Buscar:fuck dead

Die Dead Kennedys, eine der einflussreichsten Punkbands aller Zeiten, lieferten 1981 mit „Nazi Punks Fuck Off“ eine ihrer legendärsten Singles ab. Roh, unglaublich schnell und kompromisslos ist diese Platte eine zeitlose Momentaufnahme des rebellischen Geistes und der kompromisslosen Vision der DK.

2025 REPRESS!

* The debut album, 17 from the late musician, XXXTENTACION will be available for the first time ever on CD and LP formats.

* The album was a departure from the single that gained him noteriety, Look At Me!, and foreshadowing of what was to come. With a talent ahead of his time, and a life cut too short, XXXTENTACION's legacy will forever live on in physical form via these releases.

* The album, which is certified GOLD also features the 2x PLATINUM songs, Jocelyn Flores & Fuck Love, and also features deluxe packaging.

* Album features Trippie Redd

True Sneaker Social die-hard Etch returns with a monumental new album. Scream of the Butterfly shows the depth and breadth of one of the illest producers operating across the many spheres of club music with a distinct “you ‘kay?” slant.

From the moment the low-end pressure and loaded samples rear their heads on the opening track, Zak Brashill demonstrates his intent to sculpt Scream Of The Butterfly as a proper album — an end-to-end listening experience full of peaks and troughs which focus on sonic storytelling much more than club functionality. Throughout his imperious output to date, the man like Etch has displayed an affinity for sound design to match his instinct for what bangs on the spectrum of dubstep, garage, jungle and hip-hop, but now he’s gone postal on soundworld-building, with a grip of heavyweights drafted in to help set the scene.

Fellow Sneaker alumnus J-Shadow lends his maverick footwork science to ‘Star Fallen’, while UK rap anti-royalty Lee Scott brings his unmistakable Runcorn drawl to dusky head-nodder ‘Not Surprised’. UK bass-synth-ambient enigma E.M.M.A drops in for the moody, meandering midpoint ‘Stepford Lives’, and Killa P and Emz deliver blazing bars to the double dose of ‘Prayer Wheel (Left You Fi Dead)’ and ‘Heat Map’ respectively.

Elsewhere Brashill follows his own razor-sharp instincts into warping stop-start drum science, widescreen downtempo with teeth, seasick synth studies, moody-but-cosy 140 and lots more besides. Nothing comes as standard, but Scream of the Butterfly is ruff when it wants to be, subtle and spacious if the vibe demands it, and consistently packed full of the detail and intrigue that we’ve come to expect from one of the most inventive and reliably sick producers in the contemporary bassweight firmament.

I Want to Die in New Orleans is the debut studio album by American hip hop duo Suicideboys, which was released on September 7, 2018. The album chronicles semi-autobiographical stories of the duo's encounters with depression, drug addiction and suicidal ideation. Released to critical acclaim in the underground rap scene, the album debuted at number 9 on the US Billboard 200 with 49,000 album-equivalent units in its first week sales. The album also reached the top 10 in Australia and Finland.

Veteran is the second studio from renowned Baltimore rapper, JPEGMAFIA. It was released on January 19 2018 by Deathbomb Arc and Republic Records. The album was released to widespread critical acclaim and brought JPEGMAFIA to the forefront of contemporary and experimental hip hop. NME, Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, Noisey, and Spin all listed Veteran in their top 100 albums of 2018. In 2019, Pitchfork listed it at number 171 in their list of best albums of the decade. The album features JPEGMAFIA's most streamed song, 1539 N. Calvert.



As described by Pitchfork: "Entirely self-produced, Veteran is a remarkable exercise in sound and texture. At its best the production makes the frayed edges of each element part of the atmosphere, a mess of distortion that works percussively and melodically." JPEGMAFIA has since established himself as one of today's premiere contemporary and experimental hip hop artists, with over 1.5M monthly listeners on Spotify, and 500K+ Instagram followers.

Two mavericks, out on the weekend, trying to make it pay...

"Maverick was the word that came to mind when I listened to this music. A slightly wayward independence of spirit and outlook. The word originally referred to an unbranded male calf that had become separated from the herd (because Texan rancher Sam Maverick was so negligent in his branding - ‘if it ain’t branded, it’s a Maverick’). But Sam’s grandson Maury Maverick gave it a different twist in his short but stormy Congressional career as the only liberal member of the Southern Democratic caucus. Maury was so out of step with his own folks that he not only voted in 1937 to make lynching a federal crime, he even addressed the House to condemn the practice as barbaric. His attempt to ban racist mob murder sadly failed, but it’s that refusal to march in step which distinguishes the two ‘mavericks’ who made this record.

