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Fishtailing across a trimmed sod lawn, the parking lot of a box-store strip mall, a fast food drive-thru––it’s a hyperreal Americana fantasy that calls Caroline Rose (she/they) home on 'Gentling the Horse at the Walt Whitman Mall'. The release doubles as the debut of SUCK records, the LA based artist’s own imprint—a fitting next form for an enigmatic musician whose work resists settling into one shape.

'Gentling the Horse at the Walt Whitman Mall' stretches the ordinary into the uncanny. The record pairs sharply observed, memoiristic songwriting with expansive guitar textures that render the everyday with violent clarity and mythic scale. Beneath its melodic sweep and signature hooks runs a current of violence and American dream leakage.

It’s Ennio Morricone with an AR15: surf guitars, spaghetti westerns, and suburban dread colliding until they become their own sharp vernacular. Reality is unstable, so we’ll keep telling stories—and for Rose, the sinister slickness of the everyday grows a new head.

Working with producer John Congleton, Rose built the record through humor, layering, and instinct rather than polish. Songs like “Conversations with Shiv,” “Goddamn Train,” and “Everything in its Right Place” were recorded in studio for the first time, with sessions that prized first impulses over perfection. The result is panoramic but never precious—songs that feel meticulously constructed while always threatening to mutate.

Over the last six years, Rose’s music has evolved alongside their work organizing around stronger labor protections and collective bargaining rights for musicians and crews. Creative and political practice have increasingly become the same project as Rose’s career has taken on its hyper-independent form. Those concerns echo throughout 'Gentling the Horse'. Its landscapes are populated by inherited systems that feel absurd yet inescapable, where humor becomes a survival tactic and satire reveals the quiet violence embedded in everyday Am

Yr Knives is a Chicago instrumental quartet built around two very different guitar voices. The band came together sideways: composer Paul Karner wanted guitarists Andrew Trim and Brian Sulpizio to play disparate parts on a recording of his own, and when the two finally rehearsed together, a band fell into focus. Trim leads the groups Hanami and Retroreflector; Sulpizio is the constant behind Health and Beauty. Anchoring them are two Chicago mainstays, bassist Douglas McCombs (Tortoise, Eleventh Dream Day) and drummer Quin Kirchner. Two of them come up as rock and roll players, two as jazz players, and the music lives in how closely they listen across those languages.

Their debut, Begin Yr Singing, centers on two overdriven guitars merging into something neither could produce alone, over a rhythm section that can lock a groove or let it drift. The result is exploratory but grounded, "a searching music," in Trim's words, that asks questions it doesn't always answer and shifts from one performance to the next. Recorded live in a single room at Chicago's Palisade studio with Nick Broste engineering and mixed by Cooper Crain with Sulpizio, the six tracks draw on Sonny Sharrock, Neil Young and Crazy Horse, Albert Ayler, Erik Satie, and Television. The band has toured supporting The Messthetics.

Rubbermaidxxx is a recent music performance project by the Irish artist Anna McCarthy, rather than simply the title of one autonomous artwork. Rubbermaidxxx is a character or unstable identity, an emancipatory underdog with a heart for daredevilry. The project sits naturally within McCarthy’s larger practice, which moves between drawing, assemblage, happenings and collective actions.

Clad in a black balaclava and fetish climbing wear, she abseils from buildings before entering the stage. For the first performance in New York City, she was invited by Kyp Malone of TV on the Radio to perform at his club Francis Kite Club in Alphabet City, NYC and since has continued to make a name for herself hanging off façades, singing, dancing and mopping the floor together with her performance collaborators Miss Philip a.k.a. Philip Errico and Michael Tapper at Pianos NYC, Kottbusser Tor and Genezarethkirche Berlin or the Villa Stuck Museum in Munich.

The album was produced in Munich and New York in 2025 in collaboration with her brother Nick McCarthy (Franz Ferdinand) and Anton Kaun (Rumpeln). What started as a quick improv turned into a high-energy 4-hour session of the siblings playing manic ball with beats, bass, guitars and vocals resulting in what laid the basis to this album. In the weeks following, Anna McCarthy, who is known for her cut-up production style, reminiscent of albums such as White Noise or Flying Lotus, continued to develop the vocals, performance and music by mixing in an amalgam of field recordings with her narrative spoken word, including sounds of protests, dollar stores or ice-cream trucks, as well as collaborating with the noise artist Rumpeln for the last two tracks of the album.

McCarthy is also known as the lyricist and singer of What Are People For? (debut 2022 on Alien Transistor) with its dystopic dance music candy-cane shows and equally humorously critical tongue-in-cheek bangers such as Bring back the Dirt, Drones or Partytime. Anna McCarthy's spoken word, social urgency and enthusiasm to experiment across mediums is comparable to other contemporaries such as Moor Mother, Miho Hatori, Gonjasufi, Tricky, or Cibo Matto.

The name itself is telling. Rubbermaidxxx evokes elasticity, artificiality, domestic labour and the commercial world of cleaning and garbage. It suggests a body capable of stretching, absorbing filth and cleaning up after society – only to revolt against the role it has been assigned.

Rubbermaidxxx is a master of deception, juggling fact and fiction as a reflection of our times – a diamond thief, a protester, or even responsible for the Louvre heist? This album invites the listener and viewer in, playfully dismantling hierarchies and power structures as she goes through a hopeful amalgam of dance, protest & love songs.

2026 Repress
Efficient Space honours the memory of producer and MC Ali Omar with Hashish Hits, a posthumous selection from the dub rebel’s self-released discography.

One of ten children in working-class Liverpool, Omar drew deep influence from his father's Arabic heritage—a thread central to his identity and sample origins. After art school and a spell clubbing during Manchester's halcyon days, he relocated to Sydney, where he cofounded the blunted downbeat duo Atone with fellow British expatriate Andy Fitzgerald. As an MC, he infiltrated the city’s house, dub, jungle, and bass circuits, becoming a regular fixture at the Bentley Bar, where he commanded the mic with his versatile, rumbling baritone and charisma.

Freakishly talented in the studio, Omar was a pioneer of the Akai sampler and Atari, deftly recording live sessions straight to DAT. Drawing on industry insights from his sister, Merseybeat firebrand Beryl Marsden—who supported The Beatles on their final UK tour and was signed to Decca and Columbia—the non-conformist sought to build a self-sufficient business model. Between 1998 and 2004, he independently issued four albums on CD through his Hashish Studios imprint, hustling copies directly to local record stores and live shows for instant returns, even hand-sewing screen-printed hessian sleeves for his final release.

Uncompromising in his principles and refusing to suffer fools or charlatans, Omar relished the opportunity to collaborate with those who embodied the same spirit. Hashish Hits offers a snapshot of his inner sanctum—Fitzgerald on the opening track's billowing smoke stacks, the serpentine vocals of Gina Mitchell and the magic hands of mixer Louis Mitchell on 'On Release,' and Wicked Beat Sound System’s Kye on 'Poor Man Beggar Man Thief'. Meanwhile, 'Suicide Bomber' smoulders with the tension of a lost Muslimgauze relic, as the instructional 'Roll Up' and 'The Last Straw' spiral deeper into Omar’s signature production vortex— where space stretches in slow motion and walls reverberate with ricocheting delay.

A true icon of Sydney’s underground scene, the larger-than-life Omar passed away on 23 June 2009 after a valiant battle with cancer. He is remembered for his assertive spirit, larrikin humour, wild anarchic personality, and enduring mantra: “Love and live your life”.1

Polish rapper Wiktor Zapala aka Abel has been laying down albums and EPs for 20 odd years and now features on a new 7" with apparent production debutants Sheak and RareMatthew for Milkshake Mondays. He takes care of the A-side with 'Livin' Fast', a low slung and unhurried jam with elastic bass stretched between lazy, slouchy beats with storytelling and classic-era bars unfolding up top. Sheak/RareMatthew completely flip the script on the B-side with 'La Murga,' a Latin-flavoured sound with Spanish vocals over a live instrumental topped with horns and carnival atmospheres. Two equally effective tunes.

