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Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements - punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones - are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins - Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk - weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act - with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage - and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements_punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones_are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins_Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk_weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act_with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage_and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

The Heads’ Simon Price returns to his kandodo project with 'theendisinpsych'; "primitive pieces of psychedelic tuneage+years of wasted time=43 minutes of headphone bliss." It's the follow up to the 2019 collaboration with Wayne Maskell and Hugo Morgan, Kandodo 3 – K3, but this time back in solo-mode. He is now relocated in Northumbria, and has recorded the album himself in his home studio, drawing on his wide collection of music/instruments and the rural environment for inspiration. The new album fizzes and crackles with a verve that will activate the “turn on, tune in, drop out” sense in all listeners… Simon explained the album in a focused/out of focus track by track way… is this Price’s paean to his obsession with Bowie? chamba7 - octave mandolin through fuzz, tambo beat, in praise of Bowie compilations. chamba is malawian weed theendisinpsych - bought a reel to reel tape off ebay in 2005, ('Bowie radio interview tape, USA, 1970, 3 minutes?') then bought a machine to play it on in 2015. Heard the words and laid them onto a fuzzy break bed. Thought it all too relevant to today, prophetic David from his 'hippy' days (not a prophet or a stone age man) fuzzy oceans - played on 1 string spamjo, bouncing echo over 70's drum machine, 'we've fucked the oceans' freefalling - rolling cello and hissing cymbals with vocoder dreams comes with african/stationtostation artwork stylings for the sleeve..pre-apocalypse blues (and pinks), the world isn't going a good way a sumptuous 4 course sonic supper, tuck in.

Originally released in 1996 as a limited fan-club pressing for Rockathon, Guided By Voices’ Tonics And Twisted Chasers has always existed as an anomaly in Robert Pollard’s vast discography. In many ways, the album serves as the tail of a creative comet that in just two years included the “classic line-up” trilogy of Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, Under the Bushes, Under the Stars and countless singles that crammed endless hooks in their grooves. In the intervening space, Tonics And Twisted Chasers has taken on a mythic status. It’s arguably Pollard’s strangest, gnarliest, most enlightened record and also the fans first chance to see the stitches that bind his galaxy of songs. It’s like peering at the caliber inside a watch, responsible for making the whole enterprise tick. This nineteen-song collaboration with guitarist Tobin Sprout could be interpreted as spontaneous sketches, late-night improvisations, ideas that blossomed later in the timeline (“Knock ’Em Flyin’” and “Key Losers”), but as with anything in Pollard’s orbit, its intention is clear when heard as a cohesive whole. The Pollard tenet that “less is more” is on full display here. The songs rarely creep past ninety seconds and coalesce much like Pollard’s collage-styled visual art. Arena anthems in miniature (“158 Years Of Beautiful Sex”) bash up against eerie piano laments (“Universal Nurse Finger”) without any time to breathe, acoustic lullabies that sound like a Midwestern summer’s twilight (“Look It’s Baseball”) segue into monochromatic post-rock (“Maxwell Jump”). The euphoric joy and obtuse melancholy in Pollard’s voice is so palpable on the album’s standout, “Dayton, Ohio 19 Something & 5” (which has since become a live staple), that it’s impossible to find a more autobiographical yarn in his catalog. The album’s closest analog is 1993’s Vampire On Titus, as it contains that album’s prickly, dark and shimmering obfuscation that only reveals its beauty after repeated listens. Tonics And Twisted Chasers maintains the lore because the melodies are so strong. Using a primitive drum machine, Radio Shack effects, minimal instrumentation and the DIY spirit that guided them in the first place, Pollard and Sprout constructed a masterpiece of pop that could only come from a basement in north Dayton, Ohio. Anyone in that hallowed era who happened upon it, kept it as a secret.

Originally released in 1996 as a limited fan-club pressing for Rockathon, Guided By Voices’ Tonics And Twisted Chasers has always existed as an anomaly in Robert Pollard’s vast discography. In many ways, the album serves as the tail of a creative comet that in just two years included the “classic line-up” trilogy of Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, Under the Bushes, Under the Stars and countless singles that crammed endless hooks in their grooves. In the intervening space, Tonics And Twisted Chasers has taken on a mythic status. It’s arguably Pollard’s strangest, gnarliest, most enlightened record and also the fans first chance to see the stitches that bind his galaxy of songs. It’s like peering at the caliber inside a watch, responsible for making the whole enterprise tick. This nineteen-song collaboration with guitarist Tobin Sprout could be interpreted as spontaneous sketches, late-night improvisations, ideas that blossomed later in the timeline (“Knock ’Em Flyin’” and “Key Losers”), but as with anything in Pollard’s orbit, its intention is clear when heard as a cohesive whole. The Pollard tenet that “less is more” is on full display here. The songs rarely creep past ninety seconds and coalesce much like Pollard’s collage-styled visual art. Arena anthems in miniature (“158 Years Of Beautiful Sex”) bash up against eerie piano laments (“Universal Nurse Finger”) without any time to breathe, acoustic lullabies that sound like a Midwestern summer’s twilight (“Look It’s Baseball”) segue into monochromatic post-rock (“Maxwell Jump”). The euphoric joy and obtuse melancholy in Pollard’s voice is so palpable on the album’s standout, “Dayton, Ohio 19 Something & 5” (which has since become a live staple), that it’s impossible to find a more autobiographical yarn in his catalog. The album’s closest analog is 1993’s Vampire On Titus, as it contains that album’s prickly, dark and shimmering obfuscation that only reveals its beauty after repeated listens. Tonics And Twisted Chasers maintains the lore because the melodies are so strong. Using a primitive drum machine, Radio Shack effects, minimal instrumentation and the DIY spirit that guided them in the first place, Pollard and Sprout constructed a masterpiece of pop that could only come from a basement in north Dayton, Ohio. Anyone in that hallowed era who happened upon it, kept it as a secret.

While Duster went into hibernation in the year 2000, Clay Parton's four-track never stopped rolling. Recorded alone at home over several years, Birds In The Ground is an album of 30-something, post-9/11 malaise. Under his Eiafuawn (Everything Is All Fucked Up And What Not) acronym, Parton hides beneath layers of fuzzy and clean guitars, his hesitant, cottony vocal disappear into noise. This deluxe pressing is packaged in a gorgeous tip on sleeve and includes the complete lyrics for this cryptic entry of the Dusterverse.

A limited vinyl pressing of the sixth album from the classic L.A. punk ska band! On purple blast vinyl!

