Dais Records News

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.

Clear Vinyl

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.

COLD GAWD ist der Name, unter dem der in Kalifornien lebende Multiinstrumentalist Matt Wainwright stürmische, verletzliche Shoegaze-Musik mit offenen Stimmungen und R&B-Melodien kreiert. Inspiriert von diesen Klängen, präsentieren COLD GAWD eine verfeinerte, modernisierte Version des Genres. Das insgesamt zweite Album der Band, "God Get Me The Fuck Out Of Here", nahm im Winter 2020 Gestalt an, während Wainwright lange Solo-Schichten in einem Coffee Shop in Chicago arbeitete. Angetrieben von dem Traum, in seine Heimatstadt Rancho Cucamonga zurückzukehren und alte Freunde aus früheren Hardcore-Bands wiederzutreffen, verkroch sich Wainwright mit seiner begehrten rosa Jazzmaster, einer Reihe von Effektpedalen und einem Laptop und schrieb das gesamte Album in einem Monat. Im März 2021 zog er zurück in den Westen ins Inland Empire, wo er bei Gabe Largaespada im Open Ocean Sessions zum Aufnehmen und Abmischen buchte. Obwohl er jedes Instrument selbst einspielte, haben die Ergebnisse das lebendige Gefühl einer geübten Live-Band (was COLD GAWD jetzt sind, da sie zu einer sechsköpfigen Band angewachsen sind). Kaskadenartige Gitarrenwände wirbeln, wallen und plätschern, umrahmt von versunkenen Rhythmen und Wainwrights entfernter, geschlagener Stimme, die in violetten Dunst gehüllt ist. Wainwright nennt die thematischen Gemeinsamkeiten zwischen Shoegaze und R&B als zentrale Muse, die beide obsessiv auf Liebe, Lust und Sehnsucht fixiert sind, in abwechselnd grandiosen und molligen Formen. Textlich schwankt das Album zwischen schräg und verzweifelt, sehnsüchtig und resigniert - mit Ausnahme von "Comfort Thug", einem grüblerischen, größtenteils improvisierten Spoken-Word-Stück, das durch den bemerkenswerten Mangel an schwarzen Musikern im Shoegaze inspiriert wurde. COLD GAWD ist hier, um das zu ändern. "God Get Me The Fuck Out Of Here" kanalisiert Unwohlsein und Melancholie in hauchdünne, energiegeladene Hymnen über Flucht, Veränderung und Introspektion. Das erdrückende Schlussstück "Passing Through The Opposite Of What It Approaches" wabert und schwebt wie drohende Gewitterwolken, unter denen Wainright singt (und sein Bandkollege Arturo Ramirez schreit), was einem Mission Statement so nahe kommt, wie es das Album bietet: "leave what you know / and get grown / everyday / remember / why you left".

COLD GAWD ist der Name, unter dem der in Kalifornien lebende Multiinstrumentalist Matt Wainwright stürmische, verletzliche Shoegaze-Musik mit offenen Stimmungen und R&B-Melodien kreiert. Inspiriert von diesen Klängen, präsentieren COLD GAWD eine verfeinerte, modernisierte Version des Genres. Das insgesamt zweite Album der Band, "God Get Me The Fuck Out Of Here", nahm im Winter 2020 Gestalt an, während Wainwright lange Solo-Schichten in einem Coffee Shop in Chicago arbeitete. Angetrieben von dem Traum, in seine Heimatstadt Rancho Cucamonga zurückzukehren und alte Freunde aus früheren Hardcore-Bands wiederzutreffen, verkroch sich Wainwright mit seiner begehrten rosa Jazzmaster, einer Reihe von Effektpedalen und einem Laptop und schrieb das gesamte Album in einem Monat. Im März 2021 zog er zurück in den Westen ins Inland Empire, wo er bei Gabe Largaespada im Open Ocean Sessions zum Aufnehmen und Abmischen buchte. Obwohl er jedes Instrument selbst einspielte, haben die Ergebnisse das lebendige Gefühl einer geübten Live-Band (was COLD GAWD jetzt sind, da sie zu einer sechsköpfigen Band angewachsen sind). Kaskadenartige Gitarrenwände wirbeln, wallen und plätschern, umrahmt von versunkenen Rhythmen und Wainwrights entfernter, geschlagener Stimme, die in violetten Dunst gehüllt ist. Wainwright nennt die thematischen Gemeinsamkeiten zwischen Shoegaze und R&B als zentrale Muse, die beide obsessiv auf Liebe, Lust und Sehnsucht fixiert sind, in abwechselnd grandiosen und molligen Formen. Textlich schwankt das Album zwischen schräg und verzweifelt, sehnsüchtig und resigniert - mit Ausnahme von "Comfort Thug", einem grüblerischen, größtenteils improvisierten Spoken-Word-Stück, das durch den bemerkenswerten Mangel an schwarzen Musikern im Shoegaze inspiriert wurde. COLD GAWD ist hier, um das zu ändern. "God Get Me The Fuck Out Of Here" kanalisiert Unwohlsein und Melancholie in hauchdünne, energiegeladene Hymnen über Flucht, Veränderung und Introspektion. Das erdrückende Schlussstück "Passing Through The Opposite Of What It Approaches" wabert und schwebt wie drohende Gewitterwolken, unter denen Wainright singt (und sein Bandkollege Arturo Ramirez schreit), was einem Mission Statement so nahe kommt, wie es das Album bietet: "leave what you know / and get grown / everyday / remember / why you left".

