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Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.

Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.

Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.

Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.

By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.

Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.

Jessica93, prodigal bastard of our glorious french squat scene, relocated on Born Bad : this is no picnic. Geoffroy Laporte, alone against all odds, alternates bass and guitar to build harsh loops with a drum machine spitting pre-Gulf War patterns. That’s where it gets tricky : every musical posse claims him. Grunge, sure, but Jessica doesn’t indulge in necrophilia. His circuit is punk, he doesn’t dress the part though. Cold wave, the atmosphere fits somehow, but the gear does not. The self-confident rock horde saw him playing with hair in his eyes… but he never joined the Party. Metal had something to say but sadly, nobody listened. Maybe it's time to give it a rest and let Jessica93 cook his great misery broth on her own, called « 666 tours de périph’ » (666 laps on the beltway). Witnessing Jessica93 live makes you dread that he'll get up the next morning, drive 200 miles and one nap later kick it again, when it takes us a good week to recover from the bad half of that same evening. Like so many other unknown soldiers during our very own world war of music, he patrols small venues relentlessly.



At the heart of this cultural pentacle painted by french weirdos Bryan's Magic Tears, and Carine Krinator, Jessica93 has built a sound validated by years of chosen vagrancy, birthing bands with joyously stupid monikers, in the humid jungle of small labels. Jessica93's debut album had a track celebrating Omar Little, HBO’s gay bandit from Baltimore. This story begins on the beltway, where Florence Rey, accidental copkiller turned to political icon of the 90’s. Geoffroy offers his brilliant analysis : " C’est la police qui nous tire d’ssus / C’est mon trou d’balle qui leur chie d’ssus « (Police shoots us down / my dripping asshole gets the job done).



A previous album was haunted by bedbugs, this one is essentially about love, a delicious scourge just as hard to eradicate. Two black diamonds peek out of the LP : ’’La colline du crack’’, heartbreak song about the ultimate temptation of violent delights, located on crackhead central in Paris. The brilliant chorus, ‘Take my hand and come with me to Crack Hill’ will put an end to the rumours, almost everything was really false. And Bébé Requin, alternative obituary that’ll make you shiver, where our nice couple states ‘’on kiffe la drogue dure et les ptits chiens’ (‘we love hard drugs and little dogs’). And that is the reason we face the wall of sound jostled by unnecessary shoulder thrusts: those nice fat chunks of charcoal poetry, hidden under light sarcasm.



The rest of the record demonstrates the know-how acquired in loop-by-loop construction of ruins that are pleasant to squat in together. There’s your classic doom delicatessen, with bits of heavy metal inside, crafted with the manic care typical of hard wankers. Arthur Satàn, who produced and mixed the album at home in Bordeaux, helped him get his head out of the reverb safe house. And Jessica93 took the opportunity to switch to the dark side of the language : french at last. Worth the wait ! Sing along : « nique sa mère / nique sa grosse mère » (translate that yourself).

"Astral Americana hymns hovering somewhere between the dirt and the stars" Pitchfork

"Mood music for moments of solitude, best experienced without distraction" The Times

"Overwhelmingly effective and ravishingly beautiful" The Wire

American Dust is an ode to the beauty of the American Southwest, where vast desert landscapes hold stories both stark and tender. Eve Adams’ characteristic folk noir weaves a vivid tapestry of love, sacrifice and quiet revelation, conjuring images of dust storms, stray dogs and far off trains.

The high desert of California is a vast and confounding place. Equally inspiring as it is punishing, it’s a landscape that carries magic in its deep dark nights, holding stories both tender and stark in the coarse layer of dust that settles upon everything. It’s long been a source of inspiration for musicians, writers, and painters, each of them adding to the same current, carried forward over time, through hope and hardship and the passing years.

Somewhere out there in that broad and boundless landscape, Eve Adams has been living her own desert life, quietly writing the follow-up to 2021’s Metal Bird LP. Where that album sang of liminal space, the dream-like turbulence of Hollywood’s golden age, American Dust is far more rooted in traditional storytelling; a eulogy for the American Dream channeled through that sweeping part of the country that holds such power and mystery. Slipping into different and varied costumes throughout its ten songs, it finds Eve not just observing the people around her but stepping into their shoes and peeling back the layers of their quiet lives.

