quête:mourn the light

Mourn The Light kehren mit einem beeindruckenden neuen Album zurück, das epischen Heavy Metal mit einer düsteren, doomlastigen Atmosphäre verbindet und mit gewaltigen Vocals, emotional aufgeladenen Melodien und massiven Riffs überzeugt.

„Sorrow Feeds the Silence“ hebt den charakteristischen Stil der Band mit dramatischem Songwriting, dynamischen Arrangements und einem Sound, der an die Glanzzeiten des klassischen Metal erinnert und gleichzeitig mit moderner Intensität voranschreitet, auf ein neues Niveau. Von herzlichen, langsameren Passagen bis hin zu triumphalen Metal-Hymnen ist dieses Album das stärkste und vollständigste Statement in der Karriere der Band.
Unverzichtbar für alle, die kraftvollen, melodischen und atmosphärischen Heavy Metal suchen.

Für Fans von Candlemass, Dio, Grand Magus, Solitude Aeturnus, Savatage.

Mourn The Light were formed in early 2018 by
Dwayne Eldredge, also co-founder of The New
England Stoner And Doom Festival.

Driven by his passion for thunderous, traditional
doom metal mixed with lofty progressive and
power metal leanings, Dwayne was hell-bent on
creating a band that could sonically push a
message of hope in spite of despair.

Following their highly acclaimed 2019-debut EP,
‘Weight Of The World’, and touring the US and
Canada on the back of this, Mourn The Light
returned to the studio to record their first album.

Entitled ‘Suffer, Then We’re Gone’, the band’s
debut album showcases a plethora of influences.
At one moment, Mourn The Light deliver crushingly
massive riffs, only to jump at the next turn,
galloping along with shades of classic heavy,
progressive and power metal taking hold and
leading the way, all the while focusing on incredibly
memorable songs with catchy hooks and anthemic
choruses.

For fans of Solitude Aeturnus, Savatage, Psychotic
Waltz, Trouble, Black Sabbath, Saint Vitus,
Candlemass.

LP pressed on green and orange splatter vinyl.

The Sound Of Young Jamaica - More Early Cuts From The Vaults Of Studio One 1959-63

This is the second collection to bring together many of the visionary producer Clement 'Sir Coxsone' Dodd's early recordings made with Jamaica's most exciting young artists and musicians who helped define the world of reggae music over the decades following Jamaican Independence. These recordings were made when Sir Coxsone ruled the dancehalls of Kingston in the late 1950s and early 1960s with his number one Downbeat Sound System, where songs were tested out on dub plates at a dance to see a crowd's reaction - the most popular of which were then released commercially. Featuring early material by Roland Alphonso, Don Drummond, Tommy McCook (all of whom would form The Skatalites), Toots and The Maytals, young singers such as Bob Marley and The Wailers, Delroy Wilson, Owen Gray all captured in their formative days. The music here spans a wealth of styles - Jamaican rhythm and blues, jazz, gospel, proto-ska, Rastafarian - all of which were drawn upon to create the future sounds of Jamaican reggae that Sir Coxsone and the artists featured would soon create at Studio One which opened its doors in 1963. This collection is released on heavyweight triple-vinyl plus download code and double CD with slipcase. Sleevenotes and text is by the author Noel Hawks.

This new chapter marks Gordon’s first solo release as Leaving Laurel - a deeply personal and instinctive body of work born from a period of rediscovery. The record began as an open exploration of whatever music naturally came through, a process that became both freeing and revealing to Gordon. The album is a wordless love story told through sound. An emotional arc that mirrors the stages of falling for someone: the spark, the curiosity, the vulnerability, and the quiet realisation that your heart has opened without you even noticing. The album carries an uplifting, hopeful energy, reflecting both personal growth and newfound love - ‘our lives entwined' is a tribute to Gordon’s journey of finding “the one.” Following the loss that inspired ‘when the quiet comes’, Gordon’s eulogy to his late friend and musical partner Pierce, this album finds light emerging from grief. Where the previous record lingered in somber reflection, this album begins in that same emotional landscape but quickly blooms into something more vibrant and full of life. The opening track transitions from the cold, atmospheric tones of mourning into a more radiant energy - a sonic awakening symbolising the shift that came after meeting someone who changed everything. Sonically, the record expands Leaving Laurel's signature sound while embracing new textures. Gordon moved away from the lo-fi experimentation of earlier works, leaning instead into a more expressive palette driven by synths and fresh instrumentation, while still preserving the nostalgic warmth that defines Leaving Laurel. The result is a collection that feels both renewed and rooted - a reflection of growth, optimism, and the timeless beauty of connection.

A1 - Sequence Array
Exquisitely filtered breaks open Sequence Array as Aural Imbalance opens the EP with a glorious intro capped off with a tight 808 bassline solo before the dependable, rapturous crunch of amens thrash their way into the mix. Programmed with dextrous skill allowing the crisp subtleties of the breaks to breathe among the layers upon layers of floral ambience, this one is an amen journey to remember.

A2 - In Formation
A more understated affair takes the stage as In Formation is introduced by airy pads and light DJ-friendly filtered breaks in the backdrop before a punchy yet delicate break pattern - high on the juddering snares and low on the kicks - ushers us along through plinky melodies and mood-elevating synthwork, completing a journey of reflective solitude from the master of ambient atmospherics.

AA1 - Voices From Neptune
Light keys and excitable, shimmering waves of ambience kick off the elegantly composed Voices from Neptune, setting a sumptuous tone before the uniquely constructed breakbeats commence. Kicks and energetic hi hats & snares are soon joined with a light Hot Pants break, crisp and complimentary in the mix as low pass melodies bask in the soothing swathes of exquisite synthwork.

AA2 - Decoded Message
Closing out the EP, Aural Imbalance sets free his Decoded Message, opening with a quietly suspense-fuelled intro flecked with light hi hats before a yearning, mournful melody intersects with a tapestry of ambient pads and effects. Swirling with an array of subtle jangling melodies to form a kaleidoscope of spine-tingling mood music, the compositions capped-off with old-school breakbeats riddled with analogue charm and earthy bass.

Words by Chris Hayes (Spatial / Red Mist)

180 G. BLACK VINYL WITH LINER NOTES IN CREOLE, FRENCH, ENGLISH

Originally released in 1979, "Spiritual Sound" lives up to its name, a soaring, triumphant album, six tracks of spirit magic from Guadeloupe.

Telluric, intense, terribly alive, the gwoka drums of Guadeloupe carry the identity of a painful and fervent island. Marked forever by the crime of slavery, Guadeloupe's créolité cherishes the ka drums and their natural environment: the low-pitched boula drum with male goatskin, the high-pitched soloist makè drum with female goatskin, the chacha, ti bwa, triangle, calabash and other percussion instruments that surround them, and the voices - the fiery, proud, timbred, urgent voices of the gwoka.



This album is also a legend for its voices: in his then dazzling youth, singer Lukuber Séjor was one of the first gwoka artists to largely feminize the chorus of répondè, who converse with his text delivered in a straight and powerful voice.

And everything here sets new standards. In 1979, Mizik Filamonik - Spiritual Sound proclaimed a spiritual patriotism of ferocious intensity. The album by Lukuber Séjor - whose spelling alone is a battle - sets out to give Guadeloupe the intangible weapons of self-respect and self-knowledge, through a singular practice of traditional music.

The genesis of gwoka music is less straightforward than one might imagine... The drums performed the servile task of accompanying the work of slaves in the fields and during the “corvées” imposed by the administration, before being freely practiced by the common people after the abolition of 1848. At the heart of the conviviality of the Guadeloupeans furthest from the cities - geographically and socially - the gwoka drums come out for carnival, funeral wakes and neighborhood celebrations, but also during strikes, fits of anger and armed vigils of the riots and revolts that have punctuated the island's history. For generations, governors of the colony and then the prefects of the overseas department of Guadeloupe have been viewing the gwoka as a potential for turbulence and a threat to public order.

But as the Beatlesmania, “chanson engagée” and rock revolutions unfolded in Europe, young people turned to the drums of mizik a vié nèg (“bad negro music”, in Creole), which Guadeloupeans had learned to despise by following the “assimilation” process advocated by the school system and most of the political class. At the end of the sixties, in a Guadeloupe mourning the deadly repression of the May 1967 social movement, they played traditional music, refusing to wrap it up in tourist prettiness and madras folk costumes. Instinctively, they played a rough and contemporary gwoka, led by the incendiary Guy Konkèt. This was the era of decisive 45 rpm records such as Robert Loyson's Kann a la richès, which brought to light the fieriest words of union rallies.

