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'Balconies' is an urgent, physical record shaped by momentum and heat. The album takes its title from a recurring metaphor: a balcony as a place of exposure and distance. Elevated, visible, yet removed from the action below. Throughout the record, Tin Fingers explore feelings of observation, displacement and restlessness, moving through places without fully belonging.

Musically, 'Balconies' marks a clear shift for the Antwerp band. Where earlier releases leaned into intimacy and melancholy, this album is louder, more direct and built for movement. Sharp, energetic songs are balanced by the band's continued attention to atmosphere and imagery.

The album was written instinctively over three months by frontman Felix Machtelinckx before being brought to the band, with arrangements coming together quickly thanks to years of shared experience. Recording took place over four hot summer days at The Old Carpet Factory on Hydra, Greece. The warmth, the sea and the island's isolation shaped both sound and mood, while limited time encouraged live recordings that capture the album's raw energy and immediacy. 'Balconies' was mixed by D. James Goodwin (The National, Kevin Morby, Whitney).

Following the release, Tin Fingers will present 'Balconies' live, with shows at De Roma (Antwerp), Mezz (Breda) and Supersonic (Paris).

Tin Fingers takes on a darker, melancholic direction on their second full album. Felix Machtelinckx' weeping vocals, preaching, searching, and trying to understand God, form the leitmotif. With rich melodies, haunting piano sounds, improvisations, first takes and no overdubs, Tin Fingers is searching for pureness and keeping things human and simple. The band is playing together intuitively, without a computer, without ego, just for the sake of music

The creation of the album was very fluent and spontaneous. Singer Felix wrote the backbones of the songs and the lyrics on acoustic guitar and piano. He wanted to have songs ready in order to be able to record and write arrangements fast. With an eye for details but without overthinking, keeping the ideas fresh. 'I wanted to stay in love with the music.' he explains. 'It needed to go fast, very fast, in just two weeks the entire album was recorded and ready to be mixed.'

In the studio, the band especially focused on picking the right mood rather than playing the right notes.

They were fed up with working on a computer for many hours, overthinking production choices, and adding instruments on top of each other as if they were Lego blocks. This time they decided to work in a more traditional way, going for first takes, jams, and essentially working with analog gear. No computers, no screens, no distractions. Only four humans in a studio trying to make a sound together by keeping things spontaneous and raw. They said goodbye to perfection and worked towards an unfinished product, a snapshot.

Tin Fingers also didn't want to sound like any other artist on this record. They decided not to listen to music during the sessions, and to never express ideas by referencing other bands. Just before the studio session, however, bass player Simen Wouters broke the rules and shared Bonnie 'Prince' Billy's, I See Darkness. Its dark and searching sound ended up inspiring the band unmistakably.

Once the recording was finished, the band decided to keep the volatile rhythm going and asked reputable NYC-based mixer and producer D. James Goodwin to finish the job. Goodwin, known for his analog folk productions with a real American punchy sound but a tender touch, proved the right man for the job. He opened up the songs and kept things poetic, minimal but impressive.

Tin Fingers takes on a darker, melancholic direction on their second full album. Felix Machtelinckx' weeping vocals, preaching, searching, and trying to understand God, form the leitmotif. With rich melodies, haunting piano sounds, improvisations, first takes and no overdubs, Tin Fingers is searching for pureness and keeping things human and simple. The band is playing together intuitively, without a computer, without ego, just for the sake of music

The creation of the album was very fluent and spontaneous. Singer Felix wrote the backbones of the songs and the lyrics on acoustic guitar and piano. He wanted to have songs ready in order to be able to record and write arrangements fast. With an eye for details but without overthinking, keeping the ideas fresh. 'I wanted to stay in love with the music.' he explains. 'It needed to go fast, very fast, in just two weeks the entire album was recorded and ready to be mixed.'

In the studio, the band especially focused on picking the right mood rather than playing the right notes.

They were fed up with working on a computer for many hours, overthinking production choices, and adding instruments on top of each other as if they were Lego blocks. This time they decided to work in a more traditional way, going for first takes, jams, and essentially working with analog gear. No computers, no screens, no distractions. Only four humans in a studio trying to make a sound together by keeping things spontaneous and raw. They said goodbye to perfection and worked towards an unfinished product, a snapshot.

Tin Fingers also didn't want to sound like any other artist on this record. They decided not to listen to music during the sessions, and to never express ideas by referencing other bands. Just before the studio session, however, bass player Simen Wouters broke the rules and shared Bonnie 'Prince' Billy's, I See Darkness. Its dark and searching sound ended up inspiring the band unmistakably.

Once the recording was finished, the band decided to keep the volatile rhythm going and asked reputable NYC-based mixer and producer D. James Goodwin to finish the job. Goodwin, known for his analog folk productions with a real American punchy sound but a tender touch, proved the right man for the job. He opened up the songs and kept things poetic, minimal but impressive.

Repress!

One of the gems on the smash hit album 'Soulmatic', Purple Disco Machine & Boris D'Lugosch's, 'Love For Days' gets the remix treatment three ways.

First up the master Kenny Dope - crisping up that shuffling rhythm with some added percussion and synthesiser arps to turn what was already a peak time soulful anthem, into a close to 8 minute extended journey drawing you in more and more with each build up and breakdown. Next up the PDM offers up an extended mix of the original, a welcome sight for those DJs on the club scene who have been rinsing this since the album dropped last year.

Finally, Motez takes you into raunchy, r&b tinged, garage territory, really honing in on Karen Harding's incredible vocals whilst incorporating brooding pads and sweeping fx's to create a special twist on the original.


DJ Support:

Aeroplane (Aeropop / Eskimo Recordings), Klingande / Kungs / Michael Calfan c/o (Unity Group Promo Sorter), Autograf (Counter Records), Treasure Fingers (Psycho Disco! / Fool's Gold), Malente (Southern Fried Records), Satin Jackets c/o (Eskimo Recordings / N.E.W.S.), Eric Sharp (9G Records), Gregor Salto c/o (Spinnin' Records), DJ Blake Jarrell (Armada Music), Jerome Price (Throne Room Records), DJ Licious (Spinnin' Records), Travis Emmons (Weapons Music), Electronic Youth (KMS), Solidisco (Fool's Gold / Ultra) :: Mark Knight c/o (Toolroom Knights), Mike Mago (Boemklatsch), Muzzaik (Spinnin' / Toolroom), The Disco Boys (We Play Music), Trevor Mac (Jalapeno Sound System), Ferdinand Weber (Spinnin' Deep), LCAW (Ultra), Plastic Plates (Sweat it Out), Mark Lower (Nurvous), Don Diablo c/o (Axtone / Spinnin' Records), Eton Messy, Après (Love & Other Records), Spada (Ego Music / Hysterical), Eelke Kleijn (Spinnin' / Suara), Horsemeat Disco (Strut Records / K7! Records), Horsemeat Disco (Strut Records / K7! Records), Adriana Lucia (Get Physical), Broc Roc (Dj B-Roc of The Knocks), Chordashian (Mullet Records), Hector Romero (Saw Recordings), Just Kiddin (Nervous Records)

