Search:alien thing

REISSUE of Sun And Sail Club sophomore album. The name might be the Sun and Sail club, but you'll find no yacht rock here. Instead of Michael McDonald, we have Bad Brains. Kenny Loggins? Hall and Oats? More like Matt Pike and Lemmy Fucking Kilmister. "The Great White Dope" is featuring members of Kyuss, Fu Manchu, and the Adolescents, containing 10 riff-filled tracks of high energy, bullshit-free punk and sleaze. The song writing on 'The Great White Dope' steers away from the experimental direction of their previous release, and it's laser focused on one thing: unapologetically rocking your face off. The vocoder is gone and they've recruited singer Tony Adolescent, who delivers balls to the wall vocals with no added effects or frills. The production, like the music itself, is loud, heavy, and beautifully simple. "This record is a direct result of my wife telling me she was pregnant with our son. As a first time father, panic set in and I wrote the album in two hours. I wasn't sure if I'd have a lot of time once he was born so I crammed as many frantic riffs into one album as possible. Looking back it's funny to listen to now, but at the time I was on a mission. Everyone killed it on this record and we recruited Tony Adolescent on vocals which is unreal to me." - Bob Balch

REISSUE of Sun And Sail Club sophomore album. The name might be the Sun and Sail club, but you'll find no yacht rock here. Instead of Michael McDonald, we have Bad Brains. Kenny Loggins? Hall and Oats? More like Matt Pike and Lemmy Fucking Kilmister. "The Great White Dope" is featuring members of Kyuss, Fu Manchu, and the Adolescents, containing 10 riff-filled tracks of high energy, bullshit-free punk and sleaze. The song writing on 'The Great White Dope' steers away from the experimental direction of their previous release, and it's laser focused on one thing: unapologetically rocking your face off. The vocoder is gone and they've recruited singer Tony Adolescent, who delivers balls to the wall vocals with no added effects or frills. The production, like the music itself, is loud, heavy, and beautifully simple. "This record is a direct result of my wife telling me she was pregnant with our son. As a first time father, panic set in and I wrote the album in two hours. I wasn't sure if I'd have a lot of time once he was born so I crammed as many frantic riffs into one album as possible. Looking back it's funny to listen to now, but at the time I was on a mission. Everyone killed it on this record and we recruited Tony Adolescent on vocals which is unreal to me." - Bob Balch

25 years ago, this record sprang on the scene— a record holding a voice impossible to draw comparison to, and lyrics and stories alien to anything that resonated from The Opry’s stage beforehand. Mary was the first openly queer person to play The Opry, and for us at KRS, this record encapsulates things new, exciting, bold, while being an absolute standout to what the realm of Americana has to offer. This is an authentic American experience, cliches weren’t needed. Mary is a legend. This record will always feel new, exciting, and bold.

It has now been four years since our return to earth in "2020 back to earth". There we had found a cold and inhospitable place, humanity was inexorably channeled on the path to extinction. We therefore decided to flee immediately in search of another planet where we could dwell.
We therefore came to New Babylon, a planet inhabited by humanoids but also by monstrous and ravenous creatures. There are "giants" that march about raising immense clouds of dust, stealing and plundering everything from people. Giants much like our corporations, they know no defeat and have no weaknesses, at least apparent ones.
There are old warriors like jarek who wait for war to feel like heroes, to feel alive. They find their dimension within the battle, where the line between hero and assassin magically blurs.
There are pyramids erected by men who think they are gods and turn the things life gives them into weapons and death, changing their use and meaning. Little men who think themselves omnipotent, burying knowledge of how life works under piles of lies.
We find a myriad of slaves, surrendered to live in huge troughs. They toil at nothing and find meaning in nothing. They prefer a convenient lie to an inconvenient truth.
In short, we realize that we have arrived in a world very much like earth. We are aliens but in a certain way we feel at home. We want to know, to understand, to evolve. We don't recognize ourselves in this deceived humanity, we don't give in, we believe. Nature, life is wonderful but when one thing loses its usefulness life gently explains to it that it is time to make room for something else. This existence has already explained to the dinosaurs.
Kayleth continue their journey, never stopping because who seeks will find itself.

"New Babylon ranks next to Space Muffin as Kayleth’s best album for me and one that contains some of their best grooves of their career to date." - Outlaws Of The Sun
"Sit down and really take in We Are Aliens as it’s a joy to listen to, but are the aliens we think exist, just like us? Let Kayleth take you on their journey of discovery." - The Sleeping Shaman
"On this album the Italian five manage to translate heroism into wild and wonderful sounds, often sounding even more like a grungier, metal version of Monster Magnet, mixed with mix a definitive love for Kyuss, Orange Goblin and a prog rock outfit like Riverside." - Stoner Hive
"It’s a call to arms for the dreamers and the rebels, a reminder that no matter how dark the journey, there is always light to be found. This album is a must-listen for anyone into psych stoner rock!" - Witching Buzz
"New Babylon is a triumph. It’s an album that demands to be listened to in full, each track a journey through heavy riffs and cosmic themes." - Iron Backstage
"Listening to a piece like 'New Babylon's Wall,' you can appreciate the richness and sonic fertility of the group, with beautiful melodies enriched by the right amount of electronics, starting from a psych conception of the stoner sound, and there is no lack of prog elements, all with beautiful melodies. As mentioned earlier, a sci-fi band in both approach and essence." - InYourEyesEzine
"KAYLETH doesn't reinvent anything, but they absolutely crush it by the rules!" - Rock'N Force
"Stoner rock has rarely sounded as original, diverse and intoxicating as it does here!

