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The debut album from CEM, 'FORMA' was developed as a soundtrack to Mauro Ventura’s series of "action painting performances" and uses various bell sounds (cowbells, doorbells, Shinto bells, singing bowls) to pick out anxious giallo sequences and heaving Dadaist formations.

CEM's best known for pneumatic DJ sets that have propped up Berlin's queer underground for a decade at this point, but don't expect to find any vaped darkroom tek on 'FORMA'. Each of the six compositions were commissioned for Ventura’s performative installation at Volksbühne in 2022, and CEM opted to represent the piece's themes of labor and repetition by sampling an arsenal of bells and metal objects that anchor his varying widescreen vignettes. 'The Calling' is a relatively subtle introduction, establishing the space with double bass drones and ratcheting digitally altered chimes - it's 'Bells Corrupt' that cements CEM's concept more righteously, harking back to Goblin's iconic 'Suspiria' score without pastiching any of its Italo-prog themes. Cycling ritualistic bell loops with squashed, industrial-strength thuds and granulised laptop belches, CEM silhouettes the tension and the vivid color of Argento's film, chrome plating the result.

'An Industrial Satire' is even more convincing; this one takes its cues from legendary German sound artist Limpe Fuchs, and the first part integrates scraped, alien resonances with CEM's loping industrial rhythms and squelchy EBM bassline. The real shift occurs in the second part, when CEM's choppy electroacoustic minimalism falls away to unlock his rolling hand drum performance, that he matches with a ghaita sample lifted from the Master Musicians of Joujouka's 1971 album with Brian Jones. With the future-facing deconstructions a memory, 'Statue Garden' beds reedy organ drones in eerie gallery ambiance, and closer 'The New Sincerity Test' finds Lithuanian performance artist Gertrūda Gilytė skewering the wellness industrial complex over nauseous subsonic oscillations and scratchy noise.

Japanese bamboo flute maestro and goat (JP) cohort Rai Tateishi makes an impressive debut statement with his holistic attempts to transcend the limits of ancient instruments to reveal gently delirious insights.

‘Presence’ is a triumph of improvised, elemental musicality that distills aspects of myriad folk traditions in pursuit of the artist’s own truth. For 40 minutes of singularly weird, locked-in performance, Rai Tateishi diverges his formative training in the shinobue (a bamboo flute) to applications for its elder sibling, the shakuhachi, and its distant relatives in the khene mouth organ of Northeastern Thailand and Laos, and even the Irish flute, with remarkable results returned from each.

Piece to piece, Tateishi adapts a spectra of unusual and extended instrumental experiments to articulate uniquely animist sound arrangements, with judicious use of a ring modulator and delay effects only subtly altering his sound in real-time, gelling the harmonics and smoothing off its contours. Some 15 years of studies and accreted knowledge of histories, timelines, and spirits are deftly tattered in the air and rebound in precisely complex ribbons that become all the more impressive by virtue of its in-the-moment recording.

Presented with no overdubs, the six works were recorded by label head and KAKUHAN/goat lynchpin Koshiro Hino across three days of adventurous improvisation capturing the breadth of Tateishi’s vision in a mix of succinct flights of fancy and one durational wonder where he really cuts loose. An opening piece of rapid percussive fingering and rasping sets the tone for increasingly intricate explorations of the shinobue, and bluesy cadence of a reedy Thai khene - antecedent of the shō - whipped into headier harmonic overtones, whilst his 5th piece for Irish flute best recalls Ka Baird or Michael O’Shea’s lysergic impishness, and a 13 minute closing piece most boldly fucks with folk and jazz traditions, in-depth and with the genre short-circuiting audacity of Rahsaan Roland Kirk.

Landing in the wake of prism-shaking works by Will Guthrie & Mark Fell, goat (jp) and Kakuhan; Tateishi’s ‘Presence’ more than lives up to NAKID’s impressive levels, unflinchingly operating by its wits with a verve and dare-to-differ moxie that gets at it from the first hit to the last, harnessing the kind of skill and ingenuity that’s distinctive but still strikingly minimal and overwhelmingly physical. It's a remarkable achievement.

Repress!

