quête:drop e paths of pain

‘Confession' is an album of quiet upheaval. An album about closeness that arrives late and unexpectedly. About stability rubbing up against desire. About the way friendship can suddenly tilt into something charged — and how that charge unsettles everything around it. Where earlier work often observed from a distance, Confession turns inward. The voice is closer, warmer, less shielded. “This wasn’t the album I intended to make,” says Carla dal Forno. “I originally wanted something veiled and abstract, but I realised I couldn’t hide behind abstraction — the songs only worked when I leaned into emotional truth.”

This is dal Forno’s fourth LP, written and recorded over several years in a small country town, in a studio housed inside a partially abandoned hospital. Long corridors, humming lights, emptied rooms — a place built for care and waiting, now quiet enough for thoughts to echo. That stillness shapes the record: intimate, watchful, unadorned. “I live in a small country town that offers a stillness my life didn’t previously have,” she explains. “In that quiet, feelings I might’ve ignored in a busy city grew loud.” Dal Forno sings plainly and conversationally, with an emotional precision that sharpens the everyday into something quietly unsettling.

The album moves through paired states: going out and staying in, wanting and withholding, devotion and distraction. Domestic calm set against private unrest. A long-held relationship offers safety and routine, while a newer connection opens emotional fault lines — longing, jealousy, fantasy, self-exposure. “At the heart of the album is a friendship that became emotionally charged in an unexpected way,” dal Forno says. “That shift brought daydreaming, jealousy, tenderness, confusion, self-awareness — and eventually acceptance.”

The drama here is internal, incremental, lived. Musically, Confession feels lighter on its feet than its subject matter suggests. Melodic basslines anchor the songs while guitars, harmonies, and gently off-kilter rhythms move around them. There’s a looseness, even a playfulness — “like the sensation of tension lifting once you finally admit something to yourself,” as dal Forno puts it. The album traces a subtle arc: attraction blooming where it shouldn’t; obsession quietly taking hold; fantasy overtaking reality; clarity arriving slowly, sometimes painfully. Visually and emotionally, Confession returns to modest spaces: backyards, beds, night streets, overgrown paths. “The record exists in that contrast,” dal Forno reflects. “Peaceful surroundings, unsettled interior.”

Like all of dal Forno’s work, Confession resists clean conclusions. It doesn’t moralise desire or romanticise restraint. Instead, it lingers in the in-between — where love is stable but not total, where yearning teaches as much as it hurts, where solitude becomes a form of care. Plain-spoken but emotionally complex. Rooted and restless. Held together by bass, breath, routine, weather. An album about admitting what you feel —and living with what that admission changes.

I Made It All Up For You is the new record by Hugo Race Fatalists, their 6th studio album, set for release March 20, 2026 thru Gusstaff Records / Helixed on LP/CD and digital.
"In his 40-year career, Hugo Race has lived a thousand lives and played the role of songwriter, producer, musician, performer, head of a record label (Helixed). His music went from folk to lounge, from "trance industrial blues" to psychedelia, from world music to electronics. Starting from post-punk Melbourne in the 1980s, he took fascinating paths that led him from Africa to Turkey, from Berlin to Romagna…"
Hugo Race returns after highly successful collaborative albums with Michelangelo Russo (100 Years), The Church frontman Steve Kilbey (Speed of the Stars) and Gianni Maraccolo (The Vigil, winner of the prestigious Premio Ciampi) with I Made It All Up For You, an epic album with his Italian band Fatalists - existential songwriting framed by the band's signature fusion of roots music, electronica, Italian soundtracks and desert rock.
"I wanted to create something melodic and beautiful in defiance of our current reality. The songs started as bare acoustic sketches written in a remote mountain cabin in Italy where I had two weeks off during a solo tour. The weather turned into a raging blizzard, the days a struggle to keep the wood fire lit and the smoke out of the house. I wrote about twelve songs, threw them all away, started again with an unplugged electric guitar in front of that
damp fire, searching for the album's theme. When the smoke cleared, I was at the crossroads of a long term relationship unraveling under a blazing antipodean sun.
Fatalists recorded the basic tracks at the floating studio on the Puccini lake an hour out of Florence - Giovanni Ferrario (Scisma, PJ Harvey) on guitars and synth, Francesco Giampaoli (Brutture Moderne) on bass and Diego Sapignoli (Sacri Cuori) on percussion.
Violinist Massimiliano Gallo met me in Sicily for a short tour to learn the new songs, adding layers of his Calabrian magic to the mix. Jennifer Charles (singer of New York band Elysian Fields) and I had been talking for a long time about making new music and this was the occasion when we made it happen. Jennifer's distinctive voice graces this
album on the songs I Collide and Broken Love, the lyrics of which were written by author and designer Alannah Hill. My longtime road brother Michelangelo Russo also dusts the tracks with his otherworldly electric harmonica on Against The World, Born To Fly and Open Field. A lot of joy and pain and reflection went into the making of this album and I hope that comes across; this is about the darkness yes, but also the light. Everything changes and every ending is a new beginning but it's how we experience transformation that really matters. I hope you love this album. I made it all up for you."
Hugo Race, Naples, 2025

I Made It All Up For You is the new record by Hugo Race Fatalists, their 6th studio album, set for release March 20, 2026 thru Gusstaff Records / Helixed on LP/CD and digital.
"In his 40-year career, Hugo Race has lived a thousand lives and played the role of songwriter, producer, musician, performer, head of a record label (Helixed). His music went from folk to lounge, from "trance industrial blues" to psychedelia, from world music to electronics. Starting from post-punk Melbourne in the 1980s, he took fascinating paths that led him from Africa to Turkey, from Berlin to Romagna…"
Hugo Race returns after highly successful collaborative albums with Michelangelo Russo (100 Years), The Church frontman Steve Kilbey (Speed of the Stars) and Gianni Maraccolo (The Vigil, winner of the prestigious Premio Ciampi) with I Made It All Up For You, an epic album with his Italian band Fatalists - existential songwriting framed by the band's signature fusion of roots music, electronica, Italian soundtracks and desert rock.
"I wanted to create something melodic and beautiful in defiance of our current reality. The songs started as bare acoustic sketches written in a remote mountain cabin in Italy where I had two weeks off during a solo tour. The weather turned into a raging blizzard, the days a struggle to keep the wood fire lit and the smoke out of the house. I wrote about twelve songs, threw them all away, started again with an unplugged electric guitar in front of that
damp fire, searching for the album's theme. When the smoke cleared, I was at the crossroads of a long term relationship unraveling under a blazing antipodean sun.
Fatalists recorded the basic tracks at the floating studio on the Puccini lake an hour out of Florence - Giovanni Ferrario (Scisma, PJ Harvey) on guitars and synth, Francesco Giampaoli (Brutture Moderne) on bass and Diego Sapignoli (Sacri Cuori) on percussion.
Violinist Massimiliano Gallo met me in Sicily for a short tour to learn the new songs, adding layers of his Calabrian magic to the mix. Jennifer Charles (singer of New York band Elysian Fields) and I had been talking for a long time about making new music and this was the occasion when we made it happen. Jennifer's distinctive voice graces this
album on the songs I Collide and Broken Love, the lyrics of which were written by author and designer Alannah Hill. My longtime road brother Michelangelo Russo also dusts the tracks with his otherworldly electric harmonica on Against The World, Born To Fly and Open Field. A lot of joy and pain and reflection went into the making of this album and I hope that comes across; this is about the darkness yes, but also the light. Everything changes and every ending is a new beginning but it's how we experience transformation that really matters. I hope you love this album. I made it all up for you."
Hugo Race, Naples, 2025

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.