Ways to pay:
1. click on the "Add to Cart" buttons beneath each release and pay via paypal (super easy) 2. mail cash (hidden) or check (made out to NNF Records) to 5109 Loleta Ave, and include a note saying what you want. |
||
New Age Outlaws NNF192—CS ($5) 2009 was a bomb year for Bloomington’s finest, D. Ettinger Esquire: grips of great tapes, a slaying single (“Smokin’ b/w Miami Heat”), plus a stack of cracked magic from his label, El Tule. Thumbs up. 2010 is shaping up to be boss too, with an LP on Digitalis, and now this 50 minute opus, New Age Outlaws. A patient, layered, crypnagogic odyssey through a dystopian parallel universe metropolis glittering with towers of neon and cabalistic pawn shops (run by sharks like Rico) and outside-the-law loners down on their luck (enter Gordon), this is Ettinger’s weirdest and most baroque soundtrack to date. Wonky, echoing synths pitter-patter arpeggiated messages of retro-futuristic melancholy and blade runner blues while primitive drum machines pulse and whirr under the muted blur of the city. Repeated listens reveal strange secrets, hidden plotlines. Allegedly this is the end of Ettinger’s post-Moroder/robot sleaze/soundtrack era, so who knows what the future holds. Whatever it is, we’ll be there. Pro-dubbed tapes in cases with two different screen-grab cover designs. Edition of 200. |
||
Make It Real NNF188—LP ($12) After a six-month hiatus, a complete line-up overhaul, a trip to SXSW, a UK/EURO tour, and a full year-plus of only playing shows and writing songs and amassing totemic objects, finally Pocahaunted return to the recorded realm with their first album since 2008. Time flies when yr having not not fun and all that. Make It Real collects seven of the band’s 2009 live staples for a 40-minute-ish collage of basement body music, garage dub damage, outsider funkadelic sprawl, voodoo rhythm workouts, duo femme soul vocal dynamics, dripping gold sweat, and dream fulfillment. Recorded barefoot and shirtless and direct to tape at Green Machine Studio in summer ’09 by M. Geddes Gengras and featuring guest bamboo sax by jazzmaster Alex Gray (of Dreamcolour/Deep Magic) and mastered by James Plotkin. Black vinyl LPs in jackets with warped LA post-Parliament utopia artwork by vision wizard Spencer Longo. Edition of 500. CD edition available shortly. |
||
LA Vampires NNF185—LP ($12) Every day’s as new as you want it to be so take up the torch and light something unlit. Definite off-the-grid mentalities prevail on this genre-dissolving split 12” between San Fran anima soul voyager Leyna Noel aka Psychic Reality and So-Cal acid-jazz crate-digger LA Vampires. Noel’s toured the states coast-to-coast and dropped a couple potent tape/CDR effigies in the past year but this is her vinyl debut and it captures everything searing and singular about her live alchemy in glowing, glorious detail. Four inter-flowing songs of tone-float piano keys, bedroom drum machines, and white light amplifier vox. Trance-damaged and truth-seeking. LA Vampires’ side madlibs through a more mercurial matrix, using slowed/screwed tapes, boombox Casio FX, low end theories, and bleached voice patterns to conjure a reverb chamber’s worth of dance floor mirages. Future collabs with Zola Jesus and Sun Araw should expound her rhythm method mission. Abuse yr illusion. Black vinyl LPs in glossy jackets with a boldly disrobed duo cover portrait by Caitlin C. Mitchell. Edition of 450. |
||
Science & Industry NNF184—CS ($5) BACK IN STOCK! 2ND EDITION OF 100 COPIES. Got to see this hairy chain gang of Manchester cosmos-manglers bulldoze a hole in the sky at the Islington Mill last summer when Pocahaunted and Sun Araw were on tour in the UK, and the experience left an impression. Jamming their self-released LP was a nice forced flashback but we wanted more and, fortunately for us all, Gnod are obliging types (they spearheaded the post-show dance party when we were in town). That said, we weren’t braced for the 60-minute astral sludge opus Science & Industry when it landed in our mailbox. Opening with a low-end raga of wah guitar, spoken word, and spaghetti western trumpet trills, the piece gradually builds in volume, density, and desperation, finally exploding at the 10-minute mark into a pummeling storm of drums and heavily delayed horns that sounds like the soundtrack to a movie about post-apocalyptic galaxies at war. From there things get intense. There’s stomping bruiser anthems (think Motorhead on elephant tranquilizers), swirling space rock rituals, crushing Loop-style (circa Fade Out) downer ballads, zoned motorik rhythm workouts, biker howling, black holes, science, industry, infinity, whatever. In short: this is your brain on Gnod. Can’t even describe what a magnetic wrecking ball this album is, an April European tour should help spread the word. Pro-dubbed and imprinted tapes in ghost-face J-cards designed by Amanda. Edition of 100. |
