Keywords: emo experimental trap experimental grind hardcore noise trap Lisbon
Slam your head into a pillow after looking around in a state of bewilderedness, as somewhere in the sterile surroundings of a surreal hospital setting we find ourself tortured by noises that aren’t the usual voices within our skull. Yep, we are in bed, a hospital bed. How did we end up in here? Did somebody checked us in against our will? Nobody knows! Probably because of a head injury that makes our mind as if it is being tormented with a little nifty bit of an attitude and a hard bang here and there. Bang bang is does and it’s interesting in sound but panicky as we don’t understand why and where it is coming from. Is this the sound of acute brain damage? Did we have an accident and someone scraped us from the floor, brought us to a hospital and tossed us here to rot in a bed?
It does not feel like the baddest kind of injury, in fact we might have had worse things happen to us before, but still… not knowing why we are here in this hospital bed with our head banging wildly around is slightly reason for worries. Who are we? Why we have such a headache? Why are we in a hospital and why can’t we stand up like the healthy creatures that we normally would be? …things will turn even worse! Oh no! So much questions and so much lack of answers!
As indeed as expected from waking up in pain from a mystery situation, the troubles become more prominent by the minute, inserting a headache peak that could be described as the worst of its kind. All we can do now is scream for a doctor, a nurse or someone else that might be of any help. But as the headache is so severe, even a call for help seems to be a mission impossible. Where are they? Is there anybody out there? Where are the providers of the painkillers that we are so in need for?
Things progress into the worst kind of scenario, as a case of painful dehydration pops up. Our lips are crumbling like a dried out prune and our skin looks dead like a cracked up desert. With High penetrative beeps it will pierce our abilities to think. Still nog thinking should be normally a pleasant thing to experience, but here it is like we are slowly becoming more and more I’ll. All that our mind can do is leaking out the last bit of humidity. There will be no liquid left and that might be not beneficial for our survival rate.
At this point we probably wish that we had been fully blessed with amnesia, big enough to forget that we are here in the hospital bed or slightly realising that we are reading a nonsensical write up for an album that is short and noisy & slightly confusing. Why are we here? What is up with these sounds? Will this have a happy ending? Or will the applause at the end be coming from a dead audience that gladly celebrates our arrival into the after life? I’m so confused and yet clearly entertained by this situation. Let’s take the headache for granted and join me in the bodily decay within the hospital bedding.