Buscar:b9

Musique Pour La Danse is proud to present the definitive edition of the highly acclaimed and globally beloved Donkey Kong Country soundtracks, meticulously recreated by composer and producer Jammin' Sam Miller. Released in 1994 for the Super Nintendo Entertainment System (SNES), Donkey Kong Country was celebrated not only for its groundbreaking quasi-3D graphics but also for its exceptional soundtrack.
The soundtrack featured a variety of compositions, and has been highly praised for its diverse and high-quality music, with tracks like "Aquatic Ambiance" and "Fear Factory" standing out as fan favorites. The influence of the Donkey Kong Country soundtrack extends beyond the gaming world, having inspired modern artists and changed the way video game music was perceived.

This limited edition boxset, limited to 500 copies, comes as a triple DLP set, containing Volumes 1, 2, and 3. Pressed on red, green, and blue marbled vinyl, it is housed in a hardboard slipcase featuring new and original artwork by Andrew Beltran.

Don't sleep on this ultimate release-the previous boxset edition has been sold out for a long time, and if you can find it, it's being sold for crazy money.

Using hex SPC data converted to MIDI, Jammin' Sam Miller painstakingly recreated the DKC soundtrack note by note, sourcing the original equipment used to create it. He then translated the MIDI into a modern studio context, incorporating keyboard samples, remixing the sounds with added effects, and mastering the tracks. To learn more about his process, watch the explanatory video here: cutt.ly/ulUHE6J.

Dune: Prophecy is an HBO original series based on the
best-selling books by Frank Herbert and Brian Herbert, and a spin-off to the blockbuster movies of Dune.

The music for the series was composed by Academy Award-winning composer Volker Bertelmann (All Quiet on
the Western Front, Conclave, Lion), whose evocative, futuris- tic ambience, meets bold, powerful orchestral tracks on this score, accompanying the story.

Set 10,000 years before the ascension of Paul Atreides, Dune: Prophecy follows two Harkonnen sisters as they combat forces that threaten the future of humankind and establish the fa- bled sect that will become known as the Bene Gesserit. Dune: Prophecy is inspired by the novel “Sisterhood of Dune”, writ- ten by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson.

The soundtrack of Dune: Prophecy is available as a limited edition of 1000 numbered copies on orange “Spice” marbled vinyl and includes a 4-page booklet with pictures from the series.

In 2022, Osàre! Editions founder Elena Colombi approached artists and musicians with a prompt: Every body, everyone needs love to flourish. In her book The Will to Change, the eminent author and social activist, Bell Hooks, invites men to excavate their innermost selves, challenging the way that patriarchal society limits their capacity for intimacy, tenderness, care and emotion. As hooks lays out, feminist thought and work requires the collective participation of all genders in order to realise a liberated world. How can we imagine cross-gender solidarity through music and art? And how can we tell sonic stories that facilitate our full potential as desiring beings? These are the questions that The Male Body Will Be Next starts out from.

The title of the record draws connections between hooks' writing, a film by Rebecca Salvadori and Peter de Potter's stunning photo series of the same name. In de Potter and Salvadori's depictions, men's bodies appear as vulnerable, naked and exposed.

Divided into two parts, the first instalment of The Male Body Will Be Next hinges on colliding energies – the melding of club dance floors and haunting ambient textures, agile techno and noisy experimentation.

'The sun on my skin… it’s so warm and gentle,’ speak-sings Olivia Salvadori on ‘Su Di Te M’Infrango’, visualising utopias. Laurel Halo crafts a dreamscape spun from golden threads of synth and strings. Pensive and reflective, Ben Bertrand’s bass clarinet roams searchingly, its piercing tonality full of longing. Yet, in between these lucid, cinematic passages and spoken word, The Male Body Will Be Next finds space to dance together. Moving in fervent, rhythmic patterns, Sepehr’s ‘Divooneh’ pivots between tension and release. Filmmaker unleashes a wave of energy and The Spy delivers a potent take on vintage electro, the track title hinting at the double-bind of gendered expectations. Propelled between these eclectic styles, the record encapsulates the full spectrum of sonic expression.

Clear vinyl w/ blue splatter. Limited to 250 copies. Formed in 2000, Boston-based band Death Before Dishonor has made a name for themselves with their uncompromising style of hardcore and energetic, intense live performances. Throughout their career, the band has released five albums, building a dedicated international fanbase. On May 16th, Death Before Dishonor will release their sixth album, Nowhere Bound, through Bridge Nine Records. Produced by Zeuss, the record showcases 11 aggressive, fast-paced, and purposeful tracks that are made for the moshpit.

Goed nieuws voor punkfans en nostalgische herrieschoppers: BLPRecords brengt de eerste twee LP's van Belgian Asociality opnieuw uit! De legendarische albums 'Belgian Asociality' (1989) met nummers als Boederie, Miep Miep en Keerbergen en 'Astamblief' (1991, met klassiekers als Bompa Punk, Jupiler Reggae en Stagedive zijn opnieuw verkrijgbaar op vinyl, allebei in een beperkte oplage van 500 exemplaren op gekleurd vinyl.

