Search:as if

Available for the first time since originally released in 2006 via Stones Throw, Dudley Perkins & Madlib are pleased for the reissue of their sophomore collaborative LP, Expressions (2012 A.U.), their acclaimed follow-up to their 2003 debut effort, A Lil’ Light. And albeit the former can be accused of being excessively avant-garde, it’s Expressions where both Perkins and the Beat Konducta find a more fluid symmetry.

In everything from his collaborations with MF Doom and the late Jay Dee to his more recent pairing with Freddie Gibbs, Madlib is easily one of hip-hop's golden revolutionaries. At times his production has been accused of being sparse, but that's not the case with Expressions. This time around, Madlib's production is hitting all the funky corners with layered grooves that evoke the attitudes and emotions of A Tribe Called Quest's The Low End Theory.

Perkins's objective to keep the grooves flowing on Expressions is laid down with first lines of opener "Funky Dudley": "A little bit of funk and a dash of soul/ A little bit of George borrowed from my Ol' gran' pappy's stack of old school/ One nation under a groove." From there on the funk samples dance famously with Dudley's vocal style, which cross-pollinates the worlds of D'Angelo and Ol' Dirty Bastard. From "Get on Up" to the James Brown vocal sample in "Dolla Bill," Expressions uses Perkins's voice as if it were a sample itself, incorporating it in the production and the rhythms.

Madlib's production works flawlessly, his semi-psychedelic influence on R&B, soul and hip-hop keeping Perkins's style fresh and original. All the parts seem to be in place on Expressions as producer and emcee work side-by-side to create a cohesive sound that not only represents the creativity of the underground but could also awaken the tired ears of the mainstream.

Fantastic masterpiece, considered one of the best Italo-Disco songs ever. A mega-classic produced by Stefano Zito and Carlo Favilli (the latter passed away too soon) characterized by a heartbreaking melody and lush strings that exemplify the mood and rhythm of the Italo-Disco style with the use of some sounds of pre-bleepy keyboard and siren that technically make it one of the very first rave songs ever, inspiring the style of many artists that came later, like Duft Punk. However, many of them don't even come close with their imaginative computers to that bassline and string sounds that melted the souls of many of us back in that distant April 1983, even if it seems that part of the melodic line has been copied not very subtly by Casco from that of El Deux's Computer-Madchen released in 1982 in Switzerland, where Salvatore Cusato was working as a club-DJ. On the flip another excellent remix version by Danilo Braca of the song revisited a few years later. The confirmation of the wisdom and foresight of its producers, aware that the BPM would soon be lowered by a lot. In the more than 8 minutes of "Cyberlover" the constant melancholy background together with the drum/bass/synth lines are preserved intact, giving us a complete reissued product.

Little Beat More, Do It Youssef, Not a Pub & Un Rêve Nu labels are glad to introduce ÈCH's latest work, a stunning display of musical mastery that will capture your heart and soul.
Led by Heddy Boubaker, the Toulouse-based band has created a sound that defies categorization, blending elements of free jazz and psychedelic afro-latin rhythm, and more to create a truly unique musical experience which they self described as "post-pfunk-afro-voodoo-weird-free-rock".

With 'Au nombre de joie' and 'Le bonheur des uns fait le malheur des autres', the ÈCH make up two little gems of music that take us back to a time when every note, every instrument was carefully thought out, down to the last detail, a time when music was made simply right.
The EP's artwork, created by painter, trumpeter and percussionist Walkind Rodriguez, represents with colors and shapes blending together to create oneiric flames, archetypal symbol of the band's soul, whose name is derived from a Hebrew word meaning 'fire'.

If you love music done with care, of musicians who pour their hearts and souls into every note, then you won't want to miss out on ÈCH's latest release. So sit back, close your eyes, and let the sound wash over you.

Richie Culver had been waiting his whole life to record I was born by the sea. His debut album immediately and messily inscribed the artist into the canon of outsider music and experimental electronics, serving both as an arresting statement of intent and a painful reckoning with the difficult path that lead up to it, stealing one last glance back at a place he always knew he had to escape. Between grim lamentations, faded memories and anxiety attacks, all told with searing honesty and disarming openness, I was born by the sea excavates a space for hope, finding Culver digging through Humberside silt to find a world weary optimism, the raw material from which his visual and sound art is shaped. For this collection of expansions and inversions, Culver invites a collection of kindred spirits, contemporary inspirations and old heroes to wade into the salt water of his formative years spent living for impromptu raves and afterparties, connecting vivid memories of his birth place of Withernsea to artists hailing from as nearby as Preston and Bridlington, further afield, from Manchester and London, Berlin and Paris, before returning back to Hull, to where it all began.

