quête:across the water

Advanced Myth is the lucid debut album from Dialect, the long standing project of British composer, multi-instrumentalist, and field recordist Andrew PM Hunt. An enchanted exploration of unusual source synthesis, electro-acoustic arrangements, and sound found in foreign environments, Advanced Myth is its own cosmos expanding and contracting in real time. Although a largely meditative listen, it oscillates between moments of shimmering lucidity and corrosive washes of noise. Originally released digitally by tasty morsels in 2015, Advanced Myth has been newly mastered by Stephan Mathieu from definitive mixes, and is available for the first time on vinyl. Since his debut, Hunt has built a broad oeuvre with a quiet confidence across several albums, including Gowanus Drifts (2015), Loose Blooms (2017), and Under ~ Between (2021), his debut for RVNG Intl., and its companion piece, Keep Goingü... Under. For Fans of Laurie Spiegel, Visible Cloaks, Oneohtrix Point Never, Catarina Barbieri, Clare Rousay.

Marisa Anderson is one of the most eminent guitarists working today. Her lucid, eloquent approach to guitar music and composition has established her as an unparalleled artist and an insightful, coveted collaborator. Anderson"s work draws on a mosaic of folk musics and lives in conversation with myriad musical traditions. Her music is inviting and candid, beckoning the listener into sprawling ecosystems and intimate corners alike, from barren landscapes to verdant thickets, impassioned communal experiences to pensive reclusions. As a master of her instrument, Anderson translates abstractions into undeniably moving music, tracing through traditional folk tunes, imagined Sci-Fi films, and foggy sanctuaries of sound. Still, Here is Anderson at her most direct, laying bare her practice of processing and understanding the world through music and distilling that practice into pieces as expressive as they are transfixing. The pieces of Still, Here center around Anderson"s present. The album is a compendium of living moments captured by her preternatural ability to mold human realities into enduring, lyrical compositions. Away from the road for the longest stretch of her career, the making of Still, Here affirmed for Anderson the role of the guitar as an essential tool in processing external and internal realities. "I don"t get ideas and then turn to the guitar, rather I turn to the guitar to find out what my ideas are. I turn towards it for meaning." The discordance of protest and upheaval emanates from a propulsive acoustic ostinato and mournful dueling pedal steel guitars on "The Fire This Time," pausing only to allow space for the blare of sirens on the Portland street near Anderson"s studio. "The Crack Where the Light Gets In" rapturously revels in the glimmers of hope that peek through a pall of darkness. Across Still, Here, Anderson"s playing transmutes the tributaries of fluctuating emotions into a unified flow, stirring and sublime.

Marisa Anderson is one of the most eminent guitarists working today. Her lucid, eloquent approach to guitar music and composition has established her as an unparalleled artist and an insightful, coveted collaborator. Anderson"s work draws on a mosaic of folk musics and lives in conversation with myriad musical traditions. Her music is inviting and candid, beckoning the listener into sprawling ecosystems and intimate corners alike, from barren landscapes to verdant thickets, impassioned communal experiences to pensive reclusions. As a master of her instrument, Anderson translates abstractions into undeniably moving music, tracing through traditional folk tunes, imagined Sci-Fi films, and foggy sanctuaries of sound. Still, Here is Anderson at her most direct, laying bare her practice of processing and understanding the world through music and distilling that practice into pieces as expressive as they are transfixing. The pieces of Still, Here center around Anderson"s present. The album is a compendium of living moments captured by her preternatural ability to mold human realities into enduring, lyrical compositions. Away from the road for the longest stretch of her career, the making of Still, Here affirmed for Anderson the role of the guitar as an essential tool in processing external and internal realities. "I don"t get ideas and then turn to the guitar, rather I turn to the guitar to find out what my ideas are. I turn towards it for meaning." The discordance of protest and upheaval emanates from a propulsive acoustic ostinato and mournful dueling pedal steel guitars on "The Fire This Time," pausing only to allow space for the blare of sirens on the Portland street near Anderson"s studio. "The Crack Where the Light Gets In" rapturously revels in the glimmers of hope that peek through a pall of darkness. Across Still, Here, Anderson"s playing transmutes the tributaries of fluctuating emotions into a unified flow, stirring and sublime.

LIMITED 180GM BLACK VINYL INCLUDES DOWNLOAD CARD WITH 8 BONUS TRACKS. GATEFOLD + BOOKLET INCLUDED.

During this feverish time, founding member Guy Smith was motivated to make music that reveled in always trying out different things. Normil Hawaiians was a very fluid ensemble at this point, Guy often accompanied by Kev Armstrong and Jim Lusted encouraged saxophones, violins, synths, pianos and a select pack of female backing singers to take their post-punk sound into wilder directions. One of the earliest line-ups of Normil Hawaiians featured a 15-year old Janet Armstrong on vocals alongside Guy, ‘Ventilation’ best showcases her deadpan digressions. Janet went on to sing alongside David Bowie a few years later on his breathtaking mid-80’s gem ‘Absolute Beginners’. By this point Kev Armstrong was also guesting for Bowie on guitar duties too.

