Search:beam me up

The brand- new album from Hiss Golden Messenger and the first release with Chrysalis Records. I'm People is a vivid, deeply human album born from a period of rupture, renewal, and vast American wandering. Written across Bolinas, the North Carolina Piedmont, and a Santa Fe motel room, the record traces the artist's search for clarity through landscapes both external and internal. These songs move through heartbreak, aging, fatherhood, desire, disillusionment, and the hard- won hope that remains after the spirit has been scraped bare.

Produced with Josh Kaufman at Dreamland, a decommissioned church outside Woodstock, the album carries the warmth of musicians playing live in a circle, stained- glass light filtering across guitars, drums, and upright bass. Contributions from Bruce Hornsby, Sam Beam, Marcus King, Sara Watkins, Amy Helm, Eric D. Johnson, and members of Dawes enrich a sound world that feels immediate, vulnerable, and fully alive. "I'm People is an intensely human record, and so one that needed to feel immediate, vulnerable, and fully dancing; something you could touch, sing along to, know about, recognize, relate with. I know what the record is to me and I bet it's not so dissimilar from what it's about to you, at least in the broad strokes: The heartbreak and exhilaration, the absolute black comedy of being a person on this razor's edge that is America circa 2025. What other choice do we have than to be hopeful?" - MC Taylor on I'm People. Hiss Golden Messenger is a Grammy nominated artist based in North Carolina, with multiple Album Of The Year and Best Americana Album awards, reaching #2 in the Americana Charts and performances and tours across the world, including the UK and Europe + performances on US TV; Late Night With Seth Myers.

Fog On Mirror Glass introduces a new aesthetic amongst Donald Beaman albums. After four albums of varied full-band arrangements, this album emerged as an idea to present solo performances in conversation with full-band work. The bulk of the songs were recorded in the same place they were written: Beaman’s living room. Long time bandmate and producer Kirt Lind set up a makeshift studio at Beaman’s house to record the guitar parts in the same room where they were written, using the same guitars on which they were first played.

Unfurling with a measured pace, the resulting album combines elegiac lyrics with elemental arrangements played with an almost jazz-like reverential expressiveness, calling to mind the works of Cass McCombs, Will Oldham, and Jake Xerxes Fussell. Album opener “Glass Bottom Boat” sets the tone for the album with just Beaman and his guitar – written during the final months of a decade-long stay in New York City, the song was finished upon his arrival back in California. Meanwhile the title track, long a staple in live sets, lands near the middle of the album to recalibrate the mood, featuring the ghostly guitar work of longtime collaborator Ken Lovgren. “Old Universe” lifts things up a bit, propelled by the brushwork of drummer Michael Nalin and the jaunty bass playing of Kirt Lind. Finally, the album ends much the way it began, with Beaman and his guitar on album closer “Bamboo”.

“The dictionary definition of less is more.” - ---- Mojo
“His ability to carve universal empathy from mundane domesticity is remarkable.” - ---- RNR Magazine
“...a collection of evocative scenes and vivid emotions sung to sparse musical arrangements in Beaman’s distinctive sonorous tones” - Americana UK
“...pure and simmering, like a tattoo dedicated to a long lost friend, slightly fading from years in the sun, a memory that will always bring a tear in those quiet reflective moments.” - Psychedelic Baby Magazine

Bristol experimental band SUGAR HORSE are delighted to announce that their third album, Not A Sound In Heaven, will be released on 10th April 2026 via Fat Dracula Records.

To celebrate the news, the band are sharing the bruising lead single ‘Secret Speech’, available to stream on all good digital service providers from 12th February 2026.

Also announced today are a run of April 2026 UK album headline tour dates and an appearance at StrangeForms Festival 2026, with tickets on sale now (see below for full listings).

“We are fortunate enough to live in what is generally known as ‘The West’,” says front man Ash Tubb of the lyrical themes behind the new track. “I say fortunate with gritted teeth, because I know—as I’m sure the reader knows—that living in the West isn’t always rosy. The vast majority of people struggle everyday to feed, clothe and house themselves. Let alone receive adequate healthcare, schooling and workers’ rights.”

“We are, however, where all the world’s wealth is hoarded. We are at the centre of Empire. The people outside of this empire—those of the Global South—have had their resources extracted and their populations exploited by our own governments, with very little given back in return. This won’t go on forever. It will inevitably end, as all great empires do.”

“We in The West have a choice to make in the meantime; either help create a new, fairer world, or let the greed of our ruling classes become the undoing of all of us.”

The first glimpse of new material from the quartet, ‘Secret Speech’ starts as Not A Sound In Heaven means to go on—a politically-charged wrecking ball of a song that smashes its way through the often unbelievable chaos and brutality of the 21st century with vitriolic malice.

How do you capture the machinations of the geo-political industrial war machine—and all the horrors that go with it—in the studio, without seeming trite or crass? That’s the question that Sugar Horse have posed themselves on their forthcoming third album Not A Sound In Heaven, and they must surely be one of the only bands in existence capable of delivering on just that premise with both musical substance and cutting philosophical insight.

“Ever since I was born I can remember visions of war, famine, and death being beamed directly into my living room via the magic of television,” says Tubb of the record. “These visions were accompanied by newsreader narratives designed to either humanise or dehumanise the people involved. We humanise our government’s allies and dehumanise their enemies. This is taken as common sense, or even wisdom to some degree. People watch the news and accept it as fact, simple and true.”

“As a person gets older they move in one of three different directions with this acceptance of reality; They embrace what they’re being told, they fall into a kind of trust free nihilism or they learn that there are deeper narratives at play.”

“Not A Sound In Heaven is an aged acceptance of the latter. An acceptance of sitting at the centre of a global empire of both military and economic dimensions. An acceptance that the stories we’re told as a nation, or what’s generally in the zeitgeist, isn’t necessarily reality itself.”

“How does a person cope with the weight—and, frankly, the guilt—of a society that perpetuates such distinct inequalities? A society that thinks a bit of killing abroad is fine, as long as it improves the lives of people at home. You can see why so many choose to embrace it. Hell, nihilism seems pretty sensible. Once a person decides upon pursuing a degree of truth however, things get a bit depressing. Beyond depressing...maddening.”

“This album explores this kind of breezy, frivolous subject matter in a manner that will no doubt be uplifting to the listener and massively financially rewarding for the artist.”

The new album follows on from their standalone AA single ‘What’s Your ETA? Let’s Have A Tear Up’/‘Would You Like Me To Be The Cat?’ which was released late last year as a surprise double drop.

There’s an alternate reality where everyone makes a living wage and the cleanest buses you’ve ever seen arrive every other minute. Where the most intense songs are about confessing your love to a crush at the apple orchard, and where gentle feelings and chaotic energy are inseparable best friends. This is the timeline where Cootie Catcher is right at home. This Toronto based four-piece exudes both vulnerability and unbridled excitement, creating a sound that hypercharges the open-hearted tenderness of twee pop with spiraling synths and giddy electronics. New album Something We All Got is the clearest and most vibrant reading of Cootie Catcher’s vision yet, with songs of sweetness, nervousness, and expectancy that beam out unguarded.
After releasing music made primarily in basement recording environments, Something We All Got is the band’s first flirtation with studio recording. The edges are still sharp, however, with some parts assembled from time-honored lo-fi methods and fun, personally-sourced samples seeping into the production. The sound is explosive and upbeat, with euphoric guitars, bubbly synth lines, speedy drums both played and programmed, and all other manner of sound constantly colliding. Cootie Catcher has three songwriters, Sophia Chavez, Anita Fowl, and Nolan Jakupovski, all of whom have distinctive voices but still manage to overlap in their writing on shared concerns like navigating the lines of romantic and platonic relationships, their city’s social scenes, and struggles in both the microcosmic experience of playing in a band and the zoomed-out challenges of living through late-stage capitalism.
Joy still touches every surface of Something We All Got. “Quarter Note Rock” bounces around the room in a fit of jangling guitar chords, scratched samples, and interplay between breakbeat loops and somersaulting live drums. It’s a blast of positivity even with lyrics about how disappointing it can be to meet your heroes. A smiling electro pop instrumental supports lyrics about having to step painfully away from an almost realized love on “Gingham Dress,” a song that subverts themes of domesticity as a backdrop for the dashed wilt of hopeless devotion.
Cootie Catcher rolls down hills and jumps through flaming hoops throughout Something We All Got without ever dumbing down the visceral emotions that drive these songs. There’s a palpable tension between the band’s exhilarating sonics and the raw, often uneasy sentiments expressed, but it’s an integral part of what makes them unique. Rather than hide behind the kind of calculated vagueness that plagues so much of the indie rock landscape in the time of cursed algorithms, Cootie Catcher runs full-speed toward every confusion and excitement, fearlessly direct and embracing the reality they’re in.

