As the (Western Christocentric) world is presently drowning in the pablum of commercial Christmas music and with weeks yet to go, let us instead come together to celebrate the weird and wonderful world of Heavy Metal. Which is to say, ‘tis List Season, y’all!
As has become tradition, Captain handled the pre-fest on the first Friday of December with the latest installment of We Have The Power. If you haven’t already, get your titty missiles loaded up and head on over there for an enthusiastic rundown of 2025’s best power metal and a reminder of what real glory sounds like.
Here, now, we begin the celebration in earnest with a discussion of the year’s best heavy metal album cover art. Why start with art? Partly because the music is what it’s really all about and so you save the best for last, which is where we put the best albums list.
And yet, cover art is just so very important. Besides (usually) being the first thing you experience of an album, whether it’s a .jpeg on your streaming platform or an LP in the record store, the art is (probably) the first thing you think of when an album is brought to mind. Yeah, after a second or so, there’s surely an image of the artist(s) in your mind’s eye or a riff or chorus in your mind’s ear, but more often than not, it’s that album art that presents itself first. When a buddy mentions Black Sabbath, what jumps immediately to mind? That iconic cloaked figure in front of the mill, right? Then The Riff. How about when you’re reminded of Don’t Break The Oath? The Devil pointing at you from the flames, of course. In the Nightside Eclipse? Orcs on the march to Minas Morgul! The Mantle? That stoic elk in winter gray. Posthumous Humiliation? Well…
The music of course, is the thing, but the cover art is the gateway to the music, attracting, intriguing, even seducing and then, for better or worse, shaping preconceptions and therefore the listening experience. The actual listening experience, in turn, has the power to reshape perception of the album art, especially when lyrics, liner notes, and supplementary art get involved. The very best album art comes from artists who not only understand this as purveyors, but also appreciate it as consumers. These are those who fully immerse themselves in the process to create a multifaceted work of art in which the listener may be immersed, with the potential to make lifelong memories from profound experiences.
And, also, sometimes cover art is just cool.
Below, in the second of many lists celebrating the best of Heavy Metal Things in 2025, you can read about the cover art that most moved the Last Rites Crew this year.
Whether you’re inclined to give high fives all around or expose us as charlatans, we hope you’ll share some thoughts on your favorite art of the year, as well. [LONE WATIE]
JEAN FREDERICK DEMERS
Phantom Spell’s Heather & Hearth might be one of the most beautiful albums of 2025. Throw in Jean deMers’ palette of purples, pinks and blues, and the result is near perfection. The prog rock-heavy second full-length from Kyle McNeill showcases somewhat of an evolution for the project. While there are, without a doubt, similarities to Immortal’s Requiem, McNeill leans even more so into his Kansas-ness with tons of tranquil solos, dreamy synths and triumphant vocals, all culminating in a medieval fever dream that sounds both nostalgic and fresh.
Circling back around to deMers’ cover art, there’s something about it that captures the essence of just that — nostalgia. While, sadly, I wasn’t around for the prog rock golden age 40 years ago, the part of me that yearns for that era found a piece of it in Heather & Hearth, much of which was initially sparked by the album cover. What McNeill finds in the soothing guitar leads, mid-paced riffs and keys, deMers finds in his simplistic sketch of a poor skeletal soul resting in front of a tattered castle, seemingly confronting the trials and tribulations of past battles. And while there’s undoubtedly little soothing about claymores clashing, there is in the comedown at night in front of the campfire. That’s what you’ll find here. The melancholy yet hope that echoes from the speakers in reverb and acoustic guitars is addicting and unshakeable. deMers perfectly captures that, and the stories told around said burning embers.
Visually and sonically, Heather & Hearth is one of 2025’s masterworks. [BLIZZARD OF JOZZSH]
ROY DE RAT
Wait, M.C. Escher was assimilated? That’s obviously a Borg cube there, or something like it, but some of those lines don’t compute. Many appear to be in the midst of drawing; transparent lines in the same space as opaque; some abutting where there should be an intersection and some running right through their vertices instead of terminating there. Planar arrangements are definitely there but they don’t quite follow the rules, either.
It’s hard to know for sure, but the tapered beams of light suggest multidirectional or multidimensional movement which, together with the incompleteness of the structure, might mean we’ve caught the thing in mid-transport from some other timespace, bringing with it whatever cosmic toxicity turns everything around it phosphor green.
