Archive for the ‘the new album’ Tag

Gees grist wheeze   3 comments

Spin, spin!

Yes, the cheapest place on the net to buy the rarer-than-fuck 100FTW vinyl edition The New Album isn’t even on the net, if you’re a localist! It’s Mill Road’s most brilliant general ‘n’ electrical emporium of bits & bobs H. Gees! Ten quid! And, as much as I chuckle at seeing in the window, it would be great if it wasn’t there one day…




Many thanks to matey at Gees for his kind indulgence of my tedious folly or whatever.

Kid Shirt pagebundle New Album review   Leave a comment

Hope Kek doesn’t mind me shortcutting the conceptual purity of the original thang but if Jo Mouse gets any fatter she’ll have that baby and we always have to mumble Kubin’s mantra:





I had this dream the other night that Kek put on a No-Wave fest in Yeovil called No-Ville. I actually did.

Thanks again man.

He’s here:

and elsewhere too. Has great ears, I like to think, and always ahead of a curve you haven’t even heard about.

And in case you can’t see that, because I barely can:



Posted September 12, 2012 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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“Secret Thirteen Mix 024”   Leave a comment

Oh yeah, caught up in the self-love of the post the other day about getting the big-ups from Ekolad I neglected to add an additional straw on the camel with this mix he’s done, featuring Mortal Song from Can’t Get Started in some illustrious company innit…

Love that pic of Nick.

And he’s a such a Discogs dog he’s even added my new record to the great database in the sky, which if you’ve never done it is a bit of a pain so much appreciated again dude!

Eko chamber   Leave a comment

Ha, today I’m standing outside the pharmacy in Fulbourn with the dude I’m working with, watching the rain piss down and waiting for it to stop doing so, and against support-worker protocol I have a sneaky look at Twitter, and even though it isn’t @peteum the first thing I clock is this:


Now, aforementioned supported-chap has occasional epileptic episodes that manifest as him trancing out and repetetively rocking his body and repeating a phrase with some vigour, and one of these hits him as we’re standing there, but because I’m so seduced by the above bizarrely out-of-context affirmation of my obscure genius in tiny text on my mobile device, my perception is wholly tunnelling down towards that, and not-at-all focusing on my immediate surroundings. Therrfore it actually takes me a little while to realize that there is actually a Real Life, and that it is someone in it right next to me saying the words:


And then there we both are, suddenly readjusting to what passes for our respective realities.

Anyway, not written by the man Loki himself but occasional contributor/Twitpuppet Ekolad, the guy that makes all those records, and had the improbable industry in him to write:


Not enough people seem to be aware that Pete Um is a musical/lyrical genius.

And he cooks a mean goat curry.

Buy this record.

There’s a only a 100 copies.

One day everyone will realise what a genius Pete Um is, and then your record will be worth loads of money and you can sell it, pay off the mortgage, take early retirement, etc.

Everyone will be a winner.

Yes, one day, we will all be winners…

Not sure about the genius or the mortgages, but the curry is unassailably amazing and I do stand by the scarcity value argument also. And thanks Nick!

Posted August 30, 2012 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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Norman's Brian's Psychiatric Assessment   1 comment

Bless Brian at Norman for taking the time to sum up the Um sound or whatever.

He gives The New Album 5 stars and sez:

There’s not many British eccentrics as wonderful and awe-inspiringly mad as our Pete Um. His scattershot irreverent prose, weirdo-raps and surrealist sound-sculptures are pretty distinctive, I feel, and have a place in the marginal DIY art performance world inhabited by anyone from Ergo Phizmiz to Felix Kubin or The Rebel. I cannot easily start dissecting this gibbering new record of his. It’s like trying to psycho-analyse what goes on in David Shrigley’s head but with more LSD and gleeful irrelevance involved thus making the task a head-hurtingly impossible one.

This crazy man produces ace junk shop electronic pop/cabaret gems with more life, humour and imagination than is decent for such an endeavour, he really doesn’t give a fuck, man and I love him a great deal! I wonder if there is actually a book around in the inky-sphere with some of his writings in, he never floods his music with too many syllables and seemingly ad-libs, mutters, croons or freestyles rather than merely narrating. From lo-fi hobo gutter grooves to sinister, warped Jam-like head-fuckery, this is one mentalist journey that will leave you some place between delighted, terrified and perplexed.

Cheers mate. Hope you sell them!


Pete Um Bandcamp   2 comments


Dave was telling me I ought to sort one of these out, and he was right. Should have the vinyl for The New Album ready soon too.

