Cerca:image in air

There’s no direct English translation for the word “hiraeth”. In the Welsh language, it describes a form of longing for an intangible something, somewhere or someone that no longer exists. Sofie Birch and Antonina Nowacka draw on the concept to guide their second collaborative album, a suite of vulnerable, open-hearted improvisations and reflections that attempt to grasp an image of the past that’s chimeric, dissolving almost as soon as it materializes. The duo’s process follows the same distant beacon; unlike Languoria, their critically acclaimed debut, Hiraeth is, at heart, an acoustic record, informed by in-person improvisations with voices and string instruments that gesture to an era before computers, AI and DAWs. It’s just as lush, but Hiraeth is warmer and more muted than its predecessor.
Nowacka and Birch conceived the album in the wake of a slew of collaborative live concerts, spurred on by serendipitous improvisations and an interest in paring down their setup. Unsound arranged a retreat in Sokołowsko, an idyllic village nestled in the verdant hills of Southern Poland, close to the Czech border. Sokołowsko surrounds a large ruined sanatorium that’s rumored to have inspired Thomas Mann’s 1924 novel The Magic Mountain, and has long been a magnet for artists. The two took the opportunity to rethink their approach completely, arriving with just a guitar, a zither and a portable Nagra reel-to-reel machine. Recording directly to tape, they sketched out ideas with just their voices and instruments, reflecting their surroundings without being distracted or mediated by modern technology.
“We wanted to get away from screens as much as possible,” says Birch, “to bring to the world something vulnerable and honest. Without advance preparation, every day we went out into the open air, finding places to sit, during sunset or the midday sun. We discovered new tunings on our instruments, picked up a melody, and started the machine, playing over
and over till we got a take.” In the autumn, they met again in a Copenhagen studio, sparingly and carefully layering old synths and organs to add more depth without muddying the mix.
Both Nowacka and Birch sing throughout, their voices threading the acoustic instruments and tangling with each other, almost becoming one. But it’s the environment of Sokołowsko, “the birds and the light, even the wind playing against the harps,” that’s woven into the music’s lining. Affected by time spent meditating and in nature, as well as the fact that Birch was pregnant whilst recording, the album feels alive and remarkably present. Even the sound quality of the tape machine gives Hiraeth a tactile, organic quality, as Nowacka puts it, “like being in a warm bath.”

They still have the raw recordings from Sokołowsko on old reels, physical souvenirs of their time spent making music in a “habitat for intuitive songs, a little ecosystem, alive and spirited.” The outmoded gear and remote setting helped the duo disengage from the modern world for a few moments and imagine an existence that’s been lost to time and nominal progress. With digital technology receding into the background, Nowacka and Birch had space to make “intuitive connections with frequencies and people,” as Birch explains. Hiraeth is a testament not to nostalgia, but to the power of kinship.

Oceanine, Jolanda Moletta’s third album and her first for Beacon Sound, is a powerful and ethereal statement of artistic community. Expanding on her previous work, each track represents a collaboration with a different female vocalist, with the foundational elements being generated entirely by her own voice. By turns haunting, enchanting, and inspiring, you won’t want to come up for air once you’ve been pulled under. Representing a
musical practice that is distinctly feminist, this is an album with a longer view in mind, to an age when the altars were to goddesses and women were centered as powerful beings representing the earth’s cycles of regeneration and renewal. Oceanine then, in all its beauty, can be viewed as an album of survival. It is deeply transportive, accessing something that lies within all of us. As the late, great Lithuanian folklorist and archaeologist Marija Gimbutas noted, “We must refocus our collective memory. The necessity for this has never been greater as we discover that the path of 'progress' is extinguishing the very conditions for life on earth.”

Jolanda Moletta is a multimedia artist and one-woman electronic choir. She creates wordless compositions through extended vocal techniques, integrating wearable-controlled live processing, alongside symbolic visuals. Moletta considers her performances to be a collective ritual and creates her Sonic & Visual Spells following the cycles of nature and the moon. Jolanda's 2022 critically acclaimed album Nine Spells was released on the Ambientologist label, followed by Night Caves on Whitelabrecs in 2025. Moletta’s artistic practice is a radical and spiritual journey through sound art, ritual, and the symbolic archaeology of the feminine.

Oceanine is inspired by sirens, water nymphs, and the timeless call of the sea. At its core lies Jolanda’s deep, lifelong connection to the Mediterranean Sea and to the ancient and modern myths and folklore that have emerged from its waters. Growing up by the Mar Ligure, Jolanda was surrounded by stories carried by salt, wind, and waves: legends of sirens, echoes of ancient voices, and the sea as both origin and oracle. This intimate relationship with the Mediterranean is not merely a backdrop, but a living source that shapes Oceanine’s emotional, symbolic, and sonic world.

Each track features a different female vocalist, creating a rich tapestry of voices, styles, and perspectives. This artistic choice not only broadens the album’s sonic palette, but also deepens its narrative core: celebrating the power, beauty, and mystique of feminine energy through myth, history, and sound.

The entire album is built exclusively from the human voice, processed and layered, yet always remaining voice, and nothing else. For each piece, Jolanda invited every vocalist involved to contribute a raw stem: a short, unedited melodic fragment of just a few seconds, inspired by the album’s themes. These intimate vocal seeds became the foundation of each track: the guest artists’ voices appear as brief, melodic stems, while the entire surrounding “orchestral” fabric is created solely from Jolanda’s own layered and processed voice. In this way, Jolanda’s voice becomes the Ocean itself, embracing, absorbing, and carrying the sirens’ calls within a vast, immersive soundscape. Every song is a unique expression of the feminine experience, revealing its depth, complexity, and emotional range, echoing the call of the sea and the many faces of the siren archetype.

The figure of the siren has transformed across centuries. In myths of Ancient Greece and Rome, sirens were hybrid beings, part woman, part bird, whose irresistible songs lured sailors to their doom. During the Middle Ages, the image shifted toward the half-woman, half-fish figure, often associated with temptation and danger. Historically, the voice of women has often been feared. Sirens were considered harbingers of misfortune not simply because they seduced or destroyed, but because they were powerful liminal beings.

In Ancient Greek, sirens functioned as psychopomps: figures who existed between worlds and guided souls, especially between life and death. Their songs were believed to carry forbidden knowledge, including prophetic insight and the ability to reveal truths about fate and the future. The danger of the sirens lay in what they revealed: knowledge that humans were not meant, or ready, to hear.

Oceanine confronts this legacy head-on. The voices heard throughout the album are not merely beautiful: they are dark and luminous, wild and enchanting, magical, soothing, dreamy, and at times fractured or distorted. They whisper, lament, beckon, and enchant. Like sirens, they skim the surface of the water and sink into its depths, hovering on the edge between tenderness and danger, vulnerability and power. They rise toward the sky, dissolve into mist, and return as echoes charged with raw, elemental emotion: voices that seduce, warn, mourn, and remember. They refuse to be reduced to decoration.

Alongside the album’s release in May, Oceanine will also unfold as a visual and performative work through a short art film. The film includes a live session recorded inside a sea cave facing the Mar Ligure, the very coastline where Jolanda spent her childhood, dreaming of sirens and listening to the sea as if it were speaking directly to her. This site-specific performance reconnects the music to its place of origin, allowing the voice to resonate within stone, water, and air, and transforming the cave into both a sanctuary and a threshold between myth and reality.

What if the sirens’ songs were considered dangerous because they carried another truth, an ancient truth long forgotten?

Oceanine embraces the idea that we are still deeply woven into myth. Though we may see ourselves as rational and modern beings, our world is saturated with ancient symbols and archetypes, often distorted, simplified, or stripped of their original meaning. And if those symbols are allowed to shift, if the mirror once held by the siren becomes an invitation to look beyond appearances and into what has been obscured, then we may finally uncover a deeper truth and reclaim the voice that was always ours.

Oceanine is not just an album. It is a reclamation, a spell, and a call from the depths.

Reintroducing Soar - the alias of Christian Aebi, serial DIY taper and one-man orchestra from Langenthal, a fog-shrouded town in the Swiss provinces. Krautophobia, ambient lo-fi agriculture, analogue soul balm and slowspeed psych gelati-blitz cardboard pop only gesture towards the sound world he coaxed from his broken Tascam four-track recorder, in attics, churches, junkyards and at the kitchen table.

The spark for Soar was likely time and space, somewhere in the autumn of 1994. Armed with a cable salad of Sixties guitar/bass, fairground drums, mould-speckled organs and toy instruments, Aebi coaxed five albums, an unverified run of 25 cassettes, and a handful of gigs. Mostly issued through Zurich label Corazoo, the records arrived in hand-pasted sleeves, rough-cut reproductions of his teddy bear-fixated artwork that carried the same imperfect immediacy as the music. With Rudi Steiner, performances in galleries, clubs and halls bent into live sound-image happenings - part installation, part film, part flea-market-instrument theatre - invariably leaving the house engineers bewildered.

At the time of his untimely death in 2021, Aebi remained a village secret, his music passed quietly between friends and local ears. Now, Swiss graphic designer and Ghost Riders compiler Ivan Liechti has pieced together a portrait from the afterglow, gathering tangled audio formats, paintings, illustrations, photographs and notebooks with his family, former label and peers. What emerges is a first glimpse of Soar's intimate cosmos - brushing against Füxa, Spectrum, Dump, Stereolab and King Crimson, but orbiting a dimension entirely his own.

