This is not THE new album. THE new album's coming shortly. This album's one that we dragged to shows over the past few months, as a "show-exclusive," "limited-time-only," "playing-on-your-fear-of-loss" type item--though we're such bad businesspeople that I don't think we ever remembered to couch it to people like that, if we even ever actually really intended to do that at all. Now it's online, because... uh...

This album was recorded at a live show at 2040 in Chicago. If yer looking for a swell place to play a gig, or to get some quality recording done, throw out a line to 2040chicago@gmail.com. Nobody's made words that can appropriately wrap up how immensely appreciative we are to the 2040 crew, for the help they've thrown us over the years, and their role in the Chicago DIY set.

[Hey y'all, should we put the text from the liner notes in the "about this album" section? Just to have em up for review, there it is, below:]

[BLACKERFACE puts its HAND on your SHOULDER. You JOLT, looking over your SHOULDER, to see BLACKERFACE looming over YOU. BLACKERFACE smells YOUR FEAR, and SMILES a BLURRY smile. This SMILE is as much AUDRE LORDE's as FRANTZ FANON's, and for a FLEETING MOMENT it's LUCILLE BOGAN's. Your SEX DRIVE is now INSATIABLE; you cannot suppress your INDIGNATION (consult CONDITION COMPENDIUM to comprehend how to calibrate your conduct consequently-p.616, 70000000, respectively).]

BLACKERFACE: Come with me, into my office.

[BLACKERFACE hups you UP over its SHOULDERS, carrying you like a LIMP FLESH RUG. As it HUPS you up, you get a glimpse of the DOOR that was BEHIND YOU before the great HUPPING. YOU don't remember the door being CLOSED! YOU don't REMEMBER there even being a DOOR BEHIND you; if YOU DO, you don't remember THAT PARTICULAR DOOR being BEHIND you. It was a DIFFERENT DOOR.]

[NOW you can't SEE the DOOR because you're OVER BLACKERFACE'S SHOULDERS and you're BURYING your FACE into its TONED, SINEWY DELTOID. BLACKERFACE glides to THAT PARTICULAR DOOR that may or may NOT have been BEHIND YOU. BLACKERFACE opens THAT DOOR, and it leads to a PLACE it DIDN'T BEFORE! BUT you CANNOT REALLY VERIFY THAT because this is a DIFFERENT DOOR, even if it is in the SAME PLACE that the PREVIOUS door might have been.]

[BLACKERFACE puts you DOWN on a NAUGAHYDE RECLINER the likes of which you could NEVER AFFORD. You are facing a DESK of UNSURPASSED OPULENCE. It looks like SHIT! It looks like one REALLY EXPENSIVE TABLE made from FIVE different REALLY EXPENSIVE TABLES made of texturally dissonant materials. BLACKERFACE sits down on the OPPOSITE SIDE of this desk. Is there even a CHAIR on the OTHER SIDE of this DESK? Whether or not there IS a CHAIR, BLACKERFACE towers OVER YOU still, which is TERRIFYING because BLACKERFACE might be SITTING on the FLOOR and your chair is PRETTY FUCKING TALL.]

[The WALLS of this NEW PLACE are TOTALLY INCOMPREHENSIBLE! Is that RED SHAG? They will not STOP BUZZING! It is TERRIFYING AND DEAFENING. Also there is NO AIR here. Just E&J. Despite the DIN and the LACK OF AIR, BLACKERFACE projects its VOICE far louder than ANYTHING YOU'VE EVER HEARD]

BLACKERFACE: Are you ready to glide on the bleeding edge of DISRUPTIVE STRATCOM VIRTUALIZATION?

[BLACKERFACE freezes entirely, as if in A PHOTOGRAPH. Suddenly, THESE WORDS and FLECKS OF PUNCTUATION flare up in your PUPILS, very finely, so that they are PERFECTLY LEGIBLE:

"MUSIC, WHICH CONCERNS ITSELF ONLY WITH THE UNDEFINED MOVEMENT OF THE INWARD SPIRITUAL NATURE, AND DEALS WITH MUSICAL SOUNDS AS FEELING WITHOUT THOUGHT, NEEDS LITTLE OR NO SPIRITUAL CONTENT TO BE PRESENT IN CONSCIOUSNESS."]