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A collection of structured piano improvisations and their surrounding sonic environments, an album in four parts: Songs From a Distant Summer | From November For Snow | Together Recorded between 2011-2013, the album was never intended to be a direct response to the seasons. The coincidence of the recordings having been made at points within the seasons was only pointed out at a later date by a friend. Alongside wishing to avoid any parallels or associations being drawn with Vivaldi’s masterpiece, the title - “The Seasons Are Not Four” - a line from a poem by Syrian poet Adonis , appeared to fit perfectly - recognising our relationship to time but also alluding to the impossibility of truly categorising it. Due to label arrangements and complications the majority of these recordings have remained unreleased for a decade. One notable exception being the piece “I Promise”, that went on to amass in excess of 24 million streams - an unfathomable prospect for a piano-less pianist recording a reunion between himself and a piano at a point of not having played one for several months. The Seasons Are Not Four serves as a sonic record of real-time responses to the character of a piano, to transient states of being and to disparate, fleeting moments in time - some will hear Summer in Winter, others- Autumn in Spring; distant conversation beyond the sounds of a hesitant human shuffling fingers against wooden keys, the ticking of a grandfather clock or the song of birds outside masking passing traffic. - ‘The Seasons Are Not Four, a week is not seven days, a year is more than it is, and less’ Adonis

LP SHIPPING ONLY / CD DELAYED “This is definitely the most honest and mature record Deathchant has ever made.” That’s Deathchant vocalist and guitarist T.J. Lemieux talking about the band’s third and latest album, Thrones. Think of it as not just the follow-up to 2021’s Waste, but the other side of the coin. “While Waste and our self-titled album touched on similar themes, they were sort of from a problem standpoint,” he explains. “Thrones is full of reflection, self-realization, and solutions for moving forward and conquering those problems.” Which isn’t to say that Deathchant have gone soft. Far from it, dude. In fact, Thrones just might be their heaviest record thus far. The band’s seamless swirl of classic rock guitar harmonies, syrupy sludge, blues boogie and psych bombast has reached a thrilling new apex as Lemieux spins high-powered tales of reckoning from beyond the wall of sanity. Thematically, Lemieux and his bandmates—bassist George Camacho, guitarist Doug Stuckey and drummer Joe Herzog—peel back the veneer of self-delusion to expose the fork in the road. “Thrones is meant to represent things that rule you, things you worship, things you rely on or think you need,” Lemieux says. “Sometimes those things make you feel in control, safe, on top of the world like you're in power—which over time often proves untrue.” Witness lead single “Mirror”: Kicking off with gleaming Lizzy-isms, the song rumbles into a thick groove overlaid with lysergic fireworks that conjure the shaggy European movers of decades past. “‘Mirror’ is the key to the whole Thrones theme,” Lemieux explains. “It’s about looking inward to realize what's ruling you, what's consuming you, and how delusional you've been about those things. Your sense of self is so damn important, and fully facing your truths is not an easy thing to do. It’s admitting that you’ve intentionally dulled and quieted your mind to distract, avoid and run from yourself, from memory, from loss and truth. At some point, you have to face that shit.” The languid and dreamy “Mother Mary” is also crucial to Thrones’ trajectory. “If the album was a book, ‘Mirror’ would be the first chapter and ‘Mother Mary’ would be the last chapter, though they’re not the first and last track for sonic reasons,” Lemieux explains. “‘Mirror’ is saying, ‘I’m looking inward because some things need to change,’ while ‘Mother Mary’ is saying, ‘Okay, things are fucked and have gone way too far but now we have this understanding—and acknowledging things is key to overcoming.’” Thrones was recorded live in a cabin in the remote mountain community of Frazier Park, CA, with trusty engineer Steve Schroeder (a.k.a. Schroeds). “We moved in for a week, rehearsed a bit and went for it,” Lemieux says. “Each tune got three or so takes, but we nailed ‘Mother Mary’ and ‘Canyon’ right away.” Overdubs were done at the cabin, Schroeder’s Studio 3, and Lemieux’s place. The album was produced by Lemieux and Schroeder. “Overall, it’s a pretty dark record,” Lemieux says. “It's serious and leans into heavy themes, sometimes using metaphor and imagery to soften those blows, but sometimes it hits direct. It’s positive, though—and cathartic. Forever riding on the line of total insanity and flirting with mental degradation. It’s our most realized and ambitious record to date.”

