Nightly Wreaths: Another Horrid Red album, another slice of downloadable content from a Valhalla that heat-glimmers like Mojave. Or an iteration of Fallout designed by a romantic genius. Or a bad-ass-less Borderlands where our existential heroes rummage for counter-cultural artefacts at the bottom of craggy mausoleums for Can, Neubauten, The Fall and the 4AD records staple.
And it may just be us typing this on a Sunday Morning, with good coffee, and no mutant or corporate mercenary threats to our property, but we feel a hopeful vibe in the ballads that Horrid Red bring from the emptiness without. As if they had replaced their rusty servo-powered implants with vat-grown human limbs, jacked up the warmth to distortion ratio in Bunker Wolf’s transmitter up in the Eagle’s Nest. As if they had spent some of their time out there staring at the constellations with a Terrence Malick-style tribe of Gamelan practitioners.
Next time we leave the safety of this property, tightly hugged by our wheezing gun-toting mecha, we may add an extra item to our shopping list. Kerosene, Purified Water, Oblivion, Revenge, Love. You know this will be playing in our tinny stereo.