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Loyle Carner will release his highly anticipated sophomore record, 'Not Waving, But Drowning' on 19 April via AMF Records.

'Not Waving, But Drowning' follows Loyle's BRIT (Best Male, Best Newcomer) and Mercury Prize nominated, top 20 debut 'Yesterday's Gone'. The bedrock of honest and raw sentimentality that you heard on 'Yesterday's Gone' left an inextinguishable mark on music in general and UK Hip Hop in particular, standing out as an ageless, bulletproof debut.

'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's new album, gives yet more evidence - as if it were needed - of his razor-sharp flow and his unique storytelling ability. Yes, he can rap, but he allies that with the sensitivity of a poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, 'a woman from the skies', and he's moving out.

It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator.

Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Yotam Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. 'Ottolenghi' the first single from the album was featured on the BBC Radio 1 B-list, BBC 6 Music A-list and has already been streamed over 5 million times.

Loyle refers to real life for everything, the title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving, But Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend Rebel Kleff after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead.

Loyle also has his own personal black consciousness movement. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). With no real emotional ties to his biological father, but a deep connection with a deceased step-father, where does a young child turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain on 'Looking Back'.

An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Kwes, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place.
Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or a society that lets so many down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. Loyle's 2019 Spring tour - which includes London's Roundhouse - sold out within 20 minutes of being on sale.

Not Waving, But Drowning



A rapper that raps about family is hard to find. The boys in the 'hood' tend not to be that interested in how much a 'brother' loves his mother, or how much he misses his dad, or even how much he misses his best friend. The boys in the 'hood' tend to be obsessed with the size of their cars, girls, bank accounts, and other personal 'possessions'. Loyle Carner's Mercury and BRIT Prize nominated debut 'Yesterday's Gone' (Released 2017), made it clear that he wasn't that kind of rapper. In fact, every time I talk to him about his work we talk about the world, and we tended to confuse ourselves by calling his work rap, poems, or songs, sometimes in the same sentence. They are in truth all of these things.



Here's some poetry.



Honestly I need them.

I hate them but I grieve them

I think I've finally found the reason

Trust

Like the fire needs the air.

I won't burn unless you're there.





'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's forthcoming new album, gives us yet more evidence, (if it were needed), that he still has what rappers call, flow, but he hasn't lost any of his story telling qualities. Yes, the boy can rap, but a rapper with the sensitivity of a true poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, (a woman from the skies), and he's moving out. He really loves the woman from the skies, but he still loves his mum, and so he reassures her that there is no competition, and tells her that 'She's not behind me or behind you, but beside we and beside two', his words. Or to put it another way, moving out without moving out. My words.



It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator. He says finding his own voice was something he always found easy. Although young, (in terms of a musical career), he has confidence in his own words and his own voice, and has never been tempted to sound like he's been hanging out in the USA, or rolling in 'Grime' on the mean streets of East London. And so when it comes to the creative process he doesn't simply find a beat to jump on and ride. Beats are important, but they are tenderly layered with samples, keyboards, or live drums, all imaginatively assembled for the laying on of words. Some tracks start with the idea, some with poetry, and some with a verse from a singer or some other melodic inspiration, but there is no formula.



Here's some poetry.



Don't hold any memories of us

Rather hold you everyday until the memories are dust

Yo we only caught the train

Cos you know I hate the bus





A prolific reader, who has dyslexia is hard to find. Add ADHD (Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) to that and life should become even more difficult. To deal with your difficulties you devise coping strategies, which can differ from person to person. Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. Loyle describes himself as 'weird' because he is happy to read a cookbook as if he was reading a novel or a book of poetry. He has opened a cookery school for young adults not just because he loves food and wants to make more of it, but because it is one of the few things that can focus the ADHD mind. And when it comes to his other love, football, his approach is the same. Focus. He wanted to be a striker he says, up front scoring goals, but found his best position was in midfield because he was able to focus, check options, and see passes ahead of time, providing passes for other players just when they needed them. He says, 'You don't grow out of ADHD, you grow into it.' Loyle is also working with Levi's® on their music project where he is mentoring young musicians over a six month period, culminating at Liverpool Sound City festival.



More poetry.



When the going is tough

I wait till it falls on deaf ears

Hearsay

Without the boundaries of love



He also said, 'Ask most people and they will say that they love their mothers, but most are not going to rap about her'. On his first album Loyle's mum Jean wrote about the 'scribble of a boy' that growing up would take things apart to see how they worked. On this album she speaks with pride about a man who has found his place in the world.



Yes, poetry.



I'm still looking for the answers

Trying to find the right questions

Still waiting for my fathers

But can't break them in to sections



This poetry is serious. Loyle has his own personal black consciousness movement. He told me that he always felt safe at home, and being the darkest one in the family never meant a thing, but then when he had to face the outside world he felt hostility. It shook him up. Now he had to start asking questions, but what were the questions. This is serious. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the verse above taken from the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). So to whom would a young black (or mixed race) kid turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain when he says, 'My great grandfather could of owned my other one.' We are a people descended from enslaved people on one hand, and enslavers on the other, something we are still struggling to come to terms with, and this can be apparent in one family. A big book could have told you that, but here we get it in one line on the track, Looking Back.





Loyle refers to real life for everything. The album is peppered with captured moments that he records on his phone. These moments can range from conversations with taxi drivers, to capturing the moment when England scores a goal in the world cup. The title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving but Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead. Yes people, this is real.



An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit, this is an album for those who have, (I'm sorry, I'm going to say it), emotional intelligence. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place. Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or the society that has let him down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. His first album worked, and this second album is a continuation of that work. Not creating a form, but being formless, as someone like Bruce Lee once said.

And here's some poetry from mum.



We talked long in to the darkest hours

Until we saw the burnished sky

And our eyes stung

As our words blurred and became thoughts

As we were silenced by the dawn

We clung to each other like sailors in a storm

Sourcing rare records to reissue can involve meticulous research and years of digging, but then occasionally, Lady Luck smiles upon you. We probably would have never heard of the Medium Wave Band if Gary from Mr Bongo hadn't known Wolverhampton-based record dealer, Steve Ward. Whilst offering Gary some records for sale, he remembered he had a spare copy of an old 7" single that he thought Gary might like. Steve didn't know much about the release, and it had never sold on Discogs. Looking at the record itself, it was minimalist in appearance and information, there wasn't much to go on other than that it was from the Birmingham area. The mystery drew us in…

The A-side, 'So Tender’, is a late-night, jazzy slow-jam, with beautifully sultry, soulful female vocals which sounded vaguely familiar. On listening to the B side, 'Games (Instrumental)’, you are rewarded with a superb example of Britfunk / independent UK jazz-funk. The pulsating, bass-led dancefloor groove and sensibility is a sound reminiscent of productions usually found on labels such as Elite, but the 7” was not released on a label, it was a private press by the band themselves. So who are the enigmatic The Medium Wave Band?

After some fruitful internet digging and correspondence, we got the answers. The band lineup featured Elliot Browne on guitar (lead & rhythm), Ron Lyseight on guitar (rhythm), Andrew Proverbs on keyboards, Tony Peart on drums, Paul Snook on bass, Linton Levy on saxophone, and surprisingly, the beautiful vocals we had been enjoying were those of Jackie Graham, aka the hugely successful UK vocalist, Jaki Graham. Maybe best known for her pop hit with David Grant, 'Could It Be I'm Falling In Love', but also featuring on the cult classic track 'Fire In My Heart' by Escape From New York.

Influenced by artists and bands including George Benson, Ronnie Laws, Weather Report, George Duke, Azimuth and Chick Corea to name a few, the guys booked into a studio near the Botanical Gardens in Birmingham and recorded the two tracks that make up this 7”. Only 200 copies of the original 7" were ever pressed and were sold mostly in Birmingham at Summit Records by the band’s friend DJ Frenchi, as well as at live shows. Despite its limited distribution channels, the record received solid support from fans and those in the music industry, including Morgan Khan of the influential record label, Street Sounds. DJ and journalist, Lindsay Wesker, reviewed the release and this led to the band travelling to London for several radio interviews. They played live shows across the country, including at the prestigious Ronnie Scott's in London, and supported both Shakatak and Weapon of Peace in Birmingham.

Thanks to all those involved bringing this release into fruition and for solving the mystery behind a wonderful Britfunk and UK soul record that could have otherwise been lost in the mists of time.

DJ und Produzent Brennan Heart (Fabian Bohn) ist seit mehreren Jahren in Hochform. Ein wahrer Star der Hardstyle-Szene mit vielen Studio- und Mixalben, Golden Awards und Kollaborationen mit den Grössten der internationalen Szene - von Steve Aoki über Dimitri Vegas & Like Mike bis Ben Nicky.

