Search:child of the waves

Two years after releasing the acclaimed Crash Recoil, Anthony Child aka Surgeon returns to Tresor with new LP, Shell~Wave. Retaining the minimal equipment list and studio-version-of-live-show-sets approach of the previous album in order to focus on the work itself, Shell~Wave is a deeply personal document of both where Surgeon is and has been, converging three decades of experience with a continued curiosity in the untested.
“To make this project, I had to dig really deep in terms of what my relationship was to techno; I’ve been involved with it for a really long time and there’s a lot about it I feel dislocated from, so I had to really think hard about what techno is to me. I often get asked “what is techno to you?” but I can’t answer that with words; this album is the answer.” From the complex, twisting track Infinite Eye to the caustic Soul Fire, the eight tracks that make up the body of the album are single-take explorations of the vast, hard yet minimal techno Child is synonymous with.
Neatly dividing the record in two, the emotional centre of the record comes in the form of Dying, a vibrating, beatless piece that with a mantra-like vocal loop steeped in reverberating effects. Further echoes of dub production appear throughout the record as tracks like Divine Shadow, and Empty Cloud have an almost ever-present mist of reverberation, driven by the appearance of a new delay unit in the equipment list; while much of the philosophy of Crash Recoil’s creation is present, the process and the instruments have changed as Child again switches up his approach to studio work.
This insistence on trying novel techniques doesn’t preclude returning to old ones, as this use of modern digital machines with live, hands-on takes that are as inspired by 60s producer Joe Meek and 70s reggae as they are by this year’s synthesiser expos.
“For me, it’s an interesting experience returning to old techniques again after 30 years. I’m always exploring and finding myself back at the beginning. Connecting the present with the past.”
This philosophy of ‘time travel’ is inherent to the music itself as the synchronised loops repeat while the delay and effects branch out, forming unique eddies; distinct quantum moments within the circular whole; the future leaking through the spaces between the sounds. All of the concepts on the album are perfectly communicated through the painting by Taiwanese artist Jazz Szu-Ying Chen which suggests the movement of water, sound waves, and the chitinous shells of sea creatures.

In Todmorden, the oddly-named market border town in West Yorkshire with a habit for embracing the weird and wonderful, a burst of sunshine is a precious thing. Through the thick of Winter, through every season in fact, the town’s folk are used to the wind and rain, fog and mist. As much a part of the town as the trademark deep valley it sits in, here the lay of the land invites the weather in, just as it does the many musicians, artists, and unique characters that have come to call the place home over the centuries.
Bridget Hayden is one such soul who found a home among these hills. The experimental musician, who invites the ghosts in for the classic folk songs that make up her stunning new album, knows only too well about such weather, how rare and treasured the breaks from it are. Her favourite thing to do in the valley, she says, is “to make the most of every tiny minute of sunshine.”
Such aspirations nearly derailed the recording of Cold Blows the Rain, her new eight-song collection released via the Todmorden- based label Basin Rock. Having hired the town’s Oddfellow’s Hall to record these new songs in the late summer of 2022, Hayden says the weather was so good she ended up basking in every second of it, only moving inside to begin recording when the sun was setting, working deep into the night to make up the time.
There’s a good chance, however, that it had to be this way. The songs that make up Cold Blows the Rain are not made for the sunlight. They come, instead, wrapped in mist and coated with drizzle, those elements shaping the album as much as the voice and the instruments held within, as real but ambiguous as the ghosts that linger in the shadows. The sound of the dark valley floor.
Mostly centred around meditative and experimental improvisation, Bridget’s work to-date has seen her spend more than two decades recording and performing on the underground music scene. She’s also toured internationally both as a solo artist and as part of bands such as Schisms and The Telescopes, while working on various side-projects with the likes of Folklore Tapes.
For all of this sonic exploration, so much of her work has been formed around elements of traditional folk aesthetics and, over time, she began to piece together a collection of reinterpreted traditional songs that she absorbed as a child from her mother: through The Dubliners and Muddy Waters, to Bessie Smith and The Leadbelly Songbook. Harvesting her love for Nina Simone, Karen Dalton, Margaret Barry, and more, Bridget takes these traditional songs and transforms them into something uniquely evocative
"It goes back to the womb,” Bridget says of that connection. “I would not call it a memory as it is so deep within my blood and bones. My mum was the source, she sang all the time, as part of life. So it was a very lulling and natural introduction. It seemed common to hear her singing – unbeknownst to her – in time with a raindrop dripping at the window,” Bridget continues. “I’ve always wanted to do a folk record as I love these songs so much. It comes much more naturally to me to sing other people’s words, especially when they’re as beautiful as these old verses.”
Underpinned by waves of analogue reverb, and led by Bridget’s stirring and weather-beaten voice, the songs on Cold Blows the Rain drift and crawl like low heavy clouds on flat-top hills, shaped by the land. The backdrop is equally as arresting, all subtle gloom cast in shadow, a gentle but pronounced swirling of textures, crafted from harmonium and violin courtesy of The Apparitions (Sam Mcloughlin and Dan Bridgewood-Hill).
“The weather speaks the most eloquently about human loss,” Bridget says, articulating such sentiments. “It’s good to feel enveloped by something so much vaster than ourselves. The rain and the tears all become one.”

