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Mark Korven's original soundtrack for 'The Lighthouse,' starring Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe, marks his second collaboration with director Robert Eggers (The Witch).
"Robert Eggers and I were rather like the two wickies that went insane in The Lighthouse, musically speaking. We travelled to some very dark harmonic and textural places. We both enjoy not just breaking the rules, but blowing them to smithereens. The spirit of experimentation was always present."
-Composer Mark Korven


"Composer Mark Korven and I developed a shorthand working together on The Witch. This made collaborating on The Lighthouse an incredibly enjoyable process. But it was not without its many challenges. Originally, I wanted a score with no strings at all. The Witch soundtrack was so string-prominent that I wanted a full departure. I only wanted horns, pipes, conch shells, concertina - things that sounded like the sea - or the lighthouse station's ominous foghorn. It would be a minimalist aleatoric soundtrack with a nod to sea shanties and ancient Greek music. As Mark and I embraced the sound of big brass sections, it quickly became a maximalist aleatoric soundtrack.

How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)' is a new advance single on the album. It’s an instrumental cover of Marvin Gaye's 1964 Motown classic. This reading of the song has a shuffle groove and features uber rhythms from Brand New Heavies' guitarist Simon Bartholomew. As Bangs put it, "we wanted to put a different slant on the tune, small combo vibe with a Wurlitzer piano lead. We were thinking of getting a vocalist to sing the tune but it's been done that way so many times.

An absolutely legendary album from Lebanon by Issam Hajali’s group Ferkat Al Ard, “Oghneya” stands out as one of the great musical gems of the Arab world. A groundbreaking release from 1978 that represents the meeting point of Arab, jazz, folk and Brazilian styles with the talent of Ziad Rahbani, who did the albums arrangements. Filled with a variety of sounds and genres, from Baroque Pop to Psych-Folk to flashes of Bossa Nova, Tropicalia and MPB, “Oghneya” is like if Arthur Verocai took a trip to Beirut in the 70’s to record an album.

In 2015 we heard Ferkat Al Ard’s music for the first time, a Lebanese trio compromised of Issam Hajali, Toufic Farroukh and Elia Saba. It was a stunningly unique release that blends traditional Arabic elements, jazz and Brazilian rhythms hand in hand with poetic-yet-politically engaged lyrics. The band was active in the left-wing movement of Lebanon of the time and they communicated their political ideas candidly through their songwriting.

In our mind the idea was to see whether Issam was interested in re-releasing “Oghneya.” He was not opposed to it, but also made it clear that it was not his priority for a first project. He suggested we start with his first album, before Ferkat Al Ard was formed, “Mouasalat Ila Jacad El Ard,” which was recorded in 1977 in Paris together with his friend Roger Fakhr (whose work we have been privileged to re-release in the meantime as well.) “Mouasalat Ila Jacad El Ard” is melancholic, stripped-down, guitar-based folk intertwined with jazz-fused breaks, and the unique sound of the santour glistens through. While the music is very accessible, some song structures are rather atypical, neglecting common patterns of verse, hook, verse, hook. The lyrics mostly trace back to the poetic work of Palestinian author Samih El Kasem, with one song also written by Issam, who composed the music for the whole album.

We re-released Issam’s “Mouasalat Ila Jacad El Ard” in 2019 to a great reception, with positive reviews all over the place and an ongoing appreciation for the album. This meant it was time for us to undertake an “Oghneya” re-release again!

If you compare “Mouasalat Ila Jacad El Ard” and “Oghneya,” one apparent distinction is the strong Brazilian influence in the music. Issam Hajali explained that you can already hear traces of this influence on his debut, but it’s “Oghneya” where this musical relationship really peaks. Lebanon and Brazil have had a strong connection for nearly a century due to the continuous flow of immigrants from one country to the other. Today, Brazil has the largest Lebanese diaspora in the world, the “Brasilibanês”. The migratory route was not a one-way street, however, and some Lebanese returned to their home country, taking recordings of the music they learned to love in Brazil with them. They were followed by Brazilian musicians who visited primarily Beirut during the 1960’s and the first half of the 1970’s, just like many other musicians from around the world. In these years between the independence and the beginning of the civil war, Beirut became even more of a cultural center and regional hub than it already was.

