Buscar:j t functions

2025 Repress

Hot on the heels of Rapid Eye Movement's journey of discovery and growth comes the EP 'Split: Remixes' featuring reworks of the quartet of cuts originally signed by label founders Memorial Home and VII Circle.

Invited to apply their own reflections onto the material are rising producers Nur Jaber and Wrong Assessment as well as renowned artists on the underground experimental scene Edit Select and Reggy Van Oers.

First up is Nur Jaber's take on VII Circle's 'Metaphysical Functions' showing how the young Berlin-based Lebanese artist is as much inspired on remix duties than in crafting her already much acclaimed productions. The perfect mixture of dark and intense driving techno beat with haunting ambient-driven melodic motifs and dramatic breakdowns encompasses much of what her sophisticated sense of sonic exploration is about.

Up next on a heavier kicking note is 'Dogma' refashioned by Milanese fellow Wrong Assessment who transmits his vision of both minimal and hard pounding techno by merging a strait rugged beat with undulating synth lines and bouncy cymbals that will drive the audience to an insane rave-spirited dance floor venture.

Following the path, Tony Scott a.k.a Edit Select's interpretation of Memorial Home's 'Second Floor' is a clear example of the unique and forward-thinking sound that the Scottish techno scene 'veteran' has developed throughout the years. Deftly combining a tension-building drum and bassline work with layers of hypnotic synth textures that makes the track both suggestive and trippy-hitting in equal measure.

Concluding the journey is Reggy Van Oers (RVO)'s rework of Memorial Home's 'Ampere' which evinces this quest for organic and mental techno soundscapes inspired by classical and cinematic music, characterising the both complex and powerful crafting signature of Dutch Telemorph label's owner.

Between dark shadows and brightness, REM confirms with this new release that quality and free-minded artistry are the key pillars of the platform's curation philosophy.

With the Split EP, the fourth release of their own label Rapid Eye Movement, Memorial Home and VII Circle head the way with two original cuts both and sign another stunning dark and hypnotic techno odyssey with a strong emotional pattern.

The opening track 'Metaphysical Functions', starting with a slow building atmospheric overture, encompasses much of what the VII Circle's sophisticated sound is about. A combination of compelling and dark pulsing kick drums with deep and melodic synth lines and dramatic ethereal breakdowns.

'Dogma' is stamped by a strait cavernous and rugged beat, powerful and catchy basses as well as propelled by uplifting and immersive melodic motifs that have a fierce cosmic appeal.

Following the path, Memorial Home delivers with 'Second Floor' an intense ambient-driven piece, harnessing haunting and misty cinematic textures with a tension-building repetitive bassline which provides a rising magnetic and powerful effect.

Closing the journey or rather keeping the flame high and firm till the deep end, 'Ampere' evinces a more pin-sharp and frantic percussive techno approach overlaid with highly suggestive atmospheric swirling synth effects.

Four captivating weapons which display an aesthetic quest focused and driven both by dancefloor-orientated climax and underground-rooted emotive escapism.

London experimental spoken word and electronics duo BAG land on Phantom Limb with mesmerising new album This House is a Body, marrying visceral poetry with exploratory production to achieve beguiling, occasionally screwy and occasionally dreamy sonics.

“This album functions as a floor plan, a house in itself, collecting and containing the ecosystems of multiple rooms,” write BAG - Canadian artist and poet Jody DeSchutter and London producer Daniel Allison. “The roles we play can be defined by the room we are in; and it can be near impossible to tell what room we are in without looking from outside. This album maps out a number of rooms which hold such relations, memories, or experiences and builds them all into a single house, a single body.” Formed from Allison’s headspinning, depth-mining production for synthesis, field recording, and acoustic instrumentation, and DeSchutter’s lysergic and prophetic spoken word, the palette of This House is a Body can turn on a dime from claustrophobia and dread to hyperreal dream sequence, illuminated in sunstreamed glory in places and dripping with basement effluvia in others. Throughout, words, meaning, and imagery all dissolve into an architecture of alternately familiar and unknowable sound.

