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Julia Wolf ist eine einzigartige Künstlerin, eine genreübergreifende Geschichtenerzählerin und eine Inspiration für Musikfans, Trendsetter und Musikkollegen gleichermaßen. Ihre Reise ist eine lebendige Erzählung von Verletzlichkeit, Wachstum, Experimentierfreudigkeit und menschlicher Erfahrung. Julias digitales Debütalbum ""Good Thing We Stayed"" (2023) verband eindringlich schöne Vocals und gefühlvolles Songwriting mit Trap-inspirierten Popmelodien. Mit ihrer neuen, auch physischen LP ""PRESSURE"" samt der Single ""In My Room"" kehrt die Künstlerin aus Long Island wieder zu ihren Rockwurzeln zurück, zeigt ihre vielseitige Kunstfertigkeit und Missachtung konventioneller Grenzen. Julias Bindung zu ihrem Publikum geht über die Musik hinaus; ihre Texte finden eine so tiefe Resonanz, dass Fans sie oft in Tattoos verewigen, während sie auf Spotify auf über 2 Millionen monatliche Hörer bauen kann.

First released on August 18, 2023, "Outline of Nature" started as an experiment in building a modular synthesizer system and ended up as a voltage controlled outpouring of love for the natural world. Sylvan-born and pastoral-powered, sap-blooded and lightning-charged, this album grew out of the damp florescent corners of the woods, each note and sound, a fractal extension of their seedling sounds. It was nurtured into being at The Twilight Research Centre, a studio facility situated on the border of Somerset and Dorset. During Covid lockdown 1.0, I spent the outdoor hours we were permitted, wandering through the centre's surroundings, in the green lanes, woodlands and corridors of the wilds with their wary and flickering inhabitants, beneath the distant eyes of the soaring buzzards and the hulking red kites. I didn't expect it, but it was in the quiet, ferociously vibrant dens of nature, that I found a deeply profound connection with the natural world. It once again made sense to feel as much a part of the woods as the trees were; I felt like a natural entity in its habitat again, not something I'd properly felt since running wild through the gullies, dells and fells of the Midlands as a child. And I became afflicted with a powerful urge to build strange electronic sound systems that were organic, chaotic, fractal and in some way reflective of the awesome natural systems that surround us and surround the centre. I plugged in the modular, and went searching for signs of life. Adding to this, just before the lockdowns, I stumbled across a three volume nature encyclopedia in a local charity shop, called "Outline of Nature in the British Isles" by Sir John Hammerton. The sub-heading reads "A Comprehensive Photo-Survey of the Varied Life of Field and Hedgerow, Moor and Mountain, River, Pond and Sea", and it's a stunning collection of grainy photographs, beautiful illustrations and wondrously poetic writing, some of which inspired track titles and of course, the album title. I also rekindled my love of Ladybird nature books such as the "What to Look for in Spring/Summer/Autumn/Winter" series, "Birds and How They Live" and "Butterflies, Moths and Other Insects", rebuilding a small collection I had as a child and discovering numerous volumes new to me. Between the two literary sources, I had a rich well of imagery, writing and pastoral nostalgia to draw from; and coupled with the extended sessions of blissing out in my own heavily ecstatic awe descended on me in the sheer grandness of the wilderness, I set about enticing out of the woods an album of phosphorescent electrical music, abundant with comparatively microscopic, but persistent and wild life-forces.

Jennifer Touch release her next LP 'Aging at Airports' on Fabrika Records. The idea for the record title came before the music even existed as Touch was spending an increasing amount of time in airports while touring. In her own words: "It felt like I waste a large part of my life waiting for the next show to come, to entertain and perform my music and build timeless moments with others. This waiting, the slowly ticking time at the gate, was in complete contrast to what I want to do as an artist: to be in flux, to create things that will last forever. The airport, as a busy hub, was like a symbol of this ambivalence. And a reminder: every second, whether waiting or on the move, I have to accept that I am fading, that my creative power, my face, and my body are fading. As a (performing) artist, everything feels like a strange contrast. While you want to stay true to yourself and speak authentically from the soul, you are also expected to appear forever young, and powerful. Artists are often wanted to distract people, but creating this art forces me to confront my own transience. I feel the struggle to fit into this powerful artificial framework that the world has set and the desire to break free from it."