Bossa Nova, at that time, was one of the defining sounds of Brazilian popular music. Issam Hajali remembers hearing it at a bar in Beirut’s Hamra district in 1974, which hosted musicians from Brazil playing the occasional gig. When Issam had returned from Paris in 1976 he got to know Ziad Rahbani, son of Fairouz, who had a shared passion with Issam for a lot of things, among them Brazilian music. Issam showed him some of the tracks he was working on, and Ziad agreed to help with arranging. The music that evolved from this cooperation between Ferkat Al Ard and Ziad Rahbani’s arrangement is, to put it lightly, outstanding. Issam’s singing is embedded into the uniquely beautiful string arrangements backed by the band’s poignant, swinging groove. The lyrics of the songs on “Oghneya” are based on poems by Mahmoud Darwish, Samih Al Qasem and Tawfiq Ziad, three pillars of Palestinian poetry within the last century, and their influence on “Oghneya” was itself a strong political statement during the Lebanese war.

“Oghneya” was eventually released in 1978 by the band themselves on cassette tapes. Finding a blank tape that fit the playing time proved to be impossible during the war so they needed to open up the case of each cassette to physically cut down the tape and customize it to the playing time. The album was well received, though some cultural critics deemed it too “occidental” in its sound. While the cassette was circulating, Ziad Rahbani started a label called Zida, together with Khatchik Mardirian. They decided to help the band with a re-release on vinyl in 1979, a year after “Oghneya” was originally released on cassette.

Sadly, there are two tracks from the original release of “Oghneya” that did not make it onto the reissue. “Ghfyara Ghaza” was replaced by the song “Juma’a 6 Hziran.” while “Huloul” was taken off without a replacement. This happened as a precondition from the band for this reissue to happen. We would have loved to include all tracks, but the decision ranged between having either a reissue like the one we put out or no reissue at all. Thus, an easy choice for us.

As always both vinyl and CD come with an extensive booklet with an interview with Issam as well as unseen photos from the recording sessions.

Available on Double Vinyl LP, rammed with super funk smashers from the Queens of Funk

Dark Entries presents a reissue of Shawn Pittman’s 1989 Dreams, an obscure and highly sought-after private press gem produced and written by Art Forest. An undersung figure in the development of the late 80’s Detroit techno sound, Forest collaborated with, produced, or penned material for many of the key players in the movement, including Inner City, Suburban Knight, and the Belleville Three themselves (on Kreem’s “Triangle of Love”). This reissue gives Forest’s own productions some shine while providing a thrill for both dancers and collectors.

Dreams features two songs, both written and produced by Art Forest and featuring Shawn Pittman on vocals. The A-side contains two mixes of “Dreams”, a smooth R&B/modern soul number driven by Pittman’s vocal. While the song is undeniably radio-friendly, it contains some of the hallmarks of the Detroit techno sound – sparse arrangement, lush reverb, and booming bass. On the B-side, we are treated to two different versions of the clubbier “I’m Losing Control”. The original mix leans towards boogie/freestyle, with syncopated 909 beats and sassy synth vamps, and wouldn’t sound out of place next to Forest’s work with Inner City. The Extended-Bass-ment Club Mix strips things down and dubs them out, leaving us with shards of bass synth, brooding strings, and Pittman’s vocals eerily warped to the edge of recognition; a perfect late-night warehouse anthem.

All songs were remastered by George Horn at Fantasy Studios. The sleeve is a replica of the original cover art. Also included is a 2-sided postcard with lyrics and photos of Art.

