Buscar:ben shift

A DJ, producer and significant figure in contemporary electronic music, Marcel Dettmann steps forward to contribute to Running Back’s ongoing Mastermix series. Whereas previous editions of Mastermix have taken an ear to the sound of lapsed, legendary clubs such as Wild Pitch and Front, Dettmann’s curation deftly captures the man himself in ongoing perpetual motion, raiding the vault for his own precision-tooled edits, long-employed on dancefloors to devastating effect. Alongside a continuous mix, this release arrives as a 3LP gatefold, and as a limited edition cassette.

Closely associated with Berlin’s techno landscape, Dettmann was born and raised in the former GDR, then later immersed in the bleary-eyed counter cultural landscape of post-unification Berlin. Initially oriented by post-punk, industrial and new-wave music, Dettmann has been DJing since 1993, always expanding and perfecting his repertoire. He later began working behind the counter at the city’s tastemaking rave boutique Hard Wax, and a decade after he first dropped a needle, became (and remains) resident at notable local nightspot Berghain/Panorama Bar, where his instincts have helped sculpt the signature sound of both main dancefloors.

Of course, you’re probably not asking, “Who is Marcel Dettmann?” More importantly, you might want to know; just what treats has he gifted us here? The trip begins with a simple pitch-shift skywards, transforming Identified Patient’s creeping ‘The Female Medical College of Pennsylvania’ into a peak-time freakout, before an alternate take on Toctronic’s ‘Bis uns das Licht vertreibt’ emerges from the vaults for the first time. Dating from 1995, and one of Dettmann’s all-time favourites, Cristian Vogel’s ‘Untitled’ clambers back into the box with respectable cuts, while John Bender’s ‘Victims of A Victimless Crime’ kicks off the flip sporting a new arrangement, transporting us back to the foundations of a confident, stripped-back sound.

A few subtle edits to Clark’s perilously funky ‘Dirty Pixie’ takes us to Dettmann’s remix of Junior Boys. Produced in 2010, it transposes the Canadian duo’s sophisticated pop with our curator in his minimal prime, and has since become an irresistible prize for high-minded diggers. The same can be said for Experimental Products’ explosive proto-electro anthem ‘Who Is Kip Jones?’, empowered from pricey Discogs purgatory with just the slightest of tweaks. It’s deservedly sandwiched between the guiding influences of Chicago and Detroit in the form of Mutant Beat Dance’s raw ‘The Human Factor’ and a shimmering new version of previous solo production ‘Water’, featuring close friend and Ostgut Ton ally, Ryan Elliot.

The second half of the Mastermix seamlessly connects the mechanical past and digital present of EBM and industrial in the dance, with Dettmann’s instincts as a guiding hand. Severed Heads’ iconic ‘We Have Come To Bless This House’ emerges with mere nips and tucks, while Nitzer Ebb’s ‘Shame’ is significantly reimagined as a highwire act of rhythm and tension, setting up a sensual second take on a 2017 remix of ‘Limbo’ from Swiss synth heroes, Yello.

Core musical memories are shaken and stirred with a context-shifting take on Frank Duval’s emotional classic ‘Ogon’, while Ian North’s ‘Sex Lust You’ and Ford Proco’s notable Coil collaboration ‘Expansion Naranja’ effectively throb with only minor adjustments, respectfully imagined as “shadow versions”. Meanwhile, a simple breakbeat lifts Albert Kuningas’s ‘Astraalprojektio’ in the direction of wide-eyed dancefloors, while a fresh take on K-Alexi Shelby’s ‘Season of The Real’ inexplicably emerges somehow even funkier than before.

The conclusion of the compilation leads back to Das Tier from the prolific experimentalist Conrad Schnitzler, whose swirling synths and hypnotic vocals are duly tightened by Dettmann, but only as he puts it, “in conversation with the original.” Concluding three discs and thirty years of commitment to the dancefloor, this Mastermix not only offers us the opportunity to eavesdrop on this endless exchange, but to gain some sought-after material for our own record collections.

Ever since the late 1950s bossa-nova revolution, Brazil’s influence on French music has been undeniable. Pierre Barouh, Georges Moustaki and a vast array of lesser known artists, all made the Musica Popular Brasileira (MPB) an axis of promotion at the service of a cool and metaphysical, modern and mixed Brazilian lifestyle. Some were seduced by the poetic languors of the bossa, some were looking for fun, and others just loved the American hybridization of jazz-bossa, jazz-samba.



What is bossa nova? One of its creators, Joao Gilberto said: "Its style, cadence, everything is samba. At the very start, we didn't call it bossa nova, we sang a little samba made up of a single note - Samba de uma nota so .... The discussion around the origins of bossa nova is therefore useless”. It is nevertheless useful to remember that these magnificent Brazilian songs, which the guitarist describes as samba, were shifted and balanced around improbable chords. "I like things that lean, the in-betweens that limp with grace," said Pierre Barrouh, quoting Jean Cocteau.



With emotion, arrangements for violin and supple guitar licks, bossa nova rapidly changed. A transformation that can be heard in the Tchic, tchic, French Bossa Nova 1963-1974 compilation, the result of a cultural reappropriation, which traveled through the United States and supplemented itself in France.

A musical revolution that has remained significant, bossa nova was born in Rio. From 1956 to 1961, Brazil lived through its golden years. In five years, the country had invented its modernist style. Elected president in 1956, Juscelino Kubitschek de Oliveira, an elegant man with a broad forehead, brandished a promising slogan: "Fifty years of progress in five years". He quickly got to work. Not worried about increasing debt, he launched the project for a new federal capital, Brasilia, designed by the communist architect Oscar Niemeyer. Volkswagen opened state-of-the-art factories and created the “fusquinha”, the Beetle. In Rio, the Vespa made its first appearance. The Arpoador Surf Club crew run into the “girl” from Ipanema, Helô Pinheiro - the tanned garota ("chick"), between a flower and mermaid, who at 17 walked by the Veloso bar, where the fiery author and composer, Tom Jobim and Vinicius de Moraes, were getting drunk on whiskey. From then on, bossa symbolized cool.