Die Drum ’n‘ Bass Pioniere Chase & Status melden sich am 27.Oktober 2023 mit einem neuen Album zurück! Auf „2 RUFF, Vol.1“ veröffentlicht das Duo zehn neue Tracks, darunter Kollaborationen mit einigen der angesagtesten britischen Newcomer*innen (u. a. Arrdee, Flowdan und Takura). Chase & Status bleiben ihrem unverwechselbaren Drum ‘n‘ Bass Sound treu und erschaffen eine energiegeladene Klangwelt, die stark aus der britischen Clubkultur beeinflusst wird. Trotz oder genau wegen dieser Underground Attitüde
kann das Duo große Erfolge vorweisen, ihr Album „No More Idols“ (2011) wurde in Großbritannien mit Doppelplatin ausgezeichnet.

Auf dem Mixtape ist auch die vorab veröffentliche Single „Baddadan“ enthalten, die sich über den Sommer 2023 zum Drum ’n‘ Bass Festivalhit des Jahres entwickelte. Hier treffen über 15Jahre an ausverkauften Headline Shows auf die Underground-Energie britischer Raves.

Straight Outta Caledonia is the first commercially available “Greatest Hits” of the outsider songwriter Jackie Leven, an artist
who has largely remained in obscurity in his native Scotland despite being one of the greatest wordsmiths – and singers – it ever
produced. A well-travelled musician who began making psychedelic, progressive music in the late 60s before emerging as an
epic storyteller full of pathos, humour and humanity in the 90s, Leven lived and wrote like many of the fragile, gregarious
characters of his songs; large, full of life and empathy. Leven passed away in 2011 after recording 30+ albums under different
guises or with his briefly successful New Wave band Doll by Doll. Straight Outta Caledonia is a compilation collated by Night
School Records on its Archival label School Daze that seeks to introduce Leven’s music to new generations.
In an age of isolation, alienation and loss of visceral experience, Jackie Leven’s music can be massive and welcoming. It feels
connected to some universal humanity and vibrates with vitality. His songs are often full of tragedy and comedy simultaneously,
cutting straight to the heart, often plugging directly into the nervous system of the listener. His lyrics are rich, dense with imagery
that can veer from apocalyptic to the comically banal in a sentence, with a songwriting panache that can be heavy handed to
almost bursting point before skewering the song with a clownish, warm punchline. His productions ranged from Bob Dylan’s
Rolling Thunder Revue style rock band orchestrations with strings and organ as on the epic Ancient Misty Morning or they could
be pared down to the purest form of folk song as on Poortoun: Leven on stage alone with an acoustic guitar, albeit played with a
mastery of the instrument that he often only hinted at. Musically his sound can bend traditional structures or stay completely
confined within them yet still forever push towards an ecstatic release, as on the cinematic Snow In Central Park.
The most exciting, jaw-droppingly effective tool at Leven’s disposal was his voice. A multi-octave instrument that, though
damaged during a savage assault in Fife, he used with flair; he had both a brazen disregard for the rules and a deep humility, all
of which is evidenced with every phrasing. A baritone that could flit up through the register – always touched by his gentle
Kirkcaldy accent – it’s the prime delivery method for his songs. Leven’s voice enabled him to inhabit the characters in his songs to
an uncanny degree, a skill that in turn enables the listener to empathise with them and, subsequently, the singer. It’s most evident
in stand out song The Sexual Loneliness Of Jesus Christ, a breathtaking re-telling of the life of its protagonist, not as a pure,
sinless messiah but as a sexually frustrated, solitary man condemned to an existential loneliness no one else will ever feel. In
many ways the track is the archetypal Jackie Leven song. Produced by Pere Ubu’s David Thomas, what strikes the ear first –
after the samples of unemployed workers in Glasgow following the closing of the Clyde shipyards – is the audacious, rhythmic
tremolo effect Leven employs through the verses before the production opens up to allow Leven’s vocal to lift into a soar, a
freeing glide powered both by the force of the singer’s chutzpah and the inherent, doomed destiny of the protagonist. With any
other singer such subject matter could come across as gauche or worse, pretentiously sonorous, but Jackie Leven’s genius was
such that he could be this cinematic and brazen while touching something elemental and true in the beholder. It’s a skill evident in
every song on Straight Outta Caledonia, the trademark of a songwriter who revelled and excelled in intensity with a lightness of
touch.
In his lifetime, Jackie Leven toured, wrote and recorded at a ferocious rate. He recorded under aliases to avoid record contract
restrictions, played house shows in Europe after or instead of official concerts, events which were often spoken word story telling
masterclasses as well as performances of his often bewilderingly dense songbook. His music has traditionally been catalogued
as “folk” music and has been largely banished to a small, dedicated group of international fans and apostles both private and well
known, like author Ian Rankin or Glenn Matlock. Since his passing in 2011 however, there has been a growing recognition
amongst a newer generation, with artists like James Yorkston or Molly Nilsson publicly stating the influence of the unsung
troubadour on their own craft. Jackie Leven’s fairytales for hard men are often forensic deconstructions of masculinity, sad and
ecstatic, light and shadow, always endlessly rich, a resource as bountiful as Leven himself’s human spirit undoubtedly was.

