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Introducing Contraptions, a new sub label or Rube Goldberg Series designed to release the creations of label curator Bowyer.

From the same recording sessions as Bézier's first EP on Körperspannung records 'Negative Velocity', 'Contraption' channels a few moods and scenarios.

On the a-side 'Contraption' is an insignificant droplet darting through the sky. Soon it joins a disarray of objects positioned above the atmosphere, maneuvers in formation to reveal randomized, decentralized nodes packed for mayhem.

On the b-side Bézier shows a slice of his lived experience. Back in 2004 he used to go to house parties around East LA with friends they grew up with every weekend to listen to music. Winding through the Southern Californian roadway sprawl they'd drive 1/2 an hour to 1 hour on the I-10 (sometimes diverting to Route 60 if gridlock is expected) to get to the location, usually in a residential neighborhood. Being respectful of the communities and the struggle of the progenitors of this music, Bézier presents 'Blue Halo' as an homage to that sound with a twist: Cumbia-Synth to provide a little sauce for your ears. Dave Easlick joins the milieu to provide a percussive framework for this tune.

Lastly, 'Bit by an Electric Wire' showcases Easlick's drumming with an overlay from Bézier. As Dave rips and shreds through his drum kit the OCD machine living inside Yang's brain switches on and organizes, collates and files that dataset into a hardcore rhythm track.

Isa Gordon and Tony Morris were first brought together through their individual releases on Optimo Music, which established mutual respect within the label’s community. While they had not previously performed live together, they were invited to take part in a fundraiser hosted by Queen’s Park Arena in support of Glasgow NW Foodbank and later for JD Twitch’s end-of-life care. Tony asked Isa to contribute guitar and backing vocals to his set, including a track then called Last Night I Had a Dream. That performance became the seed for their collaboration.

The first phase of fleshing it out, recalls Tony: “Somebody said Isa sang like Shania Twain. That got me thinking about country music and call and response, prompting me to come up with alternative lyrics.” Isa remembers: “I cycled over to Tony’s house with my guitar, and we spoke about what the tune meant. It was about him being wrapped up in dreamland, luxuriating in his subconscious, while my character — impatient and trapped in her own routines — barely had time to remember her own dreams.” Tony continues: “Brilliantly I realised that I could never collaborate with anyone in situ and so I sat in the garden for two hours watching my wife tend to plants. Every now and again I would creep up the stairs and put my ear to the door. I could hear Isa warbling away and so would resume my garden watch. After two hours I went back upstairs to see how she was getting on, only to find that she had written one of the greatest songs I’d ever heard. I still think that.” Tony adds: “My overwhelming sentiment about Wake Up Baby is pride. I can honestly say that I’m more proud of it than anything else I have done. It ticks a whole load of boxes. Isa’s singing in various Scottish modes is unique. The way her electric guitar adorns the dance beat makes it a rock song as well as a dance and a C&W song — truly multi-genre.”

The B-side of the 12” release, Syringe Moustache, is a surreal, darkly playful counterpart to Wake Up Baby. The track was inspired by a dream Tony had: “I was in a shopping mall, in a two-level shoe shop, and my attention was taken by a little girl with a syringe taped beneath her nose like a moustache. She went about her business trying on shoes, confident and wise beyond her years. In the dream, I imagined her as the daughter of cultured, intelligent parents determined to raise her independently. I was struck by my own feelings of inadequacy — I knew I could never have coped with such a contraption myself.” Isa’s take on the meaning of this song somewhat differs: “Tony sent me the tune over Instagram months before I met him, and I was spooked — as far as I knew, he didn’t know anything about me, but the story felt like it was written about me as a little girl, growing up around heroin addiction. The syringe beneath the girl’s nose became a symbol of the inescapable constraints of that environment, literally written on her face, yet something you just have to carry on through. On a buzz from the serendipity, I added a full instrumental backing to this most bizarre of works.”

The result is absurd, unsettling, and strangely empowering, staking out its own surreal, cinematic space. The 12” dance single is a format Tony had long wanted to explore — a tangible artefact to leave for family, a medium that celebrates the physicality of sound and the ritual of listening. It allowed the artists to maximise the format’s potential: a strong, multi-genre A-side, a surreal B-side, and remixes that expanded the record’s sonic world. Glasgow music staples Auntie Flo and 100% Positive Feedback were invited to reinterpret the tracks, bringing their distinctive touch — Auntie Flo transforming the A-side into a luscious, dancefloor-ready meditation, and 100% Positive Feedback twisting Syringe Moustache into absurd, playful shapes with false-start drops and over-the-top vocal editing.

The cover photograph, taken at the University Café by Harrison Reid, captures Isa and Tony embodying the characters they brought to life in the songs — a visual reflection of the record’s narrative and emotional stakes. The Café also holds personal significance: it’s where all of Isa’s meetings with Keith McIvor took place, where she first remembers visiting Glasgow as a child, and a place Tony fondly likes to go to drip egg yolk down his tie and watch the world go by. Together, the 12” format, the remixes, and the artwork create a cohesive, tactile experience, amplifying the duality, theatricality, and emotional breadth of the collaboration.

To hear the quintessential synthesized sounds of "El Hombre Orquesta" aka Ricardo Suntaxi is analogous to studying the detailed schematics of your favorite electronic contraption. For the initiated, it's a peek under the proverbial hood, an invitation into the engine of a sound and color that has played a part in powering and defining a treasure trove of modern Latin American sound-system music.

Even in these most turbulent of times, dub musician and fatigued onlooker Elijah Minnelli remains an inexplicable stalwart on the lower rungs of the Breadminster County Council.