In 1958, Joao Gilberto recorded Chega de Saudade, which the directors of Philips denied, calling it "music for fagots". The marketing director, who believed in it, secretly pressed 3000 78-inch vinyls and distributed them at schools around Rio, creating a tidal wave.

American jazzmen then took over. In particular, trumpeter Dizzy Gillespie and guitarist Charlie Byrd. In November 1962, the Brazilian Ministry of Foreign Affairs funded a "Bossa-Nova" concert at Carnegie Hall in New York, inviting the genre’s pioneers. Unprepared, the show soon turned to disaster. But the troupe was invited to the White House by Jackie Kennedy. The first lady loved "the new beat" and in particular Maria Ninguem, a song by Carlos Lyra, later covered by Brigitte Bardot.

In Brazil, the 1964 military coup quickly ended this euphoria. The destructive atmosphere that ensued pushed many Brazilian musicians to leave, if not to exile. Thus, Tom Jobim, Sergio Mendes and Joao Gilberto arrived to the United States. In New York, Joao Gilberto met saxophonist Stan Getz. At the time, he was married to the Bahianese Astrud Weinert Gilberto, who had a German father. She had never sung before, but she knew how to speak English. Getz therefore asked her to replace her husband on The Girl From Ipanema. The Getz/Gilberto record with Tom Jobim on piano, was released in March 1964. Phil Ramone, the "pope of pop" was in charge of sound.

Bossa nova arrived in Paris through the classic “guitar-voice” channel (Pierre Barouh, Baden Powell, Moustaki…) But France loved jazz and Paris had already welcomed its American contributors. All these good people were to pass through Saint-Germain-des-Prés. The cabaret l'Escale became the Mecca of Latin American sound where one could find Pierre Barrouh and his friends, such as the Camara Trio, samba-jazz aces, whose only record was published by the Saravah label. With a band strangely called Les Masques (a band that included Nicole Croisille and Pierre Vassiliu, among others), the Camara Trio recorded an interesting Brazilian Sound, including the track Il faut tenir which is present on this tasty compilation of rarities.

Other enlightened musicians can also be found on the compilation, such as Jean-Pierre Sabar (songwriter for Hardy, Auffray, Leforestier ...) and the French pop rock organist Balthazar. In 1975, Sabar recorded Aurinkoinen Musiikkimatka on a Finnish label, which featured the crazy Vai, Vai, included on this record. We are now following the footsteps of Brazilian electronic musicians such as Sergio Mendes, Eumir Deodato or Marcos Valle who created funk and disco sounds on their keyboards and synthesizers. A style that influenced Véronique Sanson when she wrote Jusqu’à la Tombée de la nuit in 1969 for Isabelle de Funès, the niece of Louis and a great friend of Michel Berger - Sanson did end up singing this track on her 1992 Sans Regret record.


The pinnacle of exoticism and travel, Sylvia Fels’ Corto Maltese includes bongos, sea mist and ocean sounds. The title was taken from Jacky Chalard’s concept album written in 1974, Je suis vivant, mais j’ai peur (I am alive, but I am scared), based on Gilbert Deflez’s science fiction novel.


However, bossa nova extended the scope of popularity. "In the 1970s, I was a fan of Sergio Mendes, Getz / Gilberto. I fell in love with this music that I knew because I had been an orchestral singer, " explained Isabelle Aubret, who in 1971 delivered a composite record of covers by the very funky Jorge Ben, Orfeu Negro, Tom Jobim, Vinicius de Morais and Jean Ferrat. "I recorded this album for Meys Records in Paris, far from Brazil, with wonderful musicians, François Raubert, Roland Vincent, Alain Goraguer...". The latter wrote the arrangements for Casa Forte, a very percussive title borrowed from Edu Lobo, one of the initiators of the bossa who spent time in California. "Jazz and bossa came together and produced very rhythmic music. I love singing, it allows me to dream, to have fun, to feel a high on stage, and these songs brought me joy, made me swing, my singing felt like a dance.”


The world tours of French singers and their desire for the tropics, often brought them to Rio with its hills, forests, caipirinhas and tanned bodies. There are surprises though, like this Iemenja (Iemenja is the goddess of the sea in the Afro-Brazilian candomblé religion). Not unlike the composer and musician Jean-Pierre Lang, based in Sao Paulo, Claire Chevalier taught Brazil to Brazil. In 1970, the singer and painter published a 45-inch vinyl, Mon mari et mes amants (My husband and my lovers), under the improbable pseudonym of Clarinha (little Claire). She was then living in Rio, with her husband, Joël Leibovitz, who founded a band called Azimuth, and who owned a record label specialized in "sambas enredos" songs for samba school parades.


For its B side, she asked Pierre Perret to come up with lyrics for a song composed by Carlos Imperial: "Oh goddess of the sea, o goddess Iemenja, I bring a white rose to adorn your long hair ..." . "Perret came to see us, and we had fun, remembers Joël Leibovitz. We wrote Lemenja for fun, we recorded it at the Havaí studio, behind the Central do Brasil the central station. Erlon Chaves, the arranger who worked with Elis Regina, joined us" adding his share of Afro-Brazilian percussions and funky brass to the mix.

There is a common misunderstanding in Franco-Brazilian history: that bossa, admittedly hedonistic, is perceived as funny, even though the poets who wrote the texts are often philosophizing on the human condition. Its French interpreters pull it towards a carnival inspired universe, far removed from its fundamental essence. Thus, Jean Constantin covered the famous Samba da minha terra, an ode to the art of samba written by the classic Bahian composer Dorival Caymmi, renaming it with the enticing title of Pas tant de tchi tchi pompon: "On your pier there is no tchi tchi / when you arch your back, you know everything is alright ”(lyrics by Gérard Calvi). This expedited bossa aims for the absurd, but retains a certain elegance.

