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In the spring of 1971, somewhere between Brussels, Paris and a collective pop fever dream, Le Monde Fabuleux Des Yamasuki landed on vinyl. It sounded like nothing else then and it still does not today. More than half a century later, Sdban Records proudly presents a reissue of this singular cult album, available from April 3, 2026 on vinyl.

The album was produced by Jean Kluger and written both by Jean and Daniel Vangarde (aka Bangalter, later the father of Thomas Bangalter of Daft Punk), who were alreadywell ahead of their time, long before electronic music rewrote the rules of pop culture.

Released under the name Yamasuki, also referred to as The Yamasuki Singers, or The Yamasuki's, the project was never intended as a conventional band. It was a studio-born fantasy, a concept album disguised as a pop record. What began as a standalone single quickly expanded into a full-blown pan-cultural pop opera that ignored genres and common sense with joyful abandon.

Musically, the album sits at a delirious crossroads. Psychedelic pop collides with funk rhythms, samba and bubblegum melodies, full of chants and choruses in a phonetic pseudo-Japanese, written with the help of a dictionary. Kluger and Vangarde famously recruited a children's choir to perform the vocals, and for added spectacle, they brought in a Japanese judo grandmaster, whose ritualistic shouts and battle cries erupt throughout the record.

Several singles were released. One of them, Yamasuki, with accompanying dance move, appeared in the United Kingdom and France on John Peel's Dandelion label, a fitting home for a record that thrived on the margins of pop culture. Its B-side, Aieaoa, proved even more potent. In 1975, the song was reborn as A.I.E. (A Mwana) by Black Blood, an African group recording in Belgium, this time sung in Swahili. That melody would travel even further. Aie a Mwana became the debut single of English pop group Bananarama, and in 2010 it resurfaced once more as Helele, an official song of the FIFA World Cup, recorded by South African singer Velile Mchunu with Danish percussion duo Safri Duo. That version became the most widely known incarnation of the song. With Jean Kluger directly involved, it was less a cover than a continuation of the original idea.

The album's afterlife did not stop there. Over the years, Yamasuki has been quietly sampled, covered, and featured across media far beyond the realm of novelty pop. Kono Samourai was sampled in The Healer by Erykah Badu (2007), produced by Madlib, while Yama Yama has found its way into recent pop culture as well: appearing in the television series Fargo, on Angus Stone's project Dope Lemon, and on the 2008 Late Night Tales compilation curated by Arctic Monkeys drummer Matt Helders. Proof, if any were needed, that this strange little record carries a deeper musical DNA than its playful exterior might suggest.

This new reissue of Le Monde Fabuleux Des Yamasuki proves the renewed interest and respect for this cult album, faithful to the original spirit while finally giving it back the physical presence it deserves. In an era obsessed with genres and algorithmic neatness, Yamasuki still laughs, dances and karate-kicks its way past definitions. It reminds us that pop music can be playful without being disposable, strange without being cynical and joyfulwithout explanation. The world of Yamasuki was always fabulous, we are just lucky it found its way back to us!

Meticulously assembled from a good 15 years' worth of source material, Cong Burn boss John Howes' second Paperclip Minimiser transmission proliferates its predecessor's network of turn-of-the-millennium aesthetics and concepts, bringing us closer to the lost future promised by the mid-digital age. If the debut album rooted itself in 2006, using an era-specific rig to activate its vintage Winamp-ready sound, 'II' pushes the clock forward just a little, recycling an unreleased album that Howes engineered in various locations across the north of England, starting way back in 2011. Working quickly and methodically with his homebrewed "DIY DAW" system, Howes improvised live using the record's bank of sounds, transforming the skittering bio-electronic rhythms, bitcrushed modem whines and inclement Lancs soundscapes into a suite of sleek, bass heavy steppers.

Howes has refined his setup and process over the years to function as an antithesis of contemporary production logic, a system that he can use easily to retreat from the excessive layering, overdubbing and editing that plagues modern electronic music. With only limited separate channels in each track, 'II' sounds both archaic and strangely novel. Showing respect to the early days of techno, when stone-cold classics were jammed out live using just a drum machine, a sampler and a couple of synths, Howes simultaneously acknowledges the promise of the transition to a digital future, as nascent algorithmic technology began to rehydrate stale rhythmic and melodic patterns. Fabricating its wrinkled cyberpunk landscape from shovelware blips and whines, spacious environmental echoes and lustrous, plasticky FM hits, 'II' is dense but never congested. It's a reminder that bass music thrives when it's given the room it needs to breathe.

“Certain albums hit like howling bullets at pivotal moments, tearing open the face of music to reveal hidden sonic muscles and fusing them back into something both strangely familiar and yet entirely unrecognisable. We believe this is one of those records.”

The double album Death of Music delivers 18 crooked vocal pops, some ruthless, others unexpectedly disarming. In some songs, Ajukaja & Mart Avi function like a two-headed saurus swinging its spiky tail to shady pop-house smackers. In others, Ajukaja's serene organ licks descend into subterranean caverns, allowing Avi to float to the surface on their wavelengths and turn his voice into billions of extinct moths, enslaved by the moonlight’s pull. There are songs that face destruction and those that seek to prevent it.

