new Chocolate Monk wares. Dilloway etc

dylan_nyoukis · 08.27.2009, 01:29 PM

Available now. Sound clips etc http://chocolatemonk.co.uk/available.htm

@page {size:21cm 29.7cm;} .ExternalClass P {margin-bottom:0.21cm;} Chris Forsyth & Nate Wooley - “The Duchess Is Dead, Long Live The Duchess” CDr
“Global navigation satellite sytsems have made the old surveying process of triangulation unnecessary. That is to say, when you want to make a map these days, you just take a big cosmic snapshot & draw it. Guess it beats working out your scale of reference from a few points on the ground with some string & pencils. However, these two polite, mannered gentlemen are old fashioned. And old fashioned is the kind of guys the world needs, because they're the kind you would let babysit your kids. So instead of downloading the Buddha app to a fucking iphone, the pair go Euclidean by laying down lines across each other's playing, quietly looking for fixed angles. Little bubbles & abrasions from Wooley's trumpet mouthpiece. Planes of wavering tone from Forsyth's guitar. Live at Zorn's club in NYC.” - Angela Sawyer, Weirdo Records

Aaron Dilloway - “Door With No Handle” CDr
A major oxide wobbble as the Michigan master of magnetic tape hiss finally delivers some dementia for the Monk. All the tangled up tape loop mess you know and love, with plenty of slow-motion sludge, aquatic gurgles and sleep inducing rust to get your mind drenched. Junked sounds of the 8 track come crawling out of the speakers alongside vocal chew. A spirited take on a demented dusk. File under Catatonic Dumpster Music, and keep it beside your private stash.

Usurper & Sticky Foster - “Usurper And Sticky Foster” CDr
Some of the more schooled of you may remember Sticky from many years back when Bananafish asked “Hey, phone billists, is Sticky a wanker?”, I knew the answer, even before i caught sight of his boufant and the tight salmon coloured strides. Now the one time A-Band member and former Leith Walk man about town spends his time chasing tail in Columbia under the thinly veiled disguise of 'english teacher'. Here Mr Pink Breeks teams up with Auld Reekie chumps Usurper for a mildly greasy stroll into the world of dwarfed out improv, you know the kind of miniscule clunk and clatter that keeps Greg Kelley up at night. Two live sets (Ithaca & Brooklyn) from their USA tour and two Bogata/Edinburgh postal face offs.

Untitled - “choc.195” CDr
This is artist formerly known as Charles/Charred Balls. As you would expect from a Gastric Female Reflex refugee, this thing is all over the place -subdued tape collage, opiate flavoured 'songs', the amazing stuttering hands of a sauced up organist, it's all here bubbling along in one big baffling stew. Hell, it could easily be some grubby outtakes from a Puzzle Punks session. Actually it reminds me of something Charlie Ward (Stomach Ache CEO) would have once slurped on, now wheres my spoon?

Dave Miko - “Doyers Data Dump” 3”CDr
“Think you like poetry, asshole? You've probably never even met the fellow. But this guy has. Even if he is a sloppy painter. And one from that capital of self-shitters, Brooklyn. Yes he has. Been there, that is. And like that poor Greek SOB who died bringing the news of the Athenian victory, the guy's run all the way back here to the land of the living from a zone of arrows and corpses. And he brings you back a session that's epic in the literary sense. Yelling, screaming, ranting, and even some shrieking. Not much else either, save a couple of stray electronic buzzes from the mike. Recorded at a Chinatown hipster bar in front of a few close friends, who were probably shitfaced. In fact, what was Clint Simonson doing there amidst the defeated Persians, bearded fools & fish sauce? Your call, but I say he was on his knees catching the flying spittle in a little cup.” - Angela Sawyer, Weirdo Records

Zack Kouns - “The Holometabolous Larval Process As Metaphor For Man's Destiny” CDr
Kouns is a delerious spirit, from pig iron country, OH, USA. He grabbed my lapels once, wild-eyed. All wine reek and holy smoke, just started yelling at me “I got something for you, brotherman, Its a 40 minute modern liturgical, transcendental death jazz composition.” uh-huh.. “It compares the insects process too mankinds development, dig?.” ummm.. “I Think a wiry cat like you might just beable to handle the juices.” O..K... He proceeded to press a master tape into my trembling mit. And so here it is, one mans vision.

The Hunter Gracchus - “The Bolsheviks Shat In My Brain” CDr
New hydroponic sketches of freakdom from Sheffield that should satisfy those of you with that roaring appetite for freedumb jams and methnic drone-outs. I hear delerious barkings of glue factory workers, the hanging heaviness of the local nut houses 'drum and squal' therapy sessions, pockmarked harmonium hymns to Harry Pussy, and whole bunch of giblets that I can't quite put my fingers in, but it sure does make one of my eyes twitch, so I say let the sweltering fog descend, we don't need no torch.

