Buscar:between the buried and me

‘Colors II’ is the tenth studio album from American progressive metal band Between The Buried and Me (BTBAM).
UK is the band’s 2nd top International market.
The band’s 2018 record ‘Automata I’ hit the Billboard charts at #1 Independent, #4 Hard Music, #6 Rock Albums and #8 Top Albums.

2026 Repress

Sicily's SLV is able to merge technical mastery with emotional resonance. His potent techno sounds have come via the likes of SHWD's Mutual Rytm and Slam's Soma, and unite timeless yet forward-thinking sonics.
On 'Fleeting Dreams', he continues to refine his signature sound while channelling introspection and intensity into a collection of meticulously crafted cuts that balance precision and feeling, energy and space. Each track reveals a different side of his sonic identity: hypnotic rhythms intertwine with evolving soundscapes, while layers of distortion and melody merge into a dreamlike tension between the mechanical and the organic.

'Fading Moments' kicks off with a sleek blend of driving, supple kicks and warm synth ripples, while a euphoric vocal cry is buried deep to amp up the emotion. 'Scenario' then brings icy hi-hats and sinewy synths bring a futuristic feel to the unrelenting, high-pressure drums down low. 'Daruma' has a darker energy with menacing textures and paranoid FX bringing the rolling drums to life, while 'Bass Grit' has a hunched up rhythm, with groaning pads and fizzing static electricity that charge up the party. To close, 'Shimmer' sinks down into a muscular and deep rhythm that's marbled with restless synths and ever-rising tension.

In addition, digital bonus cuts 'Trust' and '1990' offer different perspectives with slamming drums, seductive vocals and feisty synth loops making for two more bold, immersive techno weapons.

Already in its title, Plume Girl’s debut thoroughly lets things go and takes them in – all at once. “In the End We Begin” is the first solo full-length from Sowmya Somanath, a Hindustani classical singer/composer and half of alt-pop duo Felt Out. Plume Girl’s music takes inspiration from the semi-regular musical form of the rāga (translated as ‘tinting’), invoking mood and atmosphere, each rāga thought to have its own distinct nature and personality, brought to life through improvisation. String swells and Somanath’s searching vocalisations envelop every track’s own blissful chamber. Exploring imagined binaries along the way — eastern vs. western, traditional vs. experimental, acoustic vs. electronic, Sowmya sees music as a curious dialogue between divine Self and an invisible reality. Beneath the illusion of a chromatic world, there remains a blissful oneness.

Plume Girl’s songs sit between ambient Hindustani music and emotionally-encumbered pop. In front of backdrops comprising sundrenched drones or glitches, sketched out beats, and criss-crossing glissandi or flutes, Somanath both murmurs intimately and spirals upwards into soaring choruses. The lyrics ponder innermost thoughts, never more literally than on the blissful emo folk closing track: ‘In my heart I know / what’s in my heart / I know what’s in my…’

“When I began writing this music, I was fresh off of an experience that completely twisted my reality,” explains Somanath. It was the end of a years-long relationship, and the blossoming of a long-buried love hidden in plain sight: “a best friend of a decade, my musical partner, someone who had always seen me completely…At once, I felt grief and loss. At once, excitement and love.”

These days – on the new, ninth Fink album – Greenall is operating within a lineage of authentic, quietly revolutionary artists from England’s verdant southwestern toe. Artists like Michael Chapman. In 1970, the elusive acoustic guitar wizard released an album called Fully Qualified Survivor. The cult-classic served as a lodestar for Greenall – along with bandmates Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker – as he began jigsawing together The City Is Coming to Erase it All, the follow-up to 2024’s Beauty In Your Wake. He even considered covering a song from it, but in the process, inadvertently stumbled into what became the album’s opener. ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ circles a universal teenage ache: waiting for life to start. “No point dying of patience” goes the first lyric as crunching footsteps cue a resonant, open-tuned acoustic swaying into view. By 18, Greenall was fed up with waiting, so he left suburban Bristol and saw the world, sending postcards from the edge, waiting tables, squirreling away tips for the next flight. Thornton had similar experiences when the guitarist/drummer busked across Eur

This is nowstalgia more than nostalgia, though; there’s a parallel between these 18-year-olds and Fink’s autumn-aged family men. “You’re expected to be boring and settling down at this age,” Thornton says. “But we’ve still got this tremendous wanderlust. We want to go and discover, and also achieve things. It’s a nice life – home and family – but fuck, I can’t wait to get back out there.” City is a product of this hunger for discovery, and idolatry of the album as a form – like we had in 1974. City’s cover mirrors its interior, the first song is the greeting, the instrumental closer the conclusion. It’s a story. It’s a record for people who, like its creators, are curious. People who happily face a little cold for music, who light a crackling fire back home, who sit with these songs until they’re ready to chase after their own blue sky

These days – on the new, ninth Fink album – Greenall is operating within a lineage of authentic, quietly revolutionary artists from England’s verdant southwestern toe. Artists like Michael Chapman. In 1970, the elusive acoustic guitar wizard released an album called Fully Qualified Survivor. The cult-classic served as a lodestar for Greenall – along with bandmates Tim Thornton and Guy Whittaker – as he began jigsawing together The City Is Coming to Erase it All, the follow-up to 2024’s Beauty In Your Wake. He even considered covering a song from it, but in the process, inadvertently stumbled into what became the album’s opener. ‘Wishing For Blue Sky’ circles a universal teenage ache: waiting for life to start. “No point dying of patience” goes the first lyric as crunching footsteps cue a resonant, open-tuned acoustic swaying into view. By 18, Greenall was fed up with waiting, so he left suburban Bristol and saw the world, sending postcards from the edge, waiting tables, squirreling away tips for the next flight. Thornton had similar experiences when the guitarist/drummer busked across Eur

This is nowstalgia more than nostalgia, though; there’s a parallel between these 18-year-olds and Fink’s autumn-aged family men. “You’re expected to be boring and settling down at this age,” Thornton says. “But we’ve still got this tremendous wanderlust. We want to go and discover, and also achieve things. It’s a nice life – home and family – but fuck, I can’t wait to get back out there.” City is a product of this hunger for discovery, and idolatry of the album as a form – like we had in 1974. City’s cover mirrors its interior, the first song is the greeting, the instrumental closer the conclusion. It’s a story. It’s a record for people who, like its creators, are curious. People who happily face a little cold for music, who light a crackling fire back home, who sit with these songs until they’re ready to chase after their own blue sky

Tastemaker and cult figure among some, noise vendor among others… lurking somewhere in the shadows between London and Paris, the man known as Sheet Noise emerges out of the blue with his debut LP, Shostakovich's 5th Played Backwards in a Concrete Silo.

A direct shock to the system: equally beautiful and evil, abrasive yet uncomfortably calming. The feeling that something is about to happen at any minute—impending love or hatred blaring from the speakers at breakneck speeds. Heavy-duty, reactor-melted junglism; twisted samples buried under layers of dust and static; familiar voices in unfamiliar places.

This eight-track album is as intense as it can get. Don’t call it ambient. Don’t call it jungle. Don’t call it noise. Just strap yourself into the electric chair and get ready for the end.

A classic in the making.

