Look what we sneaked online while you were sleeping……..part 5….
revolutions of a 45 or 33 kind…
fifth part of this year or more gathering of sounds that have tickled our turntable……
Actually picked this up on the norman records update, not that we condone such blatant advertising and neither as the case is will they been sending over a box load of goodies by way of a thank you mainly because they won’t have known we’ve mentioned them – ho hum. But moving swiftly on, we did eye this rather delectable item heading out of the blackest ever black imprint from tropic of cancer from an EP called ‘stop suffering’ from which this is the lead cut. This demurring honey comes ghosted and possessed of a coolly glacial burn all murmured in the crushing forlorn arrest of an aching majesty that much minded us of the adored mirroring. For here amid the spectral frost tipped stillness a porcelain sculpturing is applied delicately draped in a divine hymnal hush trimmed in the slow seductive peel of Cocteau-ian opines.
The emotion sparking from this is enough to have the steeliest and most resolute of souls literally cowering and broken by its hurt. This tortured beauty is the latest offering from Aloric of whom comparisons to explosions in the sky and Anthony and the johnsons. All good calls given that the amorphous and almighty ‘Grace’ is applied with a daunting elegance that shape shifts from a magisterial point of hurtful reflection to soaring cut loose free spiritedness in seven of the most impacting minutes you’ll probably hear in an age all of which combine to take you from the betraying murmur of an aching hymnal from the perspective of an abandoned 8 year old seen the eye of the adult to the volcanic rage and arcing statuesque beauty of that adult stepping from the long casting shadow of his father’s name and demanding legacy to consolidate his own place and affirm his own identity. The protagonist caught in the middle of this emotional storm being the late Jeff Buckley for ‘Grace’ centres on absence and rejection and imagines Jeff as a child being taken to see his father Tim and by and large being ignored for all his there and years later being discovered performing a tribute set for his dad . Just wait to the impacting finale last third of the track where emerging from the lifelong isolation of rejection and regret, something towering shines forth and burns brightly though all to sorrowfully brief. Devastating stuff. https://soundcloud.com/aloric/grace
Mentioned this a few days or so ago – in fact here – https://marklosingtoday.wordpress.com/2015/10/26/topos-locos-3 – a twang-a-rella surfadelica shimmer toning seven inch pop platter gouged on red and black swirly wax arriving imminently at a record emporium near you soon. A double b-side feature that’s adored on one side by the hugely admired topos locos whose ‘Madelina Valentina’ still sounds to these ears like a hip shimmying slab of 60’s sophisticat spy noir ricocheting from out of the fading mists of time all coolly strut grooved and kaleidoscopically swirled in a vintage late 60’s ITC storybook tapestry that’s oozed in murder, mystery and fatal romance whilst sonically served by a morphing mindset of TV Personalities and Brand Violets’ back room ne’er do well’ers Henderson Shatner types. As to the Blue Giant Zeta Puppies half of the groove grizzled pact, they serve up the spooked – a – delic monster mash ‘the man who cheated death’, a sub three minute tomb rumbling flesh creeping b-movie shocker-a-rama exhumed from the horror-phonic picture landscapes of the Weird Tales illustrator of Lee Brown Coye, that comes ghosted in the kind of reverb soaked primordial terror twang that that spends storm gloomed witching hours plays murder in the dark with the Cramps and the Meteors in the basement of 1313 mockingbird lane. – pre fright wig ear gear. Go to at your earliest peril – toposlocos,bandcamp.com or thebluegiantzetapuppies.bandcamp.com
Another gem heading the way of the coolest record emporiums the length and breadth of the nation is a newly peeled twin set from the Honey Pot. Ahead of a February scheduled full length ‘inside the whale’ arriving via mega dodo – who you’ll be fed up of hearing about in the coming few days as we’ve been stockpiling nuggets aplenty – ‘lisa dreams’ has been sent out on scouting duties for optimum listening wooziness. A gorgeously affectionate slice of playfully purred sun parading 60’s lilt pop that arrives bathing your ear space in a woozy kaleidoscopic magicalia of lysergic bouquets and flowery twinkles all the time demurred and dinked in the kind of pristinely turned vintage craft that has you double checking to make sure its authorship isn’t the much missed Eleanor Rigby. That said there’s magic making aplenty over on the flip for ‘into the deep’ sounds as though its floated through some hidden mystical portal upon a peace pipe smoke cloud, a magic bus happening that finds the Honey Pot-ters getting down, loose and spiritual as though a lost 60’s flower power dream coat gathering of the Doors, the Band and Jefferson Airplane types had all converged amid a humungous smoked out hash huddle to concoct a high as a kite hippy dream gospel, absolutely out there and trippy with it. ‘Lisa Dream’s incidentally also marks the launch of an uber limited Mega Dodo Singles Club due for launch next year. The club limited to just 150 places comprises of four specially pressed up releases from the Honey Pot – of course – octopus syng, us and them and one other to be announced all housed in a handsome looking box, all on coloured vinyl along with various freebies and inserts as well as a signed copy of ‘Lisa Dreams’. Go to http://www.mega-dodo.co.uk for further details.
Caught this dandy whilst on a spot of goofing around on the you tube channel, not sure whose stocking this over here but it’s from a German beat combo by the name the Wrong Society who hail from Hamburg. This bad boy – incidentally titled ‘she destroyed me’ is out through market square and comes oozed and swirled in vintage Hammonds aplenty not to mention boasting the kind of authentic 60’s garage gouged shimmy that would have you believe it’d fallen into oblivion only to resurface and be reclaimed via one of those record vault rummaging back from the grave type compilations, whatever the case evidence aplenty here of one or two of the bands number being keen eared admirers of the Seeds and the Wailers.
Now there is the suspicious side of my persona whose radar starts going into overdrive each and every time we unearth one of these archive finds purporting to be lost electronic soundtracks from the 70’s and early 80’s masquerading amid the hauntologist domain – I mean did we all go to sleep while this was happening, sure as hell the 80’s were pretty woeful in terms of culture whether that be film, fashion or indeed music but I’m fairly I remember being awake just long enough to catch the occasional good bits. Or am I being a little disingenuous when I feel a little hoodwinked. Case in point, we eyed this on the recently set up ‘new ‘spooky music’ facebook page,, it’s by Kehrschleife an analogue electronic unit headed up by the late Wolfgang Tilner. A rare find if we are led to believe what we are hearing and reading (– though I’ll leave that to your own individual investigative notions – ) in so much that apart from sounding light years ahead of the experimental curve, Tilner and Co might well be considered first generation purveyors and indeed godfathers of the type of 70’s boffin bop that we so readily associate with the whole Ghost Box family. Recorded around ’81 ‘kehrschleife eins’ is awash in cold war call signs that trip around the more shadowy edges of the kosmiche universe albeit as though tweaked by bearded cardigan wearing potting shed owning electronics and home radio enthusiasts with a penchant for secret messages tapped out in the binary bleep calculations of Radiophonic Workshop happenings and the decoding of number station transmissions. Of particular interest here is ‘Leonid Breznev’ which goes as far as to craft out a deliriously though oddly detached dystopian cold war arasbesque while elsewhere ‘hochseeschioffahirt’ tunes itself directly into the robo-noid nexus of the Add N to X hive mind. All said it’s the parting ‘umdreien wieder ein wider’ that firmly ensconced itself into our affections as it distantly orbits the abandoned dark stars serenading the voids in star crossed swirls of demurring milky murmurs that hint of fortdax-ian ghost lights shimmering in the heavens and which all said hint a tad closely to the crooked cosmic carousels happened upon by that Midwich Youth Club dude Allan Murphy (who incidentally posted these finds – a little more stoking of the fires for your pause for thought methinks). https://kehrschleife.bandcamp.com/album/kehrschleife-eins
Latest dandy from the polytechnic youth imprint, think you know the deal with these releases by now as they fly off the racks in superfast time becoming the must have objects of desire on various online auction sites. Just a brief mention on this occasion while we hopefully get to secure a copy in the coming days, this edition coming on a limited pressing of just 77 copies features the mysterious Middex whose ‘space sorry’ sounds as though it was cultured in classic era Some Bizarre sound laboratory with Daniel Miller under his alternative persona the Normal heading up a team of specially selected chill pop chemists (Jones, Anderson, Cabaret Voltaire et al) to craft out sparse ly emotionless industrial electronic sound-scapes for Cronenberg obsessed bleak blank generation minimalist nightmarish scenarios of future visions scarred in dystopian urban decay grey.
