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Moondata’s little-known sole single, 1984’s decidedly Balearic, jazz-funk/boogie fusion gem ‘Let The Moonshine In’, is a very important record to the Rotation Sound System crew. It has become a familiar favourite at their annual Rotation Garden Party micro-festival and formed the centrepiece of their first compilation, summer 2025’s superb Everything You’re About To Hear Is True Volume 1. It’s increasingly rare these days for an artist from the 80s to still have their master tapes but even rarer still for them to have the multitrack tapes too. This is something of the holy grail when it comes to licensing old music so when it happens the opportunity to remix and create new versions needs to be grabbed with both hands.

The original record, a genuine rarity beloved of synth-loving crate-diggers, had an unusual gestation. Originally recorded in demo form by musician Jean-Marie Gogniat, it was turned into a finished single by a group of German musicians with a little help from lyricist and vocalist Joe Mwenda, and a crew of backing vocalists whose number included a locally based American singer – a pre-fame Jennifer Rush. Fittingly, the pre-vocal instrumental mix, which has sat unreleased since 1984, is included as a bonus track on the digital edition of this new remix package. The Rotation Sound System crew’s mixes, headed up by long-serving producer Dean Meredith, sprinkle 21st century magic across Gogniat’s one-off masterpiece while retaining core elements of the original and offering nods aplenty to club-focused sounds of the 1980s. They are, in effect, the versions the track deserved – but never got – back in the mid 1980s.

To begin, Meredith reunites with long-time production partner Andrew Meecham for the pair’s first remix as Chicken Lips in three years – a typically sparse and spaced-out ‘Malfunction Dub’ with delay-laden synths, vocals and guitar snippets sit over a sparse post-electro beat and bass guitar. Meredith then joins forces with fellow Rotation Sound System member Ben Shenton for takes under their two bestknown aliases. First, they don the T-Kutt guise for some dubbed out, funky bass guitar-propelled boogie-meets-proto house action that rocks out a killer, Clavinet-expanded groove while spinning in talkbox and backing vocals.

The pair then re-emerge as Mind Fair, famed for their releases on Golf Channel Recordings and their own Rogue Cat Sounds, and deliver a warmer, deeper and more organic-sounding take that’s as languid and tactile as it is warm and saucereyed. To round off the vinyl version of the EP, Rotation Sound System’s other core members – Rob J, Rich Hall and Stuart Robinson – don the now-familiar Wrekin Havoc guise and re-invent the track as a raw, analogue-rich shuffle through 1980s electro – all squelchy synth-bass, stabbing, cut-up vocal samples, chiming synth melodies and echoing beats. The expanded digital download edition of the EP contains a trio of additional bonus rubs. Alongside instrumental versions of the T-Kutt and Mind Fair mixes, we also get a full vocal T-Kutt rework that adds back in Joe Mwenda’s beautifully delivered verses. These additional DJ tools round off a beautifully rendered set of re-imaginations of a genuine cult classic. Gogniat, the man who started it all way back in the summer of 1984, certainly approves.

After a sold out first release, NY’s Superflux is back for Round Two with a debut release from arguably the most unsung hero of the Midwest underground. Uplink is a REDACTED-based hardware specialist known for their work running a series of labels and organizing parties that have helped define the region’s sound for more than a decade. Crafted using time-honored tools of the trade, these four dubby, tracky, and raw cuts – lifted from live stereo board recordings – will sit comfortably alongside releases from STL, Skudge, and MRSK.

The A1, Audio Sport, is a dubby groover with almost-steppy hats and bit of bite; a reverb-drenched lattice of delayed pads bends your sense of time and space until you realize you’re 12 hours into the warehouse function and someone’s just thrown a piano off the roof. A2, Blue Untitled, is a deep stomper reminiscent of the early WAX records. A big & shifty bassline turns this into a true head-nodder. B1, Temporary Machine 1, is a more subdued dubbed-out tech house cut anchored on a rolling bassline and flanked by dusty percussion and prescriptive stabs. Proper warm up tackle or hazy after-afters fodder: the choice is yours. Connoisseurs of a fine B2 rejoice – this one is it. Dokta is a moody, tripped out late night techno affair with a dash of bounce for good measure. All that hisses is gold.

