Cerca:changed

Pauline Hogstrand's music – and Áhkká, in particular – is deeply inspired by both inner and outer influences, by the mystical as well as the rock-solid, by fictitious conversations and the queen mountain of Lappland (Áhkká).

Meaning "the old lady" in Lule Sámi, Áhkká is a barren, wild, exciting, beautiful, and sometimes grumpy mountain regardless of the season. Over the years, the mountain peaks, moss, birch forests, paths, streams, birds and people have shaped the surroundings, and the massif changed them in return - a reflection of a constantly ongoing development and emerging into greatness, surrounding and within. Speaking about why this mountain is so dear to her, the Denmark-based musician shares: "The nature there is harsh and raw and you can easily feel how it's so much bigger than you. Some people might feel overwhelmed or intimidated, but I feel that when acknowledging the greatness and the power nature consists, I can feel one with it. We come from the same source: I am a part of universe, and universe a part of me."

The music appearing on Áhkká (the album) simulates the dualities of ascent and descent, tension and release, inhale and exhale. Through implementing extended structures for analog and digital synthesis and processed acoustic instrumentations – strings, recorder, pipes and field recordings – Hogstrand expertly navigates these dual motions across two side-long pieces.

The opening "Herein" is slow, difficult, at times jagged and unwelcoming; just like climbing up a mountain early in the morning. Hogstrand shares that this piece is "about surrendering and letting go of control", especially during the last 10 minutes of the track which consist almost solely of an insistent and pulsating drone leading you to no man's land. "Magnitude" offers a release, glimpses of beauty, a softer, easier presence; descending, you're able to see beauty where previously you saw obstacles, perhaps the sun is up, breathtaking views in every direction... This piece is "about all that becomes available after letting go. Suddenly sight clears up in front of your eyes," shares the Swedish composer.

The magic ultimately lies in Hogstrand's perception and portrayal of contrasts – she does not view the two as opposites, but as one reality. "One greatness is not compromised by another greatness." In fact, the opposite is true – one without the other loses meaning, depth and context.

Life has changed in the eight years since the release of II. In ours, yours and Gala Drop themselves. Most times without noticing it, partly due to those two years of a semi-existence that still resonates and with the ongoing predatory gentrification process changing the landscape and life of Lisbon, home to the band since ever. Close to a decade and a half of existence, with various mutations along the way enacting new perspectives and moments of stillness and reflection to a sound that's been mutating itself to its own internal rhythm and agency under the guiding light of the core duo of Afonso Simões and Nélson Gomes. Now a trio, with Rui Dâmaso transitioning from II after the departure of Jerry the Cat and Guilherme Canhão, Gala Drop sound even more focused as a working band, with their new album title Amizade – friendship in Portuguese – making perfect sense in a celebration of their, by now, patented soundworld of cosmic inspiration: krautrock's endless and hypnotic potential, dub's sense of transient space, the throb of house, balearic dreams, polyrhythms and a communal sense of belonging.

Again, this sprawling sphere of influence opens itself to new shapes and inspirations, but there's a deeper sense of accuracy and direction, with the band channeling those legacies into something we can only grasp as the Gala Drop sound. An organic outcome of working steadily as a trio, made possible by a residency promoted by gnration in Braga, Amizade dwells on the psychedelic nature of the group through seven tracks made up of dreamy synth washes, loads of percussion, echoes, chilled guitars under a radiant aura. Gala Drop have never sounded as openly dubby as on 'Dub da Meia Noite' and 'Areal Dub' or capable of converging different tropes of the hardcore continuum – rave stabs and cut up vocals – on a slow burner as memorable as 'Monte do Ouro'. Or given free reign to electricity as on the narcotic guitars of 'Guitarra Voadora' – excepting the one off with Ben Chasny on 2012's Broda. 'Amizade' points towards all of that with comforting escapism and wrapping things up 'Raio' turns dubstep's original bass weight meditations into a cosmic funk workout. One last hug before we leave. An album that feels like a collective moment of celebration, just when we most need it.

Afonso Simões - Drums, percussion and synthesizers
Nelson Gomes - Electric guitar and electronics
Rui Dâmaso - Electric bass & guitar and synthesizer

Recorded by Budda Guedes at Estúdio Mobydick, Braga
Mixed by Gala Drop and Hugo Valverde at Estúdio Cão Andaluz, Lisboa
Mastered by Anne Taegert at Dubplates & Mastering, Berlim
Cover photo by Sara Graça
Design by Nicolai Sarbib

American rapper from Oak Park, Sacramento, California. He started rapping in 2004 under the name Lil Tim. The artist eventually changed his stage name to Mozzy in 2012. Until 2015, he had received little
attention until the release of this album which Rolling Stone magazine ranked as the 22nd best rap album of 2015. The same year also saw Mozzy being recognized by Complex as having "the best run of 2015." And 2018 found him appearing on the “Black Panther” soundtrack which introduced him to a mainstream audience. He has evolved over the years to become one of the most influential voices in his era of West Coast hip-hop.