Another guest to join the ranks of Normil Hawaiians during this fertile time of cross-pollination was Bertie Marshall (aka Berlin of the proto-punk Bromley Contingent). ‘Sang Sang’ is a good example of how he was inspired to deliver his poetic treatises over the band’s atmospheric, floating improvisations. Bertie’s impressionistic influence helped the group uncouple further from rock tropes, as they became restless and more rhythmically-focused. ‘Still Obedient’ fidgets, soars and careens across the dancefloor, “if you’re ahead close your eyes, you won’t notice the subtitles” chants Guy.

By the end of this transformative two years Normil Hawaiians had spun an exceptional chrysalis around themselves. The dark world surrounding wouldn’t win out, they’d eaten-up the music and grown continuously, wrote and recorded rapidly, covered Zappa & even David Lynch and could feel the light beginning to shine through. ‘Dark World’ is a snapshot of a band in flux, finding their feet, stretching their limbs. Normil Hawaiians cover an awful amount of ground in such a short time-frame on this record and these tracks document all the glittering debris from their magpie’s nest. Emergent, hopeful and resistant in sound and ethic.

A generous DJ/party-friendly 6-pack from Biesmans’ brilliant, intense contribution to Watergate’s revered mix LP series, selecting from the 17-track LP collaborations with Adana Twins, Shubostar, Dusky, Kasper Bjørke & Jacob Bellens and Zombies in Miami, plus a solo from the Belgian Indie dance maestro.

Vessels promise an escape from responsibilities towards the landscape, they facilitate our avoidance of conscientiously feeling our attachment to the mainland. The visual nothingness of deep water and clean horizons fools the brain and delivers a treacherous feeling of independence.

We ignore the truths expressed by landscapes, so we mould them into urban projects for our strange desires. We clean up the irrationalities by which nature constructs itself. Then we look up to the skies, where the abstractions we have to draw in our minds should reside and inspire us.

We peer into the various shades of blue above the waters, the emptiness guarantees possibilities of our abstractions becoming realities. The apathetic stare into neat, straight horizons transforms our ancestral landscape into dirt and danger, when looking back to it.

To be on a ship under quarantine, is an upside down experience, for the promised escape has turned into a forced paralysis. The Lima flag (? - ? ?, in morse code), presented on the outer sleeve of this record, indirectly demands of all passengers to stay aboard and contemplate their escape from the land they now desire to return to.

These four piano pieces could be considered as a classical sonata (allegroadagio-scherzo-rondo). In a recital they are accompanied by four video pieces by artist Karl Van Welden. We picked the videos out of his extensive archive, choosing images intuitively while listening to the piano music. The theme of ships relating to quarantine thus came unannounced but of course, we were in the middle of the pandemic at the time.

Solastalgia was already waiting as a title for the new album before march 2020. I first came across the word in Underland, a book by Robert Macfarlane (2019). He defines the word as "The unhappiness of people whose landscapes are being transformed about them by forces beyond their control". These forces and this unhappiness are, I believe, what constitutes the modern human. Solastalgia, about the music We haven't found them yet, the words to talk to each other about the worrying signs of climate change. Feeling worried when walking on autumn leaves in the beginning of August should be completely normal. But how do we communicate about it? We don't want to be just the next hysterical doomer.

With this music I try to focus on the climate pain itself, gently inviting the listener to investigate their latent feelings of unease and growing concerns about the environment. As in real life, we circumvent the real issues because they are just too big, there are no words, no expressions yet.

This album tries, in four different attempts, to carve out a path towards communicating about a deeper pain that eventually will connect us all. My general method is to start with a comforting melody, full of fake nostalgia, which, after changing gear to autodestruct mode, morphs into a painful question mark.

The first part sets off with an idyllic melody, accompanied by repeated notes, as a far, muted echo of an alarm. The melody starts to explain itself painfully into a dissonant whirlwind in the high register, sounding not unlike Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit bravura. In the second piece a warm Beatles like melody (And I love her) gets confronted with the weird hippie mantra of a later Lennon song War is over, if you want it. Sentences get reduced to syllables and result in lonely notes that crash and shiver under the burden of too much meaning. Like Shostakovich's latest work, the Sonata for viola and piano.

The descending melody of Bach's Erbarme dich, Mein Gott is echoed in the upper and lower voicings of the third piece, juxtaposed to a typical, threatening Ennio Morricone Western dotted rhythm accompaniment. This rhythm eventually evolves into citing the 1972 Captain Beefheart early ecological warning song Blabber and Smoke (there's a big pane/pain in your window, it's gonna hang you all,... dangle you all). Towards the middle of the piece, the music explodes and the three layers get dispersed all over the keyboard in a virtuosic maelstrom towards another painful question mark. The bitter answer is going back to business with a barely noticeable citation of the first notes of the RZA's Liquid Swords album.