For some, responding to I was born by the sea means diving even deeper into the record’s furthest reaches. Space Afrika clear away the pummelling loops of noise from ‘It’s hard to get to know you,’ revealing a cool and cavernous expanse in its wake. Distant chatter, previously heard as though through thin, plasterboard walls, now echoes from outside the maddening claustrophobia of the original’s Sisyphean sonics, illuminated as a dense storm cloud suspended amidst a more open scene, washed clean by a lighter rain, allowing the tender heart of the track to beat clear. London producer MOBBS stretches out ‘Pigeon Flesh’ into an epic, 10-minute, cold-sweat spiral, strung-out tension wrung from disconnected phone tones twisted in unexpected directions, snatches of Culver’s voice turned inside-out and deep fried bass threatening to tip the track over into oblivion, the build-and-release of a nervous breakdown experienced in real time. In an act of subversive self-reflection, Morgane Polanski switches one kind of ennui for another in her adaption of ‘I was born by the sea,’ swapping the sea for the city, English seaside towns in January for summer evenings in Paris and flashing lighthouses and sparkling oil rigs for the Eiffel Tower and the traffic around L’Arc de Triomphe. Even Culver finds time to revisit ‘Dream About Yourself,’ a track taken from his EP Post Traumatic Fantasy, breathing new words into its glacial drift, the half-remembered testimony of a shut-in: Woke up in the evening / Pray for me / Don’t trust anyone / Pray for algorithm. Reframed in a more melancholy light, the track’s reverberant keys even more clearly evoke a mournful nostalgia, fresh pain felt in old wounds.

Others find a parallel universe in Culver’s visceral world building. Rainy Miller flips the script with a scorched, avant-drill rework of ‘Daytime TV’, threading puncturing hi-hats and queasy low-end surge through the track’s steady ambient cascade, invoking the irresistible Preston beat magic of Miller’s own essential debut album, Desquamation. Aho Ssan melts away the crystalline textures of ‘Love Like an Abscess’ with the ominous crackle of a nascent fire, building through swathes of organic Max/MSP squelch and brittle, nails-down-chalkboard scrape, swelling and metastasising the original to spill over Culver’s desperate hymn to corporeal desire, at once flesh and not. Teresa Winter transports us an hour up the coast from Withernsea to her native Bridlington, replacing the sea wall of synthesis on ‘Nervous Energy’ with muffled ASMR murk and fever dream whispers, transforming Culver’s unflinching observations into a haunting call-and-response, filling in the blanks with her own eerie utterances, a fleeting conversation with a ghost. In a touching victory lap, Fila Brazillia, eccentric stalwarts of beloved ‘90s trip hop imprint Pork Recordings, whose performances at Hull institution The Lamp convinced a young Culver of the necessity to make his mark on club culture, resurface for their first remix in 20 years. Steve Cobby and David McSherry lead a low-slung, heartfelt stroll back through a suite of tracks from I was born by the sea, tracing a full circle saunter from Culver’s origins to his current musical practice, the sounds of his present repurposed by the sound of his youth. In a gesture that reflects the emotional complexity of the project, Fila Brazillia find joy at the end of Culver’s troubled reflection, picking out an undeniable groove in the stasis of feeling trapped in your hometown. Underlining Hull’s vital musical legacy, from Baby Mammoth to Throbbing Gristle, Cobby and McSherry demonstrate that, though there are certainly storms, by the sea there is also sun and through the fog, if you listen, you can hear a singular sound, a sound now carried by Richie Culver.

Participant is a record label and creative studio run by William Markarian-Martin and Richie Culver

If you are a death metal fan, GRACELESS shouldn’t need an introduction. Three full lengths and two split EPs have granted the Dutch ensemble a respectable reputation across the globe. Closer to home, the four piece has played countless live shows since their 2016 inception. The rock solid line up -unchanged since day one- has delivered ferocious, high energy live performances at Eindhoven Metal Meeting, Into the Grave, Party San Metal Open Air, Ruhrpott Metal Meeting, Stonehenge, SDF2021 and many more festivals and clubs. Joining forces with LISTENABLE RECORDS in 2023 is the next thundering milestone for GRACELESS. Tirelessly working on their fourth full-length, the next chapter for GRACELESS will be another step deeper into the abyss that started with Shadowlands (2018), via Where Vultures Know Your Name (2020), to Chants from Purgatory (2022). For fans of DEATH, ASPHYX, GORGUTS, BOLT THROWER, AMON AMARTH, BLOODBATH.