Josh Mason’s new collection, "Wave Salt +7," emerges from an oblique origin. Unearthed from a dormant hard drive, it documents a set of work sessions only partially recoverable, their original continuity and intent fractured by time and technical failure. What remains is a constellation of mercurial gestures that proves, against all odds, to be entirely consonant with Mason’s ongoing musical concerns.

In a sense, the very condition of partiality proves generative, with elision operating on multiple levels - structural, sonic, and archival - shaping both the music itself and the circumstances of its (re)appearance. Phrases surface only to be truncated or displaced, hovering at the edge of resolution, and transitions are implied rather than fully enacted. Absence functions not as a deficit, but as an important compositional resource.

Central to the album’s sound is a distinctive use of vocoding. Deployed not to simulate vocal presence but as a tool for tonal sculpting, it yields a shifting lattice of smeared harmonics, angular melody, and attenuated noise. Sounds are pressed through one another, their edges softened, shifted, or selectively erased, producing surfaces simultaneously articulated and porous. Rather than reconstructing a lost whole, the album posits a mode of listening attuned to gaps, interruptions, and unstable forms. Even so, in keeping with Mason’s broader practice, this music remains grounded in melodic logic and a distinctly human scale, ensuring that its fragmentary structures register not solely as experiments, but as expressions of proximity and feeling.

Take Me, I’m Yours is the first collaboration album between Alan Abrahams and Jan Jelinek. Released through the latter’s faitiche, it builds upon multi-layered vocal sketches by the former. The Paris-based artist, primarily known for his work as Portable and Bodycode, supplied Jelinek with multi-layered song sketches that the German artist subjected to a rigorous process of manipulation, excavating the ambiguities of the original material and transforming its rhythms into subtle pulses. Take Me, I’m Yours is neither a typical Abrahams record nor a classic Jelinek album—it is something third, mediating between the physicality of the voice and the abstraction of electronic sound design.

The two had crossed paths before really getting to know each other after Abrahams invited Jelinek to play at one of his Süd Electronic parties. The idea of a collaboration emerged slowly. “It started as an experiment, and over the past few years grew from a few tracks into this album,” says Abrahams. He describes recording the basic material as a “tantalizing” process, not knowing how Jelinek would transform his material, some of which was based on wordless chanting, while other tracks were working with lyrical content. However, their mutual trust allowed Jelinek to remove the harmonies, radically reduce the rhythms, and concentrate on Abrahams’ voice.

Jelinek heard something “fragile” in this voice, “moments of doubt and dark premonitions.” He points to Forever as an example. “Alan’s original song reminded me of classic vocal house, but his voice seemed to almost break,” he says. “This contradiction made the piece even bigger, because we hear a singer in the moment of an awakening.” He further accentuated such tensions through arrhythmic synth modulations and time-stretching algorithms, while also adding concrete sounds from a variety of sources. With its dedication to both transforming and amplifying the emotional qualities hidden within Abrahams’ pieces, Take Me, I’m Yours functions as a dialogue between those two singular artists.

A defining transmission in the history of Skylax Records. Originally released across different moments of the Skylax catalogue, these recordings are now assembled as the final chapter of the Skylax House Explosion series — a project exploring the architecture, memory and survival mechanisms embedded within house music culture. The record opens with Move D’s “Outer Rim 64”, originally released in 2018 as part of the Skylax House Explosion narrative. Suspended between motion and distance, the track establishes the conceptual perimeter of this final chapter — a space where rhythm no longer functions only as propulsion, but as orientation. Here the listener stands at the outer edge of the dancefloor’s architecture, where structure persists even as its original social conditions begin to disappear. The sequence continues with Hardrock Striker’s “Motorik Life (DJ Sprinkles Dub)”, originally released in 2011. Rather than operating as a conventional remix, the Dub reinforces the motorik continuum of the original composition, transforming repetition into endurance. DJ Sprinkles preserves the infrastructural skeleton of the dancefloor — its capacity to sustain bodies through duration alone, without narrative resolution or emotional release. The record culminates with “Motorik Life (DJ Sprinkles Mountain Of Despair Remix)”, one of the most politically explicit works ever associated with Skylax Records. Through the relentless repetition of the phrase “mountain of despair,” Terre Thaemlitz dismantles the traditional function of dance music, transforming remix culture into structural critique. Referencing Martin Luther King Jr.’s famous metaphor, the remix removes the promise of redemption and leaves only the architecture of struggle. The dancefloor is no longer presented as escape, but as a temporary condition of survival. Together these recordings reveal house music’s true function: not to resolve despair, but to create temporary conditions in which bodies can continue to exist despite it.

