now we're talking about an alterego that shoudlve been sacrificed to the lord of pain at the word "go," or at least at the dj's first failed attempt to break-through-free, what have you: a crude (and mercifully scrubbed) collection of "field recordings" (ugh—vomit!) of REDACTEDREDACTEDREDACTED he calls me up says that's the name of a god and this is the only true "conceptual album" in the bunch. well, if i could slap a cellphone i would've then, but my mama raised me betttter. (no parkers or posies were hurt during the concotion of this record)