Category Archives: Gatekeeper

Tension in the Alpha Quadrant

The Emperor Machine return with album number trois with much rippling of synths, bulbous polymorphic cloudscapes punctured by the stabbing points atop the Martian radio masts and sonic batshit accounts of the interstellar clashes of lunar violence between moon-monkeys and the giallo Saturn marshalls, lost in space and time forever where no-one can hear them scream.

“Dave Gent” is pure vintage synths quaking on the burning cold surface of the frozen tundras of Pluto, an Assault on Moon-Unit 13 by invisible but deadly lifeforms – a tense scene of stealthy combat played out across the reflective visor of a spacesuit, shattered and dripping with blood that floats out in zero-G globules glistening amongst the stars.

The Emperor Machine – Dave Gent

For yet more organic spacefear, exchange funds for the excellent “Space Beyond The Egg” LP and check the awesome video for recent 12″ “Kananana” by director Cassiano Prado.

Faze Action travel back in time to 1978 to hijack Osé’s Orgasmachine and ride it back to the year 2525. With the chrome-plated funk of Kano, the ‘cisco strut of Sylvester and the vocal pattern of The Supremes locked inside a super-computer, “Stratus Energy” is formed which spontaneously transporting the Mayan transcedental third eye formations of Latin America and the ghostly wooden bangle-beats of deepest Africa to the surface of a far-flung planet in a disco dimension.

“Danae’s Journey” is a disco-expedition across silver sands on a backdrop vista of purple palm trees and golden pyramid clusters, the arduous journey of a princess on her faithful cyber-augmented camel to her beloved robot prince.

Faze Action – Danae’s Journey


Here is a sweet mixtape of jacking summertime murder and mayhem from demonic synth brigadiers and best mates of Michael Myers, GATEKEEPER. Best listened to with blood-filled ears.

GATEKEEPER – Summer Hits Mixtape

Blood Money

Featuring : Gatekeeper + Rude 66

We didn’t sleep this weekend. We spent it chasing a coven of witch CEOs across the streets of the City at night. You know how the master puppeteers of the world share membership in a dense cobweb or secret societies and the like? Well, some of them are about more than secret handshakes and wearing fancy purple gowns in secret rendezvouses after everyone has gone to bed at that yearly shindig in Davos. Some of them are about human sacrifices, necromancy, thaumaturgy and all sorts of cruel shit. You know that 20Jazzfunkgreats endorse a lil’  bit of carnage of that kind, it is after all necessary to keep those ties between the spirit world and ours running, and blood is the potent oil that fuels this particular engine, so that the highway through which the muses launch their blitzkrieg of inspiration upon you unsuspecting weirdoes might remain open. But these guys, these guys, I tell you, their thing was just too much.

Everyone in the esoteric network knows that the yearly accounts of many a big firm are signed with human blood. We have been too busy to deal with this kind of thing, small fries as it were. But since the meltdown in the global financial system, a few cultist leaders in the top echelons of the corporate world have decided to step up their ante, fearing that the collapse of their shares is a punishment from a forever hungry God Mammon furious at the lack of tributes piling at his bloated feet. Hence the reports about squads of black-clad goons rounding up people in the streets, and driving them to those frightful towers of power with roofs covered in pentagrams, to be tortured, and dismembered, their life forces offered by frenzied executive boards as a late sacrifice to those sneering deities, oh please sort out our balance sheets and purify our toxic assets, powerful ones.

Appalled by this massacre, and well aware of the impossibility of using such means to turn the wheels of a financial catastrophe for which very human lust and greed are more to blame than the designs of the supernatural, we decided to take a night train to Victoria lugging bulky leather suitcases packed with the usual set of remedies, Gurkha knives and custom-made revolvers loaded with silver bullets, ancient scrolls covered in spells of vanquishing. We are now back after a night which was somewhere in between the Evil Dead, Wall Street and Die Hard, weary but satisfied with a job well-done, Having stashed the sacred weapons in the cellar, I am off to the launderette with a big bag full of blood-splattered clothes. I leave you with some songs I was playing in my iPod while fulfilling the role of a wrathful God across pristine corporate halls, enjoy!


