Monolithic is the new owner of Invisible Caterpillar Records
After 20+ years, ICR has a new home. Same 1-person show, same huge catalogue of music and video, new Management. Welcome, new listeners and old!
Complete Discography - Invisible Caterpillar Records
eNuminous & Archimedes
Collaboration With the Circuit (2010)
A Frankenstein jam session between broken oscillators and half-asleep poets; circuits collaborating mostly by shorting out in rhythm. Think solder fumes, drum machines coughing, and a band arguing with electricity.
Swamp Bell Aardvarking (2018)
Muddy jazz riffs stumble into surreal swamps while aardvarks toll cathedral bells. It’s blues played through a snorkel, the gospel of mud, and a zoological brass band that refuses to leave rehearsal.
Extraordinary Rendition (2018)
Political satire wrapped in found sound and dark cabaret. A choir of kidnapped melodies confess in falsetto while a typewriter keeps time. It’s a black comedy about bureaucracy as percussion.
It’s Not Music For Sane Persons (2018)
Discordant lullabies that refuse to stay in key. Radios fight violins, static romances guitars. Anyone still listening by the third track has either lost their mind or finally found it.
Eyelid/Fetish (2020)
Anxious nocturne: eyes half-open, dreaming of machines. Tape loops breathe like lungs, beats flirt with nightmares. Fetish objects whisper soliloquies until dawn decides it’s too much.
Unprecedented Chutzpah (2020)
Loud brass swagger meets klezmer-punk apocalypse. The album dares you to be offended and succeeds before the first track ends. Every chorus is a lawsuit waiting to be filed.
Mythical Permissions (2020)
Prog-folk incantations, sung in legal disclaimers. Harpsichords duel drum machines. The myth grants permission, then immediately revokes it. Expect to be cursed, blessed, and audited.
Angular Momentum in Shadow the Birds Rotating Universe (2020)
A physics lecture delivered by a drunk heron over drone metal. Guitars circle like satellites, percussion precesses like planets, and the universe keeps losing its balance but never its rhythm.
Sounds Calliope Makes Standing in the Rain (2020)
Steam organs weep in a thunderstorm; every drop a note, every puddle a hymn. Street carnival collapses into melancholia. A soaked carnival barker narrates the end of vaudeville.
Deep Red Bass (2020)
Fathoms of distortion, submarine funk. Every bass note bubbles up like an oil spill. Jazz divers try to surface but keep getting pulled back into the abyss.
Citi Zen One: Soundpoems & Birdsong for Concrete (2020)
Urban haiku over jackhammer beats. Pigeons replace flutes, traffic lights pulse like sequencers. A sonic zine stapled together from subway noise and protest chants.
Negative Space (2020)
The music is what isn’t there: pauses stretched into landscapes, silence looped as melody. Ghost guitars haunt the mix, whispering that less really is less, and therefore more.
Bargain Basement Impressionism (2020)
Discount Monet at a thrift store. Synths smudge like cheap watercolors, beats crumble like wet paper. Every track is a clearance-rack hallucination.
Waves of Eternity Lapping at the Shore (That’s What I Call Spoopy) (2020)
Halloween meets surf rock, produced by a ghost with a hangover. Skeletons ride longboards; haunted theremins surf the mix. Spoopy, not scary — the future of kitsch.
Musical Hoax of the Century (2020)
Each song is a forgery, every melody stolen, inverted, or mocked. Imagine plagiarism as art form, lawsuits as liner notes. The century is young; the hoax is already old.
Writ & Corpuscle [Five Lives of God] (2020)
A theological concept album in five confusing movements. Divine jazz gives way to courtroom arias. The deity in question might be the bassist, but no one is sure.
Outcasts & Miscreants: Oddities 2005–2021 (2021)
A scrapheap anthology — demos, accidents, field recordings, failed anthems. The miscreants shine brighter than the hits. Outcasts finally headline.
Eyelid Fetish Redux (2021)
The original album re-dreamed after too much espresso. Faster, twitchier, fetish objects upgraded from vinyl to hologram. Like déjà vu with teeth.