*MILKY CLEAR VINYL - 300 COPIES ONLY FOR WORLD!!* Technology + Teamwork’s fizzling synths, interweaving textures and punchy rhythms are beguiling on their long-awaited debut album We Used To Be Friends. However, at the heart of it all it’s the connection between the group’s two members, Anthony Silvester and Sarah Jones, the friendship the much-travelled duo have managed to maintain for nearly 15 years and a showcase of the slow-burning construction of the electronic world that they’ve surrounded themselves with. We Used To Be Friends is ultimately the tale of two storied artists in their own right, holding onto each other through personal and career twists and turns, relocations and broader movements through respective phases of their lives. Silvester and Jones first met and then collaborated as part of biting post-punk five-piece XX Teens in 2008, eventually breaking off to forge their own path together even as the latter’s demand as a drummer grew. Performing with everyone from Hot Chip, Harry Styles and Bloc Party among many others, Jones has been a constant percussive presence across the sphere of alternative UK pop music – she’s also found time for her own solo project Pillow Person and played on records by the likes of Puscifer and Kurt Vile. Silvester meanwhile has performed in art galleries across Europe including: Fridericianum in Kassel, Kölnischer Kunstverein in Cologne, and Vleeshal in Middelburg, as well as providing sound design and composing work for several art films. Technology + Teamwork is the constant throughout all of that though. “Technology + Teamwork's name perfectly describes how we work” Silvester explains. “Sometimes the teamwork is between each other and sometimes it’s between us and the technology.” Although going by the name Technology + Teamwork as far back as 2014, two events conspired that pulled the project into focus for the pair of them: firstly, Silvester spent a year constructing a soundproof studio shed on the border of London and Essex where he lives. Secondly, inevitably, the pandemic brought the globe-trotting Jones back home to just seven miles away from her long-time collaborator and friend. “We probably hung out more than we had for a few years” says Silvester. “Also, after all her Pillow Person releases Sarah had gotten really good with recording vocals and knowing what did and didn’t work and had a really good home studio set up. We still worked separately though, exchanging ideas via email and WhatsApp.” As with many artists through 2020 and early 2021, working separately was a new necessity that they were forced to adapt to. However, it became clear that there were creative benefits to it. “It really changed our sound and our sounds became a lot more focused as a result” Jones says. “I wanted to use the same ideas of improvisation that I might use while playing the drums for myself and apply that to melodies and lyrics.” The album bristles with hyperpop modernity. You can hear it in the manipulated vocals most prominently on Big Blue’s disco strut and on Moving Too’s heady mix of pitched up voice and burrowing sub bass. However, the pair also looked to San Francisco and the West Coast synthesis movement of the 60s, Silvester inspired by the likes of Suzanne Ciani and Don Buchla. The plaintive lo-fi and melancholy of Amsterdam incorporates Mutable Instrument’s Marbles by Émilie Gillet which – inspired by Buchla’s own synthesis work – outputs random voltages to give the track an air of unpredictability. It’s something that occurs throughout the album, the duo revelling in the happy accidents that disrupt the flow of their hook-laden pop. “The ‘Buchlian’ ideas of music having randomness and uncertainty, completely freed us up” Silvester explains. “It felt a bit like having more members in the band, machines that didn't do what you expected or intended.” Perhaps more subtly, is the influence of 17th and 18th century Baroque music, with Silvester drawing a line between it and the 90’s R’n’B he and Jones both love – exemplified perhaps best on K+B’s percussive claps and sultry grooves. The portentous juddering synthpop of the title track, meanwhile, alludes specifically to Handel’s Sarabande. It’s typical of an album that only needs a scratch of its seemingly glossy surface to unearth a myriad of contorted touchstones and reference points that’ve fermented beneath it. Thematically there’s an anxious sense to the record, with tracks often balancing above a quiet sense of unerring tension even at their most bombastic. Moving Too is the result of an existential doubt that hit Silvester while out cycling, with the outro refrain "it's not enough to die you also have to be forgotten" a take on something Samuel Beckett once said. These worries are echoed on the album’s closing track What A Year, which borrows a lot of lines from the late drag performer and fashion designer Dorian Corey including the grimly defiant "you're gonna leave your mark somewhere in this world just by getting through it”. Those clouds offer a counter point to We Used To Be Friends, but then isn’t that what great pop albums do? Technology + Teamwork undoubtedly love the craft of the hook and the song, but they always position themselves left of centre, prepared to scuff things up, pull something out of shape or manipulate something to leave it sounding warped. Much like their friendship, nothing here is particularly linear – and it’s all the better for it. Bio: Anthony Silvester & Sarah Jones first collaborated as part of biting post-punk five piece XX Teens in 2008, eventually breaking off to forge their own path together even as the latter's demand as a drummer grew. Performing with everyone from Hot Chip, Bat for Lashes, Harry Styles and Bloc Party (among many others), Jones has been a constant percussive presence across the sphere of alternative UK pop music - she's also found time for her own solo project Pillow Person and played on records by the likes of Puscifer and Kurt Vile. Silvester meanwhile has performed in art galleries across Europe including Fridericianum in Kassel, Kölnischer Kunstverein in Cologne, and Wleeshal in Middelburg, as well as providing sound design and composing work for several art films. Technology & Teamwork is the constant throughout all of that though. "We Used To Be Friends" proves that Technology & Teamwork undoubtedly love the craft of the hook and the song, but they always position themselves left of centre, prepared to scuff things up, pull something out of shape or manipulate something to leave it sounding warped. Much like their friendship, nothing hear is particularly linear - and it's all the better for it.

