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A collection of newfangled pagan hymns to coincide with the end of truth.

Recorded under a full flower moon at the Albion Rooms in Margate. The heartfelt, mystical ditties are accompanied by Matt Millership on an ancient piano, with no other instrumentation. The whole record is simply piano and voice.

These songs are about trading modern society for a wilder, more feral existence. Songs that dig deep into the meaning of life and our purpose on earth. They provide an exit strategy from boring dystopia by gambling the flood for a fairy tale.

This might sound pompous, but such is life, and such is the wild goose chase.

The Equatoguinean Norberto de Nöah established in Madrid in the early 80s, where he became a firebrand of African culture in the vibrant Movida. In 1988 he self-released his first solo album, a blend of homeland sounds —modern and traditional— with new synth and drum machine touches. The vanished album finally gets its well-deserved reissue.

Edition of 500 albums on vinyl (Bandcamp download code included) - Original artwork with new 14 pages insert and poster

In the mid-1980s, the European media, music industry and public became increasingly interested in African music. This was a period of international success for King Sunny Adé, Salif Keita, Youssou N’Dour, Ray Lema, Touré Kunda, etc. Spain, with its own particular conditions, wasn’t oblivious to the phenomenon and the Equatoguinean Norberto de Nöah may be its best exponent.

Norberto moved in the early eighties from his hometown in the island Fernando Po (now known as Bioko) to its former colonial capital, Madrid. While studying dramatic arts, he created and led the band Nohkis, made up of African and Spanish musicians. In 1985 they released the maxi-single “Mujer española” / “África, ¿dónde está tu gloria?”, and the song “El loco”, was released on a compilation LP called Esto es increíble, both on the label Lollipop. According to the journalist Patricia Godes, they were first artists to record an African music record in Spain. It received positive reviews and a great impact on the most independent side of Madrid’s La Movida movement. Very soon afterwards, Nohkis’ band split up.

Afterwards, Norberto would concentrate on his solo career, and Norberto de Nöah and The Böhöbé Spirits Müsic was released in 1988, definitely a solo album. Norberto created his own label, Kilimandjaro Productions, and composed, arranged and produced all the songs of the LP. Moreover, he sang and played all the instruments: a vast selection of organic instruments, a Yamaha RX-5 drum machine and a Roland D-50 synthesizer.

In the album he exposed his deepest roots, updating the lexicon of traditional Bubi music, the musician’s ethnic group, a compendium of ceremonial melodies that ancient troubadours composed for the court. Doing so he showed new possibilities to one of the oldest ethnic groups in the world. Besides all this, he was also inspired by American music such as funk, R&B, Latin American music and also by a wide range of African and Caribbean rhythms.

Mixing the traditional and the avant-garde in a spontaneous and natural way, the music contained in the record’s grooves flows freely and takes you to places full of magic and mystery, while still transmitting new and exciting sensations. Even more, according to the Equatoguinean musician and writer Baron Ya Búk-Lu based in Madrid, the album’s sound was “the perfect combination of all characteristics that defined the Equatoguinean Afropop music made in Madrid during the 1980s”, a story that still needs to be told in all its depth and intensity!

Following the release of two LPs and several singles, the activity of Norberto de Nöah and Kilimandjaro Productions (and the subsequent Bananas Podridas) ceased. Nevertheless, Norberto’s links to music continued, as a promoter and DJ in Madrid’s nightlife.

Norberto de Nöah contributed greatly to changing Spain’s musical landscape, breaking barriers and mental frameworks. He was the first to make contemporary and popular Guinean music known to the Spanish public.

The repercussions in the African market of a Spanish (and Bube) speaking African musical project, where English and French dominate, was very difficult. In addition, the passage of time and changes in phonographic formats have diluted the memory of Norberto's legacy. Now it’s time to reverse the situation and break all the outdated frontiers!

