Hobocombo have used the ethos of Moondog for their own compositions. What we have then is a mixture of Moondog and new work and the result is an intriguing one.
Now if that sounds like some sort of incantational nonsense on my behalf, then all I say to you is, run with it, motherfuckers! This review of The Ex can be nothing if NOT fucking mystical and magical
Katadreuffe are somehow grabbing a whole set of fractive, seemingly non-related noises and attitudes and watching them melt together in the white heat of the noise they generate.
far too polite for its own good
A crushing disappointment.
The forest remains the only dwelling where I feel fully at home. My grandma, who was raised in the Siberian wilderness, just let me run there freely from dawn till dusk, rarely worrying about me, as she knew I wasn’t a fool.
There are slight variations on the theme; but you know, it’s temporary, and we’re back to dragging the sonic stone round a Piranesi-like landscape.
In De DJ is Een Mietje the vox can sound like “the deejay is a meathead” even though it MEANS the deejay is a softypants. And on X-Static Tics’ Diejay Hardway Replay the deejay is accused of having a “complex”. Well I never.
Boy, does Koett know how to almost piss me off, only to quickly redeem himself with the turn of a beat or phrase.
It’s a sort of Academy of Moondog kindergarten sound happening right in front of your very eyes…
Shit this is a classic (non) listen, a pulsating “neverworld”, the womb of some crazy fucked up sky goddess who’s got kicked out of whatever astral plane she was residing on because she played her Borngräber & Strüver records too bloody loud…
And I'd like to hate on POST NL that continue to raise their prices, making mail ordering from labels less fun than it could be.
Play More Alien than Aliens once and you’ll think I’m stark raving nuts and a massive lying bastard to boot. Play More Alien than Aliens more than three times, you’ll be out there.
Almost quaint examples of space travel, a pop Cluster working for the DDR, times past squinted at through a refracted prism...
Fireflies is something out of time; and something quietly special in an overcrowded and often over exposed field.
As ever with Rob St John’s work, there’s an incredible amount of incidental detail that eventually (if you let matters slowly gestate) seeps into enriching the whole.
There’s no real time for you the listener to sit comfortably as it’s a full on Trippe from the opening notes.
THIS record is psychedelic. It’s completely lost in a sort of speed freak Tim Buckley stream-of-consciousness way.
At times Concrescence comes across as a sort of extremely heavy Fairport; albeit with someone giving Dave Swarbrick a double headed axe to play with.
...the music often hovers like some miasma in a churchyard; at times in tracks like ICA things get very "Pre Raph" in spirit.