On the Horizon: Antipodean spread-eagle, Secret Birds.

Pardon my ignorance if you will, but elaborate opera houses aside Sydney oft appears to be left a little wanting in all stakes sonic. Needless to say more than happy to have the hypothesis ruthlessly disproved (flood the inbox if you so fancy) although I'm already envisaging few doing so more emphatically than the Secret Birds just did: hung up somewhere between Carnivals, Kagoule and something altogether more Aboriginal as though ravenous bird of prey spazzing out on telephone cabling, Zen Pyramid is a resplendent wig out which sounds something along the revelatory lines of this here globe's purported 7-day creation crammed into thirteen casually sublime minutes. And with statements such as this: 'If you believe music is a disposable commodity and no longer contains the sheer power that has caused humans to create physical/totemical manifestations from ideas and inspirations for thousands of years, you can also download it and listen to it while you tweet' I'm already savouring D. Black's drone-fuelled zoning out more than I ever could a fourex.