While the cat’s away the mice will play. And record. And submit. One terrifying week in July, the Spirit of Fwonk himself disappeared into the aether, leaving the rabble to fend for themselves. This is what we created whilst he was gone; a selection of tracks that are reactive rather than contemplative, instinctive knee-jerks rather than fully realised ideas. Fwonk without the frills or the varnish. The cheap, dirty underbelly of Fwonk.

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