At his home in Sainte-Anne, Lukuber Séjor played with flautist Olivier Vamur and his brother Claude Vamur, who cobbled together a drum kit from tin crockery and became, a few years later, the most influential drummer in Kassav'.

These were the years of the Bumidom program, when young Guadeloupeans were encouraged to emigrate to mainland France. At the age of twenty, Lukuber Séjor embarked on the liner Irpinia, disembarking at Le Havre and taking the train to the Gare Saint-Lazare - the route taken by thousands of young West Indians who went on to study or looked for work, all the while trying to maintain a link with their homeland. In this case, it's at the Antony university residence, where Lukuber played the drum and participated in a thousand gwoka updates and aggiornamentos, while exile reinforced the need for a spiritual link with the native land.

In 1978, Guy Konkèt played at the Salle Wagram, a historic event for West Indian music. After serving as répondè - i.e. backing vocalist - on one of his home-recorded albums, Lukuber joined his live band. Little by little, he became one of the key artists on a circuit parallel to French show business. At a student party in Caen, he met a young woman from Martinique who, at the time, was more motivated by her ambitions as a visual artist than by her vocation as a musician. Her name was Jocelyne Béroard and, a few years before she plunged into the Kassav' adventure and became the greatest West Indian singer of her generation, she designed the cover of Lukuber Séjor's LP.

This ambition was obvious and imposed its will. A more or less regular band was formed, with Roger Raspail, Rudy Mompière and Éric Danquin on ka drums, Claude Vamur on ti bwa, Olivier Vamur and Françoise Lancréot on flutes and Annick Noël on keyboards. Lukuber Séjor is set on wanting to extend the gwoka palette to other instruments, as the jazz-rock revolution opens a thousand new doors. Annick Noël will play a wide range of timbres and textures on electric piano and synthesizer. Another novelty: the répondè are two men and two women, Roger Raspail, Olivier Vamur, Françoise Lancréot and Maryann Mathéus ...

Mizik Filamonik - Spiritual Sound is a self-production in which the singer and leader sank all his savings, allowing him no more than a single day in the studio. The first side is more of a musical manifesto, with the first two tracks, Éritage and Penn é plézi, being instrumentals. The third, Son, forcefully celebrates the need for Guadeloupeans to connect with the gwoka. In fact, Jocelyne Béroard's cover shows a tambouyé in the shadow of a cloudy sky, against which a radiant sun is rising and whose light will soon flood the entire landscape. The silhouette and face of this man strongly evoke the immense Vélo, master of the ka, rejected at the time on the fringes of society.

The second side of the LP is surprising. Formally, three tracks are explicitly linked like the three parts of a triptych. Primyé voyaj evokes the appalling tribulation of Africans deported as slaves to Guadeloupe; dézyèm voyaj speaks of the Bumidom program and the economic, political and social forces driving young Guadeloupeans towards the mirage of prosperity in France; twazyèm voyaj closes the cycle with the emigrants' return from Europe after years away from their island...

This gwoka, obsessed with the need to save Guadeloupe spiritually, appeals far beyond the politicized audience. Mizik Filamonik - Spiritual Sound instantly became a classic, although Lukuber Séjor never really made a career for himself as a musician.

After all, the album was released in 1980, with no promotional resources in France or Guadeloupe - and therefore no concerts. The thirty-two-year-old author, composer and performer made his own third trip back to Guadeloupe. He set up a small woodworking business, which he lost in Hurricane Hugo in 1989. His other activity, teaching in a medical-educational institute, became the core of his professional life. He continued to be an active campaigner - a campaigner for the Creole language, a campaigner for the reawakening of identity, a campaigner for special education, a campaigner for a thousand causes that he ignited with his generous and perceptive enthusiasm, such as the defense of breadfruit fries...

The echoes of his 1979 album have not died down. Of course, the use of Penn é plézi as the theme tune for Radio Guadeloupe's funeral notices from 1980 to 1992 kept him in the collective memory, but he continues to sing and compose sporadically, as with his all-female

vocal group Vwapoulouéka... Still convinced that music is a means of liberating the spirit, he continues the journey of a young man eager to deploy the power of Creole music and language.

Bertrand Dicale

For here lies one of the most influential bands in the realm of gothic metal, a group with doom and death metal roots that has flourished for over three decades, boasting thirteen albums that have garnered devoted acclaim. This injustice is now being set right by The Circle Music , beginning with the vinyl release of the classic album "Burning: A Wish", which emerged twenty-four years ago. "Burning: A Wish", released in the twilight of the year 2001, stands as a dark reliquary of dreams lost to the velvet fog of melancholy. To revisit it now, two dozen years later, is to unseal a time capsule of gothic ache, doom- laced longing, and the tormented tenderness that only Lacrimas Profundere could conjure at their creative height. It was a candle-lit corridor between worlds. A slow fall into velvet shadows. A scream muffled by rain.

By the time "Burning: A Wish" was released, Lacrimas Profundere had already begun to evolve from their early death- doom origins, shaping their identity with the sophistication of seasoned mourners. The death growls had receded, replaced by the haunted, baritone croon of Christopher Schmid, whose voice is an echo from a chapel ruined by time. Yet, while the growls faded, the emotional gravitas remained intact, transmuted into melody, into baroque gloom, into something more sorrowfully refined. Produced with lush, theatrical clarity, the album never drowns in its own atmosphere, it breathes with it, moves with it. The soundscape is dominated by somber guitar textures, languid tempos, and subtle orchestral touches. From the very first notes, it is clear that this is music for ruined lovers and moon-drenched graveyards.

This is the hallmark of Lacrimas Profundere 's style: an emotional minimalism that does not explain or elaborate, but merely opens wounds and lets them breathe. That this album has remained, until now, absent from the warm embrace of vinyl is both tragic and oddly poetic. For what format better suits a record such as this than the one that cracks and hisses like an old seance? Vinyl is tactile, intimate. It requires attention, reverence. To place Burning: A Wish on a turntable is to light a candle in the dark.

Sacramento (CA) Heavyweight Crushers Return! Oromet presents atmospheric funeral doom with a melodic emphasis without surrendering the all-encompassing heaviness that is the genre's hallmark. Where some seek to immiserate and drown the listener, Oromet explores the complete nature of sorrow as the band weaves the choke of despair and the lightness of serenity. The Sinking Isle focuses on the inevitability of collapse and the cycles of ruin and rebirth. Adrift on cataclysmic seas, melody remains the compass—a hopeful light guiding the listener through themes of loss, nostalgia, and pessimism. For fans of Mournful Congregation, Bell Witch & Esoteric. Dan Aguilar: Guitar, Vocals Patrick Hills: Drums, Bass, Synth, Backing Vocals Recorded, Mixed, and Mastered by Patrick Hills at Earthtone Studios Cover Artwork: Ted Nasmith Design, Layout, Illustration: Dan Aguilar Additional Backing Vocals: Chris Lemos

From 1968 through to the mid 1970’s the reggae beat began to slow down,some say due to the extreme heat hitting down onto Kingston Town and its surrounding enclaves. People needed something less strenuous to dance to. The Ska and Rocksteady Sounds (see 101 Orange Street KS007) that rocked Jamaica previously, had now found a slower tempo and become more ‘Dread’ lyrically to suit the times. Reggae music has always moved within the social climate it found itself in and this set here, as we ‘Return To Orange Street’ was ROOTS ROCK REGGAE TIME....

The Rastafarian message that runs through this collection of ‘Reality’, sometimes labelled ‘Sufferers’ music,is strong and works on many levels. It can come across on a heavy rhythm and vocal cut. Its example represented here by Prince Jazzbo’s ‘Dread in a Earth’ and ‘I Roy’s ‘Roots Man Time’, moving through to the popular new sounds of the DJ’s working over an old rhythm and alongside its existing vocal. As with Busty Brown working with Delroy Wilson's ‘Know Your Friend’ and Mr Jah Stitch working over Johnny Clarke’s ‘Roots Natty Roots’ to produce an even more dreader ‘True Born African’. The heartfelt lyric can also convey this message as we can see when Horace Andy laments ‘Where is the Love’ and Delroy Wilson again shows us on his ‘Who Cares’ cut. The great Twinkle Brothers also put the message across on their two cuts we have here, ’Too Late’ one of their lost classics if ever there was one and the thoughtful ‘It’s Not Who You Know’,being another prime example.