Something to chill and serenade your Friday the 13th in an uneasy macabre psychosis, this is ‘Ascension’ by Belgium based dark dudes Syrenomelia, a sonic séance of dark disturbia that ought to be on the listening radar of those who occasion the shadowy hinterlands of the Unseen and Melmoth the Wanderer. Gloomed in twilight worlds that lurk somewhere between the sparse minimalism of John Carpenter and the morbid beauty and edgy nerve jangle of Fabio Frizzi, ‘Ascension’ provides a pathway to the beyond, all at once icy and elegant, its neo classical persona petrified in arcane ritualism and a time old gothic resonance that haunts and hangs with bleak content.
Story telling interlude ‘number 13’
A chilling chapter from the macabre mind of M R James, a reading of ‘number 13’ by the late great Christopher Lee….
This is the debuting release on the newly minted highs and lows imprint that certain to do a fair fine shed load of record store counter action and damage we wouldn’t be surprised to find if this poke you in the eye slice of effervescent spiky headed pop throb is anything to judge by. Out early December, this is the new dandy on the turntable by Spring King entitled ‘who are you?’ – a three and a half minute shot of hair on your neck standing to attention angularised panic pop that comes pressing heavy on the nerves with such quick silvered intent you’d do less damage to the senses had you wired yourself to the household mains in a spot of thrill seeking DIY shock treatment. With its prowling circular riffola – quite frankly the blighter is so up close and personal and in your face that under most circumstances many might warrant the option of a restraining order, still the bugger comes rippled in all manner of high wiring effervescence that we here feel impossibly adoring of – references should you need might stray towards the potent edge grizzled side of white rose movement.
Arriving soon for black Friday record store day – whatever next Scarlet Tuesday, Lemony Wednesday….this fine platter from Spoon – who we swear we’ve had occasion to mention previously – comes pressed up very limited quantities of 10 inch wax and features upon its grooves a rather drop dead gorgeous and acutely faithful cover of the Cramps’ ‘TV set’ replete with cool croons aplenty that have more of the Gene than the Lux sitting smoking on their shoulder whilst rumbled perfectly in the reverb prowl of classic Link. Out via loma vista.
Musical interlude – found sounds…..1
Happened across this on an old cassette recording of a late 90’s Peel show, actually forgot how damn fine this particular track was – remember getting this from a mail order place Foggy Notion who used to these neat review fanzine type things copies of which we fondly poured over though alas lost forever in various divorces, splits etc…..anyhow this was originally out on the mighty Wurlitzer Jukebox imprint and was the debut release for Plone.
A fried phantasmagoric psychedelic freak mugicalia might be the best way to going some way to describing Jack Ellister’s frankly weirded out tapestry ‘tune up your ministers and start transmission from pool holes to class o hypergiants’ though how you’d get your mits on one of these rarefied platters is alas a thing of dreaming obsession. Just 111 fulsome vinyl artefacts have been pressed – all alas sold out on pre sale alone and coming stamped up blue / turquoise wax featuring some truly eye catching artwork and poster designing by Anne von Freyburg. ‘tune up….’ might well lay claim to being not only the last great psych release of the year, discounting the Chemistry Set’s forthcoming which strictly speaking isn’t officially due until next January and perhaps all said prove itself a late contender for the finest lysergic happening of the year. A truly expansive and creatively intricate set spread across nine zapped out suites – okay eight in reality, because ‘calm adaptor’ serves as a side bridging interlude, that opens to former fruits de mer single ‘the man with the biochopper’ – a zonked out slab of stratospheric astral-asian tweaked freak beat that’s found veering ever so closely into Paul Roland territories. Dropping down a gear or three the dream-weaving pastoral demur of ‘the sun sends me hails, victory, power, peace and shelter’ – admittedly a title as long as the track itself – finds itself wandering the leafy village green secret lands of a ‘mummer’ era XTC who here are found offering safe haven and a welcoming handshake for a passing visitation by a youthful Bevis Frond. Unless ears do deceive ‘Saddle up the horse’ had me much minded of a lost recording featuring prime era Bowie shimmying to the metal guru grooves of Marc Bolan backed by the Spiders from Mars on this occasion undergoing something of a slow roving studio invasion by Mott the Hoople. One of the sets highlights – and believe you me there are plenty to choose from – the kaleidoscopic opera that is ‘Great Esmeralda’ cheekily manages to blend and blur moments of lazy eyed cloud watching dreaminess with strains of west coast sunshine pop and primitive delta blues codas in a freaky goo which when observed through the viewfinder of a fractured English psychedelic spy glass takes on a hue that might leave one suspecting that it’s cue has been the result of an accidental shrink washed redux of the Pretty Things frankly immortal ‘SF Sorrow’ with heavy emphasis placed on ‘defecting grey’ for its guiding marker whereupon the said mini master-worked mosaic was then led from the fore by psychedelic pied piper Syd Barrett. Elsewhere the homely and intimate rustic hush ‘old south’ is a moment of off guarded beauty draped in thoughtful seafaring hues and kissed with a tenderised tapestry traced with the subtle handiwork of Robyn Hitchcock and Nick Nicely is found. All said best moments of the set come with the arrival of the albums parting brace ‘curator’ and ‘a hunter needs a gun’ – the former a fog bound dub dosed shanty ghosted in sepia whispers and the kind of shadow lined weariness that wouldn’t too out of place on an early career release by the Clinic albeit as though cultured in the spirit of Toshack Highway’s debut outing, while the latter provides for an oddly absorbing yet haunting slice of hymnal psychotropia whose spectral ghost lights and hollowed sense of achingly graceful majesty sumptuously plays tag with mirror mirror. Essential.
Those of you with a memory for these type of things might well recall several years ago two bands going by the names the Clerks and Kaputt. I simply mention this because early doors teaser taster ‘way of sorrow’ by the hotly tipped Irish pysch pups the Altered Hours has all the wherewithal and lysergic art pop kool kudos about its wares as to suggest their forthcoming long playing platter ‘in heat not sorry’ might well be a release worthy of turntable action and indeed adoration when it rears into full earshot come January time. Of course there will be those who might be a little more obvious in zoning in on its almost dream ticket imagining of a studio rumpus gathering together a Kim led Pixies going head to head with My Bloody Valentine. Alas no sound links though rest assured we are working on it…..
More uncanny creep fest paranoiac macabre, on this occasion culled from the ‘Wallpaper’ soundtrack, this is the frankly unsettling psychosis seeped ‘Philip’ by Barry Snaith. Three minutes of haunting isolationism that you’d do well to scuttle for the safe comfort afforded by the back of the settee for its chilling visitation, stricken in detachment and ghosted in dead air upon which eerie sonic shadows flicker with menacing intent, ‘Philip’ isn’t so much an easy listening experience but rather more a gruesome and disturbing trip into the darkness of an unravelling psychotic mind.
Somewhere out there, at a point where alternate realities collide; where the long established principles of the laws of physics, as we’ve come to understand, along with our own perceptions and beliefs become twisted, blurred and bent to a point of utter confusion; where the old rules and fears, once thought borne of misguided legend, custom and practice, become real; where visions past, present and future co-habit the same space and where the protective veil between the living and the dead is breached, there you’ll find perched Melmoth the Wanderer, a would be gatekeeper of ghostly grooves and ghastly shadow plays sat at the very precipice of oblivion. A silent observer perhaps a watcher orchestrating and fine tuning the ensuing chaos and by the application of a slow turn of the dial of his macabre musical box he opens briefly to reveal the contents of his sonic Pandora box. ‘the whispered nightmare’ his latest broadcast from beyond is a witching wonderland of creaking fairgrounds, dismembered lullabies, dark rituals and nightmarish disorientation all tangled upon the dread drift of eerie echoes.
the first of a few related items heading out of Wales that you’ll find peppering these pages at some point today with this particular cut perhaps proving to be the sexiest thing on our sound player right this very moment. Now it won’t come as any great surprise to hear or indeed read that we have absolutely no information on Yr Ods except to say ‘heroes i’r drfn’ is quite the most slinky thing you’ll hear all day rooted as it is in the kind of smoking soft sophistication that initially attracted us to Static Caravan sorties Tokolosh yet here framed upon a shimmer toning Studio 54 club floor mooring and seductively illuminated in the kind of celestial pulsars that adore the mix in an alluring chic that sits arrestingly on an axis with Air at one end and the Art of the Memory Palace at the other.
