quête:ben answer

Sugaring a Strawberry, the sophomore record from Julia, Julia, is a study in coming undone—on purpose. Recorded at COMA, Julia Kugel's home studio, and mixed through a custom Flickenger clone, the album drifts in and out of clarity like memory itself. It's emotionally retrospective, creatively unvarnished, and deeply human. You can hear it in the hiss, the warmth, in the vocals so raw they're like an open window. These songs weren't engineered for perfection. They were built to breathe. Her long-time collaborator and husband, Scott Montoya, mixes it all so loosely that you can hear the air between tracks— a space that makes the music feel inhabited rather than recorded.


"Bound" opens the album like a secret passed between sisters, solemn and unspeakably close. It begins with the softest of touches: hushed guitar, a near- whispered delivery that carries the intimacy of someone singing only for one other person. It's a love song, but not romantic, more ancestral in the way long bonds can be. All glow and undercurrent, "I Know," is like hearing someone hum through a wound. The track arrives as if it had been waiting, coiled and complete, to be sung. Its pulse is slow but insistent, anchored on a hypnotic loop and a vocal that's half-incantation, half-confession. One of the most outward-facing songs on the record, "Feeling Lucky," opens like a cigarette flicked in the dark– smoky and a little bit slick. Built on a skeletal beat and a nearly detached vocal, it leans into a sarcastic swagger that barely masks the ache beneath. The delivery is droll and glazed, the instrumentation is sparse and a little woozy, leaving space for her voice to sway—a shrug of a song, stylish in its sadness. "A Love That Hurts" drifts in on soft, fingerpicked guitar and a dry, close-mic vocal that feels both haunted and immediate. The mix is stripped down and analog-warm, letting tape hum and silence frame the emotion. Julia sings like she's remembering something she doesn't want to, each line a slight unraveling. Like the rest of the album, "A Love That Hurts" doesn't push toward resolution. It sits in the ache, sifts through it, makes it beautiful.

Sugaring a Strawberry doesn't seek catharsis so much as stumbles into it. There's a quiet volatility to these songs like they might fall apart if you press too hard. It moves in shadow and softness, asking questions it doesn't answer. It doesn’t end with closure. It ends with truth.

In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression.

A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.

Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.

Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.

Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter.

The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration.

Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be.

Comet Dust Red Vinyl. Jason Molina war ein Künstler, der nicht gerne zurückblickte. Während seines gesamten Lebens und seiner Karriere als Singer-Songwriter trieb ihn ein rastloser und sich ständig weiterentwickelnder kreativer Impuls voran, der seinen Fokus auf das Wesentliche richtete. Seine unermüdliche Kreativität und Arbeitsmoral trugen Früchte. In seinem kurzen Leben erreichte Molina das, wonach die meisten Musiker streben: einen Sound, der sofort wiedererkennbar ist, sich aber selten wiederholt. Von den Ufern des Eriesees in seiner Heimatstadt Lorain, Ohio, bis hin zu internationalen Bühnen mit seinen Bands Songs: Ohia und Magnolia Electric Co. spielte Molina sein umfangreiches Repertoire an geheimnisvollen, romantischen, stürmischen und monumentalen Songs, die gleichzeitig innovativ und in der amerikanischen Tradition verwurzelt waren. Er tüftelte ständig an seinem Sound, seinem Image, seiner Band und seinem Zuhause, um seine Muse zu befriedigen. Ein Tenor-Gitarre spielender Außenseiter. Ein liebeskranker Lo-Fi-Indie-Rocker. Ein trauriger Slowcore-Barde. Ein Pionier des Roots-Rock des 21. Jahrhunderts. Ein kanonischer Songwriter des Mittleren Westens. Jason Molina hat seine kreative Flagge in all diesen Bereichen gehisst - um seinen Anspruch zu markieren, um zu zeigen, wie weit er gekommen war, und um eine Spur wertvoller Talismane zu hinterlassen. Mit ,I Will Swim to You: A Tribute to Jason Molina" - benannt nach einer Zeile aus Molinas Song ,Lioness" - würdigen Run For Cover Records und eine Gruppe befreundeter Künstler den bleibenden Einfluss des Songwriters. Die Compilation mit Molina-Covers wurde von einigen der visionärsten Singer-Songwritern der Gegenwart eingespielt, darunter MJ Lenderman, Hand Habits, Horse Jumper of Love, Sun June und viele mehr, und enthält einzigartige Interpretationen von Molina-Fan-Favoriten und weniger bekannten Stücken aus seinen Soloalben und weniger bekannten EPs. Das Ergebnis ist eine unverwechselbare Liebeserklärung, eine oft atemberaubende Gesamtdarbietung generationenübergreifender Talente, die einem der begabtesten, aber unterschätzten amerikanischen Songwriter Tribut zollen.