The vinyl edition comes with 6 high-quality lithograph art prints (by UK illustrator Hannah Alice) representing each of the birds on the album, held in a heavy board die-cut gatefold sleeve. This unique packaging is fully interactive - the cover image is interchangeable with any of the prints. Remastered by Brian Pyle from original tapes. Bert Jansch was often quoted as saying "I'm not playing for anyone, just myself" and this feels no more apparent than on 1979's 'Avocet', his beautifully meditative paean to British birds. For fans of Jansch this is often the album that is singled out as his best work. The freedoms of a post-Pentangle career are much in evidence; folk rock and even trad folk give way to an album that is not only without lyrical accompaniment but really quite orchestral, classical even, in its composition. There are surprises in particular in 'Lapwing' (a dirge-like waltz that wouldn't be out of place on a Nils Frahm album) and 'Bittern' (which speaks of Arthur Russell's more experimental pieces). Featuring ex-bandmate Danny Thompson, alongside Martin Jenkins (Dando Shaft, amongst others) with sleeve notes by Jansch aficionado Colin Harper (author of 'Dazzling Stranger: Bert Jansch and the British Folk and Blues revival'). Ltd ART PRINT EDITION, Classic Black vinyl, plus DLC w/ bonus live tracks.

Cold War Kids have announced their 10th studio album, Cold War Kids, that will arrive on November 3 via AWAL. The band’s singer and songwriter Nathan Willett describes: " This is our self titled record . Everybody gets one . This felt like the right time because the sound of this record is the sound that makes Cold War kids unlike any other . I’m so proud of these songs. They took a long time to come together . The longing and struggle and joy I wanted to express are personal to me and i am so excited to share it with our fans who have come with us on the journey.”
The epic tale of Cold War Kids has long been informed by deeply personal songcraft, enthusiastic experimentation, and an avowed commitment towards forward motion. The band continues their ascent, becoming one of the biggest rock bands of their generation amassing more than half a billion streams, consistently churning out alternative radio hits, selling out tours and headlining festivals worldwide.
Over the course of nine studio albums and numerous EPs, Cold War Kids have become a major part of the modern musical landscape, with “First,” their Platinum-scanned 2015 single, named as the Most Played track at Alternative radio outlets nationwide over the last decade. As well as 600+ million career streams, 2.2 million singles sold, and over 600,000 albums sold. The band’s current lineup – Nathan Willett (vocals, piano, guitar), Matt Maust (bass guitar), David Quon (guitar, backing vocals), Matthew Schwartz (keyboards, backing vocals, guitar, percussion), and Joe Plummer (drums, percussion) – coalesced in 2016 and have since maintained a dynamic presence in both the studio and on stages around the world.