Norberto de Nöah and The Böhöbé Spirits Müsic, as every important music piece, was at the same time part of a universal phenomenon of recognition of African music and a very personal project, based on the artist’s nostalgic and heartfelt need to show and homage his ethnic group, the Bubis. In this process he also refreshed his hometown music legacy, giving it a new air and opening the door to lots of other great Equatoguinean artists coming afterwards, as well as being an inspiration for many musicians in Spain.

Well-versed in vintage vernaculars, Oakland-based producer/musician Mike Walti is about to return with his sophomore offering under the Organi moniker – as new album “Babylonia” follows 2020’s “Parlez-vous Français?,” a landmark in vibe acquisition ever since.

Wyldwood Studios is a portal. It’s a secret gateway to analog spheres. Cross the threshold and you’ll feel the difference: you can pick any ol’ time, any place, any tongue or vibe, in fact. Hit the dancefloor in 1967, feel that plushy loveseat in the early 70s. It’s a welcoming place where better, saner vibes are still within reach. Fueled, at least in part, by those long-classic 12”s on the walls – just imagine the sepia-tinted countenance of Melody Nelson alongside actual Birkin sans wig, right next to Shadow’s immortal crate diggers, forever blurred –, and channeled through ancient time travel devices such as the MCI 416B only to arrive on classic 2-inch tape (MM1000 aka Ol’ Bessy), it’s a haven for all things organic, for all things imbued with that warm élan. Built and run by Oakland’s own Mike Walti, countless artists from many different genres have felt that flair, creating sonic spheres and moving back and forth along the malleable axis that is space-time. Capturing magic.

Emerging from this unique portal back in 2020, Walti’s aka Organi’s first studio album was a stunning answer to its titular question – “Parlez-vous Français?” It was a soothing, somewhat psychedelic trip so magnétique and alluring that it immediately brought back those bits of Franglais you never knew you remembered. Whereas the debut LP indeed felt like a spontané voyage to the French Riviera ca. 1968, its follow-up “Babylonia” is so much more than linguistic confusion and ancient Akkadian Rhythms. Using that hidden portal near Alameda’s finest port to access all kinds of remote regions and sonic spheres, it’s super tight and feels, well, decent, even though, just like the ol’ Babylon, it’s full of surprising tongues and dreams, schemes and melodies.

“Where do we go from here?,” someone asks in opening “Organii-“ – all majestically cinematic boom bap, buoyant bass, sick strings. A fittingly massive opener that feels like cracking open a cold one after long weeks at work (that ecstatic “ahhhh”), it perfectly sets the tone for another half hour of pure time traveling, globe-spanning bliss. Whereas that certain prédilection pour all things French makes “La Rockette” so tempting and tantalizing (think MalMalNonBien), the sophomore album’s Berlin-based guest singer Nana Lacrima soon takes us elsewhere: title track “Babylonia” spins ever so softly, like a magic lantern, with images of dreamier Stones Throw funksters or Savath y Savalas looming over the steady flow of an arrangement that washes you clean like an ancient, unpolluted River Euphrates or Brazil’s actual Amazon. A sexy Portuguese-flavored anthem, occasional guest singer Alix Koliha also enters the scene to add yet another layer of French chic to this Brazilian landscape. Next, we’re back at the Riviera, but the “Italiano” version of it, splendido sunsets and bell towers in the distance, the ragazze laughing and shaking it up, perhaps even some Portofino Gin so you can really feel that “me ne batto il belin,” as your fingers align form some half-serious “ma che vuoi?”

Tim Maia-penned “Padre Cicero” (1970) deals with the stunning transformation of the titular hero – “De reverendo a lutador,” and what a soaring, sensual hook –, and Organi’s take on Elephant Memory’s “Old Man Willow” (now an “Old Man Waltz”) perfectly underlines what Walti’s Wyldwood endeavor is all about: Easy-Going Experimental Dream Pop, fueled by Gainsbourg, Broadcast, Stereolab, etc.

