Buscar:auto kinetic

Last Year's Altered Mind Opus, Sapa Inca Delirium, Showcased The Cyclist At His Most Eclectic, Spanning Ayahuasca Break-beat And Rave Jungle Pop, But His Latest Ep Returns To The Uniquely Kinetic And Shredded Mode Of Churning Electronic Rhythm He Both Named And Perfected: 'tape Throb.' Alabaster Thrones Collects Four Of Andrew Morrison's Recent And Most Vibrantly Blasted House Constructs, Tracked At His Home Studio In Birmingham, Uk During 'the Height Of Mania - A Time When I Had No Time.' The Context Translates: This Is Urgent, Accelerating Music, Shifting Gears At High Speed In Dim Twisting Tunnels. The Title Is 'a Deflation Of Grandiosity' Cribbed From Ulysses ('...a Noble Race, Rulers Of The Waves, Who Sit On Thrones Of Alabaster, Silent As The Deathless Gods'), Though Morrison's Meaning Is More Personal: 'it's A Reminder To Level Yourself And Think Of All Those Around You.' A Captivating Capsule Of Ravaged Forward Motion For A Ravaged Forward-moving Age. Mastered By Eric Hanson. Design By Britt Brown.

The sibling duo behind the music on Graceful Degradation — organ and drums, nothing more, nothing less — carve out a sound that feels unmistakably organic in a world drifting steadily toward the synthetic. Their interplay is entirely live, subtle in its details yet dynamic in its momentum, built on the kind of instinctive communication only brothers can share.
The music is fully instrumental, unfolding in a borderland where dreamy retro pop dissolves into the hazy textures of shoegaze and the unruly pulse of noisy, electronic leaning jazz. It’s a sonic world that feels both familiar and elusive, nostalgic yet inherently restless. Melodies shimmer and blur, rhythms swell and contract, and the space between the notes becomes as expressive as the notes themselves.
What emerges is a sound that resists easy categorization: warm but unpredictable, intimate yet expansive, grounded in the physicality of two musicians performing in real time. The organ breathes like a living organism, shifting from soft focus ambience to swirling, saturated harmonics, while the drums move with a fluid, human elasticity — sometimes whisper quiet, sometimes erupting with raw, kinetic force.
In this in between terrain, the duo has always found its identity and its freedom. Their music doesn’t chase perfection; it chases presence. It embraces imperfection, celebrates spontaneity, and insists on staying alive in a landscape where so much is becoming weightless and automated.
This is instrumental music with a pulse: subtle, dynamic, and unmistakably human.

Irlam's dastardly duo are back with another bonza bucket of bass, breaks and badness as they fire up Studio Krust for another high octane session.
Sure to top the Fairground charts and further enrage the Hell's Angels, 'Synthetic Stupidity' sees the pair unleash their full force unabashed, as they hit a purple patch full of new found and frankly quite surprising productivity (rumours of a European-wide sputnik shortage are the likely catalyst).

Fractionally distilling their many collective years of dance music experience into 12 refined pieces of advanced club kinetics that skirt between the syncopated intricacies of breakbeat science and maxed-out 4/4 propulsion.
More hyped-up vox & frantic sampling, more tension, tons of one-finger keyboard melodies, and - as usual - moments of sonic tomfoolery to flummox the assumers.
With their drug debts paid off and a forced clarity of mind, 'Synthetic Stupidity' is a more expansive, deeper and unhurried project; allowing Bosco and Metrodome the space and time to truly deliver the zenith of their sound.

This, is DJ ABSOLUTELY SHIT!!!

Loaded with tension and anchored by bold textural and stylistic contrasts, Sam Slater’s third solo full-length finds the British sound artist, composer, and engineer grappling with his creative contradictions head-on.

Having spent a life time in bands and producing records, Sam transitioned somewhat by accident through his work with Johan Johansson into working as a composer on high profile projects such as his collaboration with Hildur Guðnadóttir on the Grammy Award-winning Joker and Chernobyl, and with Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Mstyslav Chernov on the soundtrack to the lauded 2000 Meters to Andriivka. Having a vast set of interests and influences is an asset when helping realise a directors vision for a soundtrack, but one's own musical voice can end up being constrained. In Lunng, Slater has gone back to his wildly divergent range of influences and rather than shy away from the extremes, he's used them to create a singular vision.

