Compiled onto one vinyl album for the first time, Landlocked (Numbers, 2026) presents Hallucinator’s 1999 debut album originally released under Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald’s label Chain Reaction. Writing much surrounding the culture of what would be later considered ‘Dub Techno’ and its’ primary distribution center, Hard Wax, leads one down roads of shifting primary sources and decades old overheard smoke break recollections. Maybe brevity primes the listener to the paralinguistic to approach the sound on its terms; focusing on how things are uttered and not what.
This theory will remain unconfirmed. Hallucinator original press release left us with three or so gestures to consider over the years since:
“A new act on CHAIN REACTION”s distinct productional thesis. HALLUCINATOR are 3 people from he UK/London and this their first release ever- that’s all what the artists want to let us know…. This record is dedidacted to the memory of Stephen Lawrence!”
The first gesture is one of personnel. Since ’99, we’ve gotten to learn a bit more about the artists behind the Hallucinator project. All London-based, all writers, composers, and sound-designers— Anna Piva, Edward George, Trevor Mathison. These three seem to flow between parameters as aesthetic tactic and tacit structure to the work itself. For example, other collaborative shapes have come from this lineup including Flow Motion (Piva, George and Mathison) as well as the now defunct Black Audio Film Collective of which George and Mathison are founding members.
The second gesture is in the second line of the previous press release, “distinct productional thesis.” Much of Landlocked’s affect and sequencing seems to suggest an emotional study of entropy at the level of sediment. Rhythms play with space and capacity through polyvalence. The production chose subtractive vertigo, often switching and bringing back in elements that vanished from the track 6 minutes ago. Dubbing out so much of a track, one begins to associate sound akin to memories held in the experience of running your hand across a concrete block as a child. Felt (re)memberance in lieu of narrative tale. Using textures that flicker between colour and percussion, Hallucinator’s 12-tracker of loudspeaker perception music might be a mediation on the psychic wake of the Cold War. Intermittent strata of ambience and groove convects an active margin rifting event underneath a scorched geology of power in Western Europe. Again, this is all grapevine hearsay.
But it’s silence that voices the third gesture. The album’s sparse application of the written word touches on the ennui paradox of being landlocked on an island. Stuck. Trapped in the psychosis of occidental hypercentricism. A looping silence of Black British tragedy: “to the memory of Stephen Lawrence”. 18 year-old Lawrence was stabbed to death at a bus stop in southeast London by six white men in 1993. The rift of grief and implicit reiteration of modern subordination left by this hate act went legally silent for almost two decades until Lawrence’s killers were ultimately sentenced to virtually life in jail in 2012. Only six years removed at the time of Hallucinator’s initial invocation of rememory, the mind-numbing accretion of what Black Studies Professor Denise Ferreira da Silva might call “unpayable debt”, finds demonic ground across Landlocked, forming an aural sense of what continues to be refused.
The album ventures through spaces of overactive non-happenings: ‘Red Angel’’s factory floor dub flashes between smokestack and jungle visions, or the halfway mark’s stilted breath of ‘Dusk’ lending its mood to the sort of sedated dreams built from daily life under colony rule for instance. That linked rhythm links us back to our linked fates across Black and Brown folk is real, thus the syncopated signals through this work behave on the level of transnational radiotelegraphy, sounding out its windswept tension of a body negotiating a meat-grinder schema of linear production and wage for others to know that unspeakable thing can be broadcast in every drum tongue.
As the silence continues to reverb, we return to the sort of meaning-making that cannot be told but felt. Soothing to some, disturbing to others. Landlocked, a Rorschach test for a crumbled empire.
If you dig deep enough into the internet's lower depths, you'll find a shaky video shot on a camcorder. In 43 seconds, we see a makeshift drum kit built out of backyard Ostbahnhof trash, hear distorted vocals, and feel the anarchic energy of band and ravers dissolving into each other. It's now been twenty years since Bonaparte played their very first show at the legendary Bar25 on Berlin's Spree river. The ringmaster of this unhinged musical theater was Tobias Jundt then, and it's Jundt again now bringing the Bonaparte extravaganza back to the stage. New and nostalgic sit close together when the party's been going this long. Or, as they put it: "PARADISE IF YOU CAN STAND IT."
From late October through mid-November, Bonaparte will tour Germany, Austria, and Jundt's native Switzerland at full intensity, the full lineup - band to burlesque. Since their 2006 debut through their supposed farewell in 2019, Bonaparte played over 800 shows in 28 countries. Bottom line: "Too Much" isn't enough to properly celebrate a body of work like this. And the new songs from "PARADISE IF YOU CAN STAND IT" are far too significant not to bring to the stage. The lo-fi trash-punk of Bonaparte's earliest records has been built out with added layers, in production (largely alongside British avant-garde electronic artist HELiX) and in the songwriting itself.
The world certainly hasn't gotten any simpler since 2006. Tracks like "EVERYBODY PRESiDENT," loosely riffing on Zoe Leonard's poem "I Want A Dyke For President," and the corrosive "BRAiN ROT" mirror the social chaos we find ourselves in 2026. "OBEY (THERE iS STiLL A RiOT GOiNG ON)" is just as furious, though here the principle of hope still holds, as a multigenerational choir concludes "everything will be okay." Jundt speaks across generations again on "i LOVE YOU (MORE LATER)," dedicated in equal measure to his parents and his daughters: "Let the echo chamber bleed - from here into eternity."
The reconciliation and hope Bonaparte allows for and tends to, amid violence and all that noise, make "PARADISE IF YOU CAN STAND IT" a singular document of an artist grown wiser. Separation and grief don't cancel out love and vitality - they depend on each other. Ultimately, the album is a record of searching for and finding a home. To arrive, you have to let go.
And what better place to let go than in step with Bonaparte's wild, hedonistic party circus, finally back to gently terrorize our cities?
For South Central’s premier singer, songwriter, and producer, success was never an overnight accident; it was a blueprint executed with meticulous precision. With his highly anticipated project, Labor of Love, Blxst delivers a masterclass in modern West Coast R&B and Hip-Hop, proving that true artistry requires both sweat and soul. The album serves as a sonic manifesto on the price of ambition, the weight of loyalty, and the delicate balance of maintaining romance while building an empire. It stands as a definitive evolution of the distinct sound Blxst pioneered, blending crisp, trunk-thumping 808s with soulful, nostalgic chords and his signature, effortlessly smooth vocal runs.
Entirely self-produced and co-written, Labor of Love bridges the gap between the sun-drenched grit of Los Angeles street culture and the vulnerability of late-night bedroom playlists. From the bounce of celebratory anthems to introspective, late-night drive confessionals, Blxst curates a tracklist that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. It explores the sacrifices made in the pursuit of greatness, paying homage to the sonic pioneers of LA while firmly cementing his own place as the vanguard of the city's modern sound. It is a celebration of independence and the self-made mentality, reminding listeners that he remains the chief architect of his own destiny.
Ultimately, Labor of Love is a testament to the grind, capturing the sleepless nights and tested relationships that pave the road to success. Blxst puts his heart on the line to show that the work itself is where the true passion lives, creating an album for the city, for his family, and for everyone who stays dedicated to their craft. More than just a collection of radio-ready hits, this project is a cohesive, cinematic experience from one of music's most reliable hitmakers. It is a definitive reminder that Blxst isn't just riding the wave—he is directing the current.
LUCIANO LAMANNA — A CARLO Blackwater Label — 2026 Distributed by Triple Vision More than ten years in the making, A CARLO is a single-sided EP by Luciano Lamanna for Blackwater Label, dedicated to Carlo Giuliani and to the memory of the events that unfolded during the G8 protests in Genoa in 2001. This record is the result of a long process, one that began more than a decade ago and has remained unfinished until now. Two tracks, both carrying the name and memory of Carlo, finally complete a circle that has been open for years. The first track, “Il Giorno del Sole”, was previously released on physical CD through Blackwater Label. The second, “Amore Infinito”, arrives more than ten years later, completing the dialogue between the two pieces and giving the project its long-awaited counterpart. Together, the tracks form a deeply emotional and personal statement: melancholic, haunting and at the same time driving and hopeful. Lamanna moves through the industrial language that has always characterised his work, while “Amore Infinito” explores a darker, more intimate territory, evoking the emotional intensity of Coil. A CARLO is not intended as a historical reconstruction or a conventional political statement. It is an act of memory.
The songs of Jules de Corte are condensed, folky gems with an almost effortless charm. Poised between the intimate and the universal, between lightness and darkness, they touch on religion, love, loss, and the small dramas of everyday life. Yet they resist easy translation. Packed with wordplay, de Corte’s signature alliterations, humor, and local cultural references, the songs inevitably lose something in another language. Still, when a Belgian quartet of improvisers takes them on, joined by American songwriter Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, the songs are reborn rather than merely transposed: literal fidelity gives way to interpretation, and what is lost in words is often gained in spirit.
Even without tracing every change, their overall effect is fascinating. Songs are slowed down, often doubled in length, and filled with unexpected musical intrusions. They gain fuller arrangements and are placed in an entirely new context. Replacing de Corte’s piano with guitar can create a radically different vibe, as in “Mariska.” An added solo can heighten the contrast between childlike perspective and the almost matter- of-fact brutality of “Little Anita.” In “The Stranger,” another use of contrast unsettles the everyday harmony, transforming it with a subtle, disorienting twist.
Ultimately, these performances show that interpretation is not successful simply because it is literal. With the groundwork laid by Linus, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy further liberated the songs from their original versions. Lyrics and melodies become malleable, shaped by his recognizable cadences, timbre, and personal quirks. Like his collaborators, he allows himself the freedom to bend the material to his own approach. There is no radical break between this performance and his other records. Listeners familiar with the originals may be puzzled at first; for those new to de Corte, it is a wholly different experience.
Does it really matter that the original “Little Jesus, Mighty God” is a 100-second nugget combining playful naivete with biblical fervor? In the hands of these five explorers, the song becomes an intriguing contemplation, with subtle musical shades and a recitation in which every syllable carries a maturity that offers a new perspective. Then there is “The Outsider,” which feels as genuine as any original American folk song. The musicians’ process is more than reinterpretation—it is reimagination, bringing new musical compatibility and emotional depth. Whether that depth was there from the start, waiting to be uncovered, or created in the process is beside the point. What matters is that Linus and Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy have made the essence of these songs their own, paying homage yet dancing to their own tune.
Linus is the Belgian duo of guitarist and banjo player Ruben Machtelinckx and reedist and synthesiser player Thomas Jillings. Across five previous albums — Onland (2014), Linus + Skarbø / Leroux (2015), Felt Like Old language at the crossroads of folk, jazz, minimalism, chamber music and free improvisation. Their music is adventurous, shaped by a particular sensitivity to texture, timbre and the subtle interaction between musicians.
What began as a duo gradually grew into a flexible musical world, bringing Linus together with musicians such as Nils Økland, Ingar Zach, Niels Van Heertum, Øyvind Skarbø and Frederik Leroux. Yet each new constellation has remained recognisably Linus: music in which carefully considered forms leave space for intuition, interaction and the unexpected.
