glory fckn sun - spectra - tipped bowler tapes - lp - 14$
Antony Milton , Ben Spiers, and Simon O'Rorke concoct a slow-burning behemoth of metallic shivers and distortion churn, dark enough to invoke the dread name Haino.
Spectra is an unsettling mind-meld: Spiers desolate soundscapes bleed into Milton's heavy drones, which are complemented perfectly by O'Rorke's restless percussion. Group improvisation is the natural language of these three; even listing their solo and collaborative albums over the past decade would take way more effort than I can muster. Suffice to say this is a stellar and unique record to add to their massive discographies.
In an edition of 300 red 160 gm. vinyl records, housed in silk-screened, heavy-guage recycled stock jackets.
--tippedbowler
pumica- quo - tipped bowler tapes - lp - 14$
As the title self-effacingly implies, Quo proffers a triumphant, primo slice of past Pumiceisms: uncertain progressions, anomalous structure, inimitable guitar buzz, sublime melancholy, and distorted vocals (crooned, spoken & moaned). Quo once more finds Pumice cruising the convergence of pop, folk and noise strains with bona fide inner mystique. Sputtering sub-underground skiffle aims for outer zones, diamond cuts of nervous guitar with pesky hooks that sting and tickle tread rough hewn punk turf, pop tangents charm with echoes of Kilgour or Knox, and woozy synth blurts & drones thread the patchwork patterns with Hulk-like grace. With Quo, Neville's palette has shifted to include traces of useless hardcore, doo wop, and modern loner/lunar blues.
Stefan Neville, shamblin' on unhinged like a modern day Hasil Adkins, has been making music as Pumice now for most of his life. Through a steadily spewed stream of unique DIY thud & ooze, mostly created on his insular own, Neville has burrowed an incomparable place in the post-everything New Zealand landscape, all the while making music that's his.
-tippedbowler
medroxy progesterone acetate - blearyeared - tipped bowler tapes - cass - 6$
A sixty-five minute soundtrack to MPA's Satanic babysitter cult film. I pray to God no one has to see that thing. This tape alone will produce night sweats. MPA is up to his usual business, making absolutely uncomprising and unclassifiable sound, composed of horribly mutated mystery samples, tape mutilations, and malevolent synthesizer. DB summons a depth unmatched by most of the drone and community. You don't want to live here, and you probably shouldn't visit for long.Full-color glossy foldover prints with insert and hand-painted tapes. Edition of 93...
-tbt
datashock - tipped bowler tapes - cass - 6$
Two years of end-of-winter recordings from Germany's greatest electronic commune, Datashock. A dreary 2006 produced the A-side, a cabin-feverish piece of ascending space shimmers, suffocating fog, and anxious percussion, punctuated by a brisk, paranoid coda. Psychedelic candied death. B-side was born the following year and finds our friends lost in a funhouse of echo and delay. A macabre carnival made groaning radio ghost. No faces in the mirror. Now it's 2008 and spring has sprung for Datashock, bringing forth this c48 along with LPs on Qbico and Textile. A gruesome bouquet; NOT FOR LOVERS.Full-color glossy foldover prints with insert and hand-painted tapes.
-tbt
the reggaee - balthar -tipped bowler tapes – cass – 5$
"Fifteen-plus minutes of astral debris from the Reggaee, aka Florian Tositti of Angers, France. With previous releases on Ruralfaune and his own Vilaaaviivivi imprint, Tosittiti has mapped a space of eternal-drone now sound channeled through a roomful of instruments and old tape decks. Balthar’s two side-long tracks of blissful whirring and buried, distant percussion catch the Reggaee at his best. The A-side is lodged inside a dream of vocal clouds and scattered bells, with the nocturnal kicking of the dreamer audible in the fog. The B-side ebbs to nightmare, ending in bleak tonal decay. Full-color cardstock covers with two inserts and sprayed tapes." Edition of 68.