Take the opening track “Heatsick”: Slater imagines an extravagant fusion of 2000s drone metal and vintage British brass, welding ear-splitting overdriven drones and blown-out choral vocals to stirring trombone swells from veteran player Hilary Jeffery. On paper, it’s hard to imagine—but Slater’s intentionality conducts these polarizing elements into a surreal blur of sonic extremes, with the guitars’ relative harshness softened by Jeffery’s eerily nostalgic colliery echoes.

His last solo album, I do not wish to be known as a Vandal (Bedroom Community, 2022), showcased this breadth by assembling a team of collaborators including Sam Dunscombe and Yair Elazar Glotman. On this record he’s linking up with acclaimed multi-instrumentalist Maria W. Horn, idiosyncratic sax virtuoso Bendik Giske, versatile percussionist Adam Betts, and the aforementioned Jeffery, Slater ushers these players toward a lattice of calculated confutations.

Working to explore the tension between the divergent practices of his collaborators—Lunng was meant to be challenging. On “Praya”, Giske’s familiar overblown horn phrases are almost vaporized, vanishing among Slater’s weightless synths and Horn’s chillingly hoarse vocals. There are traces of Horn’s Funeral Folk project, but Slater shifts the emphasis, letting her voice brush past the other elements like a hallucination.

Slater’s use of extremes isn’t just in the micro; dynamics drive the album’s overall flow. “Praya” sets the stage for the record’s heaviest, most prickly moment: “Passengers”. Here, Horn’s voice cracks, rasps, and gurgles over serrated synths and Betts’ ritualistic drums. Slater turns an industrial symphony into a folk opera—dark, dramatic, and strangely beautiful—etched with Giske’s fluttering phrases.

But the mood soon shifts. Slater careens toward chaos, unleashing double-time rhythms and piercing textures familiar to anyone with a soft spot for classic black metal. These grotesque incongruities are deliberate; Slater surveys years of musical conflict and leans in, using dissent as fuel to build kinetic energy.

The weight of sentimentality bears down on “Black Metal Rewind (Night Drive Astra, 2006)”, melting teenage memories into hypnagogic ambience—shoegaze dreams whirled with angelic choral delusions. On “Death by Nostalgia, 1688”, he ventures further into polarizing territory, distorting AutoTuned voices with cryptic strings and medieval tonalities, unsettling any stable sense of past or present.

In this record Slater focuses on pure energy, color, and mood. Lunng distills years of listening into a bracing brew—boiling each sound down to its essence, then serving it with unflinching intent.

John Twells, 2025

Indonesian duo Kuntari make music that's so distinctive, they had to devise their own genre: primal-core. On Mutu Beton, multiinstrumentalist Tesla Manaf and percussionist Rio Abror dialog with both history and their tropical surroundings in Bandung, West Java's mountainous capital. Using the cornet and hulusi, a free reed instrument made from a bottle gourd and bamboo pipes, Manaf echoes the bellows of local elephants, orangutans and rhinos, grazing Abror's ancestral Indonesian rhythms with potent overdriven riffs and evocative microtonal chimes.

It's music that's profoundly atmospheric and simultaneously raw, recorded live to fully encapsulate the dynamic and deeply human interaction between the two seasoned players. There are elements of sludge metal, noise and post-hardcore, references to traditional folk music and jazz, and gestures towards sound art, 20th century minimalism and dark ambient, but what Kuntari do is completely idiosyncratic -- it's hardly surprising it needed a similarly unique categorization.