Arriving two years after the first chapter, Absurd Matter 2 isn’t just a sequel, it’s an evolution, redrawing the boundaries established by its acclaimed predecessor. The Berlin-based Italian producer tempers his confrontational sonics with rare moments of introspection, shifting seamlessly between blown-out noise, warped hip-hop, mutant club experimentation, and weightless ambience. Textures disintegrate and reassemble, rhythms flex and crumble, and every detail balances on the edge of fantasy. It’s a poetic, layered response to Nino Pedone’s changing physical reality: the gradual hearing loss and perceptual renegotiation triggered by Ménière’s disease, which struck him in 2022. At first, the experience felt like betrayal, a brutal disconnection from the very sense that had shaped his life. But over time, the disorientation turned into a strange kind of focus. The silence between sounds became as expressive as the sounds themselves.
The first Absurd Matter was a visceral reaction to trauma; the second is more reflective – an ambiguous chronicle of sensory recalibration. Pedone doesn’t represent his altered inner reality through extremes, but through depth, zooming in on illusory distortions, tense rhythmic fluctuations, and fragmented sonics. Dense, immersive, and mystical, the album mirrors Pedone’s evolving relationship with perception itself.
Tinnitus-like feedback wails and noir-ish strings introduce “Repeater”, making it immediately clear that Pedone is painting a more delicately finessed image this time around. Fleshed out by raps from cult MCs billy woods and E L U C I D, the track is marked by subtle, sophisticated contrasts: the blurred, inverted rhythms that couch Armand Hammer’s haunted back-and-forth, and the glitchy interference that offsets the lavish orchestral phrases. Backwoodz associate Fatboi Sharif lends his Lynchian drawl to “Bandage Chipped Wings”, grounding Pedone’s lysergic rhythmic distortions with syrupy, horror-inspired couplets. Pedone also invites discomfort into “Crash Landing”, with droning, metallic tones that contradict South Central rapper ICECOLDBISHOP’s elastic flow. “Bitch, I don't give a fuck about anybody,” he squawks over Pedone’s incongruous rasping textures and time-warped beats, “cash out at any party.” Working alongside London’s Loraine James on production, Pedone reunites with Moor Mother on “I Saw The Light”, blending James’ soft-focus atmospherics with soundsystem-damaging, overdriven bass hits and rusted percussive snips. Moor Mother’s assertive words hover over the wreckage, tightening Pedone’s themes of overstimulation and altered awareness as they stutter and veer off course, vanishing into the backdrop.
Contrasting his more pensive experiments, Pedone’s dancefloor deviations are more concentrated on Absurd Matter 2 than ever before. He torches a stuttering dembow structure on “X”, obfuscating the rhythm’s familiar energy with disturbing audio hallucinations. On “Splintered”, he reunites with Kenyan prodigy Slikback, mangling neon-lit trance arpeggios with dissociated trap rhythms. He sharpens his skills to a fine point on “Oblivion Step”, observing 2- step through a lens of distortion and personal abstraction, shaking blipping synth leads over neck-snapping drums and counteracting the momentum with airless sci-fi soundscapes.
Perhaps the album’s most surprising moment arrives with “Viel”, which features vocals from Los Angeles-based composer Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith. Together, Pedone and Smith chance upon their notion of dub techno, fogging synth stabs and ghostly vocal traces into eerie harmonic distortions. On some level, it’s almost pop music, a far cry from the bleak dissonance of Absurd Matter and a hopeful way to reframe turbulence as transformation. Absurd Matter 2 doesn’t simply document a process; it enacts one. It doesn’t offer clarity; it invites disorientation. It’s not a map of the labyrinth, but a foghorn piercing the darkness.

Soul Jazz Records’ new Soul Jamaica brings together a wicked selection of
reggae funk and soul tracks from the legendary Studio One stable, featuring
a stellar line-up of artists including Jackie Mittoo, The Heptones, The
Gladiators, Sim Smith, Peter Tosh and The Wailers, Cedric ‘Im’ Brooks and
many more.
For a short period of time at the end of the 1960s and early 1970s, nestled
between the end of rocksteady and the arrival of roots reggae, Studio One
released a small stream of superb soul and funk reggae tunes – covering
everyone from Sly and The Family Stone, Diana Ross and The Supremes,
Nina Simone, Gene Chandler, Tyrone Davis and more.
Most of the tracks featured on Soul Jamaica were only ever released on
Studio One’s UK-subsidiary label Bamboo in small-run pressings and are
now consequently extremely hard to find.
The cover photograph features images of Air Jamaica, the new airline
created by the Jamaican government at the end of the 1960s, showing how
in the years following independence the
country assumed its place on the world
stage, with reggae music playing a key
role in creating the island’s new
cultural identity.

In the heart of a post-apocalyptic city, Spacelunch was making his way through the ruins, wearing a heavy armour of metal plates and flickering circuitry. Cat settled on his shoulder, listening intently to every sound. This time, they weren't just looking for an artefact — their target was the Singularity Echo, a mysterious device created right before the catastrophe. Legend had it that the scientists of the past, sensing the impending collapse, had put all their accumulated experience and knowledge together to create it. It was said that one day “Echo” would awaken and allow descendants to touch the wisdom of the ancients, learn the secrets of forgotten technologies and, perhaps, avoid the fatal mistakes of the past.

— We’ve been wandering around for how long? — muttered Cat, looking around warily. — And nothing.

— Sitting up there complaining, aren’t you? — Spacelunch grinned, deftly bypassing the debris and intertwined roots that poked out from under the asphalt.



Suddenly, a glow flashed before them, gradually taking the form of a palm-sized transparent crystal. It floated in the air, surrounded by silver lining that wove into intricate patterns, like a network of ancient runes. The symbols on its facets, flickering, cast soft reflections on the debris around them. As the professor slowly reached out his hand, the crystal shone brighter, and the low whisper of distant voices cut through the silence. Their minds were enveloped by the echoes of past events, filling their minds with images of the vanished world.

The friends froze for a moment, overwhelmed by shock and a sense of profound change.

— Well, — said Cat, not hiding his surprise. — It seems we've gotten a little smarter.

— A little? Now we have what has been lost for an era.

— So, we have a new adventure ahead of us. Where do we start?

The ghost town, once seemingly lifeless, now seemed to come to life: every collapsed building and every corner sparked with traces and clues as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for a sign.

Five sisters Jacqueline, Lyn, Pat, Rae and Gennie Jackson were from Compton, California. “I Believe In Miracles” was written and originally recorded by Mark Capanni. The musical tracks were the work of the late Gene Page (string arranger for Barry White). The vocals were produced by Pete Moore of the famous Smokey Robinson & The Miracles along with Bobby Taylor, who also had a group called Bobby Taylor & The Vancouvers. “When I Believe In Miracles was first released in 1973 the sisters were nominated for best new vocal group for the Black Image Awards and best new female artist by Record World Magazine in 1974-1975 which was announced on Soul Train an aired Feb. 22, 1975. However the song did not take off until the UK ‘rare groove’ scene of the 80s, after which an extended version was created which appears for the first here time on 7”

Like a metaphor for life, the progressive sounds of « Tree of Life » evoke the image of a tree that never stops evolving and growing. With its deep and captivating melodies, Nurse Erica takes us on a cosmic journey to the outer edges of Trance and Progressive House.

As its name suggests, « Being Trance » brings together all the elements of a Trance classic: soaring melodies, spacey leads, and groovy percussion. It’s the perfect introduction to the first side of the vinyl, a metaphor for the birth of the tree.

« Do My Stuff (Ears in Space Mix) » picks up right where the opening track leaves off. Striking a balance between dreamy and nostalgic, its deep bass and driving percussion lay down the rhythm, while the airy melodies scatter like autumn leaves.

With « Take The Heartbreak », Nurse Erica explores a universal rite of passage. The first half of the track, broken and introspective, gradually gives way to a brighter second half : a glimmer of hope for every broken heart.

And with spatial vocals and cosmic atmospheres, what better way to close the journey than with the title track « Tree of Life » ? In this piece, Nurse Erica blends Trance-infused melodies with Progressive House percussion, enriched by luminous, nostalgic piano notes, like the blossoming of a tree. Deep.

Gradually, the latest album by Julien Mier, is a sonic journey that delves into the transitions of life, identity, and the blurred boundaries between art and personal growth. With a trilingual brain, Mier reflects on how language shifts have shaped his sense of self throughout his life and the music that he writes. Gradually is his exploration of shapelessness—an urge to break free from rigid musical genres and get closer to his most fundamental expression. The album is composed of nine tracks, each representing a distinct cultural and linguistic influence, all tied together by the theme of gradual evolution.

The first section, Ciel, Soleil, and Espace (French for Sky, Sun, and Space), draws on Mier’s French heritage, evoking the feeling of childhood memories bathed in a warm, nostalgic glow. This fluid, atmospheric section mirrors the soft, ever-changing air, symbolising a time of pure, untainted intention. It feels like a hazy, sepia-toned dream, as fleeting and elusive as the scent of an old friend. The gentle flow of the music mirrors the flow of wind, effortlessly shifting from one element to the next, a reflection of the innocence and clarity of youth.

The second section, Steen, Zee, and Zand (Dutch for Stone, Sea, and Sand), channels the influence of Mier’s childhood in a small Dutch dune village. These tracks are grounded in the hard-edged textures of electronic dance music, a genre that introduced him to a world of rhythm and movement. With a sonic palette of blues, greys, and more defined shapes, this section captures the solid, enduring forces of nature—earth, water, and stone. It’s a sonic landscape rooted in stability, a foundation from which everything can grow. The tracks build from the fluidity of the first section into more structured, rhythmic territories, mirroring the natural transition from childhood innocence to the discovery of deeper, more grounded musical influences.

The final section, Scrap (a collaborative track with the Japanese producer Daisuke Tanabe), Soil, and Spark, dives into the exploration of the world beyond familiar borders. Mier’s relocation from the Netherlands to Australia in 2016 is reflected in these pieces, which grapple with the contrast and complexity of different cultures and environments. These tracks are tinged with rust-red hues and a sense of eroded beauty, evoking a more fragmented, distorted view of the world. The music here is marked by tension, conflict, and the erosion of once-solid forms—symbolic of the digital and ecological storms that shape our modern existence. The closing piece, Spark, signals a new beginning, a hopeful initiation into the cycle of renewal.

