Steve Bicknell, Lost recordings 3. 'When Things Of The Spirit Come First', remastered by Peter Van Hoesen at Memento Mastering and reimagined label art.
Steve Bicknell's releases on Lost recordings were produced for, and to reflect, theLost dance-floor, the legendary event series in London, which ran from 1991 to 2014.
'When Things Of The Spirit Come First' was originally released in 1997 on Lost recordings, a subsidiary of Cosmic Records. Lost recordings emerged in 1996 with two seminal releases from Steve Bicknell that year: Lost recordings 1 'Why? And For Whom? And Lost recordings 2 'How Can We Know?.
Steve Bicknell's productions continuously open the door to a whole new side of techno which is still to this day often emulated, cementing Steve Bicknell's landmark status.
'When Things Of The Spirit Come First'. The first in a series from Steve Bicknell's past productions to be released on his s-b-productions imprint.
Journeys are never just about distance. They stretch time, reshape perception, and demand transformation. With its latest vinyl split EP, Standard Deviation presents four tracks by Nastya Vogan and Phase Fatale that serves as a vessel for tracing displacement, memory, and the liminality of return. These melancholic yet powerful techno cuts serve both the concrete dance floor and moments of intimate self-reflection. Two artists--Nastya Vogan and Phase Fatale--approach Kyiv from different trajectories, but they both keep returning to the city. Vogan, a Ukrainian musician and resident DJ of Kyiv, and Phase Fatale (Hayden Payne), Berlin-based producer, Berghain and Khidi resident and founder of BITE Records, share a longstanding musical friendship. They've played B2B sets at K41 and Vogan, appeared on BITE's ''Shedding Skin'' compilation in 2023, and they share a vision for music selection, from aesthetics to philosophy. Vogan's 'Transitioning Territory' and 'This Is Not a Love Song' unravel the psycho-geography of transition. The first track captures the 24-hour journey to Kyiv as a rite of passage where 'time seems to fold; you are profoundly present yet paradoxically far from the world you left.' In this suspended state, memories surface and ordinary life recedes as the train's rhythm becomes its own meditation. Her second track explores Lacanian limerence--consciously falling for something not fully known, filling absences with personal projections as a way to discover what lies within oneself. Phase Fatale's contributions capture movement and distance with mechanical precision. 'Kekkai,' takes its name from the Japanese word for boundary, echoing 'respect my borders' ethos while reflecting on crossing into wartime Ukraine. The term also suggests a protective force field in Buddhist thought--much like Kyiv's current aura of resistance. 'Neosyazhna Rosa' (Unreachable Rose) honors Payne's Ukrainian grandmother Rose, weaving family history into his present connection with Ukraine. Both pieces balance melancholy with light, their sound palette of lush pads and rhythmic breaks crafted with K41's dance floor in mind.
The strange thing about the music of Anima is that it’s often considered as strange, while it’s actually very natural. It has a free spirit, analog to nature. For this release the natural spirit is strengthened by the participation of indigenous American flute player and composer R. Carlos Nakai who did a series of concerts in the US and Europe with Paul and Limpe Fuchs in the 1980’s. As with almost all Anima work, the natural feel manifests itself not only by the musical approach and sounds generated by metal, wood, stone and air, but also by the absence of electronic devices.
This LP is a reissue of a rare privately released cassette from 1988 and was recorded by the Bayerischer Rundfunk. May this slice of timeless free spirit be a trigger to more awareness concerning our decaying freedom.
After a long absence, Forbidden Teachings returns with a new vinyl
release from artist Mind I Matter. This EP can be interpreted as a
reflection of the current era, where inequality and injustice have
become the norm. As hope begins to fade, the artist proposes a
journey into the heart of the workings of the human mind which could
relate to the origins of this situation. Is humanity imperfect at its core, or is our condition the direct consequence of an imperfect world? Could it be that, in the midst of all this pain and suffering, we all have an individual responsibility? With four cutting-edge tracks, Mind I Matter offers a window into what these questions might imply. Ultimately, this EP testifies to the label's commitment to offering experiences that transcend our earthly senses
(comes with a poster) The Klein blue horizon, gliding seagulls, a ferry purring between two languid islands, dotted with ultra-white villages and ancient ruins... These idyllic visions run through Glika, the ultimate musical project of Les Cyclades. An exciting electronic odyssey from West to East, from Belgian effervescence to Greek mysticism.
In 2020, confined to the neighborhoods of Yser and Mystère in Brussels, Alex and Ludo dream of Greek islands, of scorching sun on their skin, of salty baths, chilled ouzo and braised octopus. But everywhere, time stands still. Must one necessarily move to travel? To levitate? In the absence of Elsewhere, the Franco-Canadian duo will compose the imaginary soundtrack to their escape.
Glika (which means "sweet" in Greek) perfectly synthesizes the musical influences of Les Cyclades: a cosmic saxophone inherited from Alex’s dub and free jazz past, an architect-pastry chef-botanist from Normandy, and Ludo’s "Balearic" tracks, a musician-performer-wine lover who frequented his first raves in 1995 in Houston, Texas.
From a hedonistic encounter on a friendly terrace in the 19th arrondissement of Paris to their chosen exile in Brussels, these hypersensitive jacks-of-all-trades first danced and mixed records. Before creating their own phantasmagorical sonic territories, where cinema and poetry meet more or less human voices, brass instruments, synthesizers and analogue drum machines.
A searing fragment of Greek filmmaker Theo Angelopoulos's "Eternity and a Day" preludes Glika. Then, on Yser Mystère - the names of the two stations on tram 51 that physically linked Alex and Ludo's psyches during the lockdown - Alex's astral sax balances out the industrial mechanics of a locomotive, against a backdrop of urban soundscapes.
And then a rising bpm dominates Alocasia, with its deep and sensual light foot. So sunny. From one track to another, there are interludes influenced by Xenakis, Vangelis and Jean-Michel Jarre. Seminal heroes of the Cyclades... But soon, the duo unleash hostilities at the helm of Epigone, their meta-techno anthem. "I know", "You know", echoes Alex.
Laughs of friends, "mouth noises," and "bizarre rhythms" still dominate Parc Fou, while DRAM eyes the minimalist techno of Detroit. So dear to Ludo's heart... And what about PAME, that post-modern Greek epic.Or Glossa, a timeless track that finishes with a fascinating - because diffracted - elegance, this multi-sensory journey through Les Cyclades. Let's close our eyes. Silencio! Hay Banda!
Created by musician and multi-instrumentalist Jorge Queijo, Nelembe emerged with some drum rhythms recorded at random and stored on a hard drive. From them, and in the middle of the pandemic, Jorge Queijo built a musical concept that goes beyond borders and styles, embracing afrobeat and highlife, without forgetting soul, funk and jazz all of which in constant confrontation.
In addition to the rhythmic and sound issue, with several latitudes within it, afrobeat translates into a revolutionary and combative behavioral DNA of the fight for freedom and social justice. Daniel Belo's vocals and saxophonist João Cabrita's arrangements defined what the band came to call dirty afrobeat - a musical celebration where the only rule is the absence of rules, and the desire to be free that only music gives us.