AFTER THE DANCEFLOOR

you cannot preserve a dancefloor
by archiving its sound
because the dancefloor was never sound

it was bodies
finding temporary protection
inside systems designed to erase them

house music was never a genre
it was a survival strategy

when the lights disappeared
the structures remained
and so did we

"MODEM - In itself, as a name invented for a band, it's significant. MO comes from "MOdulazione." DEM comes from ''DEModulazione'', logical functions in analog and digital transmissions. And the signal that the Bologna duo AMIN-PECK want to give us is that "Your Fun" and "Valerie" contain artistic and musical information, especially avant-garde, created in an electronic style with strong new wave tendencies, but absolutely ahead of its time. Among the Italian discos of end 70s that represented a cultural phenomenon that has remained in the collective imagination, ''Picchio Rosso'' stands out. Besides serving as an entertainment venue for thousands of young people, it served as a bridge between DJs and many talented young musicians. The discotheque was the laboratory for 4 Italo-Disco productions, all recorded at the Amin-Peck studios in Bologna, under the direction of Giancarlo Meo, who, after the successes of Easy Going and Vivien Vee and other Claudio Simonetti productions such as Capricorn and Kasso, enjoyed great esteem and prestige. This is how excellent Italo-Disco songs like "Another Song" by Music Service, "Eve of Destruction" by Vivien Vee, "Boogaboo" by The Jugglers, and "Running Straight" by Amin-Peck were born, the latter being the true musical architects of Peecker Melody, including the one-off project MODEM.. What can be said about "Your Fun" and the instrumental "Valerie"? Simple, slightly hypnotic, wellconstructed, and catchy songs. Just as the two songs were mixed by various Picchio Rosso DJs of the time--Luca Zanarini and Silver were the most legendary--Best Record has reissued them, with the same cover designed by Leonard Parker and featuring Claude Gorial, the man who 40 years ago designed the original cover and the current reissue. Same names, same success !!!"

Death Is Not The End collaborate with Uzbek label Maqom Soul to deliver an LP counterpart to last year's mixtape of the same title, compiling specially picked & fully licensed individual belters from the ex-soviet studios of Central Asian republics between 1978 and 1989 - incl. Uzbek, Tajik, Kurdish & Uyghur artists pulling traditional folk motifs together with pop & rock and psych elements.

"These recordings do not form a smooth or coherent history. They feel more like a sequence of discoveries made at different moments and in different circumstances. Songs and instrumental pieces that once lived inside specific contexts radio broadcasts, philharmonic programs, touring routes now sit side by side, revealing hidden connections as well as clear fractures between them.

Nasiba Abdullaeva appears here as a voice from the end of an era. Trained within a conservatory system, she worked inside the format of the Soviet pop song while filling it with melodic logic that did not come from Moscow or Leningrad. Her voice is soft and sustained, shaped by Eastern melisma, and it never functions as decoration. Even in tightly structured songs there is a sense of resistance, an effort to preserve a musical language rooted in Uzbek tradition rather than fully adapted to an all Union standard.

The ensemble Sintez, later renamed Navo, represents a different path. Beginning as a student rock group, the band was gradually absorbed into the official VIA system with all its limitations and compromises. Yet it was precisely within those boundaries that Sintez and Navo developed a recognizable sound. Electric guitars and jazz rock harmonies do not overpower the folk material but remain in tension with it. Their recordings feel like negotiations between what the musicians wanted to play and what they were allowed to perform.

The Tajik ensemble Gulshan reflects an institutional approach carried to a high professional level. Formed under television and radio structures, the group treated folk material almost as a written score. Carefully constructed arrangements, close attention to orchestration, and restrained use of pop techniques define their sound. There is less spontaneity here, but a strong sense of discipline and structure, where national melody becomes part of a carefully controlled sonic framework.

