The Hand Loom Lament Radio Hour
Tranquil wank-sock desire machine extension of trilby town crier fritter in a bap whence ye came upon a husk of a man a former society man of exquisite stock and warm regard proper bitmarked pound of directors sausages have you got 20p (just 20p) so I can get back to Oldham?
After a fortnight of silence (the Balkans is going NUTS. I'm huge in the Balkans.)the Hand Loom Lament radio hour returns with a languid hunk of wacked out visionary transhuman pastoralism and creaking, decrepit reminders of Albions default mode of completely unassuming bonkers eccentricity.
This isn't England. It's odder than that. It's a refraction of suppressed weirdo currents, a channeling of pre-corporate, industrialized multiculture.
Expect taut as fuck folk cult moves, the implied menace of wrongscape paens to the Open University, ungovernable outsider spittle punk and the summoning of ancient demons, the ones that were birthed by the old, weird England. Replete with unfeasibly large collections of ornamental garden gnomes, pinches of snuff, pork scratchings and total class war.
And a shit ton of Ship Canal edits. What? It's my show, dickheads.
Safe.00:00 - 01:00