Exploring the bins of discarded vinyl in his neighborhood thrift stores, Drab Majesty's 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. Studying the harmonic oscillations and utilization of the occult power of vibratory frequency present in New Age sounds of Greek artist, IASOS, Drab Majesty's persona and posture revolve around the ethereal. 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.

Riki aus Los Angeles ist das dunkle Synthie-Pop-Projekt der mysteriösen Niff Nawor, einer visuellen Künstlerin und Musikerin, die in den Deathrock-/Anarcho-Punk-Szene der kalifornischen Bay Area aktiv ist. Bevor sie 2017 ihr Solo-Engagement als Riki begann, war sie Mitglied von Crimson Scarlet. Ihr Wunsch, ihren eigenen Sound zu erforschen, manifestierte sich 2017 in den Aufnahmen der "Hot City"-Kassette, veröffentlicht auf Commodity Tapes und später auf Vinyl beim angesehenen Symphony of Destruction Label. Riki trat in der Folge mit Acts wie Light Asylum, Black Marble und Trisomie 21 auf. Für ihr selbstbetiteltes Debütalbum für Dais erforscht Riki Mut, Körperlichkeit und Romantik in acht zeitlosen Synthie-Pop-Hymnen. Produziert von der Hardware-basierten Synthesistin Matia Simovich von INHALT, werden Einflüsse und Ideen mit Stolz getragen - nostalgische Verweise auf Neue Deutsch Welle, frühe Adrian Sherwood Produktionen, klassischen ZYX Italo Disco, und New Wave/Pop wie Pat Benatar, Kate Bush und early Madonna - ohne dabei von frischem und gewagtem Elektro-Pop-Territorium abzuweichen.

Riki aus Los Angeles ist das dunkle Synthie-Pop-Projekt der mysteriösen Niff Nawor, einer visuellen Künstlerin und Musikerin, die in den Deathrock-/Anarcho-Punk-Szene der kalifornischen Bay Area aktiv ist. Bevor sie 2017 ihr Solo-Engagement als Riki begann, war sie Mitglied von Crimson Scarlet. Ihr Wunsch, ihren eigenen Sound zu erforschen, manifestierte sich 2017 in den Aufnahmen der "Hot City"-Kassette, veröffentlicht auf Commodity Tapes und später auf Vinyl beim angesehenen Symphony of Destruction Label. Riki trat in der Folge mit Acts wie Light Asylum, Black Marble und Trisomie 21 auf. Für ihr selbstbetiteltes Debütalbum für Dais erforscht Riki Mut, Körperlichkeit und Romantik in acht zeitlosen Synthie-Pop-Hymnen. Produziert von der Hardware-basierten Synthesistin Matia Simovich von INHALT, werden Einflüsse und Ideen mit Stolz getragen - nostalgische Verweise auf Neue Deutsch Welle, frühe Adrian Sherwood Produktionen, klassischen ZYX Italo Disco, und New Wave/Pop wie Pat Benatar, Kate Bush und early Madonna - ohne dabei von frischem und gewagtem Elektro-Pop-Territorium abzuweichen.

