Nose Bleed Island
True Story [CS; Singapore Sling]

Hello and welcome to my review of the best tape of 2013. Let me show you around. First, this is where we take a look at the J-card, with the insanely cool retro-future space scene cover artwork by someone called Olga. Inside the card there, we’ll find an insert which gives a brief biography of Nose Bleed Island, detailing the exploits of one Joey Pizza Slice and his band of a cardboard Dracula, a robot, and an 11 year old named Zbear. The story is replete with tales of drunken debauchery, Nazi ass-kicking and an undying and immaculate love of all things pizza. Over here is where I tell you about the perfect little pop tunes that pepper themselves about this retrospective collection of tracks, one of which dates back almost a decade. And here I write about twee in a real general, non-specific sort of way, just to give the review some kind of referential grounding. And then I mention a few bands like Guided By Voices and Beat Happening and early Built to Spill and Sebadoh, and how Nose Bleed Island would probably sneeze on, and then puke over all that stuff after taking a big bite of a rotten piece of pickled pepperoni. Over in this area is where I use the word “infectious,” although I feel bad about using that word, since it is so cliché. So I conclude that Nose Bleed Island is less infectious and more like a serious infection. It’s bruised all black and blue around it, scabbed over and kind of painful, actually, but you can’t seem to quit picking at it, which is gross but in that fun, silly and immature kind of way. And then there’s a bunch of junk in the corner over there. A drum machine, and a Casio keyboard, and a diorama of the solar system, and pizza, a bag of marbles, and getting stood up for the prom, and Obama, and dirty dishes, a VHS copy of “Waterworld” starring Kevin Costner, and drawings of dinosaurs, and poodle skirts, and a pop quiz you got a D- on, and a keepsake from your family’s Disney Land vacation when you were nine. And I guess that’s it, so thanks for coming.


Cerberus seeks to document the spate of home recorders and backyard labels pressing limited-run LPs, 7-inches, cassettes, and objet d’art with unique packaging and unknown sound. We love everything about the overlooked or unappreciated. If you feel you fit such a category, email us here.