A runaway Ural armoured truck. A spinning distorted organ punch. The depths of Karin Boyes agony, the Space Ritual spirit.
A prophetic tribe on its eternal quest, men wearing hats, women in red. Electronic ornaments oscillating auf der Bahn zum Uranus. The steady pounding of a Soviet diesel engine, the magic carpet of an outphased string machine.
In other words, Kollektivets Acid Kraut-Orkester.