Archiv – Singled Out – Missive 39 …..

Archive posting published originally on the losing today site ….. August 2004 …..

Missive 39
Missive 39

‘sounds to make your hi-fi weep with joy too’

Dedicated to Kelly and Mark, always in my waking thoughts and missing you badly.

A fairly hefty missive it has to be said this time around and hopefully from now on in these things are going to be very regular like a fortnight apart, or maybe even a week as was the intended plan all those years back when we writ with quills and had proper ink pots, shame we still work by candle light but then you can’t have everything you want, though we do look forward to the day that the losing today shed gets a roof….a door…a two more walls, now I know it was hip and cool for the Beatles but it has to be said that it’s slightly disconcerting listening to records on the roof especially in the rain.

The hard copy version of the Losing Today magazine is I’m glad to say after all the delays and hiccups finally out and about with the pretty nifty looking Italian version on the streets as we speak at a special introductory price. Inside you’ll find a freebie CD featuring (wait for it): Volcano the Bear, Mice Cars, Decades, 50Hz, Fiel Garvie, Cut, Franklin Delano, Stained Glass Heroes, Blue States, Mashrooms, LWRM, Tellaro and Yuppie Flu an aural feast to guarantee that you know your onions from your, er potatoes. Features on Homesleep records and interviews with among others Fiel Garvie, Mum, Blonde Redhead and Lali Puna plus a stack of album reviews please go to for more information. The US version is currently at the printers and due any day soon featuring all the usual gubbins and another record collection defining CD by some of the best artists currently around the underground scene, further information please check Deadlines for the next issue are tentatively pencilled for the mid September and submissions for the next CD are happily encouraged, please either get in touch with me at or Andrea at

Okay to the singles. Ordinarily the mere mention of the Earlies usually means talk of the hallowed Single of the Missive, while looming on the horizon another regular recipient of the rarely awarded SOTW, Fort Dax, is currently deciding on mixes for a forthcoming release for ‘the fingers all over the pulses’ Static Caravan and putting the finishing touches to his third full length. All we can say is that judging by the ‘rough’ two track CD we have currently hogging the CD player, then everything is looking rosy in the world of Darren Durham with ‘Wolf / Wolf / Wolven’ proving to be his best work to date, review hopefully next missive. Back to this missive though, the welcome return of Anna Kashfi whose single for the much missed Emma’s House a few years ago still sends shivers of delight just thinking about, plus repeat calls calls for the excellent Merchandise, Sweatmaster, Broadway Project, Jens Lekman and the Koreans plus four whopping killer debut releases by the Big Cash Prizes, Ten Foot Nun, the Omegas and the Carolgees, which by rights should all set your hair alight and make your Hi-Fi rattle as though its ass has been bitten by the groove bug.

Album wise the singled out office is currently shaking its bits to the debut long player from the Go! Team. ‘Thunder, lightning, strike’ ain’t officially due until Autumn but it still doesn’t stop us diving headlong into it’s tangy feast of all those moments from the 70’s that you crack on you hate but secretly adore all perfectly distilled into 35 minutes of bouncing hyper active thrills and sporting one of the greatest singles of recent times in ‘Get it together’ that’s really the kids from Double Deckers on summer holiday armed with Curly Wurly’s, Spangles and the Look-In magazine.

Singled Out 39 curtain call:
The Omegas, Ben Christophers, the Koreans, Big Cash Prizes, Loud Devices, the Carolgees, the Earlies, Designer Babies, Wolves (of Greece), Sweatmaster, Mike Summers, Wren, Ten Foot Nun, Jens Lekman, the Vanities, Multiplex, Santo El Diablo, Anna Kashfi, Monkey, Penny Red, Merchandise, the Legends and a new six track double pack from Fierce Panda featuring Razorlight, Ludes, the Rakes, S.Rock Levinson, the Souls and house favourites the Rocks.

Nuff chat, the records…….

Wolves! (of Greece) ‘For the Greater Good’ (Gringo). Opening this particular missive in the unruly schizophrenic company of Nottingham’s Wolves! (of Greece) for a spot of earwax shedding on this their debut outing consisting of seven tracks (though looking at the groove breaks seems like five, either way its hard to tell for sure) spread invitingly across one side of 10-inch plastic. Early Birthday Party / Boys Next Door comparisons aside (although check out the chaotic skull fucking of ‘Moving beyond maintenence’ which combines the menace of those early scary Big Black records and the primal savagery found lurking at points on ‘Junkyard’), the Wolves certainly make a racket of that there’s no question, and any way would you dare. Featuring ex members of such notables as Bob Tilton, the X Rays and the splendidly named I am Spartacus and in between extra curricula activities as erstwhile members of Savoy Grand (are they still going?), Great Bear, Lords and Last of the real hardmen (a name that’s asking for trouble methinks), Wolves make the sound of hell in your very own living room, a corrosive mix of aural hijinks and totally wired time signatures. Fraught with the kind of tension that can only come from being at the end of your tether, Wolves seer and soar viciously. The calamitous ‘I, Linedancer’ (we’d like to see you try) is something so brutal that we for one would like to see it implemented as a fully-fledged Olympic event. A truly bastardised mother of a schizoid howler. Best cut of the set though is the satanic ‘Howl!’, a deliriously spastic take on a prog rock jam only done at 100mph with a meat cleaver held tightly to its throat, harrowing stuff, so good it brings tears to the eyes, blood to the ears, guaranteed to deliver the mother of all migraines and give your hi-fi a run for it’s money. Without doubt excruciatingly essential. Joint deputy single of the missive.

