quête:b say

A gorgeous and gripping portrait of Fenne's last two years, Big Picture was pieced together in an effort to self-soothe. Tracked live in co-producer Brad Cook's North Carolina studio, the album delineates the phases of love and becomes a map of comfort vs claustrophobia. Though its creation took place amid personal and global turmoil, the ruminative yet candid Big Picture is Fenne's most cohesive, resolute work to date, both lyrically and sonically. "This isn't a sad album _ it's about as uplifting as my way of doing things will allow," she says. "These songs explore worry and doubt and letting go, but those themes are framed brightly." With confidence and quiet strength, each track provides an insight into Fenne's ever-changing view of love and, ultimately, its redefinition _ love as a process, not something to be lost and found. While the album was written alone in Fenne's Bristol flat - a fact intentionally reflected in its compact sonic quality - Big Picture was transformed from a solitary venture into a unifying collaboration during the recording process when she was joined by her touring band, Melina Dutere of Jay Som (mixing), Christian Lee Hutson (guitar and co production), and Katy Kirby (vocals). Notably, these 10 songs are Fenne's first and only to have been written over the course of a relationship; 2018's On Hold and 2020's BREACH both confront the pain of retrospection, saying goodbye to a love that's gone. Big Picture does the exact opposite _ rooted firmly in the present, it traces the narrative of two people trying their hardest not to implode, together. "This album is an observation of the way I think about love, the selfexamination that comes with closeness and the responsibilities involved in being a big part of someone else's small(er) world," summarizes Fenne. "It was written in a place of relative emotional stability - stability that felt unstable because of its newness, but also because of the global context. 2020 was the year of letting go, but we'd all already let go of so much and nothing felt like mine anymore. Writing always did, though, so that's what I chose to do."

ULTRAMARINE VINYL

A gorgeous and gripping portrait of Fenne's last two years, Big Picture was pieced together in an effort to self-soothe. Tracked live in co-producer Brad Cook's North Carolina studio, the album delineates the phases of love and becomes a map of comfort vs claustrophobia. Though its creation took place amid personal and global turmoil, the ruminative yet candid Big Picture is Fenne's most cohesive, resolute work to date, both lyrically and sonically. "This isn't a sad album _ it's about as uplifting as my way of doing things will allow," she says. "These songs explore worry and doubt and letting go, but those themes are framed brightly." With confidence and quiet strength, each track provides an insight into Fenne's ever-changing view of love and, ultimately, its redefinition _ love as a process, not something to be lost and found. While the album was written alone in Fenne's Bristol flat - a fact intentionally reflected in its compact sonic quality - Big Picture was transformed from a solitary venture into a unifying collaboration during the recording process when she was joined by her touring band, Melina Dutere of Jay Som (mixing), Christian Lee Hutson (guitar and co production), and Katy Kirby (vocals). Notably, these 10 songs are Fenne's first and only to have been written over the course of a relationship; 2018's On Hold and 2020's BREACH both confront the pain of retrospection, saying goodbye to a love that's gone. Big Picture does the exact opposite _ rooted firmly in the present, it traces the narrative of two people trying their hardest not to implode, together. "This album is an observation of the way I think about love, the selfexamination that comes with closeness and the responsibilities involved in being a big part of someone else's small(er) world," summarizes Fenne. "It was written in a place of relative emotional stability - stability that felt unstable because of its newness, but also because of the global context. 2020 was the year of letting go, but we'd all already let go of so much and nothing felt like mine anymore. Writing always did, though, so that's what I chose to do."

Tape

A gorgeous and gripping portrait of Fenne's last two years, Big Picture was pieced together in an effort to self-soothe. Tracked live in co-producer Brad Cook's North Carolina studio, the album delineates the phases of love and becomes a map of comfort vs claustrophobia. Though its creation took place amid personal and global turmoil, the ruminative yet candid Big Picture is Fenne's most cohesive, resolute work to date, both lyrically and sonically. "This isn't a sad album _ it's about as uplifting as my way of doing things will allow," she says. "These songs explore worry and doubt and letting go, but those themes are framed brightly." With confidence and quiet strength, each track provides an insight into Fenne's ever-changing view of love and, ultimately, its redefinition _ love as a process, not something to be lost and found. While the album was written alone in Fenne's Bristol flat - a fact intentionally reflected in its compact sonic quality - Big Picture was transformed from a solitary venture into a unifying collaboration during the recording process when she was joined by her touring band, Melina Dutere of Jay Som (mixing), Christian Lee Hutson (guitar and co production), and Katy Kirby (vocals). Notably, these 10 songs are Fenne's first and only to have been written over the course of a relationship; 2018's On Hold and 2020's BREACH both confront the pain of retrospection, saying goodbye to a love that's gone. Big Picture does the exact opposite _ rooted firmly in the present, it traces the narrative of two people trying their hardest not to implode, together. "This album is an observation of the way I think about love, the selfexamination that comes with closeness and the responsibilities involved in being a big part of someone else's small(er) world," summarizes Fenne. "It was written in a place of relative emotional stability - stability that felt unstable because of its newness, but also because of the global context. 2020 was the year of letting go, but we'd all already let go of so much and nothing felt like mine anymore. Writing always did, though, so that's what I chose to do."

