Honey Slides was written on tour in England, improv'd during drunken collaborative sets, and recorded on a chilly, grey day at Oxfordshire's Warehouse Studios while a bottle of murky port was passed around the room. A full-on culture clash, the music is like an American marching band playing a British rave. Thumping micro-house morphs into a psychedelic brass band while landscapes of android ghost beats emerge from luminous pools of ambient noise. The vocals shout and proclaim in surreal tones like the spooky hollers of a Southern Baptist preacher inside a swampland chapel. Ideas and images cycle back, flashing brief visions of haunted wilderness, rising seas, decadent youth, faith healers, urban decay, y, and midnight carnivals in torch-lit clearings. A new animal born to two mothers, an engaging, weird, dancy, absorbing, freaked-out electronic pop tapestry.