Caught this on a preview on the latest spools out transmission more of which we’ll mention in a wee while. This little gem hails all the way from Toronto via the power moves library imprint and its by Nate Scheible. Sadly all – er – 27 copies of the cassette have long since flown the coup though before you all have heart palpitations and reduce yourself to tears, we are happy to report that its available as a free download. And download you should because ‘Matter’ is a rather affectionate sweetie that’s sub divided into nine miniature suites which on this occasion our attention was drawn to the parting finale that is ‘Matter009’. Perfect for those of you attuned to the releases of the much admired Cathedral Transmissions, Handstitched and other such like, this spectral slice of ambient hypno drone is a beautifully choreographed dream haze demurred by modular chorals all silkily spun in ethereal whispers and tendered in a trance toned sereneness of shimmering vapour trailing ghost lights. https://powermoveslibrary.bandcamp.com/album/matter
you know how it is, get drawn to a newly acquainted label courtesy of one release, found you’ve liked it so much that you decide to go off on a wander to see what else they have in store and you turn up another stone wall gem. Now we here suspect that if ever by chance Loren Connors had run into My Cat is an Alien and once done of the greetings and coffee, had ambled into a local recording studio to camp out for an evening freeform soiree, then the sounds of Running Point’s two track outing ‘Ti Rise’ would be a pretty close call as to what might tumble out bleary eyed into the morning sunlight of said sound hole as a result. Again strictly limited – this time 15 copies, again all sold out via power moves library and available – phew – as a free download. Within you’ll find two extended suites, we’ve only had time to sample ‘side a’ so far but have found ourselves suitably smitten, 22 minutes of transcendental cloud watching to some perhaps, to us though emerging through the hazy heat mirages a deliciously smoking lap steel configured slice of woozy delta blues that at once manages to join the invisible dots between John Fahey, Roy Montgomery, Ry Cooder and Stars of the Lid. https://powermoveslibrary.bandcamp.com/album/ti-rise
Musical interlude…..found sounds 2….
More unearthed and forgotten musical gems from another age, whatever happened to this lot, recently turned up on an old cassette courtesy of an old Mark Radcliffe session from the Radio 5 days…..this is the criminally underrated Wonky Alice…available on pomona imprint, alas lost my copy of the album……
This one’s a bit of a puzzle as we can’t make out whether or not – though we suspect it is – this is part of the vital distribution corps who at one time or another in the dark dim past we used to get highly informative release schedule lists from which aside opening us up to some very strange sounds operating on the outer edges of the pop spectrum as well as being used by us to pester our poor beleaguered record emporium with demanding wants lists. Anyway it probably isn’t them in which case we’ve wasted typing space and spent the last 100 plus words fondly reminiscing out of our backside. However point of this is that there’s a nifty mix cloud content featuring the pickings of current releases being serviced on a weekly basis that we’ve just eyed, a 25 minute round up relaying what’s causing a buzz on the underground, current pod #1006 (hell there’s plenty of catching up to do if that’s the case) opens to the Ramones and B-52’s mind melt meets Sigue Sigue Sputnik happenings of the excellently named magic moments at twilight time whose ‘blitzkrieg’ is you’re A bomb embracing hillbilly hooting road grooved slice of rock-a-hula which truth has it had us much recalling of a spikier variant of the Boot Hill Foot Tappers. Taylor Deupree and Marcus Fischer’s ‘sailmaker’ is a more considered affair, a neo classical drone scape that sounds as though its making its lonesome journey across the fog bound rivers of Styx and Acheron. It’s been way too long since machinefabriek troubled these pages, I’d like to think they’ve been lessened as a result, here twinned with Celer for ‘Hei’ which desirably finds itself translating into a delightful example of sustained poise, measurement and soft sonic propulsion. Long time admirers of the much missed Mixing It broadcasts via BBC Radio 3 many, many years many feel a sense of radio listening déjà vu upon hearing Powertrio’s ‘di lontan fa specchio II mare’ mainly for its eerie elegance and beautified balance in so much as you feel the slightest little wind tremor will cause it’s delicate ice sculptured enchantment to shatter into tiny fragments. More ghostly drone scapes usher forth our way on an untitled piece by Phillip Schulze and Andrew Raffo Dewar that had us much minded to root out and reacquaint ourselves with the work of Alphane Moon and Our Glassie Azoth. Another untitled piece next, this one featuring Deison who I’m certain we may have mentioned previously via outings for Aagoo who incidentally will be featuring later at some surprise unknown point. Here teamed up with Gianluca Favaron for a spot of subterranic mining of the more denser sonic sub strata and returning back to base with what sounds like some strange manifestation from a Quatermass happening. Those who like their jazz a little hairy, chin stroking and out there might fancy the warped and weird ju-ju being cooked up by Gasper Claus and Matthieu Prual on ‘part IV’ which in truth sounds not unlike some seriously way out Henry Cow incarnation being scalped by James Chance and the Contortions. Last up and by no means least, with its slowly arcing shifts in tonality, we here are suspecting that Tim O’Dwyer’s ‘hysteresis II’ might give anything that the combined ranks of both the kranky and important sound houses could muster up by way of a run for its money in terms of slow burn sonics, delayed tuning and dronal manipulation.
Distractively deranged, dishevelled and seductively shambolic, ‘her name is love’ is the first serving of Schizo Fun Addict happenings from a forthcoming ultra limited split tape release with the Bordellos entitled ‘kassette’ through the small bear imprint. It finds them cutting loose getting down, feral, detuned and high on the mind expansive smoky haze of a humungous garage psych peace pipe whilst staring down the kaleidoscopic rabbit hole of the Walking Seeds to suffer wired and warping episodes of head freaked wooziness resulting from the light fingered lifting of the Fuzztones lysergic mojo bag. Totally zonked and gone.
I’m suspecting that there were a few harrumphs and disagreeing grumbles when upon last encountering the Chemistry Set we did play down the merits of ‘the splendour of the Universe’ – a track that left in the hands of less worthy would have warranted an admirable full stop in their career. But hang on. This is the Chemistry Set and in their hands and weighted against the psychedelic smorgasbord that is their forthcoming full length ‘the endless more and more’, ‘the splendour of the universe’ is a mere footnote, perhaps more so a stepping stone to greater and grander things, like say for instance, ‘Albert Hofman’. The latest sneak peek inside the Chemistry Set’s forthcoming mind morphing hallucinogenic collage (out) focuses its attentions to the inventor of LSD, paraded by a suitably warping video which itself is deserving of a mention alone, ‘Albert Hofman’ is a trip-a-delic voyage to un-obscured lands behind our eyes’ protective lens, where signals flicker and shift along bright rainbows made up of colours that sing, a place where the surroundings chatter and time and space contract and expand to the pace and pulse of the cosmic heartbeat. A classically crafted slice of pure undiluted English psychedelia, a kaleidoscopic karousel dimpled in dissolving dissipates and mind altering mosaics all found sitting amid mushroom fields weaving a dream dazed tapestry of music hall wooziness atop flotillas of lysergic lilts on an astral axis situated somewhere between classic era Syd Floyd and the Dukes of Stratosphear, quite frankly off its cake.
