By Bro. Jo Stern, on October 20th, 2009
 Much of the fine Foilfacery purveyed ‘pon this site was twatted out, smashed through timeholes and crafted into gourmet ear pie at The Bunker recording studio in Manchester by special invitation over recent days.
Rather spiffingly, The Bunker is now doing some leg-janglingly well-priced recording studio package deals for everyone to buzz off (as long as you’re not a moronic spazoid of course). Check out these most appealing Bunker Deals at www.bunkersounds.co.uk.
As if that’s not cock-poppingly fantastic enough, you can also get recording studio gift vouchers to make you the bestest buddy/relative in the land – or maybe just to mega impress a chick who thinks she’s Dido or summit.
By Bro. Jo Stern, on October 17th, 2009
 80′s revivals, golf rock, twins in matching outfits, ironic jerry curls, happy glue-sniff-bleep-core phone jingles, gonzo street dance yoghurt wig-wam happenings, Sinitta…. we really do need to wipe the shit off the streets sometimes don’t we? It’s like second hand fish sex monitored by robots and Deirdre Rachid (nee Barlow). The AIDS peppered rot of cultural confetti clogging drains and blocking rational thought.
With all that in mind…. GET SOME FOILFACE… IT’S STILL HERE… AND THERE’LL BE MORE ONE DAY SOON… AND IT WON’T WHIFF OF SONIC DOG SHIT… PROMISE…
By Bro. Jo Stern, on October 10th, 2009
 Too soon some forget we are all just moss on a huge spinning rock…
Tell that to the Mariah Carey’s, Ronaldo’s, Simon Cowell’s and Ronald McDonald’s of this world and they will look at you like you’ve just asked them to griddle your cock cheese. With eyes darker than creosote and souls as empty as a female marathon runner’s bra they parade their populist sickness with glee. They are scum and we feed them like adorable kittens.
WHY? It’s simple. Some people are confused by moss metaphors.
By Bro. Jo Stern, on October 6th, 2009
By Bro. Jo Stern, on September 30th, 2009
 We’ve moved our site and all our recent music to a new server with more servtastic powers, so hopefully the Foilface site will run a little smoother now. Do let us know if it’s giving you any grief though.
By Bro. Jo Stern, on August 25th, 2009
By Bro. Jo Stern, on July 14th, 2009
 Ever noticed that the ‘Best of British’ is often just a bag of wank? Sausages filled with eyelids and snouts, sports stars who regularly bottle it, pan-faced birds with their tits out in mags like Nuts and skinny, floss-brained, smacky-looking male models in union jack boxer shorts. The phrase immediately fills me with trepidation, cynicism and doubt.
Last weekend’s Sunday Mirror decided to spunk out this age old slogan (in their dire ‘Celeb’ mag) in order to shift a few extra copies (probably to retarded BNP voters in Yorkshire) and glory in the crop of new female singers we have warbling around our sacred shores.
To be fair the list was mildly impressive to a point – Florence Welch, VV Brown and at a push Little Boots too (although the hype has done her no favours – wasn’t she supposed to be quirky and fresh as opposed to derivitive and bland?). But Pixie Lott? Yeah, there are probably plenty of tabloid readers who would like to make the glossy magazine pages stick together given half a chance – but the marketing is so transparent I’m at a loss. Hot pants. Loads of them. That’s it. And it’s working. Shame on you Britain! I would say, ‘Not in my name’ – but that’d probably be taking things a bit too far.
Two names relegated to just a small end blurb in the feature were the beautifully melancholic Laura Marling (you should have all heard of her by now) and the lesser known Marina & The Diamonds (although as some of you may know, there are no Diamonds, just Marina). I’ve not heard a lot but what I have heard sounds both commercial and quite good (rare bedfellows) – a little bit Joni Mitchell here and a little bit Kate Bush there (although that’s a bit crass and obvious – sorry). Keep an ear out for her – she’s miles better than La Roux and doesn’t seem keen on pretending the mid-80′s were ace either (they weren’t, they were shit).
None of them are as good as the ladies Foilface got to sing on ‘Pussyfoot’ and ‘Truckers’ though. Those girls have got some serious pipes on ‘em. Check out the tunes if you don’t believe me.
Conclusion – fuck the all sloganeering and hype and dig a little deeper…
By Bro. Jo Stern, on July 14th, 2009
 “It costs me absolutely nothing to create the music. Zero dollars. I record all the guitars and bass straight into my laptop and program the drums using this one sequencing program, then I mix and master everything myself. The only thing that costs money are guitar strings, but I have a full-time job so it’s no big deal.”
– Ben Sharp
Isn’t this the way it should be? Ben Sharp is the person responsible for the one-man post-metal brainrash ‘Cloudkicker’ – I keep harping on about him but what’s not to like? He writes and records the most amazing instrumental metal on the planet, on his own, on his laptop then gives it away on the internet for free. Humble as fuck.
You can grab his EP and album here.
There is of course some more music 2 download for free over at the beasty Foilface website, why don’t you treat yourself to a bit of both and shuffle your mp3pod to blast your headplate in with a heady mix of slackercore and metalgaze you complete fucking mentalist?
By Bro. Jo Stern, on July 9th, 2009
 Sorry about the title, but some gags are so obvious that it’s just plain wrong not to run with them (just ask Tim Vine, he’ll back me up on this one).
Having an involuntary love of all things Foilface – and indeed foil-faced – myself and fellow ‘facer, Duncan Ratters, had to purchase and devour this foil-clad cow the minute we laid eyes on it. Only thing is, we didn’t get any further than this from sheer guilt – look how sad a sight he is with no more legs 
We’re now thinking of starting a foundation for abused foil-faced cows. The only trouble is that our recent music 2 download is free, so we need some help – please send us loads of massive donations so we can buy all the foil-faced chocolate cows in the country and ‘look after’ them.
By Bro. Jo Stern, on July 7th, 2009
 I was doing some random camping in a non-specific field during the disturbingly fine UK weather last week, when my Foilface free ringtone blasted out from my pocket, violently raping the tranquility of the whole picture.
I was distracted from my shame by the surprise of seeing this little Alpaca fella react by running a good distance across an adjoining field towards me with clear intent. At first, I thought he may have been offended and intend to take revenge on my nether regions, but no – he ran all the way over just to stop and listen to Foilface. There can be no arguement; Alpacas dig quality recent music.
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Much of the fine Foilfacery purveyed ‘pon this site was twatted out, smashed through timeholes and crafted into gourmet ear pie at The Bunker recording studio in Manchester by special invitation over recent days.
