Dais Records News

Space Afrika, das in Manchester und Berlin ansässige Duo aus Joshua Tarelle Reid und Joshua Inyang, schafft rohe, detailreiche und eindringliche Musik mit Anklängen an Ambient, Trip-Hop, Techno und moderne Klassik, wobei es aus den Konturen seiner Stadt weitläufige urbane Dub-Landschaften entwirft. ,Quiet Storm" erweitert ihren Klang und ihre Bandbreite zu einer weitläufigen, kollaborativen Vision, die mit tiefer Geduld und Absicht geformt wurde und ihre eigene Coming-of-Age-Geschichte in eine bewegende Suite kathartischer Abstraktion einbettet. Die Songs spielen auf Spiritualität und die conditio humana an, auf die Spannung zwischen Kühnheit und Sanftheit, Ehrgeiz und hartnäckigen inneren Dämonen. ,Quiet Storm" ist eine Antwort auf den Werdegang des Duos seit der Veröffentlichung von ,Honest Labour" im Jahr 2021. ,Wir haben uns selbst und unsere eigenen Vorstellungen von Identität herausgefordert, insbesondere in Bezug auf Klasse und Diaspora, und wie dies in verschiedenen Musikgenres dargestellt wird. Wir wollten die Charakteristika unseres Projekts durch die Menschen zeigen, mit denen wir zusammenarbeiten wollten", sagt Reid. Inyang merkt an: ,Bei der Entstehung dieses Albums haben wir keine Kompromisse gemacht. Die Idee begann als eine Hommage an die Kunst der Schwarzen. Unsere Kooperationen waren sehr bewusst gewählt, als wir die Grundpfeiler der Geschichte entdeckten." Von der multidisziplinären Natur des Projekts zeugt die Beteiligung des gefeierten Künstlers Glenn Ligon, dessen Werk sich mit schwarzer Identität und Queerness befasst. Ligon, der zu Beginn der Aufnahmen eine zentrale Inspirationsquelle darstellte, stellte sein Werk ,Figure #30" (2009) für das Cover-Artwork zur Verfügung und erklärte sich nach Abschluss der Aufnahmen bereit, dem Projekt seinen Namen zu geben - eine beispiellose Geste dieses wegweisenden Künstlers. Beim Anhören der endgültigen Fassung dachte Ligon an ,Quiet Storm", das Radioformat der 1970er Jahre, das für seine sanfte Late-Night-Programmgestaltung mit Themen rund um Leben und Liebe bekannt war. ,Quiet Storm" führt den Hörer durch verschiedene Szenen, Zwischenspiele und Handlungsbögen, geprägt von dem Gefühl, dass seine Bewegung fließend und seine Figuren flüchtig sind. Monologe vor dem Spiegel setzen sich mit dem Existentiellen und dem Unmittelbaren auseinander: Überleben, Autonomie, Sinn. Das Album beginnt mit dem explosiven, von Streichern begleiteten ,Vanity", bei dem die Grammy-Preisträgerin Axelle Fanyo zu hören ist. Zunächst auf die Spalten eines stillen Raumes fixiert, entfaltet sich ,Vanity" unter Fanyos ausdrucksstarkem Sopran und durchläuft ein breites emotionales Spektrum von erhabener Kontemplation bis hin zu ergreifendem, herzzerreißendem Schmerz. Auf dem gesamten Album werden gesprochene und gesungene Worte sparsam eingesetzt, um eine kraftvolle Wirkung zu erzielen. Die Schönheit und Katharsis von ,MLN" ist ein kollektiver, langsamer Marsch, bei dem der britisch-nigerianische Künstler Tony Njoku mitwirkt, begleitet von Gabriel Evans an Gitarre und Lead-Bass, PIKE aus London am Schlagzeug und GB aus Kopenhagen an Keyboards und Streichern. Der letzte Satz verleiht ,Quiet Storm" seinen krönenden Höhepunkt. ,If This Is Hell" ist in einem einzigen Take als Bewusstseinsstrom des New Yorkers Deuén aufgenommen, dessen nachvollziehbare Spirale geistiger Aktivität von jazzigen, frenetischen Percussion-Klängen begleitet wird. Das Druckventil öffnet sich, als die phasenverschobenen Drums und die scharf beobachtenden, dialogartigen Phrasen abrupt nach der Zeile ,I wonder if that's what heaven's like?" abbrechen. Wir bleiben in der Behaglichkeit des Album-Closers ,Regards" zurück. Regentropfen treffen auf Orgel, Drone, Streicher und Keyboards, während das Nachladen von Waffen dem ruhigen Summen gegenübergestellt wird. Schwer und doch hoffnungsvoll erinnern Joshua Tarelle Reid und Joshua Inyang an ihre bisherige Reise. Als passend geheimnisvolles und mitreißendes Outro für ihr offenes Opus ist ,Quiet Storm" ein Meilenstein: selbst produziert, selbst finanziert und aus purer Tatkraft und Überzeugung entstanden. Durch verzerrte Zeit und schummrigen Dunst ist Space Afrika zweifellos angekommen

Space Afrika, das in Manchester und Berlin ansässige Duo aus Joshua Tarelle Reid und Joshua Inyang, schafft rohe, detailreiche und eindringliche Musik mit Anklängen an Ambient, Trip-Hop, Techno und moderne Klassik, wobei es aus den Konturen seiner Stadt weitläufige urbane Dub-Landschaften entwirft. ,Quiet Storm" erweitert ihren Klang und ihre Bandbreite zu einer weitläufigen, kollaborativen Vision, die mit tiefer Geduld und Absicht geformt wurde und ihre eigene Coming-of-Age-Geschichte in eine bewegende Suite kathartischer Abstraktion einbettet. Die Songs spielen auf Spiritualität und die conditio humana an, auf die Spannung zwischen Kühnheit und Sanftheit, Ehrgeiz und hartnäckigen inneren Dämonen. ,Quiet Storm" ist eine Antwort auf den Werdegang des Duos seit der Veröffentlichung von ,Honest Labour" im Jahr 2021. ,Wir haben uns selbst und unsere eigenen Vorstellungen von Identität herausgefordert, insbesondere in Bezug auf Klasse und Diaspora, und wie dies in verschiedenen Musikgenres dargestellt wird. Wir wollten die Charakteristika unseres Projekts durch die Menschen zeigen, mit denen wir zusammenarbeiten wollten", sagt Reid. Inyang merkt an: ,Bei der Entstehung dieses Albums haben wir keine Kompromisse gemacht. Die Idee begann als eine Hommage an die Kunst der Schwarzen. Unsere Kooperationen waren sehr bewusst gewählt, als wir die Grundpfeiler der Geschichte entdeckten." Von der multidisziplinären Natur des Projekts zeugt die Beteiligung des gefeierten Künstlers Glenn Ligon, dessen Werk sich mit schwarzer Identität und Queerness befasst. Ligon, der zu Beginn der Aufnahmen eine zentrale Inspirationsquelle darstellte, stellte sein Werk ,Figure #30" (2009) für das Cover-Artwork zur Verfügung und erklärte sich nach Abschluss der Aufnahmen bereit, dem Projekt seinen Namen zu geben - eine beispiellose Geste dieses wegweisenden Künstlers. Beim Anhören der endgültigen Fassung dachte Ligon an ,Quiet Storm", das Radioformat der 1970er Jahre, das für seine sanfte Late-Night-Programmgestaltung mit Themen rund um Leben und Liebe bekannt war. ,Quiet Storm" führt den Hörer durch verschiedene Szenen, Zwischenspiele und Handlungsbögen, geprägt von dem Gefühl, dass seine Bewegung fließend und seine Figuren flüchtig sind. Monologe vor dem Spiegel setzen sich mit dem Existentiellen und dem Unmittelbaren auseinander: Überleben, Autonomie, Sinn. Das Album beginnt mit dem explosiven, von Streichern begleiteten ,Vanity", bei dem die Grammy-Preisträgerin Axelle Fanyo zu hören ist. Zunächst auf die Spalten eines stillen Raumes fixiert, entfaltet sich ,Vanity" unter Fanyos ausdrucksstarkem Sopran und durchläuft ein breites emotionales Spektrum von erhabener Kontemplation bis hin zu ergreifendem, herzzerreißendem Schmerz. Auf dem gesamten Album werden gesprochene und gesungene Worte sparsam eingesetzt, um eine kraftvolle Wirkung zu erzielen. Die Schönheit und Katharsis von ,MLN" ist ein kollektiver, langsamer Marsch, bei dem der britisch-nigerianische Künstler Tony Njoku mitwirkt, begleitet von Gabriel Evans an Gitarre und Lead-Bass, PIKE aus London am Schlagzeug und GB aus Kopenhagen an Keyboards und Streichern. Der letzte Satz verleiht ,Quiet Storm" seinen krönenden Höhepunkt. ,If This Is Hell" ist in einem einzigen Take als Bewusstseinsstrom des New Yorkers Deuén aufgenommen, dessen nachvollziehbare Spirale geistiger Aktivität von jazzigen, frenetischen Percussion-Klängen begleitet wird. Das Druckventil öffnet sich, als die phasenverschobenen Drums und die scharf beobachtenden, dialogartigen Phrasen abrupt nach der Zeile ,I wonder if that's what heaven's like?" abbrechen. Wir bleiben in der Behaglichkeit des Album-Closers ,Regards" zurück. Regentropfen treffen auf Orgel, Drone, Streicher und Keyboards, während das Nachladen von Waffen dem ruhigen Summen gegenübergestellt wird. Schwer und doch hoffnungsvoll erinnern Joshua Tarelle Reid und Joshua Inyang an ihre bisherige Reise. Als passend geheimnisvolles und mitreißendes Outro für ihr offenes Opus ist ,Quiet Storm" ein Meilenstein: selbst produziert, selbst finanziert und aus purer Tatkraft und Überzeugung entstanden. Durch verzerrte Zeit und schummrigen Dunst ist Space Afrika zweifellos angekommen

Seit ihrer Gründung im Jahr 2016 haben die Londoner High Vis ihre Palette an progressivem Hardcore mit Nuancen von Post-Punk, Brit-Pop, Neopsychedelia und sogar Madchester-Groove verfeinert und einen Mittelweg zwischen Hooks und Wut, Melodien und Moshpits gefunden. Sänger Graham Sayle beschreibt ihr drittes Album Guided Tour als eine Achse der konkurrierenden Kräfte: "Es versucht, eine hoffnungsvolle Platte zu sein, während es gleichzeitig wütend macht." Die Band, die von Schlagzeuger Edward 'Ski' Harper, Bassist Jack Muncaster und den Gitarristen Martin MacNamara und Rob Hammaren komplettiert wird, ist tief in der britischen und irischen DIY-Hardcore-Szene verwurzelt und wird von Rastlosigkeit und rechtschaffener Wut gleichermaßen inspiriert. Die 11 Songs des Albums umfassen das gesamte Spektrum zeitgenössischer Gitarrenmusik, die durch Erfahrung, Kameradschaft und gesellschaftliche Frustrationen geschärft wurde. Von schwungvollem Streetpunk ("Drop Me Out", "Mob DLA") über schrillen Indie-Spott ("Worth The Wait", "Deserve It") bis hin zu Heavy Alt ("Feeling Bless", "Fill The Gap") und shoegazeartigem Spoken Word ("Untethered") - die Chemie der Gruppe verwandelt jeden Stil in ihre einzigartige Intensität.

Dass Death Of Lovers das Potenzial für mehr als ihre bislang einzige EP "Buried Under A World Of Roses" haben, war schon 2014 bei der Veröffentlichung unverkennbar. Die Frage war eher, wann kommt die Band aus Philadelphia, die seitdem mehr oder weniger permanent auf Tour ist, endlich dazu, ihr erstes Album aufzunehmen? "The Acrobat" besticht mit glitzernden Shoegaze-Gitarren, wavigen Rhythmen und konzentrierten, durchdachten und atemberaubend schönen Melodien. Die Stücke zeichnen sich durch eine einladende Komplexität und Tiefe aus, die Stimmung ist immer funkelnd und spannend und bietet einen schönen Kontrast zu den ehrlichen und dunklen Texten. "The Acrobat" erreicht eine warme Vertrautheit und klingt doch völlig neu. Und obwohl die Titel leicht aus dem Soundtrack zu jedem Lieblingsfilme der 80er-Jahre stammen könnten, gibt es eine neue Perspektive und eine Weiterentwicklung, die das "Post-Punk"-Reglement neu schreibt.

Dass Death Of Lovers das Potenzial für mehr als ihre bislang einzige EP "Buried Under A World Of Roses" haben, war schon 2014 bei der Veröffentlichung unverkennbar. Die Frage war eher, wann kommt die Band aus Philadelphia, die seitdem mehr oder weniger permanent auf Tour ist, endlich dazu, ihr erstes Album aufzunehmen? "The Acrobat" besticht mit glitzernden Shoegaze-Gitarren, wavigen Rhythmen und konzentrierten, durchdachten und atemberaubend schönen Melodien. Die Stücke zeichnen sich durch eine einladende Komplexität und Tiefe aus, die Stimmung ist immer funkelnd und spannend und bietet einen schönen Kontrast zu den ehrlichen und dunklen Texten. "The Acrobat" erreicht eine warme Vertrautheit und klingt doch völlig neu. Und obwohl die Titel leicht aus dem Soundtrack zu jedem Lieblingsfilme der 80er-Jahre stammen könnten, gibt es eine neue Perspektive und eine Weiterentwicklung, die das "Post-Punk"-Reglement neu schreibt.

ADULT. kooperiert nicht. Seit über 25 Jahren verkörpert die dystopische Detroit-Synth-Punk-Institution, gegründet von Nicola Kuperus und Adam Lee Miller, unbeirrbare Frustration, Misstrauen und Beklemmung. Man könnte erwarten, dass sich die Kanten mit der Zeit abschleifen, doch ADULT. hat kein Interesse am Komfort eines Vermächtnisses. Noch nie klang die Musik des Duos so unmittelbar, so dringlich und so unverhohlen wütend wie auf dem abschließenden, kompromisslosen Kissing Luck Goodbye.Mit aufgerüstetem Equipment und einer neuen Klangbibliothek gebaut, ist das Material erdrückend dynamisch, lauter - und zugleich klarer. Kuperus' dominante Darbietung rückt im Mix stärker in den Vordergrund und skizziert ein Arsenal aus lebhaften, ätzenden Rufen, Sprechchören und Gedankensplittern. Lachen - ob in den Texten oder als besessene Präsenz - fungiert als Leitmotiv und verweist auf die bedrohliche Absurdität der modernen Zeit.,THE CHAOS IS WHAT THEY WANT", singt sie in ,R U 4 $ALE" - zugleich eine Absichtserklärung: einer brennenden Welt aus Gier und Unordnung mit trotzigem, meisterhaft zusammengebautem Chaos zu begegnen. ,Du hast in dieser Höllenlandschaft, in der wir gerade leben, zwei Möglichkeiten: kämpfen oder depressiv sein", sagt Miller. ,Beides ist okay. Aber, na ja, die Entscheidung war einfach."ADULT. ist bekannt für hochriskante Katharsis auf der Bühne und griff kürzlich auf seinen Backkatalog an Bassgitarren-Songs aus den 2000ern zurück, wobei sie die vorausschauende Anxiety Always-Ära erneut nachzeichneten - teils aus Notwendigkeit angesichts der heutigen politischen und technologischen Angsttemperatur. Die Reaktion war sofort spürbar: ,Wir waren in Paris, und die Kids sind von der Bühne gesprungen. Und ich dachte nur: Das ist großartig. Das ist irgendwie die Energie, in die ich wieder zurückwill", sagt Kuperus.Diese Erkenntnis fiel mit einer Reihe von Rückschlägen zusammen - Kuperus' Anfällen von chronischem Schwindel, dem Verlust ihres engen Freundes und Kollaborateurs Douglas McCarthy von Nitzer Ebb, dem das Album gewidmet ist - alles unter dem drohenden Regime noch einmal erheblich verschärft. ,Wir dachten nur: Alles zerbricht. Wir zerbrechen. Wir sind kaputt." Dieses Gefühl hielt jedoch nicht an, denn letztlich waren sie viel zu sehr von Wut aufgeladen, um stillzuhalten. Die Stimmung vor Kissing Luck Goodbye waren vier Mittelfinger, die kerzengerade nach oben zeigten.Anstatt sich zurückzuziehen, konzentrierten sie sich auf den Prozess und überarbeiteten ihr Setup - inklusive der ersten neuen Mikrofone seit 20 Jahren. Hält man das Album an irgendeiner Stelle an, zählt man wahrscheinlich ein Dutzend Dinge, die gleichzeitig passieren, in seltsamer, schwindelerregender und dissonanter Harmonie. ,No One Is Coming" attackiert Untätigkeit angesichts des Faschismus - ,NO ONE IS COMING TO YOUR RESCUE". ,None of It's Fun" feuert mit atemloser Dringlichkeit, rasenden Glissandi und pointierten Zeilen wie: ,OH I AM TEARING MY GUTS OUT / LOOK AT ME_ DO YOU THINK THAT THIS IS AMUSING?"Eine geradlinige Basslinie und Kickdrum prallen im Abschlusstrack ,Destroyers" auf pulsierende Mantras, werden dann vollständig gesättigt und kakophonisch. Ihre jüngeren Ichs hätten den Song vielleicht sich selbst zerstören lassen, doch hier gelang es ihnen, die Lautstärke durch alle Extreme hindurch zu stabilisieren und Raum für ein eindringliches, abschließendes A-cappella zu schaffen: WE PAY THE PRICE FOR THOSE IN POWER EXPLOITING YOU EXPLOITING ME CONSUMING YOU CONSUMING ME SICK SICK SICK SICKENING IT IS US THAT ARE DEVOURED BY EVERYTHING I WILL EAT YOUR HATE

Since first forming in 2016, London's High Vis have steadily polished their palette of progressive hardcore with shades of post-punk, Brit pop, neo-psychedelia, and even Madchester groove, mapping a middle ground between hooks and fury, melodies and mosh pits. Singer Graham Sayle describes their third album 'Guided Tour' as an axis of competing forces: "It's trying to be a hopeful record, while also being incensed." Rounded out by drummer Edward 'Ski' Harper, guitarists Martin MacNamara and Rob Hammaren, and bassist Jack Muncaster, the band's deep roots in the UK and Irish DIY hardcore scenes have kept them grounded but growing, inspired equally by restlessness and righteous anger. As Sayle puts it, "Everyone's scratching, everyone's working all the time, and their idea of relaxing is just getting fucked and avoiding reality. This album is an escape from that."From its opening seconds of a cab door slamming, a car revving away, and a baggy rhythm swinging to life, 'Guided Tour' sounds like a band reaching for new heights, bristling with energy. Recorded across a few weeks at Holy Mountain Studios in London with producer Jonah Falco and engineer Stanley Gravett, the results feel dynamic and dialed-in, like anthems burned into sense memory through sweat and repetition. Harper cuts to the chase: "We had a clear idea going in, every moment got used. Maybe when we're 60 we can sit around and get a drum sound right, but for now it's about getting things done."The album's 11 songs span the spectrum of contemporary guitar music, sharpened by experience, camaraderie, and societal frustrations. From swaggering street punk ("Drop Me Out," "Mob DLA") to jangling indie sneer ("Worth The Wait," "Deserve It") to heavy alt ("Feeling Bless," "Fill The Gap") to shoegazey spoken word ("Untethered"), the group's chemistry transmutes any style to their unique intensity. Sayle champions this evolving fusion: "For years coming from hardcore, we had pretty clear boundaries - other scenes were separate worlds. Now things are getting more blended, drawing from different places."Nowhere is this sentiment flexed more boldly than on "Mind's A Lie," a dance- punk anthem inspired by Harper's love of house, garage, and pirate radio. Stabs of sampled female vocals (by celebrated South London singer and DJ Ell Murphy) build into a razor wire rhythm of low-slung bass, tense drums, and sparkling guitar before Sayle's staunch voice starts barking harsh truths ("Face to face with all I've known / I can't call these thoughts my own"). After a sudden breakdown, the track regroups and takes off, cruising into the horizon in a haze of chiming guitars and Murphy's ascendant voice, from the streets to somewhere beyond.