Right from the start when you hear Feldmann’s voice sing "Everyday is just the same" before the guitars, bass, and drums kick in on opening track "One More Time," you instantly know that Goldfinger are back as good as ever. The elements of desire, passion, and punk in those 5 words instantly tell you that Hello Destiny is going to be different to Disconnection Notice. The songs on the album go from strength to strength. From the slightly heavier song of "Handjobs For Jesus," to the upbeat Ska of "Get Up," to the sweet heartfelt acoustics of the bonus track "Julian," this is an album that will be up there with the best of the Goldfinger records. Like having sex for the first time, it will be remembered.

Last month, Chase and Status returned to the limelight unveiling their hard-hitting and trailblazing singles “When It Rains” ft. BackRoad Gee, complete with a Jack McMullen starring, Hector Dockrill-directed cinematic visual and the addictive smash “Don’t Be Scared” ft. Takura. Today, the duo are making a true statement of intent for the year ahead, with the announcement of their sixth studio album, What Came Before. Created by Crown & Owls, the accompanying artwork captures a truly special and magnetic live moment. Speaking on the concept, Crown & Owls state:

“We wanted to create an image that captured the very human compulsion to gather in a dark room and dance and sweat. Such scenes have a different weight to them after they were off the table for a good while, and we were very interested in capturing a moment of collective catharsis in the shadow of a period of history that pushed isolation on so many. We were really interested in the stories of the individuals in the image - what drives them to want to be in that room? The whole campaign kind of works backwards from that moment in the photo really - the intersecting stories of the dance floor, and the sense of freedom and release it brings to the individual. The record sleeve, the single covers, visualisers and elements of the music videos were all captured at this special night - it’s been a joy to work on.”

Landing alongside the album announcement is new single “Mixed Emotions” - a euphoric and recognisably brilliant dose of true Chase and Status energy that landed alongside an incredible video, filmed in two halves and directed by UKMVA-winning Femi Ladi (Pa Salieu - “My Family”). Femi Ladi states:

“On nights out like this, sometimes you just want to get fucked up. Trying to get to that moment, when you’re out of your head and completely in the moment. Sometimes music gets us there, sometimes drugs and alcohol, sometimes it’s a combination of all 3.

I want to connect our camera to the chasing of that high. A visual metaphor for trying to reach that euphoria. Each time she takes a bump, a line or a pill, the camera closes in on her. The closer she gets to that euphoric moment, the closer the camera gets to her.

By the end I want the audience to have an uncomfortable and claustrophobic feeling as our hero goes slightly overboard, a feeling that most of us know but won't dare to admit.”

Consisting of 13 tracks, What Came Before distills 15 years of unparalleled experiences into a bold, invigorating sixth album; informed by global tours, sold out headline shows, five albums, multiple awards, chart success, underground kudos, top tier collaborations and remixes, and, above all else, that unwavering dance floor energy that remains as tangible and transformative now as it has since the very beginning. This pure, unadulterated exhilaration is the glue that binds all of these experiences together, cultivating a legacy of positive vibes, unforgettable moments and the continued progression of British club culture.

For trailblazers Chase and Status, the story is cyclical - a constant process of regeneration and refinement that comes full circle. Everything that came before, from their inception point to now, has brought them back to their essence.

Landing in the wake of their critically acclaimed specialist album RTRN II JUNGLE, and the more recent news of their headlining ParkLife festival this Summer, Chase and Status’s musical return is highly anticipated. After a series of teasers were published on their social media, the duo directed their fans to whatcamebefore , unveiling a plethora of forthcoming Summer festival dates.

The forthcoming album marks the inception point for the duo’s next phase; while on forced hiatus they also went back to square one with their live show. With What Came Before Chase & Status prepare to embark on the next chapter of their illustrious career as a seasoned act ignited by the same excitement

Repress!
Note - Sleeve says contains a bonus CD, these represses do not have a bonus CD, they have a download card.

Hate Your Friends is the 1987 debut album by the Lemonheads, one of only three full-length releases to feature the original band line- up of Evan Dando, Ben Deily, and Jesse Peretz. The album showcases a hardcore-punk-to-pop-rock sound and sensibility as playfully fierce as it is surprising…especially to listeners who know the band only from their better-known major label recordings of the 1990s. The roots of Hate Your Friends begin with the genesis of the band itself: when high school friends Ben Deily and Evan Dando—inspired by a shared love of the 70’s absurdist comedy troupe the Firesign Theatre, literature, and punk rock—began playing their own songs together in 1985. Dando and Deily first started out as a two-piece ensemble: swapping back and forth between a shared Guild guitar (and a crappy amp) and vocal mic, and pounding a drum kit “borrowed” from the high school jazz band. With the addition of classmate and friend Jesse Peretz on bass, the two-man outfit quickly became a power trio. With a handful of original songs, a passionate love for their favourite bands—from Husker-Du, the Replacements, Black Flag and the Germs, to the Saints, Wire and ‘77 UK punk—and a tiny recording budget, the Lemonheads set about their first studio session within days of their high school graduation in June of 1986. During that summer, a significant amount of what would become the band’s debut album was recorded in Brookline, Massachusetts, with Deily and Dando sharing vocal, guitar and drumming duties. Above and beyond bass, Jesse proved pivotal as the band’s manager, booker and tireless promoter—helping arrange for the Lemonheads self-released debut EP, Laughing all the way to the cleaners, later that summer, and shortly thereafter helping establish the relationship with Curtis Casella of TAANG! records that paved the way to full-length LP Hate Your Friends. Finally, with the addition of full-time (and fairly short-lived) drummer Doug Trachten, the last songs of Hate Your Friends were recorded in the winter of 1986-7. BONUS TRACKS: This Fire Records re-issue features bonus tracks including 12 never-before-released live tracks from a 1987 radio session, rare tracks from the early compilation Crawling From Within, and additional tracks not included on the original release of Hate Your Friends (“Buried Alive” and “Gotta Stop”).

"Since 2012, New York City singer-songwriter Nate Amos (Water From Your Eyes, My Idea) has recorded and self-released hundreds of songs under the This Is Lorelei moniker, and perhaps surprisingly, after a decade plus, ""Box for Buddy, Box for Star"" marks the first attempt at a traditional, intentionally written full-length album. Amos describes the bulk of This Is Lorelei’s discography as “unedited diary entries,” written and recorded without much forethought, regard for genre or reverence for albums as thematic bodies of work, so oddly enough, ""Box for Buddy, Box for Star"" is both a fresh start and the culmination of years of diligent, interesting songwriting.