Orange Street itself is always at the heart of all reggae's musical changes and some singers also ride these waves as Mr Cornell Campbell shows us here with two cuts. The mournful ‘Too Be Loved’ and his uplifting ‘Girl of My Dreams’, which uses the same rhythm as our previously mentioned Prince Jazzbo’s 'Dread in a Earth’. Showing us that firstly you can’t keep a good rhythm down and secondly that two if not more great songs can work from the same source point. The light hearted ‘Vengeful’ lyric also worked in this period when artists spared off to each other on records to vent their frustrations. As we can hear here with Mr Lee Perry’s ‘You Funny Boy’. The song snipping back at a previous employer over what he felt were his misdoings to an under appreciated Mr Perry. We have culled these tracks together to show that the Dread Roots feel of the 1970’s came across in many guises and even in earlier songs these sentiments were also prevalent. As represented in Slim Smith’s almost bluesy feel in ‘Trying To Find a Home’, never a truer statement in Kingston's ghetto areas.

Well we hope you enjoy this musical journey and make a connection with messages portrayed here, as Mr Monty Morris points out on his contribution to this collection ‘Times Are Dread’.... Dread indeed.....

Eisenmund, the debut by Berlin-based Schimmel über Berlin is a thing of pounding, brittle beauty that seeks to continue on from where angst-ridden, early-eighties Berlin left off. Angular, monophonic synths, guitars that slice through with wiry yet melodic urgency, basslines that pulse with a taut, driven precision and drums that meld everything together. Liv Billerbeck’s vocals come from the middle distance, drifting between detached and desperate, as if transmitted through a wintery cityscape.

Title track Eisenmund jangles with reedy synths floating over a carpet of bass and mournful vocals dripping with a sense of loss. This mood spills over into the other tracks, like post-punk jewel Schreck with its iridescently lovely guitars.

Eisenmund is sharp, atmospheric, and quietly thrilling - proof that the shadows of the eighties can still dance under today's flickering lights. The album, immaculately produced by T-Rex, captures that classic post-punk mood of urban decay, late-night introspection and stubborn sense of motion, which for someone like me, who was there back in the day, seems utterly familiar without ever sinking into mere nostalgia.

Fiona Sangster (Xmal Deutschland)
Die Band Schimmel über Berlin ist eines der vielen Klanggesichter der Liv Billerbeck, ein Gesicht, das man niemals sieht, das im Verborgenen sich umblickt und agiert und das trotzdem aber in einer seltenen Klarheit erscheint. Man sieht es beim Hören, schemenhaft. Ihr Schaffen ist befallen vom West-Berlin der 1980er Jahre (Xmal Deutschland, Malaria etc.).

Eine Rolle, gerade in der musikalischen Brillanz und Produktionsraffinesse, spielt britischer Post-Punk, der sich sehr klar auch im treibenden Spiel von T-Rex ​​​(Bass + Produktion), Việt Phương Vũ (Gitarre) und Christian Ramisch (Schlagzeug – mit Phương übrigens bei der ebenfalls sehr guten Band NOJ) zeigt: The Sound, Killing Joke et. al.!

Es handelt sich bei dieser Musik um einen Sound mit retroesquem Anstrich, der spürbar eine vergangene Luft atmet, einer Nostalgie an eine ferne Zeit anheimfällt, die das Quartett ob ihres Alters nicht erlebt haben kann, und die vielmehr eine Sehnsucht bedeutet, in der Unerfüllbarkeit eine Melancholie mitbringt, eine Art treibende Traurigkeit spürbar macht. Das allein ist groß! Was weitergehend daran aber so interessant, besonders und wahnsinnig schön ist: Das klingt in Billerbecks Schaffen – und insbesondere hier, beim Schimmel über Berlin – nicht wie eine Kopie, ein Abklatsch, eine Reminiszenz oder das, was in der so called NNDW bald flächendeckend geschieht: das Anzapfen einer überholten Coolness. Denn etwas ist ganz gegenwärtig daran, in der Eigenständigkeit, macht einem eindringlich das Hier und Jetzt spürbar, auf unterschiedlichen Ebenen: Traurigkeit, ja, aber auch Bock, bis in die Morgenstunden auszugehen, schnellen Schrittes über rutschiges Kopfsteinpflaster zu traben. Musik dann wieder zum Verkrümeln in zugigen Altbauten, von Schreien über einen nebelbedeckten See im Umland Berlins.

Und eben kein Eskapismus, auch wenn die Musik zur Flucht taugte. Merkwürdig ist, dass in dieser Retroschleife dann etwas Märchenhaftes mitschwingt. Vielleicht liegt es auch in der authentischen 1980er-Jahre Produktion, in der immer wieder so ein Klimpern, ein Schellen durchkommt. Es mag aber auch an den Texten liegen, die etwas von Minnesang haben und in ihrer Klarheit, die aus der Kühle und den Kargheiten (der Vergangenheit, der Gegenwart, der Zukunft) entsteht, doch Wärme transportieren.

Wir hören darin heute, trotz all dem Bewusstsein für die Vergangenheit, den Sound einer seltenen Dichterin der Gegenwart. Das ist von einer Intensität, die einen bald absorbiert. Eisenmund etwa, das Titelstück, ist so ein Song, bei dem man sich hinsetzen oder gleich hinlegen muss. Da sind Dinge, die man nicht ändern kann. Wie geht das? Also: nach vorne, heftig, und dann aber so weich und traurig. Hätten Schimmel über Berlin die 1980er-Jahre dieser Stadt beschallt, sie wären hiermit, das mögen sie selbst vielleicht gar nicht hören, die Helden dieser Zeit gewesen. Eisenmund ist das tollste Album, das mir seit Jahren begegnet ist – und die bisherige Klimax dessen, was aus der Allee der Kosmonauten hervorgeht.

Und wenn man das alles so hört, aufmerksam hört, wird einem, obwohl das alles so ein einziger, riesiger Hit ist, völlig klar: Hier geht es nicht darum, irgendwo damit zu landen, irgendwo mitzumischen, erfolgreich zu sein oder in aller Munde. Hier geht es darum, einfach nur genau das zu machen, was es ist! Alles andere ist egal.

Der Klagegesang wird mich immer umwehen.

– Hendrik Otremba

"I stood on top of the mountain and looked out over the landscape. It was so beautiful that my chest hurt. The light vibrated, time stood still, and the contours dissolved for a moment. Everything had changed; I felt it then. I took their little hands so as not to lose contact with the ground. Then we ran down the mountain, scraping our knees. Still, we didn't make it. You had already put away all the nautical charts, loosened the moorings and steered out among the skerries. Mum stood waving from the jetty. You were alone, you wanted it that way. It was to be just you in the boat this time. I called out to you. I think you heard me and felt less lonely. We couldn't carry each other anymore, no matter how hard we tried. We washed our wounds on the shore and scattered tears and rose petals in the bay. The children laughed and searched for treasures under water. We called to them that it was time to come up. They were cold, and we hugged them to warmth. One ran ahead, the other up on our shoulders. Up the mountain, our mountain."

In 2020 Anna Högberg put her widely celebrated band Anna Högberg Attack on hold, retraining as a nurse whilst continuing a solo practice and playing in other groups. With Ensamseglaren she makes a spectacular return with her own ensemble — this time a double sextet — performing an album length suite of new music written in dedication to her late father — the titular ‘ensamseglaren’ pictured on the LP cover as a young boy.

 (ensam in Swedish can mean both alone and lonely, seglaren = the sailor).

Shot through with renewed energy and a brutally affective emotional punch, Högberg’s formal experimentation opens up vibrant possibilities for the assembled musicians to let loose with some of their wildest and most ecstatic playing on record.

Högberg’s contention with grief leans into collective joy as method of mourning — the big band as extended family; where bonds are made through a shared experience of being together. Where everyone gets to be themselves without expectations of who they should be or what they can do. It’s a radical commitment to care — of her self and others — that animates and unifies this suite of music’s radical dynamics and variations in colour: from whisper-quiet textural intensity to harrowing distortion and double drum chaos; raucous and solemn song.

"Throughout history, humans have had different images of the transition between life and death. Imagine standing on the seashore on a summer evening and seeing a beautiful vessel being prepared for departure. The sails are hoisted. The evening breeze comes, the sails fill and the boat glides out onto the open sea. You follow it with your eyes as it heads towards the sunset. It gets smaller and smaller, until it finally disappears as a tiny dot on the horizon. Then you hear someone next to you say, ‘Now they have left us.’ Left us for what? The fact that they got smaller and smaller and finally disappeared is only how we see it. In reality, they are just as big and beautiful as when they were here, lying on the beach by our side. Just as you hear that voice say ‘Now they have left us’, there may be someone on another beach who sees them appear on the horizon, someone waiting to welcome them when they reaches their new port."

