Under the blistering suns of musical icons lays a field of glass. Jagged, glittering, unkept and willful. A teeming ecosystem of rough hewn shards reflecting, refracting and magnifying the sharp brilliance from above. Dazzling oases of technicolour wonder; retina etching rays; blown cones and rattling cabinets. Sonic titans at peak powers, flooded engines spluttering to life, basement tapes and demos. All praise to the mutators, the saturators, the sustainers, the chooglers, the rhythm sections. Celebrating those holding down one note, stripping out the inessential, layering on the unnecessary and insisting on running through the chord changes one more time. It's deja vu all over again.