"Save Euphoric" ist sein bisher persönlichstes Album, ein Spiegelbild seines jüngeren Ichs. Brennan: ""Save Euphoric" handelt davon, diesem fröhlichen, lebhaften Kind in mir endlich den Raum zum Atmen zu geben. Zu lange habe ich mich hinter der Arbeit versteckt, hinter "Leidenschaften", die mir viel gebracht, mich aber völlig aus dem Gleichgewicht geworfen haben. Es ist ein persönlicher Spiegel, eine Erinnerung daran, auf dem Boden zu bleiben. Ich glaube, unser geliebter Hardstyle ist genug gereift, dass ich all dies jetzt durch unsere Musik teilen kann."

Dieses Meisterwerk von einem Album enthält 19 Titel und jeder davon erzählt einen anderen Teil von Fabians Geschichte. Sie alle gehen zurück zu den euphorischen Wurzeln des Hardstyle und zeigen seine Liebe zu grossen Melodien, orchestralen Breaks und Ausdruckskraft in seinen Songs. Die Entstehung war eine Zusammenarbeit von Fabian mit einigen seiner musikalischen Freunde, darunter Timmy Trumpet, Jonathan Mendelsohn (u.a. bei "Running Up That Hill"), Toneshifterz, u.v.a. Die CD enthält eine persönliche Nachricht von Fabian selbst und bietet über eine Stunde Hardstyle vom Feinsten. Ein absolutes Muss für alle Fans von euphorischem Hardstyle!

In den späten 1960er Jahren erlebte Kanadas größte Stadt einen musikalischen Aufschwung, als karibische Einwanderer Toronto zu ihrer neuen Heimat machten. Die besten Ska-, Rocksteady- und Reggae-Aufnahmekünstler jener Zeit - die Gründer von Studio One, Treasure Isle und Trojan Records - taten einfach das, was ihnen in den Sinn kam. Einer nach dem anderen gingen sie ins Studio und nahmen einige der härtesten Songs diesseits von Kingston auf. Gemeinsam überwanden sie die rassischen und kulturellen Barrieren und bildeten eine beispiellose und wenig bekannte kanadische Soul & Reggae-Community. "Jamaika to Toronto: Soul, Funk & Reggae 1967-1974" beschreibt diese entscheidende klangliche Migration im Detail. // Mit Jackie Mittoo, Johnnie Osbourne, Wayne McGhie, Lloyd Delpratt, The Mighty Pope, Jo-Jo Bennett, Eddie Spencer, Noel Ellis und mehr_ // 2024 erweiterte Ausgabe mit 20-seitigem Deluxe-Booklet mit Archivbildern, Künstlerbiografien und Essays // 2xLP-Set, läuft mit 45 rpm, in einem luxuriösen Klappcover // Zusammengestellt, und kommentiert von dem GRAMMY-nominierten Produzenten, DJ und Journalisten Kevin Howes (alias Sipreano, Voluntary In Nature) in Zusammenarbeit mit Light in the Attic // Yellow & Green ReVinyl, eine nachhaltige Alternative aus 100% recycelten Materialien //

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

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

She's In Parties ist ein englisches Quartett aus Colchester (benannt nach dem kultigen Bauhaus-Track), dessen eigenwillige Mischung aus Shoegaze und Dream-Pop ihr relativ junges Alter verrät. Die neue EP "Puppet Show" ist ihr bisher politischstes und lyrisch reifstes Statement. Es behandelt die Sorgen nach dem Erwachsenwerden und die existentielle Erkenntnis über die Probleme dieser Welt, von den sozialen Medien bis zu Kriegen und der persönlichen Angst, all dem hilflos ausgeliefert zu sein.

- "Colchester’s new answer to hazy shoegaze heroes Cocteau Twins." – NME

- "Melding shoegaze-y pop and dazzling indie licks, their wall of sound is simply irresistible." - DORK

- "All dreamy, reverbed atmospherics and interlocking textures... A real find." - Sunday Times Culture

SWASTIKAS FOR NODDY is possibly, probably, maybe, or not, a seminal and sidereal masterpiece, the inspiration for 93,000 Masks On Nothings, none of which were Groovy. For me, well, it was my first Hallucinatory PickNick, and the skies turned Pixie Red for it.

I was given the album’s title during an Acid Trip: seeing Noddy Crucified In The Sky, I asked God what the most inappropriate BirthDay present for Noddy might be. God answered me from the Acid Whirlwind: “Swastikas!”

I recorded her in a run-down basement studio in West London, whilst I was simultaneously recording IMPERIUM. On playing the finished album to certain well-chosen friends, I was told by them that I had “destroyed Current 93”, and that it sounded like “demented children on drugs singing Simon & Garfunkel in a playground”. I then knew the album sounded exactly as I had dreamed it to sound, and as God had intended it to sound. Had I ditched the earlier darkness, and skipped into flowered fields? Great Black Time had already told me “NO!—GO!”

Remastered by The Bricoleur at Bladud Flies!, and with the original artwork refreshed and reborn by Rob Hopeye, this 12” vinyl picture-disc comes in a full-colour die-cut sleeve, which is printed on both the outside and inside.

This is one of the first 4 reissues of the entire back catalogue of C93 on picture-disc and standard vinyl, in the lead-up to the publication of my autobiography at the end of 2025, whilst I also work on many other recording, publishing, and painting projects, and Watch And Pray! Each release in the picture-disc vinyl reissues series is limited to 1,000 copies, and the titles will not be repressed as picture-discs once they have sold out.

Following a ten-year hiatus, multi-instrumentalists Rafael Anton Irisarri and Benoît Pioulard return with »How to Color a Thousand Mistakes«, their third LP together as Orcas. Building on the electronic minimalism of »Orcas« (2012) and the Twin Peaks-inspired haze of »Yearling« (2014), the duo have expanded their sound and vision into a full-spectrum ensemble.

In the time since their last major collaboration, Irisarri and Pioulard have done plenty on their own, while also traversing significant life changes: relocation from Seattle to New York, separation and divorce, illness, hospitalizations, and the loss of siblings, parents, and friends. Yet from these tribulations, they gleaned inspiration to reconstruct their lives, creating music with new collaborators and partners. Recorded in a variety of studios and cities including Brooklyn, Cambridge, Oxford, Seattle, and upstate New York, the resulting album, under the tutelage of UK producer James Brown (Arctic Monkeys, Kevin Shields, Nine Inch Nails), is a patiently-crafted beast, equally inspired by impressionism, British new wave, and dream pop.

With Irisarri’s guidance and Brown’s encouragement, Pioulard brings his velvety voice to its harmonized peak on songs like »Wrong Way to Fall« and the Durutti Column-indebted »Fare«. Where his most recent solo albums for Morr Music (»Sylva« and »Eidetic«) navigated foggy forests of ambient pop and stacked tape loops, here his characteristic blur shifts into focus with a unique degree of clarity and confidence. »How fare against balance do I / Navigate my errors?«, Pioulard sings in a heartbreaking tenor, echoing the album’s broader themes of introspection, grief, loss, trial and trauma.

Lead single, »Riptide«, is a summary of Pioulard’s life changes and personal upheavals in the past decade, »flitting eastward toward a yen deep in the past« and learning to glide through the tumult of ocean waves, as a metaphor for the punches one takes in pursuit of grace. Its towering, key-changing midsection arrives with the monumental drumming of Slowdive’s Simon Scott, a long-time friend and cohort who appears on most songs in the set. Scott’s quintessentially English, jazzier approach offers a balance of force and restraint as the backdrop for Irisarri’s majestic guitars, analog synth lines, and Martin Heyne’s Fender Rhodes counterpoints.

Second single, »Next Life«, began as a sketch by Scott, and reached its final form in the hands of Pioulard and Irisarri, at a point that each had endured major concurrent losses, finding a commonality in the need to gaze over the horizon while acknowledging the unavoidable bittersweetness of letting go – not only of people, but of routines, places, and expectations. It’s one of Orcas’ most nuanced pieces, with a mid-tempo, sunset glow that unfolds into a sparkling, slide-guitar finale as it disappears in the rear view.

On third-act highlight, »Bruise«, Scott is doubled on the drum kit by MONO’s Dahm Majuri Cipolla, whose Liebezeit-influenced metronomy anchors a nimble bass groove from Andrew Tasselmyer (of Hotel Neon), and some of the album's most syncopated, spaced-out interplay, courtesy of Puerto Rican guitar player Orlando Méndez (a childhood friend of Irisarri’s). Originally a droney, fingerpicked guitar demo, »Bruise« is the most storied composition here, having gone through almost a dozen versions and lyrical edits, with Brown distilling hours of improvised performances into the final arrangement.

Throughout »How to Color a Thousand Mistakes«, Irisarri uses his deep well of production experience to paint the stereo field with meticulously designed textures, exemplified on the slow burn of »Heaven’s Despite« and the heady rush of »Swells«. As a mixing and mastering engineer with Black Knoll, he has built a client list that reads as a who’s-who of modern, forward-thinking composition, including Temporary Residence, All Saints Records, and Ghostly International, among many others.

