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Die britische Autorin, Produzentin, Sängerin und Schauspielerin Cynthia Erivo veröffentlicht am 06.06.25 ihr zweites Album „I Forgive You“.

Nachdem die Grammy-,Emmy- und Tony Award - Gewinnerin zuletzt durch ihre Rolle als „Elphaba“ an der Seite von Ariana Grande im Film „Wicked“ weltweit für Furore sorgte, widmet sie sich nun wieder voll und ganz der Musik.

„I Forgive You“ ist als eine Geschichte in vier Kapiteln aufgebaut, dreht sich rund um das Thema Vergebung und gewährt tiefe Einblicke in die Gefühlswelt der Sängerin und Schauspielerin, die spätestens seit ihren Bühnenauftritten bei „The Color Purple“ im Westend und am Broadway in aller Munde ist. Alle Songs sind in Co-Produktion mit dem Produzenten Will Wells entstanden.

"Keep Calm And Carry On was originally released in November 2009, and written and co-produced by Kelly Jones along with Mercury award winning producer, Jim Abiss Arctic Monkeys, Kasabian. This was their seventh studio album and features the single 'Innocent'.
Pull The Pin, originally released in October 2007, was the sixth studio album by the band, their first in over 2 years, and reached number 1 in the UK charts."

I must admit to being a sucker for two-guitar bands. Ok, Hendrix pulled off a trio. But I don’t care what anybody says: The Yardbirds were a better band than anything that came out of them (Ok, maybe not Zep. But Cream?).

Maybe the reason I go back so far in my references is that, within the two-guitar band format, original new roles are difficult and rare. There’s the classic (socially problematic and often boring) “rhythm/lead” solution. There’s the JB’s or Nile Rodgers’ chicken pickin’ vs comping solution (which avoids chordal clashes by relegating one of the guitars to the role of single-note percussion instrument). There’s Ornette’s Prime Time division between Bern Nix’s rolled-off “jazz” tone and Charles Ellerbee’s trebly wah. Almost everything else is a variation on one of these.


In Ches Smith’s record Clone Row, each piece is built around a different concept for guitar interaction. The delightful and gifted weirdness of Mary Halvorson’s playing is counterpointed, contrasted, unisoned with, played off, juxtaposed (that is to say, enters every relationship possible) with Liberty Ellman’s equally amazing sound palette, chops, and imagination. This definitely ain’t your father’s guitar band.
The overall vibe of the record—despite Halvorson’s occasional noise outbursts or Ellman’s distorted guitar lines (see Mixed Fridge) is neither punk/funk, nor Zorn-ish metal—and certainly not the looser parameters of Ornette’s improvised harmolodics. Smith’s vibraphone playing, Halvorson’s guitar tone (whammy pedal squiggles aside), the brilliant electronics, and (most of all) the compositions themselves are somehow strangely West Coast cool. It’s as if I’m hearing a Jim Hall concert in which one of us did a lot of mushrooms, or (dare I write this?) some post-punk post-Dave Brubeck post-trip-hop experiment with classical form.

This recording is, most of all, about Ches as composer. He’s picked up a lot on his long, strange trip of the last few decades. The Haitian funkiness of his work with We All Break is audible—but deeply buried, encoded in the polyrhythms (check out Heart Breakthrough). His long-running side musician collaborations with John Zorn and Tim Berne are also evident but sublimated here into something new.

Not that improvising is absent. Check out the compelling collective statements in Sustained Nightmare and Ready Beat. Check out the brilliant interplay and bass soloing on Abrade With Me (a Weather Report for the age of extreme weather?) Nick Dunston is my favorite bassist of the new generation, and he plays brilliantly throughout. And Ches’ drumming here has all the groove, energy, and incredible range that have kept him in demand from Saturday night Vodou services to jazz and new music recording sessions (…the thinking man’s rock barbarian?).
The sus chords in Abrade With Me do build, for a moment, towards a fusion type of climax...but just at the moment I was gritting my teeth in anticipated defense against some horrible synth solo, the drums drop out, and we’re transported to the ambient lounge at the rave, and we suddenly understand we’re in the hands of a composer with the power to transport us just about anywhere.
So, this is a composer’s record most of all; a composer’s record performed by musicians who happen to be great improvisers. Ches Smith builds here on his reputation as a gifted new voice with an important vision, while showcasing some of the most creative musicians of our time.