His latest record ‘Clams As A Main Meal’ continues his astute siphoning of council funds, this time with help from the Breadminster Board of Abstinence. As a further mark of respect, the original head of the Board, Dr. K'houldoux, graces the cover art in his infamous ‘Looming Moon of Desire’ guise.*

As fine a backdrop as any for Minneli’s off-brand dub experiments, and ‘Clams...’ is the truest representation of his varied wheelhouse yet...

We find vocal appearances from dub goliath Dennis Bovell and Welsh-language singer Carwyn Ellis. A pair of tracks which build on 2024’s acclaimed ‘Perpetual Musket’, a collection of folk songs reworked alongside reggae vocalists, released by FatCat Records. It garnered glowing reviews, with nods from The Guardian and The Quietus concluding with prominent appearances on their respective yearly round-up lists.

Elsewhere, the album finds Minnelli in a more experimental mode, all wheezing contraptions and cockeyed bass, creaking with the weight of creation, a satisfying tactility laid seam-side up.

As well as ‘Perpetual Musket’, the new album follows years of sold out 7" singles, handmade and self-released. Online, the tracks have amassed global streams numbering in the millions. His tracks have found play across an eclectic range of radio mixes and dance floors, most notably the likes of Andrew Weatherall, Batu, Optimo and Zakia Sewell (BBC6Music).

It is perhaps worth mentioning that this everbuilding interest in his work is at great odds with the growing suspicions amongst his fellow townsfolk, who see his Breadminster County Council Music Initiative as nothing more than an empty cash-grab.

Further Reading on the Breadminster Board of Abstinence

In the late 70s, Breadminster was awash with the last vestiges of the hippy era. Though the flared silhouette of the lower leg remained, the utopian ideals that had once flowed merrily around the youth's shaded ankles had begun to wane. LSD and free love had led to a sharp spike in population and a generation of children raised by air-headed psychonauts unprepared for the bleary-eyed strictures of parenthood.

Aware of the crisis, the County Council entrusted Dr. Paulinque K'houldoux to spearhead a pushback, and it was his pro-abstinence movement - a mixture of education initiatives and radical renutrition campaigns - that came to impact Breadminster's census deep into the new millennium.

Being a pseudo-archipelago Breadminster has fundamentally limited resources, however deep-seated ties to distant coastal villages meant that oysters were a regular part of the local diet. K'houldoux pinpointed this as a factor in the town's overpopulation, and believed that simply replacing these with clams (a “lesser mollusk”) would help lower the erotic urges of the people. It was his “anti-aphrodesia” movement that first championed the idea of “Clams As A Main Meal,” and the slogan “Consider Abstinence” carried the message yet further.

The Breadminster Board of Abstinence soon became involved in all cultural happenings in the area, with K'houldoux MCing at prominent festivals and performances, sometimes dressed as the “Looming Moon of Desire” - an idea of his relating to the tide, seafood, menstrual cycles, and his privately held celestial predilections.

It was in 1981 that it was revealed Dr. K'houldoux had never fully qualified as a doctor and was seeking exile in Breadminster due to a series of botched bracelet heists in which he had previously been involved. K'houldoux was subsequently extradited to Basingstoke, where he served 3 of a 12-year sentence, owing to the lunar-oriented prisoner health campaigns he helped implement.

It has been a strange twist of bureaucratic fate that the Breadminster Board of Abstinence has never stopped receiving public funding, despite its lack of clear utility. And while its roots are tied to a rose-tinted past, the Board continues to sponsor cultural events and projects to this day.

An extract from: Eugeniq Schooner's article in Sydney Parishioner: “Clams, Breadminster and Countercultural Abstinence Trends” (2008)

They Came Like Swallows is the first album-length collaboration between Thurston Moore and Kramer (now officially Bonner Kramer), two giants of alternative/ experimental music. The accomplishments and influence of these two artists in the world of independent music cannot be overstated and the result of their artistic union is a startlingly cohesive statement that burns through landscapes of primitive outsider rock, avant-garde composition, progressive ambient and further locales boldly and beautifully unnamable. “Kramer and I reconnected in Miami, Florida, a few years back, many many years after each of us had departed NYC on separate life adventures. It was only a matter of time before Kramer and I started making plans to record together and with his irrepressible due diligence he quickly set up a mobile recording contraption in the pad I was decamped in, the Florida sunshine flowing through the palm leaves, lithe lizards skittering across the windowsills, and we just went for it.

Kramer had the idea to cover a Joy Division tune, a left turn from the improvisations we had been tracking, though wholly in keeping with both our sensibilities of light and dark unifying in transcendent songwriting, both of us devotees of 'the song' as well as 'the freedom.’ What transpired is They Came Like Swallows, a session we immediately felt should exist as a prayer to the war-torn souls of the families of Palestine continually decimated by the brutality of genocide. We agreed beyond words to offer our music as a sonic activism and as a beneficent energy. This album is our duo exchange for human dignity, it is our soul music for any semblance of a peaceful planet.” ~ Thurston Moore “For the first time in our nearly 45 years of friendship, we had identical time windows open to make a record together,” recounts Kramer. After all this time not a moment is wasted as the duo immediately taps into the heightened core of improvisational tension across these seven offerings. Volcanic opener “Urn Burial” notches a similar historic union (John Cale and Terry Riley) to meet the circumstances of the moment, with swirling mists of organ and pounding toms over guitar that thickens the atmosphere with jagged, grimy dissonance.

Solemn strings open the second track, “The Redness In The West,” with Kramer’s cello and viola in dueling bow beneath the high tension drive and sustain of Thurston’s electric guitar, tapping out a Morse code of tension that mounts endlessly into a fog of inevitable war by the end. Moore and Kramer’s sense of experimentalism is in free and full grandeur throughout They Came Like Swallows, though the duo keep a strong and constant sideways eye on melody, composition and architecture, to the ends that any strict lines between song and improvisation are blurred beyond qualification.

