sanjulian vampirella 2

Tales from the Attic – Volume X

Tales from the Attic
Volume X

Revolutions of a 45 and 33 kind…..

Typical of these things at the footnotes of the last missive we did – with foolhardy bluster and without a care in the world – reel off a list of likely featured releases that’d be gracing this particular musing – well can I just say that things have a habit of changing and swapping around and so some of the stated promises we’ve somewhat reneged on. Fear not whatever we said would appear here and hasn’t we will make mental notes of at the checkout and have them appear in the next missive.

I’ve been watching with a mix of amusement and interest Danny Baker’s great album show – well 2 of the 3 transmitted shows so far focusing on rock and pop the latter mentioned being the more interesting of the two and how pop is intrinsically woven into your DNA from an early age. But there was consternation about the onset of the download medium and the way the whole feel and relevance of an album has changed with the debunking of vinyl in favour of the CD and in turn from CD to MP3. Grace Dent’s comments regarding the Smith‘s ‘Queen is Dead’ where depressingly true, the now generation have lost that connection in so far as sitting alone, headphones on and venturing upon a personalised sub 40 minute sound journey warts n’ all or else the loss of connection with the angst and despairing loneliness of Morrissey’s seeming misery or worse still the lack of attachment these days to record shops. The complaint – a true one – was that today’s players such as the I-pod and platforms like spotify enable you to pick n’ mix your soundtrack and play lists the result of which meaning that a generation grows up rarely knowing their record collection. A moot point fair enough but then in the days of vinyl and the restrictions to time allowance, bands and artists did or at least where obliged to give it their best shot, no room for fillers which if I’m honest is the curse of the CD because now afforded with 70 plus minutes of groove a lot of releases struggle to stay relevant or listenable and it tells. And yes we could go on about the relevance of track lists and their order of play which worked on vinyl and could often make or break an album – though is deemed an irrelevance to the CD and beyond generation. However – and while I did enjoy for the best part the debate – I did take umbrage with the viewpoint that music these days doesn’t appear to arrive by accident. that a lot of it is pre packaged and formula driven. Depends on which end of the market you are looking, granted if it’s the pop end – indeed for sure – but then wasn’t the commercial end of pop always like that. That said there’s much to applaud the internet for rather than demonise it, I’ve said it before in previous missives many years ago that there’s still that breeding ground of an healthy and potent under the counter culture – just venture into your band camps and your sound clouds and you’ll find the sound of the new, the wired and the weird its just that you don’t have safe reliance of an older sibling or hipster cousin to hold your hand.

Key themes this missive –
1. General miserablism
2. Regular incidences of bugger all information
3. Lost missives as reference markers
4. Quality sounds……….

Any questions – good then away we go…..

This edition features – uncle acid and the deadbeats, woods, cokiyu, electric bird noise, happy orange balloon, morrison’s prophecy, dead leaf echo, the chemistry set, a square peg compilation feat. John 3:16, carolyn o’neill / rasplyn, waste, den haaq and more, PROG, shindig, the Tuesday club, Jacob’s mouse, green kingdom, the ashes of piemonte, coilgun, akarusa yami, pimmon, the aprons, straw bear, karl bartos, public service broadcast, seas fire, implodes, girl band, Ashley paul, Argonauts, postcode, no joy, Kevin byrne, a*star, blindness, strfkr, polyvinyl sampler, blue veils and a jeunesse cosmique compilation featuring moonwood, yetis dei, ylangtlang and more…..

Mentioned this lot last time out when they reared their collective heads on that superb Rise Above sampler included with last months Classic Rock magazine. Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats – killer name don’t you think – are shortly to grace the rise above roster by way of a strictly limited 7 inch and an album to follow in hot pursuit, ‘poison apple’ has I don’t mind saying been getting something of a stereophonic spanking in our gaff not least because its undercut with the kind of sleazy slinkiness that purred amid the grooves of classic era T-Rex platters albeit here salaciously cut and served with a swaggering stoned out glam pout that imagines the glittered Bolan in a hulking Sabbathian thrug with the equally cool as f**k Sweet Apples. Over on the flip the strut gouged and wasted black glittered rock – a – hula ’under the spell’ swoons and snakes about the listening space replete with Lizzy-esque riffolas and a retro kissed beatnik flavouring that has you recalling an as were bong smoking White Denim doing blissed out Slade / Sweet mash up’s.

‘size meets the sound’ – oh what can we say – this cut has to be among one of the best tracks heard by these ears last year, originally appearing on Woods’ dare we say devastatingly beautiful ‘bend beyond’ set which I’ll have you know we mentioned to much blushing admiration via these very musings which for those of you who missed out first time can be observed and poured over by going here – – much taken were we on first hearing the immediately accessible ‘cali in a cup’ 7 inch that we bagged both the aforementioned ‘bend beyond’ set and split shrimper released full length with amps for christ on the spot. For those disappointed with the lack lustre and lazy reference markers such as left banke, beach boys, summer hymns, mercury rev, the byrds, the bee gees and buffalo Springfield – to name just a few – being bandied around carelessly to describe records vaguely whiffing of sunny 60’s effervescence by certain scribes who’ll remain nameless – then ‘size meets the sound’ will thankfully rear up on your radiant radar as the real deal. Quite frankly the blighter comes pre-packed with the west coast sun, its own lotion and surf ready burmudas ready no doubt to woo you in its luxurious warmth and fuzzily framed lysergic opines, in short the best platter on planet pop right this minute. Out via imprint woodsiest – the band will be playing at this years Green Man Festival.

Video goes like this……

Might just be me but is this not utterly gorgeous, a bit like a star hugging cortege of Mum types in ethereal rapture with a host of Elizabeth Frasers, appealing first instance to those among you whose musical neurons swoon to the chill tipped sounds of a more shy eyed no ceremony we nabbed this from a passing face book posting put up by those Type PR people, by Cokiyu and out via flau – an imprint whom we sadly seldom come across – hint hint – this dream weaving sweetheart is from what we can make out one of three demos resulting from the collaborative sessions for her ‘haku’ single wherein she invited three like minded musical friends to re-wire and add their own persona to the original template. ’twinkle way’ sees her pairing up with Anticon star Baths (the other mixes in case you wonder are by Geskial and LASTorder) to craft something utterly unworldly, beguiled and sprinkled in fluffy showers of magic dust.

