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Drummer-composer Tom Skinner announces Kaleidoscopic Visions, his second solo album, out 26th September 2025 via Brownswood Recordings and International Anthem

Kaleidoscopic Visions unfolds across two distinct sonic landscapes. Side A presents entirely instrumental compositions performed by Skinner's live Bishara band—bassist Tom Herbert, cellist Kareem Dayes, and Robert Stillman and Chelsea Carmichael on various woodwinds and reeds—with electric guitar on two tracks courtesy of Portishead's Adrian Utley. A drummer-composer bringing his wealth of experience to bear on the role of bandleader, Skinner composed primarily on guitar, embracing the freedom that came with writing on his secondary instrument.
These compositions include "Auster," dedicated to late novelist Paul Auster, and "Margaret Anne," which honours Skinner's mother Anne Shasby, a former classical concert pianist prodigy who abandoned her own promising career in the face of systemic misogyny, only to impart on her son what Skinner calls "the gift of music."

Skinner’s musical world opens further on Side B, where a collection of poised vocal collaborations stretch out from jazz and improvisation towards a more dream-like, soulful sound. The centerpiece is "The Maxim," a ten-minute collaboration with Grammy Award-winning Meshell Ndegeocello, a dubby, spacious meditation on life and death, delivered with a free-spirited grace. For Skinner, working with Ndegeocello—whom he first saw at Glastonbury as a teenager in 1994—represents a full-circle moment, indicative of the indirect paths and inspirational detours that have shaped his life.
The album goes on to feature South Carolina-based singer Contour (Khari Lucas) who appears on the low-lit soul ballad ‘Logue’, and closes with ‘See How They Run’, featuring London keyboardist-vocalist Yaffra (Jonathan Geyevu). It is the album’s most overtly lyrical track, an articulate exposition of jazz-inflected spoken word that speaks not only to the genre-fluid nature of the music but the breadth of Skinner’s palette.
This should come as no surprise. On Kaleidoscopic Visions, one of London’s most vital musical figures gives us a sparkling glimpse of the multi-coloured lens through which his unique sound is now refracting.

After a ten-year absence that left a palpable void in the hearts of millennial emo kids, MOTION CITY SOUNDTRACK are finally back-and yes, it"s everything we hoped for. The Same Old Wasted Wonderful World feels like coming home: a dizzying, emotionally articulate blast of guitar-laced pop-punk that reminds us why this band meant so much in the first place. It"s a sonic time machine, sure, but it never gets stuck in the past. Instead, it builds on it-older, a little bruised, but somehow more alive. Justin Pierre"s voice still wobbles gloriously between a scream and a sigh, only now it carries the weight of experience, not just anxiety. Rather than reinventing themselves, MOTION CITY SOUNDTRACK double down on what they"ve always done best: big hooks, bigger feelings, and that perfect tightrope walk between chaos and control. Tracks like "Particle Physics" (with Patrick Stump of Fallout Boy) and "Your Days Are Numbered" (featuring Mat Kerekes of Citizen) channel the kind of clarity that only comes after surviving your own worst years. In a world drowning in lazy nostalgia, The Same Old Wasted Wonderful World is a rare and welcome return that feels less like a reunion and more like a long-overdue continuation.

After a ten-year absence that left a palpable void in the hearts of millennial emo kids, MOTION CITY SOUNDTRACK are finally back-and yes, it"s everything we hoped for. The Same Old Wasted Wonderful World feels like coming home: a dizzying, emotionally articulate blast of guitar-laced pop-punk that reminds us why this band meant so much in the first place. It"s a sonic time machine, sure, but it never gets stuck in the past. Instead, it builds on it-older, a little bruised, but somehow more alive. Justin Pierre"s voice still wobbles gloriously between a scream and a sigh, only now it carries the weight of experience, not just anxiety. Rather than reinventing themselves, MOTION CITY SOUNDTRACK double down on what they"ve always done best: big hooks, bigger feelings, and that perfect tightrope walk between chaos and control. Tracks like "Particle Physics" (with Patrick Stump of Fallout Boy) and "Your Days Are Numbered" (featuring Mat Kerekes of Citizen) channel the kind of clarity that only comes after surviving your own worst years. In a world drowning in lazy nostalgia, The Same Old Wasted Wonderful World is a rare and welcome return that feels less like a reunion and more like a long-overdue continuation.