TAFKAMP returns with the third and final full-length cassette tape album in the INDRUKKEN trilogy - taking you on a journey through some of the more melancholic work of the versatile producer.

Limited edition tape run!

Run-D.M.C.'s Raising Hell remains the turning point at which hip-hop crashed through mainstream barriers and never left. Anchored by the crossover smash "Walk This Way," the 1986 blockbuster still sounds like a revolution unfolding in real time. It has everything – hard-rock riffs, turntable scratching, itchy rhythms, hit singles – not the least of which are the trio's invigorating raps and inseparable chemistry. And now it's the first rap record afforded audiophile treatment, courtesy of Mobile Fidelity.

Sourced from the original master tapes and pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl, the reissue label's numbered-edition 180g 33RPM SuperVinyl LP elevates Raising Hell to sonic heights on par with its musical and cultural significance. Ranked the 123rd Greatest Album of All Time by Rolling Stone, 43rd on Pitchfork's Greatest Albums of the 1980s, one of the Top 100 Albums of All Time by TIME – and included on "Best of" lists by Spin, Paste, XXL, Entertainment Weekly, and basically every other significant media outlet – the triple-platinum effort rocks the house.

Benefitting from the ultra-low noise floor and groove definition of SuperVinyl, Raising Hell unleashes a torrent of massive dynamics and tsunami of frequency-plumbing details underlined by Rick Rubin's taut, crisp, albeit raw and streetwise production. Just as the Queens-based group both defined what hip-hop could represent – and displayed just how big it could get – Rubin's work melded ear-worm hooks, savvy drum loops, metal-leaning guitars, and, of course, Run and D.M.C.'s cross-fire lyrical interplay into watertight frameworks bursting with ideas, tones, samples, and beats. Heard anew on Mobile Fidelity vinyl, Raising Hell is in every regard the aural equivalent of a direct-to-console 1970s classic. And it sounds as fresh as hell.

As for the music, it ranks among the most influential, inventive, and invigorating ever released – rap or otherwise. Vanguard artists such as Ice-T, Eminem, Jay-Z, and Public Enemy's Chuck D – who declared it his all-time favorite and "the first record that made me realize this was an album-oriented genre" – have testified on behalf of its brilliance. And never mind the presence of the Top 5 single "Walk This Way," whose power helped make Aerosmith's Steven Tyler and Joe Perry relevant for the first time in nearly a decade – and literally put Run-D.M.C. in bedrooms ranging from the Bronx to Bartlett to Bad Axe.

Look instead to the rest of the entirely filler-free set, be it the corkscrew turns, slippery wordplay, and "My Sharona"-meets-"Mickey" mixology of the boisterous "It's Tricky," the fat-but-minimized bass grooves and warped turntable wobble of the hysterical "You Be Illin'," chimes-accented inertia and boombox-on- shoulder thunder of the now-iconic "Peter Piper," or voice-as-percussion attack of the funky "Is It Live." With Raising Hell, the answer to the question is always affirmative – a sensation bolstered by the fact the group always had something to say.

The definition of Golden Age Hip-Hop in every way, Run-D.M.C. avoids the negativity and misogyny that later plagued the style, spinning assertive tales about identity (the biographical and culture-changing "My Adidas"), work ethics ("Perfection"), and, most notably, pride (the Harriet Tubman- and Malcom X.-referencing "Proud to Be Black"). Pavement-packed inner cities, tree-lined suburbs, and cornfield-rimmed rural areas would never again be the same. And rocking a rhyme that's right on time would become trickier than ever.