You want sore thumbs, then thumbs don’t get any sorer than Jacob’s Mouse. If there was any complaint to be had about Jacobs mouse it was the fact that they were too bloody clever and too erratic for their own good, fuelled on a wiring melodic mindset that chimed to the alt hardcore spirit of Fugazi yet clipped with the ear candy dementia of Captain Beefheart with a hearty side serving of pere ubu, Bury St Edmunds finest where a breathe of fresh albeit frenetic, frazzled and fried air amid an indie homeland landscape immersed and divided in shoe gaze and baggy. At times tapping directly into the wired and weird warping well of the Pixies the trio where oft cited in their early years as the Brit Nirvana. Admired by the late John Peel who championed them on his late night broadcasts, Jacob’s Mouse never really got the credit they deserved, the onset of Brit pop would see them ever more marginalising themselves to pursuing a more experimental path in turn further distancing themselves from success. And so why am I taking you down this nostalgic path you might rightly ask, well simply because next month will see the digital re-release via the Sturm Und Drang imprint of the bands debuting EP ‘the dot’ and full length ’no fish shop parking’. full reviews to follow in a near future missive – though for now get your earlobes around ’twist’ here culled from that debuting long playing platter here

Here’s a brief video commentary by Mrs John Peel – Sheila explaining why the family chose Jacobs Mouse to represent the letter J on ‘the space‘.

Sadly not a lot of info with this other than to say it came to us via a request to like a face book page and well being the kind of folk who actually do read the small print before signing things we had a crafty little nose around in order to see what we were meant to be liking before stumbling on this quite nifty free to download compilation. A like minded UK based collective going by the name square peg in a round hole offering an outlet resource for up and coming bands bubbling beneath the undergrounds radar who’ve just posted for your listening delight Volume 4 of an ongoing showcase series that promises all manner of acts and artists ploughing the electronica, industrial, dark wave and gothic terrains in the guise of a 12 track gathering of talent. Barring John 3:16 of whom you might recall occasionally spirits these pages via some well heeled releases for the alrealon imprint – which is a timely reminder given we’ve a download of his latest opus to hook up to – all these artists are previously unknown to us. The set opens to perhaps the most immediately accessible cut of the collection by Emil Memon whose ’hot in a disco’ is chill dipped in an acutely austere cool wave skin that on initial listens sounds not unlike Clock DVA in a face off with Relaxed Muscle yet once wired into your headspace assumes something of a distinct electro clash flavouring that recalls Minty, certainly one for the old school Soft Cell-ers among you. Morrison’s prophecy stump up ‘IV matter (the devil)’ and endow it with a deliciously dark late 70’s styled electro minimalism which had we not kn own any better would have called it the handiwork of a Mark I version of the Human League. WASTE who I did suspect at one point to have a loose connection with Radiohead serve up the frankly disturbing ‘kill your own’ which asides passing a little to close for comfort to the more sparsely toned selections offered by truth about frank is stricken with enough remote monochromatic atmospherics to have most scuttling behind the settee for safe haven and which unfurls in time to mirror something not so dissimilar to that found on Add N to X’s ’add injury to insult’. hooked up to the same mechanoid glue are something complex whose ’eating, keeping, feeding’ is a molten stew of 70 gwen party, basement jaxx’s and silver bullet body parts. Elsewhere the cheerfully named transpo mutilation does a neat like in ominous death rattled creepiness that sounds like its been bleached in blood and sun dried at the fabled crossroads, ‘dead and gone’ is a deeply haunting and harrowing slice of noir scratched terror torch murder balladeering which ought in the first instant appeal to admirers of both Tom Waits and a certain Nick Cave. After a spot of somewhat seemingly false starting ’a place in between’ by J R Williams / Negative Distortion soon finds its feet to emerge from its unsettling atmospheric mooring to blossom into a distractively demurred slice of lo-fying romantically inclining lazy eyed strummed out loveliness. Perhaps its just me or maybe the ungodly hour at which I’m headlong and mesmerised by this but the sparse minimalist ambient brush strokes of ‘crux’ here served up by Kuba Karwacki is steeled in the kind of sweet lonesome melancholia that has it sounding not unlike an opining SOS transmission breaching the cosmos from a far and long since dead star from a deep and distant cluster belt. Sounding not unlike the type of stuff played by Peelie on his late night musical feasts c. late 90’s thorsten soltau and marina stewart join forces to eke out some deceptively dandy cosmically kooky broken beats that mainline the youthful back catalogue of a fledging Warp imprint via ‘les horreurs indestrictible I B maechanish acoustique vaxierspeel’. One of more favoured choice moments is the blank post punk thing that appears to be staring back at us via Den Haaq’s bleakly bruising ’tensions’ which aside catapulting us back to an as were Peel play list c. 1980 shares its dystopian DNA with those folk of good cheer Joy Division though that said scratch away a little deeper and the distinct tune tailoring of the sadly underrated Ellery Bop rushes to the surface seeking air. Must admit that we’re a tad taken by the shimmer toned shoe gazing lilt of blind session’s ‘the distance’ whose stratospheric sonic sculpturing had us in mind of a youthful Workhouse. We’ve been hearing good reports about Carolyn O’Neill sadly without actually being blessed with hearing anything, that small and puzzling detail is I’m happy to report at an end what with the appearance on our headsets of ’scenes through the magic eye’ which sees her shimmying up to Rasplyn for some classically crafted surrealist orchestrations which appear to ID the current sonic styling recently appreciated on Philippe Petit’s amazing ’extraordinary tales of a lemon girl’ trilogy the final part of which has been on the must commit to review list for way to long. Absolutely beautiful stuff spliced with the woozy wood chipped enchantment and winter bound flavouring of Vernon Elliott and the subtle masking of Bernard Herrmann like tension. Something you’d imagine blossoming to life by way of the accompaniment of one of those strange eastern European animations from the 70’s. last but not least the aforementioned John 3:16 crafts out the solemnly stilled ‘obey God’ which in its early moments appears to take its cue from the terminator theme before acquiring to its body armour the subtle tracing of a middle eastern tongue moored by side winding pulsars to grow evermore in depth, dimension and tension as though a heralding call of a dust storm emerging apocalyptic charger. For your own free download go to

Blimey is it just me or is everyone and everything on a cheerless downer at the moment, I mean Pope’s abdicating, lightning striking the Vatican – not once but twice, meteor near misses, talk of a World War III, prophecies alluding to the end of the world slowly coming home to roost and the Stereophonics still releasing records. I mention this because we got an email from Brian of Silber records who sounded slightly doubting and pessimistic and a little left out and who in the opening part of his missive notes cheerily that according to ‘the prophecy of the popes’ that the next pope is meant to be the last before who or whatever calls time on mankind’s self serving folly reminding us all into the bargain that this event we should witness in our lifetime, glad I got the tickets then. On a lighter note – lets face it couldn’t get any darker if someone put the sun out, reasonable cheer comes in his announcing of Silbers spring collection – and a fine play happy pedigree of strange pop pretties they are to – among the roll call from ocean to autumn, drekka sound system, goddakk and northern valentine – all of which we’ll cover in greater detail next time out though not before drawing your attention to something of a killer outing by electric bird noise in the guise of ’desert jelly’ which has had Brian chomping at the bit declaring it to be the nearest thing to a ’new wave dance record they’re ever likely to put out’ with teaser cut ‘dune buggy’ sounding not unlike a head wiring psych stoned krautrocking monolithic cosmic super cruiser voyaging the landscapes of Vangelis’ ‘blade runner’ soundtrack that’s sure to appeal to the Zombi admirers among you.

