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Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

If every significant artist has an underrated gem in its catalog, then Mirage is that album for Fleetwood Mac. An obvious return to relative simplicity after the dramatic tension of Rumours and experimental ambitions of Tusk, the 1982 album finds the band re-grouping after a brief hiatus and again climbing to the top of the charts. Extremely well-crafted, well-produced, and well-performed, the double-platinum effort distills the group’s hallmark strengths into a filler-free set that never runs short of addictive pop hooks or daft accents.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, and housed in a Stoughton jacket, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents Mirage in reference sound for the first time. The efforts co-producers/engineers Ken Caillat and Richard Dashut went to capture the splintered albeit formidable band can be heard with stunning accuracy, range, depth, and detail.

Though Rumours understandably gets a permanent spot in the audiophile hall of fame, the smooth, clear, and dynamic sonics on Mirage confirm that the record that stood as Fleetwood Mac’s last effort for five years deserves a place in the same vaunted arena. The presence and imaging of Mick Fleetwood’s percussion alone on this reissue might have you wondering how this slice of soft-rock bliss has gone under-noticed for decades. Other prized aural aspects — separation, definition, impact, tonal balance — are also here in spades.

Like much surrounding Fleetwood Mac in the 1980s, arriving at Mirage was not easy. Caillat searched for studios located outside of Los Angeles on a mission to change up the vibe of the band’s prior recording sessions. Everyone settled on Le Chateau in France, where relations between some members remained icy — and cooperation with the producers strained. Battles with exhaustion, bitterness, and addiction further informed the proceedings at the 18th century complex in the French countryside, where even communal meals were allegedly eaten in silence.

Inevitably, the feelings that co-producer Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, Christine McVie, and company harbored — as well as the situations in which they found themselves — drifted into the songwriting. In its rapid ascent to rock-star royalty status, Fleetwood Mac drifted apart, embarked on solo pursuits, and found it was lonely at the top. Emptiness, the illusion of dreams, the longing for love, the want to escape to bygone times of innocence and happiness: Such themes inform a majority of the narratives. Even if the lyrics regularly take a back seat to easygoing arrangements that allow Mirage to come on like a refreshing breeze on a sunny summer afternoon.

Home to three Top 25 singles in the U.S. and having occupied the pole position of the Top 200 album charts for five weeks, Mirage rightfully resonated with the mainstream and attracted listeners on both sides of the pond. And how, via a smart blend of sugary melodies, warm harmonies, interlaced notes, nimble rhythms, taut structures, and passionate vocals. Not to mention the presence of what arguably remains Nicks’ signature song, the biographical “Gypsy,” a meditation on the loss of her close friend Robin Anderson that teems with majesty, mystery, and mysticism — and which gets an assist from Buckingham’s shaded tack piano and richly strummed guitar chords.

Its ranking as an all-time classic aside, that No. 12 hit has plenty of company when it comes to brilliant pop turns on Mirage. On the subject of Nicks, the raspy singer gets a little bit country on “That’s Alright.” Its clip-clopping pace and two-stepping progression complement subtle vocal swells that emerge during the final verse of a tune that is ostensibly about leaving but still conveys forgiveness and grace. And what would a Fleetwood Mac record be without Nicks drawing on the tools of the supernatural — cards, dreams, wolves, and the like — on the twirling “Straight Back.”

Despite the potency of Nicks’ primary contributions, Mirage seemingly unfolds as a tight competition between Buckingham and McVie — and one that ultimately ends in a draw. Buckingham’s salvos include the contagious “Can’t Go Back,” a yearning to time-travel back to the past that’s complete with hall-of-mirrors backing vocals; “Oh Diane,” out-of- left-field ear candy sweetened with hiccupped vocals and salt-and-pepper-shaken grooves; the chiming “Eyes of the World”; and “Empire State,” a delightfully fluttering track whose high-range vocals, lap harp notes, and ringing xylophones hint at the galaxies of sound that would erupt on Tango in the Night.

Then there’s McVie. As elegant, understated, and coolheaded as she’s ever been on record, she pours her heart out on cuts that revolve around her inevitable split with Beach Boy Dennis Wilson. In the process, she punctuates Mirage with a characteristic not always associated with catchy pop music: emotional weight, and the sense of dreaded acceptance in the face of dreams deferred.

“I wish you were here/Holding me tight,” McVie sings over a delicate melody on the album-closing piano ballad “Wish You Were Here.” Though they hoped otherwise, for the members Fleetwood Mac, distance and separation were always close at hand. Believing otherwise, inviting nostalgia, and pretending everything was fine only amounts to a mirage.

Although still very much a secret, Oakland, California's Justin Pinkerton has perfected and expanded his Futuropaco project to a stunning degree over the past seven years. The one-man band is deeply rooted in Pinkerton's masterful drumming, which builds on the legacy of 1960's and 1970's legends such as Tony Allen and Jaki Liebezeit. But he's an accomplished multi-instrumentalist as well, and the Futuropaco sound is a colourful fusion that sees him throw fuzz guitars, flutes, vintage synthesizers and Anatolian string instruments into the mix - seemingly without much effort. The second and final volume of the "Fortezza Di Vetro" series feels like a conclusion, the sound of an artist reaching his creative zenith. It's an experimental album, yet immediately seductive in its energy - channeling the vibey art-rock of Tortoise, Black Sabbath riffage and vintage Italian film music in equal measures. It's such a refined and esoteric blend, yet hits so directly. It's simply impossible not to crank the volume knob once this slab of vinyl is on the turntable, followed by immediate head nodding. Buy the ticket, take the ride. Justin Pinkerton is a vastly talented rhythmsmith, best known as a member of Californian stoners Golden Void. On this project he plays all the other instruments too so he can do what he blooming well feels. And it's not as if the drum solos go on for twenty minutes like those of John Bonham and his pale imitators. Nope. Into tracks that are both jam-packed and concise, Pinkerton has squeezed his love of vintage Italian library music, classic krautrock and heavy psych rock. At one point it suggests Grails have been performing super-speed cover versions of fusion-era Miles Davis with Adrian Younge on production. -The Quietus Futuropaco returns in a big way with Fortezza di Vetro, a buzzing, groove-heavy album that expands on what came before while staying true to the project's origins. Dizzying, fuzzed-out psych with just the right amount of melancholy for good measure. Justin Pinkerton and Futuropaco have done it again. Fantastico! -Complex Distractions

Founded by Robbie Redway and psychedelic researchers Mathieu Seynaeve and WaiFung Tsang, UK-based 'United Freedom Collective' has grown into a network of artists including Jordan Stephens, Falle Nioke, Eliza Shaddad, Labdi, William Rees and Facesoul. Originally conceived around psychedelic therapy sessions, online yoga and breathwork channels, the musical scope has expanded on each of the four EPs released on Maribou State's 'Dama Dama' label, and here continues with their debut on Multi Culti. This time Robbie takes the lead on production and sole vocal duties on all five tracks, presenting a range of influences and style. Lead single 'Between Memories' blends tropes of ecstatic dance with uplifting vocal piano house, somehow making flutes fit in with Detroit strings to epic, hands-in-the-air effect.' Title track ‘Bright Patterns’ bridges the gap between Jungle, Jai Paul, and Jamiroquai, a fusion of funky filtered disco-house and electroclash with side-chained pop vocal hooks. ’El Yo’ smooths things out, a dope, laid back groove with a measured reflection on psychedelic healing and the perils of spiritual bypassing. ‘Higher Drums’ warms things back up for the dancefloor with trumpet, afro-latin percussion, and flute flourishes. Finally, ‘Moonshine’ is a soaring, Amapiano-inflected post-desert-house ballad. Influenced, in their words, 'by birds, trees, Buddhism, yoga, headless way meditations, Jungian analysis, Zen Taoism, Chinese plant medicines, indigeneity, Amazonian and psychedelic cultures, icaros and world healing traditions,' the music is eclectic, ranging from afro-inspired jazz to Chinese folk, psych-rock to dub and dance music, an ambitious and inclusive range, collabs that extend well beyond the borders of western musical traditions. Their sound was described by Clash Magazine as an 'aural mosaic that glitters with colour and potential,' and while the sheen of the production and precision of the arrangements might seem a departure from Multi Culti's left-field endeavours, the psychedelic idealism and global connectivity make it a natural fit with the open-ended ethos of the label. Having already had radio support from KEXP, BBC6 Music (Laverne, Ravenscroft, Charles, Nemone, Letts), Jazz FM and Worldwide FM (Gilles Peterson), with a live show that sold out Dalston Curve Garde and The Waiting Room as well as supporting Maribou State for their recent comeback show at Islington Assembly Hall in London the collective's future is looking exceptionally bright.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Francesco Sotgiu has forged a unique and very swinging project of songs. With a quintet consisting of Luigi Bonafede on piano, Emanuele Cisi and Riccardo Luppi on woodwinds, Salvatore Maiore on bass, Francesco on drums, and with special guest Paolo Fresu on trumpet to cap off this heartfelt collection. There is also a nice diversity of groups within this larger collection. A nice trio piece called “Calm” featuring Paolo Birro sitting in with Marco Micheli and Francesco. And one called “Lotus Blossom” where Francesco shows his considerable skills and soul on violin. But the bulk of the material is straight-ahead jazz and is totally swinging and soulful, proving that jazz has no borders and is a worldwide language to which Francesco has added to that tradition with this project and all the great voices he has included here. Bravo maestro.

This is the comment of Gil Goldstein, American accordion player who won 5 Grammys and collaborated with giants such as Gil Evans, Wayne Shorter, and Michel Petrucciani.

This record was recorded in the middle of the pandemic times, and most of the work for preparing this record took place via the telephone: the selection of the songs on paper, the exchange of ideas on arrangements, staff and instruments, a sort of “phone rehearsal” of the structure of the songs, with the choice of a solo; everything else, everything that will happen in the recording sessions, is the result of a controlled improvisation, a jam session masterfully captured in the studio through the use of well-positioned ribbon microphones.

This is why “Passing,” literally “passing” or “crossing”: because the musicians have gone through listening to these songs as teenagers, and find themselves today, as a mature meeting of old friends who create an informal game made of nostalgic fun, great personality, confrontation, and deep spirituality. In the classic “Caravan” by Ellington and Tizol or “Afro Blue” by Mongo Santamaria, Coltrane toning, the Latin accent of the rhythm section supports the interpretation of the theme and the interplay in the solos between the soprano and tenor saxophones by Cisi & Luppi, and the piano by Bonafede.