The first resonant space Zosha Warpeha played in was the Emanuel Vigeland Museum in Oslo, Norway. Built as a mausoleum, its walls reach up into a gradual archway, creating an environment where sound expands and reverberates for twelve seconds before decaying into silence. Warpeha was greeted only by dim lights when she entered, and it wasn’t until she had spent several minutes listening that she was able to make out the frescoes that covered every inch of the room: graphic depictions of the cycle of life from conception through death. As the sound of her Hardanger d’amore encountered the walls and these slowly emerging scenes, they obscured its point of origin in both time and space, augmenting its own life cycle. The experience sat in the back of her mind over the next several years as she developed her own patient style of composition and performance, one that comes into full bloom on her new album I grow accustomed to the dark.

When Warpeha was selected as an artist in residence at Brooklyn’s ISSUE Project Room in 2025, she saw it as an opportunity to more intentionally explore how her music might fill a room with ample natural reverb. I grow accustomed to the dark documents two single-take solo performances for Hardanger d’amore and voice at IPR, with both pieces composed in a unique tuning system developed to interact with the space itself. Listeners can trace resonance from the contact of the bow on gut strings into the body of the instrument, its five sympathetic strings offering another layer of refraction, before the sound is thrown about the cavity of the room. The echoes emerge like a photographic double exposure, or wisps of smoke that linger in the air, creating ghostly harmonic convergences that blur the line between what is there and not-there. Sound begins to act like light, a synesthetic alchemy that transforms drones into beams and ornamental trills into flickers.

Both side-long compositions, “filament” and “visual purple,” exemplify a duality that animates Warpeha’s music: an expressive, individualistic style that draws on extensive knowledge of her instrument’s history in folk traditions, and an austere, devotional quality maintained by focus and precision. Though very different in character and structure, both pieces evolve slowly through numerous repetitive phrases, passages of stillness, and bursts of intensity. “filament” opens with a cycle of delicate melodic fragments played and sung around a drone before blossoming into an outpouring of swooping arpeggios, harmonics flying from the strings like sparks off a bonfire. The disorienting pulsation of harmonic beating forms the core of “visual purple,” the close-tone dissonance building to a swarm of open strings ringing boldly throughout the space. After the knotty tones reach their climax, the piece collapses into studied quietude, hushed, but without any drop in intensity.

When Warpeha first visited the Vigeland Museum in 2019, she was in Oslo to deepen her relationship to the Hardanger fiddle through the study of Norwegian traditional music, which is primarily passed down aurally. The experience of learning songs by ear, not only internalizing the tune but also absorbing the techniques and tonalities by listening, was a crucial step in her development as a composer. The years since have seen her sharpen those skills as a prolific member of the New York avant-garde and improvised music communities. Warpeha’s music encourages listeners to join her in this journey, to listen closely with each repeated phrase and through each dramatic shift. Like the frescoes on Vigeland’s walls, with time and intention, the depth of I grow accustomed to the dark comes on like a revelation.

Die Indie-Folk-Ikone Sam Beam, auch bekannt als Iron And Wine, bringt ein neues Studioalbum raus, das voll mit wunderschöner, natürlicher Americana ist, darunter zwei Kollaborationen mit dem weiblichen Folk-Trio I'm With Her. „Ich wollte schon immer diesen Titel verwenden", sagt Sam Beam über „Hen's Teeth“, sein achtes Album in voller Länge und sein sechstes für Sub Pop Records. „Ich liebe ihn einfach. Für mich steht er für das Unmögliche. Hühnerzähne gibt's nicht. Und genau so fühlt sich dieses Album an: wie ein Geschenk, das es eigentlich nicht geben dürfte, aber doch da ist. Eine unmögliche Sache, aber sie ist real."



„Hen's Teeth“ und sein vorheriges Album „Light Verse“ sind so was wie Geschwister. Sie wurden während derselben Sessions nach einer einjährigen Pause mit derselben Band im Waystation Studio in Laurel Canyon aufgenommen. „Wenn ich gerade richtig in Schreiblaune bin und die Band mich dort abholt, wo ich gerade stehe, treiben sie mich zu etwas, das ich mir nicht hätte vorstellen können. Ich bin an einem Punkt in meinem Leben, an dem Spontaneität für mich viel wichtiger ist. Ich muss nicht mehr so viel beweisen wie früher. Ich bin viel freier und liebe es mehr denn je, Musik zu machen. Es gibt keine richtigen oder falschen Antworten. Man betet einfach um Glück und gibt sein Bestes." In diesem Fall wurden die Gebete erhört und das Glück schlug voll zu. Die Musiker fanden so schnell zueinander und inspirierten sich gegenseitig so sehr, dass sie Songs oft in nur wenigen Takes aufnahmen, manchmal zwei oder drei pro Tag. Die beiden Alben können daher als zweieiige Zwillinge betrachtet werden: Sie teilen sich die DNA und ergänzen sich, haben aber unterschiedliche Identitäten und zeichnen sich ebenso durch ihre Unterschiede wie durch ihre Gemeinsamkeiten aus. Die Welt von „Hen's Teeth“ ist erdiger, dunkler, robuster und greifbarer als die von „Light Verse“. Die Songs haben Titel wie “Roses", “Robin's Egg", “Dates and Dead People" und “Singing Saw". “Run into the one you love forever / Laugh into each other's empty mouth", singt Beam in “Roses", dem ersten Titel des Albums. Es ist einer von mehreren Songs, in denen Liebende so tief miteinander verbunden sind, dass sie physisch verschmelzen. “Paper and Stone" erinnert daran: “But for the time we fell in two / You'd be me and I'd be you / One crust of bread could fit in our mouths / You'd breathe in and I'd let it out." Und in “In Your Ocean" finden wir Beam betend: “Praying for dry ground / Though I only want to drown / When I find myself swimming in your ocean".

There’s an alternate reality where everyone makes a living wage and the cleanest buses you’ve ever seen arrive every other minute. Where the most intense songs are about confessing your love to a crush at the apple orchard, and where gentle feelings and chaotic energy are inseparable best friends. This is the timeline where Cootie Catcher is right at home. This Toronto based four-piece exudes both vulnerability and unbridled excitement, creating a sound that hypercharges the open-hearted tenderness of twee pop with spiraling synths and giddy electronics. New album Something We All Got is the clearest and most vibrant reading of Cootie Catcher’s vision yet, with songs of sweetness, nervousness, and expectancy that beam out unguarded.
After releasing music made primarily in basement recording environments, Something We All Got is the band’s first flirtation with studio recording. The edges are still sharp, however, with some parts assembled from time-honored lo-fi methods and fun, personally-sourced samples seeping into the production. The sound is explosive and upbeat, with euphoric guitars, bubbly synth lines, speedy drums both played and programmed, and all other manner of sound constantly colliding. Cootie Catcher has three songwriters, Sophia Chavez, Anita Fowl, and Nolan Jakupovski, all of whom have distinctive voices but still manage to overlap in their writing on shared concerns like navigating the lines of romantic and platonic relationships, their city’s social scenes, and struggles in both the microcosmic experience of playing in a band and the zoomed-out challenges of living through late-stage capitalism.
Joy still touches every surface of Something We All Got. “Quarter Note Rock” bounces around the room in a fit of jangling guitar chords, scratched samples, and interplay between breakbeat loops and somersaulting live drums. It’s a blast of positivity even with lyrics about how disappointing it can be to meet your heroes. A smiling electro pop instrumental supports lyrics about having to step painfully away from an almost realized love on “Gingham Dress,” a song that subverts themes of domesticity as a backdrop for the dashed wilt of hopeless devotion.
Cootie Catcher rolls down hills and jumps through flaming hoops throughout Something We All Got without ever dumbing down the visceral emotions that drive these songs. There’s a palpable tension between the band’s exhilarating sonics and the raw, often uneasy sentiments expressed, but it’s an integral part of what makes them unique. Rather than hide behind the kind of calculated vagueness that plagues so much of the indie rock landscape in the time of cursed algorithms, Cootie Catcher runs full-speed toward every confusion and excitement, fearlessly direct and embracing the reality they’re in.

