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Beneath the sleek, confident guitar line that powers “Overdrive,” the lead single of All Over You, another guitar marks the time more impatiently, as if the groove its locked into is the timebomb- tightness of a pre-hookup heartbeat. Its energy isn’t nervous — after all, it’s hard to be nervous with Will Schwartz cooing come-ons like “I just wanna get you in the bed / Light you up like a cigarette” in your ear — but it is urgent. Excited. Titillated.


That’s the word that best describes the prospect of a new Imperial Teen record: titillating. They come out every five or six years, each new album acting as, to quote Roddy Bottum, “an episodic piece of where we are now, where the world is now, who we have become, and the geography of our collective consciousness.” There is considerable distance between Imperial Teen, its members — Bottum (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Schwartz (vocals, guitars, keyboards), Jone Stebbins (bass, vocals), and Lynn Truell (drums, vocals) — having made lives for themselves in different cities, but the collective consciousness that exists between them makes distance and time seem immaterial to the listener.


Time, especially time together, is not immaterial to Imperial Teen: it is precious. “For the last few records,” Stebbins explains, “the process has been similar. We live great distances away from each other, so initially, we get together to collaborate, write, and create. When we have enough material, we reconvene to record. Both scenarios, creating and recording, take multiple trips, sometimes with big lapses of time in between due to our various schedules.” Bottum concurs: “The biggest challenge in writing and recording is the distance between us, but the longing and desire and the ultimate coming together becomes more potent as a result.”


All Over You is a triumph of maximized moments together, four people bringing the force of their personalities to bear on years of built-up ideas. Title track “All Over You,” initially built over the computer, gained its charming sneer in the studio, where Stebbins’ buoyant, fuzzed out bassline added bounce to the song’s punchy, sloganeering lyrics, a perfect set-up for Truell to drive the song home, screaming the last line of the chorus, “We’ve got nothing to do,” like a rallying cry for a generation that’s been given nothing and told to deny themselves everything. “In my head,” Truell says, “I just went back to punk, to that feeling of prowling around looking for anything to do and being so mad about how boring everything is that you just have to yell.” The track had an attitude, it had an unexpected texture thanks to Truell’s playing improvised percussion, but her scream is what took it to the next level, transforming it into a signature Imperial Teen song.


One of Imperial Teen’s less magical concerns on All Over You is the effect capitalism has on the creation of art. This expresses itself in the headspinning rush of music industry success and disappointment that plays out in “Hands All Up,” and also in Imperial Teen’s sound. All Over You features the band’s most expansive, textured palette to date, and much of it’s steeped in — bubblegum music and boy/girl harmonies, electro beats and grungy distortion, power pop mall anthems and kiss-off lyricism — has been dismissed, at one point or another, as a fad. Time, of course, has proven otherwise, and All Over You makes a case for Imperial Teen as four of that time’s architects, inheriting, preserving, and pushing the boundaries of what pop music can be from one song to the next.


“We want to make people dance and think and feel,” says Schwartz. In all of those ambitions, All Over You crushes, brought to life by four musicians who found each other in the clubs of San Francisco over three decades ago and have remained family ever since. It is less a return from hiatus than a broadcast from the sonic utopia Imperial Teen has long ruled over, where the music is bratty and sexy and the parties don’t stop until everyone’s found euphoria. A raveup for mind, body, and soul, best enjoyed in a dark room packed with as many sweaty bodies as possible

Beneath the sleek, confident guitar line that powers “Overdrive,” the lead single of All Over You, another guitar marks the time more impatiently, as if the groove its locked into is the timebomb- tightness of a pre-hookup heartbeat. Its energy isn’t nervous — after all, it’s hard to be nervous with Will Schwartz cooing come-ons like “I just wanna get you in the bed / Light you up like a cigarette” in your ear — but it is urgent. Excited. Titillated.


That’s the word that best describes the prospect of a new Imperial Teen record: titillating. They come out every five or six years, each new album acting as, to quote Roddy Bottum, “an episodic piece of where we are now, where the world is now, who we have become, and the geography of our collective consciousness.” There is considerable distance between Imperial Teen, its members — Bottum (guitars, keyboards, vocals), Schwartz (vocals, guitars, keyboards), Jone Stebbins (bass, vocals), and Lynn Truell (drums, vocals) — having made lives for themselves in different cities, but the collective consciousness that exists between them makes distance and time seem immaterial to the listener.


Time, especially time together, is not immaterial to Imperial Teen: it is precious. “For the last few records,” Stebbins explains, “the process has been similar. We live great distances away from each other, so initially, we get together to collaborate, write, and create. When we have enough material, we reconvene to record. Both scenarios, creating and recording, take multiple trips, sometimes with big lapses of time in between due to our various schedules.” Bottum concurs: “The biggest challenge in writing and recording is the distance between us, but the longing and desire and the ultimate coming together becomes more potent as a result.”


All Over You is a triumph of maximized moments together, four people bringing the force of their personalities to bear on years of built-up ideas. Title track “All Over You,” initially built over the computer, gained its charming sneer in the studio, where Stebbins’ buoyant, fuzzed out bassline added bounce to the song’s punchy, sloganeering lyrics, a perfect set-up for Truell to drive the song home, screaming the last line of the chorus, “We’ve got nothing to do,” like a rallying cry for a generation that’s been given nothing and told to deny themselves everything. “In my head,” Truell says, “I just went back to punk, to that feeling of prowling around looking for anything to do and being so mad about how boring everything is that you just have to yell.” The track had an attitude, it had an unexpected texture thanks to Truell’s playing improvised percussion, but her scream is what took it to the next level, transforming it into a signature Imperial Teen song.


One of Imperial Teen’s less magical concerns on All Over You is the effect capitalism has on the creation of art. This expresses itself in the headspinning rush of music industry success and disappointment that plays out in “Hands All Up,” and also in Imperial Teen’s sound. All Over You features the band’s most expansive, textured palette to date, and much of it’s steeped in — bubblegum music and boy/girl harmonies, electro beats and grungy distortion, power pop mall anthems and kiss-off lyricism — has been dismissed, at one point or another, as a fad. Time, of course, has proven otherwise, and All Over You makes a case for Imperial Teen as four of that time’s architects, inheriting, preserving, and pushing the boundaries of what pop music can be from one song to the next.


“We want to make people dance and think and feel,” says Schwartz. In all of those ambitions, All Over You crushes, brought to life by four musicians who found each other in the clubs of San Francisco over three decades ago and have remained family ever since. It is less a return from hiatus than a broadcast from the sonic utopia Imperial Teen has long ruled over, where the music is bratty and sexy and the parties don’t stop until everyone’s found euphoria. A raveup for mind, body, and soul, best enjoyed in a dark room packed with as many sweaty bodies as possible

Creole Culture is the triumphant return of Dawn Richard’s King Creole era. Steeped in history but with its flag planted firmly in the future, Creole Culture pulls elements from Richard’s heritage as a Black and Native American woman who has spent a lifetime making and engaging with music. Following New Breed (2019) and Second Line (2021), Creole Culture is akin to a panel of a triptych: a fully-realized sonic and narrative universe in which Richard, as King Creole, rebuilds her hometown of New Orleans in her image. She not only honors her city for what it was or what it gave her, but stakes a claim for it as a cradle of global culture now and for all time.


Creole Culture follows two acclaimed avant-garde R&B albums with composer Spencer Zahn — the later of which, 2024’s Quiet in a World Full of Noise, found Richard exorcising the specters of grief and trauma in the wake of her father Frank Richard’s health struggles and the killing of her cousin Cisco. It is a softer take on the brass-soaked swagger of Richard’s previous King Creole efforts, an evolution brought about when she realized she had left a crucial viewpoint out of her exploration of New Orleans: her own. “New Breed was the story of New Orleans through my father’s eyes,” Richard explains. “I used his samples, his music, his cultures, his work with Chocolate Milk, his side of the family. Second Line was my mom — her interludes riddled the album with her depiction of what is meant to be a Creole woman in New Orleans. The masculine and feminine sides of King Creole had expressed themselves through them, but the story felt unfinished, like my version of the story was untold.”
That story is, for lack of a better word, complex: at turns triumphant and tragic, sexy and mournful, braggadocious and contemplative. Creole Culture presents Richard’s New Orleans as a utopian soundscape — an intoxicating blend of R&B, soul, hip-hop, pop, and jazz — that’s survived and thrived despite the dystopian circumstances visited upon it. Richard presents the melange of influence and artifact on Creole Culture with the care of a botanist nurturing new hybrids in a rose garden.


What emerges from that care is at once delightful and unexpected, enlisting a crew of guest stars including Big Freedia, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, Tarriona “Tank” Ball, and Durand Bernarr for features that play against type. Tank’s turn at spoken word verse on “l v r” serves to add dimension to King Creole’s New Orleans, as does Joseph’s undeniable voice on “chuuuurch.” “I’m not normally a features girl,” says Richard, ”but King Creole can’t build a world from scratch without help. What’s beautiful about the features here — which is also true of my band and producers — is they come from people who understand the materials of the world they’re from, they’re people I love, and they’re people who are just extraordinary at what they do. They’re part of the atmosphere of this place. You need them for the record to breathe.”
In the end, that’s what King Creole creates: a space where Dawn Richard can breathe, can be at peace with herself, and let loose with others. From finding love in opening single “enough” to relishing in the Afrocaribbean futurism of “fiesta,” Creole Culture is a tremendous, freeing breath of fresh air. It captures the resolve of a woman and a place who’ve survived the unimaginable and sees the future not as something to be endured, but as something to be created. Dawn Richard has been making that future one album at a time over the course of her career. Creole Culture is her most stunning one yet.