The album artwork for Gradually is a conclusive visual representation of this journey, captured in the final frame of an analog film roll that began in the Netherlands and concluded with an image of the streets of Sydney, Australia—a perfect metaphor for the album’s narrative of gradual transition and discovery.

The moment the instantly recognizable intertwined guitar passage on the title track to the Eagles' Hotel California begins, the record's genius becomes obvious all over again. Ranked the 118th Greatest Album of All Time by Rolling Stone, certified by RIAA as the third best-selling LP in history, and considered the foundation on which the Golden State's mid-‘70s music scene was built, the 1976 landmark is a music staple immune to shifts in trends, eras, and styles. Fearlessly addressing the chaos and consequences of American life, its songs remain strikingly prescient and gain creedence with each passing day.

Mastered from the original analogue master tapes, pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl, and limited to 17,500 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP vinyl box set ensures you will want to permanently check into and never leave this particular Hotel California. Up to the herculean task of standing head and shoulders above all prior reissues, this collectible edition plays with extreme clarity, organic richness, tube-like warmth, massive dynamics, and microscopic levels of detail. You'll be able to practically smell the colitas and feel the breeze in your hair. Songs come across with an epic sweep and feature immersive, front-to-back soundstages that allow the music unprecedented air, roominess, and separation. As for the noise floor? It's basically as invisible as the spirits that waft in the corridors of the unforgettable title song.

Aesthetically, the premium packaging and presentation of the UD1S Hotel California pressing befit its esteemed status. Housed in a deluxe box, it features gorgeous foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendour of the recording. From every angle, this UD1S reissue exists as a curatorial artefact meant to be preserved, touched, and examined. It is made for discerning listeners that prize sound quality and production, and who desire to fully immerse themselves in the art – and everything involved with the album, from the renowned cover art to the meticulous finishes.

Indeed, the opportunity to zero in on all the particulars of the 26-million-selling Eagles record dubbed "a legitimate rock masterpiece" by vaunted Los Angeles Times scribe Robert Hilburn has never been better. A global phenomenon that marked the band debut of guitarist-singer Joe Walsh, Hotel California continues to resonate and connect with listeners of all generations taken by its narrative depth, stark directness, picturesque melodies, daring majesty, and ardent emotionalism. Adorned with a breathtaking exterior photograph of the Beverly Hills Hotel that serves as the simultaneously haunting and alluring cover art, and rounded out by a rear-cover shot of the Lido Hotel lobby that reinforces a notion that teeters between permanence and transience, Hotel California is brilliantly tied to a specific place that functions as a universally understood metaphor for the American Dream.

Confronting the darker undercurrents and oft-ignored constructs attached to that romantic notion, the record's songs revolve around a host of shared themes: excess, mobility, stability, illusion, fame, destruction, and idealism included. Notably, Hotel California appeared at a crucial junction in American history: During the country's bicentennial and amid escalating controversies related to the Vietnam War, energy crisis, and governmental corruption. That the Eagles manage to channel such cultural, social, and economical matters into a cohesive, stately, big-picture statement is alone a stupendous feat. That the album's reach, boldness, vitality, accessibility, and understated intensity have never waned make it a marvel.

Reflecting on Hotel California 40 years after its original release, and indirectly explaining its enduring appeal and increasing relevance, singer-songwriter Don Henley confirmed the record pertains to the "loss of innocence, the cost of naiveté...the difficulties of balancing loving relationships and work, trying to square the conflicting relationship between business and art; the corruption in politics, the fading away of the Sixties dream of ‘peace, love and understanding.'"

It can be argued that Henley and company squarely hit on and drove home those ideas in the surreal title track, chart-topping "Life in the Fast Lane," and grand "The Last Resort" alone. But that would miss the forest for the trees. Experienced as an unbroken whole, complete with the pristinely shot imagery and physical grooves, Hotel California unfolds like a geography-conscious saga by James Michener and plays like colour-saturated movie shot on 70mm film by Martin Scorsese. It's about our collective and individual decisions – and the shape of our past, present, and future. And, just like that conjured by our imaginations, Hotel California continues to take on a life of its own.

More About Mobile Fidelity UltraDisc One-Step and Why It Is Superior
Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab's UltraDisc One-Step (UD1S) technique bypasses generational losses inherent to the traditional three-step plating process by removing two steps: the production of father and mother plates, which are created to yield numerous stampers from each lacquer that is cut. For UD1S plating, stampers (also called "converts") are made directly from the lacquers. Since each lacquer yields only one stamper, multiple lacquers need to be cut. Mobile Fidelity's UD1S process produces a final LP with the lowest-possible noise floor. The removal of two steps of the plating process also reveals musical details and dynamics that would otherwise be lost due to the standard multi-step process. With UD1S, every aspect of vinyl production is optimized to produce the best-sounding vinyl album available today.

MoFi SuperVinyl
Developed by NEOTECH and RTI, MoFi SuperVinyl is the most exacting-to-specification vinyl compound ever devised. Analogue lovers have never seen (or heard) anything like it. Extraordinarily expensive and extremely painstaking to produce, the special proprietary compound addresses two specific areas of improvement: noise floor reduction and enhanced groove definition. The vinyl composition features a new carbonless dye (hold the disc up to the light and see) and produces the world's quietest surfaces. This high-definition formula also allows for the creation of cleaner grooves that are indistinguishable from the original lacquer. MoFi SuperVinyl provides the closest approximation of what the label's engineers hear in the mastering lab.

Wilson Tanner return to dry land with Legends, a wine-soaked agricultural fantasy, made among the grapevines at Manon Farm in South Australia. Where their earlier works settled into the sun-struck torpor of a suburban Perth backyard (69) or drifted off-course on a riverboat on Port Phillip Bay (ii), Legends trades salt air for vineyard sweat, the scrape of boots on dry earth and workers’ radios humming with the summer test cricket season.

Through this agricultural haze an image of a working vineyard emerges - ducks, dogs and plovers intrude; tractors and quads fly-by; stainless steel gleams at the edges. Recorded without mains power, the Manon demos overflow with farmyard ingenuity. Wind, brass, balalaika, balloon, pipe and synth are trained onto the staff with wire, tape and string.

A caricature of Australian viticulture, Legends is packed to the horns with the mythology and manure of natural wine. Swigging and belching in camaraderie, Wilson Tanner press their surroundings into something raw and unfiltered, letting bum notes, leftovers and sediment linger in the bottle. A cornucopia of biodynamic sounds.

Oversized custom cut LP jackets (13” / 33.02 cm width)
Silkscreened with bespoke iridescent citrus green ink by Mark Rice
Short story by Natalia Zuluaga

Flexi 7”:
steaming mescaline (extended mix by bad lsd trips)
Citrus green metallic foil stamp
Pressed in full stereo
Edition of 150

I.

bad lsd trips is the collaborative duo of makers doris dana and domingo castillo flores. Respectively the two have fostered practices that have sprawled out through various approaches and, whether in the lanes of the musical or the contemporary arts, the phenomenology of the social and inclusive prevails. On ultrafest, this motif continues through the psychedelia of its eight time-defying recordings, welcoming the listener into an open temporal architecture of the stereo field as a signifier of environment. It is worth noting that the group began collaborating in Miami, Florida with longer form improvisations recorded to a stereo cassette deck. In these recordings, the paved geographical sprawl and oceanic view permeated the approach to amassing long swaths of sound material. Listening back on that work at the time of this writing, each track feels as though one is walking into an active space, arriving to an event already in full swing and finding your place inside of it. On ultrafest (this album) something different occurs. The space and events are built around you as you move through the record.

II.

The name of the album is ultrafest, which should effectively provoke your mind's eye the imagery of young people dancing, salivating, grinding, and imbibing chemical compounds to the perversely formalized musical genres of “Electronic Dance Music” and latter-era Dubstep often heard in European Uber rides and energy drink commercials. A far distance from the icy and machinic reverie of Techno’s finest rave eras or the notable historical contributions of Miami’s cerebral producers to IDM’s global output, ultrafest is a libidinal catharsis as festival scaled to a multinational corporation of hedonistic excess. The festival has been a hallmark of Miami cultural industry production and optical enticement for tourism, purportedly bringing in nearly a billion dollars in revenue to the city since 2012. Scores of documentation exist wherein this decadent escapism leaves the concertgoer, usually in some neon garment on a near nude body potentially adorned with fluffy faux fur leg warmers, facing a comedown from the combination of volume, sun, dehydration, and methylenedioxy-methylamphetamine. This MDMA experience characterizes an aspect of the way bad lsd trips employs vocals and pitch on this album. The detached, high octaved longing of a high pitched vocal is decoupled from its typical auditory body of song. High-pass clicks and pops touch the (h)air on the back of the neck, promising goosebumps and teasing towards euphoric rushes of dopamine, yet also exist decoupled from the body of song. As the dopamine depletes and the sun imposes itself, Miami’s downtown of skeleton real estate is your company as you meander towards your parked vehicle to rest your fatigued senses, elevated heart rate, and quench the need for air conditioning on your skin. The immediacy of bombastic social immersion to architectural alienation palpable here.

III...

- Nick Klein

2025 Repress

Midnight In Tokyo 2, the second installment to the compilation series that rounds up hidden gems by Japanese artists that's perfect for listening at night in Tokyo, is here. This time the collection brings together some tasty electric jazz fusion from the '80s , compiled by Dubby, the man behind the online record store Ondas.

