Search:audible

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

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!!

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.

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.

The new album ”ICON” by Sweden’s Liar Thief Bandit is something else. After 200 shows and numerous landmark anthems, everything has led up to the fourth full-length album that truly lives up to its name. ”ICON” is a staple and instant classic on the rock scene, blending everything you would ever wish for in a melodic rock record. The raw and pure elements are caught on tape in a live setting to capture the true essence of the band, the melodies are added with clinical precision. The heartfelt lyrics set the tone to deliver a melancholic and insightful message. From the first intense second to the last, you’ll be overwhelmed with a dynamic soundscape rarely witnessed in this genre. Every element serves its purpose musically as well as lyrically. The listener should be prepared for an 11 track long journey through exceptional audible environments, dark passages and hopeful awakenings. ”ICON” is recorded, produced and mixed at Studio Sickan in Malmö by the multiple award-winning Joakim Lindberg who has worked with The Dahmers, Terrible Feelings, Nightmen, Black River Delta, Solen, Arre! Arre! among many others. ICON is released by The Sign Records on May 24, 2024. The album is released on black vinyl, transparent orange vinyl, and digitally. For fans of: The Hellacopters, Turbonegro, Kiss, Danko Jones, Foo Fighters, Thin Lizzy

The new album ”ICON” by Sweden’s Liar Thief Bandit is something else. After 200 shows and numerous landmark anthems, everything has led up to the fourth full-length album that truly lives up to its name. ”ICON” is a staple and instant classic on the rock scene, blending everything you would ever wish for in a melodic rock record. The raw and pure elements are caught on tape in a live setting to capture the true essence of the band, the melodies are added with clinical precision. The heartfelt lyrics set the tone to deliver a melancholic and insightful message. From the first intense second to the last, you’ll be overwhelmed with a dynamic soundscape rarely witnessed in this genre. Every element serves its purpose musically as well as lyrically. The listener should be prepared for an 11 track long journey through exceptional audible environments, dark passages and hopeful awakenings. ”ICON” is recorded, produced and mixed at Studio Sickan in Malmö by the multiple award-winning Joakim Lindberg who has worked with The Dahmers, Terrible Feelings, Nightmen, Black River Delta, Solen, Arre! Arre! among many others. ICON is released by The Sign Records on May 24, 2024. The album is released on black vinyl, transparent orange vinyl, and digitally. For fans of: The Hellacopters, Turbonegro, Kiss, Danko Jones, Foo Fighters, Thin Lizzy

'Quintela', the debut album by Carme López, a performer, teacher and researcher of traditional oral music from Galicia, is a new experimental work for Galician bagpipe. Influenced by the approach of composers like Éliane Radigue or Pauline Oliveros, the Spanish composer creates slowly modulating sound environments, and stretches the sonic the possibilities of the bagpipe to its absolute limit. 'Quintela' is structured in four movements, plus a prologue and an epilogue, which serve as a link to the contemporary language of the instrument.

The bagpipe is strongly tied to traditional musics; its use in different genres and musical contexts is extremely limited and unimaginative. 'Quintela' brings it to a wholly unknown field, decontextualising the bagpipe in order to elevate a personal approach, and leaving behind its male-dominated past (in which it relates to ideas of prestige, dominance or carries even sexual connotations). López expertly demonstrates its grandeur and breadth; the music on 'Quintela' ranges from barely audible sounds of air passing through the hide bag through rhythmical use of its reeds to all-encompassing drones with complex harmonic structures and vibrant overtones.

The narrative arc focuses on the composer's past, its people and places, and could be conceived as a journey in and of itself. A homage to those in our memories, but also a step into the unknown, 'Quintela' is an ambitious, graceful and captivating debut.

Lapell's deft lyrics jostle with love song tropes, grappling with love's finitude and the irony of how codependency and longing are revered in popular music. A ghost story is woven through the album: waltzing in the dusty barroom country of "Blue Blaze," buried in the superstitious lyrical streak of "Rattlesnake" and audible in a wheezing organ as it shuts down at the end of "Footsteps."

