Sludge & Tripe

by Perhaps Contraption

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  • Streaming + Download

    During this hour (that is both beautiful & horrendous) Perhaps Contraption swill a ferocious soup of meticulously mathematical avant-rock, explosive free-jazz improvisations, soaring soundscapes and twisted anti-folk.

    Full artwork, recording notes and photos are included with each download.

    Here is an immediate download of 16-track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    This avant-rock DIY, RIO monolith is available in a beautiful heavy-duty gatefold packaging, complete with 8 page booklet & detailed, illustrated recording notes.

    The package also includes an immediate download of 16 track album in your choice of 320k mp3, FLAC, or just about any other format you could possibly desire.
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(free) 04:04
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06:09
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(free) 03:43
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04:16
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(free) 05:23
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(free) 03:32
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about

"Throw in a whiff of English whimsy here, Zappa’s lyrical madness and Sleepytime Gorilla Museum's convoluted addiction to time changes. A dose of noise and puerility there (and prodigious musical talent) and you have an album that surprises and confounds." - Sittingnow.co.uk

"Sludge & Tripe" was recorded painstakingly between 2004 and 2008 in a number of derelict houses, basements and studios around London and Bristol, the collective's first album was then stitched together into a twisting, confronting DaDa-rock pronk-pop adventure. Compositions both ape and destroy conventional song structures, as spanners are dexterously jammed into the works.

Flirting between ferocious free-jazz improvisations, studio wizardry and meticulously mathematic performances, the album traverses a bizarre progressive landscape while still retaining pop-infused sensibilities. This provides footholds for the ear to cling to, before being pummelled with acrid rubble…

Ramblings about Sludge and Tripe

"A grotesque, unsettling oddity, this dadaesque fever dream of an album has ‘potential cult hit’ daubed across its flanks in florescent orange paint, a collision of freeform jazz, progressive rock, funk, folk, country, alt rock and experimental poetry, brought together with playful abandon. " - Robert Sayce planet-loud.com

“Sludge and Tripe” is jaw-dropping stuff that excites; delights and disturbs in equal measure. Jack-knifing between the abrasiveness of Birthday Party and Gallon Drunk, the left-field inventiveness of Beefheart and Zappa, the music hall grotesque of Tiger Lillies, knockabout flute salads reminiscent of pixie-era Gong, the jazz artistry of Henry Cow the operatic heavy metal of System of a Down and a touch of good old English whimsy, “Sludge and Tripe” is an exhilarating distillation of the innovative, the dextrous and the downright clever
-terrascope.co.uk

“A Hardboiled musical treasure” - ORGAN

"Dense and elaborate, almost airless" - The Sound Projector

"Skronking, blattering improv jazz, (with) dreamy choruses exploding into angular pointillist funk and horn-ridden pronk. Yessir, we be deep in oddball territory here. " - Bad Acid Magazine

"A hugely challenging but ultimately rewarding listen." -Echoesanddust.com

"music exploring the extraordinary realms" - progarchives.com

"to my ears it just sounds like an incoherent mess" -aidabet.com

credits

released April 1, 2010

On Sludge& Tripe, Perhaps Contraption, Consist of

Squier Squier (vocals, guitar, flute, clarinet)

DeeDee Window (drums, percussion, vocals)

Pimi Mayfair (Bass, vocals)

Jack Attack (guitar, on 5, 7, 9, 10,11,16)

Mathew Johnston (Bass, Vocals on 5, 7,9,10,12)


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Most of it written & churned around/up by this thing called Perhaps Contraption.
1,2,3,4,11,13,14 written, arranged & obsessed over by Squier Squier.

Tracks 3,4,6,7,11,15 & 16 were mixed & produced by Squier Squier with Andy Ramsey at Press Play, London, early 2008.
Track 12 produced by the Junk Scientist, summer 2005.
Tracks 5, 7 & 9 produced by Jeff Spencer Autumn 2004.

All the rest produced & fiddled by Squier Squier in various bedrooms.

Mastered by Alan Emptage, London, Winter 09/10.

Artwork by Dee Dee Window and Squier Squier
Album design by Squier Squier with the help of Daniel Ross. www.thisnow.co.uk

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11 inspired by (the SUN) Carl Sagan & Death
15 " " diuretic effects of hot drinks.
16 " " blind faith, Chris Morris & social sludge
6 influenced by Export Processing Zones
7 " " Joe Snow & sensationalist media tripe
1 " " by stinky, bamboozling London
12 " " effusive friends & unashamed spontenaity

The rest inexorably pummeled by Sludge&Tripe, guitar landfill & equine hostility & various garnishes.

"brain dead kinds, swill life's brine"

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tags

about

Perhaps Contraption London, UK

Avant-Rock / Post-Classical / Jazz-Punk / Marching Band / Something /

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Track Name: The Old Dispensary
we're Freezing, we're Free, load ing
at the Old Dispensary.
And if you're in love, get it fixed quick.