Creole Culture is the triumphant return of Dawn Richard’s King Creole era. Steeped in history but with its flag planted firmly in the future, Creole Culture pulls elements from Richard’s heritage as a Black and Native American woman who has spent a lifetime making and engaging with music. Following New Breed (2019) and Second Line (2021), Creole Culture is akin to a panel of a triptych: a fully-realized sonic and narrative universe in which Richard, as King Creole, rebuilds her hometown of New Orleans in her image. She not only honors her city for what it was or what it gave her, but stakes a claim for it as a cradle of global culture now and for all time.


Creole Culture follows two acclaimed avant-garde R&B albums with composer Spencer Zahn — the later of which, 2024’s Quiet in a World Full of Noise, found Richard exorcising the specters of grief and trauma in the wake of her father Frank Richard’s health struggles and the killing of her cousin Cisco. It is a softer take on the brass-soaked swagger of Richard’s previous King Creole efforts, an evolution brought about when she realized she had left a crucial viewpoint out of her exploration of New Orleans: her own. “New Breed was the story of New Orleans through my father’s eyes,” Richard explains. “I used his samples, his music, his cultures, his work with Chocolate Milk, his side of the family. Second Line was my mom — her interludes riddled the album with her depiction of what is meant to be a Creole woman in New Orleans. The masculine and feminine sides of King Creole had expressed themselves through them, but the story felt unfinished, like my version of the story was untold.”
That story is, for lack of a better word, complex: at turns triumphant and tragic, sexy and mournful, braggadocious and contemplative. Creole Culture presents Richard’s New Orleans as a utopian soundscape — an intoxicating blend of R&B, soul, hip-hop, pop, and jazz — that’s survived and thrived despite the dystopian circumstances visited upon it. Richard presents the melange of influence and artifact on Creole Culture with the care of a botanist nurturing new hybrids in a rose garden.


What emerges from that care is at once delightful and unexpected, enlisting a crew of guest stars including Big Freedia, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, Tarriona “Tank” Ball, and Durand Bernarr for features that play against type. Tank’s turn at spoken word verse on “l v r” serves to add dimension to King Creole’s New Orleans, as does Joseph’s undeniable voice on “chuuuurch.” “I’m not normally a features girl,” says Richard, ”but King Creole can’t build a world from scratch without help. What’s beautiful about the features here — which is also true of my band and producers — is they come from people who understand the materials of the world they’re from, they’re people I love, and they’re people who are just extraordinary at what they do. They’re part of the atmosphere of this place. You need them for the record to breathe.”
In the end, that’s what King Creole creates: a space where Dawn Richard can breathe, can be at peace with herself, and let loose with others. From finding love in opening single “enough” to relishing in the Afrocaribbean futurism of “fiesta,” Creole Culture is a tremendous, freeing breath of fresh air. It captures the resolve of a woman and a place who’ve survived the unimaginable and sees the future not as something to be endured, but as something to be created. Dawn Richard has been making that future one album at a time over the course of her career. Creole Culture is her most stunning one yet.

John Coffey built a reputation as one of the most explosive live bands in Europe - even becoming an internet sensation with the legendary “beer catch”. From Graspop to Sziget, Wacken to Pinkpop, Vainstream to Jera On Air, 2000trees and Hurricane/Southside - the Dutch group has played several of the biggest festivals, sold out the Melkweg in Amsterdam and even launched their own punk rock festival - Coffey Fest - to celebrate community and uncompromising music. Never shying away from the world around them, John Coffey actively uses their platform to speak out on social justice and political urgency. The new studio album "Not Alone" is about the power of connection. About discovering that there are other people who feel what you feel. Whether you find that connection through a partner, a friend, a helpline, or a room full of people feeling the same music. Talking helps. Singing helps. Screaming along helps. Armed with new music, a fierce activist ethos, and upcoming European tour dates, the band proves that engagement and heavy rock ’n roll are a perfect match.

Come Back Down, the new album by Nashville experimental-pop duo Total Wife, was born from the edge of sleep. When composer and producer Luna Kupper would begin to fall asleep during late-night mixing sessions, the songs would follow her into the halfway place between dream and lucidity. Like Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks, she'd wake with a new perspective on the puzzle she was piecing together. "I'm a psychological mixer - I'm trying to think of how someone's experiencing the sound, versus getting stuck in trying to make all these different tones and using all this gear to make something sound a certain way," Kupper says. And like a spiral from waking life into dream, the songs on Come Back Down are endlessly self-referential, building whole universes from a single point. Kupper sold all of her synths to make rent before she started working on the album, and so every inorganic sound is instead built from samples of the band's own work. A guitar on one song may be reprocessed and used as a synth on the next, while everywhere on the album vocal samples are taken from a single unreleased cover of Elliott Smith's 'Between the Bars.' In tribute to this process, the album was almost named The Julia Set after the mathematical equation which feeds into itself again and again, creating beautiful fractal images. The intention was to create something complex but accessible; experimental, yet precise and without abstraction. In her lyrics, too, lyricist and vocalist Ash Richter is as straightforward as she's ever been. She drew on her experience of pandemic isolation to write about connection and disconnection, using her lyrics as a tool for the communication that was missing in everyday life. On the soaring, shoegazey track 'peaches,' a storm that forced the cancellation of a recording session became a metaphor for emotional distance. 'still asleep' chronicles Richter's euphoria after Total Wife's first tour, and watches it begin to curdle into paranoia. "Thank the full moon, my heart is overflowing," she sings, before: "Is there such a thing as too happy?" The experience of isolation was prompting Richter to think back to her childhood, a time marked for her by solitude and natural play - climbing trees, making mud pies, getting lost in the woods. On tracks like 'in my head' and 'second spring,' she uses the imagery of nature to recall that time and forge a connection with her lonely inner child. "I feel connected with transcendentalist writing and magical realism - trying to convey things in a concrete way, but with that element of psychology and mystery," she says. Richter and Kupper, friends from high school, formed Total Wife in 2016, relocating from Boston to Nashville in 2020. Both are visual artists as well as musicians, which they incorporate into their work with Total Wife via layered and purposeful visuals. A DIY streak underpins everything that they do - from handling their own artwork and music videos to recording their own music, releasing tapes through their label Ivy Eat Home, and hosting house shows in the basement they've christened Ryman 2. In Nashville they've settled into a weirdo scene living under the record industry's floorboards, a hive of collaborative and creative energy that has made them excited to call the city home. They also assembled a live band for the first time shortly after moving to Nashville, consisting of Ryan Bigelow, Sean Booz and Billy Campbell - injecting their creative process with a jolt of spontaneity and aliveness that has fed back into Come Back Down.

Come Back Down, the new album by Nashville experimental-pop duo Total Wife, was born from the edge of sleep. When composer and producer Luna Kupper would begin to fall asleep during late-night mixing sessions, the songs would follow her into the halfway place between dream and lucidity. Like Dale Cooper in Twin Peaks, she'd wake with a new perspective on the puzzle she was piecing together. "I'm a psychological mixer - I'm trying to think of how someone's experiencing the sound, versus getting stuck in trying to make all these different tones and using all this gear to make something sound a certain way," Kupper says. And like a spiral from waking life into dream, the songs on Come Back Down are endlessly self-referential, building whole universes from a single point. Kupper sold all of her synths to make rent before she started working on the album, and so every inorganic sound is instead built from samples of the band's own work. A guitar on one song may be reprocessed and used as a synth on the next, while everywhere on the album vocal samples are taken from a single unreleased cover of Elliott Smith's 'Between the Bars.' In tribute to this process, the album was almost named The Julia Set after the mathematical equation which feeds into itself again and again, creating beautiful fractal images. The intention was to create something complex but accessible; experimental, yet precise and without abstraction. In her lyrics, too, lyricist and vocalist Ash Richter is as straightforward as she's ever been. She drew on her experience of pandemic isolation to write about connection and disconnection, using her lyrics as a tool for the communication that was missing in everyday life. On the soaring, shoegazey track 'peaches,' a storm that forced the cancellation of a recording session became a metaphor for emotional distance. 'still asleep' chronicles Richter's euphoria after Total Wife's first tour, and watches it begin to curdle into paranoia. "Thank the full moon, my heart is overflowing," she sings, before: "Is there such a thing as too happy?" The experience of isolation was prompting Richter to think back to her childhood, a time marked for her by solitude and natural play - climbing trees, making mud pies, getting lost in the woods. On tracks like 'in my head' and 'second spring,' she uses the imagery of nature to recall that time and forge a connection with her lonely inner child. "I feel connected with transcendentalist writing and magical realism - trying to convey things in a concrete way, but with that element of psychology and mystery," she says. Richter and Kupper, friends from high school, formed Total Wife in 2016, relocating from Boston to Nashville in 2020. Both are visual artists as well as musicians, which they incorporate into their work with Total Wife via layered and purposeful visuals. A DIY streak underpins everything that they do - from handling their own artwork and music videos to recording their own music, releasing tapes through their label Ivy Eat Home, and hosting house shows in the basement they've christened Ryman 2. In Nashville they've settled into a weirdo scene living under the record industry's floorboards, a hive of collaborative and creative energy that has made them excited to call the city home. They also assembled a live band for the first time shortly after moving to Nashville, consisting of Ryan Bigelow, Sean Booz and Billy Campbell - injecting their creative process with a jolt of spontaneity and aliveness that has fed back into Come Back Down.