Echospace Detroit is the label launched by Rod Modell (Deepchord) and Soultek's Steven Hitchell, two leading lights of the minimal dub techno scene. And as with anything Deepchord, the entire release has an air of mystery to it. Previously, as a near-mythical vinyl pressing with minimal packaging and restricted pressings, everything about Vantage Isle was geared toward the underground, or 'those who know.' However, there's nothing but love of craft driving these grooves, and now a lot more people will finally be able to hear this absolutely brilliant collection of spacial dub wonder on CD. Vantage Isle Sessions consists of a whopping 13 takes of the title track, reworked by Modell and Hitchell in various guises (cv313, Deepchord, Echospace, Spacecho), as well as a guest spot (and first ever remix) from Gerard Hanson (Convextion). Across their 13 versions, Modell and Hitchell manage to take the Deepchord template (analog synths, deep bass, gently throbbing beats, bursts of static and noise, and deep, deep chords) into a surprising variety of directions, akin to looking at the same giant glacier from a helicopter from every angle possible: some are beatless and undulating, some are pulsing and dynamic, some are looking up from under the ice and some are towering overhead. The aforementioned Convextion version is revelatory. It's built on cascading and echoing pieces of the original that are layered like shifting sands, for a distinctly dark and shimmering journey to the bottom of the frozen ocean and back. It's remarkable enough to get all these takes on one basic template to sound somewhat different, given that the source material is really just a skeletal array of sound sheets. Vantage Isle Sessions is for anyone looking for the logical successors to the Basic Channel throne, or just looking for something mellow for those steamy late summer nights. A stone-cold classic of the genre. Don't miss it." -Todd Hutlock, Stylus Magazine/Beatz by the Pound

"Steeped in mystery, Detroit musicians Rod Modell and Mike Schommer (aka Deepchord) are legendary for their hard to find twelve-inch dub techno releases. Their sound is heavily influenced by Berlin dub techno producers like Maurizio, Basic Channel, Chain Reaction, Rhythm & Sound, Blue Train and Pole. While the German sound often has a futuristic metallic edge, Deepchord are known more for the rust and grease, which is part and parcel of those metal parts. Static, analog sounds, deep bass thumps and, of course, deep chords blend in a timeless minimal manner. However, the real gems on this disc are the drifty ambient cuts devoid of beats. This is an excellent album that is on par with the classics from a decade ago!" -Exclaim


"In terms of ambient dub, if Basic Channel is the Father (the source, remote and inaccessible and very powerful) and Pole is the Son (dazzling but ultimately stranded halfway between man and the divine), than Rod Modell’s Deepchord and his Echospace label he run with Steve Hitchell is definitely the Holy Spirit." -Popmatters


"Deepchord’s dub-techno stealthily peels away melody, leaving a bare chassis of beats to ghost-ride down Woodward Avenue. Vantage Isle Sessions, which collects remixes of a 2002 Detroit Electronic Music Festival performance, finds the duo swerving through empty, neon-smeared streets, and recalls Berlin’s Chain Reaction label, minus the anemic minimalism." -XLR8R

"The album scales a magnificent peak in “Spacecho Dub II - Extended Mix” when smeary chords ricochet over a massively deep, bass-heavy pulse, and Hanson's light-speed missile of vaporous propulsion (“Convextion Remix”) is beautiful too.
Long may they run." -Textura

‘Vantage Isle’ is a tremendous achievement that will most likely be held up as a high water mark of the genre for years to come." -Resident Advisor

"My favorite mix is by Convextion (his first remix for another artist). Reedy, distant synth tones sound like a science fiction soundtrack overheard rooms away. An undercurrent of echoes, many difficult to describe, drift in a sonic syrup." -Gridface

"Modell’s music always seems to be in this suspended animation, adrift and afloat in a majestic emptiness." -Dusted Mag

CREDITS:
Written & Produced by Deepchord. Redesigned and Reshaped by Convextion (Gerard Hanson) cv313 (Stephen Hitchell) echospace / spacecho (Rod Modell + Stephen Hitchell)
Additional Mastering, Mixing and Engineering by Ron Murphy @ NSC Mastering, Detroit, USA. Side E/F Remastering and Lacquer cutting by Dietrich @ Complete, NYC, USA. (2018)