The compilation begins with "Hikobae," a dark and slow cosmic jazz by saxophonist Genji Sawai, followed by "Danza Lucumi," an odd Caribbean-style jam by Today's Latin Project, a band fronted by Tadaaki Misago of Tokyo Cuban Boys, with arrangements by Yasuaki Shimizu. "On The Coast" is a soulful and mellow vocal track arranged by Ryuichi Sakamoto, from guitarist Shigeru Suzuki's album White Heat, and fusion boogie cut "In The Hot City" is by Mr. Theodore, which was a one-off project by a mysterious artist.

The melancholic soul jazz number "So Long America" is the title track from the album Yasunori Soryo released in '82, following a stint in America with the band Brown Rice. "Twisty" is a tropical reggae tune from the album Samba Kathy, an underrated classic by Jugando which was released on Trash, a sublabel of one of Japan's finest jazz labels, Trio. "Samarkand" is an electric Latin jazz jam that sounds like something Miles Davis and Santana could have played on, performed by a Latin funk band from Fussa. "Imagery" is a primal African fusion track by Katsutoshi Morizono, a member of the prog rock band Yoninbayashi.

"Windmill" is the most acoustic sounding tune on this compilation, a breezy Brazilian affair with a Hermeto Pascoal feel. "Mystery Of Asian Port" is by the band Parachute, which consisted of Japa-nese fusion giants like Akira Inoue, Tatsuo Hayashi and Masaki Matsubara. The cosmic jazz record sounds like something Daniele Baldelli would play in his sets. "Bay Sky Provincetown 1977" is a classic Japanese fusion tune by guitarist Yuji Toriyama.

The set also features the mellow but danceable "Heatwave" by keyboardist Keiichi Oku, featuring a female vocalist (which some have identified as Rie Ida), and last but not least, closing out the 13 track compilation is "Day Dream At The Bob's Beach," a wonderful urban fusion with a beautiful vibraphone melody, from the Japanese fusion classic album that was a one-off project by studio musicians

'Cupar Grain Silo' is Sam Annand's first release on the Blackford Hill label. Its nine tracks blur the lines between ambient electronica and sonic history, as synthesised melodies and rhythms reverberate through the extreme acoustics of the disused Cupar Grain Silo in Scotland. Built in 1964 as a sugar store, the silo towers 60 metres above the surrounding Fife countryside. Its industrial life was short: in 1971 it was closed, and barring a short period as a grain store, remained empty for decades.

In 2014, Sam Annand was given access to the silo as part of the Resono project, set up to study a series of highly reverberant locations across Scotland. The ambitious industrial architecture of the Cupar Grain Silo has given the space a reverberation time of 36.5 seconds. This measurement describes the time a sound takes to decay or 'fade away' in a closed space. To put this in perspective, the Cupar Grain Silo reverb time is around three times longer than that in cathedrals like York Minster and St Paul's.

"The acoustics are immediately noticeable when climbing the ladder into the main chamber", Sam says. "The sound of your voice begins to circle around and above you, inviting you to shout, clap and bang objects to excite the space into revealing its intimidating architectural voice."

Sam began to experiment with musical compositions which responded to the unique acoustics of the silo space. He used impulse responses – a short, sharp sound like a gunshot – to record these acoustics, allowing him to experiment with the silo's reverb in his production. Sam's compositions were performed using a modular synth system, a Roland Juno-6 polyphonic synthesizer and a bowed ride cymbal.

"Chords can be constructed in time by hanging successive single notes in the air," Sam describes, "The flutter echoes from the immediate cylindrical walls can be used to create bursts of scattering spatial imagery and harmonic blooms, following short percussive moments."

Originally recorded on 21st May 2016, 'Cupar Grain Silo' is now released on 12" vinyl with an accompanying booklet of imagery and essays. The compositions are at once true to the unique architectural acoustics of the silo whilst also being playful and experimental with the creative possibilities it offered. Arpeggiated melodies ebb and fall across extended call-and-response shapes formed by the silo's reverb; modular drum patterns crackle like dying machinery; whilst bowed drones waver and wash over.

"We all love reverberation," reflects Prof. Peter Stollery, Professor of Composition and Electroacoustic Music at the University of Aberdeen, on the project. "As kids, we play in it – yelling in forests and caves, surreptitiously dropping objects in huge churches – mouths wide open at the lingering smears of sound which come back to us."

In 'Cupar Grain Silo', Sam Annand has harnessed the extraordinary acoustics of the disused silo to tap into this sense of joy and amazement that reverberation can bring.

how do we live in times when nothing seems safe, how do we listen to music when rockets and bullets make the air scream, how do we produce music when the building with our studio is simply no longer there?

over the last 2 years, AMAS and KONSTANTIN KOST have been trying to produce a techno EP across the borders of the war in ukraine. KONSTANTIN KOST was never able to leave ukraine for this, while we were able to move freely through europe.

this ambivalence is part of this album, it is part of every note and every line of the poems that can be heard here. we all associate techno with bass-heavy and dancing through the night, but ODESSA is more, it is a journey without being able to travel, an experience without being able to experience, an escape without being able to escape and a life without really being able to live ...

neither AMAS was able to travel to odessa during this time, nor KONSTANTIN KOST to europe, neither was able to experience the other personally. however, the exchange of music and lyrics has built up a relationship to a country at war, as well as to its people, musicians, women and children.

while we were dealing with our everyday problems in germany, the situation in ODESSA became increasingly confusing. the constant fear of being drafted and producing videos and images for the album at the same time were extremely ambivalent moments.

how do you deal with your counterpart in such moments and what do you say to someone in a situation that we can hardly imagine? we often talked about friends simply disappearing and corrupt officials and soldiers embezzling money and in the next sentence it was straight back to the vinyl production. these conversations were very rational and at the same time extremely surreal.

this EP is not meant to be a political EP, it is meant to be a human album and to take away the feeling of powerlessness from the people who were and are involved. this production and its music is a triumph over the destructive and dark side of war, it is meant to show that art is boundless and that people are connected all over the world even in the darkest times.

in the first track RED GLOW our guest TANYA (musician and djane from Odessa) stoically repeats the words LOVE and FEAR, followed by the words: “i meet you with red glow, in your eyes i quickly dissolve!” the track is part of everyday life, everywhere you meet this red glow and yet everything has to flow on and yet people still live and dance ...

in NIGHTCALL we walk through the streets and follow the call of darkness. the words “through the night” are used here repetitively like a percussion. but the highs and lows also give us hope and the belief that we will wake up again tomorrow and start a new day. in the dark there is always light, which must be preserved and found.
OLD KINGS is also the title of the poem we have written, based on the poem OZYMANDIAS by percy bysshe shelley. OLD KINGS determine our times and our political systems, seemingly unteachable old men hold the world in a stranglehold and it seems as if there are an infinite number of them. yet we continue to fight against these people, we cannot and do not want to do otherwise ...

in TALK TO GOD, KONSTANTIN KOST reads from the well-known ukrainian poem “a cloud floating behind the sun” by TARAS SHEVCHENKO, a famous ukrainian poet and writer. he is considered the founder of modern ukrainian literature and, in part, of the ukrainian language. it is about red fields, the fog and its darkness, as well as the sea and the calmness of the heart in nature, the longing for peace and peace with god.

in addition to poetry and music, all photographs and videos are original recordings by KONSTANTIN KOST of his city ODESSA. although we cannot visit each other, we still share strong visual impressions of a city that, in all its beauty and resilience, will hopefully soon be open to the world again. the cover is therefore also a picture of the port of odessa, a place where people and goods from all parts oft he world will soon be able to sail in and out again.

The word Asapani is part of the artistic vocabulary of Paolo "Batà" Bianconcini, percussionist of the La Scimmia Records collective, founding member of the Circolo Psiconautico and part of the Neapolitan bands Parbleu, Funkin' Machine and Nu Genea. This ancient-sounding term is a creation of the artist, who defines it as a word of nature, but also the (italian) acronym of Listen to the Silence, Listen to the Peace, Listen to the Inner Nothingness. More than a simple term, an exhortation.

The music contained in Asapani was written and produced between 2022 and part of 2023 by Paolo “Batà” Bianconcini who together with the Circolo Psiconautico (Paolo Petrella on bass and synth, Pietro Santangelo on wind instruments and Roberto Porzio on synths) and takes shape from observation of time and the infinite possibility we have of blocking its fragments and making them our own and then sharing them in another form. The intent is to transport the listener outside of himself, through sound vibrations, during the span of four long tracks that melt into each other feeling like one singular body of work.

This album spans several genres, but at the same time is unique in its style. Spiritual jazz blended with primitive settings, achieving a sensation of sonic primitivism. The listener is projected into a circle of musicians who, sitting around a fireplace, are transported towards infinity by their internal vibrations.The research starts from the four elements of nature (water, fire, earth and air) and thus uniting and fusing with each other they make us question our existence, our depths.
As Batà himself explains, starting from the four fundamental elements in order to keep the search for the fifth element constant.

A location, Melizzano, on the western slopes of Monte Taburno, where the Batahaus stands, the physical and spiritual home of Batà, a magical place in which the Circolo Psiconautico meets, with the aim of navigating the waves of the unconscious and composing music which, through contamination and experimentation, captures the moods of the moment and projects images and colours from the inside out that speak to everyone. Like a real club, the Psiconauti come together to give each other the chance to explore together, create suggestions and get excited among friends.

Long Beach legend Scotty Coats links the West Coast eclecticism of Stones Throw to the NYC cool of DFA and Rong to the Balearic gods of DJ Harvey et al. He personally introduced Be With to Ned Doheny 10 years ago and he was immortalised on Smith & Mudd's last LP. And he's the main man behind the mysteriously titled duo Todd Russell & The Dangerous Coats, alongside Erick "Todd" Coomes (Lettuce founder/bassist).

In very real danger of being lost forever, we unearthed two of their private recordings and present them as a double A-Side 12", adorned with S-T-U-N-N-I-N-G artwork, courtesy of Arizona artist Frank Gonzales.

