[engl] full LP of four-teen party jams! super-teem lofi rockers fullfil our raw & catchy needz! You will turn louder and louder with no loss of listening pleasure, just as Belgian disco punk!! With the no-clue-four-track-tape-recorder-sound the feeling of cut & glue fun of 1991 is all over the place rather then copy & past fun of 2015!  The exciting, audacious fervor or their songwriting & performing habits coupled with unmistakably, seemingly uninhibited manner of supercharger way of life have attracted a widespread attention to this form of music again!

[engl] "The TEEN TRASH series is back! LO-FI or bust! Teenage angst driven garage PUNK! Four early recordings from 2013 - a spawn of boredom and basement dirt which could be best described as a hornier INFECTIONS, or high on glue METROS, a smarter BUCK BILOXI & FUCKS or a dumber version of the CARBONAS! These scatter bombs were captured live on 4-track and stayed unedited until RIP OFF RECORDS mastering miracle JIM KUCZKOWSKI put his magic hands on it. As "too-hot-to-press" it was aging in our attic until now and here they finally come! The wildest LO-FI R'N'R thing out of the motherland since DEAN DIRG! Strictly limited to 500 copies.

[engl] In their own words: A weird, yet compelling mixture of garage, exotica and electronica. Smooth feelings surrounded by a hypnotic beat. It doesnt matter whether you listen to them on record or see them live on stage, in the end, it is all about emotion. Produced by Jürgen Hendlmeier.

[engl] Taking his DIY approach to the ultimate level BRAT FARRAR comes rumbling out of a Melbourne bedroom with tunes that sound like they were recorded in 1979 over a cassette version of the first Wipers record. Leaving behind his previous life as frontman of Digger and The Pussycats, BRAT FARRAR has been reborn a one-man all singing all dancing, new wave machine

[engl] From the opening track Hanging Church (feat Spencer P. Jones with a trademark solo) The Braves take you on a sonic ride that will convince you that they are on the up. Formed late 2012 on the outskirts of Melbourne, Australia, The Braves came cutting through the surrounding noise to create a sound and a notoriety that is uniquely their own. Starting with Djesse Bolte on bass and Kelly Watson on guitar, the two quickly found the drummer to suit in Ethan Leversha, the last outcast in town. With a mission statement fully in tact and the sound to follow The Braves started playing every opportunity they got from warehouse parties to backwash bars, artist collectives to the deserts and anarchist centres while building the ever-evolving mould of their music.

[engl] Classical Neo Garage from portugal

[engl] Remember those moth-eaten American bands on unreachable Midwest labels that, in the mid-1990s, would drop choruses that would make the Smashing Pumpkins green with envy, with the crummiest sound in the history of electricity? Maybe not. Well, Bryan's Magic Tears could have been one of them. This project launched four years ago by Benjamin Dupont (Dame Blanche), which features members and ex-members of La Secte Du Futur and Marietta, indeed has it all to occupy this niche, which, by the way, has quite fallen into disuse these days: toxic melodies, guitars oscillating between whiplashes and caresses, ghostly sonorities and a convoluted name referring to some obscure Parisian acid dealer. But wait: this is not about a vain stylistic exercise put together by some gifted kids who fantasize about a time they missed, nor a sad revivalist meeting of old farts who still haven’t gotten over turning 40. If listening to Bryan's Magic Tears brings the 90s to mind, it's not because of the sound – which, as it happens, is very close to that of their tour partners Le Villejuif Underground or Jessica93 – but because of a state of mind that was peculiar to the time and to this particular moment in adolescence, when the last illusions aroused by the fall of the Berlin Wall were slowly fading away, when the dark clouds of the first Gulf War were piling up; this carefree, jaded spleen perfectly depicted in Gregg Araki's films or in songs by Sebadoh, Beat Happening or Nirvana – or even in this famous line from Lou Reed's "Romeo Had Juliet": "It's hard to give a shit these days ". A state of mind that remains pure, intact, limpid in Bryan's Magic Tears music, free from any posture or cynicism, at the service of insane titles – real hazy hits forged in some triumphant fire – which made their first album, released late 2016 on XVIII Records, one of the most beautiful records to come out of the French independent scene in the 2010-2020 season. And we find it again today, even more intense and precise on xxxx, a collection of insane hits – “Ghetto Blaster", "CEO", "Changes", the whole album could actually be mentioned. A record made for those clear and cool days of spring when everything suddenly looks brighter, clearer and more intense. A record that recalls what it feels like to miss the last train of the day and realize you are just short of what it would cost to buy a ticket for the next day. An obvious, indestructible, lunar, romantic, arrogant, phlegmatic, disillusioned record. In short, a record that makes you wish you were 18 again. How many bands could be talked about like that, these days? PRs & managers would kill for such a story - this one is 100 % accurate and happened just like any great story : by chance. Just like the music of the Villejuif Underground, the result of happy accidents and unholy alliances, something that was never meant to be but became an astonishing fandango of sorts. Think Fat White Family covering Oingo Boingo with Beat Happening’s gear. Think Beck’s One Foot In The Grave remixed by Daniel Johnston and Brian Wilson. Think Ausmuteants, the Spits, the Feeling Of Love or A Frames when they really nailed it. Actually, you shouldn’t think about any of this cause whatever you do, you’ll still be far from reality. Way too far. Especially now with the release of When Will The Flies In Deauville Drop?, their second album and the first one on Born Bad Records. 11 tracks in a bit less than 40 minutes. 11 clumsy love letters to heavy backpacks, haunted castles, sleepy parisian districts and tours in China - which happened by total chance, thanks to some girl found asleep on their couch on new years eve. 11 reasons to think there’s a way out of 2019 - already. Your stormy love story with the Villejuif Underground starts here. Be sure to enjoy it. To the max.