A certain elegance in the execution distinguishes pieces such as Duke Ellington’s “Sound of Love,” yet another tribute by Mingus to the Duke, with a calibrated solo on the double bass of Maiore and the flute by Luppi, the immortal “Take Five” by Paul Desmond, with the highlighted soprano by Cisi, “Wishes,” “7th Street,” and the eponymous “Passing,” all pieces composed by Sotgiu, characterized by the precise medium/fast drive of the drums and a certain “cinematic” taste of the main themes.

In songs such as “Black Bats and Poles,” composed by trumpeter Jack Walrath for the Mingus Orchestra, and in “Stranatole,” an original piece in which Sotgiu writes a theme of Monk’s influence and enjoys overturning the traditional “Anatole Jazz” structure, the quintet opts for an effective hard bop language, with exciting moments of dazzling virtuosity in Bonafede’s solo. While in Coltrane’s “Wise One” and McCoy Tyner’s “Ballad for Aisha,” we enter a modal, mystical, and ceremonial jazz, of a cosmic depth, which seems to hover in the sweet volume of the great hall of the recording studio. These are truly magnificent interpretations.

A special separate mention for two classics such as “My Foolish Heart” by Victor Young, performed in trio by Sotgiu, Maiore, and the unmistakable trumpet by Paolo Fresu, and the (unfortunately very short) “Lotus Blossom” by Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington, which in the piano-violin duo of Birro and Sotgiu, in a minute gives a suspended momentary magic, sums up the roots of African-American jazz music, and also referencing an old-fashioned Italian musical sensitivity, typical of Nino Rota’s music for Federico Fellini’s films.

Cross Record's new album, Crush Me, is steeped in the pressures and wonders of existence—a profound statement, especially coming from artist and death doula Emily Cross. A two-and-a-half-year gestation period offered challenges, disappointments, and joys reflected in the cramped space of the album, which explores how we handle the weights we carry. Emily Cross had held hundreds of Living Funerals and was as many episodes deep into her podcast, What I’m Looking At. She was five years into serving clients as a death doula and fresh off a tour with Loma, her band with Jonathan Meiburg (Shearwater) and Dan Duszynski, when she began work on her fourth album. After moving from Austin, TX to Dorset, UK, she established the Steady Waves Center for Contemplation (named after a track from her second record, Wabi-Sabi ), where she hosted Living Funerals, met clients, scheduled mindful tea sessions, and showcased experimental music nights. All the while, she was scribbling down song ideas. Cross’s Tascam four-track demos finally reached readiness, and she sent them to an interested major independent label. She was encouraged to push her imagination to the limits of what a record could be. So, unlike her usual process of recording as inexpensively as possible, she prepared a two-week recording session in Germany with a group of skilled musicians from around the world. True to her previous work, Cross left plenty of room in her demos for experimentation, collaboration, chance, improvisation, and complete obliteration, then resurrection when necessary. Comfort and traditional structure were eschewed in favor of unaccountable magic, prayers whispered into The Void. Cross is comfortable with the chaotic and unpredictable, a perspective demanded by her work and writing style. The Berlin Airbnb was packed with people, instruments and luggage. During a ride down in a tiny elevator to the studio, Cross realized how central the sense of being crushed was to the album. “I thought of it later and it dawned on me that ‘Crush Me’ perfectly embodied the record,” says Cross. Yes, the weight of a body laying limply atop yours, or the tight squeeze of a hug, can be pleasant. Go too far, and you’re in the hands of a cruel, adolescent god. Upon leaving Germany, the record was unfinished, and without a roadmap. As passages were recorded as isolated parts, Cross and musician Marcin Sulewski collaborated, facing a haphazard brick pile, waiting to be assembled. Work dipped in and out of view like a buoy bobbing in a violent sea over many months. During that time, the aforementioned interested label went radio silent, suddenly not seeming so sure of a thing. Collaborators disappeared, continuing the themes of abandonment, surrender, and disarray that followed the project. Cross physically felt her entire body go numb: In a twist of fate, the record was rescued by long-time friend and supporter Ben Goldberg at Ba Da Bing Records who was eager to help realize the project. Cross worked for months on the album, all the while nursing a pregnancy and continuing her full-time funeral work. The last minute participation of Seth Manchester of Machines with Magnets, who mixed and mastered, was an essential liferaft. He gave true final form to the abstracted songs. Crush Me has the effect of a spell being cast, with songs balancing heaviness and levity. Vocals, guitars, and keyboards float above, as drums and upright bass (often bowed) lurch beneath. On “Rolling Backwards” percussion wanders about while feedback squeals and persists in the distance. “Dorset Area Of Natural Beauty” starts with a thick, unhinged church organ progression punctuated by the disquieting sounds of laughter reaching the point of hysteria. “God Fax” is a slow-moving panic attack, with shallow breaths in and out framing a guttural cacophony like a wooden freighter encountering increasingly turbulent waters and vocals struck emotionless by autotune. The album ends with “Twisted Up Fence,” a reflection on life from outside the wall--wistful, warm, and comforting. Cross, likely with a smile on her face, sings: “You say it’s an endless abyss” “And I say the abyss is the best”

Who is Beatrice? Who is Melissa? Could they be one and the same?

This is the question at the heart of Secret, the duo’s debut album—or at least, that’s what the music seems to suggest. If sound is an extension of ourselves, it can also become a character we shape. The main character of Secret isn’t visible to the human eye, and yet they give off an androgynous and timeless energy, rooted in multiple languages and spaces. As the album unfolds, we sense the fusion of two distinct energies combined into a single, composite being. This constantly shifting, blurred identity comes to life in the album’s profusion of genres: club music, ambient, chanson, trip-hop, UK garage, and tech house. The tracks stretch and contract, following the trajectory of a dual voice.

Behind Secret lies a mélange of perspectives. Beatrice M., a Franco-British artist at the head of the label Bait, curates an innovative blend of syncopated UK club styles (mostly dubstep) and trancy techno grooves. Melissa Weikart, a French-American songwriter trained in classical piano with a deep passion for jazz, makes intimate avant-pop songs that embody her unique, hybrid approach to music-making. The diverse musical collaborations in Secret reinforce a dynamic that is central to both of their artistic journeys from the start, and these collaborations melt seamlessly into the album’s overall aesthetic. Despite a confluence of influences, the implied development of this obscure, extraterrestrial main character grounds us in a refreshing coherence. Secret is rich in variety and style, but above all, it diffuses a calm and serene atmosphere. Even when the BPM speeds up, we are carried along, suspended in Beatrice Melissa’s uncanny world.

These two vinyl records showcase the legacy left by the boogaloo movement in Peru between 1966 and 1975. They comprise twenty-two songs by seventeen artists who recorded on the remarkable local label MAG more than five decades ago and now invite today’s new generations to dance body and soul to these re-releases. You will find outstanding tracks by the likes of Tito Chicoma, Melcochita, Los Kintos, Otto Rojas, Coco Lagos among many others. MAG was one of the most important and prolific labels in Peru and, though it also was involved in releasing a lot of other types of music, its specialty was the tropical variety, which coincidentally, DJs and collectors seem to crave most. Peru developed a major boogaloo scene in the mid-60s, far from the genre’s place of origin, New York, where iconic songs like 'Bang Bang' and 'El Pito', fused soul and funk with Latin sounds, conquering dance halls and winning extensive radio airplay. The music trend soon spread to Caribbean countries and from there made the geographical leap to the city of Lima. 'El Pito', the collective creation of the Joe Cuba Sextet, was particularly popular. Shorn of overelaborate arrangements, the improvisation and spontaneity of the song resonated with the young generation who were avid for new music after the U.S. placed an embargo on the distribution of Cuban music. In July 1966, Rebeca Llave´s label, Disperú, released the 45 RPM of 'El Pito' (and Joe Cuba's LP), promoting the single in the most prestigious newspaper in the country: El Comercio. The press information stated that the record had sold seventy thousand copies in New York and fifty thousand in Los Angeles. That same year local dance versions by the bands of Alfredo Linares (MAG) and Lucho Macedo (El Virrey) were released, followed by another by the band of the Argentinean musician Enrique Lynch who was based in Peru (Sono Radio). These records were a hit with a new generation that embraced Lucho Macedo's band and the garage rock of Los York's with equal enthusiasm. Although Joe Bataan claimed that boogaloo was killed off at the end of the sixties by the labels and their veteran musicians (who conspired against the new generation of singers), Pete Rodriguez, Richie Ray and the Lebrón Brothers continued to release boogaloo records in Peru, but salsa music soon took over.

When it comes to musical discovery, sometimes the stars just align. DJ and record collector, Steve KIW, put Mr Bongo onto this amazing Chilean cover version of Jamie Principle & Frankie Knuckles' all-time classic 'Your Love'. Despite being originally released 13 years ago, it had recently started to prick the ears of house and Balearic connoisseurs in the UK, further cemented by inclusions in the Idjut Boys epic sets. Steve heard them play it, tipped us off and it soon became a favourite at Mr Bongo HQ.



By pure chance when the Mr Bongo DJs joined Luke Una to play at La Paloma ballroom in Barcelona a few weeks later, Luke dropped this incredible interpretation at the peak of his set. A good friend of his, Michelle from Huddersfield, had also put him onto the track and he instantly fell in love. A serendipitous coming together, 'Tu Amor' seemed like the perfect next instalment in the E Soul Cultura discography. The version in question was released in 2012 as part of a digital-only EP.



It came courtesy of the Chilean DJ, producer and singer Mamacita (Carolina Vallejos) and producer Sebastian Roman, aka Persona RS. Meeting Sebastian while out partying in Santiago during a boom time for electronic music in Chile, their shared passion for making house music in Spanish and their admiration for Frankie Knuckles led to the creation of this raw and unique cover version. Recorded on lo-fi equipment, including an old Windows laptop and a borrowed Neumann microphone, it nods to the DIY ethos of the early Chicago productions. The result is a stripped-back, quirky cosmic take on a stone-cold classic, full of squelching synthlines and Carolina's stunning Spanish vocals, that became a club hit on Chile's underground circuit. However, aside from some Latin American and US DJs picking it up, it never got the international recognition it deserved.



