Buscar:basement space

First time reissue of this French cold-wave / minimal-synth treasure.



November 1981 – In the heart of autumn, we set off in two cars along the Nationale 1 (!) to reach Choisy-le-Roi, where a 16-track studio was waiting for us—a place where, over the course of a weekend, we would finally be able to carve our own grooves into vinyl. We were quite nervous, as Guerre Froide had already been around for a year and a half. Our elders in Kas Product had already released two EPs—one with four tracks, the other with three—in 1980, even though they’d started only a few months before us. Admittedly, there wasn’t really a sense of urgency—some of us came from the punk movement, where the prevailing mood was still very much No Future, even if we’d long since stopped believing in it... And yet others had truly lost everything, like those from the generation before us. The reasons, ironically, were often the same: heroin and/or love—hard drugs, in both cases.

Speaking of which, I had a terrible stomach ache—due to nerves or some form of tension—which forced us to make a pit stop in the Oise region so I could rush to the toilet of a local café. That same stomach discomfort would hit me again once we arrived at the studio—whose name, incidentally, I’ve since forgotten...

We had gotten there thanks to the generous initiative of a friend, Sylvain S., known as “Perlin” (what a phonetic coincidence!?), who had specifically created the Stechak Products label to produce our record. Stechak because it was consistent with his earlier association called Tchernoziom, and Products as a plural tribute to the trailblazers from Nancy.

Guerre Froide originally consisted of four members: Fabrice Fruchart on guitar-synth (Korg MS-20), Patrick Mallet on bass, and Gilbert Deffais, known as “Bébert”, on Korg drum machine. At the time, I was already singing in a rock/post-punk band called Stress, and that’s how Guerre Froide picked up the bad habit of rehearsing in the same basement in Amiens as Stress. Within a month or two, we had half a dozen songs. We then had the opportunity to record a 4-track demo with a friend from Radio France Picardie, and to perform in October at a festival held at the Amiens municipal circus. Then came the now-legendary concert on November 11 at B.J.’s Club. After that, we self-produced and released 50 completely DIY copies of a cassette titled Cicatrice. A few concerts later—after Jean-Michel Bailleux had joined us on bass and Patrick had switched to guitar, which felt more natural to him—and with more concrete plans starting to take shape, we had to find a new rehearsal space and start renting a room.

Then came the moment when Fabrice told us he was leaving to go study in Lille... After the June 19, 1981 concert, which was naturally dubbed “Farewell to 2F,” Marie-José, Bébert’s wife, offered to take over on synth.

That’s when Perlin, who was a close friend of the Deffais couple and a great fan of our music, offered to fully finance the production of a 4-track 12-inch EP—covering the studio time, mastering, pressing, and artwork. What up-and-coming band would have turned that down? An improvised contract was signed with each member of Guerre Froide. The first step was choosing which four songs we would record. Berlin 81 was an obvious pick, having already become the group’s flagship track. We wanted to avoid reusing songs from Cicatrice, so the focus shifted to new material—some written before, some after Fabrice’s departure. Ersatz, for example, was his composition, but Mauve and Peine Perdue, which were also selected, were both written by Patrick.

Some 12 months on from Bait dropping Nantes-based Soa420's debut EP, No Nerve, the label is back with an exclusive vinyl-only VIP version of the title track. But first comes the original, which is still a devastating cut with a booming low end and eerie sense of open space and late-night shadows that keep you looking over your shoulder. This rework transforms the original's moody ambience and icy textures with jostling, fuller drums and tech-edge grit for more direct results in the club. Also included is 'Basement 31 (feat Stacktrace)' with a dark, immersive energy, creepy low-end wobbles and a serene sense of futurism.

‘Two taches intertwine. An EP born out of Demi’s visit to Melbourne during his AU tour, and Luke’s easily accessible studio based above an inviting pub, naturally the vibes were high after a couple of schooners in the summer sun.’
Life & Death welcomes a standout collaboration from Demi Riquísimo and Luke Alessi with the release of their new EP ‘Yes Bby’ landing 29 August 2025. Setting themselves the brief of, “upbeat rollers and a little bit of naughtiness,” the two producers blend their sonic identities on this club-ready two tracker, formed of ‘Basement Trash’ and title track ‘Yes Bby’.
“Basement Trash was actually the first track we wrote. A funky, fun, hypnotic groover thatlocks you in on the d floor, made for those late nights (or early mornings) in the “basement” of a grungy club. For ‘Yes Bby’ we wanted something that worked on a bigger scale. We dialled up the French rave synths, bigger builds, more drive in the groove and added a cheeky classic vocal chop for the hook.”
– Demi Riquísimo & Luke Alessi

Known for his genre-blending productions and distinctive edits, Semi Delicious head honcho Demi has steadily carved out his space in the scene, a respected tastemaker and Ibiza mainstay, while Luke Alessi has continued to establish a global profile over the last 12 months with major European and US gigs, plus releases on Shall Not Fade, SMiiLE records and of course Life & Death, making this pairing a natural fit.
Already receiving support from the likes of Chloé Caillet, Call Super, Moxie and more, ‘Yes Bby’ marks an exciting moment in both artists’ trajectories. For Demi, this EP also serves as the first in a new chapter, one that places him at the centre of a more collaborative space, setting the tone for landmark projects to follow on his own imprint later this year.
As one of dance music’s most respected tastemakers, Life & Death continues to shape the global underground through its diverse output, with ‘Yes Bby’ slotting seamlessly into the label’s catalogue of playful, sexy and forward-thinking club music.

Brazilian Psychedelic Rock Artist Firefriend via Cardinal Fuzz and Little Cloud Records announce a first time vinyl pressing for the classic - “999 to 666 ts Street” Prepare to take the long way through the void — Brazilian sonic architects Firefriend present the searing “999 to 666 TS Street”, a full-length LP that bends time, bleeds color, and dives deeper into the cracked corridors of psychedelic rock. With roots tangled deep in the underground of São Paulo and their eyes forever fixed on the cosmic unknown, Firefriend has carved out a space uniquely their own — a distorted dreamscape where shoegaze meets fuzz, noise folds into melody, and every track is a doorway. “999 to 666 TS Street” is a concept record that navigates a haunted psychogeography: an address etched between realities, where spiritual unrest collides with dystopian daydreams.

A Journey Through Sound and Shadow Drenched in fuzzed-out guitars, whispered vocals, analog synths, and pulsing rhythms, this LP sees the trio — Yury Hermuche (guitar/vocals), Julia Grassetti (bass/vocals), and Cacau Bandeira (drums) — begin to forge the fearless vision they seek. From the opening surge to the final fractured lullaby, “999 to 666 TS Street” is both a destination and a transmission: a call to the wanderers, the outsiders, and the seekers. But Firefriend's mission isn’t just sonic — it’s political.

As proudly left-wing artists with an internationalist vision, the band channels the disillusionment and resistance of a generation watching the world teeter. Their music radiates both critique and hope, connecting the dystopia of late capitalism with a dream of liberation. Whether playing São Paulo basements or European festivals, Firefriend brings an urgent message beneath the haze: solidarity is louder than silence. "This album is a street you can't find on any map — it's the place your mind goes when you turn the lights off," says frontman Yury Hermuche. "It's noise, beauty, and a little bit of danger." "We wanted to build a record that feels like a fever dream on vinyl," adds bassist Julia Grassetti. "Something physical, something that glows in the dark." About Firefriend Known for their hypnotic live shows and cult international following, Firefriend has shared stages with underground legends and graced the grooves of multiple celebrated independent releases.

They’ve become essential listening for fans of Spacemen 3, The Brian Jonestown Massacre, and The Velvet Underground — yet remain wholly, defiantly themselves. “999 to 666 TS Street” marks the start and is another milestone in their prolific catalog, pushing the limits of psychedelic rock while remaining anchored in the beautifully bleak emotionalism that defines their sound. Beneath the distortion lies a worldview — anti-authoritarian, borderless, and defiantly alive.

3XL boss and scene hyper-connector Special Guest DJ (aka uon, shy, Caveman LSD) lands on their own label with a debut album of hazed ambient noise and aquatic club anarchitextures, with a patented, heady style bent into new shapes.

For nigh on a decade, Berlin-based American producer, label boss, promoter and DJ Shy has operated at the centre of a scene that's still not fully defined. Their mythical DJ sets, where you're likely to hear precision-tweaked dubstep, dreampop, decelerated rap and dubwise ambient blended into vapour; gives some sense of the vibes at play, and a comb thru their spiderweb of a catalog - as Caveman LSD or uon, as part of Ghostride the Drift, Hoodie, crimeboys, virtualdemonlaxative and Cypher, or as the figurehead of 3XL, Experiences Ltd, xpq? and bblisss labels - further blurs that gist.

They've been caught in the crossfire of Big Ambient, sure, but there's always been something scrappier, sexier and more present going on under the hood. Shy and his network of associates - Huerco, Ulla, Perila, Ben Bondy, Naemi/Exael, Ponteac Streator and Arad Acid, among others - have asserted the interrelatedness of their discrete approaches. So-called "ambient" music doesn't exist in a vacuum, it un-focuses elements that undergird so many more corporeal sounds, and for Shy, their music reflects the druggy, DIY, genre-agnostic ethos of a trans-Atlantic neo-punk underground that exists in some liminal zone between the club, the bedsit and the basement.