As with previous collaborations, Irisarri and Pioulard bring disparate styles and specialties to the table, but with an interpersonal dynamic that transcends friendship into brotherhood, their open-minded workflow and mutual respect are evident at every turn. »How to Color a Thousand Mistakes« brims with tight, complex art rock songwriting, masterful production, and sonic versatility, informed by a plethora of genres and tonal hues. The title might promise answers, but the gravitational center of the album is the dawning realization that, as you reckon with the infinite whims of the cosmos, there could be none.

Pressed On White (Lp1) & Red (Lp2) Vinyl. How do you define the music of Mantronix? Is it Hip Hop? Electro? Funk? House? Maybe the answer is all of the above (or is it none of the above?). It is true that Mantronix will be remembered for their multi-faceted sound as well as their ability to bend and blend genres flawlessly into a cohesive musical tapestry, but they will also most importantly they will be remembered as musical innovators and sub- genre pioneers. Kurtis Mantronik and MC Tee formed the group Mantronix In the early 80s. Their Sleeping Bag Records debut: Mantronix: The Album shot to commercial success on the strength of their debut single, "Fresh Is The Word". The influence of this groundbreaking debut is still felt in popular music today, having been sampled by the likes of Beastie Boys, Beck, The Prodigy and more. Kurtis Mantronik was also as dangerous behind the desk as he was behind the boards. Working as A&R for Sleeping Bag while signed to the label, Mantronik also helped recruit, sign, and produce for artists such as T La Rock and Just-Ice. Notable records from this era include, Just Ice's "Cold Gettin' Dumb" and "Back to the Old School" as well as T La Rock's "Breaking Bells (12" Version)". Traffic Entertainment Group in conjunction with Sleeping Bag Records and Warlock Entertainment now presents; Mantronix: King of the Beats, The Anthology 1985-1988. This carefully curated double LP compilation combines the best of Mantronix's work from the early, and arguably, best era of their career into one amazing listening experience. Whether you are an avid Mantronix fan or are looking for a place to start - this is the collection to wrap your ears around.

A1. Mantronix - Needle To The Groove (12” Version) A2. T La Rock - Breaking Bells (12” Version) A3. Just-Ice - Back To The Old School B1. Mantronix - Fresh Is The Word (12” Version) B2. Just-Ice - Turbo Charged B3. T La Rock - Breaking Bells (Dub Version) C1. Mantronix - We Control The Dice C2. Just-Ice - Cold Getting Dumb C3. Just-Ice - Cold Getting Dumb II C4. T La Rock - Bass Machine (12” Version) D1. Mantronix – Bassline D2. Tricky Tee - Johnny The Fox D3. Mantronix - Fresh Is The Word ‘88

1993 Chick Corea - the venerated 27-time Grammy winner and National Endowment for the Arts Jazz Master - unveiled the second incarnation of the Elektric Band. With the brand new lineup of guitarist Mike Miller, bassist Jimmy Earl and drummer Gary Novak, and saxophonist Eric Marienthtal (the lone holder over from the first iteration of the Elektric Band,) Corea, approached this ambitious outing in the same way he had done everything throughout his career, by pushing the boundaries of what modern jazz is.

With material written with these specific players in mind, Corea gathered this group of remarkably flexible musicians into Mad Hatter Studios in Los Angeles. Recorded almost entirely live in first takes, the album is notable for its “less is more” approach to Corea’s particular style of genre bending composition. Though the focus may have been more on acoustic piano than synths, the same proficiency, spontaneity, impeccable execution and jaw-dropping display of chops that characterize the five first Elektric Band albums applies.

Of special note here is the inclusion of the track “Final Frontier”, originally released exclusively on the Japanese and European editions. This all out burner is the lone tune on the record featuring Corea on a synthesizer.

Written as an answer to “Got A Match” from 1986’s The Chick Corea Elektric Band album, it’s an uptempo showcase for the players to stretch out and the kind of track that exemplifies the jazz fusion that Corea and his groups came to define."

In the new duo MISTRA, two extremes in the Norwegian music industry collide - Pop queen Benedicte Adrian and metal pioneer Anders Odden. Their first single "Waltz of Death" was performed in the 3rd semifinal of Melodi Grand Prix (the Norwegian Eurovision Song Contest) Benedicte Adrian is back in MGP 40 years after the success of Dollie de Luxe. The duo, which consisted of Benedicte and Ingrid Bjørnov, won the competition with "Lenge Leve Livet". They followed up the success with the album "Rock vs Opera" and have composed music for several musicals together. They released their last album as "Adrian/Bjørnov". As a solo artist, Benedicte has, among other things, sung the role of Queen of the Night in "Tryllefløyten" at Den Norske Opera, released the solo album "Desember" and guested on various stages both as a pop artist and a classical singer. Anders Odden has a long life behind him in black metal. In 1990, his band, Cadaver, debuted with Norway's first death metal LP "Hallucinating Anxiety". Since then, Cadaver has released six albums and gained cult status worldwide. Anders has also toured the world as a musician for other bands such as Celtic Frost. He has also collaborated with famous musicians such as Ronni Le Tekrø, Ledfoot, Hank Von Hell and Tony Harnell. Produced and mixed by Adair Daufembach in Studio Tomb, Norway

LIMITED EDITION LILAC COLOURED VINYL LP WITH DOWNLOAD CODE
It's a year later and everything has gone from bad to worse.

Machiavellian Art and Riot Season Records present "Population Control". A Sonic Examination of the Mechanisms of Control.

An intense exploration of societal and self-imposed controls, encapsulated in a dynamic contrast between Side A's visceral anger and the introspective ambiance of Side B. This duality mirrors the contrasting themes of external control versus internal reflection.

"Population Control" extends beyond its predecessor, "Indoctrination Sounds," in both musical depth and thematic scope. The album confronts a broad spectrum of modern-day addictions - not just to substances, but to technology, social media, and the relentless 24-hour news cycle. These themes manifest across tracks like "A Slow Death," "Population Control (1) + (2)," "Fear of the Outside World," and "Crisis," each exploring the resulting isolation, paranoia, fear, and hopelessness. "Seaside Holiday," a critique of environmental negligence, specifically highlighting the issue of untreated sewage being dumped into Britain's waterways by private companies.

Previous praise:

"Incredibly progressive, psychedelic but massively discordant, saxophone and static infused psych rock chaos" (Nineherz)

"Nasty noise rock with sax and freeform jam segments, but also—because you may have heard music which answers to that description before—a stamp of individuality." (Maximum Rock N Roll)

"Want a weird and dangerous album with a lot to say then Indoctrination Sounds is that album. " (Outlaws Of The Sun)

"Indoctrination Sounds is a total exercise in distorted, claustrophobic riffs, uneasy, anxious vibes, and industrial noise." (The Sleeping Shaman)

Machiavellian Art are: Amy Murphy, Benjamin Thomas, Joe Parkes, John Andrews,Sam Hunt

"Remembering is not the opposite of forgetting," Casey MQ sings at the start of Later that day, the day before, or the day before that, his new LP and Ghostly International debut. It's a phrase fittingly misremembered from something the LA-based, Canadian-born composer came upon as he spiraled into unconscious and subconscious-led writing sessions at the piano. Casey's known for his 2020 breakthrough release babycasey, which gave voice to songs seen through the lens of childhood, various film score work and collaborations with artists such as Oklou (who returns here), Eartheater, and Vagabon. His gifts as a producer and songwriter are rooted in textural world-building and the excavation of personal truth. With Later that day... he questions what is true entirely, understanding our mind's tendency to bend and project onto pictures of the past. Across vivid, baroque pop balladry, Casey MQ reorients his recording project and point of view under the notion that memories are malleable. All the joy, pain, love, and loss housed within remembrance is open to interpretation and deconstruction, which he does deftly, with curiosity and complete artistic freedom. "It's a memory album," Casey puts it simply, winding up for the deeper unpacking, "and it might be a breakup album, too_there are more questions than answers." Engaging his dreams and sitting with sheet music at his newly acquired piano, he looked to new and old inspirations including the works of Claude Debussy, Joni Mitchell, and Joe Hisaishi's beloved Studio Ghibli film scores. "Since I was young, I always wanted to write a piano album." babycasey's studied electronic sound isn't wholly abandoned on Later that day... instead, it comes through like an atmosphere, giving Casey's more spacious, minimal arrangements a distinct luster and sheen. The textures and tones shift from song to song as if mirroring the way our minds constantly recontextualize, remember, and forget. Cathartic opener "Grey Gardens" _ its title derived from a dream abstractly related to the Toronto restaurant, but not the 1975 film, which he cites as another coincidental false memory _ presents the record's plaintive, haunted feeling. "Even if not reading into lyrics, sonically I wanted it to feel like you're being pulled into a universe. Not fantasy or otherworldly per se, something more tangible, of the body and mind," Casey says. "Hearing it back, I realized this track was the key to unlocking it." His tender falsetto hovers above ambient washes and echoed keys, each word falling carefully in the crevices. "Asleep At The Wheel" unfolds on arpeggiated synth before a burst of symphonic color; the synth returns inverted to harmonize with the outro, "I love a car crash, I love a story, I love a memory, I swear it's real..." Casey leans into digital imagination on the warm, introspective "Me I Think I Found It." Subdued, stuttered percussion underscores the singer as he cycles through pixelated imagery _ screenshots, smiles, streetlights _ searching for higher meaning through love. Built on ascendent chord distortions, "Dying Til I'm Born" gives the record one of its boldest pulses of emotion. The back half stretches out; "Is This Only Water" is sparse and foggy, "Baby Voice" is intimate and desperate for something to remain. "Words For Love" grooves on guitar, and "Tennisman9" aches in heartbreak. French musician Marylou Mayniel, aka Oklou, appears as the collection's only guest for the closing duet, "The Make Believe," a bright and buoyant send-off that gives Later that day... both a sense of resolve and cyclical-motion. "We are young, under the sun," they sing together, a parting image brimming with lightness.