Later on, even though something seems to be tres complique in “Remembering Anna,” it all sounds carefree like a spontaneous Friday afternoon with a bottle of fine wine. Right before the outro, key album guest Yea-Ming Chen (of Yea-Ming & The Rumors) returns to the mic, adding her dark and dusky trademark timbre to melancholy anthem “Pictures Of Your Face”. Reminiscent of Nico and Trish (rip & rip), it’s a track that’s both dark and strangely propelling, hypnotic and hip-shaking.

A third generation Bay Area native, Mike Walti aka Organi has been running Wyldwood Studios in Oakland CA for some 15+ years (recording artists like Tommy Guerrero, Spelling, Why?, Latyrx, Del, Dan The Automator, and Big Freedia, to name but a few). A multi-instrumentalist who’s obviously in love with the 60s/70s, he loves to work with analog equipment (“We just love us some analog!” “Just listen to those relays purr…”). Recorded and mixed by Mike Walti at Wyldwood, “Babylonia” will be released on vinyl/digital by Alien Transistor.

In addition to the unique musical proposals and the large body of work that they have developed separately, Amelia Cuni and Werner Durand have been performing together as a duo as well as in collaborations (Tonaliens, Born of Six) for more than 20 years. Fusing her Indian Raga singing in the Dhrupad style with his minimalist and experimental approach, they have expanded the reach of their soundworlds as well as proposed new paths for contemporary music.In this occasion, Uli Hohmann joins them in a range of hand drums from the Middle East and North Africa, plus a dulcimer-sounding hammered guitar. Durand's various self-made wind instruments, soprano sax, and blown kalimba shine along with Cuni's astounding vocals, which are sometimes sung through a mirliton (a medieval type of kazoo). Clearing is the trio's first published recording.

Seconds of Thirst, recorded in one session at Uli´s studio in Bavaria in early 2014, is truly a conjuring where distinctive balances come to gather. A deep drone unfolds patiently in a hypnotic manner, comprised by Werner's characteristic PVC clarinets, a hammered guitar played by Hohmann, and subtle electronic tones. Above all, Amelia's singing voice, filtered through the mirliton, drifts buzzing along the gradually shifting harmonic waves, meandering through serpentine melodic lines and microtonality.

In the middle pieces, vocals turn into an ethereal multi-layered chorus, an exotic and astonishing instrument pulsing delicate and vaporously, like a gliding silk sail without a mast to bind it. Misty ambiances linger on as the soft atmosphere disperses the weight of undelivered syllables. Just intonation aligns the pan-ney's winds with vocal navigation. Foe to scattering, hurry, and affectation, Clearing's pace has lifted a fog translucent enough to reveal treetops calmly appearing, efficiently condensing damp into definite drops that fall drumming, forecasting what's yonder.

With a condensing sound going from Buddhist morning chants down to Indian festive traditional music, the title track, which closes the album, is the most vibrant of all, permeating a bit of commotion through buzzing drones and galloping percussion. Without disorder, yet without measure. Clearing is therefore this shuttle into the distance, this space that weaves, unites, and tenses the different cords that we are made up of.

When the clouds advance silently, gray, until they become dark in a few minutes, it means that the monsoon is coming. It reaches us without apparent noise, but then resounds in its images, leaving behind lightness, freshness, clarity, and a tremendous luminosity that comes from so far away: from the Himalayas, from so ancient, from Sanskrit, from a sound where the darkness and the divine, where the concrete and the landscape, where the rock and the humidity leave a mark that brings together and ties a sky loaded with new clouds.

With over 30 years of studio experience under his belt, pivotal British techno producer Kirk Degiorgio once again lands on De:tuned with the mesmerizing eight-track album Requiem. The trademark As One sonic signature shines through and beautifully expands with a more melodic touch as Catherine Siofra Prendergast joins the As One line-up. Nourishing your body and soul, the progressed As One soundscapes result in a coherent production of the highest order. Stay tuned!

