not not fun

Showing 21–30 of 45 results

  • bronze – world arena – not not fun

    $12.00 Add to cart

    The West Coast’s weirdest hidden treasure trio, Bronze, have been plying their molten composite of serpentine metro-gnomic drumming, oscillator raga, hash oil free verse, and pendulum bass patterns for seven shaded years, but sonic documentation remains sparse. The new decade, thankfully, has seen them reversing this deficit, first with 2011′s Copper LP, and now with World Arena, which unfolds another octagon’s worth of their signature spellbound smoke-ringed psych-fusion explorations. Tracked at their Trojan Cavern studio/bunker in San Francisco and mastered in Amsterdam by Ruud Lekx, the record freewheels from tranced polyrhythmic sequencer meditations (“Played,” “Quality”) to burnt chrome post-punk electronic experiments (“Almost”) to jazzy, decadent mystery rituals (“Dulcinea,” “Golden Handcuffs”). The way they weld home-wired circuitry modulation with lofty poetics and intuitive live band dynamics feels finessed, and fully-formed – and unusually liberated in today’s world-gone-solo landscape. Live, they’re even more baffling, seesawing from fluid fog-machine narratives to mesmerizing electro-modal jams, owning all zones. Future intercontinental tours should further bolster their standing in metallic arts communities. The Bronze Age is dawning. Black vinyl LPs in jackets with cut-metal photo-collage artwork by the band, plus an 11×17 photocopied insert with lyrics. Edition of 333.


  • afterhours – lowlife – not not fun

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    As much as Los Angeles gleams in the global mind as a gateway to dream fulfillment and televised wealth/fame amalgams, it’s equally a desert of disappointments. Hence the dead-end yoga cults, under-the-bridge tar dealers, valley burnouts, inland empire nightstalkers, and seas of destitute eastside lowlifes. It’s a vibe central to the vision of Afterhours’ languid, nocturnal music, which has evolved from sleekly moody synthesized sleepwalks to an unusually elegant hybridized trip-hop sub-species. Jammed signals sputter under broken minor key scales. Shuffling, crate-digger drum patterns give way to skeletal house rhythms (“Lovesick”), slow washes of shimmering texture (“Outcome”), and sampled, spectral jazz (“Night And Day”). Though crafted with electronic means, most of Lowlife’s six songs center around acoustic, physical sounds – reverbed piano, dusty snares, crisp percussive accents, soft-focus saxophone. Fragile conjurings of urban ambience, the poetry and pulse of isolation, Staying Up Late To Make Music To Stay Up Late To; the world of Afterhours spins through the dark, en route to dawn. Black vinyl LPs mastered by Eric Hanson in downtown skyline jackets designed by Maxfield Hegedus, plus a hand-numbered photocopied insert. Edition of 375.


  • goliath bird eater – go to sleep – neon commune – not not fun

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    NNF’s favorite metal maniac returns with a uniquely studied excursion of post-production silences and obituary riff ritual. Lays you down slowly then gently buries you in the cold earth. Eyeless, satanic spray-glued model heads with black yarn mouth-smoke art, plus an insert. Edition of 50.
    -nnf


  • xander harris – urban gothic – nnf

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    In much the same way as Umberto excavates the graves of old 70’s Euro gore/occult scores for new nightmare-synth strategies, classically trained Austin, TX keyboard-creep maestro Xander Harris (aka Justin Sweatt) scavenges rat-gnawed 80’s basement horror VHS tapes to sift out the glimmering gothic goldflakes hidden within. Grim process, grimmer results. Each of the unlucky 13 tracks on Urban Gothic, his debut full-length, seethe and shiver and boil with sleek synthesizer city-lights paranoia and cool, cold dread. A few are cribbed from the minimal/throbbing John Carpenter handbook (“First Body,” “Crying In The Dark”) and some go for more of a clawhammering industrial approach (“Hunting,” “When The Hammer Starts To Drop”) while a few marry the video undead vibes to an almost thrill-kill cult-dance beat (“Fucking Eat Your Face,” “Tanned Skin Dress”) that pulses blackly like a strobe-lit corpse. A cool detail is that Sweatt’s a decade-deep drummer so every percussion sound on the record is actually manually played on synthetic drum pads, which gives the songs a looser and less mechanical execution. A bad-ass brainbomb of an LP with enough eerie witch-fog anthems to keep even the darkest darkwaver’s head buried in the speaker cabinet. Expect tapes, tours, and even a 100% Silk 12” from this nightstalker in the near future. Black vinyl LPs in jackets with photographed-TV horror stills by Manda B Brown. Edition of 480.
    -nnf


  • LA vampires goes ital – streetwise – nnf

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    Rolling like a stone (thus no moss, man), LA Vampires recontextualizes into a new collab EP, this time with SF-gone-NY lovers rocker Ital. Each song was pieced together from a rainbow of sources – screwed tape loops, multiple drum machines, layers of synth lines and phasings, analog samplers, live vocal remixing, etc – and the results are what you might expect: raw asymmetrical bangers blasting down dim concrete hallways streaked with chemical graffiti and bootleg club lights. Too gritty and blasted for dancing but too bangin’ to sit still, this is a real mutant zone, a white label 12” found in a sewer seething with dry ice and recorded through a wall. Wake up and weird out. Life’s too lame to play it straight. Black vinyl 12 inches in spineless no-hole Euro-style jackets with 90s videodromed art and layout by Spencer Longo. Edition of 600.


