quête:p e a r l the fall of because

15 Jahre nach seinem frühen Tod feiert - The 20th Century Records Albums (1973-1979)' Barry White als einen der größten Künstler / Songwriter / Produzenten der 70er Jahre. Er etablierte den neuen Klang der Orchesterseele, der über das Jahrzehnt und darüber hinaus zu einem Grundbestandteil wurde. Das Vinyl-Box-Set enthält alle 9 LP-Alben, die Barry White über das Label 20th Century Records veröffentlicht hat und werden hier zum ersten Mal zusammengestellt. Alle neun Alben wurden zum ersten Mal seit ihrer Veröffentlichung in den 70er Jahren von den originalen analogen Masterbändern remastert und werden hier mit ihrem originalen Sleeve und Label Art präsentiert. Die Alben wurden in den Abbey Road Studios in London auf hochwertigem 180g Vinyl geschnitten, um die höchstmögliche Audioqualität zu garantieren.





















































[ZZA] q4 | Oh Me, Oh My (I'm Such a Lucky Guy)
[ZZB] r1 | I Can't Leave You Alone
[ZZC] r2 | Call Me, Baby
[ZZD] r3 | How Did You Know It Was Me

Growing together both personally and musically… That is indeed the good fortune of the musicians in the Marseille-based trio ubaq. We’re talking about bassist Antoine Carletto, guitarist Lucas Schemidt, and drummer Antoine Saussol, winners of the Rezzo springboard competition at Jazz à Vienne 2025. In their early twenties, they met in their late teens while still honing their musical skills. Nearly ten years later, they burst onto the scene, in perfect harmony, with their very first album, “Night WIP,” a follow-up to their EP, “20bis,” released in 2024. They owe their stylized stage name—written in lowercase with a “q”—to the ubac, that side of a mountain with very little sun exposure, where twilight reigns. “We liked that idea because we’re night owls,” says bassist Antoine Carletto. Hence the “night” for “nuit” and the “WIP” for “Work In Progress,” explains guitarist Lucas Shemidt. ubaq’s music is characterized by a nocturnal, melancholic heaviness, pierced by beams of light. “We love creating music that soothes us and highlights the precious nature of composing and playing in complete harmony,” says Antoine Carletto. “We cultivate complex tones, sometimes difficult to bear, whether they’re nostalgic or even verging on depression. But we manage to convey emotions without falling into clichés,” adds Antoine Saussol. Night and twilight serve as the perfect catalysts for this trio, which moves forward with perfect chemistry and harmony.

On this album, they feature the German-Armenian rapper and singer Talin, who is also based in Marseille. She appears on the track “Regarding Others,” where she chants that even though the year 2026 may see mothers weeping in every corner of the world, she still manages to smile. Thus, this track explores the three musicians’ relationship with the world and the necessity of looking at others. The unsettling “Sciatiq,” the haunting “Sakakinik,” and the ambivalence of “Flayosc”—the final track, on which the trio features trombonist Jules Regard—owe their titles to the musicians’ own observations and experiences. The multi-faceted track “Proud,” in two parts, is a tribute to Lucas Schemidt’s mother, who has since passed away. The presence of wind instruments—whether Jules Regard’s trombone or Mathieu Fabre’s saxophone on the intense track “From The Ending”—adds textures missing from the natural landscape depicted in “Night WIP.” This debut album captures the obsessions and introspective wanderings—sometimes anxious, sometimes enchanted—of a trio that cultivates melody as a pledge of warm fulfillment.

When Ryan DeRobertis announced the name change of his project from Saint Pepsi to Skylar Spence, there was no indication of any stylistic departure, though the change arrived with a musical shift toward faster tempos and more pristine production. Whereas Saint Pepsi had often used decades-old boogie, disco, and new wave as grist for the sampling mill, Skylar Spence is intent on trafficking more overtly in those genre aesthetics through his own production techniques and vocal contributions. With Prom King, DeRobertis reorients his music for his new full-band live act and winds up with an album full of tight and enveloping dance tunes.

Working with Carpark Records 'gave me the confidence to 'go big' with the new material: to write pop songs with universal messages in the sonic wrapping paper that I've grown accustomed to,' DeRobertis says. 'A few songs on Prom King are about specific events in my life—a party where I got too messed up, watching a friend's life spiral out of control and trying to help—but I tried hard not to be too autobiographical because I want my music to unite, above all else. I'm much more interested in connecting with the listener than mystifying my personality.'

While DeRobertis' previous long-players have been more amorphous collections in the style of beat tapes, Prom King is compact and cohesive, with the album's varied stylistic references (new wave, UK garage, boogie) united through strong guitar melodies and Todd Edwards-ian cobblings-together of tiny vocal samples. 'I slowed some music down and called myself an artist,' DeRobertis sings on lead single 'Can't You See,' acknowledging in his lyrics what is already apparent in the music's tone—he can maintain fidelity to his vision while working in more uptempo, disco-based song structures.