One kykeon rap goes, “If you die before you die, then when you die, you don't die!”. Ajukaja & Mart Avi have embraced this notion to create new music that allows them to thrive in the algorithmic wasteland. 13 years in the making, these 66 minutes are packed with lifetimes of truths you didn’t know you needed to know. They are Ajukaja & Mart Avi – two against death.

Produced by Ajukaja
Words by Mart Avi, Music by Raul Saaremets
Guitar and Bass by Sten Sheripov (Can’t Touch The Earth, Safe)
Sax by Steve Vanoni (I.D.O.L.)
Recorded between 2011—2024
Mastered by The Bastard
Cover Photo by fs
Sleeve by Marke, Mart Avi
Pressed in Tartu, Estonia

West Mineral returns with lushly amorphous actions by Shiner, Pontiac Streator & Ben Bondy aka Shinetiac; together fused for an immersive flux of vapoured dub, chopped and droned Billie Eilish, and fidgety algorithmic jams.

There's not a single, specific sound you can peg to the West Mineral axis at this stage in the label’s evolution - it's rather a set of shared aesthetics that freely bend into various interconnected shapes. Shinetiac's contemptuous, critic-baiting gear is the ideal example; on their last album, 2023's 'Not All Who Wander Are Lost', skittery, ketamized IDM sparkled over Spice Girls samples and the Foo Fighters' 'Everlong' was transmuted into Sneaker Pimps-style trip-hop. 'Infiltrating Roku City' might be a little less blatant with its out-and-out poptimism, but it takes a similarly dim view of conservative "big ambient" snobbishness. Just a few minutes of 'Bluemosa' should be enough to let you know what's up; the overall character of the sound is hazed, with frozen pads and garbled, dubbed-out voices smudged into a mess of effects and samples. But it sups up different nuances as it wriggles, absorbing scampering breaks, dizzy acoustic guitar strums and half-heard wordless vocals, flipping in the third act to emerge from its shell as minimalist balearic folk-pop - something like Bon Iver doing 'Electric Counterpoint'.

Brooklyn's Shiner, Philly's Pontiac Streator and Berlin-based Ben Bondy navigate the labyrinthine streaming landscape, guided by their own private experiences of mindless doom-scrolling and cruising the darkest corners of YouTube. They formulated 'Infiltrating Roku City' while they were rehearsing last year and spent the winter stitching together various recordings and jams into a layered, dry-witted commentary on our algorithmic reality. Laden with inside jokes and refried memes, it's surprisingly elegant gear; handling the most unseemly elements like sonic recyclers, earnestly repurposing pop and nostalgia to create an atmospheric echo of contemporary reality.

Screwing Chief Keef's enduring 'Citgo', 'Clublyfe (hulu)' emphasises the original's AFX-pilled euphoria with Robert Miles-style piano hits, replacing Young Ravisu's brittle 128kbps trap rhythm with a glitchy rattle that picks up dembow spikes as it rolls. 'I Hate Being Sober' vaporises the Chicago drill pioneer's 'Hate Bein' Sober', blocking out his voice with glitchy, downsampled interference and elasticated Rhodes. The trio team up with Orange Milk's goo age on the sublime 'Crisis Angel', catching a ray of Malibu's sunshine in the process, and reduce Billie Eilish's voice to a Romance-does-Celine cinder on 'Billie', stretching it to fit next to gassed Future ad-libs and swooping 808 Mafia sub womps. And although the album takes a murky diversion on 'Roku Axes Ultra’, and a cloud-stepping centrepiece ‘Purelink’ in homage to the eponymous dubbed ambient dynamos, it's back on course with 'Jiafei (NETFLIX)', taking aim at TikTok bot videos and welding screams from Florida metal band Underoath to AI-strength vocal curlicues.

Three musicians, three worlds: raga, jazz, and their own imagination. East, West, and the fusion in between. Rhythm, melody, and harmony. Past, present, and future.With 3, Ragini Trio experiences a rebirth - after years of deep exploration into long-form ragas, South Indian Carnatic traditions, konnakkol, and Western jazz.Thirteen years after their debut, this album stands as an homage to both worlds. By refusing to play things "as they should be played," Ragini Trio finds the in-between space - that magnetic tension where jazz and Indian classical music meet and transform each other.



Inspired by the traditional Indian trio of tabla, flute, and tanpura, Ragini offers its mirrored jazz response: drums, saxophone, and double bass. The result unites jazz, which seeks freedom within structure, with raga, which seeks structure within freedom. Far from purism or imitation, Ragini Trio crafts a living dialogue between rhythm, melody, and tone colour.



And it's a statement. Bursting with energy, depth, and self-irony, 3 is a vibrant antidote to the algorithmic recycle-music of today and tomorrow - born from the chemistry of three exceptional artists: saxophonist Nathan Daems, drummer Lander Gyselinck, and double bassist Marco Bardoscia.

A chance meeting in Mexico City set Points of Inaccessibility into motion. When Ibero-American composer Rafael Anton Irisarri crossed paths with Dutch media artist Jaco Schilp at MUTEK in 2024, a conversation about how technology shapes perception revealed an unexpected common ground. Schilp invited Irisarri to a spring 2025 residency at Uncloud, the Utrecht-based collective he co-founded, where Irisarri's sound began to take form amid an environment shaped by Schilp’s visual research.