For our ninth offering we have ventured out of our small but fertile swamp in search of another source of magick. Meandering across boggy pastures new, we crossed paths with Steevio, who sat hovering serenely in the fern covered shade of a nearby valley. Instantly recognising the singular vision of this fabled artist, we hastily gathered our nets and cast them under Steevio’s branches, capturing four beautiful offerings as they wriggled towards us. Upon the return to our mulch, it became clear that we could not contain Steevio’s creations, so willful was their vitality. It was therefore all we could do to release them back to the universal dance from whence they came.

The dance germinates with the writhing polyrhythmic ‘Apricity’. Hearing the crunch of frost laden grass beneath our webbed toes, we look above us to search for the sun. Angular beams of light escape over the horizon, as the warmth of Steevio’s machines coalesce. A glistening hi hat breaks through the membrane to bind his creation and anchor its ever shifting arms.

‘Octopus’ glides gracefully through a sun-dappled kelp forest. Sub frequencies rumble up from the shadowy darkness below, rippling along the fronds as they ascend. As the ocean begins to churn, a wriggling melodic tentacle parts the foliage, gleaming with primordial energy. Its joyful visit to the surface realm leaves us with a brief yet powerful reminder of the mystery beneath.

The glow of the midwinter sun warms our bones on ‘Apricity (Sunrise Mix)’. Percussive elements bubble out of the depths, forming intricate cascading patterns as they grow over the perfectly formed kicks. The moog filter tames the brew with Steevio’s intuitive restraint , until he releases its mighty power upon the gleeful forest dwellers, to their rapturous gratitude.

With ‘Adref’ we return home. The sedate tempo provides oceanic space for a melody which inhales and exhales over a familiar landscape of perfectly tuned percussion. With each breath the melody seems to increase its reach, until it’s buried deep within our bones, its memory resonating on long after it’s gone.

Steevio’s music reflects the universal moments where seemingly chaotic and disparate elements are suddenly revealed to be perfectly harmonious. Of course examples of this are always universally present in nature, and have been eternally, but we have to be reminded to appreciate them. In the same way that a wave deposits a perfect line of shells on a beach, dew freezes on grass, or individual strands of mycelial hyphae bind together to form incredible patterns, Steevio’s music is likewise; effortlessly considered. For us, it has more in common with the unrelenting flow of a river than it does with dance music. It is psychedelic music in the same sense that nature is intuitively psychedelic; without ever leaning into any tried tropes of what is culturally considered ‘psychedelic’ music.

"Straight up, no one is having more fun than me when we"re up there!" beams DRAIN frontman Sammy Ciaramitaro, whose face is perpetually glued in a grin. For anyone that"s seen the Santa Cruz hardcore firebrands live, there"s no mistaking that fact. DRAIN isn"t just a good time as Sammy presides over the chaos of stage diving bodies and mic-grabbing frontline; it"s a party-and everyone is invited. (Dolphin shorts and boogie boards are optional but encouraged.) "The vibe of it is, enthusiastic, hectic," says the vocalist. "Five people deep singing and stagediving, then kids going berserk behind that. It"s a great vibe and I think people pick up on that." That, in a nutshell is DRAIN. The trio inject a serious dose of relatability-not to mention catchiness-into hardcore"s penchant for toughness and brutality on their new Epitaph album, ...IS YOUR FRIEND. Ciaramitaro"s desperate, snotty howl rides roughshod over thrash-leaning riffage as rhythms bounce in a big way. If you"re picturing the Pacific Ocean waves that rise and fall along the coastal town, occasionally violently so, you"re not far off.

"Straight up, no one is having more fun than me when we"re up there!" beams DRAIN frontman Sammy Ciaramitaro, whose face is perpetually glued in a grin. For anyone that"s seen the Santa Cruz hardcore firebrands live, there"s no mistaking that fact. DRAIN isn"t just a good time as Sammy presides over the chaos of stage diving bodies and mic-grabbing frontline; it"s a party-and everyone is invited. (Dolphin shorts and boogie boards are optional but encouraged.) "The vibe of it is, enthusiastic, hectic," says the vocalist. "Five people deep singing and stagediving, then kids going berserk behind that. It"s a great vibe and I think people pick up on that." That, in a nutshell is DRAIN. The trio inject a serious dose of relatability-not to mention catchiness-into hardcore"s penchant for toughness and brutality on their new Epitaph album, ...IS YOUR FRIEND. Ciaramitaro"s desperate, snotty howl rides roughshod over thrash-leaning riffage as rhythms bounce in a big way. If you"re picturing the Pacific Ocean waves that rise and fall along the coastal town, occasionally violently so, you"re not far off.

Irish artist The Cyclist (Andrew Morrison) delivers a four-cut dispatch of throbbing house rhythmics and afterhours glow inspired by a trip to Chicago in the summer of 2023. “Mescalate” slides through the door with an uptempo house roller, piston hats and soft-clipped stabs. Title track “Sublimity” slides into a hard-edged garage-house sway with mantra-esque vocals whirling over rolling bass. “Beamin” turns the lights up bright, synthy chords arcing like sun through the fog. Closer “Black Velvet” dials it down into a dubby, deep, bass-heavy stout drift that lingers in the chest long after the needle lifts.

Originally released on Mon 22 August 2005, the Furries’ third and final album to be recorded by Epic Records, Love Kraft is to be reissued on double vinyl, 2CDs, including the 22-track bonus CD, Kiss Me With Apocalypse and digital formats on Fri 24 October 2025 via the Cardiff-based independent label, Strangetown Records. Four previously unheard tracks are drawn from the vaults, including the squidgy ELO-stomp of drummer, Daf Ieuan-led Rock ‘N’ Roll Flu, plus the distorted space-jam of Cae Marw, the band’s deep-bass sketch of Palo Alto and ghostly, percussive morsel of Bedw Arian.

The album followed six previous albums by the band, including their statement debut album, Fuzzy Logic in 1996, melding an attention-demanding mix of literary, narcotic and musical influences. Maintaining a shape that was ill-fitting in the jigsaw of other 90’s guitar bands, their follow-up, UK Top Ten album, Radiator brought the hooky squelch of the bona fide indie dancefloor classic, The International Language of Screaming. The next decade saw the release of the first Top 20-charting, Welsh language album, Mwng (2000), followed by further experimentation and commercial success with Rings Around The World (2001) and Phantom Power (2003).

Love Kraft’s sense of cohesion, collaboration and free-flow of rich harmony has been credited to the five-piece escaping Wales to record in the shimmering heat of Figueres, Catalunya. Bringing famed Beastie Boys producer, Mario Caldato Jr along with them for the ride, the travelling band’s stay in the Catalonian hometown of Salvador Dali included found sounds, boozy petrol stations, gastronomic revelations and, finally, a rich album of strings, synths and opulent vocal harmonies.

While eventually finding their way to Baha, near to Rio di Janeiro to mix the album Love Kraft’s story began in Wales and Pleasure Foxxx Studios, where the band began to craft the album’s songs. Embracing the landmark of a seventh album, notably coming after the 2004 release of their first ‘best of…’ package, Songbook: The Singles, Vol. 1, Super Furry Animals pooled ideas and affected further democracy in their songwriting, taking a load off traditional lead-writer and front man, Gruff Rhys, and sharing in lead vocal duties (aside from the microphone-averse bassist, Guto Pryce).

Love Kraft was the first Super Furry Animals album recorded to hard disc instead of multi-track tape, and found the band typically explorative and open to happenstance. Zoom’s opening splash into the recording studio’s swimming pool is accompanied by the on-location, pool table samples found elsewhere on the album.

Updated packaging features the original, meticulously built diorama design by long-time collaborator Pete Fowler. Constructed by hand in his studio, complete with bulb-lit illumination, then photographed, the sleeve’s depiction of a monolith-rich desert landscape reflects the sense of other space and time depicted by Love Kraft’s woozy songs. The final sleeve design again comes courtesy of Mark James.

