One of 100 Hand-assembled A5 books with unique hessian screenprint sleeve, unique bush leaf for the record; including disc, notes and printed lyrics with artwork. Each copy is signed and numbered. Price includes postage.
Includes unlimited streaming of Some Kind of Anthropocene
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
ships out within 2 days
edition of 100
Streaming + Download
Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
This album was written, performed, recorded and mixed by Jordan Brown over the many on-and-off months spanning May 2011 to September 2014, in the many on-and-off rooms of a former lingerie factory with asbestos roof on Pitt St in so-called Brunswick, Melbourne—which is really Iramoo on Wurundjeri land still under duress, never ceded…
Notable musical instruments were: real drum kit, real electric and acoustic guitar, real electric bass guitar, real human voice, real upright piano, real shitty keyboard; unreal audiomulch, unreal electronic patch, and the unreal hand icon inside the computer making use of all the above in simulation.*
Artworks for this record were graciously created alongside in both digital and analogue format by Michelle Chorny, in collaboration—all with continued realisations that the natural world is indeed phenomenally and perplexingly never-endingly beautiful and primary. Yet, the world burns and the simulation turns, toxic-mimics. Ink drawings about this by Willow Darling; likewise, pencil tree and tree stencils by Nathalie Crawford. A5 layout inspired by the good work of Becca Kellaway with amazing construction ideas by Michelle Chorny—including the symbolic leaf and hessian screenprint. A very heartfelt and extended thanks to all for your amazing work, generous sincerity and support.
Life was made more pleasant throughout the creation of this record by Antonietta Melideo, Rachel Williams, Kyle Magee, Nathalie Crawford, Michelle Chorny, Joshua Lapham and Callum Bryant. Thank you, and thank you all for your work, and for being alive; for being who you are.
Earnestly and with love,
* Indeed this whole recorded experience (upon playback) is itself simulacra and entirely insufficient. Though rest assured I am made successively soberingly more humbled every day by the continued cyclical realising of how sad this is. For we are all real living beings not in simulation, in a world that is seriously in drawdown from the extremely real consequences of that very same simulation. The threat is existential. ‘To see it, to save it, to love it.’