Angelo is an LP, named after a car, featuring nine songs Brijean have crafted and carried with them through a period of profound change, loss, and relocation. It finds percussionist/singer Brijean Murphy and multi-instrumentalist/producer Doug Stuart processing the impossible the only way they know how: through rhythm and movement. The months surrounding the acclaimed release of Feelings, their full-length Ghostly International debut in 2021 which celebrated tender self-reflection and new possibilities, rang bittersweet with the absence of touring and the sudden passing of Murphy’s father and both of Stuart’s parents. In a haze of heartache, the duo left the

Bay Area to be near family, resetting in four cities in under two years. Their to-go rig became their traveling studio and these tracks, along with Angelo, became their few constants. Whereas Feelings formed over collaborative jams with friends, Angelo’s sessions presented Murphy and Stuart a chance to record at their most intimate, “to get us out of our grief and into our bodies,” says Murphy. They explored new moods and styles, reaching for effervescent dance tempos and technicolor backdrops, vibrant hues in contrast to their more somber human experiences. Angelo beams with positivity and creative renewal — a resourceful, collective answer to “what happens now?”

Angelo the car is a 1981 Toyota Celica they got off Craigslist during their first stint in Los Angeles, where Murphy and Stuart have since settled. “Such a bro-y, ‘80s dude car, it’s been super fun to drive around in a new town,” Murphy says. “He’s older than us, he’s a classic, he’s got a story.” It is a spiritual vehicle with a cinematic appeal, first dropping them off in an alleyway for the scene-setting intro, “Which Way To The Club.” The question is quickly resolved by “Take A Trip” as a cruising bassline mingles with crowd sounds, hand-claps, cuíca hiccups, whip-cracks, even a horse neigh. Brijean have found some club on this cross-dimensional trip — the kind of

imagined space or chamber within one’s self capable of “shifting a fraction of who you are,” says Murphy. They wrote the track with the simple intention to be “as free as we could be,” adds Stuart, likening the flip on the B section to a realm unlocked: ”What if the world changed completely? You open the door to a new room.”

Next is “Shy Guy,” a motivational anthem for the wallflowers among us. Murphy sets up the daydream: “We are in junior high, we’re on the dance floor, what’s going down, who is dancing, who is not, how are we gonna make them dance?” The narrator, the MC, hypes up the room as conga-driven rhythms bounce between languid synth and guitar lines. “Show me how to move...I feel something...I know you feel it too,” Murphy sings sweetly, calling back to the opening lines of Feelings, and this time the audience chants it back. It is easy to picture Brijean performing this one — something they only got to do a handful of times until more recently, opening shows for Khruangbin and Washed Out, an experience they found informative. Murphy explains, “It was inspiring to be out there and let loose more. To see how people can expand their expression on stage gave me more liberty with how I viewed my musicianship. My role for so long was to be a backup percussionist, so why would I ever leave the drums, you know? But then after playing all these runs, you see these artists and realize you can, you have permission.”

“Angelo” and “Ooo La La” deliver the danciest stretch in Brijean’s catalog to date. The title track adopts a deep house pulse replete with strings, hi-hats, and kicks. The latter opts for a funkier groove that foregoes verses in favor of warbled hums and extended breakdowns. What follows is perhaps the duo’s dreamiest run, a comedown initiated with the honey-hued interlude “Colors” drifting into “Where Do We Go?”, a tropicália reverie where Murphy contemplates the passage of time and space.