""Box for Buddy, Box for Star"" embraces traditional pop songcraft and a confessional, carefully written brand of lyricism, dabbling in the kind of classic singer-songwriter cliches he never imagined toying with—but not without the counterbalancing force of shitpost-y irony, which listeners have come to expect from Amos. Inspired by the gritty romanticism of Shane MacGowan and the Jim Croce mimicry of Tim Heidecker’s ""What the Brokenhearted Do…"", the LP exudes both a grizzled charm and youthful intensity. Sonically, Amos adorns the record with quaint country gestures—a full-circle artistic choice for Amos whose father is a veteran bluegrass musician.

And it wouldn’t be a Nate Amos release without a few curveballs, like “Dancing in the Club,” a bouncy auto-tuned pop song, which he likens to Bruce Hornsby-via-Blink-182, or “Perfect Hand,” an intimate piano-led track with vocal samples, alarm bell-like effects and skittering electronic beats. He also mischievously opens the album with a red herring of sorts, “Angel’s Eye,” a twangy sci-fi country duet about an angel who abducts a cowboy and unintentionally falls in love."

Upchuck are experiencing a moment. The Atlanta punk collective just came off multiple tour runs with their good friend Faye Webster. Their Ty Segall-produced second album Bite The Hand That Feeds, with all its buzzsaw guitars and high-speed rippers and headbanging sludge, arrived in October. Later this year, they’ll make appearances at multiple festivals including Coachella. In the midst of relentlessly barreling ahead, the band and their label Famous Class are taking a beat to revisit how they got here. After working with Segall on Bite the Hand That Feeds, the band floated the notion that they wished they could hear what their collaborator could do with the songs on their 2022 debut album Sense Yourself. Holed up in his studio over Christmas with COVID and nothing else to do, Ty Segall began toying with Sense Yourself, sifting through folders of unlabeled stems to find the best guitar parts, emboldening the drum sound, and bringing greater clarity to KT’s vocals, all while bolstering the urgency of the band’s overall attack. With Segall’s new mix, Upchuck’s intense and righteous debut now impossibly overflows with even more fuzz and fury. In Segall, they found a kindred spirit whose studio approach made sense for just how hard they wanted this music to hit. “When we first went to record with Ty for Bite the Hand That Feeds, Mikey and I walked into the guitar room and Ty said, ‘Don’t touch the EQs.’ We looked at the amp and everything was on 10 except the master volume,” Hoff said. Previously, the band had been encouraged to capture the unvarnished sound of the studio. They’d toured with Segall’s band Fuzz, so everybody had the same goal while recording together: Capture the electricity of their intense live set. The band’s shows have a reputation for coming unglued, and there’s no greater document of that than Sense Yourself’s iconic album artwork. With no text, it’s a candid photo of a moment from a show shot on film without editing: blood streaked across KT’s face as they shout into the mic. In the middle of their EP release show, KT was in the pit as a fan started crowd surfing inside a shopping cart. A loose piece of metal near a wheel caught the singer right near the eyebrow and blood was everywhere, an instant piece of iconography snapped by probably every camera phone in the room. When Hoff revisits the message of this first album and Upchuck’s first songs, he thinks back to the year before the band even started when he and KT were hanging out. “We were sitting around talking for eight hours like ‘fuck, that's fucked up, that's fucked up.’” Upchuck became a vehicle for these five people to process how fucked up everything it is—to digest these formative hours-long conversations and put them to bludgeoning, intense rock music. The music is also fun as hell, and that’s part of the point. “There's a lot we need to do as people and a lot of things we need to fix in society but also like come on man like have your fun, wild out, have your drink,” KT says. “But be on your shit at the same time. Check your folk.”

"Everything's been fucked since David Bowie died or they started up the Hadron Collider" say The Janitors. This feeling is epitomised in the title of their riveting new album: An Error Has Occurred. Marking over two decades of activity for the Swedish psych-rockers, the recording is informed by heartbreak and loss as well as the dismal state of the entire planet. For The Janitors, these two polarities intertwine constantly: "What's personal is political and vice versa." To channel their frustration and anger, the band revived certain songs they'd shelved during the pandemic when working on the acclaimed Noisolation Sessions. They added others, written since, that suited the mood of sticking a middle finger up to the oppressive world around us. Whereas previous recordings were often layered up gradually, this time the full band (Henric Herlenius, Jonas Eriksson, Anders Thorell and Wilhelm Tengdahl) rehearsed intensely together before laying down everything live, over two days and nights, in a converted missionary church. The songs on Side A have the menace of Melvins, the swagger of The Stooges and the cosmic heft of The Heads. These are the more simply constructed and poppier pieces... or so the band believe. (One friend of theirs did consider this "delusional".) 'In A Bliss' acts as the album's radiant centrepiece. A palette-cleansing love song which recalls The Jesus And Mary Chain at their most starry eyed, it finds The Janitors searching for solace and strength in straightforward companionship. After this come the dronier numbers, drawn out with soundscapes and textures influenced by The Velvet Underground's sonic experiments and the equally immersive atmospheres of electronic acts like Massive Attack. Hence, 'Operator' swings threateningly like a space-rock Swans, while the approach on 'Farewell Spacegirl' is jazzier and more meditative. "It can be hard to muster up some, or even any, positive energy at this point in time," says Henric. "We are eternally grateful to have the creative output that this constellation gives us. Neither me or Jonas would probably be here, or be the same people we are, if it wasn't for The Janitors. We'll leave you with a quote from an old anarchist: 'Every society gets the criminals it deserves.'"