In the quiet surrounding the pandemic, Madeline Kenney made sonic sketches in the basement studio she shared with her then-partner. She arranged phrases that called her—the sharp knife of a synth cutting a path along a blooming arpeggio, drums stuttering firm and tight. Working this way, she amassed a collection of songs she had no particular aims for. Some formed her 2021 EP Summer Quarter, others languished.

But in 2022, Kenney’s partner left suddenly and without warning, plunging her into the solitary act of untangling what happened. In the wake of her ensuing depression, she revisited these songs and found in them something prescient. She’d already laid the foundation for A New Reality Mind.

That her relationship’s end came without warning is only half true, though. The warnings were in the feelings and fears that inspired Kenney’s critically-acclaimed third album, Sucker’s Lunch (2020), which was co-produced by Jenn Wasner (Flock of Dimes) and centered around the idea of flinging oneself freely into the seemingly-assured destruction of new love, come what may.

If sonically Sucker’s Lunch was letting yourself be pulled into the warm bath of a good story, A New Reality Mind reflects the harsh light of truth coming to break the spell. But as sobering as morning light can be, there’s brilliance to it, too. To see in the clarity of day is a gift. A revolution. Rather than reckoning with love lost, the songs on A New Reality Mind grapple with the self that chose to fall. “I guess I only needed to look twice / Reflected in my attitude, my constant compromise,” Kenney sings on “Red Emotion,” the musical landscape screeching and gasping around her observations of how she made herself small to keep the dream of love alive.

These notions of sight and vision pervade the record as Kenney stands before the infinity mirror of selves she’s been to preserve bonds in her life. On “I Drew a Line,” Kenney contends with the stories she’s told herself to keep plodding along, and the way those stories shape her perceived reality. She invokes John Berger’s Ways of Seeing—“Everything around the image is part of its meaning,” we hear him say. “Everything around it confirms and consolidates its meaning.” Here, Kenney isn’t interested in shaming herself for being carried away by the fantasies of the heart, but rather in investigating the unavoidably human propensity to do so. “I, like everyone else, am muddling through my most ordinary disaster of a life,” she acknowledges, a sentiment which reverberates through album opener “Plain Boring Disaster.” “I don’t need to start again,” she sings at the song’s close. “But I can change when it ends.” We may all be doomed to repetitive, ordinary heartbreaks, Kenney realizes, but at least we can cultivate a capacity to witness our missteps and build new realities for ourselves.

This is Kenney’s most expansive work, while also her most solitary. Produced and recorded alone in her basement, these songs are manifestations of what it feels like to be transformed by pain. Textures collide and collude; sonic ornaments emerge and dissipate capriciously; saxophones soar untamed, as on the 80s pop elegy to self-sacrifice, “Reality Mind”. These songs beg you to dance, then pull the rug out from under you once you’ve caught the beat, leaving you dizzy like the whiplash of love’s end.

But in the propulsive power of A New Reality Mind, there’s also acceptance, self-forgiveness, and a willingness to move forward into life, with all its ways of making a sucker of you. “That way of living, I’m over it,” Kenney declares of the habits that hold her back on “Superficial Conversation”. “I do not need to be reminded of what I did,” she assures, the song opening wide and beaming, like a smile expanding to taste a new breath of air.

Three years after his last album ‘I Need Space’, Mounika. is back on his favorite playground: electronic music, which arouses his curiosity since his beginnings. He is now ready to unveil ‘Don't Look At Me’, a new opus that takes us, by other paths, to his unique universe. Recorded during the confinement in the intimacy of his home studio, the French artist reveals little by little another facet of his artistic personality, more raw and affirmed, without totally abandoning the cottony sounds already proposed on titles like ‘Cut My Hair’ (diamond single) or ‘Tender Love’ (gold single). We discover sensitive compositions, still inspired by his love for trip-hop, piano and artists who made his musical culture during his youth: Moby, Ratatat, Air or Bonobo. After all, a Mounika. album without a tribute to these figures is not really an album...

But something new was needed to distinguish this opus from the previous ones. From the very first tracks, we can clearly feel this need for exploration that has always guided the French producer. ‘BonXair’ or ‘Nomadics’ take us, for example, in a more straight electronic, more heady than usual. In the same spirit, the rhythms close to the deep house of a track like ‘See You Dancing In The Dark’ offer to the album a new direction, and yet is quite representative of the work undertaken by Mounika. these last years.

