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Search Result for Label FEEDING TUBE RECORDS
viewing 1 To 10 of 21 items
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FTR 099LP
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In the spring of 2011, Michael "Powderfinger" Morley was in the U.S. for a short visit. There had been some talk of doing a Gate show or two, but when he visited Western Mass., Feeding Tube Records decided to put use to his collaborative talents. He played one night at the Yod space in Florence with Kim Gordon and Bill Nace, then at Feeding Tube with Spencer Yeh and Meg Clixby. Both sets provided jumbo pleasure, and Michael managed to record the Yod set for our presentation to you. Kim and Bill were at the beginning of their duo explorations at this point. Can't even remember if they'd started using the Body/Head name yet. Regardless, the instrumental sluice -- with occasional spirit-vocals by Kim -- is similar yet quite different from the duo tactics they've since evolved. Morley's presence gives the proceedings a bit of a grungy psychedelic smear, whereas their other recordings (at least as of now) have a rather more ethereal arc. The set occurred in front of a slowed-down screening of Catherine Breillat's gorgeous 1976 film Une Vraie Jeune Fille. Feeding Tube thinks you'll agree that the music here matches the sexy surrealist power of that film frame-for-frame, or your money back. The cover, by the way, is a beautiful silkscreen designed by Morley and based on an outtake from Susan Harris' NBC program, The Golden Girls. The image was based on Bea Arthur and Betty White's characters from a season five episode entitled "Break-In." The album title is a phonetic spelling of what Ms. Arthur's character keeps chanting while attending a Madonna concert. Now you know.
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FTR 090LP
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New music from Paul Flaherty, with Sam Gas Can and White Limo. Pressing of 500 copies, cover art by Joshua Burkett. Like all of the greatest live "festival" records -- Woodstock II (Cotillion '71), Mar y Sol (Atco '72) & 1968 Memphis Country Blues Festival (Blue Horizon '69) -- Mystery Triangle is an especially exceptional souvenir for those people who were there when it happened. But unlike dud compilations, Mystery Triangle provides a truly fine sonic gush for even those of us who were too confused (or scared) to "make" the actual "scene." In November 2011, a goddamn magnificent display of talent went down at Joshua Burkett's Mystery Train store in Amherst, MA. And thankfully, Edward "Ted" Lee, the whirling dervish of Feeding Tube, was there to capture the sounds on tape. First up is Paul Flaherty -- the godfather of all that is good and weird in New England. Paul has been woefully under-documented in solo performance. His maniacal sax work is well represented in duo and group settings, but he has always been a bit shy about pure solo work-outs, and he shouldn't be. The beauty of his turn here is stunning. Relying less on the freak-gush that marks his ensemble work, Flaherty creates a pure, blazing line of melodic invention that is a testament to both the power of his lungs and the creativity of his process. Stoned and flowing, his side rips gently into the air with a series of compositional statements that are gorgeous, fully-imagined and a testament to the brilliance of no-net-improvising. Without other players gumming up his works, Paul moves through moods and thoughts with ferocious surety, creating one of the finest recordings in his catalog. Truly a wowser of a set. Sam Gas Can sometimes relies on conceptual theories for his sets, but here is an engine of pure glossalic genius. Working in the tradition of the great sound-poets, Sam offers a bravura performance that stretches itself deep into the Schwitters zone, conjuring up subconscious connections to memories locked far beneath our surfaces. As the great Dredd Foole noted after the set, "No one uses their voice any more." An amazing thing. Finally, White Limo (Chris Cooper, Jess Goddard and Joshua Vrysen), hit the road with a set of cracked electronics halfway between serious aleatory ensembles like Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza and proletarian ass-crack noisers such as Id M Theft Able. Although they don't seem to play often, this trio (with deep roots throughout of the odd-noise underground) has cracked the code that has daunted many other combos with similar intent, making sounds that manage to be both deeply resonant and weirdly engaging. Totally boss. This is a fully satisfying festival record. Every performer, every note feels essential. One of the best. No shit. Includes mp3 download.