The latest by Andrew Clinco's acid punk alias VR SEX takes its title from an architectural phrase but more importantly refers to the warped, wicked underworld the songs both chronicle and condemn. Donning the moniker Noel Skum - an acerbic anagram of Elon Musk - Clinco vents his scorn for and fascination with the seedy, surreal margins of low-life Los Angeles, doomed to dead ends of vanity, lust, and technology. Although initially launched as an outlet for "heavier sounds" beyond Clinco's duties in new wave fantasists Drab Majesty, the project has ripened into a compelling exercise in world building, weaving themes of gritty city neofuturist sleaze within a framework of driving, distorted guitars and cathode-blasted synths. Echoes of Chrome, Wire, Minimal Man, and Sisters Of Mercy ripple through the collection but ultimately Rough Dimension charts its own twisted vision of "our unforgiving reality." Written and demoed across two weeks alone in a Marseille flat using his prized 1980's Gibson "Invader" and a laptop, Clinco then took the tracks to Strange Weather studios in Brooklyn to record with Ben Greenberg (Uniform, The Men) who helmed 2019's debut, Human Traffic Jam. The results are notably ripping, refined, and riveting. Riffs in alternate tunings chug and churn over mid-tempo drums punctuated by spikes of sci-fi electronics while the vocals swagger and spit venom ("where we walk is also where we shit / but if we bark at our reflections are we hypocrites? / impulses bleed right into our seed / where hate culminates the apple rotted on the tree"). It's a bristling mix of the melodic and the macabre, absurdist observations of fast living and desperate measures, the clock of youth ticking towards midnight as dreams unravel in Babylon. VR SEX's specialty is making these cautionary tales of psychic decay and tainted love a thrill rather than a drag. There's a sunglasses at night glamor to Clinco's choruses and solos, a wit to his black leather judgements ("what is the answer / to cancerous people / walking in my line of sight?"). The music's milieu tends towards parasites and predators but its mood skews refreshingly accelerated and amused, cruising the strip with a cigarette, watching goths and limousines crawl in gridlock beneath digital billboards. The Rough Dimension may be a cesspool, but it's home.

Get ready for a musical journey like no other as Apollo Junction, the dynamic and innovative indie rock sensation, prepares to launch their eagerly awaited new album, ’What In The World’ on August 22nd. The members of Apollo Junction hail from Leeds, UK. Known for their electrifying live performances and genre-blurring sound, the band has captured the hearts of music enthusiasts worldwide.

With a strong and dedicated fan base, Apollo Junction continues to push the boundaries of their craft, creating music that resonates on a profound level. Apollo Junction’s new album ‘What in the World’ has been years in the making - born from highs, lows, countless gigs, and all the chaos in between. It’s the most honest version of the band yet, a record shaped by every late-night argument, every breakthrough, every crazy story they have ever told each other.

Recorded at Chairworks Studio with David Watts (The Reytons, OMD, Paul Heaton, and Kaiser Chiefs) the album also features tracks co-written with Eliot Kennedy (known for his work with Bryan Adams and the Spice Girls) and includes a track with a powerful guest vocal from Brianna Corrigan of The Beautiful South. Lead singer Jamie Williamson explains the importance of the album: “This album feels exactly right for where we are now. Every track is a snapshot—of getting lost, finding our way back, and remembering why we started. It’s about making something that feels like home. We went looking for meaning and realised it was right in front of us: the band, the songs, this record. ‘What in the World’ isn’t just a title—it’s the answer we’ve been chasing all along.” Leeds-based quintet Apollo Junction is made up of Jamie Williamson (singer) Matthew Wilson (guitarist), Ben Hope (bassist), Jonny Thornton (drummer) and Sam Potter (keyboards). Their shared love of live music and dedication to performing, coupled with an incredible hard-work ethic has taken them on this magical journey which has included support slots for Shed Seven, Kaiser Chiefs, Richard Ashcroft and performing at festivals including the prestigious Isle of Wight Festival. Coming up this summer, the lads will be playing with Blossoms, Manic Street Preachers and Doves

