Smegma has been around, in one form or another, since 1973, issuing an average of a record a year out of odd tape-loops and jarring-yet-ambient original instrumentation long before electronic sampling was even a glimmer in Mr. and Mrs. Casio's eyes. They achieved a small degree of noteriety in the '80s as one of that proud elite of North American new-music acts hiply obscure enough to have European-only record deals. They're also known among the anti-pop sound exchangers of the international cassette underground. They're near-impossible to describe in rock-critic jargon, since their repertoire doesn't really incorporate melodies, lyrics, or star personalities. I can report my first-ever makeout session was performed to the background of a Smegma tape; this LP is a finely-sequenced suite of nine improvisational mood pieces that don't reject traditional tunes and scales so much as ignore them, in favor of setting their own tonal environment of loud disgust and low-key sly bemusement.