heavy chisels, pliant filigree: joe murray on bridget hayden

October 6, 2014 at 8:42 pm | Posted in new music, no audience underground | Leave a comment
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Bridget Hayden – Just Ideas/The Night’s Veins (tape, Singing Knives Records)

bridget hayden - just ideas, the night's veins

Due to my doofus drunken behaviour I’ve never seen Bridget Hayden play live.  Even when we were in the same building I managed to miss all but 45 glorious seconds of her set at Colour Out of Space due to booze related yapping.  She’s been top of my ‘must check out’ list since then so I’m delighted to announce the great Singing Knives record label have telepathically picked up on my selfish wish and re-released these two tiny CD-rs from 2002 and 2007 on one handy prison standard tape.*

Side one is modestly entitled ‘Just Ideas’ and taking the title at face value I expected sketches, half thought-out doodles – a sonic sketchbook – but there’s not a jot of sloppiness or self absorption here dear reader.  These four short, untitled jams evoke an encyclopaedia of images:

  • The weather-beaten Sioux whispering into buffalo horn against the shimmer of summer rain and nerdy clip-clop of goats in felt boots.
  • The sunblinded ecstasy of scorching summer holidays with boredom reaching almost sexual levels until an octave-change-thing on harmonium makes it sound like sad news is coming…
  • Hawks circling high above the canyons: multiple recordings of gritty descant recorders like the world’s most psychedelic primary school orchestra conducted by Rhys Chatham.
  • Slide guitar played like Elmore James never ever existed and the blues sprung fully-formed from a JG Ballard short story.

…but it’s the details that make these pieces stand out so.  It’s the short intake of breath, the close miked gasp, the quivering tremble of distortion that make these four pieces so god damn moreish.  Phew!

Side two offers another insight into rarity with the ripping macadam of ‘They’ve sent me to a trust asylum’.  Heavy chisels gouge out spirals of soft metal in ever more intricate patterns leaving pliant filigree on the workshop floor.  The feedback/skronk is heavy for sure (VU Sister Ray style) but strangely floating in the middle of the room like fag smoke rather than sneaking to the four corners.  This allows greater listening in an almost 3D space.  I move up, around and behind the thin blue waves to better see the edges.

‘Your Heart is your Thumb’s Usher’ and ‘Cracked Open’ starts with the sort of thin keening vocal tape work I dream of over cave-like ratiug sdrawkcab making melody into a purely rhythmic piece. Hwhab, hwhab, hwhab. What would once be ‘ringing pings’ become humming bees, feedback squeals evolved into erotic morse code.  It’s an amazing grace.


*But what’s all this prison standard stuff?  Well, the body of this tape is totally clear.  That way the screws can tell if you’re trying to smuggle something (loot, booty, snout) inside.  But of course what the Guv’ner would never figure on is the music itself.  This is a perfect high.  Dose me!

Singing Knives

99 arguments for universal healthcare: in aid of tom carter

November 14, 2013 at 12:34 pm | Posted in new music, no audience underground | Leave a comment
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Various Artists – For Tom Carter (Bandcamp download, Deserted Village, DV44)

tom carter

I imagine many of you that read this blog will be fans of the work of guitarist Tom Carter and the band Charalambides, of which he and Christina Carter form the core.  Since the early 1990s the band has been mapping out their folk/psyche explorations and the atlas of their influential work is large, fascinating and worth poring over in detail.  Many of you will also know of the unfortunate events that overtook them last year.  Whilst on tour in Europe Tom caught pneumonia and was hospitalised in Berlin, eventually spending 15 days in a medically-induced coma as a treatment for sepsis, 40 days in total in the intensive care unit then several weeks in rehab.  Fucking hell, eh?  Thankfully, he has put this shocking trauma behind him but, despite having health insurance, still faces a staggering bill for the care he received.

Such is the loveliness of the experimental music community there has been much rallying around and heartening attempts to help take the edge off this ridiculous burden.  One such project is the compilation album For Tom Carter, constructed by the top-notch label Deserted Village and available via their Bandcamp site.  There, for a perfectly reasonable donation of seven and one half euros (or more), you can download no less than 99 (!) tracks in support of the cause.

