Suche:a crash

Shir Khan marks the 37th release on his infamous Black Jukebox imprint with an all-killer balearic house record courtesy of mysterious Cécille-affiliated Cabin Luv Affair hot on the heels of his debut album which has seen support from Fouk, Laurent Garnier, Jamie Jones, Mr. V and Archie Hamilton.

Here, the masked master lays out 4 convivial cuts that sit in a particular pocket between House and Disco; one that has historically been occupied by the likes of Pepe Bradock, Damiano Von Eckert and Andrés. A spot classically characterised by beautifully imperfect, sample-heavy productions that are shot through with palpable depth and soul.

The record sets sail with ’Te Siento’. Polyrhythmic percussion bubbles across the surface of a deep sonic pool that forms a bed for vivacious drums, romantic vocals and a spine-tingling strings riff. A hazy opening clears out before the backbone of recording shines through; an uplifting 90s piano motif that's later picked up by Xylophone tones while a tight, truncated bass line punches away at the track's core.

'Dance With Us' then rolls out a beautifully seductive mood. Softly shifting synth chords, a loose-limbed drum break and hedonic vocals whip up a hot and heavy vibe that shines with a distinctly Chicago-tinged elegance.

'Time Is Killing Us' follows up with an immaculately executed, 'last tune' House groove. A gentle but powerful euphoria is generated with swooning strings, more giddy piano riffs and another robust drum track that all gather momentum as progress rolls on. An ecstasy-crescendo forms before it crashes and fizzles before the lights go on.

'My Head Like Shibuya Crossing' then follows up with a tightly-knitted Deep House cut. Buttery melodies adorn an effortlessly kinetic bass groove before a delicate Japanese vocal bleeds into focus. As is the case with much of the record, the track graciously segues through its chapters with melody at the fore-front before bringing the record to a conclusion.

Since first bonding over Slowdive at a Texas karaoke bar six years ago, musicians Uriel Avila and Jonathan Perez have grown trauma ray into Fort Worth's foremost flag bearer of crushing shoegaze. A five-piece rounded out by bassist Darren Baun, drummer Nicholas Bobotas, and guitarist Coleman Pruitt, the band's debut album, Chameleon, captures their evolving sound at an apex of majestic devastation. A fusion of downer hooks, gauzy melancholia, and bulldozer riffs, the album heaves and crashes across 50 minutes of stacked amplifier alchemy. Lyrically the songs trace similarly lofty and brooding terrain; Avila says "The theme is death. And a chameleon, like death, can shape-shift in and out our lives in different forms." Chameleon opens with "Ember," dreamy and distant, alternately anthemic and apocalyptic, defeated and deafening. Lead single "Bishop" perfectly encapsulates trauma ray's depth and dimension, ripping out of the gate with "the biggest, baddest, saddest wall of sound." Lyrics about being burnt at the stake and "tossed in the flame" float above a stop-start assault of precision distortion, eventually expanding into a lush, heavy, sorrowful end coda. "Spectre" is a mysterious, introspective dirge, envisioned as a "mellow, slowcore, Duster-thing," all feeling and heavy fuzz chords (with no lead guitar). Avila wrote it, "to be a hymnal" from the perspective of someone who won't let go - a ghost, an ex, a shadow self. Although the album is rich with subtleties, graceful lulls, and "breaths of air," the band's three guitar attack is its defining force, a power flexed to its peak on "Bardo." Perez's intentions were blunt: "I wanted to write a riff that was hard as fuck." The result is alternately mean and eerie, veering between noisy one string bends and surging headbang, mapping a middle ground between Unwound and early-Deftones. One of trauma ray's greatest gifts is their ability to make doomy, sledgehammer heaviness sound like an earworm, without production tricks or gimmicks: "Riff, verse, chorus, three guitar parts - that's all you need." This quality is particularly apparent on the title track, a churning slab of amplifier worship, swirling chords, and heavenly, defeated vocals about not belonging, shape-shifting, and death ("A twisted face / Void of attention / An empty space / In your reflection"). "U.S.D.D.O.S" closes the album, swaying across seven minutes of grey skied guitar and haunted voice, subtly thickening as it deepens. Feedback and shrapnel gradually begin raining down, like a satellite disintegrating in the atmosphere. Titled as an acronym after a poem by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño that loosely translates to "a dream within a dream," the melody softens, smears, and then disappears, slowly swallowed by the gravity of eternal descent. Chameleon is a masterpiece of craft, balance, melody, lyricism, and gravity, flexing a fresh vision of loud-quiet-loud architectures and the vertigo depths of blasted harmonics. From Slowdive to Nothing, to Hum and beyond, the band absorb and expand on their influences into a rare and dedicated alchemy. trauma ray's cinematic tempest is a gathering storm only just taking flight.