Manaf started Kuntari as a solo project, debuting in 2020 with Black Shirt Attracts More Feather and animating his nimble instrumental improvisations with bold electronic processes and booming synthetic drums. And by the time he recorded 2022's acclaimed Last Boy Picked, his approach had evolved significantly; prioritizing organic sounds, he played prepared cornet and piano, bringing in additional percussionists to help devise a ritualistic rhythm section. Abror was one of those performers, and ended up sticking around, playing on 2023's furious LARYNX/STRIDULA, the stylistic precursor for Mutu Beton. At this stage, the duo have racked up a litany of accolades and collaborated with a spectrum of like-minded artists, from noise deity Keiji Haino to fellow Indonesian free-thinker Rully Shabara, who's best known for his work with Senyawa and avant-garde supergroup Osmium. Mutu Beton plays like a lap of honor, showcasing their most kinetic and most feral recordings to date. Kuntari surpass their own high standards, folding history and geography in on itself and suggesting a trailblazing Indonesian cultural movement that's not restricted by highbrow Western conventions. It's not just automation and technology that drives progression, it's interaction and observation. And there's nothing more primal, or revolutionary, than that.

Following nearly 20 years of working together as a trio, and numerous cross-collaborations in different configuration between them, Ideologic Organ presents Placelessness, the debut full-length by Chris Abrahams, Oren Ambarchi, and Robbie Avenaim, comprising two long-form works at juncture of ambient music, minimalism, rigorous experimentalism and improvisation, and machine music. Having carved distinct pathways across a diverse number of musical idioms for decades, Chris Abrahams, Oren Ambarchi, and Robbie Avenaim are each, respectively, among the most noteworthy and groundbreaking figures to have emerged from Australia's thriving experimental music scene. Ambarchi and Avenaim first encountered Abrahams when seeing the Necks - the project that has served as the primary vehicle for his singular approach to the piano since its founding in 1987 - together during the late 1980s, not long after having met in Sydney's underground music community. The pair's collaborations date back more than 35 years, criss-crossing Ambarchi's pioneering solo and ensemble work for guitar and Avenaim's visionary efforts for SARPS (Semi Automated Robotic Percussion System), robotic and kinetic extensions to his drum kit. In 2004, fate brought the three together in a trio performance at the What Is Music? Festival, the annual touring showcase of experimental music founded and run by Ambarchi and Avenaim between 1994-2012. For the nearly two decades since, Abrahams, Ambarchi, and Avenaim have intermittently reformed in exclusively live contexts, in Australia and abroad, cultivating and refining the fertile ground first tilled in that early meeting. Placelessness is the first album to present this remarkable trio's efforts in recorded form. Placelessness is the joining of three highly individualised streams, working in perfect harmony; the point at which friendship, mutual respect, and decades of creative exploration produce a singular spectrum of sound. Featuring Abrahams on piano, Ambarchi on guitar, and Avenaim on drums, the album's two sides draw on each artist's enduring dedication to long-form composition. Its two pieces, Placelessness I and Placelessness II, initially began as a single, 40 minute work, before being divided and reworked into distinct, complimentary gestures for the corresponding sides of the LP. Beginning with restrained clusters of reverberant piano tones, Placelessness I progresses at an almost glacial pace, with Abrahams' interventions increasing met by sparse responses, darting within vast ambiences, on guitar and percussion by Ambarchi and Avenaim. Remarkably conversational within its convergences of tonal, rhythmic, and textural abstraction, over the work's duration a progressive sense of tension unfurls and contracts, refusing release, as each of the ensemble's members contribute to an increasingly tangled sense of density at its resolve.While an entirely autonomous work, Placelessness II rapidly realises a distillation of the energy hinted at across the length of its predecessor. Following a luring passage of harmonious calm, Abrahams' launches into shimmering lines of repeating arpeggios, complimented at each escalation of tempo by Avenaim's machine gun fire percussion work and Ambarchi's masterful delivery of tonality and texture, as the trio collectively generate dense sheets of pointillistic ambience within which individual identity is almost lost, before slowly unspooling into unexpected abstractions and dissonances that deftly intervene with the work's inner logic and calm. What could easily be termed a maximalist take on Minimalism, Placelessness is a masterstroke of contemporary, real time composition, that blurs the boundaries between ambient music, experimentalism, free improvisation, and machine music. Drawing on Chris Abrahams, Oren Ambarchi, and Robbie Avenaim's decades of respective solo and collaborative practice, and the culmination of nearly twenty years of working together as a trio, it's two durational pieces - Placelessness I and Placelessness II - take form with a startling sense of effortlessness and grace, neither shying away from explicit beauty or rigorously tension within their forms