  • group rhoda – 12th lp – not not fun

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    Mara Barenbaum’s solo vessel Group Rhoda emerged last year from an introspective incubational phase with one of 2012′s deftest debuts, Out Of Time – Out Of Touch, an alluring, sensory sound-garden of jittery drumbox beats, moody exotica, DIY dub-pop, and elegantly aloof, shadow theater vocal melodies. A series of sustained, long-form tours – both foreign and domestic – soon followed, during which time she began blueprinting the bones of 12th House, her sophomore statement. Recorded and produced in collaboration with Ben Versluis in San Francisco, the album’s eight songs snake through similarly entrancing terrain as her past work but the production this time is starker and spikier, with an almost post-punk clarity in places, which energizes the collection. From witchy island pop (“Day Ruiner,” “Dust”) and dizzy, micro-cosmic disco (“Coral Castle”) through to paisley-flavored circus-psych (“Disappearing Ground”) and wobbly, haunted house dub-damage (“Space Race,” “Blk Mtl”), the record is rich with rarefied Rhoda rhinestones and reflections. Her vocals, as always, pirouette and perplex, detached yet discerning, casting strange dimensions into the music: “finally you look away / you look a way / do you see ghosts walking around? / it’s your town / it’s their town too.” A free-spirited and fascinating follow-up by one of California’s most intriguing young pioneers. Black vinyl LPs in vivid feline-fantasy collage jackets by Mary Elizabeth Yarbrough. Edition of 400.


  • wet hair – radiant lines – nnf

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    Amazing new pair of singles by this ever-evolving Iowa City kraut-pop duo-turned-trio comes in a stunning full-color 22-page pro-printed art book of brand new works by Wet Hair main-men, Shawn Reed and Ryan Garbes. Limited to 500 copies.
    -nnf


  • topaz rags – capricorn born again

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    Grey clouds stay grey. Low light situations birth low-lit moods. It’s all bummer clockwork. West Coast lurk-jazz triad Topaz Rags return to vinyl with their debut long player, Capricorn Born Again, an eight-song comedown recorded/mixed from spring-to-fall of ’09 via a complex 4-track/boombox assemblage method. Everything creaks and hisses, there’s smoke in the air, players at the end of their ropes, lyrics washing over faded raga ballads, slinky electric piano bar depressions, shadow gauze cavern pop. The bell jar is half empty, obviously. Slow dive and sink in. Black vinyl LPs (mastered by Pete Swanson) in jackets designed by Amanda. Edition of 400.
    -nnf


  • afterhours – sleepwalker – not not fun

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    If NYC is the city that never sleeps, then LA’s the one that never wakes. Deep dawn drives through Los Angeles’ fringier fiber optic thoroughfares reveal a nocturnal wonderland of ghosts, bums, lurkers, vampires, and thugs – every stripe of sleepwalker. Which is an all too apt title for Afterhours’ vinyl debut, after a calendar year of altered state incubation via their live weekly radio transmission, “Field Recordings Of The Afterhours,” broadcast from KCHUNG’s Chinatown basement headquarters. Inspired equally by Mo’ Wax obscurities, sound poetry, “Moments In Love,” anime depictions of neo-futurist Tokyo, and Endtroducing, the EP’s four instrumentals slow-zoom like a surveillance camera through shimmering tunnels, glowing skylines, and empty streets, rich with headphone harmonics and the grey romance of isolation. Ain’t it funny how the night moves, when you don’t seem to have as much to lose? Recent recordings have seen Afterhours’ shadow government diversifying into abstracted trip-hop, graphic design, art-world provocations, and Café Del Mar-esque house, so their Sleepwalking ethos is clearly going places. Recorded in Highland Park, CA; additional mixing assistance by Octo Octa. Clear vinyl 12 inches in neon metropolis jackets designed by the group. Edition of 400.


  • profligate – videotape – not not fun

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    The retirement of Noah Anthony’s Night Burger alias (as effected through his fade-to-grey RIP statement, Burnin’ Fast) dovetails fluidly into his latest/greatest burned mind industrial vehicle, Profligate. Named for an NB track off his What Happens Next? tape on Deception Island, Anthony’s new musical operational model retains the eerie bleakness and concrete atmospheres of his previous project but sculpts them into more maximal, dynamic constructions. Videotape is his 2nd vinyl release (after an excellent LP, Come Follow Me), and it expands his agenda with stark, menacing clarity. “Videotape” is a pummeling ascent of chugging drum machines, flatliner synth electricities, and strobe light sequencer details – like a digital bloodrush to the head you can almost dance to. The flip, “Conditioning Trench,” rides a buzzing dystopian bass-pulse strafed with vintage Roland claps and a paranoid midnight highway synth melody through a dubbed out void and into an exquisite vanishing point. Shadows of Sandwell District-ish negative techno and Vatican Shadow sides flash forth here and there, but refracted through a rawer, more physical basement worldview. A bracing, refined statement by a long-flickering light in American underground music. Recorded in Philadelphia, PA throughout 2011. Black vinyl 12 inches in jackets with ‘haunted roses’ portraiture artwork by the esteemed Christine Jones, plus a photocopied insert. Direct mail-order copies come with bonus home-dubbed cassette of six Profligate remixes; digital version of the album comes with three (by Outmode, DJ mdmHEY, and N. Anthony). Edition of 450.