(joint release with Lalalal) Does anyone remember a remarkable piece of psych-styled rubbish called "God is Free", released on Chocolate Monk back in 2004? Of all the odd wonders and incestuous secrets to emerge from Finland in the last 20 years, the Puke Eaters could be thee greatest. "Hello Walhalla" is the first long playing record by this anti-prolific group. The applied methods range from accidental to free and from psycho-motorik to ritual. For any points of reference think of the swamp into which Fille qui mousse, Cromagnon and 'Jesus Christ' era Smell & Quim were dumped. After years of tireless experimentation in the cynical utopian ruinscape of their collective butterfly mind, The Puke Eaters have loosened their belts and finally unleashed their deadliest recordings for thee future caveman. Endless volcano-brain spewing on the ur-limits of limitless psycho-dynamic sound clash, totally high on Scandinavian pussy juice. Limited Edition of 500 pressed 140g Black vinyl

(skull001) V/A - Bound with Skin ( 5 X CD compilation) {an experiment in social obfuscation and dynamic metaphysical acoustics} After three whole years of shifting plans and unusual exchanges, Skulls of Heaven is proud to finally present: Bound with Skin 5 X CD compilation. In the Summer of 2004 we started asking our favorite artists to send us some of their most challenging and unusual work, with the only guideline being that their piece had to be 6 - 13 minutes long. After all this time, we receivd many submissions, and here we have compiled the 25 best, most unsual and stimulating sounds. What results is 5 very unique and disturbing CDs, each in black slip (each with art by Shayde Sartin). Bound with cardstock obi strip and leather cord. With a balance of these humors and your good fortunes to feast here, witness our accumulation of great sonic dilemma... such as:: The spliced tribal frenzies of the Tomutonttu, raw and intimate portraits of the Skaters astral beginings, triptych portrayals of the Ashtray Navigations, a split journey backwards down the Zodiac Mountain, and fucked wwvv more than a non-horse could carry. and // Synth fried elegies from the sick as Pengo, a post apocalypse waltz with the Maths Balance Volumes, until the fried and breaking cast of Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood bare down, to hear the first howling death of the White Dog, and the unhinged knighthood of the Armpit responds. while // reUniting the elemetal forces here called Zaimph and Fursaxa, Axolotl scribed sensations for era, a further triolgy from albion's Astral Social Club, the seer describes the tight rope lunacy of Exceptor, and the sounding of the great solar call by ghq and pelt veteran warrior master PW Best until // Uton opens a forth still universe, where Watersports lay bathing in soothing stasis, Anla Courtis plays a solar shaman's lullaby, courting the southern realm by the spirits of Pan to Scratch, and the earthbound mantras of Taikuri Tali where // now ends the great sonic architecture of the Wolfskull, with haunted lighthouse rituals and United Bible Studies, Kyrgyz buzzing meditations posted scripture to the silence, as silence captures Navy Black, and Clixcx revolts at their own analog prophecy. __._,_.___ Limited to 500

Live EP from Josephine with her psych folk rock band. Great songwriting with lysergic damaged jam aspects.

1%er scuzz rock. One beast of a record, these crude fuckers fall flat on their faces, blacked out in patched denim false doom. Sick grease monkey rock and roll explosion. Like a live fire on qualudes, let's not leave these gentlemen alone with your women. Totemic neanderthal slow-ride rituals from cerebral underground odd-men-out. Think of Les Rallizes Denudes forming a Davie Allan and the Arrows tribute band. For those who caught the first blaze of cdrs and tapes of this band as they were born free, this is a collection of some of the greatest tunes from those self-released items. Everything remastered hot by Steven Wray Lobdell and pressed to disc by the mighty Holy Mountain. Get your wings!

Josephine Foster bravely travelled to Nashville to seek out the legendary southern folk song and cosmic kazoo medicine show known as the Cherry Blossoms. Eventually Josephine did track them down and soon (as one could only dream of...) the sprawling jams did spin and the heartfelt social songs did ring. Josephine stayed on for a nice long spell recording and living among the Cherry Blossoms for a couple weeks. Many months later, I came through Nashville on my annual pilgrimage, and when John Allingham and Peggy Snow (voices and authors of most Cherry Blossoms songs) gave me a cdr documenting their favorite audio snapshots of Josephine's visit, I was thrilled to hear how organically Peggy and John's songs mix with Josephine's songs and weave in between and throughout the sprawling backporch Cherry Blossom jams. As usual, the Cherry Blossom's ramshakle eight piece band wheezes and whirs through the skeletons of their compositions, bending time and tone until complete chaos is just around the corner. Then typically, the stoned percussion wizard or the holwing antics of Peggy Snow will eventually shuffle everyone back into place as they begin to charge forward into some frenzy that only Hasil Adkins or Henry Flynt could have dreamt of. This dynamic album manages to cover many of the moods of this complex musical organism. From blue mountain meditations, hard cider country swing, still southern nights with all the windows open, backporch hillbilly hysterics wrap around campfire prayers... you may never get another chance to hear Americana quite like this again.