Readers of encyclopedic tomes are obviously familiar with exploding animals – there are numerous reports of torn-apart toads (even in Hamburg, Germany!), actual ants exploding altruistically – but humans that decide to jointly detonate, and with no harm done, that’s rare: Kobe’s own o'summer vacation are unique (and volatile) like that, and they’re back to light the fuse for the second time, presenting 13 more musical quarter sticks that have already blown up venues in Europe and Japan.

“Keep it lean, keep it mean,” they say, and that’s what this band loves to take to the extreme: breakneck concision and collective combustion meet freeform noise punk hazards on o'summer vacation's second (not quite) full-length – as the Kobe-based three-piece’s “Electronic Eye” is set to arrive on October 11, 2024. Following a bunch of trips to Berlin, Munich etc., the Japanese fire starters have found a new home with Alien Transistor, and it’s the perfect launch pad for their latest set of guitarless pyrotechnics. Going right for max q (maximum dynamic pressure), “Electronic Eye” is (unlike those Starships) actually supposed to explode right after lift-off ;)

Even though there have been some line-up changes since the group recorded its sophomore album, the energy caught by producer Shinji Masuko (DMBQ, Boredoms) is still unmatched: a very physical and hard-knocking barrage of mosh-inducing madness that leaves you speechless + inevitably twitching towards the pit. Mastering was done by Masaki Oshima aka Watchman (Melt-Banana).

Opening with sizzling hi-hats and heavy ripples of breathless bass, singer Ami presents a non-sequitur kind of lullaby over the math rock-style interlocutions of “宿痾 (Shuku - A)” – which at 6+ minutes makes up more than a quarter of the album. A shapeshifting frenzy of voice (Ami), unbridled, pedal-powered bassline insanity (Mikkki, formerly Mikiiiii), and hot-blooded drums (Manu, meanwhile replaced by Karry), the album features mosh-inducing blows (previously released “Luna,” “Anti Christ 大体 Super Star”), 30-sec mini noise punk anthems (“竦(shou)”, “Days Go By Fast”), and continues to surf at breakneck pace up and down scales (“@ The”), which often feels like catharsis served with a hammer (“Ultra”). Whereas some tracks are bigger more song-y than others (“Song#2,” that full-throttle “Poodle”), “Vs I” is on time like Tierra Whack (exactly 60 seconds of pick-grinding action), and “Rage” indeed feels like Zack is about to join the party – only to see Ami wipe the floor with pure onomatopoetic fire. Finally, “Aloooooone” and “Humming” (that opening lilt!) are sure going to be live favorites, shifting up and down via hardcore speeds and various break-downs.

Quite hotheaded and terminating things on a high note, o'summer vacation point out that the quick-fire lyrics of their “songs have no meaning. It’s called onomatopoeia in English. Ami, our vocalist, does not like to communicate her thoughts through her music.” Although she considers her contribution “a part of the instrumentation,” they still have strong messages and concerns (unrest, discontent, willingness to shake, wake up, enliven anyone near the audible bomb crater): “That doesn’t mean we don’t have a point of view, but we choose to express ourselves through sound rather than words. Generally, but not exclusively, we are anti-racism, anti-war, gender-free, angry at the companies we work for and their bosses, etc., which are very common sentiments held by so-called rock bands.”

It’s only three ingredients, just like sonic gunpowder: bass, drums, voice – but they tend to explode a few bars into each new track. In a perfect world, there’d be giant colorful clouds of dust gracing the sky over each venue they descend upon.

The year 1996 saw the release of Arab Strap’s first single, “The First Big Weekend,” and debut album The Week Never Starts Round Here. Into an underground rock milieu preoccupied at the time with slo-core, math rock, and all things Pet Sounds, the duo of Malcolm Middleton and Aidan Moffat couldn’t have sounded more alien.

In many ways, The Week Never Starts Round Here bears all the marks of a debut: it’s raw, unguarded, and crammed with ideas. It also firmly establishes the particular set-up that would define Arab Strap’s sound over the course of eleven years, with Middleton handling the music while Moffat provides the vocals and lyrics. Even this division of labor—more common to rap music than to the shoegazers and increasingly ubiquitous “collectives” of indie rock—seemed to defy expectations.

