"The time is nigh," Monsieur le Duc texted me this morning. "I've completed my new album. It's my shortest yet." He says it is called SLAPJACK (not stylized as such)
The album, he tells me, has 15 songs, some of which are entirely "instrumental" (though Leduc is a little shy of instruments). This marks a first for the man, reason enough to donate ~35 minutes of your day to Spotify.
The songs? They are as follows (order TBD): 1. A Poem (instrumental)
2. Bad Bach (instrumental)
3. Born to do Nothing
4. China (instrumental)
5. Chubby Chaser
6. I Hate Buddha
7. Ithaca
8. Let's Make a Baby
9. Miranda's Theme (instrumental)
10. Mother Hen
11. Slapjack
12. The Battle of Eeep
13. The Living End (cover)
14. The Story of O (book report)
15. Would You Eat a Wild Peanut
The subject matter? Typical standard fare, he told me (he seems depressed). He is his rude old self. He says he is all alone, I told him not to worry, reason being we have finally gotten word, and Lotte Records has made $35.40, across the ten or so albums released by MLD, Hollister, and The Black Rondelles. Thank you, loyal listeners! Monsieur le Duc of course won't see any of this money, as it goes towards our debts, but money was never a concern for him (his wealth traces back to the pillages of the Normans).
The album art? Purportedly a self portrait of the artist. He is quite handsome.
To conclude, we have attached below the title track of the album (a rather inconsequential track with a good, short title which, as it turns out lends itself well to an album name (these are some of the most important tracks on albums)). In this song, Leduc is reluctantly assaulted by some frenemy named Flapjack, with a slapjack, during a game of blackjack (we've been informed there is subtext...)!
Bloomsday
Thursday, June 26, 2025
Another year in which Bloomsday passes by without my realizing it. It's been ten days since the 121st anniversary of the events proposed by James Joyce, and just as Leopold lived up to his contrived namesake, my website blooms a bit more today, Thursday, June 26th, 2025, 103 years after the publication Ulysses, the chronicling of the interior experiences of three individuals 121 years and 10 days ago.
Well, Joyce had no way of predicting that 44,205 days following the events laid out in his novel, that across the (Atlantic) ocean from Dublin, a man without any Irish blood would be listing for sale, on his own website, a landscape of a place he had never been, which lies not far from Dublin, only 380 kilometers away. Yes, a still life of the Sneem Tavern which overlooks the Sneem River, a place Joyce may have even visited prior to his self-imposed exile. Following said exile (ashplant in one hand, Barnacle in the other?), he very well may have also strolled past the other two areas of interest listed today, one which lies in the town of Reims, and one which lies just outside said town. James' eyesight was poor, so his internal impression was probably quite close to what has been laid out in acryllic on cardboard by me, if in fact he did cross such paths, despite the fact that I've never been to Reims (but I have been to France!). Synchronicity is a bitch in this way, I think Joyce said.
James Joyce never painted (from what I understand), and he never used Ableton either (though he was a talaeted singer), but he did write novels, this much I know to be true. And so, while my website blooms this fateful day, 44,205 days following the birth of Mina Purefoy's son, so do I in a sense, and in a way Joyce could better understand. I intend to begin work on my novel today. I will need to write it by hand, for personal reasons.
More to Come
Wednesday, June 18, 2025
In many ways, I feel there is more to come! Both in the intimate details of my life (unknowable to you, if indeed there is someone reading this, my intimate diary), as well as in my public pursuits (which are actually hidden from the public, but are findable in cyberspace.), there is, as I said, more to come! This is cause for excitement. I have spent the last few days on a beach getaway, getting brown and drinking keto beer, so now feel fully satiated and in control. Because of this, I have begun the process of pulling weeds which always precedes a release on my prestigious label.
Monsieur le Duc, a self-described francophile ashamed of his circumcision, an artist some of you may be familiar with, a loud-mouth recluse, recently got together with me and we began looking at his droppings, and have begun divining the future from them. As we gaze into them, we see an album approaching,
most likely it will come into light before the summer is over. It is his standard fare, he says, with some invention on his part in the realm of production, and a bit of stagnation as far as subject matter goes.
However, fans can sleep well at night knowing they will find it all quite familiar. He is still copying his favorites, and continues to plagiarize the world. I will keep you abrest as to the latest of his exploits.
In the world of me, Delax, the guy who runs this enterprise, the occasional Alway, I have recently been able tend to my garden. I have rediscovered literary fiction, and am fishing for a Bardot. Far away, on an island somewhere, I see an album of duets titled Sally Mara's Intimate Diary. If you are a baby doll in search of immortality, you can always contact me at lotterecords@gmail.com, y'know.
What else? I am enjoying the new Adam Curtis documentary Shifty, as is common for people my age with habits like mine.
Launching Lotte
Tuesday, June 10, 2025
Good evening.
Where I am, on the east coast, its almost thirty minutes to midnight, which means its almost the eleventh, which, this time around, means its almost Wednesday. The weather was fine today, but I stayed inside, coding HTML and sticking my finger into GitHub's repositories, and now my finger stinks, but the website is almost up! DNS stuff is getting in the way, so me and her are making small talk, and I'm blogging to mask my annoyance. Her Uber must have flipped. I go back and forth refreshing, but these things aren't for you. These are the dirty things IT guys have to do to make their nut, in addition to scraping dried flecks of old coffee off their lanyards, dusting CPUs, and applying Dude Wipes to the pale undersides of their rancid gynecomastias.
The website is to be the repository of all my little things, all these things that I do that I keep to myself, because they're not for anybody, but everyone, I wish, would devour each and every little thing I do, except for my family. Now they will be able to. And once I am in what I will elusively call the Square, I will have access to a scanner, and my visual things, just as ill-born as my audible things, will be engraved in the granite.
It is 11:38 PM, and the DNS check is successful! Yes, now lotterecords.com is live, and we can all drink.