Bread & Souls is an ensemble of musicians, singers, DJs, producers and most of all, friends: a global family brought together by Franco Fusari under the musical direction of producer/electronic jazz pioneer Mark de Clive-Lowe.
Chapter 1 features vocal and instrumental tracks kicking off with an incredible exclusive: for the first time together on the same track West London Queens Bémbé Segue and Vanessa Freeman deliver a broken beat future classic. Paul Randolph features on a superb boogie tune, while Domu delivers an amazing remix of “Little Did I Know” - after almost a decade’s absence, he’s as brilliant as ever. And all supported by a great band: MdCL (keys), Tommaso Cappellato (drums), Marcus Machado and Landy Shores (guitars), Max Luthert (bass), Taku Hirano (percussion).
‘Double Pink’ is the debut album by And Is Phi (Andrea Isabelle Phillips), a multidisciplinary artist from Norway and the Philippines now based in South East London. ‘Double Pink’ is a nuanced world that draws on colours and texture; with influences of Joni Mitchell and Frank Zappa, 90's R&B and Madlib’s ‘Shades Of Blue’ blending languidly to produce a base for uncovering layers of self, a deep release, and fragile new form.
Written by Andrea and co-produced with Fiona Roberts and Lorenz Okello over a nine month period; ‘Double Pink’ thematically explores the many movements of internal change, speaking from a deep inner voice inside the body. The title track is an invitation to be as unapologetically hungry as you please after a long absence of life giving passion and trust in oneself. ‘White Noise’ is a recovery song playing in your soul the first time you made it back out to the dance floor after a heart break so massive it laid rest to the person you used to be. Songs like ‘Working’ and ‘Staaar’ come from a candid and contemplative aspect. Stages of grief and resilience and wonder and wisdom are all touched upon.
“The album explores metamorphosis, liminal spaces, and the multiple faces of love”, says Andrea. “I mention love as a key ingredient, because anyone who has had to push and pull and hold and yield themselves through great loss and transformation knows it ain’t gonna happen without love. Tough times ask for double love, a stronger heart, something like a double pink”.
Andrea’s story dots between periods spent living in Norway, the Philippines and England - experiencing joy and beauty battling corruption and violence in Manila, DJing in Oslo, losing her sizable record collection in a warehouse fire before making friends and family in the jazz scene in London. Every story needs a scene, a landscape, an environment; all things Andrea visualises when writing songs.
“At my heart I am emotional and imaginative, searching for freedom for my spirit. What grounds it all is coming from a family of storytellers. My father played drums and percussion, he was a great dancer and a true collector and connoisseur of music from everywhere. My wise mother instilled in me a sense of faith and grace”.
Andrea is far from new to the scene, having performed with Steamdown, Emma Jean Thackray, Hector Plimmer, Scrimshire, William Florelle and many more as a valuable and inspiring creative force within the South London music scene. Andrea also created the album’s artwork and music videos: musicality and painting evolved from her initial creative languages of drawing and dance. All aspects are dialects of her common language: singing what can’t be painted and painting what can’t be sung.
For more than twenty years, Roel Funcken has been a cornerstone in electronic experimentation. Alongside his brother Don, this Dutch sound sculptor melted hip-hop, industrial and soundscapes under monikers like Funckarma and Shadow Huntaz. A prolific solo musician and collaborator as well, Funcken teams up with Cor Bolten to revive the Legiac project with the eight tracks of Banisteriopsis Caapi. Keys appear through a sorrowful haze in "Mimosa Hostilis", this machined mist difussing as distorted strings penetrate before a dawning of icy brightness. Modulated forms and shapes billow in the bubble and trill of "Pyschotria Viridis" before the orbiting interference and introspection of "Epicatechine." Percussion is reduced to a texture, the duo finding structure in droplets of water, the stretch of steel and a litany of field recordings. The partnership dive deep into their chosen sounds, elongating and expanding tones to find harmony in the absence and isolation that is their focus. Pieces like "Solanaceae" bristle with an understated elegance, like starlight piercing a brooding night sky, while "Banisteriopsis Caapi" finds an eerie solace in its repurposing of voice as an undulating elegy. Legiac achieve a distant intimacy with their listener, a relationship forged through complex compositions, gentle movements and subtle shifts.
Angelo is an LP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist/singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy’s father and both of Stuart’s parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the
Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo’s sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, “to get us out of our grief and into our bodies,” says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal — a resourceful, collective answer to “what happens now?”
Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. “Such a bro-y, ‘80s dude car, it’s been super fun to drive around in a new town,” Murphy says. “He’s older than us, he’s a classic, he’s got a story.” It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, “Which Way To The Club.” The question is quickly resolved by “Take A Trip” as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip — the kind of
imagined space or chamber within one’s self capable of “shifting a fraction of who you are,” says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be “as free as we could be,” adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: ”What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room.”
Next is “Shy Guy,” a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: “We are in junior high, we’re on the dance floor, what’s going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?” The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. “Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too,” Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one — something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, “It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission.”
“Angelo” and “Ooo La La” deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean’s catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo’s dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude “Colors” drifting into “Where Do We Go?”, a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space.
It all culminates in “Caldwell’s Way,” a fond farewell to their Bay Area community — “a part of my life that I knew couldn’t come back,” says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There’s the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: “I’d rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars.” And the song’s namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. “I’m only miles away, maybe I’m just feeling lonely,” the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and “Nostalgia” runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.
Drumcode’s beloved A-Sides compilation makes a welcome return after a two-year absence, with a mammoth 25-track feast covering every shade of the techno spectrum split across seven, 12 inch parts. The project was devised in 2012 as a way of showcasing the wealth of strong material Adam Beyer receives each year, which due to Drumcode’s busy release schedule, might not otherwise find a home on the label. Since then, it’s grown to become an essential fixture on the techno release schedule and a marker for where the genre stands in any given year.
For part four, Nicolas Taboada cranks the dial on ‘Circles’ melding breakbeats with modulated vocal samples and underlying techno power, as BEC hits with ‘Vibration’ a ferocious, siren signalling rocket.
On the flip, Avision’s ‘Find Myself’ leads listeners into a state of hypnosis with warped vocal refrains, storming kicks and rising synths. Closing out the EP Cosmic Boys unleash a robot wielding, trance flavoured whirlwind.
Encounters with the ineffable.
The dormant roused.
Openness, observation, questioning, humility, sincerity.
Re-imagining the known, that which is untapped, all that was concealed.
Pathways to wholeness unearthed.
Meeting of truest self.
Temporal versus infinite.
The fallout.
Sudden disintegration, falling away, continuity shattered.
Facade ruptured, persona released, identity laid bare, history withdrawn.
Appearance of no-thing-ness.
Pregnant with possibilities, birth out of chaos, mystery unfolds.
Healing through anguish, renewal through trauma.
Newborn imaginings.
Accept the summons.
Chapters of lucidity, adventures in clarity.
Alignment in harmony.
All encompassing.
Reorientation emerges, subsequent renewal, transcendent insights, enlightened revelations.
