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"Three years ago, Jérôme Leclercq and I from Mediatoon Licensing came up with the idea of creating a cinema concert to celebrate the 20th anniversary of Naruto. Why a cinema concert? The music is part of the success of the licence and fans have a particular attachment to the credits and the original soundtracks. The originality of the music by Toshio Masuda, the composer of Naruto, comes from the clever mix of traditional Japanese instruments, such as the Shakuhachi or the Shamisen, with guitar and other pop/rock instruments. So we came up with the idea of bringing this music to the stage with a 50-strong orchestra, accompanied by an original montage of the best moments from the anime. This orchestra is made up of three parts: symphonic instruments, pop/rock instruments and traditional instruments.

To do this, we approached the ODINO orchestra and its conductor Sylvain Audinovski. The ODINO orchestra is one of those capable of mixing musical styles while maintaining a very high level of performance. We have also chosen traditional Japanese instrumentalists to complete the orchestra's core, especially for the show.

The arrangements and musical direction are the fruit of a collaboration between Quentin Benayoun, Sébastien Caviggia and myself. My two accomplices, with whom I formed the group P.U.S.S. in 2007, have a great mastery of rock and orchestral music writing. This mix is essential to keep the promise made to the fans of the series and required several months' work to select the music and write the scores for the whole orchestra.

How do you tell the story of Naruto to fans, but also to those who don't know the anime? That's the real challenge of this unique film-concert. How do you select the best moments in the story of this young ninja apprentice from the vastness of the first 220 episodes? Six months of selection and research enabled me to choose the key images in the narrative, while preserving certain dialectics to match the anime's incredible music.

This original film-concert, lasting almost 2? hours, is a real Rock-Symphonic show paying tribute to the work of Masashi Kashimoto and the music of Toshio Masuda."

Follow-up album to cult-classic debut, Mantra Moderne.

‘Melodi’ is the second album from captivating duo Kit Sebastian (aka Kit Martin and Merve Erdem). Those familiar with the band's cult classic 2019 debut record 'Mantra Moderne' will instantly recognise their unique sound that blurs boundaries of world music, jazz and psychedelia. Not to be content replicating the same album, sonically the feel of ‘Melodi’ is a maturation. It is more diverse and provides glimpses into many different worlds from the Italian Riviera to the mountains of the Caucasus, the beaches of Bahia to the city streets of Istanbul and Paris. This joyous merging of soundscapes evokes a borderless planet with music as an international language, belonging everywhere and nowhere.

‘Melodi’ is imbued with Kit Sebastian's love of vintage records and world cinema, but it is not a retro homage. It celebrates its influences but is very much a modern record, being simultaneously brand new and retro. This is a credit to the duo's craft as musicians and songwriters, presenting their influences as a circular interaction between the present and the past rather than a linear one.

The music was written during the first UK lockdown and recorded that summer, a time of opening up that only briefly existed. In a world with a slower pace than before the Covid crisis, the band were able to spend more time experimenting in the studio. The album’s range of instrumentation has expanded from the previous record to include zithers, harpsichords, congas, bongos, bulbul tarang, and a mock-up choir on top of the synthesizers, balalaikas, organs, and saxophones. Session musicians and friends were also booked to introduce trumpet and string sections giving the album an added depth and orchestral texture. Despite the added complexity, the album was recorded using the same techniques employed for the previous album with various tape machines, bouncing back between cassette and ¼” tape for practicality and sonic abstraction. To pierce through this abstraction, the vocals are intentionally more expressive. Merve took cues from the Turkish singers of her youth, adding a slightly more melancholic, darker and more reflective style than 'Mantra Moderne’. Rooted in observations from everyday life, they speak often about the worlds and thoughts that arise from the end of the night.

Like with many of the best albums, the record seems over all too soon and has you instantly wanting to play it again. On each listen you decide on a track that you think is your favourite from the album only for it to be replaced with a different one on the next listen. The songs and production have hidden depths that seem to evolve and morph the more you devour them. Moments of pure pop, moments to fall in love, moments to contemplate. This journey is rich in musical vitamins and nourishment, but like all the best things still leaves you wanting more.

At the start of this summer, following a three-year hiatus for Daphni (punctuated only by his first ever collaborative Daphni track ‘Unidos’ alongside Sofia Kourtesis), he dropped ‘Sad Piano House’. The track represented something of a continuation in the Daphni catalogue, its roots growing from Cherry’s ‘Cloudy’ and its subsequent Kelbin remix, something in that song’s makeup having a profound effect when played on dancefloors by Snaith and countless others. ‘Sad Piano House’ deployed more intangibly irresistible bendy piano to equally satisfying effect and continues to achieve similarly rhapsodic dancefloor saturation.
Though a sizeable gap for Daphni releases, between Cherry and Butterfly however of course sits Honey, the latest Caribou album and one that saw the more instantaneous and dancefloor leaning traits of Daphni peaking through the cracks more than ever before. This blurring of the lines leads to an intriguing collaboration in Butterfly’s lead single ‘Waiting So Long (feat. Caribou)’. An unlikely duo - in that both artists are the same man, Dan Snaith - ‘Waiting So Long’ is not so much an identity crisis, ego trip, or the result of a chemical spill in the Snaith laboratory. It’s simply a track that Snaith felt for the first time belongs to both aliases, and might appeal to fans of both. He has never sung on a Daphni track before, and did not set out with the intention to do so this time, and yet this strange billing was born.

