Botch: 061502 Vinyl 2xLP


You may purchase up to one copy of each color. Anyone caught ordering more than one copy of any color will have their order canceled immediately.

- First Ever Vinyl Pressing
- Remastered Audio
- The Band’s Final Live Performance, Captured
- Immediate 320kbps MP3 digital download of the entire album in .zip file format.


1. St. Mathew Returns To The Womb
2. C. Thomas Howell As The "Soul Man"
3. John Woo
4. Japam
5. Oma
6. Frequency Ass Bandit
7. Thank God For The Worker Bees
8. Framce
9. Third Part In A Tragedy
10. Rock Lobster
11. Transitions From Persona To Object
12. To Our Friends In The Great White North
13. Hutton's Great Heat Engine
14. Man The Ramparts

“This is your last chance.”

That statement near the tail end of the final Botch show
says it all. Starting out as wannabe hardcore kids from
Tacoma, Washington, over the course of eight years they
morphed into one of the most iconic and influential bands of
their generation.

After breaking up, the members wound up in so many
renowned projects (Russian Circles, Minus the Bear, These
Arms are Snakes, Narrows) that some may argue Botch's
mathrock/ noisecore was just a stepping stone, part of their
evolution. But no one in attendance can deny feeling a void
open when the stage lights went up at Seattle's Showbox on
June 15th, 2002.

Focusing primarily on material from their two critically
admired full-lengths, the quartet played to a sold out
audience, fans flying in from around the world to hear the
goodbye. And in just a little over an hour, Botch showed
everyone what they'd been building up to.

The band had no interest in going out with some pristine,
polished relic. This isn't a studio-quality recording with
applause thrown in. It's a barely contained maelstrom, the
band wrecking their instruments and assailing the audience.
It captures, as best as it can, what it felt like to be
there: the deranged, macerating guitar work of Dave Knudson
skittering over Brian Cook's obscene bass tone; Tim Latona's
algebraic rhythms hammering behind the screams of Dave
Verellen; the crowd, as one body, mournfully singing “It's
so quiet here” before the mayhem begins again.

It seems as if every band is doing a reunion nowadays,
and many are clamoring for Botch to finally join the crowd.
But whether or not that happens, this one night was
successfully captured, where four friends walked on stage
together and played as though it would never happen again.