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African-born, Baltimore-based experimental hip-hop producer Infinity Knives joins PhantomLimb for the release of his unique debut album Dear, Sudan, a vibrant and polymathic labyrinth of moods and colours.

Infinity Knives - aka producer and musician Tariq Ravelomanana - moved from Tanzania (via Kenya, South Africa and Madagascar) to Baltimore with his family as a teenager, soaking up the raw,vociferous hip hop culture around him, devouring Western classical music, and embedding himself with the city’s verdant music scene. This unique combination of life experiences and contrasting strands of musical education empowered and enabled him to create his Infinity Knives guise, allowing us a window into his singular energy with Dear, Sudan.

​Tariq writes “Music has always been my medium. Since I was a child living in Tanzania, music has been my babysitter. The one central idea I kept dwelling on was that all humans experience sorrow, but despite the fact that it's universal, we still experience it as if we were alone.”

Appropriately, Infinity Knives casts a wide and thrilling net. Dear, Sudan runs like a masterful showreel of deftly balanced disparate elements, a late night channel-hopping between multiple, vital, powerful musics. Tariq himself offers “experimental, drone, hip hop, leftfield minimalism, neo-classical and Baltimore” as his key styles. “I wanted Dear, Sudan to be a record of the things that I enjoy, the things that keep me coming back to this life and I wanted it to be in the language I understand the most. I hope that this album can be a companion to those in need.”

Type “Was Joan of Arc” into Google and the suggested endings for this statement give you an accurate gauge of her place in pop culture: “Catholic” / “a nun” / “canonised” / “a prophet” / “French” / “a witch” and so on. Related questions to “What were Joan of Arc’s last words” on the info-sharing site Quora include “Was Joan of Arc bisexual” and “Was Joan of Arc simply crazy?” Everyone seems to agree this person was burned at the stake in 1431, but beyond that, Joan’s narrative is an enigma. It is this lack of definition that the production duo Pillow Queen harnessed for their second release, Burn Me Up. Inverting the image of the devout Christian girl, the Joan who stands as this record’s heroine was a heretic, a transvestite, most definitely a dyke and a hot femme-top at that.

Opening up the A-side, the title track is a call— a battle cry, but also a summoning. In a time of need one calls upon their patrons and elders from history; a DJ beckons and gathers dancers to the floor; prayer and sweat go hand and hand. A traditional Irish bodhrán drum beats out the first rhythms, joined by a steamy vocal sample that gets caught, chopped, and soon “Burns Me Up” is pumping along with organ chords and distorted keys. Pivoting away from the 4/4 format, “Submission” is a textured, downtempo slow-burner, with close-mic’d vocals from Vani-T and the D. Tiffany’s deft drum programming. When the choral pads come in, there’s an echo of the 1990s German worldbeat project Enigma, with its Gregorian chants and flutes laid on top of lounge beats—here, though, the chorus is stripped of kitsch, only driving the track deeper into a mood.

If Burn Me Up’s sequence of tracks is read as a kind of narrative, they seem to tell the story of Joan’s last moments. “Burn Me Up” is, frankly, heat—aggressive, the high-end crackles and the bass puts a pyre under one’s feet. “Submission” is like an exhale, a giving-in to death’s grip; there is, along with the sensuous tread, a melancholy. It only makes sense that one flips the record to “Resurrection”, which rolls in a tremolo’d wail of pitched vocals for 30 seconds before a kick drum begins the 141-BPM march. The percussion is central here, as the track shifts between polyrhythms like a range of resuscitations, varied heartbeats. “Salvation” closes the record, again dialling back the tempo to the deep nod of dub. To no surprise, the scene of redemption here is not one of sunlit cherubs—the church bell sample tolls one strike every few measures of bass-throb and shadow, while Vani-T intones, “Then he lay down and died”. Death can be salvation to some; living as many selves, living in contradiction, is a saving grace to many more.

