New Year Drudion

January 2014ce

As the Archdrude is quitting Yatesbury, certain upcoming Drudions will showcase domestic artworks such as this John Donne door before they are overpainted.

Happy New Year Motherfuckers,

What did Sanity bring you for X-Mass? Yeah, me three. Did you get ‘generosity in this darkest of seasons’ as I’d hoped for in that final Drudion of 2013? Me neither. Not quite, anyway. But, then again, my daughter Avalon had – even as a young child – always suspected that no caring anti-Capitalist father in his right Archdrudical mind would let some fat jolly reindeer drover into his house unchaperoned, especially with all of that seasonal liquor so easily to hand! Still, whilst Twelfth Night beckons for most of you, here at Lord Yatesbury’s Seat we have those X-Mass lights raving away 365 days a year. True!

HARM by The Telescopes

Okay, remaining in the generosity mode for the time being at least, let’s commence this 2014CE Reviews Section with the stupendous sounds of HARM by American W. Coast sextet The Telescopes, whose wonderfully formless and epic sound is so much like early Acid Mothers Temple that they probably coulda claimed the opening track as a cover of ‘Blue Velvet Blues’ from the Japanese commune band’s 1998 PATAPHYSICAL FREAK OUT MU. Cotton Casino’s brilliant space whisper is herein recreated (and played to perfection) by one Stephen Lawrie (wonder if he too chainsmokes throughout their performances?), while the other five musicians dawdle with such aimless suspended-in-space magnificence that listeners soon forget their humanity and start aping the wallpaper, although ‘aping’ should probably be replaced with a verb such as ‘amoebing’. The second track ‘Torn’ is another suitably dissolving 20-minute Zen feedbacker in which our heroes attempt to sail the Ancient Egyptians’ Boat of Millions of Years into a harbour at least 40 miles wide yet still end up navigating on to the rocks. Give these fuckers a wide berth or what? Mercy! Replete with fine artwork by Vibracathedral Orchestra’s wonderfuel Bridget Hayden, HARM is a two-headed-dog worth uncaging right here in your living room and should be accessed via:


Next up, make sure you lend an ear to the intriguing and highly useful meditations of INSUBORDINATION by Australian violinist Adam Cadell, whose single 32-minute title piece forces listeners down down down into the prone position then keeps them under until music’s end. Solo violin meditations, motherfuckers? Oh yes. But think not of Taj Mahal Travellers’ Takehisa Kosugi’s dreadfully out-of-character bounce-a-thon 1980 NYC, no dear me no. Anticipate instead the rural joys of Henry Flynt’s bucolic hoedown-a-thons but enlarged into La Monte Young levels of monotony, or imagine even an unaccompanied Tony Conrad embarking on a Faustless OUTSIDE THE DREAM SYNDICATE. For this single meditation remains at all times on course, even when Mr Cadell’s instrument takes on a curious French horn timbre. Although many Head Heritage freaks will already dig this man’s work from his acclaimed duo The Scrapes, none will be disappointed by a quick journey over to Clad in a righteous cover that depicts indie ladies wielding machine guns, this beautiful work is one to repeat again and again and again.

THE BESTIAL FLOOR by Jonny Halifax & The Howling Truth

Uh, meanwhile back in the (urban) jungle, something very untoward this way comes. Yup, it’s the finished album from Jonny Halifax & The Howling Truth, and its slitherin’ electro-programmed slide-guitar driven Mung Worship sounds like the Bayou by way of Vladivostock. What do I mean, motherfuckers? Well remember when Stalin impounded two B-29 Superfortress bombers then had his fave aircraft engineer Andrei Tupolev copy those suckers? The result was the Tu-4, and they scared the West shitless. Luckily, being Soviet engineered, those aero-locos weighed so much more than the real thing that they couldn’t even reach US airspace. Welcome then to THE BESTIAL FLOOR by Jonny Halifax & The Howling Truth, fifty plus minutes of Soviet engineered programmed swamp rock straight out of Uncle Joe’s machine shops. A few months back, I reviewed the cassette demo of this sucker and dug it immensely. Now, it has returned fully formed and released on the Greasy Noise label. Tomorrow it is ready to be set free in French Indo China with General MacArthur at the reigns. Vicious as Shockabilly, freewheeling as the Avatars of the Bad Man, DeTwat metallic as Capt Beefheart’s glorious BLUE COLLAR theme ‘Hard Workin’ Fucked Over Man’ AND from London… allegedly. You wanted a Cadillac? They sent you this outsize Plymouth, babies. You wanted a V8 automatic? They gave you three gears from a John Deere tractor. Fuck ja!

ALWAYS EVEN by Carlton Melton

Back down in the mystic, ladies’n’gentlemen, we gots a new Carlton Melton LP for your delectation. Entitled ALWAYS EVEN, these righteous Yankee upholders of Amon Düülian wa-everythingness, these rugged practitioners of soaring John Weinzerlian axe wielding, have yet again sprung forth with a veritable Teutonic forest of verdant delights. I’ve probably noted umpteen times how often American post-Krautrock outfits get ruined by their arena drummers and sensible recording engineers, but Carlton Melton’s Messrs Millman, Duvall and Golden always keep those technocrats well in check, whilst their taking it in turns on the drum stool ensures that no fucking paradiddles get loose amidst the guitar amps. Indeed, Mr Duvall’s performance on the immaculately titled ‘Sarsen’ sallies forth with all the monomaniacal gusto of a Jaki Leibezeit, Klaus Dinger or even my old mucker Rooster Cosby. Bra-fucking-vo! Yes, these gents bleed you from the jugular wherever possible, but they can’t half be subtle when ya least expects it! Released on Agitated Records in translucent green vinyl inside a sumptuous gatefold sleeve, ALWAYS EVEN is a delight and should be accessed via the band’s own, or directly from

ISLAND RECORDS by Ernest Gibson

Finally, give yourself up to ISLAND RECORDS, the glorious debut LP from Denmark’s Ernest Gibson, whose compelling instrumental music offers thirteen snatches of crunching ambient tunnels of sound all of which could – to this writer’s mind anyway – have been extended in length twentyfold. Ah, but there’s the rub. For, like Asmus Tietchens’ brilliant BIOTOP and SPAT-EUROPA, Gibson’s genius herein is his determination not to outstay his welcome. Sounding at times like side two of J. Div’s CLOSER as performed by the first 13th Floor Elevators line-up, ISLAND RECORDS defies analysis and just forces you to repeat and repeat this sucker endlessly. Buy the handsome vinyl version, babies, and get a free download in the process from Released on Denmark’s Skrot Up record label, this music appears so effortless and so beautiful that we just have to hope there’s plenny more in the brain banks whence it sprung. Here’s hoping!

Finally finally, the latest news from early readers of my novel ONE THREE ONE have garnered comparisons with Danté, Ovid and Michael Moorcock. Yowzah! Of course, being brand new to this fiction lark, I can only hope such blubberings are justified. But I do believe there’s never been anything quite like it writ before here in the West. And I’ll be doing my damnedest in the upcoming months to make sure everybody hears about it.

Happy New Year, you wonderful fucking bastards!

Love Reigns Over All,

JULIAN (Lord Yatesbury In Exile)