Search:booth

A series of Clutch catalogue releases reimagined and individually curated by one of the band members and reissued as part of the Clutch Collector's Series. The artwork is in the vein of the original yet strikingly different. The vinyl releases are remastered each album includes a numbered insert autographed by all band members.

Krystal Klear returns to Running Back with another batch of purpose-built dance floor tracks. The name? Personal. It means something, but that bit stays off the press sheet.
Written during a particularly charged stretch of inspiration, these tracks aim to soundtrack every hour of the night: from the hopeful haze of doors open to the bitter-sweet buzz of lights on.
Crafted as quiet tributes to nights out and DJ booths in Germany, Scotland, and London, places where sweat meets sub, and the USB never quite ejects.
The formula? Unchanged and undefeated: heavy drums, melodic inflections, more ARPs than strictly necessary, and something emo stirred in for good measure. Dance music for dancers. Or at least for the idea of them.

Far above the skylark sings And beats the air with joyful wings Till all the sky with music rings At high noon of the day With 2022's critically acclaimed album Ghosts, enigmatic Shropshire group HARESS markedout their own place in a growing landscape of artists navigating the world of the traditional and the rural in new ways. Ghosts led to the normally reclusive Haress venturing out from their base in the Shropshire Hills for live performances with the likes of Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Shovel Dance Collective, Big Brave, Steve Von Till and appearances at Supersonic and Krankenhaus Festivals - not to mention making fans of everyone from Kevin Martin to James Holden in the process. Skylarks is perhaps the natural conclusion of these past few years for the group. Whereas previous Haress recordings have embraced something of the unknown in the process of their making, Skylarks sees a well-travelled group of musicians carefully craft long and expressive pieces of music in a powerful and instinctual way. The music here might be long, but it never sprawls out of control. The telepathy present in live performance has been harnessed and used to carefully compose and arrange these four pieces, narrating a journey through landscape and time that is as powerful as it is beautiful. Inspired by found folk songs, the power of nature and the power of community and Ben Myers' brutal tale of resistance The Gallows Pole, Haress have created a genuinely epic soundtrack to a world both past and future, real and imagined. The ambience and atmosphere of the recording (expertly captured by Phil Booth of JT Soar Studio on location in the group's hometown of Bishop's Castle) is entirely natural, the sound of an ensemble playing live in the room around you. The only vocal interjection this time comes from a choir of voices, replicating the communal singing that has been the centrepiece of Haress live performances. When the voices emerge, it feels truly euphoric and heavy. Not heavy as in metal, but heavy as in the Earth itself - a primal, joyful gut punch to the system. "This blissed-out psychedelia is not quite pastoral – there’s nothing twee about these unwinding grooves – yet evokes water and wood, light and shadow, a place of forgotten labour and the absent human form with a beguiling grace" - Luke Turner on Ghosts, The Quietus Albums Of The Year 2022 "That timelessness of the old sounds but with an added tripped out modernity and dissonance hooked into the past by the power of drone is magical and exhilarating stuff – they are truly spellbinding – ancient and modern like British ragas or a damp searching for the soul of England take on the desert blues of a Tinariwen" - Jon Robb reviews Krankenhaus Festival 2023, Louder Than War

