Buscar:bloom

With Scream If You Don’t Exist, Richie Culver metamorphoses from outsider musician to underground fixture, feeling his way from the fringes towards a growing community of musicians that have gravitated towards his singular sound world. Building upon the stark catharsis of his previous dispatches, on his sophomore album the artist draws from grimdark drone, industrial noise, experimental hip-hop and UK rave to map out a space for himself, caught between genre and discipline. While on his debut, I Was Born By The Sea, Culver took a last glimpse back at his grey, salt-flecked past while struggling towards somewhere brighter, here, he documents the process of finding fresh waters, parsing through the complexity of inhabiting a more open and optimistic place while contending with the weight of his resolve, staring hard won self-acceptance in the face. The album’s title speaks to this creative and emotional work, serving both as the foundational paradox from which the artist’s new discordant sound emerges and as a call to action, a defiant cry in the face of existential angst.

Part of this process involves visiting familiar territory with renewed focus. Macabre opener ‘Hottest Day Of The Year’ signals an unpleasant memory with crow caw, queasy, gas leak ambience and dental drill whir as Culver recalls a life lived in nihilism: “Everything is just something that happened / Reductionism, muscles spasms, a mother’s first contraction.” Yet, on Scream If You Don’t Exist, Culver’s irresistible formula for ragged machine poetry is shot through with palpable urgency. No longer listless and despairing, he finds new intricacies for these compositions, tracing a stark interplay between crushing bass excavations and penetrating vocal clarity, a contrast picked out in the delicate threads of rhythmic pulse suggesting themselves in the blunt pressure and skittering creep of ‘Weakness’, on which Culver offers up vulnerability as a tentative solution to self-described emotional constipation: “Please do / Do take my kindness for weakness / For I am weak / And that is ok.” The amniotic soundscape of ‘YOLO (then u die)’ gives way to depth charge drone and unnerving machinic improvisations, like a noise show heard from deep in the Mariana trench, while on ‘Underground Flower’ the low-end fog lifts to reveal a brighter, colder scene. “Love me for who I could be / Not who I am,” he pleads, tending gently to his own tenacious bud.

Scream If You Don’t Exist gives us a glimpse of this flower in bloom. On the album’s cursed self-help tape title track stuttering loops of off-kilter keys and childlike repetition make light of the very real risk of disappearing all-together, a nervous breakdown rendered as a malfunctioning nursery rhyme. Paranoiac anthem ‘Say 4 Sure’ introduces bit-crushed boom-bap stomp, as though hammered out on a water-logged Game Boy, swarms of loose-wire noise sparking up against guttural grunts and ragged exhalations, while ‘On The Top’ enacts a seance for the hardcore spirit, with loops of rave piano and hiccuping vocal chops pirouetting through knackered samples, air raid sirens and the ghostly crash of breakbeat cymbals. As though in response to the solitary nature of much of his musical exploration, this time, the artist invites other voices into the world of Scream If You Don’t Exist. On ‘Swollen’, the unflinching, brimstone prophecy of Billy Woods sounds clear through an expanse of spirallic bass, preaching the same frayed gospel as Culver when he issues the quietly devastating contemporary diagnosis: “Computer broke but it still works for now / That’s the best you can say for most of us anyhow,” while another fearless correspondent from the fringes, Moor Mother, brings earthbound heft to the ambient drift and obliterating barrage of ‘Restaurants,’ teasing out meaning with elongated intonation and pitch-shifted intensity.

It’s during the album’s most meditative moments that we might recognise this space Culver has found for himself for what it really is. ‘OMG They’re Gone’ follows a chopped and slowed monologue from Culver’s wife, who works as a death doula, reflecting on her own experiences with grief and the reality of living within a culture both terrified and ignorant of the process. Floating over glistening ebb, etherised croons and luminous chimes, her words stand as a prescient reminder of the power of ephemerality. Just as Culver flourishes in imperfection, here we can find enormous strength in transcience. But it’s with ‘Just Jump In,’ which unfurls like a buoyant counterpart to the sparkling oil rigs of ‘I was born by the sea’, that Culver illuminates the hopeful waters we realise we’ve been making our steady way towards. “I know now / That you loved me,” he admits, a revelation a lifetime in the making. Through the rawest reflection Culver has found a way forward, driven by an optimism drawn from a resolve to be better, to love and be loved, an admission to weakness and the discovery of a new kind of strength. “Don’t test the water,” he reassures us and himself, “just jump in.”

Scream If You Don’t Exist will be released in November 2023 by Participant, on limited edition vinyl, and digital download . The release will be accompanied by a series of films directed by Mau Morgo, Josiane M.H Pozi, William Markarian-Martin, Simon Bus, and Bruxism.

Circular patterns morphing through time, loop and ritual form the fabric of Proserpine, the latest work by Leeds-based musician, Teresa Winter. Recorded from a summer to a winter through 2021 and 2022, Proserpine is Winter's most cohesive, focused music to date: confidently revelling in space, fixating on isolated sounds and giving way to satisfying, swirling waves of vocal and electronic buzz. Proserpine is Teresa Winter's debut recording for Glasgow-based label, Night School.

On Proserpine, musical patterns revolve and intersect with each other, transmogrifying the music's narrative. Over-arching themes emerge: continual change, elusiveness. Insubstantiality emerges into concrete reality in the form of recognisable field recordings: the purring of a pet cat, the hum of a live cable. The loops and patterns are sometimes just out of sight, the click and whirl on Child Of Nature is the backdrop to hymnal vocalisations by Winter, who intones spell-like text in conversation with herself. On opener Circles, Winter's vocal is pre-linguistic, detached syllables falling into flowing streams, before Plume's field recordings seem to juxtapose nocturnal and diurnal wildlife. "You said I was a Flower Of The Mountain" sings Winter, as James Joyce's Molly Bloom does but the carpe diem desire in Ulysses is dissipated here, spread out by gauzy, droning organs. Here desire is blown up and out, changed into something undefinable but no less powerful.

Change is at the heart of the album. The Roman goddess Proserpine, herself a reimagined version of the earlier Greek goddess Persephone, is always between: between summer and winter, the land of the living and the underworld, constantly emerging into new states of being. It's a fitting metaphor for Winter's work. Like an Apple feels like it soundtracks this in-between state, long, trailing reverb smudging synth keys and Winter's achingly beautiful vocal performance. The effect is stirring but flitting in and out of perception, sometimes Winter's presence feels of this world, of musical instruments and practises and at others it feels like the music is about to phase into a different plane, a different universe.

While Proserpine references the myths and cults of the classical, pre-Christian era, Winter's restless preoccupation with the mechanics of religion informs the album in other ways. Ritual is present through out, either in the mantra-like vocalisations or even the private rituals we are invited to witness: on Fireworks the listener eave drops into the protagonist's private bonfire. On the stunning Lamento, layers of Choral vocal interlock in celestial patterns that recall catholic mass: it's an overt effect that simulates the ecstasy of religious fervour and also reminds the listener of the use of vocal that runs through Proserpine. Winter's vocals often echo with the euphoria of obliteration, of disintegrating in an awful bliss. It's an effect achieved with finality by the closer New Water as the piece begins with voice before burning up in the atmosphere of elegiac violins and enveloping undertows of whirring synth patterns and ghostly pads. Proserpine is forever turning, changing, always elusive and quietly revelatory.

There are few instruments more uniquely suited to capturing the beauty and ennui of the rural American midwest than the acoustic steel-string guitar. In the hands of a master, the range of evocable emotion and experience is truly limitless. Daniel Hecht is one such master. His 1973 self-released debut album, simply titled Guitar, is an indispensable piece of the endless puzzle that is instrumental Guitar Soli music.

Guitar was written and recorded while Hecht was living and working on a commune in Madison, Wisconsin. In between harvesting his own food and studying the music of Andrés Segovia and Mississippi John Hurt, Hecht found himself playing host to legendary itinerant street performer, Moondog.

On Moondog’s insistent urging, Daniel decided to record some of his recent guitar compositions. Released on his own Dragon’s Egg imprint, Guitar fused Hecht’s complex classical preoccupations with his country folk influences. The album eventually found a fan with guitar godhead, John Fahey, who eventually helped land Hecht on the eminent new age/ instrumental label, Windham Hill.

As Hecht’s playing and composition grew in complexity, he found peership with labelmates like Michael Hedges, William Ackerman, and Alex DeGrassi. But it is his debut album that remains the greatest document of Hecht’s talent and ambition in first bloom. A rolling, blissful trip through rural America, guided by the ambitious hand of a guitar master. Morning Trip is elated to release this gorgeous and seminal document of acoustic exploration on vinyl for the first time since its initial 1973 offering.