Concerned with themes of “anger, sensuality, and dreaming”, the 40 minute roil of ‘Our Fantasy Complex’ frames Special Guest DJ at their most unapologetically oblique and illusive, expanding and contracting between whorls of shoegazing dynamics and extended portions of quasi-speed D&B x dub tech smeared on the mind’s-eye, with a vivid sense of bruised lushness that’s perfused all shy’s work thus far.

Joined by kindred collaborators Ben Bondy, Arad Acid and mu tate, and suspended in agitated bliss by Rashad Becker’s lucid mastering, the results feel out some of 2025’s most considered and distinctive within an amorphous zone that’s become a world unto itself. Ambient music’s fluffier signifiers are swapped out for a sort of sublime tension that, like the sound’s original ‘90s explosion, can be heard to reflect states of altered consciousness - both individual and collective.

Shy's layered, undulating productions are more like the chewed remnants of a thousand mixtapes cooked into a stream-of-consciousness hex. Save for the glistening, zoomed-out parting piece ‘Dream’, it all mostly avoids pretty melodies in favour of a spatio-textural sensuality that wraps us up, sometimes uncomfortably intimately, in shy’s thoughts. That oneiric closer is one of three gritty palate cleansers that swirl around its peaks, where elements of Reese-bass are suspended, writhing below looming atmospheric pressure in ‘How Long Can I Burn?’, emerging charred and flecked with rattled percussion on ‘Yoro (pt I & II)’, as though K-holing thru a blazing summer’s day.

In step with Perila’s notably darker turn of events on her ‘Omnis Festinatio Ex parts Diaboli Est’, album, or the unexpected ferocity of recent Space Afrika live shows, it’s not hard to hear a darkside gravitational pull on this one, where ambient music is no longer just a balm for troubled souls, but also suggestive of humanity’s most frightful odours.

After more than a decade of music-making, Durand Jones & The Indications have blossomed as a unit and are basking in their successes. On their aptly titled new album, Flowers, The Indications unfurl their true colors _ embracing all their roots and influences, maturation and confidence, and share them with the world. Since forming in 2012, the road has taken The Indications from those origins at Indiana University, Bloomington to the global stage, selling out shows across Europe, Japan, Australia, and New Zealand to the West Coast_ where DJI has a strong following among the lowrider and vintage soul enthusiasts. For as far as Durand Jones & The Indications have come, Flowers grew from the desire to return to their roots in a Bloomington basement, a space where they first found camaraderie in gritty funk and Southern soul that would inspire their self-titled debut. Pulling sonically and spiritually from each of the group's previous releases and solo work, Flowers is the next stage of DJI's inspired soulful discography. DJI are not only accepting their flowers, but indulging in their sweet and sexy fragrance.

Deep house don DJ Aakmael kicks on with the release of some previously never before on vinyl remixes. He is a man who knows how to cook up warm yet dynamic sounds that are perfect for back rooms and basements when you want to get up close and personal. 'Window Seat' finds him tackling smoky soul sounds and flipping them into spaced-out deep house magic. 'I Know U Care' is then a more upbeat jam with organic percussion and swinging drums topped with another gorgeous r&b vocal. Two cosy party starters from this ever-on-form American.

First Word Records are proud to present the debut single from Above The Clouds (aka kidkanevil & Magic Manfred) with their instrumental take on an MF DOOM classic, 'Arrow Root'

One of the original First Word roster, UK Producer/DJ and all-round laptop music geek kidkanevil has developed a distinctive and progressive sound over the years, gleefully exploring the beats and bleeps of the electronic music universe to international recognition. Leeds born, sound system bred and raised on a (un)healthy diet of video games and anime, his solo work inhabits the curious space between bass frequencies and otaku culture. But as a devoted teenage backpack rap nerd, somewhere in the back of kid's mind was a lingering desire to reconnect with his first love, hip hop.

Not long after moving to Berlin he joined a studio space in graffiti plastered Kreuzberg, where he met multi instrumentalist wizard Magic Manfred; a disciple of all things boogie, disco, funk and soul. Born and raised in Berlin, and currently a touring musician for many an act, Manfred's musical map joins the dots from piano lessons at four, to starting a band with his teenage friends, leading him to his true calling - the bass - via the club vibrations of his hometown, which introduced him to the world of DJing and production, and a stint studying in the explosive London jazz scene to finalise his Jedi training.

Bonding over their mutual love of '90s hip hop, a friendship and musical kinship developed, coupled with a desire to honour past eras but push things forward, Above The Clouds was born; named after their joint favourite DJ Premier beat, with a touch of irony regarding their basement based studio of a windowless variety.

kidkanevil explains "We did a number of covers to sort of get warmed up and in the pocket, of which 'Arrow Root' was one. I actually interviewed DOOM once, mask and all, and I always regretted I forgot to ask him about the original sample. It's been one of my favourite DOOM beats forever and it came up in conversation one day, then manifested pretty quickly into a session. It came together with relative ease and quickness, which is usually a good sign. Manfred worked out the chords and I remade the drums in about the same time frame. Mario is an exceptional saxophone player based in Berlin, so a few text messages later she came by the studio and nailed the entire thing on her first take. And that was that, our humble tribute to the supervillain!"

This one is backed up on the flip side with 'Tram Delay Beat'; a low slung neck-snapper teasing more of what's to come.

This is the first single from the duo, with a long player now in the works…

Above the crowds, above the clouds, where the sounds are original, infinite skills create miracles…

With a clutch of EPs under his belt spanning a wealth of pallets, Henzo narrows the focus on his debut studio album “The Poems We Write For Ourselves” - a culmination of persistent iterations over several years, distilling his sonic milieu into something that feels decidedly his own. The album proper is coupled with a debut live performance which reinterprets the tracks and splices them with omitted material from the time of writing - recorded in full in the intimate confines of Manchester’s growingly infamous Stage and Radio basement. Honing his craft in the shadows of Lancashire, Poems is an expansive reflection of the producer’s time spent away committing to the scope of an LP.

A thread of stratified sound design weaves throughout the record, but with a discerning dancefloor proclivity mostly prevalent. Cold opener “Noggin” riffs on noughties Raster-Noton a la Byetone rebuilt with fractal tear out DnB, with closer “Indulgence” following suit on a puckered plod of Dub Techno ambience. More club-focussed moments come in the form of “Rustica Slump” and “Blue Will...”, the former’s sickly sweet vocals resolved by the latter’s stoic UKG/Techno rudeness. “A Bouquet of Clumsy Words” channels mechanical shuffle with a stripped back 2/4 pulse whilst maintaining a firmly FWD>>energy alongside “Plant Your Roots In Me” on a similar vector - swapping out a straight kick pattern for a bludgeoning 808 assault on an early Hessle-indebted tip.

“Take Stock, Touch Grass” harks to golden era ClekClekBoom and Night Slugs with a bare bones kick and vocal motif, updating the formula with a tweaking lead line that places it firmly in the contemporary space. “Swell:Shrink” sings from the same sheet with a shrieking, space age wobble doing the heavy lifting, knocking the pace back to a shoulder-lean swagger on a slow fast conundrum Henzo has shown his flair for on previous releases.

The outliers to Henzo’s more known approach, “Worm Grunting” with Belfast’s Emby, an amalgamation of halfest time DnB and illest mannered Road Rap, plus “The Rest Is The Mess You Leave”, a starkly anti-retro Ghettotek endeavour, give grounds to the LP. Clearly rooted in the comfortable universe of the dancefloor, these tracks expand the producer’s realm into loftier heights as he graduates into long play land.

Deadbeat's latest release is from Malta's own acid pilot - Acidulant. As you'd expect, DBR006 throbs, oozes and drips 303.

If Planet Jack's uncompromising acid baseline is all business (and we're talking Wolf of Wall Street shit here), Taken A Trip is here to play - mischievous, joyous and eventually bursting into a climax of pure acid house. No doubt, these tracks know their heritage - Taking Orders From Machines channeling the energy of electronic originators Kraftwerk via an East London basement at 0600am.

And when the breaks start to kick this EP truly ascends. The growling physicality of Coming Down To The Underground prowling the floor before Space For Crap's anthemic hook lifts us into ecstatic bliss.

After more than a decade of music-making, Durand Jones & The Indications have blossomed as a unit and are basking in their successes. On their aptly titled new album, Flowers, The Indications unfurl their true colors _ embracing all their roots and influences, maturation and confidence, and share them with the world. Blue Iceberg Splash Vinyl. Since forming in 2012, the road has taken The Indications from those origins at Indiana University, Bloomington to the global stage, selling out shows across Europe, Japan, Australia, and New Zealand to the West Coast_ where DJI has a strong following among the lowrider and vintage soul enthusiasts. For as far as Durand Jones & The Indications have come, Flowers grew from the desire to return to their roots in a Bloomington basement, a space where they first found camaraderie in gritty funk and Southern soul that would inspire their self-titled debut. Pulling sonically and spiritually from each of the group's previous releases and solo work, Flowers is the next stage of DJI's inspired soulful discography. DJI are not only accepting their flowers, but indulging in their sweet and sexy fragrance.

"Chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams..."

December 25th, 2023 - an Instagram post. Stimulator Jones shared half a dozen FIRE tracks from his beat tape archive. We were immediately drawn to the rough hewn boom bap.

"I'd release that", Rob commented.

Hours of material was shared and the result is this: Cool Green Trees (1999-2005). A collection of beats and loops Stimulator Jones created between the ages of 14-20 at home in his basement, bedroom and computer room in Roanoke, Virginia.

You will not believe the profound soulful genius contained within these naive schoolboy melodies.

December 25th, 1998 - 25 years ago to the day and his much-coveted Yamaha SU10 sampler was finally bestowed upon young Stimmy AKA Sam Lunsford: "I immediately hooked up a CD Walkman to the input jack and looped the beginning two bars of Grover Washington Jr.'s "Mercy Mercy Me". I don't know what exactly was so thrilling about hearing two measures of music repeating over and over but it was so infectious and hypnotizing and enthralling to me. I'll never forget that ecstatic rush of making my first loop - an uncontrollable, gleeful smile plastered all over my face." When you hear the pocket breakbeat symphonies featured here on Cool Green Trees, you'll feel the same sense of frisson.

In the wake of his Stones Throw breakthrough - Exotic Worlds & Master Treasures - Stimulator Jones was pegged by many as a 90s throwback artist. However, he literally IS a 90s artist. He's been recording music most of his life and he's now 40. He created the bulk of Cool Green Trees as a teenager. Everything before 2004 was recorded when Sam was still in school. He was in 8th grade when he made the 1999 tracks - he didn't even have his learner's permit. This album is a snapshot of a young man in a simpler time. Things were still mysterious back then and he was flying blind, relying on his ears and having to figure things out for himself: "I had no road map for becoming a beatmaker. I have been collecting music since I was a kid, I am a lifelong digger and seeker of cool and interesting sounds. I was there in the golden age of Hip Hop, and while I may have been a suburban white kid in Roanoke, Virginia, I was tuned in and I bought so many classic albums when they came out. I was attracted to Hip Hop because of the musical and poetic quality. I was hypnotized by the rhythms, partially because I was a drummer. I didn't brag about collecting my breakbeat records or making beats - it was something I did in isolation. It wasn't something I generally wanted to bring attention to and it didn't really score me any cool points. I certainly wasn't flexing on social media about it."

Hell, he can do that now!

Opener "Pharoah Jones" was inspired by Yesterday's New Quintet and Madlib's ability to capture that classic 70s sound whilst playing all the instruments. Sam created this one stoned afternoon by laying down a 2 bar loop and a shaker loop on his Yamaha SU700 sampler. He hung a microphone from the ceiling and played his Yamaha Stage Custom drum kit over the top before adding ender Rhodes and playing his dad's Selmer tenor sax through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. Yes! Up next, "Ghost Gospel" utilises a dope loop from a gospel record and adds some soul-funk drums overtop, whilst working that filter knob. Says Sam: "The loop reminded me of something Ghostface would rap over. The sample was in 3/4 waltz time but I flipped it for a 4/4 groove, a technique I picked up from RZA. "Ill Feeling" uses sped-up pieces from a dusty old funk record and putting them over a classic NOLA drum loop; gain chopping up a slow, bluesy 3/4 time signature and bending it to a 4/4 groove. Classy shit. "Capital Punishment" features drums tapped in live, inspired by MF Doom's Special Herbs series. "Do Not Adjust" consists loops found on a compilation of 70s French music at Happy's Flea Market, a classic Roanoke digging spot.

The sublime, evocative title track, "Cool Green Trees" was created when Sam was still living at home. He dumped samples off his SU10 into the family desktop and arranged them in a demo version of Pro Tools: "This track was sort of my ode to the DJ Shadow style of sample based production. Super spacey, slow, and moody. The heavily filtered drums were inspired by Alec Empire's 'Low on Ice' album. I later added some scratches and sounds from a Spider Man storybook record." "Chill Scratch" snags the final bit of a bossanova record and pairs it with a drum loop before adding experimental scratching run through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. "Poisonous Fumes" was made using a sampler, mixer and a turntable; a kind of mixtape beat collage with added scratches and sounds from various records. Using dialogue from superhero records was a nod to Madlib. "Welcome Aboard The Starship" is dark, downtempo trip-hop with a spooky bent. Sam paired a slow, hard drum loop with a guitar sample grabbed off a psychedelic rock record. To finish, he added various backwards sounds and weird atmospheric effects and a little scratching. Swoon.

Side B opens with "Keep On Runnin", made on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler. Having always loved the sound of the Lo-Fi filter on those machines, reminiscent of the Emu SP1200, Sam always imagined Del or another of the Hieroglyphics crew rapping over this beat. You can certainly hear why. "Sounds Impossible" sees Sam experimenting with layering multiple kick samples at different volumes to create patterns similar to those heard by Showbiz and Lord Finesse during their God-level 1995 period. "Painted Faces" was made by chopping up a REDACTED record which he had gotten from Happy's Flea Market and paired it with a REDACTED drum loop. By the time Sam recorded "The Knew Style", he had acquired a shitty old 1960s portable turntable off eBay. It didn't function properly when he bought it but his brother opened it up, cleaned it out and got it working: "I remember he told me that there was a bunch of sand inside of it when he opened it up, as if its previous owner had taken it to the beach. I would take that turntable on my Happy's Flea Market digs so I could preview records...that's how I found this loop."

"Chicken Wing Blues Sauce" loops up a classic blues joint and pairs it with some REDACTED drums. A bit of filtering and arranging et voilà! "Kool Breeze", from 1999, is one of Sam's oldest surviving beats, as is "Sexx Bullets". The Roots sampled the same record, leaving Sam frustrated yet vindicated. "Soul Child" was an early SU10 creation, looping a dusty old Soul Children 45 and pairing it with 70s rock drum loops to great effect. "Take Off Runnin" was another loop found digging with a portable turntable. Paired with some boom bap drums it makes for a hypnotic head-nod groove. "Centurian" was intended to be a little beat interlude a la Pete Rock. The sample is from a sun-dappled soft-psych record and it's paired with a Robin Trower drum loop that just happens to fit perfectly. Sometimes you slap things together kind of haphazardly and magic happens. "Bozack" was the first beat Sam made using Pro Tools, his first foray into using chopped sounds instead of loops, an exciting new world. "Church" is beat interlude using a Phil Upchurch loop with the "Long Red" drums - a favourite break of Dilla et al. Sam was really on a tear in late 2004, probably because he was unemployed and phoneless and able to just make beats all day. He made "Splash One" on a borrowed Yamaha SU700 and again was experimenting with tapping the drums in live with his fingers, instead of using a loop or sequenced pattern. Channeling 9th Wonder, Sam used a water splash sound effect from a Batman record as a percussive element, hence the title (also a 13th Floor Elevators reference). The main loop is a backwards portion of one of his favourite Roy Ayers songs.

"Hank" is another fun little beat interlude thing, created on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler with the fantastic Lo-Fi effect that resembled the Emu SP1200 at a fraction of the price. "73 goatee", from 99, is another of his oldest surviving beats, created in his bedroom with his Yamaha SU10 and his brother's Vestax MR-300 4-track recorder: "This one will always feel special. I can remember having a feeling all the way back then on the night that I created it that this was a solid beat with a catchy loop. There was something in the Fender Rhodes melody that resonated with me emotionally, and I had never heard a producer sample that portion before. I felt like I had found my own unique sound, my own unique loop. It came from an Ahmad Jamal '73. I actually even recorded myself rapping and scratching over this beat way back then, I still have that version in all its imperfect sloppy glory."

Sam explains just how much these tracks mean to him: "They all have immense historical and sentimental value and I'm proud of them. These beats come from an innocent, simple time when I was just figuring out how to craft these sounds. They're something very personal to me. They are the initial part of a journey that I really was taking *alone*. There was no YouTube. I couldn't Google shit. I didn't even know any other beatmakers, producers or DJs in my town that could teach me anything. It was always just me, alone, in a room with some equipment - chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams. What I was doing wasn't cool. Most of my peers thought I was a weirdo and couldn't care less. Creating these sounds was an anti-social endeavour. In a sense, I felt like it was me against the world, and all I had to instruct and assist me were the recordings produced by my heroes - RZA, DJ Premier, Erick Sermon, Beatminerz, Showbiz, Diamond D, Beatnuts, Prince Paul, The Bomb Squad, Pete Rock, Q-Tip, E-Swift, Mista Lawnge, DJ Shadow, Cut Chemist, Peanut Butter Wolf, El-P and so many more...I dedicate this collection to them, and to my older brother Joe who has always been a musical and technical guiding light for me.