Can a self-portrait be a collage? Can empathy be autobiographical? What's the point of living if we're not trying to understand all the horror and humor that surrounds everything? These are a few of the questions lurking under the bleachers of Wednesday's new album Bleeds, an intoxicating collection of narrative-heavy Southern rock that_like many of the most arresting passages from the North Carolina band's highlight reel so far_thoughtfully explores the vivid link between curiosity and confession. Bleeds is not only the best Wednesday record_it's also the most Wednesday record, a patchwork-style triumph of literary allusions and outlaw grit, of place-based poetry and hair-raising noise. Karly Hartzman_founder, frontwoman, and primary lyricist_credits Wednesday's tightened grasp on their own identity to time spent collaborating on previous albums, plus a tour schedule that's been both rewarding and relentless. "Bleeds is the spiritual successor to Rat Saw God, and I think the quintessential `Wednesday Creek Rock' album," Hartzman said, articulating satisfaction with the ways her band has sharpened its trademark sound, how they've refined the formula that makes them one of the most interesting rock bands of their generation. "This is what Wednesday songs are supposed to sound like," she said. "We've devoted a lot of our lives to figuring this out_and I feel like we did." Just like Rat Saw God, one of the defining rock & roll records of the 2020s so far, Bleeds came together at Drop of Sun in Asheville and was produced by Alex Farrar, who's been recording the band since Twin Plagues. Hartzman again brought demos to the studio, where she and her bandmates _X andy Chelmis (lap steel, pedal steel), Alan Miller (drums), Ethan Baechtold (bass, piano), and Jake "M.J." Lenderman (guitar) _ worked as a team to bulk-up the compositions with the exact right amounts of country truth-telling, indie-pop hooks, and noisy sludge. More than ever, the precise proportions were steered by the lyricism_not only its tone or subject matter, but also the actual sound of the words, as well as Hartzman's masterfully subjective approach to detail selection. Every image or scene is filtered through Hartzman's agile, writerly brain. The particulars deemed essential all contain revelations about Hartzman's specific obsessions and vulnerabilities, about the fragmented way she processes the world. Maybe sometimes the best way to locate truth or pain or dignity within your own life story, Bleeds suggests, is by crawling into someone else's.

Can a self-portrait be a collage? Can empathy be autobiographical? What's the point of living if we're not trying to understand all the horror and humor that surrounds everything? These are a few of the questions lurking under the bleachers of Wednesday's new album Bleeds, an intoxicating collection of narrative-heavy Southern rock that_like many of the most arresting passages from the North Carolina band's highlight reel so far_thoughtfully explores the vivid link between curiosity and confession. Bleeds is not only the best Wednesday record_it's also the most Wednesday record, a patchwork-style triumph of literary allusions and outlaw grit, of place-based poetry and hair-raising noise. Karly Hartzman_founder, frontwoman, and primary lyricist_credits Wednesday's tightened grasp on their own identity to time spent collaborating on previous albums, plus a tour schedule that's been both rewarding and relentless. "Bleeds is the spiritual successor to Rat Saw God, and I think the quintessential `Wednesday Creek Rock' album," Hartzman said, articulating satisfaction with the ways her band has sharpened its trademark sound, how they've refined the formula that makes them one of the most interesting rock bands of their generation. "This is what Wednesday songs are supposed to sound like," she said. "We've devoted a lot of our lives to figuring this out_and I feel like we did." Just like Rat Saw God, one of the defining rock & roll records of the 2020s so far, Bleeds came together at Drop of Sun in Asheville and was produced by Alex Farrar, who's been recording the band since Twin Plagues. Hartzman again brought demos to the studio, where she and her bandmates _X andy Chelmis (lap steel, pedal steel), Alan Miller (drums), Ethan Baechtold (bass, piano), and Jake "M.J." Lenderman (guitar) _ worked as a team to bulk-up the compositions with the exact right amounts of country truth-telling, indie-pop hooks, and noisy sludge. More than ever, the precise proportions were steered by the lyricism_not only its tone or subject matter, but also the actual sound of the words, as well as Hartzman's masterfully subjective approach to detail selection. Every image or scene is filtered through Hartzman's agile, writerly brain. The particulars deemed essential all contain revelations about Hartzman's specific obsessions and vulnerabilities, about the fragmented way she processes the world. Maybe sometimes the best way to locate truth or pain or dignity within your own life story, Bleeds suggests, is by crawling into someone else's.

"Hyperglyph" is the first new album in 11 years from composer/trumpeter/synthesist Rob Mazurek and composer/percussionist Chad Taylor"s long-running Chicago Underground Duo project. Mazurek and Taylor have played music together in a multitude of formations over nearly three decades, including their ongoing partnership in Mazurek"s large-format-skyward-expressionism vehicle Exploding Star Orchestra, in the expanded Chicago Underground Trio, Quartet and Orchestra (all with guitarist Jeff Parker), as well as a plethora of other assemblages. The early albums by the Duo have proven to be embryonic blueprints for the avant-jazz / electronic / indie rock hybridizing of the time, making them majorly important moments in the articulation of the "jazz" dimensionality of the then-burgeoning "post rock" sound. That sound, of course, was being transmitted far and wide due to the success of these groups as well as the Mazurek/Parker project Isotope 217, and the Chicago Underground"s frequently-intersecting collaborators in Tortoise. Just as most of the still-working projects born of that era have evolved, reconfigured, and grown, the Chicago Underground Duo has undergone a number of musical moltings, with the project always in the background of disparate individual aural investigations. The concurrent personal evolutions of Mazurek and Taylor as the Duo project drops off and picks back up makes it a true reflection of their own lives and friendship.

