Felix NEill

As you can well imagine, my long suffering family are used to all sorts of squonks, bleeps, whooshes, thuds, booms, thwacks and wibbles emanating from "the den". Playing these singles this week, however, resulted in a mass uprising of wife and children to demand that I "turn that horrible noise off". The last time this happened was years ago, in the car. Heartily sick of some or other nursery rhyme CD, I huffily ejected it and replaced it with the first Tindersticks album. My (then) toddler daughter started to cry floods of shocked and frightened tears while my wife looked on from the rear seat, shaking her head silently, her disapproving stares burning into my face via the rear view mirror. Way to kill the buzz, girls.

Anyway, this legendary troubadour, Jim Thirlwell/Clint Ruin/Foetus etc. etc. was by all accounts a proper drug-crazed, seeker of the dark side who made a string of great/horrible records under many guises some years back. These are indeed horrible, but that's the point. Obviously. Check out "Death Rape 2000" for a full on, pummeling, mong-out of trancen-mental proportions.

You have been warned, Motherfuckers.

Vinyl rips at 320Kbps.

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