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After a collage tape collab with Bardo Todol back in 2022 (SUC52, Magnetic Road to Hell) Robert Millis finally gets his Discrepant debut proper, a much overdue entryin our random catalogue of lost musical oddities.

The not so self explanatory title Interior Music explores Millis obsession with hidden sounds and its anomalies. An hermetic rearrangement of emptiness could be another more big headed title. But I leave the man to talk about his thing:

‘’The phrase interior music occurred to me a few years ago as a way to describe some recent work. It’s about the resonances inside of hollow wooden chambers (and hollow heads) like gramophones and talking machines, music boxes, instruments, metal containers, and resonant rooms. It’s about exploring tiny audio fragments—single notes, vinyl and shellac surface noise, recording mishaps and anomalies—and arranging them into something meaningful. It is about my own interior mishaps and anomalies and attempts to arrange THEM into something meaningful. It also references “interior design” with the placement of sounds in specific locations, layers or in juxtapositions.

Inspirations include Steve Roden’s lowercase work, Toshiya Tsunoda’s field recordings, Eliane Radique’s slowly shifting ambiances, and the musique concrete of Pierre Schaeffer, as well as the dhrupad and kayal traditions of Indian classical music—especially Kesarbai Kerkar and the Dagar family who have a sublime way of stretching out individual notes and exploring their endless permutations, combinations and connotations.’’

Robert Millis is a sound artist known for his work with Climax Golden Twins, the Helen Scarsdale Agency, the soundtrack to cult horror film Session 9, the Victrola Favorites book and cassette series, and many releases on Sublime Frequencies including Indian Talking Machine, Paris to Calcutta: Men and Music on the Desert Road, compilations of the earliest music recorded in Korea, Japan and Myanmar, and the documentaries This World is Unreal Like a Snake in a Rope and Phi Ta Khon: Ghosts of Isan. Somehow he is a Fulbright scholar (to India 2012-13) and the recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship (2020). He has or currently does play with AFCGT, Idol Ko Si, and/or Telescoping.

The Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam Woldemariam at the creative helm, provided the musical backbone for legends like Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, Mulatu Astatke, and Mahmoud Ahmed, including the iconic album Ere Mela Mela, shaping modern Ethiopian music as we know it today. This 1976 album (Ge’ez Year 1968) played a pivotal role in that legacy and has now resurfaced to set the record straight.

There’s a tendency to talk about the seventies as a golden age of Ethiopian music. There are good reasons for that, and just as good reasons against it. However, the notion of a golden past privileges the role of Western explorers and suggests that the pinnacle of Ethiopia’s musical culture is something only a foreigner can appreciate and unearth. It downplays the complexities of Ethiopia’s culture and history, creating an artificial divide between then and now. And it underestimates the constantly evolving sound that has followed.

The legendary musical outfit The Ibex Band, later metamorphosed into The Roha Band, has played a central role in defining the sound of many of the greatest stars on the music scene of Ethiopia from the mid-seventies onwards–but their golden output has never really waned. The story of the origins of the band that provided the musical backbone for greats such as Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, backing the solo career of group member Mahmoud Ahmed as well as backing Mulatu Astatke and many others has yet to be properly told.

Two misconceptions plague the image of Ethiopian music, one is that the music is pure because it is, by some notion, unexploited, the other is that it is all traditional. To begin with, a combination of political changes between the late sixties and the mid-nineties created an environment where only the most dedicated and skilled musicians struggled on and pursued a musical career against fierce odds. The whole Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam “Selamino” Seyoum Woldermarian at the creative helm, are arguably the origo of the vibrant scene in the mid-seventies, and the said pair are foremost responsible for not only navigating the band through troubled times, but also modernizing the 6/8 chickchicka rhythm to a contemporary form. Giovanni laid the rhythmic foundation with heavy looped basslines that reinvented traditional melodies as dance music, and with Selamino’s innovative guitar work they influenced scores of musicians from Abegaz Kibrework Shiota to Henock Temesgen. Even Giovanni’s Fender bass and Selamino’s Gibson guitar inspired younger musicians in their choice of instruments. Not only in choice of instruments but also in sound–even as the digital revolution hit Ethiopian music, a lot of popular music still took its cue from the masters from Ibex and Roha.

Ibex emerged out of the ashes of the sixties group the Soul Echos band, adding Giovanni and Selamino to their ranks and taking their cues from a slew of influences, such as Motown and The Beatles, fused with traditional music. A tighter-knit unit than most bands at the time – Ibex has remained six to seven members throughout their whole career, compared to many bands that were as large as fifteen or sixteen men strong when Ibex set out. Their playing has been viciously focused, economical yet heavy. Just a year before the recording sessions of the album in your hands, Giovanni and Selamino made a contribution to the popular musical lexicon of Ethiopia that was simply defining the popular sound: their arrangement and recording of bandmate Mahmoud Ahmed’s solo effort and real commercial breakthrough tune and eponymous album, Ere Mela Mela, from 1975.

Selamino has never limited himself to being an adroit lead guitarist, but has always been a scholar of history, and as such he has probably contributed as much to modern Ethiopian music with his guitar playing and compositions as with a deepened understanding of modern or contemporary – Zemenawi – Ethiopian music. Selamino’s contributions serve as a metaphor for those of the whole band, at one and the same time creating and defining a new, danceable and updated sound anchored in Giovanni’s bass, whilst also elevating the broader scene through their support for others on the scene and on top of that, increasing the understanding of the music.

There is an understandable desire to romanticize the musical heyday Ibex and Roha were at the forefront of, because so much of the output is sorrowfully hard to come by. Ibex creativity was nothing short of ridiculously fierce compared to many of their Western contemporaries. Based on their sheer recorded output alone they could have usurped the title “hardest working in show business” from James Brown, recording more than 250 albums or 2500 songs in the seventies and eighties. Some only surface as cassettes today, others were never given full LP release, and some are simply impossible to find today. In the light of that, it’s nothing short of a miracle that the recording Stereo Instrumental Music from 1976 (Ge’ez Year 1968) has resurfaced. Unearthed in perfect condition on a chrome cassette, this is musical history comes alive–to set the future straight. Stereo Instrumental Music was recorded in collaboration with Karl-Gustav Lundgren, a Swedish national working for the Radio Voice of the Gospel. It took two sessions at the Ras Hotel ballroom in Addis Ababa. The Ibex Band was the first band in Ethiopia to employ a four-track recorder for their recording (the first available in the country, lent by Karl-Gustav). Later the same week, Giovanni and Selamino realized that, lengthwise, the recorded material fell short of what they wished for, so they recorded four more tracks in one more session on a single-track recorder. The Ras Hotel and Ghion Hotel, where the Ibex Band held musical residencies were to Ethiopia in general and Addis Ababa in particular what Motown was to the USA and Detroit a few years earlier – a hotbed of musical creativity and showmanship.

