New Chocolate Monk releases (October 2021)

[chocolate monk]

Dear friends,,

please read on for details of new releases on Chocolate Monk.. Postage id Free in the UK,, Postage for Euroipe is £4 for 1-5 disks.. Postage to the Rest of the World is £5 for 1-5 disks.

The Negative Kite - Hovering A Corner Into Carpet High Skies CDr £5
choc.532
Birmingham's mysterious The Negative Kite return after a short (for him) 3 year absence with 41minutes and 41 seconds of hard to pin down lo-fidelity xerox like tape music. This thing wheezes, crackles and confuses. Bass rumbles and skittering cassettes float alongside distant resonanting who-knows-what while unknown animal like sounds burble up into earshot. Feels like yr floating over some monochramatic landscape. Astral projection music for all you ferric oxide animists.

I don't know if he ever found Evil Ruth.

Edition of 60


Horse Laminators - If You Can Hear This You're Too Close CDr £5
choc.531
Max Nordile, SIndre Bjerga & Theo Gowans. Hey poser forget the much-vaunted cardiovascular workout and let these masterful triumvirs ratify your brain and ears with their beyond crunked cut-up music. A heavy session of scrambled listening awaits if you are ripe for said ratification. Breath deeply.
Edition of 60


National Disgrace - An Evening With National Disgrace  CDr £5
choc.530
Paul Sturm famously observed in 1986 that "Times are bad" and here is the proof.

 "Recorded live at 'Vis Club, San Francisco California, July 3, 1986. Founded in the early 1980s, National Disgrace included myself, Kit Young, Andy DeGiovanni and Marshall Webber though I think just Kit and I made it to this show. Ensemble was hand-made sculpture which produced waste sound, utilized in the "songs". Percussion was springs on metal, banging on scrap metal, rotating motor with objects whapping into metal. Strings were from Industrial shortening 5 gallon cans made into amplified pseudo-guitars. Vocals were backed up with melted records and harmonica. A National Disgrace show would be an array of these sculptures emitting sound at random with slight human moderation. - Fred Rinne, Hagersville

"The night before Independence Day in America is for eccentrics and art mutants what a full moon is to werewolves. Party time. An excuse to ramp up full-throated expression of the obnoxious national character. A celebration of our freedom from centuries of German rule. Nothing could be better suited to capturing the chromosome-flaying “wastesounds” of National Disgrace on such a momentous night in 1986 than a hand-held cassette recording made from the audience. The fidelity here is ghastly and uneven, the ideal vessel for the band’s hoarse, harmonically tainted howling and simpleton rhythms. The entertainment flows with glorious promiscuity in both directions, to and from an audience that demands as much attention as the amplified escapees onstage. It was a night of stellar industrial folk, a genre that to this day remains less than thoroughly explored. In the face of Fred Rinne, Kit Young, Andy DiGiovanni, and Marshall Webber’s appalling and consistently perfect renderings of pop music (the dumpster fire of art), who can blame anyone for hesitating before trying to knock the masters off their reclaimed garbage throne?" - Seymour Glass, San Francisky

Edition of 60


Neil Campbell & Sticky Foster - ORANGE EMULSION GUSH CDr £5
choc.529
These two old heads were recently reunited when El Stickoid was granted a short break back to the Brexit Isles by his handlers after successfully sewing confusion in Tunisia. With his never waining Protestant work ethic Campbell dragged our bedraggled Agent to Huddersfield's Dai Hall on a Saturday afternoon in August for a short but savoury jammer of sonic sourdough positivity. Praise the raise!

"From a fine Calder nosebag we headed to the sandstone tones o'Hudd, Neil effusively introducing the jewelcase misery geyser, whose wares we browsed before hirsute sarnies and mauve sambuca coffee. Vacated shop had space, signs of good goings on, hot beverage access. Deep, dark broomcupboard of bags of janglers, cables n footstomp extracted, and Neil applying suitable pluggings. Ebb n flow of harmonium lungs overstretched the retied strap and footpedal duo down to one. Painted pedestals for swapping toys, alpini and no-lamb chanters, things fumbled out of parps to a scratchy throb, between mugs of tea. So long since I'd had a tinkle with anyone but felt so good!
I didn't see it coming, but a gush of white emulsion appeared down my thighs as we deposited the clangers back in the broomcupboard. Glee turned to distress as we realised we'd tipped it into one of the few items not purchased in a Bradford poundshop, but teetering bows and floor rolls had a wind-down follow-up as we rubbed back the Superstition's orange panels. T'was a guilty tale to confess at the well ventilated head of steam." - Sticky Foster, Sidi Bo Said 

Edition of 50


Kambrik Zone - Vaporous Clamor CDr £5
choc.528
Cody Brant (objects, feedback, tapes & voice) and Ian Mckenzie (Syntheszers) know you never asked to be born. They have just the right soundtrack for you hurtling towards the finishing line.

"The sound of the electric other has been here for 65 years, and while it changes a little depending on which technology is cheap, or whether or not you’re American, it never progresses per se. And I don’t think it should. Because we’re all trapped.

Cody and his friend Ian are from Las Vegas. He’s had a steady trickle of releases over the last 5 years, many of them on Chocolate Monk. He started like many do, collecting found answering machine tapes, and now makes wet-yet-airless collages that build tension but never resolve.

Round tones hang like a heat, and then are slowly punctuated by the ugly gallop of some somethings plugged back into themselves. Give yourself over to this sound, and you can intuit the heartbeat of a Boston Dynamics robot- a mechanical cop that will keep coming until everybody that isn’t rich is eradicated from existence. There is no foreground on this record, no depth. Sometimes the electronics are juicy, and sometimes flat. Sometimes a snorg has a fuzzy edge, and sometimes it’s metallic. But be certain, you’re always inside the robot and the robot can’t feel. It has no head to feel with. It can only do backflips and open doors while it endlessly patrols. You know it’s looking for you." - Angela Sawyer, Jamaica Plain

Edition of 60

Othere titles still available from Howard Stelzer, Translucent Envelope, Forrest Friends, Seymour Glass & Ali Robertson and many more

CHOCOLATE MONK