The Uncloud studio was located inside the former Pieter Baan Centre, a forensic psychiatric prison where suspects of violent crimes were once confined. Its long history of silence and containment shaped the atmosphere in which the project developed. Within this setting, Irisarri coaxed long bowed-guitar tones through a network of pedals and looping systems. The raw gestures thickened into a vaporous and architectural field of sound. Schilp processed the material through a custom point-cloud software patch that produced images in continuous flux. The visuals flickered, dissolved and reformed like memories that resist coherence, functioning as a digital Rorschach that reflected the observer’s own perception.

Amid these spectral echoes, the project evolved into an examination of how the past persists within present signals. Memory endures as residue and interference, continually shaping perception even when its source has faded.

Schilp’s visual process required a continuous stream of sound in real time. Irisarri improvised throughout the residency, generating material that allowed the visuals to develop in parallel. Once back in his New York studio, he began shaping the recordings by carving pathways through the improvisations and mapping selected passages into MIDI. This process allowed him to build outward from the bowed-guitar material with minimal overdubs, adding Prophet 5 textures, Moog bass and strings that expanded the harmonic field while keeping the original performances at the center. To refine the structure, Abul Mogard provided editorial input, working with Irisarri’s stems to guide transitions and strengthen the overall pacing. The material, originally created under conditions of immediacy and constraint, evolved into a fully realized work through careful revision, patience and sustained reworking.

The title engages the geographic concept of the Poles of Inaccessibility, locations defined solely by their distance from all surrounding points. Irisarri adapts this idea to the conditions of digital life, where new forms of inaccessibility arise through the informational enclosures that structure perception. What appears to be a fully connected network often produces a deeper kind of separation, one shaped by the filtering logic of the systems that mediate experience. In this sense, the digital sphere mirrors its geographic counterpart. We inhabit spaces saturated with signals, yet the possibility of genuine contact becomes increasingly remote.

At its core, Points of Inaccessibility considers what can be understood as the new rituals of capitalist realism. Irisarri uses the term digital shamanism to describe the forms of simulated connection that organize contemporary life. These systems promise comfort through algorithms, influencers and AI interlocutors, yet they often reproduce the same conditions that generate loneliness in the first place. What appears as connection becomes the echo of connection, a sequence of gestures that imitate solidarity while withholding it. Like the geographic poles, these rituals are defined by distance. They pull us into environments where everything is illuminated, yet meaningful proximity becomes increasingly rare. In this sense, the work approaches a hauntology of the present, a reflection on futures that have stalled and intimacies that have been thinned by the algorithmic infrastructures that surround us.

This thematic tension unfolds across the album’s four movements. Faded Ghosts of Clouds introduces the work with textures that rise and dissipate in slow cycles, creating an atmosphere that resists clear definition. Breaking the Unison occupies a pivotal position in the sequence and focuses on the moment when the individual and the system fall out of alignment. Its shifting patterns trace the scattering of signals that once suggested connection, revealing the instability at the heart of contemporary perception. Signals from a Distant Afterglow forms the center of the album and features vocals by Karen Vogt, whose presence enters the sound field like a fragile transmission shaped by distance and delay. The closing piece, Memory Strands, follows motifs that appear, recede and briefly intersect before returning to quiet. Across these movements, the album outlines a landscape in which emergence and disappearance continually inform one another.

Listening to Points of Inaccessibility is an encounter with a sound field that is constantly in flux. Elements surface briefly, shift position and recede, creating a sense of motion that resists stable interpretation. The music moves between closeness and vastness, carrying traces of memory while withholding a clear point of resolution.

The album’s visual identity completes the project’s conceptual arc. In Mexico City, where Irisarri and Schilp first met, Daniel Castrejón transformed stills from Schilp’s point-cloud visuals into the cover image. The final artwork captures a single suspended frame of the digital material, a moment extracted from a field that is normally in constant motion. Its surface recalls the texture and abstraction found in the work of Catalan artist Antoni Tàpies, where material presence and erasure coexist within the same plane.

What emerges is a work that examines the tension between technological systems and human presence. Points of Inaccessibility asks whether connection is still possible within environments shaped by mediation and delay, or whether we have become isolated points within the very networks that promise proximity. What possibilities for relation persist within environments organized by algorithms and interruption? And how are we meant to understand presence when so much of it is constructed at a distance?

Points of Inaccessibility will be released on BioVinyl on February 6, 2026, with audiovisual performances planned throughout 2026.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu
Artwork by Jaco Schilp
Design and layout by Daniel Castrejón
Artist photo by Iulia Alexandra Magheru.

