Inferna tetigit possit, ut supera assequi.
An off-the-dome rambling on some top album picks from FCU’s contributors.
We hope you were expecting a heap of coal this holiday season.
“Your body is not a temple, it’s just food for the pump.”
Nuke ’em, Rico!
Imbibing the pared down, psychedelic-infused folk ditties from South Africa’s weirdo experimental duo.
Exploring beautiful nebulas, exploding quasars, and distant galaxy swirls.
Put your head in a wind turbine destructive.
“A life benign, the stench of a false sense of pride. Keep your 9 to 5, I’ll take a dead end drive. At best vermin in this dirt fucking life.”
Let the forest speak my name.
Down this old road, to Appalachia.
Ramblings and musings about fresh tunes that span the gamut of blistering grindcore, poignant doom pop, minivan jazz, and a litany of other timbres.