PURPLE VINYL


A Wednesday song is a quilt. A short story collection, a half-memory, a patchwork of portraits of the American south, disparate moments that somehow make sense as a whole. Karly Hartzman, the songwriter/ vocalist/guitarist at the helm of the project, is a story collector as much as she is a storyteller: a scholar of people and one-liners. Rat Saw God, the Asheville quintet's new and best record, is ekphrastic but autobiographical and above all, deeply empathetic. Across the album's ten tracks Hartzman, guitarist MJ Lenderman, bassist Margo Shultz, drummer Alan Miller, and lap/pedal steel player Xandy Chelmis build a shrine to minutiae. Half-funny, half-tragic dispatches from North Carolina unfurling somewhere between the wailing skuzz of Nineties shoegaze and classic country twang, that distorted lap steel and Hartzman's voice slicing through the din. Rat Saw God is an album about riding a bike down a suburban stretch in Greensboro while listening to My Bloody Valentine for the first time on an iPod Nano, past a creek that runs through the neighborhood riddled with broken glass bottles and condoms, a front yard filled with broken and rusted car parts, a lonely and dilapidated house reclaimed by kudzu. Four Lokos and rodeo clowns and a kid who burns down a corn field. Roadside monuments, church marquees, poppers and vodka in a plastic water bottle, the shit you get away with at Jewish summer camp, strange sentimental family heirlooms at the thrift stores. The way the South hums alive all night in the summers and into fall, the sound of high school football games, the halo effect from the lights polluting the darkness. It's not really bright enough to see in front of you, but in that stretch of inky void - somehow - you see everything. The songs on Rat Saw God don't recount epics, just the everyday. They're true, they're real life, blurry and chaotic and strange - which is in-line with Hartzman's own ethos: "Everyone's story is worthy," she says, plainly. "Literally every life story is worth writing down, because people are so fascinating." But the thing about Rat Saw God - and about any Wednesday song, really - is you don't necessarily even need all the references to get it, the weirdly specific elation of a song that really hits. Yeah, it's all in the details - how fucked up you got or get, how you break a heart, how you fall in love, how you make yourself and others feel seen - but it's mostly the way those tiny moments add up into a song or album or a person.

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson_a first for Fruit Bats_with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms_from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines. It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

BLUE & BONE VINYL

Eric D. Johnson rarely lingers at one location too long. As a kid growing up in the Midwest, Johnson's family moved around a lot, but it wasn't until he became a touring musician years later that motion became a central part of his identity. That transient lifestyle stoked an enduring reverence for the world he watched pass by through a van window. A sense of place is a unifying theme he's revisited with Fruit Bats throughout its many lives. From the project's origins in the late '90s as a vehicle for Johnson's lo-fi tinkering to the more sonically ambitious work of recent years, Fruit Bats has often showcased love songs where people and locations meld into one. It's a loose song structure that navigates what he calls "the geography of the heart." "The songs exist in a world that you can sort of travel from one to another," says Johnson. "There are roads and rivers between these songs." Those pathways extend straight through the newest Fruit Bats album, aptly titled A River Running to Your Heart . Self-produced by Johnson_a first for Fruit Bats_with Jeremy Harris at Panoramic House just north of San Francisco, it's Fruit Bats' tenth full-length release and one that finds the project in the middle of a creative resurgence. After two decades of making music, hard-earned emotional maturity has seeped into Johnson's songs, resulting in a more complex sound that's connected with audiences like no other previous version of Fruit Bats. A River Running to Your Heart represents the fullest realization of that creative vision to date. It's a sonically diverse effort that largely explores the importance of what it means to be home, both physically and spiritually. And while that might seem like a peculiar focus for an artist who's constantly in motion, for Fruit Bats, home can take many forms_from the obvious to the obscure. Lead single "Rushin' River Valley" is a self-propelled love song written about Johnson's wife that clings to the borrowed imagery of the place where she grew up in northern California. Then, there's the gentle and unfussy acoustic ballad "We Used to Live Here," which looks back to a time of youthful promise and cheap rent. But the wistful "It All Comes Back" is perhaps the most stunning and surprising track on the album, Johnson's production skills on full display. Built upon intricate layers of synths, keyboards, and guitars, it's a pitch-perfect blend of tone and lyricism that taps into our shared apprehensions and hopes for a post-pandemic life. "We lost some time / But we can make it back / Let's take it easy on ourselves, okay?" sings a world-weary but ultimately reassuring Johnson in the song's opening lines. It's the kind of performance that makes you hope Fruit Bats stays in this one place, at least for a little while longer.

