Static transmissions from a distant dark star. Taking up and tripping out further than the Velvet Underground's Black Angel Death Song, MARS punished not with blunt force, but with a propulsive agitation which signalled a neurological insanity. A crippled tension swathed in nervous friction. A cavernous musical universe riddled with eerie sound storms whose poisoned atmosphere seduced and threatened. Obtuse and unforgiving. Sickly sexy. Red noise redefining bass urges, forcing the listener to question their own sanity by drilling into ear holes using electroshock guitars as saw blades trepanning into grey matter. MARS unleashed a choking cacophony illustrating the body as machine in disrepair fuelled by the impending repulsion and disintegration of a peverse romance with one's own demons. Demons who once wrenched free, made mimicry of the jangling nerve centers, and given voice as song, turned schizophrenic and howled these testimonials to the unbearable. Lydia Lunch, introduction to 'The Complete Studio Recordings NYC 1977-78', G3G Records/Spooky Sound
