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James 'Perturbator' Kent and Cult of Luna are the masters of their respective worlds. Over the last decade, the French maestro has become the most expectation-breaking name in synthwave, transcending its '80s video game aesthetic with metal and post-punk.

Meanwhile, the Swedish sextet have affirmed themselves as post-metal's biggest stars. Seismic riffs, earth-quaking growls and brave collaborations with everyone from Julie Christmas to Colin Stetson have ensured they're as blistering as they are forward-thinking.
Eclecticism and violence are married in Final Light: Perturbator's team-up with Cult of Luna singer/guitarist Johannes Persson. The pair's self-titled debut album is the perfect conglomerate between seemingly incompatible sounds.

On its opening track, the insidious "Nothing Will Bear Your Name", synths bubble to construct an arresting opening half. Then, release. Johannes' roar strikes and guitar chords boom as computerised beats anchor the chaos.

"It Came with the Water" echoes Cult of Luna's 2013 titan Vertikal, invoking images of an urban dystopia as its deep guitar melody grinds beneath sci-fi electronica. The title track's distorted EDM beats, on the other hand, are all James 'Perturbator' Kent, capable of invigorating the seediest of underground nightclubs. Both parties are clearly playing to their strengths - but for them to do so in such perfect harmony is, in itself, a genre-demolishing feat.

Lyrically, Final Light seethes with anger. "There was so much that I was so fucking pissed about," Johannes explains. "Some of my friends were dealing with a poisonous person: a narcissistic, crazy person. I was walking around full of anger and hate, so I think that came out in those lyrics."

The tandem's story began in 2019. Walter Hoeijmakers, the artistic director of the Netherlands' lauded Roadburn festival, approached James 'Perturbator' Kent with the opportunity of doing a commissioned piece with any musician of his choosing. As soon as the pair began work on their boundary-decimating songs, they knew that they had to be immortalised as an album.

"It was immediate," states Perturbator. "It's a project that I really want to share; it's not only the fruit of a collaboration between me and one of my favourite musicians, but also very unique and once-in-a-lifetime."
They wrote and recorded together in Paris before the start of the pandemic. Covid, which postponed the Roadburn festival at which the band would have debuted, gave them time to perfect what they'd crafted.
Johannes recorded additional vocals at Cult of Luna's resident studio in Umeå, Sweden, fully capturing the rage of his apocalyptically harsh voice.

Borders were built to be shattered. This is the sound of their destruction. Single-handedly, Final Light have birthed a new, bleak breed of experimental metal.

James 'Perturbator' Kent and Cult of Luna are the masters of their respective worlds. Over the last decade, the French maestro has become the most expectation-breaking name in synthwave, transcending its '80s video game aesthetic with metal and post-punk.

Meanwhile, the Swedish sextet have affirmed themselves as post-metal's biggest stars. Seismic riffs, earth-quaking growls and brave collaborations with everyone from Julie Christmas to Colin Stetson have ensured they're as blistering as they are forward-thinking.
Eclecticism and violence are married in Final Light: Perturbator's team-up with Cult of Luna singer/guitarist Johannes Persson. The pair's self-titled debut album is the perfect conglomerate between seemingly incompatible sounds.

On its opening track, the insidious "Nothing Will Bear Your Name", synths bubble to construct an arresting opening half. Then, release. Johannes' roar strikes and guitar chords boom as computerised beats anchor the chaos.

"It Came with the Water" echoes Cult of Luna's 2013 titan Vertikal, invoking images of an urban dystopia as its deep guitar melody grinds beneath sci-fi electronica. The title track's distorted EDM beats, on the other hand, are all James 'Perturbator' Kent, capable of invigorating the seediest of underground nightclubs. Both parties are clearly playing to their strengths - but for them to do so in such perfect harmony is, in itself, a genre-demolishing feat.

Lyrically, Final Light seethes with anger. "There was so much that I was so fucking pissed about," Johannes explains. "Some of my friends were dealing with a poisonous person: a narcissistic, crazy person. I was walking around full of anger and hate, so I think that came out in those lyrics."

The tandem's story began in 2019. Walter Hoeijmakers, the artistic director of the Netherlands' lauded Roadburn festival, approached James 'Perturbator' Kent with the opportunity of doing a commissioned piece with any musician of his choosing. As soon as the pair began work on their boundary-decimating songs, they knew that they had to be immortalised as an album.