Some things take a long time. And some things are meant to last. But how you know that, or learn how to find out, that’s a more intangible thing. That’s A Shaw Deal – intangible. A communal meeting place for two old friends and their different musics. A Shaw Deal is the first album by Geologist and DS. They go back a long ways – back before Highlife, before Shaw joined White Magic – back to the early childhood of Animal Collective. Basically, Doug Shaw touched down in NYC around 2003, and he and Brian Weitz have been friends ever since.

“DS” first released his own music under the moniker “Highlife” on the album “Best Bless” EP, in 2010. Listeners were lifted by the sound – a vital new transmission imbued by the popular African guitar music, British folk-pop, desert blues and the ritual spirit energy that Doug had been evoking in White Magic with Mira Billotte. And really, if you knew Doug, this incredible alchemy was just one of the amazing ways he could come through on the guitar.

A couple years back, Doug was posting bits of his playing on Instagram, and Brian found them to be a much-needed escape from reality – he’d just let them loop for stretches of time, get lost in there, and emerge with recharged energies. They were such perfect mini-encapsulations of Doug’s fantastic spirit. Brian was inspired. Eventually, he ran them through his modular system, editing and tweaking and looping as he went, creating new shapes and juxtapositions, instinctively rewiring Doug’s original sounds to extend the feeling of peace they’d given him. Once it was all together, it would make a cool birthday present to regift to Doug! And once the gift was given, it was sounding like an album too…

From start to finish, A Shaw Deal taps into DS’s guitar playing and the vibe of his expression, drawing out meditative waves in new forms while exploring the worlds within them. Geologist and DS collaborate in a manner that’s brought comfort and release to them both. A Shaw Deal leaves no doubt, as it radiates further into the world and beyond – it will bring a new range of views and feels to everyone who listens in.

First Word Records areproud to present a new double-AA sided collaboration from K S R and Konny Kon (Children of Zeus) - 'Part of the Plan / Faded from the Jump', available on 7" vinyl and digital.

Two of Manchester's finest r&b ambassadors, the duo team up for two tracks displaying very different styles of soul music.

'Part of the Plan' has a timeless classic feel, nodding back to the likes of Stax and Atlantic, akin to the contemporary sound of Daptone artists like Jalen Ngonda or Thee Sacred Souls. Waves crash on the dock of the bay, with [ K S R ]'s soulful tones and Konny's laidback production (accompanied by Son of Zeus, Tyler Daley on the backing vox).

'Faded from the Jump' is another three and a half minutes of bliss, taking on a sound that's more signature to the duo's previous work, individually and collectively, sitting somewhere between future r&b, neo-soul and classic Manny street soul. [ K S R ] again takes the lead on this smoothed-out cut, with Konny behind the boards on production.

[ K S R ] hails from Moss Side and has been steadily building a strong rep for himself over the past few years with a slew of releases, including an EP and several singles via First Word. He was named "R&B act to watch" by Complex, and hand-picked by Mahalia to perform an event she curated personally at London's Jazz Cafe. He's toured with artists including Pip Millet, Etta Bond, Mica Miller & The Mouse Outfit, and also collaborated with various d&b artists, such as Zero T, Lenzman, Searchlight and Makoto. Music aside, [ K S R ] has also been creative ambassador for New Balance, Foot Locker, Nike, Size? and Manchester United.

Konny Kon is best known for being one half of hip hop soul duo, Children of Zeus. With performances for Colors and Soulection, and support from peers Jazzy Jeff, Jazzie B, Loose Ends & countless others, Children of Zeus have released two highly-acclaimed albums and two EPs on Worldwide Award winning-label, First Word. Additionally to writing, performing and producing, Konny is a formidable DJ, hosting a popular monthly show on NTS Radio, and performing at numerous events; most recently supporting Mercury Award-winner's Ezra Collective at every date on their European tour, culminating in a show with Children of Zeus at Wembley Arena, London.

Both artists have had wide support across the board from numerous tastemakers, including 1Xtra, BBC Radio 1, BBC 6 Music, Rinse, Represent, Unity, Mixmag, Notion, Hypebeast and tons more. The duo have previously collaborated on 'All on You' (from the CoZ album 'Travel Light') and single 'CGWY' (from [ K S R ]'s EP 'Peace + Harmony').

This single showcases the vocals of [ K S R ] and the production of Konny Kon to a degree that exudes pure quality and class, exemplifying the power of modern British soul music.

'Part of the Plan / Faded from the Jump' is released on 7" vinyl and digital, 22nd November 2024.

Jonathan Bockelmann is a classical guitarist and composer based in Munich who first made waves in 2023 with his debut album ‘Childish Mind’. His entry into composing were arrangements he had made of pieces by Japanese composer Ryuichi Sakamoto. Some of these have been released digitally in three editions and are now available on vinyl for the first time. The record comes in high quality packaging with an embossed art print and features both some of Sakamoto’s lesser-known works like the ‘Suite for Krug’ as well as iconic pieces like ‘Bibo No Aozora’.