Students of Decay presents The Dip, a new full-length recording by Berlin-based artist and composer Thomas Ankersmit, marking his debut with the label and sixth album to date. Comprised of two expansive, sidelong pieces composed entirely on the Serge Modular synthesizer, it signals a subtle yet significant shift in Ankersmit’s trajectory, imbuing the hyper-physical, psychoacoustic intensities of his live performances with introspective, atmospheric, and even melodic elements.

Primarily known for a site-responsive approach to sound, often realized in the moment of performance, Ankersmit’s turn toward the studio in the last few years has opened up a new dimension within his practice. It is in this quiet rupture that The Dip emerged, a study in internality and suspended states, rich with cinematic undercurrents and ghostly spatial suggestion. Here, electricity itself feels transfigured – becoming supple, even organic – within an environment shaped entirely by analog signals.

Over the past two decades, Ankersmit has established himself as one of the foremost practitioners of the Serge, the notoriously idiosyncratic and expressive instrument that has remained central to his work. On The Dip, he harnesses its potential not for brute force or disorientation, but for spaciousness, resonance, and lyrical abstraction. Without resorting to additional processing or effects, he draws out tones that feel simultaneously raw and refined, articulated and blurred – intricate structures that seem to breathe and evolve of their own volition.

The result is a kind of auditory hallucination, a “cinema for the ears,” wherein impressions, emotional arcs, and imagined topographies unfold. Each side of The Dip plays like a single gesture unfolding in time – a spatial narrative constructed through vibration, density, and the movement of air.

The Dip follows acclaimed works on PAN, Touch, and Shelter Press, and reaffirms Thomas Ankersmit’s position as one of the most focused and probing voices in contemporary experimental music. Quietly radical and meticulously constructed, it is less a departure than a deepening – a descent into a more private sonic world, where the boundaries between perception, memory, and pure signal dissolve.

Experience the Double-Platinum 1996 Album in Audiophile Sound for the First Time
Mobile Fidelity’s Numbered-Edition 180g 45RPM 2LP Set Is Sourced from the Original Analogue Tapes
1/2” / 30 IPS analogue master to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe

If great art, as many believe, is inherently polarizing, then the Stone Temple Pilots’ Tiny Music… Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop easily ranks as the California-based band’s finest album. Simultaneously celebrated and castigated upon release in spring 1996, the group’s third full-length finds vocalist Scott Weiland and company expanding their “grunge” palette with a smart blend of glam rock, psychedelia, jangle pop, and other related styles. Having benefited from long-view reassessments that shed the biases and meanness of initial criticisms, the double-platinum effort is now largely and rightly seen as a creative masterwork. All the more reason why it deserves reference-grade production.

Overseen by producer Brendan O’Brien, Stone Temple Pilots used bedrooms, hallways, bathrooms, and the lawn to capture a broad blend of textures, spaciousness, and ambience that helped underline the group’s obvious (and somewhat unexpected) leap from normal “alternative” status to an artist whose aspirations went beyond that of many of its contemporaries. You can hear the multitude of details and tonalities with previously unattained clarity, presence, and scope on this fantastic reissue, which also delivers the impact and punch every rock record deserves. Another tremendous asset: The depth, grain, and pitch of Weiland’s voice.

For all the contagious choruses and glossy melodies that help make Tiny Music… Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop sparkle, the vocal performances of the late singer arguably rank as the best that the much-missed Weiland committed to tape. None other than the Smashing Pumpkins’ Billy Corgan — who, like many peers and critics, felt a pressing need to reevaluate the record as both time marched on and the self-importance attached to the “alternative” scene faded — praised Weiland’s efforts by noting: “Like Bowie can and does, it was Scott's phrasing that pushed his music into a unique, and hard to pin down, aesthetic sonicsphere.”

Smooth and diverse, those traits are everywhere on Tiny Music… Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop. From the clever combination of emotional closeness and distance he brings to the catchy albeit ultimately melancholic “Lady Picture Show”; to the lounge-fly balladeering that causes “And So I Know” to lightly swing akin to a bleary-eyed house band’s final number at a 4 A.M. bar; to the effortless cool and laissez-faire casualness he articulates on the grinding “Pop’s Love Suicide”; to the dimensional raspiness, defiant energy, and let-loose wail that sail through the crunchy “Big Bang Baby.”

The latter tune, the record’s first single and per Weiland a conscious attempt by the band to deconstruct its prior approaches, clearly borrows from the Rolling Stones’ “Jumpin’ Jack Flash.” Because of it, the song drew all kinds of barbs from naysayers. Their disdain extended to most material on Tiny Music… Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop, which indirectly references other prized acts such as the Beatles, Cheap Trick, T. Rex, and Lush. Those cynics failed to grasp that Stone Temple Pilots were paying homage and having a blast, with even Weiland, then battling serious substance-abuse and legal issues, getting in on the action.

Stone Temple Pilots’ skeptics also turned a deaf ear to the records’ stellar pop craftsmanship, sticky hooks, and sly commentary on music-industry machinations and fame. Not to mention the band’s intent, made clear from the outset. In an interview conducted in 1994, guitarist Robert DeLeo stated: “The last thing I wanted to do with this band was make everybody believe we invented something.”