"It was immediate," states Perturbator. "It's a project that I really want to share; it's not only the fruit of a collaboration between me and one of my favourite musicians, but also very unique and once-in-a-lifetime."
They wrote and recorded together in Paris before the start of the pandemic. Covid, which postponed the Roadburn festival at which the band would have debuted, gave them time to perfect what they'd crafted.
Johannes recorded additional vocals at Cult of Luna's resident studio in Umeå, Sweden, fully capturing the rage of his apocalyptically harsh voice.

Borders were built to be shattered. This is the sound of their destruction. Single-handedly, Final Light have birthed a new, bleak breed of experimental metal.

Mark Korven's original soundtrack for 'The Lighthouse,' starring Robert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe, marks his second collaboration with director Robert Eggers (The Witch).
"Robert Eggers and I were rather like the two wickies that went insane in The Lighthouse, musically speaking. We travelled to some very dark harmonic and textural places. We both enjoy not just breaking the rules, but blowing them to smithereens. The spirit of experimentation was always present."
-Composer Mark Korven


"Composer Mark Korven and I developed a shorthand working together on The Witch. This made collaborating on The Lighthouse an incredibly enjoyable process. But it was not without its many challenges. Originally, I wanted a score with no strings at all. The Witch soundtrack was so string-prominent that I wanted a full departure. I only wanted horns, pipes, conch shells, concertina - things that sounded like the sea - or the lighthouse station's ominous foghorn. It would be a minimalist aleatoric soundtrack with a nod to sea shanties and ancient Greek music. As Mark and I embraced the sound of big brass sections, it quickly became a maximalist aleatoric soundtrack.

Busy is Good is an assemblage of rare-groove and jazz-funk cuts pulled from 45s of the 70s and 80s. A project that celebrates pure creative expression, these under-appreciated tracks reflect the individual efforts of artists both of their time and ahead of it; local legends who challenged convention and produced work steeped in ambition.

From the seductively smooth “Twilight,” by New York’s own Febop, to the blistering key breaks and infectious funk of Bob Payne’s “Side By Side”, this anthology highlights the fusions and crossovers that occurred in jazz, rock, funk and soul at the time. Buddy Emmer’s jazz-kissed breezer “That Summer Nite” and Forest’s synth-pumped AOR cut “Crazy Days” further traverse the many styles that bloomed in the 70s and 80s.

Four killer tracks of high grade electronic soul from James Baker AKA REKAB. A fantastic EP showing both breadth of style and respect for the roots and traditions of the music from this artist.The first, Locked on Dodge, is a driving deep Detroit techno track with a hypnotic arpeggiated lead and filtered atmospherics to lose yourself inside. Don’t get too comfortable though, it’s capped with a surprise electro switch in the breakdown to keep the floor on their toes! The second track, We Need to Care, delivers a cool clear synth sound design over Chicago influenced house tempo beats and lush pads. Simultaneously groovy and comforting, this is a track for those special moments. Jacking with your eyes closed and a big grin on your face.
Third we have a clear tribute to Drexciya with In Search of the Deep Sea Dweller. Tough 808 beats and laser zaps punch through a bed of evocative strings whilst a filtered single note loop rises and falls like the tide. An abstract robotic voice presides over the track, adding atmosphere whilst giving it a sense of mysterious machine driven intelligence.
Lastly, Too Much Time gets its space boogie on. Electro funk beats jump round staccato synth chords and a simple but effective Moog-like bass line. Once the scene is set, a writhing 303 joins the proceedings accompanied soaring pads and beautiful melodic leads that make you feel like you’re being lifted into the cosmos.
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ReKab aka James Baker from the UK started Djing in the early 90’s. Later on he started playing around with music. Finally the ReKab sound was established in 2019 with his first release on Where We Met records. Other releases followed soon on Móatún, Withhold, Intellitronic Bubble, We’re Going Deep and Fourier Transform.
His music is very deep and full of emotions and influenced by his love for Detroit.