Surrender reached, acceptance embraced, liberation appears.
Transmutation.
Solemn symbols of gratitude.
New found depth of meaning, of understanding, of moving, of seeing.
Beyond mental illusion, unifying as nature, expression of stillness.
Vision of the undivided, transmission of wisdom.
Spanish producer Pedro Vian is dreaming of the sea on “Ibillorca”, his third studio album.
Vian, whose Modern Obscure Music label is at the heart of the Barcelona electronic scene, moved to Amsterdam in 2018. While the Dutch capital has embraced this inventive producer and DJ, Vian says the new album is inspired by a feelings of absence and longing for his Mediterranean home. “On this album I explore my feelings of missing the light,” he says. “Ibillorca is a journey to a utopian island, a journey to a new state of mind.”
You can hear this displaced utopia on songs like “Can Mortera”, a dreamy reflection on house music, recorded in Ibiza in summer 2019, that brings to mind Larry Heard at his most meditative; or “Medusa” (featuring artist Rosalie Wammes), which sounds like Tangerine Dream drifting over the sea.
The Quietus called Pedro Vian’s debut album “Beautiful Things You Left Us For Memories” “the soundtrack to walking around the city at night”, while his eponymous second album was both deeply personal and more suited for the dance floor. “Ibillorca” is his Mediterranean album. “I love the Mediterranean sea,” Vian explains. “I come from there and I miss the light, the sun and the smell of the sea, so I dedicated this album to this feeling.” Fittingly, “Ibillorca”’s enigmatic cover art, painted by Spanish artist Blanca Miró, depicts the Mediterranean islands of Ibiza & Mallorca
“Ibillorca” is also Vian’s most varied release to date: “The Destiny Manifest” nods to drum and bass - albeit a touchingly Iberian take on the genre - while “Western Snow” has a hint of Erik Satie’s piano minimalism. Vian’s new home in The Netherlands also played a role in shaping “Ibillorca” .Vian recorded the album during his residency at HetHEM, a new contemporary space in Zandaam, 30 minutes from Amsterdam. “I have my studio at the top of the building, from there I can see all the boats going up and down the river IJ,” Vian says. “The art space is located in an industrial area, everything is grey, also the sky.” All the better, then, for dreaming of the sea.
Love or its absence dominates the intimate songs on the new album from ARBORIST – the musical outlet of Mark McCambridge. Looking For Love, Arborist’s fourth album of exquisitely inventive Americana, places us firmly in his hometown of Belfast, allowing it to act as a microcosm of the wider-world, with all its foibles and charms. We find fictional protagonists scouring the dark corners of the city, wiling-away afternoons in strip clubs, wandering the streets in all weather and reflecting on the harsh reality of modern society, all in search of an elusive love – emphasising our need for it now more than ever.
Looking for Love is ARBORIST’s first album to be self-produced by McCambridge, largely from his home studio in Belfast – and at times it feels like we are in the room with him. It’s a different kind of record for him as previously he has always sought collaboration; whether it be with Kim Deal who chose to sing intertwined harmony on his debut single “Twisted Arrow”, or recording in The Curfew Tower owned by The KLF’s Bill Drummond who described Mark’s songwriting as being “riven with more loss than any record since Leonard Cohen quit this world”, and who Matthew E White and his Spacebomb band collaborated with to such astonishing effect on the previous Arborist LP, 2023’s An Endless Sequence of Dead Zeros, winner of the prestigious Northern Ireland Music Prize. This time, with no outside producer steering the way, McCambridge found that the quiet hours were where he felt most at ease, despite periods of trial and error, and, by his own admission, moments of feeling genuinely lost in it all.
Despite playing many of the parts himself, McCambridge still called upon old friends from the community around him; Spacebomb’s resident bassist Cameron Ralston (Bonnie Light Horseman, Hiss Golden Messenger) again features throughout the record, alongside Eamon Ferris (The Waterboys) on drums, with the great and the good from Belfast’s vibrant music scene. Grainne Meyer plays concert harp and Aga Olek plays violin for the quasi-title track “Looking 4 Love” – an off-kilter love-letter to Belfast. Meilana Gillard provides a sleazy saxophone on “Bye Bye Johnny Cash” – a seedy tale of a man obsessively visiting a dancer in a club, and The Larne Community Youth Choir provide backing vocals for “Go Kill The Fatted Calf” – a song Mark wrote about his son growing up, a take on the parable of the prodigal son, with Jonny Ashe’s blistering guitar solo adding an album highlight. The Errigal Ensemble String Quartet and Aisling Agnew’s breathtaking flute solo feature on “What Is It You’re Asking” – a song about love, or its absence, both personally and universally in these times.
McCambridge was recently honoured with a “Fellowship” by the Seamus Heaney Centre at Queen's University Belfast where he collaborated with such illustrious names from the literary world as Nick Laird, Caoilinn Hughes and Conor McPherson. Through the University he was given access to the music department's Steinways and pipe organs, and decided to try one out for the album’s centrepiece “I’ve Been A Flaneur”. As Mark explains, "The drone on the pipe organ — and the sound of it starting and stopping — was so visceral that I decided to try a half-written song against it right there and then, and this came out in one take… The song was a breakthrough artistically - I don't think I'll ever record in the same way again after this."
The album was engineered by longtime collaborator Ben McAuley (Van Morrison) and mixed by Jimmy Robertson (Anna Calvi, Beth Gibbons, Fat Dog). The results are staggering, devastating and uplifting in equal measure, calling to mind albums such as Songs Ohia’s Magnolia Electric Co., The Divine Comedy’s Regeneration, The Blue Nile’s Hats and Wilco’s Ode to Joy, as well as early-70s records from John Cale, John Lennon and Bill Fay.
Belfast native Mark McCambridge played his first show as Arborist supporting James Yorkston. A solo tour followed, and impressive performances led to notable support slots alongside Low, Cat Power, Echo & The Bunnymen and Guy Garvey. Arborist's debut single, the Americana-tinged "Twisted Arrow," caught the attention of the critics with an astonishing duet with Kim Deal of The Breeders. The debut album Home Burial (2016) and its follow-up, A Northern View, both received glowing praise, from The Guardian ("instant classic" ----) to MOJO ("devastatingly bleak… upliftingly beautiful" ----) to Uncut (8/10), with BBC 6 Music play from Cerys Matthews, Cillian Murphy, Lauren Laverne, Radcliffe and Maconie and Gideon Coe — and Steve Lamacq calling single "Taxi" "one of those records that makes you immediately stop what you're doing." He went on to even greater success with the 2023 Northern Irish Music Prize winning third LP, An Endless Sequence of Dead Zeroes, which was recorded at SpaceBomb Studios in Virginia with musician and producer Matthew E White. For his fourth LP, Looking For Love, he has signed with Fika Recordings and with a tour approaching in November, 2026 looks set to be a seminal year for the Irish artist.
These two very different sessions involving John Surman and Mike Osborne have much in common. They both share a wonderful sense of liberation, of the joy of making music together and of finding collectively new ways of making jazz happen. And even more importantly, they speak volumes about the eclecticism and openness of British jazz in those years of the mid- to late-sixties and about the creative ambitions of John Surman. In the current absence in the market of his first LP, this is an essential purchase for Surman fans. Notes by Duncan Heining with suggestions from John Surman. These sessions have never previously appeared officially in any form.
