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Cloud Management return to Altin Village & Mine for a unique collaboration with New York writer and creative polymath Vivien Goldman.

A pairing spanning generations and geography, but with a musical overlap that is quite fitting in both process and result. Cloud Management’s jammy, improvisational approach to their dubby electronics blends well with Goldman’s idiosyncratic vocal style, which has its origins in the early days of post–punk and UK dub experimentalism. Cloud Management blend many historical aspects of German electronic music into something distinctly their own, while retaining a view well beyond those borders or any particular era. This approach fits well with Goldman’s deep multidisciplinary career, not easily defined because of its eclectic abundance across disciplines, yet always orbiting around music as its foundation.

When it comes down to it, these are great tracks created in the same way they sound: loose but refined, circling and turning inwards and outwards, back onto themselves. A dub of a dub of a dub, but never falling too far from the source — the minimalism necessary to deliver a direct, steady resolve and a gripping listen.

The B–Side of the record features three remixes by artists from across the globe, all with strong connections to the front line of dancehall, dub, and electronic music experimentalism. Longtime Equiknoxx member Time Cow from Kingston (Jamaica), delivers a version of »Quick Cover Up« that represents a major overhaul of the original. This remix strips away much of the looseness of the source material and leans into a lush yet slightly darker atmosphere, created by layered synths and a masterful use of underlying percussion and melodic stabs.

Up next are Twin Cities, Minnesota–based Feel Free Hi Fi, who take on »Judge Judge.« The duo tighten things up, overlaying weighty vintage string synths and digi–flute melodies. This version feels designed for smoky, late–night dub sound system sessions, harkening back to dub’s foundations.

Last but not least is London’s Pat Orburn. Stripped way down, the remix rides an interplay between alternating minimalism and a more lo-fi but lush exuberance, somewhat reminiscent of a bossa nova–esque minimal synth sound. This version’s lo–fi pop sensibility provides a fitting contrast and completes an eclectic yet copacetic trio of remixes for the record.

A century-old grand piano, a secluded house surrounded by the greenery of Brittany, no internet connection, and a reel-to-reel recorder.L'Écho de Bretagne, the new EP by Niklas Paschburg, set for release from fall 2025 via Nettwerk Music Group, is a solo piano record as essential as it is intense. An album made of silences, space, slowness. A music that doesn't chase impact, but truth.

the album release is march 26th - 2026.

If his previous work, Mexican Alps (2025), marked the first time the German composer and producer created an ambient-electronic album without his instrument of choice, the piano, L'Écho de Bretagne emerges as a direct response to that absence. "It was exactly the lack of piano that brought about the need for this new record, which instead puts that instrument, so vital to me, at the very center, stripping everything else away," Niklas explains.

Born in 1994, Paschburg has shaped over the years a musical path deeply connected to travel, nature, and introspection. From his debutTuur Mang Welten(2016) toOceanic(2018),Svalbard(2020),Panta Rhei(2023), and the aforementionedMexican Alps— alongside soundtracks, remixes, and collaborations with artists like RY X, Hania Rani, Ásgeir, and Bryan Senti — his sound bridges neoclassical, electronic, ambient, and pop-driven composition.

WithL'Écho de Bretagne, the Hamburg-born, Berlin-based musician continues his exploration by seeking solitude in nature, much like he did onSvalbard, but this time with an even more radical choice: disconnecting completely from the internet, and switching off both computer and smartphone for a while, in order to fully immerse himself in his new music. "I rented an old cottage in Paimpol, Brittany, where I knew there was a grand piano," he recounts. "When I got there, I discovered that not only was the piano more than a hundred years old, but it was also of an unknown brand, never restored, and quite difficult to play. But that gave it a unique character, and I didn't give up. Sure, it was an instrument left to its own fate, I couldn't play anything too fast. But how fascinating was that? I'm convinced that setting limits, instead of giving yourself total freedom when composing, can become an extraordinary source of inspiration."

As for the decision to temporarily detach from a life that demands we stay constantly connected, Niklas describes it as both a creative and human experiment. "I had my laptop and phone with me, just in case, but I kept them turned off. That choice made me wantL'Écho de Bretagneto be a fully analog work, even in how it was recorded." A way of clearing the mind. "I don't think I've ever been as calm as I was during those days in Paimpol. Even though I was working on a very specific project and didn't have much time, that period was more relaxing than any vacation."