Written by Colin Boardway

Beneath the still gaze of the praying mantis, Jamie, aka j:me, arrives on Neptune Discs via Jupiter’s Depth with four tracks shaped by subtle mutations, hallucinatory repetition and dubmerged weight throughout.

Built around commanding basslines, intricate percussion and spacious progressive movement, the EP quietly unfolds like something half-hidden beneath the surface.

Already seeing support from Raresh, tINI, Francesco Del Garda, Enzo Siragusa, Omar+ and more. Heady groove in full effect.

Some grooves don’t rush to the dancefloor — they crawl there, slow and heavy, like smoke wrapping around a bassline. With Fragments of Reality, The Balek Band sculpt an electronic funk that lives between shadow and light — an end-of-the-world fever dream, a Barjavel-style Ravage where chaos turns nihilistic.

No sequencer grid here — just four musicians sharing the same room, shaping air and tension together: drums locked tight with a slap bass, a guitar dripping with echo and heat, and a one-man orchestra behind his machines, weaving acid lines and synth arpeggios while mixing the band live — drenching it in delay, reverb, and saturation, like a dub producer in a Kingston studio, Lee Scratch Perry or King Tubby conjuring ghosts through smoke.

This isn’t fusion — it’s friction. A living ritual where the TB-303 hums, and machines don’t dominate but converse with the human pulse. Each track feels like a night that refuses to end — that humid in-between where trance slips into languor, and the body starts to think for itself.

The record recalls the cosmic jazz of Alain Mion or Eddy Louiss meeting the fiery energy of West African afrobeat musicians freshly arrived in a smoky Belleville basement in the mid-’80s. When The Balek Band summon ghosts, it’s only to reshape them — bending the past into something futuristic, alive, and strangely refreshing. Both disciplined and delirious, Fragments of Reality feels like a promise at dawn: dark funk for the late hours, slow acid for warm blood.

This EP isn’t nostalgic, though it remembers. It’s a transmission from a parallel past — a moment when jazz players met drum machines and decided never to stop playing. Each note sweats, each rhythm breathes. You can almost see the light cutting through the haze, faces half-awake, half-possessed.

The Balek Band aren’t recreating a moment — they’re keeping it alive.
Flesh and cables. Impulse and patience.
A band, not a loop.
A trip, not a format.

Spectral Bounce’s latest offering comes direct from Norway, courtesy of Anders Hajem — co-founder of Boring Crew Records. To date, the Oslo producer’s previous releases have been vessels for the exploration of myriad dance musics, seeing the artist fluently turn his hand to soulful house, dub techno and 2-step.

SPEC07 — the Myr EP — is a much more focused affair, finding Hajem in techno mode across 4 potent cuts typified by undulating drums and swelling echoes. Despite its emphasis on percussion, atmosphere has not been sacrificed for rhythm: vivid FX and meticulous attention to detail bring these tracks to life beyond the context of the dancefloor. This is music that can be stepped into and explored, productions that reward repeat listens.

Opening at full throttle, “Myr” is a jackin’ percussive workout, harnessing punchy drums for maximum effect. Its pulsating low-end runs in tandem with trembling synths that perpetually reflect and refract in the stereo field. Atop its rolling drums, hardgroove-inflected “Sprett” utilizes timestretched vocals, cavernous reverb and ecstatically quivering tones, elevating this 2000s-era framework to new heights. “Existence” brings things to a deeper and more hypnotic place: delays are turned up, siren calls reverberate and timbres ebb and flow. Hajem goes more chasmic still on “Concussion”, hitting the brakes for a much slower cadence and allowing space for a truly expansive listening experience. Heady and mystical, entrancing and otherworldly — listen close enough; beneath the dizzyingly shifting pulses and rattling drums you’ll hear incantations, while bass tones pulse in the depths.