Daphni music has always been Snaith’s way of hitting directly to the core of the dancefloors he spends so much of his time playing to, and those dancefloors have been steadily expanding as his name grows, with the music following suit. This album however also draws from further back with a definite kinship to the very first Daphni album, the invigorating bag of ideas that was Jiaolong.
Butterfly is a showcase of the wonderful variety and surprising twists and turns that made that album such an exciting new prospect and that still to this day make Snaith such an intriguing DJ. There are more heavy hitters here, tracks that fill those dancefloors better than anyone, like ‘Clap Your Hands’ which picks up the energy of ‘Sad Piano House’ and flips it, exposing the gritty and intoxicating underbelly of Snaith’s hitmaking side, while retaining the playful urgency that runs through all of his work of late. Meanwhile ‘Hang’’s comic-strip horns are unpinned by gleeful force, unrelenting and thrillingly unshakeable. Elsewhere though comes a clutch of other tunes that might creep out somewhere more off the beaten path, a path Snaith has never stopped seeking in amongst his larger billings. ‘Lucky’ is squirmy and elusively intoxicating, ‘Invention’ skitters down meandering, inviting corridors, ‘Talk To Me’ grumbles and broods in the murk, and ‘Miles Smiles’ could roll on endlessly, so confident in its groove. There are no obvious peaks in these tracks or unifying moments, in fact many of them really have no business being on the dancefloor at all, and yet in the right setting, they could be the most fun to be had all night.

One such club is a good microcosm for the ethos of Butterfly as a whole. “Around the time I was finishing up this album I played a long set in a club called Open Ground in Wuppertal, Germany.” Snaith recalls, “It’s kind of, in one sense, the platonic ideal of the kind of club I’d want to play in. Every single decision has been taken, at great expense, with the aim of making the perfect sounding medium sized club room. But on top of it being the perfect acoustic environment it also is run by an amazing collection of people in a way that gives it a sense of community that dance music at its best provides. It is an absolute pleasure to play in that room to a crowd of people who come from all over. Playing in there you feel like you can play anything, and I played works in progress of pretty much every track on this album in my set there. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing a short set at a festival or in a more raw warehouse kind of club where you bang it out and only really functional music works but on record I guess the point of these Daphni records is to keep in mind a more expansive idea of dance music where the parameters are broad and the church is broad. I think that actually, putting really functional stuff next to weirder tracks (both on an album and in a dj set) might be the thing that’s still most interesting to me.”
This is the feeling that’s most palpable on Butterfly, and in every single time you see Snaith DJ. Right from the inception of the Daphni alias - and even before that – the thrill of trying stuff out, pushing at the boundaries has always been there and on Butterfly is present in all its twists and turns. It leaps all over the place and yet it hangs together, never feeling like a grab bag of dancefloor utilities but rather a distillation of all the strings to Snaith’s bow, exhilaratingly human and unified by one singular concept – simple and joyful exploration.

At the start of this summer, following a three-year hiatus for Daphni (punctuated only by his first ever collaborative Daphni track ‘Unidos’ alongside Sofia Kourtesis), he dropped ‘Sad Piano House’. The track represented something of a continuation in the Daphni catalogue, its roots growing from Cherry’s ‘Cloudy’ and its subsequent Kelbin remix, something in that song’s makeup having a profound effect when played on dancefloors by Snaith and countless others. ‘Sad Piano House’ deployed more intangibly irresistible bendy piano to equally satisfying effect and continues to achieve similarly rhapsodic dancefloor saturation.
Though a sizeable gap for Daphni releases, between Cherry and Butterfly however of course sits Honey, the latest Caribou album and one that saw the more instantaneous and dancefloor leaning traits of Daphni peaking through the cracks more than ever before. This blurring of the lines leads to an intriguing collaboration in Butterfly’s lead single ‘Waiting So Long (feat. Caribou)’. An unlikely duo - in that both artists are the same man, Dan Snaith - ‘Waiting So Long’ is not so much an identity crisis, ego trip, or the result of a chemical spill in the Snaith laboratory. It’s simply a track that Snaith felt for the first time belongs to both aliases, and might appeal to fans of both. He has never sung on a Daphni track before, and did not set out with the intention to do so this time, and yet this strange billing was born.

Daphni music has always been Snaith’s way of hitting directly to the core of the dancefloors he spends so much of his time playing to, and those dancefloors have been steadily expanding as his name grows, with the music following suit. This album however also draws from further back with a definite kinship to the very first Daphni album, the invigorating bag of ideas that was Jiaolong.
Butterfly is a showcase of the wonderful variety and surprising twists and turns that made that album such an exciting new prospect and that still to this day make Snaith such an intriguing DJ. There are more heavy hitters here, tracks that fill those dancefloors better than anyone, like ‘Clap Your Hands’ which picks up the energy of ‘Sad Piano House’ and flips it, exposing the gritty and intoxicating underbelly of Snaith’s hitmaking side, while retaining the playful urgency that runs through all of his work of late. Meanwhile ‘Hang’’s comic-strip horns are unpinned by gleeful force, unrelenting and thrillingly unshakeable. Elsewhere though comes a clutch of other tunes that might creep out somewhere more off the beaten path, a path Snaith has never stopped seeking in amongst his larger billings. ‘Lucky’ is squirmy and elusively intoxicating, ‘Invention’ skitters down meandering, inviting corridors, ‘Talk To Me’ grumbles and broods in the murk, and ‘Miles Smiles’ could roll on endlessly, so confident in its groove. There are no obvious peaks in these tracks or unifying moments, in fact many of them really have no business being on the dancefloor at all, and yet in the right setting, they could be the most fun to be had all night.

One such club is a good microcosm for the ethos of Butterfly as a whole. “Around the time I was finishing up this album I played a long set in a club called Open Ground in Wuppertal, Germany.” Snaith recalls, “It’s kind of, in one sense, the platonic ideal of the kind of club I’d want to play in. Every single decision has been taken, at great expense, with the aim of making the perfect sounding medium sized club room. But on top of it being the perfect acoustic environment it also is run by an amazing collection of people in a way that gives it a sense of community that dance music at its best provides. It is an absolute pleasure to play in that room to a crowd of people who come from all over. Playing in there you feel like you can play anything, and I played works in progress of pretty much every track on this album in my set there. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing a short set at a festival or in a more raw warehouse kind of club where you bang it out and only really functional music works but on record I guess the point of these Daphni records is to keep in mind a more expansive idea of dance music where the parameters are broad and the church is broad. I think that actually, putting really functional stuff next to weirder tracks (both on an album and in a dj set) might be the thing that’s still most interesting to me.”
This is the feeling that’s most palpable on Butterfly, and in every single time you see Snaith DJ. Right from the inception of the Daphni alias - and even before that – the thrill of trying stuff out, pushing at the boundaries has always been there and on Butterfly is present in all its twists and turns. It leaps all over the place and yet it hangs together, never feeling like a grab bag of dancefloor utilities but rather a distillation of all the strings to Snaith’s bow, exhilaratingly human and unified by one singular concept – simple and joyful exploration.