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

All Men Unto Me is a project led by Rylan Gleave, composer and vocalist (most notably in Ashenspire and various Paraorchestra projects). Today, All Men Unto Me announces their second album Requiem, an album which re-imagines an ancient mourning in a real, contemporary setting. Taking the broad emotional arcs of the Missa pro Defunctis, these structures pave way for new songs, ruminating on patriarchal power systems and the conditions of transmasculinity within these, through the haze of Queer reverence and forgiveness. In Rylan's words, the Missa pro Defunctis "translates to ‘Mass for the dead’, and refers to the Catholic text taken from the Roman Missal. When set to music, it is called a ‘Requiem’. Requiem masses are usually performed at funerals. I’ve sung in a few Requiems — Mozart, Fauré, Duruflé — when I’ve been in choirs, and felt those dramatic arcs of the structure in my own voice. Writing a Requiem felt like processing my own complex feelings about the Church, patriarchal power within it (and more broadly), and the death of a part of me in a framework that allowed for mourning. The contours of sorrow, light, forgiveness, and reverence made space for these songs to speak to my own identity as a survivor, and use that structure in a way that let me direct an ancient narrative myself." Marrying traditional Anglican soundworlds of electro-pneumatic church organ and stacked choral vocals with heavier sounds, closer to experimental/noise rock and doom metal, Requiem sits at times near Swans, Kayo Dot, Lingua Ignota, Greet Death, and Scott Walker.







[e] SEQUENTIA [video]

Growing up is painful, brutal, and sometimes beautiful _ something Brooklyn-based indie-rock band Bedridden knows all too well. The band's name is even a nod to that ineffable period between childhood and the jagged edges of the real world. "When I was 21, I kind of lost my home," says frontman/guitarist Jack Riley. "I was couch-surfing. I was having a hard time.The next iteration in the band's maturation, then, is their debut, LP Moths Strapped To Eachother's Backs, 10 fuzzed-out (and sometimes gnarly) ruminations on dating, drugs, and survival out April 11 on Julia's War. The title came from a mysterious missive Riley received on astrology app Co-Star. "Last year I was way too reliant on other people _ my partner at the time, my friends," he says. "I was strapped to them in a weird way _ and flying in circles. This album is about that time."The current incarnation of Bedridden encompasses a patchwork of styles, influences, and friends Riley accumulated over the years. A Chicago native who first started making music at age five on a thrift-store guitar emblazoned with Kurt Cobain's name, Riley moved to New Orleans for college where he dabbled in punk before falling in love with shoegaze. There, he launched the first version of Bedridden. Sebastian Duzian (bass) _ a jazz musician and Pasadena native _ linked up with Riley in NOLA along with his bandmate, drummer Nick Pedroza. Pedroza, from Claremont, grew up on rock, metal, and jazz, honing his style after joining the band. Wesley Wolffe _ a guitarist fed on a steady diet of New Wave and `90s alt _ rounded out the crew just a few months back. Bedridden's previous lineup released their first EP, Amateur Heartthrob, in 2023 _ a noise-washed blend of shoegaze, DIY, and indie that Riley says is a "coming-of-age EP _ these formative stories about not having a bed, dating, being kind of a jackass. I was making fun of myself a lot." That release caught the attention of Douglas Dulgarian from Philly Label Julia's War (and TAGABOW), who signed them for Moths."Some of these songs have been around for years," says Riley, adding that they were recorded last February at Studio G Brooklyn; the album was produced by Aron Kobayashi Ritch (Momma). "As opposed to Amateur Heartthrob, we attempted to blend more clean guitars into a driving sound to capture more clarity _ one that also sounds live_ and raw," Riley says. That rawness thrums through the record, which kicks off with the thrashed "Gummy," about an incident when Riley had to gently fend off a co-worker's unwanted advances while both drunk and high on an MDMA gummy. And then there's mournful rager "Etch," which sees Riley daydreaming about beating up a meddler in his personal life _ in the minor key.The annihilating "Chainsaw" revs in next, a lightning-fast Lemonheads-inspired track that recalls Riley moving in with new roommates who were unnaturally obsessed with purchasing a lamp. "For some reason that pissed me off," he laughs; that rage is evident in the album cover, which shows said power tool demolishing a lampshade. Heavy-shredding "Heaven's Leg" showcases the band's affinity for `90s mainstays like Smashing Pumpkins while telling the tale of a gig at a local church. "The lyrics are about a pastor I had met that had lost his leg," Riley says. "The church had signs about not cussing and I had a feeling that neither of us had anything to talk about without potentially offending the other."The band's not afraid to get confrontational, though, on the anger-fueled, drum-heavy "Philadelphia, Get Me Through," which deals with a dead-end relationship and the mistaken assumption that getting drunk in the titular city would be a balm against the pain. And the nasty, brutist, and short hardcore-adjacent "MainStage"? "It's about being disrespected at a show on New Year's and how I lashed out," Riley says. "I then began to take it out on other people, which was a quality that I despise."Things get contemplative and mournful from here on out _ the emo-edged "Snare" is about bringing flowers to a hospital room where you're not welcome, while the Smiths-inspired "Uno" wrestles with self-loathing. "I guess the big finale of that song was my response to dealing with this recurring experience of feeling like I wasn't good enough by getting really into whippets," Riley says. Nu-metal bop "Bonehead," then, recalls an embarrassing dinner that turned into an argument _ the name applies both to that incident and the delicious simplicity of the guitar parts.After all that turmoil and pain, the band caps everything off with their eyes to the future on the jangle-pop "Ring Size." "All my friends are getting married _ do I follow in their footsteps? Or is it all a waste of time?" Riley says of the song. "At the end, through it all, I guess that's what I've been trying to figure out _ how to grow up, how to move on. I'm trying to navigate things as an adult and I'm not very good at it. But this is just the first record. This is just the beginning."And, hey, at least now he has a bed.

Oi Va Voi verbinden Dance-Grooves, Singer/Songwriter-Sensibilitäten und kosmopolitische Rhythmen aus Osteuropa und Nahost. Trotz (oder gerade wegen) der zerrissenen Zeiten strahlt ihr neues Album "The Water's Edge" Optimismus aus und weckt Erinnerungen an ihr bahnbrechendes Debüt "Laughter Through Tears" (BBC World Music Award, NYT Top 10 Alben 2003). Oi Va Voi sind bekannt für prominente Kollaborationen wie mit KT Tunstall, Bridgette Amofah (Rudimental) oder der Violinistin Anna Phoebe. "The Water's Edge" wurde zum Teil von Mike Spencer (Rudimental, Tom Walker, Ellie Goulding) produziert und erscheint auf dem eigenen Label Parallel Skies. Es ignoriert Kategorisierungen zugunsten dauerhafter musikalischer und sozialer Werte und ist ein Ausdruck der Notwendigkeit, Spaltungen hinter sich zu lassen und eine gemeinsame Menschlichkeit zu finden.

Oi Va Voi fuse dance grooves, singer-songwriter sensitivity and a rock’n’roll sensibility with the group’s Jewish cultural heritage and a cosmopolitan rhythmic inspiration drawn from Eastern Europe, the Middle East and beyond. Despite the fractured times we are living in, a theme of optimism through pain is there throughout Oi Va Voi’s new album ‘The Waters Edge’.

We’re reminded of the title of the breakthrough first album, Laughter Through Tears. The Bacon & Quarmby-produced debut won a BBC World Music Award, was listed as a New York Times Top Ten Album Of The Year, and launched the career of a young KT Tunstall. The tradition of world-class musicianship continued with Bridgette Amofah (Rudimental) as the featured vocalist on Travelling the Face of The Globe, and noted violinist Anna Phoebe, who recorded and performed with the band for over a decade.

Every member evolves the Oi Va Voi sound; but through each change, the core themes and vision have remained constant. 2018’s album, Memory Drop, introduced the unique voice of Zohara Niddam, and it’s Zohara who returns here on The Water’s Edge, featuring on ‘Shine A Light’, ‘Lay Your Head’ and ‘Wave’. Also featuring across the new album is composer, violinist and singer Sarah Anderson, who co-wrote seven tracks on the album, with her emotionally poignant lyrics, evocative layered vocals and uplifting violin parts. Guitarist John Matts and Trumpeter David Orchant also return, with Orchant bringing deep colour and expression to the stirring waltz ‘Oceans’.

