What a dazed plain Robedoor lives on. A plain devoid of colour, either because there is no light, or there is so much light that the landscape has been bleached into nothingness. A plain where nothing really lives - its just being. Billions of particles of interstellar sludge rolling across the scorched earth like minuscule tumbleweeds. Gravital claustrophobia. Blue filters. Monochrome sleepwalkers. Acetate. Liquid metal...
Sorry, but Robedoor is a droning, growling psych behemoth in the truest sense, following in the footsteps of the likes of Skullflower and Yellow Swans in the underworld dirge, hypnotizing you and drawing you into their realm. They have brought out a plethora of releases over the past few years, steadily developing their status as a frontrunner in the drone underground (Im not kidding - check here for their discography - Im not even sure its complete!). Most notably have been the Raiders LP of last year, out on lead Britt's own label Not Not Fun, also responsible for the Bored Fortress 7" split with Gnod, and the upcoming Burners (Important Records). Not Not Fun has also finished prepping the Pacific Drift 7" as we speak. This abundance of material showcases a beast that is slowly, organically evolving its craft, the songs becoming, well, songs, focused and compacting sprawling deluges in short time frames, thus magnifying their aural alchemy.
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