STOP PRESS: Check the Merchandiser over the next couple of days. PSYCHEDELIC REVOLUTION is due in stock February 6th.

Hey Drudion,

This Year-With-A-Difference is already off to a flying start here in N. Wessex what with Head Heritage’s Collectors’ Shop and Overflow Vinyl Sales (see below reviews for details) plus the impending, any-day-now arrival of my new album PSYCHEDELIC REVOLUTION. Worra Sonic Motherfucker this beast is, kiddies, and a veritable lyrical labyrinth, too. Better still, the artwork deploys several brand new Copean symbols, post-religious chants and anarkick concoctions for good old 2012! Check on our Merchandiser for this new album any time in the next few days; we’ve been promised ‘within the week’. By the way, PSYCHEDELIC REVOLUTION is only the first of four important albums scheduled for release on Head Heritage this revolutionary year.

TIME KEEPS MAKING TIME KEEPS MAKING by Teen Radiation

Over at the Reviews Section, meanwhile, there’s a scorching and a burning coming out of the speakers as TIME KEEPS MAKING TIME KEEPS MAKING by Dutch band Teen Radiation makes its umpteenth heavy rotation over me fluorescent yellow tannoys. Fucking what, children, is this? I’ll tell y’all. It’s the sound of Spillage, mucho sonic spillage and abandoned control. Yeah. Teen Radiation’s overall effect is the most useful microwaving since LAMF’s VU-scorching ‘Neolithic Goddess’, the ensemble’s entire sound resting on the volume of the sonic frying pan the whole shebang is put through. IRRLICHT rising or what, brothers and sisters. And don’t be put off by the seemingly long track listing – these muthas just s‑s-s-smerge each fucker into the last. So checkout these Moederneukers at soundcloud​.com/​s​n​u​g​l​i​f​e​r​e​cords or contact them directly at twitter​.com/​s​n​u​g​l​i​f​e​r​e​cords, but make sure you make a real copy of TIME KEEPS MAKING TIME KEEPS MAKING your very own-ly. It has T H A T zing to it, me babbies, that fucking World Irrigating Zing!

ANYWAY YOUR CHILDREN WILL DENY IT by Father Murphy

How d’you follow that, then? Well luckily, next up is Italy’s fabulously lawless organ-guitar-drums trio Father Murphy, who have – with their colossal new album ANYWAY YOUR CHILDREN WILL DENY IT – delivered a disc of exhilarating vocal harmonies, low church organ themes, and flipped out heathen tantrums all exquisitely staged and performed with that same theatrical drama as early This Heat or JA Caesar. Male voices call, a female voice answers. Great drums salute the far horizon, vast reed organ themes smear themselves across the near horizon, and all as the rigging of some great sailing ship strains in the foreground. Hell, there’s even a coupla truly Black Metal moments, kiddies! Striborg watch yer back! Yup, it’s weird how every track on this new album sounds as though it belongs to some great-lost ritual, as though the three Father Murphy musicians were bringing forth the secrets of some lost hermetic order. Released on Aagoo Records, this is a haunting and superb work that you really must check out. Access these druids at myspace​.com/​r​e​v​e​r​e​n​d​m​urphy, and cop your own copy and pronto, Tonto.

Self-titled by Al Doum & the Faryds

Equally stirring and equally necessary for mental health are those spectacular cave recordings contained within the grooved wares of Al Doum & the Faryds’ self-titled debut LP. Released on the Italian El Guscio Records (elguscio​.it), this fucking righteously Out There declaration comes on like a lobotomized Xhol Caravan meets Shiva’s Tongue meets one of those low low grade reggae recording bands like Ras Michael & the Sons of Negus, all jamming-ah on the 100° Fahrenheit obsidian-strewn plains of Southern Sardinia. Yes, it’s hot. Throughout these proceedings, therefore, mucho Arabian percussion is shaken and kicked, much soul clapping is embarked upon, and several times repeated Middle Eastern flute‘n’sax themes of extreme unmemorability perk up then dwindle with an almightily stoned purposelessness. All quite exquisite. And although arid arid M. Karoli eBow occasionally flames up to provide a vast horizon of cosmick beauty, the Faryds’ main themes always remain so VU-crunchy and agricultural down at their ‘What bottom end?’ that even the off kilter lipping of their sub-sub-Madness/Faust-style sax warbler appears sumptuous by disc’s end. A fuck of a journey, kiddies, you gots to hear these cosmic jokers on repeat in order best to witness the dissolving of your immediate world. You can even buy this on beautifully packaged vinyl with a free download by scooting over to aldoumandthefaryds​.tk, one of the most intuitively Non-Careerist websites I’ve seen in many a long year. A yowzah is in order, what what?

