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On High Flying Man, the third LP by Matt Berry’s pseudo-eponymous project The Berries, loss and desire take center stage. Berry delves deep into 21st century malaise, crafting densely layered songs which project an unshakable yearning for deliverance from the world’s shortcomings. Each track extends an outstretched palm towards universal connection, blending a complex of mix of pop hooks, rock swagger, and psychedelia into dejected populist anthems. Faced with the perils of an isolating world, High Flying Man reignites the tradition of great American songwriting, speaking in the voice of the longing masses. At heart, Berry demands more life, rejecting both arty cynicism and nostalgic escapism.

Berry cut his teeth at a young age playing in the bands Happy Diving (Topshelf Records) and Big Bite (Pop Wig), and has since regularly served as a touring member for bands like Angel Dust and Dark Tea. His early work with Happy Diving and Big Bite solidified his position as an upcoming star in the world of fuzzed-out indie rock, earning him tours and opening slots with the likes of Turnstile, Dinosaur Jr., Nothing, The Swirlies, and The Coathangers. With The Berries, however, Berry turns the Big Muffs down (although not off), creating sonic space to stretch his wings as a burgeoning pop songwriter. The psychedelic-surrealist textures of his earlier output are not gone, per say, but rather find themselves folded into more expansive, rock-oriented arrangements, becoming accoutrements as opposed to the driving force of each song itself.

High Flying Man follows The Berries’ previous releases, 2018’s Start All Over Again and 2019’s Berryland. While longtime listeners will undoubtedly recognize Berry’s disaffected drawl and melodic sensibility, High Flying Man’s complex arrangements and expansive sonic landscape place it well apart from its predecessors. Berry enlisted live band members Danny Paul (drums), Emma Danner (backing vocals), and Lance Umble (bass) during the recording of High Flying Man, as well as the mixing talents of Rob Schnapf (Elliott Smith, Beck, Guided by Voices), breaking from the self-produced home recording ethos of the previous Berries LPs. The collaborative nature of High Flying Man’s recording process is reflected in the quality of each song’s arrangement. Freed from the pressure of being individually responsible for every detail committed to tape, Berry was able to focus his attention more fully on the creative demands of constructing a dynamic and cohesive record. High Flying Man pivots away from any sort of obvious nod to Americana tropes, baggy British attitude, or Neil Young-esque riffing, leaning head on into a lush, idiosyncratic grandeur.

Each track evokes the irreverent and flashy style of a songwriting voice finding itself for the first time. Berry’s guitar heroics extend towards new heights, channeling the simple pop mastery of Lindsay Buckingham (“Prime”) and the wicked emotion of a 21st century “November Rain” (“High Flying Man”). Unusual stylistic juxtapositions give certain songs an almost timeless quality: Bert Jansch-esque crooning finds its counterpoint in sweeping, distortion-soaked riffs (“A Drop of Rain”), the primitive rhythms of Amon Duul are given an arena-sized, Britpop facelift (“Life’s Blood”). On High Flying Man, however, the ballad reigns supreme. “Down That Road Again” drips with sentimentality, powered by soft, undeniable pop melodies and pared-down chord progressions. Album-centerpiece “Eagle Eye” teeters between pure grace and extreme sorrow, unfolding into a massive, immediately memorable tide of melancholic beauty.

Lyrically, High Flying Man is both simple and direct. Although often bitter about the state of the world, Berry has no overtly political axe to grind. In some instances, he takes jabs at the moral laziness of aging millennials, expressing his yearning for a return to vitality and conviction (“Prime”). In other instances, Berry turns his criticism inwards, examining his longing for a better life and his repeated tendency to self-sabotage (“Down That Road Again”). These two poles balance each other out, creating a thematic tenor which is more so self-implicating and empathetic than critical. If anyone is to blame, it is the world we have been saddled with, not the people left to pick up its pieces. Although often personal, Berry’s words evoke a universal experience of continued belief in the face of loss. “High Flying Man” chronicles the growing distance between Berry and an old friend who has been shipwrecked by the weight of trauma, evoking the sorrow of trying to love someone who is no longer able to keep up with reality. Even the most somber passages of “Eagle Eye” (“long before I become aware of it, my friend/it’s 6 AM and I’m gonna die”) find their redemption in a burning devotion towards something worth living for (“If there’s one thing I can depend on/it’s my old friend/my shining light/my eagle eye”).

With High Flying Man, Matt Berry embraces undying love in the face of isolation. Daring to want more life becomes a spiritual rallying cry against a world that has failed to make life either meaningful or beautiful. At their core, these songs are not about revolution, but they are about the faith that gives something like revolution a purpose in the first place.

As the 1970's turned into the 1980's Reggae's beat took another turn,slowing down to allow more space for the music to breathe.
The new sound became Reggae's focus and the Roots Radics one of Jamaica's finest session/backing bands were at the forefront of this radical change.
The Roots Radics were based around the nucleus of Errol'Flabba'Holt(bass),Lincoln Valentine 'Style' Scott(drums) and Eric 'Bingi Bunny'Lamont(guitar).
Holt and Bingi Bunny had previously been involved in the Morwells label set up and had cut some popular tunes such as 'Swine and Dine','They Hold Us Down' and the great 'Kingston Twelve Tuffy'.
Before this Bunny had played for one of the other great Reggae sessions band the Channel One based Revolutionaires.
It was the demise of this legendary band due to Sly and Robbie's commitments to their own Taxi label that led to the formation of the Roots Radics.
The Radics have worked with many different producers over the years including Linval Thompson with the series of alums 'Space Invaders Destroy the World' and 'Win the World Cup'.They also worked as Gregory Isaacs backing band and were responsible for the rhythms that made up his seminal 'Night Nurse' set.
We have caught the Roots Radics for this set cutting rhythms in their favourite environment the famous Channel One Studios.
On this occasion working with producer Ossie Thomasfor his own Black Solidarity label,a match made in Heaven...Enjoy..

180 gram Vinyl reissue originally released in 1983
Produced & Arranged by: Earl Morgan
Vocals: Earl Cunningham
Backing Band: The Roots Radics
Drums: Lincoln Valentine 'Style' Scott
Bass: Errol 'Flabba' Holt
Lead Guitar: Eric 'Bingy Bunny' Lamont
Rhythm Guitar: Eric 'Bingy Bunny' Lamont
Organ: Wycliffe 'Steely' Johnson
Piano: Wycliffe 'Steely' Johnson
Recorded at: Channel One Recording Studio, Kingston, Jamaica
Engineer: Anthony 'Crucial Bunny'/'Bunny Tom Tom' Graham
Voiced & Mixed at: Tubby Recording Studio, Kingston, Jamaica
Engineer: Winston 'Professor' Brown
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High ranking anthem from 1982 with the Roots Radics in full effect and backed by world cup winning Scientist dub. Sampled countless times in drum and bass, this is the first time legit seven inch pressing for this original ruling version. Both tracks produced by Henry "Junjo" Lawes, recorded at Channel One and mixed by Scientist at King Tubby’s studio. Limited one-time press only, 7-inch-single with Jah Guidance label prints in a grey/white sleeve with Johnny Osbourne and "Junjo" images. European pressing.

Quinn Oulton’s debut album ‘Alexithymia’ is a deconstruction of the struggle that many young men face when processing and expressing strong emotions. It takes the form of a linear story, pieced together from many moments of emotional intensity Quinn has faced throughout his life, existing within all types of personal relationships. This is a project that sees the stylistic and textural experimentation from his previous work fuse into a powerfully creative, personal, and emotive sound, channelling the albums title name: ‘Alexithymia’ is the inability to recognize or describe one's own emotions.

The album was written, performed and co-produced by Quinn Oulton, and it includes tracks featuring Moses Boyd and Genevieve Artadi.

“My album ‘Alexithymia’ dissects events from different relationships, whether family, friends, or romantic, presented as a single story from start to finish. Obsession, frustration, passion, false hope, grief, self-pity, helplessness, and acceptance are all part of this story.

I wrote it in this way because I was trying to work out why I connect so much with sad or melancholic music, and I realised that maybe listening to that music was filling a hole that I didn’t know I had. It was comforting to hear somebody process their own troubles outwardly when I didn't feel I had a way, or even a reason, to do so myself. Writing the album has been an extremely therapeutic process as I've been able to seek out difficult parts of my life that I'd buried because I couldn't process them at the time.

I think a lot of people, particularly men, struggle to recognise and process their own emotions. It makes it very hard to share them with others, and it’s something that needs addressing to allow for healthier relationships with other people and yourself.”

21st Century pop is curiously irrelevant: autotune, twelve 'writers' on a single song, sensationalist yet skin-deep social commentary . . . with none of the joy, excitement and surprises of pop's lengthy heyday, from the Brill Building through the New Wave era. Where did it go? That would be an apt introduction to an album of calculated throwbacks to a three-minute pop ideal . . . but No Place Like Home isn't that record. We doubt even Gemma could tell you where this collection of beguiling jewels came from exactly, each fully-formed, complete and satisfying, no two quite alike, and each devoid of Wet Leg or Dry Cleaning's crafty calculation, but with every bit of those acts' charm. The first single, Stop, is based on an idea so simple that it's nearly unfathomable why no one had come conjured it earlier. Like toilet paper or a pair of scissors, the song feels entirely obvious until one ponders its late arrival. Stop's motorik beat propels verses to a chorus of pure delight, bested by a bridge occurring so late in the tune that it comes across like a surprise second dessert. My Idea Of Fun, a tale of frequent drunken regret, comes with a video of minimalist humour and visual brilliance. On other songs, Gemma channels acts Delta 5, Au Pairs and The Raincoats, along with the humour of Ian Dury and a similar verité of London life found in the best of Madness. The more serious fare is equally compelling. Rabbit Hole projects a daring newness of young freedom, Dance Of A Thousand Faces veers into Sprechstimme and expands into a swooping chorus, the feel of which subtly conveys present-day tensions reminiscent of the Weimar era. Tailspin captures the dark feeling which comes burdened with real-time consciousness of a loss of control, while the album closer, Frida, a tale of the loss of a dear friend manages to end in a guardedly upbeat tone. Gemma's debut album is sure to stir up deep interest and will be supported by a number of videos and live performances, plus free digital singles featuring otherwise unavailable non- album tracks.