Who would attempt to combine cunning ethnological forgery, Scottish folk songs, claw-hammer guitar, untutored horn-tootling, elastically relaxed drumming and garage electronic fuckery? Only Greg and Stefan, high on sea, sunshine and mis-judged micro-dosing – that’s who. ‘Don’t drown’ was offered as practical advice during the self-described ‘Yellow Submarine’ phase of making this record. And while they managed to avoid literally doing so (phew), they sound here like they got pretty ‘deep in’ to an Octopus’s sound world all their own. This surprisingly clear analogue recording has just enough Bikini Bottom grit to ensure traction. The tunes are inviting, and the sonic disruptions are too good-natured and goofy to upset even the most delicate digestion.

The sessions have had a couple of years to marinate, courtesy of some pandemic, and are here offered in that most Archducal of vinyl formats, the double ten inch. What are you waiting for, a side of Crabby Patties? Get your water-wings and dive in (unless you’re tripping)!" - Bruce Russell (The Dead C)


Pumice is the long-running, endlessly inventive project of New Zealand native Stefan Neville (1974), whose shambolic music is equally reminiscent of Kiwi pop groups such as The Clean and Tall Dwarfs as well as the country's experimental noise-rock bands like the Dead C. Largely recorded solo by himself on junky equipment, his songs typically feature blown-out guitars, wheezing chord organs, and vocals disguised by tape hiss and static.

Greg Malcolm (1965) is a guitarist from New Zealand who has played everywhere on the globe and with all most everyone, including Rosy Parlane, Toshimaru Nakamura, Tetuzi Akiyama and Bruce Russell, as well as solo releases on his own label, Corpus Hermeticum, Kraak and Celebrate Psi Phenomenon.

Dancing as an act of rebellion is the first Abraxas LP in collaboration with the Valencian label Soil Records. A compilation of the first project recordings released between 2020 and 2021 plus some new tracks and, in addition to this, a second vinyl by other darkwave electronic artists remixing the first one: Geistform, We Are Not Brothers, Ober Dada, Melting Dogmas, SMforma, HBK1, José Rodríguez, SOJ and PanDemian.

Abraxas is a halfway project between dark dance electronic music, philosophical reflection, socio-political activism and musical entrepreneurship. Its main goal is to shake bodies and minds by spreading messages of individual and social self-criticism from the point of view of duality, extremes and contradiction, inherent to the human being and capitalist society.

"We Can Do Anything We Want Because They Say We Can't Afford The Police"

Talking Heads lost in Ancoats. Prince in a Berghaus. The Compass Point All-Stars meet the Piccadilly Gardens Spiceheads.
Welcome to the world of SEE THRU HANDS.

Here to bring salvation to a Broken Brexit Britain, See Thru Hands is a fresh band from Manchester with hooks for days and a SERIOUS live vibe. Their debut EP on Manchester legend RUF DUG's label RUF KUTZ - "The Hot City EP" - brings you two new songs backed with remixes tested on the world's best dance floors.

Opener HOT CITY's energetic punk/funk conveys a dark story of British city life outside the London bubble.
Our councils are fucked, our public services neutered and all anyone cares about is when Deliveroo is gonna be available in their neighbourhood. Throw away your post-apocalyptic fantasies because it's already like that - the only option is to dance. It's grim up north.

After dancing ur arse off and simultaneously coming to the realisation that we're all fucked pls don't worry - See Thru Hands are here to pick up your pieces with NOTHING TO LOSE, a whimsical modern pop banger with shades of New British House that will instil in you a sense of freedom and ease all your worries.
Yes we are all going to hell in a handcart but with See Thru Hands as our companions, I think it's all gonna be just fine.

The package comes backed with a pair of deadly remixes - boss man RUF DUG strips back Hot City to the bare bones, rigs up a couple of jazzy neon lights and a DMX drum machine and brings you his 'Metrolink Vibes In The Area' version, while young upstart METRODOME completes the all-Mancunian lineup on this record with a twisted Marmite 2-step interpretation that is either gonna make you buzz or spew. It's not for everyone.

Emerging from the vivid chaos of Detroit’s underground, ZelooperZ returns with Dali Ain’t Dead — a surreal yet deeply grounded statement from one of rap’s most singular voices. Following his recent collaborative exploration Dear Psilocybin (with Real Bad Man) — which found him moving through a “stream of psychosis” just before sobriety. (Pitchfork) — ZelooperZ enters this new chapter not simply as the same intricate-flows rapper, but as a rising cult-figure in underground hip-hop who’s forged an identity both enigmatic and quietly unstoppable.