Still, "Anniversary" emerges as an earnest celebration of commitment. Earworms like "Anniversary Song" and "Someone Like You" showcase intricately layered harmonies, while closer "Stars" affirms that there's no place the speaker would rather be than with the one she loves. Dekker and Lapell assembled a stellar cast of musicians to support Lapell's powerhouse vocals, piano, harmonica and signature fingerstyle guitar.

The core band includes Dan Fortin on bass, Jake Oelrichs on drums, and Tania Gill on the church's piano, harpsichord and organ. Rounding out the ensemble's sensitive orchestral arrangements are Rebecca Hennessy (trumpet), Rachael Cardiello (viola), Michael Davidson (marimba and vibraphone) and Joe Lapinsky (pedal steel), who also engineered and mixed the record. Abigail Lapell has garnered three Canadian Folk Music Awards, hit number one on Canadian folk radio and reached a staggering 40 million + streams across digital services. She has toured widely across Canada and the U.S, and will be touring internationally (UK, EU, AUS and more) in 2024.

We Release JAZZ is very happy to announce an exciting new body of work by Joseph Deenmamode aka Mo Kolours. The singular musical spirit’s new 21-track album Original Flow is available as a double LP housed in a heavy 350gsm sleeve with original artwork by Mo Kolours himself and the classic WRJ obi strip, as well as in digipack CD and digital formats.

A catalog of critically acclaimed records, including his self-titled debut (2014), ‘Texture Like Like Sun’ (2015), 2018 album ‘Inner Symbols’ and three companion EPs, established Deenmamode as a prodigious musician and vocalist. Pitchfork extolled his “hypnotic, tribal-infused dance grooves”, DJ Mag appreciated the “colourful celebration of soundsystem culture”, and Resident Advisor advocated that “no one sounds quite like Mo Kolours”. Musical analogies were drawn by The Guardian as “The best album Curtis Mayfield never made with A Tribe Called Quest and Lee Perry” and Mojo as “like Marvin Gaye produced by J Dilla”.

Five years ago, Deenmamode moved to the Japanese countryside. Far away from familiarity, he contemplated his place and further questioned his identity. “I had none of my ‘own’ people around. I had time to really find what makes me tick musically. Japan has helped me go back to those subconscious leanings, really go deep, and reflect the aspects that make up my story”.

The tracks on ‘Original Flow’ have been constructed from sessions, improvisations and soundbites captured around the world during this time; collecting contributions from musicians including Deenamode’s brothers Reginald Omas Mamode and Jeen Bassa plus Andrew Ashong, Charles Bullen, Dwaye Kilvington, Eddie Hick, Stefan Asanovic, Myele Manzanza, Ross Hughes, and Tom Dreissler. Deenamode says “I’m proud of this album’s creative process. Coming from a tradition of scouring through hours of records, I wanted to create my own samples, to find that perfect loop that no other producer could put their hands on. I decided to invite a group of friends and acquaintances, who also happen to be incredible musicians, to a studio in Crystal Palace to improvise based on some loose ideas I had. We spent all day, and recorded everything”.

‘Original Flow’ is an album of UK street-soul nouveau, future indigenous jazz fusion, Rasta Segga, Nyahbinghi jazz, Malagasy Hebrew hip hop. While retaining a spirit of exploration and improvisation, it sees Deenmamode grow and flex beyond beat tape brevity, expanding composition and stretching his musical muscle to play live with other musicians. Themes of empowerment, overcoming adversity, and mental liberation coexist with notes from ancient history, futurism, and science, as well as musings on family and togetherness.

‘Magik Momentum’ springs from a discussion that features at the start of the song, an inspiring mentor answering a question from Deenmamode about improvisation and what role it plays in life when planning and manifesting the future. ‘Rockets to Mars’ questions the lack of care for the billions of people with nothing, while governments plan to explore space. “This sparked a comparison in my mind to a Sonny Okuson song that I would reference when performing. Okuson’s song talked of the lack of resources in many communities in the world, while governments go to the moon”.

