Nadayadayeller by Mangabros

"Ballardian psycho bluesmen" hailing from northern England. Elements of electronica and post-rock bruise hips on the dance floor with broken ballads, orchestral and avant-garde/noise. No rules.

Described as 'the bones of Burroughs and Rhinehart, ground up and snorted...". These are 'songs' but not as we know 'em.

“Brave and uncompromising”
-- Bill Nelson

“...really good shit that brings back fond memories of places I’ve never been, which is something interesting music always should do...”
-- Jim Fairchild ( Grandaddy, Modest Mouse)

"Nadayadayeller is a bountiful, intoxicating, existential masterpiece, a Mangabros sequel that stands on its own brilliant accord. Dig deep into it. Let it dig deep into you. Experiences like this - life lessons like this - only come, well, once in a lifetime."
-- Bizarrechats
"So, the unfurling, but not quite fully revealing of the fragile narrative construct of Nada and ‘Z’. Sumptuous and texturally encompassing, aptly womblike with its deep cosmic interiors, soporific beats (in a good way) and Bristolian trip hop vibes. It feels underwater, almost, the lullaby for drowning orphans. Sweet melodies with dark golden sepia undertones. If Guillermo del Toro were to turn his hand to songwriting this would be the outcome. Poetic, half-glimpsed, exquisitely grotesque progtronica. It reminds me of a fusion of a Suspiria-era GOBLIN, channeling the claustrophobic asthmatic early TRICKY and the Illbient urban pallet of DJ SPOOK. TOM WAITS, VAN VLIET, PETER HAMMILL and SCOT WALKER kinda rear their heads too, in the exploratory nature of the tunesmithery, vocal delivery and tonal arrangements. The soft workings of the larynx are tested to the limit here. Hope Mr Manga is well soon 😉"
-- OutPost

Z walks out of a desert test-site, teetering on the edge of oblivion, naked, eyeless, without memory, hair, teeth and fingertips. There is a scar, however, low on his torso in the form of a misshapen letter 'z'. Who is he? Meanwhile, unborn mutation, Nada, dreams in her ‘crawlspace of the gods’ (“where is mom in all all of this?”), spinning her own mythos , creating false pasts, present, futures near and far…

Nada dreams of multiple lives: nuclear dreams of girlhood in Nagashima, days in Danzig nurtured by her defecting rocket scientist father, and those days on the run, holed out in a pink bordello in Mexico, burning barns and bigger things because fire was part of her, her genes, her make-up.
If pushed, we should reveal that Z is her true father, irradiated from nuclear tests in Albuquerque, his poison sperm made of her what she is. Part fiction, part past. But always unborn, adrift in limbo, genetically mutated to dream such potential futures. Z, after all, is merely an N on its side.

The Submarine Broadcasting Company is an independent label showcasing the best in experimental, left-field and art-house music.

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