Any review of such an epic undertaking could only scoop a fingerful of the cream atop this giant bowl of trifle so we’re not even going to attempt one.  Suffice to say that there are plenty of ‘big’ names – Richard Youngs, Vibracathedral Orchestra, Sun Burned Hand Of The Man, MV & EE, Bardo Pond etc. – plenty of comrades from the no-audience underground – The Piss Superstition, Core of the Coalman and so on – and dozens of names new to me that I will soon be crawling all over discogs to research.  Tom is on it too, of course.  The track listing has to be seen to be believed – an awesome effort fully deserving of your time and money.

Buy here.

…and whilst you are wandering around the Deserted Village why not check out Gavin Prior’s intriguing collage/document piece Babbleon Cork (DV43) which can be had for nowt.

wired for sound part 20: julian bradley – oto/t01

October 24, 2011 at 7:57 am | Posted in fencing flatworm, no audience underground | Leave a comment
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Julian Bradley – oTo/T01

Julian Bradley – oTo/T01

Not sure what you are looking at?  Here’s a primer: an account of the oTo tape project can be read here, it is mentioned again at Bang the Bore here (and elaborated on in part two here), thoughts on my erratic bromance with Julian are here, and an evaluation of his recent endeavours here.

Once you’ve digested that little lot it will become obvious that the mysterious glow emanating from this post is the light of historical significance.  What you are seeing is literally (a scan of) the very first oTo tape: number 1 of 50 of T01.  Click the link below the scan to hear its contents in glorious 320kbpsmp3orama.

I was inspired to dig this out after reading a review of Alan Splet’s wonderful soundtrack to Eraserhead in the October, ‘Halloween Special’, issue of Hiroshima Yeah!  Didn’t I once compare Julian’s oTo tape to Splet’s sound design?  I did:

24 minutes of geological lo-tek. Guitars, tape loops, document a sound heard deep under the earth, or deep inside your head. Alan Splet meets Vibracathedral Orchestra. Tick the ‘other’ box and leave the comments blank.

From the original oTo sub-site at fencing flatworm recordings.  Pretentious, probably, but accurate in my humble opinion and Julian was flattered by the comparison (obviously still is as he has used this description on his discography page).

So I lit a candle and headed down the greasy, treacherous, stone steps to the vault underneath RFM Towers.  After tossing the place I eventually found it hidden behind my copy of Unaussprechlichen Kulten by Friedrich von Junzt (a dog eared translation, not the German original – alas) and whilst among the grimoires I noticed the rest of the oTo tapes looking smart in a regimented row upon a high shelf.  I was asked recently if I planned a digital afterlife for oTo and, in short, my answer was ‘no’.  Perhaps enough of my finite and irreplaceable life has been sunk in this direction already, but favourites and oddities may surface here occasionally…

just what is the piss superstition?

October 13, 2011 at 7:56 pm | Posted in musings, new music, no audience underground | Leave a comment
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The Piss Superstition – Dallas’ Amp (Medusa 062)

Sometimes this ‘writing about music’ lark is easy.  Present me with a piece that I can get a handle on and I will happily tug that handle and catch the words that tumble out.  Stick in a few tortured metaphors, add a little self-referential narcissism, clip into paragraphs and I’m done: 50 hits, a tweet and three mentions on facebook in the bag.  Alas, the standard procedure is no good when it comes to the work of Julian Bradley, forever to be known as ex-Vibracathedral Orchestra, now groovin’ his own way under the puzzling moniker of The Piss Superstition.  Any attempt by me to describe his unique aesthetic involves a lot of pen-chewing, window-staring and laptop ignoring.

OK, let’s try this:

Imagine being shaken awake at 3am to discover two huge alien creatures looming over your bed.  You roll over onto your front thinking “Christ, it has only been a fortnight since the last probe,” but tonight they aren’t interested in your fundamental aperture.  Instead they want information: “WHAT IS MUSIC?” barks Alien One, “QUICKLY!!”  “Err… sometimes it has guitars in it,” you mumble blearily.  “GOOD.  WHAT ELSE?” says Alien One.  “Uh… keyboards too?  Percussion – you know rhythmic pulses,” you say, warming to the topic as you wake up, “music is sound organised as to…”  “OK, OK, ENOUGH OF THE PHILOSOPHICAL SHIT,” snaps Alien One then turns to Alien Two and asks: “YOU GET ALL THAT?”  Alien Two motions with his space pen at the space writing on his space notepad and they disappear.