Plenty of catching up for us to do over the coming days upon finding that spools out has been cobbling out mix cloud treats aplenty since being invited to air their listening delights on Resonance FM, was it really last Christmas or perhaps worse still, the Christmas before, that we last had cause to have them gracing our pages in what was a year end round up of the best tape releases. Show #29 is a positive feast of underground finds from across the globe featuring imprints resolutely keeping the cassette flame alive. The set opens with a Nate Scheible sortie mentioned in an earlier dispatch before swiftly moving to the hypno grooving earthbeat and slow pulsar shimmy of melly’s quite attractively alluring ‘um gum’ – a track which, all said, had us in mind of the intricately detailed minimalist murmur of tarwater’s recent set for bureau b this gem coming pulled from a cassette release put out by where to now. Nicola Ratti’s ‘ankle again through the where to now imprint offers a darker perspective sounding to these ears like a dense appreciation of Blue Monday’s ‘murder’ being re-visualised by a particularly brooding clock dva. ‘definition dub’ as you rightly come to expect, and quite possibly rightly demand, is a neat slice of head shrooming dub-tropia relocated to, unless our ears do despair, some Tibetan outland, anyhow its by Jay Glass Dubs and is heading out of Hyle Tapes. Somewhere else there’s the hugely creative melee cobbled together by the Warsaw Improvisers who surely deserve further investigation not least because ‘that’ from an Astral Spirit issued cassette sounds not unlike a Zorn’d out Terry Edwards decamped on the pickled egg imprint and found going head to head with Now. What an immaculate racket Senyawa make courtesy of the end of the alphabet cassette label, in truth we here reckon beta lactam ring are missing a trick for this is just out there and fried, all wiring tribal chants, screeching aplenty and doomy throat chants much recalling Soriah going toe to toe with a particularly scorched and demonic sounding La STPO. I’m sure we’ve featured the wares of bum tapes at some point in our written existence, if we haven’t then more fool us, for ‘summers of love’ from the paired craft of Stuart Chalmers and Graham Dunning is a strangely warping experience albeit only a brief segment here, there’s more than a whiff of creative skulduggery afoot as to have you eager to investigate more not least if your chosen listening poison happens to veers into Frank and Wobblty Sons territories. Those of a certain and fascination for such things might well remember how annoying metal tapes where, useless for recording over because they’d leave ghostly residues of your former taping experiences. I mention all this because I fear Radis Benu’s vintage arcadia ‘prspctv4 endless bubble’ has been similarly beset and through the ferric haze a sepia ghosted time slip transistor knob teiddling curio from a lost past have been reawakened. Equally strange Broshuda’s glitch hop ‘heatmap’ – once examined under the sonic eyeglass appears like a magnified aural mosaic of some huge hulking interplanetary pinball wizard being played with small planets and passing stars. Out via extreme ultimate, Cove’s ‘crystallisation of human tusks’ veers ever so closely to the stately post rockian altitudes of San Lorenzo , all at once brooding, bruised and beautiful. Oozed in flurries of dreamy flotillas, we must admit to being taken by the liquidy lilts of Cian’s quite adorable ‘hudson song’ with its subtly oriental washes and lunar lulls. There will be third kind records action shortly given the label recently sent over a quite amazing tape release by fisty Kendal which has been receiving the required adoration since arriving in our gaff, for now something from their Halloween mix tape that we mentioned in passing a little while back from Wrong Signals, this being ‘battle fields’ who carve out what can only be described as a hypnosis inducing cosmic SOS. Admittedly you might be hearing more from rings around Saturn given we here are more than a little smitten by ‘fin’ – a gloriously demurring not to mention lovelorn oceanic orbital opining arrestingly from some distant galactic outpost. That said we are adoring of the playful confusion enacted upon our listening space by Kalou whose ‘invitation to love’ once emerged from its crooked opening unfurls as though a variant of Julee Cruise’s ‘fallen’ re-assembled by an impish the Knife. Those ever found lying at wake at night wondering what mutoid sounds might emerge had Depth Charge and Biosphere ever happened to share the same studio space, time and dimension then we suggest you seek out Couch Souvenirs ‘lebensschleife’ while those fancying a spot of coolly strobed noir dinked industrial trip hop operatics sophistication might be minded to cast an appreciative ear over Astrosuka and ornamenti’d’oro’s enigmatic darkwave darling ‘ahaetulla nasutu’ which unless memory fails put me much in mind of a youthful Noblesse Oblige squaring up to SPK. Is that a Theremin we do hear on Die Geister Beschworen’s ‘on my moneth’s minde’ from their tarkovsky greem imprint release, all wonderfully woozy death folk. And so we’re back with the power moves label for talugung whose ‘conversion vase’ features on a charity compilation put out by the label which we will try and squeeze in here in the coming days. As to ‘conversion vase’ a gorgeous pastoral posy, is that flutes and analogue keys we hear, daintily daubing the listening space in an airy dream drift, very Phillip Glass all said. Final post for this particular spools out transmission comes from ondness with ‘curfew’ from their where to now label release, ‘sentinela’- a wonderful cloud watching spectacle of micro sonic cosmic collages traced in dub daubed vapour trailing flotillas all dinked by the soft turn of delicately shifting tonalities – does it for us. https://spoolsoutradio.wordpress.com/
You’ll have to pardon us when we say that we can’t for the life of us remember how, where or by way of whom we come by this little slice of tastiness. It’s from a set called ‘tape’ by Chastity and its heading out of the hand drawn Dracula imprint, this un going by the name ‘you’re scary now’ starts out a little misleadingly having you thinking your veering into smoking slabs of gnarled stateside grunged blues via an early 90’s Peel listening soiree before sweetly blossoming into a full on hazily glazed woozy psych tweaked dream popping overture of the kind that used to sneak out of the Ultimate imprint in quick fire succession, this babe coming sumptuously clipped in lysergic washes and acutely possessed of strut cool kudos aplenty. Available on digital and cassette the latter of which we suspect we need in our listening life sharpish or else we fear we’ll spontaneous combust. https://soundcloud.com/handdrawndracula/sets/chastity-tape/s-g0GTw
Mentioned this lot a little while back – here in fact – https://marklosingtoday.wordpress.com/2014/09/19/whyte-horses/ – just in case you forgot – be honest now – you did didn’t you. Shame. Here’s another cut from – we gather – the same release through CRC by Whyte Horses, this one being the ridiculously effervescent ‘la couleur originelle’ – a sun sparked sortie that literally purrs feel good cuteness as it flightily jigs along an acutely affectionate kaleidoscopic lounge landscape much like a happier Divine Comedy engaging upon hip shimmying sugary pop-a-delics with Le Bleu with a very youthful Of Montreal busily busking in the background. https://soundcloud.com/crcmusic/la-couleur-originelle
Musical interludes…….found sounds 3…..
More memories from another time, we were tempted to include the extended mix here but decidedly to stick with the original twelve inch edit, this is the dog danders that is ‘everything about you’ by My Jealous God which ushered into our lives and listening space sometime 1990 via rough trade, did that album ever appear we wonder……
Musical interlude……found sounds 4….
Tell me again what is there not to love about this, just divine, this is Dead Can Dance with ‘the host of seraphim’ – if ever the word majestic was so apt, it is here, utterly enchanting and elegiac – the range of emotion is unbelievable from the polar extremes where pain, sorrow and despair stand collected in one corner with hope, salvation and rebirth t’other – it is in one solitary word – immaculate.
Musical interlude…..found sounds 5….
Appearing, if I rightly recall, on three of the finest imprints of the day, Summershine, bus stop and seminal twang, adored so much here we bagged all three variant this is Velvet Crush and the quite frankly immortal teen dream heart ache that is ‘ash and earth’ – had everything – wah wah’s, a hook line you’d never tire of hugging and the kind of delirious psych pop shimmering that fringes were made to flop to all sumptuously shoehorned into three adoring minutes of sun sparked effervescence…..
I’ve said this before, but I’m getting the feeling that some of you press folk know what’s musically better for us than we do in the greeting observation of a short note that simply said ‘thought these guys would be of interest’. And of interest they most certainly are. Like some rescuing guiding light flickering in the glooming haze, shining brightly pointing the way out to an exit route, this is the latest darling heading out of the Cannibal Hymns imprint by way of a limited cassette release from Morning Smoke entitled ‘Soft Decay’ – a bruising fork in the road that sets its stall as a darkly anthemic sonic self help pill. Glazed in a brooding early 80’s majesty, ‘Soft Decay’ arrives strangely daubed in a trembling ache speared upon a hulking front line aural artillery of storm stirred atmospherics weighted to the hanging chime of a groaning grandeur ghosted upon by stratospheric riffing arcs, a sweetly howling beauty imagining the Chameleons lost, torn and frantically mired in the shadow lands of the Cure’s ‘pornography’. https://soundcloud.com/cannibalhymns/morning-smoke-soft-decay-3
Staying with Cannibal Hymns a wee second longer, we eyed this on their web site, currently being primed for waxen love this is the labels forthcoming cutie from Our Girl entitled ‘Sleeper’ – an ear candy slice of drifting dream pop cuteness which on initial listening had us very much fondly minded of some hitherto secret meeting place joining the dots between a bliss kissed Lush and a purring softly strut kicked Throwing Muses all shimmered upon soft 60’s intonations, honey crushed harmonies and the slow to burn pout of Belly. https://soundcloud.com/cannibalhymns/our-girl-sleeper-hymns003/s-U8rky
Haven’t a clue about anything relating to these dudes, the information cupboard is sadly bare, but hell – what a honey ‘the loudest of them’ is, despite the raging winds and the bleak howling rain outside we swear this honey has sprinkled myriads of kaleidoscopic magic dust amid our listening space, love at first listen. This is Sun Machine and ‘the loudest of them’ is quite frankly the best thing we’ve heard since falling under the adoring spell of Woods’ ‘cali in a cup’ – a lost in the moment hullucinogenic love bomb swirling amid a trip-a-delic carousel spraying psychedelic petals – just irresistible, impossibly perfect and without doubt the coolest thing in record land right this minute……
Musical interlude…..found sounds 6….
The superior Peel session version of the Tindersticks classic ‘my sister’, it’s that bit just around 2.32 where everything just starts to kick in picking up the pace with a smoking chic and a smoothly cool 60’s sophistication that hits us where it matters…
Due to dock earth orbit sometime around February next year, a six-sided triple vinyl odyssey from Cavern of Anti-Matter entitled ‘void beats / invocation trex’ through the recently reactivated Duophonic imprint passes through our sonic solar system. The collective made up of ex Stereolab-ers Gane and Dilworth along with Holger Zapf find themselves picking up the odd stray passenger along the way with sonic boom, Bradford cox and jan st werner all applying for temporary boarding passes. The set itself continues the Anti Matter dudes ongoing voyage into total immersive kosmiche, with ‘melody in high feedback tones’ being sent ahead by way of a scouting shuttle, a slyly dream dazed slice of 60’s lounge noir cultured in sounds of the future revisited from the past that very much chimes to a vintage cosmic coolness ghost lit in subtle spy sophistication that comes tripped in a lush aural flora seductively dipping between distant worlds co-habited by John Barry, Henry Mancini and Broadcast. https://soundcloud.com/cavern-of-anti-matter/melody-in-high-feedback-tones-coam/s-a1uMu
Where have you been all my life. Without doubt the sexiest thing in record land right this minute, this be the new groove heading out of the quietly admired pnkslm sonic stable, it’s by Sudakistan, taken from their debuting long player platter ‘caballo negro’ and it’s called ‘you and your way. Blighter literally oozes cool swaggering as it does out of a ghostly stoner glam fuzz haze dragging in its wake opining echoes once belonging to the mighty Flaming Stars all doused in a wasted vintage all howled by desert dry haloes of humungous hanging riffola. Now tell me what’s not to love and adore.
