Armed with only the flawed rhetoric of the past, reference upon reference upon reference upon infinite bloodied reference, I am trying to set the music of Stratford-Upon-Avon’s Christ Reflection to words. I do not hold a valid driving license, and I’m not high, so it’s hard. Their Journey to Realville is the impossible combustion of blast-off (i), righteous full-steam cruise (ii), the click of jets warming down (iii). Edge-of-oblivion stuff, propelled screaming into the future with all the Atlas-borne weight of its heritage. Bass is dialed in white-hot while vocals are kept to a minimum, guitars drift and burst in clouds of screaming shrapnel. You’ll know who Journey to Realville sounds like, without ever knowing who it reminds you of. It is, in short, real, real good shit.