quête:beneath

Rhiza Semar presents its fourth chapter with Yildizlara, a four-track odyssey shaped from shadow, rhythm, and elemental texture. Crafted as both visceral tools and introspective journeys, the record navigates between ominous density and luminous release, guided by a deep awareness of space, myth, and matter. As an artist, Hitam paves the way for a new sound emerging from his burrows to build bridges between electronic subgenres while shaping a landscape unmistakably his own. Orb Weaver opens the cycle with jagged IDM rhythms that coil and release like threads of a web pulled taut. Originally composed for the graduation project of fashion designer Tim van der Plas, who's collection was inspired on climbing out of depression, its atmosphere is dark and ceremonial, with textures scraping against silence until catharsis emerges from the tension. A confrontation between inner turmoil and release. On Vanishing of the Anasazi, cavernous reverbs carry traces of lost structures, percussion echoing as if across ruins. A relentless drive holds the ghost of ritual processions, summoning a spectral energy that feels at once monumental and hollowed-out. The track suspends itself between presence and absence, architecture and collapse, leaving the listener in a space where echoes become the only surviving form of memory. Mesh Grip plunges downward into subterranean force. A thundering groove rumbles like minerals being unearthed, goblin-like figures at work in hidden shafts, chiseling away at stone in endless rhythm. From this pressure, a sudden swell of melancholy pads rises, reframing the heaviness with emotional resonance as if the whispers of angelic guardians seep into the caverns, transforming extraction into elegy. What begins as pure drive of endurance evolves into an introspective meditation. Closing the release, Yildizlara unfolds as an epic ascent. Layered rhythms rush forward with urgency, intricate yet propulsive, while chopped vocals bring back a sensual human element, scattering like signals across the night sky. Animalistic atmospheres dart through the mix as spectral cries and furtive movements, adding a primal dimension to the drive. What begins as erratic and untamed slowly converges into warmth and ultimate catharsis: a cosmic tale inscribed in sound, both intimate and monumental, familiar yet born of hidden memory. Yildizlara is both innovative and ancestral; a release where turbulence becomes ritual, and where rhythmic complexity unearths fragments of hidden memory. Beneath its dark and erratic surfaces lies a strange familiarity, like echoes of a primal past resurfacing through sound, reminding us of worlds once known but long concealed. Words by A. Veyra

Força Maior combines the vital saxophone explorations of Pedro Alves Sousa with the infinitely subtle electronic processing of Pedro Tavares. Sousa (aka Má Estrela) is known for manipulating his woodwind through guitar pedalboards & amplifiers, creating far-from-ordinary sonics rooted in unceasing curiosity. For his part, Tavares (aka funcionário) conjoins video & sound work to create space for the pensive wanderings where memory and imagination interlace.

The album Morte Lilás was recorded over a week in June 2023 in Pedro Alves Sousa's family farm, located in the village of Ferreirim, near Lamego, in Portugal. The partly abandoned farm served as the residency, studio, and inspiration for the album: it is a 400-year-old granite farm that belonged to a member of the "40 conspirators"—a group that led the revolution for Portugal's independence from Spain in the 17th century.

Morte Lilás is a remarkable album of committed meditation. Each day on the farm was a recording day for the two Pedros: Sousa on sax & electronics, Tavares on sampler & processing. Apart from slight sonic incursions from the surrounds—the birds on 'Quinta à tarde'—and the sporadic use of sine tones, the source sounds all start from the saxophone. It is then processed both by Sousa & Tavares. The album unfolds as a saxophonic tapestry that breathes with quiet intensity. Each piece invites close listening, revealing fine gestures and tonal shifts that shape a contemplative, ambient space. Força Maior move with calm precision.

The album opens with the unhurried overture 'Quinta à Tarde' a Portuguese pun on Eno's Thursday Afternoon that announces the textures at play. Sousa's breathy entrance is paired with a soft, delicately shifting, backdrop. As the track progresses, time seems to stretch. The arrangement resists urgency, favouring subtle evolution over dramatic turns. Pensive layers shift & drift, creating a sense of suspended motion that brings the listener into the environs of Morte Lilás. 'Quinta à Tarde' is a long-form fade, shifting emphasis from Sousa to Tavares.

'Cubos' continues the gauzy feel, but with a more up-tempo tilt. Rhythmic clicks & pings setup a swung time for the sax to interpose melodic lines that are fed back & bent with cascading delays. Força Maior in distilled form.

Força Maior is in top form on the title track 'Morte Lilás', a sprawling centrepiece that showcases their command of atmosphere & emotional pacing. By turning up the reverberation & leaning into a continuous format, they dissolve the gap between hypnotic trance & articulate reverie. Then, a moment of stillness. The track pauses, not abruptly but like a tide pulling back, revealing the contours beneath. What follows is a return to the album's more relaxed architecture: understated rhythms, softened textures, and a sense of spaciousness that opens space for reflection. It is a transition that feels organic, as if the song itself needed to exhale before settling back into its contemplative groove.

'Menta' is another short-form miniature of the band's signature contours: beautiful loops of air pressure gradients that carry an emotive weight & light.

The album closes with 'Cascata do Inferno'. The title suggests violence, but the music whispers instead—an atmospheric cascade of breath & tone that emerges in slow, deliberate waves. Short melodic cycles are matched by shimmering electronic chords. It's a piece that rewards patience, draws the listener in to drift downstream, eyes closed, into the serene turbulence of its current.

