Basement Tapes

(Chocolate Monk - choc.428) CDR $8.00 (Out-of-stock)

Using Toby Lloyd’s art project Between Eating And Sleeping as a starting point, Yol (bottled rust), Joe Murray (tape gasbag), and Mr. Lloyd himself (energy positive) tear new holes in the Dictaphone / metallic junk / throat-war scene. Recorded live at Bradford’s Fuse and Basement Arts Project in Leeds, three heads nod in total concrete hardcore improv mode. Switches are slipped as eyes roll back in heads. Numbered edition of 60


International Dictaphone Relations

(Chocolate Monk - CHOC.364) split CDR $8.00 (Out-of-stock)

Two directions in contemporary Dictaphonix. Loops of slimy chaos from Argentina’s steaming tape underground, created in the same way birds swim and bees honk. Tight and vital, in-your-head meditations and reflections evoke heavy psych smoke and wild, wild painted eyes staring through the bushes. The essential tape control makes the listening passage easy, like swallowing soft lead pellets. Meanwhile that British lag serves a gentle riot of slow faze, cut-up speech patterns, and tape jaxx along with some seriously grievous organ wonk. Deceptively strong wrists whip an undertow of “cuh-vimp-curr...,” poking once again into the psychedelic domestic for inspiration. Numbered edition of 60


My Hungry Holes

(Chocolate Monk - CHOC262) CDR $9.00 (Out-of-stock)

Intricate tales woven in lurid tape, recounted in swatches of multi-sonic flaws, a deeply resonant harmoniousness which answers the surfaces of second nature while guzzling minerals in the first. Melodic ornamentation squirreled into unforgiven cassettes, tonguing spatial magnetics, ribbony skirmish.


Obedience To Authority

(Chocolate Monk - choc.452) CDR $8.00 (Out-of-stock)

Huffed synth bubbles float over soapy tape? Language-collapse injected inside a plump proto-punk donut like so much unsavory butter? It’s them California goofballs Barbara Manning and S. Glass holding claws across the ocean with the bristly Joe Murray. Whatever the dance steps, this is one scatty reel; arms and legs flying, with the good whisky getting spilled all over the parquet floor. If you have a fancy, lie low in your scratcher and drink it all in. Yes, freak, gobble it down, this rich clotted draft. Leave sense at the door and wipe a flannel across your knotted brow. Layering (filo-like) ouch sounds becomes a universal “um.” It’s pure and simple. It’s dream weapon ammunition. Edition of 60



(I Dischi Del Barone - IDDB011) 7-inch $10.00

Newcastle-based improvisor Joe Murray’s mix of vocal-jaxx loops, dry breath and child chatter. Relentless squelching from a wet mouth that’s been physically spliced into cranky tape. An exploration of sharp pencil tap and wickedly pinched spools. Edition of 200. TEDIUM HOUSE BEST OF 2016


The Golden Handshake That Almost Broke My Wrist

(Regional Bears - 11) Cassette $9.00

Reliable madness from Joe Murray, dictaphone and otherwise, meaning: tapes, mouth sounds, text-to-speech machines, bells, and wine glasses. Guest contributors include Otto Willberg, id m theft able, and OD Gee.


Ultra Fluff

(Chocolate Monk - choc.477) CDR $7.00 (Out-of-stock)

In the late summer of 2019, Graeme Hopper and Joe Murray met up on Saturday afternoons to jam. After a few sessions, a pattern emerged. Chlorine’s deconstructed percussion / electronics set up and Posset’s Dictaphones, megaphone, and vocal jaxx started in a hectic, everything-playing-at-once ecstasy, an overload of sensory information with the emphasis on texture and rhythm. After some time, busy layers sloped off, colors became clearer, and the vigorous back-and-forth of frantic improvisation settled into a steady psychic pulse. These raw jams were further messed with, looped, sliced and taped back together. Expect lightning-quick “v- vas-h” and elongated “whumm.” Climb inside a seashell to appreciate the tight, creamy crenulations. Feel the air get sucked out the room by the electric pressure blowing out your speakers. This marriage of real live-room jam and abstracted studio-sweat is not unique. But the light hand on the tiller and hurling the moral compass into the frothing waves just might be. Edition of 60