Invasion Of The Curtain Twitchers Part1. (2012)

Old mate Mat caught robbing batteries from Tesco. fight the power 'dudemar'!

Laterobber (RFX of 'Cheeseman vs the police' by ESA) 2009

Part Man, Part Bear, ALL Dinnerlady.  
(credit to RogueState for the cook it up soundbite, and League of gentlemen for the we don't masturbate bite, oh and FSOL for some noise I tweaked around with. sure they won't mind, for a good cause. in theory.)

Hardcraftian.V1.3  (winter 2013)

2011. thanx for the sample mammeries to those used. all for a good causality.
(from the forthcoming album 'I Sold My Soul To Cash Converter')



Thinking Of You Is Like Self Harm (2011)

species of bouncy melancholy.

Just the other day I was on Google Earth and I spotted in a Wiltshire field an 1100m by 1100m crop circle of a very nicely done geometrically perfect massive vagina. I went back the next day to show a friend, and I wasn't surprised to see it had been cordoned off by the government and strategically 'shaved' out.
There is a cover up going on. The Ancients are coming back, and I'm saddened to assume, many of them are twats just like us.




The Mechanical Wanking Tramp Orchestra (Of The Sublime Gnomm) Fall 2013

MKulture 2012


---PLAY YOUR CARDS RIGHT
fresh pack, 5 cards, 3 is too easy for nay-sayers, 4 is nice and round, 6 is devilish and pushing it, 7 is Hardcraft setting. a full pack of Tarots is megadog mode.
-up to 4 players.-
include joker (or ace of spades, jack of hearts etc...) as one of the cards number.
think about everything that card embodies; songs, films, images, poems (in jokers case, rogue elements, Schrodinger's cats, batman, Ticktock and the Harlequin, V vendetta etc... whatever.)
then try to not think of it.
tricky isn't it?
spread the cards face down, and each wearing gauzy black blindfolds (dark enough to see in the mind's eye, translucent enough to just see what your doing without cheating.)
opponents have to disrupt though patterns without making ANY noise or movement, while the player whose turn it is must paint the joker in their 3rd eye and pick it FIRST or, for a bonus multiplier, LAST. 
no in-betweens. no close but no cigars. no arguments.
go round to the left, shuffling after a go and spreading for the next player. each player gets 10 picks, 
add up scores at the end of the round and percentage them. any bonus shots multiply the individual's score by amount of bonus shots. 
ie, 2 bonuses, x2. 
3 bonuses,x3 etc.... 
one alone is just an extra point out of 10. sorry guys.
players can chip in to the pot however much they feel confident they will win. minimum £1.
onlookers can place bets on each round: yay or nay, and even begin to back any potential winners emerging by upping the pot for a percentage of the winnings. 
IMPORTANT: spectators must remain hushed but can move. no sudden distracting gestures though. do that and we string you up. 
there is no time limit for a pick, but, within reason; don't want it dragging on all night for fucksake.
say 10 seconds and turn over or else a punch in the shoulder. from everyone. (but when your're on a roll and it's 'happening', you will just know and get it like -snap- that. 
very satisfying.
try it. it's basically a meditational exercise that aids creativity, and later, lots of other wonderful ESP things like guessing near possible futures, probability of likelihood (great for easing paranoia), sensing 'good' auras or 'bad' intentions/character pasts, not being scared by 'sleep paralysis', and even... drumroll... remote viewing. (very hard. helps to be stoned or similarly lubricated...)



Furoremancer (winter 2013)

an overhaul tinkerup of 'feelin gud' by Arie, coldupnorf.

Gore Hippy Vidal Gastroenteritis.

Always kick errant snout packets around pubs and clubs at weekends; the feet have an uncanny built in sensor that sends a quantity estimate straight to the brain; 
18 free B&H- fuckin bingo!
Remember to check down the papery bit at the back, some revellers use tab packets as impromptu smuggling wallets. in slips a finger, rumety-rumage; two folded up Darwins and half a gram of nostril damage. Brucie Bonus! 1-nill. (Bottom of Tshirt tucked over the head) 
IN-GER-LUUND! 
It's a good night a for you, and somewhere, someone is in a squat disco toilet red facedly demanding their mates turn out their pockets...
"It's not enough to succeed, others must fail."
such is the state of affairs. wella day.





Smackupuncture. (winter 2013)

sacred and sinister.  
credit due to Asian Underground and Joni Mitchell for some cut ups and loop engineering... (this is just as much a remix as much as an original track.)