He says the music behind ‘The News These Days’ is “possibly my favourite on the album”. Looped like he would a late sixty jazz-fusion sample, there was nothing added and the track was complete within a matter of minutes. “It was the first and best moment from the entire Crystal Palace session”, he adds. The album’s contrasting title track with minimal instrumentation played solo by Deenamode. While frustratingly searching for gems in past recordings, he thought in a burst of ego, “I don’t need no-one else to make a dope beat!” picked up his ravanne, (the traditional frame drum of his fathers home-land of Mauritius), pressed record, and started to play. He says, “In my thoughts were the rhythms of the Nubians in Upper-Egypt and Sudan, the swing of the huge drums played by Mauritanian women, of-course the Sega beat of Mauritius, and the ever inspiring beat of James Yancey”.

Driven by UK broken beat, Cuban congas, Nigerian and Mauritian inflections, ‘Love Vibration’ follows the concept that all emotions carry a vibratory frequency and pays homage to the frequency of creation and the power of love. The two part ‘Tatamaka’ tells of the history of Deenmamode’s ancestors, the maroons of Mauritius. “We are people who managed to run from our oppressors and find refuge in a corner of the island called ‘Le Morne’ where they could not reach us. One bloody day they came in numbers to re-capture, to revenge. Many of us chose to jump to our deaths, rather than be taken back into subjugation. The poem by Creole Richard Sedley Assonne says; “there were hundreds of them, but my people, the maroons chose the kiss of death over the chains of slavery”. Tatamaka was the name of a famed maroon leader who was murdered for claiming his, and our people’s freedom. The song is the imagined journey of escape and freedom by an ancestor of the maroons of Le Morne”.

Born in the west midlands and raised on the traditional sega music of his father’s Indian Ocean homeland of Mauritius alongside records by the likes of Jimi Hendrix, Santana and Michael Jackson; his influences expanded with late 90s jungle and drum and bass nights in Bristol, experiments at art college in Camberwell, and the rich culture of Peckham, “at the time we called it the Afro Quarters of London” says Deenmamode, adding hip hop, dub, soul and soundsystem styles to his individual sound.

He explains, “I love drum music, from hand-drums to 808s. I love music from the ancient past, heritage music, indigenous music, traditional music passed down from the beginning of time. Music from the body, hand claps, grunts and foot stomps. Music with audible depth, busy, bustling, highly charged. Music from the soul, the music from beyond. I love music from the islands and the mountains. The music of the streets, hustle music, alleyway beats. Club music”.

He describes the creative process as thinking in images. “The visual world and the world of sound seem to intermingle in my thought process. When I play the drum with my eyes closed, a world of imagery dances and moves with beat. Improvised drumming feels like I am listening to what I want to hear, rather than trying to play what I want to hear. Following the rhythm and finding new pathways to walk within the patterns is what I experience. In this way I often feel I am just a listener, instead of the player”.
Original Flow is pressed on biovinyl, a sustainable alternative to traditional vinyl. Biovinyl replaces petroleum in S-PVC by recycling used cooking oil or industrial waste gases, resulting in 100% CO2 savings in bio-based S-PVC production. Furthermore, it is 100% recyclable and reusable, embracing the circular economy ideology.

Repress of Child's sophomore album Blueside. "Mathias Northway and co. managed to keep the fuzzy blues sound going with an extra stimulating drive to the effects to their audible fingerprint. The entirety of this forty minute long, five track record is nothing short of a regal and hypnotic journey that not even hallucinogens could interpret." - Heavy Magazine

Cyan blue vinyl, limited to 350 copies. Repress of Child's sophomore album Blueside. "Mathias Northway and co. managed to keep the fuzzy blues sound going with an extra stimulating drive to the effects to their audible fingerprint. The entirety of this forty minute long, five track record is nothing short of a regal and hypnotic journey that not even hallucinogens could interpret." - Heavy Magazine

After 7 studio albums with both Secretly Canadian and Western Vinyl Records over the last 20+ years, Early Day Miners have returned with their latest offering, and their first with Solid Brass Records, titled Outside Lies Magic. Early Day Miners' surroundings have always been reflected in their sound. Their early compositions, while in Bloomington, IN, mirrored the seemingly inescapable expanse of the Midwest. Now based in New Orleans their sound has yielded a subtle but correlative shift in the band. Outside Lies Magic offers an audible lightness. Most notably Dan Burton’s voice, once hushed and at times hesitant, is now full-bodied and sure; his heart, once tenuously carried on his sleeve, is now firmly in his throat. And though this might be the leanest the lineup has been, they are focused and warm, exuding the maximalism of their new home with nuance and a laissez-faire approach. Early Day Miners sound as unhurried as ever, but never aimless; Early Day Miners have finally arrived.

