There is something alluring, at least to me, about a cassette-only release of well-constructed noise. The Post Spiderhole Ensemble is just one dude, a German named A.K. (Andrew Kemp), but damn if Herr Kemp doesn’t make some delicious and decidedly beautiful sonic trouble here on False Alarms and Excess Baggage. The word “collage” comes to mind as you dive in here. There are bells and whistles and motherfucking melody, too. “Precious Fragments” kicks things off with some nifty little indie rock (imagine a bunch of super stoned music nerds holed up in a basement somewhere doing bongs and making magic) walled in by killer sad clown horns and buzzy machinery. If you dig old Fly Ashtray, you’ll love it.

As the record progress, Kemp adds in touches of goth-y drone that is reminiscent of the kind of babies Tones on Tail and Coil would have had if they were on a codeine binge. So good. I really like this cassette a lot. It’s got that familiar lo-fi buzz crackling all through it that reminds me of an old Sears stereo I had growing up. Everything I listened to on it sounded warm and loving and imperfect. False Alarms and Excess Baggage has been in the making for the past 15 years and that both bums me out and makes me smile. I’m bummed because it tells me I could have been enjoying some of these nuggets for the past decade and a half and I’m smiling because Kemp cares enough about his art to be thoughtful in how he releases it.

“Shattered Knees” is all bassy throb, weaving in and out of distorted treble heavy guitar-ish noise. The vocals add to the hypnosis of it all and lend to the languid head bobs I can’t help but do as I listen. A.K. gets you moving on this record. I wish there was a chronological order as to when the songs were recorded because there does seem to be progress here as around track 8 (“Ships In The Sand”), which is one of the few slightly forgettable tracks on here, there does seem to be a shift in production values.

It would also be great to have information as to how A.K.’s influences expanded over the 15 years these songs were being made. “Grin At The Sun,” for example, sounds like a deconstructed Strokes song. Was he listening to a lot of Strokes when he made this? I’d love to know! The rock and roll ecstasy that is “Trust The Dollar” is all new wave, fuzz, and we’re back to the indie rockers in the basement, although the weed has worn off and the caffeine has kicked in here. Is there anything better than a great riff that is kinda backwards and weird? This song is kinda like something corporate Beck, not young, cool Beck, would have written and then thought, “No, the record label won’t go for this.”

Perhaps the greatest thing about this cassette, though, is that it gives hope. It is filled with hope, really. The hope for more of The Post Spiderhole Ensemble music in the future. The hope that anyone with some good ideas and the patience to learn some tech and put it all together can make a wonderfully fun and clever record. The hope that it will never end, even though “Paris, With the Same Age On His Bathtub” ends this cassette perfectly.