Indeed, Jean Constantin was not an idiot, the rather large man had a huge mustache and liked fantasy, (Les pantoufles à papa, Le pacha, inspired by cha-cha-cha-cha, salsa and jazz) but he was also the lyricist of Mon manège à moi interpreted by Edith Piaf, the composer of Mon Truc en plume by Zizi Jeanmaire and the soundtrack of François Truffaut’s 400 Blows. Le Poulpe, published in 1970, from which this bossa is extract, was arranged by Jean-Claude Vannier, an accomplice of Serge Gainsbourg’s Melody Nelson. In short: "There is enough of samba / By looking at the parasol / Because my poor cabeza / Is going to die in the sun".

Even the American actress Marpessa Down, who was at the heart of the bossa nova revolution with her role as Euridyce in Marcel Camus’ film Orfeu Negro, winner of the 1959 Cannes Palme d'or, fed the clichée with Je voudrais parler au petit cuica - "Tell me how you manage to always make people want to dance / It's true, I must admit that I cannot resist your magic" - in consequence, once can hear the cuica, a little drum inherited from the Bantu.


But bossa nova had many angles. Societal, of course, pushing actresses who were symbols of women's liberation like Brigitte Bardot, Jeanne Moreau, or Sophia Loren to engage in the exercise of accelerated bossa. In February of 1963, Sophia Loren made a record in French in Rome, Je ne t'aime plus, featuring the song De jour en jour, a bossa written by two Italians, Armando Trovajoli and Tino Fornai, which was released a little later by Barclay. Bossa accompanied the 1960s, a decade of moral liberation. Ann Sorel, who interpreted La Poupée des favellas, caused a sensation with L’amour à plusieurs, a provocative song written by Frédéric Bottom and Jean-Claude Vannier. As for the actress Andrea Parisy, she displayed her bourgeois cheekiness in Marcel Carné's Les Tricheurs before interpreting Les mains qui font du bien. And Magalie Noël, the friend of Boris Vian, who sung Johnny fais-moi mal, was hired to sing Une énorme Samba, composed by Alain Goraguer (arranger to Gainsbourg, Bobby Lapointe and Jean Ferrat) with lyrics by Frédéric Botton.

But in the end, of what wood is bossa nova made of? The answer is given by Christianne Legrand, daughter of Raymond the conductor, and sister to Michel the composer: "With me, with jà" - jà means "immediately" in Portuguese. In 1972, the singer, an expert in vocal jazz and a member of the Double Six, published Le Brésil de Christianne Legrand. Two songs included on the Tchic Tchic compilation that demonstrate how bossa, jazz, funk, rock, etc. work like a swiss army knife: the music is used to denounce broken systems, or miracles, HLM et ciné roman, Cent mille poissons dans ton filet, two songs from the O Cafona soundtrack, a successful telenovela broadcast, at the time in black and white, on TV Globo. The first was adapted in French by the fighter and friend of the Legrand tribe, Agnès Varda. The second is content with a play on words, jostling them into a summer fun.



Véronique Mortaigne

With Dispersion, Loom & Thread return to the volatile architecture of the expanded piano trio - and quietly fracture it from within.

Daniel Klein (drums), Tobias Fröhlich (double bass) and Tom Schneider (keys, sampler) remain the sole agents on stage and in the final recording. The triangle holds. And yet, the field has expanded. For their second studio album, the trio fed their improvisations with the timbral signatures of guest saxophone and vibraphone players - not just as additional voices to be featured, but also as material to be absorbed, atomized and redistributed. The result is not augmentation but thorough refraction.

Where the debut album explored the recursive labyrinth of Schneider's live sampling of his own piano, Dispersion introduces an external grain into the feedback system. Breath and metal. Reed turbulence and struck resonance. The trio sampled extended improvisations by saxophone and vibes players: Victor Fox, Asger Nissen, Volker Heuken, and L&T's own Daniel Klein; dissected their attacks, overtones and decay curves, and integrated these fragments into the trio's internal circuitry. What emerges is a play of presences without bodies - instrumental ghosts circulating through the dense weave of rhythm and keys.

At first, one might hear the familiar relational tension: Klein's polyrhythmic elasticity interlocking with Fröhlich's tensile double bass figurations, Schneider poised at the hinge between tonal field and percussive impulse. But soon, the surface splinters - again. A vibraphone shimmer appears, yet no mallets are visible. A reed multiphonic surges through the texture, bending space between bass and drums. These events are neither quotations nor overlays; they are redistributed energies, dispersed across the trio's grammar. A digital multidimensional interplay ensues.

If the first album unfolded as a two-tiered game - live phrase and sampled reflection - Dispersion adds a further axis. The sampled materials from other improvisers are stripped of their erstwhile two-way interaction and reconstituted as malleable particles. Signifier detached from origin, resonance detached from gesture. The trio navigates a constantly shifting topology in which acoustic memory and electronic manipulation are indistinguishable.

Crucially, the album never abandons the physical urgency of three musicians reacting in real time. The additional timbral layers do not thicken the texture into opacity; rather, they introduce stark points and arrows of diffraction. Density opens into prismatic clarity. Lines splinter and regroup. What seems like a quartet or quintet collapses back into three bodies negotiating an expanded field.

Dispersion is not about addition but about distribution - of agency, of timbre, of temporal perspective. It is an album in which the trio setting becomes a site of multiplicity without surrendering its immediacy. A dissolution not only of the divide between present experience and memory, but between inside and outside, self and other.

Three musicians. Countless vectors. A music that fractures in order to cohere.

CREDITS:
Tom Schneider: piano & sampler
Tobi Fröhlich: double bass
Daniel Klein: drums & percussion

sample sources:
Victor Fox: tenor saxophone
Asger Nissen: alto saxophone
Volker Heuken: vibes
Daniel Klein: vibes

Recorded by Martin Dressler at Bauer Studios, Ludwigsburg.
Mixed & mastered by Martin Ruch.
Artwork by Viet Hoa Le.