Not that it was free of hiccups. "I'd borrowed a reel-to-reel recorder small enough to travel with me, but after recording a session on the piano, I realized it wasn't working properly, the sound was distorted, full of crackles. I got worried, because I wasn't near any big city where I could find a technician. Luckily, I figured out the problem was the old tape reels I had brought along. That was the only time I had to go online, to order new ones. But it was just for a moment. I shut everything off again right after." At that point, Niklas was waiting for the new tapes to arrive. He found out, completely by chance, from a local UPS courier that they had been delivered to a nearby village. "Since my phone was off, I couldn't track the shipment. So one day I asked this delivery guy, who didn't know anything about it. But from that point on, we'd see each other daily and talk… That's what being disconnected also means: reconnecting with people around you, even strangers. It was thanks to that courier that I found out where the tapes had ended up. And he even helped me get them back, writing directions for me on a scrap of paper."

But there's another element that makes this new EP unique.L'Écho de Bretagnewas recorded entirely live; its tracks are all improvised, complete with their imperfections. This approach leads to a sound that is pure, profoundly organic, and deeply authentic, intentionally preserved to give the listener the feeling of a live performance happening in their own living room. The touch of fingers on the keys, the breath of the wood, the tension of the vibrating string, all become part of the music. There is no construction, only expression. "Even now, when I listen back to it, I feel that moment I gave myself to step away from everything: from reality, from words, from noise." The result is a collection of suspended melodies and atmospheres, reflecting a state of the soul. A refuge from the rush of time. A pause from the world.

Australian indie and garage-rock firebrand, GIMMY unveils her new EP Labour of Love — a raw, emotionally charged collection that fuses gritty indie rock, post-punk bite and tender poetic expression, all powered by Gemma Owens’ unmistakable vibrato and fiercely honest songwriting.

Where her 2024 debut Things Look Different Now was a slow-burn, two-to-three–year voyage of change and introspection, Labour of Love hits with an entirely new force: intuitive, immediate and deeply connected to Owens’ emotional world. Written over six months and captured in an intense 4–5 day studio burst with producer Sam Joseph (King Gizzard), the EP moves with the urgency of something that needed to be felt and heard, right away.

Across seven compelling tracks, GIMMY dives into social anxiety, grief, falling in love and the chaotic beauty of everyday life, with each song arriving “on its own terms” — born from late-night home writing sessions, snippets of inspiration while travelling and moments of full-band electricity. Sonically, Labour of Love nods to Soft Play, Nick Cave, Fontaines D.C., The Preatures and The Smiths, yet remains unmistakably GIMMY: expressive, gritty, vulnerable, cheeky and alive in every moment.

Ultimately, the EP is an unfiltered snapshot of emotional truth, celebrating life’s highs, lows and everything in between, and showcasing GIMMY at her most dynamic, powerful and compelling to date.

Australian indie and garage-rock firebrand, GIMMY unveils her new EP Labour of Love — a raw, emotionally charged collection that fuses gritty indie rock, post-punk bite and tender poetic expression, all powered by Gemma Owens’ unmistakable vibrato and fiercely honest songwriting.

Where her 2024 debut Things Look Different Now was a slow-burn, two-to-three–year voyage of change and introspection, Labour of Love hits with an entirely new force: intuitive, immediate and deeply connected to Owens’ emotional world. Written over six months and captured in an intense 4–5 day studio burst with producer Sam Joseph (King Gizzard), the EP moves with the urgency of something that needed to be felt and heard, right away.

Across seven compelling tracks, GIMMY dives into social anxiety, grief, falling in love and the chaotic beauty of everyday life, with each song arriving “on its own terms” — born from late-night home writing sessions, snippets of inspiration while travelling and moments of full-band electricity. Sonically, Labour of Love nods to Soft Play, Nick Cave, Fontaines D.C., The Preatures and The Smiths, yet remains unmistakably GIMMY: expressive, gritty, vulnerable, cheeky and alive in every moment.

