calling all blowhards, cosmic-jesters and techno-goons:bintus is back!

power vacuum celebrate release no.25 with something pretty special as you d expect from this label. one of things we love about power vacuum is that they consistently release challenging and bold music for the dancefloor without forgetting the fun, aways pushing new artists and producers you really should know more about.

mark broom electro mix - one of three mix tapes using tracks from the power vacuum back catalog. cassette includes download. limited to 100 copies.

jerome hill techno mix - one of three mix tapes using tracks from the power vacuum back catalog. cassete includes download. limited to 100 copies

milo smee mentasm mix - one of three mix tapes using tracks from the power vacuum back catalog. cassette includes download.

parasols aka ali renault

big-system electronics from scalameriya (serbias nikola grebovic)

amish boy aka sküge (not to be confused with skudge) is hugues croibien, a thirty seven year old belgian who has experimented with electronic music since his teens. with a diet of seal phüric, the prodigy, autechre and unit moebius stoking his primordial fire, croibien began to align with the rage that exists in the breakcore genre. already an addict of reggae and dub at this time, croibien decided to create some cut-up raggacore with his brand new ableton live 3 software. meanwhile with friends, croibien created break n brol, a non-lucrative association which tried to promote alternative electronic music in liège where he lived. they premiered some bassline stars kanji kinetic and -squire of gothos- on the belgian scene, alongside other alternative electronic composers and musicians like subjex, ebola, mustard gunn and herrmutt lobby. the fellowship decided to create a free net label to release compilations with the bnb party artists. the rough style techno resurgence over the last few years has precipitated a metamorphosis, sküge became amish boy more glitchy than techno, more offbeat than acid and more ambivalent than industrial. although heavily invested for two decades now, laika test project on power vacuum will be croibiens first vinyl release, with a follow-up already in the pipeline.

if you want to join the london funk collective the only caveat is that you play no original vinyl - only compilations or cds or downloads of the most well known funk tunes. any diversions from these rules and you will be expelled from the london funk collective.

precise, brutal techno administered by bosnia herzegovinas dragan lakic.

forgotten idols lie smashed and scattered across the floor. dissonant undercurrents coerce a riptide of shattered beats as duran duran duran speeds into sight and docks directly into your neurological pathways. tracks swarm into your mind effortlessly dismantling the techno mainframe. refracted acid takes ‘sexus’ to a place where famished ghosts leer at each other across a mist-infused steam room. repeated listenings reveal new fissures, fresh layers emerge as we scrape away at the glacial enormity of this techno scree-face. redemption is in sight as we take a final pasting on ‘marathon man’, a track so banging as to provoke a wry smile on the face of any seasoned raver. at its climax it screeches under the weight of its intensity, flinging its subjects into a feral transcendence.

single sided -
1991-2 revisited.

on the this latest release from power vacuum, a motley selection of inmates gather once more to deliver a new seminar on the mechanics of meltdown. beyond the zone of fruitless intensity lies ever more exhaustive trailer park visionaries blasting out wreck beats, a sound futuristic yet primitive like a turbo charged shire horse. peering through the heavily worked over fug, we sift through the transphonic ashes of technos blast furnace to retrieve these molten ingots and sling them into a disenfranchised cassette player

other than thousands of hardened workers elbow to elbow, pounding sheets of metal, we re in a dead zone - an imaginary sphere extending miles in every direction, devoid of life. volume and vibration drove away all that could sense it, with the remainder of the food chain following.

sonic fissures sizzle the bacon they ain t faking -blow your zip code-. a subterranean world of street wisdom and cosmo-ghettology. sensational spits grit over the grit, keep them swaying as they stagger from grey luminous fog coming in off the atlantic. a cohesive nugget of rolling energy my presidential rolex. kruton whips up jagged shards of rhythm into the air. elaborate thought processes conveyed through instinctive vocal responses cake! weapons grade prana, hooks and bass

hulks of heavy industry lay strewn around, primitive yet shot through with a cracked futurist vision. red rusting mother loads could have lain there for years, a henge to post industrialism. time to open the sluice gate and slide the fetid bulk into the bloated brine of the next high tide. surfing out across the broth its bow breaks the water, sending a long lazy wave like treacle slapping the side of the wharf. slaughter-phonic noises pulsate from within the lead encased carburettor. on the blistered deck great knotted balls of chain lie rusting for ever, atrophied by age and despair

ive been over and over track running orders, while taking into account the limitations of vinyl. it needs to be a loud cut as anything increasing the chances of this music being played in clubs is a priority. the major development is, i d really like the a side at 45rpm, as before. as well as the extra volume, granular psychosis is an exciting prospect to be able to play at both speeds as its so fast. with this track list below, we re exceeding the time slightly for what i ve been advised is the best 45rpm quality. however, as zattrday has such a limited frequency range, that can be cut to take a very small part of the vinyl. i will talk to, about all this, and ultimately go with his advice of the best way to do this on the day. but i can say it will almost definitely happen like one of the two options below