Sticking a dirty thumb in the eye of fate, our third collaboration sees this marrow deep family malarky turn official as Pace Yourself teams up with YS’s own imprint ERF REC for a split release. As if our status as minor celebrities and footnotes of the underground could level off no further: the unification no one asked for is here. Sticking it to the man, handing your arse to ya on plate; cauterising infected suburban minds world over.

Burn is the second YS album and written as a direct follow-up album to Brutal Flowers. If their first album was an exercise in the incremental, a construction of poise and patience, Burn, should be taken way the fuck at it’s word: it quite literally finds catharsis in twisted reverse. Birthed out the malignant kick found in deconstruction and chaos. Evil twin, psychotic younger sibling, call it what the hell you like. It might take you a moment to get the lay of the land in this darkly mutated world. Like a bug eye’d native first confronted with a zippo, the hit is radical and instant: a new way for the world to go up in smoke.

Splice the Seattle slacker scene with the spliffhead soundsystem culture of the 90s Bristol trip-hop scene, then cross-breed that with the DIY optimism and glee in creation found in the cut-and-paste worlds of skate, graffiti and hiphop, now run that through the skitzo basement mind of John.T. Gast and you’re close to the kind of scorched earth and spiked suburbia that birthed Burn.

Dunno quite what YS have been ingesting of late but this massively twisted LP touches on a host of gloriously fucked totemic underground sources while not sounding much like any of them. It has the ballsy swagger and hard flipping of the script as Massive Attack’s seminal Blue Lines. Indeed, the eponymous album tracks sound similar - the opener ‘Burn’ is like a hard nosed jammed out redux of ‘Blue Lines’. Getting into a kind of slow-spinning overdubbed maximal euphoria ending with mumbled downer vocals, struggling to conceal their tongues in their cheeks there’s an air of paranoia and proto-conspiracy theory. It’ll leave you scratching your head, feeling like you’ve stepped into a New World Order governed by a cacophony of drop outs, dope fiends and apocalyptic stoners. A cracked out world somewhere between Richard Linklater’s movie Slacker (1990) and Marc Singer’s Dark Days (2001).

The rest of the album parts like a tongue on a wine glass: Smith and Mighty, Bandulu, ambient Luke Slater records, Wah Wah Wino, Nurse with Wound, Land of the Loops, Placid Angels, Adrian Sherwood, Urban Tribe and DJ Shadow can all be heard in momentary splatters - but Burn like other works by YS, is its own ritual beast. ‘Moth’, a track which has been knocking about the underground deejai circuit for many moons, is a real raw chopped and screwed slice of stoner erotica that reeks of obsession and unrequited desire. Elsewhere, on tracks like ‘Switch’, ‘Trying’ and ‘Drift’ the throughline from Brutal Flowers can be heard. Underneath the driving heavy gravity the trademark emotional intimacies of YS linger: eternal recurrence, ghosts of static and shortwave, worn memories of the playful and painful sort. The brief moments where flashes of orchestral ambience get out from underneath the swagger are so pure, personal and unguarded that for a moment they leave you completely lonesome. In the album’s closer ‘End’, you can hear the fleeting promise and DIY possibilities of an analogue world and embers of ash that flutter in its wake: where it seemed, for a brief moment, that collective of DJs, engineers, rappers, graffiti artists and skate crews were emerging from the streets, giving the middle fingers to the system, before just as quickly disappearing back to the doldrums of obscurity. ‘End’ is a bittersweet ode to early soundsystem culture, MCs and pirate radio - an out of step time where for a moment the underdogs and weirdos seemed to be kicking on the door of something bigger.