Ghostly 25 Year Anniversary Edition. Thus far, Zach Saginaw's releases as Shigeto have been fragments, albeit singularly satisfying fragments -- EP-length glimpses into the Detroit producer's creative psyche. After filling two EPs on Ghostly International, Shigeto's lush, sumptuous take on instrumental hip-hop has fully materialized. Full Circle, the artist's first full-length album, completes the journey begun with Shigeto's Semi-Circle EP, synthesizing the drummer/producer's signature themes of family, continuity, and musical boundary-pushing into a vibrant, fully unified artistic statement.The sounds on Full Circle come from four years of obsessive field recording and collaboration. Saginaw brought his Tascam mini-recorder with him everywhere, capturing the "glasses, chains, breathing, children, family meals, monks singing in cathedrals, walks in the south of France, and good friends offering their musical skill" that would all find homes in the record's compositional nooks and crannies. As a result of Saginaw's constant documentation, the songs on Full Circle play like chapters in an ongoing story--as in "Escape from the Incubator", whose initial rhythmic claustrophobia opens up into a boom-clap nocturnal chase, or "French Kiss Power Up", whose romantic digital strut gives way to discord and fragmentation as the waves of synthesizer give way to a shaky, neurotic coda. Full Circle is framed by the "Ann Arbor" diptych, a pair of beat suites named after Saginaw's hometown (one featuring a sample of Detroit MC SelfSays), all double-thick synths and triple-strength kick drums. Saginaw plays the majority of his rhythms by hand, and Full Circle's consistently deep pocket is the record's secret weapon, thumping and breathing like a living being.Having set the stage with Semi-Circle and What We Held On To EPs--twin treatises on Saginaw's Japanese grandmother's escape from a US internment camp--Shigeto is clearly ready to draw the tale to a close and take center stage. "This release represents the end of the beginning--or perhaps that there is no end and no beginning at all," says Saginaw. Regardless, Full Circle is the start of something great.

Shadow Child & DJ Haus return with Rhythm Force Vol. 2 - a wintery breakbeat fuelled mix of electronica, acid and downtempo jungle. With support in the bag on Vol.1 from Tokimonsta, Bradley Zero, dBridge, pinch ++

Joni Mitchell Gets Jazzy, Counterbalances Love and Trust with Freedom and Confusion on Court and Spark


Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP
Plays with Definitive Detail and Clarity: Pressed on MoFi SuperVinyl Strictly Limited to 5,000 Numbered Copies
Box Set Features New Liner Notes
1/4" / 15 IPS / Dolby A analogue master to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe


Court and Spark, the most commercially successful album of Joni Mitchell's trailblazing career, arrived after a year in which she took some time to breathe and kept a low profile. The pause led to more breakthroughs for the singer-songwriter. Marking Mitchell's increasing drift toward jazz (and affinity for Miles Davis and John Coltrane), Court and Spark garnered four Grammy nominations, earned the Best Album of the Year vote in the prestigious Pazz & Jop poll, and ranks #110 on Rolling Stone’s list of the 500 Greatest Albums of All Time.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing on MoFi SuperVinyl, strictly limited to 5,000 numbered copies, and featuring new liner notes, Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc One-Step 180g 45RPM 2LP box set presents the 1974 classic with definitive detail, tonality, and directness. Marking the first time the revered LP has received audiophile-quality treatment, it's one of six iconic 1970s Mitchell records Mobile Fidelity is reissuing on vinyl and SACD sets.

Benefitting from a virtually nonexistent noise floor, dead-quiet surfaces, and superior groove definition, this collectible edition reproduces without compromise the textures, details, and breathtaking craftsmanship that help make Court and Spark into what many fans believe is the Canadian native’s finest hour. Notes bloom and decay as they do amid an acoustic live environment. Soundstages extend far and deep, with black backgrounds and balanced tones adding to the uncanny realism.

The reference-grade presence and openness put in transparent view Mitchell’s incisive words and unique phrasing, as well as the contributions of her prized support musicians — including Tom Scott and the L.A. Express as well as guest turns by the likes of David Crosby, Graham Nash, Jose Feliciano, and Robbie Robertson. Mitchell, experimenting with the melodic parameters of guitar and piano, is rightly found at the center of it all. The jazz-rock rhythms of drummer John Guerin, slippery guitar lines of Larry Carlton, vibrant horns and reeds laid down by Scott — crucial to the songs’ shape-shifting arrangements — can now also be heard with fresh ears.

Visually and physically, the packaging of the Court and Spark UD1S set complements its distinguished status. Housed in a deluxe slipcase, both LPs come in foil-stamped jackets with faithful graphics that illuminate the splendor of the recording. This reissue is for listeners who desire to engage themselves in everything involved with the album, including Mitchell’s “The Mountain Loves the Sea” painting — a picture of waves embracing and receding away from a mountain, a metaphor for the record’s lyrical themes — on the cover art.

Pitching deceptively light compositions against underlying tensions, Court and Spark witnesses the singer-songwriter finding her footing with a group of top-shelf musicians who seemingly understand her visions as well as expanding her lyrical palette and venturing further into territory no artist had dared explore. Mitchell’s accessibly complex structures, beat-propelled rhythms, and spirited interplay with Scott & Co. both give the music a different identity than her prior efforts and point in the directions she soon headed.

