Cerca:concrete cold

Sludge Death Metal mit (Ex-)Mitgliedern von Lay Down Rotten, Milking The Goat Machine, Carnal Ghoul, Demonbreed, Red Stone Chapel und The Great Cold. Aufgenommen von Fernando Hermensa (Knife, Milking The Goat Machine etc.).

Compiled onto one vinyl album for the first time, Landlocked (Numbers, 2026) presents Hallucinator’s 1999 debut album originally released under Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald’s label Chain Reaction. Writing much surrounding the culture of what would be later considered ‘Dub Techno’ and its’ primary distribution center, Hard Wax, leads one down roads of shifting primary sources and decades old overheard smoke break recollections. Maybe brevity primes the listener to the paralinguistic to approach the sound on its terms; focusing on how things are uttered and not what.

This theory will remain unconfirmed. Hallucinator original press release left us with three or so gestures to consider over the years since:

“A new act on CHAIN REACTION”s distinct productional thesis. HALLUCINATOR are 3 people from he UK/London and this their first release ever- that’s all what the artists want to let us know…. This record is dedidacted to the memory of Stephen Lawrence!”

The first gesture is one of personnel. Since ’99, we’ve gotten to learn a bit more about the artists behind the Hallucinator project. All London-based, all writers, composers, and sound-designers— Anna Piva, Edward George, Trevor Mathison. These three seem to flow between parameters as aesthetic tactic and tacit structure to the work itself. For example, other collaborative shapes have come from this lineup including Flow Motion (Piva, George and Mathison) as well as the now defunct Black Audio Film Collective of which George and Mathison are founding members.

The second gesture is in the second line of the previous press release, “distinct productional thesis.” Much of Landlocked’s affect and sequencing seems to suggest an emotional study of entropy at the level of sediment. Rhythms play with space and capacity through polyvalence. The production chose subtractive vertigo, often switching and bringing back in elements that vanished from the track 6 minutes ago. Dubbing out so much of a track, one begins to associate sound akin to memories held in the experience of running your hand across a concrete block as a child. Felt (re)memberance in lieu of narrative tale. Using textures that flicker between colour and percussion, Hallucinator’s 12-tracker of loudspeaker perception music might be a mediation on the psychic wake of the Cold War. Intermittent strata of ambience and groove convects an active margin rifting event underneath a scorched geology of power in Western Europe. Again, this is all grapevine hearsay.

But it’s silence that voices the third gesture. The album’s sparse application of the written word touches on the ennui paradox of being landlocked on an island. Stuck. Trapped in the psychosis of occidental hypercentricism. A looping silence of Black British tragedy: “to the memory of Stephen Lawrence”. 18 year-old Lawrence was stabbed to death at a bus stop in southeast London by six white men in 1993. The rift of grief and implicit reiteration of modern subordination left by this hate act went legally silent for almost two decades until Lawrence’s killers were ultimately sentenced to virtually life in jail in 2012. Only six years removed at the time of Hallucinator’s initial invocation of rememory, the mind-numbing accretion of what Black Studies Professor Denise Ferreira da Silva might call “unpayable debt”, finds demonic ground across Landlocked, forming an aural sense of what continues to be refused.

The album ventures through spaces of overactive non-happenings: ‘Red Angel’’s factory floor dub flashes between smokestack and jungle visions, or the halfway mark’s stilted breath of ‘Dusk’ lending its mood to the sort of sedated dreams built from daily life under colony rule for instance. That linked rhythm links us back to our linked fates across Black and Brown folk is real, thus the syncopated signals through this work behave on the level of transnational radiotelegraphy, sounding out its windswept tension of a body negotiating a meat-grinder schema of linear production and wage for others to know that unspeakable thing can be broadcast in every drum tongue.

As the silence continues to reverb, we return to the sort of meaning-making that cannot be told but felt. Soothing to some, disturbing to others. Landlocked, a Rorschach test for a crumbled empire.

Black Truffle is pleased to present Even Colder Spring, the latest release from the mysterious and wildly prolific Cities Aviv (a.k.a. Wilbert Gavin Mays, who also records as African-American Sound Recordings), a rare appearance from the artist outside his own D.O.T. Audio Arts label. For over a decade, Cities Aviv has twisted hip-hop conventions into the most skewed and splayed forms, layering and lacerating twitching loops, extreme production techniques and his mercurial vocal stylings into hermetic décollage. Across 16 tracks, Even Colder Spring charts Mays’ restlessly experimental approach: what sound like fully formed productions are interrupted suddenly after seconds; interjections of field recordings cue unexpected shifts; details drown under layers of fuzz. His vocal delivery takes in rhythmically intricate rap, barely articulate murmurs and freely melodic song, the latter often with a disorientating lack of connection to the track’s harmonies. The lyrical shifts are as paratactical as the musical movements. Apocalyptic visions of social and cultural uniformity alternate with reflections on mortality, glimpses of everyday life and head-scratching one-liners: ‘Maybe Mars is bougie?’ His reference points are as surprising as ever, the Dante quotes of previous releases joined here by a track named after Henri Bergson’s idea of the élan vital. Australian listeners, in particular, might be especially taken aback to hear ‘Closing Door’ open with the phrase ‘the tyranny of distance’.

While Mays’ work can sometimes be claustrophobically bleak, the productions here are often sparkling, at times touching on the shimmer of private-issue New Age sounds and the more playful end of krautrock. The instrumental ‘Martine Drift’ could almost be a snatch of Cluster’s Zuckerzeit caught through dial-up internet. The distant echoing drums of ‘L_area’ cross Persona’s Som with lo-fi IDM, while closer ‘Final Heaven’ dissolves a cloud of loops across almost seven minutes into ecstatic, rippling distortion. The graphic design, at the artist’s request closely modelled on the format of Corwood Industries, offers as good a clue as any to what awaits the listener on Even Colder Spring: a world at once impossibly opaque and intensely personal.

Balaise was the original title of Vers le Nord’s debut album. In French slang, balaise means something in between badass and flamboyant. The word keeps popping up throughout the record, like a teenager’s graffiti scrawled on a bus shelter after a few drinks. Balaise robots. Balaise ghosts lurking in the shadows. Balaise is the barfly who fantasies about becoming a street vigilante. In many ways, Matthieu Pellerin's new solo project is entirely contained within that word: a gigantic piece one man against the world cobbled together, a monument shaped by hand using layers of synthesizers sounding like cathedral organs cast in concrete.


Stitching this type of freak together took time. Five years, or what sounds like forever in an age obsessed with career trajectories and content strategies. But for Matthieu Pellerin, it was never about career plans or taking the easy road. Or he would have dug up the rotting corpse of Oi Boys, his now-defunct band, whose brief existence and explosive popularity once united sullen skinheads, gothic street punks, and old school punks alike. Or he would have fully embraced the Metz scene, now that the Great International Triple Alliance of the East (Noir Boy George, The Dreams, The Feeling Of Love...) and rising solo acts like Tune Zitoune, Josy Bazar, Fantôme Josepha, and Tony Gerrano have somehow transformed this sprawling open-air heroin camp into an unlikely capital of cool. But Vers le Nord doesn't point East, and it is as a lone rider that Matthieu Pellerin can fully reveal his songwriting scope.


With Le Seul Élément, his first solo project, the Lorraine native had already shown a rare gift for crafting worlds. Picture vast sonic masses stretching like industrial zones, noise-filled fog pierced by pale neon lights and landscapes caught somewhere between the gnarliest dive bar and a doomsday bunker. And slipping through the soul-crushing slowness and fractured blackened atmospheres, one could perceive a throwback to his years plotting in black metal-tinged Loth and Bishop.