'Ridiculous!' and 'Bounce Is Back' are big groovers that capitalize on jacking hi-hats and hand drumming, respectively, and both have an air of Balearic warmth and smoothness. On the title track, DeRobertis entwines a chorus of unintelligible but expressive samples with his own vocals—what feels like a synthesis of two approaches—and the result is an affecting pattern of build and release. More contemplative sophisti-pop numbers like 'Fall Harder' and 'Affairs' add a realist's breadth of scope: thoughts of past foibles bleed into present-dwelling and dancing.

Prom King is DeRobertis making sense of missed opportunities. His high school did not have a prom king; he has filled the position with an imaginative album of personal and musical revisionism.

Selection of IKIGAI Album by Nadia Struiwigh. IKIGAI was born in the quiet space between grief and remembering... Made entirely on hardware, from my living room in Berlin near Hermannplatz (my dad's name is Herman -- the odds), in the months my father passed away. Every sound, every sequence, every texture carries his fingerprint. Not because he made music, but because he made me love gadgets. Circuits, signals, blinking lights. He was the man who opened me up to machines and taught me how, eventually, to listen to them and use them for my craft. The name IKIGAI, a Japanese word for ''reason for being,'' found me when I was at a crossroads. The kind where you ask yourself: Why am I still here? What am I still creating for? What part of me still believes in beauty when everything feels like it's falling apart? These pieces came through slowly, on Japanese gear like Yamaha SEQTRAK, KORG, Roland -- like threads weaving a tapestry I didn't know I was making. Each track is a kind of purge... to him, to myself, to the listeners who find themselves in the in-between. The space where you're not who you were, and not yet who you're becoming. I found myself back into soundscapes and Ambient with a touch of Electronica. I weaved in sounds I captured from daily life, memories -- like the laugh of my sister. I built in silence and let the machines cry for me and let them tell the story I couldn't find the words for. IKIGAI is spacious. It's not trying to impress anyone. It's trying to just be, and hold space for all kinds of emotions. It moves like memory... slow, sacred, shifting. This release needs to be close to home, and will be released on my own imprint Distorted Waves, on the day 11.11 -- which refers to my first album that my dad had hanging up in his shed. For my father. Nadia

Soul Jazz Records’ new 20th anniversary one-off limited-edition heavyweight special-edition coloured vinyl pressing + download code exclusively for Record Store Day 2023 of Soul Jazz Records’ New York Noise: Dance Music from The New York Underground 1978-82.
‘New York Noise is a comprehensive look at the post-punk and no wave era, a short period in time whose influence is still immeasurable and sensed today.’ The Guardian
‘One of the most satisfying archival collections, Soul Jazz’s compilation New York Noise 1978-1982, gathers far-reaching tracks from such diverse acts as Liquid Liquid, Material, and Glenn Branca.’ Pitchfork
This new 2023 edition features classic New York post-punk, punk funk, synth wave and no wave tracks from Arthur Russell/Dinosaur L, James White and the Contortions, The Theoretical Girls, Mars, Konk, Material, Bush Tetras, Lizzy Mercier Descloux alongside rare tracks by the likes of Alan Vega (Suicide), Chain Gang and Implog.
‘New York Noise’ sums up the point in time and space where dance music and punk rock first met as New York’s No Wave artists such as Glenn Branca, James White alongside new york dance music’s experimental pioneers such as Arthur Russell (Dinosaur l), Bill Laswell (Material), and Konk created new musical art forms out of this union.
‘Compilations like this are necessary because they document bygone fragments of time and keep them alive for younger generations. Compilations like
this are dangerous because they tend to fall in the hands
of young bands who spend more time looking behind
than ahead.’ All Music

Xylitol, aka producer and DJ Catherine Backhouse, shifts up the refinement and musical breadth for her second album Blumenfantasie, the follow-up to her Planet Mu debut Anemones.
With Blumenfantasie, Xylitol wanted “to make space and for the music to float and propel at once”, finding routes through the pointillistic figures, cascading synths and the meditative stillness of kosmische musik and bolder breakbeat programming. She reaches this delicate balance through careful subtraction, hoping “to convey a sense of intimacy and sadness but without sentimentality” which she manages with a feel and sound that's raw and intuitive.

Blumenfantasie rolls through detailed jungle workouts that flutter and bleep, through beatless ambience, taking a rare dip below 160 bpm for the elegiac Mirjana, the album’s most explicit nod to Krautrock with a drum break chopped up from Amon Duul II’s anthemic ‘Archangel’s Thunderbird’, through to Halo, a bare bones grime rhythm that calls to mind the missing link between industrial pioneers Nurse With Wound and Wiley's Eskibeat.