Gewapend met snedige teksten, genadeloze riffs en een onmiskenbaar Belgisch gevoel voor absurdisme, groeide Belgian Asociality uit tot een van de meest iconische en eigenzinnige punkbands van het land. Met hun unieke mix van punk, hardcore en maatschappijkritische humor schopte de meest asociale punkband van Belgë vanaf eind jaren '80 keihard tegen de schenen van de muziekscene. De groep onstond in 1988 in Mechelen en Keerbergen en is tot op heden een band met een stevige live-reputatie. Belgian Asociality is nog steeds zien op de Belgische concert - en festivalpodia.

Die Grammy-Nominierte Singer-Songwriterin Jessie Reyez veröffentlicht ihr drittes Studioalbum „PAID IN
MEMORIES“, welches mit ihrer einzigartigen Mischung aus R&B, Soul & zeitgenössischem Pop überzeugt.
Mit den Vorboten des Albums „RIDIN“ Ft. Lil Wayne, „JUST LIKE THAT“ Ft. Ari Lennox & „GOLIATH“
liefert uns Jessie die für sie typischen furchtlosen Lyrics und fesselt ihre Zuhörenden mit ihrer gefühlvollen
Stimme. Die gebürtige Kanadierin arbeitete in der Vergangenheit bereits mit internationalen Größen, wie
Calvin Harris („Hard To Love“), Dua Lipa („One Kiss“) und Sam Smith („Perfect“) zusammen. Ihr Debü-
talbum „Before Love Came To Kill Us“ erreichte kürzlich sogar den Gold Status bei der Recording Industry
Association of America (RIAA).
„PAID IN MEMORIES“ ist auf CD und Vinyl erhältlich.

If Hawalat sounds like a world tour that’s because it essentially is. “As much as Marzipan is a picture of Lebanon from the inside, Hawalat kind of picks up from where Marzipan finished but more looking to the outside, the diaspora, to the notion of exile.” Megarbane says he is interested in the connections between the global and the domestic, the mundane and the cosmic, and wanted to create space for non-linear progression.

Hawalat is based on the idea of hawala, informal money transfers that you can make to certain countries impacted by a lack of currency or unstable political and economic contexts. His use of the term on this album is not a financial one, Megarbane explains, but a nod to notions of creative exchange between “places, persons, generations.” It is the first time Megarbane called on other musicians in this way to inform his sound, including a collaboration with Sven Wunder on the song Helia featuring strings by the Stockholm Studio Orchestra.

The album opens with first single Hanadi, a punchy Somali-inspired track with warm non-lexical vocals and saxophone. It immediately pivots to the Dreams of an Insomniac, which balances soft, effortless vocals and keys with urgent violin intrusions. Al Dollarji feels like Megarbane’s bread and butter, that is Mediterranean sounds with intricate strings, while Al Bahriye takes this staple and introduces hip hop inflections. The result is a rich 17 track album that effortlessly blends genres and styles.

Including 8 page, 12" sized booklet with unseen photos and liner notes by Armani Syed.

Some time back just after then and before now, i was approached to work up a rough working script for a Punk Rock film, based on a boys entre into the whole Punk Arena and how it would affect his life. A loosely updated tale somewhere along the lines of a ‘Punk Quadrophenia’.

After many stop / starts and we are waiting for funding… etc, etc... and changing of ideas. I thought I better just get on with it. I worked up twelve tracks and put an opening script together for approval. Like some of the best made plans, as time moved on, so did the theme and the initial rush of enthusiasm rolled on to somewhere else.

A shame but lurking in the back of Punk Art studios the tapes were found and a bent up copy of the working introduction script. So here it is in all its rough and ready glory. Who knows what might have been but here is some of what could have been… hope you enjoy the idea.
Mal-One

Second volume of tributes from Kutmah.
A beat tape for the brotha from anotha planet, the most high Ras G & the Afrikan Space Program
All beats by Kutmah / Cover Photos By Kevin Ramos

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Another mixtape reissued by Death Is Not The Enc in partnership with Philadelphia's punk archivists World Gone Mad, a 90 minute overview of rare material from the annals of Poland's dark wave scene, 1982 to 1989.

Four Flies Records is proud to present Paesaggio Bellico, a collection of unreleased music from legendary composer and multi-instrumentalist Alessandro Alessandroni.

Available digitally starting on the centenary of the maestro's birth on 18th March 2025 and on vinyl on 21st March, Paesaggio Bellico is a true gem hidden within the vast treasure trove of Italian film scores and library music.The album brings together themes and atmospheric pieces inspired by the world of war, viewed not just from a military standpoint, but also through a deeply human and existential lens.

The LP version features 18 tracks, while the digital release expands to 29, including alternate takes and thematic variations. These compositions were meticulously unearthed from scores written and recorded by the maestro between 1969 and 1978 for television documentaries and war films.

Alessandroni's war-inspired music masterfully balances action, suspense, and introspection. Expansive, panoramic themes give way to anxious, tormented moments. Horrifying visions are countered by calmer atmospheres, and glimmers of hope soften the intensity of pain.