Seen through that lens and the hindsight afforded history, and appreciated independent of the self-righteous authenticity standards of the day, Tiny Music… Songs from the Vatican Gift Shop sounds borderline fearless while authoritatively checking all the right boxes for fun, flavor, and finesse. Part winking send-up, part tribute to the glitter rock age, and part middle finger towards the hip crowd that didn’t know what they were missing, this mid-90s classic repeatedly invites you to drop the needle and press play.

Black Vinyl LP. The world has changed, we shouldn't try and pretend otherwise. While we were shut away in isolation our routines shifted, social patterns evolved, and our hopes and dreams were twisted into cobwebs we're still trying to wipe from our fingers. Ziúr tentatively approached this on her last album Antifate, an ambitious and complex hybrid pop fever dream that looked back to a Medieval escapist fantasy as the scent of revolution seemed to hum in the air. But when restrictions were eased, she found herself staring down a discombobulated society that had trapped itself in a spiral of microwaved nostalgia and detached, narcotic repetition. Eyeroll then is Ziúr's musical panacea, a tincture to wake us from our creative slumber and prompt external connection and reflection. It's a polyphonous hex that demands human interaction, and Ziúr's hand-picked alliance of collaborators - Elvin Brandhi, Abdullah Miniawy, Iceboy Violet, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef, and James Ginzburg - each provide distinct voices that together herald a bewildering sonic epoch. Ziúr's palette had to evolve to match the scope of the project, but it was pure necessity that informed the album's defining tone. Recording mostly at night, Ziúr was conscious of the noise she was making so developed a unique way to record organic percussion. Using a set of rototoms - low profile tunable drums - she scratched, scraped and gently tapped the skins to build up the undulating and unstable rhythmic backdrop for each track. It's the first sound we hear on the opener 'Eyeroll', rattling like lost marbles against Elvin Brandhi's primal croaks and screams. And when Brandhi's twisted articulations form words, Ziúr matches the energy with chaotic thuds and serrated blasts of saturated electronics. "I roll the shittiest cigarette," she squeals like she's about to start a mosh pit at Paris's GRM Studios. Without pause, Abdullah Miniawy takes over on 'Malikan', building on the promise of material with Simo Cell, Carl Gari and HVAD with corrosive trumpet blasts and charged, politically incendiary Arabic vocals. Inspired by pre-Islamic poetry and the Qu'ranic chanters he heard growing up in Saudi Arabia and Egypt, he spins labyrinthine stories that cross between the worlds, breaking down physical and spiritual borders simultaneously. Miniawy's scope is expanded even further on his second collaboration, 'If The City Burns I Will Not Run'. "If it rains and the city drowns," he utters over gaseous electronics, "I will not run away, but I will be anxious for the heart of one close to me." After a supple vocal turn from Manchester's Iceboy Violet on 'Move On' and a surreal interlude from poet- DJ-artist-theorist Juliana Huxtable on '99 Favor Taste', Brandhi returns with two more hyperactive collaborations: ,'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote'. On the former she slices into Ziúr's skeletal jazz eruptions, screaming and crooning interchangeably, fluxing between the rap battle and the cabaret. The latter is completely different meanwhile, with Brandhi settling into her role as front-woman and groaning dizzying improvised passages that sound like grunge crossed with psychedelic no-wave. Brandhi's spiky musical history has prepared her well for this collaboration; she's a prolific producer and has been using her voice spontaneously since debuting with father-daughter improv duo Yeah You in the mid 2020s. She's found an ideal foil in Ziúr, a producer who matches her restless energy and willingness to bend formality, and leaves an indelible mark on Eyeroll. But the album's most tender moments are from Ziúr herself, who winds the album down on 'Hasty Revisionism', growling over collapsible beats and cascading strings, and comes to an unexpected conclusion with country coda 'Lacrymaturity'. Its feverish amalgamation of country music and euphoric, experimental electronics might seem incongruous at first, but in context with the rest of the album is the only possible conclusion. With Eyeroll Ziúr is making a firm statement about togetherness, humanity, and the renewal of hope when all seems lost. By bringing together such a wide but philosophically harmonic team of collaborators, she's conducted a body of work that speaks to the creative fringe in no uncertain terms. Now's the time to throw away what you think you know, and build bridges you didn't think you need. Now's the time for action. She may have spent her entire career avoiding the solipsistic trappings of "queer art", but by assembling a communal statement that questions so many normative assumptions about music, politics, and beyond, Ziúr has chanced upon her queerest album yet. Cringe? Eyeroll.

If there is one quality that best sums up the personality and music of Michel Petrucciani, it is generosity.
It was on stage, in the moment, in close proximity to the audience, in the warm intimacy of a club setting, that he most truthfully expressed his passion for sharing.
Many musicians, he confessed, play too selfishly. They play only for themselves and a few happy few. I play to please and to communicate. I’d like to think I’m a very happy person.