Following a string of acclaimed collaborations, including Agua Dulce with percussionist Laura Robles and Mapambazuko alongside Congolese guitarist Titi Bakorta, Peruvian artist Alejandra Cárdenas (aka Ale Hop) returns with her most personal work to date yet, A Body Like a Home. Marking her first album under her birth name, the project is a sonic memoir exploring the tangled realms of trauma, recovery, and love through autobiographical soundscapes.
A Body Like a Home is the artist at her most exposed. Comprising 13 songs and 15 poems, the album sees her set aside collaborative fusions for solo catharsis, channeling years of turbulence - intergenerational scars left by colonialism, racism, domestic violence, and alcoholism - into a work that oscillates between brutality and tenderness. Cárdenas states: “I grew up under Alberto Fujimori’s dictatorship, when a veil of hopelessness seemed to settle over everything. This is the backdrop of the album. The songs and poems trace the inevitable loop between private wounds - addiction, domestic violence, fractured intimacy - and Peru’s national scars, carved by colonialism. It’s not a straight story or a resolution. Writing and composing became a ritual of digging for meaning, into what’s buried, disguised, or renamed, until the body itself became a living archive.
” At the heart of the album is Cárdenas’s own voice - part witness, part confessor - reciting over layers of electric guitars, electronic textures, the haunting violin of Mexican musician Gibrana Cervantes, and a collage of field recordings, from rainfall, muffled whispers, broken glass, to archival protest footage from Peru. The result is a work that resonates like a diary written in sound.
The first single, "Motherland", is a searing testimony where Cárdenas voice cracks under the weight of history and personal loss. Amid a storm of distorted guitars, she traces the cyclical legacies of colonialism, from state massacres branding Indigenous bodies as “terrorists” to the spiral of addiction as an unavoidable future. The lyrics draw parallels between political and domestic violence: a mother’s drunken knife pressed to her chest, and a motherland where racism is currency. She utters: “sacrifice demands a body.” Yet, amid the wreckage, a willful grip on love and faith persists. Ultimately, A Body Like a Home is a document of transformation. Tracks like "Evangelina" and the title piece "A Body Like a Home" hold space for resilience, spirituality, and love, while "Early Road" and "Going South" thread subtle nods to Peruvian folklore, opening up bright vignettes into a sense of belonging.
The poetry chapbook accompanying A Body Like a Home (five of its pieces are also recited on the album) extends the work, building a parallel architecture. Oscillating between the documentary and the mythic, the intimate and the forensic, the profane and the oniric, these poems practice a theology of the ordinary, where everyday objects - cameras, knives, moth-eaten cotton - are charged withspiritual and historical weight. Here, the body is land, house, battlefield, collective pain, geological territory; and trauma is, in contrast, archival, cellular, ritualistic, inherited. Read alongside the music, the stories refract across two mediums: songs give them breath and poems give them bone.

Sicily's SLV is able to merge technical mastery with emotional resonance. His potent techno sounds have come via the likes of SHWD's Mutual Rytm and Slam's Soma, and unite timeless yet forward-thinking sonics.
On 'Fleeting Dreams', he continues to refine his signature sound while channelling introspection and intensity into a collection of meticulously crafted cuts that balance precision and feeling, energy and space. Each track reveals a different side of his sonic identity: hypnotic rhythms intertwine with evolving soundscapes, while layers of distortion and melody merge into a dreamlike tension between the mechanical and the organic.

'Fading Moments' kicks off with a sleek blend of driving, supple kicks and warm synth ripples, while a euphoric vocal cry is buried deep to amp up the emotion. 'Scenario' then brings icy hi-hats and sinewy synths bring a futuristic feel to the unrelenting, high-pressure drums down low. 'Daruma' has a darker energy with menacing textures and paranoid FX bringing the rolling drums to life, while 'Bass Grit' has a hunched up rhythm, with groaning pads and fizzing static electricity that charge up the party. To close, 'Shimmer' sinks down into a muscular and deep rhythm that's marbled with restless synths and ever-rising tension.

In addition, digital bonus cuts 'Trust' and '1990' offer different perspectives with slamming drums, seductive vocals and feisty synth loops making for two more bold, immersive techno weapons.

Celebrated DJ, producer, and sonic explorer Auntie Flo (aka Brian d’Souza) — described by The Guardian as “one of global club culture’s most vital voices” — returns this autumn with ‘Birds of Paradise’: a rhythmically rich, emotionally resonant, and ecologically grounded new album, out 23 October via his A State of Flo imprint. The album will be launched with a special live show at London’s Jazz Caféon the same day.

‘Birds of Paradise’ draws on d’Souza’s global club experience while deepening his connection with the natural world. Built around classic Roland drum machines and iconic vintage synths, the record is a joyful, body-driven celebration of rhythm and movement, but one grounded in ecology and place. The album’s spiritual centre lies in Saligao, Goa, near d’Souza’s maternal homeland where his Auntie Florie (where the name is derived from) is buried. Where he found his ‘paradise’ nearby, staying in a converted fisherman’s hut and recorded dawn choruses from a riverside studio overlooking mangrove-lined waters. Environmental textures from Japan also make their way into the music, creating a sonic map rooted in lived experience.

“Birds of Paradise is about finding beauty and rhythm in a chaotic world. It’s about listening, to nature, to our bodies, to what’s real. It’s a reminder that dance music can be both joyful and grounded.” The album blends Afro-Latin polyrhythms with Western 4/4 patterns, fusing instinctive, dancefloor energy with field recordings that anchor the music in the earth. Described by d’Souza as “tropical with a few deeper edges, a balance of light and dark.”

The new record follows the acclaimed ‘In My Dreams, I’m A Bird and I’m Free’, which earned 4 stars and Global Album of the Month from The Guardian, featured in Disco Pogo’s Albums of the Year, and received support from Luke Una, Resident Advisor, Juno, Bandcamp, Mixmag, DJ Mag, Electronic Sound, The Skinny, Beatport, Ban Ban Ton Ton, and more. The album’s launch show at Omeara London sold out. Other recent projects include the ‘Outernational Dance’ EP on cult label Multi Culti, event series ‘Plants Can Dance (and Mushroom’s Sing)’ which explore plant and fungi bioelectricity as a means of live composition, and ‘Black Beacon’, a haunting cassette release and soundwalk series recorded on the abandoned military island of Orford Ness. There, d’Souza explored the eerie intersection of nature, decay, and deep time, gaining special access to restricted buildings to capture long-form soundscape compositions.

Alongside his production work, d’Souza has emerged as a leading voice at the intersection of sound and science. He curated music for Imperial College’s groundbreaking psychedelic therapy trials, developing six-phase playlists to guide participants through psilocybin-assisted sessions treating conditions such as fibromyalgia and gambling addiction. His five-hour ambient set at Watching Trees Festival, selected as Resident Advisor’s Mix of the Day, continued this exploration into the therapeutic potential of sound in altered states. He also spent six months collaborating with BBC producer Tom Raine on a documentary for BBC World Service, centred on a two-week journey through Kenya and Goa. There, he performed live, led plant music workshops, and joined a deep listening retreat rooted in field recording. “I realised my studio isn’t just four soundproofed walls filled with instruments — it’s the journey itself. It’s the people I meet, the natural world I listen to, and the connections I feel.”

This same commitment to deep listening fuels his live concept Plants Can Dance, a project that combines the biosonification of plants and fungi with modular synthesis. The next event, on 14 September at Hideout Hackney Wick, will feature performances by Stella Z and Lapalace, with d’Souza and resident Lamine playing live alongside responsive plants in collaboration with Repot Hackney Wick and the label Music To Watch Seeds Grow By. “I’ve spent years exploring how electronic music can connect us, not just to each other, but to the natural world. Whether it’s translating mushroom data into melody or capturing birdsong at dawn, it’s about finding resonance across bodies, ecosystems, and machines.”

Rooted in his Goan and Kenyan heritage and shaped by years of travel and collaboration, d’Souza’s creative mission is simple: to reconnect the electronic world with the natural one. Through A State of Flo, he continues to blur the boundaries between club culture, sound art, and ecological awareness.

Erik K Skodvin summons his alter ego Svarte Greiner for a dive into the dark, wintery Swedish forest with the score to the psychological thriller/horror film “From Darkness” (orig: Ur Mörkret).