"Volcanic Tongue" war ein Plattenladen, der von 2005-2015 in Glasgow von David Keenan und Heather Leigh betrieben wurde und zeitgenössische DIY-Musik aus der ganzen Welt in kleinen selbstgemachten CD-R-Auflagen veröffentliche. Parallel versuchte man, vergessene Künstler aus der Vergangenheit ins Rampenlicht zu rücken, die ihre Musik oft als Privatpressung veröffentlicht hatten. Der Laden war für seine wöchentliche Mailingliste bekannt, in der Keenan enthusiastisch über Neuankömmlinge rappte, insbesondere über die Platte der Woche, die den Spitznamen "tip of the tongue" (Zungenspitze) erhielt. Dieser eklektische Sampler mit 20 "tips of the tongue" - von Outsider-Synth über Psych-Folk bis zu kaputtem Rock'n'Roll, aufgenommen zwischen 1968-2013 - ist eine Hommage an eine lebendige und vielseitige Underground-Avantgarde. Black Vinyl 2LP in PVC-Hülle, von Julian House designt, mit bedruckten Innentaschen samt Linernotes von David Keenan zu jedem Künstler.

PS: Gleichzeitig erscheint beim White Rabbit-Verlag eine Deluxe-Ausgabe des gleichnamigen Buches mit einer CD-Version des Samplers, limitiert auf 1.000 Exemplare, und signiert von Autor David Keenan und Designer Julian House.

Following nearly 20 years of working together as a trio, and numerous cross-collaborations in different configuration between them, Ideologic Organ presents Placelessness, the debut full-length by Chris Abrahams, Oren Ambarchi, and Robbie Avenaim, comprising two long-form works at juncture of ambient music, minimalism, rigorous experimentalism and improvisation, and machine music. Having carved distinct pathways across a diverse number of musical idioms for decades, Chris Abrahams, Oren Ambarchi, and Robbie Avenaim are each, respectively, among the most noteworthy and groundbreaking figures to have emerged from Australia's thriving experimental music scene. Ambarchi and Avenaim first encountered Abrahams when seeing the Necks - the project that has served as the primary vehicle for his singular approach to the piano since its founding in 1987 - together during the late 1980s, not long after having met in Sydney's underground music community. The pair's collaborations date back more than 35 years, criss-crossing Ambarchi's pioneering solo and ensemble work for guitar and Avenaim's visionary efforts for SARPS (Semi Automated Robotic Percussion System), robotic and kinetic extensions to his drum kit. In 2004, fate brought the three together in a trio performance at the What Is Music? Festival, the annual touring showcase of experimental music founded and run by Ambarchi and Avenaim between 1994-2012. For the nearly two decades since, Abrahams, Ambarchi, and Avenaim have intermittently reformed in exclusively live contexts, in Australia and abroad, cultivating and refining the fertile ground first tilled in that early meeting. Placelessness is the first album to present this remarkable trio's efforts in recorded form. Placelessness is the joining of three highly individualised streams, working in perfect harmony; the point at which friendship, mutual respect, and decades of creative exploration produce a singular spectrum of sound. Featuring Abrahams on piano, Ambarchi on guitar, and Avenaim on drums, the album's two sides draw on each artist's enduring dedication to long-form composition. Its two pieces, Placelessness I and Placelessness II, initially began as a single, 40 minute work, before being divided and reworked into distinct, complimentary gestures for the corresponding sides of the LP. Beginning with restrained clusters of reverberant piano tones, Placelessness I progresses at an almost glacial pace, with Abrahams' interventions increasing met by sparse responses, darting within vast ambiences, on guitar and percussion by Ambarchi and Avenaim. Remarkably conversational within its convergences of tonal, rhythmic, and textural abstraction, over the work's duration a progressive sense of tension unfurls and contracts, refusing release, as each of the ensemble's members contribute to an increasingly tangled sense of density at its resolve. While an entirely autonomous work, Placelessness II rapidly realises a distillation of the energy hinted at across the length of its predecessor. Following a luring passage of harmonious calm, Abrahams' launches into shimmering lines of repeating arpeggios, complimented at each escalation of tempo by Avenaim's machine gun fire percussion work and Ambarchi's masterful delivery of tonality and texture, as the trio collectively generate dense sheets of pointillistic ambience within which individual identity is almost lost, before slowly unspooling into unexpected abstractions and dissonances that deftly intervene with the work's inner logic and calm. What could easily be termed a maximalist take on Minimalism, Placelessness is a masterstroke of contemporary, real time composition, that blurs the boundaries between ambient music, experimentalism, free improvisation, and machine music. Drawing on Chris Abrahams, Oren Ambarchi, and Robbie Avenaim's decades of respective solo and collaborative practice, and the culmination of nearly twenty years of working together as a trio, it's two durational pieces - Placelessness I and Placelessness II - take form with a startling sense of effortlessness and grace, neither shying away from explicit beauty or rigorously tension within their forms.

