Regular price $0.00 Sale

Here is the May 2019 Newsletter, emailed at the start of the month to our mailing list and sent hard copy with all instore orders.

To join our mailing list, scroll down to find the form.

To read more Lulu's Newsletters, click here.


Featured in this newsletter







Well hello and welcome to another edition of LuNews. As we head towards the depths of winter, we take warmth from the AFL season reaching its quarter-way mark.
Where the wheat is sorted from the chaff and the heat of the narratives intensify. At these early stages we’re most impressed by the way in which the      Melbourne Football Club has already ruined its much-hyped season. Another false dawn beckons for a team with more talent than heart. The  blowtortch is on Brad Scott and his listless Roos. Carlton still don’t know how to win. How long will their fans  maintain the faith in the longest re-build in AFL history? Speaking of   rebuilds – the Swans have   finally admitted they’ve committed to one themselves – be nice to enjoy a September without them tbh. The Dogs are heading for a third consecutive year out of the finals after their against-the-odds Flag in ’16 – it’s almost scandalous the way they’ve nosedived since that fateful day.  The Suns will drop off again after a bright start. Have the Eagles been getting on it with the alumni of the ’06 out West? Hangover  narrative beckons. Will Clarko build this Hawks team into a premiership side for his swansong? Can the Dons sustain this style of footy deep into the Winter? Let’s hope the pre-season training camp of ’17 keeps haunting the Crows. Seems inevitable that Richmond are destined for another finals appearance despite a mountain of top-flight personnel injured. This Lions team seems destined for glory, look out in 2020. The Saints will inevitably gas it after a bright start. Port and Freo are pretenders surely. It’s all about Geelong. Giants & Pies this year for mine. We’ll speak again at the half-way point for more narratives and assessments. Until then, enjoy responsibly, and come and buy some records.
Love Lulu’s



‘Falha Comum’ is the latest release from Sao Paulo’s RAKTA. Tumble into a 36 minute black hole of swampy, pulsating, harpy chaos. You might just like it. ;) 



Innumerable Forms have been one of modern America’s finest death doom metal acts for years. Strong influence was present in the early recordings from the Finnish hordes of apocalyptic death metal such as Abhorrence and Crypt Of Cerberos, as well as North American legends Incantation and Immolation, and more recently elements of Australian pioneers diSEMBOWELMENT have all been harnessed and given way to a frozen current all of its own.

The songs travel between haunting, slow, and heavily down tuned passages, explosions of violent riffs enunciated by thumping drums, and almost divine guitar melodies which seep further into the abyss of your mind than you can imagine, with exquisitely executed changes in direction. The music is densely atmospheric and undeniably powerful. A rumbling chasm of a very dark and very tangible current. Much of the power is displayed in the steady and determined nature of the performances, and the vocals encapsulate every essence of the atmosphere touched upon in this review. Experiences of a live sets some years ago left me with no doubt that Innumerable Forms is one of the greatest bands I’d ever bare witness. A cold rejoice in the bleakness and torment. Awakened consciousness of the once dreaming son coming to grips with the nature of the harsh and relentless warrior Goddess of love and destruction and the Demiurge.

On this album all three feel one and the same. The child, the scimitar and the cage. Crawling chaos crystallised into a frozen womb of gross and dense matter. Doom. A embattled gnostic soul betrayed by hope of escape. Blasts. Almost defeated yet still raging. Crushing. Until the ultimate breath. Darkness. Punishment in flesh.



