Buscar:hove

Finally on vinyl, the legendary broadcast from the Hove festival in Arendal, Norway on Jun 26th, 2007. Amy Winehouse battled through heavy rain to deliver a stellar set on the first day of the festival, conquering the hearts of the Norwegian crowd with a medley of hits that borrowed heavily from her second album Back To Black in addition to an explosive mix of cover versions including numbers originally performed by the likes of the Specials, Toots and Maytals, and the Zutons. Amy's blend of soul, ska, R&B e Jazz left an incredibile mark in the music world and this breathtaking performance shows how we lost the most incredible vocal talent of her generation.

'Middle of the Road Less Travelled' is not only the debut release by Michal Turtle on Light of Other Days, it is also his first new material released since the amazing reissues put out by Music From Memory in recent years. The three tracks on this EP were written and produced by Michal in 2017 with additional production and guitar playing by Light of Other Days' very own HOVE.

The two met back in 2016 when HOVE contacted Michal after he heard the 12' «Are you Psychic» and was blown away. As it turned out Michal was living in Basel which is only a short train ride away by train from the Light of Other Days home base in Zurich. The two started meeting and playing music together. Soon after, they put together a live-show for Michal's music which had its debut show at Phono Festival in Denmark in 2017. During this time, they started working on new music together as well. The result is this EP.

The music on 'Middle of the Road Less Travelled' is a continuation of Michal's musical exploration into other-worldly territory. Michal is a master in building hypnotic textures from repetitive rhythms that collide with trippy and atmospheric synthesizers. The delayed and dubby guitar lines by HOVE were recorded during rehearsal sessions in Michal's living room in Basel and the last track of the EP 'Agallo (Real)' ends with vocals performed by Lucianne Lassalle. Besides playing in local bands with Michal back in the 80s, Lucianne also performed and co- wrote early Michal Turtle tracks like 'Phantoms of Dreamland' or 'Village Voice' from his first record 'Music from the Living Room'.

Portuguese musician and expert experimentalist Diogo steps up for Heion Records second outing. Diogo signs two originals for his Healiocentric EP, joined by a remix from legendary Wild Bunch selector and producer Milo Johnson, aka DJ Nature whose roots in New York’s late-80s underground shaped his raw blend of early house. The EP opens with "Healiocentric" unfolds as a deep atmospheric journey where modular synthesis meets live instrumentation and tuned percussion. Arpeggiated sequences glide through hovering brass-like tones and modulated pads with effortless positivity, riding a syncopated landscape of rim shots and broken beats.


"Traums" dives deeper into Diogo's intricately woven world. Monochordal spoken word samples drift sparingly across organic clicks and rich analogue textures, conjuring a jazz-like atmosphere that rewards careful listening. Lush pads echo the craft of artists like Two Lone Swordsmen or Ricardo Villalobos, but the steady thump of a 909 kick and a fluid bassline leave no doubt: this is a deep-of- night heater for the enlightened dance floor. DJ Nature closes the EP by taking "Healiocentric" on an inspired tangent into disco-techno territory. Acoustic beats anchor a minimalistic take on acid funk, while a near-naive piano line sets Chicago house against Berlin school repetition. Gated noise, field recordings, wah-wah electric piano pads and classic house organs complete the picture. Cannon fodder of the highest order.

Pleasurewood return with 'Electric Telepathy', their second full-length LP offering Simla Space Funk, Psych-Library and Vintage-Cinematic Raga-Rock grooves.

This new offering from the band embraces more of their vintage Hindi Cinema soundtrack influences — "Chump Change", "The Hoverfly" and "RAMMM" could easily fit into the middle of an R.D. Burman score, each with their incongruous synthesis of different genres, infectious percussion, classical modes and funk chops.

There is also a slight sweep across a too-slow-to-disco tempo and feel with the moody Johnny Guitar Watson-esque slow burn of "Good Falcon" up to the nonchalant four-to-the-floor of "Last Dance Saloon" with its lyrical warning of digital over-saturation in our social-media saturated world and a foreboding of the mini-monoliths sat in the palms of our hands that in a Kubrickian way threaten to cosmically absorb us all as a species into their individual jet-black abysses.

And then, coming into focus like a sweet slice of disjointed, lo-fi, 8 bit space disco, "Mojave Desert" is a slacker-strut with telephone vocals dub guitars, dry cosmic synths and futurist Farfisa organ driven by an almost Acid-Jazz meets Post-Punk Bass line. The song is autobiographical in its account of an excursion along the 29 Palms Highway reflecting on an escape from the City of Angels not so far away, up into the stark psychedelic desert realm.

There is a lot to unpack in this record and yet more to discover so it will be best to allocate 40 minutes in a comfortable dimly-lit room with eyes closed and maybe a cognac in hand, to have a deep-dive into its well-travelled and esoterically funky grooves.

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

Gi Gi describes his process as “dubwise sampledelia.” It begins with fragments and ends somewhere else entirely, destabilizing its source material until it stops pointing backward. A borrowed sound, looped and bent, eventually forgets where it came from; it stops referencing anything but itself.

This liquid sensibility shaped his earlier work, music that hovered between drift and propulsion, suggesting the dance floor without fully stepping onto it. Presence was implied, edges stayed soft. The center was always there, but diffused like mist on a screen.

With In Lieu, that center comes into focus. Half written in Texas, half in Australia, the shift isn’t simply geographic, but internal. The record moves with a coiled, anticipatory energy; the drums arrive with more force and the bass organizes the room instead of melting into it. It's dense with the feeling of more bodies in the frame. Textures still smear and refract, but they move around a clearer axis.

Where past records circled their core, these inhabit it, pulling closer to the body. “Some Of” and “Arque” lean into low-end pressure without abandoning his instinct for drift. "Pink Dirt" circles around mechanical drums and dizzying vocal chops, head-down and visceral. Elsewhere, voices gain newfound contour, materializing in “Downswept” with intimate musings and nearly forming a lead vocal on the title track before dissolving again.

In Lieu moves with a newfound confidence, compressing inward, sounding closer to the source of its own pulse.

In Gianfranco Rosi’s portrait of Naples, Sotto le Nuvole, the ground shakes periodically. Between Mount Vesuvius and the Tyrrhenian Sea, the fumaroles of the Phlegraean Fields hiss volcanic gas and steam. Below the sleeping volcano, modern day Naples emerges in black and white and fills with voices, with lives. From the traces of history and the concerns of the present, Rosi documents a city immersed in its continuous past, with Daniel Blumberg’s minimal soundscape hovering in a sonic space between liquid and air.
Tasked with creating a soundscape that would suspend space within Rosi’s film, Blumberg called upon the extended technique of saxophonists Seymour Wright and John Butcher to create a gossamer fabric of traces and sounds abstracted from their instruments. Having transitioned from theoretical physics to the saxophone, John Butcher has always deeply considered space in the context of his playing. His concerns are with flow, density and how the saxophone is situated in the living world. Zeroing in on the core sonic properties of the mechanical and acoustic components of the saxophone, Seymour Wright has integrated its every breath, reed vibration, keypad clatter and hissed microtone of his alto into his own, unique improvisational language. In his work with these two seminal players, Blumberg makes his most concentrated soundtrack to date - reinforcing the film's sense of overlapping time and space, and pushing at the limits of experimentation.