Between the late 70s and the early 80s, pop music was in a transitional phase. After a return to the roots of punk, rock was morphing into new wave, while disco was rapidly declining and the electronic revolution, already on the rise, was ushering in the transition from analog to digital. This period also saw the emergence and relatively brief flowering of a commercially dominant style that mixed soul influences (especially Stevie Wonder and Ear th Wind & Fi re) , folk/pop songwriting and jazz sensibilities in equal measure, creating a hybrid easy on the ears but also emotionally and musically rich. It was the style represented by artists like Christopher Cross, Michael McDonald, Gino Vannelli and Kenny Loggins, who were all influenced by black music. They belonged to a larger trend that took place in all major music producing countries, including Italy where, like so many other things, the style was not merely imported or copied, but reshaped into a specifically local version based on the nation's tastes and cultural traditions. In Italy, a soulful and sophisticated approach to pop music was embraced not only by established names like Mina, Alan Sorrenti and Loredana Berté, but also, and perhaps most importantly, by an entire generation of writers, arrangers and musicians who had grown up listening to early fusion, to Steely Dan's refined recordings, and to Quincy Jones's productions. So, with this compilation we hope to give new exposure to artists and songs that, despite having moderate or little success when first released, must be regarded as among the creative peaks of Italian pop music. "Paisà Got Soul" features pop veterans Peppino Di Capri, Mario Lavezzi and Alberto Radius alongside atypical singer-songwriters (Enzo Carella, Enzo Cervo, Gino D'Eliso), Italo-disco heroes (Stefano Pulga), international hit composers (Beppe Cantarelli, who has co-written for Aretha Franklin and Mariah Carey), Brazilian-born naturalized Italians (Jim Porto) and complete unknowns (Franco Camassa, I Ricci, Massimo Stella).It brings together little gems that in most cases are no longer available on the market, or only available in their original and now very rare vinyl format. We believe they all deserve to be rediscovered today, partly because of the recently renewed interest in "yacht rock", as this music style has been retrospectively named, and partly because they provide further evidence that Italian artists rework international music styles in creative and original ways.

Compiled and conceived by David Nerattini partnered by Pierpaolo De Sanctis

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Second Sub Pop album by acclaimed UK act TV Priest finds them building on the
post-punk of their early material and maturing into a powerhouse of tense, politically
caustic, and thoughtful rock music.
Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made
their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were
established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their
political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy
on its wearer’s shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. “A lot of it did feel
like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length,” says vocalist Charlie
Drinkwater. “I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take
a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the
opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest.”
Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued
press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous
outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single ‘House of York’
followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to
Sub Pop for their debut album. When ‘Uppers’ arrived in the height of a global
pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its “dystopian doublespeak,”
but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic
Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of
tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the
personal and professional landmark of its release felt “both colossal and minuscule”
dampened by the inability to share it live. “It was a real gratification and really
cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental
health,” admits Drinkwater. “I wasn’t prepared, and I hadn’t necessarily expected it to
reach as many people as it did.”
As such, ‘My Other People’ maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking
advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using ‘Saintless’ (the closing
song from ‘Uppers’) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting
lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as
a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health.
“Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would
say, particularly well,” he says. “There was a lot of things that had happened to
myself and my family that were quite troubling moments. Despite that I do think the
record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders
for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in.”
“It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something
that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful,” agrees Bueth. “Brutality and frustration are
only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the
time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening.”
This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and
an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to ‘My Other People’, a
record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you’re
welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is
a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or
any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

A spellbinding tribute from one multi-faceted artist to another. New York-based artist Aki Onda (b. 1967) conjured a transduction to the Korean multi-media pioneer Nam June Paik (1932-2006). Aki himself describes the project:

“Nam June’s Spirit Was Speaking to Me occurred purely by chance. In 2010, I was spending four days at Nam June Paik Art Center in South Korea for a series of performances and had plenty of free time to wander. The building was packed with Paik’s artwork and related material. I have always felt a close kinship with him as an artist, and so it was a great opportunity to immerse myself in his works and ephemera.

It was that night I made the first contact, via a hand-held radio in a hotel room in Seoul. It was literally out of the blue. Scanning through the stations, I stumbled upon what sounded like a submerged voice and I began to record it in fascination. I concluded this was Paik’s spirit reaching out to me.