Catherine cast her net to draw in experimental audiovisual duo Sculpture and Reading based post-rock band The Leaf Library as collaborators, pulling the former’s whirling eddies of musique concrète into a slice of sublime aquatic jungle, and the latter’s radiophonic folksong into a dark and disorientating breakbeat workout equally indebted to Source Direct as to Broadcast.
Blumenfantasie moves with a confident, self-effacing fluidity which has been informed by DJ Bunnyhausen’s more regular DJ gigs. She speculates ‘if this album feels more cohesive than its predecessor it's likely because I've been DJing a lot more, with Worthing Techno Militia, with central and eastern european electronica collective Slav to the Rhythm, as well as being part of Italo Disco crew Flex. Moving between these zones seemed to open up hidden pathways between the disparate musical trajectories they represent.'
While Anemones contrasted the rough and the delicate, its successor is an album built for the head, hips and heart, with painterly sounds and a sense of intimacy that encourages deep listening while keeping its eyes on the strobelight and its feet on the dancefloor.

2026 Repress

Whether in the studio or the club, Daphni has always been a pursuit where Dan Snaith lets the music find its own path. With Cherry this is more evident than ever, this sense of the tracks as objects with life and desires outside of Snaith’s control has now become a driving force in their creation. "There isn't anything obvious that unifies it or makes it hang together" Snaith says, "I think it was good that it was made without worrying about any of that. I just made it."
Recorded over a prolonged period, Snaith let the music go where it wanted to go. It wasn’t until he put everything he’d been tinkering with together that he realised what he had. "It's weird that when the tracks were put in what felt like the right order it took on a new coherence" he says, "where it pings quickly from one idea to the next and, at least for me, hangs together in way that feels unified. Maybe because it's hard to avoid the musical fingerprints I leave on the music I make, whether I want to or not."
The component parts have this same sense of independence, the essence of Daphni always present over music that is more free-wheeling than it’s ever been, almost escaping Snaith's grasp as it tumbles and spirals. "As is often the case when you're working quickly and intuitively, new pieces of equipment played a part" he says.
New gear and ways of working meant Snaith was able to sit at the centre of the music but let things get away from him a bit more as equipment began to make its own decisions before reeling it back in to suit his purposes, or as he puts it "getting the snake to eat its own tail".

Making this album was an absolute joy. We used Rothko’s artwork as a major influence. His use of colour fields, blending, mood and scale really helped us build an album of tracks that could stand on their own and also work together as a coherent whole across all the tones we had been working with. It was also a chance to fall back in love with our 909, 808 and 707.

While working on music for several other projects, the “Rothko” project got renamed Loud Ambient because it did not really sit right with the My Brutal Life series. We often talked about what people make of The Black Dog and whether they think we only make ambient music. We do not. Over the last year or so, one of us would be working on something and someone else would say, “That is a Loud Ambient track.” The name stuck. We liked the funny side of it.

With Loud Ambient, everything just fell into place creatively. Surprisingly for us, the tracklisting never changed, just small tweaks here and there. That rarely happens. It marks a first for us as a band. All the stars aligned and the confidence in this album is the strongest we have ever had.

Loud Ambient was made to dance to, something we have not done in a while. We welcome the return to the dancefloor with both hands. Will you join us?

Aimer Perdre is a movie by the Guit Brothers and tells the story of Armande Pigeon; the queen of shenanigans. In Brussels, she struggles to make ends meet because she can’t stop gambling on everything, always ending up on the wrong side of luck. When she teams up with Ronnie one night, everything changes – they win it all. And when you hit a winning streak, you have to know when to stop.

For Aimer Perdre, Brooklyn NY native Simon Hanes travelled to Brussels in order to work directly with the directors, synchronizing the editing of the film with the composition of the soundtrack so that both processes would influence each other. Hanes and the Guits spent 3 months working alongside each other almost every day, passing ideas back and forth and allowing the soundtrack to grow organically. The music is an honest representation of Hanes’ experiences over those months, which he spent couch surfing across Brussels, sharing meals and ideas with new friends in broken refrains of French and English – falling asleep at the Cinémathèque, and occasionally breaking into abandoned buildings…but thats a story for another time.

Throughout all this, Simon hired musicians he met in bars, members of the Brussels experimental/artistic community, singers from a choir that was rehearsing in the squat where the Guits built their editing room…All the while sculpting the soundtrack out of these seemingly dissolute elements and constantly blurring the line between the compositional process and his day to day life.

Finally the process culminated in hiring the FAMES string orchestra for ONE SINGLE HOUR (all they could afford) to achieve the full orchestral sound the film’s climax so clearly needed.

