Monday, December 31, 2012

P16.D4



As box sets go this is going to take some beating...



Wednesday, December 12, 2012

A Small Eclipse At The End Of My Finger



New noise romancing from the Shackleton HQ plying the weird betweens... a concrète joy aptly entitled A Small Eclipse At The End Of My Finger...

Blue Tapes 4 - Laurent Chambert / The Fractal Skulls Split



The Fourth instalment from Blue Tapes' ongoing delvings into the melodious pairs two like minded auteurs to produce some pretty divine outcomes...

Laurent Chambert's side starts in a lock grooved hypnosis of jazzy mirror glints. Reich tonal charges, gently tempo shunted, cut back to sift through some achingly beautiful crystals of elastic duality. Piano pulses lightly dusted in ping ponged percussion, fading slowly into watery timber creaks of oars and rumbling weather. Chord recyclings follow chased by cymbal flares, finally bowing out on the self same arpeggio(ed) dazzle of dancing fingers that started the track.

Fractal Skulls continues the vibe with an ambient sun stroked horizon entitled 'Endless 23'... A loose glitter haze, full of spiral lit curls and sequenced zest. Overlays of drifting melodica on 'Reserve Army of Labour' pursuing in gentle repeater candies and polyrhythmic milks.

Mellow dew that's well worth your attention...

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Fairhorns!!!



...what a great Team Brick Christmas combo...

Sunday, November 25, 2012

Kemper Norton - Collision Detection v6



This is an amazing slice of consistency, electronica with a strong folksy core, absorbs the projects raw materials like soft soil does a boulder suitably covered in a thick coating of mossy down…

Him (loving those enigmatic single word titles) starts proceedings recounting a tale of domestic abuse to haunting slips of drone…‘He beat her black, he beat her blue, he made the bourbons(?) rattle too ’ There’s a quiet authority to the voice, a game keeper spinning a yarn in front of a blazing hearth. You can really feel the scenery contracting to this voice as the distant clanging and sulphurous swirls fill the speakers in differences, dissidence… Sounds that conjure / romance some ‘other’, a sepia soak that’s excellently observed, right down to the boozy chants dissipating in frosty air. An ooze of late Autumn, like a trace of weathered initials in time bloated bark or the fragrance of some mouldering almanac …

Dusted in glints of IDM modernism Us briefly removes you... in a strange mechanical ping/pong, attacked in hissy vents and modulated cross cuts , like the bell jarred excitement of insects bouncing the curvature of glass before succumbing to a lethal chemical cocktail.

Them radiates on heavier densities, the crackle of radioactive topes… a weighty drone fed with ominous breaths and creaking phantoms… a tensile rumble worked over by some gorgeous gossamer fretwork, whilst a knot of tattered rosary threads skip the core...

The last track Her suckles from the previous... its scratchy seismic needles linger as the narrator returns on an undulating odour of drone and breeze flapping lace … ‘Go from my window my love, go from my window please’ he sings repeatedly in a vain attempt to banish a persistent apparition maybe? as the marrow of rotting leaves fills the air in a subtle churn of worming metallics

A brilliantly realised EP that makes me eager to sample more from Mr Norton’s cabinet of curiosities…

Monday, November 19, 2012

Swans

Thursday 15th Nov - KoKo London











Seeing the Swans back in 2010 was pretty awe inspiring, but the repeat experience was beyond words... a two hour plus show that blew expectation clean out of the water... the sheer magnitude / scope was unbelievable, almost mythical...Howling twists of pounding volume, laced with woozy ambiences...That live rendition of the title track off 'The Seer' which was over 48mins alone (most band's whole set!)...plus the taut muscular joy of hearing that golden oldie 'Coward' again... a thirsty, staggering animal of a song... Gira's heavy as lead vocals over the retracted guitar screams of Westberg and Pravdica.. .sprays of incendiary lapsteel from Christoph Hahn, whilst Thor and Puleo slammed all in sundry in measured response, absolutely unholy. Like the latest album, songs just materialised through the wreckage and improv repetitions ... Gira all raggety man, hand fans shaking as if imaginarily crucified, an evil worm of tongue wiggling in his alabaster countenance, voicing lots of excellent new material ... To be kind, She loves us and Nathalie, songs that could have easily pushed the triple vinyl to a fourth slab... This was Gira and company at the top of their game. showing no sign of nostalgic resignation, meaty, unrelenting and something I'm going to remember for a long time to come... now it's time to re-live