World Of Echo are proud to announce the long-awaited reissue of the self-titled debut album by Bristol’s Movietone. Originally released in 1995 by Planet Records and reissued on CD in 2003 by The Pastels’ Geographic Music imprint, this is the first time Movietone has been reissued on vinyl. An expanded double-LP edition, it includes the extra tracks from the 2003 CD (their first two singles, and an unreleased demo of “Chance Is Her Opera”), and adds three more unearthed gems: demos of “Alkaline Eye” and “She Smiled Mandarine Like”, and an early take of “Late July”, recorded in a garden by Dave Pearce (Flying Saucer Attack) in 1993.

Taken together, this is the definitive collection of music from the first phase of one of Bristol’s most remarkable groups. Movietone was the cumulation of a series of events, explorations, and discoveries, starting at secondary school – the group’s core membership of Kate Wright, Rachel Brook, Matt Elliott and Matt Jones met at Cotham School in Bristol. As for many other groups, their early years were all about experimenting, and finding ways to ‘make do’, a DIY sensibility that would inform Movietone through their decade-long lifespan. From formative rehearsals in a shed in the garden of Brook’s family home, to recording early material to four-track in Redland Library, and on into the Whitehouse and Mr Grin’s studio sessions for their debut album, Movietone’s music fell together in a creatively unpredictable, yet conceptually rigorous manner.

By the time they released Movietone, they’d found a home with Bristol’s Planet, run by author Richard King and James Webster, who had both released their first two singles, “She Smiled Mandarine Like” and “Mono Valley”. There was other music happening around them in Bristol, too, from the Jones brothers’ avant-rock outfit Crescent (who were Movietone’s closest conspirators), through Elliott’s jungle/electronica project Third Eye Foundation, and Brook and Elliott’s membership of Flying Saucer Attack. A closely knit community, Movietone are the centre of this nestling architecture of groups. The vision in the music, mostly, belongs to Wright, but Movietone ran in democratic creative consort. Listening back to Movietone, you can hear this democracy in action through the wildness of the music, which is balanced by the poetics of Wright’s lyrics and melodies.

Full of half-captured memories and entangled abstractions, there’s an elliptical, ruminative quality to much of the writing here that shows the deep influence of the Beat Generation writers, along with a twilight environment captured in the songs that’s pure third-album Velvets, Galaxie 500, early Tindersticks, Codeine. Unpredictable interventions – the crashing glass in “Mono Valley”, the sudden explosions of “Orange Zero” point towards the noise blowouts of My Bloody Valentine, the unpredictability of Sonic Youth; Wright’s understated vocal cadence suggest a deep, embodied understanding of John Cage’s Indeterminacy.

Movietone would go on to make 3 fantastic albums for Domino: Night & Day (1997), The Blossom Filled Streets (2000) and The Sand & The Stars (2003) and their Peel Sessions were released earlier this year on Textile. Still held in high regard by artists like Steven R. Smith, and The Pastels, whose Stephen McRobbie once described them as “one of the great unknown English groups,” it’s an absolute thrill to listen to Movietone anew – still inspired, still seductive, still magic, still mysterious.

2026 Repress

Circus Operandi is the project of Donatas Chipak and Tumosa, two figures of the Vilnius electronic music scene, and residents at legendary clubs Opium (RIP) and Gallery 1986, where Ivan Smagghe & Niv Arzi (who jointly run Customs & Faces) met them countless times at countless hours. We’re not keen at describing the music we release at C & F, no need for pigeonholing ourselves but this EP completely ticked our boxes : electro, techno and everything in between, punch and deepness included.

Blah Blah has been played in every Ivan Smagghe set for the last 6 months and picked up by, amongst others, Shonky and Francesco Del Garda. Some kind of hit rambling about ordering a pizza is quite something. Fantast and Hints are slightly moodier pieces of emotional 4/4 electro while Denter subtly hits at non-cheesy trance. Expect much more from these two very soon.

On his brand new studio effort Styles P proves his key to success has always been consistency. The born in Corona, raised in Yonkers, NY native has really worked harder than most to earn the name GOAT, and by naming his album “S.P. The GOAT: Ghost Of All Time” you know he’s not bragging about it, in fact he’s getting his flowers while he’s alive from Hip Hop connoisseurs who know fire bars when they hear them. With productions by Vinny Idol, Termanology, Dayzel the Machine, and Noah Idol among others and guest appearances by Sheek Louch, Jadakiss, Nino Man, Fame of M.O.P, Whispers and Cris Streetz, the legendary LOX and D-Block member proves once again he’s aging like fine wine.

The title of Ghost Bridge, the East-Coast-spanning chamber ensemble Hour's fifth record, is less metaphorical than one might expect. Bandleader Michael Cormier- O'Leary repurposed it from an unrealized movie concept about a bridge that inexplicably starts disappearing. On the nearly-ten-minute title track of this richly imaginative suite of songs_written for a 13-piece ensemble that includes woodwinds, strings, and vibraphone as well as a rock rhythm section_Hour conjures up this central image with spectral string harmonics and free-time percussion gestures. While writing the keyboard pieces that became the takeoff point for the album, Cormier-O'Leary also found himself reflecting on the loss of loved ones or even his own mortality. The six kaleidoscopic instrumental pieces on Ghost Bridge, though, feel more cosmically inquisitive than straightforwardly elegiac, sketching a progression from existential doubt toward understanding and acceptance. Ghost Bridge forms a contrast with Hour's art-rock-informed, more improvisatory early releases, representing a step further into intricate chamber orchestration. Known for his work with Friendship, Wendy Eisenberg, and 2nd Grade, Phillybased multi-instrumentalist and Dear Life Records founder Cormier-O'Leary has made Hour a home for increasingly cinematic instrumental compositions since the mid-2010s. With dazzling production by Lucas Knapp, Ghost Bridge delivers plenty of the live ensemble's trademarks, especially cyclically developing guitar and keyboard melodies. However, even more than on Hour's last studio album, unconventional harmonies and sophisticated counterpoint take center stage here. These emotionally multifaceted compositions feel as rooted in contemporary classical and film soundtrack music as in indie rock. One of the most striking elements of Ghost Bridge is the more significant developmental role the orchestral instruments assume in each piece. Instead of underscoring Cormier-O'Leary's central hooks, there is a new mesmerizing level of detail to the group's conversational interactions and kinetic energy. "Centralia" is a stately and idiosyncratic fugue built from repeated and overlapping phrases, while Ghost Bridge's compositions are full of unexpected pivots in harmony that allow recurring melodic motifs to sound continually reshaded. On "Pearls," the chords modulate drastically around Cormier-O'Leary's inviting central melody in a way that emulates cuts in a film telling several parallel stories. There is an unsettled quality to the chords on Ghost Bridge, with Cormier- O'Leary's progressions avoiding firm grounding in either clearly sunny or melancholy tonalities. This mood is made more concrete by the record's sole vocal track, the jazz-inflected "Sky is Blue," featuring an uncannily gorgeous performance by Heeyoon Won. The song seems to be a communication from a person who has departed, offering consolation or perspective to someone left behind. Though its sonic palette is often tranquil, Ghost Bridge explores heartbreak, grief, anger, and helplessness in a distinct and pretense-free way. The project represents a bold step forward for Cormier-O'Leary as a composer and arranger, and on Ghost Bridge Hour reaches its most fully realized form to date, connecting soaring themes with an inventiveness that perfectly suits the searching nature of the subject matter.

A space is often described by its dimensions. The height of the ceiling, the expanse between walls. Division into functional elements of varying density follows. We have ideas of how such dimensions should be balanced to work well for sound — the classical concert hall, a Northward mastering room.

It’s tempting to try and use this idea of space to understand Space the group (Lisa Ullén, Elsa Bergman, Anna Lund). To calculate their cartesian co-ordinates: dynamics that run from whisper soft to punishing, shaking force; Ullén’s piano running the full expanse of the frequency spectrum; the mix of sudden, surprising and suggested variations in density (the space) that generates their musical structures.