On Dali Ain’t Dead, ZelooperZ channels the spirit of the surreal — the album’s title a nod to the iconic surrealist artist Salvador Dalí — as he reframes his world post-substance, post-chaos, yet still dripping with vivid imagination. Reviews highlight that the album finds him in a more focused mode: one critic writes that “ZelooperZ seems to have adopted a similar outlook to Dalí… embracing sobriety and allowing his art to exist as the psychotropic fuel for his mind.” (Album of the Year) Production (courtesy of Dilip) is inventive and cohesive, blending experimental hip-hop, trap, cloud-rap and drumless textures to mirror Ze’s newly clear-eyed vantage point and trademark eccentricity. (Legends Will Never Die)

Tracks like “Mona Lisa Left Eye” and “Push Me Around” (featuring Zack Fox) carry Z’s jagged humor and restless energy, while deeper cuts like “Shrooms” and “Take Me I’m Drugs” trace his evolving relationship with psychedelia and the legacy of his past. (Legends Will Never Die) In doing so, the record positions itself as the sound of a freak-icon in transition — still wild, still weird, but sharpened, matured, operating with a purpose and increasingly commanding the attention of fans who relish the underground unusual.

ZelooperZ’s trajectory continues to rise. From his roots in the Bruiser Brigade collective in Detroit to the present moment as a cult figure whose every release feels like a mission statement, Dali Ain’t Dead confirms that he’s no longer just the oddball off-to-the-side: he’s the weirdo that others are quietly watching. This album isn’t just for the longtime disciples of his left-field aesthetic — it’s an invitation to anyone curious about hip-hop bending, breaking, and rebuilding itself from the fringes inward.

Moo is the first wide release on my new label MUP! When I decided to make a new record, it only seemed right to go back to what brings me the most joy, which is, Rock & Roll music. I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA. I stopped caring if there were mistakes. There’s not enough mistakes. I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice. I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit. I wish it sounded even worse. Rock & Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED. All in all, MOO is a full circle moment. A return to form. A return to rock. A return to Vermont. A return to myself. Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.

Moo is the first wide release on my new label MUP! When I decided to make a new record, it only seemed right to go back to what brings me the most joy, which is, Rock & Roll music. I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA. I stopped caring if there were mistakes. There’s not enough mistakes. I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice. I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit. I wish it sounded even worse. Rock & Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED. All in all, MOO is a full circle moment. A return to form. A return to rock. A return to Vermont. A return to myself. Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.

A journey into the raw and visceral origins: from the demo sessions mixed by Steve Albini to the night of the very first secret show on December 20th, 1988. In the heart of Chicago, Geordie and Martin Atkins turned frustration and distance into pure creative energy, recording the now-legendary "Black Cassette" demos at Albini"s house. Distorted, menacing bass lines, unruly oscillators, and Albini running endlessly up and down the stairs between the basement drum room and the pantry control room defined a sound that was brutally direct and uncompromising. The first interactions with the Yamaha drum machine foreshadowed elements that would later shape parts of the album. Those sessions sparked essential ideas, while the future studio - purchased from Steve and moved to Wabash Ave - would soon become the core of Invisible Records and Killing Joke"s operations. On the other side, a truly rare document: excerpts from Atkins"s very first show with the band, at Burberries in Birmingham on December 20th, 1988. In a small, mirror-lined club filled with tension, adrenaline, and inevitable collisions with the walls, Extremities, The Fanatic, Intravenous, and The Beautiful Dead were performed publicly for the first time. It was the night when everything ignited: the blast beat still in its embryonic stage, the controlled fury Geordie demanded - "can you go a bit more Moonie on it?" - and above all Jaz"s theatrical yet strikingly genuine laughter. Not just joy, but a declaration: a giant "fuck off" to the doubters and a prelude of what was about to come. A raw, essential, indispensable testimony: the birth of an era.

A journey into the raw and visceral origins: from the demo sessions mixed by Steve Albini to the night of the very first secret show on December 20th, 1988. In the heart of Chicago, Geordie and Martin Atkins turned frustration and distance into pure creative energy, recording the now-legendary "Black Cassette" demos at Albini"s house. Distorted, menacing bass lines, unruly oscillators, and Albini running endlessly up and down the stairs between the basement drum room and the pantry control room defined a sound that was brutally direct and uncompromising. The first interactions with the Yamaha drum machine foreshadowed elements that would later shape parts of the album. Those sessions sparked essential ideas, while the future studio - purchased from Steve and moved to Wabash Ave - would soon become the core of Invisible Records and Killing Joke"s operations. On the other side, a truly rare document: excerpts from Atkins"s very first show with the band, at Burberries in Birmingham on December 20th, 1988. In a small, mirror-lined club filled with tension, adrenaline, and inevitable collisions with the walls, Extremities, The Fanatic, Intravenous, and The Beautiful Dead were performed publicly for the first time. It was the night when everything ignited: the blast beat still in its embryonic stage, the controlled fury Geordie demanded - "can you go a bit more Moonie on it?" - and above all Jaz"s theatrical yet strikingly genuine laughter. Not just joy, but a declaration: a giant "fuck off" to the doubters and a prelude of what was about to come. A raw, essential, indispensable testimony: the birth of an era.

