K: a conspiracy of gravediggers, spies, swim instructors and international pop stars. There are hangmen and there are saints. K as a label has released cassettes, phonograph records and compact discs documenting the audio works of over 150 artists. The main focus K of has been artists working in and around Olympia, Washington, where K is based, but has included comrades from across the U.S.A. and as far away as Japan, Scotland, Australia, Canada, Germany and England. Yes, k explodes the teenage underground into passionate revolt against the corporate ogre world-wide.

Colleagues in the International Pop Underground collide at the K vanishing point. The sounds cross back and forth through a number of genres, some known and some less so: punk, hip hop, atom-powered folk-pop, haunted garage, restless singer-songwriter, epic soul shock, noise expirements, blurred-eye visionary psychedelia, roadhouse mod and the silent film soundtracks composed by Timothy Brock, as performed by the Olympia Chamber Orchestra.

In describing K to a friend, you might say: Hit the streets to the motorbike beat of the cranked and crush crashpop. Raise the standard and hail: a revolution come and gone behind your eyes. Blood and sand and sidewalk. Radio blast the punk pop implosion that is the new breed: a bee in your bonnet, love in a goldfish bowl, zombie rockin behind the iron curtain. Hey, love rocker, pull on your slacks and Mexican army boots, get ready for some sonic pogo action. Jazz the glass, here they come, screaming and clawing, scooters and dune buggies roaring. Bless. Can you dig it? K Collaborators. King loser and teenage underground. Screech and saw. Buzz. Cut. Spin. Slice. Crush. Squirt. Sweaty basement rock and rule. A crown of barbed wire for your hooded throne. Lose it on the ball and chain.

Hey, gravedigger: ignite. 

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