Ever / Never Vinyl, CD & Tape 31 Items

One hundred miles north of New York City is a post-industrial hardscrabble up-and-down town called Kingston that currently lies somewhere in-between. Kingston is where Rider/Horse came to exist, and where they now call home. Before the Rider/Horse team-up, Cory played guitar and sang in Spray Paint, while Chris was a hired gun for the likes of Trans Am, Les Savy Fav and Scene Creamers.

Philadelphia’s Kilynn Lunsford had been conceiving her first solo album since she was a young teen. Growing up through the MTV era of Missy Elliot, Timbaland and the Swing Mob collective, and drawn towards its “sometimes ridiculous, but overloaded” qualities, she found herself returning to that state of emerging adulthood when the moment for a solo record finally arose. The image of Britney Spears being recorded in an empty field somewhere in her native West-Philly—“like Alan Lomax recording Betty Boop near the Delaware water gap”—provided a key 'mental mood image’ for what would eventually become Custodians of Human Succession. As if Blackout was re-imagined by Throbbing Gristle, Lunsford’s debut straddles unclear boundaries between electro-pop, post-punk and the avant-garde; it delves into those liminal spaces between pop culture and experimentalism, between city and country, between verse and chorus. Written over four years, drafted during long car rides from work, hewn out first thing in the morning or last thing at night Custodians…is Lunsford’s first work since the dissolution of her former project, noise-punk outfit Taiwan Housing Project in 2021. Being now uninhibited by the democratic needs of a band writing and jamming in the practise-room, choosing to ‘go solo’ liberated her songbuilding process. While some arrangements would be hammered out for weeks, sometimes it was a loose, “off-the-cuff” take that could make the final cut: “Wanting to combine irreconcilable elements”, Lunsford explains, “we would set up for hours and then do one take, always allowing for the aleatoric to come through”.

Final limited pressing. Mosquitoes are back and they are deadlier than ever. On Minus Objects, their second 12” EP for Ever/Never Records, Mosquitoes challenge the abyss to a staring contest. Utilizing deep-sixed static dub imperatives over postpunk’s skeletal remains, the enigmatic trio feint & parry, duck & weave, zig & zag like they were born to slip out of your grasp and into your bloodstream. Within Mosquitoes’ all-encompassing buzz, we find a distant link to Mars’ furious caterwaul, a direct connection to the frizzle-fried no wave of Sightings, and a tense granularity that recalls Radian’s studies of disintegration. As the title implies, Mosquitoes create entrancing music using methods of subtraction. Paradox runs rampant over these nine tracks as Mosquitoes gesture towards the intimate, while retaining their forbiddingly alien textures. “Minus Object Four” overwhelms with resonant vocal hum, while “Minus Object Eight” is as desolate and haunted as any Burial track. Few bands can be convincingly accused of pushing the decrepit body of rock music into the future. Mosquitoes do so by hiding the corpse in a deep chamber where shadows lurk and mysteries abound. Elusive, unnerving, sense-scrambling—this is Mosquitoes’ modus operandi. They are a short-circuit made manifest, a cipher without decryption, a riddle without words. Mosquitoes transform the incidental movements of playing electric music (amp hum, string contact, cymbal brushes, ambient clatter) to conjure beguiling rhythmic structures. The initial impression is haphazard, but soon the mastery, and the majesty, become glaringly obvious. Mosquitoes have so thoroughly harnessed control of their close-mic’d soundworld that to observe the final result in its natural state is a thing of wonder. On Minus Objects, Mosquitoes have achieved a grand new pinnacle.

Tiptoeing in, stealth-like, CIA Debutante’s Music For Small Rooms 12” on Ever/Never Records tempts the listener with secrets and their inevitable spilling out into the open. Over the course of several releases, the France-based duo has shown a real gift for delving into the particulars of paranoia, seeding their songs with threats disguised as hooks. On its perfectly succinct new EP, CIA Debutante refines this method, as each of the six tracks plays like dystopian theme songs for closed-circuit television dramas. From the gradually increasing disquiet of “Nuclear Holiday” to the full-on terror of “The Face” (“There’s a blank spot/where the face should be”), CIA Debutante are well-versed in navigating the eternal eddies of existential doubt. With molten electronics accompanying a resigned vocal, “Sinkhole” really does feel like the planet is opening up beneath you, but perhaps you don’t mind as much as you’d have expected. “Faulty Appliances” is a kitchen sink nightmare and even elicits a couple chuckles as it wraps up the leftovers. If you find yourself routinely menaced by everyday objects, then you are primed and ready for the sounds that CIA Debutante pipes into Music For Small Rooms.