Side One 26.2.67 - Mike Osborne (as), John Surman (ss, bs), Harry Miller (b), Alan Jackson (d) - Side Two 17.7.68 - Sterling Betancourt for Alan Jackson and add Russ Henderson (p)
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A Flower to Water, the staggering new album from Greek Progressive-Post Metal outfit Playgrounded, finds the five-piece pushing their boundaries even further; welcoming the unquantifiable depths of loss, grief and finitude into their meticulous, fractal process as friends in defiance of neglect. Hailing from Athens, Greece but predominantly based in Rotterdam, Netherlands, Playgrounded have never ceased to push the envelope of Post Metal with genre-defying contemporary electronic and cinematic neo-classical elements since the band's inception almost two decades ago. A Flower to Water is Playgrounded's third full-length offering and sees the band thriving in their creative relationship with Pelagic Records. Recorded and produced by the band across multiple studios back home in Athens and Rotterdam, Playgrounded enlisted the help of longtime collaborators C. Cederberg (Leprous, Anathema) who mixed the album at Cederberg Studios in Kristiansand, Norway and George Tandero (Madrugada, Satyricon, Jaga Jazzist) who mastered it in Oslo. A profound sense of patience is keenly felt throughout the album. The deliberate spaces between each hammerblow guitar riff, pulsing bass line or hypnotic drum groove; each heavy, breathless pause and fizzing glitchy whisper all tell of unspoken loss and absence as an indelible part of A Flower to Water and indeed of Playgrounded forever more. In marking this absence however, in embracing loss head on, Playgrounded reify memory in defiance of neglect. By extracting such a colossal, breathtaking piece of work from a seemingly unassuming collection of sounds, clips and sonics; the quintet slow time to a standstill to present grief in bloom; a beautiful, perpetual flower with its roots in loved ones lost. FOR FANS OF Karnivool, Katatonia, Nine Inch Nails, Deftones, Moderat, The Ocean, Vola, Leprous, Skyharbor, Anathema
A Flower to Water, the staggering new album from Greek Progressive-Post Metal outfit Playgrounded, finds the five-piece pushing their boundaries even further; welcoming the unquantifiable depths of loss, grief and finitude into their meticulous, fractal process as friends in defiance of neglect. Hailing from Athens, Greece but predominantly based in Rotterdam, Netherlands, Playgrounded have never ceased to push the envelope of Post Metal with genre-defying contemporary electronic and cinematic neo-classical elements since the band's inception almost two decades ago. A Flower to Water is Playgrounded's third full-length offering and sees the band thriving in their creative relationship with Pelagic Records. Recorded and produced by the band across multiple studios back home in Athens and Rotterdam, Playgrounded enlisted the help of longtime collaborators C. Cederberg (Leprous, Anathema) who mixed the album at Cederberg Studios in Kristiansand, Norway and George Tandero (Madrugada, Satyricon, Jaga Jazzist) who mastered it in Oslo. A profound sense of patience is keenly felt throughout the album. The deliberate spaces between each hammerblow guitar riff, pulsing bass line or hypnotic drum groove; each heavy, breathless pause and fizzing glitchy whisper all tell of unspoken loss and absence as an indelible part of A Flower to Water and indeed of Playgrounded forever more. In marking this absence however, in embracing loss head on, Playgrounded reify memory in defiance of neglect. By extracting such a colossal, breathtaking piece of work from a seemingly unassuming collection of sounds, clips and sonics; the quintet slow time to a standstill to present grief in bloom; a beautiful, perpetual flower with its roots in loved ones lost. FOR FANS OF Karnivool, Katatonia, Nine Inch Nails, Deftones, Moderat, The Ocean, Vola, Leprous, Skyharbor, Anathema
Burns with brothers Brian and Ewan Mcfie at Glasgow School of Art in the early 1980s. Drawing comparisons to Simple Minds, U2 and R.E.M, their post-punk sound attracted attention from John Peel who aired their single Too Late in 1984. The band signed to A&M and released Real Surprise in 1985 which became a BBC Radio 1 Single of the Week. However, like many bands of the time, their recording deal collapsed. For decades, all that remained were those two singles and a box of unreleased demos. During lockdown, the band revisited the tapes, finally bringing a remarkable lost chapter of Scottish post- punk back to life. In 2025 the band decamped to Beetroot Studios in Airdrie with producer Stuart MacLeod to work on new material. Rhythm of Lies is released by Last Night From Glasgow on blue vinyl and CD. This album is a must have for new and returning fans alike.
My fourth album begins and ends in nature, a space that has continually shaped and inspired my artistic work. I spend much of my time in forests and landscapes, listening, observing, and absorbing the subtle rhythms and structures of the natural environment. These impressions do more than accompany my music; they become an integral part of it, influencing its atmosphere, form, and sonic character. As a result, this has become my most emotional and profound album to date. The journey begins with captured moments from a Mediterranean island. Fragments of distant church bells, the ticking of a clock, and the hum of insects in the sun are gently joined by my piano... In this way, the opening piece, “Time,” serves as an introduction to the central idea behind Ellipsis. The term derives from the Ancient Greek word λλειψις (élleipsis) and refers to the deliberate omission of ἔ words or parts of a sentence.
What remains unsaid can carry just as much meaning as what is spoken. This idea runs like a thread throughout the entire album. A reduction to the essential, yet enriched with the necessary details that continually create space for imagination, personal interpretation, and those emotions that are not prescribed but emerge through the act of listening. Ellipsis exists within this tension between presence and absence, between acoustic and electronic sounds, between nature and the studio, between memory and perception. It is a place where meaning arises not only from what is audible, but also from what remains unspoken.
Cities blurred into one another. Borders became routine. Airports, night drives, ferry ports, backstage rooms, festival fields, hotel corridors, and long-distance journeys stitched together into a single continuous life of movement. Success, such as it existed, was measured in miles travelled, crowds gathered, and momentum sustained. The band moved because they had to. Because stopping felt like failure. Because “making it” always seemed to live somewhere just ahead.
Then the world stopped.
Lockdown didn’t just interrupt EYRE LLEW’s trajectory; it dismantled it. The relentless forward motion that had shaped their identity for over a decade disappeared overnight. Tours vanished. Plans dissolved. The infrastructure of their lives as musicians collapsed into silence. For a band built on movement, it felt devastating.
Written across lockdown and the years that followed, the album is not a record about absence; it’s a record about presence. About love that feels like home. About stillness as strength. About devotion without spectacle. About grief without melodrama. About healing without performative optimism. About growth that doesn’t announce itself loudly, but happens slowly, privately, and honestly.
After years of movement, it is EYRE LLEW learning how to stand still and discovering that this is where the real growth starts.