Weird stuff moment…..part of a short documentary charting the making of Kenneth Anger’s ‘lucifer rising’…….
Just for a moment I’m 5 years old, shorts, pumps, a particular nasty t-shirt and a homemade haircut modelled from a saucepan and blunt scissors, my head is filled with Star Trek, UFO, Captain Scarlett and the Avengers, reading TV21 and Lion and Thunder comics whilst playing with my dinky collection and bouncing on my space hopper and eating spangles – cola flavoured of course because they left lasting scars on your tongue. And while all this may sound vaguely illegal or at least highly questionable these days, I’m watching the Apollo landings. It’s the space age, still in the casting shadow of the war – from the second to the cold, Britain is in colour, the summers are long, the winters dark, the future is teasingly close or so tomorrow’s world would have us believe, a future of leisure where labour and graft will be a thing for the automaton age, the authors of science fiction warn us otherwise. And while this moment occurs a newly chipped platter by theFreqDesign plays to simultaneously guide us as though upon some time travelling device, their orbital opine ‘’in the lab’ unlocks for a brief moment lost and forgotten memories, smells and sensations, its delicate kosmiche ebb and flow drifts and purrs with an oceanic air, dainty, demurred and decidedly out of time, space and dimension, it is the sound of yesterday still sounding like tomorrow. It is available soon in limited quantities courtesy of polytechnic youth. It is quite perfect.
Right off David Bowie at your peril. There we were commiserating about his relative fall from our listening affections in recent years, yes we are acutely aware that he’s quietly withdrawn from the public eye since his heart scare in 2004, but whilst casting an eye over Fruit de Mer’s subscribers freebie – a covers homage to Bowie entitled ‘fashion’ – we had noted that the label had deliberately drawn time on anything after ‘Scary Monsters’ therefore, though not exactly stating such in print, it suggested or more so, hinted, that anything post ‘80 had found him easing off the creative foot pedal and following ‘fashion’ rather than instinct, and while that decade was pretty much redundant of anything approaching Bowie’s one time chameleonic prowess the 90’s hinted in such low returns that you could have bundled up all the output and still struggled to fathom an album worthy of brandishing the Bowie brand name. And while ‘reality’ provided a noteworthy end to the decline it still fell woeful in the shade burdened not only by a legacy of what once was and what might yet be, but also had to consider talking to a pop generation for whom the name Bowie was a relic, a thing from the past, of consequence no more. Even ‘the next day’ once the shock had settled, its arrival heralded by no publicity, no fanfare or hoo-hah, removed of its wrapping, it was a safe album, but then when you have Bowie, do you really want safe. Three years on, the rumour mill has been at full tilt with musings, misinformation and a fair degree of Bowie mania at the news of a new full length entitled ‘blackstar’ the first fruits of which the title track has been slipped out to cause feverish chattering among the underground cognoscenti. At ten minutes in length, it goes without saying that ‘blackstar’ will fall foul of the daytime chart geared media outlets. Tick box. It goes against the usual verse chorus verse ethos, there are no identifiable hooks, rather than a song for songs sake, an overture, an oddly disjointed opera, a prayer, a funereal telling. Tick box. As insider reports have suggested – it is more avant-garde in content, design and delivery. Tick box. It is a sore thumb. Tick box. The mere fact it is a sore thumb provides a welcoming raising of the eyebrow, for far too long, Bowie’s creative output has always sounded and looked good on paper, but somewhere from the drawing board to the execution, there’s been a feeling of distraction and boredom muddying the process, almost as though once out and on paper that somehow the enthusiasm has peaked and that his creative eye and mind are fast onto the next page / idea. If you were to draw together the more ethereal, more crooked and more unusual aspects of Bowie’s catalogue from ‘tonight’ onwards and somehow forge them into a free-flowing without borders and boundaries tapestry, ‘blackstar’ would be a fairly close approximation of what would emerge and finds Bowie at the centre of a familiar yet unfamiliar sonic space, a musical palette both airy and repeatedly dreamily shedding its skin; there’s no rooting floor here for ‘blackstar’ emerges like a drifting exotic mistral or a mirage of differing colours and musical voices, a whisper from both the past and from the future all encompassed in a story board suite of disparate acts and scenes impacted upon a grandly panoramic ambient base flipped and frazzled by the disjointed flicker of glitching beats, ‘blackstar’ is beautifully graced in a tripping progressive psychedelic sheen woozily caressed in mystic folk mantras and arabesque snake charms (‘kashmir’ anyone), amid the dream weaved crafting, Bowie assumes the role of a preacher / a mystic / a seer , the mood both dark and claustrophobic is awash in symbolism all at once drawn from religion, legend and mythology, here death and decay forge opposing battle alliances against rebirth and salvation, in truth there are enough cul de sacs and blind alleys here to keep the most avid Bowie enthusiast knee deep in reference books desperate to link the cryptic crumbs – so for a starter for ten – the astronaut at the beginning – is that Major Tom? Best moment for us though comes at 4.42 where a moment of lucidity suddenly opens up and through the narrowing kaleidoscopic fracture the clock stops turns back and for a brief passing spell we are back through the mists of time 40 years and counting.
First of a handful of castles in space releases heading the way of in tune record emporiums shortly which you’ll find liberally peppered across the musings somewhere or other, the first of which is a rather dandy four track EP from Antoni Maiovvi who I must admit to being embarrassed in saying we’ve never encountered on our travels thus far, yet has been cornering something of an acclaimed niche on the dark disco Giallo scene for a number of years now. Nothing dark about opening salvo ‘British summer’ – incidentally the lead track from his ‘seasons in hell’ EP – a gloriously perky Balearic orbital rummaging through lost 70’s summer photo albums whilst replaying themes of the day, a kind of proto trance KLF re-imagining ‘the hustle’ through sangria sizzled eyes and setting the chill factor dials to maximum effect, acutely addictive to the point where I’m fairly certain the blighter has a legal requirement to come pre-packed with jabs and don’t get me started on those seductive oceanic sky sirens – bliss. That said for our money and for what it’s worth our favourite moment of listening from the offered teaser selection is ‘missing’ which by our reckoning provides an ostensibly darker and more seductively sophisticated persona to the Maiovvi palette upon which to a noir tipped down tempo trimming lurks FortDax c. ‘a Beverley Mythic’ stalking ‘the box’ era Orbital, need I say more. Available as a 300 only 7 inch gatefold set via http://www.castlesinspace.com
I think I may have died and gone to somewhere beyond and for just a brief passing moment heard the sound of heaven. Its name is ‘the Widowed Earth’ its author Dos Floris – better known to kith n’ kin as Florence Donovan. A celestial ghost light poised, measured, majestic and stately, traced in glacial textures softly melting to reveal an ethereal gracefulness that sounds like the call at the end of life’s long path, a softly drifting siren whisper all at once tragic, tearful and touching and surrendered in a hymnal haloing and a forlorn symphonic elegance, quite something else. https://soundcloud.com/dosfloris/09-the-widowed-earth?utm_source=soundcloud&utm_campaign=share&utm_medium=facebook
More weirdly wonky ear gear found loitering in the bandcamp attic, this is from Bristol based duo Polly and Jac who collectively go under the name the twelve hour foundation – obvious firm fans of the ghost box imprint and all things BBC Radiophonics though it ought to be said that we here reckon they must have hoodwinked Richard O’Sullivan’s synth set because there’s a kooky little sonic soufflé being cooked up from out of ‘Robin’s Nest’ off cuts which before you all start thinking is a criticism is quite delightfully daft, dinky and attractive in a playful 70’s child TV type way. Not least is this the case than on the chirpily squelchy doodles that decorate the flock wallpapered living abode of ‘macaroni cheese’ which in truth sounds like an escapee of ‘’vision on’. Funkier in presentation and veering up a path that leads out to midwich youth club and the belbury poly ‘connective tissue’ is possessed of a curiously cute lounge looseness leaving ‘fun with origami’ to explore at its leisure the forgotten worlds of testcard tunes and the zany sounds of BBC2’s schools programme schedules. http://thetwelvehourfoundation.bandcamp.com/album/macaroni-cheese
Musical interlude…..found sounds….7
It was upon musing over a new Creation box set pencilled for January end release entitled ‘Still in a dream’ that our thoughts wandered with affectionate fondness to recall this little beauty from 1988, a bliss kissed psych dream pill that even when listening to now all these years on, still sends an adoring shiver down the spine, the epitome of shades adorned cool by our reckoning…..oh its Ultra Vivid Scene with ‘mercy seat’…..