As if to punctuate this point, Swallows closes with a nightwork cover of Joy Division’s “Insight,” a doleful coda that breathes out with a solemn inner grace under Thurston’s instantly stylistically recognizable guitar melodies as they weave into he and Kramer’s unison voices. As the lone vocal piece and only traditional ‘song’ form on the album, “Insight” is unique to this set and as a closing statement draws connective lines back to the kind of dynamic, electrified melodicism that wove deep, melancholy patterns into the untamed fire of Sonic Youth’s Sister and Daydream Nation. In the album’s final moments, the two voices repeat the lyric “I’m not afraid anymore” as mantra, underscoring the heavy, unsettled themes and methods that preceded it. Kramer describes the creative process of They Came Like Swallows: “I had composed and recorded a few pieces at my home studio over the course of a couple weeks. Thurston was spending the winter in South Florida, so I flew down and spent a few days recording his guitar parts in his home there. Watching him spontaneously compose his parts was pretty astonishing, to say the least. Once we'd finished working on those pieces, we began improvising and following wherever the music pointed us, and another few pieces were born. We got straight to it, without anything driving us other than the joy of finally working together.

My personal goal was to remain present and catch as many surprises as I could from Thurston's guitar work, and there were plenty during those few days. We had a fucking blast.” Thurston’s contributions here will be readily familiar to any acolytes of his other works, the through-line between his inspired playing, cradled in Kramer’s meticulous, solid arrangements. “If I had to make this record again, I'd do it all exactly the same way,” Kramer says. “It’s like jazz, you don't think about it. You just do it. It was miraculous, and you don't fuck with a miracle.”

They Came Like Swallows is the first album-length collaboration between Thurston Moore and Kramer (now officially Bonner Kramer), two giants of alternative/ experimental music. The accomplishments and influence of these two artists in the world of independent music cannot be overstated and the result of their artistic union is a startlingly cohesive statement that burns through landscapes of primitive outsider rock, avant-garde composition, progressive ambient and further locales boldly and beautifully unnamable. “Kramer and I reconnected in Miami, Florida, a few years back, many many years after each of us had departed NYC on separate life adventures. It was only a matter of time before Kramer and I started making plans to record together and with his irrepressible due diligence he quickly set up a mobile recording contraption in the pad I was decamped in, the Florida sunshine flowing through the palm leaves, lithe lizards skittering across the windowsills, and we just went for it.

Kramer had the idea to cover a Joy Division tune, a left turn from the improvisations we had been tracking, though wholly in keeping with both our sensibilities of light and dark unifying in transcendent songwriting, both of us devotees of 'the song' as well as 'the freedom.’ What transpired is They Came Like Swallows, a session we immediately felt should exist as a prayer to the war-torn souls of the families of Palestine continually decimated by the brutality of genocide. We agreed beyond words to offer our music as a sonic activism and as a beneficent energy. This album is our duo exchange for human dignity, it is our soul music for any semblance of a peaceful planet.” ~ Thurston Moore “For the first time in our nearly 45 years of friendship, we had identical time windows open to make a record together,” recounts Kramer. After all this time not a moment is wasted as the duo immediately taps into the heightened core of improvisational tension across these seven offerings. Volcanic opener “Urn Burial” notches a similar historic union (John Cale and Terry Riley) to meet the circumstances of the moment, with swirling mists of organ and pounding toms over guitar that thickens the atmosphere with jagged, grimy dissonance.

Solemn strings open the second track, “The Redness In The West,” with Kramer’s cello and viola in dueling bow beneath the high tension drive and sustain of Thurston’s electric guitar, tapping out a Morse code of tension that mounts endlessly into a fog of inevitable war by the end. Moore and Kramer’s sense of experimentalism is in free and full grandeur throughout They Came Like Swallows, though the duo keep a strong and constant sideways eye on melody, composition and architecture, to the ends that any strict lines between song and improvisation are blurred beyond qualification.

As if to punctuate this point, Swallows closes with a nightwork cover of Joy Division’s “Insight,” a doleful coda that breathes out with a solemn inner grace under Thurston’s instantly stylistically recognizable guitar melodies as they weave into he and Kramer’s unison voices. As the lone vocal piece and only traditional ‘song’ form on the album, “Insight” is unique to this set and as a closing statement draws connective lines back to the kind of dynamic, electrified melodicism that wove deep, melancholy patterns into the untamed fire of Sonic Youth’s Sister and Daydream Nation. In the album’s final moments, the two voices repeat the lyric “I’m not afraid anymore” as mantra, underscoring the heavy, unsettled themes and methods that preceded it. Kramer describes the creative process of They Came Like Swallows: “I had composed and recorded a few pieces at my home studio over the course of a couple weeks. Thurston was spending the winter in South Florida, so I flew down and spent a few days recording his guitar parts in his home there. Watching him spontaneously compose his parts was pretty astonishing, to say the least. Once we'd finished working on those pieces, we began improvising and following wherever the music pointed us, and another few pieces were born. We got straight to it, without anything driving us other than the joy of finally working together.

My personal goal was to remain present and catch as many surprises as I could from Thurston's guitar work, and there were plenty during those few days. We had a fucking blast.” Thurston’s contributions here will be readily familiar to any acolytes of his other works, the through-line between his inspired playing, cradled in Kramer’s meticulous, solid arrangements. “If I had to make this record again, I'd do it all exactly the same way,” Kramer says. “It’s like jazz, you don't think about it. You just do it. It was miraculous, and you don't fuck with a miracle.”