The film is director Philip W. Da Silva's debut and is set largely at night, deep in a Swedish nature reserve where mining used to take place. Loss, mental health and Nordic mythology come together in a story that revolves around the search for a missing woman. The score follows an eclectic and atmospherical path throughout the narrative with an uneasy underlaying vibe; although one with occasional points of refuge in the otherwise vast darkness. There is a gloomy, barely tangible sound of Nordic folk tradition buried in the music, even if it comes across in a different, more abstract way, where the various instruments are often used more as sound sources that are improvised (and abused) into becoming their own element. Skodvin performed and recorded the majority himself. In addition, he commissioned free improviser Axel Dörner to participate with his unique, custom-built electro-acoustic interface, which, along with Claudio Puntin's processed reeds and additional electronics, has been built into the elaborate backdrops to create an entire world that balances on the border between the approachable and the elusive - not unlike the journey of the protagonists. Skodvin's partner in Deaf Center, Otto A Totland, appears on piano in the stand out piece “What have you become?”.

The result is a harrowing yet deeply melancholic journey through the human psyche. One that echoes through the dark forests, cabins and lost mines of the desolate Swedish woodlands.

“It is presumed that as humans mined ore in the 1800s, they had many mishaps and dug too deep, leading them to assume they had unleashed some evil spirit that was guarding the ore. She was referred to as "Cave Wraith". It was said that she employed darkness to lure miners to their deaths. They prohibited villagers from visiting during the darkest months of the year. Some used sacrifices to subdue the evil entity.”

The vinyl is released in an edition of 150 numbered copies, with screenprinted artwork on black cardboard inside a screenprinted PVC sleeve, incl. Riso-printed insert with liner notes by Mike Lazarev, 180g vinyl.

Black vinyl LP. Following 2019's acclaimed self-titled debut album, Metal Preyers take the left hand path into a gloomy backwater filled with haunted creatures and fraught with peril. "Shadow Swamps" again finds London-based Jesse Hackett handling the music and Chicago's Mariano Chavez fashioning the album's visual identity, which this time includes a short film and book for a fully immersive experience. "Shadow Swamps" is the soundtrack to a pitch-black fairy tale about a father and daughter as they journey through a swamp avoiding gremlins, red swines and crater creatures. Musically, it pivots between the clattering Czech new wave experimentation of "Valerie and her Week of Wonders" composer Luboš Fišer, or the magical, eccentric lounge of Birmingham's Broadcast, and the grinding industrial grot of Italian pioneer Maurizio Bianchi. This time around, Hackett has roped in production assists from his six year-old-daughter wonder Nyasha hackett who used phone memos to record herself singing - veteran Metal Preyers collaborator Lord Tusk, and Manchester-based painter, DJ and producer Richard Harris, aka Sockethead. The crew inks an unsettling, richly textured sonic landscape, with claws of rhythmic smoke curling around chiming otherworldly xylophone, disembodied fiddle drones echoing over screwed 'n chopped beatbox dirt and half-heard magical vocals buried under clouds of white noise. Track listing: 1 Murking Shadows 2 Ecto Green Code 3 The Preyers Forest 4 Scream Dreamer 5 Red Swines 6 Crate Creature 7 Carpenters Cabin 8 Slime Things Accent 9 Wasp Faced Invasion 10 Metal Mans Revolt 11 On Her Way 12 Gremlin Gurgle 13 Shadow Swamps 14 Escape - The Sunrise

A disco-funk venture laced with balearic pop as nostalgic as it is buoyant, Dijon-based outfit FLAUR land their inaugural EP on Cosmocities Records. Comprised of three original songs shifting gears between electrifying grooves and washed-out downtempo, plus three remixes courtesy of Art of Tones, Gaettson and Faze Action, ‘Hold On’ speaks the language of lively waves and sun-streaked coasts. By turns explosive and contemplative, the duo’s vision covers a wide span of influences and styles, fusing Californian P-funk with a touch of Supertramp-esque disco and nuances of alternative pop lined with silky funk in the style of acclaimed Versailles band, Phoenix.

Full with suave Wurlitzer piano chords and ultra-syncopated slap bass, the lead-track ‘Hold On’ is an ode to 70s disco pop with its satiny textures, solar-powered melody and a swing bound to cause ravage on the dance floor. The perfect mix of luxuriant disco, vibrant boogie house and supra-sensual cosmic escapology. Even more elating, the layered funk of ’Now’ takes us into a choppy swirl of unshackled pizzicatos, iridescent envelopes and epic vocal flights. Recorded live at Mastoid Studio in Paris, ‘On My Mind’ trades the hi-velocity disco of the first two cuts for a poignant, introspective movement, revolving around the bewitching voice of Florian, a piano and riffs draped in melancholic reverbs. A sonic journey round the confines of soulful dream pop and further intimate songwriting.

In the hands of another rising Dijon-based artist, Gaettson, ‘On My Mind’ morphs into a dance floor-oriented missile, mixing a highly volatile strain of corrosive IDM, sharp breaks and nervy vocal samples. Remixing ‘Hold On’, South of France producer Art of Tones takes us on a proper cosmic trip, laying further emphasis on the original's funky impact through sun-drenched loops a la Alan Braxe and Fred Falke, and a buildup tailored for extended seaside afters; feet buried deep in the sand, head up in the clouds. UK groove legends Simon and Robin Lee, alias Faze Action, round off the package with a chiselled revamp of ’Now’. Slightly accelerated and built for the club, this remix treats us to a pure moment of dance-ready bliss, packed with sinuous rhythms, dynamic bass and fevered percussions.

Fashion Flesh tears the fabric of space and time. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute. With side A’s 'Atoms Revolt', ESP cordially introduces Fashion Flesh, AKA John Talaga, to the deepest corners of your mind. Using largely homemade electronics, circuit-bent gadgets, and tape manipulation, John manages to tap into the innate character of these otherwise introverted machines, eavesdropping and documenting their buried inner dialogue. His command of distortion is multi-tiered. On a micro level, he induces happy accidents and shepherds stray elements. Zooming out a bit, we begin to understand the sonic meat grinder that equalizes his bag of disparate ingredients. And from a macro vantage point, we fully recognize the greater tool that sculpts all of the above into form. Side B’s 'New Freedom' conjures a specific dystopian image—the byproduct of an artist involuntarily conditioned by the commute between up-river Bay County, Michigan and the Detroit metropolitan area. Like cutting away at flesh and muscle, breaking through the bone to suck the marrow, John depicts both the contrast and parallels between two post-industrial urban landscapes, the banal trek across The Thumb between them, and the gradual disintegration of agriculture as one nears the Techno city. Voice fragments begin to stutter in syncopation like radio frequencies interfering with our psyche, Geiger counters wail and moan, untamed oscillations mimic caged primates rioting at the zoo, and a steady-firing piston of drums struggles to break through a dense harmonic soot. The depth of personality John extracts through his manipulation process is remarkable— a point-of-view that foreshadows humanity’s looming technological singularity while hinting that it may have always been here, hiding in plain sight, waiting to be given a voice. These two songs will trip your circuit breakers.

Since launching her own club night, “Motivation,” back in 2018, B.AI has played a key role in bringing the underground’s club sounds to her home country, China. While introducing some of the scene's most exciting artists to her local audiences, she emerged as one to look out for as well: first as a DJ and quickly thereafter as a producer. Her original takes – a sensitive, highly personal approach to melody and a knack for playing with expectations – crystallized in a slew of A+ releases and a couple of international tours. This trajectory, shaped by taking matters into her own hands and self-empowerment, now sees a logical next step, with the inception of a label that will also operate under the “Motivation” banner and features her own “Hope” EP as its first release.

Sparkling mallets, with synth-pop quality catchiness, open the title track. Rather than further evolving, their two-bar arrangement gets looped over and again, serving as the foundation for a slick FM bass rhythm and a variety of hooks. Although these incline to the bright, the overall vibe is melancholic. In vintage B.AI style, the aptly titled “Hope” is more ambiguous than its patches suggest. Similarly, the vocal this type of palette would call for ultimately comes in the form of aloof, covert musings. A bit buried in the mix, they are most efficient – just like the tension that keeps brooding underneath the surface.

“Murderbot Diaries 1991” turbocharges four-to-the-floor synthetic drums with an arpeggiated rolling bass. The blue note melody on top feels sequenced via a pocket calculator, and the dissonant, electroclash-reminiscent stabs that follow might sound even more angular. The tune is frantic, sinister – and perhaps above all tongue in cheek. It reaches fever pitch with the arrival of a tubular bell theme between the two breaks.