XDCVR_ unveils 'I HATE THAT SHIT, I HATE ALL THAT SHIT' a blistering sonic manifesto on the 'performativity of decay'.

In a world saturated with digital perfection, the album emerges as a vital, hand-made act of electronic rebellion.

Framed as a "soundtrack for the end stretch" the record explores the notion that societal decay is not a passive process, but an active performance—a machine chugging along long after its wheels have fallen off.

This is cyborg music for a bifurcated reality: carbon-fiber toughness shielding a core of systemic rot. The sound palette is intentionally raw and imperfect, a direct challenge to the sterile, automated order of what the artist calls the "techno-fascist oligarchy."

Tracks eschew conventional temporality, mirroring the feeling of existing in two concurrent timelines—one hyper-aware of the collapse, the other numbly consuming it.

Drawing a line from the Cold War anxieties of the past to the data-farming dystopia of the present, 'I HATE THAT SHIT…' posits art as the last authentic incubator for societal change. It is, in the artist's words, "a deliberate 'fuck you' to the oppressive order of the status quo. This is not easy listening; it is a contested space, a lit fuse, and a necessary noise for our complicated times."

cLOUDDEAD's debut album, compiling six 10" EPs that appeared between 2000-2001, is aurally dense and obscured. A sprawling mass of miniature beat-suites and Dadaist lyrics, this strange and beautiful 3xLP would influence a myriad of sub-genres (cloud rap, hauntology, lo-fi hip-hop, etc.) in the two decades since its initial release.

Only the three members of cLOUDDEAD – Why?, Doseone and Odd Nosdam – can speak to the group's origins, but in the context of underground hip-hop towards the end of the 20th century, their arrival makes perfect sense. Cincinnati had a vital scene; home to Scribble Jam, an annual confluence of MCs, DJs, B-boys and graffiti artists. While the trio soon relocated to the Bay Area where they co-founded the Anticon collective, their Midwestern roots – in ramshackle basements of off-campus hovels, as the "cerberus of Southern Ohio" – would remain the atomic heart of their early recordings.

As Chris Martins writes in the liner notes, "The only reason we know their names today is because of how loudly and curiously they aired their insularity. They rewrote the entire world as they knew it through their own fucked perspective, and when those mysterious 10-inches started popping up in record shops, it wasn't just a puzzle to investigate: there seemed to be a whole cosmology hidden in those grooves."

Each side of the album represents one of those elusive 10-inches, each embodying a universe unto itself. Opening salvo "Apt. A" and "And All You Can Do Is Laugh" are perhaps most emblematic of the cLOUDDEAD experience. Why? and Dose create a new language through boundless non-sequiturs, sing-song non-choruses and call-and-response hooks, while Nosdam's dexterous production shifts from crackling ambience of Flying Saucer Attack to tight Ohio Players drum breaks and oblique film samples.

Taken all together, cLOUDDEAD is an original interpretation of hip-hop in the surreal Y2K glow – a bizarre meeting point between William Basinski's Disintegration Loops and MF DOOM's Operation: Doomsday. All it took was a Dr. Sample SP-202, Tascam cassette eight-track and cheap RadioShack mic. There's truly nothing like it.

This edition has been faithfully restored by Nosdam. European exclusive version comes on clear vinyl, incl. fold-out poster and liner notes insert.

Nina Wilson, better known as Ninajirachi, is a 26-year-old Australian electronic producer who released her debut album I Love My Computer earlier this year via NLV Records. A concept record built on her connection with her PC, swiping between genres of EDM, tech-house, speed garage, dubstep, and hyperpop. Wilson builds on the legacy of early-2000s and 2010s Australian electronic artists like PNAU and Flume using technology as a medium, a motif, and a mirror for reflection. Between remixing Princess Nokia, Deadmau5 & The Neptunes, releasing on Nina Las V egas’ NLV Records and RL Grime’s Sable V alley, Ninajirachi has performed at Lollapalooza, EDC, Laneway, Listen Out, Splendour, Falls Festival, and more and toured with Mallrat, Charli XCX, Porter Robinson and Cashmere Cat.