Vers le Nord populates those landscapes that once were rough sketches. Damaged characters reign supreme, with a plethora of exquisite mutts brought to life, rather than outcasts committed to the cause. Where Nuits Blanches —his new supergroup featuring members of Rixe, Lion's Law, Headbussa and La Femme— pulls no punches with raw confessions, Pellerin switches gear for tales of robot apocalypses, vagrants and fam-seeking school shooters, delivered with William Sheller-esque rhymes and striking images. Yet even within fiction, he manages to create something deeply intimate, almost defining, showing very little effort: he is a natural. All in all, à l’aise (at ease). Songs resonate deeply with the listener, perhaps because of Pellerin’s odd way or always addressing someone without ever really naming them, a floating, obsessive and inescapable “you” calling us out.


Despite all of the darkness, Vers le Nord stirs deep emotions. There is something of Type O Negative or Anna von Hausswolff in its constant collision of the ludicrous and the epic gothic, its bleak romanticism that never tells a sordid tale. While the vocals remain rooted in a distinctly French punk lineage—think No Class, La Souris Déglinguée and OG Bérurier Noir—the reactor core is hidden somewhere else. Oneohtrix Point Never feels like a closer relative with his ultra-emotional music made of cold synths and disembodied anthems, swallowing and regurgitating forty years of icy, contemplative new wave across ten songs. It comes as no surprise that Lila Ehjä and Aimable, two rising specialists in lowering the temperature below seasonal norms, appear on “Enterrez-moi bordel” (“Bury Me, for fuck's sake”), a grandiose, spectral and magnificently arrogant finale. And in the end, Vers le Nord starts where the original idea was hiding all along: somewhere amid the ruins, definitely balaise and yet somehow, completely à l'aise.

‘They went beyond punk before punk had properly started…the entire album is a controlled explosion of ideas. Nearly fifty years on, This Heat’s debut is something the world has still not completely caught up with.’ - Simon Reynolds

‘Over the years, there have been bands to play as aggressively, or even as strangely, but very few have been able to rise from their collective influences and histories to create music so singularly distinctive and inspiring.’ – Pitchfork 9/10

‘This Heat sounded like the future then ... and still do now.’ - Dan Snaith (Caribou)

Although widely considered to be Post-Punk’s finest, This Heat actually began performing and recording their music in 1976, the early days of London’s punk era. Within their two albums and an EP they perfected a strange and volatile new strain of avant-garde rock that time has proved to be massively influential, a blueprint for much that would follow: post-rock, math rock, homemade musique concrète, experimental electronica.

Numerous critics have recognised the band's influence on the music of Sonic Youth, Glenn Branca, Steven Wilson, Public Image Ltd., Radiohead, Swans, Shellac, Young Knives, Black Dice, Lightning Bolt and numerous other experimental and post-rock bands. Disbanding in 1982 they have left an undeniable legacy that has only continued to grow in stature and relevance.

The album This Heat, also known to fans and critics as the ‘Blue and Yellow’, was their eponymous debut release, recorded in sessions between February 1976 and September 1978 in a variety of studios including their own Cold Storage, a converted cold storage room in the Acme Studios complex. Innovating throughout, they combined loops and tape manipulation (producing for example the proto-drum and bass ‘24 Track Loop’) with live performance and haunting vocals to a complex, dissonant whole. The band recorded everything they ever did – including gigs – and tracks such as “Water” were entirely improvised in the studio.

Having recently passed the 50 year anniversary of their first gig, and the recording of material that appears on their debut album, the group’s surviving members Charles Bullen and Charles Hayward, true to their DIY roots, have set up an imprint to release their recordings for their growing fan base that is increasingly recognising their influential place in music history. 


“I II III” is pure voltage. An EBM synth-punk blasting assault forged in the concrete heart of Kyiv. These tracks don’t just move: they hit, with brutalist force, fury, and cold rage. Each beat stomps forward like a clenched fist, a sound for strobe-lit riots and blacked-out warehouses. Body music as survival instinct and harsh rhythm as revolt. Raw. Unrelenting. Necessary Presented in ONE- OFF truly limited edition of 300 copies lacquered pressed on 180 gr. high quality solid RED vinyl, All tracks have been specially remastered for vinyl by Daniel Hallhuber at Young and Cold Studios (Germany).

Concrete Noir is the latest project from multimedia artist and sound designer Piero Fragola, known for genre-defying ventures like We Love (BPitch Control) and ANGLE (Tiptop Audio Records). With this project, he explores a hybrid space where electronics, voice and image merge into an introspective and shadowy form. The debut album, Romance Ruins, is the first release on the newly founded Frequens Records.

Composed entirely using Tiptop Audio’s ART modular system, it unfolds as a series of layered, emotionally charged compositions. These are structured songs with a physical low-end impact.

Musically, Romance Ruins moves beyond genre boundaries to inhabit a space shaped by contrast and collision. The result is a form of modern hybridization—melancholic yet forceful, intimate yet expansive. The sonic identity is carefully constructed but deliberately raw, emphasizing emotion over precision.

The title itself captures the core of this paradox. Romanticism, in its intensity, may ultimately destroy. And yet, from that destruction, something vital emerges. The album embraces the figure of a decadent hero—a child of broken ideals who reclaims beauty from collapse. It’s a romantic vindication of decadence, a belief that clarity can rise from ruin, and meaning from fragmentation.

Moving through a broad range of tempos, the tracks explore murky, melancholic, tactile and cinematic moods. Synths intertwine with guitars (Fender and Gretsch Dobro). All vocals are performed by Piero Fragola, except on Faraway Places, where his voice is joined by that of Viktoria Lishkee—the album’s only guest appearance.Nearly every track is paired with a video, expanding the work’s audiovisual dimension. As a designer for Tiptop Audio and instructor at IED and LABA in Florence, Fragola brings a multi-sensory vision to Concrete Noir—one where medium and message, form and feeling, are inseparable. With Romance Ruins, he delivers an artistic statement. A body of work that resists categorization and embraces the beauty of decay.

Romance Ruins marks the beginning of Frequens Records. Available in a 180-gram vinyl edition.

First time reissue of this French cold-wave / minimal-synth treasure.



November 1981 – In the heart of autumn, we set off in two cars along the Nationale 1 (!) to reach Choisy-le-Roi, where a 16-track studio was waiting for us—a place where, over the course of a weekend, we would finally be able to carve our own grooves into vinyl. We were quite nervous, as Guerre Froide had already been around for a year and a half. Our elders in Kas Product had already released two EPs—one with four tracks, the other with three—in 1980, even though they’d started only a few months before us. Admittedly, there wasn’t really a sense of urgency—some of us came from the punk movement, where the prevailing mood was still very much No Future, even if we’d long since stopped believing in it... And yet others had truly lost everything, like those from the generation before us. The reasons, ironically, were often the same: heroin and/or love—hard drugs, in both cases.

Speaking of which, I had a terrible stomach ache—due to nerves or some form of tension—which forced us to make a pit stop in the Oise region so I could rush to the toilet of a local café. That same stomach discomfort would hit me again once we arrived at the studio—whose name, incidentally, I’ve since forgotten...

We had gotten there thanks to the generous initiative of a friend, Sylvain S., known as “Perlin” (what a phonetic coincidence!?), who had specifically created the Stechak Products label to produce our record. Stechak because it was consistent with his earlier association called Tchernoziom, and Products as a plural tribute to the trailblazers from Nancy.