The album opener ‘Sad Dance’ was written after the devastating earthquake that struck Turkey and Syria in early 2023 impacting many of the band’s friends, fans and colleagues. Finding themselves in the studio the day after the tragedy, the band searched for ways to respond. Sarah’’s mournful, pulsating violins create an ever evolving soundscape on top of which her own vocal, and Steve’s earthy clarinet express sorrow and hope. Says Sarah - “It’s about human connection - a metaphorical hand held through trauma, and the preservation of ‘old worlds’ through relics, reminding us of where we came from”.

‘Shine a Light’ was also a chance to welcome back producer Mike Spencer (Rudimental, Tom Walker, Ellie Goulding), who produced their second album. Here his Pop experience can be felt in the hooky dance loop, which you can hear becoming one of Oi Va Voi’s trademark live encores. Along with the melodic pop sheen of ‘Lay Your Head’, this song shows the band in an uplifting mood, pointing at the years of high-energy tours which have become their signature. These tracks, and the poignant ‘Josephine’, offer a release - a more escapist mood and a sign of the hope underneath everything.

Oi Va Voi have never been easy to categorise, and they’ve made a point of ignoring genre in favour of more enduring musical and social values. The Water’s Edge is the first album to be released on the band’s own Parallel Skies label, which will sign artists from a diversity of cultures, nations and musics in the coming years. The album title refers to an old custom from the Jewish New Year of going down to the waterside - casting off the baggage of the past, and letting it wash away on the tide. As the first release on this label it’s an expression of the need to put divisions behind us, and find a shared humanity.

j.o.y.s. is both the moniker of and the debut self-titled LP by the Los Angeles based artist Ramon Narvaez. j.o.y.s. is an acronym for “jump out of your skin”. While the phrase can conjure moments of shock and surprise, Narvaez, however uses the phrase as a foot lamp illuminating a path towards momentary transcendence through creating beautifully conjured ambient music that recalls work by Daniel Lanois, suss, Dean Hurley and Tim Hecker. While the pedal steel is prominent, j.o.y.s., as a project, is more in conversation with shoegaze and noise than what has recently been deemed ambient country. Heavy brutalist slabs of noise, swirling feedback create the sound bed of these songs. Collaborator Justin Gaynor’s pedal steel on this album operates as important connective tissue as both the road and the traveler between the light and shadow zones. Drones are wrapped in distortion, processed just below the threshold where we’d throw the word “harsh” around. Rather, there is a delicate dance between Gaynor’s top-rope pedal steel lines - always sweet and always just a bit mournful - with Narvaez’s ringing bass notes and noise chatter. j.o.y.s. revels in intransigence. Nothing can last. As Matt Colquhoun puts in the introduction to Mark Fisher’s heartbreaking Ghosts of My Life - our identity and relationship to the past are “portals in perpetual collapse”. Depression, friendship, longing are all briefly satiated while in the peak experience of creating something as a response to them. But even that is impermanent. These sounds - improvised, exploratory, ecstatic - are eventually edited, whittled down and pressed to wax - not tombs but portals to the past.

The Poison Touch delves deeper into atmosphere while maintaining the gritty undertone that defines us. From start to finish, the listener is blasted with in-your-face raw energy while simultaneously feeling like a hauntingly beautiful experience. This record captures the essence of our live sound while exploring new realms, serving as both a continuation and evolution of our style.

The New Duo Album by Piers Faccini & Ballaké Sissoko: Our Calling Two decades after their very first collaboration, British-Italian folk songwriter Piers Faccini and Malian kora virtuoso, Ballaké Sissoko return with a mesmerizing album: Our Calling. Set for release in February 2025, this fascinating dialogue between a virtuoso instrumentalist at the peak of his powers and an inspired songwriter and wordsmith, succeeds in creating new song forms with a lightness of touch that bridges continents and plays with tradition.Through ten exquisitely crafted tracks, Our Calling is a sonic and narrative praise song for migration in all its forms. The two friends"s entirely acoustic dialogue was recorded in Paris side by side and live in the studio over five days. The album"s originality is that it feels deeply Malian at i s musical core, all the while being seamlessly infused with an essence of folk songwriting, sung in the English language. Recorded by Frédéric Soulard (Shapes of the Fall), the album unites an extraordinary cast of musicians, including Vincent Segal, Badjé Tounkara, and Malik Ziad.

The Poison Touch delves deeper into atmosphere while maintaining the gritty undertone that defines us. From start to finish, the listener is blasted with in-your-face raw energy while simultaneously feeling like a hauntingly beautiful experience. This record captures the essence of our live sound while exploring new realms, serving as both a continuation and evolution of our style.

Pinkman is proud to present the debut album of darkwave artist Skelesys. Across nine evocative tracks, "Fading Echoes" navigates the tension between nostalgia and self-discovery, weaving together a moody blend of synth-pop, post-punk, and goth influences. The result is an atmospheric exploration of memory, heartache, and resilience--a soundtrack for those moments when the past refuses to stay buried, and the future feels uncertain. From the cold, creeping synths to the mournful guitar lines that echo like distant whispers, Fading Echoes immerses the listener in a soundscape where shadows and light coexist. The album has a distinct cinematic quality, evoking the smoky allure of neon-lit cityscapes and rain-slicked streets, where every track feels like a chapter in a film noir tale of introspection and escape. There's a sense of longing that runs through the album, a desire to hold onto something beautiful, even as it slips through your fingers.

A1 Northern Lights
Darkly, tense tones take center stage as Northern Lights kicks the LP off, introduced with an eerie synth before classic, striking old school breaks that aficionados will recall from the likes of John Bs Secrets drop, chopped expertly by our Spatial duo to create a quietly vengeful beat pattern with heavy kicks and a unique stuttering detail. Circling menacingly around the mix we are treated to swathes of choral detail, subtle vocal samples and shimmering ambience..

A2 Sunset on Mars
Showcasing the strengths of both producers through a delightfully rich atmosphere, Sunset on Mars opens with soothing echoed effects that ooze a welcoming sense of wonder. Delicate in composition yet still packing a punch, the breaks sit over a sumptuous deep sub bassline which carries our journey through simple key melodies, vivid mood-changing synths superbly to create a pure, wholesome atmospheric bliss.

B1 Totality
Dominant hats and cymbals surf the peaks of the mix early in Totality, detailed old school breakbeats quickly seizing our attention constructed with an effortless attention to detail. A stark, thick atmosphere is carved from a broad backdrop of sound blending vocals and synths, enveloping the listener with a dense, bleak soundscape that develops continually as the breaks roll on with memorable intent.

B2 Reincarnation
A deeply evocative, interstellar intro opens Reincarnation, generating images of lonely spacewalks with trademark Spatial aplomb. The vibe continues through a barrage of heavy analogue amens which crush the mix, edited with a chunky, commanding panache. The listener can picture pillars of isolation and thundering defiance dancing in duality as the elements weave their way fluidly throughout.

C1 Seraphim
Into an intense, epically atmospheric piece next as Seraphim channels the spirit of yesterday for a journey into the souls core via scene-trademark Hot Pants breaks, a moody 808 bassline and swirling atmospheric pads, melodies & synths. Layered with detailed FX demanding repeated listens to soak it all in, Seraphim is a special track which will take over your setlist and the journey home.

C2 Prism of Light
Sit back and relax to another slice of classic atmospheric bliss with Prism of Light, opening with a DJ-friendly hi hat intro before melodic synths generate an instantly unforgettable late-90s vibe. Hot Pants breaks drive us forward with a wondrously simple yet effective mix of 2 step and double kick edits, as blissful ambient washes and vocal hits are drizzled over the mix. Delightful.

D1 Harmonic Function A uniquely constructed beat pattern guaranteed to move you opens Harmonic Function, building up from rushing cymbals and hats intertwined with a fantastic crunchy, metallic half-time snare. Throw in a slew of mournful melodies and blanketed pad work around the mix and youre left with a superbly laid back yet danceable piece from ASC & Aural Imbalance, continually innovating in their music as ever on Spatial.

D2 Fade to Grey
Old school rhythms are on the agenda as our duo close out the album with a tense, meandering exploration through space, circling the planets through mellowed out beats before a layer of dense, analogue breaks are added to the mix as the atmosphere escalates. Exquisitely programmed vocals provide texture and feeling, while an understated bassline rumbling on below, completing a timeless collage of sound.