The project continued to grow organically as I kept channeling Paik’s spirit over long distance and receiving cryptic broadcasts/messages. The series of séances, conducted in different cities across the globe, began in Seoul in 2010, and continued in Köln, Germany in 2012, Wrocław, Poland in 2013, and Lewisburg, USA in 2014. The original recordings were captured by the same radio which has a tape recorder, with almost no editing, save for some minimal slicing and mastering.

Paik is known for his association with shamanism, a practice that constantly surfaces in his works all through his career. In an interview, he stated “In Korea, diverse forms of shamanism are strongly remained. Even though I have created my work unconsciously, the most inspiring thing in my work came from Korean female shaman Mudang.” Paik himself was a master shaman and vividly used shaman rituals and symbols for staging his performances and installations.

These recordings also became a way for me to explore the mythic form of radio—a medium which is full of mysteries. The transmissions captured may be “secret broadcasts” on anonymous radio stations. There are in fact hundreds of those stations around the world, although the numbers dwindle as clandestine messages can now be sent via encrypted digital channels. Some of these stations were likely for military use or espionage or relics of the Cold War. But many others continue without apparent explanation. These are just some of the questions that remain unanswered.”

Commissioned in 2017 by documenta 14's radio program “Every Time A Ear di Soun,” these recordings were continually broadcast on eight radios stations around the world that year. Nam June’s Spirit is a beautifully formed homage, I cannot think of any other like it. An intimate, flickering language discovered through the air. The LP comes replete with a booklet of photographs of Paik on the set of Michael Snow’s unreleased film Rameau’s Nephew (1974).

Sean McCann, 2020
Aki Onda, 2017

20-page art booklet including rare photographs of Nam June Paik from the set of Michael Snow’s film Rameau’s Nephew (1974), two essays on radio-wave phenomenon (by Onda and Marcus Gammel), and a remembrance of Paik by Yuji Agematsu

Following the sublime smash debut "X17", LA-based label Elbow Grease head conductor Dave Aju continues on his righteous piece-by-piece journey toward a multi-genre multiverse, where deep musical roots come together in kaleidoscopic expression, and unfakeable funk reigns supreme.

"Spacio Tempo" picks up where we last left off, though with a notable drop in bpm as the title implies, with a rolling 4/4 textural tapestry that combines pulsating layers of soulful synth work, effervescent live percussion, and heavenly strings into a dense yet open-as-the-night-sky extended gem yet again. Just as the machine patterns of near-equator rhythms bubble over and begin to lock into a hypnotic groove, a bold left turn into a dank latin jazz noir vibraphone solo and SH-101 duet tango ensues, before landing us safely back at home base - right on time, at its own spacial pace.

As per the Elbow Grease release recipe so far, the B1 cut offers DJs a more driving flex, this time in the form of the "Acido Tempo Mix": a raw 303-driven take on the original which will undoubtedly stomp its way fiercely thru many bass bins in sweaty basements and warehouses worldwide. Finally the B2 blessing "Domingo Dub" closes things out, removing all but the highest vibes as an ambient drifting and uplifting take on the main theme, where the faintest of vocal tones, space echoes, and light percussive touches leave us elated in a West Coast, with subtle splashes from the D, sunset dream. Another solid single turned three-tracker sure-shot from EG.

O’o share many of the musical characteristics of their ornithological namesake. The Kaua’i O’O produced the most exquisite birdsong before its extinction in Hawaii in the late 1980s. The beauty and character of its voice was delicate and mysterious, tuneful and surprising. You can experience it with just a cursory websearch, a haunting cri de coeur from the last century. If the poor O’O is consigned to history, then life is just beginning for this French duo, based in Spain, who’ve won plaudits and awards already in their short musical lifespan.

O’o are about to release their sublime debut album Touche. This is not an endling, it’s just the beginning: “I found the name on a website of weird English language words, and I loved the way the letters were arranged like a pair of glasses,” says O’o singer Victoria Suter. “Afterwards, I went onto YouTube and started listening to the last bird of its species, calling for a mate that would never come. I thought: ‘Oh my God, that’s so sad’. Then we talked about the name and we thought it could be a nice thing to honour it and keep it alive in some way.”

