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Harm’s Way is Duck Ltd.’s most intuitive and organic album yet, the result of keen observation, self-possessed songwriting, and a collaborative spirit. Building on the successes of their previous releases, the deeply relatable album displays a band operating at a nuanced, lyrical and musical best.

Ducks Ltd. make inviting and frenetic guitar pop for when life feels overwhelming. While the band’s songs are ostensibly breezy, a palpable anxiety boils underneath that communicates something deeper about everyday existence. On their latest album Harm’s Way, the Toronto duo of Tom McGreevy and Evan Lewis hones in on interpersonal and societal collapses, urban decay, and the near-impossibility of keeping a level head when everything around you seems to be falling apart.

“They’re songs about struggling,” says singer and lyricist McGreevy (who also plays bass and rhythm guitar). “About watching people I care for suffer, and trying to figure out how to be there for them. And about the strain of living in the world when it feels like it's ready to collapse.” 

Even with its often dark subject matter, Harm’s Way is Ducks Ltd.’s most vividly rendered and collaborative collection yet. It’s an undeniable evolution for the band, not just in how these songs soar, but in their entire writing and recording processes. Composed on tour while supporting acts like Nation of Language, Illuminati Hotties, and Archers of Loaf, the album displays the band’s finely tuned songcraft and well-earned, road-tested confidence. “When we got signed, we had played maybe five or six shows ever. After last year, it’s in the hundreds. That experience can change your perception of your own music and songwriting,” says McGreevy. “In the past when we got stuck on a song we had a tendency to look at our favourite records to see how they tackled it. But now, instead of asking ‘what would Orange Juice do?’, we’d ask, ‘what would we do?’.” Lewis adds, “We have this really great thing where every decision with the band is filtered through both of us. Here especially, we really figured out how to make something that truly sounds like us.”

The band, fortified by this strong sense of sonic identity and a self-assurance in their new material—and in contrast to their critically acclaimed 2021 debut Modern Fiction and 2019 EP Get Bleak, both self-recorded and self-produced in a Toronto basement—wanted to bring Harm’s Way to life in a new city, with an outside producer, and with some of their favourite musicians. “We realised that so many of our favourite bands who are making guitar music right now are from Chicago,” says McGreevy. Working with producer Dave Vettraino (Dehd, Deeper, Lala Lala), they enlisted a marquee cast of Windy City collaborators to round out the tracks on Harm’s Way, including: Finom’s Macie Stewart (violin, string arrangements); Ratboys’ Marcus Nuccio (drums on most tracks); Dehd’s Jason Balla (who helped arrange the backing vocals, to which he also contributed); and backing vocals from Julia Steiner (Ratboys), Nathan O’Dell (Dummy), Margaret McCarthy (Moontype), Rui De Magalhaes (Lawn), and Lindsey-Paige McCloy (Patio). The band’s touring drummer, Jonathan Pappo, and bassist Julia Wittman also appear on the LP.

Ducks Ltd. are a band that already thrives on skirting the edges of buoyant jangle pop and driving power pop, and the duo credits these collaborators with helping to push their sound even further. “Historically our process has been really tightly controlled and insular. On this record, we worked with people who we trusted with a pretty wide range of musical backgrounds and they had approaches and ideas that helped open up the record's sonic palette,” explains McGreevy. “Jason thinks about backing vocals in a totally different way than I do and is super intuitive with melodic ideas. Julia and Margaret have a really deeo understanding of harmony. Macie and Dave were comfortable with the idea of improvising string parts which took some of those layers in some surprising directions. Dave also has an amazing ability to create atmosphere on a recording, and encouraged us to use a bunch of different techniques, tones, and processes to achieve that.”

Harm’s Way’s lush, melodic swagger is clear from the first notes of opener “Hollowed Out.” A song about living with decline (inspired by a Toronto sinkhole), its bright, indelible catchiness serves in contrast to its lyrical unease. Anchored by Lewis’ shimmering electric guitar, “The Main Thing” laments growing apart from a person whose views you once shared while managing to toss in references to both the unglamorous lives of middle relief baseball pitchers and the occult. Other songs split the difference between country and krautrock, like the rollicking “Train Full of Gasoline,” which uses the 2013 Lac-Mégantic rail disaster in Quebec as a metaphor for self-destructive patterns. Meanwhile, “Deleted Scenes” mourns the absence of someone no longer in your life (even if for very good reasons) and recalls The Cure at their most direct, and closer “Heavy Bag” employs enveloping, mournful strings to evoke a sense of how misery frequently loves company.

After being out of print for years, we present the deluxe 10 year anniversary edition of Harm's Way - Isolation. Expanded over two LPs, packaged in a heavy weight tip-on gatefold LP jacket with UV spot varnish, printed inner sleeves and a gatefold insert. Disc one features a re-master of Isolation by Colin Jordan white Disc two features select tracks remixed & reimagined by Justin Broadrick (Godflesh, Jesu, JK Flesh), Andrew Nolan (Intensive Care, The Endless Blockade), Dylan Walker (Full of Hell, Sore Dream) and Petbrick (Igor Cavalera and Wayne Adams). Recorded in 2011 at Bricktop Studios by Andy Nelson and originally released the summer of that same year, Isolation acted as both a turning point in the sound of Harm’s Way and the foundation of their catalog to come. Elements of Industrial and Electronics expanded the vision of the group as they dove deeper into a metallic sound unheard on their prior releases. This gained the attention of many press outlets including Decibel Magazine, Revolver and Kerrang, as well as tour opportunities with acts such as Nails, Rise and Fall, The Acacia Strain, Terror, Foundation, and many more. After supporting the release of Isolation for two years, Harm’s Way signed to Deathwish Inc to release “Blinded” (2013) and “Rust” (2015) before moving forward to Metal Blade Records for the release of their most recent full length “Posthuman” (2018).

»Baby Ghost« is the debut album by double bassist and vocalist Jordan Sand. Released through Hallow Ground, it blurs the lines between different genres and modes of expressions, improvisation and composition and showcases the unique playing style the composer has developed. Sand blends her voice with the bowed harmonics and subharmonics of her double bass. At once conceptually rigorous and musically open-ended, Sand’s wordless meditations on death and what comes after are both visceral and explorative.

Sand is a boundary-crossing instrumentalist, performer, and session musician who has worked in folk, free jazz, pop, classical and new as well as experimental music. In 2020, she took a hiatus. When she picked up the bass again, she began stripping down the relationship to her instrument to its core elements, searching for a way to melt the sounds of bow and voice together. This resulted in the appearance of ghost notes, tones emerging from the addition or subtraction of two frequencies, and harmonics that she adds with her falsetto.

On »Baby Ghost,« Sand utilises this acoustic sound and the spontaneous precision of her improvisational practice for pieces that deal with the subject of dying. They move from more polyphonic improvisations toward abstraction, touching upon harsh noise and minimalistic bow-chants before returning briefly to a melodic soliloquy, and finally landing on an extended subharmonic drone. This progression reflects the journey of the spirit after death; the experience of visions, memories, ecstasies and terrors before the dissolution of the self.

Sand performs this process physically, blending her voice with her instrument to explore how the senses might dissolve and merge when they enter a state between life and beyond-or-between-life. Born out of the moment and dedicated to a lost friend, »Baby Ghost« is quite literally an otherworldly achievement.

Way Dynamic, das Soloprojekt von Dylan Young aus Melbourne, veröffentlicht international ,Massive Shoe" - sein drittes Album, das verspielt und zurückhaltend, strahlend und facettenreich ist. ,Massive Shoe" ist minimalistischer Folk-Pop, Art-Rock und Barock-Pop, produziert und größtenteils eingespielt von Young, der nebenbei bei Melbournes beliebten Bands Cool Sounds und Good Morning spielt und als Schlagzeuger bei Snowy Band und Kankawa Nagarra mitgewirkt hat. Es ist verlockend, diese Songs nur mit denen vergangener Zeiten zu vergleichen - Youngs Falsett, sein Gespür für Harmonien und die komplexen Arrangements wirken alle zeitlos. Aber es gibt eine Sensibilität, eine Wortwahl, die sich zutiefst zeitgemäß anfühlt: Es ist bezeichnend, dass Katie Crutchfield von Waxahatchee ,Miffed It" als ihren ,Lieblingssong seit SEHR langer Zeit" bezeichnete, und Katie, MJ Lenderman, This is Lorelei und Black Country New Road haben alle Way Dynamic auf Tour mitgenommen, während Sir Elton John sagte, er könne einfach nicht aufhören, ,Ibiza" zu hören. Youngs Songs scheuen weder Sentimentalität noch Albernheit: In jedem beliebigen Song könnte er einen Flug ins All vorschlagen oder ernsthaft eine Missverständigung beklagen. "Can we walk and talk as well?", fragt er in ,I Was the Dancer", und wir nehmen die Einladung sofort an.

R.M.F.C. sound like? Let’s stay with the overused descriptors – I think R.M.F.C. is rock music band, more specifically a post-punk band. Indulge me. If you could say anything about post punk it means post-Wire, who were past punk before punk had an opportunity to codify and become everything brilliant and stupid that we’ve spent 40 years unpacking. Wire’s opening Pink Flag jab – Chairs Missing straight – and 154 hook knockout has haunted the mixing desks of ambitious post-punk bands since, and every major city in the western world has at least one Pink Flag band, one Chairs Missing band, one 154 band. Few bands manage to sound like all 3 records, but R.M.F.C. are a Rock Music Fan Club...

Anyone paying attention to underground Australian guitar overdose would relate: the R.M.F.C. Club Hits LP has been the culmination of five years of work, patience and discipline. If you’ve heard these songs live at any of their shows over the past couple of years you’ll understand – the wait is over and the result is exhilarating.

