by Ruth Booth
Rosetta have always trodden a fine line between contrasts. The Anaesthete means one without sensitivity to beauty. Yet the song titles are lifted from the book Sword and Brush by David Lowry, a book about the parallel masteries of calligraphy and martial arts. Those vibrant experimental tendencies – ones that saw their debut The Galilean Satellites released as a tandem-play double-album – are tempered by both a distaste for noodling and for outstaying their welcome.