Wednesday, November 14, 2012

Songs From the Old Grammar School



Some really nice improv spaces and knotted hair from The (plexus) Collective

Tambora Rekotz



23. November 2012 @ Badenstedterstrasse 48, Hannover with:
(M)Anal Ustard´S Rock Opera Feat. Peter Gabriel (Han)
Opa (B)
Windmill Moth Glue (Uk)
Navngitt Monster Opptog (Nor)


Cutcutcut: Cora Sprengel | Music : Windmill Moth Glue - Grandpa Satan

...more mothglue happenings here, go catch 'em



Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Silver Stairs Of Ketchikan - Until There Is No Sideways



Some excellent new SSOK material from Charlie R of Thought Forms



g e l n a i l s - gel nails



Fresh produce from Ultra Bonbon's Danny Milanese... moving away from his bleaker electronic terrains, these demos under the moniker of Gel Nails delve into a murky dungeon of synthy drone, looped cassette rub and forlorn vocals... i'm loving that Morricone sewer of Yoko Gonzo and i think you should too...

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Impurities - Thossian Process



Here Thossian Process (aka Tim Mitchell) presents seven tracks of disembodied abstraction … a nocturnal firmament teeming with phantomised insects... transparent bodies that are used to the barest of illumination. A suspension of flash-lit digital dust, semi opaque mysteries that I imagine, fit well with a journey through the ruined environments documented in the inlay. The blackness carving anxious fallouts to these shrill fractals of Circles Burning. The coo-ing pigeon roots placing doubts in perception, as the spray of oily loplop feathers are tangled in a choke of ivy, modulations mingling with the smell of damp earth and moulding concrete... Machine born vocabularies shadow playing the watery timbers and rumble.

A negligee of neglect, October mass is all sinewave serpentia... devotional tones blighted in bubbling of liquidised tremor... as a lone shaman rattles out safe passage, seemingly holding the arterial shiver of light against a lake of glistening black coils…

Eastern Sunset is a pure blood fell horizon of cobra sonics, a kazooed mainline splatter of tentacles… and abrasive counter directions... whereas Strange masks… unravels more hypnotically as a firefly of magical metallics flap the speaker's diaphragm, and swarming mirror fragments are threaded on the starkest of numbed percussion…

Conqueror Worm is beset with swished mouthwashes and electro prodded caustics as a pulsating maggot wax chews through debris… dynamically ending in a mechanised scream…

Slum Hymn is my favourite… whirring, coupled with a masticated plod… a murmuring breeze of chant, affixed to an Assyrian undulation which soaks into you as more and more camouflaged details betray themselves... before Coma of Sunday eloquently ends the audio excursion in a slow displacement of algae… a soup of camen uncertainties… echoes of subterranean manatees or watery owls… vapour vends that linger...

Thursday, November 01, 2012

Ichi, Islaja and Tomutonttu

20th Oct - The Cube Bristol





Ichi was marvellous… stilt walked on stage kazooing as he went… making his way through an array of homemade musical wares completely acoustically - as Jan would later state.. 'not even using a microphone'... Essentially a one man band, he brimmed with inventiveness… a real eccentric. A bright orange traffic cone amplifying his cutesy Japanese vowel noodles, accompanied by the simplest of melodies and oompha kicks of bass drum… Steel pan calypso upping the sunshine factor as he constantly assembled and reassembled his wares into different concoctions for each track..





That two string double bass sounded unbelievably sweet, constructed from a stilt leg ... a tambourine sound box, further amplified by the orange cone clipped behind, it was sometimes bowed accompanied by some mighty fine Kazakhstan throat action or slapped and plucked Mingus stylee to his Asiatic syllables … Later, a toy trumpet was perched on top, thimble fingers drumming it’s body… extra percussion from the clackers attached to his All-Stars… that balloon deflating into a trumpet was pure genius!… The man was a blur of novelty… finishing his set playing crazy golf with his instruments, making abstract noises as he went. A party popper finale from his headwear, before stilt walking off stage once more…



Islaja was taking a brave step into the unknown... ditching her usual Finnish word fairies for English and wrapping them in modulated key drones... Lush sampledelic cordons in slippery time frames... those wolf-like howlings were superb, hacking back to her shamanic roots, swept into techno kraut fallouts... a bit irked that some of the lush directions were disappointingly chopped short or left wavering towards some wobbly danceables...





