Seth Kasselman

Mmediate Rolls

Yes! I’m not sure if it’s the city vibe, old movie mood, snake charmer linger, or spontaneity that intrigues me most about Mmediate Rolls by Seth Kasselman. It’s certainly an adventure worth taking, as Seth leads listeners down pathways and alcoves of the improvisational worm hole, straying from the more rock and roll driven music of his band Warm Climate, and focusing more on solo acoustics of a clarinet. So, set the stage for the a journey, prepare to listen to the intent nature of humanity and sound, Mmediate Rolls is all at once completely seasoned with experience and flips it by trying to obtain the original form of building person from music.

The melody is stripped again and again, and throughout, Seth toys with the imaginings of “what’s next,” by way of not even knowing “what’s next” himself. Truth is, it’s always him. It’s the breathe in a note, and motions of change and rhythm. Feeling the resonating wood and soft gusts of air being pushed through. Sustaining Mmediate Rolls is purely of Seth Kasselman’s natural talent. It’s concrete. It’s formed and nuanced. It’s Monday and people gotta feel whimsical, so listen below:

• Seth Kasselman:

Susan Balmar


Susan Balmar, long one of TMT’s favorite beat makers and noise generators, has recently been spotted with LAMPGOD contributing to the Bootleg Tapes dynasty, but last week, he dropped a new full-length for the crazy people at Beer On The Rug. Titled SIGNUM, the 16-track album sees Balmar delving further into the sewers, with sheets of icy, metallic noise rubbing against the fuzzy, out-of-focus catalog of sparse piano, warbling harmonies, stuttering loops, and in-the-bedroom-closet beats, with all the warmth and intimacy of a monitor’s glow.

Check out SIGNUM below, and don’t forget to check out his guest mix from last year. Both are great.

• Susan Balmar:
• Beer On The Rug:

Yom San

playa piano

Within the heart of every dreamer lies forfeit. Eventually, the weight of everything that matters really isn’t as heavy as it could be, so recognition of the immediate becomes drowned out and washed into the backdrop of eyelids. Holy shit, it just took me a minute to realize playa piano by Yom San was entirely sample driven. Not until I was on the Crash Symbols’ website looking at how much the tape was (five buck, btw) did I realize this was sampled and NOT a cover band. This is too intense. Ooo - and I sing “you’s A baby, right?” all the time to my dog Maud, YES! She’s actually my best stoner bud (aside from Grams), and this cover art is TOTALLY her too. Minus the color of the j-card’s coat. I tell her, though, yo, and make it fair, “Maud, if you ask me to order you a pizza in English, I’ll do it!” She’s not interested in evolution.

But Maud keeps it real, ‘cause Yom San do it simple like too. No stings attached. Pure back spin glory. The common the jam, the ultimate head nods, fuckin’ fuckin’ – Super Street Fighter II Ultra on Sega down stairs playing loud, as the babysitter turned the volume up by 20 bars (in this BITCH), flex some playa piano – or something like that – on the reel, and went in your parents bedroom with “a friend” 30 minutes ago. Aye, but you flexing. Maybe go down the block for a soda from that bodega. If Ali working, there’s a Bic in it for a dollar extra for the underage cost, and maybe spark up some trash in the alley. Young living: cassette players taped on handlebars with speakers as worn as them bike seats.

Nothing is stopping youth, playa piano is the elixir, follow Yom San down the path of your mind, when you come out from listening below, you can find the tape on Crash Symbols.

• Yom San:
• Crash Symbols:

Sleaford Mods

“Tie Up In Nottz”

There is a strange paralysis gripping those people stuck somewhere between Birmingham and Berwick-Upon-Tweed in this potentially un-United Kingdom. It’s a crisis of political language and of capacities to dream new futures, but mostly it’s a crisis based on a legacy of Thatcherite destruction (yes, you too, Tony, you smarmy fuck); first the material tenets of a state that working people built, and then the very rungs of its ‘safety net.’ It’s a paralysis made all the more acute by the fact that no matter how radical Scottish independence may turn out, the notion that it will ‘inspire’ The North (never mind the Midlands) to take similarly progressive steps seems like a cold comfort. This is not enough in itself to vote ‘No,’ but when the cultural output accompanying independence gets lost in “platitudinous liberalism,” or seems to just treat ‘culture’ as a middle-class museum piece with a crucially high price-tag – a pretty piece in Scotland’s economic puzzle – it’s fair to be concerned. Luckily, Sleaford Mods have found their own political language, a sewer of FUCKS, wit and rage, flowing through the cracks of a Britain deemed ‘broken’ so that it was just that bit easier to sell-off.

The bus, the pervasive grey damp, the circling pummels of a post-punk backing track; all indexing a familiar Midlands/Northern experience, environments built with love and exasperation. Sleaford Mods let you scream each line back at yourself, a cathartic deliverance aimed at a world where the problem is not exposing the fact that everything is fucked (that’s evident), but finding a way to move beyond analysis when every critique just underlines the fact of our desperation. There is what Zizek might call a ‘Divine Violence’ to songs like “Tied Up In Nottz,” not a simple revenge, or a calculated move towards political goals, but a Popeye’s Spinach can of rage for your post-fordist anomie. Songs to make you feel ready to punch through walls. Of course, the Mods would stick up two e-cigarette-smoked fingers at such academic wankery, each tune on recent singles collection “Chubbed Up” and last album “Austerity Dogs” doubling as a sonic bullshit-detector for our (my?) personal lapses into the dying language of the ‘undergraduate humanities student.’ This is an eruption from a world that politicians in London and Edinburgh seem to be willfully constructing as a ‘desolate’ foil to their Capital dreams. In such times we remember that hope rarely comes with a 10 point prospective, and though (or perhaps because) “Tied Up In Nottz” is all derision, destruction, and post-colonal screaming, Sleaford Mods are a fucking life-line.

“Tied Up In Nottz” is taken from the new Sleaford Mods album Divide and Exit, ‘out soon’ on Harbinger Sound.

• Sleaford Mods:
• Harbinger Sound:

Chocolate Grinder Mix 102

Almost Everything

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CHOCOLATE GRINDER is our audio/visual section, with an emphasis on the lesser heard and lesser known. We aim to dig deep, but we'll post any song or video we find interesting, big or small.