We welcome you to the third installment of Scala. Each new release on Scala Muziek reflects the evolving mindset of its founder. For the third chapter, Pascal Benjamin delivers Soul Extension EP, an exploration of movement, mood, and the subtle shifts that define his sound. A1: Almost Fact sets the tone with taut rhythms and shimmering low-end pulses, balancing tension and release in constant motion. A2: Shift Happens dives deeper into modulation, its warped stabs and filtered delays gradually building a shifting, evolving energy. On the flip: B1: Extension expands into rolling grooves and atmospheric layers, blending vintage warmth with modern precision. B2: Phases closes with a sparse, contemplative mood—fragmented voices and echoes creating a hypnotic sense of drift. Soul Extension captures Pascal at a point where artist and label move forward as one, shaping the next chapter of Scala Muziek’s identity.

DeepLabs opens 2026 with an exciting new release, “Förvandling,” from Tarik Hensen—the collaborative project of two exceptional producers, Martinou & Ben Kaczor.
This release completes a full-circle journey: rooted in Detroit techno, traveling through Malmö, and landing in Basel, where these influences converge into a singular, immersive statement.
Longtime admirer of both artists’ solo works, Luke Hess joins the project with his own interpretation of Förvandling, bringing his distinct Detroit-informed perspective to the release.
Förvandling is the Swedish word for “transformation,” describing the metamorphosis of a caterpillar into a butterfly.
The title reflects the evolution of techno itself—how it shifts and reshapes across cities, communities, and eras while retaining its core spirit.
Varp refers to the vertical warp threads in woven fabric—essential structural lines that hold everything together.
The track mirrors this concept: hypnotic percussion and immersive ambience interlace with melodic tones, unified through Tarik’s live dub mixing approach, creating a rich, fluid tapestry of sound.
Malm translates to raw ore, the unrefined material that, when forged with alloys, becomes durable metal.
True to its name, the track channels a deep, raw warehouse energy—refined into a functional gem through harmonious stabs, textured layers, and driving momentum.
Closing the EP, Luke Hess’s remix of Förvandling draws from elements across the original works while incorporating new audio stems from the DeepLabs studio.
The result is a seamless transformation of Tarik Hensen’s aesthetic into Luke’s unmistakable Detroit sound—an adventurous, atmospheric journey crafted for extended DJ sets and immersive dancefloor moments.
Tarik Hensen and Luke Hess invite you to weave these tracks into your curated selections and allow them to transform the dancefloor in unexpected ways.

Geoglyph is the new duo project by Alohn and Khey Mysterio, a convergence of two deeply singular practices into a single subterranean signal. Their debut album arrives as the eighth reference on Organic Signs, not as a collection of tracks but as a carved artifact: six inscriptions pressed into vinyl, mapping a sonic territory where time, rhythm and texture are no longer linear, but layered like geological memory.

Through Geoglyph, Alohn and Khey Mysterio convey a message from below, or beyond. A pulse engraved from forgotten times in the basement of reality, reactivated by abyssal basses, vibrating layers and fractured textures. Exhumed from the subterranean strata where psychedelic dub, mineral techno and fractal dubstep fuse into raw energy, their music becomes a point of contact: every beat, every silence, every oscillation acting as a coordinate toward another perception. What unfolds is not simply sound design, but an invocation, rhythms as sigils, timbre as gnosis, signals that seem to arrive already charged with intention.

Across the album, Alohn’s guitar notes fall like cascades through the mix, dissolving at times into controlled feedback and crystallizing into melodic fragments that hover between tension and release. These organic gestures are interwoven with Khey Mysterio’s dense low-end architectures and rhythmic frameworks, creating a constantly shifting terrain: from weightless transmissions and ritualistic voices to moments of overwhelming propulsion where the music suddenly breaks open with tectonic force. The record moves fluidly between meditative suspension and explosive motion, never settling into a single state for long.

A strong undercurrent of what has come to be known as “druidstep” runs through the album, a term coined within the 95 Open Tabs universe to describe a form of dubstep untethered from genre convention, rooted instead in bass as ritual, in groove as invocation. Here it meets dub-techno pulse, psychedelic echoes and high-velocity 4×4 pressure, drawing subtle influence from underground bass cultures without ever becoming referential. The result is a body of work that feels both ancient and forward-leaning, cyclical rather than linear: a living geoglyph that reveals different meanings depending on how (and where) it is read.

As the final movement accelerates into its closing phase, the album releases its energy outward, with frequencies stretched toward their limits, leaving behind the trace of a completed ceremony. In this sense, Geoglyph’s debut stands as a defining moment within the Organic Signs continuum: a record that unfolds rather than explains, offering an experience to be entered, absorbed, and carried. With this release, the label continues to explore new sonic spaces, evolving and expanding while giving deeper meaning to its own essence. A message from beneath the surface, waiting for those willing to tune in.

Más de este género

"I wanted to travel / Home into somewhere,"Ana Roxanne breathes across an eerie suspended drone on "The Age of Innocence". "I wanted to try / And go very far." These are the first words we hear on Poem 1 and reintroduce an artist who's in a conspicuously different phase of her life than she was when her debut album, Because of a Flower, sprouted nearly six years ago.

Heartbroken and reflective, Roxanne surveys the transformations that followed and displays a new-found boldness. Her voice is naked, vulnerable and alive, no longer shrouded in tape noise or looped and echoed beyond recognition beneath layered electroacoustic textures.

Throughout the course of Poem 1, Roxanne displays her skill as a singer and songwriter in the classic sense, using the limited instrumentation simply to accent her exposed tones. Muted piano phrases and plucked bass notes languidly trail her anguished siren song on "Berceuse in A-flat Minor, Op. 45", making each word count.

