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What Are People For? make the perfect kind of dystopic dance music for our times. Born from a collaboration between artist Anna McCarthy and musician/producer Manuela Rzytki, the band could be the illicit lovechild of Tom Tom Club and Throbbing Gristle, displaying the ideal balance of hip shaking vibes and dark provocative content.

On their collaborative debut, McCarthy and Rzytki share songwriting duties. The album was produced by Rzytki herself. They are joined by Paulina Nolte on backing vocals and Tom Wu on drums, while Keith Tenniswood mastered the record.

The whole project stems from a publication and exhibition by McCarthy laying the foundations for the content and lyrics of the album, which is humorous, poetic and political. As a lyricist, McCarthy uses her storytelling ability to explore anxieties and desires, digging into free surreal word associations reminiscent of Su Tissues’ tongue in cheek experiments with Suburban Lawns, but also explosive and gripping like a Kae Tempest rap.
Rzytki’s precise sonic palette and talent at penning structured bangers perfectly complement McCarthy’s playful and subversive language manipulations. Rzytki's beats are rooted in old school Hiphop loop principles and an authentic love for the analog. Her use of an array of synthesizers and other "real" instruments adds to WAPF's depth, soul and sincerity.

The album opens with a joyful anthem, full of energy and melodic hooks. The audience is confronted with the quintessential titular question What Are People For? and told that they are just a mere disposable commodity. Throughout the album, lyrical themes revolve around underground aspects of society, violence, political ideologies, sexuality and mysticism. The content is deep but the album is as danceable as it is biting.

73, with its drum machine hysteria and hypnotic synth basses is a a text collage written on the 73 bus through London, consisting of situations and conversation snippets encountered along the way. Drones indulges in the narrator’s paranoia as they feel they are being watched by cigarette machines, whilst the haunting choir is half spoken, half sung, ending on the orgasmic chanting of the word “mummy”. Nursery Rhyme brings more soothing incantations. There is definitely an affinity for fairytales, albeit adult ones and especially the anarchistic ones such as The Moomins, who were a consistent influence on the band. The artwork for the record, created by McCarthy, is a beautiful children's book-style painting of the group in a forest, seemingly about to engage in a magical encounter to which we are invited.

WAPF? have absorbed and digested a variety of influences. Trip hop, Punk and Techno are rubbing shoulders on Party Time. 1977 was coined “Summer of Hate” in the UK and unsurprisingly in WAPF?’s Summer of War, ethereal singing alternates with a powerful marching Garage/Grime chorus reminiscent of street protests and UK culture.

Mz. Lazy starts like an invitation to meditation and references Gertrude Stein’s book Ida in which she develops the idea that publicity is a new religion and people are now famous for being famous. Repressed anger explodes into violence and freedom at the end of the song as our heroine eventually grabs an axe to destroy her oppressors.
Fantasize, on its part, is raw, sexual and liberating while the closing track Bring Back the Dirt is a welcome hymn into a world that is becoming more and more sanitised.

While exploring deep subject matters throughout their album, WAPF? manage to remain satirical, exciting and funny. Each and everyone of their songs have a cathartic quality.

The visual identity of the band is intrinsic to their appeal. Live, they are eccentric, wild and unapologetic, wearing see-through costumes, bright miniskirts and intricate headpieces while delivering their songs with sharp intensity. Their performances radiate queer sexiness and transcend B52's thrift store aesthetics, creating a space for collective dreaming.

WAPF? is a rare combination of contemporary punk energy, irresistible groove, absurdist dry humour and astounding depth of field. They have the mighty power to create a party with their music and soon you will find yourself lifting your arms as if controlled by an external force, to chant: WAPF? WAPF? WAPF?

– Marie Merlet (Malphino, Little Trouble Girls, London)

Written and recorded in the midst of a dizzying stretch in which nearly everything about the way the band lived and worked was turned on its head, Motel Radio's "The Garden" is indeed a work of relentless hope. The songs are profoundly vulnerable here, and the performances are warm and breezy, calling to mind everything from Andy Shauf and Cass McCombs to Beck and Tame Impala with an easygoing demeanor that belies the deep emotional work underpinning them. Motel Radio generated early buzz in their adopted hometown of New Orleans on the strength of their 2015 debut EP, Days & Nights, which helped land them dates with the likes of Kurt Vile and Drive-By Truckers in addition to festival slots at Firefly, Jazz Fest, and more. The band followed it up with the similarly well-received Desert Surf Films in 2016 and their first full-length, Siesta Del Sol, in 2019, touring the country on a seemingly endless loop as they built up their devoted following one night at a time. Since then, the band had set a goal of becoming more self-sufficient and learning to record on their own, and when it came time to cut The Garden, they dove in headfirst, cutting half the collection in an old fishing camp south of New Orleans with the help of engineer Ross Farbe (Video Age, Esther Rose) and the other half fully remotely while engineering themselves. "There was this real creative freedom that came with working remotely and learning how to run the sessions on our own," explains co-lead singer Ian Wellman. "Synths, samples, beats, plug-ins; suddenly these whole new worlds of sound were at our fingertips and the possibilities were limitless." That creative liberation is easy to hear on The Garden, which opens with the mesmerizing "Wise." Like much of the album, it's a gentle meditation on finding joy and fulfillment, on spreading love and positivity. "I've gotta open my eyes," co-lead singer Winston Triolo sings over dreamy guitars and a hypnotic digital drum loop. "I only get one life, well now how can I live it wise?" The airy "Outta Sight" celebrates the simple pleasures of letting go and being present, while the washed-out "Sweet Daze" revels in the warmth of human connection, and propulsive "Happiness Pie" looks for ways to share the comfort and contentment that comes with self-acceptance. On The Garden, they've realized there's no sweeter garden than the one you grow yourself.

Mando Diao is back on full effect having played all the major rock-festivals across Europe in summer 2022 including Southside and Novarock. Just before the summer-season they rolled out the first in a series of volumes with sizzling hot and high octane ROCK fresh of the studio. Vol 1 produced the radio-success "Frustration" that managed to climb all the way to No 2 at rock-radio in Germany. Now we are happy to announce Vol 2 to drop 23rd of September having parts of the band in Hamburg for an exclusive and personal 20 YEARS OF MANDO DIAO panel during Reeperbahn Festival. The lead-track "Primal Call" is a hippie-like sounding one that draws inspiration from Led Zeppelin and King Crimson, a much punkier version. No logic whatsoever in the changes throughout the track but hey, that's how the band likes it. Full of surprises. As if the producer was a total lunatic out of control. "Fire in the hall" is a short, intense song written by Björn and Jens. Once again, a blend of primitive rock'n'roll feel and electronics. For example, the drums are based on samples of Patso's drumming. The lyrics are simple and almost trivial, with a "La Vida Loca" vibe: start a great fire, for yourself and others. Most things can be solved with a cleansing dance - both in reality and in lyrics. "If you write the lyrics together with someone, it's easier to avoid becoming pretentious and over-analytical," they summarize. Finally, "Charlie", about their current producer (Charlie Storm). One of the greatest there is having worked with so many big releases (Roxette, In Flames, Hurl etc). At least partly. They were excited about him and felt that he deserved a song. Or maybe they didn't have anything else to write about. Everyone had different inputs, but it ended up being a pure rock'n'roll song. And a real banger.

Vessels promise an escape from responsibilities towards the landscape, they facilitate our avoidance of conscientiously feeling our attachment to the mainland. The visual nothingness of deep water and clean horizons fools the brain and delivers a treacherous feeling of independence.

We ignore the truths expressed by landscapes, so we mould them into urban projects for our strange desires. We clean up the irrationalities by which nature constructs itself. Then we look up to the skies, where the abstractions we have to draw in our minds should reside and inspire us.

We peer into the various shades of blue above the waters, the emptiness guarantees possibilities of our abstractions becoming realities. The apathetic stare into neat, straight horizons transforms our ancestral landscape into dirt and danger, when looking back to it.

To be on a ship under quarantine, is an upside down experience, for the promised escape has turned into a forced paralysis. The Lima flag (? - ? ?, in morse code), presented on the outer sleeve of this record, indirectly demands of all passengers to stay aboard and contemplate their escape from the land they now desire to return to.

These four piano pieces could be considered as a classical sonata (allegroadagio-scherzo-rondo). In a recital they are accompanied by four video pieces by artist Karl Van Welden. We picked the videos out of his extensive archive, choosing images intuitively while listening to the piano music. The theme of ships relating to quarantine thus came unannounced but of course, we were in the middle of the pandemic at the time.

Solastalgia was already waiting as a title for the new album before march 2020. I first came across the word in Underland, a book by Robert Macfarlane (2019). He defines the word as "The unhappiness of people whose landscapes are being transformed about them by forces beyond their control". These forces and this unhappiness are, I believe, what constitutes the modern human. Solastalgia, about the music We haven't found them yet, the words to talk to each other about the worrying signs of climate change. Feeling worried when walking on autumn leaves in the beginning of August should be completely normal. But how do we communicate about it? We don't want to be just the next hysterical doomer.

With this music I try to focus on the climate pain itself, gently inviting the listener to investigate their latent feelings of unease and growing concerns about the environment. As in real life, we circumvent the real issues because they are just too big, there are no words, no expressions yet.

This album tries, in four different attempts, to carve out a path towards communicating about a deeper pain that eventually will connect us all. My general method is to start with a comforting melody, full of fake nostalgia, which, after changing gear to autodestruct mode, morphs into a painful question mark.

The first part sets off with an idyllic melody, accompanied by repeated notes, as a far, muted echo of an alarm. The melody starts to explain itself painfully into a dissonant whirlwind in the high register, sounding not unlike Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit bravura. In the second piece a warm Beatles like melody (And I love her) gets confronted with the weird hippie mantra of a later Lennon song War is over, if you want it. Sentences get reduced to syllables and result in lonely notes that crash and shiver under the burden of too much meaning. Like Shostakovich's latest work, the Sonata for viola and piano.

The descending melody of Bach's Erbarme dich, Mein Gott is echoed in the upper and lower voicings of the third piece, juxtaposed to a typical, threatening Ennio Morricone Western dotted rhythm accompaniment. This rhythm eventually evolves into citing the 1972 Captain Beefheart early ecological warning song Blabber and Smoke (there's a big pane/pain in your window, it's gonna hang you all,... dangle you all). Towards the middle of the piece, the music explodes and the three layers get dispersed all over the keyboard in a virtuosic maelstrom towards another painful question mark. The bitter answer is going back to business with a barely noticeable citation of the first notes of the RZA's Liquid Swords album.

The final piece is some kind of mantra, the same 7/4 pulse all throughout the piece. The dampers of all A's and B's on the keyboard are released by the middle pedal, thus sustaining an ever present resonance. Melodic cells alternate in shifting quantifications with small, bell like percussive cluster playing. While composing this piece an image crept up: walking out of the church on Sunday morning, tolling bells enthusiastically moderating the churchgoers' small talk in the local dialect. Apparently I have tried to evoke this kind of conversation, but injecting it with fictitious alarming conversation topics, the contemporary.

Frederik Croene (August '22)

Italy’s rising star Mauro Venti will arrive on Hot Creations for the first time in July with the three-track Sirens EP. It continues a stellar 2022 for the burgeoning artist, having released on EMI and Snatch Records already this year.

The title track leads the charge, blending minimal-laced bass elements with a rolling lead groove. It’s a modern house cut through and through, building cleanly into the futuristic sounds of Prison. Signature synths create a bladerunner-esque feel, transporting us to far away realms, before Symphony ends proceedings on a techy, late-night note courtesy of four-four bass patterns and gritty, hard-hitting percussion.

Mauro Venti is fast-becoming one of contemporary house music’s leading forces. His releases speak for themselves, with appearances on Green Velvet’s Relief, Superfett and Gorgon City’s Realm Records already under his belt. At just twenty-five years old, such feats are made all the more impressive, proving there’s plenty still to come for the young Italian talent.