"Max Knouse’s voice feels like laughter that follows a well-loved joke. Only afterward, it dawns on you that you don’t fully understand the punchline. Or for that matter the set up. In fact, you’re not even sure what language the joke was told in. What to make of such a laugh—inexplicable, delightful, surprising, seemingly nonsensical? And what to make his voice, at once comforting, beguiling, and just beyond the bounds, like a blues moan or a Mingus lick or some ancient guttural holler? It’s the kind of haunt that lingers long after the record fades, echoing back in your imagination, laden with cryptic possibilities and occulted meanings.

Chipmunk’d Away is his third album. Known for his sessions and live shows with artists like Califone, Jolie Holland, Adan Jodorowsky, Psychic Temple, Simon Joyner, Alex Dupree, and others, Knouse has established himself as an essential factor in the West Coast indie pop underground, brandishing guitar chops that mirror the rawness of his voice; he treats his instrument like a divining rod of spiritual tension and joyful racket, pushing and pulling on it with affection and sometimes something darker.

From the swelling cosmic folk of “Mint and Tobacco,” which features Knouse intoning apocalyptically over engineer Michael Krassner’s washing guitars, “Your breathing ain’t so deep,” to the jazz standard swooner-meets-West Coast psych-pop title track, to the nightmare-scape blues of “Clumsy Hunter,” to the concluding audio collage sway of “Banana, Orange, and Something Else,” Chipmunk’d presents the range and scope of Knouse’s style: bold, adventurous, frightening, and then frequently, when you least expect it, heartbreakingly lovely, like a joke that clarifies your feelings before you could actually verbalize what those feelings even are. They had been hidden from you, chipmunk’d away, but now Max Knouse has revealed them."

Running some cranky, tempestuous currents on the latest, courtesy of Berlin’s Okain.

A quartet of the meanest cuts to grace the label for a minute as he pulls no punches on propulsion. Hurtling through the temporal plane at break-neck speed.

Proper strapping accelerators rooted somewhere between third portal freak-out and girder-strength tech house flex. All four built like a brick shithouse, but the foundations have given out and we’re falling down a wormhole. Transcending epochs and realities with one foot in the free party and another in the big room.

Organ synth, searing 303 and lysergic flourish in abundance. Synths darting, drums impeccable.

Trippier than we’ve come to expect from the Talman Records founder, but no diminishing returns on dancefloor potency.

After over 50 events of Bristol's beloved Club Blanco, the city's anointed high priest of night, Chez de Milo, is crystallising his party's dimension-hopping hedonism into a label, calling on an extended family of esteemed producers and musicians to make it happen.

First up is Johnny Aux, aka Quinn Whalley (Paranoid London, Sworn Virgins, Decius), delivering two offerings accompanied by remixes from Jamie Paton and Chez de Milo himself.

Supersonic blends a hyperspace bassline with euphoric 90s synth elevation that delivers us to a blissful dance floor crescendo, where you've been dancing for hours—maybe days— when the sun appears over the horizon and pierces through the club's blacked-out windows. Chez de Milo's re-rub wraps you up vines of a living, breathing forest, where all your favourite flora and fauna summon you to the dappled light of a clearing, front left of the booth.

On The Train locks you into a rolling groove, and electro slaps and smacks. It feels covered in equal parts space dust and the dust of an old crate of records, where this forgotten banger has been buried deep for 25 years, waiting for the right hands to pull it out. Jamie Paton veers off down a stranger track, conducting a driving Italo beat with eerie soundscapes dissected by lasers and a brooding bassline.