Initially recorded in Daniel’s flat in London, Butcher and Wright centre themselves around long, consistent tones, so soft that it seems breath is being gently pulled from the saxophone's bell by an invisible hand. Blumberg himself adds haunting bass harmonica, and recordings of Wright’s launeddas - a traditional and ancient triple pipe polyphonic reed instrument from Sardinia, Italy. Blumberg then travelled to the volcanic region of Baia, next to Pompeii. Once a flourishing classical Roman city loved by Nero, Baia slowly sank under hydrothermal pressure, leaving the city in a kind of geological purgatory. Using specialised geophones and hydrophones, Blumberg took those initial recordings and amplified them underwater, sending them calling out across the ruins of Baia’s mosaics, Nymphaeum statues and villas.

“It was important to me that the music was whispered in the same landscape that Gianfranco has worked for the past three years, so that you can hear the volcanic air gulping, the lapping of the waves, the steam and bubbles popping against John and Seymour’s saxophone breaths – an echo from a suspended time.”
What emerges is deeply melancholic, tender, subtle and right at the edges of audio technology. Submerged in an aquarian mausoleum, the mysterious vibrations of the saxophone and its bell become an echo of an echo, wading from the future into the past. ‘Sotto le Nuvole’ is less a soundtrack than a process of aeration - a sonic puncture in the material of the film which allows its central message to breathe, and a remarkable experiment at the limits of the saxophone’s possibility.

„Öd“ marks the long-awaited return of Institut für Feinmotorik - the Black Forest collective known for using eight prepared turntables to investigate acoustic micro-phenomena generated by everyday objects - with a new album and their first full-length release on Faitiche. It is also the return of their almost comical understatement as personal artistic principle: „making almost nothing out of almost nothing,“ compressed into the dots on an umlaut.

The Öd-nis, the wasteland, is a field that the collective has been ploughing in sound since their first release in 1997. Eight prepared turntables, four mixers, no records, six hands (give or take) merge into what they call the „Octogrammoticum“. A rotating organism of surfaces in friction, fed with the clutter from a drawer: rubber bands or tin foil, CDs, a discarded socket board. Under IFF's scrutinizing stylus, mundane almost-nothings get scratched open to reveal the acoustic density of negative space itself.

Last year’s „Adhesive Tape“ drew IFF closer together after an almost ten-year hiatus. An eponymous event series at Berlin's silent green set in motion what would become their most twistedly funky release since „Penetrans“ on Staubgold in 2002.

The only thing öd about „Öd" (meaning „barren" or „boring“ in German) may well be its title: layers of improvised play and randomized loops convolve around porous, dubby groove locks, tugging at each other in a call-and-response with howling static that cuts through bulbous ambient techno into a scrap-metal Dixieland phantasm. Stratified yet spacious, these sonic double exposures always hover on the verge of collapsing. What you think you hear might not be what you actually hear.

The album’s track titles resemble Conceptual Poetry, extending this psycho-phenomenological gesture into the realm of spoken language. Conceived by renowned poet Dagmara Kraus, they become word molecules - „stern,” „dies,” „lose“ - tilting delicately between German and English, constantly changing depending on the ear’s perspective and pointing back to the deeply unstable fabric connecting meaning and sound. Which also makes „Öd“ an unusual cross-disciplinary collaboration - at least in the field of electronic music.

PS: Since its beginnings in Bad Säckingen, IFF has always been more than the sum of its rotating parts, moving tirelessly between multimedia art, theory, solo projects and collaborations. With IFF Expanded, the collective now opens its eight-doored apparatus, inviting artists working with CDJs or samplers to join - an ambitious live format that loosens its former purity law while carrying forward a long-standing curatorial practice. The same thread also runs into the related event series Acephalic Headspace.

Institut für Feinmotorik (*1997), artist-group originating from Black Forest working in various fields. In musical context known for transforming turntables into instruments by removing the records and instead applying rubber bands, paper scraps, household materials – resulting in a vivid laboratory for the productive misuse of everyday objects. This approach is documented in record releases and performed live.

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.

New full-length from MINIATURa, following Geometria Prohibida (Keroxen, 2020). Espectral was recorded inside the iconic Keroxen oil tank in Tenerife — a brutalist chamber whose metallic resonance seeps into every track.
Motorik tension, post-punk restraint, shoegaze and darkwave undertow surface and dissolve throughout, but this is no genre exercise. The album feels lived-in and physical: drums hanging in open air, guitars stretching into steel-lined decay, moments of synthetic clarity torn open by abrasion. Propulsion and erosion move side by side.
There’s a rawness here that isn’t aesthetic — it’s architectural. The tank becomes a silent collaborator, shaping space as much as sound.
Lyrically, Espectral unfolds through elliptical micro-poetry, tracing life, love, death and social fracture in fragments rather than declarations. Nothing is fixed; everything hovers.
One of the strongest independent statements to emerge from the Canary Islands in recent years, Espectral finds MINIATURa operating on its own frequency — austere, immersive, and built to linger.

A glorious night of no particular significance, Totally, the new album by Baba Stiltz. Recorded in Helsinki in studio with a drummer and overdubs committed in 5 days. Ballroom- sink songs of loss, grief, long drives on the I-5, centralized acquisitions, and corrective conditioning towards the prolonged effects of computerized lifestyles.

Every song looks you straight in the eyes, crooked and veering towards a light fixture off the side of the mirror. Ambivalence and assertions track us, down some gauzy networked afternoon. Relatively, perfectly, three dimensional. Proportions as they appear to us from outer intuition. Sometimes meaning is evoked through pure nothingness. Concealed and nothing known. We have no need for any paradise informed by anything beyond what is directly in front of us.

Stone repetition thwarts the possibility of control and surrenders itself to understanding. Who are we, and what are we trying to understand? To understand being universally greater than being understood. There are soap operas everywhere for those with eyes to see. You don’t have to look as hard as we currently look. The dramatic is everywhere, we breathe it unintentionally, then we come to hate it. Haptic, embodied facts of a tedious life lodged in the jowls of history. Everything under the
sky being the best bedlam has to offer. Your family, your relationships, your memory. As you eat a burger you are reminded of every sharp protrusion and corner under the florescent lights, the same lights you see when you’re born, and although unconfirmed, when you die.

Some of these songs were written years ago, some recently. The bookshelf and television set come into full view. Women/men come and go. Stars and poseurs collapse under their alienated contradictions, the search for truth yields to continued gradients of probability (collapse). Spatial order maintains itself through perceptional feeling. Silence, singing along to Roger Miller, people entering and leaving, figures hovering over you in your dreams and waking hours. Cool and fun, Totally

Text by Barrett Avner

In the seclusion of a house in the Bavarian Forest, something unfolded that felt less like a conventional album production and more like an internal process of condensation. This house wasn’t a studio - it was a retreat. Its 1960s-inspired interiors, creaking wooden stairs, and crackling fireplace shaped the sound of Carl Gari as much as the instruments themselves. Though the house no longer exists, its atmosphere remains present in the recordings.


The music of Carl Gari - Jonas Yamer, Till Funke, and Jonas Friedlich - resists easy categorization, a trait that continues on this monumental new album. From the friction between electronic music and guitar textures, the trio forges a distinctive, idiosyncratic sound. Distorted electric guitars and pulsating basslines intertwine with analog drum machines, tape delays, and intricate effect chains, creating music that is raw, organic, and psychedelic. A new element on the album is the trio’s first use of vocals: Jonas Yamer, usually on bass, raises his voice in a punk-tinged, invented language that hints rather than narrates, unsettling more than it explains.