Idris Elba c/o (Connaisseur Records / 7Wallace), Klingande / Kungs / Michael Calfan c/o (Unity Group Promo Sorter), Shiba San c/o (Suara / CUFF), Malente (Southern Fried Records), Rudimental (Asylum / Big Beat), Sirus Hood (Under No Illusion / Dirtybird), Marc Spence (This Ain't Bristol / Skint), Martin Solveig c/o (Spinnin' Records), Horsemeat Disco (Strut Records / K7! Records), Riva Starr c/o (Hot Creations), Mike Mago (Boemklatsch), Kokiri (Love & Other), Fred Falke (Work It Baby Records), Claptone c/o (Exploited), Roger Sanchez (Stealth Records / Astrx), Don Diablo c/o (Axtone / Spinnin' Records), Icarus (FFRR / SubSoul), Pezzner (Dirtybird), Jourdan Bordes (Phonetic Recordings), Mahalo (Toolroom / Bunny Tiger), AC Slater (Night Bass), Chordashian / Felix Feygin (Mullet Records), Fei-Fei Wang, Kristina Sky (Ultra / Armada), Thee Cool Cats (Toolroom / Bunny Tiger), Solidisco (Fool's Gold / Ultra), Infected Mushroom c/o (HOMmega Productions), DJ Blake Jarrell (Armada Music),Travis Emmons (Weapons Music), Human Life (LIFEX / Exploited), Treasure Fingers (Psycho Disco! / Fool's Gold), Hector Romero (Saw Recordings), and Danny Howard (BBC Radio 1 / Nothing Else Matters)

Caution alert! On the volume 3 of the Resurrection series, Simoncino teams up with one the greatest & biggest voice in House Music: the great Robert Owens. The voice behind Mr Fingers and so many other timeless titles. He alone sums up our history, all the greatest tracks that paved the way for our sound & community (yes still though instagram & the self worships) since 40 years. The master sang for Larry Heard but also Frankie Knuckles, Satoshi Tomiie, Photek, Layo & Bushwacka!, Mr. C, Quentin Harris, Marshall Jefferson, Michael Watford, DJ Spen, Gene Hunt, Soul Clap, K' Alexi Shelby, Sandy Riviera and so many others! He is simply the greatest soulful underground vocalist for a generation of househeads. The Italian prodigy simoncino gives us a daunting ep of 6 tracks (!) which navigate between deep techno (that could be a easily played in Berghain) and the purest original house where he excels. Its inimitable style is a clever mix of chicago house tinged with the most classy techno touches. The A side composed of Riccione Part I, Riccione Part II & Masonry is completely dedicated to this kind of techno sound, very pure, very mental and at the same time incredibly funky. It's a total trip. The B side explores the more house influences of the genius of peruggia, notably on All my soul & All My Soul (Riviera Ambient Mix) in direct homage to the italo dream house sound. Pure gold. An absolute marvel. I'll Be Your Friend 4 Ever, Skylax 4 Ever ! Note that on the label's bandcamp, with the purchase of the vinyl, you can get 1 exclusive bonus track : Simoncino "Love Me Forever Or Love Me Not"

Debut solo album from guitar player of Calicos. The result is a record that balances melancholy and raw intensity, where vulnerability is never far from power.Aäron Koch's voice cuts straight through, while the band builds a sound that feels both timeless and urgent, echoing The Veils, My Morning Jacket and Strand of Oaks.



For years, Aäron Koch was the guitarist in other people's bands. Writing intricate riffs and odd time signatures came naturally, but the thought of writing a simple song, a verse, a chorus, a melody that could stand on its own, felt out of reach. He tried and failed, discarded demos, and pushed himself through the humbling exercise of writing "bad songs" just to learn the craft.

'For Once', his debut album (out via Unday Records), is the unexpected outcome of that long struggle. What began as an exercise became a set of songs that refused to stay in the drawer. Months after recording rough sketches, Koch listened back and realized they weren't throwaways after all. With a small heart, he shared them with friends, musicians from bands like Calicos, Uma Chine and Tin Fingers, who immediately heard their potential and joined the project.



The result is a record that balances melancholy and raw intensity, where vulnerability is never far from power. Koch's voice cuts straight through, while the band builds a sound that feels both timeless and urgent, echoing The Veils, My Morning Jacket and Strand of Oaks.

"This music is about weaknesses and vulnerability," Koch says. "Autobiographical really, something I only realized once the album took shape."



That honesty struck a chord. In 2024, after only a handful of shows, Aäron Koch reached the finals of Humo's Rock Rally and was invited to open for Belle & Sebastian at a sold-out Ancienne Belgique. Now 'For Once' shows why: it's the sound of someone learning to write songs the hard way, and discovering in the process that he has something entirely his own to say.

NYOS are a Finland-based instrumental band comprised of guitarist Tom Brooke and drummer Tuomas Kainulainen. Known for their immersive and often physically demanding live shows, NYOS create massive sonic worlds using Brooke's labyrinthine loops and atmospheric layering alongside Kainulainen's kinetic drumming, in music that is rhythmic, raw, and eclectic. Since their formation in 2014, NYOS have carved out a distinctive place within Europe's experimental and post-rock scenes, characterized by their relentless energy, polyrhythmic complexity, and hypnotic layering. While still rooted in their signature loop-based approach, new album `Growl' is "more ambitious with song soundscapes and compositions", says guitarist Tom Brooke, naturally embracing a denser, more textured sound with greater attention to atmosphere and tension. "`Growl' feels like the best we've managed to harness the dynamics, and maybe the one thing we did focus a bit on is finding new ways to create those dynamics and making sure they aren't too predictable - it's our longest record to date, and when producing it, we were very conscious to make sure it is an album that holds the listener" (Brooke) As eclectic and exciting as ever, NYOS are a band in continuous motion, unafraid to challenge themselves and their listeners with ever-expanding sonic vocabularies. `Growl' is an album that is both coherent and seamless in its movement, walking a tightrope between meticulous structure and explosive energy. FOR FANS OF Battles, And So I Watch You From Afar, Don Caballero, The Mars Volta, Lightning Bolt, Tortoise, Hella, Tiny Fingers, Death Grips, Zach Hill, Russian Circles, Explosions in the Sky, Tera Melos

NYOS are a Finland-based instrumental band comprised of guitarist Tom Brooke and drummer Tuomas Kainulainen. Known for their immersive and often physically demanding live shows, NYOS create massive sonic worlds using Brooke's labyrinthine loops and atmospheric layering alongside Kainulainen's kinetic drumming, in music that is rhythmic, raw, and eclectic. Since their formation in 2014, NYOS have carved out a distinctive place within Europe's experimental and post-rock scenes, characterized by their relentless energy, polyrhythmic complexity, and hypnotic layering. While still rooted in their signature loop-based approach, new album `Growl' is "more ambitious with song soundscapes and compositions", says guitarist Tom Brooke, naturally embracing a denser, more textured sound with greater attention to atmosphere and tension. "`Growl' feels like the best we've managed to harness the dynamics, and maybe the one thing we did focus a bit on is finding new ways to create those dynamics and making sure they aren't too predictable - it's our longest record to date, and when producing it, we were very conscious to make sure it is an album that holds the listener" (Brooke) As eclectic and exciting as ever, NYOS are a band in continuous motion, unafraid to challenge themselves and their listeners with ever-expanding sonic vocabularies. `Growl' is an album that is both coherent and seamless in its movement, walking a tightrope between meticulous structure and explosive energy. FOR FANS OF Battles, And So I Watch You From Afar, Don Caballero, The Mars Volta, Lightning Bolt, Tortoise, Hella, Tiny Fingers, Death Grips, Zach Hill, Russian Circles, Explosions in the Sky, Tera Melos

Though Toronto rockers Hot Garbage’s signature tinge of moody, heavy psychedelia remains present on Precious Dream, their forthcoming sophomore album careens at high speeds into a darker world of searing post-punk riffs, grappling with themes of dread, loss, the resilience of the human spirit and the highs and lows of solitude. From the onset, elegant yet brutalist sonic architectures provide the scenery for an escape route, while cryptic poetic spurts act as surreal signage. By the end of the journey, we are left with a strangely pleasant void, but also with an uncontrollable urge to backtrack into the outfit’s beautiful 36-minute musical trap. True to form, prolific producer Graham Walsh (Holy Fuck, No Joy, !!!, etc.) – with whom, Hot Garbage recorded their critically-acclaimed debut full-length, RIDE – does right by the band, masterfully harnessing the four-piece’s unique brand of rock & roll, setting in motion a parallel universe where phones are not what they seem, lobotomy has its merits, lower is actually better, and tunnels stretch the very fabric of spacetime. Fans of Sonic Youth, Frankie and the Witch Fingers or Joy Division should welcome a confused stroll down this romantic if dystopian opus, for a cathartic and tender sense of resolution awaits.