A message from Dan of Happy Orange Balloon gave us the heads up on a new track he’s just posted up on sound cloud. Those familiar with HOB may well associate their sound with something dinked in the affectionate radiance of sun shine happy cheer pop all dizzily drizzled in a becoming lo-fi kookiness. And so it came to be that ’outerworldly’ reared into our listening space – ’be prepared for something spacey and unique’ prepped Dan in his note. We pressed play expecting the lulling folly of dayglo dreamscapes – woah – hold it there – you sure this is happy orange balloon – we checked the can – yep its their name on that there tin top – a sharply contrasting cut that sees HOB pursuing a somewhat shadow lined futurist and industrialised cosmic path. Pitched in a slow choking austere tension and couched upon an ominously minimalist apocalyptic ambient groove there’s a classically realised sense of dread detachment that gouges away at the core here as though some mid way Galactic refuelling stop has brought together the pitting of John Carpenter and John 3:16 mindsets. Damn fine by our reckoning and as with the previously mentioned morrison’s prophecy cut very much one for the ’blade runner’ soundtrack enthusiasts.

Picked this up via a random posting by Wil Bolton of Cheju / Boltfish fame giving warning of the imminent arrival of a new Green Kingdom full length via the quite eclectic SEM imprint entitled ‘dust loops : memory fragments’. there are three preview shots currently sitting on the sound cloud link noted below awaiting your affection. And affection you ought pour for these after lights dimmed lovelies are smouldered in bespoke sophistication coolly demurred in lush lounge chills ’ambin5’ particularly lost in its own hermetically sealed cosmic love in pulses seductively like some spaced out biosphere variant though for us surrenders to the gushed twinkle tipped soft sensuality of ’golden swamp’ with its smoked spacey soul shadow playing. Very classy.

And staying with Wil Bolton just a little longer, out via the time released sound imprint and no doubt ultra limited in quantity is a collaborative collection that pairs Mr Bolton with Lee Norris under the collective nom de plume the ashes of piemonte. ’ordained by winter’s fire’ is currently being aired via sound cloud as a taster, a beautiful thing it is to, serene, mellowed and steeled in the kind of longing introspection that endears the work of Yellow6 not to mention Vini Reilly and a youthful Roy Montgomery.. Poised, measured and gently lulling, ‘ordained by Winter’s fire’ is applied with a panoramic aspect, tenderly tortured, sparsely hollowed and trimmed in regret, the ghostly opines echo and reverberate into the endless voids the tranquil sculpturing enhanced by the trickling cavernous atmospherics.

Mr Bolton also appears on a new compilation cobbled together by the Assembly Field imprint. Its their debuting release and is available to download for free. Entitled ’compilation #1’ the set gathers together 11 like minded souls currently found sculpturing all manner of dream drone symphonies – among the ’assembled cast’ are chill toned cuts by the likes of gallery 6, yuko, thompost, david newlyn, sima kim and many more – we’ll try and remember to mention this in greater detail next time out – for now though follow the links to download..

Mentioned this lot in passing via tales from the attic volume VII which should you so wish you can pick up now via when we reviewed their current chart bothering platter ‘ain’t got no class’. rising from the ashes of the mighty – and I’ll have you know ridiculously admired – the Scratch who it seems are on an extended sabbatical – are the Tuesday Club, same band in essence, different name, bigger in number and packing a positively precocious line in punch you out cold purred pop pretties, Andy from the band kindly sent over the bands so far to date 2 releases with button badge no less to which I’m proud to say I’m wearing as I write. ’ain’t got no class’ as previously advertised revives the much missed lost art of belching on records, for a fleeting moment I was back in the land of the test tube babies and toy dolls, a sneering slab of glam trashed bad boogie admittedly hardwiring elements of ’the time warp’ from Rocky Horror albeit as though frantically fried by a seriously shit faced Roxy in a studio brawl after pubs close with Dr Feelgood and Magazine. That said our money is on the flip cut ’new regime’ which literally pogo’s its way off the grooves to throttle the crap out of you, a mental slab of melodic mayhem trip-wired in the abrupt agit core of a ’science friction’ era XTC fused to the demented dada dialect of the Buzzcocks ’spiral scratch’ EP with added strains of Blur’s ‘song 2’ added in for frenetic flavouring. ‘Dolly Dynamite’ the bands debuting platter is cast upon a catchy pub rock mooring all sweetly buttressed in all manner of 50’s styled bubble grooving which to these ears sounds not so dissimilar to a prime time teen thrilling Cockney Rebel with a spiky side serving of Rocky Sharpe and the Replays – I kid you not. ’money means nothing’ courts a darker psychosis to its bow and hip swerves seductively to a curve-balling cool as f**k chorus that much recalls the much missed brand violet while ’they may look cute (but these dogs bite)’ brings up the rear by way of a slyly affectionate slice of English eccentricity that catches off guard a quietly reflective Wreckless Eric peaking at the songbook of Ray Davies. A handwritten note accompanying the releases from Andy advises that further Scratch side projects involving the bleeed, reverse family, oh no commando and the DIY or die organisation are at the hatching stage while an imminent Tuesday club full length is expected any day soon.