A.B. Crentsil is a heavyweight of Highlife music and the main vocalist of Sweet Talks, one of the most popular Ghanaian bands of the 1970’s. In 1992, musician Charles Amoah and producer Richie Osei Kuffour offered him the opportunity to explore a new popular sound: Bürger Highlife. Little did he know these studio sessions would give birth to the biggest song of his career.
Charles Amoah, who had released his Sweet Vibrations LP in 1984 to great acclaim, extensively toured in Europe with bands such as Black Earth and Saraba, was eager to bring a new sound to Crentsil, an artist he had admired for years. Throughout the 1980’s, Highlife had been changing pretty radically, following the same evolution as Congolese Soukous, Caribbean Zouk and most popular black music
genres of that era: Heavy use of drum machines, synths and digital technology was conveniently replacing big bands and expensive
analog studios and equipments. Mostly recorded, produced or mixed in Germany, this new breed of electric Highlife dubbed ‘Bürger Highlife’ could be defined as a fusion of Disco, Jazz, Funk and Pop with the popular Highlife beats, rhythms and lyrics.
According to A.B. Crentsil, the name was a reference to the ever present American cultural influence on Ghanaian musicians. Charles
Amoah has his own take: “I initially called this particular kind of Highlife ‘Ethno Pop’. Bürger is the German word for citizen, and that’s how Ghanaian musicians living and working in Germany were calling each other”.
The music for both “Obi Baa Wiase'' and “Sika Be Ba” was entirely composed and played by Charles Amoah, using minimal equipment: a
DX7 synth, a Korg M1, a Yamaha RX5 drum machine, and an Akai 1000 sampler. A.B. Crentsil provided the lyrics for both tunes on the spot. Obi Ba Wiase’s message is one of gratitude and faith: it says we should appreciate our life way more and follow the example of people who have a lot less but still praise God all day.
Charles remembers fondly Crentsil’s larger than life personality: "A.B. slept a lot, he really loved sleeping. His lack of punctuality was easily dismissed by his wonderful sense of humour and it wasn't uncommon to find musicians rolling with laughter on the studio floor."
Charles also remembers vividly the "Obi Baa Wiase" session: he could feel the magic in the air while working on the soon to be hit, and
knew something special was happening. A.B. asked for a break in the middle of the session, which Charles adamantly refused until the song was finished and the magic fully captured.
Success was not immediate, and Charles was first a little concerned by the lack of buzz following the immediate release of the Gyae Me
Life Ma Me album. But a few months down the line, the situation took a new turn. "Obi Baa Wiase" was making its way into radio playlists,
weddings and festive celebrations. It was covered by local bands, and soon most of Ghana and its European and American diasporas were hooked. It became A.B. Crentsil’s most requested song at live events for the following decades.
As producer Richie Moore wrote on the album back cover : "A perfect integration of two musical geniuses, the result of which are the
scintillating tracks of music on this record… so all you party fans go onto the floor and dance the body music"

Side A / Double A / The Game

Are you ready to play the game? More big drums heat for the dance floor, courtesy of label boss, Double A. Breaks everywhere, huge fills, horn stabs, some sneaky dancehall vocal samples, and a cheeky breakdown keep this one rolling. 1970’s afro funk business for sure, with plenty of elements across multiple genres to pique the interest of any crowd.

Side B / DJ Fleg (feat. Lean Rock) / Dimension Five / Latin Escapades

If you’re a b-boy or b-girl then there’s no introduction necessary here for Fleg or Lean Rock.
For everyone else, get ready for a party breaks master class. Fleg brings the classic loop heat on “Dimension Five”. Expertly produced, this one snaps hard. If you didn’t know, you’d never guess it started its life as a mellow jazz track. For “Latin Escapades” Fleg teams up with Lean Rock for some completely bananas breaks action over latin horn stabs. Both of these are instant party starters and versatile enough for any funky set.

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Mind Eclipse completes Deetron’s triptych for Running Back. After Body Electric and Ego Rave, it’s the missing part in a tale of youthful exuberance told by a seasoned raver and transported into the here and now. Taking the essence of the carefree energy of those days, its warehouses and fields minus the (sometimes!) aural clumsiness, Deetron delivers four studies in the transformation of said emotional states.
Mind Eclipse aka Trancehouzztool does exactly what it says on the tin: big synths, swirl and twirl during an extra long break down for an uproar – serotonin shower included. HG acts like an umbrella to that. Almost melancholic in its presence and meandering between highs and lows, it’s the perfect counterpoint and offset.
On the other side, Phoenix sounds like a lost Border Community hymn that found its way near a Roland 909 for peak time purposes, before The Shore closes the book in a hybrid state between electro and disco or the soundtrack to IDM supporters in a gym workout (also available in an alternative version digitally for those who like their beats straight).
It won’t eclipse your mind though that Deetron knows what he does in the studio, so expect finest artistry, crafty tricks and technical expertise. „’Til the sweatshirts are falling down of us…“