In this new record that will also satisfy the fans of the first hour (a sample loop well felt, as on ‘Little Love’ or ‘I Looked Into Her Eyes’, always makes its effect), the French artist has also opened to collaborations of choice. Mounika. works on the heart, and thus wished to welcome those who have particularly marked him during his more or less recent discoveries. The American artist Roland Faunte lends his voice to the effective ‘Little Love’, while Ural Thomas & The Pain (discovered notably on the series ‘It's Bruno’) takes care of the chorus of ‘I Looked Into Her Eyes’. The British rapper Lord Apex delivers a spellbinding performance on ‘Memories’.

Finally, if you listen carefully, you can even hear Mounika. singing on some tracks... like ‘20’ or ‘Don't Smoke’. Put together, these appearances perfectly complement the energy transcribed by Mounika. throughout ‘Don't Look At Me’.

And what could be better than an amazing graphic universe to open the doors of this album like no other? Meet Carl & TJ, two cartoonish characters created in collaboration with Berlin-based artist Joe Taylor, who take care of guiding the listener through this new adventure. One is dreamy and contemplative, the other asks himself a lot of questions... and between them, they form a colorful duet illustrating with tenderness the universal emotions that punctuate this third opus, and that Mounika. will notably defend in the first part of Wax Tailor's French tour starting next April.

The successive pianos composing the productions of ‘When In My Heart In Your Heart’ then ‘Outro’ come, at the end of the record, to conclude the setting in orbit proposed by this ‘Don't Look At Me’. One more step in the sensory journey that Mounika. is committed, from the intimacy of her room to the international success, to build relentlessly.

Classic madness and violence! Death Metal history, the ultimate edition! Death Strike need little introduction to anyone who would consider themselves seasoned in the realm of Death Metal, the legendary Paul Speckmann’s debut foray into the genre has garnered pretty much cult status now as a genre classic and not without good reason. This reissue of 1991 album compiles the debut demo from ‘85 together with four other tracks for the rather aptly titled “Fuckin’ Death”, and being brutally honest, could you possibly have a more suitable description for the sensory annihilation present on these recordings? It’s that fact that half this material was recorded back in the mid-eighties that really makes it stand out, Death Metal was still in its infantile stages back then with extreme metal making a transition between the Crust influenced filth of Hellhammer and the ilk to a more brutal strain with bands like Possessed and Slaughter emerging out of the underground with a significantly more potent and brutal form of metal unlike anything heard before, and when you realize it came out at the same time as two monumental releases by the aforementioned bands you wonder why the fuck it never got quite as much attention as it was just as influential if not more so than those classics. If you’re one of the unenlightened still wondering who the fuck Death Strike are, “Fuckin’ Death” was essentially just the first Master album under a different moniker, and along with Master’s debut and “On the Seventh Day...” are Death Metal classics. The first four tracks as previously mentioned are from 1985 and astonishingly ahead of their time. It’s basically ‘Hellhammer on crack’, fast brutal and utterly primal Death Metal with that huge hardcore influence shining through. Paul’s vocals are a maniacal and wretched reverbed howl that just add to the chaos conjured with Kirk’s unbridled leads, the d-beat styled drumming and thundering, bowel shaking bass. Songs like “Pay to Die” and “Re-Entry and Destruction” are impossible not to like, it’s extreme metal heaven (or hell, whichever you prefer), straight-forward, catchy and downright punishing.

When I first heard Natalie Rose LeBrecht's time-suspending, air-ionizing music, more than twenty years ago, I thought "this kid is on to something." She's been proving that thought right ever since. Her recordings, from the teenage 4-track tapes she made as Greenpot Bluepot to the recent albums under her own name, have been fascinating dispatches from her progressively deeper dives into her gorgeous, weird, wildly idiomatic aesthetic. Holy Prana Open Game is a jewel of intensely personal cosmic music, created through a remarkable process of openness, craftiness, addition and subtraction. It belongs to a tradition of albums that document a rich, meditative sound as it rises up to join the world outside its creators' minds: Alice Coltrane's Universal Consciousness, Harmonia's Musik von Harmonia, Philip Glass's North Star, Talk Talk's Laughing Stock.

"Meditative" is specifically the idea here: Holy Prana Open Game had its origins in the fourteen days LeBrecht spent silently meditating in her home's small music room in the summer of 2019. "I came out of that bursting with the will to create new music," she says, and she created it sound-first. LeBrecht taught herself to program an analog synthesizer's timbres from scratch, and built a new set of glacial, heady compositions out of them, eventually singing to accompany the keyboard parts she was playing.

Then she closed her eyes at her computer, "let my mind be clear and open, imagined light pouring down through me, and began auto-writing to my memory of the music playing through my mind. Most of the lyrics emerged this way, and then I used my conscious mind to refine them a bit at the end." One other song came along with LeBrecht's new pieces, a cover that seems wildly unlikely from the outside and makes total sense in its context: it's a version of Atoms for Peace's "Amok" (which had been created by improvisation and editing, too), mutated into her own idiolect.