The most astonishing thing about Ethiopian music of the last half century is how tradition and modernity are intertwined. Because of this feature, it’s kind of hard to tell when there ever was or when we are in a “golden age”. So much of music from the past has been criminally neglected, but because of the hardships in the past, it would be an oversimplification to say that said past was a golden age. Probably, the golden age is what we are approaching, because for the first time both the past and future are accessible, and the monumental contributions from before can lay a firm foundation for a thriving music scene today. The Ibex Band stands firmly in the past, present and the future. That, if anything, is golden.

The detailed history of Stereo Instrumental Music is in many ways unique. To begin with, it couldn’t have been recorded earlier (there were no four-track recorders available) and it really couldn’t have been recorded afterwards either, at least not in the years directly following, because of the toll the musical scene took from the unfavorable political climate that followed when the nascent Derg regime and rival groups tried to assert themselves, the musical equipment lent from The Voice of Gospel Radio simply disappeared from Ethiopia when the radio station folded in 1977. Karl-Gustav Lundgren,
the Swedish foreign national who assisted during the recording, worked with the Ethiopian Evangelical Church Mekane Yesus at the time, recalls how they only had about fifteen minutes to get the microphones in place for the recording as to not alert neither the management at Ras Hotel nor the authorities and most importantly, to complete the recording before the curfew came into effect at midnight. In leaping to the opportunity to use previously unavailable equipment to push their sound forward and improvising to meet the logistical challenges, the Ibex Band displayed the very avant-gardism and adaptability that explains their longevity as a band through the years. The recording of Stereo Instrumental Music is from a given time in history, but it sounds as beyond time.
Much of the energy that burst out of the scene that Stereo Instrumental Music came out of dissipated or got sidetracked during the societal changes Ethiopia went through in the 1970s and 80s. Whilst leaders might have professed to be revolutionary, the work ethic of the Ibex Band can truly be described as that. They never called it quits, but adapted, toured extensively abroad in Africa, Europe, and the Middle East, and found ways to work even in the face of the curfew that curtailed a lot of musical life. They even played major arenas in the nineteen eighties, despite said curfew and restrictions. The whole extent of their legacy has never been told, but their music speaks louder than words, so therefore… tune in to the Ibex Band’s Stereo Instrumental Music.

past present (tone poems across time)" is Mark de Clive-Lowe's exquisite new solo album and his debut for Greg Boraman's Impressive Collective label in partnership with BBE Music. Previously the pair released the Pharoah Sanders tribute album 'Freedom', and the equally lauded 'Hotel San Claudio' in collaboration with Shigeto & Melanie Charles. A deeply personal sonic exploration by Mark, "past present" is a reflection on family, heritage, and healing which was created in tandem with retracing his late father’s journey across Japan 70 years ago. The project is a collection of ambient jazz, emotional cinematic soundscapes that weave analog synths with field recordings from Japanese sacred sites and nature locations. "past present” partially came into existence thanks to the perseverance of producer, percussionist and Mark’s friend Carlos Niño, who after experiencing Mark's multi-layered motifs in the studio and in live contexts over many years explains, "I kept hearing him make an album like this, I kept telling him that he needed to, and that it would be his best album yet. Subtle, poetic, solo, texturally rhythmic, expressive, full of rippling layers, and arrangements representing such profound thoughts, feelings, relationships, and memories". Mark also took on board Carlos' recommendation of recording the bulk of "past present" at Ken Barrientos’ analog synth studio, 'The Breath' in Pomona, California - where he utilized no less than 22 different keyboards to create the ethereal and engaging soundscapes across all 11 tracks, also intertwining his own field recordings made during a long, explorative stay in Japan. Being such an individual and personal concept, it was only correct that Mark wrote the extensive album liner notes, to fully illustrate the decades-long backstory to this stunning collection. Mark completes the album's presentation using archive images from his family's private photo collection - an entire process he likens to time travel and signs off to the listener by stating that he hopes "it takes you on your own journey of imagination and reflection, leading to unexpected places, just as it has for me

