Recorded in the basement of 136 Western Rd, Brighton on March 18th 2008.

New digital version includes remastered full quality audio and 17 page pdf with artwork and images from the recording.

Words about this release by Nigel Johnson:

"Genius DIY. A small cardboard box, tied with string, stamped, addressed, "TRUNK" writ large arrives. This is a Woodland Recordings release, limited to 50 and as with all their releases you never know what you might find inside - besides the CD. I remove the string and tear of masking tape that seals the box; inside, two monochrome cards, gothic, mysterious, anatomical. From these I learn: (i) the track list, (ii) that my copy is no. 15, (iii) who's who, (iv) that the CD was recorded in one day in a Brighton basement and (v) what remains if you suck the flesh and innards from a frog. Next, a small, clear plastic bag containing a leaf. The CD which states simply "dainty green"; beneath, a blurred black and white photo: a patchwork composite, a faint silhouette of indistinct structures, a murky wasteland of creamy greys viewed through a drape of divergent, veiny strands; but only because I choose to view it this way up! Finally, a pristine portion of an envelope with a Berlin postmark, dated May 1987. The addressee is Salamon of H. Steinhauser Str 18, Offenbach. And I wonder if the leaf is a symbol of the organic nature of the creative process, the photo a visual representation of the music and if the German envelope refers to the supreme efficiency of knocking out a great mini album in one day? Nah, just random stuff.

The music then......

a. Prelude Midst fuzz and click a not so cutesy "Close Encounters..." event unfolds.
c. Lest You Should See It Plinky keyboard and acoustic guitar intertwine and a sweet naivety pervades.
ca. The Reader (Pt. 1) Sometimes keeping it simple for three minutes is it's own reward and if it opens a door to a chill blast and......
co. Zephyr ......something darker, where an accordion clings to life but loses the fight as percussive scavengers pick at the stricken beast, then so much the better.
n. The Boy Who Cried Frogs Borderline cacophonous gem. A treated vocal emerges from the metallic din to recount something frog-based and indecipherable, perhaps too terrible for the delicate listener so muddied beyond comprehension. A weary choral backing underlines the sense of foreboding. A brief lift in tempo is thought better of and the magnificent dirge is abruptly restored to continue to fade...and I imagine an alternate world where this permeates every radio station to thrill and disturb in equal measure.
ost. West Door The hinges need oiling, the needles stuck in the run off groove and tunes are overrated.
pco. Cynophobia A dishevelled automaton innocuously strums to the rhythm of it's own clapped out mechanics.
pl. Imagine My Horror ...Indeed. A simple plucked motif, taut, suspenseful, hangs by an irregular beat for as long as is necessary - 43 seconds apparently.
sc. The Reader (Pt. 2) Pt. 1 cosmetically enhanced but curtailed before the sugar-coating cloys.
sq. Corridor There's something in that corridor; I like the sound of it, but I don't want to meet it.
ssc. Swungbulb A clockwork beat paces nervously, finds the courage to blow me a kiss then hastily leaves.
sl. I Hate You Dad We All Do (What a crushing title.) From the pitch depths and night sounds of the crazed machinist's jungle a wonky guitar, flighty keyboard and strangled vocal rouse themselves for brief dalliances of varying moods. Glimmers of light bring false hope as dawn never breaks and the jungle clatter inevitably swallows rhythm and melody alike.

There you have it; a smidgen over 23 minutes of the sort of thing I get excited about. It's not an easy ride, far from it, but an aural challenge and the antithesis of Viva La Vida's bloated guff."