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FTR 092LP
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And the blonde, as they say, shall lead the blind. Recorded at a variety of gigs during a tour of Europe in the spring of 2012, Caught On Tape documents an autodidact improv summit nearly without peer. Thurston Moore, the self-taught Connecticut guitarist for the Coachmen, Male Slut, Dapper, Wylde Ratttz, Dim Stars, Northampton Wools, Bark Haze, Pillow Wand, Diskaholics Anonymous, Society's Ills, The Dream Aktion Unit and several other combos, is in full unhinged blaze-mode here. His companion, notable son of the chowder mills, John Moloney (Sunburned, Shit Spangled Banner, Egg Eggs, etc.), rifles through his drum kit frantically, as though he was trying to destroy a rainbow with hammers. The blend is totally berserk. While neither of these gentlemen has dick in the way of formal musical training, they are both capable of producing stun-level blasts of pure-zonar energy, and the music on this LP is at times as tightly focused as Bill Clinton's most powerful penis rays. Full of murky surface moves, with a lot of fully weird subtext, Caught On Tape is a brilliant testament to the transformative power of the pure head-gush. Like a crude stone pyramid, teetering on the edge of an Anasazi cliff, this music is always on the verge of crushing your entire body like a grape. But in a good way. A very good way. The original tour edition of 113 copies sold out as fast as Kate Moss' last batch of used panties. Here's a chance to get a trade copy, with a lovely Raymond Pettibon cover. The future is yours for the asking. Just don't delay.
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FTR 095LP
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Debut LP session by a young Boston-based quintet who hit with all the Dionysian power of a young Harry Pussy, squared and electronified. Kassie Carlson's vocals have all the upper register urgency once manifested by the great Adris Hoyos, and her bandmates manage to create large stugs of post-punk angularity, overlaid with truly dithersome electronics. The result is one of the first transcendent post-no-wave records of our era. Live, Guerilla Toss create an amazing and beautiful disruption of all known truth-fields. They function at a level of pure discordian creation so pure, it is guaranteed to melt all but the stoniest witnesses to its blazing infirmity. But the album, Jeffery Johnson (named after the most elusive member of Jack Black's legendary Johnson Family, as well as the author of the record's cover art), manages to work beautifully as a collection of songs, rusty and scrappy, but songs nonetheless. Guitars weevle off into the atmosphere, key chords emerge like one of Adele Bertei's lost tampons, drums cuss sullenly -- it's an amazing mess of sound-bed for our heroine to caper upon. Get yours now or pine for it later. Your choice.
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FTR 081LP
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Vinyl actualization of a Gary Wilson album originally released on CD in 2008. The second of Feeding Tube's Wilson retrievals (following 2011's Forgotten Lovers, FTR 065LP), the label considers this the most solid of Gary's post-revival albums. While it goes in a slightly different musical direction than the deranged porn-lounge inventions of You Think You Really Know Me (the classic '77 LP, heisted in toto by Beck during his Odelay phase), the naif-ache of the lyrics and the music's laid-back bowling-alley-funk-thrust reveal unending vistas of pure pleasure. Wilson's vision and performance approach are absolutely personal and shockingly naked. Like other true outsider artists (from the Shaggs to Daniel Johnston), it's possible to sometimes wonder what the hell Gary is up to, but the raw sincerity of his yearning is never at doubt. As with all his best work, Lisa Wants to Talk to You is about women. How they walk, how they sound, how they smell, how they can break your goddamn heart. A fellow and/or a gal could learn a lot by dancing quietly alone in the dark to this record. Saved from the digital graveyard by your friends at Feeding Tube, it's time to prepare yourself for another small miracle. So do it. Limited edition of 500, with a dazzling cover by Ted Lee. Includes mp3 download code.
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FTR 086LP
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Vinylization of a classic 2008 Yeay! Cassettes release, which has cast an odd thrall over Western Massachusetts heads since it was first issued. Vapor Gourds is the solo project of Western Mass DJ, sound guy and man-about-town, Jake Meginksy, who is perhaps best known for his work in X.O.4 with Bill Nace and Johnny T. For this project, Jake has opted for a bizarre pile of machine sounds, none of them overly grating, with all sorts of near-subliminal pulse work raging around inside of 'em. Very hard to put a finger on exactly what's going down here. As soon as you decide to categorically shorthand the sound, Dagger Magic skitters off to another corner of the room. Parts recall everything from Sky Records synth-gush to cough-syrup dub-beats to Voice Crack-style electro-derangement. And there's plenty of stuff that defies any kind of simple language at all. Dagger Magic is a quiet masterpiece of form destruction. The more you listen, the more there is to hear, and the dagger slips ever deeper. Let it slide, baby. Edition of 300. Eye-catching cover by Bill Nace.