Ocelocelot - “Spandex Booze Hound” CDr
“Following CDRs and cassettes for Smokers Gifts and Kovorox Sound, and a track on an Idwal Fisher comp, Melanie Delaney gulps down some fermented plantain extract, squares her shoulders, embarks on another temporary exile from Ashtray Navigations, and takes her rightful place atop the Chocolate Monk bully pulpit. The musical spastasms of her solo project Ocelocelot goink in tandem with Jovial Bowel Syndrome, that Midlands medical condish afflicting those with diets high in pig’s milk and sausage muke. Ring modulator abounds on the CD, attaching itself to every decibel like a Louisiana eyeworm, leaving pockmarks across landscapes defined by cornball menses tutorials and cloudy waters from the snout of the matriarch. Delaney charms plasmagnetics and electrosputum with the deftness of the Janitorial Custodians of Jajouka. As Ocelocelot splays her space nuptials across a skyline smeared with mushy peas, and junked Vespas limp across the tarmac at Dragonfly refueling stations, orphans gaze away from the mysterious metal chambers it is their duty to scrub with steel wool. Gawk, urchins.” - S.Glass

Rodger Stella - “Nazot” CDr
More voltaic drip from the minefield of a mind of Stella. Two of the tracks here originally appeared on a super limited cassette on the Nazot label (hence the title here), but you probably missed that in your somnolence. Plus we get an extra 25 minute track,, thats over 77 minutes of zonked out sci-fi damage. A nausea inducing ride, seas on saturn style, using the same demented tape technique as on the Foucault Zombie sessions.

UFO Antler Band - “Cauldron B.C.” CDr
The Gas Shepherds are dead, found throttled in some midlands bog, an emacipated mess. But weep not, be brave, for from the ashes comes the suitably psych-damaged UFO Antler Band. In the red keyboards and vocal murk that reminds me of early A-Band sputter are led a stumbling by the tremelo shiver of a cavemans hand unveiling the gauzy guitar sound of that 'up all night revelation' feeling. All, eh, 'produced' with more hiss than a bag of snakes. I can almost hear De Waards wiseman contempt. But we don't need none of that shit round this hole in the ground, right?

MellySingsDoom · 08.27.2009, 01:35 PM

Cheers for the heads up, dylan. Any news on Colour Out Of Space?