Cities blurred into one another. Borders became routine. Airports, night drives, ferry ports, backstage rooms, festival fields, hotel corridors, and long-distance journeys stitched together into a single continuous life of movement. Success, such as it existed, was measured in miles travelled, crowds gathered, and momentum sustained. The band moved because they had to. Because stopping felt like failure. Because “making it” always seemed to live somewhere just ahead.
Then the world stopped.
Lockdown didn’t just interrupt EYRE LLEW’s trajectory; it dismantled it. The relentless forward motion that had shaped their identity for over a decade disappeared overnight. Tours vanished. Plans dissolved. The infrastructure of their lives as musicians collapsed into silence. For a band built on movement, it felt devastating.
Written across lockdown and the years that followed, the album is not a record about absence; it’s a record about presence. About love that feels like home. About stillness as strength. About devotion without spectacle. About grief without melodrama. About healing without performative optimism. About growth that doesn’t announce itself loudly, but happens slowly, privately, and honestly.
After years of movement, it is EYRE LLEW learning how to stand still and discovering that this is where the real growth starts.
Kaiso Power is a collection of rare jazz, calypso and percussive gems from Trinidad and Tobago from the revolutionary generation of the 1970s, bringing radical new political vision and reclaiming ancient spiritual consciousness through music. At the dawn of the 70s a shift was taking place all around the world. The streets of Port of Spain thronged with Black Power marches, trade union demonstrations and Carnival protest bands - one epicentre in a growing global exchange of ideologies and strategies among Pan Africanist circles in Jamaica, Guyana, London, New York, Montreal, Lagos, Accra and beyond. And when the meetings were over, the revolution moved to the cramped secret dance halls, the Carnival fetes, the steelband yards. The music always had a sharp edge. Searing commentary has always been part of the various types of music in Trinidad, and in the absence of lyrics, the defiant use of the drum maintains the resistance, as well as the re-framing of the playing of European instruments to the needs of the message. Lancelot Layne, Delano Abdul Malik De Coteau, Andre Tanker, Clive Zanda, Mansa Musa were more than artists, they were teachers, community workers and advocates for justice. These recordings are as raw as an all-night Carnival jam, the horns loud, the percussion ringing out, the bass dripping with joy and rebellion. Under the modern influences is a solid rhythm, an unbroken connection to Africa, the songs and keys and cadences brought across the middle passage. These songs are a peep into the untapped treasures of a revolutionary generation, looking at the world with fresh eyes and believing that music was a central part of the mission to build consciousness and regain confidence.
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“I like to work with a variety of instruments and set ups,” says Mark Van Hoen, sometimes known as Locust or Autocreation but here working under his own name on the excellent Plan For A Miracle, his first physical release of solo music since 2018’s Invisible Threads. ”Sometimes it’s literally in my studio, with all the hardware electronics available. Sometimes the laptop, using software instruments. Some of the tracks on this record were recorded in the desert (Joshua Tree) using a 4-track tape machine and small modular synthesiser set up. Each track was recorded in different location using different instruments, which accounts for the distinction between each piece. It’s also about my own reaction to my environment, and what’s going on in my life at the time.”
The Croydon-born Van Hoen started musical life in the early 1990s, signing for R&S records in 1993 but developing his own, myriad and distinctive style across a range of releases on Touch, Editions Mego and other labels, using a battery of instruments, including analogue synthesizers and taking a number of different approaches to recording, rather than ploughing a single sonic furrow. He has worked on a number of collaborations, including with Nick Holton and Neil Halstead of Slowdive, under the moniker of Black Hearted Brother - their Stars Are Our Home was released in 2013. “I have known Neil Halstead since 1992,” says Van Hoen. “He shared a house with me for a couple of years, and the music I was making and listening to along with clubs I was attending had an influence particularly on Pygmalion, the final Slowdive album on Creation.”
Each track on Plan For A Miracle does indeed sound like a world unto itself, a mini-environment, a weather condition, an ecosystem created for the moment. It’s a collection of tracks recorded over the past few years, released on Bandcamp - despite his apparent absence, Van Hoen works constantly. Opener “Climates”, in its exquisite limpidity, feels like a homage to Brian Eno, one of his most formative influences in his teen years, commencing with Music For Films, which he bought in 1979. “This Is For Them”, feels like a ghostlike throwback to early drum & bass or electronica, reminiscent of his own, earliest outings. “There have been a number of requests from labels to make some more music like my very early releases on R&S,” says Van Hoen. “This is part of ‘letting go’ and realising that there’s nothing less creative about going back to those styles again.”
“Pencil Of Spheres” is something else again, a magnificent, imaginary glass structure, shimmering, refracting, without visible means of suspension, a thing of impossible beauty. “Electric Lights” evokes an abandoned fairground, its lights still pulsating, its music lingering. “The Underpass”, meanwhile, insofar as it reminds of anything at all, is faintly reminiscent of Cluster or Neu’s! West German ambience, the urban mundane rendered magical, the sodium lights, the whitewashed walls. The reverberant, faintly oriental chimes of “Insight” transport us yet again, burgeoning and intensifying.
The landscapes, the skyscapes rendered on Plan For A Miracle feel unpopulated as a rule - but when he does introduce vocal elements, Van Hoen has a history of doing so to spectacular effect - think of “Real Love” from 1998’s Playing With Time, the seductive intonation of its title recurring throughout like a series of massive holograms, echoing, stuttering, breaking up, surging. Here, there are just the faintest of vocals, barely distinct, disquieting. “There’s been a bit of a game changer in recent times,” explains Van Hoen. “AI software that enables you to extract vocals and instrument parts from virtually any recording. That means sampling individual parts from existing sources is no longer limited to the original mix exposing certain parts soloed. The vocal parts I use are from multiple sources and often pitch shifted altered rhythmically and melodically.“ There’s further vocal chatter on “I Really Do”, proceeding at a faster pace as if giving chase, or being pursued - distant, enigmatic. “The Music”, meanwhile, its beat tolling, lost in its own fog of static, features a curious intonation, like the ghost of a lost Walker Brother.
Sadly, the album’s title is in reference to a personal tragedy on Van Hoen’s part - the loss of his wife. Titles such as “I Won’t Give Up”, which faintly reminds of another Eno masterpiece, Another Green World, in its nautical hurly-bury, or the pastoral strains of “Mrs Who”, heavily clouded with sadness, seem to allude to this. “In fact the record was recorded entirely before she passed away,” says Van Hoen, “most of it before she even became very ill. The title was given to the album when it started to look like she wasn’t going to make it beyond a few months. It was something Osho said - “plan for a miracle” - so it was a statement of hope. Unfortunately it was not to be.” Although the album is non-thematic, non-specific in its atmospheres, sound paintings, elegant structures it most certainly stands as a magnificent monument to Osho’s memory.
-David Stubbs.
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Love as Art, Love under the Patriarchy, Love as a political and radical act - in short 'The Fatal Flaw' examines Love from a deeper and philosophical perspective. Even the songs that aren't about Love, also are. They are about the absence of love, and what happens in those spaces, so they are songs about the necessity of love, and the consequences of its absences.
American experimental composer Stephen O’Malley releases Avaeken, two sides of immense, immersive, self-annihilating music via Dais Records.