“Shambly Television Personalities/Swell Maps style earworm indie rock.” Brooklyn Vegan

“RIPPER! Melbourne’s TERRY return to complete a hat trick of three albums in three years (TERRYilogy?) that leaves the piss streak that is the rest of indie pop in 2018 dribbling down its own leg in the dust.” 8/10 CLASH

Call me Terry! It’s been a hot minute since we last heard from Terry, what’s he been up to? Five years on from their last album, ‘I’m Terry’, the Australian post-punk quartet proudly present their new record, ‘Call Me Terry’, for release on April 14th 2023.
Terry is made up of pairs Amy Hill & Al Montfort, and Xanthe Waite & Zephyr Pavey who started playing together for the fun of it in 2016. Seven years, four albums and three EP’s later, Terry is ready to pick up the phone again. Over the past few years Terry have kept themselves busy - but not only with Terry things. On top of numerous releases with alternating side projects (Constant Mongrel, The UV Race, Primo!, Sleeper & Snake, Chateau, Rocky, the list goes on… ) members of Terry have moved interstate, undertaken studies, had children and started new fields of work.
Terry began sharing the demos for ‘Call Me Terry’ online with each other in 2020 - as we all did - before getting together in 2021 at their trusty rehearsal space to record the beds. Overdubs were completed at Terry’s homes over the following year. Lyrically, in true Terry fashion, the record wastes no time in scrutinising Australia’s corrupt, colonial history. They sing it loud and sprawl it across the jacket of this record, highlighting the greed, privilege and entitlement of white, wealthy “Australia” which they won’t stand a second for.
Musically, ‘Call Me Terry’ still has the classic Terry sound; the four vocals singing as one gang, sharp guitars and quirky, burbling synths, the rolling bass and drums, all amidst their clever, dancey pop songs. Since day dot it’s been hard to reference a band that really sounds like Terry, which is always amazing. Truly a sound of their own!
But the sugar on top here may just be some of their finest horn, string and piano performances to date - all of which never feel crowded, cluttered or over-involved. More just excellent, necessary melodies. Rest assured Al still gives his famed Fuzz Factory a workout - and throws his tremolo into the pedal chain. It goes off. Tremolo is the order of the day for Amy and Xanthe too who also embrace the wobble, whilst Zephyr keeps the pulse of their politico-pop anchored.
Terry isn’t afraid to call the shots and Terry isn’t afraid to point the finger. Listen to what Terry has to say.

Red Vinyl

“Shambly Television Personalities/Swell Maps style earworm indie rock.” Brooklyn Vegan

“RIPPER! Melbourne’s TERRY return to complete a hat trick of three albums in three years (TERRYilogy?) that leaves the piss streak that is the rest of indie pop in 2018 dribbling down its own leg in the dust.” 8/10 CLASH