Autokinetic’s techno roots reach back to 1993 when Mike McClure and John Golden formed Auto K in Minneapolis, forming the vibrant MPLS rave scene alongside Freddy Fresh, Woody McBride, and DVS1. Auto K then changed their name to Auto Kinetic, and now Mike McClure is ripping hypnotic modular techno in hyperspace solo as Autokinetic. These tracks have been secret weapons in DVS1 sets for the past couple years.

“great stuff as always” - Decoder
“Very cool” - Justin Cudmore
“It bangs!” - CMD
“Really good” - 2Lanes
“Great release!” - PlayPlay
“Sounds great!!” - Golden Medusa
“Big blend potential with these trax!” - Escaflowne


The A side consists of “Sidewinder” and the cheekily titled “Didgeradont”. Both of these are bonafide heady techno hits. I mean, the production on these…higher consciousness inducing dancefloor rolling mania. For the old ears and fresh feet alike.

The B side opens up with “File003”, which has a robotic restraint and up-beat bassline to keep you locked in for the never ending tunnel ride of a track. “Wakeword” ends the EP with a proper, slightly acidic challenger to meet all late night crowds with taste. But no chin scratching here. This is techno at its tastiest. Mike is a pro who knows how to kick and punch with full peak euphoric power. He’s been in the game for three decades at this point, and is still pushing his craft and himself to new heights.

300 copies pressed worldwide. Not to be missed out on.
Produced and performed by Mike McClure in MPLS, MN USA
Mastered by Dietrich Schoenemann.
Design by Nick Owen.
Distributed by One Eye Witness.

"The core of confusion and upheaval that drove some of the band's most fiery earlier work, however, is replaced by a more stabilized undercurrent, a mentality that's reflected in songs not afraid to try new things and honestly explore uncomfortable feelings. When combined with exciting production and songwriting choices, that mindset helps make Feels So Good // Feels So Bad one of the Shivas' best albums.” - AllMusic "Portland, Oregon-hailing psych-surf band The Shivas accomplish another time-traveling, reverb-ridden sound that refuses to get boring. Jared Molyneux’s guitar work knows when to be bright or bashful at the right times, breaking into guitar solos that possess a late-’60s groove… The Shivas seem to blissfully flourish” - Paste "a consistent treat for the ears” - The Vinyl District "Though the psych-tinged guitar riff that drives 'Feels So Bad' was written while The Shivas were still on the road, its lyrics didn’t fall into place until the band was well into lockdown, unsure of when they’d be able to return to their most imperative true love: Live shows... Accordingly, 'Feels So Bad' permeates with a sense of urgent desperation, building off a chugging prog-rock instrumental.” - Consequence (on “Feels So Bad”) "They hooked the audience with their throwback rock sounds. The guitar strums and rhythmic drum beats were layered atop smooth and hallucinogenic vocals. The eyes can tell the take at times and there was a sparkle there that said that the band members just love doing live performances." - California Rocker "This single layers on the fuzz but keeps it dreamy, with an especially sticky guitar riff sure to lodge itself in your brain with minimal effort." - Portland Monthly (on “If I Could Choose”) “'My Baby Don’t' translates the genuine vibrant joy