What's the first thing you think of when someone mentions Thee Oh Sees? Probably their riot-sparking live show, right? Visions of a guitar-chewing, melody-maiming John Dwyer careening across your cranium, rounded out by a wild-eyed wrecking crew that drives every last hook home like it's a nail in the coffin of what you thought it meant to make 21st-century rock 'n' roll? Yeah, that sounds about right. But it misses a more important point-how impossible Thee Oh Sees have been to pin down since Dwyer launched the project in the late '90s as a solo break from such sorely missed underground bands as Pink and Brown and Coachwhips. (While Dwyer still records songs on his own, Thee Oh Sees is now a five-piece featuring keyboardist / singer Brigid Dawson, guitarist Petey Dammit, drummer Mike Shoun and multi-instrumentalist / singer Lars Finberg.) That restlessness extends to everything from the towering, thirteen-minute title track of 2010's Warm Smile LP to the mercurial moods of 2008's The Master's Bedroom Is Worth Spending a Night In. Now, Thee Oh Sees chase the home-brewed symphonies of Castlemania with the scrappy, high-wire hooks of Carrion Crawler / The Dream. Originally envisioned as two EPs, it was cut live to tape in less than a week at Chris Woodhouse's Sacramento studio in June, reflecting the battering-ram bent of the band's live show better than any bootleg ever could. "As I'm sure most would agree," explains Dwyer, "Castlemania was more of a vocal tirade. This one's meant to pummel and throb." That it does, whether one blasts the slow, speaker-bruising build of "The Dream," the sunburnt organs and dovetailing guitars of "Crack in Your Eye" or the interstellar instrumental "Chem-Farmer," a perfect example of what happens when one takes a well-oiled machine-a gang of rabid road warriors, really-and adds a second, groove-locked drum set to the mix. To listen is to realize that Dwyer's music is as manic as the underground comic inclinations of his artwork; colorful and confusing in a way that's more than welcome. It's downright refreshing, like a slap in the face at 5:00 in the morning. Or, as Dwyer puts it, "You have to leave a mark somehow."

Moving freely through time and space via experimental DIY recordings since 2009, Joasihno return with their fourth album "Spots".

“Find your spot in the shade,” a truly laid-back and incredibly soft-spoken MC once advised, yet in a world that seems to get shadier every day, it’s probably time to finally get out and face the sun. Southern German experimental pop duo Joasihno – initial solo founder Cico Beck (The Notwist, Aloa Input, Spirit Fest) and drummer/composer Nico Sierig (Instrument, Fehler Kuti) – seem to know exactly when it’s time to shine. Idiosyncratic genre tweakers since day one, they have been operating at their own pace, mostly staying in their own shady corner. Yet, almost a decade after their most recent “Meshes” (an album that came with a whole legion of tiny music robots), it’s high time for them to take over more corners, to reclaim even more spots between lo-fi and sci-fi, retro electronica and contemporary classic. Drawing upon influences as varied as Reich, Riley, and Ryuichi, múm, Meek, and Moondog, while also nodding to other experimental twosomes (e.g. The Books), the duo’s fourth full-length “Spots” is set to arrive via Alien Transistor in late 2025.

Leaving soulless automation and all things artificial to others, Joasihno launch the latest record on “2 Squares” that feel like a peaceful, almost bucolic version of retro space age: lights blink ever so softly as easy-going bass tones point at today’s introspective flight arc. Electronic shapes align and things lift off – with a majestic 8-bit sunrise soon appearing right in front of us. Whereas playful title song “Spots” is a miniature Rube Goldberg kind of device, with quirky plucked strings and glitches setting off more and more contraption layers, “Crackleboom” is uncharted energy, an open landscape, an expanding bonfire that leads to a long-forgotten piano, all dust-covered in some kind of saloon. Space might be only noise to others, here, it’s foreboding screeches (“Dizzle Whistle”) that make room for A-side center piece “Forest Lights”: a steady beat that lures us to a clearance in the woods. Things break and shatter in the distance, but this spot right here is for hypnosis, dancing, sylvan spirits. And yeah, it’s surprisingly hot down here in the undergrowth…

Opening side B with a fun banger that takes the unhinged dancing to the playground – “Characa Orb.” feels like French kids on swings going crazy, a tipsy, tongue-in-cheek electro blow-out between Oizo and Orbis Tertius –, things get even more cinematic throughout the second half. Even the cheapest, lo-fiest gear is sufficient to make “The Slow Hour” glow like true, timeless pop royalty. In fact, the very same pop spirits roam and celebrate freely in the chirpy coves of mesmerizing “Detune Lagoon” – more hand-crafted sci-fi/lo-fi loops you’ll only find after facing the ghosts of Lynch or Sakamoto on those night-time trails under the “Deep Moon”. It’s all DIY spots, spots that leave room to dream or dangle, drape yourself over or dive into. Returning to the leafy bower on a melancholy post rock tip, we eventually learn that “Death Is Real” – and so we’re left with a laterna magica that turns and turns and turns. It’s a beautiful spot where light and shadows keep on dancing, just like they’ve always done, ever since the dawn of this madcap universe.

Sumer Is Icumen In is Quentin Thirionet's (Dhavali Giri, Pairi Daeza) debut album. Still, his musical escapades are vast and varied, based almost entirely on improvisation and live recordings, of which he occasionally distributes tapes without further information. Elusive to categorization and identification, unwilling to fix his musical activity under a stable pseudonym, his projects have ranged from gypsy jazz guitar swings, French traditional songs from Auvergne, and various experimental collaborations. Increasingly closer to electronic instrumentation, he crafted what Belgian label KRAAK presents here as Maibaum, his first ever solo output. As the title goes, this may be a maypole on which his multicolored sonic visions spring about.