Top roots outing from the mellow canary on this dreadlocks man 1979 classic, backed by the Roots Radics in full effect on the big showdown Scientist dub. Both tracks produced by Henry "Junjo" Lawes and recorded at Channel One studio. Limited one-time press only, 7-inch-single with Jah Guidance label prints in a grey/white sleeve with Barrington Levy and "Junjo" images. European pressing.

Tape
Los Angeles native Sha Sha Kimbo undeniably lives for the rave. As exemplified through her every intentional move as a producer, DJ, promoter, radio host and label owner, Sha Sha radiates an unwavering love for amplifying, nurturing and supporting the culture of underground electronic music and the community that surrounds it, with her forthcoming release absolutely no exception to this.

Set for release as a digital download and limited edition cassette tape on August 13, the LA rave staple is happy to announce her debut EP on Evar Records, Total Chaos. A brilliant testament to the cathartic importance of staying up late and getting lost in a buzzing crowd of kindred spirits, Total Chaos harnesses the universal experience of having pent-up energy into massive, angst-ridden breakbeat anthems. Over six tracks, Sha Sha channels the hair-raising spirit of '90s rave along with her formative experiences with DMZ-via-Low End Theory dubstep and punk rock. Finding her place within LA's bass music, house, techno and rave scenes while defying easy categorization, Sha Sha personifies the no-rules electronic music ethos behind John Frusciante and Aura T-09's Evar Records. To supplement Total Chaos' three originals, LYZZA, Machine Girl and LCY provide three raw remixes highlighting various aspects of Sha Sha Kimbo's renegade rave spirit.

Drawing from the Los Angeles punk rock and '90s rave music that soundtracked her youth, Total Chaos personifies how she grew up on the dance floor, showcasing Sha Sha's tried and true ability to express rich, nuanced emotions through tracks that, first and foremost, can level a warehouse party. Kicking off the vibe on July 30, the EP's lead single "Save The World" is a perfect representation of this, with the jump-up rave cut employing a megaton breakbeat and sickly-sweet vocal samples over simmering base of dark, UK-influenced atmospherics. From the late night energy of the title track to the euphoric, dawn-breaking feel of "Limited Perfect," Total Chaos offers the refuge of a robust dance floor with the warm reassurance to be one with the universe.

Rounding out Total Chaos EP are three remixes that amicably and serendipitously support Sha Sha Kimbo's visionary aim to both explore the unknown and bring people together along the way. Brazilian-born, Amsterdam-based powerhouse LYZZA adds a full verse and a nest of serrated rhythms to her version of "Total Chaos," while New York's Machine Girl applies their trademark punk electronics approach to "Save The World." Meanwhile, Bristol's own LCY hollows out "Limited Perfect" into a haunting amalgam of post-punk minimalism and low-frequency pressure. A study of the opposing light and dark energies of underground dance music, Total Chaos presents a breakbeat-heavy vortex, sure to awaken everyone's inner raver.

Dewa Alit, Bali’s master of contemporary Gamelan composition, returns to Black Truffle with Chasing the Phantom, presenting two recent works played by the composer’s Gamelan Salukat, a large ensemble that performs on instruments specially built to his designs, using a unique tuning system that combines notes from two traditional Balinese Gamelan scales. Alit explains that the ensemble’s name suggests “a place to fuse creative ideas to generate new, innovative works” and both compositions demonstrate the composer’s ability to wring stunning new possibilities from variations on the traditional Gamelan ensemble. While using familiar elements of Balinese Gamelan music, such as unison scalar melodies and stop-start dynamics, Alit’s music is overflowing with harmonic, rhythmic, and timbral inventions, the latter often facilitated by unorthodox playing techniques.

“Ngejuk Memedi”, an English translation of which gives the LP its title, results from Alit’s reflection on the complex relationship between tradition and modernity in Balinese culture, particularly in the way that belief in the phantoms or spirits known as ‘memedi’ are shared through social media using digital technologies. Embodying this uncanny co-existence, the opening passages of the piece are at once immediately recognisable in their use of the metallophones of the Gamelan ensemble and strikingly reminiscent of electronics in their timbre and movement. At points, what we hear seems to have been fragmented with digital tools, or even to originate in some incessantly glitching DX7. Short melodic figures loop irregularly, with the ensemble splintering into polyrhythmic shards before unexpectedly recombining for intricate unison passages. After several minutes of this manically tinkling metallic sound world, the metallophones are joined by drums for a meditative passage of lower dynamics, as the uniformly high pitch range explored in the opening sections gradually opens up to include resonant low gong hits. Recovering some of the manic energy of the opening, but now enhanced with the full range of percussion, the piece weaves through a series of tempo changes to a stunning passage of rapid-fire melodies and ringing chords that sweep across the metallophones, their unorthodox tuning creating complex clouds of wavering harmonies.

“Likad”, written during Covid-19 lockdowns, channels anxiety and uncertainty into musical form, resulting in a piece that, even by Alit’s standards, is stunning in its complexity and the virtuosity it demands of Gamelan Salukat. Its opening section is perhaps most remarkable for its mastery of texture, with rapid transitions between dry, muted strikes and metallic shimmers calling to mind the use of filters in electronic music. At points, the complex irregular repetitions of short melodic patterns, where the music seems to get stuck or be suddenly interrupted by a skip, recall the mad sampler works of Alvin Curran or the skittering surface of prime period Oval more than anything familiar from acoustic percussion music. Moving through a dizzying series of twists and turns, the piece ends with a majestic sequence of chords possessing an almost hieratic power. A major statement from a radical contemporary composer, one cannot help but agree with Alit when he sees Chasing the Phantom as an answer to the “question of the future of Gamelan music”.

Following on from acclaimed recent releases on Hallow Ground and Boomkat’s Documenting Sound series, NOISEEM is a major new work from Japanese sound artist/instrument inventor Yosuke Fujita, who performs under the name FUJIIIIIIIIIIIITA. Where Fujita’s recent recorded output has focussed primarily on documentation of his remarkable self-built pipe organ, NOISEEM is the culmination of half a decade of work with highly amplified water. The evocative and timbrally rich sound of water has inspired concrete and experimental music practices since ground-breaking works such as Hugh Le Cain’s ‘Dripsody’ and Knud Viktor’s obsessively aquatic ‘Images’. However, other than his compatriot Tomoko Sauvage, few have explored the possibilities of water in live performance to the extent that Fujita has, constructing a series of water tanks that, with their pumps and amplification controlled by the performer, become a new musical instrument. The recordings contained here are drawn from live performances in Tokyo and London, edited and mixed by Fujita into two side-length pieces dominated by water, pipe organ, voice and subtle electronics. On ‘AWA’, which occupies the LP’s first side, the listener is immediately immersed in an aqueous world of recognisable drips and splashes, as well as more mysterious squeaks and squawks. While the liberal use of delay at times conjures up the sound world of early electronic music, the sparklingly clear amplification is unmistakably contemporary, lending the music a stunning weight and tactility. Building over several minutes, the piece eventually comes to a rapid boil, criss-crossed by washes of white noise splashes of electronics, before the untempered long tones of the pipe organ enter. The slowly shifting harmonies lend the remainder of the side a meditative, almost oneiric quality, inviting listeners to lose themselves in the aquatic layers that ripple across the harmonic foundation. On the second side, ‘UZU’ begins more starkly, with a single rapid bubble, quickly joined by full-spectrum wooshes and silvery, ringing tones. After a few minutes, the music undergoes a radical, entirely unexpected shift with the entry of a distorted, auto-tuned voice that repeatedly cycles through ascending and descending melodies. Left alone at times to be heard acapella, this mysterious element at times takes an odd resemblance to dhrupad singing. Eventually joined by rich, sonorous chords from the organ, the high tones of Fujita’s voice, and water, the piece takes on an ecstatic quality, channelling the sublime expansiveness of the natural element on which it is built. Disappearing as abruptly as they entered, the voices then make way for a haunted coda of isolated drips and distant whistles. Far from the intellectualised abstraction of much sound art, NOISEEM is strikingly immediate, both rigorously experimental in its explorations and unashamedly direct in its musicality. Tracklist 1. Awa 2. Uzu

In the late 90’s and early aughts, internet video capabilities like Real Video and Quicktime were expanding, proving the early prophecy that ‘anyone would be able to have their own television channel on the internet’ was indeed coming true. After the critical success of Mulholland Drive, director David Lynch doubled down on the medium, funneling virtually all of his time into personally animating, filming, and scoring content for his own internet destination: davidlynch.cm. It was fertile and limitless ground for a creative like Lynch, allowing him to return to the days of his experimental film roots, where it was actually possible for him to have his hands on every element of the process.

It was out of this newfound digital freedom that the early seeds of Inland Empire were born, evolving and fissuring from an internet-bound experiment itself, into something much more expansive. The film collated a variety of ideas and working methods that the recent web paradigm had nurtured in Lynch, one of which was an increased frequency of his own solo music productions. Having finished constructing his own personal recording studio in 1998, he was no longer tethered to the scheduling and high premiums of rented studio time and was free to accelerate his musical experimentation without constraint. As a direct result of this was a unique shift in Lynch’s musical trajectory; a shift that would eventually bear multiple albums and a short film featuring a lounge-crooning monkey. In the first weeks of 2005, Lynch would record a blues instrumental and instead of getting someone else to sing on the song, he would sing, via a formant and pitch-altering piece of equipment known as the Boss VT-1. It was because of the davidlynch animated series “Dumbland” that the director had discovered the device that would enable him to be ‘any character he needed.’ With “Ghost of Love,” Lynch was experimenting with bringing those ‘characters’ into his own musical compositions. Intrue Lynch fashion, it’s difficult to know which inspired which: did “Ghost of Love” birth a scene in Inland Empire, or did the film’s ideas birth the song? Just as “In Heaven” had served to encapsulate Eraserhead, “Ghost of Love” managed to encapsulate Inland Empire allowing its listener to close their eyes and immediately channel the film’s images and mood onto the screen of the mind.