In early March of 2020, LeBrecht recorded Holy Prana Open Game's analog synth parts with Martin Bisi at his studio in Brooklyn--and then the world shut down. As you may have gathered, LeBrecht is very much a spiritual, head-in-the-stars type. She is also extremely hardcore, and if making the art she wants to make means doing things the hard way, she cracks her knuckles and gets down to it. Within weeks, she had taught herself how to record, mix and edit with a digital audio workstation. She recorded her vocal parts (sometimes multi-tracked into a radiant choir) at home, assembled a rough mix of the album, and sent it off to her collaborators.

LeBrecht spent some years studying with and assisting La Monte Young and Marian Zazeela at their legendary sound-and-light installation, the Dream House. As with their work, her singular, precisely focused vision is shored up by its openness to artistic voices beyond her own. For Holy Prana Open Game, she worked with the Australian guitarist Mick Turner and drummer Jim White (both of Dirty Three, the Tren Brothers and innumerable other projects), as well as woodwind player David Lackner, a longtime presence on her recordings.

Turner and White have been playing together in one context or another since 1985; in the summer of 2020, they were only blocks from each other in Melbourne, Australia, whose strict lockdown meant they couldn't meet up to record together. So both of them, as well as Lackner, recorded their improvisational additions to LeBrecht's rough mixes individually, often without hearing each other's contributions. "I had asked them to play as much as they could on each track," she says, "and told them that I would edit it all down in post, so I had a lot of source material of theirs to work with."

LeBrecht arranged and edited the recordings from all four of their homes to flow together like breath across the duration of her suite. Prana, one of the album's central conceits, is in fact the Sanskrit word for breath, with the connotation of the breath of life. Like LeBrecht's music, prana flows at its own pace, and demands stillness to take in fully--but it's also subtly playful and surprising, a force that can be as light as air or as immersive as the atmosphere itself.

BABY BLUE VINYL

"Workin' all day, trying to forget about the old me." Like most of us, Martin Frawley is busy trying to work himself out. He lives alongside the long shadow of his late dad, musician and songwriter Maurice Frawley, a cultural icon of the Australian underground and collaborator of Paul Kelly, Tex Perkins and Mick Thomas. Most of Martin's 20s were spent writing and playing songs in locally beloved Melbourne band Twerps - a collection of pals who were on the forefront of the city's jangle pop renaissance. A few albums, US tours and band rotations under its belt, Twerps split up in 2018 and Martin turned his compass towards a solo project. His first album, Undone at 31 (2019), was a bit of a reckoning; a wild ride through the wreckage of both a band and longterm romantic break up. His new album The Wannabe is a personal, cheeky and, at times, self-depreiciating collection of songs unpacking the reality of finding his way as an adult without his dad around, and ultimately falling back in love with life, music and someone new. Martin and his band - friends Dan Luscombe (The Drones), Steph Hughes (Boomgates, Dick Diver), Nik Imfeld (Tyrannaman) and Dan Kelly - had heaps of fun recording The Wannabe in Melbourne. The title track is a particularly spicy take on an entertainment industry that seems to give more shits about marketing than music. The album is a bit of an emotional tour, from anger and derision, through to comedy, through to deep and honest love. It's positive with a lot of sadness. Not unlike Martin himself. As well as the guitar, Martin had some fun playing the piano on this record. The technical term is `multiinstrumentalist' but Martin's more of a musical explorer of sorts. No one is exactly sure how these things work - if Martin was born into music or if it was born into him, but it doesn't really matter. Music is what he loves. It's what he does. It's not about the industry or about success - not anymore. It's about the freedom of creating songs on his own terms, and trying to let go of the feeling he has something to prove: to his dad, to his critics, and to himself. And while he's not sure he'll ever fully shake that feeling, he's at least relaxing and having a bit of fun doing it. Like his dad, Martin has a reputation as a `musician's musician'. He hosts a pretty sporadic podcast Dive For Your Memory, where he has fast and loose chats with musicians while doing a deep dive into their musical inspirations and canon. He and his fiancé Lauren also make wine under the label El'More Wines, named after the farm and small town where his dad grew up. It's all come a bit full circle, really.