A veritable teenage doof suite dosed with desire, claustrophobia and deviance. Burn is a good old howl at the moon: lonely, raw, and out for blood; basement style exegesis at its best. A thump to the gut, a stud through your blood. A dubbed-to-death classic straight out of the annals of nowhere. A perfect post card from oblivion. A bleak, bold and personally ferocious vision of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

This is everything that record collectors skip dates for. Fuck the scene and keep that shit underground. That’s what it is all about. Know what I mean, if you do? You’re in…

Released in 1985, Misplaced Childhood includes the hit single ‘Kayleigh’, hit #1 in the UK and stayed in the charts for 41 weeks. As the band’s first concept album, Misplaced Childhood explores themes of lost love, sudden success, acceptance and the fading innocence of youth.

180g, turquoise vinyl. Perhaps the hardest thing about Soul music is convincing. If the place and the experiences don't somehow shine through and meet us, we risk missing out on what's on offer completely. "But first_ are you experienced?" as Jimi Hendrix asked. That's precisely why Soul music is difficult in Sweden. There are few who can portray their experiences in music in a way as convincing as in the Black US Soul tradition. This however seems almost provocatively easy for Bror Gunnar Jansson to do. On the album People, it's as if he pours both lyrics and melodies that have grown slowly in life and that come naturally if you grow up on the right soil. And on almost every song, it only takes a few bars for Bror Gunnar Jansson & The Escapism to show who their musical relatives are. Although Gunnar seems to move freely in musical landscapes ruled by the greats of seventies soul from Al Green, Curtis Mayfield and Aretha Franklin, as well as in some of the fringes of blues and jazz territory, both he and drummer and producer Christopher Cantillo explain that the album has took a long time brewing. And that what may appear obvious and simple has sprung out of a friendship that spans more than half of their lives.

The Belgian leading punk band The Kids, founded by Ludo Mariman, made their debut in 1978 with their landmark titleless album, surely deserving to be part of the global top list of great seventies punk albums. After another four studio albums, the band called it a day... only to resurface a good ten years later, at the end of the 1990s. Since then, The Kids have become an international cult punk band, much in demand in Belgium and abroad (USA, Germany, France, Italy, Japan…), mainly focusing on their initial seventies punk repertoire, with many classic songs that have effortlessly survived the ravages of time.

The Kids are still the most angry Belgian band, which says a lot about the eagerness and sharpness of Ludo Mariman and his mates. The Kids, for sure, still are an absolute top band!

"Flabbergasted" was recorded early 2001 at the AB Club in Brussels and released the following year on CD, which sold out quickly. Starman Records issued the album in 2015, making it available on vinyl for the very first time, with restored audio and entirely new artwork. Sold out long ago, it was followed by a second print run in 2023 on limited colored vinyl. An album you can’t miss—sharp as a razor blade and containing many of The Kids' classics, along with a couple of contemporary punk covers. The band still tours actively and will celebrate, in 2026, their 50th anniversary.

Die genreübergreifenden Tropical Fuck Storm präsentieren ihr mit Spannung erwartetes viertes Album "Fairyland Codex" auf ihrem neuen Label Fire Records. Aufgenommen mit Co-Produzent Michael Beach im Dodgy Brothers Studio der Band in Nagambie, Australien, lassen uns die Songs auf "Fairyland Codex" in das Chaos eines schicksalhaften Erdrutsches eintauchen und die Charaktere herauspicken, die den drohenden Zusammenbruch der Gesellschaft besudeln. Sauer, bissig, anarchisch: Tropical Fuck Storm beherrschen das Wortspiel, das durch knurrende Gitarren, pulsierende Rhythmen und explosive Salven unterstrichen wird, und bevölkern ein Hinterland zwischen Licht und Dunkelheit. Das stimmliche Zusammenspiel zwischen Liddiard und den hochfliegenden Harmonien von Kitschin und Dunn schafft einen schwankenden Balanceakt, der durch die verzweifelten Erzählungen, die sich aus ihrer kollektiven Psyche entwickeln, noch verstärkt wird. Tropical Fuck Storm entstand, als The Drones - die vorherige Band von Gitarrist und Sänger Gareth Liddiard und Bassistin und Sängerin Fiona Kitschin - 2016 in eine Pause ging. Zusammen mit der Gitarristin, Keyboarderin und Sängerin Erica Dunn und der Schlagzeugerin Lauren Hammel hat die Gruppe eine Reihe von der Kritik gefeierten Alben veröffentlicht und sich einen Ruf für ihre aufrüttelnden Live-Shows erworben. Magenta farbenes Vinyl.

