![\"\"](\"http:\/\/www.zogue.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/11\/scanner214.jpg\" "\\"Prepared")
<\/a><\/p>\nImagine 7″ vinyl and art combined. A record made without instruments, tape recorders, computers or sound, made without going into a recording studio, made without a conception of how it will be heard until it is played, if it is played at all.<\/p>\n Imagine the hardest sounds your stereo can cope with, with no regard for rhythm, tone, timbre, melody or key, giving up only the by-product of a messy and violent coupling.<\/p>\n Imagine a record which has a history, but which is then rewritten in a smothering, revisionist tactic, a cruel drowning of the efforts of past artists, relabelled and appropriated for nothing, nothing, nothing.<\/p>\n Imagine a record disunited with its ability to entertain, a record devoid of funk, grooves, rock, roll and soul. A record tied up and shamed, strong armed into relinquishing the very qualities that define it, dislocating its overweening pride and conscending pomposity.<\/p>\n This, fathermuckers, is what you have right now. It’s what you’d expect from Spunkle, only in a way you’d never expect. After this, nothing will have changed.<\/em><\/p>\n