Back on Planet X, for reasons known only to them, they treat your sketchy responses as a sacred text and build a whole tradition of composition upon them.  Eventually SETI picks up a performance of the results and it is examined by the world’s leading xenomusicologists.  “Well…,” they say, “all the elements are there but it is scorched with wrongness.  It isn’t that we don’t get it – more like we can’t.”

Or, if you are short of time, how about this:

Julian has found a way of cutting and pasting music into Google Translate and has amused himself by pinging it back and forth between languages.  Once the entropy of the process has removed meaning and context altogether, once all that is left is an incommensurably strange residue, he then offers it to us.

Still no?  OK, how about an anecdote with a punchline?  On the evening of Wednesday 12th October 2011 in the Fox & Newt here in the beautiful garden city of Leeds I saw The Piss Superstition (beefed up to a power duo by the addition of the charming Paul Steere) play live.  Over the course of about 20 minutes of performance they blew my mind.  As I swept up the splinters I made the mistake of prematurely trying to talk about it.  First to Paul Walsh, who didn’t notice me not making any sense as he’d had a few, then to Phil Todd who listened patiently to my incoherent monologue and occasionally tried to chip in.  He was rescued by Julian himself who appeared at my elbow, took our praise with his usual grace, and summed up his philosophy in one crisp seven word sentence:

I just want it to sound fucked.

There you have it.  Anyone into the kind of stuff I write about here should be checking out Julian’s work.  I consider it essential.  This tape, for example, is nicely representative of his recent vibe and is available to buy from the wonderful Canadian outfit Medusa.  Julian also has copies to sell so approach him direct and, whilst you are at it, ask him about the CD-rs he probably has knocking around too – aggressive self-promotion is not his strong suit.

clough, truant, termite club, phil todd and the lost second album

May 21, 2011 at 2:06 pm | Posted in fencing flatworm, musings, no audience underground | 4 Comments
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ff010 truant – zellaby’s beautiful sacrifice

Michael Clough, known universally as Clough, or Cloughy to his closest confidants, bestrode the Leeds experimental music scene like a loose-limbed, roll-up-smoking colossus.  A scholar of improvised music, a dry wit and as Yorkshire as a pontefract cake, he played bass in the legendary kraut/prog outfit Rancid Poultry and their successors PRP Group.  The latter were so rigourously mysterious that, despite a weekly rehearsal commitment, the trio’s compulsive perfectionism meant recordings were rare and gigs vanishingly uncommon.  He also manipulated squiggle-boxes for microsound troupe Klunk and helped run the Leeds free-music institution Termite Club.  It is through the latter that we came to be friends.

Cloughy, like Julian who I was bromancing at a similar time, was one of those chaps I was always glad to see at gigs because I knew that, in his company, the night would be fun no matter the quality of the music.  We met for lunch, along with Neil Campbell, once a week to talk nonsense about music and when I picture him he is always wearing a shirt (sleeves rolled up) and tie as he had always ‘come straight from work’.  I left his wedding reception early in order to see Whitehouse.  It was perhaps inevitable, given our shared interest in long-form electronic music, that we would hatch a band together.

The name ‘Truant’ came about, I think, as a kind of joke: Cloughy was busy with PRP Group, I was busy with midwich/fencing flatworm – Truant was what we did when we were bunking off.  The idea was simple: we would create semi-improvised, fairly lengthy tracks constructed from loops and throbs ‘playing themselves’ over which Clough would add a moody bassline.  Our very first attempt was recorded for posterity, prosaically titled ‘rehearsal’ and skillfully mixed by Cloughy into something we both thought promising.  You can hear it by clicking on…

In fact, so proud was I of this swing-and-hit that I clipped two bits out to be the A and B sides of a 7″ single.  Money stopped this from being realised, unfortunately, so why not imagine sliding a black disc onto a turntable as you click on the below:

  1. church and state part 1
  2. church and state part 2

There were three gigs I can remember (by which I mean document – I keep my memories in box files as my head is not entirely reliable), all of which took place in the space-age year 2000.

The gig above was on a blisteringly hot summer Sunday.  We throbbed and shimmered as people rolled up then joined in with the slack-jawed-but-delighted response to outsider magician June Powers.  He entertained us with a set of untricks that had us worrying about his mental health.  This was so odd that if its reality wasn’t confirmed by the poster I’d have thought that I dreamt it.  Vibracathedral were in their prime and finally put to bed all those Velvet Underground comparisons by playing with their backs to the audience behind a curtain of silver tinsel – you see?  Nothing like ’em!  Note comical entrance fee – those were’t days, eh?

