Saturday, September 25, 2010

101 Convergences: #4

Continuing...

Tomorrow I'll Wake Up and Scald Myself With Tea (1977, Jindrich Polák) vs. Urga (1991, Nikita Mikhalkov).



(Click above for a larger version of the image.)

Until #5,

TS

Vaulting Above (the) Routine...

Dear Afternoonsters,

A little stunned by the flood of orders (most of which were barked via megaphone, natch) - thanks for coming to the aid of abandoned senses. We'll begin folding and burning and licking and gender reassigning sometime Monday. As for previously received orders, every last scrap was shipped off in this morning's post. Look for your swag to arrive within the week. North American customers may need to wait ten to fourteen days, but our packages rarely take longer to arrive. Feedback is always appreciated - when you've given the albums a proper listen, send us your thoughts, no matter how scurrilous, doleful, or wide-eyed and addled.

In light of the chaos surrounding The Obstacles of Romantic Exaggeration, Karl, Linda and I have been discussing moving away from numbered editions, and switching to time-based distribution. Each new release would be made available for two or three weeks, then sent to the vaults. Every three months, we'll open a different sector of the archive (as we've done this weekend) so that latecomers can have the opportunity to chew the strings with which the more senior cakes of KSV scag were tied. So, a missed meisterwerk may only swerve back into view every nine months, but at least you'd be able to more accurately time your breeding cycles.

Collector frenzies are way fucking old media - we prefer a more circular approach. The label is a life diary, an idea generator. It really shouldn't matter if you were first off the block or the last mannequin aboard the lifeboat.

(KD and I wrongly assumed, re Obstacles, that nineteen lovely cheloveki would politely queue, and not repeatedly stab each other in the jugular with quarter-inch amplifier cables. Oops!)

We just want you to dip your hooves into the plasma when you feel like having an agreeable grand mal. As ever, your pleasure is our malpractice...

TS