Carnivalfinds the Fort Worth trauma ray captures some of their strongest, most intense, and exploratory work within the boundaries of a whirlwind year. The breakout success of Chameleon, their 2024 debut on Dais Records, further established the band amidst the current wave of shoegaze revivalists, yet increasingly agile, able to weave between scenes, touring throughout 2025 with the likes of Deafheaven, Loathe, and TouchéAmoré. A confluence of blitzing riffs and stark beauty, theirsound continues to evolve, nodding to loud-quiet-loud greats across metal, grunge, and shoegaze from Slowdive to Smashing Pumpkins. Carnival delves into moodier, more cerebral material, like holding theirpast excursions against a funhouse mirror. There's a distinct sense ofunease in these songs, built as a band in a fleeting window of time, proving they work best under pressure and when pulling from thedarkest corners of their subconscious. The wordless "Carousel" ushers in the EP's unsettling atmosphere withblasts of static and downcast strums giving way to "Hannibal", ananthemic track packed with power riffs and raw emotion. The band has hit this kind of sheer power before, from 2018's "Solstice" to Chameleon's title track, while "Hannibal" contorts with a tinge ofunprecedented evil, slithery, "Stone Temple-y, Alice in Chains-y," Avilaquips. Lyrically, he taps into teenage angst, the feeling of beingdissected and rejected.

Carnivalfinds the Fort Worth trauma ray captures some of their strongest, most intense, and exploratory work within the boundaries of a whirlwind year. The breakout success of Chameleon, their 2024 debut on Dais Records, further established the band amidst the current wave of shoegaze revivalists, yet increasingly agile, able to weave between scenes, touring throughout 2025 with the likes of Deafheaven, Loathe, and TouchéAmoré. A confluence of blitzing riffs and stark beauty, theirsound continues to evolve, nodding to loud-quiet-loud greats across metal, grunge, and shoegaze from Slowdive to Smashing Pumpkins. Carnival delves into moodier, more cerebral material, like holding theirpast excursions against a funhouse mirror. There's a distinct sense ofunease in these songs, built as a band in a fleeting window of time, proving they work best under pressure and when pulling from thedarkest corners of their subconscious. The wordless "Carousel" ushers in the EP's unsettling atmosphere withblasts of static and downcast strums giving way to "Hannibal", ananthemic track packed with power riffs and raw emotion. The band has hit this kind of sheer power before, from 2018's "Solstice" to Chameleon's title track, while "Hannibal" contorts with a tinge ofunprecedented evil, slithery, "Stone Temple-y, Alice in Chains-y," Avilaquips. Lyrically, he taps into teenage angst, the feeling of beingdissected and rejected.

Begging Dog ist das Indie-Punk-Projekt des in Los Angeles ansässigen Künstlers Jeff Kleinman. Als Ventil für seine Arbeit außerhalb der Band Choir Boy widmet sich Kleinman bei Begging Dog einem rohen, hausgemachten Sound mit Anklängen an Garage Punk und einer einfachen Sprache in den Texten. DEMO 1 ist 26 Minuten lang und voller rollender Bass- und Synthesizer-Linien, charismatischer Riffs und motorischer Drum-Beats. Textlich zeichnen die Songs eine Reihe von Beobachtungen, Szenen und Charakteren aus dem Leben: einen aufdringlichen Gewerkschaftsvertreter, einen Postboten mit einem festen Job bei der Bundesbehörde, einen zwanghaften Spieler und einen geliebten Obdachlosen aus der Nachbarschaft. Ehemalige Liebschaften werden zu einer Collage zusammengefügt, die mehrere Tracks begleitet, aus dem Zusammenhang gerissen, mit unverblümten, scharfsinnigen freien Versen. Kleinman nennt Bruce Springsteen als Inspiration dafür, wie seine Songs mit schlichter Tinte geschrieben sind, wobei er direkte Einfachheit gegenüber blumiger Prosa bevorzugt. Er greift eine gemeinsame Einsamkeit auf, die sowohl universell als auch vielleicht besonders einzigartig für das Leben in Los Angeles ist, mit schnörkellosen Nuancen und Verletzlichkeit. Im Titelsong singt Kleinman: ,Niemand liebt einen bettelnden Hund", eine Zeile, die er von einem Freund übernommen hat und die die Sichtweise des Projekts verkörpert: Die Welt kann einem das Gefühl geben, ein bettelnder Hund auf der Suche nach einem Zuhause zu sein. Auf dem Titelsong singt Kleinman ,no one loves a begging dog" (niemand liebt einen bettelnden Hund) in einer Zeile ,die er von einem Freund übernommen hat und die die Sichtweise des Projekts verkörpert: Die Welt kann einem das Gefühl geben, ein bettelnder Hund auf der Suche nach Zuneigung und Sicherheit zu sein, aber es liegt auch Schönheit in der Einsamkeit und der summenden Monotonie des Ganzen. Der synthlastige Titel ,Laughing Boy" reflektiert über den Sinn des Lebens, kritisiert hohe Mieten und erwähnt gleichzeitig den Duft von Jasminbäumen sowie die störende Präsenz der Polizei. In ,Common Place", umgeben von drängenden Drum-Machine-Kicks und Verzerrungen, singt er davon, wie er sich in einem 7-Eleven-Laden in der Innenstadt wirklich lebendig fühlt, um dann zwischen einer Tragödie, die er in einem Park miterlebt hat, und schönen Erinnerungen an das Leben in einer Wohngemeinschaft in Salt Lake City hin und her zu springen, bevor er sein neues Mantra verkündet: ,Es ist vorbei." Die Kontraste hier sind es, die diese Songs menschlich machen. Kleinman nahm DEMO 1 schnell und mit wenig mehr als sich selbst auf. Live übersetzt sich das dynamische Material von Begging Dog in eine siebenköpfige Band. Kleinman nahm DEMO 1 schnell und fast alleine auf. Live wird das dynamische Material von Begging Dog von einer siebenköpfigen Band umgesetzt. ,Egal, wie gut oder schlecht es einem geht, man sucht irgendwie nach etwas mehr", sagt Kleinman, ohne zu versuchen, eine größere Bedeutung in seiner Arbeit zu finden. ,Wenn ich über diese Dinge schreibe, versuche ich nicht, sie wichtiger zu machen, als sie sind." DEMO 1 profitiert von dieser geradlinigen, alltäglichen Bescheidenheit, die Offenheit mit Entschlossenheit und eingängigen Melodien verbindet.

Begging Dog ist das Indie-Punk-Projekt des in Los Angeles ansässigen Künstlers Jeff Kleinman. Als Ventil für seine Arbeit außerhalb der Band Choir Boy widmet sich Kleinman bei Begging Dog einem rohen, hausgemachten Sound mit Anklängen an Garage Punk und einer einfachen Sprache in den Texten. DEMO 1 ist 26 Minuten lang und voller rollender Bass- und Synthesizer-Linien, charismatischer Riffs und motorischer Drum-Beats. Textlich zeichnen die Songs eine Reihe von Beobachtungen, Szenen und Charakteren aus dem Leben: einen aufdringlichen Gewerkschaftsvertreter, einen Postboten mit einem festen Job bei der Bundesbehörde, einen zwanghaften Spieler und einen geliebten Obdachlosen aus der Nachbarschaft. Ehemalige Liebschaften werden zu einer Collage zusammengefügt, die mehrere Tracks begleitet, aus dem Zusammenhang gerissen, mit unverblümten, scharfsinnigen freien Versen. Kleinman nennt Bruce Springsteen als Inspiration dafür, wie seine Songs mit schlichter Tinte geschrieben sind, wobei er direkte Einfachheit gegenüber blumiger Prosa bevorzugt. Er greift eine gemeinsame Einsamkeit auf, die sowohl universell als auch vielleicht besonders einzigartig für das Leben in Los Angeles ist, mit schnörkellosen Nuancen und Verletzlichkeit. Im Titelsong singt Kleinman: ,Niemand liebt einen bettelnden Hund", eine Zeile, die er von einem Freund übernommen hat und die die Sichtweise des Projekts verkörpert: Die Welt kann einem das Gefühl geben, ein bettelnder Hund auf der Suche nach einem Zuhause zu sein. Auf dem Titelsong singt Kleinman ,no one loves a begging dog" (niemand liebt einen bettelnden Hund) in einer Zeile ,die er von einem Freund übernommen hat und die die Sichtweise des Projekts verkörpert: Die Welt kann einem das Gefühl geben, ein bettelnder Hund auf der Suche nach Zuneigung und Sicherheit zu sein, aber es liegt auch Schönheit in der Einsamkeit und der summenden Monotonie des Ganzen. Der synthlastige Titel ,Laughing Boy" reflektiert über den Sinn des Lebens, kritisiert hohe Mieten und erwähnt gleichzeitig den Duft von Jasminbäumen sowie die störende Präsenz der Polizei. In ,Common Place", umgeben von drängenden Drum-Machine-Kicks und Verzerrungen, singt er davon, wie er sich in einem 7-Eleven-Laden in der Innenstadt wirklich lebendig fühlt, um dann zwischen einer Tragödie, die er in einem Park miterlebt hat, und schönen Erinnerungen an das Leben in einer Wohngemeinschaft in Salt Lake City hin und her zu springen, bevor er sein neues Mantra verkündet: ,Es ist vorbei." Die Kontraste hier sind es, die diese Songs menschlich machen. Kleinman nahm DEMO 1 schnell und mit wenig mehr als sich selbst auf. Live übersetzt sich das dynamische Material von Begging Dog in eine siebenköpfige Band. Kleinman nahm DEMO 1 schnell und fast alleine auf. Live wird das dynamische Material von Begging Dog von einer siebenköpfigen Band umgesetzt. ,Egal, wie gut oder schlecht es einem geht, man sucht irgendwie nach etwas mehr", sagt Kleinman, ohne zu versuchen, eine größere Bedeutung in seiner Arbeit zu finden. ,Wenn ich über diese Dinge schreibe, versuche ich nicht, sie wichtiger zu machen, als sie sind." DEMO 1 profitiert von dieser geradlinigen, alltäglichen Bescheidenheit, die Offenheit mit Entschlossenheit und eingängigen Melodien verbindet.

Founded in Cologne, Germany in 1985, Pink Turns Blue's blend of atmospheric pop informed by European post-punk contemporaries and buzzing punk dissonance of Hüsker Dü (the band is named after the Zen Arcade song) immediately tapped into a new canon of sound that was foundational to the emergence of darkwave. Released in 1987 and now remastered by Josh Bonati for vinyl release through Dais, If Two Worlds Kiss is a seminal offering to the canon of dark wave's DNA - a liquid lesson in melody, mood, and pacing - each track continuously adding to the journey like a unique push pin on a map of melancholy. Defined by their dynamic song-writing, their debut added a new urgency and depth to guitar-driven gothic rock by allowing fast songs such as the lead single "Walking on Both Sides" to possess the same sullen punch and melancholy as slower anthems like "When the Hammer Comes Down", which derives its power on the downbeat. More rhythmic variety is added through beat-driven dancefloor tracks with triumphant singalong choruses like "That Was You", showing they could swing hard - as well as swirl_

Clear Red Vinyl. In den späten 1990er Jahren zog Peter ,Sleazy" Christopherson mit Jhonn Balance - seinem Lebens- und Coil-Partner - von London ins ländliche Weston-super-Mare, und schuf ein Umfeld für alles, was ,musick, musick, musick!" heißt, mit einer wechselnden Mitgliedern, darunter Thighpaulsandra. Coil's Coil verdoppelte sich fast, und inmitten dieser fruchtbaren Zeit stellte Thighpaulsandra die einfache Frage: Warum spielt Coil nicht live? Nach einer 16 Jahren Wartezeit, dank des rasanten technischen Fortschritts in Form von MacBooks, DAWs, VSTs und Plug-ins waren Coil in der Lage, ihre Musik auf die Bühne zu bringen, wie sie es sich immer vorgestellt hatten. Mit der Performance konnten sie die Risiken und Freiheiten der Echtzeit-Klangmanipulation, wie Sleazy anmerkt: ,Die Show wird Minute für Minute umgestaltet die Show Minute für Minute... die Richtung ist sehr spontan, nicht so sehr in Jazz-Improvisation, sondern in einer Art Bewusstseinsstrom - Thighpaulsandra brachte uns seine Weisheit, und er konnte uns überzeugen, dass wir es schaffen konnten." Wenn Coil live spielten, waren sie, wie eine Schlange, die sich häutet" alle sechs Monate in etwas völlig anderes; in der Vorbereitung auf das 2004er "Even an Evil Fatigue"-Liveserie vorbereiteten, begannen Coil mit der Arbeit an ihrem nächsten, die Zeit definierenden Meisterwerk Black Antlers. Black Antlers zeigt die späte Coil-Periode: reduzierter, straffer und schlanker. Die Musik wurde rhythmischer, mit einer größeren Betonung auf Beats: ,Die Songs, die wir gemacht haben, sind eher... nicht Rock im eigentlichen Sinne, aber du weißt schon, konventioneller in Bezug auf die Struktur, aber jetzt ist das, was wir tun, eine Art elektronischen' Genre." Der Sound von Black Antlers ist eine mitreißende Energie, die Thighpaulsandras fortschrittliche Synthese, Balances poetische Lyrik und Christophersons Flirten mit Jazz und Ableton-gestütztem PowerBook Maximalismus. Vervollständigt wurde das Trio durch den renommierten Drehleierspieler Cliff Stapleton auf einer ,speziell in Auftrag gegebenen" elektrischen Variante, die sich in die ,seltsame und weltfremde Musik" der Band zu integrieren; der an der Royal Academy of Music ausgebildete Perkussionist Tom Edwards (der auch mit Thighpaulsandra in der der Live-Band von Spiritualized auftrat); und der Spezialist für europäische und nahöstliche Blasinstrumente Mike York an Pfeifen, Bombarde, Duduk und Balalaika.

Im Sommer 1968 traf sich der 18-jährige Genesis P-Orridge (damals Neil Andrew Megson) mit Freunden in einem bescheidenen Dachgeschoss, um mit Klängen zu experimentieren. Das Ergebnis war "Early Worm", eine Sammlung von Aufnahmen, die die aufkeimende Kreativität eines Künstlers einfing, der später eine Schlüsselfigur der Avantgarde-Musik werden sollte. Diese Sessions, die 1969 auf ein einziges Acetat gepresst wurden, zeigen eine furchtlose Erforschung von Geräuschen, Improvisationen und Tonbandexperimenten, die Einflüsse von Psychedelia, Fluxus, John Cage und Beatnik Bohemia widerspiegeln. "Early Worm" ist ein Zeugnis für P-Orridges frühes Engagement, musikalische Grenzen zu überschreiten. Die rohen und ungefilterten Klanglandschaften des Albums bieten dem Hörer einen seltenen Einblick in die Gründungsmomente, die schließlich zur Gründung von COUM Transmissions, Throbbing Gristle und Psychic TV führen sollten. Remastered und in einer limitierten Vinyl-Pressung, mit Linernotes geschrieben von Genesis Breyer P-Orridge, die den Zeitgeist des UK Undergrounds der späten 60er Jahre in Erinnerung rufen. "If nothing else, (Early Worm) revealed that P-Orridge's approach to music was defiantly left-field from the start: noise, improvisations and tape experiments that sounded a little like a more chaotic version psychedelic folkies the Incredible String Band." . The Guardian

The latest by Andrew Clinco's acid punk alias VR SEX takes its title from an architectural phrase but more importantly refers to the warped, wicked underworld the songs both chronicle and condemn. Donning the moniker Noel Skum - an acerbic anagram of Elon Musk - Clinco vents his scorn for and fascination with the seedy, surreal margins of low-life Los Angeles, doomed to dead ends of vanity, lust, and technology. Although initially launched as an outlet for "heavier sounds" beyond Clinco's duties in new wave fantasists Drab Majesty, the project has ripened into a compelling exercise in world building, weaving themes of gritty city neofuturist sleaze within a framework of driving, distorted guitars and cathode-blasted synths. Echoes of Chrome, Wire, Minimal Man, and Sisters Of Mercy ripple through the collection but ultimately Rough Dimension charts its own twisted vision of "our unforgiving reality." Written and demoed across two weeks alone in a Marseille flat using his prized 1980's Gibson "Invader" and a laptop, Clinco then took the tracks to Strange Weather studios in Brooklyn to record with Ben Greenberg (Uniform, The Men) who helmed 2019's debut, Human Traffic Jam. The results are notably ripping, refined, and riveting. Riffs in alternate tunings chug and churn over mid-tempo drums punctuated by spikes of sci-fi electronics while the vocals swagger and spit venom ("where we walk is also where we shit / but if we bark at our reflections are we hypocrites? / impulses bleed right into our seed / where hate culminates the apple rotted on the tree"). It's a bristling mix of the melodic and the macabre, absurdist observations of fast living and desperate measures, the clock of youth ticking towards midnight as dreams unravel in Babylon. VR SEX's specialty is making these cautionary tales of psychic decay and tainted love a thrill rather than a drag. There's a sunglasses at night glamor to Clinco's choruses and solos, a wit to his black leather judgements ("what is the answer / to cancerous people / walking in my line of sight?"). The music's milieu tends towards parasites and predators but its mood skews refreshingly accelerated and amused, cruising the strip with a cigarette, watching goths and limousines crawl in gridlock beneath digital billboards. The Rough Dimension may be a cesspool, but it's home.