For their sixth album, Linus takes a new step by moving into the world of song and text. Inspired by a shared love for the late Dutch songwriter Jules De Corte, the album is a reimagining of De Corte’s unique repertoire. More than simply interpreting De Corte’s songs, they absorb and reshape them, bringing them into dialogue with their own musical language. In keeping with this open approach, they are joined by celebrated vocalist Bonnie “Prince” Billy. With albums such as 1999’s I See a Darkness appearing on several greatest album lists, Bonnie “Prince” Billy is a cult figure in the alternative folk scene, and his highly intuitive way of singing seamlessly matches the subtle interplay Linus has developed over more than a decade.
Cologne based DJ and producer Barnt has been bottling his own weather system since 2010: captivating techno where melodies flirt, rhythms evaporate, and structure is something to tease rather than obey. An attitude, that pierces the average definition of techno. With an album and endless EP’s, he turned club orthodoxy inside out. Barnt has sent his tracks out via labels like Cómeme, Mule Musiq, Hinge Finger, Hivern Discs, Kompakt, or Magazine from Cologne, the enterprise he co-runs with a bunch of friends.
After his 2014 debut album on Magazine, that came out as catalogue number 13, Barnt is back with number 25, a new album, titled “After completing the Hex”. Eleven tracks, each grinding lowkey skewed. This is techno for dramatic entrances. Dance music for confusion. Freely played chords oscillate with intention. Alluring melodies glide across stoic beats. Peaktime vibes stripped to the bone. An album that provides Barnt’s most complete release until today, displaying his unique sound world effortless assembled. Mastered by longtime accomplice, producer Matt Karmil, it features playful, seemingly unintentional, meandering club spirits. There are melodies made from 100 notes and hooklines fashioned from just one. In-between calmer electric enchanters, minimal, free-spirted, tempting. His slinky madness occasionally presents sublimely embedded environmental sounds or oral samples, taken from sources like Torn Hawk’s “Trustfall” TTT cassette album. There is a touch of sadness, that veils the recordings at times, always defied by lightness and optimism. A record made with true inspiration, that overrides all fears. Drawn frankly from emotions, bringing the ultimate flow state, that unlocks a new techno gate.
Teal return on October 2 with Love Comes Thru, the trio's nine-track debut album. Expanding their emotionally resonant blend of downtempo trip-pop, the record reaches into street soul, dub, and experimental grooves, marking a confident new chapter for the group.
At its core, Love Comes Thru is a reflection on the quiet strength of love—not through grand gestures, but through the steady presence that carries us through uncertainty, change, and connection. Written over the course of a year of bi-coastal collaboration, the album became a testament to the bond Teal share as artists, friends, and family.
From the lush synth landscapes of "Aries Moon" to the footwork-inspired pulse of "Time Is Blind," the album explores themes of patience, vulnerability, longing, and intimacy. Standout singles "Kissing in a Dream" and the title track lean into left-field street soul, while stripped-back, 808-driven tracks like "Change Your Mind" and "Anomaly" demonstrate the power of restraint without sacrificing momentum. Building on the group's love of ambient improvisation, Love Comes Thru also features instrumental pieces with percussion by Brandon Valdivia (Mas Aya/Lido Pimienta).
The album closes with the sensual "Bubbling," bringing the journey full circle with a reminder that love ultimately comes through in its most embodied, physical form. Love Comes Thru is presented in a deluxe, limited-edition matte-finish, double-embossed jacket with a printed inner sleeve. Available on LP and digitally through Rubadub, In Sheep's Clothing, and Forced Exposure beginning October 2.
33rpm Lacquer-cuts: Kevin Gray
200g Double Ultimate Record®
Limited Edition: 4000 copies
Box and Tip-on Gatefold printed in Italy
Pressed by Simon Garcia, Marciac, France
When the concert started that 4 November 1966 at the famous Berliner Jazztage, four musicians took the stage. Close-knit to the point of telepathy, they were about to give one of their last concerts. The mythical partnership of Stan Getz on saxophone and Gary Burton on the vibraphone was coming to an end, but were they even aware that this was one of their last acts? Accompanying them was an exceptional rhythm section with Chuck Israels on bass and the great Roy Haynes on drums.
With the first notes of “On Green Dolphin Street” the audience was won over by the rapport of empathy within the quartet. The programme was beautifully compiled to alternate flamboyant standards conducive to the most exuberant solos (“The Blues Walk”), heady ballads where Getz demonstrated his splendid sound and lyrical singing (“The Shadow of Your Smile” and “Once Upon a Summertime”), and compositions by Gary Burton where the vibraphonist displayed his subtle harmonic universe (“The Singing Song” and “Edelweiss”).
Suddenly, a high-spirited version of “O Grande Amor”, the standard by Antônio Carlos Jobim and Vinícius de Moraes, sounded out to prefigure the distinctly bossa nova vibe of the second part of the concert: Astrud Gilberto was to take the stage. With the opening bars of “Samba de Uma Nota Só” the flavours of Brazil were palpable. Gilberto’s voice, fragile yet mischievous against the background of the iridescent vibraphone and wrapped within the airy countermelody of the saxophone, recreated all the freshness and innocence of the legendary recording of 1964. As if they were performing together for the first time, Gilberto and Getz played a subtle game of seduction to create music that was sensual, light and melancholic.
The colourful sequence of bossa nova standards – “Você e Eu” by Gilberto Gil, “Corcovado” and “The Girl from Ipanema” by Jobim – intermingled with numbers that were jazzier in both form and spirit – “Jive Hoot” by Bob Brookmeyer, “The Shadow of Your Smile” and “It Might as Well Be Spring” – was simply irresistible.
With the final notes of “Jive Hoot”, Stan Getz smiled and bid farewell to the audience with a simple “Auf Wiedersehen”. The recording of this dream-like performance lay untouched for nearly sixty years, until we unearthed the original tapes in the archives of Berlin Radio. This album is the very first edition of a memorable live concert, entirely restored using Phoenix Mastering®.
Continuing its mission to bring classic records to a modern audience, Tresor Records celebrates the 30th anniversary of The Infiniti Collection with a remastered & expanded edition of this classic compilation from Infiniti, an alias of Detroit originator Juan Atkins, available on vinyl for the very first time.
First gathered together in the mid-'90s, The Infiniti Collection draws together tracks Atkins cut under the Infiniti name across a number of labels into a single, cohesive listen. Where his Model 500 work pushed toward the electro-funk that built Detroit techno's foundation, Infiniti was always the deeper, more
playful persona concentrated on what was then a nascent yet burgeoning techno sound. The collection stands as a document of Atkins at his most exploratory: futurist, hypnotic, and unmistakably human despite its machine architecture.
This collection brings together some of Atkins’ most essential work with tracks like "Sunlight", "Flash Flood", fan favourite "Game One", and the deep dub of the Moritz von Oswald remix of "Think Quick". Alongside Infiniti's Skynet reissue, a significant part of the Infiniti catalogue now lives in Tresor
catalogue, forming the ultimate archive.
The Infiniti Collection will be available from 30th October on triple vinyl and digitally with a cassette version being available exclusively through Tresor.
Shape of the Unknown’ is kind of a double LP that fully embraces the idea of exploration. It is CHLOÉ’s most expansive and immersive work to date. ‘Shape of the Unknown’ is CHLOÉ’s fourth proper studio album. Its predecessor, ‘Endless Revisions’, was released in 2017. Nine years have passed. Nine years during which CHLOÉ has continued digging for music, DJing at internationally renowned clubs and festivals including Rex Club, Robert Johnson, Panorama Bar, Nuits Sonores, Glastonbury and many more, releasing EPs and remixes, while also allowing herself the time to explore entirely new creative paths.
The challenge is to capture the unknown, make it her own, endlessly reshape its textures, and ultimately preserve its mystery.
The first single ‘Drifter’, released back in June, already offered a striking glimpse of the sonic territories the album would venture into, driven by its hypnotically contoured basslines. The album's two other singles offer different windows into her world. 'Shapeshifter' captures CHLOÉ at her most hypnotic, balancing stripped-back techno and melodic house through deep rolling grooves, expansive bass chords and subtle rhythmic shifts that constantly reshape the listener's perception without ever disrupting the flow. Later, 'Repeating The Obvious' takes a more leftfield route, pairing staggered rhythms with retro-inspired harmonics and an understated indie dance pulse that feels simultaneously familiar and unpredictable.
CHLOÉ has ventured into live performance through new formats, notably alongside percussionist Vassilena Serafimova; immersed herself in film scoring with soundtracks for Paris la Blanche, Arthur Rambo, The Mountain, Blanquita, Guru and Unsubmissives; and developed compelling collaborations, from High Season, her project with Ben Shemie of Canadian band Suuns (which resulted in the album The Call), to her own organic, experimental audiovisual performances under the name Slo/Mo AV.
Throughout Shape of the Unknown, CHLOÉ blurs the boundaries between deep house, hypnotic techno, electronica and cinematic sound design with remarkable fluidity. The album unfolds as a continuous narrative rather than a sequence of tracks, moving effortlessly between beatless ambient passages, rolling analogue grooves and emotionally charged club music. Organic percussion, sweeping bass movements, melancholic harmonies and richly textured synthesisers create a body of work that constantly evolves, where no section feels static and every transition reveals another layer of depth. There is an unmistakable warmth running through the record, with grainy analogue textures and spacious production giving even its most driving moments an intimate, almost tactile quality.
The album’s title is no coincidence. It evokes a form that has yet to be named, something language itself struggles to grasp. CHLOÉ approaches it through an organic creative process. Each piece must first be performed in the studio, almost as if it were being played live. The album will be followed by a series of live performances and DJ sets, including a show at the Olympia on March 18, 2027.
She is joined by a handful of steadfast collaborators. Jazz trumpeter David Enhco appears on two tracks, ‘Undertow’ and ‘Inner Bass’. But above all, there are the voices: Ben Shemie lends his unmistakable presence to the radiant ‘More Than Just a Feeling’. Olivia Merilahti, singer, songwriter and one half of The Dø, appears on the otherworldly ‘TWYR’. Working with Olivia’s already hypnotic voice, CHLOÉ has approached it like a sculptor, enhancing its strangeness and dreamlike quality.
And finally, impossible to miss is the instantly recognizable voice of Kittin. A longtime accomplice, she lends her distinctive phrasing to CHLOÉ’s music here for the very first time. The strongest collaborations are often those that take their time, arriving only when the moment is right. Same kind, same bass, same vibe, same pride.
The result is an enigmatic, nocturnal record, drifting between introspective listening and dancefloor functionality, revealing an artist who remains far more interested in atmosphere, movement and emotional storytelling than conventional club structures. It is an album that invites us to dream more deeply and to dance again, both within ourselves and out in the open.
“Neither from here nor from there” is often used to describe migrant identities in territorial terms. In the case of Siete Catorce, it works better temporally: his music has always been so far ahead of its moment that it ultimately carved out a space of its own within both Latin American and global electronic music.
Born in Mexicali and shaped between the Bay Area and northern Mexico, his musical identity emerged through hip hop, dubstep, and the independent borderland scenes. After several years in Mexico City — without a clear place inside the local circuit — he created his own space through his music, developing a distinctive DJ/live set and a singular vision of contemporary Mexican electronic music, becoming a key figure within the city’s most forward-thinking underground.
In 2026, he releases El Valle, his first album in nearly three years. The record moves through different currents of electronic music — ambient, techno, cumbia, and tribal — filtered through a unique rhythmic language marked by syncopation, unpredictable breaks, and a constant tension between restraint and energy.