"Remembering is not the opposite of forgetting," Casey MQ sings at the start of Later that day, the day before, or the day before that, his new LP and Ghostly International debut. It's a phrase fittingly misremembered from something the LA-based, Canadian-born composer came upon as he spiraled into unconscious and subconscious-led writing sessions at the piano. Casey's known for his 2020 breakthrough release babycasey, which gave voice to songs seen through the lens of childhood, various film score work and collaborations with artists such as Oklou (who returns here), Eartheater, and Vagabon. His gifts as a producer and songwriter are rooted in textural world-building and the excavation of personal truth. With Later that day... he questions what is true entirely, understanding our mind's tendency to bend and project onto pictures of the past. Across vivid, baroque pop balladry, Casey MQ reorients his recording project and point of view under the notion that memories are malleable. All the joy, pain, love, and loss housed within remembrance is open to interpretation and deconstruction, which he does deftly, with curiosity and complete artistic freedom. "It's a memory album," Casey puts it simply, winding up for the deeper unpacking, "and it might be a breakup album, too_there are more questions than answers." Engaging his dreams and sitting with sheet music at his newly acquired piano, he looked to new and old inspirations including the works of Claude Debussy, Joni Mitchell, and Joe Hisaishi's beloved Studio Ghibli film scores. "Since I was young, I always wanted to write a piano album." babycasey's studied electronic sound isn't wholly abandoned on Later that day... instead, it comes through like an atmosphere, giving Casey's more spacious, minimal arrangements a distinct luster and sheen. The textures and tones shift from song to song as if mirroring the way our minds constantly recontextualize, remember, and forget. Cathartic opener "Grey Gardens" _ its title derived from a dream abstractly related to the Toronto restaurant, but not the 1975 film, which he cites as another coincidental false memory _ presents the record's plaintive, haunted feeling. "Even if not reading into lyrics, sonically I wanted it to feel like you're being pulled into a universe. Not fantasy or otherworldly per se, something more tangible, of the body and mind," Casey says. "Hearing it back, I realized this track was the key to unlocking it." His tender falsetto hovers above ambient washes and echoed keys, each word falling carefully in the crevices. "Asleep At The Wheel" unfolds on arpeggiated synth before a burst of symphonic color; the synth returns inverted to harmonize with the outro, "I love a car crash, I love a story, I love a memory, I swear it's real..." Casey leans into digital imagination on the warm, introspective "Me I Think I Found It." Subdued, stuttered percussion underscores the singer as he cycles through pixelated imagery _ screenshots, smiles, streetlights _ searching for higher meaning through love. Built on ascendent chord distortions, "Dying Til I'm Born" gives the record one of its boldest pulses of emotion. The back half stretches out; "Is This Only Water" is sparse and foggy, "Baby Voice" is intimate and desperate for something to remain. "Words For Love" grooves on guitar, and "Tennisman9" aches in heartbreak. French musician Marylou Mayniel, aka Oklou, appears as the collection's only guest for the closing duet, "The Make Believe," a bright and buoyant send-off that gives Later that day... both a sense of resolve and cyclical-motion. "We are young, under the sun," they sing together, a parting image brimming with lightness.

From multiple Emmy Award-winning creators David Benioff and D. B. Weiss (Game of Thrones), and Emmy-nominated Alexander Woo (The Terror: Infamy, True Blood) comes 3 Body Problem, a thrilling story that redefines sci-fi drama with its layered mysteries and genre-bending high stakes. Based on the acclaimed, international bestselling book trilogy, The Three-Body Problem. A young woman's fateful decision in 1960s China reverberates across space and time to a group of brilliant scientists in the present day. As the laws of nature unravel before their eyes five former colleagues reunite to confront the greatest threat in humanity's history.

The anticipated series features a score by the multiple award-winning composer Ramin Djawadi, who is best known for scoring memorable themes and dynamic pieces for films and series including Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, and Westworld. The acclaimed composer has received two Primetime Emmy Awards, was nominated for five more, and received three nominations for a Grammy Award.

3 Body Problem is available as a limited edition on translucent blue coloured vinyl, includes an insert and sticker sheet.

Born in 1977, in Malang, East Java, Wukir Suryadi began playing music for theatre at the age of 12 with the Idiot The-ater Studio, and later with the Rendra Theater Workshop. In his solo work, and as a member of Senyawa, Error Scream, Bendera Hitam Setengah, Potro Joyo and other groups, Wukir breaks the boundaries of traditional music, death metal and avant-garde performance. On this new release, “Cycle and Prayer,” recorded in 2023, he expands the edges of his unique artistic world further, by digging in to meditative improvisation, art, and community building in his home workshop in the mountains of central Java. These recordings vibrate inwards, toward the microcosmic ecologies of forests and rivers; they distort outwards, resonating with global waves of apocalyptic change that are forcing all living beings to the edges of existence on earth. The result is a meditative poem that moves, as its titles an-nounce, from phenomena to phenomena, praying that humans find a way out from the depths of the depths to the light that illuminates the soul.
An essential mode of creative work for Wukir is the creation of unique instruments, using these sound sources as “bullets of expression.” In addition to the spear-like tube zither Bambu Wukir, he has created the Solet, Enthong, Garu, Luku, Arrows, and Industrial Mutant instruments, which in addition to being used in live performance, have been exhibited in the Instrument Builders Project and the 2017 Jakarta Biennale. In the past few years, Wukir has begun to collaborate with local guitar makers, carpenters, and suppliers of native endemic wood in the mountain region of Salatiga. Using earthen bricks along with local woods (suren, coconut, mindi, and waru lengis) as building materials, he constructed a new studio and workshop space in Tingkir, where this album was made. The trees, water and air of the local environment have exerted a powerful influence in Wukir’s documentations of instrumental sound. On this recording, he uses the simple Cetta guitar, an instrument designed in Bali and made for Indonesian children and local communities of folk and popular musicians, in order to explore the different sonic characteristics of a more “normal” instrument built from local wood.
The themes of the album -- cycle and prayer -- arise from a foreboding series of meta-events that shook Indonesia and the world over the past years, following one after the other: the COVID-19 pandemic, the Ukrainian-Russian war, the Kanjuruhan Stadium tragedy in which football supporters were gassed and killed by police, revelations of govern-ment failures and corruption, the rise of personal vehicles, the increasing disturbance of natural patterns of the rainy season and other ecological cycles. “In these waves of technology and narratives of truth made for certain interests, playing a sound at a certain frequency and repeating can try to bring images and feelings to a certain point of con-sciousness,” Wukir told me. “Sound is a prayer that creates a change, whether gradual or rapid, in the behaviour of living things, to face the demands of the time, as humans struggle to live according to what they believe.” The draw-ings and sketches used for the cover spontaneously emerged alongside the recordings, as an instinctive depiction of “time and sound, nature that is outside of oneself, and nature that is within.”

One of the most successful and enjoyable debuts in history, The Cars' self-titled album doubles as a greatest-hits collection. That's because not one song here is unrecognized or unknown. A huge reason why the Boston quintet became America's most popular new-wave band, The Cars launched eight tracks still regularly heard on radio stations everywhere. Consider the hit list: "You're All I've Got Tonight." "Good Times Roll." "Just What I Needed." "Moving in Stereo." "My Best Friend's Girl." "Don't Cha Stop." If you're a fan of pop music, this album is mandatory. Just call it the best new-wave rock album ever made.

And now, The Cars sounds better than it has in any previous incarnation. Mastered from the original analogue tapes, Mobile Fidelity's numbered-edition LP allows the music's oscillating rhythms, futuristic keyboard passages, panned stereo images, and rippling textures to be experienced like never before. The songs take on a surreal quality, the Cars manipulating the vibrant music at will to mesmerize the listeners' senses and hold them at bay. Mobile Fidelity's pressing epitomizes the sensation of "moving in stereo."