Ultimately, the EP is an unfiltered snapshot of emotional truth, celebrating life’s highs, lows and everything in between, and showcasing GIMMY at her most dynamic, powerful and compelling to date.

Talulah’s Tape is the debut offering from magnetic Midwest-jangle collective Good Flying Birds. Across a patchwork mixtape of stripped-down home recordings that span the independent-guitar spectrum, the band delivers colorful, intricate pop songs perched between the immediacy of DIY punk and the intimate sweetness of twee. Breakbeats, memes, and noise glue everything together, making the album feel as chronically online as it is timeless.

Originally released on cassette in January 2025 by Midwest-punk legend Martin Meyers’s Rotten Apple label, the tape sold more than 300 copies in under a month and quickly became an out-of-print and coveted item. Meyers called it “certified catnip for popheads.” Now, with a refined track list and a fresh master from Greg Obis, Talulah’s Tape returns on LP and CD via Carpark and Smoking Room in October 2025.

While production and approach vary, a through-line of sensitive self-contemplation rests on bright, scrappy guitars and hyperactive melodic bass. Opener “Down on Me” rides a buoyant bass line while jangling guitars frame reflections on overcoming trauma: “I see you in the mirror every time I cry / I hear your voice every time I try.” Next, the guitars trade twinkling counter-melodies on “I Care for You,” pairing sugary, lovestruck lyrics with effervescent strums: “You catch me when I fall / You build me up so tall.”

The rosy grin occasionally twists into a wicked smirk. “Dynamic” warns, “You used to paint the face, but now you’re just the clown,” while “Glass” asks, “Is it lonely at the top when everyone follows the trend, and you hold the pen?” Both tracks brim with sparkling guitar interplay. By the closing, nearly five-minute “Last Straw,” Good Flying Birds stand far beyond conventional indie-pop or 4-track punk, unveiling a roller-coaster of unpredictable changes, vocal harmonies, and instrumental cross-talk.

Altogether, Talulah’s Tape is a pastel-yellow, candy-coated shell filled with thoughtful juxtapositions and melodic experiments. Standing on the same ground as idiosyncratic songwriters like Connie Converse and Daniel Johnston, Good Flying Birds find sweetness in sadness, tear stains on a colorful flower-print couch. Simultaneously, it’s packed with the scratchy guitars and vibrant rhythms of Scottish guitar groups like The Pastels, Orange Juice, and Josef K. It’s a tremendous opening statement from a band just getting started.

The Fall were an English post-punk band, formed in Manchester in 1976. The band existed in some form ever since, and was essentially built around its founder and only constant member Mark E. Smith. Initially associated with the punk movement of the late 1970s, the group's music went through several stylistic changes over the years, but is often characterised by an abrasive guitar-driven sound and frequent use of repetition, and was always underpinned by Smith's distinctive vocals and often cryptic lyrics. The band was noted for its prolific output: and released over 25 studio albums, and more than triple that counting live albums and other releases. They have never achieved widespread public success beyond a handful of minor hit singles in the late 1980s, but maintained a strong cult following. The band were long-associated with BBC disc jockey John Peel, who championed them from early on in their career and cited The Fall as his favourite band, famously explaining, "They are always different; they are always the same.

Das fünfte Studioalbum von Avenged Sevenfold, "Nightmare", stieg 2010 auf Platz 1 der Billboard 200 Charts und auf Platz 5 der UK OCC Charts ein. Nach dem unerwarteten Tod des Schlagzeugers Jimmy "The Rev" Sullivan ist das Album seinem Andenken gewidmet und spiegelt in seinem Themen Tod und Verzweiflung wider. Mike Portnoy von Dream Theater sprang am Schlagzeug ein, um die Aufnahmen fertigzustellen. Metal Hammer bewertete das Album mit acht von zehn Punkten. Billboard bewertete es mit vier von fünf Punkten und Kerrang! gab dem Album vier von fünf Ks. Das Album gewann die Golden God Awards für den besten Schlagzeuger, den besten Gitarristen und das Album des Jahres. Es wurde für die Kerrang! Awards als bestes Album und beste Single (Nightmare) nominiert und vom Revolver Magazine für Buried Alive zum Song des Jahres 2011 gekürt. "Like their previous outings, the group incorporates a New Wave of British Heavy Metal influence throughout Nightmare while paying tribute to `80s hair metal with guitar god appeal; but playing retroactive music doesn't seem to concern them, as long as they play it more skillfully than their forefathers. The group's influences may be worn on their sleeves, (check out the chugging Metallica "One" breakdown in "Buried Alive," or the Queensrÿche-style power-ballad "Victim"), but there is no denying that they have some of the best chops in the metal world. M. Shadows continually amazes with his vocal acrobatics, the opening riff of "Natural Born Killer" ramps up to an inhuman speed. "Save Me" ends the album as one of their most epic songs to date, in a proper 21 gun salute, as thunderous blasts and guitar divebombs interweave into a heartfeltoutro. It's a fitting tribute for their fallen 28-year-old comrade, and excellent proof of the band's ability." - Für Fans von Metallica, Slipknot, Bullet For My Valentine, NWOBHM, Heavy Hair Metal, Metal