As to that aforementioned Creation box set – a mammoth 5 disc dream pop soiree featuring an assortment of floppy fringe pedal effects loving mind expanding nu psych protégés, an assembling stellar cast of kaleidoscopic protagonists including usual suspects my bloody valentine, Cocteau twins, spacemen 3, ride, slowdive, the telescopes, bang bang machine…..the list is endless, 87 tracks all shoehorned into senses evaporating oblivion – the set entitled ‘still in a dream – a story of shoegaze’ is due to lock into orbit sometime January end……. http://www.creation-records.com/still-in-a-dream-a-story-of-shoegaze-boxset-to-be-released/
from the set – so much to choose from – but we were always quite fond of these dreamy darlings…..jane from occupied europe’s ‘ocean run dry’….
Staying with all things old school shoegaze / noise pop and underground, Snub TV was during its brief tenure a regular fixture on our TV screen, I’m fairly certain we still have VHS cassettes of the shows lurking about the gaff somewhere. The makers prided themselves on being at the cusp of cutting edge sounds giving many aspiring bands their first exposure on national TV whilst being savvy enough to blend the styles though obviously honing in on anything featuring sparked out guitars….this is their end of season recap of the best that 1989 had to offer and comes heavily swooned in the early happenings of the Manchester scene of the day……
Arriving in the post sack earlier this week the latest newly chipped polytechnic youth platter from middes of whom we still have no information. Anyhow mentioned the lead cuts – the wonderfully sparse and minimalist sounding ‘space sorry’ a little while back commenting on its old school some bizarre vibe and sonic kinship to the Normal’s ‘warm leatherette’. Happy to report that the flip cut is no slouch either in the minimal is maximal stakes for ‘delores is’ is a ghostly sonic relic from age where electronic sound mediums where dripped in a bleak ice cold futurism whose understanding or at least visions of tomorrow where inspired and fed by the works of Ballard, Kneale and Bradbury – see Human League – mark one of course – and orchestral manoeuvres in the dark, and very much channels the isolationist grey groove of a post Ultravox John Foxx albeit gathered together in the bijou confines of a potting shed home electronics craft class with members of Suicide and Cabaret Voltaire. Arrives in a numbered edition of 77 and all pressed on label-less jukebox vinyl replete with a freebie glow in the dark spider. Next up for polytechnic youth a clear wax 5 inch featuring thefreqdesign…..see elsewhere for fond commentary.
Ninth instalment of unexplained sounds extensive mapping of strange sounds from across the globe promises to be a special gathering indeed. This edition focuses its attentions on the German underground scene, a nation to which the term electronic experimentalism has become synonymous, the birthplace to a scene fully fluent and forward thinking in the pushing of the sonic envelope. As said ‘German experimental underground 015 survey’ is a very special treat given it features guest appearances by both Whitehouse and Maurizio Bianchi both found here operating in collaborative guises with Zeitkratzer and Pharmakustic respectively. Alas only two tracks on the teaser turntable Wolfgang Kirchheim and Hans Castrup, the former serving up ‘die sache vor 16 jahren’ – a seriously out there weird and wiring slice of chilled isolationist detachment, a truly eerie ghost in the machine tripping in the unseen darkening personas of Cluster, Kraftwerk et al by way of the application of modulating tempos, circuitry manipulations, dronal frequencies and vocal tremors – all strangely playfully sinister if you ask me. As to Hans Castrup, ‘caged’ is a more glassy affair, bowed dream like symphonic flurries fired upon by the occasional doom dread blasts of industrial skree, a nightmarish disorientating collage disfigured and blurred by a darkening foretelling – a serious behind the sofa sonic experience. http://unexplainedsoundsgroup.bandcamp.com/album/german-experimental-underground-015-survey
So annoyed with myself for losing the press info on this, still at least we managed to unearth the sound links despite the best endeavours of a rather pitiful google chrome which appears to have taken to closing itself down when more than five tabs are open and removing said tabs from your history, I don’t know between you, the laughable BT broadband and the regularly missing in action wordpress – you are all making my online experience about as pleasant as a jab in the eye with a sharp pointy object. Enough of the grumbles and swiftly onto gorgeous things – like say – Hawk who as it happens have a record approaching turntable space sometime February via the Veta imprint entitled ‘once told’. A frankly stunning head turner shrouded in the becoming simmering of emotional storm clouds amid which it seductively takes flight dreamily glazed amid a gorgeously alluring shadow lined yearn daubed in progressive pastorals scarred by the occasioning of locked grooved ravaging big bearded riffs which for a moment part and subside to the divine intervention of an ethereally graceful passage wherein to shimmer of purring electronic ripples there’s heralds a breathlessly sweet moment to die for as the vocals drop to curtsy at the 2.46 mark – an instant swoon factor spoiler alert. https://soundcloud.com/hawk_official/once-told
Musical interlude…..found sounds…..8…..’L A Rain’
First heard this smouldering its way out of a late night Peel broadcast one bleak dreary night in early 1985, at the time I thought it was the coolest thing ever to be pressed on wax, I still do, its fatality; its wasted aura and its soft psych burn a homage to the Velvets – a sonic black sun….by Rose of Avalanche……enough said.
Just ahead of an imminent box set release entitled ‘the island years’ which gathers together such lost classics as ‘indiscreet’ and ‘kimono my house’ as well as a re-tooled version of their ’79 ‘best of’ collection impishly revised as the ‘rest of’, mercurial misfits Sparks have unveiled their skewed and comically indifferent ode to the festive season ‘Christmas without prayer’. This being the Mael’s one thing is for certain Sparks don’t quite follow the obligatory tinsel tied good cheer frivolity filled script, instead what comes is a deliciously playful outside in the cold looking in – and thankfully happy for it – dismantling of the traditionalist mores and rituals of this consumerism hijacked occasion all trimmed across a trademark mini musical that with frosted fleet of foot sighs with exasperation across a sepia glowed ghosting of big screen monochrome Hollywood visitations, moments of jauntily sun sparked Van Dyke Parks styled lounge lilts all topped off with a rousing gospel spray. Does it for us. Incidentally its out via lil’ Beethoven early December.
Are you sure we’ve never featured Wolf Alice in the pages before. I swear we have but the stats reveal and tell us otherwise. Anyhow whatever the case, this little lovely comes pulled from their Mercury nominated debut full length ‘my love is cool’, ‘freazy’ lifted as a new single is an attractively lightly lilted and summery little darling peppered in lulling kaleidoscopic breezes all kissed with the kind of softly warmth hued carefree head in the clouds daintiness that aside beaming sparks of sun kissed floral bouquets into your listening space also seems oddly out of step for these below zero rain draped chilling seasons.
Again no information on these dream popping darlings except to say that this comes pulled from a forthcoming debut EP via hand in hive due early next year, the title track no less entitled ‘dark matter’ – this is Wyldest who by rights ought to be on the radar of every self respecting floppy fringe shoegazey loving enthusiast. Oozed with the delicate decoration of sultry sea breezed calypso chiming riff opines, this shy eyed love note enchants and endears in equal measure dreamily ascending to some unseen peaking point breathlessly whispered to a deeply alluring and yearning euphoric hush which once reached finds it picking up the pace and shedding its sonic skin to craft a stratospheric mosaic courtesy of some noodling post rockist twanging tastiness. Adored. Any questions at the back….
much love in the Sunday Experience sound shed for this ‘un. From the Monikers who hail from Adelaide who’ve been together some two years and in that time meticulously forging a reputation as one of Australia’s leading underground lights following the release of two acclaimed EP’s. now comes ‘friends like these’ due shortly via a&r records, a sub four minute slice of roving rock-a-hula that’s sure to pick up fond ears and kudos by the hatful as it teeters, toys and tingles to an acutely addictive old school pub rock dialect that imagines a studio after hours singing and drinking soiree featuring various members of the Faces, Cockney Rebel and Dr Feelgood – indeed – yep that good.
