Filthy Fuckers-'Paradise...' (Already Dead Tapes-AD188)

Stabbed to death at some careful carnival with strong sugar headache, suicidal memoir fixed to fall in love, frightened by public withdrawl from steel shovel bent with rust by slacker syndrome with money issues. Knowledge of the where abouts of JFK, and his army of lubricated cradle shakers.

Still birth therapy with bright red pens, concentrated anatomy creeps unto folded scapel in some new blood changing vein with accidental rage induced coma spirit with poetic background... Sitting with cold mold on lap, in one hand gripping a basement filled with used cars from runaway champions, necklaces hanging from multiple mother necks with scars resembling night, and day...

Filthy Fuckers-'Paradise' releases an aching stomach filled with clinical gas, fallen blade recalled permanent tolerance against damaged beyond. 'Night Lights' was an amazing way to open this record, and by ending it on 'Slow Train' an even better way to be guided out, and away...  Awesome record guys!

https://alreadydeadtapes.bandcamp.com/album/ad188-filthy-fuckers-paradise

http://alreadydeadtapes.com/adt/filthy-fuckers-paradise-out-now/

John Bellows-'Long EP.' (Planted Tapes-PT006)

Slow motion ceramic doll spinning dancing under rocking chair reality lost behind pleasures of soft skin, and public acts of rage, subtle oppurtunities of falling apart beside cold railroad standing above tonbstone footprints around favorite date. Permanent palm readings leave anxious glow around plain scorn body, confused with skyscrapper dilema falling from the top level, landing on some hazardous conversation below...

Such a beautiful release from John Bellows on Planted Tapes. The 'Long EP' is full of personal growth, and spiritual deprivation, lost, and simultaneously found filled with common scripture, and to the ocean floor board a legendary emotion surfacing for everyone to seek, and grasp like air that is fresh, and clean...

Begging faith like a newspaper thief, and praying under swami look a like, John Bellows voice is like a sunset setting behind a junkyard moon, the course for a progressive war drafting the gourd overshot by overwelcomed sickness, and shadows. Self inflicted divine weather forces down like a young jaded hero without finger prints checking into motel with myth, and soft solitude, transcendental pleasures perched embarrased like a skeleton scholar...

http://plantedtapes.blogspot.com/2016/01/pt006-john-bellows-l-o-n-g-ep.html?m=1

Hayden Pedigo-'Do You Sing-Vol:1.' (Scissor Tail Records)

Good morning prescription, still based murder in an old tshirt retreating back into an old fever cave with wife, left leg wrecked, right eye permanent, and lost in generic sunset lifting from vibrating supplement. Strums cryptic lullabyvwith strong claws digging at the oak body telling stories of exciting fatherhood in early spanish company... Broke, and still carrying legendary disease wanting o come home...

Hayden Pedigo brings fortglh on this beautiful record(Do You Sing-Vol:
1) the essentials of human feeling. Love, passion, loneliness, pain... The silver linings not so much focused on staying above water in the scense of survival, but to simply bath as a way of catching up with old friends without names, and faces, but whom brought expert change to your mind, and body that we stand in like costumes for the gentle youth breathing aloud.

What a gorgeous memoir of steady growth, and expierence.

https://scissortail.bandcamp.com/album/do-you-sing-vol-1

The Library of Babel-'Blue 19.' (Blue Tapes, And X-Ray Records)

Body odor from despairing silhouette leaning against rib cage in diamond mist, funeral insight is rare in the cause, and effect of reactions to world growth, and substance. Odd angels with broken arms limping in sunset reading tender love letters behind dumpster, mumbling in the cold hard snoe, shaking with their fingers in their warm mouths... Mantras open, and lucid daring anyone, and anything to interfear with its beauty.

Authorizing servant sorcery as a ways to pay off deadly debts with the prehistoric courts, and their mature headaches... The Library Of Babel have created a reality considering the loss of a child, the steady struggle and pain of nerves twisting like branches into ladders for the viewer to gasp such internal damage.

