Suche:blood music

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" Via Negativa (in the doorway light). Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo's enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering - these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age. The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band's fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music's polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals." From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don't see directly."

3rd pressing on 1xLP Black Vinyl with Universe Sparkle Please Note: "The quality of sparkle vinyl is comparable to vinyl with metallic effects" Universe Sparkle: Fine blue glitter Beautiful gatefold sleeve with original art by Daniele Giardini We're excited to announce that we're releasing Chris Christodoulou's soundtrack to Hopoo Games' Risk of Rain 2 DLC SURVIVORS OF THE VOID on limited edition vinyl. The vinyl comes in a beautiful gatefold sleeve with stunning original artwork by Daniele Giardini. While a direct continuation of the original Risk of Rain 2 soundtrack, SURVIVORS OF THE VOID also marks a return to the roots of the ROR music-verse, reintroducing and reimagining several themes from the original game as their void-corrupted counterparts! Heavy on guitars & synths, punctuated by pounding drums, washed in lush reverbs, the album also introduces new timbres with lyrical woodwinds, soaring violins and deranged saxophones. "It's been a fun challenge revisiting these old pieces as was conjuring new ones. The void theme of the DLC offered the opportunity to write some darker-than-usual material, which I really enjoyed, I hope you will too." - Chris

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

The eighth and latest slate of refined retro-futuristic synth-pop by Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride aka Xeno & Oaklander is named after and inspired by "the study of what not to do, a negative image of a positive, the other side, the other:" 'Via Negativa (in the doorway light)'. Recorded in the fall of 2023 at their modernist Connecticut home fashioned into a two-story synthesizer laboratory and mixing studio, the album is uniquely visionary in spirit yet precision in execution, a contrast central to the duo’s enduring chemistry. Embryonic piano sketches were translated to nuanced modular systems, which McBride weighted with "harmonic padding," tuned percussion, and a spectral transfer device capable of "rendering spasms of rhythmic overtonal filigree." Despite the technological complexity of their craft, emotively the songs require no deciphering – these are technicolor widescreen anthems of the cybernetic age.

The eponymous opening track sets the pace, soaring sleekly over glittering synths and call-and-response vocals about arias, shattered light, and faces in stereo. From there the record expands and contracts, cycling through a gallery of moods and masks, animated by the band’s fascination with drama, "the idea of personae," and theatrical characters. Track by track, a murky, tragic backstory reveals itself: forlorn figures navigating a treacherous mercury mine, alternately poisoned by fumes or buried in collapsing caverns. The tension between Teutonic, utopian synthetic pop and lyrical narratives of ghosts in silos, ruined mills, and the traumas of mineral excavation creates a compelling friction, alternately futurist and obsolete, elevated and subterranean. Wendelbo describes the music’s polarities perfectly: "The heavy machinic din of extraction in contrast with the enchantment of the mined precious gems and metals."

From bilingual odes to bloodstones ("O Vermillion") to cosmic chrome dance floor classics ("Lost & There" "The present tense can never feel real / So many pasts conspire in the burning sun") to strutting EBM sensualities ("Actor's Foil"), Xeno & Oaklander re-prove themselves masters of the axis of technology and poetry, snaking cables and synesthesia, mining melodies and myths across 15 years of focused artistry. Theirs is a muse still gilded and gleaming, burnished red and silver, attuned to "the unobservable, the unfamiliar, that which you don’t see directly."

"Enjoy The Ride Records in conjunction with Universal Music Group proudly present The Damned Things - Ironiclast. Available on vinyl for the first time, The Damned Things is a supergroup featuring Keith Buckley (Every Time I Die, Many Eyes), Scott Ian (Anthrax, S.O.D., Mr. Bungle), Rob Caggiano (Anthrax, Boiler Room, Volbeat), Andy Hurley (Fall Out Boy), & Joe Trohman (Fall Out Boy).

Pressed on 140-gram limited edition color vinyl, Ironiclast includes a double-sided insert with lyrics and an exclusive retrospective essay by Keith Buckley."