Second Sub Pop album by acclaimed UK act TV Priest finds them building on the
post-punk of their early material and maturing into a powerhouse of tense, politically
caustic, and thoughtful rock music.
Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made
their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were
established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their
political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy
on its wearer’s shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. “A lot of it did feel
like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length,” says vocalist Charlie
Drinkwater. “I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take
a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the
opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest.”
Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued
press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous
outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single ‘House of York’
followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to
Sub Pop for their debut album. When ‘Uppers’ arrived in the height of a global
pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its “dystopian doublespeak,”
but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic
Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of
tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the
personal and professional landmark of its release felt “both colossal and minuscule”
dampened by the inability to share it live. “It was a real gratification and really
cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental
health,” admits Drinkwater. “I wasn’t prepared, and I hadn’t necessarily expected it to
reach as many people as it did.”
As such, ‘My Other People’ maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking
advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using ‘Saintless’ (the closing
song from ‘Uppers’) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting
lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as
a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health.
“Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would
say, particularly well,” he says. “There was a lot of things that had happened to
myself and my family that were quite troubling moments. Despite that I do think the
record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders
for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in.”
“It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something
that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful,” agrees Bueth. “Brutality and frustration are
only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the
time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening.”
This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and
an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to ‘My Other People’, a
record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you’re
welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is
a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or
any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

When Mani Festo isn't designing the artwork for Club Glow - the collective he forms part of alongside Borai, Denham Audio and LMajor - or running his own imprint "Flightpath", he uses his DJ sets and production to pay homage to the soundsystem-oriented music that made him. A real artist of the moment, the past couple of years have seen Mani Festo get the recognition he deserves, with many citing his prowess in capturing the darkly seductive essence of hardcore's antecedents, creating something at once nostalgic and futuristic.

Those searching for this fine balance will not be disappointed by Pathfinder EP, the next instalment of Basement Trax: a series which focuses on club-fuelled Techno and Electro. "Powertriip" is a full-bodied electro slammer, coloured by the metallic textures of an industrial soundscape. The title track continues with the same high-voltage pressure, this time with hi-hats that give it double-time energy.

The B-side is about computer love: "Big Rooms" is driven by a highly-processed acid melody whilst "Auto Sequence" is a dizzying take on breaks with high-pitched arpeggios and deranged vocal chops that add to the track's eeriness.

Following on from their ground-breaking 1988 self-titled EP, Godflesh's
debut full-length was an absolute game-changer and still stands as one
of industrial metal's most defining documents to this day
Drawing from post- punk and industrial acts like; Swans, Big Black, Killing Joke
and Throbbing Gristle as much as the more metallic and punk influences that
informed guitarist/ vocalist Justin Broadrick's previous band Napalm Death, the
pounding, drum- machine powered sonic assault of 'Streetcleaner' sounded like
nothing else at the time, breaking down people's perceptions of what a metal
band could sound like. You can still feel the album's broad influence everywhere
from the dense atmospheres of post- metal to the abrasive beats of modern
industrial and techno outfits, but despite its many imitators, there's still nothing
else that quite captures the feelings of paranoia, anxiety and urban decay that
'Streetcleaner' so deftly articulates.

