THE SHITSHOW

Welcome to the raw, the real, the unfiltered — this is the Moolakii Club Shitshow.

Entry #001

*~MØØŁΛKĪĪ ČŁÜB ΛÜDĪØ ĪИŦEŘFΛČE ZĪИĒ*~ WĒĒKŁŶ ČΛŠČΛDĒ ØF PĒRĪPHĒRΛŁ ÜИDĒRGŘØÜИD SØИĪČ FŪŘY ŦΛGŁĪИĒ: SÜŘŘĒΛŁ ZĪИĒ FŘØM ΛИØŦHĒŘ ŦĪMĒŁĪИĒ VØŁ. 4.14 // 29 ΛÜGÜSŦ 2025 // MΛĪŁŦØ: moolakiiclub@gmail.com JΛB YR SØÜŁ ĪИŦØ ŦHĒ ÜK’Ś MØSŦ DĒŘΛИGĒD SØИĪČ ŠŁØP Oi, you sonic scavengers, it’s another unhinged surge from Moolakii Club Audio Interface, yr nano-label for the UK’s most feral underground electronica. We’re wading through noise-drone mires, ambient veils, gaze-soaked deliriums, downtempo slithers, glitchy fits, minimal electro flickers, avant-garde beats, and grooves that jerk like a fried circuit board. This zine’s a middle finger to corporate sheen, stuffed with pigeon tongues (Esperanto, patois, mangled Français, jagged Nihongo), and tales so mundane they’re practically occult. Expect ascii art, raw swears, invented cusses, and random human drivel. No polish, just sweaty, surreal chaos from another timeline. Let’s dive into the muck. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * _ ___ _ | |__ ___/ __| |_ ___ | '_ \ / __\__ \ | '_ \ | |_) | (__ ___) | | | | |_.__/ \___|____/|_| |_| ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ŦHĒ SØИĪČ ŠWΛMP The UK’s underground is a throbbing, glitched-out nightmare. In Manchester, noise weirdos are wiring busted kettles to synths, spitting drones that sound like a city having a fever dream. Cardiff’s ambient heads are sampling rain on cracked pavements, weaving it into gaze tracks that feel like staring through a shattered lens. Glasgow’s downtempo crew are slicing up old voicemail tapes into glitchy rhythms, while Bristol’s minimal electro scene is crafting beats that pulse like a dying battery. London’s avant-garde lot are churning grooves so warped they’d make a sequencer scream putain de bordel! Hunt these sounds in dead X posts, Bandcamp pages with broken embeds, or cassettes chucked in canal locks. MĪИDFÜŁ MØŘΛŁ MÜSĪИG “ŦHĒ WØŘŁD’Ś Λ ČØDĒ. BĒ ŦHĒ BÜG ŦHΛŦ ČŘΛSHĒŚ ĪŦ.” —Scrawled on a Leeds skip, 2025 WĒĪŘD MÜИDΛИĒ ŦΛŁĒ: ŦHĒ JΛMMĒD DØØŘ KИØB Kael from Brighton, a glitch producer who hoards busted VHS tapes, once found a door knob that squeaked in a perfect B-flat. He recorded the creak, layered it with street noise, and crafted a 15-minute drone track called “Knob Wail.” The knob’s now in his studio, still squeaking when he plays the track. True story, from a timeline where doors hum their own tunes. .·:¨༺ KИØB DRØИĒ ༻¨:·. ┌───────────────┐ │ ░▒▓ Creak Hiss ▓▒░ │ │ Door Murmur │ │ Static Squeak │ └───────────────┘ HΛĪKÜ ØF ŦHĒ WĒĒK Wires hum in gloom, Streetlight stutters, then fades out, Void chews on the dark. 16-SŦĒP DRÜMBĒΛŦ MΛP FØŘ ŦRΛČK SUBMĪSSĪØИŚ Yo, you sonic freaks, here’s a 16-step drum sequence to mangle. Six elements: kick (K), snare (S), hi-hat (H), glitch click (G), sub-bass pulse (B), and random bottle smash (T). Make a track that sounds like a data center having a meltdown in a storm. Send to moolakiiclub@gmail.com. STEP: 01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 KICK: x - x - - x - x - x - - x - x - SNARE: - s - - s - - s - - s - - s - - HIHAT: x x - x x - x - x x - x x - x x GLITCH: - g - - g - g - - g - - g - - g BASS: b - - b - - b - - b - - b - - b SMASH: - - t - - - t - - - t - - - t - Submit by 5 September 2025. No clean production. Make it sound like a modem shitting itself in a flood. ČĒŁĒBRĪŦŸ MΛSH-ÜP: FŁØŘĒИČĒ WĒŁČH + NĪGĒŁ FΛŘΛGĒ ŦΛŁŁ ŦΛŁĒ In this timeline, Florence Welch and Nigel Farage got trapped in a Liverpool warehouse rave in 2024. Welch was wiring a synth to a busted fan, while Farage, there to “reclaim the beat,” tried to rant over the mix. They ended up jamming on a 13-minute glitch track called “Fan Howl.” Welch sold the fan as an art piece; Farage denied it but was caught humming it at a kebab shop. The track’s on a USB stick floating in the Mersey. ČØØKĪИG ČØŘИĒŘ: ŠŦΛŦĪČ ŦĪИ Take a tin of sardines, heat with ditch water and a snapped USB stick. Toss in ash from a burnt flyer. Simmer till it smells like despair. Serve in a rusty can with a side of 70 BPM drone. Mangez, enfoiré. ┳━┓┳━┓┳━┓┳━┓┳━┓┳━┓┳━┓┳━┓ ┣┳┫┣┳┫┣┳┫┣╬┫┣┳┫┣┳┫┣┳┫┣┳┫ ┣╩┫┣┻┫┣┻┫┣╬┫┣┻┫┣╩┫┣╩┫┣┻┫ ┣┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻ ┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻┻ WĒĪŘD MÜИDΛИĒ ŦΛŁĒ: ŦHĒ FΛÜŁŦŸ FΛИ Lio from Leeds, a gaze producer who collects cracked phone screens, once found a desk fan that hummed in a perfect G-sharp. He recorded the drone, layered it with street hums, and made a 14-minute downtempo track called “Fan Murmur.” The fan’s still in his studio, spinning out of sync. True story, from a timeline where appliances groove. PØŁĪŦĪČΛŁ PĪGĒØИ: ŠŦĪČK ĪŦ ŦØ ŦHĒ ŠŸSŦĒM The corporate machine can choke on its own cables. Bristol’s noise artists are shredding old contracts, sampling the rip for drone tracks. Manchester’s glitch crew are dropping USBs with avant-garde beats in corporate lobbies. Stay feral, stay free, vive le bordel! FΛSHĪØИ FŁΛSH: ŦHĒ ŁØØK ØF ŦHĒ WĒĒK Wear a ripped bin bag coat, studded with dead SD cards. Pair with boots wrapped in Ethernet cables. Hang a cracked floppy disk from yr ear. Smudge yr cheeks with oil for that post-crash vibe. Baka cool, bastards. FĪŁM, ŦV, ŘΛDĪØ, BŁØG BĪŦĒ Film: Fuzz Wail, a lo-fi flick shot on a broken camcorder in a Glasgow carpark. It’s 81 minutes of glitch visuals and mumbled Esperanto about a lost sock. Pure delirium. TV: Ditch the mainstream. Tune to static on a busted set for accidental art. Radio: Catch 88.9 FM in Cardiff at 4 AM. Some rando’s looping minimal electro with patois poetry. Blog: “GlitchMire.neocities.org” rants on why capitalism’s a bad reverb loop. MĪИDFÜŁ MØŘΛŁ MÜSĪИG “ŦHĒ GLĪŦČH ĪŚ ŦHĒ SØÜИD ØF ŦHĒ WØŘŁD ČŘΛCKĪИG ØPĒИ.” —Carved into a Sheffield bench, 2025 ČΛŦČHPHŘΛSĒ ØF ŦHĒ WĒĒK “Static and muck, mate, that’s the juice!” SĒИDØFF That’s yr fix, you chaotic fuckers. Keep it raw, keep it anti-corporate, keep it surreal. Send yr tracks, yr rants, yr weirdness to moolakiiclub@gmail.com. Linger in the fuzz, where the madness thrives. ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ____ _ / ___| | ___ | | | |/ _ \ | |___| | __/ \____|_|____| ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * Surreal zine from another timeline, slung with grit and glitch