Words by Chris Hayes (Spatial / Red Mist)

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

In Cornish slang it is said that things get done ‘dreckly’; that is, not now, not necessarily tomorrow, but, at some indefinite point...in the future...soon...

Fitting then that when Bristol’s Langkamer decamped to their de facto home-from-home in the picturesque south-west seaside town of Falmouth to record their third album in as many years (with an EP thrown in there too) - there was no particular need to rush things: “The process was much slower and more considered for Langzamer.”, drummer/vocalist Josh Jarman explains: “The first two albums felt pretty urgent, and each was finished in about 6 months, but this one feels a lot more deliberate. It’s taken us two years to get this done.”

Equally fitting too that Langzamer kicks off proceedings with ‘Heart of Tin’: the first bars are languidly lugubrious, so deliciously plucked-out and scuzzed-up that they linger in the air like passing smoke, magically, slowing time down to their own assured and steady will. And in so much time, that also feels like no time at all, comes an opening line of such stark, disarming confessionalism as might be found in the David Berman/Silver Jews songbook: “Do you want the good news or the bad news first? // They’re both bad news, but the bad is worse” It’s Langkamer in a nutshell: embattled, heart-on-sleeve Slacker Rock slaked with twinges of fret-sliding Americana, yet deeply embedded in the folk mythologies, colloquialisms and experiences of the band’s West Country roots.

Throughout Langzamer, confronting the listener again and again is this conflict between the band’s breezy, melodic charm, and the threat of something more sinister lurking in the undergrowth. While those more familiar with Langkamer’s oeuvre to date will have already come to know and love their often self-deprecating yet witty lyricism, the songs on Langzamer take this trademark ebullient gloominess to more challenging plains: “Principally this is an album about grief, and everything that entails...” explains Jarman. “in a sense death brought these songs to life.”

This thread is felt no more so than on ‘Salvation XL’. Inspired by a “particularly bad batch of food poisoning I had in Morocco”, Jarman explains, and beginning with the memorable opening line, “Jesus came to me a Burger King in Marrakech”, the band wind their way through the ‘big topics’: death and God.

“This trip was shortly after a few of my friends had passed away, and I think a lot of my thoughts and actions at that time were being influenced by my grief without me realising it.”, he explains, “Whenever I dwell on grief, and how death has given my life a new context, I come back to that. The ongoing battle between agnosticism and atheism. I wasn’t raised in a very strict religious home, but I come from a long line of methodists, and it’s interesting to think about the way theism and religion have shaped my life without me knowing it. I think that’s being channelled on this album a lot. The uncertainty that comes with disbelief.”

Our collective mortal frailties are also felt on lead single ‘Richard E Grant’. With a trademark bittersweetness, a track that begins as an appreciation of the actor’s humorous social media presence unfolds as a study on “finding healthy coping strategies to deal with loss.”. Elsewhere, ‘At The Lake’ - to the tune of mournful, folk-like balladry - explores binge-drinking culture and the troubled association between unhealthy behaviour and creativity. The listener is left in no mind as to the meaning behind the references to James Joyce and Janis Jopin as “souvenirs stolen from the dark”.

With themes as weighty as these strewn across the album’s 10 tracks, It seemed like a particularly astute move then for the band to personally approach Ben Woods, founder of the Golden Dregs, to assist on production duties. Not only would the delicate intimacies of Woods’ main project - see 2023’s On Grace & Dignity for reference - add an appropriate moodiness, but Woods was also born and raised in Cornwall, where the album was recorded; amidst “eating pasties” and breaks by the sea, Woods and the band transformed the vaults underneath iconic Falmouth venue The Cornish Bank into a makeshift studio for a weeks’ worth of recording. Occasionally friends would drop by to lighten the load; Zander Sharp tracking violin on ’Double Island’ and ‘Flight’; Josh Law and Ben Sadler of Breakfast Records labelmates Getdown Services, both of whom contribute to the soul-stirring ‘mountain’ chorus on ‘Aberfan’.

When compared to the brightness of 2023’s The Noon and Midnight Manual, Woods’ influence on the record seems indisputable. On the aforementioned ‘At The Lake’, for instance, which features backing vocals from Woods. Or, most acutely, on the piano strains of harrowing closer ‘Bluff’, a track with such chilling, spectral severity as to effect the band’s most heartbreaking effort to date. While it’s particularly sombre note on which end proceedings, it's also an appropriate one: Langzamer bravely stands tall as their most restrained, matured, and sincere collection to date. And almost by virtue of its impeccable honesty, those moments of sunshine-joy that creep through the cracks feel that much more golden.

C
elestial Season originally started as an early death/doom metal band. Having released their first material in 1992, the Dutch band developed a romantic, violin-led sound which partially mirrored (but mostly coincidentally existed with) the classic ‘Hammy‘ Peaceville sound (My Dying Bride, Anathema, Paradise Lost a.o.). Having released two classic gothic/death/doom metal albums (“Forever Scarlet Passion“- 1993 and “Solar Lovers“- 1995), Celestial Season abruptly shifted to a more stoner rock-oriented sound, casting off their original doom metal sound for half a decade before folding in 2001. In the year 2011 Celestial Season surprisingly regrouped with a mix of their ‘doom era’-line-ups. The fans had to wait until 2020 though for new music when the “The Secret Teachings“-album saw the light, which marked their definitive return to their original ‘sad & slow‘ doom sound. In 2022, we were blessed with yet another Celestial Season album. “Mysterium I“ was a further continuation of that classic 1990s gloomy doom sound, and “Mysterium II” was their next treat 2023. This new album “Mysterium III” - the last and final chapter of this trilogy - picks up where “I” and “II” left off stylistically, but now with even more intriguing weeping string sections, forlorn piano lines & slow-moving doom compositions, full of bleak despair and melancholic beauty!

Late Night Tales and Bonobo were pretty much made for each other, it just took them a while to both realise it. Stepping forward into the compilers spotlight for the 33rd edition is Simon Green - aka Bonobo - a musician, producer and DJ perfectly suited to soundtrack an evening spent reclining to some parallel beats. Six albums to the good (most recently 'The North Borders' released earlier in 2013), Green has been on a winning streak since 2010's breakthrough 'Black Sands', which has now sold in excess of 160,000 copies. His music has aided the sales of Citroen cars and Olay creams, as well as soothing the puzzlement of Lost. Wrapped in delicately programmed drums, Green's music is at once both sombre and reassuring. If what comes out the other end is the music of Bonobo, then this is the fuel that keeps the engine running: soul, jazz, classical, pop, funk, leftfield, rock. Pianos and brass are abundantly present. Our ivories are warmed and tickled by the classic, Bill Evans, and new school, with Matthew Bourne's mournfully beautiful 'Juliet' and Dustin O'Halloran's 'An Ending A Beginning'. The brass section comes courtesy of Menehan Street Band's jazzy 'The Traitor', 'Flipside' by the Hypnotic Brass Band. Exclusives include YouTube sensation 'One Thing' by Peter & Kerry . Not only that, but there's Bonobo's special LNT cover version, a brilliant reading of Donovan's 'Get Thy Bearings', As the light dims, the unsettling sounds of Lapalux or maybe even Shlomo pierce the misty evening air, before giving way to the ethereal splendour of Eddi Front's 'Gigantic' or even Nina's paean to an imagined rural idyll 'Baltimore'. Amble down to the riverside. It could be the Great Ouse, as willows weep into the water; it could even be in Brooklyn overlooking the Lower East Side, as the sun slides down the sides of the skyscrapers. Take a notepad for inspiration. Maybe even a hipflask for a slug of something warm. Sit down and reflect and let those beautiful pianos skim the water's surface. Sometimes, you think, life is good. You can't play a symphony alone, it takes an orchestra to play it: Simon Green is your conductor.

Originally released on tape by SicSic in 2014, Aprilnacht commemorates a decade of music from Brannten Schnüre and marked the spring in a tetralogy of albums about the four seasons when it came out. Back then the Würzburg-based project consisted solely of Christian Schoppik, who later welcomed Katie Rich to take over the vocals. He used to perform as Agnes Beil, but dropped the name when, while making this album realized his music was becoming "much gentler and more fragile". Aprilnacht already captured the particular musical ideas that Schoppik would thoroughly keep exploring, delving deeper and deeper into the use and manipulation of samplers from sources so diverging as to wander between the five continents to post-war German family television and cult cinema. Heir of the ritualistic intensity of Coil, of the intricate sampler assemblies of Ghédalia Tazartès', and of the dusty, dismal old ballads from around the world, Brannten Schnüre manages to make these paths cross in a territory that is as inherent as it is uncanny; sieged by the past and intimate as a hearth. An organic approach to folk, ambient, and sound collage, where ethereal yet thoroughly textured pieces coalesce in enthralling, delicate, and innermost musical rituals.

