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Sonetos del Amor Oscuro is an ode performed by four enchanted souls who have intertwined their hearts and conjured harmonies and rhythms that wander endlessly among the spellbinding words of a poet from Granada... Federico García Lorca;
He wrung, pushed and vibrated words like tectonic plates, transforming plains into poetic mountain landscapes. He then covered them with a Moorish carpet of snow crystals and had them reflected by the dark locks of hair of a gypsy girl from Albaicín who, with a voice forged in gold and silver, sings her little sister to sleep with a soothing lullaby.

Helena Casella – vocals
Myrddin De Cauter – flamenco guitar
Stijn Kuppens – cello
Stefan Bracaval – flute, bass flute

Helena Casella, the Belgian-Brazilian vocalist with a deep, soft and warm voice, translates her multicultural background and personal thoughts into music in a passionate, soulful and refined way. With her roots in an exceptionally musical family, her music exudes this unique heritage. She effortlessly interweaves genres such as R&B, soul, hip hop and modern jazz, while remaining true to the vibrant sounds of Brazil, an essential part of her roots.
Her debut album was released earlier this year on W.E.R.F. records.

Myrddin De Cauter's music is deeply moving, complex, passionately rhythmic and deeply emotional. He has mastered the compás of flamenco, which gives him the freedom to converse with elements from jazz or classical music. His speed sometimes seems otherworldly, but those who take the time to listen closely to his music will quickly discover an immense world of pure emotion, beauty and tranquillity. After six albums and countless concerts, Myrddin proves that great virtuosos do not necessarily have to come from Spain. At the tender age of eleven, his father taught him to play the clarinet in jazz and gypsy swing style; he became part of the family orchestra and gained his first experiences on stage. A classical melody composed on the guitar prompted him to ask his father to teach him the basics of flamenco guitar. Soon after, Myrddin seemed ready for the real thing and went to Andalusia to learn from Manolo Sanlucar and Gerardo Núñez. This inspired him to compose in his own unique language, deeply rooted in the pure flamenco tradition but enriched by boundless creativity.

Stijn Kuppens is a cellist, composer and producer. In his own genre, which he describes as non-classical cello, he uses the cello in his own unique way. His profound knowledge of the complex history and techniques of the style is clearly audible: Kuppens' mastery of classical music is evident in every note he plays, whether he is performing solo or collaborating with other musicians. His skill as a musician and ambition to explore the boundaries of conventional classical music is evident in his ability to seamlessly blend different genres.

Stefan Bracaval is a classically trained flutist who graduated from the Royal Conservatory of Antwerp. His fascination with the expressive potential of improvisation led him to jazz, where he became a self-taught jazz flutist. Bracaval has collaborated on projects with prominent jazz figures such as Charles Loos, Bert Joris and the Brussels Jazz Orchestra. In addition, he worked as a soloist and arranger with the VRT Radio Choir in 2016. Bracaval leads the Stefan Bracaval QU4RTET, which emphasises the flute as a central jazz instrument and brings new repertoire rooted in jazz traditions.

Live
31/10/2025 – Café Silverio, Gent (BE)
15/01/2026 – Kloosterkapel Diepenbeek (BE)
16/01/2026 – ‘t Ey, Belsele (BE)
17/01/2026 – Sint-Luciakerk (kerkconcerten Merode), Engsbergen (BE)
23/01/2026 – Muziekcentrum Dranouter (BE)

4LP vinyl boxset - pressed on opaque red, green, blue and yellow vinyl housed in printed inner sleeves with disco holes within a hardbound book jacket. The back cover is a Ludo board and the package contains Ludo game pieces, dice and instructions on how to play.

The Best of the Black President is the 13 track guide to Fela Kuti’s massive and manifold creative career. Fela was a musician, arranger, producer, political radical, outlaw and the originator of Afrobeat. This is the first time the complete compilation is available on vinyl. It is a 4 LP set, with updated cover art in a hardbound book jacket and printed inner sleeves. The individual LPs are pressed on red (sides A/B), green (sides C/D), blue (sides E/F) and yellow (sides G/H) vinyl. This edition features a Ludo game board as the back cover and comes with a perforated set of game pieces, dice, and instructions on how to play. Limited edition of 3000 for the world.



The release of this special edition coincides with the 12 episode podcast on the life and legacy of Fela, Fela Kuti: Fear No Man, produced by the Obamas and hosted by Jad Abumrad (Radiolab, Dolly Parton’s America). The series features dozens of interviews including Burna Boy, Paul McCartney, Questlove, Ayo Edebiri, David Byrne, Santigold, and President Obama himself. It was initially released on Audible on 9/15/25 and had a wide release across all podcast platforms on 10/15/25

His eighth studio LP, Action Adventure, finds DJ Shadow continuing to evolve as a producer and songwriter over 14 mostly instrumental tracks. It is a thrilling new addition to an influential body of work defined by a restless ear, always searching to rescue some forgotten gem from the dustbin of music history or a fresh blast of sound from the cutting edge.

Simon Popp is back on Squama with his fourth album Trio.
At its heart, Trio is a work about collaboration, playfulness and unification. It is music as a means of coming together, a sonic equivalent to the Japanese philosophy of Kintsugi, in which broken ceramics are repaired with a visible golden lacquer. Rather than hiding the breaks, Kintsugi embraces them, making them part of the story, a form of delicate transformation. Popp and his collaborators Flurin Mück and Sebastian Wolfgruber take a similar approach: three distinct drummers, three different temperaments, three personal styles. Fused together into a single expressive instrument.
The album is a celebration of timbre, texture, and touch, its sound palette drawn from across continents and traditions. Human beings at all points of time, across all cultures and continents have used music to celebrate, mourn, worship and bond. Along with our voices, creating rhythm with our bodies. Clapping, stomping, hitting with sticks. A celebration of rhythm as both a shared human memory and an audible expression of close bonds.
Trio is a reflection of the beauty of imperfection and the timeless pull of rhythm as a shared human force. The cracks are not hidden. They are filled with gold.