Since first bonding over Slowdive at a Texas karaoke bar six years ago, musicians Uriel Avila and Jonathan Perez have grown trauma ray into Fort Worth's foremost flag bearer of crushing shoegaze. A five-piece rounded out by bassist Darren Baun, drummer Nicholas Bobotas, and guitarist Coleman Pruitt, the band's debut album, Chameleon, captures their evolving sound at an apex of majestic devastation. A fusion of downer hooks, gauzy melancholia, and bulldozer riffs, the album heaves and crashes across 50 minutes of stacked amplifier alchemy. Lyrically the songs trace similarly lofty and brooding terrain; Avila says "The theme is death. And a chameleon, like death, can shape-shift in and out our lives in different forms." Chameleon opens with "Ember," dreamy and distant, alternately anthemic and apocalyptic, defeated and deafening. Lead single "Bishop" perfectly encapsulates trauma ray's depth and dimension, ripping out of the gate with "the biggest, baddest, saddest wall of sound." Lyrics about being burnt at the stake and "tossed in the flame" float above a stop-start assault of precision distortion, eventually expanding into a lush, heavy, sorrowful end coda. "Spectre" is a mysterious, introspective dirge, envisioned as a "mellow, slowcore, Duster-thing," all feeling and heavy fuzz chords (with no lead guitar). Avila wrote it, "to be a hymnal" from the perspective of someone who won't let go - a ghost, an ex, a shadow self. Although the album is rich with subtleties, graceful lulls, and "breaths of air," the band's three guitar attack is its defining force, a power flexed to its peak on "Bardo." Perez's intentions were blunt: "I wanted to write a riff that was hard as fuck." The result is alternately mean and eerie, veering between noisy one string bends and surging headbang, mapping a middle ground between Unwound and early-Deftones. One of trauma ray's greatest gifts is their ability to make doomy, sledgehammer heaviness sound like an earworm, without production tricks or gimmicks: "Riff, verse, chorus, three guitar parts - that's all you need." This quality is particularly apparent on the title track, a churning slab of amplifier worship, swirling chords, and heavenly, defeated vocals about not belonging, shape-shifting, and death ("A twisted face / Void of attention / An empty space / In your reflection"). "U.S.D.D.O.S" closes the album, swaying across seven minutes of grey skied guitar and haunted voice, subtly thickening as it deepens. Feedback and shrapnel gradually begin raining down, like a satellite disintegrating in the atmosphere. Titled as an acronym after a poem by Chilean writer Roberto Bolaño that loosely translates to "a dream within a dream," the melody softens, smears, and then disappears, slowly swallowed by the gravity of eternal descent. Chameleon is a masterpiece of craft, balance, melody, lyricism, and gravity, flexing a fresh vision of loud-quiet-loud architectures and the vertigo depths of blasted harmonics. From Slowdive to Nothing, to Hum and beyond, the band absorb and expand on their influences into a rare and dedicated alchemy. trauma ray's cinematic tempest is a gathering storm only just taking flight.