“Ghost of Love” is backed with “Imaginary Girl,” originally released via CD single in 2006 are now finally seeing their vinyl and digital release for the first time in celebration of Inland Empire’s 2022 theatrical re-release. Both are signature cinematic Lynchian classics that feature Lynch on guitar and vocals, accompanied by his long-time collaborator and Sacred Bones staple Dean Hurley on bass.

Debut full-length collaboration from Jack Burton and Rory Glacken (Tourist Kid)
Follows Jack Burton's solo LP on Analogue Attic and Tourist Kid's solo LP on Melody As Truth
Early support from Ben Fester, Best Effort/DJ Earl Grey, Biscuit (Good Morning Tapes), Brian Not Brian, Ewan Jansen, Kato, Merve, Sleep D & Wax'o Paradiso
Dentistry is the dual energies of Rory Glacken and Jack Burton, Boorloo originals now living in Naarm. The pair have previously released an EP, "Ribbons," on their own Deep Water label, and a track on its local showcase comp "Greenhouse Vol. I" at the end of 2021. This transmission is their debut full length offering, channeled through hometown beacon Good Company Records.

"LP1" was created in unusual conditions between September and December of 2020, when the duo's shared Northcote studio became a site of remote collaboration. One person would start working on a track and leave the session open for the other, with no overlap of physical space shared. Responding to an invitation from GCR to make a record, the initial impulse was to write dance music. But what dance floor were these incorporeal partners writing for?

The album takes a spectral approach to the dance space, wrapping up air in a strata of textural tech, pulsing dub house and fractal illbience. Drawing on dub production techniques, "LP1" combines the structure of an ambient record with intricate percussive elements. Results are both atmospheric and material, abstract and palpable: a synthesis which expresses sonic relations of surface and depth, with the correlating mirage of light and shadow.

At times tinkering methodically and others in mercurial lurch, there is an immediacy to this album that stems from the way it was produced, using a mixing desk and outboard gear to rich and living effect. When we listen, we commune with the artists in the heat of working out of an otherworldly space, and feel every tweak and and turn. "LP1" is a current which carries the substance of process in communicable form. Intuitive and moving, breathing, dancing.

DENGUE FEVER's debut album was all covers of the cute, romantic
Cambodian pop of the 1960s - Having gotten that out of their systems,
they've followed it with an album of original material that shatters the
language barrier with mildly psychedelic, blissed out pop
On "Tip My Canoe", Zac Holtzman takes a stab at singing in Khmer, laying those
long, mellifluous syllables over a tweaky vamp, as Nimol uses her imposing pipes
to trace accents so dynamic that they sound almost vocodered as she leaps
around her impressive range. "Sni Bong" channels Dick Dale through its verses
and explodes into crunchy garage rock choruses, with a– wait for it– Cambodian
rap bridge. "One Thousand Tears of a Tarantula" pairs sun- baked spaghetti
western guitars with Nimol's clipped, forceful singing, and acoustic ballad
"Hummingbird" closes the album on a quiet note, with Nimol sliding between
English and Khmer. If that fact that Dengue Fever's music has been used in films
as diverse as Jim Jarmusch's Broken Flowers and the John Cusack vehicle Must
Love Dogs isn't proof enough of its potent versatility, then the ease and unity with
which the band conflates idioms should be.

Felicia Atkinson’s music always puts the listener somewhere in particular. There are two categories of place that are important to »Image Langage«: the house and the landscape. Inside and outside, different ways of orienting a body towards the world. They are in dialogue, insofar as in the places Atkinson made this record—Leman Lake, during a residency at La Becque in Switzerland, and at her home on the wild coast of Normandy—the landscape is what is waiting for you when you leave the house, and vice-versa. Each threatens—or is it offers, kindly, even promises? —to dissolve the other. Recognizing the normalization of home studios these days, she revisited twentieth-century women artists who variously chose, and were chosen by, their homes as a place to work: the desert retreats of Agnes Martin and Georgia O’Keefe, the life and death of Sylvia Plath. Building a record is like building a house: a structure in which one can encounter oneself, each room a song with its own function in the project of everyday life.

At times listening to »Image Langage« is immediate, something like visiting a house by the sea, sharing the same ground, being invited to witness Atkinson’s acts of seeing, hearing, and reading in a sonic double of the places they occurred. In an aching moment of clarity in »The Lake is Speaking,« a pair of voices emerge out of the primordial murk of piano and organ, accompanying the listener to the edge of a reflective pool that makes a mirror of the cosmos. "I open my feet to fresh dirt, and the wet grass. I hold your hand. You hold his hand. In the distance without any distance. The comets, the stars." At other times, listening to »Image Langage« is more like being in a theatre, the composition a tangle of flickering forms and media that illuminate as best they can the darkness from which we experience it. On »Pieces of Sylvia,« a noirish orchestra drones and clatters beneath and around a montage of vocal images, stretching the listener across time, space, subjectivities. Atkinson says that "Image Langage" is like the fake title of a fake Godard film. There is indeed something cinematic about Atkinson’s work—not cinematic in the sense that it sounds like the score for someone else’s film, but cinematic in the sense that it produces its own images and langage and narratives, a kind of deliberate, dimensional world-building in sound.

»Image Langage« is built from instruments recorded as if field recordings, sound-images of instruments conjured from a keyboard, instruments Atkinson treats like characters, what she calls “a fantasy of an orchestra that doesn’t exist.” And then, speaking of Godard, there are the monologues, operating as both experimental-cinematic device and a literary style of narration. Voice can be a writerly anchor or a wisp of a textural presence. Atkinson’s capacious and slippery speech plunges into and out of the compositional depths, shifting shapes, channelling the voices of any number of beings, subjectivities, or elements of her surroundings—not unlike her midi keyboard, able to speak as a vast array of instruments.

»Image Langage« is an environmental record, in the vastest sense of the world. It is about getting lost in places imagined and real; it registers, too, the dizzying feeling of moving between such sites. It puts forth a concept of self that is hopelessly entangled with the rest of the world, born of both the ache of distance and the warmth of proximity.

For Félicia Atkinson, human voices inhabit an ecology alongside and within many other things that don’t speak, in the conventional sense: landscapes, images, books, memories, ideas. The French electro-acoustic composer and visual artist makes music that animates these other possible voices in conversation with her own, collaging field recording, MIDI instrumentation, and snippets of essayistic langage in both French and English. Her own voice, always shifting to make space, might whisper from the corner or assume another character’s tone. Atkinson uses composing as a way to process imaginative and creative life, frequently engaging with the work of visual artists, filmmakers, and novelists. Her layered compositions tell stories that alternately stretch and fold time and place, stories in which she is the narrator but not the protagonist.

It's hard to believe it's taken this long for a proper retrospective of legendary Los Angeles collective CVE. "We Represent Billions" is a crucial portrait of one of the West Coast's most low-key influential crews - a hydra-like collective of rappers, producers, designers and engineers who were key members of the Good Life Cafe's open mic scene, going on to inspire artists like Jurassic 5, Kendrick Lamar amongst many other. Initially called Chillin Villain Posse before morphing into Chillin Villain Empire in the late 1980s, they eventually centered around the core trio of Riddlore, NgaFsh and Tray-Loc. The crew were years ahead of their time, self-producing music without samples and pioneering a stream of consciousness lyrics that still sound fresh and innovative. CVE were self-sufficient and motivated from the beginning, named "Chillin Villains" because that's how they were perceived by white America. This social motivation was channeled into their groundbreaking performances at Good Life Cafe, the South Central session that evolved into Project Blowed and later on came to influence LA club night 'Low End Theory'. It was chronicled by Ava Duvernay, herself an MC in short-lived duo Figures of Speech, in her "This is the Life" documentary, where she interviewed CVE alongside Jurassic 5, Freestyle Fellowship, Abstract Rude and Busdriver. On "We Represent Billions", we're treated to a snapshot of the CVE sound from 1993-2003, their most prolific era. The retrospective collects music from the handful of albums the crew released on their own Afterlife Recordz label (mostly as limited edition CD-R's) plus many previously unreleased tracks and highlights their untethered eccentric creativity and sheer breadth of influence. Whether twisting twitchy West Coast electro on 'All Over Da Globe' or free associating over horror synths and foley sounds on 'Made in Chillz Ville' there's a sense that their music was just too future for its time. Assembled from heaving industrial samples and graced by back-and-forth tongue twisting flows, 'Thugs and Clips' is as eerie and hard-hitting as anything 2Pac's "The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory" full-length. Fuzzed-out and unsettling, 'Calistylics' welds an ambient synth loop and bone-rattling percussion to Tricky-esque percussion, while the flickering closer 'Unicycle' is a cross between Dr. Dre's icy G-gunk pressure and Three 6 Mafia's pitch black lo-fi funk. In many ways, 2022 is the perfect time to rediscover this music: an urgent, creative fusion of spine-tingling pre-grime electronic minimalism and mind bending wordplay that still sounds completely idiosyncratic and utterly alien. Tracks: 1 All Over Da Globe 2 Thugs and Clips 3 C.V. Vault 4 Made in Chillz Ville 5 Bring It On 6 Calistylics 7 No Feelins 8 Let's Get It On 9 Today Was A Fucked Up Day 10 Untitled (Freestyle) 11 Unicycle