Alanis Morissette Delivers the Equivalent of a Spiritual Awakening on Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie:
Introspective Themes and Compassionate Emotions on Eastern-Tinged Album Have Grown More Relevant
1998 Smash Plays with Enhanced Detail, Rich Textures, and Sharp Focus on Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM 2LP Set:
First-Ever Audiophile Edition Strictly Limited to 3,000 Numbered Copies
1/2" / 30 IPS analogue master to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe

Alanis Morissette refuses to adhere to convention on Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie. While most artists follow-up their breakthrough with an album that closely parallels the approaches that helped make them famous, the maverick singer-songwriter stayed true to herself and drew inspiration from travel to India before she began the recording sessions. As much as the preceding Jagged Little Pill put her on the global radar, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie confirmed her role as a vital generational voice — and proved her blockbuster success was no fluke. Having set a mark for most sales of an LP in its debut week by a female artist, the 1998 smash remains a pop-rock staple.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, housed in a Stoughton jacket, and pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM 2LP set of Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie presents the triple-platinum LP in audiophile sound for the first time. Benefitting from defined grooves that befit the album’s nearly 72-minute length, this pressing plays with enhanced detail, refined clarity, sharper focus, and broader dynamics than prior versions.

Those traits are key given Morissette’s use of more textured and atmospheric soundscapes, not to mention her evolution into a more nuanced and controlled singer. Similarly, the scale and reach of David Campbell’s string arrangements come across as orchestrations should. Ditto the synth-based architecture shaped by producer and principal Morissette collaborator Glen Ballard. All in all, Mobile Fidelity’s collectible edition simply delivers more information via transparent means.

Notable for its balance, sophistication, and richness, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie at heart finds Morissette pausing, taking a breath, and learning how to navigate life in a healthy manner after enduring one of the most exhausting and rocket-to-fame stretches any musician ever experienced. It’s the sonic equivalent of a spiritual awakening, a call to betterment, a brave assessment of the self and humanity as a whole. As such, the tunes on her second international (and fourth Canadian) release teem with gratitude, compassion, love, empathy — emotions that lend themselves to the largely mellow, contoured scope and Eastern-tinged melodies of the songs themselves.

“How ‘bout how good it feels to finally forgive you,” Morissette sings on the lead single “Thank U.” “How ‘bout grieving it all one at a time.” Those sentiments, and the vocalist’s embrace of concepts such as divinity and acceptance, not only provide a foundation on which Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie rests. They also reflect the personal maturation she gained from her embrace of Buddhist culture in India and a mindset bent toward notions of reconciliation, peace, and sensuality that were nearly absent in popular music in the late ‘90s.

Those themes continue on “That I Would Be Good,” a confident reflection that takes stock of one’s mental, physical, and emotional state in the face of both changing and unpleasant circumstances — and concludes with Morissette performing a flute solo, further exposing the raw intimacy of the introspective tune. She channels relatable simplicity and joy on “So Pure,” with her invocations of “dance” and “freestyle” speaking to the freedom of expression that courses throughout Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie. And perhaps no song finds Morissette showcasing her refreshed attitude toward life and opening up more than the relationship-themed “Unsent,” whose unconventional structures and lack of a chorus only add to its directness.

Akin to many albums that were ahead of their time, and despite the critical and commercial accolades afforded it upon release, Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie attracted new appreciation and perspective as it got older. Issued during an era where its ideas of serenity, absolution, tranquility, and contentment seemed largely alien, the record — akin to the ways its predecessor foreshadowed a movement — now functions as a visionary beacon that foretells of way to maintain sanity, dignity, and goodness amid a contemporary landscape filled with constant distractions, polarizing views, and incessant calls to purchase, promote, and produce without questioning the what-for purpose.

Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie dares to ask the questions and, at its best, supplies meaningful answers and alternatives that lead to longed-for enlightenment, healing, and laughter. For these reasons alone, it’s a record that never goes out of style.

A true embodiment of Brazilian Boogie, this is the first official reissue of Brylho's album, founded in Rio de Janeiro in 1978 as Brylho da Cidade. The group was influenced by the Black Rio movement of Tim Maia, Cassiano, and others. Members included Arnaldo Brandão (vocals/bass), Paulo Roquette (guitar), Cláudio Zoli (guitar/vocals), Robério Rafael (drums), Bolão (percussion), and Ricardo Cristaldi (keyboard). Claudio Zoli stands out as an important funk artist of the 1980s, during a time when Pop Rock bands dominated the Brazilian music scene. This album features one of the biggest hits of 1983: the soulful reggae groove "Noite do Prazer." Often described as Rio de Janeiro's answer to George Benson's "Give Me the Night," it's a timeless classic that bridges funk, soul, and Brazilian grooves. On "Se Você For a Salvador," a sun-soaked, feel-good boogie track, younger generations have embraced a new term to describe the sound: Brazilian City Pop. The record also delivers dancefloor heat like the stomping "Jóia Rara," the vibrant soul-reggae fusion "Destrava Maria," the ahead-of-its- time rap-funk hybrid "Cheque Sem Fundo," and the electrifying samba-reggae "Pé de Guerra," rich with Bahian rhythms and energy. Closing out the album are two under-the-radar jazz-funk gems: "Meditando" and "171." Though often lumped into the boogie category, these tracks lean more toward the sleek 1980s jazz-funk sound, reminiscent of UK acts like Level 42.

New Traditions is a collection of pipe music, electronic music, mouth music and folk music from five emerging and prominent Scottish artists.

It started in Sutherland with a recording of The Waters of Kylesku. “Do you learn any Gaelic at the school?” asks Hamish Henderson of Christine Stewart. “No,” she answers. “That’s a shame,” he responds, “Isn’t it?” she says. Then she sings. Her voice is of the peat itself, grown from the earth as the language was. It soars raptor-like above drenched ground and scoured pink rock.

Next, to Nancy Dorian, a linguistic missionary of sorts, who came from America to watch a language die. She charted the decline of Gaelic in a cluster of Sutherland villages from 1963 to 2020 when the terminal native speaker passed. Gaelic has origins in nature, with each letter of the alphabet named after a tree. It seems significant that the land of the north is now all-but devoid of forest.

Enter Alan Lomax, who travelled the world documenting indigenous music. Material from his archives feature on (fucking) Moby’s platinum selling Play. Despite the record’s worldwide commercial success we know very little of the music he essentially exploited.

Then musician Martyn Bennett, who built tracks around Lomax recordings of Scots and Gaelic voices, and did so with love that shared his blood with the cancer that killed him. His records both popularised and preserved obscure indigenous Scottish music.

This collection of tunes has similar intent: to consolidate ephemeral words in physical grooves - real as the rigs that still scar the earth - but also a desire to interpret. These versions have the greatest reverence for the originals at heart, but like the architecture of a great gallery, serve to protect and elevate.

The first in a proposed series of transmissions, Surface Detail's mystifying debut introduces an incorporeal body that exists only through sound and sensation, prompting listeners to discern a spiritual realm beyond the physical. Its surging electro-acoustic compositions push past the material world to plunge into deeper sonic dimensions, slowly revealing a philosophy borne of near-death and out-of-body experiences that challenges perception itself.

Overhauling vintage experimental techniques with their bespoke modern methodologies and processes, Surface Detail rearrange the musical timeline, merging vastly different concepts to hint at questions rather than provide solid answers. Their uniquely immersive soundscapes use texture, rhythm and tonality to help brush away the superficial and contemplate the unknown, approaching its delicate, controversial subject matter with sensitivity and sensuality. Not just an auditory experience, 'Surface Detail' tests the potential of sound itself, eliciting visceral physical reactions with its uncanny subtleties.