The album opens with “Mexicali,” alongside Andre Pereda, a tribal track stripped down to its percussive essence, evoking the genre through an ambient and synthetic approach. From there, “Aragón” and “El Rancho” progressively increase the tempo and intensity, combining cadenced phrases with minimalist tribal beats and unexpected turns.
In the second half of the album, now moving through territories of 140 BPM and beyond, tracks like “Montecarlo 1” and “Tierra Roja” drift between futuristic bass music and large-scale techno structures. This is followed by the 8-minute epic “East LA,” where Siete Catorce expands the energy of syncopated techno before releasing it into a pre-Hispanic tribal journey with flute and all the drums required for the occasion.
The closing section arrives with “Tlatelolco,” accelerating into an epic cumbia infused with trance references, and “Los Pinos,” a direct and forceful finale sustained by some of the album’s most precise sound design.
More than genres, Siete Catorce’s work is defined by meticulous sound design and an exceptional rhythmic sensibility — qualities that have established him as one of the most respected drum programmers of his generation.
Forty years of cassette releases, pressed for the first time on vinyl
First of two instalments exploring the previously unreleased sonic archives of one of Poland’s most enigmatic
living artists - with its first volume focused on his deep listening practice and spiritual reverie (recorded 1990–2013)
The last time Andrzej Dudek-Dürer took a banknote bearing the face of the Polish anarchist Jarosław Dąbrowski from his pocket to trade it for a pair of shoes was in 1969. He bought them for 120zł - the equivalent of 100€ today - and never replaced them since then. Only rebuilt them, year after year, drawing a needle and thread through the leather each time it split, closing one wound before the next one opened. It became a ritual of precision, stitching a record of another year into their soles.
That same year, in Wrocław, he arrived at a conclusion that would recalibrate everything that followed. Convinced he was the reincarnation of Albrecht Dürer, he adopted the surname Dudek-Dürer, stopped cutting his hair and began wearing the same garments every day. It was the first ritual of many, though he wouldn't have called it that yet. Look closely enough, over the decades, and it is always the same gesture, returning in different material: hair growing in a single unbroken strand, a needle drawing thread through leather, sitar strings pulled taut across a neck he built with his own hands and magnetic tape spooling forward inside the cassette boxes stacked against his walls.
None of this began in a vacuum. Dudek-Dürer emerged from the Wrocław neo-avant-garde, in a Polish art world where an exhibition could be cancelled overnight by the stroke of a censor's pen. In 1973, his exhibition Auto-crucifixion was shut down by the state, and for a time he found himself blocked from exhibiting his own art at all - the one force in his life that ever came close to cutting the thread.
He seemed to experience it differently. In 1974, after long, patient research into sitar craftsmanship, he built his first prototype with his brother, a knowledgeable luthier. In 1978, in a smoked-out jazz club, he took his first steps into sound recording with the unreleased album Jazz From Underground with his first band. By 1979, recognition started to travel further than he could.
Turning toward Far-Eastern philosophy, meditation and the idea of reincarnation was another language of freedom for him. It was a way of claiming an inner territory the state could not reach, a border it could not close. Mail Art served a parallel function, reaching further out: in a country that restricted travel and expression, sending and receiving art through the postal system became an act of quiet rebellion.
The body, in his understanding, is only an envelope readied for constant transformation. From this came Metaphysical Telepathy: during the years he could not leave Poland, he treated that confinement as a rehearsal room, sending his mind out ahead on the same thread his body would later follow. Living Sculpture grew from the same root with performances of stillness beside static art objects, until the boundary between the object and the man beside it simply dissolved. Camera Meditation extended the same instinct into photography: a shutter click flattening three dimensions into two so that a single instant could be held forever. Inspired by the pioneers of self-portrait photography like Robert Cornelius, he used it to document time itself, and kept explaining to me: "You know. This is not about vanity. This is about observing time passing.”
The isolation did not end suddenly. It ended the way his own philosophy had already predicted it would, from the inside first. Mail Art quietly solved the problem politics couldn't. Correspondence built during years of confinement slowly worked its way through doors the state itself had kept locked. Contacts made through folded paper and stamps became invitations. Ultimately, invitations became passports.
In 1983 he made his first trip outside Poland, to Germany, in search of the audio technology he couldn’t get his hands on before. In 1985, he was invited by the Indian embassy in Poland to give a sitar concert on an instrument he had spent a decade patiently stringing together - half sitar, half tanpura, built from patience and determination. After the collapse of the People's Republic of Poland, the travels kept unspooling: South Korea, then Mexico, then Australia, Canada, New Zealand, Singapore, Japan and the United States - each stop leaving behind its own small knot of tape, tied off and carried home.
In the decades since, recognition arrived at the same unhurried pace: he conducted workshops at UC Berkeley, served as vice-president for artistic affairs of the Union of Polish Art Photographers and the Union of Polish Visual Artists between 2010 and 2014 and received the Bronze Medal for Merit to Culture - Gloria Artis. His visual work gradually entered collections including the National Museums of Warsaw, the Stedelijk Museum, Tate Modern, MoMA and the Venice Biennale. His musical practice, by contrast, never found that kind of room - left to circulate quietly, sharing his cassette tapes directly, waiting for someone willing to follow it further.
It took months before I could find a way to reach Andrzej Dudek-Dürer - his presence online is very close to nonexistent. Surprisingly, LinkedIn turned out to be the only door still open, a faintly absurd irony given everything else about him. I packed the strict minimum for a three-day trip and an empty notebook and made my way to Wrocław. His headquarters sits in the neighbourhood of Grabyszyn: a two-storey pre-war house that has belonged to his family for generations. The man who opened the door was long-haired, long-bearded, in his trademark leather shoes and patched jeans. We sat in his living room, in front of a computer where decades of recordings sat organised in cryptically named files, surrounded by books and objects that had arrived one layer at a time, leaving room for only two chairs in the middle. His shoes sat by the door, rebuilt so many times they had become their own quiet sculpture. Cassette tapes filled boxes against the walls, almost unlabelled, each one a spool of thread holding decades of sound that had never once been asked for, until now.
I listened for hours: meditating in front of strangers on the porch of a Seoul temple until the tourists stopped taking photos and simply waited with him; a stand-off with border guards at the US–Mexico crossing over an instrument they couldn't identify and didn't trust; a session with the Stockhausen family that he still, decades later, describes like it happened last week. All of it interrupted, occasionally, by the smell of soup boiling and fresh bread warming on the ceramic stove. After two days, it felt like being handed the end of a very long thread and asked, gently, to keep following it. I left with a USB drive holding his full discography, signed with his unmistakable signature.
Astral Meditations From A Living Statue is a length of that thread, drawn out from the boxes stacked against his walls - recordings gathered from different rooms, different countries, different decades. This first record breathes slowly: incense-thick, meditative, built for stillness. A cutting-edge séance in outer space where machines learn how to dream.
It begins with the neo-classical improvisations of Andrzej, space-delayed, recorded at Klub Muzyki i Literatury in Wrocław in 2002. 'When..So' opens the curtains with a deep-rooted meditation accompanied by slow-decaying piano figures illuminated by a candle-lit spirit gathering.
Los Angeles, 1990: a dormant villa, a grand piano, the voice of Bonnie Barnett. 'Exception' is captured in a single room, in a single afternoon - voice and keys circling each other, neither one leading, until the silence between the notes starts to feel like the instrument.
'The Meta...' and 'Tired Of...', recorded at Studio Morandi in Ponte Nossa, Italy, in 1992, settle into a sitar drone built entirely from patience - overtones stacking and beating against each other, strung by a man who never once set foot in India. 'Mastery Of...' follows, recorded the same year at Studio Suski in Łomianki, pushing that same hum further still, until pitch dissolves into a spectral reverie. 'Transcendental Sound', from 2000, closes the first record in a slow bath of celestial frequency - better heard beside the shores of the Odra river.
More than fifty years after deciding that a life could become an artwork, Andrzej Dudek-Dürer continues to inhabit that decision. His shoes keep wearing thin against the earth's crust. His hair keeps growing, one strand at a time. His cassette tapes keep spooling in the dark of their boxes.
Now the thread finds its last shape: a single unbroken groove, spiralling inward from the outer edge to the label at the centre. Never cut - the way nothing else in his life ever was. Drop the needle and it will find that groove and follow it, the same way a needle once followed leather, once followed a border it couldn't cross, once followed string into an instrument that didn't exist until he built it. This record is the other end of a thread that has been travelling for fifty years. For the length of both sides, it rests here, in your hands. This is a timeless proof that the Lord of the New Age was never lost."
,Manifold of Partially Actualized Realities" ist das neue Album bei Kou Records von Randall Dunn - Produzent, Komponist und einer der markantesten Gestalter von Low-End- und räumlichen Klängen in der zeitgenössischen Musik, bekannt für seine Arbeit mit Sunn O))), Oneohtrix Point Never, David Torn und unzähligen anderen aus den Bereichen Heavy-, Experimental- und Avantgarde-Musik. Das Album ist eine Meditation über zerbrochene Realitäten, Zeit und Sterblichkeit - ein Spiegel, der sich auf sich selbst zurückfaltet und darüber, wie zukünftige Ereignisse die Vergangenheit beeinflussen. Sein tragender Geist ist Philip K. Dicks ,Pink Light Experience" von 1974, in der der Autor berichtete, eine Übertragung von einer gewaltigen, außerirdischen Intelligenz empfangen zu haben: informationsreich, uralt und überwältigend. Dunn nähert sich dem sowohl als Konzept als auch als kompositorische Logik - Musik, die in Schichten auftaucht, zusammenbricht, sich neu formiert und sich einer Auflösung verweigert.? In vier Stücken setzt Dunn ein ganzes Arsenal an Vintage-Synthesizern ein - Korg MonoPoly, Korg MS-20, PPG Wave, CS-80, Juno-60, Waldorf Strings, Fizmo - neben einer außergewöhnlichen Ensemblebesetzung. Spoken-Word-Beiträge von Jim Jarmusch (basierend auf PKDs Prosa) und Laima Leyton (basierend auf Robert Graves' ,Time") verankern zwei der vier Stücke in Sprache, ohne sie zu erklären. Das Album bewegt sich von orchestraler Kammermusik über elektroakustische Abstraktion hin zu einem abschließenden Stück - ,Ayn" -, das sich zu ekstatischem Jazz entfaltet, mit Cyro Baptista, Briggan Krauss, Henry Fraser, Charmaine Lee und Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe. Wahre elektroakustische Komposition im vollsten Sinne: spektral, körperlich und weit offen. Produziert und gemischt von Randall Dunn bei Circular Ruin, April 2026. Aufgenommen und gemastert von Ben Greenberg. Dolby-Atmos-Mischungen von Ben Greenberg. Lackschnitt von Paul Gold bei Salt Mastering. Cover- und Rückseitengestaltung von Steve Rude.
This 1981 album marks the debut of the most revered and iconic figure in Peruvian chicha: Chacalón. His music combines fuzz- and wah-wah-drenched distorted electric guitars with tropical percussion and even elements of huayno. This passion for electric guitars also fueled his admiration for the British band Cream -- and, of course, Eric Clapton -- which ultimately inspired the name of his band: La Nueva Crema.
