Hailing from that glitter-flooded interstitial sewer known as the Resonant Hole, Jeanne Vomit-Terror and Ed Sunspot have come as creedless ambassadors of an anticivilization, to share with you their queasy anthems and senseless customs. Mmme. Vomit-Terror, djinn saint of female fire in crypto-Cleopatra attire, coolly conducts a menagerie of not-strictly-obedient MIDI slaves striking up diseased disco manifestos and gutter-born glam gems, all the while surveilled and astrally vivisected by Mssr. Sunspot’s (a menace of particle energy dammed—and damned—by dark plastic and luminescent leather) ruthless camera eye and cryptic switchboard, a mutant murmuring issuing from his own moist nest of cassette guts and circuit-gore. Allow them to lash you to the mast of their shipwrecked clipper, to blast you free of your gruesome prison, to erase your shadow from this phony plane for good!