This cassette offers up some seriously damaged, end-of-times noisescapes from duo Dense Reduction. Side A sounds like a strange audio time capsule, maybe a distress call, our final transmission before total annihilation, that’s been buried for hundreds of years beneath the rubble of a fallen city. Things start off ominously: a hauntingly beautiful recording of a church choir warbles in and out of pitch like a tape left too long in the sun amidst tape hiss, faint radio transmissions and ghostly piano. Everything coated in a thick layer of analog dirt, twisted, distorted and blown out yet strangely beautiful and very creepy. If side A is a cut-and-paste collage of humanity’s last days, side B is the nuclear fallout. A single tone rises like an air-raid siren before descending into all-out oscillator warfare. Homemade electronics spew charcoal-grey sludge and streaks of corrosive feedback, painting a bleak, lifeless landscape, hospitable only to the strange life forms that have dug up this recording after completely destroying those who made it. 6/10 -- Curran Faris (1 September, 2010)