This was a time before every kid was a self-described producer and beatmaker, before everyone had a DAW, before Kanye and "chipmunk soul", before Red Bull beat battles, before there was any social media beyond chat rooms and AOL Instant Messenger, before Soundcloud, before SP-404 mania, before lo-fi beats to study to, before Splice, before targeted ads for MIDI chord packs, etc. In 99 when I told people that I had a sampler and made beats I was mostly met with bewildered confusion and indifference. Kids and adults alike would wonder why I got this weird machine for Christmas instead of something worthwhile like a Playstation or a mountain bike or even a guitar for that matter because at least that could be used to make "real music". Back then, sampling was still not widely respected as an art form - it was seen as lazy, talentless and unoriginal at best and outright criminal theft at worst. I had gotten respect for playing drums and guitar and things of that nature but this was a step in the wrong direction in the eyes of many."

The cover photo is a picture of Sam standing on his back porch in the latter part of 1998, just before he got his first sampler. He was 13 years old, in 8th grade. His dad took the picture with his 35mm film camera: "I actually wanted to be pointing my dad's .22 pistol at the camera lens but he wouldn't let me. He gave me an old walking cane to use instead. The Tommy Hilfiger puffer jacket came from the lost and found at William Fleming High School where my mom worked as a secretary. I was thrilled when she brought it home because we never spent money on expensive name brand clothing like that - we were for the most part strictly a sale rack, bargain bin, thrift store, yard sale, flea market kind of family when it came to clothes. My watch is some cheap off-brand fake gold department store watch." Mastering for this vinyl edition was overseen by Be With regular Simon Francis and it was cut by the esteemed Cicely Balston at Abbey Road Studios to be pressed in the Netherlands by Record Industry.

2025 Repress

A tale of paramount love for machines and the inextinguishable power of subjugation that lies in these button-studded boxes teeming with cabled bowels that feel so intimidating to the uninitiated, Italo Brutalo's longed-for debut album "Heartware" is a 12-track voyage across 25 years of intense synth collecting, fiddling,
composing and endless loving for audio synthesis and the art of how robots make human bodies jack.
Throughout the twelve cuts that compose "Heartware", a feeling of retro-gazing, candidly playful glee prevails. Looking right in the eye of the era when dazzling flipper visuals and static-filled VHS glitches
reigned supreme, Italo Brutalo invites us to witness first-hand his own textbook smorgasbord of fast-wheeling arpeggios and vocodized hoodoo ("Heartware", "Reach Horizon"), dystopian digital sunsets by the beach ("I Feel Lonely"), early hip-hop-informed whackin' n' thumpin' ("Analog Bars") and the slo but hard churn of a robot heist score ("Nobody Moves").
A lush tapestry of woozy exotic pads set in contrast with a deft and aggro drum programming ("As Above So Below"), followed by a new-beat oriented hammer-drop that shall leave no raver unscathed ("Heat of the Knight"), Italo Brutalo shifts the scope to radical effect whilst maintaining that cohesive headspace flush with the iconic 80s-to-90s-sourced assets. The hardware used in the making of "Heartware" is obviously the star here, and the inner sleeve pays tribute to that: the ideas behind the album have been there waiting to find their way out for over twenty years!
From adrenalin-boosting fractals of keyboard razzle-dazzle ("Chemical Element") to straight out pumping EBM primed for hi-octane mosh pits down the basement ("You Are Welcome"), via polyrhytmic percs-driven assaults and sizzling hot synth-smithery ("Into a Sampler"), the pressure levels never falter. Yet, Italo Brutalo sure knows how to weave further oneiric, softer narratives for your mind to frolic in unhindered ("Dream Machine") and rounds it all off with a total, space-opera'esque epic bound to have you spinning out of orbit into the great unknown ("Eternia").
"Heartware" is released in a neat double-vinyl gatefold package presenting the concept and machines involved in its making, including a twelve-page booklet featuring Italo Brutalo's key pieces of gear.

Exclusive vinyl with the singles released by the Watford post-punk band between 1981 and 1983.

"Before I began to write this piece I listened to some of the tracks and I admit there was a small tear or two as I remembered… Pet Sounds Studios, an 8 track reel to reel studio in a basement under a pet shop in Kennington, South London, our first studio experience as fresh faced 20 year olds. Surrey Sounds, a studio above a milk depot where Siouxsie and The Banshees had recorded singles, we got some studio time through the night when The Professionals (ex Sex Pistols) weren’t recording. Silo Studio in Hammersmith, the engineer was stoned, I smoked at least three packets of cigarettes during the session and having arrived at the studio with a song we believed in, we came out disillusioned and slightly underwhelmed; maybe greatness wasn’t destined to descend upon us at that stage of our career. Spaceward in Cambridgeshire, an old school building turned into a professional recording studio, where we recorded our first album Epic Garden Music over a weekend working through the night with about an hour of sleep. We returned there to record our second album, Feeding The Flame which took two months rather than two days. But my moist eyes are not for the broken dreams, the incredible highs or even the camaraderie with fellow band members, all of whom I may add we are still in touch with. My slight sadness is for my lost youth and the courageous optimism of those early days so viscerally evoked by this collection of songs. The glory of the world fades but in reality Sad Lovers & Giants goes from strength to strength, albeit in a very understated English way mainly because that’s the way we like it. So enjoy these songs which were created with passion and energy over forty years ago but still remain vivid and exciting to a new generation of listeners today." From Garce/Simon Allard's exclusive liner notes (October 2024)

Based in São Paulo and formed in 2017, TaguaTaguais lead by songwriter and producer FelipePuperi. Felipe, having fronted space groove rock band WannabeJalvafor several years, has an extensive indie resume. Having played at Lollapalooza Brazil, supported shows for Pearl Jam and Jack White. He's also been featured on KCRW, NY Times, Stereogum, Brooklyn Vegan and WFUV.

Tagua Tagua's 3rd full length LP and 3rd release on Wonderwheel following 2024's Todo Tempo EP and 2023's Tanto LP

Upcoming tour plans include SXSW and Lollapalooza Brasil in March 2025

Lead singleLado a Ladofeatures James Petralli frontman of the Austin, TX based rock band White Denim

White Denim were founded in 2008 and have shifted through genres like post-punk, soul, garage, and psychedelic rock and have released music on labels such as Bella Union, City Slang, and Downtown

2024 was a big year at radio as Tagua Tagua filmed and recorded a live sessions for NPR's World Cafe (US) and Gilles Peterson's Brownswood Basement on Worldwide FM (UK)

Embarked on a 10 date Brazilian tour in Spring of 2024 playing to capacity crowds each night in 400-500 cap rooms

Recent tour history includes two stints in the US for New Colossus Festival in NYC and SXSW March 2024 and November of 2024 in Miami, New York, and Philadelphia as well as a headline tour throughout Europe in September and October of 2024

Significant press coverage from publications like NPR Alt Latino, Remezcla, FIP, Bandcamp, and Sounds & Colours to name a few

Huge worldwide radio support from stations like KEXP, KCRW, KUTX (US) Inter, FIP, Nova (FR), RinseFM, Soho Radio, Worldwide FM (UK), 3RRR, 2SER, RTR (AU), RTP Antena 3, TSF Rádio Notícias, Rádio Oxigénio (PT) iCat, Radio 3 (ES) RBB Radioeins (DE) and many more

Lunchbox's legendary lost album "Evolver" is lost no more! Sparklingly remastered for the album’s twentieth (and a few!) anniversary and available on CD, cassette and (for the first time) vinyl, this psychedelic masterpiece fills a crucial hole in the band's discography. Recorded in the couple's 1990s Oakland basement between stays in Berlin, tour dates in London, and dreamy sojourns up the rugged Mendocino coastline, "Evolver" fuses jangle and jungle, ambient and dub into a striking pop statement.

Marrying refined songcraft to the serendipitous magic hidden in half-broken reel-to-reel tape decks and vintage synthesizers, the "Evolver" plants its pop flag on the terrain of magic and mystery. Dreamy jangle pop gems emerge seamlessly out of a sea of loops, drones, and dubbed-out horn fanfares, cascades of tape echo feedback and whispers from outer space providing a trance-inducing backdrop to the pop sensibility for which Lunchbox is well-known. Hook-filled and hypnotic, "Evolver" is a sublime slice of post-pop psychedelia that you won't want to miss.

For this special and long-overdue reissue we've raided the bands vaults for three previously unreleased tunes that add extra dimensions to the album's uniquely trippy flow. And for the vinyl heads we're pressing this as a double LP for maximum fidelity and playability, including a vinyl-only fourth side of beats, loops, interludes and puzzling aural ephemera, all taken directly from the original master tapes. Super cool!