Predatory Void returns with their third record, an EP titled `Atoned in Metamorphosis`, a concentrated statement of intent that compresses the band's restless energy into four precise movements. The music negotiates extremes: patient, reverb-saturated passages give way to sudden, metallic eruptions; subterranean basslines provide narrative weight beneath volatile guitar textures, vocals growl, wail and lament as drums alternate between measured architecture and volcanic release. The result is an austere, immersive sound that is both incandescent and violently sharp. Conceptually the EP takes on the ugly shadow of the unconscious and cathartically wrestles the demon onto canvas. Calling on elements from sludge, doom and black metal, as well as the unrelenting energies of hardcore and contrasting slower, haunted atmospheres, Predatory Void's signature sound is as volatile and piercing as ever. Concise, tight compositions that hook you in melody and then rage in filthy agony. The music can be confrontational, but it is never gratuitous_force is deployed to clarify rather than to overwhelm as emotional depth is at all times the compass. The production aesthetic prioritises fidelity to performance: takes are preserved for their immediacy, dynamics remain uncompromised, and the mix privileges contrast so that quiet moments carry as much dramaturgical weight as full-band climaxes. `Atoned in Metamorphosis` consolidates Predatory Void's forward motion and stakes a claim for a sound that prizes architectural heft and textural nuance in equal measure. Listeners should expect an immediate physical response in what is undeniably an ardent expression, and enjoy the reward of cumulative detail, for the EP dares you to listen closely: to feel transitions as processes, and to accept tension as a pathway to release. Predatory Void invites engagement, not escape, and demands to be met on its own terms, boldly. RIYL Hexis * CELESTE * Wallowing * LLNN * Downfall of Gaia * Witching

Predatory Void returns with their third record, an EP titled `Atoned in Metamorphosis`, a concentrated statement of intent that compresses the band's restless energy into four precise movements. The music negotiates extremes: patient, reverb-saturated passages give way to sudden, metallic eruptions; subterranean basslines provide narrative weight beneath volatile guitar textures, vocals growl, wail and lament as drums alternate between measured architecture and volcanic release. The result is an austere, immersive sound that is both incandescent and violently sharp. Conceptually the EP takes on the ugly shadow of the unconscious and cathartically wrestles the demon onto canvas. Calling on elements from sludge, doom and black metal, as well as the unrelenting energies of hardcore and contrasting slower, haunted atmospheres, Predatory Void's signature sound is as volatile and piercing as ever. Concise, tight compositions that hook you in melody and then rage in filthy agony. The music can be confrontational, but it is never gratuitous_force is deployed to clarify rather than to overwhelm as emotional depth is at all times the compass. The production aesthetic prioritises fidelity to performance: takes are preserved for their immediacy, dynamics remain uncompromised, and the mix privileges contrast so that quiet moments carry as much dramaturgical weight as full-band climaxes. `Atoned in Metamorphosis` consolidates Predatory Void's forward motion and stakes a claim for a sound that prizes architectural heft and textural nuance in equal measure. Listeners should expect an immediate physical response in what is undeniably an ardent expression, and enjoy the reward of cumulative detail, for the EP dares you to listen closely: to feel transitions as processes, and to accept tension as a pathway to release. Predatory Void invites engagement, not escape, and demands to be met on its own terms, boldly. RIYL Hexis * CELESTE * Wallowing * LLNN * Downfall of Gaia * Witching

Islaja presents her new album ”Angel Tape”, her debut release on the new Helsinki-based label Other Power. Drawing inspiration from childhood epiphanies while listening to an alleged recording of angels singing, Islaja has crafted an album that stands out as a major work in her expansive and celebrated catalogue, which includes previous releases on labels such as Ecstatic Peace!, Fonal and Svart.


Islaja, aka Finnish artist Merja Kokkonen, describes her new album as a “counterwork” to her most recent albums, where the mode of composing was more song-based. This time around, she goes more in the direction of vast fields of sound where the human voice is a key ingredient of music that breaks free of strict stylistic guidelines and traditional song forms. Rough around the edges, atonal and otherworldly, "Angel Tape” is the result of a lifetime of inspiration from something beyond the immediate realm of our experience, an attempt to catch the elusive essence of musical otherness.


”As a child, I listened to the ’angel tape’ my mother played, and I never thought that the human voices I heard on it were angels singing. Instead, all the aural debris lying just beneath the surface caught my attention as I thought it was mysterious and something from a different world than ours, and so that was probably what was referred to as the ’angels’ so miraculously caught on tape”, Kokkonen explains. ”I think this was one thing that led me on this lifelong quest to find new sounds and forms in music.”



The tape she is referring to, a mid-80s church recording, was passed around in religious circles. Each time the tape was copied, it became slightly more distorted. It was believed that this recording of religious music had accidentally captured for the first time the voices of actual angels singing. The tape was rumoured to have originated in Kansas City and to have made its way to Finland.


Whereas Islaja has often thought of albums as being collections of recent songs presented together, ”Angel Tape” has a strong sense of conceptual coherence. The music comes from a place. That doesn’t mean that one must take a single path from one place to the next, as close listenings of the album reveal layers upon layers of not only sound but also of mood and meaning. From the human voice in its barest form, to the rising dense walls of sound moving and reshaping, ”Angel Tape” is a captivating album that unveils new contours with each repeated listening.

Bless the Maker: the Great Houses of Laced Records and Funcom have forged a temporary trade agreement to bring you the expansive soundtrack for ‘Dune: Awakening’ on vinyl.  The hit survival game has garnered critical praise for its incredibly faithful and detailed realisation of the Dune universe - from its sprawling vistas to deep lore and political intrigue. The music is integral in recreating the atmosphere of Arrakis, conjuring not only its striking landscapes but the human experience of life on the planet.  Recorded live at Air Studios in London with The Chamber Orchestra of London, Knut Avenstroup Haugen’s soundtrack conjures a planetary sense of scale.

Arcing strings shimmer and twist weightless in the air like heat rising from the desert floor, while resonant brass evokes dawn stretching out across the sands.  The luscious acoustic instrumentation is enhanced and elevated by rippling electronics, capturing Dune's singular blend of science fiction and spiritual tradition.  Soaring vocal performances from Clara Sorace, Eurielle and Emília Rovira Alegre centre this sense of the sacred, pushing the soundtrack to ecstatic emotional peaks.  Black heavyweight double vinyl.  24 tracks from the acclaimed 2025 survival game.  Widespined outer sleeve  Printed, spined inner sleeves.  Bespoke sleeve artwork by Funcom.