Lyrically, Court and Spark matches the wit, integrity, originality, and intellect of anything in Mitchell’s oeuvre — no small feat. Offsetting positives with negatives, and considering circumstances from multiple angles, Mitchell explores issues connected to love and freedom, certainty and confusion, and trust and fear with unfettered boldness and introspective empathy. She teeters between surrender and retreat, and spends a majority of the record sussing out the complications and sacrifices involved with such actions.

Mitchell addresses the transactional nature of desire (the intimate title track, the upbeat “Raised on Robbery,” complete with rock ‘n’ roll pep from Robertson and zesty sax from Scott); anticipation and disappointment of romance (“Car on a Hill,” “”Down to You); fame and celebrity (“A Free Man in Paris,” “People’s Parties”); and sanity (the dark and stormy “Trouble Child,” a satirical cover of Annie Ross’ “Twisted”). Throughout, she sings with an emotionally penetrating beauty and devastating honesty that teaches about ourselves.

Or, as Mitchell relays on “People’s Parties”: “Laughing and crying/You know it’s the same release.”

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

Next up on Feral Child, sees not only a second ever release from New Zealand based VOR-STELLEN but a teaming up with one of label head dom’s favourite ever labels, the mighty Flying Nun. Despite some patchy European distribution the first VS release “Parallelograms”, was a constant player at FC HQ; 4 superb tracks of super laid back, kraut flavoured slow burners, (lead track “Voyager” especially, comes hugely recommended with its accompanying film clip), so when the band OK’d a second release for Feral Child, we were stoked. Vor-stellen is the experimental project of Brendan Moran, which blends fixated guitars and drums with ad-hoc electronic layers producing perforated waves of sustain which echoes off the fourth wall. Brendan has released work previously as part of avoid!avoid (their album “Particle and Wave” was released by Flying Nun in 2016) and The Subliminals, of which Flying Nun re-released -in 2021- a vinyl edition of their highly acclaimed album “United State”. With Vor-stellen he picks up where those other projects have left off as a foray into 'kraut' inspired compositions “which seek to transform pre-determined ideas of music into open-ended sound objects, untethered from any sense of conventional outcomes”. On this, second VS record, he teams up with his Subliminal buddies once again to continue on an exploration, “folding the weird and the eerie into a dark ecology of long-sound via indefatigable environments of modulation and improvisation, creating sonic counterpoints that hinge on a reanimation of musical gestures”. The record features two side long slow builders and are released in a beautiful Brendan Moran designed sleeve.

With THEE CHURCH OV ACID HOUSE's third EP, the miracle is now complete, the trinity has come full circle, the triptych is complete, the church has fully handed over the Holy Spirit to its disciples. For this celebration, apostles such as Glow, Tyson and Elektra, as well as the church leaders of THEE CHURCH OV ACID HOUSE themselves, come together again to celebrate a Dionysian Bachanal.

It starts with Glow's ‘Acid House Planet’, an epic-ambient call to the gods at the foot of the Acid House Olympus.

And the next track on the EP, ‘Coming Home’, a no less epic house tune that calls the children of faith home to the church with the vocoder voice of the gods, shows that they listen to their disciples.

‘Mitzubishi’ by Tyson celebrates the holy sacrament of acid painting in chords that melt on the tongue like a lollipop over a ritual beat.

This is followed by Elektra, which has already provided highlights on the previous EPs. And this time too, her hypnotic acid anthem worms its way deep into the ear canals and brains of the trance-listening worshippers.

Shortly before the end, the church leaders return to deliver an abstract breakbeat hymn with ‘Waves Ov Power’, which, surrounded by numerous sample memories of house history, sings of the pure power of the acid ecstasy techno religion.

Finally, THEE CHURCH OV ACID HOUSE disciples are dismissed from the service with a powerful hymn of distorted bass drums, namely Random Noise Generator's ‘SM 58’ in the T.C.O.A.H. Schranz remix - a track that will give the inspired followers of the CHURCH OV ACID HOUSE enough strength to spread the happy acid message throughout the land.
Amen.

Following a ten-year hiatus, multi-instrumentalists Rafael Anton Irisarri and Benoît Pioulard return with »How to Color a Thousand Mistakes«, their third LP together as Orcas. Building on the electronic minimalism of »Orcas« (2012) and the Twin Peaks-inspired haze of »Yearling« (2014), the duo have expanded their sound and vision into a full-spectrum ensemble.

In the time since their last major collaboration, Irisarri and Pioulard have done plenty on their own, while also traversing significant life changes: relocation from Seattle to New York, separation and divorce, illness, hospitalizations, and the loss of siblings, parents, and friends. Yet from these tribulations, they gleaned inspiration to reconstruct their lives, creating music with new collaborators and partners. Recorded in a variety of studios and cities including Brooklyn, Cambridge, Oxford, Seattle, and upstate New York, the resulting album, under the tutelage of UK producer James Brown (Arctic Monkeys, Kevin Shields, Nine Inch Nails), is a patiently-crafted beast, equally inspired by impressionism, British new wave, and dream pop.