Rock’n’roll revivalists Split Dogs are not here to make 15 second viral videos, they’re not here to sell you a lifestyle, they’re here to destroy. Born from the frustration of seeing music become commodified and soulless, vocalist Harry Atkins and guitarist Mil Martinez had the idea to form a band as far back as 2015, with the name ‘Split Dogs’ pulled from the classic zombie film ‘Return of the Living Dead’.
In South London, a young Martinez would hear Status Quo, Bachman Turner Overdrive and Dire Straits on the car radio while his father drove him to school. At home he would invade his older brothers’ record collection which leaned towards the harder sounds of punk and heavy metal. Meanwhile in the Black Country, Harry’s mother instilled a love of Northern Soul, Slade and rock’n’roll, with stories of nights out at Club Lafayette and family singalongs at home. According to Martinez, “Our sound is a culmination of all those early influences and, to be honest, it really shows.”
It wasn’t until 2022 that Split Dogs officially arrived on the scene with bass player Suez Boyle joining the band in 2023. Already a prominent figure in the queer punk scene, Suez played the first ever Rebellion Festival at the tender age of 16 with her band The Walking Abortions. Up until that point, drummer Chris Hugall, an old friend of Martinez and former member of ska punks Mouthwash (signed to Rancid’s label Hellcat back in the day), was only on hand to help design artwork. It wasn’t until 2024 Hugall joined the band full time, cementing the current line-up.
The raucous live shows and infectious lyrics saw the four-piece make a name for themselves among the punks of Bristol, a scene that has always welcomed LGBTQ+ and marginalised people. As word spread, so did the gigging, and soon enough Split Dogs were playing to sold out rooms in mainland Europe, eventually grabbing the attention of UK label Venn Records (Gallows, Bob Vylan, High Vis). ‘Here to Destroy’ was recorded over three days at Middle Farm Studios by producer Peter Miles. All tracks were laid straight to a 16 track reel-to-reel tape machine, no autotune, no effects pedals, no computers. To add to the music’s authenticity, the album was recorded live, with Harry singing along in a vocal booth. No cutting and pasting, just nailing takes. According to Martinez, “It was a blast! We fully immersed ourselves, sleeping in a small apartment below the studio, cooking meals and listening to Pete’s extensive record collection”. While the final result is a step away from Split Dogs early punk sound, the attitude is still there in droves. “We wanted the album to have a raw bones feel,” Martinez tells us, “real 1970s rock’n’roll!”. Harry channels the spirit of Motörhead’s Lemmy Kilmister as they tear through hook after hook, singing about the Northern Soul clubs their mother once frequented (‘Lafayette’), the Orwellian nightmare we’re heading for (“Stay Tuned”) and a touching homage to British working class culture (“And What?”). As the album title makes clear, Split Dogs are here to destroy, but they’re also here to rebuild and remind us of music’s essence. “We’re not beholden to the digital age, we don’t want to get famous on social media, we just want to show the world that rock’n’roll is alive and well”.

Pure Dub! Deep, atmospheric, and unhurried, these tracks unfold like whispered conversations in the night—barely perceptible yet profoundly felt, shaping the very air around them. A soundtrack for those who listen beyond the obvious, for those who find solace in the pulse beneath the everyday.

Welcome to "Private Dancer": Acclaimed producer Johannes Albert returns with his third club album after six years - his first on Permanent Vacation - and it's a statement. The album stars a sound that was always in him - called House - something that moves the body and warms the soul.
Collaboration is key. London's own Helen Salvin graces "Wide-Eyed" with her magnificent voice where midtempo meets a subtle boogie. Things heat up when Biesmans jumps in for the infectious, uptempo "Get My Gee". And when longtime friend Iron Curtis lends a hand, the title track "Private Dancer" melts into subliminal grooves. Expect classic material, like the Arp-tinged "L’Chaim," alongside unexpected weirdness - see "Patterns Everywhere". The life affirming "My Kind" leaves you with nothing but positive vibes while the Pepe Bradock styled sampling of "Follow The Strings" goes sincere all the way.
With 15 years of releases and 25 years behind the DJ booth Johannes Albert masters the balance: House Music that's always classy yet still offers a modern twist. "Private Dancer' showcases 11 tracks that are well crafted - refined yet understated. Maybe all we need now is a basement, a red light, and - you know it - more of that feeling.

LINER NOTES BY BOOM BASS
A FIRST ALBUM AFTER SIGNING THE CONTRACT TO RELEASE OUR DEBUT ALBUM, WE WERE SUDDENLY INUNDATED WITH AN OVERWHELMING NUMBER OF TASKS.

TOWARD THE END OF THE 20TH CENTURY,MUSIC PRODUCTION WAS STILL A HEAVILY INDUSTRIAL PROCESS. FACTORIES MANUFACTURED CDS, VINYL RECORDS, AND EVEN AUDIO CASSETTES, WHICH WERE THEN SHIPPED BY TRUCK TO WAREHOUSES BELONGING TO VARIOUS FRENCH MAJOR LABELS. DEDICATED TEAMS BRAINSTOR-MED IDEAS, DEVISED STRATEGIES, AND ORCHESTRATED PLANS TO DISTRIBUTE THESE RECORDS TO SPECIALIZED STORES. AT THE TIME, RADIO, TELEVISION, AND THE PRESS HELD THE KEYS TO SUCCESS.

WITHOUT THEIR SUPPORT, REACHING THE GENERAL PUBLIC, OR EVEN A NICHEA UDIENCE, WAS NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE.OUR FIRST ALBUM AS CASSIUS, SLATED FOR RELEASE IN JANUARY 1999, SPARKED GENUINE EXCITEMENT WITHIN THE VIRGIN RECORDS TEAM. AS A FORMER ARTISTIC DIRECTOR, I KNEW THIS LEVEL OF ENTHUSIASM WAS RARE. FOR PHILIPPE AND ME, STEPPING INTO THE SPOTLIGHT WAS A COMPLETELY NEW EXPERIENCE.

