In the Nu-progressive rock underground, few bands are as respected and feared as Philadelphia's The Red Masque. Without irony or kitsch, the whirlwind that is Masque — on the new Feathers for Flesh (Big Balloon) -- stalks the darkness of Hammer Horror ambience and cursedly complex musicianship (think Gong meets Bauhaus) with only feedbacking noise, sound-collage clustering and the howl of vocalist Lynnette Shelley to light its way

A.D. Amorosi
City Paper