||
Capricorn Born Again NNF179—LP ($12) Grey clouds stay grey. Low light situations birth low-lit moods. It's all bummer clockwork. West Coast lurk-jazz triad Topaz Rags return to vinyl with their debut long player, Capricorn Born Again, an eight-song comedown recorded/mixed from spring-to-fall of '09 via a complex 4-track/boombox assemblage method. Everything creaks and hisses, there's smoke in the air, players at the end of their ropes, lyrics washing over faded raga ballads, slinky electric piano bar depressions, shadow gauze cavern pop. The bell jar is half empty, obviously. Slow dive and sink in. Black vinyl LPs (mastered by Pete Swanson) in jackets designed by Amanda. Edition of 400. |
||
Smokin' NNF177—7" ($5) We had heard a couple cassette outings by this Bloomington young-bloomer over the last 4-6 months and each one hit us better than the last but nothing had prepped us for Ettinger’s most recent evolution into neon skyline chase scene soundtracker and that’s part of what makes it so amazing. For Smokin’ he wrangled together a small posse of close comrades (enter The Heat) and tracked a sick session of smoky synth themes, Corvette noir moods, echo dystopia, faded voices, and sleazy Miami sax. The A, “Smokin,’” is the more ballad-y of the pair, sad and smooth, just fired-from-the-force, midnight cruising on the strip, no one to call. The B, “Miami Heat (The Stakeout),” amps the tension, camera zooming in over palm trees and blue-lit swimming pools, a deco mansion on the coast, the place is surrounded, the heat is on, all that. A cool sleaze-psych vision, sickly executed, by a rad fresh energy from the underground. Fingers are crossed there’s more where this came from. Black-vinyl 7 inches, plus a photocopied insert, in full-color sleeves with art by NNF. Edition of 380. |
||
Human Taste NNF174—LP ($12) Portland, OR-by-way-of-Michigan garage gang Little Claw first tripped our radar with their self-released Why Not 7 inch, which was/is raw and physical and swingin’ in all the ways you want a 7” to be. Their LA live shows proved even more ripping and charged; we were sold. So we sprung at the offer to enshrine their latest (and best) album, Human Taste, on vinyl for the world’s turntables to adore. Packed with classic, cracked anthems (“Frozen In The Future,” “Colors You Drown”), basement weirdo stompers (“Modern Vampire,” “Breathing Tape,”) and naked art-punk riddles (“Lay To Waste,” “Summerphile”), the LP’s two sides are slyly sequenced to seduce, blind, and devour, demonstrating a rad range of attacks, escapes, claws, tongues. It’s a great late summer record: between styles, beyond genres, and aggressively alive. Taste the Taste. Black vinyl LPs in jackets with art designed by the band, plus a pro-printed, double-sided 11x17 poster/insert. Edition of 600. CD edition available on Ecstatic Peace. |
||
Powwow With Chopper NNF173—CS ($4) FINAL COPIES. REDUCED PRICE. Named (hopefully) after the scorching ‘75 Fela LP that was inspired by an incident where Nigerian cops planted a joint on him but then he ate it to destroy the evidence and then they detained him till they could inspect his feces (can you believe that?!), Expensive Shit are a wrecked wrecking crew from Austin that specialize in braindead riff carnage of the rawest order. By their own interweb admission they consider their influences “sludge meditation” and “winging it” and their band policy is “no practice, we play anywhere.” That said, Powwow With Chopper – the band’s first public release as far as our we know – road-blasts through gnarly terrain: pulsing avalanches of zen distortion, basement garbage drums, mono-chord ascension marches, etc. No maps, no artifice, just now-minded in-the-blood-red street fighter rock chaos. Pro-imprinted tapes in wild double-sided full-color J-cards with crazy “Zangief chain fight” artwork by Pittsburgh rip-nagogic scholar Spencer Longo. Edition of 128. |
||