With Irisarri’s guidance and Brown’s encouragement, Pioulard brings his velvety voice to its harmonized peak on songs like »Wrong Way to Fall« and the Durutti Column-indebted »Fare«. Where his most recent solo albums for Morr Music (»Sylva« and »Eidetic«) navigated foggy forests of ambient pop and stacked tape loops, here his characteristic blur shifts into focus with a unique degree of clarity and confidence. »How fare against balance do I / Navigate my errors?«, Pioulard sings in a heartbreaking tenor, echoing the album’s broader themes of introspection, grief, loss, trial and trauma.

Lead single, »Riptide«, is a summary of Pioulard’s life changes and personal upheavals in the past decade, »flitting eastward toward a yen deep in the past« and learning to glide through the tumult of ocean waves, as a metaphor for the punches one takes in pursuit of grace. Its towering, key-changing midsection arrives with the monumental drumming of Slowdive’s Simon Scott, a long-time friend and cohort who appears on most songs in the set. Scott’s quintessentially English, jazzier approach offers a balance of force and restraint as the backdrop for Irisarri’s majestic guitars, analog synth lines, and Martin Heyne’s Fender Rhodes counterpoints.

Second single, »Next Life«, began as a sketch by Scott, and reached its final form in the hands of Pioulard and Irisarri, at a point that each had endured major concurrent losses, finding a commonality in the need to gaze over the horizon while acknowledging the unavoidable bittersweetness of letting go – not only of people, but of routines, places, and expectations. It’s one of Orcas’ most nuanced pieces, with a mid-tempo, sunset glow that unfolds into a sparkling, slide-guitar finale as it disappears in the rear view.

On third-act highlight, »Bruise«, Scott is doubled on the drum kit by MONO’s Dahm Majuri Cipolla, whose Liebezeit-influenced metronomy anchors a nimble bass groove from Andrew Tasselmyer (of Hotel Neon), and some of the album's most syncopated, spaced-out interplay, courtesy of Puerto Rican guitar player Orlando Méndez (a childhood friend of Irisarri’s). Originally a droney, fingerpicked guitar demo, »Bruise« is the most storied composition here, having gone through almost a dozen versions and lyrical edits, with Brown distilling hours of improvised performances into the final arrangement.

Throughout »How to Color a Thousand Mistakes«, Irisarri uses his deep well of production experience to paint the stereo field with meticulously designed textures, exemplified on the slow burn of »Heaven’s Despite« and the heady rush of »Swells«. As a mixing and mastering engineer with Black Knoll, he has built a client list that reads as a who’s-who of modern, forward-thinking composition, including Temporary Residence, All Saints Records, and Ghostly International, among many others.

As with previous collaborations, Irisarri and Pioulard bring disparate styles and specialties to the table, but with an interpersonal dynamic that transcends friendship into brotherhood, their open-minded workflow and mutual respect are evident at every turn. »How to Color a Thousand Mistakes« brims with tight, complex art rock songwriting, masterful production, and sonic versatility, informed by a plethora of genres and tonal hues. The title might promise answers, but the gravitational center of the album is the dawning realization that, as you reckon with the infinite whims of the cosmos, there could be none.

Originally released on tape by SicSic in 2014, Aprilnacht commemorates a decade of music from Brannten Schnüre and marked the spring in a tetralogy of albums about the four seasons when it came out. Back then the Würzburg-based project consisted solely of Christian Schoppik, who later welcomed Katie Rich to take over the vocals. He used to perform as Agnes Beil, but dropped the name when, while making this album realized his music was becoming "much gentler and more fragile". Aprilnacht already captured the particular musical ideas that Schoppik would thoroughly keep exploring, delving deeper and deeper into the use and manipulation of samplers from sources so diverging as to wander between the five continents to post-war German family television and cult cinema. Heir of the ritualistic intensity of Coil, of the intricate sampler assemblies of Ghédalia Tazartès', and of the dusty, dismal old ballads from around the world, Brannten Schnüre manages to make these paths cross in a territory that is as inherent as it is uncanny; sieged by the past and intimate as a hearth. An organic approach to folk, ambient, and sound collage, where ethereal yet thoroughly textured pieces coalesce in enthralling, delicate, and innermost musical rituals.

The album cover paintings reveal the temper: dreary old towns where shadows come to dim the slow passage of crepuscular colors, a soft area of reanimation where wind and light come close and foresee the night of spring. Aprilnacht was inspired by the stories of German philosopher and writer Friedrich Alfred Schmid Noerr, whose work exhaustively examines the conflict between paganism and Christianity, safeguarding myth in a way that Schoppik describes as boldly modern, humorous and unpredictable in its variations of the Germanic folklore motifs. "I wanted to do the same with the music," he states, and the music here could as well be suitable for a night when household deities welcome wandering will-o'-the-wisps, water nymphs, and gyrovagues to discuss Perchta's leadership of The Wild Hunt, but this album is not a folk tale, it's not an elegy to worlds already gone, hidden in years; it's an intersection of routes that open mysteriously before our ears like a congregation of vapors. Aprilnacht is a gathering of voices; "There are too many children, and none of them keeps quiet," reads the last verse of «Requiem für eine Ringelnatter.»