Manchester based trio, Sonnenspot have unashamedly taken their favourite records from the Kosmische Musik landscape and fused these to inform their own spontaneous sonic constructions. Motorik drums, pulsating flutes, wah guitar and almost excessive use of space echo make this a dense and dreamy listen, with a hint of the rainy pensiveness of their home town.

Notable inspiration from Neu!, Manuel Gottsching, Sonic Youth and Yo La Tengo is all clearly audible in the various recordings on this album and minimal effort was made to shy away from this. The longest track 'Motorway' is an epic homage to the space rock art form and 'Madrugada' takes both John Martyn's 'Small Hours' and Gottsching's 'Inventions' as a starting point. Others include the tobacco lovers art-rock-ear-worm ('Liquorice Paper'), a dub laden celestial synth jam ('Slow Blinker') and the album opens with the first thing the band ever recorded, as a meaningless improvisation to tune their synths up to ('Figurescene'). Turned out it had a killer bass line and drum part.

Initial sessions were mostly just an excuse for the three long standing friends to get together musically for the first time, and after knowing each other for many full moons, it was long overdue.

They all bring some peripheral musical heritage to the table. Ian Smith was the guitarist in Alfie and the The Beep Seals and played on Badly Drawn Boy's 'The Hour of Bewilderbeast'. Pete Philipson played in Jane Weaver's band for ten years and has made his own ambient guitar albums. Dan Hope plays in the jazz folk band Mother Sky and promotes events around the city under the Rainy Heart banner.
They were joined by another long term musical friend Sam Kynaston who added heavenly flute to much of the album.

Limited Edition of 200 copies incl. Dolphins Remix (DALO, Benedikt Frey and Menqui).

Hot seducers. Two of them. On one 7inch. A/B Side business, hard to choose a fav, as both so fab. The A-Side is called "Happen". It comes from prolific Tokyo based DJ and producer Hoshina Anniversary. A simple drum machine groove, a manic melody, witching siren sounds, psychedelic voices, some soft chords, and soulful high-pitched singing, somewhere between Dam-Funk coolness and Ian Svenonius-The-Make-Up sixties pop longing. One for warm sexy nights under neon lights. Out there in psychic realms. The flip brings a Dolphins interpretation. Yes, that feverish trio behind R.i.O., consisting of Nadia D'Alò, Benedikt Frey and Menqui. Their freshly recorded version comes with haunting nonchalant singing, displaying the tunes core melody as a more prominent actor of the play. Michael-Mann-Pop-Nostalgia with a baroque touch, that waves dark-ish. Even some Jon Hassle feeling is in there. Hoshina Anniversary disclosed, that the original song is inspired by jazz musicians like Chet Baker, Miles Davis, Sonny Rollins, Chick Corea, Herbie Hancock, Jaco Pastorius and Keith Jarrett. None of them is directly stylistically audible. But their kind of blue is all over. On the A as well as on the B. Twice soul music for the free.

"The Golden Age of Wireless is the debut album by English musician Thomas Dolby. The album was originally released in May 1982. Several tracks have a submerged, barely audible layer of almost random sound that serves as a constant (and disturbing) subtext, occasionally erupting into a song. This sonic underworld is all part of Dolby's mechanical wizardry. Rolling Stone magazine awarded The Golden Age of Wireless four stars out of five, calling it ""one of the most impressive debuts"" of 1982. They compared the album's melodicism to the works of Paul McCartney and concluded that ""unlike many synthesizer bands from England, Dolby eschews morbid, droogy drones."" Musician magazine said the album was ""the best damned record to come out of Europe's current fascination with synth-pop. Period."" Theye added, ""Dolby is purely amazing. And best of all, he writes songs.""

The Golden Age Of Wireless is available as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on silver coloured vinyl and includes an insert. "

When the hypnotic groove of Berlin band Onom Agemo & The Disco Jumpers meets the pulsating riffs of Malian guitarist and singer Ahmed Ag Kaedy, new horizons open up.


At the centre of 'Common Stars' is Ahmed Ag Kaedy's distinctive vocals - always with poetic urgency. His lyrics, deeply rooted in the political and cultural realities of his homeland, deal with freedom, home and the search for identity. They deal with the ongoing conflict of the Tuareg in Mali, who are caught between the desire for cultural self-determination and political tensions with the central government. They also address the threat posed by Islamist groups, which have controlled parts of northern Mali and banned music since 2012. Ahmed Ag Kaedy had to flee his home country due to this repression. With his band Amanar, he shaped modern Tuareg rock and toured internationally. The collaboration with Onom Agemo began after he came to Berlin for the premiere of the film 'Mali Blues', in which he is one of the protagonists, and led to joint concerts throughout Europe.

'Common Stars' is a musical meeting of cultures that unites sounds from the Sahara to Berlin. Music that creates connections and makes different perspectives audible. The tracks are characterised by trance-like rhythms, hypnotic bass lines and shimmering saxophone and flute sounds. Pulsating synthesizers, dry-as-dust guitar riffs and improvisational outbursts interweave to create a soundscape that is sometimes driving, sometimes floating and creates a very unique, captivating atmosphere. Ahmed Ag Kaedy describes it aptly: 'Space jazz meets the rhythm of the camel.'

Two of the most prolific remixers in the world of Disco, Dave Lee and John Morales have teamed up for one of their biggest projects to date - 'Mixed To The Maxxx' After gaining access from the legendary original artists these two highly esteemed producers take the multi-track tapes of many classic Disco, Funk & Soul tracks and re-work them...to the Maxxx! Here we are treated to a 12" sampler of what is to come from the Album later this year.
First up, the Bass twanging floor filler version from Dave Lee of 'The Brothers Johnson - The Real Thing' which has already been causing a stir in his DJ sets of late, featuring lots of musical parts not audible in the original. Following up is Dave's Friday Night Fever Mix of Philly legends 'Bell & James - US chart hit "Livin' It Up (Friday Night)' where he beefs up and extends the original to re-step back out on the town, a masterclass in elevating something that is already great to start with. On the second 12" we have John Morales taking on a biggie! Inner Life's - Aint No Mountain High Enough. Here John handles the prestigious parts with the respect due, re-shaping key moments in a new light and bringing the sonics up to par for modern dancefloors, an Anthem Mix indeed. To finish proceedings Morales takes on British Jazz-Funk band 'Light Of The World' with their mum loved classic 'London Town' bumping the tempo a touch and beefing up the funk.