Designer Babies ‘Baghdad Boogie’ (Gringo). And we kind of wonder how Gringo records treat their bands, sleep deprivation and diet of razor blades perhaps, because there’s no doubt there’s something undeniably cruel and primitive going on. If the Wolves are a little to telling on the palette then there’s no figuring what atrocities this two track anti-pop 7” will do to your nervous system. Blood thirsty stuff, a haemorrhage waiting to happen, this just has corrupt stamped all over it. If your idea of sonic dismemberment lay with Melt Banana then think again, while they may lack the noise factoring of their label mates their lack of due care or attention towards any notion of structure has to be applauded, if they were Japanese let’s face it certain elements of the media would be shitting bricks to declare them as saviours. ‘Baghdad Boogie’ is pure psychosis, deranged, ad hoc and deliberately unfriendly. Think the boot boy clowning mentality of the Test Tube Babies and the Toy Dolls, then add (sparingly) a smidgeon of the Happy Flowers an unholy amount of Japanese noise core wind them up as tautly as possible and let them run riot for 6 minutes to create all manner of carnage in the very best tradition of an evil take on Ed, Edd and Eddy. Kids you have been warned. Things get slightly more disconcerting on the flip. ‘R.Mutt’ can be sort of viewed as the musical version of the Reduced Shakespeare Company where, for those not readily acquainted, the bearded Bard one’s entire work is reduced to something like 10 minutes. Likewise ‘R.Mutt’ is a demonic and often furious race through lunacy, spiritualism, gothism, medievalism, music hall and that’s just in the first minute. Only kidding, the trials and tribulations of the Rainbow King and the Rainbow Queen who we somehow think won’t be appearing on the big screen near you just yet or for that matter popping into the local for a quick sherry or two and a friendly game of snap. Approach with due care, thoroughly recommended for those with troublesome neighbours.

The Carolgees ‘Neon’ (Demo). Another band from Nottingham, yet unlike fellow natives Wolves (of Greece) and Designer Babies this lot seem content to plug into the currency of pop and milk for its worth. Now I’ll admit to getting a fair few demo releases and I’d have to say that either I’m fortunate in not getting the dodgy ones or else there’s a simmering groundswell of talent that indicates the underground scene is as healthy as its ever been, just a shame that most of it never makes it out of the bedroom / garages and further a field, pop radio you break my heart. Case in point is this three-track gem from the Carolgees who are the self-appointed electro-clash indie pop heroes. In the hands of many this’d smack highly of arrogance and self-delusion, yet the evidence is here to be seen, a scorching trio of pop mastery that tugs at every conceivable emotion. Recently found supporting house favourites Girlinky, the only flaw to the Carolgees and impending beckoning success that we can see is the name. Presumably named after that famous anti comedian, he of the one gag routine (only joking there was after all Jimmy Krankie) Bob Carolgees a man of whom it has to be said made Saturday morning children’s TV such a painful thing that most wished school was a six day extravaganza, the bitter pill only dulled by the sight of Sally James. The sacrifices we made when we were young. The Carolgees are a five piece that could just be the much needed jab in the arm of heart racing crystalline pop into a genre that’s so often found to be dour, a celebratory mix of towering 80’s collages, shameless thrills, infectious melodies, hooks you’d sell your soul for all wrapped up and bathed in the glow of a radiant synthesiser wall of sound. ‘Neon’ is a euphoric sugar rush into pop heaven, all at once bruised and bombastic, tearful and tempestuous, a sub 5 minute roller coaster ride to make you simultaneously cry and smile while all the time subtly clubbing you into submission with its sheer force of will, one of those cuts that forces you to press the replay button and pinch yourself to make sure your not dreaming. The storming ‘No-recover’ blends icy atmospherics, new wave power pop hooks with a strangely alluring soft rock backbone and as daft as it may seem sounds not unlike a fighting for their lives Manics. When all the dust is settled they still find time to lay to waste any residual vestiges of emotion with the epic ‘Increasingly so’ offering heartbreak in three simple steps: the lulling tones of a musical box melancholically sounds, soon to melt into the chorus of chiming guitars that hang ominously delicately undoing your defences mutating without mercy into a flotilla of shoe gaze showers. Game over. Nottingham, it seems, is the only place to be right now. Joint deputy single of the missive.

The Legends ‘Call it ours’ (Labrador). One of the best tracks from the Scandinavian nine pieces current debut long player ‘Up against the Legends’. ‘Call it ours’ with its instant radio friendly pop appeal, swaggering riffs and slinky mid 80’s / C-86 day-glo chassis is as near perfect an infectious buzzing jangle you’ll hear all summer, JMC slugging it out with the more fuzzy chime happy brigade of the Sarah label roster, teasingly brief but so tantalisingly potent you’ll beg for more. Backed by three tracks, one of which ’Against Time’ is really the lead cut with its chord sequences subtly re-arranged, while ‘Change’ dips its toes into the same misty waters as trod by the Pale Saints to incorporate a dreamy slice of harmonica haunted folk bliss. Pick of the lot though is ‘The Ballad of the Band’ where smouldering shadowy 60’s Spector-esque psyche back drops collide gracefully with cascading early 90’s shoe gaze, early Boo Radleys fused with even earlier Rose of Avalanche anyone and cute with it.

The Vanities ‘Buzz’ EP (Star Asylum). Another of those must have records I’m afraid. Cardiff based three piece the Vanities had the dubious honour of having their debut outing ‘Space Tourist’ produced by non other than Tony Hadley of Spandau Ballet fame. Apparently so taken was he by their demo that he switched sides around the mixing desk for his first taste of control twiddling. So without any further hints you can guess that this is more 80’s revivalism choking on the leash, and you wouldn’t be disappointed. ‘Buzz’ features four tracks that we are inclined to admit grow on you like moss and has the unnerving ability of getting under your skin and mating immediately with all the bits of your body that grind and groove. Imagine a darker Duran Duran with a more edgy personality as opposed to the sugary pop boy band prototype as was delivering a more subliminal though sleazy melodic matrix, lying somewhere in that frosty void between the excellent Stained Glass Heroes, the Feint and the Koreans, the Vanities nibble away at the shadowy corners of early 80’s electro pop, those questioning their credentials would do well to tune in immediately to ‘Dark Satellite’ where Brum’s favourite sons Le Bon and Co go to head to head with Devoto’s Magazine replete with shock treatment darting riffs and a down ‘n’ dirty throb throughout. Elsewhere ‘A brand new dawn’ lip-gloss in hand waltz’s closely in spirit to Marc Almond’s ‘Tears runs rings’ dressed with delicious harpsichord like elegance while shimmering with the same aloof sophistication of Ure era Ultravox. ‘Buzz’ on the other will snare the most casual of the pop crowd, snaking riffs and a groove that’ll drive you to distraction imagine a watered down soft focused Guns ‘n’ Roses doing new romantic / glam crossovers being fronted by Martin Fry. Best of the set the traumatic ‘Pneumatic Blue’, Baccarach meets Barry, a slow unfurling stinger with Bond-esque aspirations and a world-weary heart to match.