Sensuality drips over the music to celebrate both the voluptuousness and tragic quality of nature; "It's raining on me, urine from your flowers," Schoppik sings in «Urin deiner Blüten» and later on, faced with a snake's erotic features, as if he wanted to be embraced by it: "Your quick, sharp tongue and your warm venom; that's what the pond is missing." Orality is where this profusion of contents thrives. When the voices get closer and condense, the words reveal the saliva employed to pronounce them; we feel the mouth and the tongue, but when breath envelops them in sorrow and softens their edges, they sound distant, diffused in the atmosphere, letting go of the body that held them. These two vocal facets oscillate permanently and interact naturally with the fertile assembly of samplers and instruments that develop throughout the album, which condense and disperse impersonating each other, interweaving to search for a specific syntax. Tangled whisperings of enigmatic phrases, timid voices that stick out to check the scene but hide away quickly, shivering trance chants and monastic ambiances, distant screams and clamors in between chaos and warfare swirl until bursting into subtle songs where even Mother Mary comes forth softly. Soothed by foggy atmospheres and crackling punctuations, these voices shape a vulnerable crowd, an occasion of fragility. Along this swarm of songs thrown into thin air, accordions sound like heavy-breathing lungs; clarinets sigh like curtains shaking; violin solos wander around like bees; Gjallarhorns cries distend like fleeing cattle; glockenspiels evoke remote music boxes and inherited toys; backward emanations emerge like slender waves retreating. On the banks of stretching loops and ember textures is where the songs slowly nest, collecting the words to find their tone.

A poem by Jorge Teillier says, "To talk with the dead you have to choose words that they recognize as easily as their hands recognized the fur of their dogs in the dark. To talk with the dead you have to know how to wait: they are fearful like the first steps of a child. But if we are patient one day they will answer us with a flame that suddenly revives in the fireplace." This may be Brannten Schnüre's main purpose: To find the voice to speak to those of whom we were a vision. Not in mourning, but acknowledging the obscure and volatile nature of spring's regenerative force, searching for the treasure of balance, as evidenced in the lyrics of «Requiem für ein Schwalbennest,» "Its nest was destroyed so many times before it was finished, and despite that, the shallow builds as if it is infatuated." The same idea is here in the words of Schmid Noerr, who made poetry an act of resistance to the horror of Nazism; "Since having seen the ability of a brilliant spirit to die, with a calm mouth that everyone saw, health is true again and we affirm it, even if rivers of blood flow." And as we call for the dusk's kindness, waiting to return home and eat with our kin by the stove, our ears become used to the games of the night. We feel like we're rowing on wetlands, while the "moon musick" keeps us vigilant against the slightest movement of water or sweet moan because eeriness here is imperative for survival. Do not succumb to the insipid howl of death, for nothing may last but mutability. You see, the rock has moved a little during the night; the rest is just wind fleeing from the void.

Born in 1977, in Malang, East Java, Wukir Suryadi began playing music for theatre at the age of 12 with the Idiot The-ater Studio, and later with the Rendra Theater Workshop. In his solo work, and as a member of Senyawa, Error Scream, Bendera Hitam Setengah, Potro Joyo and other groups, Wukir breaks the boundaries of traditional music, death metal and avant-garde performance. On this new release, “Cycle and Prayer,” recorded in 2023, he expands the edges of his unique artistic world further, by digging in to meditative improvisation, art, and community building in his home workshop in the mountains of central Java. These recordings vibrate inwards, toward the microcosmic ecologies of forests and rivers; they distort outwards, resonating with global waves of apocalyptic change that are forcing all living beings to the edges of existence on earth. The result is a meditative poem that moves, as its titles an-nounce, from phenomena to phenomena, praying that humans find a way out from the depths of the depths to the light that illuminates the soul.
An essential mode of creative work for Wukir is the creation of unique instruments, using these sound sources as “bullets of expression.” In addition to the spear-like tube zither Bambu Wukir, he has created the Solet, Enthong, Garu, Luku, Arrows, and Industrial Mutant instruments, which in addition to being used in live performance, have been exhibited in the Instrument Builders Project and the 2017 Jakarta Biennale. In the past few years, Wukir has begun to collaborate with local guitar makers, carpenters, and suppliers of native endemic wood in the mountain region of Salatiga. Using earthen bricks along with local woods (suren, coconut, mindi, and waru lengis) as building materials, he constructed a new studio and workshop space in Tingkir, where this album was made. The trees, water and air of the local environment have exerted a powerful influence in Wukir’s documentations of instrumental sound. On this recording, he uses the simple Cetta guitar, an instrument designed in Bali and made for Indonesian children and local communities of folk and popular musicians, in order to explore the different sonic characteristics of a more “normal” instrument built from local wood.
The themes of the album -- cycle and prayer -- arise from a foreboding series of meta-events that shook Indonesia and the world over the past years, following one after the other: the COVID-19 pandemic, the Ukrainian-Russian war, the Kanjuruhan Stadium tragedy in which football supporters were gassed and killed by police, revelations of govern-ment failures and corruption, the rise of personal vehicles, the increasing disturbance of natural patterns of the rainy season and other ecological cycles. “In these waves of technology and narratives of truth made for certain interests, playing a sound at a certain frequency and repeating can try to bring images and feelings to a certain point of con-sciousness,” Wukir told me. “Sound is a prayer that creates a change, whether gradual or rapid, in the behaviour of living things, to face the demands of the time, as humans struggle to live according to what they believe.” The draw-ings and sketches used for the cover spontaneously emerged alongside the recordings, as an instinctive depiction of “time and sound, nature that is outside of oneself, and nature that is within.”