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

As a founding member of Dublin experimental folk group Lankum, Ian Lynch explores submerged leylines of music and song. Forging a musical path that is all at once dark, mysterious and foreboding, but ultimately transcendental. His new solo project One Leg One Eye sees him taking a fresh approach to musical arrangement culminating in a sound that is more rooted in the raw aesthetics of second wave black metal than contemporary folk. The project was born across 2021, a period in which Lynch was able to enjoy the freedom of experimenting and exploring different paths of sound design without expectation or pressure. Seeking out interesting settings to record music and gather field recordings, there are several environments, external and interior, whose respective essence have seeped into the spirit of the music and come to represent Lynch’s artistic approach and development with this singular debut album, …And Take The Black Worm With Me. Rediscovered spaces in Dublin and the familiar enclave of his bedroom are intrinsic to the distinct and sometimes harrowing atmosphere conjured throughout the album’s five enveloping compositions. One particular location, an abandoned factory where his father worked when Ian was a child, provided a space of great inspiration and intrigue during this time. Lynch frequently visited the large abandoned warehouse and sang with his shruti box, contented in his solitude. ‘I’d Rather Be Tending My Sheep’, grew into existence from those initial sessions, eventually finding a home as an emotive centrepiece to the album. Reflecting on the overall recording of …And Take The Black Worm With Me, Lynch says, “Everything I was doing with these songs was all kind of new to me; experimenting with different sounds, textures and palettes and seeing what I could come up with by piecing it all together. I spent about a year making the album. I loved the whole process because it was basically just me in my bedroom recording everything. The experience of recording like this and having my own time to do it was amazing. I could focus on recording a specific element and happily spend all day working on that one part, doing it as many times as I wanted. At the end of the day if it didn’t feel right, I could just try it again the next day. When you’re on your own you can spend as much time as you want on particular parts until you feel that it’s absolutely perfect. I found that to be a really liberating experience. It was probably my favourite experience recording music.” The collection of songs (and their chronology) featured on …And Take The Black Worm With Me tell a story unique to Lynch’s experiences with anxiety and recognising his shadow self. Whilst the album became an outlet of personal expression for Lynch, the overarching themes and subsequent journey to confront one’s internal dichotomy of light and dark before accepting this inherent duality is universally shared. The eerie and often unsettling world contained within the album’s texturally dense opener ‘Glistening, She Emerges’, driven by the captivating drone of distorted uilleann pipes, immediately immerses the listener in this transportive work. It descends with a great heaviness, yet woven throughout the arrangement is a fascinating and indescribable entity that draws you further into this otherworldly dimension. This mood continues as the tracklist progresses and transitions into Lynch’s haunting realisation of ‘Bold and Undaunted Youth’ which further demonstrates a cinematic influence to Lynch’s compositional style. Sonically, Lynch effectively builds an impressively vast terrain with brilliantly murky lo-fi recording techniques and an unshakable curiosity to move beyond conventional structures and play with the timbre of the instruments available to him. From recording hurdy-gurdy or concertina to tape and experimenting with loops and effects pedals to stitching field recordings together, there’s an intimacy established between Lynch and his audience established through the simultaneously eerie and beautiful tones courting through …And Take The Black Worm With Me. This culminates in ‘Only the Diceys’, the extraordinary closing track in which we reach a place of resolution mapped into the album’s narrative structure. Mixed by longtime collaborator John ‘Spud’ Murphy in his Dublin-based Guerrilla Sounds Studio and mastered by Harvey Birrell …And Take The Black Worm With Me features contributions from Ruth Clinton (Landless) on church organ and vocals by Laurie Shanaman (Ails, Ludicra). Of Shanaman’s participation, in particular, which further illustrates the lo-fi and DIY ethos to the recording, Lynch says, “Laurie is my favourite black metal vocalist of all time and so I reached out to her hoping to have her involved in some way. She did, and she features on the opening track by providing some incredible screams. She recorded them into her phone and sent them over to me; what appears on the album is literally a phone recording of her screaming in her kitchen!” …And Take The Black Worm With Me continues Ian Lynch’s groundbreaking work with Lankum; recontextualising traditional forms and generating new spheres of music in his wake, confirming his status as one of the most interesting and innovative artists working in Ireland today.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

In 2016, Cliche Morph offered the aquatic textures of "Liquid Materia". "Hidden Madness" is the return and a new beginning. Four tracks of intense introspection mark a collaboration and a founding, Deep Sound Channel and Postdynamic. Atmospheric and immersive, from the needle drop the listener is immediately drawn into the subterranean chambers of this cerebral piece. A stark beat is the guide rope, a snare that echoes and ricochets into the cavernous expanse of cold currents and all too real phantoms. Feeding off that palpable paranoia, Psyk pours a thick resonating syrup over the original before pulling the switch. Darkness descends, distortion and reverb dominate with a steady kick delivering some form of solid ground. Respite? No hope. Pound and thud tell the arrival of "Exorcist". Industrial groans and a clanking larynx are cut through by haunting strings, a meagre echo of humanity in this absorbing and unsettling track. Blazej Malinowski closes. Drum patterns are amplified and concentrated in the producer's purge of "Exorcist", hi-hats hissing as the spectral refrains of the original shift in shape and form. A 12" that plumbs the physical and the psychological depths of sound.

Hitman tells the unbelievable true story of Gary Johnson (Powell), a strait-laced professor who discovers his hidden talent as a fake hit man. He meets his match in a client who steals his heart and ignites a powder keg of deception, delight, and mixed-up identities. Reynolds’ idiosyncratic cross-genre score combines disparate elements seamlessly to reflect the comic and emotional components of the story, with a nod to the NOLA location.

Emmanuel Mario returns to Karaoke Kalk with his third album under his Astrobal moniker for the Berlin-based imprint. »L’uomo e la natura« (»Man and Nature«) sees the prolific drummer and producer, who has worked with artists such as Laetitia Sadier and label mate Pink Shabab, take a different musical route than before. The French electronic music composer pays homage to the spirit of library music while also making concessions to different strains of pop and even classical music. With only two of the ten songs putting words to the music, »L’uomo e la natura« is a masterful exercise in the evocation of atmospheres: expressing much while saying very little outright—show, don’t tell.

The album was born out of a desire to push the envelope. »I wanted to make music that was both pop and ambitious in its chord progressions as well as surprising in its construction,« explains the Paris-based artist. Taking inspiration from library music artists such as Alessandro Alessandroni or Bruno Nicolai as well as the more cosmic strains of electronic instrumental music, he strove »to create a soundtrack that would immediately bring to mind outer space.« The first of the three singles released ahead of the full album, »L’abeille pourpre,« captures this spirit with funky rhythms and an overjoyed interplay of different melodies, all tied together by wordless yet terminally catchy vocals.

The second single, »Miami 2064,« traverses through many different moods in its six-minute run-time: Starting off as neo-noir synth-wave piece, it then proceeds to pay its dues to the masters of the cosmic music tradition such as Tangerine Dream or, of course, Jean-Michel Jarre before slowly descending back to Earth with guitars and dreamy synthetic vocals, playfully punctuated by a plethora of wistful melodies. It is the perfect encapsulation of the open-ended approach Mario follows throughout the entire album, taking full creative licence in regards to songwriting and arrangements. »I wanted to surprise myself,« he shrugs. He succeeded.

»L’uomo e la natura« rewards multiple listens not only emotionally, but also intellectually. »I also wanted to talk about politics and ecology, because it’s impossible not to,« Mario notes. Some of the track titles express this more openly than others and the two title tracks sung by Mario and Nina Savary use French and Italian lyrics, respectively. However, as a whole the album leaves things open to interpretation. Does »The End of Capitalism« sound elegiac or triumphant? And what do you actually make of this musical vision of the Floridian metropolis, whose mere existence is threatened by climate change already today, four decades from now? Mario doesn’t necessarily answer these questions—he doesn’t tell, he shows.

