Featuring : 555


We are watching the messy scrap that is the UK political campaign with a grimace underpinned by feelings that are hard to describe.

They are hard to describe because, at least in paper, they sound like the sort of destination we aspire to reach:

  • The dark epiphany that descends upon the Lovecraftian hero as he realises that humanity is but a defenceless baby babbling away in a cradle rocked by slimy monstrosities.
  • The unhinged violence lurking under the monotonous, allegedly rational grid of a Ballardian autobahn.
  • The moment when Roddy Piper dons his visor and gazes at the crowd around him, and detects those skeletal invaders getting on with their day, amidst an unsuspecting (or complicit) humanity.

Those are the scenarios of our favourite fiction, the ones we (botchedly attempt to) represent in this blog of yours.

They are also an exaggerated version of our feelings when we read the papers and we watch the news, when we see the army of grimacing clones levitating through empty industrial parks, surrounded by mannequin-like people blandishing placards with facile slogans, when we ponder that our society might be as paranoid and nasty as one might infer from the things this well-informed army campaigning for their vote is peddling.

Are “we” really like that? If that’s the case, then the awful truth that slowly dawns upon us is that we are in fact the Monster, a standard ending in the Lovecraftian opus. Burn us with fire, trap us with the Elder sign!

We don’t want it.

And when we are optimistic, we don’t believe it either. We think that we can do better. This is why we have started working on the manifesto for our own political movement, one that we will get kick-started as soon as we are done with Bloodborne, sadly not in time for this general election, but maybe for the next one.

Our vision is thus: while the political mainstream is appealing to fear of the outsider, nostalgia for the past and dread about the future, we shall call for the opposite. An embrace of the outside, policies to overcome the puny boundaries of this Island and expand in all directions: under the seas looking for Leviathan and Atlantis, into space, past the veil of reality itself, crashing through astral planes to liaise with the spirits of our past, the post-human scions of our future, and even the fair peoples of Europe.

Our ultimate goal is to leave this fair land to the pixies, turn our nation into a roving caravan of psychedelic gypsies marching down the axes of an invisible Tesseract, blasting from their speakers blissful jams such as the ones we are posting today.


Whenever we run into the countryside, it is looking for the confluence of feelings and the spiritual healing contained in Calidonia County’s The Ghosted Years.

It conveys with its subtly undulating harmonies the feeling of serene joy with which the walker beholds the fields expanding into the horizon, from a vantage point reached after a day of hard marching. The irregular, organic drip-drip of its rhythms could represent the flow of the streams, or the pace of her progress, as she accumulates the loveliest of all tirednesses in her bones, as if the hand of a benevolent God itself was nudging her towards an afternoon nap under the trees of its Garden.

Calidonia County – The Batteries in God’s Hands

Go and get this tape for Moon Glyph (again!).


555’s Swan River Yogue is based in a live performance at New Orlean’s Swan River Yoga.

Consistent with our vision of the future, and also with the sounds and sights of Calidonia County, the mood is of exploration, openness and possibility, but taking place in an abstract ocean over which stretches a Proteus-like archipelago.

Each of its islands represents an essential concept around which we orbit in a dream-like daze, grasping, if only for a moment which is enough, the oceanic undercurrents, migratory flows of colourful birds, and trade in gifts that binds these things together, and us with them, in a graph of astounding beauty.

555 – Twin Verses

Get the tape from Constellation Tatsu. Here is 555’s Patreon page.

(We nabbed the artwork above from Hello Games’ No Man’s Sky gallery).


Featuring : Apostille

LSSN034 1400X1400Today we bring you Apostille.  Who is occasionally known as Michael Kasparis.

We’ve had the pleasure of witnessing Mr Kasparis  perform live twice.  Once in the band Please (at the excellent Yes Way festival) and once in support of Group Rhoda (who released her first record on his Night School label).  On both occasions, it’s fair to say, you couldn’t keep your eyes off him.  For Kasparis live is a maelstrom of internalised occult energy straining and leaking out into the room.  Like a faulty containment tank on your nuclear reactor of choice — we were irradiated in his glow.

Today we post Apostille.  In particular, Olivia’s Eyes, a weird and winding synthpop song.

Weird in as much as it includes multiple duets, only one of which isn’t between Kasparis and himself.  The manic heckling of “do you really want to know” is perhaps the live voice we were used to but before long the two Kasparis’s are one and the creeping dread continues apace — like Throbbing Gristle in pop-infiltration mode, only more verbose.

The winding: a relentless synth melody and drum machine, seemingly set in motion to keep order and instead finding themselves mere observers of the malevolence around them.

Perfect synthpop then.

Apostille – Olivia’s Eyes

Olivia’s Eyes is taken from the album Powerless.  That’s out on Monday (27/4) on Nightschool Records.  You can get it right here.

Sparkle tortoiseshell

Featuring : Kara-lis Coverdale


Sparkle tortoiseshell, stuttering howl. Man-glitch in bitstream. Breathing in the fumes of sounds. Noises reassure and tumble – arpeggiated id.

