Christopher Donovan, Somnambulant Corpse Recordings:
"The projection of an inhuman perception, alien, hovering at absolute zero in the cold vastness of space".
Achtung! Baby:
"31 minutes of Eternity, Oblivion, and Fear, the sound of a voiceless wind, lingering groans of giant ruins, a confession of stars, and agonized poundings with a womb of flesh."
Seven:
"[O]pens with the groan of the unknown, of the deepest slobbering black holes of disease, and shimmering sounds like the twinkle of stars before death. Gurgling, spasmodic, throaty nuances follow, sounding like the unspeakable language that Lovecraft created, only garbled into incomprehensibility. [...]
The tones littered throughout these tracks brim with unearthly allegiance, gobbling stars and the blackest void itself, birthing obscenities of no beastly compare via mutilating the electro-acoustic and the electronically perverse. The whole presentation is an invitation to the sonic equivalent of Cthulhu's sonic masturbatorium. The aural definition of weird!"
LD-50:
"As if a mad artist would sit in front of the Photoshop of creation. I don't want to know what creatures can be invoked with this".
Ortus Obscurum:
"Like a gigantic cosmic vortex, this is not for the weak-minded!"
Industrial.org:
[A]n oily kind of blackness, slippery and difficult to clean off. Organic sounds make an appearance as well and somehow as unlikely as they are, always hit like the peripheral scream of Silent Hill or Half Life. [...]
Initially you become comfortable with the surroundings, strange as they seem. But just as you become conditioned to your environment something so fucking horrible and alien occurs that you are just locked in place, paralysis easier than dealing with the impossible wrongness of it. Like suddenly realizing the gentle rain upon your face is actually droplets of blood cascading down from the swinging corpses of everyone you have ever loved. Or that the prickly label scratching your neck is actually the barbed end of some ghastly alien tentacle snaking out from beneath your now writhing clothing".