Suter met her musical partner Mathieu Daubigné at college in Agen, South West France, when the pair were studying music theory in their teens. Victoria moved to Barcelona in 2010; Mathieu followed six years later. Their debut EP, Spells, appeared in 2018 a beautifully crafted patchwork of vocals and samples that is redolent of the uncanny vocalese of Laurie Anderson. The bird makes an appearance at the beginning of the EP: “Sweet tooth beak. Soft melody peak / Oh O’o, go round and round in circles / Looking for a honeydrop, til you vanish, til you drop”.

That sense of profound longing for something lost is carried over to Touche, as well as the same heightened sensory awareness of the world around them. What has developed in spades is the creative process. O’o have blossomed organically, augmenting their pop sensibilities. Avant-garde techniques have been brought to heel as the pair create off-kilter pop music that warms the heart and nourishes the brain. The catalyst that enabled this bold pop transformation came with the song ‘Touche’ itself, a saucy chanson at the heart of the album. Suter’s wry narrative about a botanical femme fatale is inserted into a lithe and skittish song with reggaeton beats and an inviting, balmy atmosphere.

“The song is about a flower which attracts male insects, producing the very same smell as the female of the species,” explains Victoria. “The poor male is fooled by the sex-appeal of this botanical trap, and gets so excited that he exhausts himself and wastes all his other chances of ulterior mating and having any offspring. The flower entices the insect in in mermaid-like fashion, to come nearer and touch her. It’s the hot track!”

‘Touche’ reaches into hitherto unexplored areas of pop, while the rest of the album is accessible in the way that James Blake, Radiohead or Kate Bush are accessible, and it always challenges, in a way that pop isn’t supposed to. Suter writes playful, poignant, observational songs that tell stories as well as tell us something about ourselves. Songs like ‘Dorica Castra’ are built upon the voice as an instrument, centrifugal and layered from its core.

Complimentary to this method is Daubigné, who brings startling innovation with found sounds, samples and clever vocal manipulations—creating unique, otherworldly sonic flourishes. A guitar whirs like a musical spinning top on ‘Spin’, created in Ableton; an Ondes Martenot appears to make a guest appearance on the title track, though it’s the ingenuity of the Prophet 8 synthesiser. “I’ll often say to Mathieu, ‘what’s that?’” says Suter, He’ll reply, ‘that’s your voice’.”

O’o found their own voice when they won a competition held by the legendary festival organisers Primavera Sound. Victoria entered the band into a competition she saw on Instagram, sending off rough demos on the final day of entry, thinking little more about it other than the fact Mathieu might be annoyed. Soon they would have to build a live set from scratch and figure out how to present their music for the first time. At stake was seventy hours of recording time at Aclam studios, used by Rosalía and Kendrick Lamar, and for the winner a coveted spot at the festival. A pool of 350 acts were whittled down, and then O’o triumphed at a Battle of the Band style face off.

The O’O might be extinct, but O’o the band have learned how to fly. Just watch them go.

Stefan Schwanders Repeat Orchestra presents “Infamous Lost Tracks”, an album appearing out of the blue, coming from spheres where time, space and Zeitgeist are nothing more than words.
With the Repeat Orchestra Schwander (who of course also is Harmonious Thelonious, A Rocket In Dub, Antonelli and a lot more) found a unique way of channeling deep House Music, a minimalistic setup and an idea of creating enjoyable music into amazing tracks that sound so effortless and natural. From first track "Call And Response" on it’s obvious that the main thing that this album is about is the groove, sometimes euphoric, sometimes quite unobtrusive but always irresistible, build from massive basslines, complex rhythms and the masterfully performed interplay of repetition and modulation. Warm harmonies, multilayered (at times quite unusual ("Nightdubbing")) melodies and subtle arrangements complete these Infamous Lost Tracks and their very own formular between Düsseldorf, Chicago and Lagos. There’s nothing harsh in this music, no aggression, still it’s far from being tame or tranquil: The pumping energy of "A Means To An End" or the sublime liquid shuffle of "Less Sensational" show the swing and kick inside these works that are made for delight but not to please.

