Currently selling for silly prices on discogs, finally we’ve managed to secure a copy of our own of the third vinyl instalment of ‘the lost tapes record club’ series – though not before discovering that there’s now a Volume 4 kicking around in desperate need of tracking down and given a welcoming home here. So setting aside equal moments of cheer and grumbling, this here limited 250 numbered set – ours is #115 in case you are taking notes – was briefly mentioned here at https://marklosingtoday.wordpress.com/2017/02/27/the-lost-tapes-record-club-ep3/ – a limited vinyl pressing of something that originally appeared on cassette in a strictly limited nature way back in 2013. Alas our copy appears to be a little light with the download coupon, the set featuring 8 tracks is curated by those impish dudes the Clinic. In short a must have addition to any well ordered Radiophonic / Hauntologist collection and i dare say something that ought to go down well with those much admiring of the Wonderful Sound imprint – see the Superimposers et al not least the the playfully envisaged opener ‘Nuclear war’ by urban collector which hints something of a wonderfully woozy laid back lounge vintage. Those of you preferring your sounds a little more cosmically orbital as though on board a celestial carousel might warm to the serenely star flavoured ‘five four’ by Professor Isaac Turton which all said has the kind retro craftmanship much beloved of those Trunk folk and here i’m thinking in particular of Basil Kirchin and Tristram Cary albeit smoked through the lens of the Monsterism island crew. Add in a briefly beautiful dream sequence by Laurie Carroll with ‘hotel’ – very ghost box-y and a ‘stylophone interlude’ built over a driving aafrobeat rhythm and thaat’s side 1 put to bed. Now i’m still sticking with our original assessment of Oscar Boothroyd’s ‘resistance’ in saying that this is a ringer for the Tornadoes ‘telstar’ retuned by a rather snazzy sounding Barry Gray Orchestra into a twangy noir nugget in the style of the phantom surfers and shadowy men on a shadowy planet. The criminally teasingly brief ‘harvest festival interlude’ will, if it doesn’t simply blow you away with its quaintly moonage dream drift-man-ship, might well have you stapling down the repeat button for maximum loved up effect. Somewhere else ‘sniggery wood’ by the mysterious Burrymen Four is the sound of a classic era Tunng in cahoots with Sproatly Smith being rejigged by a clear stoned out on a diet of early 70’s cult film viewing – say ‘psychomania’ and ‘die screaming marianne’ while wrapping up matters on this particular volume is Jellyroll with ‘heartbeat’ hazily high on a simply divine bucolic spraying of ‘cobras’ era Stereolab, le superhomard and beautify junkyards motifs – utterly seductive, slinky and dare we say quite sensual.