The sound of Arab Strap is a distinct brand of existential miserablism. Middleton’s cleverly arranged foundation of nocturnal guitars and rudimentary drum machines provides a canvas for Moffat to relay, in a thick Scottish dialect, his many sloshed, candid confessions. Long before artists like Mike Skinner chronicled the picaresque days of lads getting pissed and getting laid, Arab Strap’s vivid tales of lovers, lager and shame were being broadcast on college stations everywhere.

The Week Never Starts Round Here is an album full of drugged-up kisses and dried up egos; it chronicles the conquests and knockbacks of weekends that last forever, and it does so unapologetically, poetically, and profanely. Indie rock would never be the same.

After releasing my album 'ÖÐRUVÍSI,' which was a very personal and emotionally challenging project, I felt the need to make something weird and energetic for the club. I’m really into tunes that feel both slow and fast simultaneously.

The first track on the EP, 'Let’s be Havin u,' was initially hard to place genre-wise, i ended up sending it to Darren, who loved it and wanted to sign it. Releasing on Exit kinda feels like earning a black belt as a producer hah. I never imagined that a decade after buying Exit 12”s in 2014, I’d be releasing my own music on the label.

When I started making the EP, I had just begun performing again. I often saw people on the dance floor, too out of it to enjoy the music and often some of them having to be carried by their friends to backstage. This made me wanna make tunes for the dance floor as a bit of a statement on this. I first tested 'Let’s be Havin u' at Prikið in Reykjavik, sounded mad on the little old funktion one. The moment I knew that I was onto something with the EP was when I was Performing in Bristol at Thekla for my friend Boofy. It was wild, the ceiling started leaking during the show. I Love Bristol, feels like home to me.

Most of the percussion and hats on the EP are made with an Elektron Model Cycles, and the synths and pads are from a 80s Yamaha hybrid FM/sample synth I found at a thrift store. It doesn’t have MIDI, so I have to record perfect takes for chords and melodies. I often use pedals afterwards or resample the sounds for more tonal control.

I enjoy digging for records with unique breaks to sample, as I feel this is lacking nowadays. I usually make all my drums from scratch but when I use breaks I like it to be something I haven’t heard before. The alien percussion sound in the last track is actually me biting my teeth together, resampled repeatedly and ran through pedals and interfaces. I also recorded myself chewing gum for the second track to give it that hand on the hip feel. Most of the EP is made with hardware, outboard gear, or real-life recordings.

I’m not concerned about the EP fitting a specific genre or playlist. Too many artists play it safe by focusing on their Spotify stats and abandoning projects that don’t work instantly. I think also Obsessive nostalgia stifles innovation, keeping things stuck in a loop by replicating to the tee, tunes from 2 decades ago. I get it, but there has to be a middle ground sometimes.

Pleasure Planet’s kaleidoscopic debut album has been a long time coming, but good things come to those who wait. Developed over years of late-night studio improvisations, ‘Pleasure Planet’ is an affectionate and colorful patchwork of the New York City-based trio’s knotted influences that’s suspended between the rave and the chill-out room, weaving glistening pads and chunky basslines into vocal earworms and warm, saturated rhythmic cycles. Bandmates Andrew Potter, Kim Ann Foxman and Brian Hersey enter into a lysergic dialog with their discrete personal musical histories, drawing inspiration from vintage EBM, ambient music and heady early ’90s West Coast rave sounds and launching these classic elements into a transcendent new sonic universe.

Celebrated DJ and producer Foxman was a lead singer of Hercules and Love Affair when she first ran into DC rave veteran Potter, and the two rapidly realized their musical interests overlapped. So when Potter was recording with his studiomate Hersey, a NYC underground club scene mainstay, and they needed to bring in a vocalist, the choice was simple. Working together was a refreshing, freeing experience for the three seasoned artists, and the more they experimented, the closer they became; Foxman ended up moving into the studio, and Pleasure Planet was manifested into existence. “We’re like family,” says Potter. “We’re always on the same page – we couldn’t make this music solo.”

For Foxman, the open-ended jam sessions provided her with a chance to try something new, a few steps from the dancefloor-forward DJ tracks she’s best known for producing. And as the trio pooled their adolescent rave memories, reflecting on them with more mature ears, they began to develop the signature sound that was first heard on the Throne Of Blood-released ‘Animals’ 12″. Pleasure Planet aren’t trying to re-capture the past, but suggest a poetic contemplation that layers their recollections and musical obsessions into a hypnotic sci-fi dream. Harnessing a self-described “Aladdin’s cave” of analog and digital gear that help galvanize the timeline, they bridge the gap between avant-pop and icy bleep techno, curving suggestive words through lattices of tightly-engineered electronics.

On ‘Endless’, Foxman’s voice is echoed into a glistening haze that hovers around ethereal pads and tense, electroid pulses. Slow-moving and evocative, it’s a track that capture the open endedness of post-rave euphoria, touching the afterparty but moving far beyond the material world. She’s more recognizable on ‘Alien’, the album’s most upfront track, singing in a glassy, upper-register coo over urgent bass bumps, taut guitars and florid electronic atmospheres. “Are you an alien, or are you an angel?” she asks, fractalizing the borders between genres. And the band’s sense of cosmic togetherness bubbles to the surface on ‘Saved by the Bells’, a meditative after-hours experiment that diminishes the pulsing beats for a moment to bring out a spectrum of interconnected, serpentine melodies.

