As en embittered lonely teenager - primarily because my first girlfriend, a Muslim named Sophie, was prohibited by her parents from seeing me, like, ever - I used to travel from Middlesex to Ealing Broadway with the purpose of trawling record shops for unpleasant music I'd read about in Melody Maker or Lime Lizard. On one such expedition, I came across Zeni Geva's Nai-Ha for 50p in a secondhand shop. I remembered a review which compared the Japanese band to Slayer, so I grabbed it. It didn't sound like Slayer. It was visceral and exciting, but it wasn't thrash, and the tape had already deteriorated, so the band sounded as if they were being smothered by duvet-beasts as they played. I think I still have it somewhere. It probably sounds even worse (better?) now.

  Crossfade to 2008. I'm no longer embittered or lonely and Cold Spring have remastered Zeni Geva's third album, and with the benefit of the intervening years of muso geekishness I can discern that the band were a post-Swans riot of thudding percussion and industrial-strength repetition with an added layer of green vocal bile provided by future ambient superstar KK Null. It's truly horrible, utterly hypnotic and I love it. That's it. That's all there is.

From Plan B: (by Joseph Stannard)