Ein fantastischer Live-Mitschnitt vom 8. November 1975 in Bremen von "Reedman" Gary Bartz mit seiner ultra-hippen NTU-Band, die man von ihren 1970er Klassikeralben bei Milestone kennt. Fast zwei Stunden Free & Spiritual Jazz. Limitierte Auflage auf 180g Black Double Vinyl im Gatefold. Erster Release des neuen Cinedelic-Sublabels Free Flow Archive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Flutter Ridder is the duo of Norwegian multidisciplinary artists Espen Friberg and Jenny Berger Myhre, both of whom play important roles in Oslo’s contemporary art and music underground. The pair first collaborated during the production of Friberg’s debut solo record, “Sun Soon” (Hubro, 2022), quickly recognizing in one another a creative kinship rooted in a playful, intentionally naive approach towards making art. In November of 2023, the pair decamped to the coastal town of Hvisten in southeastern Norway to record what would become this debut, self-titled album in an ancient wooden church. Drawing from a palette of Friberg’s idiosyncratic Serge modular system and the church’s resident pipe organ and intoxicating acoustic reverb, they began recording and sculpting music informed by the notion that air and electricity share a common flow, a continuous current that can be directed through valves and potentiometers. The pair came to think of the Serge and pipe organ as sibling instruments, the former yielding characteristically unpredictable and complex timbres that complement the wooly, reedy drones and strange, microtonal overtones of the latter. At once sublime, liturgical, and whimsical, Flutter Ridder offers its listener a series of moving, cinematic natural landscapes, affirming the sensibilities of its makers and the indelible influence of the environment in which it was produced.

Bugge Wesseltoft has long been a shaper of his own jazz idioms, through his diverse solo albums, his group projects such as New Conception of Jazz, OKWorld! and RYMDEN, and collaborations with artists such as Sidsel Endresen, Henning Kraggerud or Henrik Schwarz.

"Am Are" features special constellations of superb musicians that spans both generations and styles, and is an exploration of sonic textures, dynamic contrasts of mood and style, and ranges from sparse arrangements through to complex layers of dubs and loops and improvisational interplay.

The album begins with Bugge alone on "How?" with layers of undulating atmospheric synth, brought into focus by Bugge's piano at the forefront, creating a minimalist miniature that is both emotive and serene. For "Villrein" Bugge is joined by Elias Tafjord on drums, beginning with a santur-like synth figure, floating over ominous formant sci-fi bass synths bubbling and pulsing, and overlaid by phrenetic piano that only stops to lock into the santur figure before relaunching on its own journeys, all underpinned by Elias Tafjord's expressive drumming. "Is Anyone Listening?" demonstrate's Bugge's songcraft, layering muted percussive piano behind Rohey's distinctive and beautiful vocals punctuated by Martin Myhre Olsen's tenor saxophone, creating a soulful mood tinged with desperation.

"BAG" presents the first classic piano trio of the album - Bugge on piano and synths, Arild Andersen on bass, and Gard Nilssen on drums - announcing itself with an insistent riff, chattering drums, breaking into a progressive rock-style passage of bass and piano in unison. "Reel", the second track from this trio, is a mellow soundscape that evolves to become hazy urban downbeat jazz.

The second piano trio of Bugge (Rhodes and Korg MS20 synth), Sveinung Hovensjø (Electric Bass), and Jon Christensen (Drums and Bells) offers a completely different perspective. The first track "Render" features Bugge's Zawinul-esque Rhodes and monosynth leads, Sveinung's fuzz bass in something of a leading role, all carried with chattering gusto by Jon Christensen's dynamic drumming that brings texture and space as well as rhythm to the piece. "Vender" begins as an atmospheric piece, with reed organ-like synth washes, and octave-processed bass with a somewhat sitar-like tone, meandering until the track breaks down into drums and bass weaving around an insistent drum machine loop, dripping with synth pads and monosynth lead.

"JazzBasill" introduces the third piano trio - featuring Bugge (Piano), Jens Mikkel Madsen (Acoustic Bass) and Øyunn (Drums) - and offers a classic piano trio style with urban sophistication, that is lyrical, and interspersed with staccato cadences, giving a feeling of broken swing, slightly staggered yet driving forwards. The title track "AM ARE" is late night jazz, with baroque whispers, and distinctly melodic.

The final track, "Think Ahead" features the non-standard trio of Bugge (Piano/Organ), Oddrun Lilja (Guitar) and Sanskriti Shrestha (Tablas/Harp). Beginning with a minimalist piano figure, table, and sustained guitar, the track breaks down to a noise surge and ambient windscape, with guitar birds and abstract grinding, before returning to minimalist melodicism.

The shifting personnel across the album, as well as the three different studios in which it was recorded - Village Recording in Copenhagen, Rainbow Studios in Oslo, and his own Buggesroom Studio - creates a feeling of dynamic change and musical variety that is unified by Bugge's piano and keyboards. His playing moves between foreground, where he allows the music to elevate him, and background, where he move gently like a beneficent presence, tending to the demands of the spirit of the musical moments he has captured. It is an album powered by restless exploration and shaped by distinctive musical personalities; it is a journey through different moods, illuminated and brought into focus by Bugge's measured approach and guiding hand.