Modular bleeps and echoing percussion anchor the swooning ‘Planet Love’, one of Pleasure Planet’s most recent compositions and one of the album’s most outwardly psychedelic cuts, while the urgent and anthemic ‘Go With Madness’ steps back towards the main stage, evaporating Foxman’s memorable calls into a thumping procession of analog drums and squelchy, acidic bass tweaks. But they save the best for last, tugging at the heartstrings with ‘Remember (In Dreams)’, a giddy spiral of blipping synth arpeggios and haunting, reverberated chorals. It’s the perfect way to conclude an album that cryptically gestures towards the vulnerability of friendship, celebrating the shared experiences that result in some of the most meaningful memories of all.

Lenticular Sleeve / White Vinyl. When Jack Tatum began work on Life of Pause, his third full-length to date, he had lofty ambitions: Don't just write another album; create another world. One with enough detail and texture and dimension that a listener could step inside, explore, and inhabit it as they see fit. "I desperately wanted for this to be the kind of record that would displace me," he says. "I'm terrified by the idea of being any one thing, or being of any one genre. And whether or not I accomplish that, I know that my only hope of getting there is to constantly reinvent. That reinvention doesn't need to be drastic, but every new record has to have its own identity, and it has to have a separate set of goals from what came before." What came before: a rightfully acclaimed, much beloved display of singular pop craftsmanship. Tatum's dreamy, unexpected 2010 debut, Gemini, was written while he was still a student at Virginia Tech University. Its equally disarming follow-up, 2012's Nocturne, marked the first time he'd been able to bring his bedroom recordings into a studio, to be performed and fully realized with the help of other musicians. There has been a set of wonderfully expansive EPs in between_each hinting at new directions and punctuating previous ideas_but with Life of Pause, Tatum delivers what he describes as his most "honest" and "mature" work yet, an exquisitely arranged and beautifully recorded collection of songs that marry the immediate with the indefinable. "I allowed myself to go down every route I could imagine even if it ended up not working for me," he says. "I owe it to myself to take as many risks as possible. Songs are songs and you have to allow yourself to be open to everything." After a prolonged period of writing and experimentation, recording took place over several weeks in both Los Angeles and Stockholm, with producer Thom Monahan (Devendra Banhart, Beachwood Sparks) helping Tatum in his search for a more natural and organically textured sound. In Sweden, in a studio once owned by ABBA, they enlisted Peter, Bjorn and John drummer John Ericsson and fellow Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra veteran Pelle Jacobsson, to contribute drums and marimba. In California, at Monahan's home, Tatum collaborated with Medicine guitarist Brad Laner and a crew of saxophonists. From the hypnotic polyrhythms of "Reichpop" to the sugary howl of "Japanese Alice" to the hallucinogenic R&B of "A Woman's Wisdom," the result is a complete, fully immersive listening environment. "I just kept things really simple, writing as ideas came to me," he says. "There's definitely a different kind of `self' in the picture this time around. There's no real love lost, it's much more a record of coming to terms and defining what it is that you have_your place, your relationships. I view every record as an opportunity to write better songs. At the end of the day it still sounds like me, just new."

"Ring ring! AGITPROP HOTLINE!!, this is Goblin Daycare speaking from Istanbul, Turkey. How may we radicalize you?

Up-and-coming egg punk rascals Goblin Daycare’s long-awaited second release is here and it’s ready to overload your brain with its lo-fi alien soundwaves. Self-recorded and produced by Mama Goblin, AGITPROP HOTLINE!! is the perfect follow-up to their critically acclaimed debut Q: EP? A: EP!!.

But this time around, everything is turned up to 11 and somehow, even more over the top.

Supercharged guitars, over programmed drum machines, earworm synth melodies, growly basslines, shrieking vocals, stupid-yet-fun samples… Made up of 10 short-but-not-so-sweet bursts of unadulterated lunacy, this album clocks in at a whopping 15 minutes. Like all good things, it ends in the blink of an eye. So don't blink. Instead, dial in and let AGITPROP HOTLINE!! mesmerize you.