In 2017, at Documenta Kassel (but in Athens), I invited José Jiménez Bobote, a remarkable gitano artist from the Tres Mil Viviendas neighbourhood in Seville, to record a series of actions in specific locations in the Greek capital. Ancient Greece and modern Greece. I wanted him to draw sound from the city, to strike it as only a flamenco artist can, with his feet. To hit the ground and make it moan, ring out with noises evoking significant moments in history: from Diogenes the Cynic and the Apostle Paul’s sermon at the Areopagus to Rosa Eskenazi’s resistance to the Nazi-German occupation, and the ups and downs of police Inspector Costas Haritos’s survival at the European Bank during the PIGS crisis. Bobote struck the ground and Athens responded, sending back echoes of the past, in an exceptional anachronistic exercise. In flamenco it is possible for several times to sound simultaneously.

We took seventeen hours of footage, and water from many wells.

I then shut away producer, musician, and friend Raül Refree with this material so that he could take the long titles and use them as scores, turning them into mere songs. It was very important to think in terms of songs. The tracks had to have the capacity to be songs, the kind of thing one whistles while absent-mindedly walking down the street. Generally speaking, the scores—that is, the texts—defended the use and abuse of the loose coins that people carry around in their pockets. Loose change as a kind of everyday fetishism against big financial capital. Pistis! Refree managed to coax that distinctive unity of songs, their bright catchiness, from the amalgamation of sounds that would, in other hands, end up being labelled concrete music. Peter Szendy would be pleased and grateful. Being able to sing under one’s breath something that others consider simply noise.

Seven songs, yes. And if you get the chance, take a stroll through Athens with them: the locations are clearly defined. If not, then let Athens fill your home with all its ancient wisdom, boring into your ears like worms, making holes in history.

Listen, and, as people used to say, turn up the volume!

Pedro G. Romero, Santa Marta, Colombia, November 2025

Comes with booklet with song lyrics written by Pedro G. Romero. Limited edition of 250 vinyl records.

Previously we’ve mentioned influences from the 1970s self-reflective work of Nick Drake & John Martyn to the lovelorn tragedy of troubadours such as Elliott Smith and Jeff Buckley creating a fusion of 1960s/70s folk and blues.

Now Cardiff-based indie folk singer-songwriter Ivan Moult returns with his most personal work to date, Stood Out In The Storm, due to be released on November 7th through Bubblewrap (home to The Gentle Good). The album follows the acclaimed Songs From Severn Grove (2023), which drew praise for its warmth, intricacy and timeless songwriting, cementing Ivan’s reputation as one of Wales’ most compelling contemporary voices.

While Songs From Severn Grove captured moments of renewal and joy - written in lockdown and
during the early days of fatherhood - its follow-up takes a braver, more vulnerable step. Stood Out
In The Storm was written in the aftermath of a personal crisis and charts Ivan’s gradual process of
healing and recovery. The record traverses darkness and light, despair and resilience, offering a
deeply honest exploration of fragility, survival and hope.

Ivan’s signature sound remains at the core: a seamless blend of 1960s/70s folk and blues infused
with modern textures, drawing influence from John Martyn, the late great Terry Reid and Ry
Cooder. On Stood Out In The Storm, that familiar intimacy is expanded with a greater presence
of guitars and organs, adding new depth and urgency to the sound. As with his previous records,
Ivan wrote, played, recorded and mixed the album at his Cardiff home studio, and the record sits
as a companion piece to Songs From Severn Grove.

Over the years, Ivan has gained support from BBC Radio 6 Music, BBC Radio Wales and KLOF
(Formerly Folk Radio UK), earned festival slots at Cornbury Festival, Festival of Voice and Sŵn,
and shared stages with the likes of This Is The Kit, Becca Mancari and Willy Mason. Now, with
Stood Out In The Storm (out November 7th), he offers his most powerful and affecting work yet –
an album born of struggle, but defined by resilience.

“Exquisite”- Folk Radio UK 

“Beautiful” - Huw Stephens, BBC Radio

“Utterly wonderful” - Adam Walton, BBC Radio Wales

”There is a wonderful delicateness that resonates through Ivan’s heartfelt lyrics, deamy music and vocals. Ivan is able to take listeners on their own journey of growth through his soft melodies and blissful atmosphere”
- Amplify The Noise

Do you believe in spring? Simon Wangen (cello) and Philipp Sutter (piano) pose this question as the title for their new project. Whereas Bill Evans made a demand in 1981, the two Cologne-based musicians believe that in times of uncertainty, crisis, and environmental destruction, it is ok to set a questin mark here. But politics and world events aside: Do you believe in spring? Of course! It's never too late to start something new, get creative, and test your own limits. Simon Wangen is a classically trained cellist, Philipp Sutter a trained jazz pianist. Their different musical roots merge on this instrumental album into a lively mix of neoclassical, new jazz, and Cinéma Nordique. Ten pieces come across as sometimes dark, sometimes wild, sometimes delicate, always focusing on the dialogue between the two instruments that harmonize so well. The subtle use of electronic effects constantly opens up new perspectives and builds a bridge to contemporary sound aesthetics. Cello and piano—this combination has been established for centuries, but can still add new facets today. Do you believe in spring? begins stormily and turbulently, oscillating between romantic, sad, and beautiful moments, and leads from a rather dark beginning to the final and eponymous piece in C major, which leaves the listener with a glimmer of hope. Do you believe in spring? From October 24, 2025!


