A wet, hot Tunk is all that exists between my fat, hot cock and this beautifully dark techno album by The Sand District. Gritty grooves, both warm and wet seep into these old wrin-wrans of mine. My dullard ex-aunt is doing a hot hokey pokey to these timeless grooves, wishing upon a moldy mush. I hope these coffee burns heal before I hit Function.
I don't get why these small labels do not press like a 1,000 copies of these albums. I'm sick of these "blink and they are gone" releases. So of us do not have the time to constantly check the internet for release dates on this stuff.