Fast forward to 2025, and E Soul Cultura is proud to present the glorious 'Tu Amor' on vinyl for the first time, backed with a new, extended, club re-edit by E Soul Cultura captain Luke Una and Luke Solomon (Classic Music). On first hearing 'Tu Amor' Luke Una recalls, There was a real charm to it, it was quite an unorthodox arrangement, a huge wonkiness and just sounded so DIY in a brilliant way. I was chatting to Luke (Solomon) about how much we loved it and we decided to re-edit it together. Accentuating the wonk of those crazy synths, we've extended it to make a fiercer underground club tool, without taking away that very charming cosmic feel.

I wrote The Shit Punx Hate for Realicide in 2005. This version was made for Decide Today around a decade later, maybe 2015? It was about the pathetic narrow-minded dogmas that were common in Cincinnati punk, being discriminated against when our approach defied dominant aesthetic criteria, chronically misunderstood and rejected without consideration.

This experience in my formative years led to a long path of thought as I entered adulthood. Those feelings of being "other"ed, treated poorly based on who I was, started to seem less significant compared to the prejudices I saw friends faced with. Targets of bigotry due not to a subcultural choice, but aspects of themselves they were born into. Of course I mean things like race, gender, class, abilities. If being dissed by punk rockers sucked for me, imagine what it must feel like being the only black kid in a social circle that can't even recognize its own racism, the only woman in places misogyny is the celebrated standard, having a non-white family at risk of deportation, growing up "male" or "female" when you've always known they are wrong about you, etc. This was my mental gateway into prioritizing these struggles, wanting to become an ally, then even more so an accomplice.

Revolutionary Reason was written in 2018 during my time working with Mass Action for Black Liberation, and revised abruptly this year while recording for this record, as it was inconceivable not to address the epitome of merciless colonial atrocity orchestrated by the state of Israel. While I write this, the IOF is massacring families in the West Bank. The death toll in Palestine is currently estimated at around 41,000 and it hasn't even been a year since this modern Nakba began. I hope these songs help make apparent that whatever you said you "would do" during Jim Crow America, Nazi Germany, Apartheid South Africa, any archetypal history now synonymous with wrongness, yes I can confirm NOW IS THAT TIME to do it ...if you were for real about it that is.

Big respect to my Arab friends who are so patient while I learn the stuff my school conveniently omitted, to my Jewish friends tirelessly combating the violence of their ethnicity being shackled to a cult of Zionism, to native resistance across Turtle Island that articulates so well that this fight is also still/always very domestic, to contemporary hiphop telling today's stories while rock music often merely offers retro fashion, and of course to Kieren and Borg my homies in OZ.

All my love to intifada direct action everywhere dismantling the imposed global suicide pact that is white supremacist capitalism.

~ Robert Inhuman 28 August 2024

Red Motorbike maestro Eddie C drops on the ensemble with an anthemic ode to the most sought-after of desires. We’ve been keeping this secret for far too long; it’s time to bring U Be Mine into the light, complete with remixes from Lex, Da Silva and Marcello Giordani aka Italo Deviance.
It was just over a year ago when Eddie sent us his original demo of U Be Mine. I remember plugging i the speakers in my fat, pressing play. A fash from a place of love that wet, grey day. The lyrical bass, euphoric stabs, the iconic delay, the pining vox. There are times where things seem naturally bound, designed to intertwine. An instant essential. We couldn’t wait to throw it down in the disco. Much like the coveted desire of its vocoder-clad protaganist, we needed a club-ready fx. Eddie, getting the message, sent us over a quick master - the Eddie C ‘Cash’ Version. Over the next year, at parties from Lisbon to Ibiza, I saw how those swirling arps locked onto the foor, how dancers cosied up to its decadent groove. It was peak time, warm-up and wind-down at once. In the true spirit of the ensemble, we got to work curating a cast of balearic technicians to write their distinct shade of depth onto Eddie’s golden letter. And that’s where it lands.
Lex from Athens casts an exotic, eclectic spirit with his Plaka Remix, all shufing percussions and wild, breezy strings, rejigged baselines and NYC disco tackle. Label curator Da Silva ups the ante with his 7-minute club-ready fx: tight kicks and searing acid, all the bells and whistles for your peak-time excursions. Finally, Marcello Giordani shifts into hyperdrive with the ITALO DEVIANCE ACID CONTROL version, conjuring creatures of the night in kaleidoscopic confgurations, a trusted party roller for the most decadent dancefoors.
We’re releasing U Be Mine on 150 pristine discs only. Claim it as yours, forevermore.

Actual Earth Music - Volume 1 & 2’ presents two caustic, yet alluringly unreal live sets from Canadian noise-rock entropy hunters Earth Ball. Following on from the group’s critically appraised ‘It’s Yours’ LP (released 2024 on Upset The Rhythm - UTR164) this release captures the band at the peak of their powers, playing live, composing spontaneously.
Side A features Earth Ball live at The Fox Cabaret in Vancouver, supporting Wolf Eyes on August 4, 2023. Jeremy Van Wyck from the band considers this “the gig that sent us into orbit, really. Causing Olson & Young to wax poetic about our interstellar jams to a fine bloke across the big sea. Upsetting our casual rhythm and forcing our hand. All that talk led to an LP, ‘It’s Yours’, and a full UK tour the following spring”.
Now, with the birth of this live series ‘Actual Earth Music’, it seems only fitting that Volume 1 should be this gig. It’s a doozy. Listening back is a pure revelation. Earth Ball whip up a vortex of thrashing wild energy, the ecstatic release is off the charts. “You don’t always catch every nuance of the jams as they come down. I mean, this one felt good, but upon listening back to the tapes, it sounded very good” confides Jeremy. “It reminded me of Von Trier’s Melancholia: the sound of a large sphere coming toward you to bring doom. However, this one reverses course, heading away to some other shore, bathing you in reflective bliss before saying goodbye—instead of ending humanity as we know it”.
Volume 2 occupies Side B of this LP, showcasing a collaborative summit from the second night of their recent Café OTO residency on May 21, 2024. This event featured Earth Ball laying down three separate sets—all collaborations. This second recording presents their opening performance and features pivotal UK improv luminary Steve Beresford on piano and free-jazz phenomenon Chris Corsano on drums.
Running Time: 42 mins

“We all grew up playing heavy music. For me personally, listening to artists like Swans, Godflesh, Neurosis and Kiss It Goodbye in my 20s was cathartic in a lot of ways. Identifying with people that have a similar world perspective, who are channeling their angst and frustration into the creative outlet of art and music — that was important.”

Josh Graham isn’t just talking about his decades-long career in heavy music, which has included A Storm of Light, Battle of Mice, and many years as the one-man visual department for Neurosis. He’s also talking about the formation of Guiltless, his new band with bassist Sacha Dunable (Intronaut), drummer Billy Graves (Generation of Vipers) and guitarist Dan Hawkins (A Storm of Light).

Guiltless released their debut EP, Thorns, via Neurot Recordings in early 2024. Crushing and cheerless, it seemed to welcome the apocalypse looming on our collective horizon. “The EP had a pretty narrow focus starting from my ideas,” Graham explains. “With this record, my main goal was to really collaborate with Sacha and Dan and Billy because those guys are great songwriters. The new album is meant to open up the sonic palette and explore more territory.”

That new album is Teeth to Sky, the band’s first full-length. Even more pulverizing and focused than its predecessor, the album’s collaborative songwriting approach was paired with an adjustment to the lyrical content.

You can hear it on “One Is Two,” which channels a tightly controlled Meshuggah churn through the more visceral lo-fi approach of Kiss It Goodbye or Swedish noise rock legends Breach. On “In Starless Reign,” Guiltless blend dissonant black metal and thundering doom while Graham invokes humanity’s inability to see the forest through the trees. Then there’s the bruising title track, which combines the gnarled sensibilities of The Jesus Lizard, Cherubs and Barn Owl into a rumination on Mother Nature’s revenge.

Teeth To Sky was recorded remotely by the members of Guiltless—except for the drums, which were recorded by Travis Kammeyer (Generation of Vipers) at Fahrenheit Studios in Johnson City, Tennessee. The album was mixed by Kurt Ballou at God City in Salem, Massachusetts, and mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege in Portland, Oregon.

First things first - you don’t need me to tell you about the significance of Australia in the history of punk. I mean, what am I, Jon Savage? Google it yourself, FFS. Instead, let’s just agree that the speedy, feral racket thrown together by the likes of The Saints, Radio Birdman and The Scientists in the mid-late ‘70s is AT LEAST as deliriously entertaining as anything concocted by their UK/US counterparts, sowing the seeds for seemingly endless garage-inflected noisemakers in the land down under. No one likes using words like ‘tradition’ or ‘heritage’ here - the punk rock clusterbomb is far too messy for any of that business - but also emerging from Australian rock’s primordial soup is the addictive sneer of Stiff Richards. Like their predecessors, the band are a gleefully wracked mess of full throttle energy and barrelling power chords, with songs like ‘Kids Out On The Grass’ and ‘Point of You’ proving at least the equal of ‘(I’m) Stranded’ or ‘Aloha Steve And Danno’. Nine tracks in less than 30 minutes, all winners and all determined to leave you flipping over couches and smashing your TV set. And let’s face it, you may as well; there’s nothing good on. It all builds towards frantic closer ‘Fill In The Blanks’, which rattles around your speakers like the UK Subs trying to play Ed Kuepper riffs at the centre of an earthquake, before grinding to a halt as a voice says, “That’s the one.” Does it sound self-satisfied? Hey, it’s got good reason to - this is the best no-frills garage rock party since Gino & The Goons’ ‘Do The Get Around’, and the only appropriate response is to declare yourself betrothed to Stiff Richards because you can’t imagine your life without ‘em. Don’t believe me? Sort out your ears and get ‘State Of Mind’ in ‘em. Rock’n’roll as it’s supposed to be played.