Emerging from the suburbs of North London in the early 1990s, Hulusi was an experimental electronic music collective formed by four friends of multi-ethnic origin: Cypriot, Caribbean, Indian and English heritage. Cultivating their musical practice within very specific parameters of time and space, Hulusi instills the essence and spirit of the acid house movement (and its aftermath) that had taken much of England by storm from 1988 onwards. The ‘Dream’ EP was the collective's first release of their self-funded and limited output, offering up a categorically elusive record that could soundtrack the most esoteric and life affirming club moments, whilst simultaneously satisfying the ears and obscure desires of those found dwelling in the heavily occupied ‘chill out’ rooms and nocturnal after parties. As the emerging UK rave scene aligned with newfound accessibility of music production, the late 80s and early 90s became a fertile ground for experimental electronic music, spawning a generation of bedroom and basement producers interacting with and creating music for often the very first time. Like many, Hulusi was a musical project that connected the dots between DIY spirit, technological advancements and the burgeoning cultural phenomenon of acid house. The project operated outside of the then perceived, traditional band conventions, instead developing their sound and exchanging ideas through the format of demo tapes and floppy disks, nurturing their work through individual bedroom studios and feedback sessions. Considered a crucial and possibly defining element of the record, is Hulusi’s unconscious exploration of the groups hybrid cultural identity. Rooted in a shared desire for self-invention, the Dream EPreflects Hulusi's response to a world of rapid musical and technological change. Each track on the record draws inspiration from both Western and Eastern musical frameworks, symbolized through the record’s structure. The ‘Western Side’, featuring "Dream," echoes the ambient techno and acid house influences of early rave culture and bands like 808 State and Orbital. In contrast, the ‘Eastern Side’ of the record is highly decorated with samples, yet stripped back, through its purposeful use of organic sounds, reflecting the group's fascination with blending Western modernism with imagined Eastern themes. Despite operating in near obscurity, Hulusi - The Dream EP acts as an audible catalyst to transport the listener to a different time and place, offering a lucid snapshot into the musical and cultural explorations of the past whilst simultaneously remaining a timeless piece of music.

Danny Ward’s 30-year career has been far from predictable. While best known for the musical eclecticism of his Dubble D project, the dance floor-focused nous of his work as Moodymanc and as a member of the groundbreaking 20:20 Soundsystem, Ward’s bulging CV also includes stints drumming for artists as diverse as Fila Brazillia, Rae & Christian, and The Pharcyde, to Jazz luminaries Mat Halsall and Nat Birchall, alongside countless collaborations (Flora Purim and Nightmares on Wax to name but a couple) and numerous evenings spent adding live percussion to DJ sets at iconic Leeds club night Back To Basics.

Now the long-serving Manchester musician and producer has a new project to share via NuNorthern Soul: Balaphonic. Inspired by a mixture of lockdown-era studio experiments, online collaborations, his long-held love for Afro-Cuban and Afro-Brazilian rhythms and a desire to do things differently, Resolution Revolutions is a gorgeously sonically detailed and immersive album that takes Ward’s musical output to a whole new level.

Like many musicians, Ward used the forced lockdowns of the global COVID-19 pandemic to retreat to his basement studio and make music. Focusing on utilising all of the acoustic and electronic tools at his disposal – not least his beloved percussion instruments – Ward took the opportunity not only to draw on a wide range of musical influences and ideas, but also rhythms, grooves and time signatures. As well as composing new tracks from scratch, he also revisited older compositions with fresh eyes and ears.

The results are simply stunning. Ward sets his stall out via the exotic, slow-burn Balearic warmth of ‘Sunflowers in Dub (Deep Summer Mix)’, where echoing whistles, harmonica motifs, sitar sounds, and cascading piano motifs rise above dub-wise bass and seductive, soft-focus beats. The heady, eyes closed vibe continues on the sunrise-ready awakening of ‘Disorganics (All Strings Mix)’, a samba-soaked summer shuffle rich in sparkling acoustic guitars and infectious Latin percussion, and the fretless bass-sporting Afro-Cuban yearning of ‘Six Fingers’.

As Resolution Revolutions progresses, Ward’s deep love of club-adjacent and dancefloor-focused rhythms subtly comes to the fore. There’s ‘Udders’, a hybrid – and hypnotising – fusion of chopped-up South American percussion, marimba-style melodic motifs, looped bass and spacey electronics, and Ocean Waves Brasil collaboration ‘Oxum’, a mid-tempo Afro-Brazilian deep house number wrapped in deliciously dreamy chords and gentle acid lines.

Similarly impressive and inspired is closing cut ‘Bloco Manco’, where Ward peppers a delay-laden Latin beat and a deep, weighty, dancehall style bassline in waves of echoing hand percussion and restless timbales patterns. Stripped-back, raw and seriously sub-heavy, it provides a jaw-dropping conclusion to one of Ward’s most perfectly formed albums yet.

a A1: Sunflowers In Dub Deep Summer Mix
[b] A2: Disorganics [All Strings Mix]

Mint Green Vinyl. Graham Jonson is drawn to the comforts of melody and noise. How the two conspire in tension, tonally and atonally, stirring up memory and mood. This quality animates the technicolor world of quickly, quickly, the psych-pop project that emanates from Kenton Sound, his basement studio in Portland, Oregon. "Everywhere your eye lands, there's another curio to marvel over," noted Pitchfork's Philip Sherburne when he visited Jonson's recording space for a Rising feature just after the release of his "strikingly original" 2021 debut LP, The Long and Short of It. Since then, Jonson formed a live band, released his Easy Listening EP in 2023, and navigated the up-and-downs of a young musician, the sustainability of tours and relationships. While shaped by personal bouts and fallouts, his highly-anticipated full-length follow-up finds Jonson making music that's universal, open-ended, and rewarding, like great songwriters can do. He set out to make a folk album but couldn't help coloring it in with noise; a confluence of lush instrumentation and unexpected sounds. Ambitious yet intimate, hi-fi yet homespun, the idiosyncratic songs on I Heard That Noise curve around the contours of everyday life with warmth, wit, and dissonance.

Lunchbox's legendary lost album "Evolver" is lost no more! Sparklingly remastered for the album’s twentieth (and a few!) anniversary and available on CD, cassette and (for the first time) vinyl, this psychedelic masterpiece fills a crucial hole in the band's discography. Recorded in the couple's 1990s Oakland basement between stays in Berlin, tour dates in London, and dreamy sojourns up the rugged Mendocino coastline, "Evolver" fuses jangle and jungle, ambient and dub into a striking pop statement.

Marrying refined songcraft to the serendipitous magic hidden in half-broken reel-to-reel tape decks and vintage synthesizers, the "Evolver" plants its pop flag on the terrain of magic and mystery. Dreamy jangle pop gems emerge seamlessly out of a sea of loops, drones, and dubbed-out horn fanfares, cascades of tape echo feedback and whispers from outer space providing a trance-inducing backdrop to the pop sensibility for which Lunchbox is well-known. Hook-filled and hypnotic, "Evolver" is a sublime slice of post-pop psychedelia that you won't want to miss.

For this special and long-overdue reissue we've raided the bands vaults for three previously unreleased tunes that add extra dimensions to the album's uniquely trippy flow. And for the vinyl heads we're pressing this as a double LP for maximum fidelity and playability, including a vinyl-only fourth side of beats, loops, interludes and puzzling aural ephemera, all taken directly from the original master tapes. Super cool!

Flying Vipers record murky dubwise reggae on a Tascam 8-track in their basement bunker. Their love of Jamaican and UK 70's roots and dub is their north star, but eclectic crates of records and a couple decades worth of punk shows bleed through on tape. Twin brothers Marc & John Beaudette on drums and bass telekinetically lock-in with Zack Brines' layers of vintage organs and electric pianos in concise melodic meditations. "With ‘Off World’, their first full-length album featuring vocalist Kellee Webb, the Boston area band uses this foundation to explore the fight or flight of contemporary survival." While largely original compositions, three covers encapsulate the lyrical and musical themes found throughout the LP; an alienation anthem from Northwest punk pioneers Wipers; the theme from the cult classic animated film La Planete Sauvage, featuring the acclaimed jazz harpist Brandee Younger; and quite possibly the first dubwise Sun Ra tribute. Their own singles like "Believers & Deceivers" and "Jackals" confront the grim reality of modern culture, wondering if life in America, and/or Earth, is worth fighting for or leaving behind. Through it all the drum and bass is there, to help you hold your ground and to guide your escape into sonic space.

‘The Return of Pachyman’ is a supernatural force
from a brave new world that’s a little bit San Juan,
a little LA, and a whole lot of Channel One in
Kingston, Jamaica. Designed to be a resurrection
of sound systems from the past through which we
can celebrate a post-Trump future, the record
shows that blasting off into reggae’s deep space
has never gone out of style.
Pachy García (aka Pachyman) is perhaps best
known as the drummer / vocalist for the LA-based
band Prettiest Eyes, a unique pop-noise project
that reflects his other formative interest, synth
punk. He thinks of ‘The Return of Pachyman’ the
same way King Tubby might - an ‘X-ray’ of reggae
music, breaking it down to its bare bones.
Originally a guitarist, he moved to Los Angeles in
the early 2010s and developed his passion for
dub. From there, he started recording bass, drums
and piano and collecting recording equipment in
his basement studio, which he calls 333 House.
With ‘The Return of Pachyman’, García wants to
show how the Caribbean flow is transnational, a
vibe that resounds from Jamaica to San Juan to
Southern California. “With this project, I was
looking to make positive music and radiate good
energy; something to kinda disconnect from the
negative things that were happening at the
moment,” Garcia explains. “I am trying to make this
project a service for humanity in the sense that I
just wanted to shine a positive light.”

