Crunchy, exuberant, and charmingly ambitious, 32-Bit operator is the pint-sized, rock-opera revue baked like a trapped, diminutive tempest within a juicy wedge of Raspberry Pi-sized ideaphoria, bursting with bitter zest and sweetly nostalgic relish. The group offers the agitated yet revealing lyrical content and delivery of an anarcho-folk-punk group with the bombastic compositional quirks and afflictedly affable pop tendencies of ophidian orators of the polymorphic cast such as Snakefinger and other lightly venomous sonic scribes, annotating the ledgers of the comprehensive repository of all human events with an index of pretty gripes and profound hemorrhaging lacerations.
Trial Run is their most up-to-date sonic prototype, compressing and splitting the focus of their laser diode-like aim so that it produces a scattershot prismatic spectacle of runaway chords, overheated feedback, tenuously compiled architectures, collapsing builds, and dense releases, lushly abundant with a sparking amperage of electric emotion. It occupies superficially 2-D space rendered with the exactitude of the luxuriant realism of Strazza's
Veiled Virgin, maintaining an affordable verisimilitude while crawling through a dungeon of dancing caricatures and comically embellished meshes, press-ganging the listener into their fantastic descent where reconciliations can only be achieved to the extent that they are emphatically embraced in all their messy, uneasy (dis)unity. Rated E for everyone with ears and a heart to spare.
Don't hate them because they're Beautiful Rat Records.