Jacken Elswyth is a London-based folk musician, banjo player, and instrument builder. At Fargrounds is her third solo album, her first for the Wrong Speed label and the latest in a rich catalogue that repositions the spectral, vulnerable sound of the banjo away from its familiar role as signifier of the past and onto lands brave, new and unexplored. “The living wood is imbued with qualities that require engagement and understanding. Working with cherry, oak or walnut involves naming it an equal partner. The parallel, synchronous transformations of wood into instrument, of growing tree into resonating sound, musical tradition into musical flourishing, lie at the heart of Jacken Elswyth’s practices both as an instrument builder and as a creative musician. One might consider her primarily as a worker in wood, but whose craft and fields of expression are absorbed by those transitional and interim processes that manifest change. The traditional tunes included here have been cultivated and maintained by generations of players and collectors, pruned, grafted, and shaped over time. However, in this setting, their long-established forms seem to morph and shift. They audibly accrue unique qualities, blossoming and swelling into new modes of being, bright-stepping arrangements unfolding with a liveliness hinting at practices of ritual and community. Meanwhile, other pieces, creative cornerstones of this collection, appear fluid, partially formed. They suggest not the cultivation of new growth from established stock, but instead the actions of something on the verge of taking form. Working with raw elements of melodic and tonal abstraction, they illuminate the process of emergence and evolution. In this context, the title At Fargrounds is telling. It suggests a point set at some distance from any centre of human concerns, a liminal space in which the cultivated world encounters the world of other living things in their living state. Here, the innate strangeness of the maintained environment–vast lawns, sculpted hedges, vacant playing fields–encounters sprawling vistas of driftwood, dense thickets of brambles, stony hillsides. Across a full century-and-a-quarter, long-standing rural and pastoral musical traditions, at some distance from their origins, have been preserved, nurtured and re-shaped under the folk revival. Placed here, these artefacts now sit in alignment with unvarnished documents featuring the raw elements of sound-making. Their working-together is achieved through a universally-applied interest in musical growth and development. The juxtaposition and combination of these elements gives evidence of new, emerging approaches to community and social music: familiar, known, yet charged with an alien vitality”–CWK Joynes. “...she knows how to knit atmospheres, and does so to especially powerful effect during Scene 4b’s three minutes of stunning bowed banjo, yearning with longing and dread, while showing off her talent, curiosity and range”–Jude Rogers review of Six Static Scenes (Guardian Folk Album Of The Month July 2022) "Jacken is an emotive player with high technical ability. Further, she builds banjos and other instruments, and that intimate knowledge of the bones and fibres holding everything together means that her playing has very few cracks" - Foxy Digitalis

A home, a house, has countless frequencies. Each room, each corner feels different. Swings differently. And as you grow older, you realize which corner is yours. But yeah, it takes time…

It certainly marks the end of an era when the house one called home as a kid no longer exists. This home, it was the starting point of so many journeys. Of one big, ongoing journey. And so it feels good, soothing, reassuring to at least return to a spot nearby – to that (proverbial) hill from where you can see it. Feel the vibe that made you.

Andi Haberl’s debut solo album as Sun is sort of dedicated to that house. It’s a journey leading to that hill overlooking everything that made him. It’s not about nostalgia, not about actually returning to a specific place. Instead, it’s about finding a personal frequency, an overlapping of sounds and samples, an open space that mirrors and extends whatever frequencies felt right at different points in time.

“To me, the results feel like Gold Panda/Four Tet meets Steve Reich meets Krautrock meets film scores. I just really wanted to create moods that touch me – and ideally others, too.”

Talking about his first solo album, Haberl recalls many stages: early compositions that ended up on Alien Ensemble’s albums, early DIY/home studio/multi-instrumentalist inspirations (Le Millipede), new technologies that came and went, even a set of wildly convincing arrangements (done with Cico Beck’s crucial input) that ultimately became stepping stones for yet another round of DIY takes. “It was a long, recurring process, and the songs went through so many different versions,” he says, talking about phases of growth (“I added more and more equipment over time”) and pruning, “cleaning up my music a bit.” Tending towards instruments that open up space, and slowly falling in love with sampling, he certainly didn’t rush things once it was time for interior design decisions ;)

“During this whole process I got to learn so much about my own taste, how I prefer to listen to the pieces, which musical elements really matter to me… and what my own voice is. For example, that acoustic elements are most important to me: the banjo, piano, drums, my voice, glockenspiel, trumpet, melodica. Anything that opens up some space.”

Every journey begins with a search: “Missing” with its plucked chords opens like a sunrise over pastoral plains, gently leading the way towards the intricate, playful explosion that occurs once a certain amount of energy (“Sun”) hits dirt and other surfaces: things grow, clot and curdle into new shapes, like new buds; layers of sound move forward, drenched in Spring’s new light. Relying on samples to ask for precipitation (“Rain On Me”), robotic “Low” goes from barren to bass-heavy after its midway shift in pace, full of loops plucked from the shade.

Towards the album’s midpoint, things are suddenly reversed: “Cluster” has that backwards pull, you can’t tell what’s what, yet everything is perfectly locked in, as the pace increases once again. And before the title song shimmers with densified cheering (to eventually stand tall like early Lymbyc Systym), “Beside Me” swipes you off your feet with its booming bass drum. The beat returns once again (“Daydream”), full of searching voices underneath, and at “Dawnday,” we can finally catch a melancholy view of the house. Voices hum. It’s the score moment of the album. Everything makes sense now. A happy end of sorts?

“I want to take people on a journey. A personal journey, too, because when my parents split up and sold the house I grew up in, I felt a bit like the ground had fallen out from under my feet. But I have dedicated the album title and the accompanying piece to this house… so I can keep it in good memory.”