‘Bands like Devo, The Fall, and The Birthday Party have set the way for this type of post-punk rock (all in their own way). Surely, also, the rock scenes of the past fifteen years in Australia have also been influential. Thinking of bands like Royal Headache, Dick Diver, and Eddy Current Suppression Ring, there’s even been a fairly recent tradition of expanding styles of rock and roll (let alone the bigger, famous rock-centered acts). The Sydney based R.M.F.C., and the scene (or friend circle) from which it’s emerging, is carrying a torch of rock music which has the potential of a wider appeal.’ - POST-TRASH

R.M.F.C. sound like? Let’s stay with the overused descriptors – I think R.M.F.C. is rock music band, more specifically a post-punk band. Indulge me. If you could say anything about post punk it means post-Wire, who were past punk before punk had an opportunity to codify and become everything brilliant and stupid that we’ve spent 40 years unpacking. Wire’s opening Pink Flag jab – Chairs Missing straight – and 154 hook knockout has haunted the mixing desks of ambitious post-punk bands since, and every major city in the western world has at least one Pink Flag band, one Chairs Missing band, one 154 band. Few bands manage to sound like all 3 records, but R.M.F.C. are a Rock Music Fan Club...

Anyone paying attention to underground Australian guitar overdose would relate: the R.M.F.C. Club Hits LP has been the culmination of five years of work, patience and discipline. If you’ve heard these songs live at any of their shows over the past couple of years you’ll understand – the wait is over and the result is exhilarating.

‘Bands like Devo, The Fall, and The Birthday Party have set the way for this type of post-punk rock (all in their own way). Surely, also, the rock scenes of the past fifteen years in Australia have also been influential. Thinking of bands like Royal Headache, Dick Diver, and Eddy Current Suppression Ring, there’s even been a fairly recent tradition of expanding styles of rock and roll (let alone the bigger, famous rock-centered acts). The Sydney based R.M.F.C., and the scene (or friend circle) from which it’s emerging, is carrying a torch of rock music which has the potential of a wider appeal.’ - POST-TRASH

On Last Night At Marienbad's latest, the imprint brings together three of the brightest souls found within the realms of Jazz, namely Mauricesax, 9ick and Milan93, with their collective talents synergising effortlessly on 'A Garden Between Us', alongside a stellar cast of remixers who add even further delight between the grooves….

As a genre, Jazz has perhaps lent itself the most to other musical universes, in that its curious heart, endlessly experimental nature, and parameter-defying spirit have wrapped itself deep within the core of countless albums, scenes, and music makers. It's a genre that welcomes reinvention, consistently defying its contents and always reaching out to find new methods of expressionism. Electronic music, in its many forms, has truly embraced Jazz perhaps like no other movement of music has, with a truly astonishing array of records surfacing in the past 40 years which have blended Jazz's unique motifs with grooves, chords, and emotive excellence. From 90s Jazz house and UR Techno, through to Future Jazz, downtempo, and Hip Hop, and around many other suns, there remains such an intrinsic and symbiotic relationship between the two musical realms that caters to those who wish to live music both within and out with themselves.

As practitioners of blending electronica and Jazz, few do it like the trio of Mauricesax, 9ick, and Milan93. All three are known for their distinctive soundscapes, yet share commonalities in terms of musical language, feel, and sense of progression. Bringing them together allows for overlaps in their sounds to emerge, and just like Jazz itself, this is where the intrinsicness of sound begins to blossom. 9ick brings his softly evolving vibe to the table, one which was so prevalent and celebrated on his 2025 album 'SMIL'; Milan93 draws from his focal point of exploring fill-laden grooves and a myriad of emotive sensibilities; and Mauricesax draws up his extensive musicality that exists at the corner of jazz, electronic, and experimental music, along with running musical workshops all over the globe.

'A Garden Between Us' represents the trio's core tenets, with this immediately obvious from the record's opener, 'Rhodora'. A gentle solo piano quickly evolves into a series of powerful rhythmic pulses, with brass lines bringing vitality and feel to proceedings. The track shifts gears with purpose, transitioning between musical vignettes of the highest order, with the synth work doing much to bind the transitions together. 'Tulip' emerges slightly differently, with glossy Rhodes tones and an unravelling rhythmic undercurrent setting an enthralling stage. The track flourishes amongst sweeping textures, coming up for air amongst a deeply hypnotic rhythmic section that holds on and never lets up. 'Honeysuckle' lands next, which sees the trio emerge with a boundless, dynamic soundscape. The drums shift within the undertones, as keys, chords, horns and hip-hop vocal samples dance around the pulse, capturing the imagination with their narrative-like placement. Wrapping up the A side comes 'Camellia'. A dazzling array of harmonic sounds converges around the transfixing rhythm section, which emerges from deep below to lavishly roll out over the midsection, with the delicateness of the instrumentation a real highlight here.

The B side features two exquisite remixes, with Pacific Coliseum's version of 'Tulip' landing first. Beginning with a signature four to the floor to get things going, his careful handling of the source material is seen in the tactful introduction of the blissful elements that made the original cut so impactful, with great focus placed on emotive fidelity. The result is a summer-bound house number that reimagines the original in all the right ways, flipping it into a euphoria-driven jazz-laden pacer that reaches for the heavens as much as it drives right into the heart. Teuteu then showcases their take on 'Honeysuckle', and at 9 minutes long, represents the longest cut on the record - and the experience is all the richer for it. Leaning heavily into dance music flavours, Teuteu shifts perspective totally into the realm of the club, with the walls beating hard to the kicks. The sax lines that drift ethereally up top keep eyes closed and souls full, as the dance shifts into the next phase.

An experience that drifts from the daydreaming, to soul-warming through to the club shaking - what else is left to experience, except for 'A Garden Between Us' and how it will brighten up life itself….

4/5 REVIEW IN MOJO: “HEARTBEAT TONES DISSOLVE INTO BEAUTEOUS SHIMMER AND STELLAR SYNTH MEDITATIONS GIVE WAY TO CAREFULLY ORCHESTRATED ELECTRONICA.”

4/5 REVIEW IN UNCUT: “IT'S MASTERFUL, THOUGH IT WILL LEAVE YOU FEELING LIKE A SPECK OF GRAVEL IN A SELF-DESTRUCTING WORLD.”

NME - 8/10 review (w/c 14 October) "He’s mastered this stylistic skittishness and you’ll do well to find much dispute about his talent."

NARC - 5/5 review (October issue) "An immersive soundtrack to your own personal psychodrama."

WIRE - ONE PAGE REVIEW (October issue) "The sentiments it stirs to life are shadowed and ambiguous, simultaneously personal and impersonal. It is also fantastically immersive, dragging the listener into its turbulent undertows, then washing them back on dry land, intact but changed.’’

Virgins was recorded during three periods in 2012, mostly in Reykjavik, Montreal and Seattle, using ensembles in live performance.

While this album remains committed to a painterly form of musical abstraction, it is also a record of restrained composition recorded live primarily in intimate studio rooms. This record employs woodwinds, piano and synthesizers towards an effort at doing what digital music does not do naturally—making music that is out of time, out of tune and out of phase.

Some pieces go off the rails before forming into anything, others eschew crescendo
compositional structures or bombastic density while going sideways instead. It points to the ongoing development of Hecker's work. It suggests illusory memories of drug- hazed jams or communal music performance that may have never been performed or been heard.

It is an offering of music into the void, a gift of digital filler between distractions. Yet hopefully it also stands as a document of the enduring faith in the narcotic, enigmatic function of music as long-form expression.

Mixed by Valgeir Sigurðsson and Tim Hecker. Additional assistance by Randall Dunn and Ben Frost. Mastered by Mandy Parnell at Black Saloon Studios in London, UK.

2026 Repress

'Quiet Pieces' initiates Abul Mogard’s personal imprint Soft Echoes with a definitive self-portrait of calm, contemplative, and discreet inner landscapes made audible. It is the first solo album on vinyl in four years. RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker.

While sifting through archived material left idle from earlier projects, a chance encounter with a late uncle’s trove of beloved 78rpm classical and opera records prompted the reworking and completion of what would eventually become the album. Spinning dusty records at 33 and 45rpm, Abul Mogard recombined their enduring spectres with unfinished sketches from his archive. The resulting soundscape blurs distinctions between his memories and those of another, exquisitely short-circuiting the senses with its waking, dream-like lucidity.

This was a process I hadn’t explored in my earlier works. I began sampling brief moments from these records, altering them with studio effects and playing them at slower speeds. In many cases, I wasn’t entirely sure how the original music sounded. These fragments, once further processed, became a source of inspiration for my new compositions. Over time, I realised that the old pieces from the archive and the new material derived from the samples naturally complemented each other.”

The resulting pieces hover over a threshold, a liminal space that harmonises the old and older material. Voluminous waves of quiet and loud undulate between consonance and dissonance, conjuring imagery of a decaying grandeur that humanity’s decadence has surrendered to the elements. Abul Mogard’s seemingly abandoned yet vast landscapes are nevertheless intimate with timbral frissons of red-lined distortion. Elusive, yet as tangible as sea spray or smog, they affect the olfactory senses with a rarified, synesthetic quality that modestly engages one’s emotional register – a hypnotic, distinguishing feature long hailed as one of the hallmarks of his work. A fidelity to memory and dream recall is sensitively probed in the journey from the stately symphonic stasis of 'Following a dream' to the almost industrial, untethered brutality evoked by a looming silhouette that’s never fully visible in 'Constantly slipping away', culminating in the foreboding coda of 'Like a bird'. Those pieces appear to shield the album’s sentimental core, where the tempestuous play of light and shadow of 'In a studded procession' escalates to breathtaking, panoramic climax, while 'Through whispers' evokes an out-of-body-like experience encountered with visceral poignancy.

Looking back, Mogard notes an unexpected influence: “I realise being inspired by Phill Niblock, whose work I had barely known at the time but explored after his passing in 2024. His album 'Boston Tenor Index' changed the way I approached dissonance. It encouraged me to push my sound further, to the edge of a space where I began to feel uncomfortable.”

The album artwork, created by longtime collaborator Marja de Sanctis, features a photograph taken at the Temple of Jupiter Anxur, an archaeological site overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Captured with an iPhone, the image traces the residual presence of construction techniques and architectural forms of the Romans, where material history is transcribed through contemporary tools. The convergence of ancient and modern technology aims to reverberate the site’s lasting spiritual presence – an echo persisting in what is now perceived as a quiet, emptied space. The spiral gestures towards infinity and light. Past and present dissolve into one another, reflecting 'Quiet Pieces' meditation on sound, memory, and time.

RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker

Manchester-based producer Lily Mumby, the creative force behind Lapalace, has chosen Lavender as her botanical muse for this sixth instalment. Like the aromatic herb that grows from tiny seeds to fragrant purple stalks, her compositions unfold with a similar patience and elegance. Her synthesisers breathe with a natural rhythm, creating textures that emerge and recede like morning dew on lavender buds waiting to bloom.

The standout track ‘new age night’ – a stunning love child of William Basinski's decaying tape loops and Aphex Twin's intricate programming—carries subtle lavender-inspired tones, balancing the plant's calming essence with hypnotic rhythms. Just as lavender requires thoughtful tending before rewarding the gardener with its distinctive aroma, Lapalace's landscapes reveal deeper complexities with each listen.

Much like gardening itself, Mumby demonstrates an innate understanding of when to intervene and when to allow natural development. This approach echoes throughout her career, from her debut EP "Ephemera" which caught the attention of Insult to Injury Records' Timothy Clerkin, through to her contributions to Chez De Milo's "So It Goes" Remix EP and Manchester label Skiptrace's various artists compilation.

Her work across BBC Introducing and fossil.radio reflects this same philosophy – creating environments where sound, space, and organic movement find their natural harmony. But this composition really feels that Mumby has come of age. "Music To Watch Seeds Grow By Vol. 6" represents the continued cultivation of Lapalace's distinctive sound and demonstrates the maturity of an artist way beyond her years. This music stands as a lighthouse through a thick fog of nostalgia, much like lavender standing tall amidst an English cottage garden.

Early DJ support including - Auntie Flo, Ruf Dug, Courtesy, Vladimir Ivkovic.

Devotional music most often gets distilled into earthy chants and ancient folklore, it doesn't always ascend to the sky like Julinko’s ‘Naebula’ an album that from the first organ note clearly trades in terrestrial dreams for ethereal visions. A feverish quality permeates the whole record, as if a ritualistic performance was being captured from start to finish, a collection of hallucinatory doom, synthetic neo-folk hymns and ghostly art-rock.

Julinko, stage name for Giulia Parin Zecchin, has long been one of the best kept secrets of the experimental community in North-East Italy, with three records that helped define her unique blend of heavy psychedelia, slowcore and dark ambient. On ‘Naebula’ what really stands out is how powerful and soaring her voice is, a weapon of undeniable force that can transform into a vessel of raw fervour or glide effortlessly as a delicate lament. Her unconventional approach shines through on tracks like ‘Jeanne De Rien’, where a marching pulse acts as a pillar for an extended mantra, almost verging into powwow territory. ‘Peace Of The Unsaid’ uses its arrhythmical structure to create space, a crepuscular night ode that reaches the heights of Sinead O’Connor’s most intimate force-fulness while retaining a sweet composure. Whether it’s glacial murderous shrieks or gospel-esque vitality, songs like ‘Cloudmachine’ or ‘Kiss The Lion’s Tongue’ seem to draw as much from a tradition of European minimalism, the use of drones and repetition, to the tradition of folksongs as hymns, where modal harmonies make way for an apparent stasis. Another key element in Julinko’s songwriting is the seamless blend of her minimalistic approach with these dense textures borrowed from a distant outsider metal heritage, Lynchean noir on steroids or wordless exorcisms with deep undercurrents.

BRIXIA is a music collaboration project that began in Prague, founded by Czech multi-instrumentalist Max Lipovsky and Chilean synth aficionado Daniel Rodriguez. From the depths of a cold basement in Prague's Žižkov district, the duo crafted hypnotic rhythms and a fusion of cosmic, tropical, and oriental sounds during their never-ending live jam sessions—until they were finally ready to hit a record button.

Seeking a change of scenery, they packed up their instruments and drove 1,500 kilometers to Rome, where they recorded their music in the vibrant heart of Pigneto. There, they met Jonida Prifti, an Italian poet of Albanian heritage, and invited her to layer her poetry onto their tracks.

The result is both unexpected and deeply captivating. The title track is a dub-infused, ever-evolving piece of shamanic minimalism, laced with Balearic guitars and swirling synths that emerge only to fade back into the depths. Jonida's whisper-like vocals drift above it all—so ethereal they almost feel imagined.

In contrast, Vortice jolts you awake. This one will surely find its way into the bags of more adventurous DJs out there, with its driving post-punk bassline and near-harmonica melodies, it feels like a journey through uncharted territory. Jonida's voice guides you like a navigator, and suddenly, you've arrived.

With Lost Lost Lost, Pratt & Moody gather the defining moments of their journey and package it with fresh soul gold into one cohesive, slow- burning statement. What began as a series of cult 7” vinyl releases – often mistaken online for forgotten soul classics from another era – now finds its natural home in album form. Written and recorded with Timmion’s trusted house band Cold Diamond & Mink, the record captures the duo’s unmistakable chemistry: emotionally rich songwriting wrapped in warm, analog textures that blur past and present.
From the velvet sway of “Addictive Touch” to the cinematic tension of “You Bring Me Joy” and the beat ballad ache of “Hard Way To Live,” the album moves effortlessly between bedroom-soul intimacy and widescreen drama. “Hang Tight” opens with a blissful piano figure that nods to gospel-tinged 1970s soul before unfolding into a full-bodied groove, while “Hooked On Your Love” glows with golden-age group soul harmony sweetness. Across both sides, Pratt’s finely tuned vocals and Moody’s expressive guitar work anchor songs that feel timeless rather than nostalgic.

At its core, Lost Lost Lost is an album steeped in atmosphere – lush downtempo moments sit alongside sweet harmony-driven soul, cinematic builds dissolve into dark restrained grooves. Analog string synthesizers, vibraphone accents, tremolo guitar, and deep-pocket rhythms create emotional tension without excess. Pratt & Moody’s strength lies in their melodic instinct: songs that feel big without being pompous or losing their human quality. The result is a record that feels cohesive, immersive, and that real thing – reaffirming the duo as key architects of the contemporary lowrider soul revival.

With Lost Lost Lost, Pratt & Moody gather the defining moments of their journey and package it with fresh soul gold into one cohesive, slow- burning statement. What began as a series of cult 7” vinyl releases – often mistaken online for forgotten soul classics from another era – now finds its natural home in album form. Written and recorded with Timmion’s trusted house band Cold Diamond & Mink, the record captures the duo’s unmistakable chemistry: emotionally rich songwriting wrapped in warm, analog textures that blur past and present.
From the velvet sway of “Addictive Touch” to the cinematic tension of “You Bring Me Joy” and the beat ballad ache of “Hard Way To Live,” the album moves effortlessly between bedroom-soul intimacy and widescreen drama. “Hang Tight” opens with a blissful piano figure that nods to gospel-tinged 1970s soul before unfolding into a full-bodied groove, while “Hooked On Your Love” glows with golden-age group soul harmony sweetness. Across both sides, Pratt’s finely tuned vocals and Moody’s expressive guitar work anchor songs that feel timeless rather than nostalgic.

At its core, Lost Lost Lost is an album steeped in atmosphere – lush downtempo moments sit alongside sweet harmony-driven soul, cinematic builds dissolve into dark restrained grooves. Analog string synthesizers, vibraphone accents, tremolo guitar, and deep-pocket rhythms create emotional tension without excess. Pratt & Moody’s strength lies in their melodic instinct: songs that feel big without being pompous or losing their human quality. The result is a record that feels cohesive, immersive, and that real thing – reaffirming the duo as key architects of the contemporary lowrider soul revival.

On her first Harmony Index album, multi-instrumentalist and producer Nico Leibman spotlights the feelings that are most difficult to express, bringing out the friction between her dreamy hooks and harsher sonics. Written almost like a DJ set, the album shifts intentionally between piano-led trip-hop, lounge, dream pop, 2-step and breakbeat house, not languishing in nostalgia but defining a language that's rooted in desire, surrender and forward motion.

Until now, Leibman has been best known as a touring musician, working alongside artists like Jessica Pratt and Ana Roxanne, while slowly putting together new solo material in-between frequent tours. The album was written in bursts over the course of five long years and provided Leibman with a much-needed outlet - a chance for her to lock into her personal musical preoccupations, like Janet Jackson's 'The Velvet Rope', Everything but the Girl's 'Walking Wounded' and Prefab Sprout's 'Jordan: The Comeback'.

It's this era of pop - when nascent technology collided at force with skillful, soulful songwriting - that provides the album's backbone, fleshed out by Leibman's potent meditations on a spectrum of experiences in Los Angeles. And as the record was evolving, Leibman let long night drives crack her creative world open. Embracing the city's notoriously cinematic romantic side, she used the car as a "little chamber of limerence," in her own words, enabling her fantasies and acting as a test system for each song. "If it wasn't hitting in the car," she says. "It wasn't going to be on the record, period."

This sense of motion is evident almost immediately on 'Recognize', when Leibman's breathy words are carried into the night by choppy, uptempo breaks and resonant pads. So even when she simply coos over chugging guitars and bass on the first half of 'Enough', the drop into a low-slung breakbeat is implied. "Another digression, a break in this tension," she sings. "Was I foolish to believe that this was never your intention?" Leibman's tales of disillusionment are imbued with power, buoyed by her pitch-perfect production, with additional help from co-producer Cesar Maria.

On 'Don't Pretend', she sings softly and soulfully over decelerated Timbaland-inspired beats and a dubwise bassline, aided by additional production from Purelink. And 'If' marks the point where she lets go, infusing her euphoria with melancholy as her voice soars alongside the album's most infectious piano riff. Fittingly, the album concludes with 'Trust', a song about surrendering to the possibilities of love that works as a potent metaphor for the album's evolution. Over the course of five years, Leibman learned to let people in, finally trusting the process. "It's also a fantasy of what it would feel like to finally be in love again," she laughs, accepting that it's still just a fantasy. But it's this hope in unfulfilled longing that gives the album its unique character, defining a bold, unguarded voice in LA's experimental pop landscape.

Black Truffle is thrilled to announce a second volume of unheard concert performances from legendary Pakistani kyhal singer Salamat Ali Khan, recorded at Berlin’s Neue Nationalgalerie as part of the MetaMusik festival in 1974. Like the first volume, the immaculate recording by Michael Hönig (of krautrock legends Agitation Free) captures Khan performing a single extended raag in the company of Shaukat Hussein Khan on tabla and Hussein Bux Khan on harmonium. In addition to his stunningly inventive and moving vocal performance, Khan is heard accompanying himself on a specially tuned alpine zither (in place of the traditional swarmandal, an Indian style of zither). The lack of an underlying tanpura drone gives the music its characteristic floating quality, with the three instruments and voice masterfully dancing around one another as they sketch the outlines of this grand, 40-minute Raag Chandrakauns.

