Big Hearts, Small Rats begins benignly enough. The muffled, scratched CD sound of rap coming from what seems like several doors away is sporadically drowned out by various unnameable noises closer by. It’s all so quiet, and purposely so; no sooner had I turned the volume up in my headphones than an unbearable blast of microphone feedback shot through my cranium so loudly as to infuriate my wife who was sat across the opposite side of the room. I grinned (or grimaced – it can be a struggle to differentiate between the two on my face) and fumbled for the volume again, this time to turn it down in the knowledge the duo had tried to deafen me on purpose. The piece develops into a collage of sorts, combining an oddly humid netherworld hum with shouts of life on the surface, though it never quite reaches the early levels of screeching brain-wreck again.