The final piece is some kind of mantra, the same 7/4 pulse all throughout the piece. The dampers of all A's and B's on the keyboard are released by the middle pedal, thus sustaining an ever present resonance. Melodic cells alternate in shifting quantifications with small, bell like percussive cluster playing. While composing this piece an image crept up: walking out of the church on Sunday morning, tolling bells enthusiastically moderating the churchgoers' small talk in the local dialect. Apparently I have tried to evoke this kind of conversation, but injecting it with fictitious alarming conversation topics, the contemporary.

Frederik Croene (August '22)

The ground- breaking, unique jazz/R&B/pop group Brian Auger & The Trinity were formed from the ashes of Long John Baldry’s and Brian Auger’s previous group bandThe Steampacket, an R&B Revue collective, which also featured a then barely known Rod Stewart and Julie Driscoll.

Adding the UKs then greatest soul/pop singer Julie Driscoll to this new collective meant that not only did the band have a unique, beautiful voice and face to front the group – Driscoll also embodied everything about the 1960s fashionable It Girl; her sound, her clothes, hair styles and make up assured that nearly as many column inches were dedicated to her stylish demeanour as much as the band’s genre bending music.

The group were the one of the first too to intentionally set out to break down musical barriers – Brian himself specifically stated in the sleeve notes for 1968s ‘Definitely What!’ album that his concept “lies along a straight line drawn between pop and jazz and aims at the ‘fusion’ of both elements”. ‘Fusion’ at that time was not even a recognised musical term, reinforcing Auger’s credentials as an originator and innovator.

“Back then the jazz audiences were purists. They really looked down on rock and pop,” he explains. “I had people cross the road when they saw me coming, I was persona non grata at Ronnie Scotts because of themusic we were doing and the clothes we were wearing”.

Happily – audiences of the time didn’t take the same dismissive approach, Julie Driscoll, Brian Auger & The Trinity toured the US and had exploded onto American TV screens as guests of The Monkees, and also scored hits across Europe's pop charts via the singles ‘This Wheels On Fire’ & ‘Save Me’ – but simultaneously appeared on the UK’s ‘Top Of The Pops’ in the same month as headlining major European Jazz Festivals – a feat no other act has equalled since.

Between 1967 and ’70, Brian Auger experienced a four year run of unprecedented creativity – 1967’s Open with Julie Driscoll, 1968’s Definitely What!, 1969’s Streetnoise again with Driscoll and 1970’s Befour – taking the Hammond Organ in new directions with their thrilling fusion of club R&B, jazz and psychedelic cool, engaging both the underground and the mainstream, and bringing the group chart success in the UK and Europe. “I look back on my years with The Trinity as aperiod of discovery,” Auger concludes. “I didn’t know what would happen or where it would take me but we were breaking down barriers and going someplace new.”


King Britt “The Multi-Genre Maestro, Brian Auger is every producer and DJ’s secret weapon. A hero who deserves his flower now”

DJ Format “I have more Brian Auger records in my collection than any other British artist, which says more about my love of his music than words ever could"


FOR FANS OF:
Jimmy Smith, Aretha Franklin, The Spencer Davis
Group, Nina Simone, Georgie Fame, Traffic. Sly &
The Family Stone, Jimmy McGriff.

Anita Clark’s new Motte album, »Cold + Liquid«, builds glacial atmospheres, frozen moods and isolated impressions. Portraying New Zealand through socio-geological sound, breathing in Christchurch cultures and locales, the album embodies an artistic simulation of the Kiwi environment. Motte borrows from an array of sound sources to create an immense entity, with each piece situated precisely along the path. »Cold + Liquid« offers this rich sensory experience, transporting the listener into a world of Clark’s imagination.

As a master violinist, Clark is a favorite of the NZ music scene. She’s been employed by Nadia Reid, Marlon Williams, Lawrence Arabia and Maryrose Crook of The Renderers for her skills. Currently, she plays with The Phoenix Foundation, Luke Buda and Don McGlashan and The Others. Her skillful reach across genres fuels her popularity both with the rock under and overground, and she has also built a rich CV of film soundtracks and contemporary dance compositions.

With such a powerful musical force behind it, Cold + Liquid germinated as a result of a prolonged silence. Clark was suffering from vocal cord paralysis, leaving her with a culminating sense of frustration which could only be released through songwriting . The album’s early life was purely instrumental. But as she prepared for the studio and was searching old voice memos hoping to find vocal tracks, her voice returned. A fervent week followed, where she reimagined the entire album, now with singing. She aimed to make something colossal, and set about finding the right textures to add. A friend who works at Oamaru Freezing Works gave her field recordings of the temperature control room, a vast cold space of isolated machinery, where ice grows and dissolves in ever-evolving sculptures. Getting her hands on shortwave/longwave radios, she incorporated frequency sweeps. Another friend provided her with the mechanical drones underneath the deck of a cement cargo ship, as it lay docked in Lyttelton Harbor. Still more sources came from Sign of the Bellbird, an historic environmental site in South Christchurch, where Clark and Thomas Lambert recorded bellbirds, rolling boulders, snapping sticks, thrown dirt and the papery sound of the native harakeke plant.

