Queens Of The Stone Age cover. With Harpsicord. 
Musicians; Benjaminge Guild - Harpsicord
Garret Hartell - Drums
Ben Wilmont - Vocals
Enjoy! (And share it with your friends if you do!)

No One Knows (Medival)

Roughly translated, Blackened Cunt Of The Pale Seal. 1st song from forthcoming Tornagook release. Filthy, Innuit Blackened Grind

Mafaqtuq Vitchuk Misuitchuq Otok

Roboticus Eroticus

Second track from samplefest project Fizzleguts. 

Inferior Grooves

This soundscape was put together with the theme of acceleration and tells two stories simultaneously. The first is of a young person who discovers a fondness for adrenaline. At first this is through exercise such as running, skateboarding and playing drums. It later becomes more severe and grows into drug use (snorting sounds can be heard in the samples) and becomes overwhelming. By the end of the recapitulation section the young person is heavily addicted, suffers from psychosis and eventually overdoses. Eventually high-pitched tones are heard, signaling a heart beat flat lining and a major chord playing a perfect cadence (of the flat lining note) that is traditionally used in church music to signal the end of a song. Both the religious and compositional implications are intentional.  A smooth, un-abrasive synthesizer voicing plays the last note; a direct contrast to the harsh, noisy samples used for the majority of the soundscape. There is then a sample of calm, running water, also a heavy contrast to the rest of the song. These elements are used to signify the end of the person’s life and their transition into the afterlife (or the great peace of death, depending on our views). 

The other story being told here is a timeline of society since the inception of capitalism. It starts quite slowly and eventually builds to a chaotic mess. It attempts to right itself throughout the course of the piece but inevitably builds up again to similar unsustainable levels, each greater then the last. The end of the exposition section signifies the industrial revolution: growing in speed and getting denser. This is a metaphor for growing economies, which come hand in hand with haste of trade. Many of the samples in this section are also mechanical sounding; homage to the new factories and machines which enable the aforementioned quickening of economy. Again, in the recapitulation section things become overwhelming and society begins to collapse into itself. This is bought on by unsustainable practices such as reliance on fossil fuels, over farming to extinction and other irreversible environmental damage. The “death” part of the recapitulation section is when humans are eventually destroyed through the inevitable Armageddon (or the rise of artificial intelligence) and the Earth begins to reset itself. 

Acceleration of the Self and Society

Rough as demo recorded next door to a Jehova's Witnesses Kingdom Hall

Candy - Sawtooth Circus

Cyclone Dicksuck by Cockney Urine off the forthcoming EP Ritalin, Satan! 
Inver's gnarliest doin it dirty,
"Its like morphine for cats" - Woodrow (after snorting 6 cigarette filters)

Cyclone Dicksuck - Cockney Urine

From the forthcoming Non-Stop Emotional Grindcore Party EP.
An ode to Invercargill town. 
RUN! RUN TO THE HILLS CHILDREN!
This song is entered in a booze company competittion, you can vote for it here:
http://tigerbeer.co.nz/Translate/Whats-It-About/Music/Last-Bastion-of-Hope#vote
http://www.facebook.com/TxCxNZ/

Last Bastion Of Hope - Total Cxnt

Demo of Vermin,  recorded in Foo's bedroom @ Casa De Concubine
Humanity is a piece of shit.

Chorus: You’re what’s wrong with this fucking world
You are vermin
Futility unfucking furls
You are vermin
An absconding sack of shit
You are vermin
A flagrant fucking hypocrite
You are vermin
You’re what’s wrong with this fucking world
You are vermin
You’re what’s wrong with this fucking world

And I hate everything you are
And I loathe everything you do
And you are, what I despise
For your existence no reprise

Tie the noose
Eat some lead
Blow your futile problems
Out the back of your fucking head

Smoking barells
Empty skulls
Rather be dead
Then fucking dull


Flufflgronk