of the live experience into the studio, bringing the band’s ‘60s garage rock roots, sharp pop vocal harmonies, and fervent performances along for the ride." - Under The Radar "Perfectly straddling the line between a solid-head bopping track and an introspective deep cut, The Shivas’ 'Undone' is a rock & roll gem. The track sounds straight out of the late 60s and fits seamlessly in the Portland band’s electrifying catalog." - The Luna Collective "The first time I clicked play on this track, I knew it was a yes for me." - Ear To The Ground Music (on “If I Could Choose”) "The harmonies would make the “Happy Together” Turtles blush, but the unsettling guitar doesn’t shy away from the woollier implications of the ’60s." - Willamette Week (on “If I Could Choose”) "'Undone' is just the perfect song for the good days and the bad ones." - GlamGlare "another hit" - Austin Town Hall (on “Undone”) "one of the best forthcoming albums of the year" - Austin Town Hall RADIO: #3 Most Added @ NACC - 50 official adds BIO Every working musician has had their life turned upside down by Covid-19. For The Shivas, who had recently released a new LP and normally keep a rigorous touring schedule, it was a particularly screeching halt. “We were about to go to SXSW, the following weekend was Treefort in Boise, and then we were going to open for our friends’ band on tour in the US before going to Europe,” Jared Molyneux remembers. Then everything just stopped. They were faced with a dilemma. “It forced us to adapt or just quit,” Molyneux says. “The reality is that shows are our job.” In truth, live shows aren’t just The Shivas job: they are the band’s greatest love. Shivas shows are bombastic, explosive and thoroughly communal live rock and roll experiences where barriers between the performers and their audience seem to dissolve into the sweat and sound. The stage—or the basement, or the living room—that’s The Shivas’ true element. It’s their raison d’etre. It’s their religion. The band’s live urgency may have been born in 2006, when the band’s young members—who began booking West Coast tours while still in high school—waited without fanfare on sidewalks or in parking lots, before being rushed onstage for their sets at 21-and-up clubs. Maybe it developed a little later, as The Shivas blasted their way through Portland’s storied and unsanctioned mid-aughts house show scene. Whatever the origin of their famously kinetic live experience, it’s the show that keeps them coming back after over 1,000 performances spread over 25 countries in 15 years. In those 15 years, The Shivas have grown tight-knit as a group. Guitarist/singer Jared Molyneux, bassist Eric Shanafelt and drummer/singer Kristin Leonard have all been with the band since its earliest days; guitarist Jeff City, another high school friend, joined in 2017. Together they’ve learned to thread a seemingly impossible needle: They’ve honed and tightened their performances without sacrificing the element of surprise that makes each show special. And despite touring and recording for most of their lives, they speak about their project with humility, in the DIY vernacular of their Pacific Northwest upbringing. They talk up their own favorite bands, play all-ages shows as much as possible, and bring a sort of blue-collar humanism to the live performances they relish so much. “We just want to make people feel good,” Molyneux says. “We want them to forget they have to work tomorrow.” Kristin Leonard elaborates, “The live show is all about that feeling of catharsis—in ourselves and in everyone who comes out. We’re creating this safe space where we can all let go. Where we can exhale. And it feels really good when we are able to facilitate that.” So when Covid hit, the band knew it was time for transformation. After a settling realization that live music would be grounded for the foreseeable future, The Shivas booked significant studio time with Cameron Spies, who also produced the 2019 Dark Thoughts LP. They also transformed their lives: three of the band’s four members found work with a local nonprofit serving unhoused Portland residents. They became engaged in protests and fundraisers for social justice. They spent a whole summer actually living in Portland, settling into the city they had always called home, but that sometimes felt like a temporary stop between tours. “We got into a more community-minded headspace,” Leonard says. “And that did give us some purpose. It felt cool to see everybody come together to stick up for what they believe in. It feels like an incredibly formative last twelve months.” The album that emerged from this new moment finds The Shivas reborn as a band that seems seasoned and perfectly at home with itself. There is a calm, even a hopefulness, to Feels So Good // Feels So Bad that sounds new. The Shivas didn’t write or record the album with a particular theme in mind, but one seems to have emerged: where Dark Thoughts was about confronting your demons with fearless self-examination, much of Feels So Good // Feels So Bad is about what happens once you find that peace: how being honest with yourself changes your relationships and your priorities. “I do think it’s about acceptance,” Leonard says. “There’s a weird relaxation that comes with being at peace with things you can’t control or have regrets about.” Maybe that’s why the squealing, riff-laden break-up song opener, “Feels So Bad,” is such a shock to the system. But it’s more of an exorcism than a melodrama: more a song about not being able to do the thing you love (in


