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Marvin 03:54
Resurrector 03:29
Pugilist 04:07
Style Wars 03:49



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We’re happy to finally welcome a long-time friend and masterful producer, Vellum, to the Slug crew with a monumentally heavy EP! Vellum has made waves in the Bass House scene and beyond, with features on labels such as Inspected, Gold Digger and Maraki Records. Strap yourselves in for savagely sick release of top-tier production and mind bending sounds, in perfect time for Halloween. 🎃


_ __ ___

↓↓↓ STORY TIME ↓↓↓

Standing in a dark corner of the room, Mac felt a little out of his element. He wasn't really focused on 'fun' most of the time, but somehow he'd ended up at a party. He'd been caught off guard when an old friend had invited him out that night and, if he was really being honest, he didn't have a good reason to not be there anyway.

He was in the back room of a bar, windowless and caked in decades of smoke and sweat. Drops of liquid were collecting and dripping from the few bits of exposed piping visible through missing ceiling tiles. He was careful not to touch the walls; whatever it was coated in seemed faintly corrosive, as if the building itself was trying make the place unwelcoming to slug kind, perhaps in an effort to regain some peace and quiet.

None of this seemed to have slowed down the party, which was in full swing. A large stack of speakers had been assembled in one corner and was pressurising the air in the room to the point of breathlessness. The slugs on the dance floor were a heaving mass of raw biology, tangled together completely. He spotted some movement on the speaker stack, which didn't seem unusual at first, but there was a slug climbing up the side of it. It was possible the crew running the party just needed to fix a loose cable or tighten a ratchet or two, but the MC looked a little too concerned for that to be the case. Before anyone could do anything, the slug had ripped out a ceiling tile and disappeared through the gap, with only its tail visible to those below.

More and more slugs started to notice the commotion and turned to watch. The MC shouted at the partially visible slug, "Marvin, where you going? You gonna unplug the sound! You gonna unplug the sound!!”

Unperturbed, Marvin disappeared into the roof and left everyone guessing for a few seconds. The ceiling suddenly fell through, inaudible over the music, but very visible to the room, revealing Marvin hanging on to the concrete structure above by a viscous string. He plummeted into the middle of the crowd like bait on the end of a mucus fishing line. The music stopped and the crowd scattered impressively quickly, leaving Marvin suspended in a cloud of dust, trying to detach himself with little success.

The MC was screaming that the party was over, and it was Marvin's fault; his libido had ruined everyone's night out, and it was important that everyone knew exactly who was to blame. The crowd looked equal parts vexed and hysterical. Marvin eventually managed to free himself and slithered over to the microphone, trying to keep the party going and offered to pay for the damages. An argument ensued. Mac rolled his eyes and took this moment as his cue to leave. He shuffled round to the side of the crowd and headed out into the smog drenched evening without so much as a glance back.



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