Obviously Forest Fire Citation are best known for their epic 1970s albums P. Bryan Twyne and the Pype of Wine and, of course, The Squirrels of Blame . One would have to be a completely idiotic retarded mindfuck not to know this really basic fact. However, like many of their folk-rock ilk, the band continued to record, release and perform new music long after their star had faded, and indeed are still active today, albeit with none of the original members on board, though drummer Reg Pegson continues to act as a sort of 'percussion consultant' to the group, even at the brisk old age of 104! Amongst their later catologue, 1988's Chickadee is perhaps the highlight. Their ninth album overall, it saw FFC reinventing themselves through the abandonment of traditional folk instrumentation, each member adopting instead a selection of home-made instruments, fashioned from household objects, kitchenware, car parts, cheesewire and so on. While this undoubtedly gives the record an &#

  Everybody loves prog rock, right? I mean, even those who don't loves prog rock loves prog rock. Right? That was certainly the view in 1977 and indeed in most of the Western World became the law for a short period of time. Although their debut album sank without a trace - in many cases quite literally as 90% of the known copies were on board the ill-fated Girth Hound ocean liner when it tragically capsized in 1973 - Empty Stock Workings had been building momentum throughout the decade with their unique blend of vocals, instrumentation and songs. Arse Tea and its follow-up Poo Wine were both moderately successful records, before the arrival of Canadian guitarist David Carvery and keyboard player Jan Hospice allowed them to take their sound to new and experimental places. 'G on E', as it's affectionately known, opens with the 13 minute epic 'Temple of Messenger', composed largely by bassist Matthew Scrotum, while side two includes the band's biggest hit &#

  It seems impossible to believe that it's been almost 50 years since Gloryhole's debut album hit the charts, sending dancefloors everywhere into a priapic frenzy. That might be because it's only been 34 years, but even so, this Hi-NRG, ballsy beat-ridden bonanza feels forever lost; sucked into a timewarped gloryhole of its own, if you will. The pet project of New York producer Chase Brumby and electronics whizzkid Kizz 'The Whizz' Jizzworth, it's a full 12 inches of thick, hardcore, pulsating passion that penetrates deeply. Just five tracks fill the 72 minutes, and three of those are arguably extended remixes of the other two, but that's splitting stray pubic hairs. A seminal album in every sense, the opening epic Talk to the Glans pretty much defined the genre of 'Hard Bath House', such as it briefly was, while the sampled vocals on Too little, too late sparked a years-long debate on who the mystery singer might or might not be, or whether anyone