Noctourniquet And then everything went black, at least for a while, at least for The Mars Volta. In the months and years following their fifth full-length, Octahedron, Omar kept on at his usual fearsome creative pace. In fact, he ramped up his output considerably, starting up his own Rodriguez Lopez Productions label and releasing a slew of solo albums. It was a practice he’d begun shortly after De-Loused’s release, with his solo debut A Manual Dexterity: Soundtrack Volume One, but as the decade reached its close, Omar grew to rely upon his solo recordings as an outlet for his prolific creativity, these albums often exploring musical pastures far beyond even The Mars Volta’s wide-ranging parameters. Before choosing to release music under his own name, Omar would always play it to Cedric first, to see if the frontman thought it had potential to become Mars Volta music. Shortly after Octahedron’s completion, Cedric flagged one batch of tracks Omar had cut with Deantoni Parks, a brilliant drummer and composer who’d briefly occupied the Mars Volta drumstool in-between Jon Theodore and Thomas Pridgen’s tenures, and whose volcanic creativity and unique, unpredictable approach to rhythm and composition had quickly made him one of Omar’s favourite artistic foils.

As with the music that made up Octahedron, the new tracks Cedric had optioned for The Mars Volta often veered far from the riotous, Grand Guignol visions of their earlier releases. It possessed the punchy, song-based focus of Octahedron, though this was a considerably darker, more menacing strain of pop, with synthesisers figuring heavily in the productions. Cedric took the tracks in 2009 and set about writing songs to the music. But no more new Mars Volta music would be heard until 2012. The years that passed in-between were nonetheless momentous, and busy, witnessing an unexpected reunion of the members of At The Drive-In, and Cedric joining his own side-project, Anywhere. But there wasn’t any sign of life within the Mars Volta until Omar, Cedric and their bandmates took to the road for a series of live shows in the spring of 2011, billed as The Omar Rodriguez-Lopez Group, debuting the songs that would become Noctourniquet. The album followed the next year, and it remains one of The Mars Volta’s finest, its electronic textures staking out unfamiliar but fertile new ground.

An unsettling, subtly turbulent listen, Noctourniquet found Cedric sketching out a story about “some sort of device that stops the darkness from bleeding”, drawing influence variously from the nursery rhyme Solomon Grundy, the Greek myth of Hyacinthus and the song Birth, School, Work, Death by British underground rockers The Godfathers. It was an album of dystopian futurism, signalled by the paranoid cyber-rock of opener The Whip Hand and its unnerving chorus, “That’s when I disconnect from you”. But it was also an album of inspired, unexpected moves and uncanny invention, like how Dyslexicon seemed to eerily evoke Blondie’s Rapture, before rushing headlong into its bruising chorus, tempos shifting restlessly throughout like quaking earth beneath the listener’s feet, or how Aegis put a brave new spin on The Mars Volta’s trademark rewiring of salsa’s overdriven passions, or how Cedric had never sounded as scary as he did on The Malkin Jewel’s mutant burlesque shuffle. Tracks like Molochwalker were sleek and concise in a way The Mars Volta had never really attempted before – which was all part of Omar’s plan.

“It had all been guitar, guitar, guitar, overdubs, everything fighting for space in the same frequency,” he explains. “So for Noctourniquet, it was all about subtracting elements, of sticking to how I made demos.” Deantoni’s presence helped revivify the group, playing against cliché and expectation, and taking each song in unexpected directions. “I’d beatbox a rhythm for him to play, to go with my guitar part, and he’d come back with three or four alternate options. It was so great.” Similarly, Cedric had never sung better than on Noctourniquet, staking out a fearsome spectrum from the chilling Tom Waitsian growl of The Malkin Jewel to the keening, beautiful vocalisation on Vedamalady, rising to match some of Omar’s most deft, most immediately effective and melodic songs yet. Indeed, Noctourniquet is the sound of a band discovering new ways to do familiar things, renewing their commitment to their mission, finding fresh inspiration a decade in, and shaking off any complacency that might have come with ten years of acclaim and success.

Ailise Blake explains the deep, personal meaning behind the album's title, "Soave": "I titled this album "Soave" not only because of the sound of the word itself, which to my ears sounds like the wind, but because for me, soave is what we perceive silently beneath the action of everyday life, that veil of calm and stillness found when we stop to listen to ourselves; it represents the light and the tenderness, yet it is still and untouchable, it is alchemical, it is transcendental, it gives a sense of peace completely subjective to the mind that perceives it."

A chopped-and-screwed love letter to the sounds of rebajada – half-speed cumbia, pioneered by Sonido Dueñez in the 1990s, and born from an overheated turntable motor that didn’t make the crowd stop dancing. With Debit’s treatment, rebajada becomes an ethereal, at times intense ambient tapestry that’s also a history lesson.

Spend any amount of time pacing the streets of Monterrey, the bustling city in the north of Mexico where Delia Beatriz, aka Debit, grew up, and you’ll be sure to catch traces of cumbia echoing from Bluetooth speakers, DIY soundsystems, or car stereos. An Afro-Latin dance form and »practica cultural« originating in Colombia in the early 19th century, cumbia evolved rapidly in the early 1900s, as a localised sound played on drums and flutes quickly modernised to integrate European instrumentation like the accordion. When it reached Mexico in the 1940s, the sound shifted again, fusing with mariachi styles and integrating further vallenato folk elements. Eventually, cumbia spread across the entirety of Latin America, splintering into a spectrum of different musical styles such as chicha in Peru, and cumbia villera in Argentina. And over in Monterrey, cumbia inadvertently found its own idiosyncratic groove.

From the 1950s to the 1970s, waves of immigrants from across Mexico and Latin America headed to Monterrey to find work, making a home in Colonia Independencia. Colombian cumbia records, shipped in from Mexico City, Houston, and Miami, became the soundtrack of the neighbourhood, relaying familiar stories to a rural working class adjusting to their new industrial reality. The sound struck a chord with locals, and huge street parties hosted by ramshackle soundsystems known as sonideros unified the diverse community. So when cumbia rebajada materialised serendipitously in the 1990s, it emphasised and highlighted the memory distortions at the heart of the immigrant experience. Local record collector, selector, and sonidero Gabriel Dueñez had been playing cumbia for hours one night when disaster struck: his turntable’s motor overheated and slowed down, turning the music into a warped groan, with half-speed voices echoing over wobbly accordion drones and splashy drums. But the crowd kept dancing, and Sonido Dueñez realised he’d struck gold – cumbia rebajada was born.

