øjeRum – Skælver Fuglenes Vinger
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Birds of Passage – Winter Lady
Sale, Tape
Perfect for the wintertime, Alicia Merz’ Birds of Passage project comes from another world, separate from our own. This is an world similar to ours, but everything is just slightly off. A constant overcast sky, filled with birds drifting through these skies leaving long trails of gold and blue ribbons. It’s a fantastic and ethereal plane.
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Mohave Weapons – Smoked Mystics (Tape)
Sale, Tape
Anthropological audiophiles feared that all forms of smouldered geometric sound magic had died away when Europeans reached far in to the desert wilderness of western America. Although this sand based kahuna was never officially outlawed, the decline of native culture saw many forms of sonic sorcery die out as the acoustic conjurers were unable to pass on their wisdom to new aural apprentices.
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Appalache – Fue
Sale, Tape
If you’ve ever had the chance to travel, you know that it changes your life. After a year on the road, from the jordanian dunes to the asphalt of Nashville, Julien Magot locked himself in his appartement to record ‘Fue’, the first album of his lonely adventure Appalache. If you’ve ever had the chance to travel for a long-time, you know how hard it is to fight against monotony of a daily life. This is maybe the start of this story, a way to escape from the outside world’s oppression, a dream about a dream inside a dream, where flashbacks can be possible futures. More than a story, ‘Fue’ can be the painting of a luxuriant desert under the moonlight, maybe like the one on the Barn Owl’s Lost In The Glare cover. 8 songs for 8 colors, leaded by an electric guitar and indians spirits, both hunting for serenity…
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Bird From the Abyss (2 x Tape)
Sale, Tape
Bloodred c60 + c40 tapes, handstamped / inked in black
Handcut, dyed + scored custom chipboard O-cards / insert
Handstamped red 8.5″ by 8.5″ insert with black lettering
Handnumbered & stamped in roman numerals
Screenprinted artwork by D.S. Ciarán
There is a stench here so old that it rids the body of any uncertainty. It is a comfortable rapture. The stench comes not from distant swamps, putrescent and green in their small wakes, or the mounds of bone matter and meat made dust underfoot. This waft of hidden and yet all-too demanding treasures lifts itself steadily from the bated, beating wings of the Bird, on its eternal voyage somewhere far past home.

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