SPEC07 — immerse yourself!

Credits:
Art by Susanne Janssen
Mastering & Cut by Marco Pellegrino @Analogcut
Words by Cameron Leaf

Miles Borghese’s Direct Styles, up next on Jupiter’s Depth, explores a meditative dub techno palette that sits somewhere between dub, tech-house, and minimalist club music. Following a run of standout releases on 9FINITY and Squid Recordings, among others, we’re thrilled to welcome that alien modern club sound to the label.

The floor-focused Direct Styles opens with the title track, driven by a hyperactive bassline and layered with delay-drenched synth chords, galloping through time with restless momentum. On A2, a more tempestuous techno side of Miles Borghese reveals itself on “Dark Plan,” charging the release with a mind-bending looped groove, pulling everything on earth into a hypnotic, blitzed state.

“Climber” — a storm of immaculately constructed, phase-shifting textures that drags us deep into the B-side; a real dub-techno delight made for outer space. Closing the EP, Miles joins forces with Pipo Renault on the lush “Parapluie”: warm and groove-focused, a captivating, house-leaning masterclass built to keep you moving.

A Bandcamp-only digital bonus, Substance, awaits those willing to dig a little deeper.

Astropolis Records, the label born from the legendary Brest festival, marks a decade of electronic passion with a sprawling, heartfelt anniversary compilation — slightly delayed, but still delivered with flair.
It comes in two EPs, spotlighting the many facets of the Astropolis universe: in-house artists, long-time festival collaborators, and rising stars from France’s ever-bubbling scene. Eighteen artists guide us through a sonic journey where rave heritage, electronic dreamscapes, and collective fervor converge — true to a festival whose DNA has never recognized borders.


The second EP dives into darker territories, spanning original electro, multifaceted techno, and sunlit vibes toward the close.
Astropolis has always thrived on happy collisions, and this EP is a perfect demonstration.


For synth lovers, Legowelt & Cuften revive the spirit of early electroclash on Liar, a carnal fusion of analog synths and DIY attitude.
Zaatar & Trunkline inject raw energy on Come Into The Light, a sweaty, visceral banger bridging techno, dark disco, and EBM.
French scene stalwarts Scan X & Electric Rescue deliver a masterclass in elegant techno on Lost In Time.


When Manu Le Malin meets Kmyle, the result is as sharp as it is cinematic: Little Big Man builds dramatic tension, balancing raw emotion with contained fury.


On a more contemplative note, we’re thrilled to unveil one of the first productions from our dear Célélé with Théo Muller: the subtle Drum and Drift, threaded with dubby vibrations and sun-drenched bursts.
This anniversary compilation reaffirms the label’s openness to new generations and recent sonic hybrids while honoring the techno scene that shaped its beginnings. Like the festival itself, it embodies the same sincerity and collective energy: a small manifesto connecting generations, aesthetics, and territories — celebrating roots without nostalgia, and the future without bending to trends.

A Walking Contradiction resurfaces with a new release by their friend & collaborator Katatonic Silentio, channeling a collection of tracks submerged in echoes and pressure-shaped pulses. AWC011 traces fluid architectures built from delay, decay, and deep resonance--each composition unfolding like sediment in motion. Sounds sway with tidal pull, suspended in chambers where space thickens and time refracts. Basslines emerge like sonar beneath shifting layers, while percussive elements flicker at the edges, softened by current and drag. Elastic and disorientated, these underwater constructions are tuned to the language of depth and dissolution.

»Reise der Schatten« (»Journey of Shadows«) is the soundtrack to the eponymous debut feature-length animation film by Swiss artist Yves Netzhammer. Composed by Anthony Pateras and released as a stand- alone album through Hallow Ground, the 29 pieces are based on »weird folk melodies ornamented with electro-acoustics to give the film a more fantastical, fairy-tale feeling,« as the composer puts it. His extensive international recording sessions with a slew of guest musicians results in a record imbued with a sense of mystical surrealism, otherworldly and haunting.