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FTR 088LP
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M2 is an East Coast-based duo comprised of two of the legendary Miller brothers, namely Roger and Ben. They have previously appeared together in such bizarrely protean ensembles as Sproto Layer and Destroy All Monsters, but they are probably best known for their work in autonomous formulations. Ben, most recently with the Glenn Branca Ensemble, Roger with Mission Of Burma (and all who sail with them). The music on M2's debut LP, however, is far from any of the rock-related moves with which they've associated in the past. Both have serious bonafides in experimental/improvised sound, of course, but these take a new leap with At Land's Edge. Roger is playing heavily prepared piano -- something he has been obsessed with for many years. And Ben is handling an electric guitar with more modifications than anyone can easily count. The eight pieces they have created for At Land's Edge are entirely improvisational, but their sophistication and organization belies their purely aleatory roots. Indeed, the textures they create for their music buggers the very notion of piano/guitar interplay, substituting a shifting array of percussive and electronic field signals that recalls the smaller-format work of Italian improvisational units such as MEV and Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza. An LP of pure wonder, At Land's Edge represents a beautiful challenge for adventurous listeners. Exquisitely recorded by guitarist Michael Bierylo, the album is a monster of form confusion, and we can't wait to catch the duo on tour. Dig it. Edition of 300.
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FTR 051LP
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Brattleboro, Vermont's Sarah Smith and Zach Phillips have dropped another absolute bomb. The music here is so good, Feeding Tube Records couldn't resist releasing it on vinyl, even though their Our Place LP was already in production. Exquisite songcraft, cunningly rhythmic arrangements and Sarah's lilting vocals give the songs here a deceiving lightness, almost like a 21st century Gilberto/Jobim collaboration. The more you play it, the deeper it will cut. A perfect record for summer, with an engraved B-side, courtesy of the youngest members of Team Feeding Tube: Addie C. and Coco M. Also available as half of a cassette split with Bruce Hart on Blanche Blanche Blanche's home-label OSR Tapes. No EQ. Bass by Danny Bissette. Edition of 200.
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FTR 070LP
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No effects, EQ or noise reduction were used in the making of this album, the fifth by this fantastic Brattleboro duo. Sarah Smith and Zach Phillips (aka Bruce Hart, Jordan Piper Philips, Nals Goring, etc.) assemble mostly keyboard-oriented skeletal pop gems from the softest imaginable bones. Sarah Smith sings like a torchier version of the Young Marble Giants' Allison Stratton, singing lost fragments from the Randy Newman Songbook. Smith's guitar playing seems effortless but planned out with a true heart. It's an incredible combination that always pulls itself back from the brink of potential cutesy-pieness with genuinely unexpected moves and a fully brilliant manner of constructing songs. A surrealist cocktail masterpiece from the upper reaches of the Connecticut River Valley.
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FTR 066LP
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"While we were playing the test pressing of this album, the UPS guy came in with a package. He looked at the speaker and said, 'Sounds like that baby's busted, champ.' Chris and I looked at each other and jumped him, popping his eyes out of his head and dragging him into the back room to drain his blood amidst the back stock. Damaged III is that kind of album. Back when I lived at the Believers House in Easthampton, Grey Skull Manor was just downstairs and we would often feel the evil emanations seeping through the floorboards. Of course, this was long before the trio hung up their horned hats and went straight -- George Myers becoming a yuppie movie booker, Jeff Hartford forming the Jeffrey Hartford Sextet Plus One, and Dan Cashman founding the... Fribbles. Back in those days, there was no room for Milkshake Rock amongst these cavemen. Their sound is a perverse improv/noise/metal/core hybrid that makes one's ears bleed with the sheerest pleasure imaginable. Years in the making, Damaged III takes its blueprint from a Black Flag boot cassette called Damaged II. The idea was to take elements of that specific set of tunes and emphasize aspects of them that would deform their intent and meaning. No effort was made to replicate Rollins' vocals (indeed, it sounds like they're all gargling hot dinosaur jizz), but instrumental and lyric samples form the basis of the compositions. An extraordinary, dare I say, Herculean effort by three guys I just previously thought were a menace to society. That was before the Fribbles, of course. Coming to a town near you!" --Feeding Tube Records; Edition of 200. Hand-glued covers.
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