The guest artists do not merely decorate the sound - they alter its very structure at critical points. Polygonia contributes layered vocals that mesh seamlessly with the album’s technoid architecture. Will Brooks of Dälek delivers a dark rap feature on ‘Poison Shyness (Anti-Social)’, his words carving the sonic space with precision. Coby Sey adds introspective vocals that hover between experimentation and restraint on ‘Inner Link’. New York rap pioneer Sensational introduces a deliberately rough, individual counterpoint on ‘Disco Lights’, while the German percussionist Simon Popp drives the album forward with an uncompromising drum performance that insists rather than accompanies on ‘Zeitesser’.


The cover photographs, taken by Jonas Yamer, project images of corridors onto paintings located in the now demolished house where the album was recorded. Visually, this reflects a key motif of the album: spaces exist only as overlays and echoes - not mystical ghosts, but traces of a place that has physically vanished.

Recorded between 2016-2024 in Neunburg vorm Wald and Munich. With kind support by Kulturreferat der Landeshauptstadt München.
Mixed by Johannes Wagner aka J.Manuel at Apollo Studio, Berlin (A1, D1 w/ Fadi Mohem). Mastered & cut by Stefan Betke at Scape Mastering.
Photography by Jonas Yamer. Packaging design by Sepehr Mokhtarzadeh.

Spanning Portland, Bristol, London and beyond, Cold Light has evolved from a friends-and-family label into something stranger but more cohesive. It's a collective spanning Best Available Technology, Birthmark, Withdrawn, the wind between, CSNL and Rael, plus a wider orbit including Elaine Malone and Tony Onuchukwu. What began as a 2019 tour experiment and crystallised during lockdown into the Live at the Laundromat sessions has now fully matured into a singular sound rather than a patchwork of ideas. Dub sits at the centre, most clearly on the sprawling 'Fields in B', but the group folds in haunted boom-bap, gritty noise-rock and ghostly trip-hop with equal confidence. 'Riot' and 'I've Known Fires' both hover in that murky, half-familiar space the collective has made its own.

The word classic is a much overused one, but in the case of this much in demand 1999 four tracker, it's no exaggeration. There has been much conjecture over the years over the identity of the producer - or producers - behind the mysterious Clint Foster name, but our lips are sealed, we ain't no grasses. All we will say if you like your techno seriously laced with acid, tough and sinewy but equally funky then then you'll love this. Opener 'Indium' is pinned down by machinefunk handclaps, a gloopy bassline and a synth line that coasts pretty majetsically. 'Patterns' is faster, harder and dubbier, not a million miles in its rhythmic shuffle from Carl Craig's 'My Machines', while 'Throughway' is the truly hypnotic one, big on the atmospheric scale. 'Afterdark' closes things, airy synths swelling and hovering over an addictively chunky beat. No names, no packdrill, just four essentially fantastic bits of classsy techno that haven't dated in all the years since. Essential.

Josh Ludlow - one half of MAKE A DANCE - one of London’s most beloved duos - steps out on his own for a rare solo outing on legendary London imprint Rhythm Section International.

A late contender for EP of the year - the record meanders menacingly across four tracks of mind-altering, dissociative Brain Music, precision engineered to transport a listener and hypnotise a crowd without losing any dancefloor impact.

Interestingly, Bradley Zero (RS label boss) and Mr. Ludlow have a connection dating back to the late 2000s, when they were both drummers in rock and roll bands...almost 20 years later - a shared love of experimental electronic music has brought them back together, resulting in this spellbinding EP.

Channelling a much darker, heads down, aggressive sound than the uplifting house M.A.D have become known for, the record begins with 'Brain Music’, which serves as a Detroit techno-inspired wormhole of a track, guiding us into a parallel, inner dimension.

Time Upside Down is next up and it becomes apparent we have entered another realm entirely. The introductory bars of the song feel like a long journey down a dark tunnel. The sound design and acoustic backdrop are so evocative you can almost see it. Obnoxious bass notes reverberate through the space created by the track, slowly giving way to flurries of high-pitched, resonant acid lines - the sum of which escape easy classification. It would be lazy to call it house music, misleading to call it techno - but it’s definitely not tech house. Elements of disco, electro, post-punk, balearic and Weatherall-esque chug are all in the mix but essentially, this is its own thing - this is Brain Music.

The record continues to the penultimate track “The Kettle”, which starts off in more familiar upbeat, bongo-house territory before the calm is betrayed by a hovering intensity which grows out of nowhere before making space for a humungous bass synth melody - so big in fact that it has never once failed to elicit club-wide bass-face; which for a mid-tempo track is no mean feat. We round things off with ‘Mean Mother’, the most playful of the bunch: a Chicago house-indebted workout reminiscent of Paranoid London at their most visceral. The track feels familiar and almost safe until the synth-work is cranked up to 11, creating a cacophonous SH-101 build-up into a disco-esque drop that would get even the most reluctant raver jumping up and down for more.

Besides all the theatrics and acoustic world building, the evocative sound design and the insatiable, no-nonsense grooves - the thing that makes these tracks stand out is the attention to detail. No two fills are alike, every embellishment is EQ’d and polished to perfection - yet no immediacy is lost. The tracks feel alive, intentional and constantly evolving. Hyperbole aside - we have a serious, generational talent on our hands whose mastery of the equipment, understanding of the dynamics of the dance and unabashed
playfulness is being harnessed into something that stands out head and shoulders above the crowd.

Al Wahem (“The Illusion”) is the new full-length release by PRAED, the Swiss–Lebanese duo of Raed Yassin and Paed Conca. Recorded between Beirut and Berlin, the album returns to the group’s central aesthetic: a rhythm-driven weave of Egyptian shaabi, electronics, improvisation and the gritty pulse of street-level sound. Nearly twenty years into the project, PRAED have distilled their approach into four pieces that subtly shift the listener’s bearings, reordering grooves and fragments until familiar elements take on new identities.
The twenty-minute title track sets the tone. A tightly interlocking two-drum foundation from Pascal Semerdjian and Ayman Zebdawi shapes a structure that expands steadily: synth figures branch outward, clarinet and bass lines act as internal guideposts, and brief vocal calls from Yassin and guest singer Mayssa Jallad sit inside the texture rather than leading it. PRAED’s shaabi keyboard language is present, but the duo stretch it outward, building tension and movement through patient accumulation.

“Al Hathayan,” at 4:46, tightens the focus. Conca’s clarinet moves between melodic arcs and clipped rhythmic gestures, threading through electronic loops that surface and disappear. Zebdawi’s percussion adds a raw, tactile quality, placing acoustic patterns and electronics in direct conversation. The piece acts as a bridge between the album’s two long-form compositions.
Side B begins with “Al Maraya,” a thirteen-minute piece that relies on electronic, bass and clarinet interplay. The atmosphere nods to the breadth of PRAED Orchestra!, but remains anchored in the duo’s rhythmic foundations. Rather than building mass, the layering creates a sense of depth, as if new spaces were opening inside the groove.
The album closes with “Assarab,” featuring keyboardist Amr Said. Semerdjian and Zebdawi again form a dual percussive axis, while synths hover between melody and pulse, and themes recur in widening circles rather than building vertically. The porous boundary between electronic and acoustic sources — processed clarinet mistaken for a sequencer, rhythmic figures springing from live drums — is where the album’s theme of “illusion” shows itself most clearly.