Last up Jan Anderzen the man behind Tomutonttu was nursing a bad cold, mulling a tumbler of rum and coke in hand...... saying he really liked Ichi's set, apologetically gesturing towards his musical wears and saying sheepishly on reflection that it all depended on electricity... with a shrug of the shoulders he went straight into his goods...a slippery floor of sonic loopage similar to his looniness for Ultra Eczema (recently dragged from the brink of rarity by Jan and Sammi's Fonal imprint)... glow sticks of tune tomahawking the speakers complimenting the circular symmetries projected behind… those pitch/tempo shifting ethers full of merry trolls and toy like conversations... vaulted insanity that seemed to wheeze with meaning...



Vena Cava

28th Sept - The Croft



Can’t believe Vena Cava only got to play two tracks in the end… After a fiery start it was clear this wasn’t going to be a game of disheartened half measures as the band notched up a real juggernaut of a send off… A mighty fine brew, similar to their previous outing but way more pyrotechnic … those ram-raiding drums, and Mardt's chevrons of bass attacking in ever wider circles of predatory intent… Christelle's fret gildings itching out over it all, a river of gothic sensibilities enhanced by her vocal gasps … Bardo Pond would be a good comparison, but this was way more blunder busting as the effects propelling everything skywards then seemed to super charge into orbit… plunging into a frazzled meltdown of sonic sycamore seeds helicoptering out in centrifugal burns… Screaming skulls peppered in meaty pounds and chisellings of bass fuzz that ate away your inner ear in termite serrations… The drummer, Sean, kicking the shit out of his kit to two guitars battling hungry feedback bats… a spectacle that made the 45min journey to Bristol totally worthwhile…



Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Neck vs Throat



...this abrasive little nugget is a recent collaboration between Skull Mask's Miguel Perez on guitar and the mysterious YOL on guttural cathartica... entertaining stuff... Insight-wise this little youtuber gives you some visual debris to latch onto...



Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Hare Akedod 004 - Raju Arara



Another wholesome offering from the ever wonderful Hare Akedod label over in Antwerp. This time it’s 30mins of ear curling kaleidoscopics from Raju Arara, the solo goods of one Rani Bageria who I think hails from Vienna… but location isn’t Important as the blissed minimalisms documented here… a synthetic ping-pong of neon horizons and fanning lines of perspective… Reich-like repeaters dissolving in a skull dance of simple kinetics…

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Ancient Ocean / Expo 70 Split LP



Ancient Ocean's side - Decomposition // Decay is a sublime procession of pulsating texture, a hazing of the subconscious. Electron false colours filled with droplets of distended keystrokes and singing bowl reverberations. Mellow actions of dronic love unravelling in zero gravities, punctured in a un-tethering of romantic glisten … Aural drama, magnified in a gorgeous acidic pour of guitar… a starlit gargantuan of fizzing expectation amongst the neurological vapours… a chemical ascension on gliss-kissed guitar lay lines and veiny spiders of nocturne, inching root balls clouded in carouselled confetti's…

The flipside from Expo 70, aptly entitled Waves in Caverns of Air, ekes out a darkened Dali-esque drone that’s perspectively thrown, real minimal fare with oscillatory owl whorls, puckering those ever expanding vanishing points as if Delia Derbyshire was remixing from beyond… Highlights falling through the ethereal cloak in a twist of shadow, relayed on a chorus of mirrored satellites … keyboard blurs gluing the interferences together into a vaselined airbrush of orbiting spacecraft, oozing the repeated rrrr’s of relaxation, seemingly caught between those ultra violet hues of the cover. Another sterling release from No-Fi...

Monday, October 15, 2012

Sound and Vision - Non Ferric Memories, Robert Ridley Shackleton, FMG, Joined by Wire, Mango Shank

22nd September 2012 - Post Modern Swindon





Wow! What an evening… Half way through JoinedbyWire's set, Andy whispers in my ear that he's lost his grip on reality. By the look of his eyes, that downed quart bottle of vodka had reached maximum saturation… his head struggling with the elliptical orbits Stephen was plying. Those furious kinetics skipping in rhythmic semaphores were just the ticket. Harsh abstracts mingling with lush landslides of texture, repeated phasers modulated and hinge angled, boiled shimmered and fried perspectives... all generated from a mind boggling minimalist kit perched on a little fold out table he found in the back of his dad’s garage… Wanted to pump this leviathan out into the dead air beyond, poke the corpse of this town with its itchy tendrils...