Hot Piroski Boss Robin 12Tree Beams Back with “Interstellar Vibes Vol. 1” A Balearic Odyssey in 5 Tracks.. Strap in and sunscreen up - Robin 12Tree is back with Interstellar Vibes Vol. 1, a scorching 5-track EP of cosmic Nu Disco and Balearic goodness inspired by strobe lights, sunsets and surfside odysseys. Opening blast The Wriggler is a peaktime disco/house rocket, all teasing arps and synth liftoffs. Feelin Free glides into deeper territory, with lush strings giving nods to deep house royalty. Then comes Who Will Heal Us, a slo-mo sunset serenade featuring new Barcelona rising soul queen, MaYa. Things get extra-terrestrial with Need You In My Life, a deep-house jam born from a Barcelona afters with Soul Mekanik’s Danny Mekanik. Finally, Tupambame brings us gently back to Earth, dripping sunshine and jazzy warmth thanks to Tanzanian vocalist Miss Vivandra. Robin 12Tree launched Hot Piroski from his Barcelona bunker in 2018, scoring early BBC Radio 1 love with his N’Gwode edit. His studio passport is stamped by the likes of Jose Padilla, Stanton Warriors, Visage, Keith Flint and more. Whether as one half of Bubble Club, founder of The Backstage Sluts, or Slyde co-pilot, he’s brought Balearic vibes to Fabric, Bugged Out!, and far-flung festivals from Australia to South America - often as The Prodigy’s tour DJ. Check out this latest release from the man with disco in his blood and chorizo in his lunchbox… Interstellar Vibes Vol. 1 will be released in digital stores from July 14th with vinyl availability from July 30th.

JayWood - the nom de plume of Jeremy Haywood-Smith - is embracing new pastures having moved his music-making from Winnipeg, Manitoba to Montreal, and his new album Leo Negro chimes with a different tone as it looks to reconnect the self and grapple with one's identity. Marking a moment of meaningful change where controlled chaos takes the lead, it philosophises on what it truly means to be an experimentalist building a multi-faceted world where genre is infinite through sounds braver, more playful, and truthful than he's dared deliver before. Despite its astute sampling with layers of twists and turns, Leo Negro doesn't showboat but roars in the presence of vulnerability as it considers one's absolutes as a way of navigating the identity crisis. "Always looking for attention, I admit it, I can't help it, I'm a Leo," he reasons between vintage hip-hop scrubs on `Pistachios,' recalling a childhood need to be the centre of attention then stepping out of the spotlight as a grown-up. "Leos are confident and sure about themselves, but this record isn't that; so really, when translated, the title inspires `black confidence.' It's an uncomfortable, weird, and surreal term which bends the truth and embodies everything within." Experimenting in both life and music, Leo Negro and its first cut, `Big Tings' (feat. California, art-pop duo Tune-Yards) couldn't be further from 2023's Grow On EP and the previous year's slick LP Slingshot. Moving with flow akin to D'Angelo with Toro Y Moi textures, its twinkling intro of whirling synth and playful approach circles back to Jeremy's adolescence when he'd reverse, slow down, and speed up his favourite songs through the media player on his computer. Encouraged by his musical squad Will Grierson, Arthur Antony, Brett Ticzon, and enlisting his stylist and thrifter friends to capture the Leo Negro aesthetic, JayWood's big `in' for 2025 is collaboration, with the tight-knit crew of likeminded musical colleagues captured in session photo grins beaming from his Instagram grid. Nominated for Canada's coveted Polaris Music Prize, it'd be easy to be the cowardly lion; to rinse and repeat what's worked up to this point. But for JayWood, leaning into his natural `what if?' curiosity to make up his own rules as he goes along ("I never really knew what they were to begin with") and venture into honesty's unsafe space to seek comfort, confidence and make even greater connections, really is the only option. After all, he can't help it; he's a Leo.

Emil Friis’ neues Album Moving Images, seine erste Soloveröffentlichung für das Klassik-Imprint 130701 des Labels FatCat, ist ein Zeugnis der menschlichen Verfassung und der Dinge, die uns als Spezies zusammenbringen. Es ist inspiriert von den Bewegungen des menschlichen Geistes und den Geschichten, die wir durch Musik, Worte, Kunst und Film teilen.

Das Album umfasst ein breites Spektrum an Instrumenten und Emotionen: düstere Kammermusikstücke wie „For Goodbyes“, bedrohliche, aber hoffnungsvoll hypnotische Ambient-Stücke wie „Zero“, sanfte Solo-Piano-Stücke wie „Dancing“, poetische und verspielte Flöten- und Synthesizer-Stücke wie „Through Air“ und spannungsgeladene, filmische Streicher-, Synthesizer- und Klavierstücke wie „An Upward Motion“.

„Moving Images“ ist auch ein gemeinsames Projekt zwischen Friis und ausgewählten Filmemachern. Jeder der 15 Albumtracks wird von einer Videoarbeit begleitet. Die Filmemacher Kevin Brooks, Shaun Hart, Morgan Jon Fox und Jonathan Meyers hatten kreative Freiheit, die Stücke zu interpretieren, die ihnen am meisten zusagten.

Das aus nur wenigen Elementen bestehende Arrangement sorgt für ein enges Zusammenspiel aus Instrumenten und Emotionen sowie der Tiefe der Texturen. Die Originalkompositionen werden auf Synthesizern, Streichern, Holzbläsern und Klavier dargeboten. Mit Beiträgen von Künstlern wie dem renommierten Streicher Davide Rossi werden sie in cineastische, moderne klassische Werke verwandelt. Die Stücke sind so voller Helligkeit, Sensibilität, Spannung und düsterer Schönheit, dass es oft den Anschein hat, als würden die Instrumente miteinander sprechen. Die Phrasen wirken manchmal einsam. An anderer Stelle schweben und fliegen sie. Trotz ihrer Kürze sind die Resultate von Wärme und Inbrunst erfüllt.

LP comes with 24 page 8.5x11 full color booklet. In the blurred and memorial hallways of bygone time, to remember is to wander between the rooms of our own experiences, to appear and disappear, like a play of overlapping shadows. In music set drifting through the architecture of his own memories, Moses Brown weaves a story that oscillates between the past and the present, like a mason turning over stones to reconstruct his childhood home in this beautiful and disquieting soundtrack to growing up. On Stone Upon Stone, Moses' first solo LP attributed to his given name after several releases under the brilliant and despondent "Peace de Resistance" moniker, he moves sidelong into the realm of soundtracks with this score to the construction of his childhood home in a story spanning 1993-2023. Laid out in lush and provocative minimalist instrumentals, the album unfolds a story about the planning, partial construction, and dissolution of a home in constant state of becoming through the lens of its only child, coming of age under flux. Influenced by the approach of friends and collaborators Straw Man Army's OST to Charles Darwin's Voyage of the Beagle, Stone Upon Stone was originally intended as a soundtrack to a novel of the same name by Wieslaw Mysliwski, an epic set in Poland about a family's construction of a mausoleum. Struck by the story's parallels with his own family's project, he got the idea to complete the work as a personal narrative. Created from layers of different mellotron voices then separated, re-amplified, and recorded as if they were a sitting chamber orchestra, the music eerily blurs the line between human and synthetic, giving way to something akin to a memory with it's blurriness of fact and fiction. In the same spirit of association, this record is certainly influenced by other minimalists working within the confines of "soundtrack", like Philip Glass' North Star and the film work of Michael Nyman. But Brown's soundtrack works within its own peculiar depth of field, living in the listener's imagination, thriving in its own sense of loneliness, aspiration, and confusion that only childhood can evoke. Listeners will feel the entropy of aging in Stone Upon Stone, like a memoir in cascading tones, that sets it apart from so much else in DIY music, and rewards with repeated listens. For Fans of Philip Glass, Kali Malone, Julius Eastman, Mica Levi, Roedelius.