The end result, like the film itself, is a reflection of life – a hodgepodge of sounds, colors and ideas that come together to create a beautiful, unique tapestry, sometimes harmonious, other times less so.

Comes with a limited edition flexidisc with a bonus track.

New album from the South African musician + creative visionary, known for her vibrant, inimitable style + affirming lyricism Full Moon is a collection of 12 songs which displays Sanelly's unique sonic fingerprint, joyous attitude, distinctive vocals + genre-bending hits. Recorded in multiple locations while on the road, Full Moon is an introspective yet kinetic display of her versatility. "I can make any genre, I have fun creating music because I'm not limited," she says. Its club- ready beats oscillate between electronic, afro-punk, edgy-pop, kwaito, + hip-hop sensibilities. Produced by Johan Hugo (Diplo, MIA, Self Esteem)

You Are The Morning was formed amid personal upheaval in 2021. "I came out as trans to my nearest and dearest," she says, "Some did not accept me, but some did." Jasmine got divorced, and a difficult home life meant she was writing while experiencing homelessness and precarious housing, sleeping on friend's couches and relying on community support. Despite the pain of some of its background, the record is an uplifting look at t4t love. Jasmine describes her first trans romance as the first time she experienced joy in a deep sense, because of her experience of living as a woman. First single `Skin on Skin' explores the new joy of physical touch. Usually a quick writer, it's a rare song that grew over time, during which a close connection with a friend began to form. "Sticking to the physical boundaries we wanted to have with each other became increasingly difficult. We were spending lots of time together, then falling in love. This song became a celebration of healing and physical catharsis found through unrepressed queer love." The first UK signee on Saddest Factory Records, the album was produced by Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus. Jasmine and her band travelled to L.A. to record at Sound City Studios. It was made across 12 days in a highly collaborative and emotional process, and because Jasmine sees her songs as fluid and ever-changing, the recordings carry that free and spontaneous spirit. jasmine.4.t is supported by an all-trans band, Phoenix Rousiamanis contributes piano and strings, with Eden O'Brien on drums and Emily Abbott on bass. With Jasmine's voice and songwriting at the centre, the record incorporates a wider cast of voices. `Best Friend's House' features a chorus including her bandmates, Julien Baker, Phoebe Bridgers and Lucy Dacus ("the girls and the boys"), Saddest Factory Records label-mate Claud, Becca Mancari and E.R. Fightmaster. The song carries the communal spirit of the record's creation. On the closing track, `Woman', she is backed by the Trans Chorus of Los Angeles, a cross-generational group of trans singers who, like Jasmine, use their voice as a source of communal power. The song blossoms from solo performance to wider group catharsis. All the while, Jasmine sings unwaveringly about the power of knowing yourself at a core level: "I am, in my soul, a woman". The writing of You Are The Morning pulled from dark moments to tell its story. Surrounded by friends, the recording process was full of light. Through her performances, activism and artistry, jasmine.4.t is ushering in a new dawn.

Schlammpeiziger, who had previously only been known to us for his top hits and T-shirts, burst upon us like a wild boar in search of affection in the middle of the coronavirus lockdown. He nested in our fully vaccinated home, drank our Eversbusch, ate from our plates, slept in our bed (wait - wrong fairy tale) and repeatedly urged us to organise egg runs with his testicles (after some contortions, we gave up trying). Childish faecal humour, far-fetched obs(t)enities, juicing, a desire to dissolve, composting of thoughts. In excesses of lack of concentration, the chains of associations curled and meandered like Jo's famous curlicue drawings. Every evening, after we had forcibly levered him out of our flat, he would ‘walk’ home to put together very unique , dreamy pieces. In the blissful brainfog of those days, for example, ‘Handicapfalter’ was created, for which the congenial °Bär° made our flat into the corresponding video. Among other quirks of the little gut-breather, we were fascinated to observe his phobia of literature and books. Just hold a printed page in front of his face for a few seconds and he writhes on the floor crying. A level of phobia that only my own laughable disgust and fear of writing myself can compete with. Jo shudders at the thought of reading sentences that build on each other in a meaningful way, and I shudder at the thought of having to write them down because I have something ‘to say’. A certain affinity cannot be denied. We are much, much more pleased by snatched-up, misunderstood or misheard snippets, hollow but unforgettable phrases, the diamond stoner humour of our ancestors. ‘From one turn/ I stop/ to walk on/ in all directions’ (as it murmurs in “Selten Gesehenes”), describes the process quite nicely. After all, Jo is ahead of me in that he can simply break off every tedious sentence and let it fade into music. Back to the essentials. It's five to 12 for the Schlammpeitzger (scientifically Misgurnus). The shy goby is under threat from climate change, so perhaps this vinyl is the last expression of life of the specimen that we have been allowed to look after sporadically since the lockdown phase of the corona epidemic. And it's turned out pretty. Even the aesthetically gutted like me and my beloved husband can THINK about sex when they see these sublime, silvery fart bubbles! It's tender as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Do you have words. Do you have sounds. Impertinently harmless piano tinkling turns into tugging zounds of increasing severity. It is not dubbed (would be unethical) but dubbed. Sounds dubby, as you can imagine. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht: Possibly vaguely misogynistic. Could also be that there was simply no light in the hole. The sparse snippet of lyrics (‘du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht’) sounds like one of those stroppy Cologne replicas whose anti-charm is hard to resist. Buzzing and grooving.