On "Keepsake" meanwhile, she sounds as if she's alone in an abandoned bar, stroking the dust off the piano's keys as she inventories her emotional scars. There's a smell of old whisky in the air, but Poem 1 is a remarkably sober album; never wallowing in self pity, Roxanne finds catharsis in the logic of her expressions, twisting out the edges of her memories into surreal, cinematic asides. "Untitled II", the album's pronounced, uninhibited centerpiece, delivers on the Lynchian promise that's been present since her first EP, 2019's ~~~. "

And when she interprets the Robert Schumann's lied "Stille Tränen" on "One Shall Sleep", she turns Justinus Kerner's words into a whispered echo of her own grief, narrating the 19th century poem over syrupy synthesizers and strings. There's a light emerging on the horizon, though; burying her past on the choral standout '"Cover Me", Roxanne shifts the pace and the mood on 'Atonement', lifting her voice into a gentle lilt.

Blue Hour distills over a decade of artistry into his debut album Selva, unearthing eight tracks inspired by ancient wisdom and forgotten worlds.
Blue Hour is the moniker of Luke Standing, a multifaceted artist, producer, and label owner navigating between past and present electronic dance music. Over more than a decade, Standing has built a career balancing transformative craft with a sharp curatorial approach, earning him respect across the global scene. After years of sonic experimentation, he now releases his debut LP Selva. “I never set out to make an LP – it just wrote itself,” he says. “I followed my intuition, and the music found its own path.”
Born and raised in the UK, Standing grew up in parallel with club culture, moving between Brighton, Bristol and Berlin while running club nights and establishing himself under former aliases Furesshu and Esoteric.
He launched his Blue Hour project in late 2013, shortly after relocating to Berlin. Initially a platform for his own music, Blue Hour quickly became a collaborative hub, blurring the lines between personal output and curation. Over time, Standing has cultivated an international ecosystem of like-minded artists while continuously expanding his own sonic horizons.
Selva marks his first full-length studio album, weaving a lifetime of influences into a cohesive narrative inspired by ancient wisdom and forgotten worlds. The eight-track double LP transforms his inner dialogue into a subconscious story pulling inspiration from a labyrinthine network of influence and experience. “I followed the music obsessively, reflecting and refining until the story revealed itself,” Standing explains.
“To me, the LP evokes Amazonian or Mayan jungles, themes of exploration, the mysteries of the natural world, wisdom passed down through generations. I didn't set out to write about these things consciously,
they just emerged on their own.” he adds.The album was shaped through intensive work in his studio and periods spent in subtropical locations.
Listening closely, Selva unfolds like a modern ceremony: the opening tracks channel his early UK dance influences, shifting into blends of traditional and contemporary techno, then expanding into melodic soundscapes before concluding with transcendental textures and atmospheres. The result is an introspective journey where functionality and emotive storytelling coexist, revealing a depth in Blue Hour we haven’t heard before.
Whether performing, curating, or producing, Standing operates with a deep commitment to sound, culture, and collaboration. More than an artist, he is an architectural thinker of what electronic music could become. “Every release is my own metamorphosis,” he says. “This LP reflects my current form, and I’m curious to see what the next chapter brings.” Few artists can unify a lifetime of genre-spanning influences into a sound as sharp and focused. On Selva, Blue Hour does exactly that, opening a new era of deeper
immersion from his Berlin-based label.

With Black Koyo, Mattias De Craene enters a sound world at once intimate and vast. Born from journeys in Morocco and Brussels, the project traces the rhythms, chants, and spirits of the Gnawa tradition, revealing a quiet resonance that echoes De Craene's own search for depth and presence. Guibri, qraqueb, call-and-response chants, saxophone, loops, and electronics come together in a trance-induced dialogue - ritualistic, elemental, and dreamlike - creating a space where listening becomes immersion, tradition meets imagination, and music unfolds as a shared act of reflection and wonder.

About Mattias De Craene
Mattias De Craene's artistic path is marked by rare coherence. As a central voice in Nordmann and MDC III, he developed a physical, rock-inflected jazz language driven by propulsion, volume, and trance-like collective energy. Over time, a period of personal rupture - burnout, tinnitus, depression - shifted his focus inward. The saxophone became a breathing, textural presence, and in his solo work, he weaves saxophone, electronics, loops, and minimal forms into a cinematic, hushed world where repetition, resonance, and silence slow perception. Rooted in ambient and introspection, his music prizes attention over impact, precision over excess - a quiet intensity recognized with a nomination as Musician for the Music Industry Awards (MIA's).

About Black Koyo
Black Koyo is a Brussels-based ensemble and one of the most compelling voices of the Gnawa tradition outside Morocco. Led by maalem Hicham Bilali, the group brings guibri, qrraqueb, and call-and-response chants to life with trance-like intensity and ritual precision. Their music is both rooted and contemporary, weaving earthbound rhythms and vocal invocations into ecstatic, immersive soundscapes, creating a space where ancestral resonance meets present-day imagination.

About Jan Bang
Jan Bang is a pioneering Norwegian producer and musician, celebrated for his mastery of live sampling and his ability to merge electronics with improvisation, rhythm, and texture in real time. He mixed the album and occasionally joins live performances, bringing his signature approach to sound as co-founder of the influential Punkt Festivaland collaborator with artists such as Jon Hassell, David Sylvian, Arve Henriksen, and ECM Records' roster. As a performer and sound architect, Bang creates immersive, trance-like sonic textures where silence and sound carry equal weight. Within Mattias De Craene ftBlack Koyo, his live sampling becomes an organic instrument, weaving saxophone, electronics, and Gnawa rhythms into hypnotic, physically charged soundscapes.