“Don´t go out there, you might get shot” was the warning from Donna Maya relatives when she visited Detroit two years ago. That makes her even more curious to explore the city. Disturbed by, as well as fascinated from the dystopian state of Detroit she recorded many places that made (industrial) history, including the Ford factory, the world’s tallest, now abandoned central station and the once magnificent Michigan Theater, that was brutally converted into a parking garage. Donna Maya transformed the sound recordings into artificial sound sculptures combined with electronic beats. Every track is dedicated to one of those places and makes it musically alive. With her theremin Donna Maya guides the listener deeply inside. The result of Donna Mayas 6 weeksstay in Detroit is her album “Lost Spaces -> Detroit". “Lost Spaces ? Detroit” is about how to handle crises, how individuals get along with it and the relationship of society to its culture. Donna Maya understands Detroit as a perfect example for what capitalism does when people give up cultural values. With “Lost Spaces ? Detroit” Donna Maya draws a musical picture of how she experienced Detroit that shows that not only a city got lost, but a living space for everyone: Pure urban experimental electronics with theremin.

Presenting a collection of stone-cold classic breakbeats and b-boy jams from the sunkissed vaults of Miami's legendary TK Disco label!

NYC in the late 70's and early 80's saw a nascent street subculture fully evolve, a movement with it's own language, art, aesthetics, dances, fashion and way of living.

What would become what is now globally known as 'hip-hop' was in its infancy, with it's own legends and history being forged on an almost daily basis across the city's Black and Hispanic neighbourhoods. Music was central to hip-hop, the DJ was king and at the hands of people like Kool Herc, Grandmaster Flash, Grandmaster Flowers, Mean Gene, Jazzy Jay, Afrika Bambaataa, Charlie Chase and numerous other groundbreaking DJ's of the era, music took on a whole new meaning that would reverberate through popular culture for the rest of time.

The breaks - minute sections or breakdowns of a record where we get to the unadulterated groove and the band on the record cut loose - is what it was all about! Unlike the discotheque DJ's who favoured the long mixes and blends in their club scenarios, hip-hop DJ's were amassing huge collections of records that had these magical sections on them, often x 2 copies of each, so that they could elongate the best part of the record ad infinitum by cutting them up live - all killer no filler! These special on the fly mixes and edits were then unleashed in the local parks of their neighbourhoods, on gargantuan DIY sound systems for all of their friends and neighbours to party on down until the wee small hours. These breakbeat segments also gave the MC's space to address the gathered masses without their voices colliding with lavish string arrangements or vocals underneath. A clear, concise, stripped back slab of funk on which to put forth their ideas, feelings and rhymes for all to enjoy.

Collected here are some of those most infamous breakbeats, all from the TK vaults. These records were studied by these young DJ's, coveted, covered up, hunted down, whispered about in darkened corners by those who needed and obsessed over the freshest of beats. There's a good chance you will have heard these records in some form or another as they have been covered, sampled, recreated and spun in clubs across the galaxy for over 4 decades. These are the very building blocks upon which popular culture and club music have been built, and here they are all in one place for your listening enjoyment!

Released with love and respect by: Above Board and TK Disco, Miami FL. 2020.

Any self-respecting scene can not do without a muse. Albeit a fragile one. Xen is a central figure in the (now not so) new Tel Aviv scene, having fluttered from projects to projects (with Red Axes, with Yovav Arzi or the soon to come Levantines), being herself kind of everywhere she goes, fragile yet strong, as if she was gaining gravity from both the little black hole inside of her and from the Garzen galaxy. These four tracks written and produced with Dori Sadovnik from Red Axes may be the epitaph to Xen are romantic underachiever, her chrysalis. Pere Adam has been a hit (whatever that means these days) with many luminaries such as Vladimir Ivkovic or Ivan Smagghe, pure angst in psychedelic dub. On Zel Meshugah, Xen & Dori amp the gothic, though more moon than beach, proving once more that all good songs are about heartbreaks. There is a certain sixties folk air to Ir Beton, some lofi sun shining through Xen's adolescent clouds. This new found positivity finds its expression in the flea market funk of Sugar & Wine, Xen shouting to the stars that life, even if bumpy, is now really worth living. -Words By Ivan Smagghe

E.D.C wishes to explore electronic music through different universes where spaces, noises and textures are central to the creative process. His researches aim to experiment and think outside the box, allowing us to navigate through purposely-colored music and other worlds where Every Detail Counts.