House music doesn’t get much funkier than Demuir’s ‘New spirit’ EP. Whether it’s the classic sampling on the title track – an homage to his mother-, or the rolling funk bass and vocal chops on ‘Ain’t no stoppin’ ‘, Demuir brings an unstoppable groove with his 2nd release on Heist.

The man behind so many great house records has kept himself rather busy with building his own fanbase, openly debating the role that big platforms play and the firm grip they have on talent. Rather than conforming to the standard route, Demuir chooses to navigate the winding road of building his own following through his production classes, engineering and music releases through artist-first channels like Patreon.

His recent move from Toronto to Chicago feels perfectly in line with the sound Demuir is bringing forward on his first record on Heist since his 2019 classic ‘Werq, feel, gruv, vogue’. Those 6 years were well worth the wait: The ‘New spirit’ EP is a perfectly-balanced mix of creativity, confidence and character. The Demuir sound is instantly audible throughout the release and he’s not afraid to make bold choices. Each track has its own identity, its own place on the record and it’s one of the things that make this record stand out in the best way possible. The forward-leaning grooves, the tight mixing and the classic use of soulful samples are a treat to listen and dance to. There’s hints of the 90s New York sound (New Spirit), soulful disco-tinged grooves his new home-town is known for (Ain’t no stoppin’), lean-back and summery melodic grooves (No minions allowed) and deep, bassheavy dubby grooves (Whatchu want is all I got) to remind everyone that Demuir is an absolute master of modern day house music.

We’ve been playing all these songs for a while and we’re happy to finally share these with you.

As always, enjoy the music and play it loud!

Lars & Maarten

The 2018 live performance captured on Carlos Niño & Miguel Atwood-Ferguson’s Chicago Waves marked another beautiful turning point for International Anthem. The set was recorded at our then HQ, Co-Prosperity, the day after Niño and Ferguson performed as part of Makaya McCraven’s Universal Beings ensemble to celebrate the release of his album by the same name and recreate their contributions to the music on the record’s “LA Side”.

The release of the recording as the Chicago Waves album at the height of the COVID-19 Pandemic drove home the unmistakable sound of togetherness audible in its grooves in a way that only a society trapped in their houses for a year can truly understand. But as that year fades further into the rearview mirror, Chicago Waves still maintains its power. It’s not a mystery—this is what togetherness sounds like.
The IA11 Edition LP features our IARC 2025 obi strip, plus a new 16-page 11x11" insert booklet with additional photos and extensive new liner notes by IARC co-founder Scott McNiece.

Front man Austin Getz doesn't blink when asked to sum up Turnover's third full-length, Good Nature. "Learning," he replies. "This whole record is about learning. Opening your eyes to new things, going outside of your comfort zone, and learning to grow into something new."The album's unique blend of musical and spiritual growth is immediately audible on the opening track, "Super Natural," a late-summer idyll of intertwined guitar parts and laidback vocals. Listening to how the leisurely "Nightlight Girl" melts into a more propulsive selection like "Breeze," and the way Good Nature flows together as a seamless whole, it's also evident that the foursome has been paying closer attention to how artists from earlier eras made full-length albums: the range of textures, tempos, and dynamics on Good Nature are infuenced in part by bossa nova, cool jazz, electronic music, and psychedelic grooves. This infux of new infuences and inspiration, navigated by Peripheral Vision producer Will Yip, results in the band's best album to date. Good Nature comes from a place of calm and contentment, nurtured by looking inward.

I must admit to being a sucker for two-guitar bands. Ok, Hendrix pulled off a trio. But I don’t care what anybody says: The Yardbirds were a better band than anything that came out of them (Ok, maybe not Zep. But Cream?).

Maybe the reason I go back so far in my references is that, within the two-guitar band format, original new roles are difficult and rare. There’s the classic (socially problematic and often boring) “rhythm/lead” solution. There’s the JB’s or Nile Rodgers’ chicken pickin’ vs comping solution (which avoids chordal clashes by relegating one of the guitars to the role of single-note percussion instrument). There’s Ornette’s Prime Time division between Bern Nix’s rolled-off “jazz” tone and Charles Ellerbee’s trebly wah. Almost everything else is a variation on one of these.


In Ches Smith’s record Clone Row, each piece is built around a different concept for guitar interaction. The delightful and gifted weirdness of Mary Halvorson’s playing is counterpointed, contrasted, unisoned with, played off, juxtaposed (that is to say, enters every relationship possible) with Liberty Ellman’s equally amazing sound palette, chops, and imagination. This definitely ain’t your father’s guitar band.
The overall vibe of the record—despite Halvorson’s occasional noise outbursts or Ellman’s distorted guitar lines (see Mixed Fridge) is neither punk/funk, nor Zorn-ish metal—and certainly not the looser parameters of Ornette’s improvised harmolodics. Smith’s vibraphone playing, Halvorson’s guitar tone (whammy pedal squiggles aside), the brilliant electronics, and (most of all) the compositions themselves are somehow strangely West Coast cool. It’s as if I’m hearing a Jim Hall concert in which one of us did a lot of mushrooms, or (dare I write this?) some post-punk post-Dave Brubeck post-trip-hop experiment with classical form.