Do you believe in spring? Simon Wangen (Cello) und Philipp Sutter (Klavier) werfen den Titel für ihr neues Projekt als Frage in den Raum. Wo Bill Evans 1981 eine Forderung formulierte, sind die beiden Kölner Musiker der Ansicht, in Zeiten der Unsicherheit, der Krisen und Umweltzerstörung durchaus ein Fragezeichen setzen zu können. Aber abgesehen von Politik und Weltgeschehen: Do you believe in spring? Natürlich! Es ist nie zu spät, etwas Neues zu beginnen, kreativ zu werden und die eigenen Grenzen zu testen. Simon Wangen ist klassisch ausgebildeter Cellist, Philipp Sutter studierter Jazzpianist. Die unterschiedlichen musikalischen Wurzeln verschmelzen auf diesem Instrumentalalbum zu einer lebendigen Mischung aus Neoklassik, New Jazz und Cinéma Nordique. Zehn Stücke kommen mal düster, mal wild, mal zart daher, stets die Zwiesprache der beiden so gut harmonierenden Instrumente im Fokus. Der dezente Einsatz elektronischer Effekte öffnet immer wieder neue Perspektiven und schlägt eine Brücke zur zeitgenössischen Klangästhetik. Cello und Klavier - diese Besetzung ist seit Jahrhunderten etabliert, aber kann auch aktuell immer wieder neue Facetten hinzubekommen. Do you believe in spring? beginnt stürmisch und aufgewühlt, changiert zwischen romantisch - traurig - schönen Momenten und führt von einem eher düsteren Beginn hin zum letzten und namensgebenden Stück in C-Dur, das die Zuhörenden mit einem Hoffnungsschimmer entlässt. Do you believe in spring? Ab 24.10.2025!

If Katsuhiro Otomo’s Akira were a utopia instead of its opposite, this EP could be a possible sound track. Using the ingredients of classic house as a platform (pianos anyone?), Nick Nikolov‘s imagination as a producer for his new new NKLV project is far too vivid to stay on the beaten track.

The sound design and nerdy attention of IDM and ambient (Clusters) connects with the brazen boogie approach of the French touch, micro-sampling manifestos have to stand up to the weirder moments of signature sounds like Basement Jaxx or KiNK‘s musical side (Heartbeat). Not too far off from his peer‘s early approach, the Bulgarian‘s take is emotionally charged, play- and powerful.

For instance, Speak to Me and No More hit their respective topical nails on the head and the EPs title track Inbetween is sultry serotonin soul. If you are looking for plain and pure euphoria in between all the hardships, happiness is just around the bend.

"I was in a dream, but now I can see that change is the only law." With a credo adapted from science fiction author Octavia E. Butler, an album title from a collection of metaphysical poetry, and an expansion in consciousness brought on by personal crisis, guitarist and songwriter Shana Cleveland learns to embrace a changing world with unconditional love on News of the Universe, the new full-length from California rock band La Luz. News of the Universe is a record born of calamity, a work of dark, beautiful psychedelia reflecting Cleveland's experience of having her world blown apart by a breast cancer diagnosis just two years after the birth of her son. It's also a portrait of a band in flux, marking the first appearance for drummer Audrey Johnson and the final ones from longtime members bassist Lena Simon and keyboardist Alice Sandahl, whose contributions add a bittersweet edge to a record that is both elegy for an old world and cosmic road map to a strange new one. But is there any band in the world more suited to capturing the chaos of change in all its messy beauty than La Luz? Formed by Cleveland in 2012, La Luz is beloved for their ability to balance bedlam and bliss, each new record another fine-tuning of the band's mix of swaggering riffs with angelic vocals borrowed from doo-wop and folk; a band so reliably great that it makes the huge step forward in confidence and sheer musicality that is News of the Universe all the more formidable. Cleveland, also a writer and painter, has developed into a truly original songwriter with her own canon of haunted psychedelia. Yet if Cleveland has spent years writing songs about ghosts, what lurks in the shadows of News of the Universe is nothing less than death itself. "There are moments on this album that sound to me like the last frantic confession before an asteroid destroys the earth," says Cleveland. The powerful sense of openness that permeates News of the Universe is at least partially due to the fact that it is a record made entirely by women-from the performing, writing, and producing all the way through to the recording, engineering, and mastering. Working with producer Maryam Qudos (Spacemoth), the all-female environment allowed Cleveland to feel safe tapping into difficult places and expressing hard emotions women are socialized to suppress. Unashamedly vulnerable, unabashedly feminine, and undeniably triumphant, News of the Universe is another knockout record from a band so reliably great that it has perhaps led people to overlook how pioneering La Luz really are: women of color in indie music forging their own path by following their own artistic star into galaxies beyond current musical trends, always led by an earnest belief in the cosmic power of love and a great riff. Never is that more true than on News of the Universe, which might be La Luz's most brutal record to date but also their most blissful.

The title of the Lau Nau's 10th album, Aphrilis, derives from the Latin word aperire, meaning "to open." A fitting verb for the month of the year it is closely associated with — April. And while the images of plants and blossoms coming back to colorful life after a long, cold winter feels appropriate when listening to the rich and lustrous bloom of music on Aphrilis, another definition of open feels even more apt. For under the abundance lies the memory of times of austerity, the friction of hard choices, the acceptance that nothing is fixed and the future is unknown. This literal and metaphorical exploration of complexity and contradiction makes Aphrilis a multi-dimensional antidote for our troubled times, one that emphasizes the quiet and communal over noise and spectacle. Laura Naukkarinen, the Finnish artist behind this project, has long kept her mind and spirit open to whatever sounds and creative ideas felt appropriate for the moment. For the past six years that has meant primarily working with modular synthesis — learning how to build modules and releasing acclaimed work centered on its sounds like 5x4 (2023) or Puutarhassa (2022). Running parallel to this work, however, has been a continued exploration of acoustic instruments and group performances with her trio Lau Nau ja Seitsemäs Taivas. Aphrilis arrives then like fresh growth in a creative season cycle. A companion to her brilliant 2017 release Poseidon, the album, says Naukkarinen, "felt like a needed moment to embrace songs with lyrics again." And through the creation of this work, she remained open not only to her own creative muse, but also the input of her chosen collaborators. Each player on Aphrilis — Matti Bye on celesta and synths, Pekko Käppi on jouhikko, Hermanni Yli-Tepsa on violin and contrabass, Topias Tiheäsalo on electric guitar, Samuli Kosminen (Múm) on various instruments — was given free reign to arrange their own parts to accompany Naukkarinen's compositions. Kosminen’s lush fingerprint can also be heard in the mixing and production of the album, as with Poseidon six years ago. The moniker of this project may be taken from Naukkarinen’s own name, but Lau Nau feels more like a band than ever before. The delicacy and softness of the music is reflected in Naukkarinen’s lyrics. Each song is rife with imagery and creatures from the natural world. The spiders in the forest. The animals that keep a young woman company in her refuge in the woods. Wet grass. The feeling of the music is almost tactile, as if listening to the album will leave a bit of dew or sap on your fingers. The theme of this material, says Naukkarinen, runs even deeper. “The songs tell about cracks and changes of direction in different histories: personal, societal, planetary,” she says. “About moments when a yes can become a no and vice versa. The album wants to propose that at the moment of a crisis there is a possibility to influence the histories by our choices.” That may feel like a lot for such a fragile sounding collection of songs to bear. But Aphrilis is an album of surprising strength and resilience

