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Demilitarize follows Nazar’s remarkable 2020 debut Guerrilla, which reprocessed Angolan kuduro music with rough textures, field recordings and media clips, telling a personal story of the civil war that exiled his family to Europe, while his father, a rebel General, fought a losing battle in the jungle back home. After Guerrilla, and an extended period of serious illness, now Demilitarize is motivated by a reckoning with mortality and the flowering of new love, turning the ‘rough kuduro’ of Guerrilla inside out.This is a deep sound world, genuinely dreamy, the arc of the album describing shedding the armour of trauma and surrendering to this new situation. A constant and unexpected aspect of Demilitarize is Nazar's gentle, submerged vocal. Insistent and mantra-like, it’s like a cross between Elisabeth Frazer, Arthur Russell and Frank Ocean, and the music is fragile and opaque in response. The rhythms of kuduro are still here,but move around his voice like fish around a swimmer, while precise sound design illuminates from different angles. Chords spiral, ripple and shoot through the beats giving tracks the loosest of settings; songs disassemble; vocals float off-centre.

Steig ein in die neueste Mega-Firma von Seattle, Telehealth. Sind sie Rebellen, die mit Synth-Punk/New Wave die Grundlagen unserer techno-kapitalistischen Hölle untergraben wollen? Oder sind sie Unternehmer, die Marken aufbauen, um die Märkte zu stören und die Massen auszunehmen? Der einzige Weg, das rauszufinden, ist, ihr Debütalbum für Seattles älteste Mega-Firma, Sub Pop Records, zu kaufen. Green World Image folgt auf eine ausgedehnte US-Tournee, ein selbst veröffentlichtes Album und eine knackige 7"-Single aus dem Sub Pop Singles Club aus dem Jahr 2023. Für Fans von B-52s, Water From Your Eyes, Devo und Snooper. Die Kalshi-App ist ein ,Prognosemarkt für den Handel mit der Zukunft", eine Plattform, auf der Leute auf das Ergebnis von fast jedem realen Ereignis wetten können - von der Genauigkeit der Wettervorhersage bis hin zur Frage, ob in Gaza offiziell eine Hungersnot ausgerufen wird oder nicht. Als der Mitbegründer der Plattform, Tarek Mansour, Ende 2025 als offizieller Wett-Partner zu CNN kam, meinte er nach dem Deal: ,Die langfristige Vision ist, alles zu finanzieren und aus jeder Meinungsverschiedenheit einen handelbaren Vermögenswert zu machen." Telehealth wurde in dem chancenreichen Umfeld des Post-COVID-Seattle als skalierbares Musik-Startup mit ähnlichen Zielen gegründet. Das Unternehmen wurde 2022 von dem Ehepaar und Glücksspielbegeisterten Alexander Attitude (Synthesizer/Gesang/Gitarre) und Kendra Cox (Synthesizer/Gesang) gegründet, zu denen sich die langjährigen Mitarbeiter Ian McCutcheon (Schlagzeug), John O'Connor (Bass) und Dillon Sturtevant (Gitarre) gegründet. Die Gruppe will alle Meinungsverschiedenheiten darüber, wie die chaotische lokale ,Musikszene" weitergehen soll, zu Geld machen. Kann man DIY sein und gleichzeitig eine gute Suchmaschinenoptimierung haben? Kann man progressives kulturelles Ansehen und bares Geld gleichzeitig verdienen? Ist Kunst, die durch ,Kulturförderungen" der Tech-Industrie finanziert wird, irgendwie langweilig, authentisch gorpcore (junge Männer leben laut der New York Times den ,Quarter-Zip-Lifestyle") oder ironischerweise punkig? Für Telehealth ist die Antwort auf diese Fragen nicht ja oder nein, sondern eher eine unerschlossene Lücke im Musikmarkt, die auf eine Band wartet, die visionär und verrückt genug ist, auf die Verbreitung zu setzen. Produziert von Trevor Spencer, Green World Image, ist das zweite Album von Telehealth (nach dem Debütalbum Content Oscillator und einer Veröffentlichung des Sub Pop Singles Club, beide aus dem Jahr 2023) und sein Börsengang mit den Angel-Investoren Sub Pop ein vertikal integriertes Kunstwerk für die Post-Grunge-, Post-Flanell-Seattleiter und Konsumenten auf der ganzen Welt, die ebenfalls bereit sind, ihre eigene Leidenschaft für Musik zu finanzieren. Das traumainformierte, ergebnisorientierte und äußerst tanzbare Weirdo-Punk-Album ist inspiriert von Attitudes Zeit als ehemaliger Architekt in einer Climate PledgedÖ-Stadt, die mit ihrem Netzwerk aus effizient zonierten 5-über-1-Gebäuden die Kunst der ,Green World"-Architektur perfektioniert hat. Der PNW-Post-Punk von Telehealth schafft ähnliche architektonische Räume, in denen sich die glänzenden, futuristischen, techno-industriellen Rhythmen und Synthesizer des Seattle der Bezos-Ära mit dem rohen, unabhängigen Underground-Sound vermischen, den die Stadt aus kulturellen und Marketinggründen liebevoll bewahrt. Das Ergebnis? Stell dir XTC, REM und YMO vor, mit einem stärkeren Fokus auf ROI. Stell dir The B-52s vor, aber B2B. Stell dir einen intelligenteren Brainiac, einen transhumanen Gary Numan oder einen terminalen Online-Pylon vor. Endlich eine Band mit so vielfältigen Talenten, dass sie sowohl in deinem Keller als auch in den Amazon Spheres spielen kann.

