Category Archives: Food Pyramid

Arp of the Covenant

When we listen to albums like ‘Arp Navigators’, by 20Jazzfunkgreats heroes Food Pyramid & Roy Orb D. MT., there is one archetype that comes to mind, every time.

It is the Warrior on the Edge of Time that Hawkwind photographed for the front-cover of the self-same album. Therein is condensed the vastness of feeling of integration within a cosmic network this music inspires in us.

Today, the Warrior gazes down the cliff, into the chaotic mists buffeted by the winds of time, to see his future and his past, the trajectory of a lineage afflicted by a genetic addiction to wandering, to drowning in the symphonic gradients of the sunset, to splattering the eternal tapestry with blood once in a while, so as to pump prime the selection processes with which the universe renews itself.

Imagine the vector of slicing & hanging out up high with Imperial Eagles of the Assassin’s Creed Saga, but replace the Dan Brown effluvia that sadly pollute it, with a more primeval, and truer epic where Kirby, Jodorowski & Frank Herbert, to name a triad, blend into each other like facets in the diamond which is the Central Processing Unit at the heart of the Deus Ex Machina of which the warrior and indeed ourselves, are but ephemeral routines.

One way in which the Warrior processes the overwhelming sensory feedback ascending from the tides of time is like we have done ourselves today, by encoding it into icons of the legends that preceded him, and the sonic familiars that accompanied them in their journey past Blood Meridians of Morricone melancholy, under the rain of shards of constellations shattered by the wail of a Zenta guitar, into a parking lot where a white car waits, and in the trunk of the car a rifle, and a external hard-drive with an upload of Jan Hammer’s rampant brain, and Psilocybin-coated bullets, and some names, ours.

The reverie ends with our heads blown, and at peace.

Food Pyramid & Roy Orb D. MT. – Visualizer

Which is included in their joint release ‘Arp Navigators’ in the incredible Moon Glyph label.


Coming Down

It is fitting that we hear of Jean Giraud’s (aka Mœbius) passing away under a clear & warm spring sky, akin to those he so deftly depicted in his fantastic illustrations. We feel a great sadness, as if a gate into awesome universes had shut down forever. We feel gratitude that it ever opened, and also hope, for those things that have happened once may happen again.

We tap into an imaginative core that his transmissions so strengthened, and know ourselves perched atop a colossally curved temple of Faberge-egg filigree, overlooking the three dimensional traffic lanes fluxing over the architecture of The City, strange fields beyond.

We know ourselves winged, and glide.

Food Pyramid’s Oh Mercy also descends fearless, a piebald quetzalcoatl of acid Madchester and ecstatic balearica. Its hunting ground is a forest of partially transcended wilderness, its den a crumbling pyramid whose apex panoptically gazes into manifold episodes of hedonism & epiphany, from them it sucks its mad dance energy and idealistic cosmic-gaze (and of course, that saxophone).

You are its prey, but it’s ok, this isn’t a god of war, but of fertility.

Food Pyramid – Oh Mercy

Food Pyramid’s stunning Mango Sunrise is available from Moon Glyph.

If Food Pyramid is a deity, then Avalon Emerson is a marine squad wielding its banner, to intrepidly assault the thin walls standing between the conventional coordinates of that place that we call a ‘club’ and the fantastic party-world into which it can sometimes be transformed.

A Hudson-like motor mouth takes us through the weaponry at their disposal, as we precipitate from our Lagrangian orbit:

“I am ready, man.  Ready to get it on.  Check-it-out.  I am the ultimate badass… state of the badass art.  You do not want to fuck with me. Check-it-out – Independently targeting New Beat phalanx WWAP! Fry half a dancefloor with this puppy. We got tactical smart-phased-sex drops, acid propelled grenades.  We got sonic electronic ballbreakers, we got tech-nukes, we got knives, sharp sticks…”*

Resistance is futile.

Avalon Emerson – Zsa

As included in the John McCain and the Cybernetics Edits Volume 1.


* – We obviously ripped that off from Aliens: The Director’s Cut.

Best of 2011, part II: Resurrection of the Synthesist

Given our name, it’s no secret that we gorge on electronic sound, be it discomforting or transcendent.  Guttural or sublime.

