Cerca:the orb back to mine

Rhiza Semar presents its fourth chapter with Yildizlara, a four-track odyssey shaped from shadow, rhythm, and elemental texture. Crafted as both visceral tools and introspective journeys, the record navigates between ominous density and luminous release, guided by a deep awareness of space, myth, and matter. As an artist, Hitam paves the way for a new sound emerging from his burrows to build bridges between electronic subgenres while shaping a landscape unmistakably his own. Orb Weaver opens the cycle with jagged IDM rhythms that coil and release like threads of a web pulled taut. Originally composed for the graduation project of fashion designer Tim van der Plas, who's collection was inspired on climbing out of depression, its atmosphere is dark and ceremonial, with textures scraping against silence until catharsis emerges from the tension. A confrontation between inner turmoil and release. On Vanishing of the Anasazi, cavernous reverbs carry traces of lost structures, percussion echoing as if across ruins. A relentless drive holds the ghost of ritual processions, summoning a spectral energy that feels at once monumental and hollowed-out. The track suspends itself between presence and absence, architecture and collapse, leaving the listener in a space where echoes become the only surviving form of memory. Mesh Grip plunges downward into subterranean force. A thundering groove rumbles like minerals being unearthed, goblin-like figures at work in hidden shafts, chiseling away at stone in endless rhythm. From this pressure, a sudden swell of melancholy pads rises, reframing the heaviness with emotional resonance as if the whispers of angelic guardians seep into the caverns, transforming extraction into elegy. What begins as pure drive of endurance evolves into an introspective meditation. Closing the release, Yildizlara unfolds as an epic ascent. Layered rhythms rush forward with urgency, intricate yet propulsive, while chopped vocals bring back a sensual human element, scattering like signals across the night sky. Animalistic atmospheres dart through the mix as spectral cries and furtive movements, adding a primal dimension to the drive. What begins as erratic and untamed slowly converges into warmth and ultimate catharsis: a cosmic tale inscribed in sound, both intimate and monumental, familiar yet born of hidden memory. Yildizlara is both innovative and ancestral; a release where turbulence becomes ritual, and where rhythmic complexity unearths fragments of hidden memory. Beneath its dark and erratic surfaces lies a strange familiarity, like echoes of a primal past resurfacing through sound, reminding us of worlds once known but long concealed. Words by A. Veyra

There was nothing in contemporary music like Chris Isaak’s Heart Shaped World when it hit shelves in June 1989. More than three decades later, the singer-songwriter’s third album still sounds unique — and claims a backstory nearly as fascinating as the retro-leaning material and standout performances that propelled it to sales of more than 2.5 million copies. Home to the Top 10 smash “Wicked Game,” the set remains a masterful mood piece that invites you to pour a late-night drink, sit in a dimmed room, and relish Isaak’s elegant albeit raw ruminations on love, relationships, and questionable decisions.

Sourced from the original master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, and featuring the bonus track “Diddley Daddy,” Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP box set of Heart Shaped World unearths the staggering inner details, saturated tones, and brilliant atmospherics of the crisp production. It brings you up close and personal with Isaak’s spectacular singing — impeccably controlled, tense, brooding, steamy, smoldering, haunted — situated amidst stripped-down backdrops that allow every note to fully bloom and decay.

While Isaak’s ever-steady baritone remains the anchor, the contributions of his trusty backing band, the aptly named Silvertone, come across with just as much cool, command, and realism. The indispensable playing of guitarist James Calvin Wilsey particularly emerges with superb clarity and dimensionality. The character of his 1965 Fender Stratocaster, shivering twang of his spring-coiled fills, and his signature use of reverb, delay, and vibrato seamlessly match Isaak's patient deliveries and the band’s unhurried rhythms. Experienced on UD1S with ultra-black backgrounds and a nearly invisible noise floor, Heart Shaped World is in every regard a demonstration disc.

The premium packaging of this UD1S pressing befits its elevated status. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, it features foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics. Aurally and visually, this reissue is for discerning listeners who desire to immerse themselves in everything involved with the album, not the least of which is the cover art depicting a lost-in-thought Isaak staring ahead and sitting in what appears to be an efficiency apartment. The image epitomizes the record’s lonesome temperaments and pensive themes.

Of course, if not for director David Lynch hand-picking two cuts from Heart Shaped World for his 1990 film Wild at Heart, the record would’ve probably suffered the same fate as Isaak’s prior efforts and gone unnoticed by the mainstream. Despite receiving raves from outlets such as NME, Chicago Tribune, and Rolling Stone upon its original release, the album stalled in the lower quadrants of the Billboard charts and, after a few weeks, dropped off.