And just look at the damage it’s doing! Still arriving and already ripping this sector of space apart. Into what though? Those strange emanations appear to be the organic detritus of disintegrating planets. Are these plumes of waste being dispelled from the structure? Or is the structure assimilating by absorption?
Whatever’s happening there, it seems like the only logical explanation for this art is that the ruthless cybernetic operatives of Kakothanasy grabbed their old pal and graphic artist, Cäme Roy de Rat, bolted him to the floor, blasted “Ephemeral Demise Macro-Episodes Merging in Successive Epiphenomenal Conglomerates” into his earholes for six days, and said, “Make it look like that.”
Fuckin’ nailed it. [LONE WATIE]
MARIE MCAULIFFE
I follow a bunch of fine art accounts on Instagram. You know the type: these deep dives into classical paintings that take great pains to explain every nuance in a work. “As you can surely tell, the way the scruffy dog in the background is looking up is obviously an allusion to how the peasant class reacted to the Western Schism,” that kind of thing. The reels are cool. Anything that democratizes art and re-establishes it as something to be enjoyed by all, rather than strictly an investment tool for the ultra-rich, is a good thing.
But, and this might just be a byproduct of trying to surf the undertow-like waves of the various social media algorithms, it also often positions art as these visual riddles to solve. Here’s what this means, here’s why that is, here’s the context behind all of it; distill, demystify, decode. I love art history, don’t get me wrong. And I think all of that info can enrich a work, often elevating it higher in one’s estimation. That said… I kind of want to feel art first without needing to know whether I got the test questions right. That’s why I’ve always been drawn to more abstract styles. I have been transformed into a puddle of tears while standing in the presence of a Rothko. Friends, I’ve gotten lost within Fangor’s circles. Rauschenberg’s Black Paintings? That’s my shit. I’ve accepted that I am 100 percent an abstract art bitch.
Anyway, this is all a long wind-up to say what Manic Dream Girl, the big brain behind Hypomanic Daydream, has created for The Yearning is my shit. Yes, it’s great in an art school sense: It’s spatially well-balanced, there’s a playful amount of depth, and the complementary colors nail that classic Color Wheel balance. However, first and foremost, I feel this. What might make some think of, like, Kandinsky tackling the end of The Substance, I feel the deep desire to unify the internal self with the external visual. Yo, this yearns. Holy hell, does it yearn. Look at how our main character, a fragmented figure, reaches toward the large eye with one hand while simultaneously threatening it with an arrow-tipped appendage with the other. Is that speaking to a desire to be noticed while also harboring a deep-seated fear of being perceived? I don’t know! But that’s kind of the point: You don’t have to know. You could go anywhere with The Yearning‘s cover, applying whatever themes you think fit, which is appropriate for an album that plays like an impressionistic work, one rife with seemingly disparate details that unify into this stunning whole when you take a step back. More importantly, like the album it adorns, the art for The Yearning is ready and able to go anywhere. But you start by feeling it. And damn it, I do. [SETH BUTTNAM]
TED NASMITH
I’d love to sit here and tell you I’m immune to modern technology’s deleterious effect on the human attention span, but alas, they got me. I’d ADORE the possibility of telling you I don’t judge books by their cover, but good people of Earth, I’m just a bodybrain with eyeorbs that like what they like. The act of scrolling Bandcamp for new music combines both of these unfortunate truths into a twitchy, judgy affair, and it’s a miracle I’ve latched onto anything at all. Many believe the technocratic takeover of the limbic system to be a harbinger of the fall of man, the apocalyptic slide of human civilization into the yawning chasm of idle pleasures and callous abandonment of charity. Enter The Sinking Isle, an aptly titled mountain of funeral doom with a cover that seduced my eyes before my ears.
Californian funeral doom duo Oromet once again utilized artwork by Ted Nasmith, a prolific illustrator of fantasy, to adorn this sophomore outing. The piece is entitled “Ships of the Faithful” and it depicts in brutal majesty the fleeing of the last Numenorians from their doomed home. The fall of Numenor is directly akin to many allegorical tales of man’s destruction, of hubris and vanity ending in fiery death. Thematically, The Sinking Isle is just so, yet the music also mirrors the bright pockets of roiling flame and the desperate, shipwrecked sorrow. In their largest moments, Oromet wields a power that feels like it could split mountains.