After a near-total silence of twenty years, Edith Frost is back again, and in full bloom with In Space. Her first new record since 2005"s It"s a Game is just in time - the world needs Edith"s voice back in the conversation. And her ineffable way with a tune . . . It seems Edith needed something, too: from the notebooks of her long hiatus, a line like "I say too much/I wait too long/I wait forever/And notice that it"s gone" speaks volumes about feelings of lack. Overwhelmed by the demands of day-to-day living and the details and anxieties that always come, Edith squirreled herself away for as long as she could - only to find herself isolated, spun even farther into the doldrums. In Space isn"t simply a song-cum-album title so much as a very real exploration of the remote place she"d found herself, with her songs registering this recognition and measuring the vast distances between herself, the life that is and the life that was. It was the only way back in! Over the years away, Edith was immersed in music everyday, and spent lots of time learning - in addition to new lyric perspectives, her reinvention of herself as a keyboard player is one of the waves lifting the album In Space. The keys suggested different places within Edith"s harmonic palette; for us listening, this attenuation seems to create a deep focus on emotional life within the songs and a breathtakingly visceral presence in the performances. Her voice as well, in all its iterations, sounds quite fine and vital. The songs, as ever, are low-key brilliance elevated by the vitality of Edith"s voice. Mark Greenberg, alongside longtime Frost A&R man Rian Murphy, brought fresh arrangement ideas to complement the strange-new-world vibe of Edith"s songs. Recorded at The Loft in Chicago, with invaluable contributions from Jim Becker (Califone, Air Blue Gowns), Sima Cunningham (Finom, formerly OHMME), Bill MacKay and Jeff Ragsdale, In Space feels like the most Edith Frost record yet made, pulled from deep inside with great feeling, awash in harmonized voices and - more often than ever before - featuring her own playing. Alternatively approaching and avowing connection, Edith"s crafty songwriting orbits the human exchange with an increasing sense of possibility. It"s what the world needs the most of today.

Muireann Bradley is a young blues, ragtime, roots and folk guitarist and singer based in Ballybofey in County Donegal Ireland. “This is my first album. Most of these tunes were originally recorded by the great blues men and women who were making records from the 1920s and 1930s right up in some cases to the early 1970s. I have also found inspiration for the renditions recorded here in the playing of some of the musicians who began recording this music in the 1960s and later, and who in some cases learned at the feet of the greats. Many of these guitarists played pivotal roles in the 1960s blues revival and subsequent “rediscovery” of many of the greats of country blues. I grew up steeped in these old blues in the hills overlooking the valley of the River Finn just outside the town of Ballybofey in County Donegal. My father would play this music constantly at home and wherever we went in the car and talk about it endlessly whether anyone was listening or not, telling stories about the lives of these musicians as if they were legend, mythology or the evening news. My father could of course play all this stuff on guitar, I remember watching him when I was very young and thinking “I want to be able to do that”. When I was nine he agreed to teach me and bought me my first little travel guitar. I worked hard to learn how to play but as time wore on I seemed to have less and less time to practice as I became more and more invested in the combat sports I was regularly training and competing in. Then in March 2020 the first Covid lockdowns happened and all contact sports were shut down. I was lost for a while but soon found my way back to the guitar. I was now listening, playing and practicing with a new intensity and focus. In a very serious moment, I wrote out a list of tunes I was going to learn. The first tune on that list was Blind Blake’s “Police Dog Blues”. I’m not sure now how long it took to get that arrangement together but when it was ready we videoed me performing it and posted it on YouTube. It ended up getting a lot of attention, I remember my parents being quite shocked and soon after that Josh Rosenthal got in touch… and here we are! Each individual track on this album was recorded live in the studio and represents one entire take with me singing and backing myself up on guitar simultaneously. Most are either first or second takes. Nothing has been added or taken away, no overdubs or modern recording tricks of any kind have been used at all so at least in some respects this album has been recorded in the same way as those classics of the 1920s and 1930s

2022 Repress

Tapper Zukie's 'Black Man' album originally came out in 1978 as a Jamaican only release on Tapper's' Stars imprint. Long deleted it has become a classic in Mr Zukie's vast cannon of musical biscuits and is well overdue this worldwide release for the first time.
Tapper Zukie (b1956. David Sinclair, Kingston, Jamaica) was raised in the rough and tough West Kingston area of Jamaica, between the districts of Trench Town and Greenwich Farm. Living pretty much on the streets from an early age, the youths including the young Tapper had no choice but to fall into the hands of the Political Parties that controlled various ghetto areas of the town. Music seemed like the only way out of a life of crime and gang culture. A path that Tapper Zukie found by the mid 1970's was establishing himself as a named star on the DJ Roots circuit. Back home in Jamaica he was also getting a name for his production work for other local singers such as Prince Allah and the group Knowledge. To release these productions and his own material in Jamaica, Tapper started up his own label called Stars. It's this label that saw the initial release of this album 'Black Man'. A great collection of Tapper tunes such as his biblical cut 'My God Is Real', 'Revolution' and the tile track of this collection 'Black Man' and some work overs of some of his felloe Jamaican Artists like 'Poor Man Problem' a work over of Johnny Clarke's ' Blood Dunza' and also Mr Clarke's Leggo Violence'. 'Yaga Yaga' re working Horace Andy's and Tapper's big hit 'Natty Dread ah She Want'. 'Gather Them' a reworking of Knowledge's tune of the same name with the help from bands like Jah Wisdom and Delroy Fielding. A great collection of tunes and reworkings that we hope will find a wider audience with this release.
For the CD issue of this release we had added Tapper's 'Liberation Struggle', 'Get Ready', 'Prophesy' and 'Fire Bun' tracks from Tapper Zukie's back catalogue that seem to sit well and follow the theme and meanings of the 'Black Man' album.

Shards is a collection of pieces originally written for various film and TV soundtracks
Tim Hecker has scored over the last half decade.

These compositions were originally written for scoring projects including Infinity Pool, The North Water, Luzifer, and La Tour.

Press quotes for No Highs (2023):

"Tim Hecker has become one of the most pre-eminent and nuanced electronic producers of his
generation." New York Times

"Hecker pairs expansive and bright songs with more repetitive compositions, capturing the beauty in uneasiness and vice versa…” Resident Advisor

“It's somewhere between a replenishing bath and an out-of-body experience.” All Music

"The shapes it makes in the air are often wounding, but also graceful. And like all of his work, it is
devastating in the best way possible.” The Quietus

"The love of creation seems to be what drives him and that’s a special thing to be cherished.” New Noise Magazine

“To his credit, Hecker isn't just good at this stuff - he helped write the playbook.” Boomkat

After two pandemically conditioned ‘reaction’ albums - Yay! (2023) and Neigh!! (2024) - a few non-album singles and a compilation album, a downsized and sleek Motorpsycho is back where we all know and love them, with an epic, sprawling double album, filled to the brim with inventive, organic and ecstatic rock-based music. Rejoyce Psychonaut! This eponymously titled, 11 song work, has exactly as much variety & diversity, accord and discord, as one expects from a band that has released a few albums before, and that these days must be regarded as an institution in European rock. From concise 3min-something pop-rockers, to 20mins plus progressive epics, via acoustic intimacies and psychedelic wig-outs, this is concentrated Motorpsychosis: commenced Rebis, countdown initiated. Ever closer. Ever sharper... Since the traditional 3 or 4 piece rock band seems to be a dying breed these days, and MP always was a band in flux anyway, a new pragmatic era has begun in the Psychoverse. The band has, in what one might call alchemical terms, been ‘dissolved and purified’, and is by now again reduced to the core two founding members HMR & BS. This is nothing new, it has happened a few times before, but these days they are also the owners and creators of the record company NFGS, which is now the hub of all recorded band activity, and Motorpsycho marks the final severance of existing ties to other labels for the first time in 35 years. If ‘freedom is free of the need to be free’, this is it. Yikes! The minimalist title of the album is then not just easy to remember, it’s also a statement: a new era has begun in the Psychoverse, a state of affairs reflected in execution and details as well as title, if not perhaps, in ambition or size: “Senex psittacus negligit ferulam” *. This is a time of new beginnings for a band that has spent two years consolidating and reseting before charging ahead anew on a new path, trumpets blaring (...and trumpets don’t come much more blaring in the Psychoverse than with this grandiloquent hyperbole. Good fun! ). New day rising indeed. The core band was adroitly helped by a gaggle of greats from all over the Scandinavian musical landscape on these recordings: drummers Ingvald Vassbø and Olaf Olsen, string arranger/violinist Mari Persen, vocalist Thea Grant, and - as usual - honorary psycho, brother Reine Fiske, were all fellow travellers on this musical journey. Motorpsycho was co-produced by the band and Deathprod, and mixed by Andrew Scheps. Motorpsycho are not the best at what they do, they’re the only ones that do what they do. NFGS2025 *: “Senex psittacus negligit ferulam,” or “An old parrot doesn’t mind the stick.”

Italian composer and saxophonist Laura Agnusdei returns with “Flowers Are Blooming In Antarctica” a career defining record that sees the artist diving into uncharted waters, a profound timeless meditation on our relationship with planet Earth, the eco-conflicts arising and the fascination with non human forms of life, backdropped to a vivid soundtrack of coral exotica, spiritual Jazz, fourth-world minimalism, tropical electronics, tribal futurism and contemporary elegance.

Every step of Laura Agnusdei’s path, from electroacoustic experimentation to her constant research based upon the acoustic dimension of wind instruments and their interaction with polymorphic electronic sounds, seems to have pivoted into a new sense of awareness, as if the mind and intellectual practice has finally caught up with the body, the heart and the soul, resulting in her most organic and transcendent work yet. “Flowers Are Blooming In Antarctica” is loosely inspired around a trifecta of pioneering ideas that explore unconventional reality: James Bridle’s ‘Ways Of Being’ with his radical story that mixes ecology, tech and intelligence; Luigi Serafini’s late-70s fantastical ‘Codex Seraphinianus’, an unparalleled collection of flora, fauna, anatomies metamorphosed into new fragile beings; J.G. Ballard’s climate-fiction foreshadowing sci-fi ruminations. These influences shift Agnusdei’s musical trajectory injecting doses of terrestrial malaise, the earthy sub-saharan ‘Ittiolalia’ with its wah-wah filtered sax and trance inducing groove; the rubbery playfulness of ‘Oasi Bar’; the gentle eco-system of ‘P.P.R.N’ reminiscent of Herbie Hancock’s innovative synthesis of funk, space and synthesizers; the kaleidoscopic northern lights of ‘Emperor Penguin Lullaby’, where south-east Asian echoes reach icy shores; the Jon Hassell hyper-ambience of ‘Cuttlefish REM Phase’; the post-apocalyptic march of ‘The Drowned World, a jazz standard for an artificial civilization on the brink of self-destruction. Nothing feels out of place and it’s no coincidence that one of the most powerful messages on the record is delivered on centerpiece ‘Are We Dinos?’ via an interview conducted with two preschoolers. Radical optimism or sonic liberation?

