The fellas in Equipment Pointed Ankh make the world a little weirder in their wake, a never ending freak out session that feels like a Lewis Carroll acid trip in a Guitar Center. That’s all to say that you have sounds coming at you from all angles, solos and warbling synths, all playing to their own tune, bowing to no flag. This is musical anarchy, a democratic chaos by the people and for the people, and you just have to soak it up. Trying to compare this to anything is an exercise in futility, not because it exists beyond precedent, but because they wouldn’t give a shit all the same; just fucking listen to it and get over yourself.
Turn the dial up to 11, or whatever just above whatever arbitrary number your dial goes to, and scare your neighbors. Tell them you’ve joined a psychic cult dedicated to noise and freedom. Get critical of the metal on metal sounds humming coming at you, like a shrill barrage of guitars lusting out in a murderous rage. Listen below, wear a robe, and tell people that you are the reincarnation of Rasputin while you blast this.