The Koreans ‘Still strung out’ (Storm). And did we just mention the Koreans, my these musings are getting seamless. Literally hot of the presses is this new four track EP from London’s finest foursome, something of a taster for their imminent self-titled debut long player. The Koreans plug into that whole machine / android punk rock genre with such alarming aplomb, their sound ranges anything from upbeat locked down hypnotic grooves (check out the clockwork throb of the electrifying title cut ‘Still strung out’) to charged atmospheric blip pop (especially on the fuzzed out tripping icicle pop dynamics of ‘Too tired’), their nearest allies the early stripped down dark electro of Depeche Mode or the tense romanticism of Duran Duran c. ‘Sing blue silver’. Without doubt the two tracks that’ll be ignored from this set by most happen to be their best to date. The moodily absorbing ‘Moondust Silver’ fizzles and pops blissfully lost in its own dizzying patterns, ambling rustic space folk that strangely enough sounds at times like the Beatles had they of course decided to enlist atmospheric beats and indulged in enough mind bending substances so as to jettison the whole Magical Mystery Tour to the far flung recesses of the cosmos. Dozing lullabies for robots is what the closing ‘What’s going down’ offers, stumbling and stuttering ominously on its own lazily spun web seemingly to bloated to be arsed to come out to play and it has to be said not a million miles in terms of spirit from the more magnificently inert moments found on the Cure’s ‘Head on the Door’ and ‘Disintegration’ albums, good company indeed. Essential in case you were thinking of asking.

Mike Summers and the Doons ‘King of Tomorrow’ (Backwater). And we really do feel obliged to doff our caps to Ipswich’s Backwater Records with their no genre specific attitude. This little cottage industry has in the last few months unearthed the timid Daniel Johnston like Jamie Clements debut ‘Sleep Creases’ which if you haven’t bought by now then shame on you and may it rain long and hard upon your house. Step a little further back for the awesome debut from the Future Kings of England a magnificent feast of prog / stoner / psychedelic overlaps that frankly blew out off the water the usual names associated and regarded highly in the same sonic work space. Latest addition to the Backwater stable is the Suffolk based musician Mike Summers and his more than able backing crew the Doons. Those expecting more of the above, think again, those darn critters at Backwater have gone and switched the tables again. Mr Summers is a traditionalist, and a traditionalist of some note, this dinky 4 track debut is the kind of release that would easily sneak into the Spit ‘n’ Polish roster without so much as a grumble. Featuring mandolins, ukuleles and accordions, in the space of fourteen minutes duration they take you by the hand to another time of endless summers and forever blue skies, just check out the gorgeous ‘Open Roads’ a mixture of evensong porch like serenity and hood down driving pastoral pop spliced perfectly by the ghostly sound of the accordion breezing in the background. Don’t be fooled into thinking this release is purely out of bounds for a pop market, ‘King of Tomorrow’ with its lolloping trombone and jaunty ukulele is made of the kind of stuff that the Beatles initially cut their teeth to and armed with its valve radios renascence and music hall glitz isn’t a million miles from Space’s ‘Money’ at least in spirit if not in design. ‘Blue Memories’ with its trembling timbre points distinctly to late 50’s soft pop yet belies a resonantly eerie cast that could easily find itself on a David Lynch soundtrack providing a mix of lonesome folk that to these ears summons the heart ache of Roy Orbison and the gentleness of the Everly Brothers and with that remarkably reminiscent of Paul Burch’s ‘Blue Notes’ album. The haunting closing cut ‘Long black train (Going Down)’ takes its subtle cue from ‘Amazing Grace’ with the ghosts of Perkins and Cash sitting in the shadows the only thing lacking is a symphonic crescendo to give it that epic appeal it so eagerly deserves.

The Swansea Mass ‘Silver Venus’ (Loud Devices). Yum, yum. Debut two-track release for both Chicago label Loud Devices and quartet Swansea Mass. Former members of Salome, the Fucking Werewolves (a great band name if ever there was one) and the Abandoned Silos, two girls / two boys, guitar, bass, drums and another guitar. Anything else you need know? Of course there is. This release has two things going for it. Firstly its sleeve art was done by Steve Krakow he of The Galactic Zoo Dossier (which for years with increasing annoyance on my part has managed to elude our radar) and secondly it’s a mighty fine release that most record collections would be honoured to usher into their loving arms. ‘Silver Venus’ is the best thing we’ve heard since the Butterflies of Love’s ‘Rob a bank’, melodies so quiet, fragile and meek that they are almost invisible but gorgeous in that self same way that the soft psychedelic atmospherics of the Verve’s ‘One way to go’ on the flip of their debut was. Slow burn shoe gaze, cascading effects laden guitars that just surround the air space to smother you with an aching but nonetheless consuming sense of affection, throw in the obvious reference pointers to the much missed Galaxie 500 and you have something of happening lazily waiting to happen. Flip over for ‘Chessy’, Velvet Underground by any other name and what a name to have or for that matter to be compared to. This is the real McCoy not some half arsed attempt to band wagon jump a band wagon that left the station many moons ago. A gritty though it has to be said casual affair of sneering fuck you attitude laced with a proto new wave / no wave edge that ambles ever so closely from the Factory to CBGB’s c.1974 / 75. Buy on sight or be forever ridiculed by cooler peers.