Funeral doom is so often more evocative internally than externally – the “lack” of musical material can cause the mind to fill in the visual blanks. The colossal mass of tone, of feeling, carries the spirit where it may. In a way, Oromet cheated. They managed to precisely depict the intended destination of the listener. The Sinking Isle looks like the unstoppable force and sounds like the immovable object – two great concepts that taste great together! Since I can’t in good conscience end a funeral doom blurb with an exclamation point, please give Oromet your cochlear attention and/or dollars, give Ted Nasmith your visual attention and/or dollars and for the love of Isildur, continue on your merry way. [ISAAC HAMS]
• Website
GRUESOMEGRAPHX
Personally, I enjoy it when death metal art opts for bright cartoony colors and styles to deliver gross shit. You could probably sneak this onto the Kindergarten art wall and the average passerby would pay it no mind. One might look at it from a distance and think, “Another delightful, messy drawing from that kid Sid who loves his toys so much!”
Get a little closer, though, and you’ll realize ol’ Barftholomew there looks like someone who ate three-day-old Quiznos at 6 am after a bender. The closer you look, the more foul things you’ll notice. There’s a beached whale amidst its vile sludge, corpses, a dog thing (maybe), and, hell, there are even tentacles coming out of the toilet.
What really sells this particular bile blasterpiece is that the artist was able to hire the baby sun from Teletubbies to pose in the upper corner. Clearly, the poor chap has fallen on hard times and spent many a moon (get it?) in a heroine den, leaving Pete Hegseth hoping he’ll take a boat ride, but it’s nice to see him still getting work. Before he says bye-bye, let’s give him and GruesomeGraphx a bit of tubby toast and a big hug for giving us such delightful filth! [SPENCER HOTZ]
BRAD MOORE
You know it, you love it, you can almost smell it: it’s another beautiful Brad Moore abomination. Hamilton, Ontario death metal bruisers Last Retch tapped Moore for the cover of their second album, the compact and lovingly destructive Abject Cruelty. Although the art style here is still 100% recognizably his, Moore’s ghastly purples and pinks here underscore a more overtly gore-splattered approach, albeit one that still leans heavily into that uncanny sense of things being juuuuust a few degrees shy of normal. Foregrounded in the lower right is a sheared off face still sporting its full head of hair, and then taking the upward-left diagonal is some kind of decomposing architectural tusked beast-woman with a skeletal pelvis twisted like some mockery of the yin-yang. It’s ugly yet fascinating, with each tiny lurid detail drawing the eye closer even as the overall scene settles into cosmic repulsion. It’s great! [DAN OBSTKRIEG]
ADAM BURKE
GraveRipper’s From Welkin to Tundra is as cold as it is rabid. The Indianapolis-based black thrash ‘n’ rollers returned earlier this year with their second full-length, again calling the one and only Adam Burke to conjure the visuals. If you’re somehow unfamiliar with the name, you’ve undoubtedly seen some of his works for bands like Hellripper, REZN, Artificial Brain, Eternal Champion, Fer de Lance, Gatecreeper, etc.
Burke’s eerie painting of a desolate fortress is the perfect cover for an album reliant on capturing the freezing atmosphere of ‘90s Norwegian black metal, which GraveRipper leans heavily into on their second opus. Just as the legendary Immortal captured the coldness on their releases, Burke and GraveRipper do so here, and that’s precisely why it landed on my year-end list. Nothing quite captures the essence like a palette of blues and fantasy Impressionism.
There’s also duality in Burke’s two works for GraveRipper. Their first, Seasons Dreaming Death, is a fire-blazing release, sporting red and black and being the more thrash-heavy album. The blue-focus on album No. 2 marches in a similar fashion to something like Metallica’s Ride the Lightning to Kill ‘Em All. Not in a musical sense, but in, obviously, the color scheme, and darker atmosphere.
Killer album and equally killer artwork. [BLIZZARD OF JOZZSH]
RYAN LESSER
There are so many ways to appreciate the art that Ryan Lesser contributed for Slomatics’ latest sludge slab, Atomicult, but let’s start with perhaps the most obvious question: Is this cover a sequel to the art of In the Court of the Crimson King? From the colors to the clear anguish to even the imperfections of the teeth, it’s hard to escape the comparisons, and there might even be a narrative connection (if you squint and have fun with it, at least). On King Crimson’s debut, our subject is clearly horrified, as if some impending doom is zeroing in on him. On Lesser’s piece, then, it’s like that something caught up to him and he’s been possessed by some cosmic force. And now he sees all. All of the universe is now laid bare before him, and it’s not exactly something he can handle. He’s not Zaphod Beeblebrox, after all.