The Great Machine Doesn’t Help (L’Institut Pour La Conservation Des Formes De Vie Artificiellement Intelligentes) (2021)
An AI museum soundtrack, performed by ghosts of obsolete operating systems. The machine is indifferent, the institute is imaginary, the life forms are all too real.
Mirror Music [Simulation Theory] (2021)
Hall of mirrors: every song reflects another, but backwards, distorted, pixelated. Simulation theory set to waltz. You are both the dancer and the echo.
Mozart Machine Music (2021)
A classical composer resurrected inside a drum machine. Mozart remixed into EDM fugues, sonatas as rave anthems. Genius meets circuit board, neither wins.
A Dream of Paris (2021)
Accordion nostalgia filtered through cyberpunk neon. Lovers kiss under glitching streetlamps. Paris, but only in a dream — and the dream insists on auto-tune.
Positive Space (2021)
Optimism as architecture: tracks build scaffolds of major chords, then hang graffiti all over them. Space not empty, but insistently filled with sound.
The Bathtub Sessions (2021)
Recorded in porcelain reverb, soap bubbles as percussion. A lo-fi masterpiece of intimacy, rubber duck solos included. Cleanliness never sounded so avant-garde.
O Captain (2022)
Nautical shanties mutate into prog-rock epics. Every verse salutes the absurdity of leadership. The captain sinks, the band keeps playing.
I’m Just Wild About Myths (2022)
Tin Pan Alley tunes stumble into mythology. Minotaurs sing torch songs, Sphinxes scat in 3/4 time. A joke, a myth, and a broken piano walk into a bar.
The Great City [Sleepless & Melodium] (2022)
Insomniac metropolis as symphony. Neon flickers, sirens harmonize, and skyscrapers hum lullabies no one sleeps through. Concrete has a melody if you listen hard enough.
Artificial Life (2022)
Synthetic ballads for imaginary beings. Machines fall in love, badly. Auto-tune croons sincerity while silicon hearts break on beat.
Rock N’ Roll Wasteland (2022)
A post-apocalyptic jukebox stuck between punk and despair. Every track smells of gasoline and regret. Rock isn’t dead, it’s scavenging.
The Age of Machine Beauty (2024)
Industrial grace, gears pirouette, algorithms flirt. The machines are beautiful, and they know it. Humanity is just lucky to be invited.
Sing Like Robots (About Robots) (2024)
Children’s choir rewired into android glee club. Robots sing about robots, badly, beautifully. The chorus is binary, the verses are oddly touching.
The Profane Joy of Satanic Panic Lyrics and Other Songs (2024)
Heavy-metal satire disguised as liturgy. Every riff a sermon, every hook a scandal. Panic never sounded so joyful.
American Antifa Central Committee (2024)
Political punk opera disguised as corporate minutes. Anarchists in ties, guitars in spreadsheets. Every chorus votes itself into chaos.
February 30th 1912: LIVE! at The Hippodrome, London (2024)
A concert that never happened, on a day that never existed. Phantom applause, imaginary ticket stubs, orchestras of absinthe hallucinations. The definitive live album of nowhere, forever.
Millie Sievert & The Radioactive Five
Fissionable Mass
Nothing, Nothing, No Thing, Nothing Nothing
Time-Knapped Chanteuse
Where Are You, Brilburne Logue? (2024)
Kubla Khan Your Dome Is Dust (And So Perhaps Are All Of Us)
The Forgotten Shore
Millie Sievert (special collabs)
Operation Sunflower (with Matthew Chenoweth Wright, Faust Jones, backed by eNuminous & Archimedes)
Faust Jones & The Chronologically Impaired
Ourobouros Universe
Millie Sievert, Will You Marry Me?
Rosegarden Physics
Faust Jones (special)
Operation Sunflower (see above)
Various singles & live performances (dates scattered)
Glörp
Glörp (self-titled debut)
Alpha
Matthew Chenoweth Wright
Logos
The Storm Will Remember Us
Single & Video: Pines [A Free People Howling Mix]
Operation Sunflower (collab with Faust & Millie, backed by eNuminous & Archimedes)
Brenda Volz
404 Love Not Found
Gutterdevice
Black Prayer
The Velvet Saab
Moist Muse
The Fireouettes
Time to Leisure