expensive shit - powwow with chopper - nnf - cass - 5$

Named (hopefully) after the scorching ‘75 Fela LP that was inspired by an incident where Nigerian cops planted a joint on him but then he ate it to destroy the evidence and then they detained him till they could inspect his feces (can you believe that?!), Expensive Shit are a wrecked wrecking crew from Austin that specialize in braindead riff carnage of the rawest order. By their own interweb admission they consider their influences “sludge meditation” and “winging it” and their band policy is “no practice, we play anywhere.” That said, Powwow With Chopper – the band’s first public release as far as our we know – road-blasts through gnarly terrain: pulsing avalanches of zen distortion, basement garbage drums, mono-chord ascension marches, etc. No maps, no artifice, just now-minded in-the-blood-red street fighter rock chaos. Pro-imprinted tapes in wild double-sided full-color J-cards with crazy “Zangief chain fight” artwork by Pittsburgh rip-nagogic scholar Spencer Longo. Edition of 128.
-nnf

dylan ettinger - bringin' the heat - nnf -cassingle - 5$

Companion cassingle to the Smokin’ 7 inch (NNF177) finds Ettinger out on his own, sans The Heat, but even without back-up he still brings it. “Bringin’ The Heat” is a killer coast guard coda, searchlights fanning out, SWAT Team guitar licks, hypnotized Kevlar keyboard prisms, delicate synth wah surf spray misting up your fuschia Oakleys. It’s make-it-or-break-it time; be a pro. The other song on here is “Cancer,” which washes over the closing credits as the cast and info scroll down and people leave the theater. A melancholic cocaine-y synth-pop outro ode with multiple micro-solos and some defeated echo vocals crooning out the final fade-to-black vibes: we did what we could, it was what it was, but forget it Jake that’s life on the squad, another day another dollar (or something). Material repeats on both sides to save you some flipping. Pro-imprinted cassettes in full-color J-cards with art by NNF. Edition of 125.
-nnf

robedoor - raiders - nnf - cass - 6$

"Following their 2008 East Coast tour with Woods and Pocahaunted the Robedoor agenda has mainly been: hibernating in the City Terrace zone above east LA, adding a drummer/modular synth dealer, and letting the smoke rise. Raiders is the first RBDR LP since 2008’s Endlessly Blazing and is the result of almost six months of slow-burn transformative tape machine meditation helmed by Mr. Ged Gengras. Bummed guitars, loner drone tones, low caverns of reverbed drums and rumble, echo dislocation, and dead voices cascade down into the isolated highways. Song modes are carved out and then left to rot. Features early trio live set staples like “Indo Shadow” and “The Downcast Eye.” You can’t stick your hand in the same black river twice. Change or be changed. LPs in jackets with cover photo by Caitlin C. Mitchell. Edition of 500 (250 on marbled grey, 250 on black). " -nnf

nasa - diamonds & wood - nnf - cass - 6$

These post-everything (noise-rock, kraut-punk, thrash-psych), post-Floridian (they live all over the place now...Canada, East Coast, etc) post-teens (somebody’s 20) have a savvy knack for mainlining that exact slow-burn basement car crash guitar/drums symbiosis that makes us wanna simultaneously mosh, steal a skateboard, and put out a tape. The previous NASA cassette on NNF (Bummer Daze) rolled in more of a groove-damaged Blues Control-on-glue mode, and the production was kinda clean and line-in sounding in places. But Diamonds & Wood (in addition to being the name of a bangin' Underground Kingz song) is in fact an earlier NASA album, recorded back in 2006 and originally released in an edition of 24 on their own H Tapes imprint. We’ve always wanted to reissue it for more ears, and happily that day has come. A staggering hour-long descent into frenzied depths of overdriven riffing, drum abuse, and distortion psychosis that seems to get inexplicably more and more lo-fi as it grinds on, this is what the teenage garage bands of America in our dreams sound like (not far off from a wasted, rawer Heavy Winged). Sloppy, shredding, surreal, sick, and stupid in equal parts, NASA at the height of their Epcot Center-based powers are nothing if not a shining example of low/high/no-art primitivism in its most gutter and uncut form. Take it or leave it. Pro-dubbed and imprinted tapes in silver-misted cases with full-color wood grain/bejeweled artwork designed by Amanda. Hand-numbered edition of 100.
-nnf

law of the rope - beasts will have you - nnf - cass - 6$

Old folks often spout off to kids about not gettin’ in the car with strangers, but that doesn’t mean you can’t release cassettes by them. Good thing, too, cause bands creep outta the woodwork all the time with hoods on their heads and a fine master in their hand, and who’re we to give ‘em some inquisition shit? Law Of The Rope is an alleged trio (Nadine, Legin, and Beatrix Oppression, in case yr wondering) from the “United States Minor Outlying Islands” (yeah right) who mine a very idiosyncratic vein of isolated bedroom black metal somewhere between the more downtempo miserablist symphonies of Xasthur, the deranged 8-track stream-of-consciousness grooves of Lurker of Chalice, and the harsh arctic blasts of Wold. We’re no experts on the subject, but Beasts Will Have You holds its own against all those touchstones, and even adds a nice non-metal dimension to a lotta the songs that free ‘em up from the genre’s restrictions/expectations. The tape’s 2 16-minute-ish sides stalk through the spectrum of foul moods, at turns caged and violent, other times awash in arch-gothic negative grandeur, fleshed out with somber strings and icy life-in-prison-style keyboards. Bleak is back. Pro-dubbed & imprinted cassettes in black-on-black devourer art cases with black-and-blood paper fangs glued to the plastic. Edition of 100.
-nnf

