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LP
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FTR 324LP
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"In 1975, the critic Lester Bangs was seen moaning in the pages of Creem about the anti-emotionalism of the German band, Kraftwerk, and their whole concept of the man-machine. Skip ahead 43 years. Bangs is long dead, and the man-machine is thriving. As proof of this, one need look no further than the new Tarp LP, Part. Trapped inside its insanely lovely cover art (courtesy of Greta Svalberg), one finds the two hulking man-machines (Conrad Capistran and Joshua Burkett) attempting to figure out if it's okay for robots to hug each other in public. Right in the center of the highway, even. Heard in the most boorish way, the music on Part is all the work of unemotional man-machines (to use Bangs's moldy fig of a term). 'Anybody could play this stuff,' Chuck Berry fans will pout. But that's both untrue and beside the point. I mean a goddamn giraffe can play 'Johnny B. Goode' given a 30 minute head start. Music as subtle and fully communicative as the music on Part is a heavy conceptual lift. It occurs only after a lot of thought, a massive amount of jacking around, and about a ton of boo. One needs to be a committed freak to pull off such an elegant space-hack as this. But, of course Conrad and Joshua are lifers not dilettantes. Tarp is what they do. And no one could do it better. Their previous eponymous LPs (FTR 117, FTR 323) have been dandy, but Part is a real push into new areas of the void that amplify the duo's kosmiche wing beats. You can hear little pieces of the millions of records these guys have heard poking up now and then, but the way these elements are collaged into the whole is absolutely unique, absolutely Tarp. And not the mere burps of some man-machines. Roll over Lester Bangs, and tell Chuck Berry the news." -Byron Coley, 2018. Edition of 300.
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LP
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FTR 323LP
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"In the world we inhabit (the world of the underground), one of the easiest ways to categorize people who fall into our gutter is by analyzing their motives and history. Viewed by this light, people are either lifers or careerist fucks; dedicated to the cause now and forever, or stupid moths attracted to the occasional flashes of light that emanate from the pit. By this measure (and all others), Tarp are lifers. The duo, Conrad Capistran and Joshua Burkett (look up their glorious histories online), began early in the century, during the ascendance of the plumbers' crack noise revolution. But even then, they didn't feel compelled to show their butts to the audience. They'd just sit at their electronics, thousand yard stares guiding their eyes, and play some of the best low-bore machine improv since the glory days of Cluster. That they have managed to survive into the era of Drumpf is a testament both to the rock solid nature of their musical convictions as well as to their stalwart disavowal of all that is hip. They do what they do not because they think it will lead them anywhere socially or commercially, but because they're intrigued in where it might lead them aesthetically. Both Conrad and Joshua have various other ongoing musical concerns, but a decade and a half into the Tarp experiment, there is no sign they have reached the apex of their journey. There is still a lot of space to be explored out there. Previously, Tarp has not been well served in the area of recordings. The five lathe LP box we issued back in 2013, Tarp, is certainly a beautiful and expansive set, but its limited edition natured dictated that it would not be widely heard. Now, however, this similarly titled studio session has made its way into your universe. Ostensibly recorded (by Chris Corsano) to be released on Bill Nace's Open Mouth label, it long languished for a variety of reasons. But now it has been saved. And in saving it, we sort of think we might be saving you as well. Say hello to Tarp." --Byron Coley, 2017 Edition of 300.
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