[a] 1[USER ONBOARDING SEQUENCE]

Peach’s Soak Vol. 1 is a cross-Canadian link-up with Mood Hut that moves through slower, deeper waters.

The mini-LP was written after a tour through Asia that opened up something new in how Peach approaches making music. The turning point, as she tells it, came during a visit to a neighbourhood sento in Tokyo, while surrounded by steam rising in suspended time, something clicked about the relationship between the body and the sounds she wanted to make.

She’d been learning about cycle synching and working out with the phases of her hormonal cycle, respecting energy fluctuations throughout the course of a month, and decided to apply the approach to writing music. She allowed shifts in energy to guide tempo, density, and emotional tone rather than strictly answering to the floor.

Soak came out of this exploration, sketched and layered with field recordings from her trips to Vietnam and the Philippines during a challenging time in her life. Fragments of heat, air, and shoreline are absorbed into the music itself. Vapourous pads, low-end weight, fractured percussion, and melodies hover at the edge of dissolution. Water runs structurally through the record in surges, in tidal pacing, in the slow accumulation of texture.

Wherever this music finds you, please enjoy the Soak.

The funky, atmospheric, evocative and sometimes downright weird output of companies such as DeWolfe, Cavendish, Burton and the ubiquitous KPM have always been a guiding inspiration for ATA Records, as evidenced in the spooky soundtrack works of The Sorcerers, the big band brass of The Yorkshire Film & Television Orchestra and even in the soul-jazz of The Lewis Express ('Theme From The Watcher).

Everything released on ATA is written and guided by the label heads Neil Innes and Pete Williams, who frequently dip their toes in the Library pond while working on other projects. These occasional one-off tracks have accumulated over the past few years and have now found a home on the first volume of an ongoing series : The Library Archive

Recorded using the same techniques and equipment used to create the now legendary catalogues of music sold to the film and television industry of the 60's & 70's, The Library Archive could easily sit alongside the plain minimalist covers of KPM or Telesound.

The fierce Brass of 'Whack, Slap & Blow' and 'Kaye Okay' could both be a Keith Mansfield cut, acting as a theme tune to a glamorous saturday night tv show circa 1972. 'Duck Strut' is a cheeky slice of Bass driven Brit-funk, Muted horns and flute adding an element of Quincy Jones amongst the grooving drums and percussion. 'The Needle Nose', 'Midnight Heist' and 'Wiretap' are amongst the more cinematic tracks on the album. Moody and atmospheric, they conjure up images of dark alleys, shadowy figures and dead letter drops. 'Wigged out' channels the wonky organ weirdness of Italian library legends I Marc 4 while 'Nuclear Wind I & II' use Moog and Mellotron as electronic counterpoint to ethereal voices. 'Siren's sea's' acoustic interlude conjures up images of distant clifftops, gossamer vocals enticing you onto the rocks before album closer 'Planet Nine' traverses the cosmos.

As Poorly Knit completes it's first arc of the Sun, it's children become four, as a new mini LP is born.

Tending to his crop with dreams of rotation, Bruce sows and scythes four new grains in the porky mill. Of this strange fruit, that further explores his increasingly familiar, hyper-real and sonically surreal work within this current “movement,” he finds his foothold once more in a wild world intensity: fear and fury grappled in equal measure.

What's more, in celebration of the plentiful harvest thus far, (let alone in the interest of seed diversity), Bruce invites four fellow reapers to the farm, offering their recipe from the spoils of the label's yield:

Vancouver based Brit-abroad, dj_2button pulls apart 'The Hand,' with his 'Accidental Mood Mix,' to be reborn as an Odyssian 13 minute stomper: "a fight of emotions, of light and dark; in quiet protest to the incessant fear mongering that slowly numbs us on a global scale." Balearic shores can be seen glimmering in the distance, whilst you are dragged by part man part (very horny) bull into the depths of dancefloor madness.

re:ni proves she is the captain of her own ship as sweet SSRI numbness billows in the sheets and fraying, dubwise halyards tether and tear through her devilishly elegant 'sertraline queen mix'. polyrhythms plotted and percussion plundered; the vocal from 'Golden Water Queen' sounds oh so sweet in the claws of its new Regina.

Hotly titted deep house reviver, fka boursin empties clips with their bubblegum 'boomkat mix,' of 'The Price,' swivelling the original's brash and bawdy bonce, to face a 120 reality we all need to wake up and start sniffing. Sprinkled with trauma on an icing of a bassline more than a little rood, boursin is packing enough cake for the whole function to take home in (dreadful) goody bags (and even allowed compression in the mastering - mental).

Last and indubitably not least, from lying somewhat dormant in the depths of UK dance music legend, none other than flippin' Untold (!?) rises to seal the release with typically megalithic prowess. Proving he was just resting his eyes for a bit, his 'A1 Mirabelle Mix,' weaves and whips an otherworldly beauty, technically tantalising 'Dham's Jam' in adornments both sour and sweet. It's nothing short of a cloaks and daggers banger, primed for the darkest of dancefloor cosmic moments, and serving as a little less-than-warm-reminder that Untold’s presence in the world of dance music is crucial as ever.

Frankly, if you couldn't tell from all the verbose waffle, they have all absolutely smashed and finessed it: they were all approached after expressing a real resonance from the previous releases and it's such an honour to have them and their fantastic visions on the label.