Sympathetic Magic is an ecstatic, delirious, and deeply touching piece of music; a towering new work in Kim Myhr’s increasingly substantial output as an artist and composer. Sympathetic Magic is the follow-up to Kim Myhr’s 2017 album You | me, which was widely praised and received an honorary mention at the 2018 Nordic Music Prize. While the immersive warmth of You | me is still present, Sympathetic Magic is more expansive than its predecessor. A band of eight musicians playing a wide variety of instruments including electric 12-string guitars, drum machines, vocals, synthesizers, organs and lots of drums and percussion, has created a work of a grander scale. The shimmering, oceanic waves of You | me has been traded for cosmic currents in Sympathetic Magic. Put simply, Sympathetic Magic is a collection of song-like structures that has expanded into symphonic proportions. “With You | me, I wanted to create an ocean of sound, where the listener is surrounded by a myriad of elements that has equal importance in the music. I wanted to challenge this a bit, to push certain elements forward. The result is a more song-like kind of music than what I’ve done before.” – Kim Myhr Just before starting working on Sympathetic Magic, Kim bought an old 70s Yamaha organ (the YC45d), after falling in love with the sound of it on different recordings. At first, he thought the organ would be a subtle element on the new record, but it ended up becoming a focal point: “It’s a brilliant in-your-face sound that brought an ecstatic quality to the music. Playing around with this instrument, along with an 80s Roland Juno synth and a new drum machine took the music in new directions.” – Kim Myhr. Thematically, Sympathetic Magic circles around a longing for collectivity and togetherness. While the world was locked down in 2021, thanks to a commission from Oslo Jazz Festival, Kim had the opportunity to delve deeply into this project, working with the members of the band, one at a time: “The music created a situation of unexpected positivity. It felt like a social project even if I spent most of the time on it alone. And all this positive, joyful energy felt quite magical, arriving like out of thin air in this otherwise grim situation. It all felt like a hallucination, which fed back into the music. Sympathetic Magic is like a dream within a dream.” – Kim Myhr The title of the record is a term coined by James Frazer in The Golden Bough. He writes: “things which have once been in contact with each other continue to act on each other at a distance after the physical contact has been severed”. “In a closed down world where all our connections with the outside suddenly are remote or absent, the line between the real and imaginary is blurred. I felt that the term perfectly summed up the thoughts, processes and sentiments that went into the making of this record”, says Myhr. “Kim Myhr is a master of slow-morphing rhythms and sun-dappled textures that seem to glow from the inside”. The Guardian 1/And I Thought These Are My People 2/Gifting Senselessly In Endless Lavishness 3/Move The Rolling Sky 4/Iridescent 5/Up To The Sun Shall Go Your Heartache 6/I Wonder If I Shall Fall Right Through The Earth 7/Heart Streams

Limited to: 300 copies.

Lera Lynn blurs the boundaries between genres, carving out a sound inspired by art-pop, indie-folk and the outer edges of American roots music. She’s a singer. She’s a songwriter. She’s a road warrior. She’s a multi-instrumentalist and producer. She’s a mother.

Texas born, Nashville resident Lera Lynn is just as comfortable creating an album entirely by herself, as she is collaborating with her heroes. In 2018, she worked with T Bone Burnett and Rosanne Cash on tracks that were not only picked up by the TV show True Detective, but Lynn was cast as a recurring character who performs in a dive bar frequented by the main characters.

However, nothing could have prepared Lynn for the lessons learned during motherhood. She welcomed her first son during the early months of the pandemic and began writing down her insights, chronicling this newfound experience of shifting priorities, strange endings, and new beginnings. Inside, she was battling postpartum depression. Outside, a bigger picture began taking shape: a feeling of interconnectedness, of cyclic renewal, of the knowledge that every beginning is an end and every end is a beginning. Those realizations coalesced into Something More Than Love, a record filled with synthesizers, lush soundscapes, the pop-noire punch of Lynn's voice, and the most dynamic melodies of her career.

Inspired by the cyclical patterns that shape our place in the world, Something More Than Love was co-produced and largely performed by Lynn and her partner, Todd Lombardo (Kacey Musgraves/Donovan Woods/Kathleen Edwards). They'd met years earlier, not long after Lynn relocated to Nashville from her college town (and musical launchpad) of Athens, Georgia. "My first time ever co-writing a song was in Nashville with Todd," she says of the ACM-nominated multi-instrumentalist. The two became fast friends and, eventually, partners; their creative chemistry giving way to romance and a growing family. That partnership reached a new milestone in 2021, with the newfound parents sharpening their creative instincts and expanding their palette for Lynn's sixth album.

"A lot of people were making records during the pandemic," Lynn notes, "and all they had was time. But it was the opposite experience for us. We created this whole record while still in the fog of early parenthood, and we didn't have the luxury of waiting for lightning to strike. We had to be focused and intentional."

Striking a balance between intimate self-reflection and universal insight, Something More Than Love poses big questions over even bigger-sounding music, with tempos and layered arrangements that find Lynn at her most dynamic. Illusion opens the album with spacey synthesizers before snapping into a taut, 1980s-influenced groove, combing reverb and rhythm into a song that swoons one minute and struts the next. I'm Your Kamikaze — a deconstructed burst of indie garage-rock, heavy on melody and percussive pulse — unfolds like a salute to self-sacrifice, with Lynn dedicating her own existence to ensuring her child's flourishing. What Is This Body? finds her reassessing her ideas of physical identity and womanhood, while the album's gorgeous title track makes room for slow-burn strings and a meteoric chorus.

Together, those songs turn Lera Lynn's experience with absolute surrender — surrendering oneself to the trials and triumphs of motherhood — into a universal record about the experiences that bind us together. This isn't just Lynn's story. It's the story of a life cycle that repeats itself over and over, every termination point becoming a starting line, every death matched by a rebirth, every edge giving way to the circular slope of the ouroboros.

On High Flying Man, the third LP by Matt Berry’s pseudo-eponymous project The Berries, loss and desire take center stage. Berry delves deep into 21st century malaise, crafting densely layered songs which project an unshakable yearning for deliverance from the world’s shortcomings. Each track extends an outstretched palm towards universal connection, blending a complex of mix of pop hooks, rock swagger, and psychedelia into dejected populist anthems. Faced with the perils of an isolating world, High Flying Man reignites the tradition of great American songwriting, speaking in the voice of the longing masses. At heart, Berry demands more life, rejecting both arty cynicism and nostalgic escapism.

Berry cut his teeth at a young age playing in the bands Happy Diving (Topshelf Records) and Big Bite (Pop Wig), and has since regularly served as a touring member for bands like Angel Dust and Dark Tea. His early work with Happy Diving and Big Bite solidified his position as an upcoming star in the world of fuzzed-out indie rock, earning him tours and opening slots with the likes of Turnstile, Dinosaur Jr., Nothing, The Swirlies, and The Coathangers. With The Berries, however, Berry turns the Big Muffs down (although not off), creating sonic space to stretch his wings as a burgeoning pop songwriter. The psychedelic-surrealist textures of his earlier output are not gone, per say, but rather find themselves folded into more expansive, rock-oriented arrangements, becoming accoutrements as opposed to the driving force of each song itself.

High Flying Man follows The Berries’ previous releases, 2018’s Start All Over Again and 2019’s Berryland. While longtime listeners will undoubtedly recognize Berry’s disaffected drawl and melodic sensibility, High Flying Man’s complex arrangements and expansive sonic landscape place it well apart from its predecessors. Berry enlisted live band members Danny Paul (drums), Emma Danner (backing vocals), and Lance Umble (bass) during the recording of High Flying Man, as well as the mixing talents of Rob Schnapf (Elliott Smith, Beck, Guided by Voices), breaking from the self-produced home recording ethos of the previous Berries LPs. The collaborative nature of High Flying Man’s recording process is reflected in the quality of each song’s arrangement. Freed from the pressure of being individually responsible for every detail committed to tape, Berry was able to focus his attention more fully on the creative demands of constructing a dynamic and cohesive record. High Flying Man pivots away from any sort of obvious nod to Americana tropes, baggy British attitude, or Neil Young-esque riffing, leaning head on into a lush, idiosyncratic grandeur.

Each track evokes the irreverent and flashy style of a songwriting voice finding itself for the first time. Berry’s guitar heroics extend towards new heights, channeling the simple pop mastery of Lindsay Buckingham (“Prime”) and the wicked emotion of a 21st century “November Rain” (“High Flying Man”). Unusual stylistic juxtapositions give certain songs an almost timeless quality: Bert Jansch-esque crooning finds its counterpoint in sweeping, distortion-soaked riffs (“A Drop of Rain”), the primitive rhythms of Amon Duul are given an arena-sized, Britpop facelift (“Life’s Blood”). On High Flying Man, however, the ballad reigns supreme. “Down That Road Again” drips with sentimentality, powered by soft, undeniable pop melodies and pared-down chord progressions. Album-centerpiece “Eagle Eye” teeters between pure grace and extreme sorrow, unfolding into a massive, immediately memorable tide of melancholic beauty.

Lyrically, High Flying Man is both simple and direct. Although often bitter about the state of the world, Berry has no overtly political axe to grind. In some instances, he takes jabs at the moral laziness of aging millennials, expressing his yearning for a return to vitality and conviction (“Prime”). In other instances, Berry turns his criticism inwards, examining his longing for a better life and his repeated tendency to self-sabotage (“Down That Road Again”). These two poles balance each other out, creating a thematic tenor which is more so self-implicating and empathetic than critical. If anyone is to blame, it is the world we have been saddled with, not the people left to pick up its pieces. Although often personal, Berry’s words evoke a universal experience of continued belief in the face of loss. “High Flying Man” chronicles the growing distance between Berry and an old friend who has been shipwrecked by the weight of trauma, evoking the sorrow of trying to love someone who is no longer able to keep up with reality. Even the most somber passages of “Eagle Eye” (“long before I become aware of it, my friend/it’s 6 AM and I’m gonna die”) find their redemption in a burning devotion towards something worth living for (“If there’s one thing I can depend on/it’s my old friend/my shining light/my eagle eye”).

With High Flying Man, Matt Berry embraces undying love in the face of isolation. Daring to want more life becomes a spiritual rallying cry against a world that has failed to make life either meaningful or beautiful. At their core, these songs are not about revolution, but they are about the faith that gives something like revolution a purpose in the first place.