Orange vinyl, 100 only

Cardiff-based, DIY-folk-pop collective, Quiet Marauder, are set to release their 5th album at the end of October 2023. This follows on from their madcap 111-song debut album, MEN (2013), as well as the more recent Tiny Men Parts (2020) and The Gift (2021), and continues their long-established relationship both with their label, Bubblewrap Collective, and Canadian collaborators, The Burning Hell.
Recorded in a Snowbird Studios pop-up in Lourinha, Portugal, Introducing Malcolm Del Monte continues the band’s fascination with high concepts and musical, album-length storytelling. At its core, it is an album about self-identity, isolation, and our innate fluctuations as human beings. Set during the pandemic, the album's a very loosely autobiographical (read: almost entirely false) account of band leader Simon M. Read's day-to-day life during Covid lockdowns with partner, Kadesha Drija, and imaginary friend, Malcolm Del Monte.
Choosing to largely avoid the topic of the pandemic altogether, Introducing Malcolm Del Monte instead charts the highs and lows of these living arrangements. These range from outrageous daytime drinking (high) to disagreements on the nature of perversion (low), with the first half of the album covering Malcolm’s emergence and ultimate expulsion from the house. With his absence being sorely felt, the second half sheds light on the alternative voices looking to fill that Malcolm-shaped space: a murderous green giant; a despondent Milk Tray Man; and a broken-necked, hypersexual Jet from Gladiators.
As with their previous story-based albums, the foreground narratives act to enable background allusions to other core concerns: the power of nostalgia; advertising and cultural consumption; well-being and isolation; balancing acts of the self. Ultimately, the album’s message is of striking a balance between self-questioning and improvement, and most of all, not being too hard on yourself when things don’t feel quite right.
Sonically and seamlessly ranging from alt-folk to industrial synth to melodic indie-pop, Introducing Malcolm Del Monte covers a lot of ground. Injected with the musicality of Quiet Marauder themselves, as well as Canadian kindred spirits, The Burning Hell, instrumentation includes flute, piano, chunky bass, acoustic and electric guitar, programmed beats, synthscapes, bamboo clarinet, bongos, and a heap load of vocals. Indeed, alongside the main lead voices of Simon M. Read, Kadesha Drija and Malcolm Del Monte (Rowan Liggett) there are guest performances from My Name Is Ian and The Burning Hell’s Mathias Kom.
The album will be preceded by lead single and video Momma Mia! I Made You Some Sangria! on 22nd September,

UK dance music antagonist Works Of Intent redefines big room techno on ‘Richer Sound’, an album sampler with four new tracks to accompany the digital release of his album of the same title which features with six

all-new tracks alongside six cuts previously released on Laurent Garnier and Scan X's COD3 QR label.



Works Of Intent is a vital voice in the underground who champions the sounds and stories of South Asian creatives in his role as Project Manager and Visual Designer for DAYTIMERS. He has also written multiple essays on race, class and privilege in the industry while laying down expressive sets across four decks at key clubs like fabric, Panoramabar and Rex. His emotive, storytelling sounds have come on labels like Turbo, Rekids and Monkeytown, and outside that, he's a go-to mix engineer for some of the UK's most exciting prospects.



‘Richer Sound’ features six tracks previously released on the label’s Various Artist EPs and six brand new offerings that avoid tired big room tropes. Gone are the snare rolls, white noise risers and kick drops, instead Work's operates under the mantra of "big tunes for big hearts" where musicality makes the motive. The artist himself has taken care of the artwork, mixing and mastering and says of the album, “It’s melancholia turned up so loud you can’t ignore it. It’s a deafening barrage of emotions designed for super clubs. It’s unsubtle, it’s unabashed, it’s unrelenting, and it wears its heart on its sleeve. It’s unmistakably a work of intent.”



Cars and motorsport have been a recurring theme in previous Works Of Intent releases and appear again here in 'Left Unseen', which has the high octane, death-defying adrenaline of rally driving perfectly transposed into a big room techno experience. ''Old Ways, New Mistakes' bounces boisterously with stadium-sized kick drums and synthetic mourning that will break hearts across arenas. 'Dreamt I Saw You' takes fawning imaginations to lucid heights with a synthand cymbal pairing designed to get you stargazing in the club.



‘Richer Sound’ is just the sort of expertly-crafted, genre-busting work of emotional and physical potency you would expect from such a restless nonconformist as Works Of Intent.