A decade has passed since Infinity Night graced Bordello A Parigi with his wonderful Winter and Summer EPs. After too long a wait, the French producer returns with the aptly titled Le Temps Qui Passe. Six slices of select synthesizer music make up the 12”, tracks lovingly crafted with Frederic Bergamaschi’s trademark analogue warmth. A melancholic melody meanders through brightness in “Tu Ne Me Réponds Pas”, dulcet words hidden under the machine gauze of a vocoder. Skittish percussion gives way to the refrain of “It’s Full of Stars”. Hazy keys appear as an arpeggiator rumbles below a shimmering sky. “Les Souvenirs De Valerie” picks up where its predecessor left off. Astral notes are beamed into the heavens, echoing into the while crisp cymbals tether the piece. Infinity Night has always sought that point of balance in his music, a bittersweetness he accentuates and explores. This is true in the darker shades of “Nymphomania”. Beats are bolstered, key stabs piercing the tenderness of analogue trills. The title track is a rich patchwork. A burbling undercurrent supports forays into diverse tangents with lyrics surfacing through key shifts and sliding scales. Marching to militaristic rhythms, “I Comme Icare” is the curtain call. The stringent drums are broken by sailing synthlines, vocals masked in a familiar mesh to close. Le Temps Qui Passe, well worth the wait.

VERY LIMITED 2025 REPRESS ON BEAM OF LIGHT VINYL .

Everything changed for The Beths when they released their debut album, Future Me Hates Me, in 2018. The indie rock band had long been nurtured within Auckland, New Zealand’s tight-knit music scene, working full-time during the day and playing music with friends after hours. Full of uptempo pop rock songs with bright, indelible hooks, the LP garnered them critical acclaim from outlets like Pitchfork and Rolling Stone, and they set out for their first string of shows overseas. They quit their jobs, said goodbye to their home town, and devoted themselves entirely to performing across North America and Europe. They found themselves playing to crowds of devoted fans and opening for acts like Pixies and Death Cab for Cutie. Almost instantly, The Beths turned from a passion project into a full-time career in music.

Songwriter and lead vocalist Elizabeth Stokes worked on what would become The Beths’ second LP, Jump Rope Gazers, in between these intense periods of touring. Like the group’s earlier music, the album tackles themes of anxiety and self-doubt with effervescent power pop choruses and rousing backup vocals, zeroing in on the communality and catharsis that can come from sharing stressful situations with some of your best friends. Stokes’s writing on Jump Rope Gazers grapples with the uneasy proposition of leaving everything and everyone you know behind on another continent, chasing your dreams while struggling to stay close with loved ones back home.

"If you're at a certain age, all your friends scatter to the four winds,” Stokes says. “We did the same thing. When you're home, you miss everybody, and when you're away, you miss everybody. We were just missing people all the time.”

With songs like the rambunctious “Dying To Believe” and the tender, shoegazey “Out of Sight,” The Beths reckon with the distance that life necessarily drives between people over time. People who love each other inevitably fail each other. “I’m sorry for the way that I can’t hold conversations/They’re such a fragile thing to try to support the weight of,” Stokes sings on “Dying to Believe.” The best way to repair that failure, in The Beths’ view, is with abundant and unconditional love, no matter how far it has to travel. On “Out of Sight,” she pledges devotion to a dearly missed friend: “If your world collapses/I’ll be down in the rubble/I’d build you another,” she sings.

“It was a rough year in general, and I found myself saying the words, 'wish you were here, wish I was there,’ over and over again,” she says of the time period in which the album was written. Touring far from home, The Beths committed themselves to taking care of each other as they were trying at the same time to take care of friends living thousands of miles away. They encouraged each other to communicate whenever things got hard, and to pay forward acts of kindness whenever they could. That care and attention shines through on Jump Rope Gazers, where the quartet sounds more locked in than ever. Their most emotive and heartfelt work to date, Jump Rope Gazers stares down all the hard parts of living in communion with other people, even at a distance, while celebrating the ferocious joy that makes it all worth it -- a sentiment we need now more than ever.

Long, long overdue reissue of this gem from the depths of The Skaters dreamweaving dimension, released as a limited tape through Spencer Clark's Pacific City imprint back in 2008. Comprising a period of extreme and vital activity for both Clark as Monopoly Child Star Searchers and Black Joker and his kindred spirit James Ferraro under his own name - 'Marble Surf' or 'Discovery' - and a myriad of identities like Liquid Metal or Edward Flex, this split finds these intrepid explorers on each side of a scrying mirror.
Conjuring the Angel Snake entity as a vessel for unlocking the unconscious, Ferraro takes up the A-side with hypnotic wooden percussion sustaining queasy tape processed keyboard lines that intertwine amidst a growing haze of hiss. About halfway through the digression an announcer boombox voice cuts up the scenery for a serpentine dance around the discarded remnants of civilisations past and future. Clark's Monopoly Child rides a beaming synth and muffled percussion accents on his trademarked keyboard thrills, all ascending and descending runs brimming on the horizon, not quite here, not quite out of reach, fading out to a galloping murk smeared by hallucinatory flute-like sounds and portamento accents that float in harmonic suspension.
Truly visionary and arresting stuff from these true purveyors of the netherworld, due to be rediscovered in these times of poor half-reassessments of the given past. It was never a dream, it was always a dream.

New Generation Carnival Riddims from St. Lucia and Dominica A hurricane of turbo-charged, body-buzzing tracks collide on Road Fever, a compilation of razor-produced, road-tested instrumental riddims from St. Lucia, Dominica & Guadeloupe that showcases the producers forging the future of Caribbean music in 2025. Road Fever draws together instrumental Dennery Segment and Bouyon riddims originally made for vocalists, presented for the first time as stand alone pieces of music. Distilling carnival riddims down to the bare bones, producers push minimal 150+bpms, FL-percussion packs, DJ/vox samples & synth riffs, bridging trap, drill, dancehall, sped-up Haitian konpa & Angolan kuduro. Ricocheting at the intersection of TikTok culture, best heard blasted through walls of speakers travelled by stage-sized carnival trucks or via bluetooth car speakers, St.Lucia"s "Dennery Segment" sound, (as iconic producer, G6 described in an interview), "sparks your inside; a sound you can"t hear and not move". Amsterdam-based, Curaçao-raised compiler Rozaly echoes G6: "Once you hear it, you can"t unhear or unfeel it. This is a musical movement with an entire history with so many relevant reasons why it still exists, and why it exists the way it exists right now". Rozaly concludes, "there is nothing more simple, let the artists speak."

The Oh Sees wasted no time in racing headlong into nightmarish battle with the mighty Orc, clawing even farther up the ghastly peak stormed so satisfyingly by their previous A Weird Exits. The band is in tour-greased, anvil-on-a-balance beam, gut-pleasingly heavy form, nimbly braining—with equal dashes of abandon and menace—on this fresh batch of bruisers and brooders, hypnotically stirred into to the cauldron of chaos you’ve come to expect. On Orc, fresh blood Paul Quattrone joins Dan Rincon to form a phalanx of interlocking double drums, alternately propelling and fleet-footing shifting ground to pinion John Dwyer’s cliff-face guitars to the boogie. Tim Hellman keeps it swinging like a battle-axe to the eyebrows. The tunes veer toward the violence of their live shows, with a few tasty swerves into other lanes: heavy to lush, groovy to stately. Throughout, it remains sinister in its swaggering skulk, manic in its fuzz-fried fugues. They hit all the sweet spots the heads foggily remember, and there’s plenty to sweat over if you just hopped into the sauna. More evil…more complex…more narcotic…more screech… more blare…more whisper…there’s even more Brigid. Less “Thee,” but more of everything else.