In the 1980s, Michael Morley helped to push the jangly New Zealand music scene towards rougher, more exploratory realms, as a member of Wreck Small Speakers on Expensive Stereos, The Weeds, and the almighty Dead C. His gnarled, distorted guitar tone and aggressively moan-based vocal style are both as distinctive as they are secretly beautiful. Morley has released dozens of solo recordings—starting in the late 1980s as Gate, then more recently under his own name, and as the Righteous Yeah. He’s also unafraid to tackle entirely new genres and sounds, and to move into interactive installation-based music as well. Birdman is beyond excited to present the first vinyl release of this archival Gate release. “...I think it is classic Gate material. The idea of the palette is fascinating as I think I did approach it with a set of limited instrumentation and the desire to make something again that could sound like rock music. There is certainly a direct line from Wreck Small Speakers On Expensive Stereos, through the Dead C, and to Gate. I think I was also inspired by listening to infamous and tragically short-lived early 1980s band the Double Happys, and remembering their performances as a duo with the drum machine. There was such utter chaos and anarchy during their sets, with a desire to represent punk rock at its nascent truth, I wanted to see if it was possible to re- imagine that feeling. I was possibly also listening to the Stooges and MC5. —Michael Morley

Did you know that if we go back 10 generations, we could count for each of us some 2,046 ancestors, going back 20 generations there would be 2.097.150 ancestors and going back 40 generations each of us would have more than a trillion ancestors, which is more than all the people who have ever lived on earth?

This complicated paradox, known as the Pedigree Collapse, however, leads to the simple conclusion that we all share at least one ancestor with each other.

Inspired by this reflection, "How many ancestors do we have?" is the latest EP by Woxow, sound mixologist and mastermind of Little Beat More, translating the concept into a profound journey in search of the roots of music, to find that ancestral vibration that has resonated in every human being since the dawn of time.

Jazz atmospheres, refined hip hop beats, world music overtones, dub rhythms and reggae reminiscences, all enriched by the dense and meaningful voices of London's Reggae RoastMC Natty Campbell, the eclectic and electric Raashan Ahmad and the legendary rapper and
performance poet Azeem, bringing to light the infinite connections that unite all humanity.

The album is further enriched by the precious remixes of underground legend Koralle, electronic shaman Deela, dub master Paolo Baldini Dubfiles, and gifted hip-hop head Luke Beats, who hybridise Woxow's ancestral vision with their skillful artistry, giving a new dimension to the tracks.

The artwork by visual artist and filmmaker Simone Brillarelli captures the essence of the album in a vibrant bloom of colourful flowers sharing the same soil, and ultimately the same planet, reiterating the message of shared family and unity that is celebrated in the music.

The EP is available both as a gatefold with two 7-inch vinyls and as a single 12-inch vinyl, as well as digital. Join the family now.

Did you know that if we go back 10 generations, we could count for each of us some 2,046 ancestors, going back 20 generations there would be 2.097.150 ancestors and going back 40 generations each of us would have more than a trillion ancestors, which is more than all the people who have ever lived on earth?

This complicated paradox, known as the Pedigree Collapse, however, leads to the simple conclusion that we all share at least one ancestor with each other.

Inspired by this reflection, "How many ancestors do we have?" is the latest EP by Woxow, sound mixologist and mastermind of Little Beat More, translating the concept into a profound journey in search of the roots of music, to find that ancestral vibration that has resonated in every human being since the dawn of time.

Jazz atmospheres, refined hip hop beats, world music overtones, dub rhythms and reggae reminiscences, all enriched by the dense and meaningful voices of London's Reggae RoastMC Natty Campbell, the eclectic and electric Raashan Ahmad and the legendary rapper and
performance poet Azeem, bringing to light the infinite connections that unite all humanity.

The album is further enriched by the precious remixes of underground legend Koralle, electronic shaman Deela, dub master Paolo Baldini Dubfiles, and gifted hip-hop head Luke Beats, who hybridise Woxow's ancestral vision with their skillful artistry, giving a new dimension to the tracks.

The artwork by visual artist and filmmaker Simone Brillarelli captures the essence of the album in a vibrant bloom of colourful flowers sharing the same soil, and ultimately the same planet, reiterating the message of shared family and unity that is celebrated in the music.

The EP is available both as a gatefold with two 7-inch vinyls and as a single 12-inch vinyl, as well as digital. Join the family now.

Did you know that if we go back 10 generations, we could count for each of us some 2,046 ancestors, going back 20 generations there would be 2.097.150 ancestors and going back 40 generations each of us would have more than a trillion ancestors, which is more than all the people who have ever lived on earth?

This complicated paradox, known as the Pedigree Collapse, however, leads to the simple conclusion that we all share at least one ancestor with each other.