December 2012 I showed up totally exhausted in Vancouver BC after touring stupidly and relentlessly for however many straight months and got a job at a call centre raising money for the Red Cross. It was a scent free office but one time this woman cooked a piece of fish in the microwave for 10 minutes on low and hot boxed the whole office - we got sent home early no pay. There was the other woman I named the Call Centre Coltrane because her pitch and routine usually involved improvised flights of fancy that went off in both directions at once somehow landing back down with a credit card number and a donation. I used to sleep under the desk. I was there a few months and at the time I reconnected with John Brennan who I had played with briefly in Montreal at the Mutek Festival. In Montreal John was running an experimental music night at a burrito shop downtown called Garbage Night. While in Vancouver I began connecting with the music scene there and would go hang out with the Shearing Pinx lads who I think lived with Sydney the bass player at the time. I knew Nic and Jer from an AIDS Wolf Tour and was so stoked to get to know them both better. I really fell in love with that era of Vancouver's music scene.
Fast Forward to today. 2024
Actually it was the dying days of 2023 but you get it and John asks if I'll sit in with Earth Ball and I keep thinking about Earth Balance, the vegan butter everyone eats here. I brought my aching bones and my ipads on the beautiful ferry named the Queen of Oak Bay and out to Nanaimo BC, home of the nanaimo bar (a dessert treat - special to this region - that seems to be more popularly found under the weird glass sneeze guards in office building deli's out east in Ontario.... anyhoops ). No one in Nanaimo wants to talk to me about the famous treat. I asked a couple of people. Silence. Nanaimo is like London, Ontario but more fried and by the sea. The town is filled with blown out old sea dawgs with tin coffee pots and loose leaf tobacco, then there's the usual streetfolk you find in this part of the Canadian Pacific Northwest and a bunch of bohemians who I guess have left Vancouver behind - that fine city having become uninhabitable for those not making over 100k a year. And then up the way are all the retirees.
Yup Nanaimo is a strange one. They mined the shit out of this region and Nanaimo is surely haunted by those buried in mining shafts or maimed by the heavy machinery or blown up by accident in the explosives store house. And when Earth Ball fire up the amps in Izzy and Jer's basement you can hear the voices of the ghosts hum through electrical lines and out the speakers, Kellen's hued feedback, Izy's sturdy basslines, Jer's paperbag guitar tone and rumble pack zaps, Liam's (aka the Kid) sheets of sound and Brennen's multidirectional drums.
You wouldn't guess Earth Ball was auto-composing and from what my rat brain can tell - the lyrics are improvised too...Improvising lyrics and singing them is the hardest thing to do in all of music.. Izzy and Jer are pros. And their attitudes are pro too.
The live show is scorched and without naming names they've been known to make headliners nervous. Lucky ones will get to see them live as they tour this beast of a record entitled ‘It’s Yours’ (out May 17th on Upset The Rhythm) and I hope I'm one of them.
But now you, fan of fun but totally fucked up music, have the opportunity to Ball with them thanks to Upset The Rhythm. Enjoy
-Alex Moskos, Montreal QC, Feb 2024

Although a five-piece live and with too many contributors on record to list, Serena-Maneesh nevertheless essentially remains the work of Emil Nikolaisen. Born in the remote village of Moi into a musical family (sisters Hilma and Elvira often play with the band), Emil is Norwegian rock royalty. It’s hard to find a Norwegian band that Emil hasn’t either played with or produced, and he’s also been nominated for a Spellemannsprisen, the Norwegian equivalent of a Grammy. He’s not just influential in his home country either, having released a split single with Fucked Up, worked with Sufjan Stevens, and been invited to share stages with The Dandy Warhols, Nine Inch Nails and Oasis. In 2008, Smalltown Supersound originally released this glimpse of Serena-Maneesh's early days. Tweaked and all beautifully pushed to the red. Most of the material on SM-Backwards was released as two EPs prior to Serena-Maneesh's much lauded debut album; "Zurück" and "Fixxations" both on Hype City and Honeymilk Records, covering the time 1999-2003. Due to the fact that the labels didn't have international distribution, the material never got released outside of Norway. In addition to the original EP material, this vinyl reissue also contains new re-wrappings/mixes with contributions from Anton Newcombe of Brian Jonestown Massacre, Kramer and others from the universe surrounding Serena-Maneesh.

The Cat's Miaow return to World Of Echo with Skipping Stones: The Cassette Years '92-'93, their second compilation for the imprint, and the fourth in a loosely defined series of reissues associated with the group (also including The Shapiros' Gone By Fall: The Collected Works of The Shapiros and Hydroplane's Selected Songs 1997-2003). It's a smart selection of songs by one of Australia's finest independent pop music groups, whose initial run, across the nineties, was as mysterious as it was bewitching. A generous double album featuring thirty-five songs drawn from The Cat's Miaow's history, Skipping Stones lets listeners in on a bunch more secrets. The four cassettes that Skipping Stones draws from - Little Baby Sour Puss, Pet Sounds (both 1992), From My Window, and How Did Everything Get So Fucked Up (both 1993) - were released or assisted by Toytown, a Melbourne cassette label of rare taste, savvy and intelligence. Diving into that two-year period, Skipping Stones is full of surprises, rich with unexpected and inspired detours, while reminding everyone just how clear and distinct The Cat's Miaow's music was from the very start. Looking in from the outside, they always felt like a group that knew just what they were doing, but intuitive as they are, they weren't forcing anything: these songs always sound exactly what they need to be, rough edges, playful moments and all. The Cat's Miaow may have been bedroom dreamers, but their songs were richly informed, with the sweetest of girl-pop moves sashaying into walls of tremolo-d and distorted guitar, jangling six strings tangling with melodic bass that's pure Peter Hook/Naomi Yang, while the gentle trickle of a drum machine or the earthy twitch of brushes on drum skins provided the spine for Kerrie's and Bart's lovely, unforced singing. This double LP on World Of Echo feels like the very core of the thing - some of the most heartbreakingly beautiful, effortlessly lush and deeply moving pop music you're likely to hear. RIYL: Hydroplane, The Cannanes, Magnetic Fields, Belle and Sebastian, Jesus and Mary Chain

King Of Blue by Yes Indeed sees Laurie Tompkins and Otto Wilberg take their eclectic stance on cosmic jazz and electronics to further uncharted and dreamlike territory, encompassing a unique logic of what is harmoniously absurdist.

King of Blue by Yes Indeed sees members Laurie Tompkins and Otto Willberg further dive into their melismatic take on cosmic jazz and new electronics, by way of their highly eclectic and at times nonsensically sensical modus operandi. Their work is defined by an eloquent flurry of ideas, spheres, and signifiers, creating a musical universe of surprising longevity and depth. Treating musical convention with gentle disdain, Yes Indeed take on a variety of genres and moods and switch them around into a beautifully melismatic and dreamlike state of being. King Of Blue is a mini- album of fragmented beauty and warmth. It puts the illogical center stage and gives space to abruptly miniaturist musical ideas, allowing them to take on a meaning bigger than one would expect. It is cosmic music for modern times. A brazen descent into the execution of a fundamentally diversified musical stance.

'Yes Indeed' are Laurie Tompkins & Otto Willberg. Live, they play keys, bouncy bass and sing over tactile, emotive samples. Their music is epic and also somehow wrong, with space for delicacy, straight-up joy and soaring licks. Since 2022’s ‘Rotten Luck’ - their first proper album, on Bison - YI have played across the UK and Europe. Solo, Laurie co-ran the Slip label and has put out CDs on Entr’acte, 33-33 and Hyperdelia. Otto is a roaming bassist in groups like Historically Fucked and Abstract Concrete and his LP of “wildly singular, wickedly trippy and sensual set of fusion jams” (Boomkat) was recently out on Black Truffle.