***BACK IN STOCK ON ORANGE CREAM VINYL!!!

On Fire is widely recognized as the canonic pinnacle of Galaxie 500's career. The artwork conveys this, with a low-angle shot of the band, looking up towards an amber sky. This record marked the realization of their signature sound. Nowhere is it clearer than on the album opener, "Blue Thunder," the closest a song can come to waves crashing on a beach in song form. Lyrically inconsequential, with a chorus composed entirely of "la"s, the track's power lies in a systematic build and break of intensity that reaches a Spector-like climax. It is the quintessential Galaxie 500 song, encapsulating all that was great about the band. With the Boston trio once again utilizing the bizarre genius of producer Mark Kramer, On Fire sounds like anything but. The guitars are warm blankets enwrapping Dean Wareham's vocals, percolated by the open percussion of Damon Krukowski and anchored by the emotion-laden bass of Naomi Yang. Songs like "Snowstorm," "Strange," and "Decomposing Trees" have an endless quality, without beginnings or ends, but rather frozen somewhere on a spectrum of melancholy. For the first time since its original pressing, On Fire is available again on vinyl. Cut by vinyl ace Kevin Gray from a remaster by Kramer and Alan Douches, the album sounds more vibrant than ever, and Galaxie 500 exists again as one of the most enrapturing and glorious bands to emerge from the underground in the past 25 years.

SITW’s fourth studio album is a satirical celebration of mistakes. A joyous lambasting of everyone and everything that’s wrong in the world, against the real-time backdrop of global uncertainty, corruption and political unrest.

A London Charivari. Rough Music. A gleeful old-fashioned cancelling. A Chaunter’s delight. 14th Century recording demons collecting mistakes in a sack. Women mugging rich merchants. Nettles being pissed on. Shit food at Lent. A terrible plan. An undoing. The aftermath of a car crash. Catching people doing something they shouldn’t. Nursery rhymes reimagined as death threats. Behind the sarcastic acerbic delivery, Nicola Kearey and Ian Carter convey thoughtful, essential interpretations encouraging us all to check ourselves, through the multi-layered music of cities through time.

This is about as far away from pastoral folk music as you can get.

In their typical wry city-weary style, a beady eye is cast over those committing wrongs in plain sight, with Kearey narrating a series of tales of people fucking up, or being fucked up, with some brief respite in Lavender - one of London’s oldest street melodies - the album being named after the 14th Century story of Tittivilus, the recording demon, who collects scribes’ mistakes (pokes) and the idle chatter of the “liars with their hairy tongues” congregation.

Despite this seriousness, the album’s working-class dry gallows humour carries a stoic “if you don’t laugh you’ll cry” feeling amongst the corruption, scandals and barefaced lies we all observe on a daily basis, with a warning that “only you can fix your deficits” and “it’s your words and deeds that matter…and let me tell you, they speak volumes”.

The core of the record imagines a sound of traditional London music, where the musical continuum is unbroken by the population decimated by the world wars, or by gentrification and social cleansing that has forced communities apart, and yet absorbs all the influences of all the communities that call London their home.

Carter and Kearey attempted sessions at The George Tavern, Whitechapel, and in Spitalfields, at Denis Severs’ House, and a restored weaver’s townhouse, carrying the aesthetic of the record in their heads as they moved from location to location, before settling into an old factory building and their own workshop. The resulting sparse and economical sound is harsher, more present, more essentially them. It is a mighty haranguing that demands your attention.

The deluxe edition of Ministry's "Twitch" highlights their early industrial sound with tracks like "Just Like You" and "Over The Shoulder." It includes remixes and extended versions such as "All Day Remix" and "Over The Shoulder (12” Version)." This edition offers a deeper dive into the band's innovative and brooding style.

Aufgepasst, hier kommt nicht einfach "nur" ein neues Album, sondern eine Hommage an den wilden 80er Oi! und Streetpunk-Underground der etwas anderen Art: Sunny Bastards proudly presents: "BELIN EI PIAZII" der legendären, italienischen Kultband KLASSE KRIMINALE! 1980 von Marco Belestrino gegründet, haben sich die Italiener genau mit dieser Ära und den Wurzeln der italienisch-europäischen Skinhead- und Punkbewegung auf ihrer neuen Scheibe befasst und 15 "lost songs" von berühmt-berüchtigten oder heute nur noch wenigen geläufigen Bands neu eingespielt: Rohe Diamanten, Spaß, kämpferische Rebellion- und Hass-Hymnen sowie obskure Beiträge von Bands, wie den Herberts, Total Crash, Gangland oder Shellshock, die zusammen mit Klasse Kriminale damals die Strassen unsicher gemacht haben und im Proberaum oder auf DIY-Konzerten schnell zum Soundtrack einer rebellischen Jugend wurden. Klasse Kriminale hat diese bislang nie veröffentlichten Songs ganz im Spirit und Stil dieser Anfangstage aufgenommen und verbinden mit dieser Zeit jede Menge Erinnerungen, die auf 4 Seiten im Inlay-Sheet in englisch und italienisch auch sehr persönlich beschrieben werden! Und wenn vom Plattenteller dazu noch Lieder wie "Ziga Zaga Oi! Oi! Oi!" oder "Skin della Lanterna" die Boxen beschallen, kann man nicht nur erahnen, wie es damals war...großartige Konzeptscheibe, inkl einem neu eingespielten eigenen Song "Keep the Faith", der uns wieder ins Jetzt und Hier beamt und ein würdiger Abschluss des Albums ist! Vinyl klassich schwarz oder clear mit der italienischen Tricolore als Splatter plus zwei Inserts