New Shindig just out – don’t think I need tell you that this is perhaps the best newsstand publication around dealing in all things floppy fringed paisley psych power pop appealing, mind you don’t tell those ugly things and new kids on the block flashback types that given they are pushing matters in the affection stakes. #31 is a cover to cover cornucopia of lost gems, rare finds and spanking shimmer toned rock-a-boogie, shocking blue adorn the cover inside an extended overview sets its stall to eloquently reflect that from being one hit wonders there was indeed more to this most enduring of combos than their worldwide ’venus’ hit. Vinyl Art runs the critical thumb over Jefferson Airplane’s legend forming ‘crown of creation’ while Bob Irwin drops by to discuss his labour of love Sundazed records while the shindig staff rummage through the catalogue to root out their personal fave platters – wot no remains, dennis Wilson or wendy and bonnie – come come now. There’s something of a Dutch and Eastern Bloc invasion this issue with the former being headed up by the Aardvarks who if memory serves me right and it probably doesn’t had a few outings via detour and the beat pack. Simon Norfolk continues his travels upending record stores and flea markets in search of the strange in Krakow and the reporting on his booty much to the envy of all. Am I okay to mention Richard Thompson’s name in the same sentence as god like genius – bugger I’ve done it anyway, here for a rare chat while the continuing Stones saga reaches ’their Satanic majesties rights’ – one of THE records of the 60’s. add in an extended feature on the legendary soul that is Iain Matthews, a 20th anniversary revisit to Jellyfish’s ’spilt milk’ and a shed load of cool cuties reviewed and recommended for your listening attention not least something of a killer thing from the barracudas that I suspect requires immediate acquisition and adoration along with three books vying for your considered reading habits – the first being ’demons, fairies and wailing guitars – the best 100 obscure rock acts 1968 – 1976’ by Raanan Chelled, the second by Acid Archives author Patrick Lundborg entitled ’psychedelia – an ancient culture a modern way of life’ which as it happens we are half way through, a hefty read that traces the effects of psychotropic substances on culture, art and society. Last up former farina man Mark Brend’s ’the sound of tomorrow – how electronic music was smuggled into the mainstream’ a copy of which we did try to purchase the other day at our local Waterstones only to be told they didn’t stock it – begrudgingly I might have to go for it via Amazon. Oh well I tried.

In typically time honoured fashion we’ve managed to somehow mislay the email that came introducing this lot for our listening attention. I’m fairly certain there’s an album out there somewhere (once we sort our backsides out from our elbows we will be putting it under closer scrutiny – that much I can promise) but as said alas no chit chatting or salacious tales of goings on at parties and stuff. Coilgun’s ’plug in citizen’ is a hot wiring and beaten down head fuck shoehorned into a brief but blistered 92 second blizzard of grind core gruel, ostensibly appealing to admirers of old school Earache ear candy while to the more unfamiliar among you it’ll feel as though hell hath opened its gates and set loose its apocalyptic army.

Those among you wondering what the hell Mr Gane of Stereolab / McCarthy fame is up to these days take a gander and prepare to swoon – we’ll try and nab some more info in the coming days….

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Agreed this might be getting a little wearing and tiresome but being without my library of singled out missives since those *blighters* at losing today pulled the plug and all traces of their existence from the world wide web makes referencing a little shall we say difficult to the point of impossible. This being further hampered by the fact that the old grey matter not being what it was – hell I trouble remembering 5 minutes ago let alone records I heard in passing some months possibly years back – has reduced your scribe to a state approaching ineptness. I say all this because I know for a fact that somewhere in a recent life we have crossed paths with akarusa yami and suspect we escaped the experience by the mere skin of our teeth. Again as with the coilgun release we’ve haplessly lost the press release – no matter for this is brutal, untamed, unrelenting and above all unforgiving. Lets not beat about the bush here for ‘life, the venomous way’ takes no prisoners, its about you in an instant choking your life signs in its gloomed dead headed warring embrace, stop start dynamics serve to punctuate the bedlam only further instilling an anxious sense of urgency while elsewhere the overall dread despair literally bleeds ominously from its grooved moorings.

Celestial haloes, transcendental inclines and that mesmeric state of peace and grace that alludes to a sensation of passing somewhere beyond the physical, a pure headphonic lightshow ushering in an ethereal tranquillity trip wired in angelic arcs and crafted in tender precision, in short brain food. This footage captures Sydney based aural alchemist Pimmon performing at the Enmore Theatre on Valentine’s night as support to godspeed on their first tour of Australia. Expect more Pimmon related wares in forthcoming missives the first of which will be an absolutely captivating collaboration with Fabio Orsi for the home normal imprint entitled ’procrastination’ .

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Literally just turned up on our radar, what can I say absolutely sublime. Those among you taking notes when we fondly ran a critical ear over that gem like cassette only release by Kull – see tales from the attic Volume 7 for further clues and enlightenment – might just want to brace yourself in readiness for this little darling. ‘sound stain’ is the debut release from femme duo the Aprons – that’ll be Hava on drums / vocals and Talia on bass / vocals – who between may well have crafted one of the best things we’ve heard pass our way since an innocently enquiring Smoke Fairies demo came shuffling up to our door. Describing themselves as a ‘female dream pop duo, urban nymphs who produce magical miniatures and haunting tunes’ – couldn’t have worded it better myself, steeled in the kind of ghostly wood crafted soft psyche once the forte of mazzy star and these days the bread and butter of the haight ashbury albeit as though spirited away in a spell-crafted monochrome murmur, ‘sound stain’ sparsely weaves with a fleeting apparition like disquiet to woo and enchant like some scorned siren, the dynamics spectral and darkly seductive circle a noir scarred template plucked straight from twin peaks to effect something as equally chilling as it is charming. Filmic evidence follows…..

Now I know we shouldn’t go about giving free advertising around the gaff I mean its not as though we are selling your or for that matter our souls to the man or getting any thing in return from the great beast that is commercialism. But hey its my little refuge where I’m allowed to doodle and do whatever I like so put that in your pipe and chuff on it hard. That said if the corporate beast is out there – yea of course – sling a few persuaders our way – the odd Jaguar, suitcase of cash you know the drill. I say all this because of spotify – okay not the greatest resource in the world – like I’m still miffed that you can’t get Floyd / Barrett or Killing Joke’s ‘pandemonium’ on there and its radio tab pulls up some amazingly implausible selections that you scarce wonder whether a room full of an infinite number of music hating monkeys on a break from typing duties has been assembled to cobble these together with promises of nuts for wages. That said and in spite of the fact that we have a resistant reticence to revisiting past deeds good or bad to with record purchases – we have taken to it in recent times and have been found occasioning a wry smile at some of the – shall we say – re-introductions – to forgotten lost listening habits – one in particular being Belle and Sebastian’s ‘tiger milk’. now at this stage if you are still awake at the back you might well wonder to yourself – where is this rambling blighter going with this. Well we eyed as you do, a gorgeous little track by an ensemble going by the name of Straw Bear. Alas not the same Straw Bear who wooed us many moons ago in the days when our loved up stereo was enthralled to the frequent visitation of platters tumbling out of the hobby horse latterly rif mountain imprint by the likes of such souls as the owl service, nancy Wallace and Jason steel. This particular species of Straw Bear have it seems been catching the affection of a certain Tom Robinson by way of his BBC6 music broadcasts with the result that they‘ve been invited in to record a session in early March. Culled from – what we can gather – their second full length ‘black bank’, ’kitty’ has been sent on its way to charm and disarm all who take time to stop by, tune in and loose themselves in its mercurial folk hued folds. Willowy string whispers arc and romance to a softening Autumnal bite that trims seductively to a delightfully lightly spun rustic airiness, there’s a lilting timeless craft and trembling effervescence that attaches to this unassuming beauty that had our ears immediately a – pricked to recall that aforementioned debuting Belle and Sebastian platter most notably its opening salvo ’the state I am in’ albeit it here invested and harnessed with a melting 60’s dusting of Donovan-esque dimpling. Gem like in short.