Bahamadia’s 1996 debut album Kollage is rightly regarded as one of the greatest rap albums of the 1990s. For the first time ever, Be With present the definitive double LP version of this eternal hip-hop classic, including the legendary "Path To Rhythm" which never appeared on the original LP or on vinyl, anywhere. An indelible VIBE from start-to-finish, Kollage presents Bahamadia's swirling rhymes delivered with an irresistibly butter flow and razor-sharp assuredness over a steady slew of smoothed-out, jazzed-up, blunted beats. Achingly cool and effortlessly funky throughout, it's an absolute must for true 90s hip-hop fanatics.

The entire Kollage project was recorded at D&D Studios and the ties to Gang Starr are keenly felt, with DJ Premier producing five tracks in addition to the killer songs Guru had already produced with her. Working with the cream of the mid-90s East Coast sound, Kollage is, accordingly, a record that demonstrates a varied musical taste with disparate influences, as Bahamadia has previously stated: “The title Kollage was a reflection of my state of mind. I first got interested in music from playing my parents’ and grandparents’ records, as well what I heard on the radio. I wanted Kollage to reflect that diversity both lyrically and sonically."

With intelligent, poetic lyricism and a laconic verbal style bursting with both warm texture and deceptive energy, Bahamadia’s flow was as inspired by Aretha and Nancy Wilson as it was Q-Tip, Schoolly D and Lady B. Swaggering out the gate, "WordPlay" finds Bahamadia confidently showcasing her considerable old-school battle-rhyme skills over a Guru beat that utilises an infectiously bouncy bassline with splashes of sultry jazz horns and a Jeru vocal snatch for the hook. Up next, the quietly shimmering and ruggedly beautiful "Spontaneity" is one of the most alluring on the record, Da Beatminerz crafting a brilliantly soulful and jazzy soundscape for Bahamadia's effortless vocals to float across. It's followed by "Rugged Ruff", where the rapper carefully constructs a swift off-beat flow over Premier's raw jazzy fire.

With smooth spacey synth vibes overseen by former Geto Boys producer N.O. Joe, "I Confess" is, without question, a fly love song and soothing (p)-funk groove. "UKNOWHOWWEDU" is an airy, chilled tribute to her hometown. Produced by Ski Beatz & DJ Redhanded, it rides a gloriously mellow break. It's a true Philly anthem, shouting out a who’s who of the entire city’s scene. Early banger "Total Wreck" follows, presenting a murky Guru instrumental elevated by jazzy horns. Bahamadia invokes the title's suggestion, firing her brilliant bars more aggressively than we’re accustomed to. More Beatminerz-brilliance comes in the way of "Innovation", an opportunity for the MC to invoke Freestyle Fellowship in her forward-thinking and literary verses. "Da Jawn" features hometown buddies The Roots, with Black Thought gliding into a back-and-forth with Bahamadia over ?uestlove’s warm, snapping percussion. With the strut club banger "True Honey Buns (Dat Freak Sh*t)", DJ Premier provides some laidback vibrant boom bap for Bahamadia to share a wild, cautionary tale about a night out with her girl, Kia.

Fan favourite "3 Tha Hard Way" is a hypnotically sinister cut, with Bahamadia, K-Swift and Mecca Star taking star turns to coast over DJ Premier’s raw beat whilst the tender "Biggest Part Of Me" is a heartfelt stunner dedicated to her son. Incredibly, only the European and Japanese CD versions of Kollage was released with the brilliantly breezy “Path To Rhythm”, featuring Ursula Rucker. Whilst ostensibly a "bonus track", it's anything but, to our ears. Very much in sonic conversation with KRS-One's stretched-out sleeper classic "Higher Level", it's absolutely essential so we had to include it, appearing on wax for the first time here, exclusively. Quite a coup.

Somewhat predictably, whilst Kollage was released to significant critical acclaim, it suffered from disappointing sales. In the intervening years - and for far too long - it was a criminally underrated record, an increasingly hidden gem. We hope this double LP reissue - which looks and sounds amazing - will go some way to correct this. This 2024 Be With double LP re-issue has been mastered for vinyl by Simon Francis, cut by Cicely Balston and pressed at Record Industry. It's too bold and beautiful to remain overlooked and underserved.

Back in 2022, Is It Balearic? Recordings founders Coyote (AKA long-serving producers Richard Hampson aka Ampo and Timm Sure) took time out from releasing music on their own labels to deliver a near perfect mini-album on Phil Cooper’s similarly mind-ed NuNorthern Soul imprint, Everything Moves, Nothing Rests.

A superb exploration of their trademark sound, where gentle downtempo rhythms and nods to dub came cloaked in colourful ambient chords, sun-bright melodic motifs, organic instrumenta-tion and quirky spoken word samples, Everything Moves, Nothing Rests deserved a sequel. So, three and a half years on, the duo has delivered just that: a fine six-track EP that offers an even deeper and more atmospheric exploration of their signature sound.

It is a sonic approach that should now be familiar to Balearic en-thusiasts the world over. Aside from delivering a steady stream of singles, albums and remixes on their own imprint, Hampson and Sure have also showcased their skills and loved-up musical mis-sives on International Feel, Music For Dreams, Needwant, MM Discos and Citizens of Vice.

The Higher The Sky, The Deeper The Ocean, their hotly anticipated NuNorthern Soul return, is named in honour of a quote from Ped-ro Alonso’s documentary series On the Ship of Enchantment, an extended voyage in which the Money Heist movie star meets healers and masters of ancestral medicine across his native Mexi-co.

There’s naturally a meditative and slightly psychedelic sound to much of The Higher The Sky, The Deeper The Ocean, which offers a subtly varied exploration of Coyote’s style and influence. Yearning, soft-focus opener ‘Muted Beauty’ – the kind of immersive, effects-laden and sample-sporting ambient bliss found nestling on Fila Brazillia albums of the mid 1990s – is followed by the similarly gentle ‘Go All The Way’, where delay-laden acoustic guitars, spo-ken word snippets and gaseous chords stretch out atop a languid, slow-motion groove.

‘A Drop in the Ocean’ picks up the pace a little via a glorious hat-tip to turn of the 90s ambient house – all dub-wise bass, heady deep house sonics, spaced-out chords and half-buried references to sunrise-ready Balearic synth-pop records of the late 1980s. Late psychedelic guru Terrence McKenna appears in sampled form on ‘Dolce Far Niente’, a tabla-driven drift and musical hallucination which conjures mental images of lying in the Mexican desert, gazing intently at a starry sky.

In contrast, ‘Riviera Sound’ is a chunkier, brighter and more sun-splashed affair – all deep, dubby bass, sustained piano parts, punchy downtempo breaks and the duo’s trademark ambient pads – while superb closing cut ‘No Coincidences’ fixes jazzy double bass samples, twinkling keyboard motifs, subtle acid lines and Latin-laced percussion to a street soul-adjacent beat.

Heady, impeccably crafted and thoroughly enveloping, The Higher The Sky, The Deeper The Ocean is Coyote at their dazzling best. It marks another significant chapter in their ever-evolving musical journey.

Another DINTE tape curated by cult WFMU show and blogger Bodega Pop; Gary Sullivan's long-running project rooted in a passion for digging for music in bodegas and cell-phone stores across NYC's boroughs. This edition focuses in on late 1990s and early 00s hip-hop & rnb from across Southeastern Asia.

"While on a work trip to Chicago in the mid-2000s, I was craving a bowl of pho. A bit of sleuthing led me to hop on the red line "L" up to Argyle Street, ground zero of Chicago's Little Saigon. In the 1960s, Chicago restaurateur Jimmy Wong invested in property on Argyle Street with a vision to build the city's new Chinatown, a kind of mall with pagodas, trees, and reflecting pools. In 1971, the Hip Sing Association, a labor/criminal organization, established itself in the area, and along with Wong, they bought up 80% of the buildings on a three-block stretch of the street. Wong reportedly broke both hips in an accident, leaving his dream to wither; in 1979, Charlie Soo of the Asian American Small Business Association brought it back to life.

Soo expanded the area into a vibrant mix of Chinese, Vietnamese, and other Southeast Asian businesses, pushing for renovations, including an Argyle station facelift and the Taste of Argyle festival. At the time I exited the station and crossed the street to get a better look at a shop with a poster for A Vertical Ray of the Sun in the window, the area was home to some 37,000 Vietnamese residents.