One hundred miles north of New York City is a post-industrial hardscrabble up-and-down town called Kingston that currently lies somewhere in-between. Kingston is where Rider/Horse came to exist, and where they now call home. Before the Rider/Horse team-up, Cory played guitar and sang in Spray Paint, while Chris was a hired gun for the likes of Trans Am, Les Savy Fav and Scene Creamers. When normal life forced them to press pause, the construction of Select Trials became an almost daily obsession/meditation for the duo. Recorded, assembled and mixed by Chris, with sounds from a makeshift dub zone set up in the (shuttered-at-the-time) venue Cory owns, Select Trials is a pitch-perfect distillation of C & C’s mithering. “Tremolo Harm” is a high-tension wire that leads into the horizon-vanishing tones of “Chime Inn.” Other tracks, like “Guns In The Snow” and “Prawn Ranch,” radiate with drum-driven menace, echoing Big Black’s foreboding clang. “Sleeping In The Box” drills deep into the salt of the earth, searching vainly for sustenance, while “Today’s Gains” hurts like a weary back after a long shift. Finally, “Nitetime White” pulls down the shades and blots out the sun. With Select Trials—the debut album from Rider/Horse—Ever/Never Records brings you a doozy for the ages.

Five years into their long strange drip, the duo of Maximum Ernst continues to confound, perplex, confuse and refract. Foetal returns yielded guitar/drum scramble in service of improvisational incongruity and radical reimaginings of alt-world smash hits by Faust, Snatch and Easy Cure. A link with Old Master horn maestro and official NYC gem Daniel Carter emerged and soon thereafter a CD and live cassette popped a few eardrums just right, so tight. Further uncharted territories were conquered and liberated as Maximum Ernst furiously and fitfully would-shedded. Woodn’t you? Quit playing. That was the advice of one medical doctor and also a licensed quantum mathematician; but still the daft, disappearing duo of Maximum Ernst gestured, rudely, NAY and thus, this newest release finds itself in your hands, begging for a vigorous clean.

Strange connections—Bilbao meets Japan via Berlin on a record that will put you in a constant state of WTF. ASMR rock? Post-internet punk? A political manifesto in times of generalized madness? After his acclaimed 2017 destructo-punk single on Munster Records, AL KARPENTER now delivers his mature, complex debut LP on the world's premier record label for adults, New York City's Ever / Never. Al Karpenter is an elusive figure. On this record, he comes off like "Che" Guevara fronting Suicide in the year 2020: In halting, quivering tones, he warns us not to fall asleep, even as he slips into a dream state; he reminds us that we must not give up hope even in these times of collective self-destruction; then he shakes our very core with an agonizing scream. There is no resignation, no giving-up, and no mourning for a lost future in his work. Instead, Al Karpenter pits the burning energy of the present moment against older underground musical forms, playing things "wrong" as a technique for exposing the fundamental wrongness of consensus reality. His record is a puzzle, a conundrum, at once conflictive and erotic, violent and beautiful. Yellow Green Red's Matt Korvette described Al's debut single as ”Very deconstructed and cuckoo, as if one of Fushitsusha’s psychic jams was condensed into a couple minutes of indigestion"—a perceptive appraisal, seeing as Al is now joined by time-bending drummer and percussionist SEIJIRO MURAYAMA, whose early credits include Fushitsusha’s Double Live. Further strange connections include key players from Bilbao's exploratory music scene—drummer JOXEANN RIVAS of Bilbao's demolition unit KILLERKUME, experimentalists MARIA SECO and MATTIN—alongside the legendary CHIE MUKAI of Japan's CHE-SHIZU and the seminal East Bionic Symphonia school of improvised music. Tying it all together everything are the lucid sexophone and electronics of LUCIO CAPECE.

!!! On their debut 12'' EP for Ever/Never Records, New York City's Ballroom explode out of the gate with a whirlwind fury. Anchored by a tornado of vicious snare drum thwacks and excoriating guitars, "Corridor" is a threat made manifest by singer Eric Cecil's warnings to "not let the sight disturb ya." Ballroom are a powerful ensemble assembled from scattered remnants of other notable bands. Cecil (who also plays guitar) did time in Chicago punk standout Busy Signals, and has featured in numerous NYC bands since his relocation. The other axe-slinger, Kristian Brenchley, is a founding member of long-running scum rockers Woman, and also lays down the bottom end in Ever/Never labelmates Degreaser. Ballroom low-end is provided by Home Blitz' Theresa Smith, while the drums are beaten into submission by Steven Fisher, leader of Wilful Boys and Dozers.