Glass Fountain NNF172—LP ($12) Welcome back. One of NNF’s total favorite active bands return with a second full-length (most of which was recorded during the same sessions that birthed their debut LP, Dream) and we are pleased as spiked fruit punch. The Reed/Garbes duo mainly sticks to their guns, mining the same post-Suicide art-trance vein they perfected on Dream, but with Glass Fountain there’s an added emphasis on the disembodied, oscillator pop mode that Wet Hair often toy with. Fountain’s five tracks include some of the band’s simplest but catchiest songs (“Crucifix In The Waves,” “When The Right Time Comes,” etc), mesmerizing organ melodies over plink-plonky vintage drum machines with weirdo soulful singing and outer space electronics, like an outsider-punk Silver Apples or something. Hard to say exactly what universe Wet Hair are operating in and that’s probably part of why we love it so much. A killer record that gets better each spin. In jackets with art drawn and designed by the band, plus a pro-printed 11x11 insert. Edition of 600 (400 on opaque lavendar vinyl, 200 on black). |
||
Raiders NNF167—LP ($11) BACK IN STOCK! FINAL REPRESS OF 250 COPIES ON BLACK VINYL. Following their 2008 East Coast tour with Woods and Pocahaunted the Robedoor agenda has mainly been: hibernating in the City Terrace zone above east LA, adding a drummer/modular synth dealer, and letting the smoke rise. Raiders is the first RBDR LP since 2008’s Endlessly Blazing and is the result of almost six months of slow-burn transformative tape machine meditation helmed by Mr. Ged Gengras. Bummed guitars, loner drone tones, low caverns of reverbed drums and rumble, echo dislocation, and dead voices cascade down into the isolated highways. Song modes are carved out and then left to rot. Features early trio live set staples like “Indo Shadow” and “The Downcast Eye.” You can’t stick your hand in the same black river twice. Change or be changed. LPs in jackets with cover photo by Caitlin C. Mitchell. Edition of 500 (250 on marbled grey, 250 on black). |
||
The Invisible Landscape NNF165—LP ($12) BACK IN STOCK!! FINAL REPRESS OF 400 COPIES. MYSTERY-COLORED VINYL. Last year’s Mystic Induction LP captured PDX wah junkies Eternal Tapestry at their hairiest hour, awash in color trails and nightshade flashbacks. Since then they’ve reverted back to their original power trio line-up, circled the tube amps, and written a fresh, flooring set of brand new electric rippers. And The Invisible Landscape is the fruit of this from-bliss-to-blistering evolution/revolution. It’s packed deep with six kraut-punk psych-shredders, huffing fumes from the twin guitar hero dogfighting of Dewey Mahood and Nick Bindeman while drum demon Jed Bindeman does barrel rolls and nosedives into the eye of the storm. There’s also a rawness and warmth to the production that helps the songs bleed into the ear with more electricity than before, and the riff/vocals interplay is streamlined for optimum mainlining. A fiery high point for a fiery high band. Hit it or quit it. Randomly colored LPs (hues range from silt grey to swamp green and beyond) in pro-printed jackets with art by the band plus a photocopied insert. Edition of 500. |
||
Psychic NNF159—7" ($4) BACK IN STOCK!! FINAL REPRESS OF 250 COPIES. Every family has a freak (or 2). Every deck’s got a wild card. We’ve got Vibes. Ante up. NNF’s loosest cannons return to the recording fray with Psychic, a blown-out briar patch of basement garage fantasy masquerading as obscurist protest funk – and the band’s first vinyl statement. Recorded in Eagle Rock on a “last legs”-style 4-track, the EP’s four songs are jacked deep in the red, with fuzz bass, wah shrapnel, vocal sloganeering, and drum racket all fighting for tape room. Competition is fierce. Recent live faves like “Dead Horses” and “Night Court” appear in particularly revved-up form, as do the first two Vibes songs ever written, “Psychic” and “Prisms Of Fame.” All bases are covered. All soul trains are derailed. Here comes the judge. Black vinyl 33 RPM singles in full-color fold-over sleeves with collage artwork and lettering by Cameron Stallones, photographs by Caitlin C. Mitchell, plus a rant-y revolution scrapbook insert. Edition of 400. |
||
Dream NNF154—LP ($12) BACK IN STOCK!! FINAL REPRESS OF 400 COPIES. When Iowa City freak-out free-rockers Raccoo-oo-oon called it quits last year it left a bummer scar in the Midwest underground scene. But time is a great healer, and so are new bands. So out of the ashes of the RAC pack comes Wet Hair, a synth-punk-trance duo composed of keyboardist/vocalizer Shawn Reed and keyboardist/drummer Ryan Garbes, and Dream is the band’s debut vinyl full-length after a series of increasingly shredding limited-edition cassettes on their own Night People label. Piling together an unlikely trash heap of Suicide-style drum machine beat-bops, zone-droned krautrock keys, and fucked up outsider crooning, the LP’s four tracks careen across a spectrum of moods and mangled melodies. Recorded at Flat Black Studios by Luke Tweedy and mastered by Pete Swanson, Wet Hair’s cult electric annihilation has never gleamed with such razor-edged weirdness; this is their dream made real. Black vinyl LPs in jackets with artwork by Reed and Garbes, plus a pro-printed full-color 11x11 insert. CD edition available on Release The Bats. |
