mutehead collective’s ‘three nights of terror’

You might recall us mentioning the mutehead collective when we stumbled upon that frankly superb losscom cut, well it seems the label has gathered their favourite sons for a three set Hallo-phonic marathon that finds Perch, Sirch. and the aforementioned losscom locked in a turn table face off. First up to the plate, Perch cobbles up a futuro technoid set amid the spinning platters select choice cuts a brace of killer cuts from Fabio Frizzi, some Tangerine Dream, Eno, Brad Fiedel and the frankly perfect Burial muddy this astral mind morphing cosmidelica listening spree,  the highlight of the set being ‘valley’ pulled from the ‘phenomena’ soundtrack by Bill Wyman and Terry Taylor.

Sirch. on the other hand appears to have something of a playful nature, a full on audio b-movie fright fest of witching hour weirdness with some progian horror opera from the Alan Parsons Project and plenty of killer kitsch and rock a hula monster mash up’s such as the twang-a-rella ‘clap trap’ from the Vampires, some neat hip wiggling groove from the likes of the Frantics, the Searchers, Link Wray and head hepcat Gene Vincent as well as three servings of the dude of the dark dance himself Screaming Lord  Sutch. Lest we omit to mention the Ramrods blistering take on ‘ghost riders’ while the honour of best moment gets equally split between Screaming jay Hawkins immortal ‘I put a spell on you’ and Kip Tyler’s oozing cool ‘she’s my witch’ while special mention ought to be made of the scuffed up dragster gouged the Upholsterers whose ‘I ain’t superstitious’ sounds like a distant blood relative to Ronnie Dawson’s ‘action packed’.

 Not to be outdone losscom pulls out the eeriest of the three sets here, an immersive slow descent into mind altering detachment, isolation and paranoia, pure chill groove that’s perhaps only missing a spot of Biosphere to round off the sinisterly toned edginess. That said Plaid and Boards of Canada harvest a neat line in dream drifting wooziness while we’ve yet to encounter Clerk on our travels but should the dark monolithic ambient shimmer tones emitting from the glacial ‘fossil paste’ prove to be something of a trademark handiwork then we  feel comfortable in the knowledge we won’t be disappointed by their visitation. Elsewhere Radiohead, Mum and Circuit Jerk all weave in and out of free flowing hive consciousness though it’s Cujo’s smoking noir traced Mancini meets Budd-esque ‘the method’ that shines brightest here.

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