apostille

Now if we were a little more mindful of email housekeeping we would at this point be blinding your visuals with oodles upon oodles of information about Apostille. Alas we don’t and we can’t unfortunately given that our inbox is a jumbled up chaotic mess that persons steeled in far more brave fortitude than myself have considered, had a peek and passed up on. It’s like this, the conversational traffic is such that were there 72 hours in a day we still wouldn’t have the time to get through half as much as we get through now which is a shame but a cross we bravely bear. So enough of the grumbling and to Apostille, whose email when we track it down will have its contents posted here in all its unadorned glory, have something of an essential release about to break cover on night school records entitled ‘the collector’ which admittedly has been the cause of some frenzied shape cutting on the rarely spoken about sunday experience dance room floor not least for the fact that its connected us to our youthful teen self having us reimagined crouched around crackly transistors listening to evening broadcasts by the much missed Mr Peel c. 81, for what appears one minute sounding like a Mk 1 human league hybrid in cahoots with the passage soon fractures and loosens itself of its chill waving post punk harness and shape shifts to reveal some shadow lined love in between Front 242 and DAF and with that something that ought to appeal to all those tuning into the kind of vintage groove that the Weird imprint once freewheeled. https://soundcloud.com/nightschool/lssn034-a2-the-collector-ten       

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