||
Jailhouse Rock NNF153—LP ($11) It’s been a while since Scorces sorceress, Jandek collaborator, and Volcanic Tongue branch manager Heather Leigh has ventured out on vinyl under her own name. And it may be a while longer, as Jailhouse Rock is in fact a wax reissue of a long OOP 2006 cassette classic on Michigan crud factory Fag Tapes. It was a fave of ours that year (and every year), so it feels extra celebratory to be able to offer up a freshly remastered (by Pete Swanson) LP edition of the album for global re-appreciation. Sprawling, long-form descents/ascents into mythic electric disorientation, powered by her trademark recipe of FX-soaked pedal steel and voice. Jailhouse feels loosely more aligned with a mid-aughts drone/noise aesthetic than the outsider dirt road Americana of her Devil If You Can Hear Me LP (also on NNF), but the distinction is a slight one. Side A swims in swooping sheets of vox and tempestuous wind tunnel dynamics before slowly dying away to wheezing disembodied harmonica. The B piece begins in a more overtly beautiful mode, a trinity of crystalline notes picked and stretched until they’re transformed into a rapturous sky of textural distortion. Sensual and vertigo-inducing in equal measure. Black vinyl LPs in jackets with brand new paint/collage artwork by Heath Moerland (of Sick Llama, Slither, Odd Clouds, etc). Edition of 400. |
||
My Estrogeneration NNF150—LP ($12) First ever NNF vinyl compilation (more in the future hopefully?) finds the spotlight landing fairly on the fairer sex, and the glare is glorious. 11 diverse femme musical energies corralled across 12 inches of black vinyl, all exclusive contributions, and the breadth of zones and interzones traversed is a beautiful thing to hear. Carry on my wayward non-sons. LPs in jackets with artwork by Pocahaunted bassist/scholar Diva Dompe, plus a full-color double-sided insert. Edition of 500. This year's Estrogeneration includes: -Zola Jesus -Tickley Feather -Pocahaunted (vintage unused track from Gold Miner's Daughters sessions) -Inca Ore -Topaz Rags -HNY -Talk Normal -Islaja (featuring Samara Lubelski and Blevin Blectum) -L.A. Vampires -U.S. Girls -Valet |
||
NNF145—2xLP ($18) BACK IN STOCK!! FINAL REPRESS OF 320 COPIES. All things must come to pass, if you love something set it free, it’s better to burn out than fade away, blah blah blah. No platitude can mask the permanent bummer of a favorite band breaking up in their prime, and such is the case with Iowa City’s most untamed civic treasure, feral-psych foursome Raccoo-oo-oon, who decided to dissolve this year after nearly half a decade of radical and galvanizing activity (tapes, tours, t-shirts, etc). Fortunately they’re generous sorts, so their parting gift to the fans/haters/planet is a vicious, thorny wilderness of endless, nameless songs heaved across four fried sides of black vinyl. Crawl a mile in their shoes. As far as R.I.P. band statements go, this self-titled monster is tough to beat, by far the most ambitious slabs of sounds the RAC pack has ever put together. Doomed, desperate prog-rock flailings decay into hollow purgatories of dimly pulsing ambience, only to re-erupt into pissed percussion firestorms and experimental electricity. There are a few moments of Behold Secret Kingdom-style focus, but for the most part the mood remains raw and acidic, four souls on edge, backs to the crowd, channeling everything they have left inside. It’s deconstruction time again. Nearly 80 minutes of music, mastered by Pete Swanson, housed in reinforced double LP jackets with “Andy/Daren in repose” photo artwork, plus a pro-printed 11x11 insert. Edition of 500. |
||
