"My Mother The Vent is the eagerly-awaited debut from Guttersnipe, the UK's most out-there band. They say the PR era, circa the late 1980s, killed the golden age of music journalism, they say Guttersnipe have continuously melted all the forms that they come up against; they are right. Because Guttersnipe is not part of a tradition we know well, but one will identify the departure from that tradition immediately upon hearing My Mother The Vent. The innovation here is a firm commitment to the flow-motive polyrhythm undergirding the seared, nay fried, tonal rainbow and de-reasoned vocals. Not Nate Nelson, nor John the masseuse dude from Sightings but Tipula Confusa. Uroceras Gigas has bridged so many gaps, finally unlocked the axe-wielding code and is really playing the thing, bringing forth a world-view that is utterly unique. There is some real disjunction in the music, clear and intended. In an age when most computer music composers use stochastic systems and still manage to drop some linear path/ground shit, the brawler drums and slanky guitar constructions on My Mother The Vent are a genuine treat. I've spent too much of my adult life so far hearing too much of this shit to not recognize real game; here it crawls out of the grey shadows of ol' Blighty. I'm not waxing confusingly in a rarefied tone here, nor running the boring sci-fi script. We left the human-music-on-a-human-scale behind, much to our detriment. Here we sit in our crumbling reality, but Guttersnipe come paleo, like the rhapsodes with long-ass memories rattling off Homeric verse well into the age of manuscript culture, but here, with future tones, luckily. Otherwise, me and the record label here wouldn't be wasting our time and yours with a one-sheet for My Mother The Vent. A proper first time on wax for these amazing creatures is a welcome addition to the world of things. These drums and these guitar lines are so cranké, as they say here in my odd neighborhood. These voices are so utterly expressive without even the damn language at hand, like the great horns. We'll rinse this record out, I'll put on my old Blighty nighty and go dance in the street." --Alex Moskos, Montreal, August 2018.