Available digitally or on high quality cassette, the final chapter of the Poorly Knit's first act has been woven whimsically into the fraying folds.

a A1. It Ain’t Over Till… 04:37
b A2. Wesley’s Sniped All Our Bleeding’ K (Re-Vamped) 05:40
[c] A3. Rockfall [05:06]
[d] A4. You Were Right [10:00
[e] B1. The Hand (dj_2button's accidental mood mix) [13:07]
[f] B2. Golden Water Queen (re:ni's sertraline queen mix) [05:36]
[g] B3. The Price (fka boursin's boomkat mix) [08:30]
[h] B4. Dham's Jam (Untold's A1 Mirabelle Mix) [09:42]

[a] A1. It Ain’t Over Till… [04:37]
[b] A2. Wesley’s Sniped All Our Bleeding’ K (Re-Vamped) [05:40]
[c] A3. Rockfall [05:06]
[d] A4. You Were Right [10:00
[e] B1. The Hand (dj_2button's accidental mood mix) [13:07]
[f] B2. Golden Water Queen (re:ni's sertraline queen mix) [05:36]
[g] B3. The Price (fka boursin's boomkat mix) [08:30]
[h] B4. Dham's Jam (Untold's A1 Mirabelle Mix) [09:42]

Wally Badarou is a synth pioneer and musical polymath. But rarely does he sing over his sumptuous tracks. The 6 songs that comprise new record Simple Things finally realise Wally's vision for select backing tracks from his beloved Colors Of Silence.

The tracks were originally developed back in 2001 for the release of the original CD; here, Wally has “simply" added overdubs and vocals to their mastered mixes with some discerning edits. Simply put, Simple Things is another slice of simply stunning Wally Badarou genius.

Simple Things has been decades in the making. Indeed, Wally struggled not only with the idea of singing these wonderful songs himself but singing them in English and writing his own lyrics, while wrestling with the sensational backing tracks, which themselves seemed to have taken on a life of their own.

As Wally explained to us: "In addition to the instrumental artist I have been known as, so far, there has always been a singer who simply was not sure he was, up until now. Even though “Back To Scales Tonight”, my very first album, was, indeed, a song album."

Opener "It Couldn't Be You" embellishes the uptempo groove of soca-funk gem "The Lights Of Kinshasa". As Wally explained to us, it's about “a simple love story somewhere, one rainy night, under the lights of Kinshasa. A woman, a man, online dating, quite usual in our times. Then they meet, almost missing each other." The guide vocal Wally had laid for Colors Of Silence - with an organ sound - seemed striving for words in Linguala, a Congolese language he could not speak. Therefore the decision to do it himself was not an easy one, for it had to be in English to fit his singing. We think it turned out pretty good!

"You Can't Hide Always" vocalises Wally's deep concerns set to the propulsive "Smiles By The Millions": "Populism, ostracism, radicalism, ethics and values all turned upside down worldwide, are they all inevitably exacerbated by our social networks? It could all melt down one day, like a house of cards in the ocean of fake news and false prophecies”. Wally wanted to keep the track as bare as possible but, inevitably, the backing vocals and the synth-brass arrive ultimately to present a welcome 70s flavour, with no snare-drum added.

The bright and breezy "We'll Make It Again" adds vocals to "Where Were We", a tropical, reggae-tinged bounce through the islands. Here's Waly: "Where were we when we last said: "I love you"? Simple words to express something quite common, but never quite simple to deal with. A simple song about the resilience of the broken hearts.” The reggae came from it being conceived when Wally was scoring for “Third World Cop”, a 1999 Jamaican action movie.

"Walk Straight Ahead" provides Wally's gorgeous, contemplative and idiosyncratic vocals to the deep serenity of Colors Of Silence highlight, "Amber Whispers". It's a gliding, divine, mini melodic masterpiece. It'll make you swoon in its extreme beauty. As Wally describes, "it started as just whispers, sweet amber whispers. Then the colour turned darker, as darker skies seemed to fall upon us while the whole world keeps on walking ahead, straight ahead, regardless of the blatant warnings, feeling much too comfortable in conformity. Initially, the verses were to be spoken only. I realised they could be sung all the while, without overshadowing the ethereal atmosphere." Amen.

The serene, celestial "Painting My Life Blue" presents the vocal version of "Days To Wonder". Says Wally, "how does it feel when your second half is gone after decades of riding life together? Past the temporary loss of your bearings, you come to realise you've been blind to the essential, and suddenly you can see...For this most intimate song of mine, I had tried to come up with a melody on top of the existing backing track, long before realising the melody was in the keyboard part already. It just needed to be properly mixed with it."

The profoundly emotional "Just Two Lovers" works up the formerly-too-brief and glorious "Crystal Falls" into a much fuller masterpiece and features acoustic guitar sparkle before fully glistening with some gentle head-nod percussion. Waly explains further: "Dear little green men, please tell me, what is it about us that makes you want to come and visit us so often (contrary to Fermi's assertion)? And here is the reply I believe I heard them sing: "You've got the key you've been searching for: Love”. I reverted to the initial backing track I had made around 1985, which already bore the melody, and which I added acoustic guitars to, before singing it." An astounding closer.

A synth specialist, there can be few artists more under-appreciated given their vast influence than Wally Badarou. His solo work practically defined the sound of the Balearic DJs of the 1980s, and thus the more sophisticated sound of dance culture thereafter. He was one of the Compass Point All Stars (with Sly and Robbie, Barry Reynolds, Mikey Chung and Uziah "Sticky" Thompson), the in-house recording team of Compass Point Studios responsible for a series of albums in the 1980s recorded by Grace Jones, Tom Tom Club, Mick Jagger, Black Uhuru, Gwen Guthrie, Jimmy Cliff and Gregory Isaacs. Badarou's keyboard playing could also be heard on albums by Robert Palmer, Marianne Faithfull, Herbie Hancock, M (Pop Muzik), Talking Heads, Manu Dibango and Miriam Makeba. He also produced Fela Kuti. Phew!

