Like a many, many-headed beast, grind in 2019 has stabbed, slashed, bitten, and gnawed from a million different angles. And it’s still only just turned October. Whether jean-jacketed and
Read PostIn 2029, I’ll be fast approaching forty and, Satan willing, I’ll be writing about a band that listened to Sleepsculptor in their youthful days. I’ll be old,
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