“Once”’s slomo cutoff modulation on the 16th note mid-bass instantly creates a sultry atmosphere that meshes greatly with the pastel cool of the gently delayed DX7 leads. The energy drifts between effortless control and uncertain outcome. These contrasts are amplified as the drums alternate amidst moderation and beat-repeat rendered havoc.

On “Only We Know,” a progressive sine lead lays out the central motif. Yet as briskly as it appears, it makes way for detuned, gliding square waves taking on the same theme. This outlines the track’s structure: as slightly morphed repetitions keep getting introduced almost haphazardly, a dreamlike, mesmerizing ambience unfolds. Techy drum rhythms and a 101-type bass make sure everything stays fuelled. Within the ingenious tapestry of melodies and new twists, it never loses touch with the dance floor. It illustrates B.AI’s club savvy neatly and is therefore a perfect closer for this EP.

Maverick UK producer Kevin Richard Martin (Zonal / Techno Animal / King Midas Sound) joins Relapse for the release of his devastating new double album Machine, his first solo instrumental record as THE BUG.

Machine started life as a series of self-released "floor weapons" (to use Martin’s description), landing in installments between 2023 and 2024 on the Bandcamp page of Martin’s own PRESSURE label. And now - always his intention - Martin has collated a single, powerful, unified statement from those EPs. The album detonates apocalyptic dread-tech mutations of crushing intensity, fusing a unique new strain of futuristic dub with deadly deep electronics and killer bass riffs worthy of the heaviest metal. It is, writes Martin, “ice cold and dystopian.” It celebrates “atmospheric pressure, and the joy of full body assaults, via oversized sound systems in undersized club rooms.” Machine also represents the latest metamorphosis of the "Macro Dub Infection" philosophy Martin germinated with the groundbreaking series of compilations he began curating for Virgin Records as early as the mid 90’s.

Seoul duo Salamanda arrive on Wisdom Teeth with their latest and most focused LP yet: 'In Parallel' - a vividly textural and immersive record that brings a new level of clarity to their typically psychedelic, expansive approach. Since arriving in 2019, the pair - comprised of friends Uman Therma (aka Sala) and Yetsuby (aka Manda) - have been fast at work mapping out their elaborate, dream-state sonic world - prolifically honing their sound across four albums and over a dozen singles to date. Across their already-extensive discography the pair have established a few key calling cards. Mallet instruments and tuned drums play out playful music-box melodies. Thick washes of gaseous ambience invoke otherworldly or ancient soundscapes. And buried fragments of found sound and manipulated vocal give their otherwise synthetic compositions a warm sense of first-person narrative. Ambient and Reich-school minimalism are the music’s most obvious sonic touchstones - yet the pulse of contemporary club and pop music have never been totally out of earshot. All of these themes come in to play here - but 'In Parallel' signals a step well beyond Salamanda’s work to date. Since 2022’s 'ashbalkum' (released on Wisdom Teeth alumni Tristan Arp’s label, Human Pitch), the duo have toured extensively: at classical institutions like London’s Kings Place as well as DIY club dens like Manchester’s White Hotel, all via a series of globally renowned festivals like Mutek, Nachti and Dekmantel. Their creative set-up has grown steadily alongside to incorporate a whole suite of new machines, processes and perspectives, taking their music in bold new directions in the process. The clearest development here is in the duo’s use of vocals - a shift that has been slowly taking place over their last few records, but that comes to a head on In Parallel. The album’s lead single 'Homemade Jam' is the closest the duo have come to writing an all-out pop track: its buoyant beat and autotuned vocals sounding like something SOPHIE and Charli XCX could have written after a particularly potent batch of mushroom tea. It’s a razor-sharp slice of alt-pop that offers a mouthwatering first look at what happens when Salamanda’s sprawling, unbridled creative energy is distilled right down into something concentrated and polished. At other points their sonic explorations lead them to embrace a more upfront approach to rhythm, skirting closer than ever before to the dancefloor in the process. The meandering drums and vocal chops on 'Paper Labyrinth' are underpinned by a firm 4x4 pulse, while the dembow groove of 'Tonal, Fluid' would feel right at home in a Nick León or DJ Plead set. 'In Parallel' is a record about connection, and the warmth and nostalgic simplicity of friendship is felt vividly throughout. Its title refers to the harmony the duo have found between them as friends and collaborators - and sonic parallels are traced throughout the record as testament to this. Motifs come and go before reappearing at later points: take, for example, the melody underpinning ‘Sun Tickles’, which returns in a different key and tempo on album closer ‘Mysterious Wedding’. Parallel lines are traced between each artist and through their music, linking back to their past and pointing ahead to the future. Only Salamanda know where these will take us next.

Somewhere close to Manchester’s ever changing city centre, as the sun fades and peeks through the newest glass facade, you’ll find Shaking Hand. One part in shadow, the other basking in prisms of light as they sketch out their own sonic landscapes in the dusty redbrick mill they call home. One that is just about clinging on from the encroaching developments that surround them.

Against this back-drop where buildings are constantly torn down & built back again, the three piece craft away. Pulling from early post-rock, and 90s US alternative rock, crafting their own brand of Northwest-emo. Assembling something new, yet nostalgic. Looking ahead towards the transforming horizon. Shaking Hand’s music is built on tension and release – quiets that stretch, louds that overwhelm. Repetition that feels both hypnotic and destabilising.

The band’s musical DNA runs through experimental guitar outfits like Women, Slint, Sonic Youth, Pavement, and Ulrika Spacek, balanced with the melodic sensibility of Big Thief and the dynamic intimacy of Yo La Tengo. Their compositions push against structure: sudden jolts of tempo, polyrhythms that almost fall apart, and riffs that unravel into something fragile or ecstatic. Yet, as Ellis notes, there’s an underlying warmth too: “Like walking through an empty city late at night but catching flickers of life in the buildings you pass.”

Early ideas like ‘Night Owl’ and ‘Sundance’ grew out of George’s lockdown “bedroom years,” where new tunings (open E, drop D, and stranger Pavement-inspired set-ups) opened up uncharted textures. Later, in grim rehearsal rooms, the murky epic ‘Cable Ties’ and the hypnotic ‘Mantras’ absorbed the gloom and grit of the band’s surroundings.

The album was recorded with producer David Pye (Wild Beasts, Teenage Fanclub) at Nave Studios in Leeds, housed in a converted church. “The live room was huge and perfect for capturing our sound,” says George. Determined to bottle their onstage energy, the band tracked the foundations live, layering vocals and guitars later. Soviet-era microphones, odd mic placements, and even phone-recorded demos fed into the mix. “You’ve got to watch out for David though,” Freddie laughs. “He made me play four tambourines in one hand, really hurt, man.”

Lyrically, the record drifts between abstraction and lived moments. George’s words often spill out instinctively, words falling into place before their meaning becomes clear. “A lot of the lyrics look like they’re buried in abstraction,” he says, “but when I look back I can see what they were about — whether that’s an emotional response at the time or just an observation of what was happening around me”. There’s contrast at the heart of it all – optimism vs. doubt, the lightness of youth vs. the monotony of work, a city in constant redevelopment vs. the people drifting through it.

The album artwork is taken from unused plans for the 1970s redevelopment of Los Angeles by architect Ray Kappe, entitled ‘People Movers’. Hypothetical buildings for real people, it feels a complement to the band’s own constructions. One thing’s for sure, Shaking Hand’s debut is built to last.

Creaked out of an eck with two heads and no brain - just fracking around. Juli Zimmer and Sayizan Stange are Blowjobs Are Real Jobs, crawling right under your skin. Armed with guitar, MS-20 and a trashy drum machine, they bark about dogs, ostriches, stolen bodies, heads buried in sand, plastic spoons in freezer pops, and the big question of where the hell this whole loving-living thing is going anyway. The songs build up expectations like a delicious drink, which then, oops, gets taken away and never delivered. That’s how it is sometimes, you little puffball!