Warehouse Find!

Introducing Red D, the Belgian DJ and producer, one half of FCL (alongside San Soda), long standing club promoter (since 1992), owner of We Play House and general all round good guy. With releases on Ferrispark and Delusions Of Grandeur (with MCDE), remixes on Eskimo, regular sets at the likes of Panorama Bar and an RA Mix under his belt you could say things are falling into place nicely. On top of all this his FCL project continues to go from strength to strength with a new
EP dropping soon on Kai 'KZR' Alce's highly regarded NDATL label. When he sent over two originals for Freerange it was love at first listen as the simple, warm beats and emotive chord stabs of title track Chez oozed from the speakers. This sounded to me like house music in it's purest form, from the days when the focus was on a feeling rather than complex sounds or technological
trickery. And the proof is in the pudding with this one as you can feel the dance floor go into some kind of collective bubble of love whenever you play it. The second original follows drawing you into a false sense of security with familiar 707 beats and gentle pads before taking a left turn. Appropriately titled Into Darkness the blissful vibes of the intro begin to fall away as the
track reaches a breakdown and we're treated to the rudest of Chi-Town basslines taking us down a somewhat less wholesome path. Flipping over we're treated to two Jacob Korn remixes, one of each of the originals and if the A side is the good cop, we can trust the Uncanny Valley regular to deliver some pure badness on the flip. His Remix of Chez is clearly inspired by his studio hardware as you can hear the improvised and 'live'
sounding arrangement, the machines taking on a life of their own as things twist and turn in a spontaneous and unpredictable way. A rattling white noise pulse drives the rhythm whilst bubbling synths add some lightness to the pummeling
kick. Into Darkness gets the Korn treatment next and here he puts it right through the sonic mangler, tape saturation distorting the mix to within an inch of it's life. Jacob puts the focus on the bassline of the original, keeping things simple at
first before winding in layers of Juno chords and the bleepiest of synth lines resulting in the finest of raw, bassment house jams.

Undun is the story of a man, Redford Stevens, dying in reverse, rewinding from the moment he became a statistic and hitting the points in his life where he's at his most self-aware. That he's a criminal who got caught up in the familiar street-hustle trappings that the modern media's documented countless times is a pivotal detail-- it's hit at an angle that seems to emphasize the futile inevitability of it all. His life could be any number of misdirected narratives that ends with a toe tag, and what details listeners learn about him are hazy, buried under archetypal turns of fate and decisive struggles. That this protagonist is a fictionalized composite of a handful of real people, filtered through a matter-of-fact narrative that splits character ambivalence with journalistic impartiality, only makes his lack of direction and the failure of any real closure stand out even more. "Lotta niggas go to prison," Dice Raw states on "Tip the Scale", "how many come out Malcolm X?"

So the Roots' latest album isn't a sprawling, rise-and-fall crime story, not a condemnation or a veneration of a man living outside the law, not a bullet-riddled grand guignol heavy on explicit details of soldiers getting cut down. It's a character study of a man whose existential crisis ends only with his death-- a death gone largely unspecified, the glamor and tragedy washed over with a doomed resignation. That's a hard thing to pull off, even for a band as given to deep-thinking concepts as the Roots are. And when your main lyrical catalyst is Black Thought-- a man more given to allusions than direct statements-- it's likely that it'll take a while for the full scope of Undun to really sink in.