Chicago’s finest GATEKEEPER continue enthralling us with their macabre reveries, blood-curdling sound vistas of cancerous urban landscapes you can actually breakdance to if you are our kind of guy. Bring out the knives.

GATEKEEPER- Optimus Maximus


Rude 66 makes filthy electro and acid tinged cold-blooded industrial music with ghoulish gusto, it’s not a coincidence that his new album is called ‘Sadistic Tendencies’. The tune we are posting today is a glorious piece of high-energy undead disco which would have surely made all those meatwagon party leeches at the beginning of Blade spin delighted under blood-spurting sprinklers.

Rude 66- No One Had a Clue

Cheers to Simon Thisisnotanexit for the tip.

The White Void


Chicago macabre squad GATEKEEPER fulfil your 20jazzfunkgreats’ thirst for the nocturnal with another black morsel of thrills and kills. Their music embodies all that we like about 1980s cinematic suspense, paranoid hallucinations, a phantasmagoria of green lights and ectoplasmic mist seeping through multiple fracture lines on the thin walls of reality, you can of course see the long shadow of one true master John Carpenter projected over the icy electroid landscapes and obsessive synth melodies painted on damp concrete with sounds made of black leather, cursed silver and blood-splattered celluloid. A knock on your door, look through the peephole to face an empty corridor, unlock it to find a parcel wrapped in coarse brown paper laying at your feet, the chaotic diaries of a detective who disappeared while investigating a string of child abductions, scant evidence hinting at the existence of a dark conspiracy, listen to “Final Approach” and know that this is the music of the horror that awaits beyond should you decide to step into the dark alleys where the ghastly truth awaits.

GATEKEEPER- Final Approach

Great streams of fiery white light, much like dragons from Heaven bought us into contact with Oneohtrix Point Never. We were instantly transfixed like rabbits in the headlights of the apocalypse once the stuttering repetitions pulsated from the dark planets in the shadowy star system that these knights of new age synth happenings reside in.

Oneohtrix Point Never – A House in Rasinari

“A House In Rasinari” is all glittering harmonies, various beautifully synchronized sounds rising from spray from the waves of the sea on the Moon. It spirits through time and space with an ethereal air of arch knowingness – the world and all its people thinking the same thoughts, moving in the same collection of gestures, the sound bleeding into different streams of consciousness through osmosis, sliding cold across deserts and crevice-littered vistas, weaving through inverted snow-capped mountain ranges. It reaches an all encompassing existence until like a sun exploding supernova, it fades out in waves of undulating energy – all caught as a glint in the collective eye of Tangerine Dream.

Oneohtrix Point Never – Soft Program (You Knew)

OPN then capture the same feelings on ‘Soft Program (You Knew)’ that maybe Delia Gonzalez & Gavin Russom had when they gave cosmic birth to “Days Of Mars”; the slight feeling of creeping dread at the sight of wolves dashing slow motion through icicle forests, splashes of blood across the white walls of undiscovered caves, forks of phosphorous blue lightning striking glass structures in desolate wastelands, the sun setting upon fields of deceased Nephilim and foretold planetary alignments in future years of war.

Support your local musician, in the sense that we live in OPN’s neighbouring galaxy – go unto the website, these lo-fi DIY astronauts need your help in spreading the spacial gospel of inverted clockwork pyramid soliloquies.

Eerie letters from the new

Welcome to my house! Enter freely, go safely, and leave some of the happiness you bring! … I am our Lady of Shadows, and I bid you welcome to this palace of darkness and dust, Gorgo, Mormo, the moon of a thousand faces always shines yellow and malevolent upon its spires, a wraith awaits around every corner and a gypsy curse lies hidden behind each door ready to spring like a bloated spider from its secret trap, our beds are soiled with the blood of virgins, and if you stare through the windows you shan’t see the dreadful and nebulous landscapes you crossed to arrive to these steps, but inconceivable dimensions of madness and lust with which this palace communicates, a gift from forces beyond your understanding earned through the undertaking of a thousand perverse deeds, this is the stuff that nightmares are made of, but then are they not sweeter than the dirge of that grey reality with which most mortals have to contend?