Guerre Froide originally consisted of four members: Fabrice Fruchart on guitar-synth (Korg MS-20), Patrick Mallet on bass, and Gilbert Deffais, known as “Bébert”, on Korg drum machine. At the time, I was already singing in a rock/post-punk band called Stress, and that’s how Guerre Froide picked up the bad habit of rehearsing in the same basement in Amiens as Stress. Within a month or two, we had half a dozen songs. We then had the opportunity to record a 4-track demo with a friend from Radio France Picardie, and to perform in October at a festival held at the Amiens municipal circus. Then came the now-legendary concert on November 11 at B.J.’s Club. After that, we self-produced and released 50 completely DIY copies of a cassette titled Cicatrice. A few concerts later—after Jean-Michel Bailleux had joined us on bass and Patrick had switched to guitar, which felt more natural to him—and with more concrete plans starting to take shape, we had to find a new rehearsal space and start renting a room.

Then came the moment when Fabrice told us he was leaving to go study in Lille... After the June 19, 1981 concert, which was naturally dubbed “Farewell to 2F,” Marie-José, Bébert’s wife, offered to take over on synth.

That’s when Perlin, who was a close friend of the Deffais couple and a great fan of our music, offered to fully finance the production of a 4-track 12-inch EP—covering the studio time, mastering, pressing, and artwork. What up-and-coming band would have turned that down? An improvised contract was signed with each member of Guerre Froide. The first step was choosing which four songs we would record. Berlin 81 was an obvious pick, having already become the group’s flagship track. We wanted to avoid reusing songs from Cicatrice, so the focus shifted to new material—some written before, some after Fabrice’s departure. Ersatz, for example, was his composition, but Mauve and Peine Perdue, which were also selected, were both written by Patrick.

Limited 180g black vinyl (500 copies worldwide)
“Marcel Wave combine sharp-eyed Northern lyricism with DIY guitar-janglers rooted in a retro C86 aesthetic. Epic finale ‘Linoleum Floor’...is a gloriously bleak rumination on the horrors of enforced late-night hedonism worthy of prime Pulp” UNCUT
Marcel Wave write eulogies for tragic actresses, ancient riverbeds and concrete obscenity. Their inaugural sonic instalment ‘Something Looming’ is part trades club symphony, part itchy serenade, and part wistful lament. As their heady concoction of ‘Meades meets Pat-E-Smith meets Kirklees Borough Council’ gets prepped to be formally baptised on a dank stage near you, Upset the Rhythm and Feel It Records have dutifully stepped in to deliver its songbook to the masses on both sides of the pond.
Formed when Lindsay Corstorphine and Christopher Murphy of Sauna Youth and brethren Oliver and Patrick Fisher of Cold Pumas were summoned by northern ink-slinger Maike Hale-Jones, Marcel Wave’s debut offering is a walk through a smoke-filled pub with yellowing wallpaper and all eyes on you. It’s a chronicle of the death of the docklands, the decline of industry, of the high street, of civic pride, of civilisations, of hopes and dreams. As Hale-Jones delivers the bad news in her low, West Yorkshire brogue, Corstorphine adds the bells and whistles via the frantic pulsations of a wheezing Hohner organ in tandem with Fisher O’s rasping guitar. MW are completed by the throbbing basslines of Murphy and Fisher P’s fervent rhythms.
The title itself sets the tone for the listener. There’s a sense of foreboding in Hale-Jones’ lyrics which sit at the quintet’s core—elegiac, sardonic and piquant in equal measure. A mixture of narrative epilogues and inward paeans, her words weave tales across a broad thematic church. Crooked tales of urban renewal and the voices left behind are probed in ‘Barrow Boys’ and ‘Stop/Continue’ and are at the fore in ‘Where There’s Muck There’s Brass’ with its refrain lamenting ‘Concrete and slate shine in the rain, cities destroyed, nothing to gain’. In these lyrics, tower blocks loom over terraced houses with the same shadows that the Hollywood sign casts over Peg Entwistle before she takes her tragic leap. ‘Peg’ and ‘Elsie’ are both meditations on two different actresses with different fates crushed by the cut-throat trappings of showbusiness: ‘The mad hopes break, fragile as glass. She traded it all, for the cutting room floor.’ A snaking, existential dread also runs through the album, stated more obliquely in the otherwise poppier interludes of the title track ‘Something Looming’ and album opener ‘Bent Out of Shape’, and present too on the comparatively ramshackle ‘Discount Centre’, where Hale-Jones reports ‘On a mini bus on the outskirts of Enfield, I’m losing all of my spark’. On the album closing weeper ‘Linoleum Floor’, it is laid barer still—a keyboard-led reflection on the deflating nights out of our early-twenties.
Marcel Wave invites the listener to dance to society’s decline, and then to later weep into its lukewarm pint.

We always knew we would return to this project because Brutalism remains a profound part of our lives, something we cherish deeply. Inspired by the photographs we have been capturing for a new book, the music emerged effortlessly. Documenting these buildings feels instinctive; this is where we belong.

Our unwavering fixation on symmetry, synchronisation, and repetition endures, but this time we believe the music reveals a more emotional depth. That is the direction we have been moving towards. Some things simply take time, yet this album seemed to take shape of its own accord.

Join us as we walk through these modern day cathedrals, monuments to the people.

This is not the end of a dark alleyway in some US city, this is not the bottom of a platform heel in England, this is not the back corner of some dusty drawer at a record fair in Holland. These are not the places you’ll find rock and roll. This is Quebec: A different sensory perception of rock and roll. A heightened awareness of the highest highs and the lowest lows. This is Belgium with snowmobiles, Catholic Texas, Ugly France. All the crumbling highways, the coldest beers, and the loudest joints. Guitars do different things in Quebec. PUFFER shimmy across the invisible barricade between Montreal and the rest of the world not just as another crop of punks but as the great descendants and inheritors of modern greats like INEPSY’s “Rock and Roll Babylon” and ANNIHILATION TIME's “II.” Loud, brash, unrelenting. You’ll go deaf before you get bored of it.
Self produced, self recorded, and mixed by the band, this is the vanguard of punk that has lived long beyond it’s moments of origin. This pure blast of 1979 by way of the hellish weimar end-times of 2025 never made the necessity of punk rock feel so real.
FFO SLAUGHTER AND THE DOGS, the 222s, THE DISCORDS, MOTORHEAD, INEPSY, AA Restaurant, Montreal pool room, Katacombes, and the eternal flame of punk in La Belle Provence.

Gavin Vanaelst runs the space Aboli Bibelot in Antwerp where exhibitions and musical performances can happen side to side with dealings in centuries-old furniture and unique pieces of folk art or volkskunst. Gavin makes music under the aliases DJ Charme, Kassett and So Sorry. This is the first album under his birth name. Takeaway Loops cycles back to the days when Gavin was working as a courier for .

is a food delivery company. Their couriers - ehm, brand ambassadors, as the company prefers to call them - dressed in bright orange, they race their bikes around the city. They deliver meals and groceries for all sorts. Thanks to them, the privileged can stay tucked in their private spaces. Interaction between the two groups - the privileged and the brand ambassadors - is mostly kept to the bare minimum. And sparse communications are often driven by annoyances - “my Coke is warm because you kept it too close to the French Fries.” And on the streets the general public dis-approaches the brand ambassadors with pity. We tell our peers: “That’s not a good job,” and “stay away from the Sharing Economy.” Because, you know, in our capitalistic dollhouse we all stand our grounds and play our parts wholeheartedly.