Each track embodies the unique sound that has made Alessandroni an irreplaceable figure for soundtrack and library music enthusiasts. His signature whistle – so unmistakable for generations of fans of the genre – soars above delicate 12-string acoustic guitar arpeggios. More dramatic pieces feature his iconic Fender Stratocaster, equipped with a fuzz distortion pedal. And, of course, Alessandroni's vocal group, the Cantori Moderni, a constant presence in his arrangements, contribute, this time lending their voices to the more unsettling aspects of military psychology. An elegant string section adds depth and emotional impact to the more orchestral tracks, completing the picture of this monumental work.

The result is a sonic journey that delves into the darkest, most martial sides of war, but also explores its intimate and deeply painful dimensions, creating a powerful dialogue between the atrocities of conflict and the human emotions it evokes.

The release is enriched by original artwork from Eric Adrien Lee, who reimagined the 1970s graphic design of Italian war-themed library albums. The vinyl LP is housed in a tip-on hard cover (the kind used for higher-end productions during the golden age of Italian soundtracks), with an inner sleeve featuring a color-inverted variation on the cover art, which makes the physical record even more unique.

VINYL COMES IN A HIGH-QUALITY SCREEN-PRINTED COVER!
LIMITED TO 200 COPIES!

Coinciding the cinema release of ‘Der Wald in mir’, the soundtrack by Gregor Schwellenbach is being released in an exclusive edition in high-quality screen-printed covers by director and artist Sebastian Fritzsch. Microtonal strings in dialogue with electronic sounds, noise music, drones and ambient, complemented by improvisations by experimental string wizards Emily Wittbrodt and Matthias Kaiser. These different worlds of sound are linked by melodic motifs that come together in the final end credits song. This closing track was created in collaboration with indie artist Jungstötter, 'a singer, whose intense aura I associate with the sensitivity and emotional depth of the main character Jan, just as I hear the strength and unflinching devotion of the character Alice in co-singer Isabelle Pabst.’ (Gregor Schwellenbach)
Pünktlich zum Kinostart von „Der Wald in mir“ erscheint der Soundtrack von Gregor Schwellenbach in einer exklusiven Schallplattenedition in hochwertigen Siebdruck-Covern von Regisseur und Künstler Sebastian Fritzsch. "Um Jans Innenwelt gerecht zu werden, wollten wir uns einer enormen musikalischen Vielfalt bedienen: Mikrotonale Streicher im Dialog mit elektronischen Klängen, Geräuschmusik, Drones und Ambient, ergänzt durch Improvisationen von Emily Wittbrodt und Matthias Kaiser, bis hin zu New Wave und zur Indiepop-Ballade. Diese verschiedenen Klangwelten werden durch melodische Motive verbunden, die im finalen Abspannsong zusammenfinden. Dieser Schlusstitel entstand in Zusammenarbeit mit Jungstötter, einem Künstler, dessen intensive Aura ich mit der Sensibilität und emotionaler Tiefe der Hauptfigur Jan verbinde, so wie ich in Co-Sängerin Isabelle Pabst die Stärke und unbeirrte Zugewandtheit der Figur Alice höre." (Gregor Schwellenbach)

Grimm Grimm's new release, Untitled II (2025), is a distinctive sound collage/mixtape that blends grainy cassette recordings with demo tracks from a 4-channel recorder. The original release, limited to only 30 copies, included a cassette tape, a pillow cover, and a bundle of sleeping pills. Sold exclusively at the London record shop Atlantis Records, it sold out instantly and has become a rare, sought-after collector's item. The album features guest contributions from contemporary artist Naima Karlsson and Colorado-based singer-songwriter Josephine Foster.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

"“It clicked for me one day, that the album was going to be about hornets,” explains Sputnik, the mononymous songwriter behind the noise-pop project Weatherday.

“It just made sense to me.” Hornet Disaster, Weatherday’s follow-up to their 2019 debut Come in, and spiritual successor to 2022’s collab release Weatherglow, is their most expansive work to date. In Weatherday’s initial bout of inspired writing and recording, they produced over 70 songs for the record, but not before they had a complete, overarching narrative that was coherently tied back to Sputnik’s previous work.

It’s a bustling record with disparate songs each vying for space like wasps in a swarm. It can inspire caution and chaos, but there’s wonder, purpose, and a certain familiarity there, too. Weatherday has extended the knotted, thrashing maximalism of Come in by doubling down with the uncompromised, no-stone-unturned nature of Hornet Disaster. Where Come in was the product of an artist searching for their voice, Hornet Disaster represents the joyful abandon that comes from having found it."

For the first time on vinyl, J Rawls 1999 beat series offers scenes 1-3 and 6 never before heard tracks. All these beats are from the archives of Rawls in his early years (1996-1999) as a young producer in Cincinnati, OHIO. These beats are the essence of that Rawls sound and embody his entire style. According to Rawls, “I did this album because I have had so requests for my music from that underground hip-hop era. This record took me back to a time when making music was just for fun.”