Die-cut sleeve. In the fall of 2013 Bry Webb was putting the finishing touches on his second album Free Will. Released on May 20th 2014, Bry, with his newly assembled band The Providers, spent the following few years traversing North America playing clubs, festivals and storied stages such as Toronto’s Massey Hall. Nothing new for an artist who had spent the aughts in a constant state of motion with Constantines, a band who on average had performed one of every three nights on a stage somewhere in the world. In fact, running in parallel to Bry’s solo touring schedule was a reunion with his former Constantines’ bandmates to once again present their incendiary live show and celebrate the 11th anniversary reissue of the band’s Shine A Light. It is what happened as the decade wound down that seemed out of character for an artist who had spent close to 20 years immersed in the studio and on the stage: the music stopped altogether. Bry explains his feelings at that time, “I lost the musical plot about 5 years ago and stopped playing music entirely, sold instruments and recording equipment, and committed myself to the idea that I was absolutely done”. Webb dedicated himself to his ongoing work in community radio, months turned to years and musical life seemed to be all but gone from view. Now in an unexpected turnaround 10 years on from the recording of his last studio album, there is not only a return to the stage for Bry but also a new record. Primarily composed in a season of upheaval, Run With Me contains some of Bry’s rawest sentiments. Fresh and painfully present there is an immediacy one can hear as emotional walls collapse in real time. Bry explains the context of the album’s creation: “In early 2023 my personal life exploded. In the process of dealing with that, I started writing music again and started recording at home. Advised that I needed to figure out how to ask for, and accept, help from other people, I sent early recordings of songs to friends from twenty-five years of music making - many folks I hadn’t connected with in years - and asked if they’d contribute anything to the songs. People came through in ways that overwhelmed me to the point that I cried when I wrote out the list of players for the liner notes. I felt incredibly cared for. From Andy Magoffin, who recorded the first Constantines album in 1999, to members of the Cons, to my nieces Addy and Ella playing drums, and a doppler recording of my daughter’s heartbeat, the record is a document of my creative life, and the people who made it possible to make music again.” If the cover of Run With Me looks familiar, it is with full intent. The album’s technicolor marbling and die cut text serve to signal the inclusion of the album in a trilogy started with Bry’s first record Provider. Just as that album starts with the track Asa, this new one introduces itself with the instrumental Webb. The trilogy is now completed with his daughter's first, middle and last names represented as the first tracks on each of the three albums. While the LP’s package signals its place in the collection, and tracks such as Older Than The Dirt and What I Do revisit their predecessor’s familiar sonic starkness, Run With Me is the outlier of the trio. A number of new tracks forego the quietude of Provider and Free Will, clearly recalling the rallying rhythms of Constantines’ anthems. Thunder Bay (instrumental backing courtesy of The Harbourcoats circa 2009), with its insistent kick drum and wall of electrics, support one of Webb’s most indelible melodies, and the not so subtly psychedelic Modern Mind reveal an expansion of Webb’s palette. Perhaps the furthest afield is the contextual centerpiece of the album, Goodbye, where we not only hear a joyful voice that lay dormant for years, but hear it reclaim its power. Backed by Constantines’ Will Kidman, Doug MacGregor and Dallas Wehrle, Bry belts out “I’m through with all the rage, now watch the light pour out of me.” As with all of Bry’s work, Run With Me’s lyrics take their time to settle in. Songs of self-examination, reconfigured love ballads, and songs for those who work to help others. Songs of singing abound. It’s there in Older Than The Dirt’s second verse: "Logic to the last intention, logic in the way we kept holding on forever, singing as the floor- was swept”, ten thousand birds sing a warning song in Thunder Bay and again in Goodbye’s telling of a cathartic return to one’s true self with its celebration of those “Who sing - sing all joy - all joy of language, in a single word”. Joining Bry in singing Run With Me’s songs of “death, transition and hope,” are kindred spirits Jennifer Castle, Julie Doiron, Daniel Romano and Steph Yates. All of these singers elevate the album’s healing sentiments and help express the album’s central plea; a prayer of sorts wrapped in the traditional Scottish Gaelic melody of She Is Here’s second verse: “Let the sun rise in the morning and any witness bring. Let all the blooming cosmos teach us to sing”.

Mount Maxwell returns with another full-length journey into memory, melody, and geography - this time roaming beyond the BC environs of his previous records into a stranger, less knowable country. While still woozily nostalgic in the vein of Only Children and The People’s Forest, this outing feels more exploratory and wide ranging in scope, with a denser mixture of influences at play. The somnambulistic drift of Sea of Milk sets the stage with a series of wavering synth pulses that push us languidly toward land, eventually setting us down on the sands of Maze Crete, where a shadowy latticework of hand drums, flutes and synths await. From there we ascend to the aptly named Sky Eye, a rolling mixture of acoustic beats and analog string machines that gives us our first bird’s eye view of the album’s landscape. A Long Road pushes the acoustic instrumentation further, with shimmering tambourine marking time for a collection of hand drums and shakers, while Ages summons up an occult-like dream of glacial arpeggios and whispering synths. Slow Moves and Tree Motion float effortlessly along on beds of lazy congas and woodblocks before finally giving way to the title track - a heady juggernaut of distorted synths and trundling rhythms that propels us through the album’s second half like a locomotive through darkening hills. Drawing the record to a close, the gently repeating keyboard phrase of Mist blooms unexpectedly into a rainbow of human voices before evaporating into the oceanic swells of Hi Traveller. And there Littlefolk leaves us as it found us; adrift in a rolling sea.

This is a presentation of Xexa's different sensibilities as a composer, musician and sound designer, mapping what are in effect her initial explorations with voice, rhythms, synths, ambience, ever searching for an organic final result. As a student at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama (London) between 2019 and a still fresh 2023, she presented in her third year a portfolio that included what we can now listen as "Clarinet Mood", the final track on "Vibrações De Prata". Her intention was to «study the feeling of listening to music as an environment one inhabits and not as a sound that follows you throughout the day. Walk into, instead of listening to, an ambience». With no previous clarinet training, Xexa explores its palpable sound as a physical doorway to this realm.

Four other tracks ("Assim", "Nha Dêdê", "Fragmented Breath" and "Prendes Nh'Alma") formed part of what she named the 2021 Sound Calendar. Out of a (natural) total of 12 compositions, these four connect with other intimate moments to tell a broader story, one of fragility, «like a flower about to bloom, we can detect first glimpses of colour and form but can't yet divine its final form».

This sort of imaginative sonic micro-management can also be found on "Libelula", where the synth attempts to recreate the beating of a dragonfly's wings. Minute details are a major feature in jewelry, an art Xexa studied in her native Lisbon's António Arroio school. Free spirited as she is, Lisbon is merely a geographical location where she was born, no particular feeling of being Portuguese attached to her position in the world. So far, Xexa's origins in São Tomé and Príncipe and a prolonged stint in London (it feels prolonged, at such a young age) are the two other major environments that form her experience as a human being but also as an artist. We are extremely proud to have been able to access truly special creative, intimate moments and help bring out into the world this physical manifestation of beautiful contemporary music.

Prozpektiva reaches its fifth release so far, and on this special occasion, we are proud to present the rising talent from Ukraine - Aliana.

With a remarkable debut on Variable Records in 2021, swiftly followed by a standout LP (an album for only her second release) for Finest Hour, and a series of co-produced tracks under the alias Midibasics, Aliana now brings us her latest four-track solo EP. Get ready for dubby grooves, plenty of swing, and some serious heads-down action.

Legendary UK dance act return with their first new album in over a decade

House music would sound very different without the work of X-Press 2. For the last three decades, they have been serving up a broad spectrum of music ranging from catchy, to anthemic, to moody and atmospheric.

Having won an Ivor Novello award for their hit ‘Lazy’ (feat. David Byrne), and even had their music synced by fashion house Givenchy, they have always showed evolution, shown in their 4 previous studio albums having set the tone with singles ‘You Know (Everybody)’ and ‘Muse’, anticipation is growing for this special double LP

Roots run deep on "Candid', the first LP by Munich-based producer Polygonia and drummer Simon Popp. The record is a perfect blend of their distinct voices, with Popp's drumset and his signature percussion sounds buzzing around Polygonia's bold and blooming productions.

Comprised of live material recorded at Munich's ZIRKA in late 2022 and over several studio sessions in-between touring duties, 'Candid' is a meadow of herbal Electronic, mystic at times, but joyful nonetheless.

London based multidisciplinary artist and DAYTIMERS internal team member Zar (Arun) is returning once again in 2023, this time on The Tabula Rasa Record Company, to release his second EP: “Unfurl”.

It is the next expression of progression in sound for Zar, a movement further into, above and beyond the foundations laid down from his debut EP “Practice Makes Miracles” - which was listed on Bandcamps’ “Best Electronic Music of March 2023” and described by DJ Mag as “a striking solo debut that sets Zar out as an exciting prospect in the sphere of electronic composition.”

