In anticipation of this weekend's Raw Power shindig in London, a spot of hazy-eyed Krautrock with a crispy electro-topping from the excellent The Oscillation.
Sentiment expressed on Facebook could now be a factor in calculating your credit rating.
Anyone who's ever worked in the grey zone where journalism - or content-production, as we call it now - dissolves into marketing will relish John Oliver's heroically off-message comments here.
We know nothing about Mazes, except that they have a new album on the way and sound like Girls Against Boys vs The Fall. We don't even know if they're from Salford, though the fact that they've named their new single after Manchester's most fertile suburb (we've never actually been there) suggests they probably are. It's not necessarily important. Here's the latest instalment in Manchester M3's endlessly extended mythology...
Twenty-eight years ago this weekend you could have witnessed this extraordinary - in several respects - line-up at the Reading Festival. As, in fact, we did.
Cardiacs - skulking away down there at the bottom of Sunday's bill - were/are an unclassifiably brilliant hybrid of all rock's most eccentric impulses, played by people whose lives appeared to depend on their ability to reach the note after next. In 2010 Cardiacs' creator Tim Smith suffered a heart attack after watching the reformed My Bloody Valentine. That story's here. Squint your ears and you can feel their influence in everything from Blur to Devin Townsend. As Wire magazine recently noted, though they've been mysteriously written out of history, theirs is the real story of England's hidden reverse. Here's our favourite moment:
Excitingly, we wangle our way into yer actual world premiere of the first film written by (rather than adapted from the work of) Alan Moore. It's called Show Pieces. The great magus of Northants is on hand to discuss it. Early impressions are of a more mythopoeically-inclined Black Mirror. Or Twin Peaks relocated to the midlands. The plan, says Moore, is to develop it into a series for TV. We liked it. Here's where it's happening on your local thought-monitoring service. The trailer's on the way...
Alan Moore: he knows the score.
And in a post-script to the previous post - even though it's abundantly clear that you haven't even looked at that yet - here's our friend Adrian Specs writing in the Rocking Vicar about the mysterious appeal of repetition in music.
What we were hoping to bring you today was a clip or two from the hypnotic new album by unsung heroes of trance-inducing Krautrock Ziguri who, just in case there was any doubt about the matter, helpfully describe themselves here as purveyors of 'trance-rock from Berlin-Kreuzberg'. Alas, YouTube hasn't yet caught up with new album Kolsch-Scirkhert-Erdenreich (these being the surnames of those involved) so below is the mysteriously titled Pyramid Self Help System from 1997.
While we're on this sort of mesmeric t(r)ip, here's the magnificently mechanised groove of Japanese experimentalists Nisennenmondai, whose new album N does one thing - and one thing only - for 39 minutes and 16 seconds. Here is that thing, in its entirety: