by Andrew Liles

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    1 Sticker: 'Black Metal'. Designed Christophe 'Lord Of The Logos' Szpajdel. Glossy red logo on clear sticker. 12cm x 12cm. NOTE: THIS STICKER IS VERY DIFFICULT TO REMOVE FROM IT'S BACKING PLEASE BE EXTRA CAREFUL WHEN REMOVING.
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  • There are a number of records that I sentimentalise, rightly or wrongly, regardless of their musical importance or wider artistic significance. They mark transitions in my personal or emotional life, or they are simply a soundtrack to a moment locked in time.

    On my birthday, March 11th 1985 one such ‘personal’ album was released. The Sisters of Mercy L.P. ‘First and Last and Always’.

    30 years later to the exact day I released my version of ‘First and Last and Always’ as ‘First Monster Last Monster Always Monster’. Another instalment in the MONSTER set of releases. ‘First Monster Last Monster Always Monster’ is an instrumental, electronic adaptation of the entire Sisters album. My version to some may be a travesty, deemed a novelty recording, even considered sacrilege by others, the devil may care but I don’t mind, those opinions do not concern me. This is my heartfelt homage to a moment in time and a wonderful album.
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    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality downloads of INSELAFFE, VAINGLORIOUS, MORAL NIHILIST PART FIVE (SALVATION DELUSION), GOD CAN'T SAVE, CULTURAL STUDIES - MODULE 1., IDIOPATHIC RENAISSANCE, dB, EYES OF TIME, and 118 more. , and , .