The record preserves site-specific work: O’Malley installed Avaeken as part of Wish You Were Here, the exhibition by renowned American artist Banks Violette, underscoring the tension between presence and absence, life and loss.
O’Malley and Violette have developed a distinct language of sound, space, and sculpture over the past two decades, reverberating through the walls of world-class institutions from The Guggenheim and Centre Pompidou to prominent galleries such as Maureen Paley in London, Gladstone Gallery in NYC, and Antwerp’s TICK TACK, the brutalist space where Wish You Were Here unfolded in early 2026.
Emerging now as an LP, Avaeken presents power and phenomena: low-frequency vibrations, deep oscillations, and phase cancellations that translate as innately effective in any environment. Violette’s visual expression — the impossibility of locating yourself within the loss of a friend and the broader decay of culture — now fills the LP sleeve and feels inextricable from O’Malley’s sound, both still without resolution.
“Natural harmonic tone coloured by the valves of the amplification is the one desired characteristic,” reads the initial notes.
“At first I asked, why would I write for another guitar player?” he says. “I realized how amazing it is to be a listener on the other side of the music; together we were able to try all these precisions with intonation, harmonics, specific microtonal ideas.”
The quartet performed Avaeken several times before O’Malley joined them for a recording session at Muziekcentrum De Bijloke, a 13th-century former hospital with modern acoustics in Ghent.
MUCH LOVED LOW ALBUM BACK IN PRINT ON VINYL…NB NEW PRICE.NON -RETURNABLE.
The second Albini recorded and engineered Low album, Things We Lost in the Fire features such hits as Sunflower and Laser Beam.
#14 on Pitchfork 30 Best Dream Pop Albums.
#117 Pitchfork Top 200 Albums of the 2000s.
#93 The Guardian 100 Best Albums of the 21st Century list.
#36 NME Top 50 Darkest Ever Albums.
“Measuring out grief and resilience with a steady hand, these are the best songs of Low's quiet career.” Mojo 9/10
“Low's original stark minimalism has gradually given way to a broader sonic range, without sacrificing their strangely accessible otherness.” Wire
“Low have always sought to make music that can both swell the heart like a gospel tune and capture the amplified absence of a funeral parlour. It's difficult to imagine a more perfect expression of their vision than this.” NME
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'Devotional music and its devotees all do a bit of "buying in"; that while one's on the ground reality may appear anything but celestial, through this music, one can reach ecstatic space, ecstatic peace. However, devotional music is not solely concerned with a skyward glance - what does it look like to raise up the rust, look upon fractured branches, gaze at the density of a low fog across a field? Instead of us looking up at the land, what if the land was looking back at us? Old Saw brings together a brigade of New England silt sifters to raise up the land not as excavators, but as preparators. Tending and caring for the simple mess that our world discards. Throughout Country Tropics four pieces, the crew stretches and bends chords to their resting place before setting forth towards a new one. Fiddle drone, wistful tape loops of pedal steel, pipe organ hums, and clattering bells call us to scenes of observation, a water tower, a mechanical bull rental agency, a back porch, a taxidermy shop, a local church choir, a garden with singing vines, voltage hum of the electric fence on Pulp mill bridge road.
'The funny thing about devotion is the absence of sight, of source. We place trust in the guide or guides to bring us to a place of seeing, feeling, and hearing. The music on Country Tropics calls out to those in search of such places, but also doesn't demand we conjure some fantastical, celestial vision of understanding. Rather, Old Saw points our gaze downward towards the terrafirma unconsidered, and guides our hands into the dirt.'
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Performing on the Baroque cello (outfitted with gut strings and without an endpin, making it so that the performer has to clutch the instrument between the legs), Yo-Yo Ma delivers the warm, listener-friendly classical music that he has become known for. Supported by conductor Ton Koopman's period Amsterdam Baroque Orchestra, Ma presents a wholly unusual interpretation of some of Bach's better known Baroque works, as well as some lesser known pieces by Italian composer Luigi Boccherini.
The sound of the Baroque cello changes the mood of each familiar piece to something warmer and more intimate. The string composition has a less dry tone than the usual wound string, and the absence of the endpin means that there is no sound traveling through the floor, therefore all of the sound comes directly from the body of the instrument. Ma's skilled handling of the pieces evolve Simply Baroque beyond an interesting experiment and into a beautiful listening experience.
Simply Baroque is available as a limited edition of 500 copies on aquamarine vinyl and includes a 4-page booklet with liner notes.
The recordings were made in a single day in New York City with a team of extraordinary musicians. He'd already established a firm creative partnership with bass legend Cameron Brown and award-winning pianist Russ Lossing over the past year during their time as recording artists in NYC, and he renewed his fruitful association with outstanding drummer Billy Mintz (Lee Konitz, Charles Lloyd, Alan Broadbent) to complete the quartet. These three have been vital to Kazuki's compositions that tell the story of his enforced absence from the scene during the pandemic and how he sought to centre himself in the midst of the disruption through contemplation and the development of an inward strength. Each track complements the next, alternately celebrating the deep jazz tradition and pushing hard at its boundaries, allowing each member of the quartet to display their extraordinary musicianship while creating a harmonious whole.
Welcome back to a time when Bulletin Board Systems were the social media, it was too dark for influencers, hardware predated plugins, and a home studio was a cumbersome necessity in the absence of ghost producers.
The vinyl-only Kilotoni series returns with another faceless batch of radioactive techno from the previously unreleased tape archives.
A1 The classic acid techno anthem formula is utilized in its purest form for prime time main floor use. Steady build-ups keep the tension going in what is otherwise a simplistic live recording style performance.
A2 Compressed-to-death hard techno and a detuned lead that could have come straight out of late-90s Sweden. A rare cheeky vocal snippet from an old Trax record and submarine sonar pulses provide some relief from the pressure.
B1 Melancholic but funky acid house for warming up the dance floor in your local club basement. A bouncing bassline and flanging chords meet for the sweetest treat.
B2 Cruiserweight ghetto techno meets dubby, modulating chords — perhaps unexpectedly. The last sweat of the morning hours.
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Near the end of fifth grade, Eli Edwards’ mom gave him $20 and told him to go find a friend. His team had won its soccer game that day, so they were out celebrating at a local pizza parlor with games. But, more importantly, there had been one other Black kid that day on the pitch in Spanaway, WA, a Tacoma suburb and military-base town at the rainy northwest corner of the United States. That kid just happened to be Xayvien Young. An instant deep connection was formed between Edwards and Young—Eli and Xay, as they prefer to be called were inseparable— and now twelve years later they are the electrifying, boundary-skipping duo Casi.
Along the way, Eli had relocated to Los Angeles with the indie rock band Enumclaw he had helped found, but he found himself flying home maybe a little too much. He was ostensibly visiting his girlfriend, but he spent most of his time with Xay. They cut tracks in every bit of free time they found until they had an epiphany: Maybe this music they’d made together for a dozen years was actually something special. Casi’s 10-track, self-titled debut out on Carpark Records is the electrifying proof they needed.
