Somewhere in the frozen wastelands of the North country. Our correspondent sits by an open fire. Down, but not quite broken, he tries to make sense of his current situation…
“For some time, rumour’s and whispering’s had been coming out of the South of a happenings going on in the big city. Out here in the wilds it was hard to get the full picture – a snippet of snatched conversation here. A half sung tune there. A host of names that carried an almost mythical allure. Tales of heavy leather and the name Roadkill. Over and over again. Roadkill.
What could it all mean? Curiosity had started to gnaw at my bones, and I had to find out more. Packing the essentials I ventured out into the night and pointed myself South.
It had been a long hard winter and after months of wondering aimlessly in the pursuit of god knows what, I finally succumbed to the elements and found myself holed up in a god forsaken shack in the middle of knowhere, with nothing for company other than a log fire and what ever vile and putrid liquid the one eyed bar tender was serving up as alcohol….
The days were relentless. I’d sit by the fire trying to piece together the puzzle – the evil cyclops continuously refilling my glass with his venomous brews, until I drifted into troubled sleep. A sleep filled with dreams of leather clad figures, writhing and sweating to an almost Satanic beat. A beat yet to be heard, but much craved by myself. Day after, day after, day.
On occasion I’d take leave of my senses, and leap to my feet and reel around aimlessly, clawing at the air and screaming incoherent demands at the bar tender. Was I going mad? Had I already fallen into the pit of insanity? Could anything save me now ?
After an indiscernible length of time I was aroused from my drunken stupor by a gangly figure dressed head to toe in black, piercing blue eyes, and slicked back blond hair. “Here old man, take this and find your peace.” At which point he pressed a palm sized package into my hand, lit a cigarette turned and left.
I turned the package over in my hand, undid the wrapping and gazed at the contents.
A cassette! A god damn cassette! Did I look like a ‘hipster’? Was it still 1986?
But this wasn’t any ordinary cassette. Upon closer inspection I noticed the lurid green plastic of the body, and the rather punk rock/DIY yet hi quality contradictions of the artwork. I called for coffee. Strong, black, sour coffee. I needed to clear the fog from my brain. I knew I needed to play the cassette.
As the caffeine hit my central nervous system, my brain began to splutter back to life. My vision began to clear and I was able to make out the writing on the cover; ‘Roadkill Records – Vol 1. – Acid soaked psych – Swingin’ surf rock – Garage fuzz tones.’
I called to the bar keep demanding he find me a cassette player. The place hadn’t seen a lick of paint for over 30 years , so it was easy to presume the sound system would be at least aged, if not exactly vintage.
I blew off the dust, opened the lid, slammed in the tape and hit play.
An hour later, my quest was over. It all made sense. Roadkill, the people responsible for putting on some of London’s most explosive, talked about underground club nights had launched it’s own record label. The cassette serving a multitude of purposes – a showcase for the kind of music to expect on the label. A reminder for disciples of the heady nights of the not too distant past, and an intoxicating mix to entice new acolytes into the fold.”
ROADKILL RECORDS Vol. 1. is available now. Featuring 17 of the most original and exciting bands around. A mixed bag of punk, psych, garage and surf based music, all intrinsically linked by more than the mere fact they have played under the Roadkill banner. All 17 are raw. All 17 are inching rapidly towards the forefront of their niche. And all 17 demand to be played at a very high volume. Music from the edge. music that provides the soundtrack for what could be the gnarliest shit kicking movie yet to be made.
The Sly Persuaders – Fool
Saint Agnes – Where The Lightning Strikes
Dirty White Fever – Not Another Love Song
X Ray Cat Trio – Wolfcop
Dead Coast – Hills Made Of Sand
Venice Trip – Oh Katy
Desert Mountain Tribe – 5th Song
The Parrots – I Did Something Wrong
Thee MVPs – Funeral (Live)
Broken Soundtracks – You Can Try
Hola Ghost – Copenhagen Gringo
Muertos – Ballroom Spritzer
Love Buzzard – Guns Before Butter
Deja Vega – Skeletons In The Florist
Dedwardians – Like An Animal
Mystified – Acid Gasp
Sunlight Service Group – Winemaker Part 2
Keep up to date with ROADKILL RECORDS – Facebook
I eagerly await, but desperately hope Vol. 2. isn’t as hard to come by.
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