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Second Sub Pop album by acclaimed UK act TV Priest finds them building on the
post-punk of their early material and maturing into a powerhouse of tense, politically
caustic, and thoughtful rock music.
Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made
their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were
established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their
political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy
on its wearer’s shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. “A lot of it did feel
like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length,” says vocalist Charlie
Drinkwater. “I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take
a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the
opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest.”
Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued
press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous
outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single ‘House of York’
followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to
Sub Pop for their debut album. When ‘Uppers’ arrived in the height of a global
pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its “dystopian doublespeak,”
but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic
Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of
tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the
personal and professional landmark of its release felt “both colossal and minuscule”
dampened by the inability to share it live. “It was a real gratification and really
cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental
health,” admits Drinkwater. “I wasn’t prepared, and I hadn’t necessarily expected it to
reach as many people as it did.”
As such, ‘My Other People’ maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking
advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using ‘Saintless’ (the closing
song from ‘Uppers’) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting
lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as
a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health.
“Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would
say, particularly well,” he says. “There was a lot of things that had happened to
myself and my family that were quite troubling moments. Despite that I do think the
record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders
for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in.”
“It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something
that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful,” agrees Bueth. “Brutality and frustration are
only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the
time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening.”
This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and
an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to ‘My Other People’, a
record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you’re
welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is
a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or
any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Having initially met more than a decade ago at a local community radio station, sometimes doing guest slots on each other’s live, improvised noise shows, Cormac Culkeen and Dave Grenon knew they had a mutual interest in working with sonic textures. They listened to each other’s bands for a handful of years, and in 2017, “made good on a threat” that they’d been making for quite a long time: to start a band. At Cormac’s gentle but clear urging—declaring that they’d gone ahead and booked a space in which to record a video—the two wrote their first song, “Sebaldus,” an ambitious 12-minute trip, which also serves as the fireworks finale to their self-titled debut album. With surges of pathos that smooth out into something more soothing in turn, Cormac goes: “The hunter, you’ve seen him / The archer, his arrows are strong / And hunger, you’ve known her / I know the winter is long.” The track is as much about enduring a Canadian winter as it is about the eponymous 8th century hermit, shot through with sublimated desire. As Cormac put it, Joyful Joyful’s songs are “a little bit outside of time.” But while the lyrics beg close, oblique reading unto themselves, there’s also a distinct sense that they’re only one of many more ways that the duo shapes sound. Cormac, whose voice is like a sea with irregular tides, lights up about an idea in traditional sean-nós Irish music that songs already exist and are out there; it’s up to the singer to become the conduit. This belief in music as something to be channelled, and something more than sound, resonates with the singer’s fundamentalist religious past. To paraphrase: lots of group singing, harmonies, no instrumentation, totally unmediated, no priest, congregational—not choral, not a performance, not about talent, the spirit moves through people. “Of course that informs how I think about singing,” Cormac says. So, when they were exiled from the church because of their queerness, they took the music with them, dislocating it from its dogmatic bounds but not from its transcendent potential. This record might be thought of, then, as a kind of queering of sacred, devotional traditions—or at the very least, a space where all of these things can be held at once. Perhaps perceivable by some as contradictions, these intersecting influences create the conditions for an incredibly singular sound. Dave is steady and exploratory in his handling of this multiplicity, arranging sounds as they’re revealed, corralling them, coaxing them into form. “Because Dave is there,” Cormac says, “I get to sing three times higher, and three times lower, and faster, and backwards, and all of these sounds! That are there. They’re all there.” When asked about early musical memories, Cormac recalled an immediate fascination with harmony: from demanding that the first person they ever heard singing it explain what they were doing, to always (still, to this day) singing in harmony with their twin sister around the house, to being part of a children’s choir that sang soprano in Handel’s Messiah—not realizing until they entered the room with all the other ranges that their learned melody was but one part of the whole. Just as tellingly, Dave reflects on his early attraction to “abstraction and becoming abstract,” describing childhood afternoons messing with microphone and speaker feedback loops, producing long, enduring sounds with almost undetectable variations. In a way unique to the coalescing of these two listeners, notions of harmony are central to their output. Dave samples field recordings, old keyboards and synths, and vocal drones, running the live singing through four or five parallel effects chains, sampling and treating everything again in the moment. “Another way to put it is that Cormac’s voice comes into the board and then comes back out shifted, delayed, and shattered; Cormac and I hear it, live with it, and respond,” Dave says. This work is contingent not only on a deep intuition (neither of them read sheet music) of polyphony and due proportion (something St Thomas Aquinas famously listed as an attribute of beauty) but also on their connection to each other and ability to read subtle cues. Dave says they’d hold each other’s hands while performing if it was more convenient to do so, riffing on something else Cormac mentioned about traditional Irish singing: that someone would always hold the singer’s hand, for fear that without a tether to the ground they might find themselves utterly lost, unsure how to return. Joyful Joyful doesn’t shy away from offering such experiences of departure; they’re willing to unsettle their audiences because they themselves are unsettled. Their shared penchant for spooky, heavy music, and self-described “omnivorous” listening practices equip them with an array of sonic concepts that support this effort; Diamanda Galás, The Rankin Family, Pan Sonic, Pauline Oliveros, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Yma Sumac, and Catholic hymnody were just a few that came up. Observing their audience gives them insight about the effect of each song—something they considered while arranging the album. Its arc is marked by soft, sometimes sudden oscillations between cacophony and euphony, day and night (listen for insects), and from sexual, visceral entanglements to more ephemeral, celestial ones. Front to back, it arouses expansion, unraveling. Of lightning, Vicki Kirby writes: “quite curious initiation rites precede these electrical encounters. An intriguing communication, a sort of stuttering chatter between the ground and the sky, appears to anticipate the actual stroke.” By all accounts, something similar seems to happen at Joyful Joyful shows, between those on the stage and those off it, between what’s earthly and what’s beyond. “A lightning bolt is not a straightforward resolution of the buildup of a charge difference between the earth and a cloud … there is, as it were, some kind of nonlocal communication effected between the two,” writes Karen Barad, extrapolating on Kirby’s thought. Cormac acknowledges that while they and Dave play a role in this mysterious charge that comes about, they’re not solely responsible. However ineffable it may be, it’s undoubtedly a form of communion—and a sensuously shocking one at that

"The dazzling symphonic album he always threatened to produce" UNCUT 5/5
"A soulful symphonic masterpiece" ROLLING STONE

Originally released in Japan only on CD in 2002, Plush's Fed lives up to the cult-like adulation it has garnered ever since. A stunning symphony of Bacharach-inspired pop, Toussaint-swing andMelody Nelson-era-Gainsbourg, it's an album bound together by Liam Hayes' maverick genius, an uncompromising Brian Wilson-esque quest for sonic perfection. Positively indulgent in every way, this sumptuous record has long deserved to be treated to a deluxe vinyl edition. Lovingly overseen by Hayes and recent collaborator Pat Sansone (Wilco/The Autumn Defense), it will finally be available on the format it should've always been, this Record Store Day 2018. Remastered and presented as a double LP - cut specially at 45rpm - it comes housed in a beautiful gatefold jacket with expanded artwork throughout.

Its expansive, singular vision infamously took years to realise, involving Earth Wind & Fire's horn arranger (the legendary Tom Tom MMLXXXIV) amongst other elite personnel. Recorded with five different engineers (including Steve Albini and John McEntire), Hayes meticulously extracted every ounce of pop from each note. A long list of renowned studio ringers (including soul drummer Morris Jennings) and Chicago regulars (McEntire, Rizzo, Parker) among many others provide playing of demonstrably professional precision. As such, Hayes' complex, meandering melodies are rendered far more coherent and satisfying than they otherwise might have appeared, bringing his epic, anguished pop to a rarely seen level of perfection and depth. This unstinting dedication to the overarching vision was rewarded handsomely - artistically, at least.

However, as might have been expected, his deluxe approach resulted in a bill too steep for any American or European label to ultimately support. It has since seemed unlikely that it would see the light of day on either side of the Atlantic. Yet we were determined not to allow Hayes' lifetime achievement to go unnoticed or let music fans across the world miss out on one of the finest albums of this century.

A wide-eyed opus of stunning intensity, Fed oozes Hayes' impeccable influences without ever becoming overwhelmed by them. Incredibly, it touches upon Blaxploitation soul, Boz Scaggs-soft-rock, hints of jazz and blues, timeless baroque and skewed pop. In one long minute, the stabbing, soulful "So Blind" moves through five different melodic segments, horns shift easily from haunting backdrop to explosive forefront, smoothly giving way to strings as Hayes' voice casts its bewitching spell. The ambitious soul of "Having It All" has been described as the diffident cousin of Marvin Gaye's "Save The Children" whilst the breezy "Greyhound Bus Station" is pure 70s AM Gold, evoking the easy warmth of Jimmy Webb's beloved Land's End period. The sublime resignation of "No Education", a beautifully slow number that begins, "Never read a book in my life/ But I feel just fine" is post-rock ballad heaven. Arriving towards the end, the title track arrives as a majestic suite, moving from a horn-and-guitar-led instrumental via shifting melodies to Hayes' compelling vocal bursts.

An album of such brilliance, Fed can comfortably sit alongside such staggering statement pieces as David Bowie's Young Americans, Randy Newman's 12 Songs or Harry Nilsson's Nilsson Schmilsson. Indeed, for all the sprawling elements that went in - lengthy guitar builds, exploding horn sections, solemn strings, female backup chorus - it is a deeply personal and original record. Employing a distinct "more is more" aesthetic, he demonstrates remarkable restraint in producing an album of such intimacy. "My creation has drowned me," he memorably sings on languid opener "Whose Blues", yet he navigates the shifting styles and ideas with enviable ease.

The Howling is a collaborative project started by writer Ken Hollings and sound artist Howlround devoted exclusively to their shared love of text, audiotape and trash aesthetics. An intense collision of spoken word and analogue tape effects, the Howling's first performance took place at the Iklectik in September 2019 as part of a special programme to celebrate The Tapeworm's 10th anniversary.

Despite the pandemic, they have managed to continue working and conferring together since then, sharing sound files, texts and mixes online, which has resulted in All Hail Mega Force, their first full-length release for The Tapeworm. The two extended tracks contained on this audiocassette reflect their shared interest in Fluxus and how informal rules and permutations can be set up to work themselves out through loops and repetitions. A straight line connects Terry Riley's tape experiments in Paris from the early 60s with their experimental recordings in the Wimpy Bar on Streatham High Road, one of their favourite meeting places. 'The idea of instant, disposable one-off creations appealed to us a lot at the time,' The Howling explain, 'particularly as both pieces were conceived and developed during different phases of Covid lockdown in the UK.'

The title and source material are derived from the kid's adventure movie MegaForce, starring Barry Bostwik and Michael Beck. Designed to sell a range of Mattel hi-tech action toys, MegaForce tanked at the box office but lives on in the collective consciousness of those who share with The Howling a special love for Trash and Trash Aesthetics.

The two tracks also share similarities in approach and realization.

'All Hail Mega Force' was created by reading combinations of the words 'All Hail Mega Force' into a voice memo recorder, transferring it to tape, cutting the whole thing as a single long loop and then stretching it across three reel-to-reel machines simultaneously, using two pencils and a pint glass full of loose change to try and maintain sufficient playback tension. Over time the loop started to degrade, which accounts for the increasingly slurry and unpredictable playback, plus frequent ruptures caused by the tape becoming jammed and having to be tugged through the machine workings by hand. Twenty-four minutes later and the result was a completed new work and a slight backache.

The text for 'Are You Man Enough For Mega Force?' was recorded live in the Wimpy Bar on Streatham High Road, 28 November 2021. It was cut to tape and looped on 3 December 2021 at Warrior Studios, Loughborough Junction. Dragged by motor and then by hand across two tape machines with copious amounts of closed input feedback provided by a third rushing in to fill the gaps. One take with no effects or overdubs, but one tiny edit in the middle when something fell over.

On their third album »Constant Connection«, West Australian-based Erasers create hypnotic compositions of synth, guitar and voice, evoking the vast expanse of their native landscape and the shrouded emotions behind the senses. Comprising of vocalist, synth player Rebecca Orchard and Rupert Thomas on guitar and synths, Erasers have developed their earthly kosmische music into an open language based on drone, variation in repetition and minimal song structures. Based in Perth, regarded one of the most isolated cities in the world, Orchard and Thomas’s music has brewed in the city’s vibrant DIY/Outsider community and evolved into a meditation on landscape, power, the shadow-world of human emotions and stream of consciousness. »Constant Connection«, with its waves of sound and chant-like vocals evokes a trance that suggests an infinity just beyond the senses.

At the heart of each Erasers composition is the interplay between the instrumentation, played with stoic restraint and recorded directly with minimal effects and the transcendental states induced in the listener. It’s a magic that is performed in plain sight and all the more powerful for it. The recognisable vibrato of Fender Rhodes keyboards and simple drum machine loops, the subtle strands of analog synth melodies that snake in and out of the ear, above all the towering encantations of Rebecca Orchard’s undeniably Australian-accented hymns; all of this is presented with minimal ostentation and yet it instantly engenders a dream state, hints at an infinity beyond the material.

Shades of John Cale’s 70s work with Nico, early 70s German synthesists Kluster and even fellow Australians Fabulous Diamonds can be seen as stylistic touchstones for Constant Connection. Where Nico hinted at the macabre and gothic, Rebecca Orchard’s similarly gliding vocal is more zoned in to a kind of oceanic openness, with words becoming chants and spells that suggested themselves to the singer during recording sessions. It’s this hidden hand of improvisatory, automatic writing that lends a sense of expanse to the music. On opener I Understand, while the lyrics might hint at discontent the emotional spectrum it opens up is far more rich and complex, as layered as the waves of droning chords that are the bedrock of each Erasers track. The title track talks of flow, continuum and balance, the protagonist in the song seemingly weightless, gently pulled through a walking reality that borders on dream. In Erasers’ world, it seems, the borders between reality and dream, consciousness and sub-consciousness are blurred and eroded.