Koma Wetan occupies a very different space. Formed in the 1970s, this Kurdish rock group approached poetry and folklore as tools of cultural assertion. Their psychedelic rock never feels like a stylistic borrowing. Instead it functions as a contemporary vessel for language and themes that might otherwise have remained unheard. Even today these recordings sound fragile and stubborn at the same time.

The Uyghur ensemble Yashlik, closely connected to a musical drama theatre, operated somewhere between stage performance and popular music. Their songs are built on folk melodies but shaped for wide audiences. What emerges is a constant attempt to preserve the recognizability of Uyghur musical identity without freezing it in a folkloric frame. Yashlik's music exists in a state of balance between representation and development.

Digging Central Asia does not attempt to establish hierarchies or offer a single wayof listening. Names and dates matter less than the sound itself. Tape noise, abrupt transitions, and unexpected timbres remain part of the material rather than flaws to be corrected. This music existed at the crossroads of multiple routes geographic, cultural, and ideological. Heard today in a new context, it no longer feels peripheral. Instead it stands as a reminder that the history of popular music is far more fragmented, layered, and polyphonic than it is usually allowed to be."

Drawn from the wider Microliths and Momentary Drifts project, this EP finds zak�, Ossa and ASC working in miniature form with signature restraint but real emotional resonance. Each piece functions as a fleeting vignette where tone and texture carry more weight than the structures. ‘Microlith 1’ opens with soft, cascading keys, while ‘Microlith 2’ drifts further into distant, spectral territory. By the time ‘Microlith 8’ arrives, its gentle fade into static leaves a quiet sense of unresolved possibility. It is a concise, thoughtful collection that will have you keen to hear the whole LP.

After a six-year hiatus, Efdemin returns with POLY — his fifth studio album, released on the recently revived Berghain-affiliated label, Ostgut Ton.

As the title suggests, POLY explores multiplicity: of rhythm, texture, style, and emotion. Across eleven meticulously sculpted textures, the album weaves a multidimensional web of sonic references, nodding to the origins of techno while pushing resolutely into uncharted terrain. POLY feels like an afterglow—of decades on the dancefloor, of restless sonic exploration, and of a profound connection to the spaces and communities that have shaped Efdemin’s sound.

Over the course of 60 minutes we are taken through different territories and landscapes of sound. Mysterious and swirling, abstract and droning textures over at times fast and stoic rhythmic concepts. Sometimes the sunlight breaks into the opaque and mysterious soundscapes before the pulse is taken over and sucks us back straight into the club.

The overall tone of POLY is mild and playful, introvert and at times dreamy. The music is rich in sonic expression and breathes the spirit of musical concepts that have been refined over the course of decades. What Sollmann has condensed here feels like a culmination of his multilayered and polyphonic personality situated between Club, Museum, Studio and Academy.

The album cover features a striking photograph of a human ear by renowned German artist Isa Genzken. Known for her radical visual language, Genzken’s work here functions as a metaphor for deep listening. The ear symbolises the layered complexity and immersive quality of the music on POLY — an invitation to perceive sound in all its depth, fragility, and force and unlock it’s potential to unite different voices in a distorted reality.
Nach einer sechsjährigen Pause kehrt Efdemin mit POLY zurück – seinem fünften Studioalbum, das auf dem kürzlich wiederbelebten Label Ostgut Ton, dem in-house Label des Berghain erscheint.

Wie der Titel vermuten lässt, beschäftigt sich POLY mit Vielfältigkeit: von Rhythmus,Textur, Style und Emotionen. In elf Stücken webt das Album ein multidimensionales Netz aus klanglichen Referenzen, das auf zurückliegende Ansätze der Klubmusik verweist und gleichzeitig entschlossen in neues Terrain vordringt.

POLY wirkt wie ein Nachglühen – von Jahrzehnten auf der Tanzfläche, von unermüdlicher klanglicher Erkundung und von einer tiefen Verbindung zu den Räumen und Communities, die Efdemins Sound geprägt haben. Im Laufe von 60 Minuten werden die Hörer*innen durch verschiedene Territorien und Klanglandschaften geführt. Mysteriöse und wirbelnde, abstrakte und dröhnende Texturen über teilweise schnellen und stoischen rhythmischen Konzepten. Manchmal bricht das Sonnenlicht in die undurchsichtigen und geheimnisvollen Klanglandschaften ein, bevor der Puls wieder die Oberhand gewinnt und uns direkt zurück in den Klub saugt.