End of 2025, Blowjobs Are RealJobs dropped their first DIY tape, Bloody Situation Menstruation Masturbation. Their notorious sets, somewhere between performance art and riot gig, pop up almost monthly: gallery openings, summer garden chaos, or grimy St. Pauli basement bars. Now the duo’s first 7-inch vinyl brings 5 songs at 45 rpm with a fold-out cover, limited to 200 copies.

To decay is also to transform. Rusting metal is the visible traces of passing time, as the oxidation process accumulates dampness in our atmosphere and imprints it as unpredictable patterns onto hard iron and steel. Working in construction for a year now, Kensho Nakamura sees rust all the time, clambering up ageing chunks of material. Normally discarded as waste, Nakamura began discerning beauty in the phenomenon, organically spiralling around and consuming some of the very hardest of manufacturing stuffs into unique new forms.

‘Electric Rust’ continues the conceptual electronic composition mode of Nakamura’s previous works with a series of fractured musical dioramas. These scurrying notes, sparse hums, and quivering bleeps explore the topics of rust and the accumulation of time. The music ticks like a clock, drips like a tap, and manifests unknowable inorganic shapes. Recognisable musical snippets of bells, pianos, or murmured voices are buried inside counterintuitive synthetic rhythms and tension.

On ‘wet air’ piano notes tinkle and pipes gargle, digital detritus tap dances and arpeggios stumble. On ‘unique faces’, idle marimbas and malfunctioning animalistic squeaks flounder. This is music from the promethean space between being forgotten and being conceived. ‘Electric Rust’ is a topography of a world of rust, where corroding structures evolve into new — and beautiful — patterns of life.

Across an extensive suite of enchanting miniatures, Matthias Kremsreiter and Christian Schoppik present the hypnagogic vision of Taghelle Nacht. Recording under their respective Roudi Vagou and Läuten der Seele aliases, Kremsreiter and Schoppik combine their distinct but equally accomplished instrumental practices into a new collaboration that weaves swooning samples amongst instrumental passages. They lead us through 16 vignettes that revel in the cognitive dissonance and seductive magic of moonlight at midnight.

Both artists have past form within the folds of contemporary experimental electronic music in Germany. Kremsreiter's work as alibikonkret has manifested on DIY tape releases created with a methodical, technically-minded approach. Debuting his Roudi Vagou pseudonym on Taghelle Nacht, he pivots to a more playful, instinctively felt method that allows the compositions to flow with a natural cadence. Schoppik has been a key figure in the celebrated dark-ambient-folk scene, not least as part of the group Brannten Schnüre. His work as Läuten der Seele includes the acclaimed 'water trilogy' of LPs between 2022 and 2024, with a greater emphasis on instrumental, atmospheric production, and a last, stunning collaborative album with Nový Sv?t's Jota Solo.

On Taghelle Nacht the precise ingredients of each piece soften at the edges as tape loops and swathes of reverb seal the joints between spellbinding melodic refrains. Opening track and lead single 'Gleisende Lichter' sets the tone with ghostly murmurs, spine-tingling string refrains and splashes of cymbal that cut through the gloom with stark clarity. A lilting romanticism stirs at the heart of the orchestral samples that populate the likes of "Grenzu?berschreitung" - old-world beauty sometimes buried in dust, elsewhere rendered with startling clarity. 'So Süß' lets buzzing, sustained drones and dissonant sweeps of extended technique glide in and out of each other. Granular processing subtly breaks apart the mellow swell on 'Komischer Anruf', and forlorn sax calls out into heavy-hearted space on 'Glaskopf Mit Watte'. At every turn a new scene is painted, distinct from the last and yet all bound up in the pervasive, pale blue light cast over the sleeping landscape Kremsreiter and Schoppik have sculpted.

Snatches of song drift by like dreamlike fragments, and achingly tender flourishes fleetingly appear and retreat - ideas and expressions momentarily caught in the light before retreating into the shadows once more. This is the evocative world of Taghelle Nacht - an unsettling depiction of the surreal blend of memories and imagination that merge into each other once the sun goes down.

Jagged City unveils their debut instrumental EP, `There Are More of Us, Always`, a bold collection that moves between spacious, melodic guitar passages and raucous, swelling climbs. With heartfelt, melodious songwriting, a diverse range of eclectic touches buried within, and eruptions of dense, layered sound, this record delivers wonderfully balanced compositions through raw and personal production. The project began as a cross-continental art experiment between Jake Woodruff (Defeater) and Carlos Torres (former touring member of Explosions In The Sky). What started as a simple exchange of ideas quickly found real shape through collaborative composition and thoughtful arrangement. Early sessions with David Haik helped refine the songs' structures and drum frameworks, setting the groundwork for what would become Jagged City's striking debut. "We wrote with pure instinct, just tried to add something new to a genre that we love. As we traded ideas, we took some left turns and incorporated elements that may be unexpected." (Woodruff) The result feels immediate, deviously rough at the edges, and charged with a punk-minded intensity that keeps the momentum taut and the sound intimate. RIYL Mogwai, Do Make Say Think, Godspeed, Mono, Defeater, Explosions In The Sky

Jagged City unveils their debut instrumental EP, `There Are More of Us, Always`, a bold collection that moves between spacious, melodic guitar passages and raucous, swelling climbs. With heartfelt, melodious songwriting, a diverse range of eclectic touches buried within, and eruptions of dense, layered sound, this record delivers wonderfully balanced compositions through raw and personal production. The project began as a cross-continental art experiment between Jake Woodruff (Defeater) and Carlos Torres (former touring member of Explosions In The Sky). What started as a simple exchange of ideas quickly found real shape through collaborative composition and thoughtful arrangement. Early sessions with David Haik helped refine the songs' structures and drum frameworks, setting the groundwork for what would become Jagged City's striking debut. "We wrote with pure instinct, just tried to add something new to a genre that we love. As we traded ideas, we took some left turns and incorporated elements that may be unexpected." (Woodruff) The result feels immediate, deviously rough at the edges, and charged with a punk-minded intensity that keeps the momentum taut and the sound intimate. RIYL Mogwai, Do Make Say Think, Godspeed, Mono, Defeater, Explosions In The Sky

A meditative, folk-inflected score rooted in improvisation, ‘Dragon’s return’ echoes the soul of A film long buried behind the Iron Curtain



With Dragon’s Return, Australian composer and multi-instrumentalist Oren Ambarchi and Norwegian guitarist Fredrik Rasten present a new, meditative score to Eduard Grecner’s eponymous 1967 Slovak cult film — a stark, black-and-white parable.



The album captures a unique live performance recorded at the Videodroom Festival during Film Fest Ghent in October 2024, where this new score premiered alongside the film in collaboration with the Slovak Film Institute. What began as a fleeting, improvisational encounter between music and image has since taken on a life of its own — an evocative sound world that retains its power even in the absence of visuals.



The album will be available on vinyl and all digital platforms from September 12 via VIERNULVIER Records. The vinyl edition includes an obi strip, a booklet with film stills, and extensive liner notes on the film.



The label is known for shedding new light on forgotten films through reimagined soundtracks — claire rousay’s acclaimed The Bloody Lady being the most recent example.


“Folklore meets avant-garde in an ancient drama - a ballad about love, hate and finding a way out of loneliness” - Rastislav Steranka (Slovak Film Institute)



Ambarchi and Rasten do not accompany the images so much as speak through them. Their interplay — on guitars, flutes, percussion, and voice — unfolds slowly, without a fixed destination, culminating in subtle, entrancing drones. With few breaks or ruptures, this trippy, folk-inflected continuous composition invites surrender.



Rasten’s 12-string guitar and delicate use of voice create layered textures that shimmer and shift. Ambarchi, known for his electro-acoustic work, here explores a radically softer mode — strumming, bowing and coaxing tones from his instrument as though it were a string section unto itself. He blows into shells, adding breath and texture to the sonic palette, touching on something elemental.