Al Wahem follows a long arc: early releases on Annihaya, a key appearance on Ruptured Sessions Vol. 5 – Live at Radio Lebanon (2013), later albums on Akuphone, and the large-scale PRAED Orchestra! documented on Morphine Records. This new Ruptured/Annihaya co-release brings the duo back to a concentrated format, reorganizing their familiar materials with renewed clarity and intent.

Bringing mutant verve and a deadly swing to the bassweight discipline, Lyeform lands on Sneaker Social Club in resonantly rude form. Strong doses of UKG, wormhole techno and dubstep course through the veins of this muscular four-deep drop, but the London-based producer's metabolism strips the strands down to an atomic level and rebuilds the dance in his own design.

There's a dense and dank mood hovering over 'Drift Into Dread,' shaped out by rugged, noisy percussion steering towards mind-melting immersion. Rather than resting in technoid repetition, the landscape keeps shifting as dislocated rhythmic phrases slide in and out of earshot, led by the disembodied toasting of a mysterious MC.

'Vintage Gilly' has a much starker sound palette, all crackling drums sparking static interference into negative space with subs so low you might mistake them for heart murmurs. All the better to savour the subtleties as they tease into the mix, not least the understated lead lines loping lazily on the threshold.

The 2-step swagger is unmistakable on 'Godkiller' as it comes bowling into earshot, but there's not a whiff of garage revivalism in earshot as we channel hop between metallic feedback interference and needlepoint noise snaking around the minimalist framework of the beat.

'Glass Eater' closes the record out on another skippy stepper, but here Lyeform makes room for cavernous dub techno chords, overdriven bass harmonics and teeth-grinding noise. It's a final maverick swerve from an artist carving out a formidable impression via micro-level textural exploration within the context of dark and deadly soundsystem tackle.

A quiet intensity permeates Chantal Michelle’s music, like a veiled flame. Even at its most spare and delicate, an undulating tension unsettles the ear through wavering microtonal interference and uncanny spatial juxtaposition. She takes seriously the mandate of the composer to foster new relationships between various types of sounds, bringing together disparate field recordings, instrumental stems, and the sounds of circuitry in unheard configurations. Resolution is elusive, in its place a sense of oblong cyclicality and prickly uncertainty. When the veil is pulled back, we find more depth, more complexity, and more mystery.

Unit of Heart, Michelle’s second album of 2026, presents two interrelated pieces that highlight diverging compositional modes. Here she brings in two key collaborators: Patrick Shiroishi, who contributes flutes and saxophones throughout, and poet Funto Omojola, whose words and voice bookend the title composition. Both compositions unfold gradually, but where the album’s a-side “Sudden Oceans” presents a minimal tonal palette focused entirely on the subtle grain of wind instruments, “Unit of Heart” proceeds linearly, moving through passages of synthesizer, environmental recordings, and full-cheeked wails of saxophone. Both encourage a state of focused listening as the scope of the music deepens and widens.

“Sudden Oceans” allows the listener to hover in rippling currents of air, breath overlapping breath in a shimmering patchwork. All flutes and saxophones on the piece are played by Shiroishi, which are molded by Michelle into a pattern that resembles the flow of tidal waters, surging and receding moment to moment as the tonal density increases. Expansive and recursive, it reflects both the restorative awe and eerie disquiet of encountering the sublime. The first and last sounds we hear are the gentle rush of unmediated breath as Shiroishi connects and disconnects from his flute.

Michelle’s skill at presenting the familiar as preternatural comes to the fore on “Unit of Heart, ” one of her most ambitious works. Omojola’s voice begins with a melody that could be a lullaby, but as it’s bounced around the stereo field it takes on a haunted quality. Their poem, reprinted on the LP’s inner sleeve, hints at a similar type of transformation: “I mean this is where our mouth turns saliva into spears only a throat can recognize. ” Pads of downy synthesizer billow and are subsumed by a discordant ringing. The climactic section features atonal electronics and field recordings, first of water and then the evening call of insects, processed in such a way to transform them into pulsating bursts of noise. What we think we know about the world, what is elemental, can change with even the slightest adjustment of the lens.

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.

A long-time figure at the heart of Samurai Music, Last Life makes his first appearance on SAIBAI trading his signature snarl for shadowy psychedelia and snaking beatdowns. Since 2015 Mauro Picciau has been cultivating a sound that maximises on the space that opens up around half-time 170, finding plenty of power while stretching out his rhythms. On this new release he pivots towards subtler tones and textures, and plugs directly into the wave of innovative artistry occurring at the intersection of D&B and deep techno. Writhing, taut sound design spells out the mood on opening track 'Gear Cutter', as Picciau gets expressive with metallic feedback tones that elegantly contort across the front of the mix. There's a strong sense of narrative that brings the track's dynamic movement to the fore, holding back energetic shifts with a measured intent to ramp up the tension. 'Norma' has a more ceremonial feel, locking into a steady pulse and letting distant clouds of melodic ambience create a bewitching atmosphere around the percussive mantras. 'Radian' speaks its own minimalist, techno-spirited language, drawing on alien murmurs and steely drones to strike a lighter note without breaking the mysterious fog that hovers over the EP. 'The Moat' leads on a heavier set of drums to close the record out, shaping space with skilful reverb and a tightly controlled synth pulse. Within this echo chamber, and across the whole release, Picciau has capitalised on this patient approach to bed infinitesimal ripples into the mix, rewarding the active listener and instilling his creations with a kinetic vitality that can always be felt, no matter how slight the sound is.

2026 Repress

Moving Pressure 03 lands as Rene Wise's third release on his imprint. With a refined approach to rhythm and restraint, the artist once again distills techno to its purest form: hypnotic, percussive, and propulsive. Across four tracks and in line with the label's essence, MP03 thrives on movement-low-end mastery meets tightly coiled grooves, while textural elements shift and evolve with subtle precision.
A1 'Relax' sets the foundation with a mighty sub-base, rolling forward with effortless force. Chopped-up claps ricochet through the mix, while a funky, disembodied vocal repeats a single command: "relax". Then comes 'Chomp Chomp', a denser offering in Wise's sensorial arsenal. Layered with gritty textures, his signature percussion builds a soundscape that is both tactile and weightless, evoking a kinetic dream state where groove and space are in constant conversation. On the flip, 'Cave' plunges into murkier terrain. Swathed in fog and sinister atmospherics, it unfolds through an eerie blend of sci-fi surrealism and grounded physicality. Bleeps hover like distant signals, their sharpness softened by a cavernous, smothering embrace. It's a study in tension-hypnotic and unsettling in equal measure. Closing the release is 'Deep Under', a track that embodies its name with subterranean mystique. The soundscape is rich with detail, an ecosystem of sonic fragments shifting beneath the surface. It's immersive yet elusive, like catching glimpses of something just out of reach-a mirage that flickers between the tangible and the ethereal.
This is minimalism with intent, built for deep immersion. Less, here, is infinitely more.

US outfit Garth only left behind a small trail of records, but this obscure 1980 7" still carries the peculiar charm of disco's stranger back rooms. Recorded between New York and Los Angeles across the late 70s, 'Special Part Of My Life' opens in warm, soulful territory through Henrietta Pam Garth's soft vocal glide, before J. Albert Garth gradually enters the frame and pushes the track somewhere more feverish and floor-facing. There's a lovely looseness to it all: the groove is slightly frayed at the edges in that very particular pre-digital way. On the flip, 'The Groove' heads somewhere far murkier, featuring wiggling synth effects and huge hovering atmospherics drifting over the top of the beat that gives the whole thing this faintly eerie quality which, honestly, makes it all the better.

