One Hand Clapping RecordsBubblegum Bullets
Three girls who met mid-fight at an arcade and decided they'd enjoyed it a little too much. They exist on the MADS and the main roster at once — August logged the dimensional double-booking and moved on. The sound is bubblegum over drill: birthday-party hooks on a kick that lands like a gut-punch.
Bubblegum × UK drill — hollow 808s and sliding minor melodies, 140–150 BPM, under bright major-key hooks and birthday-party vocals. The contrast isn't a joke; it's something sweet that will hurt you.
For the Bubblegummies
Sugar on the outside, gut-punch underneath.
The Correct People
Polly fronts on guitar — bitchiness with a wink and a riff that destroys you; Monk runs the sampler by her own law; Marie keeps the philosophy and sings it sweet.
Polly Greensleeves
the front; bitchiness with a wink, a riff that destroys you; likes the music, the audience is incidental
Nia “Monk” Belove
the sampler; any sound is legitimate if approached with complete seriousness
Marie Blakemore
the philosophy; positive nihilism made singable
They Were Not Invited
Three girls, same school, no shared friends, no reason to be in the same orbit — each at the arcade alone, for her own reasons. Then a bully started in on a smaller kid by the change machine, and all three moved at once, without thinking, without eye contact. The bully did not have a good afternoon. In the wreckage a gumball machine lay knocked over, and the name came from a line nobody can attribute: it was awesome how we hit him with those bubblegum balls.
They noticed, in the debrief, that they had each enjoyed it a little too much — and filed that not as a problem but as a defining characteristic. They were, for the first time, in the presence of the correct people. Moonrise did not recruit them. One morning the files simply contained their bible, authored by no one, timestamped three years in the future. They arrived. That is the complete story.
The Extras
The small stubborn objects and the lyric books — some free, some sold out, some lost. Scarcity is part of the record.
The Bubblegum Bullet
A single gumball, kept in a brass casing. It is both the sweetest and the most dangerous thing the band owns, which is the entire thesis rendered as an object you could put in your mouth.
The Positive Nihilism Pamphlet
Marie's philosophy, printed for the Bubblegummies — nothing matters, so hit the note like it does. Riso pink-on-black, handed out at the arcade. The run is gone.
Pull a Thread
Every band on the label is one room of the same house. A few doors out of this one:
Not loaded onto the streams yet. Bite down here first.