This wonderful record is the sound of body functions after midnight, your partner laying beside you as your features distort under hotwater bath, and become even more attractive, and at that moment they both realize that its all right there. Distractions blinding, and unconceivable, they understand each other for the first time, they breath together the piano wire its splinters their voice in the chair. They sleep still, and still sleep...

https://bluetapes.bandcamp.com/album/blue-nineteen

Father Murphy-'Calvary.' (Blue Tapes, And X-Ray Records)

Laced with organic turmoil, bleeding buisness sideways with swords slicing through oval poison with warm breast milk, powder perfecting adaptive flowers steady with thumb salt. Harsh addictions to ugly oils, vikings release voodoo examinations for educated pilots flying over great wall of sprane, and cargo. Vast positive body positions in paranoia vest leaning over bloody lake casting fire, and ice on the backs of consumers, and their foundational poetry readings. 'I have a dream... But I cant remember where I left it...'

Water dripping from the ships body, copper chains they bang against their thirsty cages in morse code revealing stories of magicians with eating disorders, priests with hungry labotomies... All mid life crisis propraganda starts wars inside the head, Father Murphy are the medicine for our
generation, and its troubled complexes.

https://fathermurphy.bandcamp.com/album/calvary

https://bluetapes.bandcamp.com/album/blue-fifteen

Droneroom-'Piss Poor.' (Sweet Sounds Records #7)

Nothing spoiled, wasted, or left to the black blue birds with incredible height, and distance, nothing... Every piece of this body harvested, cured for complete assault. Exhales through muted silhouette without words reaching for remaining body, the rest lies sideways in black frozen creek... Freezing digital, lonely with clear chipped arrow in hand, odd exhausted smoke falls out mouth while wire rests against pale horse. Rotted Tarot with splinters, and without future... Grinding fish to a silver soup studying newspaper romance with old blood background.

This release from Droneroom is a sacrafise of particles, and thick twisted carbon vain pumping hotflash into a soft dress. Punching in gold backbone, and wrapping iron with Cairo limb. Blake Edward Conley... You already know my man.

https://sweetsoundsrecords.bandcamp.com/album/piss-poor

The Oscillation-'Monographic.' (Hands In The Dark Records)

Radiating scholar tunes into the captivating heirlooms that leak a glowing mess into the rapid bone ticks that are our expierence, a dynasty relateable to a head on cullision, car wreck scents fill the ballroom skin, and like wall paper it peels like the anniversary of mother, and semi father. Blistered remote control sculptures hang quietly above in ground graveyard shift robbers at gun point standing stabbing silently with toothaches. Treasure chest injections installed via thumb inside gas station chambers by friendships, and removals...

The Oscillation are the growing pains of vampires whom hang tough in the caves where wisdom, and enlightenment are struck, like gold they shine, but never harvested to be spent.

Exotic Claritin mask worn tightly through thick stero jungle, wide eyed posion body forces fumes to polish, blood textbooks read aloud eatable texts like monopoly death... The Oscillation are a multiheaded creature, and without a name, this thing is known not for what it eats, but its tastes, and strengths.


http://theoscillation.com/the-oscillation-monographic/

Night Auditor-'Romance EP.' (Folktale Records)

Swift corduroy galaxies lunge swimming brightly, electrical currents in forever night life lights relief from sustainable overdoses on midway in subway. Glass sharpie high bubbling tar in corners of pink mouth monthly, smiling at heavy set operator while he rolls civilians city tolkiens through fingers, bitten lip, while laughing at agoraphobia shadows with dull knives in their mouths screaming romantic originals to his sacred audience bleak, and troubled with uncontrolable dreams.

This is the 'Romance EP' from Night Auditor for the ears of ears without errors, this is a release teaming with destroyed kisses, and broken glass bottle issues all stirring in a sensual esape of the body. Wondering highway leathers supported by wet vague voices, whipped by eyeshadow realities, some James Joyce figurine burning over boardgame dinner table, candles steaming like a crystal shower head.

