Blog: Dots & Dashes

From the aural interpretation of Finnish fjords to Sao Paulo Tropicalia infused with more distortion than a decade of The Big Chill, more terrifying than buxom, Brazilian Babe, Terror pictured above skulking about in Georges Boy and Michael's usual rendezvous spot is what happens if you take Avey Tare to midnight mass, before stained glass shatters and demonic distortion clambers through the gaping snaggletoothed gap. Or at least that's a little along the lines of the bemused beauty contained within Summertime Our League, Babe, Terror's UK debut now lining the aisles of the odd independent record [...]