Psychedelia

Anonymity has become both a gift and a curse for the blogosphere — a “gift” for feeding our hunger, and a “curse” for, well, not informing us as to who is feeding us. Burial has the world eating out of his hand, picking and choosing various publications access and admitting truths like “only five people know I make tunes.” Argh. And then there are the artists that leave you a message that reads: “If you are wondering who we are, we will soon reveal all.. we are planning some wonderful all night parties, we wear belts with huge buckles and we play the best music ever.

Robedoor is the duo of Alex: slime, knives and distortion, and Notnotfun label head honcho Britt on fire, howls and cloaks...
Hmmm... but what does all that mean, sonically? Well, precisely what you might imagine. A blackened drone drenched world of slime and knives and fire, dense clouds of distorted howls, a thick cloak of fuzz and buzz wrapped around the proceedings like a thick, well, cloak! Actually this is a lot prettier than you might imagine. That is, if your idea of pretty includes tons of low end and a world of slow motion doomdrone.

Read more about Robedoor on Last.fm.

A more charismatic, enigmatic nomad of a furioso frontman/artist/guitar legend could not be imagined. You can

There are several artist go by or have gone by the name, The Factory: 1) "Why don't you come and see us play" said a group of young musicians to BRIAN CARROLL at a summer party back in 1967. The FACTORY were three boys from Surrey in England at the height of Jimi Hendrix and the whole flower power fantasy of the summer of love. Through the haze of cities covered in smoke from a generation that was expanding their minds came thousands of groups and musicians waiting for the break that would take them from a seedy club to a recording contract.