Profile 1
KONISHI yasuharu
Band leader, songwriter, arranger and producer of the now disbanded Pizzicato Five (1985- 2001). Although having 2 successful world tours and 5 international albums under his belt, with fans ranging from London’s Karminsky Experience to Karl Lagerfeld, many of his fans know him as a DJ, spinning in Tokyo’s hotspots such as Shibuya’s ‘Organ Bar’. He tours regularly throughout Japan and abroad. In the Jackson 5 Remix Album, his remix ‘I want you back (readymade 524 mix)’ received an extraordinary amount of national radio play.
The remix album itself has scored healthy rankings in major record stores. In 1998, his own project ‘Punch the Monkey!’ (in which he remixes the theme tune of a popular Japanese cartoon series ‘Lupin the Third’) sold over 700,000 records, and this, some say, began Japan’s remix rush. His achievements truly invaded the mainstream when in 2000, he produced the No.1 single ‘Oha-Rock’ which became a social phenomenon in itself. Most
recently, he set up his own record label, ‘readymade international inc.’ from he which he plans to release new exciting solo works.
His talents also embrace film and photography and he is well known as a director in promotional videos, shows and advertisements. T-shirts and original goods which Konishi personally designed are sold in select shops such as BEAMS of Shibuya.
He is also a writer having regular columns in various magazines, and has also written several books. A collection of his essays have been published under the title ‘Kore wa koi de wa nai’ (’This is not love’
)
Profile 2
IKEDA masanori (Mansfield)
Began his DJ career in London, 1991, while working in Soho’s Soul Jazz Records. After becoming resident DJ at ‘Blow-Up’ in London’s Wag Club, he has toured the country and the rest of Europe. With his friends Karminsky Experience and Gentle People, he has also organised numerous club events, compiled CDs and produced radio programs. Returning to Japan in 1997, as the DJ with the rarest records in the East, he immediately made his name Djing at many popular events up and down the country. He is recognised for rocking dancefloors on a global scale having completed a very well-received European tour in 2000.
Apart from his DJ work, he has contributed remixes for Konishi Yasuharu’s ‘Punch the Monkey!’. His solo releases include his mix CD series ‘Spin Out’ , ‘Spin Out 2’ (V2 Records Japan). His albums ‘6 Complexions of Mansfield’ and ‘It’s a mans’s man’s field’ (readymade records) released under his alias Mansfield have established his name as a sound creator. He is expecting to release a new album from readymade international early 2002. This
is the DJ/composer that everyone’s talking about.

“Eerie, wailing sounds over distorted feedback drones… Vibrato-heavy harmonies chirrup and throb in agonisingly slow motion.”
The Guardian, Album of the Month

“Cinematic...carefully orchestrated...delicately explores unfamiliar territory with uncanny finesse.”
The Wire

Acclaimed Icelandic theremin musician Hekla returns with Turnar, her third album of devastatingly heavy, spectral soundscape-songwriting, entering a sublime paranormal plane of haunting dread.

Now augmenting her virtuosic solo theremin work with cello, voice, and the sacred church organ of Icelandic master Kristján Hrannar, the evolution of Hekla’s unique magic summons new worlds with Turnar. The album was recorded partly in (and named after) a medieval castle tower in rural France, its ruinous black broken in spare beams of angelic stained-glass light. But, writes Hekla, “the sound of theremin kind of opens up a portal into a new realm that both looks into a dark old world and to the future.” The record is an alternately beautiful and crushing space voyage into a glacial underworld cascading with phosphorescence and cave drip, conjuring ancient choral ritual just as readily as redolent sci-fi gloam.

Opener “Inni” begins with swooning and shimmering lines of theremin that shiver with electrified energy before subfrequency bass elevates them into a glowing plasma, hovering above a crystallised surf. Key moment “Gráminn” wails with ghostly harmonics while distorted drones crash together in a stormy and blackened netherworld sea. It traces a neat progression from Hekla’s last album - the acclaimed Xiuxiuejar - while also welcoming an expanded timbral palette and flourishing compositional confidence. At the end of side A, “Var” delicately places sonic artefacts about a desolate negative space, creating a dense inverse gravity. As with the rest of the record, a claustrophobic gauze hangs over music that could otherwise be called subverted songwriting, aligning Hekla’s sonics with avant-garde, musique concréte and sound-art.

1/4" / 15 IPS / Dolby A Analogue Copy to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe

Carlos Santana and Company Return to a Dynamic Blend of R&B, Latin, Funk, and Rock: Amigos Aims for the Hips, Spreads Joy, and Includes “Europa (Earth’s Cry Heaven’s Smile)” Amigos has been beloved for decades by both long-time and recent Santana admirers, with multiple generations of fans drawn in by the record’s contagious blend of R&B, Latin, rock, and funk elements. As well as its immense accessibility. Coming off a series of albums that heavily leaned into jazz fusion, the band returns to the more dynamic and concise approaches of its earlier works without losing the sense of adventurousness, craftsmanship, and virtuosity that turned it into a juggernaut embraced by both the mainstream and experimentally minded communities.

Mastered at Mobile Fidelity’s in-house studio in California, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, and strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM LP of Amigos presents the 1976 album in audiophile sound for the first time on a domestic release. Part of the reissue label’s Santana series, this collectible version features quiet surfaces and black backgrounds that help reveal the intricate details, distinguished tones, and cohesive interplay that cause Santana’s music to take flight.

The enhanced aural perspectives extend not only to Carlos Santana’s intoxicating fills and solos, but to the rich tapestry of the rhythmic, melodic, and vocal elements that help Amigos feel as fresh today as it did several decades ago. This LP shines a beaming light on the surrounding musicians that simultaneously feed off and inspire their bandleader. The solidity and depth of the bass lines; the wash of the organ; the scope and carry of the vocals; the grip and weight of the low-end frequencies; and, possibly the most enticing traits, the textures of the acoustic guitars, numerous percussive devices, and then-modern synthesizers: all come across with tremendous presence and energy.

Entirely appropriate for a set that kicks from the start, with the opening “Dance Sister Dance (Baila Mi Hermana)” true to the song title’s combination directive-invitation meaning. Tropical, soulful, upbeat, and liberating, it beckons hips to shake and delicious libations to pour. Clinking cowbells, spirited background vocals, hand-tapped congas, and Carlos Santana’s six-string magma pour forth with abundance. The song sets the mood and expectations for a record that contains not an ounce of filler, and which inspires and spreads joy at practically every turn.

On the gold-certified Amigos, the ensemble never seems to run short of zest or happiness. Key in on the Latin bite and searing guitar architecture of “Take Me With You,” an instrumental that shifts tempo at its midpoint and sparkles with a samba-like outro that aims to put everyone in earshot on the dance floor. Surrender to the slow-burn of “Tell Me You Are Tired,” sent up with Greg Walker’s sympathetic vocals and spun around with whirling funk accents. Marvel at the Spanish guitar introduction, Mexican folk foundation, group vocals, and extroverted grooves of the forward-propulsive “Gitano,” with lead singing by conga/bongo expert Armando Peraza.

Having reached the Top 10 in the United States and spawned the hit “Let It Shine,” Amigos marked the final stint for bassist David Brown, the last of the group’s famed Woodstock lineup to depart. His contributions feel especially spirited throughout the album, compass readings that the group uses to chart their course. Just listen to how his passages pop on “Let Me” and frame the can’t-get-it-out-of-your-head “what you need is what you want” refrain. And while Carlos Santana remains the centerpiece of the brilliant and meditative “Europa (Earth’s Cry Heaven’s Smile),” Brown serves as a trustworthy anchor and friendly advocate.

It has been twenty years since the first Back To Mine release but still the series is going strong. These personal after-hours soundtracks have never sounded more relevant than now, and next up is GRAMMYr Award-nominated, San Francisco-based artist Tycho. It finds him going deeper than one of his famous Burning Man sets as he heads into otherworldly, cinematic headphone territory with tunes from Lancaster, Little Dragon, Octo Octa, Ulrich Schnauss and many more across four fantastic sides of vinyl.

Pete Rogers is half of D&B Duo Technimatic, releasing numerous albums on Shogun Audio and further singles on a range of other labels such as Good Looking Records, RAM, Hospital and their own label Technimatic Music, garnering acclaim from the likes of Resident Advisor, Mixmag, Thump, UKF and tastemaking DJs such as Annie Mac and Giles Peterson.

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

As many artists before them (Gainsbourg, Snoop Dogg, Lavilliers, Sinead O'Connor…), DA BREAK embarques us to revisit their best tracks “Inna Reggae Vibe”, and invites us listeners to rediscover their repertoire with a more than ever “Roots” sound. An enchanted break that will seduce the early fans as well as reggae connoisseurs; A suspended moment with a band on their new musical quest, assuming a different side of their DNA.