When we asked Wally about the significance of this collection's title, he explained: "These are "Simple things” that everyday’s life seems to build upon. The simplest are the harder to describe, but when satisfactorily described i.e. with simple words, they are the more genuine and authentic to express and share. I’ve immersed myself in other classic song lyrics, something I hardly did before, just to appreciate the genius behind the simple words they were made of, and had a great time studying how powerful they were in expressing complex ideas such as love."

Recording was twofold: first, most of the backing tracks were recorded in 2001, in Wally's studio in Normandy, mostly using hardware synths and Yamaha digital consoles. Then, he fine-tuned the melodies and wrote the lyrics in late 2023, then added some overdubs and sang them all during summer 2024. States Wally, "Digital Performer was and remains the DAW I’ve been using throughout, ever since the 80s."

Wally's sophisticated synth textures and expressive keyboard runs are so full of character, so full of life, that this work of art transcends any easy genre categorisation. Meticulously remastered and cut by both Simon Francis and Cicely Balston respectively, it has been pressed to the highest possibly quality at Record Industry in Holland. Sometimes, the simple things are the most extraordinary.

In 2047, amidst the deafening yet oh-so-familiar soundscape of the Movement Festival in Detroit, we met again: I, pdqb, and Scape One, known as two of the most respected electronic music composers worldwide. The air pulsed not only with the latest beats but also with a barely perceptible energy only the two of us knew. We hadn't simply flown in; we'd arrived with our fantastic "Diskmind" time-travel machine, an incredible invention, capable of effortlessly catapulting us through the centuries.

"It's unbelievable, isn't it?" I shouted over the bass, eyebrows raised. "A machine that lets us travel through all of history, and there isn't a single song that honors it! Not one!"
Scape One nodded vigorously, his gaze sweeping over the stage lights. "That's absurd! How can such a revolutionary invention remain unsung? It's almost an insult to music history itself."
We looked at each other, a silent understanding in our gazes. The mission was clear: The "Diskmind" needed its anthems. And who, if not us, who used and loved it, should create them?

And so, we decided to become the musical chroniclers of the "Diskmind," ready to tell the story of our time machine across four different eras...

For Synaptic Cliffs, it's an extraordinary honor to present these three Scape One variations of the original song 'Diskmind' (first released on The Electrifying Dojo, 2025). Each masterpiece was recorded in different future decades of the 21st century (of ourse with the help of the Diskmind time travel machine) and reflects the corresponding trend in electronic music. A1: A timeless, pristine Electro composition from the year 2035. A2: An IDM marvel from late summer 2075, recorded in the Zero gravity of Space Station 775. B: An Experimental Electronica symphony recorded at pdqb's Studio 577 on Mars Outpost 47A. Only musical equipment that doesn't currently exist was used for this release

Carly Simon’s quietly intense sophomore album comes across like an assertive notice nailed to a telephone pole for all to see. Bold, personal, and autobiographical, Anticipation announces the arrival of an artist who won’t back down. While Simon stands her ground on her eponymous debut, she elevates her passion and persona to heightened levels throughout this gold-certified record, dealing in private matters related to love, relationships, and desire. At times, Simon is nothing short of primal. She reflects on the difficulties of retaining your own identity while also giving yourself to a partner. Simon’s connection to her folk roots would never be stronger.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, and housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 45RPM 2LP set of Anticipation lays bare the rich tapestries afforded by the spare blend of soft guitars, mellow orchestration, and dreamy melodies. Audiophiles and record collectors, take note: This is the first time Anticipation has been available on 45RPM. The wider grooves and dead-quiet surfaces prove extremely rewarding.

The rhythmic framework anchored by session pro Andy Newmark’s drumming sounds dynamic and balanced, with songs benefiting from a focused midrange and taut low-end. Simon’s attachment to and investment in each lyric is made evident by way of the intimate, hushed atmospherics and expansive responsiveness. And just as Simon’s vocals feel more transparent and direct, so, too, do the supporting choral arrangements.

Released before the singer-songwriter movement reached full bloom, Anticipation remains remarkable for the high-quality songwriting and Simon’s gutsy stance. The album cover — depicting the vocalist holding the gates at Queen Mary’s Garden in Regent’s Park and seemingly defying anyone to take her on — serves as a metaphor for the content within.

Known for having relationships with high-profile partners, Simon was heavily involved with Cat Stevens leading up to the recording of Anticipation. She draws from her experiences to craft tunes that resonate because of their honesty, realism, and strength. Few of those moments are better known than the Top 20 title track, which Simon composed in just 15 minutes as she waited for Stevens to pick her up for a date. Imbued with the nervousness, tension, and excitement that accompany the moments when a romance could go either way, the Grammy-nominated song presages the feminist-minded vulnerability and burning longing that informs a majority of the record.

On the soulful “Legend in Your Own Time,” also inspired by Stevens, Simon harnesses yearning as a conduit to feel-good paradise. Deemed by Rolling Stone an “absolute clincher, an awesome description of the psychic ravages of gone-nuts, know-nothing love,” her cover of Kris Kristofferson’s “I’ve Got to Have You” moans with no-holds-barred desire and breathtaking sensuality.

For all the wanting Simon pursues on Anticipation, her way of staying in control — vocally and personally — make the record a courageous statement of contemporary femininity. For further evidence, look to the bossa nova of “Summer’s Coming Around Again,” somber “Share the End,” soothing “Three Days,” and sincere “Julie Through the Glass,” a tribute to her young niece.