Luke Wyatt created Sladazj as a place for beat-driven cinematic downshift. These were darker doorways than Torn Hawk could step through. Beyond the arches were Sladazj’s favorite landscapes. We’re talking hovercrafts buzzing over dark marshes as Zartan the bad guy from GI Joe changes faces and plays cards with the guy who swings the cinder block on the axe handle. Cinders and ashes, axes and unbelievers. “Second Device” is the second real long-form proving ground for these moves, the second ash pit. Sladazj is the prince of the pit.

In 2023, Kraków-based composer Martyna Basta and Los Angeles-based sound artist claire rousay were invited to Poland by Unsound for a short residency, where they spent a few days trading ideas and concepts, and brainstorming their first collaboration. Initially motivated to create lengthy, expansive pieces together, they also ended up experimenting with shorter vignettes, and ‘hotel room’ expresses these two extremes, featuring three long-form tracks and three brief, euphoric songs. “It wasn’t something we specifically planned,” explains Basta. “It just unfolded that way.” The most important stage of the process, however, was the period that followed the residency, when rousay and Basta began working on their sketches in isolation, trading drafts and sculpting the sounds independently before rousay handled the final mixdown. In the comfort of their own bedrooms, they were better able to reflect their individual creative routines, organically reaching a junction where their music felt truly unified. Even while they were in Poland, the duo joked that it might have been easier if they’d been holed up in separate rooms emailing each other.

Both artists have had an energetic few years: after steadily building a reputation for her diaristic and candid concrète experiments, rousay signed to Thrill Jockey in 2023, releasing the acclaimed ‘sentiment’, ‘a little death’ and the more eaze collaboration ‘no floor’; Basta, meanwhile, followed up 2023’s hallucinatory ‘Slowly Forgetting, Barely Remembering’ and her debut for Belgium’s Stroom imprint, ‘Diaries Beneath Fragile Glass’ with a studio album on !K7’s 7K sublabel: ‘Winged in Collapse’. The title of their collaboration reflects rousay and Basta’s hectic touring schedules in the wake of these releases, the constant feeling of displacement and the emotions that emerge when the environment is in flux. “I know we aren’t the only musicians traveling and creating work at the same time,” says rousay, “but being able to speak about that experience and all the things that come with it was comforting.” And the music itself, assembled from hypnagogic field recordings, spectral voices, electronics and filtered instrumental improvisations, sounds bewitchingly unmoored, not tied to a specific location but hovering around the uncanny space in-between.

Scratchy ASMR sounds introduce us to the opening track ‘zoom’, initially obscuring the duo’s elegiac harmonies. They are careful to let the various elements evolve at their own pace, with the fictile guitar drones melting into the foreground while Basta’s dissociated whispers and rousay’s illusory synths pick out the subtlest subliminal shades. It all builds to the piece’s dramatic third act, when layered chords ring out like organ blasts, enveloping the negative space. The shorter, more anxiety-provoking ‘denim’ is remarkably divergent, a dismantled folk memory pieced together from skeletal piano notes, vaporous choral echoes, haunting string plucks and pulsating feedback. Where the music aligns is in the mood itself, capturing a feeling that’s neither completely abstract nor fully referential. Not ambient exactly, ‘hotel room’ is a suite of soundscapes that gesture towards structure while repeatedly folding in on themselves.

On ‘Lost and Found’, wordless Autotuned ad-libs spiral around delicate guitar plucks and washing waves, coalescing into a faded Polaroid of opiated Americana, and on ‘Where Are You Now’, operatic squeals and corroded orchestral scrapes are juxtaposed with nauseous low-end tones. Evaporating until only industrial whirrs and music box chimes remain, the latter encapsulates the entire album’s chilling liminality, smudging saturated voices with casual electro-acoustic interjections before it erupts abruptly, transforming into a dense, pitch-skewed hymn. ‘hotel room’ plays like a surreal travelogue, teasing listeners with airy familiarities as it humidifies dry, awkward spaces. More a labyrinth of catacombs than a single, fixed chamber, it’s Escher-like – cryptic and seductive – and decked out with personal asides and intimate details that reward the most patient, curious listeners.

Planet Lonely's first outing comes in the form of Motion Studies, four cuts from label founder Gili.

PLR001 touches on different shades of electronic music while keeping one foot elsewhere.

Four cuts. One record. No manifesto.

Justin K Broadrick (GODFLESH) and Mick Harris (Napalm Death) drop militant, hard techno on split LP.

New album doubles the track count (and runtime) of the duo's last collab.

Stalwart Birmingham, UK innovators Justin K Broadrick and Mick Harris have connected again as JK FLESH and MONRELLA to deliver the warehouse-destroying hard techno LP SHOUTING THE ODDS, five years after their last EP, SEE RED.

Featuring four tracks from each artist, SHOUTING THE ODDS invokes both the feeling of listening to late night pirate radio and sweating in a darkened warehouse as the rafters shake, complete with the perfect amount of analog wow and flutter. Brimming with gnarled, unrelenting kicks hovering between 130–140bpm, the split format deftly showcases both artist's individual strengths, while displaying undeniable commonality.

Broadrick's side leans traditional hard techno, filled with mesmerizing, minimal synth arpeggios and contrasting toplines, all aligned and maligned by shrewd transitions. Harris' section presents more experimental and house influences, using bright, distorted synth hits and a touch of forlorn melody. The tracks take on a life of their own through expert use of filters and just the right amount of delay, stutter, and glitch.

Never before has an album filled with such shining, shimmering synths been so black and threatening. JK FLESH and MONRELLA have hard techno down to a science.

“No-nonsense old school flavoured techno bangers. We're flying the flag for outsider techno." - Justin K Broadrick

Phara returns with a second project under his In Glass alias. In 'Scratching the Surface', we're light years away from the heavier, more instructive dance records that have become synonymous with Phara's style. In this EP, the Belgian artist reaffirms his celestial, delicate sound in four tracks that delve further deeper into the emotional soundscape proposed in the first EP.

'Sally' begins the project with the most dance floor oriented of the four tracks, proposing an intoxicating blend of styles that bloom throughout its six minutes. Soft pads and bright keys twinkle along a cradling rhythm as In Glass delivers a truly musical piece that sifts through memories. Percussion is then taken out of the equation as 'All Things (424 Version)' comes and lands softly on the center stage. Lush, ambient waves come lapping at the shore of 'Scratching the Surface', describing nothing but space and serenity - a breath from everything. The dreamy tone of 'All Things' oscillates along reassuringly into the B side, keeping the tempo low and the sound design organic. Here, we step into In Glass's world of dub techno and adjacent sounds that defined his first record last year. 'Plateau' rises slowly from the wax with a round low end and suspended chords that hover high above. Opening stabs over a harmonic bassline make a head massage of a track that sways along. The raw emotion behind In Glass's music is inviting, flashing by as ethereal synths open and close to install a personal, meditative experience of electronic music. The percussion remains discrete, allowing the harmonic information to wash over the listener into the last track of the EP. He concludes with 'My Idle Hands', pressing further into the dub techno sound that echoes through a cathedral of memories. Blurry shapes pass by over a more determined rhythm section, confirming the intimate nature of In Glass's music. The music wanders along, its head in the clouds but with a full heart, telling stories of being lost and finding home.