No prizes for guessing rightly that we were initially attracted to this blighter on title alone – ‘the attack of the granny trannies’ – I mean be honest deserving of a brief at least don’t you think. Anyhow this feral slab of trash grind gore is the work of Wichita residing bad dudes Iron Octomoms who ruefully rampage through a squalid tide of batcave decadence with such bare arsed blazoned brutality the sonic shards near peel the first layer of your face skin. However as much as we love the trashy thrashy b-movie gnarled gouges scarring these grooves we must admit to being somewhat found of the sets parting epitaph – for Gamorrah II’ is a frenzied dead headed beauty that takes its source inspiration from Death Cult’s immortal self titled EP – the mood pierced by the same scowling desert dry howls but here blooded and picked at by a seriously stoned out Alien Sex Fiend with the festering cauldron of sonic mysticism presided over by a spell charming Andi Sex Gang, all in all very much something that sounds like a lost artefact from a forgotten Situation 2 release schedule. Incidentally its out via the this ain’t heaven recording concern imprint.
I’m suspecting it’s the same lot. Has it really been nearly two years since we first stumbled across Hypnotized and then quickly proceeded to forgot where exactly we’d left them. ‘Ghost Walk’ was the name of their last visitation to these pages, utterly adored at the time. We could happily kick ourselves stupid for tuning out since then for an eternity or at least until the blighters saw fit to pass our way with a new cut, which as it happens they have. ‘Daphne’ is a curiously lulling sonic dream machine, an orbiting celestial carousel that one suspects might find a worthy kinship with Palace of Swords given that both appear to plot a similar tuneful trajectory daubed in mind expanding immersive kaleidoscopia, must admit we are quite taken by the oceanic lilt of this honey with its lunar siren calls and is that the subtle kiss of a ‘let’s go to bed’ era Cure morphing as were into ‘the seduction’ era Danse Society woozily astral gazing amid the lysergic strobes.
found this little honey sneaking in the spam folder of our face book messages, which was a bit of a surprise for us because asides us never being aware we had a spam box this might have ended up being missed. Clipped in an aching introspection and somewhat head bowed and tear stained, new single from French combo Gliese and Kepler entitled ‘colors in euphoria’ tugs desperately on the heartstrings draping your ear space in the fading memories of summers past, its slow soft opine delicately rubbed in sepia shimmers and the forlorn crush of regret comes attractively moored upon lazy eyed hazily glazed honeyed tones that extol a trippy glam psych spell craft swirled in echoing west coast after burns which had us much minded of a youthfully vulnerable Doleful Lions .utterly dreamy stuff.
Discovered this bad boy sharing groove space with the aforementioned gliese and kepler whilst lurking on a playlist posted by psychgazer. ripped from a recently released full length via munster records entitled ‘sonic shaped life’ this is the Japanese Girl with ‘you should have switches’ – a hypno-weaving twang-tronic keys adorned primitive 60’s garage grooved smoker that’s so cool it’ll have most veering close into its ear space swooning in the aisles mesmerised by its ray gun reverbs, reference wise imagine a super chilled Brix in situ Fall in a headlock with Shadowy men from a shadowy planet.
Staying with munster a little while longer, seems the blighters have been knocking out dandified platters a plenty as part of their singles club which too date has seen them sneak out searing 7 inch salvos of ear gear from the likes of the aforementioned Japanese girl, sic kidz, alex Chilton, kiki d’aki and these bad ass dudes the damn times whose ‘don’t like people’ is the latest off the pressing plant production line – a gloriously raw take no prisoners nor nonsense slab of backside kicking delinquent rock-a-hula mayhem which aside being untamed and wildly feral much like those much missed sonic bad boys that used to fly out of the mighty estrus imprint, is by our reckoning liable to make your earlobes smart.
You might have to bear with us while we seek out permissions to host the sound links, but we’ve literally been dropped a trio of cuts from the polytechnic youth family, one is their next planned single – and not as previously advertised by the freqdesign but something curiously kooky all framed in a proto primitive house / techno vibe from Diane Cools and the Distortion. First up though a demo by Circle Squares of whom there’s a tad bit of tight lipped hush hush about. The cut in question though, entitled ‘what is this is’ is a bit of a dandy which on first listening had us fondly imagining Georgio Moroder awoken to find himself somehow relocated through a fissure in time and lost amid the cold war electroid landscapes of the ghost box hive conscious. Yet add to the sonic equation aural apertures that whisper Dadaist intonations amid ghostly 60’s shadow plays spaced out upon cosmic chorals and something mercurial begins to emerge through minimalist haze tweaking our memory files in sourcing something very much becoming of an early career Birdpen and the Earlies.
and now the blighters are playing with our heads, as previously mentioned the next salvo from polytechnic youth will not be the erroneously advertised theFreqDesign but this devilishly dandy honey from Diane Cools and the Distortion which as we write is currently being primed and pressed in an edition of 99 on 5 inches of wax. ‘klang you’ is a strangely eerie and dislocated affair, its isolationist grooving is cooled in a disorientating detachment the type of ear gear that taps directly into the prevalent glacial vibe coasted upon by New York’s art austere retro electro imprint Weird, tellingly revealing the minimalist electronic scene of the late 70’s cautious peaking over the wall to tap into hybrid dance cultures, utilising disembodied Patti Smith samples, Diane Cools freewheels into the vaguely dislocated circuit bop worlds of Laurie Anderson, Agents, Cabaret Voltaire, aren’t Aeroplanes and Devo, reconstructing sound templates that would later herald the techno / house sound of the 90’s. ‘time is now’ over on the flip is a more straight ahead and playful affair, amid its subtronic shelling are nods to the robotnik sounds once found lurking on releases heading out of such legendary labels as sky and brain, the flame of which these days is admirably kept alive by Bureau B, that said modernist purists much admiring of boards of Canada and plaid will instantly see the dots joining. .
Moiré strange visitations from the netherworld of sound, again via the unexplained sounds imprint this is Vaaristyma – Finnish based duo Janne and Jarko who’ve just released an oddly eerie collection by the name ‘Valivahe’ from which ‘kuollut fotoni’ caught our attention. The longest track on this ten part suite and all said, perhaps its crowning glory and something that ought to cause the radars of those much attuned to the sounds of the Revenant Sea to start tweaking incessantly, for somewhere out there this darkly shrouded leviathanic colossus stirs from the shadows, its echoing opines as old as time, its call sign chill dipped in brooding desolation, its space without end, containment or boundary. Here a mournful majesty unfurls amid the spectral detail of the sparsely set aching arcs, haunting yet hymnal in resonance and very much nodding to the work of Bebe and Louis Baron.
Incoming via the ever dependable Alrealon Musique – who I must admit we’ve strayed from a little in recent times though we’ll be remedying that in the coming weeks – this is forthcoming from John 3:16’. ‘lake of fire’ comes ripped from a planned EP set titled ‘ten thousand times ten thousand angels’ and finds him veering evermore closer into Yellow6 terrains in so much as the application of measured poise, the orchestrating of the very elements and mercurial majesty. An intimately dreamily cinematic colossus sweetly caressed with Guthrie-esque opines and interweaving flotillas of celestial chimes that sumptuously shift from desert dry snaking loops to arcing oceanic lunar lilts in the blink of an eye, a star watching immaculate adored in dream drift dissipates.
We hate end of the year polls – but we’ve been asked to scribble down our ten favourite albums of the year – this being us and us being impish – we could only think of nine off the hoof – so expect bruised egos, noses out of joint – apologies to one and all everything we’ve heard this year has been superb otherwise we wouldn’t waste our time listening to it…..but…..
1, Art of the Memory Palace – this life is but a dream
- the black ryder – the door behind the door
- vukovar – emperor
- jack ellister – tune up your ministers and start the transmissions from pool holes to class o hypergiants
- beautify junkyards – the beast shouted love
- jacco gardner – hypnophobia
- die wilde jagd – die wilde jagd
- fufanu – few more days to go
- the cardiacs – the seaside – indeed not strictly speaking a new release but come on – thirty years on and it still sounds like nothing in record world…..