Straight outta Montreal, Canada, Spleen is a one supergroup featuring members of local royalties such as punk bands Béton Armé and Puffer and black metal acts Conifère and Vespéral.

Formed in 2022 and taking their name from Paris Spleen by Charles Baudelaire, they released their first cassette on Roachleg Records in 2023 delivering five post-punk cuts inspired by the colder aspect of french bands like Camera Silens, DEM and later-era Blitz.

Having added a new, sixth member on synthesizer, their second demo was released on Roachleg again just one month ago, taking on new influences from 60’s and 80’s psych garage rock and developing a unique sound not easily categorizable.

Not unlike the latest Duke of Oi! EP by Criminal, picture French skankin’ punk rockers from the 80s (I’m thinking Identité X) meeting somewhere cold with the California dreamers from the Paisley Underground (The Dream Syndicate, of course) and you’ll get the vibe.

And if you think this is odd for people playing also in Oi and BM groups just remember that Blitz first covered Lou Reed’s Vicious back in 1982 so you should not be surprised.

With everything just said we simply couldn’t back out of pressing both EPs on one tasty 12” vinyl compilation, one demo per side, with new sci-fi-influenced artwork by the band’s own Dan and Mathias.

DJ Support: Erol Alkan, Kenneth Bager, Leo Mas, FFan, Sean Johnston (ALFOS), Max Essa, Coyote, Ban Ban Ton Ton, Chris Coco

Hell Yeah series File Under Balearic Gabba continues its mission to bring some vital, previously digital-only Balearic Gabba weaponry to vinyl for the first time. This second volume has artwork by Planet Luke and features Wallace next to new school stars SIRS and Pedro Bertho.

Tartan Records label head and British talent Wallace opens up with a remix of Sewell And The Gong's 'Better Words' that has been a real summer hit for label head Marco Gallerani.

The original came on Jason Boardman's fine Before I Die label and is one of those jams that transcends genre and wins over techno heads, Adriatic beach groovers and festival main stages alike. It is 'proper Balearic Gabba' says Marco with its tropical percussion, humid pads and watery droplets all adding lush atmosphere to the dubby drums. The chords and reedy leads are beautifully delicate but get floors in a blissed-out, loved-up trance.

SIRS is an artist on fire right now and already impressed on this label with his remix of Aura Safari which is one of the year's standout Balearic house jams. He has a new single on the way for Hell Yeah but first flips label mate My Friend Dario's 'Tellaro' into a wobbly, psyched-out dub disco and breakbeat chugger. The zippy synths and shimmering keys are underpinned with a taught bassline and playful vocals that bring great fun and irresistible party vibes to any set.

Hell Yeah mainstay Verdo then has his 'Boulevardier' remixed by Pedro Bertho, a rising talent from Brazil with a steamy South American style. This one is a modern beach classic that unites both young and old heads with its frayed analogue drums and snappy percussion joining the dots between 80s Chicago house, new age and Balearic with its big piano chords and phased bass all getting hands the air.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Float like a butterfly and sting like a bee" said the famous boxer Mohammed Ali, in reference to his legendary strike. This punchline also works wonderfully in music, listening to Roseaux's third album. A French success story, created with all modesty and honesty by the Parisian trio: Emile Omar, Alex Finkin and Clément Petit.

The three musketeers of sound cultivate their know-how, now acclaimed by critics and an ever-growing audience since their first project in 2012. It took them time to take a step back and gain perspective in order to offer us a return that is both joyful and resounding.

Roseaux takes root on the banks of soul, folk, jazz, and songs from all eras, a cascade of inexhaustible sounds, where the three composers draw their inspiration and merge their experiences.

The leaves of Roseaux soar to the breath of wonderful voices, chosen with precision by the three friends, like that of the American singer Aloe Blacc, present since the beginning of the adventure, essential enchanter of the three episodes.

Conceived as a dreamlike escapade full of emotions, on the fringes of the massive, instantaneous and often disembodied production, Roseaux is a totally artisanal group, a sort of UFO in the French musical landscape, which operates on instinct and above all on desire.

Thus, Roseaux has become an expert in bringing together, for the duration of a record, the artists who specifically form the DNA of their host: captivating voices, a plot on the piano and cello, but also encounters and reunions, in a poetic and deliberately nebulous universe.

