Shape-shifting noise compositions make up the amorphous form of
Nonsense Chamber. There is no aleatory appearance, but clarity of vision in the result. There is an overt and successful fusion of frantic sexual energy snippets and a homocide's mental soundtrack. While admitting they quote eight murderers on the disc,
Aphrodisiac cannot agree whether the lust they seek to inspire is "fastlove, madlove, sadlove or toylove." I feel it is "toylove." The duo responsible for this sociopathic collage are beautifully subversive.