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Now Wait For Last Year by Caroline K was originally released in 1985 and is the first time it has been reissued on vinyl. The co-founder of ‘80s sound art project Nocturnal Emissions created an atmospheric and soporific work that would be her only solo album. The synth textures here are perhaps less abrasive than the work she did with Nocturnal Emissions. Original vinyl copies of this have been highly sought after for the last 30 years, so it’s reissue should be a welcome sight.

LP £18.99 BLACKEST050

Remastered LP on Blackest Ever Black / Klanggalerie.

  • Includes download code.
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Now Wait For Last Year by Caroline K
2 reviews. Write a review for us »
8/10 Ant Staff review, 27 April 2016

First ever vinyl reissue of this beautiful, cinematic, narcotic synth LP from 1985. The late Caroline K was half of UK underground industrial duo Nocturnal Emissions along with Nigel Ayres with whom she also co-founded cult label Sterile Records which originally released M.B’s ‘Symphony For A Genocide’ along with stuff from S.P.K., Lustmord etc.

‘Now Wait For Last Year’ was her sole solo album, stripped of the harsher elements of the Nocturnal Emissions material, the LP just oozes a feeling of sadness that instantly connects the listener with the heart of its creator. While there exists an introspective sense of looking deep within, there’s also a widescreen view peering far into the cosmos, into the very fabric of time and space. The LP’s title is taken from a Philip K Dick novel; tales about an addictive hallucinogenic drug that enables time travel. The audio really gives a feeling of a zone without time, as if hovering on the edge of the universe peeking into different worlds but belonging in neither.

Opener ‘The Happening World’ is a spectral 20 minute celestial ambient/ drone piece that hovers between time, existence and nothingness. Beneath a superficially minimal exterior; one that recalls Coil’s classic Time Machines - there’s actually a fair bit going on, with ghostly layers manifesting like submerged subliminal messages.

On ‘Animallattice’ spectral vocal chants flicker like apparitions over muted martial drums and rudimentary yet gorgeous, forlorn synth work. ‘Chearth’ has a real sci-fi movie soundtrack feel, slightly recalling Vangelis’s Bladerunner, cut with this sense of wounded sadness as if an entire world had come to an end. ‘Tracking With Close-Ups’ could almost be proto Artificial Intelligence era Warp or deeply melancholy, ultra stoned Detroit techno with crisp, dry drum machine and melodies that envelope like a cloak spun from silver silk.

Closer ‘Leaving’ is a short but ever so sweet, heart-wrenching farewell, where one can well imagine a psychonaut time traveller saying goodbye to a world/ time/ space to which they’ll never return.

9/10 The Doc Customer review, 10th June 2016

If you were to get David Lynch to direct a film version of one of the REALLY weird Burrough's novels, like Cities Of the Red Night or one of the cut-up trilogy, this is what the score would sound like.

Side A is a single track stretching to twenty two minutes, it's droning, repetitive synths managing the somewhat neat trick of sounding both expansive and claustrophobic at the same time, eerily dissonant yet strangely beautiful. It's a very visual record, widescreen soundscapes conjuring on the one hand visions of a grim and bleak future, while on the other you can picture scenes of strife from the time it was made, dole queues stretching for miles and striking miners getting the fuck kicked out of them by the police. Side B continues in the same vein, more unsettling noise, a menacing throb, the occasional bit of percussion clanking away in the background.

To return to the imagery of film, you could easily run this over the top of Fritz Lang's masterpiece Metropolis and it'd suit the pictures perfectly. It's not an easy listen but it's utterly compelling in a really unsettling way. Brilliant.


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