While violin dominates the first Motte album, Clark sought to expand instrumentation. She was gifted a handmade Pūrerehua puoro, a traditional Māori instrument that sounds similar to the whirling and hovering of a moth (which is “motte” in German). A reacquaintance to the guitar occurred after developing an alter ego project entitled 'Sex Den,' with sleazy noir-esque guitar riffs in response to a failed rumour from a local drug-addled dive bar. Guitar and synth allowed for a broader songwriting palette along with a sometimes Dadaist approach to lyric writing. These new tools accent the extreme ambiences of »Cold + Liquid«, while additional work was provided by Ben Woods on synth and bowed guitar.

Following the »Minna Miteru« compilation, released in 2020, Morr Music announces a sequel, dedicated to Japanese indie music, overflowing with surprises and welcome discoveries. Like its predecessor, »Minna Miteru 2« is compiled by Saya of Tenniscoats, with the support of Markus Acher (The Notwist). It’s also another part of the Minna Miteru universe, alongside retrospective albums by The Andersens (»There Is A Sound«, 2020) and yumbo (»The Fruit Of Errata«, 2021). Taken together, these albums suggest a scene in rude health, sharing a unique vibration.

If its predecessor circled around Tenniscoats and their close friends, the second volume, though featuring a collaboration between Tenniscoats and Deerhoof as oneone, reaches far further afield, drawing from music old and new, far and wide. Consistent across »Minna Miteru 2« is a sense of wonder and a cheerful unpredictability: you never quite know what you’ll hear next. There are some gorgeous indie pop songs here, like Yuko Kono’s »Ginger« or HOSE’s »Baseball«, but there are other sounds too, like Kariu Kenji’s blue-hued electro-pop, or the wheezing pipe-organ ambient of FUJI||||||||||TA: »Minna Miteru 2« hints at new kinds of beauty.

Some of the more widely known names here contribute typically gorgeous melodies – Kama Aina’s »Wedding Song«, from 2005’s »Hawaii Hawaii« CD, is a reflective tune that combines a country-ish lilt with hints of slack-key guitar. Shugo Tokumaru’s »5 A.M.« is a delirious psychedelic pop mantra, drawn from his excellent 2005 album, »L.S.T.«. Many of the revelations, though, come from artists and groups relatively unknown outside Japan. The lovely, disorienting glitch-folk of Wasurerogusa features Aki Tsuyuko, perhaps best known for her albums on Thrill Jockey and Jim O’Rourke’s Moikai label, collaborating with psych-folk legends Eddie Marcon.

There’s also the delightful synth-pop of Jonathan Conditioner; the electronic dreamscape of Chaplin, whose opening »Out Cont« runs along several parallel paths at once; the twinkling, acoustic jangle at the heart of mmm’s luscious »Blue«; and a curious collection of miniatures, from acts like tenshinkun, Daisuke Tanabe and NNMIE, that embrace a childlike curiosity, essaying a kind of toytown pop-tronica.

The twenty-six songs on »Minna Miteru 2« repeatedly catch you unawares, upending your expectations and signaling both the breadth and depth of the Japanese indie underground. It’s a compilation of play and pleasure, but also of bold experiment smuggled into the everyday through pop music’s welcoming moods, magically creating a new world for the listener, spun out of the air and woven in between your ears.

Spanish artist Helena Piti continues to establish her artful Argia alias with a mini-album on Atomnation. Across six superb tracks, the formally trained artist brings serenity, musicality and gorgeous melody to her stylishly designed sounds.

Piti has been immersed in music all her life. From a young age, she studied piano and double bass at the conservatory before evolving into the electronic world and quickly making her mark. She has released with the likes of Stil Vor Talent, Sincopat and DUAT while holding down her esteemed residency at Madrid's well-known Mondo Disko and touring places like Watergate and about:blank. This self-taught producer uses music as a way of expressing a wide range of inner feelings and she has plenty lined up for 2022 including this adventurous new release.

Continuing the ‘first time on vinyl’ purge of the AMT archives. Here’s the band's classic 2006 album finally available on double vinyl for the first time. Housed in full colour gatefold sleeve.
‘Myth of the Love Electrique’ is another scorcher from these ridiculously prolific psych masters. This album is notable for being the debut of their newest band member: Kitagawa Hao. Kitagawa's presence doesn't dominate the recording by any means, but her contributions nicely complement the swirling chaos the group generates. Acid Mothers Temple always manages to find a breath of fresh air at the most opportune times, and this is no exception. While remaining a tight unit, bringing Kitagawa into the fold adds another dimension to their chaotic sprawl without having to sacrifice any of their strengths on this incendiary album.
“Comprised of four lengthy tracks, the album explodes with a start: "The Man from Giacobinid Meteor Comet." Kawabata Makoto's guitar quickly becomes a tangle of screams, a frenzied surge that drags the band along with it. The rhythm section is ferocious. Bassist Tsuyama Atsushi frequently ventures out to the stratosphere, but he also knows when to hold back or to provide a vaguely melodic foundation. Likewise, the amount of energy drummer Shimura Koji dedicates to his performance is a lesson in endurance. Divided into three movements, this track eventually cools down and then glides to a drone landing, alighting the listener breathlessly upon calmer ground.
Kitagawa's voice makes its first appearance on "Five Dimensional Nightmare," floating over a bouzouki arrangement that sounds like singing glass. This one is divided into three sections like the previous track, but starts airy and then goes into a drone as Tsuyama briefly takes over the vocals. From here, strings are tortured like fingernails on a blackboard before a guitar and Higashi Hiroshi’s water drop electronics restore balance.
As much as I loved the two previous tracks, the band forges ahead into something different on "Love Electrique." Kitagawa's presence is most felt on this track. Her voice streaks across the mix as blistering guitars and freaky electronics blast all over the place. Over the course of 20 minutes, it hits several different moods and textures on a truly transcendent journey.