Call me Terry! It’s been a hot minute since we last heard from Terry, what’s he been up to? Five years on from their last album, ‘I’m Terry’, the Australian post-punk quartet proudly present their new record, ‘Call Me Terry’, for release on April 14th 2023.
Terry is made up of pairs Amy Hill & Al Montfort, and Xanthe Waite & Zephyr Pavey who started playing together for the fun of it in 2016. Seven years, four albums and three EP’s later, Terry is ready to pick up the phone again. Over the past few years Terry have kept themselves busy - but not only with Terry things. On top of numerous releases with alternating side projects (Constant Mongrel, The UV Race, Primo!, Sleeper & Snake, Chateau, Rocky, the list goes on… ) members of Terry have moved interstate, undertaken studies, had children and started new fields of work.
Terry began sharing the demos for ‘Call Me Terry’ online with each other in 2020 - as we all did - before getting together in 2021 at their trusty rehearsal space to record the beds. Overdubs were completed at Terry’s homes over the following year. Lyrically, in true Terry fashion, the record wastes no time in scrutinising Australia’s corrupt, colonial history. They sing it loud and sprawl it across the jacket of this record, highlighting the greed, privilege and entitlement of white, wealthy “Australia” which they won’t stand a second for.
Musically, ‘Call Me Terry’ still has the classic Terry sound; the four vocals singing as one gang, sharp guitars and quirky, burbling synths, the rolling bass and drums, all amidst their clever, dancey pop songs. Since day dot it’s been hard to reference a band that really sounds like Terry, which is always amazing. Truly a sound of their own!
But the sugar on top here may just be some of their finest horn, string and piano performances to date - all of which never feel crowded, cluttered or over-involved. More just excellent, necessary melodies. Rest assured Al still gives his famed Fuzz Factory a workout - and throws his tremolo into the pedal chain. It goes off. Tremolo is the order of the day for Amy and Xanthe too who also embrace the wobble, whilst Zephyr keeps the pulse of their politico-pop anchored.
Terry isn’t afraid to call the shots and Terry isn’t afraid to point the finger. Listen to what Terry has to say.

Rupert Marnie’s debut album “Evocative Rhythm” is a singular object to begin with. Split over two parts, each one working as an individual piece and under seemingly endless configurations when played together on a pair of record players, “Evocative Rhythm” is an elusive piece of musical abstraction you will play a crucial role in shaping, fashioning it as you dabble with it - certainly curious and cautious at first, then manipulating its raw clay more firmly as you envision it with a clearer idea of where to go with it. Or is that just a mirage?
Fruit of geographical meanderings through Hamburg’s tentacular architecture, Rupert Marnie’s maiden full-length effort reflects that of the city’s tonal, rhythmic and harmonic structures in a uniquely vibrant way: dancy and not, ethereal and full-bodied, oneiric and anchored. From field recordings garnered here and there across town, then either truncated, morphed, stretched out beyond recognition via a wide palette of technical means (granular synthesis, time-stretching, use of resonators, delay, reverb, pitch-shifting…), Marnie weaves a narrative that bridges the gap continually betwixt non-formulaic beatless meditation and proper club-focused functionality, plus the countless possible creations that will emerge when combining both sides of the disc to form your own story out the battery of elements at reach.
Evocative Rhythm” is much more than the sum of its parts. A mirage of ambient, techno, electro, whatever style and labels that could be stuck all over it, yet never managing to say a true word of it.

She’s out of this world…

Maltese musician & producer Joon’s galactic debut arrives on our shores fully formed a decade after she first set sail. 12 cuts of uniquely addictive Synthesized Pop twist & turn on the rocky waters of life.

Her story begins after a life-changing car crash on the streets of Malta many moons ago. She was lucky to walk away in one piece. “That car crash was a wake-up call,” she says. “It made me realize how precious life is & I started living the life I felt was worth living.” Inspired to finally pursue her love of music full time, she began collecting instruments. Starting with a Stylophone& a vintage rhythm box, she started documenting ideas. Returning home to Malta after a few years in London, she only met one other woman making electronic music on the island. Driven by the desire to make music possible & accessible for the next generation, Joon co-founded the Malta Sound Women’s Network.

Ten years later, she sends us messages in a bottle from across the Mediterranean Sea. Armed with a Moog & her ethereal voice, she transmits hope & joy from a bedroom somewhere between Sicily & North Africa. Her music is right at home alongside outsider pioneers like Fever Ray, Grimes, Laurie Anderson & Molly Nilsson. Dream Again glides across heavy rhythms & eclectic electro. Telling stories of alienation with a throbbing heartbeat & space-age melodies, she lets us into her ultra-vivid world where anything is possible. Produced by Johnny Jewel, the album shines bright like comet orbiting the label’s dark sky, a much-needed vision of light on the horizon.

“Even if I’m sad or heartbroken, I remain optimistic. I want to grow old with no regrets.”