As a collective thought, Spice's Self-Titled debut album offers a deliberate isolation of pain as interpreted through different vehicles. Less than 30-minutes in length, the record diverts from a singular mood, tempo, or delivery, instead focusing on orchestrating emotional drain as single impulses_fast, slow, driving, simple, and layered_that coalesce in their machinations. At its core, Spice's SelfTitled album is wired together by brawny and brittle guitars, lock-groove rhythms, and vocals announce each moment and mood. Formed in 2018 and based across California, each members' roots are in the North Bay of San Francisco. Comprised of Ross Farrar (vocals) and Jake Casarotti (drums), both of Ceremony, along with Cody Sullivan (bass), Ian Simpson (guitar), and Victoria Skudlarek (violin), Spice's sound pulls from the sense of melody and drive inherent to Bay Area pedigree, peppered with modernity and awash with an anthemic haze. The hook is in the connection as much as melody, with each song building its inner narrative and exploration of affliction. Traversing guitar-driven indie-pop and call-to-action impulse, Spice balances their urgency by interspersing violin melodies and layers, creating depth without oversaturating the heart of each song. Building complexity with laser focus, Spice shares the authoritative drive of Jawbreaker, J Church, The Horrors, and Fugazi, set in their own world of unrest. The treatment of each song is a statement that informs the whole - anecdotes that can bleed slowly or swirl quickly. In a sense, the Self-Titled album itself is an entire song, with each track becoming the verses, choruses, and interludes that narrate its intent. Ending with the final track they workshopped for the album titled "I Don't Wanna Die in New York," the album ends with a punch before winding back into meditation. Honed over late nights at Panda Studios in Fremont, California with producer Sam Pura (Basement, The Story So Far, Self Defense Family), Spice spent hours tweaking it until it became a little world formed by what they refer to as "the power of groupthink." Sprinkled with field recordings_audio snapshots from the member's every-day-lives_the record offers an intimate twist that builds on its theme of a single thread that connects everything with continuity, making it a single organism with as many depths as questions.

As a collective thought, Spice's Self-Titled debut album offers a deliberate isolation of pain as interpreted through different vehicles. Less than 30-minutes in length, the record diverts from a singular mood, tempo, or delivery, instead focusing on orchestrating emotional drain as single impulses_fast, slow, driving, simple, and layered_that coalesce in their machinations. At its core, Spice's SelfTitled album is wired together by brawny and brittle guitars, lock-groove rhythms, and vocals announce each moment and mood. Formed in 2018 and based across California, each members' roots are in the North Bay of San Francisco. Comprised of Ross Farrar (vocals) and Jake Casarotti (drums), both of Ceremony, along with Cody Sullivan (bass), Ian Simpson (guitar), and Victoria Skudlarek (violin), Spice's sound pulls from the sense of melody and drive inherent to Bay Area pedigree, peppered with modernity and awash with an anthemic haze. The hook is in the connection as much as melody, with each song building its inner narrative and exploration of affliction. Traversing guitar-driven indie-pop and call-to-action impulse, Spice balances their urgency by interspersing violin melodies and layers, creating depth without oversaturating the heart of each song. Building complexity with laser focus, Spice shares the authoritative drive of Jawbreaker, J Church, The Horrors, and Fugazi, set in their own world of unrest. The treatment of each song is a statement that informs the whole - anecdotes that can bleed slowly or swirl quickly. In a sense, the Self-Titled album itself is an entire song, with each track becoming the verses, choruses, and interludes that narrate its intent. Ending with the final track they workshopped for the album titled "I Don't Wanna Die in New York," the album ends with a punch before winding back into meditation. Honed over late nights at Panda Studios in Fremont, California with producer Sam Pura (Basement, The Story So Far, Self Defense Family), Spice spent hours tweaking it until it became a little world formed by what they refer to as "the power of groupthink." Sprinkled with field recordings_audio snapshots from the member's every-day-lives_the record offers an intimate twist that builds on its theme of a single thread that connects everything with continuity, making it a single organism with as many depths as questions.