Rewinding back to the start of the evening , we, the Non Ferric Memories were a bit of a sonic jumble sale, albeit an oddly musical one... discounting a few technical miss-firings, it was quite enjoyable...first outing for car boot reverb unit too... don't think we'll go for that 'zero prep' vibe again though, can't believe we lasted 40mins...







Robby's performance blew me away. I've got a few of his Hissing Frames tapes, but nothing prepared me for the sheer tour de force.. he stormed through his set like a mutant son of Elvis. An avant crooner par excellence, 70's telephone in hand, his distinctive blend of warped pop, curling out bizarre comedies amongst that glitchy cake of radio static and mangled cassette collection which he reputedly acquired from blind Belgium nuns… he spun some amazingly weirded out tales of blurred truth and blatant fictions… ex-wife throwing bricks at foxes ....genius





Next up, FMG (my old next door neighbour) was plying blissful guitar foldings. A rich tapestry of hypno-needles… really beautiful mellow vibes, similar to his recent Waiting Period cassette I reviewed back in the summer… The beats slowly making sense as scars of distortion were overlaid. The heady brew...contagiously seismic… the visuals bursting with symmetric shamanism as a legion of mutating Mobius strips danced… gorgeous stuff...









After all the difficulties of getting Windmill Moth Glue down, it was a relief to see two-thirds of the fore-mentioned actually close the show… and what a spectacle it was… This side project calls itself Mango Shank, and I’ve been loving their particular brand of neo primitive candy ever since hearing The Phantasmagorical Fruit Cave of Wonder earlier in the year… and the hoe down of pure mischief they worked up didn’t disappoint. Like two grotesque gnomes they banged the shit out of their various noise toys which lay strewn across the concrete, yelping Elvin curses at each other... this was both bizarre and exhilarating… that radio friendly jab at British Rail was superb… Later I took them round the Magic Roundabout telling them about Andy's 'Crowleyesque' theories of the place… secretly hoping it might seep into a future out-pouring…

Saturday, October 13, 2012

Poetry Corner

Big Sass - Robert Ridley-Shackleton and Kommissar Hjuler Und Frau



Straight from Mr Shackleton's very own imprint Hissing Frames comes this new gem of a cassette... A 'weirded out' weave whose 'house style' diy paint splattered collaged cover gives an inkling into the delights that it contains...

Robbie's side is surfing the short / long wave candy on the harsher side of the spectrum ... This is noise with a wide heart and an agitated attention span, crammed with lo-fi immediacy that's resourcefully emotive ...Those gorgeously evil mechanical repetitions and warped tape graylings buckled in swoons of opera and garbled fwd/rewinds fill your head with possibilities. 'You'll never catch me copper,' he goes, all beat boxed mouthed, bedded down on an awkward wobble of operas and baked vocal guitars which soon break into a stunning avant be-bop chop. A funkadelic syncopation of human tone bank that puts that Police Academy chap to shame...so darn additive it's unreal! It's like he's channelling Elvis or Prince with a taint of Alan Vega into some homemade cabaret/karaoke... Total gold!... Even when folded back into noise, a stream of ugly and beautiful truths can still be heard wasp vowelling the speakers...

The action doesn't stop there, as the phenomenon that is The Kommissar Hjuler Und Frau occupies the flip. A pick-up zammed 'blues' of fretboard, as Miss Frau 'ahhhs' away over the top, high on the vocal register to Hjuler's low slung baritonics. It's like a rewriting of a Miles Davies milestone, the trumpet replaced by an off kilter nightingale plying an 'anti-X-Factor ' bezazz, like a Billie Holiday deconstruction of tonsil tinnitus .... gliding maleness sweeping in... beaten chord candy and tasty feedback peaks... Business as usual from this lovable German couple, even dropping off a song or two along the way...I absolutely love those screaming primitivisms, maybe not as brutal as past ventures, but this is still comfortably beaming from the outsider realm with Hjuler' word whoofing over the shrieks, on plastic spooned porcupines. Later on, Miss Frau throwing out the trance magic, goofing off her own coo-ing to glitchy pita pat of guitar... A Slapp Happy vocal climb prelude to some sellotaped poetry about taking the child over the mountain... a random sentence that has a strange logic of its own, to a cleave of bongo palmed shoebox elastic and Patty Waters tone tennis......