Singing glass, full of snarl. Recoils at fingertips. Sense patterns before they are fully perceived.

Blue sucked through eyes. Soul-emptying water. Atrocities of stones.

Knuckles seek truth. Gnaw at the earth.

Spaces in-between words a collapsed vortex.

Kara-lis Coverdale – Saps _h

Buy Aftertouches by Kara-lis Coverdale from Sacred Phases

Jordan Pontell

Torn asunder

Featuring : Courtesy


Courtesy crawl from a swamp of smoke, they pierce our flesh with delightful hooks, they threaten to draw and quarter us like that lovely bit towards the end of Hellraiser.

(We can think of several beasts of Bloodborne with a similar demeanour, but that’s a different post.)

Perhaps the most obvious hook, and one that we obviously relish, is Liars: Courtesy share our favourite crypto-rockers taste for zones of penumbra and abrasion that we listeners traverse in a pointless quest for meaning.

We are fooled by a pale light in the ground and crouch for it, hoping to fetch a silver jewel inscribed with an interpretation of this territory, and instead are throttled by a skeleton arm protruding from the ground, wait, an army of them. There is something almost slapstick about this, but in an Evil Dead kind of way.

Explanations are therefore defied. The personal metamorphoses into the criminal and occult, in a process facilitated by a crooning that pulses, every so often, with blurry beauty, and sounds organic like rivers emptying through estuaries, corpses decomposing into the green, a slow bruise indeed.

The other feature that they share with Liars (especially in their previous, conceptual-album-oriented incarnation) is the playful combination of influences within an obscurely coherent framework – each of these influences is of course, another one of those hooks that tears us apart yet makes us swoon.

We’ll just mention three echoes we detect here: the primitive electronics of Silver Apples, especially in the bounce of today’s track ComEd; the discombobulated death rattle of the dirgey branch of the glue-shit-whatever-wave diaspora (people like Sic Alps etc.), and the vaudevillesque delight of a B-series horror soundtrack, with its shrill organs and eerie vibes.

It is not obvious what is that binds these things together, what this Slow Bruise thing is about. The action is not on camera, the horror is implied. We hear sirens but hear no shots. We slip on the blood but see no bodies. There could be paranormal forces at play but they dance out of sight whenever we turn around. Maybe the explanation is simpler. We spin in the darkness, and this is a dancing of sorts.

For a moment, we think that might be the point. And then they pull from their hooks and we are torn asunder.

Courtesy – ComEd

Get Slow Bruise from the brilliant Moon Glyph.

Sleeping problems

Featuring : Sleepwalker


I have been a chronic sleepwalker since I was a child. Over the years, sleepwalking incidents have precipitated the break-up of at least one romantic relationship, led indirectly to the dissolution of one band and resulted in the annulment of various previously long-standing friendships.

There have been some funny anecdotes, too. And no murders or walking off of buildings. Yet.

Other sleeping related problems: I have a nervous tic that, if I fall asleep on a train – which I always do – causes me to repeatedly punch the passenger next to me. Every time I fall asleep with a partner I have a sudden, panic-inducing sensation of falling that causes me to jump out of my skin – and scare the shit out of the person I’m with. When I am depressed I sleep for several days straight at a time, living off sips of water from the glass by my bed in tiny bursts of wakefulness.

Sometimes I like to sleep with headphones on and the sound turned up LOUD. When you hear bits of music in your dreams or just as you’re falling asleep every note is unpredictable, a surprise, and the texture is abstract and gorgeous – a more immersive and synesthetic music experience than can be offered by any commercial chemical.

Sleepwalker – Sleepwalker

Sleepwalker by Sleepwalker is a 1990 12″ that can be found on Ro Maron’s excellent Collected #1 compilation.

Boomkat blurb about the compilation – and who Ro Maron is – below:

Very necessary New Beat / Acid House / early Belgian techno survey highlighting the pivotal output of Rembert De Smet aka Ro Maron. Hailed as “one of the top 5 best users of a 303 of all time” by JD Twitch (Optimo), Maron defined The Sound of Belgium circa ’87-’90 with a string of then-unprecedented productions spinning elements of Chicago House, EBM and Freestyle Electro with a glammed-up Belgalo swagger and fizzy, melodic mentalism that remedied the relative cheese of prolific New Beat production team, Morton Sherman Bellucci, for example. After pop success in the mid ’80s with 2 Belgen, Maron was one of the earliest adopters of the sound which ruled European and even selectr Detroit/Chicago/New York dancefloors during that era, setting the foundations for what would refract into myriad strains of Hardcore Rave, Techno and Goan Trance by normalising the nastiest electronic sounds with a real knack for ‘floor-clawing hooks and grooves. As history tells us, that scene soon collapsed due to rabid commercial exploitation, but left us with a wealth of music that has long been snubbed as dumb or daft by techno snobs, but also utterly adored by everyone from V/Vm to AFX and Powell. These 35 tracks run the gamut of New Beat, from Maron’s finest moment with Zsa Zsa La Boum’s techno pop masterpiece, ‘Something Scary’ to the EBM funk of his SM project and to its segue into proto Hardcore Rave and Trance with Agaric’s ‘Tiled Room (Reversed Mix)’ or Trance Trax’s ‘A-Cone’, via ambient sidelines as Sleepwalker and the drunken nuttiness of his Madman remix for Lords Of Acid’s ‘For Grown Ups’, thru to the lascivious Chicago styles of 2 Body’s, his house project with Maurice Engelen aka Praga Khan. It’s a shame that they couldn’t include their Gay version of ‘French Kiss’ or the naughtier, Enya-twocing mix of Air of Gloom’s ‘Meditation’, but it still stands as one of the strongest collections of this era you’ll find outside last year’s TSOB boxset, illuminating the coke and düvel-fuelled alternative to the UK’s MDMA-gobbling acid house scene, which would eventually splice and sample the Belgian styles to morph into the UK’s explosive hardcore scene. In case you can’t tell, we fxxking love this stuff and give it a massive recommendation.