During his shifts for , Gavin recorded location sounds on his phone at fast food restaurants while waiting on the orders he had to pick up and deliver. Later in his home studio Gavin added piano and electronics to this source material. The result: a gloomy soundtrack for a shadow world. Seven songs in evening blue with a bright orange glare.

A few years ago, our favorite Belgian publishing house Het Balanseer released Seizoenarbeid by Heike Geissler (available in English trough Semiotext(e)). Geissler writes about her job at Amazon in Leipzig. Because her writing and freelance work did not pay the bills any longer, she was forced towards this underprivileged shadow-world of unwanted jobs. Seizoenarbeid shed a light on freedom in an unfree world. A monument of ‘we are all in this, but not together’. Takeaway Loops gives us a similar peak in a world that is at the same time so visible, but then also very veiled for many. A world that we prefer to use, yet that most of us prefer not to see - a world that we don’t like to enter.

Last year at Harbourland subway station in Kobe i was mesmerized by its sound design, created by Hiroshi Yoshimura. For each part of the subway station he composed a short phrase. While walking trough the station, a full composition grows in your head. The looping melodies guide you trough a microworld. Trough a blue world of commuters, of the homeless, of the lonely, of the fast paced, of the tourist. Gavin creates a similar effect with Takeaway Loops. The tonality somehow corresponds to Yoshimura’s work. Yet instead of being guided trough a building, we are now taken to the after dark. You feel the concrete evening heat of the city. You hear the rain. Stiff fingers during cold winters’ nights. You are alone on the bike, cruising. Your maps app telling you where to go. You just left the fake leather bench of the well-lit pastiche interior of a fast food restaurant.

Next order, number ECN44! Please wait outside, sir?

WE ARE WINTER'S BLUE AND RADIANT CHILDREN (WAWBARC) is the new quartet of Mat Ball (BIG|BRAVE), Efrim Manuel Menuck (Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Thee Silver Mt. Zion), and Jonathan Downs and Patch (both Ada). On "NO MORE APOCALYPSE FATHER" they present six modal lullabies drenched in seared distortion, slathered across striding electronic pulses. Ball and Menuck began creating music in and for the bleakest moments of Montréal winters: "We're honoring that idea of winter, when you come inside and your house is warm, a place that only exists because of how cold it is outside," says Menuck. They later recruited Downs and Patch to flesh out their initial ideas. Menuck met them in 2015 when recording Ada's final album at Montréal's Hotel2Tango _ where they reconvened to make this record. "NO MORE APOCALYPSE FATHER" is an album about witnessing bleakness from a place of safety. Carrying newfound descriptive depth, thanks to the quartet's open-ended songs freeing him from writing in meter, Menuck likens his lyrics to photorealism. On opener `Rats and Roses' he sings of an unnamed city struck by an unknown cataclysm, but the details are local: specifically, his neighbors inadvertently poisoning birds when tackling a rat infestation. It's backed by blown out synths and guitars reaching a soaring crescendo. "Seeing things from a distance and not being able to intervene happens a lot on the record," Menuck explains. "If you're a feeling and thinking person, that's just part of the human condition. We watch horror unfolding from afar, unable to do anything concrete to change it." A powerless witness, able to describe but not intervene. `Dangling Blanket From A Balcony (White Phosphorous)' references Michael Jackson holding his child over a hotel balcony in 2002_the bizarre media spectacle still lodged in Menuck's psyche. This and the album's closing track also elegize white phosphorous, a technology of war designed to light up battlefields but capable of inflicting horrific burns on those it touches. Illumination and horror in one, here underpinning scenes picturesque and terrifying. "The last song `(Goodnight) White Phosphorous' is deliberately like a lullaby," says Menuck. "Written from the viewpoint of watching white phosphorous falling outside your window." Scorched and tarnished and laden with harrowing imagery, "NO MORE APOCALYPSE FATHER" is also a record bathed in light: the bewilderment of hopeful spirits witnessing despair, watching a blizzard of distress unfold outside from a place of relative shelter and comfort. You could call that emotional ambivalence, maybe numbness. But those words are too passive for the weight of conflicted feeling resonating through the album. "I never know how I feel on an overcast day when the sun is still bright despite the grayness and the light is very flat. The colours become more saturated, and you see a single flower, say a morning glory, whose colour is so vibrant beneath the gray, I don't know if that's a lovely sensation or a terrible sensation. It's both," says Menuck.

Flora Yin Wong’s ravishing interiority finds lucid expression on an absorbing second album for Modern Love, manifesting her instrumental storytelling in a syncretic bind of supernatural themes with hyperrealist, concrète sound design.

Through ten parts, Flora crystallises the ennui that followed an uncanny, disorienting trip to East and Southeast Asia. “On an unexpected stopover in Hong Kong after five years away, my friends took me to a Bazi reader one night - something I was curious about, but much of a ritual for them - ” Flora recalls. “My father told me that when I was born, he had obtained an auspicious reading that since stayed like a guiding talisman with me. It was almost past midnight but people were still lined up, rather shaken and visibly upset, to see the old man. He had kind eyes and asked me why I was there and I said I was at a crossroads. He asked me my time and date of birth, and told me to pick one of his four little white canary birds as a vessel for divination.”

This was the final stretch of an ultimately aimless few months across the continent, including a 20 year overdue return with her father to his adoptive family in his hometown Kuala Lumpur - for many reasons, ended up as a strange and uncanny trip. She spent solitude in a haunted house during the quiet snowfall of Kyoto, where she might have offended some spirit... and nights in mountain temples with South Korean monks, and an equally strange feeling return to the Island of the Gods.

“It culminated in what felt like a final disillusionment with Asia - sudden deaths and a breakdown in beliefs - somewhere I never really have or will be able to connect with. The process of the reading summoned a final blow to my gut - an overwhelming sense of rootlessness, and understanding that all there is is emptiness and entropy. No birth-divined protection, just a measurement of the night sky based off nothing and everything.”

Heavy with a sense of nightmarish dissociation and grief, Flora read about Giuseppe Tartini’s ‘Violin Sonata in G Minor’, aka the Devil’s Trill Sonata, a notoriously tricky c.18th composition which attempted to transcribe music heard in a dream, which the composer felt he could never fully bring into reality. It’s this soporific motif that binds and underpins ’Cold Reading’, finding Flora chasing the dragon of fleeting fantasy through passages of etched melancholy, pinched with hypnagogic jerks that linger in the memory.

From her use of the ‘Devil’s Trill’ Sonata in ‘All My Dreams are Nightmares’ through evocations of subtropical humidity in the Bryn Jones-esque, resonant hand-played percussion of ‘Konna’ and ‘Banjar’, to a breathtaking dreampop denouement ‘Nectar Dripping’ and the Enya-like lush of ‘Beautiful Crisis’, Flora blooms her ideas with an openended ambiguity so often missing from so called Ambient music, ushering the listener into a soundworld that disturbs and displaces, just as much as it calms.

When picturing the German techno scene, one likely imagines the concrete monoliths of its capital city Berlin rather than the vineyards and valleys of the enchanting city of Stuttgart in the southwest. But small cities lack the oversaturation and noise of the metropolis, allowing them to develop their own inspired and distinctive subcultural visions. Stuttgart’s David Löhlein exemplifies this potential, manifesting a singular style of sight and sound through his Vision Ektase project and residency at Lehmann Club. Now, Löhlein’s warm-blooded techno is slinking, slithering and seducing its way through BNR, with the upcoming Hotel Pool EP release.