Over the next few years, he dubbed a popular series of mixtapes, hawking them at the flea market on the dried-up Santa Catarina riverbed beneath El Puente del Papa, the bridge that links downtown Monterrey with Independencia. These woozy archives became the stuff of legend, poetically but subconsciously shadowing DJ Screw’s series of epochal cassettes that appeared over the border in Houston. Beatriz uses Sonido Dueñez’s first two tapes as the starting point for »Desaceleradas«, entering into a dialogue with time, culture, and geography as she recalls the sonic ecosystem that surrounded her decades ago, long before she emigrated to the USA. If 2022’s acclaimed »The Long Count« was an attempt to recover concealed pre-Columbian history in the face of colonisation, »Desaceleradas« jumps forward, figuring out how memory and shared celebration can resist a more contemporary form of cultural erasure. As AI systems scrape, blend, and decontextualise culture around us, leaving vapid slop, »Desaceleradas« proposes a slower, more careful, and ultimately more human kind of engagement. It’s an archive with a pulse.

Multidisciplinary Brussels-based artist Sagat steps up with a new mini album on the Basic Moves side label, Gems Under The Horizon, featuring a remix by Slovenian ambient bird e/tape. A few years ago, Wiet Lengeler, aka Sagat was invited by Basic Moves to create a live visual show using an analogue video synth setup to accompany a 5-hour dj set by e/tape at Face B in Brussels. From that moment on, the synchronicity between the two artists was clear - and this EP is the result.
Besides his visual work, Wiet Lengeler is also known for his contemporary techno music, primarily released on Brussels’ cult label Vlek Recordings. For this mini-album, Gems Under The Horizon 003, he presents four grainy ambient and textured electro-acoustic explorations. The tracks unfold organically — like ivy — gradually revealing layers of sound and hidden textures beneath babbling streams of electronics. e/tape’s remix feels like a natural continuation of Sagat’s sonic universe, together forming a mesmerising whole that explores the fringes of ambient music. In addition to the release, a limited run of the release + 30 x 3 riso printed posters from the visual show at Face B, made by Sagat and hand numbered are made available.
Mastering and lacquer cut was done by Frederic Alstadt at Angstrom Mastering. Artwork & inserts are designed by renowned Ghent-based visual artist Dieter Durinck.

Sit back and enjoy the wonderful aural world of Sagat and e/tape.

Sincerely,

The Basic Moves team.

“There's a clarity here that feels hard-won. Honing ideas first explored with his Organic Music series, Tiago Sousa unlocks the final puzzle pieces on Sustained Tones Vol 1. This music is enchanted, the way each layer moves in conjunction with the others: complex structures that feel less constructed than discovered, like stumbling upon ancient mechanisms still whirring beneath the earth. "Readily Reliance" opens as an effervescent sea, waves gilded in neon creating an enveloping sense of eternal motion. Bright organ timbres throw silhouettes and cast Sousa as the deft puppeteer keeping everything moving with an effortless precision. These evolving shapes suspend listeners somewhere between the physical and the cosmic, held in place by nothing but intention and sound.

Drones build rippling foundations in other places, using slower tempos to construct immersive, off-kilter sound worlds where minimalism becomes emotive, almost poignant. The fluctuating tones have a gossamer sheen, creating this interesting sonic dichotomy: a solid surface with fragile rotations beneath. It's music that commands attention; it is so much more than simply aural furniture. Sousa writes these beautiful sequences that are all interconnected, intricate sonic architecture that pulls us further into some kind of unknowable ether.

On the piano pieces, "Smooth Flow Into It" and "Swirling Mist and Thin Dust," Sousa shines sunlight through all the cracks. Washes of melody are effervescent, clouds clearing to reveal the day has not gone. Not yet. Positioned in the middle of Sustained Tones Vol 1, these pieces ground the album in something transcendent yet still earthen: moments of breath inside all that cosmic drift. Darkness finds its way through on "Restlessness," where Sousa smears sinuous electronics into a ghostly sonic mesh that seeps through the skin. It feels like a slow inhale, time suspended long enough to take note of where we are and how we feel before moving forward. Expressive, almost sparkling synth arrangements return to send us back into reality on closer "Becoming a Landscape." Its title hints at larger concepts at play throughout this album, where lines between our physical beings and the wider environment are blurred. The tones that echo throughout these six pieces mirror the echoes inside our bodies, from heartbeats and voices to something quieter, something much smaller and more elemental. By immersing us inside these mesmerising, beautiful soundscapes, Sousa immerses us within ourselves.’’

Brad Rose, 2025

Over the past year, No Drama, the label founded by Roy Rosenfeld, has established itself as a space for creative independence and artistic authenticity. Known for his refined fusion of house, techno, and downtempo, Rosenfeld channels the same principles into his imprint, prioritizing artistic freedom, emotional resonance, and sonic exploration.

The label's fourth release, No Drama V.2, delivers a cohesive four-track EP spanning over twenty-six minutes of forward-thinking electronic music.

Opening with Dubi, Rosenfeld crafts a composition built on contrasts and playful percussion set against a wistful melodic backdrop. Over nearly seven minutes, the track unfolds gradually, expanding into a hypnotic crescendo that captures both dance floorintensity and introspective depth.

Next comes Coral by Dulus, a Colombian-born artist, based in Santiago, Dominican Republic. With roots in guitar and vocal performance, his understanding of musical structure permeates the composition. Layers of subtle vocal textures, resonant basslines, and scattered sonic details create a sense of depth and movement. The track's hypnotic progression rewards close listening, revealing intricate nuances beneath its steady groove.

The third track, Pink Hearts, by Sydney-based producer Luka Sambe, draws from his experience in Australia's festival scene. Sambe blends melodic house structures with acid-tinged flourishes and offbeat sonic details. Each element lands with intent, building an infectious energy that feels effortless yet deeply crafted.

Closing the release is Oscar Wave by Darco, a rising artist celebrated for his immersive live performances that blend electronic textureswith organic instrumentation. The track channels early trance influences and Middle Eastern tonalities into an uplifting, psychedelic journey. Its central section bursts into a wave of euphoric release, bringing a fitting conclusion to a compilation that celebrates both diversity and unity in sound.

No Drama V.2 stands as a testament to Rosenfeld's curatorial vision and sincerity. Each track resonates with purpose, offering a glimpse into a global community of artists united by their shared pursuit of creation.