It’s time to Dream Again…

Out of the many artists, both new and established, that Futurepast has welcomed to its family, Spanish producer and DJ Eduardo De La Calle is one that we can definitively call a legend. His vast discography includes many of dance music's most appreciated labels, so we're humbled to present a full EP from him.

His EP "Kardama" emerged as the winter of 2022 bled into 2023, a period where he'd actually been producing more downtempo works, so "Kardama" is his most recent take on techno; a genre he is certainly well-versed in with over 25 years experience.

As a reflective work, De La Calle processes emotions and thoughts with analog methods, reverse delays and pedals on "Kardama". The emotions that he holds close to himself show up in the detail that sits deeper within each track.

"I simply make music with the intention of feeling better" says De La Calle, "it is a therapy for my mind and for my spiritual state. Through a creative process, I feel calm and useful for the world and for myself."

Originally by Tripped, STRONK was made in 2018 and released digitally on MAD001. due to succes, it also got featured on MADINCH001 (12") the following year.

It goes without saying that we are super excited to bring you this remix project after 5 years. Ranging from Hard Industrial Techno, Hardcore Techno and Gabber, these tracks should get your booty going.

Special thanks to the remixers who were willing to take on this challenge, and absolutely smashed it out of the park, each in their own way.

For their debut album, Chappaqua Wrestling knew that they wanted to step above the noise of the concrete everyday. “To match their song about political despondency and social change, Jake Mac and Charlie Woods wanted to create surrealist artwork, teetering on the brink of despair and release.

“We wanted to kind of render ourselves in, jumping off this roof with a beautiful landscape behind it,” says Jake. “Falling gracefully, but also potentially not making this crazy fall.”

“It’s a record about exploring,” nods Charlie. “We just wanted to get something that has us thrusting ourselves into this new place, but get this weird eye-trickery thing going on. You want to start a conversation, like is this real? Maybe that’s for us to know…”"

Trey Gruber's posthumous debut double LP Herculean House of Cards. A compilation of early demos, studio demos, and live recordings. A tortured songwriter and struggling addict who jolted the tired Chicago DIY scene with his own brand of primal despair, Trey Gruber and his band Parent were on track to join the ranks of Twin Peaks, Mild High Club, and Whitney. His death in 2017 at the age of 26 brought it all to a halt. In his final years Trey wrote and recorded hundreds of previously unheard demos, dandelions in the cracked concrete of 21st century disconnect, an alphabet's worth of which have been compiled by his family and friends for his only album: Herculean House Of Cards. The 26-song 2xLP covers years of material, from home tape recordings, sessions at Mathew Roberts (Mild High Club) & Paul Cherry's home studio, to a studio session with Charles Glanders (Whitney) at Chicago's Foxhall Studios, along with audio taken at The Hideout during his last live performance, among others. Though Gruber was an unrelenting perfectionist who was constantly self-deprecating about his best demos, Herculean House of Cards is a wholly comprehensive and accurate reflection of his infectious charisma and raw songwriting. He had a charmingly distinct way with words but also could be disarmingly vulnerable. Like he was in life, Gruber never shied away from being open with his struggles with alcoholism and addiction. On the vivid opener "Eisenhower to the West Side," he sings in painstaking detail of, "A jail-skin cell, a junkies fight/Corner-boys full of grace/And Jesus Christ full of spite." He told then-future bandmate flautist Rebecca Ridge, "It's not some Lou Reed glorification of drugs _ `makes me feel like a man'_ I talk about the disconnect and the ugliness. They're sad pop songs." But even with the pain and the darkness in his lyrics, Gruber's songs had an unmistakable sense of hope and catharsis.

