Party like it’s 1986! We’re excited to announce a new release and a new artist on our label today.
Want to go to another world, but don’t feel like leaving your house? Let Slavdik’s Turk EP lift you into another universe – a universe of Eastern mystique, and most importantly, a world of party!
The Turk was originally released in 1986. Though it received international attention, it’s become increasingly elusive. No longer! You can listen to the digitally remastered EP on Bandcamp and all streaming services.
Rare, original vinyl copies of the EP are available for purchase on our website. Purchase of the vinyl EP includes a Bandcamp download code for the remastered digital version.
More Slavdik material is on the roster! Stay tuned.
More About Slavdik
Gather around, children. I’ve got a story to tell.
Long before machines controlled the world, human rhythms controlled the world. And in the dark recesses of the soul of a young man troubled by losing much, Slavdik was born.
The rhythm was pervasive. It infected his brain and demanded to come out in the form of fitful and capricious dance, song, and vision. In 1984, he envisioned a world inspired by an Albanian rock ’n’ roll band formed in South Carolina, driven by pounding rhythms, sharp edges, and insightful messaging.
He gathered his flock and took to the road.
And so the beginning of a new world order commenced.
He was Kang. Kang Cotton.
Radiant in white dress, bejeweled and resplendent, from arresting kicks to gobs of hair product. His voice, nasal and melodic, spanned the sonic universe from a Bass II/Bass I crossover to the highest soprano squeaks and squawks. His movements, twisted and contorted, drove young women wild with fear and ecstasy.
He was a legend in his own mind.
He gathered his flock.
Borkum Riff, on vintage Stratocaster guitar with nuclear fingers and alien pedals galore. Borkum took the band to unimaginable heights with soaring solos and frantic funk paradigms.
Nails, of bass and weenie board. Melodic beyond his years, a thin heartbreaker with golden locks and a heart chock-full of pure gold.
Boy David, a hired gun and cross-dressing guitar virtuoso, part of a renowned local prog band and noted fellow bandmate of Ed Ray Monsoon. His appetite for collectible guitars, esoteric Scandinavian prog, and beautiful young ingénues was legendary.
Ed Ray Monsoon, another hired gun, remunerated in pizza, a mad scientist of nearly every instrument, including bass, guitar, keyboards, and saxophone. E.R. was a dazzling prog visionary, adding brilliant minutiae to the multiflorous.
Ramon, on skins and cymbals. His foot was legend. His knowledge of musical idioms was beyond compare. His aura simply drove the young ladies wild.
The Dikettes. Because every great rock ’n’ roll band needs hot, gyrating background singers, the band was forced to employ their wives.
On any given Saturday, Slavdik took to the stage and became the greatest band in the world.
Slavdik’s first release, the extended play The Turk (1987), was a smorgasbord of original delights, including The Turk, a penetrating synth/rap song featuring elements of Khachaturian’s Sabre Dance and pounding tribal riffs that caused young, frenzied women to dance like Egyptians.
The EP also included (I Hate) Party Talking, a pulsating, danceable tome on self-doubt at parties, offering insight every young hormonal man desperately needs; BBQ Hut, a ferocious ode to a caveman approach to eating South Carolina barbecue; and Karl Marx, He No Dead, a cerebral Ivy League choral blues/reggae stomp exploring the contributions of the famous founder of Marxism and his indelible imprint on Western civilization.
The band went on to work on eight more brilliant songs at Greenville, South Carolina’s PleasureMatic Studios. Several of these tunes have seen the light of day, while others await their turn to shine in the sun.
Stay tuned.
The seeds of Slavdik’s destruction were sown in these dark days as its gifted and handsome musicians slowly drifted apart, victims of the typical destructive forces of rock ’n’ roll: kids, other callings, and driving distances.
Because the band operated right at the transition between the 1980s tape-trading era and early indie vinyl, they remain an intentional enigma to music collectors today. In vinyl and crate-digging communities, Slavdik’s physical releases are considered incredibly rare finds. The elusive Turk EP lingers in independent music databases such as Discogs, where collectors presumably hunt for it at flea markets, estate sales, and the occasional darkened record store.
And so now we are left with only memories.
Lone cries in the wind from mountaintops, delta blues dens, rustic country honky-tonks, and punk-rock dives, blubbering for Slavdik to return and save us.
Save the planet.
Save rock ’n’ roll.
Save us all.