Cashing in on our cosmic endowment

Featuring : Montañamuerte


Nick Bostrom’s Superintelligence is up there with George Dyson’s Darwin Among the Machines in its mind-blowing it isn’t sci-fi but could be topic.

It is a philosophical/strategic assessment of the prospects of Superintelligence (i.e. the development of Artificial Intelligences which are to us humans what we are to flies or worms), and why it is important that we are very careful with the development of such things. The reason for paying attention to such matters that the development of Superintelligence might well be the last problem we ever have – because it ends us, or because it ends all our problems.

We will talk in future posts about the awesome/awful scenarios where things go wrong – poetically/starkly named situations like Perverse Instantiation, Infrastructure Profusion or Mind Crime.

However, today we wanted to talk about the payoff if things go right and we create Superintelligences that work collaboratively with our species to make the most of our Cosmic Endowment.

What does this mean?

If we are able to create general artificial superintelligences, this means that in principle we (or they) should also be able to simulate and/or upload human intelligences in a computational environment implemented in (Von Neumann) probes that can be fired into deep space, to spread our species across the cosmos reducing the risks of extinction due to catastrophic events in our planet/system/segment of the galaxy.

These probes would contain inside them genetic information and codes to reproduce flesh-and-blood-and-probably-silicon humans upon arriving to their destination. The universe is made our oyster and we become eternal. That is our cosmic endowment.



This being 20jazzfunkgreats, we consider the music that such humans-but-not-as-you-know them would create and enjoy.

Humans with consciences, hearts, eyes, hands and feet reared in virtual environments surging through the blackness of space and its magnificent wonders. Physically instantiated in terraformable planets or modified to thrive in non-terraformable ones, looking up at stellar configurations which are new, but also familiar, for they are their family’s homes. Achieving feats of architectural engineering, Dyson spheres and the like, perhaps even developing new languages to communicate with whichever lifeforms and conscious phenomena they stumble upon.

We think that their music would be familiar, echoing primate sensibilities evolved over millions of years, since we first gazed – and knew ourselves gazing – at dawn from the primeval savannah, but also alien, shaped by the epic scales that spawned it, by points of view where Terra is but an tiny spot in the cosmic tapestry, physically infinitesimal, but emotionally massive.

We think it would sound a bit like Montañamuerte’s The Space Hates Cowards. Music that comes from the space, and in that reminds us of things as great as Craig Leon’s songs of the Nommos, or the uncanny resonances in Mica Levi’s soundtrack for Under the Skin, but also comes from us, and is pregnant with a great love preserved across impossible expanses of space and time, for Terra, our mother.

Montañamuerte – Arrat

The Space Hates Cowards is a limited edition (50 units) cassette published by Discos Porno and La Mano de Matar. You should get it here. You can find more info about Cosmonaut C, the great human behind it, here.

(Artwork by John Harris for the Sinclair ZX Spectrum Basic Programming Manual (!!) as found in this Tumblr)

Magnificent Unease

Featuring : Heroin in Tahiti


We’ve been sitting on Heroin in Tahiti’s wonderful Sun and Violence for a while, but what more appropriate time write this post than over an Easter weekend bathed in sun and drenched in the blood of Christ Yharnam.

Superdavoli is the album’s full blooded exploration of the nexus between the Spaghetti Western and Giallo — because when your breakdown consists of screams you know you’ve come to the right place.  It’s a monstrous prog workout of a track replete with a low synth drone that’d make Tangerine Dream swoon.  Not to mention the melody that’s as beguilingly simple as Carpenter’s murderous earworms.

The thunderous percussion and thousand-yard-stare-synths are a trick Teeth of the Sea pull off so well: planetary size Rock forming a Dyson Sphere around the burning occult power of Psyche.  All that unimaginable solar energy, completely captured and processed by humanity, in service of magnificent unease.

Praise the sun!

Heroin in Tahiti – Superdavoli

Heroin in Tahiti’s Sun and Violence came out on April 4th and you can get it direct from the label here.