I see you look unsettled, it does take some time getting accustomed to the darkness, here, I’ll leave you in the hands of the Children of the Night, they will help you feel at home, listen to them, what music they make!


Fan Death sound like a black cat with iridescent emerald eyes teasing a mouse prior to its cruel, playful but intensely focussed dismemberment, oh, and disco, that string motif that kicks off ‘Veronica’s Veil’ grabs us by the pink lapels, hurls us into the centre of the dancefloor and impales our flesh with a merciless swarm of arrows so that we can become the late 70s NYC equivalent of St. Sebastian as painted by il Sodoma, taken to a quasi-religious ecstasy by the incandescent brilliance of the music engulfing us. Black like sin and sweet like salvation.

Writing an exultant disco song about a legendary relic used to wipe Jesus’ blood and sweat during the Stations of the Cross strikes us a bit genius, as is the way in which they create an alternative night vision to that of our beloved Italian stars Glass Candy, perhaps more muscular and upbeat, tracing the path of progressive masters Cerrone or Rinder and Lewis after they got lost in the crimson halls of Helena Markos’ Palace. Just check out the rest of their stuff and understand why they might well be our new favourite band.

Fan Death – Veronica’s Veil


Gatekeeper should have hailed from Haddonfield, Illinois, all cramped muscles, tension and the paranoia of a nebulous hallucination forever dancing in the periphery of your vision, their icy synthetic progressions unfurl in front of us like black pillars of smoke rising in the desolate streets of an empty suburban landscape from which everyone disappeared one spring night, TV still on, dinner cooling on the kitchen table, swings in a garden creaking ever so slightly – we still wonder what happened.

Or a silver blade held by a velvet fist cast in iron essaying a message of pain in the vertebrae of your spine, but not quite willing to deliver it yet, it’s all dark, the way we like it.

As it is they come from Chicago, which suits us fine and makes sense inasmuch their music has something of the Warehouse, just listen to ‘Mirrors’, which comes across like some sort of nightmarish scenario where Nitzer Ebb jacked Philip Glass’ studio during the recording of the Candyman soundtrack to inflict upon us one of the most gloriously macabre pieces of synthetic horror music we have had the pleasure to enjoy for a while, we can imagine such tableaux of carnage to these sounds!

Gatekeeper – Mirrors

In a city that never sleeps where the icey rain washes away the blood from a thousand slayings of the innocent, Diamond Vampires work at nite, lit by the dark side of the Moon. They lounge in the penthouse of a monolithic citadel that towers over the blue glass and granite landscape, pale vampirian flesh as cold as the brushed steel of the synthesisers that hum and click in an obsidian refrain of maddening mid tempo terror.

Its Friday nite in the city and all hell will break loose past the midnite hour. But until then, Diamond Vampires begin the chase for blood by constructing musical crystals from the frozen liquid in the stratosphere that then rains down rhythmically onto the phosphorescent spires of the unholy churches chiming a deeply malevolent beat, punctuated with slow motion attacks from the shadows by pan-dimensional creatures.

Diamond Vampires – Friday Nights

The day draws in and the violence from the previous nite is left encased in crystalline structures, the faces of the victims twisted, wide mouthed and bug-eyed in the last moments of terror. To escape the piercing burn of the sun, Diamond Vampires have retreated to the basement where they conspire with a coven of cosmopolitan witches to bring about sheets of rolling thunder and daggers of jagged lightning that will dance across the city with static discopic energy.

Diamond Vampires – Hungry Wives

Disco with a horror edge will always prick up the ears of your 2OJFG acolytes, and we thank the gods that Diamond Vampires have only just begun constructing the sound of Chromatics synths recreating the white noise in Ian Curtis’ head and then cross-processing it with the most potent strains of space disco viruses and recording the whole thing in black and white underground tunnels.