In the smoggy orange light of a new millennium, the young Deb Demure would take the bus, once a week, from his home in crumbling Hollywood to his grandmother's apartment, nestled in the pastel pristineness of Beverly Hills. During these visits, Deb couldn't help but notice the disconnect between the glow of his grandmother's temple, and the downtrodden, alienated figures that populated the seats of the mass transit that took him there. Week after week, he would observe these characters: fading B-movie starlets, leisure-suited alcoholics and forgotten civil servants. But one fateful commute home, as the twilight waned to the purple Los Angeles night, he realized these figures were not as lost as they appeared - there was a nobility in their failure, reflective of the dignity of the city's vanishing golden era. They were survivors, in need of a voice: a spokesperson for every color of hope and hopelessness, transcendent of gender and time; Drab Majesty became Deb's musical podium for this undertaking. Raised in a music-centric household, Deb would find the time to teach himself to play his father's right-handed guitar upside down and left-handed; an unorthodox fashion from where his earliest understanding of chords and harmony were conceived. Exploring the bins of discarded vinyl in his neighborhood thrift stores, his toolkit expanded with the subterranean sonic gems of the recent past. Influences range from the virtuosic arpeggiated guitar work of Felt's Maurice Deebank and the grittier pop progressions of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry's Chris Reed as well as Steve Severin from Siouxsie and The Banshees. He also studied the harmonic oscillations and utilization of the occult power of vibratory frequency present in New Age sounds of Greek artist, IASOS. In terms of orchestration, he consciously culls from the seaside maximalism of Martin Dupont and mechanized grooves of early Depeche Mode. Like a dualistic pendulum, his vocals swing from a preistly baritone to a choir boy's falsetto reflecting the sepulchral ambiance of church visits with his grandmother. Currently the drummer for Los Angeles lo-fi rock ensemble Marriages and having honed an unorthodox home recording style, Deb sources his sounds from a repository of "mid-fi" synthesizers and other lesser-quality instruments. Following the release of his debut cassette EP, "Unarian Dances", he also shared a split 12" with synth pop forefathers, Eleven Pond. During the Spring of 2015, Drab Majesty signed with Dais Records and released his first single, Unknown to the I, as a introduction for his first initial foray into the album format, romantically titled Careless. Written over the course of 2 years, "Careless" is a compendium of songs that have outlasted a malicious burglary of his studio, his struggles with substance addiction, and most recently, the death of his beloved grandmother.

In the smoggy orange light of a new millennium, the young Deb Demure would take the bus, once a week, from his home in crumbling Hollywood to his grandmother's apartment, nestled in the pastel pristineness of Beverly Hills. During these visits, Deb couldn't help but notice the disconnect between the glow of his grandmother's temple, and the downtrodden, alienated figures that populated the seats of the mass transit that took him there. Week after week, he would observe these characters: fading B-movie starlets, leisure-suited alcoholics and forgotten civil servants. But one fateful commute home, as the twilight waned to the purple Los Angeles night, he realized these figures were not as lost as they appeared - there was a nobility in their failure, reflective of the dignity of the city's vanishing golden era. They were survivors, in need of a voice: a spokesperson for every color of hope and hopelessness, transcendent of gender and time; Drab Majesty became Deb's musical podium for this undertaking. Raised in a music-centric household, Deb would find the time to teach himself to play his father's right-handed guitar upside down and left-handed; an unorthodox fashion from where his earliest understanding of chords and harmony were conceived. Exploring the bins of discarded vinyl in his neighborhood thrift stores, his toolkit expanded with the subterranean sonic gems of the recent past. Influences range from the virtuosic arpeggiated guitar work of Felt's Maurice Deebank and the grittier pop progressions of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry's Chris Reed as well as Steve Severin from Siouxsie and The Banshees. He also studied the harmonic oscillations and utilization of the occult power of vibratory frequency present in New Age sounds of Greek artist, IASOS. In terms of orchestration, he consciously culls from the seaside maximalism of Martin Dupont and mechanized grooves of early Depeche Mode. Like a dualistic pendulum, his vocals swing from a preistly baritone to a choir boy's falsetto reflecting the sepulchral ambiance of church visits with his grandmother. Currently the drummer for Los Angeles lo-fi rock ensemble Marriages and having honed an unorthodox home recording style, Deb sources his sounds from a repository of "mid-fi" synthesizers and other lesser-quality instruments. Following the release of his debut cassette EP, "Unarian Dances", he also shared a split 12" with synth pop forefathers, Eleven Pond. During the Spring of 2015, Drab Majesty signed with Dais Records and released his first single, Unknown to the I, as a introduction for his first initial foray into the album format, romantically titled Careless. Written over the course of 2 years, "Careless" is a compendium of songs that have outlasted a malicious burglary of his studio, his struggles with substance addiction, and most recently, the death of his beloved grandmother.

In the smoggy orange light of a new millennium, the young Deb Demure would take the bus, once a week, from his home in crumbling Hollywood to his grandmother's apartment, nestled in the pastel pristineness of Beverly Hills. During these visits, Deb couldn't help but notice the disconnect between the glow of his grandmother's temple, and the downtrodden, alienated figures that populated the seats of the mass transit that took him there. Week after week, he would observe these characters: fading B-movie starlets, leisure-suited alcoholics and forgotten civil servants. But one fateful commute home, as the twilight waned to the purple Los Angeles night, he realized these figures were not as lost as they appeared - there was a nobility in their failure, reflective of the dignity of the city's vanishing golden era. They were survivors, in need of a voice: a spokesperson for every color of hope and hopelessness, transcendent of gender and time; Drab Majesty became Deb's musical podium for this undertaking. Raised in a music-centric household, Deb would find the time to teach himself to play his father's right-handed guitar upside down and left-handed; an unorthodox fashion from where his earliest understanding of chords and harmony were conceived. Exploring the bins of discarded vinyl in his neighborhood thrift stores, his toolkit expanded with the subterranean sonic gems of the recent past. Influences range from the virtuosic arpeggiated guitar work of Felt's Maurice Deebank and the grittier pop progressions of Red Lorry Yellow Lorry's Chris Reed as well as Steve Severin from Siouxsie and The Banshees. He also studied the harmonic oscillations and utilization of the occult power of vibratory frequency present in New Age sounds of Greek artist, IASOS. In terms of orchestration, he consciously culls from the seaside maximalism of Martin Dupont and mechanized grooves of early Depeche Mode. Like a dualistic pendulum, his vocals swing from a preistly baritone to a choir boy's falsetto reflecting the sepulchral ambiance of church visits with his grandmother. Currently the drummer for Los Angeles lo-fi rock ensemble Marriages and having honed an unorthodox home recording style, Deb sources his sounds from a repository of "mid-fi" synthesizers and other lesser-quality instruments. Following the release of his debut cassette EP, "Unarian Dances", he also shared a split 12" with synth pop forefathers, Eleven Pond. During the Spring of 2015, Drab Majesty signed with Dais Records and released his first single, Unknown to the I, as a introduction for his first initial foray into the album format, romantically titled Careless. Written over the course of 2 years, "Careless" is a compendium of songs that have outlasted a malicious burglary of his studio, his struggles with substance addiction, and most recently, the death of his beloved grandmother.

LTD. CLEAR BLUE VINYL

New York painter and musician exploratory industrialist Tor Lundvall initially envisioned his 14th album, Beautiful Illusions, as an entirely instrumental affair, "inspired by memories of sitting in a church or cathedral watching the shifting sunlight through stained glass." Although he ultimately chose to wreath the majority of the tracks with hushed, poetic vocals, his original muse still resonates. These are certainly songs of shadowplay and vaulted skies, the quiet grandeur of dusk deepening on the horizon. Lundvall characterizes the lyrical subject matter, too, in ways both specific and surreal, exploring "the doubts, the anxieties and even the bleak fantasies the mind spirals into during moments of isolation, separation and distance." Tricks of the eye, mind, and ear, magnified by silence and the looming long winter. Shivering pulses and muted bass lines tread the twilight while icicle synths and wiry guitar map the melody until the voice enters, narrating oblique moods of essence and absence, tenderness and truth. Glimpses of dark humor flicker in the wordplay but the greater sonic landscape is one of falling leaves and failing light, small gestures rendered as revelation, cloaked in reverb and spatial fog. Lundvall's mastery of nuance and negative space continues to heighten, whispered brushstrokes of the invisible and the unsaid, what lies beneath and what lies beyond: "Behind the shields and false fronts is usually a sadness. The heartbreaking reflections of what might have been."

Cleaning Out The Empty Administration Building ist Ross Farrars neuestes Werk aus rohem, gesprochenem Wort und experimentellem Sounddesign, hier präsentiert unter dem Namen R.J.F.. Der Frontmann der amerikanischen Bands Ceremony und SPICE begann dieses Soloprojekt zunächst als persönliche Herausforderung: Songs von Grund auf selbst zu schreiben, sich mit Instrumenten vertraut zu machen und dabei zugleich sein Unterbewusstsein freizulegen. Dabei ging es weniger um musikalische Virtuosität als um Verletzlichkeit - darum, etwas Ehrliches aus einem ungeschützten, unbearbeiteten, unpolierten Moment zu ziehen, kompromisslos amateurhaft und rein.Diese Sammlung zeigt Farrar im offenen, poetischen Dialog: mit Drumloops und gefundenen Klängen, durchbrochen von Gitarren, Bass und Tasteninstrumenten. Nach über zwanzig Jahren in der vertrauten wie chaotischen Welt von Band-Kollaborationen, legt Farrar all das ab - als Experiment. Das Ergebnis ist unverwechselbar und bewegend.Farrars Punk-Pathos ist in Spuren vorhanden, doch seine deutlichsten Einflüsse stammen von repetitiven Musikformen: Drone, No-Wave, Avant-Jazz und darüber hinaus. Seine nüchternen Texte erinnern an Lou Reed, Rowland S. Howard und andere große Exzentriker. Farrars Texte kreisen um Liebe, Sucht, Vaterschaft und das Leben in der heutigen Welt. ,Ich wollte Bilder schaffen, die die Menschen klar vor sich sehen können", sagt er. Farrar unterrichtete früher Schreiben und Literatur - und wendet hier ein einfaches Prinzip an, das er auch seinen Schülern mitgab: Nicht zu viel nachdenken. ,Ich habe mir einfach gesagt: Diese Songs sollen Spaß machen. Sie sollen nicht stressig sein. Zwei, drei Takes aufnehmen und dann gut ist. Nicht über jedes Geräusch den Kopf zerbrechen. Mach einfach das, was natürlich aus dir herauskommt - und wenn es sich gut anfühlt, dann nimm es."Aus hunderten freier Songs, die Farrar in den letzten Jahren mit geliehenem Equipment aufgenommen hat, kristallisierte sich dieses Album langsam heraus. ,Es kam einfach immer wieder."Der Ton von Cleaning scheint die Zeit zu verbiegen, versetzt die Hörer in eine Art Gang voller Songs, bei denen jede Tür in einen neuen Raum führt - Räume, die oft auf unheimliche Weise vertraut wirken. Der gurgelnde Bass des Openers ,Advance" taucht auch in anderen Stücken wieder auf, etwa im gespenstischen ,Ovidian", benannt nach Ovids Metamorphosen, in dem Farrar über das Wunder der Veränderung sinniert - begleitet von fernen Glockenklängen. Instrumentalstücke wie ,Gravity Hill" - ein Flattern aus Synth-Brummen und statischem Rauschen - oder ,Frogs", mit Saiteninstrumenten und perkussivem Topfschlagen, wirken wie tranceartige Zwischenspiele und verstärken die Wirkung der Texte drumherum.,Exile" blickt zurück auf Verluste, die sich nicht mehr reparieren lassen: ,So much of your heart caught in my exile", singt Farrar mit sanfter Resignation - über einer einsamen Klaviermelodie und schlingernden Gitarrenakkorden. Es ist das strukturierteste Stück der Sammlung und erinnert daran, dass Farrar ein Gespür für melodische Linien besitzt.Das Album endet mit ,Traveling Light From Afar", deutlich schneller als alle vorherigen Songs. Hier, über einem stoischen Motorik-Beat, spricht Farrar das zentrale Thema des Projekts direkt an:,I've been so young in my old age / Selfish & self-pitying / But that's just narcissism - man."Genau dieser Balanceakt - zwischen schonungsloser Selbstbefragung und der Klarheit, die mit dem Älterwerden kommt - schafft Raum für Entwicklung. Farrar leert das Gebäude - Zeile für Zeile.

Cleaning Out The Empty Administration Building ist Ross Farrars neuestes Werk aus rohem, gesprochenem Wort und experimentellem Sounddesign, hier präsentiert unter dem Namen R.J.F.. Der Frontmann der amerikanischen Bands Ceremony und SPICE begann dieses Soloprojekt zunächst als persönliche Herausforderung: Songs von Grund auf selbst zu schreiben, sich mit Instrumenten vertraut zu machen und dabei zugleich sein Unterbewusstsein freizulegen. Dabei ging es weniger um musikalische Virtuosität als um Verletzlichkeit - darum, etwas Ehrliches aus einem ungeschützten, unbearbeiteten, unpolierten Moment zu ziehen, kompromisslos amateurhaft und rein.Diese Sammlung zeigt Farrar im offenen, poetischen Dialog: mit Drumloops und gefundenen Klängen, durchbrochen von Gitarren, Bass und Tasteninstrumenten. Nach über zwanzig Jahren in der vertrauten wie chaotischen Welt von Band-Kollaborationen, legt Farrar all das ab - als Experiment. Das Ergebnis ist unverwechselbar und bewegend.Farrars Punk-Pathos ist in Spuren vorhanden, doch seine deutlichsten Einflüsse stammen von repetitiven Musikformen: Drone, No-Wave, Avant-Jazz und darüber hinaus. Seine nüchternen Texte erinnern an Lou Reed, Rowland S. Howard und andere große Exzentriker. Farrars Texte kreisen um Liebe, Sucht, Vaterschaft und das Leben in der heutigen Welt. ,Ich wollte Bilder schaffen, die die Menschen klar vor sich sehen können", sagt er. Farrar unterrichtete früher Schreiben und Literatur - und wendet hier ein einfaches Prinzip an, das er auch seinen Schülern mitgab: Nicht zu viel nachdenken. ,Ich habe mir einfach gesagt: Diese Songs sollen Spaß machen. Sie sollen nicht stressig sein. Zwei, drei Takes aufnehmen und dann gut ist. Nicht über jedes Geräusch den Kopf zerbrechen. Mach einfach das, was natürlich aus dir herauskommt - und wenn es sich gut anfühlt, dann nimm es."Aus hunderten freier Songs, die Farrar in den letzten Jahren mit geliehenem Equipment aufgenommen hat, kristallisierte sich dieses Album langsam heraus. ,Es kam einfach immer wieder."Der Ton von Cleaning scheint die Zeit zu verbiegen, versetzt die Hörer in eine Art Gang voller Songs, bei denen jede Tür in einen neuen Raum führt - Räume, die oft auf unheimliche Weise vertraut wirken. Der gurgelnde Bass des Openers ,Advance" taucht auch in anderen Stücken wieder auf, etwa im gespenstischen ,Ovidian", benannt nach Ovids Metamorphosen, in dem Farrar über das Wunder der Veränderung sinniert - begleitet von fernen Glockenklängen. Instrumentalstücke wie ,Gravity Hill" - ein Flattern aus Synth-Brummen und statischem Rauschen - oder ,Frogs", mit Saiteninstrumenten und perkussivem Topfschlagen, wirken wie tranceartige Zwischenspiele und verstärken die Wirkung der Texte drumherum.,Exile" blickt zurück auf Verluste, die sich nicht mehr reparieren lassen: ,So much of your heart caught in my exile", singt Farrar mit sanfter Resignation - über einer einsamen Klaviermelodie und schlingernden Gitarrenakkorden. Es ist das strukturierteste Stück der Sammlung und erinnert daran, dass Farrar ein Gespür für melodische Linien besitzt.Das Album endet mit ,Traveling Light From Afar", deutlich schneller als alle vorherigen Songs. Hier, über einem stoischen Motorik-Beat, spricht Farrar das zentrale Thema des Projekts direkt an:,I've been so young in my old age / Selfish & self-pitying / But that's just narcissism - man."Genau dieser Balanceakt - zwischen schonungsloser Selbstbefragung und der Klarheit, die mit dem Älterwerden kommt - schafft Raum für Entwicklung. Farrar leert das Gebäude - Zeile für Zeile.

Im Sommer 1968 traf sich der 18-jährige Genesis P-Orridge (damals Neil Andrew Megson) mit Freunden in einem bescheidenen Dachgeschoss, um mit Klängen zu experimentieren. Das Ergebnis war "Early Worm", eine Sammlung von Aufnahmen, die die aufkeimende Kreativität eines Künstlers einfing, der später eine Schlüsselfigur der Avantgarde-Musik werden sollte. Diese Sessions, die 1969 auf ein einziges Acetat gepresst wurden, zeigen eine furchtlose Erforschung von Geräuschen, Improvisationen und Tonbandexperimenten, die Einflüsse von Psychedelia, Fluxus, John Cage und Beatnik Bohemia widerspiegeln. "Early Worm" ist ein Zeugnis für P-Orridges frühes Engagement, musikalische Grenzen zu überschreiten. Die rohen und ungefilterten Klanglandschaften des Albums bieten dem Hörer einen seltenen Einblick in die Gründungsmomente, die schließlich zur Gründung von COUM Transmissions, Throbbing Gristle und Psychic TV führen sollten. Remastered und in einer limitierten Vinyl-Pressung, mit Linernotes geschrieben von Genesis Breyer P-Orridge, die den Zeitgeist des UK Undergrounds der späten 60er Jahre in Erinnerung rufen. "If nothing else, (Early Worm) revealed that P-Orridge's approach to music was defiantly left-field from the start: noise, improvisations and tape experiments that sounded a little like a more chaotic version psychedelic folkies the Incredible String Band." . The Guardian

Im Sommer 1968 traf sich der 18-jährige Genesis P-Orridge (damals Neil Andrew Megson) mit Freunden in einem bescheidenen Dachgeschoss, um mit Klängen zu experimentieren. Das Ergebnis war "Early Worm", eine Sammlung von Aufnahmen, die die aufkeimende Kreativität eines Künstlers einfing, der später eine Schlüsselfigur der Avantgarde-Musik werden sollte. Diese Sessions, die 1969 auf ein einziges Acetat gepresst wurden, zeigen eine furchtlose Erforschung von Geräuschen, Improvisationen und Tonbandexperimenten, die Einflüsse von Psychedelia, Fluxus, John Cage und Beatnik Bohemia widerspiegeln. "Early Worm" ist ein Zeugnis für P-Orridges frühes Engagement, musikalische Grenzen zu überschreiten. Die rohen und ungefilterten Klanglandschaften des Albums bieten dem Hörer einen seltenen Einblick in die Gründungsmomente, die schließlich zur Gründung von COUM Transmissions, Throbbing Gristle und Psychic TV führen sollten. Remastered und in einer limitierten Vinyl-Pressung, mit Linernotes geschrieben von Genesis Breyer P-Orridge, die den Zeitgeist des UK Undergrounds der späten 60er Jahre in Erinnerung rufen. "If nothing else, (Early Worm) revealed that P-Orridge's approach to music was defiantly left-field from the start: noise, improvisations and tape experiments that sounded a little like a more chaotic version psychedelic folkies the Incredible String Band." . The Guardian

The latest EP from Drab Majesty marks the start of a stirring new chapter in the band's majestic legacy. Written during a 2021 retreat to the remote coastal Oregon town of Yachats, Deb Demure leaned into the neo-psychedelic resonance of a uniquely bowl-shaped 12-string Ovation acoustic/electric guitar. After early morning hikes in the rain, Deb would record ambient guitar experiments the rest of the day, tapping into "flow states," letting the sound lead the way. These sessions were then refined or recreated, and later elevated further with key collaborations by Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Justin Meldal-Johnson (Beck, M83, Air), and Ben Greenberg (Uniform, Circular Ruin Studio). An Object In Motion is true to its title, capturing the chrysalis moment of an artist evolving, reborn and untethered, silhouetted against an open horizon."Cape Perpetua" kicks off the collection's divergent palette: sparkling acoustic finger-picking refracted through delay, equal parts raga and reverie. Melodies and moods congeal and dissipate, at the threshold of rustic American primitivism, brooding neo-folk, and pastoral melancholia. "The Skin And The Glove" deploys jangle to different effect - baggy, soaring, grey-skied kaleidoscopic pop in the spirit of Stone Roses, Primal Scream, and The Glove. Rachel Goswell lends her iconic freefall voice to The Cure-esque ballad, "Vanity," infusing poetic gravity to the doomed refrain: "If the valve breaks / then the earth quakes / and history finds a way / to put you in your place.""Yield To Force", the closing track of the EP, may be the most anomalous offering of the set. A 15-minute instrumental odyssey of cyclical strings, ominous slide guitar, and simmering synthesizer, the piece sways and spirals like a long zoom into distant storm clouds. Demure finesses the guitar with a restless but regal grandeur, unfolding a panorama of peaks, shadows, and plateaus. It's music both intuitive and prophetic, tracing the slow swing of pendulums across an endless plain. Taken as a whole, An Object In Motion presents a showcase of potential futures from Drab's evolving domain, their sound poised to bloom at the precipice of transformation.

