On my 22nd birthday (29th April 2009) we trekked to the top of a local mountain, planted a few nigella seeds into the soil, demanded that thee great old ones lavish us with sweet treats and then tundled off home a little disapointed in the reluctance on the part of thee old ones to ever answer our cries.
Elsewhere in the country, a man stuck it into his blog that he quite liked our fifth ep. We called it EP3.
http://cowsarejustfood.wordpress.com/2009/04/29/the-radiation-line-ep3/Here it is then -
"
Isit doom? is it folk? is it noise? is it drone?
some questions my mad old mother would never ask upon hearing the radiation line.
me? i hate pigeonholes and genres and labels and typecasting.
so the radiation line are doom noise band specialising in sweeping drone and celestial folk…
…fuck.
can we start again?
alright put it this way it’s not the kind of shit you play in the park on a sunny day flying kites. it’s not dinner party background twinklings. it’s not gonna be the first dance song at any weddings you go to. billy joel will never close a concert by banging out something from this ep on the piano. though the world would be a better place if these things were true… *sigh*.
what it is, is sound. sound as torrential electricity, grim and fizzing, and sparked-out dying, laid before us dangerously bare for all to experience. layering sustained om swathes of weeping synth and machine music guitar eruptions atopatopatop zoned acoustic twang and mumbled murmerings to create a giant weighty blanket of pagan mist and ancient heaviosity. which is a good thing people
it does everything an ep should (and it is a beauty of an ep) by fucking, jiggering, experimenting, buggering with all the good ideas you ever had about making some compulsive, propulsive mangled folk record smothered in noise and hiss and muffled beats. reminding me at times of the
damaged six strings of ben chasny and his
six organs of admittance or the desert/crypt thrum of the sunno))) boris collaboration.
except in the middle when tourist (part two) appears like some pounding darkwave version of arab strap. and as fucking mental as that description sounds, not only am i speaking the real true truth, but it so bloody works.
i read that folks from lanterns, mills & boon and black sun (was john cromar really in a band called scrotal tunic?) have appeared disguised scooby doo villain-style. the albums mastered by kylie minoises lea cummings who apparently lives just up the road from me. a regular central/west of scotland hootenanny.
anyway this comes highly recommended."
Which is nice. We've just got a new batch of these pretty wee things printed up, and they are more or less four quid.
J
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