Various Artists ‘On the Buzzes’ (Fierce Panda). Another of those limited must have double 7” packs from the ever industrious Fierce Panda featuring six vital cuts from some of the most rocking dudes currently to be found shaking their tail feathers down your local independent record emporium. Kicking things off in blistering style to the sounds of current darlings of the masses, Razorlight. With an album kicking about somewhere out there, not that we’ve heard it, a couple of singles is what we get and then bang ‘hello stardom, goodbye losing today’. Phew! Rock ‘n’ roll, pants if you ask me. Hell we won’t hold it against the skinny dudes, exclusive alternate take of ‘the Dagger Song’ ensures that for at least three minutes of your day things will get superbly mental. Neat or what? Next up on the chopping block London based five piece the Ludes. Is there a garage thing going on? Clash wannabe’s who in their ranks have at least two members sporting fourth generation Faces hairdos. The Ludes come armed with a big, big bag of tunes, one of which ‘She was just a girl’ charges ominously to mess with your neat haircuts and have you acting deliriously daft on the dance floor, expect an album for their major label paymasters early next year. Screwball new wave pop at its finest courtesy of the ridiculously infectious brand of angular riffs, impromptu schizoid charges and howling sing a long chorus lines that lies in wait on ‘Something clicked and I fell off the edge’ by the Rakes. A kind of fist fight of eccentricity between a seriously wired Talking Heads and an impish Devo, anything else you need to know, oh yeah their from East London, a quartet, one single firmly tucked under their belts for Trash Aesthetic (the previous home of those other art rocking scallywags the Bloc Party) and another single due, like any day (we think…research just ain’t what it used to be!), so with that two more reasonable excuses to visit the record shack for both you and me. What are you waiting for? House favourites the Rocks kick in with ‘Celeste’ a scuzzy, down and dirty take on the New York Dolls and the Heartbreakers, three singles already out and about chinning the opposition this being one of them, perhaps their most blatant at sounding pop, ear candy hooks and harmonies yet there’s still no getting away from the fact that they are a sleazy as a late 70’s Soho strip joint on a rainy day with it’s nawks out for all to see. Top of the class book token award goes to the demonic S Rock Levinson whose ‘Spitting in Italy’ is a rogue-ish bully boy, post hardcore punk rock or so it seems, this baby kinda leaps from the Hi-Fi and grabs you by the throat and swings you around the room until your beg undying love for it. Rounding up the pack and admirably so if we say so ourselves, the Souls, who sound not unlike another Fierce Panda species of yore, the Parkinsons. The Souls have a certain Richard Digance in the fold, surely not THE Richard Digance the British comedian / folk singer (BBC’s words not mine), you should be so unlucky. Think Bad Manners slammed through the blender with the Ruts with the capricious sprinkling of zest, attitude and a whole heap of wicked fun.

Merchandise ‘Swallowing Curses’ (Cityscape). For those who missed it the first time around, us included, another chance to sample the delights of Bolton’s finest duo Merchandise’s earlier output with this re-release of 2002’s ‘Swallowing Curses’. Already confirmed as Singled Out house favourites following their glorious ‘Beautiful morning for a bad day’ single and this years charmingly addictive second long player ‘Lo-tech solutions to Hi-tech Problems’ which we in our humbled opinion thoroughly recommend you withdraw now to your local caring and sharing record shed to purchase. ‘Swallowing Curses’ sees the Merchandise duo Brad and Con furrowing the tranquil yet seductive scenic route between the hilly pastures occupied by J Xaverre and Minotaur Shock for some more oodles of scrumptious ethereal pop, delicately hypnotic their brand of acoustic folk electronics is all at once captivating and warmingly fluffy. Lyrics written by sometime band collaborator Roger Williams, ‘Swallowing Curses’ glides softly to moments defined by the exquisitely sizzling faraway elegance of the ‘La Folie / Feline’ era Stranglers all tripped by scuttling dusty beats and honey drenched China Crisis ‘Wishful Thinking’ like backdrops, cruelly gorgeous. Flip over for ‘Terracotta Caterpillar’ to be treated to a spot of spectral click crazy beat bopping upbeat magic, think of a heavenly overture for the passage into the afterlife devised by a cryogenic Boards of Canada collaborating with Plone and being played by an assembled cast of 70’s children’s TV test card boffins led by the Clangers, quite sweet in a starry eyed kind of way.

The Earlies ‘Devil’s Country’ (Names). Deep breath kids the Earlies alert is sounding and that can only mean one thing, pop magnificence is in the house. Already the subject of one of the gigs of the year for their debut live performance at the Arts Café early this year where quite frankly from a bulging stage (just how many Earlies are there?) the sounds emanating had that chilly feel good vibe that you get from waking on a Christmas morning to find that that Santa bloke has checked in with all the goodies you earmarked on your begging letter along with a few you’d some how overlooked or couldn’t find space to fit on. But then that says it all about the Earlies there’s something unearthly and wrong about listening to them when the sun’s cracking the flags, to Polyphonic Spree’s almost radiant glow they are the polar opposite offering that sense of inner warmth in frosted climes. Currently turning heads with their debut long player ‘These were the Earlies’ which to be honest is a gathering up of all those singles that we warned you about yonks ago, don’t you feel daft now? That’ll teach you to pay attention in future. Our mathematical head tells us ‘Devil’s Country’ is their fifth outing now, coming across like an older brother of ‘Wayward Son’ its more of that soft hazy folk psychedelia in the vein of Spiritualised chomping at the bit with a preacher man delivery from the back of the rickety Painted Wagon being dragged through the Australian out back to a furious glazing of Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Tusk’ and a subtle Roxy like glam icing ushered all the time by blasts of exhilarating brass fanfares while spreading the word to the wise. In other words damn fine. ‘One of us is dead’ features more ethereal visitations from above, pretty much orbiting the same floating voids as ’25 Easy Pieces’ and ‘Long Road (again)’ and in spirit lyrically complementing the Beatles ‘A day in the life’, so gentle and torturously timid it takes your breath away not before serenading you with a spot of melancholic willowy brass that dips ever so slightly into Soft Cell’s ‘Torch’. By rights by the time the snow bound ‘Across the Line’ hits home your already spellbound, more like a reprise, it softly curdles to caress you with its elegiac late night touch. We are already converted, what the Earlies want to know is, are you? Greatness looms large.

Ben Christophers ‘Good day for the hopeless’ (Cooking Vinyl). We hold our hands aloft in admitting that Ben Christophers previous two albums had somewhat passed us by and that on the evidence of this delightful three track release we are deservedly kicking our shins as a result in penance for the oversight. A taster for his forthcoming third long player ‘The spaces in between’, ‘Good day for the hopeless’ sees Christophers moving into more upbeat realms, a crooked mix of ambling wide eyed spectral folk spliced through with fluffily spooled up day-glo textures that mood wise aren’t to far away from ‘Flowers’ era Bunnymen, one minute in this babies company and your hooked, think of a more ethereal Baby Bird basking in lolloping ice dripped hanging chords playfully ushering in lysergic summer morns. ‘Walking with you’ is just arresting, several notches up on the lead cut, both intimate and demanding, it relays a sense pensiveness that these days you only find finely crafted to such precision by Yorke and Co, that presence of being wrapped in a bubble of calm while all outside is chaos, if not in spirit than in essence drawing on the same song writing blocks as Kate Bush in that same tensely aching way that’s only aim is to root you to the spot in awe. Complete the set with a demo version of the romantic and rustically kooky ‘She’ and you have something of a shiningly effervescent release. Check out the label website for a free download of ‘Devil to Kill’.