Secondly came one of my favourite experiences of playing live.  Again at the Royal Park, again sweltering – though this time due to being rammed with people.  As Jackie-O Motherfucker had about 27 members and the stage was full of gear, we set up at the mixing desk.  The vibrations from our bass-heavy set started the drum skins hissing and strings vibrating until the instruments on stage were playing themselves.  When Jackie-O came on they jammed along with us before, as we faded out, beginning their meandering proper.  It was a magical moment for me.

The third and final gig of 2000 was at the terrific Termite Club Festival in November.  In between this and the last gig Truant had become a power trio with the addition of Phil Todd on guitar.  Phil had recently moved to Leeds from Stoke and needed to be distracted from his oatcake withdrawal.  He did this by getting involved with every musical project within a five mile radius of the Adelphi Hotel (now cruelly gentrified, alas).

I remember this weekend very fondly despite many of the reasons for doing so being ignoble or infamous.  Cloughy and I were on the door on Friday and the headliners V/VM gave us a bunch of CDs to sell on their behalf.  After their gruelling set of mangled pop covers we gave this unwanted product back to a guy we thought was a member of the band.  Unfortunately, he wasn’t and the bewildered punter scarpered with his unexpected haul.  In our defense V/VM were playing wearing masks, but they were unimpressed with our gaffe and later made caustic remarks about Arts Council funded gigs which I suspect were aimed at us.  Oops.

The headliner booked for Saturday was legendary improv guitarist Derek Bailey (who sadly died in 2005 – rest in peace, Derek).  A few days before the show, I was sat staring at the peeling wallpaper in my slug-infested hovel when the ‘phone rang: it was him!  At first I was so star-struck that I didn’t really cotton on to what he was saying.  “Holy fuck!  Derek Bailey is speaking to me!” I thought, “He’s telling me that he has the shits so bad he has to cancel!  Amazing!  Hang on, wait a minute – what was that?!”  Luckily, Paul Hession (officially the best percussionist in the UK) who had been booked as Bailey’s foil roped in fellow free-jazz wildmen Mick Beck (wind) and Pat Thomas (keys) to play instead.  They delighted the crowd by channelling the spirit of Sun Ra and tearing the place up.  Sometime later Mick offered me the recording of this set to release on fencing flatworm and I bit his hand off.

But I get ahead of myself – earlier it was our turn.  I was already jittery having been shouted at by Mick Flower of Vibracathedral for standing on a snake’s nest of cables that was apparently a vital component of his set-up (though now I suspect he was joking with me – not always easy to tell).  I attempted to gloss over my nerves with beer and volume.  I was ‘playing’ a loop of vinyl out-groove crackle that was layered and amplified into a wall of white noise, Cloughy’s vintage synth gave out a bowel-churning wobble, Phil took the role of the absent Bailey and crashed out some improv guitar.  We had people pressed against the back wall of the venue, including some hapless work colleagues who had turned up out of politeness and had no idea what was happening.  I enjoyed it but Phil was grumpy that I had drowned out his solos.  I thought we were ‘sparring’ but was apparently mistaken.  Heh, heh – I’ll never understand how improv is supposed to ‘work’.  Maybe we should have rehearsed.

Anyway, I’m unsure of the chronology but the first album must have been recorded around this time, as a three piece, in Cloughy’s attic, mixed by him and released as ‘zellaby’s beautiful sacrifice’ by me on ffr.  One track, titled that fight you lost, clocking in at well over half an hour, built from relentless throbbing (Clough), loops and swooshes (me) and guitar maltreated in various interesting ways (Phil).  Phil is dismissive of his playing on this piece but I dig it.  All hipster fans of Emeralds please note: this is how it should be done.

At some later date the three of us returned to the attic to record the follow up and here began the end of Truant.  The recording was, I think,  more ambitious and more accomplished than our first attempt and I was impressed with the first mix.  However, as I remember it (and note: I am an unreliable narrator) Clough wanted less guitar and Phil, unsurprisingly, wanted more.  The issue was never resolved, the album, ironically titled ‘The Truant Accord’, was quietly shelved, and Truant ceased to be.  I was pleased to have done something so rock ‘n’ roll as to split up over musical differences but other than that the situation sucked.  Years past.