Aufgepasst, hier kommt nicht einfach "nur" ein neues Album, sondern eine Hommage an den wilden 80er Oi! und Streetpunk-Underground der etwas anderen Art: Sunny Bastards proudly presents: "BELIN EI PIAZII" der legendären, italienischen Kultband KLASSE KRIMINALE! 1980 von Marco Belestrino gegründet, haben sich die Italiener genau mit dieser Ära und den Wurzeln der italienisch-europäischen Skinhead- und Punkbewegung auf ihrer neuen Scheibe befasst und 15 "lost songs" von berühmt-berüchtigten oder heute nur noch wenigen geläufigen Bands neu eingespielt: Rohe Diamanten, Spaß, kämpferische Rebellion- und Hass-Hymnen sowie obskure Beiträge von Bands, wie den Herberts, Total Crash, Gangland oder Shellshock, die zusammen mit Klasse Kriminale damals die Strassen unsicher gemacht haben und im Proberaum oder auf DIY-Konzerten schnell zum Soundtrack einer rebellischen Jugend wurden. Klasse Kriminale hat diese bislang nie veröffentlichten Songs ganz im Spirit und Stil dieser Anfangstage aufgenommen und verbinden mit dieser Zeit jede Menge Erinnerungen, die auf 4 Seiten im Inlay-Sheet in englisch und italienisch auch sehr persönlich beschrieben werden! Und wenn vom Plattenteller dazu noch Lieder wie "Ziga Zaga Oi! Oi! Oi!" oder "Skin della Lanterna" die Boxen beschallen, kann man nicht nur erahnen, wie es damals war...großartige Konzeptscheibe, inkl einem neu eingespielten eigenen Song "Keep the Faith", der uns wieder ins Jetzt und Hier beamt und ein würdiger Abschluss des Albums ist! Vinyl klassich schwarz oder clear mit der italienischen Tricolore als Splatter plus zwei Inserts

Die schwedischen Groove-Metal-Legenden Transport League melden sich ihrem explosiven neuen Album 'We Are Satan's People' zurück! Auf ihrem 11. Studioalbum besinnen sie sich tief auf ihre Wurzeln und entfesseln einen Sound, der sowohl nostalgisch als auch ungemein modern ist. 'We Are Satan's People' ist absolutes Must Have für alle Fans von Pantera, Clutch, COC, Mustasch, White Zombie oder Prong.

Die schwedischen Groove-Metal-Legenden Transport League melden sich ihrem explosiven neuen Album 'We Are Satan's People' zurück! Auf ihrem 11. Studioalbum besinnen sie sich tief auf ihre Wurzeln und entfesseln einen Sound, der sowohl nostalgisch als auch ungemein modern ist. 'We Are Satan's People' ist absolutes Must Have für alle Fans von Pantera, Clutch, COC, Mustasch, White Zombie oder Prong.