08.27.2009, 01:29 PM	#1
dylan_nyoukis little trouble girl Join Date: Apr 2006 Location: brighton, england Posts: 88	Available now. Sound clips etc http://chocolatemonk.co.uk/available.htm @page {size:21cm 29.7cm;} .ExternalClass P {margin-bottom:0.21cm;} Chris Forsyth & Nate Wooley - “The Duchess Is Dead, Long Live The Duchess” CDr “Global navigation satellite sytsems have made the old surveying process of triangulation unnecessary. That is to say, when you want to make a map these days, you just take a big cosmic snapshot & draw it. Guess it beats working out your scale of reference from a few points on the ground with some string & pencils. However, these two polite, mannered gentlemen are old fashioned. And old fashioned is the kind of guys the world needs, because they're the kind you would let babysit your kids. So instead of downloading the Buddha app to a fucking iphone, the pair go Euclidean by laying down lines across each other's playing, quietly looking for fixed angles. Little bubbles & abrasions from Wooley's trumpet mouthpiece. Planes of wavering tone from Forsyth's guitar. Live at Zorn's club in NYC.” - Angela Sawyer, Weirdo Records Aaron Dilloway - “Door With No Handle” CDr A major oxide wobbble as the Michigan master of magnetic tape hiss finally delivers some dementia for the Monk. All the tangled up tape loop mess you know and love, with plenty of slow-motion sludge, aquatic gurgles and sleep inducing rust to get your mind drenched. Junked sounds of the 8 track come crawling out of the speakers alongside vocal chew. A spirited take on a demented dusk. File under Catatonic Dumpster Music, and keep it beside your private stash. Usurper & Sticky Foster - “Usurper And Sticky Foster” CDr Some of the more schooled of you may remember Sticky from many years back when Bananafish asked “Hey, phone billists, is Sticky a wanker?”, I knew the answer, even before i caught sight of his boufant and the tight salmon coloured strides. Now the one time A-Band member and former Leith Walk man about town spends his time chasing tail in Columbia under the thinly veiled disguise of 'english teacher'. Here Mr Pink Breeks teams up with Auld Reekie chumps Usurper for a mildly greasy stroll into the world of dwarfed out improv, you know the kind of miniscule clunk and clatter that keeps Greg Kelley up at night. Two live sets (Ithaca & Brooklyn) from their USA tour and two Bogata/Edinburgh postal face offs. Untitled - “choc.195” CDr This is artist formerly known as Charles/Charred Balls. As you would expect from a Gastric Female Reflex refugee, this thing is all over the place -subdued tape collage, opiate flavoured 'songs', the amazing stuttering hands of a sauced up organist, it's all here bubbling along in one big baffling stew. Hell, it could easily be some grubby outtakes from a Puzzle Punks session. Actually it reminds me of something Charlie Ward (Stomach Ache CEO) would have once slurped on, now wheres my spoon? Dave Miko - “Doyers Data Dump” 3”CDr “Think you like poetry, asshole? You've probably never even met the fellow. But this guy has. Even if he is a sloppy painter. And one from that capital of self-shitters, Brooklyn. Yes he has. Been there, that is. And like that poor Greek SOB who died bringing the news of the Athenian victory, the guy's run all the way back here to the land of the living from a zone of arrows and corpses. And he brings you back a session that's epic in the literary sense. Yelling, screaming, ranting, and even some shrieking. Not much else either, save a couple of stray electronic buzzes from the mike. Recorded at a Chinatown hipster bar in front of a few close friends, who were probably shitfaced. In fact, what was Clint Simonson doing there amidst the defeated Persians, bearded fools & fish sauce? Your call, but I say he was on his knees catching the flying spittle in a little cup.” - Angela Sawyer, Weirdo Records Zack Kouns - “The Holometabolous Larval Process As Metaphor For Man's Destiny” CDr Kouns is a delerious spirit, from pig iron country, OH, USA. He grabbed my lapels once, wild-eyed. All wine reek and holy smoke, just started yelling at me “I got something for you, brotherman, Its a 40 minute modern liturgical, transcendental death jazz composition.” uh-huh.. “It compares the insects process too mankinds development, dig?.” ummm.. “I Think a wiry cat like you might just beable to handle the juices.” O..K... He proceeded to press a master tape into my trembling mit. And so here it is, one mans vision. The Hunter Gracchus - “The Bolsheviks Shat In My Brain” CDr New hydroponic sketches of freakdom from Sheffield that should satisfy those of you with that roaring appetite for freedumb jams and methnic drone-outs. I hear delerious barkings of glue factory workers, the hanging heaviness of the local nut houses 'drum and squal' therapy sessions, pockmarked harmonium hymns to Harry Pussy, and whole bunch of giblets that I can't quite put my fingers in, but it sure does make one of my eyes twitch, so I say let the sweltering fog descend, we don't need no torch. Ocelocelot - “Spandex Booze Hound” CDr “Following CDRs and cassettes for Smokers Gifts and Kovorox Sound, and a track on an Idwal Fisher comp, Melanie Delaney gulps down some fermented plantain extract, squares her shoulders, embarks on another temporary exile from Ashtray Navigations, and takes her rightful place atop the Chocolate Monk bully pulpit. The musical spastasms of her solo project Ocelocelot goink in tandem with Jovial Bowel Syndrome, that Midlands medical condish afflicting those with diets high in pig’s milk and sausage muke. Ring modulator abounds on the CD, attaching itself to every decibel like a Louisiana eyeworm, leaving pockmarks across landscapes defined by cornball menses tutorials and cloudy waters from the snout of the matriarch. Delaney charms plasmagnetics and electrosputum with the deftness of the Janitorial Custodians of Jajouka. As Ocelocelot splays her space nuptials across a skyline smeared with mushy peas, and junked Vespas limp across the tarmac at Dragonfly refueling stations, orphans gaze away from the mysterious metal chambers it is their duty to scrub with steel wool. Gawk, urchins.” - S.Glass Rodger Stella - “Nazot” CDr More voltaic drip from the minefield of a mind of Stella. Two of the tracks here originally appeared on a super limited cassette on the Nazot label (hence the title here), but you probably missed that in your somnolence. Plus we get an extra 25 minute track,, thats over 77 minutes of zonked out sci-fi damage. A nausea inducing ride, seas on saturn style, using the same demented tape technique as on the Foucault Zombie sessions. UFO Antler Band - “Cauldron B.C.” CDr The Gas Shepherds are dead, found throttled in some midlands bog, an emacipated mess. But weep not, be brave, for from the ashes comes the suitably psych-damaged UFO Antler Band. In the red keyboards and vocal murk that reminds me of early A-Band sputter are led a stumbling by the tremelo shiver of a cavemans hand unveiling the gauzy guitar sound of that 'up all night revelation' feeling. All, eh, 'produced' with more hiss than a bag of snakes. I can almost hear De Waards wiseman contempt. But we don't need none of that shit round this hole in the ground, right? __________________ -------------------------------- chocolate monk/blood stereo etc --------------------------------
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08.27.2009, 01:35 PM	#2
MellySingsDoom invito al cielo Join Date: Mar 2006 Posts: 8,662	Cheers for the heads up, dylan. Any news on Colour Out Of Space? __________________ Snow on Easter Sunday - Jesus Christ in reverse.
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