"Big Time" entstand mit einem Peitschenhieb in den seltenen, fruchtbaren Momenten, in denen sowohl frische Trauer als auch frische Liebe gleichzeitig auftreten, in denen sich Kummer und Verliebtheit gegenseitig verstärken, verkomplizieren und erklären. Verlust ist schon immer ein Thema in Olsens Songs gewesen, aber nur wenige können Elegien mit einer derart rücksichtslosen Energie schreiben, wie sie. Wenn diese aus allen Nähten platzende, bergab rasende Energie für ihre Arbeit unüberwindbar schien, beweist "Big Time", dass Olsen jetzt von einem verwurzelteren Ort der Klarheit aus schreibt. Dabei arbeitet sie mit einer elastischen Beherrschung ihrer Stimme - sowohl klanglich als auch künstlerisch. In diesen Liedern geht es nicht nur um die Transformation von Trauer, sondern auch darum, Freiheit und Freude in den Entbehrungen zu finden, die diese mit sich bringen. "Big Time" ist ein Album über die expansive Kraft der neuen Liebe, geschrieben in der Zeit, als Angel Olsen sich als queer outete und ihre ersten Erfahrungen mit queerer Liebe und Herzschmerz machte. Aber dieser Glanz und Optimismus wird durch ein tiefes und vielschichtiges Gefühl von Verlust gemildert. Während Olsens Prozess der Auseinandersetzung mit ihrem Queer-Sein und der Konfrontation mit den Traumata, die sie davon abgehalten hatten, sich selbst voll und ganz zu akzeptieren, fühlte sie, dass es an der Zeit war, sich ihren Eltern gegenüber zu outen - eine Hürde, die sie eine Zeit lang vermieden hatte. "Some experiences just make you feel as though you're five years old, no matter how wise or adult you think you are", schreibt sie über diese Zeit. Nach diesem tränenreichen, aber erleichternden Gespräch feierte sie mit ihrem/ihrer Partner*in, ihren Freund*innen, mit Austern und Wein. "Finally, at the ripe age of 34, I was free to be me." Drei Tage später starb ihr Vater, dessen Beerdigung Olsen zum Anlass nahm, den/die Partner*in ihrer Familie vorzustellen. Nur zwei Wochen später erhielt Olsen den Anruf, dass ihre Mutter in der Notaufnahme lag. Eine Zeit im Hospiz kam bald darauf, und eine zweite Beerdigung folgte kurz nach der ersten. Eine weitere Reise zurück nach St. Louis, eine weitere Trauerbewältigung, eine weitere Vertiefung und Intensivierung dieser noch jungen Liebe. Drei Wochen nach der Beerdigung ihrer Mutter war Olsen im Studio, um dieses unglaublich weise und zärtliche neue Album "Big Time" aufzunehmen. Ausgelassene Anspielungen an Tammy Wynette und Kitty Wells tauchen auf "Big Time" ebenso auf wie die komplexen Orchestrationen ihres genreübergreifenden 2019er Albums "All Mirrors". Während jenes Album voller dramatischer Veränderungen und Wendungen war, liegen die Überraschungen hier in ihrer Einfachheit - ein langsames Anschwellen der Streicher, eine Instrumentierung, die wie ein Sturm zyklisch ist, oder funkelnde Hörner in einer lichtdurchfluteten Break-up-Ballade, während kaum ein Synthesizer in Sicht ist. "Big Time" wurde zusammen mit dem Co-Produzenten Jonathan Wilson in seinen Fivestar Studios in Topanga, Kalifornien, aufgenommen und gemischt. Drew Erickson spielte Klavier, Orgel und kümmerte sich um die Streicherarrangements. Olsens langjährige Bandkollegin Emily Elhaj spielte durchgehend den Bass.