"Playa Larga" is a melodic, mellow masterpiece and is quintessentially Balearic. It's stretched out, low slung, guitar-soaked drum-machine soul music. It's multi-layered and contains multitudes: it builds and builds and builds and mesmerises as it does so. On the flip, "1900 Ocean Avenue" is a super slo-mo, sunbaked drug-chug which is already blowing minds thanks to early leaks of this cosmic, psychedelic detonation.

On first listen back, Erick said to Scotty: “So wait, nothing really happens, I mean nothing bad happens but nothing really happens”. Apparently these tracks were a bit foreign for Erick, musically, because of the lack of structure in the songs.

One morning, years later, Erick called Scotty and excitedly declared: “dude, I get it now!”. He was listening to random music with a lady friend while watching the sunrise in his 1900 Ocean Ave apartment and "Playa Larga" came on randomly. He'd forgotten all about it and said he had to get up and see what song it was because "it was the perfect soundtrack for a psychedelic sunrise over the ocean."

And that's exactly how we came across it, circa 2018, randomly popping up on a playlist while we were busy doing other things. It stopped us in our tracks but, when trying to find any info on iTunes, we were out of luck. It was only years later that we worked out Scotty had sent it to us. Ever since, we've been working on getting this out to you all. It's finally time.

We've only 500 pressed for the world, with many of them spoken for by those lucky enough to be already ITK, so these are gonna fly: be warned!

Scotty is a world class raconteur so we'll hand over to him to explain how these songs came about and why they mean so much to him in the context of his wider raison d'être:

"These were made 13 years ago when I was a new dad and left my job at Ubiquity Records to provide security for my newborn son, Nolan Liam Chai Coats. I became miserable working a job outside of music for the first time in my life and I was laid off 4 months into it. I was left wondering how the fuck am I going to provide for my family?

I lived in Long Beach and Erick lived a few blocks away. I would walk to his house when Jen finally got Nolan to sleep so I could escape my panic, drink some beers (is it beerlearic?) and make some music. He lived overlooking the ocean with the Queen Mary on the horizon, so I guess mellow Long Beach nights unintentionally inspired the music. These songs were the first two songs we ever made and they embody the desperation and hope I really needed at that time. 12 years later, when Rob at Be With expressed an interest in releasing it, we had Erick's brother Tyler Tycoon Coomes play drums on it at Jazzcats Studio in LBC, with Jonny Bell.

Shortly after I was laid off, I discovered The Stepkids. I was blown away by "Shadows On Behalf" and sent it on to Gilles Peterson. He played it on Worldwide the next day. The Stepkids pulled me back into music and made me realize I wasn't prepared to do anything but be involved with music. After I heard their unreleased album, I knew there was something there so I sent it to my good friend Jamie Strong who was at Stones Throw at the time. Jamie passed it along to Peanut Butter Wolf and the band asked me to be their manager. I didn't think I was the right guy for the job but wanted to see them do well so I told them I would help shop their album. Jamie suggested I take his place at Stones Throw, just as he did when he left Ubiquity Records. I always joke that Jamie can call me Scotty Coat Tails because I had been riding his for years.

Wolf told him that "Scotty is a nice guy but has horrible taste in music", which was ironic because he was literally trying to sign the band that I brought him. The Stepkids signed with Stones Throw and found a real manager. 6 or so months later Jamie sent me a note saying "Stones Throw is hiring and you should apply lol". I told him I was going to send my resume and the subject of the email was to read I HAVE GREAT FUCKING TASTE IN MUSIC. I did just that and got a call the next day from their new GM asking me to come in for an interview. When I walked in I was in Wolf's office where I had been 6 months before, signing The Stepkids
deal. Wolf and Jason McGuire were asking me some questions and wanted to introduce me to Jeff Jank. Jank walked in and said "Isn't this the guy that Jamie wanted to bring on 6 months ago?" They confirmed and he threw his hands up and walked out saying "I've seen enough". I got the job. I worked there for 2 or 3 years until I left to join forces with Jamie Strong at his label and stayed there for almost 7 years."

Scotty wanted to use a painting by his good friend, Frank Gonzales, for the front cover image. Frank was incredibly generous in letting us use this one, and Scotty was completely honoured. We think you'll agree, it's pretty striking. Simon Francis carefully mastered the original audio for both tracks and Cicely Balston's precise cut for Alchemy at AIR Studios ensures this double A-side 12" sounds appropriately outstanding. The immaculate Record Industry pressing will ensure these previously unheard, recently discovered recordings finally get a chance to shine.

Speedy J and Steve Rachmad join forces as Speedy & Steve for a four-track techno EP on Luke Slater's Mote-Evolver this February.

Dutch artists Speedy J and Steve Rachmad have long been defining the techno underground with seminal tunes on a range of influential labels. For their new release, the duo jammed in Speedy's studio for their new release, working the live results into four fresh and powerful new tracks, kicking off a new series of live collaborations on Luke Slater's Mote-Evolver.

The intense and textural 'Reddo' kicks off with industrial synth lines designed for maximum warehouse impact before 'Dabler Nine' brings its deep rolling drums and mind-melting synth lines late into the night. 'Right Well and Clean' has fresh, airy kick drums rolling beneath harsh and icy hi-hats before 'Rotor' closes the release in cosmic fashion with spiralling pads and intensely layered synths and drums.

This new series will see artists collaborating in person, with each EP capturing the creative moment as it happens, with results aimed squarely at the dance floor. Each release in the series has artwork in a specific style that combines one item from each artist, which means something to them, into one new image.

Gentle waves lap the soft white sand. The limitless ocean fills the view as the sun slowly sinks below the horizon. As the day ends in blue and orange tones, the heat begins to subside, a sure sign that the slow evening migration from the beach will soon begin. A pleasant, yet formidable music comes from the radio tuned into a frequency transmitted from Paris. Maybe it was written and recorded in the 70s, or maybe it has simply soaked in that aesthetic all the way down to the pauses. It doesn't really matter. Delving deep to explore the roots of Brazil’s musical tradition, the Camarão Orkestra has tapped into Candomblé and its rhythms. Born on the drums of enslaved Africans in a ritual that invokes numerous deities, they lay the foundation for this new album, Nação África. The eleven musicians, guided by Amanda Roldan’s silky voice and guest appearance by Anthony Joseph (“Canto De Bahia”), explore and embrace the murmuring polyrhythm of Brazilian percussion instruments, vibrating berimbau and squeaking cuícas, pouring their tightlywound funk bass into the groove and letting their jazz fly free, together and solo. The seven nonchalant tracks get your hips swaying, whether you’re in a comfortable armchair or surrounded by other dancers. They take your mind far away, on a journey paved by analog synths with Fender Rhodes crystals to the horizon where the sun’s last glimmer has finally faded away. The brass section’s shiny bells, valves and keys reflect the images and ambiance of the soft Brazilian night air.

recorded and produced by christina nemec in vienna and horner wald 2016
mastered and cut at dubplates & mastering, berlin 2017

artwork by susi klocker

On her latest release, chra aka Christina Nemec is sketching out a psychogeographical map, that guides you to the border of the internal and external world - 'on a fateful morning' lets you enter a sphere where the imaginary and the subliminal cross. Evoking abstract images that transcend reality, chra installs an autarchic time-and-space-continuum of vague, nocturnal beauty. Pastose bass drones, airy ambient synths and processed audio-samples form a hypnotic stream that lets you enter an altered state of mind. By subtly intertwining musical and non musical sounds chra is weaving an intensely atmospheric, poetic tableau of emptied spaces left to our imagination. It's the pulse of arcane memories that is filling these sonic landscapes, operating deep within our subconscious.

'on a fateful morning' is haunting music to play in the dark - conspirative, uncanny, with a dystopian smack.

Following his critically acclaimed debut "Dentsu2060" released via Lorenzo Senni's Presto!?, Tasho Ishi's second full-length album "Tasho Ishi lI" is now available on his own label T's.

tI features the new-wave Parapara anthem "Collapse Roppongihills" which became a staple at Narita Airport raves. celebrity trap rave track "DreamDrakeDrain" reminiscent of jam session between Drake and David Chronenberg. the junk entertainment track "Hellnwein" depicting modern pop utopia and its violent underbelly.

The Japanese-style Eurodance meets Philip Glass "The Bachelor" inspired by reality TV. These anthems are contemporary, pop, and carry Tasho Ishi's unique critical edge.

The second album, 'Tasho Ishi Il', is both a musical translation of Japan's diverse techno-animism and a sequel to the previous work "Dentsu2060" Techno-animism: Para Para, anime voice actors, reality TV, epics, advertising, and raves. Each track stands alone yet forms part of a larger, chronologically unfolding narrative.

While all tracks are animated by Japan-specific sound imagery, this is a pop album rather than avant-garde or abstract. In essence, it's a series of songs generated by rave trans-layers, serving as both reportage and documentation tracing Tasho Ishi's visionary city and its phenomena.

With Hyperbola, Laima Adelaide frames speed as a condition of softness rather than impact. The fan- tasy of flying through the air with effortless move- ment forms its emotional core, as tracks move fast, yet nothing collides: rhythms skim the surface, tex- tures hover, and motion unfolds through glide inste- ad of strike. Energy is continuous and diffused, pro- ducing propulsion without aggression, momentum without weight.

The hyperbola operates as both image and method. Sounds trace curved trajectories, drawing close only to diverge again, suspended in a state of gentle tension. Elements never resolve into force, they re- main airborne, elastic, and permeable, as if shaped by an invisible geometry. Across the EP, velocity becomes a tool for lightness, revealing an ethereal space where motion is elegant, friction dissolves, and intensity is carried through grace rather than pressure.

