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Four aces from one of the brothers behind the dope Ilian Tape label, out of Giesing, Munich (where people surf in the river: youtube.com/watch?v=7S3lHFGfbyI). Spaced, rocking, multi-pronged. Warmly recommended.

Lively, varied EP of slithery emissions, school of Actress. Zonked but grooving, glazed with sex. Is that Raymond ‘Juicy Fruit’ Jackson? The Walrus Of Love? A come-hither? A smack bottom?

Bracing portions of the screaming abdabs dressed as naked, hooligan machine-funk — fizzing, stomping, juddering and going mental in the furnace of high noon like whizzed-up children of the hydra’s teeth.

The Californian has a CCCP and a couple of the very best LIES, but this stomping, grisly, suspenseful, four-track assassinator tops the lot. You get plenty more prep and purpose, and a load more killing.

Uproarious, run-to-the-rocks skin-flayers. Rrruff!

Crafted, varied EP from Kenneth Lay and Jason Carr, out of the Metasplice milieu in Philly. A couple of ant nests, a droner with an mbalax tic, and a monster-crunchy, sun-up soundscape. Boot cyan lean.

Deadly, unmissable Mix Mup and Kassem Mosse mini-album.

Fab tee, in honour of Harry Smith.

A spectacular array of forty-eight beauties on this killer shirt, expertly screen-printed.