I realise that throughout I have been referring to Cloughy in the past tense.  This is not a eulogy, the guy hasn’t died.  It’s worse: he moved to London.  Ha!  I jest.  He and his better half Marie are enjoying life in the seething metropolis and getting on with the business of raising a kid.  We had drifted apart but, in an amusing piece of synchronicity, he got in touch via this blog at almost exactly the same time Phil and I dug out and re-listened to the long lost second Truant album.  We did this independently of each other – the time is obviously ripe.  All disagreements have been forgotten and when a CD-r was suggested there was a vigorous nodding of heads.

So watch this space.  Coming soon on Memoirs of an Aesthete/fencing flatworm recordings…

EDIT: Phil offers a correction: 

If I remember rightly, the 2nd CD didn’t get released cos I wanted to hold out to find a label who would do it as a proper CD –  never happened needless to say…

Heh, heh – told you I wasn’t to be trusted!  Hah – I’m gonna front it out: I’m a storyteller, not a historian…

julian bradley and the piss superstition

April 15, 2011 at 7:15 pm | Posted in musings, new music, no audience underground | 2 Comments
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the piss superstition – a themepark for whatever happened before

8 tracks, 12″ vinyl lp, memoirs of an aesthete, moa lp 5

As mentioned in previous posts, the best thing about writing this blog is that it has led to me rekindling contact with ol’ comrades from the no-audience underground milieu.  The latest is the chap above, although this was done in a lengthy and circuitous manner entirely in keeping with our later relationship.

Back in the heady, decadent days of fin de siècle Leeds, I saw a lot of Julian.  I trotted around after Vibracathedral Orchestra, loudly proclaiming them to be the best band in Britain, and at some point made the transition from fan to friend.  This ramped up when I moved into a slug infested hovel around the corner from where Julian was living.  He was spending his time recording, fending off burglars and recovering from a heart-rending change in his personal circumstances.  Understandably we were both keen to get out and spent a fair amount of time in pubs or at gigs together.  Our styles complimented each other – him: dryly comic, me: over-exuberant and ridiculous.

The solo stuff he was creating at the time, self-released on tape with hand crafted covers, is amongst my favourite ‘experimental’ music: a sparse, muddy cocktail of mechanical groaning and post-industrial hiss.  If you are imagining Alan Splet’s soundtrack for Eraserhead then you aren’t far off.  Very, very high end stuff with packaging that perfectly mirrored the off-kilter sensibility.  Covers below:

He was the one that convinced me to go ahead with the ludicrous/magnificent oTo tape project and ’twas he that travelled up with me and my then girlfriend to the legendary 2002 gig hosted by Lee ‘Culver’ Stokoe at the Cumberland Arms in Newcastle.  A flyer he produced specifically for this gig contained the first mention I saw of his urinal credulity:

So what happened?  Well, our friendship faltered as I got ill and took a short break from music and music people that somehow stretched into years.  This falling away was not helped by the totally lackadaisical attitude the man has towards keeping in touch.  Seriously, if Julian hasn’t spoken to you in three years don’t take it personally – he’s just grooving his own way and will get around to it eventually.  Though you may have to wait until you bump into him at a gig – which is what I did a few weeks ago.  The meet-up which was mooted that evening took several more weeks to arrange but was worth the wait.  I was delighted to discover that Julian retains his place in the Leeds demimonde, drinking until closing time at the Brudenell Social Club and speed-smoking duty-free roll-ups.  We poked the embers of our bromance with a stick and it flared up nicely.

In a happy coincidence, the release of the record above (on Phil Todd’s label Memoirs of an Aesthete) fell between meeting one and meeting two.  First thought: wow, a vinyl lp.  I listen to vinyl so rarely nowadays that I almost have to make an appointment to do so.  Still, as I was saying about 12″ singles, it shows a faith in the work and demands a level of concentration that more portable formats can dodge.  This is wholly appropriate.