New York electronic experimentalist Nicky Mao's 4th full-length, Silvercoat the throng, emerged against the backdrop of lockdown, compelled by an intuitive directive: “resist the urge to fill the space.” Compositionally this translated as a simmering, shadowy energy, veiled but variable, traced in a composite of strings, synthetics, rhythm, and voice. The title alludes to a poetic notion of “possibility, rescued from darkness,” which aptly evokes the shape-shifting, devotional feel of these ambitious and elegant sound designs, crafted in defiance of impermanence, driven by the pursuit of becoming “more and more articulated, differentiated.”

Collaborations with travis from ONO, Speaker Music, and Muqata'a further expand the album's lyrical, liminal palette, meshing elements of experimental techno, spoken word, neo-classical, and industrial noise into a fluid, encrypted dialect all its own. Mao speaks of creative strategies of solidification and reification, encounter and transformation, pure being and punctuation – a multitude

of sparks, fuses, and forking paths leading across fresh thresholds and twilit terrain. Taken as a whole, Silvercoat captures Hiro Kone at the peak of their powers, alchemizing disruption and decomposition into regenerative interior worlds: “Within the darkness and absence is an opportunity for discovery.”

Ever Crashing, the second LP by Kennedy Ashlyn aka SRSQ pronounced ‘seer-skew’, is the summation of a nearly three-year journey of soul searching, songwriting, and self-discovery: “I became myself in the process of making this record.” From the first choral swells of opener “It Always Rains,” it’s clear this collection exists on an ascendant plane, capturing an artist in super bloom. Every song hits like a single, heaving with guitar, synth, strings, live drums, and oceans of Ashlyn’s astounding voice, balletic and illuminated. The tracks gleam with detail, often assembled from as many as 100 separate tracks, all of which were written and played solely by Ashlyn – a feat of world-building as daunting as it is devastating.

For her, however, the process is intrinsic and intuitive – even a matter of survival. Her 2018 solo debut emerged in response to the tragic Ghost Ship fire in Oakland, which took the life of her bandmate and best friend Cash Askew. Similarly, Ever Crashing began materializing in the wake of an ADHD and bipolar disorder diagnosis, prompting a profound personal overhaul. Ashlyn cites such periods of turmoil as a muse of sorts, when “songs begin to echo within me,” gradually reverberating clearer and more vividly. As melodies and arrangements come into focus, the songs act like containers, vessels in which to externalize and exorcise tumultuous emotions, a transformation she memorializes in the climax of “Élan Vital:” “Reeling in and out of deep despair / I am saved by song.”

From swooning end credits balladry (“Dead Loss”) to orchestral slow-burn torch songs (“Abyss”) to dizzying shoegaze heavens (“Someday I Will Bask In The Sun”), the album exudes a sense of aching grandeur and bewildered joy, rich with triumphs hard won and lost loves never forgotten. Melodies pirouette and crescendo in dazzling, elevated acrobatics, somewhere between Kate Bush and The Sundays, threaded with ethereal undercurrents of shimmering shadow. Riffs brood and sparkle over crystalline synths, buoyant bass, and patient percussion, steadily building to holy moments of tidal power, finessed to perfection by producer Chris Coady (Beach House, Slowdive, Zola Jesus). Ashlyn’s is a dream-pop of questing catharsis, vulnerable but orchestral, as dense with hooks as heartbreak.

The album’s title refers to Ashlyn’s recurring sensation of being trapped in the crest of a wave, turned and churned in the surf, mirroring the cycles of self-flagellation and surrender that she battles being bipolar. But as the poetic raptures of these songs attest, her creative process thrives at transmuting trauma into potent music of arresting beauty and hidden divinity. Ever Crashing is an aching, rare work, shaded with gradients of reverie and regret, loss and letting go, “mourning the person I thought I should be, mourning the person I never was.” But even in its pain, Ashlyn’s voice exerts a redemptive gravity, yearning to transform and transcend: “Even on the inside / I’m bracing for impact / I’m waiting to destroy my life / To become sunlight.”