Trey Gruber's posthumous debut double LP Herculean House of Cards. A compilation of early demos, studio demos, and live recordings. A tortured songwriter and struggling addict who jolted the tired Chicago DIY scene with his own brand of primal despair, Trey Gruber and his band Parent were on track to join the ranks of Twin Peaks, Mild High Club, and Whitney. His death in 2017 at the age of 26 brought it all to a halt. In his final years Trey wrote and recorded hundreds of previously unheard demos, dandelions in the cracked concrete of 21st century disconnect, an alphabet's worth of which have been compiled by his family and friends for his only album: Herculean House Of Cards. The 26-song 2xLP covers years of material, from home tape recordings, sessions at Mathew Roberts (Mild High Club) & Paul Cherry's home studio, to a studio session with Charles Glanders (Whitney) at Chicago's Foxhall Studios, along with audio taken at The Hideout during his last live performance, among others. Though Gruber was an unrelenting perfectionist who was constantly self-deprecating about his best demos, Herculean House of Cards is a wholly comprehensive and accurate reflection of his infectious charisma and raw songwriting. He had a charmingly distinct way with words but also could be disarmingly vulnerable. Like he was in life, Gruber never shied away from being open with his struggles with alcoholism and addiction. On the vivid opener "Eisenhower to the West Side," he sings in painstaking detail of, "A jail-skin cell, a junkies fight/Corner-boys full of grace/And Jesus Christ full of spite." He told then-future bandmate flautist Rebecca Ridge, "It's not some Lou Reed glorification of drugs _ `makes me feel like a man'_ I talk about the disconnect and the ugliness. They're sad pop songs." But even with the pain and the darkness in his lyrics, Gruber's songs had an unmistakable sense of hope and catharsis.

When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.

Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.

There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.

Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same.

In 2015, when we launched Hip Dozer, we were overwhelmed by the amount of talent that was still championing this old school way of making beats and the incredible creativity that was circulating in the scene.

In a period where hip hop was evolving so much and going further (sometimes for the better but also for the worse), it was obvious to us that we had to defend this rising scene of young beatmakers who were so attached to the roots of old-school beatmaking but who were always taking it to another level.

It's been 7 years since we created Hip Dozer Records with our first anniversary compilation and that's what makes this compilation so special every time. Its purpose remains the same and will always be to champion the art of beatmaking that we love and to help showcase new artists in the scene.

This year we are lucky enough to have some of our favourite talents from the scene on board with artists like Saib, Flughand, Phoniks, Cookin Soul, SoulChef and Wun Two.

We would like to say a huge thank you to all the artists who have been involved in this project and who have been as enthusiastic as we are in making it happen. It has been such a pleasure since the beginning of this adventure and this is only the beginning. Much love to all of you who listen and support wherever you are.

Welcome to the "Consume Land Flea Market". This is the atmospheric setting and at the same time the luminous title of the debut album of young producer Noayama. "It centers on the contradiction between turbo-capitalist consumerism and the desire for vintage stuff in all kinds of shapes and colors to escape reality for a bit. I think it's quite a nice and suitable metaphor for the position my generation is in right now" says the 21-year-old producer, musician and interdisciplinary artist.

On about 40 minutes, Noah Berger, who grew up near Munich, spans a wide musical arc with his alter ego Noayama. He combines Hip Hop aesthetics with playful Electronica and acts skillfully in the interstices of Pop. Hints of 70s Funk hedonism, Old-School House vibes and modern J-pop sensibilities can also be found on "Consume Land Flea Market." The binding agent of the album is Noayama's "Punk Attitude" which comes through clearly on his tracks and beats and is an elementary part of his producer DNA. "I just like to drift, it's very central to the way I work" adds Noah.

Just as important for him are intergenerational collaborations, which adorn his debut work in numerous ways. An illustrious round of artists is therefore represented on CLFM. It starts with young female rap artist Maassai from the New York underground scene who can be heard on the pulsating opener "Get You Back". Also from N.Y.C is Hprizm, a member of the legendary avant-garde rap group Anti-Pop Consortium, who is featured on the dark and gritty "I Went Left" and the bouncer "War." Funkstörung is also involved here. Not too much of a coincidence as Noah has been encouraged since his teenage days by his father Michael Fakesch, one half of the Glitch-hop pioneers who became famous in the late 90s. With "The Legendary Godmother of Japanese Electronica" Coppe' on "Majesty" and the German singer-songwriter her tree on the song "Flâner", introverted pieces have also found their place on CLFM. In addition multilingual verses with Silo Inf3rnx from the townships in Gugulethu on "Ingozi" and on top "the homies from the neighborhood" Anothr and Taprikk Sweezee who give the album further facets through their contribution.

Noayama combines elements and working methods of the last five decades in a relaxed manner and bundles them into a genuine piece of work. Emblematic of this approach is the choice of features. So is the gear he uses. He incorporates old synths (Roland Jupiter 8, Nordlead) and drum machines (Roland 808, Roland 909) with playful ease with common software tools. It's also pretty convenient that he's currently studying Digital Arts at the Kunstuni Linz. In fact, his semester project is the visualization of his own album which means that every single track and every interlude gets its own video. Well, Noayama is just a gambler.

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.