Beast In The Field appears courtesy of a dark corner in a malignant solar system, slowly bleeding black into earth's skies. It does not produce riffs. It orchestrates lurching stacks of glaciers and rocketing walls of canyons- disintegrating every molecule of mass and throttling the hell out of, and back into, infinite black space. It knows nothing of guitar and drums. It smokes forests of redwood into instant dust with the roar of tectonic plates colliding into a spontaneous pact of continental suicide. You gaze all around in suspended shock at your world, ripping apart at the mountains and streams. yet you know it doesn't come within years of the silence in your head and the sinking in your chest. Beast In The Field is not a band. It is a man-made natural disaster User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.