AFTER YEARS OF WORKING BEHIND THE SCENES FOR OTHERS,FOCUSED AND IMMERSED IN THE STUDIO, WE WERE NOW AT THE FOREFRONT, ENTIRELY INCONTROL. THIS SHIFT BROUGHT A WHIRLWIND OF EMOTIONS: AMBITION FUELED OUR FEARS,AND CREATIVE CHAOS OFTEN BLURRED OUR JUDGMENT ABOUT WHEN TO STOP REFINING OURWORK.NAVIGATING DECISIONS AS A DUO, WE QUICKLY DISCOVERED THE COMPLEXITIES OF PARTNERSHIP AND PRODUCTION. WITHOUT MANAGEMENT, WHOSE CRITICAL ROLE IS OFTEN TO SHIELD ARTISTS FROM THEIR OWN TENDENCIES, WE OCCASIONALLY STRUGGLED TO MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICES.

YET, EXCITEMENT AND SHEER JOY ULTIMATELY PREVAILED, AND WE THREW OURSELVES WHOLE HEARTEDLY INTO THE ADVENTURE. AS POSITIVE FEEDBACK ROLLED IN FROM SUBSIDIARIES, MARKETING BUDGETS EXPANDED, AND THE ALBUM'S RELEASE STRATEGY SKYROCKETED TO NEW HEIGHTS.

DAFT PUNK'S GROUNDBREAKING ALBUM HOMEWORK HAD JUST OPENED THE DOOR FOR FRENCH ELECTRONIC MUSIC TO REACH GLOBAL AUDIENCES. FOR ARTISTS ROOTED IN DJ CULTURE,THIS WAS A TURNING POINT. FRENCH ACTS WERE FINALLY BEING INVITED TO PLAY AT BURGEONING FESTIVALS AND ICONIC CLUBS. THE BRITISH AUDIENCE WAS THE FIRST TO EMBRACE US, AND WEEKEND AFTER WEEKEND, WE TOURED THE UK.

INSPIRED BY THOSE NIGHTS BEHIND THE DECKS, WE SUGGESTED RELEASING A VINYL FEATURING EXTENDED VERSIONS OF TRACKS FROM 1999. DESIGNED AS A PROMOTIONAL DJ TOOL, IT CELEBRATED EXPANSIVE, LONG-FORM TRACKS REMINISCENT OF THE ONES WE LOVED TO PLAY, AN HOMAGE TO OUR EARLY EXPERIMENTS WITH NDLESS LOOPS, LIKE DINAPOLY FROM 1996.

THE VINYL WAS PRESSED IN AN EXTREMELY PROMO LIMITED SERIES, ECHOING OUR EARLY MAXI-SINGLES AND THE RARE RECORDS WE USED TO HUNT FOR AS COLLECTORS. FOR FANS, IT WAS A CHANCE TO OWN SOMETHING TRULY UNIQUE; FOR US, IT WAS A FINAL OPPORTUNITY TO RE-EXPLORE THEA LBUM'S MUSIC.PRODUCED IN THE STYLE OF LA FUNK MOB'S EP, WITH THE TWO OF US IN A RECORDING BOOTH SURROUNDED BY FLOPPY-DISK MACHINES AND TWO OR THREE SYNTHS, THE ALBUM'S SONGS WERE STRUCTURED AND MIXED DIRECTLY IN STEREO ON A DAT (DIGITAL AUDIO TAPE).

MOST TRACKS, ORIGINALLY VERY LONG, WERE EDITED INTO A COHERENT, HOUR-LONG LISTENING EXPERIENCE. THE DJ TOOL WAS ASSEMBLED FROM THOSE ORIGINAL MIXES, AS A FINAL, FREE WHEELING VARIATION OF OUR THREE WEEKS OF FUN IN THE STUDIO.HOLDING THAT VINYL TODAY BRINGS BACK VIVID MEMORIES OF THOSE EARLY TRAVELS, THE NIGHTCLUBS AT THE CUSP OF TRANSFORMATION, THE CROWDS GETTING YOUNGER AT NEW PARTIES, AND THE VINYL RECORDS THAT WERE JUST STARTING TO FADE FROM DJ BOOTHS.

I ALSO RECALL BEING 32 YEARS OLD, NAVIGATING THIS EVOLVING WORLD. NOW, AS I PREPARE FOR THE UPCOMING CASSIUS CLUB TOUR, I'M STRUCK BY HOW CLOSELY IT MIRRORS THE ERA OF THE DJ TOOL RELEASE. TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER, I FEEL INCREDIBLY FORTUNATE TO STILL BE DOING THIS.

