shows // Worst Chips Ever

wce s02 #0018

Worst Chips Ever // 27.04.12 // GOODBYE YOU HUNKY CATALAN

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This week:

NO THEMES! NO SPECIALS! NO LIVE SESSIONS! NO MIXTAPES!

JUST TUNES.

Wretching sound poetry, contrary experimental anarcho punk, hardline imrpov scrapes, D.I.Y agit-synth hell, underwater techno, deconstructed avant rock, mournful funeral pastoralia. And other weird shit.

Dig!

Posted at 11:43, 27th April 2012

wce s02 #0017

Worst Chips Ever // 13.04.12 // BLOOD CLOT BRAIN

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The Hand Loom Lament radio hour returns to your earlugs after a nigh on month long separation period during which I ended up in Cologne improbably drinking cocktails and hanging out with 18 year old squares from Frankfurt, watched an outstanding game of association football in Dortmund, got snowed in in Newcastle (via Nottingham, Leeds and Milton Keynes) and then bounced back up to Glasgow to feed the guinea pig.

During that period I picked up some total fucking pearlers of weirdo wax. Getting a run out for your delectation this time round: Bernard Szajners utterly gonzo melding of Gottsching and Moroder, Carter Tutti Void, A To Austr's Lord Of The Rings on cheap acid long lost psyche adventures, Bruce Russell approved NZ fuzz garage and the new banger from Flower/Corsano/Hejnowski.

The second half of the show will feature a new Ship Canal project I've been working on. Blood Clot Brain involves me covering/heavily medicating/editing/drowning/debasing THE essential Television Personalities record, The Painted Word, in its entirety. Probably best not to listen if you actually like them.

Its one of my favourite records of all time. But don't take my word for it, Julian Cope knows:

http://www.headheritage.co.uk/unsung/review/32/

And you don't mess with Cope. Unless you want your arsehole bored inside out by him banging on about druids and rocks or summat.

Easy.

Posted at 01:58, 13th April 2012

wce s02 #0016

Worst Chips Ever // 16.03.12 // SEXY WAX HAUL

Radicalizes the gap constitutive of the order ultimate enigma of desire obfuscate true horror most elementary of zero forms externalize all libidinal potency index point of the sublime overlap so the fantasy tells me.

A wretched week spent reacquainting myself with my own peculiar brand of sleep disorder, beaten just in time to fuck the whole thing up once more at the weekend. Don't even go out that much any more, barely drink half what I used to, stick to the softer supplements as a rule. Still no dice.

Anyway.

This week I'm bringing you a rancid, sweaty, steaming dose of the brand new. Well, as brand new as a man on my budget can possibly manage.

No themes, no bullshit. Just a mainlined fug of clapped out cyborg minge and blasted soul (not Soul)connivance. Featuring an exclusive track from Austerity Britains ultra delayed forthcoming Hand Loom Lament CD-R and dungheap fresh interventions from Robert Turman, NHK, Toshimaru Nakamura and John Butcher, Black To Comm, Ben Vida and the hearthrob dreamboat cumpuddle axis that constitutes Merzbow/Marhaug.

Might even throw in some stuff that came out over a week ago to keep you cunts on your toes.

Proceed.

Posted at 10:01, 16th March 2012

wce s02 #0016

Worst Chips Ever // 09.03.12 // MEDUSA PURE PISSING HERSELF.

In celebration of International Womens Day, Ship Canal presents a mixtape consisting of some of the least easily reducible female crafted out-sounds this side of a swollen perma-wanking patriarch!

Rapturous tribal chants from Burundi, cracked psycho-shred lo fi gutter rock, totally dessicated ketamine disco, fuck off Fluxus iconoclasm, naked invocations of a mystical Eden and slow-mo psyche trances.

Posted at 01:55, 9th March 2012

wce s02 #0015

Worst Chips Ever // 02.03.12 // SHIP CANAL PRESENTS: "FROM A BEDSIT UNTO SATURN"

Humdinger piss pot manacle slurry untoward drinks cabinet lurker funeral gloat sodden wet patch grandads favourite chair no more bets on the grand national buy summat nice for the wife while the warm weather lasts end of the pier rip chord job none of that foreign muck.

This week:

The home brewed tape scene of the 1980s has been recalibrated and spunked out into the interzone big time over the last few years. Fuck, most of us have entire hard drives dripping with innumerable ultra obscure sub underground psycho-folk from Bhutan and proto-Industrial hate straight out of a Minnesota garage in '86.

But amidst the (now temporarily stemmed) tide of one-time impossibly esoteric and largely uncontextualized infoslabs we all got hipped to by Mutant Sounds or D.I.Y or DIE certain currents become noticeable and subjectively crafted into a weird kind of horizontal scene... these people didn't necessarily know they were doing something that referenced anything outside of themselves and their own taste, but the hyper cataloguing of subculture in the age of cyberspace lets cunts like me get all blokey and try to assemble lineages or something.

So, to that end, I present a mixtape in progress that teases out... utopian synth exploration, wide eyed smacked out anti-disco, weather-beaten no budget galactic escapism (when the nearest different planet outside of your own door is probably Bolton) and full of technofuturist fetishism.

All crafted in someones bedroom years ago. All reaching for the stars.

I hope the result is more like that bloke who used to appear on North West Tonight all the time back in the day with rockets he had built in his shed than it is Appollo 13.

Posted at 14:10, 1st March 2012