If anything, this epic performance of the late-night Raag Chandrakauns is even more seductively spacious and psychedelic than the music heard on the first volume. Obeying the traditional shape of Hindustani classical vocal music performance, a gradual rise in both pitch and rhythmic activity, the music hovers for twenty minutes in a reflective calm, the pulse only gently stated by the tabla while harmonium ornamentation and zither strums float by. In this meditative space, Khan gradually orients us to the contours of the raag, beginning with long notes at the bottom of his register. His improvisation at once builds with a stunningly firm sense of internal logic and seems liberated to explore every melodic and ornamental byway that comes up along the way. By the time we turn to the record’s second side, the music has grown into something far more frenetic, with virtuoso tabla passages at times occupying centre stage between Khan’s increasingly rhythmic melodic variations. Concluding with a sequence of unison tabla and voice passages of breathtaking complexity, the performance is met with rapturous applause. Arriving in a blue-toned variant of the first volume’s sleeve, with acclaimed musicologist Peter Pannke’s liner notes in the original German, Metamusik Festival Berlin ’74 Volume II is not to be missed. Essential listening not just for Hidustanti classic aficionados, but for anyone who needs reminding of the magic of collective music making in the moment.

The title of Ghost Bridge, the East-Coast-spanning chamber ensemble Hour's fifth record, is less metaphorical than one might expect. Bandleader Michael Cormier- O'Leary repurposed it from an unrealized movie concept about a bridge that inexplicably starts disappearing. On the nearly-ten-minute title track of this richly imaginative suite of songs_written for a 13-piece ensemble that includes woodwinds, strings, and vibraphone as well as a rock rhythm section_Hour conjures up this central image with spectral string harmonics and free-time percussion gestures. While writing the keyboard pieces that became the takeoff point for the album, Cormier-O'Leary also found himself reflecting on the loss of loved ones or even his own mortality. The six kaleidoscopic instrumental pieces on Ghost Bridge, though, feel more cosmically inquisitive than straightforwardly elegiac, sketching a progression from existential doubt toward understanding and acceptance. Ghost Bridge forms a contrast with Hour's art-rock-informed, more improvisatory early releases, representing a step further into intricate chamber orchestration. Known for his work with Friendship, Wendy Eisenberg, and 2nd Grade, Phillybased multi-instrumentalist and Dear Life Records founder Cormier-O'Leary has made Hour a home for increasingly cinematic instrumental compositions since the mid-2010s. With dazzling production by Lucas Knapp, Ghost Bridge delivers plenty of the live ensemble's trademarks, especially cyclically developing guitar and keyboard melodies. However, even more than on Hour's last studio album, unconventional harmonies and sophisticated counterpoint take center stage here. These emotionally multifaceted compositions feel as rooted in contemporary classical and film soundtrack music as in indie rock. One of the most striking elements of Ghost Bridge is the more significant developmental role the orchestral instruments assume in each piece. Instead of underscoring Cormier-O'Leary's central hooks, there is a new mesmerizing level of detail to the group's conversational interactions and kinetic energy. "Centralia" is a stately and idiosyncratic fugue built from repeated and overlapping phrases, while Ghost Bridge's compositions are full of unexpected pivots in harmony that allow recurring melodic motifs to sound continually reshaded. On "Pearls," the chords modulate drastically around Cormier-O'Leary's inviting central melody in a way that emulates cuts in a film telling several parallel stories. There is an unsettled quality to the chords on Ghost Bridge, with Cormier- O'Leary's progressions avoiding firm grounding in either clearly sunny or melancholy tonalities. This mood is made more concrete by the record's sole vocal track, the jazz-inflected "Sky is Blue," featuring an uncannily gorgeous performance by Heeyoon Won. The song seems to be a communication from a person who has departed, offering consolation or perspective to someone left behind. Though its sonic palette is often tranquil, Ghost Bridge explores heartbreak, grief, anger, and helplessness in a distinct and pretense-free way. The project represents a bold step forward for Cormier-O'Leary as a composer and arranger, and on Ghost Bridge Hour reaches its most fully realized form to date, connecting soaring themes with an inventiveness that perfectly suits the searching nature of the subject matter.

A quick scan of the world’s favourite crowdsourced discography reveals that Sonic Youth co-founder Lee Ranaldo was not a total stranger to crackling electric experimentation in the years following his songwriting turns of the 20-teens. Yet »The System«, ingeniously culled and sequenced from Ranaldo’s soundtrack work for Dutch filmmaker Joris Postema’s ›eco-doc‹ of the same name, nonetheless feels like a reawakening. Quietly released in a vastly different (and much more ›filmic‹) form by Doxy Music/Riva Media Records in 2025, this LP reimagines and reconfigures the initial release, including unreleased material written and recorded for the film, to lend it new stature as both a return to drone-improv form and a reunion with introspective Downtown angst.

Given the state of the world, it’s not surprising that the film Ranaldo scores – a documentary on three climate activists bruising their fists on the black iron prison of techno-fascist deathkultur – is a study in despair and futility. But rather than wallowing in navel-gazing doom and gloom, the film documents the unstoppable spirit that has animated human resistance since the time of the Pharaohs.

As it turns out, the gorgeous scope of Lee Ranaldo’s guitar palette is a perfect manifestation of the hope and despair that animates the film. But like other high-water marks in the guitar-centric soundtrack canon – the high plains raga of Bruce Langhorne’s »Hired Hand«, Neil Young’s sparse and ghostly solo transmissions on »Dead Man«, or the monolithic mantras of Popol Vuh’s »Nosferatu« – its devotion to spectral gestures and meditative song forms launches it firmly outside of the OST orbit into a universe fully its own.

It might seem like a long journey from the Lower Manhattan rhythmic grime of the album’s opener »Tajikistan (Nice to Meet You)« (reminiscent of guitar opuses like Robert Quine and Jody Harris’s »Escape«) to the ringing cowboy chords of the final track, but the narrative logic of the LP pulls the listener along as solidly as a pack horse. As the LP unwinds, and collaborators like Jim Jarmusch, cellist Leila Boudreil, Yeah Yeah Yeahs snare shaman Brian Chase, and guitarist Yonatan Gat take their places, new vistas unfurl: the ritualistic thrum of »Berlin Blockade«, the haunted overtone palaces of »Bergelmir«, and the cavernous acoustic strumming of »Instruments of Violence«. It all winds up with the high lonesome standard »Cool Water«, each unhurried note trailing off into long-tail reverb, layers of shifting vocal harmonies pulling everything skyward – a hopeful note in an album where existential dread never lurks too deeply below the surface.

In the end, »The System« functions both as a film score and a hallucinatory (mostly) instrumental guitar record, revealing a sensibility not too often spotted in the 21st century – a liminal space where the song, the jam, and the meditation merge into a blurred whole. »The System«’s expansive fabric, emerging from a collective sound circling around Ranaldo’s signature tones, envelops and ampl amplifies the contributions of its community of creators – the perfect antidote to narcissistic despair. Much like the subjects of the film light the way towards intra-generational resistance, the music of »The System« reveals a path through gathering darkness. The world could be yours if you follow.

– Tom Carter

A quick scan of the world’s favourite crowdsourced discography reveals that Sonic Youth co-founder Lee Ranaldo was not a total stranger to crackling electric experimentation in the years following his songwriting turns of the 20-teens. Yet »The System«, ingeniously culled and sequenced from Ranaldo’s soundtrack work for Dutch filmmaker Joris Postema’s ›eco-doc‹ of the same name, nonetheless feels like a reawakening. Quietly released in a vastly different (and much more ›filmic‹) form by Doxy Music/Riva Media Records in 2025, this LP reimagines and reconfigures the initial release, including unreleased material written and recorded for the film, to lend it new stature as both a return to drone-improv form and a reunion with introspective Downtown angst.

Given the state of the world, it’s not surprising that the film Ranaldo scores – a documentary on three climate activists bruising their fists on the black iron prison of techno-fascist deathkultur – is a study in despair and futility. But rather than wallowing in navel-gazing doom and gloom, the film documents the unstoppable spirit that has animated human resistance since the time of the Pharaohs.

As it turns out, the gorgeous scope of Lee Ranaldo’s guitar palette is a perfect manifestation of the hope and despair that animates the film. But like other high-water marks in the guitar-centric soundtrack canon – the high plains raga of Bruce Langhorne’s »Hired Hand«, Neil Young’s sparse and ghostly solo transmissions on »Dead Man«, or the monolithic mantras of Popol Vuh’s »Nosferatu« – its devotion to spectral gestures and meditative song forms launches it firmly outside of the OST orbit into a universe fully its own.

It might seem like a long journey from the Lower Manhattan rhythmic grime of the album’s opener »Tajikistan (Nice to Meet You)« (reminiscent of guitar opuses like Robert Quine and Jody Harris’s »Escape«) to the ringing cowboy chords of the final track, but the narrative logic of the LP pulls the listener along as solidly as a pack horse. As the LP unwinds, and collaborators like Jim Jarmusch, cellist Leila Boudreil, Yeah Yeah Yeahs snare shaman Brian Chase, and guitarist Yonatan Gat take their places, new vistas unfurl: the ritualistic thrum of »Berlin Blockade«, the haunted overtone palaces of »Bergelmir«, and the cavernous acoustic strumming of »Instruments of Violence«. It all winds up with the high lonesome standard »Cool Water«, each unhurried note trailing off into long-tail reverb, layers of shifting vocal harmonies pulling everything skyward – a hopeful note in an album where existential dread never lurks too deeply below the surface.

In the end, »The System« functions both as a film score and a hallucinatory (mostly) instrumental guitar record, revealing a sensibility not too often spotted in the 21st century – a liminal space where the song, the jam, and the meditation merge into a blurred whole. »The System«’s expansive fabric, emerging from a collective sound circling around Ranaldo’s signature tones, envelops and ampl amplifies the contributions of its community of creators – the perfect antidote to narcissistic despair. Much like the subjects of the film light the way towards intra-generational resistance, the music of »The System« reveals a path through gathering darkness. The world could be yours if you follow.