That’s why it’s essential for me to transmit and give others the generosity that is vital in art, music, and life.”
This is proven by these magnificent moments captured live in 1997 in Tokyo.
Accompanied by Anthony Jackson and Steve Gadd - two close friends with whom he shared an almost telepathic musical relationship - Michel Petrucciani delivers an intense hour of pianoforte, performing both standards and original compositions to unleash his boundless generosity and sensual lyrical expression live on stage.

Once again, one is struck by the solar clarity of his phrasing, the vigour and percussive precision of his touch (this master of tempo played ‘deep in the note’), and the breadth of his long lines where each note remains distinct and articulate. Michel infused everything he played with great emphasis and nuance - but above all, with sincerity. His heart sang immediately through the piano. This record is the most brilliant demonstration of that.
· Until now, this album had never been released on vinyl. Now available as a 180g double vinyl edition, mastered specifically for vinyl, housed in a 350g leather-textured sleeve with Struktura finish, offering an elegant texture and refined feel.

"Wind, Again" is Sary Moussa’s fourth studio album and second album on Other People. Based between France and Lebanon, Moussa returns with a riveting electro-acoustic album informed by his ever-changing relationships to space, listening, and resonance as well as his growing interest in the study of harmonics in electronic and electro-acoustic music.

Years in the making, “Wind, Again” approaches distinct musical worlds and languages by bringing together improvisations by musicians performing on Western and West Asian instruments such as the Hammond organ, clarinet, saz, and buzuk with electronic arrangements and textures. Rather than force a rapprochement of these musical worlds through the instruments, and keenly aware of the weighty sonic histories they carry, Moussa proposes another way through which they can exist together in contemporary electronic composition.

Composed of six tracks, each of which demonstrate an array of recording and processing techniques, the album generates moments of tension produced by the synthesis of textural, tonal, and harmonic encounters that Moussa calls “shadows”, which outline an impressionistic musical language, existing at the edge of familiarity. Such moments permeate tracks like “Everywhere at once” and “Violence” that open with the Hammond organ and the saz respectively and slowly reveal an expansive field of sounds that showcases each of the musicians’ characteristic performances and Moussa’s densely layered textures. It is a latent yet unrelenting tension through which the composer invokes rather than represents a collective experiential state, especially familiar to those who know his environment. In “Wind, Again” these shadows are articulations of sounds steeped in traditions they are never quite tethered to. Such articulations are implied and alluded to, they play within a musical reference without the latter explicitly existing in the recording, always teetering, never completely here nor there.
Sonically and musically, the album is fueled by the cultural, social, and personal realities that Moussa was brought up and lives in.

Both personal and musical ties with the musicians who feature on the album is central to Moussa’s practice. In the title track “I will never write a song about you”, musician Julia Sabra opens with rolled piano chords, followed by Paed Conca on clarinet and Abed Kobeissy on buzuk, before Moussa’s electronic processing pieces together, lifts, and sustains the melodic direction of the track that emerged from the musicians’ separate improvisations. For Moussa: “The initial connection between the three performances was made on a track that no longer existed, the original recording was both an obstacle and necessary step for the track we hear on the record. It’s as if we were all telling different stories and I pulled on the thread that held them together”. The track, and more generally the record, is tinged with a melancholy of things lost, though it never fully succumbs to it.
“Everything inside a circle”, Moussa’s most personal track and for which he provides the only vocals on the record, harkens back to a childhood memory of listening to music with his mother in a car: “There was a sound I was looking for — a memory of a sound and how I first heard it. This track is a hybrid of that memory and what I wanted to make of it”. The track relies heavily on generativesystems and perhaps embodies most the ambiguous quality of the record’s music in its refusal to be pinned down by one musical tradition or another.
“Wind, Again” is both familiar and alien, cold and warm; it pays homage to the mechanics, materials, and tactility of the instruments and converges acoustic and synthetic spaces. What anchors the sound of the album are the elements of a whole that cannot find its own idiosyncrasy and that is precisely why Moussa’s album is a tour de force.

“Ti Ho Sposato Per Allegria” (1967) is a comedy directed by Luciano Salce, taken from the theatrical play of the same name (1965) by Natalia Ginzburg. The main characters are Pietro and Giuliana, respectively interpreted by Giorgio Albertazzi and Monica Vitti. A lawyer from a good family, serious, accustomed to a calm and regular life who got married to a indolent and dazed girl with a difficult past a month after meeting her at a party. Despite Giuliana's inability to transform herself into a good housewife, his relationship with Pietro continues to flourish, because he seems to find enjoyment in each of his wife's many mistakes. The reason for their union lies not in love but, perhaps, in a genuine sympathy, as strong as it is mutual. The story has become a minor classic with each new representation. On both stage and screen the themes of everyday life, and the more complex and existential ones, are addressed. The subtle irony of the work relies on recounting problematic events in a carefree tone: realities such as abortion, death, separation and the couple's incommunicability are underplayed with naturalness. The funny events of the film are commented on by Piero Piccioni's music, published for the first time on vinyl by Musica Per Immagini, with an harmonious tracklist. For this first orchestra rehearsal with the director, which will be followed by other important soundtracks, the composer makes an effective and elegant synthesis: on the one hand he reworks moods and aesthetic intuitions of some previous and happy experiences, while on the other he identifies and anticipates the first bars of that unmistakable sound between bossa nova, funk and lounge nuances that will characterize almost all the production of the Seventies. In fact, the Turin-native artist simplifies in a positive sense the articulated harmonic structures that have always distinguished his authorial figure – where the so called jazz features are to be considered more than central in the musical texture, as prominent elements of the harmonic syntax – and he tries a melodic reduction that will make the compositions more catchy or memorized, but not easier for this. Lightness of spirit and rarefied elegance are the keys of this new Dionysian world.

