Backdoor Escape From Frog’s Gut
(Chocolate Monk - choc.507) CDR $7.50
Even though no Vietnamese pop music was harmed in the making of Backdoor Escape From Frog’s Gut, be careful not to choke on bones during your travels throughout the westernmost quadrant of The Stinking Empire, that wasteland of mass-comm eavesdropping, loop hypnosis, burgled field recordings, and fracture-scapes that’ll clamp down on your skull like a Gorilla Glue nutcracker. Chocolate Monk’s in-house Clint Eastwood, Jr. (Brant) and Joanne Worley gender reassignment disaster (Glass) have taken every possible precaution to ensure no one exits their hour-long clatter-and-clunk buffet with blood on their hankies. Still, gnaw judiciously, you lion-hearted gonk. Edition of 60
Don’t Bump Your Head!
(Chocolate Monk - CHOC.378) CDR $8.00 (Out-of-stock)
Chocolate Monk’s favorite gutter level archivist splices and dices field recordings sourced from the streets of Philadelphia. Discordant happenings regurgitated into hypno-vignettes. Surprising musical textures and patterns emerge. Numbered edition of 60
Drop-Off Center
(Chocolate Monk - CHOC.357) CDR $8.00 (Out-of-stock)
Twenty-four short tracks by this visual and sound collage artist, smeared into one continuous, delightful ear wallop, sometimes sounding like a Puzzle Punk riding aback a Pork Queen. Recorded while destroying all breakables during their removal from the abandoned house of a hoarder, and at the donation area of a recycling center. Numbered edition of 60
Fuck Piss
(Chocolate Monk) Magazine + CDR $12.00 (Out-of-stock)
In which the Moustache of Mainz (Brandstifter) collages together a 12-page full-colour zine from lost-and-found scraps sent to him from the Portland Peasant (Brant) while the roles are flipped when Brant collages together a short album of sonic nonsense from recordings sent to him from Brandstifter. As delightful as you would expect and with enough random strangeness to send Q-Anon nutters into a froth with their eyes smarting. One person’s detritus is a another fool’s symbolism. Numbered edition of 67
Green Glass
(Chocolate Monk) CDR $8.00 (Out-of-stock)
COMING SOON. Further broadcasts from these two champions of true-brow / street level sound art, or is it a imageless art movie for your ears? Either way, belief makes real. Edition of 60
Scratch Music
(Chocolate Monk - choc.467) CDR $8.00
“Recorded while laying low in Las Vegas,” according to the man with the golden ears about his strange brew of musical noises and non-musical aural fritterings, “using homemade spring boards, hair buzzer, Fukuoku 9000, radio, cicada drones, two-stringed electric guitar, prepared lap steel guitar, found microcassettes, voice, field recordings and DJ mixer feedbacker.” Numbered edition of 50
Smoke Detail
(Chocolate Monk - choc.622) CDR $8.00
Description sequence. Location: Mexican restaurant. Coordinates: 100 miles north of primary residence. Food status: suboptimal. Journey status: optimal. Each travel event: transforms into raw data processing. Route: winding, lesser-known roads. reality distortion detected. Key object: mucho burrito. Symbolic significance: minimal. Twilight detection: active. driving duration: hours. Burrito quality: average. Ritual status: enhances journey experience. Event log: night drive. Data received: initial tracks from Cody. Output: smoke detail. Krautrock framework: raw, minimalist. Album synthesis: rapid, seamless. Recommended use: reflective open-road journeys. Reality-dream boundary: blurred. Edition: 60
Whether on the Ones
(Chocolate Monk - choc.584) CDR $8.00
Frantic yet focused sound collage work by two of The Stinking Republic's finest noise manglers. Many layers, peel to reveal. “In the winter of 2021 I started squatting at my friend’s art studio in Longview, Washington,” explain Brant. “Along the way I started an audio diary of the experiences I had in and around the thrift store. Quickly I became well acquainted with all the local miscreants and these characters also became part of the mix.” Kruger continues, “The collected source recordings for this project themselves ended up resembling a thrift shop: seemingly haphazard but treasure-filled for the patient digger. Collaging them resulted in 40 minutes of junk-drawer memory-shard channel-surfing.” Edition of 60