this case, playing live shows) than splitting with a partner. “It’s like part of you goes to sleep,” Leonard says. As bandmates who are also in a long-term relationship, Molyneux and Leonard know that their songs might be seen as glimpses into their personal lives, but their songwriting is rarely autobiography. Leonard compares their process to something more akin to screenwriting. “There’s bound to be some autobiographical material in there,” she says. “But the common denominator is the exploration of universal feelings: ones that everyone experiences or can relate to.” The goal is to use the music to drill down into something genuine and sincere, beyond genre or stylistic affectation. That’s where The Shivas have arrived. Whatever growth led the band to Feels So Good // Feels So Bad, plenty of their fascinations remain. They’re still turning love songs into psychedelic, transcendent epics. “Tell Me That You Love Me” subverts doo-wop extravagance and dabbles in Flamenco rhythms. “Rock Me Baby” is a bubblegum anthem soaked in so much reverb that we might just be hearing it from the stadium nosebleeds. “Sometimes” is almost impossibly huge, like a witchy outtake from the Brill Building era. Those songs feel like logical expansions from a band that has always excelled at a timeless sort of rock and roll that tinkers with and explodes elements from every era. But on the towering and mournful “You Wanna Be My Man,” a slow-burning six-minute shoegaze prayer for a higher sort of love, there is a level of emotional nuance that feels like something altogether revolutionary. It’s there again in the stripped-down vulnerability of the album-closing elegy “Please Don’t Go.” Yes, Feels So Good // Feels So Bad is an album about acceptance. Sometimes that acceptance feels enlightened and sometimes it feels like the end result of a lot of kicking and screaming. The Shivas have adapted in both of those ways. With new tours scheduled and a new album on the way, they’re still hoping--like all of us--for a new era of vibrant, cathartic live music. The lessons they learned from having their normal upended, though, have only helped them grow

Spirits Having Fun records are ones made from and for shows and spaces—arrangements rooted in a deeply collaborative process, that come to life through intuitive and locked-in live improvisation. Following their 2019 debut Auto-Portrait, Two finds the New York and Chicago based four-piece continuing to challenge ideas of what a rock band can be, pulling apart their musical experiences and reimagining them as kinetic compositions, equally studied but palpably organic.

Two is constructed around gut feelings and strong grooves, elastic rhythms and playful pacing. Its twelve songs expand, contract, and make sharp turns between melodies under singer-guitarist Katie McShane’s meditative lyrics. “Broken Cloud,” which was also released last year on a compilation in support of Chicago Community Jail Support, offers a glimpse into her reflections on the natural world: "A city grew out of the ground / to a mountain it's only a blur."

True to its name, the internal logic of the band is also just a lot of fun, built on trust and deep-rooted musical relationships. Before there was Spirits Having Fun, McShane, bassist Jesse Heasly, guitarist-vocalist Andrew Clinkman, and drummer Phil Sudderberg had performed together in various arrangements over the years. McShane, Heasly and Clinkman met in a specific corner of the Boston underground in 2013, a time when a scene had coalesced around students from local music conservatories frequently collaborating with punk bands and noise artists, exchanging ideas and warping musical worldviews. Heasly and Clinkman played together in Cowboy Band, making mutant, free jazz-inspired takes on old country tunes. When Clinkman moved to Chicago, Heasly and McShane played in experimental groups like EKP and Listening Woman; in Chicago, Clinkman met Sudderberg playing in projects like jazz scene fixture Ken Vandermark’s high-powered band Marker.