Those principles are divulged immediately on opening track 'Marée Noire', as breathy saxophone notes loops and swirl over cosmic oscillations and microtonally tuned drones. It's music that cracks open a passage that snakes through various genres, suggesting silhouettes rather than affirming banal musical preconceptions. Skeletal rhythms appear in the ether for only a moment, disappearing into the sonic landscape, and Surface Detail's bespoke instrumentation materializes just to bring out the cellular intricacy of the music, concentrating the gaze on microscopic textures and irregularities that discompose the senses. As the album drifts forward, it bends material reality even further: on 'Southern Breach', warm, lower-register organ tones intermingle with sinewy guitar twangs, evaporating into warped, hypnotic oscillations and eerie echoes; and by 'Superbook of the Dead', the conspicuous details have almost disappeared completely, replaced by subterranean clangs, industrial ambience and other-worldly electrical interference.

It's in this way that Surface Detail softly assert their convictions, insinuating a narrative that subliminally ushers listeners down an hypnagogic River Styx by removing all traces of the familiar. On closing track 'Broken Silicates', distant lullabies, dissociated stutters and ghostly woodwind sounds blot fractal patterns on the wide open space, reincarnating the album in a liminal zone that's not constrained by somatic logic. Whisper quiet and utterly beguiling, it transcends material existence, dissolving barriers between surface and depth.

Originally released on Ben Chasny's own Pavilion imprint in 2011.

"I was invited by the Incubate Festival and the city of Tilburg to participate in an artist residency where I would explore the region’s unique chapels built for the Virgin Mary. After writing the music for about six months by drawing on memories of the encounters with the chapels and using techniques inspired by Gaston Bachelard’s Poetics Of Reverie, I flew back to Tilburg to perform the music at the Incubate Festival. We recorded the evening and I released the result on my Pavilion label. Each cover was hand painted white on white in the old Pavilion style. I created a stencil and used graphite powder to make the design that is inspired by the sun imagery in Athanasius Kircher diagrams."

Roadside chapels express the identity of the inhabitants of North Brabant, a Dutch province, bordering on Belgium. Roman Catholicism has been the dominant religion in this southern part of the Netherlands since the eighth century. For about a century and a half this religion was strongly suppressed. Only when the French revolutionaries preached freedom of belief around 1800 could the people of North Brabant exercise their faith again. This was the start of a very strong emancipatory development from which a special form of the Roman Catholic faith arose that fully determined everyday life of the people here. This faith was the determining factor in life and the measure of all things. After the second Vatican Council (1962-1965) the reins of the catholic faith in Brabant were loosened as well. This was the start of a revolutionary process of secularisation. Within a decade hardly anything was left of the almighty influence of the Roman Catholic Church and this situation has lasted up to the present day.

In spite of the almightiness of the official, Vatican ruled, Roman Catholic faith, North Brabant has always and perhaps notoriously fostered an undercurrent of popular belief as well. This is a kind of belief in which elements of the official faith and age-old pre-Christian traditions are combined. Worshipping relics, holding pilgrimages and processions, the use of water from holy wells, popular art, recitations and songs, festivals, rituals, folk traditions, superstition and the like are all examples of popular devotion. These matters have strongly influenced and formed the identity of the present-day population of North Brabant. It is part of their immaterial heritage.

An obvious and still very much visible form of popular devotion are the roadside chapels. In Brabant some 400 can be found, most of which have been devoted to Mary. Chapels are small buildings in which Mary or other saints are worshipped. They can be found within villages or towns or in natural surroundings. Always at the finest spots! The beauty of the environment adds a primary religious or mystical feeling to the visitor. Local people attach great value to their chapels. In spite of the overall secularisation in society they are still at the centre of cultural and social life. Where people in North Brabant can hardly be found in the churches nowadays, this doesn’t mean at all they are no longer religious. On the contrary, religious feelings are perhaps stronger than ever, but now people have to find their own expression of them. That’s why they fall back on the age-old popular belief in which chapels play an important role. We can even witness new forms of popular belief with chapels as their focal point. An example of this is the scattering of ashes of people who have been cremated. Chapels clearly also play a role in the lives of young people. On an average five new chapels are added every year.