Selten Gesehenes: Casual. Confident. Soft. Fragrant. Thoughtful but lively.

The Arabian Vietmanese (instrumental) is probably the food we trust in the case of the munchies we get when we watch other people smoking weed. Transcendental and psychedelic states casually permeate the humdrum of everyday life. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marches and floats at the same time. Klebt Runner: Soundtrack to the cult film of the same name. Tyrrell Corporation loosens up. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks somehow, because there is dangerous proximity to comprehensible and then also critical statements here. Instead, the sinister electronic cheapness of Carpenter soundtracks can be heard. Parzipan: Actually, the time of origin was not so roaringly funny and simple, but for Jo it was also a gruelling, slow letting go of his brother. Here he sends him off with a gentle nudge into the vastness of a hopefully happy beyond.

Clara Drechsler

Schlammpeiziger, der uns bislang nur durch seine Top-Hits und seine T-Shirts bekannt gewesen war, brach mitten im Corona-Lockdown über uns herein wie ein wilder Eber auf der Suche nach Zuwendung. Er nistete sich in unserem durchgeimpften Zuhause ein, trank unseren Eversbusch, aß von unseren Tellerchen, schlief in unserem Bettchen (Moment - falsches Märchen) drängte uns wiederholt dazu, mit seinen Hoden Eierlauf zu veranstalten (nach Verrenkungen gaben wir den Versuch auf). Kindischer Fäkalhumor, weit hergeholte Obs(t)zönitäten, Entsaftung, Auflösungswunsch, Gedankenkompostierung. In Exzessen der Konzentrationsschwäche ringelten, kringelten und schlängelten sich die Assoziationsketten wie bei Jos berühmten Kringel-Schlängel-Zeichnungen. Jeden Abend, nachdem wir ihn gewaltsam aus unserer Wohnung gehebelt hatten, „ging“ er dann heim, um dort sehr eigene, verträumte Stücke zusammenzubasteln. Im seligen Brainfog dieser Tage entstand z.B. „Handicapfalter“, für das der kongeniale °Bär° aus unserer Wohnung das entsprechende Video machte. Neben anderen Marotten des kleinen Darmatmers beobachteten wir fasziniert seine Literatur- bzw. Bücherphobie. Halt ihm nur sekundenlang eine bedruckte Seite vors Gesicht, und er windet sich weinend am Boden. Ein Grad an Phobizität, mit dem sich nur meine eigene lachhafte Abscheu und Angst vor dem Selberschreiben messen kann. Jo schaudert beim Gedanken, sinnvoll aufeinander aufbauende Sätze lesen, mir wiederum beim Gedanken, sie hinschreiben zu müssen, weil ich irgendetwas „zu sagen“ habe. Eine gewisse Verwandtschaft ist nicht zu leugnen. Viel, viel mehr freuen uns aufgeschnappte, falsch verstandene oder misshörte Fetzen, hohle, aber unvergessliche Phrasen, der diamantene Kifferhumor unserer Vorfahren. „Aus einer Drehung/bleibe ich stehen/ um in alle Richtungen/weiter zu gehen“ (wie es in „Selten Gesehenes“ raunt), beschreibt den Prozess schon ganz schön. Immerhin hat Jo mir voraus, dass er jeden leidigen Satz einfach abbrechen und in Musik ausplempern lassen darf. Zurück zum Wesentlichen. Es ist fünf vor 12 für den Schlammpeitziger (wissenschaftlich Misgurnus). Die scheue Grundel ist von Klimawandel bedroht, vielleicht haltet ihr mit diesem Vinyl also die letzte Lebensäußerung des Exemplars in Händen, das wir seit der Lockdownphase der Corona-Epidemie sporadisch betreuen durften. Und die ist hübsch geworden. Selbst aus ästhetischer Erwägungen Entdarmte wie ich und mein geliebter Mann, können bei diesen sublimen, silberhellen Pupsbläschen DENNOCH an Sex denken! It´s zart as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Hast du Worte. Hast du Töne. Impertinent harmloses Klavierplätschern geht über in ziepende Zounds von zunehmender Strenge. Es wird nicht domptiert (wäre unethisch) sondern dubtiert. Klingt dubtig, wie ihr euch vorstellen könnt. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht. Möglicherweise vage misogyn. Könnte auch sein, dass im Loch einfach kein Licht war. Das sparsame Textfetzchen („du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht“) klingt nach einer jener pampigen kölschen Repliken, deren Anticharme man sich schwer entziehen kann. Schwirrt und groovt.

