Montgomery and Murphy suspend guitar textures like smoke at 67 BPM, each phrase locked in 9B lingering long past its welcome in the best way. The energy registers at barely a flicker, yet the leftfield architecture keeps it grounded—cinematic, skeletal, and stubbornly slow. There is no peak to climb; instead, the record deepens a mood already present in the room, letting textures breathe across near-empty frequencies.
I would slot this at the very top of a warm-up or as the last transmission before lights-up, where its folk DNA and AD 93 experimentalism collapse into one another. It demands a system with patience and a crowd willing to stand still, absorbing the half-speed pulse rather than riding it. Functional? Hardly. Memorable? Without question.