After 7 studio albums with both Secretly Canadian and Western Vinyl Records over the last 20+ years, Early Day Miners have returned with their latest offering, and their first with Solid Brass Records, titled Outside Lies Magic. Early Day Miners' surroundings have always been reflected in their sound. Their early compositions, while in Bloomington, IN, mirrored the seemingly inescapable expanse of the Midwest. Now based in New Orleans their sound has yielded a subtle but correlative shift in the band. Outside Lies Magic offers an audible lightness. Most notably Dan Burton’s voice, once hushed and at times hesitant, is now full-bodied and sure; his heart, once tenuously carried on his sleeve, is now firmly in his throat. And though this might be the leanest the lineup has been, they are focused and warm, exuding the maximalism of their new home with nuance and a laissez-faire approach. Early Day Miners sound as unhurried as ever, but never aimless; Early Day Miners have finally arrived.

The early-mid "80s had their share of insane combos -- The Birthday Party, Black Flag and Minor Threat had the raw power to melt your mind in seconds. SWANS, Einsturzende Neubauten and Big Black created enough overwhelming sonic pressure their sounds might actually flatten you. And Sonic Youth displayed such a dizzyingly unpredictable mix of art, pop culture and violence you"d sometimes leave their shows drooling. The Buttholes shared elements with all of these groups, but added an insane psychedelic edge and a propensity for bizarre spectacle. This evolution continued on "Rembrandt Pussyhorse," which featured a set of tunes for which the Buttholes" rock-based form destruction was mixed with experimental, tape-mangling passages of many flavors. Haynes was handling all audible vocals by this point, and his mastery of post-tongue dynamism was finally in full flight. Meanwhile, their live shows became legendary examples of excess and derangement, and their music just kept getting louder and stranger and more savage. It was the diametric opposite of the hardcore scene from which it had emerged, which was heading in ever more codified and stylistically conservative directions.

tapetopia 015 The name L’Ambassadeur des Ombres goes back to the
French science fiction comic “Valérian et Laureline”. The Ambassadors of the Shadows combined pop appeal and experimentation as the soundtrack to the zero hour of their generation in the GDR’s waning days. The music was made in a children’s room, but the edifice of ideas was a demolition site. L’Ambassadeur des Ombres existed as a hybrid of the wave bands Die Vision and Neuntage. The open ensemble’s family tree can however be traced back to buried DIY projects such as the Mahlsdorfer Wohnstuben Orchester, Zerstörte Umwelt and dark-wave protagonists Fellini Prostitutes or Nontoxic. In the short time of their existence in 1988/89, L’Ambassadeur des Ombres did not give a single concert. The tape “Strike Me If I Shriek” was circulated among friends and musicians only as an on-request work report – it’s a long overdue discovery. The tapetopia series, using the original layouts and track lists, publishes cassette editions from the GDR underground of the 1980s, especially from the “walled-in” scene in East Berlin. More than three decades after their initial “release”, most of these tapes have yet to be heard on either vinyl or CD, even though they made an audible mark in the canon of GDR subculture. Despite the tiny original editions of the time, many of the bands were considered cult in countercultural circles, which made them highly suspect in informed circles.

