When you tan in the shade of the slag heaps, it makes your skin metallic, it makes the chivalry of blast furnaces, no more cat guts along the guitar, from now on you pull cables. On the brisk EP, the Brussels band enters darker, more serious post-punk territory, vacillating between fast and slow melodies and high and low energy. The deep vocals range from tense whispers to unhinged screams. They take the listeners on a journey, incorporating discordant riffs, groans, spoken words and eerie sci-fi tones. The songs structures aren't easy to map out. The oil is passed to the acid one sniffs of the bat in powder and all that leaves the body becomes black. Warm Exit is a dangerous alloy, the uranium is enriched in evil spells, yesterday's sputum has become today's fog. It is in this molasses that they summon this post-punk sweat that rots in your vein cellar.