It's hard to believe it's taken this long for a proper retrospective of legendary Los Angeles collective CVE. "We Represent Billions" is a crucial portrait of one of the West Coast's most low-key influential crews - a hydra-like collective of rappers, producers, designers and engineers who were key members of the Good Life Cafe's open mic scene, going on to inspire artists like Jurassic 5, Kendrick Lamar amongst many other. Initially called Chillin Villain Posse before morphing into Chillin Villain Empire in the late 1980s, they eventually centered around the core trio of Riddlore, NgaFsh and Tray-Loc. The crew were years ahead of their time, self-producing music without samples and pioneering a stream of consciousness lyrics that still sound fresh and innovative. CVE were self-sufficient and motivated from the beginning, named "Chillin Villains" because that's how they were perceived by white America. This social motivation was channeled into their groundbreaking performances at Good Life Cafe, the South Central session that evolved into Project Blowed and later on came to influence LA club night 'Low End Theory'. It was chronicled by Ava Duvernay, herself an MC in short-lived duo Figures of Speech, in her "This is the Life" documentary, where she interviewed CVE alongside Jurassic 5, Freestyle Fellowship, Abstract Rude and Busdriver. On "We Represent Billions", we're treated to a snapshot of the CVE sound from 1993-2003, their most prolific era. The retrospective collects music from the handful of albums the crew released on their own Afterlife Recordz label (mostly as limited edition CD-R's) plus many previously unreleased tracks and highlights their untethered eccentric creativity and sheer breadth of influence. Whether twisting twitchy West Coast electro on 'All Over Da Globe' or free associating over horror synths and foley sounds on 'Made in Chillz Ville' there's a sense that their music was just too future for its time. Assembled from heaving industrial samples and graced by back-and-forth tongue twisting flows, 'Thugs and Clips' is as eerie and hard-hitting as anything 2Pac's "The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory" full-length. Fuzzed-out and unsettling, 'Calistylics' welds an ambient synth loop and bone-rattling percussion to Tricky-esque percussion, while the flickering closer 'Unicycle' is a cross between Dr. Dre's icy G-gunk pressure and Three 6 Mafia's pitch black lo-fi funk. In many ways, 2022 is the perfect time to rediscover this music: an urgent, creative fusion of spine-tingling pre-grime electronic minimalism and mind bending wordplay that still sounds completely idiosyncratic and utterly alien. Tracks: 1 All Over Da Globe 2 Thugs and Clips 3 C.V. Vault 4 Made in Chillz Ville 5 Bring It On 6 Calistylics 7 No Feelins 8 Let's Get It On 9 Today Was A Fucked Up Day 10 Untitled (Freestyle) 11 Unicycle

Following releases from label founder Palms Trax, a reissue of eighties Chicago House innovator Rog’e, and a pair of cassette mixtapes from Berlin-based selectors Enchanted Rhythm and Budino, CWPT looks to the North-East of England for its next release, live and direct from REES.

Hot on the heels of a twelve-inch on Bordello A Parigi and underscoring a slowly simmering reputation as one of the brightest stars of his community, REES’s debut on CWPT is a classy and globally informed perspective on house, disco and acid styles.

Undistilled rhythm is at the heart of Rees’s vision of club culture; on title track, Devils Club, it’s effect makes itself known immediately, driving a channel of lively percussion towards a series of tasteful breakdowns that are both propulsive and alluring. On ‘Magic’, a confidently raw, loose drum loop accelerates into a glossy, psychedelic speed-chase that’s pure Miami Vice reimagined in Middlesbrough.

On the flip, two versions of ‘The Spirit’ tastefully expand beyond REES’s musical borders and into warm, cinematic territory, blending tropically tinted instrumentation with (and then without) an entrancing vocal sample.

Winston 'Niney' Holmes AKA The Observer, must be one of Reggaes finest Roots Rebel producers. Capable of making some of the heaviest, innovative music, not only in sound but also in the Cultural/Political sense.
Born George Boswell, Montego Bay, Jamaica 1951, and name checked 'Niney' due to losing a thumb in a workshop accident. He began his career in music by organising bands to play at school dances. But his first steps learning the musical ropes came working under the tutelage of producer Bunny Lee around 1967, organising sessions for Bunny's stable of artists. He moved on to work alongside Lee Perry at Joe Gibb's 'Amalgamated' label setup, where on Lee Perry's leaving in 1969 to start his own 'Upsetter' label, Niney became chief engineer.
Inspired by Perry's success it wasn't long before his own 'Destroyer' label was under way. It was 1970, and his first production entitled 'Mr Brown' by DJ's Dennis Alcapone and Lizzy, proved to be a minor hit, but his own 'Blood and Fire' track released in December of that year would become a major hit. After initial problems with it's likeness to Bob Marley's track ' Duppy Conqueror' being ironed out, it's reissue on his now named 'Observer' label, saw it go on to become, Jamaican Record of the Year 1971. Far out selling Bob Marley's track to the tune of 30,000 copies in Jamaica alone. A roots classic...
Niney's reputation for building great roots tracks, was furthered with more success working with singer Max Romeo. Issuing cuts such as 'Beard Man Feast', the great 'Reggae Matic' and 'Aily Ailaloo' and renewing his friendship with Lee Perry on the track 'Rasta Band Wagon', who's production credit read Perry, Niney, Maxie. In 1973, Niney began working with Dennis Brown, who was already an established star from an early age, they found a chemistry that went on to produce some of Dennis' finest work. The 1973 hit 'Westbound Train' was followed in 1974 by 'Cassandra', 'I am the Conqueror' and the timeless 'No More Shall I rOam'. Another important connection around this time was the great King Tubby who Niney would take his tapes along to and even record some of his tracks at Tubby's house, 18 Drummlie Avenue, Kingston, which doubles as his Studio of Dub.
It's these tracks that we are concentrating on here. Tubby would strip the tracks back to the bone and rebuild then sometimes leaving off the hook line. Whether that be the horn line or keyboard line and adding effects over the top that could disguise the cut even more. Even Niney stating that when Tubby had finished with a cut, he found it hard to recognise the track himself. Its these tracks as dub plate specials that Tubby would play on his Hometown HI-FI Sound System and it's these such tracks that we have compiled for this release. Dub Plated that have not seen the light of day since tragically the great Osborne Ruddock AKA King Tubby was gunned won and murdered on the 06th December 1989. For a few dollars and a gold chain, reggae music has lost one of it's most creative, inventive forces.

Niney also cut tracks with many other Reggae giants such as Gregory Issacs, Michael Rose, Junior Delgado, Horace Andy and Delroy Wilson to name but a few. As in house producer at the legendry Channel Studios and supervising sessions at Dynamic and Randy's Studio 17, his magic touched many. DJ, Arranger, Producer, his Roots Rebel music still stands the test of time.
Hope you enjoy the set.....

Recorded at Channel One Recording Studio in Kingston Jamaica
featuring Sly & Robbie, Tommy McCook and Ansel Collins
Arranged by: Trevor Hartley
Produced by: Phil Pratt
First released 1979
Extensive Sleeve Notes
Promotion across social media platforms
Advertising in Riddim, Black Echoes and Record Collector Magazine

A spellbinding tribute from one multi-faceted artist to another. New York-based artist Aki Onda (b. 1967) conjured a transduction to the Korean multi-media pioneer Nam June Paik (1932-2006). Aki himself describes the project:

“Nam June’s Spirit Was Speaking to Me occurred purely by chance. In 2010, I was spending four days at Nam June Paik Art Center in South Korea for a series of performances and had plenty of free time to wander. The building was packed with Paik’s artwork and related material. I have always felt a close kinship with him as an artist, and so it was a great opportunity to immerse myself in his works and ephemera.

It was that night I made the first contact, via a hand-held radio in a hotel room in Seoul. It was literally out of the blue. Scanning through the stations, I stumbled upon what sounded like a submerged voice and I began to record it in fascination. I concluded this was Paik’s spirit reaching out to me.

The project continued to grow organically as I kept channeling Paik’s spirit over long distance and receiving cryptic broadcasts/messages. The series of séances, conducted in different cities across the globe, began in Seoul in 2010, and continued in Köln, Germany in 2012, Wrocław, Poland in 2013, and Lewisburg, USA in 2014. The original recordings were captured by the same radio which has a tape recorder, with almost no editing, save for some minimal slicing and mastering.

Paik is known for his association with shamanism, a practice that constantly surfaces in his works all through his career. In an interview, he stated “In Korea, diverse forms of shamanism are strongly remained. Even though I have created my work unconsciously, the most inspiring thing in my work came from Korean female shaman Mudang.” Paik himself was a master shaman and vividly used shaman rituals and symbols for staging his performances and installations.

These recordings also became a way for me to explore the mythic form of radio—a medium which is full of mysteries. The transmissions captured may be “secret broadcasts” on anonymous radio stations. There are in fact hundreds of those stations around the world, although the numbers dwindle as clandestine messages can now be sent via encrypted digital channels. Some of these stations were likely for military use or espionage or relics of the Cold War. But many others continue without apparent explanation. These are just some of the questions that remain unanswered.”

Commissioned in 2017 by documenta 14's radio program “Every Time A Ear di Soun,” these recordings were continually broadcast on eight radios stations around the world that year. Nam June’s Spirit is a beautifully formed homage, I cannot think of any other like it. An intimate, flickering language discovered through the air. The LP comes replete with a booklet of photographs of Paik on the set of Michael Snow’s unreleased film Rameau’s Nephew (1974).

Sean McCann, 2020
Aki Onda, 2017

20-page art booklet including rare photographs of Nam June Paik from the set of Michael Snow’s film Rameau’s Nephew (1974), two essays on radio-wave phenomenon (by Onda and Marcus Gammel), and a remembrance of Paik by Yuji Agematsu

Swedish duo Thunder Tillman come together again in healing harmony to produce a much needed LP for troubled times. Thunder and his life coach Pony bring their spirits in sync for 40 minutes of improvised soundtracks for mental and physical wellbeing.

Recorded on Stockholm’s Wind Island, the pair have carefully selected specimens from their collection of vintage musical paraphernalia to channel these specific vibrations for maximum healing power.

Side one is a gentle wake up call for the soul, with pipes and chimes that gently give way to mind-expanding synths and feedback echoes that sound like sun glistening off a mountain river. Those sounds lead into an electric piano and life affirming synth figure, before disintegrating into santoor strings and chants with a slight Indian flavor. It’s a cosmic combination that invites relaxation and meditation, and the kind of deep breathing exercises that could turn back the clock on a host of bodily ailments. An electric piano comes back to the foreground with a bass and synth combination that drives forward with healing hands, before parting the frequencies for ear-tickling pads and voices. Rounding out the side is a chiming synth and santoor figure that brings the wandering spirit home and to rest.