Devious Nostril (winter 2013)

Generation Expendable

THIS SUMMER!
The Rise Of The Saviours-
-World War Jesus.
Sandals at dawn.
Hard drinking, spliff toking, no holds bared biblical bashing bonanza! 
Daily Mail outrage at accidental bus stop-buttock-brushing scandal; blurred issue Twitter furores;- 
sanctimonious hand wringing. 
Rare n raunchy Christ on Christ crime.
Satan at the Superbowl singing over and over and over again, my friend, you don't believe we're on the eve of destruction...
it's AOOWN mutha FUCKA! 
Burning banks.
Gelatinous Holy forehead beams of hot pearly justice.
(#FunThing21: Scroll down to the bottom of your soundcloud page, hover the mouse over the little 'cloud' icon.
read what it says. how long has THAT been there?!? OOO-OOH!)
ArmaGideonoudahere!

-Download tickets now to avoid disappointment and you'll be making squeaky-fart noises with your clasped palms and chuckling like a crinkly eyed tit.-

5D Printed Drug

All songzies are beta sketches in various states of development and arranged and built ground up from scratch, self sampling, reversed stretched and perversed using as few VST's as possible to emulate a bedroom minimal hardware setup. (which it is anyway, of sorts, at times...) A guitar may or may not be used to noodle ideas for melodies and riffs, as well as humming and slapping the walls in the bath. While herbal DMT and the breakfast cereal 'Special K' may or may not have been ingested analy in the past to contact other planes and facilitate creativity, our client would like to stipulate clearly at this juncture that this was a passing phase of experimentation, and is in no way a habitual current occurrence (if it can ever be proved) or in anyway condonable. (Yer Honour(!)

Evicted from squatting his mother's womb way back in the mists of time of seventy nine, Bru was 'ere Bruing up trax on and off since the analogue Roland dayz of 1998, where he amused his friends and 'hit spacebar' and even 'Did It Right' in several Sheffield clubs and parties, even in Bristol, once, as a make or breaker with co pilot 'ESA', where the monitor leads got left behind and drinks got drunk... but the less said about this debut debacle, the better. (A book may or may not be released entitled 'The Long Cold Wait For The Van Home') 
 Harbouring a haughty disdain for over using magazine sample CDs (though Bru thinks nothing of occasionally pinching bits and drum loops from mates and old records -Tsk!), After a good decade gap, some might say 2009-'13 is a bit late to bump start a career shot. Especially on no money and a dying laptop with crap CPU. The words ship and sailed spring to mind like dagger wielding masked assassins.
Such is life. 'Tis a tangled web we weave...

his sound can best be described as I.D.M or noise to annoy you neighbors with; a intoxicating heady concoction of hailstones bouncing off a sheet of tinfoil in an ally next to a pub in Glasgow; Turn of the nineties pirate shareware program and Atari ST music demo disks encrypted with the dates and hotlines of raves; clipper lighters puffing gas next to a microphone; an ADD couch surfer drumming in a chemical factory while a midget pornstar breaks wind into a bucket full of pingpong balls; a disillusioned punk kicking a washing machine full of bricks down a concrete stairwell; a glue huffing brass band at midnight in a deserted underpass...

Influences range from AFX to Bjork to TheKingBlues to Billy Brag to Ceephax to Coltrane, Cash, The Deadly Syndrome and Eno to Luke Vibert to Ziggy Stardust and Marley and Martha Wainwright and of course; Tom Waits, and, and more besides; up and down the alphabet like a couple of fucking hammers on a big bastard xylophone.

 Inventor of the full Christmas dinner toasty(c); a product of his generation, and tireless campaigner of manning the barricades of what you can 'joke' about with the deadpan format of social networking,
 When not being followed by an ancient sect of illuminated seers because they believe his subconscious holds the key to humanities last hope of understanding the plot of 'Lost', Bru likes to collect little smudges of strangers' morphgenic resonances and store them in his flat like lingering smells, and once even accidentally forged a schism through the Duuat to another harmonic of existence, until the neighbors complained to the council because all-sorts were passing through at odd hours. 
He also recently spent the summer as a small god; a false messiah, though he never actively claimed to be one, as it doesn't help pay the rent.

favorite quote: 'There is nothing conventional about wisdom. There is nothing common about sense.' -Rob Grant.

At the risk of seemingly spurious rhetoric and bombastic hubris; the songs in this collection are definitely ALL about him...
...And he STILL doesn't know his 7xtable.

(Addendum: if you are mystified and offended or generally have any kind of problem with anything post or write or draw; be it online or in my own fucking home; then please feel free to mail me and I will endeavour to completely overhaul my sense of humour, just for you.=) 



Generation Expendable

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