With Born From Chaos, DYMYTRY PARADOX make it clear: they are ready to claim their place among the leading forces of modern metal. Each of the nine tracks is a powerful statement on power, pride, and the destructive cycles that continue to shape our world. From driving anthems like “Red Sky Remains” and “War Beneath My Skin”, to the explosive single “Sun of a Broken God”, and epic moments like “Overmind”, the album combines crushing riffs, haunting vocals, and relentless intensity that immediately grabs the listener. DYMYTRY PARADOX demonstrate with every song their ambition to push boundaries and make a lasting mark on the scene. Born From Chaos is more than an album – it’s a declaration, a warning, and a statement: the time of DYMYTRY PARADOX has begun.

The Lower Angel Band are a British folk-rock band formed in Warrington, Cheshire in 2025.

The band blend folk rock and pop, weaving in traditional instruments and warm keyboard textures beneath a rich, blues-inflected female vocal from front-woman, Vicky Williams. Their style is marked by memorable melodies and lyrics that explore everyday life and spiritual growth through stories and reflections. Since forming earlier this year the band have been drawing crowds across Warrington and the surrounding area. Notable performances include 'The Narrowboat Sessions' and Newton Festival 2025. The Lower Angel Band also have support from Radio Warrington - having starred on their Country & Folk Show in October.

'All In' as a whole, is inspired by nature, endurance and reflection. Each song derives from personal experiences and discoveries - following both the physical and spiritual journeys taken along the way. This album celebrates the human experience of both the highs and the lows of life, 'All In' together.

Bonbon Vodou’s third album (Épopée métèque), created by Oriane Lacaille and JereM Boucris, follows the paths of exile with lush orchestration and lyrics in French, Creole, and Gascon.

The bonbon piment (a spicy Réunionese fritter) is deceptive. Beneath its harmless appearance lies a fiery kick that can jolt you into clarity. Bonbon Vodou operates the same way. While the duo's musical influences sway between the Indian Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea, a sharp edge cuts through the tenderness of their graceful songs, often carried by the rhythms of maloya. This contrast gives depth to their third album, Épopée métèque, which takes us on journeys of exile—both across land and sea.
Oriane Lacaille is the daughter of accordionist René Lacaille, a key figure in the revival of Réunionese music in the 1970s, who has lived in mainland France for five decades. JereM Boucris’s father, from a Tunisian Jewish family, was 14 when he arrived in France at the end of the colonial protectorate. Their lives are interwoven with these paternal exiles, which they continue to explore and unravel, alongside the broader, universal stories of migrants fleeing poverty, persecution, and war.
The duo is now joined by a vibrant trio—Piment Piment (Juliette Minvielle, Roland Seilhes, and Yann-Lou Bertrand)—bringing a rich orchestration featuring guitars, flutes, brass, roulèr, kayamb, jaw harp… all set to lyrics in French, Creole, and Gascon. Their voices are joined by numerous guests, including Mouss and Hakim, Rosemary Standley, and Bernard Lavilliers. This playful yet poignant album explores themes of life and death—radiant but aware—seemingly echoing Camus: “There is no sun without shadow, and one must know the night.”

Samurai Music heralds a new seam of spacious, rhythmically curious exploration with the launch of the Saibai sub label, opened in mesmerising fashion by Brendon Moeller.

The overarching premise of Saibai is to nurture a more delicate, meditative inversion of Samurai's physical, dense sound, leaning less on the dynamics of the dancefloor while holding true to the intricate drum play and dubby principles that bind the label's sound together.

In this open-eared, inquisitive environment, Moeller is the perfect fit as an artist with decades of diverse offerings across all kinds of dubwise manifestations. On SAIBAI1, the US-based, South Africa-born producer stretches out with a live-sounding drum palette and exquisitely rendered synth work loaded with detail, character and organic flourishes. It's a light-footed approach with plenty of air flowing through the mix, but there's considerable weight in every notch of the production, not least the imposing channels of sub bass coursing beneath the frequency range.

SAIBAI1 is a feast for the senses, wholly immediate and front-loaded with fascination, setting the perfect tone for Saibai as a platform for charming, immersive electronics that take a fresh diversion from the fundamental core of Samurai's sharply defined sonic focus.

Gold/schwarzes Marble-Vinyl. Die PORT SULPHUR BAND, die im Schlamm des Lawson Delta Bayou gegründet wurde, bewegt sich zwischen Fiktion und Realität. Die PORT SULPHUR BAND ist sowohl ein Meta-Element des Videospiels Hunt: Showdown 1896 als auch eine hauseigene Band der Spieleentwickler von Crytek. Sie wurde gegründet, um Geschichten aus der Welt von Hunt zu erzählen, einem übernatürlichen Shooter, der in den Anfängen des Blues und Jazz im Louisiana der 1890er Jahre spielt. Das neue Album ,Shadows Wake" der Band wird mit 20 neuen düsteren Western-Songs aus der Welt von Hunt: Showdown 1896 alle bisherigen Alben übertreffen. Jeder Song erzählt eine Geschichte aus dieser rauen Westernwelt, in der Verrat, Brutalität, Draufgängertum und Verzweiflung das Leben derer prägen, die es wagen, sich der sich ausbreitenden Korruption zu stellen und gegen die von ihr erschaffenen Monster zu kämpfen.In ,Web of the Empress" hört man die Geschichte einer Frau, die lebendig begraben wurde, nur um von Hunderten von verdorbenen Spinnen wieder zum Leben erweckt zu werden. In ,Beneath the Apple Tree" sinniert ein Mann über seine eigene Verzweiflung, während er seine unschuldigen Träume gegen eine Waffe und ein Grab eintauscht. Und in ,Curtain Call" laden verstörte Zirkusclowns den Zuhörer ein, ihnen in die Dunkelheit ihres eigenen Wahnsinns und ihrer Korruption zu folgen.,Shadows Wake" ist das vierte Album und die dritte Vinyl-Veröffentlichung von PORT SULPHUR BAND.

Emerging through waves of reverberation and haze, ‘Deep Star’ unfolds as a submerged odyssey through Coma World’s distinct terrain of leftfield dub and psychedelia. The duo of Maxwell Hallett (Betamax) and Pete Bennie craft a sound that moves between meditative underwater drift and sharp, rhythmic pressure.

