Being the all encompassing unstandardised weirdoes that we are, we make no attempt at ranking our choices, or to classify them by format. We just about manage to drop them into different buckets which aren’t quite genres, but a chromatic scale of the kirlian aura colours that they impressed upon us.

Let’s begin with black. Things that go slash in the night.

Chris Carter – The Space Between: Optimo music present to us a resurrected artefact from the dawn of our current philosophies.  Instrumental sides to the freestyle battles of Gods.

Chris Carter – Clouds (posted 2008)

Cold Waves and Minimal Electronics Vol. 1.: An urban survival guide for the modern existential hero. Can be read as a cyberpunk anthology, or as a collection of fashion tips for the cavalcade of the damned.

Eleven Pond- Watching Trees (posted in 2009)

Florene – Homemade Extacy. Those blips you see breaking the speed limit in your radar, lt. Strumpf, as you swig on your hip flask behind a battered roadside advert in the scorching Texan night, they aren’t your average joy riders. No, they are the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, and they are looking for a rave.

Florene- Homemade Extacy (new post)

Gatekeeper: Giza.Herr Mannheim, I think that upgrading the operating system of our robotic assembly line with a code sequence downloaded from an anonymous source located somewhere in the sidereal voids wasn’t such a hot idea.

Gatekeeper- Serpent (posted Dec 6th)

Indian Jewelry: Totaled. Dorothy is bored in her house in the middle of the desert. A whirlwind takes her to a world of impossible colour . She jacks a pickup truck and storms down the yellow paths with her gang of metal men and talking beasts, under a black cloud of flying monkeys. Oz is toppled and anarchy ensues.

Indian Jewelry- Excessive Moonlight (posted May 18th)

Liars: Sisterworld. This is the sort of pop music that fills the airwaves in those desolate places where prepubescent worshippers of a pagan cult slaughtered all the adults.

Married in Berdichev: Readying. Walking down the private collection of the Hunterian museum at night, where beauty stands still, preserved in aspic.

Married in Berdichev- I Need the Sun (posted July 27th)

Model Man – Shouldn’t I be Dead by Now? Dry ice and airbrushed laser beams thunder over a brutal coastline as Tron’s less binary characters engage in fatalistic plans for their escape.

Model Man – Shouldn’t (posted October 18th)

Mueran Humanos: S/T. The dead are not quiet in Mueran Humanos’ album. Within, walls continue upright, bricks meet, floors are firm, and doors are sensibly shut. Silence lies steadily against the wood and stone. And we who walk here… walk alone.

Mueran Humanos: Festival de las Luces (New post)

Psychic Ills- FRKWYS 4: Doomsday ragas kinaesthetically synchronised with the infra-red output of the Predator’s mask, while manhunting in the Arabian desert.

Psychic Ills- Mantis (Juan Atkins Remix) (Posted August 26th)

Puerto Rico Flowers: 4. Me and Bauhaus getting it on in the abandoned abattoir (a love story).

Puerto Rico Flowers: Let’s Make Friends (new post)

Salem – King Night: Filling 20JFG’s lungs with bewitching dreams since 2008, Salem deliver the album that brushes past any middling concerns of genre partisans.  Exquisite beauty lurking beneath waves of delay and syrup.

Salem – Frost (New Post)

Scorpion Violente: Uberschleiss. The Gabber Meinhof aren’t a wild bunch of decadent noisemongers hellbent on collapsing society by industrial means. No, they are the research & development department of the survivalist massive, prototyping sonic armaments to be deployed against the undead hordes crawling from an oversubscribed hell.

Scorpion Violente: Viol et Revanche (posted October 18th)

Teeth of the Sea: Your Mercury. Sexual transcendence you achieve while your flesh dissolves under the leathery wings of the bat people of The Beastmaster.

Teeth of the Sea: A.C.R.O.N.Y.M. (posted October the 7th)

Xander Harris – Urban Gothic Synth drenched ode to Brian Keene.  A mix tape of all our favourite horror scores ripped to shreds and assembled into terrifyingly catchy shapes.