In this first release, the reverberations in each track create a shaking outcome that warns about the upcoming epic adventure with the wind of indestructibility that the tracks blow in our direction.

Endless is the key to understanding the whole release. Electric from the first second, it explains the journey we are about to embark on. Dark and almost gloomy from the beginning, the break gives the impression of a light breakthrough, as if the way suddenly clears.

The City of Clones takes us to a heavy atmosphere, as if we were waiting in the middle of a fog for the untying of the plot, though the denouement remains uncertain.

When Nobody Cares is an experimental journey through unexplored landscapes, with the discoveries marching under our eyes, which contribute to create an experience of fullness.

Too Many Ifs reminds and completes the cycle. Chaotic on purpose, it unveils the encounter of an intriguing living shape.

Translated from Spanish as 'The Shade', Chip Wickham's debut album La Sombra drops after a 25-year career touring, recording and experimenting across three decades of jazz, funk, soul, hip-hop, Latin and electronica. La Sombra is a monumental record for Chip as it symbolises the moment he stepped out into the light as a director of his creations with freedom to explore his roots, express and tell his version of jazz and pay testament to his heroes Roland Kirk, Yuseef Lateef & Harold McNair.

Now living in Dubai after an intense and productive six years in Madrid, it was Manchester where Chip studied in the late '80s and became enmeshed in the chaotic and thrilling music scenes emanating from one of the world's most culturally prominent cities of the time. Recording and generally 'keeping things real' with Manchester's hip-hop collective Grand Central Records, Rae & Christian, The Pharcyde, Fingathing, Nightmares on Wax, Graham Massey (808 State), Chip was in a city that was undergoing a music revolution with the Haçienda as its temple. Yet it was the headlights of the M62 motorway and not the strobe lights that were lighting Chip's path during his student years ('88-'92). The lure of the jazz and funk clubs of Leeds, where The New Mastersounds were breaking out and building the blocks that would lead them to UK funk royalty status, proved too strong.

In the 1990s Chip continued to refine his craft in the rainy city and the gigs booked were growing in stature. It wasn't long before he was on the road with Roy Ayers and Badly Drawn Boy. Around that time Chip met up with trumpeter Matthew Halsall that was the beginning of a friendship that lasts to this day. Chip was a recording artist on Matthew Halsall's breakout album Sending My Love and continues to work with him, with live dates confirmed in spring 2017. This close connection with Halsall gave rise to other collaborations, such as with Nat Birchall and Go Go Penguin's Rob Turner.

Three decades after his late night excursions to Leeds, Chip found himself recording with Eddie Roberts from The New Mastersounds in Madrid, as part of their new band, The Fire Eaters, which he'd formed soon after he moved to sunny Spain in 2007 - the same year he released the Fried Samba album under his moniker Malena, his electronic Latin band that became a hit at the turn of the century for Freestyle Records. During his time in Spain he connected with the local scene and brought together many of his musicians colleagues from the UK to Spain and it was for a local and well established label, Lovemonk, that he released two 45s blending raw funk and Latin. These new roads and musical leanings led to an invitation to play for the prestigious Craig Charles Fantasy Funk Band. Based on a poll from Craig Charles' top rated BBC6 radio show, Chip was chosen to play alongside the cream of the UK funk & soul scene: James Taylor (JTQ), Snowboy, The Haggis Horns (Mark Ronson), John Turrell (Smooth & Turrell), and Mick Talbot (The Style Council).

La Sombra takes an altogether more rooted direction than Chip's recent collaborative work, with the jazz of the late '60s and early '70s a dominating influence to the recordings. Comprising of seven tracks recorded in Madrid with musicians assembled by Chip from Madrid's jazz scene, it combines contemplative explorations akin to Yusef Lateef's early work on tracks like 'La Sombra' and 'Pushed Too Far'. There's a fiery cover of Camarón de la Isla's classic 'La Leyenda Del Tiempo' and tracks like 'Sling Shot' and 'Red Planet' are locked in a groove harking back to Freddie Hubbard's Blue Note era and Luv N Haight's Nathan Davis.