But (a) space is a social phenomenon where meaning is accumulated and possibilities created by and through a constantly shifting set of social relations and their histories and entanglement inside and beyond the physical structures of a room or building. Reduced to its raw dimensions, Cafe OTO shouldn’t sound good: the low ceiling, the hollow void underneath the stage-not-stage, the hard glass windows out onto the street. But OTO as a social space — for gathering close to listen; the serious pursuit of a convivial good time (its productive mythology that an OTO audience is both up for it but also expects more); and then the idea of all that has happened before and what will come; that this is also part of ‘the music’ and changes what sounds to the point that none of those cartesian co-ordinates matter.**

It’s less of shock that Space sound good. Lisa Ullén is easily the most singular pianist in Sweden right now and Elsa and Anna’s ability to reroute in realtime reaffirms just how well they function as a group. The trio might have got their shit together holding down the rhythm section for the first incarnation of Anna Högberg Attack — but much like Högberg’s ongoing pursuit of artistic renewal, the trio avoid being shackled to any ideas about what a piano trio should be and there is something that happens (happened) in that room, on that night, with those people that made for something beyond just good.

It’s a gift that the sound of every concert at OTO gets recorded. A choice handful of these transcend their decoupling from that social space and radiate the room’s attendant energies. This record is one of them.

** See Jack Halberstam in Fred Moten & Stefano Harney, The Undercommons (2013): “…we must refuse the idea that music happens only when the musician enters and picks up an instrument; music is also the anticipation of the performance and the noises of appreciation it generates and the speaking that happens through and around it, making it and loving it, being in it while listening."

Originally released in 2017, Zara McFarlane’s Arise represents a classic moment in Brownswood Recordings catalogue. Just before the global spotlight landed on London's new jazz generation, Zara McFarlane was already forging her own path - connecting jazz, soul, reggae and Afro-Caribbean traditions with a confidence and clarity that remains striking nearly a decade later. Arise captures an artist operating with singular vision, creating a body of work that sounds every bit as fresh and forward-thinking today as it did on release.
The album also stands as an early landmark in the career of Moses Boyd, who produced and co-composed the record while serving as Zara's longtime drummer and musical collaborator. Years before his Mercury Prize-nominated breakthrough, Boyd helped shape Arise into a deeply personal exploration of heritage. The credit list is remarkable: Moses Boyd, Binker Golding, Shabaka Hutchings, Nathaniel Cross, Peter Edwards and Shirley Tetteh all contribute to a record that now reads like a roll call of British jazz royalty. The iconic cover shot was taken by Adama Jalloh, around the corner from Brownswood’s North London HQ.

Upon release, Arise was met with widespread critical acclaim. The Guardian praised “A Class Act" and celebrated its exploration of African-Caribbean musical lineage, while Clash Magazine described it as “enchanting and intriguing”. All About Jazz called the album's fusion of jazz and Jamaican rhythms "spellbinding".
As Brownswood celebrates its 20th birthday, we're proud to return one of the label's defining releases to vinyl, with the original copies being highly sought after. Pressed on limited edition gold vinyl, this special anniversary reissue is both a celebration of Zara McFarlane's artistry and a reminder of a record that was both ahead of its time, and whose influence resonantes today.

Environments are sticky, they stick to whatever happens within them. They can’t help it. And neither can you.

Land of the Few and Far Between / Songs for St. Michel is a collection of musical ‘figures’ written and recorded in 2022 and 2023 using a method Lyckle and Kim call the ‘snelkookpan’, translated as the pressure cooker. The ’snelkookpan’ in essence is trying to write and live-record as many musical figures in a given timeframe in a specific place. For ‘Land of the Few and Far Between’ this was an afternoon and evening in an exhibition Kim had curated about collecting and memory in The Hague. For ‘Songs of St. Michel’ this was 6 days in the basement of an art institution in Maastricht where they were joined by Otto de Jong on guitar. The figures are usually worked out by ear, sometimes improvised, sometimes written down, but often they are simply remembered and soon after recording forgotten. For ‘Land of the Few and Far Between’ they recorded ten figures. For ‘Songs for St. Michel’ fifteen. Of each a selection of five ended up on this seven inch.

F. van Abeelen (one of whom’s drawings is pictured on the sleeve of this seven inch and of whom 750 drawings were part of the exhibition mentioned above) was forced as a boy to hide in a basement for years. Only a small window gave access to the outside world. That sliver was his reality. After these years in hiding he began drawing his sliver of reality obsessively. Daily series of similar drawings that he would meticulously catalogue in an organizer. We never met F. Our friend who discovered the drawings in a closet of psychiatric nursing home Dorestad never met F. We only recorded ten musical figures next to 750 drawings by F.

St. Michel is a house that stands on the outskirts of Maastricht. It is built on the floodplains of the river Maas and living there you see the river change daily. It is a river fed by rain. No rain means a low river. Rain means a river that sometimes comes frighteningly close to flooding. Which it sometimes does. Due to the ebb and flow of the Maas, stuff is deposited in the boggy areas that are its floodplains. A shoe, a CD, a drone, some wood.

Places impress themselves onto what you are doing. You become an unwitting prop in the place’s story.

The first ‘snelkookpan’ happened in 2017 in the water-basin of one of the earliest concrete structures in the Netherlands; a bunker that was part of Amsterdam’s defensive line, built around the 1890’s. Something that used to house water was now empty. For three days Kim and Lyckle recorded improvised music there, which is still alive on a hard drive somewhere. In 2020 they recorded ‘the third of May’ at an old pumping station in Den Helder; an eleven part piece of auditory historical-horror which was released by South of North in 2024. Since 2023 Lyckle and Kim have mainly recorded live shows. With a Clarinet, kawai K1, Ipad, organelle, samplers and a variety of instruments curated for their minimal size or odd sound they’ve made chains of brief and improvised mini compositions inspired by browsing environments (digital and otherwise).

Land of the Few and Far Between / Songs for St. Michel adds to this growing collection of recordings for environments that are somehow sticky.

With the amps still warm from 2024's coruscating comeback Life Knife Death, veteran Swedish punk-metal masters Wolfbrigade strike back like a wounded cobra with their loudest, fullest, thickest-sounding record yet. And that's no happy accident. On their twelfth LP (the first three released under the Wolfpack monicker, 1996–99), the quintet concertedly resolved to shake up their habitual processes and interrogate their customary methodology. "As the songs started to fall into place, we decided to do something we hadn't done in many years," explains the band. "For the last decade we've recorded, produced and mixed our albums ourselves. This time we wanted to work with someone from outside the band whose work we respect and who we felt would understand what Wolfbrigade is about."

With the amps still warm from 2024's coruscating comeback Life Knife Death, veteran Swedish punk-metal masters Wolfbrigade strike back like a wounded cobra with their loudest, fullest, thickest-sounding record yet. And that's no happy accident. On their twelfth LP (the first three released under the Wolfpack monicker, 1996–99), the quintet concertedly resolved to shake up their habitual processes and interrogate their customary methodology. "As the songs started to fall into place, we decided to do something we hadn't done in many years," explains the band. "For the last decade we've recorded, produced and mixed our albums ourselves. This time we wanted to work with someone from outside the band whose work we respect and who we felt would understand what Wolfbrigade is about."

On his brand new studio effort Styles P proves his key to success has always been consistency. The born in Corona, raised in Yonkers, NY native has really worked harder than most to earn the name GOAT, and by naming his album “S.P. The GOAT: Ghost Of All Time” you know he’s not bragging about it, in fact he’s getting his flowers while he’s alive from Hip Hop connoisseurs who know fire bars when they hear them. With productions by Vinny Idol, Termanology, Dayzel the Machine, and Noah Idol among others and guest appearances by Sheek Louch, Jadakiss, Nino Man, Fame of M.O.P, Whispers and Cris Streetz, the legendary LOX and D-Block member proves once again he’s aging like fine wine.

"Back in 2022, Ban Ban Ton Ton raved about George T’s then digital-only release, “Roll On, Kings Cross”. We described it as a “dynamite dose of poetry and digidub.” Likening the prose – which describes a train journey from the coast to the city – to Michael Smith and Joe Duggan, while comparing the production to Dennis Bovell’s remixes of Jarvis Cocker’s “Swanky Modes”, and The Sabres Of Paradise’s “Wilmot”. Melodica-led with a hefty post-punk flavour, its dub, which focuses on manipulating and morphing the bass-line, we called “hollowed out house.”

These tracks have now been pressed to vinyl for the second release on new imprint Noetic Rhythm, where they’re joined by Leonidas’ “Great Northern” mix. Eschewing his usual futuristic ethno techno jacking, here he drops into roots reggae. Creating something more skanking, more stepping. An extended “discomix” showered in filtered, Mutron Bi-phased percussion, ghostly horns and peppered with the odd syndrum pop. Washes of sampled surf appropriately accompanying George informing us that “to the left there’s the sea.”