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Femme Fatale 03:21
Dead Zone 01:40
Wild Boar 03:32
THE NUMB SENSATION The numb sensation? It started last Wednesday, I think. Maybe it was the week before, maybe… in fact it was last month, or was it last year? Possibly it was the year before. The thing is, I just can’t remember anymore, time has lost its meaning. There is no time. No tick, no tock. It started in the tips of my fingers, I just couldn’t feel anything. Nothing at all. It began as a prickling sensation which then turned into a dull and cold feeling. Then nothing. I put them in ice cold water but that had no reaction. I put them in the fire, nothing. I even began to cut them off, nothing. Not even a vague burning feeling, not even so much as a tickle. I assaulted my thumb with a hammer, hitting away until the bone was as flat as a butter knife, but still NOTHING. No sensation whatsoever. Shortly after, maybe a week later, or a month, maybe it was even a year, it could have even been two years. I just have no idea of time anymore. The rest of my body began to go the same way as my fingers. First my toes, no feeling at all, then the whole of one leg and one arm, then the other arm and the other leg. My lips, my ears, my torso, my mouth, my breasts, and lastly, my vagina. Numb, numb, numb. All sense of touch and feeling vanished. I rubbed my body with a wire brush and sandpaper, I still felt nothing. I pulled teeth from my mouth without any suffering. I even smashed my skull against the floor without even the slightest twinge of pain. Intimate tingles of joy, the warmth of the radiating sun on my back, and ice melting in-between my fingers would no longer be simple pleasures. No feelings, no sense, no pain, no ecstasy, nothing, nothing, nothing. But where was that voice coming from? I couldn’t quite hear it properly. What was it saying? It was a muted voice, sounding as if it were underwater, or like someone talking with their mouth full of mashed potatoes. It kept on saying the same thing. Something I could not decipher or understand, yet in some strange way it sounded familiar. Curiously, at around this time, the drizzle started. The days were lit with a strange haze, almost like dusk or dawn, but not quite. A bright grey, an eternal foggy day of a miserable hue. It rained and rained, fine mists of rain. The mists of rain swept around me, yet I could not feel them. I had no sensations, no sense of touch, no feeling. The haze was thick and went on and on, there was no end to it. The strange thing was that night never seemed to fall and day never seemed to break. It was a perpetual twilight. No beginning, no end. It was claustrophobic and mildly irritating and continued relentlessly. Through the mists I could only see a few metres in front of me, and no matter how far I ventured, I always found myself back where I started. Another phenomenon was occasionally there would be a momentary blast of bright light in my eyes, then instantly the drizzle would swamp everything again. The voice continued to babble in its dull, repetitive way. A murmur from deep underground. No definition, no clarity. It seemed to emanate from the back of the inside of my head. Saying the same thing over and over. I had no idea if it was saying something reassuring or menacing. Now accompanying the voice I could hear a very faint melody, something I vaguely remembered from my distant past but could not recall exactly where from. What was it? Was I going insane? What did it all mean? Did it mean anything at all? The voice in my head, the voice with no concise message, the voice with no fidelity, continued, on and on and on. Though now more insistent. More desperate. I could not unravel its meaning or purpose. I could tell from it’s muffled intonation and tempo that the message was now more urgent. The melody also continued to play, circling around and around in my brain, swirling in the far distance. But what could it be? Then it dawned on me after some time, maybe a week later, or a month, or a year, where was everyone? I hadn’t seen anyone for weeks, possibly months or years. It was very strange, why had I not seen anyone? The telephone didn’t ring, there were no letters delivered, no people in the world at all. Where had they all gone? Not only were there no people, but the world no longer seemed to make a sound. The traffic had vanished, the birds no longer sung, there were no aircraft above my head, none of the clattering of everyday life, or buzz of electronics, or idiosyncratic sounds of nature, no sounds at all. I wasn’t deaf, I was aware that I could still hear, I heard my breath, it was a slow, laboured breath. I was so tired, yet could not and did not sleep. My deep breaths continued, yet the world outside had faded away. What was happening to me? Could I be dead? We all know there is no God or heaven or afterlife or reincarnation. Death is where everything fades to black forever. In theory I was still conscious. But then it happened. For some reason I must have fallen asleep after all those days, possibly weeks, maybe even years. I was falling into a dream. A whirling psychedelic vortex, winding through colourful tunnels and expansive oceans, flying high over mountains and into deep blue skies. The world began to become colourful and vibrant once more. Everything was going to be normal again, I could just feel it. A sweet smell of spring and freshly mown grass gave me a sense of well-being. The rattling sounds of life re-emerged and the mists dissipated. I awoke, crashing into reality. My toes began to tingle, then defrost back to normality, my hands could feel the crisp sheets wrapped around me. I could feel the warmth of fresh linen and hear an abundance of machines and people going about their business. The smell of fruit and flowers filled my nose with perfumed joy. An overwhelming sense of calm and relief filled my heart. The once dull voice was now crystal clear to my ears. I knew who it was, he held my hand, and spoke in soft tones of care and affection. I knew exactly what had a happened, it all made sense to me now. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, a new and unknown voice in a firm and emotionless timbre said “There is no hope, It’s over”. A rush of panic violently shook me. They had made a mistake. “No wait, I’m still here” I screamed. There was a click, everything faded to black. Forever.


This recording was originally released in 2014 on L.P.

Wanton Wives is an array of faux Giallo soundtracks and music created for imaginary horror films, influenced by such maestros as Donald Rubinstein, John Carpenter, Fabio Frizzi and Ennio Morricone. The tracks cover a vast amount of ground including austere orchestral pieces, voodoo drums, torture porn, possession, cheesy 80′s soundtracks, Giallo, 70′s synths and Mellotrons.

The last track is a horror story written by Liles which was translated and narrated in French by Isabelle Magnon. Saxophone comes from Quentin Rollet.

As with ‘THE MALEFICENT MONSTER & OTHER MACABRE STORIES’ the artwork comes from Graham Humphreys the revered British designer and illustrator responsible for some of the best film posters of the 1980′s including Evil Dead, Nightmare on Elm Street and album covers for The Cramps and The Lords of the New Church.



released December 25, 2014


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Andrew Liles UK

Andrew Liles is a prolific solo artist, producer, remixer and sometime member of Nurse With Wound and Current 93.

Guide to downloads:

Green Border: Liles Solo Releases.

Green Image: Monster Releases.

Green Circles: Monochromatic Releases.

Grey with Liles Black Metal Logo: Moral Nihilist Releases.

Green Dots: Live Recordings

White Border: Collaborations and Remixes.
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