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Mysteres du Serpent
Mondo Neptune
 c20, edition of 50
 BT038

We are proud to present the debut cassette from Mysteres du Serpent, the new sounds of recent NYC-to-NOLA transplant (and Telecult High Priest and Co-pilot of the Cosmos) Witchbeam Jones.

Pairing with members of the Blood & Ouroboros Peristyle, Witchbeam strips this offering down to its bare essences, weaving deep organic textures into the poly-rhythmic sways of an authentic hoodoo drum circle. The lines where the buzz of the swamps leave off and where their interlaced electronic counterparts pick up blur as they interplay with open air textures and rhythms. The result is so entrancing in its captivity and so organically arranged that one can’t help but find themselves suddenly transported bayou-side, lost in New Orleans thicket.

The release is dedicated to Kenneth Grant and all others that walk with the Cults of the Shadow.
Art by Witchbeam inspired by a 1916 Mardi Gras parade poster.

“The recording quality gives the entire cassette the feeling of being a peculiar artifact from an unnamed era… Witchbeam has amassed nine lives worth of wisdom on Crowley, Voodoo, marginal goth/industrial/power electronics, psychedelia, and underground noise. If they gave out terminal degrees in this stuff, this guy would be tenured faculty.” – Foxy Digitalis (FULL REVIEW)

GRASSHOPPER / OPPONENTS
Click Here To Try Drugs
 c40, edition of 100
 BT035

Straight dank.

TIGER HATCHERY
Providence/Madison
 c30, edition of 50
 BT032

Bringing both a refreshing perspective and an entirely original angle to the game, the trio of Billington, Young and Forbes errupt across two behemoth live monsters plucked from the archives of their impressive 2010 touring schedule. Showing the trio in top form, and in high fidelity no less, you can almost smell the brain matter of the uninitiated dripping down the walls. Sweet splatter music on vellum.

VALES
Fever Monument
c33, edition of 50
BT031

Patience must be 2:00AM Tapes head-honcho Dave Doyen’s middle name, because from the moment I was first introduced to his Vales project last November in a basement in Delaware, I was struck by the deliberateness of his every action. At a methodical pace, and a rather conservative volume, he commanded the crowded basement, rendered awestruck, from his washing machine podium. Fever Monument likewise sees Doyen’s slow burn captured to two monolithic side-long slabs with the same precision and premeditated focus, albeit this time with thick and meaty unhurried oscillations phasing in and out of each other invoking one of those full-body highs that leave you feeling warm all over.

CAVE BEARS
The Treasured Mind
c27, edition of 50
BT030

Words fail to fully encompass the enigma that is Cave Bears. I’ve unsuccessfully sat down to write this description dozens of times, every time feeling that the words I put down seemed to pigeonhole the team rather than drive home the logic-defying gravity they bring to the table, but here goes nothing… A Western Mass outsider core duo of Nick (feeding tube records) and Carrie (who recently transplanted to Maryland) provide an array of self-described “science-fiction story-songs” here, but if you are familiar with Cave Bears at all, you know this offering is bound to be anything but. The duo tell you of could-be worlds, with tales from the other side of the mirror, of blood-fueled space vessels, a thorough explanation of what exactly the blues is (worth the price of admission alone), a very special birthday song and perhaps the greatest re-envisionment of Journey to date. Needless to say, you come out a very changed man from the one you went in as when the tapehead first crossed the leader. Lesson learned, don’t drink the water in Western Mass, or maybe DO drink the water. Either way, you may want to have someone call up and check in on you. Amazing two-sided, hand-carved, block-printed, fold-out poster/art by Carrie. Pretty sure these were carved from those styrofoam trays your raw beef comes on from the local market meat section.

WASTELAND JAZZ UNIT / (d)(b)(h)
split
c40, edition of 60
BT027

I’m extremely proud to have the privilege of releasing this fine split between what are quickly becoming my two favorite horn-centric projects going on today. Wasteland Jazz Unit offer up a complete mindfuck of blown out reed-damage scurrying between your ears in a tornado of panning shrieks and rumbles. Joined by Chris Adams on percussion for some of the most intense shit I’ve had the pleasure from hearing from the hardest working woodwinds in the biz. Justin Clifford Rhody’s ever evolving supergroup (d)(b)(h) (here, Damaged Bachelor Hood) pick up where WJU leave off with an intensely potent cacophony of trumpet, guitars and cymbals which build slowly through thick organic dissonances and searing dynamic washes.

