Live at Bar Isshee
(Chocolate Monk) CDR $7.00 (Out-of-stock)
COMING SOON. In these times of tit-imposed tariffs, Uncle Shonky and Little Big Man step up with an ear tax that is guaranteed to leave the more sensitive listener bow brained. This tête à tête of shop-bought and home-brewed electronics might have given ol’ Dave Tudor cavities but you respiring dweebs can wallow in the electrode slurp, drill, pitter and crunkle while feeling all the more peepy for it. Almost 80 minutes blissfully free of the curse of music. Cover art by Bill “The Face” Nace. Edition of 60
More Joy
(Siltbreeze) LP $20.00
Singalongs, sob-alones, and tra-la-las by the Oamaru band that matters.Twenty-two tracks of devastating South Island pop crunch roaring off the grooves.
K/S/R / Nihilist Spasm Band
(Gilgongo) split LP $25.00
This intergenerational, wide-minded split LP blurs the hedges of national borders and the traditions of composition, marking a niche interzone inhabited solely by the uncles of punk and their experimental stepchildren. Canadian noise pioneers Nihilist Spasm Band deliver a ripping side-long opus rife with their singular blend of hi-octane kazoo, invented instruments and propulsive, arrhythmic drumming. This deep cut is likely to be the final NSB recording released featuring the late great vocalist Bill Exley, who passed away in 2025 after performing as a Nihilist for exactly 60 years. On the flipside, K/S/R screw the tempo down to their patented desert crawl pulse and lock the door behind them. Departing from the interstellar density of the trio’s Already in Heaven, the side-long treatise of An American Sonnet brandishes the group’s minimalist approach heard during recent performances across the United States. A plein air structure of ascetic interplay locates K/S/R carving terrain from the space between notes, where each gesture is ascertained both as an individual voice and a building block of the collective. 180-gram mixed color vinyl, edition of 245.
Rippelpics & Rippelsounds
(Chocolate Monk) Magazine + CDR $13.50 (Out-of-stock)
COMING SOON. Up at dawn, sweating like a dog, all senses afire, Dan Melchior wails into the void and uses his best crayons to make you some pix. The struggle is real, disappointment is not an option. Enter the puce room of his illusions at your own leisure. Edition of 50
Forever 12
(Chocolate Monk) Cassette $8.00 (Out-of-stock)
COMING SOON. Brian Ruryk, the harmless guitar bully, whose bark is worse than his bite. Andrew No C Zukerman, the sound effect collector, audio pathfinder, maker of fine quilts (also known as Fleshtone Aura). When attempting to conjure the entity that is Cuddles, perhaps think big, loopy Baby Huey type cartoon character, or perhaps the sound of a male voice being sloooooowwwwwwed waaaaaaaayyyy the fuck doooooowwwnn. Each artists’ trademarks survive: broad moves; botched clots; supra precision; magic kingdom; asterisks; ellipses. Yes, it’s all here, my friends! Edition of 50
At the Buttock End
(Chocolate Monk) CDR $7.00 (Out-of-stock)
COMING SOON. Hi, me again, no reception. Soft estrangement, isn’t it. White-chested laughing thrush? Somewhere between the Donisthorpe Colliery winding wheel, some chalk banks and Maghera beach’s open lagoon and delayed cliff echoes. Strung out, desperately cupping. Alfred got caught at the buttock end, RIP. Well, anyway. I’ll be thick for you here so you can go along now smarting, right? I’d say raise your head a bit and get breath in the pipes, maybe clout the keeper. And the field crisps up, mind you. Fol de rol, tora lie day. Edition of 50
KAREN CONSTANCE / DYLAN NYOUKIS
Voice of an Ankle
(Chocolate Monk) CDR + cloth tote bag $24.00
Given the hard choke placed on new encyclicals pulsing out of roof-top loudspeakers throughout the Upper Ditchling region, we could all be forgiven a moment of diaper-moistening hysteria when the Constance-Nyoukii get publicly audible. It's a legit occasion. Your cool will successfully maintain if you have an intern standing by with a freshly laundered nappie. The tape-manipulated mouth yarbles of the title track target the voltage-sensitive calcium pods that line your pleasure node. Yoink, rrreeent, fwip, gah, n-n-nooop — it’s a full-service spa day for you and whoever sponges your shame. On the flip is “The Well Designed Goat With Blubber Underneath,” a murkier and more segmented creepy-crawl than twilight centipedes the size of Neil Diamond gargling soft-boiled eggs. Even doctrinaire loyalists within the Federation of Lumpy Rutherfords must at some point take time away from the liner notes of the latest Anthology of Elevator Interiors to have their very finite oatmeal seasoned with something a bit more container-averse, and this be the vista-encompassing electro-acoustic musique concrète du jour what could bring ’em back. For you, it’s just another Thursday. Tidy the welcome mat, set out your finest crudités, and you are good to go. C26. The tote bag is 14" x 15.7", black ink on olive, 170g weave, earth positive, 50% recycled cotton and 50% organic cotton. Edition of 50