Opening the door, I was gobsmacked by a cavernous Southeast Asian media store, bigger than any I'd been to in Dallas, Montreal, New York, or Seattle. I spent some time at the bins, pulling out collections by some of my then-favorite singers — Giao Linh, Khánh Ly, Phương Dung — before approaching the register to ask the young woman behind the counter if the they carried any Vietnamese rap. It was a longshot, I knew, but if such a thing existed on physical media and anyone carried it, it would be this place.

'Have you heard Vietnamese rap?' she replied, her tone of voice and facial expression betraying a comically exaggerated level of distaste. I admitted my ignorance but assured her that I had long cultivated a high threshold for cheesy pop music of all kinds and genuinely tended to like hip hop from around the world.

She rolled her eyes and pointed to an area I had missed. I walked toward a far corner of the store and knelt over a small box on the floor sparsely populated with CDs, VCDs, and cassettes. I pulled out half a dozen Vietnamese hip hop compilations and a strange-looking CD with a cavalcade of odd typefaces in a queasy multitude of colors: THAILAND RAP HIT, it boasted, with 泰國 "燒香" 勁歌金曲 below it. The information on the back provided an address in Kuala Lumpur and the titles in Thai and English translation. The first track included three simplified Chinese characters after the English-language version of the title, "The Chinese Association": 自己人.

WTF was going on here? Walking back to the register, I waved the CD, asking "What's up with this one?" She gave me a look. I placed it on the counter so she could bask in the cover's full glory. She shrugged. "I'm guessing it's Thai rap?" She looked disappointed in me when I said I'd take it.

It turned out to be a Malaysian pressing of half-Chinese Thai hip hop artist Joey Boy's third album, Fun Fun Fun from 1996, and it completely changed my sense what the genre could sound like. The rapper's self-assured, effortless, silly-but-cool rapid-fire delivery weaved in and out of the most bizarre, antic beats I'd ever heard. The six Vietnamese hip hop CDs were a mixed bag, mostly "serious" sounding mimicry of US rapping over predictable production, but the highs were very high. When I got home and listened to it all, I made a point to find as much hip hop from this part of the world as I could.

The tracks collected here provide a limited but potent reflection of the two-decade ascendency
and ultimate world-takeover of hip hop, as it displaced rock and its endless variants for millions of listeners. This not a fair and balanced overview of regional production: I've only included tracks from Cambodia, Indonesia, Myanmar, Philippines, Thailand, and Vietnam. Nor is this a biggest or most important artists collection; instead, I've tried to recapture the pure visceral thrill of that first time I heard Joey Boy, choosing bangers that sound like nothing else, from nowhere else."

—Gary Sullivan

Open Space is proud to present our first ever full-length LP by LA’s newest 3-man band, Puli. Some words from our dear friend Matt McDermott below:

In recent years, a cadre of musicians from the east side of Los Angeles have reestablished the city of angels as the first city of Balearica. Alex Ho’s “Move Through It” followed in the lumbering footsteps of Project Sandro’s “Blazer.” Now, there’s a new landmark for the floating west coast sound. Swirling, the first album from LA supergroup Puli.

If you’ve got your ear to the ground you know the names involved here. Drummer and producer Damon Palermo’s pedigree stretches back a good 15 years or so, starting off with dub punks Mi Ami. Phil Cho is one of the busiest DJs, musicians and advocates for the deep stuff in LA, throwing legendary hillside parties under the Third Place banner. John Jones, the preternaturally talented guitarist and electronic tinkerer, records as AV Moves, is a key member of the Suzanne Kraft and Baba Stiltz live configurations and plays in The Trilogy Tapes-affiliated act Geo Rip.

But this listing of personnel and credentials puts too fine a point on it. Puli are three close friends who go to parties, DJ and get tacos together, repairing to their Chinatown studio a few times a week and coming out with remarkably textured, idiosyncratic downtempo jams. Building off the solid foundation of their 7-inch of heavyweight dubs for Melbourne’s Constant Delay, Swirling is an exploration of new horizons in chill out.

“Ramona” acts a statement of purpose—with halftime/double-time dub-tinged rhythms, hazy yet bright synth motifs and atmospheric guitar from Jones, not terribly far from the expansive approach of Japanese dub aesthetes Pecker. “Cloudy,” meanwhile, is a sort of deconstructed and bittersweet Balearic pop featuring Cho’s ethereal vocals. “Bongo Springs” is steppers’ house not far from close LA peer Benedek or the Mood Hut crew up north.

But what truly sets this record apart is the space and layers in the production—while it’s nominally an electronic record, Puli is a band that has slowly crafted these songs in the rehearsal space. “Havana Jam” cruises along a sliding roundwound bass guitar take with dubby chords and textural guitars. Palermo’s hand drums and live percussion enmesh perfectly with icy pads on “Leech Seed Dub.” Cho is back on the mic for the gorgeous closer, “C.S.B.”, underpinned by breakbeat and trunk-rattling sub bass. Puli doesn’t sound like anyone else, and is ultimately reflective of the city itself. Listening to Swirling feels like navigating a warren of side streets in the eternal sunshine. Take the drive and dive.

A full tank of gas, the gentle glow from the radio dial, & stretches of open highway await, Forever Gamblin’ On You meanders through miles of soulful AOR, funky folk, & dusty soft rock obscurities. A follow up to Sky Dust Drifter, this compilation was gleaned from American private press oddities & rarities of the 70s & 80s, all of which are seeing their first official reissues on this album. A celebration of love, rebirth, and exploration radiating like the warmth of a loved one from the passenger seat.

Featuring “Feeling The Fire”, a jazzy, AOR grooving declaration of love and desire taken from the sole release from The Mad Brother. The compilations’ title track “Forever Gamblin On You” by Petroc And Pals, features an echo-laden folk rock recollection of hard feelings delivered with swelling guitar in a mournful soft psychedelia. Angie Pepper’s “Miss You Too Much” dwells on a past love, rolling along with an effortlessly cool rhythm section, while Roy McComas croons of his manifested “angel of love” on the swirling psych folk rocker “Girl Of My Dreams”.

Forever Gamblin’ On You unfolds as a hopeful yet equally melancholic collection of nomadic anthems, primed for a memorable journey along the back roads of familiar American landscapes.

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.

The new batch from the bottomless edit archives of Danny Krivit is an uptempo, guitar-heavy excursion into two cuts of danceable rock from opposite sides of a decade.

“Marbles” originally came out late in 1970, the result of a collaboration between the fiery British guitarist John McLaughlin and drummer Buddy Miles. Miles was hot off his time with Jimi Hendrix, and producer Alan Douglas, who’d been instrumental in putting together the Band of Gypsys group, attempted another crossover combination with a brand new, blazing guitar god. Also on the date was Larry Young, an organ player best known for his expansive jazzy albums on Blue Note, and several veterans of Buddy Miles’ funk-rock combos. The resulting mixture produced in “Marbles” a powerful, driving rhythm anchoring an addictive riff that steamrolls through the cut in a fashion not unlike the motorik sound of Velvet Underground or Can. Mr. K’s edit leans heavily on the drums, naturally, with a long, tailor-made intro and a mesmerizing focus on the main riff, extending things well past the seven-minute mark.

Ten years later, the world of music was in an entirely different place but a good guitar riff coupled with a driving beat was still powerful currency on the dancefloor. This time, the group was Scottish new wave-punk group APB, whose single “Shoot You Down” had garnered unexpected peak time play in cutting edge NYC hotspots Danceteria, the Peppermint Lounge, the Ritz and the Mudd Club. “Shoot You Down” combines the urgency of the Clash with the free for all vibe that characterized the downtown scene (and throws in a chant borrowed from P-Funk for good measure). Mr. K has created a long instrumental opening that leads into the vocals, giving the tightly-wound 7-inch single a proper extended 12-inch treatment it deserved but never had before.

The sound is crisply remastered for club play, and stretched over the breadth of a 12-inch single. Both of these tracks are appearing on the long-format player for the first time.

Errands is the first duo recording from Marja Ahti, Swedish-Finnish sound artist and electroacoustic composer, and John McCowen, a native of Southern Illinois, now residing in Iceland, whose work centres on a radical exploration of clarinet multiphonics. Working without the aid of electronics, McCowen has spent years finessing performance techniques that allow him to layer beating patterns and split tones that belie their source in a monophonic instrument. Ahti, in contrast, has built up a stunning body of work in recent years using a classic electroacoustic palette of electronic, field recordings and instrumental sounds. Sharing a bill at the 2024 iteration of Stockholm’s Edition Festival, the pair discovered a sensibility shared across their different sonic means, beginning the collaborative process that would eventually result in the mercurial side-long pieces heard on Errands.