Line-up & credits
Mattias De Craene - sax, electronics | Hicham Bilali - guibri, vocals, qraqueb |Ismael Akhraz - vocals, qraqueb | Marwan Abantor - vocals, qraqueb
All tracks are original gnawa traditionals played by Black Koyo and arranged by Mattias De Craene.
Album produced & recorded by Mattias De Craene in Essaouira, Morocco and hometown Ghent, Belgium 2025.
Text by Hicham Bilali.
Mixed by Jan Bang at Punkt Studio
Mastered by Lieven Van Pee
Artwork by Marina Sviridova
Design by Benoit Van Geel
Manufactured and distributed by N.E.W.S.
Executive production by W.E.R.F. records
Supported by Flemish Government, Jazzlab, nona, HA Concerts, Aubergine artist Management,
KAAP, La Bestia (Wout Van Putten) & mdcmu.sic vzw.
2026 (c) W.E.R.F. records

A Profound Non-Event, the debut album by Sydney-based three piece Daily Toll, comprises 11 songs traversing three years of forged friendships, collaborative experimentation and a shared love of growing through words and song.

Those attuned to the ever-vibrant Australian underground may already be well familiar with Daily Toll, their consistent live presence since their inception in 2021 embroidered by a handful of (mostly) home-recorded, (mostly) digital self-releases that have steadily accumulated an appreciative following. Initially the project of self taught musician, poet & artist Kata Szász-Komlós(they/them) and Jasper Craig-Adams(he/him), and expended to a three piece with the more recent addition of friend Tom Stephens(he/him), Daily Toll represents the union of three unique creative dispositions, of relationships blooming through the push and pull of creative practice. Mapping the band’s existence through their recorded output is to bear witness to the flux of three people learning to respond to one another and gently ossify into a collective vision that at once calls to mind folk song intimacy, post-punk dynamics and the artful poeticism of an adjacent Flying Nun legacy.

If those earlier recordings reflect a band imagining themselves into being in real time, A Profound Non-Event observes a clear shift in both conviction and approach. Recorded in just three days with Alex Bennett at the purely analogue Sound Recordings studio in Castlemaine and holing up at night in the century old cottage situated beside the studio, sheltering from the late-June wind and rain within walls littered with instruments and microphones, lighting fires to stay warm. Kata describes the experience as defined by “candle light and creative camaraderie”, an idyllic account of a collection of songs that glide with an undeniably warm, easy charm, evidenced in particular in the record’s second half as the tone turns increasingly introspective, the very sound of a cold evening’s drift into night. When contrasted with the moody swirl and sing-song bounce of the opening trio of tracks, there’s clear evidence of a band not simply in the process of becoming, but committed to finding their truth in that process.
Still, if Daily Toll display a reluctance to be wholly defined, then album centerpiece ‘Killincs‘ (positioned in the middle for a reason) might just be their Rosetta Stone. A verbose rumination on unsettled feelings of isolation and longing, exploring the challenges in making peace with one's decisions amidst the uncertainty of an often harsh world and the realisation that some things remain best unresolved - “I have the keys still, but I’ve buried the path”.

The Activist returns to Sneaker Social Club with a fresh double-drop of mutant grime futurism featuring deadly flows from Tia Talks and Jammz.

Low End Activist first came through centred on link-ups with grime MCs before widening the scope of his sound with purely instrumental, conceptually-charged albums. This sure-shot double single reaffirms his affinity for outsider grime production as a vessel for deft bars from breakthrough talent and seasoned mic veterans alike.

On 'False Idols' and 'Atomic Clock' there's an emphasis on sharply angled, glitchy production that bends and warps well outside the established formula of MC-focused beats. Constantly shifting, hyper-detailed and front-loaded with walloping slabs of bass, both cuts are devastating in either vocal or instrumental form. Tia Talks pulls no punches stating her truth on the former, while Jammz muses on the endless battle against time on the latter, continuing the peerless run of avant-grime that courses through the Activist's back catalogue.

Gatefold Sleeve

M’Bamina – African Roll (1975)
The story of an album born between Africa, Italy, and the nightclub culture of the 1970s
In the heart of 1970s Italy — a country undergoing profound social change and a music scene just beginning to open itself to distant sounds and cultures — an extraordinary, almost improbable story took shape. It is the story of a group of young African musicians who found their way to Europe, of a Turin nightclub that became a crossroads for communities and experimenters, and of an album which, released in small numbers and largely unnoticed at the time, is now considered a rare jewel of Afro-fusion.
The band called themselves M’Bamina — an ensemble of musicians from Congo, Cameroon, and Benin, who arrived in Italy in the early Seventies. Settling between northern Italy and the Pavia area, they began performing in small clubs and community events, bringing with them a vibrant rhythmic heritage: African polyrhythms, call-and-response vocals, funk-infused bass lines, and Caribbean or Afro-Latin colours absorbed along their musical journeys. Their raw, contagious energy on stage quickly drew attention.
Meanwhile, in Turin, another story was unfolding. There was a venue becoming almost legendary: Voom Voom, one of the city’s liveliest nightclubs, run by Ivo Lunardi. The club attracted an eclectic crowd — students, artists, foreigners, night owls — and Lunardi quickly understood that the dancefloor wasn’t just a place for music, but a melting pot for a new kind of cultural energy. Out of this vibrant atmosphere came his idea: to turn the club’s name into a small independent record label, Voom Voom Music, capable of capturing the spirit of those years and giving voice to unconventional projects.

When Lunardi heard M’Bamina, he immediately sensed that this was the sound he had been searching for: fresh, different from anything circulating in Italy at the time, and capable of blending African tradition with funk and European sensibility. He brought them into the studio.
Production was handled by Lunardi along with Christian Carbaza Michel, while the engineering was entrusted to Danilo Pennone, a young sound technician with a sharp, intuitive ear.
The recording sessions — held in Turin in 1975 — produced a remarkably warm and direct sound. The music feels almost live: grooves rooted in African tradition, but open to funk-rock structures and modern arrangements. It is a natural fusion, never forced. Tracks move between tribal rhythms, funk basslines, light electric guitars, congas and Afro-Latin percussion, with call-and-response vocals and melodies that echo both Congolese tradition and the lineage of Latin jazz. Not by chance, one of the album’s most striking tracks, Watchiwara, reinterprets a Latin standard through M’Bamina’s own rhythmic language.

