Iron Maiden Voyage

by Valtozash

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    A cold-hard copy of Valtozash's hot-solid debut release, Iron Maiden Voyage.

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1.
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06:30
3.
4.

about

Debut EP by the brutal Australian jazz-metal big band, Valtozash.

credits

released September 17, 2016

Recorded by Mark Smith and Dave Parnell, and Real Productions. Mixed by Mark Smith.
Mastering by Daniel Fournier and Cparis.

John Stefulj - soprano saxophone, bass clarinet, baritone saxophone,
Julian Palma - alto saxophone, flute, baritone saxophone,
Yori Dade - baritone saxophone,
Jacob Hills - trumpet,
John Grainger - trumpet,
Paul Black - trombone,
Seans Mackenzie - bass trombone,
Lachlan Bell - guitar,
Zac Sakrewski - bass,
Ben Shannon - drums, Yamaha drums.

All tracks arranged by Andre Bonetti, tracks 3 and 4 original.
Vibraphone / MalletKat, management, production and artwork by Andre Bonetti

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Valtozash Brisbane City, Australia

Valtozash is the world's first jazz-metal big band. It’s a seventeen-piece thrash against your jazz-bone; it’s a jab in the eye with a sopranino saxophone; a punch in the jaws with a 24” trash cymbal. Your ears will bleed with delight; your heart will marry a bass drum; you will enjoy the pain of eating a trumpet with your ears. ... more

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Track Name: Moanin'
Ogh. Argh. Ye'. Play it blunt.
Track Name: Smokey Dokey Whiskey Cat Yazz Yeah
The whiskey club was packed, I’d decided on the abstract fact that these cats should make tracks and leave me to distract the broad in black. Fair hair and the usual wear and tear of a broad unaware of the scare I’d slipped in her glassware.
She drinks it down, a slight frown as she stares at the crown of the glass, her demeanor, her class slips away as she realises that slight taste of brass, lemongrass and hydroxylpropyltrimonium will soon lead to pandemonium and nauseaum as she travels to her home condominium.
...she stumbles out the door
A long story short, just for sport, I follow her a block, until her steps distort, her stomach retorts and I resort to carrying my consort. Almost home, her mouth oozing the boozing foam, I ignore the sick and gore on my draws as we reach my apartment floor.

We’re home. I unplug the telephone, the drone and moan of traffic and city violence comes to silence as I lower the inch-thick glass. Her face is concerned now she’s discerned my holistic and masochistic selection of sadistic antiquities. It’s pleasing to tease. I slowly and dramatically, gradually but unalterably scrape a scalpel along her scapula. “Nothing sexual”, I explain, trying to contain both a leak in her vein and my own vane veneer.
While she can’t much Move she can construe, I assure You, Just the same she can feel the pain of candle flame, or how the sting lingers as I slowly break her fingers.

This past time of attrition is the cause of 10 years a statistician, not exactly my own volition but an unconscious decision to destroy the mediocrity and stupidity surrounding me.

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