Riki is the Los Angeles based dark synth-pop outfit commandeered by the mysterious Niff Nawor, a visual artist and musician active in the deathrock / anarcho-punk scenes of the California bay area (formerly a member of Crimson Scarlet), before founding her solo endeavor as Riki in 2017. Niff's desire to explore her own sound manifested in the recording of the Hot City cassette tape in 2017, which featured Chelsey Crowley of Crimson Scarlet, Skot Brown of Phantom Limbs and Pedaof Doomed to Extinction. Released on Commodity Tapes and later reissued on vinyl by the well-regarded Symphony of Destruction label, Riki followed the release of the single with several small tours and festival dates, performing with such acts as Light Asylum, Black Marble, and Trisomie 21.For her self-titled debut album for Dais, Riki explores courage, physicality, and romance across eight timeless synth pop anthems. Produced and engineered by hardware-based synthesist Matia Simovich of INHALT, influences and ideas are worn proudly without deviating from fresh and daring electro-pop territory. Nostalgic cues can be heard ranging from Neue Deutsch Welle, early Adrian Sherwood productions, classic ZYX Italo Disco, Japanese Visual Kei and even classic new wave/pop like Pat Benatar, Kate Bush, and early Madonna.The lead single, Napoleon, contains Riki's indelible sound design, reminiscent of 80's New York dance floor electro-pop that recalls the fusion of uptown and downtown styles and culture, told through Riki's present day West Coast narrative. For contrast, the second single entitled Böse Lügen (Body Mix) was previously released in demo form and re-mixed to emphasize its commanding presence and addictive nature. Translated simply to "Wicked Lies" and sung completely in German, Böse Lügen moves away from the upbeat romanticism found throughout the album and commands serious self-reflection guised within an infectious dance floor anthem.

White & Black Smash Vinyl. Drab Majesty's third album, Modern Mirror, is a journey of self-reflection, nostalgia, love, beauty, and heartbreak told across eight addictive and emotional synth pop anthems - a seemingly classic tale delivered unblinkingly through the frame of the modern world. Elements of classic tragedy weigh heavily in the reflection of Modern Mirror in songs like "The Other Side", possessing a fundamental sound that is energetic, luminous and hopeful. Fusing the sonic aesthetics of predecessors like New Order and The Cure within the cautious instruction of Greek mythology and modern science fiction, Drab Majesty has birthed a hybrid of dreamy malaise, captured for a future moment. The first single, "Ellipsis", romantically plays up the distorted concept of courting through modern technology in a world that has yet to adapt, while on "Long Division", Deb's resounding guitar cascades around the chorus shared with No Joy frontwoman Jasamine White-Gluz, wistfully warning us against our vanity and self-obsession. Even when hope for everlasting love peeks through in "Oxytocin", a sparkling and stoic track sung by Mona D., we are firmly reminded our fleeting existence. Produced by Josh Eustis (Telefon Tel Aviv) with appearances by Jasamine White-Gluz (No Joy) and Justin Meldal-Johnson (NIN, Beck, M83, Air).

Since first forming in 2016, London's High Vis have steadily polished their palette of progressive hardcore with shades of post-punk, Brit pop, neo-psychedelia, and even Madchester groove, mapping a middle ground between hooks and fury, melodies and mosh pits. Singer Graham Sayle describes their third album 'Guided Tour' as an axis of competing forces: "It's trying to be a hopeful record, while also being incensed." Rounded out by drummer Edward 'Ski' Harper, guitarists Martin MacNamara and Rob Hammaren, and bassist Jack Muncaster, the band's deep roots in the UK and Irish DIY hardcore scenes have kept them grounded but growing, inspired equally by restlessness and righteous anger. As Sayle puts it, "Everyone's scratching, everyone's working all the time, and their idea of relaxing is just getting fucked and avoiding reality. This album is an escape from that."From its opening seconds of a cab door slamming, a car revving away, and a baggy rhythm swinging to life, 'Guided Tour' sounds like a band reaching for new heights, bristling with energy. Recorded across a few weeks at Holy Mountain Studios in London with producer Jonah Falco and engineer Stanley Gravett, the results feel dynamic and dialed-in, like anthems burned into sense memory through sweat and repetition. Harper cuts to the chase: "We had a clear idea going in, every moment got used. Maybe when we're 60 we can sit around and get a drum sound right, but for now it's about getting things done."The album's 11 songs span the spectrum of contemporary guitar music, sharpened by experience, camaraderie, and societal frustrations. From swaggering street punk ("Drop Me Out," "Mob DLA") to jangling indie sneer ("Worth The Wait," "Deserve It") to heavy alt ("Feeling Bless," "Fill The Gap") to shoegazey spoken word ("Untethered"), the group's chemistry transmutes any style to their unique intensity. Sayle champions this evolving fusion: "For years coming from hardcore, we had pretty clear boundaries - other scenes were separate worlds. Now things are getting more blended, drawing from different places."Nowhere is this sentiment flexed more boldly than on "Mind's A Lie," a dance- punk anthem inspired by Harper's love of house, garage, and pirate radio. Stabs of sampled female vocals (by celebrated South London singer and DJ Ell Murphy) build into a razor wire rhythm of low-slung bass, tense drums, and sparkling guitar before Sayle's staunch voice starts barking harsh truths ("Face to face with all I've known / I can't call these thoughts my own"). After a sudden breakdown, the track regroups and takes off, cruising into the horizon in a haze of chiming guitars and Murphy's ascendant voice, from the streets to somewhere beyond.

Mit an der Spitze der Shoegaze-Revivalisten steht ohne Zweifel die Band TRAUMA RAY aus Fort Worth, Texas, die die Komplexität, Intensität und ausdrucksstarke Verwüstung des Shoegaze virtuos beherrscht. Seit sie 2018 mit einer selbstbetitelten EP erstmals Wellen schlugen, haben die fünf Texaner ihr Live-Set auf immer abenteuerlicheren Amerika-Touren verfeinert - sie stapeln Verstärker und verdrehen Köpfe bei jeder Show, was ihnen in kürzester Zeit eine riesige Anhängerschaft eingebracht hat. Die drei Gitarren der Band sind eine Wucht, abwechselnd wütend, wild und gespenstisch, durchtränkt von präziser Verzerrung. Das Kern-Songwriter-Duo Uriel Avila und Jonathan Perez hat die Vision und das Handwerk des Projekts erweitert und verfeinert, was nun in ihrem 12-Track-Debüt für das Label DAIS, "Chameleon", gipfelt. Abgerundet durch Bassist Darren Baun, Schlagzeuger Nicholas Bobotas und Gitarrist Coleman Pruitt, synthetisiert und transzendiert das Album seine Einflüsse, eine stürmische Verschmelzung von Downer-Hooks, apokalyptischer Schönheit und Bulldozer-Riffs. Der Name TRAUMA RAY wurde in klassischer Shoegaze-Manier von dem deutschen Wort für "Tagtraum" oder "Traumzustand" inspiriert. Avilas Hintergrund in einer frommen Pfingstgemeinde verleiht seinen Texten über Schuld, Fegefeuer und den Übergang auf die andere Seite eine emotionale Authentizität, die sich durch das majestätische Volumen der Musik zieht. "Chameleon" ist ein Meisterwerk des Handwerks, der Ausgewogenheit, der Melodie, der Lyrik und der Schwerkraft, das eine neue Vision von "Laut-Leise-Laut"-Architekturen und den schwindelerregenden Tiefen von gesprengten Harmonien bietet. Von SLOWDIVE über DEFTONES bis hin zu HUM und darüber hinaus absorbieren und erweitern TRAUMA RAY ihre Einflüsse zu einer seltenen und hingebungsvollen Alchemie. TRAUMA RAYs cineastischer Sturm ist ein sich aufbauender Orkan, der sich gerade erst zu bewegen beginnt.

Seit ihrer Gründung im Jahr 2016 haben die Londoner High Vis ihre Palette an progressivem Hardcore mit Nuancen von Post-Punk, Brit-Pop, Neopsychedelia und sogar Madchester-Groove verfeinert und einen Mittelweg zwischen Hooks und Wut, Melodien und Moshpits gefunden. Sänger Graham Sayle beschreibt ihr drittes Album Guided Tour als eine Achse der konkurrierenden Kräfte: "Es versucht, eine hoffnungsvolle Platte zu sein, während es gleichzeitig wütend macht." Die Band, die von Schlagzeuger Edward 'Ski' Harper, Bassist Jack Muncaster und den Gitarristen Martin MacNamara und Rob Hammaren komplettiert wird, ist tief in der britischen und irischen DIY-Hardcore-Szene verwurzelt und wird von Rastlosigkeit und rechtschaffener Wut gleichermaßen inspiriert. Sayle sagt: "Jeder kratzt sich, jeder arbeitet die ganze Zeit, und die Vorstellung von Entspannung ist es, sich zu ficken und der Realität zu entgehen. Dieses Album ist eine Flucht vor dieser Realität." Von den ersten Sekunden an, in denen eine Kabinentür zuschlägt, ein Auto aufheult und ein sackartiger Rhythmus zum Leben erweckt wird, klingt Guided Tour wie eine Band, die nach neuen Höhen strebt und vor Energie strotzt. Das Ergebnis der mehrwöchigen Aufnahmen in den Holy Mountain Studios in London mit Produzent Jonah Falco und Tontechniker Stanley Gravett fühlt sich dynamisch und einstudiert an, wie Hymnen, die sich durch Schweiß und Wiederholung in das Gedächtnis der Sinne eingebrannt haben. Harper bringt es auf den Punkt: "Wir hatten eine klare Idee, jeder Moment wurde genutzt. Wenn wir 60 sind, können wir uns vielleicht hinsetzen und einen Schlagzeugsound hinbekommen, aber im Moment geht es darum, die Dinge zu erledigen." Die 11 Songs des Albums umfassen das gesamte Spektrum zeitgenössischer Gitarrenmusik, die durch Erfahrung, Kameradschaft und gesellschaftliche Frustrationen geschärft wurde. Von schwungvollem Streetpunk ("Drop Me Out", "Mob DLA") über schrillen Indie-Spott ("Worth The Wait", "Deserve It") bis hin zu Heavy Alt ("Feeling Bless", "Fill The Gap") und shoegazeartigem Spoken Word ("Untethered") - die Chemie der Gruppe verwandelt jeden Stil in ihre einzigartige Intensität. Sayle setzt sich für diese sich entwickelnde Verschmelzung ein: "Jahrelang hatten wir, die wir aus dem Hardcore kamen, ziemlich klare Grenzen - andere Szenen waren getrennte Welten. Jetzt vermischen sich die Dinge immer mehr, wir schöpfen aus verschiedenen Quellen."

SoiSong ist das helle, atemberaubende und kurzlebige Projekt, das 2007 von Ivan Pavlov (CoH) und Peter ,Sleazy" Christopherson (von Coil) gegründet wurde. Das Duo kombinierte Pavlovs kompromisslos visuelle digitale Ästhetik mit Sleazys dekadenter, düsterer und skurriler Herangehensweise an die Kreation. Die beiden benannten das Projekt nach dem thailändischen Wort für `zwei' (Song) sowie nach den schäbigen Rotlichtvierteln ("düstere Soi / Gasse") von Bangkok. Gemeinsam entwickelten sie eine einzigartige, elegante, aber eher kryptische Musiksprache. Das Debütalbum "xAj3z" von SoiSong ist eine digitale Referenz an den Jazz: scheinbar akustische, überschäumende, Grenzen sprengende, digitale Unterhaltung, in der Lichtstrahlen und tropische Hitze mit Nullen und Einsen unterlegt sind. Das Album ist ein definierendes Statement und ein Wegweiser für die Möglichkeiten in der (damals) entstehenden Musiklandschaft der späten 2000er. Ohne den Wunsch, kommerziell zu sein, war SoiSong nicht an die Konventionen einer einfach zu definierenden Verschlagwortung verpflichtet, und in ihrem eigenen, ,neuen, noch nicht kategorisierbaren Genre", wobei "xAj3z" ein Meisterwerk ist. "xAj3z" mischt frei Musikstile und kombiniert verschiedene Ansätze des Musizierens: Künstliche Vokalisten werden von echten Drums begleitet, Jazz-Noir-Arrangements treffen auf die zarte Melodik der Südsee, und Computer werden warm und organisch zum Klingen gebracht. Das Album zeigt keine offensichtliche Genre-Definition und zielt darauf ab, mit dem Hörer auf höchster emotionaler Intensität zu kommunizieren, oft lyrisch, manchmal dunkel, manchmal amüsant und sogar erhebend.

SoiSong ist das helle, atemberaubende und kurzlebige Projekt, das 2007 von Ivan Pavlov (CoH) und Peter ,Sleazy" Christopherson (von Coil) gegründet wurde. Das Duo kombinierte Pavlovs kompromisslos visuelle digitale Ästhetik mit Sleazys dekadenter, düsterer und skurriler Herangehensweise an die Kreation. Die beiden benannten das Projekt nach dem thailändischen Wort für `zwei' (Song) sowie nach den schäbigen Rotlichtvierteln ("düstere Soi / Gasse") von Bangkok. Gemeinsam entwickelten sie eine einzigartige, elegante, aber eher kryptische Musiksprache. Das Debütalbum "xAj3z" von SoiSong ist eine digitale Referenz an den Jazz: scheinbar akustische, überschäumende, Grenzen sprengende, digitale Unterhaltung, in der Lichtstrahlen und tropische Hitze mit Nullen und Einsen unterlegt sind. Das Album ist ein definierendes Statement und ein Wegweiser für die Möglichkeiten in der (damals) entstehenden Musiklandschaft der späten 2000er. Ohne den Wunsch, kommerziell zu sein, war SoiSong nicht an die Konventionen einer einfach zu definierenden Verschlagwortung verpflichtet, und in ihrem eigenen, ,neuen, noch nicht kategorisierbaren Genre", wobei "xAj3z" ein Meisterwerk ist. "xAj3z" mischt frei Musikstile und kombiniert verschiedene Ansätze des Musizierens: Künstliche Vokalisten werden von echten Drums begleitet, Jazz-Noir-Arrangements treffen auf die zarte Melodik der Südsee, und Computer werden warm und organisch zum Klingen gebracht. Das Album zeigt keine offensichtliche Genre-Definition und zielt darauf ab, mit dem Hörer auf höchster emotionaler Intensität zu kommunizieren, oft lyrisch, manchmal dunkel, manchmal amüsant und sogar erhebend.

Cindytalk is the mercurial, expressionist outlet of Scottish artist Cinder, inspired by the crossroads of exploratory UK post-punk and early European industrial. Her work thrives on chance and transformation, collaging elements of noise, balladry, soundtrack, catharsis, and improvisation. "We were trying to find our own space," says Cinder of the formative period Camouflage Heart emerged from, amidst a move from Edinburgh to London and Cinder's evolving exploration of gender identity, well before culture at large was equipped to understand. With contemporary discourse we see that the project manifested her transgender ideas as visceral music. The guttural, feral sound marked a notably darker turn from The Freeze's sixyear run on the fringes of punk. Changing the project's name became vital, not just because they kept hearing the former was already taken, but the desire to embody the spiritual and sonic shift, "to uncover new pathways_to feminize it," she says. Cinder, with bandmates David Clancy and John Byrne, arrived at Cindytalk, a winking nod to Sindy, the British fashion doll rival to Barbie known then for its pull-string talking mechanism. "The goal was to have a more interesting narrative, more interesting dialogue. Music was ultimately my only way of talking to people. That was my conversation with the world, an abstracted conversation_an attempt to make some kind of tiny, tiny mark, if possible, you hope somebody will notice." Over the years, Cinder has heard from fans who did pick up on the signals and find refuge in Camouflage Heart. Camouflage Heart plays with tension and pace, from creeping to feverish to claustrophobic. The percussion moves between restless marches and barely-there pulses; for some parts, they scratched and hit a tin bath, among other objects. Guitar lines vibrate and stab as Cinder contorts her voice freely. She pulls poetry from a cerebral abyss, like "make the snake in your eye, pierce the camouflage heart" on the slow-droning centerpiece "The Spirit Behind the Circus Dream." In that register is raw power, both vulnerable and menacing, an ability to locate something deep and emotionally charged within. "I still remember that person who was way too intense for their own good," Cinder reflects. "I couldn't make a record like that now, certainly not vocally, while that anger hasn't dissipated; there's still a kind of warrior." For all the destruction and disintegration of Camouflage Heart, Cinder maintains the objective was never full-on fatalistic; these songs seek not to destroy but to poke and provoke, to transform and heal, to find cracks of light in a crumbling world. She points to the last lines of the opening track, "It's Luxury": "Don't look down," the lyric pines through static and rhythm. Cinder extrapolates, "I'm essentially saying, just keep fucking going. As time went on, for me, that falling became flying. Camouflage Heart is the beginning of believing in flight."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

Queens Of The Circulating Library stands alongside Time Machines and Nurse With Wound's Soliloquy For Lilith as a post-industrial pinnacle of sensory-warping long-form drone.

Crafted by the distilled duo of Thighpaulsandra and John Balance, the 49-minute piece unfurls in swirling, cyclical waves, tidal as much as textural, channeling the spirit of levitational minimalism pioneered by La Monte Young. Touted as the first part in "a continually mutating series of circulating musickal compositions" upon its initial release in 2000, the album remains a compelling case study in Coil's exceptional capacity for mutation and extremes. The theatrical introductory monologue delivered by Thighpaulsandra's mother - a career opera singer, in her 80's at the time of recording - sets the stage for a grandiose ascension. Written by Balance, the text is declamatory but dreamlike, refracted through megaphone echo: "Return the book of knowledge / Return the marble index / File under "Paradox" / The forest is a college, each tree a university." As her voice fades, the lulling synthetic infinity deepens, congealing into transient crests of volume and haze, like slow-motion surf misting in moonlight. Thighpaulsandra describes their aesthetic intention as a "bliss out," static but shape-shifting, an amniotic drift towards an eternal vanishing point. A supreme sonic embodiment of the slogan on the sleeve of Time Machines, two years prior: "Persistence is all."