The album was titled African Roll — a name that was already a statement of intention. It is African music that “rolls,” that moves, adapts, transforms within a new geographic and cultural setting. It is not strictly Afrobeat, nor Congolese rumba, nor Western funk: it is a spontaneous, hybrid blend, shaped more by lived experience than by any calculated aesthetic program.
When African Roll was released, the world around it barely noticed. Distribution was limited, and 1970s Italy had yet to develop a cultural framework for receiving such music. The national music press rarely paid attention to African or “world” productions. The album slipped into silence — though the band’s own story did not.

M’Bamina continued performing across Europe and Africa, even sharing a stage in Cameroon with none other than Manu Dibango. By the late Seventies, they moved to Paris, signed with Fiesta/Decca, and recorded a second LP, Experimental (1978). Meanwhile, the peculiar record they had made in Turin began to resurface quietly among vinyl collectors, Afro-funk enthusiasts, and DJs hunting for forgotten grooves.
That is when the album’s fate began to shift.

Over the decades, African Roll emerged as an almost unique document: a snapshot of an intercultural Italy before the word “intercultural” even existed, a fragment of migrant history, a spontaneous experiment in musical fusion born far from major industry circuits but rich in authenticity. Original copies began commanding high prices on the collector’s market, and the album became recognized as one of the hidden classics of European Afro-fusion from the 1970s.
Today, more than fifty years later, this reissue finally restores visibility and dignity to a project that deserves to be heard, studied, and celebrated. It is not simply an album: it is the testimony of a rare cultural encounter, born in an Italy unaware of how fertile such exchanges would one day become.

It is the story of a visionary producer, an extraordinary band, and a fleeting moment in which music, migration, and nightlife came together to create something genuinely new.
African Roll is — now more than ever — the sound of a bridge: between continents, between eras, between cultures. A record that, after rolling far and wide, has finally come home.

Be As One boss Shlomi Aber returns to Chris Liebing's CLR with the 'Schema' EP, arriving 24th April 2026 alongside a remix from James Ruskin. Active since 1994, Aber has been a cornerstone of underground techno for over three decades, with his focused, hypnotic approach in both the studio and DJ booth leading to releases on some of the scene's most respected labels, including Cocoon, Ovum, Nonplus, and Figure. With the 'Schema' EP, he follows his recent 'Retrospective' EP for Ben Klock's Klockworks, as well as previous CLR outings such as the 'Limelight' EP (2025), and the 'Remote 101' EP (2023), which both kept a spot in the Beatport Techno chart for over two years after release, while winning support from the likes of Carl Cox, Alienata, Dave Clarke, and many more.

Shlomi Aber's 'Schema' EP opens with the title track and heads straight into subterranean territory, pairing weighty low-end pressure with tightly controlled tension. Rattling bass foundations are o?set by sharp hi-hats and static-laced textures that flicker through the mix, keeping the groove locked and the atmosphere charged.

On remix duties, James Ruskin, founder of the seminal Blueprint, delivers a shadowy, atmospheric rework. Eerie pads hang in the background as swampy bass anchors the rhythm, with haunted melodic elements slowly unfolding to create a deep, immersive take built for late hours and dark rooms.

Closing track 'Gasolina' sees Aber shifting into broken-beat territory, where warm, glitchy rhythms loop with hypnotic precision. Ghostly synth motifs drift in and out of focus, giving the track a cinematic, heady quality that rounds out the release with understated intensity.

Founded by influential techno lynchpin Chris Liebing in 1999 and reemerging in 2021 after a five-year hiatus, Create Learn Repeat (CLR) has hosted a range of artists like Dubfire, Flug, Bjarki, DJ Dextro, and more while also focusing on developing newer acts in the scene, such as Risa Taniguchi, The Southern, and Klint.

San Diego’s Mrs. Magician has always bent surf music and punk into something delightfully off-kilter — sun-soaked, hook-heavy power pop with a lyrical fixation on life’s darker undercurrents. Their 2012 debut, Strange Heaven, was a nihilistic pop statement that grew into a cult classic. The 2016 follow-up, Bermuda, sharpened the edges with punchy, nervy songwriting. Both records were produced by John Reis (Rocket From The Crypt, Hot Snakes, Drive Like Jehu), cementing the band’s place in Southern California’s underground lineage. Now, in 2026, Mrs. Magician reemerges with their long-awaited third LP, Spiritual Hangover. Recorded at Dave Grohl’s Studio 606 and Singing Serpent Studios with producer Christian Cummings, Spiritual Hangover finds songwriter Jacob Turnbloom trading youthful nihilism for something more reflective. Where earlier records wrestled with existential dread through anthemic defiance, this new collection embraces uncertainty — an admission of ignorance in the face of the human condition, paired with a genuine longing for connection and understanding. The humor remains. The hooks are sharper than ever. But the perspective has shifted.

These songs feel less like a declaration of dominance and more like a celebration of fragility — an acknowledgment that life is fleeting, confusing, and still worth enjoying. The album features Andrew Montoya (drums) and Mark Rivera (bass) of The Sess, Ian Fowles (guitar) of The Aquabats, and John Reis (guitar). Spiritual Hangover channels the bright urgency of late-’70s power pop through a distinctly Californian lens — warm, melodic, and irresistibly alive. “Super fun, well crafted, with great melodies. It gives me that late ’70s power pop energy I loved so much as a kid. Every track has something joyous to grab onto. In a world full of bleak news, Spiritual Hangover is a warming blast of California sunshine.” — Walter Schreifels (Gorilla Biscuits/Quicksand)

One of the UK’s rising talents in recent times, J6 continues his upward trajectory with an enormous four-tracker on underground fan favourites, Locked In Dam. The party starting crew go hand in hand with the refined J6 ethos, as he delivers a dynamite selection of tracks for your record bag. His familiar low end driven sound, combined with tinges of acid and futuristic textures moving between house and modern electro, shapes the ‘Devil Baby’ EP into a cohesive and powerful statement.

