Frustration and exhaustion recycled into plastic. It’s a tough kind of fakeness. Punch in, punch out. Oh Lord, rhythmatic, systematic, joy division. Hope at the end of a branch, but we’re on the wrong end of the stick. A new kind of deep seated melancholia, remade into plastic. It’s a tough kind of feeling – an unfeelingness.
Swarms breaks that plastic mould of template dubstep. It’s a new wave of quiet, ambient, melancholia. An experimentation with percussions and deep, echo-ing vocals like hazy recollections. Swallow it whole.
[Swarms - Roulette]
[Swarms - T-100]
[Swarms - Hostile]