During a month living with the Wampís in the Amazon Rainforest, Aboutface and the Wampís community collaboratively captured field recordings, music instrumentation and traditional Wampis Nampets – ancient songs sung from the perspective of animals living in their rainforest environment.

These recordings then informed 4 improvised performances to articulate the story of the 4 Nampet songs from within each animal's habitat, to depict nature and culture as inseparable, and to propose that humanity is not exclusive to humans but a multinaturalist characteristic available to all living organisms.

This is the first project of its kind in Wampís history and contains sound recordings of biodiversity that no longer exist due to deforestation.

Indigenous-managed Amazonian rainforests sequester around 340 million tonnes of CO₂ each year—equivalent to the UK’s annual fossil fuel emissions. In stark contrast, non-Indigenous-controlled forests have become sources of carbon emissions, therefore accelerating our global climate crises. Among the vital custodians of these precious ecosystems are the Wampís people, who protect 1.3 m ha of precious rainforest territory currently being decimated by mining for gold. This devastating practice is currently decimating Wampís territory, destroying their river habitats, leaving toxic methylmercury pollution that strips all biodiversity, contaminates the food chain, and causes widespread harm.

100% of all sales revenues from this release will directly go to the Wampís to protect their rainforest territory, to fund Wampís-led eco-initiatives against illegal mining, alongside ways to preserve Wampís cultural heritage– embedded in their songs, art and crafts, central to their conservation of their territory called The Iña Wampisti Nunke: A system of life that encompasses reciprocal relationships between humans, plants, animals, and spirits, central to the harmony of all its multi-dimensional ecology– which they term Tarimat Pujut.

For more project information, a short essay is provided alongside a nonstop-listening version of the album as part of the free Bandcamp download with every LP.


Credits

Nampet songs
Kutir, Wancha and Pinchichi by Elizabeth Huampankit Najamtai.
Manchi by Fernando Ijisam Tsakim.

Acoustic Percussion by Wampís band Guayabita
Fernando Ijisam Tsakim, Edilberto Ijisam Tello, Larry Tello Huampankit, Jose Luis Cahuata Pipa, Tedy Tello Cahuata, Heyner Tello Cahuata, Eli Artista Antonio, Never Tello Huampankit

Violin by Taro.

Peruvian bamboo quena, classical flute, acoustic guitar, electronics, composition and arrangement by Aboutface.

Original portrait painting of Fernando Ijisam Tsakim by Nyran Loomcal.
All other artworks, analogue photography and design by Aboutface.

Rainforest field recordings identified and collected by The Wampís of Guayabal and Aboutface.

'the fun years', comprised of multi-instrumentalists Ben Recht and Isaac Sparks, have been making music together since the turn of the century, producing intriguing interrogations of ambient, drone, post-rock, and turntablism. Originally released in 2008 on the now-defunct Barge Recordings, 'baby it’s cold inside' is perhaps the high watermark of their discography. Equally concerned with microtonal nuance and harmonic intensity, it is both a product of its time and something well past it. The chief protagonist is surely the turntable, deployed to create woolly, evocative loops from unidentifiable source material that recall, at times, the work of Philip Jeck or Jan Jelinek—churning, roiling, hissing, atrophied textures further articulated with nuanced processing and buoyed by baritone guitar drones and anti-riffing.

The title of opener "my lowville" feels like a wink to the famed slowcore duo, with spare post-rock motifs hovering in a dusty ether, slowly consumed by distorted washes of rich, harmonic sound. One of the most satisfying aspects of the album is that despite the recumbent nature of most of their sound design choices and compositional proclivities, Recht and Sparks are loath to sit still. "auto show of the dead" is a serpentine piano/guitar exploration full of subtle detail, preceding the immaculately titled "fucking milwaukee’s been hesher forever," in which the tactile delights of clicks+cuts are liberated from the laboratory and allowed to slum it in the world of tape gunk and '90s plate reverb. Later, "re: we’re again buried under" presents an inky black ambience that feels truly expansive and almost overwhelming, and closer “The Surge is Working” tears apart an anthemic shoegaze dirge at the seams, leaving only billowing filtered noise and negative space in its wake.

Presented here with a brilliant remaster by LUPO, 'baby it’s cold Inside should be considered alongside records like Belong’s October Language and Polmo Polpo’s Like Hearts Swelling—an arresting early aughts ambient marvel that warrants ongoing investigation.