***After birthing Street Riffs, their hi-definition, hi-energy, statement from 2020, CCR Headcleaner turned inward. The retreat from the pro-studio to the home studio was partially by design and partially decided by global events. Cleaner is very much a pandemic album, more of a homespun head trip than its predecessors. At the same time guitarist, songwriter and spiritual center of the group, Lacey Emmanuel, left the Bay for the shores of Lake Michigan. By most accounts an apocalyptic live-band became by and large a home recording animal. This is most apparent when Headcleaner turns up the balladry. “Don’t Feel the End” is a proto-metal campfire anthem, and “Everyday” hovers somewhere between keyboard misfit John Bender and the White Album. Make no mistake, the record will still be filed under “Punk” at your local record shop. It kicks off with “the brining pt. 2” the hottest slice of Funhouse free-rock that the band has committed to record. “Too Much” gives us its jail abolition rap over a two chord hardcore stomp. In a town (San Francisco) that is experiencing something of a DIY pop renaissance, Headcleaner has always fought to establish the fact that they have actual songs. This is no 70s throwback, but instead an attempt to up the ante. Without all the rock histrionics, technical arrogance and misogyny can the rock riff deliver on its ultimate promise: heavy music for total liberation. All tracks were mixed and lovingly fucked with by none other than Eric Bauer at his Bauer Mansion (RIP) Chinatown SF.

"Richard Edwards is in the pocket. He’s been there for several albums now: 2017’s Lemon Cotton Candy Sunset, 2020’s The Soft Ache & the Moon, and 2022’s Ghost Electricity/Vampire Draw. Just as the Margot records defined his twenties, this “Beach Bum” era, as he calls it, may well define his thirties. That era is expanded in Two Sad Little Islands Drift Together, Two Lonely Little Monkeys Find A Tree: Rare and Unreleased 2015-2023.

Beginning with Lemon Cotton Candy Sunset, Richard has been steering his ongoing body of work toward capturing a feeling of being at sea. Life can find us at sea in any number of ways–in a marriage or partnership, or in longing for one; in parenting, and its ceaseless wonders and worries; in bodies and minds that confound understanding (whether just our own, or also that of professionals); in our rotting world, which we’ve fucked up beyond all repair.

“What does that sound like, though?” you may ask. Like Mike Bloom’s cascading fingerpicking in “Lil Dead Eye-d (b.),” or the tranquilizing combination of Dave Palmer’s piano and Perla Batalla’s multi-tracked vocals on “Love (b.)” Like the L.A. based Section Quartet on “True Love Waits,” or the triumphantly stoned Velvet Ocean jam-session that is “Jane Greer With A Gun.” Like Richard’s use of melody and imagery on “Pink Lightning (b.)” and lead single “Benzedrine,” where he is masterfully accompanied by Erin Rae (on the former) and Maria Taylor (on the latter).

Unlike Richard’s past archival releases which have often featured home demo recordings, everything on Two Sad Little Islands has been produced in-studio. With this 3-LP vinyl set, Richard presents just over two hours of material that once again makes his case as one of the “most underrated songwriters of our time” (LA Review of Books)."

Limited edition 666 copies including insert and vomit orange colored vinyl. Ball is back from the grave! Wasted and slimy Swedish heavy psych speed freak power-trio. Dionysian fuck ‘n’ roll soaked in diabolical occult havoc. Drugged and toxic. Funky-proto-metal with a solid groove. Fucked-up, subhuman fuzz guitars. Depraved, screaming vocals. Gut-rumbling bass and caveman groove drums. This is hard rock from hell. “...this is what black metal would sound like if it was from Detroit ’68.” --Jus Oborn (Electric Wizard) Parental advisory – inside contains XXX-rated content. Buy at your own risk!

4LP is four black vinyl discs in two gatefold jackets + two 18 x 24 folded posters in a side-load slipcase + a printed insert for full album download. This is strictly for Indies only. 2CD is two discs in a six panel wallet + a 28 page booklet + printed insert. Misfits & Mistakes: Singles, B-sides & Strays 2007–2023 is Superchunk’s fourth singles compilation, a massive, 4-LP (or 2-CD) collection covering their triumphant return from hiatus. The amount of ground covered within its gorgeous packaging is staggering: 50 songs, 16 of which are on physical media for the first time, sourced from out-of-print releases, digital singles, compilations, and more, a vital piece of the Superchunk canon. Featuring extensive liner notes by Mac McCaughan (with additional notes from Laura Ballance), Misfits & Mistakes tells the story of each release, from why they chose to cover songs by The Misfits, The Cure, Destiny’s Child, and Bananarama, to working with collaborators like Katie Crutchfield (Waxahatchee), Jane Wiedlin (The Go-Go’s), Eleanor Friedberger, Damian Abraham (Fucked Up), Norman Blake and Raymond McGinley (Teenage Fanclub), and more! Mac writes: Who knew it would take a cartoon hamburger to kick off a new period of activity for Superchunk? When we recorded “Misfits and Mistakes” for the Aqua Teen Hunger Force soundtrack at Overdub Lane in Durham, we also recorded the first version of “Learned to Surf” which gave us an on-ramp for making new music after 8 years of playing sporadic gigs. It also reminded us what we liked about playing Superchunk songs, whether they’re our own or written by our musical heroes. This collection covers a lot of ground, from heavy touring years to a pandemic where we made singles and an album at home. One difference between this comp and our first three is that this time span completely falls in the digital age; the distance from a final mix to everyone hearing it is shorter than ever. I’ve always liked artists that were prolific—throwing out singles in between albums when you least expect it. A surprise release from your favorite band is one of the few things that can still bring a little excitement to what can seem like an endless deluge of “content” (puke). Hopefully the wild swings between lo & hi fi and originals and covers on this comp still allow for some coherence and, more
importantly, convey what’s FUN about this punk rock thing.

Eight decades in and Charles Hayward (This Heat, Camberwell Now) isn’t slowing down, he’s picking up the pace. Following on from a sensational string of gigs and festival performances, his latest endeavour - Abstract Concrete - is now primed to release this astounding self-titled debut via state51 Conspiracy.

The band features the luminous cast of Agathe Max (Mésange, UKAEA) on viola, Otto Willberg (Yes Indeed, Historically Fucked) on bass, Roberto Sassi (Snorkel, Glenn Branca) on guitar, Yoni Silver (Hyperion Ensemble, Steve Noble) on keyboards and, of course, Charles himself on drums and vocals. With this undeniable experimental pedigree, it’ll likely come as one hell of a surprise that this group are now responsible for one of the most persuasive and hook-laden avant pop albums of the year.