Ever Crashing, the second LP by Kennedy Ashlyn aka SRSQ pronounced ‘seer-skew’, is the summation of a nearly three-year journey of soul searching, songwriting, and self-discovery: “I became myself in the process of making this record.” From the first choral swells of opener “It Always Rains,” it’s clear this collection exists on an ascendant plane, capturing an artist in super bloom. Every song hits like a single, heaving with guitar, synth, strings, live drums, and oceans of Ashlyn’s astounding voice, balletic and illuminated. The tracks gleam with detail, often assembled from as many as 100 separate tracks, all of which were written and played solely by Ashlyn – a feat of world-building as daunting as it is devastating.

For her, however, the process is intrinsic and intuitive – even a matter of survival. Her 2018 solo debut emerged in response to the tragic Ghost Ship fire in Oakland, which took the life of her bandmate and best friend Cash Askew. Similarly, Ever Crashing began materializing in the wake of an ADHD and bipolar disorder diagnosis, prompting a profound personal overhaul. Ashlyn cites such periods of turmoil as a muse of sorts, when “songs begin to echo within me,” gradually reverberating clearer and more vividly. As melodies and arrangements come into focus, the songs act like containers, vessels in which to externalize and exorcise tumultuous emotions, a transformation she memorializes in the climax of “Élan Vital:” “Reeling in and out of deep despair / I am saved by song.”

From swooning end credits balladry (“Dead Loss”) to orchestral slow-burn torch songs (“Abyss”) to dizzying shoegaze heavens (“Someday I Will Bask In The Sun”), the album exudes a sense of aching grandeur and bewildered joy, rich with triumphs hard won and lost loves never forgotten. Melodies pirouette and crescendo in dazzling, elevated acrobatics, somewhere between Kate Bush and The Sundays, threaded with ethereal undercurrents of shimmering shadow. Riffs brood and sparkle over crystalline synths, buoyant bass, and patient percussion, steadily building to holy moments of tidal power, finessed to perfection by producer Chris Coady (Beach House, Slowdive, Zola Jesus). Ashlyn’s is a dream-pop of questing catharsis, vulnerable but orchestral, as dense with hooks as heartbreak.

The album’s title refers to Ashlyn’s recurring sensation of being trapped in the crest of a wave, turned and churned in the surf, mirroring the cycles of self-flagellation and surrender that she battles being bipolar. But as the poetic raptures of these songs attest, her creative process thrives at transmuting trauma into potent music of arresting beauty and hidden divinity. Ever Crashing is an aching, rare work, shaded with gradients of reverie and regret, loss and letting go, “mourning the person I thought I should be, mourning the person I never was.” But even in its pain, Ashlyn’s voice exerts a redemptive gravity, yearning to transform and transcend: “Even on the inside / I’m bracing for impact / I’m waiting to destroy my life / To become sunlight.”

The turn of the millennium ushered in an apex visionary phase for English esoteric duo Coil. Relocating from the city to the coastal quiet of Westonsuper-Mare freed them to follow even more fringe obsessions, fully untethered from peer influence. During a single six-month stretch in 2000 they released the devious underworld sequel to Music To Play In The Dark, arcane drone summit Queens Of The Circulating Library, and a malevolent hour-long synthesizer exorcism prophetically titled Constant Shallowness Leads To Evil. This latter work remains one of the group’s most miasmic and mind-expanding creations, on par with Time Machines – a sustained divination of shuddering, psychoactive noise, rippling with the motion sickness of an all-seeing eye.

Thighpaulsandra characterizes the album as “an exercise in brutality,” born from a thorny patch of his Serge modular unit that Peter “Sleazy” Christopherson found entrancing. Processing this sliver of electronics into a ravaged labyrinth was a trial and error process, aided by Christopherson’s visual sense of sound, stretching and manipulating it for maximum spatial disorientating. Frequencies nauseously crawl across the stereo field, burrowing into the ear like a sinister brainwashing experiment. An outlier / centerpiece is the 13-minute alien tribalist sea shanty, “I Am The Green Child,” guided by John Balance’s sung-spoken free verse concerning vengeance, oblivion, and insanity, culminating in the memorable refrain, “We're swimming in a sea of occidental vomit.” But the rest of the record seethes in unhinged instrumental chaos, divided into 18 micro-movements of a composition called “Tunnel Of Goats.” Intended to scramble the functionality of a CD player’s shuffle mode, the piece throbs, thrashes, and flatlines in compressed frenzies of twisted synthesis, at the threshold of some bottomless purgatory, forbidding and unknown.