His songs speak to the working classes who migrated from rural areas to the major cities in search of better employment opportunities and portray the hardships they faced. The lyrics tell stories of heartbreak, drunken nights amid everyday struggles, and marginalization -- common experiences in the poorer communities of Peru. Chacalón became a cult figure among the most disadvantaged sectors of Peruvian society, a devotion that remains strong years after his death. The album is essential listening for anyone interested in psychedelic cumbia and the roots of Peruvian chicha. This reissue preserves the album's original artwork as it appeared on Discos Horóscopo and includes liner notes by genre expert Víctor Zela (La cumbia de mis viejos).
Houston’s premier street griot is stepping into his most profound chapter yet with his highly anticipated upcoming album, O.Y.N. Throughout a decorated career that spans over 1.2 billion global streams and a fiercely loyal fanbase, Maxo Kream—born Emekwane Ogugua Biosah, Jr.—has established himself as one of rap’s most authentic, uncompromising storytellers. From the raw trenches of Alief to the critically acclaimed triumphs of Punken, Brandon Banks, Weight of the World, and his triumphant 2024 independent pivot Personification, Maxo has long been celebrated by Pitchfork, NPR, and Complex for his cinematic, hyper-detailed world-building. Now, O.Y.N. finds the Houston icon turning his gaze inward, pairing his signature Texas grit with an expansive, global perspective that redefines his artistic boundaries.
If his previous work was about Maxo taking full creative control as an independent force, O.Y.N. is about him uncovering who he is at his core. Following the passing of his father, Maxo found himself searching deeper for his family origins, leading to a pivotal moment of artistic and personal rebirth. For the first time in his life, Maxo traveled to Lagos, Nigeria, anchoring his new music in a profound celebration of his Nigerian heritage. The emotional centerpiece of this journey is the JPEGMAFIA-produced single “Time Out,” an introspective track that moves away from the frantic energy of his past releases to offer a stripped-back look at love, loss, and legacy. Featuring a heavy, resonant drum presence on the outro, the song’s accompanying music video was filmed on location in Lagos, capturing Maxo navigating his ancestral roots in real-time.
While O.Y.N. reaches new emotional depths, it doesn't sacrifice the hard-hitting, volatile street persona that made Maxo a star. The album expertly balances soul-baring vulnerability with cutting-edge hip-hop experimentation, showcasing elite chemistry with some of the genre's most forward-thinking visionaries. Look no further than “Fake Jeezy,” a collaborative explosion featuring Denzel Curry and masterminded by JPEGMAFIA. The track is a masterclass in industrial chaos, combining sharp lyricism and early-2000s trap imagery with cold, surreal visual aesthetics. This duality highlights Maxo's unique positioning in the culture as a trusted street general who can effortlessly trade bars with rap's avant-garde elite.
From his early days flipping Kendrick Lamar's “Rigamortis” to sharing marquee tracks with the likes of A$AP Rocky, Travis Scott, and Tyler, The Creator on hits like “Big Persona,” “Cracc Era,” and “Cracc At 15,” Maxo Kream has always been a rapper's rapper. O.Y.N. represents the ultimate synthesis of this incredible journey. It is an album born from the soil of Alief but elevated by the spirit of Lagos—a raw, beautiful, and heavy-hitting testament to an artist who has survived his past, honored his losses, and fully embraced his destiny.
With »The Future Is Futuristic«, the fifth album for Haleiwa (and third with Morr Music), Stockholm’s Mikko Singh draws from a deep well of nostalgic feeling, while making music that feels razor-sharp, on point, and full of hazy dream-pop pleasure. After 2019’s »Cloud Formations« and 2022’s »Hallway Waverider«, which imagined psychedelic post-shoegaze and mantric pop songs into being, »The Future Is Futuristic« feels like both consolidation and magnification; the noise-drenched songs feel thicker, heftier; the electronic interludes playful and kinetic; the rhythms boundless. It’s as though Singh has truly found his metier, his voice, a place from which he’s comfortable to indulge in the kind of home-recorded worldmaking that has always marked Haleiwa out as something special.
»The Future Is Futuristic« passes by in a rush of whiteout tones and scurrilous energy; the whole thing is over within half an hour, Singh ensuring his songs say exactly what they need to say – no more, no less – before bustling through into the next ecstatic pop moment, pushing the music further into the zone. While his music often has a similar, drenched quality to shoegaze, on »The Future Is Futuristic«, Singh seems to be settling in alongside other spirits – there are touches of the experimentation of both A.R. Kane and Flying Saucer Attack here; the more motoric tunes recall New Zealand’s Snapper; the glitchtronics have a City Centre Offices sensibility, while the sparkling folksiness of the melodies can recall Bristol bands like Light or AMP.
But it’s ultimately not about influence, beyond perhaps Haleiwa nestling alongside some like-minded souls in perceptive listeners’ minds. Instead, thrill to the rush of rhythms that float between jungle and punk on »Flourishing« and »96«, the latter a reference, from Singh, to moments of early revelation – »it’s about being thankful for having found punk rock and skateboarding at a young age, in 1996.« There’s also the hypnotic dream-rush of the opening »Smoke Will Rise«, the beautiful Cure-esque guitars swimming through »Sunset Street« and »Strange Notes«, the tumbling rhythms and heady, elated chord changes that grant lift-off to »Wave Chaos«… A real panoply of pleasures, in fact.
»The Future Is Futuristic« was recorded solely by Singh on four- and eight-track in his home studio, with a quick trip to Telefonstudion to record drums. Recording at home grants a certain intimacy to »The Future Is Futuristic«, even as the songs, at times, bliss their way off into the skies; there’s something both expansive and intimate about the music here, as though Singh is grappling immensities into intimacies. It also feels deeply personal for Singh, a summation of much of what he’s done over the years; as he says, simply and clearly, »The album is in my interpretation a mix between punk, electronic music, and dream pop.« The threads that connect these creative phenomena? Energy, texture, melody, tone, sensuality; pure pop pleasure.
Asake’s fourth studio album, M$NEY, marks a major evolution in his career, trading the frantic energy of his early hits for a more polished, cinematic sound. The project explores the intersection of material wealth and divine favor, framing his global success as a spiritual journey. Rather than just celebrating the "soft life," Asake uses this record to reflect on the discipline and faith required to maintain his position at the top of the music world.
Sonically, the album expands his signature Fuji-fusion and Amapiano roots with help from long-time collaborator Magicsticks and international producers like DJ Snake. Tracks like "Worship" bring high-octane electronic energy, while "Badman Gangsta" featuring Tiakola offers a sleek, R&B-influenced collaboration. Throughout the project, Asake balances these high-energy moments with orchestral strings and jazz elements, creating a rich, textured listening experience that feels both global and deeply rooted in Lagos street culture.
At its heart, M$NEY is a balance of celebration and introspection. In tracks like "Forgiveness" and "Gratitude," Asake addresses the pressures of fame and the personal growth he has undergone since his debut. He remains grounded in his Yoruba heritage, blending boastful lyrics with sincere thanks for his trajectory. Ultimately, M$NEY proves that Asake is more than a hit-maker; he is a visionary artist documenting his life and legacy with newfound maturity and style.
Lex Walton (née Alex) is an American songwriter, actress, prose poet, and filmmaker whose work is unflinchingly confessional, and whose live performances are filled with ecstatic masochism and flailing. In addition to her catalog of a dozen or so mostly home-recorded albums, EPs, and singles, she has recorded collaborations with Devi McCallion (Black Dresses, Girls Rituals), Geese, and Ezra Furman, written the pop music manifesto The Sound Rocker's Prayer, and starred in Louise Weard's five-hour epic film Castration Movie Anthology II: The Best Of Both Worlds.
ULTIMATE LOVE FOREVER is Lex’s unwavering, iconoclastic Sub Pop debut. Some of the tracks already have fans and the music press heated up, so we’ll let the critics do the talking! PASTE: “Walton’s wiggly, anxious power pop wades through pages of dead links and forum threads to get to its incendiary hooks... anachronistic collage of Edwardian portrait artists, country greats, and noise rock heroes… a roadside altar… with its lo-fi hissing and tongue-twisting one-liners.” The Quietus: "For fans of early Jonathan Richman, NYC gutter punks Dollhouse, or staring at the fluorescent lights of the Walgreens ceiling on your third day withdrawing from psych meds, barely able to parse the words ‘Medicaid coverage has lapsed’ as a pharmacist misgenders you. And also, later Jonathan Richman."
ULTIMATE LOVE FOREVER was written by Lex Walton, produced by Lex and Dan Boeckner, recorded, mixed, and mastered by Ben Greenberg at Thump and Circular Ruin in Williamsburg, with assistant engineer Alice Cohen. ULTIMATE LOVE FOREVER features appearances from Boeckner (Wolf Parade, Handsome Furs), Emerson Borakove, Alice Cohen, Brendan Dunphy, Emily Green (Geese), Greenberg (Uniform, The Men), Scotty Malcolm, Sarah Neufeld (Arcade Fire), and Sam Revaz (Geese).
Chris Liebing's collaboration with Daniel Miller, Pascal 'Stubbleman' Gabriel and Terence Fixmer, aka The Alte Stuben Modular Ensemble, 'Entangled Circuits', has been remixed by Hayden Payne, better known as Phase Fatale. Originally released on Chris Liebing's 'Evolver' LP earlier this year, the remix will be released via CLR 20th November 2026. The original track is a collaboration between Liebing and The Alte Stuben Modular Ensemble made up of Mute founder Daniel Miller, Pascal 'Stubbleman' Gabriel and Terence Fixmer. New York-born, Berlin-based Phase Fatale has held residencies at Berghain, Brooklyn's Merge and Tbilisi's KHIDI, and has built a catalogue across Ostgut Ton, Dekmantel, Jealous God and his own BITE imprint, carrying a lineage that runs from New York's cold-wave underground through to the sharper industrial edges of Berlin's club circuit.
Phase Fatale rebuilds 'Entangled Circuits' around a hypnotic bassline, pitching the original's synth stabs up a notch.
Weighted kick drums, relentless repetition, and industrial texture anchor the rework in techno mastery, delivering a peak-time weapon without loosening its grip on the source material.
The original version of 'Entangled Circuits' appears on 'Evolver', Liebing's first solo techno LP, released 27th March 2026 on CLR. 'Entangled Circuits' was composed on a skiing trip to Oberlech, Austria with The Alte Stuben Modular Ensemble, Mute founder Daniel Miller, Pascal 'Stubbleman' Gabriel and Terence Fixmer, blending dark, modular synth textures with driving rhythmic sequencing. Marking a distillation of over three decades at Techno's core, the album pairs introspective depth with immediate, floor-driven impact, bringing together contributions from the likes of Luke Slater, Charlotte de Witte, Speedy J and The Advent, while ultimately remaining rooted in Liebing's singular vision.
What's Left is the new album by Tom Henry, releasing November 20th, 2026 on Royal Oakie Records. Where his debut album Songs to Sing and Dance To leaned into big dreams, What's Left is a record about what remains once the dust settles, delivered with the wit and charm of a young rocker in his prime. The familiar influences are still there — Paul McCartney and Big Star loom large (though there's a little more Third/Sister Lovers this time around), but now the songs are lush and polished, with new sounds creeping in around Henry’s trademark power pop hooks. On a handful of tracks you can even hear strains of Syd Barrett influenced acid-folk alongside psychedelic rock that recalls The Brian Jonestown Massacre or The Beatles at their most lysergic.
