Crushed Interior, though, is a highly satisfying return to form. The frequency balance is key here: the hi-end is hollowed out and deadened of all reverberance, while slabs of sub-bass are clean and finely articulated, providing a visceral thrill that's rare in a scene not so concerned with soundsystem impact. The sound-palette, too, is distinctive, a collection of pernickety woodblock-like percussion and subdued drones that, far from sounding ineffectual, take on a grippingly claustrophobic quality. There are plenty of fine moments: "Lots Of Scars," with its muted spikes of feedback roaming over an uncanny low-end thud; the taut industrial holding pattern of "A Pack Of Dogs." The highlight, though, is "Dial Tone Degradation," whose boxy, ramshackle pulse feels like it might drift off into space at any moment.
The Prostitutes aesthetic, while hugely appealing, is so focussed and intense that your ears begin to lust after the smallest sonic variation. Donadio exploits this ruthlessly. Closer "Jungle Wine," with its faintly Chain Reaction-esque throb, is the most techno of the lot. It also features pretty much the only bit of reverb on the whole record, a subtle haze that, given the context, feels like manna from heaven. Restraint, as Donadio surely knows, can be a powerful tool. Crushed Interior is an object lesson in its use.