LP SHIPPING ONLY / CD DELAYED “This is definitely the most honest and mature record Deathchant has ever made.” That’s Deathchant vocalist and guitarist T.J. Lemieux talking about the band’s third and latest album, Thrones. Think of it as not just the follow-up to 2021’s Waste, but the other side of the coin. “While Waste and our self-titled album touched on similar themes, they were sort of from a problem standpoint,” he explains. “Thrones is full of reflection, self-realization, and solutions for moving forward and conquering those problems.” Which isn’t to say that Deathchant have gone soft. Far from it, dude. In fact, Thrones just might be their heaviest record thus far. The band’s seamless swirl of classic rock guitar harmonies, syrupy sludge, blues boogie and psych bombast has reached a thrilling new apex as Lemieux spins high-powered tales of reckoning from beyond the wall of sanity. Thematically, Lemieux and his bandmates—bassist George Camacho, guitarist Doug Stuckey and drummer Joe Herzog—peel back the veneer of self-delusion to expose the fork in the road. “Thrones is meant to represent things that rule you, things you worship, things you rely on or think you need,” Lemieux says. “Sometimes those things make you feel in control, safe, on top of the world like you're in power—which over time often proves untrue.” Witness lead single “Mirror”: Kicking off with gleaming Lizzy-isms, the song rumbles into a thick groove overlaid with lysergic fireworks that conjure the shaggy European movers of decades past. “‘Mirror’ is the key to the whole Thrones theme,” Lemieux explains. “It’s about looking inward to realize what's ruling you, what's consuming you, and how delusional you've been about those things. Your sense of self is so damn important, and fully facing your truths is not an easy thing to do. It’s admitting that you’ve intentionally dulled and quieted your mind to distract, avoid and run from yourself, from memory, from loss and truth. At some point, you have to face that shit.” The languid and dreamy “Mother Mary” is also crucial to Thrones’ trajectory. “If the album was a book, ‘Mirror’ would be the first chapter and ‘Mother Mary’ would be the last chapter, though they’re not the first and last track for sonic reasons,” Lemieux explains. “‘Mirror’ is saying, ‘I’m looking inward because some things need to change,’ while ‘Mother Mary’ is saying, ‘Okay, things are fucked and have gone way too far but now we have this understanding—and acknowledging things is key to overcoming.’” Thrones was recorded live in a cabin in the remote mountain community of Frazier Park, CA, with trusty engineer Steve Schroeder (a.k.a. Schroeds). “We moved in for a week, rehearsed a bit and went for it,” Lemieux says. “Each tune got three or so takes, but we nailed ‘Mother Mary’ and ‘Canyon’ right away.” Overdubs were done at the cabin, Schroeder’s Studio 3, and Lemieux’s place. The album was produced by Lemieux and Schroeder. “Overall, it’s a pretty dark record,” Lemieux says. “It's serious and leans into heavy themes, sometimes using metaphor and imagery to soften those blows, but sometimes it hits direct. It’s positive, though—and cathartic. Forever riding on the line of total insanity and flirting with mental degradation. It’s our most realized and ambitious record to date.”

Well, we're two full months into 2017 and the world continues to burn like an avalanche of flaming biohazard material sliding down a mountain of used needles into a canyon full of rat feces. But hey, it's not all bad: Portugal. The Man has a new album coming out called Woodstock.


PTM's last album came out over three years ago—a long gap for a band who've dropped roughly an album a year since 2006. And in true, prolific band fashion, they've spent almost every minute since 2013 working on an album called Gloomin + Doomin. They created a shit-ton of individual songs, but as a whole, none of them hung together in a way that felt right. Then John Gourley, PTM's lead singer, made a trip home to Wasilla, Alaska, (Home of Portugal. The Man's biggest fan, Sarah Palin) and two things happened that completely changed the album's trajectory.

First, John got some parental tough love from his old man, who called John on the proverbial carpet or dogsled or whatever you put people on when you want to yell at them in Alaska. What's taking so long to finish the album' John's dad said. Isn't that what bands do Write songs and then put them out' Like fathers and unlicensed therapists tend to do, John's dad cut him deep. The whole thing started John thinking about why the band seemed to be stuck on a musical elliptical machine from hell and, more importantly, about how to get off of it.

Second, fate stuck its wiener in John's ear again when he found his dad's ticket stub from the original 1969 Woodstock music festival. It seems like a small thing, but talking to his dad about Woodstock '69 knocked something loose in John's head. He realized that, in the same tradition of bands from that era, Portugal. The Man needed to speak out about the world crumbling around them. With these two ideas converging, the band made a seemingly bat-shit-crazy decision: they took all of the work they had done for the three years prior and they threw it out.

It wasn't easy and there was the constant threat that the band's record label might have them killed, but the totally insane decision paid off. With new, full-on, musical boners, the band went back to the studio—working with John Hill (In The Mountain In The Cloud), Danger Mouse (Evil Friends), Mike D (Everything Cool), and longtime collaborator Casey Bates (The one consistent producer since the first record). In this new-found creative territory, the album that became Woodstock rolled out naturally from there.

Remember that mountain of burning needles we were talking about Good. Because Woodstock is an album (Including the new single Feel It Still') that—with optimism and heart—points at the giant pile and says, Hey, this pile is fucked up!' And if you think that pile is fucked up too, you owe it to yourself—hell, to all of us—to get out there and do something about it.

Originally a solo project led by Toronto-based producer Josh Korody (known for his work with Tess Parks, Dilly Dally, Fucked Up, Weaves, Dirty Nil, Beliefs), Breeze has since evolved into a full band following their debut performance for KEXP Live At Home Sessions.

"Sour Grapes" is a new wave - britpop inspired album was recorded by Korody at his Candle Recording studio, at Hotel 2 Tango with Shae Brossard, and mastered by Mark Gardiner of RIDE. "Sour Grapes" marks an exciting direction for this anticipated full-length and full band follow up.

"a fun, referential mix that celebrates the idealized hedonism of his favorite records" - PITCHFORK

"a rising electro-psych artist makes a bold new impression" - CLASH

"a playful mix of shoegaze, Britpop, and disco" - NEW & NOTABLE / DAILY BANDCAMP

"frenetically fun album - energetic and eclectic" - SONG OF THE DAY / KEXP

"an intriguing ambience that meshes disco with post-punk" - STEREOGUM FOR FANS OF: Happy Mondays, Gang of Four, Wire, Gorillaz, Nation Of Language, Shame, Slowthai, Fontaines D.C.

Portland-based Kevin Palmer returns to blundar with his Best Available Technology for another release (having previously been featured on cassette). This time it’s on vinyl but still messing about with the same business of constructing and deconstructing head-nodding beats into a foggy bowl of ambience that has become the trademark sound of BAT.

