Bollock Swine (Wallop Cervix)/Kylie Minoise (Colossal Asteroid Hazard) split tape:

unrealistic survival prospects.

Blob Blab

Bollock Swine – WALLOP CERVIX:

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?

Deluxe odd-ball, fashion failure “Neko-Neko Noyzcore” User-Hostile Blast-Blur-Gunk sensation Bollock Swine, a cross-continent Korean & Japanese marathon blast, peak-noise-shred screamcore nonsense Anti-Listener exclamation avant ejection are once again here to upend & ill-define like nothing else past, present or parallel.

Brine Swillerz Custom Made

Wallop Cervix absconds with five torn-off, hyper-kinetic, howling hysteria, rash, barely controlled, run-away, frenzied caterwauling noise-blur squall, hopped-up on premium noisegrind steroids & military issue muscle-growth martial monastery isolation training. Boasting some of the fastest, hardest & most remorseless & inexhaustible mega-blastbeat shock-offensive, like, spastic, spuming, spraying, sprinting, spiralling spasm jarring with fantastical noise-guitar contra-caco rend bilge drenched in overly-emotive, panic attack, convulsive nervous collapse scream-scrum – all addled, assailed, assundered by a kawai-cornocopia of undermined, modified & contorted samples & sound source (extremely esoteric junk jargon & impenetrable oddity ornamentalism) …. what about he Abnorm/Improb & Avant-Lard angle??? can we even do them justice when they soak the polychrome with such luridity & choking overspillage???? who the fuck are these people???

Quad Fat Vertigo

the freak is so thick here you will suffocate under it & eutrophy.

All five tracks here are heaved & hewn from the exponentially expulsive Osaka sessions that were dispensed & discharged last year as a first meeting live-recording disembogue at the Milk Shake emporium overlooking Chernobyl.

Words are like waste …. The God’s Bollox.

stack y’ caskets … and file for entorse 臺南市

Gush Gyna – Junk Gyre – Geto Garbage, a three-track “Mong Mongi” extract split cassette with energetic heavyweight 886VG is out next month on Lo-fi or Die, & BS just stocked up their radon reserves with another “melt down” live recording session wi’ hunk harsh.

Kylie Minoise (excerpt)


Thought this fucker was dead? Guess not?

This guy has different moods/modes/manoeuvres … raw, paranoid, shouty, bodily vigorous public breakdown episodes – unpredictable, art-vandal, psychedelic veering, sample blemished, discarded counter-cultural dump & classic conspiracy scrape – trashed, harsh & cutting, lo-fi, garbage gallop (like rolling bare-back in caustic residue, oxidized tacks & bruck glass on a cement factory floor) – Glitch, 8-bit distortion, clagged synths & abraded & jostling disintegrated Dance dishevelment through cobbled analogue assort & muddled mechanics.

And he’ll stray further. And combine them all in different measurements through alternative lenses.

On this release, KM are going deep space gashing junk static storm flying debris acid contusion cross over …. chaos! chaos! chaos! a fucking rust hulk crashing into an armoured asteroid-clearing-star-trawler freighting volatile special weapons contraband & live reactor fuel on the maw of a black hole during a meteor downpour during a crew mutiny. A multi-purpose mess of harsh bedlam, belabour blowback & chaotic malfunction & cosmological accident & emergency breakdown, breakup, breakaway, breakout.

Kylie Minoise

The bastards at Jigokuki reaffirm their radical reputation for standout, eye-popping quality & originality in their art & design, spewing this blat on a crisp see-through-green shell with mismatching neon-spray-paint stencils, modified, out-of-context Russ Myer stills & fold-out micro-poster, all stuffed & stained with gorgeous, finicky & hyper-curious hand-drawn art & photography printed with specialist litho-printers to put you in pelvic arrest ….. limited to x418 hand-numbered editions & available only via storm-drain channels & certainly no fuckin’ Bandcamp cocksucker fuckin’ Spottify shit-chewer, bastard streaming Amazon fuck-chops ho-ass mothufukku gimp grovel Apple anus convenience kowtow!!

in the deli … i found these tapes in the offal isle

Here, & now, is a kind of review, or ultra-anfractuous, highbrow long-grass wax-warble from the dawn-crawler himself …. – GBR – the Buckfast for breakfast sunday papers siesta merchant Russophile, AKA – Thérèse Coffey beaten to death with unsold root vegetable surplus by undocumented EU field labourers & dumped in a ditch at Dover.


I don’t combat the mainstream existentially as if it has no right to be; but merely combat it as the ultimate profile, because yes, it does have a place… to be digestible and to be challenged when it doesn’t rage hard enough, its role to set a substandard and to be a safe-space and sometimes to display a little Rogue shift in opinion, but it should always be put in its place in the minds of the discerning… this also makes elbow room for things more genuinely intriguing, challenging and affirming.
This Bollock Swine release is like a sonic recreation of a Videodrome snuff zone furtively witnessed by James Woods whilst consuming the kind of cereal shovelled in the endorphin furnace of my younger self watching Saturday morning cartoons in the 80’s, it’s mental, challenging, at times irritating but really fun; which is sometimes needed to over-ride the wanton nihilism of alot of contemporary noise and noise adjacent music. It plays out as a modernist Harry Pussy cat-fighting with the scrappier end of Zorn’s scene tourism in Naked City (safari is too adventurous a word for the enfant terrible coat-tail jet-skier) laden with freejazz percussive sprints, and raspy grindy fretplay, grunts, shrieks, all very unpredictable-a compelling compound to capture interest, this is the real deal: abrasive, disciplined yet chaotic chamber music for the societal decline of cultures in crisis, and it keeps me coming back.

Onwards to the Kylie Minoise side which I have to preface with an aside: Noise… a scene my older self is a little at odds with, the freeform nature and subsequent open interpretation can seem a little bourgeois to me sometimes, I find myself often still expectant for or disappointed at lack of SOME form of structure or facilitated impact at certain times; a “drop”; bass emphasis or shrill noise at an appropriate break or ascent, further to that the unsavoury that steeps the scene is tangibly unsettling, much like black metal, fuck, even grindcore; its like we forget what the fight is sometimes, what we rage for, it becomes the ejaculate for antagonism not the “cry of the blues” as Coltrane would try and capture in some of his pieces; societal or existential discontent calculated through catharsis and manifestation-the self-perpetuation of reason and energy: a positive from a negative. So as carbon-based scenes mill out those steady repetitive sounds and concepts like a biscuit factory to crumble under the ivory rule of your average consumer seeking more of the same but different or different but same, we await sentinels and stalwarts, brigands and beacons to cast light on and assault the fucking shadows of shadows of what has gone before, increasingly insubstantial, subsequently sub-standard… and these guerrillas are out there… Kylie Minoise brings substantiated sonic activity to blow out the drums, with enough interesting diversity of noises and tone bubbling beneath the slew of grime to scratch at the door of the discerning listener, releases like this have me “getting” Noise again, it puts me in that meditative space of actually listening to it as a piece of soundscaping or indeed ‘music’ to give it the time interesting audio/conceptual (contextual, countertextual…etc … whatever…) challenges deserve. There are a couple of times where a pedalled effect might take me out of the moment or doesn’t sit entirely right with me but that is then matched by a time when a little surprise device will hit the spot, and just when fatigue starts to creep up, a shift in composition will lay bare new directions to sit with on a brash head-first descent into farside orchestration of collapsing-factory-like sound waves, its stuff like this that sparks that furious and antagonistic creativity that brings its own reason and vigour. A cry of the slew.