Xander Harris – Opening Credits (posted August 20th)

Tracklisting:::
1-PEARL – Pearl’s Dream
2-NEOPHYTE – I will have that power
3-DJ NATE – I’m a Burn
4-DJ NATE – Ghostmix
5-YOUNG CREAM – Angie Juke
6-AiDS 3D – Back Once Again (Forever)
7-THA POPE – Track 41
8-UNKNOWN – Track 20 Chicago Juke
9-NEOPHYTE – Catastrophe
10-THREAT MISSES – Juke that Girl

Salem XXJFG Mix

If Ariel Pink was to one day awake from the 1980s dizz-ney landscapes that inhabit his semi comatose mind where the sunbaked California streets lined with friendly faced anthropomorphized apple pie trees are alive with bleached, drooling beach bunnies in black ray-bans and pink scrunchies hitching rides with perma-tanned creeps in white suits driving busted up night rider cars that blast out tinny, warped Fleetwood Mac songs and compete with the sounds of the crazed day-glo freaks dressed up like various McDonalds characters (Grimace the Purple Blob on drumpads) playing Adam Ant covers with pastel keytars that emanate from the boulevard corners, chances are he might sound a little like Golden Birthday who in “Exposure” have crafted a wonky dew eyed, fuzz-synth bliss ballad that would be perfect for playing the penultimate scene in a future-fantasy John Hughes movie where inside an empty auditorium a beautiful robotized Molly Ringwald dances all alone beneath the light show of a rotating mirrorball reflecting off her chromium body in a sea of silver balloons, before running out into the night air to find her beloved for a midnight kiss in the pixelated pink fog.

Golden Birthday – Exposure

Recently there’s been a stupid wealth of goodness drifting out of Canada; the slo-mo disco of Tuxedomask, the black lipped Kate Bush, marble floor murder chic of Parallels, and the shamanic gabba rhythms and jagged trance waves rode on by Basketball. Babe Rainbow is another magnificent sea-shell washed up on our shores, except when we put our ears to this shell we don’t hear the serenity of the sea, but the cavernous, bombastic sound of inverted dubstep cave recordings documented beneath an oppressive futuristic mega city that constantly rumbles above with the noise of titanic machines in the midst of a apocalyptic takedown.

Babe Rainbow – Popcommon

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Our heart kin, Salem, have been good enough to stitch together for us a disarming patchwork of haunted juke hall malevolence, cave crunk atmospherics, brain breaking tekno noise, and crackling transmissions from a childhood spent floating down beautiful starlit rivers in the constant glare of hidden monsters. Thank you smoke.

Tracklisting:::
1-PEARL – Pearl’s Dream
2-NEOPHYTE – I will have that power
3-DJ NATE – I’m a Burn
4-DJ NATE – Ghostmix
5-YOUNG CREAM – Angie Juke
6-AiDS 3D – Back Once Again (Forever)
7-THA POPE – Track 41
8-UNKNOWN – Track 20 Chicago Juke
9-NEOPHYTE – Catastrophe
10-THREAT MISSES – Juke that Girl

Salem XXJFG Mix

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Lastly Dummy Magazine recently asked XXJFG’s gum chewing, back of the bus sista blog So Bones to make them a mix which is now available for all those who may wish to hear Britney Spears vomit and chant over a black-funk forest floor of twitching stripper limbs alongside various other goldplated fidget funk robo-workouts. CLICK HERE and N-joy.

With the reissue of the most excellent “Betrayed in the Octagon” LP on No Fun, Oneohtrix Point Never are finally getting more recognition. The LP is a wondrous clash of sinuous organic totems and sheer metal floating mosaic patterns, a battle watched by the 2001 homo-sapiens as a bone turns into a spacecraft. Its an image glimpsed in a mirror at the end of a generation and with tracks like “Woe is the Transgression I” OPN easily weaves horrific terror into tone-perfect tranquillity. The title track follows a team of explorers entering the ear of a giant crash-landed Mega Man covered in rust and battle scars. “Laser to Laser” pins a star beam to the point directly in the middle of these two styles. Previous readers have left comments expressing a desire to climb into OPN’s tracks, and “Laser to Laser” is a perfect gateway to the warm comfort of a cybernetic womb, cradled in a sea of robotic nerve endings, watching as the plumes of cloudy synths spread across a sulphuric sky and My Bloody Valentine records drape over tree branches like Salvador Dali clock faces.