Friday, October 05, 2012

Collision Detection v5 - BLK TAG



From the highly commercial flavours of V4 comes this new instalment from the enigmatic BLK TAG… By the name, it would come as no surprise that this duo are great fans of Rollin’s Black Flag, and from their own barred logo you could be under the misconception that they are a ‘covers’ band of some sort… that’s until you sample the lovely obliqueness on offer here… a drone soaked landscape that’s musky and gloriously insular, with extra heavy bass plummets that attempt to conceal the sun…

The first track sets the mood, as the mild squeaking inflexions of the previous ep are blown through with a doomic majesty of bass, with amp grumblings scaffolded in extra piano coffin nails… then you're flung into some mighty fine cumulus canker and varicose veined electricity that quakes through the ears…

From here on, things are replaced by a popcorn of pirouettes, a glitchy soufflé that expands into a whirring industrialised dronescape… Entitled I am not in yr love, it’s a tidal vibe of mildly threatening hues, seemingly suffocating on their own inertia as gloomy timber saws chop into the protracted gasp…

An ooze of sub current bleeds out from the previous track, feeding the slow shrapnel explosions of Watch me pull a toolbox outta yr chest. Initially sharp thuds seem to dissipate in radiator valved pointillism … Percussive sounds that seem to be glowing semi opaque in dusty oxides, a drag of metallic discomforts adding to this gloriously bleak subterranean vibe...

A shruti box refreshment drifts in to close this ep. Brings to mind Nico’s intimate sound world punctuated in the clank of metallic tubing and bantha like howls… the squeak of machinery that started proceedings threading through, developing into an epilogue of vague classical drifts. Undulating snakes of Melodia … and a tennis(ing) of broken shutters … with odd percussive shadows ebbing away on exhaustion, then silence… a vacuum to which the outside world seeps in until the hidden track viciously rips you back in a brief foray of craggy bass…

Wednesday, October 03, 2012

The Skull Mask - Sahumerio



This mini cdr starts out with a spacey vibe, an early Eyeless in Gaza sparkle of strings … Candlelit coronas of ascending frets and cyclesounds… completely solo wanderings… almost stripped to the bone, with only the lightest of dronic mystery to distract you from the fact… Miguel Pérez's guitar playing is exceptional, his fingers conjuring up a myriad of dancing shapes and esoteric cyphers… colours that seemingly conversate in multiple exposures , curving the gloom in bowl like illumination. Vibes twisting upward in salamandering canter, mimicking the vapours of the enclosed incense which I recommend you burn whilst listening to this. The classical inflexions veiled in a scimitar of Turkish/Eastern flavours as flashes of white horse ride the lapping raga pulse, bespeckled in violent mood swings. This is a passionate display of force, a spin with jewelly diffusions banishing the bad vibes of Cuidad Juárez's past, where human life was the cheapest of commodities…

Monday, September 10, 2012

Sound and Vision

This is gonna be a fun night over in Swineville's very own Post Modern Art Gallery, hope to see you there...



Joined by Wire - Dronic sails battered by nano-crunch, whirring glass and blasting furnace.

Windmill Moth Glue - A trio of sonic terrorists possessed by the sinister souls of medieval jazz alchemists fished from the deepest darkest depths of the auditory underworld. Conjuring up a sonorous explosion of satanic freeform, a hullaballoo of discordant harmony, a devilish din of piercing percussive confusion and sonic sycophants that will invade your human shell and inflict the most delightfully devilish listen ing pleasures upon your mind.

FMG - What started as a sound project back in Swindon in 2004 has come full circle. London based musician, John Scott will be performing as FMG for the last time with a stripped back setup with fewer gadgets to bring blissed out psyche-drone guitar back to The West Country, where it first came from.

Unpronounceable Squiggle - Robert Ridley-Shackleton - Spirituality, metaphysics, the primitive hand of man, the ridiculous, the ghosts and the gods all presented by a mutant baby of Prince and Alan Vega.

NoN FeRrIc MeMoRiEs - hypnotic seizures a plenty with aesthetic aneurisms on the side.

Sunday, September 09, 2012

Outer Church's Lithium Bone Worm

Sampleadelic sorcerer Sone Institute (Roman Bezdyk) joins forces with oceanic drone merchant Tidal (Jimmy Billingham) and shadowy analogue manipulator Time Attendant (Paul Snowdon) for a three-way spectral alliance... the fruits of which can be tasted here. If that whets your appetite, Wednesday September 26th will witness a live convergence at Brighton’s uncanniest audiovisual feast The Outer Church . Here's to rupturing the fabric of reality in a mellow caress...



