"That's the end of it….The gaps are infinite.…Fell on your sword….Kindly distract from the points that were made….Faced with the fate of the world….Take everything your filthy hands can carry…."The atmosphere that Roman Rappak and Adam Ainger of the UK-based group Breton create is one of some dark times. There might still be dance halls and Monster energy drinks to be had in this place that they describe, but they don't exist in any way that we might remember them as. They've been crushed or mangled beyond recognition and stepping amongst them makes you feel like you need to be as quiet as you can possibly manage to me, just so you don't wake the wild dogs that are sleeping, but always ready to defend the territory. It's all they have left, some mess that was made and bequeathed to the scavengers. People are pocked. The land is more than roughed up. There are very faint vital signs for all of the above. It's visiting the cold cave that used to be a home. It's coming upon a hive on the ground and feeling like you might as well bat at it and see if there's any life there. These are most definitely complicated songs of reluctant surrender, of the human condition that calls into question every decision. These are the reverberations of hesitant participants, who are starting to realize that no one's waiting to feed you sugar cubes for rewards, like the good little horsey you might think you are, and that there might not be any way to win. You might as well just take everything "your filthy hands can carry" and get out.