Wren ‘Drive down lines’ (Melodic). ‘Drive down lines’ is a taster for the forthcoming debut long player ‘The Egg and The Tree’ from Birmingham based Wren known to his Ma and Pa as Nick Peill. According to the accompanying literature Nick, a normally shy creature, it seems has been laying siege to the Melodic mailbox with demos to such a point that Manchester’s purveyors of electronica faced a life imprisoned in their windowless hide out unless they succumbed. Succumbed they did the result being this slow cooking nugget of fluffy pop. Noodling cyclical rhythms, scuttling beats and rippling electronic under carriages that appear initially with the same kind of autumnal chilliness as more associated with Archer Prewitt before breathlessly slipping up a gear or three to morph into a driving whirly pop wonder of a cut that leaves you hanging on to the bumper in its wake and getting high on its enriched chemical compound of post rock-ist laid back past orally perfected exhaust fumes, dreamy stuff indeed. Things get ever so better elsewhere being backed lovingly by the snoozing ‘It grew from a stone’ which has all the chilly calm of a picture-esque village having a Sunday morning lie in, all the time warmly snuggled up beneath a blanket of freshly laid snow. Another of those Melodic magic moments then, don’t say we didn’t warn you.

Anna Kashfi ‘Lakeside Call’ (Stolenwine). There’s no doubt that the name Anna Kashfi is synonymous with the phrase near perfection, 2001’s ‘Philokalia’ was one of the defining moments of that year when it was granted a limited release on the much missed Emma’s House records and into the bargain perhaps offering the label its most celebrated moment. It was simply a record of such withering elegance that angels wept and the very heart of nature buckled and sighed in mournful awe. Now back and fleshed out to a quartet following the arrival of Peter Martin and Sarah Kemp to the fold of mainstays Sian Webley and James Youngblood. Three years on, a new release in the form of Lakeside Call’ backed by Whitworth Park’ and a new label which says to me that either (a) the music industry is a cruel place for overlooking such irresistible talent, or (b), that in Anna Kashfi we have a group of work shy fops, but then if the waiting brings such exquisite rewards, who cares? Anna Kashfi okay another time, a time where innocence and timid naivety run hand in hand, there is no hype here, or for that matter pre arranged bandwagon jumping, the music simply speaks for itself. It’s a music that is timeless and forever hopeful that lies in the cracks between fashion and cult-dom. Sharing that same rustic eloquence and that unique ear for a divine melody as the likes of the Relict and Quiet Loner, both cuts are perfect examples of arresting heartbreak pop. From the opening strains on ‘Lakeside Call’ of the soft viola and the tripping dusted banjo you are immediately aware that you are in the presence of something monumentally special. Brushed with a heart shredding melancholy Sian’s vocals add the final complimentary piece to what painfully fragile and exhaustingly sapping. Flip over for ‘Whitworth Park’ where moods are thankfully happier in spirit, Anna Kashfi playfully imagine the Velvets had they shifted into country rather than pop, subtle tones of pedal steel washes, twinkling bells and the cooling breeze of an accordion melt together into a delectably sensual backdrop that quite frankly summer’s were made for. Joint deputy single of the missive.

Multiplex ‘With hands and feet’ EP (Multiplex). Multiplex are duo Christian and Roland Dorman, an album ‘Pinghaus Frequencies’ for London’s Toytronic label and a plethora of releases and remixes for a multitude of electronica labels is about all we know about this lot. ‘With hands and feet’ marks the duo’s first outing on their own Multiplex imprint, a CD clocking in at over 40 minutes worth of music and gathering 10 cuts of which 9 are remixes by friends they’ve met along the way to include Safety Scissors, Shitmat, Novel 23, Digitional, Proem, Fizzarum, Dictaphone and Decadnids invited for the ride and whose only entrance fee was to offer up their own interpretation of the hosts ‘Hands and Feet’. By and large a spiffing release, Multiplex lead out the troops with their Oriental bathed space noodling concocted dinky toy town electronics. An alluring musical box feast of enchanting escapism that wouldn’t really go amiss sitting on the Static Caravan or Expanding roster having that same frosted complexion of say ISAN and the delicate child like aroma of Plone. Fellow Toytronic team players Digitional take to their task with some daring sophistication drenching their appraisal with a cortege of dreaming string arrangements and bobbing squelches very much in the best tradition of that man Fort Dax. Shitmat weigh in with two mixes, Planet Mu’s favourite sons completely strip down the original chassis and refit it with a bouncing chaotic blip core boost with all manner of dismembered add ons and wilfully discordant grooves. Proem bring clarity and calm to the proceedings, scratches and clicks jostle fluffily against space dub-esque backdrops it’s a similar style as adopted by Decadnids only theirs incorporates a more soundtrack like approach that fans of Manual may do well to check out. Safety Scissors dig into that whole robotic funk groove as ventured by Herbie Hancock in the early 80’s and come out the other side all the better for it. If our arms were forced up our back and at gun point told to choose one defining track the vote would have to go to Fizzarum’s retread. An exotic cocktail of late night down tempo sultriness and reclining snooze pop that’s matched only by the cosmically tinged romantic Android waltz pop of Novel 23 who manage to find the middle ground between Kraftwerk and Jean Michel Jarre before the Vector Lovers. Last an by no means least bringing up the rear admirably the sounds of City Centre Offices duo Dictaphone who serve up a tidy three minutes of evocative folk-tronics that’s sure to nuzzle in your head and play on ages after the CD has finished. Essential in case you really needed telling.