The idea of an “old school reggae auto remix” had bloomed for quite a long time, with the will to dive into the 60s & 70s sound esthetics and to pay tribute to this reggae culture - this unique cultural temple they love and respect so much.
DA BREAK concerts are always rich and intense musical moments, thanks to a crew of solid musicians, so the choice to record LIVE, all in the same room, was quite obvious; with “vintage” instruments and microphones, to enjoy this warm and authentic sonic texture. The result is a “Roots & Rock Steady” album without electronics, leaning towards sweaty and rough Jazz, tropical Soul or even Gospel with sand between the toes… definitely Reggae!
DA BREAK remains DA BREAK, with its inner light, this time looking towards the Caribbean musical culture.

Given the historical influence of Jamaican Sound Systems on the American Block Parties, it seemed logical for DA BREAK to pay tribute to the artists that influenced them since day one, and still do today: Bob Marley & the Wailers, Jimmy Cliff. Culture, Toots & the Maytals, Burning Spears, The Gladiators, YellowMan, Israel Vibrations, LKJ & Mad Professor, UB40, Shaka Demus, Peter Tosh... Just to name a few.

“I am OBSESSED with the 80s. I love the loud neon colours and fashion and the kinetic energy of the music. It’s uplifting and bittersweet with a ton of keyboards, what’s not to like?” reasons Morgane when asked what it is she likes about the decade. This exuberance is brightly reflected in the mirror ball synthpop of her third album released at the end of September. It is her second long player to appear on vinyl after the release of Between The Funk And The Fear debut on the Polytechnic Youth label.

Morgane was the keyboard player in Stereolab between 1995 and 2001 during which time they released Emperor Tomato Ketchup (her favourite) and Dots And Loops. As a teenager though she first played the drums, then guitar and bass. She only learnt the keyboards one month before joining the group. “They gave me 40 songs to learn, it was a baptism of fire”.

After leaving Stereolab, Morgane first moved to New York for nine years; she’d always planned to move to America having spent a lot of time there with her parents and of course those space-pop pioneers. The warmer weather of LA enticed her though and you can hear its pulse in Day-Glo Chaos. The album’s thumping heart is pumped by the city’s night sky and when asked she cites three particular albums as her favourites: the oddball analogue electro of Jacno’s 1979 debut; John Carpenter’s ‘Escape From New York’ and The B-52’s ‘Cosmic Thing’. There’s also a strong nod to the playful computerised harmonies of Yellow Magic Orchestra whilst she’s somewhat partial to the synth prog of Yes and Soft Machine. “I actually created a synth on Ableton Live named after Rick Wakeman’. I should create one after Mike Ratledge next!”

Throughout her work (but especially on this record) you can hear the influence of computer games. “I’m an avid gamer and have been one since I was a teenager and fell in love with my Commodore 64”. Though not a fan of Hotline Miami or the GTA series (“too violent”) she liked Hang On and loved Outrun which she used to play a lot on her Sega Master System. “I just got the soundtrack reissue from Data Disc and it is beautiful” she enthuses.

You’ll see and hear such influences on the lead single from the album ‘Midnite Rogue’ the video to which pays (im)perfect juddering homage to such arcade culture. Car tyres glued to sticky tarmac, French pop music lost in the air. The title was inspired by a Fighting Fantasy book which she adored as a kid. “I love the idea of this entity causing mischief during night time”, she beams. It’s not hard to see why.

Limited Edition of 1000 Opaque Pink 180 Gram Vinyl LP. Kiss Each Other Clean, Iron & Wine's fourth full length record was originally released in 2011 and came three years after his biggest selling record up to that point, The Shepherd's Dog. The bands two earlier albums had been sparse, intimate solo affairs that offered no hint of the direction he would take with records three and four. Like The Shepherd's Dog, Kiss Each Other Clean is layered with textures, poly-rhythmic sounds and a more is more approach. His lyrics sprung to life in ways initially unimaginable to early fans and critics helping each song tell its story and build to climaxes thru various sounds and editing techniques. However what remained at the core of KEOC, and what fans of the band had come to love, was the song writing and singing of principle songwriter Sam Beam. Beam's ability to invite you in with his hushed singing tone and knack for a melody remained front and center even in his drive to replicate something in the vein of Waits' Swordfishtormbones Principle recording for KEOC was at home in Dripping Springs, Texas where Beam resided at the time. After laying down the bulk of the record Beam moved recording to Chicago to work with Brian Deck. A cast of musicians helped Beam find his sound and see his vision for KEOC including Joe Adamik (Califone), Jim Becker (Califone), Thomas Bartlett (Doveman), Stuart Bogie (Antibalas), Rob Burger (Tin Hat Trio), Benny Massarella (Red Red Meat/Califone), Chad Taylor (Chicago Underground Duo) and Matt Lux (Isotope 217). With KEOC Beam and company brought in soft rock smoothness, dub reggae textures, and instruments that hadn't been featured on previous records. The vintage synths on 'Monkeys Uptown', the Stevie Wonder funk on 'Big Burned Hand,', the strum and drang of 'Walking Far From Home' all give the otherwise very organic-sounding arrangements a welcome cheesy kick. The record also produced the biggest radio single of the bands career with the vintage AM friendly vibes of 'Tree by the River.' It was an adventurous period in the career in Iron & Wine and one in which Beam was defying categorization.

Limited Edition of 1000 Opaque Light Blue 180 Gram Vinyl LP. Ghost on Ghost is Iron & Wine's fifth full length record and was originally released in 2013. The album found Sam Beam the bands principle member working once again with longtime associate Brian Deck (Modest Mouse, Califone). The record marks the last time the two would work together on a journey that began with the bands second record, Endless Numbered Days. It also marked a shift for the two from working in Chicago to setting up in New York City. The idea behind the move was to tap into the creative musical community New York had to offer. The line-up that helped bring Beam's vision for Ghost on Ghost to life included a who's who from the jazz community as well as the deep wells of outside art including Steve Bernstein (Sex Mob/Levon Helm Band), Rob Burger (Tin Hat Trio), Brian Blade, Curtis Fowlkes (The Jazz Passengers), Tony Garnier (Bob Dylan Band), Marika Hughes, Briggan Kraus, Maxim Moston, Tony Scherr (The Lounge Lizards), Doug Wieselman, Kenny Wolleson (Tom Watis/John Zorn) and Anja Wood. The level of talent on Ghost on Ghost far surpassed anything Beam ever imagined when he first began writing songs as Iron and Wine on his four-track. Upon completing the Ghost on Ghost Beam jokingly referred to the recording process as "a reward to myself" after years of chasing sounds by himself. Being able have the finest in musicians in New York City perform on the record, elevating these songs into places he never imagined Beam stated, "it was an honor -- really inspiring." Beam stated at the time that Ghost on Ghost takes it's inspiration from records like Nilsson Schmilsson, Ram, Mingus Moves and What's Going On. The record they all crafted is warm and inviting and was like anything up to that point in the Iron & Wine catalog.

Reissue

Nachdem sie uns den technotropischen Pop von Supersempfft durch die Wiederveröffentlichung ihrer zweiten LP "Metaluna" vorgestellt haben, beamen sich die trittsicheren Leute vom Hamburger Bureau B ein paar Jahre zurück, um uns das unverschämte Debüt der Hessen zu präsentieren. Das kollaborative Vehikel karrt durch den Kosmos wie ein Hochleistungsclownsauto, das gewagte Akkordprogressionen, technische Innovationen und einen Haufen Hooks hinter seinem Cartoon-Chassis verbirgt und uns glückliche Hörer auf die Spritztour mitnimmt.

Finland has long had a uniquely progressive underground, with thriving punk, avant, jazz, and rock scenes with oversized output and impact. Jussi Lehtisalo’s (Circle, Pharaoh Overlord, Mahti, etc) label Ektro has been at the center of this activity for the last three decades, with a stream of excellent and conceptually bonkers releases covering music of all types. Here Lehtisalo joins up with Jan Anderzén (of Kemialliset Ystävät among others) for an album of absolutely fun and unusual miniature duets that sound like alien Library music beamed in from the outerlands. Tracks like “Luukku Yksi” and “Puistossa” use a charmingly retro synth-y sound palate and Cluster-like melodic sensibility to make accessible some deceptively “out” music. Some cuts (like “Kylpy”) have a vague hint of early ’80s post-punk / new wave vibes, bouncing along in a friendly way with odd interjections of sample debris and electronics jumping out of the mix to keep it weird. The surging “Hymy yössä” could be music for the credits of the world’s hippest newscast. Beautiful jacket by renown Helsinki-based artist Dylan Ray Arnold, bringing the die-cut techniques of their gallery pieces like “Growth of the Night Plants” to LP form.

