Gateau D'Espace

In 1992, lots of white British people were a soundtracking rave backrooms and smoky squats with mixtures of breakbeats, trippy electronica, a hint of industrial and hefty dub baselines. Meat Beat Manifesto, Future Sound of London, L S Diesel, they were all at it. But few did it with such a sense of gruesome dirt as Terminal Cheesecake. They were as flagrantly foolish as their name, but at the same time deadly serious in their intent to capture the depths of psychic horror it was possible to achieve on gigantic quantities of cheap hashish. If you understand that the concept of a crudely drawn cartoon of a punk-metal band playing heavy reggae is not a bad thing, and want to know what that sounds like, here’s a good place to start.