Kalipo prepares to launch his new album Happy Little Accidents, which counts with twelve electro-focused tracks as well as the participation of feature artists Rampue, Ira Atari, Oberst & Buchner and subkutan. Iconic 80s painter and TV host, Bob Ross is celebrated for his thirty-minute landscapes, recognizably soothing voice as well as the 'happy little quotes' he imprinted on pop culture. One of Ross' most memorable turns of phrase, "We don't make mistakes; we just have happy accidents," went on to encourage thousands worldwide. And not just painters. "For me, this album was about letting the songs develop very quickly and not evaluating them too much, or trying to avoid mistakes," says German electronic music producer, Kalipo (Jakob Häglsperger) who named his latest release Happy Little Accidents after Ross' signature phrase. "Bob Ross really impressed me as a child, he was always so accessible to everyone and demonstrated how easy it was for anyone to work creatively," says Kalipo, who translated Ross' fast and instinctive wet-on-wet painting technique to music-making on Happy Little Accidents. The 12 tracks that make up PART I and PART II of the album are a celebration of the method - sometimes it's a floaty journey with tinkering sounds, at other times dark fast beats create the core of the music, but there's always a sense of intuition and heart driving Kalipo's productions.

In 2019 BC (Before Covid) Discharge frontman Jeff Janiak reached out to longtime friend and musician JP Parsons to assist on a new project. The pair wrote and recorded various ideas before reaching out to Amebix guitarist Stig.C.Miller who joined them in the midst of the global pandemic. The trio utilized this new creative climate of physical restriction and went on to set the foundations for their first album, via file sharing home recordings, which would be arranged and produced by Stig. It was several months later when he would call upon Nausea, Ministry and former Amebix drummer Roy Mayorga to complete the line up. Roy went onto record drums, mix and produce the band's debut album 'LET THEM EAT FAKE'.

In these unprecedented times of global restriction, fear and the everlasting lack of faith in the hierarchy 'False Fed' has cultivated a heavy sound that is drenched in melody, aggression and shrouded in darkness. It is not bound by genre, yet still offers subtle hints to the creators lineage. 

False Fed are:
Jeff (JJ) Janiak - Vocals 
Stig.C.Miller - Guitar 
JP Parsons - Bass Guitar 
Roy Mayorga - Drums 

Recorded in 1995 and 1996, mostly in John Fahey"s room at a Salem, Oregon boardinghouse, the performances on Proofs and Refutations prefigure the ornery turn of the page that marked Fahey"s final years, drawing another enigmatic rabbit from his seemingly bottomless musical hat. Cloaked in the language of dogma - what is he proving? refuting? - this is Fahey dancing a jig in the Duchampian gap, jester cap bells a-jingling. True believers? He"s got something for you: an uncompromising vision that you can sneer at ("guy can"t play anymore and refuses to concede!") or embrace as evidence of his genius ("the reinventor does it again!"). Skeptics? He"s there with you, too: sending up the fallacy of certitudes altogether. Institutions, systems, accepted wisdoms. Heroes. Alternative facts, indeed. Right out of the gate, Fahey re-materializes before us, somewhere between Oracle of Delphi and Clown Prince at Olympus. Mounting a thundering dialectic from on high, "All the Rains" resembles nothing else in his extensive discography - betraying roots in everything from Dada to Episcopal liturgical chant - and contains nary a plucked guitar note. You can"t fool him! When the lap steel of yore appears on "F for Fake," it serves more as soundbed for an extended sequence of vocal improvisations, running the gamut from wordless Bashoian caterwauling to free-form (but decidedly fake) Tuvan, even revealing a burnished falsetto in the process. Fahey takes on a different kind of provocation in the two acoustic guitar-based tracks closing Side 1 - "Morning" parts 1 and 2 - the first of 4 recordings in this session that have him wrestling with the ghost of Skip James, perhaps Fahey"s effort to wrench the "bitter, hateful old creep" (his words) back into the grave. Anchoring Side 2 is the two-part "Evening, Not Night," the second half of his extended cathexis on James (and the latter"s avowed castration complex - another story for another day, perhaps). Bit of a chill in the air - where"s the impish Fahey from earlier? Unmistakably working through some psychic wounds here, we might think: the unheimlich rendered in glistening viscera. Or is he playing with our notions of authenticity, of his reputation as troubadour of raw emotional states, a pilgrim of the ominous, the simmering unconscious? These cards are kept decidedly close to the vest. The opening and closing pieces again feature Fahey"s guitar as drone soundbed - employing distortion, oscillation, and an altogether absurd quotient of reverb to create texture and harmonics that are - if we wanna go there - not dissimilar to the sustained tonic clusters of Tibetan singing bowls, the hurdy gurdy, Hindustani classical music, or La Monte freaking Young. Portions of this material appeared on obscure late "90s vinyl in the 7" or double-78 rpm format, but as a "session" it has lain dormant more than a quarter century now. Taken together, we can now see these tracks as secret blueprints to latter-day Fahey provocations, several years prior to records like 1997"s City of Refuge and Womblife.