Black Vinyl LP. The world has changed, we shouldn't try and pretend otherwise. While we were shut away in isolation our routines shifted, social patterns evolved, and our hopes and dreams were twisted into cobwebs we're still trying to wipe from our fingers. Ziúr tentatively approached this on her last album Antifate, an ambitious and complex hybrid pop fever dream that looked back to a Medieval escapist fantasy as the scent of revolution seemed to hum in the air. But when restrictions were eased, she found herself staring down a discombobulated society that had trapped itself in a spiral of microwaved nostalgia and detached, narcotic repetition. Eyeroll then is Ziúr's musical panacea, a tincture to wake us from our creative slumber and prompt external connection and reflection. It's a polyphonous hex that demands human interaction, and Ziúr's hand-picked alliance of collaborators - Elvin Brandhi, Abdullah Miniawy, Iceboy Violet, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef, and James Ginzburg - each provide distinct voices that together herald a bewildering sonic epoch. Ziúr's palette had to evolve to match the scope of the project, but it was pure necessity that informed the album's defining tone. Recording mostly at night, Ziúr was conscious of the noise she was making so developed a unique way to record organic percussion. Using a set of rototoms - low profile tunable drums - she scratched, scraped and gently tapped the skins to build up the undulating and unstable rhythmic backdrop for each track. It's the first sound we hear on the opener 'Eyeroll', rattling like lost marbles against Elvin Brandhi's primal croaks and screams. And when Brandhi's twisted articulations form words, Ziúr matches the energy with chaotic thuds and serrated blasts of saturated electronics. "I roll the shittiest cigarette," she squeals like she's about to start a mosh pit at Paris's GRM Studios. Without pause, Abdullah Miniawy takes over on 'Malikan', building on the promise of material with Simo Cell, Carl Gari and HVAD with corrosive trumpet blasts and charged, politically incendiary Arabic vocals. Inspired by pre-Islamic poetry and the Qu'ranic chanters he heard growing up in Saudi Arabia and Egypt, he spins labyrinthine stories that cross between the worlds, breaking down physical and spiritual borders simultaneously. Miniawy's scope is expanded even further on his second collaboration, 'If The City Burns I Will Not Run'. "If it rains and the city drowns," he utters over gaseous electronics, "I will not run away, but I will be anxious for the heart of one close to me." After a supple vocal turn from Manchester's Iceboy Violet on 'Move On' and a surreal interlude from poet- DJ-artist-theorist Juliana Huxtable on '99 Favor Taste', Brandhi returns with two more hyperactive collaborations: ,'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote'. On the former she slices into Ziúr's skeletal jazz eruptions, screaming and crooning interchangeably, fluxing between the rap battle and the cabaret. The latter is completely different meanwhile, with Brandhi settling into her role as front-woman and groaning dizzying improvised passages that sound like grunge crossed with psychedelic no-wave. Brandhi's spiky musical history has prepared her well for this collaboration; she's a prolific producer and has been using her voice spontaneously since debuting with father-daughter improv duo Yeah You in the mid 2020s. She's found an ideal foil in Ziúr, a producer who matches her restless energy and willingness to bend formality, and leaves an indelible mark on Eyeroll. But the album's most tender moments are from Ziúr herself, who winds the album down on 'Hasty Revisionism', growling over collapsible beats and cascading strings, and comes to an unexpected conclusion with country coda 'Lacrymaturity'. Its feverish amalgamation of country music and euphoric, experimental electronics might seem incongruous at first, but in context with the rest of the album is the only possible conclusion. With Eyeroll Ziúr is making a firm statement about togetherness, humanity, and the renewal of hope when all seems lost. By bringing together such a wide but philosophically harmonic team of collaborators, she's conducted a body of work that speaks to the creative fringe in no uncertain terms. Now's the time to throw away what you think you know, and build bridges you didn't think you need. Now's the time for action. She may have spent her entire career avoiding the solipsistic trappings of "queer art", but by assembling a communal statement that questions so many normative assumptions about music, politics, and beyond, Ziúr has chanced upon her queerest album yet. Cringe? Eyeroll.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

The original Sunshine Band returns: Biesmans & Albert are ready for their yearly duo appearance. Their latest track Give Me Luv features none other than Chicago House legend Robert Owens on vocals (Ill be your friend, Tears & Fingers Inc). Two mixes make it a thrilling affair. The original grants powerful rhythm work, punchy basslines and razor chords. Comes in hot! The Detroit Mix does exactly what it says on the tin. It adds a touch of darkness, a hypnotic arp and showcases Roberts iconic voice all over the place. This platter comes in red vinyl and is limited to 100 copies.

Well-versed in vintage vernaculars, Oakland-based producer/musician Mike Walti is about to return with his sophomore offering under the Organi moniker – as new album “Babylonia” follows 2020’s “Parlez-vous Français?,” a landmark in vibe acquisition ever since.

Wyldwood Studios is a portal. It’s a secret gateway to analog spheres. Cross the threshold and you’ll feel the difference: you can pick any ol’ time, any place, any tongue or vibe, in fact. Hit the dancefloor in 1967, feel that plushy loveseat in the early 70s. It’s a welcoming place where better, saner vibes are still within reach. Fueled, at least in part, by those long-classic 12”s on the walls – just imagine the sepia-tinted countenance of Melody Nelson alongside actual Birkin sans wig, right next to Shadow’s immortal crate diggers, forever blurred –, and channeled through ancient time travel devices such as the MCI 416B only to arrive on classic 2-inch tape (MM1000 aka Ol’ Bessy), it’s a haven for all things organic, for all things imbued with that warm élan. Built and run by Oakland’s own Mike Walti, countless artists from many different genres have felt that flair, creating sonic spheres and moving back and forth along the malleable axis that is space-time. Capturing magic.

Emerging from this unique portal back in 2020, Walti’s aka Organi’s first studio album was a stunning answer to its titular question – “Parlez-vous Français?” It was a soothing, somewhat psychedelic trip so magnétique and alluring that it immediately brought back those bits of Franglais you never knew you remembered. Whereas the debut LP indeed felt like a spontané voyage to the French Riviera ca. 1968, its follow-up “Babylonia” is so much more than linguistic confusion and ancient Akkadian Rhythms. Using that hidden portal near Alameda’s finest port to access all kinds of remote regions and sonic spheres, it’s super tight and feels, well, decent, even though, just like the ol’ Babylon, it’s full of surprising tongues and dreams, schemes and melodies.