Of the four tracks, only the live staple "Pink Lady Lemonade (May I Drink You Once Again?)" may seem a little redundant. Kitagawa, however, breathes new life into this standard by bringing her vocals to the fore over the entire track, as if restoring an element that previously had been missing. It's hard to call it a definitive version because so many other excellent versions already exist, but it is a great one in its own right. For fans who may be weary of this song after all of its appearances over the years, it is easy enough to stop the disc after gorging on the first hour of music, and it is still a welcome dessert if the mood should strike”

Two years ago, Fräulein were newcomers to the Bristol alternative scene, initially making their mark by performing at a weekly open mic night at the local pub. When the pandemic forced us all to slow down, Joni Samuels and Karsten van der Tol used this as an opportunity to hone their craft and develop their unique, raucous sound. Moving to London in 2021, the duo began again, quickly joining forces with tastemaking label Practice Music (Squid, Deep Tan). In 2021, the duo threw down the gauntlet by releasing their first three singles: ‘Pretty People’, ‘Belly’ and ‘By The Water’. With these tracks Fräulein solidified their signature sound; cathartic 90’s flavoured alt rock influenced by the likes of The Breeders, PJ Harvey and Big Thief that also incorporates cavernous grooves, intricate melodies and sharply observational lyrics punctuated by a unique brand of direct yet surrealist imagery. These initial efforts won widespread support from the likes of Spotify (Hot New Bands, Fresh Finds), CLASH, DIY Magazine, KEXP and BBC Radio 1 (Daniel P. Carter). The band built on this new momentum by starting to establish themselves as a ferocious live act. Highlights of a busy concert year included playing at their first post-covid festival Sound City, a sold out debut headline show at iconic Brixton venue The Windmill, plus performances alongside the likes of Goat Girl, Talk Show and Dream Nails. 2022 seems set to be another exciting year, with the band both returning to the studio and heading out on a further string of shows - including a tour in March supporting The Mysterines across the UK and Ireland. For a newly minted band their output has quickly taken on a confident flare, with a sonic bombardment that defies the usual boundaries of the two piece trope both on record and in concert.

"Full recording of one of the most engaging and beguiling Late Junction live sessions we’ve ever heard - the one off first meeting between Korean multi-instrumentalist Park Jiha and writer and performer Roy Claire Potter.
It’s an unlikely pairing which works from the first breath. Park Jiha plays the saenghwang, a Korean mouth organ which she blows in long multiphonics to set pace for Potter’s words. They unfurl a scene slowly in front of you, rich and focused, shifting your field of vision and drawing you in, elsewhere. It’s impossible not to follow, not to look for where they point. When the piri sounds for a flooded town on the B side, the water flows between your own feet; Potter’s words a sometimes frightening hörspiel in scouse.

Though the details are fine, the space each artist gives one another and their instruments, their language, is given to the listener in turn. A careful melody picks out a route for words with no fixed meaning, a body with no fixed direction, and we are invited to listen and see a kind of music made visible in its inference. A truly very special record we are very proud to share.
—
Influenced by linguistics and performance theory, Roy Claire Potter makes performance, text, drawing, installation and film, and oen collaborates with musicians and sound artists to make audio for music festivals and radio. Across the wide range of their practice, Roy tells stories built from fragmented, intense images that depict moving bodies or domestic scenes and architectural settings. Roy’s interest in subtext and narrative sequencing is felt in the way they use fast-paced talking or reading speeds, and restricted or partial views of space. Complicated social or group dynamics, and the aftermath of violent events are common themes in Roy’s work and are usually treated with a dark, sometimes wilful humour.

Park Jiha creates exploratory music rooted in traditional Korean instrumental performance. To this session she brings three instruments: a Korean hammered dulcimer called a yanggeum, a saenghwang which is an instrument made of 24 slender bamboo pipes attached to a bowl and played like a harmonica and a double-reed bamboo flute called a piri, which sounds similar to an oboe.
—
Recorded and mixed on: 30 January 2020 by Rob Winter, Pete Smith and Andy Rushton at Maida Vale Studios, London for “Late Junction - Roy Claire Potter and Park Jiha in session”. Produced by Rebecca Gaskell, Katie Callin and Alannah Chance at Reduced Listening for BBC Radio 3."