Ltd White Vinyl, DL card. 1992's 'Untitled' brought the band's third album that re-cemented the duo once again as the progenitors of the "lo-fi" genre. This breakthrough set transitioned "The Trux" into a never ending all-inclusive rotating cast of musicians. Continuing Fire Records' series of classic remastered albums from Royal Trux, 'Untitled' is released on white vinyl and features updated monochrome and silver artwork. As unpredictable as ever, Neil Hagerty and Jennifer Herrema shook off the next level layering and noise of 'Twin Infinitives' to embrace the history of rock 'n' roll in all its deformed grandeur. Utilizing their ever present mind set of macro-inclusivity, they allowed the subconscious "radio stations" of their lives to infiltrate, lead, and dictate. Culling from their collective minds and memories twisted tunes that touched them. After the blood rush of their much-hailed avant-garde masterpiece 'Twin Infinitives' (1988), this eight-song opus added to the lo-fi genre that originated on 'Twin Infinitives'. On 'Untitled' Hagerty uses his 5-string blues roots and hails rock's twisted potential, while Herrema slurs and snarls in ecstasy. They sound like they're locked in a fourth-floor boudoir at the Chelsea Hotel; bottles clink, an album clicks on its run-out groove, the band plays on. In the mix are the characters and casualties of the 90s, a roll call of swaggering misfits. These aren't superficial sketches, the Trux cut much deeper than that_ "'Junkie Nurse' isn't just about addiction; it's about the twisted hope that even the most broken people can somehow mend others, even when they're falling apart themselves." Jennifer Herrema, Royal Trux. With 'Untitled' Royal Trux justifiably increased their coterie of convicted followers, becoming the cult heroes for a transgressive generation, and the Rosetta Stone for male/female duos (ie:The White Stripes, The Kills etc... ) over the years inspiring everyone from The Silver Jews (David Berman) & Sonic Youth through to melodic blue-eyed soulsters like Hot Chip - "I urge and encourage you to enter the harmolodic multiverse of their music." Alexis Taylor, Hot Chip. "Royal Trux were nothing if not fearless." Pitchfork.

In a world of division, BEÃTFÓØT’s delayed second album is as an invitation to unite at a utopian celebration of life. Originally scheduled for release in October 2023 but postponed due to the ongoing Israel/Palestine war, the intrinsically-political ‘TOO CUTE’ has taken on more prominence than the Tel Aviv duo of Udi Naor and Adi Bronicki could have imagined.
“It's more urgent than ever for us to share this now, even though the album has been ready for a while,” says producer Naor. “BEÃTFÓØT are against any war, and believe that people should talk and not use violence - never,” he adds vehemently. “We feel the pain of Palestinians and Israeli loss of life, and are devastated by it. We hope the war will be finished soon and that peace and prosperity will come soon for both sides.”
While both Naor and vocalist Bronicki have been active in protests, charity work and community efforts over the past year - explicitly against the current government in Israel - such values of peace, acceptance, coexistence, inclusiveness and anti-hate from all sides are further instilled in the songs that form ‘TOO CUTE’.
“We're really trying to highlight that there are people here working tirelessly for a brighter future for our ill kids and our neighbour’s kids,” adds Naor, who is also co-founder of techno duo Red Axes. Having had to flee the country with his family, it’s through music that Naor and Bronicki have found hope.
In light of such conflict, the multi-layered yet sonically-bonkers record also enables escapism, which is needed more now than ever. Following their self-titled 2021 debut (released on DJ Tennis’ label Life and Death), ‘TOO CUTE’ is a refreshingly-ridiculous dark-rave rollercoaster which careers between hard-dance, big-beat, post-punk, techno, hyperpop, country and everything in between.
Things blast off at breakneck speed with the chaotic title track’s hyperpop snares, instantly-catchy lyrics (which feel ominously striking considering the war) and a stadium-ready chorus that erupts into rolling breakbeats, punishing EDM and even a nod to The Bloodhound Gang’s ‘The Magic Touch’. Somehow, we’re just three minutes into the record.
The tongue-in-cheek ‘HEART OF LEAD (TAKE IT OFF)’ still bangs despite its silliness, like if Kero Kero Bonito got in the studio with will.i.am. Later, ‘LEO’S SONG (THE SOCIAL MEDIA GUY)’s wittily satirical one-liners - “I just wanna get high with AI” - come thick and fast amid a barrage of glitches and guitars. ‘SUKC MY DIKC !!!’, meanwhile, pairs flute with pulsing hardstyle beats.
While their first record’s experimental explosion captured the pure carnage and energy of the BEÃTFÓØT universe in a conceptual fashion (though remaining polished in its own way), album two is primed to connect with a bigger audience thanks to its pop melodies, structures and songwriting.