Produced in collaboration with David Glasebrook (Patti Smith, Peter Case, Sugar Candy Mountain), and engineered by Glasebrook and Stephen Shirk, the album was tracked across two cities at Shirk Studios in Chicago, IL and The Garden Shed in Oakland, CA, where Glasebrook also handled mixing and mastering. The record's cross-continental origins reflect the movements of Tom’s own life over the past half decade, which found him departing his native Chicago for Los Angeles before returning home four years later, and lend the album its distinctive sound of Midwestern grit mixed with California sunshine across all twelve tracks.
Opener "Someone I Need" sets the tone: an old-fashioned, up-beat rocker built for a roadside diner jukebox somewhere out along the backroads of your mind — it's crunchy tape tones and horn arrangement lending warmth to the song as the narrator asks for a dance and beckons the listener along for the ride. By "It's Not Meant to Be," the record turns inward, wrestling with the exhaustion of trying to find love in the modern age — especially for someone who wears their heart on their sleeve and often comes to find their suitor's wardrobe doesn't have room. "Silverlake Song," reminiscent of early Donovan, kicks off with otherworldly sitar — a wry postcard from the west, tracing how the shimmering promise of L.A.'s Silver Lake enchants, bargains with, and ultimately tries to ruin the starry-eyed dreamer — and very nearly succeeds.
In addition to Tom–who sang and played guitar, bass, and keys–the album features musical contributions from co-producer David Glasebrook, Brian Daley, Joe Daley, Finn Swingley, Lewis Patzner, and labelmates Graham Patzner, Charles Lloyd, and Simon Beins. Liner notes come courtesy of Ian F. Svenonius, who — in the guise of one Johnny Sincere of Integrated Star Management Ltd. — recounts his company's failed attempt to sell Tom Henry a gimmick: a space suit, a coal miner's neckerchief, a lounge pianist's dead-eyed shades. Tom turned them all down. As Svenonius tells it, when reminded that every story's been told and every gimmick's been used, that all that's left is to admire the photographs of what's gone before, Tom simply shrugged: rock 'n' roll is an eternal spring, and if this is what's left, that's just fine with him — it's what he likes to do.
Soak’s fourth album, decembers, was born in literal silence. Contending with an autoimmune disease that prevented them from singing, it was the absence of sound that birthed the Derry artist’s most sonically and lyrically remarkable album to date.
The space that expanded from that enforced quiet, and the life lived within it - transitionary, liminal, escaping in search of connection - cracked something open. What floods in, is an album of stunning tenderness, honesty, and astonishing storytelling from an artist discovering the revelations at the end of the line.
In decembers, we travel on the road through America, walk the frost-glistened paths of Dublin at night, search for a meteor in Portugal, and return home to Derry. Everywhere, here is an artist evolving, exploring, releasing themselves, coming undone, and eventually, becoming.
At the core of the album is this lyrical statement: “Getting lost is getting free.” How brave it is to face the unknown. Because when you really go there, that’s where discovery lies. That discovery in decembers is a creative one, but it’s also about connection to people and place, to forgiveness, and ultimately to prioritising honesty. “A consistent theme is struggling for direction, battling the urge to run,” Soak says, “and instead, planting my feet.”
Soak’s fourth album, decembers, was born in literal silence. Contending with an autoimmune disease that prevented them from singing, it was the absence of sound that birthed the Derry artist’s most sonically and lyrically remarkable album to date.
The space that expanded from that enforced quiet, and the life lived within it - transitionary, liminal, escaping in search of connection - cracked something open. What floods in, is an album of stunning tenderness, honesty, and astonishing storytelling from an artist discovering the revelations at the end of the line.
In decembers, we travel on the road through America, walk the frost-glistened paths of Dublin at night, search for a meteor in Portugal, and return home to Derry. Everywhere, here is an artist evolving, exploring, releasing themselves, coming undone, and eventually, becoming.
At the core of the album is this lyrical statement: “Getting lost is getting free.” How brave it is to face the unknown. Because when you really go there, that’s where discovery lies. That discovery in decembers is a creative one, but it’s also about connection to people and place, to forgiveness, and ultimately to prioritising honesty. “A consistent theme is struggling for direction, battling the urge to run,” Soak says, “and instead, planting my feet.”
Victoryland is the Brooklyn-based project of musician Julian McCamman and Dan Howard.. Their 2026 album, My Heart Is A Room With No Cameras In It, is a triumphant, despondent, and ultimately fun experimental pop-rock album. A year on, the record receives the deluxe treatment from new label home Dead Oceans. My Heart Is A Room With No Cameras In It (Deluxe) arrives December
11th 2026, on exclusive crystal clear vinyl, complete with new song “The Ugliest Girl On The Beach” and a new music video for album standout “I got god.” The sound of the album, recorded between Julian’s Bed-Stuy basement and Dan’s Williamsburg studio, is that of a bright and beaming collaboration. Blending lo-fi and hi-fi production, the songs have the glossiness of a radio-friendly hit mixed with the distortion and rough edges of a home demo. Every song keeps at least one element of the initial recording, while building around the loops and half-songs Julian scraped together. The lyrics on the record span from humorous self-aware popisms (“‘you and I’ will soon be, used to be ‘us’”) to crushing realities of bitterness (“i’ll never forgive you, that’s how I keep you close”) and abstract imagery (“mothers wave from doorways, in ostinato”), all delivered with such an immediacy and fervor that in the middle of singing along, you wonder if this guy slept much last night. Much to their surprise, My Heart’s release ushered Victoryland into a whirlwind of a year. Pitchfork praised the album’s “bright, madcap approach reminiscent of the New Pornographers’ Twin Cinema or Clap Your Hands Say Yeah’s Some Loud Thunder.” Stereogum named it their Album of the Week and proclaimed it “a surprisingly cohesive scrapbook of sounds from seemingly every corner of the indie pop umbrella.” The album also received support from Steve Lamacq at BBC 6 Music and Sian Eleri at Radio 1. After a string of sold-out shows in NYC, Victoryland later joined LCD Soundsystem on their North American tour and performed at Pitchfork London, Pitchfork Paris, among other festivals across Europe
Nippon Psychedelic Soul 1970-1979 is Time Capsule’s continuation of the deep dive into Japan’s rich history of folk and psychedelic soul music.
Vinyl LP with 4 page insert, original artwork and photos
The kaleidoscopic psychedelia of 1970s Japan captured a fragile and fertile moment as the country sought its future in funk grooves, heavy reverb and lyrical hallucinations.
The follow-up compilation to Time Capsule’s Nippon Acid Folk, Nippon Psychedelic Soul takes myriad pathways into the tripped-out undergrowth of 1970s Japan. Finding their feet at home and looking for inspiration abroad, the musicians featured here were engaged in the communal soul-searching that followed the breakdown of the 1960s protest movements. Some made it big, others drifted into oblivion. The music they left behind shimmers with intensity.
At the core was Happy End, the first project of YMO’s Haroumi Hosono, whose distortion-heavy guitar and crisp back-beat laid the foundations for Japanese lyrics that flipped the paradigm of Japanese rock music on its head. With it came a new found sonic ambition, such as in the bold Philly-soul style arrangements of producer Yuji Ohno, whose work with occult wandered Yoshiko Sai shares some of the bittersweet grandeur of Rotary Connection or David Axelrod.
Then there was Jun Fukamachi, a pioneer of Japanese synthesis, whose debut album was a carnival of orchestral funk, euphoric horn lines and rich production, complete with soaring guitar solos, psychedelic organ and a truly cinematic finale. The first and only time Fukamachi would sing on record, ‘Omae’ rips like the ultimate end-of-nighter.
Influenced by giants of the US soul scene, maverick composer Hiroshi “Monsieur” Kamayatsu (otherwise known as ‘the Brian Wilson of Japan’) went one step further, enlisting Tower of Power to play on ‘Have You Smoked Gauloises?’ The B-side to Monsieur’s biggest-selling single, it coasts with sophisticated cool - a liquid bassline and suave keys comping under a roaring trademark ToP sax solo. No surprise it found favour once more on the Acid Jazz dance floors of ‘90s London.
Such was the spirit of experimentation that big studio productions and private press releases sat side-by-side, with the likes of Momotaro Pink and Kazushi Inamura, taking their hopes of success into their own hands with the resources available to them. More reflective but no less robust, theirs was a heavy, fat-backed drum sound, soaked in dramatic, soulful psychedelia.
If some were dreamers and others space cadets, none were further out than sci-fi writer, musician, activist and self-made scientist Tadashi Goino, who transformed his own fantasy novel Messenger from the Seventh Dimension into an operatic prog odyssey with few discernible musical reference points – a majestic and completely bonkers outlier even among company as strange and brilliant as that which is collected here.
Less a compilation of a scene, as a compilation of a sentiment, Nippon Psychedelic Soul is a wild ride from start to finish, shattering the narratives of the Japanese folk and rock tradition into a million tiny pieces.
In the rapidly shifting tectonic plates of the global Afrobeats scene, few arrivals have been as seismic as that of Ahmed Ololade—better known to the world as Asake. With his breakout project Mr. Money With The Vibe, the artist didn’t merely debut; he effectively recalibrated the tempo of the Nigerian pop soundscape. The EP functions as a masterclass in synthesis, pulling from the ornate, percussive history of Fuji music and grafting it onto the driving, bass-heavy architectures of contemporary Amapiano. It is a calculated, deeply rhythmic hybridization that manages to feel both nostalgic and jarringly modern.
From a critical vantage point, Mr. Money With The Vibe is defined by its brevity and density. Asake treats each track as a focused vignette, utilizing a vocal delivery that oscillates between a melodic, almost liturgical chant and the staccato urgency of a Lagos street orator. The production—characterized by sharp, frenetic percussion and deceptively simple melodic loops—creates a high-intensity atmosphere that mirrors the relentless pace of urban life. He avoids the pitfall of bloated experimentation; instead, he doubles down on a "street-pop" ethos, prioritizing accessibility without sacrificing the complex rhythmic interplay that gives the genre its distinctive texture.
Ultimately, Mr. Money With The Vibe stands as a pivotal document of the current era, capturing the transition of Afrobeats from a regional powerhouse to a dominant global force. By blending the aspirational "hustle culture" narrative with an increasingly sophisticated sonic palette, Asake established a blueprint that has since influenced a new wave of artists. The project is a testament to the idea that authenticity, when paired with relentless precision, remains the most effective currency in contemporary music.
The ultimate soundtrack of the summer is here: Mixatissimo, a 10-track vinyl-only mixed dance compilation bridging nostalgic ’80s sunshine vibes with modern Italo and indie-dance energy.
In Italy, during the 1980s, there was an absolute ritual that marked the beginning of summer: the release of those mixed dance compilations with glittering, futuristic covers. They weren’t just records; they were the very definition of sun, sea and tan lines. It was precisely holding one of those vinyls in his hands – the first one he ever bought – that sparked the musical passion of Italian DJ and producer Hey Cabrera!
Today, that perfect circle closes with Mixatissimo, a project that takes that nostalgic inspiration and transports it straight into the modern era.
