COLONEL TROUTMAN – THE DINOSAUR BIT

Colonel Troutman is an enigma; whether that is intentional due to his background or perhaps a little put off by the idea of people actively engaging him. To be fair, a lot of information we’ve tried to gather from Colonel Troutman has been redacted through official channels.

So we’re at a loss to give you that full, almost voyeuristic at times glimpse into the ins and outs of his debut project, Spotlight On The Mood, out April 23rd 2021 on cassette and digitally.

We’ll try to give you something you can use, however, alongside the release of his debut single, “The Dinosaur Bit.”

Drawing from “dancing music” (drum and bass) and noise rock, “The Dinosaur Bit” manages to convey the overall theme from Colonel Troutman’s debut offering – a no-wave electronic racket that is equal noise-rock as it is industrialized harsh noise.

We’re going to throw in a reference to the digital hardcore movement also, but perhaps something more on the filthy, sludgier side of digital hardcore.

But yeah; noise is the operative term throughout this work and hopefully in any coverage it picks up…

Spotlight On The Mood isn’t without its gimmicks either; asides from the fact the whole EP was recorded in one take, direct to an eight-track with a host of old(ish), antiquated(ish) equipment, some of the lyrics that are intermittent throughout might be familiar to movie buffs.

That’s because they’re paraphrased quotes from Rambo: First Blood. “I had two choices”, Colonel Troutman explained in a rare moment of correspondence, “Rambo: First Blood or Hot Shots! Part Deux.”

Spotlight On The Mood is out April 23rd 2021 on cassette tape and all digital platforms.

The Making of a One-Take Racket

To fully appreciate the abrasive charm of “The Dinosaur Bit,” one must first understand the conditions under which it was forged. Colonel Troutman’s entire debut EP, Spotlight On The Mood, was recorded live, direct to an eight-track machine, in a single continuous take. There were no overdubs, no punch-ins, no digital fixes. What you hear is a document of a moment — a raw, unvarnished snapshot of a man wrestling with his machines in real time. This approach is not merely a nod to lo-fi aesthetics; it is a philosophical stance. In an era where every note can be quantised and every vocal tuned to perfection, Colonel Troutman deliberately rejects the safety net. The result is a recording that breathes, stumbles, and occasionally threatens to fall apart altogether — and that tension is precisely the point.

The equipment used for the session was, by the artist’s own admission, “old(ish), antiquated(ish).” While he has been characteristically tight-lipped about the specifics, the sonic fingerprints are unmistakable: the saturated hiss of a well-worn cassette multitracker, the brittle crunch of an overdriven mixer channel, and the unpredictable behaviour of analogue effects units pushed far beyond their intended parameters. This is not the polished, software-driven noise of the modern digital hardcore scene; it is something more tactile, more dangerous. The eight-track format imposes its own limitations — a finite number of channels, a fixed tape speed, a constant battle against noise floor — and Colonel Troutman uses these constraints as creative tools. Each element — the drum machine patterns, the distorted synth stabs, the buried vocal fragments — fights for space in a dense, claustrophobic mix.

Listeners familiar with the cassette revival will recognise a certain warmth in the saturation, but make no mistake: this is not a nostalgic exercise. The Colonel’s use of analogue media is not about recreating the past; it is about embracing the imperfections of the present. The tape hiss is not a flaw to be removed but an instrument in its own right, a constant reminder that this music was made by a human being, in a room, with limited resources and unlimited conviction. It is this commitment to process that sets Spotlight On The Mood apart from the countless bedroom noise projects that clutter the digital landscape.

Deconstructing “The Dinosaur Bit”

As the lead single from the EP, “The Dinosaur Bit” serves as a mission statement for Colonel Troutman’s sonic agenda. The track opens with a lurching, almost mechanical rhythm — a drum machine pattern that seems to stagger rather than groove, its kick drum distorted to the point of abstraction. This is “dancing music” in the most perverse sense: the tempo is there, the four-on-the-floor pulse is implied, but the execution is so mangled that any attempt to actually dance would likely result in injury. It is drum and bass as imagined by a malfunctioning industrial robot, or perhaps noise rock as filtered through a broken PA system in a damp basement.

Layered over this rhythmic foundation is a wall of guitar feedback and synthesised squall, a no-wave racket that owes as much to early Swans as it does to Atari Teenage Riot. The Colonel’s use of noise is not random, however; there is a deliberate structure beneath the chaos. Riffs emerge and dissolve, motifs repeat and mutate, and the whole thing builds towards a climax that is less a resolution than a collapse. The track’s title, “The Dinosaur Bit,” suggests a self-aware commentary on the artist’s own anachronistic methods — a dinosaur in the digital age, perhaps, or a nod to the prehistoric weight of the music itself.

Vocally, Colonel Troutman is sparing. His voice appears only intermittently, buried deep in the mix and drenched in effects, delivering lines that are more texture than language. For those who listen closely, however, the words are recognisable — or at least half-recognisable. They are paraphrased quotes from Rambo: First Blood, the 1982 action film that gave the world one of cinema’s most iconic monologues. “I had two choices,” the Colonel explained, “Rambo: First Blood or Hot Shots! Part Deux.” The choice is telling. Where Hot Shots! Part Deux would have invited parody and pastiche, First Blood offers something darker: a story of trauma, alienation, and the failure of institutions. These themes resonate throughout the EP, lending a grim coherence to the noise.