Santo El Diablo ‘Santo Vs. The Flying Saucers’ EP (Self released). It’s funny how band names have you sub consciously categorizing them even before you’ve had a chance to hear a single note. Santo El Diablo, no be honest, a surf sci-fi combo, right? Check the evidence, a sleeve with a still from a 50’s sci-fi b-movie depicting a UFO, then there’s the song titles: ‘Scream Freak’, ‘Animal, Vegetable, Mineral’ and the obligatory ‘Santo Vs. the Flying Saucers’. Man, it’s a certainty, we even quiffed up whatever hair we had, charged our ray gun proton packs
and for good measure slung under our arm surf boards in readiness for battle with the bug eyed dudes from Mars. Man were we wrong, what was geared up to be a twanging feast in the company of Man or Astro Man’s bastard half cousins manifests unnervingly into the total opposite. Strange indeed it is, when their not grinding out lysergic comatose inducing pop their happily whipping about in inebriated states in dustier climes. One EP already to their credit ‘The Santo 7 Ride!’ which we swear we’ll forego sleep for until our mits are firmly on a copy, and now this their latest 5 slice opus. Now call us romantic old fools but we’d like to think that ‘Santo Vs the Flying Saucer’ is the work of some strange futuristic transmogrication between They Might be Giants and the Pixies, combining intellects to cure the worlds evils with, and I kid you not here, post rock bubblegum pop. It gets better on ‘You am I blues’ where subtle word plays loosely sourced from ‘I am the Walrus’ are given a wonky numb school playground psychedelic edge that generally makes it the best off balanced weird pop song that Of Montreal didn’t write. ‘SITTM’ changes tact and dynamic completely sounding to these ears like Steve Earle staggering along Copperhead Road pissed as a fart on moonshine. ‘Animal Vegetable Mineral’ has the Beach Boys dragged of in a haze of recreational drugs into 70’s children’s TV land where Magic Roundabout relocates to Camberwick Green and our hapless trio are sentenced to play forever on ‘Handful of Songs’. Best of the lot though without doubt is the starry eyed ambling space folk opener ‘Scream Freak’ which ventures into territories more associated with the Earlies as though trimmed of their whirly pop additives and lugging behind them a massive bag of long forgotten and sadly discarded Will Sergeant riffs and blessed with a lilting fuzz laden fanfare like crescendo that Spiritualised would die for. A very coolly reclining treat for all.

Penny Red ‘Say you will’ (Demo). Most releases that come by our way these days are perfectly produced, there are so many gimmicks and gadgets that the most amazing gloss can be credited to something worked in a bedroom environment. And maybe its because of that exact reason that when we heard this we fell over ourselves with joy because this four track debut demo is, how can we put it mildly, as rough as a bear’s arse. Frankly we weren’t really expecting it, but then that’s the charm of it, so undeniably DIY and yet couched in that whole 77 / 78 era where the whole aesthetic seemed to be developed as the key players learnt from their mistakes, a time where there were no rule books the fundamental criteria being having the passion, ambition and belief to succeed. Penny Red are that era’s offspring and okay this EP is flawed with odd moments that have you scratching your chin and thinking ‘impetuous youth’ but then its that gritty warts ‘n’ all showmanship that makes it so appealing. Upholding the spirit of punk from their Suffolk / Essex borders these tracks were recorded as a live demo in Chelmsford and capture perfectly the bands energetic aggression. Opening with ‘Say you will’ itself a turning back of the clock to those late nights spent watching rock’s aristocracy being upstaged on the OGWT, its probably the sets most casually laid back cut that digs deep into that early pub rock groove that would spawn Dr Feelgood, although here we think references to Tom Robinson are probably more apt. ‘Bully Boy Tactics’ ups the ante considerably, cockney terrace punk rock that has one foot in the boot camp of early pre –‘Hersham Boys’ Sham 69, you know the good stuff before the fascist come along and pissed on the everyone’s parade, while the other foot is busy pogoing itself sick to the sounds of a primal sounding Buzzcocks fronted by Steve Diggle, the only ingredient missing being the additional harmonies which you feel would do wonders on this. Likewise the ‘Cocks influence is all to apparent on ‘Stupid’ but it’s the crunching ‘Falling’ where the band hit the road running a racing punk pop nugget that perfectly hooks up to that New York scene of the era to recall a loosened up Television. All in all a nifty little rough and ready rocker it has to be said.

Sweatmaster ‘Song with no words’ EP (Bad Afro). More top drawer garage rock from Denmark’s finest purveyors of all things six string and hook laden, the eminent Bad Afro, having already drove our Hi-Fi to distraction with corking debut releases from Viva Vertigo and Silver now it’s the turn of Finland’s Sweatmaster to incinerate sound system. First encountered in these pages with their blistering ‘Hold it’ 7” from a year or two ago the Lords of the Stooges Church are back to kick ass and bloody your nose in a death defying roller coaster ride of ball breaking bravado. Currently in the studio putting the finishing touches to their follow up to last years awesome debut long player ‘Final Cut’ which is tentatively slated for early 2005 release this smart must have electrifying 8 track EP serves as taster to fill that gap between now and then. Featuring two new studio cuts and 6 rollicking covers that show where Sweatmaster are at, 8 songs packed viciously into a storming 17 minutes, Sweatmaster get to executing the task at hand like a turbo charged version of the Supersuckers, a total cranium busting display of motherfucking mayhem as the dudes strut and swagger to give your airspace the spanking of its life. Opening with the scorching ‘Song with no words’ beset with that same stripped down dynamic as the Seeds, the lads tune into the Hives frequency and fuck them over just for the pure fun of it while ‘Dirty little things’ arms itself with a sure to be heavy MTV rotation lusting throb recalling an unholy alliance between those White Stripes kids and QOSTA. After all that fun throw in six floor shaking covers the best being the razor sharp drive through of the Wipers ‘Mystery’ and a demonic speed freaking make over of Minor Threat’s lost classic ‘I don’t wanna hear it’, fucking awesome but be honest did you really expect anything else?

The Omegas ‘Nothing left to show’ (Demo). Now this kids is going to take your breath away, forget all those bands peddling second rate 60’s melodies, this my friends is the real deal. An awesome package that features a four-track demo and a 23-minute home movie DVD of the band, sadly our copy doesn’t work, nevertheless this is going to blow your mind. With a band name that’s so silver age marvel comics superhero like, the trio: Prash, Veno and Taina (that’s one bloke and two sisters in case you were wondering) have been billed by their management company as the hottest band in London which to most is gonna serve as a red rag to a bull, but then they may just have a point. The Omegas dig deep to deliver an authentic glimpse of the London / San Francisco scenes in 1967 as though if by magic they’ve just fallen through some kind of time vortex, their psychedelic folk rock jam is captivating and so intoxicating that you can smell the potent aroma of sweat, incense, promiscuity and carefree wild abandon eking through the hanging choked lines of marijuana of a happening scene. Currently with one release under their belts the recent 6 track EP entitled ‘The Omegaz’ (which we are yet to hear) this sizzling set is a mind melting fusion of acid drenched fuzz laden tapestries and blessed out loved up voyages into the minds eye that recall the bluesy work outs of Hendrix tripping out with the organ bled cerebral landscapes of the Doors while taking to their bosom the freeform improvisational dynamic of the Grateful Dead especially on the arse shaking smoking gun groove of the softly spaced out sensualism of ‘Time has come’. Throughout this quartet of cuts the subtle whiff of Jefferson Airplane, Curved Air and Cream come to the fore Veno’s powerful Joplin-esque vocals acting as a guiding light through the thick stoned fog created by Prash especially on the maddening chimes of the grooving transcendental rocker ‘Nothing left to show’ where their brand of hocus pocus hippie idealisms do battle with the more liberated rockers from the current garage scene such as the Dirtbombs and the Bell Rays while on the crushing ‘She rides a lion’ the trio tune carefully into the intense swamp like storm inducing territories of the Space Team Electra’s darkened spiritualist voids of lead vocalist Myshel Prasad’s mind. All in all amid an era of fast living and selfishness the Omegas return to the old ideals could just prove to be rock’s saving grace, whatever happens a mind-blowing ride awaits, dare you jump on? Joint single of the Missive.

