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Flat Worms


    2020, and the scene is now: world in flames, deserts in permafrost, everyone in their own corners, looking down into their hands. Nothing in common. We can all see that the way it’s happening isn’t working, and for a lot of us, that’s okay, as long as it doesn’t rock our boat, we’ll cope. But for people who are invested in the future, any future – like Flat Worms – they’re out there, full time living, playing to change minds. And they’re not alone.

    Antarctica is the third Flat Worms album in the past four years. It reflects a situation that’s dire, but not hopeless. Since the release of their 2017 debut LP — even since last year’s “Into the Iris” mini-LP — the sound of the trio has hardened, with the polarities of psych and post-punk smelted into a brutal cobalt alloy. No doubt they’re aided by the Steve Albini-engineered sound rendered at Electric Audio, where the album was recorded and mixed (in collaboration with Steve Albini and Ty Segall) in six days.

    The rest of the evolution is down to Flat Worms, whose world view and musical viewpoint pulse with a remorseless drive and a sense of collaborative unity. Will Ivy’s cortex-scorching guitar leads are in united space with the full-body rhythm of Tim Hellman’s bass and Justin Sullivan’s drums. Their social comment, bleak, yet earnest, is leavened with bone dry humor (the title track’s isolation conundrums: “My dog is smiling as I drive her to the park / we sit together in the kitchen after dark / I ask her questions / She just barks”) and caustic pronouncements; a vision of the chaotic, dysfunctional contemporary landscape that recalls the tragicomic expressions of 100 Flowers and the indefatigable recitations of The Fall.

    Commitment. Intention. Collaboration. And a sense that we’re meant to enjoy what we’re doing. Even in the desert of Antarctica, Flat Worms are looking for the upside. Come join them!


    The Aughts
    Plaster Casts
    Market Forces
    The Mine
    Ripper 1
    Condo Colony
    Wet Concrete
    Terms Of Visitation

    The Cairo Gang

    Goes Missing

      Playing with other artists over the years, Emmett Kelly has exhibited an encompassing approach to music which lends flexibility to The Cairo Gang’s song-style. He’s a harmony singer of supreme skill, bringing not only a sweet and supple voice but also a tremendous sympathy to the singing of it (as anyone who’s caught Cairo onstage with Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy will ever know). Now a couple of albums and tapes and singles and things into it he’s making streamlined music for the ears, constructing with a heavy hand in order to have a heavy impact with more than just sounds but songs and beaming them in on bright bolts of sunshine.

      ‘Gone Missing’ isn’t just an awesome, awesome-sounding record of guitar pop that rocks, of songs sweetly hung with candified hooks; also it’s a new report from the side of the road. The Cairo Gang have made tracks and travelled distances from their former states of mind, their former hooded selves.

      The Cairo Gang have found themselves - their most perfect alignment to date, taking a more intuitive path to the song, letting go of the sense of design, letting it write itself, as it will in the right hands.

      ‘Gone Missing’ was written in between places, on the run, recorded in a variety of rooms. Lines appear to have been straightened - yet still, blood beats sidewise inside Cairo’s temples, their rebel heart is drunk on the outskirts of town. The impulse to dig underneath the bittersweet heart, to invert meaning, shapes the songs of ‘Goes Missing’.


      An Angel, A Wizard
      Be What You Are
      She Don’t Want You
      Gangsters Holding Hands
      A Heart Like Yours
      Some Other Time
      Ice Fishing
      The Open Sky
      So What? Who Cares?

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