As Tele Novella, Chronis (who performs in the beloved and rekindled indie pop band Voxtrot) and Ribbons (who previously performed in the long-running “Victorian punk” project Agent Ribbons) have spent their past two albums creating "Medieval outsider country" on 2016’s House Of Souls and 2021’s Merlynn Belle. Poet’s Tooth – the band’s second album for Kill Rock Stars – steers the duo’s whimsical western-tinted quality into fascinating new directions: cinematic-pop balladry on the autoharp-tinged opener “Young & Free,” gently clip-clopping Americana-folk on “Hard-Hearted Way,” and bass-driven funk on the wry “Eggs In One Basket.” With help from producer Danny Reisch, Tele Novella have crafted their most genre-rich, poetic, and sincere album yet.

1/4" / 15 IPS / Dolby A Analogue Copy to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe

Carlos Santana and Company Return to a Dynamic Blend of R&B, Latin, Funk, and Rock: Amigos Aims for the Hips, Spreads Joy, and Includes “Europa (Earth’s Cry Heaven’s Smile)” Amigos has been beloved for decades by both long-time and recent Santana admirers, with multiple generations of fans drawn in by the record’s contagious blend of R&B, Latin, rock, and funk elements. As well as its immense accessibility. Coming off a series of albums that heavily leaned into jazz fusion, the band returns to the more dynamic and concise approaches of its earlier works without losing the sense of adventurousness, craftsmanship, and virtuosity that turned it into a juggernaut embraced by both the mainstream and experimentally minded communities.

Mastered at Mobile Fidelity’s in-house studio in California, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, and strictly limited to 3,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 33RPM LP of Amigos presents the 1976 album in audiophile sound for the first time on a domestic release. Part of the reissue label’s Santana series, this collectible version features quiet surfaces and black backgrounds that help reveal the intricate details, distinguished tones, and cohesive interplay that cause Santana’s music to take flight.

The enhanced aural perspectives extend not only to Carlos Santana’s intoxicating fills and solos, but to the rich tapestry of the rhythmic, melodic, and vocal elements that help Amigos feel as fresh today as it did several decades ago. This LP shines a beaming light on the surrounding musicians that simultaneously feed off and inspire their bandleader. The solidity and depth of the bass lines; the wash of the organ; the scope and carry of the vocals; the grip and weight of the low-end frequencies; and, possibly the most enticing traits, the textures of the acoustic guitars, numerous percussive devices, and then-modern synthesizers: all come across with tremendous presence and energy.

Entirely appropriate for a set that kicks from the start, with the opening “Dance Sister Dance (Baila Mi Hermana)” true to the song title’s combination directive-invitation meaning. Tropical, soulful, upbeat, and liberating, it beckons hips to shake and delicious libations to pour. Clinking cowbells, spirited background vocals, hand-tapped congas, and Carlos Santana’s six-string magma pour forth with abundance. The song sets the mood and expectations for a record that contains not an ounce of filler, and which inspires and spreads joy at practically every turn.

On the gold-certified Amigos, the ensemble never seems to run short of zest or happiness. Key in on the Latin bite and searing guitar architecture of “Take Me With You,” an instrumental that shifts tempo at its midpoint and sparkles with a samba-like outro that aims to put everyone in earshot on the dance floor. Surrender to the slow-burn of “Tell Me You Are Tired,” sent up with Greg Walker’s sympathetic vocals and spun around with whirling funk accents. Marvel at the Spanish guitar introduction, Mexican folk foundation, group vocals, and extroverted grooves of the forward-propulsive “Gitano,” with lead singing by conga/bongo expert Armando Peraza.

Having reached the Top 10 in the United States and spawned the hit “Let It Shine,” Amigos marked the final stint for bassist David Brown, the last of the group’s famed Woodstock lineup to depart. His contributions feel especially spirited throughout the album, compass readings that the group uses to chart their course. Just listen to how his passages pop on “Let Me” and frame the can’t-get-it-out-of-your-head “what you need is what you want” refrain. And while Carlos Santana remains the centerpiece of the brilliant and meditative “Europa (Earth’s Cry Heaven’s Smile),” Brown serves as a trustworthy anchor and friendly advocate.

Ten years on, Joana Gama and Luís Fernandes show no signs of slowing down. Over the past decade, the duo has released five albums, composed soundtracks for film and television, and created pieces for performing arts. With “Strata”, they embark on a bold exploration of their musical identity, breaking new ground by seeking the primordial, the raw, and forging a deeper creative synergy. This evolution makes their music feel less like a conversation and more like a unified, introspective monologue.

Until now, their work has largely been defined by dialogue - a dynamic exchange of ideas evident in their earlier records. However, in their relentless drive to push boundaries, they now turn inward, embracing a monologue as a pathway for growth, innovation, and celebration of their journey so far. Two key elements shape this transition: Joana’s growing affinity for synthesizers over piano, a direction initiated in “There’s no knowing”, and her integration of field recordings gathered from diverse locations around the world. Rather than stepping into each other’s domain, the duo finds common ground, creating music that thrives on harmony and introspection.

“Strata” stands as Joana and Luís's quieter and most cohesive record to date. It reflects their desire to craft music that resonates with the natural world, unfolding as a seamless stream of sound that enhances their connection and invites the listener into their creative process. While their previous works were compelling, they often felt distant, as if the listener was observing from the sidelines. “Strata”, by contrast, draws the listener in, encouraging them to fill the spaces and find their own place within the duo’s monologue.

This process climaxes in the closing track, "Geode," where the subtle sounds of debris underscore the tightly woven structure of “Strata”. It’s a testament to the duo's commitment to evolution and their ability to surprise both themselves and their audience. A decade into their collaboration, “Strata” reaffirms Joana and Luís's creative vitality, offering a record that feels both fresh and deeply rooted in their artistic vision.

Slam poetry, rap battles, singing, song writing and drumming. The hit album “Say Yes” by Iyeoka is now being released as a high quality vinyl version (180 g) in gatefold. The YouTube hit “Simply Falling” received over 216 Million clicks.

Iyeoka (read: ee-yo-kah) is well versed in many expressive arts, but in essence she is a storyteller and poet. "My goal is very simple", says the US Nigerian American, "I want to move the world, one poem at a time". She does this enchantingly well with her album "Say Yes (R)evolved". In poems set to music Iyeoka Ivie Okoawo (her full name) reveals herself to be a strong, self-confident woman of the modern world. She tells tales of love and relationships in the 21st century and philosophizes about the daily struggle of life and being a woman in a post-feminist world digging deeply and personally into her African roots.

