not not fun

Showing 31–40 of 91 results

  • i im eye my – 7 transmissions – not not fun

    $6.00 Add to cart

    Formed by Philadelphian shred savants Al Creedon and Sean Hamilton as an outlet for their less headbangist musings, the bafflingly monikered (but fun to say) I IM EYE MY pour a lot of hot potions into their scavenger’s cauldron: horizon-line Casio pop, boiled vine psychedelia, kalimba krautrock, stone temple psychosis, dirt road dream sequences, etc. Partially assembled during a session at Kensington’s premier recordist lair Fancy Time Studios, the duo further architected the songs with layers of Farfisa, hand percussion, cheap keyboards, Youtube samples, piano, prepared guitar, feedback, midi miscellany, and more. The rich blitzkrieg of toys, tools, and tricks works; 7 Transmissions is a stirring and striking listen, meshing modes and moods and fidelities into frenzied fusions as unclassifiable as their name. Eccentric electronic exotica for a planet drunk on dreams of devolution. More persuasive proof of the potency of instinctive collaborations. Striated-shadow collage cover artwork by Lisa Armstrong; layout by Chris Kalis. Mastered by Tom Asselin. Edition of 100.


  • elventeen eston – delta house – not not fun

    out of stock

    Positivity’s easier to ruin than restore but Perth fantasy windsurfer John William Tanner’s elusive soft rock miniatures under the Eleventeen Eston handle evoke, in his own words, “a type of optimism and sincerity that exists (or did exist) in popular music, beyond any notion of nostalgia.” Too true. The 13 themes and pleasure cruises comprising Delta Horizon, his debut, exude a loose, relaxed warmth, cyclical and sun-soaked and spacious, like the soundtrack to some mythically faded new wave instructional hang gliding video. Pastel piano melodies, funky phasered keyboard presets, rubber band basslines, and upbeat coastal Stratocaster hooks bop and weave atop lean session drum tracks, swooping from memory-hijacked Australian vacation-rock to sensual sky-lounge abstraction and back. Certain sectionals feel in league with that dusky interzone of sleek psych and smooth jazz captured on certain late 80′s Innovative Communication releases, though Tanner’s own heroes hew more to breezy prog (Masayoshi Takakana) and afro-cosmos groove (Teo & Fabrizio Fattori). Whatever the roots, Delta Horizon has been a repeat jam gem ever since we heard the roughs last year, and we’re stoked to share it wide. Expect more from this waverunner before long. Mastered by Brian Pyle. Warped aerial TV landscape J-card designed by the artist. Edition of 100.


  • doll food – marrow deep – not not fun

    $6.00 Add to cart

    Doll Food first emerged as a solo vehicle for Bri LaPelusa’s bleached experiments in extended vocal improvisation layered with samples sourced from hypnosis videos and weight loss tapes, but the addition of multi-instrumentalist (and romantic foil) Brandon Volz roughly one year ago enriched the project’s opaque, vaporous psychedelia with an extra dimension of enigmatic dread. Marrow Deep collects the Iowa City duo’s six strangest slices of stained glass tone decay to date, basement choir loops unspooling under amber waves of gain and delay. In places LaPelusa’s witchy, wordless voice tapestries evoke the cryptic basement weirdness of Inca Ore or early U.S. Girls, cracked American diviners singing through the psychic sludge of disappearing dreams. An inspired suite of haunted heartlandia, uniquely creeped and fully improvised (and, incidentally, recorded on Cuticle’s 1/4 inch reel-to-reel machine following his recent relocation to Germany). That the group often performs in drag, dressed all in black, further feeds their murky mythos: “I Was Hungry And It Was Your World.” Cut to the Marrow. Full-color double-sided J-cards designed by LaPelusa. Edition of 100.


  • flat fix – an unkempt house – not not fun

    $6.00 Add to cart

    The transformation from trashed noise to tranced programming irks some technocrats but the truth is such shifts only highlight the kinship between these parallel modes of longform electrical activity; hypnosis and confusion can be achieved with or without drum machines. Newcastle transplants Nick Senger and Cooper Bowman both share storied pasts in improvisational amplifier damage as performers (Castings/Cistern Corrupt and Dry Mouth/Junk Sick, respectively) and label heads (Spanish Magic and Altered States Tapes), but recent efforts have focused on Flat Fix, their heavily dazed hardware duo. The pair oscillate between roles and equipment intuitively, allowing the pieces to accrue and unfurl across fried expanses of psychedelic repetition. Recorded straight to two-track tape at their home studio in Melbourne, An Unkempt House collects three recent worm-hole constructs for a half-hour factory tour through weirdly wired mazes of flatliner pulsing and melting signal dreams. Leave the club; enter the Unkempt House. Mastered by Australia’s Prime Minister of Musicological Exports, Mikey Young. Double-sided silkscreened vellum artwork by Tokyo’s Crooked Taper Ryo Kuramoto. Edition of 100.


