Category: The DNRC Records (page 1 of 21)

Originally conceived of as a clearing house, DNRC Records would go on to issue—and then, strangely, delete—exactly one hundred releases by a range of recording artists. Are you ready to seethe?

Davves: “Pre-Soak” b/w “Detailed Image Package”

Davves' debut single, 'Pre-Soak'.
DNRC102 | 7″ single | 2011
Track listing    

'Pre-Soak'
'Detailed Image Package'

After suffering the indignity of an on-stage meltdown during the Goulburn Valley Music Festival in 2010, an act which led to his retirement from the music industry (not to mention the deletion of his ‘barnestorming’ swansong EP, The Silence of Untold Sound), Davey Dreamnation regrouped, underwent therapy and changed his name to Davves.

While this decision was approved by his therapist at the time, in hindsight it appears to have been a fatal mistake, as this rare double A-side 7″ single, the only extant recording by Davves, attests.

Clocking in at just under three seconds, the purported radio-friendly unit shifter ‘Pre-Soak’ is an utter disgrace, consisting only of the sound made when plugging a jack into an obviously out-of-tune guitar. Things don’t get any better on the flip-side, where we almost fail to find any traces of sound at all in ‘Detailed Image Package’.

In fact, the attempted release of this double piece of navel fluff was blocked via a class action taken on behalf of the listening public by the International Whaling Commission, a case which was heard in-camera due to the explosive nature of the allegations against Dreamnation–Davves.

While we may never know the full effects of the so-called sub-Tasman ‘listening parties’ carried out by Davves in preparation for the singles’ release, the current absence of marine life in the areas where ‘Pre-Soak’ and ‘Detailed Image Package’ were unleashed on the submarine listening public speaks volumes.

Upon the court-ordered deletion of ‘Pre-Soak’ b/w ‘Detailed Image Package’, Davves promptly announced his retirement from the music industry, an act only half as stupid as his initial decision to join it. Nevertheless, fans of post-punk wave foam can still find bootleg versions of this release, as well as unreleased demos, in all the usual fishermen’s baskets.

Davey Dreamnation: “The Silence of Untold Sound”

DNRC101 | EP | 2031 | DELETED

Having watched in amazement as the world proceeded to ignore his other masterpiece (the abominable That’s Buddha Mini-LP), Davey Dreamnation retreated to his Majorca lair, and rightly so. The Silence of Untold Sound, Dreamnation’s long-awaited swansong, put to rest any doubts about his good intentions, while shedding no further light as to his real talent or chances of success.

The master tapes of the EP itself were almost accidentally deleted and then restored, lovingly, from the remnants of two calculators and an Eyna record, in a remarkable tale of hardship, camaraderie and studio boffinry to rival anything Stung or Christy Burr might care to come up with. But let’s leave history to the historians, shall we?

Still, it’s worth pausing, for one second, to reflect upon the fact that The Silence of Untold Sound was DNRC’s one hundred and first release, and then to move on. The Silence of Untold Sound was also DNRC’s last release, following on almost immediately from the mis-timed and ill-conceived thought-experiment that was Scaramouche’s Quiche Lorraine.

The EP’s official release in 2031 also came almost exactly thirty years after the label’s inception in the heady early days of the new century, when the Sprite Levels ruled the roost, alongside a host of other Tribesco bands.

While this kind of contextual detail is essential for any appreciation of Dreamnation and DNRC, it provides no real entry point for any discussion of the music itself. This is a crucial observation, and one that does not need to be spelled out to the remaining two fans of Davey’s music. For the newcomer, the absence of any adequate descriptions for these songs should speak volumes.

Speaking of what’s missing, the absence of Clint Bo Dean on The Silence of Untold Sound is telling, as is that of Stung, Dreamnation’s supposed vocal coach, whose influence can be heard on neither of the two instrumental tracks: the cod-reggae ‘Son of Cave’ and the spooky-synth workout ‘Theme From Untold’.

Throughout these tracks, there’s a slightly disturbing sense that Dreamnation is asleep at the wheel, or else is not actually at the wheel at all, which begs even more questions. Things don’t get much better when we turn to an examination of the tracks that do feature vocals, as can be heard on opening track ‘You & Me’, where Stung’s helium-enhanced backing vocals spoil Dreamnation’s sometimes flawless lead performance.

Elsewhere, on ‘AH XMAS’ Dreamnation could be singing in Dutch but we’re never sure, the echo-drenched effects drowning out all meaning. One suspects the lyrics to ‘Fantasy One’, the EP’s so-called centrepiece, will not age well.

Of the afore-mentioned instrumentals, Theme from Untold is the surprise standout, perhaps because it is the only song on that attempts to relate to the EP’s title. Its final two minutes surely represent a triumph of accidental skills over premeditation, and provide a fittingly ghost-like finale to a tortured artist’s career.

It seems almost redundant to point out, even to long-term fans of DNRC Records and its loopy founder, that when the end comes it comes not suddenly, drastically or with any kind of jitchiness but almost like blinking: there’s a long period of whimpers, followed by an almost everlasting silence that doesn’t seem to end, and then does.