»Reise der Schatten« tells the abstracted story of a genderless being coming to terms with its identity and place in a world full of conflicts and systems of control. »The film was made with old animation software that only works on Mac OS 9. So already, we are in a very hermetic, unique space,« says Pateras. Having tried (and failed) to compose something »typically experimental,« he went for long walks in the Australian bushlands and came home with something else: the idea to create a soundtrack that would create »a kind of distance, or perceptual shift, but also a narrative drive and emotional context which is not always clear.«

While recording the album, the tētēma co-founder did not use digitally generated sound, instead workingwith live instrumentation whose sound palette was enriched by the use of feedback, tape delay, analogue synthesizers, and samples from vinyl records. Wanting to work primarily with acoustic instruments suchas the clarinet made Pateras embark on a complicated journey of his own. The initial recording sessions took place in Basel on metallophones that were designed by Domenico Melchiorre’s Lunason company and laid the foundation for everything that came after.

Pateras recorded with musicians such as guitarist Alexander Garsden, viola player Erkki Veltheim, clarinetist Aviva Endean, multi-instrumentalist Justin Marshall and Lizzy Welsh on the viola d’amore among other instruments. He recorded percussion and recorders with Rohan Rebeiro and Natasha Anderson in his hometown of Castlemaine, double bass with Benjamin Ward in Sydney, bass and flutes with Jon Heilbron and Rebecca Lane in Berlin, and electronics in Zürich with Netzhammer. »Reise der Schatten« was thus a literal journey, made with a »big, international electro-acoustic ensemble.«

As a stand-alone album, »Reise der Schatten« opens up a space of its own. Its stylistic diversity makes it atmospherically and emotionally multi-faceted. As its composer notes, »music for screen can be very virtuosic, sophisticated, and variegated!« His own work is a testament to that claim.

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Saint Seiya returns with a 7th vinyl, once again featuring the legendary composer of the series: Seiji Yokoyama



Synopsis: The god of the seas, Poseidon, threatens to submerge the Earth beneath the waves. To counter this threat, Saori Kido, the reincarnation of Athena, travels to Poseidon's underwater sanctuary, where she is imprisoned within the central pillar, absorbing the waters to delay the flood. The Bronze Saints, led by Seiya, dive into the undersea realm to rescue Athena. They must face Poseidon's Generals, each guarding a pillar that supports the oceans. Through intense battles, they uncover that Kanon, the twin brother of Gemini Saga, is secretly manipulating Poseidon from the shadows.

This vinyl adapts the third arc of the series, the Poseidon Arc.


Seiji Yokoyama continues to captivate us with the sound of the mandolin, while the Mediterranean accents of this OST give it a distinctive and highly recognizable character that perfectly matches the third season of Saint Seiya.

AN ATLAS OF LOSS

Do minerals dream of becoming semiconductors? Do they yearn to carry charges, amplify, switch, and convert energy into emotions comprehensible to humans? And what if, from the darkness of the underground, they had been listening to us sing in caves before the emergence of the first flute? Could they have guided us, through the course of history, to find them, extract them, and create new sounds through sinusoidal waves, to form valves and bend circuits?

If so, minerals would transition from what philosopher Eugene Thacker defines as the ‘planet’—that virginal and unreachable realm for humans that we study through geology, paleontology, and environmental sciences—to the ‘world,’ the space we inhabit, interpret, and synthesise in our daily lives. Sadly, we only remember the world when it erupts violently, through climate catastrophes or when a new virus emerges. Sometimes a tsunami collides with a nuclear plant, or viruses are cultivated as biological weapons in high-security laboratories, provoking a deep biological anxiety, hard to quell, which we all feel beneath our skin.

There exists a third realm, disconnected from both the world and the planet: the ‘earth’, an immense, dense rock floating in space alongside other planets, situated in the cosmological dimension. Relating to the earth is so complex that we only do so through theoretical speculations of a scientific nature or through science fiction, interweaving until one becomes the prophecy of the other, in an infinite, pendular dance. Beyond the darkness of space and Lovecraft’s cosmic horror, the fantasy of human extinction is the most recurrent: to reach a collapse so devastating that we do not survive it, even though the earth does, without us.