Each piece develops like a current, where bass resonance and percussive detail create an undertow of motion that guides the record’s flow. Beneath the murk, subtle shifts in tone and momentum reveal the album’s depth: flickers of tension and release that mirror the shifting light below the surface.

‘Deep Star’ captures Coma World at a point of lucid refinement, translating improvisation into form without losing its raw edge. Immersive and alive with motion, it’s a record that invites listening as descent—sound as gravity, pulling you deeper the longer you stay.

UK-based DJ and producer Wallace debuts on Phantasy Sound with an irresistible double A-side single, ‘Cravings (ft. Love Letters) / Concourse.’ Bubbling with sensuality and euphoria, both tracks reinforce Wallace’s burgeoning reputation as one of electronic music’s most impressive new voices, a crowning moment on Erol Alkan’s long-running label following a stellar run of singles for imprints including Cooking With Palms Trax, Rhythm Section, and Moxie's much-loved On Loop.

Led by a longing, inquisitive performance from vocalist and underground house music luminary, Love Letters, ‘Cravings’ builds from a simple throbbing bass line to an eruption of lyrical and musical joy. Exploring onset desire – risk, uncertainty, and ultimately, reward – Wallace’s deep and celebratory arrangement interweaves with Love Letters’ queer perspective to deliver universal satisfaction.

While ‘Cravings’ looks inward to find release, ‘Concourse’ goes for the jugular with a darker, more epic sensibility than Wallace has previously indulged. His flawless production touch seamlessly gifts magic to a widescreen techno epic that might not sound out of place on the terrace at Circoloco or else a field near early-nineties Frankfurt, repeatedly working his acid-oriented machines into a lather and conjuring cosmic drama from eerie, choral voices beneath a powerful groove.

Wild by nature, the Does of the Florian Pellissier Quintet could never be contained in a creative pen that would have forced them never to cross potential geographical limits. Travelers, spending their energy without restraint to let the hard bop of their jazz wander and export itself wherever the groove guided them, they went as far as Africa or South America, from the Cape of Good Hope to Rio. Rio, precisely where, for their last appearance, exposure to a brief electric current had carried them into outer space. A revelation.


Furious strides, exhausting gambols, the Does had done so much that they could not escape the obvious call of calm and serenity. Freed from distances, and after a stop in Colombia to mingle with the crowd at the Barranquilla carnival, it was California and its Pacific coast they reached, to rest before the peaceful immensity of the ocean.


One hundred sixty-five million square kilometers, an infinite expanse to contemplate in order to fling wide open the gates to an even vaster space. A spiritual domain conducive to the search for new sounds. That of the open sea, where measuring miles is neither relevant nor meaningful, and where the only compass becomes the musical tracks the Does follow.


Beneath their coppery hooves, to the crystalline sound of the Fender Rhodes and the sweep of electric layers, the path to take revealed itself in this meditative and abstract realm they had never before explored. Invited to join the purely organic textures, the synthetic notes distilled a few aromas of sweetness into an album of ten tracks, where the FPQ abandoned written scores on some pieces in order to be guided only by the inspiration born of a newfound freedom.


Blue when they began their journey five albums ago, their coat has now taken on the colors that illuminate the Pacific coast. That moment when, as you gaze at the horizon swallowing the sun, only glowing shades filter through—reddish, orange, violet.


Departing without haste or frenzy from one of the shores bordering the ocean, the voices of Archie Shepp, Iggy Pop, and DjeuhDjoah still resonating in their antlers, the Does may now be on the opposite shore. Carried all the way to the Japanese coast by Hokusai’s wave…

Dear Wormwood acts as a volume II to Through the Deep, Dark Valley. While Through the Deep, Dark Valley is about the protagonist's past, Dear Wormwood is about the character's future. The duo explains, "This album is a collection of letters, all written by a single protagonist and addressed to a single recipient, a conversation to which the listener is an observer as a relationship gone wrong reaches its breaking point - the words and music are at times affectionate and bittersweet, at others resigned and resolute."

Wild by nature, the Does of the Florian Pellissier Quintet could never be contained in a creative pen that would have forced them never to cross potential geographical limits. Travelers, spending their energy without restraint to let the hard bop of their jazz wander and export itself wherever the groove guided them, they went as far as Africa or South America, from the Cape of Good Hope to Rio. Rio, precisely where, for their last appearance, exposure to a brief electric current had carried them into outer space. A revelation.
Furious strides, exhausting gambols, the Does had done so much that they could not escape the obvious call of calm and serenity. Freed from distances, and after a stop in Colombia to mingle with the crowd at the Barranquilla carnival, it was California and its Pacific coast they reached, to rest before the peaceful immensity of the ocean.
One hundred sixty-five million square kilometers, an infinite expanse to contemplate in order to fling wide open the gates to an even vaster space. A spiritual domain conducive to the search for new sounds. That of the open sea, where measuring miles is neither relevant nor meaningful, and where the only compass becomes the musical tracks the Does follow.
Beneath their coppery hooves, to the crystalline sound of the Fender Rhodes and the sweep of electric layers, the path to take revealed itself in this meditative and abstract realm they had never before explored. Invited to join the purely organic textures, the synthetic notes distilled a few aromas of sweetness into an album of ten tracks, where the FPQ abandoned written scores on some pieces in order to be guided only by the inspiration born of a newfound freedom.
Blue when they began their journey five albums ago, their coat has now taken on the colors that illuminate the Pacific coast. That moment when, as you gaze at the horizon swallowing the sun, only glowing shades filter through—reddish, orange, violet.
Departing without haste or frenzy from one of the shores bordering the ocean, the voices of Archie Shepp, Iggy Pop, and DjeuhDjoah still resonating in their antlers, the Does may now be on the opposite shore. Carried all the way to the Japanese coast by Hokusai’s wave…

Master edit man Delfonic is back with more reworked gold from his favourites folder. He kicks off with the funky horns and disco lushness of 'Up & Down', then 'JaJaJa' slows things down and layers in some chunky drums to a cosmically-minded workout. 'Unity Together' is a percussive jumble with funky hooks and grooves that are always on the move and bubbling beneath the smooth vocals. Last but not least is 'Feeling It', which we really love. This one has a buttery male vocal adding weight to buoyant and instrumental disco grooves that dazzle with bright melodies and life-giving strings. A wonderfully uplifting EP.