On Constant Connection, Erasers’ music might be deeply evocative of landscape but it’s never clear which one. The vast, open terrain that surrounds Perth is dusty, burned by the sun into desert and Constant Connection feels like the product of the heat and relative isolation, the altered states these elements can create. But it’s these altered states of mind that appear to be the real landscape described by Erasers. It’s a landscape that’s hazy, in-and-out of focus, with emotional undertows pushing and pulling you into a weightlessness. On album closer Easy To See the band dispense with percussion all together, field recordings of the water at the edge of their native city ushering in two duetting synths. Orchard’s vocal undulates with the flow, viewing both the geographical and psychological landscape from the perspective of a consciousness not bound by bodies and from a timescale measured in millennia. The album ends as it begins, with field recordings of the real world that the music seeps out from, temporarily, before regressing back into the other realm it feels like it belongs to.

Between these two recorded hints of reality, Erasers manifest a deeply sensual dreamscape that constantly feels like it’s dissolving at its seams. A desert psychedelia emanating from a real world that might not be that real in the first place.

LP, 150 copies with screen printed artwork Behind Teahouse Radio is Pär Boström… a Swedish ambient musician, visual artist, label/publishing house owner. Together with his sister (also musical partner in crime) he runs the label/publishing house Hypnagoga Press. Most of his music projects are released on this label. But his work has also already found its way to well known labels such as Cyclic Law and Cryo Chamber. Teahouse Radio is one of the many projects by Pär Boström and most lo-fi and to my ears the most melancholy… and thus fitting Vrystaete very well… In 2018 the debut album (and only album so far) “Her Quiet Garden” was released on CD in an edition of 100 copies on Hypnagoga Press. Here (and below) you have a really nice video on the process of the music and artwork being created… The songs themselves were composed from 2004 onwards with intervals and recorded in a few days during late summer 2016. This 2LP vinyl edition of “Her Quiet Garden” captures the delicate, fragile and minimalist soundscapes very well… and features three additional pieces from the same sessions which were never released before… Expect acoustic instruments that are blended with electronic equipment, forming a sombre ambient music of tinkling tape loops and humming pedal drones… like Gurdjieff meets Eno in some sort of way… And… it is also a very personal album and any listener who sits back and pays true attention will witness and experience this. This is what the musician himself says about the album: An album about summer houses and winter towers, about the changing of weather. How one feeling changes to another. The loss of a loved cat. A real garden becoming an imaginary garden. Depression as a pond. Years of therapy and music as the main counterpoint. About escapism. Psychoses. A giant who walked in and out of the world, decorating it nicely. An aural tale. Half in water, another half in the northern woods. Childhood through nostalgic binoculars. A wardrobe to another place, a gentle knock on the door in the oak tree.

7" Black Vinyl limited to 1000 copies.

Teenagehood, brotherhood and a genuine love for alternative music has united THE GOA EXPRESS from the off. Hailing from the industrial town of Burnley and adopted by the Manchester culture carriers, their teenage years can be viewed as something of a hedonistic pilgrimage into the underbelly of suburban rock and roll- their first gig having been 3 songs blasted out their mates garage, the next on top of a local vintage shop where the floor nearly caved in: “when there’s fuck all, you make do with what you got”. The intensity of this friendship has resulted in the occasional bust up along the way, yet it only adds to the burning chemistry that the band offer on record and on stage. Together, brothers James Douglas Clarke (Guitar + Vocals) and Joe Clarke (Keys), along with Joey Stein (Lead Guitar), Naham Muzaffar (Bass) and Sam Launder (Drums) all contribute to a fuzzy wall of diverse sound, becoming harder to pin down with their constantly evolving, psych-umbrella’d, rock and roll. What sets THE GOA EXPRESS apart from other musicians who sit comfortably within scenes is that their identity as a band has been growing organically long before the 5 of them decided to pick up instruments and teach themselves art of killing time. Their genuine joy in the everyday; their attitude and antics seem to hark back to the glory days of the NME- if they talk about a night out, you want to be there because these lads ooze charm and wreak havoc. This purist, old school approach to creating music through unified experiences and stimulated good times is married with the plain fact that they are very much young people of this generation, and while they see its flaws its hyperreality, its sheep-like tendencies, they still understand the importance in the immediacy of pop music: of a banging riff, or a glorious chorus and how effective this can truly be, and they want everyone along for the ride. With influences ranging from Spacemen 3 and The Brian Jonestown Massacre to French existentialism, from Beat Literature to long hours working at the Bookies to the journey into the sunrise on the night bus home, it is their ability to be all these things at once which makes THE GOA EXPRESS a guitar band for the 21st Century. Nothing is ever a compromise because they are so unapologetically themselves in everything they do- proud Northerners with a DIY foundation that aren’t afraid to look into the often dim future and see themselves shining brightly in it, unforgiving and unpretentious. So far, the band have released 3 singles with great success. The first: ‘Be My Friend’, produced by Ross Orton right next Sheffield’s famous ‘City Sauna’ brothel, presents itself to us as a cheeky, snarling pop song, holding undertones of raw cynicism laden with psychedelic sunshine. Ross Orton’s studio was also right next door to where the band recorded their last single ‘The Day’ with Nathan Saoudi of Fat White Family at ‘Champ Zone.’ Both these producers have been able to give these instant pop classics a grittier feel, capturing the essence of the unfettered lifestyle the band were living at the time that they were able to capture themselves in the music video for ‘Be My Friend’. After signing with Ra-Ra Rok, (WU-LU/Bingo Fury) the band released anthemic summer hit ‘Second Time’, that went straight to the 6 music B-List before quickly heading up to the A-List 2 for 2 weeks. This was followed by the release of its B-Side ‘Overpass’ that almost immediately caught the eyes and ears of BBC Radio 1’s Jack Saunders, who had the band on his ‘Next Wave’ Segment. Closing the year that saw them play to 1000 strong crowds at festivals like Latitude & End of the Road, the band headlined their biggest headline show to date at Manchester’s Gorilla. Its fair to say that this really is only the beginning.

Berlin’s Pure Hate drops it’s first release for 2022 from California’s EAS. The ‘Step Beyond EP’ consists of 3 original tracks plus 2 remixes from Keepsakes & Slave To Society. EAS is a Southern California based Techno producer and co-owner of Tympanum Records. Involved in the ever-growing Los Angeles Techno scene, Emmanuel Andreas Santamarina is an artist that experiments with a multitudinous array of styles. Having featured on the Perc Trax Remixes EP in 2021 with his huge remix of Perc’s ‘Dumpster’ his productions are fast becoming in demand. On remix duty this time are Haven label boss Keepsakes who strips back lead track ‘Step Beyond’ into a more Jackin groove aimed squarely at the dance floor, while Slave To Society heads deep into the realm of Industrial Jungle & Breakcore territory with his remix of ‘Take Your Position’

Les Disques du Crepuscule presents a new double vinyl remaster of two seminal albums by German synth wave pioneers Gina X Performance, whose groundbreaking singles Nice Mover, No G.D.M. and Kaddish remain enduring electroclash staples after four decades of club supremacy.

Remastered for vinyl in 2021 by Zeus B. Held and Lars Lafeyette Fassbender, the double album set is housed in a gatefold sleeve with new artwork and pressed on clear and green vinyl + digital copy. This pressing is limited to 1000 copies only worldwide. The inner sleeve features a brand new interview with Zeus.


Formed in Cologne in 1978, the core of Gina X Performance composed vocalist Gina Kikoine and producer/keyboard/vocoder wizard Zeus B. Held. ‘I had in mind science fiction-inspired tracks,’ explains Zeus.‘Really cold sounding music, with no blues-ey chords or melodies, no guitar and nothing rocky.’

Originally issued on German imprint Crystal 1979, icy, noirish debut album Nice Mover spawned two radical Eurodisco hits, with gender-bending single No G.D.M. becoming a firm favourite at the legendary Blitz Club in London’s Soho. At the same time Zeus B. Held also became an in-demandproducer, working with John Foxx, Fashion, Rockets and Dead or Alive.

The third GXP long player, Voyeur, from 1981, followed a brief spell on EMI and saw the duo return to their experimental, avant-gardist roots, the material by turns seductive, provocative and confrontational. Since then countless electronic artists have acknowledged or betrayed the influence of Gina X Performance, including Depeche Mode, Propaganda, Ladytron and Peaches.
Critical praise for Gina X Performance: “Pioneering electro-pop from 1979 with hints of Kraftwerk, Nico and Studio 54-era Grace Jones” (Mojo); “Like an artier Moroder” (Uncut); “No G.D.M. is one of the most influential songs to come out of the Continent” (Q); “Disco for the intellect” (NME)

High Focus ​Records linchpin ​Fliptrix announces his 8th solo album ​‘Light Work’. The 16-track project is a complete representation of ​Fliptrix as both an artist as well as reflecting the person behind the artistry. The album tackles deep rooted issues within society, the current state of the world as well as portraying an overarching message of peace, openness and optimism.

“Light Work is the culmination of years of experience, emotion, research and love. Crafted to heal, fulfil my desire to create and further raise vibrations.”

The London born, Brighton based lyricist’ creative CV has become one of legends. His long-standing trade as a solo artist is paired with him being one-quarter of the acclaimed collective ​The Four Owls (Big Owl)​, adding in Founder and Director of ​High Focus Records and not to forget becoming a first-time dad earlier this year. Operating at this level has been achieved by years of self-development and his mission is to pay it all forward.

Both Fliptrix and High Focus Records have been irreplaceable cogs in the UK HipHop machine for well over a decade. He and the label have been there for the hard times and the glory days but have never sought out fame or verification. Albums such as ​‘The Road To The Interdimensional Piff Highway’ and ​‘Patterns Of Escapism’ ​were pioneering amongst peers and resulted in multiple global tours and a dedicated fanbase across the world.

Kicking off the album is the title track ​‘Light Work’ which starts with faded, eerie laughter whilst Fliptrix unleashes a barrage of flows ending with “DMT be elevating my consciousness​”​. An introspective cut,

‘Light Work’ expresses his undeniable passion for his craft whilst tackling personal demons and overcoming them through altered states of consciousness. ‘​Multicolour’ paints a raw psychedelic picture and encourages us to think outside the box and not take everything for face value. His vivid storytelling continues throughout with feelings of being burnt out expressed in ‘​Broken Glass​’ whilst ​‘Powerizm’ ​switches up the tempo and he conveys his daily grind whilst paying homage to his fallen friend and legendary London graffiti artist ‘POW’ as well as his recently born first child. Tracks ‘​Problem, Reaction, Solution & ​The Realisation Part 2​, tackle the world's current situation head-on with a no holds barred viewpoint. Coming full circle, ​Fliptrix closes the project with ‘​Vibes’​ which is full of positivity and hope.

No stranger to talking openly about his mind-altering experiences, spirituality, quest for knowledge and dedication to the exploration of consciousness, Fliptrix’s raw flow and intricate lyricism perfectly portray the albums hard hitting narratives and set him apart from the rest of the scene. Self-reflection, personal improvement, determination and revolution are at the core of ​‘Light Work’ and they come together harmoniously under one roof.

Repressed !