Cue the ear of Lee Chesnut. Then the music director for a large Atlanta radio station, Chesnut heard the instrumental version of “Wicked Game” on Lynch’s soundtrack and started airing the album rendition at all hours of the day. Aided by a sensual video featuring Isaak and supermodel Helena Christensen, the song found its way into the public consciousness by early ‘91 and helped make Isaak a most unlikely mainstream star in an era where his techniques had little to nothing in common with popular tastes.

Despite its vintage vibes and shared DNA with legends such as Roy Orbison, Chet Baker, and Glen Campbell, Heart Shaped World transcends nostalgia, rockabilly, and throwback tropes. For all the melodrama and sadness at hand, Isaak’s gorgeously transparent singing dives deep underneath emotional surfaces. He mines subtleties that indicate his feelings go beyond heartbreak and anguish, and occasionally suggest frustration, menace, and anger. You can hear it in his quivering falsetto, and the slow and methodical ways he allows delicate whispers to break into shadowy phrasing that crosses over to the darker sides of romance and desire.

That approach bolsters the title track, which suggests calm yet moves on ominous currents — its simmering pace and snare-drum snappiness foreshadowing Isaak raising the volume and urgency during the coda. The southwestern-tinged “Wrong to Love You” plays with similar concepts of hesitation, unease, and discord, Isaak careful never to fully erupt and give anything away. His poised deliveries offer a master class in the art of insinuation and hurt on “Nothing’s Changed,” sent up with a wordless backing chorus and crackling guitar lines straight out of a Memphis blues joint.

Heart Shaped World further boosts its merit via its abundant stylistic variations, from the upbeat country-and-western trot of “I’m Not Waiting” and Spanish acoustic shimmer of the jazz-based ballad “Blue Spanish Sky” to the swinging horn-accompanied grooves of “Don’t Make Me Love You” and desert smokiness of the understated “Kings of the Highway.” On the latter, Isaak comes across as resigned and absolute. His singing and pain worm their way into your soul, and echo akin to the way the music prepares to strike when you least expect.

“Trouble going 'round,” Isaak croons right as the album begins. “Trouble going down.” Damn straight.

Cloud Management return to Altin Village & Mine for a unique collaboration with New York writer and creative polymath Vivien Goldman.

A pairing spanning generations and geography, but with a musical overlap that is quite fitting in both process and result. Cloud Management’s jammy, improvisational approach to their dubby electronics blends well with Goldman’s idiosyncratic vocal style, which has its origins in the early days of post–punk and UK dub experimentalism. Cloud Management blend many historical aspects of German electronic music into something distinctly their own, while retaining a view well beyond those borders or any particular era. This approach fits well with Goldman’s deep multidisciplinary career, not easily defined because of its eclectic abundance across disciplines, yet always orbiting around music as its foundation.

When it comes down to it, these are great tracks created in the same way they sound: loose but refined, circling and turning inwards and outwards, back onto themselves. A dub of a dub of a dub, but never falling too far from the source — the minimalism necessary to deliver a direct, steady resolve and a gripping listen.

The B–Side of the record features three remixes by artists from across the globe, all with strong connections to the front line of dancehall, dub, and electronic music experimentalism. Longtime Equiknoxx member Time Cow from Kingston (Jamaica), delivers a version of »Quick Cover Up« that represents a major overhaul of the original. This remix strips away much of the looseness of the source material and leans into a lush yet slightly darker atmosphere, created by layered synths and a masterful use of underlying percussion and melodic stabs.

Up next are Twin Cities, Minnesota–based Feel Free Hi Fi, who take on »Judge Judge.« The duo tighten things up, overlaying weighty vintage string synths and digi–flute melodies. This version feels designed for smoky, late–night dub sound system sessions, harkening back to dub’s foundations.

Last but not least is London’s Pat Orburn. Stripped way down, the remix rides an interplay between alternating minimalism and a more lo-fi but lush exuberance, somewhat reminiscent of a bossa nova–esque minimal synth sound. This version’s lo–fi pop sensibility provides a fitting contrast and completes an eclectic yet copacetic trio of remixes for the record.