Los Angeles duo crushed announce their signing to Ghostly International and the first vinyl pressing of their 2023 debut EP, extra life. A love letter to `90s radio, the first collaboration from musicians Bre Morell and Shaun Durkan finds them tuning a shared taste for maximalist dream pop. Open-hearted hooks and melodic riffs move through a haze of breakbeats, spliced sound design, and distortion. Faithful yet fluid in its channeling of golden age alt-rock, Britpop, trip-hop, and electronica, there's a refreshing freedom to the sound, which quickly resonated with fans and critics upon initial release. Pitchfork called it "effortless, widescreen dream pop that's serene without being sentimental," and NPR cited its "deep sense of place and time." The music also struck Ghostly, and the first measure for crushed and their new label home is to give extra life a wider physical release paired with remixes from band favorites Real Lies and DJ Python. The story of crushed is written across midnight transmissions. In the early 2010s, Morell, who fronts the band Temple of Angels (Run For Cover Records), hosted a graveyard shift college radio show and used to play music from Durkan's former band Weekend (Slumberland Records). In 2020, Durkan, having focused on production work (Tamaryn, Young Prisms) following Weekend's run as a formidable shoegaze act, hosted a late-night program on a community radio station in San Francisco. Driving one day, he heard Temple of Angels by chance and was immediately drawn to Morell's voice. He added a song that night to his on-air tracklist. Morell saw it and reached out to thank him and point to that connection made a decade earlier. The exchange sparked a long-distance project. First, they filled an audible moodboard with `90s classics from the likes of Natalie Imbruglia, Sneaker Pimps, and The Sundays. Songs that transported them back to places of comfort and discovery; Morell's memories of a metallic, lavender boombox that dispatched past sounds from a world beyond her Houston suburbia, and Durkan, in his mom's car on the way to band practice. These touchpoints provided a palette for crushed to experiment without expectations, purely for the fun of it. A creative intimacy emerged; stepping outside the reverb walls of her full band, Morell embraced more clarity and a range of emotions in her vocals, while Durkan looked inward as a producer, collaging fragments from their everyday lives: voice memos, piano recordings, even the panting of Morell's late dog on "milksugar." The wistful ballad embodies extra life's feeling as a whole. "I am home again," sings Morell; her refrain cycles above a drum machine beat as Durkan colors their universe with star-lit strums, synth swells, and the crackle of fireworks in the distance. Elsewhere, the duo's uptempo mode is equally effective, like the super-charged duet "coil" or the propulsive opener "waterlily," which sets a cinematic tone for the set. Bold, bright, and replayable, extra life presents crushed as a project of immense promise, two artists unlocking something special within themselves, a space to hold both melancholy and bliss. Durkan adds, "To me, extra life is true and pure - in a way I haven't felt about music in a really really long time."

Introducing, the experimental violinist and performer Vanessa Bedoret.

The London-based French musician today announces that she’ll be joining, Scenic Route, a label renowned for selecting and nourishing rising stars for the release of her debut album, Eyes, due out on 8th of March 2024. Launching with a taste of what’s to come, today she also shares single “1/2”, a textural track that tells of the dichotomy between those who are selfless and those who are self-centred, and their need to merge as one. This duality is reflected in the industrial metallic echoes under Vanessa’s soaring vocals and the piercing strings of her chosen instrument, the violin.

Treating songwriting as an instinctive process, Bedoret transforms her deeply personal experiences into pure emotion. Not following any set narrative, Eyes takes the listener on a journey via their own experiences, prompting introspection through Bedoret’s hypnotic melodies.

Through the album, she awakens the audience's imagination, to open up their emotional response. On “Ballad”, a vague, loving lyrical letter to someone close, Bedoret’s heartbreakingly soft lament is barely audible over the dramatic atonal strings. She flips her narrative again in the titular track, “Eyes”, so the listener empathises through her isolated violin, and takes on her anguish, not needing to understand the full story.

Bedoret began her classical training at age 6 and on completion at 18 she embraced the thrill of playing guitar in punk bands, and like many at the turn of adulthood, was quickly captured by the allure of the dancefloor. Her far-reaching taste doesn’t stop there, she also counts black metal to opera and from eurodance to IDM as inspiration. Her deep understanding of musical form elevates her experimentation to a truly unique sonic experience, one that never strays too far from her original love of classical music.

With only a string of releases under her belt via independent labels like Laura Lies In and Archaic Vaults, her refined skillset has meant she’s been in high demand for both solo shows and collaborations. These accolades include playing violin with New York avant garde collective Standing On The Corner at The Serpentine, as well as a part of Kahil El’Zabar conducts MOKI at the ICA, and Linder: Another Music in a Different Arcadia at the Design Museum alongside artist Linder Sterling, Naima Cherry, Maxwell Sterling, Kenichi Iwasa & Ella Frears.