There’s no hesitation before plunging into the EP’s titular track, with its rushing fingered basslines and rolling polyrhythms. Löhlein cites solo travels in Columbia as the source of his Latin influences, and one hears them throughout “Hotel Pool” in vocal and percussive samples. Elements more commonly found in Latin and tribal house feel uncommonly fresh once Löhlein recontextualizes them within a 144 bpm techno foundation. The words “groovy” and “sexy” are usually reserved for the stuff of Buddha Bar compilations, but “Hotel Pool” is exhilarating because it serves both of the former and none of the latter.

A stream of hedonism flows beneath all of the four-tracker, but if the opener is erotic, A2 “La Piscina” is psychedelic. The bass flutters like a mescaline come-up, as infinite loops of chattering voices and deep bamboo pipe notes mesmerize. Again, Löhlein takes certain genre tropes - in this case from psytrance - and transposes them through his own stylistic signature with thrilling results. Ask Löhlein if he likes psytrance and the answer might be “Yes, when it’s techno.”

Leading the flip, “Cuando Vengas” heats up around a dark and sticky loop of ambiguous, organic origin. Here Löhlein’s masterful sample and drum programming is clearly on display, with vocal chops and subtle rhythmic variations leading the dancefloor to shivering bliss. The EP closes with “I Just Want,” a sparse, cold, and bitcrushed stalker of a track that seems to answer Baudrillard’s famed question “What are you doing after the orgy?” That the Hotel Pool EP’s wild romp ends in the Berlin oeuvre perhaps proves the city’s primacy in the German techno scene, but after a few listens one begins to wonder what rare pleasures they’ve been missing in David Löhlein’s Stuttgart.

Official reissue of Civilistjävel!'s first, self-titled archival LP in sky-blue embossed sleeve, 500 copies.

A minor masterpiece of high-lonesome, ultra-spacey existential electronics, recorded in the ‘90s and early 2000s, the music on this album had never been heard outside the Swedish artist’s private tape/CD-R trading networks until 2018 - when London’s Low Company presented it in a hand-assembled vinyl edition of 250 with scant context or biographical info. Some people understandably thought the project might be a ruse - was it really plausible that material this accomplished and affecting had fallen under the radar for 20-odd years? Implausible, perhaps, but true nonetheless. Five years on we know that Civilistjävel is indeed the real deal: the alter ego of a discreet but by no means reclusive solo artist based in Uppsala who has for decades been quietly honing his craft without worrying about who's listening. Since 2019 he has become more visible: performing live several times in and around Europe, and last year releasing a brand new studio album, Järnnätter, on Felt Records. Meanwhile Low Company has put out four subsequent, vinyl-only volumes of archival material. These have increasingly tended towards the more rhythmic/techno-oriented impulse in Civilistjävel, so it’s interesting to return now to Volume 1: comprised of the most introspective and isolationist of his works, tapping into deep wells of northern European melancholy. It’s a music made with no audience in mind, but simply to suit itself: cold-world kosmische, intimate minimal synth etudes, bowled percussion clusters and impossibly yearning, 30-days-of-night ambient dronescapes. Created mostly using a Juno60 and Korg MS20, and home-recorded to DAT (crackles and surface-noise preserved intact), you can hear in these seven expansive instrumentals unconscious echoes of Serge Bulot and Anna SjalveTreje’s crepuscular dream-sequences, Scandinavian black metal's mist-cloaked forest-fantasies, the austere dub-techno of Thomas Köner and Basic Channel, and the gristly, consumptive concrète of Nurse With Wound and Asmus Tietchens.

Nada is Bérurier Noir's first 45t EP, released in 1983, originally on vinyl, shared with the band Guernica. 6 punk-psychiatric, aggressive and cold tracks. All in a black and white sleeve, with a terribly disturbing illustration signed by François (singer).

"A delirious rhythm box, relentless guitars, impeccable lyrics, voices from hell, all in a sordid and unhealthy climate, puking as you wish. They walk in the forest, for sure, but their forest is made of concrete, psychiatric hospitals and torture rooms. They're getting uglier and uglier, it's true, but their ugliness is like their music, cold, dark and totally derisory. At last, a dirty record in which one can wallow with pleasure.

In Cauda Venenum n°7 - 1983



The band's name alone evokes the epic of alternative rock: rebellious and committed.

Born by mistake on a February evening in 1983, Bérurier Noir soon found itself the driving force behind a vast "Youth Movement", determined to take control of its life in the face of a society that was ultra conservative at the time. Times have hardly changed.

From the first self-produced records distributed by hand to the creation of self-managed labels, from concerts in squats and wild appearances in demonstrations, on the street or in the metro to endless tours, from interviews given to fanzines and free radio stations to unclassifiable appearances in the mainstream media, Bérurier Noir has waged the most exciting war of independence in the history of French rock, with only a microphone, a guitar, a drum machine, a few red noses and patched-up theatre masks.

The last finger of honour of this turbulent and irrecoverable raia, François, Loran and their "Troupeau d'Rock" commit hara-kiri, at the peak of their glory, during three last concerts in the heart of Paris in November 1989.

Forty years after its birth, Bérurier Noir's work still resonates, whether in demonstrations or free parties, nourishing the hopes of those who wish to overthrow this world to build a truly libertarian, united and fraternal society.

The label Archives de la Zone Mondiale reminds those who missed this unprecedented adventure, 8 discographic parts of the group Bérurier Noir in the form of reissues on particularly original colour vinyls (crown finish), in a limited series and distributed throughout the year.

XAM Duo – the Yorkshire-based pairing of Matthew Benn and Christopher Duffin – follow-up their The A-side features a reworking of the album’s closing track, ‘Cold Stones’, by legendary electronic artist and DJ, James Holden. In one of his first remixes for a number of years, he has taken the original’s calming, comedown energy and transformed it into an epic, 11-and-a-half-minute journey, which somewhere around the five-minute mark comes right back up. “It didn't turn out quite how I expected, but as they say the sculpture is already in the stone, we just have to find it,” says Holden. “It's like the most rave thing I’ve done for ages and also not rave at all, like a blurry dream about a rave?” Whatever it is, it’s incredible, as are the two further reworkings on the B-side. The Early Years resurface after another lengthy hiatus and reframe ‘LGOC’ as a divine astral jazz / krautrock crossover, while Richard Pike (of PVT and Deep Learning, among others) turns ‘Blue Comet’ into a glitchy and discordant soundtrack to the best 1980s computer game you never played. “It’s lovely to hear three different interpretations of songs that we already tend to keep quite loose and elastic,“ says Matthew Benn. “These remixes feel like a natural extension of the music on the album, like they're from the same world, but perhaps in a different language.” Praise for XAM Duo II: “Thirty minutes of top-quality retro techno ambience and high-tech jazz” – MOJO “An elegant swirl of MIDI exotica, digital wind chimes and health-spa tones... threading saxophone through Boards Of Canada-style funk” – Uncut “Simultaneously more eclectic and more concise, the album expands, refines and folds down the twosome’s electro-organic explorations” – Concrete Islands “XAM Duo’s layered electronics pivot between the meditative and the assertive” – Clash “Made up of sweet synths, precise beats and some piano and sax, they create an atmosphere that feels as if it’s designed to accompany times of concentration and calm” – Loud And Quiet A1 - Cold Stones (James Holden Remix) B1 - LGOC (The Early Years Remix)
B2 - Blue Comet (Richard Pike Remix)

Mures are Joshua Cordova and Santiago Leyba. They fit perfectly as MRT010, transporting the label from the cold, grey, drowned in concrete atmospheres of Acid Ernst to the working class heat of the American south. Electronic body music, factory music, machines intensify their rhythm as degrees rise. Hot iron is forged, sweat and black stains cover bodies, hard labor, the struggle and the hammers, tools for modern times restraint. Rare Metal and Workers have just paved the way to that bullet that is Trains of Thought.

repressed !

