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Telephone Explosion proudly presents the self-titled debut LP from Toronto’s UH HUH, out physically and digitally on April 14, 2023. The album features eight tracks of dub-damaged art rock which conjure a potent vision of spaced-out 1980s post-punks feeding their angular rhythms and bass-heavy grooves through layer upon layer of grime-spattered spring reverb.

There is a palpable sense of discovery and exploration throughout UH HUH’s 37 heady minutes. Elastic basslines and serpentine guitar phrases throb and glide, cutting through dubwise reverberations like hands moving through an opaque cloud of reefer smoke.

Formerly known as Teenanger, the reconfigured (and reinvigorated) group’s newfound sense of sonic identity is put on display the moment the door kicks open. The percolating spaciousness of opener “Somewhere Beyond” is followed by the cyclical grooves of “Redemption Pause.” Vocalists Christopher Swimmings and Melissa Ball each take respective turns at lead vocal duties, showcasing their contrasting yet complimentary styles.

“Babylon”, a slab of overcast, loping funk features both singers on the same track, alternating between Swimmings’ stoned syncopation and Ball’s saccharine melancholy. This juxtaposition leans against a backdrop of reverb-soaked drums, watery guitar chords and rippling trumpet.

The slinking, fractured grooves of “Rain (In The Afternoon)” and “Citrus Song” call to mind the deranged minimal dub-wave of Naffi or Vivien Goldman. Both songs feature lyrical content heavily inspired by the Florida swamplands, although the aural landscape on these tracks is decidedly more brutalist than Boca Raton. Two of the songs included here are reworkings of previously released Teenanger numbers. “Blinds Drawn” is reduced to its core elements of bottom-heavy rhythm, spliced guitar shanks and Swimmings’ murmured ruminations. “Good, You”, on the other hand, is completely re-imagined as a blissed-out melt of opiated bossa nova.

After countless hours of experimentation during the album’s recording sessions at Toronto’s Studio Z, the band decided to send their drum machines, snare drums and percussion through an obscure 1960’s Japanese Guyatone guitar amp with a notoriously ecstatic spring reverb sound. The result was immediately inspiring.

The dank, busted and clanking tones produced by the Guyatone evoke a muggy, humid atmosphere that mimics the photo on UH HUH’s cover. The process of re-amping is literally the means through which UH HUH found the sound of this record. UH HUH is a record that asks more questions than it does provide answers. This is searching music that requires that the listener lean into it, the more time you spend in between the beats, bars, notes contained within, the more vivid the picture becomes.

Another release of Musical Mayhem Records is here!!

Here comes the 11th act of our 10" series. Another fusion of obscure 60/70s grooves, epic 90s conversations and other unknown elements from outer space.

Here comes the 11th act of our 10" series. Another fusion of obscure 60/70s grooves, epic 90s conversations and other unknown elements from outer space.

Pinchy & friends is delighted to present the latest offering from Kaifeng-born and raised, Vancouver-based musician Yu Su.

In her first major release of original music since 2021’s acclaimed “Yellow River Blue” LP, Yu Su says elements for the EP began to form during time spent in the deserts of Ojai, California and the fertile coastal areas around her home in British Columbia. Of the new release, Yu Su says the ideas are thanks to “the objects around (colors, reflections of light, wood burning in the fireplace, and material rhyme with the sounds in the room) the desert and valley plants, the ground where citrus grows, and the flood a rainstorm created.” She notes that “the golden earth is the changing point of the matter, earth centers, stabilizes, and conserves, nurtures, and seeks to draw all things together with itself.”

Likewise, the four varied pieces of the EP match four very different landscapes: Earth-of-water (Wet/Cold Earth) Earth-of-Fire (Arid/Hot Earth) Earth-of-Metal (Dry/Hard Earth) Earth-of-Wood (Loose-Fertile/Warm Earth).

Additional guitar and bass were provided by Scott Johnson Gailey and Aiden Ayers - who also play in Yu Su’s live band.

The vinyl release comes on 180g vinyl in a full-colour sleeve by Seoul based Lobde Kim, with OBI STRIP.

Mental acid...
A side brings a long KVN23 night frogs acid song...
The flip offer 2 other mental acid tunes. In a deep calm trippy way : peacefull style.
Welcome to Semper on da first vinyl !

Splash Blue is proud to present a brand new album borne from the latest collaboration between Jean-Paul ‘Bluey’ Maunick and Francisco Sales of Incognito – ‘The New Guitar Underground Vol 1’.