“Where do we go from here?,” someone asks in opening “Organii-“ – all majestically cinematic boom bap, buoyant bass, sick strings. A fittingly massive opener that feels like cracking open a cold one after long weeks at work (that ecstatic “ahhhh”), it perfectly sets the tone for another half hour of pure time traveling, globe-spanning bliss. Whereas that certain prédilection pour all things French makes “La Rockette” so tempting and tantalizing (think MalMalNonBien), the sophomore album’s Berlin-based guest singer Nana Lacrima soon takes us elsewhere: title track “Babylonia” spins ever so softly, like a magic lantern, with images of dreamier Stones Throw funksters or Savath y Savalas looming over the steady flow of an arrangement that washes you clean like an ancient, unpolluted River Euphrates or Brazil’s actual Amazon. A sexy Portuguese-flavored anthem, occasional guest singer Alix Koliha also enters the scene to add yet another layer of French chic to this Brazilian landscape. Next, we’re back at the Riviera, but the “Italiano” version of it, splendido sunsets and bell towers in the distance, the ragazze laughing and shaking it up, perhaps even some Portofino Gin so you can really feel that “me ne batto il belin,” as your fingers align form some half-serious “ma che vuoi?”

Tim Maia-penned “Padre Cicero” (1970) deals with the stunning transformation of the titular hero – “De reverendo a lutador,” and what a soaring, sensual hook –, and Organi’s take on Elephant Memory’s “Old Man Willow” (now an “Old Man Waltz”) perfectly underlines what Walti’s Wyldwood endeavor is all about: Easy-Going Experimental Dream Pop, fueled by Gainsbourg, Broadcast, Stereolab, etc.

Later on, even though something seems to be tres complique in “Remembering Anna,” it all sounds carefree like a spontaneous Friday afternoon with a bottle of fine wine. Right before the outro, key album guest Yea-Ming Chen (of Yea-Ming & The Rumors) returns to the mic, adding her dark and dusky trademark timbre to melancholy anthem “Pictures Of Your Face”. Reminiscent of Nico and Trish (rip & rip), it’s a track that’s both dark and strangely propelling, hypnotic and hip-shaking.

A third generation Bay Area native, Mike Walti aka Organi has been running Wyldwood Studios in Oakland CA for some 15+ years (recording artists like Tommy Guerrero, Spelling, Why?, Latyrx, Del, Dan The Automator, and Big Freedia, to name but a few). A multi-instrumentalist who’s obviously in love with the 60s/70s, he loves to work with analog equipment (“We just love us some analog!” “Just listen to those relays purr…”). Recorded and mixed by Mike Walti at Wyldwood, “Babylonia” will be released on vinyl/digital by Alien Transistor.

On alene et, Michaela Turcerová, a Copenhagen-based, Slovakia born musician, takes minutiae — the tiniest scrapes and breathiest hums — and distorts them into sprawling, collaged webs that barely resemble the instrument in its natural state. Each shard, when pieced together, makes a rhythmic, undulating sound born from the subtlest motions.

Alene et marks Turcerová’s debut as a soloist, putting a spotlight on the exploratory approach she has developed on her own and across a variety of collaborations. She has long studied the quiet excavation of her instrument, pulling it apart to find a new vocabulary. To develop this language, she unearths shards of sound from the instrument, muting it or bringing out its scratchiness and grittiness. Primarily working with open-ended scores and improvisation, she is inspired by various percussive music, looking to deep sonic awareness to guide her. As a soloist, her music harkens to the abstracted electronics present across the Editions Mego catalog or the distorted ruminations of Nyege Nyege tapes. And no matter where she goes, she is constantly in the pursuit of the unknown — the hidden elements of music that come to life through experimentation and listening.

With alene et, Turcerová presents her singular language on the saxophone to the fullest. To make this music, she placed many microphones close to her instrument, zeroing in to each sound and examining it from multiple different angles. She emphasizes the percussive possibilities of her instrument, puzzle-piecing each note into pulsating webs. Each track highlights a different side of the saxophone — the bristling distortion and amplification of a column of air as it blows through her saxophone’s body, the trickling tapping of the keys as she places her fingers onto them.

At its core, alene et presents Turcerová’s curiosity. The saxophone lives many different lives within her hands, shapeshifting through the uncovering of its possibilities. She shows us how the instrument is an ever-changing entity, a distorted and blown out drone with a thousand shards poking out from inside of it. But more than just a showcase of an individual instrument, alene et feels like a statement of the act of exploration. Turcerová is an excavator, always looking for new worlds hidden within her saxophone, and leaving room for more to come alive with each listen.

Factor City kicks off its third decade in full swing, led by Undo solo and accompanied by its usual partners Casiowaves and Vicknoise.

It all began in 2003 when Undo & Vicknoise laid the foundation for the label with "Noctámbula," and over the years, they continued to collaborate closely, managing the label and producing "hits" such as "Orca" or "Happy Monday." From 2011 onward, following an amicable parting, Undo began to run the label solo while maintaining the same spirit and distinctive sound of the Barcelona-based label, always at the forefront of dance music produced in Spain.

Now, in 2024, in a "digital” world where fewer and fewer things can be touched with our fingers and where 100,000 songs are uploaded to Spotify every day, Factor City is charting a different course and starts a new decade on the dance floors by returning to vinyl releases and persisting in their low key and relaxed approach, releasing few and carefully curated records from their artists each year.

“Ciudad Futura” opens with "Good Times," a track by Undo that radiates joy and positivity. An euphoric ride through landscapes of analog synthesizers and drum machines. The second track on side A is signed by Undo & Vicknoise, who hadn't produced together in 15 years. And we hope they won't take as long to get back in the studio together after hearing the fantastic track "Electric Rainbow." A delightful slice of electro-disco. The B side is signed by the recent combo of Undo and Casiowaves. The first track, "Secret Worlds," follows in the wake of their recent releases on Factor City and Melodize with that winning combination of retro 80s and 90s synths with vocoders and a more contemporary production. Closing out the record is "Astralia," a vibrant "power synth pop" anthem adorned with FM synths and acid-tinged melodies. Thanks for listening!

Carpet is a band from Germany with huge influences by prog rock, psychedelic music, stoner rock and jazz. It's like putting Motorpsycho, Jaga Jazzist, the Notwist and the Beatles in a studio to create new material together. After their debut "Elysian Pleasures" in 2013, which was highly appreciated by listeners and the press (e.g. album of the month, eclipsed magazine), they widened their musical spectrum on the following two albums "Secret Box" (2017) and "About Rooms and Elephants" (2018) - all released on the Colour Haze Label Elektrohasch. The path to the new album began with a songwriting weekend in a tiny, remote cottage in the Italian Alps and continued in the band's own studio and in the studio of their mixing engineer Maximilian Wörle in their hometown Augsburg. With "Collision", Carpet recorded a strong and powerful album: "Some songs and parts were created in one go, almost from the gut, and are bursting with energy. Others were worked out down to the last detail and developed into sophisticated song structures." It is certainly this perfectly dosed, precise mixture of a heavy rock attitude with sophisticated songwriting and finely balanced arrangements that in a way marks the band's DNA.