The Silence of Untold Sound could hardly be described as a graceful exit but an exit it nevertheless remains. We can only speculate upon Dreamnation’s emotions at the precise moment when he deliberately deleted not just his final, definite masterpiece, but also his own wholly-manufactured self, right down to the last emoticon.

In the aftermath, we can only conclude by hoping, for Davey’s sake, not to mention the sake of all of the talented artists and other less-talented people who were involved in the DNRC project, that he has ascended to some plain of untold silence, and sounds, that will never be deleted.

No stars.

Scaramouche: “Quiche Lorraine”

quichelorraine

DNRC100 | 7″ | 2030 | DELETED

Perhaps it’s fitting that DNRC’s one hundredth release came from its founder’s long-time muse and benefactor, Scaramouche. After all, if it wasn’t for Scaramouche, it’s doubtful that Davey Dreamnation would have had the stamina to last so long, nor to get away with so much.

Nevertheless there is something more than a little disturbing about a failed pop icon using a musically-challenged llama as the penultimate vehicle for his long-ago conked-out idea of a record label. Therefore it is worth pausing for a moment to consider the chain of events leading up to the release of this abominable piece of toejam.

Recall, if you can, Scaramouche’s Theme, a soaring, pant-ripping anthem from the other side of Uranus that touched more than a few nerves when it was originally released, way back in the early noughties.

While that song became something of an underground cult hit, and was later featured on one of Davey Dreamnation’s own releases (I speak, naturally, of the fair-to-middling Themes EP), it is difficult to find even one trace of its unbridled (if foolish) optimism on ‘Quiche Lorriane’.

In fact, it would be possible (if not also legally advisable) to go on and state that ‘Quiche Lorraine’ might well be one of the most dreadful 7″ singles ever released were it not for the happy fact of its deletion, just seconds after being named in a class action brought by survivors of the late Christy Burr.

Nevertheless, we will never have the opportunity to write about such a shameful release again, and so let us savour for a moment the merest possibility that the spirit of Scaramouche’s ‘Quiche Lorraine’ survives in a small corner somewhere on the Intranet … before snuffing out such maudlin thoughts, secure in the knowledge that it never will get any worse than this.

Clint Bo Dean: “Live in the Bahamas”

This Tribesco-only import (whose brief half-life might be summed up by the word ‘whatevs’) sounds a little bit like Davey Dreamnation’s Live At Budokan, only worse.

While words alone cannot convey the Clint Bo Dean Experience, a brief history is necessary. Born on the back of a postage stamp somewhere south of vaudeville, Bo Dean was an enigmatic noodle who rose steadily through the Glad Rap and Hand Core scenes, building a reputation as an eccentric and wayward xylophonist.

Two summers spent entertaining guests on P&O cruise ships in the early 1980s had no discernible effect on Bo Dean’s playing abilities, and it was at this time that he began to move away from his xylophone roots, experimenting with (and soon mastering) both the bush bass and the lagaphone.

His subsequent dismissal from his cruise ship contract left Bo Dean a ruined man, both creatively and spiritually. He began to experiment with cough mixture and developed an all-too-familiar fondness for nenish tarts.

None of this goes any way towards explaining the genesis of Bo Dean’s first breakthrough single, the unspeakably bad Private Poet, which was apparently penned during this creative nadir on the back of a clinker, and which will go down in history as ‘deleted’.

Clint Bo Dean’s debut album, Never Go Ashtray, suffered a similar fate, only in reverse. It was deleted and then released in 2010 before being deleted a second time, just to be sure.

That album’s track listing alone broke several Tribesco council ordnances, including an obscure 1823 zoning by-law banning the recording of chipmunk, cricket and grasshopper noises in situ. After being hauled before a magistrate on trumped up charges of lese majeste, Bo Dean was sentenced to a period in which he must remain incognito, ergo sum and obiter dicta notwithstanding (Cf.).

Clint Bo Dean spent the next fifteen years in cotton wool, shielding himself (and his two fans) from the humiliating spectacle of public irrelevancy. That Bo Dean maintained his silence in private speaks volumes about the truth of rumours that he had a straightforward case of Laryngitis. Which brings us to 2025.

Live in the Bahamas is a strange kind of ‘live’ album, resembling more closely the soundtrack to a live instrumental album composed not so much of songs but rather chipmunk squeaks and pule-laden sound effect collages, separated by bizarre soundless interludes and random mobile phone keypad noises.

Actually, there’s no way of knowing whether Bo Dean even appears on this album at all, or whether he has instead ‘phoned in’ his contribution from Uranus. The truth does not really matter in this case, however, as Live in the Bahamas did not even reach the pre-release stage.

It was in fact pre-deleted the moment Bo Dean (or whoevs) pressed ‘play’, on that otherwise ordinary day in 2025. Thankfully, we won’t have to wince at the memory of hearing it ever again.