Side two starts up with Cosmic Osmosis - a motorik drum machine beat and bass line that briefly brings to mind some of their more krautrock inspired modes across their three previous Eps, but soon collapses back into visceral synth twinkles and relaxing washes of analogue tones. It’s a dynamic that drives the whole record, sounds that excite the soul perhaps even the body on an atomic level, before bringing that energy down to a calming, relaxing home. There’s a craftsmanship to their synthesized tones that goes beyond mere artistry, and the interplay between sounds and frequencies is especially inspired, to the point where the music practically sparkles out of the speakers. Side two closes out with harmonic chimes that could put you on a Himalayan mountain side, and succeeds in raising the spirit, mind and body to higher plains of cosmic consciousness.

The Aural Healing Program is accompanied by a 40 minutes Visual Healing Program that will be unveiled in conjunction with the vinyl release. The first visual healing session featuring side B opener Cosmic Osmosis, is already available for all to partake. So just relax, let go and let the frequencies guide you.

Propulsive tabla percussion and meditative drones collide in deep instrumental conversation on Shruti Dances, the debut collaborative album between UK heavyweights Auntie Flo and Sarathy Korwar, forthcoming on the newly relaunched, Make Music imprint.

Across six exchanges of dynamic electronic production and richly layered Indian classical percussion, Shruti Dances discovers two architects of rhythm and movement on an explorative journey through South Asian tonality and diasporic identity.

One an elemental force on drums, the other on the decks, London-based, Indian-raised drummer/composer, Sarathy Korwar and Scottish-Goan producer/DJ, Auntie Flo first connected back in 2019, unaware both were navigating opposite ends of the beat equilibrium. Where Auntie Flo (aka Brian D’Souza) was new to Korwar’s reimagining of jazz, Indian classical music, electronics and spoken word, Korwar was already a big admirer of Auntie Flo’s intl-facing club output, having first discovered D’Souza’s Rainfall On Red Earth off his Soniferous Garden 12” and 2019 SAY award-winning (Scottish Album of The Year), Radio Highlife. Once properly acquainted, Korwar invited Auntie Flo to remix a track off his landmark 2019 album, More Arriving, described by The Guardian as “a stylistic leap from jazz to hip-hop to spoken word…a protest record encompassing the breadth of immigrant experiences”.

The seeds of an unlikely yet powerful musical bond had been sown and when mutual friend, co-founder of Mixcloud, and Make Music label organiser, Nikhil Shah, asked the duo to inaugurate the label’s new live/electronic direction (previously home to Leon Vynehall, U and George Fitzgerald), Korwar and D’Souza hit the studio. Expanding on early conversations around traditional Indian instrumentation, practicing meditation and improvisation, Shruti Dances (a riff on free dance movement, Ecstatic Dance) was born. Meaning 'that which is heard' in Sanskrit, shruti refers to a note in musical terms, but in this case also references the album’s most prominent influence and instrument, the shruti box.

“The shruti box formed the basis of the sound of the project. It’s a drone instrument, similar to a harmonium, and it makes an amazing sound. I’ve spent the last two years studying sound therapy, and immersing myself in ambient and drone through the Ambient Flo project, and am particularly interested in how they can induce meditative states of consciousness. I was really excited to hear what the Shruti box could do with this EP.” Auntie Flo

Across six tracks, (each named after 6 of the 7 main musical notes in the Indian solfege system), Shruti Dances draws on a celestial mix of traditional percussion and processed digital effects. On opening track Dha, Korwar’s sparse tabla rhythms hop across D’Souza’s scattered, arpeggiated synths, where as on Pa, a Balearic shuffle channels Moroccan Gnawa music and Senegalese sabar meets Mark Ernestus’s Ndagga Rhythm Force. Harmonic speed tabla and roaming drones provide a sense of the ethereal and fourth-worldly on Ma, a track that’s resplendent, curious atmosphere would fit snug into the deep listening-focused programming of Auntie Flo’s Ambient Flo online radio station, a curatorial platform and avenue exploring his interest/promotion of mental health, launched over the UK’s first lockdown. Ni sees Korwar pick up the sticks, thrashing toms in a spirited frenzy, whilst downtempo album closer Sa offers some room for reflection, its slow, swirling chords cloud our focus, leaving us with all but the distant sound of birdsong.

"bit by bit" is the first full-length release from Toronto-based singer-songwriter Evan J Cartwright. This self produced album from the go-to drummer/collaborator (The Weather Station, U.S. Girls, Brodie West) presents a highly singular songwriting vision that combines existential lyrics with masterful musicianship. Steeped in jazz melodicism, Cartwright’s trumpet-like phrasing mixed with contemporary composition presents an eclectic art song performed by an artist that could perhaps be best described as a post-modern Chet Baker. Deep poetic observations on love and time paint an affecting picture of an artist reflecting on life’s universal truths. Visual in nature, "bit by bit" places its audience within a world of musical leitmotifs extracted from field recordings of bells and birdsong. Collected during years of touring, these sounds evoke extant spaces beyond that which the music inhabits. The use of this source material in its unaltered form evokes the feeling of a technicolour European film at one moment and then, as the extrapolated melodies are meticulously translated into electronic tone bank sequences, a modernist setting the next. One carillon melody is used as the basis for a wealth of the album’s musical material before its origin is finally revealed by the chiming of bells in the last seconds of the album. The result is a fragment of space between the constructed world of the musical compositions and the candid world of documentation, inviting the listener to ponder whether those two worlds are distinct or whether the songs and music are not simply “field recordings” themselves. Throughout "bit by bit" Cartwright drops staggering revelations hiding in plain prose that often involve the contemplation of time. In I Don’t Know he states “if I only trusted time / then I would wish it all away” and nearing the album’s end he opens impossibly blue with the phrase “the impossible truth of time”, playfully inserting a pregnant pause before the word time. A drummer’s fixation, to be certain, the album’s recurring theme of time is eclipsed only by Cartwright’s contemplation of human relationships. Here he elaborates on some of the album’s subjects: “Many of the lyrics circle, and try to give a name to the illegible space between human beings. “i DON’t know” celebrates the fact that we will never truly understand what love is. Its message is one of assurance. It says that we can never really touch love, and that is ok. “and you’ve got nobuddy” refers to life’s great tragedy: that we are unable to read each others’ experiences, and in reaction to this, we separate ourselves.” The entirety of "bit by bit" is a continuous work. There is seldom a clear demarcation of where one piece ends and another begins and when this does occur, it is done crudely, as if someone is flipping through a series of broadcasted channels. At times words are sliced right out of their lines and replaced by pure tones. This is both a comical interpretation of censorship and a reminder that there are things in life that will forever remain unseen and illegible. In fact, this statement lies at the centre of the LP and although hidden beauty does reveal itself through repeated listenings, "bit by bit’s" eccentric world remains just out of reach — an imaginary second story room viewed from a crowded city street.

Having initially met more than a decade ago at a local community radio station, sometimes doing guest slots on each other’s live, improvised noise shows, Cormac Culkeen and Dave Grenon knew they had a mutual interest in working with sonic textures. They listened to each other’s bands for a handful of years, and in 2017, “made good on a threat” that they’d been making for quite a long time: to start a band. At Cormac’s gentle but clear urging—declaring that they’d gone ahead and booked a space in which to record a video—the two wrote their first song, “Sebaldus,” an ambitious 12-minute trip, which also serves as the fireworks finale to their self-titled debut album. With surges of pathos that smooth out into something more soothing in turn, Cormac goes: “The hunter, you’ve seen him / The archer, his arrows are strong / And hunger, you’ve known her / I know the winter is long.” The track is as much about enduring a Canadian winter as it is about the eponymous 8th century hermit, shot through with sublimated desire. As Cormac put it, Joyful Joyful’s songs are “a little bit outside of time.” But while the lyrics beg close, oblique reading unto themselves, there’s also a distinct sense that they’re only one of many more ways that the duo shapes sound. Cormac, whose voice is like a sea with irregular tides, lights up about an idea in traditional sean-nós Irish music that songs already exist and are out there; it’s up to the singer to become the conduit. This belief in music as something to be channelled, and something more than sound, resonates with the singer’s fundamentalist religious past. To paraphrase: lots of group singing, harmonies, no instrumentation, totally unmediated, no priest, congregational—not choral, not a performance, not about talent, the spirit moves through people. “Of course that informs how I think about singing,” Cormac says. So, when they were exiled from the church because of their queerness, they took the music with them, dislocating it from its dogmatic bounds but not from its transcendent potential. This record might be thought of, then, as a kind of queering of sacred, devotional traditions—or at the very least, a space where all of these things can be held at once. Perhaps perceivable by some as contradictions, these intersecting influences create the conditions for an incredibly singular sound. Dave is steady and exploratory in his handling of this multiplicity, arranging sounds as they’re revealed, corralling them, coaxing them into form. “Because Dave is there,” Cormac says, “I get to sing three times higher, and three times lower, and faster, and backwards, and all of these sounds! That are there. They’re all there.” When asked about early musical memories, Cormac recalled an immediate fascination with harmony: from demanding that the first person they ever heard singing it explain what they were doing, to always (still, to this day) singing in harmony with their twin sister around the house, to being part of a children’s choir that sang soprano in Handel’s Messiah—not realizing until they entered the room with all the other ranges that their learned melody was but one part of the whole. Just as tellingly, Dave reflects on his early attraction to “abstraction and becoming abstract,” describing childhood afternoons messing with microphone and speaker feedback loops, producing long, enduring sounds with almost undetectable variations. In a way unique to the coalescing of these two listeners, notions of harmony are central to their output. Dave samples field recordings, old keyboards and synths, and vocal drones, running the live singing through four or five parallel effects chains, sampling and treating everything again in the moment. “Another way to put it is that Cormac’s voice comes into the board and then comes back out shifted, delayed, and shattered; Cormac and I hear it, live with it, and respond,” Dave says. This work is contingent not only on a deep intuition (neither of them read sheet music) of polyphony and due proportion (something St Thomas Aquinas famously listed as an attribute of beauty) but also on their connection to each other and ability to read subtle cues. Dave says they’d hold each other’s hands while performing if it was more convenient to do so, riffing on something else Cormac mentioned about traditional Irish singing: that someone would always hold the singer’s hand, for fear that without a tether to the ground they might find themselves utterly lost, unsure how to return. Joyful Joyful doesn’t shy away from offering such experiences of departure; they’re willing to unsettle their audiences because they themselves are unsettled. Their shared penchant for spooky, heavy music, and self-described “omnivorous” listening practices equip them with an array of sonic concepts that support this effort; Diamanda Galás, The Rankin Family, Pan Sonic, Pauline Oliveros, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Yma Sumac, and Catholic hymnody were just a few that came up. Observing their audience gives them insight about the effect of each song—something they considered while arranging the album. Its arc is marked by soft, sometimes sudden oscillations between cacophony and euphony, day and night (listen for insects), and from sexual, visceral entanglements to more ephemeral, celestial ones. Front to back, it arouses expansion, unraveling. Of lightning, Vicki Kirby writes: “quite curious initiation rites precede these electrical encounters. An intriguing communication, a sort of stuttering chatter between the ground and the sky, appears to anticipate the actual stroke.” By all accounts, something similar seems to happen at Joyful Joyful shows, between those on the stage and those off it, between what’s earthly and what’s beyond. “A lightning bolt is not a straightforward resolution of the buildup of a charge difference between the earth and a cloud … there is, as it were, some kind of nonlocal communication effected between the two,” writes Karen Barad, extrapolating on Kirby’s thought. Cormac acknowledges that while they and Dave play a role in this mysterious charge that comes about, they’re not solely responsible. However ineffable it may be, it’s undoubtedly a form of communion—and a sensuously shocking one at that