Initially inspired and influenced by the sound-worlds created by Hank Shocklee, BDP and KDAY, Palmer spent his formative years combing pawn shops for samplers. This kicked off his self-described obsessive compulsive work crunching out impossibly naive and obviously unschooled jams in what might have been and continues to be an attempt to capture and document something he felt when listening to the bombastic sonic collages of early hip hop.

Going backwards in order to go forward could be an apt mantra to describe the philosophy behind BAT. Often attached with labels like nostalgia and melancholy, Palmer surely deals with the longing for that perfect time capsule of N.Y. hip hop in the 90s - but where others zoning in on that era simply imitate it, Palmer goes way further into a world of his own making.

Far removed in both time and place to the outskirts of Portland, the sonics of Palmer filters through an outsider’s perspective, sometimes offering a personal journal of the here and now via field recordings from skateparks and surfing trips.

As if one would imagine looking slightly to the left of what was supposedly going on, these tracks continuously shift one's focus. That funky feel good beat is there, but almost always just out of grasp. Palmer gives us the sound of a memory slipping away.

Yet this reads not as the end of something, but rather a stepping stone into a world of possibilities. Operating at the outskirts of genre, you could imagine anything from dub, hip hop, ambient or techno to emerge and crystalize from the haze, yet it never does. This is all those things and nothing. Or maybe it’s just some “sad fucked up funk” as Palmer puts it.

ANTI- Records is honored to share a never-before-heard album by Mark Linkous of Sparklehorse titled Bird Machine. Originally recorded in 2010 and mixed by Mark Hamilton (who also worked on It"s A Wonderful Life), Mark"s brother Matt notes "great care has been taken to archive and preserve Mark"s music.

We are very thankful for Mark and the beauty he brought to this world." Sparklehorse was an American indie rock band formed by singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Mark Linkous in the mid-1990s.

Born on September 9, 1962, in Arlington, Virginia, Linkous began playing music as a teenager. Described as an artist who "compelled listeners to heed the beauty of darkness" by Pitchfork, Sparklehorse released many influential records, including the renowned albumsn Vivadixiesubmarinetransmissionplot and Good Morning Spider in the "90s, It"s A Wonderful Life and Dreamt for Light Years in the Belly of a Mountain in the early aughts, and a collaborative album Dark Night of the Soul released in 2010.

Throughout his career Mark collaborated with thought provoking artists like Vic Chesnutt, Daniel Johnston, Tom Waits, Danger Mouse, and David Lynch.

While Mark recorded in various studios, collaborating with other musicians and producers, he did much of his work in his home studio, Static King, often playing and recording everything on his own. He was "very much kind of a working-class guy with a very poetic sensibility, who was drawn to artists like himself, who worked in isolation," said NPR Fresh Air"s Ken Tucker.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce The Leisure Principle, a new solo LP from London-based bassist and sound artist Otto Willberg. A key player in the London underground, Willberg is often heard on acoustic and electric bass in free improv settings and bands with Laurie Tompkins (Yes Indeed) and Charles Hayward (Abstract Concrete), as well as the fractured No Wave unit Historically Fucked. His previous solo releases have ranged from extended technique double bass to explorations of the acoustics of a 19th century artillery fort. But nothing Willberg has committed to wax so far prepares a listener for The Leisure Principle, six unashamedly melodic improvisational workouts created almost entirely with heavily filtered bass harmonica and electric bass. On the opening ‘Reap What Thou Sow’, a single-note bass harmonica loop pulses along underneath a roaming bass solo, the side-chained envelope filtering (where the dynamic behaviour of the bass determines the filter for both bass and harmonica) fusing the two instruments into a single stream of burbling shifts in resonance. After several minutes of patient exploration of this low-end landscape, the music suddenly opens up in widescreen with the entrance of Sam Andreae’s graceful melodica chords, spreading out across the stereo field. From this epic opener, each of the remaining pieces goes on to explore a slightly different aspect of the terrain. On ‘Shadow Came into the Eyes as Earth Turned on its Axis’, a similarly buoyant harmonica bass line provides the foundation, but this time playing a soulful descending riff, its almost R&B feel abstracted and half-obscured by the filtering. On ‘Mollusk’, echoed bass arpeggios skitter between elegiac chords somewhat reminiscent of the opening of John Abercrombie’s ‘Timeless’, before settling into a hypnotic groove. On the record’s second half, Willberg pushes further into the possibilities of his idiosyncratic instrumentation. On ‘Wetter’, bass and harmonica come together into a monstrous, growling jaw harp; on ‘Had we but world enough and more time’, the subtly shifting pulsating patterns start to feel almost like a kind of evaporated, drum-less dub techno until an eruption of wheezing bass harmonica gives the piece a comically folkish turn. Willberg’s melodically inventive and virtuosic bass performance calls to mind any number of fusion touchstones, from Jaco Pastorius to Mark Egan’s singing tone in the early Pat Metheny Group—even Anthony Jackson’s work with Steve Kahn. But with its radically reduced instrumentation, The Leisure Principle is also an exercise in minimalism, and the absence of percussion gives even its funkiest moments a strangely abstracted quality. At times, its uncanny blend of the abstruse and the immediate suggests the fried pop experiments of David Rosenboom or the skewed but deeply musical DIY of 80s underground groups like De Fabriek. Both easy on the ear and profoundly strange, The Leisure Principle proudly takes its place among the most eccentric offerings on the Black Truffle menu.

The story of Existence dates back to 2016 when a group of young Stockholm hardcore heads wanted to get into some good old Cro-Mags worship. After some changes in personnel, the current line-up of deranged idiots has been paving the way for a violent future since early 2017. They currently share members with several other bands, including Blood Sermon and Speedway and are all active in the local DIY community in different ways, for example running Alive and Well Fest. With an EP under their belt in 2018, several tours across Europe and beyond, as well as appearances on such stages as Outbreak, the sound began to evolve leading up to the masterpiece that is the debut LP, ‘Go to Heaven’. Clocking in at nearly 40 minutes we don't think anyone can truly be prepared for this insanely epic body of work. From Slayer, to Merauder, to H8000, to Arkangel to Integrity, this is a masterclass in metallic hardcore songwriting by the strong beating heart of Stockholm HC. Songs that take you on a journey from a classic metallic breakdown riff to acoustic guitar sections to sword samples needed a hand that was not afraid of the complexity, leading to Jonah Falco of Fucked Up on mixing duties giving this the depth that it deserved. At times introspective, and at other times classic brute force, the themes of the lyrics are well summed up with the painted artwork by Nora Löwenberg of a face behind shattered glass, exploring the multifaceted nature of humanity and the ever changing place of the self in today’s global world. So if this all sounds like your kind of hardcore, then listening to this LP will truly be… heaven.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Proud internet motormouth and Pittsburgh mainstay Thomas Cox finally returns with a second release on his QED Recordings label. The tracks were made in February and were road-tested over DEMF weekend. Each one, he says, was made on hardware in one take, so they have a naturally rugged edge and dynamic feel that makes them all the more real.