"Big Time" entstand mit einem Peitschenhieb in den seltenen, fruchtbaren Momenten, in denen sowohl frische Trauer als auch frische Liebe gleichzeitig auftreten, in denen sich Kummer und Verliebtheit gegenseitig verstärken, verkomplizieren und erklären. Verlust ist schon immer ein Thema in Olsens Songs gewesen, aber nur wenige können Elegien mit einer derart rücksichtslosen Energie schreiben, wie sie. Wenn diese aus allen Nähten platzende, bergab rasende Energie für ihre Arbeit unüberwindbar schien, beweist "Big Time", dass Olsen jetzt von einem verwurzelteren Ort der Klarheit aus schreibt. Dabei arbeitet sie mit einer elastischen Beherrschung ihrer Stimme - sowohl klanglich als auch künstlerisch. In diesen Liedern geht es nicht nur um die Transformation von Trauer, sondern auch darum, Freiheit und Freude in den Entbehrungen zu finden, die diese mit sich bringen. "Big Time" ist ein Album über die expansive Kraft der neuen Liebe, geschrieben in der Zeit, als Angel Olsen sich als queer outete und ihre ersten Erfahrungen mit queerer Liebe und Herzschmerz machte. Aber dieser Glanz und Optimismus wird durch ein tiefes und vielschichtiges Gefühl von Verlust gemildert. Während Olsens Prozess der Auseinandersetzung mit ihrem Queer-Sein und der Konfrontation mit den Traumata, die sie davon abgehalten hatten, sich selbst voll und ganz zu akzeptieren, fühlte sie, dass es an der Zeit war, sich ihren Eltern gegenüber zu outen - eine Hürde, die sie eine Zeit lang vermieden hatte. "Some experiences just make you feel as though you're five years old, no matter how wise or adult you think you are", schreibt sie über diese Zeit. Nach diesem tränenreichen, aber erleichternden Gespräch feierte sie mit ihrem/ihrer Partner*in, ihren Freund*innen, mit Austern und Wein. "Finally, at the ripe age of 34, I was free to be me." Drei Tage später starb ihr Vater, dessen Beerdigung Olsen zum Anlass nahm, den/die Partner*in ihrer Familie vorzustellen. Nur zwei Wochen später erhielt Olsen den Anruf, dass ihre Mutter in der Notaufnahme lag. Eine Zeit im Hospiz kam bald darauf, und eine zweite Beerdigung folgte kurz nach der ersten. Eine weitere Reise zurück nach St. Louis, eine weitere Trauerbewältigung, eine weitere Vertiefung und Intensivierung dieser noch jungen Liebe. Drei Wochen nach der Beerdigung ihrer Mutter war Olsen im Studio, um dieses unglaublich weise und zärtliche neue Album "Big Time" aufzunehmen. Ausgelassene Anspielungen an Tammy Wynette und Kitty Wells tauchen auf "Big Time" ebenso auf wie die komplexen Orchestrationen ihres genreübergreifenden 2019er Albums "All Mirrors". Während jenes Album voller dramatischer Veränderungen und Wendungen war, liegen die Überraschungen hier in ihrer Einfachheit - ein langsames Anschwellen der Streicher, eine Instrumentierung, die wie ein Sturm zyklisch ist, oder funkelnde Hörner in einer lichtdurchfluteten Break-up-Ballade, während kaum ein Synthesizer in Sicht ist. "Big Time" wurde zusammen mit dem Co-Produzenten Jonathan Wilson in seinen Fivestar Studios in Topanga, Kalifornien, aufgenommen und gemischt. Drew Erickson spielte Klavier, Orgel und kümmerte sich um die Streicherarrangements. Olsens langjährige Bandkollegin Emily Elhaj spielte durchgehend den Bass.

"Big Time" entstand mit einem Peitschenhieb in den seltenen, fruchtbaren Momenten, in denen sowohl frische Trauer als auch frische Liebe gleichzeitig auftreten, in denen sich Kummer und Verliebtheit gegenseitig verstärken, verkomplizieren und erklären. Verlust ist schon immer ein Thema in Olsens Songs gewesen, aber nur wenige können Elegien mit einer derart rücksichtslosen Energie schreiben, wie sie. Wenn diese aus allen Nähten platzende, bergab rasende Energie für ihre Arbeit unüberwindbar schien, beweist "Big Time", dass Olsen jetzt von einem verwurzelteren Ort der Klarheit aus schreibt. Dabei arbeitet sie mit einer elastischen Beherrschung ihrer Stimme - sowohl klanglich als auch künstlerisch. In diesen Liedern geht es nicht nur um die Transformation von Trauer, sondern auch darum, Freiheit und Freude in den Entbehrungen zu finden, die diese mit sich bringen. "Big Time" ist ein Album über die expansive Kraft der neuen Liebe, geschrieben in der Zeit, als Angel Olsen sich als queer outete und ihre ersten Erfahrungen mit queerer Liebe und Herzschmerz machte. Aber dieser Glanz und Optimismus wird durch ein tiefes und vielschichtiges Gefühl von Verlust gemildert. Während Olsens Prozess der Auseinandersetzung mit ihrem Queer-Sein und der Konfrontation mit den Traumata, die sie davon abgehalten hatten, sich selbst voll und ganz zu akzeptieren, fühlte sie, dass es an der Zeit war, sich ihren Eltern gegenüber zu outen - eine Hürde, die sie eine Zeit lang vermieden hatte. "Some experiences just make you feel as though you're five years old, no matter how wise or adult you think you are", schreibt sie über diese Zeit. Nach diesem tränenreichen, aber erleichternden Gespräch feierte sie mit ihrem/ihrer Partner*in, ihren Freund*innen, mit Austern und Wein. "Finally, at the ripe age of 34, I was free to be me." Drei Tage später starb ihr Vater, dessen Beerdigung Olsen zum Anlass nahm, den/die Partner*in ihrer Familie vorzustellen. Nur zwei Wochen später erhielt Olsen den Anruf, dass ihre Mutter in der Notaufnahme lag. Eine Zeit im Hospiz kam bald darauf, und eine zweite Beerdigung folgte kurz nach der ersten. Eine weitere Reise zurück nach St. Louis, eine weitere Trauerbewältigung, eine weitere Vertiefung und Intensivierung dieser noch jungen Liebe. Drei Wochen nach der Beerdigung ihrer Mutter war Olsen im Studio, um dieses unglaublich weise und zärtliche neue Album "Big Time" aufzunehmen. Ausgelassene Anspielungen an Tammy Wynette und Kitty Wells tauchen auf "Big Time" ebenso auf wie die komplexen Orchestrationen ihres genreübergreifenden 2019er Albums "All Mirrors". Während jenes Album voller dramatischer Veränderungen und Wendungen war, liegen die Überraschungen hier in ihrer Einfachheit - ein langsames Anschwellen der Streicher, eine Instrumentierung, die wie ein Sturm zyklisch ist, oder funkelnde Hörner in einer lichtdurchfluteten Break-up-Ballade, während kaum ein Synthesizer in Sicht ist. "Big Time" wurde zusammen mit dem Co-Produzenten Jonathan Wilson in seinen Fivestar Studios in Topanga, Kalifornien, aufgenommen und gemischt. Drew Erickson spielte Klavier, Orgel und kümmerte sich um die Streicherarrangements. Olsens langjährige Bandkollegin Emily Elhaj spielte durchgehend den Bass.