Over 19 tracks, Wayfaring Strangers: Cosmic American Music mines gold from dollar bin country-rock detritus to reconstruct events as seen from the genre's wild west - Americana's vast private press substructure. As progenitor and contemptuous poster boy for the music that came to be Cosmic American, Gram Parsons found himself mired in a recording career spent mostly in scouting the perimeters of chart success. "He hated country-rock," Parsons collaborator Emmylou Harris would later reflect. "He thought that bands like the Eagles were pretty much missing the point." Parsons had been orbiting the idea of Cosmic American Music for some time. In 1968 he'd parted ways with the Byrds and was looking to take air with a new project. "It's basically a Southern soul group playing country and gospel-oriented music with a steel guitar" he told Melody Maker, on the subject of The Flying Burrito Brothers. So it was that when A&M's Burrito Brothers debut The Gilded Palace of Sin made it to shelves in February of 1969, early adherents to the Cosmic American gospel were already echoing its message from areas flanking Gram Parsons' Southern California hills and canyons. There was F.J. McMahon in coastal Santa Barbara, Mistress Mary further inland in Hacienda Heights, and Plain Jane of Albuquerque, New Mexico, each responding by committing their own private readings to tape before day one of the 1970s. Parsons himself might've disdained them, had he even been aware of such minor ripples, shimmering at the edges of his desert oasis. But these were true believers all the same, given over fully to his roots music concept, each filling vinyl grooves with non-rock instrumentation like fiddle, banjo, and pedal steel guitar, the last undoubtedly Cosmic American Music's most distinguishing stringed signifier. Only too predictably, big labels did the grunt work of confining and defining the movement, as ABC, United Artists, RCA, and more played catch-up with Asylum's raptor rock juggernaut, via backwoods crossover also-rans with names like Gladstone, American Flyer, and Silverado. Twang reigned, the shitkickers kicked shit, and the vaguely western-sounding guitar records piled up. Country-rock became "the dominant American rock style of the 1970s," as Peter Doggett's comprehensive Are You Ready for the Country put it much later. Wayfaring Strangers: Cosmic American Music picks up and dusts off golden ingots from the dollar-bin detritus of that domination, to reconstruct events as seen from the genre's real Wild West-America's one-off private press label substructure.

A 2LP compilation featuring 42 of the world’s most supreme Northern Soul anthems.

An essential collection for any fan of great timeless music, this compilation celebrates the dance movement that emerged in Northern England and the Midlands in the early 1970s. Be transported back to the swinging sounds of Northern Soul, featuring the soulful classics from Gloria Jones, The Supremes, Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, Dusty Springfield and Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons.

A month after the release of his debut album as Tambores En Benirras, 2021’s fabulous Orbe Dotodo, Graham Newby’s life changed forever. After years living with a visual impairment, his sight had deteriorated so much that he was declared “registered blind”. For a man who had spent decades dividing his time between travelling, DJing, running clubs and lengthy sessions in his own studio, it was a genuinely life-changing moment.

It was against this backdrop, and the need to alter his working methods, that Ondas Horizontales, the second Tambores En Benirras album took shape. Inspired by a mixture of daydreaming, visualisation, immersion in other people’s music (escapism that provided mood enhancement, rather than a specific set of ideas) and long periods spent soaking up the sun in Ibiza, the album is the most vividly detailed, sonically colourful, and sun-soaked collection that Newby has released to date.

Newby’s declining sight forced him to stop spending long spells staring at a screen and undoubtedly slowed down the production process. Yet it also allowed him to reconnect with his emotions, appreciate the storytelling and mood-shifting potential of music, and mine mind’s eye memories of places and spaces that have meant much to him over the years.

The results are undeniably stunning. Designed with horizontal listening in mind, the set distils a range of musical and real-life inspirations –or, as he puts it, “ambient soundtracks, cosmic journeys, Balearic rhythms and poolside sessions” – into ten mesmerising and magical tracks; an undulating, slow-motion journey that’s as breath-taking as it is beguiling.

Newby sets the tone with ‘Mi Sueno Vibe En Reverb’, a swelling, slow-burn ambient masterpiece that tiptoes between hope and melancholia, before flitting between imaginary sunset soundtracks (‘Estrellas En Mastella’, where lilting pedal steel sounds, bubbling electronics and shuffling breakbeats catch the ear), kaleidoscopic sun-up beats (the gorgeous warmth of ‘Generadora De Reyos’), enveloping beatless soundscapes (‘Templos Del Sol’, a drowsy drift in becalmed waters under the heat of the mid-afternoon sun), and dubby, loved-up lusciousness (‘Mokono’).