– Tom Carter

Det Gode Selskab continue their quest as they call on Berlin-based Italian artist Busso. An artist who continues to express himself through a multitude of vibes and sounds, fitting perfectly with the free-flowing DGS ethos. ‘Anna In The Jelly’ wanders between four different cuts, teasing animated deep house energy combined with stripped-back minimal flavours. A reflection of Busso’s versatile taste, he encapsulates four sure shots for your summertime record bag. A tale for the sun worshipping dreamers, soundtracking the warmer months.

Diving straight in with ‘Sexual Desire’, Busso delivers perky and playful peak-time action, with a clean-cut, feel-good energy from the word go. A vintage feel emerges through the vocals and crisp drums, working in sweet harmony. Slick hi-hats lead the way in ‘Don’t Be Afraid’ before you are confronted with a killer elasticated groove synonymous with the Italian’s sound. Beautiful chords appear at the midway point, spiralling into paradise.
The B-side kicks off with the title track, constructed in a distinct chunky manner. Squelchy mechanical tones manoeuvre around the mysterious drive of the track. Moody as it moves, it’s one for the darker nights on the road. Last but not least is ‘Red Print’, tightly packaged and incredibly detailed, with quirky obscurities flashing throughout. A steady motion perfectly sets the tone as you start to build the floor.
This record cements an exciting future for the label, as they look to continue elaborating on their catalogue, ever-evolving and expanding their width of sounds with one of the most exciting prospects currently in the German capital.

There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.


Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.


At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along

There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.


Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.


At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along

The sun sat high above the desert outside Joshua Tree on October 17, 2024, baking the rocks and shrubbery outside the Farrington Observatory as a small group of invited guests ventured up a steep path towards the telescope. Kyle Simon, the artist and printmaker who founded the Observatory, was standing outside the print studio sat below the towering cylindrical building, greeting friends alongside his wife Sarah and lifelong friend Brian Weitz, the musician widely known as Geologist of Animal Collective. Simon and Weitz had spent the previous day testing and retesting a system that would transform the light of the oncoming full moon captured by the gigantic telescope into a signal that would modulate the control voltage of Weitz’s modular synthesizer. As the sun dipped below the horizon line, the audience gathered on a small wooden patio surrounded by speakers while Weitz readied himself behind the array of patches and knobs. Simon addressed the group, presenting the history of The Sirens, the sonic exploration of the night sky’s mystical and scientific significance about to unfold.

The music conjured under the Hunter’s Moon that night is now documented on this first official release of The Sirens, which was conceived by Simon and Weitz as a recurring performance piece and sound installation. Over a decade ago, Simon began immersing himself in literature on humanity’s sonic relationship to the celestial realm, including Homer’s Odyssey, Plato’s “Spindle of Necessity, ” Kepler’s Harmonices Mundi, and the field of astroseismology. He fitted homemade telescopes with photodiodes and optical sensors to make the images audible, finding latent patterns in the noisy sonic signals he began receiving from the stars. With Weitz, the process expanded as the signal was routed through an analog amplifier and set to modulate the pitch, filter, and other elements of his synthesizer. Together they developed a system of improvisation, with Simon adjusting the telescope to change the intensity of the light based on its relationship with the moon’s position (imagine a theremin player moving their hands in subtle, meaningful motion), and Weitz responding to that input in real time: bending it, amplifying it, or letting it stand on its own. The duo debuted the piece at the Integretron in Joshua Tree in 2018, providing a crucial proof of concept for the performance at Farrington featured here.

The first thing the listener hears on The Sirens is the opening of Farrington Observatory, the cranking of motor and metal. As the lens of the telescope is exposed to the evening air, a wavering drone emerges from the synthesizer, flickering at the margins, the tuning of the oscillators adjusting to the rapidly cooling desert air. The piece progresses and the drone becomes a luminous, spherical constant, bathing the listener in pure tone as Weitz draws out harmonically ambiguous melodies that spiral upwards. Electronics crackle and convulse, coalescing into dense dissonance before widening out into an open octave. Just as the moon orbits the Earth and the stars shift as the planet rotates, so each sonic element appears in flux, interrelationships slowly forming and falling away. Divided into two parts, The Sirens flows as a continuous conversation between the artists and the starlight completing its thousand-year journey across the galaxy.

The Sirens belongs primarily to a lineage beyond music: of sea captains navigating by looking skyward, of astrophysicists studying the formation of the Milky Way, of the modern myths of werewolves, of the stories embedded in constellations. As Simon writes in the album’s extensive liner notes, “These stories and explorations reveal a collective yearning to become conscious of our connection to the universe, our deep-seated desire to understand how we fit into it all.” This music underscores the history of the night sky as the place where poetry and science find common ground, where exploration hinges on the imagination. Driven by curiosity and ingenuity, Weitz and Simon look up and wonder.

The legendary Charlemagne Palestine returns to Black Truffle with KKKAAARRREEENNNIIINNNAAA, capturing a 2025 performance in London alongside two close collaborators of recent years, multi-instrumentalist Daniel O’Sullivan and guitarist Oren Ambarchi. While perhaps still best known for the ecstatic piano clouds of his ‘strumming music’ performances, Palestine’s life-long search for what he calls the ‘golden sound’ has taken in an enormous variety of methods of sound production. Now stretching back an incredible six decades, his exploration of continuous sound forms has led him to mega-instruments from the carillon bells of the Saint Thomas Episcopal Church to the synthesizer armada of the Moog Sound Lab, with stops along the way at many of Europe’s grandest church organs. Just as important, though, has been Palestine’s practice as a singer, beginning with his childhood experience of sacred Jewish music and growing through his studies of Indian and Javanese musical traditions in the 1970s.

KKKAAARRREEENNNIIINNNAAA reimagines a key work showcasing Palestine’s voice, the haunting ‘magic song’ Karenina for falsetto singing and harmonium, recorded in Paris in March 1997 to honour the spirit of Palestine’s recently departed black labrador. In this trio version, which Palestine describes as the ‘karaoke’ version, O’Sullivan controls three cassette machines playing the original recording, their slow drift out of phase creating complex patterns of delays and ricochets as the recorded voice chants the syllables of Karenina’s name and other trance words. Beginning with a held organ tone that gradually expands to fill out the frequency spectrum, the piece soon grows into a dense psychedelic mass, as Palestine’s electric organs and the echoing pre-recorded voices are joined by Ambarchi’s swirling Leslie guitar tones and O’Sullivan’s viola, synthesizer and additional vocals. Atop it all sits Palestine’s live voice, in an extraordinary performance of keening, shamanic intensity, sometimes delivered in melodic unison with his keyboard playing.

Though clearly a work of Palestine’s design that sits squarely within his oeuvre, Ambarchi and O’Sullivan are far from simple accompanists on KKKAAARRREEENNNIIINNNAAA. As the elements of the teeming, emotionally charged stew writhe and twist, different elements come momentarily to the surface, O’Sullivan’s spaced-out viola taking the lead in moments that recall Kosugi’s Catch Wave, Ambarchi’s gliding chords and signature stuttering tones enriching the details of many of the quieter episodes. Throughout all its transformations, the music is buoyed up by a sacred aura, as Palestine intones his hypnotic prayer for the soul of his departed pet. Arriving emblazoned with a striking labrador painting by O’Sullivan on the cover, KKKAAARRREEENNNIIINNNAAA is an essential slice of modern ritual music.

Subject Sue is an Amsterdam-based artist creating dystopian nightclub music at the intersection of darkwave and ethereal techno. Inspired by queer club culture and the fragile edge between euphoria and estrangement, her music unfolds into a cinematic nocturnal haze.

Music has always been part of her life. As a vocalist and keyboard player, she performed in various projects and studied Visual Arts, where she explored themes of alter egos, personal realities, and the tension between subjectivity and objectivity in storytelling. Over time, she shifted from being an observer of these themes to embodying them herself. What began as an alter ego gradually evolved into something more personal.

Through Subject Sue, she explores desire, identity, and the strange beauty of the night, transforming fragments of her subjective inner world into cinematic club music. Drawing inspiration from Amsterdam’s queer nightlife and fleeting moments of intimacy, she creates music that inhabits the space between desire and isolation.

Debut EP Details In The Dark explores the blurred boundaries between lust and romance, intimacy and alienation through six tracks rich with pulsating synthesizers, textured soundscapes, and haunting vocal harmonies.

The songs of Jules de Corte are condensed, folky gems with an almost effortless charm. Poised between the intimate and the universal, between lightness and darkness, they touch on religion, love, loss, and the small dramas of everyday life. Yet they resist easy translation. Packed with wordplay, de Corte’s signature alliterations, humor, and local cultural references, the songs inevitably lose something in another language. Still, when a Belgian quartet of improvisers takes them on, joined by American songwriter Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, the songs are reborn rather than merely transposed: literal fidelity gives way to interpretation, and what is lost in words is often gained in spirit.

Even without tracing every change, their overall effect is fascinating. Songs are slowed down, often doubled in length, and filled with unexpected musical intrusions. They gain fuller arrangements and are placed in an entirely new context. Replacing de Corte’s piano with guitar can create a radically different vibe, as in “Mariska.” An added solo can heighten the contrast between childlike perspective and the almost matter- of-fact brutality of “Little Anita.” In “The Stranger,” another use of contrast unsettles the everyday harmony, transforming it with a subtle, disorienting twist.

Ultimately, these performances show that interpretation is not successful simply because it is literal. With the groundwork laid by Linus, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy further liberated the songs from their original versions. Lyrics and melodies become malleable, shaped by his recognizable cadences, timbre, and personal quirks. Like his collaborators, he allows himself the freedom to bend the material to his own approach. There is no radical break between this performance and his other records. Listeners familiar with the originals may be puzzled at first; for those new to de Corte, it is a wholly different experience.