Musically Iyeoka handles expertly a wide variety of styles from electronic soul "Break Down Mode" to technofied R'n'B "Broken Hearts Anthem (Walk Away)", from energetic dance inducing grooves "The Yellow Brick Road Song", to a more jazzy "Happily Ever After", from melodic soft rock "Say Yes", to pop "Soundtrack to Life" and reggae "Testify". She certainly has presence and shines out with a silky smooth elegance reminiscent of Sade "This Time around", "Simply Falling". This woman has real all-round talent, and she knows how to use it!

"Because it's the passion for music that drives the person behind the decks, a dj's debut is bound to exude authenticity. It's often themselves they're recounting in music, posing on the slip mats their DNA and what makes them who they are.

When you're just starting out, you're faced with a multitude of routes to take and styles to play. When you know just how devastating it can be to step out of line and empty the dance floor even faster than it filled up, it often takes a lot of audacity to break the unity of a funk evening with a punk track.

Over time, to evolve is to find oneself facing only two roads.

On the first one, to satisfy the greatest number of people and not lose the credit for his fees, the dj adapts to the trend. Whether he likes what he's playing or not, the road has become a freeway and, indeed, a very comfortable one. The audience already knows everything there is to hear and doesn't come to hear anything else. Thirty seconds, or even a minute of each track, is more than enough. Everything has to flow quickly. Everything is marked out and secured. Those who respect the regulations will (normally) make the journey without accident. Several times a week, several times a month, several times a year. Curiosity disappears altogether.

And then there's the other road. Where nothing is expected nor sometimes even ever heard. The road of an unquenchable passion for diggin' and the desire to always know more and more. A passion billed at the price of hours of research-finding spent in the discomfort and possible disappointment of never coming across anything exciting, as well as nights exploring platforms and multiplying clicks resulting in a good old headache. Until that moment of grace happens when, after thousands of fruitless shakes, the nugget stands alone in the sieve, without the slightest doubt as to its quality.

Coming from places never mentioned for their music, sometimes classics of their genre, they are also rarities miraculously saved from total disappearance, as much as current marvels, but threatened to never leave the immensity of the web. Even if the possibility of a text with substance is never excluded, they can tell long stories or be destined solely to make you dance till you're dehydrated. Scintillating with spirituality, some can also vaporize energy and replace it with a pure emotion capable of touching hearts in the bareness of simple percussions.

This road is marked by sincerity, singularity and surprises, but always in a communion between the dj and the audience, who embark on it together, with mutual confidence in the promise of hours of sharing and discovering. "

Horrible Occurrences is the title of the new Advance Base album, and there is truth in advertising. In these songs_all centered around a fictional town called Richmond and featuring an interlinked cast of characters_you will hear stories of death and disappearance, climactic confrontations and unsolved mysteries. "Richmond is just this place where all the bad memories live," Owen Ashworth explains, and nearly 30 years into his songwriting career, none of his records have packed quite the emotional intensity of this one. And yet something alchemical happens in the telling of these tales. Like a masterful short story collection, Horrible Occurrences is inspiring and alive, idiosyncratic and electric, pulling you closer with each word. In the six years since his last full-length collection of originals, 2018's Animal Companionship, Ashworth gathered ideas from performing live and traveling around the country, returning to cities that he once called home and revisiting old ghosts, memories, and fragments of unfinished ideas. Blending truth and fiction into a dreamlike composite, the songs convey the winding path our memory takes as the years go by, giving voice to a subconscious that is still unpacking old memories for new wisdom. Drawing inspiration from the otherworldly loneliness depicted on '80s masterpieces like Arthur Russell's World of Echo and Bruce Springsteen's Nebraska, the music never crowds Ashworth's detailed storytelling but it also never feels auxiliary. These are beautiful songs, but they stick with you for their ability to strike dissonant, unforgettable emotional chords. It is this pervasive empathy in Ashworth's songwriting_along with his writerly gift for clear settings and complex characters_that has made him a guiding light for so many independent artists. The things that happen throughout Horrible Occurrences are what we tend to call "unspeakable"_events that draw gut-level responses just from acknowledging that they could happen. But part of the triumph of the record is how simply and generously Ashworth finds the language to share them. For the characters in these songs who make it out okay, these are the types of memories they will be tossing and turning their whole lives, waiting for quiet moments to confide them among the people they trust. For the rest of us, they are signs of life along the highway on a dark, snowy night: reminders that, as isolated as we may feel, we are not alone on the road.

This band, and this album, function as critical missing links that takes one from The Fall to Yard Act, from Television and The Minutemen to Parquet Courts and Sleaford Mods, from punk as a sound to punk purely as an ethos. While any Van Pelt album is a stand alone album, the unique approach they take begs one to enter their world and dig deep in.

RELATED TO: The Lapse, Native Nod, St Vincent, Blonde Redhead, Enon, Jets to Brazil, Vague Angels, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, American Football, Texas is the Reason.

‘The lines between post-hardcore, indie rock, and emo blurred on the two mid-’90s full-lengths from the Van Pelt.’ Pitchfork

‘New York City’s The Van Pelt are an influential, but too often overlooked indie rock band -- cult favorites for many an emo-inclined crate digger.’ Consequence of Sound

‘...should be mentioned a lot more than they are when you talk about the history of emo.’
Washed Up Emo

Back in the day there was this thing called an A&R guy. They would hang out at small venues looking to throw money at the next big thing. In the early 90s, everyone was looking for the next Nirvana of course. NYC's The Van Pelt had just released an album of anthems called "Stealing From Our Favorite Thieves" that seemed to be just that. The only thing is, they didn't want to sign. Legend has it $2 million was turned down over pierogies and coffee one Monday morning because The Van Pelt didn't want to risk crashing and burning. Instead, they were gunning for a long and stable stride even if that meant they would largely remain out of the public's eye forever.

Lack of willingness to play the game didn't mean people weren't waiting with baited breath for their follow up album though. In 1997 The Van Pelt released "Sultans of Sentiment", an album nearly devoid of the anthems and licks people were expecting. In fact, it's a complete bummer of an album that subjects the listener to the point on life's curve where the hubris of youth gives way to a cresting crashing defeat no kid with heart could ever have seen coming. Seeing as humanity are sick fuckers who revel in the misery of both themselves and others, the popularity of Sultans grew and grew and continues to win new loyal fans even today. It's for this classic album The Van Pelt has never fallen off the radar.

