First the words were good, they helped us understand. But then the sounds would double like holograms. Now, they have quadrupled, twisted and contorted into unreadable hieroglyphics by four technicians of sound. They sing of deep space disco at the hands of Teen Daze. They fall back to earth and "Primary 1" picks through the debris like a surgeon with grisly precision and melody. FUR has stolen them from the lab and the cutting slab and taken them out knight riding, nestled inthe backseat and oozing into the leather. Finally, this memory of a song is scooped up by Hard Mix and broadcast as an agitprop slow-dance. The air smells of chemicals. Take a listen and download, for free, here.