On their most explicit venture into music for moving image, Miles Whittaker & Sean Canty rudely fracture piano and vocal recordings by US filmmaker-musician Kristen Pilon in a short-circuiting of style and pattern.

Shredding up definitions of electro-acoustic opera, spectralist chamber musique and concrète rave, Demdike hit square between the eyes/ears of film music vernaculars on a startlingly strong addition to their unique oeuvre, now in its 16th year of elusive psychoacoustic strafes and jump-cuts across putative borders. The 13-part, hour-long album dislodges source material made for the experimental film ‘To Cut and Shoot’, by Kristen Pilon, an NYC-based musician and filmmaker, to farther refract the film’s themes of serendipity and the nature of ghosts and dreams with a flickering flux of sound-imagery and aleatoric weirdness appropriate to her original meditations, but also freely messing with their forms.

Situated just a few miles north of Houston, Cut and Shoot is a relatively insignificant Texas town with an unforgettably bizarre name. Pilon grew up not far from Cut and Shoot, and it's there where she ran into 65-year-old machinist and motorcyclist Robert Lewis Stevenson, better known as Bobbo, who's pictured on the album's cover. The meeting occurred a few months after Pilon recorded her improvisations on piano, strings and voice in the basement cellar of the Halle in Manchester, with Bobbo providing the necessary narrative heft the trio needed to inspire an experimental film and its accompanying soundtrack.

Responding to Kristen’s initial piano and operatic vocal recordings, Demdike return a volley of discrete parts tilting from typically cantankerous mayhem to quieter, more clandestine buzzes sliced with crazed interstices of the imagination, all marbled with the plasmic contrails of the paranormal which have long been peculiar to their work. With a poetic flair reflecting Pilon’s own phrasing and melding of mediums, Demdike unfold and expand her melodic fragments into temporal mazes, variously resembling the most messed-up ends of The Caretaker in ‘A Grave Fall (January)’, but also liable to skew into buckshot club turbulence, as with ‘Belly Up’, or the bittersweet bruk contortions of ‘Twist’.

The storyline wickedly frays and loops into itself with a non-linearity that recalls the mid-to-latter stages of Lynch’s ‘Mulholland Drive’ or waking from a sweaty fever dream only to pitch back into its thorny bush of ghosts, often within the space of one track. It’s testament to the ever-tighter binds of Demdike’s symbiotic vision that the results nevertheless hold a thread of logic that weaves in everything from their Jon Collin jams to reams of mixes and Gruppo edits with an unresolved, open-ended quality that still keeps us on our toes, perhaps more so than ever here.

. The idea for the band was originally conceived by singer-guitarist Joe Woodward whilst writing and recording songs in his kitchen on a 4-track recorder, and over time eventually found help from like-minded friends, Elliot Roberts and Cam Wheeler. The three of them would spend their nights experimenting with cassette recording with the admirable if not challenging aim to recreate the symphonic sounds of Phil Spector on a DIY budget. With growing confidence and having amassed a small catalogue of songs, a few aborted attempts were made to get a live band together before they found help from a second guitarist, Eli Allison, who had recently relocated from Cornwall. As necessity would dictate, the first shows as a quartet made use of a drum machine, but the ideal formation for the band wasn’t truly complete until meeting Nia Abraham, whose live drumming would add a more physical quality to the band’s sound. At the beginning of 2024, they began working more purposefully towards an end goal with the writing and recording of the five-song Nowhere Near Today EP. Though retaining some of their home recording practices, they also made use of a studio facility based in a disused shopping centre basement that was made available through SHIFT, a local artist collective connected to the band. The acquisition of an 8-track Tascam 488MKII, along with the natural reverb of SHIFT’s empty concrete space allowed for further opportunity to experiment with both cassette recording techniques and their still developing live sound, the two environments permitting an all-too-rare creative freedom. The process was transformative for the group, their Spector-inspired ambitions now taking on a more defined shape that skirted around the edges of psych, noise-rock and industrial-pop in a way that increasingly became their own. For a debut EP, the results are impressively realised, a confluence of expansive tremolo guitars, a deliberately primordial rhythm section and a contrasting vulnerable vocal performance that’s both melodic and bracing. It’s a record born both of private experimentation and public performance, who they are on stage and what they express on record informing the other but still distinctly each their own thing, shifting then dovetailing like the waves of feedback that wash through Nowhere Near Today. Still a young band, it’s tomorrow they feel a lot closer to.

On Hardcore, James Mapley-Brittle (GRRL) and Nick Sanborn (Made of Oak), meld their love of late-night club music to make mind-bending high-energy dance music. GRRL is one of the brightest emerging stars in the underground arts space and a regular collaborator with PC Music, NTS, and more; Sanborn is better known as one half of the Grammy-nominated electronic pop duo Sylvan Esso. First sparked during DJ sets in North Carolina basements, the duo's unique creative chemistry has grown exponentially since the 2022 release of their debut EP, Inertia. GRRL x Made of Oak's glitched-out sounds have been featured on Adult Swim, Fortnite, and with their own sample pack on Splice. Finding new fans in the likes of Björk, Arca, AG Cook, Porter Robinson, Barker and DJs across the world, GRRL x Made of Oak is an exhilarating experience that will shake the speakers and get any after-hours dance floor moving.

Record includes 2 page insert and download

Flipping rhythms from Guadeloupe, Cuba, Senegal and Puerto Rico, Time Capsule founder Kay Suzuki releases an acid-soaked collection of remixes that transcends time and space.

From the blacked-out basement of Plastic People to the psychedelic dancefloor of Beauty and the Beat, Kay Suzuki’s musical world has been shaped by some of London’s most iconic sound systems. High quality audio, he says, can open portals to new universes. Rhythm is time made plastic and beauty is the space between the beats.

Spanning over fifteen years of music from the prolific DJ, producer, Time Capsule label boss and one time Brilliant Corners sushi chef, this collection of remixes is the logical conclusion of Kay Suzuki’s musical thinking. Drawn to unique percussive or syncopated rhythms, he describes remixes as conversations between the original artist’s sense of time and his own. Weaving broken beat, house and dub influences into rhythms from across the Black Atlantic, these four tracks find each other kinship on the dance floor.

The A-side begins with a dubbed-out rework of the Gwoka celebration rhythm ‘A Ka Titine’ by Guadeloupe’s Gaoulé Mizik that was originally released by Beauty and the Beat in 2022. Layering electronic flares, dub sirens and space echo reverb across the shuffling toumblak beat, Suzuki leans into the track’s creole heritage, turning the track into a sought-after dancefloor jam, played by everyone from Colleen Cosmo Murphy and John Gomez to Yu-Su and Bradley Zero.

Skipping to Puerto Rico, Broki’s ‘Es Que Lo Es’ emerged from a collaboration between Bugz in the Attic’s Afronaut and Seiji and local musicians. Here Suzuki reworks the Afro-Latin percussion into a subtle bruk, conjuring a third space between London and San Juan that remains both of and outside the era in which it was made.

Blackbush Orchestra’s ‘Sortez, Les Filles!’ opens the B-side, taking apart the original and kneading the Senegalese percussion into a chugging Balearic house track, buoyant and full of life. Also first released by Beauty and the Beat, the track features new synth and structural elements that bring out the innate dancefloor potential beneath the surface of the original.

The final track on the collection heads back to the Caribbean and the island of Cuba, where Sunlightsquare a.k.a. Claudio Passavanti worked with vocalist Rene Alvarez and expert in Afro-Cuban percussion, Giovanni Imparato, on ‘Oyelo’. Here, Suzuki strips out the kick completely, leaving an implied rhythm which he calls an “imaginary four-to-the-floor” - a groove that is felt rather than heard, leaving the listener floating in another universe entirely.

Prairiewolf make easy listening music for an age of fracture. They almost do it in spite of themselves. No one can seriously question the head music bona fides of the members of this Colorado-based trio.

Guitarist Stefan Beck has already assembled a formidable discography of jewel-toned guitar zone-outs under his Golden Brown moniker. And keyboardist and guitarist Jeremy Erwin and bassist Tyler Wilcox have both made their reputations as chroniclers of the vast world of out-music. Erwin helms the indispensable Heat Warps blog, a performance-by-performance archive of Miles Davis’s labyrinthine electric period. And Wilcox has been covering the ragged edges of psychedelia and experimental rock at Aquarium Drunkard and other publications, not to mention his own virtual basement for heads, the great bootleg blog Doom and Gloom from the Tomb.