In a world where we quantify everything through body sensors, financial algorithms, nanometre-scale robots, and surveillance drones—a world in which everything that can be domesticated and controlled can also be commodified—a superior artificial intelligence would survive the collapse of the species (some speculate it might even cause it) and learn from our mistakes, thanks to our obsessive gathering of data.

Long after our voices fade, minerals will persist in the darkness of screens, in the silicon of chips, and in their pure form, still unexploited underground. Over the millennia, this intelligence might piece together fragments of our reasoning, as if an alien civilization finally connected with one of our spacecrafts loaded with messages cast into the void. It would sort through endless streams of data, unable to grasp the depths of emotion behind what it quantified, recreating simulations of our past, stripped of the nuance that once defined us and conducting experiments in sandboxes.

Some remnants of our existence—faint echoes of forgotten beauty—would be pieced together in an atlas of loss, buried beneath layers of numbers, decayed bots, and corroded hard drives. What will follow? Perhaps bison will once again roam—trotting to the strange pulse of techno, their ancient forms framed by the ruins of our cities.

Buildings will crumble, slowly dissolving under the soft touch of ambient music, and a thousand flowers will bloom with that ancient music created through electrical signals and computation. 7 songs for a future both improbable and inevitable—a final message from a world lost to itself, from planet Earth to planet Earth.

Alfons Pich, 2025

Playful Italo-Disco project by Florentine Marzio Benelli, originally released in 1984. "Life Is Now" delivers a number of what seem to be almost very important life-teachings over a rather sloppy beat. The hi hats, although very present also make it clear "Spanish Crash" is in no rush to get anywhere any time soon, sounding almost off beat. What strikes the listener even more than the smudges of highly valuable advice in some form of English language is the creative usage of what might have been some of the latest studio recording toys to reach Italy in 1984, an array of rather unorthodox synthy effects, vocoders, trippy delays all topped off with imposing guitar riffs for good measure. Very much sounding like what could be the soundtrack to a bootleg Disney comic strip on acid. Castro's "Paella Crash" shifts the original lazy gear into a dubbier, high BPM, striped down version of the original that is more club oriented.

Open Space is proud to present our first ever full-length LP by LA’s newest 3-man band, Puli. Some words from our dear friend Matt McDermott below:

In recent years, a cadre of musicians from the east side of Los Angeles have reestablished the city of angels as the first city of Balearica. Alex Ho’s “Move Through It” followed in the lumbering footsteps of Project Sandro’s “Blazer.” Now, there’s a new landmark for the floating west coast sound. Swirling, the first album from LA supergroup Puli.

If you’ve got your ear to the ground you know the names involved here. Drummer and producer Damon Palermo’s pedigree stretches back a good 15 years or so, starting off with dub punks Mi Ami. Phil Cho is one of the busiest DJs, musicians and advocates for the deep stuff in LA, throwing legendary hillside parties under the Third Place banner. John Jones, the preternaturally talented guitarist and electronic tinkerer, records as AV Moves, is a key member of the Suzanne Kraft and Baba Stiltz live configurations and plays in The Trilogy Tapes-affiliated act Geo Rip.

But this listing of personnel and credentials puts too fine a point on it. Puli are three close friends who go to parties, DJ and get tacos together, repairing to their Chinatown studio a few times a week and coming out with remarkably textured, idiosyncratic downtempo jams. Building off the solid foundation of their 7-inch of heavyweight dubs for Melbourne’s Constant Delay, Swirling is an exploration of new horizons in chill out.

“Ramona” acts a statement of purpose—with halftime/double-time dub-tinged rhythms, hazy yet bright synth motifs and atmospheric guitar from Jones, not terribly far from the expansive approach of Japanese dub aesthetes Pecker. “Cloudy,” meanwhile, is a sort of deconstructed and bittersweet Balearic pop featuring Cho’s ethereal vocals. “Bongo Springs” is steppers’ house not far from close LA peer Benedek or the Mood Hut crew up north.