Sitting at that murky midpoint between UK Garage, Tech-House & Bass, the songs literally bloom outwardly, wrapping around the listener leaving trails of familiarity, and feature the tendrils of earworm worthy melodies that strike a balance between serene, uplifting, dense and thoughtful, all whilst resting upon deep thumping drums, clever vocal sampling and unconventional song structures. As a follow up to an already ambitious debut EP, Unfurl is an incredibly full-filling listen.

Take the 101 north out of Los Angeles, and you'll pass by Agoura Hills, where the core duo of the band Dub Thompson grew up. Whatever you see in that town won't readily prepare you for the music they wrote while there, but you're free to look."Most everyone who's in a group who's our age lives on the Internet," says guitarist Matt Pulos. "The kinds of things that have shaped our band aren't anchored to any one time or place."Pulos and his bandmate, drummer Evan Laffer, are currently both 19 years old, and are putting that line of thought to the test; their musical influences travel from the Midwestern malaise of Big Black and Pere Ubu, to Kraut pioneers Can and Kraftwerk, while bowing to the British belligerence of The Fall and This Heat.Recording the album while living with Foxygen's Jonathan Rado at his rented house in Bloomington, the band had its first taste of a heavy Indiana summer, and all the humidity and insect life that buzzes along with it. "We woke up every day, ate hard-boiled eggs and stood on a porch," says Pulos of the experience.Their first collection of songs slyly unties the shoes of genre and convention, shapeshifts mischievously, and tramples on the promises delivered on the name itself.There are only eight songs on this rangy debut.Intense blasts of hook-filled noise rock ("Hayward!"), rocksteady marionette stomp ("No Time"), hypnotic bouts of doomy poetics ("Epicondyles"), outlandishly sexy groove rock ("Dograces"), and a number of other bite-sized forays into parts unknown are made manifest across 9 Songs. The vibes are strong here. Pulos sings and plays like he's working out long-standing grudges, pulling the most sinewy tones from an acoustic guitar and ripping huge chunks of demon flesh out of his electric. Laffer matches him step for step on the drums, an exacting presence behind the kit who pushes even the band's more placid moments into bouts of tension. Together they succeed in animating their musical ideas to startling, almost unnatural life. Reverb units, keyboards, samples and processing gluing everything together, saturated in the August heat and worn in until they sound second nature, it's like somehow you've been listening to these songs forever.

Flora Yin Wong’s ravishing interiority finds lucid expression on an absorbing second album for Modern Love, manifesting her instrumental storytelling in a syncretic bind of supernatural themes with hyperrealist, concrète sound design.

Through ten parts, Flora crystallises the ennui that followed an uncanny, disorienting trip to East and Southeast Asia. “On an unexpected stopover in Hong Kong after five years away, my friends took me to a Bazi reader one night - something I was curious about, but much of a ritual for them - ” Flora recalls. “My father told me that when I was born, he had obtained an auspicious reading that since stayed like a guiding talisman with me. It was almost past midnight but people were still lined up, rather shaken and visibly upset, to see the old man. He had kind eyes and asked me why I was there and I said I was at a crossroads. He asked me my time and date of birth, and told me to pick one of his four little white canary birds as a vessel for divination.”

This was the final stretch of an ultimately aimless few months across the continent, including a 20 year overdue return with her father to his adoptive family in his hometown Kuala Lumpur - for many reasons, ended up as a strange and uncanny trip. She spent solitude in a haunted house during the quiet snowfall of Kyoto, where she might have offended some spirit... and nights in mountain temples with South Korean monks, and an equally strange feeling return to the Island of the Gods.

“It culminated in what felt like a final disillusionment with Asia - sudden deaths and a breakdown in beliefs - somewhere I never really have or will be able to connect with. The process of the reading summoned a final blow to my gut - an overwhelming sense of rootlessness, and understanding that all there is is emptiness and entropy. No birth-divined protection, just a measurement of the night sky based off nothing and everything.”

Heavy with a sense of nightmarish dissociation and grief, Flora read about Giuseppe Tartini’s ‘Violin Sonata in G Minor’, aka the Devil’s Trill Sonata, a notoriously tricky c.18th composition which attempted to transcribe music heard in a dream, which the composer felt he could never fully bring into reality. It’s this soporific motif that binds and underpins ’Cold Reading’, finding Flora chasing the dragon of fleeting fantasy through passages of etched melancholy, pinched with hypnagogic jerks that linger in the memory.

From her use of the ‘Devil’s Trill’ Sonata in ‘All My Dreams are Nightmares’ through evocations of subtropical humidity in the Bryn Jones-esque, resonant hand-played percussion of ‘Konna’ and ‘Banjar’, to a breathtaking dreampop denouement ‘Nectar Dripping’ and the Enya-like lush of ‘Beautiful Crisis’, Flora blooms her ideas with an openended ambiguity so often missing from so called Ambient music, ushering the listener into a soundworld that disturbs and displaces, just as much as it calms.

Malian and French pair Siraba unveil their much-anticipated self-titled debut LP on Damian Lazarus’ Secret Teachings label, a 10-track odyssey fusing Mali’s rich musical traditions with cutting-edge electronic music.

Malian hunter Boubacar Samake and Damien Vandesande, one half of the French electronic band dOP, have won plenty of plaudits for the early singles taken from their debut album as duo Siraba. Those singles, spanning across the summer months, have found the pair bring the traditional sound of the Wassoulou - a river valley of West Africa - to the electronic world after 20 years of friendship. The music comes with an important underlying message of love and respect and results in spellbinding tracks that move heart, body and soul, finding a perfect home on Secret Teachings - a left-of-centre alternative label to Lazarus’ celebrated and often more club- focused Crosstown Rebels. With the arrival of the full album, the pair exhibit and showcase the emotional breadth and depth of their music, with detailed explorations of organic textures and native sounds merged with future-focused ideas and concepts.

The title track opens with an atmospheric mix of spoken words and spine-tingling chords that bring rich Afro flavours, while ‘Dounoiia’ is a languid groove made from hand drums and pixelated synth leads that cast a fine spell. The slow-blooming ‘Bani’ brings rich Malian blues and melancholic horns, while ‘Komafly’ is a rich mix of acoustic strings and broken beats that transports you to a hot and dusty landscape. A vital component of the sounds of the Wassoulou, the indigenous stringed instrument the Ngoni features again on the rousing ‘Nanse’ as spiritual vocals sung in Bambara rouse the soul.

‘Djandjo’ is another rich infusion of Malian culture with simmering electronics to make for something both ancient sounding yet futuristic, and the hypnotic ‘Ngana Fôlly’ with its rich bass is a song ‘dedicated to those who fight for the well-being of their families, for unity... a song for the people who also fight a great disease, between life and death’. The sublime ‘Toro’ is a wavy groove perfect for sundown - a deep and inviting sound rich in soulful vocals and dreamy melodies, while ‘Tolonawoulile’ is driven by the intense strumming of the Ngoni with busy hand claps and hurried drums and last of all ‘Fo Te Mokobana’ sinks into a heart-warming slow groove with sweeping strings and Malian percussion all overlaid with impassioned vocals.

A rich listening experience, Siraba’s debut album is an immersive journey and absorbing dive into the minds of two artists breaking new grounds while spotlighting native traditions and musical techniques spanning hundreds of years.

Not far off two years from the day, Bristol's Tara Clerkin Trio return to World of Echo and the EP format for a five song collection of quixotic, emotional redolence. But do not mistake their absence for inertia. If their musical output has been a little sparse during those in-between years, limited to a few solo ventures and an astonishing ten minute long piece as a trio, their time has otherwise been richly spent: continuous writing and recording, extensive live performances across Europe and Japan, a cultivation of local and more far-flung artistic connections (musical and otherwise), and a monthly NTS show that, through the voice of others, speaks most obviously to their own unorthodox interests. It's the conflux of that winding activity that leads indirectly to On The Turning Ground, 26 minutes of probing, thoughtful composition that draws from no one specific source.

Their inspirations might be centreless, but the trio still possess a very obvious anchor in the form of their hometown. Bristol stands as a city of multitudes, heterogenous and vibrant in such a way as to allow it to renew and remake time and again. Tara Clerkin Trio drink from that same well, duly reflecting a rich musical heritage built on fwd-facing electronic subcultures and experimental urges. As such, On The Turning Ground finds them subject to their own subtle internal evolution, the pervasive sense that you've caught them mid-bloom, on their way to becoming but never anything but themselves.