Blowing these candles out has not casted darkness, but has resolved the issues of warmth, and shyness, expousing the so called radio breads to us as we hold hands for the sake of romance...

https://nightauditor.bandcamp.com/album/romance-ep


http://folktalerecords.com/releases/ft075/

Father Murphy-'Croce.' (The Flenser)

A powerful single that splits atoms with cold blade from some legendary weighside. Electrical socket waterpuddle dungeon where spirits recite unforgettable Ginsberg while bitting fingernails with iron door blood taste, graves overflow with ectoplasmic self portraits, and warm ink...

Father Murphy( a favorite of mine) spiral through such true human complex that takes place, as well as form in early flesh statue creations on fever borders across chest, and ribs of the 1932 heart palpatations. Breathing along with this track '(Croce') is nothing short of a free fall from Christs eyelash blinking bed time stories sleeping heavy eyes that dont blink but twice...

https://fathermurphy.bandcamp.com/album/croce

http://store.theflenser.com/products?search=father+murphy&search-submit=

Willamete-'Diminished Compositon.' (Scissor Tail Records)

This is a solid reflection of old war time stories reversed back into the pockets of those abstract leather leaders conquering fruit fields, and french stlye funeral horns blowing into the cold grey sky, searching for the Titanics frozen memories. She kisses the water reflecting onto the ice scary, and lucid to the people becoming all around.

We watch the Diminished Composistions of the children frozen to their parents, lovers forever dedicated, and smiling in the black abyss reality of past, present, and future, hormonial voices cracking cold under Gods pressure of return. A victrola bobbing in the silver navy blue ice playing a tune some considered a background scape of freedom from empty hazard, a release from itself death...

https://scissortail.bandcamp.com/album/diminished-composition

OjeRum-'The forest is sleeping within the trees.' (Scissor Tail Records)

Cold morphing flames twist around female fist lifting grey shuttle over forever pines, the sun whispering winter disorders, whispering soft tattoos on finger, piano with lifeless mask player cries warm tears as they fall in fantasia manner. 'Its quite here, you can come home now...' Bed sheet dreams tightly releasing vitamins, emptying lips like bright red balloons floating over during wild animal birth...

Ojerums 'The forest is sleeping within the trees', is a calm, collective meditation for anyone lost at sea, bumping into planetary neighbors, orions belt whips your eyes, sleeping within the body that changes addresses so quickly, so quietly... This is such a beautiful, and intimate release filled with old fashioned fluid supports, boilling chambers of death resistance, and momentary release from memory.

I found it beautiful that here in TN where I am from it is snowing at an incredible rate, and what better time, and place to expierence this wonderful record.

https://scissortail.bandcamp.com/album/the-forest-is-sleeping-within-the-trees

Plundershop-'Lorain Palace.' (Unread #175)

Unforgetable rainforest dripping odd body glowing/growing over building skin graphs glaring suicide quest centuries behind daily mud capsuel consumption... Expiration in eternity was perhaps someone in the bone attic with gigantic textures floating into dashboard memorials. Baroque dinner with magic pharmacy seperating lip from tooth smiling luxury duck, duck noose...

This is such an amazing fucking release from Plundershop on the legendary label
Unread. Its polluted with dynamic breath breathing notebook wisdom someplace forbidden. A galaxy of xerox mega random intensities, cutting edge fist fights, and black, and white nonrefills steaming in chemical tank. (In other words a fucking twitching eye that reflectes childhood memories that registers like throat smoke deep down in the warm soil sprouting a headless dog that once played with you, enjoying your strange energy.)

Durable souls reaching out with forever frozen transformations youll never understand... From soft feather, to a cold blade Plundershop has achieved the services of primitive truth, and its captivating art.

http://www.unread-records.com/releases/unread175.html

https://unreadrecords.bandcamp.com/album/unread-175

Rommanis Mötte-"Kozmische"