Felix Machtelinckx is a singer, composer, producer and lyricist from Belgium. Featuring an array of film scores, dance soundtracks, pop, folk and electronic music, Felix's music resonates with a familiar, almost nostalgic patina, applied with a distinctly crooked touch. Through artistic collaboration, coaching and production, Felix has cut a dash in the pop and indie cult scenes of Belgium, especially with his band Tin Fingers, who are feted as one of the most promising indie acts of the moment. Night Scenes, Felix’s solo debut is, in contrast to his other work, more humble and less traditional, roughly hewn from a series of ambient soundscapes, earthy textures and playful structures. Felix’s voice, normally the flagship of his music, becomes more of a distant memory, an indistinct emotion feathered throughout the music. Many lyrics are improvised, sometimes unintelligible, conjuring haunted, uncertain undertones. Similarly, the album is innately peripatetic to the core, being created, written and recorded in Lithuania, Belgium, France, mastered in the US, and finally released in the UK. In the first instance, some of the tracks were created for the contemporary dance piece Doggy Rugburn by Brandon Lagaert of Kaiho and Peeping Tom; others were created enigmatically for a film that never surfaced; while the remainder are the product of more personal work and research. As Felix began to collect and review these disparate parts, the concept of a unified album began to evolve. With 'night' featuring as a suitably dark leitmotif, or backdrop to a series of emotionally fraught 'scenes', each track depicts a form of trauma, locked within the confines of the mind. Felix observes: "Imagine yourself in a dusty old room unable to sleep. Emotions, fears and other demons haunt your mind. This in-between state makes your mind reach for other worlds. This is Night Scenes." For the most part, Night Scenes was created using a variety of old, and rare, analogue equipment. With almost no digital editing, the record was primarily mixed through a vintage cassette desk, giving it a nostalgic character with a noisy undertone. Felix fully embraced the synergy of his emotional themes and retrograde gear, enthusing: "A lot of textures were created on an old Soviet synthesizer that causes a blackout when you hit the lowest note on the keyboard. The dysfunctionality of the synths was often used to create rhythm and texture." This unnerving ability Night Scenes has to comfort and confound the listener is summed up by Jordan Hudson, House Of Media producer, and music podcaster, when he concludes: "Some songs on the album have this sort of fleeting comfort and tonality, which dissolves into a subtle rhythmic/structural or modulated disarray the moment I settle into them - this really fits with my experience of the night .. This record is a winner, and will be something I'll listen to a lot from here on

From out of nowhere - if nowhere is the febrile, warped and twilit imagination of Julia McFarlane - comes Whoopee, the second album by J.McFarlane’s Reality Guest. Whoopee is an esoteric, kaleidoscopic movie in music form directed by Julia McFarlane and co-conspirator Thomas Kernot. Full of life, breakbeats and smokey vignettes on the fragile nature of interpersonal relationships, Whoopee is a stylistic evolution from everything McFarlane has done before. Surreal, beautiful in parts and replete with the aching wisdom McFarlane’s songwriting has always promised, this Reality Guest pulls back the curtain on a whole scene of naked truth. Recorded in Melbourne in bursts since the release of 2019’s Ta Da, Whoopee features a new sound palette and band member in Kernot. The duo dive deep into electronic pop tropes, mining digital synths, samples, breakbeats and deep bass grooves, largely dispensing with live instrumentation. If Ta Da took twists and turns with your expectations, offering a Dada-ist, monochromatic take on pop music, Whoopee is McFarlane’s subterranean love-sick pinks, reds, greens, purples and blues. Becoming something of a tradition, the album starts with an instrumental intro pilfered from a 90s’ spy film or cinema intro music, puffing up the listener for the heart-squeezing bathos of Full Stops. Over a bleary backdrop of walking bass lines, jazz- inflected keys and smoked-out atmosphere, McFarlane’s poetry narrates the fragile state of a relationship: “You put a full stop where I thought there’d be a comma, I want the story to continue even with all the drama.” Over a palpable pain, the narrator is revelling in the drama of a relationship, addicted to tumult and heightened emotion. On Sensory, a space age bachelor lounge pad ballad, the converse state of the previous song is explored, here the narrator is battling the numbness of being out of the drama, stuck in a sensory-deprivation tank, anaesthesized and battling to emerge from the fog. Wrong Planet explores an otherworldly pop music, hewing a bright hook out of a sense of confusion. A bona-fide, sing-along chorus bursts out of the narrator musing on the absurdity of existing in this reality. It speaks of one of Julia McFarlane’s main talents, her knack of inspecting human relationships and states with a clear perspective, like an alien visiting Earth and realising everything we are is really, really strange. Whoopee is both more accessible than previous Reality Guest work and somehow more obfuscated. Where the production on Ta Da was dry, sharp and strange, this Reality Guest is blurred, almost smeared with the effluvium of 90s+00s culture and existence. Through it all, it’s hard to deny the undeniable pull of the songs. Precious Boy carries on the lounge theme with a whole sampler of cut up sounds fading in and out of the haze as McFarlane’s voice is right up to the speaker cooing and free- associating, maybe in love or maybe in confusion... maybe they’re the same thing? Sometimes the listener is invited to just bathe in the tone of the vocal, as on Apocalypse, where the texture and timbre of the vocal is luxurious, bathing in piano tinkles and double bass throb. On lead single Slinky, a cut up beat reminiscent of Washingtonian Go-Go drum patterns leads, the song slipping through your fingers, elusive and presenting sound as pure pleasure. Closer Caviar jumps back into the broken breakbeats of a surreal funk, fuelled by the sensory pleasure of the music, a hedonistic whirl in rapture, the narrator now living life to the fullest in all its giddy heights and deep troughs. This is the album’s main character fully-actualised and in the terrible, beautiful moment.

In 1972, a foursome of design students set out to make a record. This was, in many ways, a strictly creative endeavor. The quartet — composed of Dave Pescod, Alan Lewis, Phil Rawle, and Ted Rockley — were all trained, not as musicians, but as creatives. Art school heavyweights, the four were well-versed in the methodology of intentional experimentation, in the delicate balance of pushing the limits without completely unmooring oneself from a guiding creative intention. Emboldened by a high-brow familiarity with thoughtful experimentation and all the non-conviction of non-musicians, Bowes Road Band’s stint in the world of popular music yielded a record that is as much mind-melting as it is a direct product of its time. Their sprawling LP “Back in the HCA” embodies the exigence “art for art’s sake,” but it is for art’s sake that this record, however off the deep end it seems to travel (hear: “Doctor, Doctor”), remains a unified, and stunning, body of work. The LP’s do-ityourself garage rock noisemaking meets highfalutin creative processes. “Back in the HCA” is warbling psychedelic freakout (“Two Fingers,” “Doctor, Doctor”), Donovan-esque English countryside folk stylings (“Inside My Head,” “Goodbye to Rosie”), and avant-garde jazz improvisions (“Grass is Grass,” “Tomorrow’s Truth”) in one luminous release.

Originally an 9-track LP, Jakarta, Uno Loop, and Bowes Road Band decided to mine the six most cohesive tracks for the reissue, though the extras may be released somewhere down the line. Cohesion efforts aside, “Back in the HCA” stands alone in its singular conception of a genre-bending continuum — it evades definition. That said, the LP can easily be situated in the sonic environment in which it was conceived. By the end of the 60s, England was crawling with blues-based rock outfits that were starting to venture into prog rock territory. You can hear this popular dint cast over the folkier side of the LP. But Bowes Road Band was armed with their non-musicianship: they existed completely liberated from the motivating yet ultimately paralyzing lust for stardom. Enjoying this liberation, Bowes Road Band was utterly free to make noise. This freedom meant drawn out sax interludes amidst sweetly folk stylings (“Grass is Grass”) and Shaggs-like fuzzed-out freakouts that spiral into a void (Doctor, Doctor). This freedom also meant straight-forward tuneful cuts like “Goodbye Rosie” that conspicuously introduce heavily distorted auto-organ accompaniment mid-track amidst poignant lyricism. Bowes Road Band crafts a unified sound and then cracks it open.