The word ‘errand’ suggests something purposeful but routine, and Ahti’s and McCowen’s work is suffused with the everyday. Meeting with McCowen to record in Iceland, Ahti used the opportunity to gather field recordings, capturing not the natural sublimity often associated with the country—think Chris Watson’s shifting glaciers—but everyday life in Reykjavik. Snatches of bustling streets and what could be humming engines thread between static sinewaves, stretches of clarinet resonances and fleeting textures, the latter often at once visceral and impossible to identify. Errands: we are a long way from the grandiose framing devices favoured by the pioneers of electroacoustic music, yet many of their principles are at work here. The gradual metamorphosis of one sound into another, the carefully achieved ambiguity between the acoustic and electronic, the treatment of the stereo field as a compositional element: all of these link Ahti and McCowen’s music to the electroacoustic tradition, yet their sensibility is radically different. The overall effect is a kind of stillness, but one at peace with continuous change. Like the unwieldy but somehow stylish everyday forms captured in the Hertta Kiiski photographs that adorn the record's sleeve, the music seems to prize a kind of deliberate awkwardness, interrupting static held textures not with an abrupt cut, but with a quick fade, suddenly revealing background as foreground.

Ahti and McCowen’s world is everyday and unornamented, but also shadowed by the numinous. Halfway through 'Chorales', we hear an arrangement for overdubbed recorders of an early motet of Messiaen’s, O sacrum convivium! Played on recorders, the piece shrinks into delicacy and dim memories of childhood music lessons, while at the same time its harmonies retain the grandeur of their liturgical origin. This double quality inflects much of what follows on Errands, including snatches of field-recorded water or air, which seem at once elemental and domestic. Enlivened with countless details that repay repeated relistening, Errands is a record that leaves the listener ready to open their ears anew to their own sound environment.

On this 5th and final part of B sides Vol 14 we have The fantastic Kaufmann who shares her ‘People are Strange’, a nod to a classic vox, re-contextualised for a modern techno audience.

Long-time industry stalwart AdamK, who makes a richly deserved Drumcode debut in partnership with Vikthor feat. MC Stretch on the stunning ‘Silence + The Sound’.

Soul Music legend Candi Staton returns to her down-home Alabama roots on her 32nd album, Back to My Roots. The twelve-track Americana set features an array of Staton-penned originals and some well-chosen covers.

"These songs represent my roots," Staton adds as she reflects on her many trials and triumphs. "Even the new songs on some level represent something I've experienced and that's what real soul music is about." Back to My Roots was produced by Staton with her second eldest son, Marcus Williams, a professional drummer who has toured with the likes of Peabo Bryson, Isaac Hayes, and Tyler Perry. They brought in Mark Nevers of Lambchop fame, who produced three of Staton’s prior Americana albums for Honest Jon’s and Thirty Tigers, to sweeten certain tracks. “Some of the first songs I ever heard were songs like `Peace in the Valley’ and `It’s Gonna Rain,’” says Staton. “The new songs or cover songs are tracks that remind me of that era when I was growing up as a child and evolving as a young woman. That’s why I named the album Back to My Roots because I’m going back to the roots that made me who I am.”

Staton received the Americana Music Association UK’s highest honour, the International Lifetime Achievement Award, at the UK Americana Music Awards ceremony at Hackney Church in London last year for her southern soul work that stretches from her 1969 Muscle Shoals hits to her more recent collaborations with the likes of Americana kings Jason Isbell and John Paul White.
The album opens with a mid-tempo Bonnie Raitt-styled contemporary blues “I Missed the Target Again” that finds Harry Connick Jr.’s longtime guitarist Jonathan DuBose Jr. (aka the Prophesying Guitarist) showing off his skills that set the tone for the song and the album.

Staton’s older sister, Maggie Staton Peebles (who alongside Staton was a member of the Jewel Gospel Trio in the 1950s), joins her for two duets. The first, “It’s Gonna Rain,” features just a drum, steel guitar and vocals. “My mother used to sing that song to us all the time when I was a child,” Staton recalls. “It’s a really soulful kind of song I wanted to revisit.” They then take turns leading Thomas Dorsey 1939 gem “There Will Be Peace in the Valley” that Elvis Presley popularized in the 1950s.

“Hang on in There” is a new, mid-tempo song that has an old school gospel flavour and features vocals from veteran bluesman, Larry McCray.
While in Europe in 2023 for her farewell concert tour that took her to the Glastonbury Festival and Love Supreme, Staton and her British band, PUSH, went into a London studio to record a new version of The Rolling Stones’ 1972 gem, “Shine A Light.” “I love the way that came out,” Staton says. “We put a big choir on it and put our own twist on it.”
From there, Staton revives another Thomas Dorsey classic, “The Lord Will Make a Way Somehow,” with a bluesy vibe. When Al Green started recording gospel in the early 1980s, he re-introduced this song into the culture.

“God’s Gonna Use Me Anyway” is a new mid-tempo blues with subtle Caribbean influences.

The mood takes a turn on “1963.” It’s a poignant, spoken-word reflection on September 15, 1963, when four black girls were killed in the Birmingham Church bombing. “I was in the city that day and I remember the chaos and horror after the bombing,” Staton recalls. “Just thinking of how racism and hatred caused those men to kill those girls was so emotional for me that I could only do it in one take.”

It's a perfect segue into "Reach Down and Touch Heaven," a haunting, plea for divine intervention into the affairs of mankind. "That's straight Baptist," she says. "I used to be a church pianist back in the 1960s. I've never played piano on one of my records before so that's a unique song for me because I’m finally playing on one of my records. The message of that song is about the homeless. It came to me when a homeless person on the street asked me for $5. When God touches your heart to help somebody else that’s heaven to God’s hears. So, when we reach into our purse or wallet to help someone, we’re touching heaven."

Staton offers love as an antidote to hate on the bouncy, Motown-styled, “Love Breakthrough.”

Her publicist brought Aaron Frazer & the Flying Stars of Brooklyn NY’s 2017 cut “My God Has a Telephone” to Staton’s attention. She shifts the track from a retro 1960s groove to more of a 1980s Malaco Records arrangement, a subtle but distinct variation. Staton brought in her longtime friend and STAX Records legend, William Bell (“I Forgot to Be Your Lover” and “Trying to Love Two”), to add raspy seasoning to the track.

The album closes with the wistful, “In God’s Hands We Rest Untroubled,” that was originally written and recorded by the late country star, Lari White, who died in 2017 at the age of 52. “Lari sent me that song to consider at least ten years ago and I always loved it,” Staton says. “The record label didn’t want it on the album or something, so I just held it.”
Staton says, “I grew up hearing a lot of these old songs when they were new songs. I toured with the Jewel Gospel Trio in the 1950s and we got to know people like Mahalia Jackson, Sam Cooke and others who sang these types of songs. So, I’m sort of paying tribute to them and the influence they had on me by refreshing these songs and making new songs in the old style.”’

"Motorway City" is a superb, driving-based collection of library music. The tracks on this album were all written between the mid-60s and the early 80s to hymn car travel, back when the petrol-operated motor car was seen as the transport mode of the future, when motorways were new and thrilling. It was car travel’s golden age.
The tracks are highly collectable rarities from the libraries of De Wolfe, Chappell and Hudson. It has been compiled by Bob Stanley of Saint Etienne who has also written the informative sleevenotes. It stretches from mod movers to proto-ambient, something for every car journey.

Library music soundtracked the many short films that extolled the virtues of TopTray restaurant at Watford Gap or the comfortable leather seats in an Alpine Sunbeam. These tunes illuminated the joys of motor travel, and were given titles such as ‘Fast Lane’, ‘Super City’ and ‘Clearway’.
Many of these tracks seem time specific. The sun peeks over the horizon for Basil Kirchin’s ‘Through New Territory’; Reg Tilsley’s ‘Hold The Road’ is so bright at midday that you’ll need to wear shades to stop the sun getting in your eyes; John Fiddy’s ‘City Skyline’ has to be seen (and heard) at dusk.

