The EP begins with "Coconuts," a bedroom post-punk track trading in the cool detachment of Captured Tracks projects like The Soft Moon. Unlike them, there's nothing studied about The Hands' stance—he sounds absolutely mad singing the song's one word, "coconuts… coconuts… coooo-coooo-nuts." I almost started laughing the first time I heard it. "A Mind" is a buzzing minimal synth production, little more than a droning pulse, a kick drum that sounds like a chopper circling the jungle and a snare reminiscent of waves slapping the sides of a canoe.
The B-side combines that primitive drum programming with guitar that recalls Acid Mothers Temple's Kawabata Makoto at his furthest out. "Deep Tubes" builds a rhythm around an ominous synth arpeggiation while The Hands' sunglasses-at-night vocals melt into a deranged growl. On "She Scream," the Austrian-Balinese "techno cannibal's" guitar screeches over a plodding beat.