Inspired by this reflection, "How many ancestors do we have?" is the latest EP by Woxow, sound mixologist and mastermind of Little Beat More, translating the concept into a profound journey in search of the roots of music, to find that ancestral vibration that has resonated in every human being since the dawn of time.

Jazz atmospheres, refined hip hop beats, world music overtones, dub rhythms and reggae reminiscences, all enriched by the dense and meaningful voices of London's Reggae RoastMC Natty Campbell, the eclectic and electric Raashan Ahmad and the legendary rapper and
performance poet Azeem, bringing to light the infinite connections that unite all humanity.

The album is further enriched by the precious remixes of underground legend Koralle, electronic shaman Deela, dub master Paolo Baldini Dubfiles, and gifted hip-hop head Luke Beats, who hybridise Woxow's ancestral vision with their skillful artistry, giving a new dimension to the tracks.

The artwork by visual artist and filmmaker Simone Brillarelli captures the essence of the album in a vibrant bloom of colourful flowers sharing the same soil, and ultimately the same planet, reiterating the message of shared family and unity that is celebrated in the music.

The EP is available both as a gatefold with two 7-inch vinyls and as a single 12-inch vinyl, as well as digital. Join the family now.

blue + red marbled vinyl
"Dog Eared"! Named as such as it marks a turning point in my productions and releases. Made while moving from Bristol back to London this as a theme pops up throughout the EP.

"Ithaca Vox" is the name of my first ever favourite preset - a CMI-inspired pad from GarageBand which I've been using since I was 11 but never on a release. The track also samples the screeching of Victoria line on my way back from nights out.

"Bubble Trouble" caused many headaches to finish hence the addition of the word "Trouble". The track pops, floats and bursts into the space between simplistic cartoon sound sources and excessively over the top sound design and production.

"Dive" dives further into these production ideas swapping tight space tiny bubbles for wide grinning resonance. The twisting track cuts these resonances leaving a large valley of missing frequencies that gets suddenly filled by an unrelentingly simple bell centring the listeners balance.

"From Window to Wall" gives a not so subtle nod to one of my favourite excessive chart hits as well as a further nod to the source of some of the track samples (see if you spot them).

"Calpohol" is the first collaboration Ive released (another reason to Dog Ear this release). Made from an afternoon of recording with Delay Grounds on his custom Eurorack the track was shaped by us over the weeks that followed.

Repress!

N0!zy blighter Russell Haswell returns to Diagonal 5 years after his label debut with a spontaneously combusting follow-up to ’37 Minute Workout’ generated again from a mix of analog/digital synths and modular systems edited on a computer. It was inspired by a visit to CERN, The European Organisation for Nuclear Research, in Geneva; and dinner with Ted Nelson, whose theories of interwingularity and transclusion chimed with the direction recordings took.There are few artists who can genuinely make music that sounds like your needle and/or record is melting, but Russell Haswell is one of them. His 2nd volume of extremely kinky calisthenics is a potent example of daring to be different in a world where exponentially increasing production options are leading producers of all stripes to the exact same conclusions. But, with thanks to Russell’s iconoclastic intent, restless nature and ascetic aesthetics, he still sounds quite like nobody else, and, even better yet, doesn’t give a shit if you like it or not. For the record (this one in particular), we’re all over it like a hot rash.
Since reincorporating his early love of freestyle electro and Industrial dance music into his patented n0!ze matrices circa the 1st volume of ’37 Minute Workout’, Russell has steered that rhythm-driven style into a string of fizzy bangers for Diagonal and even applied it to his production for Consumer Electronics with typically radical results. Russell’s 2nd volume of ’37 Minute Workout’ is cut from similarly (but never the same) ragged material as the first batch, and spits, kicks and claws with equal amounts of eething, pent energy and rambunctiousness ready to jab the ‘floor in the eye or dissolve a party where needed.
Crowbarring cues ranging from the Latin Rascals to Incapacitants and Jeff Mills into 7 wickedly awkward designs, Haswell keeps his avant aerobics radically irregular as he hops from the tendon-twitching angularity of ‘The Wild Horses of the Revolution have arrived Without Knight’ to steel-hoofed clatter in ‘Central Crisis Management Cell’ and the lacquer-eating dynamics of ‘Painful
Memories From The Past Need To Be Acknowledged’, before toning a proper nasty acid special in the UR inversion ‘Dancing on the Head of an Eagle’, and seemingly sucking your brain out thru a straw with ‘Starting Something You’re Not Able To Finish’, with the dry witted, skeletal jazz-funk squirm of ‘Diplomatic Cocktail Circuit’ closing the party down in style.