'In 2023, sound artist and composer Weston Olencki toured across the American South. Beginning in their hometown in South Carolina, they snaked a circuitous path from the mountains of West Virginia to the banks of the Mississippi River. As the miles accumulated, so did the initial seeds of new work.
'Instruments and artifacts they acquired hitched a ride in the backseat, while songs and sounds filled their portable recorder: water in its various states, the familiar insectoid buzz of those summer nights, trains cutting through the landscape, the traditional music that lived alongside the communities that kept it. Olencki took it all in, and over time, found ways that these experiences coalesced into a bramble-like perspective of time, where past, present, and future intersect in ways both barbed and beautiful.
'Broadsides, Olencki’s newest solo full-length is the multilayered result of this journey. The album follows their landmark release Old Time Music from 2022, which presented radical interpretations of traditional tunes from Appalachia and throughout the South alongside original compositions that drew significantly on archival recordings. On Broadsides, Olencki rejects delineations between the unmoored avant-garde and the rootedness of one’s cultural heritage, revealing their porous and intertwined nature. “My mother was a quilter. Her mother before that,” they write in the album’s liner notes. “Quilting, like music, is a practice of embedding knowledge and remembrance into the very core of the thing you are making. It’s not just about the materials, but how they’re reassembled, recontextualized, stitched, woven to form new patterns - the minutiae of craft holding significance to those looking to find it. Stories woven from stories, never told the same way twice.”
'Like all great road trips, Broadsides unfolds slowly and continuously, with moments of dramatic reverie punctuating the endless melt of highway in the rearview. We’re immediately confronted by the uncanniness of revisiting old haunts, as Southern storms break through the initial churn of the freight locomotives of Alabama. Olencki’s interpretation of the bluegrass standard “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” captures the euphoria of melancholy in motion. The permutational plucks of banjo are bounced around the frame by a computer, its pitches determined within algorithmic sequences and transcriptions of classic three-finger licks. The tonalities of old-time are smeared and stretched until all that’s audible is the insistence that Heaven might be real.
'In the album’s second half, “Omie Wise,” a murder ballad made famous by Doc Watson, follows an interlude recorded on the river in North Carolina in which the titular character’s body was laid. Ghostly echoes of a dozen other renditions float through the substrata as Tongue Depressor’s Henry Birdsey accompanies them on the pedal steel guitar. The album’s central composition, “all my father’s clocks,” is a profound meditation on entropy and impermanence. The sound of their father’s extensive clock collection ticks away as Olencki pulls a bow across the length of an autoharp sourced from a rural strip mall. The instrument was left as detuned as it was found, the resonance of its deep bass drone and clanging high-end the result of years of neglect and the warping effects of Southern humidity.
'Historically, broadsides were an early form of broadcasting, an often- musicalized telling of current news pasted in the public square. The name was later taken up by Sis Cunningham and Gordon Friesen in the 1960s, whose Broadside magazine published songs and social commentary when American folk music resurfaced as an urgent way of communicating the multifaceted politics of its time.
'Olencki borrows the phrase to recall both this old form of songmaking and that later prominent reexamination of traditional music’s role in modern life, but also to draw attention to the fragmented and machine- mediated way heritage is diffused in this very different, but no less pivotal, moment.
'As a sanitized past is used as justification for current violence and domination, we can turn to these artifacts to better understand the history of ourselves, but only if they are consciously pushed to evolve. Broadsides represents one personal, striking vision of what far-flung futurisms could be respun from = these high, lonesome sounds: a reflection of the unbridled joy and deep sorrow inherent to living together through time, and a desire to push further into the untold and unknown.'

On »Empty Room,« David Granström works with slow transformations, cyclical and isometric patterns as well as just intonation as a way to create harmonic stability, allowing his long-form pieces to develop their own unique temporal and spatial qualities. A prolific figure in Stockholm’s experimental drone scene and a collaborator of Hallow Ground label mates Maria W Horn and Mats Erlandsson, the Swedish composer navigates through moments of quietude and crushing volume on these five tracks. Sonically and atmospherically, the pieces on »Empty Room« simultaneously call to mind Fennesz’s most meditative work or the physical experience of seeing Sunn O))) live, blending guitar recordings and synthesised sounds with forceful effects similar to those of Mario Díaz de Leon’s Oneirogen project while still being as moving and delicate as Alessandro Cortini’s solo work. The album is marked by melodies and harmonies that are the product of a peculiar working process that turned the composer into an intent listener collaborating with, rather than simply using technology.

Having been invited by the self-organising artist group The Non Existent Center for a residency to Ställbergs Gruva, a defunct iron ore mine in Sweden’s Bergslagen region, Granström took his guitar as a starting point for his compositional work that heavily relies on real-time sound synthesis. »I seldomly use the instrument as a sound source in the final compositions and rather transcribe and orchestrate the harmonic structures using sound synthesis,« he explains. »On this album however, I chose to include the actual recordings of the guitar in order to extend the spectra between non-referential synthetic sounds and embodied referential sounds.« Working with precise tunings in order to blend the timbre of the synthesis with the harmonic structures of the composition, he created composite sound objects in which the harmonic elements blend into each other.

Through the re-amplification of synthetic musical materials from the inside of the abandoned mine, his original compositions were enriched with site-specific sound qualities before he further refined them in a singular working process. Granström works with algorithmic and generative processes, using the SuperCollider programming environment and thus blurring the lines between generative and creative forms of composition. »One of the things that I like about this way of working is that it creates a distance between myself as a composer and myself as a listener of the music that is produced entirely by the system,« he says. Granström’s technologically aided eschewing of the conventions of composing doesn’t make the end result any less personal, however. By listening again and again to the newly generated output, Granström simply took on a different role in the process of finalising the music, with the technology and the sounds becoming his co-authors.