Credits:
Mastering by HWA
Artwork and Graphic Design by Enrico Caldini
Distributed by One Eye Witness

The analog LP reissue of the original soundtrack album from the anime Mr. Ajikko, which aired in 1987. The original LP catalog number is K28G-7379, and the original
CD catalog number is K32X-7125, released on June 21, 1988 (the tracklist differs from the CD released in 2004, which included eight newly added tracks).
The original manga, created by Daisuke Terasawa, was serialized in Weekly Shonen Magazine from autumn 1986 to the end of 1989, and was adapted into an anime
series that aired on TV Tokyo from October 1987 to September 1989.

This is the only soundtrack album for the anime series. It features the opening theme “Renaissance Jounetsu” and the ending theme “Kokoro no Photograph”, both
composed and sung by singer songwriter Wataru Kuniyasu, who is also known for composing Akina Nakamori’s “Gypsy Queen”. Lyrics were written by Ikki Matsumoto,
and arrangements were done by Tatsumi Yano.

The album includes image songs, eyecatch music, and preview tracks, with contributions from renowned comedy song artists Masayuki Yamamoto (Side A tracks 4 and 6)
and Tatsuo Kamon (Side B tracks 1 and 7). The album was structured, scripted, and directed by the anime’s director Yasuhiro Imagawa, making it a variety style album.
The main background music (BGM) was composed and arranged by Daito Fujita (Side A tracks 1, 3, 5, 7; Side B tracks 3, 5). The original manga author Daisuke
Terasawa also contributed lyrics for two songs (Side B tracks 3 and 5). Voice actor Tomohiro Nishimura participated both as a singer (Side A track 8; Side B track 7)
and as an arranger (Side B track 7).

Voice actors Minami Takayama, Yoko Kawanami, Miki Narahashi, Hirotaka Suzuoki, and Kenyu Horiuchi also participated in min dramas and chorus segments.
This album, which comically and dramatically portrays cooking battles, is a “Bravo!” anime soundtrack that closes out the Showa era in style. After 37 years, it is finally
being reissued as an analog LP a long-awaited release for anime connoisseurs!

When the ghost in the machine meets the breath in the reed, expect sparks. Electronic sound artist Robin Rimbaud – Scanner joins forces with acclaimed British bass clarinetist Gareth Davis to create an album where circuitry hums, wood vibrates, and the air between notes crackles with possibility.

This is no polite meeting of minds — it’s an elegant collision. Scanner’s intricate electronic textures weave around Davis’s deep, resonant tones, blurring the boundary between acoustic breath and digital pulse. The result is a sound world that’s at once intimate and expansive, familiar yet thrillingly unpredictable.

Think late-night conversations in abandoned buildings. Think fog rolling over neon. Think sound that slips through your fingers even as it takes hold of you.

The songlines in question , memories and distorted images of travels across various continents, form an imagined biography of places that might or might not have been but somehow seem to exist . Landscapes of blurred statements , lost words and echoes of meandering structures.

"If Miles Davis had been raised on shortwave radio static and midnight phone calls, it might have sounded like this."

Chris Menist pares his sound right back for A book of imaginary beings, his fourth Awkward Corners outing with a project of electronic and abstracted global grooves. Experimenting with simple melodies and uncluttered arrangements, as well as taking inspiration from the Borges' short stories alluded to in the title, the project took shape in the early part of 2025, in the shorter days and dark evenings of January.

The initial challenge was to knock a basic track into shape each evening after work, then refine it later. There's a melancholy in the air in late winter, compounded by the creeping threat of national and geopolitical instability. Ulla, Natural Information Society, Jabu, Torso and Dawuna formed some of the background soundtrack as each tune took shape.

The track titles came after sitting with the sounds for a while, giving shape to images of people, creatures and their stories for a book that is yet to be written.

Two former friends sets the tone for the album perfectly as a minimal electronic piece with a slowly simmering synth bassline underpinning the groove whilst the trademark Awkward sound of the Shahi Baaja enters drenched in effects. It's the first demonstration of Chris' unique ability to create a world from apparently very little.

Dance of the silver beetles is completely unique in that we can hear chopped up Illimba samples seemingly playing backwards and forewords sometimes alone, sometimes together in duet with Chris' conga rhythms. Add to that a more conventional Illimba melody and added shaker percussion and you have one of A book of imaginary beings most curious chapters.

Anxious shadow puppets is closer to the Awkward Corners sound from previous albums as electronic pulses move around the arrangement with the urgency that the track title suggests. Chris' percussive roots move to the fore with the congas that tie down the Paradise Bangkok Molam International Band's sound. Here, the bassline is more playful and works together with one of Chris' many African Illimbas.

Fans of Chris' adventures on his Roland 808 will dig A leopard with no spots, although the minimal mood continues to flow through on this track. The lolloping, but hard-hitting rhythm track provides the grounding for strange and twisting feedback-sounding tones to work the soundscape.

Abandoned boy (left in charge of the family business) is Awkward Corners at his atmospheric best. Drift off to the sublime sounds of Chris exploring the Shahi Baaja, whilst a soft, repetitive synth line and abstracted pads give the listener that feeling of meditation and peace.

Flamingo with bandaged neck is A book of imaginary beings' perfect coda and is exclusively Shahi Baaja draped in reverbs and delays. It feels like the resolution and the closing of a book that – as of yet – remains unwritten.

Awkward Corners is Chris Menist, a musician, DJ and writer. It started life as a small project in Islamabad, where Chris was living at the time. Initial recordings were made with local musicians in Pakistan and then subsequently in Thailand. This culminated in the Sweet Decay LP that came out on Finders Keepers' Disposable Music in 2014, and in turn led to a limited tape release on Boomkat/Reel Torque of original compositions and re-edits of Thai 45s the same year. Chris released – Dislocation Songs – his second LP proper with Shapes of Rhythm in May 2020, collaborating on many of the tracks with award-winning performer Sarathy Korwar. The LP was picked up by many radio stations including NTS, Resonance FM, BBC 6 Music, Balamii and many more. It made Tom Ravenscroft's LPs of 2020. Amateur Dramatics, Chris' second LP arrived just a year later in 2021 and was a more ambitious project featuring more jazz-focussed compositions and featuring Tamar Osborn and Kitty Whitelaw. Shortly after that came another pivot with the heavier, dancefloor-friendly EP Somebody Somewhere. Somebody Somewhere is Dancing in a Field brought the House (yes House!) vibes, whilst Hector Plimmer turned in a remix of No Words in the same club mood.

As one of NTS Radio's longest-standing presenters, Chris continues to hold down the Paradise Bangkok show. Playing drums and percussion since he was a kid, Chris is the percussionist for The Paradise Bangkok Molam International Band as well as co-founding the record label of the same name. Chris has curated compilations for labels such as Finders Keepers, Soundway and Dust-To-Digital. He has been featured on the Boiler Room, Vinyl Factory Collections, played at the Four Tet curated Nuits Sonores festival, and has put together an edition of Volumes which featured unreleased Awkward Corners compositions.






[d] 04: All the Goodbyes (You Tried to Defer) [Original]





[j] 10: Abandoned Boy (Left in Charge of the Family Business) [Original]

Local Action is proud to present Daughters, the debut album by Jennifer Walton.

Walton is a beloved figure across various sectors of the alternative music underground. Outside of her own music and soundtrack work, she has been a live drummer for Kero Kero Bonito, collaborates with Sarah Midori Perry on the pair’s Cryalot project, has remixed Metronomy and worked with Iceboy Violet, BABii and more. She also makes music and DJs with close friends aya and 96 Back under the name Microplastics, and recently contributed to London collective caroline’s acclaimed caroline 2 album.

The first seeds of Walton’s debut album were sowed during touring North America in 2018, where whilst ticking off life-long music goals, Walton’s father was dying of cancer. Grief is a constant presence throughout Daughters, and specifically the surreal nature of having to process it amongst a blur of airports, flight connections, hotel rooms and battles for stolen medication with the American healthcare system. Strip malls, drug deals, panic attacks; the artificiality of downtown American city districts dovetailing with reality in its most brutal form. Miss America for a day while life is changed forever.

Weaving between real life diary entries, travelogue-style storytelling, imagery that ranges from mechanical to religious and a scattering of fiction (though we are obliged to mention that ‘Shelly’ is based on a true story), Daughters climaxes with the staggering run of ‘Saints’, ‘Miss America’ and its title track. Sampling unattended machines harmonising bleeps into the void in a London hospital ward, ‘Saints’ narrates Walton taking her father to and from cancer research trials, “sat, hunched and sick in the concourse as minutes became hours”. And to be very real for a moment, Jen is a friend, and first hearing the ‘Miss America’ demo is up there with the most emotional moments we’ve had in 15 years of running this record label.

Finished in London across the second half of 2024, Daughters features musical contributions from some of the closest friends and collaborators that Walton has made in her time as a musician: aya (who also mixed the album), Daniel S. Evans, Joshua Barfood and Nick Granata (all of Shovel Dance), Alex McKenzie (of caroline and Shovel Dance), Aga Ujma and Bob Lockwood.

Italian producer, musician, DJ, and groove architect Sam Ruffillo drops his long-awaited debut album Tipo Così on Toy Tonics – a sun-drenched, genre-blurring statement that blends classic house with Mediterranean flair, romantic funk, and tongue-in-cheek Italo vibes. Over 11 expertly crafted tracks, Ruffillo delivers a dancefloor-ready, emotionally rich LP that connects deep musicality with irresistible rhythm and light-hearted elegance.

After three acclaimed EPs and collaborations with revered artists such as Barbara Boeing, Kapote, and Fimiani, Ruffillo has firmly cemented himself as a core artist on the Berlin-based label. Known for his unmistakable signature sound — a warm mix of vintage disco, 90s house, and Italian vocals — Sam’s music has garnered widespread DJ support from tastemakers like Gerd Janson, Palms Trax, Seth Troxler, and DJ Tennis, while becoming a staple on Italian airwaves. His infectious summer anthems like Danza Organica and Perfetta Così have soundtracked countless club nights and festivals, creating a loyal following that eagerly awaited this full-length debut.

