Dais Records News

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.