“The torrid dystopia is Pop. 1280's stock-in-trade. Since 2010, these New Yorkers have proffered misshapen, industrial pop, bathed in the profane twilight of Western civilization. The songs are musty, unstable molecules; depraved singer Chris Bug stings them into fevered motion, or slithers idly within. The experience of Pop. 1280 is not unlike a cyber church service where the homily consists of Ye”