These guys come by it honestly. And yet, given their backgrounds, Prairiewolf’s self-titled debut last spring was remarkably free of face-melters, brown acid blowouts, and ascendant spiritual jazz odysseys. Instead, they dropped a record of beautiful, elegant, low-key cosmic groovers that sounded like the piped-in background music to a resort hotel on Jupiter. It was an unlikely psychedelia, brocaded with mid-twentieth century sonic threading from the hi-fi era: vintage synthesizers, smears of spaghetti western, luxe tropical details, the faint schmaltz of space age pop. Imagine something like a Harmonia residency in the airport lounge. And yet somehow it all worked brilliantly. Prairiewolf became last summer’s cool-down standard. After a year woodshedding around Colorado’s Front Range region, the Prairiewolf boys have fired up their trusty Korg SR-120 drum machine for another outstanding collection of suborbital exotica. The appropriately titled Deep Time operates in its own chronology, unspooling at its unhurried pace. All its incongruous period and stylistic references—the new age pulses, Hawaiian steel, shaggy hippie rambles, lysergic guitar spirals, and orchestral synthesizer flourishes—float atop the album’s own singular temporality. Deep Time makes its own time.

From the moment Beck folds his slide guitar, origami-like, into a sound resembling the call of gulls on the tranquil album opener, “Peach Blossom Paradise,” there is a sense of departure from everyday life. The shimmering “Lighthouse” has a similar sunbaked nonchalance, like an afternoon passed day-drinking in a seaside bar. That they named their lush, kaleidoscopic downtempo track “The Meander” pretty much says it all. The ranging, propulsive “Saying Yes to Everything” seems like a nod in the direction of Rose City Band’s brand of wookie krautrock. And the motorik noir of “Demon Cicadas in the Night” also goes hard. Beck and Erwin’s intertwined guitar jam on the eerie album standout “The Cold Curve” evolves into something that sounds like primitive computer music. A genteel bassline from Wilcox on another album highlight, “Revisionist Mystery,” sets the stage for a loopy space jazz turn from guest clarinettist Matt Loewen of Rayonism. The title of post-rock cowboy tune “Another Tomorrow” might refer to the alternative future that so many critics heard in the music of Prairiewolf’s first album. Or it might simply refer to the persistence of time, however deep. Either way,

I’m thankful for the way Prairiewolf make each of their tunes a little oasis or sanctuary, each subsisting according to its own crystalline little logic for a few minutes. It is no simple task to filter out the omnipresent anger and anxiety of everyday life these days. But Prairiewolf are out here making it seem easy.

Brent S. Sirota

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Heated Garage is a sonic snapshot of what happened when boundless musical energy and middle American moxie combined to create a cultural phenomenon. The tracks are drawn from a vast archive of Kay Bank master tapes - some are ultra rarities you’d be hard pressed to snatch from the collectors’ market without mortgaging a kidney. Others are alternate versions and outtakes never before released in any form! “The joke was, some bands didn’t become garage bands because it was too damn cold...you can’t go outside when it’s 25 below zero. So, a lot of people are honing their craft in their basements.” High Spirits guitarist Owen Husney explains. Knowing more about them is not only unnecessary, it would mar their mystique. They exist forever in a moment of raw rock ‘n’ roll glory that transcends time, a space shared by their Heated Garage brethren. Looking back on The Pagans’ songs, for example, Kip Sullivan says, “They feel sacred to me.” Recollecting his High Spirits adventures, Owen Husney sighs, “I would go back to those heydays in a minute.” Now he can. And we can all come along.

The 1980 space disco hit you probably never heard of. Now officially remastered including new stunning edits by Peaking Lights and Korkut Elbay. Picture sleeve with an outstanding painting by Antonia Freisburger.

'Inside' with loads of synths and some vocoder on top is a wild jam that is propelling more and more into a frenzy during its course.

Following the orginal is a dancefloor-edit by Korkut Elbay which puts the vocal part into focus. Korkut Elbay, part of the Cómeme camp and an integral part of Cologne's electronic music scene for over 20 years, crafted an edit in its purest form.

On the flipside Aaron Coyes of the California-based duo Peaking Lights stretches out the original and reaches higher grounds with his stomping rework. He gently adds some more keys and puts you into a trance with his soothing melodies. Now dance!

But what's the story behind this unearthed gem stone? In the late 1970s a marketing company owner faced an increasing competitve market and wanted to work indepently from the professional studios which were charging high rates for commercials back then. The solution was to build his own sound studio. So he set one up in the basement of his company in Saarbrücken, Germany. He hired a studio operator and a composer that got quite a reputation in the local scence back then and besides daily job routines 'Inside' was created.

Everything Around You is a co-release presented by K and Perennial.The second LP from Feeling Figures was in fact recorded before their first. Amongst the stuttered starts and stops of the pandemic, a window opened for `The Figs' to commit 11 songs to tape. After gradually preparing new and resurrected material, they gathered in drummer T's basement in the omicron winter of early 2022 to document their strongest songs on his recently acquired reel-to-reel. Compared to `Migration Magic', `Everything Around You' is a considerably deeper dive into the Figs universe, a more deliberate collection that includes compositions which push into the expanse, drawing from a broader palette of art rock influences. The songs on this album navigate tensions between the personal and political, encompassing inner turmoil and deep-seated desires for change at the entangled axis of individual and social transformation. `Everything Around You' is their most fully-realized accomplishment to date; the best recorded representation of their boundless, idiosyncratic approach to guitar-based music. A summation years in the making, years in waiting, finally set free.

Belarusian post-punk / synth pop group Molchat Doma have always exuded the kind of brutalist aesthetic of the architecture that adorns their album art. It's cold, gray, imposing, industrial and yet there are human hearts beating within those foundations. In the wake of their breakthrough success in 2020, the trio endured a polarity of experiences, from the nadir of an uprooted life and forced relocation away from their native Minsk to the apex of headlining massive shows across the world. It was in this headspace that the band settled into their new home of Los Angeles to finish writing their fourth album Belaya Polosa, a testament to change in difficult times, a love letter to the digital pulse of the `90s, and a technicolor reinvention of the band's somber dancefloor anthems. From the opening synth swell and drum machine throb of "Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh' Kto Ya," to the goth / post-punk austerity of "Son", to the swirling electronic textures mixed with reverb-drenched guitar flourishes, expansive space, and yearning vocals of title track "Belaya Polosa" - that suggests Depeche Mode at their most reflective or The Cure at their most downtrodden - to the sultry and seductive "Chernye Cvety"_ a track reminiscent of Duran Duran's early `90s output in its fusion of dreamy guitars and authoritative mechanized beats _ and the interwoven layers of instrumentation, soaring chorus, and melodic sophistication of "Ya Tak Ustal", it's clear that Molchat Doma are operating on another level. Molchat Doma gained following with earlier albums that sound like third-generation bootlegs of banned recordings from the Eastern Bloc made after a few key entries in the Factory Records catalog were smuggled in from the West. Belaya Polosa propels them into a new direction while retaining their cold minimalist delivery they're known for. The basement grime and dirty tape-head sound of their previous work are now making space for digital luster and shimmering production values. And while Molchat Doma's broadened aural spectrum adds a synesthetic power to Belaya Polosa, the mood remains rooted in stark and unflinching self-reflection. Molchat Doma retain the duality of being both cold and feverish in their delivery while pushing their music into expanded territories through an armory of new textures. The trio continue to harness the sound of harrowing beauty thriving under harsh realities.

Belarusian post-punk / synth pop group Molchat Doma have always exuded the kind of brutalist aesthetic of the architecture that adorns their album art. It's cold, gray, imposing, industrial and yet there are human hearts beating within those foundations. In the wake of their breakthrough success in 2020, the trio endured a polarity of experiences, from the nadir of an uprooted life and forced relocation away from their native Minsk to the apex of headlining massive shows across the world. It was in this headspace that the band settled into their new home of Los Angeles to finish writing their fourth album Belaya Polosa, a testament to change in difficult times, a love letter to the digital pulse of the `90s, and a technicolor reinvention of the band's somber dancefloor anthems. From the opening synth swell and drum machine throb of "Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh' Kto Ya," to the goth / post-punk austerity of "Son", to the swirling electronic textures mixed with reverb-drenched guitar flourishes, expansive space, and yearning vocals of title track "Belaya Polosa" - that suggests Depeche Mode at their most reflective or The Cure at their most downtrodden - to the sultry and seductive "Chernye Cvety"_ a track reminiscent of Duran Duran's early `90s output in its fusion of dreamy guitars and authoritative mechanized beats _ and the interwoven layers of instrumentation, soaring chorus, and melodic sophistication of "Ya Tak Ustal", it's clear that Molchat Doma are operating on another level. Molchat Doma gained following with earlier albums that sound like third-generation bootlegs of banned recordings from the Eastern Bloc made after a few key entries in the Factory Records catalog were smuggled in from the West. Belaya Polosa propels them into a new direction while retaining their cold minimalist delivery they're known for. The basement grime and dirty tape-head sound of their previous work are now making space for digital luster and shimmering production values. And while Molchat Doma's broadened aural spectrum adds a synesthetic power to Belaya Polosa, the mood remains rooted in stark and unflinching self-reflection. Molchat Doma retain the duality of being both cold and feverish in their delivery while pushing their music into expanded territories through an armory of new textures. The trio continue to harness the sound of harrowing beauty thriving under harsh realities.