Jacob Long’s third Earthen Sea outing for Kranky, Ghost Poems, further refines his fragile, fractured palette into fluttering arrhythmias of dust, percussion, and yearning.
Composed during the first wave of lockdowns in New York, the pieces took shape patiently from samples of piano, texture, and domestic sounds (sink splashing, room tone, clinking objects), filtered through live FX to imbue them with an intuitive, immaterial feel. Wisps of melody splinter, shimmer, and refract, like light on water; pulses accrue and dissipate, as if mapping shifting sands. Throughout, there’s a sense of matter made animate, of absences felt.
Long cites notions of “the studio as a dub instrument” and the melancholy of “7th chords on a fake Rhodes patch” as central elements in his process, transforming raw materials into rare thresholds of symbiosis and hypnosis. This is music for night skies in hollowed out cities, for views across rivers towards unknown shores: restless, placeless, and profound.
track listing:1. Shiny Nowhere 2. Stolen Time 3. Felt Absence 4. Oblique Ruins 5. Snowy Water 6. Rough Air 7. Slate Horizon 8. Ochre Sky 9. Fossil Painting 10. Deep Sky
press quotes for previous album Grass and Trees:
“Jacob Long’s vaporous, lo-fi ambient tracks feel like snapshots of stillness made of moving parts.” Pitchfork
“As light as a warm breeze on skin, Earthen Sea’s latest album for Kranky showcases Jacob Long’s natural sensitivity for low-key, enchanting electronic sound craft.” Boomkat
“It’s exciting to hear such a significant change in his sound without sacrificing a personal touch and sonic character.” Igloo

New album from South London producer, multi-instrumentalist and vocalist Wu-Lu.

Leader of the punk-rap awakening, Wu-Lu pulls inspiration from personal hardship and the underrepresented on his latest for Warp entitled 'LOGGERHEAD'. Miles Romans-Hopcraft based his artistic moniker on the Amharic word for water, “wu-ha”. True to his fluid sound and nature, he decided to change it to something that felt more liquid. He ended up with Wu-Lu, a name he has been using since 2015. His first record GINGA opened the floodgates to a career that would take him to various places, people, and genres. From breaking bones at skateparks as a teenager, to DJing as one of the original members of Touching Bass, and eventually getting signed to Warp in 2021.

As an artist, Wu-Lu seems concerned with feeling and communicating the full spectrum of human emotion. Throughout his varied discography, he touches on disparate themes and sounds, straddling a divide between blissed-out beats and grungy guitar dirges, and often mixing both into one amorphous, unclassifiable sound of his own.

On ‘'LOGGERHEAD'’, Wu-Lu hones his unique sound. On ‘Take Stage’, a despondent spoken word intro opens with sombre strings and underlying bows dragged delicately across them. Then the lights flicker to life on ‘Night Pill’, and the mosh pit with them - the bassline approaches like a hungry shark and the guitars snarl with a homemade 90s grunge energy. This grunge drawl and punk spirit is peppered with dry old-school drum sounds of classic hip-hop, with laid-back beat-oriented tracks are spread amongst those with intermittent growls, scratches, and shrieks. Sonic elements are constantly rearranged and juxtaposed throughout the album, like on ‘South’ where the fluctuating pitch of squealing guitars and screaming vocals is contrasted with the steady flow of Lex Amor.

Listening through the album you are constantly greeted with about-turns, and through the element of surprise and deft use of contrast 'LOGGERHEAD' sits at an exciting point in Wu-Lu’s genre-defying artistry.

Following on from acclaimed recent releases on Hallow Ground and Boomkat’s Documenting Sound series, NOISEEM is a major new work from Japanese sound artist/instrument inventor Yosuke Fujita, who performs under the name FUJIIIIIIIIIIIITA. Where Fujita’s recent recorded output has focussed primarily on documentation of his remarkable self-built pipe organ, NOISEEM is the culmination of half a decade of work with highly amplified water. The evocative and timbrally rich sound of water has inspired concrete and experimental music practices since ground-breaking works such as Hugh Le Cain’s ‘Dripsody’ and Knud Viktor’s obsessively aquatic ‘Images’. However, other than his compatriot Tomoko Sauvage, few have explored the possibilities of water in live performance to the extent that Fujita has, constructing a series of water tanks that, with their pumps and amplification controlled by the performer, become a new musical instrument. The recordings contained here are drawn from live performances in Tokyo and London, edited and mixed by Fujita into two side-length pieces dominated by water, pipe organ, voice and subtle electronics. On ‘AWA’, which occupies the LP’s first side, the listener is immediately immersed in an aqueous world of recognisable drips and splashes, as well as more mysterious squeaks and squawks. While the liberal use of delay at times conjures up the sound world of early electronic music, the sparklingly clear amplification is unmistakably contemporary, lending the music a stunning weight and tactility. Building over several minutes, the piece eventually comes to a rapid boil, criss-crossed by washes of white noise splashes of electronics, before the untempered long tones of the pipe organ enter. The slowly shifting harmonies lend the remainder of the side a meditative, almost oneiric quality, inviting listeners to lose themselves in the aquatic layers that ripple across the harmonic foundation. On the second side, ‘UZU’ begins more starkly, with a single rapid bubble, quickly joined by full-spectrum wooshes and silvery, ringing tones. After a few minutes, the music undergoes a radical, entirely unexpected shift with the entry of a distorted, auto-tuned voice that repeatedly cycles through ascending and descending melodies. Left alone at times to be heard acapella, this mysterious element at times takes an odd resemblance to dhrupad singing. Eventually joined by rich, sonorous chords from the organ, the high tones of Fujita’s voice, and water, the piece takes on an ecstatic quality, channelling the sublime expansiveness of the natural element on which it is built. Disappearing as abruptly as they entered, the voices then make way for a haunted coda of isolated drips and distant whistles. Far from the intellectualised abstraction of much sound art, NOISEEM is strikingly immediate, both rigorously experimental in its explorations and unashamedly direct in its musicality. Tracklist 1. Awa 2. Uzu

