‘Masters of the Mole Hill‘ is the 9th LP by TBWNIAS – The Band Whose Name Is A Symbol, perhaps Cana-duh’s best kept secret.

Last year’s ‘Pathfinder’ opus, introduced to the baying UK pack by Cardinal Fuzz, rightly left the uninitiated salivating for more – ‘Masters of the Mole Hill’ consummates that fevered tryst.

We have just spent an escapist, week long family holiday at Corcreggan Mill in Dunfanaghy, courtesy of the ubiquitous host and raconteur, Brendan Rohan. There are few better antidotes for “civilisation”, Corcreggan is a magical destination, one which Brendan describes in his local walking guide as follows, “The hollow in which Corcreggan Mill is situated is said to be a pre-Celtic ritual site dedicated to the goddess Danu, and it has been described by the renowned Slovenian expert, Marko Pogačnik as “the energy centre of the whole north-west of Ireland”. In evidence of all this it should be considered that there are 175 recorded archaeological sites within a five mile radius.”

Just about surviving the reluctant trek home on Friday evening, what better way to delay the inevitable return to “normality” on Saturday afternoon, than with 80 minutes in the company of M.A. Littler‘s sublime and visionary documentary, ‘Lost Coast‘.

‘Transmissions’ is the new album by 3AM  – “the solo project of Chino Burga (La IrA de Dios, La Garua, Necromongo, etc) based on riffs, loops and a lot of tremolo”.

I first heard 3AM on the ‘Waves / Disappear‘ split LP, with the equally prodigious and multi talented Sula Bassana, and it immediately put the hook in me.

Debut recording ‘UFO Blues Tapes‘ quickly followed into my record box and completed my bedazzled renaissance.

The unique and distinctive tone Chino coaxes from his tormented instruments, instills a monomania that grips me firmly in it’s coiled embrace.

To say Chino’s “DIY !!! NO – FI !!! DRONE ON!!!” philosophy strikes a certain discordant note with me, would be something of an understatement, it’s life affirming essence is overwhelming and all encompassing…

All roads lead to… Milano – certainly in the case of The Gluts!

Since I had the unadulterated pleasure of witnessing The Gluts support White Hills, at the near mythical Bloom home venue back in April, the band have been busy, beavering away in their new rehearsal space.

I am oft heard decrying the dearth of bands making the pilgrimage across the Irish Sea, well last night was one of those rare exceptions to the rule.

To some extent this perceived lack, manifests in a pessimistic malaise – avoiding the certitude of knowing who’s not coming, overshadowing those who are.