Simon would achieve international fame with her next album, No Secrets. Yet as this definitive reissue shows, Anticipation suggests the rest of the world was just a little late catching up to her.

Rythm Of Paradise launches his brand new label “Ritmo Adriatico” with "Divina EP", a sonic manifesto of Italian house music. This four-track journey blends the power of main stages with the warm intimacy of clubs, always driven by a profoundly Mediterranean soul. A first release that doesn't just present a sound, but tells a story.

The EP opens with main track "Divina" , powerful and immediate groove built for the dance floor, wrapped in warm atmospheres and bright pads that create a sense of high energy, with emotional breaks that reminds French Kiss sound.

Followed by its remixed version of Divina by St. David where he reimagined and elevate the impact on main stages. The bass becomes more prominent, the groove expands, and the voice became more hypnotice, without ever falling into cliché.

B1. Italia Novanta is where, Ritmo Adriatico reveals its beating heart. "Italia novanta " is a respectful and modern tribute to the golden era of Italo House, diving into the Mediterranean soul of the 90s, reinterpreted with today's power.

Closing with B2. Te Quiero where takes the dreamy atmospheres and immerses them in a deep, meditative dub treatment of spacious bass lines and captivating Italo house piano licks.

Written and Produced by Michele Lamacchia.
Mixed & Mastered by St. David

Dense, deep, drifting in the universe between dream, memory and reality.
Thought-provoking impulses with a philosophical background add an empathetic component to the power of the narrators' words in a charismatic way.
The common thread running through the four tracks like a warm red ribbon is a homage to the freedom of the individual.
A utopian sound clip that tells of acceptance and departure.

"All I Do Is Dreaming" is the band's third album.

A journey that takes you through various landscapes—gliding over electronic plains, climbing colorful pop hills, and occasionally venturing onto rugged indie rock trails.

Along the way, several encounters: a stop in Mexico with a remix by CLUZ, a collaboration in the UK with boundary-crossing indie artist Just Jack, and in the US with artist Pedro Blue.

Camel Power Club has never been more open to the fusion of ideas and talents—and it suits them perfectly.

Aimer Perdre is a movie by the Guit Brothers and tells the story of Armande Pigeon; the queen of shenanigans. In Brussels, she struggles to make ends meet because she can’t stop gambling on everything, always ending up on the wrong side of luck. When she teams up with Ronnie one night, everything changes – they win it all. And when you hit a winning streak, you have to know when to stop.

For Aimer Perdre, Brooklyn NY native Simon Hanes travelled to Brussels in order to work directly with the directors, synchronizing the editing of the film with the composition of the soundtrack so that both processes would influence each other. Hanes and the Guits spent 3 months working alongside each other almost every day, passing ideas back and forth and allowing the soundtrack to grow organically. The music is an honest representation of Hanes’ experiences over those months, which he spent couch surfing across Brussels, sharing meals and ideas with new friends in broken refrains of French and English – falling asleep at the Cinémathèque, and occasionally breaking into abandoned buildings…but thats a story for another time.

Throughout all this, Simon hired musicians he met in bars, members of the Brussels experimental/artistic community, singers from a choir that was rehearsing in the squat where the Guits built their editing room…All the while sculpting the soundtrack out of these seemingly dissolute elements and constantly blurring the line between the compositional process and his day to day life.

Finally the process culminated in hiring the FAMES string orchestra for ONE SINGLE HOUR (all they could afford) to achieve the full orchestral sound the film’s climax so clearly needed.

The end result, like the film itself, is a reflection of life – a hodgepodge of sounds, colors and ideas that come together to create a beautiful, unique tapestry, sometimes harmonious, other times less so.

Comes with a limited edition flexidisc with a bonus track.

he initial seed for this project was planted in 2020 when Nicolás Jaar wrote the song “Piedras” for a concert at the Museum of Memory & Human Rights in Santiago, Chile, which commemorates the victims of human rights violations during the military dictatorship led by Augusto Pinochet between 1973 and 1990. Between 2022-2023 it took on a new form as a radio play entitled 'Archivos de Radio Piedras', which was shared on a dedicated Telegram channel. In 2024, the play was converted into a 24 channel installation at the University Museum of Mexico City (MUAC), where it was exhibited for 5 months.

Piedras 1 and 2 is a collection of the tracks featured within the play, all new music by Jaar, but partly presented within the play as the music of Salinas Hasbún (the name a composite homage to Jaar's grandmothers, Graciela Salinas and Miriam Hasbún).

The play follows two friends mourning the disappearance of Salinas Hasbún, a musician and writer who vanished in the early 2020s. Although they live in a future where technology is advanced, they
resort to DIY radio methods because the anonymous group “Las 0cho” has launched a worldwide attack on undersea internet cables, causing a global internet blackout.

The play's central theme revolves around the idea that truths, memories and identities speak from the cracks (“rasgaduras”), or the "in-between" spaces ("en el entre"). This concept is supported by the
way much of the narration unfolds - in the liminal spaces between radio frequencies. The instability and transitory nature of a constantly shifting radio dial becomes not just a metaphor but the structure of the play itself. It’s in these moments of noise, static and interference that the deeper revelations of the story emerge. This disjointed, ever-changing medium mirrors the way memory and trauma operate within the play - non-linear, slipping through the gaps, found in fragments or ordinary moments, rather than direct transmissions of “official” historical accounts.