Monkey ‘Spider in the Water’ (Sugarlow). Debut two-track release from London based trio Monkey which we have to admit really put us on the back heel when it was slipped into the CD player, so gentle and unassuming is it that you can’t help being smitten by the whole thing. If we didn’t know any better we’d have said that these was the result of a co-incidental meeting in a burger bar between Pavement, Coldplay and Air, who after allowing the fizzy stuff to flow had laughed and joked swapping notes and studio tales then decided at the spare of the moment to collaborate. The result being ‘Spider in the Water’ which mixes all the prevalent ingredients of the three i.e. waywardness, bristling end of the line melancholia and tingling cosmic backdrops and something which we’d be inclined to suggest could easily be a distant cousin to the flip side of that Birdpen debut from last year ‘Dig that hole’ given that it’s borne of those similar kind of electronic dream wash soul sapping pop motifs. Flipside features the lonesome ‘Brand new blues’ slightly more upbeat than the lead cut yet doing nothing to dull that sense of feeling crushed from the inside out. A beautiful thing once you’ve pieced your broken heart back together.

Big Cash Prizes ‘Movement’ (Demo). Not much information about this lot other than they are from Stoke and this 4-track demo release is one of the best things we’ve heard in a long while, all raging and baying for blood and not a duff cut in sight. Rushing in from the same austere future’s past as the likes of the Koreans, the Vanities etc…reviewed else where in these musings, Big Cash Prizes are the gritty edge of the whole machine rock / post punk genre currently sweeping through the nation, though instead of looking aloof and making music to vogue to their more happy chartering a more terrace orientated approach of acidic laced Terminator pogo pop that toys with 90’s strobe infested psychedelic hazes and throbbing wannabe rock-ist dynamics best captured on the spitefully Idol-esque sneering dirty grind of the ZZ Top fucked over by the Primals ‘Walk On’. Big Cash Prizes excel at delivering a blistering fix of agitated guitars, darkly looming atmospherics all under-towed by electro shock grooves, just check out ‘Bleak Disco’ which nicks along the way the bass line from U2’s ‘A new years day’ then enticingly plugs into the whole bleak 1979 / 80 landscape in particular the Liverpool scene where they cleverly engage Wah Heat c. ‘Nah poo! The art of bluff’ in a head on clash with an all consuming hybrid of current day and old school Killing Joke bloodied by the moodist storm warring of ‘Script of the Bridge’ era Chameleons. Add in the aspect of unnerving tenseness that they manage so ably to thread intrinsically into their melodies, the opening ‘Movement’ spends the best part of it’s sub four minute outing creeping around ominously in the shadows like a deranged stalker causing your blood to run cold while eliciting the chill of very early Cabaret Voltaire before exploding into a caustically charged hip swinging floor melting groover. Not wanting to be left out ‘Z Cars’ with its infectious zig zagging cranium-boring riffs is blessed as though being the result of a fist fight between a particularly up for it Clash and a dance orientated Joy Division and at the close has the cheekiness to take sizeable pot shots at Bananarama’s ‘Robert De Niro’s Waiting’ just for fun. The youth of today, phew! All in all a remarkable festering debut of fuck you aggressive miserablism and deserving of the rarely awarded single of the Missive albeit jointly.

No Tsuris ‘Sampler’ (absolutely Kosher). There was a time when I used to get sent all the Absolute Kosher releases the minute they fell off the production line, and mighty fine they were to. Though if anyone where to ask me to describe the label I’d have had to admitted that they were a little sparse, perhaps more so frail and a tad genteel that made twee positively rocking. So imagine my surprise in recently getting hold of a copy of Pidgeon’s debut album ‘From gutter with love’, blimey we fell over ourselves in total admiration. A spiteful release that really does show up musicians far older and with (allegedly) more experience of the so-called business for what they really are, i.e. clueless. So why am I rambling, where is this leading. Well simple really, this twenty-track sampler from California’s Absolutely Kosher reveals a label that these days are kicking sizable with Pidgeon just one of many stinging bows to their armoury. So what treats lie in wait then, good question. Eltro are represented by ‘Motorboat’ a curious though compelling mix of beats, psychedelic folk and Edward Lear, think of Bjork, the Slits, Cornelius and the Lemon Jelly all collaborating on some waywardly trippy down tempo fest. Those morning the loss of the Elephant 6 Collective might do well to check out the lysergic pop of Marty while the Telegraph Melts offer a curious blend of pensive quiet pop spliced through with the sophisticated washes of accompanying violins. Then there’s the infectious toy town tuneage of Jukeboxer and the electro power pop perfection of the Wrens ‘Hopeless’ or the Anthony Newley phase David Bowie doing slightly off balanced West Coast sunshine pop in the shape of Bottom of the Hudson. Summer at Shatter Creek again as with all of these bands / artists are / is previously unknown to me, but you can bet your bottom dollar after hearing ‘My neighbour’s having a seizure’ we want to hear more, a feel good confused collision of multi faceted pop moments that shouldn’t by rights co-exist let alone blend, warm and weird but daft as it may seem in 6 minutes it manages to touch base with Sigur Ros / the Busy Signals and everything in between. Aside the excellent ‘Strelnikov’ from Pidgeon best cut of the set is the turbulent though gracefully soundtrack sweeps of the Swords Projects which should satiate lovers of Mogwai and Workhouse while not to mention keeping lovers of Set Fire to Flames glued with fascination. With future releases promised from current darlings the Hidden Cameras and Goblin Cock (yes we spotted the accidental seamless link too) the future certainly looks Kosher. All you need do now is hear for yourself, drop Cory a nice email and tell them dudes we sent you.