Together, they evoke a sound world that feels both ritualistic and strangely familiar — as if echoing from a forgotten ceremony or dreamed into being after hearing an old folk tale. Rooted in improvisation, the music speaks in tones both intimate and expansive, shaped live in dialogue with the film and with each other, with only minimal overdubs added afterward.

2LP, 9mm spine gatefold sleeve with silver hot foil & metallic inks. Printed inner sleeves. Engraving on Side D, the vinyl here is of silvery colour. Pelagic reissued THE OCEAN's 2010 albums "Heliocentric" and "Anthropocentric" on vinyl! "Heliocentric" was the first album with current vocalist Loïc Rossetti, a game changer in the band's history. The album is characterized by his shimmering cleans alongside abrasive, powerful screams. "Heliocentric" sees the band venture into calmer territories as compared to its predecessors: the album is defined not solely by walls of guitars, but also by careful orchestrations of piano, upright bass, strings and textural electronics. Conceptually "Heliocentric" is a comprehensive critique of the legacy of christianity: the iconic opening track "Firmament", still a fan's favourite, starts off with original text from the bible; while "Ptolemy Was Wrong" and "Catharsis of A Heretic" tackle Gallilei's and Copernicus' discoveries that Earth is not at the center of the universe, for which Giordano Bruno was burnt at the stake. The album concludes with Charles Darwin's theory of evolution, and considerations by Richard Dawkins', the spearhead of modern day's aetheism, in the epic 14 minutes closing track duality "The Origin Of Species" and "The Origin Of God". For fans of BREACH TOOL THRICE NINE INCH NAILS CULT OF LUNA ISIS KARNIVOOL ROSETTA RUSSIAN CIRCLES MONO MASTODON OPETH BETWEEN THE BURIED AND ME PINK FLOYD

Reissued blue (!) vinyl! The "centrics"-albums saw the introduction of current vocalist Loïc Rossetti to the band's lineup, a game changer in their 17 years history. "Anthropocentric" is heavier than its same-year predecessor "Heliocentric", with the crushing 15-minutes openening track duality "The Grand Inquisitor" part I and II and following track "She Was The Universe", one of the most-streamed THE OCEAN tracks to date, setting the bar high for the rest of the album. Since 2001, the Berlin-based musician collective THE OCEAN have released 7 critically acclaimed studio albums, and a split EP with Japanese post-rock legends Mono. With an ever-changing lineup of various on- and off-stage musicians and visual artists, the relentlessly touring group have become well known for their immense, mind-expanding live shows, which they have carried into the most remote corners of the globe, from Siberian squats to colonial theatres in Ecuador. Over the course of their storied career, THE OCEAN have toured with Opeth, Mastodon, Mono,The Dillinger Escape Plan, Anathema, Between The Buried And Me and Devin Townsend, and have appeared on major festivals including Roskilde, Dour, Pukkelpop, Roadburn, Wacken, With Full Force, Summer Slaughter, Summer Breeze and Graspop. pn: this is coloured double vinyl, the stickersays Golden, but in fact it's Blue (Gold).

RAW, RUTHLESS AND CEREMONIALLY DARK!

Only two years after its inception in 2023, the ominous entity hailing from Germany has come up with their first full-length. Consisting of 6 songs with the first one being an instrumental intro, "Fiery Paths" is a very convincing effort on all levels. Notwithstanding the fact INFERNAL PRESENCE has only been active for 2 years, their hybrid of Black and Death Metal sounds as if it had been composed by a seasoned band. Unlike many outfits whose songs consist of a salad of riffs randomly thrown together, INFERNAL PRESENCE are apt at cleverly composing their material by frequently alternating between different tempi and moods. Fast tremolo picked riffs akin to DISSECTION or MAYHEM are alternated with palm muted Thrash riffs or atmospheric slow-paced arpeggios reminding of WATAIN or ONDSKAPT.

In so doing the two-piece creates dynamic songs that succeed in truly capturing the listener's attention. Just listen to standout tracks like "Eternal Exodus" or the exceptional "Tomb Procession" with its slithering groove and you will see our point proven. Although, only sharing certain musical elements with said bands, the suffocating atmosphere of "Fiery Paths" reminds of NEGATIVE PLANE's first album or early SECRETS OF THE MOON. Fortunately, the production fits the material just splendidly, too. While being gritty and raw, thus emphasising the album’s ferociousness, it's still polished enough so that no detail gets buried in the mix.

INFERNAL PRESENCE unleashed a record suffused with unrelenting darkness! If you consider yourself a fan of some of the bands mentioned above, do yourself a favour and listen to this beast of an album!

Autodidactic musicologist and sample collagist U turned his archival eye on the melting pot of ‘80s post-punk with his debut ‘Life Isn’t A Fountain?’ EP for Lex. He follows up with an experimental exploration of regional identity with ARCHENFIELD, a deeply personal collection of ambient music and found sound that examines the relationship between geographical space and aural histories.

To construct this record U mined a wealth of recorded material relevant to the area. With a nod to traditional music, he takes samples from these records and creates beautifully atmospheric sound pieces that are often mixed with painstakingly researched snippets to create a stirring reflection on local history and broader themes of how we interact, or even fail to interact, with English folklore today.

Pressed on 180g vinyl, the album comes with a 24-page visual companion that expands on its themes and folk stories through imagery and narrative, echoing the album’s soundscape. : The Caretaker, Oneohtrix Point Never, JG Bie1berkopf, Maxime Denuc, Leon Vynehall

Heavyweight Dub album by Alien Trackers, a new project by cosmic trumpet specialist Pablo Volt (STA) and Jahtari space ship mechanic disrupt, landing right in the sweet spot between soulful Black Ark-warmth, digital Firehouse dancehall hitters and Jahtarian Dub psychedelics.

A lazy day at a beach, in a galaxy far, far away... Feel the sand between your tentacles and splash in the emerald acid sea. Snorkel with plasma squids and shock eels. Marvel at the double suns during the magic twilight cycle and bask in their glorious gamma rays. Gaze into the depths of the local Vortex...

Coming on alien-green vinyl, with hand drawn art by David 8000 Farris, additional bass & guitars from Dubsworth, and an all four thumbs up-rating, 'Dubs from Vortex Beach' is landing in your orbit right now!
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Returning with its final instalments, Die Schachtel's Decay Music series extends its explorations of inspired contemporary experimental efforts of the ambient, ethereal, and emotively abstract with Luigi Turra and Elio Martusciello’s “Liminale” and Sergio Armaroli and David Toop’s “And I Entered Into Sleep”, two astounding electroacoustic gestures of blurred space and time, plumbing complexity of meaning bound to sonority. Creatively groundbreaking and inspired, radically rethinking the terms of what ambient music can be perceived to be, they stand among the most striking efforts to appear within the series to date.

An aural bridge between two distinct generations of Italian experimental musicians, “Liminale” is the debut collaborative outing from the creative partnership of Luigi Turra and Elio Martusciello. Active within the context for roughly two decades, Turra (b. 1975) is a reductionist/electroacoustic composer, noted from his tense deployment of concrete and acoustic sources — particularly small sounds and noises — whose work threads the balance between silence, tactile auditory perception, and aleatoric music. Martusciello (b. 1959), on the other hand, is a musician and composer working across the fields of acousmatic and electroacoustic composition, sound installation, multi-media and audiovisual art, and computer music improvisation, who is widely celebrated for both his solo efforts and his collaborations with Eugene Chadbourne, Mike Cooper, Alvin Curran, Chris Cutler, Rhodri Davies, Iancu Dumitrescu, Michel Godard, Tim Hodgkinson, Lawrence D. "Butch" Morris, Jérôme Noetinger, Tony Oxley, Evan Parker, Z'EV, and others.