But beyond that fun little “What if?” about the piece, Lesser’s artwork is gorgeous. He possesses an illustrative style that ought to remind viewers of the great Moebius and his acolytes (such as the artists behind the incredible TV show Scavengers Reign–watch it). Colors are bold (the hues of the planets are wonderful touches); there’s a sense of movement even in the still image (you can almost feel the corners of his eyes quivering); and the cover has a deep surrealism that still seems grounded in a form of reality that perhaps we can’t quite grasp. Sure, it’s an image of a pink guy with a lot of weird skin tags or budding antennae (or something) who seemingly has the universe streaming from his eyes (not to mention some delightful black goo), but like even the strangest of Moebius’ pieces, it’s oddly believable, in its own way. It all adds up to a work of art that is as stunning as it is ludicrously fun. [ZACH DUVALL]
PÅHL SUNDSTRÖM
The sonic impact of Hesitating Lights is felt primarily through its deft weaving of disparate genres. Post-punk jangles and driving rhythms collide with full-throated roars and greasy swipes of distortion. One might call it an album of harmonious AND opposing forces. Though, if you saw the album cover before even hearing a note, you’d have a mighty inkling that that was indeed the case.
According to one Encyclopedia Metallum (THE Metal Archives – have you been? Gorgeous in the fall.), cover artist Påhl Sundström has only worked on a handful of releases since 2014 in a visual art capacity, which is a shame! I’d love to see the feller keep up the output in 2026. Hesitating Lights has the kind of cover I could gawk at all day and not come to the same conclusion twice. Most importantly, though, within this greater discussion, if I had to pick a soundtrack for staring down this art, it would be Hesitating Lights, and if I had to pick a work of art to exemplify a soundtrack, I’d pick this piece.
A dijon yellow background (or foreground?), a vaguely humanoid figure slashed through and practically dripping, an alien blend of perfect 90 degree angles and aimless fissures. The retrofuturistic bent is kind of comforting, like the colors of your favorite 80’s scifi flick on a basement CRTV, and yet the coloration and variations in shading keep a bit of nausea in your belly. This ain’t your typical death metal spread of horror/gore/violence. This feels like it hints at all those concepts but doesn’t quite latch onto any individual theme. There is a lurking menace to this art, the cover whispers, but you’ll have to peer into the swirling strange to uncover it. [ISAAC HAMS]
FLESHFLIES
Way, way back in the early ‘90s, I took a massive stack of ankient Metal Maniacs mags and cut out what seemed like a thousand pictures of bands and album covers for a huge collage project. It was a formidable task, but definitely a labor of love, and the end result eventually went up in my college dorm for all to ‘enjoy’.
What I remember the most about that giant slab of patchwork hideousness today is the fact that if you stood just the right distance away, an area that included the Jump in the Fire demon, the Obituary logo, King Diamond in a wheelchair, and several other seemingly incongruous frights ended up looking a bit like Christopher Lee in The Wicker Man—the iconic image with his arms raised. That’s always struck me as something to be really admired about the collage art medium: the way images can be put together to form other compelling images, often aimed at challenging the viewer’s perspective. To add a bit of a modern spin on things, it’s kind of funny to think about how collage art manages to pull from (often) arbitrary images that already exist to create something new, legit and totally gripping, whereas AI art attempts to do similarly and FAILS miserably. In the end, the human aspect must maintain dominion in order for the upshot to remain valid and effective / affective.