The sophomore effort from Gray/Smith refines their petroleum-based, hard-lullaby sound with a decidedly dusty precision. To call this pair's brand of country-rock détournement "cosmic" would be too breezy: L. Gray and Rob Smith prefer to stare into sunken depths, channeling their recondite affections for lay-by mauve zones and red-dirt guitar wanderings. Formed in the outer-edges of Kings and Richmond counties circa 2020, Gray/Smith is something of an East-Coast involution. L. Gray (guitar and vocals) and Rob Smith (drums, guitar and vocals) are both trusty veterans of "band's bands" like Pigeons (Soft Abuse), No-Neck Blues Band (Revenant, Locust), Rhyton (Thrill Jockey), and The Suntanama (Drag City), freewheeling groups known for mining from polyglot sources: rough-hewn folk and the spiritual avant-garde, bargain-bin hard rock and and collector's-choice psychedelia alike. On their first, self-released LP Gray/Smith, serendipitously recorded at Gary's Electric at the top of 2021, the pair trained their assured chops onto the great American song-form, honing a murky but tight approach that variously cribs "urban cowboy" and finger-picked primitivism. A string of cryptic appearances soon followed, including a short-lived residency at a now-shuttered vodka dive; a micro-tour with Coloradan songstress Josephine Foster; and a series of backyard and barroom gigs sharing stages with compatriots like Stella Kola, Blues Ambush, Samara Lubelski, and Wednesday Knudsen. Heels in the Aisle is the slipshod, burnt-out, mid-'70s unter-prog comedown to their debut's backwoods, bushy-tailed, early-'70s, country-rock meanderings_expect more unrestrained riffs, artful studio wizardry, and worn-down introspection. Joining the ranks of bloodshot-eyed, blues-rock medleys à la Canned Heat's "Parthenogenesis" and Grand Funk's "Into The Sun," "The SDSPS" is the nearly side-length opening cut, an expanded song-cycle condensing and riffing on the themes of their debut. "Help Me" ventriloquizes Pomona College outlaw Kris Kristofferson's slow-roaring ballad of libidinal woe. On the flip side, "Verrazano Tile" and the title track pay heed to lower bays of Staten Island, while their arrangement of the traditional Zimbabwean tune "Guabi Guabi" is a bright Dead/Feat-like jaunt with blissed-out wah-wah pay-off. "Gaslight Boulevard" is lean, mean, and eight-beers-in space rock, and the closing track "Kekule's Ring" is a slack-jawed, wistful crash back down to earth. All this, packaged in a luxe, expertly-printed sleeve photographed by downtown artist Lary 7 and designed by Eric Wrenn (Sophie's Oil of Every Pearl's Un-Insides).

France-based, prog-rock power trio LIZZARD are out to reclaim the creative, collaborative energy that has fueled them for over a decade. On `Mesh', the band's fifth full length album, LIZZARD capture the energetic, lightning-in-a-bottle optimism of the late `90s post-punk/art-rock scene and reinvigorate it as something empowering, inspiring and simmering with potential. Recorded by the band in the abandoned factory they use as their creative base and produced again by now long-time friend and collaborator Peter Junge, `Mesh' is LIZZARD unleashing the raw, spontaneous might of their pent up live sound through the production precision of their studio experience. As such, themes of duality and control, whether it's regaining it or letting it go, run right through the album. Resounding with Elwell's inimitable, thundering drums and a barrage of colossal riffs, `Black Sheep' explores the dichotomy of body and mind, of black and white, that we all wrestle with on a daily basis whilst the mellow polyrhythms and plaintive melodies of `Mad Hatters' ask pressing questions of the people who are supposedly in charge of society. Epic album closer `The Beholder' captures the reinvigorated LIZZARD at their bracing best; bittersweet guitar refrains are bolstered by Will Knox's signature driving basslines and crashing half-time grooves as frontman Ricou considers the great cycle of life from his own perspective. Testament to the band's formidable compositional prowess, `The Beholder' ends as it starts, a closed loop. With only Ricou's playful, pithy refrain of "What goes around, comes around" left ringing in our ears, LIZZARD masterfully frame `Mesh' as both a poignant conclusion to the last chapter and as a bright new beginning.