Soft Walls is the solo recording project of Dan Reeves, who has spent his entire adult life kicking around in the dust of the UK's underground music scenes. Cutting his teeth in the South West's post-hardcore scene; centred around Exeter's The Cavern club, before moving to the South East and forming his own record label; Faux Discx, and the propulsive post-punk band: Brighton via London's Cold Pumas. Projects have come and gone over the years, but Reeves' Soft Walls has remained, an outlet for whatever musical whim takes his fancy.

'True Love' is Soft Walls' 4th album. Written and recorded at home, during breaks in work. During the aftermath of you-know-what.

For this album Dan leaned heavily in to his guitar playing, searching for those purest moments of true emotion and connection. Aiming to strike an instant blow. "Emotional guitar music. But not Emo." The result of falling in love with an instrument again and playing for the joy of it, much like he did as a teenager. Just older, wiser(?) and certainly more world-weary / teary-eyed.

Thematically, 'True Love' revels in stating its love for everything that is dear to Reeves. Odes to marriage, romance, unconditional love, parenthood and creativity pierce through the record's down-swings that tackle existential crisis and the feeling of falling in to depression. Each song attempts to encapsulate a vivid feeling, be it positive or negative. It's all part of a life worth living.

Although recorded at home, this album marks a leap in to digital mid-fidelity for Soft Walls, embracing a wider, richer sound beyond the tape hiss of earlier releases. That same spirt is still in the mix, but is presented wide-eyed and caffeinated in to clarity. Elevated by the input of a handful of collaborators contributing to the performances and helping to shape it sonically, 'True Love' ends up being the truest version of Soft Walls committed to (digital) tape thus far.

Fust’s first record "Evil Joy" was a bitter domestic drama obsessed with the kitchen-sink passage of time measured by moments of leaving and returning. With "Genevieve", we find a different kind of leaving: leaving behind, leaving one’s old ways, starting anew, a small life together, in “Family Country.” Thus, Genevieve: an historical name for both the saintly and the ordinary, the peasantry and the family, the community and the wife, extreme devotion and absolute forbearance. While sonically and instrumentally louder than Evil Joy, Genevieve is thematically more quiet about its pains—more settled in its ways. It is a collection of pathetic love stories written in dedication to “small life,” moving from gentle exceptions (“I can take the late hours if you’re with me”) to pitiful admissions (“I’m never going to change when I leave…”). What comes with a quiet life? The highest forms of beauty, but we also find here songs of unspeaking companions, the sublime dread of having children, the balance of humility and humiliation, playing the fool for the greater good, and… budget birthday parties. With these stories of possible growth, "Genevieve" can’t help but also feature tried and true examples of crisis and repression: seeking a bygone lifestyle in an old friend who hasn’t changed much over the years, pissing contests, search parties as the form of community for melancholics with no clue what they’ve lost, old flames you won't let go and dying flames you won’t admit. "Genevieve" was recorded throughout 2021-2022 (mostly) at Drop of Sun studio in Asheville NC by Alex Farrar. The painting by Sasha Popovici is exactly right: a domestic scene yet unfinished. Many friends helped to make it much better than it was without them—Xandy Chelmis, Michael Cormier-O’Leary, Indigo De Souza, MJ Lenderman, Courtney Werner.

Nonesuch releases Sorry I Haven’t Called, the new album by Vagabon, the moniker of Lætitia Tamko. Co-produced by Tamko and Rostam (Vampire Weekend, Haim, Clairo), it finds Tamko reinventing herself once again and features the most playful and adventurous music of her career, as evidenced by its lead track and opening song ‘Can I Talk My Shit?’. Vagabon has also announced an autumn tour that includes a headline run in the US, as well as European dates with Weyes Blood.



“I didn’t feel like being introspective,” says Tamko of her new album. “I just wanted to have fun.” Following her intimate 2017 debut Infinite Worlds, the New York artist favoured expansive and evocative electronic textures in her breakthrough 2019 self-titled follow-up. But her latest album feels like a wholly new era for Tamko, one that’s transformational and uncompromising. Across 12 vibrant tracks she wrote and produced primarily in Germany, she channels dance music and effervescent pop through her own confident sensibilities. These conversational songs are alive and unselfconscious, a document of an artist fully embracing her vision and reclaiming her joy.



The first words she sings on the album are, “Can I talk my shit? / I got way too high for this.” It’s a statement of purpose for the rest of the album that this is an unapologetic artist. “This whole record is how I talk to my friends and how to talk to my lovers,” says Tamko. “I think honesty and conversational songwriting can become poetry. There’s beauty in plainly speaking without metaphors and without flowery imagery.”



The story of Sorry I Haven’t Called started in grief after Tamko’s best friend died in 2021. This devastating and unexpected loss unmoored Tamko but also gave her a newfound clarity. “The things that I thought I cared about, I no longer cared about,” she says. “I had a realization that I need to make sure to feel everything that comes my way.” She decided to sell her things and move to a small lakeside village a few hours north of Hamburg in northern Germany to process everything. “There's no linear path to grief, and everyone handles it differently, but uprooting my life just felt like exactly what I had to do,” says Tamko. “I needed a place to think and go through my discomfort privately but to also explore the newness and urgency I was feeling in my life.” In the village, her phone didn’t work and there were no close grocery stores or restaurants, so she spent her time alone working on music.