A mix of metallic doomgaze, epic gothic soundscapes and post punk attitude. Loud and crushing, yet sharp enough to stick in your head for days. There are two kinds of heavy bands: the ones that make a lot of noise and the ones that drag you somewhere you didn't know you needed to go. Cwfen (pronounced 'Coven') are the latter, and Sorrows is a record that doesn't just crush - it haunts long after the final note. The allure of Cwfen's sound lies in contrasts: the glacial ferocity of Amenra, with the velvet-and-razor vocals of King Woman, and the rotting grandeur of Type O Negative. It's as hypnotic as it is harrowing, but somehow even better than the sum of those parts. Since emerging from Glasgow's underground just 18 months ago, Cwfen's reputation is growing, selling out shows and pulling growing audiences into their doom-laden fever dream. Released in October, the band's debut single 'Reliks' was a hit with fans and critics, landing a spot on Kerrang!'s release of the week playlist. And rightly so. Their sound devours and delights in equal measure. "Cwfen have emerged from the darkest depths of the Caledonian underground with a beguiling blend of doom metal and gothic post-punk for those who like to live deliciously." Kerrang! Sorrows lives in the space around doom where the weight of the riffs is matched by the weight in your chest, where the lyrics and the songwriting are as important as the music itself. Loud and crushing, yet sharp enough to stick in your head for days. It builds, burns, collapses, resurrects. Big on riffs, bigger on feeling. The kind of songs you carry with you. Singer and rhythm guitarist Agnes Alder bears her claws one minute, then whispers the next, as the band follows like a storm front, rising, breaking, drowning you in the weight of it. From the guttural Penance to the lush Whispers, to the feral Wolfsbane and the insurrectionist Rite. It includes a long reworking of Embers and Bodies, the two self-recorded demos that launched them into the scene with a bang and their growing legion of fans already adore. Intricate vocal arrangements, heavy and harsh guitars, a mix of atmosphere and heft, it undoubtedly punches above its weight for a debut. As Agnes says: "When we stopped trying to fit into any one space, what came out was this beautiful mix of dark and light. Something visceral and cathartic." This is a band that sits right in the boundaries between the heavy genres, pulling in everyone from the young goths and to the die-hard metalheads alike and 'Sorrows' truly does deliver in spades. Make no mistake, Cwfen are set to be one of the names to watch in 2025. FFO: Chelsea Wolfe, Zetra, King Woman, Type O Negative, Alcest, Faetooth, Liturgy. Limited vinyl pressing, 500 copies in transparent red vinyl. Full colour Gatefold outer sleeve, with a full colour printed inner sleeve, Full download included as well.

2025 repress

Wilson Tanner come to shore with a new album of floating melodies, lightly salted. Throwing electroacoustic conventions overboard, Andrew Wilson (Andras) and John Tanner (Eleventeen Eston) recorded this new work aboard a 1950s riverboat with a resourceful array of weatherproof electronic instruments and a long extension lead. These eight compositions pull in a by-catch of maritime folklore; of Siren and Selkie, Seagull and engine oil slick. A change of course from their debut album 69 (Growing Bin Records, 2016), the ambient temperature drops as II casts out to sea in uncertain weather and returns to the safe harbours of Port Phillip Bay.

The seafarers head out to My Gull's poised optimism. The birds watch but do they listen? By the arrival of Loch and Key, the shoreline has dissolved completely, the boat floating in serene infinity as the rest of the world spins. Conditions soon take a treacherous turn on Killcord Pts I-III - a 12 minute odyssey that battens down the hatches as these sailors eye merciless waves and blinding ocean spray, jointly channelling Berlin-school electronics and sea legs. In the aftermath, the waterlogged bleeps of Idle survey the damage as our parched crew sound the distress signal and ultimately descend into delirium.

Known for navigating individual courses as solo musicians, Wilson and Tanner's collective storytelling is saturated in detail, buoying between tension and harmony. II modestly stands as some of both artists' most accomplished material.

Produced by Nigel Godrich, Win & Reìgine, and recorded in multiple locales including New Orleans, El Paso and Mount Desert Island, WE paradoxically distills “the longest we’ve ever spent writing, uninterrupted, probably ever" (per the band’s Win Butler) into a concise 40 minute epic – one as much about the forces that threaten to pull us away from the people we love, as it is inspired by the urgent need to overcome them. WE’s cathartic journey follows a definable arc from darkness into light over the course of seven songs divided into two distinct sides -- Side “I” channeling the fear and loneliness of isolation, and Side “WE” expressing the joy and power of reconnection.

On the album’s cover, a photograph of a human eye by the artist JR evokes Sagittarius A*, the supermassive black hole at the center of the galaxy. This stunning image -- embellished by the distinctive airbrush color tinting of Terry Pastor (utilizing the same physical technique he employed on David Bowie’s iconic Hunky Dory and Ziggy Stardust covers) – is the visual expression of WE.