Led by Ric Ocasek and Benjamin Orr, the Cars managed to unite then-disparate styles: bubblegum pop melodies, angular art rock, progressive arrangements, and terse minimalism. Orr's low, understated singing and Ocasek's cool, detached vocals lend shades of doubt and double meaning to the lyrics, which are further counterbalanced by orchestral keyboard flourishes and electronic beats. The brilliant arrangements also benefit from a laidback cool and understated irony that remain uncommon in the over-the-top world of mainstream music. Obsessed with incorporating the latest technologies and sounds into its palette, the band spiced its tunes with delightfully quirky accents — country-tinged guitar fills, echoing Syndrums, reggae splashes, hard-rock tones, robotic pulses.

The results are the sounds of a creative landmark. At once accessible and eccentric, edgy and catchy, The Cars explodes with emotion, energy, and hooks. It's impossible not to get caught up humming and singing along to every song, an appeal that comes courtesy of Roy Thomas Baker's stellar production. The legendary producer, best known for his work with Queen, ensured that the record seamlessly packed a smooth midrange, spacious imaging, and call-and-answer choruses in one tight package. Baker's trademark touches with harmony vocals abound.

"The MoFi disc is much better than the original in every way. It's more dynamic, much more natural on top, and all three dimensions have a lot bigger space. This disc is great from start to finish, but "Moving in Stereo" will blow you away on a great system in a big room."
—Jeff Dorgay, TONEAudio

Warehouse Find!

Azymuth drummer Ivan 'Mamao' Conti's forthcoming self-titled solo project, remixed by West London broken beat pioneer IG Culture for a scorching club monster, alongside three future-funk remixes from 22a records family Tenderlonious, Reginald Omas Mamode IV and Jeen Bassa.

Ivan 'Mamao' Conti is one of the greatest drummers on earth. A true rhythmic innovator, he is Brazil's answer to Tony Allen, Steve Gadd, and Bernard Purdie (no small claim considering the country's famed samba connection). Known by most as one third of Azymuth, his career spans far beyond with over half a century's worth for recordings with the likes of Milton Nascimento, Eumir Deodato, Marcos Valle, Hyldon, Gal Costa and Jorge Ben. More recently Mamao recorded an album with hip-hop royalty Madlib under the shared moniker 'Jackson Conti'.

Now aged seventy, Mamao's work ethic is as strong as ever. In anticipation of a new Ivan Conti solo album set for release in 2017, Far Out Recordings have commissioned a series of remixes to be spread across two separate 12's. The first is a strictly London affair, with a fiery broken-boogie club monster from West London pioneer IG Culture, joined by the signature future-funk of 22a Records family Tenderlonious, Reginald Omas Mamode IV and Jeen Bassa. The second 12' will host remixes from Max Graef, Glenn Astro and Contours.

Walt Disney Animation Studios’ “Wish” is an all-new musical-comedy welcoming audiences to the magical kingdom of Rosas, where Asha, a sharp-witted idealist, makes a wish so powerful that it is answered by a cosmic force—a little ball of boundless energy called Star. Together, Asha and Star confront a most formidable foe—the ruler of Rosas, King Magnifico—to save her community and prove that when the will of one courageous human connects with the magic of the stars, wondrous things can happen. Featuring original songs by Grammy®-nominated singer/songwriter Julia Michaels and Gramm winning producer/songwriter/musician Benjamin Rice.

Run-D.M.C.'s Raising Hell remains the turning point at which hip-hop crashed through mainstream barriers and never left. Anchored by the crossover smash "Walk This Way," the 1986 blockbuster still sounds like a revolution unfolding in real time. It has everything – hard-rock riffs, turntable scratching, itchy rhythms, hit singles – not the least of which are the trio's invigorating raps and inseparable chemistry. And now it's the first rap record afforded audiophile treatment, courtesy of Mobile Fidelity.

Sourced from the original master tapes and pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl, the reissue label's numbered-edition 180g 33RPM SuperVinyl LP elevates Raising Hell to sonic heights on par with its musical and cultural significance. Ranked the 123rd Greatest Album of All Time by Rolling Stone, 43rd on Pitchfork's Greatest Albums of the 1980s, one of the Top 100 Albums of All Time by TIME – and included on "Best of" lists by Spin, Paste, XXL, Entertainment Weekly, and basically every other significant media outlet – the triple-platinum effort rocks the house.

Benefitting from the ultra-low noise floor and groove definition of SuperVinyl, Raising Hell unleashes a torrent of massive dynamics and tsunami of frequency-plumbing details underlined by Rick Rubin's taut, crisp, albeit raw and streetwise production. Just as the Queens-based group both defined what hip-hop could represent – and displayed just how big it could get – Rubin's work melded ear-worm hooks, savvy drum loops, metal-leaning guitars, and, of course, Run and D.M.C.'s cross-fire lyrical interplay into watertight frameworks bursting with ideas, tones, samples, and beats. Heard anew on Mobile Fidelity vinyl, Raising Hell is in every regard the aural equivalent of a direct-to-console 1970s classic. And it sounds as fresh as hell.

As for the music, it ranks among the most influential, inventive, and invigorating ever released – rap or otherwise. Vanguard artists such as Ice-T, Eminem, Jay-Z, and Public Enemy's Chuck D – who declared it his all-time favorite and "the first record that made me realize this was an album-oriented genre" – have testified on behalf of its brilliance. And never mind the presence of the Top 5 single "Walk This Way," whose power helped make Aerosmith's Steven Tyler and Joe Perry relevant for the first time in nearly a decade – and literally put Run-D.M.C. in bedrooms ranging from the Bronx to Bartlett to Bad Axe.

Look instead to the rest of the entirely filler-free set, be it the corkscrew turns, slippery wordplay, and "My Sharona"-meets-"Mickey" mixology of the boisterous "It's Tricky," the fat-but-minimized bass grooves and warped turntable wobble of the hysterical "You Be Illin'," chimes-accented inertia and boombox-on- shoulder thunder of the now-iconic "Peter Piper," or voice-as-percussion attack of the funky "Is It Live." With Raising Hell, the answer to the question is always affirmative – a sensation bolstered by the fact the group always had something to say.

The definition of Golden Age Hip-Hop in every way, Run-D.M.C. avoids the negativity and misogyny that later plagued the style, spinning assertive tales about identity (the biographical and culture-changing "My Adidas"), work ethics ("Perfection"), and, most notably, pride (the Harriet Tubman- and Malcom X.-referencing "Proud to Be Black"). Pavement-packed inner cities, tree-lined suburbs, and cornfield-rimmed rural areas would never again be the same. And rocking a rhyme that's right on time would become trickier than ever.

Svart Records proudly presents Pekka Pohjola's "Heavy Jazz - Live in Helsinki" for the first time on vinyl! Legendary Finnish composer and bassist Pekka Pohjola, known from his work in Wigwam, Made In Sweden, touring with Mike Oldfield and having a successful solo career, caught live at Tavastia Club, Helsinki, Finland on April 18th 1995. Joining Pohjola (bass) on stage are Seppo Kantonen (keyboards), Markku Kanerva (guitars) and Anssi Nykänen (drums). During his long career that took him from riding the Finnish prog rock wave to the heavy jazz rock heights of the 1990s, Pekka Pohjola tried his hand in many things. Heavy Jazz has previously only been released on CD in 1995 and 2011 by Pohjola Records and will now finally be available on wax as well. Heavy Jazz is presented on a 2LP edition of classic black vinyl. Limited to 500 copies.

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.

‘Time Will Tell’ : A journey in reggae music from Bristol to Kingston JA.

Embark on the wild journey of a reggae-loving Bristolian youngster who travelled to the heart of Jamaica on intrepid mission to record a timeless reggae album in the 90s. ‘Time Will Tell’, a collaborative masterpiece uniting the extraordinary talents of Henry & Louis (Andy Scholes & Jac kLundie), Blue & Red (aka Rob Smith from Smith & Mighty) and renowned Jamaican and UK-basedv ocalists.A musical opus that infuses reggae's rich history into modern rhythms straight outta Bristol.

It all began in the summer of 1997, when Andy Scholes decided to trace the origins of reggae music straight back to its origins; armed with a 16-track reel-to-reel and an abundance of passion,he flew to Jamaica with a desire to record his reggae heroes over riddims built by Rob & Jack in Bristol.

Through a series of unexpected events Andy crossed paths with UB40 in the streets of Kingston.He built a friendship with the band and their lead singer, the legendary Ali Campbell took a ninterest in the project, generously giving Andy free access to his studio in Port Maria allowing him to bring life to ‘Time Will Tell’.

Scholes got in the studio with various Jamaican artists and recorded with Tony Tuff, Prince Green, and Johnny Clarke, each contributing their distinct voices and adding to the album's spiritual and conscious themes. The mystical vibe continued with the participation of other artists like Ghadian, Shalom, Pacey, Ben Dice, and Kerosene Oil, each bringing their own authentic style to the project.

The making of ‘Time Will Tell’ required time, dedication, and the synergy of a like-minded collective. The album embodies the warmth and transformative power of music serving as a driving force for positive change.

22 years after its initial release, the album is freshly remastered and reissued onto 12” vinyl by Dubquake Records!