Ex-Soft Machine Karl Jenkins provides the tense ‘Wheeling’, and Peter Reno’s thunderous ‘Convoy’ shifts the mood up a gear. Maybe you should risk nudging the speed up, 80-plus, to the soundtrack of Alan Hawkshaw’s ‘Fuel Injection’ or Simon Park’s mellow-but-dynamic ‘Big Road’.
Beautifully packaged in a gatefold sleeve, "Motorway City" could be the soundtrack to your summer holiday.

Drumcode returns with its flagship A-Sides series, led by a huge new Adam Beyer single that highlights the 20-track compilation.

If you want a snapshot of techno in any given year, look no further than Drumcode’s annual A-Sides compilation. The release broadly charts the evolution of the genre, while giving a platform to standout demo’s Adam Beyer has received across the course of the year with many emerging artists finding their music on Drumcode for the first time. Case in point – Wehbba, Charles D and Raxon who all debuted on the label via a track on the A-Sides series and have gone on to become regular contributors to Beyer’s influential labels.

This year’s compilation features an exciting mix of established heavy-hitters, alongside a slew of new faces set to make their mark on the genre. ‘We Don’t Say Please’ – is emblematic of Adam Beyer’s sound in 2025 – fresh, experimental and thriving on cross-genre pollinations, as elements of bass music, rap and techno collide, underpinned by a distinctive UK vocal. The results are inspiring.

Elsewhere, the 20-track compilation brims with highlights. HI-LO’s ‘NYC to Amsterdam’ has inflections of New York house fused with driving techno elements. Nicole Moudaber returns to DC in cahoots with the rising ZLATA for the super-charged ‘Report to the Dancefloor’. Oscar L & Charles D mint a new collaborative partnership with the immersive, spacey cut ‘Lift Me Up’. LUSU continue their red-hot run following the recent ‘Move 2 the Groove’ EP, and craft a straight-up mind-mashing single ‘LIKE THIS’. Mark Reeve is in trademark strong form with hypnotic ‘My Mind’, which comes to life via a massive synth led. The fantastic Kaufmann shares her ‘People are Strange’, a nod to a classic vox, re-contextualised for a modern techno audience.

As is tradition, a troupe of ascendant producers land on Drumcode for the first time. They include Uruguay’s Enzo Monza, who delivers the crisp ‘Late Night’ – a favourite of Beyer’s; Mattia Saviola, whose ‘Parallel Dimension’ is a powerful cut with fantastic sound design; Romanian artist Tao Andra, who shares the celestial ‘Unity’; and long-time industry stalwart AdamK, who makes a richly deserved Drumcode debut in partnership with Vikthor feat. MC Stretch on the stunning ‘Silence + The Sound’.

Drumcode returns with its flagship A-Sides series, led by a huge new Adam Beyer single that highlights the 20-track compilation.

If you want a snapshot of techno in any given year, look no further than Drumcode’s annual A-Sides compilation. The release broadly charts the evolution of the genre, while giving a platform to standout demo’s Adam Beyer has received across the course of the year with many emerging artists finding their music on Drumcode for the first time. Case in point – Wehbba, Charles D and Raxon who all debuted on the label via a track on the A-Sides series and have gone on to become regular contributors to Beyer’s influential labels.

This year’s compilation features an exciting mix of established heavy-hitters, alongside a slew of new faces set to make their mark on the genre. ‘We Don’t Say Please’ – is emblematic of Adam Beyer’s sound in 2025 – fresh, experimental and thriving on cross-genre pollinations, as elements of bass music, rap and techno collide, underpinned by a distinctive UK vocal. The results are inspiring.

Elsewhere, the 20-track compilation brims with highlights. HI-LO’s ‘NYC to Amsterdam’ has inflections of New York house fused with driving techno elements. Nicole Moudaber returns to DC in cahoots with the rising ZLATA for the super-charged ‘Report to the Dancefloor’. Oscar L & Charles D mint a new collaborative partnership with the immersive, spacey cut ‘Lift Me Up’. LUSU continue their red-hot run following the recent ‘Move 2 the Groove’ EP, and craft a straight-up mind-mashing single ‘LIKE THIS’. Mark Reeve is in trademark strong form with hypnotic ‘My Mind’, which comes to life via a massive synth led. The fantastic Kaufmann shares her ‘People are Strange’, a nod to a classic vox, re-contextualised for a modern techno audience.

As is tradition, a troupe of ascendant producers land on Drumcode for the first time. They include Uruguay’s Enzo Monza, who delivers the crisp ‘Late Night’ – a favourite of Beyer’s; Mattia Saviola, whose ‘Parallel Dimension’ is a powerful cut with fantastic sound design; Romanian artist Tao Andra, who shares the celestial ‘Unity’; and long-time industry stalwart AdamK, who makes a richly deserved Drumcode debut in partnership with Vikthor feat. MC Stretch on the stunning ‘Silence + The Sound’.

Strut Records highlights a landmark in British jazz-rock with Second Wind, the 1972 album from keyboard visionary Brian Auger and his powerhouse group Oblivion Express. Capturing a fully matured lineup, the record finds Auger expanding his fusion language - bridging jazz sophistication, funk-driven rhythm, and soul-infused songwriting with the clarity and fire that defined his early ’70s work.

Though Auger’s roots lie in the lineage of hard-swinging jazz organ and the improvisational fire of the ’60s British scene, he has never been an artist content with tradition. With Second Wind, he moves further into a hybrid language that fuses rhythm with harmonic depth and groove, without sacrificing sophistication. His playing is expansive yet precise, translating the electricity of live performance into a studio work that breathes with immediacy.

At the heart of this era of Oblivion Express is the telepathic rapport among its members. Vocalist Alex Ligertwood (in one of his earliest major recordings before Santana fame) brings a soulful intensity that feels both grounded and forward- looking. Second Wind contains tracks that have become deeply significant in Auger’s discography - original compositions Second Wind, and Truth to name a few - but it was Auger's high octane revisioning of Eddie Harris' Freedom Jazz Dance, (adding new lyrics to the original instrumental) that genuinely broke barriers. The track became a DJ friendly classic and highlighted the groups deeply original approach.

The rhythm section of Barry Dean and Robbie McIntosh balances weight and fluidity, giving Auger the space to stretch across Hammond organ, Rhodes, and keys with characteristic boldness. Their collective sound is one of seamless motion: jazz-inflected lines swelling into rock-driven crescendos, funk-leaning grooves locking with vocal hooks, moments of quiet clarity emerging between bursts of improvisation.

Second Wind stands as a pivotal moment in Auger’s discography: a record that bridges the exploratory spirit of his earlier projects with the more groove-oriented approach that would soon bring international attention. More than five decades later, it remains a vivid document of a band carving out its own language. Music born of instinct, collaboration, and a restless desire to push beyond the expected.

A warm breeze drifts through the open cabin of the boat, carrying the scent of salt and sunwarmed teak as it stirs the linen curtains. The man moves easily, bare feet against the wooden floor, the slow rhythm of the harbor rocking beneath him. He flips through his records with a knowing touch, pulling out a favorite—something smooth and mellow, with buttery vocals and melodies that drift like a sailboat on calm waters. The needle drops, and honeyed guitar riffs spill into the air, effortless and sunlit. He reaches for the bottle of rum, the ice in his glass chiming softly as he pours, then adds a squeeze of lime, a lazy stir. Outside, the water glows in the last light of day, golden ripples stretching toward the horizon. He leans back against the cushioned bench, drink in hand, the music swirling around him like the evening breeze—unhurried, weightless, exactly where he wants to be.


Small Talk brings together a carefully curated selection of long-forgotten, yet remarkably smooth and captivating soft rock and AOR tracks from the ‘70s and ‘80s, compiled by Brandon McMahon. These lesser-known songs are drenched in lush harmonies, dreamy guitar riffs, and mellow rhythms, capturing the essence of an era without the mainstream recognition. For those with an ear for the obscure and a taste for the subtle, Small Talk offers a fresh perspective on an era’s most overlooked gems.

With their EP triptych "Thee Church Ov Acid House Volume 1–3," Oliver Bradford and Jörn Elling Wuttke created a holy trinity of diverse dancefloor variations, a self-contained circle of rave history.