Thursday, September 06, 2012

Shimmering reflections of the endless myriad moment - Stuart Chalmers



This latest offering from Stuart Chalmers on Zam Zam is a soft loopian waltz of strange flavours and ornamented frisbees, a rich gyration of sonic bric-a-brac that's really hard to shake off... Each track spins a plentiful alchemy, pulled along on light glittering gravities... the stitching constantly unravelling and reconstituting in ever exotic directions and warped collusions... A whir of oddness that holds your attention, in a champagne lustre that bounces your ear in sweet and effervescent déjà vu's...

The naïve nursery rhymes of a child fed to the elusive concretes of music box and temple reverberations or raindrops dropping on vulcanised skin, becoming a Congolese gambol, knived into a butoh motionhaus of bell and footfall…

The magic is dripping off this stuff in vast rhythmic chucks as the rewind and fast forward infests you with its percolations... Those little spokes of recognition jutting up against sine-toned weasels, or split open on those eerie narratives eternally locked in repetition... full of misplaced betweens... This is bloody beautiful stuff... a weirdly spun daydream you'll find hard to wake from...

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Sapir Whorf - Phase 1 Preliminary Investigations



A collage of electronically generated sketches, this is a keen eared journey of repetitive signatures and filtered outgrowths with no flabby indulgences to spoil the stark majesty. Essentially one track, each of these speculative investigations jut up against each other, bordered by short gasps of silence. Each section competes with the next in an eagerness of potential. Abstracts are … coaxed… curtailed squeezed into pleasing patterns or mulched beyond their original natures like some UFO rotisserie of blurring currents and slither lasered horizons. There are even some inklings of damaged IDM flittering around in there, plying a dirty urbanised pulse, one of which is absolutely begging for those Etant Donnes boys to shout all over it… This mini cd maybe a work in progress, but the jigsaw is an intriguing one, cryptically hinting of wonders to come…

Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Girl Sweat and Yugoslavian Boys



This split vinyl between Yugoslavian Boys and Girl Sweat grips you by the throat. The proceedings start with Yugoslavian boys , who ram raid your thought processes in head charge of drums and hacksawing guitars. An hi-octane joy of incessant keyboards and shouty cuffs, driving home the goods in repeated hysteria and jibing gorilla fists with some squalling trumpets thrown in for good measure… On the flip Girl Sweat play it from a more psycho-cramps angle. Dredging bass and bardedwire choked guitars complimenting a lustful spread of drums that smack through all that crooner salvia in fat sloppy heartbeats… This bolt of fun certainly blows the dust clean away…

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Mircodeform, Vena Cava, Sylvester Anfang II

9th August 2012 - The Croft Bristol



Regrettably missed most of Microdeforms set... the beauty of what was witnessed making me more irksome of the fact... that melodic machine spill was top notch... Gorgeous ambient landscapes puckered in slithers of distressed candy... those kernels of soporific beat pulled out of shape gently curved around the semi transparents...







Vena Cava had a bit of a nervous start, teases of buried vocals gathered up into quite a storm... Loved those howling wolf bass noises ... that juggernaut of a last track was a head mountain of a climb... asian guitar scuttling across the bass line meat and slamming drums of their new drummer... decaying in on some prime pedal switcheroo, cooing out on an ocean of frayed tinfoil and twisty canker... really glad to have them back...









The Anfang boys were plying tabla, bongos and pumped harmonium amongst the usual drumkit and guitars.... A mellow start, similar to this recent Belgium fallout... re-kindling the cosmik comedowns of Between / Popol Vuh surfing a malleable mind metal that just lapped in your ear holes... later gathering up in a transportation of guitar angles and tambourine spillage... the glistening slip and central rhythm holding the differing knits of intrigue... everyone swapping over instruments..... the violin burring... was that Ignatz shadow lingering?... vibes that had me floor crashing in that hot hot front room, sucking at the explorations... limp antennas for arms...





Chatting outside we attract the attention of this liquid eyed hobo all whistling and twisting fingers forks as Charlie and Chris have a beer fight in the distance... Mr. Olivetti wondering if he was cursing us for our empty pockets as those voodoo fingers of his rotated round our faces... his tape loop head resetting ' you can't give want you haven't got...' cap in hand wanting us to fill it with shrapnel.... looks at me with a slowly creeping smile that kind of freaks me, ...you remind me of that Inxs bloke he goes... I recoil in horror of being compared to... Mr. Hutchence... aaarrrgghhhhh... 'don't take offence' he adds, but seriously how couldn't you not?!...