Sometime in mid July 2013 Eric Boros and Fritz Welch descended a short flight of stairs into a basement in an old bowling pin factory in the southern zone of the Yucatan province of France. The purpose of this visit was to confer with the newly reformed European wing of the Weather Underground Organization (WUO). As they entered the beehive they realized it was a con and the space had instead been prepared for electro discordian improvisational games! Of course this also happened three days later in front of a select audience of dissected real estate cadavers. Sonically speaking, they got this one cooking at a reasonable hour with daylight as a prime ingredient. The elements in the music are tangible and perhaps can be tasted as if the low level heat is an ache for a deeper belief. Sometimes its hard to keep it up with all the inside/outside confusion and political interference but that is clearly an illusion. Chunks of all colours need shifting. Other precipitation is hovering around their heads in a way that is part guillotine and part nimbus and the whole thing made of recycled brown bread from a pre-19th century barn built in the shape of a rubber chicken. Sound clusters like the blues with a fractured eyelid are ideal for fragmentation. The sunlight is outside. The outlight is sunside. This audial contraption is for traveling on a honeybee savour vision quest repeated for pic-nics and life larf. When the clear tone impact is fully rounded in its form but has an internal crystalline gristle, that has more impact. The pit of crutches is formless yet retains a fully planted traction of place. It is in place and of a place of solid placement yet the slippages interfere as a means of chucking it all away. All coming back into focus as a spinning multi-lingual doglike odour of audio treading water. Repeat as needed, it all tastes better with extra human chili sauce!