With a completely off-the-radar status, Bowes Road Band could only press 50 copies of the record — 10 for each of them and 10 for the school. The band’s lifespan was to end there, or so they thought. “Back in the HCA” was the accidental fruit of a Berlin flea market treasure hunt by Jannis Stürtz, DJ and co-founder of Habibi Funk and Jakarta Records. After finding and sharing the LP with a few colleagues, Stürtz managed to get in touch with the band, get ahold of the master tapes collecting dust in Ted Rockley’s attic, and start the reissuing process. The record is still adorned with its original cover art designed by Alan Pescod, both reminiscent of bygone school days and the Zoom calls of yesterday — in short, reunion. Its re-discovery was happenstance and ought to be listened to as such. That is, “Back in the HCA” was not made to be listened to on a broad scale, or, at least, was not made with this goal in mind; it is neither in its time nor of its time. Of course, the group explicitly cites the folk tunes of the English countryside, the distorted rock groups that reigned during the record’s conception, and the fringes of psychedelic music that only the uber-underground might recognize (e.g., “Dreaming of Alice”). Yet still with these obvious influences, “Back in the HCA” always existed beyond the domain of both traditional musicianship and conventional commodification. Bowes Road Band’s DIY musicality beams through in technicolor across “Back in the HCA.” The vinyl includes an 8-page booklet detailing the albums creation and interviews with the band.

Lead single “Grass is Grass,” out July 14 along with album pre-order, encapsulates the record’s range: the track unfurls into a sprawling sax-driven trip following a sundrenched, Donovan-esque intro w/ lyrics “naively about parks and gardens, not marijuana!” The keyed-down folk cut “Goodbye to Rosie” is single 2 and elevates stripped-down acoustics with golden tinges, out August 4th. Focus track “Tomorrow’s Truth” constructs the fuzzed-out underbelly of acid folk. Listen for echoes of late Beatles, Mark Fry, and Donovan (if they were armed by an unshakabele willful naiveté). Like Sgt. Pepper’s on a shoestring budget—take a trip to the underground with LP “Back in the HCA,” available everywhere physically and digitally on September 1st via Jakarta Records and Uno Loop.

Besides online promotion from label profiles, the album will be further promoted by external agencies within the UK and US.

Joel Paterson has been a mainstay of the Chicago roots music scene for
over twenty years, playing with many bands and showcasing his unique
blend jazz, blues, rockabilly, country and western swing
'Wheelhouse Rag' is a 14- track collection of original rags and country blues on
solo, finger picking acoustic guitar.
The all- acoustic, 1920's- tinged 'Wheelhouse Rag' may at first seem like a
departure in genre for the guitarist - he is predominantly known for his
instrumental multitracked recordings reminiscent of Les Paul and Chet Atkins -
Joel learned to play guitar by ear from the records of acoustic legends such as
Blind Blake, Robert Johnson, Reverend Gary Davis, and Big Bill Broonzy. He later
expanded his repertoire to include techniques of the thumb-picking giants Merle
Travis and Chet Atkins. These influences can be heard throughout the album,
mixed in with many more twists and turns from the mind of the artist, to bring
you, 'Wheelhouse Rag:' the original fingerstyle guitar instrumentals of Joel
Paterson.
Original fingerstyle guitar rag and country blues instrumentals by in-demand
Chicago roots guitarist Joel Paterson, who has played with Cactus Blossoms, JD
McPherson, Kelley Hogan, and more, bringing his unique blend of jazz, blues,
rockabilly, and country & western style to the mix.
RIYL: Les Paul, Chet Atkins, Reverend Gary Davis, Cactus Blossoms, Pokey
LaFarge, Merle Travis
"Guitarist Paterson's free-ranging music defies easy categorization. He addresses
classic country, blues and Tin Pan Alley tunes as timeless works that reward
repeated listening." - Howard Reich, Chicago Tribune"Of all the "vintage" artists
injecting new life into bygone styles with originality and a sense of humor, Joel
Paterson just might top the list." - Dan Forte, Vintage Guitar Magazine

Drawing the night in around his private, unnerving vigil, Ellis Swan returns to Quindi Records with an album of cracked beauty and haunted balladry. The Chicago-based singer-songwriter debuted on the label last year with a collaborative project called Dead Bandit, a vividly produced instrumental set in thrall to the badlands and a laconic, languid Americana.

Under his own name, Swan records intimate, poetic songs in a stark fashion, so fragile they might disintegrate in between your fingers were you to pick them up. He draws the microphone close to pick up every whisper and drags the music through layer upon layer of tape fuzz, leaving room for atmospheric impressions which loom out of the walls like the ghosts of past misdeeds. These pieces play on the natural distortion and delirium which occurs at the farthest end of the night - the hour before dawn might hope to break the veil of darkness.

Swan's is a hauntological sound, but like the late Israeli rockabilly icon Charlie Megira his process strikes a spooked tone past revivalism and out of time or place. The only anchor which places Swan anywhere is the subtle presence of Katherine Swan providing lyrics to '3am' and lyrics and backing vocals to 'It Could Be Worse'.

The impression cast is of one man and his guitar, but there are other textures tucked into the music - the muffled murmur of a drum machine or a low frequency organ hum, some desolate piano, other treated percussive impulses which might well have been the work of incidental sprites while the four-track was rolling.

There are fuller cuts like 'Evening Sun' and the title track '3am' which play with structural dynamics and creep out of the shadows a touch, while passages of plaintive, instrumental unease such as the hypnotic, mantra-like 'Chinatown' protract the space between songs. 'Swing' lolls between moments of bottomless silence and a discernible, rickety funk, and 'Puppeteers Tears' teases out a buried drama. But primarily, it's the light touch of 'Horses Bones' and tin can tenderness of 'She's My Sweet Summer Storm' which spell out the spellbinding character of 3am; a singular creation fusing the best qualities of folk, blues and Americana with a fearlessly experimental sound palette.

Following the release of Collision and Coalescence, Slovakian label mappa commits to the duo Grykë Pyje, releasing their third LP "Squirlich Stroll". Maintaining the fabled tone of their debut on the label, Jani Hirvonen (Uton) and Johannes Schebler (Baldruin) dig deeper into the sonic vein of myth and fabric of yonder. The music in "Squirlich Stroll" unravels as a yarn brought back from a wild voyage.

On uncharted areas of medieval maps where potential dangers were thought to exist, the inscription "Here be dragons" was used to warn as much as to tempt explorers willing to cross limits. Myth awaited them as a blank page of dormant territory, yet also to be proved unlike and reinvented. In such pliable borders, wonder had the favorable conditions to blend experience and imagination, crafting creatures with an eye instead of a bellybutton, arms instead of ears and ears instead of fingers, hypnotizing spirals where a mouth should have been. These chimeras, though fictitious, allowed explorers to express their delusions along with their fears. "Here be dreams", we hear nightmares. Here be mushrooms the size of pyramids that sing lullabies for mountains. Here be talking roads that lead to volcanoes throats and spit you back to flight. Here be art of bending trees into braided bridges like in Meghalaya, and the time gap between seed and living ruins.

Let that be the compass, the astrolabe. Yet, the music in Squirlich Stroll comes with these journeys already embraced, unraveling as a story told by wanderers visiting town, nourishing fantasy. The sonic language and diction employed here are crystal clear. Sounds are sharp and pure. Growls, howls, shrieks, tingles, rattles, moans, excretions and even hymns sung by landscape and creatures alike do not run over each other. There is no chaos, but ambience, cohabitation. The duo masters dramaturgy, providing every voice with focused turns and character, guarding their parley with caution and care, convoking them mainly through soothing synth melodies that enable an analgesic, sedative mood. Clusters of sounds gathered are articulated through the album with the inherent luminosity and required stability to accomplish what peaks in, as the title of the final track reads, a new dawn.

Pressed on pink marbled vinyl

Shall Not Fade's garage and breaks sublabel, Time is Now, has been a great success in its first year, and now starts 2021 with the first in a series of hand-stamped white label releases. London via Madrid up-and-comer Tower Block Dreams makes his debut for the label with five killer cuts, backed with a weighty remix from Manchester-based garage maestro and Time Is Now regular Interplanetary Criminal.