Tipo Così is the natural culmination of a musical journey that’s both playful and profound — a travel diary written in grooves, synth stabs, and melodies that feel like postcards from a parallel Mediterranean universe. The album expands and deepens Ruffillo’s world into a fully immersive experience: lush emotional chords meet tight syncopated grooves, vintage synth textures collide with irresistibly catchy pop refrains, and the boundary between sincerity and playful irony is exquisitely blurred.

Entirely written, produced, and recorded in Italy, in his beloved hometown of Bologna, the album finds Ruffillo at the helm on keys, drum machines, and production, supported by a talented cast of musicians contributing live bass, guitar, and other organic elements — further enriching his trademark fusion of electronic grooves and natural instrumentation. There’s a tactile warmth in these tracks, a hands-on feel that adds soul and depth to every beat.

This album also marks Ruffillo’s heartfelt return to singing in Italian, with standout tracks like House Tipo Così, Mi Fa Volare, Ancora, and Dentro Di Me, where romantic naïveté meets pulsing club energy in a way that feels both timeless and refreshingly new. The vocal performances add an intimate, human touch to the music, reinforcing the personal stories woven into each song. There’s poetry in the casual, a bittersweet elegance in the way the lyrics float over groove-heavy production.

Having toured extensively across Europe, Australia, Indonesia, New Zealand, and Mexico — with sets at iconic venues like Panorama Bar and festivals such as Sónar Barcelona — Ruffillo has fine-tuned much of this album in front of live audiences. The real-world testing ground infused the record with a dynamic energy and immediacy that only comes from genuine crowd interaction. These songs weren’t just made in the studio — they were lived on dancefloors around the world.

Tipo Così is not just a collection of tracks. It’s a philosophy — playful, stylish and unmistakably personal. A modern club album bursting with heartfelt emotion and sophistication. Music for dancers with taste; for lovers of beauty, rhythm, and the little imperfections that make things feel real.

But what exactly is Tipo Così? More than just a phrase, it’s a way of being. It’s about embracing elegance without effort, mixing irony with sincerity, and letting nostalgia slip into the room without taking over the party. It’s Sam Ruffillo’s signature language: relaxed, confident, meticulous yet never rigid — where a chord progression can say as much as a lyric, and every beat carries intention.

The album’s visual identity complements this vision perfectly. The artwork and promotional materials lovingly reference Italian design from the ’80s and ’90s, combining bold graphic elements with playful pop culture nods. This aesthetic mirrors Ruffillo’s music — a fusion of vintage warmth and contemporary freshness, delivered with authenticity and charm.

Sam Ruffillo belongs to a new generation of European artists who are reshaping electronic music by blending past and present, analog and digital, groove and emotion — without nostalgia or pose. His artistic universe is coherent, vibrant, and alive; a rich tapestry of sound, images, and stories that coexist with lightness, precision, and a distinctive voice.

Reflecting on his artistic journey, Sam describes music as a vital, deeply human impulse — a tribal connection to rhythm and body that has driven him since he was a teenager. His creative process balances meticulous planning with room for spontaneity, usually sparked by clear melodic ideas that evolve naturally. Collaborations with close friends, especially vocalists like Ninfa, add warmth and authenticity, exemplified in tracks like “House Tipo Così.” For Sam, music is honest self-expression — crafted for listeners who crave memorable melodies and rhythms imbued with genuine feeling.

While technical perfection is tempting, Sam prioritizes emotion, knowing that what truly resonates is the soul behind the sounds. His long-standing partnership with Toy Tonics has been key in nurturing his vision, offering a blend of creative freedom and professional support. Looking ahead, Sam Ruffillo is excited to broaden his live performances, and release new projects that continue to blend electronic grooves with organic, heartfelt sounds — maintaining the delicate balance between playful irony and sincere emotion that defines Tipo Così.




Kurzversion:
Italian DJ, producer and musician Sam Ruffillo drops his debut album Tipo Così on Toy Tonics - a sunny blend of house, funk, Italo and pop, full of groove and emotion. Written and recorded in Bologna with live instruments and Italian vocals, it’s a playful, elegant journey shaped on dancefloors worldwide. A stylish, sincere club album where nostalgia, irony and rhythm meet in perfect harmony.

- Mi Fa Volare
Road-tested across continents and now finally released, “Mi Fa Volare” channels 90s uplifting euphoria with big breakbeats, lush chords, and Italian vocals built to stick. Somewhere between balearic bliss and piano house nostalgia, it’s a feel-good club weapon made for peak-time moments - already sung back by crowds after just one listen.


- Ancora
“Ancora” is a vibrant hi-NRG track inspired by 80s Italo disco, sung entirely in Italian. It blends driving rhythms with dreamy melodies, capturing the radiant spirit of the decade. This fresh yet nostalgic song delivers euphoric vibes and timeless energy, making it a perfect fit for both dancefloors and reflective listening moments worldwide.


- Dentro Di Me
“Dentro Di Me” channels ‘90s sensuality through a fast-paced, UK house-inspired lens. Entirely in Italian, it’s a bold and contemporary dance track where hypnotic vocals meet high-energy grooves. Blending nostalgic textures with forward-thinking production, the result is a seductive and euphoric trip - equal parts emotional and club-ready.


- Amigo
“Amigo” blends Latin groove, acoustic guitar-driven rhythm, and Mediterranean flair into a warm, magnetic, cross-cultural dance anthem. Sung in Spanish and Italian, it celebrates connection, inclusivity, and the joy of moving together - whether stranger or friend. With its unstoppable rhythm and vibrant energy, it’s a feel-good track with a unifying spirit.


- Ma Sei Fuori
“Ma Sei Fuori” is a tongue-in-cheek dancefloor bomb blending raw house energy with catchy vocal phrases and a nod to classic French touch. Driven by hypnotic vocal lines and a playful attitude, it doesn’t take itself too seriously - while still proving serious club impact. Built for late-night moments, it’s bold, bouncy, and impossible to ignore.

Emil Friis’ neues Album Moving Images, seine erste Soloveröffentlichung für das Klassik-Imprint 130701 des Labels FatCat, ist ein Zeugnis der menschlichen Verfassung und der Dinge, die uns als Spezies zusammenbringen. Es ist inspiriert von den Bewegungen des menschlichen Geistes und den Geschichten, die wir durch Musik, Worte, Kunst und Film teilen.

Das Album umfasst ein breites Spektrum an Instrumenten und Emotionen: düstere Kammermusikstücke wie „For Goodbyes“, bedrohliche, aber hoffnungsvoll hypnotische Ambient-Stücke wie „Zero“, sanfte Solo-Piano-Stücke wie „Dancing“, poetische und verspielte Flöten- und Synthesizer-Stücke wie „Through Air“ und spannungsgeladene, filmische Streicher-, Synthesizer- und Klavierstücke wie „An Upward Motion“.

„Moving Images“ ist auch ein gemeinsames Projekt zwischen Friis und ausgewählten Filmemachern. Jeder der 15 Albumtracks wird von einer Videoarbeit begleitet. Die Filmemacher Kevin Brooks, Shaun Hart, Morgan Jon Fox und Jonathan Meyers hatten kreative Freiheit, die Stücke zu interpretieren, die ihnen am meisten zusagten.

Das aus nur wenigen Elementen bestehende Arrangement sorgt für ein enges Zusammenspiel aus Instrumenten und Emotionen sowie der Tiefe der Texturen. Die Originalkompositionen werden auf Synthesizern, Streichern, Holzbläsern und Klavier dargeboten. Mit Beiträgen von Künstlern wie dem renommierten Streicher Davide Rossi werden sie in cineastische, moderne klassische Werke verwandelt. Die Stücke sind so voller Helligkeit, Sensibilität, Spannung und düsterer Schönheit, dass es oft den Anschein hat, als würden die Instrumente miteinander sprechen. Die Phrasen wirken manchmal einsam. An anderer Stelle schweben und fliegen sie. Trotz ihrer Kürze sind die Resultate von Wärme und Inbrunst erfüllt.

Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP Set Plays with Authoritative Tonality, Airiness, and Clarity:
Pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl and Strictly Limited to
3,000 Numbered Copies
1/4” / 15 IPS Dolby A analogue master to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe

Joni Mitchell is the only artist who could’ve made Hejira. The legendary singer-songwriter said as much when discussing the album decades after its release. Yet that fact seemed obvious from the moment the gold-certified effort streeted in fall 1976. An adventurous travelogue, probing narrative, and offbeat homage to freedom, Hejira remains an inimitable entry in the catalog of recorded music — a spare, gorgeous, meditative series of sonic vignettes comprised of floating harmonic pop, cool jazz, soft rock, and sensitive vocal elements that beckon feelings of motion, discovery, and self-examination.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing on MoFi SuperVinyl, and strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents the record ranked the 133rd Greatest of All Time by Rolling Stone with definitive detail, richness, accuracy, and directness. Marking the first time the revered LP has received audiophile treatment, it's one of six iconic 1970s Mitchell records Mobile Fidelity is reissuing on vinyl and SACD.

Playing with a virtually nonexistent noise floor, dead-quiet surfaces, and superior groove definition, this collectible reissue reproduces in enveloping fashion the tones, textures, and craftsmanship that help Hejira function as the equivalent of a liberating trip down an open road with nothing but blue sky, natural landscape, and fresh air in the immediate vicinity. Passages bloom, carry, decay as they do amid an acoustically optimized environment. Soundstages extend far, wide, and deep, with black backgrounds and pinpoint images adding to the realism.