We're busy bodies, with our, containers
and our keys
and well didn't you know?
If you're ugly you can get it fixed quick.


The chickens are all on chemicals
The public are all on chickens
The future's on the public
And it's a chemical chicken public future
the has me
Quaking
It's a CHEMICAL CHICKEN PUBLIC FUTURE
that I've been, DREAMING OF.

At the Old Dispensary,
you can deposit your thoughts for free.
Still moving where we want to be.
Tenacity is most healthy.

The 25 (London Bus) rumbles, chicken, litter by.
Still drunk, giddy, in the bends.
Battery raised HUMANS
with no room to flap our tongues.
Free to roam within our own filth.
I'm searching for fleeting sanctuary
behind pink doors.
The beaks cluck and I dream of more applause.
Track Name: Bluebells
I went to town but it's always wet weather.

I went up church but it's full of cheap weddings.

I eat bluebells and I always chose the best.

(Wet weddings, cheap weather)

I dig up bush and it's leg sting nettles.

I dig her looks and it's gut flutter pleasure.

Picking bluebells and I do so carefully.

(Gut nettles, sting pleasure)

Chorus

Walking on eggshells, the youth in bloom I smell the smell of sweet bluebells. X 2

I fell in love with you. So whatcha' gonna say, whatcha' gonna do? X 2

Bluebells. Eggshells. Spread youngly far and wide. I'd known, we'd grown, melt amber on our eyes.

With time, we'd bind, tear do turn into butterflies.

Eggs on Sunday and then maybe tears later.

Carving on bark and then smiling feels greater.

I pick bluebells and I do so carefully.
Track Name: Hard Cutlery
You're always being boring about Old BORING
and
if you don't like it then,
"THROW IT OUT"

In the cheap office, there's a woman pushing a cart of steel with cakes atop
"THEY"RE FREE"
One woman says -
"stop imagining and bite down on Hard "Cutlery"
oh
Hard Cutlery
It's so nice to be in side my fridge
Well, we're all looking sharp, we're all looking smart.

Semi- asleep there's an Organ Playing
(bah bah da bahhhh)
You're bored again and these lights are giving you a headache.
You're always looking for somewhere to eat your breakfast.
One thinks, I should, retire to the kitchen.

Hard Cutlery
It's so nice to be inside, your MOUTH
well, we're all looking sharp, we're all looking smart,
the LENGTH, the BREADTH,
Sharpen your CUT-TER-LER-REE

Bite down on hard cutlery.

(studio vocal improv story, relating to a priest, in the garden, arranging eating implements)

SHOUT. Neigh.

In the morning I'm fishing for sluts in the plughole.
"IT STINKS"
Some old codger extracts the Michael
("you taking the piss out ' o me mate?)
And all,
Packaging,
BREAKS (oh)

Hard cutlery, it's so nice to be, so WORN. yeah.
Well, were all looking sharp, were all looking smart.

The LENGTH, The BREADTH,
Sharpen your Cutlery.

(your breakfast)
Track Name: Swan's Regal Birdbath
"squawk"
Track Name: Tetrahedron
Tetrahedron

(thanks be to the our illustrious media..for Joe, son of Chris.)

Tetrahedron

Choked a fat swan.

Tetrahedron choked a fat swan.

A pathogenic cuboid, lodged in swan's neck, swan was utterly, utterly depressed.

A pathogenic cuboid, lodged in a crevice, causing tracheal damage.

He was flapping feathers flapping, breaking children. Flapping feathers breaking childrens arms.

Swan did feel wrong.

Choked for this long.

Swan did feel wrong choked for this long.

Beaky chatter..

Swan did squawk like an old kazoo.

Frayed fins oiled like leather.

What's an old swan meant to do? When you can't, control, the weather.

Queen was most distressed, with this state of affairs.

The regal bird brain made the pond drain, and all the cameras stared. Oh.

Tetrahedron.

Foreign legion.

Lighthouse beacon.
Track Name: Swank
Idiosyncratic Particle Mother.
Strained Spliced Rice that is weaved for cover.
A little BEEF and in it some sugar,
will make a meal for a corporate lover.

Mother succumbs to her battery jacket
wraps her siblings in a factory packet
she wants to take them to the fair
all of the treats and the corpses are there.

Tie's as straight as a die, your teeth are so white, your looking just right
(SWANKY GREEDY BREATH)
and it's all so pretty on the Sun...
(DAY YEARS LEFT)
and underneath, smells the foul sight of
(FIRE OVER THE HILL)

Move's made, pleasantly pleasantly over you
Time's come, desperately for something new.
Endlings of Isn't (look at the wisdom)
It's clearly Broken

(the wisdom is broken)

The subject of this song makes us feel very angry
EX - PLOIT - ED
(and they're blood is all over your wretched desk)
Track Name: Globule, Follicle
(join our club) ---conceptual continuity from Sir Quiche Rots.
Track Name: Mum is your Dad (& your DAD is your MUM)
Mum is your Dad and your Dad is your Mum.