Oneohtrix Point Never – Laser to Laser

Oneohtrix Point Never mixtape transmogrifying to 2OJFG soon…

This month, SALEM follows up the soundtrack to ecliptic smoke beings on Merok Records with their happiest song (its still about Ketamine though) on Japan-based label Big Love. “OhK” is backed by “Sweat (l)” a gurgling fear anthem for Team Sertraline. Guaranteed to be one of those mad scrambles to the Rough Trade/Puregroove digital record shops; 300 copies fast diminishing to zero.

SALEM – OhK

“OhK” is one of the achingly tarnished silver and reversed wicker-cross torch songs that Heather sings over, a surprisingly upbeat shuffling 4/4 thud, lit by the frozen morning sun as lost souls stumble from the underground into life again, only to be punctured by tendrils of serrated keyboards, deafened by shrill death rattles from a Roland MC-505 graveyard.

∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆ ∆

For yet more of SALEM’s fever dreams head to SO BONES, the newly established blog from Robin and Steve, featuring odes to the translucent androidical beauty of Cassie and Ciara, the chrome and crystal knuckleduster chic of Usher’s most mental (and therefore unreleased) ice ballads, Lil Wayne’s feral malfunctioning robot vocals oozing over filth-rhymes, The Underdogs Italo-baiting neon-monolithic productions, and so much more….

(no Akon or Flo-Rida and no ill-advised collaborations with Enrique Iglesias, promise)

Black Meteoric Star’s impending arrival on Earth is marked by harbingers of planetary pressure walls – black linear schisms mapping forbidden languages across the dusk skies, earthquakes cracking the surface of Mars as it draws closer to its terrible alignment with Earth, an ice cold pinprick of darkened dread on the back of the neck during a torrid sleepless night, and a new remix from the grand wizard himself Gavin Russom is etched into black vinyl.

Petar Dundov – Oasis (Gavin Russom Remix)

Petar Dundov can make the kind of rumbling and glistening techno that nestles snugly somewhere in between Matthew Jonson and Analog Fingerprints. But on last years “Escapements” LP, synthpop, balearic italo and stuttering beatless sound is thrown into the mix. Then when the high priest of synths, Gavin Russom, gets hold of it and shatters it across a foreboding alien synthesised landscape, all is transformed into a liquid analogue 15-minute fear anthem, clicking into mechanical life and making way for an apocalyptic refrain of fried guitar.

So then to another of our favourites, the sublime echoing crunch-terror of SALEM. Head to Merok for the newly released 7″ featuring sinister as fuck break-light in smoke artwork and “water”, “Redlights” and “Whenusleep” all inscribed on red vinyl. Plus, there is also new track, “Skullcrush”.

SALEM – Skullcrush

Heres the sound of anger and torment. A fresh scar is cut deep with every fluctuation thats interrupted by a buzzsaw hi-hat or processed out-of-time beat. There are three sides to SALEM. First there is the ethereally cracked beauty of Heather’s vocals on tracks like “OhK” and “Deepburn”. Secondly, there is the warped grime funeral procession of “imasheet” and “Trapdoor”, then there is the spectral horrordisco of the male-led vocal of tracks like “Dirt” or “haffa”.

“Skullcrush” fits into the third with strangled effects, bullet hole beats fractured into another entirely different rhythm and vocals from a flash-burnt throat. Underneath a grey abandoned town, a series of tunnels echo with the woeful mourn of a synthesiser played by a ghost, distorted by the water dripping upon it from the ceiling above, crackling in its ruined state and synchronising the scathing aural affects of “Skullcrush” to the steady waves of anguish pulsating from the hidden recesses where not even a ghost would dare tread.