France-based, prog-rock power trio LIZZARD are out to reclaim the creative, collaborative energy that has fueled them for over a decade. On `Mesh', the band's fifth full length album, LIZZARD capture the energetic, lightning-in-a-bottle optimism of the late `90s post-punk/art-rock scene and reinvigorate it as something empowering, inspiring and simmering with potential. Recorded by the band in the abandoned factory they use as their creative base and produced again by now long-time friend and collaborator Peter Junge, `Mesh' is LIZZARD unleashing the raw, spontaneous might of their pent up live sound through the production precision of their studio experience. As such, themes of duality and control, whether it's regaining it or letting it go, run right through the album. Resounding with Elwell's inimitable, thundering drums and a barrage of colossal riffs, `Black Sheep' explores the dichotomy of body and mind, of black and white, that we all wrestle with on a daily basis whilst the mellow polyrhythms and plaintive melodies of `Mad Hatters' ask pressing questions of the people who are supposedly in charge of society. Epic album closer `The Beholder' captures the reinvigorated LIZZARD at their bracing best; bittersweet guitar refrains are bolstered by Will Knox's signature driving basslines and crashing half-time grooves as frontman Ricou considers the great cycle of life from his own perspective. Testament to the band's formidable compositional prowess, `The Beholder' ends as it starts, a closed loop. With only Ricou's playful, pithy refrain of "What goes around, comes around" left ringing in our ears, LIZZARD masterfully frame `Mesh' as both a poignant conclusion to the last chapter and as a bright new beginning.

Die umjubelelten, schrill-bunten Rockerinnen von The Hot Damn! sind mit einem Paukenschlag zurück und veröffentlichen ihre elektrisierende neue Single Can You Hear Me Now? zusammen mit der Ankündigung ihres mit Spannung erwarteten Debütalbums Dancing on the Milky Way, das am Freitag, den 27. September 2024, über Fat Earth Records erscheinen wird. Die vierköpfige britische Rockband wird als das ,farbenfrohe Chaos" des Rock bezeichnet und bringt mit jedem Song, jedem Video und einer energischen Live-Show nach der anderen wieder Farbe in die Musikszene. Mit knackigen Riffs und wilden Harmonien bringen The Hot Damn! dich zum Tanzen, bevor du es merkst. Die vier temperamentvollen Damen, die unter anderem von Kerrang!, Planet Rock und BBC Radio 2, BBC Radio 6 und Radio BOB gelobt wurden, sind keine Unbekannten in der Musikszene. entstand die Band u.a. aus der Asche von The Amorettes und Tequila Mockingbyrd und besteht aus den Talenten von Gill Montgomery (The Amorettes), Josie O'Toole (Tequila Mockingbyrd), Laurie Buchanan (Aaron Buchanan and the Cult Classics) und Lzi Hayes (New Device/Sophie Lloyd Band).The Hot Damn! aus Marlow, Buckinghamshire, mögen es laut, aber sie machen nicht nur mit ihrer Musik auf sich aufmerksam, sondern auch auf ein Thema, das ihnen am Herzen liegt - den Gehörschutz. Da die Band erkannt hat, wie wichtig die Gesundheit des Gehörs sowohl für das Publikum als auch für die Musiker ist, hat sie sich dazu verpflichtet, bei all ihren Konzerten Einweg-Ohrstöpsel anzubieten. Neben einzelnen Headline-Gigs reisen The Hot Damn! im November 2024 als Support von D-A-D durch Deutschland um ihr hart rockendes Werk zu präsentieren. CD mit zwei Akustik-Bonustracks, LP als Sunshine Yellow Vinyl!

Perhaps best described as a pioneer of the underground experimental scene, the signature of Jørgen Teller on the musical landscape of Denmark traces back to the late 1970’s. Sprung out of a whirlpool of post-punk and art school ideas, Teller has relentlessly been chiseling away on the constrictions of music in various bands, collaborations and solo projects ever since. Searching out its farthest outposts - be it free jazz, noise or acousmatic music - Teller has strived towards an approach to music without rules, often by way of improvisation and usually with the aid of electric guitar.

This album is based on a live performance held at the Inter Arts Center in Malmö in early 2022, where Teller performed a semi-improvised piece in homage to the poet Poul Borum, whom he had worked with in the mid-90’s closely before Borum’s death in 1996.

As a composer, Teller relies on a set of “basic choices” that becomes a “precise point of departure” - where he can then go against his “good knowing” of the science, trends and different schools of music and go straight into his own instincts as a performer. For this performance, he used pre- recorded material of three rhythm boxes (all out of sync), timbales and sessions on Erica synths.