Released as an exclusive vinyl-only edition by Universo Segundo and powered by Bordello A Parigi, the compilation packs 10 bangers oscillating between modern Italo, indie-dance and electronics, featuring some of the hottest names on the contemporary scene.
Exclusive special edits have been crafted for every single track, locking the groove into a fixed BPM for each side: 122 BPM on Side A and 125 BPM on Side B. Thanks to smooth transitions featuring drums-only sections, the record flows as a continuous stream for the listener, while simultaneously serving as the perfect tool for DJs who want to mix the individual tracks.
A meticulously calibrated selection, designed as much to make the dancefloor explode late at night as to keep the rhythm high in the most sophisticated listening bars.
The soundtrack to your summer is ready.
What are you waiting for?
A counterculture movement united by an expansive, experimental and deeply soulful sensibility, Japan’s rebel protest music challenged the status quo and changed the country’s music industry in the process.
The birth of Japan’s nascent acid folk scene was rooted in the messy and invigorating political climate of the late 1960s. It is a story of Dadaists, communists, pharmacists and cult leaders, led by a young generation of upstart students, artists and dreamers hellbent on turning their world upside down.
Born on the campuses of Tokyo, Kyoto and Osaka, and centred around newly formed independent label and left-wing stronghold URC, this uniquely Japanese form of folk expression provided an outlet for musicians who were tired of aping Western sounds and instead found ways to sing in Japanese and integrate traditional forms in new ways.
At the forefront of this movement was Yellow Magic Orchestra’s Haroumi Hosono, a polymath innovator whose band Happy End released the first Japanese language rock album, and whose influence would go on to be felt across Japanese music for decades. Alongside, and informed by the Kansai scene’s Takashi Nishioka and Happy End collaborator Ken Narita, they experimented with cadences and accents of the Japanese language to open the door for others to experiment with their own forms of psychedelic folk too.
Some, like Nishioka, were more inspired by Dadaism than drugs, while others, like Kazuhisa Okubo, would ultimately find work as a chemist, having founded two further folk groups that flirted with varying levels of success. Obstinately uncommercial, relentlessly creative, the music featured on Time Capsule’s Nippon Acid Folk represents a broad church of influences.
Perhaps the wildest addition to this congregation however was Hiroki Tamaki, a classically-trained violinist and committed iconoclast, whose synth-prog odysseys hinted at his obsession with the divine. Subsumed by the teachings of Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, he penned an album in praise of the infamous religious leader of which two superbly mind-bending tracks are featured on this compilation.
Charting the decade from 1970 to 1980 as the dreams of political and spiritual liberation seeded in the ‘60s turned to dust, Nippon Acid Folk surveys a little explored corner of Japanese music history, but one which ultimately laid the foundations for an independent music industry, launching the careers of Hosono and others in the process.
Nippon Acid Folk 1970-1980 is pressed on 12” vinyl and represents the start of Time Capsule’s deep dive into Japan’s rich history of folk and psychedelic soul music.
Brand new 4 tracker of crazy Swedish Techno from the ultimate mavericks, TSR.
NOBODY makes tunes that sound like them and they don’t sound like anybody else. Mainstays of the Don’t label having made a number of appearances over the years since their first in 2004!! Tonally it’s the perfect Followup to their 2010 Varldens Starkaste EP.
Pressed on VERY LIMITED blue vinyl. Just 150 copies exist and there’ll be no repress so now’s the time.
The free folk/jazz sound of modern Los Angeles. Featuring a heavy bunch of musicians and vocalists including Moor Mother.
"Fearlessly Accessing the Divine Spirit From Here on Out" is the vinyl debut from pianist, composer, and producer Diego Gaeta. He has previously released projects as Club Diego and with the trio Human Error Club (whose members Mekala Session and Jesse Justice helped produce this record). He has quickly become a fixture in a number of Los Angeles musical environments, working with Lionmilk, The Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra, Carlos Niño, Black Nile among others. This album is a synthesis of these many LA environments, and carries chamber, jazz, ambient, and folk influences, ultimately giving it an uncategorizable feel similar to works by Arthur Verocai or David Axelrod.
Gaeta recorded the initial ideas for the album by himself after experiencing a burst of creativity during the lockdown of 2020, in the aftermath of a season of protests in Los Angeles, on a piano at his home in El Sereno. "I was constantly not in tune with myself, always awaiting outrage and tragedy in a very unstable world. However, hitting the streets in support of various ongoing pandemic community actions felt necessary and it marked a point in time that ushered in large societal changes. The weight of that era made me feel allergic to making art at the time. All of these ideas came after that period, expressing my reflections subconsciously. I remember that the ideas came in a short amount of time, and then they developed."
Once he had created the tracks as Ableton sessions, he realized the gravity and context of how he was processing his ideas so he, as he puts it, "felt like taking them outside the hands of midi and into the hands of friends." Gaeta was able to assemble his dream band, which ended up being a 9-piece ensemble, or a nonet. "I felt that at some point I was channeling the geometrical balance of that nonet...it's almost as if I had a sextet and then the three of the sextet that's not the rhythm section were doubled. It's a really dense sextet, that's how I see it."
The recording process began the following summer in June 2021 as the musicians were all adjusting to the newfound dynamic of getting tested for COVID, waiting a few days, and then meeting up to record. "We were eating Indian food, some of us were smoking, it was a nice memory, but I felt a little stressed, because I was the bandleader, and I felt the emotional weight of my music."
The title track and single, featuring vocals by Jimetta Rose, begins with a speech by Gaeta delivered when playing with Black Nile in 2019 at the Levitt Amphitheatre in MacArthur park. Gaeta provides the following account: "Even though it was in 2019, socio-political tensions and issues were at the forefront for me at that time. I wrote a speech that was intended to be critical of the US but it ended up becoming a collage inspired by different women that had messages of freedom that spoke to me the most. I quoted Nina Simone and Georgia Anne Muldrow, it wasn't something that I read but something that she said "kicking it with consciousness and style" that phrase stuck with me, so I used it in that speech. Although critical, the speech had a positive feeling to it, and it was hopeful. I gave that speech while fireworks were going off."
Moor Mother & Zeroh are found on their respective tracks, Memory Screen & Eccolo - both delivering a distinct, commanding vocal performance. Low Leaf colors the track Soft Spot with harp, a beautiful ballad nestled in the center of the album. Other players include Gregory Uhlmann on guitar, Jon Kaye on violin, Devin Daniels on alto saxophone, Caleb Buchanan on bass, Dante Luna on vibraphone, Patrick Behnke on viola, Bryan Baker on tenor saxophone/flute, and Mekala Session on drums.
"I’d like for us tonight to embody a freedom oriented life. Freedom isn’t just a dream, it’s a place we must all arrive at together, as one by one the people of the Earth help each other to be Free of power, hate, and insecurities. Let’s kick it with consciousness and style. Can y’all dig that? YEAH. I can too. So now we’d like to present to you a spiritual transmission I like to call: 'Fearlessly Accessing the Divine Spirit of Freedom From Here On Out.' YEAH" - Diego Gaeta
'Electronic lullabies and folk songs from Ethiopia! A landmark recording from Ethiopia’s vibrant cassette era of the 1980s, Resonance of Time features pioneering composer Wesenyeleh Mebreku reimagining Ethiopian folk melodies through the humble circuitry of an early Casiotone keyboard.
'Historically, the works featured on Resonance of Time (የጊዜ ቃና Yegizie Kana) stand as quiet documents of Ethiopian musical memory. Many of the original songs included in this release emerged during important moments in Ethiopian history when music carried the collective emotion of the nation - love, loss, resistance, dignity, and hope. By arranging these pieces from Ethiopia’s musical heritage instrumentally, Wesenyeleh Mebreku aimed to preserve their essence while protecting them from being confined to a single era or performance style. In doing so, his preservation of Ethiopia’s musical heritage became a contribution to his country’s musical legacy itself, as Resonance of Time serves as an important musical milestone of this composer’s innovative recordings and musical developments in the prolific era of Ethiopia’s 1980s cassette tape culture.
'On Resonance of Time, Wesenyeleh made use of the first Casio electronic keyboard - the Casiotone CT-201 - to arrange and perform Ethiopian folk songs in his own unique style. Implementing the soulful, lo-fi character of the keyboard, Wesenyeleh’s interpretations of these works take on a life of their own. Charming analog tones interpret swirling sounds of organ and piano in kignit modality to the beat of a nostalgic rhythm machine while twinkling synthesizer sounds carry the melodies drifting out of time. The recordings reflect a watershed moment in Ethiopian musical history - when traditional melodies started being interpreted on electronic keyboards, and the advent of cassette tape recording allowed for music to be transmitted more accessibly than centuries-old oral traditions. During this time, Ethiopian musical modes were syncretized with new technology and budding musical experimentation, and Wesenyeleh’s interpretations on Resonance of Time are a landmark recording of this era, following in the tradition of reflecting upon and re-interpreting historical Ethiopian music for a new generation.
'Featured on the release are timeless Amharic folk songs and lullabies, Tigrinya love songs, Gurage and Oromifa popular songs, and even works closely associated with performers from Ethiopia’s 1970s popular music era such as Tiz Alegne Yetintu (ትዝ አለኝ የጥንቱ) which was famously performed by Tilahun Gessesse. Each piece, thoughtfully chosen by Wesenyeleh, is beautifully transformed into instrumental music of his own style - allowing these worlds of song to echo into the future while they are synthesized with the electronic innovations of the 1980s and Wesenyeleh’s own musical history.
'Wesenyeleh says this about his musical approach - ”Instrumental music, for me, is a space of reflection. Without words, the listener is invited to remember, imagine, and feel freely. In Resonance of Time, I hear my own musical philosophy: respect for Ethiopian kignit, careful dialogue with Western harmony, and a deep trust in melody as a storyteller.”
'Each piece performed on Resonance of Time speaks to a time when Ethiopian music was shaped by oral transmission through live performance and communal listening. In today’s fast-moving musical environment, revisiting these works is an act of cultural responsibility. These works remind us that melody once traveled slowly, settling deeply in the listener’s heart. The instrumental format allows these works to cross linguistic and generational boundaries, making them accessible to audiences who may not know the original lyrics but can still feel their spirit.
'Resonance of Time also reflects a broader historical dialogue: the meeting of tradition and adaptation. Ethiopian music has always evolved while holding onto its core identity. These arrangements affirm that evolution does not mean abandonment. Instead, it can be a form of safeguarding - ensuring that the musical wisdom of the past continues to resonate in the present and inspire the future.
'In this sense, the album is both personal and collective. It carries Wesenyeleh Mebreku’s own musical fingerprint, shaped by decades of practice, but it ultimately belongs to a wider cultural continuum. It is the artist’s contribution to keeping time audible so that memory, history, and sound may continue to speak to one another.'
Still compelled by the space they first opened, Gūsū returns with a second release, “Inhabiting Me”. What began as a shared approach, sprouted from intuition, has grown denser and more defined, holding on to that same fragility and openness. The duo continues to befriend with contrast, friction and proximity, shaping a language that inhabits their uncommon ground.
Vintage drum machines, tape delays and bass guitar widen the sonic ground, adding pulse, grain and instability, while the guzheng holds its place in full clarity. Each sound source becomes each other’s ornament, forming to gesture the next currents.