This authorised vinyl reissue of the ultimate Finnish death metal cult LP comes with the original cover art and all the lyrics. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries. Demilich was like finding a submerged city, or discovering a new path through the mountains, or even confronting a glowering enemy on the open plain. It brought risk, uncertainty, ambiguity and a sense of sublime beauty back to death metal, pulling it away from the slump in which it treated itself as a hammer and every listener as a nail.

This authorised vinyl reissue of the ultimate Finnish death metal cult LP comes with the original cover art and all the lyrics. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries. Demilich was like finding a submerged city, or discovering a new path through the mountains, or even confronting a glowering enemy on the open plain. It brought risk, uncertainty, ambiguity and a sense of sublime beauty back to death metal, pulling it away from the slump in which it treated itself as a hammer and every listener as a nail.

Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 is the first ever archival release from Repetition Repetition, the “two-man electric minimalist band” consisting of Ruben Garcia and Steve Caton hailing from Los Angeles in the mid 1980’s. Repetition Repetition’s unique blend of cosmic art-rock minimalism / maximalism was self-released across a series of cassettes produced in micro editions, and while garnering the attention and participation of luminaries such as Harold Budd, remained under the radar during the band’s existence. Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 collects select material from across the duo’s catalog.

It was over a plate of Mexican breakfast food when Ruben Garcia and Steve Caton first told Harold Budd of Repetition Repetition and the worlds they intended to explore by respective way of synthesizers and guitars --- a rendezvous instigated by the former’s fan mail to the legendary composer. If the upstarts entered this restaurant from a one-way street of admiration, they would leave with not only Budd’s interest but, sometime later, a blessing in the wake of many hours shared by the three in Garcia’s Los Angeles home recording studio: “This is going to be difficult, but God help them, I think they’re great,” noted Budd in a USC lecture in 1985. Now several degrees removed from prior rock music aspirations, the real game was afoot.

Between 1984 and 1988, Repetition Repetition operated within something akin to the underground of the experimental underground, although even that designation perhaps overstates the case. The duo’s sparse output consisted of three cassettes self-released on Garcia’s Third Stone Music label: Repetition Repetition (1985), Lakeland (1987), and The Machinist (1987). Their songs would also be included during this period on Trance Port Tapes’ vital scene-scanning compilations assembled by A Produce. Live performances occurred with similar infrequency, but Garcia and Caton counted converts in quality over quantity, numbering among them the aforementioned Budd, a Chambers Brother, and, judging by a memorably drop-jawed reaction following a rare Repetition Repetition gig, Jackson Browne.

Likewise, critical support materialized in the form of KCRW deejays Brent Wilcox and Dean Suzuki, whose steady airplay positioned Repetition Repetition’s music amidst fearless company like Jon Hassell, Hiroshi Yoshimura, and Richard Horowitz. Yet, to hear fellow Trance Port featured players like Tom Recchion and Bruce Licher of Savage Republic tell it, Garcia and Caton moved as ghosts --- a notion more vexingly endorsed by the silence of record companies that failed to come knocking --- and therein lies an overarching truth to the work itself.

Journey to the heart of Repetition Repetition and one discovers a collective ear impossibly attuned to the hypnotic possibilities of stylistic convergence, the resulting music possessed of seamless multimodalities which beckon to a glimmering plane of the disembodied. Where Caton sought his artistic fixes at an intersection of popular genres, Garcia zoned in on the sonically spare, drawing from the same wellspring as the Enos and Rileys of his personal avant-garde pantheon, and in their coming together the two tapped into a deeper cosmic source. Synthetic walls of keyboard sound in forever states of reprise met waves of shimmering --- and at times even punishing --- guitar in reply, their soundscapes hovering convincingly between, as suggested in fittingly dualistic fashion in a press kit assembled by Garcia, such disparate sensations as bird flight in one song and oil drilling in the next.

But don’t call it a push-pull dynamic, as this was a creative partnership founded upon fluidity and organicism by way of, naturally, repetition. In contrast to, say, the Bressonian ideal of repetitive motion as a great stripping away, the concept in the hands of Garcia and Caton equated to ascendancy via continuous unfolding, a maximal route to minimalism. To be sure, their recording philosophy morphed over the course of the act’s short history, and what started as a process defined by consistent in-person interplay developed into a more isolated method formulated by Garcia, who eventually took to his own one-man bedroom-studio sessions in order to fully chart any and all potential ostinato-loaded paths which he could travel down, the Tascam-captured resonances subsequently provided to Caton as blueprints from which to take flight himself, adding layer upon layer of steel to the proceedings.