The title track is built upon powerful drums and squelchy, spaced-out tones, combined with trippy vocal stabs from Martina, who features on the record. This is prime J6 territory and not to be underestimated. Next up, ‘Biohazard’ introduces mysterious synths that create a transcending atmosphere, shifting the dance floor into the next gear with further twisted acid movements. On the flip side, the Manchester based beatmaker teams up with Ben Gough for ‘Time Capsule’, delivering pacey energy that never lets up, driven by nostalgic tech house drums and icy hi-hats. Rounding off the EP, ‘Emergence’ simmers with an emotive dark energy throughout; if we weren’t dancing with the devil before, we certainly are now.

A certain tip for the tastemakers amongst us, these are four dynamic dance floor cuts to be shared deep within the dark realms of the night.

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.

The union of Antwerp synthesist David Edren and Tokyo minimalist Hiroki Takahashi is a fit so natural as to feel preordained. Both traffic in subtle shades of contemplative electronics, marked by patience, space, and poetic restraint. And both have rich histories of curation and collaboration – Edren in the duo Spirit & Form alongside Bent Von Bent, and Takahashi as proprietor of the Kankyō record shop, as well as one fourth of cosmic ambient quartet UNKNOWN ME. Mutual fans of one another’s work, they began sharing stems in the latter half of 2020, which slowly blossomed into a collection of multi-hued compositions inspired by notions of connectivity and impermanence, translated for east and west: Flow | 流れ.

Opener “Dusk Decorum | 黄昏 礼節” maps the mood of what’s to come, elegantly pirouetting and percolating through an expanding vista of looming stars and half-light horizons. Takahashi describes Edren’s arrangements as evoking “a strange feel, something we haven't heard much of before.” The sensation is one of “in-betweenness,” a restless current whispering beneath the beauty, like seasons seen in time-lapse footage: flickering but infinite, transience turned permanent. Takahashi’s signature sculpture garden tones plot spiral patterns over which Edren cascades dazzling pointillist synthesizer coloration. The pieces veer between delicate and dilated, micro and macro, their aperture forever softly in flux.

From the oscillating orchestral lullaby of “Stalactime | 鍾乳石時計” to the sweeping, sparkling dream sequence closer, “Shift Register | シフトレジスタ,” the album achieves the elusive goal of being more than the sum of its parts. This is music of rare air, elevated and amorphous, shimmering just out of reach. Though Edren and Takahashi have yet to cohabitate the same room in person (a fact that should be rectified soon by an astute festival booker), their palettes and poise are perfectly paired, twin fragilities woven into seven radiant and regenerative vibrational states. The cover design of a beatific, beaded leaf rippling on the surface of a hidden pond aptly captures the record’s muted majesty. Takahashi’s quiet pride is justified: “We are very happy with this time-consuming and carefully crafted work.”

In the evolving landscape of modern Southern hip-hop, the pairing of Starlito and Bandplay stands out as a unique bridge between street-level authenticity and refined, calculated musicality. Their collaborative project, Not The Country You Know, functions less like a standard release and more as a manifesto—a masterclass in the chemistry between a seasoned, introspective lyricist and a producer who possesses an intuitive grasp of the region's pulse. It is an exploration of legacy and adaptation, capturing the tension between where they came from and where the culture is currently headed.

Bandplay, long recognized for sculpting the sonic identity of Memphis icons, brings his signature, trunk-rattling 808s to the project, yet he manages to pivot here. The production feels remarkably expansive, masterfully blending the raw, stripped-back aesthetics of classic Tennessee rap with forward-thinking textures that refuse to be confined to a single sub-genre. Complementing this, Starlito operates with his trademark mix of cynical observation and genuine vulnerability. He navigates these beats with the weary grace of an artist who has weathered the music industry's relentless cycles, treating every bar like a necessary piece of a larger, ongoing story.

The album’s title serves as a direct commentary on these shifting tides. Across the tracklist, the duo investigates the growing disparity between the romanticized South and the cold realities of the streets, alongside the inevitable evolution of the music business itself. There is no frantic chasing of streaming-era trends or algorithmic bait here; instead, the project remains a stubborn, confident assertion of artistic identity. By weaving together Starlito’s "voice-of-reason" flow and Bandplay’s evolving, genre-bending sound, Not The Country You Know challenges the listener to abandon their preconceived notions of the region, offering instead a complex, urgent vision of a South that is as haunting as it is vibrant.

Mike Shannon drops the ‘Off World Synthetics’ EP on Rekids. The Cynosure label boss follows up his ‘Shadow Moves’ EP on sister imprint RSPX on January 16th, 2026

Canadian DJ and producer Mike Shannon kicks off the year on Radio Slave’s Rekids with the ‘Off World Synthetics’ EP, landing 16th January 2026 and marking his first appearance on the label since 2023’s ‘Shadow Moves’ for sub-label RSPX. A long-standing force in Minimal and House with a discography stretching two decades, collaborations on Richie Hawtin’s Plus 8, and his own Cynosure and Haunt Recordings labels, Shannon has carved out a reputation as a respected staple in the booth and the studio.

Inspired by Alejandro Jodorowsky and Möbius’ INCAL graphic novels, Mike Shannon’s ‘Off World Synthetics’ EP opens with ‘Synthetic Salsateca’, where a static groove drives a playful, squelching synthline. ‘Back To The Hood’ follows with rattling, mechanical energy before the fl ip reveals ‘Off World Sparkle’, its wonky sequences bending around rubbery low-end. Closing cut ‘Only Noodles’ pushes deeper into warped clicks, scratches, and subtly shifting textures, rounding off an EP that’s raw, restrained, and devastating in the right hands and on the right system.