'Farewell to Faraway Friends' finds Lauvdal at her Wurlitzer, captured by two mics in the room, with no additional overdubs or edits. Her set of hushed, jazzy flourishes and pregnant pauses is so well realised that it’s hard to believe they were improvised, while the “kitchen feel” of the room recording (as Marhaug describes it) enhances a sense of brittle intimacy. Much in the same way that Dominique Lawalrée imbued his ostensibly naive music with glimpses into a multifaceted inner life, Lauvdal explores an ocean of feeling through the most humble components, transporting us through some alchemical act of emotional teleportation.

Lauvdal avoids meandering flights of fancy, instead exposing a filigree level of detail and beauty through the cracks of her spartan recordings. There are no arbitrary found sounds, no sound design or overdubs, just Lauvdal and her Wurlitzer, occasionally singing at a barely perceptible volume in the background. If there's melancholy, it's not self absorbed or effacing, but trapped behind sunny rays and poetic, romantic phrases.

One of those effortlessly impactful records we’ve not been able to stop listening to for a while now, ‘Farewell to Faraway Friends’ is apparently the first in an ongoing series. Here’s hoping.

Katie Munshaw really needed to finish the fucking quilt, and find a way to
sew herself into it
The lead singer of Ontario four-piece Dizzy has been thinking a lot about the way
things look and the way you can find comfort in disappearing into it all. She
describes the album, a bright indie-pop beast continuing the legacy built from two
previous shimmering records, as a "patchwork quilt" with each song a square, or a
sliver, of her life. "None of them have all that much to do with each other and yet
they wouldn't exist without one another," she says.
It makes for a colourful record that's intrinsically Dizzy - one that swerves
comparison, instead reflecting the shapeshifting and imperfect nature of its
musicians. Avoiding the spotlight yet more confidently themselves than ever.
Munshaw is satisfied with where this record finds Dizzy. The band's first record,
she says, was "formative" to what kind of musician she became, even though "I
was young and had no business making a record. The Sun and Her Scorch was
our rebellious teenage phase where we thought we could do it all ourselves, this
new chapter is about throwing our hands up saying 'we don't have all the
answers. I'm open to having somebody help me. Help us.'"
Listeners will find that Dizzy have made what sounds like their most confident
work to date; embracing the best parts of what has made fans fall in love with
them in the past while confidently stepping into the future and trying new things;
ready to show the world exactly who they are as artists - mask or no mask.
Heavily supported across DSPs, with prime playlist placements across Spotify,
Apple Music, Amazon, YouTube, Deezer and Tidal.
Plays on BBC Radio 1, Radio 2, Radio X.
Coverage on The Independent, Clash, Line of Best Fit, DIY, Dork, Brooklyn Vegan,
Gigwise, She Makes Music, Scientists of Sound, Cool Music & Things, Mystic
Sons and many more.