Cold Union emerge with “Lost In Black”, a coldwave signal suspended between haze and motion. An early glimpse of their upcoming album, where restraint becomes atmosphere and every element is reduced to its essential form. Icy guitars drift over deep, driving basslines, while distant, delayed vocals hover in slow, almost spectral, hypnotic atmosphere. There’s a clear understanding of the genre’s lineage here—echoes of classic post-punk codes reinterpreted with patience and intent. Minimal, precise, and emotionally distant, Lost In Black channels the core of post-punk into something colder, sharper, and built for the finest late hours goth parties.

LP,180g, 2027 REISSUE - REMASTERED FROM ORIGINAL TAPES, CAREFULLY REPRODUCED ORIGINAL ART

The 'vivid contemporary sounds for a fresh visual image' make up the now canonised Synthesis from Alan Hawkshaw and Brian Bennett. These two greats go deeper than usual on this collection, and the end result is a synth concept record of sorts. Released in 1974, it's an essential companion piece to
their Synthesizer and Percussion LP, released on Themes International Music in the same year.
Like most of our favourite library records, Synthesis has that gloriously funky, 'weird electronic music' vibe without ever being inaccessible. With the awesome ARP Odyssey at the fore, Hawkshaw and Bennett have created a blissed-out soundscape that, whilst laid back in all the right places, somehow remains heavy on the funk. It's a sort of throbbing, proto-G Funk sound and you can fnd it on many of these low-lit basement workouts.
Take the ice-cool 'Alto Glide'. It's a sunset-funk highlight with an electro-fute refrain that conjures those dreamier Dre / DJ Quick instrumentals from '91 to '92.
Stereolab, Koushik (again) and all those Ghost Box artists were clearly listening very closely in the years since. The equally relaxed 'Mermaid' glides efortlessly with soft, shimmering piano, understated percussion and kaleidoscopic synths.
It's a really beautiful piece.With these two soft-focus closing tracks allowing the LP to foat away over the horizon, the preceding ten tracks have a more insistent, neck-snapping rhythm
section to back the synth overload. Highlights include the head-nod funk of 'Getting It Together' and the synth break in 'The Executive', which informed classic video game soundtracks.
For once Be With really is stuck for words to describe just how good this record is.
Best just to listen. As with all ten re-issues, the audio for Synthesis comes from the original analogue tapes and has been remastered for vinyl by Be With regular Simon Francis. We've taken the same care with the sleeves, handing the reproduction duties over to Richard Robinson, the current custodian of KPM's brand identity.

From Wisdom Teeth’s recent compilation nagoyaka na kaze / 和やかな風 (quiet wind)—which cast a spotlight on the Japanese city of Nagoya—emerges “2++”, a new label launched by abentis, who curated the compilation alongside Facta and K-LONE as a central figure in the scene. Conceived as a series introducing facets of Nagoya’s underground electronic music to the world on vinyl, its inaugural release is abentis’ debut album, Dim Grow.

Across the album, intricately designed electronic mallet sounds—created using Ableton Live’s physical-modeling synthesizer—take center stage. Fresh and percussive like marimba or kalimba, yet simultaneously carrying an otherworldly, unreal quality, these tones form the core of the record’s sonic identity. In moments of near-silence, a crystalline resonance poised between glass and metal shimmers with subtle shifts in temperature, giving the album its distinctive texture.

While resonating with the sonic sensibilities of fellow Wisdom Teeth affiliates such as K-LONE, Tristan Arp, and Salamanda, abentis’ uniquely strange palette can be traced back to one of his strongest influences: Haruomi Hosono. In particular, Hosono’s mid-’70s tropical-infused solo albums — Tropical Dandy (1975), Bon Voyage Co. (1976), and Paraiso (1978) — serve as a key reference point. Symbolically reflected in Hosono’s marimba and vocal performance at a 1976 live show in Yokohama Chinatown, the marimba functioned as a central instrument for constructing imagined exotic landscapes inspired by Martin Denny and Hawaiian music.

For abentis—who worked at a local jazz bar before becoming active as a hip-hop beatmaker—the language of “tension chords,” a harmonic vocabulary rooted in jazz and R&B that hovers ambiguously between brightness and darkness, forms a consistent grammar throughout Dim Grow.

Behind the album’s core theme of “mallets + tension chords” lies a broad musical lineage: the harmonic sensibility of Claude Debussy, who anticipated the tensions of jazz; the proto-minimalist spirit of Erik Satie; the marimba-centered structures of Steve Reich; their continuation in Japan through Mkwaju Ensemble (with Midori Takada and production by Joe Hisaishi); and the subsequent branches into post-rock, electronica, and ambient music.

Growing up in Nagoya—an industrial city where creative independence is deeply valued—and being rooted in punk and hip-hop counterculture scenes naturally fostered abentis’ affinity with these predecessors. His practice between genres, combined with an encounter with the highly cross-pollinated musical perspective cultivated around Wisdom Teeth, provided the framework through which his own musical language crystallized. Dim Grow stands as the natural culmination of that journey.

May 2026 marks the arrival of TYGAPAW (aka Dion McKenzie)’s first full-length album on Tresor Records, entitled Together You Gather All Power Applied Worldwide. An acronym of its creator’s name, TYGAPAW’s third studio album is a deeply personal collection of music building worlds where Black queer and trans siblings can thrive, while unifying dancefloors worldwide. A proposition that collective wisdom liberates us from the matrix of domination we live within. The album unfolds as the latest chapter in TYGAPAW’s ongoing techno opera opus, continuing to center the voices of Black women, which surface as layered incantations rather than lyrics - powerful, haunting, sensual, activating.
With the process of creating the album starting in 2023, as TYGAPAW (Dion McKenzie) was in the first year of their transition, the music reflects the intensity of that period, where they were experiencing deplatforming as a response to the shift in their physical appearance: Tracks like ‘M32 Riddim’ and ‘Helicopter hovers over my Crown Heights Apartment’ feature high-paced rhythms intersecting with intense siren-like synths to form demanding compositions echoing a heightened sense of alert. Yet throughout the album, relief comes in the form of TYGAPAW’s vocal features, co-conspirators, and chosen family, whose voices are treated with reverb and echo, a sonic fingerprint that leads back to the pioneers in the legendary studios of TYGAPAW’s native land, Jamaica, an important reminder that the past will always inform the future. It is an album for dancers first and foremost, where joy, defiance, and integration with the natural body coexist, and every drop feels less like a climax than a transformation. Expect a bass that permeates your soul and melodic synthesized sequenced phrases echoing the dancehall eras of TYGAPAW’s youth, reshaped into hypnotic melodies that glow over industrial kicks designed to command attention, reasserting Jamaica's pioneering yet often overlooked contribution to electronic music.
In the opening track, ‘Can I Live’, Precious Okoyomon’s words feel like the beginning of a ritual; setting the intentions for the rest of the proceedings. As McKenzie puts it, their “work is about regeneration, resetting, getting integrated into nature, and about rebirth. That’s the tone I wanted to set at the outset of the album.” Ms Carrie Stacks continues this thread of support in ‘Don’t Panic’ with heavily processed vocals on top of a beat that takes inspiration from another important ingredient in the antidote to the oppression of isolation: Ballroom culture. “ I feel like I found my queerness in Ballroom, that’s why this track is very important to me.”
Echoes of NYC Black queer nightlife scene also permeate in the energetic drums of ‘Exorcise the Language of Domination’, in which Julianna Huxtable’s spoken performance complements the various movements and tones of the music. “My producer brain thought this was the one that Juliana’s vocals would be best suited for. I hinted: ‘what do you think of this one?’ She just went into her notes and picked some passages to go with the first section of the track. From there, it was a year-long process of development. It required time and space for this thing to evolve, but I think it’s one of the most powerful tracks on the album.” London’s SUUTOO contributes the album’s only musical collaboration on ‘B2B’, a track that emerged from sessions in McKenzie’s New York studio where the real objective was to connect and have fun; a time out from the demands of life outside.
The album closes out with a double hit of emotion in the form of ‘Effects of Resistance and Black Trans Masculine Experience’. The former features South African scholar Khanyisile Mbongwa drawing connections that exist between Africa and the Black diaspora, whilst looking to the future and calling for a shared sense of community.
The latter piece, an instrumental version of the piece which featured on the IMMIGRANT E.P. of 2025 is a gentle and deeply affecting end to the record, a place of peace and acceptance. This end-of-cycle tone is mirrored in the sleeve photography, which also ties back to IMMIGRANT by finally revealing what was hidden: a portrait of the artist fully self-actualized; a step towards true inner liberation. TYGAPAW is sonically defiant across this album; bass frequencies feel tactile — less heard than inhabited — infectious lead synth melodies remain with you long after the track ends. An overall sound that leaves asserting an urgent need for connection. From Detroit to New York to Berlin to Jamaica, despite geographic distance, this album reminds us that we remain in solidarity, recognising that meaningful world-building requires collective input and action, both personal and communal, if we are to move toward liberation.