Jens Lekman ‘You are the light’ (Secretly Canadian). Can’t remember for sure whether this is the third or fourth EP in as many months from Scandinavian musician Jens Lekman. For those who haven’t been paying attention at the back, Mr Lekman recently scored a top 5 hit in his home territory of Sweden under the pseudonym Rocky Dennis with the track ‘You are the light’ featured here in all its glory. Believed destined for greatness in some quarters and who are we to argue given that his previous EP releases for Secretly Canadian have proven beyond a shadow of doubt that here lies an artist caught with both hands and feet in the perfect pop cookie jar and possessing a finely tuned ear for candy pop and the writing tools to deliver them by the truck load. This EP reveals a growing sense of maturity as Lekman ventures into Bacarach’s sophisticated realms. ‘You are the light’ ushers in to the sound of sunshine filled brass fanfares with the sweeping bravado of anthemic cool, so drenched in saccharine laced grooves you could easily get a sweet tooth, ridiculously infectious its cue is indelibly motored by the early 70’s prime slices of Edwin Moses as though sharing bar snacks with the crooning Brat Pack and being fronted by Andy ‘Music to watch girls by’ Williams. It’s a cute trick that’s repeated on the late night bourbon soured intimacy of the wiley ‘A man walks into a bar’. Elsewhere ‘I saw her in the anti-war demonstration’ is blessed with a snaking Byrds-esque riff flooded by softly alluring orchestrations that gives of a hippy inspired ‘Sweet November’ vibe and is temptingly topped off by a Morrissey / Richman like vocalisation that’ll simply floor you. ‘A sweet summer night on hammer hill’ ups the tempo considerably, a hip swinging sultry summers night concoction of the Modern Lovers and Martha Reeves and the Vandellas ‘Heatwave’ and damn smart with it. A star in the ascendancy methinks.

Ten Foot Nun ‘The Mask Drop’ (Self Released Sampler). And last but by no means least, the deranged sounds of a young Croydon in the form of Ten Foot Nun. We’ve had this baby kicking holes in the speakers for a few weeks now, one of those rare releases that once inside your head demands to be revisited again and again coming across with the same pathological glee as an addiction. Self described disciples of spazmo pop, this four piece (according to the accompanying notes) threaten to spread word of their imminent arrival into the pop world via gigs, word of mouth, airplay ‘and the massive and baffling interweb’. Don’t you just love ‘em? Well we’ve made up our minds and suspect (and hope) that this lot are going to be around for a fair while yet. This killer seven cut sampler possesses some of the most ad hoc and deranged fun we’ve had in a long while. Angular riffs that act like hidden booby traps waiting to spring ferociously into action aligned to furious surges of everything from glam / punk / prog / art on detox to rock opera / metal and beyond, there’s no doubting that the sounds that Ten Foot Nun extricate are indeed worthy of brain damage and more than likely will lead to wide spread medical complaints of aneurysms across the nation once their circus wheels out on the road. Coming across like an evil Supergrass this collection gathers together prime cuts from selected releases to date, most notably their two EP’s ‘Modify my young’ and ‘Science Abuse’ with a brace culled from their forthcoming LP ‘Squelch’. TFN offer humour by the truckload but wrapped in sledgehammer like blows, frankly this sampler is either the work of warped genius or the fruits of the local asylums annual creative day. The screwball ‘Last night I dreamed I saw your band’ is hearteningly worrying, consider the Pretty Things ‘Defecting Grey’ being done by a wired to the hilt Half Man Half Biscuit doing Cardiacs impressions and instead sounding like the Damned being chased by the Texas Chainsaw dude and reading the chord sequences back to front. If you manage to get past that, and many won’t, the gruelling ‘Limpo / Collapso’ awaits talons sharpened just around the corner, casually lifting the riff from the Sparks ‘This town ain’t big enough’ and dropping it nervously into a divinely spasmodic groove that’s frankly impossible to jig to with or without a seizure and elsewhere incorporating a dangerously unhinged metal core to the whole thing. The discordant ‘Find him and kill him’ is equally frantic, apparently from the musical ‘King of Kings’, now we assume the film of the same name is their point of reference though for the life of me I can’t remember any scene were our erstwhile central character played by Jeffrey Hunter, went off into the wilderness to pogo until he was sick. Needless to say invites to play the Cambridge Folk Festival are a long way off. The shredded blues of ‘Open your house’ is the nearest those romantics among you will get to hearing a love song, but don’t build your hopes to much the Commodores it isn’t (thankfully), to these ears sounds like Ned’s Atomic Dustbin sent through the air with great pace and force with the resulting stationary body mass slammed through a blender with the added bonus of some leery backward vocals. Storming stuff all of it. All in all the kind of thing to give Mr Peel wet dreams total acidic angular anarchy awaits and rightfully earning the coveted Single of the Missive though jointly by a short head, a few waywardly erratic solos and a nose bleed or three.

And that’s pretty much it for another week or so. Keep your eyes peeled for the aforementioned Losing Today magazine. Next time out hopefully we’ll have the finalised Fort Dax mixes plus a stack of goodies to make your feet tap, teeth chatter and wallets lighter, among the chasing pack being assembled new releases from Singled Out favourites the Knife (a taster for their up and coming album ‘Deep Cuts’), a particularly nifty debut from Spectrum 311, some wonky toy box madness from Kid Carpet, new Sink and Stove kids on the block the Vibration, latest Rough Trade pre season signings Aberfeldy, a storming first outing from Dive Dive, something quite sublime from Eye, the corking demo from Emerald Ocean, the second release from favourites Three Man Amp, a tasty newie from Broadway Project, the latest from My Pet Junkie, the Truckee Brothers, a mighty fine debut from singer songwriter Aaron Short, quite possibly one or two offerings from the Great Pop Supplement stable plus any other treats that we can manage to unearth between now and next time.

All that leaves for me is to thank all the bands, labels and press rep’s for making these musings possible, no names you know who you are. Death threats and general words of comfort as always welcome

Take care of yourselves and I’ll see you in seven (hopefully). Happy hunting,


‘May the groove be with you’.

End of transmission.

Singled Out contains no additives, nuts, animal fats or chemical derivitatives. Any abnormal effects are purely of your own making. If irregular symptoms do occur, retire to a darkened room and repeat the dose at an increased volume. If symptoms persist seek your independent record store for advice.

This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s