At around 10 minutes of total run time, Debt Stalker's Endurance Test isn't an onerous listen. Of course, your stamina isn't what the artist is looking to gauge (at least not until you are comfortably on your back and the two of you have discussed a safe word). It's not stoicism that matters to this open format producer, but bravery. Do you have the fortitude to follow Debt Stalker into the unknown? Through an electro-sexual, gothic nebulo of sin, surrender, and satisfaction? Do you have the courage to admit your desires, no matter how dark and uncanny, and embrace them as they emerge from the whirlpool of your psyche as one would the return of a prodigal sprog? This might sound like you are being invited into the den of a cenobite, but what I think Debt Stalker is seeking to envelop the listener is a mix of pleasure and pain that is heavily weighted towards the pleasure end of the equation. The most pain you're likely to endure are some light bruises and maybe a little bit of heartbreak with Endurance Test. Unless you really mess around and are a disrespectful or judgmental prick about what they've opened up to you with- in which case, I don't think they'll hesitate to put stiletto switchblade on the cover to good use.