This notion reaches its climax at the end of the narrative, when a text is discovered in which Salinas speaks of finding a new number in a small pond in a cave mentioned in the first episodes of the radio play. This pond, inside the “cochlea of the world”, is seen as a way to introduce real-life randomness to computation. Embodied in the salt lakes of northern Chile, home to the world’s oldest bacteria, this randomness disrupts the rigid order of binary code, paving the way for a transformation of digital life.

First solo release by Nicolás Jaar since 2020’s Telas and Cenizas.

To coincide with its 20th anniversary, Clint Mansell's haunting score to Darren Aronofsky's 2000 film, Requiem for a Dream, performed by Kronos Quartet, returns to vinyl. This was Mansell’s second of several collaborations with Aronofsky, following 1997’s π, and features arrangements by David Lang of Bang on a Can. The film stars Academy Award-winner Ellen Burstyn, Jared Leto, Jennifer Connelly and Marlon Wayans, and was adapted from the 1978 novel by Hubert Selby, Jr. (Last Exit to Brooklyn), who also wrote the screenplay with Aronofsky. Set on the rusted mean streets of Coney Island, Brooklyn, Requiem for a Dream tells the parallel stories of four people pursuing their dreams of better lives. The reissue features the original soundtrack, plus two bonus tracks.

Clint Mansell, a musician, composer, and founding member of the band Pop Will Eat Itself, first worked with Darren Aronofsky on the score for his 1998 film π. Also released by Nonesuch are Mansell’s scores for Aronofsky's The Fountain (2006), nominated for a Golden Globe, and Noah (2014). His other scores include The Wrestler (2008), Moon (2009), Black Swan (2010), Filth (2013), Stoker (2013), High Rise (2016), for which he received an Ivor Novello nomination, and Loving Vincent (2017).

For more than 40 years, San Francisco’s Kronos Quartet – David Harrington (violin), John Sherba (violin), Hank Dutt (viola), and Sunny Yang (cello) – has combined a spirit of fearless exploration with a commitment to continually re-imagining the string quartet experience. In the process, Kronos has become one of the world’s most celebrated and influential ensembles, performing thousands of concerts, releasing more than 50 recordings, collaborating with many of the world’s most eclectic composers and performers, and commissioning over 850 works and arrangements for string quartet. A Grammy winner, Kronos is also the only recipient of both the Polar Music Prize and the Avery Fisher Prize. Most recently, in 2019, Nonesuch released Kronos’s ground-breaking collaboration with composer Terry Riley, Sun Rings, and, in 2017, Folk Songs, featuring Sam Amidon, Olivia Chaney, Rhiannon Giddens and Natalie Merchant.

Schlammpeiziger, who had previously only been known to us for his top hits and T-shirts, burst upon us like a wild boar in search of affection in the middle of the coronavirus lockdown. He nested in our fully vaccinated home, drank our Eversbusch, ate from our plates, slept in our bed (wait - wrong fairy tale) and repeatedly urged us to organise egg runs with his testicles (after some contortions, we gave up trying). Childish faecal humour, far-fetched obs(t)enities, juicing, a desire to dissolve, composting of thoughts. In excesses of lack of concentration, the chains of associations curled and meandered like Jo's famous curlicue drawings. Every evening, after we had forcibly levered him out of our flat, he would ‘walk’ home to put together very unique , dreamy pieces. In the blissful brainfog of those days, for example, ‘Handicapfalter’ was created, for which the congenial °Bär° made our flat into the corresponding video. Among other quirks of the little gut-breather, we were fascinated to observe his phobia of literature and books. Just hold a printed page in front of his face for a few seconds and he writhes on the floor crying. A level of phobia that only my own laughable disgust and fear of writing myself can compete with. Jo shudders at the thought of reading sentences that build on each other in a meaningful way, and I shudder at the thought of having to write them down because I have something ‘to say’. A certain affinity cannot be denied. We are much, much more pleased by snatched-up, misunderstood or misheard snippets, hollow but unforgettable phrases, the diamond stoner humour of our ancestors. ‘From one turn/ I stop/ to walk on/ in all directions’ (as it murmurs in “Selten Gesehenes”), describes the process quite nicely. After all, Jo is ahead of me in that he can simply break off every tedious sentence and let it fade into music. Back to the essentials. It's five to 12 for the Schlammpeitzger (scientifically Misgurnus). The shy goby is under threat from climate change, so perhaps this vinyl is the last expression of life of the specimen that we have been allowed to look after sporadically since the lockdown phase of the corona epidemic. And it's turned out pretty. Even the aesthetically gutted like me and my beloved husband can THINK about sex when they see these sublime, silvery fart bubbles! It's tender as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Do you have words. Do you have sounds. Impertinently harmless piano tinkling turns into tugging zounds of increasing severity. It is not dubbed (would be unethical) but dubbed. Sounds dubby, as you can imagine. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht: Possibly vaguely misogynistic. Could also be that there was simply no light in the hole. The sparse snippet of lyrics (‘du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht’) sounds like one of those stroppy Cologne replicas whose anti-charm is hard to resist. Buzzing and grooving.

Selten Gesehenes: Casual. Confident. Soft. Fragrant. Thoughtful but lively.

The Arabian Vietmanese (instrumental) is probably the food we trust in the case of the munchies we get when we watch other people smoking weed. Transcendental and psychedelic states casually permeate the humdrum of everyday life. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marches and floats at the same time. Klebt Runner: Soundtrack to the cult film of the same name. Tyrrell Corporation loosens up. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks somehow, because there is dangerous proximity to comprehensible and then also critical statements here. Instead, the sinister electronic cheapness of Carpenter soundtracks can be heard. Parzipan: Actually, the time of origin was not so roaringly funny and simple, but for Jo it was also a gruelling, slow letting go of his brother. Here he sends him off with a gentle nudge into the vastness of a hopefully happy beyond.