This recording is, most of all, about Ches as composer. He’s picked up a lot on his long, strange trip of the last few decades. The Haitian funkiness of his work with We All Break is audible—but deeply buried, encoded in the polyrhythms (check out Heart Breakthrough). His long-running side musician collaborations with John Zorn and Tim Berne are also evident but sublimated here into something new.

Not that improvising is absent. Check out the compelling collective statements in Sustained Nightmare and Ready Beat. Check out the brilliant interplay and bass soloing on Abrade With Me (a Weather Report for the age of extreme weather?) Nick Dunston is my favorite bassist of the new generation, and he plays brilliantly throughout. And Ches’ drumming here has all the groove, energy, and incredible range that have kept him in demand from Saturday night Vodou services to jazz and new music recording sessions (…the thinking man’s rock barbarian?).
The sus chords in Abrade With Me do build, for a moment, towards a fusion type of climax...but just at the moment I was gritting my teeth in anticipated defense against some horrible synth solo, the drums drop out, and we’re transported to the ambient lounge at the rave, and we suddenly understand we’re in the hands of a composer with the power to transport us just about anywhere.
So, this is a composer’s record most of all; a composer’s record performed by musicians who happen to be great improvisers. Ches Smith builds here on his reputation as a gifted new voice with an important vision, while showcasing some of the most creative musicians of our time.

Shiken Hanzo is an artist not easily forgotten. His sound splices the fractious traditions of jungle with more ambient touches and this hybridisation has us incredibly excited to bring you his first full length album - ‘Fate Worlds’. In doing so, his boundless creativity is brandished through complete artistic freedom. The result is a special blend of foreboding atmospherics and tightly-bound percussive force, an odyssey of an album which takes influences from across the jungle spectrum and twists them into a unique musical journey. Hanzo's record on label's like Samurai Music and Cylon Recordings is clearly audible, a palpable legacy that has given breadth to his current creative purpose: to make ever-evolving music with no respect for conventions or boundaries.

'Quiet Pieces' initiates Abul Mogard’s personal imprint Soft Echoes with a definitive self-portrait of calm, contemplative, and discreet inner landscapes made audible. It is the first solo album on vinyl in four years. RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker.

While sifting through archived material left idle from earlier projects, a chance encounter with a late uncle’s trove of beloved 78rpm classical and opera records prompted the reworking and completion of what would eventually become the album. Spinning dusty records at 33 and 45rpm, Abul Mogard recombined their enduring spectres with unfinished sketches from his archive. The resulting soundscape blurs distinctions between his memories and those of another, exquisitely short-circuiting the senses with its waking, dream-like lucidity.

This was a process I hadn’t explored in my earlier works. I began sampling brief moments from these records, altering them with studio effects and playing them at slower speeds. In many cases, I wasn’t entirely sure how the original music sounded. These fragments, once further processed, became a source of inspiration for my new compositions. Over time, I realised that the old pieces from the archive and the new material derived from the samples naturally complemented each other.”

The resulting pieces hover over a threshold, a liminal space that harmonises the old and older material. Voluminous waves of quiet and loud undulate between consonance and dissonance, conjuring imagery of a decaying grandeur that humanity’s decadence has surrendered to the elements. Abul Mogard’s seemingly abandoned yet vast landscapes are nevertheless intimate with timbral frissons of red-lined distortion. Elusive, yet as tangible as sea spray or smog, they affect the olfactory senses with a rarified, synesthetic quality that modestly engages one’s emotional register – a hypnotic, distinguishing feature long hailed as one of the hallmarks of his work. A fidelity to memory and dream recall is sensitively probed in the journey from the stately symphonic stasis of 'Following a dream' to the almost industrial, untethered brutality evoked by a looming silhouette that’s never fully visible in 'Constantly slipping away', culminating in the foreboding coda of 'Like a bird'. Those pieces appear to shield the album’s sentimental core, where the tempestuous play of light and shadow of 'In a studded procession' escalates to breathtaking, panoramic climax, while 'Through whispers' evokes an out-of-body-like experience encountered with visceral poignancy.

Looking back, Mogard notes an unexpected influence: “I realise being inspired by Phill Niblock, whose work I had barely known at the time but explored after his passing in 2024. His album 'Boston Tenor Index' changed the way I approached dissonance. It encouraged me to push my sound further, to the edge of a space where I began to feel uncomfortable.”

The album artwork, created by longtime collaborator Marja de Sanctis, features a photograph taken at the Temple of Jupiter Anxur, an archaeological site overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Captured with an iPhone, the image traces the residual presence of construction techniques and architectural forms of the Romans, where material history is transcribed through contemporary tools. The convergence of ancient and modern technology aims to reverberate the site’s lasting spiritual presence – an echo persisting in what is now perceived as a quiet, emptied space. The spiral gestures towards infinity and light. Past and present dissolve into one another, reflecting 'Quiet Pieces' meditation on sound, memory, and time.

RIYL Alessandro Cortini, William Basinski, The Caretaker

On ‘Animal’, Ash Fure appeals to “animal intelligence” by using sounds that are inherently physical and driven by perception, athleticism and interaction. Placing polycarbonate sheeting over an inverted subwoofer she built alongside her partner Xavi Aguirre and brother Adam, Fure isolates the physical impact of sound by focusing on psychoacoustic sub-bass pulses, semi-perceptible micro-rhythms and discomfiting white noise bursts, linking the process to her experiences in Berlin and Detroit’s techno dungeons where the sound has to adapt to the space it’s performed in. When she performed ‘Animal’ for the first time, Fure fabricated a “listening gym”, allowing the audience to interact in real-time by circuit training in response to the sound. The sweat is almost audible across the record, a run-on selection of rhythms, resonances and abstractions that sound like interlocking heartbeats on a series of treadmills. Her fascination with techno’s cavernous cathedrals is clear from the beginning, but Fure doesn’t worship at the altar: we’re hit with the feeling, not the aesthetic. The beats themselves, made from unstable vibrations and waterlogged, reverberating clicks, echo the brain’s unconscious reaction to repetition in a vast concrete box, the feeling you get when each percussive snag ricochets from every surface in the building. Coddling these whirring, criss-crossing polyrhythms with harsh, distorted low-end retches, Fure accurately recreates the energy and fatigue of the endless weekend sesh. We never once encounter techno in its expected shell, just its residue - the outline of humans figuring out their relationship with technology, architecture and each other. Fure’s use of dynamics is also deviously smart, marking out an overall rhythm that’s not tied to the strength of the sounds themselves, but just volume and physical impact. Often her most brutal sounds - ear-splitting squeals and overdriven mechanical whirrs - are reduced to an almost inaudible level, a bit like the bandy legged trip to the bathroom, or the escape to some dimly lit nook, the part of the night where you can still detect the sound on your skin without being battered by it. When the undulating rhythm returns in earnest, Fure masks acidic sequences in jet engine expulsions, still refusing to objectify anything that an AI model might be able to pick up on.