And “Monks In A Club” is the most brilliant example of dancefloor understatement that you’ll ever hear in your life. Reduction, elegance and the right kind of mania concentrated into some minutes of pure club heaven. Handclaps, nonchalance & madness. An essential singularity and the swan song to the Repeat Orchestra, there will be no more of it. Get It And Smile.

Includes 2 bonus tracks.
Originally released in 1983 this hugely rewarding record acted as a round up of the group’s career to date and was of immeasurable value to fans. It’s aged well, too.
Comprising of A and B sides from their Rough Trade released singles plus extracts from sessions for Radio 1, Capital Radio and EMI Records, this LP contains unique versions of such classic tracks as “The Jet Set Junta” and “He’s Frank (Slight Return)”.
Oddities, and jocular moments run through the album, including John Peel introducing “Fat Fun” and thinking aloud that those Monochrome boys might be having a pop at him. The fact that it includes a wish list of the band’s best songs to this point in their career is another reason to recommend it.
Previously they may have made a handful of slightly-off-target albums, but this 1983 compilation is a front-to-back joy, fast, restless and perfectly sequenced. It plays like a cohesive album.
Includes 2 bonus tracks from the February 1979 Peel Session ‘Love Goes Down The Drain’ & ‘Noise (Eine Kleine Symphonie)’.

"Same Team" ist die erste Single des kommenden Albums S.I.D.E.S. Die Single behandelt persönliche und berufliche Konflikte - Alice sagt über den Song: "Ich hatte das Gefühl, in Welten hineingezogen zu werden, die ich nicht verstand, und Gespräche mit Menschen zu führen, in denen wir einfach nicht dieselbe Sprache sprachen. Ein Team durchläuft Höhen und Tiefen, zieht aber oft an einem Strang, um noch stärker zu werden - in manchen Fällen tut es aber auch genau das Gegenteil."

Marc Brauner makes his return to the label, this time collaborating with fellow Berliner, Ulrich Harrison - better known by moniker Tender Games - on five summertime sweeteners.

These two producers are no stranger to working together, co-running their own imprint, Nostalgics Records in their home town of Berlin. This collaboration then came together naturally, and represents the ideal blend of Marc Brauner's syncopated rhythmic tendencies, and Tender Games' musical antecedents in soul music and penchant for instrumentation.

'Concrete Jungle' epitomises this fusion: a two-step rhythm carries a deep bassline which cruises beneath a blissed-out trumpet melody. 'You Keep Me Up' and 'Listen' are skippy old school bangers, the former complete with anthemic piano stabs a la Manix and Inner City and the latter peppered with blithe whispers of a saxophone. 'It Makes Me' follows suit, substituting hi-hats for a focus on funk-inflected low ends before the UKG-leaning 'Violation' draws things to a close with MC vocal chops and bass womp ruffage.

Concrete Jungle EP drops 17th June 2022 via Shall Not Fade

Released for the first time on vinyl, Queen’s compilation ‘The Platinum Collection’, featuring all three of their Greatest Hits albums, shows their unrivalled track record of chart-topping, award-winning, record-breaking rock and pop classics. June 17th will see the limited edition 6LP colour vinyl set released in a slipcase with brand new artwork. Each piece of vinyl will be a different colour and come in its own individually designed sleeve. The set also comes with an exclusive 24-page 12″ photo booklet. LIMITED EDITION

Lazarus Recordings makes its long awaited return with the head honchos new EP, DJ Deluxe – Alive By Default. This EP is full of his fast paced breakbeat goodness that has become synonymous with DJ Deluxe’s production style. He takes that ‘93/’94 breakbeat hardcore sound, adds some 1998/1999 breakbeat style and then amps it up with modern production techniques. You will find all that made the early breakbeat hardcore sound so good but all the dials have been turned up to 12! The only thing that can top Deluxe’s insanity is that of DJ Beeno, and here he really lets lose and unleashes his love of fast paced techno for his remix of Get On Your Knees. This EP isn’t just one thing, it's not old skool, it's not new skool, but it is both and so much more.
Club / DJ Support
Jay Cunning, Billy Bunter, the Fat Controller, Liquid, Hyper On Experience, Glowkid, Slipmatt, Dj Jedi, Dj Luna-C, Dj Brisk, Paul Bradley, Jimni Cricket, Bustin, Jimmy J, Doughboy, Lowercase, Dave Skywalker, Ponder and many others

