Firefriend - Blue Radiation (PRE-ORDER)

“What if the fuzz was the sermon, and the drone the religion?”

— The bass amp said that to me in a dream.

São Paulo’s high priests of the beautiful burnout, Firefriend, have their latest sonic discharge ready for you — ‘Blue Radiation’ — ain’t no “album” in the hand-holdy, wear-me-on-a-t-shirt sense. This is limited, like the lifespan of a moth in a bonfire. A freak-hymnal carved from fuzz, echoes, magnetic tape warble, and the kind of ambient dread that smells like ozone and old televisions.

We're talking left field, right brain, no safety net. No choruses. No apologies, just drones that bleed through the floorboards, feedback that curls like incense - File under: cosmic collapse music.

Think La Monte Young channel-surfing on expired acid while Neu! takes a nap in the background. Blue Radiation is a small-run thing — very small, like blink-and-it’s-gone small. Not “collector scum” small, but more like a ritual object accidentally released on vinyl. This is Firefriend’s private séance, accidentally broadcast over shortwave. For those who can hear it, it’s already too late.

No official single. No big splash. Just pure uncut radiophonic ooze for those weird enough to want it.

Get it if you can. Or just stare at a wall until the colors start humming.

Blue Radiation - just vibes and vapor. Coming soon from the bottom of the sky.