If and when it does, it might strike listeners as a bit skeletal: omit the mood-setting instrumental bookends, including a brief, four-part orchestral suite that builds off Sufjan Stevens' "Redford (For Yia-Yia and Pappou)", and you've got maybe a half hour's worth of material. By ?uestlove's accounts, writing Redford's story introduced the headaches and challenges that come with scriptwriting into their songwriting, and what's left on Undun is the end result of frequent revisions and rewrites that attempt to reconcile character, theme, and continuity. If it comes at the expense of nuance, it's not always obvious: There's an easy-to-trace narrative line from Redford's acceptance of his fate ("Sleep") to his acknowledgement of how close it's approaching ("Make My"), back through declarations of aggravated toughness ("One Time"), and celebratory fatalism ("Kool On"), along ups and downs that juxtapose motivation ("Stomp") and helplessness ("Lighthouse"). When the vocal portion of the album ends with two of the bleakest sets of verses in the Roots discography, peaking with the estrangement of "I Remember" and the desperation of "Tip the Scale", Undun reveals itself as a story where a man's actual death isn't quite as tragic as the circumstances that pushed him to it.

MTY-3.14 “π”, released on March 14, 2026, is the fifth and final chapter of a journey begun fifteen years ago.



This standard edition presents the final form of Polar Inertia across three 12" vinyl records, featuring 11 tracks. Nothing added, nothing removed—only the music, unfolding in full.



Images dissolve, words fall away. What remains are faint echoes, like footprints slowly erased in fresh snow.



This final opus does not close the path. It fades into it. π is not an ending, but a state: the moment where movement continues, even as the world turns silent.



A last step.
A final trace.
Still moving, beneath the cold.



POLAR INERTIA



We are no one because we want to be no one,
And to be no one we have to be everywhere and nowhere- Polar Inertia examines the enigmatic and blurry realms, embracing the art of obscured vision.


Encountering the collective Polar Inertia is much like being absorbed by fog and captivated by its ever-shifting forms and densities, with things being as indistinguishable as in a whiteout.



Formed in 2010 by a group of artists, Polar Inertia transcends visibility, delving into structures that lie beyond the public gaze. Layers upon layers intertwine within the fabric of Polar Inertia, extending beyond their profound electronic compositions and live performances. It manifests as a conceptual universe, where sound, monochrome aesthetics, and elusive narratives converge, much like trying to grasp the intangible fog. The entity that is Polar Inertia is involved in installations, print- and video work and texts created for different contexts and live in different spheres such as Palais de Tokyo in Paris or the Lyon Biennale of Contemporary Art. Still, clubs and festivals are perfect spaces to experience these nebulous soundworlds and immerse in them. Fittingly, some of Polar Inertia’s appearances include the colossal halls of Berghain and Bassiani and at experimental festivals like Mutek Montreal and Atonal Berlin, that like to break with the classic club conventions.



Polar Inertia's sonic landscape unfolds with wafting textures accompanied by resonating beats and drones, reverberating through empty spaces, merging with the vast expanse of nothingness. Their sound exists at the crossroads of ambient, experimental, and deep techno, interwoven with vocal narratives. Since their inaugural release “Indirect Light“ on Dement3d Records in 2011, they remain a stronghold of relevance and captivation in the electronic domain.



Mastered by sixbitdeep, with artistic direction by Diplomatie Studio.