Kevin Foakes (Openmind, DJ Food, Ninja Tune) created all the graphic work. Mastered by Matt Colton at Metropolis. A separate digital release will also be available at the usual digital shops. Stay tuned!

With over 30 years of studio experience under his belt, pivotal British techno producer Kirk Degiorgio once again lands on De:tuned with the mesmerizing eight-track album Requiem. The trademark As One sonic signature shines through and beautifully expands with a more melodic touch as Catherine Siofra Prendergast joins the As One line-up. Nourishing your body and soul, the progressed As One soundscapes result in a coherent production of the highest order. Stay tuned!

Kevin Foakes (Openmind, DJ Food, Ninja Tune) created all the graphic work. Mastered by Matt Colton at Metropolis. A separate digital release will also be available at the usual digital shops. Stay tuned!

With this second record Shoko unveils a new genre called “Onsen Music”. Each track invites you on a relaxing journey, much like soaking away your troubles in the steamy hot waters of a traditional Japanese spa (Onsen). The variety of songs mimic the variety of onsens, some are salty and scorching, some are smooth and clear, some are bubbly and colorful, and others are a refreshing dip into crisp clear waters. In every instance, there's a sense of satisfaction as soothing and delightful as the tracks themselves. This ode to “relax”, while remaining irresistibly danceable, is filled with good vibrations, melodies and hooks that go straight to the heart, saxophone playing virtuosity, intricate electronic compositions, vocals that make us dream of new worlds, and beats that could keep us on a dancefloor all night long.

Shoko Igarashi was born in Yamagata Prefecture, Tsuruoka city, Japan. An accomplished tenor saxophonist, she is also a versatile flautist and plays alto and soprano saxophone fluently. She has already made her mark as both an arranger and a composer. Shoko grew up surrounded by dreamlike landscapes of abundant nature in the snowy countryside of Tsuruoka, a mysterious and surreal region renowned for producing the best quality rice in Japan, where she says, “the water and the air feel the purest," and where mountains and shrines overflow with ancient mysticism.

Mastered on a reel to reel tape machine cut on 12" 180g green marbled vinyl.

In C and Rainbow in Curved Air get all the ink (inc?), but its own somewhat subtle way, 1980’s Shri Camel, the last of the three brilliant albums Terry Riley recorded for CBS, is every bit as groundbreaking as its hallowed predecessors. Not content to rest on his laurels as a minimalist master, Riley studied with Hindustani classical singer Pandit Pran Nath during the ‘70s; by blending that Eastern influence with his own experiments in just intonation (where tuning is dictated by equal mathematical intervals rather than the “tempered” tuning familiar to Western music), Riley made an album whose shimmering textures (played through a specially modified Yamaha organ) seem to change with one’s own breath or thought, like the reflection of rippling water on rock. And while Shri Camel is far more demanding and ultimately rewarding than any “New Age” recording, one definitely gets the sense that its ever-evolving, ecstatically hypnotic rhythmic and harmonic patterns are massaging the brain’s neural circuitry, leaving one refreshed, relaxed, and, yes, maybe even a little smarter than before listening. First LP reissue and long overdue!

Nummer Music are proud to present the first reissue of Paul Mahoux’s seminal BùLù project.

The Parisian (now Okinawa-based) producer released “Silicon-Shepherd / Senegalese-Sharpshooter” 30 years ago today on the french label Virtual.
Both cuts give a unique insight into the sound of the early Trance scene and travel beyond the boundaries of Techno & House. Whether you’re revisiting the past or experiencing them for the first time, they still stand as a testament to the free spirit of the early ‘90s.

On side A, the bouncy Silicon-Shepherd shows off BùLù’s singular sampling techniques: chopped up vocals, tripped out synths and a touch of M1 slap bass take you into unexpected peak-time territories, where euphoria meets deep mind-travelling (i.e. DMT).

