Matt Walsh's newborn label Clouded Vision asked Shadow Cabinet to remix The Countach's acid-techno tune 'Melvin Never Made It.' Shadow Cabinet remixed The Countach's acid-techno tune 'Melvin Never Made It', and it can be downloaded exclusively here.
Hell'O Monsters are an art collective working out of Belgium. Our delivering of Hell'O Monsters in to the streets of Liverpool helped us learn that back in the early 90's, scouse taxi drivers were buying Escher drawings in New York City. We hope that Hell'O Monsters can reveal unbelievable tales for you also.
Hell'O Monsters Website here.
Become a fan of Hell'O Monsters on their facebook page below:
Hell'O Monsters Facebook
Jad Fair made his name as one half of the highly influential slacker rock group Half-Japanese in the 80's who released over 30 albums of simple heartfelt skronk. He has also collaborated with everyone you'd care to mention including Yo La Tengo, Thurston Moore and R.Stevie Moore. Whilst sitting around bored in their tour bus Jad started cutting paper and in the process formed his highly recognisable style. Look here for more about Jad and his music and artwork. Click here to go to the Hiromart Gallery website.
Read VERSUS issue 1.2
Publishing Software from YUDU
Sorry for our lack of internet presence over the past few weeks, we've been really busy writing, designing and distributing, but here is Issue 1.2 'Reality' in all its glory.
We'll be back on WWW. form from now into the future.
Luke Kennard is about to feature in the REALITY issue of Versus. Here's an insight into what he's about.
SOME SVENGALI YOU TURNED OUT TO BE
The last permutational prose poem I will ever write
We were applauded just for being alive. The adult attempts to saw the world in half. The child obeys him.
We were applauded for our ‘fallen into a toybox’ look. The adult attempts to justify the harshest cruelties and egotism of his friend through a sincere examination of his own conscience. The child pushes him into a shark tank.
We were applauded for our no nonsense take on the infantilism of our generation. The adult is left blank for your own message. The child is SORRY YOU’RE LEAVING.
We were applauded for our delicious stuffing mix. The adult cannot remember for the life of him why he went downstairs and has gone upstairs to jog his memory – or was he downstairs in the first place and must go back there to jog his memory about why he is now upstairs? The child has remained stationary throughout and is wearing your spectacles.
We were applauded for not taking you too seriously when you said our whole practice was built on bogus foundations. The adult just said his first sincere thing today at twenty minutes past three. The child will be right with you after he finishes reading comment number 16 under an Amazon review of a novel he hasn’t read, but suspects has been poorly served by its amateur critics; ‘What tributary,’ he mutters, ‘to what run-off pool have I channelled my thoughts?’
We were applauded for our bogus foundations. The adult snaps a chocolate bar in half and admires an edifice. The child kicks over a city.
We were applauded for self-loathing and self-publishing. The adult’s favourite question is ‘Any thoughts?’ The child’s raised eyebrow is more than sufficient.
We were applauded for diminishing returns and doing the washing up. The adult takes work where it can find it. The child carries all your furniture downstairs, piece by piece.
We were applauded for the inherent limitations of our craft. The adult was killed in an explosion, the child is skilled at exposition.
We were applauded for endless repetition. The adult attempts to compose herself, the child outruns its own programme.