Named after the Latin word for the humble house spider, Oonops started his career as a club DJ in the early 2000s and has been collecting and playing strictly vinyl ever since.

In 2013, he started his own radio show » Oonops Drops«, a monthly mixtape-style show featuring a host of international top DJs, broadcast on Brooklyn Radio in New York City. This show inspired the first volume of this compilation, which was released in early 2018 on Agogo Records, alongside the album and 7-inch releases featuring artists from his radio network. Then, exactly five years ago, Oonops finally founded his own sustainable music label bearing the eponymous name. Now, just in time for the 200th episode of his Brooklyn Radio show, Oonops returns to Agogo Records with Vol. 3, which is packed with favourites and rare gems discovered through his extensive community of like-minded collaborators. As you would expect, it includes many unreleased songs that were previously only available digitally or were incredibly difficult to obtain on vinyl – true rarities from the crates. Expect a broad selection of genres, ranging from Japanese jazz and head-nodding beats and hip hop to samba-esque funk, rare groove, reggae and Brazilian-influenced styles. Get ready, enjoy and rewind!

Regal delivers his first full EP on Backspin, marking a defining moment for the label he founded. More than just another release, the Forgotten Heroes EP captures the essence of Regal's vision: groovy, forward-moving techno that balances raw club energy with atmosphere, emotion and narrative.

The title track 'Forgotten Heroes' sets the EP in motion with a sense of controlled urgency. A rolling, slightly breaktinged groove pushes forward relentlessly, while an eerie, almost nostalgic synth melody hovers in the background, giving the track an emotional pull. 'Concentrate' shifts the focus inward_ bleeping motifs, tight claps and restless hihats circle around spoken fragments that feel like thoughts caught between the peak of the night and the quiet hours before sunrise.

On the B-side, 'Forte' accelerates into pure momentum: sharp, bleep-led sequences and forward pressure combine into a rush that feels like racing through the city at night. 'Soft Killer' deepens the mood with a darker, dominant edge, its stripped back power and razor-sharp sounds cutting clean through the mix. Closing track 'Wild Magic' offers a final release of tension, slowing the pace into a lighter, more house-leaning groove. Warm pads and a catchy, uplifting melody bring a sense of air and openness, letting the EP drift out on a hopeful, almost euphoric note.

Regal's comeback EP 'Forgotten Heroes' stands as a personal statement and a cornerstone release for Backspin. It's techno built on groove, contrast and character, made to leave a lasting impression on the dancefloor.

Punctuality presents its ninth release, Night Time, a potent four-tracker from Irish born, Berlin based producer New Members. Positioned on the spriitzzier end of the label’s canon, the record is a refined exercise in restraint, channeling classic, deep leaning house through a starry eyed, nocturnal lens.

The arrangements are unrushed and uncrowded, with each track built from a small selection of elements deployed for maximum impact. Evoking the deep cuts of early Balance and Global Underground mixes, the EP deftly weaves golden era progressive influences with neoteric production aesthetics. The result is polished, punctual tech house for late nights that stretch seamlessly into the morning light.

Title track Night Time carries a closing track sensibility: cute, catchy vocals glide over bubbling synths, blossoming pad washes, and jazzy chord stabs, recalling the finest Canadian Riviera house releases of the late 2010s: Total eyes closed on the dancefloor energy. Whisper In the Dark comes in trackier and toolier, with a rolling bassline resplendent with attitude and key changes, while trance and euro referencing stabs add a subtle touch of euphoria to the late night feel of the track.

Wishing Well maintains the afterhours feel with subtle atmospherics, gentle pads, and dubbed out acid wiggles, while chopped vocals and a pulsing low end push the groove forward. Hovering between genres, the result is a sleek, highly playable track for savvy selectors. The EP rounds off with Jealousy, a moodier affair with a dub techno feel that maintains the restraint New Members demonstrates throughout the release. Echoed whispers, delayed stabs, and a barely audible sub meld with delicate pad work and beguiling FX to striking effect. The piece as a whole is a luscious meditation on the hours after dark before light arrives.

As the EP suggests, this is once again not to be slept on. More A grade material from Punctuality HQ.

Laputa, a title taken from the fantastical floating island of Gulliver's Travels is aptly named as 'The album that never landed' for, apart from a limited touchdown in Japan, Laputa was never released. This mystical world is a summation of Yokota's journey so far, a complex and at times challenging work but immeasurably rewarding. Beguiling and bewitching in equal measure.

Over fifteen undulating sonic fugue states, he guides listeners round a liminal world, made up of familiar materials but formed in a way defying all laws of perspective and physics. Background murmurings give way to almost uncomfortably foregrounded chattering, and one perceived soundstage segues into another impossible tableau of sonic apparitions, some recognisable in form, but all boldly decontextualised and arranged in expertly cluttered amalgams.

Laputa's obscurity was a prime reason Lo Recordings decided on the Skintone retrospective. Falling as it did between The Boy and the Tree on The Leaf Label and our own debut of Symbol. It was something of an audio crime that the album had never been properly explored and discovered. Lo Recordings hope Laputa can now ascend to its rightful place... hovering above us.

High Cube is the beat-focused brainchild of Brian Foote (Peak Oil, Leech) and Paul Dickow (Strategy, Community Library), two low-key legends of the American experimental underground. After some 30-odd years of making music separately and together, Foote and Dickow are collaborating in earnest for the first time as a duo. For this debut, the pair enforced a simple, stringent set of rules: five instruments, a one-hour timer, and a total ban on overthinking.