yuma nora - jewels in the snakepit - nnf - cd - 8$

This is like free jazz soulful sex scattered beat noise brass explosion meets the nicest, quirkiest minds from the dreary Portland streets. We’ve been screaming about them for months as the stupid ass world finally wakes up to their “genius” (-Wire fucking Magazine !). Amy’s sultry as hell, Aaron’s got tribal blues, and Jake’s guitar is barely-there perfection. And thus, the Oregon rain clouds parted to reveal Yuma Nora, brewing up their own storm. (not not fun)

pukers - live in minneapolis - neon commune - nnf - cs -  7$

Iowa City-turned-LA miscreants took their sneering, conceptual punk puke (plus renegade guitarist/corn farmer Will Kapp) on the road last winter for a whirlwind pillaging of living rooms and art dives and one of the dates best caught on tape was this Minnesota gig. Chaos meets content meets a ten-man mosh pit. Future cops beware. In pirated Pukers/peace-logo silkscreened cardstock cases. Edition of 50.
-nnf

malibu falcon - how is hell fact met? all of them witches - nnf - cass - 7$

Hello, history lesson: those who forget the past are condemned to check it out via limited cassette reissues. Or something like that. Malibu Falcon was an early aughts act from Portland, Oregon that existed sporadically in impulsive electrical fires of shows and recording sessions and starred west coast lifers like Eva Inca Ore and Nick Bindeman (plus others) amongst its ranks. Shows were rare, releases even more so, and the combined forces of life and other band commitments soon dissolved the Falcon before a wider awareness could be achieved. Alas. So we are lucky to have on hand this salvaged anthology of 60 minutes of prime time heart-of-weirdness MF legacy. Low basement bass lines pulse under primitive sheets of guitar feedback while Eva alternately whispers, banshee screams, and rants fucked up poetry stories about LSD, boa constrictors, and stealing babies. Their general audio vibe is so heavily art-damaged it’s impossible to tether to any specific scene; too mind-fried and visceral for experimentalism but way too raw and psychotic for any kind of psych rock/pop association either. Total crevasse music, lost in limbo, PSF DIY dreams, dead end riffs, untapped, unconscious, confusion isn’t sex. For fans of freaks. Pro-dubbed tapes with collage art J-cards by Eva Saelens copied on metallic paper. Edition of 100.
-nnf

barrabarracuda- abasement tapes - nnf – cdr – 8$

Confusion is hex. Or worse. Digging around in the BBC vaults yields a lot of dubbed-over Aerosmith tapes and scrawled notes like “chaos jam – LOUD.” Factor in the steady membership flux and restless vibe/sound shifts and you’ve got an archivist’s nightmare on your hands. But here it is anyway. Abasement Tapes spans the band’s last 15 foggy months, culling fucked cuts from early Grace-phase, dual-drummer, post-political, microphone assault all the way to relatively recent Roy-era, stoned-free, art-rant amp-songs. Five tracks, fifty minutes, a thousand years of historical/celebrity shit-talking. Neon stenciled CDRs in black plastic cases with full-color wrap-around collage covers (artwork by Manda), affixed with weird beaded safety pins, plus a stenciled, hand-numbered insert. Limited to 120.
-nnf

pink luminous invocation - pink fog - nnf – cdr –8$ sold out

Psychic smog. Memory-loss drugs. Tapestries of delay pedals. All great avenues to feeling fucked up and blissed/lost. Here’s another. Danish combo Pink Luminous Invocation serve up a half-hour bowl of sonic syrup, laced with wind chimes, methedrone, and déjà vu. Buried voices bleed like clouds, bouts of phasing stasis lapse into electric déjà vu. Like a more burned-out Pelt, or a sleeping Ghosting. Meditative and sedated. Silkscreened CDRs in black plastic cases with silk-screened, hand-stamped wraparound covers studded with jewels, plus a full-color insert. Hand-numbered edition of 71
-nnf

watersports / changeling - split - nnf – cass –8$ sold out

Hello/goodbye. Entrance tones and farewell dissolves. Two of NNF’s pinnacle favorite cell-melting haze-raisers bow heads across a bliss-blind C50. Watersports are the heroically rad Russ and Lea, who head up NYC’s chief trickle-down esoterica fountain/label, White Tapes. The duo’s flow session here, “Mother’s Touch,” rides a smoke-wave of four-dimensional heartbeat pulses and spirit-organ drift-shift into pure hypno-unbecoming. Like being absorbed into a holy amoeba. Obviously: beautiful. Changeling’s B-side, “Great Tranquility,” buries yr ears in even more dream-fog, with voices flayed across infinite green/grey webs of lattice glowing clouds. New age prism-swimming through skies of delay. Color-misted tapes in hand-numbered olive vellum J-cards, with hand-colored off-set heaven-cell stickers on the cover. Artwork by Roy Tatum of Changeling.
-nnf