The album cover paintings reveal the temper: dreary old towns where shadows come to dim the slow passage of crepuscular colors, a soft area of reanimation where wind and light come close and foresee the night of spring. Aprilnacht was inspired by the stories of German philosopher and writer Friedrich Alfred Schmid Noerr, whose work exhaustively examines the conflict between paganism and Christianity, safeguarding myth in a way that Schoppik describes as boldly modern, humorous and unpredictable in its variations of the Germanic folklore motifs. "I wanted to do the same with the music," he states, and the music here could as well be suitable for a night when household deities welcome wandering will-o'-the-wisps, water nymphs, and gyrovagues to discuss Perchta's leadership of The Wild Hunt, but this album is not a folk tale, it's not an elegy to worlds already gone, hidden in years; it's an intersection of routes that open mysteriously before our ears like a congregation of vapors. Aprilnacht is a gathering of voices; "There are too many children, and none of them keeps quiet," reads the last verse of «Requiem für eine Ringelnatter.»

Sensuality drips over the music to celebrate both the voluptuousness and tragic quality of nature; "It's raining on me, urine from your flowers," Schoppik sings in «Urin deiner Blüten» and later on, faced with a snake's erotic features, as if he wanted to be embraced by it: "Your quick, sharp tongue and your warm venom; that's what the pond is missing." Orality is where this profusion of contents thrives. When the voices get closer and condense, the words reveal the saliva employed to pronounce them; we feel the mouth and the tongue, but when breath envelops them in sorrow and softens their edges, they sound distant, diffused in the atmosphere, letting go of the body that held them. These two vocal facets oscillate permanently and interact naturally with the fertile assembly of samplers and instruments that develop throughout the album, which condense and disperse impersonating each other, interweaving to search for a specific syntax. Tangled whisperings of enigmatic phrases, timid voices that stick out to check the scene but hide away quickly, shivering trance chants and monastic ambiances, distant screams and clamors in between chaos and warfare swirl until bursting into subtle songs where even Mother Mary comes forth softly. Soothed by foggy atmospheres and crackling punctuations, these voices shape a vulnerable crowd, an occasion of fragility. Along this swarm of songs thrown into thin air, accordions sound like heavy-breathing lungs; clarinets sigh like curtains shaking; violin solos wander around like bees; Gjallarhorns cries distend like fleeing cattle; glockenspiels evoke remote music boxes and inherited toys; backward emanations emerge like slender waves retreating. On the banks of stretching loops and ember textures is where the songs slowly nest, collecting the words to find their tone.

A poem by Jorge Teillier says, "To talk with the dead you have to choose words that they recognize as easily as their hands recognized the fur of their dogs in the dark. To talk with the dead you have to know how to wait: they are fearful like the first steps of a child. But if we are patient one day they will answer us with a flame that suddenly revives in the fireplace." This may be Brannten Schnüre's main purpose: To find the voice to speak to those of whom we were a vision. Not in mourning, but acknowledging the obscure and volatile nature of spring's regenerative force, searching for the treasure of balance, as evidenced in the lyrics of «Requiem für ein Schwalbennest,» "Its nest was destroyed so many times before it was finished, and despite that, the shallow builds as if it is infatuated." The same idea is here in the words of Schmid Noerr, who made poetry an act of resistance to the horror of Nazism; "Since having seen the ability of a brilliant spirit to die, with a calm mouth that everyone saw, health is true again and we affirm it, even if rivers of blood flow." And as we call for the dusk's kindness, waiting to return home and eat with our kin by the stove, our ears become used to the games of the night. We feel like we're rowing on wetlands, while the "moon musick" keeps us vigilant against the slightest movement of water or sweet moan because eeriness here is imperative for survival. Do not succumb to the insipid howl of death, for nothing may last but mutability. You see, the rock has moved a little during the night; the rest is just wind fleeing from the void.

Stephen EvEns highly anticipated new album Here Come the Lights is set for release, March 29, the album is self-produced and mastered with Sean McGee (Abbey Road) will be released via Onomatopoeia (Hurtling, William D. Drake, Crayola Lectern). The album celebrates the recent success of his limited-edition vinyl only release, Smoking Is Cool (recorded with Steve Albini). Here Come The Lights takes a step into the future, as folk-art tales are interspersed with psych rock magic and post-punk sensibilities amidst swooping and motoric guitars, sound effects and metronomic happenings, in this rich tapestry of life. A Song For Europe teases, cracking, and fizzing onto our radar, this ‘love affair to Europe’ is a celebration of a continent and moments in time, complete with virtuoso guitar, full backing choir and grunge atmospherics. Firefly has a pure folk aesthetic, sound effects, symphonies, and percussion combine in a call to find one’s true strength. BBQ Head picks-up more of a groove, interspersed with rapping style lyrics fused with the fuzzy intermission of 7 Bells. Lazy Eyes takes on a more mournful and melancholic hue, depicting a couple’s evasive looks over dinner, as they avoid the elephant in the room, cracks into a soaring space-rock ending. A Tree takes us on a kaleidoscopic journey into the forest, as EvEns takes a moment out from modern life, where he and his dog Rudy escape into the autumnal wilderness. A Bee takes on a more high glam Roxy Music appeal meets 70s novelty pop, fun and exhilarating. The album is polished off with a song of hope called Happy New Year, metronomic beginnings, gentle Hammond orchestrations weigh-up the importance of friendship and the meaning of success. Multi-instrumentalist and talented musician Stephen EvEns tours with his own guitar and full band line-up. The album welcomes a whole host of Brixton Hill Studios collaborators, accompanied by former Echobelly/Curve bassist Debbie Smith, Cardiacs alumni Bob Leith and William D. Drake, and Hurtling guitarist and sometime My Bloody Valentine keyboard player Jenny Macro, Stephen EvEns plays live at The Lexington, alongside labelmates from Onomatopoeia

Experimental metal trio LOCRIAN are a prophetic voice of decline and a pioneering force in the world of metal. LOCRIAN’s sonic tapestry weaves elements of black metal, ambient, and experimental music, creating a genre-defying experience that pushes the boundaries of conventional metal norms. Their new album “End Terrain” set for release on April 05, is the proper follow-up to 2015’s “Infinite Dissolution” (Relapse Records) and continues in the vein of LOCRIAN’s distinguishable sonic blueprint brought forth from said release along with such albums as the Relapse Records released “Return To Annihilation” and “The Clearing/The Final Epoch”. 2022 saw the return of LOCRIAN making their return on their Profound Lore debut “New Catastrophism” which saw the trio explore and return back to the more experimental side of their roots.

“End Terrain” is the group’s most direct and concise work to date. More complex and layered than anything in the prolific trio’s catalog, “End Terrain” is a concept album exposing a vision of a future earth consumed by waste. An apocalyptic landscape, inhabited by a generation who despise their parentage and a dying breed fully aware of the wasteland they have left. Mountains of trash and an uninhabitable planet, endless and dead. End Terrain is about inertia and regret, about the future and a mirror to the present, about mourning and extinction.

A seamless and harrowing blend of experimental, post-rock, and post-metal, “End Terrain” is the perfect manifestation of modern, forward-thinking experimental music pushed to a maximalist conclusion.

In the ever-evolving realm of extreme music, LOCRIAN stands as a testament to the power of artistic exploration. Their geographical spread mirrors the expansive sonic landscapes they traverse, cementing their status as trailblazers in the avant-garde metal scene.

"Locrian are a many-tendriled beast. The formerly Chicago-based trio, having released a myriad of albums ranging from abstract guitar noise to krautrock-and-drone-informed metal, are poised to release their first "song-based" album since 2015's Infinite Dissolution (compared to 2022's New Catastrophism–an improvisation-guided, full-band drone and noise album). End Terrain is a high-concept, intense album, telling a very pers

Vom HEXWORKS Art-Team entworfene Deluxe-Ausgabe des OST für das Action-RPG "Lords Of The Fallen" (2023), sorgfältig für 180g Triple-Vinyl gemastert. Die mehrfach preisgekrönten Komponisten Cris Velasco und Knut Avenstroup Haugen erzeugen ein aufwändes Dark-Fantasy-Meisterwerk zwischen romantischer Oper, Mozarts Requiem-Messen, dissonanter Klassik des 20. Jahrhunderts und großartigen Horrorfilm-Soundtracks. Teils live aufgenommen mit dem Budapest Scoring Orchestra & Choir, den Solist*innen Eurielle und Jess Dandy, dem Solocellisten des London Symphony Orchestra, David Cohen, und dem Flötisten Tony Hinnigan (bekannt aus Hollywood-Scores wie "Titanic" und "Avatar").