David Janeway’s 1986 independent release Entry Point is a gathered and stylish offering of fusion jazz, flitting between Latin, modal and spiritual themes. Featuring desirable cameos from the likes of Bob Berg, Steve Berrios and Marcus Belgrave, the album comprises seven tracks, six of which are original Janeway compositions.

Self-released in 1986, Entry Point didn’t initially make a splash and fell into relative obscurity, only to be discovered by rare jazz collectors and dealers many years later. Upon contacting David with a view to potentially reissue Entry Point, he revealed that he had original sealed copies of the release in his possession – a record which has commanded high prices in jazz dealer circles. We have exclusively imported the last of the original stock: what you’ll get here are original, sealed copies from 1986, pressed up on David’s New Direction label. They are all in mint condition, sealed in their original shrink wrapping, and extremely limited in quantity, with only forty copies in stock.

Entry Point is a beautiful album full of outstanding musicianship, dedication, craft and audible passion, informed by the many diverse musical stylings of its time and gathered by the overarching sonic maturity and discipline of jazz. A true classic of its ilk, and a one-of-a-kind album that is an absolute must for any discerning jazz collector, a newly discovered gem that is long overdue recognition for the outstanding piece of work that it truly is.

David Janeway is an extraordinary pianist with a great facility and wealth of ideas. He exhibits maturity and depth in his playing. He has most definitely “ARRIVED”. ~ Eddie Henderson

Emerging from the suburbs of North London in the early 1990s, Hulusi was an experimental electronic music collective formed by four friends of multi-ethnic origin: Cypriot, Caribbean, Indian and English heritage. Cultivating their musical practice within very specific parameters of time and space, Hulusi instills the essence and spirit of the acid house movement (and its aftermath) that had taken much of England by storm from 1988 onwards. The ‘Dream’ EP was the collective's first release of their self-funded and limited output, offering up a categorically elusive record that could soundtrack the most esoteric and life affirming club moments, whilst simultaneously satisfying the ears and obscure desires of those found dwelling in the heavily occupied ‘chill out’ rooms and nocturnal after parties. As the emerging UK rave scene aligned with newfound accessibility of music production, the late 80s and early 90s became a fertile ground for experimental electronic music, spawning a generation of bedroom and basement producers interacting with and creating music for often the very first time. Like many, Hulusi was a musical project that connected the dots between DIY spirit, technological advancements and the burgeoning cultural phenomenon of acid house. The project operated outside of the then perceived, traditional band conventions, instead developing their sound and exchanging ideas through the format of demo tapes and floppy disks, nurturing their work through individual bedroom studios and feedback sessions. Considered a crucial and possibly defining element of the record, is Hulusi’s unconscious exploration of the groups hybrid cultural identity. Rooted in a shared desire for self-invention, the Dream EPreflects Hulusi's response to a world of rapid musical and technological change. Each track on the record draws inspiration from both Western and Eastern musical frameworks, symbolized through the record’s structure. The ‘Western Side’, featuring "Dream," echoes the ambient techno and acid house influences of early rave culture and bands like 808 State and Orbital. In contrast, the ‘Eastern Side’ of the record is highly decorated with samples, yet stripped back, through its purposeful use of organic sounds, reflecting the group's fascination with blending Western modernism with imagined Eastern themes. Despite operating in near obscurity, Hulusi - The Dream EP acts as an audible catalyst to transport the listener to a different time and place, offering a lucid snapshot into the musical and cultural explorations of the past whilst simultaneously remaining a timeless piece of music.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aunes is a rare solo album from peripatetic Australian cellist-composer-performer Judith Hamann, presenting six pieces recorded across several years and countries. Developing the collage techniques and expanded sound palettes heard on their previous releases, Aunes makes use of synthesizers, organ, voice and location recordings alongside the dazzlingly pure, enveloping tones of Hamann's cello. The record takes its name from an old French unit of measurement for fabric, varying around the country and from material to material. Unlike the platinum metre bar deposited in the National Archives after the Revolution as an immovable standard, an aune of silk differed from an aune of linen: the measure could not be separated from the material. In much the same way, in these six pieces_which Hamann thinks of as `songs'_formal aspects such as tuning, pacing, melodic shape and timbre are not abstractions applied universally to musical material but are inextricable from the instruments and sounds used, even from the places and communities in which the music was made. Audible location sound embeds the music in its place of making, as in the delicate duet for church organ and wordless singing `schloss, night', where shuffles and cluttering in the reverberant church space form a phantom accompaniment, gradually displaced by a uneasy shimmer of wavering tones from half-opened organ stops. `Casa Di Riposo, Gesu' Redentore' documents a walk up a hill to an outdoor mass in Chiusure, layering voices near and far with footsteps, insects and other incidental sounds. Like in the work of Moniek Darge or Luc Ferrari, location recordings are folded on themselves in space and time, their documentary function dislocated to dreamlike effect. On other pieces, it is the emphatic presence of the performing body that grounds the music, whether in the intimate fragility of Hamann's softly sung and hummed vocal tones or the clothing that rustles across a microphone on the opening `by the line'. The idea of a music inextricable from its material conditions is perhaps most strikingly communicated on the album's briefest piece `bruststärke (lung song)', composed from layered whistling recorded while Hamann suffered through an asthma flare up, the results halfway between field recordings of an imaginary aviary and the audiopoems of Henri Chopin. More than any of Hamann's previous solo works, a strong melodic sensibility runs through Aunes, even when, like on `seventeen fabrics of measure', the music hangs together by the merest thread. At other points, Hamann's love of pop music is more obvious: the rich synth harmonies of `by the line' could almost be a melting fragment of a backing track from Hounds of Love. The expansive closing piece `neither from nor toward' exemplifies the highly personal musical language that Hamann has developed in recent years through constant solo performance (and a rigorous discipline of instrumental practice), pairing two overdubbed voices with the boundless depth and harmonic richness of just-intoned cello notes, calling up Ockegham or Linda Caitlin Smith in its elegiac slow motion arcs. Hamann's most personal work yet, Aunes arrives in a striking sleeve reproducing a section of a painting made from sewn pieces of dyed wool by Wilder Alison, a friend and fellow resident at Akademie Schloss Solitude, one of the temporary homes where much of this music was recorded.