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


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

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

Following three acclaimed albums, a string of sought-after 45s, and collaborations with vocalists including Yurika and Sophia Solompon, championed by esteemed tastemakers such as Gilles Peterson, Cerys Matthews, and Jeremy Sole, "Nadir" finds Sababa 5 at their enigmatic and irresistible. Sababa 5"s latest album, "Nadir", delves into a darker, more sophisticated, and cinematic fusion of psychedelic soul and Middle Eastern rock. The title, Nadir, is an astronomical term referring to the point on the celestial sphere directly beneath an observer, diametrically opposite the zenith. Metaphorically, it signifies the lowest point or a moment of adversity. This duality resonates with the band"s exploration of contrasting musical themes-melding the cosmic and the terrestrial, the ethereal and the grounded. The name encapsulates the album"s essence, reflecting a journey through deep, introspective soundscapes that are both otherworldly and rooted in raw, earthly grooves.

GATEFOLD DOUBLE VINYL WITH SPOT UV FRONT COVER

Following the skewed-unself-help-brilliance of ‘Sus Dog’ (which marked his first full foray into songs, abetted by Thom Yorke), and its companion piece ‘Cave Dog’, Chris Clark returns to the dancefloor’s simple, but no less affecting pleasures, with ‘Steep Stims’.
“I found it hard to pull away from listening to this record, hard to stop making it, I had to remove myself from the Stims and stop enjoying it at some point. The album feels like nature to me. I love it when electronic music feels more naturalistic than acoustic music, more potent, that’s the devil’s trick, the promise of electronic music.” comments Chris.
“I used an old synth - the Virus on all of the tracks. I used it at Mess in Melbourne - run by my friend Robin Fox - I loved it so much I had to buy one when I got back to the UK, it took a while to find. They’re a bit clunky to program but make some of my most favourite sounds.”
‘Steep Stims’ marks a back-to-basics approach, invoking the early years of gung-ho creativity enforced by limitations in technology at the time. “Most of the tracks on this album capture the spirit of making music on old samplers, which don’t have much memory time”, explains Clark. “It reminds me of making ‘Clarence Park’, my first album, where I would have to finish tunes in the session, as they would be saved on floppy disks and I couldn’t easily go between tracks. This new record is just a few synths and a few choice sounds; the writing is the important thing.”
Made quickly, ‘Steep Stims’ reflects the immediate rave energy of his live show, but that’s not to say it’s basic floor fodder, as it’s rife with personality, synth magic, and knack for melody. Although swift and impressionistically captured rather than laboured over, it’s still formidably deft, with plenty of oddball weirdness lurking beneath the dancefloor.
Soft, orange, scorched, brutal, the opening track ‘Gift and Wound’ captures the classic dance music dread / awe / euphoria combo perfectly, before ‘Infinite Roller’ merges sparkly-minimalism with snarling bass and soft sines, which turn more dense and metallic as it progresses.
The melancholic smoke belch of ‘No Pills U’ gives strong classic vibrations, which is belied by its creation, made in just 20 minutes. “I love working quickly sometimes”, comments Clark. “Inspiration hits, rough and ready. It’s off the cuff but also screams ‘don’t gild the lily with nonsense, keep it simple keep it clean’”. Segueing into its elder brother, the piece becomes bigger and beatier on ‘Janus Modal’, where it permutates for over 7 minutes of fluttering, beatific club majesty.
At ‘18EDO Bailiff’ you inexplicably find yourself at a clearing, things have suddenly got much quieter. You enter a decrepit and eerie old house, and as you move through its unsettling interior, you arrive at ‘Globecore Flats’. A real piano tuned to 18 notes per octave gives the pair of tracks a haunted, olde worlde feel, which promptly gets eaten by a huge tech step tearout monster, birthing a strange but exotic beast.
The white hot ‘Blowtorch Thimble’ is all hooktasm-rave-hyper-amen-energy, whilst acidic flute leaps around like Ian Anderson on pingers throughout the catchily simple jump-up lurch of ‘Civilians’.
“‘In Patient’s Day Out’ is like some sort of Morricone-does-kraut-rock-with-drum-machines, but that’s probably just in my head” says Clark. “I made several versions of this then went with the early mix but cranked through some choice outboard because it just had something.”
Drumless, yet still full of exhilarating-big-trance-drama, ‘Who Booed The Goose’ flashes by in stroboscopic fast forward, then ‘5 Millionth Cave Painting’ gives a palate cleanser, letting “the virus with its delicious broken, luxurious reverb have a moment”, before ‘Negation Loop’ swoops down in all its glory, with Clark’s tweaked vocals leading deconstructed trance breakdowns, tape edits and brutal noisebursts.
An antidote to the bombast of its predecessor is ‘Micro Lyf’, which closes the set on a poignant note, of sorts. Muted staccato gives way to field recordings “that gradually put it in this outside space; alien in a meadow somewhere nameless. It feels like a sinkhole. The record kinda swallows itself up and then is gone”, ends Chris.

One Instrument welcomes Morning Seance, composer and sound artist, originally from Italy and based in Vienna. On this debut LP, Morning Seance traces a drifting narrative composed of unstable harmonies, fluid structures, and ghostlike forms. The album unfolds like a dream told in fragments, oscillating between fluctuating pulses and decaying transmissions, from nocturnal stillness to acoustic mirages. The first half of the record moves through zones of suspended tension and evanescent contours, where tracks like “Be faster than your own depression” and “The tenderness of our own autobiography” sketch fragile architectures of affect. The second half enters a more spectral terrain — “Breakfast in a night club,” “A visit to the Brion-Vega tomb” — not places, but agglomerates of sonic sensation, detached from any personal frame.

With each piece, the music dissolves and reconstitutes itself, resisting finality or form, and doing so with an indestructible joy that hums beneath the wreckage. This is degenerate ambient music: anti-geometric and subject to emotional weather — not a refuge, but a slow collapse of structure and purity, where atmosphere gives way to excess and disobedience.

