In which Leyland Kirby progresses / regresses to Stage 4 (of 6!) of his 'Everywhere At The End Of Time' series as The Caretaker. Things are getting really serious now; not that Dementia is a stroll in the park. Traversing scratchy 78s and blurred music hall memories, the ongoing saga becomes more fragmented, refracted and glitchy to reflect the brain's increasingly sluggish and stuttering processes. The first in the series to arrive as a double LP, containing 90 minutes of music this time. Limited release on History Always Favours The Winners.
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Feeling dizzy and confused? Disorientated and discombobulated? No, well you clearly haven’t navigated a Leeds dual carriageway in today’s torrents and flooding but that’s OK because The Caretaker is here and he’s going to make sure you feel all these things and more, via his now-infamous ‘Everywhere At The End Of Time’ series. We’ve gone a little beyond ‘creaky’, now we’re at Stage 4 -- you’ve been warned, prepare to be properly spooked; although it's not like I need to tell you any of this; as the majority of you likely know the ways of this Leyland Kirby chap. Or as I now like to call him, but not usually in public: Glitchy McGlitchface.
This one is a seething mass of chaotic, inter-washing disturbances: sad, lonely horns and music hall crooners via 78s distorted to buggery; very loud static akin to radio noise.. It's both the literal sonic representation and the metaphorical interference of onward-marching modern life encroaching into the now-constant streams of fractured memories. So. All the technology ever invented in the whole world is threatening to crush you. Sounds a bit bleak. But we’re at that stage, now: everything is warped, and here are the sounds -- both in (just about) living memory and currently occurring -- that someone of pensionable age in 2018 might have experienced in their lives up until now, often all at the same time. And that’s just side A of this double LP.
Sigh. There are a further 3 tracks and 65 minutes to go. Clue: more broken-up muted horns, the occasional piano and the odd violin amongst frankly terrifying walls of doom-laden, wrong-speed noise. Wrong because it’s too slow or too fast, I don’t know which maybe both concurrently but it’s all so scarily ominous and perhaps this is how my future dementia-stricken self will feel, one day; and of course, how millions feel, have felt and will feel, all around the world. People need care. Take care when listening, while I can conceive of nothing better to do than shrug all that’s come before and all that might or might not happen, with a… shrug. Of my actual, ageing and aching shoulders. Can’t wait for the inevitable further decay of Stage 5.
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