By creating systems that generate music, he gains a new perspective on (musical) time, says Granström. »There doesn't have to be a fixed length to the music at all,« he explains. »And by writing music with this in mind, my focus tends to shift towards writing cyclical structures that gradually change and transform over time.« Simple parts, in other words, that emerge as the five complex wholes that form »Empty Room,« a record that itself seems to take on different forms with every new listen.

Editions Mego is proud to release the new album by Australian producer Jasmine Guffond. Developed over a two year period, Microphone Permission is an unsettling musical journey utilising contemporary tools of communication to display Guffond's ongoing research into online surveillance and sound as a method of investigation.

Source material on Microphone Permission are from various projects Guffond has been working on; a commission to sonify the data of the city of Melbourne, a dance performance about the future sounds of an extinct forest, an installation that sonifies Twitter meta data in real time, a job as a composer for a theatre work about music and feminism by five young female identifying performers in Western Sydney and a site specific installation at the Linachtalsperre dam that employed the harmonic frequencies of electric currents.

The results are a stark, brooding, disorientating journey into a paranoid musical field that sits somewhere between ambient club music and a dystopian soundtrack. Elements of techno, classical music and sound art form a dark intriguing masterwork that questions the nature of invasive, algorithmic and computational listening practices.

For example Microphone Permission refers to the consent we routinely give when installing various apps. onto our smart devices. Inspired by a 2018 scandal in which fans of Spain's most popular soccer team were effectively turned into unwitting spies by granting the La Liga application microphone permission. No matter which make or model, all smart devices are built with a microphone that is by default, forever listening. Listening in these situations often takes on an algorithmic form that enables tech developers to bypass public response to what is intuitively considered invasive practice, that is, traditional modes of eavesdropping such as using the microphone to listen and record audio.

Previously released on Jeff Mills' Axis Records as part of The Escape Velocity series, The Hidden Notes projects finds Rod20 (aka ROD) exploring the deeper more intimate space-trip side of Techno. "With techno verging towards the peak of mainstream exposure, alongside algorithmic distractions altering our sub-consciousness, The Hidden Notes Project shows my deepest intimate quest into inner psychoacoustics frequencies, without the urgency to shout, convince or adapt in a rat race driven outside world. Sequences of bleeps & tones that the modern ear has grown accustom to in the wider context of noise. But what if we become the noise controlling our existence? What if undiscovered planets and abstract concepts we humans don't understand were hidden in our consciousness all along? Which stars are we actually chasing? Most above all The Hidden Notes Project finds me leaving the theory of context and embracing the purpose of internal control."

TIMEPOINT is the studio album distilled from Stéphane Bissières’ eponymous audiovisual performance, where modular synthesis meets generative real-time visuals. In the live show, sound and image are intertwined: each musical gesture informs a visual response, creating a dynamic, evolving environment where music and visuals interact organically.

Paris-based composer and new media artist Stéphane Bissières works at the intersection of electronic music, generative art, and cybernetics. He develops algorithmic systems that explore timbre, structure, and the interplay of energies, translating data into immersive sensory experiences.

For TIMEPOINT, Bissières transforms the live, algorithmic energy into a self-contained sonic journey. Using modular synthesis and generative composition, he builds intricate, evolving textures that balance chaos and structure — a sonic ecosystem reflecting movement, pattern, and organic order.

The music explores timbre as a central element, sculpting sounds that resonate with the visual patterns of the performance. Each track functions as a microcosm of the show: algorithmically generated sequences, cybernetic textures, and evolving layers converge to form a lush, immersive soundscape.

TIMEPOINT invites listeners to explore a world where technology, imagination, and organic structure coexist. It’s an intimate translation of a live audiovisual universe, now accessible as a focused listening experience.

Lexachast is an ongoing collaborative work by Amnesia Scanner, Bill Kouligas & Harm van den Dorpel.
Initially birthed as a joint, improvised performance between Amnesia Scanner and Kouligas at the ICA, London in 2015, it was later recreated and extended with visual artist van den Dorpel into a 15-minute online-only audiovisual work – known simply as Lexachast. Since then, it has expanded into a live show that has been performed at Transmediale, CTM Festival, Unsound Krakow & Adelaide, Next and LEV Festival and during Paris Fashion Week in collaboration with the brand Ottolinger. Now to be released on PAN, is a new document of Lexachast in its current, full-grown form.
Whilst broadly inspired by the experience derived from and exposure to algorithmic patterns as generated by visual artist Harm van den Dorpel’s specially- devised program, the work is a sonic reference to the fallouts of avant-EDM and cyberdrone. This in turn is simultaneously mirrored by the perturbing visuals, created by a unique algorithm that sources and blends various filtered imagery from DeviantArt and Flickr in real time – with a bias towards the NSFW, extreme banality, and ornamental melancholia. The results were a perfect fit for the deliberate intention of non-intent, an anti-video of sorts, which ended up as a defining element for the project.