In dialogue with the label, Teller has focused on extracting the recording of the rhythm boxes and timbales alone, emphasizing the tension between the rhythms. With minimalist drum sequences that could easily be placed in a proto-techno context, and the whooshing of what might be an ancient rhombus instrument, there is a feeling of a primitive presence to Teller’s rhythmic excursions. A throwback to the spiritual realms of a wordless society fighting the demons of chance.

Occasionally pierced by stark industrial drum crashes and rattling post-punk percussion, it also conjures echoes from the darker side of the 1980s. In citing Borum as its inspiration, Teller shares that he channels the poet’s energy and their shared love of “noisy stuff and darkness”.
But the pace can also go somewhere close to breakbeat on track B2, where a whirlwind of rhythmic elements clash into a deranged deconstructed club tune.

The album also features a remix by a fellow colleague of the acousmatic community; the composer Jacob Riis. On the closing track B3, Riis quietly manipulates and balances the elements of Teller’s recordings and gently releases them into a contemplative pool of static.

"A Music from the Netflix Film THE DIRT A 14 Classics + 4 New Songs recorded for the Soundtrack A Including “The Dirt (Est. 1981)” Featuring Machine Gun Kelly

2LP Gatefold Jacket on Black Vinyl"

REISSUED!!! Received an 8.1 rating from Pitchfork. "Sadly, many will hear Chris Corsano & Bill Orcutt's latest LP, Made Out of Sound, as 'not-jazz,' though it would be more aptly described as 'not-not-jazz.' In a better world, it would warrant above-the-fold reviews in Downbeat, or an appearance on David Sanborn's late-night show (if someone would only give it back to him). More likely, we can hope for a haiku review on Byron Coley's Twitter timeline to sufficiently connect the various improvised terrains trodden by this long-time duo—but if you've been able to listen past the overmodulated icepick fidelity of Harry Pussy, it should surprise you not an iota that Orcutt's style is rooted as much in the fractal melodies of Trane and Taylor as it is in Delta syrup or Tin Pan Alley glitz. As for Corsano, well, it may seem daft to call this particular record 'jazz' (because duh, it has a drummer), but to me Corsano is beyond jazz, almost beyond music, his ambidextrous, octopoid technique grappling many stylistic levers and spraying a torrent of light from every direction. Corsano's ferocity has elevated many 'mere' improv records to transcendence, but here he's crafted his polyrhythms within more narrative channels, bringing to mind his 'mannered' playing in the lamented Flower-Corsano duo. It's not 'groove' playing precisely, but it follows many grooves simultaneously, much like Orcutt's own melodic musings—which is why they're so naturally lock-in-key here. Which maybe makes it all the more surprising that Made Out of Sound was in fact recorded in different rooms on different coasts at different times, and stitched together by Orcutt on his desktop. Corsano recorded the drums in Ithaca, NY, and (as Orcutt states), 'I didn't edit them at all. I overdubbed two guitar tracks, panned left/right. I'd listen to the drums a couple times, pick a tuning, then improvise a part, thinking of the first track as backing and the second as the 'lead', though those are pretty fluid terms. I was watching the waveforms as I was recording, so I could see when a crescendo was coming or when to bring it down.' Fluidity ties the tracks together. With a little more groove and a little less around-the-beat maneuvering, one could almost hear the boiling harmonic layers as Miles-oid in 'Man Carrying Thing,' but with new-found Sharrockian modalities, Corsano accentuating the tumbling nature of the falling notes. The Sharrock vein continues with 'How to Cook a Wolf,' its Blind Willie-esque melodic simplicity and repetition extrapolated 360-style in a repetitive descending riff that falls into Cippolina-isms (by way of Verlaine ) until the end crashes upon the shore. Much like Orcutt's last solo album, Odds Against Tomorrow, there's a gentler, almost pastoral flow to some tracks ('Some Tennessee Jar,' 'A Port in Air,' 'Thirteen Ways of Looking') that calls to mind the mixolydian swamplands of Lonnie Liston Smith—but unlike Odds , other tracks ('The Thing Itself') smash that same lyricism into overdriven, multi-dimensional melodic clumps that push several vector envelopes at once in an Interstellar Space vein. With the help of Corsano, Orcutt has managed to slither even further out of the noise/improv pigeonhole lazy listeners/writers keep trying to shove him into. Looking at the back cover of Made Out of Sound , we should not see Orcutt hurling a guitar into the air with post-punk bravado, Corsano toiling behind him in the engine room—we should witness an instrument levitating from his hands, rising on invisible major-key tendrils of melody, fired by percussion, spiraling into an invisible event horizon..."—Tom Carter

Hassan Abou Alam is next to step up to the unconventional Nerve Collect label with six tracks of futuristic club-ready chaos. The finely crafted EP arrives in August and comes on 12" vinyl and via all digital platforms.