On the flip, Senegalese-Sharpshooter unveils another facet of BùLù’s buoyant universe. The french producer slows down the pace and invites the listener on a magical meditative journey, the lullaby-like theme tune shacks up with ancient traditional instruments and mystical choirs, again freed from any sort of constraint of style or genre.

On remix duties, Nummer’s very own E-Talking gives Silicon-Shepherd a club lift while our beloved Caldera injects Senegalese-Sharpshooter with a heavy dose of his signature swampiness.

Lara Sarkissian’s long-awaited debut full-length, ‘Remnants’ is an ornate patchwork of ancient and modern sonic shapes that uses the vernacular of electronic music to reformulate Armenian traditions and memories. Taking digitally modeled instruments (such as the kanun, a large zither, and the duduk, an ancient double reed woodwind instrument), vocals, davul and dhol drums, tenor saxophone (from acclaimed Paris-based player Adrien Soleiman) and myriad electronic elements and techniques, Sarkissian tangles the old and the new, creating an immersive, narrative-driven experience that’s powered by history, mythology and her own familial connection to the West Asian landscape. It’s an album that’s best absorbed like a film; only multiple encounters can reveal its layered themes and references to industrial music, noise, various club styles, ambient and traditional folk.

Born and raised in San Francisco and currently based in Los Angeles, Sarkissian has developed her unique approach to composition over years of relentless experimentation across various disciplines. Her interest in music production initially stemmed from her filmmaking and video editing work, when she began to sculpt her own sound collages and scores to accompany the visuals. Since then, she’s constantly blurred the boundary between dance and experimental music, DJing around the world, producing AV installations and scoring film and video projects that have been exhibited in Berlin’s Gropius Bau, Montréal’s Musée d’art contemporain, the Music Center Los Angeles and other prestigious institutions, and releasing music with labels such as Tresor, Knekelhuis, All Centre, Silva Electronics and CLUB CHAI, the label and event series she co-founded. In recent years, she’s also been able to advance the theory behind her art, publishing a conversation with ethnomusicologist Sylvia Alajaji in the Journal of the Society of Armenian Studies in 2021, and unveiling her methodology in Norient’s ‘This Track Contains Politics – The Culture of Sampling in Experimental Electronica’ a year later.

‘Remnants’ is a new stage in Sarkissian’s evolution as an artist; not only is it her first proper album, but it’s the inaugural release on her new platform btwn Earth+Sky. She sees the label as a place to encourage collaborations between musicians and producers and prioritize sound in visual arts realms, and ‘Remnants’ is the ideal proof of concept. It opens with ‘Heaven, or Paradise; and Hell’, a track that’s inspired by the layout of the Armenian sharakan (or hymn) ‘Aravot Luso’. Sarkissian imagines the original piece’s harmonies and melodies as parts of a dreamy electronic opera, using digital kanun sounds to punctuate her woozy, evocative synths. Soleimen joins on tenor sax in the third act, while Sarkissian repeats the chant and Jace Akira adds ghostly traces of electric guitar and bass. And on the rousing ‘Our Dead Can’t Rest (Old Jugha Flute Dance)’, Sarkissian chops urgent davul and dhol drum rhythms with spine-chilling shvi woodwind sounds lifted from a documentary about Old Jugha. The title is a reference to the moving of graves by Armenian families; the area initially housed over 10,000 elaborately carved khachkars (cross stones), one of which is pictured on the album’s cover, provided by historian Argam Aivazian’s archive.

On ‘Miracle’, Sarkissian samples atmospheres from the post-Soviet Armenian comedy film ‘Կիսանդրի’ (Kisandri). She takes this opportunity to lighten the mood a little, powdering her smudged samples with tightly edited breaks and bass thumps. It’s not until the album’s middle section that the duduk, perhaps Armenia’s best-known instrument, makes its appearance. Its familiar reedy tones, popularized by Djivan Gasparyan on his many Hollywood soundtrack appearances, emerge on ‘Unraveling (Interlude)’, weaving through the acidic ‘Zephyr’ and ‘Far from the eye far from the Heart’, a post-punk inspired stomper. Sarkissian mutates the instrument almost beyond recognition, pitching and layering it into a voice-like wail that creeps between her woody, dancefloor-primed percussion on the former, and turning it into a gentle, ghostly moan on the latter. And she brings ‘Remnants’ to a close with two of her most cryptic tracks, marrying digital kanun strings with Soleiman’s resonant tenor hums on ‘What Solace Can I Give’, and looping the same saxophone sounds until they dissolve into the air on the beatless closer ‘…nothing matters more than touching you although i haven’t touched you yet’.