In 2020, a year shaped by stringent COVID-19 restrictions, many of us paused for thought about our collective futures. For First Light Records, this reflection, plus the support of Sound and Music's Composer-Curator programme, led to the development of Unbuilt Sound, a new series of commissions centred around acoustic ecology; the relationship between listener and environment. The first iteration of the Unbuilt Sound series sees Flora Yin-Wong retreat to an isolated cabin outside Machynlleth, North Wales, to collect the field recordings that provide the basis for her folklore-inspired album, The Sacrifice.

A collage of twisted field recordings, rich waves of synth, and whispered vocals, The Sacrifice oscillates between gentle familiarity and dreamlike distortions, inspiring a folkloric sense of place that extends across time. Softly dissonant drones envelop the sounds of rocks underfoot and rippling pools, a continuous call and response between artist and landscape. These themes are perhaps best captured on 'Willow Bends', which features spoken word written and performed by Berlin's Rachel Lyn. "Ride," she says, "these ancient and contemporary currents, carrying their secrets from up-stream. Wanderwaves, when pebbles skip across the ripples, I reflect upon it, this water mirror..."

Tartelet are proud to introduce the blissful, psychedelic electronic soul sound of ABUNAI on his sophomore album Chrysalis out May

20th. Across 11 songs the Oakland, CA-based multi- instrumentalist lays down a dreamlike style which should chimewith fans of Tame Impala, Khruangbin and James Blake alike. As well as the sun-soaked surrounding of his Californian home, ABUNAI’s family connection to Hawaii casts its influence over an album which has all the makings of a crossover success. Look no further than early support from the likes of Gilles Peterson, Don Letts, and Wayne Snow for further proof this album is set to blow up.

“My sound is definitely influenced by the live music I grew up with in the Bay Area,” says ABUNAI. “There's plenty of musical legacy here, including the '60s psychedelic and counterculture movements, the '90s rave scene, and the hyphy movement. "I'm always trying to connect the dots and blend all of my influences.

Chrysalis was, like so many recent albums, a project made largely in isolation during the pandemic, although ABUNAI did reach out to close collaborators Gravity and Raquel Marie to contribute some guest vocals, Kevin Farzad from Sure Sure for the acoustic drum parts and a few additional production touches from Tartelet regulars Glenn Astro and Max Graef. He bills the songs as an exercise in therapeutic self-care through lockdown as much as a balm for others. “It's music for healing,” ABUNAI explains, “for the listener to be able to marinate in the slow tempos, the dreamy textures, the swirling vocals, and the lush synthesizers. It’s very much about growth, re-emergence, and dreaming of a better future.”

As well as dealing in ear-catching pop melodies and sweet vocals, there’s an underlying theme of the ocean, which stems from his coastal surroundings and his family roots in the Pacific. “I think the album is aquatic,” he reflects, “and it feels like a voyage to me, or like a long shower, being reborn in the water. I played the album for my grandpa, who's a veteran sailor and pilot from Hawaii, and he said it was the perfect music to play when you're sailing on the open ocean at sunset.” Cast in nostalgic, soft-focus tones and endlessly soothing for the soul, Chrysalis is your new favourite record for tender moments, hazy days and starry-eyed reveries alike.