Since first bonding over Slowdive at a Texas karaoke bar six years ago, musicians Uriel Avila and Jonathan Perez have grown trauma ray into Fort Worth's foremost flag bearer of crushing shoegaze. A five-piece rounded out by bassist Darren Baun, drummer Nicholas Bobotas, and guitarist Coleman Pruitt, the band's debut album, Chameleon, captures their evolving sound at an apex of majestic devastation. A fusion of downer hooks, gauzy melancholia, and bulldozer riffs, the album heaves and crashes across 50 minutes of stacked amplifier alchemy. Lyrically the songs trace similarly lofty and brooding terrain; Avila says "The theme is death. And a chameleon, like death, can shape-shift in and out our lives in different forms." Chameleon opens with "Ember," dreamy and distant, alternately anthemic and apocalyptic, defeated and deafening. Lead single "Bishop" perfectly encapsulates trauma ray's depth and dimension, ripping out of the gate with "the biggest, baddest, saddest wall of sound." Lyrics about being burnt at the stake and "tossed in the flame" float above a stop-start assault of precision distortion, eventually expanding into a lush, heavy, sorrowful end coda. "Spectre" is a mysterious, introspective dirge, envisioned as a "mellow, slowcore, Duster-thing," all feeling and heavy fuzz chords (with no lead guitar). Avila wrote it, "to be a hymnal" from the perspective of someone who won't let go - a ghost, an ex, a shadow self. Although the album is rich with subtleties, graceful lulls, and "breaths of air," the band's three guitar attack is its defining force, a power flexed to its peak on "Bardo." Perez's intentions were blunt: "I wanted to write a riff that was hard as fuck." The result is alternately mean and eerie, veering between noisy one string bends and surging headbang, mapping a middle ground between Unwound and early-Deftones. One of trauma ray's greatest gifts is their ability to make doomy, sledgehammer heaviness sound like an earworm, without production tricks or gimmicks: "Riff, verse, chorus, three guitar parts - that's all you need." This quality is particularly apparent on the title track, a churning slab of amplifier worship, swirling chords, and heavenly, defeated vocals about not belonging, shape-shifting, and death ("A twisted face / Void of attention / An empty space / In your reflection"). "U.S.D.D.O.S" closes the album, swaying across seven minutes of grey skied guitar and haunted voice, subtly thickening as it deepens. Feedback and shrapnel gradually begin raining down, like a satellite disintegrating in the atmosphere. Titled as an acronym after a poem by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño that loosely translates to "a dream within a dream," the melody softens, smears, and then disappears, slowly swallowed by the gravity of eternal descent. Chameleon is a masterpiece of craft, balance, melody, lyricism, and gravity, flexing a fresh vision of loud-quiet-loud architectures and the vertigo depths of blasted harmonics. From Slowdive to Nothing, to Hum and beyond, the band absorb and expand on their influences into a rare and dedicated alchemy. trauma ray's cinematic tempest is a gathering storm only just taking flight.

Since first bonding over Slowdive at a Texas karaoke bar six years ago, musicians Uriel Avila and Jonathan Perez have grown trauma ray into Fort Worth's foremost flag bearer of crushing shoegaze. A five-piece rounded out by bassist Darren Baun, drummer Nicholas Bobotas, and guitarist Coleman Pruitt, the band's debut album, Chameleon, captures their evolving sound at an apex of majestic devastation. A fusion of downer hooks, gauzy melancholia, and bulldozer riffs, the album heaves and crashes across 50 minutes of stacked amplifier alchemy. Lyrically the songs trace similarly lofty and brooding terrain; Avila says "The theme is death. And a chameleon, like death, can shape-shift in and out our lives in different forms." Chameleon opens with "Ember," dreamy and distant, alternately anthemic and apocalyptic, defeated and deafening. Lead single "Bishop" perfectly encapsulates trauma ray's depth and dimension, ripping out of the gate with "the biggest, baddest, saddest wall of sound." Lyrics about being burnt at the stake and "tossed in the flame" float above a stop-start assault of precision distortion, eventually expanding into a lush, heavy, sorrowful end coda. "Spectre" is a mysterious, introspective dirge, envisioned as a "mellow, slowcore, Duster-thing," all feeling and heavy fuzz chords (with no lead guitar). Avila wrote it, "to be a hymnal" from the perspective of someone who won't let go - a ghost, an ex, a shadow self. Although the album is rich with subtleties, graceful lulls, and "breaths of air," the band's three guitar attack is its defining force, a power flexed to its peak on "Bardo." Perez's intentions were blunt: "I wanted to write a riff that was hard as fuck." The result is alternately mean and eerie, veering between noisy one string bends and surging headbang, mapping a middle ground between Unwound and early-Deftones. One of trauma ray's greatest gifts is their ability to make doomy, sledgehammer heaviness sound like an earworm, without production tricks or gimmicks: "Riff, verse, chorus, three guitar parts - that's all you need." This quality is particularly apparent on the title track, a churning slab of amplifier worship, swirling chords, and heavenly, defeated vocals about not belonging, shape-shifting, and death ("A twisted face / Void of attention / An empty space / In your reflection"). "U.S.D.D.O.S" closes the album, swaying across seven minutes of grey skied guitar and haunted voice, subtly thickening as it deepens. Feedback and shrapnel gradually begin raining down, like a satellite disintegrating in the atmosphere. Titled as an acronym after a poem by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño that loosely translates to "a dream within a dream," the melody softens, smears, and then disappears, slowly swallowed by the gravity of eternal descent. Chameleon is a masterpiece of craft, balance, melody, lyricism, and gravity, flexing a fresh vision of loud-quiet-loud architectures and the vertigo depths of blasted harmonics. From Slowdive to Nothing, to Hum and beyond, the band absorb and expand on their influences into a rare and dedicated alchemy. trauma ray's cinematic tempest is a gathering storm only just taking flight.

Seit ihrer Gründung im Jahr 2016 haben die Londoner High Vis ihre Palette an progressivem Hardcore mit Nuancen von Post-Punk, Brit-Pop, Neopsychedelia und sogar Madchester-Groove verfeinert und einen Mittelweg zwischen Hooks und Wut, Melodien und Moshpits gefunden. Sänger Graham Sayle beschreibt ihr drittes Album Guided Tour als eine Achse der konkurrierenden Kräfte: "Es versucht, eine hoffnungsvolle Platte zu sein, während es gleichzeitig wütend macht." Die Band, die von Schlagzeuger Edward 'Ski' Harper, Bassist Jack Muncaster und den Gitarristen Martin MacNamara und Rob Hammaren komplettiert wird, ist tief in der britischen und irischen DIY-Hardcore-Szene verwurzelt und wird von Rastlosigkeit und rechtschaffener Wut gleichermaßen inspiriert. Sayle sagt: "Jeder kratzt sich, jeder arbeitet die ganze Zeit, und die Vorstellung von Entspannung ist es, sich zu ficken und der Realität zu entgehen. Dieses Album ist eine Flucht vor dieser Realität." Von den ersten Sekunden an, in denen eine Kabinentür zuschlägt, ein Auto aufheult und ein sackartiger Rhythmus zum Leben erweckt wird, klingt Guided Tour wie eine Band, die nach neuen Höhen strebt und vor Energie strotzt. Das Ergebnis der mehrwöchigen Aufnahmen in den Holy Mountain Studios in London mit Produzent Jonah Falco und Tontechniker Stanley Gravett fühlt sich dynamisch und einstudiert an, wie Hymnen, die sich durch Schweiß und Wiederholung in das Gedächtnis der Sinne eingebrannt haben. Harper bringt es auf den Punkt: "Wir hatten eine klare Idee, jeder Moment wurde genutzt. Wenn wir 60 sind, können wir uns vielleicht hinsetzen und einen Schlagzeugsound hinbekommen, aber im Moment geht es darum, die Dinge zu erledigen." Die 11 Songs des Albums umfassen das gesamte Spektrum zeitgenössischer Gitarrenmusik, die durch Erfahrung, Kameradschaft und gesellschaftliche Frustrationen geschärft wurde. Von schwungvollem Streetpunk ("Drop Me Out", "Mob DLA") über schrillen Indie-Spott ("Worth The Wait", "Deserve It") bis hin zu Heavy Alt ("Feeling Bless", "Fill The Gap") und shoegazeartigem Spoken Word ("Untethered") - die Chemie der Gruppe verwandelt jeden Stil in ihre einzigartige Intensität. Sayle setzt sich für diese sich entwickelnde Verschmelzung ein: "Jahrelang hatten wir, die wir aus dem Hardcore kamen, ziemlich klare Grenzen - andere Szenen waren getrennte Welten. Jetzt vermischen sich die Dinge immer mehr, wir schöpfen aus verschiedenen Quellen."

Drab Majesty's third album, Modern Mirror, is a journey of self-reflection, nostalgia, love, beauty, and heartbreak told across eight addictive and emotional synth pop anthems - a seemingly classic tale delivered unblinkingly through the frame of the modern world. Elements of classic tragedy weigh heavily in the reflection of Modern Mirror in songs like "The Other Side", possessing a fundamental sound that is energetic, luminous and hopeful. Fusing the sonic aesthetics of predecessors like New Order and The Cure within the cautious instruction of Greek mythology and modern science fiction, Drab Majesty has birthed a hybrid of dreamy malaise, captured for a future moment. The first single, "Ellipsis", romantically plays up the distorted concept of courting through modern technology in a world that has yet to adapt, while on "Long Division", Deb's resounding guitar cascades around the chorus shared with No Joy frontwoman Jasamine White-Gluz, wistfully warning us against our vanity and self-obsession. Even when hope for everlasting love peeks through in "Oxytocin", a sparkling and stoic track sung by Mona D., we are firmly reminded our fleeting existence. Produced by Josh Eustis (Telefon Tel Aviv) with appearances by Jasamine White-Gluz (No Joy) and Justin Meldal-Johnson (NIN, Beck, M83, Air).

Ruby Wine Vinyl. Manchester UK's Space Afrika make music of what they term "overlapping moments" - oblique mosaics of dialogue, rhythm, texture, and shadow, half-heard through a bus window on a rainy night. Honest Labour, the group's first full-length since 2020's landmark hybtwibt? (have you been through what i've been through?) mixtape, expands the project's palette with classical strings, shimmering guitar, and visionary vocal cameos, leaning further into their enigmatic fusion of ambient unrest and cosmic downtempo. It's a sound both fogged and fragmented, at the axis of song craft and sound design, born from and for the yearning solitudes of life under lockdown.The album title is tiered, alluding to a legendary patriarch from co-founder Joshua Inyang's Nigerian family tree (who was lovingly called "Honest Labour" for his loyalty and resilience) as well as the nature of self-designated work, such as Space Afrika's music - a "labor of love" in its truest sense. With fellow co-founder Joshua Reid recently relocated to Berlin, the pair began sharing files last fall, piecing together poetic vignettes of looping haze and found sound, inspired by the notion of "records that leave an impression, and help the listener deal with their life." As the isolation of Covid compounded with the worsening winter, the songs skewed increasingly introspective and emotive, reflecting a mood of dissipating futures and the infinite nocturnal unknown.The artists cite two core motivations for Honest Labour: to transcend the sum of their influences, and "to show what we're capable of." Both ambitions are entirely realized. The collection's 19 tracks flow with a synergy and sophistication as rare as they are radical, untethered to the dusty dub-techno templates of Space Afrika's early years. These are interstitial anthems, expressionistic and open-ended, delirious but deliberate, attuned to the drift and dreamstate of the present moment: "Ultimately this is an homage to U.K. energy, and an album about love and loss."

Das vierte Studioalbum von Robert Alfons alias TR/ST (fka Trust), Performance, taucht noch tiefer in das Synthie-Pop-Psychodrama ein, das das Projekt in über einem Jahrzehnt der Entwicklung erschaffen und schließlich perfektioniert hat. Aufgenommen in Los Angeles, brodeln die Songs vor Angst, Lust, Abrechnung und Hingabe, beleuchtet von der Lichtverschmutzung tausender Sackgassen. Alfons hat "Performance" zusammen mit dem vielseitigen Komponisten und Produzenten Nightfeelings aufgenommen und dabei eine dichte, rauchige Balance aus unheimlichen Synthesizern, Nebelmaschinen-Tiefbässen und einer gequälten, krächzenden Stimme geschaffen. Der Titel ist eine Anspielung auf die beiläufige Bemerkung eines Freundes über Alfons' intrinsisch performative Natur. Der Opener "Soon" schwillt mit hymnischer Elektronik zum Leben an, bevor er mit einer riesigen New-Wave-Hook die Tanzfläche stürmt, gespickt mit ätzenden Kiss-off-Texten ("Asleep I still say it aloud / Scared stiff it's all around / We never did call it off, now our organs dried / Scared stiff to stone, you liar"). Die Musik bewegt sich zwischen Schönheit und Bitterkeit, Hymne und Qual, dem Klang einer wuchtig gewordenen Melancholie. Auf einem Track nach dem anderen setzt Alfons Pop-Dynamik und grüblerische Produktionskunst wie eine Waffe ein und schraubt sich durch eine Reihe von Singles - "All At Once", "The Shore", "Dark Day", "Boys of LA". Überall ist ein Gefühl von emotionalem Aufruhr zu spüren, der sich in seltsame Höhen steigert, befleckt von Schuld und Geistern und der Erinnerung an diejenigen, denen Unrecht getan wurde und die immer noch nicht vergeben haben. Als eine Welt für sich ist Performance überzeugend, mitreißend und berauschend, an der Schwelle zwischen aufwühlend und verstörend. Alfons' Stimme ist der Anker im Sturm, er singt eine Collage aus Eindrücken und Bekenntnissen mit einer verschmierten, bewusstseinsverändernden Logik. Er ist sowohl Beobachter als auch Anstifter, Performer und Dramatiker, befreit von der Bühne und der Nacht: "Now we see the rotten mind / It's eye to eye and mysteries/ Sail your boat for shore / I sit by the window waiting for it."

Since first splashing on to the Southern California circuit in the mid-aughts, Geneva Jacuzzi (née Garvin) quickly cemented herself as the queen of the Los Angeles underground. Her immersive and unhinged multimedia performances are the stuff of legend, a psychotropic gallery of masks, costumes, confrontation, and massive art installations. Jacuzzi’s recordings are equally revered, catchy hooks and cryptic moods dusted in 4-track grit. The arrival of her third official full-length, and Dais Records debut, is cause for such celebration. Triple Fire vividly expands and crystallizes Jacuzzi’s signature fusion of midnight melody and mutant aerobics across a 12-track hit parade of wildcard synth-pop and sly post-apocalyptic camp. Her enthusiasm for the album is as bold as her body of work: “Halfway through, we started calling this the record of the prophecy, the record that’s going to save mankind.”



Opener “Laps of Luxury” sets the template – a strobe-lit dreamer’s delight of swaggering synth bass, Haçienda drum machinery, and sultry vocal spellcasting (“Tragic mysteries I’ve known for centuries / I burned all memories and turned to fantasy”). The collection burns through shades of sardonic strut (“Art Is Dangerous,” “Nu2U,” “Keep It Secret”), coldwave kiss off (“Speed Of Light,” co-produced by Andrew Clinco of Drab Majesty), retro-futurist body music (“Dry,” “Scene Ballerina,” “Bow Tie Eater”), and cheeky glitterball pop (“Take It Or Leave It,” “Heart Full Of Poison” co-produced by Roderick Edens and Andrew Briggs). She likens the eclectic spectrum of moods to the continuum of human emotions: “Funny, sexy, sad, scary, witty, hopeful, menacing. Eventually it deconstructs, turns into a party, and then ends sweet and soft.”



Taken as a whole, Triple Fire comes as close as any document yet to capturing Jacuzzi’s kaleidoscopic alchemy of pop sugar and chaos energy, flickering between icy and ironic, chic and surreal, hungry and heartsick. Hers is a muse as rare as it is regenerative, forever reborn at the precipice of the next chorus: “Someone said that Alcatraz had fallen into the sea / Almost sounded like an angel calling me in a dream / I felt an electric shock when I picked up the microphone.”

Red in Clear Vinyl. First compiled as a double CD in 2002, Moon's Milk (in Four Phases) is a suite of four EPs that Coil released seasonally via their in-house Eskaton imprint across 1998. The line-up for these sessions were John Balance, Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson, Drew McDowall, and William Breeze. Recorded primarily at their home studio in Chiswick, London on the eve of a permanent relocation to the small seaside town of Weston-super-Mare, the collection has long loomed as a pivotal and pinnacle work in the group's discography, but has never been officially reissued, or repressed on vinyl. Time has only ripened its tapestry of regal strangeness.Arranged sequentially in tribute to the equinoxes and solstices, Moon's Milk captures Coil at a revelatory crossroads, leaning deeper into improvisation, spontaneity, and sound design. "Moon's Milk or Under an Unquiet Skull" initiates the proceedings on Spring Equinox, a two-part netherworld organ séance woven from vocal drones, cathedral keys, seasick strings, and opiated undertow. From there, Summer Solstice skews lighter but no less incantational, with Balance embracing his voice-as-instrument across lucid dream torch songs ("Bee Stings"), purgatorial spoken word ("Glowworms/Waveforms"), sultry chamber pieces ("Summer Substructures"), and falsetto ravings ("A Warning From The Sun (For Fritz)").Autumn Equinox exudes more of a pensive and twilit mood, from the Rose McDowall-sung folk ballad "Rosa Decidua" ("I hear your voice sing near to me / I've put away the poisoned chalice (for now) / And lie down amongst the flowerbeds") to hall-of-lords hallucination "The Auto-Asphyxiating Hierophant" to the liminal string-plucked classic "Amethyst Deceivers," featuring excellent alien guitar by Breeze layered with Balance's oft-quoted couplet: "Pay your respects to the vultures / For they are your future."The album's final chapter, Winter Solstice, is its most swooning, remote, and ceremonial. Opener "A White Rainbow" stirs strings, layered choral vocals, and shivering rhythm into an imploding burial hymn. "North" oscillates bleakly, a ghost in the machine murmuring opaque prophecy ("This black dog has no owner / This black dog has no odour"), while "Magnetic North" is its inverse, a guided meditation of gently flickering software and surreal chakra poetics ("Red rose filling the skull / Yellow cube in the lower pelvis / Silver moon crescent below the navel"). The suite fades to grey with a traditional English carol ("Christmas Is Now Drawing Near"), rendered like an executioner's song by Rose McDowall's doomed, beautiful voice.The Dais box set includes the entirety of the rare Moon's Milk Bonus Disc CD-R / 2019 Threshold Archives CD, which includes three collaborations with Thighpaulsandra. This material is as rich and intoxicating as the previous four phases, ranging from electro-acoustic singing bowl rituals ("Copal") to dissonant electronic recitations of visionary Angus MacLise poetry ("The Coppice Meat") to ominous classical melancholia ("Bankside"). Once again, Coil confirm the vastness of their confounding, infinite alchemy, explored and refined across decades of experimentation - both sonic and bodily. From post-industrial to post-everything, theirs is an art untethered, in the wilds of its own design.

