BOLAND Apocalyptic euphoria from the edge of the abyss. Sounds for your inner padded cell. BOLAND--Magyar for madness--taps the vein of the enigmatic past, plugs into realms of eccentric electricities, stands on it's head at the signpost crumbling on the corner of illusion and oblivion before plunging blithely into the maelstrom. Haunting the boundaries of reason, BOLAND summons Old World revenants to dance with remembrance, plucks at nerves with slivers of levity and twists eternity into a deviant pretzel of demonic delirium. Somewhere, shadow catchers are beating the sun into a black hole. The sounds of Dead Heather are the intertwining of Middle European and Aegean roots with an affinity for the West Yorkshire moors.
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