Hear & Now's Story Is One Of Friendship And A Shared Passion For Music. It Began With A Chance Meeting On The Dancefoor At Red Zone In Perugia, One Of Italy's Most Legendary Clubs
Of The 1990s. Nearly Three Decades On, These Glassy-eyed Clubbers Have Joined Forces To Deliver One Of The Most Magical And Sun-kissed Albums That Claremont 56 Has Ever Released. By The Time Ricky L And Marcoradi Frst Joined Forces In The Studio In 2016, Both Had Become Established Producers Within Italy's Vibrant Deep House Scene. Between Them, They'd Released Records And Remixes On Such Labels As Ibadan, Uomo, Reincarnation, Top Tracks, Restricted
Tracks And Vega. Keen To Step Away From The Dancefoor, They Decided To Simply Create Beautiful Music For Bleary-eyed After-hours Sofa Sessions, Lazy Summer Afternoons And Early
Mornings Spent Blinking At The Rising Sun.
Aurora Baleare, Their Debut Album, Follows On From A Fantastic Double A-side 12' For Claremont 56 In February 2017. Those Two Tracks Take Pride Of Place Amongst An Eight-track Selection Simply Brimming With Evocative Workouts, Gentle Soundscapes And Noon-bright Sonic Bliss. While You'll Fnd Luscious Instrumental Cuts Designed To Inspire Baggy, Glassy-eyed Shuffing - See The Mid-tempo, Spine-tingling Brilliance Of salsedine', Mind-massaging hirundo' And Dreamy Slow-house Treat sabbia Magica' - It's The Effortless Brilliance Of Marcoradi's Improvised Guitar Playing And The Duo's tmospheric Approach That Really Catches The Ear.
Check, For Example, The Heady Horizontal Shuffe Of trasimeno', Where Poignant Ambient Chords, Jazzy Electric Guitar Solos And Deep Space Electronics Tumble Down Over Shuffing Beats And A Squeezable Synthesizer Bassline, And The Sun-down Adriatic Wonder Of stella Dei Venti', A Track So Effortlessly Loved-up And Blissful That You Might Be Overcome By Emotion (it Certainly Had Us Daydreaming Of Days Spent Exploring The Intense Natural Beauty Of Italy's Adriatic Coast).
Moments Like This, Where The Duo's Dreamy Electronics And Smile-inducing Melodies Seemingly Shimmer Across The Sound Spectrum, Can Be Found Dotted Throughout Aurora Baleare. There's The Darting Digital Synthesizer Motifs, Sparse Hand Percussion And Ricocheting Solos Of airone', The Italo-disco-inspired Chugging Positivity Of la Marsa' And The Title Track's Humid Beachside Breeze, Where Intertwined Electronic And Acoustic Lead Lines Seemingly Glimmer Like Rays Of Sunshine Bouncing Off The Surface Of A Becalmed, Crystal Clear Ocean. Their Roots May Be On The Dancefoor, But Hear & Now Are Fast Becoming Down Tempo Masters. You Can Dance If You Want To, But You May Just Want To Hug A Stranger Instead.

Tripe. It’s what graces the cover of Cassels’ third album, A Gut Feeling. It looks gross. And Cassels are a rock band who’ve often sounded gross. You know the adjectives. ‘Discordant’. ‘Angular’. ‘Cynical’. Shellac quickly mentioned. I’ve done it already, see?Listening to A Gut Feeling, though, Cassels sound different. Not too different – the molten riff of advance single ‘Mr Henderson Coughs’ puts paid to the idea that the London-based duo have taken a hard 180. But instead of writing as quickly as possible, riding the churn forced on DIY bands by an indifferent ecosystem, the Covid-19 pandemic gave the brothers Beck (Jim, guitar/vocals, and Loz, drums/BVs) some time to mull things over. Instead of sticking with the stripped-back recording approach of previous LPs, Jim and Loz spent time at Tom Hill’s Bookhouse Studios in South London, considering tone, layering tracks, and bringing new instruments into the fold. Lyrically, the approach has changed too. Rather than presented as personal experience, Jim notes that his words this time around “are an intentionally muddy mix of experience, opinion, red herrings and fiction,” adding, “I found that setting myself the brief of writing character pieces offered a nice way of sneaking quite personal things into the songs without being explicitly autobiographical.” The result is the most satisfying and unexpected collection of songs in the Cassels catalogue. Instruments at turns razor-sharp and bludgeon-blunt provide the backing track to a savage, hilarious, and tender collection of short stories. Jim notes that “writing can be a great way of unearthing hang-ups and becoming acquainted with your own anxieties”. Hardly new ground for a rock band, but presented in this third person format – unbiased and filled to the brim with human warmth – these songs are more empathetic than anything the band have written before. You might have been Michael on his daily commute. Perhaps you’re Sarah, or have a mum like her. And many of us will recognise ourselves in the heart-breaking ‘Family Visits Relative’. It’s clear that the band still aren’t afraid to tackle weighty subjects too, with A Gut Feeling picking up where their previous album, The Perfect Ending, left off. ‘Charlie Goes Skiing’ pulls a similar trick to Future of the Left’s ‘Goals in Slow Motion’ – setting a screed against consumerism to one of the most propulsive, catchy tracks on the record. It’s followed by ‘Dog Drops Bone’, a rustling loop overlaid with sad, simple chords reminiscent of a Sparklehorse tune, which uses the internal monologue of a beloved canine companion to question the true depth and sincerity of human relationships. This kicks into the breakneck ‘Beth’s Recurring Dream’ – a track exploring a sexual identity crisis which owes as much to early Los Campesinos! as it does Steve Albini. Of ‘Your Humble Narrator’, the album’s punishing, pulsing opener and A Gut Feeling’s thematic frame, Jim explains: “I liked the idea of introducing an unreliable narrator who frames the album as an exercise in manipulation for personal gain. When a person engages with a piece of art they are invariably being manipulated by the artist to some degree – that’s part of the fun. The artist aims to elicit some sort of emotional response, the audience buys into the conceit at the promise of experiencing some form of escape.” as listeners, we experience that manipulation first-hand on A Gut Feeling. But the fact Cassels have packaged it up as offal feels like another bleak wink. This is far from a stinking by-product, salvaged and sold to maximise profit. It’s nothing less than the most complete, relatable, and fully realised piece of art the duo has produced to date. Emotional response elicited. Conceit embraced.

Duane Pitre returns to Imprec with Omniscient Voices, an articulate, intense and emotionally resonant set of five pieces for justly tuned piano and electronics.

Omniscient Voices is a uniquely distinct work that follows Pitre's trilogy of releases which culminated with 2015’s Bayou Electric and included the critically acclaimed Feel Free (2012) and Bridges (2013) albums. Where those albums were rooted in long form pieces, Omniscient Voices is a collection of shorter pieces, offering more harmonic variety than previous works, with a unique sound and feel that is still unmistakably the work of Duane Pitre.

In 2019, after a five year period where Pitre did not focus on outward facing music, but instead on his own personal practice, a small idea in the form of a question came to him: would the combination of his latest computer- and electronic-based experiments, used in conjunction with justly tuned piano, produce interesting results; simply put, would it “work”? Concurrently, Pitre was studying a handful of Morton Feldman scores for their focus on tonal clusters, reading a book on Arvo Pärt’s life and work, and contemplating the pulse-based rhythms of Steve Reich and Phillip Glass.

In 2020, with no intention of making a new album, the composer tried to answer this question. The results would spawn five pieces that would become Omniscient Voices. On this new work, Pitre finds himself giving equal priority to both piano and electronics, utilizing his Max/MSP-based generative network to real-time convert precomposed piano motifs, into data, which is then used to communicate with two polyphonic, microtonal hardware synthesizers whose patches Pitre authored; this process generates the electronic component of the album. Pitre also utilizes controlled improvisation to interact with the piano-reactive electronics in a spontaneous and inspired manner, going back and forth between these two pianistic approaches. In all, this approach creates a “musical feedback loop” of sorts.

Despite Omniscient Voices being the culmination of 15 years of hard work and inspiration, this beautiful album somehow materialized in a natural, intuitive and effortless way (like any artist's best work.)

Artist's statement: “When making the pieces that would become Omniscient Voices, I often viewed the piano as human action, a single note becoming a single gesture that has the potential to change the electronic environment, the electronics becoming the environment surrounding that human in the natural world, who then has the power to change their actions based on their surroundings. All actions have consequences. The interconnectedness of everything. Single actions making waves of change.”

RIYL: Arvo Pärt, Morton Feldman, Steve Reich, Phillip Glass
Mastered and cut by Golden and pressed at RTI for maximum fidelity.

strumentalist Teddy Lasry's story is noteworthy not just in regards to the music he released, but in the ways approached the craft of composing and experimenting with sounds and sonics.
Always intrigued with the capabilities of instruments, their groove and their feel, it was very much his family’s influence that helped to fuel these life long affections. As a performer in a parisien cabaret, Teddy’s father Jacques would mingle with giants like Serge
Gainsbourg and Charlie Chaplin (impressed by his ability to improvise, Chaplin wanted him to become his accompanist, but the pianist politely refused). Jacques and his wife (Teddy’s mother Yvonne), would later become members of the innovative experimental group Les Structures Sonores, and surround their children’s lives with sounds. Electronic music was still in its infancy and Les Structures Sonores, with their resonators that produced long, mysterious tones, were deemed ‘cosmic’. It was the era of the launching of the first Russian Sputnik and every time a radio or television station wanted music for their science fiction programs, they turned to one of their compositions. Showing a natural ability with multi instrumentalism, Teddy was rewarded with a spot in the band, allowing him to really explore unconventional methods of composition.
Following a brief stint with Ariane Mnouchkine's avant-garde Théâtre du Soleil after graduating school, Teddy joined the pioneering prog band Magma, with whom he would record three groundbreaking records during the early 1970s (According to former member
Laurent Thibault, their album Mëkanïk Dëstruktïẁ Kömmandöh and its sound were strong influences on David Bowie during the recording
of Low and Iggy Pop’s The Idiot at Hérouville). Despite the successes with these projects, Teddy was constantly searching for new ways
of expressing himself through music, leading him into the beginnings of a solo career that would last the better part of three decades.
Teddy’s transition into his solo career came with contrasting fortunes, in that he was now becoming a music to image composer but with the unfortunate realisation that his eyesight was gradually worsening (due to being diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa at an early age). Nonetheless, his solo career would begin in 1975, and for the rest of the decade his sound would become increasingly mired in electrified Funk-Fusion and its endless sonic possibilities. The resulting music would serve to highlight Teddy’s love affair with the possibilities found within tireless instrumentation, with the flute and particularly synthesisers becoming a mini-obession of his (he once spent a 7,000 Francs loan, which was meant to be spent on fixing his roof, on synths).
To this day Teddy continues to record and experiment with music, a passion which in many ways has never left his sid, even at the age of 75. His career was one that was fuelled by innate curiosity and an intrinsic desire to discover new methods of expressionism, be it through the realms of Jazz-Funk, ambient electronics, Swing music or indeed through the medium of instrumentation itself. On this compilation, we look to encapsulate the essence of his innovative sound, and from start to finish a sense of his ingenious approach to composing structure and mood is made abundantly clear. The funk-jazz fusion style that embodied the majority of his 70s work is on full display here, with the vibrant flute driven "Los Angeles", the Miles Davis inspired "Blue Theme", the progressive and driving
"Chamonix", and the deeply intricate "Krazy Kat", along with one of his finest 80s slow jams, "Funky Ghost". Two cuts off the ‘Back To
Amazonia’ album are also featured (Teddy’s last album including his Prophet T8, Yamaha DX7 and Oberheim drum machines). "Raising
Sun in Bali" and the title piece both emphasise an ever present passion for synthesisers. "Birds of Space", a standout track off the e=mc2 album, closes the comp, and is a fitting way to end this journey.
Pulled together in close collaboration with Teddy and his family, this collection of songs looks to introduce new listeners to his work and we are proud to present this limited and carefully remastered compilation on vinyl, including extensive liner notes.

No other pairing in the history of Darkwave ever matched the unfettered creativity, resolve, and DIY attitude from the collaboration between the two creative minds that compromise Lebanon Hanover.

The meeting of the Swiss musician Larissa Georgiou, aka Larissa Iceglass and British artist William Maybelline a decade ago in the latter’s hometown of Sunderland in the UK, was a monumental occasion, reverberating throughout the European music scene and even across the Atlantic.

Lebanon Hanover would emerge from the peak of the world-wide minimal wave revival, with their 2011 split 7-inch record with La Fete Triste issued as the catalog debut of Europe’s most ubiquitous Techno-Industrial EBM labels, Aufnahme + Wiedergabe

With Berlin as their new physical home, William and Larissa would soon, however, join the Fabrika Records family. From here, they would go on to release two full-length albums through the Athens based label, starting in early 2012 with their winter debut LP The World Is Getting Colder, and it’s All Hallows Eve follow up Why Not Just Be Solo.

It was Lebanon Hanover’s 2013 third studio outing Tomb for Two that would go on to cement the duo’s legacy, with the album’s single “Gallow Dance” becoming a post-punk anthem for the times, with artwork became the band’s defacto logo. Not only that, the song “Sadness is Rebellion”, also featured on the album, became the band’s official Mantra.

Two years would pass before the release of 2015’s critically acclaimed fourth record, “Besides the Abyss”. In the intervening years, William and Larissa, initially a couple, would find other partners, and relocate to Athens.

Meanwhile, Lebanon Hanover as a live act would expand rapidly in popularity, exceeding capacity during their performances at Wave Gotik Treffen in Leipzig, and performing sold-out shows across Europe and the UK.