The Scream, Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, was released late enough in the punk era to bear some claim as the first post-punk album, with only a minor traces of 'punk' (one lingering early song, "Carcass" comes to mind) and enough hints of what had come even earlier, Andy MacKay-like saxophone flourishes - to feel utterly new. Not to mention the effort producer Steve Lillywhite must have put into the album, his first fully-credited major label production. Siouxsie was clearly the focus of the band, with her unique vocal style and lyrics, but the real star, we've always known, was John McKay, who wrote most of the album's music (as well as singles like "Hong Kong Garden"), creating a wholly new guitar sound - harsh and brittle, yet melodically intoxicating . . . best articulated by a somewhat confounded Steve Albini years later ". . . only now people are trying to copy it, and even now nobody understands how that guitar player got all that pointless noise to stick together as songs". McKay's influence lives on; many of the most influential guitarists of the past four decades credit him as a major influence - Geordie from Killing Joke, Jim Reid of The Jesus And Mary Chain, U2's The Edge, Thurston Moore, Johnny Marr and even the two guitarists - The Cure's Robert Smith and Magazine's John McGeoch - who followed him in The Banshees. McKay's burgeoning status as the anti-guitar hero was halted when he and Banshees drummer Kenny Morris - at odds with Siouxsie and bassist Steve Severin - fled the band just after the start of a tour supporting the group's second album, Join Hands. It was a weekly music paper scandal, later the subject of a BBC documentary, and Siouxsie's vitriol working its way into the lyrics of a later Banshees b-side, "Drop Dead / Celebration". Aside from a solitary single on Marc Riley's In Tape label nearly a decade later, no music was heard from McKay again. So it comes as a major surprise to learn of a pile of excellent recordings made in the years just after he left The Banshees, unheard by all but a very few, some of which feature drummer Kenny Morris, plus Mick Allen from Rema Rema, Matthew Seligman of the Soft Boys and longer-term collaborator Graham Dowdall and John's wife Linda . . . the latter three of whom now all sadly deceased. Sixes And Sevens is an historic lost album. Brazenly genius and bearing fair claim as the lost treasure of the post-punk era, the album collects eleven studio tracks, carefully mastered from original tapes. It's a masterpiece which best speaks for itself.

Spacey Jane are an Australian indie rock band formed in Fremantle in 2016. Following a year-long hiatus from live performances, Spacey Jane announced in January 2025 that their third studio album, If That Makes Sense, would be released in May. It was announced alongside the release of lead single "All the Noise". If That Makes Sense explores the difficulty and uncertainty that arises when articulating any feeling across the full spectrum of human emotion. Having total knowledge that nobody is able to truly comprehend the complexities that life has presented to you, but still trying to get the words out anyway. If That Makes Sense is an emotional flip book through time, a set of flashbacks and vignettes, an attempt to rearrange the disorder into something ordered. Where you are today is the result of all these fragments and experiences. -Caleb Harper

The Scream, Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, was released late enough in the punk era to bear some claim as the first post-punk album, with only a minor traces of 'punk' (one lingering early song, "Carcass" comes to mind) and enough hints of what had come even earlier, Andy MacKay-like saxophone flourishes - to feel utterly new. Not to mention the effort producer Steve Lillywhite must have put into the album, his first fully-credited major label production.
Siouxsie was clearly the focus of the band, with her unique vocal style and lyrics, but the real star, we've always known, was John McKay, who wrote most of the album's music (as well as singles like "Hong Kong Garden"), creating a wholly new guitar sound - harsh and brittle, yet melodically intoxicating . . . best articulated by a somewhat confounded Steve Albini years later ". . . only now people are trying to copy it, and even now nobody understands how that guitar player got all that pointless noise to stick together as songs". McKay's influence lives on; many of the most influential guitarists of the past four decades credit him as a major influence - Geordie from Killing Joke, Jim Reid of The Jesus And Mary Chain, U2's The Edge, Thurston Moore, Johnny Marr and even the two guitarists - The Cure's Robert Smith and Magazine's John McGeoch - who followed him in The Banshees.
McKay's burgeoning status as the anti-guitar hero was halted when he and Banshees drummer Kenny Morris - at odds with Siouxsie and bassist Steve Severin - fled the band just after the start of a tour supporting the group's second album, Join Hands. It was a weekly music paper scandal, later the subject of a BBC documentary, and Siouxsie's vitriol working its way into the lyrics of a later Banshees b-side, "Drop Dead / Celebration". Aside from a solitary single on Marc Riley's In Tape label nearly a decade later, no music was heard from McKay again. So it comes as a major surprise to learn of a pile of excellent recordings made in the years just after he left The Banshees, unheard by all but a very few, some of which feature drummer Kenny Morris, plus Mick Allen from Rema Rema, Matthew Seligman of the Soft Boys and longer-term collaborator Graham Dowdall and John's wife Linda . . . the latter three of whom now all sadly deceased.
Sixes And Sevens is an historic lost album. Brazenly genius and bearing fair claim as the lost treasure of the post-punk era, the album collects eleven studio tracks, carefully mastered from original tapes. It's a masterpiece which best speaks for itself. John McKay will be made available for a limited number of interviews . . . and yes, there are surprises in store.