Former rope access worker and currently a farmer of organic greens, Thirionet lives up to these lines of work as a musician. He assembles precisely what seems like a subtle balance between high manmade structures and soft fertilized soils; a high voltage pylon placed in a biotic landscape. It's all an even blend, spontaneous and steady, but this contraption comes from profound considerations. "I chose these tracks among many others," says Quentin, "because I heard the melodies all the time in my mind, and because I cried while playing them without really understanding why."
Armed with nothing more than a blackbox, a sequencer, a freeze pedal, and a tape player, Thirionet orchestrates a vivid rite of polished futures. At times reminiscent of Hans-Joachim Roedelius' enveloping arrangements, Maibaum's ambiances rely on mild repetitive patterns subsequently textured by prickling sprouts, mechanic dislocations and revamps that stoke and brighten the stirring motions. Jim O'Rourke's I'm Happy and I'm Singing comes to mind in terms of its detailed and prismatic nature, but Sumer Is Incumen In has its particular narrative. It's a tale of regeneration, of spring's delicate procedures and allure, a celebration of gracious and fortunate junctions between nature and machinery.

The album unfolds like a massive engine being made flesh to drift along the ether of a sultry land. The terrain turns pleasant and fertile in the title track; the colors and melodies of May start to unravel. Chromatic columns rise and define the scenery's depth of field breeding a synesthetic stream between crystal lights and warbling organisms. Grande Albero Buono Magico Uoma's brisk kaleidoscopic arpeggios sound like scanning a tree's litmus foliage. Then Ciguri takes us back to the foggy swamp of the beginning but is suddenly lit by an insect’s labyrinthine roundabout. The Jeweled Grid is a poem Quanta Qualia's lustrous metallic voice recites as a report of the album's phenomena. "Shiny revelations jump out. Pearls of thought flicker about." Images from within that distill to swirl around among us. The thicket dissolves as the album concludes calmly in Le Concept De Chien N'aboie Pas. Swaying under sieved solar light, leaves and branches tingle until the winds grow weak. All the warm creatures gathered along the way, and all those who danced around the maypole's splendid equilibrium now withdraw, folding up small to foster rebirth once again.

José Badía Berner

Seth Price’s suite “Coinos Driftos“ announces itself with the sound of a rolling coin – a punctuation that repeats throughout the record – before dropping the listener into a storm of harsh winds and far-away bells. When the storm abates we find ourselves in a desolate field of stuttering electric harp and electronic sub-bass. Side B emerges from a mist of gentle tones that soon give way to a juddering contraption of dropped coins and clacking noises, which itself seems to summon the arrival of a war machine – a glorious squall of high tones, bristling with Helmholtz inner-ear sensations, all just barely kept in line by a loping, irregular bassline – that resolves into a final, more personal, piece of field recording. Seth Price made the music in 2023 by improvising three straight-through takes on Arp synthesizer, bells, and electric Nagoya harp, often playing two instruments at once, with all signals routed through pedals and processors; these tracks were sequenced before the addition of overdubbed bass guitar and field recordings.

The heavyweight trio of Keiji Haino, Jim O’Rourke and Oren Ambarchi return with their 12th and most epic release to date, the triple LP With pats on the head, just one too few is evil one too many is good that's all it is. Documenting the entirety of their final performance at the dearly departed Roppongi home of Tokyo underground institution SuperDeluxe in November 2018, the music spread across these six sides splits the difference between the guitar-bass-drums power trio moves and experiments with novel instrumentation that have defined the trio’s decade of working together. Containing some of the most delicate music the three have committed to wax since the gorgeous 12-string acoustic guitar and dulcimer tones of Only wanting to melt beautifully away is it a lack of contentment that stirs affection for those things said to be as of yet unseen (BT011), this wide-ranging release also offers up some of their most blistering free rock performances yet.

The side-long opening piece finds Haino on a single snare drum in duet with O’Rourke on unamplified electric guitar, playing in the lovely post-Bailey vein heard on his classic 90s recordings with Henry Kaiser and Mats Gustafsson. Spiky dissonance and ringing harmonics interweave with flowing melodic fragments as Haino single-mindedly explores the resonance of the snare like an untutored Han Bennink. On ‘Right brain, left brain; right, left; right wing, left wing. Just how many combinations can be made from these?’, O’Rourke moves to synth and electronics, joined by Ambarchi on drums, who at first focuses on sizzle cymbals before hypnotic cycles of gentle tom rhythms combine with electronic burbles and flutters to suggest a dream collaboration between Masahiko Togashi and Jean Schwarz. Ambarchi’s percussion is then joined by Haino on wandering, overblown flute, before the man in black switches back to the snare for a bizarre, stuttering drum duet.

For the first trio performance, Haino makes another new addition to his seemingly infinite catalogue of instruments, this time a homemade contraption he refers to as ‘Strings of Dubious Reputation’. Joined by O’Rourke on increasingly spaced-out electric guitar and Ambarchi on skittering percussion, Haino’s wonky, slack strings adds a definite ‘musique brut’ edge to this side-long performance, certainly one of the most enchantingly odd in the trio’s discography. When the group reconvene for the second set, spread out across the final three sides, they seem ready to breathe fire from the first instant. O’Rourke slashes distorted chords on the six-string bass, Ambarchi breaks into his signature irregular caveman thump, and Haino squeals and squawks on heavily delayed oboe before unleashing an overpowering electrical storm when he first picks up the guitar. For over half an hour, the trio pound out one of their most relentless performances, a constantly rearranging kaleidoscope of tortured fuzz guitar, insanely busy bass riffing and propulsive, tumbling drums. A hushed atmosphere initially reigns on the final long piece, given the mournful title ‘There are always things I wish to say but I can only convey them in this language August 6 August 9’. Haino’s clean guitar strumming calls up the shimmering tones of his PSF classic Affection, gradually building to a surging wall of sound, bass and drums lumbering through a roar of jet-engine guitar. Arriving in a deluxe trifold package with photos by Lasse Marhaug alongside inner sleeves with extensive live images, this epic release is perhaps the most remarkable document yet of this unique trio’s stamina and continuing inventiveness.

