Fucked up Rebetika covers, sizzled shanties and possessed communal shenanigans from punk rabble Triple Negative. Cranky as owt and full of bone jangling voodoo; huff it up!
After cracking heads with a startling debut in 2019, Triple Negative’s 2nd side hits a dead-on mix of rabbly garage psych, Rebetika covers, aching drone-pop and severely smudged crud - think Zoviet France getting on it with Sun City Girls and This Heat at Graham Lambkin’s gaff.
Fearlessly following hunches for delirious, Sufi-esque desert blues rhythms and through to exquisitely cranky drone-pop wheeze, via a lysergically unpicked cover of A. Kostis’ 1930’s docker dirge and nuff communal clatter and untethered psychedelia, this one’s a doozy for anyone partial to a zonked knees up.
We’re really have to highlight that genius/bonkers take on ’Stin Ypoga’, a Rebetika classic restrung to ratchet its plaintive anguish in discordant clang, and also the roughly beautiful, folksy embroidery of Anja Büchele’s Nico-like vox with burned out squeeze box in ‘Fine cargo lacquer’ on the one hand, while wilder haired rhythm freaks with get theirs in the jangling, dissonant dervishes of ‘The Ingrate’ and ‘Bad grace’, all building into a wickedly frazzled album ode to trance possession that revels the joys of nihilistic, noisy jamming and sozzled songcraft.
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Fucked up Rebetika covers, sizzled shanties and possessed communal shenanigans from punk rabble Triple Negative. Cranky as owt and full of bone jangling voodoo; huff it up!
After cracking heads with a startling debut in 2019, Triple Negative’s 2nd side hits a dead-on mix of rabbly garage psych, Rebetika covers, aching drone-pop and severely smudged crud - think Zoviet France getting on it with Sun City Girls and This Heat at Graham Lambkin’s gaff.
Fearlessly following hunches for delirious, Sufi-esque desert blues rhythms and through to exquisitely cranky drone-pop wheeze, via a lysergically unpicked cover of A. Kostis’ 1930’s docker dirge and nuff communal clatter and untethered psychedelia, this one’s a doozy for anyone partial to a zonked knees up.
We’re really have to highlight that genius/bonkers take on ’Stin Ypoga’, a Rebetika classic restrung to ratchet its plaintive anguish in discordant clang, and also the roughly beautiful, folksy embroidery of Anja Büchele’s Nico-like vox with burned out squeeze box in ‘Fine cargo lacquer’ on the one hand, while wilder haired rhythm freaks with get theirs in the jangling, dissonant dervishes of ‘The Ingrate’ and ‘Bad grace’, all building into a wickedly frazzled album ode to trance possession that revels the joys of nihilistic, noisy jamming and sozzled songcraft.
Fucked up Rebetika covers, sizzled shanties and possessed communal shenanigans from punk rabble Triple Negative. Cranky as owt and full of bone jangling voodoo; huff it up!
After cracking heads with a startling debut in 2019, Triple Negative’s 2nd side hits a dead-on mix of rabbly garage psych, Rebetika covers, aching drone-pop and severely smudged crud - think Zoviet France getting on it with Sun City Girls and This Heat at Graham Lambkin’s gaff.
Fearlessly following hunches for delirious, Sufi-esque desert blues rhythms and through to exquisitely cranky drone-pop wheeze, via a lysergically unpicked cover of A. Kostis’ 1930’s docker dirge and nuff communal clatter and untethered psychedelia, this one’s a doozy for anyone partial to a zonked knees up.
We’re really have to highlight that genius/bonkers take on ’Stin Ypoga’, a Rebetika classic restrung to ratchet its plaintive anguish in discordant clang, and also the roughly beautiful, folksy embroidery of Anja Büchele’s Nico-like vox with burned out squeeze box in ‘Fine cargo lacquer’ on the one hand, while wilder haired rhythm freaks with get theirs in the jangling, dissonant dervishes of ‘The Ingrate’ and ‘Bad grace’, all building into a wickedly frazzled album ode to trance possession that revels the joys of nihilistic, noisy jamming and sozzled songcraft.
Fucked up Rebetika covers, sizzled shanties and possessed communal shenanigans from punk rabble Triple Negative. Cranky as owt and full of bone jangling voodoo; huff it up!
After cracking heads with a startling debut in 2019, Triple Negative’s 2nd side hits a dead-on mix of rabbly garage psych, Rebetika covers, aching drone-pop and severely smudged crud - think Zoviet France getting on it with Sun City Girls and This Heat at Graham Lambkin’s gaff.
Fearlessly following hunches for delirious, Sufi-esque desert blues rhythms and through to exquisitely cranky drone-pop wheeze, via a lysergically unpicked cover of A. Kostis’ 1930’s docker dirge and nuff communal clatter and untethered psychedelia, this one’s a doozy for anyone partial to a zonked knees up.
We’re really have to highlight that genius/bonkers take on ’Stin Ypoga’, a Rebetika classic restrung to ratchet its plaintive anguish in discordant clang, and also the roughly beautiful, folksy embroidery of Anja Büchele’s Nico-like vox with burned out squeeze box in ‘Fine cargo lacquer’ on the one hand, while wilder haired rhythm freaks with get theirs in the jangling, dissonant dervishes of ‘The Ingrate’ and ‘Bad grace’, all building into a wickedly frazzled album ode to trance possession that revels the joys of nihilistic, noisy jamming and sozzled songcraft.
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Fucked up Rebetika covers, sizzled shanties and possessed communal shenanigans from punk rabble Triple Negative. Cranky as owt and full of bone jangling voodoo; huff it up!
After cracking heads with a startling debut in 2019, Triple Negative’s 2nd side hits a dead-on mix of rabbly garage psych, Rebetika covers, aching drone-pop and severely smudged crud - think Zoviet France getting on it with Sun City Girls and This Heat at Graham Lambkin’s gaff.
Fearlessly following hunches for delirious, Sufi-esque desert blues rhythms and through to exquisitely cranky drone-pop wheeze, via a lysergically unpicked cover of A. Kostis’ 1930’s docker dirge and nuff communal clatter and untethered psychedelia, this one’s a doozy for anyone partial to a zonked knees up.
We’re really have to highlight that genius/bonkers take on ’Stin Ypoga’, a Rebetika classic restrung to ratchet its plaintive anguish in discordant clang, and also the roughly beautiful, folksy embroidery of Anja Büchele’s Nico-like vox with burned out squeeze box in ‘Fine cargo lacquer’ on the one hand, while wilder haired rhythm freaks with get theirs in the jangling, dissonant dervishes of ‘The Ingrate’ and ‘Bad grace’, all building into a wickedly frazzled album ode to trance possession that revels the joys of nihilistic, noisy jamming and sozzled songcraft.