Recorded in concert at the University of Sheffield in March 2025, Reality Is Not A Theory is the first collaboration between Mark Fell and Pat Thomas. Major figures in British experimental music since the 1990s, Fell and Thomas have developed their rigorous practices from radically different backgrounds and perspectives: where Fell’s singular take on synthetic abstraction emerged from Sheffield’s electronic underground, Thomas is a virtuoso improvising pianist steeped in jazz and modernist art music who has simultaneously worked with sampler-based electronics for decades. As the record’s wonderfully academic subtitle explains, we are presented here with two sides of ‘algorithmic and improvised music for computer and piano’, exemplifying both players’ insatiable search for new (and sometimes uncomfortable) playing situations.

The performance begins with Fell’s electronics close to the timbres of acoustic percussion, attacks that suggest wood, metal or glass threaded along a rapid pulse while Thomas focuses on the lowest registers of the piano, deadening the strings. As Fell’s electronics start to ring out and occupy more harmonic space, Thomas turns to wide, repeated clusters, which slowly expand into patterns of chords. Like in his recent solo recordings and his trio work with Joel Grip and Anton Gerbal, Thomas’ playing combines extreme dissonance with a deep lyrical sense. Fell’s work gradually shifts its focus toward drum sounds, drawing on the microtemporal processes that have characterized his practice in recent decades. Heard together with Thomas’ probing piano, the computer sounds call up unexpected associations with the klangfarben antics of improv drummers like Paul Lovens or Tony Oxley. Throughout its second half, the music grows increasingly frenetic, as Thomas sounds out rapid, irregularly repeated figures and beautifully sour chords in the upper register, while Fell’s percussion develops into angular pan-pipe-like feedback and waves of glissandi.

With great confidence and patience, Fell and Thomas often let their individual contributions remain rhythmically distinct and unsynchronised, allowing unexpected correspondence and coincidence to guide the music’s development. Recorded in a hall named after Sheffield steel manufacturer and Master Cutler Mark Firth, the location might suggest a model for understanding how Fell and Thomas interact here: two workers in the same workshop, each immersed in their own part of the production process. Arriving in a striking sleeve designed by Mark Fell, with liner notes by Francis Plagne, Reality Is Not A Theory is an invigorating document of the meeting of two mavericks of contemporary music.

Slip is Paul Abbott’s response to his 3 day residency at OTO in 2023. It’s a continued exploration of the acoustic-digital hybrid drum setup Abbott has been developing for some time, which involves drum kit and synthetic sounds combined closely—through an entanglement of limbs and cables—in an intimate but strange relationship with each other.

Paul Abbott hasn’t had any formal musical training, but has a long history of making music, having collaborated for years with Seymour Wright, Pat Thomas, Michael Speers, Cara Tolmie, Anne Gillis and many others. Eventually, led by a profound suspicion of what is fixed or limited, Abbott began finding other ways to organise sound - or what he calls ‘material’:

“I wanted a way to 'persuade' or guide the possibility of something happening - my activity or the events of an algorithmic composition - for example, but without certainty or formalism. It felt to me, during playing, that certain ideas had a particular sort of shape, but more than the form of a line. I began to write alongside (before/after) playing the drums, and ‘characters’ began to enter the scene as a more wobbly, and therefore appropriate option to notation. Working with these characters allowed me to simultaneously approach body, imagination, language and music: without dividing things up or separating these aspects from each other. It allowed me to leave things messy and entangled, whilst trying to deal with form and specificity: wanting to have some things feel or respond differently to other things at other times.”

In approaching his residency, Abbott developed a fixed cast of characters - crystal, lleaf, reiy.F, reiy.C, strike, nee, qosel, sphu and aahn. They each communicate using different kinds of movement and drum kit/s, and Abbott choreographed them as ‘dances’ based on different feelings, or outlines of behaviours suggestive of ways of moving (body, drums, sounds). He then arranged these characters into ‘compositions’: one for each performance day, with each composition featuring multi-layered activity - options for behaviours, ways to move around the rooms, play drums, develop synthetic sounds, change the lights or re-distribute the sound in the space.

After the performances, Abbott took home 9 hours of recordings split into up to 28 multitrack channels for each day, and re-organised his cast once more into a performance for 2LP, CD and digital. It’s an enormous amount of work - but Abbott is activated by the process. For him, the pleasure of unstable edges, possibilities, slippages, is the vital attraction. Like all living organisms, Abbott’s characters have malleability and responsivity. They stimulate a bundle of possible behaviours, a tendency to act a certain way, a temperament, a boundary of respective limits or affordances.

It’s an affective way of working, inclusive of Roscoe Mitchell, Sun Ra, Nathaniel Mackey and Milford Graves. In ‘Pulseology’(2022), Milford Graves reminds us, ‘Breath varies, so cardiac rhythm never has that (metronomic) tempo. It’s always changing. All the alignments of the heart are determined based on the needs of the cells, specifically tissues and organs. The heart knows if it needs to speed up.’ In Slip, to slip, in a heartbeat, is to descend not into the grid of the even metre accorded to the heartbeat, but into a play of mutability and modality. To change is the condition of the heart.