The Search for God is a wake-up call for a troubled world that’s still worth saving, animated by a belief in the power of small connections to add up to big changes. At 10 songs delivered in a brief 15 minutes, Jimmy Whispers’ long-awaited sophomore album feels present in a way that feels brand new for the cult auteur. Like many of us, Jimmy has been affected by the pressure of the past few years. After embracing sobriety in 2019, and now as a filmmaker sharing the stories of lesser known Los Angeles community members, he’s brought his dreaming down to earth, while turning its direction even further out.

Recorded with his longtime friend Ziyad Asrar of the band Whitney (and re-recorded after a hard drive incident destroyed the original files), The Search for God was created in the wake of Jimmy’s COVID isolation, and returns to some teen influences that are out of step with the chill/lo-fi LA indie rock scene he’s found himself lumped in with. Created mostly with two vintage synths, a single Roland CR5000 drum machine, and a busted karaoke machine, it channels Midwestern emo, the Beach Boys’ Smile, subtle nods at hyper-pop production, and forgotten jewel-box era college radio of the early aughts into a pure pop sound that transcends easy categorization.

The album’s standout single—and its statement of purpose—is “Hellscape,” which packs more into a minute and 40 seconds than you’d think possible: multiple immediately-unforgettable hooks, kaleidoscopic keyboards, and a bracing reminder that even the most transcendent moments are rooted in a world full of suffering. “This is a fucking hellscape,” Jimmy sings. “This is real life / this is happening.”

That may sound like punk nihilism, but The Search for God is anything but. Every lyrical acknowledgment of how fucked things are right now comes with a promise that we can still make positive changes. Jimmy calls it “God”; you might call it Love or Peace or A Place In the Universe That Makes Some Kind of Sense.

Will The Search for God deliver whatever that is to you? Of course not. At its heart, it’s still just a really good pop album. But maybe that’s enough. For a minute or two at a time, Jimmy’s music cracks open a space where the divine can enter our lives. The utopia we’ve all been dreaming of is already here if we’re just willing to build it. Jimmy Whispers is there, ready to add his voice, whenever we want to reach out.

Jason Mraz is living full spiral. It’s not full circle, exactly, because he’s changed and his experiences have changed, but on his eighth album, Mystical Magical Rhythmical Radical Ride, the musician has found himself returning to a familiar junction in space. The new songs, which are unabashedly pop, see Mraz reuniting with numerous collaborators, including Los Angeles band Raining Jane and producer Martin Terefe, who helmed 2008’s We Sing. We Dance. We Steal Things. In fact, as Mraz looked at the number eight, he instead saw an infinity sign.

Next up is an overdue reunion with a familiar face. After his outstanding contribution to Cocoon Compilation S and his first solo EP on Cocoon Recordings, Raxon is back with a more than equally fascinating sound. The Egyptian-born and now Barcelona-based artist is back on it again, delivering two tracks that will take you on a journey through the depths of robotic soundscapes.
Intricate beats, hypnotic synthesizer melodies, deep bassline grooves, and distinctive EFX sounds create Raxon’s very special signature sound.

Straight drum programming paired with chirping percussions takes us away to embark on a travel through space and time while distinctive claps poke through a futuristic nebula of floating and shifting sequences. The twisted melody of “Robotalia” carries us to a parallel dimension of machine sound and if you listen closely, you can hear the robots’ screwing and sawing. Warping bleeps and mechanical effects complete the robotic feeling. Raxon’s understanding of structures and architectural abilities are reflected through the arrangement, slowly increasing to ecstasy.

“Kryptonite” scores with alien soundscapes. Stuttering vocals are the questions, while futuristic and dramatic chord stabs are the direct answer. A straight, radiant sound appears as an electronic trombone from outer space, offensively supporting the driving bassline. The symbiotic interplay between the euphoric synthesizer hook line and the relentless beat with pushing sharp hi-hats visualize powerful images in one's mind's eye. Suddenly the beat stagnates and results in a morphing break going head over heels developing a start-stop pitch effect that not only builds up tremendous tension but also bears an increased risk of melting your brain. We just love tape delay!

Lean In is the exquisite new studio album from GRAMMY-nominated singer Gretchen Parlato and globetrotting guitarist Lionel Loueke - an album that has been twenty years in the making. Meeting in New York City in the early 2000s the pair discovered that they shared an intimate musical bond, a beautiful seed which flowered in performances but was not expressed in the studio, until now! Individually they are internationally renowned, performing with the best of the best and developing a formidable reputation as prolific, creative and world-class Artists. Together they surpass the sum of their parts and form a partnership that is inspired and inspiring. Together Gretchen and Lionel invite you to lean in and join them in the celebration of their musical conjunction.