Selten Gesehenes: Lässig. Souverän. Softig. Duftig. Nachdenklich aber beschwingt.

Beim Arabischen Vietmanesen (Instrumental) gibt es wahrscheinlich die Speise unseres Vertrauens im Falle der Munchies, die wir kriegen, wenn wir anderen Leuten beim Kiffen zusehen. Transzendentale und psychedelische Zustände durchziehen beiläufig den schnöden Alltag. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marschiert und schwebt zugleich.

Klebt Runner: Soundtrack zum gleichnamigen Kultfilm. Tyrrell Corporation macht sich locker. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks irgendwie, weil hier gefährliche Nähe zu nachvollziehbarer und dann auch noch kritischer Aussage gegeben ist. Dafür klingt die sinistre elektronische Billigkeit von Carpenter-Soundtracks an.

Parzipan: Eigentlich war die Entstehungszeit gar nicht so brüllend lustig und einfach, sondern für Jo auch ein zermürbendes, langsames Loslassen des Bruders. Hier schickt er ihn mit sanftem Schubs hinaus in die Weiten eines hoffentlich schönen Jenseits.

Clara Drechsler
Downloads

We’re teaming up with ELUCID and Fat Possum for a limited edition of 300 copies of a Rush Hour black ice coloured edition.

E L U C I D, one half of the illustrious duo Armand Hammer, is here with the full-length follow-up to 'I Told Bessie'. Further experiments in the sonic, expanding on the 'live' side of music paired with the embracing of chaos. Something you haven't heard, or not so for a very long time. E L U C I D is here to reveal the bleakness of reality.



---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

''There is never time in the future in which we will work out our salvation. The challenge is in the moment; the time is always now.''
James Baldwin

A raw, crackling urgency runs through rapper-producer ELUCID’s new album REVELATOR like an underground power line. There is no space here for sepia-toned reminiscences or indulgent self-mythologizing. Intellectual rabbit holes have been filled in with concrete and rebar ; there is nowhere to hide and no off ramp from the audio Autobahn that ELUCID has fashioned—a renegade Robert Moses with gold fronts, bulldozing the homes of the powerful and the complicit. REVELATOR brims with the energy of now, with a refusal to look away. Carpe diem in a murder one mask.

Born in Jamaica, Queens, ELUCID has been on the cutting edge of New York’s underground scene since the mid-2000s. From the beginning, he has defied both convention and expectation. He ran with Okayplayer darlings Tanya Morgan, but his own music eschewed their throwback charm for glitchy noise experiments and bass-swamped culture jamming. His 2016 debut studio project Save Yourself (re-released in a deluxe edition last year) announced him in earnest. But in recent years, his Armand Hammer releases with partner-in-crime billy woods have received significant attention and acclaim. Serving as a followup to his last solo album—2022’s comparatively balmy I Told Bessie—ELUCID hoped to “re-distinguish” himself with REVELATOR, setting himself apart amidst the increasing attention around the music he and his friends are making together.

For ELUCID, this meant setting bold new challenges for himself. One of these was diving further into live instrumentation than ever before—”getting my Quincy Jones on,” as he puts it. The testing ground for this approach was Armand Hammer’s most recent project, 2023’s We Buy Diabetic Test Strips’ Möbius strip soundscapes, warmed with instrumental flourishes and skin-shedding beat progressions. With REVELATOR, though, ELUCID strove to create an atmosphere of chaos, embracing experimental electronics and atonal sample bursts. He worked on much of the album with co-producer Jon Nellen, who comes from a background in avant-garde and Indian classical music. “I wanted to get as freaky as I could at this moment. I wanted people to hear things, maybe for the first time, or in a way they haven’t for a long while,” the rapper explains.

ELUCID arrived at the studio with a collection of noise sources: non-referential samples, glitches and noises. Together he, Nellen, and others created forms out of them and, as ELUCID recalls, “just started playing drums with it.” Their fried, distorted sound was directly inspired by Miles Davis at his most uncompromising—specifically, the tone-clustering funk track “Rated X” from his 1974 double LP Get Up With It. At times, the pairing of rap with avant-fusion sounds also brings Emergency! from The Tony Williams Lifetime to mind, perhaps in an alternate timeline where the late drummer was listening to Ice Cube’s AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted.