dreamcolour - spiritual celebration - nnf - cass - 6$ sold out

There’s currently a glut of bands dog-paddling around the trans-continental psych-pond with names involving words like ‘color,’ ‘dream,’ and ‘infinity,’ and Ventura County brass-groove arkestra Dreamcolour are smack thick in the middle of this ’08-‘09 nomenclatorial zeitgeist (though to their credit they use the British spelling). Yet, semi-ironically, the mood of the zones they explore on Spiritual Celebration are wonderfully vintage, with a strange, reverential “out of time” quality that seems decidedly non-NOW. Hand-drums beat along with a steady, easy lope, saxes are crooned (not skronked) smoothly up towards the sun, Farfisa trills further brighten the corners. There’s no damaged FX-abuse or lo-fi freakouts; all minds are fused into one gently simmering open-air spiritual jazz homage. Echoes of Don Cherry abound. The tape is split into three chapters: a stunning 20-minute A-side hayride (“Spiritual Celebration”), a briefer horn flurry piece (“Sun Ritual”), and a gorgeous lunar meditation chamber (“Moon Ritual”). A great West Coast force with an exotic back catalogue and a killer live vibe, worth keeping tabs on. Pro-dubbed cassettes in cases with full-color marker/collage J-cards designed by Amanda. Edition of 100.
-nnf

abe vigoda - skeleton - nnf - cass -7$ sold out

Shit is cliché, but ya can’t fight the fact that time changes EVERYTHING (or wait, maybe it's money?). Either way: we’re pretty old but not so old we’ve forgotten the cradle days of early Abe Vigoda shows when they only liked Smashing Pumpkins, short shorts, and boating shoes, and their sets were short spiky blasts of post-Unwound lo-fi outsider-punk (a la the Sky Route/Star Roof LP). That was a long time ago. But like all good bands the Vigodans have re-invented themselves a half dozen times over since then, and it’s been a totally rad ride to witness the evolution/transformation, especially since their journey’s culminated in the total sparkling tropic magic sunbath of Skeleton, the best AV record ever. Years of fiddling with delay pedal settings and intricate bass/drums equations somehow resulted in a weird, bright, upbeat island punk sound that’s as catchy and life-affirming as it is tripped-out and overwhelming. Who knew? Catch these die-hards at a show in yr neck of the woods any day now; they are now on PERMA-TOUR. Pro-dubbed cassettes in a “Columbia Records”-style super legit J-card. Edition of 200.
-nnf

belly boat -dear robert hanoy- nnf – cd –8$ sold out

All aboard, gang. After 23 months of back-and-forth and waiting/wondering, Zoe and Silvie have finally docked the debut Belly Boat album in NNF harbor, and we are BEYOND happy about it. Dear Robert Hanoy is a scratchy, expansive masterpiece, 14 sung songs of outsider ragtime, rambling European café waltz, and charismatic lyrical chemistry. Influenced equally by Cocorosie, Celine Dion, and Chamillionaire (circa “Ridin’ Dirty”), BB weave piano, accordion, and dueling voices into a freaky, frayed woolen mitten of strange emotions. Put it on, feel weird, throw a snowball. This is a storybook soundtrack for barefoot exploration and natural wonder, culled from years of face-painting, taking pictures of horses, and making best friends laugh. CDs come with full-color 8-panel booklets of artwork by Belly Boat, in sleeves sewn with grunge flannel, strung with grey yarn/clear beads, and flecked with gold dust. Limited to 500.
-nnf

sun araw - heavy deeds - nnf - cd - 9$ sold out

Heavy Deeds, indeed man. One of our So-Cal hometown heroes steps back up to the vinyl plate with a new set of songs that are at once loftier, sweatier, deeper, groovier, and wilder than anything he’s done before (and that’s not said lightly, cause we were stupid-huge fans already). Five focused tracks meshing together the cosmic feedback of The Phynx with the sunshine ecstasy of Beach Head and the equatorial swelter of Boat Trip, plus a potent mainline of primitive rhythm, drug funk, and broken glass, it’s a sick step sideways for the Sun Araw solar system, and an easy contender for Album-of-’09 status. Check the blazing wah streetfight that breaks out mid-way through “Get Low,” the magic brainbath haze soaking into the joints of “Hustle And Bustle,” or the endless feel-good float-away of the climax of “All Night Long;” these are mountaintops, these are trophies, these are heavy deeds. Here’s to hoping the Araw-iverse keeps on keeping on. Mastered by James Plotkin with lil’ Stevie screengrab jacket artwork designed by Stallones, plus a full-color pro-printed double-sided insert. Edition of 600, 400 on marbled blue wax, 200 on black.
-nnf

ORDERING