Delroy Edwards extends his now-yearly invite to dance with Rio Grande, following the format of his Hangin’ At The Beach album with a mazy run thru funked-up, lo-fi cuts. Please note that the download version is 22 tracks long, while the vinyl sampler contains 5 tracks.
Short-circuiting questions of quantity over quantity by presenting everything at the lowest possible grain grade and with lots of it to choose from, he lets his mind, and by turns ours, wander freely from hazy cable access TV funk in El Bandito Pt.1, to the vintage porno soundtrack vibes of Rio Grande and the swaggering charms of The Hawaii Guys with ineffably louche and idealised style; kinda like the sonic equivalent of a freestyling skateboarder who can’t help but knock out natty trick after trick with sloppy but deadly style.
If you’re after club jams, run check the sorts of his budget Larry Heard vibes on Rumba or Knock Em Out, and the bristling jack attacks of his Raw Beats, but to be honest it’s best consumed in one hazy sitting, preferably with a henny in one hand and zoot in the other.
Paul Allen, who appeared on the very first Rocket 7" of 1998 with The Heads, fronts Anthroprophh, an outfit who take both garage-bound filth and wayward, abstract artistry to zones beyond comprehension.
"The third release on Rocket for this power lives up to its name in driving just such demented predilections into head-spinning chaos. Structured by Allen's admission akin to Can's "Tago Mago", this is a cliff-edge into sanity-risking overload which has much in common with the glory days of 1971- the Nurse-With-Wound list realm of record-collector gold where heavy rock, nascent prog and wilfully art-damaged netherscapes thrived.
Equal space for everything-on-11 riffage of a distinctly Stoogian/stygian stripe, bracing musique concrete, Butthole Surfers-esque bedlam, Chrome-style sci-fi noise-pop, surreal British humour, and what sounds essentially like a 0s NASA HQ going up in flames.
Who's to say exactly where Anthroprophh move on from this guileless aural endtime mission.
Yet "OMEGAVILLE" - in the tradition of most great out-rock and psych-noise - feels very much like a foot placed firmly on the accelerator in search of dimensions unknown - a liminal zone where fuzz and wah transcend space and time."