“I Can See Our House From Here” has been a long time coming. It’s been a long journey. Homeward-bound. Leading to a place that’s really Haberl’s – his sound. His frequencies.

Known as a long-time member of The Notwist and various other bands/projects (Alien Ensemble, AMEO, jersey, Ditty etc.), Berlin-based drummer/composer Andi Haberl has also worked with My Brightest Diamond, Till Brönner, Owen Pallet, and Kurt Rosenwinkel, to name a few. “I Can See Our House From Here” is his first solo offering.

Following the release of Eric Chenaux's last album Say Laura (2022), The Guardian wrote "the Canadian songwriter has one of the all-time great singing voices in popular music, an intensely romantic Chet Baker-ish instrument that seems to float with piercing direction, like a paper aeroplane thrown hard through mist." With Uncut describing his songcraft "as delicate and lovely as a rare orchid" and Record Collector praising the album's "sublime alien balladry" such are the accolades that have accrued throughout Chenaux's unique and consummately uncompromising solo music for well over a decade now. Delights Of My Life opens a new chapter for the singer/guitarist and formally introduces the Eric Chenaux Trio, with Toronto-based musicians Ryan Driver on Wurlitzer organ and Phillipe Melanson on electronic percussion. Driver is a longtime collaborator, appearing on several of Chenaux's solo albums (even embedded into the very title of the 2010 masterpiece Warm Weather With Ryan Driver). Melanson has a long list of involvements that include Bernice, Joseph Shabason, and U.S Girls, and a recent release with his Impossible Burger project on Chenaux's own experimental label Rat-drifting, but this marks the first fulsome involvement between the two as players on a recording. In many ways Delights Of My Life also picks up right where Chenaux's previous album left off, in its subversions of a classic, timeless jazz-inflected balladry, while the interplay of the trio formation indeed unfurls many new delights. Recording together at Chenaux's spartan home studio in rural France, Driver's harmonically warped organ and Melanson's electroacoustic sampling and percussion hold time in newfound ways. Where previously Chenaux relied on a freeze/sustain pedal and minimalist rhythmic triggers to generate both pulse and chordal foundations, Melanson now paints timekeeping with expressive and intricate colourations, through live deployments of fluid sampled percussion (including orchestral timbres like timpani, kettle drums, and woodblock) that blur the boundaries between acoustic and electronic. Driver also ramps up his role in the song arrangements (prefigured in his support playing on Say Laura), teasing out chords and melodic filigree on Wurlitzer that percolate more prominently with Chenaux's signature fried guitar solos and succulent singing. Both trio members add dulcet backing vocals, most notably on the 10-minute tour-de-force of fuzzed and ring-modulated swing "This Ain't Life" that opens the record. All seven songs on the album groove and sway, simmer and sparkle, like nothing in the inestimable Chenaux discography to date. Chenaux's tunes have the uncanny ability to sound like jazz standards; songs you feel you've heard before, though certainly never quite like this. Yet these are of course all originals, compositionally and interpretively, bent through an inimitable avant/out-music lens. Delights Of My Life conveys warm familiarity, shot through with the exuberantly experimental subversion and playful, even mischievous, iconoclasm that continues to mark Chenaux as defiantly, virtuosically, and genially one-of-kind.

From a Decade Hiatus To A Musical Uppercut Like They Never Left Round 1, The Newest Ant Farm Installation Flexes Moments Of InTricate Metal All The Way To haunting acoustic ballads that might make Ray Lamontagne shiver and back again.

If you're an Alien Ant Farm fan true and true, you won't be disappointed, and if you're just a visitor from another planet, we hope you enjoyed your extra terrestrial visit

"Imagine: It’s sometime in the back half of the 19th century, America. You’re sitting in the parlor of your mansion, or in the only room of your shack; things are dusty and smell like sweat and hair, no matter how wealthy you may be. You don’t own a phonograph, and you don’t know who Tony Hawk is, but you have an inkling of how good the word 'shred' is going to feel when it enters the local slang. Suddenly, a tall, elegant figure with beautifully maintained fingernails emerges from some corner of the room, carrying a guitar. He says in a soft voice, 'I have a transmission for you, from the coming few centuries. Would you like to hear it? I figured you wouldn’t have a dongle, so I brought my guitar.' You may be apprehensive, but you shouldn’t be. Shane happens to be an internationally renowned virtuoso of the guitar. Specifically, he’s the kind of virtuoso who is as deep on style as he is on technique. His technical prowess is almost maddeningly complete; aiming paradoxically for the yards-long target called “breadth” he’s somehow hit all of it, 500 arrows piercing every pore of the landscape. He has that much technique not for the sake of guitar worship but to best bring the music forth clearly and in his own hand, like a pearl formed in a specific sea. I know this because I’ve sat next to him in multiple countries and American states and seen him deliver transmissions of that extreme honesty, with that extreme capability. Like Derek Bailey’s 'Ballads,' this record brings you into the room and the breath of a true musician whose mastery does not overshadow his appreciation of the music that inspired it. The title, 'Repertoire,' underscores the beautiful songs he chose to perform, all standards of 20th century musical excellence. The in-time persistence of his blues-walked 'Lonely Woman.' The grand registral descent he performs on 'Pithecanthropus Erectus,' like a rare document of the trip down from Everest. Dig how 'Better Get Hit in Your Soul,' emphasizes the folk blues water coursing through Mingus’s Ellingtonia, how Aphex Twin’s 'Avril 14' and the Minutemen’s 'Cohesion' sound so much older than Cage’s 'Totem Ancestors.' 'Repertoire' puts forth the idea that time is arrangement: time and arrangement are each only as successful as they are faithful to their origins and expansive in their style. Again, lest you fear the alien smoothness some associate with the concept 'virtuoso,' remember here we’re dealing with a time- traveler. His virtuosity is home grown, born of human work rather than some abstract or divine touch; the aim is not to go beyond the realm of human technical possibility but to expand it in the direction of human, meaning, timely. This guy can play anything, and for you, for this record, which sounds intimate and as present as a transmission from a time-traveler, he chooses to."—Wendy Eisenberg