‘Hip Blister’ showcases two of Melbourne’s finest pop acts: Anti-Fade-ees, Parsnip, and your favourite lowdown lo-fiers, ‘The Shifters’. Parsnip’s half of the record is whimsical and floaty, but is grounded by some off-kilter melodies and some comically scolding lyrics (see, ‘Hip Blister’). ‘Dailybreader’ brings some of the 60’s sunny psych that I anticipated to hear from the band, especially after seeing the cover art for their debut S/T 7”. The song kinda makes me imagine a cult-like commune all dressed in the same bright coloured clothes, holding hands and singing the song together in a circle. The Shifters introduce themselves on the record by presenting a cynical take on social-media fuelled narcissism with ‘Photo Op’ – a sort of sister song to the similarly biting ‘Work/Life, Gym Etc’, taken from their 2018 debut LP. The lyrics are funny, ‘cause everyone knows someone like frontman Miles is describing - but what can you say to them? The answer is nothing - let him do the talking. The next track, ‘Conscript’, sacrifices relatability for more political leanings, and has the decency to warn you about the contextual shift by proclaiming “Ok, it’s January 1966”. It’s gloomy and sinister, probably a lot like the military situation being detailed in the lyrics.

The pairing of the bands makes for a cohesive listen, as they share the same poppy tendencies and wry quipping being filtered thru a lo-fi lens. I like it a lot, but it’s a shame they missed the opportunity to name the record ‘ParSHnIFT’.




Kaneko Fumiko spent the vast majority of her short time on this earth exploited, destitute, and alone. On September 3rd, 1923 – two days after the Great Kantō Earthquake literally ripped Tokyo apart, the Japanese Imperial government took advantage of the widespread chaos to arrest (and in some cases outright murder) Socialists, Communists, labour groups, and any other left-leaning political figures that they had been keeping tabs on. Fumiko, who had - alongside her partner Pak Yeol – formed an anarchist nihilist group called Futeisha with the sole intention of disrupting and destabilizing the government and all other figures of authority, was arrested and charged with plotting to assassinate the Japanese Emperor Hirohito.

As was the protocol at the time, defendants were able to submit a written account of their life up until that point to be taken into consideration by their judge. This is that document, written by Kaneko Fumiko in her jail cell in the time leading up to her trail. It is fascinating, charming, infuriating and heartbreaking without peer. A comprehensive and exhausting account of every failure of hierarchical society, and a damnation of authority figures everywhere. A welcome reminder that you don’t “owe” your boss, your parents, your state, your elders, or your scene anything. ACAB ACAB ACAB but also APAB, ATAB, AGAB and whoever the fuck else thinks that they hold power over you because of their social position.

Kaneko Fumiko and Pak Yeol were both charged with high treason and sentenced to the death penalty. Ten days later they were offered a pardon; their sentences would be reduced to life in prison as an expression of the “merciful benevolence of the emperor”. All they would have to do was express their gratitude and accept. Pak Yeol accepted the offer and was eventually released in October 1945 after 22 years behind bars. Kaneko Fumiko stared the prison chief directly in the eye and tore her pardon certificate to shreds.

After spending the first three months of her prison sentence refusing to work, she eventually requested to be rostered on to the task of weaving hemp ropes. The morning after her first shift Kaneko Fumiko was found hanging from the roof of her cell from a rope of her own making. She was 23 years old.


Hard to believe it’s been seven years since we last heard from this cru but ‘Made in China’ is the kind of glorious racket we were all waiting for. 

 Life, millions of projects and tambourine intensives may come and go but Georgia, Snake, Moses and DX sure as hell haven’t lost any of their muscle on sabbatical and are still fighting the good fight - riff after riff sounds as fresh and classic as ever and cements the bands status in the current lexicon. 

 New additions Tommy Testicles and Latex Lori (I’m going to assume these nicknames are affectionate) ain’t no slouches either and that extra layer of synthesis propels the group to new sonic heights. 

 Primary vocalist Marcus Rechsteiner is as on point as always - running the gamut of the Freudian psyche with the nuance of a pro wrestler. Someone get me to an exorcist. 

 Bonus points for JR Streicher’s inimitable interpretation of Shane Warne’s backyard mural, Centrelink lyric sheet translated by Caitlin Mason, Moses’ long awaited vocal debut and “includes free download of entire album” sticker on sleeve so you know you’re not just taking this baby home. 

Turn off your mind and bathe in UV Know.