What emerges is less a fixed composition than a shifting form: precise in detail, impossible to contain. Listeners who have experienced Gūsū’s live performances will recognise this rare quality: a music of great sensitivity that expands with quiet force, drawing them inward rather than confronting them directly. The sound fades, re-enters, and leaves behind the trace of a lighthearted heaviness, echoing back in fragments, reappearing in memory with altered weight and colour.
Time bends inward and tones return altered. Between repetition and resonance, a tensile form begins to emerge. Neither nostalgic nor futuristic, neither static nor loose. Gūsū does not merge its materials into one smooth surface; it lets them stand close enough to sharpen one another.
Gūsū is a transcultural music project born from the confluence of two distinct artistic voices: Xueyan Chen and Nicolas Balmer. Together, they create a complex dialogue of sound that bridges the ancient and the modern, exploring the liminal spaces between tradition and experimentation. Gūsū’s inception was serendipitous, sparked by a shared stage in late 2022. What began as spontaneous improvisations has since evolved into a profound collaboration. The duo has performed under various monikers, finding their ultimate identity in the name Gūsū, a nod to both heritage and transformation.
Madonna announced today her eagerly anticipated new album Confessions ll is set for release on July 3rd via Warner Records.
The new album is the continuation of the iconic counterpart Confessions on a Dance Floor. Ahead of the lead single, Madonna unveils the first taste of music with a trancelike visual teaser. Watch HERE. Fans can pre-order the album + the ultimate curation of expansive vinyl and CDs
Madonna sums up her new record best by quoting the first few lines of her song, One Step Away, “People think that dance music is superficial, but they’ve got it all wrong. The dance floor is not just a place, it’s a threshold: A ritualistic space where movement replaces language.”
Madonna adds “When Stuart Price and I first started working on this record, this was our manifesto”:
We must dance, celebrate, and pray with our bodies. These are things that we've been doing for thousands of years — they really are spiritual practices. After all, the dance floor is a ritualistic space. It’s a place where you connect
—with your wounds, with your fragility. To rave is an art. It's about pushing your limits and
connecting to a community of like-minded people.
Sound, light, and vibration Reshape our perceptions Pulling us into a trance-like state. The repetition of the bass, we don’t just hear it but we feel it.
Altering our consciousness and dissolving ego and time.
Madonna announced today her eagerly anticipated new album Confessions ll is set for release on July 3rd via Warner Records.
The new album is the continuation of the iconic counterpart Confessions on a Dance Floor. Ahead of the lead single, Madonna unveils the first taste of music with a trancelike visual teaser. Watch HERE. Fans can pre-order the album + the ultimate curation of expansive vinyl and CDs
Madonna sums up her new record best by quoting the first few lines of her song, One Step Away, “People think that dance music is superficial, but they’ve got it all wrong. The dance floor is not just a place, it’s a threshold: A ritualistic space where movement replaces language.”
Madonna adds “When Stuart Price and I first started working on this record, this was our manifesto”:
We must dance, celebrate, and pray with our bodies. These are things that we've been doing for thousands of years — they really are spiritual practices. After all, the dance floor is a ritualistic space. It’s a place where you connect
—with your wounds, with your fragility. To rave is an art. It's about pushing your limits and
connecting to a community of like-minded people.
Sound, light, and vibration Reshape our perceptions Pulling us into a trance-like state. The repetition of the bass, we don’t just hear it but we feel it.
Altering our consciousness and dissolving ego and time.
Curated by Brian d'Souza (aka Auntie Flo), Plants Can Dance is a forthcoming new compilation bringing together a global community of artists, exploring the creative possibilities of biosonification - transforming signals from plants, ecosystems and the natural world into sound. Out June 26th, the project marks the culmination of several years of d'Souza’s work across music, ecology and technology.
The album arrives at a time when more artists are turning toward nature as both subject and collaborator, such as Brian Eno’s Earth Percent, which formally recognises “Nature” as an artist. Plants Can Dance sits within a wider cultural shift, which is redefining the relationship between sound and the living world.
The project builds on several years of work by d'Souza, whose Plants Can Dance events have taken place across the UK, Europe, India and Africa, appearing in institutions including the V&A, Tate and the Design Museum. What began as a series of intimate gatherings has since evolved into a global platform, reflecting a growing appetite for work that reconnects music with the natural world.
The compilation features contributions from leading practitioners including Modern Biology (Tarun Nayar) in collaboration with saxophonist Zekarias Musele Thompson, OMMA (Olga Maximovam founder of Playtronica), Jason Singh, Dr Helen Anahita Wilson, Justin Wiggan in collaboration with celebrated Norwegian jazz musician Arve Henriksen, Lamine Touré, Bit Marten and Balam, alongside new work from d'Souza himself. Using a range of tools - from commercially available devices to bespoke modular systems - artists translate electrical activity, environmental data and organic processes into musical material.
The processes behind each piece differ - from interpreting plant biodata to translating wind patterns into compositional structures - and the results are as varied as they are compelling. The record spans ambient, jazz, electronica and modern classical, yet all pieces are unified by a shared intent: to reimagine music as a space of collaboration between human and more-than-human worlds.
At the core of Plants Can Dance is a question about how we define music, and how we choose to listen. Traditional musical forms, with their fixed tempos and predictable structures, give way here to something more fluid and less easily controlled. The listener is invited to surrender expectation and engage with sound as an evolving environment rather than a linear narrative. In this context, the compositions function as what d'Souza describes as “acoustic ecologies” - sonic systems shaped by biological, environmental and elemental forces unfolding in real time.
Accompanying the release is a printed zine offering reflections from each artist, and deeper insight into the ideas and debates surrounding this practice. Rather than presenting definitive answers, Plants Can Dance positions itself as an artistic exploration grounded in curiosity, experimentation and critical thought.
Ultimately, Plants Can Dance is less concerned with proving whether plants “make music” than with changing how we listen. By inviting audiences to engage with sound shaped by non-humans, it opens up new ways of perceiving the environments we inhabit - not as passive backdrops, but as active, dynamic participants in a shared ecological network. In doing so, it offers a quietly radical proposition: that by listening differently, we might begin to relate to the natural world differently too.
Following the release of Chris Liebing's 'Evolver' album this spring, German duo FJAAK rework 'Higher Things' which appeared on the full-length, releasing via CLR on 29th May 2026. Long established as a formidable force within Techno, FJAAK are known for crafting high-impact, floor-focused tracks, often via their self-titled imprint, with the Berlin artists now joining a star-studded cast on Chris Liebing's latest full-length, including photographer and film director Anton Corbijn on photography, and collaborations with Charlotte de Witte, Luke Slater, The Advent, Speedy J, Terence Fixmer, Pascal Gabriel, and
Daniel Miller.
Their remix reshapes 'Higher Things' around a rattling dub techno framework, where molten chords soften the weight of mechanical kicks while resonant stabs and swelling textures steadily intensify. The result is a hypnotic yet forceful reimagining, balancing atmospheric depth with anthemic, warehouse-ready pressure.
The original version of Chris Liebing's 'Higher Things' appears on his debut solo LP, 'Evolver', released 27th March 2026 on CLR. Marking a distillation of over three decades at Techno's core, the album pairs introspective depth with immediate, floor-driven impact, bringing together contributions from the likes of Luke Slater, Charlotte de Witte, Speedy J and The Advent, while ultimately remaining rooted in Liebing's singular vision, channeling the raw, industrial energy of classic club spaces into a refined, forward-facing long player.
LOS ANGELES—To celebrate the 40th anniversary of the celebrated Talking Heads and Jonathan Demme’s concert film Stop Making Sense, the set will be re-released as a 2LP and 2CD/Blu-ray set this summer.
Released last year, the sold-out Deluxe Edition of the soundtrack will return as a 2-LP black vinyl on Rhino and 2-LP crystal clear vinyl at retail. Both variants feature a 12-page booklet with liner notes from all four band members –Tina Weymouth, David Byrne, Chris Frantz, and Jerry Harrison—and band photos. The 2CD/Blu-ray version includes the entire 28-page booklet from last year’s Deluxe Edition and a Dolby Atmos mix of the complete concert, mixed by Jerry Harrison and E.T. Thorngren, who also mixed the original release. Both will be available on July 26. Pre-order now.
The band appeared together for a sold-out screening and Q&A last night at the Pantages Theater, the same theater at which Stop Making Sense was recorded. They were joined by Blondshell, who performed “Thank You For Sending Me an Angel.” Another special screening with the band will occur in Brooklyn at the King’s Theater on June 13, with the Q&A hosted by Questlove and The Linda Linda’s performing “Found a Job.” The two events cap off a banner year of celebrations for what many consider to be the best concert film of all time.
The inspiration for Stop Making Sense came when director Jonathan Demme saw Talking Heads perform during the band’s 1983 tour for Speaking in Tongues. Afterward, he approached them with the idea of making the show into a concert film. They agreed and worked together over the next few months to finalize the details. Ultimately, Demme filmed three shows at Hollywood’s Pantages Theater in December 1983 to create Stop Making Sense.
The concert film presents a retrospective of the band up to that point, with a performance that weaves together songs from all six of its studio albums. The show progresses methodically, opening with Byrne onstage performing “Psycho Killer” alone with a drum machine. After each song, he’s joined by a new band member until Weymouth, Frantz, and Harrison are all on stage with him. The group continues to grow throughout the concert as members of the stellar touring band are added: keyboardist Bernie Worrell, percussionist Steve Scales, guitarist Alex Weir, and backup singers Lynn Mabry and Ednah Holt.
The band performs 18 songs in Stop Making Sense, including its recent single at the time, “Burning Down The House.” That summer, the song was in heavy rotation on radio and MTV, helping the song become the band’s first top 10 hit in America. It was, however, a different song from Speaking in Tongues that was destined to deliver one of the film’s signature moments. Talking Heads would perform “Girlfriend Is Better” wearing the now iconic, oversized suit inspired by costumes worn in traditional Japanese theater. For good measure, a picture of David Byrne in the suit also graces the album cover.
Stop Making Sense focuses mainly on music by Talking Heads but does include a few songs recorded outside the band: “Genius Of Love” by Tom Tom Club, “What A Day That Was” and “Big Business” from Byrne’s 1981 album, The Catherine Wheel. Limited edition vinyl versions of both of these albums, along with Harrison’s The Red And The Black, were released for this year’s Record Store Day.
When it arrived in September 1984, Stop Making Sense was an artistic and commercial triumph. The film had people dancing in theatre aisles, and the soundtrack sold over two million copies. Just last year, the Library of Congress added Stop Making Sense to the National Film Registry in recognition of its cultural, historical, and aesthetic significance.
Weymouth praises Demme as a collaborator: “…Jonathan was a very enthusiastic, highly adaptive, and imaginative guy who was just as good a listener as he was a talker and collaborator. From the get-go you just got the impression he was as flexible as he was disciplined. Being team players, that boded well for a great relationship and a great film!”
Harrison says the film still holds up today: “To me, Stop Making Sense has remained relevant because the staging and lighting techniques could have been created in a much earlier time period. For example, Vari-Lights, lights with motors to re-aim them, had just come into vogue. Had we used them, there would have been a timestamp on the film, and it eventually would have felt dated...The absence of interviews, combined with the elegant and timeless lighting, created a film that can be watched over and over.”