POISONED SOIL by House of Low Culture

Next, I gots to clue y’all in to one massif of a work entitled POISONED SOIL by House of Low Culture from Seattle. Released on Sub Rosa Records (www​.subrosa​.net), this vast and dark meditative piece is the work of former Wolf Eyes maniac Aaron Turner with aid from Mamiffer’s Faith Coloccia, the pair turning in an ever-unfolding monsterpiece of sonic concrète. Unfortunately, I cannot casually suggest meditative interface with this beast as it descends too often into the sub-basement of hooves‘n’horns for some, indeed, the sound of calamity is just as useful to this project as are the choirs. Those with a yen for colossal subterranean inner travel should, however, face no problems as they snorkel the Underworld’s sub-basements armed with Turner’s ample weaponry. He’s an intriguing one is Aaron Turner, and a fucking useful one at that. So do check out aaronbturner​.blogspot​.com and definitely beat a path to your nearest purveyor of House Of Low Culture product.

ONEIRIC RINGS ON GREY VELVET by Philippe Petit

Frenchman Philippe Petit is another intriguing outsider whose inspirational music springs from wells unknown. Indeed, this new album entitled ONEIRIC RINGS ON GREY VELVET dwells in such a delightful and hermetically sealed orchestral world of its own that it’s difficult to make comparisons. Monolithic string sections sent through ring modulators, tuned percussion themes of the Far Eastern variety, halting, grating passages of compelling sub-horror movie twilightness: it’s all grist to Petit’s world-straddling mill. Search out more work by this inspirational Frenchman via philippepetit​.info/aagoo​.com, but do try to acquire your own copy of this mammoth piece.

BOOK OF DELUSIONS by Burial Hex

Finally, make sure you grab your own copy of the extraordinary BOOK OF DELUSIONS LP by Burial Hex (burialhex​.bandcamp​.com). All the work of Jex Thoth producer and former Zodiac Mountain leader Clay Ruby, this work of high ritual first conjures up its own sonic pantheon, nurtures then enslaves them, then conducts them as they writhe. Stupendous. Brothers‘n’sisters, they’ll be including this fucker in the future future mysteries when the earth has returned to Goddess worship. Imagine that Wendy ‘Walter’ Carlos had composed some lost electronic soundtrack to THE WHICKER MAN. Massed vocals, analogue pulses, mucho percussion and mucho grumbling, so all of it mainly acoustically driven stuff. Indeed, should you shoehorn a baby grand into some Mediterranean rockcut tomb and perform this material therein, it’s a synch the natural echoes of those places would replicate these recordings. Released on the Brave Mysteries label, this stealthy little monster pulls off a low budget Carl Orff for the Igjugurjuk Generation, or I ain’t no Inuit Shaman! Mercy me, this is more-ish.

All right, now finally finally, I’d also just like to point out that much of the vinyl that will appear on our Collectors’ Shop in the coming weeks will be coming directly from my personal record library. It’s 2012, brothers‘n’sisters, and I have every intention of disposing of as much of our archives as I can – even personal effects and instruments – so that my family and I can travel more extensively and live unencumbered in these coming years. Forty years of vinyl? I gotta divest myself of some of these classics. So do look out for all that’s weird and wonderful: I can assure you it’s gonna be there with knobs on!

Love on y’all,

JULIAN (Lord Yatesbury)