'Festering Grotesqueries' is a musical statement crafted and executed by
four individuals who are completely sold out to heavy fucking metal -
Firmly rooted in the sounds of classic Death Metal and Grindcore,
'Festering Grotesqueries' is all at once cacophonous and catchy,
merciless and memorable, an album that is as brutal as it is fun
Avoiding genre stereotypes that would relegate them to the dustbins occupied by
countless imitators of the oldschool, Dripping Decay have combined speed and
technique with groove and swagger to create a dynamic exhibition of crushing
and unforgettable tracks: 14 'Festering Grotesqueries' in all

'Festering Grotesqueries' is a musical statement crafted and executed by
four individuals who are completely sold out to heavy fucking metal -
Firmly rooted in the sounds of classic Death Metal and Grindcore,
'Festering Grotesqueries' is all at once cacophonous and catchy,
merciless and memorable, an album that is as brutal as it is fun
Avoiding genre stereotypes that would relegate them to the dustbins occupied by
countless imitators of the oldschool, Dripping Decay have combined speed and
technique with groove and swagger to create a dynamic exhibition of crushing
and unforgettable tracks: 14 'Festering Grotesqueries' in all

Deena Abdelwahed's first album is shifting the epicenter of contemporary electronic music south: 'Khonnar' will be released on November 16, 2018 by InFiné. Pronounced 'Ronnar' (an essential detail so as to avoid facile misinterpretation by French-speakers) it is a term that makes the most of Tunisia's cultural and linguistic spectrum. It evokes the dark, shameful and disturbing side of things, the one we usually seek to hide, but which Deena instead sticks our noses in with her debut. It is a testament to Deena's coming into her own as a world citizen, and as an artist. A self-construction made of frustrations and constraints, borne of retrograde mindsets, which are not the prerogative of either the East or the West, and which she tirelessly strives to expose and break. Throughout the 45 minutes of 'Khonnar", Deena breaks down the codes of bass, techno and experimental music, and writes the manifesto for a generation that does not seek to please or to conform, taking back control of its identity - with all the attendant losses and chaos. A new creative world order is taking shape, a new tilting point between north and south, the response of a connected and liberated youth who takes the control of the new decolonization. About Deena Abdelwahed A Tunisian producer and DJ, Deena Abdelwahed arrived in France at the age of 26 after earning her stripes on the Tunis scene and as part of the Arabstazy collective.

Das französische Label Infiné ist dafür bekannt, elektronische Musik jenseits ausgetretener Pfade zu veröffentlichen - hier wird Techno und House neu definiert. So passt es ganz gut, dass die aufstrebende tunesische DJ und Underground-Produzentin Deena Abdelwahed bei dem Lyoner Imprint eine Veröffentlichungsplattform gefunden hat. Abdelwahed performte in den letzten Jahren zwischen Boiler Room und Berghain in allen namhaften Clubs und hinterließ bei der globalen Dance-Gemeinde mehr als staunende Münder. Nach der im Frühjahr 2017 veröffentlichten EP "Klabb" präsentiert die Tunesierin mit "Khonnar" jetzt ihr sehnlichst erwartetes Debütalbum.

Was beide Tonträger vereint: sie verbinden nordafrikanische Klangelemente mit elektronischen Sounds, haben jedoch mit Weltmusik nichts am Hut.

The latest by Canadian composer Tim Hecker serves as a beacon of unease against the deluge of false positive corporate ambient currently in vogue.

Whether taken as warning or promise, No Highs delivers – this is music of austerity and ambiguity, purgatorial and seasick. A jagged anti-relaxant for our medicated age, rough-hewn and undefined.

Morse code pulse programming flickers like distress signals while a gathering storm of strings, noise, and low-end looms in the distance. Processed electronics shiver and shudder against pitch-shifting assemblages of crackling voltage, mantric horns (including exquisite modal sax by Colin Stetson), and cathedral keys.
Throughout, the pieces both accrue and avoid drama, more attuned to undertow than crescendo. Hecker mentions “negation” as a muse of sorts – the sense of tumult without bombast, tethered ecstasies, an escape from escapism. His is an antagonism both brusque and beguiling, devoid of resolution, beckoning the listener ever deeper into its greyscale alchemies of magisterial disquiet.