A single, nearly 40 minute work, extending across the two sides of the LP, “Liminale” — as its title eludes — is an exploration of the liminal through sonic means: “places that exist on the threshold, transitional spaces suspended between a before and an after, between the real and the evanescent” conceiving the soundscape as “a liminal place, a space to be inhabited without the certainty of where it leads.” Unfurling like a labyrinth navigated in darkness, the piece’s first half is marked by sparseness and restraint, as slow-paced guitar tones and harmonics thread silences and resonant ambience within a sprawling sense of space, delicately populated by tiny sounds, fleeting punctuations drawn from undeterminable sources, vocal utterances, and the unexpected appearance of intoxicating piano tones.

As “Liminale” progresses into its second half, Turra and Martusciello enter a more densely populated notion of the in between. No less defined by the presence of space and mystery, discreet textures rustle and writhe within passages of pure concrete abstraction and a fragmented, stretched sense of musicality: long-tones, metallic pulses, minimal vibrations, processed vocalizations, guitar harmonics, and deconstructed piano melodies, buried in spectral, gauzy hazes drifting from beyond arm’s reach within an imagistic and immersive landscape of profoundly meditative scope, where each sonic element flirts the line between emergence and disappearance.

Intimate, fragile, and achingly beautiful, “Liminale”, Luigi Turra and Elio Martusciello’s debut collaboration, is a masterstroke in sound-craft and composition, revealing the potency of meaning locked within transitional spaces and the undefined, and imbuing silence with monumental gravity and weight. Mastered for vinyl by Giuseppe Ielasi, and taking electroacoustic minimalism to an etherial extreme, “Liminale” is issued as the ninth entry in Die Schachtel’s Decay Music series, highlighting inspired contemporary experimental efforts of the ambient, ethereal, and emotively abstract.

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Los Angeles trio Faetooth sophomore album Labyrinthine is a deeply felt exploration of emotional weight: grief, memory, uncertainty, and the quiet work of growing around your own wounds. Following the band's 2022 debut Remnants of the Vessel, which introduced the band’s signature blend of heaviness and mysticism, Labyrinthine pushes further inward. True to its name, the album winds through a maze of feeling and form, where meaning is never handed over easily. It’s rooted in self-discovery through disorientation, the idea that understanding comes not from escape, but from getting lost. Ari May (guitars and vocals), Jenna Garcia (bass and vocals), and Rah Kanan (drums) manage to stay grounded in the immediate in parallel with fantasy themes of the band's namesake. Labyrinthine holds space for this contradiction; tenderness and intensity, restraint and release. The band's self-branded “fairy doom” sound fits between shoegaze, doom, and grunge. It isn’t just texture; it’s a framework for navigating the unsaid. Like the myth that inspired its title, Labyrinthine doesn’t end in victory, but in confrontation—not with escape, but with the Minotaur. Only here, the Minotaur isn’t a monster. It’s something quiet and more familiar: unresolved feelings, old memories, and sadness that refuse to stay buried. The album winds like a maze, sometimes heavy, sometimes hushed, always intentional. Faetooth isn’t chasing catharsis. They’re creating space to reflect, to feel, and maybe to get a little lost along the way.
Artist quote: "White Noise" emerged from a diary entry, and is a relentless and intense reflection on inner turmoil. We’re often drawn to the familiar, even when we don’t realize we’re reaching out for it. It is an emotional upheaval, carrying harsh truths that weigh heavily on the heart. Guitarist, Ari May mentions, “Performing the song always takes me back to a specific place, even if just for a moment.”
“Riffs and melodies brimming with loneliness and longing… this band’s incantations affect my mood the whole day after listening.” — The Sleeping Shaman
“Bringing otherworldly hazy doom goodness… dreamy clean vocals, echoing harsh vocals, entrancing riffs, meditative shoegaze melodies.” — Nine Circles
“Slow, lumbering behemoths of great weight… couched in a melancholy atmosphere and explosions of crushing heaviness.” - Where Strides The Behemoth

Chickasha, Oklahoma is not a place known for producing a lot of original proto-punk bands. In fact, there is, to our knowledge, only one: Debris'. Formed in 1975 by bassist Chuck Ivey, guitarist Oliver "Rectomo" Powers and drummer Johnny Gregg, the trio created some of the most art-damaged outsider rock 'n' roll this side of MX-80 Sound.

When a local studio offered the package deal of ten hours for recording and mixing as well as pressing 1,000 LPs and two-color jackets, Debris' came in well-rehearsed – nailing all eleven of their songs in just one take. In April 1976, the same month as Ramones' debut album, Debris' would release their lone record onto the world.

Opener "One Way Spit" could easily be mistaken for a lost KBD single – from Chuck's bizarre count-in to the band's trashy start-stop rhythms, unfurling a Dadaist flag around Johnny's visceral vocals. On "Tricia," a reference to the then-current Patty Hearst trial, Oliver's gruesome groans are sardonically juxtaposed with an electric saw. These LSD-tinged tunes are a potent mix of Beefheart-ian controlled chaos and the genuinely weird avant-rock associated with the mid-'70s Cleveland scene.

Enhanced by analog synthesizers and electronic effects, the album sounds like Eno-era Roxy Music or Stooges' Fun House buried deep in the red Oklahoma dirt. While punk would spark a handful of bands who boldly straddled the line between the primal and the experimental, the relatively unsung Debris' were one of the first to do so.

Debris' had a standing invitation to play New York at Max's Kansas City and CBGB in 1976, although they never made it out of Oklahoma. The private-press edition of their self-titled album (also known as Static Disposal, which was actually the label name printed on the original front cover) has since become a collector's item and is even namechecked on the infamous NWW list.

If anyone knows how to roll with the punches, it’s Travis Roberts. At 24, the Texas songwriter has already battled addiction, buried friends, and been so broke he couldn’t put a roof over his head. Hell, he even joined an underground fight club just to pay for studio time.

“Whoever won the fights took home the lion’s share of the money,” he explains, “but even if you lost, you made something. I lost a lot, but I got what I needed out of it.”

It should be no surprise, then, that Roberts comes out swinging on his blistering debut, Rebel Rose. Recorded with Roberts’ longtime live band, The Willing Few, the album fuses earnest country storytelling with rowdy rock and roll energy as it blurs the lines between roots, punk, folk, and power pop. The writing is raw and visceral here, built on gritty portraits of working-class underdogs just trying to get by, and the performances are nothing short of explosive, propelled by a relentless rhythm section, searing guitars, and infectious melodic hooks. The result is an exhilarating album that defies easy categorization, an alternately bruising and triumphant reflection on growing up, getting clean, and giving it your all from an artist who’s taken more than his fair share of hits.

Every fighter knows, it doesn’t matter how many times you get knocked down. All that matters is how many times you get back up

Congratulations, Electro connoisseur! You are about to enter the Electrifying Dojo. A place where Sifu pdqb and Sensei Rolando teach a transcendental, one-of-a-kind neo-futuristic martial art that does not use hands but something far more delicate and powerful: MUSIC.

Blending martial discipline with the art of electronic music is something deeper, something that no words can properly describe. The skills you will be taught here are feeling music, embodying it. pdqb and Rolando believe that true harmony comes when the mind, body, and soul are united in the sounds that vibrate through the air.

The sounds of this first lesson are soft at first, almost imperceptible. But then they grow into a delicate, trembling melody that fills the room with an emotion that is difficult to place. It isn’t sadness, nor is it joy, but something in between. The more you listen, the more you will be aware of something strange: tears will fall gently, silently. They are not forced, nor are they out of sorrow - it is simply because the music feels so beautiful. Your deepest emotions will be triggered, every note will carry out an old truth, a secret truth, buried deep in your heart.

Another quality drop from Synaptic Cliffs. 4 dark and beautiful signature-style Electrocognition journeys from pdqb, playful with a modern twist while still remaining loyal to its roots. And on the flipside: two stunning, classic Rolando remixes, each with the potential to be the crowning moment in the club.