On the record, they enthusiastically explore every musical interest they have ever had—explosive hip-hop and unbridled hardcore, high-gloss nü metal and a little bit of emo—as a pair. These songs don’t ignore genre lines; they delight in destroying them, in finding ways to slam hip-hop and hardcore, emo and nü metal together until it seems illogical that they were ever apart. Take “Jumper,” where heavy metal guitars and face-kicking drums stir the moshpit for rabid verses about crushing ICE and the lessons you learn riding the poverty line. And take closer “Bridges,” where the melodic imprint of Deftones meets the relentless confessions of Death Grips. Here are the hard, funny, and loud stories of two 23-year-olds, screaming about the world over a breathless composite of all the music they’ve ever loved.
When Eli was in Los Angeles, Xay missed his friend. But in his absence, he also felt the spark of inspiration. Music was something that had just been their childhood hobby, but now Eli was in a rock band that had press accolades and tours. He got serious about the craft. Eli would write about the dislocation and isolation he felt in California, while Xay would document the hardships of being a young Black man with a complicated family while working menial jobs in Spanaway.
This isn’t a coming-of-age album for Casi; it is, instead, a raw and riveting snapshot of that process, painful as it can be. “Eleven87” is a breakup song, a soul beat springing beneath arching emo vocals. And “Intrusive Thoughts” treats that topic like a punching bag, Eli and Xav fighting against the mental habits that keep them down. These 10 songs instantly close that gap.
Knocked Loose have announced their hotly anticipated new album, A Different Shade of Blue -- a mammoth of a sophomore release and massive step forward for the band and for hardcore and metal as we know it. Recorded by producer Will Putney, the new LP was approached slower and more methodically. Abandoning the previous 'live in studio' recording approach for something more deliberate, the band cranked out twelve new tracks that deal with all manner of anger, especially loss in lieu of absence. While some musical influences are easily identified - Pantera, Hatebreed, Obituary and more - the band's palette and canvas has expanded by leaps and bounds, incorporating Gothenburg-style death metal (At the Gates, early In Flames), slam metal (Devourment, Dying Fetus), blood-thirsty thrash (Sodom, Kreator), black metal (Craft) and the mind-boggling complexity of latter noisy hardcore like Snapcase and Bloodlet. Clocking in at a lean and mean 37 minutes and featuring guest vocals from Emma Boster of Dying Wish and Keith Buckley of Every Time I Die, A Different Shade of Blue grabs the listener by the throat from the jump and slowly tightening that grip for the duration.
Kwartz, Hurtado, TKNS, SlugoS y Sub Terra comparten este brutal Various Artists para el sello Caedite Eos.
Caedite Eos proudly presents a new various artist EP featuring Kwartz, Hurtado, TKNS, SUB TERRA, and SlugoS. With Kwartz and SUB TERRA making their debut on the label alongside the return of familiar names, this five-track release showcases a wide spectrum of the label’s sound.
Opening with an ambient piece by Kwartz, the EP moves through Hurtado’s broken beat approach, TKNS’ straight-to-the-floor 4/4 tool, and SlugoS’ signature controlled distortion, closing with SUB TERRA’s hard industrial techno cut infused with a classic techno flavor.
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"Remnants" is an album marked by the ambiguity of presence and absence. The pieces, recorded using minimal equipment in what Suzuki describes as a ritual-like atmosphere, began as a way of processing the loss of her father in 2019. But beyond this, they also come to speak to the ways in which loss changes our relationship with someone, and our experiences of the world. Indeed, the experience of loss is not marked merely by a single event, but is instead a process that unfolds over time. Despite the other's absence, a particular location, the smell of a certain brand of tobacco, a look on a friend's face - traces such as these are enough to bring about a renewed presence.
It is through these subtle traces and remnants, encountered over time, that we come to understand loss as not only the acceptance of absence, but the recognition of a continued presence. As Suzuki says, "this is not a solo album." Its creation was instead shaped by an ongoing dialogue, the continued elaboration of a complex and ambivalent relationship. At once melancholic, warm, and embracing, it is this ambiguity, these subtle traces, that Suzuki’s compositions speak to. These are not merely the sounds of mourning, but instead have been shaped by the evolving dialectic of presence and absence into something far more subtle and haunting. (Zefan Sramek, 2026)
Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.
For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.
The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.
Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”
The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.
Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.
Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.
The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.
‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”
The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”
New album of one of the biggest Reggae/Dub french soundsystem starring MacGyver, Rooty Step & Pupajim (who worked with Alpha Steppa, Biga Ranx, High Tone, Mungo's Hi-Fi ...).
Since their inception at start of the 2000s, Stand High Patrol have rocked sound systems to their own riddim, assimilating and re-purposing the codes of the genre in their own unique style. From tiny bars in Brittany to huge festival stages, on independent radio or across national airwaves, the crew have quietly trod their own path, never compromising their core value of independence. Connoisseurs have long recognised Stand High’s credentials both as a dub group and a leading sound system, but they stand out from the crowd because of their ability to deliver the unexpected, whether live or on record. Their ability to draw such a diverse audience is testament to this atypical approach to making music.
In 2020, almost 20 years since their humble beginnings, the collective presents their fifth album, “Our Own Way”. As with their first two albums “Midnight Walkers” and “Matter Of Scale”, now considered as classics in their genre, this new opus asserts itself as the latest representation of the crew’s versatile approach to crafting sound. Their music, a blend of its own known as “Dubadub”, has always borrowed influences from multiple sources, and over the course of their career their roots in dub and reggae have intertwined with hip-hop, jazz, new wave, trip-hop and numerous other genres. The ‘Dubadub Musketeers’ have never ceased experimenting, forever seeking to increase the sonic territory they cover, day after day. Both live and recorded, they’ve made it a point of honour to never offer up the same thing twice. Any resemblance that “Our Own Way” might bear to those first two albums is a consequence of this obvious creative continuity, rather than of going “back to basics”.
In contrast to the last two Stand High Patrol records, the hip-hop inspired “The Shift”, or the Bristol indebted “Summer On Mars”, “Our Own Way” doesn’t have a unifying concept or theme. Rather than being limited to a single aesthetic, the LP pays respect to the entire canon of Jamaican music, all unified under Stand High’s inimitable production values. With the wealth of experience gained during the recording of their last two records, the collective decided to aim for a freer project, letting themselves be guided by their own music and their own instincts. The end result is a musical portrait of what Stand High Patrol is in the present moment.
The tracks that make up the new LP burst out of the studio, each born out of unbridled, impulsive creativity. Previously unheard compositions and specially re-tooled dub plates have been assembled into a tracklist that shifts and moves like a classic Dubadub Musketeer live set. Each step of the process has been refined by years of practice : composition, effects, and the final mix. Throughout “On Our Way”, the brutal dub stepper, though still a favourite for sound system sessions, is noticeable by its absence. Instead, it’s the full weight of the crew’s reggae heritage that’s expressed in the mix. It's not just the depth and weight of each tune that strikes the listener, but also the spaces heard between the notes that grab and hold their attention.. The sense of a trip, whether musical, internal or geographic, is omnipresent throughout the LP, linking each track to those before and after. “Our Own Way” finds Stand High Patrol exploring as usual, yet also narrating their journey as they’ve rarely done before.