Spirits first came together as an attempt at a long-distance collaboration among friends in 2016, driven by the simple feeling of missing each other; they’d meet up for marathon weekends here and there to practice, playing small loops through dive bars and art spaces around the Midwest—just enough for McShane and Heasly to afford plane tickets back home. Being split between Chicago and New York forced the project into a deliberate pace. “We tried to take it slow and let it be what it was,” said McShane. That sense of patience unexpectedly prepared them for March of 2020, when their planned tours and the release of Two were indefinitely delayed.

Two was mostly recorded in the summer of 2019 with the help of omnipresent Chicago engineer Dave Vettraino and DPCD’s Alec Watson, whose contributions on organ, synths, and piano are laced throughout the record. The album reflects a synthesis of solitary and communal songwriting processes—each song drawing on fragments written by individuals, which McShane threaded together and shaped through her distinct compositional lens, making the songs whole before returning to them to the band to mature collectively. When composing, McShane writes first on the keyboard before adapting parts for guitars played by herself and Clinkman. Their dueling approaches to guitar are complementary: McShane, being a newer guitarist, brings a freshness to the project (“I'm just discovering the whole time,” she says) while Clinkman has been playing since childhood.

“There's a lot more collaboration on this record,” says Clinkman, “in terms of all of us letting stuff bloom a little bit more.” The record’s first single, “Hold The Phone” is a good example of this process—it started with a playful intro riff from Clinkman, a melody and bridge added by McShane, a wobbly outro groove added by Heasly, which Sudderberg brought to life. Another single, the dynamic “See a Sky,” written primarily by Heasly, underscores the rhythm section chemistry at play across the record, the song ebbing and flowing around Heasly and Sudderberg’s eclectic percussive palettes.

“Entropy Transfer Partners” is the only song on the record with lyrics by Clinkman, and the album’s most politically direct—a call for solidarity in the face of systemic failures, an acknowledgment of the shared material devastation caused by our country’s ongoing healthcare and housing crises: “These are not things we're experiencing individually. We struggle through them collectively. And we could actually declare, all of us, that it doesn't have to be this way, and fight and organize to ameliorate some of those conditions.” (“We won't work to create the shit you monetize, to run our lives,” they sing.)

From front to back, Two is an absorbing listen simply for its impressive range. But as the members explain themselves, the complexity of the record is about more than its intricate riffs, or how often they count out an odd time signature, but how they reject the notion of boxing the songs in, letting the melodies take on lives of their own. “Making music that feels alive is important to us,” says Clinkman. “Music feels most powerful to me when it deepens our sensation of feeling alive and connected to other humans. It’s so easy to feel worn down and isolated; that your life’s value is fixed to your productivity at your job, or the things that you have or don’t have. Making music that feels joyful and fun seems like one effective antidote to that feeling.”

Bounding on from the Door to the Cosmos, the label'sexpansive triple vinyl compilation, OnTheCorner has paired up new artists in this series of cosmically twinned EPs. Twinning EPs on a single piece of wax reduces the impact on the environment and wallet friendly. Each brace of cosmically twinned OnTheCorner artists interstellar balearic for the deepspace bound. Each 12" will be split taking over a whole side of black wax. Party wax loaded with Stardust. Get your fix of tomorrow's sound, tonight! Side A is UFFE's 'Not All the Stars EP' - an underground emissary channeling dark bass weight through a prism of jazz-house - dub-tech hitters. A singular talent leading the charge into new frontiers with OnTheCorner. Not All The Stars EP is aprelude to his first LP on the label and follows on from City's Dead and that featured on Door to the Cosmos in 2020. Petwo Evans' 'Bootstrap EP' on the flip side is made of soundsystem-primed, innovative club tracks. Welsh Futurism, celestial electrics and objects of space-junk percussion. CERN loops, cyber kinetic grooves, machine pulses and chugging house kicks converse in the orbit of 'Gyroscope'. Petwo Evansfeeds the tracks compulsion with heady layers awash with dreamy vocal stabs, synths and hazy harmonics.