Oh hey, it’s been too long. A pretty random tape purchase from the Shape Records site led to 30 minutes of strung out, experimental bliss from Failed NASA Experiment, which led to a FNE back catalogue reservoir-deep with skronk and drone joy, which led to their mother label The Lows And The Highs and a further roster of fried heads and cracked speakers. Once you’re in, you may as well go up to your neck – it’s music that’s dusty, out there, full of love and devoid of crap indie middle eights. A new split cassette with mystery Argentinian weirdos Ø+yn should make you immediately juice up; check these totally objective song descriptions and pretend you don’t want multiple copies.
Cinco Cantos a la Virgen de Satrostramocha: Canto 1
Brittle strummed ukes. Plucked strings. Metal twinkling percussion/FOOT STOMPS. Wonky keyboard from space. Bends time.
Keening violin in the gate of madness. Stalking guitarro. Dribble drool vocals from male Spanish witch. Bells. “Woo-ooo-oo! Eeeah!” Everything up, coalescing. Rest. Sawing a violin in half. Jews harpocalypse. Weird ruler on table noise. Lone plucked guitar. Then a dead choir begin.
Pipes of the dead. Honks. The skronk note. Wood hit. Cat walking on piano. Guitar/toy car revving. Giant fart cloud. Waaap noise from space or is it yawning aliens?
Desert violin wibble. Metal hit. Some chanting. Pure tone for ringing ears. Gibbering ghosts in background. Is that a dog? Whispering spells. Quiet. Slave ship drums. Noise coming in like lighthouse revolutions. Violin again. Quiet. Metal ghosts. Bird noises? Stoned whistling?
Horizontal plinks of guitar amongst the birds. Singing with half open eyes. Dissolves into monks again.
The Royal Court Of Khru Pipeang Mon Yaihat
FEEDBACK. Guitar slowly sculpted into shapes. Odd tonk of drumkit, gradual bang bang over guitar scream. Battered drums, slowly. Then a lot. The scream over everything.
For Maria Mednyanszky
Snooker balls? Ping pong balls? Fired against walls and the ricochet noise gradually reverbed into some amazing minimal psychotic techno track. Yeah!
He Can’t Bowl And He Can’t Throw
SKRONK. Reed obliterated and drumkit fucked to death. Dystopian funk, almost.
Dilophonotini / Moacroglossini / Philampelini
Plinking of guitars. Weird train toots. Ghost humming chorus. Coming together of heads. The desert again.
The Gossamer Albatross
Cosmic guitar drone. Spaced clangs, rippling bass notes. On and on and on. Strafed by static. A bubble against the world.
The Bosonic Temple Of King Soloman
Rifling through a junk shop. Scattering metal and strings. Into…
The Quick Witted But Slow Footed Bill Brenzel
… looming bass throb. Stalking, thudding steps. Dread echoes.
A Recipe For *blank*
Strange, filleted sounds. Drones taking it out then receding. Cracked blues guitar over the wreckage, played for the heck of it. Chatter and shimmer underneath. Lovely lovely lovely.
Live In Penarth 26.02.11
Coming drone/feedback/drum scrape. Metallic mirage. Distant cries, becoming melody. Building. Wish I was there.