The 12 also features, “Dr Doctor”, a fresh collaboration with Yas Mine, The singer / guitarist’s French vocals countering George’s Matt Johnson-esque delivery, and a John Barry / “Midnight Cowboy”-like melodica melody serenading the song’s slow, squelchy, electronic skanking. The dub, instead, showcasing Yas’ fine fretwork." BAN BAN TON TON review

-

"These tracks are massive! I love Roll On King's Cross the best" KAY SUZKI (Time Capsule)
"I played the dub (Dub On, King's Cross) at a club in Oslo alongside some Maurizio and it sounded great. Bit of an oddball." Also played on NTS Radio and in Mixmag mix. JONNIE WILKES // OPTIMO
"Really digging Mr Demure when he drops into dubwise" DR ROB // BAN BAN TON TON
"Yes. Nice" NICK THE RECORD
"Awesome" JONNY ROCK
"I really like this EP... Love the Leonidas dub!" CEDRIC WOO (Beauty & The Beat, LDN)
"Love the blend of Augustus P vibes with a post punk dub feel. Bingo!" DICKY TRISCO
"I love it and will be playing" TREVOR FUNG (Ibiza Legend)
"Yes this is dark but kinda friendly.... brilliant...It's like ghost town ...I love Leo's mix" FOR MANKIND (Pikes Ibiza)
"Love the release and LOVE LOVE LOVE Dr Doctor!!!! Psyched to play this one out all weekend." ZILLAS ON ACID // James Weissinger (Philadelphia, US)
"This is amazing. Dub on kings cross is a banger - really love this one" ARVEENE
"Loving the Leonidas dub" ATEMI (Blackbush Orchestra / Abstrack)
+
PREVIOUSLY
"Melodica heaven" JD TWITCH/OPTIMO (RIP)
"I love this" IVAN SMAGGHE
"It's hot!!" JONNY ROCK
+ plays/support from:
DON LETTS (BBC 6Music)
TOM RAVENSCROFT (BBC 6Music)
HARRI (Sub Club)






[f] Roll On, King's Cross [Leonidas' Great Northern Mix] 06:54
[g] Dr Doctor [Instrumental Mix] 03:25

From the discovery of her smoke 'n' honey battlecry, through her baptism of fire in the Bronx blues clubs, onto backup vocals for giants like Joe Louis Walker and Popa Chubby - before finding her own voice with the solo career that exploded in 2016 - the award-winning New York singer-songwriter's road-scuffed leather boots have barely touched the ground. Now, Schorr releases Running Wild: the highly anticipated third album whose songs pulse with empowerment in dark times. "It's about defiance, selfdiscovery, reflection, resilience and freedom," she says. "I want these songs to lift people above the grind.

Jude Brothers sails toward a new shore with Dogwood Maiden Voyage. Created in living rooms, recording studios, and train tunnels between Tennessee and Arkansas, it's an adventurous album that's every bit as eclectic as its world-traveling creator. Here, Jude's vision of freethinking folk music — a multicultural sound that truly knows no borders, inspired by a vast array of global folk, sacred music, and pop songs— is given a lush update with string arrangements and vocal harmonies, shining new light on an artist who's always evolving.

Jude's songs are rarely linear. Instead, they explode outward in unexpected directions, exploring left-hand turns and detours before returning to their original paths. Caught halfway between the free-form, the freak-folk, and the finely-crafted, they tell stories about the complicated paths we take toward self-discovery, the push-and-pull between the desire to belong and the perpetual feeling of otherness, and the growth that emerges during times of barrenness. "You can sit with an old southerner on the porch and they’ll be telling you a story, and there are 17 different tangents," Jude says. "That's how I make music. I take all different plot lines and weave them together."

Throughout Dogwood Maiden Voyage, Jude indulges in childlike fantasy as an adult, encouraging fractured pieces of identity to communicate with one another. Much of that fantasy takes place in the woods, surrounded by trees, protected by the natural world that Jude's music so wistfully evokes. There's grief and darkness here, but there's light, too, like a forested landscape that's beginning to embrace spring after a long winter. Dogwood Maiden Voyage makes room for both sides of that divide. It's an album of multitudes — a record for all seasons.

We release our second record, COPPIES002. Another hand stamped white label EP, collecting tunes from thecommunity, for the community. This time with tracks by Kerr Wilson, Salomo, illousion and APRS. Kerr starts on A1 with his "The Key To My Heart". He showed the first version of the track to Robert around 4 years ago in a memorable summer spent together. We made the promise that this will be pressed on record one day and, here it is! Thanks Kerr! It's a melancholic late-summer tune that makes you tear up and feel like the warm euphoria won't last forever, but it will surely return if you're patient. Salomo follows with a similar moody approach on "Say less (on the DF)", even though we can argue about the meaning of the title ;). illousion builds more tension on the flipside with "Masc or Mask". Entering dubby, rolling terrains with more high intensity drum patterns for later moments of the night. APRS is closing the EP with "I Want to Speak" on B2, maybe the counter argument to Salomos desire of a less noisy dancefloor. He crafted a minimal, loopy trip that drags you down the rabbit hole and won't iet you go til the party is over. COPPIES002 is available on vinyl only with digi download option

Long overdue reissue of classic Scottish ambient techno banger ‘Mindweeds’, originally released in 1993 on the Pure-affiliated T&B Vinyl label run by Keith McIvor (JD Twitch) and Andy Watson (Brainstorm). With a Discogs demand ratio at about 300 have : 2000 want, and used prices peaking at over £100, now seems to be the right time for a re-release.

State of Flux were Roger Elliott and Dave Clark (aka Sparky, LUMA, Truffle Club and main man behind Kübler-Ross). They first met at Glasgow’s Strathclyde University in 1990, bonding over a shared love of weasel racing, German sausages and “man-duos” like The KLF and The Shamen. Dave was fully pubescent and already had a synth and drum machine, while Roger – a late developer – bought “another cheap synth, a Commodore Amiga for sequencing and a tiny mixer with no EQ”. For two long years they concentrated hard on “churning out unlistenable pish”, admittedly clueless about what they were trying to do.

Then – out of nowhere in the summer of 1992 – a flatmate’s Jello Biafra spoken word CD (‘I Blow Minds For A Living’) provided the inspiration to unlock the spark of dynamite that set the raving world on fire. Sampled using a Walkman* cassette** tape*** on playback (a decision the pair soon came to regret every time the track was subsequently performed live), Jello’s pilfered rant would soon become the crucial glue that held together the burgeoning kaleidoscopic helicopter spliff that is ‘Mindweeds’, loaded as it was – and indeed still is – with a veritably seething morass of cheeky electronic blims, nasal filter cheese and gay Caledonian spunk.

* a vintage portable listening device roughly the size of 4 iPhones stacked on top of one another and weighing the same as a small tub of yoghurt

** a plastic cartridge enclosing 2 miniature spools of magnetically coated, polyester-type plastic film (magnetic tape), notoriously convenient for pirating copyright material and secreting in one’s underpants for transporting between illicit market trader stalls

*** thin ribbon coated with ferromagnetic particles, usually ferric oxide but also chromium dioxide, "pseudochrome" ferricobalt or iron-cobalt-nickel “metal” formulations – with the latter types sounding marginally less crap

Playing demos of the track to friends, one thing led to another and a copy arrived with Twitch. Meeting the legends behind Pure in late 1992, a release was scheduled for summer 1993… but not before a promotional live gig in February of that year, supporting their heroes The Black Dog. Confessing that they “didn’t have a clue how to play live”, the duo played it safe, “went to a studio near Edinburgh airport to record the ‘live’ show” and then “mimed it off a DAT” at the gig, “standing in front of unplugged synths”. Soon after this, they recorded the full EP at Finitribe’s ‘Finiflex’ studio in Leith, Edinburgh and the record came out as planned that summer – the same week as Underworld’s ‘Rez’.

The record received high praise, appeared in many big-name DJ charts, sold out very quickly and was repressed within a few weeks, selling several thousand copies by the end of 1993 – no mean feat in an era when people had to use landline phones ****, faxes ***** or good old-fashioned carrier pigeons ****** to ascertain literally anything about the outside world, what was cool, where to buy the cool shit, or how to meet people and have fun.

**** a fixed communication device that connects to a telephone network using physical wires, cables, or a stationary base unit tied to a specific geographic address, using a handset incorporating a mouthpiece featuring a small metal disk and carbon grains, converting sound pressure from the human voice into a flow of electrical waves caused by these grains being squeezed together, before the variable signal is transmitted down DC voltage-powered copper wire and rerouted by a central exchange to arrive at the earpiece magnet of the target receiver’s handset, moving a small speaker cone accordingly so the message is intelligible WITHOUT THE PERSON SPEAKING ACTUALLY BEING PRESENT

***** as above, but for the d/Deaf

****** flying vermin riddled with diseases and capable of surviving nuclear armageddon

Soon Roger and Dave became sick of the Walkman being the only instrument played live in their set: with their new found fame and riches, they invested in a case for their Amiga to transport it around Scotland, while also putting in the hours on how to pretend to play live better with a sequencer and synths that were FINALLY plugged in. Following the release of ‘The Mercury EP' in April 1994, they embarked on a full tour of the UK and even managed to part ways and end the band by June that year.

This reissue includes the two original mixes of ‘Mindweeds’ recorded at Finiflex (‘Original’ and engineer ‘Fred's Fancy’), the original cassette demo (mastered directly from the actual recording sent to Twitch & Brainstorm in 1992) and a live version recorded at the Birmingham club night 'Oscillate' in April 1994.