After a parentship hiatus, Richard Zepezauer´s n s y d e imprint is back to push new boundaries and save some souls.

N s y d e proudly presents a next release by Skymark. It's his second full EP on the Berlin based imprint.

His Easy Saturday Night EP includes two excellent deep house jams backed with remixes by Kevin Reynolds and Mike Huckaby. The latter was previously released as a single sided limited edition.Skymark brings a bright and sun tinged house anthem on the Instrumental version of Easy Saturday Night on the A1.

The remix is in our opinion amongst Mike Huckaby's best productions. It touches the classic soulfulness of Larry Heard-style piano chords and blissful vocals combined with clear hints of Basic Channel's eternal electrifying waves. It's a perfect testament to Mike's unparalleled knowledge and wide musical range, Not only those who knew him will feel his presence while listening to this beauty.

On Insomnia, Skymark goes even deeper into deep soul territories. Pure vibes. Reworked by Detroit DJ and producer Kevin Reynolds. Made his frst appearance on nsyde back in 2011 and here he twists the original into N s y d e was founded 2011 by Richard Zepezauer.

N S Y D E will continue to bring back the family by unifying diverse artists from all angles of the electronic music familytree. N S Y D E believes in the political power of art, it brings together people.

N S Y D E does not believe in the power of political marketing of art, it divides people from each other. House Nation still under one Groove.

Early DJ support by : Antal (Rushhour), XDB, Laurent Garnier, Steffi (Ostgut), Electric Indigo, Dan Curtin etc.

On textstar+ Jan Jelinek brings together the material from the CMYK series, four EPs he released between 1999 and 2002 under the pseudonym farben (the German word for both colours and paints), on a vinyl double LP for the first time. The selection of tracks has been remastered from the original tapes, joined by two additional pieces that appeared on compilations during the same period.

A Polaroid. Still life with tangled leads and consumer electronics, late twentieth century. Black and various shades of dirty white are the dominant non-colours. The image’s spatial depth remains diffuse, the links between its elements speculative. A note stuck to the wall (a legend, perhaps, or an all-explaining blueprint in text form?) is impossible to decipher. You can’t see what connects the picture’s signs. You have to hear it.

farben says: Every sound is a text. A bearer of meaning in search of a reader. Hoping the ideas inscribed in its autonomous existence will be understood as intended. While its beauty lies precisely in misunderstanding, in reading the coded message a new way every time. A thousand colours of sound, a thousand different ways to hear, to see, to understand.

On textstar+ Jan Jelinek brings together the material from the CMYK series, four EPs he released between 1999 and 2002 under the pseudonym farben (the German word for both colours and paints), on a vinyl double LP for the first time. The selection of tracks has been remastered from the original tapes, joined by two additional pieces that appeared on compilations during the same period. Another new element is the Polaroid, showing the origins of a world: Jelinek’s home studio in Berlin at the time.

farben says: Move your body! The project has its roots in Jelinek’s love of house as a reductionist vision of soul. Of four to the floor as a proposition that can be accessed anywhere. Of electronic dance music as a realm of possibility that can be continually expanded. farben was written as contemporary house music. As a text about excitement and euphoria. The arrangements were made directly while recording to DAT, on a twelve-channel mixing desk. Several track titles suggest a link to live concerts, coupled with the context of machine music and bedroom recording. Others affirm pop music’s most extravagant stock phrases about various states of love.

Jelinek produced the tracks with the aim of making music for dancefloors. An idea that failed very productively. In the locations to which it was originally addressed, the project barely figured. But people did listen, and they listened all the more closely to this music that opened up new acoustic and associative scope for house. farben is the opposite of genre: a music spawning new terms (clicks & cuts, micro-house) that never manage to fully capture it.

farben says: Signifiers. The four CMYK EPs are designed as a network of references that cannot be missed but that can also never be precisely deciphered. The vectors of sound, word and image point to Isaac Hayes and Ornette Coleman, to Detroit and the first generation of the Red Army Faction, to Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. So multifarious that they are distorted to the point of recognition. Overall we hear sonic docufictions whose appealing vagueness derives precisely from this oscillation between clarity and ambiguity, which is also the source of their poetry: the lyricism of the pure circulation of signs.

The artwork is based on photographs of former Red Army Faction members, broken down into the four colours of the CMYK model. The motifs dissolve into individual dots of a single colour, so close to the faces that their expressions are only hinted at. Taken together, the individual colours compose a new whole out of fragmentary material, defying definition and thus maintaining their vibrancy. The same occurs on the level of sound. The sampler Jelinek used for these tracks had to be fed with floppy disks, imposing a memory limit of 1.44 megabytes per audio quotation from soul or jazz records. As a necessary consequence of this, the individual references, like the dots of colour, are dissolved into details and abstractions. They appear as splinters that recombine in new ways to create new meanings. The joy of collapsing metaphors.

farben says: New departures. Even two decades after its original release, textstar+ does not come across as an epitaph to the modern era. Instead, it appears as a euphoric affirmation of the utopias of the twentieth century, translated into new sound texts via the aesthetic strategies of abstraction, collage, networking and speculation. 1.44 megabytes of history, one thousand signifiers, one album. From “Live ...” to “... Love”.

Arno Raffeiner, 2021

Jon Porras draws a staggering array of atmospheres out of even the simplest instrumentation. Across his work as one-half of psych-drone duo Barn Owl and his solo releases, Porras welds monoliths and ether into propulsive music that is deeply felt. Arroyo, named for the Spanish word for "stream" in a nod to Porras' heritage as a first generation Colombian?Japanese American, drifts gently from one tributary to the next in unhurried contemplation and euphoria. The portentous weight and abrasive textures of Porras' previous work give way to the trickle of richly detailed acoustic instruments slipping in and out of the fold. On Arroyo, Jon Porras evokes a distinct sense of resplendent anticipation and calm with a fathomless flow and softly gorgeous colors. For Porras, Arroyo became a rumination on simplicity and simple truths, a work of complete immersion and continuous motion where separate elements coalesce into an ever-changing whole. Porras spent the year leading up to 2020 living nomadically across Europe where he was able to soak in a deep appreciation for the effortless beauty of overgrown gardens, the basic principles of classical architecture and a more transient sensibility. The album was written and recorded in a time of even more change for Porras: after the birth of his daughter. Like a stream's steady glide across bedrock that waxes and wanes with each gradual turn, the music of Arroyo exhibits a transportive stillness. The compositions take on a light, gaseous buoyancy as discreet drones swell with measured fluctuations and ripples of piano rest atop the surface. Arroyo borrows harmonic concepts from modal jazz to create a unique sense of ease and endlessness. Each of the four pieces on the album centers around a single suspended chord, a chord most commonly associated with devotional music which embodies a space between harmonic tension and resolution. Porras embellishes that liminality with arrangements that feel less like distinguishable layers of instruments and more like one undulating nebula of sound. In the past decade of Porras' solo work, his music has grown increasingly engaged with elaborate synth textures and detailed processing. With Arroyo, Porras consciously takes a step back from those more intricate compositions and focuses on more organic, unadorned textures and places each sound with the same precision. Stark piano and guitar patiently hover over modest currents of Hammond organ and Yamaha DX7 with the sustain of each chord and phrase acting as a natural guide to the album's subtle rhythm. The four pieces that comprise Arroyo each encompass their own idyllic channel, slowly weaving their way in and out of the album's elegant stir. Porras' reflections on simplified elements take shape in gorgeous arrangements that impart clarity amidst a tranquil mist. Arroyo is an album that unearths splendor in a unified feeling of space, serenity in perpetual renewal

Consequence and more. Emma Ruth Rundle's second instalment in her Electric Guitar series, EG2: Dowsing Voice, is almost like the soundtrack to a film that hasn't been made. The mostly instrumental record follows her on a trip to the Welsh coast and down a magical well into the waters of nature, myth and the Old Golds - by way of her improvised music. The 40 plus minute album was sewn together from recordings channeled during her month-long solo journey in the early days of 2020 and completed before 2021's critically lauded album Engine of Hell was even written. Unlike Electric Guitar One, EG2: Dowsing Voice features vocal improvisation, unconventional singing and extended vocal techniques free from lyrics - like the throat singing on "In the Cave_" which is meant to be the voices of crones gathering in a rhythmic and physical ritual. Rundle was led to these voices by unseen forces along with the immense impact of the Welsh water: ocean, rivers springs and wells that gave the album its extended title Dowsing Voice. While there is some focus on vocal and story here, her textural and even bombastic guitar improvisations are featured throughout the album. For Rundle, the Electric Guitar series will always be about inspired, unplanned moments like this at its core.