The psychedelic pilgrim detaches his shuttle from the docking bay of a large space station spinning in orbit around the faint glow of a dying sun. The engines of his vessel fire once, propelling his craft into the cold reaches of the unknown. The synthesizers of Rommanis Mötte glow and pulse like the intricate controls of the cosmic traveler's space shuttle as it glides into the cosmos. While the deep pulses and spacial flourishes certainly invoke a sense of exploration, there too exists a since of wide-eyed wonderment in the warm dances of fluttering patterns that echo and fade into the vast expanse surrounding the cosmic traveler. “Kozmische” manages to blend the sounds of your favorite 70's psych albums (if their radio signals were projected into the cosmic background of our expanding universe) with a well worn soundtrack to a planetary educational VHS tape. Synthesizers fade in and out of time as Rommanis Mötte uses the many electronic brushes at his disposal to paint the picture of our pilgrim traveling past gas giants and stars as the weight of his vessel slides through the portals which divide the scenes Rommanis Mötte crafts in the void. Each note, each trail, each pulse, each sweep balances itself perfectly within a background that could easily become cluttered. The extensive list of keyboards listed on the back of the LP serve as a means to inform the listener that Mötte’s sounds are not made haphazardly, and each note seems meticulously intentional without feeling sterile. If nothing, the conclusion of the special thanks on the back of the LP offers an influential and thematic intersection, “Special thanks to Tangerine Dream for creating the world of cosmic brilliance.” In short, “Kozmische” by Rommanis Mötte is a fine example of cosmic brilliance.

-Blake Marlow  

Restaurnaut-'Satans leg hairs.' (Unread #178)

There is sometimes realistic relief to the jet black maniac that sits on your shoulders during the tight attachments of strangers with choices, forcing radio labotomy on your favorite satellite cousin, drooling soft t.v. syrup, revealing satisfied truths about acne pushers, and soft drink specialists, but somehow effective enough to damage this elaborate moment in which Romeo had an addiction to his very own silvery bullet tears...

Automatic messages challenging stomach qualities, weird liquid bath debris floating through, and through some roaring stepdad trying. This release is full of rebellious tongues speaking anthology gun blast laughter and awkward engine diet, fuck Nick what a language man!

Nick Dolezal (Restaurant, and KERCHOW RECORDS) is totally a brother! We love everything he does, and releases. Kerchow Records is one of the reasons 'We Keep The Neighbors Up' even started. Nick, rad release man! Unread records, and Christopher Fischer you guys have something very special!

https://unreadrecords.bandcamp.com/album/unread-178

Trupa-Trupa-'Headache.' (Blue Tapes, and X-Ray Records)

Faithful to the chrome abuse of pinched plastic thorns, wet paint deities floating, and softly bumping into prospect. Grave yard robbers disturbing partial weddings, and broken body miracles... Trupa
-Trupa are definitely supervising the special places inbetween water, and land. Where duct tape stains angels lips with cold glitter, and soggy trumpets leaking forever ago somewhere in the falling sky.

Effective suppressants combinding apartment anxiety, soon causing menthol fever to break across juices, lunging at the blue jean, piercing through the blood coal, and into the heart. This release is a frozen memoir that registers a complete crisis of the body that casually leaks, and pulls apart in solitude...

This is the third release by Trupa-Trupa, a celebration of the survival of mother paranoid, her legs crossed, her fingers bent in hostile door frame, she screams under the thick moon as the cieling fan spins like fathers pocket blades... She hears her body cardio melt like candles in cabin fever. It drips under eyelash, blinks heavy like a headache, and spits on the feet. Pregnant, and still like steal standing, this band will never fall over...

https://trupatrupa.bandcamp.com/album/headache

http://www.bluetapes.co.uk/product/trupa-trupa-headache

Joseph Allred-'Mandorla Valley.' (Meliphonic Records)

No tough tongue sniper in this sacred valley to take out our angels, to high, and high they soar over perfect smiling graves. Bodies spring forward in whites dresses holding hands, fingernails reflecting amber indulgent lovers as they dance over anoranzas stone... For once you can feel family, and their strength purifies you for what lies ahead.

Before the lord we carry ourselves towards levitating suits worn by ancestors whom have waited this whole time. God smiles as his hands wrap around waists, placing you on his shoulders where we whisper our pain, and joy mantras, our word... Dancing under robust stars, horses spitting black blanket oil from their soft lips. Alien dixie lies down in the bulb, and snow closing her eyes inside cub cemetery forever...