Adams writes from within. A few years ago she moved out there, to “the middle of nowhere”, finding a slowness that didn’t exist in the city, and she knows only too well about the mystical nature of the land and those who live within it. Weaving together themes of grit and romance, American Dust holds its focus on the bittersweet poetry of lives lived in solitude, most notably the women who sustain life at the center of it all. “There’s something very radical about domestic life,” Adams says of this thread. “So many women live their entire lives behind closed doors, completely in the shadows. Within those lives is such sacrifice, devotion, and love. I wanted to honor that: the poetry in the mundane, the longing in the repetition. The way love survives boredom and dust and time.”

Eve is joined on American Dust by Canadian musician Bryce Cloghesy, aka Military Genius of Crack Cloud, who plays throughout and also helped produce the album. Musically bold and vivid, it’s an ambitious and detailed stride forward from what’s come before, the scope of the LP’s narrative reflected in the radiant sweep of the playing. On top of gentle piano and guitar, gorgeous strings drift through the album, lending the songs a woozy sense of romanticism; a collaboration with Gamaliel Traynor (Cello) and Caroline’s Oliver Hamilton (Violin).

For all the drama that’s coiled around these songs, it’s the recurring notion of love and hope fighting against everything that holds true throughout American Dust. Musically it’s lush and vibrant, intimate and cinematic side by side, and always bursting with warmth. But it’s what it holds in its weary bones that elevates it to something truly special, something more than just a collection of songs penned in the heart of the desert. The characters it speaks of, and from, feel shadowed but wholly real, like they’re bursting to share their stories that have remained hidden for years and years and they allow Eve Adams to grow as a songwriter right in front of our eyes.

“The same swirling dust that clung to the covered wagons of my ancestors as they crossed the Great American Desert is the same dust my great-great-grandmother swept off her porch during the Dust Bowl of 1936 in Oklahoma, is the same dust that blows in through the cracks in my windows here in the desert, carrying stories from a time long gone,” Eve says, reflecting on the personal narrative that runs through her new album.

“It’s not just dust—it’s American Dust, the kind that settles into the bones of a family and never leaves. I think about that dust as a symbol of the passage of time. I hope this album will be part of that same current, carrying forward for the next generations of my family to find. I’ve been lucky enough to have journals and poetry from my ancestors that documents their lives during times of pure hope and pure hardship. I’d like to think of this album as a contribution to that family history.”

David Lowery (Cracker, Camper Van Beethoven) to release his new 28-track solo album. "Fathers, Sons and Brothers" is David"s musical autobiography, celebrating his youth, family, friends and the highs and lows of his lengthy 40-year career in the music business. The album combines three of David"s previously online-only released autobiographical solo albums "In The Shadow of the Bull", "Leaving Key Member Clause", and "Vending Machine", and also includes four new previously unreleased songs, as well as four newly re-recorded tracks: He"s been writing songs about people on the fringe for damn near a lifetime. 40+ years of detailing the idiosyncrasies of outcasts, losers, freaks and outliers in society in his two acclaimed, if not totally different, bands - Cracker and Camper Van Beethoven.

Celebrating 55 years in the music business! Swami John Reis is back with his second LP in eight months. Time To Let You Down is a savage blast of junk shoppe punk that kicks you in the ding ding. This eleven track LP is chock full of fist pumpers, head bumpers, stinky dumpers, meaty thumpers and toe stumpers. The tempos are often breakneck and the dense arrangements tumble like bricks into hot cheese. The undeniable sonic girth barges at will into lathered ear tubes allowing these barbaric anthems to echo in hollow domes. Feel the whip crack break skin on the acne scarred backs of our cultural oppressors. The sound is tough. The songs are a bitch. Incite your expectations with the single “Fed To The Dogs” or the title track. Salty leather and wobbly chain link fences can’t contain its rebel intent. These recordings took place Oct. 2024 and features Swami John Reis on guitar and vocals with contributions from Jason Sinclair (Hot Snakes), Joey Guevara (Swami and the Bed Of Nails), Jacob Turnbloom (Mrs. Magician) and Glen Galloway (Truman’s Water). The record was produced by John Reis, engineered and mixed by Ben Moore and mastered by Dave Gardner. Time To Let You Down is pressed on virgin, Egyptian pellets and available in limited, colorful vinyl that have been hand-swirled. You’ll not only clearly hear the difference, you will see it as well.