But what truly sets this record apart is the space and layers in the production—while it’s nominally an electronic record, Puli is a band that has slowly crafted these songs in the rehearsal space. “Havana Jam” cruises along a sliding roundwound bass guitar take with dubby chords and textural guitars. Palermo’s hand drums and live percussion enmesh perfectly with icy pads on “Leech Seed Dub.” Cho is back on the mic for the gorgeous closer, “C.S.B.”, underpinned by breakbeat and trunk-rattling sub bass. Puli doesn’t sound like anyone else, and is ultimately reflective of the city itself. Listening to Swirling feels like navigating a warren of side streets in the eternal sunshine. Take the drive and dive.

Donald’s house and DJ Chrysalis give the UK’s Not An Animal Records the intercontinental treatment with a four track transpacific delivery of psyche-laden progressive house music melded with the sleazy stylistics we have come to expect and love from NAA releases, the outcome is a cohesive late-night package who’s sound is exceptionally current whilst somehow remaining thoughtfully reminiscent.

Title track Pound Bend leads in with a breakbeat whilst the scene is set by layers of proggy synth patterns before descending into a powerfully dark, driving bassline.

Apiento’s remix of the title track takes a more introspective approach, stripping the package back to a reprogrammed bass groove, infectiously enlivened by an earworm synth loop that is likely to stay with you for eternity.

A Curious Warmth delivers a bassline that ploughs through a soundscape of delicately programmed drum patterns layered with pads and new-age trance synths. A scattering of housey breaks and pads reinvigorate the track in the latter half.

Tingler Ring brings things down to a slower burn as the bassline is left to drive the track, accented by a haunting of delay laden stabs whilst acid synths sit at the forefront to take the EP to its close.

After dropping several tracks and performing at select festivals throughout the years, Ólafur Arnalds and Janus Rasmussen dedicated the year 2014 to explore the area in-between Ólafur's more acoustic, piano-based solo work and Janus's synth-heavy electro pop, with their collaborative electronic project Kiasmos.

By focusing solely on their self-titled debut album, Ólafur and Janus have been able to combine and further develop their unique sound aesthetics to complete an album driven by their mutual love for electronic music. Made in Ólafur's newly build studio in Reykjavík, Iceland, a majority of the album was recorded using acoustic instruments next to a variety of synthesisers, drum machines and tape delays. It features a live drummer, string quartet and Ólafur performing on the grand piano, producing an ambient, textured sound, which makes it a perfect home listen and equally danceable record. If you listen closely, you can spot them record the thumb piano, finger snapping and even the sound of the metal grinder of a lighter slowly to replace the usual electronic hi-hat sounds, giving the album a far more intimate and unique atmosphere.

We decided to start almost completely over with this record, so most of the material is written this year with the idea of making a record that can stand as one piece rather than a collection of songs. I am very excited to get a proper record out exploring a different territory than I am used to. I touch a lot on electronic genres in my own music but never have the opportunity to go full out electronic like we do here.' - Ólafur Arnalds

The Kiasmos project has been around since 2007, but because of all our other projects we never really got the time to sit down and write all the tracks we always wanted to. So when we early this year finally found the time to sit down and make a full length album there was so much we wanted to try out. The result surprised us a bit, it's deeper and more emotional than we imagined it to be, but that's the beauty of being able to make an album.' - Janus Rasmussen

Long-term Erased Tapes graphics collaborator Torsten Posselt at Feld Studios in Berlin created the cover artwork. Feld Studios was a natural choice for Kiasmos, seeing he also designed the cover for their Thrown EP, released previously.

Kiasmos is made up of Icelandic BAFTA-winning composer Ólafur Arnalds, known for his unique blend of minimal piano and string compositions with electronic sounds, and Janus Rasmussen from the Faroe Islands, known as the mastermind of the electro-pop outfit Bloodgroup. Based in Reykjavík, Arnalds used to work as a sound engineer, often for Rasmussen's other projects, where the two musicians discovered their common love for minimal, experimental music. They eventually became best friends, often hanging out in their studio, exploring electronic sounds.

