Have we all been keeping up with hate?

Wait, I mean, with HATE?

HATE is a new electronic music label that's begun to put out a series of 12" EPs of what it claims are 1.] mysterious, unknown, and long-lost productions 2.] from 1991 to 1994 3.] by members of Britain's hardcore and junglist scenes who want to remain anonymous.

Now, this might be oh-so-2008, but the latest EP only came out a couple of months back with loads to go and we're still left with three looming questions.

The first of which would be — is it a prank?

Much like with The Tuss, who is widely believed to be an Aphex Twin scam side-project, or Black Devil, who are widely believed to be a real, recently unearthed duo of 1970s electronic pioneers — although we still have doubts — the only information we can go on is what the label has told us, or by a rare report or two from only-on-internet, apparently neutral parties.

We do know that HATE is an offshoot of the Modern Love label, which itself is part of Manchester's influential Boomkat record-store.

And we know HATE has claimed this:

We can tell you fuck-all about HATE, except for the following. A carload full of dubplates and DAT tapes full of unreleased material was handed over to the label at Sowerby bridge in Yorkshire sometime in 2008. The material (several hundred original tracks) has been gradually catalogued, with a few tracks already planned for release this year. HATE is a Modern Love project and the label might also feature occasional new versions from different producers. All HATE transmissions will be limited to 300 stamped copies. You've been warned.

Okay.

But anonymous producers? A bridge hand-off?

The vintage songs found on these releases, at least, do come off as authentic and technologically old, with relatively basic arrangements and, as far as we can tell, equipment.

The second question would be — are these any good?

"Darkcore," from the first EP, is almost modern and minimalist in its approach, but the layers creep in, from an underwater breakbeat to a restless scatter-clash of acid garnish and, later, a warped, rippling riff that sounds like a Stone Roses-styled backwards-track.

"Pretty Boys Don't Survive Up North," from the second EP and originally recorded in 1993, is more intense, a snarl of raw and unpredictable old-school jungle patterns that come coated with bug-eyed menace and sunspot distortion, dropping in and out of volume, always on edge.

Meanwhile, 1991's "Cunning Love," from the latest EP, stabs in circles for seven minutes around ladders of ten-ton bass and crunched-up, ambient-pocketing style-shifts, which all somehow predates the classic gravity-gone effect of Omni Trio's "Renegade Snares" it resembles by a couple of years.

A third question, then.

Does it matter if any of this is real?

If these tracks are good, both the originals and the recent reworks, we're not sure we care, deep down, how the truth turns out.

It's a nice story, isn't it. And we don't have enough of them.

If it's a gimmick, if it's a myth, it adds flavor.

If it's a lie, the lie is better.

Bill Drummond & Jimmy Cauty would be proud.

[Samples]

Recall that insane commercial for Microsoft's Songsmith, a kind of reverse karaoke program that creates automated backing tracks to accompany your singing? (It is, if possible, worse than that sounds.)

Well, know someone has run David Lee Roth's vocals from Van Halen's "Runnin' With the Devil" through the program. The results are every bit as awesome as you'd expect.

And just for fun, here's that commercial again:

David Lee Roth would totally buy a glow in the dark towel.

(ht to Division)