Laura Agnusdei’s tenor sax cuts deep all across “Flowers Are Blooming In Antarctica”, a laser baton raised up to the clouds, a conductor orchestrating devotional soundscapes for a three-eyed dolphin, guiding us through prismatic pastures and acidic oceans. Her tropicalized realm is pin-pointed with Miles-like sheer clarity, a bristling nakedness on the verge of exploding at any time, creating an album where ascension becomes the unifying code.

Franco Rosso’s epic cinematic opus of reggae social commentary, Babylon, landed in November of 1980. Moving through the film’s opening frames of grey dreary London, two spars – Blue and Ronnie – run with unrestrained anticipation to link with their Ital Lion Sound System brethren. Simultaneously the rest of the crew does what sound crews have done from time: Load them boxes up in the van and trod with vigor to the dance.

But that bassline…The soundtrack notes that carry the celluloid movements of the film’s opening scenes…That bassline…Upside down…Jazzy…Dubby…A bassline like no other reggae bassline the Ital Counselor has ever heard. The hook that got me deep into UK roots music from the band that is my number one inspiration.

If there is bassline that represents the core imperative of Ital Counselor Records, it would have to be Aswad’s Hey Jah Children. It seemed therefore only fitting to bring its absolutely resplendent glory to a new generation. Lovers of sounds and blues, it is time for the dread ital lion sound to once again rise to meet the day. So it is with the deepest of gratitude and respect to the legacy of Aswad (RIP Drummie Zeb) and Franco Rosso, that we present a deeper than deep next cut…Christened here…the Ital Lion Serenade.

In line with all IC releases, we have enlisted top tier session musicians and studio men. Long time IC collaborator, Inyaki BDF, is at the center of the action as the musical maestro. Hopping on the BDF sonic lorry are Aratz Diez on Trombone and James Zugasti on the dub mixes. This crew bring the original composition up-to-date with a heady dubwise weight. Syndrums ricochet while Inyaki’s bassline rumbles teetering as it does somewhere between a modern dubstep warble and its core roots-wise influence in Tony Gad’s original playing.

Diez’s trombone playing comes across like an x-ray of the Aswad Horn Section and keeps intact the jazzy abstraction of the original. In turn, Inyaki goes full 70s synth on the psychedelic dubwise of the B-side’s Operation Swamp 81. UK history buffs better you know the reference in that title and its thematic echoing significance from the UK depicted in Rosso’s film and carried on in remembrance on this here hotter than hot 12”.

A warning: the Zugasti dub cuts are devasting to speaker boxes.

As soon as Martin Circus was born in 1969, the band laid foundations for the French "Pop Musique" genre, deliberately turning its back on both French yéyés and rock'n'roll to better embrace psychedelia and the French language. In 1971, they were a pioneering, innovative group moving as fast as a speeding train, building upon everything they found on the way. However, faced with band members changing often, management issues and music evolution, Martin Circus ended up trying to fit in every style: soul, R&B, glam rock, disco, new wave, 80s mainstream music. To follow their journey is to listen to the world shifting along music charts. Behind the scenes, since the very first days of the band, one man had been pulling all the strings. Manager and artistic director Gérard Hugé used to work for both the band and the label - this has never been good news. What he cared about the most was getting records out, no matter who played on them. In the mid-70s, he registered the Martin Circus name, granting himself full power over the band. Deciding that it no longer had either a lyricist or a composer, he made the remaining musicians embark on a series of American 60s hits adaptations. As a result, they made tons of money : "Marylène" was a huge hit and gave them a new impulse. The Martins adopted a new look by wearing shiny Courrèges-style suits and platform boots, and on stage they performed dance moves choreographed by the eccentric Amadeo. They completely fit into the disco craze which was about to take over. Still, their music blended doo-wop and rockabilly with glam rock and funk music. They eventually hit disco with a soundtrack in the mannerof French disco groups such as Space and Voyage. Effortlessly, they released the epic 14- minute "Disco Circus", a track which was to become a real underground gem. DJ and remixer François Kevorkian then released it on the American Prelude label in a self-edited version, shortened to 7 minutes while retaining all the dazzling passages of the original track. It came to be a hit in the clubs of New York and Chicago, making a lasting impression on everyone who heard it. It got sampled on at least 40 tracks over the following decades and featured in dozens of bootlegs and prestigious compilations - by Laurent Garnier, Carl Craig, Juan Atkins, Joey Negro, The Beatnuts, The Rapture, and by Danny Krivit in the DJ culture film Maestro. As the 80s arrived, Martin Circus once again changed the way they looked and their style. Inspired by Devo and their cold dance music, by Buggles' synthpop and Plastic Bertand's postpunk. Throughout their career full of ups and downs, Martin Circus nonetheless managed to keep up with one stable element: contrary to what they seemed, the musicians never took the easy way out. Their playing and arrangements were consistently flawless and polished, they relentlessly dedicated themselves to playing quality music and this can only compel admiration. As Coco Chanel once said, "Fashion goes out of fashion, style never does."

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

Miki Yui is a musician, artist, and composer, originally from Tokyo, who has been based in Düsseldorf since 1994. Her whose work has long explored multiple forms of media, while documenting liminal zones of perception. On her latest album, As If, Yui creates a subtly connected suite of electronic music, drawn from improvisations and randomised processes that she has engaged with modular synthesis. Deeply poetic in its expression, even at its most minimal, the six pieces on As If have a curious tenor – they are, each of them, intensely sensuous, almost haptic listening experiences, as though the laser focus that Yui displays towards her compositions allows her to engage them as almost physical presences in the world.

One of the keys that unlocks the intimate complexity-in-simplicity of As If was Yui’s encounters with the Amazonian rainforest in Manaus, Brazil in 2018. Finding that the sounds in the rainforest both shadowed and echoed the music she had been making for two decades, she embraced the possibilities of modular synthesis, the sounds of which she discovered “have astonishing similarities to the sounds I experienced in the rainforest.” There is, indeed, something natural about the way these sounds bloom in real time; in their dedicated focus to the subtle development and mutation of several discrete parameters of sound, they grow slowly, gradually, their rhizomic structures suggesting that we are always situated within the middle of sound.

Sometimes, the material here has a kind of febrile energy, as on the ticking, clacking electronics of “Generativ”, a track that seems to rotate in the air in front of the listener, the light reflecting off its multiple surfaces as we catch the intricacies of its micro-patterns. Elsewhere, we slide into a cooled but welcoming environment, like the late-night fire-fly horizon of “Song 4”; there’s also the humid, dripping tropical sunset that’s documented on “Summernight”. It’s a music that’s hard to locate external coordinates for, though there are, perhaps, some parallels with the work of Laurie Spiegel, Eliane Radigue’s Vice Versa, and Pauline Oliveros’s “Roots of the Moment”. But As If is an extraordinary collection of naturally developing, rich studies for slowly mutating, enveloping, elemental electronics.

Recorded in its entirety using just a laptop, a pair of headphones and a midi sampler, Indentations is the debut full length album from New York based percussionist and producer Grant Chapman.

Indentations draws deeply on Chapman's personal experiences surrounding loss and betrayal. An intimate work reflecting the struggle of dealing with traumatic experiences, the album makes the case for equilibrium following life-altering experiences.

‘’The album is a meditation on the sheer weight a broken relationship can have on two people. A personification of the stages of grief one feels when growing apart from someone they love, for reasons they can’t seem to reckon with or comprehend.’’

Working from his East Village apartment, Indentations is a rich amalgam of intricately layered found sounds, almost all of which were found on YouTube, taking in influences that range from ASMR to acapella choral performance.

The effect is dizzying in its depth and scope. Chapman has created a boundless emotional musical journey that can feel both deeply intimate and cosmically vast.

Limited Edition White Vinyl

At the forefront of a rising wave of Brazilian artists captivating international audiences, Nyron Higor brings a quiet yet potent sense of wonder to his new self-titled album. Born in Maceió, Higor’s latest work is rooted in the traditions of Northeastern Brazilian music and golden-era MPB. Within the peaceful surroundings of his home, Higor weaves these roots together with global influences and contemporary production techniques, for a uniquely dreamlike vision of hope.

Following the success of his self-released debut Fio de Lâmina—an instrumental record of delicately balanced rhythmic and harmonic patterns, which earned support from tastemakers like Mr. Scruff, Gilles Peterson, and John Gomez—Higor’s new album is a move towards a more expansive, lyrical exploration of transcendence and triumph. As Higor explains, “This album is a test of resistance and a big event in my life as a young Black man from the Northeast and coming from a humble background, financially speaking, its context is political.”

Taking his demos and unfinished tracks to São Paulo, Higor worked alongside friends and collaborators from Brazil’s vibrant contemporary music scene—including fellow Maceioense artists Bruno Berle, Batata Boy, and New York-based Brazilian vocalist Alici Sol—assembling a rich musical landscape and a cutting edge development on the musical world from which he emerges.

For Higor, the process of recording and producing in close collaboration with Berle and Batata Boy allowed him to fully cultivate the emotive power of his compositions. Album opener "Ciranda" sets the tone with a slow frevo rhythm, as wistful trombone melodies and melancholic acoustic guitar harmonies create an atmosphere both intimate and grand. Lead single "São Só Palavras," featuring Alici Sol and Bruno Berle, captures both the lightness and depth of young love in an all too fleeting minute-and-a-half moment of soaring brilliance.

Building upon the instrumental sound of his debut, “Louro Cantador” with its playful organ, birdlike whistles and elegant acoustic guitar, emanates a kind of rare natural beauty, as each sound dances amidst the gentle pulse of Higor's bass—his main instrument.

Through ten carefully crafted tracks, Higor’s acuity for sound and silence draws listeners into a place that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. “Above all, I value making music that brings me genuine satisfaction. I’m always looking for depth in the things I create.”

