No Pain In Pop

Ready To Die

New York’s Hours of Worship plunge dark and deep; a blade, a diver, a dose. All are bombs – passing lips of hurt flesh, seeking the stream of vital liquids to soil or cease and ready to marry what’s given with what’s got; familiar hunting grounds warped and refracted into something that has, for all this time, been beaming meaning to higher eyes rather than leave it fester between your ribald ankles. The pair, camped in the top floor of clubland’s tallest building - the one thought deserted, derelict - peer out across the melee, grins sinister as their seething rhythm organises distracted revellers into corralled, collusive outlines, writing scripts with symbols that don’t so much dance with death as rap knuckles upon its heavy door. ‘Bury Me In Smoke’ will appear on Into the Grass, due April through Ekleroshock.



MP3: Hours of Worship - Bury Me in Smoke

Tags: hours of worship