We’re forever wary of confirmation bias but this year does seem to have seen wave upon wave of synth based music.  Not just music that features a synth but music that’s built around the synth, great cathedrals constructed to encapsulate the idea of making synthetic sounds that by their design are alien and other.  Except, they’re not anymore.  Thirty years of indoctrination has made the music of the synths mean something else.  A piece of retro nostalgia at one moment, something transgressive the next.  Often extremely beautiful in that airbrushed way that was once cliche but now — as the world folds in on its credit default swapped self –seems aspirational; utopian.

So this then, is our loosely assembled collection of synth focussed tracks which, like a good Bela Tarr movie, create a world and give us time to think within its borders.


Jonas Reinhardt: Eos, the Dawn In 2011, Jonas Reinhardt returned to these warm zones: constantly maintained by solar winds and the unfathomably complex gravitational dance moves of the planets.

Speeding through the heavens of blue refracted light that bounce freely off of vast glassed worlds, before slowing to take in the cresting of a sun over its many orbiting bodies.  Eos, the Dawn holds itself in a perfect moment before the god of arpegiated synth pulses rises from her slumber to usher in a new day.  Below a strange planet populated by sentient piers springs into life, their symbiotic Wurlitzers emerging out of the wooden decks like budding flowers to pipe a salute to the new day.

Jonas Reinhardt – Eos, the Dawn

Buy: Music for the Tactile Dome


Gatto Fritto: S/T Beachy Head is a beautiful suicide spot in the Sussex coast not far away from Brighton. It is the place depicted in the front cover of Throbbing Gristle’s 20jazzfunkgreats, and soundtracked in a most foreboding manner in the selfsame record. It also seems to be a place that Gatto Fritto, one of the most accomplished sages of the neo-Kosmische diaspora has given some thought to. His Beachy Head is a wonderful quantum waltz that stares not at the maelstrom swirling below, but at a night sky above, where subtle shifts in the luminosity of the constellations reveal a soothing message of galactic rebirth.

Gatto Fritto: Beachy Head

Buy: S/T.


Eric Enocksson: Apan Ramble through the hazy palace of your past, and into a cellar of gentle ruins where you collect memories of those pets that grew up with you, and grew old and frail and one day, died.  Bask in the portentous sadness of a wordless farewell, sweetened by the remembrance of the joy that was, and your ability to love, which is also the root of all your tears.  Now picture a dynasty of galactic shepherds whose flock is of planets and constellations, and of the races that thrived and decayed and perished therein, their affection and ache as great as yours, but stretched over aeons of blackness, interrupted by a blinding light, once in a while, once in a while.

Across which echoes a song like this.

Erik Enocksson – IV

Buy: Apan.


Borden/Ferraro/Godin/Halo/Lopatin: FRKWYS Vol. 7 One of the many strands that compose our love of music made with synthesisers is its ability to describe nature in a medium that is completely abstracted from.  As the sounds become more sythesised the creator’s intent is more nakedly revealed and in this instance, the feeling of drifting into night — which let’s face it is pretty fucking abstract — is conjured from the minds of the song’s participants.  Droning waves of synths layer each other like laser coloured veils until more excited flourishes tweet their arrival like thousands of birds of pure light arising for the gloom.

Borden, Ferraro, Godin, Halo & Lopatin – Twilight Pacific

Buy: FRKWYS Vol. 7


Harald Grosskopf: Synthesist (Reissue) Picture the collection of delicate vibrations through which sound is transported across air as a nascent civilisation of golden-skinned homunculi toiling in barren lands, developing in a super-compressed evolutionary process a theory of the mind and language. If the stars are our destination, then we must be theirs, for they populate our sensory system with awe-inspiring structures that will thrive long after a supernova of silence has obliterated the system whence they arrived. Harald Grosskopf is the Deus-ex-Machina behind this beautiful infiltration, the all-knowing watchmaker that set this process in movement. He is their God, I wouldn’t be surprised if he became ours too.

Harald Grosskopf- Synthesist

Buy: Synthesist


Food Pyramid: Food Pyramid III Food Pyramid don’t (need to) mention anything eluding to German 60s/early 70s music in their email to us, but as with the Boredoms, Juan Atkins, Holy Fuck, Death in Vegas, Fuck Buttons, The Time and Space Machine, Deerhunter, Gavin Russom, Oneida, Lindstrom or P.I.L. – reading between the lines gives us great delight.