I have studied the popular culture and belief and the identity of the inhabitants of North Brabant for over thirty years. I have published over forty books on these subjects. In 2010 I was approached by the organisation of the Incubate Festival in the North Brabant town of Tilburg. Their request was for me to lead the American composer and guitarist Ben Chasny around a number of chapels in the province devoted to Mary. He had been invited to North Brabant to write some new compositions. Ben Chasny then chose to be inspired by these chapels and that’s how we met. I was especially curious how an American would react to something as specific and small as a roadside chapel in North Brabant, since we tend to think here of (people in) America in terms of ‘big-bigger-biggest’. Would an inhabitant of this enormous country with this prevailing culture be able to grasp and respect the identity of some 2.5 million people in North Brabant with their chapels? The answer to this question lies hidden in the compositions he made and that can be listened to on this album. Yes, Ben Chasny has been able to convert the phenomenon of a simple chapel devoted to Mary into music. The physical and the spiritual have found each other. What a beautiful world…just listen! - Paul Spapens

Following his previous appearance on Kevin Saunderson’s KMS Records 11 years ago, Tomio Ueda returns with "nonbot EP" and the debut of his own vinyl imprint, bounce connection records.

Each of the four tracks question the boundary between human error and machine precision blending hypnotic basslines, pads reminiscent of 90's Detroit techno, hardgroove-style percussion, and plenty of mind-bending surprises.

Early support from Dax J, Richie Hawtin, Kangding Ray, A Thousand Details, Answer Code Request, Slam, Takaaki Itoh, Perc, Online Narcotics, and HAMY

Hand-stamped black vinyl in white jacket and polyline

Limited pressing of 100 available

The Vendetta Suite is back to light up the early part of 2025 with a brilliant brace of singles on Hell Yeah. Kicking things off is a glorious acid house/disco thriller backed by a soothing out of body escape.

We’ve often referred to The Vendetta Suite as Belfast’s best kept secret, but with the quality music he keeps releasing he is rightly picking up ever more of a profile. The Hell Yeah regular has long been a key part of his native Northern Irish scene thanks to the way he mixes genres; ambient, post-rave Balearic, dub and acid house all in the mix with his own unique psychedelic magic.

First up is ‘The Jam Answer’, which taps into plenty of classic sounds but reinvents them for modern dancefloors. Bendy acid lines weave in between the dusty analogue drums, familiar acid house vocal samples and fizzing chord stabs bring the heat before a cosmic synth lead sings out with sunny soul. ‘Island Hill Microdot’ channels dreamy Chicago house, the futuristic styles of IDM with the blissed out warmth of Balearic. Carried along with gentle percussion, it’s an immersive soundscape that makes for the perfect tropical distraction.

Two very different but equally effective cuts from The Vendetta Suite.

In 2016 an internet user discovered Panchiko’s discarded 2000 demo CD, D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L, in a Nottingham charity shop and posted it to 4chan to intrigue and fanfare. It took four years for Panchiko’s legions of dedicated fans to find the people behind the music as millions of curious listeners were swaying to the band’s adolescent creations. Upon discovering their own virality, the band reformed with original members Andy Wright (keyboardist and producer), Owain Davies (vocalist and guitarist), and Shaun Ferreday (bassist) alongside new members Robert Harris (guitarist) and John Schofield (drummer), toured the world and wrote, recorded, and released their first album in 20+ years, 2023’s Failed At Maths. But after the thrill of the whirlwind came a new question. What comes next when your dreams come true? The answer is Ginkgo, a 13-track project that finds the band making some of their most introspective, cinematic, and moving music yet. “The whole production has gone up ten-fold,” says Wright of the new album.“ Standout track "Shandy in the Graveyard" feat. rapper billy woods sees the band channeling their youth and tapping into the typical audience at Panchiko shows. That youthful spirit can be felt in the song’s sonic world, as its production genre-shifts between trip hop and orchestral folk, creating a fresh juxtaposition of soundscapes. The same wrenching honesty that attracted legions of fans to their teenage demos is the same truthful ethos that keeps them listening to new material like title track, “Ginkgo.” On it, Davies sings “You command the leaves to fall/The Ginkgo bends at will.” A rumination on the limits of control, collaboration, and fate, the song is an apt meditation for a band whose resurgence came about through a mix of luck, artistry, and then clear-eyed energy.

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

Dub House n Techno at its best. VUO Records!

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.