Posted June 20, 2012 by peteum2013 in Uncategorized

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Bless Nochexxx   1 comment

Bless Dave he’s got round to sorting out the oft-threatened selectation duties for a new Um release, cos he reckons he can do the honours better than me or anyone else. Last week he sent me a 22 minute mix saying it was more or less definitive but last I heard (yesterday) he was on about a 3XLP! Anyway he sent some documentation pix to illustrate his dubious labour. Any you don’t recognise?






Posted August 22, 2010 by peteum2013 in Ascoltare, Nochexxx, old songs, pete um

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Lone Stromblone review of some Um works (old news)   Leave a comment

Just found this in an old folder. Never even met this chap but I was extremely grateful when he wrote this stuff.

 Review: Um, “The Old Album”, “The New Album”, “Giraffe”.


Feeling a bit mad? Why not push your luck and optimise the state with some “UM” therapy? Treat your self to the black hilarity of this festival of intrepid linguistrobatics and exploratory solitude. One day, you’ll be out on a flimsy limb. After all, in the end, we are all alone.

Best prepare. Let Um take you there.

Strategy 1. “The Old Album”.
Not desperately old at all, (no date supplied in the sleeve notes, but suspected to have been created in 2002) this collection remains, to my ears, ever as fresh as a daisy-fed spring chicken. Comprising twenty-six works and no space fillers, deftly straddling the gulf between high art and low doggerel, “The Old Album” proffers a wealth of compelling and original lyrical content and poetry. Encircling the lost and subtle concerns of a life spent in too much thinking, the vocal element is set to noises which one can only describe as music, while knowing this biscuit-tin terminology to give cruel short shrift to the nature of the sweetmeats therein contained. The works of “Um” will touch the heart, soul and moist, dark, private corners of anybody who has been all the way out there and plans never to return (should they find themselves fortunate enough to have retained a modicum of volition).

Sonically singular, audibly angular, Pete Um and his associates meticulously dismember and reduce the status quo into “Status: Question”, leaving no turn unstoned. Drawing on an apparently endless variety of voices, Um’s choice of subject matter has a limitless span.

“Pathological Abstention” opens with a philosophical monologue in a Dickensian style, whether originally the product of Dickens, Um or of some other source, I cannot say. The skilled, thespian delivery of this Crowleyan imperative relates to the facing of fear, and to the importance of following one’s own path. It reveals a further taught string to Um’s bow, and a further demonstration of the philosophy of the way of Um:

“…..Only a little extra effort is required of you,
And you can travel again, soon,
This time under your own flag,
And all the better to stick your dread animal in the eye,
And to come full circle,
And understand the meaning in the pattern of the footsteps.”

The backing music to these works stands largely at the front, and comprises a rich feast of the unexpected and peculiar. Layer upon layer of interspersed sonic bites of the world, the mechanical, the bestial and the interminable take turns to leap to stage-front, each adorned with eclectic companions, each group elbowing it’s predecessor into the wings. The lyrics cascade, prolific and pregnant, pungent and palpitating. The result, rhythmic yet frantic, bassy yet jangling and fractious, evokes exposure to a storm of bomb-shattered chandeliers while floundering to break to the surface in an ocean of tepid porridge, laced with Tabasco and scotch bonnet peppers. Tasty, exhilarating and very,
very odd.

Generous with treats and of surprises, “The Old Album” leaves one no longer able to acknowledge former concepts of satisfaction. New needs have been born, goalposts have moved. The record and CD purchases of decades find themselves carted to multi-storey car parks and playing fields on Sunday mornings, for humane destruction via car boot sales, their contents no longer pertinent in this brave new world of blissful uncertainty.

Strategy 2. “The New Album”.
With no consideration for conventions of a musical, social or any other variety, Um forges on into further dark corners of the human psyche. Many undiscovered clefts await the disruptive illumination of this Promethean mischief maker, a true Lucifer, a bringer of light into the musical pantheon. Western humanity, should it be blessed to peek behind the veil of Um-ness, may lose all will to continue in the unthinking consumption and acquisition of prestige kitchens, cars and canned convenience comestibles.

I don’t know what the Cambridge Borough Council adds to it’s local water supply, but Pete Um has drunk his fill, and gone back for seconds, to return puddinged out, to “normal life”, wearing multicoloured fly’s eye spectacles, controversial, contraventional, contrapuntal, and deep as fuck.

