Bristol’s LICE release ‘Conveyor’; the debut offering from their Settled Law label and a declaration of a “new period” in lyrically laboratory, contemporary punk.
The tip-off is in the name.
A bruising lurch away from previously discharged matters of outcry, Conveyor is a tempestuous temptress for the fucking gnarly. A declaratory tale of anarchic architecture, this single pollutes its guitar dug gorges like the humanly intrinsic turn-on in self-destructive entertainment.
Setting up a spiralising safe-space only to furnish its industrial-cold uniformities with a reconstructed, uncharted ooze cladding of satire-cemented aesthetic; you have now entered LICE’S manipulated-wasteland where the only way out, is to sit within.
“The first of our portraits is of me: a conveyor of the R.D.C.’s secret endeavours to make humanity wipe itself out”.
LICE have now reached beyond the limits of test. From here on out, it’s no-mans land.