It’s an album that ties up Sarkissian’s various interests and experiences, finding a romantic, poetic glimmer of light in history’s darkness. But most of all, ‘Remnants’ is about the optimism of starting anew, and rebuilding a life from the pieces of everything that’s been left behind.

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

After navigating the labyrinthine musical chambers of their 2023 modern exotica album 'Palace Of A Thousand Sounds', Reno. Nevada’s Whatitdo Archive Group has returned with their first-ever holiday offering—venturing into the darker side of Christmas folklore with their new ice-cold 45, 'Wild Man'. Drawing inspiration from a global archetypical myth of the same name, Whatitdo Archive Group examines the ancient story of the Wild Man—the hairy, half-human, half-beast that stalks the shadows of humanity’s shared primeval past. The myth of the Wild Man is a folktale that goes by many names: The Yeti of the Himalayas, the Bigfoot of North America, and, of course, Krampus of Eastern Europe—a yuletide beast with a reputation as a child-devouring "Anti-Claus" who now finds himself the subject of Whatitdo’s latest musical exploration.

‘Wild Man’ gives us a glimpse into the band’s newest sonic direction. With a heavy rhythm section carried by Alexander Korostinsky’s driving bass line, the sticky wah-guitar of Mark Sexton’s L-5, and the acrobatic lines of the Wurlitzer electric piano, “Wild Man” revels in the spiritual jazz flavors of Pharoah Sanders and grooves hard like the classic soul-jazz stylings of Ramsey Lewis. Much like the Krampus myth itself, 'Wild Man' is meant to weave an ominous spell over any Christmas cocktail party long after the kids have gone to bed. Hear the warning for yourself in the song’s haunting chant: "You better watch out for your life, when the Wild Man comes in the night".

But mythology isn’t abandoned on the B-side. The band takes the traditional English folk melody 'Greensleeves' and reimagines it through the musical lens of Ethio-jazz. Recorded live at the Archive Group Studios, the track exudes a dark, roomy atmosphere, drenched in unease and mystery courtesy of the wandering electric piano dancing above the hypnotic rhythm section and mesmeric groove of the distant Batá drums. This fresh reimagining taps into the ancient, cross-cultural lineage of the "Green Man" myth, a pagan symbol of rebirth and the power of the natural world, further blurring the lines between holiday cheer and the primal, elemental forces enshrined in our collective cultural memory.

After the band’s 'Palace Of A Thousand Sounds' was named 2023’s "Best Library Record" by PopMatters Magazine, their new 'Wild Man' 7” capitalizes on the same creative process that shaped their last record, while now exploring new conceptual territory. By drawing inspiration from archaic global folklore and again utilizing their peculiar recording techniques, W.A.G. has crafted a truly unique holiday offering that unearths the darker, more primal undercurrents of the Christmas tradition. The 'Wild Man' 7" is released as part of the Snowflakes Christmas Singles Club, pressed on snow-white bio-vinyl and limited to 300 copies.