Helena Casella is a Belgian-Brazilian vocalist with a multicultural background who vocalizes her thoughts in her own passionate, soulful, and tasteful manner. She grew up in an incredibly musical family with strong ties to the broader artistic world. This rich background is clearly audible in her musical approach, where she blends genres such as R&B, soul, hip-hop, and modern jazz without breaking the connection to the vibrant sounds of Brazil, where part of her roots lie. The depth of her soft, warm voice pulls you into her story, floating between the realms of the intimate and the ethereal.

With her debut album 'Pit Of Impressions,' Helena shows that she is an artist from whom we have yet to hear the best.

File under: neo soul, nu jazz, R&B

Sounds like: The Internet, Hiatus Kaiyote, Michi, Solange, Erykah Badu, Charlotte Dos Santos, ...

Black Vinyl / 350 mcn double white coated paper / Poster sleeve / PVC outers / Original artwork / Exclusive 30x30 cm insert with Q&A by Tony Higgins with Ole Matthiessen printed on on 250 gram Gardamat coated paper. Archive picture from original recording session printed on 350 gram Gardamat paper. Archive pictures printed on 375 gram Vintage Bindakote Monolucido. All papers are acid free an printed with food based inks.

Personnel: 

Jesper Nehammer - tenor saxophone
Ole Mathiessen – piano
Jon Finsen – drums
Henrik Hove - bass

Notes:
Danish jazz band founded in 1969. Band line up: Henrik Hove on bass, Ole Mathiessen on piano, Jesper Nehammer (later Thors Hammer, Alrune Rod and Entrance) on tenorsax, and Jon Finsen on drums. Played for a while every Monday in the famous Jazzhouse Montmatre in Copenhagen.
Tordenskjolds Soldater only made this record (1970).
The small record label Spectator Records was founded in 1969 by Jørgen Bornefeldt a former journalist from Danmarks Radio in coorporation with the jazz musician Carsten Meinert. Meinert recorded two albums on the label. He only joined the company in the beginning. Cindarellaistudiet The studio was destroyed august 6th 1972 by a major fire. And that was the end of Spectator Records. From 1969 to the end, the label recorded at least 23 lp albums and 9-11 singles/EP's. The picture shows Henning Kragh Pedersen from Cinderella in Spectators studio. The great Danish rock band Gasolin recorded their first single – Silky Sally - on Spectator Records. It was no success and sold only 155 copies. Silky Sally is now one of the most sought after Gasolin singles among collectors and is of course very expensive.
The music from Spectator Records is mostly jazz, progressive rock and hippie free style. But they also made strange records for children, education etc. Most records were issued in very small numbers (300-500). Some of the best progressive rock in Northern Europe was recorded here.
Quality of vinyl was often poor - even new looking records can have audible problems. Covers and labels are primitive and cheap. On the other hand the creativity could be outstanding - check the Furekaaben cover gallery or the artwork of William Skotte Olsen from Green Grass. Several record from the labels are cult today. A perfect copy of certain records costs a fortune.
Master tapes was never found after the fire in 1972. Unofficial reissues and bootlegs are therefore made on the base of the original records. Recordings that never made it to the vinyl got lost in the fire. Both Cinderella and The Copenhagen based band, Lines lyst, had material readdy for lp's which was never recorded. (Tony Higgins)

"When it travels, the voice is a double agent, a trickster, or a dubious guru, but when it pauses for a recording, it's historical, capturing a mood or an emotion for all time. I didn't expect that I would hardly recognize the people who made Salt — myself and Hessel Veldman — a year and a half after recording it, but this is where I find myself now, so I'll say a few words about this temporary prosopagnosia.

Twelve years ago, when I moved to the Netherlands from Japan, I made a piece called How to Lose Your Voice. It was a YouTube hit because people wanted to learn how to actually lose their voices, though I doubt they found what they were looking for in the video. But I mention it because it's like a diary for me: my voice simply isn't the same now as it was then.

I wonder where my voice has gone.

I just listened to a radio interview with a woman who had her larynx removed.

About fifteen minutes after listening to her new voice, altered by the use of a voice prosthesis to make her audible, the interviewer played a recording of her pre-surgery voice. Of course, I was curious to hear it, and although it was immediately obvious that the gentle ease of her first voice was gone, this new voice, with its raw, gravelly sound, was even more intriguing because of its determined power to express that which needed to be expressed.

When Hessel and I first listened to the Salt in its entirety, I said in astonishment, "who wrote this?"
Marianna Maruyama, sure, but this artist goes by more than one name. Many voices spoke through me in this album. You might even recognize one of them as yours."