As the album progresses, bobbing and weaving on an ocean of vibrant chords, pulsing melodies and heart-stopping melodies, there’s no sign of Newby’s inspiration waving. ‘Alma Hablando’ channels the spirit of mid-80s ‘worldbeat’ and douses it in layers of Balearic bliss, while ‘Extrensor Entragado’ recalls the head-nodding haziness of his best Gripper productions of old while combining them with the musical equivalent of a humid summer breeze. Then there’s the mood-enhancing joy of the album’s superb title track –a mission statement of sorts – and the life-affirming post trip-hop/Balearic fusion of ‘Un Placer Celestial (Reprise)’, where the influence of his old friend Aim is clearly evident.

A serious sonic step-up from its predecessor and a future Balearic classic in its’ own right, Ondas Horizontales marks the start of a new musical and personal journey for its creator. It is, in his words, not the end of an era, but the start of a new one.

Five years after "Mort d'un Pourri" (Death of a Corrupt Man) Philippe Sarde finds Alain Delon for this adaptation of a violent thriller by Jean-Patrick Manchette. If "Le Choc" (The Shock) offers a rather watered down vision of the original novel, the composer chooses to give a boost. Sarde explains : “My position was this : to inject singularity into this somewhat smooth story. I get some really good soloists together for an unconventional score balanced between rock, jazz fusion and romanticism. I wanted it to be energetic with a modern drive. To me, "Le Choc" is a direct extension of the great blends in "César et Rosalie" or "Coup de Torchon (Clean Slate)". A jazz-rock rhythm section, musicians from Weather Report with the London Symphony Orchestra, and the great Wayne Shorter. I

asked him if he could play his soprano with a timbre like a bombard, an unexpected transposing of a folk instrument onto a jazz horn..." To director Robin Davis, this magnificent score will be a real lifeline : "With his music, Philippe told a story alongside mine, he brought "Le Choc" back to what it might have and should have been. And I love the invisible link with Lautner. After Stan Getz and "Mort d'un Pourri", we’re still with Delon & Sarde but this time the saxophonist is a black American, Wayne Shorter."

Pressed for the first time from a high definition transfer of the recording tapes, this new album has been mastered without any compression, respecting all the dynamics of the recording produced at Abbey Road.

Soul icon Otis Redding made immeasurable contributions to the form. As a singer-

songwriter, producer, arranger and talent scout, Redding was responsible for some of the

music’s biggest and most lasting hits during the 1960s, though his death in an airplane crash

in 1967 brought his life and career to a tragically premature end. He was born Otis Redding

Junior in 1941 in the small town of Dawson, Georgia, the son of a sharecropper and preacher,

and moved to the city of Macon at the age of two, where he learned to sing at the Vineville

Baptist Church. After singing in the high school band, he performed weekly gospel songs on

radio station WIBB, winning local talent contests after being inspired by Little Richard and

Sam Cooke. Since his father became ill with tuberculosis, Redding began supporting the

family at the age of 15, working as a gas station attendant, a digger of water wells, and

occasionally by playing piano with pianist Gladys Williams at the Hillview Springs Social

Club. Then, in 1958, Redding had a repeat prize run at a talent contest held by broadcaster

Hamp Swain, bringing him first into a group called Pat T Cake and the Mighty Panthers, and

later into Little Richard’s band (during a time when Richard switched rock and roll for

gospel). Moving to Los Angeles in late 1960, debut single “She’s All Right” was issued on

the Trans World label (a subsidiary of Al Kavelin’s Lute Records), credited to The Shooters

featuring Otis; following the birth of their first child and his subsequent marriage to Zelma

Atwood, Redding recorded the popular “Shout Bamalam” for Macon’s Confederate Records

(who swiftly reissued it on the Orbit label since some radio stations objected to the original

label’s confederate flag logo, during a time of terrible racial segregation in the South).

Redding cut the movingly emotive “These Arms Of Mine” at Stax studios in Memphis in

1962, backed by Booker T and the MGs, which surfaced on the subsidiary Volt label in

October, reaching the charts some six months later (and eventually selling a reported 800,000

copies). Subsequent singles “What My Heart Needs” and “Pain In My Heart”/“Something Is

Worrying Me,” recorded in September 1963, formed the bulk of debut album, Pain In My

Heart, which was padded out by standard cover tunes of songs such as “I Need Your Lovin’,”

Ben E King’s “Stand By Me” and Little Richard’s “Lucille.” The album, which surfaced at

the start of 1964, reached the top 20 of the US R&B chart and also hit the Billboard Hot 100;

this edition has an alternate track listing that includes the Trans World debut single tracks

“She’s All Right” and “Getting’ Hip,” as well as “Mary Had A Little Lamb,” the B-side to

“That’s What My Heart Needs.” Carefully remastered, spinning at 45 rpm for enhanced qudio quality.