Die südkalifornische Shoegaze-Truppe Cold Gawd kehrt zurück zu Dais mit ihrer zweiten und bisher besten Suite von erdrückender Downer-Seligkeit: "I'll Drown On This Earth". Vom trotzigen Schrei, mit dem das Eröffnungsstück "Gorgeous" beginnt, reißt das Album mit, was Sänger und Haupt-Songwriter Matthew Wainwright als "Go for it"-Modus beschreibt: Nichts zurückhalten, keine Zeit verschwenden. Obwohl der Großteil der Songs im Jahr 2022 geschrieben wurde, waren die Aufnahmesessions nicht vor März 2024 gebucht, so dass genügend Zeit zur Verfeinerung und Destillierung der Hooks, die Schwere und den Dunst der Musik war. Das Ergebnis ist ein perfekter Sturm aus Verzerrung und Dream-Pop, zerrissene Liebeslieder, die sich in schwindelerregende Wände aus Lärm legen. Aufgenommen bei Paradise Recorders in Anaheim, Kalifornien, mit Colin Knight (von der Post-Punk-Band Object of Affection), spielte Wainwright die Streicher ein, während Cameron Fonacier das Schlagzeug bediente. Der Prozess war effizient und effektiv, geschärft durch jahrelange Performance. Songs wie "Portland", "All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For A Thing I Cannot Name" und "Malibu Beach House" klingen dynamisch und gehen den Musikern in Fleisch und Blut über. Die Texte von Wainwright wurden nur eine Woche vor der Aufnahme geschrieben. Stimmungen der Surrealität, Verliebtheit und Melancholie flackern und verblassen in einem Nebel aus Erinnerung und Hall. Wie auf "God Get Me The Fuck Out Of Here" von 2022 manifestiert sich die zeitgemäße Vision des Shoegazevon Cold Gawd auf faszinierende Weise in Momenten, wie der gedämpften, strudelnden Träumerei von "Tappan", oder dem dunstigen, schleppenden Downtempo von ""Nudism"" (mit königlichem Klavier-Outro). Ihre Muse ist so lebendig wie vielfältig, sie reicht von "Loveless" von My Bloody Valentine über Drake, Post-Hardcore und Beach House. "I'll Drown On This Earth" erweitert auf eindrucksvolle Weise den Kanon von Cold Gawd, dicht an Riffs und Entrückung, Flucht und und Offenbarung, kanalisiert durch gestapelte Verstärker und versteckte Kräfte: "Give praise / to whatever / I got time for / hallelujah."

Die südkalifornische Shoegaze-Truppe Cold Gawd kehrt zurück zu Dais mit ihrer zweiten und bisher besten Suite von erdrückender Downer-Seligkeit: "I'll Drown On This Earth". Vom trotzigen Schrei, mit dem das Eröffnungsstück "Gorgeous" beginnt, reißt das Album mit, was Sänger und Haupt-Songwriter Matthew Wainwright als "Go for it"-Modus beschreibt: Nichts zurückhalten, keine Zeit verschwenden. Obwohl der Großteil der Songs im Jahr 2022 geschrieben wurde, waren die Aufnahmesessions nicht vor März 2024 gebucht, so dass genügend Zeit zur Verfeinerung und Destillierung der Hooks, die Schwere und den Dunst der Musik war. Das Ergebnis ist ein perfekter Sturm aus Verzerrung und Dream-Pop, zerrissene Liebeslieder, die sich in schwindelerregende Wände aus Lärm legen. Aufgenommen bei Paradise Recorders in Anaheim, Kalifornien, mit Colin Knight (von der Post-Punk-Band Object of Affection), spielte Wainwright die Streicher ein, während Cameron Fonacier das Schlagzeug bediente. Der Prozess war effizient und effektiv, geschärft durch jahrelange Performance. Songs wie "Portland", "All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For A Thing I Cannot Name" und "Malibu Beach House" klingen dynamisch und gehen den Musikern in Fleisch und Blut über. Die Texte von Wainwright wurden nur eine Woche vor der Aufnahme geschrieben. Stimmungen der Surrealität, Verliebtheit und Melancholie flackern und verblassen in einem Nebel aus Erinnerung und Hall. Wie auf "God Get Me The Fuck Out Of Here" von 2022 manifestiert sich die zeitgemäße Vision des Shoegazevon Cold Gawd auf faszinierende Weise in Momenten, wie der gedämpften, strudelnden Träumerei von "Tappan", oder dem dunstigen, schleppenden Downtempo von ""Nudism"" (mit königlichem Klavier-Outro). Ihre Muse ist so lebendig wie vielfältig, sie reicht von "Loveless" von My Bloody Valentine über Drake, Post-Hardcore und Beach House. "I'll Drown On This Earth" erweitert auf eindrucksvolle Weise den Kanon von Cold Gawd, dicht an Riffs und Entrückung, Flucht und und Offenbarung, kanalisiert durch gestapelte Verstärker und versteckte Kräfte: "Give praise / to whatever / I got time for / hallelujah."

Southern California shoegaze squad Cold Gawd return to Dais for their second and most supreme suite yet of crushing downer bliss: I’ll Drown On This Earth. From the defiant scream that kicks off opening cut “Gorgeous,” the album rips in what singer and principal songwriter Matthew Wainwright describes as “go for it” mode: holding back nothing, wasting no time. Although the bulk of the songs were written in 2022, recording sessions weren’t booked until March of 2024, which allowed ample time to refine and distill the music’s hooks, heaviness, and haze. The result is a perfect storm of distortion and dream pop, cracked love songs cloaked in swooning walls of noise.

Recorded at Paradise Recorders in Anaheim, California with Colin Knight (of post-punk unit Object of Affection), Wainwright tracked the strings while Cameron Fonacier handled drums. The process was efficient and effective, sharpened by years of performance. Anthemic headbangers like “Portland,” “All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For A Thing I Cannot Name,” and “Malibu Beach House” sound as dynamic as they do dialled-in, soaked into the bones of the players. The lyrics camelast, written by Wainwright a week before recording. Moods of surreality (“I can hear the blood in my fingers / nothing tunes out / the world’s too loud”), infatuation (“I will follow / everywhere you go / any way to feel / how you glow”), and melancholy (“God kept me around / for no good reason”) flicker and fade within a fog of memory and reverb.

Southern California shoegaze squad Cold Gawd return to Dais for their second and most supreme suite yet of crushing downer bliss: I’ll Drown On This Earth. From the defiant scream that kicks off opening cut “Gorgeous,” the album rips in what singer and principal songwriter Matthew Wainwright describes as “go for it” mode: holding back nothing, wasting no time. Although the bulk of the songs were written in 2022, recording sessions weren’t booked until March of 2024, which allowed ample time to refine and distill the music’s hooks, heaviness, and haze. The result is a perfect storm of distortion and dream pop, cracked love songs cloaked in swooning walls of noise.

Recorded at Paradise Recorders in Anaheim, California with Colin Knight (of post-punk unit Object of Affection), Wainwright tracked the strings while Cameron Fonacier handled drums. The process was efficient and effective, sharpened by years of performance. Anthemic headbangers like “Portland,” “All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For A Thing I Cannot Name,” and “Malibu Beach House” sound as dynamic as they do dialled-in, soaked into the bones of the players. The lyrics camelast, written by Wainwright a week before recording. Moods of surreality (“I can hear the blood in my fingers / nothing tunes out / the world’s too loud”), infatuation (“I will follow / everywhere you go / any way to feel / how you glow”), and melancholy (“God kept me around / for no good reason”) flicker and fade within a fog of memory and reverb.

Since first splashing on to the Southern California circuit in the mid-aughts, Geneva Jacuzzi (née Garvin) quickly cemented herself as the queen of the Los Angeles underground. Her immersive and unhinged multimedia performances are the stuff of legend, a psychotropic gallery of masks, costumes, confrontation, and massive art installations. Jacuzzi’s recordings are equally revered, catchy hooks and cryptic moods dusted in 4-track grit. The arrival of her third official full-length, and Dais Records debut, is cause for such celebration. Triple Fire vividly expands and crystallizes Jacuzzi’s signature fusion of midnight melody and mutant aerobics across a 12-track hit parade of wildcard synth-pop and sly post-apocalyptic camp. Her enthusiasm for the album is as bold as her body of work: “Halfway through, we started calling this the record of the prophecy, the record that’s going to save mankind.”



Opener “Laps of Luxury” sets the template – a strobe-lit dreamer’s delight of swaggering synth bass, Haçienda drum machinery, and sultry vocal spellcasting (“Tragic mysteries I’ve known for centuries / I burned all memories and turned to fantasy”). The collection burns through shades of sardonic strut (“Art Is Dangerous,” “Nu2U,” “Keep It Secret”), coldwave kiss off (“Speed Of Light,” co-produced by Andrew Clinco of Drab Majesty), retro-futurist body music (“Dry,” “Scene Ballerina,” “Bow Tie Eater”), and cheeky glitterball pop (“Take It Or Leave It,” “Heart Full Of Poison” co-produced by Roderick Edens and Andrew Briggs). She likens the eclectic spectrum of moods to the continuum of human emotions: “Funny, sexy, sad, scary, witty, hopeful, menacing. Eventually it deconstructs, turns into a party, and then ends sweet and soft.”



Taken as a whole, Triple Fire comes as close as any document yet to capturing Jacuzzi’s kaleidoscopic alchemy of pop sugar and chaos energy, flickering between icy and ironic, chic and surreal, hungry and heartsick. Hers is a muse as rare as it is regenerative, forever reborn at the precipice of the next chorus: “Someone said that Alcatraz had fallen into the sea / Almost sounded like an angel calling me in a dream / I felt an electric shock when I picked up the microphone.”

Since surfacing into the Scandinavian synth-pop scene 16 years ago, Nicklas Stenemo and Christian Hutchinson Berg aka KITE have steadily grown from local icons to a global phenomenon, yet until now they've never released a full-length studio album. VII breaks the ice, collecting 14 of the duo's deepest and most dynamic anthems into a stormy saga of immersive, apocalyptic emotion. Sourced from a series of six 7-inch singles released over the past half-decade, the collection persuasively showcases KITE's distinctly cinematic strain of Swedish darkwave in all its glory and desolation. Stenemo and Berg had both logged time in other bands before joining forces in the mid-aughts, although their unique chemistry became apparent immediately. After forming in Malmö, Sweden, they soon relocated to Stockholm, further refining their fusion of brooding synths, booming rhythm, and vocal theatrics over a string of celebrated, numbered EPs (named I through VI). Despite their rising profile, KITE then and now have largely refrained from publicity, allowing their music to speak for itself - which it clearly has, as KITE's live performances have become the stuff of legend, prompting frequent festival invitations, international tours, and limited engagements on prestigious stages (recently at the Royal Swedish Opera, and Dalhalla, the former limestone quarry turned open air amphitheater, to name a few). VII offers a compendium of KITE's potent recent discography, including collaborations with Blanck Mass, Anna von Hausswolff, and Henric de la Cour. From yearning dystopian pop ("Hand Out The Drugs," "Bowie `95"), to widescreen existential balladry ("Tranas Stenslanda," "Glassy Eyes"), and sleek New Romantica ("Remember Me," "Teenage Bliss"), KITE's wavelength is one of soaring heights and abysmal depths, anguish and ecstasy, pouring one's burning, battered heart into the here and now. Their years of visceral commitment and artistic integrity have been hard fought and hard won; it bleeds between the words and melodies in one holy moment after another: "I switch my ways / To seize the day / To face my life / Not fade to gray."

Since surfacing into the Scandinavian synth-pop scene 16 years ago, Nicklas Stenemo and Christian Hutchinson Berg aka KITE have steadily grown from local icons to a global phenomenon, yet until now they've never released a full-length studio album. VII breaks the ice, collecting 14 of the duo's deepest and most dynamic anthems into a stormy saga of immersive, apocalyptic emotion. Sourced from a series of six 7-inch singles released over the past half-decade, the collection persuasively showcases KITE's distinctly cinematic strain of Swedish darkwave in all its glory and desolation. Stenemo and Berg had both logged time in other bands before joining forces in the mid-aughts, although their unique chemistry became apparent immediately. After forming in Malmö, Sweden, they soon relocated to Stockholm, further refining their fusion of brooding synths, booming rhythm, and vocal theatrics over a string of celebrated, numbered EPs (named I through VI). Despite their rising profile, KITE then and now have largely refrained from publicity, allowing their music to speak for itself - which it clearly has, as KITE's live performances have become the stuff of legend, prompting frequent festival invitations, international tours, and limited engagements on prestigious stages (recently at the Royal Swedish Opera, and Dalhalla, the former limestone quarry turned open air amphitheater, to name a few). VII offers a compendium of KITE's potent recent discography, including collaborations with Blanck Mass, Anna von Hausswolff, and Henric de la Cour. From yearning dystopian pop ("Hand Out The Drugs," "Bowie `95"), to widescreen existential balladry ("Tranas Stenslanda," "Glassy Eyes"), and sleek New Romantica ("Remember Me," "Teenage Bliss"), KITE's wavelength is one of soaring heights and abysmal depths, anguish and ecstasy, pouring one's burning, battered heart into the here and now. Their years of visceral commitment and artistic integrity have been hard fought and hard won; it bleeds between the words and melodies in one holy moment after another: "I switch my ways / To seize the day / To face my life / Not fade to gray."

Scottish experimental/electronic musician Drew McDowall's lifelong interest in an elegiac solo bagpipe style called pibroch (ceòl mòr in Gaelic) has been an inspiration for much of his previous work (including Coil's legendary Time Machines). This form, often traditionally used for laments and for tributes to the dead, fuses modal drones with flickering dissonance and plaintive melody evoking an ancient, solemn mood. His latest work, A Thread, Silvered and Trembling, both incorporates and transforms these elements via exploratory electronic processing, weaving an electro-acoustic tapestry of strings, shudders, voids, and voices, alternately disembodied and displaced. Co-produced with engineer Randall Dunn at Circular Ruin Studios in Brooklyn, the collection's four pieces capture McDowall at his most elevated and elusive, in thrall to "the ineffable - that which refuses to be spoken." McDowall's palette here is unusually eclectic, sourced from a dynamic orchestral ensemble arranged by Brent Arnold and comprised of cello, viola, violin, harp (Marilu Donovan of LEYA), and french horn. Ebbing between shrouded electronics and enigmatic, sometimes spectralist orchestration, the album moves with a seething, simmering energy, surging into elegant, uneasy crescendos. The first two pieces are inspired by a liberatory hijacking and inversion of a grim biblical story (and by a cryptic and strange UK simple syrup branding). Opener "Out of Strength Comes Sweetness" shivers with short echo and resonant pads, before shifting into the album's centerpiece: the 14-minute saga "And Lions Will Sing with Joy." A murmuring electrical storm of keening strings and disorienting drones gradually grows darker and denser, until suddenly there's a crack in the clouds, revealing mutated choral voices and sparkling harp. McDowall describes the track as "an incantation to help usher in a break, and a new beginning." The record's latter half evokes a deep untamed animism shot through with spiraling radiance. "In Wound and Water" sways with harp, plucked strings and eerie cello undertows while lush layers of disorientated electronics hang in the dusk. There is no resolution, only a faint gradient of fragile dissipation, leading into the album's harrowing and climactic closer, "A Dream of a Cartographic Membrane Dissolves." Processed voices (credited on the liner notes to "The Ghosts Who Refuse to Rest") contort, whisper, and gather as the rest of the ensemble sharpens, poising to strike. Then it does - grand, tragic stabs of strings and horns lashing the sky, storming heaven by force. The fallout is poetic and inevitable, raining embers into a dark sea. But the journey and catharsis of A Thread linger long after it goes silent. Like so much of McDowall's multifaceted catalog, this is music of immanence and alchemy, attuned equally to the sacred and the profane, to the tile and the mosaic.

Deb Demure's powerful presence and hypnotic sound has firmly defined the identity of Drab Majesty. After releasing the debut album, Careless, Drab Majesty split time between touring and studios, piecing together the ideas for the follow-up album, "The Demonstration", an album depicting Deb Demure as only one part of Drab Majesty's overall being and storytelling saga.With "Induction", Drab Majesty sets up an ethereal backdrop for which the rest of the album follows. Tracks such as "Dot In The Sky" and "39 By Design" (a song pointing to the doomsday Heaven's Gate cult) use lush, shoegaze approach to portray the fragility of humanity's loss of self, looking only to the heavens for answers. "Cold Souls" flawlessly executes Drab Majesty's arpeggiated finger picking signature, complete with washes of hazy noise and atmospheric reverb. With the addition of Mona D. to Drab Majesty's mysterious portfolio, songs from The Demonstration perpetually create new meanings and depth with every listen. After Drab Majesty wraps up The Demonstration with "Behind The Wall", one is left wondering what kind of identity is truly their own Compact disc features two bonus tracks plus four exclusive remixes by Cold Cave, Drew McDowall, Silent Servant and Martial Canterel.

Drab Majesty's third album, Modern Mirror, is a journey of self-reflection, nostalgia, love, beauty, and heartbreak told across eight addictive and emotional synth pop anthems - a seemingly classic tale delivered unblinkingly through the frame of the modern world. Elements of classic tragedy weigh heavily in the reflection of Modern Mirror in songs like "The Other Side", possessing a fundamental sound that is energetic, luminous and hopeful. Fusing the sonic aesthetics of predecessors like New Order and The Cure within the cautious instruction of Greek mythology and modern science fiction, Drab Majesty has birthed a hybrid of dreamy malaise, captured for a future moment. The first single, "Ellipsis", romantically plays up the distorted concept of courting through modern technology in a world that has yet to adapt, while on "Long Division", Deb's resounding guitar cascades around the chorus shared with No Joy frontwoman Jasamine White-Gluz, wistfully warning us against our vanity and self-obsession. Even when hope for everlasting love peeks through in "Oxytocin", a sparkling and stoic track sung by Mona D., we are firmly reminded our fleeting existence. Produced by Josh Eustis (Telefon Tel Aviv) with appearances by Jasamine White-Gluz (No Joy) and Justin Meldal-Johnson (NIN, Beck, M83, Air).

Nach der 2022 erschienenen LP Rough Dimension wagte Noel Skum - alias Andrew Clinco von Drab Majesty - den radikalen Schritt, sein psychedelisches Post-Punk-Vehikel VR SEX zu einer fünfköpfigen Band zu erweitern, die komplett zusammenarbeitet. Sie buchten Studiozeit in Glassell Park, tauschten skelettartige iPhone-Demos aus und "machten diese klassische Sache einer Band, die genau die Platte macht, die sie will, ohne jegliche Einmischung." In 12-Stunden-Tagen arbeiteten sie in einer Woche an den Grundlagen und nahmen dann einen Monat lang den Rest auf, um ihn mit Schnörkeln, Effekten und Verstärkerexperimenten zu verfeinern. Hard Copy ist das Ergebnis - 10 Tracks Psychedelic-Punk, durchzogen von Chrome-geschädigten Freak-Outs und rotzigen Power-Pop-Harmonien. Abgemischt von Gitarrist Mike Kriebel - einem versierten Tontechniker mit Dutzenden von Credits im Punk-, Goth- und Garage-Underground - ist das Album dicht, reichhaltig und räumlich. Shadows of Chrome, Stick Men With Rayguns, japanischer Psych und "laut-leise-laut" Grunge-Hymnen flackern hier und da auf, aber letztlich ist der Modus von VR SEX eher sardonisch und gesättigt, oszillierend zwischen zerrissenem Leder-Riffing und schmelzendem Space-Echo.