Acclaimed electronic musicians, producers and sound architects Max Cooper and Rob Clouth team up for a new collaborative EP; a dark, playful four-track dive into ambient, breakbeat and techno’s subconscious flow, featuring a standout vocal performance from South London rapper FLOHIO.

Recorded over a series of spontaneous London sessions, “8 Billion Realities” channels years of creative exchange between two of the genre’s most quietly innovative artists and is a result of a decision between the longtime friends to refrain from conceptual overthinking in favour of instinct and joy.

As long-time admirers of each other’s audio/visual work, Cooper and Clouth collaborated in London together after both emerging from intense, idea-heavy album cycles. What followed was a series of exploratory sessions, half-improvised, half-built around half-formed thoughts.

The result is a club-ready EP that feels alive and human: imperfect and hypnotically rich.

“Rob Clouth has been one of my favourite electronic music producers since I first heard his work in 2011,” says Cooper. “His work is more full of ideas and structure than anyone else.” “We were both coming from extensive conceptual studio albums and both in the mood for simplifying things and having some fun with the music, so that’s what we did”.

For Clouth, no stranger to Max Coopers Mesh label having previously released an array of EP’s plus his 2020 debut album “Zero Point” this record marks a new chapter, both creatively and personally.“Something pretty new for me is collaborating,” he says. “You kind of have to when to stop, because if you develop an idea all the way to its endpoint, the other person has nowhere to jump in.”

The first “A Moment Set Aside” began as a break from another idea, a live, unplanned improvisation based around arps and ambience. “The track was written in about as long as it took to play it,” says Cooper. “It was pulled from a 1 hour recording session, more or less as you hear it… the energy and excitement grew as the unplanned moment bore some magic.”

“The lesson being that sometimes it’s helpful to set aside a moment without forcing results, and let the subconscious have something to say.” What followed was darker, heavier. “Asymptote” is detuned techno. Subversive and euphoric in its descent. “We found a sort of brain mangling, half consonant, half wandering detuned techno pulse, which we started chatting about being a sort of pit of spiralling body parts we were falling into,” says Cooper. “It was a lot of fun to work on and let loose with bigger kicks than I usually ever get to unleash.”

Then came “8 Billion Realities”, featuring a standout rap performance from FLOHIO; an emerging figure in the UK grime and rap scene. The track was inspired by conversations about algorithmic echo chambers and hyper-personalised online worlds. Frantic, direct, and South London to the core, FLOHIO brings this tension to life. Her sharp, intense flow cuts through distortion and rhythm, landing the track somewhere between chaos and control instantly making it one of the most striking moments in either artist’s catalogue. “A different reality for all 8 billion of us,” says Cooper. “We weren’t sure if it would work… but there was something about the energy of the percussive idea and the story which felt like it might fit.” “Then FLOHIO had a play with it and straight off the bat absolutely killed it, not just with the lyrics and energy, but the harmonising too, it was a beautiful process.”

The final piece on the EP “Candeleda” originated from Clouth’s solo experiments with a live rig made entirely of vocals and keys, using his self-developed “cheatbox” system. “He put forward a beautiful stumbling melodic sequence which we bounced back and forth adding harmonies and synth layers,” says Cooper. “It rounds off a collection covering some of the breadth of music that we both love.”

Pickle Darling has always existed just outside of the periphery. In a heightened time of fast music, algorithmic consumption and rapid virality, Lukas Mayo (they/them) has remained focused on the album. Their discography is a reflection of their creative evolution, and they deliberately look for ways to push sonic boundaries from release to release. Since debuting with Bigness in 2019 followed by Cosmonaut in 2021, Mayo has curated a catalog that is deeply personal and strangely tactile, where tiny, unexpected details_an off-kilter loop, a whispered aside, the warmth of an old Casio_become as crucial as melody itself. Their 2023 LP Laundromat was a precise and polished expansion of that world, a record that felt like it had been carefully placed behind glass. Their forthcoming fourth album, Battlebots, by contrast, is unruly and full of static: a collection of songs that feel like they could only ever exist on scratched CD-Rs passed between friends. Self-recorded in their home studio in Christchurch, New Zealand, it finds Mayo taking a scalpel to their own songwriting. Songs were stretched, chopped, reversed. Some ideas started as "unlistenable garbage" before morphing into something unexpectedly beautiful. If a song felt too straightforward, Mayo had to mess it up. That friction of old and new, organic and digital, melody and noise is what drives Battlebots. Drawing inspiration from a strange, scattered lineage: Four Tet's Rounds, The Books, Neneh Cherry's Broken Politics, The Wrens' Three types of reading ambiguity, but also the emotional directness of 2000s pop like Madonna's Ray of Light and Robyn's Body Talk, the result is an album that feels like a glitch in the system, pushing against past constraints while embracing the weird, beautiful mess of making something new.

Ma Haiping's "Mind Reader," on SCAN Records, the new label from Detroit legend SCAN 7, is an EP that extends his Detroit Futurism aesthetic, reimagining techno as a vehicle for paranoia and prophecy in the algorithmic age. It's a tense, synth-driven meditation on surveillance and synthetic reality. "Mind Reader" suggests our devices aren't just watching—they're thinking. The standout, "Sensitive Period" (with Shanghai Ultra), pulses with restraint, while "No Exposed" explores icy isolation. Classic 808s and funky basslines nod to Drexciya, but Ma's voice is unmistakable: cerebral, tactile, and deeply attuned to the present moment's fractured frequencies.