Food Pyramid – E-Harmony

Buy: Food Pyramid III.


S.C.U.M.: Again into Eyes When teenagers making epic industrial goth by way of southend on sea make a first album on Mute records team up with the combined production talents of Ken and Jolyon Thomas you might expect something interesting. Again into Eyes goes beyond anything you’d expect as a first album, beyond the combined age and wisdom of all involved. If this is their first offering, then personally we cannot wait for more.

S.C.U.M – Whitechapel

Buy : Again into Eyes


Rene Hell: The Terminal Symphony Rene Hell gives us large hadron collider tickets to an abstract universe where Andrei Tarkovski directed Tron, and Terry Riley teamed up with Aphex Twin to make the soundtrack. BLAM.

Rene Hell – Lighthouse Marvel

Buy: The Terminal Symphony.


Moon Gangs: S/T Moon Gangs  plug a whole array of synthetic apparatus into the output devices of our planetary sensory system, thus generating a tape, the latest episode in an invisible collection of factual documentaries through which generation after generation of stargazing weirdoes (Tangerine Dream, Klaus Schulze, Terry Riley, Ligeti, Lindström, OPN, etc.) have attempted to reveal a truth that can’t be spoken.

Moon Gangs – Sea

Buy: S/T (sold out soz)


IFEEL Studio: Morgengruss III IFEEL Studio stretches fingers of gold into the core of the galaxy, and the deepest recesses of the human heart to grasp the mysteries of love, and scatter them into the wind. From these seeds grows a mighty tree under whose shadow we rest in a furious summer afternoon, eating cheese and bread like humble and satisfied shepherds, humming a melody of beauty and peace.

IFEEL Studio – Watching Stars Over The Rubicon Beltway

Buy: Morgengruss III


Zombi: Escape Velocity Escape Velocity is a new instantiation of our manifesto: numinous motorik disco for emergent new era cults, party music for the post-singularity hivemind, the blueprint of an interstellar motorway where a suicidal priesthood accelerates its sexy silver machines towards the ultimate event horizon.

Zombi – DE3

Buy: Escape Velocity.


Mist: House Mist’s House is a collection of prophesies about the day-to-day of our poly-mathematic future, and a tribute to the pioneering work of the Kosmische school that first calibrated its main parameters, and anticipated its sentiment.

In it, the fundamental relations in the science of harmony are expressed mechanically by marshalled regiments of numbers marching with irresistible power

Mist – Twin Lanes

Buy: House


Deep Earth: House of Mighty Deep Earth lash out with the pent-up energy of a zillion Zenta laser panthers as they lunge forward, not to snap your neck with mighty fangs of antediluvian vintage, but to carry you dangling from their mouth into exotic lands of strife and illumination like a psychedelic version of He-Man’s Battle Cat, dreamed up in some German progressive commune circa 1976.

Deep Earth – House of Mighty II

Buy: House of Mighty


Thug Entrancer: Case  Mounting a late surge into this list Thug Entrancer’s email popped into our swamp-like inbox linking us to Volume 1 and 2 of Tropics Mind.  Pulling in Carpenter synth workouts, Juke influences and more ambient meanderings they’re nothing if not superbly ambitions explorations of synth driven dance music.

Whereas initially they volumes seem arbitrary, volume 1 soon reveals itself as a finely honed, low key Juke inspired, bubbling gem.  With only Spiritual Growth losing the frantic rhythm of its peers, opting instead for a spot on the Carpenter/Goblin axis of tension/terror.  Volume 2 seems more focused on the aforementioned Carpenter/Goblin/(slowed)-Italo synth driven genre…we still haven’t got a suitable name for.  [We suck at genres]  From which Case comes.

Thug Entrancer – Case

Buy: Tropics Mind


Throbbing Gristle: all of it (re-mastered reissues) All of them.  On vinyl.  Get them now.  Even if they’re not really ‘synth’ albums — in the same way that David Lynch isn’t really a pop star.