Despite the palpable absence in her life, her new songs were her most disarming and ebullient yet. The first one she wrote was ‘Carpenter’, a mesmerizing track anchored by a tangible bass groove, where she sings, “I wasn’t ready to move on out / but I'm more ready now.” It’s a fully-realised track and feels like the culmination of her catalogue so far. “A lot of the music that I was making there had nothing to do with my grief at all,” says Tamko. “Once I gave myself permission to make a record that's full of life and energy, I realized that’s the point of this album. In the midst of going through all of these tough things, it became a record because of the vitality that these songs had.” For Tamko, there’s power in pursuing happiness.



While writing in Germany, Tamko nurtured her love for dance music and let it seep into her new songs. “The only things that were giving me access to a feeling were dance music and going to a rave in an extremely dark club where if I wanted to cry, I could do it and be around other people,” she says.



After a few months in Germany that included marathon writing sessions and a whirlwind romance, Tamko decided to stay with friends in Los Angeles and finish her record. She enlisted co-producer Rostam to help her unify her vision.



Sorry I Haven’t Called is a warm and resilient album about embracing the ecstatic moments wherever you can by knowing how you love and how you mourn. It’s an album born of both communal dancefloor revelations and the clarifying peace from solitude, an emotional rebirth as well as an artistic one. “This record feels like what I've been working towards,” says Tamko. “When I think of this album, I think of playfulness. It's completely euphoric. It's because things were dark that this record is so full of life and energy. It’s a reaction to what I was experiencing at the time, not a document of it.”

Jackie Cohen decided the only way forward was to succumb to crisis, to
relax into it instead of fighting, to find beauty even in the flame an
approach that fuels her sublime new album, Pratfall
Because of the record's pandemic origins, Cohen was only aided in studio by two
collaborators: her husband, Foxygen's Jonathan Rado, and engineer Rias Reed.
"We were a tight pod," she laughs. The three musicians holed up at Sonora
Recorders in Los Angeles, tapping into the studio's vaulted ceilings and haunted
feeling to amplify Cohen's widescreen songwriting. "Elliott Smith recorded some
stuff there, and it always seemed like there was a ghost banging around in there,
turning lights on and off," she says, before adding a cheery followup: "Shakira
recorded there too, can't forget another 5'2" icon." On Pratfall, Cohen renders both
extremes of that range of experience in warm, inviting indie pop. "I didn't want to
write a dirge inspired by the darkest moments of my life, I wanted a cathartic
moment, to experience the emotion and build from it," Cohen says. "This record is
a climax where everything becomes explosive and you can just close your eyes,
give in, and dance it off."
LP Tracks: Two Days / Coup De Grace / The Valley / Pratfall / Ghost Story /
Moonstruck / Dire Love / Lost Without Fear / Some Days / Extra Credit / Scraps
Of Love

“Irreverent and playful” MOJO // “...an utterly distinctive, mental world.” The Financial Times // “From keening ballads to haunting waltzes, Paradise has never seemed stranger” Shindig // “There’s a buoyancy to even the most lacerating lines now, a liberating relief in pressing on” Uncut // Way back when, before the pandemic, and before the release of Alex Rex’s last album Paradise escaped the confines of lockdown, Alex Neilson took a break from the road and set about putting together a record of poems extracted from the collapsed goldmine of his brain. Returning to his experimental roots, Mouthful of Earth’s cutting and oft heart-wrenching stanzas are set to music largely from underground legends Alastair Galbraith, Richard Youngs and Alex’s cult experimental drone record Belsayer Time (originally released on Time Lag Records in 2006. This is the first time that this music has ever been made available digitally). And for one track, Alex reunites with ex-Trembling Bells mucker Lavinia Blackwall for some free-form experimental jazz, reminiscent of the more psychedelically unhinged moments of Cammell/Roeg´s Performance soundtrack. To quote Stuart Maconie’s sleeve notes for the record, “One of the first things I learned about Alex’s musical imagination and modus operandi was a joy in collaboration, and Mouthful Of Earth continues in a tradition that has seen him work with many kindred spirits across many genres; Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, Current 93, Jandek, Kan Mikami, Shirley Collins, Six Organs of Admittance, Josephine Foster and Baby Dee. The list is disparate and stellar, the results are always interesting and alive.” Continuing in the spirit of collaboration, Mouthful of Earth’s words and music are accompanied by a digital book of drawings by Kent-based visual artist, musician and art psychotherapist, Benjamin Prosser (Insta: @benjaminprosser). These are not so much literal illustrations as reactions. The combination of poems and visuals works a suite of haunted vignettes, dense with bleak humour and hallucinatory images. “The phantom hand of a lover pressed over the mouth of your mother” / “the whole gurning universe” / “the collapsed farmhouse of my mouth”. Mouthful of Earth is both visceral and corporeal, flecked with blood, sweat and beers. Or as Alex puts it "a continuous project of describing the human spirit pushed to the point of crisis”. Mouthful of Earth finds beauty in scarring and peace in torment. It’s both an assault and a balm of sorts. Life, says Neilson “is not a golden arc / It's a bent aerial / connected to a vast and terrible machine/operated by a child”. But listen hard and you will also hear beauty… “The song of yourself, roaring like a cloud, explicable only by light”. With sleeve notes by BBC Radio presenter and author Stuart Maconie, Mouthful of Earth is released on limited edition vinyl (300 copies only) and digitally via Neolithic Recordings. Reminiscent of his early work with Trembling Bells, and again featuring Lavinia Blackwall on vox, the track is a red herring; a nod towards a lighter shade of darkness.