Clara Drechsler

Schlammpeiziger, der uns bislang nur durch seine Top-Hits und seine T-Shirts bekannt gewesen war, brach mitten im Corona-Lockdown über uns herein wie ein wilder Eber auf der Suche nach Zuwendung. Er nistete sich in unserem durchgeimpften Zuhause ein, trank unseren Eversbusch, aß von unseren Tellerchen, schlief in unserem Bettchen (Moment - falsches Märchen) drängte uns wiederholt dazu, mit seinen Hoden Eierlauf zu veranstalten (nach Verrenkungen gaben wir den Versuch auf). Kindischer Fäkalhumor, weit hergeholte Obs(t)zönitäten, Entsaftung, Auflösungswunsch, Gedankenkompostierung. In Exzessen der Konzentrationsschwäche ringelten, kringelten und schlängelten sich die Assoziationsketten wie bei Jos berühmten Kringel-Schlängel-Zeichnungen. Jeden Abend, nachdem wir ihn gewaltsam aus unserer Wohnung gehebelt hatten, „ging“ er dann heim, um dort sehr eigene, verträumte Stücke zusammenzubasteln. Im seligen Brainfog dieser Tage entstand z.B. „Handicapfalter“, für das der kongeniale °Bär° aus unserer Wohnung das entsprechende Video machte. Neben anderen Marotten des kleinen Darmatmers beobachteten wir fasziniert seine Literatur- bzw. Bücherphobie. Halt ihm nur sekundenlang eine bedruckte Seite vors Gesicht, und er windet sich weinend am Boden. Ein Grad an Phobizität, mit dem sich nur meine eigene lachhafte Abscheu und Angst vor dem Selberschreiben messen kann. Jo schaudert beim Gedanken, sinnvoll aufeinander aufbauende Sätze lesen, mir wiederum beim Gedanken, sie hinschreiben zu müssen, weil ich irgendetwas „zu sagen“ habe. Eine gewisse Verwandtschaft ist nicht zu leugnen. Viel, viel mehr freuen uns aufgeschnappte, falsch verstandene oder misshörte Fetzen, hohle, aber unvergessliche Phrasen, der diamantene Kifferhumor unserer Vorfahren. „Aus einer Drehung/bleibe ich stehen/ um in alle Richtungen/weiter zu gehen“ (wie es in „Selten Gesehenes“ raunt), beschreibt den Prozess schon ganz schön. Immerhin hat Jo mir voraus, dass er jeden leidigen Satz einfach abbrechen und in Musik ausplempern lassen darf. Zurück zum Wesentlichen. Es ist fünf vor 12 für den Schlammpeitziger (wissenschaftlich Misgurnus). Die scheue Grundel ist von Klimawandel bedroht, vielleicht haltet ihr mit diesem Vinyl also die letzte Lebensäußerung des Exemplars in Händen, das wir seit der Lockdownphase der Corona-Epidemie sporadisch betreuen durften. Und die ist hübsch geworden. Selbst aus ästhetischer Erwägungen Entdarmte wie ich und mein geliebter Mann, können bei diesen sublimen, silberhellen Pupsbläschen DENNOCH an Sex denken! It´s zart as a fart. Make love!!!!!

Schamlose Dubtöse: Hast du Worte. Hast du Töne. Impertinent harmloses Klavierplätschern geht über in ziepende Zounds von zunehmender Strenge. Es wird nicht domptiert (wäre unethisch) sondern dubtiert. Klingt dubtig, wie ihr euch vorstellen könnt. (Instrumental)

Loch ohne Licht. Möglicherweise vage misogyn. Könnte auch sein, dass im Loch einfach kein Licht war. Das sparsame Textfetzchen („du biss mir och esu e Loch ohne Licht“) klingt nach einer jener pampigen kölschen Repliken, deren Anticharme man sich schwer entziehen kann. Schwirrt und groovt.

Selten Gesehenes: Lässig. Souverän. Softig. Duftig. Nachdenklich aber beschwingt.

Beim Arabischen Vietmanesen (Instrumental) gibt es wahrscheinlich die Speise unseres Vertrauens im Falle der Munchies, die wir kriegen, wenn wir anderen Leuten beim Kiffen zusehen. Transzendentale und psychedelische Zustände durchziehen beiläufig den schnöden Alltag. Klar Knuspermarsch: Marschiert und schwebt zugleich.

Klebt Runner: Soundtrack zum gleichnamigen Kultfilm. Tyrrell Corporation macht sich locker. Ungenutzte Sätze: Stinks irgendwie, weil hier gefährliche Nähe zu nachvollziehbarer und dann auch noch kritischer Aussage gegeben ist. Dafür klingt die sinistre elektronische Billigkeit von Carpenter-Soundtracks an.

Parzipan: Eigentlich war die Entstehungszeit gar nicht so brüllend lustig und einfach, sondern für Jo auch ein zermürbendes, langsames Loslassen des Bruders. Hier schickt er ihn mit sanftem Schubs hinaus in die Weiten eines hoffentlich schönen Jenseits.

Clara Drechsler
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On his latest full-length, Low End Activist swerves towards weightless grime and suspended hardcore miniatures to tell a very personal story. The UK-rooted producer continues his habit of zeroing in on a distinct approach for each release, leaving a logical breadcrumb trail of soundsystem science in his wake as he channels decades of bass absorption into 14 atmospheric cuts that prize patience and precision over obvious club functionality.

