Thu. 13 August 2020
Recyclart
Doors at 18:00

KRAAK x Swallowing Helmets Dual Release Nite

KRAMP, Martirio, Red Brut, Weird Bitch

The long-awaited celebration of confinement era releases on the realest beach in the city: we finally get to present KRAMP and his Nervous Rattles, as our buddies from Swallowing Helmets also honor their latest Scanty Canteen Music 4-way 12" via the electronic nihilism of new oldies Martirio.

~ Corony-imposed rules do apply, meaning: limited capacity ("full is full" and all that), mandatory seatings, mandatory mask whenever you're not attached to your chair. Get there early, the beer is swell and the food is dope ~


KRAMP

Two months after its release, KRAMP's debut album Nervous Rattles finally gets some physical props: Stijn Wybouw summons his crimson doppleganger to unleash waves of ancestral rhythms and loops digested by dusty tape entrails and channeled through the booming fuzz of a disturbingly oversized bass amp. Red-faced demons made to swarm Manchester plage, some Fantasia shit is going down!

Martirio

Two of the Brussels scene's most feared PA terrorizers join forces in an unholy matrimony that Satanas himself would disown. Ernesto Bear Bones and David Cl├ębard channel some mean darkness through warped synth exertions and unflinching beats that writhe under your skin like some high-voltage creeper. Suffering succotash, in an almost religious sense ~ part of the Swallowing Helmets 4-track 12" Scanty Canteen Music release, alongside a worthy crew of self-declared martyrs.

Red Brut

Rotterdam's finest collagist has just come out with a new stunner: Red Brut's Cloaked Travels LP has been a source of wonder and solace during this eternal hole-up. The sounds emanating from Marijn Verbiesen's cosmoses subtly but confidently hop between tangible fields and visionary realms, transforming and transfixing through their chimerical familiarity. Songs for another world fasure.

Weird Bitch

First Belgian show by star-crossed banshees: Weird Bitch is one half of Guttersnipe and a full Slaylor Moon whose sound witchery expels pulsating waves of ominous electronix, sprinkled here and there with spastic flourishes of twisted dance ciphers and washed over by vocals probably dug up from an underwater alien pod somewhere in Nova Scotia. Contorted limbs for some necromantic table dancing!