The sounds and substance in these pieces have been drawn from sources often left wisely undisturbed, for fear of the legs, wings and mandibles threatening to lash out, to ensnare, usurp and corrupt reason itself. These recordings manage to appear, at times deceptively sweet and homely, suddenly flipping into the utterly, gigglingly, insane or paranoid, threatening the very foundations of reason, logic and stability. I rather doubt that Cliff Richard would approve, let alone Anne Widdecombe (together they’d surely make a lovely couple, some very scary noises, and a fearsome offspring).

This second CD contains twenty-five pieces, all equally ground breaking as those of its predecessor. The breadth of subject matter has expanded yet further, and the range of approaches to delivering Um’s infernal anti-doctrine has broadened in proportion. Everything else is deliciously out of proportion. If you have yet to expand your mind, I am confident that Um can assist you considerably in this quest. In the words of some other committed space explorer “When a man goes to the moon and back and can say that it didn’t affect his life, well…..he must have been looking the other way”. Stand by to repel all boredom. Fuzzy redheads will never appear the same to you again.


Strategy 3. “Giraffe”.
Pete Um’s latest offering was eagerly awaited, and once received, reached all the parts missed or scorned by the other two albums. This time we are treated to no less than thirty-two phyla of this rare genus. Many Giraffe-related etymological and biological questions, toward which my limited private library failed even to lean, have been answered for me by the sleeve notes. We could all learn a lot from the Giraffe.

Each track is enigmatically subtitled, with the sleeve notes offering some interpretation. Many mysteries remain, teasing the brain with modes of possible meaning. Tense and frantic, Um spins out lyrics in a quasi-familiar language, twisted and morphed via a hall of wavy, fractured mirrors, “I sit in a furnace, abusing my buggins, scaring myself, with the power of the biro”, from “Too Old For Sports (ginners)”, and from “A Last Blast (snarp)”, the linguistic impishness continues with “Let’s quit Sodom……(or perhaps “Lets quit, sod ’em”?)..we’ll go tomorrah”. This linguistic fecundity, coupled with Pete’s dry, straight-faced delivery, yields gems like “You may take your time like the cow you are, but you make sweet milk with your guitar.” from “Ghost (mutter)”.

May those who consider themselves sane be compelled to look long and hard into the abyss of their sham comforts and curios. May they gasp in horror as they glimpse the insubstantial nature of their worldly props. All that went before is now unworthy of it’s having gone-ness (excluding “The New” and “The Old” albums, naturally).

“Giraffe”, predictable only in it’s family resemblance to the unmistakable style of the previous collections, supports my opinion that Pete can write a highly entertaining lyric about anything, and can hang anything he produces, securely, onto a sonic backdrop which supports, lifts and separates, and crosses the heart and mind of the listener in all directions.

His unparalleled and ruthless play-tech style continues to hound the wibbly-wobbly world of the Blair establishment, confounds the inherited wisdom of musical production and not only pushes the envelope of sonic and literary creativity, but seals it, pops a stamp on it, and recklessly entrusts it to the rigours of our ever-dubious postal services, all the way to the primary portals of our squishy brains and our flimsy domiciles.


Strategy 4. “The Unholy Trinity?”.
For reasons too convoluted to be expanded upon, I have experimented with playing both “Giraffe” and “The Old Album” simultaneously, with results which impressively augmented the affects of entertainment and pleasure herein aforementioned. Both albums were left to cycle for several hours, thus varying their points of overlap for each cycle. I honestly could not detect the join, and the two productions did not interfere with each other in any way, merely mating with unnatural vigour, to produce a new, improved Child Of Hades, more potent than even the aforementioned spawn of the abysmal “Richard & Widdecombe” combo.

I wonder if Pete Um can be tempted to release an “Unholy Trinity” comprised of all three albums re-mastered in “overlap” mode, for the more discerning, or terminally unbalanced among us?

In spite of Pete’s plethora of sleeve notes, appended to each release, I cannot claim to understand entirely where Um is coming from. I have a strange intuition that I must have spent some time there, and may be going again one day. Those who are bold enough to make a purchase on the strength of this review, and find themselves baffled upon receipt of the goods, will be well on the way to a revelation, and must buy more for true clarity. Those who make a purchase and find themselves irreparably disappointed can just lament the fact that they are sorely missing out on something very special. Nothing and no-one is immune to Um’s slash and burn treatment, and may we give thanks for the last remaining vestiges of liberty enjoyed by Britains creative community. Pull up a flagstone outside your home and plant something there.