Limited edition of 100 copies hand-cut lathe direct from Peter King’s workshop in NZ. Spastic synth/rock/sound poetry from European art wildman Dennis Tyfus’s idiot-avant ensemble. Square cut lathe with art by Tyfus. 

Fantastic collection of outlaw visual art and goofy photography from Dennis Tyfus, still the most cracked graphic artist to come out of post-Noise Europe. “A 60 pages zine made as a contribution to the "changez, een belgenshow" exhibtion at 21 rozendaal in een schede/holland. This zine collects the short period right before this exhibition. All work is made or found between November 4th, when Tyfus joined the subhumans of Hair Police on a tour through Europe and December 31st. Besides a lot of drawing in the tour van, this period included a residency at Codalunga in Vittorio Veneto (which also resulted in a exhibtion), a sinterklaas performance with Benjamin Verdonck, great second hand store found imagery, a ceiling fan party, a Jacques Beloeil show, a Ludo Nich show, and the first ever baking cookies attempt.. well collected in a 60 pages black and white zine (with a full color cover). Limited to 600 copies.” – DT.

"Some sonic events do not qualify as “music” no matter how hard you shake them. That’s my feeling, anyway, and if it’s not yrs then I suggest that it will be once you’ve been subjected to the sound of this new release by Vom Grill.
The name itself is a trick, since the sounds are generated solely by the evil Belgian, Dennissssss Tyfusssssss. But naturally no one would even consider buying this things it it had Dennissssss’ name prominently attached, so they invented a fucking soubriquet for him – Vom Grill. What the fuck is that supposed to be? The name of Richard Meltzer’s new coffeeshop? Yeah, well – not hardly. This particular Vom Grill abortion is a three track plunge into all that is annoying about Belgian food. The first course is like a melange of simpering, whining children, smeared with mayonnaise, croaking that they only want a peanut. It goes on for less than five minutes, but it feels like a week. The second track is Tyfusssss’ ignorant attempt to “just take a break, people.” He tries to calm the kids down by playing xylophone notes on his own rib cage, but he’s too fucking fat to pull it off, so he whistles mock-xylo notes while the kids fiddle around with some sort of pudding make from bread crumbs and gristle. Great. The final track is the sound of Vom being submerged in a vat of Belgian ale, bobbing to the surface with all his little electric thistles spinning while he burps for help. Like he really fucking wants it. In my day if someone was heard uttering this sort of nonsense we’d shove a little broom up his and/or her ass and make him and/or her wear a rubber glove on his and/or her head. What does Nyoukis do? He actually releases the shit. These laddies richly deserve each others’ company. What the fuck did we do to rate similarly shoddy treatment? Waiter? My check." - Byron Coley