It's hard to fathom Martin Bramah's trajectory from his beginnings as a guitarist/writer behind two crazily influential postpunk albums - The Fall's Live At The Witch Trials and Blue Orchids' The Greatest Hit (Money Mountain) (vocalist on the latter too, of course) - then nearly three decades of sporadic-at-best activity, offering releases just frequently enough to remind fans of his peculiar brilliance . . . before another stay in the void. Chalk it up to what you want - Mark E. Smith's utter usurpation of The Fall, his split from partner Una Baines after Blue Orchids' debut, the vague collapse of rash experimentation in `underground' music as early `80s nu-pop and American college rock diluted any real spirit, a few failed attempts at working with with Mark again . . . and maybe just life getting in the way. A sense of lost opportunities isn't tough to justify. Inasmuch as Martin was originally the singer for The Fall - Mark began as guitarist but couldn't play! - and given that the group's mythology was born in an era before that gang of Mancunian misfits had even thought of playing, it's high irony that 49 years after The Fall began, Martin has both become wildly prolific and the leader of a band with more rights of inheritance to The Fall's credibility than any other living person could justify . . .yet the band isn't remarkable for that as it is for the range and wealth extent of their collective powers and talent: two great and original guitarists, three of the UK's most daringly-skilled drummers, a genuine bass legend, and a brilliant spare Blue Orchid guitarist. Four albums in, the HOUSE Of ALL is getting ambitious, with each album a subtle improvement on the last, forging a path away from their pasts without denying a thing. Inklings differs from the first three for not having being largely improvised at first, with sounds, rhythm, groove and melody later forged into songs. They rehearsed! They had fun doing it! They're going on an extended tour! There were even extra tracks! We'll leave it to fans and critics to sit down and analyse the specifics of it all, but Steve, Si, Pete, Phil, Karl and Martin have made a bold and powerful album unlike any other you'll hear in 2026 . . . stately, majestic, bold and worthy of a group of real survivors. In perverse form, the album will be officially announced and preceded by a song not on the album!

Born in Douarnenez, at the far edge of Brittany (France), Komodor has quickly established itself as one of the most vibrant names in the French rock landscape. Their high-energy rock, fueled by fuzz, sweat, and vocal harmonies woven in the spirit of MC5 and T. Rex, immediately drew attention: Rolling Stone, Rock & Folk, Libération and Rock Hard Germany all praised the fiery impact of their debut album Nasty Habits (which sold over 2,000 vinyl copies). Since then, the quintet has mostly lived on the road: a long European tour, followed by the larger-than-life saga of Komodrag & The Mounodor, carrying them to stages such as Hellfest, Les Vieilles Charrues, and the Francofolies de La Rochelle, among many others.

Their second album, Time & Space, reveals a band in full metamorphosis. Without abandoning the explosive force that defines them, Komodor widens its scope: volcanic riffs, more sinuous grooves, mist-laden harmonies, psychedelic flashes… The energy is still wild, but more inhabited, more liberated, almost ceremonial at times. The record opens with two telling bursts: Bliss & Joy, a libertarian charge with the feel of a manifesto, and Soul Tricker, a rock incantation where trance overtakes sheer electric assault. Two sides of the same coin, pulled taut between urgency and enchantment.

On stage, Komodor remains a true shockwave, forged across European festivals (Freak Valley, Motocultor, Fête du Bruit, and more) and now awaited at the legendary Desertfest London. Their music feels made for such spaces: a visceral, flesh-and-amp kind of rock, drawing from the seventies’ heritage to speak even more vividly to the present. A band moving forward at full volume, without nostalgia or calculation, carried by a simple conviction: as long as the amps are hot, rock can still burn.

In short: Komodor is the band of friends from Douarnenez bringing pencil-and-paper rock into the streaming age while preserving its analog soul (with the album mastered at the legendary Miraval Studios), the smell of warm tubes, the grain of vinyl. With this second album, they hit harder, truer, and more vividly than ever.
Time & Space stands as a “must-have French rock record”, a tangible piece worth cherishing in any collection.

Born in Douarnenez, at the far edge of Brittany (France), Komodor has quickly established itself as one of the most vibrant names in the French rock landscape. Their high-energy rock, fueled by fuzz, sweat, and vocal harmonies woven in the spirit of MC5 and T. Rex, immediately drew attention: Rolling Stone, Rock & Folk, Libération and Rock Hard Germany all praised the fiery impact of their debut album Nasty Habits (which sold over 2,000 vinyl copies). Since then, the quintet has mostly lived on the road: a long European tour, followed by the larger-than-life saga of Komodrag & The Mounodor, carrying them to stages such as Hellfest, Les Vieilles Charrues, and the Francofolies de La Rochelle, among many others.