The two instrumental pieces that bookend the EP stand as a perfect case in point, displaying an increasing mastery of compositional space. Pensive and restrained, 'Brigstow' and 'Once Around' both emanate an interstitial quality that's not so much after- as in-between-hours, miniature dub-folk symphonies held together by the kind of tacit understanding that remains the preserve of only the closest of family units. If those two tracks are shaped by a sense of shifting temporality, then the three vocal-led pieces that comprise the record's core feel like a gentle ossifying of aesthetic into something approaching their own unique form of avant-pop. 'Pop' is, of course, a broadly subjective concept, but there's no avoiding the overt sparkling melodicism of songs like 'Marble Walls' and 'The Turning Ground', undeniable re-directions of that late 90s impulse to bend pop sensibilities into off-centre terrain, to render the familiar new again. This is what Tara Clerkin Trio do, gently pulling the ground from under your feet, turning you to face something you'd not quite seen before. To view the world as they do: sideways, sometimes, all of the time.

Here's the thing about ill peach: this band exists because they are too weird to not exist. The seed of ill peach was first planted in the recording studios of New York City where Pat Morrissey and Jess Corazza were working together as professional songwriters, collaborating with artists like Icona Pop, SZA, Weezer, Pharrell, Big Freedia, and others. Then came the day they were offered their own publishing deal. Cool, right? Well, about that: "Everyone kept saying, 'The stuff that you're writing is slightly too left-of-center-weirdo stuff," remembers Morrissey. "Why don't you start your own project?" Thus ill peach, a pop band with a punk streak and a taste for both the rotten and the sweet, with an approach to making music that goes something like: "Do you want to pick up a guitar and do you want to be on this water jug and we'll record it on the iPhone and create some weird drum pattern?" Following a series of well-received EPs on their own Pop Can Records (a record label and artist collective Morrissey and close collaborator Jesse Schuster run with friends), a digital single for Hardly Art's 15th anniversary series, and some colorful music videos that crystallized the band's visual aesthetic along with their sound, ill peach's "weirdo stuff" comes to fruition on first full-length THIS IS NOT AN EXIT: a collection of anthemic songs built out of bright pop and gritty experimental elements (Morrissey names the sculptural use of distortion on the final albums by Low as an inspiration), punctuated with hooky choruses ready to be screamed along to in the safety of your own bedroom or with a bunch of friends at one of ill peach's intense live shows. If ill peach first blossomed in New York, it took quarantine in Los Angeles for the project to ripen. The end of the world turned out to be what ill peach needed to get real with themselves. "It helped us creatively to zone in and removed us from the industry side of things to where we could just be like: this is our new identity, let's jump with both feet." THIS IS NOT AN EXIT's title is a reflection of something Corazza realized during a period of personal and familial crises "I kept walking into buildings and I'd try to exit somewhere and the sign would be like, 'This is not an exit,'" she says. "It just felt like a metaphor for a hopeful thing-don't give up yet." This combination of hope and anxiety is all over THIS IS NOT AN EXIT, reflected in a sonic palette (Alternative! Electronica! Indie! Radio pop! Coldplay!) as eclectic as it is unpretentious. Ultimately, THIS IS NOT AN EXIT is a record about healing, a process often spoken about in New Age-y terms but one that in reality can be really confusing and, yes, weird. But it is the beautiful strangeness of being alive that ill peach capture so well on THIS IS NOT AN EXIT.

Repress!

In the mid-1970s, a force of nature swept across the continental United States, cutting across all strata of race and class, rooting in our minds, our homes, our culture. It wasn’t The Exorcist, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, or even bell-bottoms, but instead a book called The Secret Life of Plants. The work of occultist/former OSS agent Peter Tompkins and former CIA agent/dowsing enthusiast Christopher Bird, the books shot up the bestseller charts and spread like kudzu across the landscape, becoming a phenomenon. Seemingly overnight, the indoor plant business was in full bloom and photosynthetic eukaryotes of every genus were hanging off walls, lording over bookshelves, and basking on sunny window ledges. The science behind Secret Life was specious: plants can hear our prayers, they’re lie detectors, they’re telepathic, able to predict natural disasters and receive signals from distant galaxies. But that didn’t stop millions from buying and nurturing their new plants.

Perhaps the craziest claim of the book was that plants also dug music. And whether you purchased a snake plant, asparagus fern, peace lily, or what have you from Mother Earth on Melrose Avenue in Los Angeles (or bought a Simmons mattress from Sears), you also took home Plantasia, an album recorded especially for them. Subtitled “warm earth music for plants…and the people that love them,” it was full of bucolic, charming, stoner-friendly, decidedly unscientific tunes enacted on the new-fangled device called the Moog. Plants date back from the dawn of time, but apparently they loved the Moog, never mind that the synthesizer had been on the market for just a few years. Most of all, the plants loved the ditties made by composer Mort Garson.

Few characters in early electronic music can be both fearless pioneers and cheesy trend-chasers, but Garson embraced both extremes, and has been unheralded as a result. When one writer rhetorically asked: “How was Garson’s music so ubiquitous while the man remained so under the radar?” the answer was simple. Well before Brian Eno did it, Garson was making discreet music, both the man and his music as inconspicuous as a Chlorophytumcomosum. Julliard-educated and active as a session player in the post-war era, Garson wrote lounge hits, scored plush arrangements for Doris Day, and garlanded weeping countrypolitan strings around Glen Campbell’s “By the Time I Get to Phoenix.” He could render the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel alike into easy listening and also dreamed up his own ditties. “An idear” as Garson himself would drawl it out. “I live with it, I walk it, I sing it.”

But as his daughter Day Darmet recalls: “When my dad found the synthesizer, he realized he didn’t want to do pop music anymore.” Garson encountered Robert Moog and his new device at the Audio Engineering Society’s West Coast convention in 1967 and immediately began tinkering with the device. With the Moog, those idears could be transformed. “He constantly had a song he was humming,” Darmet says. “At the table he was constantly tapping.” Which is to say that Mort pulled his melodies out of thin air, just like any household plant would.

The Plantae kingdom grew to its height by 1976, from DC Comics’ mossy superhero Swamp Thing to Stevie Wonder’s own herbal meditation, Journey Through the Secret Life of Plants. Nefarious manifestations of human-plant interaction also abounded, be it the grotesque pods in Invasion of the Body Snatchers or the pothead paranoia of the US Government spraying Mexican marijuana fields with the herbicide paraquat (which led to the rise in homegrown pot by the 1980s). And then there’s the warm, leafy embrace of Plantasia itself.

“My mom had a lot of plants,” Darmet says. “She didn’t believe in organized religion, she believed the earth was the best thing in the whole world. Whatever created us was incredible.” And she also knew when her husband had a good song, shouting from another room when she heard him humming a good idear. Novel as it might seem, Plantasia is simply full of good tunes.

Garson may have given the album away to new plant and bed owners, but a decade later a new generation could hear his music in another surreptitious way. Millions of kids bought The Legend of Zelda for their Nintendo Entertainment System back in 1986 and one distinct 8-bit tune bears more than a passing resemblance to album highlight “Concerto for Philodendron and Pothos.” Garson was never properly credited for it, but he nevertheless subliminally slipped into a new generations’ head, helping kids and plants alike grow.

Hearing Plantasia in the 21st century, it seems less an ode to our photosynthesizing friends by Garson and more an homage to his wife, the one with the green thumb that made everything flower around him. “My dad would be totally pleased to know that people are really interested in this music that had no popularity at the time,” Darmet says of Plantasia’snew renaissance. “He would be fascinated by the fact that people are finally understanding and appreciating this part of his musical career that he got no admiration for back then.” Garson seems to be everywhere again, even if he’s not really noticed, just like a houseplant.

Gingerblack is a dynamic House Music DJ duo better known as Lilly & Kazan. With classic Chicago House beats Gingerblack are bringing sexy grooves back to the dancefloor while their original Lilly & Kazan moniker stands for trippy dj-sets & productions pushing Cosmic Disco and Indie Techno.

The duo has been enchanting dancefloors at renowned clubs and festivals across Europe while co-founding clubs like “Kasette” in Istanbul, “Christa Kupfer” in Berlin and the beach festival “Bloom” on the Mediterranean Sea.

Lilly's promoter expertise and Kazan's two decades of experience in the electronic music scene as a DJ, producer, and promoter make them a multi-discipline force to be reckoned with. The duo is known for spreading unique joy and passion on stage.

Through one of their club nights Lilly & Kazan made friends with „All That Jelly“ label boss Mr. Fonk who became a resident at their club. In „Christa Kupfer“ they also hosted House music legend Robert Owens, playing unforgettable nights with them. It was a match made in heaven!

Now all four of them have collaborated for this 12“ of the purest oldschool House Music, brought to perfection by the flamboyant prince of Vocal House and remixed by Wareika member Jakob Seidensticker and his producing partner MELINA.