That being said, their swan song "The Speeding Train" was recorded while they were working on their third album. In any other age, in any other way, this song would have been a hit. The Van Pelt broke up mid-recording, released Speeding Train as a single, and the rest of the songs from that session didn't see the light of day until they were released in 2014 as the "Imaginary Third" lp.

Why are we here talking about them today in 2023? Because in preparation for the release of "Imaginary Third" The Van Pelt started playing some reunion shows. Soundchecks revealed to them that this band has a voice that was prematurely muted by their inability to see clearly in the thick of it. Returning to explore just what that is 25 years later has led to this first collection of 9 songs, "Artisans & Merchants". This is not a reunion album. This is vindication for that decision made over pierogies and coffee decades ago. The Van Pelt is a band in it for the long haul, free from whatever trappings the mayflies of trends and markets may bring.

For lovers of The Van Pelt, listening to "Artisans & Merchants" is like hearing the voice of a dear friend you haven't seen in years, a friend you used to share countless beers with over banter that went nowhere other than delivering a solid night. Your friend is older, they've changed. In some ways you're worried for them, looks like they might be teetering on the brink of something. In other ways it's the same old them, a nugget of a soul too unique to ever be altered. It's for those unfamiliar with The Van Pelt though for whom we should be truly jealous. This is a stand alone album, incredible vital song writing in and of itself regardless of the long history this band has. The climax of the single "Image of Health" perhaps describes the beautiful desperation best: "And you never felt more alive / Than when the priest came to read you your rites!"

'We are thrilled to be able to bring you Yara Asmar's first two cassette releases in a deluxe remastered double vinyl gatefold package featuring all new art and design from Yara herself.

Both albums were originally released on Hive Mind Records in 2022 and 2023 and received critical acclaim around the world':

“Melancholic drifts sound through the overcast skies of synth waltzes and accordion laments, infusing ageless melodies with a sense of falling backward through time. History is stitched through gilded aural silhouettes and elegiac drones. Asmar’s music is visceral. While electronics beckon beyond the sunrise stretched through a metallic shimmer, synth waltzes and accordion laments sticks with us while we remain lost in the hazy doldrums, always crawling forward tethered to our past lives. Highest recommendation.”
Brad Rose, Foxy Digitalis

"...these tracks are a cushion against reality. Asmar creates music that unfurls in evanescent bliss, an invitation to a safe space both isolated and welcoming."
Daryl Worthington, The Quietus

"...a set that transmutes the instrument’s droning tones into a sweep of introspective, breath-catching moments of beauty"
Eric Torres, Pitchfork Best Jazz & Experimental Albums of 2023

"The combination and contrast of highly familiar and highly alien elements give Asmar's music a quality not quite like anything else I can name. The way she channels found voices into her surreal mix of sounds is particularly striking."
Byron Coley, The Wire

None of Scattersun’s principal collaborators could easily meet in person. When Fax Gang and Parannoul began work on the album in 2023, they encouraged themselves to throw all caution to the wind with regard to genre and sound palette, ultimately weaving together intense strains of blown-out electronica that pull on a whole manner of stylistic threads, from two-step beats, to flashes of breakcore, cloud rap passages, and pop serenity. Jarring turns that lead to booming, emotional climaxes form the animating logic behind Scattersun. Album opener “Quiet” lulls listeners into a false sense of security before the breakdown tells them do not pay any heed to your expectations as it dismantles itself before exploding into a climax the artists describe as a spirit bomb. Such crescendos and dime-turns are all over Scattersun, defining characteristics which, in their scattered unpredictability, always culminate in enrapturing, playful mimicry of human nature.

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.

Tiny Mouse Tales was released in 2018. At the time, Evgeny was living in a house surrounded by forest. One night he noticed movement in his kitchen and saw a mouse. The mouse kept coming back but seemed to have different features each time! Eventually Evgeny understood that it was a family of mice, and the title of his new record was evident. On Tiny Mouse Tales Evgeny tells the musical story of the family of mice living in his home, expanding his palate to include the trumpet to great effect on tracks such as “Hunter In Love” and “Prologue.” The blog Spellbinding Music sums it up perfectly: “With short pieces such as “Prologue”, “Epilogue” or “Carousel”, the Tiny Mouse Tales EP sketches wonderful cinematic themes begging to be expanded and heard on the big screen.” Naive Album was released in 2019. Album opener “Where Art Thou” announces the arrival of a masterpiece. More than ever, Evgeny’s compositional voice is fully formed. Each track feels like a journey in itself, and the album has several crescendos that make the listener feel as if there is an entire orchestra backing Evgeny. The album closer, “Unexpected Finale Somewhere in Lisbon,” perfectly encapsulates this masterpiece. Running through three separate, repeating themes, the track is at times mournful, intense, epic and humorous. Witness the picked / improvised violin notes on top of the relaxed accordion theme that makes up the second half of the track. Although the record was recorded in Lisbon, this track has the feeling of a stroll down the Seine in Paris, a silhouette dancing with heels clicking left and right. Now, these treasured recordings and pieces of Evgeny Grinko’s creative world will be available in physical format for the first time.

Clothilde’s new album sounds like a constant departure from almost everything. Up until now, her music pieces seemed uncontrolled, a total commitment to the machines. She was, somehow, in between us - listener, audience - and the idea of a machine producing sounds she doesn’t seem to control. Of course, none of this was entirely true, she was mostly in control, but the fantasy, the orchestration of it was beautiful. It was sci-fi-ish, Metropolis-magnificent.

In “Cross Sections” everything is purposely under control. We feel, without being told, that Clothilde is directing the narrative, inviting us to partake of this raw and austere electronic sound, forcing us to learn to enjoy it. This is new. Whereas before she would expect you to stay put and listen, eventually you would understand and give in. Or your body would. Now she is telling you to be there, she doesn’t want to be alone, she wants us to feel this subterranean urgency at all costs.