For her solo performances, she’s shared stages with Standing on the Corner, Ekaterina Bazhenova-Yamasaki, Philomème Pirecki, John T. Gast and Nexcyia to name a few. She’s also performed as a duo alongside musician Severin Black in support of their collaborative EP release, First Passage / Excommunicated.

Through the lens of a life lived to it’s fullest and one that does not shy from experiencing the rawest of emotions, it’s clear that Bedoret has a nack for translating personal observations into cinematic crescendoes. The field recordings throughout only heighten this feeling adding both a grounding and other worldy sensibility. Lyrically, she allows you to peek into her private world and for a fleeting moment letting you lock eyes with hers, asking what do you see?

This debut is a glowing experimental work that purrs with a distinctive narrative. Vanessa Bedoret is a promising new act, ready to take 2024 by storm.

For a few years Leo Robinson was the sort of hidden secret you sometimes come across in local music scenes. First in Manchester and now in Glasgow, he’d pop up regularly on DIY bills or as local support to a touring act, quietly blowing them off stage with his rich baritone vocal and homespun lo-fi tales of folklore and animism. With The Temple – his debut on PRAH Recordings – he looks set to cross over from being a cult concern.

“There's a spectrum within the album between fully mythologising or symbolising my lived experience, and just stating it in very matter of fact terms - that push and pull between the need to abstract and the need to break through the abstraction and have an honest moment with oneself” he explains. “This is one of the themes of the album as well as part of the process. The aim was to take all these anecdotal or symbolic elements and merge them into one narrative and one world, in a way that you can find your way through the record as if it were a landscape or language with its own logic.”

The record takes on a pastoral, slightly baroque nature that Robinson partly attributes to a friend screening a lot of ‘70s BBC material in his book shop that they used to hang out at. There are also elements of jazz, flickering to life in “The Spring”’s piano-led finale and coda.

Thematically, Robinson likens it to a Jungian ‘Hero's Journey’, his voice possessing a character who goes through several defined stages of consciousness. From conception and the beginning of an earthly life, the first half of the album recognises the development of the protagonist’s narrative and identity, before “The Pink Light”’s freeform departure from the hitherto more song-based suite devastatingly shatters this. The second half of the album then sees the protagonist witness “the uncontainable” water; learning that true divinity lies not in the individual self or lofty notions of gods and temples, but in the unremarkable nettles, insects and dogs on the roadside riverbank - referenced on tracks “The Cormorant” and “The Spring”.

Although now residing north of the border, The Temple was written while Robinson was finding his feet in Manchester, having moved there to go to art school as a teenager (as a visual artist, he has exhibited at the Tiwani Contemporary in London and Cardiff’s Chapter Arts Centre). As a result, many of the tracks bear out the shadows of his experiences in the northern city – at their most visible and explicit on the beautifully fragile storytelling of “The Pavement”. Written the day after the Manchester Arena Bombings, it recalls Robinson waking up to go to work on a hot summer’s day to discover that his street had been blocked off for terrorism investigations; it then progresses through the rest of his day, amidst the grimly surreal aftermath of the previous night.

Having written the chords, melodies and lyrics to the album, Robinson fleshed out the tunes by scoring out parts for the additional instrumentation, but it was only when a friend sent a demo to PRAH that he was able to fund its full recording. Guitars, vocals, piano and French Horn (the latter recorded by Lauren Reeve-Rawlings) were put down at Green Door Studios in Glasgow. Microphones were placed around the room and the sound of the musicians stepping on creaky floorboards and opening creaky doors were left audible to further the record’s live feel. The harpsichord heard on “The Serpent”, meanwhile, came from University of Glasgow lecturer David McGuinness. Strings were then recorded at PRAH Studios by Francesca Ter-Berg and Raven Bush, the Social Singing Choir adding their choral vocals to “Temple II”.

The result is an album that feels both luscious and yet intimately raw; as grand as Richard Dawson at his most panoramic but containing the rough edges and skeletal looseness of a Calvin Johnson work. At times Robinson lyrically moves towards the surreal, but ultimately this is a record grounded in reality; a true showcase of Robinson’s skill as a lyricist and songwriter.