In itself already a heavyweight statement, which they now crowned with “Bells & Whistles - Thee Remixes”. So to speak the quadrature of the circle And as with their original material, this release also reveals a profound knowledge of dance history in the selection of remixers - combined with the best of the here and now.

A1:
The trip begins with Jamie Hodges' ( Born Under A Rhyming Planet ) version of “Acid House Planet”. Hodge was responsible for a number of legendary EPs on Richie Hawtin's Plus 8 label in the early 90s, which explored the deep poetry of techno music. In this sense his remix is also a delicate affair of rarely heard beauty.

A2:
There's Thee Church Ov Acid House themselves, who stretch the swinging groove of Tyson's “G Phunk”, far too short in the original, to almost six minutes. A groove that won't stop.

B1:
And that brings us to the next two legends, this time from the local area. D-Man and Move-D have had a significant influence on dancefloor culture between Heidelberg and Mannheim since its inception. Their lysergic “Theme” remix, with Terrence McKenna vocals and acid twist in the middle, is an epic open air classic to come.

B2:
Lennard Poschmann's aka O-Wells' version of “Rave Mantra”, on the other hand, is deep, digging bass techno for the darkest moments of the night.

Vinyl EP2 featuring remixes of Man Power, As One ( Kirk Degiorgio ), HRDVSION ( Nathan Jonson ), Cosmic Cars ( Pudel Produkte, Smallville, Bureau B )

"Amazing! Like stumbling on a treasure-trove of unheard Charlie Patton and Blind Willie McTell 78s, but imbued with the spirit of Mahlathini and Ladysmith." Joe Boyd

'But for this compilation of rescued songs masterfully restored from rare 78 rpm shellacs, few could imagine the diversely beautiful roots of Zulu Guitar Music emerging during the period 1950 – 1965. Story-tellers and master musicians appropriate outlaw personae, re-purpose country and western, Hawaiian and other styles, to stretch and challenge our notion of “the Zulu guitar”.

Twenty-five songs (18 on vinyl) plunge us into the depths of the migrant experience. Translations in the liner notes offer us glimpses of pugnacity, melancholy and heartache, all coloured by the paternalism that circumscribed the singers’ apartheid-dominated lives.

The early *mbaqanga* undertow in many of the songs subverts the wanderlust of Country and Western music into a fugitivity burdened by nostalgia. Something irretrievable has been lost, prompting a blending of ideas and cultures to make sense through thankless acts of musical divination. Inadvertently they have been thrust into the role of the antihero, where outwitting competition for lovers is as important as evading the Black Jacks (apartheid’s municipal cops) and their informants.

Considering the politically repressive period that this music emerges from, we can surmise that the specificity in the storytelling went a long way towards evading censure. But even when words are absent, there is a narrative arc suggested by the musical expression.

With most of the master tapes wilfully destroyed or lost, modern transcription and restoration techniques from the original shellac discs present the original sound most likely more clearly than ever heard before.'

Produced for reissue by Chris Albertyn and Matt Temple at Matsuli Music and Siemon Allen at Flatinternational.
Artwork design by Siemon Allen.
Liner note and translations by Kwanele Sosibo.
Audio restoration and lacquers by Frank Merritt at The Carvery and pressed at Pallas, Germany.
Original 78rpm recordings sourced from the collections of Chris Albertyn at Matsuli Music, and Siemon Allen at the Flatinternational Archive.

Listen to This.” As the original working title for Bitches Brew, the instruction and invitation remains to this day as the best way to approach a record that shattered conventions, altered music history, and, 55 years later, still sounds far ahead of its time. The template for jazz fusion, Bitches Brew is rightly ranked by virtually every significant outlet among the 100 greatest albums ever made. Sewn together with vibrant colors, voodoo textures, and ethereal moods, the 1970 landmark emerges with supreme detail and nonpareil feeling on Mobile Fidelity’s UltraDisc One-Step 180g 33RPM 2LP vinyl set.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, this definitive-sounding 55th anniversary reissue enhances every element of a double album that established new possibilities for studio recording techniques. You’ll hear wide and deep soundstages, separation between instruments, and an extremely broad dynamic range. If ever a jazz album can be said to have gone to outer space and back, this is it.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, this definitive-sounding 55th anniversary reissue enhances every element of a double album that established new possibilities for studio recording techniques. You’ll hear wide and deep soundstages, separation between instruments, and an extremely broad dynamic range. If ever a jazz album can be said to have gone to outer space and back, this is it.

Davis conceived Bitches Brew by having the musicians stand in a semi-circle. There, he pointed at them with vague directions for tempo, solos, and cues. The collective improvisation and interplay spawned a galaxy of melodies and grooves that were later spliced together by producer Ted Macero. Benefitting from the ultra-low noise floor and superb groove definition of this pressing, these distinct creations take shape with utmost realism. Compositions stretch across jet-black backgrounds and paint canvases laden with millions of colors and shades. Juxtaposed percussion, loose jams, and melodic segues explode with impressionistic verve.

Bitches Brew also boasts visionary artwork. By design, the lavish packaging and gorgeous presentation of the UD1S Bitches Brew set call attention to such matters. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, it features special foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. It is made for discerning listeners who desire to fully immerse themselves in everything surrounding the album, from the images to the tones. And this is one effort where every last detail matters.

Gathering a Hall of Fame-worthy lineup of musicians and tweaking it according to his desires, Davis follows through on his idea to “put together the greatest rock and roll band you ever heard.” Central to his proposition is the presence of two (and sometimes three) drummers and two bassists, a tactical move that makes rhythms a central focus. Akin to the futuristic album cover art, the drum-driven suites head toward distant universes and uncharted territories. At once hypnotizing and grooving, they chart maverick adventures via quixotic rock, funk, and R&B elements.

A without-a-net experiment involving interchangeable double-quintet lineups, Bitches Brew explores the previously unimaginable with electrified instruments — Fender Rhodes piano, processed trumpet, dissonant guitars, and bass among them — and an emphasis on feeling over composition. Mesmerizing and soothing, jarring and smooth, overt and subtle: The music seemingly covers an entire map of emotions and sensations, and like no record before, ties together the groundbreaking creativity of the multiple disciplines that were changing popular culture at the end of the 1960s and dawn of a new decade.

Conceptually, Davis described Bitches Brew as “a novel without words” and “an incredible journey of pain, joy, sorrow, hate, passion, and love.” The vast psychedelic expanses of warped echoes, liquid reverb, and tape loops confirm such ambitious contrasts of light and dark, fear and hope. Yet the most absolute characteristic of the watershed effort lies in how it resists definitive interpretation and encourages free thought — the very principles Davis used to conceive Bitches Brew.

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.

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.

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.

When Creed Taylor was setting up his CTI label one of his proposed signings was Billy Vera. This led to a deal for Vera’s younger sister Kathy McCord. In fact, McCord was the first artist signed and recorded by CTI. Her debut, “Kathy McCord” was released in 1970.

Although the label would go on to establish a fine reputation in jazz, “Kathy McCord” was a folk rock album. A gifted young poet the 17-year old McCord wrote many of the tracks on the album which were then interpreted in the studio by a crack team of jazz musicians that included Harvey Brooks (bass), Hubert Laws (flute), John Hall (guitar) and Wells Kelly and Ed Shaugnessy (drums). Musically and lyrically both the musicians and McCord stretched out on tracks like ‘Rainbow Ride’, ‘Jennipher’, ‘Candle Waxing’ and ‘Take Away This Pain’ to conjure up an amazing fusion of folk and jazz. The only cover on show was a version of Lennon and McCartney’s ‘She’s Leaving Home’ which McCord repurposed as ‘I’m Leaving Home’.

Upon release the album sold poorly. Creed’s expertise and contacts were in the jazz field and he had no idea how to market an album of folk jazz songs sung with fragile beauty by a good looking girl still in her late teenage years. Also, when Billy Vera did not sign to CTI McCord was dropped.

Over time “Kathy McCord” attracted a dedicated following amongst folk-rock collectors in America and the UK. In many respects it was an echo of something like Deena Webster’s 1968 folk rock LP, “Tuesday’s Child” that also came, went and is now sought after.