vectors 2 introduces another five new artists to the power vacuum roster: side one erupts with vacated, flinging heavyweight techno ingot *quadrat* neatly into ones medulla oblongata. a road tested club shredder, crashing straight in and out while unequivocally touching the sides. one of uk dance musics true mammoths jerome hill promptly receives the baton and lays down atypical workout *plastic jam*, an overbearingly energetic percussion / vocal rinse. on the other side, cosmic event cylob weighs in with *spyworld*. libidinal bass patterns, irresistible melodies and not a wasted note from one of electros most powerful minds. breakaway civilization of one: anklepants follows with *y.h.i.y.p.* after receiving a free bintus makeover - electro style. finally cornwallis spoken word effluvium *at the disco*, a charmingly rancid personal account to which the prancing oaf in each of us can surely relate.

an ornate globe made with many layers of exotic woods spins on its axis. through the stained glass window diffuse light casts russet hews across the study. looking out over the walled garden to an orchard, great swollen purple and black fruits hang malevolently from mangled moss-covered trees. a gentle wind pushes the tangled branches and as they creak and moan the fruits thud lazily to the ground, gathering in mouldering clusters on the dewy grass.

inside these airless sarcophagi, the passing of time renders objects once forged from molten metals as fragile as paper, so delicate a gust of wind could destroy them for ever. once deadly weapons now oxidised to dust are proof of the futility of man in the face of time. all regimes will crumble over years, all empires turn to dust…the more potent an object in its former life, the more poignancy in its nebulous disintegration. the shattered radio controls, the gun turned to a rusted block like a child s toy, the bullets corroded to nothing are all exiled from their brutal pasts. what messages are locked in time that passed through the obliterated decoding machine, who alive if anyone can tell its secrets.

as a rave icarus turns to his companion and sighs, *we tried to touch the sun my friend, but we got burned...* these tracks leave a trail of scorched earth behind them while you stand bewildered in their smoking wake. nurture your most wayward desires to these sounds coming from god knows where, and inflict them on the innocent as soon as you can.

a column of bull ants moves across the rain forest floor, constantly moving limbs shift like the tidal flow of a river. each carries a large bright leaf in its mandibles maybe twenty or thirty times its size. the column swerves around a tendril-like air duct that services a chamber below. one strays too close and slips down still carrying its leaf. it flies down the air pipe and is projected into the interior of an anechoic chamber. beads of sweat ooze down bintus grizzled brow as he continues experiments into noiseless ultra bass. if applied correctly this acoustic energy can have devastating effects.

reacquainted with his soul after the galactic battle with the gatekeeper of hades, edmx and his craft bulb into view from hyperdrive. emerging from an imperfect stasis, the pilot lay slumped over the controls of his ship. beneath the glaze of his vizor his eyes looked milky white, opaque cataracts had almost sealed them. the craft was being pulled slowly toward sigma orionis on invisible magnetic currents. flurries of dust danced around the pilots window like fireflies. in the far distance the horse head nebulae dwarfs the tiny craft with its mountainous cosmic majesty.

step into brooms dojo and be met with a sausage apocalypse, as the uk techno magus flays alive your wildest dreams using his brace of bangers. with snake-like precision this chimera of the shadow realms pounds techno oblivion from his production line. sparks fly as gleaming loaves of acid-soaked brilliance fly out the bakehouse door, the master bakers eyes spinning like electronic roulette wheels - out of control under delirious bass weight. enshrouded in the blue haze of the shamans gourd pipe, mr mark broom is again set to blow the back doors off any club this side of basildon

like a web of technoidal spaghetti thrown in the face of a non-believer, invincible scum (andy blake / milo smee) lay down a pulsating analog power jam. bintus stitchs together remaining scraps from the cutting room floor, then makes several passes over his philosophers anvil to forge side b. dj support so far: jimmy edgar, objekt, distal, truss, perc, mark broom, cosmo vitelli, eric d clark, holly herndon

in hades no one can hear you scream. vast armies of centurions fight for acid dominion. marching music fills the air, music for the brave. sheets of chemical rain stain the night sky orange and red. cerberus belches out of the night like a shotgun blast to the face.

bintus with corrosion controlwades into an especially grizzled realm of acid house and electro and is the first artist to be released on power vacuum- a new label from milo smee. tracking an irregular path since 95 from techno to prog rock and back again, kruton, binary chaffinch, chrome hoof, 5 mic cluster, booze and invincible scum have been some of the vehicles involved.