For more than thirty years, Hayden has built a body of work from moments in life that can easily pass unnoticed. His talent is to build grandeur around small events, not just within songs but as an accumulation across his whole career. Taken together, his ten studio albums amount to an ongoing conversation about family, memory, love, loss, absurdity, and the strange beauty hidden inside ordinary days. The realization that today’s routine may someday become the part of your life you miss most. Despite its title, Hayden's new album "The Recent Past" isn’t nostalgic so much as observant. It reflects on the strange feeling of longing for a time that wasn’t all that long ago, but it’s also about trying to stay rooted in the present while everything around us speeds up. It is a rich addition to Hayden’s continuing search for unsung moments. There’s heartache on this album, some frank declarations, a lot of comfort and danceable surprises. After years of mixing his own records, Hayden gave the final mixes to Grammy-winning engineer Tom Schick, whose work with Jeff Tweedy, Wilco, Mavis Staples and Willie Nelson had long been an inspiration. Adding subtle colours on the album are drummer Adam Hindle, pedal steel player Matt Kelly, fiddler Miranda Mulholland and upright bassist Ben Whiteley. "The Recent Past" is the perfect record to play when things are coming at you, when you want to take a breath, reflect, escape. Whatever memories or struggles play out you can hum to heartbreak, have lunch with your kid, know that trouble is out there for everyone but somehow this is still a beautiful day.

“One day, I’ll be a ghost, a spirit, that moves with you along the winds,” pines Twin Atlantic’s Sam McTrusty on the beautiful and cinematic ballad ‘Your, The End’, the fitting opener to the Scottish alt-rockers’ eighth album ‘Separation From The Animals’. “It’s about the responsibility I feel around being a parent,” he says, revealing that he cried while recording his vocal over bandmate Ross McNae’s tender Beatles-y piano part. If the album says anything, it’s ‘All You Need Is Love’, told with maturity and reckoning with the past to make sense of the present. ‘Separation From The Animals’ is an album born of two tales of triumph and perseverance – one of McTrusty grappling with his own ghosts, and the other of their finest album to date coming after a time when band morale was at an all time low. When their friends’ bands and peers were all calling it quits, words of wisdom from those close to the band were urging them to take time off. The album started out as a McTrusty solo effort, isolated in his new home. The day the band finished work on their last album, 2024’s ‘Meltdown’, was also the day McTrusty packed up his entire life and studio to start a new life in Toronto with wife and two kids, unaware of the rich seam of songwriting that it would inspire.

The original intention of the Builders and the Butchers was to make funeral music, but on the way to the cemetery something changed. An album, like any piece of art, is an artifact of a time. In a world where the process of listening to and obtaining music has never been cheaper or easier, vinyl is a last hold out. You can tell when you\'re holding the weight of wax in your hand, that you\'re connected to what you are doing. The first Builders and Butchers record is also an artifact of a time. Recorded in the living room of a house on SE Division St. in Portland, Oregon in 2007. It was recorded with no expectation, just wanting to document the songs folks had been gathering to sing along to since our first shows in the fall of 2005. The songs having been played only on the street up to that time. At those shows anyone who showed up was handed an instrument and quickly made part of the band. During the recording we attempted to bring that organic singalong rowdiness of the live show into the recording. We brought in about 20 close friends for a Sunday morning booze soaked choir session. We made sure that every instrument of the recording was made of wood and powered by a musician, there are no electric instruments and hardly any effects on this record.

Mothers of All is Mark Gomes' second album as Blue Chemise for Students of Decay, following 2018’s acclaimed Daughters of Time. Though built from very different materials, it shares its predecessor's economy, sense of proportion, and fascination with the ways domestic life can open onto larger and less easily defined realms. Where Daughters of Time evoked tender, if alien, nursery songs, Mothers of All takes the form of spectral salon music heard at a temporal and geographic remove.

These pieces feel fundamentally receptive, with Gomes allowing his chosen fragments to retain their own histories - both personal and aesthetic - while revealing unexpected tonal relationships through their idiosyncratic arrangement. The resulting music is at once deeply personal and strangely unmoored, a space where the intimate and the distant occupy the same plane.

What lingers about this project as a whole is the paradox that the most private experiences can also be the least singular: that family, memory, and devotion become most legible at the point where they cease belonging to any one life.

Whisper Doll's new music comes from a time in frontwoman Fiona Tagami's life when she was actively trying to cultivate whimsy, a sense of possibility. "It's about this switch of trying to be in the world as a hopeful person," she says. The songs' dream-pop sound, with their woozy guitars and ethereal vocal melodies, evokes that feeling. Some moments feel weightless and joyous, others dense with mystery. Whisper Doll began as a solo project when Fiona was in high school in Atlanta, writing in her bedroom while she fell in love with bands like The Sundays, Mazzy Star, and The Cranberries. During the process of making her debut album, 2024's Perfume Garden, she moved to New York and became quickly wrapped up in the city's indie scene. While playing in various other bands, she met her future Whisper Doll bandmates: drummer Shawn Majeed, guitarist sophomore album Lucky Clover is Whisper Doll's first full-band record, and the first one made in full in NYC, representing a newfound sense of clarity for Fiona as well as a newly collaborative process. With their meticulously crafted sound and deeply thoughtful songwriting, Whisper Doll place us in a world that's unmistakably their own.

Recordings on ECM vereint, wie Pitchfork es formuliert hat, „einige der herausragendsten Werke des
Minimalismus-Komponisten Steve Reich, darunter die maßgebliche Aufnahme seines unbestrittenen Meisterwerks Music for 18 Musicians“. Die Sammlung umfasst die drei Steve-Reich-Alben, die zwischen 1978
und 1982 auf dem Label veröffentlicht wurden. Sie erscheinen als originalgetreue Faksimile-Ausgaben in
einem hochwertigen Kartonschuber mit einem Booklet, das Fotos aus dem Archiv sowie Manuskriptseiten
und Liner Notes von Paul Griffths enthält. Direkt von den originalen analogen Masterbändern gefertigt
(AAA) lassen die drei Vinyl-Ausgaben diese wegweisenden Aufnahmen, die längst zum Kanon der zeitgenössischen Musik gehören, in ihrer ursprünglichen Klangqualität neu strahlen. Die drei Alben enthalten
die Werke Music for 18 Musicians, Octet, Music for a Large Ensemble, Violin Phase und Tehillim und
dokumentieren somit die einflussreiche frühe Schaffensphase des Komponisten sowie seine künstlerische
Entwicklung über einen Zeitraum von fünfzehn Jahren. Die Box erscheint anlässlich des 90. Geburtstags
von Steve Reich im Oktober 2026.
“About the famed ECM Recordings, much has already been written. Suffce to say that they confirm
that Reich could convey the pulse and spirit of American urban life as brilliantly as Gershwin did 30 years
earlier. Even the unity that arises from out of phase quasi-chaos is revelatory. Recorded 1976–1981, the
works’ emphasis on percussive sounds makes for anything but soothing background listening. It’s all fabulous stuff. Although listening to multiple works in one sitting could possibly induce numbness – taken one
at a time, they are as exhilarating as they are essential.” – Jason Victor Serinus, Stereophile Magazine

Spring 2026 saw The Proclaimers recording their new album, You May Offend. It is brothers Craig and Charlie Reid’s first album since 2022’s hugely acclaimed Denture’s Out (“Proves you don't need to be a young pretender to land hit after palpable hit,” – MOJO magazine). Their 13th studio album’s 12 tracks – punchy and punky, rousing and carousing, tender and tough – were recorded at Monmouth’s legendary Rockfield Studios with producer Dave Eringa, their crack live band – Steven Christie, Garry John Kane, Zac Ware and Clive Jenner – and frequent guest guitarist, Manic Street Preachers’ James Dean Bradfield. The result is an album, as ever, concise as well as incisive, and about looking forward. Pushing on and digging into the issues and feelings that matter to them here, now and tomorrow, not yesterday, as with the title track, and first single, a lament for the state of free speech, with Charlie approving of the fact that the title can be taken two ways: “As in: ‘Look, careful what you do, you may offend someone.’ Or: ‘OK children, you may now offend.’ Is it an instruction or an invitation? Or a warning?” A powerful accompanying video for the You May Offend single is being created by Emmy & BAFTA award winners, director Douglas Mackinnon in partnership with Peter Anderson Animation. “My favourite band of all time. They write the most spectacular songs, big hearted, uncynical passionate songs.'” - David Tennant “There is a whole other world of music behind that song that I’ve just been discovering, and they’re a wonderful, wonderful band. Now we live in the age of coolness that doesn’t mean anything, it's just quality and soul. The Proclaimers make more sense than ever.” – Chris Martin after Coldplay performed Sunshine on Leith at BBC’s The Piano Room

Roughly two years after the release of their initial statement of intent, debut single “Toutpartout PT2” with its hypnotic ripples, Andi Haberl and Florian Zimmer aka Bella Wakame have successfully channeled the magic of a 2024 live recording (captured at Berlin’s Donau115 & Silent Green) into their first proper studio offering. You can hear inspirations ranging from Bitchin Bajas, Jeremiah Chiu to Groupshow (Jelinek, Leichtmann, Pekler), the hypnotic, intricate battle between form and freedom (the fun of momentary formlessness) continues to unfold over the course of 10 new tracks, featuring album guest Indra Dunis (Peaking Lights). Their first single "Shades of Nambei" was very much inspired by the wonderful band Spirit Fest and their song "Nambei".