First vinyl edition of the album Rhetorical Islands, originally released by Giuseppe Ielasi in 2012 as a limited-edition CD on his Senufo Editions label, with recordings made in 2011 as a commission for l’Audible Festival, Paris.

The album’s ten tracks have neither titles nor accompanying text, standing for themselves as what Ielasi himself has called “isolated sound worlds”. They are nonetheless unparalleled in their plasticity, acoustic events with a rare degree of tangibility. Ielasi evokes physical objects, some of which seem to have been constructed out of paper and cardboard, others based on a mechanics of elastic materials. Of course these objects are hallucinations, and precisely because Ielasi constructs them so masterfully there’s no need for any further information. Here’s to everyone creating their very own sculptures while listening to Rhetorical Islands!

The front and back cover features 0.058, a work on paper by the artists Thomas & Renée Rapedius. They make sculptures whose form and artistic inspiration are defined by their materials. Like Ielasi’s acoustic islands, their impact derives from self-referentiality, resulting in paradoxical objects that embody both a detailed material study and a potential for free association.

Die für ihr Debütalbum 'Lost In Paradise' 2017 GRAMMY-nominierten Pop-Reggae-Vorreiter Common Kings releasen den Nachfolger CELEBRATION. Die amerikanisch-hawaiianisch-polynesische Combo aus Kalifornien vereint Genres und Einflüsse aus Reggae, Pop, Rock, R&B, Hip-Hop und Dancehall zu einer zusammenhängenden Wohlfühlplatte mit dynamischem Sound. CELEBRATION ist genau das für Common Kings - eine Möglichkeit, auf ein Jahrzehnt musikalischer Exzellenz anzustoßen und dabei eine wirklich gute Zeit zu haben. An der Platte wirkten Reggae-Grössen wie J Boog, Demarco, Kabaka Pyramid und Marc E. Bassy sowie Produzenten wie The Audibles und Poo Bear mit.

In 1948, Moses Asch founded Folkways Records with a self-proclaimed mandate to record the sounds of the entire world. From the Sounds of North American Frogs to Speech After the Removal of the Larynx, Folkways documented the audible nooks and crannies of existence on hundreds of LPs produced by field recordists, scientists, and experimentalists probing the margins of the human soundscape. Seventy-five years later, electronic music duo Matmos have diced, looped, stretched, and recontextualized these recordings on their new album Return to Archive, which was assembled entirely from the so-called non-musical sounds released on Folkways. On just the album’s first track, dolphins, beetles, telephones, humans stretching the limits of their vocal cords, a shortwave radio, and metal balers co-mingle in a fantasia of sound both everyday and extraordinary. Each track on Return to Archive morphs its source material into something completely unexpected, honoring and expanding on Folkways’ legacy of sonic exploration. Featuring Evicshen and Aaron Dilloway.

tapetopia 010 FO 32 extra hart arbeitendes rastermaterial für kontakt did not emerge from the usual underground milieu – their setting was the base of the 4th Flotilla of the GDR People’s Navy! The propaganda unit PrK 18 had among its recruits some who turned the logistics for agitation against the intentions of the system. Inside a barracks, but under the state radar, the paramilitary music corps FO 32 boarded an NVA studio and recorded industrial tracks and dark ambient. The experimental military band gave an illegal concert; they had previously been heard on the radio programme “Parocktikum”, a pirate gig from the ranks of the People’s Navy on GDR radio. In 1989, a first FO-32 tape was shared among just a few friends. Shortly after, an abridged mix of material was released on the illegal Trash Tape label in an edition of no more than one hundred copies. The vinyl version on tapetopia is based on the original tape. The tapetopia series, using the original layouts and track lists, publishes cassette editions from the GDR underground of the 1980s, especially from the “walled-in” scene in East Berlin. More than three decades after their initial “release”, these tapes have yet to be heard on either vinyl or CD, even though they made an audible mark in the canon of GDR subculture. Despite the tiny original editions of the time, many of the bands were considered cult in countercultural circles, which made them highly suspect in informed circles.