Belarusian post-punk / synth pop group Molchat Doma have always exuded the kind of brutalist aesthetic of the architecture that adorns their album art. It's cold, gray, imposing, industrial and yet there are human hearts beating within those foundations. In the wake of their breakthrough success in 2020, the trio endured a polarity of experiences, from the nadir of an uprooted life and forced relocation away from their native Minsk to the apex of headlining massive shows across the world. It was in this headspace that the band settled into their new home of Los Angeles to finish writing their fourth album Belaya Polosa, a testament to change in difficult times, a love letter to the digital pulse of the `90s, and a technicolor reinvention of the band's somber dancefloor anthems. From the opening synth swell and drum machine throb of "Ty Zhe Ne Znaesh' Kto Ya," to the goth / post-punk austerity of "Son", to the swirling electronic textures mixed with reverb-drenched guitar flourishes, expansive space, and yearning vocals of title track "Belaya Polosa" - that suggests Depeche Mode at their most reflective or The Cure at their most downtrodden - to the sultry and seductive "Chernye Cvety"_ a track reminiscent of Duran Duran's early `90s output in its fusion of dreamy guitars and authoritative mechanized beats _ and the interwoven layers of instrumentation, soaring chorus, and melodic sophistication of "Ya Tak Ustal", it's clear that Molchat Doma are operating on another level. Molchat Doma gained following with earlier albums that sound like third-generation bootlegs of banned recordings from the Eastern Bloc made after a few key entries in the Factory Records catalog were smuggled in from the West. Belaya Polosa propels them into a new direction while retaining their cold minimalist delivery they're known for. The basement grime and dirty tape-head sound of their previous work are now making space for digital luster and shimmering production values. And while Molchat Doma's broadened aural spectrum adds a synesthetic power to Belaya Polosa, the mood remains rooted in stark and unflinching self-reflection. Molchat Doma retain the duality of being both cold and feverish in their delivery while pushing their music into expanded territories through an armory of new textures. The trio continue to harness the sound of harrowing beauty thriving under harsh realities.

Originally released in 1996 as a limited fan-club pressing for Rockathon, Guided By Voices’ Tonics And Twisted Chasers has always existed as an anomaly in Robert Pollard’s vast discography. In many ways, the album serves as the tail of a creative comet that in just two years included the “classic line-up” trilogy of Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, Under the Bushes, Under the Stars and countless singles that crammed endless hooks in their grooves. In the intervening space, Tonics And Twisted Chasers has taken on a mythic status. It’s arguably Pollard’s strangest, gnarliest, most enlightened record and also the fans first chance to see the stitches that bind his galaxy of songs. It’s like peering at the caliber inside a watch, responsible for making the whole enterprise tick. This nineteen-song collaboration with guitarist Tobin Sprout could be interpreted as spontaneous sketches, late-night improvisations, ideas that blossomed later in the timeline (“Knock ’Em Flyin’” and “Key Losers”), but as with anything in Pollard’s orbit, its intention is clear when heard as a cohesive whole. The Pollard tenet that “less is more” is on full display here. The songs rarely creep past ninety seconds and coalesce much like Pollard’s collage-styled visual art. Arena anthems in miniature (“158 Years Of Beautiful Sex”) bash up against eerie piano laments (“Universal Nurse Finger”) without any time to breathe, acoustic lullabies that sound like a Midwestern summer’s twilight (“Look It’s Baseball”) segue into monochromatic post-rock (“Maxwell Jump”). The euphoric joy and obtuse melancholy in Pollard’s voice is so palpable on the album’s standout, “Dayton, Ohio 19 Something & 5” (which has since become a live staple), that it’s impossible to find a more autobiographical yarn in his catalog. The album’s closest analog is 1993’s Vampire On Titus, as it contains that album’s prickly, dark and shimmering obfuscation that only reveals its beauty after repeated listens. Tonics And Twisted Chasers maintains the lore because the melodies are so strong. Using a primitive drum machine, Radio Shack effects, minimal instrumentation and the DIY spirit that guided them in the first place, Pollard and Sprout constructed a masterpiece of pop that could only come from a basement in north Dayton, Ohio. Anyone in that hallowed era who happened upon it, kept it as a secret.

Originally released in 1996 as a limited fan-club pressing for Rockathon, Guided By Voices’ Tonics And Twisted Chasers has always existed as an anomaly in Robert Pollard’s vast discography. In many ways, the album serves as the tail of a creative comet that in just two years included the “classic line-up” trilogy of Bee Thousand, Alien Lanes, Under the Bushes, Under the Stars and countless singles that crammed endless hooks in their grooves. In the intervening space, Tonics And Twisted Chasers has taken on a mythic status. It’s arguably Pollard’s strangest, gnarliest, most enlightened record and also the fans first chance to see the stitches that bind his galaxy of songs. It’s like peering at the caliber inside a watch, responsible for making the whole enterprise tick. This nineteen-song collaboration with guitarist Tobin Sprout could be interpreted as spontaneous sketches, late-night improvisations, ideas that blossomed later in the timeline (“Knock ’Em Flyin’” and “Key Losers”), but as with anything in Pollard’s orbit, its intention is clear when heard as a cohesive whole. The Pollard tenet that “less is more” is on full display here. The songs rarely creep past ninety seconds and coalesce much like Pollard’s collage-styled visual art. Arena anthems in miniature (“158 Years Of Beautiful Sex”) bash up against eerie piano laments (“Universal Nurse Finger”) without any time to breathe, acoustic lullabies that sound like a Midwestern summer’s twilight (“Look It’s Baseball”) segue into monochromatic post-rock (“Maxwell Jump”). The euphoric joy and obtuse melancholy in Pollard’s voice is so palpable on the album’s standout, “Dayton, Ohio 19 Something & 5” (which has since become a live staple), that it’s impossible to find a more autobiographical yarn in his catalog. The album’s closest analog is 1993’s Vampire On Titus, as it contains that album’s prickly, dark and shimmering obfuscation that only reveals its beauty after repeated listens. Tonics And Twisted Chasers maintains the lore because the melodies are so strong. Using a primitive drum machine, Radio Shack effects, minimal instrumentation and the DIY spirit that guided them in the first place, Pollard and Sprout constructed a masterpiece of pop that could only come from a basement in north Dayton, Ohio. Anyone in that hallowed era who happened upon it, kept it as a secret.

To experience Justin R. Cruz Gallego's pulverizing Sub Pop debut is to get burned down to ashes and burst forth, born anew. Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra), the Tacoma-based artist's second album, is driven by opposing forces: noisy abstractions and tightly structured beats, anguish and dissolution at the outside world and empowerment within, apathy and catharsis. Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra) weds scouring electronics to hooky songs and Gallego's powerful drumming in a way that feels visceral and new. It's his most personal statement to date, at once playful and intent, driven and combustible, total fucking chaos mixed into glints of broken-glass beauty. Born in Tucson, Arizona, Gallego experienced culture shock as a child after relocating to the frigid climes of the Pacific Northwest. He found solace in the Seattle punk scene centered around Iron Lung Records and has since remained a fixture in the underground community. "I see this record as first and foremost a musical statement," Gallego says. "I grew up in punk and DIY subcultures, but before that I had Latin music playing in the background through my childhood and every phase of adolescence. It was surprisingly natural to incorporate. I realized I wanted to go deeper into these rhythms. I wanted to make a record that felt as experimental as much as it felt from the perspective of a Latino. When I got a glimmer of that possibility, it felt exciting." Lead single "Dogear" is a face-melting party starter that sounds like someone forced Talking Heads and Rudimentary Peni to share a practice space. "I wanted a song that felt playful in the way it attempted to be dissonant without taking itself too seriously," Gallego says. "Cholla Beat" is even more ambitious, an anthemic mix of WAR and Wire led by unruly synthesizers spiraling down a labyrinth of production. Gallego's influences for the album are vast, ranging from British documentary filmmaker Adam Curtis to electric Miles Davis to audio miscreants like Demdike Stare and Oneohtrix Point Never. But it's Gallego's assured sonic vision that resounds the loudest. And, while J.R.C.G. is a solo project, conceived and executed primarily in Gallego's home studio, he found strength in opening the project to others, starting with Seth Manchester as co-producer. Manchester's penchant for bone-rattling frequencies, as seen in his production work with The Body, Battles, and Mdou Moctar, made him a natural fit for Gallego. Together, they retained the intimacy of Gallego's home recordings while taking advantage of the hi-fi stylings of his Machines With Magnets Studio in Rhode Island. The closing song, "World i," offers a glimpse into the live experience of Grim Iconic...(Sadistic Mantra), with upwards of seven band members blasting off. The album features a fascinating mix of supporting players, many of whom cycle through J.R.C.G.'s live lineup: Morgan Henderson (The Blood Brothers, Fleet Foxes), Jason Clackley (Dreamdecay, The Exquisites), Jon Scheid (Dreamdecay, U Sco), Erica Miller (Casual Hex, Big Bite), Veronica Dye (Terminator) Phil Cleary (U Sco), and Alex Gaziano (Dreamdecay, Kidcrash, Science Amplification). Taken as a whole, G.I.S.M. is a whirlwind of sound, pummeling, and cleansing. It's a sweaty, thrilling aural adventure and, like a great basement show, it'll leave you breathless, exhausted, and wanting to repeat it all over again. As any good mantra should.