If the practice and execution changed, however, the evidence certainly didn’t rest in the results: The seamlessness remained, and, despite the brevity of their time together, so has Repetition Repetition. With this finely calibrated collection of songs in Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987, Freedom To Spend sees to it that the private worlds of Garcia and Caton can now be visited by all rather than just the count-‘em-on-both-hands lucky few whose musical endeavors or collector vocations carried them into this once-distant dimension.

Repetition Repetition’s Fit for Consequences: Original Recordings, 1984–1987 will be released on Freedom To Spend in vinyl and digital editions on May 30, 2025. The collection includes extensive liner notes from Bill Perrine, and wil be offered alongside Over & Over, a supplemental collection of music available exclusively as a mail order cassette from Freedom To Spend and RVNG Intl.

Die amerikanische Rockband Skid Row eroberte in den späten 80er Jahren die Musikszene und wurde zu einer führenden Kraft im Hard Rock- und Heavy Metal-Genre. Bekannt für ihre unbändige Energie, ihre melodischen Hooks und ihre unerbittliche Härte, feierten Skid Row mit Hits wie "18 and Life", "Youth Gone Wild" oder "I Remember You" weltweite Erfolge. Die Band wurde zum Synonym für den rebellischen Geist der späten 80er und frühen 90er Jahre, verkaufte weltweit Millionen von Alben und festigte ihren Platz in der Rockgeschichte. Im Jahr 2022 meldeten sich Skid Row mit ihrem mit Spannung erwarteten neuen Studioalbum "The Gang's All Here" zurück, das von Kritikern und Fans gleichermaßen als kraftvolles Revival ihres klassischen Sounds gefeiert wurde.
"Revolutions Per Minute", erstmals erschienen im Jahr 2006, stellt einen entscheidenden Moment in der Karriere der Band dar, da Skid Row aus ihrer Komfortzone heraustraten und neue Ideen und Einfl üsse in die Band einbrachten. Das Album präsentiert den sich weiterentwickelnden Stil der Band, der ihre charakteristische Härte mit einem moderneren, aƽressiveren Sound kombiniert. Die komplett remasterte Neuaufl age bietet den Fans die Möglichkeit, dieses klassische Album neu zu entdecken und seine nachhaltige Wirkung zu schätzen.

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

Planning For Burial is the solo project of Thom Wasluck, emerging from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania. It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is the long-awaited follow-up to 2017’s Below The House. If Below The House was about returning home, following in the footsteps of one’s father and joining a union, and leaving behind youth’s wild days, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy embraces what comes next—the weight of all years, the quiet shifts, the reckoning with what remains. This record is many things. It captures the slow drift of time, the unnoticed shifts in a loved one—the creeping changes in mental health, the quiet pull of addiction, the kind of grief that settles in the bones rather than announces itself.
At its core, It’s Closeness, It’s Easy is about stepping into middle age and taking stock. It confronts the reality of living with the hand that’s been dealt and searching for meaning in what remains. It speaks to loss—the crushing weight of saying goodbye to a beloved 17-year old cat, the slow-motion grief of watching friends self-destruct, the inescapable passage of time as it bears down on aging parents and the self. But it also reflects the warmth of reconnection, the kind of love that never burns out but instead deepens. The feeling of picking up where things left off, untouched by the years in between.

While written over the course of two years, the recording process reflects a sense of immediacy. Rather than assembling songs piece by piece over time, the album took shape in singular, immersive sessions—less an act of construction, more an unveiling of something already waiting to take shape.
Rooted in a staunch DIY ethos, Wasluck handles every aspect of Planning For Burial project himself—recording the music, designing the artwork, and performing live as a one-man band. He books his own tours, ever and independent creative. This hands-on approach has led Planning For Burial to play hundreds of shows solidifying his place in the underground music scene. A defining moment came in 2018 when he performed at the Meltdown Festival in London, curated by Robert Smith of The Cure.