A welcoming nebula, where the listener is invited to listen and immerse themselves without hindrance, in a luxuriant, wild, exciting sound forest. This third album is the work of 3 music lovers, capable of switching roles: writing, arrangements, production, from which emerge this time, eleven tracks with chiseled melodies including three colorful and unusual instrumentals.

A journey between melancholy and euphoria, which led Roseaux to the ends of the planet, from the Caribbean to Europe via Africa to unearth other vibrations and unique performers: the captivating Grenadian-British singer Ala.ni, the little English afropop prince from Ghana, Ghetto Boy, and the disturbing Swedish Isabel Sörling, sign here a first flamboyant collaboration with the group.

While the talented Haitian-Canadian Mélissa Laveaux, the hypnotic Scandinavian singer Olle Nyman, the sparkling French-Canadian Anna Majidson and our remarkable national Ben, already present on the second part, still manage to create a surprise by revealing new aspects of their range.

Roseaux's voices are decidedly impenetrable and its magic is renewed today by making the strength of all these scintillating elements dialogue, to be discovered in a setting of softness and voluptuousness.

Nature is full of reeds, this one is unique.

Way back in 1962 all roads led to Dartford in Kent when a coming together of influences would result in the formation of the world’s greatest rock and roll band,The Rolling Stones...
Mick Jagger the singer and Keith Richards lead guitarist were both fans of early rockers Chuck Berry and Bo Diddley, whilst rhythm guitarist and harmonica player Brian Jones and pianist Ian Stewart would be immersed in the Blues that were coming from Chicago,the same influences would bring the original bassist Dick Taylor and drummer Tony Chapman to the party.

Nothing” is Swedish award winning reedplayer Thomas Backmans third album. International press have earlier described his music as ”Crime Jazz” and ”slow burn yearning widescreen chamber pop”. On this album the influences of chamber music might be a little bit more prominent, but still on a deep foundation of jazz, you can hear artpop and hiphop-influences. Aside from Backmans own band, the album delivers performances from stringquartet, choir and Baltimore-rapper Eze Jackson.

”Nothing” gives you an unpredictable journey from the first to the last note.

Stockholm-based reed player Thomas Backman have with his 2 previous soloalbums explored the boundaries of jazz. The seamless mix of bebop, freejazz, chamber music, hiphop, shoegaze etc have taken him and his band to important venues in Europe and the US. The previous album ”When Light Is Put Away” was awarded ”Best Jazz” at the Swedish Manifestawards in 2022 as well as a second position in the critics poll of worlds oldest jazz magazine ”Orkesterjournalens” prestigious ”Golden Record” the same year.

“Where is this? It looks like the grounds of a shrine. Like a deep, dark, forest. I'm wandering around. I can't get over the feeling that I've been to this place before. The temple and the tower look much bigger than usual, and I feel as if I were lost in a world of immensity. It's very dark with no sky up above, like being in the depths of the Earth. Anyway, it's a world I know.” - Leisure, the Sonorous Dream

For schuttle’s next unearthly contribution, we invite you to slip into the reassuring comforts of the simulated realm. Herein lies an open invitation to all of those tentative travellers willing to join us as we revel in four slices of post-biological optimism.

The world building begins with “Splan”. schuttle’s navigation vessel hovers steadily above a fractal landscape until a divine arp propels us skywards. We burst through the latent cloudsphere to marvel at the boundless synergy of the interlocking polygons. The sunburst gradient barely has time to load before an oscillating wriggle plunges us into a strangely familiar stomping ground. Hedonistic NPCs begin spawning at random, splurging joyful machine funk at each other before walking gleefully into walls. Finally, with a little help from a well known toad, schuttle unleashes the full might of his Mana on the nascent gathering.

We dock next in ‘Melonweed Musick’. Our vessel gently stirring the reeds as we descend into the marshland. The potent aroma of the swamp fills our nostrils, various apparitions seem to wriggle into view. What have we been inhaling? No time to consider, the loose murk of the breakbeat is starting to take effect and it’s all we can do to keep one foot squelching after the other. As we submit wholeheartedly to the sheer depth and clarity of the bassline, a kindly angel sweeps above the sphagnum, spraying a succession of cleansing chords over our slimy bodies. Refreshed with some useful navigation advice we continue.

In ‘Kitchen Sync’ our craft’s speedometer is tickled up to a cruising 120bpm. The world outside our window begins to swim with colour, prickly forms materialise then dissipate around us. The familiar shape of our old friend, the high priest 303 appears before us, steadying the ship. Its resonant flame warming our hearth, and our hearts too. Then begins a beautiful communion of the domestic and the otherworldly, through the interplay of acid under glimmering keys. Provoking within us an uncontrollable desire to open our curtains, to cast off our slippers and embrace the infinite morrow.