THE NEW GUITAR UNDERGROUND
The New Guitar Underground are Jean-Paul ‘Bluey’ Maunick and Francisco Sales of Incognito. Neither require introduction – Bluey – founder of the legendary Incognito, Inner Shade, CitrusSun and co-conspirator on the STR4TA project, solo artist, Composer and Record Producer & Francisco Sales, guitarist of Incognito and Citrus Sun, as well as being a solo artist in his own right, have come together to deliver a set of 10 highly crafted and accomplished tracks that lift the spirits and soothe the soul.
Inspired by the inspirational playing of the giants of the guitar world – Tony Mottola, Denis Budimir, George Benson, Bill Jennings & Melvin "Wah Wah" Watson to name but a few, the album reflects the deep love that Bluey and Francisco have for this multi faceted and beautiful instrument.
Guests on this album include bass players Francis Hylton, Hendrik Linder, Rui Pedro Pity and Julian Crampton, keyboardists Matt Cooper, James Berkeley and drummer Francisco Mendolia.
Of course the quality and depth of this musical composition should not be a surprise – given the pedigree of the artists involved, however, as Bluey says himself in the album notes, ‘’This is not a project seeking chart success. Just two guitar buddies having fun chasing musical waterfalls, and not sticking to the rivers and the lakes they’re used to.
We are just making ourselves happy. And if in doing so we make you happy too, then that, as they say, is "the payoff!" The result is an intoxicating fusion of guitars, samba, latin jazz, drum-driven beats, heavy bass lines - with some scratching and sampling thrown in for good measure!

Have we ever needed great storytellers so badly? Voices to snap us out of our collective grey funk, to pull us out of our narrow, hemmed-in worlds and to lighten our days and enlighten us with their perspectives, Immersing us in their worldview and history. People who can make us laugh, cry, gasp or nod sagely, to see our world anew and not feel so alone. We need stories, vignettes, new windows to look out of, and narrators to help those new visions make sense.

In short, we need Scott Lavene. Born and raised in Essex, but a man of the world who has wandered far and wide, Lavene’s a storyteller who can capture all the madness, joy and frustration of life while singing about worms writhing in the ground. Lavene’s been in bands since his teens, but only really located the voice that makes his new album Milk City Sweethearts so remarkable – that combination of wry observation, humble wisdom, unguarded vulnerability and unpredictable humour – in a music workshop for alcoholics and addicts, long after he’d bid farewell to childhood dreams of pop stardom, and the ghosts and demons that accompany those dreams.

He released an album as Big Top Heartbreak, 2016’s Deadbeat Ballads, and followed it with his first album under his own name, 2019’s droll and marvellous Broke. “I was signed to a little label in Bristol, but then they went skint,” he remembers. This time, however, the disappointment didn’t shake his confidence or his resolve. “I started writing prose, like ‘flash fiction’, and I’ve begun a novel,” he says. “And I’ve started some creative writing workshops for people who’ve come out of my situation.”

Amid all this activity, the songs that became Milk City Sweethearts began to take shape. Lavene noticed the border between his prose and his songwriting beginning to become porous, and the album feels like a clutch of excellent short stories set to music. Without a label, he recorded the album at home, and assembled it in a week in his mum’s garage during lockdown’s heavy manners. It’s a warm, witty, charismatic record with a dark heart at the centre, Lavene sounding dislocated and therefore able to write his everyday stories with a left-handed brilliance and blunt honesty that keeps them so fresh, like classic Kinks, or David Bowie if he’d never had to go to space to feel otherworldly. His songs are talking blues, set to loose and minimal and excellent art-rock with a pop sensibility, the honk of Roxy sax and the guttural weird-funk of Ian Dury’s Blockheads haunting their grooves.

Have we ever needed great storytellers so badly? Voices to snap us out of our collective grey funk, to pull us out of our narrow, hemmed-in worlds and to lighten our days and enlighten us with their perspectives, Immersing us in their worldview and history. People who can make us laugh, cry, gasp or nod sagely, to see our world anew and not feel so alone. We need stories, vignettes, new windows to look out of, and narrators to help those new visions make sense.

In short, we need Scott Lavene. Born and raised in Essex, but a man of the world who has wandered far and wide, Lavene’s a storyteller who can capture all the madness, joy and frustration of life while singing about worms writhing in the ground. Lavene’s been in bands since his teens, but only really located the voice that makes his new album Milk City Sweethearts so remarkable – that combination of wry observation, humble wisdom, unguarded vulnerability and unpredictable humour – in a music workshop for alcoholics and addicts, long after he’d bid farewell to childhood dreams of pop stardom, and the ghosts and demons that accompany those dreams.

He released an album as Big Top Heartbreak, 2016’s Deadbeat Ballads, and followed it with his first album under his own name, 2019’s droll and marvellous Broke. “I was signed to a little label in Bristol, but then they went skint,” he remembers. This time, however, the disappointment didn’t shake his confidence or his resolve. “I started writing prose, like ‘flash fiction’, and I’ve begun a novel,” he says. “And I’ve started some creative writing workshops for people who’ve come out of my situation.”

Amid all this activity, the songs that became Milk City Sweethearts began to take shape. Lavene noticed the border between his prose and his songwriting beginning to become porous, and the album feels like a clutch of excellent short stories set to music. Without a label, he recorded the album at home, and assembled it in a week in his mum’s garage during lockdown’s heavy manners. It’s a warm, witty, charismatic record with a dark heart at the centre, Lavene sounding dislocated and therefore able to write his everyday stories with a left-handed brilliance and blunt honesty that keeps them so fresh, like classic Kinks, or David Bowie if he’d never had to go to space to feel otherworldly. His songs are talking blues, set to loose and minimal and excellent art-rock with a pop sensibility, the honk of Roxy sax and the guttural weird-funk of Ian Dury’s Blockheads haunting their grooves.