With his debut EP Mo Wrights delivers a jazz-focused and narrative-driven record navigating the inner dialogue of a creative struggle of inferiority, abstraction and commitment. The story finds him enlisting some friends along the way to advance from one act to the other.

With the title track - ‘things2proof’ - Mo tries to combine his myriad of influences in a 6-minute record that weaves together elements of jazz, broken beat, acid jazz, fusion, hip-hop and hints of rock. The coherence comes from his poignant narrative, which resembles a four-act structure, telling the story of alienation and his internal experience of inferiority, creative frustration, and his eventual recognition of a solution, concluding by finally permitting himself to simply ‘be’. And for that we thank him!

The b-side ‘proof of concept’ follows the title track, Mo embraces a more laid-back approach, sitting sonically closer to his beloved broken beat sound. Amsterdam-based pianist Misto Kay delivers a long soul-felt piano solo that carries the track into untold dimensions of groove. With this offering the soul feels both heard and yearned for. It’s as if desire and satisfaction are in conversation with one another. You can’t help but be gripped, pay attention, and listen.

As a co-founder of the Amsterdam-based music platform Steppin’ Into Tomorrow, whose ethos is anchored in the principle of collaboration and unification of the Dutch scene is a deeply felt sentiment throughout Mo’s EP. He enlists a slew of emergent local legends, such as QUANZA, drummer Jamie Peet, flutist Han Litz, bass player kotokid and pianist Misto Kay to embellish and remix his creation. The remixes also illuminate other bright creatives the local scene has to offer, with remixes by the likes of - Kofi the Unknown, LYMA, Misto Kay and Jazz n Dance.

Amsterdam's Alex Ranzino joins Phoq U Phonogrammen, the 26-year-old sublabel of U-TRAX, with the 'Ride Da Perc' EP. The Utrecht-based imprint welcomes the fast-rising producer following stints on underground labels such as Revenge Techniques and Clone, coming in hot on the heels of its own recent Phoq U release featuring Detroit's Rebecca Goldberg. Alex Ranzino kicks things off with the title track of his 'Ride Da Perc' EP, rocking punchy 909s and spacious, undulating strings. The Advent shows a different side to the track in his remix, still alien-like in nature but demonstrating a sense of dark, mysterious hypnotism through incessant groove and deep pulsating synth work. On the flip side of the 'Ride Da Perc' EP, Ranzino drops 'Acid Groove', a track that proves the age-old fact that b-sides should never be ignored. It's got pumping 303s and ceaseless rhythm, marked by a subtle but masterful house touch. Next up, 'Alienated' rolls on as the perfect warehouse party starter before 'Machine Geweld' closes out the EP as a real late-night mind-melter, already in heavy rotation in Alex's sets at Dutch institutions like BRET, WAS, Intercell and De School.

Omit’s in/Sec is “new,” but not new. Recorded in 2013, the masters lost in the label’s murky somewheresville that always shows up when moving. For those who don’t know, Omit is an experimental electronics artist from New Zealand’s south island who, since 1990, has released thirty-some xerographed cassettes and CDrs in the Dead C orbit for those who do. It’s not enough to say that in/Sec is an ambient masterpiece bringing to mind a John Carpenter soundtrack performed by the Hub because listening to it engineers new species. The infectious and corrupting sounds synthesize new life forms in your brain's enzymes. If you specialize in a niche too much, you are prey to predators outside, but Omit never goes for low-hanging fruit and isn't simulating anything. I can vomit a better looking face than the ones on these little fuckers eating my brain right now. In this century that flatters itself to be of drinking age, it is a queer thing we haven’t come face to face with aliens. There is a time for everything and they're all intermixed. Besides the xenobiological effects, Omit constructs your sentiment through timbral concepts that repeat and shift with minimal reference to harmony, melody, key, or mode. Streams jump and skitter, knitting tightly high and low in a dense rattling driven to the long and most plaintive tones amongst the countless gizmos (that’s including you, but not “you”). This one is for big fans of Anode/Cathode, Ikue Mori, Papa Srapa, Fronte Violeta, and Insignia refrigerators.