I first saw Hugh and Jackson play together at Good God’s ‘Soft Future Piano Bar’ at the Sydney Opera House in 2017. That year was a fruitful year for the two as artists and for the Sydney music community in general. I remember that all of us, along with Greville and Brad, hosted a DIY party in a tunnel under a highway somewhere near Sydney Airport. Is that the same tunnel that Tunnel Dancers derived their name from? 7 years after that first meeting at the Sydney Opera House, Hugh and Jackson have released an album. Listening to these songs there is an audible patience and understanding between two musicians. They probably could have released something else a long time ago, but chose to wait - instead enjoying bowls of laksa on their lunch breaks and sharing long, quiet conversations at The Babylon Sauna & Spa. When the next warm bowl of noodle soup arrives on your table, how long will you let it sit before you dive in? Soup first or noodle first? If you learn from these songs, perhaps you will know to first observe the whole bowl. Observing in this way, the moment settles and hovers and remains for much longer than a moment.

ALCEST took an audible step towards their black metal roots with their sophomore full-length “Écailles de Lune” ("Moon Scales") without losing any of the trademarks that had evolved on their debut album “Souvenirs d’un Autre Monde”. The French post-black metal pioneers created a sound of lucent, dreamlike quality and otherworldly beauty that has equally defined them and been refined by them ever since. New colour vinyl!!

Repress of DVS1's highly anticipated album that came out on Axis digital during the pandemic. From the perceiving body to the liminal space of the dream-state, audible frequencies send a neurofeedback message. A paradigm-shift is activated in the mind. A movement from the present hour toward the realm beyond measure. The pulse of a synthesized kick. The distance between evolving rhythms of time & place left behind. Sensations created in forgotten corners of the consciousness are distant, yet familiar. A low-penetrating drum beat pulsates. Hypnotic hallucinations reveal detailed layers, oscillating from the back to the forefront of the dream. Synth programming yields abstract ideas into concrete images. Lucid percussion arranged to paint a deeper shade of architecture in this future-memory-system. Be aware that sensations resonate into imagination without warning. The observer extends from rational thought to a deeper state of understanding. The mind-body experience gives way to a transient response from a shock wave to the steady state. The senses reach entrainment.

elbow return with their seventh studio album on 3rd February 2017. 'Little Fictions' was recorded in Scotland and Manchester and sees the band collaborate with the string players of The Hallé Orchestra, the Hallé Ancoats Community Choir, members of London Contemporary Voices and session drummer Alex Reeves. As with the previous three elbow albums it was produced by Craig Potter.
'Little Fictions' is emphatically a band album. Having written individually for its chart-topping predecessor, 'The Take Off and Landing of Everything', sessions this time were collective affairs, with all four members gathered initially in a house in Scotland before moving to Guy's attic in Prestwich and finalising recordings in the familiar setting of Blueprint studios, Salford.
'Little Fictions' is an upbeat album. All the band talk of the sessions being 'joyful', Mark summarises it as 'the sound of four people who love what they do and each other', of an album that came into being naturally and, at times even unconsciously. Lead single 'Magnificent (She Says)' was embraced for the joyous, thrilling piece of music it is, positive and outward looking. Mark never even considered his audible switch towards electric guitars, most notable on the psychedelic lushness of 'All Disco', until the very end of the process.
The departure of drummer Richard Jupp prior to commencing the writing and recording process in earnest saw early sessions characterised by new approaches to rhythm, with the band utilising percussive noises, sampling and loops to build tracks. The grooves that run through much of the album, from the go-go beats of 'Gentle Storm' through the jagged trip hop of 'Kindling' to the soulful 'Firebrand & Angel' represent both the band's widest musical palette and a newfound sense of experimentation borne from both necessity and desire. That desire fuelled the title track, an eight minute piece that is epic without at any point feeling excessive. As a shorthand for the album it is perfect, crossing musical genres and experimenting with sound in ways that demonstrate the confidence and enthusiasm of the band throughout the recording process.
'Little Fictions' is, therefore, more than just yet another brilliant elbow album. In many ways it marks the start of a new chapter for the band, characterised by a rediscovery of shared purpose in doing the thing that has always brought them together, the place that Mark describes as 'the creative space where we all meet'.

The exact relationship between Henry (T-Bone Burnett) and Howard Coward (Elvis Costello) remains ambiguous. They often referred to themselves as “One and a Half Brothers,” which might hint at their height difference or imply they were not actually siblings but were involved in an elaborate ruse. Their musical partnership, known as The Coward Brothers, was initiated by Smiley “Doc” Snipson, who discovered Henry Coward in 1956 and signed him for a UK tour. The brothers' hit single, “My Baby Just Squeals (You Heel),” was followed by less successful records and a controversial Cold War-themed song. To preserve their fading fame, Snipson orchestrated their supposed death in a plane crash, but they were actually in hiding on a Caribbean island, secretly recording music and sending it back to Snipson. When their funds ran out, they returned to Miami and made sensational claims about writing famous songs, leading to a brief stint as songwriters for Bill Bogguss. They later resumed recording, but their partnership eventually fractured, leading to years of estrangement. Their music, from early rock and roll hits to later, more introspective songs, is compiled in the album, The Coward Brothers. After years of silence, their story was explored in a radio program, revealing the complexity of their relationship and their enduring bond. Despite their tumultuous history, their music remains a testament to their unyielding spirit. The Coward Brothers are Elvis Costello and T-Bone Burnett. The Audible Original radio play, The True Story Of The Coward Brothers, is directed by Christopher Guest, and stars Howard Coward, Henry Coward, Harry Shearer, Edward Hibbert, Rhea Seehorn, Stephen Root, and Kathreen Khavari.

Was the lesson intended?
It hangs like mist in the air
And now the throne is upended
And the lesson is the son and the heir

Was the lesson intended?
It resonates in the sky
A shockwave in the heavens
Visible to the naked eye

Was the lesson intended?

Was the lesson intended?
It has soaked into the ground
It is felt in every movement
And is audible in every sound

Was the lesson intended?
It cannot be denied
It rings loud like thunder
Leaving our poets tongue-tied

Was the lesson intended?