Many thanks to Kenneth Kovasin, who some of you might recognise better as [owt kri], for sending over sample cuts from a planned forthcoming set ‘pilgrimage’ due imminently on Erototox Decodings imprint. This brace of treats reveal a multi faceted persona at work for ‘static continuum’ arrives as a fire scorched stoned out noise beauty which irrefutably takes its cue from the erstwhile late 80’s New Zealand experimental scene – not least Bruce Russell and a youthful Roy Montgomery it has to be said – with its scuffed desert howled bliss kissed blues scowls echoing of Bill Horist and Flying Saucer Attack casting sublime haloes of death rattled discordance to the proceedings. In marked sharp contrast ‘flight to kailash’ is a more sedately serene affair, a celestial overture bathed in soft euphoric whispers all crushed in genuflecting arcs, ethereal hushes and the radiant cleanse of heavenly effervescent burns. Quite stilled, statuesque and seductive if you ask me. https://soundcloud.com/owtkri/sets/pilgrimage-1
Eyed this on the Norman records incoming list, a new must have cassette heading out from the Baro imprint featuring leading lights of the vapour wave scene HKE and Telepath in a tape sharing face off. HKE featured here serve up the amorphous chill toned ‘from dust’ – a gorgeously demurring dream draped Dadaist slice of ethno dubtronics that sumptuously channels the trip wiring head expanding trance toned mosaics of a youthful Astralasia though here colluding with the invaders of the heart with a sneaky secretive cameo appearance No Ceremony, very woozy and transcendental.
haven’t the faintest idea where these dudes / dude reside / s – we’ve seen variously sightings alluding to Vancouver whilst others hint Sydney, whatever the case we caught this by sheer accident on a sound cloud posting and marvelled how much it reminded us of a very youthful maps and diagrams not to mention freefalling into the kind of lulling electro lullaby posies once upon a time coming cobbled out of the much missed boltfish imprint. Anyhow its by R23X and its called ‘ending 2’ and it’s a gorgeously murmured thawing frost tipped pastoral all spliced with elegiac chorals which unless my ears do deceive ought to be high on the listening radar of those much admiring of ISAN..
something else our ears picked up whilst on a little wander around the internet, now if I’m not much mistaken I’m suspecting that FRCLN spends his time frequenting flea markets picking up abandoned circuitry boards and redundant and unloved keyboards and from the gathered parts assembles banks of sound devices that replicate lost sounds and vibes from a forgotten past. Case in point being two cuts we happened across on a new EP for the Gentle imprint entitled ‘leaving home 1942’ – the first of which ‘stressed’ had us much fondly re-visualising a youthful Vince Clarke in situ Depeche Mode crafting out shadow cloaked eerie electro spirit walkers daubed in austere glacial trimmings oozing sweetly sinister mosaics whilst in sharp contrast the parting ‘later’ is a grandly spectral sortie groomed in a gorgeously hollowed noir sophistication framed with a forlorn frost tipped romance that had us minded of no ceremony. https://gentlerecords.bandcamp.com/album/leaving-home-1942
Musical interlude…..found sounds 9…the Bolshoi…
I’m sure I’ve seen an email somewhere saying these dudes are currently subject to the Arkive repress treatment….more details when we track down the errant missive in question…..this is the immortal ‘Lindy’s Party’ by the criminally underrated the Bolshoi…replete with the swooning ‘hey’ moment at 4.53….it’s the little things in life that seal it for us….
Happened across this as we were turning it in for the night, a new name your price downloadable compilation by Australia’s finest purveyors of elegantly drawn dream pop Hidden Shoals. Entitled ‘long range transmissions’ it features a gathering of talents, some familiar – Antonymes, Markus Mehr, Slow Dancing Society et al along with some not so such as gilded and cheekbone. However what attracted us apart from the obvious as ever high quality seductive ambience tonalities literally peeling from the grooves was a delightful little thing from Elisa Luu entitled ‘chromatic sigh’. A breathlessly beautiful slice of porcelain noir classicism, an all too brief heavenly visitation, the slow shift into focus of the sound of a celestial calling emerging into the open to bathe all in the tingling shower of warming radiance, an out of body astral gliding odyssey which for a moment utterly transfixes its delicately balanced and perfectly poised gaze to fix and fill you with ethereal enchantment. And so to something familiar, regular visitors to these pages will be all too aware of our affection for Chloe March who here with ‘old tree, mon coeur’ doesn’t disappoint in the slightest and into the bargain offers up this sweetly mesmerising rustic ghost light, a fairy dust sprayed dream draped lost in the moment beguiling bouquet that shyly treads in the kind of amorphous star twinkled worlds of Musetta albeit as though aided and abetted by a soiree of siren sighs from a chill tripped Laetita and Mary from Stereolab.
With a new album looming entitled ‘the black sun shining’, Rhys Marsh returns to the fray with an emotionally rupturing teaser herald in the guise of ‘wondering stars’ which finds him channelling the introspective shadow lands of both Scott Walker and Marc Almond. to bleakly majestic effect. A darkly woven fracturing beauty which in the space of 5 obliquely crushed minutes shifts sublimely from the thoughtful examination of ghostly haunts of life’s wrong turns to desperation all the time scalped in opining pulsars of monochromatic electro flat lines that unhook from their morose mooring at 3.00 to erupt, fester and scowl with an unchecked unravelling psychosis. Alas no sound links just yet.
Dudes dressed up as dogs fighting with other dudes dressed as chickens losing out in a bout of one up man ship by a dude in a lion outfit driving a Cadillac, what can it all mean. Well pull up a pew and I’ll tell you. In short the baddest ass shakin groove we’ve had the pleasure of hearing here since Mbongwana Star dropped ‘kala’ earlier this year. This is melt yourself down with ‘dot to dot’ a furiously addictive street savvy bad boy that ought to comes pre packed with anti infectious jabs, a gloriously floor thumping hybrid sound clash that hot wires together a heaving melting pot that takes the basement jaxx as it inspirational source and sets about cooking up a smoking sonic soufflé rippled in woozy trance tones, jazz accents, soft psych shimmies, ethnic rhythms, Marrakesh mosaics, arabesque dialects and the occasional kitchen sink for good measure, so damn tasty that quite frankly you might have to nail your feet to the floor.
One of the many highlights from the recently released debuting full length platter ‘emperor’ by Vukovar via the small bear imprint, this is the quietly majestic ‘regular patrons of the salon kitty’ – a trip wiring locked groove cosmic light show speared upon cutting floor remnants of lost ‘Movement’ era New Order recordings here rescued and rewired by one Stephen Jones found stepping from out his Babybird guise into his Trucker persona, admirers of a young Echoboy will equally swoon…in short bliss.
Staying with small bear a little while longer, I’m fairly certain we are a little light on a dog paper submarine album front which we’ll do our level best to remedy in the coming days. For now here’s a little fried kaleidoscopia in the shape of ‘oxygen’ which I’m pretty sure we mentioned ages ago when some of us had a lot more hair. Anyhow these impish dudes cut up a strange acutely angular and skewed n’ wired lysergic kookiness that much recalls the more wig flipped early entries to the amassed elephant 6 collective catalogue whilst simultaneously irrefutably providing clear evidence of an adoring fondness for all things Beatnik Filmstars.
Emerging out of the admired Tonlab imprint after the silly season, ’young’ the debut full length by Hearts Hearts is set to seduce all especially those among you whose listening worlds tilt upon sounds softly murmured in the low lit glow of delicately demurred glacial electro purrs as ‘hunter limits’ so ably provides evidence of. A slow seductive burn that sits somewhere on the aural firmament between Alt-j and Seeland and from its orbital trajectory issues forth hushed string surrendered star crossed yearns longingly adored to the arresting lilt of lovelorn opines.
Seems as though Fika recordings have already put up the festive tree n’ tinsel and gone all Christmas crackers with the announcements of – so far – two very special seasonal releases of which the sunturns one you’ll find snuggled amid here a little later in the missive. For now though this little gem from Bill Botting and the Two Drink Minimums. ‘it’s not Christmas anymore’ comes deliciously crooned in the seductive lull of opining lap steels all smoked in the warming frosty topped glow of a campfire gathering which amid the honey toned winter-esque harmonies and the countrified cool had us much minded of a mulled wine imbibing studio soiree featuring Kevin Tihista, Rockpile and Moviola. http://shop.fikarecordings.com/album/its-not-christmas-anymore
Two slices of Drape for the asking, in truth we were sent over details of a new Drape video set to accompany a new cut from their recent riot factory full length ‘relax / relapse’ entitled ‘round and round’. Drape who I’m certain we’ve featured previously but for the life of me can we find a citation, indeed not, hail from Norway and craft a most gloriously off kilter weave of tantalisingly tasty amorphous dream draped cosmic pop. Case in point the aforementioned latest salvo ‘round and round’ described by the band as a ‘homage to the 60’s’ is a beautifully set noir mirror ball trimmed in sugar rushes that shimmer effervescently like some lunar docking celestial kiss engaged upon by St Etienne and a ‘dots and loops’ era Stereolab. Better still though is the frankly irresistible ‘my friend the scientist’ – a tripping euphoric dream coat arrested upon hazily glazed vapour waves of star gazey oceanic whispers all succulently moored upon moments of demurred cosmidelic tropicalia – utterly breathtaking.
Musical interlude…..found sounds 10…death cult….
One of my first loves…..morphing out of Southern Death Cult, Death Cult where ahead of the curve blending the sound of the Ants with Morricone’s spaghetti western scores to impact dust ravaged tribal totems beautifully brutalised in savage atmosphere…..this is the seed sowing sound of godspeeed buried in a lost forgotten time….
Musical interlude….found sounds 11….red guitars…
Still sounds the danders 30 years on….the frankly stunning ‘good technology’ debut from red guitars…..absolute bliss out groove…