Do The Duvet proffers leftfield hijinks via punk execution, answering all the questions posed by questionable post-punk revivalism with sour lemon sneering and cherry-sweet smiles. It’s a fever dream, really…A flailing, sparking wire of
hyper-compressed rhythms (breathing and synthetic), devolved guitar work and minced electronic compost. The resultant congealed groove is suitable for club situations and/or living space pulsations alike. Either way, the landlord is pissed.