The reference-grade immediacy, airiness, and presence put in transparent perspective Mitchell’s dense strings of words, stream-of-conscious-like phrasing, and unhurried albeit forward momentum. Likewise, the instrumental contributions of her A-list support musicians — a cast that includes L.A. Express members John Guerin, Max Bennett and Tom Scott, plus Neil Young, Victor Feldman, and Abe Most — emerges with breathtaking clarity and dimensionality.

While Mitchell, whose intimate vocals and abstract guitar parts center everything, Mobile Fidelity's restoration of Hejira further reveals the visionary breadth of guitarist Larry Carlton and bassist Jaco Pastorius. Though heard on only four tracks, Pastorius' fretless bass epitomizes the fluid, subtle, flexible, roomy, and shape-shifting characteristics of songs that often appear to transpire out of nowhere akin to the formation of a puffy cumulus cloud overhead. In sync with Mitchell’s voice, Pastorius’ fusion hovers and floats, suspended in a fog you want to deeply inhale. The "grace notes" Mitchell desired on Hejira can now be heard in full. Ditto the luxurious tapestries of alinear lines, fills, and supplements unreeled on Carlton’s six-string.

Visually, the packaging of this UD1S set complements its identity as the copy to own. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, the LPs come in foil-stamped jackets with faithful-to-the-original graphics. This version is for listeners who desire to become immersed in everything about Hejira, including the unforgettable album cover — a pastiche of 14 different photos Mitchell used a Camera Lucida to assemble into one image that’s anchored by a portrait of her in a stoic pose — and the interior shots of Mitchell skating on a frozen Wisconsin lake wearing a pair of black skates, black shirt, and fur cape.

The notion of skating, feeling an awakening wind whipping against your face, and losing yourself to the surroundings are extremely apt for Hejira, which Mitchell wrote after a sequence of trips and relationships prompted her to reflect on the complicated conflicts between independence and marriage, success and satisfaction, duty and desire — and, more specifically, “the cost of being a woman.” The Canadian native delved into such themes before. But never as she does on Hejira, whose liberating, running-away aura doubles as another of Mitchell’s rejections of tradition as well as a suggestion of a better alternative.

At once observational and personal, expansive and insular, cheerful and poignant, Hejira spans a sea of human conditions, emotions, and circumstances. It addresses drifting, isolation, pleasure, place, time, and surroundings with strikingly poetic discourse matched with music that, save for the crooned ballad “Blue Motel Room,” forgoes conventional structures and choruses.

The jazz-based arrangements, marked by scaled-down percussion and all manner of bent, rounded, and unsettled notes, hint that Mitchell has no exact destination in mind. Excursions such as the moody “Furry Sings the Blues,” funky “Coyote” and edgy “Black Crow” throw open previously locked doors to possibility and journey. They signal it’s time for a welcome departure from norms and the past, one that leads to a heightened sense of clarity and perspective. Or, as Mitchell said upon choosing the album title, it’s time for “leaving the dream, no blame.”

Produced by Nigel Godrich, Win & Reìgine, and recorded in multiple locales including New Orleans, El Paso and Mount Desert Island, WE paradoxically distills “the longest we’ve ever spent writing, uninterrupted, probably ever" (per the band’s Win Butler) into a concise 40 minute epic – one as much about the forces that threaten to pull us away from the people we love, as it is inspired by the urgent need to overcome them. WE’s cathartic journey follows a definable arc from darkness into light over the course of seven songs divided into two distinct sides -- Side “I” channeling the fear and loneliness of isolation, and Side “WE” expressing the joy and power of reconnection.

On the album’s cover, a photograph of a human eye by the artist JR evokes Sagittarius A*, the supermassive black hole at the center of the galaxy. This stunning image -- embellished by the distinctive airbrush color tinting of Terry Pastor (utilizing the same physical technique he employed on David Bowie’s iconic Hunky Dory and Ziggy Stardust covers) – is the visual expression of WE.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Nicolás Melmann (born in Buenos Aires and now based in Barcelona) explores sound's social and poetic dimensions through transdisciplinary projects. Drawing inspiration from Erik Satie's concept of "furniture music," Melmann's compositions transform the listening experience into havens of calm and contemplation.

Música Aperta is a fusion of acoustic and electronic sounds, rich in beautiful harmonies, where carefully soft elements interplay with delicate raspiness. Made up of three parts, the music unfolds slowly, immersing the listener in time. Música Aperta resonates with echoes of Satie, the meditative minimalism of Arvo Pärt, the roughness of Phill Niblock, and the nostalgic reflections of Richard Skelton.

Another way of listening to Música Aperta is through its digital encore – an extension of the album experience that brings the concept of open music to life – "a work that remains unfinished and open to transformation." The website features a reactive audiovisual interface where images dynamically respond to the music's behavior, translating electroacoustic frequencies into real-time cinematic landscapes. The album blends instrumental and electronic textures while allowing listeners to interact with different layers through a virtual mixer, enabling them to create unique sound combinations and personal sonic experiences.

All songs written and performed by Nicolás Melmann in Château Éphémère.
Mastered by Rafael Anton Irisarri at Black Knoll Studio, NY.
Artwork by Daniel Castrejón.

An air of ancient ritualism cloaks Modern Love’s midnight meeting between UK producer MOBBS and French-Egyptian spellcaster Susu Laroche, carving out a channel between hexed trip hop and shoegaze that’s one part DJ Screw, one part MBV, operating within a long shadow of influence cast by Curve, Leila, Cocteau Twins, Nearly God.

Clasping chiral energies on their debut collab, MOBBS brings a history spanning shadowy production work for big name artists to the grimly stylised vein of performance art and musick explored by Susu Laroche, an Egyptian-French with strong binds to chthonic contemporary London.

Their maiden sacrifice heightens the senses to blends of monotonic, sandalwood scented incantations and carpet-burned downbeats swept in slurred dub. Songs are subtly variegated in tone to spell out shifting plays of light evoking bedsit antechambers and warehouse innards lit by iPhone candle or extractor hood and emergency light bulbs on their last lumens.

It's music that's as elaborately serrated and blemished as early MBV, but positioned in a vastly different cultural landscape, drawing from hip-hop, drone, psych and basement noise. The pair’s range of cultural obsessions maintains a precarious balance between shadowy histories and an asphyxiating present; all too often, when the past is projected it's thru a mollifying, nostalgic lens, so their critical, prudent hybrid sound is a vital, chilling corrective.

From the bell-ringing, chain-rattle jag of ‘Throne’ thru the sleepwalker drift of ‘Roam’, and concrete plangency of ‘Forest’, the marriage of MOBBS’ illusive textures with Laroche’s feel for analog image and film (as evinced in her art for the likes of Blackhaine and Mica Levi) imprints their sound in gauzy layers that leave fleeting impressions on the mind’s eye. At their heaviest, Laroche’s arcane declarations descend in impressive enactments, undressing the excesses of over-glossed trip hop to reveal and revel in the sound at its starkest, sexiest, for new waves of washed up souls.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Tobacco City is a Chicago-based band that blends cosmic country with a mix of psychedelic rock and honky-tonk soul. Their sound captures the essence of small-town nostalgia while embracing modern-day themes, exploring heartache, longing, and the bittersweet nature of life. With their uplifting energy and authentic songwriting, Tobacco City continues to carve out a unique space in the countrytinged Americana scene. On Horses, the highly anticipated follow-up to their critically acclaimed debut, Tobacco City, USA, the band takes listeners on a nostalgic journey through the haze of youth, where time feels suspended and plans are nonexistent. The album’s lyrics conjure vivid images of small-town life—smoking schwag behind the grocery store, drinking cream from a gas station with your first love—capturing that carefree, uncertain time when the future felt distant. The music channels the spirit of ’70s country with influences from legends like Gram Parsons and Emmylou Harris, bringing a timeless, uplifting energy to each track. At the same time, the lyrics intersect with modern-day themes, blending the beauty and innocence of youth with the harsh realities of life. Horses feels like a contemporary take on classic country, merging a nostalgic past with the complex world of today, all while remaining undeniably authentic and heartfelt. This follow-up to Tobacco City, USA—which received high praise from NPR and Rolling Stone— cements the band’s place at the forefront of a new wave of countrytinged Americana. “...Like the Chicago band’s namesake, a slow smoke hangs in the air, heavy with heartbreak and feather-blue eyeshadow, but puts a brave face on. Lexi Goddard sings with a far-away look over a pedal-steel cry, a melody that sways to country songs on jukeboxes of yore...” —NPR “Chicago’s Tobacco City do more with less... spacious grooves as pedal steel wafts through like a gentle breeze. Vocalist Lexi Goddard and Chris Coleslaw sounds simultaneously wistful and playful throughout...” —Rolling Stone

Lucy Sissy Miller is a French/British singer-songwriter, performer and artist based in Paris. On her latest release for Mêtron Records, Pre Country, she renders her own personal take on country music, an ambient and airy ode to her love of Americana. Across 16 tracks, Miller recollects about love-like friendships, breakups, mermaids and missing girl mysteries - the album acting as a movie-like homage to girlhood and desire.

“With this album I really enjoyed blurring the lines between fiction and reality, a bit like what movies are able to do to us. I hide a little bit of personal truth behind each song.”

Influenced by the tones of Laurie Anderson and Imogen Heap, as well as the imagery found in Twin Peaks and Paris, Texas, Pre Country is a rich and explorative record that mixes a wide range of sonic sources. Though very much rooted in folk music, Pre Country is laced with layers of autotune, bringing an other worldly and haunted presence to the work.

“It’s an album about memories and how we stitch up these moments, making them movie-like to make sense of these experiences.”

The record was crafted with notes from journals, poetry, voice memos, transformed and collected sounds and here it carries the many layers of desire, loss and fear that Miller wanted to convey in the songs, communicating an unsteady, explosion of feeling whilst remaining delicate and personal.