'Desire Paths' again betrays his love of Omar-S with its layers of grimy drums and perc and distant cosmic chords, while 'Thunderhead' has a busted drum funk feel akin to Theo Parrish's famously fucked up work. Another worthy outing from Cox, then,

Hitler Bad, Vandals Good ist das bahnbrechende Album von The Vandals auf dem Punkrock-Label Nitro Records. Die kalifornische Band veröffentlichte 1998 ihr bisher kommerziell erfolgreichstes Album, das die Single My Girlfriend’s Dead”, die Fan-Favoriten Idea for a Movie” und People That Are Going To Hell” sowie eine Coverversion von So Long, Farewell” enthält. Zum 25-jährigen Jubiläum ab dem 21.07 als limitierte blaue 1LP verfügbar.

RAR001 was featured in Resident Advisor's Best music of July list

RANT & RAVE
An enigmatic new sound is oozing out of your speakers. Seemingly self-tasked with reviving the essence of the techno rave style, Rant & Rave Records presents the world with an updated vision that sounds exactly like it should. Based in Berlin, the techno epicenter, It's a dangerous new label, unafraid to stir things up and break the rules. Run by Tresor resident and Sonic Groove recording artist Maedon, the label intends to inject some hard-hitting fun back into the techno underground. About to be revealed; EPs from Maedon, Lady Starlight, JoeFarr (of Turbo fame), and veteran industrial techno guru Mark Crumby, (aka Codex Empire, Konstruktivitis). Look for Rant & Rave records this summer at all fine record shops.


RAR 001
Berlin-based American expat Maedon (Tresor, Sonic Groove) ushers in the arrival of Rant & Rave Records with a slickly produced debut EP entitled 'Cease and Desist'. '1989' opens with booming kicks, driving mechanical percussion, and hallelujah samples interspersed throughout. The droning rave synths sound eerily akin to kamikaze dive bombers heading directly for your brain. 'Grandstand' and the title track 'Cease and Desist' continue in this direction, abundant with hypnotic electronics and relentless energy. On 'The Worlds So', Maedon shares her thoughts on the state of world current events with looped vocals 'The worlds so fucked... all we can do is dance'. Gritty, dark rave tracks for peak time workout that provide a nice blueprint of what to expect from this label. No prisoners taken.

The Search for God is a wake-up call for a troubled world that’s still worth saving, animated by a belief in the power of small connections to add up to big changes. At 10 songs delivered in a brief 15 minutes, Jimmy Whispers’ long-awaited sophomore album feels present in a way that feels brand new for the cult auteur. Like many of us, Jimmy has been affected by the pressure of the past few years. After embracing sobriety in 2019, and now as a filmmaker sharing the stories of lesser known Los Angeles community members, he’s brought his dreaming down to earth, while turning its direction even further out.

Recorded with his longtime friend Ziyad Asrar of the band Whitney (and re-recorded after a hard drive incident destroyed the original files), The Search for God was created in the wake of Jimmy’s COVID isolation, and returns to some teen influences that are out of step with the chill/lo-fi LA indie rock scene he’s found himself lumped in with. Created mostly with two vintage synths, a single Roland CR5000 drum machine, and a busted karaoke machine, it channels Midwestern emo, the Beach Boys’ Smile, subtle nods at hyper-pop production, and forgotten jewel-box era college radio of the early aughts into a pure pop sound that transcends easy categorization.

The album’s standout single—and its statement of purpose—is “Hellscape,” which packs more into a minute and 40 seconds than you’d think possible: multiple immediately-unforgettable hooks, kaleidoscopic keyboards, and a bracing reminder that even the most transcendent moments are rooted in a world full of suffering. “This is a fucking hellscape,” Jimmy sings. “This is real life / this is happening.”

That may sound like punk nihilism, but The Search for God is anything but. Every lyrical acknowledgment of how fucked things are right now comes with a promise that we can still make positive changes. Jimmy calls it “God”; you might call it Love or Peace or A Place In the Universe That Makes Some Kind of Sense.

Will The Search for God deliver whatever that is to you? Of course not. At its heart, it’s still just a really good pop album. But maybe that’s enough. For a minute or two at a time, Jimmy’s music cracks open a space where the divine can enter our lives. The utopia we’ve all been dreaming of is already here if we’re just willing to build it. Jimmy Whispers is there, ready to add his voice, whenever we want to reach out.

While Duster went into hibernation in the year 2000, Clay Parton's four-track never stopped rolling. Recorded alone at home over several years, Birds In The Ground is an album of 30-something, post-9/11 malaise. Under his Eiafuawn (Everything Is All Fucked Up And What Not) acronym, Parton hides beneath layers of fuzzy and clean guitars, his hesitant, cottony vocal disappear into noise. This deluxe pressing is packaged in a gorgeous tip on sleeve and includes the complete lyrics for this cryptic entry of the Dusterverse.

Bunny White Vinyl! While Duster went into hibernation in the year 2000, Clay Parton's four-track never stopped rolling. Recorded alone at home over several years, Birds In The Ground is an album of 30-something, post-9/11 malaise. Under his Eiafuawn (Everything Is All Fucked Up And What Not) acronym, Parton hides beneath layers of fuzzy and clean guitars, his hesitant, cottony vocal disappear into noise. This deluxe pressing is packaged in a gorgeous tip on sleeve and includes the complete lyrics for this cryptic entry of the Dusterverse.

Militarie Gun aus Los Angeles kündigen ihr Debütalbum ”Life Under The Gun” an, das am 23. Juni über Loma Vista Recordings erscheinen wird.

Außerdem kündigten Militarie Gun für den Juli zwei Deutschland-Shows mit Rival Schools an. Zuvor brechen sie zu einer Reihe von weiteren EU- & UK-Terminen auf, darunter eine bereits ausverkaufte Show in London.
Es ist fast unmöglich, ”Life Under The Gun” zu beschreiben, ohne sich in Widersprüche zu verstricken. Ist es ungewöhnlich aggressive Popmusik oder ist es ungewöhnlich eingängiger Hardcore? Ist es zutiefst intellektuell oder ist es befriedigend urwüchsig? Ist es ein verletzlicher Versuch, lebenslange Verletzungszyklen auszupacken, oder ist es eine Sammlung von weltbewegenden, absurden Punk-Hymnen? Die Antwort liegt auf der Hand: Es ist alles davon. Es ist Militarie Gun.