Indieville
Drone music being the noise scene's most marketable commodity, I can see Plurals' Half Reality being one of those rare experimental releases that doesn't register scoffs and annoyance from clueless roommates and neighbours. In fact, this all-too brief CDR is a mesmerizingly hypnotic trip that's perfectly suited to dimly-lit rooms overlooking expansive, nighttime cityscapes. The adventure begins with the fourteen minute "Air Yet To Touch Skin," a haunting and oddly regal drone with Emeralds-esque mysticism. Despite its glacial pace, it seems far shorter than a quarter-hour, perhaps due to the subtle sense of tension it projects. The second track, "Hanging Bar," is a sparser work, and haunting for different reasons. An ethereal hum forms the backbone of the track, but it's the faraway, echoing sounds of voices and industrial machinery that occupy its somehow terrifying foreground. This could be the soundtrack to a scratchy, black-and-white horror film, or the sounds that emanate from your car stereo on a rural highway... Previous to encountering this CDR, I was unfamiliar with Plurals' work, but this sublime EP has really piqued my curiosity. Some might contend that "drone music is drone music," but it is those ill-informed unfortunates who really ought to give Half Reality a spin. Now, if only it came in vinyl...

Vital Weekly
There is not a lot of information available on the Dead Sea Liner website about these releases and projects Ð well, nothing at all on the artists really. Take Plurals. Nothing on the cover and only a small description on the release. They (?) are a drone band, with two pieces, in total around twenty-five minutes. Organ or guitar like at the beginning but somewhere half way through ÔAir Yet To Touch SkinÕ a voice with reverb and delay comes in, shouting but pushed to the background. That continues into ÔHanging BarÕ, which make Pluralis make sound like a toned down version of early Ramleh. Nice enough if hardly a big surprise.

Foxy Digitalis
Mining similar subterranean, subconscious territory as Double Leopards, Plurals delivers somewhat uniquely muted howl and babble on this very limited release from the UKÕs Dead Sea Liner imprint. These are two nocturnal drones, evocative of foggy nautical disasters full of protracted drownings, conjuring tragic and gory nightmares. Apparitional voices fade in and out of the psychedelic feedback miasma (electronics? guitar?) lending the bedrock of distant crashes, the foundation of the more ephemeral tones, a mortifying feel to these primarily simple but drenched and saturated gurgles and moans. Alternatingly blissful and morose, Plurals is not exactly singular, but they do satisfy the urge to slowly sink into a blissful wave of underwater white light and disappear forever.