The real eureka moment comes with “Medullary Rays”, when we start cohabiting with the sounds, when they feel familiar. The darkness becomes real; it is palpable how she is stretching each sound and making them come to life at every moment. It is violent, brutal. Like every track, it's a relief when it ends, it's like coming out of a car crash alive. Much of the A side of is Clothilde pushing the boundaries of her sound. She is not testing but finding new ground and sharing it with us. She is exorcising, demolishing and building over and over again, she is crying and screaming, dozing off with the demential levels of bass, making us constantly listen to alarm bells. She is scaring the shit out of us.

The B side keeps the levels of anxiety high up, especially on the 13-minute “Ring”. Surrealistic drones come and go, every second sounds like the end of something, the accumulation of tension is torrential and it never, never stops. We hope there is a conclusion to this. But there is not. “Cross Sections” builds and feeds on this darkness but, in a way, it is self-contained. Never explodes, never releases itself from itself. It is a continuous process of catharsis that it is never over. It never aims to be. Like, you know, life itself.

We've all been there. It feels familiar. Now it has a sound, or sounds. It can be heard and it is outer dimensional. “Cross Sections” is a tremendous effort from an artist trying to survive something. You never know what is. You don’t need to know what it is. It is just there. Cliché but it has to be said: highest possible volume on this one.

6 years after their last album, fav favourite Kites, Submotion Orchestra make their long-awaited return with the remarkable Five Points EP. Recorded over a period of two months at band member Taz Modi's new studio in the Sussex countryside, it sees the band plough a path through electronica, jazz, soul and ambient in their own singular way. After a period of time spent looking back at their oeuvre, with the release of two Unplugged collections as well as classic debut album Finest Hour on vinyl for the first time, the refreshed, slightly older and wiser band set their sights firmly ahead, and the result is music that sounds like nothing they've done before.

Whilst featuring the uniquely fragile voice of Ruby Wood and the live instrumentation that has been their calling card in the electronic world for so long, the EP also delves into rhythms, soundscapes and effects that push their recognisable sound as far as it can go, and acts as the perfect taster for the forthcoming album that the band are currently recording.

Created as a seamless listening experience, the EP opens with the evocative and atmospheric 'Start Point', as dreamlike synths and brass mix with wordless harmonies straight from the heavens. 'Hope' continues the mood, warm analogue synth patterns combining with fragmented vocals on a persistent build-up to an emotional climax. Lead single 'Side One' cheekily nods to Submotion classic 'All Yours', before moving into newer territory, where Ruby Wood's vocals slowly become distorted and twisted, the perfect backdrop for this story about the loss of hope. Flowing joinlessly into its mirror image 'Side Two', we see the instrumental prowess of Submotion Orchestra which has so long been their defining characteristic in full flow. Finally, 'End Point' brings the EP to a moving and wistful climax, telling a tale of the wisdom that can only come after bitter experience.

Regrooved Records proudly present the ultimate reissue of Axiom Funk's legendary album, Funkcronomicon! This psychedelic and funkalicious masterpiece continues to amaze listeners with its eclectic variety, thanks to the impressive roster of artists under the name Axiom Funk.

At the heart of this project is legendary producer and bassist Bill Laswell, whose artistic vision and skills seamlessly unite the album. Funkcronomicon features appearances by many (former) members of Parliament-Funkadelic, making Funkcronomicon a de facto release of this legendary band. Among the featured musicians are the p-funk legends George Clinton, Bootsy Collins, Bernie Worrell and Jerome “Bigfoot” Brailey, and it features the last studio recordings from guitarist extraordinaire Eddie Hazel. Nex to that it also features contributions from icons such as Sly Stone, Maceo Parker, Fred Wesley, Bobby Byrd, the dynamic duo Sly & Robbie and Herbie Hancock and many, many others.

Funkcronomicon masterfully combines funk with the mythical Necronomicon by H.P. Lovecraft Lovecraft's cosmic horror stories, which radiate liveliness despite the ominous title. The cover art by the legendary Pedro Bell, this was one of his last projects before his vision was tragically lost, adds to the album's enigmatic allure and is reminiscent of Lovecraftian rituals.

Now it's time for a high-quality vinyl reissue of this cultural phenomenon. Remastered and pressed onto three discs, this new batch of Funkcronomicon now comes with extensive artwork and now offers you the ultimate listening experience for this classic album. Don't miss your chance to own a piece of funk history. Get your funk on with this must-have reissue!

Sasu Ripatti presents the fourth volume in his "Dancefloor Classics" series with five 10" releases coming throughout 2023. Music for imaginary dancefloors, released on Ripatti's own label "Rajaton".

”Look up, into the light” she said, while the camera shutter clicked. ”Like this? Does it look holy?” His neck felt stiff. Her reply: ”Yes, just like that. What do you mean holy? Like religious? ”No, more like trying to look very far, somewhere beyond what we can see.” ”Okay, stand still, I’m going to come close to you now. The light hits your face great.” click, click, click.

He noticed her fingernails. They were not polished. Natural. Even somewhat rugged, as if something wore out the fingers slightly. What had these hands held besides the camera? What made the edges of her fingernails drift off?

He thought it’s weird to look straight into the camera. The photographer had closed her left eye, the one not looking into the lens. Then it opened, she looked up, perusing the surroundings, then she closed her eye again, then looked up, closed, looking up, very quickly. It all seemed very professional. Maybe she calculated the light, making sure it’s close to perfect. ”What will these photos look like?” – the thought popped into his head briefly. It was liberating to think it wouldn’t matter.

”What’s that song playing?” he asked. ”Wait a sec, Ol’ Dirty Bastard?” she replied. ”Oh yeah, right. But the sample?” ”Hey, could you look up again, like that. No, lower.”

New directions: ”Look out from the window, turn left.” ”My left or yours?” ”Yours, I always try to think from the direction of my model.” How professional! This is a good shoot, so natural. Should I worry about how the photos look like? No, I don’t want to. His thoughts bounced around. What would the story be like? It’s a big newspaper, everyone will read it. Maybe someone drinks coffee and eats a stroopwafel while they do it. Will they place the waffle on top of the mug for a brief while, so that it gets hot and the syrup melts a little? Then it feels wet, and you can bend the cookie.

She broke his train of thought off midway through: ”Now turn right, but look left, and slightly up, but don’t turn your face right.” ”Umm, like this? Sounds like a set of pilates instructions.” she laughed ”You do pilates?” ”Yeah, it’s hard sometimes. Have you tried?” ”No”, she said. ”I’m not good for sports that are done in groups.” ”Yeah, but in pilates you can just be inside your mind, drowning in your private thoughts.”