Following his debut album Bisou Genou, released in October 2021, Frise Lumière are preparing the release of his second album Ambo (Experimental, minimalism, Noise Jazz, Avantgarde) for October 2024.Ambo is the outcome of numerous interactions from the past and present, affirming and advancing the research of his prepared bass's acoustic possibilities. His use of broomsticks, mallets, and drumsticks enhances his rhythmic playing. Whether he plays his instrument more conventionally or flat on his lap. A method that is already audible in a few of the tracks on his first LP

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

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

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

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

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

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

Worm Records is thrilled to present its debut release, featuring four tracks that blend danceable rhythms with melodic audible hints, from some of the scene's finest producers. The A Side kicks off with “Rockin”, a sonic deep-dive from Bristol-based producer Gallegos. Next up is “Festern” a track from Canadian native, The Mole with his deep trade-mark sound. The B Side switches the vibe with “Booster” a moody one from Wallace which feels like it lives in the same universe as Afefe Iku’s - “Mirror Dance”, but with the right amount stripped back. The final track on the EP is a stretched-out remix of Ruf Dug’s “Manctalo Beach”, a discofied journey by More Amour (Artwork & Jon Solo), described by Artwork at last year’s Pikes Halloween as Punk Electro.

All proceeds will support UK Food Banks through the LIVEFORLOVE campaign.

Big thanks to Prime for their incredible support on this project.

Designs by Jay Vaz & Daniel Lovrinov.

Introducing the new record by Hendriks Toth on Sofa Movements Records.

Hendriks summed it up in his own words:

"I am glad that my first LP on vinyl is being released on a Slovak label.

Part of this LP was recorded on the streets of Kolkata, India, and also in Tbilisi, Georgia. Travel is closely connected to my music, and this EP is no exception, which is probably audible. Interestingly, in the track 'Low Histamine,' I sing for the first time (though perhaps I wouldn't call it singing).

Since I don't usually release music in Slovakia, I am very pleased that such alternative music can be released on vinyl on a Slovak label, and I take my hat off to the label manager.

I hope you will enjoy it, or at least find it an unusual experience, whether positive or negative."

From Quinteros’ early rockabilly singles to his San Fran folk rock with the Au-Go Go’s, this collection highlights his Brent singles along with unissued material, acetates, demos & outtakes! Includes a booklet with liner notes & an interview with Eddie!

Eddie Quinteros was one precocious kid. Before he was old enough to drive, he was singing on live TV and flying to Hawai’i to rock out at stadium gigs. When his contemporaries were still in high school, he was hitting the charts with a tune he wrote himself, playing on an Alan Freed package tour, and making multiple appearances on American Bandstand. And before the San Francisco singer/guitarist was out of his teens, he’d already been screwed over by a shifty manager and sworn off the music business.

Along the way, Quinteros cut a handful of jumping singles showing that if he’d had the right breaks, he could have altered history. Ritchie Valens wouldn’t have been the era’s only Chicano rock ‘n’ roll hero. Quinteros’ Southern rockabilly influences are audible in his early singles, but they’re filtered through the more citified point of view of a San Francisco teen. And in the mid ‘60s, he reinvented himself as the frontman for the Au Go-Go’s, turning out a chiming, folk-rock flavored sound more in line with labelmates and fellow S.F.’ers the Beau Brummels.

All of Ed’s recorded output only amounted to a handful of 45s, but this collection sets things straight for posterity, featuring demos, unreleased tracks, live recordings, and acetates.

Norwegian talent Meera makes her Crosstown Rebelsdebut with the atmospheric ‘Stikk’. Landing on 30th August, the EP sees the young artist flex her production prowess with remixes from Dennis Cruz and Tripolism.

Riding the success of her debut single ‘Music For Humans’ in 2023, Norway’s Meera was swiftly recruited by Damian Lazarus, joining him at his Hï Ibiza residency before heading to Rebellion for the release of the resonant ‘Teflon’. The sought-after artist has shown no signs of slowing, releasing a series of remixes this year amongst European shows, festival appearances, and Ibiza
pit stops. Continuing this momentum, she now makes her label debut on Lazarus’ renowned Crosstown Rebels with ‘Stikk’, with imprint regular Dennis Cruz joining on remix duties alongside melodic Danish trio and former collaborators Tripolism, who also make their first outing on Crosstown.

Landing in realms of afro-house, Meera’s production is cool, confident, and creative. With eclectic influences audible throughout her standout sound, her ‘Stikk’ EP proves why she first garnered the attention of artists such as Jimi Jules and John Digweed. The title track leads with minimal climbing percussion, introspective piano melodies and delicate, dreamlike vocals. In contrast, Tripolism’s remix turns up the intensity to a biting crescendo, adding sharp synths for a more dancefloor-focused feeling. ‘Sykkelkurv’ reaches for higher planes of emotion with its atmospheric soundscape, moody chords and driving drums, toeing the line between light and dark. Next, Dennis Cruz’s interpretation drives the track off the line and into deeper rhythms with chunky low-ends, picking up the pace for peak time. Digital purchasers are treated to a bonus track titled ‘Stikk Reprise’, a pulsating trip back into the lead single, with a heightened focus on the song's hypnotic vocals and raw emotive energy.

Before Uriah Heep there was Fat Toe, and before Fat Toe there was The Gods, who recorded this risqué hard prog album, Orgasm, as Head Machine. Singer/keyboardist/guitarist Ken Hensley takes centre stage under the alias Ken Leslie, his lyrics alluding to the undeniable allure of human coitus and aspects of its management, the climax eventually coming in audible groans, though the guitar really drives most of the songs forward, with stereo panning. Produced by David Paramour, who had worked with Garnett Mimms and The Nocturnes, it was recorded in late 1969 and released in small number by Major Minor; this reissue spins at 45 RPM for improved fidelity.