With the playful Babes of the 80s maxi-single released in the interim, three years would pass before the next record from Lebanon Hanover, with 2018’s Let Them Be Alien, the band’s fifth studio album.

At the dawn of the global pandemic, where dystopian nightmares that were only ever seen before within the pages of books and flashes of silver screen celluloid, has become a daily reality, a new kind of darkness envelops the world. It was at this Lebanon Hanover returned, sharing a glimmer of hope with the single “The Last Thing,” the duo’s first song from their forthcoming sixth studio album Sci-Fi Sky.

Spanning an epic journey across ten tracks that wander through industrial landscapes, and ascend beyond the atmospheric aether, Sci Fi Sky is Lebanon Hanover’s most cohesive artistic statement to date. With their icy hearts on their sleeves, this is the culmination of a decade’s worth of musical creativity radiating from the minds of both Iceglass and Maybelline, and altogether an otherworldly beacon of hope in a time of sheer darkness.

Does returning to a place have a sound? Can the ear have a memory? And what if places which we return to are just empty shells? Choreographed rooms which we need to play, fill from scratch each time with fragments from the past and present, layer upon layer, familiar and still somehow always new and differently assembled. Paula Schopf’s Espacios en Soledad are acoustic walks around present day Santiago de Chile, the city where she was born - which she always left, had to leave and to which she always returns - but more than anything also through her own memories which resonate throughout the public places, squares, streets though still in their own way remain strange.

„Every immigrant in the world has a piece like this - a kind of missing link, something which is incomplete. And every time one returns to the home country you are looking for it. For me it was a matter of sound.“ (Paula 2019).

In the mid 70s leaving Santiago was a flight of exile as a child with her family. Leaving in 1990 was an autonomous decision to head for Europe, Berlin, where the wall fell, where the heavens opened up all at once and electronic music became a kind of new home to so many. Paula Schopf belonged there. For her the Ocean Club at Tresor club was a central place where friends and mentors like Gudrun Gut and Thomas Fehlmann made it possible for her to get really into it. Dancing, being and feeling your body, forgetting oneself in the bass and beats, who one is and where one’s from, to becoming the DJ Chica Paula. Chile was very far away during this time, Latin America was more just a code, a musical and habitual cliche to be cautious of. This was especially true for the culture of the Chilean exile, the pathos of the “Canto Nuevo”, the sound and ideologically charged instruments of the „música andina“, for example the Zampoña, Quena or Charango. Techno was the greatest thinkable alternative to this even if or perhaps because so many kids exiled from Chile became key figures in the German and European scene: Ricardo Villalobos, Dandy Jack, Cristian Vogel, Matias Aguayo and many more.

How does returning to a place sound? Does the ear have its own memory? The field recordings which were recorded in Santiago de Chile in 2016 and form the central sonic material for Espacios en Soledad represent the paradox for Schopf’s return to her home country after emigrating: the inevitable drifting apart of her own lived time from that of her former home. Already the Venezuelan and Colombian hawkers are unmistakable signs of the deep change in Chilean society which has happened in recent years due to immigration. Which is in contrast to the old lady who sits on the floor in a pedestrian zone and without break sings the same three songs by Violeta Parra and then keeps falling asleep while doing so. The fragile presence of her voice is joined with a repertoire which is almost mythologically timeless in Chile in a particularly moving way.

By layering, ordering and conjoining such found sounds from modern day Santiago this piece become about the urban sound of Chile’s present. But more than anything by doing this Paula Schopf becomes an arranger of her own sonic memory or sound-triggered memories of returning to this city. Just as techno and Berlin helped her for such a long time to get away from too strong of an identification as a Chilean in exil, now with Espacios en Soledad she has found a way to bring these two seemingly disparate lives and remembered worlds together.

Matthias Pasdzierny

Over the course of the decade, Meatbodies’ Chad Ubovich has been
a perennial candidate for MVP of West Coast’s fertile rock scene. The
LA native could be seen peeling off guitar solos in Mikal Cronin’s
backing band, supplying the Sabbath-sized low end for Ty Segall and
Charlie Moothart as the bassist for Fuzz, and, of course, fronting his
own Meatbodies. Today the recently dormant experimental noise /
freak-rock outfit has announced their return with 333—a corrosive
stew of guitar scuzz, raw acoustic rave-ups, and primitive
electronics that charts Ubovich’s journey from drug-induced darkness
to clear-eyed sobriety. 333 simultaneously reflects on how the world
he re-entered was still pretty messed up—if not more so. “These lyrics
are dark, but I think these are things that a lot of people are feeling
and going through” he says. “Here in America, we’re watching the
fall of U.S. capitalism, and 333 is a cartoonish representation of that
decline.”
In mid to late 2019, the band—Ubovich and drummer Dylan
Fujioka—had a new album in the can, ready to be mixed. But
when COVID hit, like so many other artists, they put their release
on hold as they rode out the pandemic’s first wave. During that idle
time, Ubovich discovered a cache of demos that he and Fujioka had
recorded in a bedroom back in the summer of 2018, and he really liked
what he heard. In contrast to Meatbodies’ typical full-band attack, it
was deliriously disordered. “It sounded gross, like a scary Magical
Mystery Tour,” he recalls proudly. After subjecting them to some
mixing-board freakery, Ubovich fast-tracked the songs into becoming
this third release of theirs, 333. It proves Meatbodies have greatly
expanded their palette, opening new portals to explore. And for an
album that wasn’t supposed to exist, 333 is the ultimate testament to
Meatbodies’ renewed vitality.

When Peter Rosenberg was hired by Hot 97 in July of 2007 his task was simple. His Sunday night show “Real Late” was to be a place where independent, underground, and boom bap artists could be featured. Rosenberg leaned into the gig and artists and fans, new and old, took note. In the years that followed Rosenberg world premiered music from future superstars such as Action Bronson, Joey Badass, A$AP Rocky, Childish Gambino, Frank Ocean, Tyler the Creator, Earl Sweatshirt, Travis Scott and countless more. He also became a star of Hot 97’s Morning Drive radio show, held a yearly concert to celebrate his favorite artists, and put out mixtapes in 2010, 2011, and 2013 that broke new music from a variety of these up and comers, including originals from Kendrick Lamar, Bronson, Badass, ASAP Rocky and Ferg, to name a few. Since 2013 Rosenberg has expanded his broadcasting range. He was hired by ESPN and instantly made an impact as a new cohost on “The Michael Kay Show.” Since arriving in 2015, the show has consistently grown in popularity and in 2019 reached the top of drive time ratings. Rosenberg’s passion for sports entertainment also led to him becoming a fixture on WWE pay per view events. It would have been easy to assume that Rosenberg’s next move would be a pivot away from underground music all together. Not so fast. As the pandemic hit, Rosenberg went back to his roots. He decided the time was right to finally put together an official album and in doing so he tapped some of the best artists in hip hop, from legends to newcomers, to put together a complete body of work aptly named after the late night show that put him on the map in the first place. Peter said: “I have considered making an album for years but it really was the pandemic that got me focused and led to me finally creating “Real Late”. I thought this was the perfect time to put together legends, new artists, and underground producers to create a project that sounded like my show “Real Late” on Hot 97. I was fortunate enough to get help from some amazingly talented people and the result is an album that I think truly represents the hip hop that I and so many others love.“ Features guest performances from Westside Gunn, Roc Marciano, Styles P, Smoke DZA, Method Man, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, Flee Lord, Stove God Cook$, Eto, Willie the Kid, Meyhem, Buckwild, Crimeapple, Jim Jones, Rasheed Chappell, Homeboy Sandman and more!

CREATIVE CONTEXT ON SINGLE 1 - “Misery’s A Muse"
"I had a demo of a song Billy put together that he had no home for but decided to share with
me to get my thoughts on it. I happened to be in the studio with another band and took
advantage of some of the time I had blocked out to track vocals to this song idea for kicks.
What's interesting is the demo vocals is what made the cut on what would ultimately
become "Misery's A Muse". At this time there was no band, expectation or particular sound
we were going for. It's a snapshot of us accidentally becoming a band so we could have an
excuse to write more songs. It feels good to finally have an opportunity to share some of
these early workings, and lay the ground work for what we are doing next“ – Rick

CREATIVE CONTEXT ON SINGLE 2 - “Wedlock Waltz"
"Once the tone was set with the first demo, we pushed ourselves to make the most blistering
track we could with "Wedlock Waltz". I remember throwing three mics on my drums and
grinding a series of blast beats in odd meters to start the song. Brian (Sullivan) and I would
sit in my basement studio and pass the guitar back and forth until the we found the riff. We
wanted to keep it high energy and dissonant. Looking back I feel like this is the song that
really paved the way for where we were heading creatively." – Billy

Over the past decade or so, Chris Forsyth has produced a series of perennially year-end list haunting studio albums of expansive art-rock, from 2013’s Solar Motel to 2019’s All TimePresent , in the process becoming one of the leading lights of the so-called “indie jam” scene, musicians combining omnivorous influences with post-Dead sprawl.

These critically lauded albums have established Forsyth as one of today’s most unique and acclaimed guitar player/composers - a forward thinking classicist synthesizing cinematic expansiveness with a pithy lyricism and rhythmic directness that makes even his 20-minute workouts feel as clear, direct, and memorable as a 4-minute song.

Pitchfork has called his music “a near-perfect balance between 70s rock tradition and present day experimentation,” NPR Music named Forsyth “one of rock’s most lyrical guitar improvisors,” and the New York Times calls him “a scrappy and mystical historian… His music humanizes the element of control in rock classicism (and) turns it into a woolly but disciplined ritual.”

But the studio records are just the tip of the iceberg.

You see, in a live setting Forsyth’s music is never really finished.

He hasn’t had a fixed band in years and plays with a rotating cast of characters. Regulars in Forsyth’s bands have included bassists Doug McCombs (Tortoise) and Peter Kerlin (Sunwatchers), and drummer Ryan Jewell (Ryley Walker, too many others to mention), among others - basically, whoever is available for the given gig or tour.

These are not groups that rehearse, exactly. Operating more like a jazz band, Forsyth and his players treat the songs as frameworks that remain identifieable but morph based on who’s playing them, like weather to a landscape.

Embracing this flux has become a cornerstone of Forsyth’s live sets, rendering every performance special and thereby catching the attention of tapers from his home base in Philly to New York City, Chicago, and Minneapolis. In fact, most of his live performances over the last few years are recorded and posted on the Live Music Archive site.

But the taper recordings, though many are high quality and full of character, are not professionally recorded and mixed multi-tracks.

Which brings us to Peoples Motel Band , the new live LP culled from a set that Forsyth played with NY-based group Garcia Peoples as his band, and is self-releasing on his own Algorithm Free label in a limited pressing of 500 copies.

Recorded September 14, 2019 before a packed and enthusiastic hometown crowd at Johnny Brenda’s in Philadelphia, Peoples Motel Band catches Forsyth and Garcia Peoples (plus ubiquitous drummer Ryan Jewell) re-imagining songs from Forsyth’s last couple studio albums with improvisatory flair.

Forsyth and Garcia Peoples played a number of 2019 shows together, beginning with a semi-legendary jam set at Nublu in NYC in March, through a couple dates on Forsyth’s month-long weekly residency at Nublu in September and concluding with a five-date tour of the Northeast in December. The chemistry between the players is tangible.

As is often the case with Forsyth shows, the gloves come off quickly and the players attack the material - much of it so well-manicured and cleanly produced in the studio - like a bunch of racoons let loose in a Philadelphia pretzel factory.

Recorded and mixed with clarity by Forsyth’s longtime studio collaborator, engineer/producer Jeff Zeigler, the record puts the listener right in the sweaty club, highlighted by an incredible side-long take of the chooglin’ title track from 2017’s Dreaming in The Non-Dream LP (note multiple climaxes eliciting wild shouts and ecstatic screams from the assembled).

This is not the new Chris Forsyth album, exactly, but then again, it kinda is because whenever he sits down to play, something new comes out.