Though they may not have intended to do so, Naptown's trinity, also known as 81355 (pronounced BLESS), rang out as revolutionaries with their 2021 debut record This Time I'll be of Use. When Oreo Jones, Sirius Blvck, and Sedcairn come together, genre evaporates into enthralling poeticism and sonic hypnosis. Their sophomore LP Bad Dogs, releasing July 11th on Joyful Noise Recordings, acts as an expansive continuation of 81355's signature sound: an angelic, gritty, enthralling urban hymnal for the disillusioned mind. The history of 81355 stretches far back into the history of Naptown's creative scene. Jones and Blvck struck a match as one of Indy's most influential hip-hop collectives, Ghost Gun Summer, before they brought on Sedcairn (Moose Adamson) in 2020. Before Adamson infused 81355 with his melodic soundscapes, he produced Grampall Jookabox, an underground indie meets jangle pop project. Though they may be known primarily for their musical notoriety, the members of 81355 are steadfast in their commitment to uplifting their community with collective creative expansion. Sean (Oreo Jones), alongside his partner Jane Sun Kim, produces and curates Chreece, the largest Midwestern Hip-Hop festival hosted in the heart of Naptown. Niq (Sirius Blvck) is pivotal in the empowerment and advancement of Indy Hunger Network, a local non profit that addresses food insecurity across Indianapolis. Moose (Sedcairn) is a key contributor to Joyful Noise, an Indy based independent label cutting records for artists of all genres. For the first time, the project's live band is part of the production, with Sharlene Birdsong on bass guitar, Dimitri Morris on guitar, and Pat Okerson on drums. The Bad Dogs listening experience also seeps into visual realms: a short film titled Sleep Study will be released in tandem. Sleep Study_soundtracked, written, and produced by 81355, who also star in the film alongside friends and fellow artists from the community_features afrofuturistic sci-fi undertones that explore the toxifying implications of algorithmic control, postmodern brain rot, and late-stage capitalism. As the texturally emotive punctum of its cover art (painted by Stockholm based artist Julia de Ruvo) conveys, the heart of Bad Dogs draws its perseverance from the wild reservation dogs pulsing through the rust-hued indigenous lands of New Mexico and beyond. They are untethered in their roaming, sacred in their fierce communal belonging, yet undefined by a physical place. A vital essence mirrored by 81355: boundaryless, primal creative cultivation that defies what some may attempt to categorize as hip hop or progressive rap.

3XL’s first new release in 2025 by Italian trio Cortex of Light is a synapse-tickling dose of classic FSOL-era world-building that takes in gloopy trance cooked down with sub-heavy, vaporous dub, mutant acid, breakbeat rave, Artificial Intelligence and a Mark Fell-style algorithmic brainmelt.

You'll know if you've spent any time following Piezo's output that the Milan-based producer and Ansia boss has a knack for lysergically enhancing any club template he sets his sights on. With releases on Idle Hands, Wisdom Teeth, Loefah's 81 and most recently Dekmantel, Luca Mucci has blottered up dubstep, hard drum, 2-step and minimal techno, here re-convening with fellow Milanese journeymen Aitch and primordial OOze/xàr num as Cortex of Light to blur those edges even further

'ILLUMINOTECNICA' isn't the trio's first release, but it's their most substantial and easily most developed. If 2024's 'Aeon Is A Child At Play With Colored Balls' showed off their aptitude for threading their luminous soundscapes into a horizontal soundtrack, then this album is a proper chance for Cortex of Light to show off their versatility in a different setting, matching dancefloor hallucinations with expertly sculpted sound design.

Psilocybin-tainted soundscapes scrape into breathy flute sounds and chest-thumping bass drops on the opener, haunted by a vision of electronic music that's been contrived in back rooms, squats and outdoor raves for decades at this point. Like so much of the rest of the 3XL catalog, there's a drive and coherence here that comes from classic dub techno and chill-out room fodder (think The Black Dog or Pentatonik), but always infused with something that dates it to the present era, be it a tactile sliver of Visible Cloaks-style neo-new age ambience, or a sort of mescaline-dipped take on Photek's bass-heavy, meticulously hazed 'Solaris' period downtempo gear, chopped 'n screwed into the uncanny.

Drag City and Yoga Records are delighted to return to the music of Matthew Young. Following Recurring Dreams (1981, reissued 2014) and Traveler"s Advisory (1986, reissued 2010), Undercurrents (2025) collects eight oddly dissimilar pieces that somehow fit together perfectly. Ranging from heady synthesizer experiments to earthy dulcimer meditations, Undercurrents is unique enough to be called outsider while still occupying a musical world accessible to fans of many genres. Composed and recorded over the span of several decades, Undercurrents displays the wide range of Young"s various sonic pallets: similar to Recurring Dreams, the electronic landscapes meander coherently, and much like Traveler"s Advisory, the album skews from the nearly algorithmic computer music of side one to the moving pastoral folk of the second.