Cindytalk is the mercurial, expressionist outlet of Scottish artist Cinder, inspired by the crossroads of exploratory UK post-punk and early European industrial. Her work thrives on chance and transformation, collaging elements of noise, balladry, soundtrack, catharsis, and improvisation. "We were trying to find our own space," says Cinder of the formative period Camouflage Heart emerged from, amidst a move from Edinburgh to London and Cinder's evolving exploration of gender identity, well before culture at large was equipped to understand. With contemporary discourse we see that the project manifested her transgender ideas as visceral music. The guttural, feral sound marked a notably darker turn from The Freeze's sixyear run on the fringes of punk. Changing the project's name became vital, not just because they kept hearing the former was already taken, but the desire to embody the spiritual and sonic shift, "to uncover new pathways_to feminize it," she says. Cinder, with bandmates David Clancy and John Byrne, arrived at Cindytalk, a winking nod to Sindy, the British fashion doll rival to Barbie known then for its pull-string talking mechanism. "The goal was to have a more interesting narrative, more interesting dialogue. Music was ultimately my only way of talking to people. That was my conversation with the world, an abstracted conversation_an attempt to make some kind of tiny, tiny mark, if possible, you hope somebody will notice." Over the years, Cinder has heard from fans who did pick up on the signals and find refuge in Camouflage Heart. Camouflage Heart plays with tension and pace, from creeping to feverish to claustrophobic. The percussion moves between restless marches and barely-there pulses; for some parts, they scratched and hit a tin bath, among other objects. Guitar lines vibrate and stab as Cinder contorts her voice freely. She pulls poetry from a cerebral abyss, like "make the snake in your eye, pierce the camouflage heart" on the slow-droning centerpiece "The Spirit Behind the Circus Dream." In that register is raw power, both vulnerable and menacing, an ability to locate something deep and emotionally charged within. "I still remember that person who was way too intense for their own good," Cinder reflects. "I couldn't make a record like that now, certainly not vocally, while that anger hasn't dissipated; there's still a kind of warrior." For all the destruction and disintegration of Camouflage Heart, Cinder maintains the objective was never full-on fatalistic; these songs seek not to destroy but to poke and provoke, to transform and heal, to find cracks of light in a crumbling world. She points to the last lines of the opening track, "It's Luxury": "Don't look down," the lyric pines through static and rhythm. Cinder extrapolates, "I'm essentially saying, just keep fucking going. As time went on, for me, that falling became flying. Camouflage Heart is the beginning of believing in flight."

Dune: Prophecy is an HBO original series based on the
best-selling books by Frank Herbert and Brian Herbert, and a spin-off to the blockbuster movies of Dune.

The music for the series was composed by Academy Award-winning composer Volker Bertelmann (All Quiet on
the Western Front, Conclave, Lion), whose evocative, futuris- tic ambience, meets bold, powerful orchestral tracks on this score, accompanying the story.

Set 10,000 years before the ascension of Paul Atreides, Dune: Prophecy follows two Harkonnen sisters as they combat forces that threaten the future of humankind and establish the fa- bled sect that will become known as the Bene Gesserit. Dune: Prophecy is inspired by the novel “Sisterhood of Dune”, writ- ten by Brian Herbert and Kevin J. Anderson.

The soundtrack of Dune: Prophecy is available as a limited edition of 1000 numbered copies on orange “Spice” marbled vinyl and includes a 4-page booklet with pictures from the series.

Collodion is the follow-up to Andrew Rumsey's 2023 solo debut Evensongs, which won widespread praise (from Mark Radcliffe on the BBC Radio 2 Folk Show, among others) as an unexpected gem of pastoral psych-folk 'An enchanting, enthralling album', according to Shindig! magazine. Next came Andrew's involvement with the Ghostwriter collective, whose September 2024 release on the Subexotic label Tremulant was described by Folking as 'hypnotically beautiful' and championed by author Sir Ian Rankin as a 'unique and spiritually enthralling listen ... with a touch of Bright Phoebus'. Collodion was (like its predecessor) recorded on a single day, in the historic setting of Rushall Church in Wiltshire, by RealWorld Studios'chief engineer Katie May. It features eight songs and a poem, with Andrew being joined by longtime collaborator David Perry on guitar and organ, plus jazz musician Cameron Saint on double bass. Collodion is a chemical used to develop images in early 'tintype' photography: these short songs, likewise, capture fleeting moods and moments before they fade.