Deceiving Illusion NNF143—LP ($12) A thousand years ago, in 2006, Michigan moonlighters Odd Clouds drizzled down their LP opus, The Cavernous End. Within the sphere of open-eyed freeform organized psych-jazz sprawl, nothing compared. Years later that album still kills, but not much has followed in its wake (there have been some loose tapes but those roll in a cruder basement fuckaround vein). So we are personally xxtremely pleased to be able to finally offer up the band’s latest album-length affair, Deceiving Illusion. A six-song spelunk into the deranged group brain responsible for noise scene mainstays like Fag Tapes and Tasty Soil Records, Illusion rumbles through a hall of mirrors of zones/styles, from freaky garbage punk to robot throat games to motorik brass meditations to unhinged 70s German commune beardo psych-blazers. The journey is the destination and all that. Abuse yr Illusion. Black vinyl LPs in stunning 4-color pro-silkscreened jackets with artwork by Chris Pottinger and Jamie Easter, plus a double-sided photocopied insert. Edition of 400. |
||
The Phynx NNF112—LP ($12) BACK IN STOCK!! FINAL REPRESS OF 300 COPIES. All wild, natural organisms have roots, and some even say they’re a good thing to return to from time to time. For instance, right now. In the wake of the jazzed reactions garnered by his Beach Head album and split LP with Predator Vision, today seems as ripe a time as any to re-introduce yrself to chapter one of Cameron Stallones’ Sun Araw saga: The Phynx. Originally released on NNF as a micro-edition CDR in early ’08, this four-song scorcher blinded us the first time ‘round, but now, fully re-mastered by James Plotkin and spread across 12 inches of black vinyl, these raw electric stomping grounds sound positively holy. Our first-time descrip read: “Spanning Spacemen 3 garage cosmos, Starving Weirdos coastal séance, and a healthy stratosphere of pan-dimensional astral feedbackers, The Phynx is a fantastic four-track suite that floats freely from form to formlessness in the blink of a third eye. A great journey into white light dirge and dead distortion blues, and as killer a debut full-length as a label/listener/fan/head could hope for.” All of this rambling was, and remains, true blue. Black vinyl LPs in matte jackets with art designed by Stallones. |
||
SKULL NNF100—art book ($11) After some 27 LPs, 48 tapes, 25 seven inches, 33 CDs/CDRs, and 4 ten inches, the time has finally come for Not Not Fun’s first foray into the great wide world of book publishing. And there’s few better NNF BFFs we could hope to share the adventure with than Fuck It Tapes/Woodsist CEO (and Meneguar/Shepherds/Woods multi-instrumentalist) Jeremy Earl. Since early on in FIT’s adolescence, he began incorporating his own loosely composed symbolist/primitivist designs into the label’s aesthetic (highlights like The Brain Band and Blues Control’s “Riverboat Styx” J-card come to mind), but constant focused labor and the endless march of new projects forced his craft into a heightened state of evolution, birthing countless killer compositions along the way. SKULL is here to pick up some of the choicest pieces from bone-yard and bind them all together. The art inside spans several years worth of work, from 2006-era obsessively rendered ritual serpents and bleeding, 8-fingered hands up through Earl’s most recent experiments with collage and multi-media hieroglyphics. Over a dozen of his most striking and iconic cassette covers are included as well, in addition to scores of never-before-seen images. Dazed pterodactyls, radiant pyramids, possessed worms, faceless figures beneath winged specters: all lurk and loom from the eye of the SKULL. 40 full-color pages, professionally printed and bound, in a one-time edition of 500. |
||
Occasion NNF098—CD ($8) Hollywood, Florida family/band Max and Leslie Soren have been unleashing their private bouts of punishing ceremonial sludge-gaze for the past half a decade now, and there’s been some total titanic highlights (Between the Dead, Grandeur of Hair, etc). But the grunge swamp graveyard they seem to unearth their moss metal from must be profoundly fertile ground, because each new song-cycle they lay to tape is somehow even more miraculously brutal and shimmering and visionary than the one before it. This phenom holds true for Occasion, The Goslings’ newest and maybe deepest doom/beauty inquest. Eight thundering masterpieces of molten slime riff majesty, nightstalker drums, and soaring-into-the-sun female vox that crush the earth, bleed, and breathe in humid darkness. Ranging from the Slowdive-meets-Skullflower transcendent descent of “Motorcade” through to the quaking basement funeral of “Little Horn,” Occasion is a glorious passage into The Goslings’ hidden holy land. Mastered for optimal audio gravity by James Plotkin, and housed in a swank six-panel wallet-style metallic-ink digipak with artwork by the band. |
||