Their second album, Time & Space, reveals a band in full metamorphosis. Without abandoning the explosive force that defines them, Komodor widens its scope: volcanic riffs, more sinuous grooves, mist-laden harmonies, psychedelic flashes… The energy is still wild, but more inhabited, more liberated, almost ceremonial at times. The record opens with two telling bursts: Bliss & Joy, a libertarian charge with the feel of a manifesto, and Soul Tricker, a rock incantation where trance overtakes sheer electric assault. Two sides of the same coin, pulled taut between urgency and enchantment.

On stage, Komodor remains a true shockwave, forged across European festivals (Freak Valley, Motocultor, Fête du Bruit, and more) and now awaited at the legendary Desertfest London. Their music feels made for such spaces: a visceral, flesh-and-amp kind of rock, drawing from the seventies’ heritage to speak even more vividly to the present. A band moving forward at full volume, without nostalgia or calculation, carried by a simple conviction: as long as the amps are hot, rock can still burn.

In short: Komodor is the band of friends from Douarnenez bringing pencil-and-paper rock into the streaming age while preserving its analog soul (with the album mastered at the legendary Miraval Studios), the smell of warm tubes, the grain of vinyl. With this second album, they hit harder, truer, and more vividly than ever.
Time & Space stands as a “must-have French rock record”, a tangible piece worth cherishing in any collection.

Detroit mixmaster Omar S serves new techno from out of leftfield with 'I Like You', a fresh 12" from the self-professed "best dance music producer and track mixer using faders (not a mouse)" in the city. Omar's all-analogue focus shines through here, professing his amourance for the listener in a short three-track spate. The mix job varies from crunchy to subdued to dynamic; 'I Like You' is the freakiest and roughest, a proper nerve shredder with fizzling hi-hats, 'Sad Techno' falls in the latter camp, sounding less melancholic than alien, a central acid burble glugging away against skeletal kicks. The closing track, meanwhile, 'Before Romance' bumps along with a funk feel that's so low slung it's on the verge of lewdness. Needless to say, we like it a lot.

Daniel Lopatins (Oneohtrix Point Never) Soundtrack für Marty Supreme, gepresst auf schwarzem und transparentem Vinyl. Kommt mit japanischem Obi-Band und doppelseitigem "Koto Endo / Marty Supreme Offizieller Ball"-Poster. Der Film Marty Supreme ist eine Abenteuerkomödie von Josh Safdie aus dem Jahr 2025 und ist lose vom Leben Marty Reismans inspiriert, die in den 1950er-Jahren spielende Geschichte ist jedoch fiktiv. Die Hauptrolle des titelgebenden Tischtennisspielers übernahm Timothée Chalamet. Gwyneth Paltrow, Odessa A'zion, Kevin O'Leary, Tyler Okonma, Abel Ferrara und Fran Drescher ergänzten das Schauspielensemble. Marty Supreme ist der erste Film von Josh Safdie nach Beendigung der kreativen Zusammenarbeit mit seinem Bruder Benny. Das Werk wurde Anfang Oktober 2025 im Rahmen des New York Film Festivals uraufgeführt. Der US-Kinostart war an Weihnachten 2025. Ende Februar 2026 soll der Film in die deutschen Kinos kommen. Die Filmmusik von Daniel Lopatin wurde im Jahr 2025 für einen Hollywood Music In Media Award (HMMA) nominiert. Im Rahmen der Critics' Choice Movie Awards 2026 wurde Marty Supreme in die Shortlists für die Kategorien Casting & Ensemble", Szenenbild", Kamera", Kostüme", Filmschnitt" und Filmmusik" aufgenommen. Im Dezember 2025 gelangte der Film auf die Oscar-Shortlists für das beste Casting, die beste Kamera, das beste Makeup & Hairstyling und die beste Filmmusik. (Quelle: Wikipedia)