The A-side is all reliable garage bangers; the opener, "Wicked Ya No" is a rude wobbler for the early hours, with rave piano stabs and a dirty drop. Track two "Keep Coming" loses none of the pace, chopping up playful R'n'B diva vocals to a hard bassline; and the A-side ends with a sidewinding beast of a track in "Soundboy". Think retro synths paired with timestretched ragga vocals - it's unashamedly filthy.

Onto the B-side with gun fingers out for "Truss We", which plays again with ravey stabs and staccato female vocals for an instant dancefloor banger. Tower Block Dreams' last offering on the record is much darker; a forward stepper that cruises along at half-time, creating an ominous atmosphere on which to lead into Interplanetary Criminal's remix of "Wicked Ya Know". This one reimagines the record opener in the producer's trademark high-octane style, smattering hyper breakbeats across the track and turning up the wobble to end the record with a stinker

Shadow Kingdom Records is proud to present Hour of 13’s long-awaited
fourth album, ‘Black Magick Rites’, on CD and vinyl LP.
‘Black Magick Rites’ is the sweet sound of salvation...through damnation.
Hour of 13’s first full-length offering in over eight years, ‘Black Magick Rites’
was available digitally on the first of November 2020 for only 24 hours. Just as
uniquely, ‘Black Magick Rites’ also marks the first Hour of 13 album where he
handles not only all instruments, but also all vocals.
Indeed, Davis’ vocals evoke an ancient nostalgia, of doom metal before it was
“”doom metal”” - of the days when bands like Black Sabbath, Pagan Altar, and
Witchfinder General simply followed their respective muses wherever it took
them. And for Davis, ‘Black Magick Rites’ sees him taking his Hour of 13 muse
toward a rougher, more rock ‘n’ roll expression and yet tinged with an emotive
melancholy that resonates deeply within the soul.
No, no flavor-of-the-week “”occult rock”” cliches here, for Davis still prizes
blue-collared authenticity in his doom, but he likewise never lets it hamper his
immediately recognizable songwriting, which here ever so subtly inches closer
to classic deathrock territory (think the likes of early Christan Death and Voodoo Church).
Naturally, with a title like ‘Black Magick Rites’, an indulgence in occultism is expected, and you can literally feel the fingers of the black beyond reaching out
to you across every electric minute of this 44-minute monolith.

On “Skeleton Elevator”, a hair-tingling, spine-popping, ribcage-rattling slab of twisted tundra boogie, Finland’s Cosmo Jones Beat Machine have their bony fingers on the global pulse of underground rock’n’roll, invoking the spirits of Beefheart, the Fall and Funkadelic. Cosmo Jones Beat Machine have a history that spans over two decades and starts in the woods and the wild in eastern Finland. Over the years the band have lived through five album releases, countless lineup changes and furious live appearances around Scandinavia and Europe that have brought the band a minor cult following. Skeleton Elevator is their sixth album altogether and the first in six years. The six years spent in cultivating the album now at hand have further tempered the band’s trademark sound, which is comprised of primitive but captivating rhythms and a terrifying racket. The vocalist Pharaoh Pirttikangas’ trademark raspy delivery, which has deepened over the years, weaves stories dug up from the Mississippi Delta in the pale moonlight and distilled through an eastern Finnish swamp. The new album’s Beefheartian clatter is at times spiced with influences from unexpected directions such as disco (Minimal Brain Dysfunction Generation) and Funkadelic-style space funk (Transformed). The band recorded the bulk of the album during a 24-hour session without sleep, which only adds to the record’s pleasantly unpolished, frantic edge.

Songwriter and fingerstyle guitarist, Jason McNiff releases his 7th full length album, Dust Of Yesterday, on April 16th. Produced and engineered by Roger Askew (Joe Strummer, Wilko Johnson, Christy Moore) the album was recorded throughout the summer and autumn of 2020 in Roger's home studio in Eastbourne, UK. It features McNiff's signature acoustic guitar work throughout with significant contributions from Beth Porter (of Eliza Carthy's band) on cello and Basia Bartz (most London based folk bands) on violin. 
 
His first album since leaving London - McNiff is now based in Hastings - Dust of Yesterday is an elegy on moving away from a beloved place and a lament for lost youth. We are treated to a musical tour of McNiff's life to date, from his 8-year residency as a Flamenco guitarist in a Spanish bar in Waterloo (Damaged Woman) to hopping the northbound train from King's Cross, hiding in the lavatory up to Nottingham (A Load Along). All the songs on Dust of Yesterday, in one way or another, speak of the past. But it is not bleary-eyed nostalgia. 

"I read somewhere that it is possible to literally change the past and I became very interested in this idea. It so happened around the same time that I discovered the Greek/Egyptian poet, Cavafy. In his poems he would talk about the past, but the memory is not a thing of the past, but something that is still part of him in the present. I could relate to that. "

Musically, Jason is influenced by the British acoustic guitarists (Jansch, Graham, Wizz Jones) and the great folk/rock troubadours of the 60s and 70s. He loves Mark Knopfler in the early days; the English teacher turned reluctant rock star, singing about Leeds and Newcastle and sounding like JJ Cale. For McNiff, the lyrics are central, and he has been especially captivated by those considered poets and writers as well as musicians. He loves literature and cites Hemingway, Chekhov and the aforementioned Cavafy, as major influences in his work. ( He has 'translated' Hemingway's 'For Whom the Bell Tolls' into a song on a previous album, 'Nobody's Son')
 
 
Jason McNiff was born in Bradford, Yorkshire in 1974 to an Irish father and Polish mother. Academically gifted, he did well at school and went to the University of Nottingham to study French and Russian. He fell in with the Folk & Blues scene in that city before moving to London in the mid-nineties to do another degree in English Lit. He was just in time to catch the Bert Jansch residency at the 12 Bar club. For 6 months, every Wednesday night, McNiff would be in the front row of Soho's tiny club learning fingerstyle from the master. He would later sign his first record deal with Snowstorm Records, a label run by Bert's brother-in-law and found himself opening for Bert on numerous occasions. 
There followed a string of albums on various labels, including 2003's Nobody's Son (Americana UK album of the year) and 2011's April Cruel (nominated for best alt-country album at the Independent Music Awards in the US.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

pink vinyl limited to 500
Insides’s music shimmers and tingles with the tantalising promise of a different direction that UK pop could’ve gone: future-facing and fresh, rather than nostalgic regurgitation.” Simon Reynolds, author and music critic, writing in  Euphoria re-issue liner-notes in 2019

“A sound still as dew fresh, dawn dazzled and shot through with luscious darkness as it was nigh on three decades ago.” Neil Kulkarni, The Wire, 2019

Insides are Julian Tardo and Kirsty Yates. They first recorded together in the early 90s as Earwig, and released an album, 'Under My Skin I am Laughing', which brought them to the attention of 4AD. Earwig morphed into Insides and  two further albums were released on 4AD’s Guernica imprint: ‘Euphoria' (1993) and 'Clear Skin' (1994). In 2019 ‘Euphoria' was reissued for US Record Store Day by Beacon Sound, and was hailed as a lost treasure by discerning outlets. 

'Soft Bonds' is Insides’ first release for 20 years. It’s the sound of heart-stopping slow motion, blood rushes, fingers digging into bruised flesh, and sleeping with clenched fists.

“We found some things that were recorded a long time ago. We added some things that have been haunting us for for years and recorded some other ideas that we’d just thought of. Recording started at home in 2012, and continued every now and then in our studio, on trains, in the Greek island of Naxos and while wandering around Cissbury Ring, Chanctonbury Ring and Devil’s Dyke in the South Downs. We finally walked away from the recordings in late 2019 and decided to release a small run of CDs and LPs on our own Further Distractions label.