Much of ‘TOO CUTE’ was written while the duo toured Europe for the first time, with rough sketches of tracks created in the moment during their incendiary live shows, and then recorded in planes and cars.
If their first record was a case of testing the vibes, album two is more assured and confident within their sonic world. “In the first album, we stepped into the club, metaphorically, and started making eye contact with everyone to figure out the energy,” Bronicki says. “But, this time round, I already had an idea of the story that I wanted to tell to these random people.”
And what is that story? “Radical silliness, or radical fun – that’s the essence of BEÃTFÓØT,” Naor confirms. “What we really want to do is goof around and have fun, and that brings out something very profound and honest,” he explains. A sense of nostalgic freedom is also at the album’s core, thanks to the removal of adult predetermined social constructs that decide how people should behave or look. “There’s a very honest and positive energy in holding onto your childlike wonder and trying to explore that with others,” Bronicki suggests, adding that “the adult world can be so wrong and angering”.
She feels this relates to both the album’s lyrics and the artistic state of mind that the duo always work to: “the goal is to feed a really thought-out and profound idea, but through a playful spoon,” she says. With this in mind, the recurring theme of ‘TOO CUTE’ stems from the duo’s “radical and lived experience of existing in a place that holds a lot of guilt and fear – because death is so imminent and prevalent in a very confronting way”. This is clearly represented on ‘FOOTYLICIOU$’, on which Bronicki screams “someone’s gonna die tonight!” before emphatically shouting “NOT ME!”
The album title is BEÃTFÓØT’s response to that: “We want to be a celebration of life, and that applies to all lives, of all backgrounds, including animals… that’s our guiding light,” Bronicki says.
“We create in the context of living in a country where the current government’s anti-democratic measures are limiting who is included in the celebration of life. Because different people are always being pushed out and excluded: whether it’s queers, Palestinians or people from different religions.”
BEÃTFÓØT - who have found a home among the LGBTQIA+ community - are fighting back against oppression. “We want everybody to come to the party and celebrate life together,” says Naor, setting out his and Bronicki’s mission… “and our goal is to widen that party as wide as it can go.”




c MANIAC ft. Princess Rani

e WHERE HAVE I BEEN ALL MY LIFE ft. Bugle Boy



c MANIAC ft. Princess Rani

[e] WHERE HAVE I BEEN ALL MY LIFE [ft. Bugle Boy]



[c] MANIAC [ft. Princess Rani]

[e] WHERE HAVE I BEEN ALL MY LIFE [ft. Bugle Boy]

Over the last few years upstate NY has been breeding some stone-cold killers in the rap game, and the mysterious natural-born storyteller GREA8GAWD is one of the standout names, turning people’s heads with his cold-blooded rhymes and catching the attention of many legends in the game getting co-signs from the likes of Roc Marciano and Benny The Butcher among many others. Gritty tales of street life viciously delivered over productions by Merc Betz, who curated the entire album with GREA8GAWD himself, as well as Whip Beats, Thanos Beats, Inkwelltwowords, Sypooda, Alcatracks, Agallah, Nomass, Big Skoon, and guest appearances by Hell Rell, Joey Majors and Rellion.

A vulgar display of Metal n Roll

Gothenburg's Bombus returns with their new album, Your Blood, marking the dawn of a fresh musical chapter.
With this album, Bombus ventures down a somewhat different path, yet fans need not worry; the essence of Bombus remains intact.
Your Blood is classic Bombus with a twist-a blend of heavy metal and classic rock, layered with modern elements.

Your Blood is an album where Bombus successfully melds their past heaviness with a new, melodic edge.
It's a testament to their ability to evolve while staying true to their roots.
Prepare for a powerful display of Metal 'n' Roll, as Bombus delivers Your Blood with intensity and purpose.
Let's metal 'n' roll!

A vulgar display of Metal n Roll

Gothenburg's Bombus returns with their new album, Your Blood, marking the dawn of a fresh musical chapter.
With this album, Bombus ventures down a somewhat different path, yet fans need not worry; the essence of Bombus remains intact.
Your Blood is classic Bombus with a twist-a blend of heavy metal and classic rock, layered with modern elements.

Your Blood is an album where Bombus successfully melds their past heaviness with a new, melodic edge.
It's a testament to their ability to evolve while staying true to their roots.
Prepare for a powerful display of Metal 'n' Roll, as Bombus delivers Your Blood with intensity and purpose.
Let's metal 'n' roll!

A vulgar display of Metal n Roll

Gothenburg's Bombus returns with their new album, Your Blood, marking the dawn of a fresh musical chapter.
With this album, Bombus ventures down a somewhat different path, yet fans need not worry; the essence of Bombus remains intact.
Your Blood is classic Bombus with a twist-a blend of heavy metal and classic rock, layered with modern elements.

Your Blood is an album where Bombus successfully melds their past heaviness with a new, melodic edge.
It's a testament to their ability to evolve while staying true to their roots.
Prepare for a powerful display of Metal 'n' Roll, as Bombus delivers Your Blood with intensity and purpose.
Let's metal 'n' roll!

A vulgar display of Metal n Roll

Gothenburg's Bombus returns with their new album, Your Blood, marking the dawn of a fresh musical chapter.
With this album, Bombus ventures down a somewhat different path, yet fans need not worry; the essence of Bombus remains intact.
Your Blood is classic Bombus with a twist-a blend of heavy metal and classic rock, layered with modern elements.

Your Blood is an album where Bombus successfully melds their past heaviness with a new, melodic edge.
It's a testament to their ability to evolve while staying true to their roots.
Prepare for a powerful display of Metal 'n' Roll, as Bombus delivers Your Blood with intensity and purpose.
Let's metal 'n' roll!