"The seven songs of Tombeaux comprise the Brooklyn-based composer and multi-instrumentalist’s third full-length recording, and her first written and arranged for a large ensemble. Frustrated by the limitations of self-production and solitary home recording, Sridharan set out to create something sonically broader, featuring sitar, vibraphone, woodwinds, horns, strings, and piano. Tombeaux is richly textured and deeply felt, weaving medieval and classical influences into a distinct art pop tapestry that will be much loved by fans of Laurie Anderson, Bel Canto, Anna von Hausswolf, and Julia Holter, who produced the record.

The record’s subject is as expansive as the ensemble; each song is a discrete tale of a death, imagined by Sridharan and told in the first person. From reimagining the work of 16th-century Indian poet Mirabai to exploring Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea afterworld, The Dry Land, to writing about her own grandmother’s death, Sridharan teases out the varied nature of death, applying a broad range of historical and cultural lenses to this great inevitability.

Sridharan was raised by an Indian father who exposed her to Indian classical music and a mother whose passion for history, archeology, and medieval music informed and inspired her from an early age. Her upbringing in the woods of Michigan and high school years on the shores Lake Michigan perhaps further inspired her tendency toward reverie, imagined narratives, and the drama that unfolds between this shore and the next.

Though not intended as an exhaustive survey of ideas of death across cultures, Tombeaux’s scope is impressive, shot through with the feel of a book of short stories, or a performance of tales. It is enchanting and elegantly executed, sensitively shepherded by Holter’s production."

2024 Reissue

Limited Clear w/ Silver Splatter vinyl. 15 years after the band's debut album was release, Sargent House is set to do a special anniversary re-issue with updated artwork and limited-edition clear w/ silver splatter vinyl with Silver/Red foil jacket available. Upcoming tour dates include multiple festival appearances and a UK/EU headline tour in August. 12th Nottingham Rescue Rooms, 13th Manchester Gorilla, 14th London Underworld, 15th Bristol ArcTanGent. For Fans of Fu Manchu / Melvins. This the debut is being repressed. Red Fang is the formation of long time friends and collaborators Bryan Giles (Last of the Juanitas, Party Time), Aaron Beam (Dark Forces, Lachrymator), David Sullivan (Party Time, facedowninshit, Shiny Beast) and John Sherman (Party Time, Bad Wizard, Trumans Water, All Night). Unleashed on New Year's Eve of 2006 in Portland, Oregon, Red Fang stormed out of the gates, introducing a sweaty, seething basement to a new kind of unforgettable fist-pumping, beer-chugging rock music. Since that night, the band has continued with the same intensity, energy, and intimacy to quickly become a touring juggernaut, playing shows all over the US with bands like The Melvins, Big Business, and The Sword, to name just a few. Residing somewhere between Black Flag and Black Sabbath, Red Fang recall a time when rock was more urgent and horrifying. Synthesizing a variety of heavy music influences into their own distinct musical identity, the band easily shifts from barn-burning punk to mid-tempo, hyper-distorted bass destruction all while maintaining a cohesive sound. Red Fang create gigantic rock songs that are easy to listen to (not easy listening, mind you) and qualify the simultaneous usage of both the thinking and the banging head, which are usually mutually exclusive. Their instrumentation is fluid and effortless, and the vocals are delivered melodically and forcefully, with enough rasp and effect saturation to fit nicely within the music. Paired with elemental imagery, the lyrics are immense and satisfying without any pretense.

A band who have justifiably been championed across the world, Tokyo’s Melt-Banana have been responsible for some of the most complex punk rock ever made … that far outshines ninety-nine percent of most other bands out there. The band once described their live show as “Shooting machine gun and laser beam, chaos in order.” And I think that pretty much sums them up. — Olli Siebelt, BBC No wave without the self-conscious pretension, avant garde composition compressed into one-minute-or-less bursts, urgency, intricate destruction, pure glorious abandon. Melt-Banana play the same way that Repulsion, Naked City, The Ruins, or The Boredoms all make you want to scream and dance and kill your neighbors. This is not music that we are conditioned to accept. This is you delirious with joy scraping your five senses off the floor. —Matthew Moyer, Ink19 Melt-Banana are in a league of their own. There are other extreme hardcore bands out there who are experimental and unique but Melt-Banana are more than that. They area giants amongst infants. Masters amongst pupils. Kings amongst serfs. Nobody can do what they do and nobody can adequately use words to describe them. —Jeb, Crass Menagerie

"Trails" is a 7-track EP by Guitarist and composer Robbie Belchamber, which draws upon elements of jazz, brazilian, west african and folk music. The compositions are centered around the soft timbre of fingerstyle nylon-string guitar, with subtle arrangements incorporating voice, flute, percussion, mandolin, accordion and electric guitar filling out the texture.

"During lockdown I spent a lot of time exploring Melbourne's northern waterways, riding my bike along the Birrarung, Darebin creek and Merri creek. These opportunities to slow down, reflect, observe and spend time in nature formed the genesis of many of the compositions. "Trails" sonifies these experiences, the bubbling rhythms of water, melodic inventions of currawongs and magpie-larks, pervasive scents of the bush, all changing with the seasons."

"Trails" is the first release under Robbie Belchamber, and features collaborations Melbourne musicians such as Lucky Pereira (Glass Beams, 30/70), Hannah McKittrick, Grace Robinson (Empress), Moses Carr, Aidan Ryan (NoLess) and Erica Tuccerri.

Aerials live, dials tuned, Transmission Towers broadcasting. On either side of the river Mersey, transcendental communications are traded back and forth. Two late-night revellers, one firing messages filled with music, the other returning them laced with lyrics. The result, a dopamine hit of oddball machine soul, melded with a highlife, Afrofuturist touch. Wonky and murky yet deeply emotional, Transmission One, is a debut album that also marks the first release on Luke Una’s É Soul Cultura label, encompassing expertly the off-kilter atmosphere the label sets to orbit.

A synthesised landscape with a Northern charm, Transmission Towers marry the musical worlds of two artists that last collaborated over a decade ago. 10 years have passed, lives have been led, but a gravitational pull has placed Mark Kyriacou and Eleanor Mante back in each other’s spheres on opposite sides of the city of Liverpool. Energised with a newfound desire to strip it all back to the sounds that influenced their formative years in the late ‘80s and ‘90s - astral travelling, intoxicated on Motor City techno, Black Dog IDM and mystical Sun Ra.

Mark half Irish, half Greek Cypriot, Eleanor half Nigerian, half Ghanian, the music contained within is an alchemy of those roots and the pivotal acts that buried deep into their minds. A cosmic contrast, part machine-made, part distinctly human. Take the opener ‘UP’, an ESG-channelling, sci-fi punk beatdown or the polychromatic hyperspace anthem ‘Roller Skater 23’.

Transportive throughout, you ride the solar waves, pace and emotion ebbing and flowing. Tracks like ‘Go Slow Heart’ and ‘Cosmic Trigger’ step to a slower beat but hit with a punch. The former, a slo-mo blast of celestial tenderness, the latter an otherworldly, chugged-out lunar excursion, micro-dosing on whacked-out Wah Wah and Eleanor’s ethereal vocals. Beaming love letters to space and back, ‘Sparse’ marries the organic with the artificial, pianos and percussion circling around synth pads and broadcasting bleeps.

Elsewhere, vibrations move faster. ‘Mega’ strikes, fusing sonic tribalism with psychedelic swirls, as ‘Everything’ sweeps you up in its extra-terrestrial new wave grip. Synth stabs and basslines fizzing from every angle.

Demos of Transmission Towers music surfaced on Luke Una’s radar, making him stop in his tracks. Something magical was emerging, perfectly aligned with the E Soul guardian’s tastes. Guidance followed, quickly turning into conversations about Transmission One becoming the first release on Luke’s own label.

Escapist and futurist yet grounded and relatable. Transmission One is synthesis meets sentiment with a deep, spine-tingling soul at its core.