Stockholm based The Nomads have always stood out from other garage rock revivalists because of
the intensity of their performances and the wide range of their influences, which extend beyond the
usual ’60s bands. The mini-LP Where the Wolf Bane Blooms still sounds as vital and exciting as it did
in 1983. 40 years down the road we celebrate this underground classic with a remastered reissue full
of extra goodies from one of the toughest bands to walk the planet

PYLAR, one of the best kept secret of the Spanish underground, is a collective formed in Seville (Spain) by members of Orthodox and Blooming Látigo. With an imaginary that feeds on occult sciences, the sacred (with special attention to pagan themes) or hyperstition, PYLAR navigates the depths of mysticism and cosmic horror evoking interdimensional and abyssal sonic scenarios.
An instrumental training that incorporates percussion, guitars, keyboards, horn, violin or mandolin, to which is added vocals that intone texts by the experimental writer and philosopher Francisco Jota-Pérez, fragments extracted from occult sciences and the cult vanguard grimoire Cyclonopedia. PYLAR moves between experimental doom metal, black metal and psychedelia, creating music of dense textures by superimposing elements in the styles of Blut Aus Nord, Swans or Oranssi Pazuzu. Their first work “Poderoso se alza en my” (2013) was their letter of presentation, praised by the very Julian Cope.

Classic black vinyl plus bonus 7"-single with two exclusive tracks! Babydoll is the fifth Rat Columns album and, following 2021's Pacific Kiss, the second to be released on Tough Love. The recordings took place in Perth, Western Australia, partially by engineer Jason Hayles in a 1960's office building that formerly housed the secretarial pool of a successful mattress company, and partially by DW in an industrial unit, and feature the ensemble cast of Taylah McLean, Chris Grunwaldt, Scott Payne, Richard Ingham, Cohen Bourgault and, of course, DW himself. It was then mixed and mastered in Melbourne by Mikey Young and Joseph Carra, respectively. Babydoll seems to mark a return to a murkier, dirgier Rat Columns format. Distortion is fetishized again and many small amplifiers were tortured in the album's production. Tempos have drifted down and the lyrical concerns move ever inward, in an inverse bloom. The mood is dour, introspective, circular, the songs long, and short attention spans are neglected. 'Cerulean Blue' churns through a crystalline memoryscape, homaging low-brow grunge auto-fiction and a partial history of mid-period rave. 'Life In The Jungle' is a fever dream of imperialist wartime fantasy projection. 'Heavenly Assault' attempts a crushing density amid visions of transcendent devotion. 'Virtual Sweden' takes us ever northwards into the frosted tip of Scandinavian détente. 'Babydoll', like 'Cerulean Blue', homages a primarily imagined low-cosmopolitan world of alt-lit digi-poets, bedroom fantasists, underwater prisons for gorgeous, gorgeous girls. 'Bees Make Honey' lets more sophisticated music machines into the conversation, and marks the first use of vocal tuning software on a Rat Columns album, albeit in an avant-amateurist fashion. 'Jane, I Live For You' enters the space-ballad race, dreaming of synthetic folk-rockers, leaning on sampler keybeds in the half-light. 'December' is yet another tribute to fallen Stars, mansions on the hill, winter skin in cashmere sweaters, truth in education, love, faith, (im)purity. In all these respects, it is a classic Rat Columns record. Because all Rat Columns records are classic records.

Acclaimed NY-based singer songwriter Jordan Lee aka Mutual
Benefit announces ‘Growing At The Edges’, on Transgressive
Records, his first record since 2019.
 ‘Growing at the Edges’ is sonically expansive, artfully blending
genres from country to classical with the help of multifaceted
co-producer Gabriel Birnbaum (Wilder Maker) and critically
acclaimed string arranger Concetta Abbate. The band,
alongside Lee and Birnbaum, was made up of Wilder Maker
members Sean Mullins (Andy Shauf) and Nick Jost (Baroness)
and features help from Jonnie Baker of Florist and Eva
Goodman of Nighttime among others.
 “I approached ‘Growing at the Edges’ as an act of worldbuilding. It was a place we visited often over the past 5 years
collaging and sonically redecorating until it reflected the joy and
the pain of being human in a universe that will always be
changing. I wanted to make music that could simultaneously
mourn versions of the past but still find hope in the seedlings
which could, perhaps, bloom into better futures” - Jordan Lee
 The album cover is a purposefully ‘unfinished’ weaving by fibre
artist Natalie Phillips.
 “I had this theme for ‘Growing at the Edges’ where I was
thinking about the first little life forms that pop up after
something natural like winter or less natural like a disaster and
kind of channeling their spirit for the art and music. That got me
imagining one of Natalie’s beautiful weavings but in-process
with stray yarn and loom still visible. Incomplete yet still
beautiful. I couldn’t be happier with how it turned out.”
 Mutual Benefit’s live shows are known for their rotating cast of
wide-ranging musicians leading to inspired interpretations of the
extensive catalogue on notable stages like MoMA’s sculpture
garden or UK’s Green Man Festival as well as the occasional
surprise park or basement show at home in Brooklyn.
 Throughout the years Mutual Benefit has been in Album Of The
Year lists among Pitchfork and Stereogum, as well as Folk
Musician Of The Year by New York’s Village Voice.

Der Titel der neuen Oakhands EP 'A Circle with Many Centers' ist eine Referenz an eine Kurzgeschichte Haruki Murakamis und gleichzeitig die Erkenntnis von Oakhands, dass sich das Leben und die Gefühle doch nicht so logisch Auseinanderdifferenzieren und Zerdenken lassen, wie es auf dem vorhergehenden Album 'The Shadow Of Your Guard Receding' angenommen und praktiziert wurde. Sondern dass Gefühle ganz einfach erlebt, wie gelebt werden müssen und all die persönlichen Konflikte doch alle stärker und universeller zusammenhängen, als einem lieb ist. An der Wurzel aller zusammenhängenden Lebensfragen liegt das Thema Depression, welches alle Emotionen durchdringt und erstickt. Ein gesellschaftlich wie individuell unvermeidliches Thema, mitten im Zeitgeists. Die Depression, der große Gegner aller Gefühle oder auch die große Abwesenheit aller Gefühle, lässt sich nicht einfach analytisch ausdifferenzieren, sondern ist "einfach da". Und sie stellt sich hier auf der EP gegen das Kaleidoskop der Gefühle auf dem Debütalbum und alle deren analytische Erklärungsversuche. 'A Circle with Many Centers' ist also wahlweise die Fortzsetzung, Antwort oder Widerlegung ihres Debütalbum. Dieses beschäftigte sich in beinahe schon manischer Präzision analytisch und lyrisch mit den eigenen Gefühlen und wurde künstlerisch (nicht wissenschaftlich) von Plutchicks Rad der Emotionen inspiriert. Wenn man so will, kann 'Circle with Many Centers' auch als eine späte Coming-Of-Age Platte gelesen werden. Eine post-adoleszente Platte über das "wahre" Erwachsenwerden um die 30, späte individuelle Sturm & Drang-Phasen. Über die Erkenntnis, wo die Wurzel aller persönlichen Konflikte liegt: der Depression.

LiV Warfield's live show has been described as "like watching Tina Turner,
Sade and James Brown all in one"
Throw in Mary J. Blige, Etta James and Nina Simone and you're getting closer to
an accurate description of singer-songwriter and dynamic performer LiV Warfield.
A Soul Train Music Award winner and former member of Prince's New Power
Generation, Warfield showcases her wide-ranging musical tastes on The Edge.
From the rock- tinged title track, which bears the stamp of her mentor, to her
autobiographical "Bloom" and her take on the Phil Collins' power ballad, "Another
Day in Paradise," LiV inhabits a myriad of attitudes while expressing her inner
strength and soul on her third album overall and first for Leopard.

In 2020, the previous band formation announced its breakup, leaving Nelson at a pivotal turning point musically, and more broadly, in life, to determine what came next.

Over the next couple of years, Ayala grappled with issues of loss, addiction, coping with pain, relationships gone awry, and relationships anew. He also experimented more sonically, spending countless hours in the studio jamming with friends and using (Covid) boredom as an incubator for creativity. The result of this time period is Lonely Citizen, Indian Askin's third album. Lonely Citizen finds Nelson exploring his own personal story in perhaps the band's most intimate work to date.

Musically, he nods to his Latin roots, with a focus on percussion and groove being a thread throughout the record. Simultaneously, the lyrics find Ayala taking a magnifying glass to his personal reflections on his hometown, Amsterdam.

He says on the album, "It's about feeling sick and tired, and maybe even ashamed, of the place I grew up in and what it's become. And especially what I've become while living my life here. I was born in this machine and I will forever be a part of it, yes. I just can't shake the feeling that I need to leave this noise behind."

With over 40 musicians across 28 tracks, Essentials Spring 2023 might be our most treasured one yet. Featuring a who's who of some of our favorite musicians in the community, we present a 2xLP to keep everyone vibrant and alive as the seasons change and days start to warm. Essentials Spring 2023 features recent Chillhop beat tape alumni like El Train, Evil Needle, illiterate, and Mr. Slipz, while also showcasing songs from familiars like Oatmello, SwuM, Toonorth, Blue Wednesday, HM Surf, The Doppelgangaz, and dozens of others.