"This fabled 11 minute+ version of Brazilian icon Joyce's groundbreaking "Feminina" was recorded at Columbia Studios, New York in 1977, for the as yet unreleased Natureza album. Produced, arranged and conducted by the great Claus Ogerman (Frank Sinatra, Antonio Carlos Jobim, Billie Holiday... the list goes on), Natureza would have ostensibly been Joyce's big break to international stardom, but mysteriously it was never released. With Joyce came fellow Brazilian icons Mauricio Maestro, Nana Vasconcelos and Tutty Moreno, and Ogerman employed North American jazz legends Joe Farrell, Michael Brecker, Buster Williams and Mike Manieri. In anticipation of the monumental forthcoming Natureza album release via Far Out Recordings, this astonishing version of a true classic gets it's first proper 12" release for Record Store Day 2022. In the spirit of making the release special for RSD, rather than make it a single sided 12", Far Out boss called up Joyce to talk about the recording, recorded the conversation, and pressed it to vinyl on the B side."

NOAHFINNCE’s ‘STUFF FROM MY BRAIN / MY BRAIN AFTER THERAPY’ is a collection of songs written before and after therapy.

The debut double EP collection features guest vocals from Chris Freeman of Hot Mulligan and builds the world of NOAHFINNCE’s unique, hyperactive brain.

The project tackles issues like depression, anxiety, ADHD, past trauma and the path toward prioritizing mental health.

Deeply personal, but always expressed with a cheeky, quirky, not-so-serious sense of humour, NOAHFINNCE showcases the big personality that has amassed a huge YouTube following and led
him toward being a leading voice in Trans/LGBTQ+ youth issues.

With songs like ‘AFTER THERAPY’ and ‘LIFE'S A
BIT’, NOAHFINNCE is poised to break out as this
year’s new star of the new wave of pop punk.

For fans of YUNGBLUD, Waterparks, Set It Off.

LP pressed on cloudy blue vinyl.

SIDE B
Photoprint

Dutch vocalist Anouk is one of the most popular rock singers of The Netherlands. Her big breakthrough happened back in 1994, but she has been making hits ever since. Due to her versatile repertoire, she’s able to surprise us each time with new work in a different direction.

Her brand new album Trails of Fails describes her desire to keep on growing and discover new musical grounds. Trails of Fails is, in fact, a mini-album, consisting of seven tracks. Anouk recorded the album together with high profile producer Jim Abbiss, who previously worked with Arctic Monkeys, Adele and Kasabian amongst others. The tracks were written during her year-long quarantine due to COVID-19, during which she was separated from both her husband and children. The results are seven very personal and intimate tracks.

Trails of Fails is available as a limited edition of 2000 individually numbered copies on white coloured vinyl. The B-side contains a unique photoprint.