Seven and III

Ideas for sacred cows and discourse:

  • The term krautrock is itself a derogatory and racist category invented by English music journalists.
  • Tangerine dream is the music your dad/weird uncle/granddad made in their bedroom and kept trying to make you listen to.
  • Faust were signed by Richard Branson, and their song Krautock is an in-joke on those who don’t know what krautock actually is.
  • Conny Plank produced A Flock of Seagulls, Clannad and Ultravox’s Vienna.
  • Neu! – to the untrained ear – could easily pass for a new age relaxation/birthing tape.
  • Ash Ra Tempel and many of those on the acid fuelled excess of kosmiche records could easily be mistaken for sub-jefferson airplane jams remixed by ozrick tenticles.
  • Kraftwerk haven’t made a decent album since 1981.
  • Most of krautrocks new fame can be attributed to a book written by an aging 80s indie rock star with blatantly crusty tendencies who dressed in a turtle shell and probably believes crystals have magic powers.
  • Saying that you listen to Krautrock isn’t actually a catch all way of being cool.

* Full disclosure – I am actually writing this wearing a Neu! t-shirt, and have a Can tattoo.

In these days of the musical mass-collective knowledge that is the internet it is not difficult to download and become an expert on the entire subject or kosmiche and motorik in a few days. This makes us happy that others can share our love, but sad that something you had to work hard at, exploring the under the deepest rocks, is now easily available to those who see it as a meteor ride to ‘being cool’.

It really does take quite a lot to impress xxjfg these days, and most new supposed ‘krautrock’ inspired bands/tracks leave us with a bad taste in our mouths.

Food Pyramid don’t (need to) mention anything eluding to German 60s/early 70s music in their email to us, but as with the Bordoms, Juan Atkins, Holly Fuck, Death in Vegas, Fuck Buttons, The Time and Space Machine, Deerhunter, Gavin Russom, Oneida, Lindstrom or P.I.L. – reading between the lines gives us great delight, as does this track from their final long player in the trilogy Food Pyramid III.

Food Pyramid – E-Harmony

Food Pyramid III is available now from Moon Glymph Records.

But as you know dear reader, this is merely a single string in xxjfg multiverse where just a small quantum leap away is Pye Corner Audio.

Lets start with the slow down:

It’s as good a place as any in our well travelled none-linear narrative.

Certain parts of the universe began to loose their hi-energy. The Constalations of Fidelity, Dc recordings, DFA, beats in space joined a growing number of less than 130 bpm systems and we rejoiced.

But this is Europe, and so we feel the force of the early rise of the machines – from Europe to Sheffield via COUM, from Düsseldorf  to Musique Concrete via Martin Denny. So as pulses throb, the drone deepened and the randomness of machines let loose becomes a universal molasses we shed tears of delight and fear for the new future born unto us.

Darkness grew further as the anti-mater of new rave. Born to soundtrack the nightmares we all enjoy – sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, the offspring and siblings of V/Vm and The Knife pitched down for the decade. The video nasty of Salem and our sadly departed brethren at Triangle Records brought us much joy.

Lets add a convergence from room 13.  Mathematicians and jazz musicians using tape loops produced radiophonic poetry –  the Technicolor filter  to our black and white sci-fi visions of the future. We clicked and hissed with lo-fi electronic delight.

If, dear reader, your currently feeling slightly lost, then the audio segment included will hopefully make things clearer.

This is not the whole of our none-linear story, or even a possibly accurate interpretation of the musical narrative, but merely one interpretation of the history of the conversation Pye Corner Audio are adding to with their new album Black Mill Tapes Vol.2.

Pye Corner Audio – Electronic Rhythm Number Seven

Abandon grey all who enter here

Featuring : Food Pyramid

The chasers of the secret lore are a shady tribe who collect analogue relics from a bygone era, align their intricate switches in certain configurations like a gilded key into invisible lock to open the gates of humanity’s dream-state to all sorts of wonderful reveries and visitations. Food Pyramid are part of the crew, the ones who like to party in ways which may seem odd to you, wait until their music washes over your underdeveloped pineal gland to compress a few aeons of psychic evolution into 45 minutes of your Terran time.

By the time the processing is over you will embrace the obvious revelation: this is the definition of banging.

Food Pyramid- Mind Melter

Mind Melter is a squadron of sentient drills of avian design pumping feverishly in a brutally contrasted desert, not out but in, not oil but colour. If ye good ole motorique Deerhunter (think Octet) had ever done a collab with Acid Mothers Temple & The Melting Paraiso U.F.O., it would have sounded like this. You can find it in their second release for Moon Glyph.