“Babygirl” is the new album by CTM out on Posh Isolation. In its composition channels a sensuous consciousness. The music is like a prism reflecting tactile perceptions, light, movements and memories. Relations between the composed structures and the undetermined of the improvisations, the cracks in the form and the digital glitches, create a poetic and open elsewhere. With a sensibility of pop, the musical landscape moves from nostalgic popballads through the austere pomp of a deconstructed baroque menuet for solo cello, to lingering piano ornamentations and distorted guitars. There is a soft and wild intimacy to the music. Common collective musical languages are weaved effortlessly into the musical canvas, while the form and perspective change and move. With a profound emotional resonance in the music, tenderness and devotion are reflected in the narrative. The sense of nostalgia comes like glimpses of pastimes revisited, when life cycles reveal themselves repeating in the now. Babygirl continues in the track of her latest album “Red dragon”, exploring feverish dreams and personal material through a digital ephemera. Digital effects splinter the intimacy and transform into something more than human, shaking the balance between the codes of the popsong and the unexpected digressions, guided by the voice of CTM that is central throughout the album. The album is produced by Holger Hartvig, Malthe Fischer and Cæcilie Trier. It features vocal and instrumental contributions by Ydegirl, Coco O., Johan S. Wieth (Iceage), ML Buch, Jakob Littauer (Yangze), Emil Elg, Claus Haxholm among others. The album, containing bits and pieces of recordings and compositions made over several years, is like a musical platform with expressions of many voices, and with relations and time weaved into the compositions. Trier is a Copenhagen based cellist, singer, and composer, with her classical training apparent across her many and varied projects and collaborations. Having received critical acclaim from the earliest moments of her career, Trier's previous album 'Suite For A Young Girl' was nominated for the prestigious Nordic Music Prize in 2017.

oracle and audioMER. are honoured to announce the release of a new LP; Reading the City with music by oracle, Laszlo Umbreit & Mira Sanders.

In 2019 oracle invited artist Mira Sanders to interact with their practice through her writing. Due to the corona crisis, their shared working time couldn’t happen in the planned way:

“The writing project was originally planned as an exchange while travelling together one week on the Buratinas boat, navigating on the canals and rivers starting from Brussels. Due to the sanitary conditions with the Covid19, the trip together could not be realised or at least was complicated.

Instead of seeing the situation as an obstacle, I saw it as an opportunity to travel with them from afar. Me, living outside the city and them, inside. My question was ‘how, through their voices echoing with the urban spaces, will I imagine the city’s everyday life?’. Because one of the things that oracle’s practice does is to offer ways to perceive and encounter the city and its inhabitants.

For the texts I was inspired by the recordings oracle sent me every day during one week. Besides that, the book Invisible Cities written by Italo Calvino gave me a way of structuring my imagination.” – Mira Sanders

Following this artistic exchange and during a collaboration with sound artist Laszlo Umbreit, the idea of the record Reading the City was born. The existing recordings and the written sci-fi episodes by Mira Sanders functioned as a source of inspiration for the electronic sound composition Places, infiltrated by the original voices and city soundscapes. The recordings of the texts From Afar reflect oracle’s playful and spontaneous way of interacting with their given environment. From Afar is an invitation for the reader to immerse in the city while being in movement. Each track on this side has its own identity or colour, often in relation to what Mira’s text evoked, but this also happened in an empirical way, by trial and error.

Places is a composition in movement, following the idea of interaction with imaginary cities but regularly coming back to a presence of the workshop’s raw documentary sound. While being a carefully edited piece, it tries to keep a certain sense of immediacy and improvisation through semi-random dropping of heterogeneous sound materials in the timeline. Accidents are welcome. The arc drawn by the journey through different “places” is an interpretation of what can happen inside (and outside) when experiencing the oracle practice: being around them, imagining what was felt at different moments in the street, from a distance, preparing the itinerary in the city beforehand, talking about what oracle could be as a record and if it can exist outside the moment it happens.

Chronos is the new album by Rostock´s composer Johann Pätzold aka Secret of Elements - a heartfelt, richly visual journey through which the German composer channels personal struggles alongside the social upheavals to which he has dedicated himself as a 'music activist'.

Textextext - (add your write up)

Chronos charts an eventful period during which Pätzold learned to deal with mental illness, travelled to the Mediterranean to save lives during the refugee crisis, fell in love and lost love - ten years is a long time. The album tells of people, moments or phases from the musician's life. It opens with the ominous melodies and immersive choral ambience of 'Grace', which reflects on a friend's suicide attempt, before riding the euphoria of Pätzold's wedding and the birth of his children in 'A Last Waltz.'

Third track 'Memento' narrates the epic journey of a refugee Syrian mother whom Pätzold accompanied from Greece to Germany, its emotive swells and subtle crescendo evoking simultaneously the dawning of a new world and the melancholy of what has been left behind. 'Vinculum', built around an Indian mantra, also dates from the same period and was written as a last tribute to a small child who drowned in the Mediterranean. The piece combines church organ - renown as part of Christian music, and indeed recorded in the Marienkirche in Gnoien on an original 18th century Lütkemüller organ - with a mantra, seeking to unite various religious symbols in an attempt at reconciliation in the face of unimaginable tragedy.

Propelled by mechanical percussion, 'Rage' uses the Shepard scale, a musical phenomenon in which two cyclically rising octaves are played on top of each other in a staggered fashion to create the illusion of an infinitely swelling scale, perfectly mirroring the image of blind spiralling, hysterical anger. When we arrive at 'Aurora, we feel Pätzold musing about the end of the world, but also the end of the self. What remains when humanity is wiped out by a pandemic or something similar? In Johann Pätzold's case, what remains is, among other things, a monumental album, a musical chronicle of his life: Chronos.