You can either shorten the reins, or you can loosen them – and give things more slack. With Bella Wakame, it’s definitely the latter. Constantly challenging each other, they’re tapping a whole new energy. Tons of different energies.

Based on the impulsive, propulsive interplay between drums/sensory percussion (Andi Haberl) and modular synthesizer (Florian Zimmer), the frenzied, free-form results take listeners into completely new dimensions – sonic worlds that don’t really sound anything like their other musical outlets (The Notwist, SUN, Saroos, Driftmachine etc.).

Whereas most bands tend to notoriously overthink names/monikers, these guys obviously only care about the ecstatic push-and-pull that occurs once their instruments meet and overlap: it’s wildly explosive textures with a booming heart. Moving restlessly between motorik club, electro-acoustic jazz experiments, ambient excursions, and fast-paced instrumental anthems that seem to explode at the seams, one can immediately tell how much they enjoy the newfound freedom, the turbulent encounters born on the spur of the moment.

It’s all about a quick-paced exchange of friendly blows, a chasing of tails into ever-new musical terrains. Relying on just enough form for that wildness to blossom within, their just-in-time dashes continually unfold, refold, return, grow bigger – and leave you startled.

The fifth LP in the long history of the label comes from another Belgian producer who is ready to fly high. After San Soda, Metrobox, Uni Son and label boss Red D it is now time for Tom Smeyers to step up and take us into his universe of warm grooves and sweet house music…with a twist.

Taking in influences from around the full spectrum of electronic music these six tracks represent what Tom is about at the moment. From deepest old school inspired house to more broken beat action right into drum’n’bass territory, with an attention to detail and experienced sound design.

As if that wasn’t enough Tom also took care of the artwork to match his music. We here at WPH call that a 360 artist. Welcome to the family Tom Smeyers!

DTM Funk: Super Dope!

DJ Bone: Really great release. I love every track!

Owain K: Classy grooves for dancefloor moves.

Séa: Lovely!

Simon Caldwell: Beautiful machine house music. Takes me back and takes me forward.

Satoshi Fumi: Really love all!

Severino Panzetta: Great sound.

Ame: Thanks for these.

DJ Merci: Top release!

Red D: So good I just had to release these J

The Yummy Fur’s first album of new material in over 25 years is seductive and ambiguous; a fast-paced flip through scenes from art, myth, life and fantasy; a witty whole made from glittering scraps. The band’s original incarnation – fronted by singer, songwriter and guitarist John McKeown from 1992 to 1999 – morphed from making quick-hit cartoon-art songs to Eno and Cale-influenced creepers, populated by characters from McKeown’s life in Glasgow and the films, books and poetry that he lived a parallel life through. Everybody Talks About The Weather delights in using every past iteration of the band as potent collage material: a melee of sounds and ideas existing at once, revealing themselves then dipping back into hiding.
Recorded by the original core trio of McKeown, Brian MacDougall (guitar) and Paul Thomson (drums), Everybody Talks About The Weather comes 17 years after the band reformed for sporadic live shows, and seven years after the release of their sorta-greatest hits compilation Piggy Wings (Rock Action). Ten tracks long with nothing to spare, it is as condensed and vital as their best songs, with a new clarity of sound that allows their ambiguities to come into the light.
The album begins with “Cogs”, a taunting inquisition from within. As McKeown stages a fight between his id and ego, the tension heats up between conversational guitar lines and minimalist repetition; threatening sing-song melody and real, palpable menace. The band members are forced in tandem only to break apart, sustaining a genuine sense of just-hidden danger throughout the whole record – except, arguably, “Headphones”, a looser moment which sees McKeown make an existential something out of nothing while waiting for someone in the car (“I should have brought a book.../My ears are bleeding from the compression on your album”)
The songs are riots of reference: “Unity Over Europe” is a slyly complex two act play about the Mitford sisters – Diana, Unity, and Nancy, in a wink to the YF canon – smashing tragic biographical detail together with allusions to Thomas Pynchon and Francis Bacon. Pynchon is also lifted to serve “Blue Sunshine”, a collision of school shooters, serial killers and fictional fuck-ups (“Fast forward to Compton/Fast forward to Pynchon/Fast forward to Columbine'”) whose buzzy guitar lines are taunting and confrontational like a smarmy teenager. The innocuous title of “My Lasagne” belies a song that exists in several time periods at once: a visit to see Guernica, 50 people with their backs to the portrait of Dora Maar; the time that Picasso painted from; the Reina Sofia and the dirty streets of the Malasaña; myth-making musicians and the myths they’re riffing off overlapping and leering at each other.
All this could be laboured in lesser hands, but cultural verbosity is second nature to The Yummy Fur, who transform all this source material into songs that are weird, sexy, funny and absurd. Meaning is not happily understood or flattened. Susan Sontag's essay Against Interpretation accompanied McKeown as he wrote this album, and she’s paraphrased in “Semolina Ballerina”, the album’s justification of artistic ambiguity. Thomson’s motorik beat leads a gathering of back-and-forth instrumental phrases – including a wiry contribution on saxophone – embodying the futility of trying to parse something definitive from repeated action. “Listen to the very first thing that’s in your head,” Sontag-via-McKeown commands directly, then slinks sideways: “Interpretation is a conversation in an unmade bed”
The album features two more focused portraits, or at least The Yummy Fur’s version of such a thing. “Wanda” merges the life of filmmaker Barbara Loden and the title character of her semi-autobiographical 1970 feature film, with Loden’s then-husband Elia Kazan joining the fray of no-good men in her film. It’s a mix of adaptation and avant-criticism, with McKeown’s wordplay and mannered pronunciation mirroring the way that non-fiction and fiction twist around each other in the song. The title track is a series of vignettes and impressions from the lives of the band’s ‘90s inner circle, positing painter Mac McNaughton as a kind of Falstaffian ringleader. As with Piggy Wings and the recent single “New T-Shirt”, McNaughton painted the cover of Everybody Talks About The Weather – like the album’s music, the image of a coy girl in a white dress is an uncanny amalgamation of styles, suggestions and references just out of reach, as though seen in an art museum in a dream.
The album ends with two reads of the same frustration. “King of Nothing” is the closest The Yummy Fur will ever get to sludge-rock: the band melts together into a dusty, dreary haze as McKeown drowns in a drudgery of personal struggle (“Two jumpers on in Babylon/And only cats to talk to”) and the rhythmic toppling of heroes (Rowlands, Duvall, Munro). The majority of visible dirt is cleaned off for “Say Hello”, an uncharacteristic depiction of throwing the windows open after a dark night of the soul. Here, the situation is still cold and hard (“When the sun burns gold, but the heat never reaches your fingertips”) but it feels surmountable. Everybody Talks About The Weather is an unpredictable album from an unpredictable group, but ending on a moment of almost uncomplicated light is maybe its biggest surprise. - Claire Biddles (2026)