Hassan Abou Alam has established himself as one of Egypt's most innovative underground musicians over the last 10+ years. His music is a meeting of disparate worlds - organic and synthetic designs, digital and analogue tools, the traditional and the futuristic, and it has come on the likes of YUKU, Rhythm Section, Banoffee Pies and Casa Voyager. His versatile sound pulls apart existing genres and reconstructs them as something entirely new.

Opener '3asabi' is a stylish sonic assault with thumping rhythms and trippy oscillations that will get any dance floor bouncing. It's fun yet functional, serious yet seductive and 'Basha' Ft. ZIAD ZAZA, Ismail Nosrat & Aly B is another kinetic fusion of hand claps and complex drum funk, Egyptian vocal gymnastics and punchy bass. 'Ghalat' has lurching drums and plunging bass driving on beneath mangled synths, odd vocalisations and percussive splatters drawn from a unique sound palette. The drilling low ends of 'Khalsana' Ft ZIAD ZAZA are offset by fluttering percussive details up top while spare but booming kicks shake every bone in your body and the bassline devastates.

There is no let up on 'Mesh Mafhoom' which is a ritualistic workout with moments of melancholic synth soul shining through the jumble of tin-pot percussion and crashing hits. Closer 'Zein' is more body-popping brilliance that channels ancient spirits into warped synths and rhythms so complex they melt the mind.
Hassan Abou Alam's blurring of the lines between the real and the imagined is second to none on this EP. It's a sub-heavy mix of the human voice, machine-made sounds and inventive rhythms that make for something new, weird and wonderful.

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements - punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones - are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins - Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk - weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act - with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage - and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

FOR FANS OF: Soundgarden, Foo Fighters, Queens Of The Stone Age, Silverchair, Black Sabbath
Wie sie selbst zugeben, gab es eine Zeit, in der es unwahrscheinlich schien, dass Torus überhaupt hier stehen würden, um der Welt ihr Debütalbum
vorzustellen. Das ist an sich schon eine überraschende erste Aussage, die aus dem Mund von Frontmann und Band-Mastermind Alfie Glass kommt,
während er und seine Bandkollegen im Wohnzimmer seines Hauses außerhalb von Milton Keynes sitzen. Jeder Schritt, den Torus bisher
unternommen haben, wurde mit Interesse und Beifall bedacht - bereits vor der von der Kritik gelobten Debüt-EP Sail" schwärmten die wichtigsten
Kritiker wie Kerrang! und Classic Rock von ihrer Marke des Null-Bullshit-Hardrocks", der gigantische Riffs und dicke, monströse Grooves" in der
Tradition von Rockgrößen wie Kyuss, Queens Of The Stone Age und Smashing Pumpkins bietet. Wenn Ihnen der Name Alfie Glass noch vertrauter
vorkommt, liegt das wahrscheinlich daran, dass Black Sabbath-Gitarrenlegende Tony Iommi die Fähigkeiten des Sechssaiters in der TV-Talentshow
Guitar Star lobte, als Glass gerade mal 12 Jahre alt war. Torus begann als Ein-Mann-Schlafzimmerprojekt, wurde aber schon bald durch den Bassisten
Harry Quinn (2020) und den Schlagzeuger Jack Orr (Anfang 2022) ergänzt. Trotz ihrer unterschiedlichen musikalischen Hintergründe und Einflüsse, die
von Wüstenrock über psychedelischen Prog bis hin zu Punk reichen, verbindet das Trio der gemeinsame Wunsch, Musik zu machen, die die Köpfe zum
Klingen bringt und die Füße bewegt. "Wir kommen alle aus verschiedenen Ecken, haben aber eine gemeinsame Vision für die Musik, die wir schreiben
wollen", nickt Orr.