Finnish bedroom psychedelia.
Formerly known as Anti/Uton.
Originally released on CDr with short story insert.

From Foxy Digitalis:
Uton and Anti team-up for some bumble-fingered thick Finnish psych under the AKA of Hunton Qunitet. Summoning up a friendly cabin fever, “Bert's Parts” is seen/heard through hearth smoke and the use of random materials/sounds to hand – ones not normally associated with the psych movement. The delightful turntable warp and plastic percussion are a good jumping off point for the darker landscapes of sound, these five parts thump and clack-together in runs of accidental complexities. Not your everyday psych-folk by any stretch of the imagination. 9/10 -- Scott McKeating (12 November, 2008)

From Idwal Fisher:
Who’d a thought that hiding beneath the mundane moniker that is the Hunton Quintet would lie a group of freaky accordion wheezing, fiddle scraping, leaf rustling, wood rubbing, drum bashing, guitar frotting Finns? Freaky doesn’t even begin to describe it. These guys are so far up in the Arctic circle that there’s nothing left to do except soak up all those Popol Vüh, meets Lewis Caroll, meets Fluxus vibes and hope that it don’t get dark before tea time. But this is only a tenth of the story. I’ve just spent an afternoon viewing all their videos and I think that maybe, just maybe I’ve unearthed some kind of woolly underground cult that lives on papier maché, carrots and tree bark. Oh, and there’s only two of them of course; Zileg Concrete and Agent Stepanoff. Imagine Ivor Cutler like wheezes meets random pluck and drum thump with added bits of theremin and maybe we’re um ... now halfway there. A more wayward Vibracathedral Orchestra jerked up on Magners and bifters the size of parsnips doing battle with the scuzz found in the gaps on all the best Sun Ra solos. Well, maybe not but you get the idea.
Bert’s Parts is a five part experimental free form fest fest thats a match for Reynols and as hippy dippy as Vashit Bunyan with her throat ripped out and a needle in her arm humping a smacked up Mike Oldfield on a pile of broken instruments. This is more of a world than a record where sounds are picked up and toyed with taken for a walk and then abandoned in favour of others. There’s theremins, scratchy strings, spazzed out electric guitar, toy keyboards, bass ruminations, jack socket abuse ... some tracks build up a head of steam and just about enter drone land, others just wander along, a pluck here, a tambourine there, a finger cymbal there, all dissolving into the Finnish wastes.
Having been left cold by what may have been loosely known as the Finnish Freaky Folk Scene of five years or more ago, this comes as the breath of Arctic fresh air thats so desperately needed at the start of 2009. There’s even a short story about Bert and his parts that comes as an insert. Kerrrazy.