Swedish synth-pop phenomenon Kite's second 7 inch since signing with Dais in 2023 finds the duo of Nicklas Stenemo and Christian Hutchinson Berg swinging for new heights of romantic desolation and baroque grandeur. They describe the A Side, "Losing," as a "six-minute empty call for emotional response." Stately piano and anguished voice reverberate in a vaulted hall, before gradually building into a widescreen anthem of synths, drums, and soaring vocals decrying the steady deadening of life and love: "It's deadly quiet in your old heart / Are you there? / I see dark skies on the rise / And daylight shows no remorse / And I realize it is my life / But It's losing all meaning." Swedish dark music icons Anna von Hausswolff and Henric de la Cour join the chorus as the song cascades towards an ominous horizon. The B Side, "Glassy Eyes," showcases Kite's mastery of somber, sweeping balladry. Hushed church organ elevates and anchors Stenemo's devastated confessional, swaying between resilience and defeat. The band describes the song as a reckoning with "the privileged and existential anxiety of drifting through life dispassionately," contrasted with "the yearning to connect profoundly with others and a desire for experiences that stir the soul before facing one's final moments." Like a hymn, the emotion thickens as it deepens, approaching both darkness and divinity: "Deep as I go, nothing to find / Oh catatonia, I won't cry / Nothing can grow, everything dies / Behind my glassy eyes."

Swedish synth-pop phenomenon Kite's second 7 inch since signing with Dais in 2023 finds the duo of Nicklas Stenemo and Christian Hutchinson Berg swinging for new heights of romantic desolation and baroque grandeur. They describe the A Side, "Losing," as a "six-minute empty call for emotional response." Stately piano and anguished voice reverberate in a vaulted hall, before gradually building into a widescreen anthem of synths, drums, and soaring vocals decrying the steady deadening of life and love: "It's deadly quiet in your old heart / Are you there? / I see dark skies on the rise / And daylight shows no remorse / And I realize it is my life / But It's losing all meaning." Swedish dark music icons Anna von Hausswolff and Henric de la Cour join the chorus as the song cascades towards an ominous horizon. The B Side, "Glassy Eyes," showcases Kite's mastery of somber, sweeping balladry. Hushed church organ elevates and anchors Stenemo's devastated confessional, swaying between resilience and defeat. The band describes the song as a reckoning with "the privileged and existential anxiety of drifting through life dispassionately," contrasted with "the yearning to connect profoundly with others and a desire for experiences that stir the soul before facing one's final moments." Like a hymn, the emotion thickens as it deepens, approaching both darkness and divinity: "Deep as I go, nothing to find / Oh catatonia, I won't cry / Nothing can grow, everything dies / Behind my glassy eyes."

Transparent Yellow w/ Black Splatter Vinyl. Since founding Swedish synthpop duo KITE in 2008, singer Nicklas Stenemo and keyboardist Christian Hutchinson Berg's brooding fusion of cinematic electronics and anthemic pop has steadily elevated into a spectacle of passion, atmosphere, and communion. Their debut double-A vinyl single for Dais Records, Don't take the light away / Remember me captures KITE at their most urgent, thrilling and apocalyptic."Don't take the light away" is a song about "the war between energies," with singer Stenemo's wounded croon leading a rising tide of stabbing strings, pulsing percussion, and looming bass orchestrated by keyboardist Hutchinson Berg, surging to a mass-chanted chorus both desperate and triumphant ("dance, let them dance into me / people versus people can't see / hands should be holding hands"). "Remember me" was written following the band's 2017 US tour, capturing the intense feelings of burnout and exhaustion. "Remember me, Won't you remember me, Promise you'll remember me."Words only tell half of the story; smoke spills across the stage, and the melodies become a battle cry. Our worst fears eventually boil over, turning into hope and resilience. Like the best of KITE's music, "Don't take the light away" and "Remember me" fuse theater and catharsis into anthems of universal yearning, born of "the struggle to keep a flickering candle lit in a very dark space."

Mit der um sieben Bonusstücke ergänzten Neuauflage von "Passive With Desire" (2016) kommen zu den neun Originaltiteln des Albums die beiden Songs der Single "Sunday Light" (2017) sowie die fünf Aufnahmen der limitierten Kassette "Part Time Punks Sessions" (2018) hinzu. Letztere erschienen ebenfalls bei Dais, das Debüt kam via Team Love Records in die Läden. Hinter Choir Boy verbirgt sich ein synthielastiges und 80er-dominiertes Dream-Pop-Projekt von Adam Klopp (Gesang, Synthesizer, Piano, Gitarre, Perkussion, Elektronik). Der verbrachte zwar seine Kindheit und Jugend in der Glaubensgemeinschaft der Mormonen in Salt Lake City, aber mit zunehmendem Alter auch immer mehr Zeit in der DIY-Punk-Szene. Schließlich gelang es Klopp, die Sekte zu verlassen. Die Stücke für sein Debüt skizzierte er als Single-Demo-Tracks, doch die finalen Aufnahmen fanden im Studio mit Begleitung - Katrina Marie Rick Peterson (Gesang), Bret Meisenbach (Gitarre), Jacob Hall (Drums), Kyle Hooper (Keys), Chaz Costello (Bass), Alyssa Pyper (Violine) - statt. Flankiert wird die CD durch ein informatives 12-seitiges Booklet.

First compiled as a double CD in 2002, Moon's Milk (in Four Phases) is a suite of four EPs that Coil released seasonally via their in-house Eskaton imprint across 1998. The line-up for these sessions were John Balance, Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson, Drew McDowall, and William Breeze. Recorded primarily at their home studio in Chiswick, London on the eve of a permanent relocation to the small seaside town of Weston-Super-Mare, the collection has long loomed as a pivotal and pinnacle work in the group's discography, but has never been officially reissued, or repressed on vinyl. Time has only ripened its tapestry of regal strangeness. Arranged sequentially in tribute to the equinoxes and solstices, Moon's Milk captures Coil at a revelatory crossroads, leaning deeper into improvisation, spontaneity, and sound design. "Moon's Milk or Under an Unquiet Skull" initiates the proceedings on Spring Equinox, a two-part netherworld organ séance woven from vocal drones, cathedral keys, seasick strings, and opiated undertow. From there, Summer Solstice skews lighter but no less incantational, with Balance embracing his voice-as-instrument across lucid dream torch songs ("Bee Stings"), purgatorial spoken word ("Glowworms/Waveforms"), sultry chamber pieces ("Summer Substructures"), and falsetto ravings ("A Warning From The Sun (For Fritz)"). Autumn Equinox exudes more of a pensive and twilit mood, from the Rose McDowall-sung folk ballad "Rosa Decidua" ("I hear your voice sing near to me / I've put away the poisoned chalice (for now) / And lie down amongst the flowerbeds") to hall-of-lords hallucination "The Auto-Asphyxiating Hierophant" to the liminal string-plucked classic "Amethyst Deceivers," featuring excellent alien guitar by Breeze layered with Balance's oft-quoted couplet: "Pay your respects to the vultures / For they are your future." The album's final chapter, Winter Solstice, is its most swooning, remote, and ceremonial. Opener "A White Rainbow" stirs strings, layered choral vocals, and shivering rhythm into an imploding burial hymn. "North" oscillates bleakly, a ghost in the machine murmuring opaque prophecy ("This black dog has no owner / This black dog has no odour"), while "Magnetic North" is its inverse, a guided meditation of gently flickering software and surreal chakra poetics ("Red rose filling the skull / Yellow cube in the lower pelvis / Silver moon crescent below the navel"). The suite fades to grey with a traditional English carol ("Christmas Is Now Drawing Near"), rendered like an executioner's song by Rose McDowall's doomed, beautiful voice. The Dais box set includes the entirety of the rare Moon's Milk Bonus Disc CD-R / 2019 Threshold Archives Copal CD, which includes three collaborations with Thighpaulsandra. This material is as rich and intoxicating as the previous four phases, ranging from electro-acoustic singing bowl rituals ("Copal") to dissonant electronic recitations of visionary Angus MacLise poetry ("The Coppice Meat") to ominous classical melancholia ("Bankside"). Once again, Coil confirm the vastness of their confounding, infinite alchemy, explored and refined across decades of experimentation - both sonic and bodily. From postindustrial to post-everything, theirs is an art untethered, in the wilds of its own design.

The latest by Texan-turned-Angeleno progressive vaporwave producer Carlos Ramirez aka AURAGRAPH finds him shifting focus to the dance floor across eight chrome clockworks of cosmic acid house and liquid rave glide: 'New Standard'. Inspired by lessons learned during a 5K mile American road trip tour in the summer 2022, he set to work in his Simi Valley Tuff Shed of synths and hardware, pursuing an explicitly DJ-friendly muse: "I realized I wanted to make a record where every track could go off in a live setting."These cuts do just that, revved and rhythmic, peppered with slap bass, Madchester whistles, filtered acid, gated snares, baggy cowbell, and sample pack classics - record scratches, orchestral stabs, the "Yeah! Woo!" from Lynn Collins "Think (About It)." Ramirez describes the process as immediate and instinctual: "I'd turn on the MPC, pick a tempo, and just improv - it was incredibly fun."From sleek freeway techno ("110 Cruising") to arcade lurker acid ("Coast 2 Coast") to big room bangers ("666 Ambience"), the tracks time-travel across the canon of club music, sifting tricks and styles to fashion fresh anthems of hypnagogic jack. It's an album channeled as much as crafted, tapping into the decks of mythic warehouse infinities past and present, where the system rips all night and acid never dies.

Originally released as a hand-numbered CD on New Year's Eve of 2004, Last Light captures Tor Lundvall 's hushed songcraft at its most ghostly and grayscale, stripped bare like branches bracing for winter. Initially conceived of as "a piano album with sparse electronics" (with the working title November), Lundvall's palette steadily expanded, incorporating synthesizer, samples, bass, metronomes, and his signature spectral vocals. A journal entry from the spring of 2002 proved formative to his evolving vision: "I remember watching the blueish-grey light shimmering outside and hearing distant sounds echoing far away, eventually sinking into silence and stillness." The album's 12 tracks are steeped in this sense of autumnal transience, of bearing witness to what fades. The music moves in whispered swells, between dirge, drift, and devotional. Synths chime like slow-tolling bells; percussion shuffles and shivers, icy and isolated; bass traces a low-lidded plod - it's a mode both austere and seductive, lulling the listener into its landscapes of deepening dusk. Lyrically, Lundvall's language skews observational and depressive ("through lace curtains / grey light falls / dark clouds gather / in my soul" ), with each song like a gauzy glimpse into a different tableau framing winter's descent: rust - colored leaves, frozen ponds, cold crescent moons. Lundvall has long considered Last Light a "personal favorite" in his discography, and it's easy to hear why. In texture, finesse, and pacing, it vividly evokes the rare mood of fragile, frosty pastoral noir depicted in his iconic oil paintings. His is an art of the half-seen and half-remembered, of fleeting figures, shapes and shadows, and gathering darkness. Of all that disappears, and the ghosts that never leave: "So I wait / as the years / slowly drain the magic and the light / and the girl / I never loved / haunts me through the dark roads of my life."

For fans of post-Chicago post-"Second Summer of Love" acid; Chris & Cosey, Terekke, Cabaret Voltaire, Anthony Naples, JTC, D.K., Luke Vibert, Khotin. The latest by Texan-turned-Angeleno progressive vaporwave producer Carlos Ramirez aka AURAGRAPH finds him shifting focus to the dance floor across eight chrome clockworks of cosmic acid house and liquid rave glide: New Standard. Inspired by lessons learned during a 5K mile American road trip tour in the summer 2022, he set to work in his Simi Valley Tuff Shed of synths and hardware, pursuing an explicitly DJfriendly muse: "I realized I wanted to make a record where every track could go off in a live setting." These cuts do just that, revved and rhythmic, peppered with slap bass, Madchester whistles, filtered acid, gated snares, baggy cowbell, and sample pack classics - record scratches, orchestral stabs, the "Yeah! Woo!" from Lynn Collins "Think (About It)." Ramirez describes the process as immediate and instinctual: "I'd turn on the MPC, pick a tempo, and just improv - it was incredibly fun." From sleek freeway techno ("110 Cruising") to arcade lurker acid ("Coast 2 Coast") to big room bangers ("666 Ambience"), the tracks time-travel across the canon of club music, sifting tricks and styles to fashion fresh anthems of hypnagogic jack. It's an album channeled as much as crafted, tapping into the decks of mythic warehouse infinities past and present, where the system rips all night and acid never dies.

High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before. Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me. It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before. Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me. It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

For fans of post-Chicago post-"Second Summer of Love" acid; Chris & Cosey, Terekke, Cabaret Voltaire, Anthony Naples, JTC, D.K., Luke Vibert, Khotin. The latest by Texan-turned-Angeleno progressive vaporwave producer Carlos Ramirez aka AURAGRAPH finds him shifting focus to the dance floor across eight chrome clockworks of cosmic acid house and liquid rave glide: New Standard. Inspired by lessons learned during a 5K mile American road trip tour in the summer 2022, he set to work in his Simi Valley Tuff Shed of synths and hardware, pursuing an explicitly DJfriendly muse: "I realized I wanted to make a record where every track could go off in a live setting." These cuts do just that, revved and rhythmic, peppered with slap bass, Madchester whistles, filtered acid, gated snares, baggy cowbell, and sample pack classics - record scratches, orchestral stabs, the "Yeah! Woo!" from Lynn Collins "Think (About It)." Ramirez describes the process as immediate and instinctual: "I'd turn on the MPC, pick a tempo, and just improv - it was incredibly fun." From sleek freeway techno ("110 Cruising") to arcade lurker acid ("Coast 2 Coast") to big room bangers ("666 Ambience"), the tracks time-travel across the canon of club music, sifting tricks and styles to fashion fresh anthems of hypnagogic jack. It's an album channeled as much as crafted, tapping into the decks of mythic warehouse infinities past and present, where the system rips all night and acid never dies.

Originally released as a hand-numbered CD on New Year's Eve of 2004, Last Light captures Tor Lundvall 's hushed songcraft at its most ghostly and grayscale, stripped bare like branches bracing for winter. Initially conceived of as "a piano album with sparse electronics" (with the working title November), Lundvall's palette steadily expanded, incorporating synthesizer, samples, bass, metronomes, and his signature spectral vocals. A journal entry from the spring of 2002 proved formative to his evolving vision: "I remember watching the blueish-grey light shimmering outside and hearing distant sounds echoing far away, eventually sinking into silence and stillness." The album's 12 tracks are steeped in this sense of autumnal transience, of bearing witness to what fades. The music moves in whispered swells, between dirge, drift, and devotional. Synths chime like slow-tolling bells; percussion shuffles and shivers, icy and isolated; bass traces a low-lidded plod - it's a mode both austere and seductive, lulling the listener into its landscapes of deepening dusk. Lyrically, Lundvall's language skews observational and depressive ("through lace curtains / grey light falls / dark clouds gather / in my soul" ), with each song like a gauzy glimpse into a different tableau framing winter's descent: rust - colored leaves, frozen ponds, cold crescent moons. Lundvall has long considered Last Light a "personal favorite" in his discography, and it's easy to hear why. In texture, finesse, and pacing, it vividly evokes the rare mood of fragile, frosty pastoral noir depicted in his iconic oil paintings. His is an art of the half-seen and half-remembered, of fleeting figures, shapes and shadows, and gathering darkness. Of all that disappears, and the ghosts that never leave: "So I wait / as the years / slowly drain the magic and the light / and the girl / I never loved / haunts me through the dark roads of my life."

Since founding Swedish synthpop duo KITE in 2008, singer Nicklas Stenemo and keyboardist Christian Hutchinson Berg's brooding fusion of cinematic electronics and anthemic pop has steadily elevated into a spectacle of passion, atmosphere, and communion. Their double-A vinyl single for Dais Records, "Don't take the light away" / "Remember Me" captures KITE at their most urgent, thrilling and apocalyptic. "Don't take the light away" is a song about "the war between energies," with singer Stenemo's wounded croon leading a rising tide of stabbing strings, pulsing percussion, and looming bass orchestrated by keyboardist Hutchinson Berg, surging to a mass-chanted chorus both desperate and triumphant. Like the best of KITE's music, "Don't take the light away" and "Remember me" fuse theater and catharsis into anthems of universal yearning, born of "the struggle to keep a flickering candle lit in a very dark space."

Since founding Swedish synthpop duo KITE in 2008, singer Nicklas Stenemo and keyboardist Christian Hutchinson Berg's brooding fusion of cinematic electronics and anthemic pop has steadily elevated into a spectacle of passion, atmosphere, and communion. Their double-A vinyl single for Dais Records, "Don't take the light away" / "Remember Me" captures KITE at their most urgent, thrilling and apocalyptic. "Don't take the light away" is a song about "the war between energies," with singer Stenemo's wounded croon leading a rising tide of stabbing strings, pulsing percussion, and looming bass orchestrated by keyboardist Hutchinson Berg, surging to a mass-chanted chorus both desperate and triumphant. Like the best of KITE's music, "Don't take the light away" and "Remember me" fuse theater and catharsis into anthems of universal yearning, born of "the struggle to keep a flickering candle lit in a very dark space."

Ivan Pavlov aka CoH characterizes his latest solo work,Radiant Faults,as “the recording of a dialogue,” rather than a set of compositions. Crafted using a rare new synthesizer,the Silhouette Eins, Pavlov’s first encounter with the instrument across a long, late night session resultedin a continuous set of textures, patterns, and subliminal melodies. Atsome point during the process, he realized he was not alone: “It was as ifsomething was speaking to me through the gear–the feeling was very intense.No matter how determined and specific I attempted to be, theresults were something else. They felt like 'responses.’ This instantly reminded me of ELpH.

Ivan Pavlov aka CoH characterizes his latest solo work,Radiant Faults,as “the recording of a dialogue,” rather than a set of compositions. Crafted using a rare new synthesizer,the Silhouette Eins, Pavlov’s first encounter with the instrument across a long, late night session resultedin a continuous set of textures, patterns, and subliminal melodies. Atsome point during the process, he realized he was not alone: “It was as ifsomething was speaking to me through the gear–the feeling was very intense.No matter how determined and specific I attempted to be, theresults were something else. They felt like 'responses.’ This instantly reminded me of ELpH.

The latest EP from Drab Majesty marks the start of a stirring new chapter in the band's majestic legacy. Written during a 2021 retreat to the remote coastal Oregon town of Yachats, Deb Demure leaned into the neo- psychedelic resonance of a uniquely bowl - shaped 12 -string Ovation acoustic/electric guitar. After early morning hikes in the rain, Deb would record ambient guitar experiments the rest of the day, tapping into "flow states," letting the sound lead the way. These sessions were then refined or recreated, and later elevated further with key collaborations by Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Justin Meldal Johnson (Beck, M83, Air), and Ben Greenberg (Uniform, Circular Ruin Studio). An Object In Motion is true to its title, capturing the chrysalis moment of an artist evolving, reborn and untet hered, silhouetted against an open horizon. "Cape Perpetua" kicks off the collection's divergent palette: sparkling acoustic fingerpicking refracted through delay, equal parts raga and reverie. Melodies and moods congeal and dissipate, at the threshold of rustic American primitivism, brooding neo-folk, and pastoral melancholia. "The Skin And The Glove" deploys jangle to different effect baggy, soaring, grey skied kaleidoscopic pop in the spirit of Stone Roses, Primal Scream, and The Glove. Rachel Goswell lends her iconic freefall voice to The Cure - esque ballad, "Vanity," infusing poetic gravity to the doomed refrain: "If the valve breaks / then the earth quakes / and history finds a way / to put you in your place." "Yield To Force", the closing track of the EP, may be the most anomalous offering of the set. A 15 minute instrumental odyssey of cyclical strings, ominous slide guitar, and simmering synthesizer, the piece sways and spirals like a long zoom into distant storm clouds. Demure finesses the guitar with a restless but regal grandeur, unfolding a panorama of peaks, shadows, and plateaus. It's music both intuitive and prophetic, tracing the slow swing of pendulums across an endless plain. Taken as a whole, An Object In Motion presents a showcase of potential futures from Drab's evolving domain, their sound poised to bloom at the precipice of transformation.