Your children will carry your bed at night, and will wait for you in natural honey sunlit morning. Hand cold, body frozen from crystal readings, youve passed away in sleep, they cry, and mourn in the morning. Before the Lord you now are, and this you say... 'Let this be another adventure, this time with everyone before until after the rest thou shall depart.'

If you were anymore beautiful Joey you would vanish into the surface of Mare, and in distance we would gaze upon you, and your fine tuned justice to the mind, and body as you proclaim us strength to reach those heights as well.

https://meliphonicrecords.bandcamp.com/album/mandorla-valley

Father Murphy- "Lamentations." (Backwards #21)

The flickering morbid eyelash to, and from the body that so curiously lays near some hauntef picture frame hanging noose from delicious apple tree. Some teeth marks in the brighter ones from charming primitive daughter with gun powder breath she grins at Renaissance galaxy, her parents all corpse like praying inside some eternity grip someplace quiet without breathing.

Sacrafise this humble tension for cheeck to cheeck. Some organic television personality looses its only child it cries under large sky... Father Murphy are the rising, as well as setting sun, after the first kiss the chandelier noose of life, beautiful, twisting inbetween gothic bone crash course, their old eternity, and love...

"lamentations" is sensual to its silver pulsing radio heartbeat, effecting the gigantic limber palpitations growing in depth as to fall far, and from. Playing with feverish plastic atomic toys in Sahara desert sandbox... Father Murphy only breaths life into all these special places in the world, and around us... To, and through us.

"All in all, is all we are." -KC

https://fathermurphy.bandcamp.com/album/lamentations

http://www.backwards.it/releases/lamentations/26/

Buddhist Pill-"SBEC." ( Meliphonic Records)

Slow motion carcass in delay with time, and space, but somehow reaches bizzare estimate on how much one can indure. Meliphonic Records as you all very well know can indure much of anything, and everything that comes its way.

With sleeping pills exploding behind western sunglasses with the view of rotting telephone call, and tickeld legs kicking out forward, one can only imagine where this music comes from... These are the locations of the locust flower, a.m. radio dating, a medium charged with dream murder, and other assorted ciber balanced delicates all familiar, and all in-sync with driving one direction, or the other. Influenced by floral distorted adventures...

This release is filled with old bomb tales, and war cries... A single soldier isolated from cryptic four play with silver goverments he followed. He starves under influenced china moon, selective hearing until the arcade grenade explodes behind him, taking with it one of his child wings. Crippled drummer boy we broken nose walks towards enemy line holding a gold rifle bullet. All aim is on him now, and with a school yard smiles he swallows the bullet...

https://meliphonicrecords.bandcamp.com/album/sbec

Pumpkinseed-'Holy Bits' (Trash Dog Records 011)

Gorgeous flowing generation vapour inside luminous rain fall cavern hangs onto dark green edge balancing its grey spine on rusty flower illness... Childhood piano marriage on the sleeve of beautiful clothes worn by climate change. Suttle changes are made with ancient thorns stabbing, inspire the riot, devistated lungs whom breathe only to speak to concrete alias...

The better the blade, the happier the spirit. This record is a restless mantra screaming vanishing thoughts into the mind through teeth that speaks aloud, abstract roadside figurines touching themselves with forbidden crowns, shrugging headless...

I have to Ive been blessed, and humbled to have had the oppurtunity to do the artwork for this record, and for this band. My dear friends youve created something that will be with us forever, reflecting all shades of the china cat sunflower. Everyone is proud, and happy to announce 'Holy Bits' will be joining our family.

"Do you ever feel like your only a sack of bones thats just self aware enough to be grateful that it feels warm when sounds are mad?"

-Daniel Gardner

https://pumpkinseedtn.bandcamp.com/album/holy-bit

Arklight-'Decadence, and Paranoids.' (Faux-Pas Recordings #44)

This is a special devistating moment of true representations of soft money and youth. Not to say the fountain of youth is out of order, just that is occupied by glacial movement. Youll have to wait your turn in order to wonder around inside its decapitated abilities, and harsh self portrait.