Due for review in a near future missive will be the latest opus from Karl Bartos. Recognised and acknowledged as the creative cog during Kraftwerk’s most acclaimed period of activity ’off the record’ finds this most unique talent and godfather of modern sound revisiting his audio diaries comprised of sound signatures, rhythmic notes and various aural sketches from his time with Kraftwerk, Bartos has in effect released the genie from the bottle to calibrate a sound collage steeped in a retro golden age of futurist hope that simultaneously peeks at tomorrow through its viewfinder.

For now here’s the teaser video for the sets opening track and lead out single ’atomium’…..

With much teeth grinding annoyance we’ve managed to so far miss their previous platters ‘spitfire’, ‘everest’ and ‘roygbiv’ the blighters having sneaked beneath our listening radar. Happily that’s small oversight is about to be corrected with the news of the imminent zeroing in to land of their ‘inform – educate – entertain’ full length sometime in May via the test card imprint. Ahead of that will be the blister kissed ‘signal 30’ due for record store day adoration and by rights being the cause of much fevered counter frenzy at your local retail emporium given its appearance on a limited run orange wax 7 inch pressing. Public service broadcast be the name of the band responsible a duo – J Willgoose, Esq and partner in crime Wrigglesworth who hail from the smoke and who by all accounts have been causing a sizeable and enviable shakedown to a scene crippled with ego and short on talent. Barely breaking the sub minute three minute barrier ’signal 30’ is a head wiring slab of snake winding ear candy, locked groove riffage tailored and acutely fired to a rasping V12 kick all bled and supercharged to a devilishly cool dragster blues blow out that’s dinked in samples from lost public information newsreels all soldered on to the burnt out chassis of yello’s ‘the race’ upon which after some sanding down and a spot of recalibrating by the ministry been handed over for some fine tuning and a much needed re-spray by the White Hill and sent on its way to square up to your hi-fi. An absolute must have acquisition in our humbled opinion.

Latest – well second – or is it the third – release by too pure as part of their ongoing singles club for 2013 – you might remember us going all ga ga to the sounds of the labels first platter in the series by the beard of wolves in a previous missive – alas despite polite requests we never got any hard copies the cause of which led to much grumbling and muttering of ill deeds. Next up on the radar is a 7 inch from seasfire entitled ’falling’ – this lot hail from Bristol and have already been favourably compared to the likes of burial and massive attack. Alas no fancy sound cloud links here at present because someone it seems has forgotten to upload them – must be those aforementioned ill deed mutterings – that said when they do appear they’ll be eagerly listened to no doubt loved and critically cooed about right here. That said if said scribblings don’t result in promos this time then we’ll ignore the blighters future outings.

Kranky make a welcoming return to these pages with news of an impending release by implodes entitled ‘recurring dream’ – prized from that set and serving to herald its arrival upon the turntables of the more in tuned is the teaser track ‘scattered in the wind’. emerging from a reverb saturated fog this hulking monolith slyly unfurls with panoramic magnificence frost framed in the hollowing forlorn howl of shimmering waveforms whose kaleidoscopic mind expanding shape shifting coalesces and crystallises to form a ghostly arabesque snake charming haze parched in sweet desolation and decayed abandon, in essence a monolithic slow coiled head trip that relocates and pits a classic era Flying Saucer Attack sound for a head-phonic rewiring at the hand of the psychic ills. .

Bugger me if this ain’t the most deranged thing we’ve had the pleasure of burning our heads to so far this year. This bad bastard comes ripped from the third and final ‘quompilation’ cassette put out by the quarter inch collective information on whom you can gather by visiting – we will it should be said be making overtures in order secure a copy of said set for future missive action. The compilation gathers together a hand selected crowd of 14 Irish beat pop combos doing cover versions of tracks released in 2012. Entitled ‘why they hide their bodies under my garage’ originally by blawan of which we ought to say at this point is an killer evil slice of toxic technoid menace – which for those unfamiliar we’ve lobbed in the video below for your discerning listener-ship – this scalding slab of uncouth and feral no wave post punked white out is a sledge hammering 8 minute head butt by girl band whom we deeply suspect we’ve mentioned in passing here previously though I’ll be damned if I can find a relevant citation with which to regale you with. Anyhow this baby sounds not unlike a unholy face off between a schizophrenic Liars dual personality that’s treated in its initial moments to a deliriously dead panned blank generation styled dourly dinked slacker-esque persona all built upon a pulsing mutant mind controlling mesmeric tech beat scarred by the dissonant pang of scowling riffage which steadily collude to wreak and rupture into a molten mass of tension and frenzy that festers, blisters and eventually splinters into a cacophonous howl of attrition. Nuff said…..

The Blawan original…..

We here at the tales from the attic sound stall at your local freak emporium do delight in binging you the strange and the desirable, mainly because we feel its our solemn bound duty and also because we here realise that you – yes you the reader has a preciously infinite amount of free time oft wasted by trivial celebrity concerns and the mass market exposure of music cobbled together by one dimensional soulless types squarely aimed at one dimensional soulless types who prefer their listening habits unchallenged, insipid and without merit, originality or class. And so having stumbled and waded through the wasteland of such we happened fortuitously across Ashley Paul. Proudly emerging with a new album incidentally entitled ‘line of clouds’ tucked under her arm which is imminent via the Brooklyn based REL imprint, Ashley Paul is one of those most rare of talents for asides being known to collaborate with the likes of loren connors and aki onda, she’s found time outside of her more familiar damaged quartet environs to concoct a collection of suites that chill and chime with minimalist classicism. While we try to nail a copy of that aforementioned set from REL which by the way arrives by all accounts pressed up on orange wax all housed in silk screened sleeves depicting artwork penned by Ashley herself we’ll just say that we’ve been more than a tad smitten by the sets opening salvo ’’soak the ocean’ ushered in as it is by the sweetly crooked coo of dizzily drawn nursery rhyme distractions all delicately caressed by the dislocated crush of a spectral sound-scape that seemingly scratches, shifts and dreamily yawns as though rephrased in some long lost tongue of enchantment belonging as were to a secretly unseen to the naked eye civilisation of mysterious fairie folk dwelling in the misty twilight haze of a woodland undergrowth which by our keen ears deserves closer inspection –