The result is a record that is the sound of two old friends unplugging the usual levers and letting the "accident" of their chemistry take the wheel. It is drier, sparser, and decidedly "chunky"—a fictional band stepping into a suit to drive around for a while. It is neither dance nor chill-out, but a moody, complex trajectory defined not by the gear used to make it, but by the narrative mood it compels.

"Volcano Snail” starts things off in a disheveled shuffle, locking into gear with blurred and bubbling effluence. The shimmering dimness is lit low, with a woozy gait that recalls the headiest highs and luminescent lows of Jan Jelinek. “Underwater Welder” is a foggy, neon-lit cruise of skittering low-ends suspended in a permanent fall of color, while “A Dragon’s Treasure is its Soul” offers blown-apart, low-end city pop fragmented into an array of rhythmic detritus. Chordal textures hover in the air as a percussive loop takes its beguiling and frolicking shape.

B-side opener “Yonaguni” shapeshifts in real time, drifting with the grace of a glacier before bobbing in a frigid pool of vibrating clatter, static, and synth stabs. “Ofid+wor” offers a tried and true blitz of braindance, nodding to an endless list of 20th and 21st-century electronic body music. Buoyant closer “Mother of Thousands” holds a gravity-defying tenderness, pirouetting on a breeze with the elegance of effervescent longing. Woven together, the six extended tracks of High Cube are tethered to nothing but the ether—a giant sonic leap of peripheral absurdity from two artists with a lifetime of shared rhythm.

Mean Field Mutation is a thermodynamic phenomenon occurring just below the vaporization point of voracious growth. It relies on the debris of false and almost forgotten narratives. Astral residue of consumer angst, echoes of obsolete newspeak and oscillations of promotional imbecilities collide with free floating particles hovering under the radar of the megamachine. In steady intervals, this results in a meltdown producing random waves of reconfigurations driven by cryptic but sanguine naivety.
Released on Lustpoderosa, Mean Field Mutation is the first musical output by Des Coda. Written and produced by Piero Scherer during the pandemic winter of 2021 in his bedroom studio in Zurich. Moving between playful
serenity and feral distortion, it was produced by layering sounds from field recordings, radio and TV clips, as wellas sequences from drum machines and analogue synthesizers. Taking a stance against commercial copyright, all stems of this production are available for download free of charge and ready to be reappropriated.
Des Coda is an open field for collaborative, cultural experiments beyond the conventional understanding of authorship and representation. It engages with an artistic position that defines the creative process as an interplay between context and concept. The resulting work is not a rigid product of authoritarian ingenuity, but a sensitive, living organism guided by the tensions between society and individual. Des Coda is the zestful curiosity rummaging through the rubble of the present in search of future aesthetics.

Born Bad Records knew exactly what it was doing when it signed this Nantes-based trio, whose sharply defined sound and raw authenticity stand out. With Rage Blossom, Île de Garde unveils an EP charged with palpable tension, somewhere between dark pop and psycho-wave. A catalogue of modern misdeeds, a David Lynch-like backdrop where Sylvia Plath’s poetry might cross paths with the controlled excesses of Fever Ray.



The EP opens with “Fear The Sun,” its Mike Oldfield-esque soundscapes plunging us into an apocalyptic and unsettling world. “Homicide Volontaire” follows with meticulous narration, a technical exercise evoking the anger and defiant lucidity of a Virginie Despentes. The hallucinatory hit “To Death” snaps like an anthem to collective dancing in the face of the inevitable. Since we’re going to die, let’s dance! On the B-side, “Ageless Woman” weaves together a half-mythological, half-mysterious text, carried by haunting backing vocals. “Birthday Girl,” featuring Kuntessa, radiates an ironic and joyful riot-grrrl energy, an uninhibited celebration of women’s liberation. Finally, “Boy,” a small post-punk jewel, closes the EP with an ending as surprising as it is delicate.

The group’s genius also lies in the complementarity of its musicians. Morgane Poulain anchors the drums with a dynamic that is both subtle and narrative, airy yet jagged. Cécile Aurégan, the architect behind a multitude of synths, builds powerful sonic landscapes, layer upon layer. Klara Coudrais, the band’s poetic figurehead, elevates her texts with a rich and plural vocal palette, giving life to several characters who vibrate with intensity. The band’s writing, hovering between darkness and light, echoes a kind of visceral poetry, exploring the seasons of the soul with authenticity and force.



With this EP, Île de Garde establishes itself as a band to watch closely, capable of translating on stage both the raw energy and the fine craftsmanship that define their music. An immersive journey, full of tension, urgency, beauty, and electric flashes.



Île de Garde, a Nantes-based trio with sharply drawn sonic contours and raw authenticity, unleashes its full arsenal on Rage Blossom, an EP radiating palpable tension between dark pop and psycho-wave. A catalogue of modern misdeeds, a David Lynch-like setting where Sylvia Plath’s poetry would meet the controlled excesses of Fever Ray. An immersive journey of tension, urgency, beauty, and electric sparks.

Opening track “Fear The Sun” plunges us into an apocalyptic and unsettling landscape. “Homicide Volontaire” continues with meticulous storytelling, a crime vignette evoking anger and the fierce lucidity summoned by a situation with no way out. The hallucinatory trance of “To Death” snaps like an anthem to collective dance in the face of the inevitable. Since we are going to die, let’s dance! “Ageless Woman” blends a half-mythological, half-mysterious text, carried by hypnotic backing vocals. “Birthday Girl,” featuring Kuntessa, releases an ironic and joyful riot-grrrl spirit, an uninhibited celebration of feminine liberation. Finally, “Boy,” a small post-punk case study, closes the EP with a simple, sensitive truth.



The three musicians propel and relay one another in this breathless race. Morgane Poulain drives the drums with a dynamic that is both subtle and narrative, airy yet staccato. Cécile Aurégan, architect of multiple synths, builds powerful sonic landscapes, layer after layer. Klara Coudrais, the storyteller, elevates her texts with a rich and multifaceted vocal palette, giving life to all their characters, both mythical and ordinary. The band’s writing, between darkness and light, proclaims a visceral poetry, exploring the seasons of the soul with authenticity and strength.

Melbourne / Naarm strongholdButter Sessionsclock 15 years in the game with a trilogy of 12"s, sustaining their uncompromising streak of peak-form electronics. The family-style V/A binds friends, collaborators, former studio neighbours and DJ booth allies, capturing a label that exists as community as much as catalogue.



A new chapter in Butter Sessions' ongoing Japanese exchange sees Sapporo sound sculptor Kuniyukire-opening a 2015 tour collaboration with label heads Sleep D- a deep, spatial beatdown powered by dub pressure and percussive hypnosis. Shadow-lurking prodigy Mosam Howiesondrops in with his trademark scatterbrain techno, while Hasvat Informantlocks into joint-consciousness big-room radioactivity.


Opening the B-side, Fader Capfuses Balearic psy-ence with Mike Dunn-esque utilitarian jack, hovering somewhere between '80s memory and future vision. Tokyo's Mayurashkafollows with Survival Guide, big beat colliding with drug chug, before Albrecht La'Brooyreunite for a divine chill-out tent slowdown, magnifying sample detail with exacting flow. We're adrift until Sunju Hargunlights the beacon with スカイサーファ(Sky Surfer), Thailand's emissary of ritualistic minimal trance.


Whether taken alone or folded into the three-disc triptych, each instalment stands as a bag-ready constant, charged with Butter Sessions' curatorial finesse.