The latest EP from Drab Majesty marks the start of a stirring new chapter in the band's majestic legacy. Written during a 2021 retreat to the remote coastal Oregon town of Yachats, Deb Demure leaned into the neo- psychedelic resonance of a uniquely bowl - shaped 12 -string Ovation acoustic/electric guitar. After early morning hikes in the rain, Deb would record ambient guitar experiments the rest of the day, tapping into "flow states," letting the sound lead the way. These sessions were then refined or recreated, and later elevated further with key collaborations by Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Justin Meldal Johnson (Beck, M83, Air), and Ben Greenberg (Uniform, Circular Ruin Studio). An Object In Motion is true to its title, capturing the chrysalis moment of an artist evolving, reborn and untet hered, silhouetted against an open horizon. "Cape Perpetua" kicks off the collection's divergent palette: sparkling acoustic fingerpicking refracted through delay, equal parts raga and reverie. Melodies and moods congeal and dissipate, at the threshold of rustic American primitivism, brooding neo-folk, and pastoral melancholia. "The Skin And The Glove" deploys jangle to different effect baggy, soaring, grey skied kaleidoscopic pop in the spirit of Stone Roses, Primal Scream, and The Glove. Rachel Goswell lends her iconic freefall voice to The Cure - esque ballad, "Vanity," infusing poetic gravity to the doomed refrain: "If the valve breaks / then the earth quakes / and history finds a way / to put you in your place." "Yield To Force", the closing track of the EP, may be the most anomalous offering of the set. A 15 minute instrumental odyssey of cyclical strings, ominous slide guitar, and simmering synthesizer, the piece sways and spirals like a long zoom into distant storm clouds. Demure finesses the guitar with a restless but regal grandeur, unfolding a panorama of peaks, shadows, and plateaus. It's music both intuitive and prophetic, tracing the slow swing of pendulums across an endless plain. Taken as a whole, An Object In Motion presents a showcase of potential futures from Drab's evolving domain, their sound poised to bloom at the precipice of transformation.

Coke Bottle Clear Vinyl. High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before. Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me. It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

"Ob man sie nun Darkwave, Synth-Pop, Post-Punk, EBM oder anders nennen sollte, was Body of Light machen, ist Tanzmusik. Und was die Tanzmusik angeht, so trifft sie jede Genusszone genau ins Schwarze." - Treble Bitter Reflection, das vierte Album der Wüstenbrüder Alex und Andrew Jarson alias Body Of Light, verfeinert ihren schwelenden, stürmischen Synth-Pop zu einer transformativen Suite von Hymnen, Träumereien und Abrechnungen. Nach dem Neo-EBM-Klassiker "Time To Kill" (2019) suchten sie nach Inspirationen aus versteckten Momenten in ihren eigenen Arkanen - Kassetten aus der Kindheit, Heimvideos, verworfene Demos - und stellten sich die Frage: "Wie können wir das wachsen lassen?" Gesampelte Schnipsel von Stimmen, Geräuschen, Synthesizern und Feldaufnahmen flackern in der Peripherie der 11 Tracks von Bitter Reflection auf und murmeln wie halb vergessene Nostalgien oder verdrängte Erinnerungen. Zusammen mit Josh Eustis von Telefon Tel Aviv, haben Body Of Light in Los Angeles eine erweiterte Palette von Live-Instrumenten - Klavier, Bass, Saxophon, Akustikgitarre - zusätzlich zu alten Akai-Samplern, Moogs und archaischer Hardware in Bitter Reflection integriert, was dem Album eine eklektische, unvorhersehbare Sound-Palette verleiht. Dies ist Musik zwischen den Zwillingsflammen von Wahrheit und Sehnsucht, Romantik und Realität, Katharsis und Kontrolle, geboren aus einem Band, das durch Jahre, Träume und Blut besiegelt wurde. Bitter Reflection führt durch eine Galerie der anhaltenden Faszinationen von Body Of Light: Depeche-eske Deklarationen des Schreckens und des Exzesses, grüblerische Dancefloor-Epiphanien, liebeskranke Spiegel-Balladen mit orchestralen Stabs von Art Of Noise und sanfte Thomas-Dolby-Melancholien der Stadtsilhouette.

"Ob man sie nun Darkwave, Synth-Pop, Post-Punk, EBM oder anders nennen sollte, was Body of Light machen, ist Tanzmusik. Und was die Tanzmusik angeht, so trifft sie jede Genusszone genau ins Schwarze." - Treble Bitter Reflection, das vierte Album der Wüstenbrüder Alex und Andrew Jarson alias Body Of Light, verfeinert ihren schwelenden, stürmischen Synth-Pop zu einer transformativen Suite von Hymnen, Träumereien und Abrechnungen. Nach dem Neo-EBM-Klassiker "Time To Kill" (2019) suchten sie nach Inspirationen aus versteckten Momenten in ihren eigenen Arkanen - Kassetten aus der Kindheit, Heimvideos, verworfene Demos - und stellten sich die Frage: "Wie können wir das wachsen lassen?" Gesampelte Schnipsel von Stimmen, Geräuschen, Synthesizern und Feldaufnahmen flackern in der Peripherie der 11 Tracks von Bitter Reflection auf und murmeln wie halb vergessene Nostalgien oder verdrängte Erinnerungen. Zusammen mit Josh Eustis von Telefon Tel Aviv, haben Body Of Light in Los Angeles eine erweiterte Palette von Live-Instrumenten - Klavier, Bass, Saxophon, Akustikgitarre - zusätzlich zu alten Akai-Samplern, Moogs und archaischer Hardware in Bitter Reflection integriert, was dem Album eine eklektische, unvorhersehbare Sound-Palette verleiht. Dies ist Musik zwischen den Zwillingsflammen von Wahrheit und Sehnsucht, Romantik und Realität, Katharsis und Kontrolle, geboren aus einem Band, das durch Jahre, Träume und Blut besiegelt wurde. Bitter Reflection führt durch eine Galerie der anhaltenden Faszinationen von Body Of Light: Depeche-eske Deklarationen des Schreckens und des Exzesses, grüblerische Dancefloor-Epiphanien, liebeskranke Spiegel-Balladen mit orchestralen Stabs von Art Of Noise und sanfte Thomas-Dolby-Melancholien der Stadtsilhouette.

In 1980, Genesis P-Orridge and Peter 'Sleazy' Christopherson (then of Throbbing Gristle renown) travelled to New York City to meet up at the fortified apartment, known as The Bunker, of famed beat writer and cultural pioneer William S. Burroughs and his executor James Grauerholz to starting the daunting task to compile the experimental sounds works of Burroughs, which, up until that point, had never been heard. During those visits, Burroughs would play back his tape recorder experiments featuring his spoken word 'cut-ups', collaged field recordings from his travels and his flirtations with EVP recording techniques, pioneered by Latvian intellectual Konstantins Raudive. Throughout the next year, P-Orridge, Christopherson and Grauerholz would spent countless hours compiling various edits, each collection showcasing Burroughs sensitive ear and keen experimental prowess for audio anomaly within technical limitations. By the time 1981 came through, Burroughs had relocated to Lawrence, KS in which to escape the violence and mania of New York City life. It is in Lawrence that P-Orridge and Christopherson put the finishing touches on the record that would be known as 'Nothing Here Now but the Recordings'. The album would come out in the Spring of 1981 as the final release for the shuttering Industrial Records, brought about by the dissolution of Throbbing Gristle. The album remained out of print until 1998 when John Giorno and the Giorno Poetry Systems included the album on a multi-disc retrospective CD box set compiling the majority of Burroughs seminal recordings.

In 1980, Genesis P-Orridge and Peter 'Sleazy' Christopherson (then of Throbbing Gristle renown) travelled to New York City to meet up at the fortified apartment, known as The Bunker, of famed beat writer and cultural pioneer William S. Burroughs and his executor James Grauerholz to starting the daunting task to compile the experimental sounds works of Burroughs, which, up until that point, had never been heard. During those visits, Burroughs would play back his tape recorder experiments featuring his spoken word 'cut-ups', collaged field recordings from his travels and his flirtations with EVP recording techniques, pioneered by Latvian intellectual Konstantins Raudive. Throughout the next year, P-Orridge, Christopherson and Grauerholz would spent countless hours compiling various edits, each collection showcasing Burroughs sensitive ear and keen experimental prowess for audio anomaly within technical limitations. By the time 1981 came through, Burroughs had relocated to Lawrence, KS in which to escape the violence and mania of New York City life. It is in Lawrence that P-Orridge and Christopherson put the finishing touches on the record that would be known as 'Nothing Here Now but the Recordings'. The album would come out in the Spring of 1981 as the final release for the shuttering Industrial Records, brought about by the dissolution of Throbbing Gristle. The album remained out of print until 1998 when John Giorno and the Giorno Poetry Systems included the album on a multi-disc retrospective CD box set compiling the majority of Burroughs seminal recordings.

Inspired by the original Industrial Records release of William S. Burroughs's Nothing Here Now but the Recordings Belgian record label Sub Rosa worked with Burroughs to release another album: Break Through In Grey Room. Originally compiled in 1986 by producer Bill Rich, the album features Burroughs's experimental recordings from 1961 to 1976, featuring field recordings by Burroughs of the Master Musicians of Jajouka, experimental collaborations with mathematician Ian Sommerville and painter/cut-up originator Brion Gysin. Break Through In Grey Room documents William S. Burroughs during his time in Europe and England, working with Ian Sommerville on recording with the 'cut -up' technique. Sommerville's technical background enabled him to contribute to the early development of sound - and - light shows in London, leading to work with gear provided by Paul McCartney in an apartment owned by Ringo Starr. Experimental in nature, the record is as much an exhibition of studio and composition technique as it is a document of underground culture at that time. For the 2023 reissue, Dais Records has collaborated with the Estate of William S. Burroughs on reissuing the album on vinyl and compact disc, fully remastered by mastering engineer Josh Bonati.

Inspired by the original Industrial Records release of William S. Burroughs’s Nothing Here Now but the Recordings, Belgian record label Sub Rosa worked with Burroughs to release another album: Break Through In Grey Room. Originally compiled in 1986 by producer Bill Rich, the album features Burroughs's experimental recordings from 1961 to 1976, featuring field recordings by Burroughs of the Master Musicians of Jajouka, experimental collaborations with mathematician Ian Sommerville and painter/cut-up originator Brion Gysin.
Break Through In Grey Room documents William S. Burroughs during his time in Europe and England, working with Ian Sommerville on recording with the 'cut-up' technique. Sommerville's technical background enabled him to contribute to the early development of sound-and-light shows in London, leading to work with gear provided by Paul McCartney in an apartment owned by Ringo Starr. Experimental in nature, the record is as much an exhibition of studio and composition technique as it is a document of underground culture at that time.



For the 2023 reissue, Dais Records has collaborated with the Estate of William S. Burroughs on reissuing the album on vinyl and compact disc, fully remastered by mastering engineer Josh Bonati.

New York painter and musician exploratory industrialist Tor Lundvall initially envisioned his 14th album, Beautiful Illusions, as an entirely instrumental affair, "inspired by memories of sitting in a church or cathedral watching the shifting sunlight through stained glass." Although he ultimately chose to wreath the majority of the tracks with hushed, poetic vocals, his original muse still resonates. These are certainly songs of shadowplay and vaulted skies, the quiet grandeur of dusk deepening on the horizon. Lundvall characterizes the lyrical subject matter, too, in ways both specific and surreal, exploring "the doubts, the anxieties and even the bleak fantasies the mind spirals into during moments of isolation, separation and distance." Tricks of the eye, mind, and ear, magnified by silence and the looming long winter. Shivering pulses and muted bass lines tread the twilight while icicle synths and wiry guitar map the melody until the voice enters, narrating oblique moods of essence and absence, tenderness and truth. Glimpses of dark humor flicker in the wordplay but the greater sonic landscape is one of falling leaves and failing light, small gestures rendered as revelation, cloaked in reverb and spatial fog. Lundvall's mastery of nuance and negative space continues to heighten, whispered brushstrokes of the invisible and the unsaid, what lies beneath and what lies beyond: "Behind the shields and false fronts is usually a sadness. The heartbreaking reflections of what might have been."

lack Marble Vinyl! High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before.

Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me.

It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

Clear Vinyl

Queens Of The Circulating Library stands alongside Time Machines and Nurse With Wound's Soliloquy For Lilith as a post-industrial pinnacle of sensory-warping long-form drone. Crafted by the distilled duo of Thighpaulsandra and John Balance, the 49-minute piece unfurls in swirling, cyclical waves, tidal as much as textural, channeling the spirit of levitational minimalism pioneered by La Monte Young. Touted as the first part in "a continually mutating series of circulating musickal compositions" upon its initial release in 2000, the album remains a compelling case study in Coil's exceptional capacity for mutation and extremes. The theatrical introductory monologue delivered by Thighpaulsandra's mother - a career opera singer, in her 80's at the time of recording - sets the stage for a grandiose ascension. Written by Balance, the text is declamatory but dreamlike, refracted through megaphone echo: "Return the book of knowledge / Return the marble index / File under "Paradox" / The forest is a college, each tree a university." As her voice fades, the lulling synthetic infinity deepens, congealing into transient crests of volume and haze, like slow-motion surf misting in moonlight. Thighpaulsandra describes their aesthetic intention as a "bliss out," static but shape-shifting, an amniotic drift towards an eternal vanishing point. A supreme sonic embodiment of the slogan on the sleeve of Time Machines, two years prior: "Persistence is all.

The past few years have found Sean McBride, the artist behind Martial Canterel, in a state of flux, ebbing back and forth between material displacement and musical aestheticism. His expert pedigree in electronic sound and arrangement bridges the gap created by an undecidability between life at home and abroad His new album, Lost At Sea, is an attempt for the artist to locate this elusive common ground.The album's introductory track, Giving Up, has all of the hallmarks that Martial Canterel has utilized in the past_melodic chorus, upbeat rhythm and classic sequential dynamism. Where the song diverges is in its core theme of nature: nature's return to a period of restoration after the failures and recklessness of humankind.The slower pace of songs like Scampia and Puszta yearn for McBride's complex love affair with far flung destinations. Re-evaluating the political strife and social unrest in these historical locations, McBride delves deeper into political and geological reference points creating symbolic representations using mechanized percussion, white noise and various sine waves.The conceptual nature of Lost at Sea reaches even deeper depths within the waveforms of Astralize, a track based upon academic Donna Haraway's pre-civilized theories of human neglect after the `azstralization'.

Queens Of The Circulating Library stands alongside Time Machines and Nurse With Wound's Soliloquy For Lilith as a post-industrial pinnacle of sensory-warping long-form drone. Crafted by the distilled duo of Thighpaulsandra and John Balance, the 49-minute piece unfurls in swirling, cyclical waves, tidal as much as textural, channeling the spirit of levitational minimalism pioneered by La Monte Young. Touted as the first part in "a continually mutating series of circulating musickal compositions" upon its initial release in 2000, the album remains a compelling case study in Coil's exceptional capacity for mutation and extremes. The theatrical introductory monologue delivered by Thighpaulsandra's mother - a career opera singer, in her 80's at the time of recording - sets the stage for a grandiose ascension. Written by Balance, the text is declamatory but dreamlike, refracted through megaphone echo: "Return the book of knowledge / Return the marble index / File under "Paradox" / The forest is a college, each tree a university." As her voice fades, the lulling synthetic infinity deepens, congealing into transient crests of volume and haze, like slow-motion surf misting in moonlight. Thighpaulsandra describes their aesthetic intention as a "bliss out," static but shape-shifting, an amniotic drift towards an eternal vanishing point. A supreme sonic embodiment of the slogan on the sleeve of Time Machines, two years prior: "Persistence is all.

Transparent Blue Vinyl

Queens Of The Circulating Library stands alongside Time Machines and Nurse With Wound's Soliloquy For Lilith as a post-industrial pinnacle of sensory-warping long-form drone. Crafted by the distilled duo of Thighpaulsandra and John Balance, the 49-minute piece unfurls in swirling, cyclical waves, tidal as much as textural, channeling the spirit of levitational minimalism pioneered by La Monte Young. Touted as the first part in "a continually mutating series of circulating musickal compositions" upon its initial release in 2000, the album remains a compelling case study in Coil's exceptional capacity for mutation and extremes. The theatrical introductory monologue delivered by Thighpaulsandra's mother - a career opera singer, in her 80's at the time of recording - sets the stage for a grandiose ascension. Written by Balance, the text is declamatory but dreamlike, refracted through megaphone echo: "Return the book of knowledge / Return the marble index / File under "Paradox" / The forest is a college, each tree a university." As her voice fades, the lulling synthetic infinity deepens, congealing into transient crests of volume and haze, like slow-motion surf misting in moonlight. Thighpaulsandra describes their aesthetic intention as a "bliss out," static but shape-shifting, an amniotic drift towards an eternal vanishing point. A supreme sonic embodiment of the slogan on the sleeve of Time Machines, two years prior: "Persistence is all.

SoiSong is the stunning but short-lived partnership of Coil co-founder Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson and veteran Russian electronic experimentalist Ivan Pavlov. Though friends since 1997, the project birthed roughly a decade later in Bangkok, where Christopherson relocated following the death of his Coil collaborator John Balance in 2004. Named after the Thai word for `two' along with a notorious red-light district street nearby, the duo dialed into a cryptic language of lurching synthetics, Eastern minimalism, and interdimensional glitch, oscillating between elegance and mayhem. qXn948s collects some of their earliest recordings, and remains as transgressive and transcendent a listen now as it was upon its release a decade and a half ago. Pavlov characterizes SoiSong as less a musical group than a "utopian, semi-alien platform for collaboration, devoid of pronounced personality or centralized authority_ more like a message from elsewhere that anyone is welcome to participate in and spread." Every facet of the project was disruptive and oblique: self-released CDs packaged in elaborate origami that had to be destroyed to be accessed; a website with password protected sections, where different passwords were provided for different events, objects or releases; performance merchandise of headphones and a Walkman melted shut so the music can only be heard as long as the set of batteries last. Theirs was a muse as unprecedented as it was uncompromising, equal parts pranks and profundity. qXn948s began with samples and software composed intuitively in tandem before a large monitor, then progressively processed and scrambled into bewildering arrangements of digital frequencies, alternately spartan and claustrophobic, uneasy and uncanny. Vignettes of small melody emerge and are obliterated; gamelan-esque tones spiral above cybernetic pulse programming and funereal didgeridoo; skeletal piano meanders in the distance while flickering circuitry pummels patterns of white noise. Pavlov describes his and Christopherson's chemistry as "unspoken and sincere, and very efficient." That music this aggressively disorienting and complex congealed in a smoothly organic fashion is testament to the rare vision of its creators.