Belched from Hell’s depths into the rustic charms of the Witch County, Suffolk thirty long and disturbing years ago, CRADLE OF FILTH are undisputed giants of the heavy metal realm. Imperious purveyors of a perennially unique strain of dark, dastardly and wilfully extreme metal, with deep roots in the worlds of gothic horror and occult curiosity, the band led by Dani Filth has weathered three decades of tumult and trial, earning a formidable reputation as both a singular creative force and one of the most riotously entertaining live bands the metal world has ever produced.
From primitive early works like 1992 debut »The Principle Of Evil Made Flesh« to more expansive and theatrical classics like ‘Cruelty And The Beast’ and ‘Midian’, CRADLE OF FILTH defied trends and constructed their own idiosyncratic world of foul grandeur, becoming one of the UK’s most notable metal bands in the process. Since then, they have traversed the world countless times, hoovering up plaudits and praise from an ever-expanding international fan base. Resolutely prolific, the band’s catalogue has grown in depth and stature all the while, irrespective of line-up changes or the whims of the faithful.
In more recent times, CRADLE OF FILTH have hit an unmistakable hot streak of creativity and urgency. As a new line-up coalesced around the creation of 2015’s »Hammer Of The Witches«, fresh impetus propelled the band to new heights, as the revitalised crew became more in demand around the world than ever before. 2017’s ‘Cryptoriana - The Seductiveness Of Decay’ repeated the trick with even more explosive flamboyance. Until a global pandemic brought the music industry to a jarring halt, CRADLE OF FILTH were almost permanently on the road and absolutely fucking flying. As a result, it should surprise no one that the band’s brand new album, ‘Existence Is Futile’, is yet another monumental and electrifying journey through the dark.
Buoyed by these recent triumphs, CRADLE OF FILTH recorded »Existence Is Futile« during 2020, piecing the record together in isolation, at Grindstone Studios in Suffolk with studio guru Scott Atkins (Devilment/Benediction/Vader). Although instantly recognisable as the work of these veteran blackhearts, the thirteenth CRADLE OF FILTH album is a wholly different beast from its immediate predecessors. Pitch-black, perverse and at times absurdly brutal and extreme, it hangs together with mesmerising fluidity. It is also absolutely rammed with giant, rousing melodies and moments of jaw-dropping invention. No one could mistake the venomously catchy likes of ‘How Many Tears To Nurture A Rose?’ or monstrous ballad ‘Discourse Between A Man And His Soul’ for anything other than CRADLE OF FILTH, of course, but ‘Existence Is Futile’ confirms that the band’s exploratory instincts remain as sharp as ever.
Underpinned by its huge and disarmingly organic production, »Existence Is Futile« is plainly the darkest and most unsettling album CRADLE OF FILTH have made in a while. Eschewing the band’s trademark twisted storytelling in favour of horrified glimpses into the mortal void and ruminations on the inevitable destruction of life on Earth, its poignancy and relevance to the cluster of nightmares facing humanity in 2021 is impossible to ignore, even if Dani Filth insists, not unreasonably, that he didn’t anticipate a global pandemic when the news songs were being written.
With the best possible timing, CRADLE OF FILTH were already due to make a new album during those long, lonely months of lockdown in 2020. Having grabbed the opportunity with both hands, Dani avows that unavoidable isolation from the rest of the world was the best possible incentive to get the job done, while also adding plenty of eerie atmosphere to the whole experience.
Sonically speaking, ‘Existence Is Futile’ is easily the most powerful and dramatic record CRADLE OF FILTH have ever made: it’s the sound of band’s enviable onstage chemistry spilling over into the studio, propelling each member of the band to new levels of intensity. Combined with the expected labyrinthine arrangements and moments of spellbinding bombast, ‘Existence Is Futile’ may be the most vivid representation of the CRADLE OF FILTH experience yet.
Also, diehard fans will be thrilled to learn that horror icon Doug 'Pinhead' Bradley makes a welcome return to the CRADLE fold, lending his dulcet tones to the epic ‘Suffer Our Dominion’, and to one of the forthcoming new record’s bonus tracks, as Dani explains.
“There are also two bonus tracks in addition to the album, one of which is the culmination to the ‘Her Ghost In The Fog’ trilogy, which began on »Midian«.
For this we had little hesitation in enlisting our friend and actor Doug Bradley to reprise his narrative role. Doug lives in Pittsburgh, which he refers to ‘The Pit’, thus we directed his narrative over Skype from his local studio. He adopts this almost David Attenborough-ish role on ‘Suffer Our Dominion’, which is possibly the most politically astute song we’ve written of late. As a band we usually shy from branching into politics, but it’s something that needed spouting. The fact we’re fucking our ecology up and desperately need to address the situation pronto…”
So, if we’re all going to perish in the fire of our own stupidity, we might as well have a suitably deranged and destructive soundtrack to do it by.
A bewitching, fearless nosedive into the abyss, the band's thirteenth studio album confirms the ferocious efficacy of CRADLE OF FILTH in 2021. Bold, brave, wildly imaginative and heavy as hell, the band’s latest runaway train-ride through the flames is the perfect album for these most imperfect of times. As Dani concludes, “Be like the virus! Mutate and survive!”

Belched from Hell’s depths into the rustic charms of the Witch County, Suffolk thirty long and disturbing years ago, CRADLE OF FILTH are undisputed giants of the heavy metal realm. Imperious purveyors of a perennially unique strain of dark, dastardly and wilfully extreme metal, with deep roots in the worlds of gothic horror and occult curiosity, the band led by Dani Filth has weathered three decades of tumult and trial, earning a formidable reputation as both a singular creative force and one of the most riotously entertaining live bands the metal world has ever produced.
From primitive early works like 1992 debut »The Principle Of Evil Made Flesh« to more expansive and theatrical classics like ‘Cruelty And The Beast’ and ‘Midian’, CRADLE OF FILTH defied trends and constructed their own idiosyncratic world of foul grandeur, becoming one of the UK’s most notable metal bands in the process. Since then, they have traversed the world countless times, hoovering up plaudits and praise from an ever-expanding international fan base. Resolutely prolific, the band’s catalogue has grown in depth and stature all the while, irrespective of line-up changes or the whims of the faithful.
In more recent times, CRADLE OF FILTH have hit an unmistakable hot streak of creativity and urgency. As a new line-up coalesced around the creation of 2015’s »Hammer Of The Witches«, fresh impetus propelled the band to new heights, as the revitalised crew became more in demand around the world than ever before. 2017’s ‘Cryptoriana - The Seductiveness Of Decay’ repeated the trick with even more explosive flamboyance. Until a global pandemic brought the music industry to a jarring halt, CRADLE OF FILTH were almost permanently on the road and absolutely fucking flying. As a result, it should surprise no one that the band’s brand new album, ‘Existence Is Futile’, is yet another monumental and electrifying journey through the dark.
Buoyed by these recent triumphs, CRADLE OF FILTH recorded »Existence Is Futile« during 2020, piecing the record together in isolation, at Grindstone Studios in Suffolk with studio guru Scott Atkins (Devilment/Benediction/Vader). Although instantly recognisable as the work of these veteran blackhearts, the thirteenth CRADLE OF FILTH album is a wholly different beast from its immediate predecessors. Pitch-black, perverse and at times absurdly brutal and extreme, it hangs together with mesmerising fluidity. It is also absolutely rammed with giant, rousing melodies and moments of jaw-dropping invention. No one could mistake the venomously catchy likes of ‘How Many Tears To Nurture A Rose?’ or monstrous ballad ‘Discourse Between A Man And His Soul’ for anything other than CRADLE OF FILTH, of course, but ‘Existence Is Futile’ confirms that the band’s exploratory instincts remain as sharp as ever.
Underpinned by its huge and disarmingly organic production, »Existence Is Futile« is plainly the darkest and most unsettling album CRADLE OF FILTH have made in a while. Eschewing the band’s trademark twisted storytelling in favour of horrified glimpses into the mortal void and ruminations on the inevitable destruction of life on Earth, its poignancy and relevance to the cluster of nightmares facing humanity in 2021 is impossible to ignore, even if Dani Filth insists, not unreasonably, that he didn’t anticipate a global pandemic when the news songs were being written.
With the best possible timing, CRADLE OF FILTH were already due to make a new album during those long, lonely months of lockdown in 2020. Having grabbed the opportunity with both hands, Dani avows that unavoidable isolation from the rest of the world was the best possible incentive to get the job done, while also adding plenty of eerie atmosphere to the whole experience.
Sonically speaking, ‘Existence Is Futile’ is easily the most powerful and dramatic record CRADLE OF FILTH have ever made: it’s the sound of band’s enviable onstage chemistry spilling over into the studio, propelling each member of the band to new levels of intensity. Combined with the expected labyrinthine arrangements and moments of spellbinding bombast, ‘Existence Is Futile’ may be the most vivid representation of the CRADLE OF FILTH experience yet.
Also, diehard fans will be thrilled to learn that horror icon Doug 'Pinhead' Bradley makes a welcome return to the CRADLE fold, lending his dulcet tones to the epic ‘Suffer Our Dominion’, and to one of the forthcoming new record’s bonus tracks, as Dani explains.
“There are also two bonus tracks in addition to the album, one of which is the culmination to the ‘Her Ghost In The Fog’ trilogy, which began on »Midian«.
For this we had little hesitation in enlisting our friend and actor Doug Bradley to reprise his narrative role. Doug lives in Pittsburgh, which he refers to ‘The Pit’, thus we directed his narrative over Skype from his local studio. He adopts this almost David Attenborough-ish role on ‘Suffer Our Dominion’, which is possibly the most politically astute song we’ve written of late. As a band we usually shy from branching into politics, but it’s something that needed spouting. The fact we’re fucking our ecology up and desperately need to address the situation pronto…”
So, if we’re all going to perish in the fire of our own stupidity, we might as well have a suitably deranged and destructive soundtrack to do it by.
A bewitching, fearless nosedive into the abyss, the band's thirteenth studio album confirms the ferocious efficacy of CRADLE OF FILTH in 2021. Bold, brave, wildly imaginative and heavy as hell, the band’s latest runaway train-ride through the flames is the perfect album for these most imperfect of times. As Dani concludes, “Be like the virus! Mutate and survive!”

Born in Majorca, Marc Melià is a composer/producer, who’s been based in Brussels for over 10 years. First spotted alongside Françoiz Breut, Lonely Drifter Karen or Borja Flames, he released Music for Prophet in 2017. It was issued on Gaspar Claus’s label Les Disques du Festival Permanent, as part of Flavien Berger’s curation.

On that first album, Marc Melià had explored the possibilities of a mythic synth; on Veus, as if sloughing, he applied the process of sound modification to his own voice, until becoming an android. But an android who sings of love and dreams, a sensitive automaton who plays with the tropes of pop music. Through this device, Marc Melià knowingly seeks poetry and beauty within transgenics, in the search of a universe where one can surf though waves of profoundly moving chord patterns, hear voices unconstrained by range limitations, or dance freely, as in zero gravity.

Part of the album has been recorded in Une ferme dans les Vosges, courtesy of Rodolphe Burger. It was recorded with Roméo Poirier, one of the most promising figures of ambient, and the elegant multi-talented Lou Rotzinger. As if progressing in parallel with his own linguistic experience, to add another layer to the sloughing, side A is sung in Catalan, Marc Melià’s mother tongue, and side B in French, his adopted language.

Like an echo to his previous album, Veus opens with an instrumental, “Pulse on a E”, which starts with a sequence created with a single note transposed to its octave, just like “Fata Fou”, the last song on Music for Prophet.

Although the title seems to reference an iconic 80s synth, “DX7” is actually about the seven days of the week. It is a love song, about the temperamental oscillations which make every morning the blank canvas of an unpredictable story. Wednesday, I hate you, Sunday, I love you. With few words and a lot of emotion, a synthetic voice is trying to grow more human each day.

“Dent de Serra” deals with the weight of memory on our relationships, but also with the way we revisit them constantly in order to integrate souvenirs within present relationships. Suddenly, the song stops and enters a new dimension, everything is different, as if what had just happened was now forgotten forever.

Oxytocin (“Oxitocines” in Catalan) is said to be the hormone of love. This song deals in a playful way with the duality between science and faith, between rational and magic, when it comes to sentimental relationships. Love is a universal theme, it is everywhere in the world, and love songs have been written for a very long time. But this particular love song is an ode to an aspect of love that has been less sung about: biology, which makes it possible to feel like you’re floating in space when you fall in love.