  • skeppet – phase 3 – not not fun

    $12.00 Add to cart

    Though active for roughly half a decade, instrumental Scandinavian hypno-kosmische duo Skeppet (Swedish for ‘vessel’ or ‘ship’) have only released two tapes, one 7″, and one split LP, all on local labels in Sweden. Even so, their mantric ceremonial psychedelia hooked us immediately, delivering on the title of a 2010 compilation curated by core members Andreas Malm and Henrik Wallin for their own Kosmisk Väg imprint: The New Wave Of Swedish Cosmic Music. For Phase 3, the group’s first full-length, they drafted Upper Layer Cruiser Martin Nilsson in to play additional percussion, infusing a texture of mind-washed congas within their futurist Popul Vuh ascension voyages and gracefully opiated raga-rock. The album mimics the journey of a deep-orbiting craft, first spiraling deep into the ether, eclipsed and endless (the 20-minute wormhole “Den Nya Kusten” aka ‘the new coast’), before arcing back towards the solar wind, increasingly sunbathed and radiant (“Solskeppet” fittingly kicks off the B side: ‘sun-ship’). A refined exploration of transportive aerodynamics and escape pod jamming by a sub-radar squadron who’ve paid their dues in the engine room. Recorded in waves across three years, partially at Skeppet’s home studio in Malmo and the rest at TonGeneration Studio with Björn Stegmann. Mastered by Eric Hanson. Block-stamped graphic artwork and layout by Henrik Wallin. Edition of 333.


  • matrix metals – flamingo breeze – nnf

    out of stock

    The Southern California mythology glints in the irises of certain dreamers more radiantly than it does in others, and few crews have begun capturing the imaginary high life of neon Corvette rides, Ray-Bans at night, and sea-breeze mind-surfing better than the Outer Limits Recordings collective. They operate under most radars but their output is a radical Rubik’s Cube of riddles, tape hiss, and tranced pop utopias. Matrix Metals is casually referred to as an “alien lounge music” project, but that’s not even the half of it. A hotwired collection of fringe-vision vignettes that roves from ghost club beats to astral 80s TV theme songs to loopy interdimensional dub-funk and beyond, Flamingo Breeze is a capitalized question mark in the NNF canon, and a recent obsession of ours. Anonymous pro-dubbed white tapes in cases with full-color “VHS box collage” J-cards designed by the artist, plus an insert and 2 tickets to a Matrix Metals performance at a fictional club in the future. Edition of 125.
    -nnf


  • 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.


  • white poppy – s/t – not not fun

    out of stock

    British Columbian inner-peacenik Crystal Dorval’s “experimental therapeutic pop” project White Poppy has been evolving and percolating into fresh forms the past couple years but last winter she ventured out from her bedroom haven, packing a satchel full of 4-track tapes and boarding a boat across the Strait Of Georgia to the town of Ladysmith, on Vancouver Island, to The Noise Floor Recording Studio, to mastermind and mix the ten deluxe, delirious, dream-gaze gems comprising her self-titled full-length debut. The trek was a triumph. Fusing the warm, washed tonalities of her earliest cassette-blurred lotus meditations within a richer range of glittering guitar gestures, sky-way keyboard cascades, and neon-violet vocal refractions, the collection captures the catchy, dizzy fuzz and textured, opiated heights of Dorval’s deceptively vulnerable songcraft. The see-sawing balance of faded, forlorn freefalling (“Emotional Intelligence,” “Existential Angst”) with buoyant, blissed independence-pop (“Wear Me Away,” “Without Answers”) conjures a real rainbow mood ring three-dimensionality, a kaleidoscope of intimate drifter soul. True-gaze for a newer age. Extensive debut UK/European tour this spring. Full-color j-cards with Parthenon-portraiture artwork by Ms. Dorval and imprinted pink cassettes. Hand-numbered edition of 100.


  • afterhours – lowlife – not not fun

    $12.00 Add to cart

    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.