Received a 7.9 rating from Pitchfork. Coming at you direct from Cleveland, Ohio, Lamont "Bim" Tohomas has transitioned seamlessly from journeyman sticksman in some of the state's finest bands (This Moment In Black History, Unholy Two, Puffy Areolas, Bassholes, etc.) to the full-on phenomenon known as Obnox. From a foundation of dirt-level garage punk, Thomas sculpts deep cuts out of blown-out beats, redline guitar damage, and soulful singing, as if your local gospel choir had been raised on a steady diet of The Pagans and Back From the Grave comps. Know America is a loose concept album, something like Thomas' deep soul take on 'Pump Up The Volume' or 'Airheads'. Right at the start, on "Signal Takeover," Obnox is hijacking the radio waves. A DJ that sounds suspiciously like Thomas, let us know that we are tuned to "Radio 420 WEDE" and that we better prepare for some "trunk punk." In case you haven't picked up what he's laying down, Thomas informs you that the LP you just slapped on your turntable is "reefer on wax."

Greek musician Stelios Papagrigoriou is a practitioner of a dizzying array of creative pursuits. He is a published author with novels, poems and short stories to his credit. His award-winning visual arts practice encompasses sculpture, installations and painting (which adorn the front and back covers). Papagrigoriou has also delved into the digital art realm, proving that no medium is beyond his grasp. Reflecting his voracious appetite, Papagrigoriou’s wide-ranging sonic explorations are just as intriguing and well-executed as the other forms he operates in. Hand & Leg, an art-punk duo with Iro Sofoulaki on bass and Papagrigoriou on drums, put out two albums of addictive, angular crunch before hanging up their limbs. Adopting the moniker Stylianos Ou, Papagrigoriou has embarked upon yet another expedition into uncharted waters. In 2023, Søvn Records released To Qfahlogo, a complete about-face from Hand & Leg, with Papagrigoriou using a modular synth to sculpt Aphex Twin-like compositions. Blending the processed voices of children with frenetic percussive textures, this alien landscape beckoned with a strangely human hand. Just when you think you’ve got Ou figured out, he makes yet another 180 degree turn into an arena that might surprise even his most dedicated listeners—the Athens-based polymath has gone full singer-songwriter." "Released by Ever/Never Records, Fucked Forever finds Ou in troubadour mode, bringing along an entire band, the Cortisol Cows, to lay down a suite of songs teeming with bitter laughter, triumphant resignation and fleeting glimpses of that most elusive of instincts—hope. At first glance, Ou’s version of hope might seem incompatible with yours. To the matter of his intentions, he tells us that, 'Songs work slowly and with no clear purpose, and for sure, even the most humble ones, are a great way to learn how to live, to learn how to die and maybe for some magical seconds, to see clearly and in all its glory, the blistering flame that consumes us constantly.' I doubt Burt Bacharach ever had thoughts like this, but Lead Belly probably did. Then again, Mr. Huddie Ledbetter never had a chance to pen an ode to one of the 21st century’s most controversial authors, as Ou does with 'Houellebecq My Brother.' Ou’s willingness to engage the sordid affectations and indignities of modern life is revealed by song titles such as 'Prophet Squirting,' 'Our Fake Tits' and 'Pornhub Spiritual.' Like respectful jesters at a funeral, the quintet—using banjo, cello, bongos, piano—acquits itself with grace and sensitivity, never overwhelming the lyrical concerns, but fleshing them out, letting them stretch-out and breathe, while never going slack. The way the songs roll and twang and hint at a wildness simmering beneath the tattered elegance resembles acclaimed labelmates Ryan Davis & the Roadhouse Band, old hands like Bonnie 'Prince” Billy', departed masters like Sparklehorse and rising stars like MJ Lenderman." "This is music made for bars where the walls sweat whiskey, cigarette smoke feels like a breath of fresh air, as the patrons stand on wobbly legs and sway like their lives depend on it. And perhaps they do. The last word goes to PapagrigoriOU—'We wait for songs as we wait for trains in the night, or people in our lives. These songs were living inside of me like bacteria and finally bloomed.'" "If we are truly Fucked Forever, then at least we now have the proper soundtrack."—Erick Bradshaw