This album is a testament to the timeless themes that define Higor’s artistry, as well as his creative drive to overcome the obstacles he faces. Conveying his feelings of jubilance for his work, Higor notes, “This work is liberating, contemplative and victorious!” Each track invites the listener to experience the raw intimacy, the joy and longing, and the otherworldly ingenuity of Brazilian music, which seems to endlessly keep us coming back for more.

CREDITS

Ciranda (Nyron Higor)
Tico Lima: Trombone, Nyron Higor: Drums, Bass, Synthesizers, Electric Piano, Guitar, Molho de Jatobá, Ganzá, Caxixi, and Indigenous Whistle

Louro Cantador (Nyron Higor)
Nyron Higor: Drums, Bass, Keyboards, Guitar, Percussion, and Direct Sound

Demo Love (Nyron Higor)
Nyron Higor: Drums, Bass Synth, Keyboards, and Synthesizers

São Só Palavras feat. Alici, Bruno Berle (Nyron Higor, Batata Boy, Alici Sol, and Bruno Berle)
Alici Sol: Vocals, Bruno Berle: Vocals and Bass, Nyron Higor: Drums, Guitar, Keyboards, Synthesizers, and Whistles

Estou Pensando Em Você feat. Johanna (João Menezes, Rubens Adati)
Nyron Higor: Vocals, Johanna: Vocals. Bruno Berle: Vocals, Rubens Adati: Piano, Guitar, Programming, Stefan Costilhes: Bass, Batata Boy: Programming

Maravilhamento feat. Nathalia Grilo (Nyron Higor, Nathalia Grilo)
Nathalia Grilo: Vocals, Nyron Higor: Drums, Bass, Guitar, Keyboards, and Synthesizers

Som 24 (Nyron Higor)
Nyron Higor: Sampler, Keyboard, Bass Synth, Vocoder, and Steel Guitar

Pizzicato (Nyron Higor)
Nyron Higor: Double Bass and Keyboards

Eu Te Amo (João Menezes)
Nyron Higor: Vocals and Bass, João Menezes: Guitar, Batata Boy: Rhodes Piano, Bruno Berle: Xylophone

Me Vestir De Você feat. Johanna (Paulo Novaes and João Menezes)
Nyron Higor: Vocals, Johanna: Vocals, Bianca Godoi: Drums, Bruno Berle: Bass, Guitar, Percussion, and Rhodes Piano, Batata Boy: Rhodes Piano and Guitar

===================

Tracks 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, and 8 were recorded by Nyron Higor in Maceió

Track 4: Bass and Synthesizers recorded by Ico dos Anjos. Vocals recorded by Batata Boy at Estúdio Rural

Track 5: Guitars, Bass, Programming, and Pianos recorded at Inhame Estúdio. Coproduced by Rubens Adati

Tracks 9 and 10 Recorded and Co produced by Ico dos Anjos

Mixed by Batata Boy, Ico dos Anjos, Bruno Berle, and Nyron Higor

Mastered by Batata Boy

Produced by Batata Boy, Bruno Berle, and Nyron Higor

Lacquer Cut by Caspar Sutton Jones @ Gearbox Records

Cover photo by Claudio Virginio

Vinyl centre label artwork by Tadáskía

Sleeve design by Alessandro Renaldin

1/4" / 15 IPS / Dolby A Analogue Copy to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe

Carlos Santana and Company Return to a Dynamic Blend of R&B, Latin, Funk, and Rock: Amigos Aims for the Hips, Spreads Joy, and Includes “Europa (Earth’s Cry Heaven’s Smile)” Amigos has been beloved for decades by both long-time and recent Santana admirers, with multiple generations of fans drawn in by the record’s contagious blend of R&B, Latin, rock, and funk elements. As well as its immense accessibility. Coming off a series of albums that heavily leaned into jazz fusion, the band returns to the more dynamic and concise approaches of its earlier works without losing the sense of adventurousness, craftsmanship, and virtuosity that turned it into a juggernaut embraced by both the mainstream and experimentally minded communities.

Mastered at Mobile Fidelity’s in-house studio in California, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, and strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM LP of Amigos presents the 1976 album in audiophile sound for the first time on a domestic release. Part of the reissue label’s Santana series, this collectible version features quiet surfaces and black backgrounds that help reveal the intricate details, distinguished tones, and cohesive interplay that cause Santana’s music to take flight.

The enhanced aural perspectives extend not only to Carlos Santana’s intoxicating fills and solos, but to the rich tapestry of the rhythmic, melodic, and vocal elements that help Amigos feel as fresh today as it did several decades ago. This LP shines a beaming light on the surrounding musicians that simultaneously feed off and inspire their bandleader. The solidity and depth of the bass lines; the wash of the organ; the scope and carry of the vocals; the grip and weight of the low-end frequencies; and, possibly the most enticing traits, the textures of the acoustic guitars, numerous percussive devices, and then-modern synthesizers: all come across with tremendous presence and energy.

Entirely appropriate for a set that kicks from the start, with the opening “Dance Sister Dance (Baila Mi Hermana)” true to the song title’s combination directive-invitation meaning. Tropical, soulful, upbeat, and liberating, it beckons hips to shake and delicious libations to pour. Clinking cowbells, spirited background vocals, hand-tapped congas, and Carlos Santana’s six-string magma pour forth with abundance. The song sets the mood and expectations for a record that contains not an ounce of filler, and which inspires and spreads joy at practically every turn.

On the gold-certified Amigos, the ensemble never seems to run short of zest or happiness. Key in on the Latin bite and searing guitar architecture of “Take Me With You,” an instrumental that shifts tempo at its midpoint and sparkles with a samba-like outro that aims to put everyone in earshot on the dance floor. Surrender to the slow-burn of “Tell Me You Are Tired,” sent up with Greg Walker’s sympathetic vocals and spun around with whirling funk accents. Marvel at the Spanish guitar introduction, Mexican folk foundation, group vocals, and extroverted grooves of the forward-propulsive “Gitano,” with lead singing by conga/bongo expert Armando Peraza.

Having reached the Top 10 in the United States and spawned the hit “Let It Shine,” Amigos marked the final stint for bassist David Brown, the last of the group’s famed Woodstock lineup to depart. His contributions feel especially spirited throughout the album, compass readings that the group uses to chart their course. Just listen to how his passages pop on “Let Me” and frame the can’t-get-it-out-of-your-head “what you need is what you want” refrain. And while Carlos Santana remains the centerpiece of the brilliant and meditative “Europa (Earth’s Cry Heaven’s Smile),” Brown serves as a trustworthy anchor and friendly advocate.

Filled with aural magic and enchanting musical spells, Sorcerer is true to its name. The third of five albums by Miles Davis’ legendary Second Great Quintet — and the second record in a still-unprecedented string of eight consecutive releases within a four-year period that forever changed the face of jazz — the 1967 effort mesmerizes with instrumental colors, subdued musings, and subtle details. These crucial characteristics blossom with vibrant realism on Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM SuperVinyl LP.

Sourced from the original master tapes and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, this numbered-edition audiophile edition of Sorcerer joins the ranks of other essential Davis records given supreme sonic and packaging treatment by Mobile Fidelity. Longtime listeners will immediately recognize a wealth of information and depth of tonality unavailable on prior versions. The myriad shadings, interwoven textures, and relaxed nuances that tie the post-bop set’s warm compositions together are rendered with utmost realism. Credit goes to MoFi’s engineers as well as the label’s groundbreaking SuperVinyl profile that features the lowest-possible noise floor as well as sublime transparency, dead-quiet surfaces, and superb groove definition.

By any measure, this is a reference reissue. You’ll hear poetic lyricism pouring out of Wayne Shorter’s horn, the breadth and definition of the notes spreading across an enormous soundstage. Never before have drummer Tony Williams’ rim shots ricocheted with such purpose or his light percussive work mirrored that of a feather touching skin. Similarly, Herbie Hancock’s piano runs occupy their own space, where their relationship to the central rhythms and front line becomes clearer.

Prizing inflection and nuance more so than heady solos or uptempo flights, Sorcerer mesmerizes with cerebral properties and cascades of emotional interplay. Such beauty emerges in the mellow ballad “Pee Wee,” an indelible statement of restrained authority and sophisticated expression. The swirling title track unfolds as jazz shadowplay, Hancock, Shorter, and Williams mirroring one another’s moves with guile and purpose. The opening “Prince of Darkness” showcases the ensemble’s reach and communication, every musician going in seemingly different directions yet ending up on the same page.

A lasting example of Davis’ visionary insight, Sorcerer is comprised entirely of pieces written by his band mates. Indeed, save for the closing “Nothing Like You” — a brief tribute to Davis’ eventual wife, who also graces the cover, recorded in 1962 and adorned with vocals from Bob Dorough — the album represents a further maturation and refinement of a quintet that stands as one of the finest in jazz history.

MoFi SuperVinyl
Developed by NEOTECH and RTI, MoFi SuperVinyl is the most exacting-to-specification vinyl compound ever devised. Analog lovers have never seen (or heard) anything like it. Extraordinarily expensive and extremely painstaking to produce, the special proprietary compound addresses two specific areas of improvement: noise floor reduction and enhanced groove definition. The vinyl composition features a new carbonless dye (hold the disc up to the light and see) and produces the world’s quietest surfaces. This high-definition formula also allows for the creation of cleaner grooves that are virtually indistinguishable from the original lacquer. MoFi SuperVinyl provides the closest approximation of what the label’s engineers hear in the mastering lab.

Warrington-Runcorn New Town Development Plan's new album, Your Community Hub, compellingly continues his sonic exploration of the New Towns movement. The issues the councillors, planners, and architects set out to solve still resound and echo throughout society.

For the latest instalment in this unique project, Gordon Chapman-Fox turns his laser eye to focus on Community and the Community Centres that populated Warrington and Runcorn in order to provide all the facilities people needed within a five minute walk from their home. These planning ideas predated the current discussions of fifteen minute cities by fifty years.

Those 50 years have seen a decline in our community centres and services: handy access to a GP or dentist, Post Offices, youth clubs, local shops, banking and much more. Successive governments have undermined and eroded those basic services. The decline in community services has also been matched with a decline in community and shared experiences with a knock-on effect on the population's health and well-being. The disastrous austerity policies imposed over the last 15 years have exacerbated this long, slow reduction in available spaces for people to meet and communicate, with seemingly no recognition of the societal impact that causes. Short-termism at the expense of the community and how we live our lives.