Emotional Rescue celebrates a decade of reissues by again pulling deep from the well with the first of several French avant albums over the coming year. The self-styled "Ethno-Industrial" Vox Populi! present their 1989 Aither album, remastered and repackaged with love nearly 30 years later.

Initiated by artist Axel Kyrou in 1982, Vox Populi! was soon joined by long term collaborator Pacific 231 on a series of coldwave/industrial cassette only recordings. Things changed considerably, however, with the meeting of the siblings, Mitra and Arach in 1984.

The consequential use of "traditional" instruments and, especially, his wife Mitra's Persian folklore vocals gave a specific tonality, incorporating the band's expanding passion for oriental sounds, electronics and psychedelic music.

Involving numerous musicians and friends in often-spontaneous studio sessions, the melting pot of varied cultural backgrounds added ethnic, electronic, concrete music, funk, dub and experimental flavours.

This feeling of the subjective absence of the artist was achieved via a communal way for making music, but still with an aim to entertain while leading the listener to experience something unique - mind elevating, non-egotistical, ethereal music - all pushing the intellect towards a more artistic transparency.

Welcome to Aither.

Very much at the forefront of the UK electronic scene, since 2001, Shelley Parker has innovated and thrilled with live performances, DJ sets, sound installations, and scores for contemporary dance.

Parker's recorded output is just a small part of her musical orbit. That said, a debut album 'Spurn Point' in 2014 and various singles, remixes and EPs for Hessle Audio, One Little Indie, Honest Jon's, Houndstooth, Structure Recordings and OOH-sounds have whet the appetite for more.

'Wisteria' lands on Hypercolour, and succinctly encapsulates Parker's layered and dense production aesthetic, as a myriad of concrete rhythms, breakbeat science, inner city ambience and industrial strength bass unfurl over eight uncompromising compositions.

‘Wisteria’ by Shelley Parker is available on 2LP/Digital from 25th March 2022 on Hypercolour.

This is Lost Soul Enterprises big 15th release on wax, a tidy compilation of off-kilter dance floor cuts and misfit synthpunk anthems.

Side A commences with the gothic, neon-soaked Miami bass of ALONZO's "Cruising with Pap," featuring sinister verses delivered by a shadowy syrupsipping secret guest vocalist. Up next is bucking bronco NICK KLEIN's slow-mo industrial headbanger "Posture Test. The sonic equivalent of a sweat-soaked concrete floor, it lurches along at its own mechanical pace amid the metallic hiss and howl. Lastly, wild synth lines and ethereal dubbed-out samples dart in and out over a tough, punchy rhythmic foundation in NAEEM's "TLX," an android's sci-fi electro vision gone haywire.

On the B side, HEIDI SABERTOOTH's "Was It You" launches us deep into chugging acidic territory, combining enigmatic spoken vocals and a psychedelic, slowly evolving SH-101 line over a persuasive groove. Like a slap in the face after that comes raucous synth-punk powerhouse SSPS with "Paradise Lozt," raw as fuck, chanting a litany of dystopian tales atop pumping drums and a wash of demented organ-like synth stabs. Finally we close with the short but powerful "New Vape City" by the nomadic DOUCE ANGOISSE - an absolute earworm, a doleful coldwave ballad whose lush production plays perfect counterpoint to the icy, deadpan sentiments within.

Underground coldwave duo The KVB are back
with their most potent and immediate record yet.
Produced and mixed by Andy Savours (Black
Country New Road, My Bloody Valentine, The
Horrors), ‘Unity’ represents an exciting
development in the band’s sonic journey.
 Across the album’s ten songs, The KVB
masterfully pull together their trademark
components; radiant guitars, textural synths and
an ear for a moody, brooding melody all presented
here with a renewed dynamism.
 Throughout the album, lyrical themes combine
double meanings and a sleight of hand is present;
Le Corbousier’s brutalist ‘Unité d’habitation’
informs the title track and via the French-to-English
translation ‘Unité’ becomes ‘Unity’ - a rallying cry to
totality on the dancefloor. ‘Unbound’ is informed by
the classic shoegaze stylings of Slowdive and Ride
but also late-modern poet Keston Sutherland and
the idea of recreating a special moment lost to the
past.
 Black vinyl, housed in a deluxe spined sleeve with
the vinyl itself housed in a double sided printed
inner sleeve. Comes with digital download card
included

Composed by the Capcom Sound Team, Masami Ueda, Makoto Tomozawa and Akira Kaida, Resident Evil’s brooding score became a benchmark for horror games, giving the original genre-defining masterpiece a persistent and unnerving sense of claustrophobia.

Each soundtrack has been remastered specifically for this release and will be pressed onto audiophile heavyweight, deluxe double-vinyl 180g LPs on black vinyl.

Around the year, the sturdy red brick walls of an old Cable Factory stand there like a mountain, facing weathers of all kinds rising from the Gulf of Finland. It might be freezing winter winds whipping the whole shore line into submission, fog heavy as concrete, or the relentless sun of the summer months, softening the asphalt to a boiling point. Whatever the weather may be, the narrow courtyard of the old factory embraces those musicians, who are looking to get down. They gather from all directions, making their way towards a pair of doors that lead towards a flight of stairs, again through a few doors all the way to the last portal, where an open padlock and a loosely hangin crossbar signal that Cold Diamond & Mink are inside, locked in a groove.

Who could it be with them this time, perhaps the jazz prophet Jimi Tenor beaming out of his space ship, maybe it's the golden voiced knight of soul Tuomo "Pratt" Prättälä, the number one trumpet wielding dandy Jukka Eskola or the saxman Pope Puolitaival, who loses nothing in coolness compared to the former? The reel to reel is always there in the monitoring room, catching each analog layer of sound, even the silences and banter between takes. Seppo lays down the guitar and tries to catch the riff on organ instead, Jukka throws a rare tune on the turntable, hoping to guide their unit through that wobbly chorus, Sami waits there bass in hand, maybe already thinking about the next production.

After a whole lot of playing instruments, arranging and taking care of business, after the moon has travelled around the old industrial building for some rotations, Carlton Jumel Smith comes waltzing through those same doors. There's a handful of unnamed tracks waiting for him. He sits there listening and then starts writing, maybe echoes of soul classics from his own record collection in New York projecting inside his mind. Then the tape is rolling again. Starting with a short intro rap Carlton lets it out, singing on the edge of shouting "Woman you made me...". After the vocals are in the can, Carlton ascends out of the basement and heads out to entertain an audience somewhere. Some months later, after the mix is said and done, there's the question of the instrumentals. It seems they're pretty good as they are. And here they are.