[engl] We've very honored to present Burnt Ones' third record "Gift", which may be a bit of a surprise to fans of the band on first listen - it's far more psychedelic than their previous work, a potent blend of wide-eyed strummers on shifting sands, punctuated by blinking oscillators, left turns into wispy sound collage and tape manipulations, drug-rug wrapped lushness and telephone whispers from a supremely stoned sounding Mark Tester, our guide through this cultish and at times vaguely sinister headphone-scape. It's a woozy and a woolly one and features original artwork by William Keihn.

[engl] Think about Reigning Sound at its best, you get The Buxom Blade!

[engl] Can I kick it? Yeah, sure, why not? Rippling through the murk of late 2022 to provide an unlikely source of light, Cardiff’s supremely noisy quintet Can Kicker are here with a last-minute shout for album of the year. If you like your hardcore to flex some serious muscle (well… riff-wise) while skirting around the edges of goth and post-punk, with the needle in the red all the while, their self-titled debut just could be the record for you. Like a breeze block to the back of your skull, this is guaranteed to make everything feel frayed and fuzzy at the edges, delivering a knockout punch that’ll leave you reeling. But you know, in that good way. Luke Penny’s voice is often lost in the maelstrom of pulverising power chords, but he’s no grunting hardcore knucklehead. His delivery is an impassioned yelp that’s dripping with anger and a matter-of-fact sneer that instantly sells his conviction, while the band conjure echoes of Die Kreuzen’s’ Century File’ one minute, Blitz’s ‘New Age’ the next. At full pelt, they sound like Protomartyr and Discharge fighting over whose turn it is to slash the cops’ tyres; the rest of the time (say, the scintillating headfuck of creepy-crawling classic ‘Waking Dream’), they’re busy making the holiest of rackets on what’s arguably the best UK punk record since Denim & Leather’s might ‘Sacred Autism’. By the time the scorched-earth anti-psych of closer ‘Stupid Game Part II’ rolls around, you’ll be aware that you’ve been taken on a journey and you’ll want to relive the whole thing as soon as possible. But take a minute to feel grateful that Drunken Sailor are putting this one out into the world, and just in time for us to call it a Christmas gift as well. This album will melt your synapses so you’ve no idea what your brain’s trying to tell you, beyond the certainty that Can Kicker are the ones for you. Records this deliciously brutal yet immediately habit-forming don’t come along often enough - this might be the last chance for a slamdance in 2022, so give your ears a tinnitus-inducing treat.