Following the precursor singles of 2021, Formality Jerne-Site’s unveiling is finally cast upon her already-growing fanbase. Trained classically as a composer and completing a masters at the Royal Danish Academy of Fine Arts, Jura introduces a highly-anticipated playground of carefully sculpted characters, plots and lessons - sometimes charming, sometimes nefarious, always absolute and sincere. A fictional land opens its doors and roof to us. A trio of trans kids run amok in rural suburbia. Various sorcerers of the wild future enter the scene on some songs; on others, the mind is cast to sun-drenched drives and journeys of yesteryear. At the heart is a pop sensibility: yearning, reflections, vanity, guesswork, hope. Jura is adamant about practice and precision. Dead seriously she offers, about making music: ‘Nothing should be half-hearted or an accident.’ There’s a maturity and elegance to her compositions, arrangements that - although at first sound seem abstract - lean away from experimental, somehow. She sing-speaks in English, and somehow not typically theatrically for such a play of a record. The theatrics are all real. It’s a fantasy land for sure, but it's based on hard facts. Like academia subdivided into poetry. It’s that weird-ass specificity she mentioned. Opener ‘Someone’s Lifework’ introduces less a choir of voices, than a choir of personalities. The art of storytelling is at the center of the musical expression. A protagonist relinquishes control of chaos that’s bigger than them on a perilous journey on some vessel: they comfort their co-passengers. There’s a sense that the hero - or anti-hero - might be more canny and cunning than the sweetness they first sell to fellow players. 'Is this our getaway chance?’ sings fellow Copenhagener Ydegirl amongst swelling synths and reverb that become so definitely Jerne-Site as the quest continues. The search? For intimacy, perhaps. ‘Same late Age (dIcK bIfFeReNcE)’ imbibes at once, some further disorientation, perhaps a little hallucinatory feeling which may come over the listener. Through a synthesizing of political themes that work across time ‘Same Late Age (dIcK bIfFeReNcE)’ bears reminiscences of the musical expressions of anti-capitalism in the 1980es, although in a new body and context. “I have a feeling that music reconjures societal morals and ideas from the time in which it was written when we press play or hear a live performance. From the moment at a concert when the symphonic orchestra starts tuning in, the time traveling begins. So I imagined how it would be to be trans sitting there playing the first violin, having the job of producing that first tone that all the other musicians around me tune in ona, ” Jura explains. The listener yearns for more; and subsequent tracks deliver. On ‘How Intimate It Gets,’ Jura meditates on the futility of closeness, begging the audience to enter the blood and guts of their own entanglements, the blueprints of focusing entering. Jura sings richly about fingers being lines, pointing or bending, and we’re reminded of their own wicked ways we can’t control. A history of singing in choirs informs the harmony of myriad inner voices heard across the album. At once prophetic and enigmatic, some of the songs rearrange historical events out of pop musical language. The enormously entertaining ‘Pinot-Botticelli Toast to European Users’ conjures scenes of Cold-War world leaders stuck on a cruise in the Transatlantic vacuum, and the protagonist watches a devastating heartbreaker careen on into the picture, led by his own hips on ‘The Lasceaux Associate’. Finally, on title track ‘Formality Jerne-Site’, American English rises to the occasion like a verdict around the narrative of three trans teenagers in rural Colorado: language turns into something sensual and haptic, playing with the snare and sizzle of syllables. The words twist and bend, while the music follows its own synaesthetic logic: “around us pop culture made a vow to a normative desire, drawing in like water color percussion”. Anyines is a site of play and documentation, with a canon so far quite nice. Their future is one that envisions supporting the galaxies their dear friends embody, be it music, performance, video games or beyond. Highlights from their discerning back catalogue include myriad formats: live and digital, plus releases binded to physical artefacts that enhance the live experience such as sculptures and scents. Their history also includes disappearing time-sensitive shadow-tracked material and cross-disciplinary opportunities that reflect deep professionalism and a totally non-schooled semblance of sound and drama. Recent releases include a dance-theatre soundtrack, a traditional shiny pop record, and the acclaimed ML Buch sophomore, Skinned.

Joe Rainey is a Pow Wow singer. On his debut album Niineta he demonstrates his command of the Pow Wow style, descending from Indigenous singing that's been heard across the waters of what is now called Minnesota for centuries. Depending on the song, his voice can celebrate or console, welcome or intimidate, wake you up or lull your babies to sleep. Each note conveys a clear message, no matter the inflection: We're still here. We were here before you were, and we never left. On Niineta, Rainey finds himself in between cultures, collaborating with producer Andrew Broder, who brought his turntablist sensibility to the project. The two of them met backstage at Justin Vernon's hometown Eaux Claires music festival before crossing paths more through the 37d03d collective, and both contributed to the last Bon Iver album before partnering up. "At first I didn't know what I could add," Broder says. "I came to understand everything is rooted in the drum-even the songs on our record that have no drum." Each song started with Broder's beats, the two of them experimenting with various sounds and tempos before orchestrating and recontextualizing the ancient sounds in strange, new in-between places, also pulling from Rainey's vast sample folder of pow wow recordings, layering in slices of his life. Niineta is a short version of the Ojibwe term meaning, "just me," and Rainey is using the term only in the sense that he's taking sole responsibility for the music. He is protective of Pow Wow culture-once outlawed by the US government and maintained in secret-while trying to figure out where he fits and how he can be creative with it. "These are my creations, but they're pow wow songs, and our language is sacred," he says. Rainey suggests conceptualizing the album as him working the door at a Pow Wow after party. "If I'm answering that door, I want to say, hey, yeah, come on in. But there's fucking tons of us in here. It ain't just me."