"Don’t be afraid, old son, it’s only me,
though not as I’ve appeared before,
on the battlements of your signature,
or margin of a book you can’t throw out"
~ Michael Donaghy

Whytwo is a young, enigmatic artist from Scotland, UK. A talented multi-instrumentalist and performer with an extraordinarily broad range.
First coming to Blu Mar Ten's attention after entering their 2017 remix competition, Whytwo created a wildly different take on their track 'Titans', bending it into a skittering, menacing groove while somehow maintaining a playful edge.

Fast-forward a little and we've now arrived at Whytwo's debut LP, 'Ghost', an exhilarating and elasticated take on Drum & Bass that exists in the hinterland between elation, melancholy and longing.

Mirroring Whytwo's music, the album's title, 'Ghost', is richly layered word, meaning, in different places and at different times; a memory of something or someone; to disappear without communication; to move quietly and quickly; to secretly do work for another; and, of course, a being caught between worlds.
From the old English, 'Gast', meaning 'breath' or 'spirit', the word eventually transformed into 'Ghost' coming to describe "a slight suggestion, mere shadow or semblance". All of these definitions relate, in some way, to the album now before us.

In conversations with Whytwo, he describes how his Jazz musician Grandfather was the person responsible for first giving him music-making software, and whose clarinet features on some of the album tracks. At the same time that 'Ghost' was being created, Whytwo was looking after a young child and some of the drums on 'Ghost' are recordings of the child hitting things. Whytwo describes the feeling of existing between these two extreme states, young & old, naive & experienced, primitive & advanced, and taking the role of a medium 'caught between worlds' whose task was to stitch together this generational fabric.

The result is nothing less than spectacular. Despite having its roots in Drum & Bass, the rules and conventions of the style are ruthlessly disobeyed resulting in glittering cascades of melody, harmony and rhythm that somehow burst with both sadness and joy, hope & loss, memory and anticipation. The music swoops and dips, briefly casting shadows before blasting them away with sunlight, evoking memories both personal and collective. This is 'Lost Soul Music' that manages to speak to all of us.

Despite being deceptively listenable, Whytwo insists this is not relaxing background music. Listeners should fully engage with the music beyond its attractive surface and absorb it at the same deep human level where it was created. 'Ghost's production levels are astoundingly high but focussing on those would be a mistake. They only serve to carry the spiritual content of the music across to the audience and unlock the valves of feeling. The beauty here is not the machine, but the ghost in the machine.

Dalibert who hides badly behind the simplicity of facade of these eight pieces all the rare elegance which emerges from this set. The pianist goes well beyond the codes of the genre, certainly one will think sometimes of harold bad of avalon sutra to philipp glass of metamorphosis but Melaine Dalibert, by his singularity and his clairvoyance, reminds us that the music is nothing more than an arithmetic of the sensitivity, an addition of the possible ones. His fifth album "Shimmering" recently enriched the Mind Travels collection of the label Ici d'Ailleurs, but the magnetic mantras, that French pianist Melaine Dalibert forges on his appreciated concerts, already attracted many lovers of contemporary piano minimalism, due to the way by which this composer manages to integrate an algorithmic approach to composition with popular motifs and influence. His alloy of personalistic flow and technical skills is so strong that even what sounded like pure exercises, such as "Six+Six", one of the more interesting compositions (dedicated to David Sylvian), can titillate listener's soul. These eight haunting, wordless pop songs, snapshots of a melancholy mood, owe as much to Morton Feldman or Philip Glass as to Ryuichi Sakamoto or Peter Broderick. They nonetheless reveal a highly singular musical personality. These eight new white pebbles extend the fascinating journey of an artist who, if the title of his very beautiful record is to be believed, loves nothing more than to illuminate the path.