Eli 'Paperboy' Reed pays homage to country legend Merle Haggard by
putting a soulful spin on some classic tunes

Recorded in Brooklyn with longtime collaborator Vince Chiarito (Black Pumas, Charles Bradley), Reed taps into all the heartache of Haggard's iconic catalog and channels it into explosive, high-octane performances that blur the lines of genre, geography, and race to reveal the common, distinctly American threads tying hem all together.

Stunning debut release from RAFRAM aka Irdial legend Ramjac Corporation and the Toronto legend (& honorary Glaswegian) Raf Reza.
300 copies only, full printed sleeves plus riso insert.

Orphic Apparition is a new label born out of a transatlantic meeting of minds. Facilitated by a long, hedonistic party in one of present-day London’s ‘meanwhile use’ venues Grow Tottenham, Canadian producer Raf Reza and British acid house luminary Paul Chivers spent a precious day in the studio to record a 3 hour straight to DAT session before Reza's return to Canada. The result of this spontaneous yet intuitive collaboration blurs the lines between Chiver’s long-standing Ramjac Corporation alias and Reza’s genre-spanning approach to dub, breaks and house styles. Part of the early 90s rave scene and an important member of the blueprint-setting Irdial label, Ramjac locks heads with the self-professed ‘lazy music guy from Toronto’ to adapt their studio session into five separate mixdowns.

‘In The Grow’ begins with a bouncy, cut-up sounding Errorsmith-esque rhythm, the recurring fright night melody that distinguishes the record coming in all quick and powerful. The A2 ‘Rotten Mix’ offers a more traditional house approach in its composition, with dub FX and a nice DJ friendly outro. On the final uptempo choice the pair opt for a head-scrambling electro take. Choose your fighter! The ‘Swampy Dub’ on the flip really dismantles everything we’ve heard prior, slo-mo drums allowing a much different DJ experience and altering the freaky synthetic propulsion into an almost modern classical sound. A little like Paul Dresher’s eternal ‘Channels Passing’ (tip). Combined with the other edits this version almost becomes a totally different track. The final ‘Rootless Dub’ gives its clues in the title, removing all the tough drum sounds and allowing for an ambient decompression.

Orphic Apparition will return soon.

Brand new studio album by The William Loveday Intention as part of their “career in a year”! “The cover pic is from a visit I made with my son and friends to the artist Giovanni Segantini's hut in the High Alps sometime around 2016. Segantini (1858-1899), was an illiterate and stateless artist famous for his paintings made in the Engadin. The title track is about living your life through someone else's YouTube channel: a blow by blow account of how their life in the frozen north is more, picturesque, sensitive, fun, enlightened and artistic than yours could ever be. 'Stood Upon a Chair' is about the villain Jessie James, but without the romance part that is usually added to such tales. 'You Gotta Move', a Mississippi Fred McDowell cover, is one of the best recordings we've ever made. Here I’m accompanied by my wife Julie and my friend Dave Tattersall who plays electric slide guitar. A true gem which should make someone, somewhere, rich and famous. (Or at least make Mick Jagger blush with shame.) Topping it all off we hit a couple of old Headcoats numbers with added verses that reveal the hidden depth behind those impeccable pop songs.” - WILLIAM LOVEDAY 2022

In the past few years, Clarice Jensen has forged her own path. Recently, her focus has shifted to film scoring, successfully recording work for three feature films between 2020 and 2021. At the same time, Clarice continues to serve as artistic director of the American Contemporary Music Ensemble, while continually collaborating with an impressive array of musicians, such as Max Richter, Björk and Stars of the Lid, to name a few.

That being said, it was her 2019 tape release on Geographic North, »Drone Studies«, that initially caught the attention of a wider audience, with the work showcasing a compelling assembly of deeply immersive drones, and elegantly orchestrated compositions, in which neoclassical elements collide with electric density.

Three years later, the work has lost none of its innovative character and appeal. It also documents a turning point in Clarice's career, one where her classically trained background started to converged and overlap with her interests in improvisational electronics and drone music. As a result, the aptly titled »Drone Studies« shows Clarice at her most exploratory, introspective, and daring, channeling her areas of interest into a collage of richly textured timbers and cello movements of sublime tension.

Now for the first time, the original album can be experienced through an expanded vinyl reissue, mastered by Rafael Anton Irisarri, and carefully adjusted for vinyl by Ian Hawgood. The new reissue also features an additional track by Clarice called »Platonic Solids 2«, which was originally conceived around the same time as »Drone Studies«, and which has now been made available exclusively for the vinyl edition.

We hope that this new reissue will aid in introducing Clarice's groundbreaking »Drone Studies« to a new crowd of listeners through this expanded edition.

JOYFULTALK returns with its third album for Constellation; another vibrantly divergent stylistic take on the analog materiality and sensibility of electronic composer-producer Jay Crocker, whose previous two records forged trance-inducing polyrhythmic intricacy, each from a distinct angle and sound palette, each enlisting a single instrumental collaborator. Familiar Science rallies contributions from a larger cast of musicians into a looser, cosmic recombinant combo_still shot through with JOYFULTALK's singular mixing desk kinetics, but this time deep-diving into gnarled and twisted, spliced and diced out-jazz. Crocker draws inspiration from 1980s M-Base music and Ornette Coleman's harmolodic funk period, while his own prior history as an improv guitarist also resurfaces for the first time in many years_an element in this polyvalent artist's chemistry set that hasn't appeared prominently in his own music for over a decade. Familiar Science finds Crocker folding time (as lockdown will do), immersed in his present-day kaleidoscope of solitary art and music practices in rural Nova Scotia, while channeling his former life as a bustling jazz collaborator in Calgary, Alberta. Building outwards from roiling resampled acoustic drums, Crocker extracted additional sonic and rhythmic textures, then formed the head of each song using dusted-off archival recordings and his own bass, keys and midi sequencing. Albertan percussionists Eric Hamelin (Ghostkeeper, Chad Vangaalen) and Chris Dadge (Lab Coast, Alvvays) provided improvised drum tracks to be chopped and harvested; Nova Scotia-based Nicola Miller (Ryan Driver, Doug Tielli) laid down resplendent excursions on saxophone and flute; Crocker's own dexterous guitar appears on several cuts. Familiar Science also poignantly features samples from live recordings by the late Calgary saxophonisticonoclast Dan Meichel, catalysing some of the album's heaviest contortions. Crocker weaves all these raw materials into exuberant compositions that blur the line between sizzling corporeal combo and sampledelic futurist jamz, variously conjuring (leftfield) Flying Lotus, (later) Tortoise, BADBADNOTGOOD and Squarepusher's Music Is Rotted One Note. The rubbery hyper-compression of boom-bap opener "Body Stone" initiates the séance, and the album offers a panoply of skittering grooves and soaring melodic pathways thereafter, through quags of heady jazz alternately streaked with dayglo delirium and other more vaporous states of revelry. Crocker's own wordless stacked vocals are the giddy secret sauce on several cuts, and his lead guitar work (in kinship with the lean progressions of Mary Halvorson or Jeff Parker) features on "Take It To The Grave", "Stop Freaking Out!" and the album's title track. More honeyed passages on songs like "Blissed For A Minute" and "Ballad In 9" center around Miller's bouyant alto sax and flute. Familiar Science is a rousing feast of noise-tinged polychrome electronic avant-jazz: richly harmolodic compositions teeming with intersecting textures and turbulences; exploratory, exhilarated and indeed joyful.

Famed free jazz concert registration of an early New Direction for the Art performance. Recorded in 1971. Old-style Gatefold LP, with rare photographs & extensive liner notes by Alan Cummings.

The performance by Takayanagi Masayuki New Direction for the Art at the Gen’yasai festival on August 14, 1971 was an intense, bruising collision between the radical, anti-establishment politics of the period in Japan and the febrile avant-garde music that had begun to emerge a few years before. The ferocious performance that you can hear here was received with outright hostility by the audience, who responded first with catcalls and later with showers of debris that were hurled at the performers. Takayanagi though described the group’s performance to jazz magazine Swing Journal as a success, “an authentic and realistic depiction of the situation”.

In 1962, Takayanagi, bassist Kanai Hideto and painter Kageyama Isamu went on to form an AACM-style musicians’ collective called the New Century Music Research Institute. Every Friday, members gathered at Gin-Paris, a chanson bar in the fashionable Ginza district of Tokyo, to push the outer limits of jazz creativity.

But the pivotal moment for his music was the creation a new trio version of his New Directions group in August 1969, with the free bassist Yoshizawa Motoharu and a young drummer Toyozumi (Sabu) Yoshisaburō. Experiments eventually led to the creation of two basic frameworks for improvisation that Takayagi referred to as Mass Projection and Gradually Projection.

“La Grima” (tears), the piece that was played at the Gen’yasai festival, is a mass projection and listening to it, you can get a clear sense of what Takayanagi was aiming at. Mass projection involves a dense, speedy and chaotic colouring in of space that destroys the listener’s perception of time, and thus of musical development.

The ferocity of the performance of “La Grima” at the Gen’yasai Festival in Sanrizuka on August 14, 1971 was consciously grounded by Takayanagi in a particular historical moment, ripe with conflict and violence. A month after the festival, on September 16, three policemen would die during struggles at the site. This was the context that the three-day Gen’yasai Festival existed within. The line-up reflected the radical politics of the movement, with leading free jazz musicians like Takayanagi, Abe Kaoru, and Takagi Mototeru appearing alongside radical ur-punkers Zuno Keisatsu, heavy electric blues bands like Blues Creation, and Haino Keiji’s scream-jazz unit Lost Aaraaff.