IN THE STUDIO, PHILIPPE ONCE SHOUTED, "CASSIUS IN THE HOUSE !" INTO MY EAR. TODAY, I FEEL LIKE TELLING HIM, "I'M GOING BACK TO OUR ROOTS."BOOMBASS.

'199 DJ TOOL", 2025 UNRELEASED ALBUM BY CASSIUS FEATURING 8 EXCLUSIVE EXTENDED VERSIONS OF THE MOST ICONIC TRACKS FROM THE ALBUM 1999 AND THIS EXCLUSIVE SHORT STORY BY BOOMBASS.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Repress as neon green vinyl!

Non Phixion drops a re-realse n of the group’s classic debut “The Future Is Now.” Available exclusively through Fat Beats. “Utilizing beats that would do Dr. Octagon-era Dan “The Automator” proud and rhyming schemes that bring to mind early Wu-Tang Clan or mid-’90s Gang Starr, Non Phixion exposes the sound of true underground hip-hop. This is music that reflects the sound and attitude of countless rappers selling their albums out of the back of their cars or in booths on the street, cutting together dirty and disjointed sounds with a confidence and quality that is unique to this particular genre. This would all be for nothing if it wasn’t for the excellent raps from Ill Bill, Goretex, and Sabac Red, a trio of rappers who have a Tribe Called Quest-like chemistry. Their clever lyrics, respectable skills, and rough voices make this an intense and dark landmark in alternative rap.”

For this special release, we’re excited to unveil something brand new: a triple vinyl, perfect for casting a spell on your Halloween night

Witches brew and cauldrons bubble, as Halloween stirs up an eerie trouble! Step into the world of spooky beats with Lofi Girl's 'Halloween 2024' compilation. Featuring talented artists from around the world, this potion of ghostly rhythms and haunting melodies sets the mood for a night of chills and thrills. Whether you're conjuring up potions or unwinding under the moonlit sky, let the witchy magic of these chilling beats take over your Halloween night!

Der Soundtrack von 'KNEECAP', mit Musik von der Band sowie Bicep, Fontaines DC und Orbital, ist als Doppel-LP im Gatefold-Design auf farbigem Vinyl erhältlich. Er enthält auch Filmmusik von Michael ‘Mikey J’ Asante MBE und Ausschnitte aus den Dialogen des Films.

- Ltd. Col. 2LP: (LP1 Orange / LP2 Green Vinyl)

Speckman D.J. & Producer hailing from Hamburg. Co-founder of the tastemaking partyseries Dreamteam and resident at the legendary Golden Pudel Club is finally presenting his new Album titled „NOISEMAKER“ on Public Possession. His eclectic style as a D.J. is perfectly represented in the Music on this record, sitting comfortably between techhouse, indie, new rave and electronica it could probably be best described as a pretty epic take on electroclash in a fully updated, reloaded 2025 version. Fu**in seriously, unserious party music with a nod to the past yet fully in the present. The mellow, deeper episodes are the topping on the bright, pink cake. Speckman is going to jump out of it and right at you. Find him soon in a D.J. booth close to you, no matter if he is supporting „The Dare“ on his EU Tour or holding controls at the Golden Pudel Club. It’s going to be wild and full of surprises.

The Sound System has become part of today’s musical/cultural heritage, playing the people’s favourite hits or just as important, breaking some new tunes.
But perhaps less known are the roots of the Sound System, which began way back when…in Kingston….

Around the late 1940’s the Sound System began to overtake the big bands that usually played at the dances in Kingston.

The American Rhythm and Blues records that were so popular at the time would find their way to Jamaica via the merchant sailors and migrant workers returning from their stints in America. For economical reasons alone it would pay to have a DJ on hand to play these hits rather than a 10 piece band that could eat and drink the promotor out of the house and on curried goat!!

The early Sound Systems were basic affairs built around a single record deck, a valve amp and a speaker.

But by the 1950’s they had grown to purpose built speakers the size of wardrobes that could be heard blocks away.

Record producer Bunny ‘Striker’ Lee would remember the time ‘Sound Systems was like our radio station…not many people on the island would own a wireless, so it was the way for the people to hear their music.

So this selection of Lovers, Ballads, Root’s classic’s made the Sound Sytems of Jamaica the place to be.

So sit back and enjoy the ride….SOUND SYSTEM ROCKERS …one and all