Slow gauze of eternal hypo-presence is the ultimate microwave ooze that settles post-plastic baking. Seems this vibe was in the thick air of the basement Radical Cemetery laid this set of tunes down in, a murky, deeply retro-active wormhole where deposits of alkaline and asbestos brew in a coldrun of familiarity. Lurking in the shadows of doom sludge, "N.N.E." represents a wholly defiant concoction, as indebted to the harsh realities of "Dopesmoker," as it is the sentient mist of a screwed free jazz.

Radical Cemetery

N.N.E.