Up next and another platter imminent through criminal records whose becoming charms we defy you to resist is ‘monet’ by the hotly tipped Argonauts. Pulled from their current self titled full length – a copy of which we’ll endeavour to source for review in the coming days – ’monet’ is a dream drifting mirage that demurely tailgates a latent 90’s shoe gaze scene populated by the likes of the bang bang machine, lush and curve. Already attracting favourable comparisons to hole and garbage, ‘monet’ murmurs amid a softly purred celestial environ emitting tender reclines crafted from the delicate airless swoon of siren-esque opines melting into sweetly sugar crushed spectral orbs, the effect is disarming cooled as it is by the dinked detachment of a slow decaying forlorn ache, reference wise think of a bruising joy formidable swapping tear stained love notes with the Rubicks.

Video evidence here……


Out via the small bear imprint which for those with ridiculously short memories we mentioned in passing a missive or two ago when casting keen ears over the bordellos’ ’bring me the head of Justin Bieber’ EP. At the time we noted that we’d eyed a 46 track double disc set entitled ’zebranthology’ by postcode – a name many of you long term observers of these pages back in the losing today days might recall from past musings when we stumbled upon them via the much missed filthy little angels imprint. A new EP is shortly about to surface entitled ’zebrATP’ which we here are suspecting we need in our life sooner rather than later. Ripped from that set is the gorgeously souring ’goodbye mine head’ – much in tune and crystallised in the craft much recalling such admired ensembles as Mazzy Star, the delgados, derrero, the Sundays and melys to name just a small few – this gem is in truth one of those rare souls that would have had the late John Peel summoning band to regular shindigs at Peel acres to regale and reduce the attending audiences to swooning wounded affection. A master class in heart heavy despair teased to an off centred sublime smoulder which if your not careful has the wherewithal to twist and a tug on your heartstrings and which unlocks the secret code to heartbreak for so long kept hidden and concealed by the butterflies of love. Crushing stuff.

Moving picture show goes a lot like this….

Haven’t we come across Mexican summer before at some point in past missives, I say this because we’ve spied a video on their you tube page by soft pack who along with label mates the fresh and only’s I’m certain we’ve had the pleasure of adorning our listening experience in recent times. Latest outing and something which I should say is quite beautiful is the new platter from No Joy. Prized from their forthcoming ‘wait to pleasure’ full length, ’lunar phobia’ finds the Montreal noise nik trio honing their craft to silken symphonic heights to blend a gorgeously surrendering serenade of celestially twinkled toned heavenly harmonics that sounds for the world like a Cocteau-ing love trance upon whose adoring softly murmured shoe gazed spun web a classic dream popped carnival of Lush, Curve and MBV apparitions have been snagged, snared and joyously threaded into a lush luxurious cavalcade of lunar-esque ethereal opines…

And following our extended mention of that quite simply superb square peg compilation a face book friend request came our way from one Kevin Byrne aka Seattle based dark electro maestro Morrison’s Prophecy, first up there’s an album ’the alchemical process’ to digest in due course though our interests were piqued by the spotting of a skeletal sketching of an intended Ozzy cover entitled ’Mr Crowley’ looming large on his Fb site. I’m suspecting that given the right kind of airplay attention that this little gem could turn a few well heeled heads. Marshalling a sonic texture beloved of a mid 80’s ZTT / Mute / play it again sam catalogue, upon a deceptively catchy Faltemayer like groove, Byrne wires a deeply magnetic industrial styled euro dance skin to the proceedings that loosely flirts around the edges of the more pop orientated aspects of SPK and Einsturzende Neubauten to manifest itself as were like an alluring post apocalyptic face off between colour box and front 242.

Now keeping up with the sombre mood only ever so slightly a charming little video to accompany the track ‘we live as we dream….alone’ from the Chemistry Set, an absolute gorgeous thing both track and video, originally appearing on the bands ‘this day will never happen again’ set from a year or so again – a copy of which I’m going to have to nab as my own. Those of a keen ear and tuned into the fruits de mer radar may well recognise snatches of this gem appearing in a re-branded form on the labels recent ‘crabs sells out / crabs freak out’ subscriber set wherein its been used by the band as a concert intro. Belied of a delicately spun pastoral psych purr, ’we live as we dream…alone’ is not the gloom trod tuneage that its deceptive title might fool you into first believing but rather more a sweetly spurred love note that channels a wood-crafted tapestry whose lineage traces to a classic late 60’s scene by way of tomorrow and yet comes finitely tempered and moulded in the sumptuous spring hued reflective glow of a ’skylarking’ era XTC song craft to be dimpled in a surrendering reflective sting. As to those dolls – don’t they spook mischievously like handmade devils from the village of damned.

The Chemistry Set – We Live As We Dream….Alone from Dave Mclean on Vimeo.

Incoming from dead leaf echo, old time favourites around these here parts, is their new long playing platter entitled ’thought and language’ out via neon sigh shortly. Past deeds have seen them opening for Chapterhouse and Ulrich Schnauss the latter of whom worked on the bands excellent ’pale fire’ EP from a few years back. With Cocteau Twins producer John Fryer on board for mixing duties ’thought and language’ is a by all account ambitious concept set whose connecting theme is the progressive development of a child from conception to birth and to the eventual discovery of thought and language. The album promises to blend a wide range of generic spectrums from their trademark shoe gaze safety zone to incorporate baroque, ambient, new wave and goth. We’ll try to nail copies for future missive action but for now you can grab yourself a teaser taster in the shape of ’memory traces’ which has just been plucked from the set to serve as a free to download herald via their website at – all crystalline opines, stratospheric sighs an the kind of stilled Cathedral-esque majesty that this trio have come to cut their teeth upon, the dream drifting arcs and the sheer bliss kissed grace of it all much recalls a prime time in rapture Ride with the added element of the much missed Skywave.