[engl] Still unknown in rock territory, French band Cannibale gets its name from its «kind of exotic garage» music whose humid tropical groove is slowly eating up all the stereotypes about Born Bad releases. If there’s cannibalism to be found in «No Mercy for Love», it’s in reference to the Caribbean rhythms here and there, and to the psychedelic sound from the backwoods that make this first album a peculiar occurrence in the land of strikes and wine drinkers. There’s never any silence with Cannibale and, as for the lambs, we’ll stick to the village in the middle of nowhere where the band members reside—a hamlet in Normandy with a total population of 300 including the cows. Rather than human flesh, these guys have been feeding on their own impatience. Their tale, just like their music, doesn’t fit any usual standards: lead guitarist Manuel and singer Nicolas met in junior high (which is the case for 99% of rock bands so far), but the members of Cannibale have a Frustration type profile—almost all of them are over forty. What happened during the last twenty years? With unbending faith, these guys played in loads of bands that never made it to the top (Amib, De Rien, 7Questions, Kouyaté Neerman, Renza Bo, Blast…) and even ended up playing as session musicians alongside Camile Bazbaz or Johnny Halliday. After winning the Inrocks Labs contest with Bow Low, their penultimate band, and releasing two albums with Because Editions, the Norman guys finally decided to create Cannibale in 2016. In theory, considering the beginning of their career, or lack thereof, you couldn’t imagine you’d end up hearing the sounds from «No Mercy for Love»: a surprising mixture of cumbia, African rhythms and garage music. Or, if you will, a kind of missing link between Fela Kuti, The Doors, and The Seeds. So as to climb the ladder of success, Cannibale eventually had the good idea to add a seat to the table and contact JB from Born Bad. That’s when the story turns into a remake of The Wild One, the Brando movie: «JB told us he liked what he heard, so he drove his motorcycle to our place, tried to impress us with a controlled skid, and then we had mashed potatoes. He helped himself to two more servings and said ‘’This mash is totally fuucked!’’ Later on, on his way out, he said: ‘’Let’s hit the road to glory!’’ So now we wait.» With such tracks as Hidden Wealth, Carribean Dream, or Mama, stay patient guys, success shouldn’t be too late to come now. Following other recent releases such as El Blaszyck’s «The Quirky Lost Tapes» and «Rhapsode» by Forever Pavot—whom Cannibale resembles at times—this album is yet another testimony of the label’s open-mindedness, a proof of the boss’s passion for uncommon destinies. Who else would have betted on a bunch of forty year-olds whose origins are as white as their soul is black? No one, in theory. «Releasing the album in our forties, we think it’s a laugh. Of course we keep on believing, it’s all we do, it’s what’s keeping us alive.» Goes to show you can be called Cannibale and still believe in resurrections.

[engl] If Cannibale’s members brought their breakfast back up when talking about “Not easy to cook”, their listeners would be surprised. These fortysomethings being signed by Born Bad Records, the image of greaser-looking garage rockers would come to mind, but with bits of exotica stuck between the teeth, Nino Nardini & Roger Roger’s “Jungle Obsession” spilled on the table, and plastic-bottled tropical glam puked by some even more stupid incarnation than Wayne’s World’‘s Mike Myers. The stage is set, now you have to clean up everything. Why mention all this? Because there’s a world of difference between the beginning of Cannibale’s success story and this second album. It wouldn’t take much to feel as if Freddie Mercury showed up in a Renault 16 supersport to play marimba for old oafish rock fans. And actually, that’s about it: The Rocky Horror Picture Show meets Fela Kuti in rain boots. And though the amount of cows hasn’t increased in the Normandy hole these guys hail from, the number of their shows did. Between “No Mercy For Love” (their 2017 debut album), and the new one “Not easy to cook”, these Frogs – to quote the title of the opening track – did not switch from psyche cumbia to coarse-grained autotune, but rather roamed roads like doped cyclists: more than 100 dates in less than a year (including quite a few with Frustration and the Villejuif Underground), festivals such as Rock en Seine, and a eulogistic press review: “Indolent rhythms invoking Latin America and Africa.” (Mowno) “Nomadic, willingly sunny garage rock.” (Libération) “Songs that provoke visions or hallucinations.” (France Inter) See, Johnny Hallyday himself did not get such media coverage! So what’s Cannibale’s secret? Being old and giving 19-year-old kids who just discovered marimba tutorials on YouTube a thrashing? Certainly, but it’s a little more than a band of old fogeys. “The band learned it all on the road in less than two years,” says Born Bad’s Jean-Baptiste Guillot. Songwriting-wise, they’ve known how to do for a long time. The members – survivors of various screwed-up musical projects – finally succeeded because nothing else than music mattered anymore. In that, the band’s deviant trajectory is not so different from Vox Low’s, another in-house signing. But the most surprising thing about “Not easy to cook” is the sultriness that emerges. It’s hard to sum it up other than by comparing these 10 songs with some pressure cooker in which bits of dancehall, London ska and Hawaiian dub would have cooked together. Here’s the small miracle achieved by this LP recorded by the band in its remote French village: sounding French, but Polynesian French. With “Not easy to cook”, frogs, birds, sounds from the jungle can be heard in a living room. Those already traumatized by Arthur Lyman’s vibraphone and Les Baxter‘s Lounge music should feel at home; novices will finally discover something other than Saturdays at the Whole Foods Market store.