Byrne says it’s interesting that this album was – for many people – an introduction to Talking Heads. “We had done a live album before this, but coupled with the film, and with the improved mixes and sound quality, this record reached a whole new audience. As often happens, the songs got an added energy when we performed them live and were inspired by having an audience. In many ways, these versions are more exciting than the studio recordings, so maybe that’s why a lot of folks discovered us via this record.”
Frantz recalls the sheer joy surrounding the entire Stop Making Sense experience. “I’m talking about real, conscious, transcendent joy… I’m talking about what the Southern gospel people call ‘getting happy,’ which means ‘to be filled with the Spirit.’ That is what happened to us onstage every night, and from my seat behind the drums, I recognized that this was happening to the audience too. Joy was visible in front of me and all around me every night.”
Roughly three and a half years since pushing the boundaries of 160BPM and stepping beyond the realm of footwork with the Reidai EP, Oyubi returns with an even deeper sound, dropping due yesterday.
This EP consists of four tracks that showcase a darker, more introspective side of the producer, stepping away from the ghetto and booty flavors found in his other releases. However, anchored by his signature sequence patterns, the sound design—striking a perfect balance between playful and profoundly dope—only serves to amplify the groove.
The ultimate embodiment of this evolution is the B1 track, "Taiko 2." While it inherits its name from "Taiko 160" on the Reidai EP, its form is entirely transformed. Relentless, high-speed drums and stripped-back minimal components take over the mind and body like a dark incantation. Packing a hypnotic power that far surpasses its predecessor, it's destined to be a killer weapon in any DJ set. It’s also worth noting that this track draws heavy inspiration from Kode9 & DJ Fulltono’s "TKO."
Naturally, the other three tracks are just as formidable. Infused with elements of dub, A1 "Erekiteru" centers around a pulsing bassline heartbeat, keeping the groove steady alongside crisp, dry claps. Meanwhile, A2 "Da Groove" and B2 "Wop Wop" heavily incorporate Baile Funk and Dembow influences. "Da Groove" is quintessential Oyubi: as the extended intro breaks and the four-to-the-floor kick drops in lockstep with the bass, it guarantees instant unity on the dancefloor. Finally, B2 "Wop Wop" relies on intentional distortion and subtle spatial processing to build its foundation, revealing a dark side akin to "Taiko 2"—complete with an exceptionally punchy snare.
Fully loaded with Oyubi's uncompromising dark-side approach, due yesterday is set to be a 160BPM masterpiece.
If – in some parallel universe (or perhaps a not-so-distant-future version of the one we’re already sentenced to living in) – the evil overloads of artificial intelligence were actually successful in their attempts to create convincingly enjoyable “original music,” more specifically tasked with wholly encapsulating my own personal tastes by data-chugging some cocktail of – oh, I don’t know – the posters on my wall, the records in my “most listened to” pile, the mixtapes I made for others, intensive physical scans of my auditory cortex, amygdala, hippocampus, heart strings, whatever else they have splayed out on their autopsy table with the intention of generating one all-encompassing “perfect band” based on the fruitful sum of their findings – that band, for me, would be (or would at least sound exactly like) the Tara Clerkin Trio. It is, quite simply, without exception, the music I wish to hear.
Formed in Bristol UK (where none of them are from yet all of whom are deeply engrained) in 2020, the Tara Clerkin Trio – as it somewhat democratically exists today, despite the singular authority implied by its name – consists of the titular Tara Clerkin, her partner Sunny Joe Paradisos, and Sunny’s brother, Patrick Benjamin. I’ll confess, I don’t know what their respective roles are within the operation and there’s only a very small part of me that cares to learn, as one of my favorite qualities in an objective listening experience is the mystery of who is playing what, which sounds are “authentic” versus synthesized, which chunks are performed “live” in a room together versus meticulously Frankenstein’ed from measure to measure, or how exactly the overall sound is so (seemingly) effortlessly achieved. Though, I suspect, if and when I do witness a live performance by this band at any point, my enjoyment of the music will not be lost in my better understanding of it.
With two extraordinary mini-albums – In Spring (2021) and On The Turning Ground (2023) – making a splash on London’s formidable World of Echo label in wake of their self-titled 2020 debut, this upcoming Somewhere Good LP is, in many ways, the band’s most realised work. In running their usual gauntlet of idiosyncratic (*an overused adjective for which here there is regrettably no sufficient alternative) approaches, Clerkin & co. colour in and outside of compositional lines over the course of 40+ celebratory minutes - never wallowing, despite inherently somber subject matters of self-defeat, disease, displacement, restlessness, gentrification - allowing their arrangements and improvisations ample space and time to situate, stretch out, breathe, cross-pollinate, and ultimately take deeper hold on the listener’s imagination – all while somehow sounding more like themselves than ever before.
Of course, there are traceable influences herein, if one felt that such comparisons were necessary to properly examine and enjoy this music (they aren’t)… Being the big dumb American from the small boring town that I am, cornfed on ‘90s alternative radio with the enchantingly exotic sounds of Maxinquaye and Mezzanine emanating from my chunky tube television, I can’t help but to make a blatantly obvious reference to a “Bristol sound”, ie the whole trip-hop trip, the pastoral crooning over the suggestive urban grime of cracked electro/piano treatments, the digitally-yet-primitively reconstructed James Bond soundtrack string-beats, etc.. But the Tara Clerkin Trio is so infinitely much more than that. There are elements of avant-pop, modern classical, kraut-folk, audio verité, dare I say indie rock (and not of the beer guzzling, masturbatory fuzz-flex variety but perhaps more like a Trish Keenan-fronted Faust, Adrian Sherwood at the mixing desk of If You’re Feeling Sinister, or – in expanding on our alternate reality – a world in which High Llamas cut a full-length for Warp Records with Andrew Weatherall on coffee duty).
The hazy, unmappable skyline-mirage of droning harmonium, upright bass, peculiarly accentuated wind instruments, acoustic guitar, hushed yet literally mighty keys combine to hypnotizing effect. The band may make underlying nods to jazz, sure, but it’s not appropriation, it’s that they have the actual chops to build it out. Beneath the janky samples and oddball percussive embellishment lies actually great drumming. Beyond the manipulated vocal witchery and woefully reflective plain-spoke moments are Tara’s subtly inspired melodies, sung with what might honestly be the glue to the whole crazy equation. A calming consistency throughout the otherwise unpredictably dynamic, boldly intuitive, uniquely British exploration of this (their own) universe in song. – Ryan Davis (Chicago, February 2026)
Available for the first time on any format, the soundtrack of Pier Paolo Pasolini's controversial 1975 vision of the Marquis De Sade's 120 Days Of Sodom, featuring beautiful and discordant classical compositions, in stark contrast to the shocking and cruel events unfolding onscreen.
Three weeks before the scandalous release of "Salò, or The 120 Days Of Sodom", Pasolini was brutally murdered in Ostia, Italy. In the wake of the tragedy, legendary composer Ennio Morricone wrote 'Addio a Pier Paolo Pasolini' (Goodbye to Pier Paolo Pasolini) for the late filmmaker, included in the final edit.
Following the narrative of one of Pasolini's defining cinematic moments, the soundtrack opens with Ennio Morricone's "Son Tanto Triste", descends into the melancholic minor chords of Bach, Chopin, Orff, Puccini, and Graziosi, incorporates sinister renditions by the cast, and includes Morricone's own sombre tribute to the director.
Disgusted by the flood of crass sexploitation movies which filled the space opened up by his "Trilogy Of Life", Pasolini turned to the most nihilistic thinker in European history for what became his final film. His version of De Sade's 120 Days Of Sodom, amplified with motifs from Dante's Inferno, confronts the ultimate implications of fascism in a series of sexual and moral atrocities. "The only true anarchy is power".
The LP / CD will be released on Friday 13th February 2026, exactly 249 years since the Marquis de Sade was arrested and imprisoned in the dungeon of the Vincennes fortress for charges of "debauchery and immoderate libertinage" that scandalised his contemporaries.
Jess Sah Bi is well-known as half of the legendary duo Jess Sah Bi & Peter One who brought homegrown Country-Americana to the West African masses with their smash debut Our Garden Needs Its Flowers in the mid-1980s. Touring stadiums and reaching listeners worldwide, their music has racked up millions of spins on YouTube and remains imprinted in the hearts of Ivorians of a certain age. ATFA reissued their album in 2018, garnering critical acclaim from publications including Pitchfork and Rolling Stone and reaching a new generation of listeners outside Ivory Coast (Cote d'Ivoire). Sometime in the early 90s, Die Sahbi - or Jesse, as he known to friends-became gravely ill with an unknown ailment and almost died. He visited various doctors and all kinds of religious healers and nothing helped. One day he went down to an Evangelical Christian revival in his neighborhood. They prayed over him and he was delivered. He says, "Their prayers helped chase out whatever demons and unhealthy spirits were inside me. After that my illness went away. When I went to the United States a few months later on an exchange program I wanted to make music to thank God because I was saved." He recorded an album of music praising God in order to honor a promise he made to himself at the depths of his desperation in the hospital. The album Jesus-Christ Ne Deçoit Pas Jesus Christ Does Not Let Us Down came out in 1991 and sold around 3000 cassettes in Ivory Coast. The master tape was lost along the way so the recording has never been on digital platforms until now. Jesse didn't have much time to record while visiting South Carolina, hence the relatively short album, 6 songs including two reprises for filler. A local pastor connected him with a studio and some American musicians (Robert Fortner and Gary Davis) to help. They added acoustic guitar, percussion and keyboard accompaniment to Jesse's soaring French and Gouro vocals, harmonica and finger-picked acoustic. The resulting recording is deeply soothing and contemplative music that perfectly compliments the songs already embraced by millions. But he had to find the rest of the studio expenses-$600 total-which he secured drawing cartoons for UNICEF. Jesse is Ivory Coast's first political cartoonist, a vocation for which he was widely celebrated at the time. It also made him a few enemies which lead to him leaving the country permanently a few years later. Jesus-Christ Ne Deçoit Pas is Jess Sah Bi's first and only gospel album. Fortunately, fans responded with enthusiasm: widespread radio airplay and concerts followed, along with a growing solo profile in the country. The first big gospel artists in Ivory Coast were the duo Mathieu et Constance, who emerged in 1989. There was a bigger gospel music movement in English-speaking counties like Ghana and Nigeria (Christians make up roughly 40% of the population in Ivory Coast, slightly less than Muslims). Jesse didn't have any intention of working in Christian music but he realized, "You don't make music to make money-you want to send a message." In the years since Jesus-Christ's release, gospel music in Ivory Coast has grown to become a key part of music culture in the country. Spiritual music appears in community actives across the public and private spectrum from religious gatherings and parties to television broadcasts and music festivals. And, as it has evolved and indigenized locally, gospel music has picked up elements of traditional Ivorian music, reggae and soul. The album ultimately precipitated the demise of the duo, who were soon separated geographically as Peter One relocated to Nashville. He went on to become a nurse and release a successful solo album on Verve following the ATFA collaboration. Nowadays Jesse lives in the Bay Area and continues to record and perform music wherever and whenever he has the chance. He is publishing a new book of humorous cartoons in 2025 and his most recent album Never Give Up came out in 2020
