Gobstoppers are those kind of stoppers to close down the gobs. Artist Chlorine (in her liquid form) had been flowing around, poisoning your local swimming pool and had still taken the time off to gather these Gobstoppers for gob-stopping purposes. Considering the gigantic album you could play Russian roulette or actually play it, it’s a one way audio road that is paved with these stopped gobs, as Chlorine (with her knowledge for fungus in Olympic swimming pools) clearly had enough quality-time to kill and fill to spray paint each and every track up with gob-stopping globe gobbers.
The results? A collection that even gets the most constipated Gobstoppers ready to run for the nearest toilet, a place in which they too will experience the pleasure of relaxing a certain muscle and relieving its inner ambient liquids into the sewer system. From there the music had taken shape, spreading itself through pipes and lines from house to building, slurping itself through digital networks and then ejaculating its newly shaped music into unexpected netizens their ears.
As soon as they are infected with the Gobstoppers virus Chlorine will laugh behind the scene: another minute closer to world domination. And with all the exits that the new material had slipped through, now successfully closed down with left over Gobstoppers, Chlorine knows that now her creations will only move forward, mouth on mouth, ear on ear, through spit and tears Chlorine’s top sporting Gobstoppers are invisible and unstoppable. You don’t even need to hear the album to know that, but as soon as you’ll open up you’ll be Gobstopped by Chlorine’s Gobstoppers. Well played Chloribe, you successfully gobsmacked a clue less audience and nobody can gob-stop you!