ADVANCED WARNING
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March 3rd, 7.30pm, the Barbican, London

Two titans of the world of post punk will be hitting London in March – the rhythm queens of New York who put the funk into funk, ESG, and the jittering ska-disco of A Certain Ratio who were as much the sound of Frankie Knuckles as they were James Chance.

THE GIG IS NOW CANCELLED!!!!!

With synthesized cacophony, thundering forwards, rolling over hills under a shadow of witch-hour darkness arriving in an impenetrable fog that usually brings with it a wave of unexplainable death and destruction, White Ring emerge from the ether with true dark hearted disco intent, like a sister of Salem who’s rocked back and forth for endless hours in a lightless room to the screech of Mika Miko in a cough syrup stupor, while from the outside her brother subjected and pounded the walls around her with ghostly crunk beats blasted out of a broken boom box that transforms any of it‘s emanations into something monstrous and disturbed. They dance on the bones of former Cash Money heroes, their corpses still adorned with precious bling, now covered in rotten excrement and dirt, worms weaving in between knuckleduster holes while ants march across diamond grillz stripped of all their flash, unaware of the evil their about to unleash around them.

White Ring- Suffocation

…and SALEM continue to astound us. With every new track that emerges from the clinically static white of the myspace page, we get closer to the centre of the forest that is the desolate grey heart of this band. There is so much emotion saturating each sound, even the brittle processed drum beats beat like the fevered heart of a murder victim in the last spasms of hope for rescue.

SALEM – haffa

20JFG does NYC again this Friday. Do.not.miss.

Its too exciting a prospect that Salem will be recording new material, fact.

When this is we do not know, but soon it will come, like impending nightfall when your stuck in the old cemetery in deepest, darkest Dunwich – its all about the fear of the unknown/that advancing noise in the cold black air? If you’ve even heard one song by Salem, you’ll know what we mean: Dubstep’s violent shadow, following malevolently through ruined city streets, slight rainfall, flickering street lamps, cobalt clouds glowing in the pitch dark skies; or maybe Suicide sex-changed and handed a load of grime records spliced with the more twisted elements of ‘Silent Shout’ by The Knife; or JME as a goth serial killer, listening to John Carpenter disco 12″ edits backwards at 33rpm.

Salem – Minemine

‘Minemine’ isn’t really that new, but it does show progression from the handful of onyx gems that have peppered both the myspace/myspace pages. Ethereal vocals echo through airless chambers underground as bass reverb from discos at ground level carry the synths through dark waters and onward to decaying stone formations. Here be the source of the vocal lamentations, a wounded girl flung to the stale grey ether, lost in the cycling tales of her past prime and subsequent dethroning at the hands of a false young man.

The extra elusive Salem 7″ ‘Yes I Smoke Crack’ should have crept to UK stores by now – start the hunt at Rough Trade or Pure Groove.

UPDATE: check out new video for ‘Dirt’ – gas-based suicide & boobs + wtf awesomeness = ART

What better way to accompany Salem’s depleting digital cloudscapes in timeless vacuums than with amphetamine-riddled fear and loathing in Cologne, Germany from Nico?

Soon after the release of ‘Nico: The Frozen Borderline 1968-1970′ last year, Robin wrote a frozen postcard warning of the horrors that came with falling too far into second solo LP, ‘The Marble Index’.

But if that LP was the sound of Nico hurtling through an abyss of despair and wretched cerebral violence, then 1974′s ‘The End’ was a collection of poems based on what she found at the bottom of the chasm – a crystalline network of inverted hanging gardens, mirroring all the evils that the brain can muster, and presenting them to her as darkly beautiful portraits of past events and buried emotions. Nico is now locked in her own plain, never to return.