A vulgar display of Metal n Roll

Gothenburg's Bombus returns with their new album, Your Blood, marking the dawn of a fresh musical chapter.
With this album, Bombus ventures down a somewhat different path, yet fans need not worry; the essence of Bombus remains intact.
Your Blood is classic Bombus with a twist-a blend of heavy metal and classic rock, layered with modern elements.

Your Blood is an album where Bombus successfully melds their past heaviness with a new, melodic edge.
It's a testament to their ability to evolve while staying true to their roots.
Prepare for a powerful display of Metal 'n' Roll, as Bombus delivers Your Blood with intensity and purpose.
Let's metal 'n' roll!

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

2024 Reissue

The syndicate manifests its sonic potential in full glory. Giving rise to this collection of colossal heavyweights, Sentry demonstrates its spotless record of selecting certified heavyweights for the discography once again, twenty-fold. Stepping into the ring are some of the scene's most prolific artists alongside a plethora of promising, choice newcomers.

Boasting more than an hour of supercharged sound system pressure with names like Caspa, Truth, Bukez Finezt, Nomine and Youngsta himself on the controls - the subsequent inferno proves to be an authoritative display of quality bass music, that is sure to reach roaring stacks of speakers all around the globe for years to come."

"Vintage flavours transmute into fiery low-end excursions in 'Sun Ra' as Onhell reigns with fire and brimstone and makes way for what's to come. Rolling on, Taso lays waste with dimly lit half-time flows as we enter the smoke-filled mansion of Argo's meticulously crafted 'Since Then' - a prime cut of hip-hop infused breakbeats and bass.

Abstrakt Sonance & Substance set the heater into overdrive and blunts aflame as we proceed into the shelling of 207's 'Gypsy Dub' - then promptly being crunched to bits by 'Crocodile' - encapsulating Dayzero's cold-blooded dance floor armaments. Brace yourself for battle as we step to the drums of Caspa's tribal warfare, full-frontal assault engineered for the club.

Unrestrained power surges propelling us onwards in Coltcut & Ourman's decidedly high-grade collaboration as listeners march through Khiva's haunting sound system belter 'Teeth' and a zealous dosage of Dubstep as envisioned by Truth. Led through eerie alleys and pressure-ridden environments with LSN on the buttons, the onslaught proceeds with the relentlessly driving 'R U Broke' in Mr. K's signature style.

Opus merciless injects straight fury in an auditory form in the spiked 'Lime Pickle' - Bukez Finezt keeping pace with a murderous Cembalo-ridden thug anthem, lunacy! Minimal instrumentation to its fullest effect, Sukh Knight's 'Modulate' keeps it spicy - as does the claustrophobic sub-bass chiming by Leftlow. Thanom ignites what's left of the residual air in 'Tumble It' - dangerous goods.

The subsequent time bomb armed by A:Grade & Feonix, cast into the abyss that is Nomine's space-bending 'Judas' - big speaker business. The clock strikes its final hour - Youngsta & Cimm finish off the survivors with a no-holds-barred showdown, the 'Last Judgement' executing its massive verdict.

In the age of streaming platforms and social media, stimulation is easy to come by. Real pleasure, however_the kind that feeds our soul rather than draining it_is in shockingly short supply. The second LP by THUS LOVE is full of that kind of nourishing euphoria. It swoons, shakes, and swaggers with a combination of grit and sensuality that's been hard to locate in music lately. It's called, fittingly, All Pleasure. The album came out of a period of dizzying growth and transformation for the group. When they began work on it, vocalist/guitarist Echo Mars and drummer Lu Racine were still reeling from the runaway success of their 2022 debut Memorial_a set of lush, elegant post-punk that brought praise from The FADER, the NME, and the Guardian_along with processing the departure of the founding bassist. With All Pleasure, the band re-formed with new bassist Ally Juleen and guitarist/keyboardist Shane Blank. The group convened in a barn in the woods that Mars had transformed into a recording studio, and kept one rule at the forefront: "If it's not joyful, don't do it." What emerged from that mission is a stunningly gorgeous album, full of big, arcing melodies and a range of kinky stylistic twists that will surprise listeners who know the group just for Memorial's chorus-drenched 80s-style psychedelia. "Birthday Song" gives grungy glam rock with a transcendent hook that underlines Echo's lyrical tribute to communal joy. "Get Stable" transmutes existential panic into sharp-angled punk pop. The anthemic title track is something like the album's mission statement, paying tribute to the power of joyful creation. Mixed by Matthew Hall and Rich Costey and mastered by Bob Weston, All Pleasure was recorded as live as possible, capturing the sheer infectious ecstasy that comes from sharing space together and making a divine racket. Put on All Pleasure, tap into the energy that THUS LOVE is putting out, and you just might find an escape.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"