Take the artwork ornamenting Learning the Secrets of Acid, for example. I’m fairly certain we’re not yet at a point on our doomed timeline where some stable diffusion system could haul the titles of this record into its processor and spit out an image as glorious and entrancing as what we see above. A talented human artist (in this case, Anne / fleshflies) is required to strike that perfect balance between still clearly seeing an original image but also recognizing how our happily rotting friend with the ALL SEEING EYES molts into an inviting landscape without fully losing some semblance of that human form. That individual IS absolutely “ruling the oily voids” that surround their resting place, just as I can see how the natural landscape exploding from their lower half could be interpreted as “life’s true fruit.” Is this the actual leaked photo of Heaven? Oddly enough, and I swear I ain’t trippin’, that doesn’t so bad. Pretty sure I see the sort of smile one can certainly attribute to contentment. [CAPTAIN]
TONI RAUKOLA
“If everyone had a 12-gauge/ And a surfboard, too/ You’d see them shooting and surfing/ From here to Malibu.” Yes, those are lyrics from “Skeet Surfing,” a number one hit for Nick Rivers in the fictional universe of Top Secret!, the most underrated movie to come from the vaunted brains belonging to the Spoof Team 6 squad of Jim Abrahams, David Zucker, and Jerry Zucker. And yes, that career-highlight pic of a stuntman firing a shotgun is a cropped still from the “Skeet Surfing”-scored opening sequence of that 1984-released spy flick parody.
So, fine, for the insufferable nerds in the back, I guess it’s worth recognizing the provenance of that image. But, divorced from its context, it’s also the perfect exoskeleton for Demonic Death Judge’s Absolutely Launched. The starring surfer on the album cover is, in fact, absolutely launching it. You can’t deny it. And that indisputable launching sets the tone for a filthy stoner rock record that opens with a similarly tone-setting track titled “’90’s Violence.” After a career of going in an increasingly proggier direction, Demonic Death Judge decided 2025 was right to release the dumbest album of its career, a winningly stupid muscle car record that sounds like it’s aggressively blown off its tits thanks to an in-cabin fuel leak. Yes, Absolutely Launched ain’t safe in a way that feels comedically surreal, a record that barrels forth with the unceasing, unsafe, and unthinking propulsion of a runaway semi carrying loaded semi-automatics. What better way to convey that than, let’s review the tape here, a guy discharging a large gun while perched atop a surfboard. Nailed it. Leave it to a Finnish band to make the most American-looking album on this list. Kelly Slater, the country depends on you to respond. Maybe for the next Fu Manchu album, you’ll fire a bazooka from a boogie board. [SETH BUTTNAM]
• Demonic Death Judge Instagram
IZABELA GRABDA
Have you ever taken acid, watched Alien, and then gone to a Salvador Dali exhibit? Me neither, but I bet it would end up looking something like the gorgeous nightmare that Izabela Grabda created for Uulliata Digir’s debut album. The bronze, silver, and greyish-blue hues give the piece a mechanical and architectural feel, but the swirling, blending, bending, and morphing breathe life that says, “I WILL shed this artificial coil!”
If you did happen to take that acid, I would strongly encourage you to hit play on the album and simply stare at this cover for the next 38 minutes and 34 seconds. I imagine with the intense, bizarre music and howling wails of Julita Dąbrowska, every passing note will give this cover more and terrifying life. Each curve hides a new surprise equally as harrowing as each song’s next note. What’s really in here? A ladder? A moth wing? A vacuum? A tornado? A butthole? Who’s to say? Imbibe, listen, stare, and see what you find. [SPENCER HOTZ]
DAVE KING
In my review earlier this year, I wrote: “So yes, this entire album is an experimental collision of free jazz and avant-garde metal, but Abhorrent Expanse never feel like they want to teach you a bunch of weird chords or impress you with an audio bibliography of punishing, deep-cut citations. The vignettes they build themselves into across this wonderful album are eerie, disquieting, noisy, unpredictable, ghostly, thunderous, and honestly really just a lot of fun. Dave King’s incredible cover artwork for Enter the Misanthropocene is actually a perfect microcosm of the music: It depicts a musical score displayed sideways, with thick, aggressive streaks of oil pastels, fingerprints smudged and smeared as if exorcising some irrepressible compulsion. Whether those painterly interventions are making the music beautiful or making the music illegible is in the eye of the beholder.” All these months later, I realize that I’ve always assumed the cover was a mixed media piece, with an actual paper score taped to a canvas and then painted over. But the more I stare at it, the less I’m sure. Is it a photograph? Is it entirely a painting on flat canvas with exquisitely rendered depth? Far from a failure, that indeterminacy bleeds back to the music as well, to this exquisite pairing of improvisational music and visual arts. I don’t know what’s happening, yet I’m compelled to return. [DAN OBSTKRIEG]