Ace are delighted to give the world the first vinyl reissue of “Kathy McCord” since 1970. Pressed on black 180gm vinyl it also includes liner notes from Billy Vera - who has this to say about his late beloved sister: “My sister had the goods. She could sing, she could write and she looked great. Like so many other talented people, she just failed to get lucky. Listen and enjoy her. I love her stuff”. You will too...

Unbound by place or genre, mercurial, experimental pop duo Soft as Snow find freedom to intuitively reflect the disarray of human connection with their intricate, shape-shifting pop production. With each successive release, the duo evolves, unfurling into their own poetic sound, now fully realized on their intimate, third full-length, Metal.wet.

The oft-present trappings of male-female duos are eschewed here as the Berlin-based Oda Starheim and Øystein Monsen contribute equally across a canvas of analogue synthesizers, samplers, live drums, and processed guitars. At once a part of and yet apart from the zeitgeist, their forward-thinking modernity stretches the limits of expectations across Metal.wet's ten insouciant tracks. Fans of Tirzah, Hype Williams, and even Angelo Badalamenti will find much to love in this haunting work peppered with ASMR moments and rough sampling wrapped in high production –– twinkling glasses and sirens in the distance, rhythms and voices up front. The result is synth-driven, noisy, and dripping with laidback, confident sensuality.

Although Starheim's voice begins the album in a whisper, it quickly becomes apparent that the group has jettisoned their previous tendency to bury and distort her vocals. Nested in a bed of thorny electronics and broken rhythms, her multifaceted vocals might bring to mind Kazu Makino of Blonde Redhead or Hope Sandoval fronting Massive Attack. London MC Brother May (Mica Levi, CURL) makes an appearance on the driving and ethereal “Whip,” while Øystein’s own voice appears for the first time in a state of languid background haze.

Soft as Snow create and record across Europe. Defiantly averse to genre, the pair become vessels for their “electronic music pushed to the brink of collapse” (The Wire), previously released by Infinite Machine and Houndstooth. Informed by backgrounds in film and performance art, “there’s a surrealism that comes with watching Soft as Snow in the flesh,” (Vice) as seen at L.E.V. and Lunchmeat Festivals. Collaborations with visual artist Guynoid, designer AGF Hydra, and sculptor Camilla Steinum add depth to the corporeality of their “strange, mesmerising and utterly unforgettable” electronic experimentations. (DJ Mag).

Charlie Parker had a complicated relationship with his hometown of Kansas City, MO owing both to its history of racial segregation and to his strong ties to his family and friends there. This new set of rare recordings dating from 1941–1951 — most of them never having been heard before and some never even having been known to exist — chronicle Bird’s evolution from a blossoming soloist with the Jay McShann Band into a brilliant improviser who dominated the jazz landscape for decades to come. In addition to two unreleased 78s with the McShann band, this set offers two sets of private recordings (at the home of Bird’s friend Phil Baxter and at Vic Damon’s studio) made with local musicians and a very relaxed-sounding Parker who has the room to really stretch out and show us the shape of jazz that was to come in his wake.

Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time is a portal into somatic chiaroscuro, aglow with the embers of imperfect memories and smudged with the plumes of internal echoes, which augment in vast, mercurial dimensions. For his third album on RVNG Intl., the British cellist, composer and producer offers a capsule of personal resonance and remembrance, assembled over the past six years. Throb, shiver, arrow of time traces the familiar metallic anatomy and viscous string modulations of his 2020 release skins n slime, while recentering his inner compulsions following a procession of lauded score writing projects, including the films Aftersun (Charlotte Wells, 2022), The Stranger (Thomas M Wright, 2022) and Occupied City (Steve McQueen, 2023). While working on Aftersun, Wells asked Coates how music could signal that someone is going on a trawl through their memory_a question that has stayed with him ever since and fosters a heartbeat running through the record. Throb, shiver, arrow of time is "all about inaccurate transmissions from our memories, overlaid with emotions from other sources," says Coates. The release is imbued with the ache and glow of recollections mulched together, where the guttural dissonance of misremembering is shrouded by strange orbs of sentiment. At the record's inner core is "Shopping centre curfew," a swift yet cavernous track that emerged five years ago when two real world events, both occurring in South London during the pandemic lockdowns, became fused in a dream: the demolition of Elephant and Castle shopping center, and the discussion of a curfew as a real possibility for all men following a violent crime. A strange simultaneity occurred with this piece of music and Coates built the album out from there, a sense of temporal entropy refracting shimmers of lurking convulsions into lucid sonic topologies. The ten compositions of Throb, shiver, arrow of time find weightless melodies soaring across after-image gradients, magnified and compressed. Misted tones within "Please be normal" and "90" soften drone-soaked shudders of inner acoustics messing up. Vocal invocations appear from long-term collaborators Malibu and chrysanthemum bear, as well as drifting synth radiance from Faten Kanaan. Throb, shiver, arrow of time furthers Coates' reach in collapsing the digital into the analogue and vice versa, allowing serendipity to reorganize the material and push out against the confines of flatness. This sculptural approach to sound is deeply influenced by the intricate installations of artist Sarah Sze, whose permutations of visual matter with its own after-image form kaleidoscopic epitaphs for ephemera and emotion. Coates' thinking about Sze's work and processes flowed together with his own playing and editing techniques, superimposing the textural relief of a live take back into a composition, and allowing the sound to succumb to a dream of itself. As Coates expands, "The cello is a kind of melancholic instrument with a light ethereal spirit. When the sound is flattened into digital processes, with shifted frequencies and time stretching I'm trying to give it even more of those qualities. Sometimes I'm distancing myself from it, so it becomes a piece of discarded debris that has soul in it, a down-sampling. Or other times, it's trying to maximize the present tense in the act of playing, and collapse that vivid color into a burnished, photocopied kind of sound. So the music acts like weather, weathering the listener, or as flames licking at the sides of objects." As the record unfurls, the compositions swell in duration, until the granular glimmers of its finale "Make it happen" persist in almost violent delight. "There's a feeling of not wanting to let this album go, trying to defy the extinguishing sound at the end of the music, trying to push the colors beyond the confines of the structure, to defeat the silence." In the scramble to resist denouement, Coates suspends the arrow of time in its eternal flight, just for a moment, to reveal the solace of the dust settling in the afterglow. Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time will be released on vinyl, Japanese import CD, and digital editions on October 18, 2024. On behalf of Oliver and RVNG Intl., a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit The Traditional Music and Song Association of Scotland, an organization fostering opportunities for people of all ages to participate in the traditional music and culture of Scotland.

‘What makes Sex Swing so powerful is that they transcend the limitations of rock music. Their sound is so full of possibilities, violence, sexuality, sacrifice, even religion. If there was a future to look forward to for heavy guitar music, this is it’ The Quietus The locals call it Sop Ruak – eighty thousand square miles of mountains and mystery and unholy medicine. “It really is an endless seam of activity,” Sex Swing frontman Dan Chandler explains of Golden Triangle – both the title of their new album and the region between Myanmar, Thailand and Laos that inspired it. To know this contradictory corner of the world is to understand fully why the cult-beloved noise-rock artisans turned to it when writing their hotly-anticipated third full-length. The real-life Golden Triangle is a groundswell of both natural wonder and drug production, and who combines beauty and narcotic brutality better than Sex Swing? For a decade now, this
collective of revered UK underground musicians, comprising members of Earth, Mugstar, The Keep and Jaaw, have been pulling audiences into drug- like slipstreams with their alchemy of pummelling rhythms, towering guitars, and unrelenting saxophone through which glimmers of light occasionally pierce through. No wonder their Golden Triangle is an album telling distortion-shrouded tales from one of the most storied, enigmatic places on the planet, with enough invention within to fill eighty thousand miles and more.
Where does this violent, hypnotic aural travelogue take you within the Sop Ruak? The seven tracks that make up The Golden Triangle see the band – completed by bassist Jason Stoll, drummer Stuart Bell, guitarist Jodie Cox, synthesist/guitarist Oli Knowles and saxophonist Colin Webster – adventure first to ‘The Confluence of the Ruak and Mekong Rivers,’ full of shimmering orchestration and feather-light ambience. Then come stops in ‘Myawaddy’, named after a small town embroiled in bloodshed on the border of Myanmar
and Thailand, and ‘Boten, Route 13’ – sparked by stories of a seemingly endless stretch of road from Laos into China. Before long, listeners are plunged into ‘Hpakant’, one of the album’s most invigorating and singular moments, lyrically inspired by a jade mine in Myanmar, where the spoils of forced labour are exchanged for prostitution and methanphetamine. The result is a mesmerising slow-burn of sax, snaking rhythms and sinister spoken word courtesy of the Scottish-born Bruce McClure, who “took the theme and turned it into a sci-fi story of exploitation and vice,” explains the frontman. It’s a track that, like the rest of Golden Triangle, underlines the evolution Sex Swing have undertaken since forming in 2014. From the raw and primitive sounds of the self-titled debut full-length, followed up by the coruscatingType II in 2020. Sex Swing’s third effort retains those early primitive elements and adds layers of structure and complexity. Golden Triangle initial formation was that of programmed beats and bedroom recordings shared electronically in the height of the pandemic. Those ideas were then completed during intensive writing sessions at a secluded farm in Oxfordshire.
Album credits consist of recording by Stanley Gravett at Holy Mountain Studios in Hackney, mixing by Wayne Adams at Bear Bites Horse, mastering from James Plotkin, and the continued aesthetic collaboration with artist Alex Bunn. Golden Triangle bristles with a rawness familiar to fans of the British sonic punishers, but adds new elements indicative of a group never resting on their laurels or sitting in one place. Why would they, after all? There’s an entire world of mountains and mystery and unholy medicine out there to be explored. The Golden Triangle, it seems, is just the beginning.

