From Sweden's Braindamage, an
agitated no wave love poem. The kind that's written in letters torn from different bibles, pasted
onto surveillance photos, and delivered through an open bedroom window while you sleep.
Paul White and FOE looked at each
other for some time in silence: at last White took the hookah out of his mouth, and addressed
her in a languid, sleepy voice. "Who are YOU?" said White rubbing his purple brain. This was not an encouraging opening for a
conversation. FOE
replied, rather shyly, "I--I hardly know, sir, just at present-- at least I know who I WAS
when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then."
Yesterday, I snuck into the hallowed halls of Altered Zones to flaunt Stay
Frosty, the shonky, staggerstep icebreaker from Runners. Keep up with them. If you can. And you probably can. I reckon they fall over, often.
NIKE7UP's hyperreal, pop-melting meta-edits are a) a new form of eyeball-burning tween psychedelia, b) pop devouring itself again, or c) the end of western culture. Answer = a,b,c and d) awesome. His latest girl-powered video SWALLOWED NIKE7UP THE WAVE MIX is above, after the jump he answers our 321 questions. [Continues...]
Something new. The first in a regular series of Pinglewood Pingcasts (Subscribe here or follow us on Soundcloud). Each episode will have a different
theme or format and future instalments will include interviews, performances, secrets and more. Our debut episode is
called World Service. It's a tribute to radio and malaria.
At this point we'd usually make a joke about the band's name
or spiral off on some obscure tangent from the song title. Horse
Macgyver
(aka ///▲▲▲\\\) has beaten us.
I once had a dream about a clown that paralysed me with a kiss then slowly, carefully
began to eat my legs. That was nothing compared to these ten minutes of gnawing terror from The Haxan Cloak. Taken from his imminent album and featuring Liam from Trencher on drums this is a sustained
exercise in stately, dark foreboding.
(the) Jelas sound like a band falling down an endless stairwell. If they did ever reach the (paradoxical) bottom, you get the impression they'd climb right back to the top and start all over again. Their new album The Body Parts is out soon and you can see them at this weekend's soon-to-be legendary YES WAY festival in Peckham.
When the new A Grave
With No Name album arrives the whole world will swoon at once, the earth will spin off its axis and we'll all hurtle
towards the sun and eight billion fiery deaths. But it'll be worth it!
The sun sets on 3 x 321 Day with graveyard gigolo and hypnagogic Julio Iglesias, How To Dress Well. His latest tantalising
transmissions will be broadcast by our party hard pals at Transparent on 30th August. Listen to them in all
their glory here and find out what’s obsessing HTDW below. [Continues...]
The video for Beaters' mutant garage gouger
White Hate suggests frontman Jeremy Rojas is no stranger to the old rough and tumble (and blindfolds and whips and
terrifying dudes in red dresses who stare at you on dark desert roads). The answers he gave to our 321 questions also
suggest a preoccupation with the weirder things in life (and conspiracies). If you're having a party you should invite him
and his awesome band. By the looks of this they are really good at parties. [Continues...]
3 x 321 day begins with prodigious young guns, Disclosure. Howard and Guy
moonlight from their day jobs (being each other's teenage brother) to make twilight two-step and dark
night dub. From their debut single on Moshi Moshi, here we
unveil the aptly named Street Light Chronicle Offline Dexterity. After the jump, Guy divulges facts from the worlds of mathematics, biology and physics/farting. [Continues...]
[Note: seems there was a mix up with the track titles, this is actually the amazing Offline Dexterity]
Cedar Senior is from Port Alberni, the salmon capital of the world. Here he sails downriver,
through night and day and in and out of weeks to where the New Amerykahns are. Get his Campsite EP for free from his Bandcamp page.
We start the week, as ever, with a nine-strong choir-slash-orchestra from
Peckham. This week, Wap Wap
Wow with The Round: a literate tale full of swooping, looping harmonies, produced by a trio of
Oxford veterans: Hugo from Chad Valley, Yannis from Foals and Inspector Morse.
Like a Japanese panty vending machine in a convent, Raw Moans is a
paradox of innocence and weird carnality. He makes daydream music that sounds secretly
sordid, and turns Snoop Dogg sex-raps into lilting lullabies. Here he talks about clouds,
roses and the moon, and makes them all sound kind of dirty. [Continues...]
No Womb
are cranked up and caving in. A delirious, derelict punk racket. We stole the cool title from their MySpace. This demented ditty is
from the their live tape on the excellent Comfortable On A Tightrope.