The Tsarlag saga is a long and blinding road, slime-stalking through the tape spools and haunted hallways of countless shuttered scum-punk houses and retired low-rent record labels. And yet, like The Crystal Ball which he memorialized in song and video, Carlos Gonzalez’s uniquely decaying gutter-surf pop continues to ride, hitching into the Great American Nothingness, too true to live, too weird to die.

So after years of dedicated fanship it is with real honor we present his latest opus, Midnight At Mary’s House. From ragged vagabond garbage pail anthems (“My Leg Is Numb,” “Cruising On Cardboard”) to alienated junkyard FX freakshows (“Let’s Drive,” “Phone Booth”) to sci-fi new-wave (“The Gang’s All Here”), Mary’s House may well be Gonzalez’s ultimate bleach banquet time capsule to date. Detuned tube-amp guitar chop, hobo drum machines, growling noises, toy keyboards, and cassette mold all weave in and out of the scenery.

Black vinyl LPs with color-photocopy lipstick-portrait inserts, in jackets designed by Gonzalez.

$12