“Les étoiles” is a trio with Flavien Berger and Pi Ja Ma. The song is about attraction. What attracts humans to each other, but also the inevitable gravitational attraction. The song is also about accidents, magic moments that take us outside of our daily lives and give us the possibility to imagine a sidereal, infinite love.

“A propos d’une chanson” was born after Marc Melià had dreamed he had written the most beautiful song he’d ever created. When he woke up, he realized that song was actually O Superman by Laurie Anderson.

Aside from these songs, Marc Melià offers a few breaks, instrumental but no less narrative.

“Final d’hivern” conjures these quiet moments between two intense events; sleeping at night between two days; the calm that settles in after a hard winter, right before spring properly starts.

Using a musical language that clearly references Ryuichi Sakamoto, “Romain”, with its theme based on a melancholic chord pattern, could be the soundtrack to a 1970s movie lost in time. Little by little, elements that seem to come from a completely different context find their place, while turning the initial mood into something strange and unexpected.

Finally, “Retorn”, which finishes the album, is a reprise of the theme of “DX7”.

From the chords that make up a song, to the days that make up our lives, existence is but a cycle, and Veus is an exploration of them. Marc Melià keeps on drifting on his personal path, between homage to the past and visions of the future.

Multi-instrumentalist, vocalist, producer, and songwriter Jordan Rakei is back with his fourth studio album

What We Call Life is Jordan Rakei’s most vulnerable and intimate album to date. Its lyrics concern the lessons that the New Zealand-born, Australia-raised, and London-based artist learned about himself during therapy, a journey that began two years ago when he started reading about the ‘positive psychology’ movement. Rakei, already a practitioner of meditation and mindfulness, was curious about the potential of using therapy for further self-discovery. During the process, he began to learn more about his behaviour patterns and anxieties, and addressed his long-standing irrational phobia of birds – a fear often associated with the unpredictable and the unknown, and something explored in the album’s creative direction and visuals.

“As we worked through it, it made me realise I would love to talk about the different lessons I learned from therapy in my music: about my early childhood, my relationship with my parents and siblings, becoming independent in London, being in a new marriage, understanding how my marriage compares to the relationship my parents had” Rakei says.

Black vinyl LP, printed inner sleeve, fully artworked outer sleeve with obi. Includes double-sided lyric poster and MP3 download code. Artwork by Justin Tyler Close.

Multi-instrumentalist, vocalist, producer, and songwriter Jordan Rakei is back with his fourth studio album

What We Call Life is Jordan Rakei’s most vulnerable and intimate album to date. Its lyrics concern the lessons that the New Zealand-born, Australia-raised, and London-based artist learned about himself during therapy, a journey that began two years ago when he started reading about the ‘positive psychology’ movement. Rakei, already a practitioner of meditation and mindfulness, was curious about the potential of using therapy for further self-discovery. During the process, he began to learn more about his behaviour patterns and anxieties, and addressed his long-standing irrational phobia of birds – a fear often associated with the unpredictable and the unknown, and something explored in the album’s creative direction and visuals.

“As we worked through it, it made me realise I would love to talk about the different lessons I learned from therapy in my music: about my early childhood, my relationship with my parents and siblings, becoming independent in London, being in a new marriage, understanding how my marriage compares to the relationship my parents had” Rakei says.

Translucent pistachio green vinyl LP, printed inner sleeve, fully artworked outer sleeve with obi. Includes double-sided lyric poster and MP3 download code. Artwork by Justin Tyler Close.

A jazz musician’s vision of hip-hop’ – The Times

NYC-based rap lyricist and jazz trumpeter Pan Amsterdam returns on Def Pressé with a distinctly fresh sonic swagger on single RETAIL, announcing the P.A.&JSammich EP 4-track EP.

RETAIL exemplifies perfectly the mood of the EP (which sees a very limited vinyl release), four tracks of cheerily ominous storytelling set to synth stabs and trumpet flourishes, with a smattering of personality disorder.
The release follows up BBC 6Music favourite, the GUTS-produced single Carrot Cake, and its mother album, HA Chu.
Carving his own niche of a jazz-rap very different to and darker than its Golden Age cousin, Pan Am’s sophomore LP (“one of the strangest rap works of recent times”, thanks, The Independent) saw him hit the buttons of leftfield hip hop fans and word association enthusiasts.

Ha Chu saw Pan Am reflect on his touring life over the years, from his jazz scene displacement in NYC to becoming a songwriter and bandleader for Iggy Pop under his real life pseudonym, Leron Thomas. HA Chu featured collabs with the aforementioned GUTS, Jason Williams of Sleaford Mods, Malik Crumpler of Madison Washington (and Def Pressé) and Coup Diablo - aka Jimi Goodwin of Doves.
Pan Am’s first album, The Pocket Watch, saw him tour with DJ/producer Mr.Shn and rapper-wrestler/‘What Had Happened Was’ podcast host Open Mike Eagle.

UK multi-instrumentalist and story-teller Mara Simpson's new album In This Place will be released on September 24th, 2021. A heady blend of alt-folk, analogue synth and classical composition, In This Place is a tale of quiet rebellion, and taking back control. Fittingly, the new album marks the start of another new journey for Mara. In This Place will be the first record to be released on Downfield Records, a non-profit imprint set up by Simpson, placing artists at it’s centre. “I want to try and promote transparency and equality, assist other artists to get public funding and to ‘pay’ forward the time and resources I’ve benefited from,” she says. The label’s mission is to see musicians paid fairly and release records through a creative and joyous process.

Whilst the struggles of 2020 will go down in history, for Mara it was 2019 that was the tough one. A year spent consumed by worry, whilst in and out of hospital with her one year old daughter, had left Mara feeling like she was playing a constant game of catch up with a world that wouldn’t slow down. With songs ready to be recorded for her new album, she headed into the studio. “I stepped into the studio not needing my hand held, just my voice heard” explains Mara, who quickly came to the realisation that she was working in a toxic environment. Enough was enough

It was whilst waiting for a train that she had the sudden realisation that the album she was recording would never see the light of day. Struck by an overwhelming feeling of failure, Mara began to ruminate on the time and money she had wasted but then something clicked. “Perhaps it’s something about train stations, the coming and the goings, that allows a stagnating frame of mind the grace and space to clear” she says. “The funny thing is, upon realising failure, the despair I’d been feeling was now replaced with something else...Relief”.

Feeling re-energised, Mara called her dream producer Ellie Mason, of Voka Gentle, and together the pair began working on a new record. “I’ve been more hands-on with this album than I’ve ever been, taking a much more active role in production. Throughout the whole process Ellie has heard my voice, and been open to any possibility” explains Mara. “We’ve stumbled across golden moments, recording four part harmonies in Brighton’s oldest church, using every drum there is in Brighton Electric, layering New Zealand bird song with tape delayed piano, all thanks to her nurture, playfulness and kindness” she continues.

Album opener ‘Serena’, named after the apartment building in Brighton where Mara’s daughter was born, is based on the experience of becoming a mother and the responsibility of making important healthcare decisions. “How will I know how to love you” she sings over undulating synths and sparse piano chords. Title-track ‘In This Place’ is about the confrontation between mother and new-born child. The ‘sizing-up’ of one another as they embark on a new journey together. “When I left home to travel around the world and was so worried about breaking my Mum’s heart,” says Mara. “I just remember her saying that your children are never yours to keep. This is a song about the rawest of loves, and the fact that however much we love someone, they are never ours, and the beauty in that.”

In addition to the experience of motherhood, the songs on In This Place take inspiration from a wide range of places, including Mara’s ‘second home’ New Zealand. ‘Christchurch’, written in response to the Christchurch Mosque shootings in 2019, layers New Zealand birdsong on top of swirling piano and moving choral vocals. ‘Fault Lines’ was inspired by The Waitangi treaty. Signed in 1840 in New Zealand by the British Crown and Maori chiefs. The British understood that the Maori were signing over land that the British could now govern and effectively ‘own’, however to the Maori people it is impossible to own land, in the same way that you can’t ‘own’ air. “We live and die, the land remains and we are just it’s keepers for the very short time we are here. This song is about us not owning this earth - how can we? We are only the guardians of it while we are here” says Mara.

Backed by a band of accomplished musicians (Jools Owen (Bears Den) on drums, James Smith (Anaïs Mitchell) on banjo, Alexandra Hamilton-Ayres on clarinet and strings by Poppy Ackroyd) on In This Place, Mara sounds the most confident she’s ever sounded. With her new material, Mara Simpson hopes to promote a gentle, yet radical shift toward kindness and it’s this warmth that can be both heard and felt across her new record.

Beggars Arkive announce the LP reissue of Gary Numan’s
fifth album, ‘Warriors’, on orange vinyl. Originally released
in 1983 and co-produced with Bill Nelson, the album
continues Numan’s ambient-funk experimentations.
 “I still like a lot of the ‘Warriors’ stuff and Bill Nelson did a
lot of very inventive things on it which, because of our
differences, I failed to appreciate at the time. I think the
Mad Max image convinced a lot of people, the press
especially, that it was a sci-fi album. Much of it though was
actually quite autobiographical. Even songs like ‘The
Iceman Comes’ and ‘This Prison Moon’ were more to do
with what I was going through than anything sci-fi. Lyrically
I was already becoming overly focused on the career
struggle. ‘Warriors’ was written, in the main, in a hotel
room in Jersey. My girlfriend had just left me, I’d been
evicted from the house I was living in and I felt pretty much
alone in more ways than one. Despite its surface gloss of
futurism it was really very inward looking. To me the image
was meant to represent someone fighting for survival as
much as anything” - Gary Numan
 The achievements over his four-decade career (and
counting) are remarkable for someone who never made
any concessions to mainstream success. Seven Top 10
singles, including ‘Are ‘Friends’ Electric?’ and the debut
solo hit ‘Cars’; seven Top 10 albums, three of which
topped the charts; and huge critical acclaim, most notably
with the Inspiration Award at the prestigious Ivor Novellos.
 In a career that spans over forty years, the music evolves
and the themes change. But fans remain fascinated by
Numan for the v

NMB are releasing their much-anticipated fourth album, “Innocence & Danger”, on 27th August 2021. The band comprise Neal Morse, Mike Portnoy, Randy George, Bill Hubauer & Eric Gillette. With NMB’s previous two releases being concept albums, it’s perhaps remarkable that “Innocence & Danger” is a series of unrelated songs, but drummer Mike Portnoy says “After two sprawling back to back double concept albums in a row, it was refreshing to get back to writing a collection of unrelated individual songs in the vein of our first album.” Six years on from “The Grand Experiment”, Morse is more enthusiastic than ever about the talents and contribution of his fellow band members on “Innocence & Danger”: “The band is really so extraordinary – and is such an amazing team: Mike’s drums are huge, Randy’s bass playing is an ever-solid foundation and Eric’s vocals are becoming crazy good now: often I’ll sing the verse, Eric sings the chorus, Bill sings the bridge and Eric will bring it home. It seems to work really, really well. And both Bill and Eric’s soloing is amazing: they have really hit it out of the park on this record.” Available on Ltd 2CD+DVD Digipak (feat. ‘Making Of’ Documentay), Standard 2CD Jewelcase, 3LP+2CD Boxset & as Digital Album.

As the grandson of the late trumpeter Doc Cheatham, and former student of legendary jazz trumpeter Donald Byrd, trumpeter Theo Croker is an artist steeped in jazz tradition and he is rapidly becoming one of the hottest jazz artists of this era.

Croker's own music reveals a love of organic funk, soul, and groove-oriented hip-hop. Helping to raise Croker's musical vibrations is his ensemble, featuring saxophonist Anthony Ware, keyboardist Michael King, guitarist Ben Eunson, bassist Eric Wheeler, and drummer Kassa Overall. Also adding color to the proceedings are guitarist Femi Temowo and saxophonist Irwin Hall. Dee Dee Bridgewater appears on the classic tune 'Love From The Sun'. Croker proves he's got deep ideas about life, spirituality, and how music connects us all. It's an ebullient, groove-conscious message perhaps best expressed on the bass-heavy 'It's Gonna Be Alright.' Trading the song's title phrase back and forth like old friends high-fiving on the street, you can hear Croker and his band smiling.