The Digital Hardcore Connection

While Colonel Troutman’s sound is often described as noise rock or industrial, the spectre of digital hardcore looms large over “The Dinosaur Bit.” The genre, which emerged in the mid-1990s as a fusion of hardcore punk, breakbeat, and electronic noise, is characterised by its aggressive political stance and its rejection of mainstream production values. Bands like Atari Teenage Riot, EC8OR, and Bomb20 used cheap samplers and distorted drum machines to create a sound that was both revolutionary and confrontational. Colonel Troutman’s music shares that confrontational spirit, but with a crucial difference: where digital hardcore was often fast, frantic, and explicitly political, the Colonel’s approach is slower, sludgier, and more introspective.

This is not to say that the politics are absent. The use of Rambo: First Blood as a lyrical source is itself a political act, invoking a film that critiques the treatment of Vietnam veterans and the militarisation of American society. But where Atari Teenage Riot would scream slogans over a 200 BPM breakbeat, Colonel Troutman buries his message in layers of distortion, forcing the listener to dig for meaning. It is a more oblique form of protest, but no less potent. The digital hardcore movement also pioneered a DIY ethos that the Colonel clearly shares: record quickly, release cheaply, and let the music speak for itself. Spotlight On The Mood was recorded in one take, direct to tape, with no label interference — a process that would have been unthinkable in the major-label world of the 1990s.

Yet there is a sludgier, filthier quality to Colonel Troutman’s work that sets it apart from the digital hardcore canon. Where Atari Teenage Riot’s sound was razor-sharp and digitally clean (despite its aggression), the Colonel’s music is caked in analogue grime. The bass frequencies are muddy, the high end is brittle, and the overall effect is one of decay. It is as if the digital hardcore aesthetic has been dragged through a swamp and left to fester. This is not a criticism; it is precisely this filth that gives the music its power. In a world of pristine digital production, Colonel Troutman’s racket is a welcome reminder that noise should be felt, not just heard.

Context and Continuity: The MUZAI Records Landscape

Colonel Troutman’s debut arrives at a pivotal moment for MUZAI Records. The label, which has spent a decade championing experimental and underground music from Aotearoa and beyond, has recently been reflecting on its own history and future. The SLOW DECLINE: MUZAI at 10. retrospective highlighted the label’s evolution from a bedroom operation to a respected outlet for challenging sounds, while also acknowledging the challenges of remaining relevant in an increasingly crowded digital landscape. “The Dinosaur Bit” feels like a direct response to that anxiety: a defiantly analogue, defiantly difficult piece of music that refuses to compromise.

In this context, Colonel Troutman’s work can be seen as part of a broader resurgence of noise and experimental music within the label’s roster. Recent releases such as WHO’D’VE THUNK?! – GENERATION EXTINCT and PREVIEW – FADOHT – AXONAL FIRING SQUID have similarly pushed the boundaries of genre, blending elements of noise, industrial, and avant-garde composition. What sets Colonel Troutman apart, however, is his singular focus on the intersection of noise rock and dance music — a territory that remains relatively unexplored within the label’s catalogue. His debut EP, COLONEL TROUTMAN – SPOTLIGHT ON THE MOOD, promises to be a landmark release, not just for the artist but for the label as a whole.

For those new to Colonel Troutman’s world, “The Dinosaur Bit” is the perfect entry point. It is abrasive, uncompromising, and utterly singular — a track that demands attention even as it pushes the listener away. And for those already familiar with the label’s output, it is a thrilling confirmation that MUZAI Records remains committed to releasing music that matters. As the Colonel himself might say, there were two choices: play it safe or embrace the noise. He chose the latter, and we are all the better for it.

What to Expect from the Full EP

While “The Dinosaur Bit” offers a tantalising glimpse into Colonel Troutman’s sonic universe, it is only one piece of a larger puzzle. Spotlight On The Mood is described as a “no-wave electronic racket,” and those words are carefully chosen. The EP is not a collection of singles; it is a continuous piece of music, recorded in a single take and designed to be experienced as a whole. The tracks bleed into one another, with no clear breaks between them, creating a sense of relentless forward motion. This is music that demands patience and attention, rewarding those who are willing to sit with it and let the noise wash over them.

Lyrically, the EP continues the Rambo: First Blood thread, with paraphrased quotes scattered throughout the mix. These fragments are not always intelligible, but their presence adds a layer of meaning for those who recognise the source material. The film’s themes of isolation, trauma, and the failure of authority are echoed in the music’s abrasive textures and claustrophobic density. It is a fitting soundtrack for a world that often feels like it is falling apart at the seams.

Physically, the EP will be released on cassette tape, a format that has become something of a signature for MUZAI Records. The cassette revival is not merely a nostalgic trend; for artists like Colonel Troutman, it is a practical choice. Cassettes are cheap to produce, easy to distribute, and perfectly suited to the lo-fi aesthetic of the music. They also offer a tactile experience that digital formats cannot replicate — the hiss of the tape, the clunk of the play button, the slow degradation of the magnetic particles over time. For a project so deeply rooted in analogue processes, cassette is the only logical format.

Digitally, the EP will be available on all major platforms, ensuring that even those without a tape deck can experience the Colonel’s racket. But there is something fitting about the idea of this music existing primarily on a format that is itself a dinosaur — a relic of a bygone era, still capable of roaring with surprising power. Spotlight On The Mood is out April 23rd 2021, and it is not to be missed.