EZRA HARKIN
I DINNINT HAVE TO TAKE PIANO LESSONS WHEN I WAS A KID BUT I DID HAFTA PLAY THE SAXOPHONE BECAUSE MY DAD PLAYED THE SAXOPHONE AND MY DAD IS AWESOME AND I WANTED TO DO SOMETHING LIKE HE DID WHEN I WAS A KID SO I PLAYED THE SAXOPHONE LIKE HE DID. PRETTY SOON I GAVE UP THE SAXOPHONE THO BECAUSE I DID IT FOR SCHOOL AND THE MARCHING BAND UNIFORMS WERE SHIT AND REAL REAL UNCOMFORTABLE AND I DINNINT WANTA LOOK LIKE A DANG SQUARE SO I QUIT. THE OTHER THING WAS I WAS REALLY INTO HEAVY METAL SO WHAT I REALLY WANTED WAS A GUITAR THAT LOOKED LIKE THE ONE THE GUY IN LOUDNESS PLAYED BUT INSTEAD OF THAT GUITAR I GOT A GUITAR THAT LOOKED LIKE SOMETHING KENNY LOGGINS WOULD PLAY. I GOT A GUITAR TEACHER AND HE COMBED HIS FLIPPIN BEARD BEFORE EVERY ONE OF OUR LESSONS AND THAT FREAKED ME OUT. LIKE COMB YOUR SHIT BEFORE YOU SEE ME YOU PINHEAD. CAN YOU TEACH ME HOW TO PLAY ENDLESS PAIN INSTEAD OF SMOKE ON THE FUCKING WATER. ANYWAY I MAYBE WOULDA PLAYED THE PIANO IF THE PIANO COULD COME TO LIFE WITH TENTACLES TO DESTROY MY BEARD COMBING GUITAR TEACHER. [CAPTAIN]
DAN SEAGRAVE
Are you fucking serious, Dan Seagrave? After more than 35 years in the game – not to mention covers for the likes of Altars of Madness and Effigy of the Forgotten and Left Hand Path and The Erosion of Sanity and Transcend the Rubicon and Penetralia and about 500 other of your classic favorites – Seagrave shouldn’t still be able to achieve that “wow” factor, right? But here we are, and there is the Death Never Sleeps art, pulling off exactly what it needs to do: providing supremely kickass old school death metal art for a supremely kickass slab of old school death metal in Glorious Depravity’s sophomore effort.
Even by Seagrave’s normally extremely detailed standards this is one loaded piece of art. From the foreground demon beetle creatures – which of course appear to be harvesting humans – all the way to the structures in the distance, everything has impeccable detail, not to mention a sense of scale and depth, really showing off the artist’s layered painting technique (his Instagram videos provide a great insight into his process). The simple gray and red color palette is effective in communicating both the age of everything – technology that is very old, very advanced, and very alien – plus a strange sense of power. Oh, and not to mention the blood. Blood. Blood. And possibly bits of sick. It’s creepy, a little terrifying, and oddly inviting.
Inviting because, in the pre-web days before people could hear every album before making a purchase decision, the Death Never Sleeps art would have been the kind of impossibly rad thing you used to see on the shelf that made you have to have a record. That Seagrave can still capture that vibe all these decades later is a testament to both his talents and his inseparable connection to death metal. [ZACH DUVALL]
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Very cool article, thank you.
I’m not into the scene as much as I used to be (huge understatement), so I was surprised to see that Dan Seagrave on the list. Super cool to see he’s still kicking ass.
Always look forward to this annual post, and it was a solid year. Some awesome picks – Floating, Effluence, and now I can’t stop listening to ‘Absolutely Launched’ Also, as I missed the original write up somehow and put in the most unceremonious terms, ‘Learning the Secrets of Acid’ is bananas. I want to buy the vinyl, music aside, to just have that cover in a physical form.
Just a couple honorable mentions for me.
Industrial Puke, ‘Alive to No Avail’ – This one sticks with me for some reason. It’s equally terrifying and beautiful, simple yet wildly effective.
Urn, ‘Demon Steel’ – A toothy specter’s maw is yanked open by Cenobite-ish chains whilst it plays a hellfire lit, insect legged cello in the shadow of an undead priest? Sold. Nightmare logic at it’s finest.
…And Oceans, ‘The Regeneration Itinerary’ – Graphically it’s immaculate, visually it’s wild and kinetic. Simultaneously organic and manufactured. It’s something to stare at.