And as promised earlier we’re back with Steven Wilson – loosely – who features on the cover and in a rare centre piecing interview in the latest issue of PROG, inside Wilson gives a deeply personal and hitherto revealing insight into the mindset of this most secretive soul wherein he discusses his own mortality, the things that make him musically tick, his latest solo opus ’the raven that refused to sing (and other stories)’ as well as giving a short track by track commentary on each of the albums six sublime cuts. Elsewhere regular featurette ‘it’s prog Jim but not as we know it’ casts a considered eye and ear to former Action acolytes mighty baby’s self titled ‘69 debut while Prog’s original grumpy old man Rick Wakeman puts forward the case for a prog pantomime, loosely based on ’beauty and the beast’ his version wot he just wrote opines for backers we here are thinking a happy house ought to be found at Radio 4 – the comically publicised ’home of comedy’ though broadcasts at 6.30 Tuesday’s to Thursday’s might have the most reasonable of souls questioning their very loose interpretation of the description ‘comedy’. Demon of the green baize and regular lampoon recipient of the surrealistically sarcastic Spitting Image has these days found a life after snooker and skit reinventing himself as a prog authority with a Monday night platter spinning transmission via phoenix FM and in so doing has made interesting the new er – interesting – and here discusses at interesting length the joy of the piano and its virtual siblings with recommended citations for Zappa’s ’jazz from hell’ and the Gasman’s latest opus ’hiding place’. selected spots this issue find the prog viewfinder turned on by yugen, tundra and menomena with a hearty thumbs up going to the super best friends club whose hakisac released debut has been admittedly turning heads around these here parts. Of course there’s the readers poll vote count to contend with Anathema, Marillion, King Crimsonand Steven Wilson bagging the main honours. ’pet sounds’ by the Beach Boys is critically inspected within ’the albums that built prog’ while glass hammer, field music, riverside and ex mostly autumn songstress Heather Findlay get deserved column inches. As ever there’s the accompanying Prognosis CD which gathers together a selection of well heeled tuneage from the outer posts of the prog cosmos. Among the selection Mr Wilson coughs up the opening salvo to his current solo set. Split into three distinct suites ’luminol’ very much channels into environs oft traversed by the mighty Ozric Tentacles, amid this wildly acute and angular stew Wilson dips into the mix a seriously heavy prog jazz fusion that recalls the likes of soft machine and brand x in its initial moments before courting a moments serenity to visit familiar porcupine tree terrains emerging out of shadowy eclipse for a spot of big bearded boogie that imagines the mighty mountain in a art jazz face off with tank. Perhaps its just me who thinks Riverside’s heavy set rock a rolla ’celebrity touch’ tailgates a vibe much admired by leaf hound before dissipating mid way through and superbly going all woozy and lysergic in a ’on the Sunday of life’ type way. Those preferring their sounds steeled in a more classically vested Genesis styling will do well to tune into ’carousel’ by life signs who feature among their ranks a certain Nick Beggs who once of kajagoogoo these days is part of Steven Wilson’s extended touring family. Somewhere else there’s the bollock dropping spaced out freak frilled jazz gouged funk fried ’evolution’ by the clearly barking super best friends club to mess with your headspace which leaves the equally all over the shop trios capes to trash the remnants with their wildly erratic jazzed out funk stew ’blast off’. the recently reformed and dare we say legendary mufins take matters to the run out grooves with some deeply dizzy airy fairy willowy out there jazz light beard stroking groove in the guise of ’in the ghost light’ ripped as were from their current ’the mother tongue’ set on musea.

I’ll admit that by rights I’m not given over to subscribing to fads such as valentine day compilations or mix tapes, I mean why would I want to put myself through the torture of listening to trite tasteless tunes whose only existence in some cases is to serve as an depressing epitaph to a bad and ill advised relationship, there are still records out there that I’ve banished for eternity due to incurring unwanted memories and miseries. And so you can imagine there was an air of caution when we approached this set, our interest somewhat piqued by the promise of new material from Toronto based musician moonwood or Jakob Rehlinger as he’s known to friends and family. Now regular observers of these pages will need no introductions to the work or indeed our admiration for all things moonwood – if by chance you do then head over to his band camp page and prepare to be amazed – – that said it appears this freak folk experimentalist has in recent times discovered the joys of krautrock and via his latest offspring ‘trans martian express’ which has seen him scuttling along a sonic path much more commonly frequented by the likes of Zombi and cloudland canyon. And so sits his latest opus ’valhallantine’ which you can find on this loosely vibed Valentine selection put out by Jeunesse Cosmique entitled ’coeur et heart (aucune subvention pour faire cette compilation)’ – old school moonwood it is to that sees Mr Rehlinger returning back to sonic basics to carve something truly spiritual and cradled in an arid delta blues dimpling sand scratched in psych washed droning Tibetan mysticism as though the sparsely magnetic sound of the late Jack Rose had gone on retreat – obliquely stunning in short. L’autre Hugo ghosts in with the romantically shy eyed ‘je t’aime (quand meme)’ – set to a dinky key jaunt and silkily sprayed by a weeping string accompaniment whose winter teased velour may well have some of you more in-tuned folk rifling through your record collections in search of lost pickled egg platters by Gulliver and Le Bleu. those loving their listening experience sedated and smoked in loungey torch ought to hook up to the retro glazed sly eyed maroon 5 styled nocturnal funk of ‘wonder loved paradise’ by coco symphony house while Sebastian Trafalgar opts for a neat line in Ariel Pink styled fragmentation on the broken and oddly dislocated ’I’m a valentine man’. Loving the warping soft psych production that graces ‘helene’ by Hazy Montagne Mystique, gives it a kind of floaty ghost like texture as though the result of a discarded cassette having been left on a window ledge and wonkily tanned in the day time sun, the mellowing melodies melting into each other endow it with a Donovan like haziness. We’d be lying if we said we weren’t a tad taken with ylangylang’s ‘si’ – again annoyingly no information with which to impart to you but safe to say that had this come bearing the approval of the weird imprint branded on its hide we’d have been none to surprised, smouldered in a ghost like ornate lo-fi cosmic swirl, murmured harmonies seduce with exquisite ethereal elegance amid an airless nothingness much like unless our ears do deceive a lovelorn early incarnation of the knife. Similarly caught in the influential glare as were of the weird imprint appear to be Yetis Dei whose excellently titled ’emma told me donkeys and parrots don’t lie’ is the kind of beautifully bewildering sore thumb sound-scape you’d expect to find emerging from the grooves of one of those well heeled bearsuit compilations sounding as it does like some part homophonic part disturbed nursery rhymes cobbled from the body parts of truth about frank studio reels, the BBC radiophonic workshop, discarded Hitchcockian overtures and nightmarish blood chilled ghostly playground apparitions – does it for us it should be said. With three bites of the apple this compilation alone with the best appearing last, Flory Daahboys’ ’delicieuse rouge’ rounds up this remarkable set with a spot of lulling sleepy headed lounge tuneage which creaks, whirrs and woos with a delicately drifting South Pacific undercurrent dinked in cosmic grass skirts and appreciably at play wiring Meek motifs to rascal-ish Raymond Scott styled kookiness. Telephone maison steel in with ‘je ne sais plus’ and carve something truly out there, wasted and very much slacker-esque frisked by hazily spun reverbs sugar glazed in fuzz and hooked upon the kind of cosmic fluffiness that holds stars in the night sky, of course admirers of Spectrum will do well to check not least because it sounds so shit faced and distracted as though its arrived pre-packed with its own mind expanding chemical set. Nuff said.