Bottin teams up with Francisco (Jolly Music, L.U.C.A.) for a drugged-out, sexed up, slo-mo psych-rock aptly titled LOVE LIFE. Old acquaintance Rodion steps in on remix duties, working deranged synth magic in the extended dj version. On the flipside, Argentina's Fernando Pulichino (2020 Soundsystem, Silver City) joins in with his flamboyant bass and shimmering guitars on DELTA TIGRE, an afro-cosmic sound contraption. The IchiSan remix heads up to the sky, all the way to synth heaven. Overall a compelling, throbbing disco-not-disco EP for adventurous djs and dancers in-the-know, who want to hear something different and juicy.

'Verzamelen II' is the second volume in a retrospective series in which we look back at the work of Wouter van Veldhoven (Netherlands). Throughout the past decade, the Dutch composer built an impressive catalogue of music in which tape loop and modular synthesis experiments hold a central place. Both collaborations and solo-work saw the light through some distinctive labels such as Slaapwel, The Tapeworm, Umor Rex and Digitalis among others.

With this series we want to dive into some work which slightly went under the radar. The pieces are collected from several releases and are re-mastered for the occasion. Some of them were never physically released before.

Peter Broderick and Hainbach kindly joined this trip by offering two new reworks which close this second volume.

Songs taken from ‘A head stuck in tapes’, ‘Een paar schetjes en optredens 2005-2006’ & other found unreleased tracks.

Tape

'Verzamelen II' is the second volume in a retrospective series in which we look back at the work of Wouter van Veldhoven (Netherlands). Throughout the past decade, the Dutch composer built an impressive catalogue of music in which tape loop and modular synthesis experiments hold a central place. Both collaborations and solo-work saw the light through some distinctive labels such as Slaapwel, The Tapeworm, Umor Rex and Digitalis among others.

With this series we want to dive into some work which slightly went under the radar. The pieces are collected from several releases and are re-mastered for the occasion. Some of them were never physically released before.

Peter Broderick and Hainbach kindly joined this trip by offering two new reworks which close this second volume.

Songs taken from ‘A head stuck in tapes’, ‘Een paar schetjes en optredens 2005-2006’ & other found unreleased tracks.

"Imagine the opposite of a snake shedding its skin: a body slithering among the debris of 21st-century music; a porous, viscid body, its skin an adhesive, lodging onto itself bits and pieces along the way. Some are scraps, rusted, discarded parts. Some are the jewels of crowns, unglued and fallen from grace, now re-attached on this makeshift contraption. Where does a body end? Does it end where these prostheses begin?

Jay Glass Dubs’ Soma (“body” in Greek) is a palimpsest. Look closely and you can find all sorts of DNA microarrays on the body’s skin – Bristol voices, Detroit electro hums, the amen break, the all-encompassing dub haze – but, as with all palimpsests, they are simultaneously one and a multitude. The body lives, its prostheses live.

The body moves."

Black Truffle is excited to announce the release of the first-ever vinyl reissue of Ruedi Häusermann's Galerie Randolph, a masterpiece of solo multi-tracking originally released on CD by Unit Records in 1995. Born in 1948 and residing in the medieval Swiss town of Lenzburg, and virtually unknown outside of the German-speaking world, Häusermann is a multi-instrumentalist and enormously prolific composer who works primarily in the medium of absurdist music-theatre. A virtuoso wind player and free improviser who also composes for traditional classical instrumentation, his work is characterised by subtly surreal humour and the unlikely combination of extended technique and simple, at times almost child-like, melodic ideas. Named after his rehearsal room in Lenzburg, Galerie Randolph uses an enormous array of instruments to craft a work of singular compositional vision. Each of the twelve pieces begins from the same two elements: a woozy, sliding scatter of tones played on a home-made contraption stretching two guitar strings between the top of Häusermann's alto saxophone and an amplified cup, and a series of uneasy block chords sounded on accordion and reeds. On each piece these two elements (whose pitch gradually raises throughout the record) are complemented by entirely different material, all of it played by Häusermann. Ranging from layered flutes to one-finger piano melodies to unintelligible vocals to musique concrete interjections to free jazz saxophone explosions, these additional layers combine with the endlessly returning idée fixe of the foundational elements to create a truly dream-like listening experience, a gently deranged realm in which we lose all sense of linear time. Calling up the most unlikely combinations of possible predecessors - Erik Satie, Gerry Mulligan, and Helmut Lachenmann perhaps -Galerie Randolph ultimately defies comparison. Almost unknown except to a select group of cognoscenti such as Jim O'Rourke, yet destined to become a cult classic, Galerie Randolph is an instance of that most rare thing: music the likes of which you have never heard before.

Presented in a deluxe gatefold sleeve with gorgeous archival images by the composer. Design by Stephen O'Malley. Mastered and cut by Rashad Becker at D&M, Berlin

Key selling points: - Black Truffle is excited to announce the release of the first-ever vinyl reissue of Ruedi Häusermann's Galerie Randolph, a masterpiece of solo multi-tracking originally released in 1995, the album utilises an enormous array of instruments to craft a work of singular compositional vision.

- Calling up the most unlikely combinations of possible predecessors - Erik Satie, Gerry Mulligan, and Helmut Lachenmann perhaps -Galerie Randolph ultimately defies comparison.

- Each of the twelve pieces begins from the same two elements: a woozy, sliding scatter of tones and a series of uneasy block chords sounded on accordion and reeds. On each piece these two elements are complemented by entirely different material, ranging from layered flutes to one-finger piano melodies to unintelligible vocals to musique concrete interjections to free jazz saxophone explosions, these additional layers combine with the endlessly returning idée fixe of the foundational elements to create a truly dream-like listening experience, a gently deranged realm in which we lose all sense of linear time.