Seafood Sam is a futuristic artifact. If that description might sound confusing at first, it matches the eclectic dualities found in true originals. With his effortless cool and timeless style, the North Long Beach native defies convention and exact comparison. He's a virtuosic rapper, a stop-you-in-your tracks singer, and a symphonic producer. Welcome to the lavish life of a laid-back transcontinental man of mystery, rolling in old school Cadillacs, eating caviar with a blade in his pocket, and making plays in vintage Pelle Pelle gear. A blaxploitation icon for the Instagram age, blessed with the bars of a `90s legend and 23rd century swagger. Seafood Sam is a true hero of modernity. On his full-length album debut for up-and-coming label drink sum wtr (Kari Faux, Deem Spencer, Aja Monet) debut, Standing on Giant Shoulders, Sam splits the difference between Snoop Dogg and D' Angelo, Curren$y and David Ruffin. The songs reveal a forward-thinking sensibility rooted in ancestral soul. He creates spiritual hymns for the streets that tap into universal ideals and irrepressible groove. In an era plagued by short-term thinking, his ambitions reveal a crate-digging depth of music history and a meticulous ear for detail. The giant shoulders in the album's title refer to James Brown, Bobby Brown, and Miles Davis - the holy trinity who inspired Sam's process. From the Godfather of Soul, Sam took a perfectionist's rigor and focus. The example of Bobby Brown lent an unshakeable confidence and self-belief. While the constant artistic left turns of the trumpeter that birthed Ccool offered an aspirational archetype. The story starts in the glory days of Long Beach hip-hop. As a young child, the G-Funk era soundtracked rides in Sam's father's car. Some of his earliest memories are trying to memorize Snoop's verse on "Nuthin' But a "G" Thang." Beyond gangsta rap, the LBC has historically doubled as a capital of lowrider soul and carwash oldies. At any intersection, you could hear Dogg Food or Brenton Wood, Warren G or Barbara Lynn. This too was absorbed via osmosis. It also just so happened that the art of performance was always in Sam's blood. So at family functions, he and his sister supplied entertainment by singing karaoke renditions of The Isley Brothers. While his Harlem Shake remains a thing of local lore. Long Beach is a culturally diverse mecca of skate parks and gang life, street fashion and tricky dance moves. This is the place that raised Sam on a diet of Wu-Tang and Nelly Furtado, Lil Bow Wow and Allen Iverson. He was the middle ground between his two older brothers: one who gangbanged, the other who graduated with a master's degree from UC-Santa Barbara. But it wasn't until the end of high school that Sam started to take rap seriously. Alongside long-time collaborators like Huey Briss and Reaper Mook, Sam's name began to make waves on the northside of the city, but he was partially distracted by a modeling career that paid the bills and took him all to way to walk in Paris' fashion week. The first turning point arrived with 2018's "Ramsey," a self-produced, slick-talk anthem with over 10,000,000 streams across all platforms. With each subsequent release, Sam showcased his peerless consistency, building buzz both online and in the city streets. Spin hailed his "smooth and unhurried cadences and understated lyricism_ that sounds like nothing else in Long Beach." Clash raved about Sam's "evolution as an artist, cruising through nostalgic production with slick, witty rhymes." The culmination arrives with Standing on Giant Shoulders. It's the evidence of a master, a young sensei in the model of Quincy Jones. All rhymes, singing, production, and arrangements were handled by Sam - with an assist from his close Long Beach kinsman Tom Kendall from the group Soular System. It's hard-edged and lyrical enough for disciples of Larry June and Roc Marciano, but orchestral and melodic enough for fans of Anderson .Paak and H.E.R.

Memories are, to say the least, complex. They can weigh us down like stones or be treasured in their unresolved ambivalence. In Ciro Vitiello’s debut album, they take on a dynamic and elusive nature, both bouncy and tricky, moving away when approached and dipping into the haze of the subconscious. Dreams, in turn, find their shape through memory itself. The Island Of Bouncy Memories is, for Vitiello, a place populated by reveries and hypnagogic impressions, interwoven with the imprints of childhood experiences—a threshold between the comforting embrace of nostalgia and the acceptance of adulthood.

The album's inception traces back to a collection of toy recordings initially amassed by Vitiello as a backdrop for his wide-weave synthetic fabric. Evolving these initial sketches, the Naples-born artist intended the 13 tracks to form a continuous flux of undeciphered impressions. Repeating motifs phase in and out of the cloudy ambience, punctuating the inevitable waves of melancholy with delicate melodic structures.