Being alive, is such fun, but you don't know when your going to die.

That's ok, were having fun, but we still don't know when we're going to die.

(All) DEAD

Hands holding hands, and glands kissing glands, keep things from being irrevocably bland.

(All) BLAND

Dead fun.

Thanks to the sun for smelling sweetly and breathing chums.

It's wiser, to know that, mum's your dad and your dad is your mum.

Mum is your dad and your dad is your mum.

Monotony isn't really much fun.

Dad is your mum and your mum's your dad.

Where folly is faulty and dying is dead,

It's wiser to know that you don't know there's nothing at all.

It's nice to show that you do know you're having a ball.

It's harder to grow on the thought that your arbitrary.

One day we'll be rotting slowly.

Buried under your feet.

One day I will be rotting slowly, rotting slowly buried under your feet.

Soon you all will be dead and buried dead and buried dead and buried.

Wiser to know that you don't know there's nothing at all.

Harder to grow on the thought that your arbitrary.
Track Name: Mumma's Shoes
Mumma's Shoes

Twas a shiny special day, Mumma's going crabbing..

(All) She loves those crabs

Trundling to the water, she, realised her line did not have

(All) Any string

So instead the choice was, to, dip in her laces instead

(All) With bacon bait!

Blistering tugs from down below, the wrath of a mighty crustacean!

(All) Oh no no!

Chorus Part 1

My mumma ain't got no shoes, my mumma ain't got no shoes, they're down below

(All) They're down below

With the Crabs

(All) With the crabs

They are deep, deep down with the crabs... (repeat x 1)

Mother dived in, so, petrified and upset

(All) Down she went

Searching for her footwear, with, so many years she had spent

(All) Drips and Drabs

Pushing apart the seaweed, and, other aquatic organisms

(All) Push shove push

Unearthing, to her surprise, a beautiful pair of boots

(All) Yeah, Yeah Yeah

Chorus Part 2

My mumma ain't got no shoes, my mumma ain't got no shoes, she got boots

(All) She got what?

She got boots

(All) She got boots

She got boots, boots, boots she got boots... (repeat x1)

Celestial interlude

Chorus Part 2 (repeat x 3)
Track Name: Hydraulic Legs
Little Michael's got, hydraulic legs, and he's got 4 hours to spare.
Ingenious devices. Don't get them wet.
Keep well oiled to prevent, upsets.

Nobody likes it. When machines. Go WRONG
(nobody likes it)
There's an awful lot of, muh muh muh muh muh muh
sha sha sha sha SHA sha, Sha sha shuh shuh shu CHINES

Flip switch data patents
Pistons bleeps and buttons
Wrap 'em up in our 5/10 pound notes
and close all our curtains.

21 years around the SUN again
but there are lies and fears in the hearts of men
We are all moving closer to extinction.

Little Michael's, still got hydraulic legs
and he's got just under 4 hours to spare.
Won't heed the scientists,
they'll have him DEAD.

Remains incredulous to prevent, upsets.
We are all moving closer to extinction.
(moving closer to extinction)
(years around the SUN again, lies and fears in the hearts of men)

Legs he's got, hydraulic (ALL repeat)

and i would like to meet some more people like him.
Track Name: Coffee Tea?
Coffee makes you shit. Tea makes you pee.

(that's it really)
Track Name: Make it come out GREEN
Verse 1

Some people get so high on, drugs, they make their head, erode, they eat their own coffins, coffins, coffins, coffins.

Brains can create so much, fun, I make mine really numb by kissing television, television, television.

Some people get so high on all, equals, green stained kingdom some, people get so lost on all reasons, faith is poison.

And hello, the cere, the bellum, is shiny, and ripe like, the bad fruit, and fit for, a slicing...

Chorus

Doctor, Father, can you make it come out green?

You make the coffin look cleaner than bad memes, can you make it come out green? You make the coffin look cleaner, coffins, cleaner, coffins..

Verse 2

One day I had to be so brave to lie in my own grave, I had to bear the pressure, pleasure, ultra-leisure.

Some people do it with a cross, they're labelling the lost, "We have to get to heaven" Hello Cerebellum.

Some people get so high on all, equals, green stained kingdom some, people get so lost on all reasons, faith is poison.

And hello, the cere, the bellum, is shiny, and ripe like, the bad fruit, and fit for, a slicing...

(With Gusto)

Some people get so high on, drugs, they make their head, erode, they eat their own coffins, coffins, coffins, coffins.

Some people do it with a cross, they're labelling the lost, "We have to get to heaven" Hello Cerebellum.

Some, People, Get so lost on all, reasons, Faith is poison.

Chorus