Originally out as a free Net-7inch on Jahtari in 2008 to pay respects at the shrine of arcade machine fighting games, these undying hiphop-infused martial arts Dubs by disrupt are finally reaching their intended destination: white blood-splattered 7inch vinyl (attention: not actual blood!).

"Samurai Showdown" (which eventually became Solo Banton's classic "Kung Fu Master", from his Music Addict EP in 2010) is taking place at sunrise, of course, when two master swordsmen are matching blades in a battle to the death. Can the wave-cutting technique of the Jahtari-school prevail?

The B-side is the meditation after the battle, mentally re-creating the epic struggle move by move and in slow motion...
So draw your Katana and prepare for beats as sharp as a battle sword, deadly moves of Ninja swiftness and basslines coming straight from the six paths of hell.

Gastr del Sol"s second album returns at last to the vinyl format - its first physical manifestation in well over a decade. Once again, a drop of the needle may ignite any number of queries, summed simply in one: What IS this music? Such is the potent energy of Crookt, Crackt, or Fly, retaining its otherworldly qualities some 32 years and countless musical movements since. Crookt, Crackt, or Fly expands upon The Serpentine Similar"s minimalist stance in unexpected ways, imposing further austerity in the soundscape but for an unpredictable expansive quantity periodically overflowing, waves of blood sluicing through the elevator doors. This is partially due to a change within the group dynamic: the departure of bassist Ken "Bundy" Brown and the arrival of a new partner for guitarist and singer David Grubbs - guitarist and sound fuckerer Jim O"Rourke. O"Rourke"s initial work with Gastr involved editing and recomposing recordings of the Grubbs-Brown-&-sometimes-John-McEntire lineup, producing an utterly outré collage of cut-ups and other types of tape processing. This became the "20 Songs Less" single, after which he was invited to play with the group. It was a time of flux; Brown recalls playing a Gastr show at the Metro around this time featuring himself, John McEntire, Grubbs and O"Rourke - and one of the pieces played was a Tortoise song! Throughout these shifts, Gastr del Sol"s music was never less than fully considered and composed, even in moments redolent with the suggestion of the random and the non-sequitur. Grubbs and O"Rourke made no attempt to replicate Serpentine"s arrangement of thick, scaly drones and hypnotic song-visions in their own partnership, finding Crookt, Crackt,"s sound instead in spiny, gamelan-like interactions between their (mostly acoustic) guitars, played precisely in and out of formation with bright, fleet-fingered abandon. O"Rourke"s fondness for field recordings and his capacity for tape manipulation intersected with Grubbs" sensibilities, edifying his evolving song style: written with increased sharpness and sly surreal humor, sung closer to silence. Halfway into "Work from Smoke", the sudden collapse of the sound-walls around us signals Crookt, Crackt"s major departure. From the thicket of guitars, a swell of drones and free-jazz squeals, made up of bass clarinet, vibraphone and organ, pulls the listener into an entirely other acoustic space. "Every Five Miles" derails in similarly tactile fashion: a guitar duet boils up thunderously, then fragments and spirals apart. As a free electric guitar part crops up, improbably holding the center, the acoustic space around it continues to disintegrate in ambient stereo. A wedding of folk music idioms to classical, improvised and modern compositional modes (including Gastr"s own formative post-punk mode), Crookt, Crackt, or Fly is a song-based reality steadily giving way to its alternative alchemies playing out within.