'Soft Bonds' is about the past haunting the present, and gripping onto your crumbling sense of self. It’s informed by the spirit of This Heat/This Is Not This Heat, Patty Waters, Annette Peacock, Eartheater, Mhysa, Hailu Mergia, Scott Walker and Arca.”

The first track to be released, 'Ghost Music', was also the first to be finished and came about by scrapping the original structure, leaving only the trace elements. Working in the negative space that’s left behind, where rhythms are pulses and heartbeats and melodies are memories, it’s insistent, staring, but not shouting. Almost absent, or heard from another room. The video uses footage of Kirsty and Julian filmed and used in live shows in 1993 and cut with more recent footage from 2016. The past haunts the present.

“Pop loving the sound of itself to death. And hating the fact that it can’t stop loving.” Rob Young, The Wire, 1993

“...they seemed to be creating an entirely new version of pop. Their hooks were unmistakable, in that they triggered movement like perpetual-motion clockwork. Their grooves were sparse and spectral and nagged at you like breakbeats but made your heart and hair-follicles dance more than your feet. Their music was amniotic, ebbing and alive with iridescent melodic detail and lyrics that turned the turmoils and trauma of love into the sweetest searing honesty you’d been privy to since you first heard the Supremes.” Neil Kulkarni, The Quietus, 2011

Unnatural, uneasy, unexpected. 'The Great Filter' keeps you on your toes constantly, it makes your fingers tingle with anticipation and the hairs on your arms stand up from the tension. It is eerily calm and controlled, while it takes you to faraway places in the twilight, that don't actually exist. Subdued, bright yellow light with no sun in sight. Wide plains with an inherent structure that can only be illogical. Unorganic sounds, alien voices, excited synths and sobering organs. Reality is so mundane. The way we are now expecting it from Krink, he does what is unexpected and stretches conventions somewhere around techno and deep house. The music is driven by imagery rather than song structure. The EP puts cutting rhythms over comfort and sound over beauty. Like a focused dream, it is concrete and abstract. Let's get found in the universe. Vital Sales Points: DJ promo, German print & online, UK/international online

Nisantashi Primary School are Vlad, Lucy and Mykhaylo from Kiev. This electronic-pop trio embraces weird sounds and holds omnivorous but clearly discerning appetites for mixing disco, funk and dub grooves. Their debut EP is a mix of snappy and moody synth sounds, vintage-tinged bass lines and gritty rhythms.

The selection of tracks is a showcase of moods and influences: from the feverish and psychedelic "Mr. Fingers" with Fumaça Preta's Alex Figueira on drums, to the nocturnal dancefloor gem Hills'. Hints of dance records from 80's NYC, synth-based disco and krautrock come through, but an eastern european immediacy and faux-débutant approach brings its own flavor to the table.

While dance music from Kiev might seem surprising, what do we really know about this city's energy From the place where so many things are happening these days, maybe it's time to see something else unfold.

10 Years Boxset

In the spring of 2007, musician and producer Paul 'Mudd'
Murphy decided to launch his own label. Named after the house
he grew up in, Claremont 56 would release beautiful music by
friends, associates, collaborators and like-minded musicians.
In the 10 years that have passed since, Claremont 56 has more
than surpassed Murphy's modest expectations. It has built up
a cult following around the world, with listeners responding
positively to the label's combination of magical music, beautiful
artwork, and impeccable packaging.
To mark the label's frst decade, Murphy has put together
a sumptuous vinyl box set of previously unheard material,
produced and presented with the same attention to detail that
listeners have come to expect.
Each copy of Claremont 56: 10 Years contains fve weighty slabs
of wax and a bespoke info sheet, housed in a specially designed,
hand-numbered box with debossed logos on the front and rear.
However impressive the packaging, it's the music that makes
Claremont 56: 10 Years stand out. Featuring a mixture of
unreleased tracks and brand new remixes of vintage label
releases, the highlights come thick and fast.
As you'd expect, some of the most impressive contributions
come from those artists you could describe as legendary',
including Chicago deep house originators Larry Heard and Ron
Trent. Can legend Holger Czukay kindly contributes one of the
standout moments, the eccentric 'Music To Be Murdered By',
from his own unreleased catalogue, while Afro-cosmic pioneer
Daniele Baldelli joins forces with Marco Dionigi to deliver a
typically spacey remix of Bison's 'Familiar Stranger'. There's also
an epic, Afro-tinged dub disco remix of Smith & Mudd's 'Nether'
by Norwegian scene founder Bjorn Torske.
Elsewhere, Good Timin' man Jex Opolis turns an overlooked
track by Paraiso into a samba-boogie killer, Sean P dubs out
Zee Erf's beautiful cover of 'Southern Freeez', and Phil Mison
turns FreshRo's laidback electrofunk cut 'Pacifc State' into a
breezy, Balearic gem. Look out too, for the emotion-rich beauty
of Statues' 'River Darkness' - a track arguably worth the cost
of the box set on its own - and the deep space explorations of
Almunia's Leo Ceccanti.
We could go on, but we're running out of space. Sufce to say,
Claremont 56: 10 Years is a lovingly compiled, curated and
presented celebration of the label's frst decade.

Following releases in the past for Exploited Records, Rinse FM and Future Classic to name just a few, Cardiff-based duo Bodhi have found a new home on Black Butter Records.
With the release of the 'Howler' EP, they'll be joining a roster that includes Woz, My Nu Leng, Rudimental, Gorgon City and Clean Bandit.

Includes the acid tinged title track, and Mr Fingers style 'Brawd' with an insistent vocal loop steadily building the energy before fizzing synth pads and pneumatic drumwork come to the fore, transporting the track to moody late-night club territory.

Audio Casette Tape
Following up on the experimental sounds of LP3 and LP4, RATATAT return to their core guitar-driven sound on Magnifique which was recorded over the course of four years in various studios in different locations including Jamaica (the country), upstate New York, Long Island, NY and their home studio in Brooklyn. The art for Magnifique includes a series of sketches drawn by Mast and Stroud during the recording sessions. What else can you expect on Magnifique: pedal steel guitar, the sound of a tiny 1940's guitar amp found in a thrift store in Guadalajara used on Intro,' a song named upon the discovery that the guys both had posters of a ' Countach' on their walls in junior high (the duo met in college), and a cover, their first ever, called I Will Return' by Springwater (aka Phil Cordell).

Federsen returns to Fifth Interval for another sublime instalment of dance floor friendly dub-techno. Dewpoint is an altogether tighter affair when compared to the label's first release, Point Reyes.

The drums are taut and razor-sharp, propelling the listener effortlessly through a dense fog of ferric clouds, swelling to fill the outer-reaches of the echo chamber. A highly polished metallic production style that can be compared to some of Andy Stott's early and classic works.

Tomas Rubek remixes Dewpoint for the B-side, remaining faithful to the original track's structure but viewing it through a tinted lens. Dewpoint's chords become iridescent, kick drums fall into a straighter pattern and are backed by further dusty percussion, shifting the original into spheres inhabited by the likes of Rod Modell and Fluxion.

12" 180g vinyl with printed sleeve.

Mastered by Lewis at Stardelta.

"Original mix is dope." - Brendon Moeller (Beat Pharmacy)

"Really digging this remix. It's been on repeat this morning." - Silent Season

"Full support, I will play it, love Federsen's work!" - Fingers in the Noise

"Played on BBC Radio" - Steve Barker (The Wire)