- Almost unknown except to a select group of cognoscenti such as Jim O'Rourke, yet destined to become a cult classic, Galerie Randolph is an instance of that most rare thing: music the likes of which you have never heard before.

- Galerie Randolph is presented in a deluxe gatefold sleeve with gorgeous archival images by the composer with design by Stephen O'Malley. Mastered and cut by Rashad Becker at D&M, Berlin

tim jones, also known as Preacherman and recorded under midi man, ironing Board Band and t.j. hustler. he made one very rare lp, and two even rarer cD's. these tracks are from the cD's. he was a salesman for iBm in Las Vegas, where he sold selectric t ypewriters and then word processors during the day and at night he would perform in the Las Vegas lounges. he was somewhat of an engineer and adapted a hammond B3 organ to play a moog synth with some of the organ keys, (some still played the organ),
and he adapted the organ's foot controlled bass levers to play two moog synth bass pedals (a failed item moog made for a few years.) thinking he wasn't much of a live performer he had a wooden puppet made that he named t.j hustler, and together with the puppet, he would engage in long philosophical soliloquies, (some of which are featured on this album).if you meet tim, he is not someone who stops talking. in fact he even created a little book called universal Philosophy. he has a lot to say about everything. currently he lives with his 103 year old mother in
Oakland. there he infrequently plays shows on his casio where he fashions himself a live Karaoke performer, who comes complete with 5 wireless mics and P.a. and a list of about a 100 songs he can play. his invented organ contraption and puppet are in storage in Las Vegas, and he seems intensely
uninterested in getting them out, as 'the kids these days want to hear the sounds the casio makes.'

Presenting 'Envelope'. Album written, produced & mixed by Milan W. and pressed on 180g vinyl, by Ekster. Coming out on the 6th of June 2018, with foil-stamped cover-drawing by Gerard Herman. Mastered & cut by Helmut Erler at Dubplates & Mastering.
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Milan W (AKA Milan Warmoeskerken) is an Antwerp-based musician. In 2015 he released the Slo Mo cassette, on local label JJ Funhouse. The Intact LP a year later. Compositions constructed from gentle, yet persistent, rhythms. Intricately textured downtempo echoes. Brain-dancing, rather than four-to-the-floor raving. 2017`s split with Ekolalis, for The Hague`s BAKK, made clear the direction Milan`s headed in. His contribution being a seventeen minute float. The kick largely removed. The textures cut-up, expanded and magnified. Envelope, for Ekster, builds on this work.

The harlequin turns the handle. The contraption sucks in air, and breathes. Blows out tone poems. Wordless ballads that soundtrack enchanted scenarios. Issues forth magic. A sorcerer`s apprentice casting its spell. Animating the inanimate. To everything a life. Sets the frozen fluttering. Pirouetting in red shoes. Illuminates what was dark. Astma sings a Gamelan lullaby. Summons comforting angels to a post-Industrial landscape. Glaasjes has Jazz ghosts inhabit an empty bar room. Spirits stealing excuse-me`s under its deserted spot. In Limbo amplifies their whispers. Lead soldiers court jewellery-box ballerinas behind shuttered shop fronts. On Heraldic Snippets, a tin infantry marches. Ten thousand men up to the top, and back down again. Keys make-believing that they are massed brass and fife.

The bellows pump, and the pipes all the while wheezing. An automaton philharmonic at the bidding of a steam-punk master. Analogue and digital. Clockwork and glitch. Malady finds sounds isolated, extrapolated, mutated. Orchestral`s organ-grinder moves with urgency, and alchemy. Spinning straw into gold. Snare rolls become bubbling mercury. Metallic, yet fluid. Racing at the speed of flight and escape. Slope is the music of water chasing through crystal caves. Slow Runner, a funeral crawl. Shoved into motion by a drama of strings remembered.
Like the charismatic Rat-Catcher of Hamelin, the harlequin turns the handle, and we bang the cup.