Margaret Thatcher's statement that "there is no such thing as society" has been taken as a mission statement by successive Conservative governments who have aimed to remove as much support and communality from the citizens as possible. It continues now, the wrong-headed idea that everyone can be left to fend for themselves.

Chapman-Fox's latest album decries the cruelty of where we find ourselves in 2024 and his quiet incandescence about the loss of optimism for what communities should be and could be. It's his most powerful work, and as always, it will deeply resonate with those who tune in to his unique vision and unparalleled productions.

As ever, beautifully packaged and designed by Gordon, the album artwork features photographs from the archive of the architect Peter Garvin, which was kindly provided by his son Richard Garvin. The photographs show Peter's work on the Castlefield Community Centre, a sleek modernist structure clad in white ceramic tiles.

2025 Cream VINYL REPRESS.

When Alex Stephens (A.K.A. Strawberry Guy) self-released his debut single last year, he was merely doing it out of a love for songwriting. What he wasn't expecting was a million Youtube streams and an avid fanbase. Now, the South-Wales born, Liverpool-based songwriter is ready to release a full EP of his compelling, lushly produced dream-pop.

Born outside Cardiff, Strawberry Guy moved to Liverpool to study music and grow as a writer. 'I knew that it was a very artistic city with all it’s creative history, it seemed like the perfect place to move to.' he says. Whether it's playing keyboards in The Orielles or just being part of the city's growing musical scene, Alex plays music for the love of music, something that heavily translates into his adept songwriting.


The intense emotional feel of the tracks he writes is down to Alex's songwriting process, recording the entire EP in his bedroom & producing it himself. 'I feel that it’s important to me to only write/record when you’re channeling some kind of emotion, so I would only work on it when I was in the right mood to do so.' He answers when asked about the isolated environment into which he put himself for the recording process.

Much of the inspiration for Alex's work comes from experience rather than other artists. 'When something significant happens to me, all I want to do is make music.' In terms of musical touchstones however, there's the obvious dream-pop contemporaries such as Beach House and Weyes Blood, coupled with great songwriters of old like Nat King Cole or Harry Nillson. Sonically, a blend of orchestral & synthesized melodies layer together to act as a platform for his heartfelt lyrics.

Opener 'Without You' is a fine example of this, a break-up song of sorts, with an infectious keyboard melody and swirling synths over which Alex contemplates whether it's even possible to find lasting love. The lyrics 'Do you really have to talk about the things you do with him? Do you really have to talk about your love?' hit particularly heavily.

Contrast this with the final track, the titular 'Taking My Time To Be', a powerful song of self-discovery. Beginning with downtempo piano and drums, the song breaks out into a saxophone and synth solo that wouldn't go amiss on a Badalamenti soundtrack. 'The song is about me learning to be comfortable with myself, but then wondering if I'll be accepted for being myself' Alex imparts. It's a fitting closer to a EP driven by emotion and experience.

Forever was a record that was written and recorded one track at a time with my husband Coley. After scrapping about 20 songs or so I had written the last few years, I wanted to get to the heart of things. I had a great talk with a friend on the phone and she mentioned she just wasn’t sure where I’d been. I realized I wasn’t really certain of that either. It’d been a foggy few years after 2020, and the pieces seemed to just be starting to be picked up. I had fallen in love, gotten married, had a dog, a house…things I had always dreamed of. But it took my quite some time to accept them as my life. For a bit, I felt like an outsider watching myself stumble though everything, and was constantly critiquing myself, to the point where I could hardly leave the house for a bit. But then I realized my life was passing me by, and the love I was living in required presence to accept. I started to do the little things you have to do to just show up for people: listen, grow, change, write….get outside of my own problems. Time is flying, and I want to be here for it all rather than lost in my thoughts all the time. My love is forever. When I was a kid I used to say to my mom and dad “I love you forever and always” then neurotically changed it to “I love you forever and always and it’s true and I mean it”…because I wanted to make sure they knew how much I wasn’t messing around! I still feel that way when I say “I love you” to anyone and hope it comes across on this record. Love y’all forever!

20025 Repress

Barker makes solo debut on Ostgut Ton with new experimental dancefloor EP

Sam Barker has had a long ongoing relationship with Berghain and Ostgut Ton, having released two LPs and various EPs as one half of Barker & Baumecker and hosting regular nights at the club since September 2008 as co-founder of the label Leisure System. 2017 marked the beginning of his solo residency, 2018 sees his first solo release with Ostgut Ton.

Both as a musician and label owner, Barker operates on the fringes of techno, balancing experimentation with functionality. On Debiasing, he takes a hard look at the musical elements often
considered necessary to maintain dancefloor momentum, with four distinct tracks of morphing synth stabs and paired down metronomic rhythms in varying time signatures. While there is no kick, snare, or clap to be heard, the result is not experimental techno deconstructions but driving, hypnotic and unlikely dancefloor tools.

Inspired by the psychology underpinning relationships between producer/DJ and audience, Debiasing is an exercise in creating alternative paths within a techno framework. In Barker's own words: If you have ever sat down with a drum machine and tried to elude the rules of dance music, you will find at whatever tempo, and however you arrange the rhythms of each sound, you inevitably end up somewhere. I've generally tried to get away from that, but you always hit against this problem of an all-encompassing taxonomy and the baggage that comes with it. For a long time, music only seemed to show me how deeply locked into our habits and patterns we are.

Mr. K returns to the fertile ground of the Paradise Garage for his latest with two certified floor-fillers closely tied to the legendary club.

TW Funkmasters’ “Love Money” took an unusual path to its eventual elevated status as a dance classic. The brainchild of UK radio reggae jock Tony Williams (the “TW” in the group’s name), it was conceived in response to seminal rap release “Rapper’s Delight,” but with reggae superstar Dennis Brown’s 1978 hit single “Money In My Pocket” as the lyrical inspiration. Indeed, the vocal version of the Funkmasters’ song is considered the UK’s very first homegrown rap tune. But it was the flip side that garnered the most attention in New York however. “The original track was quirky and worked at the Garage,” Danny Krivit says, “but when the dub came out, it really blew up everywhere. After that very few people played the vocal.” Krivit’s edit here takes the influential, futuristic dub and tightens the arrangement up for the 7-inch format. “Love Money” went on to heavily influence the New York City dance underground, with homages coming in the form of subtle tributes (Mateo & Matos’ “Love Style”) to a virtual remake from Larry Levan himself (Man Friday’s “Love Honey, Love Heartache”) to the untold records that have sampled or been influenced by the spacey, heavy groove.

We’re back closer to home and a more traditional source for Garage classics with our flip side, Janice McClain’s “Smack Dab In The Middle.” The Philadelphia born and bred singer burst out of the gate with this very Philly sounding single in 1979. Written and produced by her uncle, the song was recorded when McClain was all of fifteen years old, a fact made more astonishing by a commanding vocal performance that resonated immediately with listeners. Recognizing a good thing when he saw it, disco maven Ray Caviano picked the song up for his newly minted RFC label and enlisted Larry Levan himself to mix it for 12-inch release. It is Levan’s version that provides the jumping off point for Krivit’s edit here — “the original 7-inch version the way it was never seemed worth playing,” Krivit says — and he makes the most of the jazzy Philly disco groove, injecting extra energy in the early minutes of the song with a tasty filtered break unique to this mix.

Pressed and mastered with DJs in mind, this loud and crystal clear single is the perfect combination of bonafide Garage classics and the talents of Mr. K, all on one compact piece of vinyl.

A new album by four-piece band District Five from Zurich is always a good moment to reassess one’s own expectations. After Burnt Sugar 2022 and Pause 2023, Come Closer is the third album by Vojko Huter, Paul Amereller, Tapiwa Svosve and Xaver Rüegg, which mixes a wide range of references without ever being bothered by the commitment to one genre only. Imagine the band as something like a catalyst, through which its members constantly process what they are influenced by. And these influences are in constant motion: derived from the old-fashioned and amicable interest of collaboratively making music, the band comes together in their weekly ritual, dedicated to this synthesis of interests. At one point, this unrestricted game was called jazz, but even a generous concept can become too narrow. Which is why the genre remains an important influence, but not the only point of reference. Rather, its qualities are the root system from which everything else grows.

Case in point for this expansion of possibilities is the first track on Come Closer, which, and here comes a genre attribution after all, moves the album into the vicinity of dream pop. “Another One” centers the voice, evoking old and new memories alike. Accompanied by an adequately slowed-down guitar riff and rhythm, the musical framework remains stable before collapsing in a nervous, shimmering manner. Ready to be assembled anew. On the following seven tracks, District Five takes on this task, referencing post-punk motifs as well as progressive, meandering song structures. Condensed and expansive at the same time, driven by a desire for collective play.

This trusting cooperation between District Five’s members is ultimately the constant of Come Closer. Although the four musicians seem determined to find a different way to organize themselves as a band on almost every song, this conversational approach holds the album together on an intuitive level. And in the end, the only question that remains is: is it the members that influence the band, or is it the other way around?

While 1995's Washing Machine LP moniker was a thinly-veiled jab at the corporate aesthetic ("no, you cannot turn Sonic Youth into a household appliance brand", the band even considered changing its name to Washing Machine but settled on the album title instead), their major label relationship was indeed a curious buzzpoint of talk on the street after their intake to DGC in 1990. It wouldn't be fair to say that this state of existence propelled the band to reinforce its independent mindset by releasing a series of opaque-looking, French-language-dipping, highbrow-looking releases on their own that focused on the more abstract improv/compositional side of the band; in all truths they had been heavily steeped in self-releasing spillover material prior to that. But after a pressure pot of the early 90's indoctrination into a new operational mode for the band and its visibility, and the forces around it attempting to shape their direction, it seemed like a good time to create a strong show of radical concept.

The Anagrama EP became the first in a series of the SYR label's Perspective Musicales releases seemingly cementing Sonic Youth's connectivity to an increasing public awareness in experimental composers of the 20th century (French or otherwise). The irony was that many of those original avant composers being rediscovered by the indie audience (Partch, Neuhaus, Reich, Messaien) often found themselves on major labels anyway! So, perhaps this reverse approach was a necessary concept/comment given the music biz climate of the 90's. Regardless of how apples and oranges fell in Xenakian probability/theory, it was clear that both Sonic Youth's stature in progressive music, aided by now unlimited taperoll time thanks to a home base studio downtown established after their Lollapalooza stint, gave the band plenty of trailblazing time for their self examination of untraveled avenues.