New Direction for the Arts trio topped the bill on the opening day, playing an aggressive, uncompromising “mass projection” set of polyphonic improvisation. Alongside drummer Hiroshi Yamazaki and saxophonist Kenji Mori, Takayanagi soloed hard and continuously for forty minutes. This was performance as precisely calibrated metaphor: three musicians responding to the demands of the moment with instinctive force and fury, untethered by rules, leaderless yet not rudderless (the direction part of the group’s name was no accident). The piece was entitled La Grima – tears - and the fusion between the palpable anger of the performance and hopeless sadness of its title were also perfectly apt for the situation. This was a fight that the state was always going to win. Yet, by all accounts, the band’s set went down like a fart at a funeral. The band were showered with catcalls and debris throughout, and by chants of “go home” when the music finally came to an end.

However, looking back at the event in the year-end issue of Japan’s leading jazz magazine, Swing Journal, Takayanagi was surprisingly upbeat: New Directions brought a solid political consciousness to our performance and succeeded in an authentic and realistic depiction of the situation. But journalism revealed its superficiality in its inability to penetrate the core of the music. I don’t know much about anyone else, but we at least left behind a competent record.

It’s a fascinating statement in many ways. Perhaps on one-hand it can be read as stubborn, solipsistic and self-justifying, yet in conjunction with his statement in 1971 there are points that guide us towards an understanding of just what Takayanagi intended with his performance at the festival. As Kitazato Yoshiyuki has argued, it becomes an almost religious act, directed at the earth deities of the land. A union of anger, sorrow and malevolence that can be placed nowhere effective, all it can do is find expression and channeling. The forcible land seizures at Narita, the eviction of farmers from land that had been in families for generations, the destruction of communities: none of this can be prevented, not least by an artistic action. All that can be done is an attempt to mark the land itself, to soak it with the combined force of emotions and the volume of the performances, to bury something there that cannot be drowned out, even by the coming roar of jet engines.

New York-based duo Bottler, Pat Butler and Phil Shore, are the vanguard of their own distinctly eclectic sound. Raw, emotive, bold and highly creative, the duo has successfully carved out their own path with a series of EPs that represent the broad scope of their production prowess. Over the last five years Bottler have been working on their debut album, ‘Journey Work’, a milestone achievement that marks a pivotal moment in their music career. The LP is a distillation of the duo’s multifaceted upbringing, blending a variety of styles together bound together by an overarching attitude and approach that embraces creative freedom and self-acceptance.



Pat and Phil are childhood friends whose bond is akin to that of blood relatives. Their parents are best friends and they grew up side by side, developing their deep love for music together; sharing discoveries and inspirations, learning to play and perform, and nurturing their creativity together. Now formally ordained as Bottler, they channel their eclectic tastes into a sound that encapsulates the love and trust that forms the foundation of the friendship. The duo blends a myriad of styles to create songs that emanate warmth, joy, sorrow, pain and the full spectrum of human emotion.



The album title, like their music, is open to interpretation. The duo reveals themes related to chronicling life’s many ups and downs, the deep preparation that must be taken ahead of a spiritual ceremony or psychedelic experience, and, simply, the journey taken during the conception and creation of an album. A quote from Walt Whitman also partly inspired the title; “every leaf of grass is no less than the journey work of the stars”. However, the intention behind the title is to allow for ambiguity, giving the listener an opportunity to write their own narrative.



Across 11 cuts Bottler illustrate their distinct take on electronic music, weaving in elements of indie, pop, rock, house and techno with confidence and panache. ‘Journey Work’ starts at ‘Home’, a song that is fizzing with positive energy, Pat’s vocals welcoming the listener to the start of this meandering audio adventure.

‘Chrysalis’ opens with delicate piano keys that guide us into a bombastic bassline and energising drum beats. As it progresses, scintillating layers of synth and strings are added, creating a highly affecting, uplifting atmosphere.



‘Melatonin’ follows up next, merging heartfelt vocal delivery with a sombre instrumental, and a stirring guitar riff. A glorious demonstration of Bottler’s songwriting capabilities, which are also evident on ‘Vinyl’, an uptempo dance number with an unbelievably catchy chorus. Here we see the duo channel their experience of playing in multi-member bands, as the breaks and arrangement feel perfectly suited to a festival-sized crowd.



On ‘Tacoma’, Pat and Phil channel their appreciation of house and techno into a haunting cut that utilises reverse strings and extended vocal refrains to chilling effect. A heady club track for the twilight hours. ‘Meds’ incorporates muted singing, mystical pad work and a mesmerising riff to produce a captivating slice of uncomplicated dance music.



This is followed by ‘Hot Water’, which feels like a trip to a Californian beach, circa 1965. The vocals drift over a bouncing bassline with a complementary guitar riff. ‘Mako’ features Samurai Velvet singing about fireflies and afterlife in a wonderfully heartrending manner, Bottler’s instrumental keeping things simple, yet highly effective.



We head back underground with ‘Weed’, a dense, gloomy cut with inspired use of chopped up vocal clips, stuttered throughout, alongside a mean bassline. ‘You’re Old’ is the soundtrack to an explosion of festival euphoria, dancing shoulder to shoulder with your best friends, forgetting all your troubles and living in the moment. An anthemic song that transposes Bottler’s idiosyncratic style onto the pop blueprint. Finally, ‘Cicada Rhythm’ closes the LP with a pensive, yet joyful feeling. A chunky bassline is juxtaposed with Pat’s angelic vocals cascading over the top. A hint of tribalism comes through, as we approach the end of the Journey Work…



Five years in the making, fuelled by the desire to express their deep love for music of all varieties, Journey Work is symbolic of the long road it takes to accept oneself and be comfortable expressing one’s truth. Diverse, dynamic and daring with a rawness and honesty that is rare to find, the album marks a triumphant debut for Bottler and one that crystalises their unique identity.

Calexico's Joey Burns and John Convertino return in 2022 with their luminous 10th studio album, El Mirador; a hopeful, kaleidoscopic beacon of rock, bluesy ruminations and Latin American sounds, to be released on April 8.

Convening at longtime bandmate Sergio Mendoza's home studio in Tucson, Arizona, the ensemble recorded throughout the summer of 2021, crafting one of their most riveting and whimsical productions to date. Convertino, who now resides in El Paso, and Burns, who relocated to Boise in 2020, channeled cherished memories of Southwestern landscapes and joyful barrio melting pots into an evocative love letter to the desert borderlands that nourished them for over 20 years.

180 gram clear vinyl! Album features new cover art, and full colour Insert with extensive Sleeve Notes .

Features bonus track ‘San Salvador (Dub Plate Style)’.

Recorded at Channel One Recording Studio, Kingston, Jamaica .

Mixed at Harry J Recording Studio, Kingston, Jamaica
Probably one of the best vocal roots reggae albums!

"Way back in the 1990s, Mark Hand, Neil Iceton & Jez Nicholl channelled their love of sci-fi-fired Motor City techno into a string of inspired releases under the alias Cubic Space Collective.

After reuniting for a memorable machine jam at Freerotation festival in 2016, Hand & Iceton headed back into the studio for a one-off session and recorded 'Holiday in Beta Centauri', a musical love letter to Mad Mike and the rest of Detroit's most militant futurist techno crew.

Sending us surging skywards via 'Binary System', where lilting lead lines, fizzing electronics and enveloping chords dance atop a snappy, cymbal-heavy drum machine rhythm, before 'Arps in Hyperspace' sees them step things up a notch via layered waves of synths, sparkling melodies and a driving, hyper-speed groove.

The North-East-based twosome then attempt to warm us to the core in the shape of 'Rigil': restless organ stabs, undulating Michigan bass, alien electronics, psychedelic acid lines and Galaxy 2 Galaxy style chords catching the ear. Bringing us gently back down to earth, they complete their deep space mission with 'Beyond The Nebula (Holiday in Beta Centauri)', a bustling electro number full of stabbing analogue bass, star-burst electronics, meditative ambient chords that shimmer full of night-sky melodies.

A fine return to action for this Teesside UR-loving techno twosome... 3,167 miles away in Detroit, their achievement will be noted."

Anthony Johnson's 'Gunshot' is one of the all dancehall-era defining records. The driving original rhythm, expertly constructed by ace deejay-turned-producer Jah Thomas with the Roots Radics at Channel One, formed a suitable platform for the strident wails of Anthony Johnson, a rising ghetto star that became one of the hottest vocalists on the evolving dancehall scene of western Kingston.

Reissued for the first time after its original release on the Midnight Rock label in 1982, with remastered audio and extensive liner notes by David Katz.

Deliciously seasoned with a more than a little kick! Following up his 2020 debut, TYPE returns to SweetBox with two fiery jungle cuts built on his Akai MPC X.

Known as the MPC Jedi, TYPE is the tech wiz behind the Tubedigga YouTube channel, where he serves up music production and sound design tutorials from his hoard of MPCs and other vintage and modern tech. As a hardware devotee, he performs live on MPC rather than DJing, and it was during one of these live sets, for the launch of his previous SweetBox EP in 2020, that Dexta and the Diffrent crew first heard ‘Cherry Bomb’ and ‘Eclipse’ and immediately snapped them up.

‘Cherry Bomb’ is a quintessential junglist workout, pushing a combination of four sampled and homemade breaks to their limits over an otherworldly sound bed. With kicks that land like a mortar strike and the explosive militancy of a supercharged drill sergeant, this one’s ideal for peak-time switch-ups and ready to send any dancefloor into a frenzy.

‘Eclipse’ shuffles and steps with the South London producer’s signature precision, though the percussion takes something of a backseat this time. Front and centre instead are an array of monstrous technoid rasps, elasticated subs and an LFO-esque, earworm bleep repurposed from TYPE’s days as a video game sound designer. This is heavyweight business screaming out for a dark room and a big rig.