Der Gesamteindruck von POLY ist mild und verspielt, introvertiert und manchmal verträumt. Die Musik ist reich an klanglichem Ausdruck und atmet den Geist musikalischer Konzepte, die im Laufe von Jahrzehnten verfeinert wurden. Was Sollmann hier verdichtet hat, fühlt sich wie eine Kulmination seiner vielschichtigen und polyphonen Identität an, die sich zwischen Klub, Museum, Studio und Akademie bewegt.

Das Albumcover ziert die Nahaufnahme eines menschlichen Ohrs der renommierten deutschen Künstlerin Isa Genzken. Genzken´s Arbeit wirkt hier als Metapher für deep listening. Das Ohr symbolisiert die vielschichtige Komplexität und immersive Qualität der Musik auf POLY – eine Einladung, Klang in seiner ganzen Tiefe, Zerbrechlichkeit und Kraft wahrzunehmen und sein Potenzial zu erschließen, widerstreitende Stimmen in einer verzerrten Realität zu vereinen.

Between flesh and silicon. “Under My Skin” (2026) is the first album by IADI, released by Neo Life. A record like few
others, highly conceptual, cover art included. Its essence lies in the folds of the increasingly ambiguous relationship
between man and machine, where the former designs the latter and, perhaps without fully realizing it, is gradually
destined to adapt and be reprogrammed by it. Each track of “Under My Skin” is, in fact, a sort of interface, connector, or
any other imaginative point of contact between two creative phases, amid emotional impulses and binary calculations.
The sonic architecture oscillates between analog warmth and algorithmic coldness, constructing landscapes in which
pulsating synthesizers and mechanical rhythms seem to question each other. There's no linear narrative, but rather a
progressive immersion in a zone of near-friction, where the comfort of technology coexists with more than a faint
musical uneasiness, like a background noise that never ceases to remind you who's truly in charge. In “Under My Skin”,
the machine is neither an enemy nor a simple instrument: it's a real presence, intimate, even tactile, amplifying desires,
fears, and dreams of dawns beyond the digital realm. Intelligent dance music. Less noise, more sensations. Electronic,
but profoundly human.
The final result, then, is a music project that speaks to the present, yet sounds like an X-ray of the future, capturing that
fragile moment when humanity and technology stop observing each other from afar and begin to merge, track after
track. It's no coincidence that IADI's album opens with “Impulse”, an immediate expression of an electrical impulse, for
both humans and machines, which is also the language of the nervous system, as fast as it is vital—pure energy and
rhythm, a track as intense as it is irregular. And after this introduction, it's the turn of the equally erratic “Axon”, whose
title describes the neuron that transmits the signal over distance, telling the listener to sit back and relax for a new
journey through the notes toward the more melodic “Cortex”. The cerebral cortex, the ultimate seat of thought and
memory, becomes the source from which the musical flow of the first part of the work is drawn.
Then, suddenly, an automatic, or instinctive, response to the constant succession of impulses: “Reflex”, or zerotemperature techno, with a fragmented pace, featuring vocal samples, breaks, and restarts. In the producer's
imagination, the subsequent, and conversely placid, “Neuron” represents the emotional core of the second part of the
work, providing a kind of respite from the seething vibrations. While the neuron is the basic unit of the nervous system,
the synapse is the functional connection point between one neuron and another effector cell, essential for the
transmission of nerve impulses and communication in the nervous system, enabling functions such as learning and
movement. Likewise, a track like “Synapse” once again illuminates the path traced by IADI. The more experimental and
streamlined “Static” instead suggests true ordered chaos. “Dreamstate” is the conclusion suspended in the void, relating
to that dreamlike state between waking and sleeping, where consciousness fades toward infinity and visions begin. Pure
fading into the subconscious. Eternal return to where it all began. Dancing is a form of consciousness. Every beat is a
question. IADI, however, holds all the answers you need.