**Black vinyl. Gold foil-printed gatefold jacket** With its ethereal, buzzing acoustic riffs, helix of resonant drones and vocal delivery that often sounds like an ancient form of prayer, Julie Beth Napolin’s Only The Void Stands Between Us sure-footedly takes its place in the post-’70s experimental folk lineage. “This is cosmic folk of the highest caliber. Julie’s vocal melodies grow in your mind like they were planted on the shortest day of the year. An absolute treat for all of us temporal adventurers.” – Ben Chasny (Six Organs Of Admittance)

Lonely Planets Rec. is thrilled to announce label co-pilot Caim with his luring new EP Medusa Hunter. A deep dive into a sonic realm where ancient myth intertwines with futuristic soundscapes, Medusa Hunter invites listeners on a seductive journey through hypnotising layers of hissing rhythm and smouldering, Goa-inspired techno. This EP pulses with energy, as Caim masterfully blends trance-inducing melodies with venemous driving bass-lines, creating an atmosphere of ancient mystery and suspense. Each track coils and twists like the mythic Gorgo, luring us deeper into her sonic gaze where time dissolves and consciousness drifts. Rhythm and warmth and whisper seamlessly through the mesmeric soundscapes, igniting a primal sense of movement where sound and myth collide.

Woven together from home studio recordings that span two decades, and with some notable guest appearances including; The Bug, Douglas Leal of Deafkids, Wayne Adams of Petbrick, Dave French of Yob and Sanford Parker, this final part of the Harvestman Triptych seeks once again for a lost world, with the voice of poet Ezra Pound extolling the virtues of "gathering from the air a live tradition".
Cloudy Clear plus Black Galaxy effect vinyl in dub style jacket. Limited and Non-Returnable.
At its heart, music has always been a questioning of inheritance – a dialogue with predecessors and forebears, the forging of one’s own perspective in relation to what has come before, and for some, a plunge into the boundless realms between. For Steve Von Till, that process has always taken on an added dimension to become the most sacred of tasks. Whether through the apocalyptic uprising of Neurosis, the sonic deconstructions of their sister project, Tribes of Neurot, the invocatory intimacy of his eponymous solo albums or his instrumental psychedelic reveries in the guise of Harvestman, that dialogue has never just been with musical influences, but with what underpins them: the primordial, elemental forces now banished to the peripheries of our contemporary consciousness, yet still broadcasting a signal for all who will listen.

Drawn to the megaliths, ruins and ancient sites mapped out along the British and European mainland’s geographical and psychic landscapes, the folklore and apocrypha forever resurfacing as portals from a rational world, Triptych is a meditation forged from traces and residues, and an hallucinatory recollection of artists who have tapped into that enduring otherworldliness embedded within us all. It’s a dream diary narrating a passage through Summer Isle where Flying Saucer Attack are wafting out of a window, a distant Fairport Convention are being remixed by dub master Adrian Sherwood, celestial scanners Tangerine Dream are trying to drown out Bert Jansch and Hawkwind are playing Steeleye Span covers, all prised out of time yet bound to its singularity.

"Herne's Oak" provides seismic bass waves that physically halt the track in its steps - giant footfalls as Herne's antlers themselves are dragged along a corridor. Another curious and mysterious piece of British folklore brought to life by Harvestman.

If Triptych is a multi- and extra-sensory experience, it extends to the remarkable glyph-style artwork of Henry Hablak, a map of correspondences from a long-forgotten ancient and advanced civilization. As with Triptych itself, it’s an echo from another time, an act of binding, a guide to be endlessly reinterpreted, and a signpost to the sacred that might not indicate where to look, but how.

Cover art is by Henry Hablak, who also designed the art for Part One and Part Two.