Smiling with No Teeth is the full length debut studio album by Ghanaian Australian artist Genesis Owusu.
The record channels Owusu's experiences with racism and depression into a gloriously chaotic collage of mutant rap, digital dub, electro-punk and psychedelic funk, heralding the arrival of Australia’s most unpredictable auteur.
Smiling with No Teeth was incredibly well received by fans and critics alike, winning 4 x ARIAS at the 2021 awards including album of the year.
The record was featured on multiple end of year best of lists including NME, Paste and triple j. Spin Magazine called it - "Equal parts musical shape-shifter, limitless creative beast, badass, humorous and undefined, Genesis Owusu is a little bit of everything and everyone. This Daybreaker has come onto the scene with a monstrously diverse and impactful project, "Smiling With No Teeth", which has quickly positioned him as an ambitious artist with mass potential to be a true pioneer in today's music scene."

Reeling In The Weeks—which felt like Years — after my first Current 93 album, I had started on the difficult second C93 album, DOGS BLOOD RISING.

Having been asked to appear on both Top Of The Pops AND The Old Grey Whistle Test 93 times in the same week after the release of NATURE UNVEILED, I realised that God was telling me that I had hit on a winning formula of Christian eschatology and Apocalyptic Christian texts over a SoundScape As Cool As Flies, but that I was missing the vital ingredient of a Simon & Garfunkel song. DOGS BLOOD RISING — which I described to myself in a VISION as an album which hoped, wished, and made bad trips sound like good trips — was essentially the Mirror Night of NATURE UNVEILED, although only half of it was recorded at Roundhouse Studios. Squats were calling, and 8-track studios were all I was able to afford. DOGS BLOOD RISING didn’t chart, except in my NightSweats. Listening to it now, it makes me as restless as I was then, staring beyond the windows there, watching and praying for something, someone, anything, anyone.

Remastered by The Bricoleur at Bladud Flies!, and with the original artwork refreshed and reborn by Rob Hopeye, this 12” vinyl picture-disc comes in a full-colour die-cut sleeve, which is printed on both the outside and inside.

This is one of the first 4 reissues of the entire back catalogue of C93 on picture-disc and standard vinyl, in the lead-up to the publication of my autobiography at the end of 2025, whilst I also work on many other recording, publishing, and painting projects, and Watch And Pray! Each release in the picture-disc vinyl reissues series is limited to 1,000 copies, and the titles will not be repressed as picture-discs once they have sold out.

Originally released on tape by SicSic in 2014, Aprilnacht commemorates a decade of music from Brannten Schnüre and marked the spring in a tetralogy of albums about the four seasons when it came out. Back then the Würzburg-based project consisted solely of Christian Schoppik, who later welcomed Katie Rich to take over the vocals. He used to perform as Agnes Beil, but dropped the name when, while making this album realized his music was becoming "much gentler and more fragile". Aprilnacht already captured the particular musical ideas that Schoppik would thoroughly keep exploring, delving deeper and deeper into the use and manipulation of samplers from sources so diverging as to wander between the five continents to post-war German family television and cult cinema. Heir of the ritualistic intensity of Coil, of the intricate sampler assemblies of Ghédalia Tazartès', and of the dusty, dismal old ballads from around the world, Brannten Schnüre manages to make these paths cross in a territory that is as inherent as it is uncanny; sieged by the past and intimate as a hearth. An organic approach to folk, ambient, and sound collage, where ethereal yet thoroughly textured pieces coalesce in enthralling, delicate, and innermost musical rituals.

The album cover paintings reveal the temper: dreary old towns where shadows come to dim the slow passage of crepuscular colors, a soft area of reanimation where wind and light come close and foresee the night of spring. Aprilnacht was inspired by the stories of German philosopher and writer Friedrich Alfred Schmid Noerr, whose work exhaustively examines the conflict between paganism and Christianity, safeguarding myth in a way that Schoppik describes as boldly modern, humorous and unpredictable in its variations of the Germanic folklore motifs. "I wanted to do the same with the music," he states, and the music here could as well be suitable for a night when household deities welcome wandering will-o'-the-wisps, water nymphs, and gyrovagues to discuss Perchta's leadership of The Wild Hunt, but this album is not a folk tale, it's not an elegy to worlds already gone, hidden in years; it's an intersection of routes that open mysteriously before our ears like a congregation of vapors. Aprilnacht is a gathering of voices; "There are too many children, and none of them keeps quiet," reads the last verse of «Requiem für eine Ringelnatter.»