This album features over 70 minutes of chillhop, jazzhop, lofi hip-hop, downtempo R&B, lounge jazz, soulful beats, boom bap, old school. However you might like to classify this. Study beats? Sure. Beats to go on a road trip to? Absolutely. Gaming beats, coding beats, beats to daydream to? You betcha. The essentials return for 2023, adding to the ever growing collection of limited edition seasonal releases on vinyl!

When South Korean balearic prodigy Mogwaa came to MM Discos with an idea for his rst full-length album, we were a bit surprised.
He said, ‘I want to do an album of bossa tracks with synths, a drum machine and my guitar’. We obviously had to take him up
on that deal.

Fresh from the recent Bandcamp feature on his own brand of danceoor-ready modern boogie, Seungyoung Lee (aka Mogwaa)
arrives back on MM Discos with his - and our - rst full length exercise. With six tracks per side of 80s inuenced synth and bossa
badness, ‘Hazy Dreams’ is an exercise in simplicity, and more proof of the ever-expanding musical horizons of one of the scene’s
most virtuosic instrumentalists.

Pairing a sensitivity to the construction of ambient, funk, bossa and cassette-tape 80s experiments with his own cinematic subtlety,
‘Hazy Dreams’ takes a gentle, minimalistic approach, crafting its own escapist world that oers a welcome diversion from the
steady ow of busy balearica and downtempo.

Opening track ‘Full Bloom’ paints a picture of midsummer at dawn, some clear-skied island where lush vegetation climbs through
hibiscus gardens. ‘Nacimiento’ is an AOR/bossa crossover evoking West Coast yachting in full afternoon, and A3, ‘Soothing’, adds
a touch of wistfulness with reverb-doused guitars over meandering bass motifs.
The easy kick-and-snare combo of ‘Levitation’ sets the scene for a drum machine love aair, unrequited love on the rocks, and
‘Flashback’ plays with short delay trails and o-kilter melodic sequences, where you feel the soft presence of the nebula approaching
at the break of day. Closing out the A-side, ‘Dispatching’ reaches out even further into the imagined cosmos of Mogwaa’s
picture-perfect world, portraying an ambience at dusk, observing, calmy, as pued-up pink clouds melt into the evening canvas.
On the other side, Mogwaa explores quiet corners with ‘Illusions’, a slow meditation on the nature of simple presence, and ‘Echoes
of You’, a stream of subdued brush strokes that crescendo into higher frequencies on gently undulating pads. B3, ‘Moondance’,
ups the tempo and recalls classic Mogwaa with its sideways shue and starry melodic refrain, pivoting through folk-dance
moods and surprising chord changes.
Nearing the end of the album, ‘Footprints’ wades through tall grass in search of altered states, innite and hypnotic, changing
course only to crouch down and study the landscape, and B5, ‘It always comes and goes’, pictures the to-and-fro of jetstreams and
comets in the blinding midday sky. Finally we have the closing credits of ‘Swingin’ that looks o into the horizon, jaunty and exalted,
a guitar-led tribute to an easy-going world, and ultimately mindful of the power of dreams.
We’re humbled to have such a special record for our rst full-length release on the label.

The latest EP from Drab Majesty marks the start of a stirring new chapter in the band's majestic legacy. Written during a 2021 retreat to the remote coastal Oregon town of Yachats, Deb Demure leaned into the neo- psychedelic resonance of a uniquely bowl - shaped 12 -string Ovation acoustic/electric guitar. After early morning hikes in the rain, Deb would record ambient guitar experiments the rest of the day, tapping into "flow states," letting the sound lead the way. These sessions were then refined or recreated, and later elevated further with key collaborations by Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Justin Meldal Johnson (Beck, M83, Air), and Ben Greenberg (Uniform, Circular Ruin Studio). An Object In Motion is true to its title, capturing the chrysalis moment of an artist evolving, reborn and untet hered, silhouetted against an open horizon. "Cape Perpetua" kicks off the collection's divergent palette: sparkling acoustic fingerpicking refracted through delay, equal parts raga and reverie. Melodies and moods congeal and dissipate, at the threshold of rustic American primitivism, brooding neo-folk, and pastoral melancholia. "The Skin And The Glove" deploys jangle to different effect baggy, soaring, grey skied kaleidoscopic pop in the spirit of Stone Roses, Primal Scream, and The Glove. Rachel Goswell lends her iconic freefall voice to The Cure - esque ballad, "Vanity," infusing poetic gravity to the doomed refrain: "If the valve breaks / then the earth quakes / and history finds a way / to put you in your place." "Yield To Force", the closing track of the EP, may be the most anomalous offering of the set. A 15 minute instrumental odyssey of cyclical strings, ominous slide guitar, and simmering synthesizer, the piece sways and spirals like a long zoom into distant storm clouds. Demure finesses the guitar with a restless but regal grandeur, unfolding a panorama of peaks, shadows, and plateaus. It's music both intuitive and prophetic, tracing the slow swing of pendulums across an endless plain. Taken as a whole, An Object In Motion presents a showcase of potential futures from Drab's evolving domain, their sound poised to bloom at the precipice of transformation.

Four years after they went all the way to Antarctica, Flat Worms are back in gen pop with the rest of us - but, as intoned on the album opener "Sigalert," "back again like I never was." Is this a nod to the way time passes over our sorely vexed synapses? Or are we to believe that there"s hope to be found in this broken world? Kick back with Witness Marks and see what other traces Flat Worms have left us in the dust. The album title alone leaves a foreboding impression. But look closer - "witness marks" aren"t something out of a forensic analysis - they"re actually practical; scratches placed in old clocks designed to aid continued maintenance further in time. Sure, there"s big questions and more on the board; primarily if we"re at all distinct from the absurdity coming down around us, or just another character in the mirror? Flat Worms are looking inward this time, outlining personal space in relation to themselves and others - sometimes even people they barely know. Among the slabs of slategrey outrage, the flowers of compassion are blooming, and the simmering power of their trio grows exponentially. Working once again with Ty Segall, Flat Worms continue to find new answers by digging into themselves and playing their kind of rock: hard and flat, bass and drums thrusting stalwartly forward with conviction, guitar twisting and spinning in outrage, deadpan vocals decrying a dire set of circumstances. The democracy of working together, so often messy and frustrating, was found to be a powerful release for Justin, Tim and Will. Acting as one, Flat Worms navigated challenging times by coming together, finding release in the clockwork repetitions of practice and the shared creative space they occupied together against the encroaching world. In the short century of their existence, Flat Worms have agitated against the status quo with a disquieting lyric bent, to emphasize the psychosis of the times. These are positions taken within songs, sung out to individuals in the world. As evidenced by the lyrics, "But I know I can always see you at the show Even though it"s only temporary and it"s time to go." . . .Witness Marks surveys an evolving sense of community. Flat Worms are dedicated to persevering and using the power of their collective. Come witness!

Four years after they went all the way to Antarctica, Flat Worms are back in gen pop with the rest of us - but, as intoned on the album opener "Sigalert," "back again like I never was." Is this a nod to the way time passes over our sorely vexed synapses? Or are we to believe that there"s hope to be found in this broken world? Kick back with Witness Marks and see what other traces Flat Worms have left us in the dust. The album title alone leaves a foreboding impression. But look closer - "witness marks" aren"t something out of a forensic analysis - they"re actually practical; scratches placed in old clocks designed to aid continued maintenance further in time. Sure, there"s big questions and more on the board; primarily if we"re at all distinct from the absurdity coming down around us, or just another character in the mirror? Flat Worms are looking inward this time, outlining personal space in relation to themselves and others - sometimes even people they barely know. Among the slabs of slategrey outrage, the flowers of compassion are blooming, and the simmering power of their trio grows exponentially. Working once again with Ty Segall, Flat Worms continue to find new answers by digging into themselves and playing their kind of rock: hard and flat, bass and drums thrusting stalwartly forward with conviction, guitar twisting and spinning in outrage, deadpan vocals decrying a dire set of circumstances. The democracy of working together, so often messy and frustrating, was found to be a powerful release for Justin, Tim and Will. Acting as one, Flat Worms navigated challenging times by coming together, finding release in the clockwork repetitions of practice and the shared creative space they occupied together against the encroaching world. In the short century of their existence, Flat Worms have agitated against the status quo with a disquieting lyric bent, to emphasize the psychosis of the times. These are positions taken within songs, sung out to individuals in the world. As evidenced by the lyrics, "But I know I can always see you at the show Even though it"s only temporary and it"s time to go." . . .Witness Marks surveys an evolving sense of community. Flat Worms are dedicated to persevering and using the power of their collective. Come witness!