Not sure whether its our ears, our speakers or the fact that the production on this is a little muddy but one things for certain its very low sounding, that said doesn’t deter or take anything away from the actual melodies contained within. This lot – incidentally a duo Perry and Kim – hail from Chicago and in a previous life as morphene have collaborated with one Dean Garcia which should come as no great surprise given that this lot kick and purr like a classic ‘doppelganger’ era Curve. Latest outing from A*Star in fact sees the band featuring on two split singles to be released within a fortnight of each other. Alas no sound clips just yet for their moon sounds release ’black and blue’ which sees them sharing groove space with porcupine – that said you can rest assured it’ll appear here once eyed, which leaves their imminent set with blindness via the boxing clever imprint. ’flashbulb’ is seductively sheathed in a darkly absorbing casing that shadow plays to a cross pollinating fusion that bleeds together elements of shoe gaze, goth and industrial, reference wise they draw and link the invisible dots existing between a mid career March Violets and Asobi Seksu and yes all this courted with the spectre of Curve sitting watchfully on their shoulder. As to blindness they stump up ’last one dies’ to complete their side of the bargain, again sounding not unlike a muscular latter career era Curve being spiked by an equally robust white rose movement all sumptuously set off with a coolly oozing vibrant cold wave strut. Essential in short.

Incoming on the much admired around these here parts polyvinyl imprint – the same label that brought you various ear candy from the likes of Saturday looks good to me, of montreal, joan of arc, owen and asobi seksu to name just a small select few is the latest platter from STRFKR entitled ‘Atlantis’. Ripped from a forthcoming double disc set ’miracle mile’, ’Atlantis’ is sugar dipped in an amorphous west coast haze all glittered in wistfully willowy honey glazes and kissed with sumptuous lazy eyed reclines that twinkle with purring effervescence as though tailored in the same handcrafted woodshed as a shyly eyed Avi Buffalo, inscribed in soft lysergic showers, draped in a distractive retro 70’s discofied funkiness all steeled in sky parting sirens and equipped with the kind of sultry undertow that you’d imagine perfectly sound tracking sun scarred festival nights. The sound of summer has arrived.


Staying with polyvinyl – if you train your mouse / cursor over you’ll be able to grab yourself a freebie 12 track sampler packed to the rafters with ear catchy treats from the labels roster. Among the goodies on show the acutely addictive ’sunglasses’ by Saturday looks good to me and the absolutely drop dead stunning ’object petit A’ by Harouki Zombi both of which we featured in full in recent missives. Elsewhere the generationalists kick up some nifty summer breezed heart stopping powered popped twee tastiness on the adorable ’spinoza’. admired around these parts for far longer than I care admit of montreal swoon and swerve to the heartbroken cool of ’our love is senile’ and with it lace the moment with a decidedly warped vision of a Beach Boys in lo-fi redux while psychic twin play peek a boo in the spectral cosmic wisps with the angelically treated St Etienne styled ‘strangers‘. ah – deerhoof – I can’t begin to tell you the affection and regard to which we hold for this lot, ’we do parties’ is typically scratched with a schizoid persona and wickedly wired up in wonky zig-zagging codas, kinda like a prime time Wire in some face off with the tigerbeat6 collective. Wampire serve up ‘the hearse’ to turn in something that fizzes, frazzles and fires like a ricocheting b-movie at full pelt. Kookiest cut of the collection without doubt comes from shugo Tucumcaru whose ridiculously infectious ‘katachi’ is possessed of the creatively crooked mindset of Cornelius. If smoked soul pop is your bag then look no further than Sunny Smith’s ‘if you don’t make a change’ while those steeled upon the mercurial talents of working for a nuclear city might find painted palms desirable ‘carousel’ something of a breath of fresh exuberant air. Latest loves stkfkr and the subject of the previous review posting lavish all manner of south seas exotica on the friskily dished trip dipped funk of ’while I’m alive’ while Japandroids wrap up the sampler with the bracing punch your lights out call to arms fury that is ‘adrenaline nightshift’. now tell me again why you wouldn’t want to download all this for nowt.

Rounding up this particular with something uplifting and radiant comes the blue veils with ‘quiet riot’ – we’ll bow out with just a short taster mention for this while we try to nail a full finished copy. Not officially out until the end of next month, ’quiet riot’ follows hot on the heels of the bands debuting ’out of the blue’ EP released last year to quiet acclaim. Unless our ears do deceive ‘quiet riot’ arrives adorned in the kind of stripped back call to arms sound not so dissimilar to that much reminiscent of a youthful Alarm though here found harnessing an uplifting reverie of feel good vibes corralled into a catchy ear candy swagger of needling riffage. Does it for us.

And so ends another tales from the attic. As ever many thanks for dropping by and taking time out to tune in. comments appreciated, receipt of records and other such gubbins more so – contact details as follows should you so wish….

Email – [email protected]

Interweb interface –

Snail mail – 71 Pennsylvania Road, LIVERPOOL, L13 9BA, UK

Next transmission primed for airing sometime mid week-ish – confirmed mentions for shama falama, transept, carolyn o’neill, preterite, yellow6, roadside picnic, steven Wilson and that other rogue a*star split plus more besides…

Whilst on the subject of records please note in your diaries that we will be doing a bumper record store day tales from the attic special in April so please prep your releases to the usual lines of communication – we should say at this point a huge thanks to the Tuesday Club who sent over an early call finished pressing of their debuting full length platter all pressed up on white wax and set to do brisk business on its record store day release – for more info go here

Till next time,
Peace……Mark xxx


God is in the TV is an online music and culture fanzine founded in Cardiff by the editor Bill Cummings in 2003. GIITTV Bill has developed the site with the aid of a team of sub-editors and writers from across Britain, covering a wide range of music from unsigned and independent artists to major releases.