Arklight are incredibly influential, spinning out of control, and into sights, and sounds consisting of pre-internet freedom, preserved information furthing head games, civilized advise so cryptic, so beautiful with its enviromental beat attitude that my generation does not fucking understand...

Eventually animals will fight amongst themselves,showing eye color that deppresses them into ultimate knowledge of body, and mind. For me Arklight are that body, pinned to them under the lights are some memoir aircraft flying terrifyingly low, subjects with introspection into brutal memories, engaging in experimental break ups, and once again sipping for the youth in order for order.

http://fauxpasrecs.blogspot.com/2014/11/fax-044-arklight-decadence-and.html?m=1

The Cthulhus-' Songs from the slipstream.' '09-11' (Juniper Tree Songs- JTS)

Here the mandala is like a badge in which you can tear it off, and throw it to the ground. It hangs onto the sleeve like some waisted gypsy death waiting on trial for cold cell eternity. Creative convolsions under thick lights where people pay to watch you play with digital delay, and hold a lighter to your neck.

Juniper Tree Songs(JTS) have released a number of awesome cassettes this being the first that Ive purchased from the sometime in the Fall/Winter of 2012. JTS are one of the earliest cassette tape labels, and cultures Ive ever dove into, and have ever known with The Cthulhus being the first listen.

The Cthulhus are filled with busted elementary lips, skyscrapper divers, public transit with the hand gun show, for free, and legendary overdoses in some fragile womb. A church built backwards, a wooden dream consisting of headless grandparents skipping kidney stones across a frozen pond...

Upon your decision to ripp off your badge you are now percieved as jobless, and until then listen to The Cthulhus!

https://junipertreesongs.bandcamp.com/album/jts003-songs-from-the-slipstream-09-11

Insect Factory-'Flickering.' (Already Dead Tapes)

Dalis hands around the queen of bone, and carbons throat, creaking cyber noose hangs from the tree of life. What orbits around the sun tonight good sir other than heartless men in suits with nose bleeds, and paranoid liscenes to think about killing? United States utero taxi rides through colored valleys black, and white, established paint smears in gas station tomorrows... Anxiety teething pressures induced in humble malfunctions, crooked ghost sleeps up stairs, walks on our old floor boards in silver code, we decode sometimes, he has a red face. It stays away from the childrens future, some of the doors were built locked like some hearts that still stay silent...

This is a very interesting release from a very interesting group. Insect Factory is the celebration of atomic tv night programs with the gas chamber family. Some war on its hands, and knees begging, and struggling just outside these doors. To occupy America while we pull tge not so oriental carpet out from under her saturday night night life, is a plan surely to succeed when, and while our backgrounds shake, and pull away at themselves...

This release from Insect Factory has a rumbling historic feeling to it. Grinding familiar antiques to a fine silver powder, releasing it into the young industrious wind... Strong visions of the Titanic come through as it slowly begins sinking, pulling people down with her. You watch from a small cardboard island just off to the side... The band floating on someones body, or a door, still playing their young gold instruments...

Thanks guys! This is an incredible release!

https://alreadydeadtapes.bandcamp.com/album/ad185-insect-factory-flickering

Manett-'Stigma Style' EP-(Kerchow Records#24)

First of all, Manett, need I say more? Second, Nick Dolezal, at Kerchow Records. Another intimate, ludacris phone explosive in conversation, cassette tape release from Manett. As if silently lying in very hushed plastic waiting for good weather to turn bad. Highly educated slipstreams as you make your way from A-side to B-side...

Not much difference between ghost, and silver bone when it comes to this release. It flows in, and out of breathing state, and toleration state. Clipping steady typhoon sky tree-tops, box building smoke, and mimics rain fall at locations involved with power, and solution.

This is a very safe haven for follwers of melting snow delicious, crying on their, our, parents cardboard laps sitting, and resting under ugly television personalities with some sunlight. Others came off as simply soldiers, but quickly protest their own cold breath against the sky nailed.

I would like to dedicate this ' We Keep The Neighbors Up' review to the typhoon victims of 1992 Guam as Manett has done herself, dedicating this very cassette tape release. I hope weve reflected well.

https://manett.bandcamp.com/album/stigma-style-ep