‘It Has Not Taken Long’ rides in on the waves of an acidic ocean like a child’s nursery rhyme written by Lilith and ‘You Forgot To Answer’ careers through arid wastelands of heroin addiction with backing vocals by past victims of the drug. Armies of the dead are conjured on ‘We’ve Got The Gold’ to trudge through the countryside spreading arcs of skeletal fear. Nico even turns in a credible cover version of The Doors on the title track, casting the central American deserts favoured by Jim Morrison, in a frozen decay filled with murder and suicide lit by the red moonlight. But its only on ‘Innocent & Vain’ when she manages to punch through to an entirely alien realm, reality cascading to the ground as the sound of armageddon via solar flares melts away the air to create a doorway to unknown places – Nico reading from her diaries, the words working this magic:

Nico – Innocent & Vain

Visit here for further information.

Artwork above by Dean Kuhta

It is with utmost excitement that 20JFG have received the news about Guillermo del Toro’s work on the adaptation of H.P. Lovecraft’s At the Mountains of Madness, one of the pseudopodia poetry master’s most chilling and cthonically beautiful tales. Although Dan tells us that we shouldn’t hold our breath for this film, which del Toro has been trying to make for a long time, unsuccessfully because of annoying financial constraints, we can but hope praying in front of a symbol of the Old Ones carved in a stone of a colour that shouldn’t exist and composition that scientists have been so far at a loss to identify. Perhaps he has managed to fool those stupid coke-addled film execs into giving him moolah to shoot ‘The Hobbit’ and he’s using it to film ‘At the Mountains…’ instead, or don’t both stories involve a quest under the mountains where slimey creatures dwell? I’d most definitely pay dearly to see that fat bourgeois Bilbo Baggins facing the Shoggoths instead of twitchy skaghead Gollum, I’m gonna give you riddles Baggins, I’m gonna give you riddles

No matter what happens with the film, we wholeheartedly recommend you read the book, where a geological survey of Anctartida’s cold wastes leads to an exploration of Cyclopean ruins hidden by colossal mountains where no human foot has tread, and a final confrontation with the indescribable alien presences which survive in their bosom, our main man John Carpenter was reading too, and The Thing, one of the best films ever made, was in no small way (another) homage to Lovecraft’s genius.

The cold and beautiful synths of Galaxy Toobin’ Gang’s ‘Entering Snake Pass’ (out on Creme Organization soon) are transmitted through the same feeric wave-spaces as those of Laurie Spiegel, Terry Riley or Tangerine Dream and convey perfectly the sensation of simultaneous wonder and alienation that the members of the Peabody expedition must have felt when flying between the abnormally regular shapes of a monstrous mountain range hidden deep into the heart of a eternal screaming whiteness, or as HPL put it,

Our sensations of tense expectancy as we prepared to round the crest and peer out over an untrodden world can hardly be described on paper; even though we had no cause to think the regions beyond the range essentially different from those already seen and traversed. The touch of evil mystery in these barrier mountains, and in the beckoning sea of opalescent sky glimpsed betwixt their summits, was a highly subtle and attenuated matter not to be explained in literal words. Rather was it an affair of vague psychological symbolism and aesthetic association – a thing mixed up with exotic poetry and paintings, and with archaic myths lurking in shunned and forbidden volumes. Even the wind’s burden held a peculiar strain of conscious malignity; and for a second it seemed that the composite sound included a bizarre musical whistling or piping over a wide range as the blast swept in and out of the omnipresent and resonant cave mouths. There was a cloudy note of reminiscent repulsion in this sound, as complex and unplaceable as any of the other dark impressions.

Galaxy Toobin’ Gang- Entering Snake Pass

Galaxy Toobin’ Gang is William T. Burnett and Elliot R. Lipp. The former, who also goes by the aliases of Speculator and Grackle is having one of this tunes, ‘Jungle’, released as the first reference of Capablanca discos, our homey Hugo Capablanca himself has made a remix of it with T.Keeler and we can tell you in advance, it’s utterly dreamy beautiful balearic bliss. Ah, we are so excited.

