Blackpool and Skam’s greaziest electro mutant coughs up an addendum to their first LP in decade with a side quest ,’Phasia’, that continues the B-movie misadventures of ‘Phocus’
‘Phasia’ feels like finding a near derelict - but actually open - video store on the backstreets on Blackpool (the bit where it gets really reel), and being granted access to the bit behind the chain curtains by a proprietor not dissimilar to the joke shop owner in The League of Gentlemen. Behind the rare blueys, video nasties and forbidden Chubby Brown section, lies a portal to ‘Phasia’; a wormhole into the high grade ’80s funk smut and fractalized memory reflux of VHS Head projected onto all walls and jacked into the nipples of local council bigwigs, the £1 burger bloke on his day off, and the likes of Lewis Jones and intrepid holidaymakers looking for summat a bit more exotic, y’know, for specialist tastes.
Between the neon sludge and brassy fanfare of opener ‘Locus’ and never-made-it-to-video-reverie ‘Phocus Trailer’, the cutting room floor offcuts of ‘Phocus’ make a highly entertaining album in their own right, swerving from the electro-jump-cuts of ‘Strange Food’ to screwed power-pop like Peter Gabriel on quaaludes in ‘Mouth Matte’, thru the heart-in-mouth romance of its title tune, the orchestral stab flashes of ‘Head Crimes’ to the briny tang of ‘Dream Peeping’, like some curdled Kate Bush, and killer drug chug of ‘Phocus’. Love it.
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Blackpool and Skam’s greaziest electro mutant coughs up an addendum to their first LP in decade with a side quest ,’Phasia’, that continues the B-movie misadventures of ‘Phocus’
‘Phasia’ feels like finding a near derelict - but actually open - video store on the backstreets on Blackpool (the bit where it gets really reel), and being granted access to the bit behind the chain curtains by a proprietor not dissimilar to the joke shop owner in The League of Gentlemen. Behind the rare blueys, video nasties and forbidden Chubby Brown section, lies a portal to ‘Phasia’; a wormhole into the high grade ’80s funk smut and fractalized memory reflux of VHS Head projected onto all walls and jacked into the nipples of local council bigwigs, the £1 burger bloke on his day off, and the likes of Lewis Jones and intrepid holidaymakers looking for summat a bit more exotic, y’know, for specialist tastes.
Between the neon sludge and brassy fanfare of opener ‘Locus’ and never-made-it-to-video-reverie ‘Phocus Trailer’, the cutting room floor offcuts of ‘Phocus’ make a highly entertaining album in their own right, swerving from the electro-jump-cuts of ‘Strange Food’ to screwed power-pop like Peter Gabriel on quaaludes in ‘Mouth Matte’, thru the heart-in-mouth romance of its title tune, the orchestral stab flashes of ‘Head Crimes’ to the briny tang of ‘Dream Peeping’, like some curdled Kate Bush, and killer drug chug of ‘Phocus’. Love it.
Blackpool and Skam’s greaziest electro mutant coughs up an addendum to their first LP in decade with a side quest ,’Phasia’, that continues the B-movie misadventures of ‘Phocus’
‘Phasia’ feels like finding a near derelict - but actually open - video store on the backstreets on Blackpool (the bit where it gets really reel), and being granted access to the bit behind the chain curtains by a proprietor not dissimilar to the joke shop owner in The League of Gentlemen. Behind the rare blueys, video nasties and forbidden Chubby Brown section, lies a portal to ‘Phasia’; a wormhole into the high grade ’80s funk smut and fractalized memory reflux of VHS Head projected onto all walls and jacked into the nipples of local council bigwigs, the £1 burger bloke on his day off, and the likes of Lewis Jones and intrepid holidaymakers looking for summat a bit more exotic, y’know, for specialist tastes.
Between the neon sludge and brassy fanfare of opener ‘Locus’ and never-made-it-to-video-reverie ‘Phocus Trailer’, the cutting room floor offcuts of ‘Phocus’ make a highly entertaining album in their own right, swerving from the electro-jump-cuts of ‘Strange Food’ to screwed power-pop like Peter Gabriel on quaaludes in ‘Mouth Matte’, thru the heart-in-mouth romance of its title tune, the orchestral stab flashes of ‘Head Crimes’ to the briny tang of ‘Dream Peeping’, like some curdled Kate Bush, and killer drug chug of ‘Phocus’. Love it.
Blackpool and Skam’s greaziest electro mutant coughs up an addendum to their first LP in decade with a side quest ,’Phasia’, that continues the B-movie misadventures of ‘Phocus’
‘Phasia’ feels like finding a near derelict - but actually open - video store on the backstreets on Blackpool (the bit where it gets really reel), and being granted access to the bit behind the chain curtains by a proprietor not dissimilar to the joke shop owner in The League of Gentlemen. Behind the rare blueys, video nasties and forbidden Chubby Brown section, lies a portal to ‘Phasia’; a wormhole into the high grade ’80s funk smut and fractalized memory reflux of VHS Head projected onto all walls and jacked into the nipples of local council bigwigs, the £1 burger bloke on his day off, and the likes of Lewis Jones and intrepid holidaymakers looking for summat a bit more exotic, y’know, for specialist tastes.
Between the neon sludge and brassy fanfare of opener ‘Locus’ and never-made-it-to-video-reverie ‘Phocus Trailer’, the cutting room floor offcuts of ‘Phocus’ make a highly entertaining album in their own right, swerving from the electro-jump-cuts of ‘Strange Food’ to screwed power-pop like Peter Gabriel on quaaludes in ‘Mouth Matte’, thru the heart-in-mouth romance of its title tune, the orchestral stab flashes of ‘Head Crimes’ to the briny tang of ‘Dream Peeping’, like some curdled Kate Bush, and killer drug chug of ‘Phocus’. Love it.
10-track picture disc. Edition of 500 copies.
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Blackpool and Skam’s greaziest electro mutant coughs up an addendum to their first LP in decade with a side quest ,’Phasia’, that continues the B-movie misadventures of ‘Phocus’
‘Phasia’ feels like finding a near derelict - but actually open - video store on the backstreets on Blackpool (the bit where it gets really reel), and being granted access to the bit behind the chain curtains by a proprietor not dissimilar to the joke shop owner in The League of Gentlemen. Behind the rare blueys, video nasties and forbidden Chubby Brown section, lies a portal to ‘Phasia’; a wormhole into the high grade ’80s funk smut and fractalized memory reflux of VHS Head projected onto all walls and jacked into the nipples of local council bigwigs, the £1 burger bloke on his day off, and the likes of Lewis Jones and intrepid holidaymakers looking for summat a bit more exotic, y’know, for specialist tastes.
Between the neon sludge and brassy fanfare of opener ‘Locus’ and never-made-it-to-video-reverie ‘Phocus Trailer’, the cutting room floor offcuts of ‘Phocus’ make a highly entertaining album in their own right, swerving from the electro-jump-cuts of ‘Strange Food’ to screwed power-pop like Peter Gabriel on quaaludes in ‘Mouth Matte’, thru the heart-in-mouth romance of its title tune, the orchestral stab flashes of ‘Head Crimes’ to the briny tang of ‘Dream Peeping’, like some curdled Kate Bush, and killer drug chug of ‘Phocus’. Love it.