Sensuality drips over the music to celebrate both the voluptuousness and tragic quality of nature; "It's raining on me, urine from your flowers," Schoppik sings in «Urin deiner Blüten» and later on, faced with a snake's erotic features, as if he wanted to be embraced by it: "Your quick, sharp tongue and your warm venom; that's what the pond is missing." Orality is where this profusion of contents thrives. When the voices get closer and condense, the words reveal the saliva employed to pronounce them; we feel the mouth and the tongue, but when breath envelops them in sorrow and softens their edges, they sound distant, diffused in the atmosphere, letting go of the body that held them. These two vocal facets oscillate permanently and interact naturally with the fertile assembly of samplers and instruments that develop throughout the album, which condense and disperse impersonating each other, interweaving to search for a specific syntax. Tangled whisperings of enigmatic phrases, timid voices that stick out to check the scene but hide away quickly, shivering trance chants and monastic ambiances, distant screams and clamors in between chaos and warfare swirl until bursting into subtle songs where even Mother Mary comes forth softly. Soothed by foggy atmospheres and crackling punctuations, these voices shape a vulnerable crowd, an occasion of fragility. Along this swarm of songs thrown into thin air, accordions sound like heavy-breathing lungs; clarinets sigh like curtains shaking; violin solos wander around like bees; Gjallarhorns cries distend like fleeing cattle; glockenspiels evoke remote music boxes and inherited toys; backward emanations emerge like slender waves retreating. On the banks of stretching loops and ember textures is where the songs slowly nest, collecting the words to find their tone.

A poem by Jorge Teillier says, "To talk with the dead you have to choose words that they recognize as easily as their hands recognized the fur of their dogs in the dark. To talk with the dead you have to know how to wait: they are fearful like the first steps of a child. But if we are patient one day they will answer us with a flame that suddenly revives in the fireplace." This may be Brannten Schnüre's main purpose: To find the voice to speak to those of whom we were a vision. Not in mourning, but acknowledging the obscure and volatile nature of spring's regenerative force, searching for the treasure of balance, as evidenced in the lyrics of «Requiem für ein Schwalbennest,» "Its nest was destroyed so many times before it was finished, and despite that, the shallow builds as if it is infatuated." The same idea is here in the words of Schmid Noerr, who made poetry an act of resistance to the horror of Nazism; "Since having seen the ability of a brilliant spirit to die, with a calm mouth that everyone saw, health is true again and we affirm it, even if rivers of blood flow." And as we call for the dusk's kindness, waiting to return home and eat with our kin by the stove, our ears become used to the games of the night. We feel like we're rowing on wetlands, while the "moon musick" keeps us vigilant against the slightest movement of water or sweet moan because eeriness here is imperative for survival. Do not succumb to the insipid howl of death, for nothing may last but mutability. You see, the rock has moved a little during the night; the rest is just wind fleeing from the void.

The DIAMOND DOGS ladies and gentlemen!
One of the world's finest pure rock & roll bands, still doing it just how they please, sounding better than ever.
New record "About The Hardest Nut To Crack" was recorded live. 12 brilliant tracks, all mixed/produced/written and arranged from scratch at Strawberry Studios over eight days in the early spring of 2023. It's a hell of a statement!

Sound Like: The Faces, Rod Stewart, Ronnie Lane, Ronnie Wood, J Geils Band.

Nach der Veröffentlichung der 2CD-Version des Albums Moonage Daydream im letzten Jahr, wird der Soundtrack nun am 31. März als 3LP Vinyl veröffentlicht.

"Moonage Daydream" beleuchtet das Leben und Genie von David Bowie, einem der produktivsten und einflussreichsten Künstler der jüngeren Musikgeschichte.
Auf Spielfilmlänge nimmt uns Brett Morgen mit in die Welt Bowies, erforscht anhand von großartigem, vielfältigem und nie zuvor gesehenem Filmmaterial, Live-Auftritten und Musik (Morgen sichtete vier Jahre die Archive des David Bowie Estates) seine kreative, musikalische und spirituelle Reise.
Durch den Film führt uns dabei die Erzählerstimme von David Bowie selbst.
Das Begleitalbum zu "Moonage Dream" enthält Songs aus Bowies gesamter Karriere, darunter bisher ungehörtes Material, speziell für den Film und dieses Album angefertigte Mixe und Gesprächspassagen Bowies.