I purchased M. John Harrison’s ‘Things that Never Happened’ following the advise of that wise Lord Nuneaton, and having finished its first short story, ‘Settling the World’ I can say I’m in love already, and I don’t know if this is good or not given the skill that Mr. Harrison has at creating disturbing atmospheres. No, scratch that, I love disturbing atmospheres and I love this shit, you should, too. Anyhow, ‘Settling the World’ contains a strange account of the Alien colonisation of Planet Earth which begins by stating the following,

With the discovery of God on the far side of the Moon, and the subsequent gigantic and hazardous towing operation that brought Him back to start His reign anew, there began on Earth, as one might assume, a period of far-reaching change

(Which would have made Philip K. Dick proud)

To then take you in a trip down God’s Motorway, which happens to begin in Southend-by-sea, no less. Enormous wagons carry through this enormous dimension-spanning road a hidden load the nature of which Oxlade, an agent of the security services, attempts to elicit,

‘What sort of motor drove them, I had no idea- they seemed to toil, none moved at more than five or six miles an hour- and yet a sense of enormous power hung like a heat-haze over each carriageway, and the ground trembled beneath my feet’

With a throb surely as Earth-shattering as the one coiling alive in the invisible zenta vibrations of 20JFg faves Boris. In their new album ‘Smile’ (Japan-only release for now) we see them reasserted as the heavyweight champions of heaviness, carrying out scorched land operations through regions of genre brutal like a Minotaur roaming the halls of thee misty psychedelic labyrinth, no matter what volume you play them at they always sound so fucking loud.

We do for one welcome the arrival of our Japanese tinnitus-inducing noise overlords, take that, laws of acoustics.

Here you have the album opener, ‘Message’, a paranoid piece of EBM psychosexual blues which would have been a perfect soundtrack for Oxlade’s final confrontation with the gigantic Beetle God in Settling the World. It is a breath of fire which burns the skin strangely funky (must be that conga) like TV on the Radio if they came from Cimmeria instead of Brooklyn, find them locked in a vicious chainsaw duel with frothing Alan Vega, sort of re-enacting the beginning scene of Highlander. Blixa watches leaning against a damp concrete wall with a cigarette which is all ash dangling from his thin lips. Good shit, more power for 2008′s pantheon of power, power.

Boris- Message

I have recently decided to revisit Philip Jose Farmer’s wonderful Riverworld series, a saga which describes the adventures of a humanity resurrected on the shores of a river which coils like a snake in the heart of a valley surrounded by an unaccessible mountain range, a few of these humans have seen the space of resurrection where the naked bodies of billions floated in stasis before awakening as over watched by a group of mysterious cloaked individuals, and endeavour to discover why did this take place, the question is, is the Riverworld a new chance or stage, a purgatory were, if we behave we will be able to attain enlightenment, or a cruel scientific experiment carried out by immortals full of ennui? This might make you think of Lost, but it’s way better, you should most definitely read it.

SALEM have been making a few waves since we posted them here a couple of weeks ago. We were rather sure this would happen because what they make is quite special, think of the ghostly melodies of My Bloody Valentine swirling like magic mist around the slender silhouette of a Chromatics’ charcoal eyed ghost roaming empty avenues which resonate with echoes of Burial’s mystery, and you aren’t even starting to get there, because the only way shall is by listening to their beautiful music, damaged torch songs which create an aural space where those fairy folk who didn’t die away when the soil of the woods was covered with concrete and wires dwell, they became something else in a changeling from green and brown into black, white and grey, strange grainy shadows like the vampires of David Lynch’s Nadja.

I think that if those who resurrected humanity into the Riverworld had kind feelings, they would perhaps have sung something along the lines of ‘Whenusleep’ while beholding the masses of flesh and closed eyes rotating in the abyss, right before sending them to their bodies scattered along the shores of the eternal river.

SALEM- Whenusleep

WE HAPPEN THIS SATURDAY YEAH

Come and talk about this shit while we play the evilest music in the new spanking Penthouse soundsystem 8-1AM Free entry, pay in blood.