Alien Ensemble's trombone man Mathias Goetz caused quite a splash when he released his eponymous debut LP under his Le Millipede moniker back in 2015: The multi-instrumentalist's initial offering was clearly something else, impossible to grasp, a musical vessel beyond genre, beyond style or era, seemingly beyond space and time even, a vessel that carried an almost cosmic kind of song-craft - music with no fixed stamp of origin, though it did somehow feel like an Alien Transistor release. Followed by remix album Mirror Mirror, which comprised reworks by 1115, Protein, LeRoy, Olaf Opal, and Saroos, to name a few, it's now time for album #2: The Sun Has No Money.Let's face it: There's nothing as majestic as the sun. At least not in our world. If it runs out of juice one day, it's game over: The End. Light's out. For everyone. At that point, it wouldn't even matter if you're rich or poor. We're all equal under the sun. Same level. And yeah, this might not be major news, but then again... we're talking about the sun. The sun! Guess it's about time to acknowledge its power and superiority, right In fact, you can feel it on your bicycle: pedaling at night, when it's on duty in other hemispheres, and you're working hard at the dynamo, sweating, you can actually feel how powerful it is. In the end you get off the bike all recharged, a tune on your lips - and somehow feeling like a miniature version of the sun yourself. And whenever you feel like that, that's exactly the right moment to grab a melodica and get to work.Following an initial warm-up round sans electricity, this new album soon begins to glow: Mathias Goetz aka Le Millipede doesn't need pedals, he boosts circulation by single-handedly* playing tons and tons of different instruments - it actually feels like thousands, easily. And thus begins a show that has countless levels to it: There are various sonic illusions... and yet Le Millipede doesn't hide anything: He's also willing to show the inner workings, the actual recording process and everything else. In short: he goes meta. Makes songs about making songs. That's right: why not use all these beautiful means to address the issue of money It's not the sun that casts shadows, all it does is recharge, fuel: growth & thriving, that's the sun's area of responsibility. And yet there came a man whose plan was simple: steal the fruit from your garden, only to sell it right back to you, for money. We can hear the sea gulls crying in the distance, as somebody is throwing breadcrumbs up into the wind that carries their voices...It's not the sun that casts shadows - all it does is radiate light. And yet there came a time when someone blocked those rays of light. Now if you're some kind of Diogenes, you'll simply say, Move at least a little out of the sun.' But if you're a teacher, you'll maybe light up your pipe and use that to lighten up. What matters is that the percussion parts, in this case, resemble some serious musique concréte. The sun doesn't know shadows - all it knows, is itself. And yet somebody entered the picture and built an entire city. A city full of streets, so that houses can cast shadows into these avenues. Plus, there's music in the streets, music originally written inside the walls of said houses.One of those streets is known as the Tin Pan Alley: a place that got its name from a music writer who compared the sound of so many pianos to the banging of tin pans. That sound: that's one side of the road that is this album. Some of these melodies appear to be shadows of earlier tunes, dating back to, say, 1898 or even before that, melodies that were first registered in the Tin Pan Alley publishers' offices back in 1912 or 1917. We actually get to see this Alley at that point in time. We see the ropes, the workings. How things come together, the actual act of creation. Suddenly, we can hear the shadows!
Okay, so one side of this street is America. The US of A. The opposite side: Russia. And smack dab in the middle: Europe. A pothole in the center. All the back-and-forth that occurs between these two poles ultimately depends on the movement of the sun. Night and day, taking turns, commuting in and out of sight. We get to meet Prokofiew's and Scriabin's ghost, among other spirits, reframed and published by Le Millipede's own imaginary label imprint on the historic Tin Pan Alley. Indeed there are moments on this album when Le Millipede seems to be playing Scriabin's clavier a` lumie`res (tastiera per luce), when his performance seems to be based on synesthesia, a wild cross-pollination of colors and sounds. In case you didn't know this: In the States, Prokofiew goes by the name Brian Wilson, and Scriabin's also known as Sun Ra - yet another guy who's usually broke, but gets to spend a lot of time out in the sun. Together, these assorted protagonists ask the people of the Antilles for Mutabor dance-tokens and send postcards to Moondog in Germany, right back into the darkness. On the postcards you can see people dancing the Biguine...Firing foreign fossil fuels from all pipes (Brennelementsteuer!), Le Millipede controls the very center of this hustle and bustle: going as far as to employ some southern Chopped & Screwed styles, he's 100% current and zeitgeisty! Houston, we've got a problem: there's some kind of myriapod, centi- or millipede on the loose! Well, give me another sip of lean, sizzurp, dirty Sprite, and on goes the journey in the Pullman coach. Let's follow the sun! Keep on moving, keep things motorik! Here comes the Trans-Eureka-Express. Cherish the backpacking days! A piercing rhapsody of sound (bohrende Rhapsodie), we'll remember them fondly! And thus things move on, the sun, the days, the earth: rise, set, action, round and round... onwards eternally. The sun: the biggest loop known to mankind. As if it was some kind of sonic Rube Goldberg contraption, time seems to be stretching out while listening to that hmmm. After all: time is a lot (a lot!) more than just money. And yeah, the sun is the real big shot on (or rather: above) Planet Earth. Le Millipede's live line-up also includes Markus & Micha Acher (The Notwist etc.), Nico Sierig (Joasihno), and Manuela Rzytki (G. Rag & die Landlergschwister, Kamerakino etc.).
*sole exception: Evi Keglmaier (Zwirbeldirn, Hochzeitskapelle) plays the viola. Words/sun worship: Pico Be

Following their much-acclaimed surprise debut album VERMONT from 2014, Motor City Drum Ensemble's Danilo Plessow and Innervisions' Marcus Worgull reunite for more synth daydreaming on the suitably titled II'. The new outing continues where the first full-length left off, strolling further down the luminous and undulating path that the duo turned into, influenced in equal measures by kosmische, krautrock, minimal wave and synth soundtracks.
This latest batch of instrumental cuts opens with the strictly balearic vibe of NORDERNEY, a softly swinging, light-footed recording with a keen sense for structure. Featuring a guest performance from Robbert Van Der Bildt (aka Kaap) on guitar, it's a telling starting point for the album that - similar to Vermont's self-titled debut - successfully navigates between economic, careful studio arrangements and playful, incidental exploration further pushing into jam session territory. Van Der Bildt's guitar returns on the plucky, curious UFER, where Vermont showcase a renewed sense for jazz-like improvisation - same as on the cuts DSCHUNA, CHANANG and WENIK, which also include contributions from Dermot O'Mahony and Tadhg Murphy on strings.
Still, Vermont's synth contraptions remain the album's main attraction, with the extensive array of gear encompassing an entire panopticon of analog bling - from Arp Oddysey and Moog Prodigy to Fender Rhodes, Juno and Prophet, list-studying gear heads will find lots to drool upon. Consequently, tracks like CHEMTRAILS, UNRUH or GEBIRGE err on the machine side of things, expertly interweaving arpeggiated sequences for maximum atmospheric effect. Foreboding, slightly menacing synth motives as on SKORBUT or CHEMTRAILS are perfectly balanced with the casual ambient of HALLO VON DER ANDEREN SEITE and the nostalgic warmth of DEMUT - while the gentle push of the masterful KI-BOU even carries a whiff of classic deep house, linking the Vermont project to Plessow and Worgull's main careers as dance floor movers and shakers.
Continually intriguing, immersive and texturally rich, each one of Vermont's new pieces betray the experience, precision and determination of the producers involved - while opening up Worgull and Plessow'a vocabulary for patient experimentation and subtle discoveries. A musical treat for synth aficionados - and everyone else, if you ask us.