We've gone angry; let's get lysergic. Russian Tsarlag offers the kind of cough syrup melancholy that oozes all over the floor, congeals into a gelatinous mass that creeps its way towards you, rippling up over your bootlaces, up under your jeans and seeps into your pores, rendering you blissfully catatonic. Gagged In Boonsville has a Medusa on the cover, and it's that sort of insidious alchemy that plays between the bars in each of these tracks. Echoing from the abyss, the beats and samples slowed down to melting point, almost monotone lyrics begging, imploring, resisting, relenting. It may feed into the seedy underbelly of many of the avant artistes that reside on LA label Not Not Fun, but there is also something undeniably soothing and real about the album that makes it a far more immersible endeavour. The samples too - slowed down vocals, ghostly piano plinks, TV stubble, maniacal laughter - it's a blender of unreality that could only be steeped in the now.
You can buy Gagged In Boonsville here.
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