Following a trio of quick sell out, limited lathe cut 45 to kick off 2025, Feral Child now embark on a stash of more widely available full lengths (from the likes of Lake Ruth, The Jonny Halifax Invocation and Polypores amongst others). First up is a wonderful follow up to 2023’s “Refrains” 10” EP from Swedish band TAPE. “Refrains” figured in 2 or 3 notable UK stores’ end of year polls, noticeably Monorail in Glasgow where Stephen Pastel gave it a top 3 for 2023 nomination. “Preludes” is -if anything- even more majestic and acts as a superb follow up. The record is released 11th April on Feral Child as one time pressing 10” vinyl only release, featuring beautiful artwork once more from Peter Liversidge and the calligraphic hand of Klas Augustsson. The return of Swedish trio Tape has been reassuringly slow motion. They’ve always moved at their own pace, these three peripatetic musicians – brothers Andreas and Johan Berthling, and companion Tomas Hallonsten – though it’s been over a decade since their last full-length, 2014’s Casino. Not a disappearing act, rather a break for consideration, time to explore other avenues of creativity, perhaps… But their reappearance, with the Refrains 10”, was one of 2023’s most encouraging moments; doubly so, as it was proof they’d not lost their way, at all, in the intervening nine years. The Tape modus operandi is one of deceptive simplicity and artful innocence. On Preludes, a typically right, one-word Tape title, this means five wordless songs that move between fully fleshed out, lovingly tended folk threnodies – the beautiful opener, “Lights Out”, that spins webs via simple, hypnotically repeating guitar – and textural conceits that hover, appealingly, in a kind of no-place. “Naukluft Plateau” is lovingly dappled, with ruminative piano adrift on a cascading tonal waterfall. Then, feather-fall strums of guitar meet huffing harmonium and electronic scrum on the brief “Golden Gain”. Is there a more perfect song title for Tape than “Tangential Thoughts”? It sums up the way their music, nimble and dainty but also carefully tended, lends itself to the reverie, the meander, the anfractuous. The madeleine-like power of this song’s two-chord figure allows the music to take flight: rustling organ, oscillating cymbal, droplets of percussion, a spinney of sound. And Preludes slips away “On The Accordeon Bus”: there’s something lovely about the way that title collapses transit, articulation and bellows, reflected in the see-sawing sway and glitch-like rivulets of sound that course through the song. So, Preludes, then – alive to the moment, both gentle and sturdy. A copse of tone, and a most gorgeous wool-gathering.

Following the hyperactive “Blood Karaoke” (2022, Reading Group), “Performing Belief” builds rhythmic thickets from gathered sounds interwoven with synths, drum machines and other samples. Having built these rhythmic nests, Krivchenia then called on two contemporary mages of the low end: electric bassist and fellow Angeleno Sam Wilkes (Wilkes/Gendel) and double bassist/multi-instrumentalist from Krivchenia’s native Chicago, Joshua Abrams (Natural Information Society). Wilkes and Abrams bring the presence of a grounding human witness to the rhythmic undergrowth, providing a centering and even at times melodic voice to the gathering. This alchemy carries a profoundly fresh sense of time, blurring the edges of the quantized grid and the generic boundaries of electronic music.

The core of the album is a lush, opulent matrix of percussion ranging from the familiar—hand claps and drum machines—to the mysteriously verdant, sampled largely from Krivchenia’s own performed field recorded collection. For years, he would record any and all of his musical encounters with natural objects: performing on a particularly resonant log on a hike, throwing rocks into a pristine pond, tap dancing in the mud. This archive of “natural” sounds became the fertile soil out of which the tracks on “Performing Belief” grew. What is gained in the process is not just a novel set of sounds, but a new rhythmic language. The particular give, the anticipatory rustle, the extra breath of a hollow log when functioning as a kickdrum provides a greenness that overtakes the rhythmic grid, giving this music a peculiar kind of stickiness. This rhythmic language, set in Krivchenia’s long-fermenting electronic musical palate, feels like a revelation, even while it calls back not only to his wonderfully elastic timekeeping behind the kit with his beloved band Big Thief, but also to his prior work in computer music as well as his deep study and love of the vast human archive of drumming. “Performing Belief” is in good company in the rank and file of the legendary Planet Mu label. From the foundational early releases of the likes of Jega and Venetian Snares, to the contemporary envelope-warping work of Jlin and hundreds of brilliant releases in between, Planet Mu has been a beacon of forward-thinking rhythmic music for decades, informing Krivchenia’s own sense of the weird metaphysics of musical time since he was a kid. Krivchenia’s contribution to this history calls to mind the principle of organic danceability that subtends Mu’s whole catalogue, while bending our sense of rhythm in new and gracious dimensions. Krivchenia brings out the loamy complexity of natural rhythms, a clearing as generous as it is inviting. Let the drummer give you some.