A ghost has been haunting DJ Rick’s radio show, bewitching us with otherwordly melodies we might have dreamed of if we had dreamt of an abandoned farm in the midst of the ochre prairie in whose entrance the old porch swing creaks, ever so subtly in the absolute absence of wind or weight, silver under the light of the moon, covered with scribblings of love and magic carved by a small but strong hand and an old blade which in its time drew blood, we chased the ghost and the ghost opened up its cloak of crimson and silver, and gave us some music we are conveying to you today.

U.S. Girls- Days

In her cover version of The Kinks melancholy anthem ‘Days’ U.S. Girls sticks to Albert Einstein’s wise maxim ‘Make it as simple as possible, but not simpler’, the dirgey clatter of the drums brings to mind images of old steam machines advancing through vast fields where things grow slow and women sing folk songs which are eternal because they are sung from the heart and nothing else, U.S. Girls’ voice does this, free from decoration, frills or pretence, mapping the country of the soul with a burning honesty strange in this reality, something we also find in the ballads of Acid Mothers Temple sorceress Cotton Casino.

U.S. Girls will be releasing a record later on this year, now that is something we do look forward to feel.

It is of veritabyll report, and attested of so many that there be nowe of wyse and learned none to gainsaye it, that ye serpente hys eye hath a magnetick propertie that whosoe falleth into its svasion is drawn forwards in despite of its wille, and perisheth miserabyll by ye creature his byte.

Now for some black magick.

We have been drawn inside Salem’s pentagram of seduction like victims of the spell of iridiscent reptilian eyes, and there go our souls spinning in a irresistible vortex, trapped, burning in awe, don’t worry, you’ll joins us soon, just listen on.

Salem have mastered the arts of the dark, their music rises like refulgent will o’ the wisps at the end of a cul de sac in the heart of the city, they marshal the mystery essence of the night with a dexterity one finds in very few chosen spirits, of course Chromatics, be bewitched by their astounding take on Bruce Springsteen’s Streets of Philadelphia, it sounds like abandoned black and white photos of empty haunted streets sprawled over the pavement of empty haunted streets, its incandescent iciness makes us feel in a very special and strange way baby, baby, might it be we’re on fire.

Salem- BruStreet

Inside their envelope of distortion distance and closeness fold upon each other in a gentle collapse of all structures such as you find in the My Bloody Valentine’s engulfing drone or the tectonic shifts of enigma and corrupted love created by The Knife, Salem’s music is the eerie sonic equivalent of one of Hawksmoor’s churches as described in From Hell, a lightless beacon whence we step spellbound, this is the beginning of romance kids, I think we are in love.

Salem- Dirt

13 Monsters comes back on SATURDAY: An indie dance party for people who care

Barfly 11-3

£5/4 NUS/3 cheap list (drop us a line here)

We are having the after-party for the awesome Municipal Waste/Abandon Ship show taking place at the Barfly before, so if you are coming to see the kings of trash metal wrecking the moshpit & presenting their new album ‘the Art of Partying’ stick around to check out 13 Monsters showing off the craft of partying.

And if you just want to come to the club, you know what to expect, check out our playlist for the last one and get impatient:

Black Flag Fuck Buttons Stephen Malkmus Christian Falk feat Robyn Blood Red Shoes Marnie Stern The Fucking Champs Striplight Pylon Bolt Action Five John Cale Animal Collective David E Sugar Von Sudenfed Metronomy Rado Ladio 10Lec6 Ninja High School Prince The Units Sexual Harassment Late of the Pier Rodion Daft Punk Boom Bip Samim Surkin M.I.A Telespazio Joakim Black Mustang Vs Kerrier District Jurgen Paape Indeep Tomboy J-Kwon Dizzee Rascal Souja Boy Crystal Castles Ebony Bones Chromeo Gay Against You Yeah Yeah Yeahs Jenny Wilson Black Kids 50 Cent & Justin Timberlake Andrew WK Marilyn Manson The Knife Jay-Z Amerie M.I.A. Van Halen Les Savy Fav Glass Candy Dan Deacon Devo Blood Brothers Beastie Boys Bruce Springsteen Talking Heads Vampire Weekend Poni Hoax Slayer Lightning Bolt

Which is a party. We care, & LOVE