Die Queen Of Death Gospel, Louise Lemón, verbindet auf ihrer dritten LP 'Lifetime Of Tears', produziert von Randall Dunn (Björk, Zola Jesus, Marissa Nadler), tiefe, dunkle Untertöne mit einem unerschütterlichen Glauben an das Licht und der Fähigkeit, über sich hinauszuwachsen. Mit ihrem fesselnden Noir-Sound zaubert sie Schönheit aus der Ungleichheit. Der Titeltrack, eine gefühlvolle Rockballade voller intensiver Emotionen, ist eine Hommage an ihre 1970er Einflüsse wie Fleetwood Mac und The Allman Brothers, mit dem sie an Cat Power, Lana Del Rey und PJ Harvey erinnert.

Axis of Time is the stunning debut album from Philadelphia mallet percussionist and poet Angelo Outlaw. Featuring Eraserhood Sound's signature synth & soul production, Axis of Time is a dazzling blend of jazz, rare groove, funk, soul and r&b. According to Outlaw, the album is meant to transport the listener to a dream-like state, where space and time slowly fade away and reality is merely a distant memory. Each song sets a unique scene, as the pace of the music swells and sways_from the euphoric highs of lead single "Free My Mind" and uninhibited groove of "Speed of Light" to the trance-like meditation of "Dreams" and mournful melodies of "Invisible Clock," Angelo and the Eraserhood Sound house band truly go to the cosmos and back. The record is an extraordinary debut from Outlaw, a young gay Black man who hopes to serve as an inspiration to others who might be perceived as different or other. His work transcends race, creed, religion, and politics, and has the power to speak to the universality of time, space, and human connection.

Axis of Time is the stunning debut album from Philadelphia mallet percussionist and poet Angelo Outlaw. Featuring Eraserhood Sound's signature synth & soul production, Axis of Time is a dazzling blend of jazz, rare groove, funk, soul and r&b. According to Outlaw, the album is meant to transport the listener to a dream-like state, where space and time slowly fade away and reality is merely a distant memory. Each song sets a unique scene, as the pace of the music swells and sways_from the euphoric highs of lead single "Free My Mind" and uninhibited groove of "Speed of Light" to the trance-like meditation of "Dreams" and mournful melodies of "Invisible Clock," Angelo and the Eraserhood Sound house band truly go to the cosmos and back. The record is an extraordinary debut from Outlaw, a young gay Black man who hopes to serve as an inspiration to others who might be perceived as different or other. His work transcends race, creed, religion, and politics, and has the power to speak to the universality of time, space, and human connection.

The heavyweight trio of Keiji Haino, Jim O’Rourke and Oren Ambarchi return with their 12th and most epic release to date, the triple LP With pats on the head, just one too few is evil one too many is good that's all it is. Documenting the entirety of their final performance at the dearly departed Roppongi home of Tokyo underground institution SuperDeluxe in November 2018, the music spread across these six sides splits the difference between the guitar-bass-drums power trio moves and experiments with novel instrumentation that have defined the trio’s decade of working together. Containing some of the most delicate music the three have committed to wax since the gorgeous 12-string acoustic guitar and dulcimer tones of Only wanting to melt beautifully away is it a lack of contentment that stirs affection for those things said to be as of yet unseen (BT011), this wide-ranging release also offers up some of their most blistering free rock performances yet.

The side-long opening piece finds Haino on a single snare drum in duet with O’Rourke on unamplified electric guitar, playing in the lovely post-Bailey vein heard on his classic 90s recordings with Henry Kaiser and Mats Gustafsson. Spiky dissonance and ringing harmonics interweave with flowing melodic fragments as Haino single-mindedly explores the resonance of the snare like an untutored Han Bennink. On ‘Right brain, left brain; right, left; right wing, left wing. Just how many combinations can be made from these?’, O’Rourke moves to synth and electronics, joined by Ambarchi on drums, who at first focuses on sizzle cymbals before hypnotic cycles of gentle tom rhythms combine with electronic burbles and flutters to suggest a dream collaboration between Masahiko Togashi and Jean Schwarz. Ambarchi’s percussion is then joined by Haino on wandering, overblown flute, before the man in black switches back to the snare for a bizarre, stuttering drum duet.

For the first trio performance, Haino makes another new addition to his seemingly infinite catalogue of instruments, this time a homemade contraption he refers to as ‘Strings of Dubious Reputation’. Joined by O’Rourke on increasingly spaced-out electric guitar and Ambarchi on skittering percussion, Haino’s wonky, slack strings adds a definite ‘musique brut’ edge to this side-long performance, certainly one of the most enchantingly odd in the trio’s discography. When the group reconvene for the second set, spread out across the final three sides, they seem ready to breathe fire from the first instant. O’Rourke slashes distorted chords on the six-string bass, Ambarchi breaks into his signature irregular caveman thump, and Haino squeals and squawks on heavily delayed oboe before unleashing an overpowering electrical storm when he first picks up the guitar. For over half an hour, the trio pound out one of their most relentless performances, a constantly rearranging kaleidoscope of tortured fuzz guitar, insanely busy bass riffing and propulsive, tumbling drums. A hushed atmosphere initially reigns on the final long piece, given the mournful title ‘There are always things I wish to say but I can only convey them in this language August 6 August 9’. Haino’s clean guitar strumming calls up the shimmering tones of his PSF classic Affection, gradually building to a surging wall of sound, bass and drums lumbering through a roar of jet-engine guitar. Arriving in a deluxe trifold package with photos by Lasse Marhaug alongside inner sleeves with extensive live images, this epic release is perhaps the most remarkable document yet of this unique trio’s stamina and continuing inventiveness.

Texan country blues legend Lightnin’ Hopkins was a fingerpicking genius with a mournful voice who, after a spell in prison, first came to prominence through recordings for Aladdin and Gold Star in the late 1940s. Somehow, by the mid-1950s, his star had waned, but when Samuel Charters appeared at his one-room Houston apartment with a bottle of gin, Hopkins agreed to cut ten unaccompanied songs for Folkways, the resultant Lightnin’ a pivotal success that reignited his career, sparking the blues revival in the process. Full of haunting loneliness, despair, sly innuendo and doses of good humour, this must-have LP is absolutely brilliant!

Whisky soaked, nocturnal, brooding. Aging’s album »Troubles? I Got A Bartender« was a noteworthy, film-noir infused suite that quietly slipped out on cassette in 2015 by a then budding Manchester avant-jazz ensemble, led by David McLean.

In 2020, amidst the pandemic’s tempest and winter's gloom, the idea manifested of showcasing McLean’s slow burning, wistful soirée in a new light via a curated effort by Berlin’s Vaagner label, which invited a series of hand-picked artist to rework selected compositions from the album, rendering its mournful, smoke-tinged resonances into new shapes.

Its result is »Reworks (Rewoven)«, and it presents 6 new interpretations by 5 artists. These range from ruminating, tape smudged ambient works interlaced with sublime acoustic strums by fellow Manchester musicians The Humble Bee and Tape Loop Orchestra, to poignant steel guitar renditions by Nashville based Kelby Clark. Furthermore, Barcelona based Dania and London based Laila Sakini, each present pieces that draw the listener into opaque realms harbored by swooning reverie and eerie, glistening prophecy.

Carefully assembled across two sides of vinyl, McLean’s penchant for hard-boiled detective novels, vintage Japanese crime flicks and film noir iconography have a continued lurking presence in the reworks, yet the new pieces each add a modern facet to the original’s cinematic narrative, its morose and sulky mood now opening into new avenues of interpretation. And whilst some artists have chosen to dive further into the themes of contentious ambivalence and pensive solitude, others have sought to slightly lift the haze, stirring up melodies tinged with a sense of hope, hinting at times, towards instants of poise and vivacity.

In the end this leaves us with a new body of work that manages to feel poignant in its complexity whilst remaining dissonant and elusive in its renditions, hinting at a modern day existence even more opaque, intricate and convoluted than the film noir classics of old might have pictured the world.