Crucial to the album's development were contributions from vocalist Zimmy, vocalist/guitarist CRÆBABE and guitarist Attilio Novellino. Their input not only expanded the sonic palette but also cultivated themes and poetic scenarios through intense and sincere exchanges of personal experiences, recurring dreams, and childhood remembrances. CRÆBABE’s lyrics, in particular, provide an adult counterpoint to the album's more childlike elements—a map of murmured relics and epiphanies as she sits in conversation with herself.

The music's emotional depth envelops Vitiello's Island in an ocean of pure sensitivity, its tides drifting through apparitions of talking animals, reminiscent of those in his recurring dreams. At other times, it reflects the tragic echoes of Nisida—an island off the coast of Naples, infamous for hosting a youth detention center.

The Island of Bouncy Memories is a meditative reconnection with the past, a puzzling journey through pain and acceptance. Notably it marks the first-ever co-production between Hundebiss and Haunter Records, uniting two main players in the Italian electronic and experimental scene in an unprecedented collaboration.

Acclaimed guitar duo Loren Connors and Alan Licht celebrate their 30-year collaboration with release of their eighth album - At The Top Of The Stairs. Across the decades, their improvisations turned increasingly abstract and atonal, while still maintaining complex, ethereal arrangements. The harmonious blend of Licht's meticulously crafted feedback and harmonic patterns with Connors' ghostly blue tones remains the core sound of this partnership. At The Top Of The Stairs was recorded live in 2018. Across two side-long pieces, the duo ascends slowly, through layers of atmospheric tension punctuated by thunderous waves of Connors' effects. For fifty years, Connors's adaptation of acoustic Delta blues has transmuted into miniature gray scale compositions and howling riffs. His collaborators include Oren Ambarchi, Keiji Haino, and Kim Gordon. Rock/experimental musician Alan Licht was a member of the bands Love Child, Run On, and Lee Ranaldo & the Dust, and has released a range of acclaimed rock and experimental albums. He is an author with books published by Rizzoli, W.W. Norton, Faber & Faber and Blank Forms.

A blistering advancement of the knife-sharp hooks and urgently efficient post-punk structures that they’ve spent over a decade refining since their formation in 2011, the band’s fourth album – and second on Specialist Subject - emerges from a period of flux for the band’s chief songwriting partnership of Emma Wigham (drums/vocals) and Mark Jasper (guitar/vocals). First came a move north to Yorkshire from their native London. “We had decorated a tiny, rented house in Mytholmroyd” Jasper explains. “We setup a practice room in the top of a mill nearby and tried to write music, which we did amid stress about money, and a fear of having made the wrong decision. We had left our jobs, friends and a nice but absolutely tiny flat in London behind, and moved to a small village in West Yorkshire.” Although they found the location to be beautiful, the transition from city life to rural turned out to be an odd fit – too much so, it turned out. From this relatively short stay in West Yorkshire, however, came a more permanent change as the couple welcomed their first child Ivy into the family. Although, they’re hesitant to put too much of Streams and Waterways influence on the shoulders of their young daughter – she arrived a year and a half into the album’s conception – there’s no denying that its themes of loss, birth, and being part of this eternal, momentary life were brought into sharp focus following their new arrival. “Streams and Waterways is about the struggle of looking at the clock, realising it’s actually going pretty damn fast and knowing that really you have no control over anything” Jasper confirms. Perhaps that explains the way that opener The Valley doesn’t even introduce itself before careering into a full-throttled, three-minute scuzzy rager that would approach the descriptor anthemic had it not been kicked and scuffed along the way; it’s maybe why the wiry, ferocious Choice You Make feels like a charge into a storm despite the uncertainty of what you might find. It’s perhaps why even when Witching Waves allow themselves respite on the pared down Open A Hole, there’s a churning anxiety that lies below the acoustic guitar and harmonising vocals: in many ways musically and thematically Witching Waves are relinquishing the control that’s always been a fixture of their music – with all the thrilling and nervous fallout that comes from that. Although the pair have since returned south (having relocated to Exeter), Streams and Waterways also serves as a document of their foray northwards. The surviving artefact from Jasper’s never-to-be-finished studio that he’d began to build in Yorkshire – following the ending of his London-based Sound Savers studio – the record is also the first to feature current bassist Will Fitzpatrick, who joined initially live on their support tour with Australian punks Camp Cope. Fitzpatrick – a key component of Liverpool’s DIY scene for two decades – quickly became a key part of the writing process. Recording sessions were done during periods of lockdown that allowed congregation, Jasper recalling a still unborn Ivy kicking hard during an early mix playback of It’s A Shame’s layered noise rock assault. “The song was about my past, a much harder time. But my future was egging me on” he says. It’s a neat summation of Streams and Waterways and its representation of the discomfort of life amidst the compulsion to ride on its journey regardless. It’s a record that finds Witching Waves looking into the future more than ever before, but still bristles with the rush of being in the moment – because ultimately, despite what may have happened or may yet come, the band’s strongest trait remains being able to keep you feeling in the present.