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Josh Mason’s new collection, "Wave Salt +7," emerges from an oblique origin. Unearthed from a dormant hard drive, it documents a set of work sessions only partially recoverable, their original continuity and intent fractured by time and technical failure. What remains is a constellation of mercurial gestures that proves, against all odds, to be entirely consonant with Mason’s ongoing musical concerns.
In a sense, the very condition of partiality proves generative, with elision operating on multiple levels - structural, sonic, and archival - shaping both the music itself and the circumstances of its (re)appearance. Phrases surface only to be truncated or displaced, hovering at the edge of resolution, and transitions are implied rather than fully enacted. Absence functions not as a deficit, but as an important compositional resource.
Central to the album’s sound is a distinctive use of vocoding. Deployed not to simulate vocal presence but as a tool for tonal sculpting, it yields a shifting lattice of smeared harmonics, angular melody, and attenuated noise. Sounds are pressed through one another, their edges softened, shifted, or selectively erased, producing surfaces simultaneously articulated and porous. Rather than reconstructing a lost whole, the album posits a mode of listening attuned to gaps, interruptions, and unstable forms. Even so, in keeping with Mason’s broader practice, this music remains grounded in melodic logic and a distinctly human scale, ensuring that its fragmentary structures register not solely as experiments, but as expressions of proximity and feeling.
Following their 2024 debut „La Grande Accumulation“ Anadol (Gözen Atila) and Marie Klock return with „Manivelles“.
Hailed by The Quietus as a duo that pushes each other to "greater heights of oddness" the pair produces an undefinable mix of folk, kraut, and pop nested inside expansive organ-based arrangements. The album‘s nine tracks emerged from intensive improvisations in Paris and Istanbul, brought to life with an odd mix of tools: from Prophet-5 and Jupiter-6 synths to mechanical Pianet clatter and even a salad spinner repurposed as a drone.
Klock‘s French lyrics navigate the miniature and the cosmic, exploring the small tragedies of everyday life - botched holiday gatherings, lingering heartbreak or the absence of a loved one.
Born from a moment of catharsis during an Istanbul earthquake that ended a period of writer‘s block, the record draws its material from lived experience and a lasting friendship.
Its title „Manivelles“ - meaning "cranks" - hints at the musical partners creative penchant for generating songs through friction and playful contradictions. From the shouted pastiche of "Symposium" to the sparse synth pulses of "Une Grande Tragédie Polonaise", it‘s an album with a wonderfully wonky heart that sounds like faint signals from a beautifully failing transmitter.
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REPRESS ON SILVER VINYL . COMES WITH 24”x24” POSTER + DOWNLOAD CARD + GATEFOLD JACKET.
On The Beths’ album Expert In A Dying Field, Elizabeth Stokes’ songwriting positions her somewhere between being a novelist and a documentarian. The songs collected here are autobiographical, but they’re also character sketches of relationships – platonic, familial, romantic – and more importantly, their aftermaths. The shapes and ghosts left in absences. The question that hangs in the air: what do you do with how intimately versed you’ve become in a person, once they’re gone from your life?
The third LP from the New Zealand quartet houses 12 jewels of tight, guitar-heavy songs that worm their way into your head, an incandescent collision of power-pop and skuzz. With Expert, The Beths wanted to make an album meant to be experienced live, for both the listeners and themselves. They wanted it to be fun -- to hear, to play -- in spite of the prickling anxiety throughout the lyrics, the fear of change and struggle to cope.
Most of Expert was recorded at guitarist Jonathan Pearce’s studio on Karangahape Road in Tāmaki Makaurau, Aotearoa (Auckland, New Zealand) -- and sometimes in the building's cavernous stairwell at 1am -- toward the end of 2021, until they were interrupted by a four-month national lockdown. They traded notes remotely for months, songwriting from afar and fleshing out the arrangements alone, the first time they’d written together in such a way. The following February, The Beths left the country for the first time in more than two years to tour across the US, and simultaneously finish mixing the album on the road. That latter half felt more collaborative, with everyone on-hand to trade notes in real time, until it all culminated in a chaotic three-day studio mad-dash in Los Angeles. There, Expert finally became the record they were hearing in their heads.
Expert is an extension of the same skuzzy palette the band has built across their catalog, pop hooks embedded in incisive indie rock. The album’s title track “Expert In A Dying Field” introduces the thesis for the record: “How does it feel to be an expert in a dying field? How do you know it’s over when you can’t let go?” Stokes asks. “Love is learned over time ‘til you’re an expert in a dying field.”
The rest is a capsule of The Beths’ most electrifying and exciting output, a sonic spectrum: “Your Side” is a forlorn and sincere love song, emotive; while “Silence is Golden,” with its propulsive drum line and stop-start staccato of a guitar line winding up and down, is one of the band’s sharpest and most driving. “When You Know You Know” skews a bit groovier, pure pop and a natural addition to the band’s live set. “Knees Deep” was written last minute, but yields one of the best guitar lines on Expert. There’s a certain chaos across the 12 tracks, the palpable joy of playing music with long-time friends colliding with the raw nerves of pain.
Stokes strings it all together through her singular songwriting lens, earnest and self-effacing, zeroing in on the granules of doubt and how they snowball. Did I do the wrong thing? Or did you? And are we still good people at the end of it? She isn’t interested in villains, but instead interested in just telling the story. That insecurity and thoughtfulness, translated into universality and understanding, has been the guiding light of The Beths’ output since 2016. In the face of pain, there’s no dwelling on internal anguish - instead, through The Beths’ music, our shortcomings are met with acceptance. And Expert In A Dying Field is the most tactile that tenderness has been.
Sem is the first album by Victor Negri under his own name, after a decade making music as Arubu Avua. Released via Stray Signals (Berlin) in partnership with Mutum (Portugal/Brazil), the album was composed between late 2023 and early 2025 during a prolonged period of compounded grief and relocation, and is built upon layers of guitar in irregular loops, alongside samples, experimental electronics, and field recordings.
Begun in Lisbon and finished in Campinas, Brazil, Sem (meaning “without”) deals with loss by juxtaposing new material with unfinished recordings from previous years. As the process unfolded, catharsis emerged as much through editing as through raw expression. The album became a symbolic attempt to glue together fragments and memories from a world that ceased to exist, in order to move forward.
Across its eight tracks, some pieces gradually unfold while others crumble or explode into distortion and feedback, while some seem almost suspended, as if unsure of the next steps. There is a loose trajectory from disorientation and collapse (“Voçoroca”) through astonished frustration (“Não”) and numb acceptance (“Obrigado”), toward a fragile optimism on the closing tracks “Os cacos” and “Boa continuação.” Negri’s first fully instrumental album, Sem contains no vocals at all. That absence emerged gradually after fruitless attempts at songwriting during the period; overwhelm and speechlessness ultimately prevailed. The result leaves room for ambiguity, wandering, and the unfamiliar.
Victor Negri is a Brazilian musician and songwriter. Previously known as Arubu Avua, he makes music framed by noise, feedback, irregular loops, and field recordings.
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