The Yummy Fur’s first album of new material in over 25 years is seductive and ambiguous; a fast-paced flip through scenes from art, myth, life and fantasy; a witty whole made from glittering scraps. The band’s original incarnation – fronted by singer, songwriter and guitarist John McKeown from 1992 to 1999 – morphed from making quick-hit cartoon-art songs to Eno and Cale-influenced creepers, populated by characters from McKeown’s life in Glasgow and the films, books and poetry that he lived a parallel life through. Everybody Talks About The Weather delights in using every past iteration of the band as potent collage material: a melee of sounds and ideas existing at once, revealing themselves then dipping back into hiding.
Recorded by the original core trio of McKeown, Brian MacDougall (guitar) and Paul Thomson (drums), Everybody Talks About The Weather comes 17 years after the band reformed for sporadic live shows, and seven years after the release of their sorta-greatest hits compilation Piggy Wings (Rock Action). Ten tracks long with nothing to spare, it is as condensed and vital as their best songs, with a new clarity of sound that allows their ambiguities to come into the light.
The album begins with “Cogs”, a taunting inquisition from within. As McKeown stages a fight between his id and ego, the tension heats up between conversational guitar lines and minimalist repetition; threatening sing-song melody and real, palpable menace. The band members are forced in tandem only to break apart, sustaining a genuine sense of just-hidden danger throughout the whole record – except, arguably, “Headphones”, a looser moment which sees McKeown make an existential something out of nothing while waiting for someone in the car (“I should have brought a book.../My ears are bleeding from the compression on your album”)
The songs are riots of reference: “Unity Over Europe” is a slyly complex two act play about the Mitford sisters – Diana, Unity, and Nancy, in a wink to the YF canon – smashing tragic biographical detail together with allusions to Thomas Pynchon and Francis Bacon. Pynchon is also lifted to serve “Blue Sunshine”, a collision of school shooters, serial killers and fictional fuck-ups (“Fast forward to Compton/Fast forward to Pynchon/Fast forward to Columbine'”) whose buzzy guitar lines are taunting and confrontational like a smarmy teenager. The innocuous title of “My Lasagne” belies a song that exists in several time periods at once: a visit to see Guernica, 50 people with their backs to the portrait of Dora Maar; the time that Picasso painted from; the Reina Sofia and the dirty streets of the Malasaña; myth-making musicians and the myths they’re riffing off overlapping and leering at each other.
All this could be laboured in lesser hands, but cultural verbosity is second nature to The Yummy Fur, who transform all this source material into songs that are weird, sexy, funny and absurd. Meaning is not happily understood or flattened. Susan Sontag's essay Against Interpretation accompanied McKeown as he wrote this album, and she’s paraphrased in “Semolina Ballerina”, the album’s justification of artistic ambiguity. Thomson’s motorik beat leads a gathering of back-and-forth instrumental phrases – including a wiry contribution on saxophone – embodying the futility of trying to parse something definitive from repeated action. “Listen to the very first thing that’s in your head,” Sontag-via-McKeown commands directly, then slinks sideways: “Interpretation is a conversation in an unmade bed”
The album features two more focused portraits, or at least The Yummy Fur’s version of such a thing. “Wanda” merges the life of filmmaker Barbara Loden and the title character of her semi-autobiographical 1970 feature film, with Loden’s then-husband Elia Kazan joining the fray of no-good men in her film. It’s a mix of adaptation and avant-criticism, with McKeown’s wordplay and mannered pronunciation mirroring the way that non-fiction and fiction twist around each other in the song. The title track is a series of vignettes and impressions from the lives of the band’s ‘90s inner circle, positing painter Mac McNaughton as a kind of Falstaffian ringleader. As with Piggy Wings and the recent single “New T-Shirt”, McNaughton painted the cover of Everybody Talks About The Weather – like the album’s music, the image of a coy girl in a white dress is an uncanny amalgamation of styles, suggestions and references just out of reach, as though seen in an art museum in a dream.
The album ends with two reads of the same frustration. “King of Nothing” is the closest The Yummy Fur will ever get to sludge-rock: the band melts together into a dusty, dreary haze as McKeown drowns in a drudgery of personal struggle (“Two jumpers on in Babylon/And only cats to talk to”) and the rhythmic toppling of heroes (Rowlands, Duvall, Munro). The majority of visible dirt is cleaned off for “Say Hello”, an uncharacteristic depiction of throwing the windows open after a dark night of the soul. Here, the situation is still cold and hard (“When the sun burns gold, but the heat never reaches your fingertips”) but it feels surmountable. Everybody Talks About The Weather is an unpredictable album from an unpredictable group, but ending on a moment of almost uncomplicated light is maybe its biggest surprise. - Claire Biddles (2026)

The Version of Me You Get is a record about perspective, how life changes you, and who you are on the other side of it. Written and recorded in 2020 alongside longtime collaborator Sean McConnell, the album was born out of a rare stillness - a week spent holed up in the studio, building songs piece by piece with no outside noise and no deadline. Bowen had never had that kind of time with a record before. The result was something unhurried, deeply considered and wholly their own. Then life picked back up, and the album sat. Five years later, Bowen returned to the recordings and found something he didn't expect: the songs had grown. What was captured in 2020 as honest and uncertain had become something richer — shaped by everything that followed, personally and professionally. The distance didn't diminish the record. It deepened it. Spanning love, struggle, redemption, and vulnerability, The Version of Me You Get didn't just capture a moment in time, it gained meaning because of what came after. These songs finally found their moment. And it turns out, the wait made them better.

A classic album recorded in 1976, featuring a superb lineup including Sam Jones, Kazumi Watanabe, and Fumio Karashima, with expansive cello solos. Highlights include an exhilarating duo number with the seasoned bassist Sam Jones, as well as Kazumi Watanabe’s hip guitar solos throughout.



East Wind was a groundbreaking jazz label established in 1974 through the full cooperation of Ai Music, as it was then known, and Nippon Phonogram, as it was then known. Over a period of about five years, the label produced albums not only by Japanese musicians such as Masabumi Kikuchi, Sadao Watanabe, and Terumasa Hino, but also by musicians who were engaged in creative activity on the global jazz scene at the time. In addition to the quality of the performances, the artwork, created with leading designers and photographers, brought a fresh new image to jazz albums and had a major influence on later record production.

Kosuke Mine’s electric album, with a strong rock and funk flavor, is set for reissue as part of "Spin This Now!" Vol. 9. This classic album shines with the outstanding combination of Mine’s saxophone with a wah-wah pedal and Mikio Masuda’s psychedelic keyboards.

East Wind was a groundbreaking jazz label established in 1974 through the full cooperation of Ai Music, as it was then known, and Nippon Phonogram, as it was then known. Over a period of about five years, the label produced albums not only by Japanese musicians such as Masabumi Kikuchi, Sadao Watanabe, and Terumasa Hino, but also by musicians who were engaged in creative activity on the global jazz scene at the time. In addition to the quality of the performances, the artwork, created with leading designers and photographers, brought a fresh new image to jazz albums and had a major influence on later record production.

World-famous pianist Tsuyoshi Yamamoto’s second East Wind release, "Life," appears in the lineup for "Spin This Now!" Vol. 9. Backed by a golden rhythm section with Sam Jones on bass and Billy Higgins on drums, Yamamoto delivers a supremely swinging performance. His delicate ballad playing on "If You Could See Me Now" is also essential listening.

East Wind was a groundbreaking jazz label established in 1974 through the full cooperation of Ai Music, as it was then known, and Nippon Phonogram, as it was then known. Over a period of about five years, the label produced albums not only by Japanese musicians such as Masabumi Kikuchi, Sadao Watanabe, and Terumasa Hino, but also by musicians who were engaged in creative activity on the global jazz scene at the time. In addition to the quality of the performances, the artwork, created with leading designers and photographers, brought a fresh new image to jazz albums and had a major influence on later record production.

Bonding over a shared love of soul, jazz, funk and hip-hop, rapper Essa and producer / multi-instrumentalist J-Felix assembled a dream-team of top notch vocalists and players for this collective effort.



The result? Driving beats, poignant bars, soulful hooks and stirring brass.



The collective includes vocalists Avijè, Vanya Lyma, Marshall Mandiangu and Jerry Clavier, with Jack Kendon on horns and a guest appearance from your favourite drummer’s favourite drummer, Richard Spaven.



With his customary wit and masterful flow, Essa speaks on finding truth, confronting ego, eloping to the tropics and breaking generational curses. The esteemed lyricist was a key figure in UK Hip-Hop’s heralded “golden era”, alongside contemporaries and collaborators Jehst, Klashnekoff and TY, performing and recording with such luminaries as De La Soul, Wu-Tang Clan, Guru, Slum Village and Pharoahe Monch, winning praise from Nas and Mark Ronson.



J-Felix’s rich production takes in neo-soul, UK Jazz, boogie and hip-hop. His signature “J-Funk” style evokes classic samples but with all-original playing from the versatile multi- instrumentalist, who has worked with Swindle, Kojey Radical, Mahalia and Alice Russell.



The Fifth Foundation’s explosive live experience ranges from a versatile MC/DJ set-up to a full live band, with horns and multiple vocalists, mixing originals from this bold debut with inspiration from timeless soul, jazz, funk and rap classics.

“Music for me, is rarely complete,” says GODFLESH mastermind Justin Broadrick, “but it has to reach a point where enough is enough. Creatively, there has to be self-discipline. One has to end it.” Broadrick is primarily referring to the nebulous process of writing and arranging songs into their various potential shapes, but he could just as easily be describing GODFLESH’s imminent conclusion. Just three years after the hypnotic crunch of Purge, 25 years after an uncertain hiatus that nearly scuttled the band, and 38 years since GODFLESH’s inception, Broadrick and bassist-at-arms Ben Green set out to mercilessly crush this cold world with their tenth and penultimate album, this year’s Decay. “Decay was born from the same sessions as Purge,” Broadrick declares of the new record’s six tracks. “It was one huge pool of songs. I picked what I felt was appropriate for what I wanted to achieve with Purge, with the intention of releasing the songs that didn't fit as a new album within a year of Purge being released. Unfortunately, two years passed whilst considering external labels, so that I didn't have to self-release GODFLESH anymore, but it took an awful lot of time to establish a comfortable home for me. The recordings were done, but as usual for me, I did change a lot of stuff once I came back to it.” Now, GODFLESH is ready to unleash an even bolder, bleaker series of sounds in Decay. These songs arrive shortly after Broadrick released a public statement about major abdominal surgery he underwent earlier this year.

Hailing from Providencia, Colombia (Old Providence Island), Henner, Derrick, Luis, Feliciano and Senen are the Black Diamonds; a band that seamlessly blends the irresistible grooves of reggae with the infectious rhythms of calypso, creating a sound that is both timeless and refreshingly original.

For years, Black Diamonds have been synonymous with the laid-back, soulful reggae sound of Old Providence Island, crafting songs that reflect the Caribbean's easy rhythms and rich cultural heritage. Their debut release, however, takes an unexpected—and thoroughly enjoyable—detour into upbeat calypso, proving that the band is more than capable of stepping outside its comfort zone.

"De Seh Seh" (gossip.. chat and talk to much about the others in Creole) also features a remix by Venezuelan producer and multi-instrumentalist Caribombo, who transforms the song into a dancefloor-ready journey, blending electronic textures with soukous-inspired Afro-house rhythms for a bold, cross-Caribbean reinterpretation.