Zu den Highlights des Tracklistings zählen ein bisher unveröffentlichtes Live-Medley von "The Jean Genie / Love Me Do / The Jean Genie", aufgenommen beim berühmt-berüchtigten letzten Ziggy-Stardust-Konzert im Londoner Hammersmith Odeon 1973 und mit Jeff Beck an der Gitarre. Weitere Raritäten sind eine frühe Version
des Hunky-Dory-Favoriten "Quicksand" und eine bisher unveröffentlichte Live-Version von "Rock 'n' Roll With Me", mitgeschnitten bei der legendären "Soul Tour" 1974.

• DELUXE HEAVYWEIGHT SLEEVE WITH SPOT-VARNISH AND ALTERNATIVE ARTWORK
• INCLUDING INSERT WITH LINER NOTES
• PVC PROTECTIVE SLEEVE
• 1994 BANK HEIST MOVIE PRODUCED BY ROGER AVARY & QUENTIN TARANTINO
• SCORE BY TOMANDANDY (THE HILLS HAVE EYES, THE STRANGERS)
• AVAILABLE ON VINYL FOR THE FIRST TIME
• LIMITED EDITION OF 2000 INDIVIDUALLY NUMBERED COPIES ON FLAMING COLOURED VINYL

Killing Zoe is a 1994 crime / bank heist film written, directed and produced by Roger Avary and co-produced by Quentin Tarantino. Killing Zoe follows the story of a safe cracker named Zed who returns to France to aid an old friend in performing a doomed bank heist. The film was labeled by acclaimed film critic Roger Ebert as “Generation X’s first bank caper movie”. After the production of Killing Zoe, Avary and Tarantino continued their collaboration and produced both the iconic award winning movie Pulp Fiction and several radio dialogues in Reservoir Dogs.

The score to Killing Zoe was produced by Tomandandy, aka Thomas Hajdu and Andy Milburn. This duo is best known for their horror scores like The Hills Have Eyes and The Strangers amongst others and many collaborations with great artists such as Lou Reed, David Byrne, U2 and Laurie Anderson.

Killing Zoe is available on vinyl for the first time as a limited edition of 2000 individually numbered copies on flaming coloured vinyl and includes an insert with liner notes.

• DELUXE HEAVYWEIGHT SLEEVE WITH SPOT-VARNISH AND ALTERNATIVE ARTWORK
• INCLUDING INSERT WITH LINER NOTES
• PVC PROTECTIVE SLEEVE
• 1994 BANK HEIST MOVIE PRODUCED BY ROGER AVARY & QUENTIN TARANTINO
• SCORE BY TOMANDANDY (THE HILLS HAVE EYES, THE STRANGERS)
• AVAILABLE ON VINYL FOR THE FIRST TIME

Killing Zoe is a 1994 crime / bank heist film written, directed and produced by Roger Avary and co-produced by Quentin Tarantino. Killing Zoe follows the story of a safe cracker named Zed who returns to France to aid an old friend in performing a doomed bank heist. The film was labeled by acclaimed film critic Roger Ebert as “Generation X’s first bank caper movie”. After the production of Killing Zoe, Avary and Tarantino continued their collaboration and produced both the iconic award winning movie Pulp Fiction and several radio dialogues in Reservoir Dogs.

The score to Killing Zoe was produced by Tomandandy, aka Thomas Hajdu and Andy Milburn. This duo is best known for their horror scores like The Hills Have Eyes and The Strangers amongst others and many collaborations with great artists such as Lou Reed, David Byrne, U2 and Laurie Anderson.

Killing Zoe is available on vinyl for the first time as a limited edition of 2000 individually numbered copies on flaming coloured vinyl and includes an insert with liner notes.

Anthology introducing the first of a series of albums based on the concept of Aquapelago.

‘’ Since the earliest days of the planet there has been a rhythm of tides that creates coastal interzones where humans have foraged and pursued various livelihoods. Developing boats to fish from and technologies that enabled them to immerse themselves deep underwater, the aquatic realm has been one explored, experienced and imagined in various ways. In an effort to express the vitality and richness of this environment I coined the term aquapelago in 2012. The wordplay was deliberate. The neologism was designed to distinguish the liquid inbetweenness of this space from the dry, scattered, lands of archipelagos.