NASA
High Cube
c32, edition of 60
BT026

One of the most recognizable structures at the Walt Disney World Resort, Spaceship Earth plots a timeline from the origins of prehistoric man to the dawn of the 21st century. This post-everything Orlando trio, likewise, takes you on a half hour headtrip thru the dawning of blown-out blues to the trance-inducing psychedelia of tomorrow with a little slow-burning drone and groove-damaged stoner sludge along the way. Recorded in 2007, High Cube leaves no sonic bowl left untoked, picking up where past releases on Not Not Fun and H-tapes left off.

SLASHER RISK
Chillers
c65, edition of 60
BT025

Recorded live at the Knitting Factory this past July as part of Pendu’s New York Eye & Ear II, Chillers reflects the duo’s shift as part of a 8 hour continuous drone room. A final frontier for a band whose shows have been cited as both the greatest “fuck-all insane feedback seance in NYC today” (impose magazine) and “like watching them blow up an old Vegas casino” (wfmu), there was much anticipation to how this duo would translate their signature bombast for a more subdued drone. Their answer, an electric seance, summoning the most wicked thunderstorm any basement in Tribeca has ever seen. Awe-inspiring and breathtaking, Slasher Risk has to be one of the most versatile bands going today.

CHAOS MAJIK
Cry of the 12th Aethyr
c30, edition of 60
BT019

Todd Brooks, the multi-hatted New Yorker responsible for the creation of fine goods and organizer of epic events through his Pendu organization as well as purveyor of a new breed of cerebral jazz as member of the city’s seminal damaged jazz titans Ghost Moth, here offers a rare peak into his far overlooked solo project, Chaos Majik. Despite it’s very electronic origins, Cry of the 12th Aethyr never strays from its organic roots, conjuring images of pitch dark nights in unfamiliar woods, completely blinded by the shadows, but fully cognizant of the thousands of formless shapes slowly enveloping you. Go ahead, turn off the lights and take a stroll through your mind.

MILLIONS
Shredded Heaven
c30, edition of 60
BT021

Horrifyingly beautiful in the truest sense, an exquisitely woven and meticulously shaped narrative assembled from the horrifying nomenclature of hums, buzzes and shrieks by one mister David Suss under his Millions nom de plume. With ever-increasingly epic releases on the likes of Peasant Magik, Abandon Ship and Obsolete Units, Shredded Heaven finds Suss at his finest. “Scrape yr skull against that great celestial cheese grater and let the fruits of that communion drift down and slowly blanket the earth. float back home and watch as all you know is submerged beneath the sweet glacial avalanche.” Synonymically literal artwork by Suss.

SUNGLASSES
Nicaragua ’72
c60, edition of 40
BT022

Having recently relocated to Chicago from Queens, I was glad to hear from Matt Kimmel (man behind the camera at Acid Marshmallow and the keyboard in Fluorescent Vibes) that he quickly settled in and had hooked up with former Miami Beach bandmate, Ryan Chupick, and together had been bringing a new brand of focused meditative hymns to the windy city. Nicaragua ’72, their debut, is a hour long excursion in four parts, each painstakingly restrained, slowly budding from repetitious ebbs and flows, subtilely expanding mantras lowering the pulse and drawing one into a somnolent state, growing steadily until side B erupts and shit starts to get real.

PORK LION
Bajon
c7 + biz card cd-r, edition of 24
BT023

A freakshow of recent experiments gone horribly awry. These diary vignettes range from psych guitar noodlings to knob-twiddling vocodations, with excerpts of an unintended chorus of a oddly sized and tuned folk guitars, a Mothers “cover” and a tone poem for ring modulator and LFO to round out these 3 sides. Quick glimpses into a burnt mind.

FLUORESCENT VIBES
The Weight of the Clouds
c30, edition of 60
BT017

Materializing as naturally as condensation on the side of a glass, this Ridgewood trio (now duo) compromised of members of Arcanode and Miami Beach approach near-weightlessness with this aptly titled magnetic offering. Never has a title so much so represented the vision and execution of a tape more unequivocally. Artwork by Tiana Femano, Ashley Purciello, and Diana Hutyk from the book “weep music + tainted love”.

NONHORSE
Pink Light
c60, edition of 99
BT007

Lucas should need no introduction at this point. As the man behind the decks in the Vanishing Voice and later Time Life (as well as his recent engagement with Woods) he’s made a name for himself by constructing ellaborate epic symphonies of tape-fuckery from stacks of unlabeled, handpainted cassettes, failing to ever disappoint. Here, he focuses on universal consciousness, alien abductions and traumatic encounters with ‘beams of pink light,’ such as that which led Philip K. Dick to write ‘Exegesis’ and his self-examination trilogy in the early 80′s. Ultra-paranoid, fucking grimey and eerie as all hell. Analogous to extrasensory restraints rendering you incapacitated though fully cognizant while deep probing tape manipulations loom above. Pink spray-painted pink tapes housed in pink art, total saturation.