It all culminates in “Caldwell’s Way,” a fond farewell to their Bay Area community — “a part of my life that I knew couldn’t come back,” says Murphy. Above shimmering organ sounds, lush strings, and the birdcall of their former neighborhood, she wistfully articulates the uncertainty of moving on by remembering the characters dear to them. There’s the wisdom of their neighbor, Santos, who refused payment when helping them move out: “I’d rather have 100 friends than 100 dollars.” And the song’s namesake, Benjamin Caldwell Brown, a friend and club night cohort for many years. “I’m only miles away, maybe I’m just feeling lonely,” the line resigns to warm nostalgia, and “Nostalgia” runs the closing credits to this healing and transportive collection.

SHIFTING - The brandnew album by FRANK POPP ENSEMBLE, the first since 2005! It has been quiet during the last years, apart from an album as „Frank Popp“ called „Receiver“ in 2009 on his own label TV Eye Records. Frank Popp was always busy tho, working as a producer for other bands (Odd Couple, Sun And The Wolf, etc), designing hundreds of posters and booking top notch concerts in Berlin (The Jesus And Mary Chain, Billy Childish or 60s legends The Pretty Things, just to name a few. Once a month Mr. Popp runs several dance partys since many years. Now he is back at his desk for his own musical project FRANK POPP ENSEMBLE! And again he got help from many wonderful special guests lending this project their voices, such as Jesper Munk, Aydo Abay, Lucy Kruger, Kat Ott from 24/7 Diva Heaven, Anna Glahn and classic FPE singer Sam Leigh-Brown. Mr. Popp wrote, recorded, produced and mixed „Shifting" in Spain between january and march 2021, accompanied by Jascha Kreft (Odd Couple) for the songwriting sessions. The 16-song heavyweight takes us on a colourful journey through vintage soul scorchers, psychedelic soundtrack scapes, spector-esque sound walls, bootboy glamrock and even a riviera space-disco tune can be found on the new longplayer. Of course lotsa things changed in that many years. Many lyrics are written by Popp himself, out for trouble in impertinent phrasing here and there. The music has become mature and deeper and his voice can be heard on two songs, the first time ever. It sure is a remarkable piece of high quality music, that’s been delivered here. Watch out, world!

Deluxe limited edition vinyl LP of the unpublished Nenad Vilovic lost synth-masterpiece Prizma. The Yugoslavian and Croatian disco and pop chart-maker and once a Split International Music Festival headman (also in groups Grupa ST, Mladi Batali, etc.), producer of Dino Dvornik, Ambasadori, Oliver Dragojevic, Meri Cetinic, Leo Martin and many more, recorded this space-prog-electronica album in complete secrecy. It was refused in the 1980s by major Yugoslavian record labels for being too experimental, but it is actually a game changer in the field of socialist YU electronica. Miha Kralj, Laza Ristovski, Igor Savin and Kornelije Kovac now have company in the field of complex analog synthesizer concept albums, with this one being finally released by Fox & His Friends Records after 37 years of being shelved. Every instrument on this album has been played by Vilovic himself. This rare piece of vinyl is cut by Pauler Acoustics, mastered by Antony Ryan and features exclusive cover design by Eric Adrian Lee. The studio master is here presented in its entirety; no track was replaced or changed its order. This is how it was imagined to be released in 1985, when Nenad Vilovic played all instruments, produced, composed, arranged, recorded and even sang on the whole thing. However the title "Prizma" may suggest, this is not a structuralist concept album, but a conceptual use of his studio, instruments and musical knowledge. It mixes the ethnic, electronic, geographical and ambient roots of the crowned festival producer, hit-maker and fast-skilled studio musician who spent all of his money on new machines and his musical progress.

I’ve started to work on this album before I knew it.

During June 2018, I was in Japan for a month to release my previous album "Cairn" as well as my first solo exhibition of drawings in Tokyo.

Everyday on my way to the gallery I passed in front of the same building, its name kept haunting me : Rogue Hill.

Back then I was digging for cheap 80’s Japanese CD’s (Balearic, New Age, Ambient,...) in second hand stores. Most of them set the tone of this album and the direction I wanted to follow. I feel there’s a direct connection between these original sources and the sound I pursue by their meditative aspect.

Most of the demo songs were done before my daughter’s birth on August 2019 and were finalized since then. Many of the titles refer to this main event and relate to how it changed my position in life : being a link through time by becoming a father.