The concept of the aquapelago coalesced around themes taken from various places. Epeli Hau’ofa’s idea of an Oceanic “sea of islands’” was formative but a number of songs were also inspirational. Torres Strait islander Seaman Dan captivated me with his experiences of pearl diving in the Darnley Deeps in his song ‘Forty Fathoms’ and Norfolk Islander singer Kath King imaged how sea-turtles might have experienced ecological change in her song ‘Tech me how fer lew’. Other reflections on watery realms also appealed. Debussy’s solo piano piece ‘La cathédrale engloutie’ soundtracked me as I researched myths of lost Lyonesse while Mike Cooper’s Kiribati, an ambient exoticist album about the imperilled archipelago (recently re-released on Discrepant), caused me to reflect on the social and cultural impact of sea level rise before that topic became a high-profile concern.

This compilation album takes the concept of the aquapelago into new depths and breaches it on fresh shores. The tracks are soaked with the aquatic. Bassy sonorities boom as if heard deep underwater. Bubbly textures breach the surface, water drips and seabirds soar high above waves. Sugai Kei samples fragments of text concerning the Ningen, a fantastic humanoid/whale that reflects the ‘aquapelagic imaginary’ of modern Japan and its preoccupation with industrial whaling. Andrew Pekler continues the orientation of his Phantom Islands project - a sonic atlas of imaginary places - with a soundscape as if heard by a swimmer just offshore, mixing sounds of the island and the sea together. Mike Cooper’s sonic reflection on Hong Kong’s Lamma Island is similar, combining the island’s ubiquitous barking dogs with the slurp of waves on rocky shores, conjuring a languorous time before Chinese crackdowns on the territory.

Taking another tack, the Dead Mauriacs gleefully water-ski through collage of tropical island exoticisms, replete with glitchy orientalism, while Babau combines skittering idiophone melodies with resonant glissandi. Vica Pacheco moves between dense and airy sounds, as if crossing between surf lines and the space above. Yannkick Dauby’s track is also imbued with in-betweenness, evoking ambient sounds heard through a ship’s hull. Sculpture’s ‘Froth Surfer’ realises its title, with bubbling sounds and rhythms that evoke Hawaiian surfing filtered through layers of time and distance. Reminding us of the shore necessary for aquapelagic spaces, Franceso Cavaliere and Tomoko Sauvage’s composition anchors the album, centred around shaken rhythms and resonant ringing tones and drones.

Taken together, the album sketches the contours of the aquapelago as it might be imagined and conjured in sound – an endless oceanic realm that laps on to beaches and crashes against cliffs. The performers navigate this space under alternately starry and cloudy skies, orientating themselves with sounds, textures and sonic samples of their terrestrial homes while we float with them. ‘’
Philip Hayward December 2021

• 180g Picture Disc in Die-Cut Sleeve • Best of Bowie’s legendary performance from the Universal Amphitheater, Los Angeles • Broadcast on KMET-FM • Digitally remastered for greatly enhanced sound quality • Background liners

“Come out of the garden, baby”, and revel in the sounds of David Bowie’s spectacular Diamond Dogs Tour. Protus very proudly brings together the best of Bowie’s gig at the Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles, 5 September 1974, broadcast live by 'KMET' radio station, which featured an extraordinary set list showcasing work from several key Bowie albums including Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars, Aladdin Sane, Hunky Dory, and of course, Diamond Dogs.

One of the most expensive tours in popular music history, the tour and the album helped the star to crack the North American market.

David Bowie – Vocals
Michael Kamen – Electric Piano, Moog Synthesizer, Oboe
Mike Garson – Piano, Mellotron
Earl Slick – Guitar
Carlos Alomar – Rhythm Guitar
David Sanborn – Alto Saxophone, Flute
Richard Grando – Baritone Saxophone, Flute
Doug Rauch – Bass
Greg Errico – Drums
Pablo Rosario – Percussion
Gui Andrisano – Backing Vocals
Warren Peace – Backing Vocals
Ava Cherry – Backing Vocals
Robin Clark – Backing Vocals
Anthony Hinton – Backing Vocals
Diane Sumler – Backing Vocals
Luther Vandross – Backing Vocals