Does it really matter that the original “Little Jesus, Mighty God” is a 100-second nugget combining playful naivete with biblical fervor? In the hands of these five explorers, the song becomes an intriguing contemplation, with subtle musical shades and a recitation in which every syllable carries a maturity that offers a new perspective. Then there is “The Outsider,” which feels as genuine as any original American folk song. The musicians’ process is more than reinterpretation—it is reimagination, bringing new musical compatibility and emotional depth. Whether that depth was there from the start, waiting to be uncovered, or created in the process is beside the point. What matters is that Linus and Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy have made the essence of these songs their own, paying homage yet dancing to their own tune.

Linus is the Belgian duo of guitarist and banjo player Ruben Machtelinckx and reedist and synthesiser player Thomas Jillings. Across five previous albums — Onland (2014), Linus + Skarbø / Leroux (2015), Felt Like Old language at the crossroads of folk, jazz, minimalism, chamber music and free improvisation. Their music is adventurous, shaped by a particular sensitivity to texture, timbre and the subtle interaction between musicians.

What began as a duo gradually grew into a flexible musical world, bringing Linus together with musicians such as Nils Økland, Ingar Zach, Niels Van Heertum, Øyvind Skarbø and Frederik Leroux. Yet each new constellation has remained recognisably Linus: music in which carefully considered forms leave space for intuition, interaction and the unexpected.

For their sixth album, Linus takes a new step by moving into the world of song and text. Inspired by a shared love for the late Dutch songwriter Jules De Corte, the album is a reimagining of De Corte’s unique repertoire. More than simply interpreting De Corte’s songs, they absorb and reshape them, bringing them into dialogue with their own musical language. In keeping with this open approach, they are joined by celebrated vocalist Bonnie “Prince” Billy. With albums such as 1999’s I See a Darkness appearing on several greatest album lists, Bonnie “Prince” Billy is a cult figure in the alternative folk scene, and his highly intuitive way of singing seamlessly matches the subtle interplay Linus has developed over more than a decade.

2026 Repress

Robag Wruhme, working on the material. On the very same piece. And performing two different movements. First, thinking in category Album: who will hear it where? also: mood, position, length. Second, thinking in category Maxisingle: a spinning-tool for the club – another form of another functionality: accelerating the rhythm, lowering the harmonicmelodious, still preserving the nature of the song. And each version should make you HOT for the other!
Nata Alma, a voice loses itself in the infinite, a car brakes, a horse whinnies, the sun scorches relentless. Further, further on, towards the flickering, stoically. Water, flames on the horizon, Fata Morgana, a mirage. »And you might say, we've got no place to go?« - okay? no notokay at all!: Shuffle!
Nata Alma, melancholic Eight-minute-forty. A love song, a wave good-bye: »And you might say, that you need me no more?« sings Sidsel Endresen alongside Bugge Wesseltoft's swells and ebb-aways – metal never sounded so longing; a buzzing swing, a siren call from afar.
Robag Wruhme takes a seat at the organ and plays minor bass notes. He gets up, leaves the room and lays down a dry rock of funk: wooden kick on wooden snare, tight-cut voices, driving hi-hats and shakers, gated synth danglers and percussion loops. Relentless, stoically. »And you might say, that it's over?« – relentless, maybe, but that's how he creates the Further: keep going! dance it off! a new day rising!
And right here. Flip it and keep on moving: Venq Tolep. A summer meadow, grass-stains, a gentle breeze, an early smell of hay. Venq Tolep. Endorphins tickle under the skin. A
percussive spectacle, dance of the insects. Hopping around in flat shoes, the beat is phat and reverberated by a cluster of trees. Stabs on the e-piano set in, picturing the euphoric moment when Loving-feelings walk hand-in-hand with a Hint of Melancholy.
Robag Wruhme, Nata Alma and Venq Tolep - music for dance floors, inside and outside, music for the summer, day and night, and for convertibles on the way there.

Hanne Lippard and Renato Grieco's Today's Special is a suite of language works synthesising melody and diction that integrates the literary and the audible in a repertoire of songs that bask in the melody of voice and the punctuations of structured composition. Working with methods of reduction rather than opulence in both tonal composition and rhetoric, each piece pegs the poetic to the musical with compositional schematics and methods. It is important to state that there is little to none improvisation here, instead, the duo set up matrices, rules and structural links that facilitated meaningful locus of exchange between their two practices. Lippard's texts are a collection of new and previously completed works. In these, as is typical for her work, she enjoys the easy pleasure of wordplay, iterative language, and decontextualised anecdote, as in opener Portrait of a Betrayal, a piece about the loss of a phone and the way it haunted the owner who dropped it, based on a lived experience. Grieco's instrumentation works with Lippard's language art as a form of acoustic typography. "I studied graphic design and I think about how you can express typography through voice," she says. "Renato's use of the viola da gamba becomes like an underline, or a font's brushstrokes, in ways that feel typographical." In this, the classically-trained composer Grieco often finds and echoes the pitch movements of Lippard's voice, intonation mirrored and revealed, linguistic meaning doubled and shadowed by plucked, strummed or bowed strings. His main instrument is the viola da gamba, the instrument considered closest to the human voice for its tonal range and ability to mimic inflections and timbre, and here he brings it even closer to the voice, building systems by which it moves with and around Lippard. He also plays piano and Wurlitzer, and joins her in speaking on Receiver and in conversation for final track The Black Rose. "Hanne's voice is an artist's voice, embodied as the artwork itself," he says. "But where my approach is from the perspective of a composer, hers is around rhetoric and language. We worked towards each other in this sense, Hanne finding a space to welcome my voice, and me designing an acoustic space to enhance her vocal persona." In some tracks the structural connections are obvious - the matched tumbling delivery and stepped pitches of voice and piano in Aficionado sounding like two tipsy friends descending a staircase. In others, like the triptych of tracks Three Rungs Ladder, structured with rules derived from nursery rhymes, or cumulative song (akin to the 12 Days of Christmas). For the Colour 1 and Colour 2 pieces, the duo worked from palettes of colours connected to clusters of harmonies, which underlined the power of the word and its articulation. The absurd Labradorable personifies a people pleaser, A Story About Being Blue is an imagined playful monologue from the Deep Blue supercomputer - requesting in sing-song stop motion to be called Debbie, and Larry - as Grieco echoes in factual reportage. Hurtbeat unpacks and recomposes a tweeted non-apology by a Russian art collector about owning a piece of racist art, Grieco shadowing Lippard's generating a third `drop-shadow' performer from the resonances between the duo, typographic re-articulation of the source material. The Receiver includes lines from Robert Ashley's Improvement (Don Leaves Linda), Ashley existing as a spiritual parent of sorts to the practices contained on Today's Special, and here interpolated as if he is being quoted and written through within the audible world of the piece in a palimpsest of borrowed sentences. Closing track The Black Rose contains its own self-aware comedy, a lightly distorted conversation sourced from a Reddit thread about whether black roses exist, recorded as if it were an internet radio or a low budget podcast, the casual exchange stilted in the delivery of platitudes as scripted speech. Today's Special was developed in person over the course of a series of small residencies - at Deutsche Akademie Rom Villa Massimo, Rome; Fondazione Morra, Napoli; Callie's, Berlin. In these limited periods that rarely stretched beyond a week, Lippard and Grieco developed strategies for the works, keeping tightly locked to musical concepts. This, for Grieco, is about maintaining a solid, meaningful connection within the compositions, and committing to everything having a purpose for existing within the work. Each element pulls its weight; has something to say, literally and metaphorically speaking. In the same way that Lippard's work leaves nowhere for her to hide, he wants the music to exist with its own naked purpose: "It's is about exposing nudity via reduced materials," says Grieco. "This is a form of courage we want to embrace. Once we take off everything, it needs to be extremely precise to maintain a connection with the audience. We have a lot of tools to hide behind now, to protect ourselves and our identities as artists, performers, and in life more generally. It's something I don't want to do. I want extreme reduction: no hiding."

Twenty-five years after its original release, Markus Guentner's debut album In Moll returns in a special anniversary reissue on Black Knoll Editions, reaffirming its place as one of the defining ambient recordings of the early 21st century.

Released in 2001 during the formative years of Kompakt's influential Pop Ambient series, In Moll emerged from a period of rapid transformation in electronic music. New technologies, expanding digital networks, and shifting creative possibilities allowed artists to imagine entirely new sonic worlds. Amid this fertile landscape, Guentner's music stood apart. Combining delicate melodic fragments, slow-moving harmonies, and a remarkable sense of spatial depth, In Moll introduced a distinct artistic voice whose impact can still be felt a quarter-century later.

The album arrived shortly after Guentner's contributions to the inaugural Pop Ambient compilation, including the now-beloved "Regensburg 1," named after his Bavarian hometown. Those early recordings immediately captured the attention of Kompakt founders Michael Mayer and Wolfgang Voigt. Recalling his first encounter with the music, Mayer describes listening to a demo CDR with Voigt while wandering through Cologne late into the night, replaying the tracks for hours. "We knew that we had found something outrageously beautiful and we wanted the whole world to listen."

Across its running time, In Moll unfolds like a series of dreamlike landscapes, inviting the listener into a world that feels both familiar and strangely other. Bells, hisses, distant textures, and slow-moving bass tones drift through vast expanses of atmosphere while luminous synthesizer washes seem to blur the horizon in a fine digital mist. The album's transportive qualities are matched by a remarkable sense of compositional discipline. Every gesture feels deliberate, every texture carefully placed. Balancing warmth and melancholy with restraint, Guentner created a body of work that rewards both close listening and complete surrender.

Reflecting on the album twenty-five years later, Wolfgang Voigt describes Guentner as "one of the first, but also one of the most important ambient artists" associated with Kompakt, calling his music "an integral, timeless part of the long history of pop ambient." Music critic and former Pitchfork Editor-in-Chief Mark Richardson, who reviewed In Moll upon its original release, similarly noted that the album "marked the arrival of an important new voice," and today regards it as "one of the finest ambient releases of the decade."

The album's influence continues to extend far beyond its original audience. For many listeners, In Moll served as an entry point into a new understanding of what ambient music could be. Black Knoll boss Rafael Anton Irisarri first encountered the album shortly after its release in 2001. "It immediately opened a door to a world of music I didn't know existed," he recalls. "At a time when I was still discovering my own creative voice, Markus showed me entirely new possibilities for what electronic music could communicate." Simply put, "The Sight Below would not have existed without In Moll paving the way."