Four years after they went all the way to Antarctica, Flat Worms are back in gen pop with the rest of us - but, as intoned on the album opener "Sigalert," "back again like I never was." Is this a nod to the way time passes over our sorely vexed synapses? Or are we to believe that there"s hope to be found in this broken world? Kick back with Witness Marks and see what other traces Flat Worms have left us in the dust. The album title alone leaves a foreboding impression. But look closer - "witness marks" aren"t something out of a forensic analysis - they"re actually practical; scratches placed in old clocks designed to aid continued maintenance further in time. Sure, there"s big questions and more on the board; primarily if we"re at all distinct from the absurdity coming down around us, or just another character in the mirror? Flat Worms are looking inward this time, outlining personal space in relation to themselves and others - sometimes even people they barely know. Among the slabs of slategrey outrage, the flowers of compassion are blooming, and the simmering power of their trio grows exponentially. Working once again with Ty Segall, Flat Worms continue to find new answers by digging into themselves and playing their kind of rock: hard and flat, bass and drums thrusting stalwartly forward with conviction, guitar twisting and spinning in outrage, deadpan vocals decrying a dire set of circumstances. The democracy of working together, so often messy and frustrating, was found to be a powerful release for Justin, Tim and Will. Acting as one, Flat Worms navigated challenging times by coming together, finding release in the clockwork repetitions of practice and the shared creative space they occupied together against the encroaching world. In the short century of their existence, Flat Worms have agitated against the status quo with a disquieting lyric bent, to emphasize the psychosis of the times. These are positions taken within songs, sung out to individuals in the world. As evidenced by the lyrics, "But I know I can always see you at the show Even though it"s only temporary and it"s time to go." . . .Witness Marks surveys an evolving sense of community. Flat Worms are dedicated to persevering and using the power of their collective. Come witness!

Four years after they went all the way to Antarctica, Flat Worms are back in gen pop with the rest of us - but, as intoned on the album opener "Sigalert," "back again like I never was." Is this a nod to the way time passes over our sorely vexed synapses? Or are we to believe that there"s hope to be found in this broken world? Kick back with Witness Marks and see what other traces Flat Worms have left us in the dust. The album title alone leaves a foreboding impression. But look closer - "witness marks" aren"t something out of a forensic analysis - they"re actually practical; scratches placed in old clocks designed to aid continued maintenance further in time. Sure, there"s big questions and more on the board; primarily if we"re at all distinct from the absurdity coming down around us, or just another character in the mirror? Flat Worms are looking inward this time, outlining personal space in relation to themselves and others - sometimes even people they barely know. Among the slabs of slategrey outrage, the flowers of compassion are blooming, and the simmering power of their trio grows exponentially. Working once again with Ty Segall, Flat Worms continue to find new answers by digging into themselves and playing their kind of rock: hard and flat, bass and drums thrusting stalwartly forward with conviction, guitar twisting and spinning in outrage, deadpan vocals decrying a dire set of circumstances. The democracy of working together, so often messy and frustrating, was found to be a powerful release for Justin, Tim and Will. Acting as one, Flat Worms navigated challenging times by coming together, finding release in the clockwork repetitions of practice and the shared creative space they occupied together against the encroaching world. In the short century of their existence, Flat Worms have agitated against the status quo with a disquieting lyric bent, to emphasize the psychosis of the times. These are positions taken within songs, sung out to individuals in the world. As evidenced by the lyrics, "But I know I can always see you at the show Even though it"s only temporary and it"s time to go." . . .Witness Marks surveys an evolving sense of community. Flat Worms are dedicated to persevering and using the power of their collective. Come witness!

When picturing the German techno scene, one likely imagines the concrete monoliths of its capital city Berlin rather than the vineyards and valleys of the enchanting city of Stuttgart in the southwest. But small cities lack the oversaturation and noise of the metropolis, allowing them to develop their own inspired and distinctive subcultural visions. Stuttgart’s David Löhlein exemplifies this potential, manifesting a singular style of sight and sound through his Vision Ektase project and residency at Lehmann Club. Now, Löhlein’s warm-blooded techno is slinking, slithering and seducing its way through BNR, with the upcoming Hotel Pool EP release.

There’s no hesitation before plunging into the EP’s titular track, with its rushing fingered basslines and rolling polyrhythms. Löhlein cites solo travels in Columbia as the source of his Latin influences, and one hears them throughout “Hotel Pool” in vocal and percussive samples. Elements more commonly found in Latin and tribal house feel uncommonly fresh once Löhlein recontextualizes them within a 144 bpm techno foundation. The words “groovy” and “sexy” are usually reserved for the stuff of Buddha Bar compilations, but “Hotel Pool” is exhilarating because it serves both of the former and none of the latter.

A stream of hedonism flows beneath all of the four-tracker, but if the opener is erotic, A2 “La Piscina” is psychedelic. The bass flutters like a mescaline come-up, as infinite loops of chattering voices and deep bamboo pipe notes mesmerize. Again, Löhlein takes certain genre tropes - in this case from psytrance - and transposes them through his own stylistic signature with thrilling results. Ask Löhlein if he likes psytrance and the answer might be “Yes, when it’s techno.”

Leading the flip, “Cuando Vengas” heats up around a dark and sticky loop of ambiguous, organic origin. Here Löhlein’s masterful sample and drum programming is clearly on display, with vocal chops and subtle rhythmic variations leading the dancefloor to shivering bliss. The EP closes with “I Just Want,” a sparse, cold, and bitcrushed stalker of a track that seems to answer Baudrillard’s famed question “What are you doing after the orgy?” That the Hotel Pool EP’s wild romp ends in the Berlin oeuvre perhaps proves the city’s primacy in the German techno scene, but after a few listens one begins to wonder what rare pleasures they’ve been missing in David Löhlein’s Stuttgart.

The life-affirming energy at the heart of Sven Väth‘s recent album Catharsis is revisited, reanimated, and remixed by some of the most exciting names around, closing the circle on a superlative burst of
recent work that has not only given us the epic original LP, but also the extraordinary compilation What I Used To Play.

Roman Flügel, Benjamin Damage, Robert Hood, Planetary Assault Systems, Mano Le Tough… do we need to go on? This hand-picked list of luminaries have answered the call and certainly don’t disappoint, each fusing their signature sound with Sven‘s DNA to create a wild, uncompromising companion piece to the original album.

True to form, the running order is very much rooted on the dance floor, Silvi‘s Dream, revisited by Damiano von Erckert, explodes like a Balearic sunrise. Dreamy strings with a touch of Detroit create a lovely atmosphere while the beautiful piano sound goes right into your heart and appears as if you could feel the warm sun on your skin. Roman Flügel’s acidic rework of What I Used To Play is a homage to the 80s and the early sound of electronic music which creates nostalgic feelings and offers a greatly produced retro soundscape à la Kraftwerk. Staying close to the original, but with the perfect amount of spin, it’s a symbiotic interplay of synthetic bass pads, and a tiny bell melody. Robag Wruhme’s cranking minimal funk takes us down The Worm-hole. A concise interference sound builds
up sustained tension, tangled but structured, deep and yet driving. Robag took over the deep and dirty rhythms of the original perfectly and delivers a versatile piece. This opening salvo oozes quality and
sets things up perfectly for the electrified celebration of hi-octane technology come.

Jonathan Kaspar‘s growling interpretation of We Are provides a melancholic atmosphere with fascinating percussion parts. Zaps shoot through the air like small laser pistols while we let ourselves
be carried away by the bass, the frisky vocal stutter effect is the icing on the cake. Speeding things up, the euphoric trance that engulfs Krystal Klear’s epic version of Feiern. Expansive strings increase up
to ecstasy and guide us to a love-filled unity. This remix is sure to be an excellent peak-time smasher for the open-air season. On to a wild ride of pure techno with Benjamin Damage, who delivers a dry and uncompromising Berlin Techno version of Mystic Voices. Harder pace but the string synthesizer harmony brings light to an otherwise gloomy environment. Next up is Luke Slater’s PAS Deep Heet Mix to add a retro nineties vibe to proceedings on Nyx. Entering a rough space with gigantic clap impacts, we are blessed with straightforward Techno. Shimmering and spooling, this groove hits the
mark. Then, as if it was ever in doubt, Sven‘s lofty place in the techno firmament is underlined by a peak-time contribution by non-less than Detroit legend Robert Hood. Unmistakable, you must recognize the signature Robert Hood drive on Butoh. Chord stabs fulfill the Detroit feeling with offtaking string elements and high-energy vocal transformations. It’s a warm embrace that triggers emotions. Planetary Assault Systems then blasts things ever deeper into the cosmos on a second outing of Nyx. Reduced and to the point but of course, true to form, with powerful tribal percussion parts and intensive cutting hi-hats.