Il Quadro di Troisi presents La Commedia
Everything changes, all things evolve: four years after their eponymous debut, Il Quadro di Troisi return with a new album and a new line-up.

The perfect circle traced by Eva Geist (aka Andrea Noce) and Donato Dozzy (aka Donato Scaramuzzi) becomes a triangle with the permanent addition of Pietro Micioni, who collaborated in the previous recordings and had been part of ll Quadro’s live set.
Nothing stays the same, and the world is a lot different from what it was in 2020. The global crisis generated by the constant escalation of conflict and by the pandemic was mirrored by a time of individual crisis and personal, often irreversible transformation that underscored the entire period of the album’s composition.
The influence of these turbulent times is felt in the writing: La Commedia is about turning a crisis into an opportunity and using change as a catalyst for rebirth. Much like the characters in classic Italian comedies, who are masters in using irony to face life’s hardships, Il Quadro di Troisi explores the vast and unpredictable terrain between the lighter and darker sides of the human experience, matching the magical with the mundane.

La Commedia is about the many facets of life: each song is named after an archetype (e.g. the truth, the night, the Earth, the prophet), as though our existence were a tarot deck and its reading an exercise in collective consciousness.

La Commedia marks the band’s embrace of a more traditional song form, shaped by a very personal and distinctive musical style. The distinguishing elements of Il Quadro di Troisi’s music – classic Italian songwriting with an electronic spin – meld into a unique mix that is both seductive and eerie, elegant and earthy, contemporary and timeless. La Commedia celebrates the band’s cultural roots while constantly moving into new territory, balancing nostalgia with a forward-thinking approach.

La Commedia is a rare gem that confirms Il Quadro di Troisi’s relevance in the international music scene, as demonstrated by the number of top-level artists featured on the album: from Suzanne Ciani, a legend and a pioneer of independent music with a career spanning five decades, to Aimee Portioli, aka Grand River, a Dutch-Italian musician, composer and sound designer based in Berlin, along with Francesca Colombo’s eclectic violin (the de facto “fourth angle” of Il Quadro di Troisi’s frame), Fiona Brice’s strings, cultural agitator and icon of the Roman underground scene Stefano Di Trapani (aka Demented Burrocacao and a member of Trapcoustic and System Hardware Abnormal, among other projects), Maestro Daniele Di Gregorio, an excellent musician and a longtime collaboration of songwriting legend Paolo Conte, and Tommaso Cappellato, whose professional description goes well beyond “drummer” and who has been working with artists like Rabih Beaini and Maurice Louca.
The cover of the album, as well as those of the singles, was designed by Francesco Messina, another icon of Italian music. Messina is a longtime Franco Battiato collaborator and co-author, a cult musician (his Prati Bagnati del Monte Analogo, made in collaboration with Roul Lovisoni, is considered a seminal record by the alternative Italian music scene), as well as a photographer, visual artist and the author of legendary record covers.

For Fans of Robyn, Tirzah, Charli XCX, Mica Levi, Jessy Lanza, Maurice Fulton. "Don't come closer, because I might hurt you boy / You don't deserve it, I treat you like a toy." So sings 28-year-old South East London musician Tatyana on "It's Over", the sad and squelchy electro-leaning title track to her second album. Primarily written and produced over the summer of `23, It's Over follows the loose trajectory of a not-quite-relationship from the year before. But, more than that, it's an album about modern dating, alienation and the confines of existing online. If you've heard Tatyana's name before, it's probably because she released a debut album back in 2022, Treat Me Right, co-produced with Metronomy's Joe Mount, a record she describes as more of a collaboration. For It's Over, Tatyana took control of every aspect of the album's creation, from the production (she co-produced it alongside Mikko Gordon) to the artwork and the technology she used throughout. "This record made me technically proficient because I really pushed myself," says Tatyana. "I figured out a lot of things that I didn't know before. In the past, I allowed others to lead the charge and I'm not doing that any more." Born in London, before moving to Russia, Holland and Singapore in her teens, before eventually studying music at Berklee College in the USA - which she attained on full scholarship - and then back to London, Tatyana imbues her music with both haywire technical proficiency and encyclopaedic, far-flung tastes. Mostly, though, her sound originates from a pure love of the dancefloor: Robyn, Tirzah, Mica Levi, Jessy Lanza, The Knife. You can hear these dance-pop influences everywhere, from the colourful synth shapes of "Control (ft. Dave Okumu)" to the crackling analogue hiss of "Nothing is True, Everything is Possible". Lean in a little closer, too, and you might catch the shimmer of a harp on every song (she's played harp since she was a little girl, and toured extensively as a professional session harpist). "I write about love, I write about romance, these are the things that interest me," says Tatyana. "That's what this record is. It's about this relationship that broke my brain and I had to write about it."