Limited to 250 copies !

The Deadheads had never had much luck with spaceships. Their first mission had ended in a catastrophic engine failure, leaving them adrift in deep space for weeks. This time, their craft was hardly more reassuring. A hodgepodge of outdated technology and shoddy repairs made it more of a floating death trap than a reliable cruiser. As they began their descent toward the strange planet, the hull creaked and rattled, sending a wave of dread through the crew.

"Hold on," Matt's voice crackled over the intercom, without much conviction, as if he himself doubted they would make it out alive. Outside, a thick, grayish atmosphere swirled ominously, while the planet's gravity became far stronger than anticipated.

“Fuck, we’re gonna burn at the entrance!” M yelled, his hands flailing on the console as sparks flew from the control panel. The ship’s sensors were completely jammed, and the navigation system flickered intermittently, like a dying light. Below, the planet’s surface was a tangle of lava rivers and jagged rock formations, the kind of place no sane person would ever land. But the Deadheads had never pretended to be. They lived in a state of constant emergency.

As the descent intensified, the alarms blared. On the bridge, the screens lit up with red warnings and flashing messages: "SYSTEM ERROR," "UNSTABLE TRAJECTORY," "SUIVITY SYSTEM COMPROMISED." The lines of code scrolled by too quickly to be read, while a mechanical voice repeated relentlessly: "Imminent impact. Structural integrity at twenty percent."

The once pristine shell of the vessel began to disintegrate, with shards of metal breaking away and disappearing into the atmosphere.

With a final, piercing screech, the ship crashed onto the planet's surface, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. The crew was violently thrown from their seats, stunned but barely alive. They struggled to their feet amidst the wreckage, the ship reduced to a charred shell around them.

"Well," M said, wiping the dirt off his suit with a grimace, "at least the air is breathable." Matt scanned the hostile expanse stretching before them and smiled slightly. "Perfect. Let's hope we have better luck with the planet than with our ships."

With that, the Deadheads gathered their equipment and headed into the unknown, while the remains of their ship slowly sank into the unstable soil of the planet.

Rancid is without question one of the most successful and influential punk bands ever, not to mention being among the most prolific. Their nonstop songwriting and marathon studio sessions often result in far too many songs to fit onto their albums. True Rancid fans know that in addition to their classic long players, many of their finest tracks have been released as single B-sides, bonus tracks, on compilations, or in some cases have remained in the band's vault. That is why B sides and C sides is no mere throwaway record, but an essential part of this classic band's catalog. The songs collected here represent a cross section of everything that has made this band so beloved worldwide, including their creative genre hopping from blazing punk rock to danceable ska, to reggae, rockabilly, and more, all executed with some of the most impressive playing in the history of underground music. The songs range from fan-favorites like "I Wanna Riot" to obscure hidden gems from rare or hard-to-find compilations, and a handful of studio recordings that were completely unreleased before this album, several coming from the fertile recording sessions for the band's sprawling 1998 masterpiece Life Won't Wait. Originally released on CD in 2007, most of the tracks range from the band's early days through their sixth album, Indestructible, although the 2012 track "Fuck You," from the Pirates Press Records compilation Oi! This is Streetpunk! Volume 2 was added to place a definitive final word on the collection when it was pressed on vinyl. With the album being out of print and hard to find in its own right for the past ten years, Pirates Press Records is thrilled to partner with our friends in Rancid to remedy that situation and make this essential piece of punk rock history available to their many fans across the globe - this time as an incredible double 12" with super deluxe coloured vinyl and matching sleeve art!

American Nightmare's "Year One" collection on 180 gram vinyl for its 25th anniversary. Available again for the first time in decades. Originally released in 2001, the Boston hardcore band’s 25th anniversary release of "Year One" pays tribute to their formative years. This collection unites their first two 7”s, originally released by Bridge 9 Records founder and then-roommate Chris Wrenn, on a 180-gram LP, with all tracks recorded by Kurt Ballou at God City. Originally designed by Jake Bannon (Converge), this edition has been reimagined by Del Jae (Futurismo Records) and singer Wesley Eisold, and comes packaged in a gatefold with an insert of handwritten lyrics and collaged images. "Year One" doesn’t just celebrate a milestone; it reaffirms American Nightmare’s enduring legacy. Their music raised the bar for emotional depth in hardcore, adding a distinctly poetic and existential lyrical approach that set them apart and changed the rules of the scene, paving the way for countless bands that followed