In the evolving landscape of modern Southern hip-hop, the pairing of Starlito and Bandplay stands out as a unique bridge between street-level authenticity and refined, calculated musicality. Their collaborative project, Not The Country You Know, functions less like a standard release and more as a manifesto—a masterclass in the chemistry between a seasoned, introspective lyricist and a producer who possesses an intuitive grasp of the region's pulse. It is an exploration of legacy and adaptation, capturing the tension between where they came from and where the culture is currently headed.

Bandplay, long recognized for sculpting the sonic identity of Memphis icons, brings his signature, trunk-rattling 808s to the project, yet he manages to pivot here. The production feels remarkably expansive, masterfully blending the raw, stripped-back aesthetics of classic Tennessee rap with forward-thinking textures that refuse to be confined to a single sub-genre. Complementing this, Starlito operates with his trademark mix of cynical observation and genuine vulnerability. He navigates these beats with the weary grace of an artist who has weathered the music industry's relentless cycles, treating every bar like a necessary piece of a larger, ongoing story.

The album’s title serves as a direct commentary on these shifting tides. Across the tracklist, the duo investigates the growing disparity between the romanticized South and the cold realities of the streets, alongside the inevitable evolution of the music business itself. There is no frantic chasing of streaming-era trends or algorithmic bait here; instead, the project remains a stubborn, confident assertion of artistic identity. By weaving together Starlito’s "voice-of-reason" flow and Bandplay’s evolving, genre-bending sound, Not The Country You Know challenges the listener to abandon their preconceived notions of the region, offering instead a complex, urgent vision of a South that is as haunting as it is vibrant.

Irgendwann um das Jahr 2024 tauchte Vorhex Angel scheinbar aus dem Nichts auf: keine Social-Media-Präsenz, keine Identitäten, lediglich ihr Name tauchte hier und da auf einem Flyer in Nashville oder New Orleans auf. Wer neugierig genug war, um ihre Live-Show zu besuchen, konnte mit einer Vielzahl unerwarteter Dinge konfrontiert werden, die die Sinne anregten: aufwendige Bühnenbilder, Stroboskoplichter (oder alternativ völlige Dunkelheit), brennende Gegenstände, vor dem Auftritt eingenommene Rauschmittel. Die Musik bei diesen Auftritten passte zu dem Mysterium. Sie war laut, unberechenbar und verdammt viszeral. Wenn die beiden Live-Veröffentlichungen der Gruppe und ihr Debüt ,Heavenly" tatsächlich viszeral sind (Raven Sings the Blues nannte sie ja ,Erben des Strudels von High Rise"), dann ist der Nachfolger ,Drain" sicherlich ihr intellektuelles Werk. Seine sieben Tracks führen den Hörer vom Morgen bis zur Nacht, ein weitläufiges experimentelles Doppelalbum mit überlebensgroßen Gitarrensoli, spacigen Drone-Exkursionen und Momenten von kraftvoller Intensität durch das gesamte Werk. Zum ersten Mal sehen wir, wie Vorhex Angel ihren hämmernden Klangangriff gegen stimmungsvolle und dramatischere Gefilde eintauschen. Die Band - bestehend aus den Brüdern Jake und Jamin Orrall von JEFF the Brotherhood und Kunal Prakash von Silver Synthetic - erweitert die Grenzen des Vorhex-Angel-Konzepts, lädt neue Musiker in ihren Kreis ein, geht mehr Risiken ein und erntet dafür umso mehr. ,Drain ist keine Musik, die man im Hintergrund beim Kochen laufen lässt", warnt Kunal, bevor er zwinkert: ,Vielleicht ist sie etwas für besonders abenteuerlustige Köche." Vorhex Angel verspricht, dass noch mehr kommen wird. Mehr Jams, mehr unerwartete Wendungen - allein in diesem Jahr können wir mindestens eine Tour und mindestens zwei (!) weitere Alben erwarten. Vorerst gibt es ,Drain" zu feiern, sich damit auseinanderzusetzen, damit der Hörer wie die Musik selbst ein- und ausatmen kann, mit reichlich Raum für gedankliche Kontemplation. SPA Sometime around 2024, Vorhex Angel emerged seemingly out of the ether: no social media presence, no identities, simply their name popping up in Nashville or New Orleans on a flyer here and there. Those with enough curiosity to attend their live show could be met with any number of unexpected things to spike the senses: elaborate stage dressing, strobe lights (alternatively, complete darkness), burning things, pre-performance ingestibles. The music at those functions matched the mystery. They were loud, unhinged, and visceral as all hell. If the group's two live releases and debut Heavenly are indeed visceral (Raven Sings the Blues did name them "heirs to the maelstrom of High Rise"), then followup Drain is surely their cerebral offering. Its seven tracks guide the listener from morning to night, a sprawling experimental double album with larger than life guitar solos, spaced-out drone excursions, and moments of potent intensity throughout. For the first time, we see Vorhex Angel trade their pummeling sonic onslaught for moody and more dramatic pastures. The band-revealed to be brothers Jake and Jamin Orrall of JEFF the Brotherhood and Silver Synthetic's Kunal Prakash-push the parameters of the Vorhex Angel concept outward, inviting new players into their circle, adding more risk and generating more reward. "Drain is not in-the-background cooking-type music," warns Kunal, before winking: "Maybe it is for particularly adventurous chefs." Vorhex Angel promises there will be more. More jams, more left turns-just this year, we can expect at least one tour and at least two (!) more albums. For now, there is Drain to celebrate, to sit and chew on, to allow the listener to breathe out and in like the music does, with ample room for cerebral contemplation.