Norman Records have a decent stab at describing the sound:

…this gives the impression of somebody having turned the gravity off in a psychedelic garage band’s practice space with all their equipment turned on so all the effects, guitars and amps float around, collide, interact and feed back off each other in consistently delightful ways…

I love the image, and I think it gets across the idea of the space that Julian’s music contains, but I’m tempted to go the other way and focus on the heaviness.  For me, Julian’s work has always called to mind machinery, often on an unimaginable scale, working to some forgotten purpose, on the brink of being overwhelmed by entropy and halting altogether.  Listening is like being one of the humans sucked up into the vast, sentient machines in Pohl & Kornbluth’s classic novel Wolfbane.  It is an absolutely brilliant way of conveying the devastating effort it takes to feel something, anything in this alienating world we live in.

Repeat listens bring these structures into focus.  An example: the opening (title) track is, at first listen, pretty harsh.  This was a surprise as Julian’s stuff, whilst challenging, is rarely punishing.  The second time I heard it, and knew what to expect, I was so tuned in that it felt like a completely different track – I thought I’d put side B on by mistake.  Yes, the album works on a visceral level but is also full of layers and reveals to reward the careful consumer.

Have I said enough?  Do I even need to mention that this is a criminally limited edition sure to be sought after in future?  I would seriously consider acquiring a copy if I were you.

archive ransacked, discography complete

April 3, 2011 at 7:39 pm | Posted in blog info, fencing flatworm, midwich, no audience underground | Leave a comment
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Radiofreemidwich is delighted to announce that the crack team of archivists engaged in the task of compiling catalogue raisonné de Hayler have finally published their work.  The previously ramshackle discography page is now sharply formatted and as comprehensive as it is ever going to get.  Aside from a few gaps to be accounted for below, every release is represented with a cover pic, catalogue details and freely downloadable mp3s.  Some notes:

The gaps

Mp3s are not available for three days in, four to go as, amazingly, it is still available to buy.  Please go to Carbon Records and surprise Joe with an order – this really is a good one and the silk-screened cover is lovely.  Similarly, the two culver vs midwich tapes can be had via Lee at the ever-inspirational Matching Head.  I’m also holding off on months, years (both original and reissue) and raised ironworks in the hope that more units of these cdrs can be shifted.  Finally, With Maples Ablaze is not my release to post.

Noteworthy additions

Amongst the newly available stuff are all my appearances on compilations.  This is a mixed bag, I have to admit, but why not dip your toe in by trying an excerpt from a very drunken gig Neil Campbell and I did back in the hazy days of Summer 2002?

Talking of live stuff, there is a shonky but historic recording of the ffrkestra – basically everyone who played on the evening of a ffr themed gig in the year 2000 plus members of Vibracathedral Orchestra and a bit of audience participation.  I may write more about this in future.

I will definitely be writing more about Truant: the kraut/noise power trio of me, Michael Clough and Phil Todd.  The first rehearsal recording, featuring Clough/Hayler as a duo, can be found in the listing for in brine.  The first album, zellaby’s beautiful sacrifice – recorded after we’d been joined by Phil, is also now downloadable.

Finally, I’ll mention ‘this whole process’ which probably merits a post of its own as well.  This 25 minutes of relentless throbbing, best enjoyed at ridiculous volume, was released as my half of a split cdr with Moon.  This was not what I originally planned for what was to be my magnum opus, my ‘strings of life’, my step up to the next level.  Instead it turned out to be the beginning of the end for midwich v1.0.  Buy me a ginger beer and I’ll tell you the story…

All of these tracks can be heard via links on the ‘rob hayler discography’ page – please click on the tab above.

astral – ashtray – wordpress

January 30, 2011 at 10:47 am | Posted in blog info, new music, no audience underground | Leave a comment
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Having seen the trail blazed by radiofreemidwich and, in Neil’s case at least, wanting to get away from the increasingly moribund embarrassment of myspace, two of this blog’s fave musical turns can now be found on WordPress: Astral Social Club and Ashtray Navigations.  Both blogs are in their infancy but will no doubt prove worthy of regular patronage.  Visit for news of gigs, new releases, opportunites to buy various gubbins and, if you are lucky, exclusive noise.  For instance, the Ashtray blog is the only place I have seen the excellent ‘Ink Clouds and Axe Revealer’ CDR for sale (see Idwal Fisher review punted below) and the Astral blog contains some juicy morsels from a fairly recent gig Neil did with Mick Flower, former Vibracathedral teammate.  Given how hopeless I am at keeping up, I am delighted to see both.

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