Woods are in bloom again, inviting you to disappear into a new spectrum of colors and sounds and dreams on Perennial. Formed in Brooklyn in 2004, Woods have matured into a true independent institution, above and below the root, reliably emerging every few years with new music that grows towards the latest sky. Operating the Woodsist label since 2006 and curating the beloved homespun Woodsist Festival for the musical universe they’ve built, Perennial is the sound of a band on the edge of their 20th anniversary and still finding bold new ways to sound like (and challenge) themselves. Perennial grew from a bed of guitar/keyboard/drum loops by Woods head-in-chief Jeremy Earl, a form of winter night meditation that evolved into an unexplored mode of collaborative songwriting. With Earl’s starting points, he and bandmates Jarvis Taveniere and John Andrews convened, first at Earl’s house in New York, then at Panoramic House studio in Stinson Beach, California, site of sessions for 2020’s Strange To Explain. With a view of the sparkling Pacific and tape rolling, they began to build, jamming over the loops, switching instruments, and developing a few dozen building blocks. The album’s resulting 11 songs, 4 of them instrumental, are in the classic Woods mode--shimmering, familiar, fractionally unsettling--but with the half-invisible infinity boxes of Earl’s loops burbling beneath each like a mysterious underground source. From source to seed to bloom, each loop unfolds into something unpredictable, from the jeweled pop of the aching “Little Black Flowers” to the ecstatic starlit freak-beat of “Another Side.” They are blossomings both far-out and comforting, like the Mellotronic cloud-hopping of “Between the Past,” or sometimes just plain comforting, like the widescreen snowglobe fantasia of the instrumental “White Winter Melody,” touched by Connor Gallaher’s pedal steel. Woods have long used the studio as a place of songwriting, naming 2007’s At Rear House after their shared dwelling and recording space. But Perennial also carries with it an even longer view of Woods. Emerging from the process alongside the music was Earl’s reflection that “perennial plants and flowers are nature’s loops,” an idea rolling under the album’s lyrics like the loops themselves. It certainly applies to the band, too, who have quietly tended to a long, committed project of being a band in the weird-ass 21st century, both individually and communally. Though separated by coasts, the communal sprit carries through Earl, Taveniere, and Andrews’ collaboration, a living embodiment of the freedoms rediscovered every time a new collectively created piece of music emerges. For nearly two decades, Woods have survived subgenres, anchored in the fertile soil below hashtags like lo-fi and freak-folk and psychedelic and indie, and built a shared history that’s something to marvel at. As the flagship band for Woodsist, they’ve accumulated a striking extended family of collaborators (and Woods alum) that have made the label one of the most dependable imprints in the kaleidoscopic low-key underground. It’s a glow that’s transferred whole to the blissed-out Woodsist Fests held in Accord, New York in recent years, which have folded in a wide range of diverse sounds, from the the jazz cosmoverse of the Sun Ra Arkestra and adventurous legends Yo La Tengo, to a hard-to-even-count family tree of contemporaries, like Kevin Morby (who served a few tours of duty as Woods bassist) and Kurt Vile (who released his 2009 debut on Woodsist), a living community in sound. Perennial carries all of this, shaped by decades, but made in the moment, and here right now. The smell of the flowers doesn’t remain, but sometimes the flowers do. Jesse Jarnow Recorded and mixed by Jarvis Taveniere at Panoramic House in Stinson Beach, CA with additional recording at The Ship in Los Angeles, CA and Cottekill Bird Sanctuary in Stone Ridge, NY. Produced by Jarvis Taveniere and Jeremy Earl. Mastered by Timothy Stollenwerk at Stereophonic Mastering in Portland, OR. Jeremy Earl - vocals, guitars, drums, percussion, sk-5, mellotron, vibraphone, autoharp, loops Jarvis Taveniere - guitar, bass, upright bass, hammond, vocals John Andrews - piano, organs, mellotron, drums, vocals Connor Gallaher - Pedal Steel Kyle Forester - sax, wurlitzer

Woods are in bloom again, inviting you to disappear into a new spectrum of colors and sounds and dreams on Perennial. Formed in Brooklyn in 2004, Woods have matured into a true independent institution, above and below the root, reliably emerging every few years with new music that grows towards the latest sky. Operating the Woodsist label since 2006 and curating the beloved homespun Woodsist Festival for the musical universe they’ve built, Perennial is the sound of a band on the edge of their 20th anniversary and still finding bold new ways to sound like (and challenge) themselves. Perennial grew from a bed of guitar/keyboard/drum loops by Woods head-in-chief Jeremy Earl, a form of winter night meditation that evolved into an unexplored mode of collaborative songwriting. With Earl’s starting points, he and bandmates Jarvis Taveniere and John Andrews convened, first at Earl’s house in New York, then at Panoramic House studio in Stinson Beach, California, site of sessions for 2020’s Strange To Explain. With a view of the sparkling Pacific and tape rolling, they began to build, jamming over the loops, switching instruments, and developing a few dozen building blocks. The album’s resulting 11 songs, 4 of them instrumental, are in the classic Woods mode--shimmering, familiar, fractionally unsettling--but with the half-invisible infinity boxes of Earl’s loops burbling beneath each like a mysterious underground source. From source to seed to bloom, each loop unfolds into something unpredictable, from the jeweled pop of the aching “Little Black Flowers” to the ecstatic starlit freak-beat of “Another Side.” They are blossomings both far-out and comforting, like the Mellotronic cloud-hopping of “Between the Past,” or sometimes just plain comforting, like the widescreen snowglobe fantasia of the instrumental “White Winter Melody,” touched by Connor Gallaher’s pedal steel. Woods have long used the studio as a place of songwriting, naming 2007’s At Rear House after their shared dwelling and recording space. But Perennial also carries with it an even longer view of Woods. Emerging from the process alongside the music was Earl’s reflection that “perennial plants and flowers are nature’s loops,” an idea rolling under the album’s lyrics like the loops themselves. It certainly applies to the band, too, who have quietly tended to a long, committed project of being a band in the weird-ass 21st century, both individually and communally. Though separated by coasts, the communal sprit carries through Earl, Taveniere, and Andrews’ collaboration, a living embodiment of the freedoms rediscovered every time a new collectively created piece of music emerges. For nearly two decades, Woods have survived subgenres, anchored in the fertile soil below hashtags like lo-fi and freak-folk and psychedelic and indie, and built a shared history that’s something to marvel at. As the flagship band for Woodsist, they’ve accumulated a striking extended family of collaborators (and Woods alum) that have made the label one of the most dependable imprints in the kaleidoscopic low-key underground. It’s a glow that’s transferred whole to the blissed-out Woodsist Fests held in Accord, New York in recent years, which have folded in a wide range of diverse sounds, from the the jazz cosmoverse of the Sun Ra Arkestra and adventurous legends Yo La Tengo, to a hard-to-even-count family tree of contemporaries, like Kevin Morby (who served a few tours of duty as Woods bassist) and Kurt Vile (who released his 2009 debut on Woodsist), a living community in sound. Perennial carries all of this, shaped by decades, but made in the moment, and here right now. The smell of the flowers doesn’t remain, but sometimes the flowers do. Jesse Jarnow Recorded and mixed by Jarvis Taveniere at Panoramic House in Stinson Beach, CA with additional recording at The Ship in Los Angeles, CA and Cottekill Bird Sanctuary in Stone Ridge, NY. Produced by Jarvis Taveniere and Jeremy Earl. Mastered by Timothy Stollenwerk at Stereophonic Mastering in Portland, OR. Jeremy Earl - vocals, guitars, drums, percussion, sk-5, mellotron, vibraphone, autoharp, loops Jarvis Taveniere - guitar, bass, upright bass, hammond, vocals John Andrews - piano, organs, mellotron, drums, vocals Connor Gallaher - Pedal Steel Kyle Forester - sax, wurlitzer