Moroccan-born producer Reda Senhaji, better known under the name Cheb Runner, presents 80K, the second installment in Beat Machine’s TERRA TEMPO series. A direct tribute to the cultural heritage of the Souss Massa Darâa region, the release reactivates ancestral rhythms and translates them into a forward-looking electronic language rooted in place, memory, and physical sound.

Drawing from traditions such as Ahwach, Gnawa, and other interconnected practices from the Souss region, the EP preserves original rhythmic skeletons while reimagining them through modern production and club-oriented structures.

Across six tracks, traditional instruments and electronic elements collide fluently, where the 808 functions as a structural force rather than an accent. From the rolling pulse of Iznagn Engines and the evocative contours of Azn Oudrar to the spiritual resonance of Gn-Awa, the B-side expands the journey with the sub-heavy Afouss Adar 808, the atmospheric Tarwan Ganga, and a reinterpreted Gn-Awa by Guedra Guedra, layered with intricate textures and low-end pressure.

Moving between bass, world, and electronic territories, 80K reflects a deliberate balance between preservation and transformation. Music that carries ancestral rhythms into new listening spaces, bridging generations, cultures, and sonic worlds within a single, cohesive experience.

Música para Plátanos takes its name — and much of its inspiration — from the group’s recording studio, situated in the heart of a banana plantation on the humid north shore of Tenerife, Canary Islands. The ever-present sight of the green, sun-drenched fields surrounding their weekly sessions seeped directly into the music: improvised jams that are playful, layered, and deeply connected to place.
This release gathers a distilled selection from those sessions — a kind of “greatest rotten hits” distinct from their ongoing Imaginary Island Music volumes.
The album functions as a living archive bringing together a distilled selection of recordings spanning more than five years: from dusty, long-forgotten sessions to evolving tunes that have become staples of the band's live sets but have never before been committed to record. These long-form sessions served as a petri dish for the Lagoss sound, allowing their experiments to putrefy into their chaotic signature strain of cyber-exotica, unstable kosmische or heavily-corroded dub.
The title obvs nods to Brian Eno’s Music for Airports, but the logic is inverted. Instead of clean, ambient drift, the record inhabits a dense and fertile environment: polyrhythmic structures, Latin-infused electronics, and shifting counter-tempos that feel weighted by the local humidity.
Ultimately, Música para Plátanos is as much about the process as it is the place. Like the plantation outside, the music is subject to the elements; the tracks change shape depending on the heat of the day, what we drank, what we ate. It’s an unstable, honest harvest of sound—shaped by the weather and the state(s) of mind alike.

pdqb is an entity without a fixed form, moving through multiple timelines at once, performing in all of them simultaneously.

Every tone on this record was sampled somewhere else: in collapsed futures, unfinished pasts, and inside stress loops that never resolved. The tracks are not composed - they are retrieved, stitched together from moments that already happened and moments that haven't happened yet.

The music is unstable, dependent on who listens, and in which dimension, the tracks re-arrange themselves, revealing different harmonics, different fears, different exits. No two listeners hear the same, even if they play it at the same time.