d 04: Help Me (Save Me From Myself) Instrumental

Before there was Rimarimba, Suffolk-born, Felixstowe-based musician and home recording enthusiast Robert Cox assembled a cast of friends, some musicians and some not so much, for an experiment in group exploration and ecstatic expression under the name The Same. Sonically and gravitationally defined by Cox's collaboration with guitarist Andy Thomas (a partnership which formed in 1976 to record as General Motors), Sync or Swim, The Same's one and only album, also featured keyboards by Florence Atkinson and Paul Ridout, and vocals by Robert's sister Rebecca. Originally released in small cassette and vinyl quantities on Unlikely Records, Cox's imprint and a meeting point for many other musicians found at the fringe, the back cover of the original album jacket is as much a map of the personnel, place, and process fundamental to Sync or Swim as it is a table of contents for DIY music-making at the beginning of the 80s: "Recorded in peaceful Wiltshire between September 18th and October 6th 1981 (using a miscellany of home made devices) onto a Teac A-3300SX via a Teac A-3440. No noise reduction systems were used." Cox's own definition of British psychedelia is "folk music meeting technology and going bonkers." It's by this definition that Sync or Swim takes unexpected forms, from tape-speed tomfoolery, concrète sound collage and analog delayed marimbas, to the colorful spectrum of interwoven guitar play between Cox and Thomas reminiscent of Ghanaian Highlife but more accurately indebted to Jerry Garcia. On the album's culminating final track, "E Scapes," all of these elements are brought together in twenty-minute journey through layers of chiming guitar loops and spritely solos, keyed percussion, and tape experiments, all played as though the sun were rising over the standing stones of Salisbury Plain. Cox would later go to similarly greath lengths with certain solo sound endeavors, but the confluence of musicians on "E Scapes" pushes the piece to exceptional, unforgettable heights. Transferred and remastered from the original tapes, The Same's Sync or Swim arrives on LP July 16th, 2021 on Freedom To Spend, just in time for the album's 40th anniversary.

Eine neu überarbeitete ”Island Years”-Auflage des klassischen Bob-Marley-Boxsets, zum ersten Mal auch auf Vinyl. Mit Marleys vielen Klassikern von ”Concrete Jungle” über ”Redemption Song” bis hin zu seltenen 12”-Mixen, B-Seiten, jamaikanischen Singles und Alternates. ”Songs Of Freedom: The Island Years” erscheint als 6LP-Set.

Das 6LP-Set auf schwarzem Standard-Vinyl (180 g) enthält ein 20-seitiges Booklet mit seltenen Fotos,
mehreren Essays und Titelinformationen.

Hot on the heels of our tentacular project "The Most Famous Unknown", Planet Phuture is proud to welcome rising French talent Cuften to the fold. A most fitting match for PP's phuture-facing vision, Damien Peltier has been pushing some of the finest techno around over the last couple of years, landing a handful memorable cuts via the likes of Parisian label Tripalium and his own imprint, Purusu. Cloaked in dim-lit atmospheres and open-ended post-apocalyptic narratives, his debut solo 12" blends in all of the elements that made his sound stand out from the crowd of releases coming up these days - traversed by dogged primitive rhythms and reassessed 303-infused Detroit'isms, but also stamped with his signature no-frills rave elegance.

Speeding up the cosmic highway like Deckard roams San Fran's neon-splattered alleys on the hunt for replicants, Cuften takes us on a full-immersion journey into dystopian electronic soundscapes. Full-beam on, "Solar Ashes" has us drifting amidst ruins of a devastated city - its lysergic bass languidly threading its way across brutalist concrete facades and cold ember set for reignition. A more martial affair, "The Black Rain Order" pulls out the rattling drums, slo-boiling arpeggios and moebius-strips of wistful acid to score a supremely tense crescendo, both optimally tasted on and off the dance floor.

Moving up closer to the free-spirited vibe of the '90s open-air raves, "Rise Of The Neo-Humans" unleashes a baroque firestorm of sucker-punchy toms and hyperventilating shuffle, woven against an endlessly expanding corolla of hallucinogenic shapes and fluttering harmonics. Sinking further deep into all-dark dubby grounds, "Lasttt Batttle" extrudes its obsessive melody out a thick gangue of squelchy chords and bleepin' engineering to form the kind of brain-washing hybrid pumper that'll roast your last remaining neurones. Trouble-brewing isn't over though and the droney "Kjhfskjoize" shall take you to places unknown through eleven minutes of envelope-shifting shamanism, thinking noise bake-off and gravity-defying arrangements. Bend your mind.

Libreville Records is proud to present a focus on legendary electronic swiss project Mega Wave Orchestra in the form of a compilation LP including unreleased material.Originally released privately in Geneva in 1988 as a box set containing five LPs by The Mega Wave Orchestra and five prints by the artist H. Richard Reimann. The Mega Wave Orchestra, the brain-child of musician, mathematician and composer Christian Oestreicher, was conceived as an multi-media electronic music big-band. It was comprised of seven multi-instrumentalists Christine Schaller, Vincent Barras, Jacques Demierre, Olivier Rogg, Rainer Boesch, Roger Baudet, and Benoit Corboz, with Oestreicher as arranger and producer.The Mega Wave Orchestra created a new hybrid music. It was a music with roots in the jazz and classical traditions, but one which also drew on the sonic freedom of musique concrete and the kind of total experience offered by psychedelia. The diverse backgrounds and specialisms of each of the band leaders/writers resulted in a wide variety of music across the five discs: from austere drones and granular aural detail to warm oddball fusion and gorgeous but cracked vocal jazz. There are useful contemporary comparisons to be made: zoned synth jazz like the Azimuth LP on ECM or Karin Krog’s Freestyle; Larry Heard’s sequencer dreamtime; the Valium minimalism of Pep Llopis or Jun Fukamaki; Dexter Wansel’s shimmering arrangements for Loose Ends, or even the FM sheen meets cold war threat of Donald Fagen’s Night Fly. Here, too, is the sound of music technology about to snowball and define its own aesthetic, unknowingly prefiguring auteurish bedroom producers like Black Dog or The Detroit Escalator Company.Lovely crafted tip-on sleeve. Remastered from Master tapes. 600 copies.

Around the year, the sturdy red brick walls of an old Cable Factory stand there like a mountain, facing weathers of all kinds rising from the Gulf of Finland. It might be freezing winter winds whipping the whole shore line into submission, fog heavy as concrete, or the relentless sun of the summer months, softening the asphalt to a boiling point. Whatever the weather may be, the narrow courtyard of the old factory embraces those musicians, who are looking to get down. They gather from all directions, making their way towards a pair of doors that lead towards a flight of stairs, again through a few doors all the way to the last portal, where an open padlock and a loosely hangin crossbar signal that Cold Diamond & Mink are inside, locked in a groove.

Who could it be with them this time, perhaps the jazz prophet Jimi Tenor beaming out of his space ship, maybe it's the golden voiced knight of soul Tuomo "Pratt" Prättälä, the number one trumpet wielding dandy Jukka Eskola or the saxman Pope Puolitaival, who loses nothing in coolness compared to the former? The reel to reel is always there in the monitoring room, catching each analog layer of sound, even the silences and banter between takes. Seppo lays down the guitar and tries to catch the riff on organ instead, Jukka throws a rare tune on the turntable, hoping to guide their unit through that wobbly chorus, Sami waits there bass in hand, maybe already thinking about the next production.

After a whole lot of playing instruments, arranging and taking care of business, after the moon has travelled around the old industrial building for some rotations, Carlton Jumel Smith comes waltzing through those same doors. There's a handful of unnamed tracks waiting for him. He sits there listening and then starts writing, maybe echoes of soul classics from his own record collection in New York projecting inside his mind. Then the tape is rolling again. Starting with a short intro rap Carlton lets it out, singing on the edge of shouting "Woman you made me...". After the vocals are in the can, Carlton ascends out of the basement and heads out to entertain an audience somewhere. Some months later, after the mix is said and done, there's the question of the instrumentals. It seems they're pretty good as they are. And here they are.




d 4 Help Me (Save Me From Myself) [Instrumental]

'When you put on the first track on the album 'Antisocial Background 2017 - 2019 by Mythologen your likely to think: 'this is THAT kind of an album', and fell happy with that. But Mythologen aka Alexander Palmestal is not 'THAT' kind of an artist and this album reflects his broad musical background. It spans from Japan to USA, from the 70s to the 00s and from cold concrete floors to fluffy cotton clouds. Palmestal, with a background in bands such as Pistol Disco and Iberia now releases his second full-length album on Hoga Nord Rekords

The album is a play with emotions and genres, with unexpected meetings between major and minor keys and is a collection of tracks where Jungle, Electro, House, Synth and Big Beat are deconstructed and put together as relevant contemporary dance music. The production on 'Antisocial background' sometimes sound like a more electronic version of Boredoms but most of the time it puts the listener on the British isles and in the 90's. Palmestal pays respect to his masters but he is not in any way too careful with their legacy and let, just as on his debut album, influences from the 1970's and 80's Nigeria and Soweto.'