Robin Carolan's latest soundtrack for Robert Eggers' highly anticipated Nosferatu is a haunting, gothic-infused and meticulously crafted work that draws from a vast palette of sounds, instruments, and inspirations. Following their successful collaboration on The Northman, Carolan reunites with Eggers to bring the legendary tale of Nosferatu to life, infusing the film with a score that is as complex and nuanced as the story itself. With Daniel Pioro, one of Britain's most exciting young classical musicians, at the helm as the orchestra leader and first chair for a vast majority of the recording, the soundtrack features a vast orchestration, including 60 string players, a full choir, various horns and woodwinds, a harpist, and two percussionists. Despite the grandeur of the orchestration, one of the most challenging pieces was the music box used at the film's beginning. Carolan and Eggers struggled to perfect its sound, a process marked by their meticulous attention to detail, which Carolan describes as almost telepathic. Set in the 1800s, Nosferatu allowed Carolan to incorporate contemporary instrumentation, though he made a deliberate effort to ensure the score didn't sound overly modern. Letty Stott, who also worked on The Northman, contributed ancient horns and pipes, enhancing the soundtrack's eerie atmosphere. Additionally, percussionist Paul Clarvis custom-built a toaca-like instrument for added authenticity. Carolan's inspirations for the soundtrack were as eclectic as they were profound. He frequently drew upon the works of Bartok and Coil, while films like The Innocents, Angels and Insects, and Eyes Wide Shut provided cinematic inspiration. Additionally, he explored the more obscure side of Hammer Horror soundtracks and found a deep connection to the music of the Ukrainian film The Eve of Ivan Kupalo, which helped shape the score's otherworldly tone. Carolan intentionally moved beyond the typical horror score, focusing on capturing the tale's melancholy and tragic elements while weaving in a sense of warped romanticism. The result is a soundtrack that not only complements the film but also stands on its own as a testament to Carolan's artistry and the enduring power of collaboration.

Robin Carolan's latest soundtrack for Robert Eggers' highly anticipated Nosferatu is a haunting, gothic-infused and meticulously crafted work that draws from a vast palette of sounds, instruments, and inspirations. Following their successful collaboration on The Northman, Carolan reunites with Eggers to bring the legendary tale of Nosferatu to life, infusing the film with a score that is as complex and nuanced as the story itself. With Daniel Pioro, one of Britain's most exciting young classical musicians, at the helm as the orchestra leader and first chair for a vast majority of the recording, the soundtrack features a vast orchestration, including 60 string players, a full choir, various horns and woodwinds, a harpist, and two percussionists. Despite the grandeur of the orchestration, one of the most challenging pieces was the music box used at the film's beginning. Carolan and Eggers struggled to perfect its sound, a process marked by their meticulous attention to detail, which Carolan describes as almost telepathic. Set in the 1800s, Nosferatu allowed Carolan to incorporate contemporary instrumentation, though he made a deliberate effort to ensure the score didn't sound overly modern. Letty Stott, who also worked on The Northman, contributed ancient horns and pipes, enhancing the soundtrack's eerie atmosphere. Additionally, percussionist Paul Clarvis custom-built a toaca-like instrument for added authenticity. Carolan's inspirations for the soundtrack were as eclectic as they were profound. He frequently drew upon the works of Bartok and Coil, while films like The Innocents, Angels and Insects, and Eyes Wide Shut provided cinematic inspiration. Additionally, he explored the more obscure side of Hammer Horror soundtracks and found a deep connection to the music of the Ukrainian film The Eve of Ivan Kupalo, which helped shape the score's otherworldly tone. Carolan intentionally moved beyond the typical horror score, focusing on capturing the tale's melancholy and tragic elements while weaving in a sense of warped romanticism. The result is a soundtrack that not only complements the film but also stands on its own as a testament to Carolan's artistry and the enduring power of collaboration.

Last Dinosaurs has found a rhythmic succession over the last decade, one that’s plucked them out of Australia, pulled them through the eye of the European needle, off to write in ancient Japanese ghost towns, onto America’s most iconic stages, and somehow grounded them in the middle of a sacred loophole - a ring of fire, really - that few artists find. They call it a loophole because it hasn’t been linear, it hasn’t been promoted, it hasn’t been announced and popularized and pushed through the press. Blame it on the Latino and Asian kids streaming the sh*t out of their trifecta of indie-rock records or the internet’s international party knuckles banging at their digital door 24/7, but Last Dinosaurs are erupting. They’ve all felt it onstage and backstage in every sold-out sanctuary of sound they have ripped through.