The überskilled Detroit remixers provide a solution for Earthbound listeners - those unable to time-travel or shapeshift: By filtering pdqb's multidimensional signal through machine discipline, they force a temporary alignment - a version of a track that sounds the same to most listeners. Only then does collective rhythm become possible, a shared timeline where bodies on a dancefloor move to the same future at once.

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Dr. Paul Dominic Quentin Bernard defines Future Traumatic Stress Disorder as a cognitive condition marked by a reversal of mnemonic orientation. Memory, in this model, no longer operates retrospectively but functions prospectively, encoding anticipated survival outcomes rather than past experience. Affected subjects do not recall what has been lived through; instead, they retain anticipatory memory structures of what will be survived. Bernard notes that this temporal inversion produces sustained psychological stress and warrants further empirical investigation.

Continuum - Vol. 16.219, Peer-Reviewed Scientific Journal

Arriving twenty-six years after his debut Cell, Particle further sharpens the fractured electronics and muted melodic language explored on 2021’s From Stasis, presenting a crisper, more immediate set of compositions.

Cadoo, also widely known as a founding member of pioneering electronic project Gridlock, has used Dryft as a consistent outlet for his electronic work across decades, bridging early post-industrial IDM with more contemporary, restrained forms.

Long recognized for beat structures that feel precarious, rhythms that seem to strain, erode, and reassemble in real time, he approached Particle with a renewed focus on allowing these patterns to fully resolve. Melodic elements are given a more direct role, actively driving momentum rather than hovering in the margins.

Emphasizing clarity and immediacy, Particle favors tactile sound design and forward-pushing arrangements over density or abstraction. The result is a notably focused Dryft release that functions as an all-encompassing signpost for Cadoo’s electronic output to date, informed by decades of exploration while remaining resolutely forward-looking

Nightfall marks Maoh's first release on The Third Room, channelling a sound distilled through years of deep exploration. Four tracks evoke natural forces and instinctive motion, reshaping the dancefloor into a psychedelic, collective yet deeply personal journey driven by a relentless, precise groove. Maoh commits to a tightly defined sonic language born from tribal percussion and restrained rhythmic dynamic, creating a physical and grounded listening experience. Deeply rooted in repetition and pulse, the release remains precise in its contemporary execution, serving as a bridge capable of uniting listeners in shared momentum. As the tool-driven composition unfolds into storylines, revealing vast and unfamiliar landscapes, sparse voices surface to complete the narrative like a final breath, reminding us of the human presence within the universal expanse that the release encapsulates. Ultimately, Nightfall traces a continuous line from early collective expression to a forward-facing, technological present. Rhythm functions here as ritual and joint movement, articulated with clarity and intent.

In early 2025 Oakland-based Jerod S. Rivera released his second full length Dot-Dash, featuring a collaboration with CST co-founder Cat Lauigan and Jonathan James Carr. From the beginning we were mesmerized with the result, a perfect melding of Cat's processed spoken-word and Jerod's Buchla experimentations.

The thought of remixes presented immediately, the material extra ripe for interpolation. Enlisting friends from geographically and sonically disparate locations to present an ideal remix 12". Something for everyone, something for every setting, a tool with multiple functions...

The mysterious dub/techno/leftfield mastermind behind False Aralia dives further into territory explored on iri.gram, uptempo and dancefloor-ready in a more maximal Perlon-ish way while still embracing a half-time dub feel. Philipp Otterbach (Music from Memory, Offen, RIO) goes deeper into the guitar zone he’s been exploring, channeling Earth 2, Boris, and the like for some heavy drone. Oakland duo DJ ML and Wonja adopt their Motoko & Myers moniker (Future Times, Soda Gong), zeroing in on some choice vocal snippets that mesh perfectly with a live drum break and bassline for a Seefeel-esque version that could have come from a 90’s UK studio. Finally, Slowfoam embraces the more experimental elements of the original with a remix that starts sparse and minimal but builds into a glitchy rhythmic climax.

The 12” includes a 2-sided riso insert and a download code with access to an additional remix by close collaborator Jon Carr that twists the vocals into a throbbing industrial caucaphony.