"If you can imagine a love child between MAC DEMARCO and SPAR-KLEHORSE, then this would be what you're left with." - SO YOUNG MAGA-ZINE
Raised in North Queensland, Australia, Jarrod Mahon is not one to shy away from bold new endeavors. Once parting ways with his previous record label in 2019, Mahon chose to go fully independent, relocating to Berlin in 2019 (where he still resides), despite having no contacts at all in the country. What’s more, having recorded/performed under the pseudonym Emerson Snowe for over a decade - during which time he home-recorded five albums and 13 EP’s, toured with the likes of King Krule or Ariel Pink, played showcases SXSW and the Great Escape, the works - Mahon took that brave, most uncommercial decision to release under his own name and start almost totally anew.
“There was never really a concept to that name Emerson Snowe other than having some kind of separation from who I was as a person,” Mahon explains, “using a moniker gave me that confidence to push myself further mentally and to give myself some kind of a freedom”. And through the process of creating what would become his debut album, Mahon saw that he had outgrown the need for this protective persona. ‘Everything Has A Life’ was meant to be the debut Snowe album”, he admits, “but after I finished mixing it with Syd Kemp, co-producer I realized that I had actually grown a lot and was much more comfort-able with who I am and what my personal beliefs are.”
The choice of ‘Everything Has A Life’ as the album title, pulled from beauteous opening track ‘All I Know’, neatly summarizes this new outlook: moving on from ‘self-pity’ of the past-self by becoming present for the loved ones around you, improving understanding of one’s own self, via the wider world at large.
That track marks the first written during a lockdown stint in LA where Mahon wrote and recorded every day for 2 months, produced nigh on 250 demos and birthed the bulk of the record. It also brought Mahon back to his all-time favorite, Sufjan Stevens’ Ilinois and its blend of widescreen orchestral landscapes and more candid, naked acoustic-leaning variations - an important influence for the album's stylistic contrasts. Another key inspiration for the record too brought Mahon back to his roots - those full-bloom strains of his Mum’s Beloved Neil Diamond, an annual Christmas irritant to Mahon as a child, yet an artist he’s come to respect in adulthood. “Whatever the reason, with age I came to love the big show band sounds,” he says, “the idea of a performer on stage with a mas-sive orchestra with strings was amazing to me.”
With the help of producer Syd Kemp (Ulrika Spacek, Vanishing Twin), such grand designs could be met. - “When we first met, he asked me if I would like real strings on it. I said of course.” Enter Magda Mclean on violin (Caroline/the Umlauts), and Gamaliel Rendle Traynor on Cello (Sweat, Fat White Family), whose strings helped lift the record to romantic new heights.
He continues: “I said to Syd that the only thing I wanted to achieve with this rec-ord was that I wanted it to make me cry at one point. And we got there eventual-ly.” The final culmination of all these strands, ’Everything Has A Life’ is indeed a treasure trove of emotive riches. Locking into that bittersweet, quintessentially ‘pop’ combination of triumphant rhythms and confessional, stream-of-consciousness lyrics plucked straight from the heart, Mahon faces up to years of substance abuse with a series of gorgeous, blushing melodies: “I was using, I was drinking, I was lying to my friends, I was messing up again, I was hiding from myself”, he joyously chants on ‘The Growing’.
A banquet fit for an indie king, Everything Has A Life is loaded with psych-pop lusciousness (‘All I Know’) and anthemic glam fuzz (‘Death Of The Ladies Man’, ‘Deadstar’, or ‘Sonny is my Best Friend’); recalling that foundational Sufjan Ste-vens influence too with shambling flecks of country (‘Charly (Romantic Heart)’). There’s also those lo-fi crepitations of ‘My Man’ and ‘I can’t’ harking back home-recorded demos that lie at the core of Mahon’s creative process.

Palma Music Studios, Oktober 2022. Die funkigen Vier aus Schweden werden während der sonnigen Tage beim Trinken von Margaritas und Estrella Damms gesichtet, aber nach der Siesta legen sie das laute Fundament für das achte Album der ELECTRIC BOYS."Die Pandemie inspirierte zu einigen ernsteren Themen, so dass "Ups!de Down", das 2021 erschien, ein etwas düstereres Album war, auch wenn die Hoffnung immer präsent war", sagt Conny Bloom, der Hauptsongschreiber der Band."Grand Explosivos", das neue Electric Boys-Album, das am 15. September über Mighty Music erscheint, ist jedoch genau das Gegenteil. Es könnte tatsächlich sein, dass die Jungs die beste Party seit "Groovus Maximus" schmeißen!

Das Album ist ein hart rockendes, melodiöses, funkiges und spaßiges Abenteuer, das zu einem Markenzeichen der Band geworden ist.Die erste Single "I've Got A Feelin'" wies den Weg in die klassischen Rock-Arenen, während die Folgesingle "Domestic Blitz" wie ein Maultier kickt und keine Gefangenen macht. (Oder vielleicht doch?)
Schauen Sie sich das Video an und entscheiden Sie selbst:). Die Jungs haben sichtlich Spaß daran, zusammen zu spielen und wir freuen uns auf ein verdammt gutes Partyalbum am Ende des Sommers.

Palma Music Studios, Oktober 2022. Die funkigen Vier aus Schweden werden während der sonnigen Tage beim Trinken von Margaritas und Estrella Damms gesichtet, aber nach der Siesta legen sie das laute Fundament für das achte Album der ELECTRIC BOYS."Die Pandemie inspirierte zu einigen ernsteren Themen, so dass "Ups!de Down", das 2021 erschien, ein etwas düstereres Album war, auch wenn die Hoffnung immer präsent war", sagt Conny Bloom, der Hauptsongschreiber der Band."Grand Explosivos", das neue Electric Boys-Album, das am 15. September über Mighty Music erscheint, ist jedoch genau das Gegenteil. Es könnte tatsächlich sein, dass die Jungs die beste Party seit "Groovus Maximus" schmeißen!

Das Album ist ein hart rockendes, melodiöses, funkiges und spaßiges Abenteuer, das zu einem Markenzeichen der Band geworden ist.Die erste Single "I've Got A Feelin'" wies den Weg in die klassischen Rock-Arenen, während die Folgesingle "Domestic Blitz" wie ein Maultier kickt und keine Gefangenen macht. (Oder vielleicht doch?)
Schauen Sie sich das Video an und entscheiden Sie selbst:). Die Jungs haben sichtlich Spaß daran, zusammen zu spielen und wir freuen uns auf ein verdammt gutes Partyalbum am Ende des Sommers.

In Rumi's poem A Great Wagon he writes of a place of total acceptance. "Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing, there is a field. I'll meet you there," It is a boundless, liminal space where we can release the judgments we make and carry of ourselves, and the comparisons to others. When we think of this field, there is a sense of tranquility that only comes when we are undisturbed by the shadow self and see existence as neither bright nor dim, white nor black. But as lead singer Greg Bertens explains, arriving there is a whole different story. "This is a poem I've returned to over the years, and I love the idea of this place, but getting there is life's journey." Bertens adds "I think the longing for and elusiveness of this field is a recurring theme in our music." Field is enveloped by themes of regret, disconnection and frustration but with the space to understand that these feelings are a natural part of the struggle between reconciling the inner and outer self. The Los Angeles/San Francisco-based group have been indie shoegaze stalwarts since their formation in 2001. After two decades and a handful of line-up changes, their extensive discography presents a dynamically textural, lush psychedelic rock that has featured guest appearances by members of Pavement, My Bloody Valentine, and Snow Patrol, among others. 2021's LP We Weren't Here was hailed for its dense instrumental blanket, where unrelenting hi-hats and heavy kicks exist alongside dreamy drone guitar. This propulsive nature permeates Field, as members Bertens, Noël Brydebell (vocals), Nyles Lannon (guitar), Jason Ruck (synths), Justin LaBo (bass), and Adam Wade (drums) produce a kaleidoscopic sonic landscape. Patient, sprawling instrumentation builds a foundation in which Bertens' themes of endurance, perseverance and clarity can bloom with a considered poise. As a lyricist who writes in response to the instrumental arrangements, rather than a focus on a specific theme or person, Field is a testament to Film School's ability to create in the moment, and to showcase the magic that stems from when we are truly present. Album opener "Tape Rewind" is a swirling rush of color, as sustained guitars, darkened bass lines and urgent, percussive swells dance alongside each other. "This is the newest of all the songs on the record and feels like a new level of heaviness for the band," Bertens explains, noting that its lyrical context of struggling to move past trauma adds to its cathartic essence. Field is bookended by heavier themes, with closer "All I'll Ever Be" taking on the perspective of those we hurt when we embrace our own toxic behaviors. Originally written to be a simple acoustic guitar and vocals song soon turned into an ethereal, effects-laden composition, with Noël's hazy lead vocals ushering in a new-found acceptance. "It's all I want / To be released / And all I can be," she laments, cementing Field's message of accepting ourselves in whatever form we find ourselves in. "Defending Ruins" is a murky relentless underworld, inspired by the freewheeling tones of Texas-based band Holy Wave. "Defending the ruins, defending remains," Bertens spits, among a richly-layered outro. "Don't You Ever" confirms Film School's ability to merge both delicate and growling instrumentation throughout the album, with the song's softly spoken section hovering above sparkling guitar. "Is This A Hotel" bends towards the electronic aspects of the band, with wailing synths accompanying a story of bitter desire. With over two decades in the industry, Field cements Film School as a distinct, dominant force in the shoegaze scene. Soaked in an emotionally open, imaginative atmosphere, the album is both singular and expansive, and leaves the door open for a constantly evolving interpretation. Film School have never confined themselves to the rigidity of specifics, and it's on Field that they urge us to look beyond the binary of certainty, and to take a second look