“The World is Dog,” REVELATOR’s lead single, functions as the album’s aesthetic thesis statement. Like the Davis track, the textures are punishing, the tonality is in free-fall, and the driving breakbeat of a groove cuts in and out unceremoniously. Avant-jazz bassist Luke Stewart, who appears throughout the record, holds the whole thing together just long enough for ELUCID to tightwalk over the beat. This tension is exactly where REVELATOR sets itself apart; in a time of drumless loops, and safe soul samples, this is a high-wire act with no safety net. Similarly, the song announces the themes of the album within just a few phrases, evoking the way societies accept and adjust to new levels of debasement and brutality while suffocating under the weight of history: “Can’t clock the kill, all a mystery/Forced past will eating everyone eventually/The world is dog.”

Many of the songs on REVELATOR grapple obliquely with dissolution and disenfranchisement in America and across the world—the grim realities of our domestic sociopolitical climate and our involvement in foreign conflicts. “Much of my artistic and political sensibility comes from the Black arts movement here in New York,” ELUCID explains. “Recognizing the interconnected global struggles against oppression, artists and thinkers created works and actions in solidarity with freedom movements in South Africa and Palestine.” ELUCID cites intellectuals like Amiri Baraka, Kwame Nkrumah, Audre Lorde, Sonia Sanchez, and Nikki Giovanni among his heroes. (One track on the album is specifically inspired by Lorde’s work, “SKP,” citing the scholar’s paper “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic As Power.”) Songs like REVELATOR’s insistent closer “ZIGZAGZIG,” find ELUCID applying up-to-the-minute messaging, making explicit reference to the conflict in Gaza: “Feed a war machine…from river to sea, in lieu of peace.”

Despite ELUCID’s preference for cacophonous system overload here, the rapper also provides moments of respite. Recorded at The Alchemist’s Los Angeles studio, the laid-back, wheezing “INSTANT TRANSFER” is a collaboration with billy woods, which crystallizes their shared sense of creative determination. “With much momentum behind us and even more on the horizon, I knew a purpose, and that every step was ordered to that purpose,” ELUCID said of the experience. Meanwhile, the jittery “HUSHPUPPIES” is a playful anomaly on the track list, providing a snapshot of ELUCID watching his grandparents in the kitchen while preparing for Friday night fish fry dinners.

“Love still rules over on this side,” ELUCID says. ”I’m raising a family. We are making meaning and finding joy in the midst of all the fucked up-ness of everything around us because the alternative is cowardice and slow death. We remain rooted. We celebrate our people and our wins. Struggle is necessary.”

“IKEBANA” is one of ELUCID’s strongest statements of purpose on the record, blending the record’s heaviest themes with its most hopeful sentiments. supported by a shoutalong refrain and an urgent prog-funk groove. Breaking away from images of dissolution and crumbling societal systems that populate REVELATOR, ELUCID notes that the only way to navigate life’s bleakest landscapes is to cling to love and believe in those around you—to look forward toward something better that may or may not be possible. For the rapper, one of the album’s most trenchant lines comes during a centerpiece of a beat drop: “Being alive/I must look up.”

“The lyric ‘being alive I must look up’ is important especially in the context of this album. Much of the album imagery is harsh and reflects the actual doom some of us experience. But still I/we exist,” ELUCID explains.

Every artist is, in one way or another, the product of their time, bound by life’s leaden gravity to operate within the space of that which is already known. But there are some who are able to shake free of these ties, to shape the culture as it unfolds, to make the present their own.
Revelation, as a concept, points to the scales falling from people’s eyes—something that has been hiding in plain sight becoming clear. “The revelator relates to things that have been talked about, things that have been forecasted,” ELUCID adds. “And now they’re really here, and everyone sees it. And there’s no escaping.” REVELATOR plays out with the unmitigated power of those storms, laying waste to any genre conventions in pursuit of a certain physicality. Here, ELUCID develops a wholly distinctive musical language to explore our fractured modernity.

REVELATOR's packaging was designed by longtime Armand Hammer / Backwoodz art director, Alexander Richter.