"Anagrama" unfolds into nine minutes of delicate textures, starting with thick drone segueing into moments reminiscent of the post-crescendo flutter/comedown of "Marquee Moon's" trail-out; Thurston, Lee and Kim's guitars all circling round each other taking delicate pokes and stabs before drifting into some post-rock rhythmic moves tapered with delicate percussive guidance from Steve Shelley. "Improvisation Ajoutée" reaches further out into dissolve with whirring oscillations, guitars hissing and clanking radiator-style in a short blast format that continues into "Tremens" and a spooked-out landscape of gelatinous notes snaking up slowly. The sparseness of attack is colorful, textures emit and linger, silent spots shine, all flanked by tasteful drumming that provides the thread to all the abstraction. Shelley's approach here is interestingly sideways to any kind of usual rock action, it's tempered, mutant and metronomic simultaneously. The finale track "Mieux: De Corrosion" is a real pedal-palatte showcase. Here, Plutonian guitar wash flanges upwards to buoy a myriad of colorful eruptions of amp-spuzz, chopped up tone blasts and general confusion. Out of the blue, some metallic one-note choogle kicks in and threatens to explode into some Judas Priestly motion, before it all sputters into aural glass showers, clang, and finally a ferocious wave of more flange hiss that crashes down on a dime.

This initial foray into SY's Perspectives Musicales series continued onward with releases featuring other co-conspirators, peaking with the ambitious 2CD Goodbye 20th Century that finally connects the band into full-on interpretations of other composers' pieces (as well as displaying their own new ones). The whole series is not so much an outlet for another "side" of the band, but a run that went hand in hand building new approaches of songcraft onto their own, more overground direction which included Jim O'Rourke (who hopped on during SYR3), adding additional density to A Thousand Leaves and other LPs of his era. Fans of the '86 Spinhead Sessions as well as the recently-exhumed later jams of In/Out/In will take in the sounds of SYR1 with glee.

On his third album as Etelin, Alex Cobb explores the intricacies of separation and belonging using field recordings and electronics, reconfiguring the dividing line between what is artificial and natural in the process. Maintaining a sense of playful reverence and lurking melancholy in its glitchy pastoralism, Patio User Manual hums with a meticulous and singular energy. From the loops and static pulses of "The Chemistry of Cobalt" to the tension and release of "Electrical Sailing," the listener is pulled into a sound world at once ambivalent and radiant, reaching its denouement in the lovely melody that closes the final track, "Picnic at Gas Station Park". Although the album might bring to mind the nuanced and imaginative ambient music published by labels such as Mille Plateaux, Sonig, and Silent Records in the 1990s, it is, in the end, a world of its own and very much of today. The patio as a stage for alienated life, pyrrhic in its isolation, deceptive in its promise of distinction. Orientation as disorientation, often unseen inside the frame but felt in the bones. What is out there, anyway, other than the thing we fear the most?



"Another day of weird weather and screens. What type of perfume did Philip Johnson wear when he designed Glass House? Is it actually possible to flee to the country when you’ve internalized a lifetime of intellectualized urban living? When you buy a DIY patio kit, you get instructions for how best to embed concrete or brick or flagstone into the natural world. The patio will make you enjoy your environment more. It will become yours. You can stand on it and think “this is Mine.” The structuralists talked about the importance of fixed camera position, but didn’t properly interrogate it because to do so would be impossible. It’s hard to believe that it really wasn’t long ago that computer music seemed exciting, novel, even radical. We’re now thoroughly estranged from eating what’s in season. Walking around the woods in southern Ohio in spring, I thought about the curious imperative of the patio, how my kids get excited about picking oyster mushrooms, the dynamics of switched capacitor filters, and how adequacy is tethered to doubt." - AC, May 2024

A long-lost vinyl album is back in stock: for the last 20 years, Kosmischer Pitch by Jan Jelinek, originally released in 2005 on ~scape, existed only as a digital download. Right on time for the 20th anniversary the remastered album is available again on vinyl. The digital version includes two previously unreleased pieces from that period.

What the press said about Kosmischer Pitch back in 2005:

“For Kosmischer Pitch, Jelinek draws from the obsessed-over rock produced by his German countrymen in the 1970s. (…) Trance-inducing repetition is constantly modulated by variations that hover on the threshold of audibility. (…) one of the more remarkable bodies of work in electronic music.” - Pitchfork

„Like the cosmic compositions it delicately references, Kosmischer Pitch is proof that the higher and lower pleasures can triumphantly combine.” - The Wire Magazine

“ The old Jelinek approach can also be heard on the new album - not least the “Pitch” in the title, which, as Martin Büsser explains in the info sheet, refers specifically to Wild Pitch House, generally to manipulation/exploitation of the sense of time - but there are striking differences: clear vintage synth, guitar and drum sounds, very subtle club references.” - Groove

“t's impossible to know how many layers of sound Jelinek has stacked up on any of these eight tracks, but each one seems to take on a shadowy, ghost-like life of its own as it morphs across time and space. Minimalist, yes, in a way, but thick as a wool rug.” - AllAboutJazz

The Gentle Spring are a new group, formed by Michael Hiscock, Emilie Guillaumot and Jérémie Orsel. Michael has an illustrious pop history, having been a founder member of The Field Mice, possibly the most beloved band on Sarah Records in the 1990s. And with The Gentle Spring, it seems that history is repeating itself…

When Michael and his friend Bobby Wratten formed The Field Mice, the two of them very quickly created a set of songs whose emotional honesty, raw guitars and perfect pop melodies pierced the hearts of a generation of indiepop fans, kids who were unmoved by the posturing of mainstream indie, and who didn’t want to spend time in fields dancing at 24-hour raves. The Field Mice were the band who defined the meaning and the spirit of Sarah Records. Defiantly in love with pop, defiantly un-macho, defiantly…sensitive. And now, remarkably, Michael has done it again. With his new musical partner Emilie, The Gentle Spring have created a fresh new iteration of indiepop music. Once again, the songs are unafraid of raw emotions, brutally honest and is still in love with big pop melodies.

They are still….sensitive. But life is seen through a different lens now. There is wisdom, there is experience, and there is the ability to look back at the world with a mixture of regret and joy. These are very adult songs, and the arrangements reflect this. Rich acoustic guitars and Emilie’s haunting keyboard have replaced hectic drum machines and urgent distortion. And there is a third element to this music. Jérémie Orsel’s sophisticated guitar adds textures and melodies that give these songs a real depth, while maintaining an enigmatic distance, never quite overwhelming the vocal line. So things are clearer now.

But feelings are just as strong. The pain of unrequited love that made Field Mice songs so poignant hasn’t gone away. In some ways, the thought of roads not taken is more profound when experienced in retrospect. I Can’t Have You As A Friend entertains this notion, still moved by the allure of a different life, but shuddering with fear at what might have happened. Also still haunted by the past, The Girl Who Ran Away conjures up the ghost of a previous failed relationship, which threatens to undermine happiness in the present. In Severed Hearts, sung by Emilie, there is the stark recognition that some endings really are final: sometimes there can be no reconciliations. But the song cleverly moves on from this: it acknowledges that, even after the worst emotional loss, you have to pick yourself, you will move on. It’s sophisticated and it’s mature – but it will still break your heart. Sugartown is another song that plays this trick on you. It insists that there will always be lightness and shade. It warns you against complacency, but does it so kindly that you feel like you’ve been embraced. When Michael’s and Emilie’s vocals combine in the final chorus, telling us that we don’t live in Sugartown, you know they are right – and yet the sweetness of the singing makes you feel that – just for a moment – you do.the band perform as a trio and have already found a keen audience in France, where they are based. During a short tour of the UK in January, to coincide with this release, British audiences will get their first opportunities to see The Gentle Spring play these new songs live

For the hotly anticipated third release on her critically acclaimed new record label Uppers and Downers, Dr. Rubinstein has tapped one of her favorite producers--Yerevan's Dave N.A.--to take the helm and deliver a smart and stunning rave EP pitched at the intersection of acid and jungle. A prolific producer, adventurous DJ, and co-founder of the ABC Community, Yerevan's collective hub for amplifying breakbeat,jungle, and drum & bass sounds in the Armenian rave community, Dave N.A. is no stranger to Uppers and Downers, just having contributed a vivacious, jungle influenced reinterpretation of Rubi's track "Extacid" to the label's second release, Rubi's Acid Spa Remixes. For the past decade, Dave N.A.'s productions have reliably offered a fresh, frenetic yet finely tuned take on classic rave genres and their acid-drenched antics while exploring the cutting edge of international experimental bass and hard rave idioms. 'XLSoundwaves' proves to be no exception, taking listeners on a boisterous yet atmospheric, tight yet sprawling sonic journey that combines acid, jungle, hard trance, breakbeat, and IDM influences amid a striking wash of captivating, high-definition ambient studio sound design.
'XL Soundwaves' kicks off with "BFLY," an expansive track that features tunneling hard trance 303 lines deftly weaving through bouncy jungle breaks at a sprightly 165, all emerging from and ultimately fading back into an ethereal plenitude of ambient pads punctuated by a soulful, resonant vocal refrain. Next up, "Radiance" offers an infectiously groovy, sidewinding jaunt through cheeky acid breaks that evolves into a crescendo of lush, eyes-to-the-sky ecstasy. "XL," the EP's third offering, brings the heat with fat basslines, frequent turntablist rave licks, and a freaky sense of humor, almost cinematically projected onto a vast horizon of sumptuous strings. The EP comes to closewith "A.I.R.," a thoughtful banger with a mischievous IDM sensibility that sets acid jungle adrift on an ocean of shimmering orchestral sampladelia and ambient synth radiance.
To some, Dave N.A.'s acid jungle opus might seem like an unexpected plot twist in thecuratorial trajectory of Uppers and Downers. Much to the contrary however, the 'XL Soundwaves EP' is a perfect early release, helping to establish the mission of Uppersand Downers as continuing the search across diverse international rave genres, traditions, and communities for producers and productions that resonate with Dr.Rubinstein's lifelong pursuit of soundtracking her ideal rave: one that offers ravers access to an ecstatic, joyful, affirmative, and inclusive sense of home, of feeling at homewith both oneself and one another through the music.