ARMCHAIR MIGRAINE JOURNEY (Edward Ka-Spel guest appearance on track 1)
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- Part One
- Part Two
- Space is Disgraced (not on tape)
- * AMJ: bass, sounds, keyboards, voices, HP audio oscillator, effect pedals, field recordings, Caustic Minisynth, DX-7, things that make noise and annoy neighbors and all mix.
- Scot Solida: big-ass modular synth, VCS3, and Symbolic Sound Kyma System on P. One.
- Edward Ka-Spel: vocals, effects on P. One.
- Ty Hodson: drums on P. One.
Artwork and design by AMJ.
Mastered by Randall Frazier at Helmet Room.
Part Two dedicated to Jesse Peper and the Shadow Folk.
(cassette)- An edition of 50 numbered and signed copies with different artwork than the forthcoming LP and CD editions.
(cd)- An edition of 300 numbered copies with different artwork than the forthcoming LP and available tape editions. The first 50 copies will include an original piece of artwork from the ‘hand’ sessions and signed insert. Packaged in a custom made gatefold sleeve with insert. Also includes a bonus remix of ‘Part One’ by Scot Solida/Christus & the Cosmonaughts.
“Cosmic Space Drone” lives up to its name, travelling into the deepest void, its gaping maw swallowing up meteoric dust and wayward celestial souls alike to fuel its endless journey into the infinite. Your journey will follow two long tracks, the first a fuzzy, electronic spacerock whiplash effect that surges and shudders, wrenching you away from the scorched earth and all that you know.
Once escape velocity is achieved, you will find yourself drifting ever further from home, your only company the thrum and hum of the engines – a soundtrack for a doomed crew. Is it grim, even frightening? Yes, at times. But it’s your only hope for survival -and you’ll thank us when your friends are nothing but smoldering cinders on a world gone mad.
So don’t delay! Buy your brain a ticket to ride on these tracks of tachyons, but be warned: this is a one way trip into uncharted territories where ancient machines hum and throb to the forgotten rhythms of distant long-dead pulsars. Once the polychrome porter punches your ticket, there is no hope of return – your consciousness will slowly cook in a churning, burning dark matter stew simmering slowly in a cosmic cauldron. Please, sir, may I have some more? -BLRR