���More grim Italian power electronics from the increasingly grimy label Diazepam. Deprivation's I Don't Want To Grow Up Here is a nine-song album of mutated electronics from this obscure outfit, dangerously packaged in a blue cardstock sleeve encased in metal wire; it definitely needs to be handled with a certain amount of care. Inspired by a series of harrowing memoirs written by mental patients that were published in the 1970's, Deprivation's tape opens with a blast of distorted and warped synthcreep that sounds like a funeral dirge being played through ancient, massively distorted Casio keyboards, the sound reverberating off the walls of some damp underground chamber. It's wonderfully sparse and atmospheric and drenched in screeching feedback, the melodies are mournful and gorgeous, almost like some massively distressed ancient kosmische music infested with bursts of PE-style abrasion.

��� That's followed by a blast of garbled electronics and squealing amplifier hate that quickly assembles into a putrid, monstrous rhythmic churn, a filthy, yet oddly catchy blast of fetid low-fi power electronics. That whiff of classic Italian filth-tronics a la Atrax Morgue, Murder Corporation, Maurizio Bianchi and Mauthausen Orchestra continues to permeate the rest of the tape, introducing insanely echoing vocals that scream across a wasteland of charred electronics and chaotic scrap-metal violence, the sounds often morphing into squealing, queasy industrial loops, while other tracks stumble through murky low-fi fogbanks of sputtering electronics and billowing distorted muck, throbbing blown-out synths in the vein of Mauthausen Orchestra creeping through the black haze, vicious lashings of feedback and swarming clouds of black synth-drone turning this into a real horror show by the end, those echoing maniacal screams seemingly enshrouded in a massive swarm of black flies, scraping metal and sickening deep pulsations. It all adds up to some superbly nasty and pestilent power electronics, and fans of the kind of stuff that used to come out on the infamous Slaughter Productions label in particular will be drawn to Deprivation's old-school psychotic din.