As Patois Counselors close in on a decade of existence, they are back to confirm their standing as one of America’s most consistently forward-thinking rock units. Although it’s been an entire presidential term since the Counselors acclaimed sophomore album The Optimal Seat came out, Bo White’s group hasn’t been lying fallow. Over the last few years, the seven-person line-up has been busy writing, recording and gigging, resulting in Enough: One Night at the Daisy Chain, a live-in-the-studio document captured in Brooklyn while on tour. Released at the beginning of 2024, Daisy Chain works splendidly as both a greatest hits primer and a forthcoming album teaser. Alas, the teasing is over with the arrival of Limited Sphere, the third album from Charlotte, NC’s Patois Counselors. Once again, Ever/Never steps up to the plate to demonstrate their confidence in this hard-working crew. In most contexts, a septet band configuration signals either a jazz ensemble or a mishmash of madcap noise. Beholden to no rules, Patois Counselors pluck from a selection of tactics as needed. Even augmented by extra players, each member reinforces their specific role, performing exactly what is needed for the track at hand. White’s post-modern muse needs plenty of room to stretch out and breathe and the big band spreads out the tent as far as it will go. White’s songs are rife with earned skepticism, sly asides and deft twists of tongues and licks. The manner in which the little details accumulate into the structure of the whole keeps the listener engaged. In other words, this is pop music for benevolent, discerning brainiacs, but regular people can dig it too. For Limited Sphere, Patois Counselors relax their grip on the tense post-punk that they mastered long ago. Songs like “Fountain Of UHF,” “Serious Rider” and “Ranking Set” still touch on this style, but now White’s voice shares the air with woodwind instruments that add even more depth and texture to his songs. The effortlessly groovy, vaguely loungey “Marge Attack” conjures fond memories of early Stereolab, while “Return To Sensitivity” evokes the magic hour of twilight, insects buzzing and zipping through dusky sky. Foregrounding the haze and mist in these songs, you can detect traces of Eno’s Another Green World in Limited’s atmoSphere, particularly on the closing “Cathy Music.” For their third proper album, Patois Counselors have crafted another seamless set of songs for practical fantasists and head-in-the-clouds cynics. The sphere outlined here may be limited, but the boundaries have been expanded significantly. —Erick Bradshaw

"Holed up in their Kingston, NY, hideout, the Rider/Horse gang is growing. What began as a duo delivering stripped-down post-punk screeds has now evolved into a full-blown rock band with the addition of Zoots Houston on pedal steel (who also appeared on Feed ‘Em Salt & Select Trials) and Jared Ashdown on bass. Their latest for ever/never, Matted, finds Rider/Horse as unrelenting as ever. Singer/guitarist Corey Plump’s sung-spoke shouts (honed during his Spray Paint days) remain an inimitable totem of the contemporary underground, working as both blunt confessionals and clarion calls for the terminally frustrated. And while the band’s minimalist industrial clatter is still its sonic foundation, the strains of mutant funk that could always be picked out of the junkyard play a slightly larger role, with Ashdown’s bass and Chris Turco’s drums combining for roaring grooves on tracks such as “Run the Rabbit” and “Empty Boxes.” There has always been something a little mysterious and foreboding about the Rider/Horse sound, as if a shadowy menace follows them from town to town. On Matted, this force has been harnessed and added to the arsenal, as ghostly shrieks of electronic noise haunt nearly every track and reach an apex on the pulsing electronic dust storm that is “Toen.” If one ever contemplated how an outfit like Rider/Horse might grow and develop, well, Matted is your answer. Rider/Horse is locked in and ready to do crimes, producing what is certainly their most dense and fully realized album yet. These guys are nowhere near the end of the trail, so sign up for the next raid."—Nate K. (wfmu)

On their third album, Al Karpenter merges its singular vision with a host of collaborators. In synchronicity with a recent CIA Debutante team-up, the Berlin-based group rises to the challenge of expanding its parameters. As Al Karpenter’s resident theoretician Mattin explains, “The last record was a result of the pandemic, introverted and low energy. The Forthcoming is a result of the possibilities of making music and touring again. We had such an amazing time on tour with Sunik Kim, Dominic Coles and Triple Negative, that at the end of our concert at Cafe Oto, we all played together.” Whether delving into manic plunderphonics with Sunik Kim on “A Brand New Brontophobia” [an intense fear of extremely loud, natural noises in the environment - dict. ed.] or accessing the hidden burrows that tunnel beneath polite society with anarchic rock-folk deconstructionists Triple Negative on the title track, Al Karpenter is revolving around its own matrix. “Poison Sun” throws the New York-based Coles into the mix and you feel as if you are seesawing between competing parties, attempting to soak up their atmospheres during each pass through. Mattin again: “The feeling of exuberance, chaos and fragmentation is confronted with the pleasures of collective music making. This record is outwards, full on and complex. Tiktok attention span meets electroacoustic and concrete techniques. This record is of today.” It’s about time—The Forthcoming is here, for ever more.