Khadim is a stunning reconfiguration of the Ndagga Rhythm Force sound. The instrumentation is radically pared down. The guitar is gone; the concatenation of sabars; the drum-kit. Each of the four tracks hones in on just one or two drummers; otherwise the sole recorded element is the singing; everything else is programmed. Synths are dialogically locked into the drumming. Tellingly, Ernestus has reached for his beloved Prophet-5, a signature go-to since Basic Channel days, thirty years ago. Texturally, the sound is more dubwise; prickling with effects. There is a new spaciousness, announced at the start by the ambient sounds of Dakar street-life. At the microphone, Mbene Diatta Seck revels in this new openness: mbalax diva, she feelingly turns each of the four songs into a discrete dramatic episode, using different sets of rhetorical techniques. The music throughout is taut, grooving, complex, like before; but more volatile, intuitive and reaching, with turbulent emotional and spiritual expressivity.

Not that Khadim represents any kind of break. Its transformativeness is rooted in the hundreds upon hundreds of hours the Rhythm Force has played together. Nearly a decade has passed since Yermande, the unit's previous album. Every year throughout that period — barring lockdowns — the group has toured extensively, in Europe, the US, and Japan. With improvisation at the core of its music-making, each performance has been evolutionary, as it turns out heading towards Khadim. “I didn’t want to simply continue with the same formula," says Ernestus. “I preferred to wait for a new approach. Playing live so many times, I wanted to capture some of the energy and freedom of those performances.” Though several members of the touring ensemble sit out this recording — sabar drummers, kit-drummer, synth-player — their presence abides in the structure and swing of the music here.

Lamp Fall is a homage to Cheikh Ibra Fall, founder of the Baye Fall spiritual community. The mosque in the city of Touba is known as Lamp Fall, because the main tower resembles a lantern. Soy duggu Touba, moom guey séen / When you enter Touba, he is the one who greets you. After a swift, incantatory start Mbene sings with reflective seriousness. Her voice swirls with reverb, over a tight, funky, propulsive interplay between synth and drums, threaded with one-two jabs of bass. Cheikh Ibra Fall mi may way, mo diayndiou ré, la mu jëndé ko taalibe... Cheikh Ibra Fall amo morome, aboridial / Cheikh Ibra Fall shows the way forward, he gives us strength, he gathers his disciples... Overflowing with grace, Cheikh Ibra Fall has no equal.

Interwoven with Wolof proverbs, Dieuw Bakhul is a recriminatory song about treachery, lies, and back-biting. Over moody, roiling synths and ominous, lean bass, Mbene throws out fluttering scraps of vocal, as if re-running old conversations in her head. The music shadows her despair to the verge of breakdown, at one moment seemingly so lost in thought and memories, that it threatens to disintegrate. Bayilene di wor seen xarit ak seen an da ndo... Dieuw bakhul, dieuw ñaw na / Stop judging your friends and companions... A lie is no good, a lie is ugly.

Khadim is a show-stopper; currently the centrepiece of Ndagga Rhythm Force live performances. The song is dedicated to Cheikh Ahmadou Bamba, aka Khadim, founder of the Mouride Sufi order. Serigne Bamba mi may wayeu / Serigne Bamba is the one who makes me sing. The verses name-check revered members of his family and brotherhood, like Sokhna Diarra, Mame Thierno, and Serigne Bara. Though Islam has been practised in Senegal for a millennium, it wasn’t until the start of the twentieth century that it began to thoroughly permeate ordinary Senegalese society, hand-in-hand with anti-colonialism. The verses here recall Bamba’s banishment by the French to Gabon, and later to Mauritania, in those foundational times. During exile, his captors once introduced a lion to his cell: gaïnde gua waf, dieba lu ci Cheikhoul Khadim / the lion doesn’t budge, it gives itself over to Cheikh Khadim. Deep, surging bass, steady kick-drum, and simple, reverbed chords on the off-beat lend the feel and impetus of steppers reggae. A reed plays snatches of a traditional Baye Fall melody; the dazzling polyrhythmic drumming is by Serigne Mamoune Seck. Mbene compellingly blends percussive vocalese, narrative suspense, exultant praise, introspection, and grievance.

Nimzat is a devotional tribute to Cheikh Sadbou, a contemporary of Bamba, buried in a mausoleum in Nizmat, in southern Mauritania. Way nala, kagne nala... souma danana fata dale / I call upon you and wonder about you... If I am overwhelmed, come to my aid. The town holds special significance for Khadr Sufism. An annual pilgrimage there is conducted to this day. The rhythm is buoyantly funky; the mood is sombre, reined-in, foreboding. Punctuated by peals of thunder, Mbene sings with restrained, intense reverence; huskily confidential, steadfast. Nanu dem ba Nimzat, dé ba sali khina / Let us go to Nimzat, to seal our devotion.

Mbene Diatta Seck: vocals.
Bada Seck: bougarabou, thiol, mbeung mbeung bal, tungune.
Serigne Mamoune Seck: bougarabou, khine, mbeung mbeung, tungune.
Text by Mark Ainley (Honest Jons).
Mastered by Rashad Becker.
Everything else by Mark Ernestus.

I must admit to being a sucker for two-guitar bands. Ok, Hendrix pulled off a trio. But I don’t care what anybody says: The Yardbirds were a better band than anything that came out of them (Ok, maybe not Zep. But Cream?).

Maybe the reason I go back so far in my references is that, within the two-guitar band format, original new roles are difficult and rare. There’s the classic (socially problematic and often boring) “rhythm/lead” solution. There’s the JB’s or Nile Rodgers’ chicken pickin’ vs comping solution (which avoids chordal clashes by relegating one of the guitars to the role of single-note percussion instrument). There’s Ornette’s Prime Time division between Bern Nix’s rolled-off “jazz” tone and Charles Ellerbee’s trebly wah. Almost everything else is a variation on one of these.


In Ches Smith’s record Clone Row, each piece is built around a different concept for guitar interaction. The delightful and gifted weirdness of Mary Halvorson’s playing is counterpointed, contrasted, unisoned with, played off, juxtaposed (that is to say, enters every relationship possible) with Liberty Ellman’s equally amazing sound palette, chops, and imagination. This definitely ain’t your father’s guitar band.
The overall vibe of the record—despite Halvorson’s occasional noise outbursts or Ellman’s distorted guitar lines (see Mixed Fridge) is neither punk/funk, nor Zorn-ish metal—and certainly not the looser parameters of Ornette’s improvised harmolodics. Smith’s vibraphone playing, Halvorson’s guitar tone (whammy pedal squiggles aside), the brilliant electronics, and (most of all) the compositions themselves are somehow strangely West Coast cool. It’s as if I’m hearing a Jim Hall concert in which one of us did a lot of mushrooms, or (dare I write this?) some post-punk post-Dave Brubeck post-trip-hop experiment with classical form.

This recording is, most of all, about Ches as composer. He’s picked up a lot on his long, strange trip of the last few decades. The Haitian funkiness of his work with We All Break is audible—but deeply buried, encoded in the polyrhythms (check out Heart Breakthrough). His long-running side musician collaborations with John Zorn and Tim Berne are also evident but sublimated here into something new.

Not that improvising is absent. Check out the compelling collective statements in Sustained Nightmare and Ready Beat. Check out the brilliant interplay and bass soloing on Abrade With Me (a Weather Report for the age of extreme weather?) Nick Dunston is my favorite bassist of the new generation, and he plays brilliantly throughout. And Ches’ drumming here has all the groove, energy, and incredible range that have kept him in demand from Saturday night Vodou services to jazz and new music recording sessions (…the thinking man’s rock barbarian?).
The sus chords in Abrade With Me do build, for a moment, towards a fusion type of climax...but just at the moment I was gritting my teeth in anticipated defense against some horrible synth solo, the drums drop out, and we’re transported to the ambient lounge at the rave, and we suddenly understand we’re in the hands of a composer with the power to transport us just about anywhere.
So, this is a composer’s record most of all; a composer’s record performed by musicians who happen to be great improvisers. Ches Smith builds here on his reputation as a gifted new voice with an important vision, while showcasing some of the most creative musicians of our time.