Still compelled by the space they first opened, Gūsū returns with a second release, “Inhabiting Me”. What began as a shared approach, sprouted from intuition, has grown denser and more defined, holding on to that same fragility and openness. The duo continues to befriend with contrast, friction and proximity, shaping a language that inhabits their uncommon ground.

Vintage drum machines, tape delays and bass guitar widen the sonic ground, adding pulse, grain and instability, while the guzheng holds its place in full clarity. Each sound source becomes each other’s ornament, forming to gesture the next currents.

What emerges is less a fixed composition than a shifting form: precise in detail, impossible to contain. Listeners who have experienced Gūsū’s live performances will recognise this rare quality: a music of great sensitivity that expands with quiet force, drawing them inward rather than confronting them directly. The sound fades, re-enters, and leaves behind the trace of a lighthearted heaviness, echoing back in fragments, reappearing in memory with altered weight and colour.

Time bends inward and tones return altered. Between repetition and resonance, a tensile form begins to emerge. Neither nostalgic nor futuristic, neither static nor loose. Gūsū does not merge its materials into one smooth surface; it lets them stand close enough to sharpen one another.

Gūsū is a transcultural music project born from the confluence of two distinct artistic voices: Xueyan Chen and Nicolas Balmer. Together, they create a complex dialogue of sound that bridges the ancient and the modern, exploring the liminal spaces between tradition and experimentation. Gūsū’s inception was serendipitous, sparked by a shared stage in late 2022. What began as spontaneous improvisations has since evolved into a profound collaboration. The duo has performed under various monikers, finding their ultimate identity in the name Gūsū, a nod to both heritage and transformation.

To celebrate the 10th anniversary of the iconically brutal-yet-stylish Hotline Miami, the head honchos at Devolver Digital, Dennaton Games and Laced Records picked up the phone and made the call to bring back two killer soundtracks to vinyl.

This Standard Edition of the Hotline Miami 1 & 2: The Complete Collection 8LP box set includes traditional black vinyl.

Every in-game track from Hotline Miami and Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number is present and correct, including Castanets’ “You Are The Blood” (not previously available via the HM2 Steam soundtrack release.) 76 tracks remastered for vinyl will be pressed to heavyweight LPs that come in spined inner sleeves, contained in a rigid board lift-off lid box with spot UV highlight.

Also included in the box are two 12” art prints of the front and back cover pieces, and a 50 Blessings symbol felt slipmat and metallic sticker.

The box set features brand new eye-exploding artwork by long-time Dennaton collaborator Niklas Åkerblad — aka El Huervo aka Beard — alongside illustrator -IZMA-. El Huervo’s grisly covers depict contradictory accounts of a berserk face-off between Jacket and Biker, replete with entrails. -IZMA-’s disc sleeves explore scenes from the series’ lore, tapping into the violence, psychedelia and nihilism that pervade its characters and themes.

10 years on, neon-soaked indie hit Hotline Miami has become a cultural touchstone in a way that few video games ever achieve — and the electronic soundtracks for both series titles are held up as modern classics that have transcended gaming. At turns brutal and laid-back, pulsating and aimless, coked-up and checked-out, these two ultracool compilations were at the heart of the retro-’80s synthwave scene that swept the Internet over the 2010s.

Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.

Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.

Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.

Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.

By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.

Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.

Interstellar Echoes is a deep, hypnotic blend of Dub Techno and Dub House swing, built for late-night systems and long transitions. WM002 on Watermellow Music brings Benjamin Shock into full orbit mode: Warm chords drift through cavernous delays, low-end pulses stay locked and steady, and each track unfolds like a slow-moving spacecraft patient, spacious, and heavy with atmosphere. From the rolling drive of “Analog Odyssey” and the expansive glide of “Space & Time” to the tougher push of “Thunder Jam” and the weightless swirl of “Orbital Resonance,” this 12” is pure cosmic dubbing subtle, immersive, and endlessly repeatable.