Description
Editrix is as if you took music that is borderline classical in its crystalline perfection and obsessive attention to detail, and then played it through Kurt Cobain’s Rat pedal, with not a shred of piety or decorum. From the first slide guitar notes of the opening title track, this is doom-laden nihilism lovingly decorated in heart stickers. It is caring, pretending not to care, resisting the emotive signals so abused in mainstream, which is what tells you that it really does care. It is sweet and sour and spicy and salty and bitter and umami, and cooked using only homegrown local ingredients. It is the synthesis of the dialectic and the clarion call of the proletarian revolution.
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