Far from a historical curiosity, In Moll continues to feel strikingly contemporary. What once sounded futuristic now feels timeless, its patient pacing, attention to detail, and sense of wonder remaining entirely intact. The album's enduring power lies not only in its influence, but in the curiosity it continues to inspire, inviting listeners to step inside its world and lose themselves within it.

To mark its twenty-fifth anniversary, Black Knoll Editions presents the most complete edition of In Moll to date. Newly remastered in full analog by Rafael Anton Irisarri, this expanded release pairs the original album with a newly reworked interpretation by Markus Guentner himself, revisiting the material through the lens of twenty-five years of artistic development. The anniversary edition also features a new visual presentation designed by Guentner, offering a visual counterpart to the album's continued evolution. Together, these recordings and visuals celebrate both the enduring legacy of In Moll and its ability to reveal new dimensions twenty-five years later.

This 25th Anniversary Edition on Black Knoll Editions celebrates a recording whose quiet impact has only grown with time, preserving a work that remains as evocative, singular, and essential today as it was in 2001.

Twenty-five years after its original release, Markus Guentner's debut album In Moll returns in a special anniversary reissue on Black Knoll Editions, reaffirming its place as one of the defining ambient recordings of the early 21st century.

Released in 2001 during the formative years of Kompakt's influential Pop Ambient series, In Moll emerged from a period of rapid transformation in electronic music. New technologies, expanding digital networks, and shifting creative possibilities allowed artists to imagine entirely new sonic worlds. Amid this fertile landscape, Guentner's music stood apart. Combining delicate melodic fragments, slow-moving harmonies, and a remarkable sense of spatial depth, In Moll introduced a distinct artistic voice whose impact can still be felt a quarter-century later.

The album arrived shortly after Guentner's contributions to the inaugural Pop Ambient compilation, including the now-beloved "Regensburg 1," named after his Bavarian hometown. Those early recordings immediately captured the attention of Kompakt founders Michael Mayer and Wolfgang Voigt. Recalling his first encounter with the music, Mayer describes listening to a demo CDR with Voigt while wandering through Cologne late into the night, replaying the tracks for hours. "We knew that we had found something outrageously beautiful and we wanted the whole world to listen."

Across its running time, In Moll unfolds like a series of dreamlike landscapes, inviting the listener into a world that feels both familiar and strangely other. Bells, hisses, distant textures, and slow-moving bass tones drift through vast expanses of atmosphere while luminous synthesizer washes seem to blur the horizon in a fine digital mist. The album's transportive qualities are matched by a remarkable sense of compositional discipline. Every gesture feels deliberate, every texture carefully placed. Balancing warmth and melancholy with restraint, Guentner created a body of work that rewards both close listening and complete surrender.

Reflecting on the album twenty-five years later, Wolfgang Voigt describes Guentner as "one of the first, but also one of the most important ambient artists" associated with Kompakt, calling his music "an integral, timeless part of the long history of pop ambient." Music critic and former Pitchfork Editor-in-Chief Mark Richardson, who reviewed In Moll upon its original release, similarly noted that the album "marked the arrival of an important new voice," and today regards it as "one of the finest ambient releases of the decade."

The album's influence continues to extend far beyond its original audience. For many listeners, In Moll served as an entry point into a new understanding of what ambient music could be. Black Knoll boss Rafael Anton Irisarri first encountered the album shortly after its release in 2001. "It immediately opened a door to a world of music I didn't know existed," he recalls. "At a time when I was still discovering my own creative voice, Markus showed me entirely new possibilities for what electronic music could communicate." Simply put, "The Sight Below would not have existed without In Moll paving the way."

Far from a historical curiosity, In Moll continues to feel strikingly contemporary. What once sounded futuristic now feels timeless, its patient pacing, attention to detail, and sense of wonder remaining entirely intact. The album's enduring power lies not only in its influence, but in the curiosity it continues to inspire, inviting listeners to step inside its world and lose themselves within it.

To mark its twenty-fifth anniversary, Black Knoll Editions presents the most complete edition of In Moll to date. Newly remastered in full analog by Rafael Anton Irisarri, this expanded release pairs the original album with a newly reworked interpretation by Markus Guentner himself, revisiting the material through the lens of twenty-five years of artistic development. The anniversary edition also features a new visual presentation designed by Guentner, offering a visual counterpart to the album's continued evolution. Together, these recordings and visuals celebrate both the enduring legacy of In Moll and its ability to reveal new dimensions twenty-five years later.

This 25th Anniversary Edition on Black Knoll Editions celebrates a recording whose quiet impact has only grown with time, preserving a work that remains as evocative, singular, and essential today as it was in 2001.

One of the best mid 70s roots tunes, reissued the way we always wanted to see it. The Officials (later known as Earth & Stone) "Babylonian" was released on a very rare Jaguar 45 as a solo vocal, but also had a lesser known release on a Dynamic Sounds compilation album. That album cut is a duo harmony vocal over a slightly different take of the rhythm, and never reissued on vinyl before. Both vocal cuts are now paired back to back in crisp master tape quality.

2026 Repress

For Fuse's fifth release, Brussels' Altinbas returns for a whirlwind of meditative and harmonious techno. Solidifying his identity of focused yet vibrant club music, the Fuse resident and label co-curator offers his second contribution 'Sustain' as a dancefloor-enveloping take on modern techno. Known for rich chords, whipping pads, and dry percussion, Altinbas proves once again that his touch as a producer revolves around balance and calculated effect.

'Trail of' kick starts the EP with flourishing synthwork and a taste of dub as has become the Belgian artist's signature. Dotting toms as rhythmic accents and a low to the ground shaker make for a swaying introduction with an infectious groove. Breaking things up in the second track, 'Life Force' presents Detroit style chord stabs and playful rhythmic work. With a mental synth at the foundation, the track presents 909 drums to reinvigorate atmospheric synths that make 'Life Force' a subtle hybrid of classic club genres. With a wink at Fuse's heritage and a peak into its future, Altinbas' focus on enduring music can be felt throughout 'Sustain' and truly understood in the Brussels club. As a fitting follow up, 'Purpose' opens the B-side with illuminating chords and rounded sound design and a pulsating low-end. With almost a lighthearted tone, the record fits across genres and rooms, claiming movement instead of mood as its sole medium. The title track 'Sustain' proves just that - a melodic sequence and progressive arrangement make for an intensely euphoric closing. Evolving melodies, opening filters, and big but calculated buildups sum up Altinbas's work for Fuse's fifth release on the new label. The record brims with warmth and yet it finds its way on darker dance floors with ease, providing a refined style of music that belongs only to him across the international scene.

Named after the tendency to impose familiar likenesses, such as faces, on random - usually inanimate - objects, Pareidolia is Jake Muir's way of interpreting the consonances between so-called “ambient” music and extreme heavy metal. Extracting the headiest, most atmospheric sections from hundreds of death metal and black metal tracks, Muir plays the role of both DJ and electroacoustic composer, concocting a lysergic elixir of fractal distortions and prolonged, decelerated riffs that slowly evaporates into iridescent vapor. If there's any trace of the original sources left, Muir makes sure that residue is subtly bewildering, like clouds in the sky that form imposing, larger than life images, or trampled bracken that falls into the shape of “trve kvlt” insignia.

The idea for the album materialized when Muir was working on 2022's Talisman, his collaborative album with multi-instrumentalist Evan Caminiti. Processing guitar for the first time, Muir began to unpack his long relationship with rock music and its Escher-like maze of sub-genres, from the tech metal he obsessed over as a teenager to Loop and Main's drone-y, textured variants. Scraping the internet for unconventional contemporary metal albums, he stumbled across music that seemed to hover between different realms, merging its frenetic, noisy sections with psychedelic interludes that harmonize with classic industrial and avant-garde music, material like :zoviet*france:, Nocturnal Emissions and Z'EV.

Iconic Argentinian DJ/producer Flug drops full EP on Mutual Rytm Raw with ‘Dew At Night’. Flug, aka Sebastian Lopez, has long been part of the fabric of underground techno with a signature sound that is deep, driving and atmospheric, ensuring that the Argentinian has crafted his own story across the globe. Following his track ‘In Control’ on Mutual Rytm’s ‘Federation Of Rytm IV’ compilation, he follows the likes of KiNK & Raredub and Deetron to make his appearance on sub-imprint, Mutual Rytm Raw, with his ‘Dew At Night’ EP featuring a rare rebuilt version of an unreleased sketch dating all the way back to 2009. ‘Dew At Night’ was unearthed while searching for another track among sessions from over a decade ago. After hearing it again, it sparked a new creative age to rebuild it from scratch, and while experimenting with synthesisers, the main arpeggio appeared. "At first it was hypnotic but harmonically repetitive; the groove and phrasing felt incredibly catchy, so I decided to push the harmony further and change some chords until I found the exact point where emotion and tension could coexist naturally.” Around that bright arp are darker, more raw percussive textures and drums that make for a great contrast and melancholic atmosphere that marries emotion with physical structure. "In my mind, the track was always conceived as a closing track - that moment when the darkness is still there, but the first light of the day starts to appear and the whole atmosphere changes.” After hearing the original, label founder SHDW suggested the Argentinian should remix and reinterpret the record to complete the full EP, and so he steps out of his comfort zone across the remaining tracks, exploring different versions of his musical universe and showcasing all sides of his sound. First up is the ‘Dub Version’, which represents his contemporary sound - the melodic and emotional essence of the original track remains but is translated into a more hypnotic and club-oriented language. The ‘Instrumental Version’ is a brings more progressive-leaning sounds with piano, sax and live percussion textures that, says the artist, allowed him to "rediscover myself as a producer by using tools and influences gathered throughout my long journey in electronic music”. Closing the package, the digital-only ‘Raw Version’ strips away the melody and gets much more primal, introducing a tunnelling groove for when the dancefloor gets dark and moody.

“One foot out the door, another in the otherworld…”
So begins Hannah Lew’s debut, self-titled solo record, soaked in imperious, wide-eyed pop songwriting and a girl-group/post punk aesthetic that belies the artist’s history in the U.S. underground. A towering, hook-laden album, it’s infused with an optimism and surrealism that conversely deals with the times we find ourselves in.