The album is crafted entirely from a single source: the Roland Alpha Juno-1. Despite this constraint, it achieves a vast sound spectrum, transforming one synthesizer’s voice into a layered landscape of textures and moods.

The electronic music of Morning Seance is built on constant variation and intricate, looping patterns with no clear beginning or end. This variation is not simply applied to an audio element, but enacted as a compositional logic — avoiding mechanical combinations and obvious rhythms. The result is a mutable mass of audio matter and tonal debris, guiding the listener through richly divergent environments.

On Beacon Hill: at twilight we find Anthony Moore, roots winding backwards to the halcyon days of Slapp Happy and the "70s progressive art rock scene, at guitar and piano. With the atmospheres and accompaniments of AKA & Friends, he breathes infernal new life into songs from his six decades of multivarious music making. This new delivery system is unto a séance, a communal incantation, twining Anthony"s avant and pop traditions together in a darkly radiant coil of folky chamber music; a rope to lower the listener through cobwebs and murk, unveiling new life beneath Anthony"s mad old lines. AKA are Anthony Moore, Keith Rodway and Amanda Thompson. A pagan family of sound worshipers hailing from that unholiest of all places: Hastings UK, home of Crowley and Turing. Like their sinister forbears in that infamous tradition, this latest trinity shares a passion for subverting pattern and number, factoring unlikely permutations arising from sea and horizon, greensward, the southerly aspect, and the planisphere as half-world. Their equatorial shore speaks of a planet of water and earth, fire and air. AKA"s humble tools of choice for this endeavor are guitar, piano, organ, synthesizer and vocals. The Friends of AKA are Tullis Rennie, trombone and electronics; Olie Brice, double bass; Richard Moore, violin; and Haydn Ackerley, guitar. They too navigate the shoreline of the south coast, haunt the same taverns and regularly play together in whatever combinations fit the bill. Leaving the drums (and their drummer) at home to realize anew these dreamladen songs, AKA & Friends ensure that the notes fall around the beat and not on it, so as to define the pulse with absence. As such, time is liberated, prised free from the merciless clock; a rhythm of waves, passing through a steady-state universe of no beginnings and no endings. Discontinuities are dissolved, all is transition.

Leviathan Whispers is an album of longings, laments, deliriums and drones, savage and sublime. Within are breaths, hums and bone songs for shadows and fl ames to dance to. Tim Hill is an inspirational fi gure within the UK arts, jazz, noise and improv world. A shapeshifting maverick exploring Britain's diverse musical traditions, from rough music to industrial folk, free jazz to dub, post-punk to avant-rock, incorporating ambient electronics, hymns and noise. Having worked with pioneering arts company Welfare State International, Tim’s performed inside Stonehenge, on the back of trucks at Notting Hill Carnival, leading giants through the streets of London, Dublin and Galway, at Olympic Torch events, celebratory feasts and leading humanist funerals. Tim is also festival director for The Sound of the Streets, a charity promoting outdoor music and musical director of the Wye Valley River Festival where he helps street bands across the country including The Big Noise in Taunton and Horns of Plenty in Oxford.

Leviathan Whispers is a spectral, contemplative selection of Tim's recorded work, including material created for art installations, outdoor projects, solo performances and personal meditations. Inspired by landscape and the eternal pull of Blake's Albion, baritone, alto and soprano saxophones are mixed with tape loops, old synths, recycled live recordings, woodwinds and reeds. Other sounds are processed by Colin Potter (Nurse With Wound) and drone artist Jonathan Coleclough. The album artwork and accompanying videos feature sound sculptures by Michael Fairfax (Royal Society of Sculptors) alongside unsettling visuals by fi lm-maker and junk-alchemist David Young. "an amazing player - there's a weight to his music with a wonderfully dark edge" Corey Mwamba / BBC Radio 3 Fans of Colin Stetson, John Surman, Anna Von Hausswolff , William Basinski and La Monte Young will fi nd much to savour on this new 12" LP. LAUNCH PARTY: we're holding a special launch event with a live performance and talk by Tim Hill on Saturday, 15th November inside a beautiful Victorian chapel beneath Royal Berks Hospital, Reading.

In 2023, k.d.b lived in a crumbling farmhouse on the edge of the River Maas. Each morning, he’d wake at 6:00 and walk along the river’s bank with his dogfriend Miemel, pausing at sunrise for a cup of coffee.

It’s 6:34, and a thick rug of mist rolls out across the river. It’s so dense that k.d.b can’t see the water beneath it. Then comes the sun: a single ray cutting through the mist like a tube of light, landing on Miemel’s face. In her mouth is a CD she’s picked up, and on the CD is the title Instrumental Romance.

'What is Instrumental Romance?' thinks k.d.b. 'Romantic instrumentals? Or a romance used instrumentally? As in, a romance used to get something—like love?'

Miemel drops the CD and turns her attention to a stray purple grape on the path. Grapes are poisonous to dogs, and as she bends toward it, k.d.b. shouts, “NO!” At that precise moment, a large fish rises from the mist. It launches into the air, mouth wide open, and hangs there above the clouds. His shout, having traveled across the river, bounces back towards k.d.b with a “NO,” and in perfect synchrony, it appears the fish is also shouting at Miemel. The timing is so perfect, they can’t be sure it isn’t.

The fish falls back down, entering its watery world with an eerie, splashless silence, leaving k.d.b and Miemel standing open-mouthed on the bank. Before they can register the perfection of this duet, another fish (or maybe the same one again) rises from the mist in the exact same spot and launches into the air. Without thinking, k.d.b shouts again. The word “ROMANCE” comes out. This time, however, he is slightly too late, and the word is too long, so “ROMANCE” lingers on after the fish has already fallen back down.

'What even is romance?' thinks k.d.b. 'The construction of mystery or excitement with dead red flowers and timing?'

A foghorn sounds behind him, and k.d.b turns 180 degrees to see a boat moving freight, right to left, along the River Maas. 'That’s strange', he thinks. 'If the river is there, then what’s that behind me, below the mist?'

Staring at the boat and its shipping containers as they float out of sight, k.d.b imagines a man. The man is standing at the bottom of a small valley, holding a fish. 'Who is this man, and what does he want?'

- Jacob Dwyer