The elegance of the time-lapse photos of a dancer featured on the cover of Rhinestone totally belies the brutal electronic chaos that David Reed (also of Luasa Raelon, Envenomist, and Nightmares) and Phil Blankenship (The Cherry Point) unleash on this full length disc. The half-hour long "Rhinestone" is a nightmarish sprawl of extreme electronic noise and random percussive noises, room ambience and screaming apocalyptic feedback from the duo. It definitely has a different feel than Blankenship's other recent releases (both solo and with the LHD project he shares with John Wiese), though. There's an improvisational feel to the bizarre haunted house rattling and moaning that takes place over the near-constant wall of brittle static, crackling electrical cable-buzz, and bass-heavy rumble. Lots of dead amplifier hum and controlled bursts of metallic junk-noise are heavily incorporated into this chaotic soundscape for good measure as well. Reed and Blankenship also make interesting use of space and depth after the initial cacophony of the first ten minutes; after that point, the blasts of noise become sporadic, interspersed with brief sections of ambient room noise, brutal percussive blasts and clanking metal, a style that follows in a similar vein as John Wiese's brutal electro-acoustic compositions. Later, Bianchi-like pulsations of black cancerous electronics begin to appear, adding to the psychedelic harsh noise horror. Hands down the harshest material that I've ever heard from Reed, a far cry from his deathly synthscapes and cold black industrial ambience. It's equally devoid of light though, and a top-notch slab of extreme electronic violence. Released in a limited edition of one hundred seventy-five copies in digipack packaging.