Recorded at home in Richmond, CA and in The Best House studio with Maryam Qudus in Oakland CA, with the assistance of a crack team of West Coast musicians, this album sees Hannah Lew stepping out from behind the legacy of her two groups Grass Widow and Cold Beat. While musically bearing similarities with her previous work, “Hannah Lew” is a bold leap into direct pop territory, making ample use of a vocal style that teases out the inherent melancholy in her melodies. Mastered by Sarah Register, each song is a perfectly honed nugget that frequently pulls the heart in two directions at once.

Themes of change, breaking up, shattering old ways of being are shot through the record. For the front cover, a photograph of the artist’s face was printed, ripped up and re-assembled, resembling the creative process embarked upon by Lew for her first “solo” material. The album feels instinctual, almost dream-like in its assemblage of sweeping synths and pulsating, propulsive drum machine beat patterns with Lew’s vocal performances sensitive and caressing over the top. Increasingly relying on the subconscious and dreams to guide her creative process, Hannah Lew frequently abandons literal interpretations or linear narratives, the songs seeming to exist in a swooning, effortless flow-state while remaining emotionally hard hitting.

On an album where every song could be a single, there are kaleidoscopic shades and varying emotional tones in abundance. First single Another Twilight is carried along a pumping, Italo-disco-style 4/4 beat and mono-synth bass line, the low end pulling at the heart and body. Lew’s vocal melody teases the track before swan-diving into a gorgeous chorus as she sings “it’s all over baby and I don’t mind… in decline, I take my time…” The album is suffused with moments like this. On slow builder Damaged Melody, an arpeggiated synth elongates the verse before a cascading synth showers down melodic glitter. The stunning Replica uses dual swirling synth patterns before a driving, synthpop chorus for the ages carries Hannah Lew’s vocal into the stereo field, sailing in on a high register singed with the embers of a break up.

In a departure from previous groups, her solo songs are guided by dreams and free association inspired by Dada and the Surrealist movement and sculpted afterwards. As such, the songs reveal themselves on repeated listens, revealing traces of heartbreak inspired by both personal and global elements - Hannah Lew regards the album “a wartime album.” On Move In Silence, Lew intones “there’s a war outside, just out of view,” revealing the dichotomy at play throughout. With the songs evolving naturally and in a flow state, the pressures and sadnesses of the modern age bleed through, mixed in with Lew’s inherent love, sensitivity and fractured-but-intact optimism. On the swooning, sublime Sunday layers of Numanoid synths open up for the commanding vocal performance pontificating on grief, love, pain as she “feels the ache on Sunday…” As the chorus builds and Lew’s call-and-response vocal adds to the emotional tension, it almost feels like too much to take.

Elsewhere, there are echoes of Hannah Lew’s previous work. On Time Wasted a bass guitar comes in with a heavy, punk attack before the synths and vocal harmonies reminiscent of later Cold Beat elevate everything. The glassy, sweetly resigned closer The Clock sounds like so classic it could be cover, a sweetened Jesus & Mary Chain tune perhaps, before it erupts into volcanic chorus that could only come from Hannah Lew in 2026.

Harmacy (30th Anniversary Expanded Edition) finally makes Sebadoh’s seminal 1996 indie-rock album available again, and adds 16 bonus tracks, including alternate versions, rare B-sides, BBC sessions, and live material from the Harmacy era.


Sebadoh was formed in 1986 in Northampton, Massachusetts, by Eric Gaffney and Lou Barlow (Dinosaur Jr., The Folk Implosion), with multi-instrumentalist Jason Loewenstein completing the line-up in 1989, and Bob Fay taking Gaffney’s spot in 1994. By 1994, the band had released five albums and more or less changed the pockmarked face of indie rock. Their albums were mostly home recordings, decried for their lack of sharp production, but embraced by fans of Barlow's intimate songwriting style, which owed as much to Joni Mitchell as Bob Mould. In 1996 Harmacy, their breakout sixth album, arrived, finding Sebadoh as conflicted as ever: torn between screaming punk and gentle crooning, replete with highly personal songs guaranteed to bring down even the most super-charged midnight ravers.


Released in the wake of The Folk Implosion’s Top 40 hit "Natural One," Harmacy became Sebadoh's first charting album in the U.S., and yielded the hit "Ocean." Interview said, “Harmacy is nothing short of a masterpiece.” The New Yorker called it a collection of “perfectly crafted, honest (read: ambiguous and emotionally twisted), impassioned songs about love and hate.” Harmacy was hailed as one of the best albums of 1996 by Rolling Stone, The Village Voice, and NME.

*repress*

The prolific Lord Of The Isles (aka Scotland's Neil McDonald) has had a string of stunning 12's over the past few years on labels such as Permanent Vacation, Unthank, Shevchenko, Mule and of course his four track 'Year Of The City EP' on Phonica, which was widely acclaimed upon its release in 2012.

This time LOTI presents two long-form tracks, each a mini-masterpiece in itself. The 10 minute plus 'Greane' bursts into life after an intro of kicks and white noise hi-hats. It continues to slowly build, with pitch-bent synth lines and a pulsing bass-line making way for a melacholic shift in mood. Truly original stuff!

On the flip, a swirl of synthetic strings introduces 'Gigha', in a manner that brings to mind Rhythm
Is Rhythm's legendary 'Kao-Tic Harmony', before the drums and infectious acid-line join in. Over the 8 minutes they continue to interweave and play off each other to dazzling effect.

Artwork by Jack Featherstone, the designer of a number of sleeves for Border Community (including the highly praised campaign behind James Holden's 'The Inheritors', its singles and live visuals), Electric Minds, Warm and of course, Phonica.

Astro’, the new double LP by Donato Dozzy, is in many ways a culmination and intersection of life-long interests, and Tresor Records is delighted to announce that it will launch into the cosmos on November 20, 2026.
Donato Dozzy is beloved for his way of blending synthesised sounds into seamless, deep, hypnotic works, whether as a DJ or in the studio. So it might come as a surprise that at the root and source of Dozzy’s musical inspiration, we find Japanese children’s cartoons and toys.
In the late 70s into the 80s, Italian youngsters, including Dozzy, were captivated by a wave of Japanese cartoons featuring Jumbo Machinders, awe-inspiring robots on adventures beyond our solar system. Every episode came dubbed into Italian, and had its own specially written Italian theme song, each pressed onto a 7inch single. This was the launchpad for two lifelong obsessions: vinyl records and vinyl figurines, and still kept in his home today in immaculate, carefully tended collections.
In 2025, Dozzy took a sample from the first of the Japanese themes he ever owned, Astro Robot Contatto Ypsylon. Marking the first time he had directly sampled a song for his own work, later to become the track ‘Astro’, this created an impulse to begin a series of new music, sparked by the robots in his collection.
Dozzy’s meticulous respect for his collections is reflected in the precision of these tracks. Elements within each track are harmoniously organised together while ever retaining a sense of space that reflects the cosmic subject matter. Explorative tracks like ‘Raydeen’, and ‘Himika (M Song)’ exemplify this with powerful yet gentle arpeggios, while ‘Pegasu’ brings forth visions of robots assembling for a deep-space mission launch.
Much like the human characters in the cartoons who piloted the Jumbo Machinder robots, on ‘Astro’, Donato takes control of mighty machines such as the EMS Synthi AKS to create sonic journeys for us all to embark on. ‘Jumbo Crack’, written on the AKS, is a soaring beatless piece built of rising bass tones and white noise that combine to conjure taking off from earth or a long journey through space. The whole collection is rounded out with ‘Ryoma (Lò Song)’, a gigantic trance anthem that could easily be the closing credits of your favourite childhood cartoon.
With ‘Astro’, Donato Dozzy pulls together threads in his life: the warp of music and synthesisers intertwining with the weft of childhood memories. A tribute to that freedom to dream, and to the sounds that, from the turntable of his childhood, led him toward alien and technological musical territories.

One of the key architects of Gospel House Music, DJ Spen, gets set to release his brand new full-length artist album, ‘The Praise Party’ on Quantize Recordings. DJ Spen’s weekly Sunday ‘Praise Party’ live stream was born in the pandemic, when a heartfelt idea from his wife Kelly, “go live and bring hope to people”, grew into a global online family united by music, faith, and irresistible gospel house edits. Six years on, that community still gathers, and ‘The Praise Party’ album carries that legacy forward, continuing to bring hope and inspiration through music. A true labour of love, this album sees DJ Spen deliver fifteen uplifting songs where joyful voices rise together in spine-tingling harmony, and stunning solo performances flow over a musical feast of heart lifting, hand clapping and roof raising Gospel grooves.

What's the point of the howl of string to speaker, the hammering of stick-on skin? Is it transcendence, elevating the human spirit by catharsis in sound? Or is it summoning chaos, a purgatory in which to bask in all that’s unclean, the better to feel alive?
Why not both? Because that’s what’s on offer on Diet Of Worms, the second Rocket release by The Shits, Leeds via Newcastle’s titans of disgust and deliverance. This is a feast for the senses in the worst way possible - primal rock boiled down to its essence and flung full in your face. Using repetition, tortured vocal invective and heads-down intensity as blunt instruments, these eight tracks are an unprecedented torrent of acidic salvation. Whilst lurking somewhere on the decadence-destruction axis between the nihilism of prime Stooges and the bloody blackout of Braimbombs, Diet Of Worms is possessed of a legitimately uncompromising hostility that both elevates and debases it to co-ordinates unknown.
There are revelations here in the riffage and the rancour, even if they are the kind that occur in the bleary miasma of the lock-in, or witnessing the streetlight blur of the subsequent stagger home. Even more single-minded and remorseless than the band’s Rocket debut ‘You’re A Mess’, this is a record that demands full immersion. Whether it’s ‘Then You’re Dead’ hammering on a pulverising garage-stinking riff until it begs for mercy, or ‘Change My Ways’, whose Creedence-In-Hell swagger and lurch is that of abjection transmuted into joy, this is psychedelia forcibly removed from its comfort zone of pastiche, and thrust into a bad-trip realm of the vivid and nightmarish.
But rarely has the process of making beauty and horror indivisible seemed like so much fun. If Werner Herzog was right, and the only harmony in the universe is that of overwhelming and collective murder, then The Shits are the true music of the spheres.