Our voyage concludes with ‘Inspo 2000’. Scintillating landing lights guide us toward our destination, our descent beckoned by woody and playful percussion. We tumble through the troposphere, our landing cushioned by the buoyancy of the gated chords, the kicks juicing what's left of our dwindling fuel supply. A luxurious breakdown brings the ground into focus. Perhaps this is home? The simulation is now so accurate that it seems pointless to question it, it is a world we have always known.

Second outing from DISCO DUB 45 fresh off the fierce AFRICAN DUBPLATE 12". Four trax of outrageously rare and unheard of jams compiled and reedited by BLACK DISCO DEMO CLUB featuring every flavor of disco you could hope for Limited pressing you'd be smart to get your hands on

The debut full-length album from Los Angeles duo Cash & Skye, following their successful 7” No More Candy (Third Man Records) in 2021. This alluring infusion of Americana and Rock and Roll, executed with a punk-rock ethos, documents the 7 year musical journey of songwriters Henri Cash and Sophia Skye de Reeder, and features players from Cash’s prolific and beloved band, Starcrawler.

Wrekmeister Harmonies, the duo of JR Robinson and Esther Shaw, are sonic shape shifters with expansive ideas. From special performances to collaborations the band have worked with David Yow (Jesus Lizard) Ryley Walker, Ken Vandermark, Bruce Lamont, Mark Solotroff, Sanford Parker, Jamie Fennely (Mind Over Mirrors), The Body, Mary Lattimore, Olivia Block, Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu), Chris Brokaw, Fred Lonberg-Holm and Thor Harris (Swans). Inspired by artists such as Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, and Lou Reed, the duo approach each album as a new sonic adventure. Flowers in the Spring was born of deep, careful listening as much as composing. It explores music as a meditative practice with a focus on microtonal shifts and intersectional overtones. Robinson explains: "It"s the subtle movements within and without, the fine threads of sound, loud or quiet, interior or exterior that become valuable." Limiting himself to just four mixer channels on each piece; precisely layering guitar and electronics, intently listening and manipulating either the intensity or the duration of each loop to yield unexpected interactions, moments of beauty as well as dissonance. "Flowers in Spring" emerges from fizzing distortion, hewing monolithic slabs of drone from the rock face while electronics push through fissures. "Fuck the Pigs" uses layers of noise as it metaphorically shifts into the depths of winter, arctic winds howling while the guitar scars like frost across a windowpane. In contrast "A Shepherd Stares Into the Sun" is pure light and heat, overwhelming in its sheer celestial enormity. "Flowers Variation" was born of nature"s microscopic subterranean movements in its primordial gloom and buzzing synth pads. Each track holds multitudes of micro sonic details coming together to form the album"s expansive ecosystem.

Wrekmeister Harmonies, the duo of JR Robinson and Esther Shaw, are sonic shape shifters with expansive ideas. From special performances to collaborations the band have worked with David Yow (Jesus Lizard) Ryley Walker, Ken Vandermark, Bruce Lamont, Mark Solotroff, Sanford Parker, Jamie Fennely (Mind Over Mirrors), The Body, Mary Lattimore, Olivia Block, Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu), Chris Brokaw, Fred Lonberg-Holm and Thor Harris (Swans). Inspired by artists such as Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, and Lou Reed, the duo approach each album as a new sonic adventure. Flowers in the Spring was born of deep, careful listening as much as composing. It explores music as a meditative practice with a focus on microtonal shifts and intersectional overtones. Robinson explains: "It"s the subtle movements within and without, the fine threads of sound, loud or quiet, interior or exterior that become valuable." Limiting himself to just four mixer channels on each piece; precisely layering guitar and electronics, intently listening and manipulating either the intensity or the duration of each loop to yield unexpected interactions, moments of beauty as well as dissonance. "Flowers in Spring" emerges from fizzing distortion, hewing monolithic slabs of drone from the rock face while electronics push through fissures. "Fuck the Pigs" uses layers of noise as it metaphorically shifts into the depths of winter, arctic winds howling while the guitar scars like frost across a windowpane. In contrast "A Shepherd Stares Into the Sun" is pure light and heat, overwhelming in its sheer celestial enormity. "Flowers Variation" was born of nature"s microscopic subterranean movements in its primordial gloom and buzzing synth pads. Each track holds multitudes of micro sonic details coming together to form the album"s expansive ecosystem.