Born Marian Himburg, Causa has been on the rise for several years now, with a tight and impressive discography on labels including Crucial Recordings, Infernal Sounds, and J:Kenzo's Artikal Music UK. Known for carefully focused cuts that marry dub sensibilities with dubstep weight, his debut for ZamZam is exactly what you'd hope: heavy 140 wares for deep dances.

'Space Dub' is an orbiting station of decaying delays and insistent bleeps that resolve into an absolutely massive riddim that causes pure murderation on the floor. Machine sounds and lasers spar over dread, lurching bass, while thick snares cut through the reverb haze to reveal the cold, starry cosmos beyond.
'Concrete Dub' works with a similarly industrial sound palette in the service of a minimalist, skanking steppers that drives hard into the heart of sound system. Disembodied voices, growling-deep horn stabs, a single piercing flute note, and a myriad of other sonic signifiers emerge and retreat, as if being pulled under by the unrelenting force of the primordial sub & kick attack. You've been warned!

Jac Berrocal, David Fenech and Vincent Epplay return with Ice Exposure, their second album for Blackest Ever Black. A sequel and companion piece of sorts to 2015's Antigravity, its title couldn't be more apt: sonically it is both colder, and more exposed - in the sense of rawer, more volatile, more vulnerable - than its predecessor, capturing the combustible energy and barely suppressed violence of the trio's celebrated live performances with aspects of noir jazz, musique concrète, no wave art-rock, sound poetry and spectral electronics all interpenetrating in unpredictable and exhilarating ways. While there are moments of great sensitivity and even a cautious romanticism, the prevailing mood is one of anxiety, paranoia, and mounting psychodrama: close your eyes and Ice Exposure feels like a dissociative Hörspiel broadcasting from the seedy backstreets of your own troubled mind. Before he picks up an instrument or opens his mouth, Berrocal's unique and compelling presence can be felt: a combination of studied, glacial cool and anarchic, in-the-moment intensity that has served him well over a long and storied career. It was honed during his time as a theatre and film actor, and in the 70s Paris improv scene, it powered his influential Catalogue group in the 1970s, numerous seminal, sui generis solo sides, and far-sighted collaborations with the likes of Nurse With Wound, Lol Coxhill, Pascal Comelade and James Chance which have seen him come to be valorised by two generations of avant-garde agitators and eccentrics. Now in his eighth decade, it comes with an added gravitas, perhaps, but no less energy or vitality. On Ice Exposure, his lyrical, instantly recognisable trumpet playing is a key feature - see especially the ghostly, dubwise take on Ornette's 'Lonely Woman', the dissolute exotica of 'Salta Girls', and the sublime echo-chamber soliloquy 'Opportunity'. But more often it's his voice that commands centre-stage, whether casually discharging surreal poetic monologues or moaning in animal despair - a vocal tour de force that transcends language and culminates in the Dionysian frenzy of 'Why', Berrocal's half-spoken, half-howled exclamations jostling with David Fenech's slashes of dissonant guitar, over Badalamenti-ish, panther-stalk drums. Fenech's origins are in the mail-art scene of the early '90s, when he led the Peu Importe collective in Grenoble, and since then, in addition to his own recordings he has worked as a software developer at IRCAM and played with Jad Fair, Rhys Chatham and many others. Together with Vincent Epplay he is responsible for Ice Exposure's inspired arrangements and vivid, vertiginous sound design. Epplay is a visual artist and composer with particular interest in aleatory composition, concrete, and the reappropriation of vintage sound and film material. He and Fenech fashion a remarkable mise-en-scene for Berrocal to inhabit, one that embraces cutting-edge electronics while also paying homage to the best traditions of outlaw jazz and libidinous rock'n'roll ('Soundcheck' invokes the brutish spirit of Berrocal's hero Vince 'Rock N Roll Station' Taylor). On 'Blanche de Blanc', Berrocal's voice is framed by a groaning, ghoulish orchestra of industrial drones, while 'Equivoque' evokes the most humid and hostile Fourth World landscapes and 'Panic In Surabaya' lives up to its name, a hectic, pulse-quickening concrète collage that leaves you gasping for air. This is a searching and singular trio operating at the absolute peak of their powers, with an interplay that transcends studio and stage and occurs at an almost telepathic level. Ice Exposure is a triumph of that group mind, an underworld dérive as life-affirming as it is unnerving and psychologically precarious.













Panic In Surabaya

Les Disques du Crepuscule present an extended double disc reissue of Shiver, the acclaimed debut album by seminal Swedish artist  Virna Lindt, originally released by The Compact Organization in 1983.

Written and produced by Virna Lindt and Tot Taylor, Shiver offers 12 slices of chic orchestrated pop informed by 'foreign film' soundtracks, movie composers John Barry and Ennio Morricone, Modernist musique concrete and Cold War spy thrillers. The album spawned three singles: Attention Stockholm, Intelligence and I Experienced Love. For the most part Lindt provides the voiceover for her own narratives, occasionally striking reflective poses amid orchestral swells and multi-layered atmospherics; a clear influence on later acts such as Pulp, St Etienne and Air.

This new edition of Shiver showcases acoustically-enhanced mixes prepared by Taylor and Lindt in 1997, augmented with non-album singles Model Agent and Young & Hip, and immaculate instrumental versions of key album tracks such as Underwater Boy and The Dossier on Virna Lindt. The extended tracklist also finds room for a leftfield cover of Windmills of Your Mind, originally written by Michel Legrand and Alan & Marilyn Bergman for The Thomas Crown Affair and recorded for the Crepuscule compilation album Moving Soundtracks.

Cover photography is by E.A. Janes. The 2xCD edition is housed in a 6 panel digipack with a 12 page booklet. The double vinyl set comes in a stylish gatefold sleeve and includes a free digital copy.

Praise for Shiver:  'Eurocentric Virna Lindt casts herself as a mysterious blonde in a loving pastiche of Continental movie music' (Sounds); 'I think of Shiver as Ingmar Bergman's All These Women cast as 50-odd minutes of musical dialogue. Tot Taylor's fantastic orchestrations cast a brilliant pale of modern love throughout' (Fond/Sound); 'Instead of mere cool styles, there's far more here than a restrictive stereotype' (All Music Guide);

The Estonian master of dubstep and techno Margus Löve, who has operated so far under the monikers L-OW and 1DERL&, has changed his creative direction into curvier areas and is presenting his fresh act Exit Safe Mode as a proof. Cool and ghastly darkness is still hoofing at your heels and ominous concrete thunder brings the skeletal techno to a new fertile ground. Seeming coldness is concealing a hot-blooded pulse and a stealthily transporting psychedely. A dangerously alluring adventure has begun and it's calling for an exit from the numbing comfort zone.