BUFFALOMCKEE / SATORU SEKIGUCHI
Prepare for Afternoon Uropods
(Chocolate Monk) CDR $7.00
“A washing machine full of pink Jell-O and a metal bird in a wire cage drops ball bearings into a silver cup of clam chowder,” says Rick Potts. “Now submerged and the dolphins are not friendly. Taken prisoner and led to their plastic grotto. The escape hatch jets hurling into the wild blue. Dinner at the girlfriends & Camera Dad drops nuts. Jamming in an endless toilet stall where Fahey plucks off high mid-ringers. At a toy Disco party in space then tin fingers join in and a lunar wind chime falls over onto a crystal harpsichord while the bass vacuum cleaner ejects hot air. Hallways leading away from the empty swimming pool where otters roll on a glockenspiel, napping. Head hit and blacking out with sparkle vision as the sides close in. Memories of taking an evening walk and a drunken synth band echoes between buildings. Sound waves doubling and colliding into themselves. The drug kicks in and it’s off and running in a 70s cop show. A muscle car brodies around the corner liquor store. A Malayan tapir sax hose is spraying over kitchen canisters and garbage disposal ants are sanitizing with ultrasonic guns into drainage pipes to the storm drains full of broken bicycle parts. The telephone may be broken but clearly no one is answering. A swallowed mic played through a wheelbarrow speaker as hinges sing in rusty unison while a doorknob is bowed. Distant car horns. In the undercarriage of a bumpy rumble seat hardware is jingling as it slowly comes undone into a muddy patch and the exhaust pipe is full of gelatinous grease. Not sure we’ll make it but I see a break in the clouds. Nope, we’re stuck. Racket balls hit against the wall of a Data Centre full of copper carpenter bats. Drones try to intercept but it’s futile. Squadrons emerging but the bats and drones intersect like a M. C. Escher print. Monkeywrenchs do their work and the steam hisses out and it all deflates into the rubble. Police and news crew helicopters arrive and illuminate the scene. Rubber clogs are on a marimba putting out the trash bins while trying to start the incinerator with a flint and a pocket watch. The tennis shoes tumble in the dryer. Not a good smell. Drinking out of a twisted bong. Damn, it spilled… again. Clocks erupting springs and gears and circuit board flotsam in a factory of suction cup machines while Mr. Hulot roboticly dances and containers overflow. The relentless error indicator alarm is ignored.” Edition of 50
Occultations
(Chocolate Monk) 2xCDR $11.00
The unlikely combo of amp, synth and lyre allow Peter Blamey, Anthony Guerra and Moss Hopkins to push themselves further out, way the hell out there, sonically and psychically. The players dig deep into their own processes and materials, drifting and shattering their way into a group sound experience that is equally open and intense, like sleepwalking on ice. Edition of 50
Non-Disclosure Agreement
(Tailnia) Cassette $12.00 (Out-of-stock)
COMING SOON. The traveling in time and space of noises, words, and sound of indeterminate origin seems to be an on-going concern of S. Glass. They jump, flicker, rebound, ooze, and disintegrate across and around the audio field like bits of overheard gossip. Pacing, texture, and point-of-view are all over the place, and yet the two 20-minute tracks, plus the second in a series of short Fluxus actions, are assembled with peculiar deliberateness. Non-Disclosure Agreement might be insane but it’s not irrational. c40
Conditional Bunker
(Siltbreeze) LP $20.00
You’ll find the core members of this Bay Area ensemble in other fine bands (such as Famous Mammals, Naked Roommate, Preening — tail-waggers all), but bunched together here, they spray a hybrid snork like few others. This their second album is an even more demanding dinger than Desire Choir (Post Present Medium, 2022), itself an infectious hopper of left field dub and et cetera. NPT’s song catalog reflects a wide range of structures: yarp familia via the Canterbury cabal, reverberating chansons à la Family Fodder, hints of Frank Chickens’ enka scramble, Laughing Clowns’ horn-swoggle, and all that is worth noting from an appreciation of the On-U Sound and Y Records imprints. It’s a platter of unctuous sonority, deserving enough Michelin stars to fill a galaxy. Or in the parlance of your mom, “Fuck art, let’s dance.” Includes poster size insert. Edition of 250.