‘What makes Sex Swing so powerful is that they transcend the limitations of rock music. Their sound is so full of possibilities, violence, sexuality, sacrifice, even religion. If there was a future to look forward to for heavy guitar music, this is it’ The Quietus The locals call it Sop Ruak – eighty thousand square miles of mountains and mystery and unholy medicine. “It really is an endless seam of activity,” Sex Swing frontman Dan Chandler explains of Golden Triangle – both the title of their new album and the region between Myanmar, Thailand and Laos that inspired it. To know this contradictory corner of the world is to understand fully why the cult-beloved noise-rock artisans turned to it when writing their hotly-anticipated third full-length. The real-life Golden Triangle is a groundswell of both natural wonder and drug production, and who combines beauty and narcotic brutality better than Sex Swing? For a decade now, this
collective of revered UK underground musicians, comprising members of Earth, Mugstar, The Keep and Jaaw, have been pulling audiences into drug- like slipstreams with their alchemy of pummelling rhythms, towering guitars, and unrelenting saxophone through which glimmers of light occasionally pierce through. No wonder their Golden Triangle is an album telling distortion-shrouded tales from one of the most storied, enigmatic places on the planet, with enough invention within to fill eighty thousand miles and more.
Where does this violent, hypnotic aural travelogue take you within the Sop Ruak? The seven tracks that make up The Golden Triangle see the band – completed by bassist Jason Stoll, drummer Stuart Bell, guitarist Jodie Cox, synthesist/guitarist Oli Knowles and saxophonist Colin Webster – adventure first to ‘The Confluence of the Ruak and Mekong Rivers,’ full of shimmering orchestration and feather-light ambience. Then come stops in ‘Myawaddy’, named after a small town embroiled in bloodshed on the border of Myanmar
and Thailand, and ‘Boten, Route 13’ – sparked by stories of a seemingly endless stretch of road from Laos into China. Before long, listeners are plunged into ‘Hpakant’, one of the album’s most invigorating and singular moments, lyrically inspired by a jade mine in Myanmar, where the spoils of forced labour are exchanged for prostitution and methanphetamine. The result is a mesmerising slow-burn of sax, snaking rhythms and sinister spoken word courtesy of the Scottish-born Bruce McClure, who “took the theme and turned it into a sci-fi story of exploitation and vice,” explains the frontman. It’s a track that, like the rest of Golden Triangle, underlines the evolution Sex Swing have undertaken since forming in 2014. From the raw and primitive sounds of the self-titled debut full-length, followed up by the coruscatingType II in 2020. Sex Swing’s third effort retains those early primitive elements and adds layers of structure and complexity. Golden Triangle initial formation was that of programmed beats and bedroom recordings shared electronically in the height of the pandemic. Those ideas were then completed during intensive writing sessions at a secluded farm in Oxfordshire.
Album credits consist of recording by Stanley Gravett at Holy Mountain Studios in Hackney, mixing by Wayne Adams at Bear Bites Horse, mastering from James Plotkin, and the continued aesthetic collaboration with artist Alex Bunn. Golden Triangle bristles with a rawness familiar to fans of the British sonic punishers, but adds new elements indicative of a group never resting on their laurels or sitting in one place. Why would they, after all? There’s an entire world of mountains and mystery and unholy medicine out there to be explored. The Golden Triangle, it seems, is just the beginning.

Eight years since the breathtaking Somewhere Anywhere EP, The Mad Walls return to re-ignite psych rock with this gorgeous, floatily heavy, effortlessly groovy and sublimely sinuous debut LP. Driven by bone shaking acoustic guitar, visceral drums, wonderfully trippy basslines and the throwaway perfection of Christopher Mercado’s spooked vocals. Pure rock n’ roll yet devoid of cliché. Informed by, but no way in hock to, early MC5, Skip Spence, Sonic Youth, Syd Barrett and Jefferson Airplane when they still all lived together.
Recorded on tape in Mercado’s garage, there’s a DIY heart with epic results across sixteen songs. Only one track over three minutes and some under thirty seconds. “It’s just chatter about life and human feelings. Stylized human expression”. - Is Christopher's self effacing explanation of his mind bending, playful, storytelling. It opens with the walloping drum canter/bass attack of WHO WANTS TO DIE FOR RELIGION. Passes through the furious distorted acoustic guitar solo on I TELL YOU HOW I FEEL. The woozy, elastic time-stretching of COOL TRIPPER. The brief, funky lurch of IN YOUR DREAM YOU ARE NO ONE. The almost lush, cinematic SEVEN DAYS which conjures Serge Gainsbourg by way of Moby Grape. HIP COMMA’s floaty strut and the groovy raga of MAKA THE NATIVE, which has not one but two ‘breath solos’. CLOUDS OF DUST is a skeletal Krautrock fragment and THERE ONLY IS a luminous psych-pop single. Final track APPLES ends the album with a sinewy twelve bar blues and a killer psych guitar break. Bliss.
Somehow the MAD WALLS manage woozily florid and sharp as a blade. Studiedly detailed but effortless. Whip smart and dumb. And as we said at the start - just gorgeous…

Eight years since the breathtaking Somewhere Anywhere EP, The Mad Walls return to re-ignite psych rock with this gorgeous, floatily heavy, effortlessly groovy and sublimely sinuous debut LP. Driven by bone shaking acoustic guitar, visceral drums, wonderfully trippy basslines and the throwaway perfection of Christopher Mercado’s spooked vocals. Pure rock n’ roll yet devoid of cliché. Informed by, but no way in hock to, early MC5, Skip Spence, Sonic Youth, Syd Barrett and Jefferson Airplane when they still all lived together.
Recorded on tape in Mercado’s garage, there’s a DIY heart with epic results across sixteen songs. Only one track over three minutes and some under thirty seconds. “It’s just chatter about life and human feelings. Stylized human expression”. - Is Christopher's self effacing explanation of his mind bending, playful, storytelling. It opens with the walloping drum canter/bass attack of WHO WANTS TO DIE FOR RELIGION. Passes through the furious distorted acoustic guitar solo on I TELL YOU HOW I FEEL. The woozy, elastic time-stretching of COOL TRIPPER. The brief, funky lurch of IN YOUR DREAM YOU ARE NO ONE. The almost lush, cinematic SEVEN DAYS which conjures Serge Gainsbourg by way of Moby Grape. HIP COMMA’s floaty strut and the groovy raga of MAKA THE NATIVE, which has not one but two ‘breath solos’. CLOUDS OF DUST is a skeletal Krautrock fragment and THERE ONLY IS a luminous psych-pop single. Final track APPLES ends the album with a sinewy twelve bar blues and a killer psych guitar break. Bliss.
Somehow the MAD WALLS manage woozily florid and sharp as a blade. Studiedly detailed but effortless. Whip smart and dumb. And as we said at the start - just gorgeous…