From there on in, the collection gradually re-enters the atmosphere, burning with a phosphorescent, melancholy glow. Harald Björk extrapolates Being In Love into a hypnotic groove for the early hours. A playful and atmospheric electronica interpretation to soothe our souls due to disharmonious synth pads and a dreamy deformation of the original melody. Mano Le Tough harnesses the ethno-rhythms
and brooding energy of Catharsis into a low-slung, tribal stomper. Anomalous organ parts ring out and link up with a trance-like sequence, summer feelings arouse as you feel like you can almost smell Ibizan air. The collection comes full circle with a second equally seductive interpretation of Silvi‘s Dream by Florian Hollerith. Stripped-down and hypnotic, the homage to Sven's girlfriend Silvi is extended as a reverence to Sven himself. Sven's profound vocal clearly infuse time and space and leave a forever-lasting memory of love.

By accident or design, it somehow leaves us with the reassuring sense that, although this specific part of the journey may be drawing to a close, the mission of the man behind it all most definitely isn't.

written & produced by: Sven Väth & Gregor Tresher

GAZELLE TWIN - aka composer, producer, singer, and visual artist Elizabeth Bernholz - has scored Sky's brand new TV series "Then You Run".

Created for television by Ben Chanan (The Capture), based on the novel YOU by Zoran Drvenkar, Then You Run follows four rebellious London teenagers on a city getaway to Rotterdam. This contemporary eight-part series boasts an incredible cast of rising stars; Leah McNamara (Normal People) as Tara, Vivian Oparah (Rye Lane) as Stink, Yasmin Monet Prince (Hanna) as Ruth and newcomer Isidora Fairhurst as Nessi.

The four friends embark on what should have been the perfect summer break which soon spirals into a dark and perilous adventure. When their attempt to take on some of the most dangerous people in Europe doesn’t quite go to plan, they find themselves on the run with three kilos of heroin, more questions than answers about Tara’s family, and a gang of deadly criminals tracking their every move.

Invada Records have previously released two recent Gazelle Twin scores (2020’s Nocturne and 2021’s The Power).

Her 2018 acclaimed album Pastoral was described by Pitchfork as “...belonging to a proud tradition of English satire, plumbing the depths of the nation’s psyche and twisting it to wryly discomforting ends”.

Lucy has been a prominent figure on the UK folk scene for many years with her
skills much in demand by a plethora of esteemed folk artists, which has meant
her solo career has taken a back seat. Until now.
'We are only Sound' was recorded in the glorious medieval surrounds of Much
Wenlock Abbey, home to Nick Drake's sister Gabrielle who gifted the recording
space - as well as the use of her brother's instruments - through a mutual friend.
Specifically, Nick Drake's piano and guitar were tuned and used in the recording
bestowing a unique quality to the album. Songs were recorded together, in one
room, in one take.
Lucy's crystalline vocals are highlighted by sparse accompaniment: the exquisite
melodies interwoven with intricate - yet delicate - guitar playing and subtle
electronic touches. Songs are introspective and dreamy, written over a span of
eight years during which Lucy experienced motherhood, breakups and all that
comes with such heart and life changing events. "I think these themes and ideas
are universal," she says. "They would resonate for other people too." Lucy
continues, "I find it hard to articulate my thoughts in sentences - it's much easier
to muse through them in songs. It's how I work through my feelings. There's a lot
of wonderings in them, but no answers".
Lucy is joined by Kris Drever (Lau) on guitar and vocals, Ben Nichols (Nadine
Shah) on double bass, Tom Lenthall on piano, Neil McSweeney on bass and M G
Boulter on slide guitar.

Lucy has been a prominent figure on the UK folk scene for many years with her
skills much in demand by a plethora of esteemed folk artists, which has meant
her solo career has taken a back seat. Until now.
'We are only Sound' was recorded in the glorious medieval surrounds of Much
Wenlock Abbey, home to Nick Drake's sister Gabrielle who gifted the recording
space - as well as the use of her brother's instruments - through a mutual friend.
Specifically, Nick Drake's piano and guitar were tuned and used in the recording
bestowing a unique quality to the album. Songs were recorded together, in one
room, in one take.
Lucy's crystalline vocals are highlighted by sparse accompaniment: the exquisite
melodies interwoven with intricate - yet delicate - guitar playing and subtle
electronic touches. Songs are introspective and dreamy, written over a span of
eight years during which Lucy experienced motherhood, breakups and all that
comes with such heart and life changing events. "I think these themes and ideas
are universal," she says. "They would resonate for other people too." Lucy
continues, "I find it hard to articulate my thoughts in sentences - it's much easier
to muse through them in songs. It's how I work through my feelings. There's a lot
of wonderings in them, but no answers".
Lucy is joined by Kris Drever (Lau) on guitar and vocals, Ben Nichols (Nadine
Shah) on double bass, Tom Lenthall on piano, Neil McSweeney on bass and M G
Boulter on slide guitar.

‘’Ace Todmorden label makes a significant discovery on its own doorstep: a superb cache of ‘loner folk’ songs recorded in the early-70s by Hebden Bridge’s answer to Nick Drake’’ UNCUT PLAYLIST

"This is music that can confidently hold its own with pioneers such as Davey Graham, Michael Chapman, Bert Jansch and Jackson C Frank, as influenced by jazz, blues and steel guitar as any of the old songbook classics from ancient Albion.” Benjamin Myers
"Defiantly Northern and out of this world" Folk Radio

Anti-counter culture loner folk from a teenage attic in the heart of rural Northern hippiedom.
Today the valley town of Hebden Bridge in West Yorkshire is world-renowned as something of a bohemian backwater. It wasn’t like this back in the late 1960s and the early 1970s, when a disparate selection of radicals, drop-outs, heads, musicians, artists and writers started to be attracted to the Calder Valley. Local lad and future poet laureate Ted Hughes called the area “the fouled nest of industrialisation”.
Over time, those seeds of radicalism and collectivism ensured Hebden Bridge evolved into a place where people could be themselves and all shades of individual oddness not only tolerated but actively encouraged. But back at the turn of the dreary 1970s it remained a monochrome world defined by its unforgiving surrounding landscapes, where the old gritstone over-dwellings were stained with soot and rain lashed down for weeks.
It was here that Trevor Beales, who was born in 1953, grew up, and from where he drew musical and lyrical inspiration.
Perhaps it was this dual nationality heritage, unusual in the valley’s largely white working class population at the time, that gave the teenager Trevor Beale’s music an outsider’s perspective. The discovery of Bob Dylan, Django Reinhardt, The Byrds and James Taylor at a young age, lead to him picking up a guitar at the age of ten, and he was soon writing his own originals and performing them at local (though often remote) folk clubs and pubs.
Recorded in the attic of the family home at Ivy Bank in Charlestown on the verdant wooded slopes at the edge of Hebden Bridge between 1971 and 1974, these early recordings are collected here for the first time and mark Trevor Beales long-overdue solo debut.
In these songs is a suffer-no-fools sense of realism that is defiantly Northern, yet also expresses a worldliness that belies Beales’ young years, whilst also showcasing an inherent storyteller’s ear for narrative. Here is a postcard from the past at that crucial musical period of transition, when the idealistic exponents of the 1960s emerged into an austere new decade that was to be shaped by strikes, rising unemployment and economic upheaval.
Two aspects of this music make it remarkable: Beales’ natural ability showcases a sophisticated guitar-picking style that was leagues ahead of many of his (older, more recognised) contemporaries. This is music that can confidently hold its own with pioneers such as Davey Graham, Michael Chapman, Dave Evans, Bert Jansch and Jackson C Frank, as influenced by jazz, blues and steel guitar as any of the old songbook classics from ancient Albion.
Secondly, his lyrics are a far cry from either the naïve bedroom scribblings of a teenager who has barely left his upland home, nor do they fall foul of the type of lazy cliches and sub-Tolkien imagery that was still in abundance in the early 1970s. Most remarkably the earliest songs here were laid down less than a year after he left school (an unearthed report written by his headteacher on July 3rd 1970 noted he had “a considerable ability and interest in music”, though his education ended abruptly when he simply walked out of a science lesson one sunny day while at sixth form, never to return).
Trevor’s music is grounded in reality – his reality. ‘Then I’ll Take You Home’, for example, considers the Guru Marajai, who encouraged his acolytes to give over their worldly possessions, yet who drove a Rolls Royce and lived like a playboy. Unsurprisingly, this latest in a long line of spiritual charlatans found several followers in Hebden Bridge, and Beales casts a disdainful eye over the growing popularity for such false prophets.
With its ancient narratives and propensity for myth-making, folk has certainly produced it’s fair share of cult figures who have enjoyed rediscovery or career resurgence and with this debut compilation of home recordings, rescued from cassette tapes, Trevor Beales might just be the latest addition. Certainly he was the real deal.
Crucially, Beales' music is never jaded or cynical, but instead possesses a poet’s ear, a strong sense of self and some sound critical faculties. And much of it recorded at an age when he could neither vote nor order a pint of heavy.
Trevor Beales died suddenly and unexpectedly on March 29th 1987, aged 33. He left behind Christine and their young child Lydia.