Municipal Dreams plays out as a semi-autobiographical tour through the Blackbird Leys estate that the Activist grew up on. It’s a lived reflection on inequality and the ripple effect it has in working class communities, using the sonic palette to set the mood and scattering pointed samples throughout to spell out the story.

In sampling the exhaust of a stolen Subaru Impreza, ‘TWOC’ looks back to the recreational car theft which was standard entertainment for the kids in his community. There’s an underlying idea that this ‘council estate sport’ wouldn’t have been so prevalent if there were public services and opportunities presented to the scores of disaffected youth looking for somewhere to direct their energy and frustration.

In ‘Just A Number (Institutionalised)’ LEA alludes to the shattered juvenile detention system, growing up seeing friends and family members locked up at ease with little to no support on being released back into society, just meant that the same cycles of behaviour would play out over and over.

‘Violence’ samples from a short film shot by the drama division of the Blackbird Leys Youth Club to evoke the physical threat which formed a background hum to life on the estate. The industrial mechanics of the local car factory, which served an integral role as a workplace for many in the community, gets sampled in ‘They Only Come Out At Night’ while the ‘Everyone I look up to are either junkies or criminals’ sample in ‘Broke’ looks to a lack of positive role models.

Municipal Dreams isn’t a one-note indictment of life on the estate, ‘Innocence’ captures the simplicity of a child at birth before their environment has time to shape them. The Hope interludes cut through the grim honesty of the longer tracks while a subtle thread of wry humour finds its way into some of the talking heads cutting through the signature LEA murk.

But honesty is the operative word here, and the message feels all the more meaningful at a time when the UK’s social divisions are laid bare in the wake of a devastating stretch of austerity. Returning to Blackbird Leys to shoot images for the photo-zine and album cover, the Activist found the local community centre being demolished. The local pub stands derelict, its faded Welcome sign a grimly ironic portent of the options facing children of the estate in the wider world.

Funnelling his memories, hopes and fears into a singular twist on the bass weight tradition, LEA captures evocative scenes that land somewhere between kitchen sink realism and rave futurism.

The package, posted from Inglewood in California, dropped through my letter box…
I was looking forward to seeing this, the VHS of the then relatively ‘unknown’ but now legendary live show at the Saenger Theatre in New Orleans by Maze featuring Frankie Beverly. But when I fed it into my VHS player, I was disappointed. I could not quite figure out why. The band were tight, each musician sounded great, the product of being on the road, year after year, club after club in the States, sometimes playing five shows a night, all propped up by one of the best soulful voices we had ever heard, the maestro Frankie Beverly.
It took a second play of the VHS to realise what was missing. It was ‘too comfortable’ an atmosphere. A few wealthy customers sat around coffee tables quaffing champagne. It seemed to me that this audience, somehow, did not fit the band.
Paul Fenn at Asgard promotions received the contract from the band to appear live in London and Manchester. I became more and more convinced that his UK fans were going to be a lot more responsive than those from New Orleans.
We put the word out with just a couple of exclusive ‘shout outs’ by Robbie Vincent on his Radio London Soul programme. Those two plugs were enough to sell out all four shows at London’s premier music venue, the Hammersmith Odeon. The ticket office was rammed and the queue six deep, stretched halfway down Queen Caroline Street.
“I have never seen anything like it” expressed the manager of the theatre as he rolled down the shutters and turned on the “Sorry, SOLD OUT” notice above the theatre box office.
I was curious, so I went up and stood in the wings of the Hammersmith stage on that first show. Frankie, introduced to the stage by his sound engineer, Greg Blockman, sauntered past me, strumming his rhythm guitar, dressed in a casual dark green towelling suit, a brown leather visor and flip flops…and then five seconds later, he suddenly stopped. He seemed suddenly to be aware of the thunderous ’Welcome to London Maze’ roar, circling around the theatre about to engulf him. He slapped every black and white hand offered up to him that night, with a huge smile as he circled the edge of that stage. We wanted to get next to him, even if it meant climbing over rows of seats in front of us to do so.
That was the beginning of our love affair with Maze and Frankie Beverly. It certainly wasn’t New Orleans comfort; it was more like a crazy, but friendly, London riot.
Five albums on from the “Live in New Orleans” LP, Frankie sauntered into the California recording studio, probably with the same swagger as in London, to cut the delightful A-side here, “Somebody Else’s Arms”, from his aptly named ‘Silky Soul’ album. Along with the B-side, ‘Love is’ (from the “Back To Basics” CD, 1993) both are so delicious you might want to relax and pour yourself that London glass of champagne, 1983 vintage. Tell your mates your Maze/Hammersmith story too. You deserve it.

This batch of releases is what Deeper Knowledge Records is really all about - showcasing and making available fantastic music that has been rarefied, but with no correlation to its quality. That is to say, music that we feel is every bit as great as well known, much-loved and canonized classics, but just never reached the ears of as many folks, only due to its unavailability. And the music made by the close-knit foursome of Trevor Byfield and Clive Matthews as artists, and Norman "Fox Fire" Vassell and the late Clinton "Percival" Williams as producers, is just that. Starting in the late '70s and into the early '80s, this foursome cut some of the best and heaviest roots reggae tunes of the era. We will be issuing eight great singles from these folks. Trevor Byfield's "Tell Me That You Love Me" is one of the most dread love songs that we've heard, and the flip is one of the most truly psychedelic, heavy and unique Tubby's dubs ever mixed. In fact, the crew liked this rhythm for this song so much that they cut three tunes on it!

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.