Critically acclaimed Death Metal force TEMPLE OF VOID return with their new album, The Crawl. The caveman brawn of previous albums, namely Summoning the Slayer (2022), remains, but there’s a wider dynamic on the group’s fifth full-length album at play. Now a quartet—featuring guitarist Alex Awn, drummer Jason Pearce, vocalist/guitarist Mike Erdody, and bassist Justin Malek—the Michiganders aren’t shying away from their non-metal influences, seeking greater integration of grunge and post-punk with their brutish signature. Singles “The Crawl” and “Soulburn” demonstrate the proficiency of TEMPLE OF VOID's death-cloaked, spearheaded attack. From the high intensity of opener “Poison Icon” to the granite wall of “The Twin Stranger,” The Crawl isn’t just TEMPLE OF VOID evolved, it’s a harbinger of death metal to come. “The biggest shift for me on this record was not feeling like we had to fly the ‘death-doom banner’ as part of our identity,” says Alex Awn. “Death-doom, as a genre, gave us something to anchor our sound around when we started. It was always a reference and touchstone. At the same time, we always wanted to make sure we had our own spin on it. We’ve always been adding to the conversation, adding to the genre, giving our point of view. A huge part of what makes a Temple of Void record is the non-death-doom influences that make up our DNA. And on album five we never once asked ourselves, ‘Do we have enough death metal? Do we have enough doom metal?’ We simply wrote a heavy-ass record—let the chips fall where they may.” For lyrics, Erdody built on the psychology and fear themes of Summoning the Slayer. The overarching theme of The Crawl is, put rather simply, an “allegory about life, choices, and consequences.” It’s a qualitative view on the horrors of the human condition and the contemplation of our monstrous capabilities. “The Twin Stranger,” for example, is about being stalked by a person’s doppelganger; “Godless Cynic” draws on a short story by sci-fi author Harlan Ellison; and “Poison Icon” tackles the crushing effects of mankind’s intrinsic nature to deceive and control.

Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.

For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.

The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.

Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”

The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.

Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.

Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.

The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.

‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”

The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”

Synthpop, minimal wave, post-punk, goth, new romantic - fans and critics alike have dug deeply into their vintage thesauruses to describe the beguiling work of Nation of Language. And if you can't precisely define the band, that's the point. Frontman Ian Richard Devaney has become prodigious in expanding what synthesizer-driven music can evoke, such that his output is as much an extrasensory journey as it is an all-too-human destination. With that experience in mind, he wrote the band's fourth album - the spectral, spacious Dance Called Memory - in the most humble of ways: chipping away at melancholia by sitting around and strumming his guitar. Nation of Language's first two albums, Introduction, Presence (2020), and A Way Forward (2021), came as pandemic godsends: gorgeous, relatable soundtracks to our collective doldrums. But it was their last LP, Strange Disciple (2023), that catapulted the group from cultural standouts to critical darlings, with the album being named Rough Trade's Album of the Year. With that release, Pitchfork wrote that the band "are learning what it means to get bigger and better." This is Devaney's calling: soulfully translating individual despair into a comforting, collective mourning. The single "Now That You're Gone," which radiates and reverberates with a devastating wistfulness, was inspired by witnessing his godfather's tragic death from ALS, and his parents' role as caretakers for this ailing friend. At its heart, the song is a reflection of how friends can be there for each other, and also highlights a theme throughout the record: the pain and lost promise of friendships that fall apart. On Dance Called Memory, the band once again collaborated with friend and Strange Disciple producer Nick Millhiser (LCD Soundsystem, Holy Ghost!). "What's so great about Nick is his ability to make us feel like we don't need to do what might be expected of us," says synth player Aidan Noell, who, along with bassist Alex MacKay, rounds out the Nation of Language lineup. They imbued Dance Called Memory with a shifted palette - sampling chopped-up drum breaks on "I'm Not Ready for the Change" for a touch of Loveless-era My Bloody Valentine or smashing all of the percussion of "In Another Life" through a synthesizer to cast a shade of early-2000s electronic music. Ultimately, the hope was to weave raw vulnerability and humanity into a synth-heavy album. "There is a dichotomy between the Kraftwerk school of thought and the Brian Eno school of thought, each of which I've been drawn to at different points. I've read about how Kraftwerk wanted to remove all the humanity from their music, but Eno often spoke about wanting to make synthesized music that felt distinctly human," Devaney says. "As much as Kraftwerk is a sonically foundational influence, with this record I leaned much more towards the Eno school of thought. In this era quickly being defined by the rise of AI supplanting human creators I'm focusing more on the human condition, and I need the underlying music to support that_ Instead of hopelessness, I want to leave the listener with a feeling of us really seeing one another, that our individual struggles can actually unite us in empathy."