Pink Blue Marbled Vinyl

Angelo is an EP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist and singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy's father and both of Stuart's parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo's sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, "to get us out of our grief and into our bodies," says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal _ a resourceful, collective answer to "what happens now?". Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. "Such a bro-y, `80s dude car, it's been super fun to drive around in a new town," Murphy says. "He's older than us, he's a classic, he's got a story." It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, "Which Way To The Club." The question is quickly resolved by "Take A Trip" as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip - the kind of imagined space or chamber within one's self capable of "shifting a fraction of who you are," says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be "as free as we could be," adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: "What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room." Next is "Shy Guy," a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: "We are in junior high, we're on the dance floor, what's going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?" The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. "Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too," Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one - something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, "It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission." "Angelo" and "Ooo La La" deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean's catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo's dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude "Colors" drifting into "Where Do We Go?", a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space. It all culminates in "Caldwell's Way," a fond farewell to their Bay Area community - "a part of my life that I knew couldn't come back," says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There's the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: "I'd rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars." And the song's namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. "I'm only miles away, maybe I'm just feeling lonely," the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and "Nostalgia" runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.

Chloé Robinson & DJ ADHD still aren’t short on fuel. In fact, they seem to only be boosted further by their own supply. With such a weighty momentum driving forward their newly established identities, only one big question sits adjacent in the saddle: what’s next? It seems that Chloé and Alex already have the answer for today’s daily summon, and for the next Pretty Weird release, it’s a 4-track techno record reiterating the trusted adage of less being more. With an emphasis on space and silence placed intuitively, the first single from the ‘Steamin’ EP finally gets its much anticipated drop - including a killer remix from close friend Four Tet stamped on in classic, inimitable style.

‘Steamin’ is all serrated kicks, 909 drums and tenacious vocals that yell without inhibition, invoking the looseness of a party spiralling unphased into its collective apex.. ‘Redbull’ scales up on the pyrotechnics and rowdy behaviour, taking the sensation of several shots of caffeine and packaging it into a mean, raucous pick-me-up.

For ‘Pax’, Chloé and Alex continue on the stripped back disorder with white-hot conviction through rhythm and textures that find their power through no-frills, unpretentious simplicity. Kieran Hebden steps up for the remix, nodding back in appreciation to the past through the nestling of a sharply redefined ‘Pulse X’ sample alongside his addictive, punchy production all too suited to those can’t-go-home-just-yet stints.

Early support from artists including Four Tet, Peggy Gou, Jamie XX, Floating Points, Ben UFO, Caribou, Skrillex, Mary Anne Hobbs, Bradley Zero, Bonobo, Saoirse, Zenker Brothers, TSHA, HAAi, I. Jordan, Logic1000 and Pearson Sound.

Sometimes, a change of view can transform a person’s world. On ‘Don’t Come Down’, the artist formerly known as Matt Pond PA can be found with his “shoulder on the concrete” of a pavement, scoping out the world anew. This granular realignment of perspective serves as an open door to the debut album from The Natural Lines. At once clearly Pond’s work yet a huge leap forward in its measured songcraft, melodic immediacy, collaborative detail and wryly questioning lyrics, the result is a gorgeous album of intimate reflections from a relocated, renamed, revivified talent.

Recorded with close collaborators and friends over a period that saw Pond make vital adjustments to his life, its stealth emergence reflects his desire to set a fresh pace for himself and come from somewhere new, somewhere more open.

Now based in Kingston, New York, with his partner and wild dog Willa, Matt explains the album’s gestation thus. “It was something different from the start. I wanted to write as purely as I could. Instead of getting stuck in the ‘tour, write an album, release an album, tour’ cycle, which is not a natural way of writing or living, I wanted to write an album and when it was done I wanted to make sure it was done. I didn’t want this feeling of, ‘Oh, we didn’t have time’, or, ‘I don’t know whether I believe in the songs but it’s coming out anyway.’ I used to be always racing to the finish line, but I’m not anymore.”

For Matt, the call to ring the changes came with the recognition of “a certain nihilism or narcissism” involved in making music. “In some ways, you have to get in your own head and I think I went too far with that, with drinking and shutting people out. In something that I believe is collaborative, it’s not helpful.”

“I quit lying,” he adds. “I checked my harsher tones. I cut my drinking down. I went to therapy and figured out how to stop shouting at cars.”

Car troubles inspire ‘No More Tragedies’, the album’s standout second track, where he wryly details his desire to dampen his twinned impulses to take pictures of license plates blocking his parking space or take bricks to said car windshields. Warming melodies and harmonies soothe his rage, a balance maintained elsewhere on the album.

A need for connection underpins the lilting ‘Alex Bell’, where Matt’s lyrics playfully reference the inventor of the telephone over a plaintive cello and bubbling keyboards – evidence of the album’s carefully nurtured arrangements. With nimble sequencing, ‘My Answer’ follows with a question: do artists really need to get messed-up to create? Matt may not have the answer, he admits, but he articulates the question beautifully, channelling the influence of Blue Öyster Cult’s ‘Don’t Fear The Reaper’ into a song of fleet, melodic electric-folk drive.

Featuring 17-year-old MJ Murphy on misty backing vocals, the softly insistent ‘Don’t Come Down’ is an album centrepiece, detailing a need to see things anew. Like The Flaming Lips writing a classicist piano ballad, the twinkling ‘Artificial Moonlight’ finds Matt writing late at night, illuminated by the lights from streetlamps. Finally, ‘Mahwah’ closes the album on a note of arrival. While Matt Pond PA’s albums emerged from the disconnection of touring and living in vans, Pond is now happily – cruel winters aside – ensconced in Kingston. “I have found a place I love. Mercury Rev lives near here. It is a cool place to be, an artistic, mountainous, wild place to live. So – maybe this is it.”

In the case of The Natural Lines, a sense of arrival suggests itself. For Matt, the album follows two decades’ worth of Matt Pond PA records and soundtrack works. In a career he once described as “a series of benign mistakes,” Matt travelled far, moving from his band’s starting point in Philadelphia to Florida, Oakland and beyond while releasing 14 well-received albums. In 2017, he declared his intent to retire the Matt Pond PA name, though it lived on briefly in the reissue of The State Of Gold and EPs such as Free Fall, a tribute to Philadelphia.

Now, the name change honours his collaborators. Among a revolving cast, one constant presence in his work has been Chris Hansen, who plays guitar, bass, keys, saxophone and vocals on The Natural Lines’ debut. Matt’s partner, Anya Marina, contributes vocals. Other band members number Hilary James (cello/vocals), Kyle Kelly-Yahner (drums), Louie Lino (keys), Sarah Hansen (horns), Sean Hansen (drums/bass), Kat Murphy (vocals) and, also on vocals, MJ Murphy, for whom Matt brims with praise: “She can do anything she wants to musically.”

A heartening rebirth for Pond and his friends, the result also pays warming, witty, reflective and infectious testimony to the value of reconfiguring one’s outlook. “Once I took control of my mind, I could see what I wanted to say more clearly,” says Matt. “Instead of random floods of mania and panic, I felt like I was composed and composing. It has become as simple as reading the words of a sentence in the right order. As small as the pause before I hit ‘send’.” A development, you might say, conducted along the most natural of lines.

Serenades returns with the continuation of a series of split-format releases that talk about living, working, creating and interacting with completely different people from different parts of the world.

Odopt and Dolphins have created enchanting and enigmatic pieces for different experiences – whether you’re left alone with your deep thoughts or on the contrary trying not to think about anything on a full dance floor. That’s the magic of music, in its monologue or dialogue with you, it can answer many of your questions.

Things were different when we started preparing this release and we couldn’t imagine what the year 2022 would throw us into, but we still try to remain committed to love, peace and mutual understanding.

No war!

Dolphins: Benedikt Frey, Markus Woernle, Nadia D'Alò.
Odopt: Grigory Nelyubin, Ivan Maslov.

Skins is a producer/DJ based in Leeds with an active history in dance music that goes back over 10 years. He cut his teeth DJing regularly at the legendary former Oxford nightclub The Cellar. He played here as part of the Subverse Radio collective as well as for other favourite local promoters, alongside a regular radio show on the aforementioned station which he co-founded. After moving to Leeds in 2016, Skins focused his attention on music production and self-released a string of white-label techno EPs which garnered support from artists such as Djrum, Jane Fitz and Mike Schommer of Deepchord.

More recently Skins has moved away from the dub techno sound with which he had become associated, with an EP from speed garage newcomers Spin City on heavy rotation with DJs including Evan Baggs, Andrew James Gustav and Sugar Free. His latest explorations have found him returning to the futuristic jungle stylings which originally drew him into the world of electronic music in his teens.

Whether it’s in the studio or behind the decks, Skins draws on a wide range of influences from hip hop, deep house and techno through dubstep and grime to jungle, with a preference for playing vinyl over three turntables. He has performed alongside the likes of Willow, Batu, Answer Code Request, Levon Vincent and Ben UFO.