Armellodie Records is proud to present 'whence, the', the new album from Thirty Pounds of Bone aka, Johny Lamb. 'whence, the' is the sixth full-length album by Thirty Pounds of Bone and the third in a series of records that play deliberately with the affordances and problems of studio recording. 2015's 'The Taxidermist' was awash with huge, constructed ensemble pieces, 2019's critically-acclaimed, 'Still Every Year They Went' was recorded live, at sea, on a commercial fishing boat, and this last takes Johny Lamb's fascination with analogue synths further than before using Eurorack modular synths as the bedrock for each song. The result of working in this way is of course, that many of the parts on the record are all but impossible to recreate; the nature of the patches being built in the moment, captured, and undocumented. This time around Johny has focused on the tiny details of sadness, largely inspired by the events of 'A Story of Long' where the central moment of the song is observing a close friend pouring his husband a glass of water in a hospice, just some few hours before his death. This was an intimacy and time that Johny did not expect to be a part of (the album is dedicated to the couple in question). But this stirred a way of thinking about how huge events are often typified or defined by very small gestures or happenings, and each of the tracks here comes from that place. Be it the existential crisis brought on by stripping wallpaper in 'Woodchip', how a single day might signify the end of a long relationship ('A Note to Myself'), or the miniature resignations to compromise we make in professional life which eventually overwhelm our very identity ('The Cynical Start to a Jaded Career #1'). Johny's lyricism and composition remain oblique but touching, and these songs of little moments of sadness, regret and grief are built to remain small. They are paradoxically content in their sorrow and should perhaps be kept as companions to similar feelings. "Organic and immediate. Music you can touch with your fingertips" The Irish Times // "Talent to appeal far more than only folk fans alone" Record Collector // "Exquisite index of gin-soaked desolation.... Lamb sings like a man unable to see beyond keeping a stiff upper lip to the end of the song. Even if he manages it, you might not." Mojo

Dream Violence, Michael Beach’s fourth full-length, is an epic album that explores the duality of the human condition. Or, as Beach himself puts it, the album is about “human futility, passion, desire, anger, frustration, and the struggle to maintain hope in a somewhat hopeless time.” Dream Violence, then, addresses the existential crisis of being an artist in 2020.

Known for his work touring with the Australian guitar pop band Thigh Master and the late, brilliantly eccentric Israeli guitarist Charlie Megira, currently the focus of a number of reissues by the Numero Group, Beach is the architect of a sound that is both well-built and ramshackle, straightforward and indeterminably complex, out of the norm yet familiar in all the best ways.

Dream Violence unfolds like a revelation, filled with sonic tumbleweeds that reference Neil Young’s On the Beach, Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska, the Velvet Underground’s Loaded, and the Go Betweens’ Before Hollywood. Influences ranging from the enigmatic outlier Megira to Glenn Branca to the Oblivians are combined to create a new, exhilarating sound, part of the path that Beach has been on since 2008’s Blood Courses. A veteran of year-end indie rock round ups beginning with Golden Theft in 2013 and continuing with Gravity/Repulsion, released in 2017, Beach distills the best of those early albums and adds sharpened intent.

Dream Violence works beautifully as a start-to-finish album. There are magnificent stand-alone moments: “Spring,” a raggedly building ballad that perfectly captures the ennui attached to new beginnings; “De Facto Blues,” a born-to-lose anthem that, says Beach, “is the sound of people totally at their wits end;” “Curtain of Night,” a simultaneously derelict and bright tribute to the late Megira, which sounds like it could’ve been cut at Muscle Shoals Sound Studio after the Rolling Stones wrapped up sessions for Sticky Fingers; and the delicately vulnerable “You Found Me Out,” which evokes equal parts Lou Reed and Joni Mitchell. On the latter, the lyrics “You found me out, on a ship at sea, you pulled me in, made a wreck of me,” encapsulate “the aimless of a modern world view in a future without hope and the draw/dependence of love in those times,” Beach explains.

Through music, Beach strives to convey both passion and compassion, energy and action. “My hope is that something gets communicated that makes people think outside of themselves or their surroundings,” he says. “To ask questions, and consider the effects of their decisions. To communicate some essential part of the human spirit that understands intuitively how to feel connected to each other rather than divide, exploit, separate, ignore, and all the other heinous shit we have the ability to do with each other.”

Recorded on two continents, Dream Violence documents Beach’s move from Oakland, California to Melbourne, Australia as he navigated a new music scene, plenty of bureaucratic red tape, and, ultimately, citizenship. Parts of the album were recorded and mixed at Tiny Telephone Recording in Oakland, at the end of a 2019 tour with Kelley Stoltz producing. Other tracks were recorded at Beach’s new home in Melbourne, where he could be “relaxed and sloppy in all the right ways,” and partially remixed at Phaedra Studios.

At the Memphis-based Goner label, Beach joins an increasingly unique roster of international musicians that reaches far beyond garage or indie rock to encompass artists like gospel singer Rev. John Wilkins, Kentucky rockers Archaeas, New Orleans iconoclasts Quintron and Miss Pussycat, and no-wavers Optic Sink.

Catz 'n Dogz are back with album 'Moments'. Written and recorded in the midst of this crisis. Twelve tracks form the backbone to this wide-spanning sonic journey that document the highs and lows of this time. Drawn out of their comfort zone, it's safe to say this shift in their creative paradigm resonates throughout 'Moments'. Inviting you to gaze deeper inside, the album floats in a haze of dreaminess and cottony serenity. Though seemingly simple, the track titles point at themes more complex and universal that will strike a chord with every soul.

Traversed by a vaporous jazz vibe and highlighting an obvious lean towards laid-back atmospheres, 'Moments' effortlessly alternates between. Lo slung house 'Sunrise' features James Yuill, the heavy-lidded, funky bass-heavy 'Memories' and the rolling brass anthem 'Time', in collaboration with Jaw - and more doped up trip-hop-ness. 'Life', the slo-mo chugger that will get the feels on alert, the chillax of 'Nothing' and 'Love,' and the luscious 'Moment' feat. Angelika Nowak, a sample-heavy, soul jam whose naive charm will prove hard to resist, even for the stonehearted.

Catz 'n Dogz explore inwards the heart's non-spoken spheres, where the pop-infused hip-hop 'Meditate' introduces Heather Chelan. A more personal affair 'Listen' makes for a playful interlude. 'It's OK' invites you to let go of the shame at shedding tears, a memorable cut with its joyful whistling, elated guitar riffs and rousing bass.

To close off this sonic micro-odyssey, 'Tomorrow' casts a spell of positiveness. With blazing synth lines and robotised talk, unfolds an anthem for tomorrow's world. One where music holds the crucial place it's always had. So be the kids' dreams, the person they want to be in the future. Be Batman, be a firefighter, be a rock star.