There is propably no single event that has as potent of an
effect on the german Techno- scene as the fall of the Berlin
Wall. A city divided suddenly, in one single night, became
uni¦ed, opening up both sides for the new experiences and
ways to view life the other might have. Berlin’s eastside with
it’s empty, unused warehouses proved to be a fertile breeding
ground for free spirits and those carrying a newfound ¦re in
their eyes. This was the zero hour. The Consolidation. And it
is this mindset, spirit and ¦re of Consolidation that Shaleen
conjures on her debut EP of the same name. The title track
opens up by sampling John F. Kennedy’s legendary “Berlin”
speech from 1964, before absolutely caving in the concrete
with a beyond-heavy kickdrum and a very stripped down but
effective 909-percussion section. Spursed in along the track’s
runtime are droning sirens and JFK continuing to beckon you
to lose yourself in the metropolitan bowels. This is the
anthem of a past revolution. On Deconstruction, Shaleen
goes down a slightly more basement oriented route. The
Percussion shares the title track’s stripped down
effectiveness, but the Groove is more rolling, the Vocal
samples are more distorted and there are sharp synths
cutting through the beats like shards of broken glass. Of
course, a revolution wouldn’t be complete without a mob so
both Cadency aka Hector Oaks and New Frames have put
their spin on the EP’s title track. Mr. Cadeny is up ¦rst and,
being no stranger to revolutionary anthems, has given
Consolidation an almost contemplative mood in his Remix,by adding a very subtle melody. This doesn’t mean it hits any
less hard, mind you, there is an incredibly strong drive to the
track, paired with an almost constantly looping vocal and the
sirens going into overdrive, this would be the track to drive
crowds into a frenzy. Meanwhile New Frames’ track is the
kind of thing you wouldn’t want to encounter alone in a dark
alleyway. The sub-basses are heavy enough to terraform
Mars, the Jungle-esque Synthlines roar and snarl at the
listener and every drop feels like a right hook to the chin. The
original’s vocal is cut in a way that it only adds to the
stomping rhythm, putting you in a mood to throw bricks. So
while this record showcases an aggressive sound and a
mood for revolution, it is important to remember it’s title.
Consolidation. It echoes a message of uni¦cation. Of
standing together. Because together we are, have been and
will always be stronger than by ourselves.

On his new album always centered at night, moby has once again conjured into reality a collection of heartachingly beautiful, tender-yet-defiant songs, made in collaboration with uniquely talented, soulfully aware, other-worldly vocalists. All the songs are love letters to the unrestricted and enchanting music scene of late ‘70s, early ‘80s New York that shaped Moby as a musician. The featured vocalists were given the same assignment: “Please don’t write anything commercial. Let it be weird. Let it be personal. It doesn’t have to make sense.”

“Because of that randomized freedom, I’ve been on the receiving end of so much genius work,” says moby. “And the result has been one of the most exciting, surprising things I’ve ever done as a musician, and it’s one of the most worthwhile things a human being can do: make tender, gentle, vulnerable music that’s a clarion call to act.”

Featured on this album are some of the most exciting vocalists of our time. Some are well-known - such as serpentwithfeet on the breathless daydream of a song ‘on air’, the jazzy soulstress Lady Blackbird on the haunting ‘dark days’, or the astounding poet and activist Benjamin Zephaniah on ‘where is your pride?’. Other contributors have been found in relative obscurity - such as friend and vocalist Brie O’Banion on the Cream cover ‘we’re going wrong’, or Sheffield poet laureate Danaé Wellington on the powerful ‘wild flame’.

“The goal for always centered at night is to do something uncompromising,” says Moby. “To make music that is emotional, atmospheric and potentially beautiful. And what better use of this weird privilege I have than trying to foster creative expression that has uncompromising integrity?”

When the first cargo ships from Western Europe docked in Klaipėda after the fall of the Iron Curtain, no one could have imagined that a completely new and unknown musical culture would arrive in Lithuania along with them. It was the first city in this country to get a taste of what was then called electronic rave music. This is why it is unsurprising that the most iconic Lithuanian electronic music band of the 1990s was born in Klaipėda, the port city of this country.

The first release from Lizdas Records is a nod to the past. Because if it weren’t for EXEM and their legendary tracks, which even made their way into the mainstream media in those days, today’s Lithuanian electronic music scene would be completely different.

The life of the solo electronic artist is equal parts privilege and loneliness. You hurtle across the sky to spend a few hours in a dark club, behind the decks or on stage at the microphone. A brief grasp at transcendence, then the lights are on. Afterwards, you chat with friends you made last month, last year, or an hour ago. Back on the train, the plane. A couple weeks of this, then home. Repeat. It was against this backdrop that Ana Roxanne and DJ Python (Brian Piñeyro) struck up a singular friendship and collaboration, culminating in the shared musical language of their new project, Natural Wonder Beauty Concept. Brian and Ana met in New York City in the winter of 2020. They’d respectively put out critically acclaimed albums but due to extenuating global circumstances, the real-world implications of those records were yet to be seen. Ana’s debut LP, Because of a Flower, released in fall 2020, trades in both ethereality and directness, stretching timeless pop and R&B forms into shimmering ambient magic. When the Bay Area-born, Mills-trained artist sings, on record or live, time slows down and we enter a languorous yet ecstatic present. The second album from Queens-based deep reggaeton innovator DJ Python, Mas Amable, also subverts easy temporality. Released in spring 2020, Mas Amable floats in liminal space—not quite a dance record, a downtempo record, nor an ambient record—unfurling at a wistful pace, naturally suited for a strange period when each day felt the same yet wildly different.