The three players in Chicago’s Moontype orbited each other for years before they came in phase. Bodies of Water, their debut album for local label Born Yesterday, documents travel, insecurity, friendship, and the titular element—all of which are representative of the band members’ strong connection to place and to one another. “Being rooted in the landscape became important to me while studying geology, which completely changed how I think about the world,” offers songwriter, vocalist and bassist Margaret McCarthy of the album’s central themes. The arrangements themselves feel like open-hearted negotiations; sparse fingerpicking gives way to saturated tube-screaming as naturally as the changing of tides. Over twelve tracks, Moontype revels in the woozy concoction of its many influences, but always lands on punchy hooks, shifting between arrangements both spacious and mystifying without abandoning their conversational warmth.

Conservatory students at Oberlin College’s prestigious music program, each member focused on exploring different sounds. Guitarist Ben Cruz, who came up on classic rock shredding and migrated into jazz performance, admired the indie pop of Fountains of Wayne, the groundbreaking composition work of pianist Vijay Iyer, and the genre-morphing folk of heavy hitters like Neil Young and Joni Mitchell. He played in several projects alongside Emerson Hunton, who’d drummed from age six and entrenched himself in the Twin Cities improvised music scene before even heading to college. Margaret—who grew up outside of Boston playing piano, singing in choirs and writing on guitar—spent her time creating knotty, riot grrrl-and-hyperpop inspired songs for bass and voice, as well as noise soundtracks for art installations. Inspired by artists like Adrianne Lenker and Gillian Welch, she recorded the EP bass tunes at home in an apartment over the town’s optician, releasing it upon graduation. A week later she migrated even farther west to Chicago, where Ben and Emerson had already enmeshed themselves in several projects, from avant garde ensembles to a country group.

Ben was instantly impressed by Margaret’s songs, at once “challenging and unlike anything I had played before.” The duo decided to try performing together, but knew this special music would be even better fortified with drums. Emerson was the obvious choice—as Ben puts it, “He’s our great friend and also the best drummer we know. Who else do you call?” Moontype-as-trio gigged around town, eventually embarking on a first fall tour in Emerson’s Prius. On that trip, they felt the music morph into something living, and the care and trust between them intensified. They decided to put together songs for a record, recorded at the end of 2019 with Jamdek Recording Studio’s Doug Malone, a dependable collaborator whose patient process perfectly captured the magic of their newfound familiarity. While Margaret’s skeletal demos still informed the bulk of Moontype’s full-band debut (some of which are re-recordings of bass tunes cuts), the resulting arrangements are songs reborn and strengthened by the three musicians’ absorption of one another’s ideas.

On Bodies of Water, Margaret’s soothing, unadorned alto is often peppered by the gliding, eerie harmonies of her bandmates. “We love the act of singing together,” explains Ben, who describes it as “connecting and grounding and wholesome.” The push-pull search for common ground characterizes the instrumentals as well. Round basslines occupy higher octaves, trading space with guitars chugging in lower registers, and all the while drums break apart and glue back together in idiosyncratic grooves that never lose the pocket. Of the complicated rhythms that sometimes result: “Any mathy moments are based on how the lyrics fall naturally, which feels like it frees us up from having to stay in one time signature,” says Emerson. “Rhythmic elements never feel like they’re being added in, more like they’re already there and we just float on through.”

Touring’s restlessness informed these songs, but so did the DIY scene that welcomed Moontype to Chicago—including, according to Margaret, the “wild harmonies” of Ohmme, the “deadpan explanatory rock” of Ratboys, and the “luxe math rock pattern music” of The Knees. Working at beloved venue Sleeping Village inspired Margaret’s observational vignettes; “We are sitting at the desk and you are mixing all the bands,” she reports in the middle of the dextrous folk hammer-ons of “3 Weeks,” gently admitting, “I am trying to have fun and I am trying to get paid” in a world of bikes, trucks, and velvet. “About You,” a robust power-popper written about a post-gig romp around Richmond with artist Bebé Machete, opens with a Phair-ian quip: “Looking at you with my fuck me eyes / Do you wanna get inside of mine?” Meanwhile, the spectre of lost camaraderie looms over “Ferry,” an atmospheric and anthemic standout that questions, “If I’m not your best friend / then who am I to anyone?” Alongside water, this preoccupation with friendship is a focal concern lyrically, but the palpable love between Moontype’s players is essential in communicating that desire for connection, and all three members are dedicated to exploring sound and meaning organically and together. Care and generosity are at the core of Moontype, and Bodies of Water is a clever album full of insightful music, as cosily enveloping as it is incisively honest.