”What are you thinking in pilates?” she asked, taking more photos. ”Well, mostly just which way is right. And which left.” click, click.

Q&A with Sasu Ripatti:

1) Tell us something about the EP series ”Dancefloor Classics”, what’s the idea and what can we expect?

I’ve been slowly writing these sort of dance music pieces and finally curated them together for a conceptual release. I like to create music for a dancefloor that exists only in my imagination and doesn’t try to suck up to the standardized reality.

2) Your vinyl format is 10” which is quite special (as opposed to LP / 12”). Why did you choose it?

It’s my favourite format, absolutely. The size is perfect, and you can make it sound really good @ 45 rpm. And you still can make great artwork.

3) You seem interested in sampling/repurposing, what does it mean to you as an artist to approach something already existing from a new angle? How does the source material inform you about the approach to take?

I guess i could flip it around and just say I’ve outgrown synths or electronic sounds to a great extend, and having gotten rid off all my synths already good while ago I’ve used samples as my main source material a lot. It’s obvious on this series that i’ve sampled existing music, but I also sample instruments and things in the studio and resample my own library that I have built over the years, it’s quite large. To me the end result matters, not so much how I get there. Once I have something on my keyboard and play around, it’s all an instrument, though with sampling other music it becomes a really interesting and complex one as you’re possibly playing rhythm, but also harmonic content and maybe hooks or whatever, all at once.
I never sample premeditadedly, like listening to records and looking for that mindblowing 3 sec part. I just throw the cards in the air and see what lands where, just full intuition and hopefully zero mind involved, playing tons of stuff, trying things, just recording hours of stuff. Then comes the interesting part to listen to hours of mostly crazy stuff and finding that mindblowing 3 sec part.

4) What is your relationship with the dancefloor (conceptually and/or in experiences / as a performer)?

Very complicated. I have never really felt comfortable on a dancefloor but have always wanted to. There’s something in club music, in theory, that really speaks to me. It has never really materialized for me – speaking mainly from a performer’s point of view who goes to check on a dancefloor for a moment after a concert. I never have DJ’d or felt much interest towards it. But again, I love the idea and concept of DJing. As well as producing music for imaginary DJs. Lately, as in the past 10+ years, I haven’t even performed in any sort of club spaces. So my relationship to the dancefloor is quite removed and reduced, but there’s quite a bit of passion and interest left.

All tracks composed and produced by Sasu Ripatti.
Artwork & photography by Marc Hohmann.
Mastering by Stephan Mathieu for Schwebung Mastering.
Vinyl cut by SST Brueggemann.
Publishing by WARP Music Ltd.

Ever-evolving the mythologies and magic of Dialect's sonic sphere, Andrew PM Hunt returns with Atlas of Green, elegantly molding unexacting details of memory and mistranslation into the framework of the British musician and composer's creative pursuit. The album imagines a young musician named Green working in a future dawning era where lost signals and enduring impulses are unearthed from the sediments of technology and time. Across twelve compositions, Green becomes the compass in an epoch of transition; one shaded with pastoral patinas and studded with the fragments of allegorical ruin. As tattered as it is tender, Atlas of Green is a patchwork of scavenged relics and bygone hues, cast through the iridescent shimmers of a mid-future in flux. Growing up on the Wirral Peninsula in North West England, Hunt was surrounded by stone age landmarks and rock carvings that infused the landscape with legend. It was beside those carvings on a residency at Bidston Artistic Research Center where he began the journey of Atlas of Green, experimenting with tape loops and exploring the center's library of sci-fi. Here Hunt also encountered the work of Italian philosopher Federico Campagna, a writer who believes we're at the end of our current world. This encouraged Hunt's exploration of how the fabric and fantasies of our current era might endure into the future of Green, as they try to make sense of the riddles of the past, utilizing broken electronics and simple acoustic instruments to create new mythic forms. This question of endurance led Hunt to inscribe Atlas of Green with its own lucid markings - sometimes almost anthemic adornments - which unfurl through the album's melancholic air as possible new metaphors for how the human spirit might persist through dark days and regain lost wisdom. As Hunt reflects, "We're not just on an endless procession through constantly better worlds. Our lack of action (on climate and inequality) feels hopeless at times. I find some comfort in the idea that maybe the world needs a new song in order to tell a new story about itself". The image of Green as a journeying adolescent in-between eras developed out of a burgeoning interest in the fantasy writing of Ursula K. Le Guin and Gene Wolfe and occurred at a point in Hunt's life where the question of starting a family was looming. Green became a device for thinking about the future, or futures, putting someone in another world and granting access to a slightly longer timeframe than one's own life. What would this person, in this as-yet-unsung world do with something as powerful as music? As Hunt notes, "I imagined them doing what we've always done with music - using it to build a map of feeling, providing boundaries and tracing the edges of our emotions, defining a space of possibility and giving voice to our intuition. This is an alternative future to the one of endless growth but one which still holds space for hopes and dreams." Mapping new folds in the passage of time, Atlas of Green is traced with an aura of sonic urgency which arises through its process-led construction. Following a series of live shows in early 2023, the record was created with an assemblage of analogue electronics and acoustic instruments, including scratched records and a broken four track, collaging studio work with recorded live recordings featuring work in progress. Where the indeterminate energies of Under~Between (2021) appeared through digital processing, Atlas of Green embraces chance encounters within the malfunctions of physical media and glitching gear. Within these interwoven clusters of organic and blemished sound, Dialect reclaims the joyfulness of the inner amateur and creates a soft landing for new seeds of magical possibility - rooted in the bounds and abundance of realism. "As a planet of people we have to deal one way or another with our finite existence. We have to deal with that loss with hope still in our hearts - our capacity to love cannot be contingent on things lasting forever, and so this image of Green is not a vision of dystopia, nor utopia but an expression of trust and an acceptance of limits."

Limited Edition of 1000 Opaque Pink 180 Gram Vinyl LP. Kiss Each Other Clean, Iron & Wine's fourth full length record was originally released in 2011 and came three years after his biggest selling record up to that point, The Shepherd's Dog. The bands two earlier albums had been sparse, intimate solo affairs that offered no hint of the direction he would take with records three and four. Like The Shepherd's Dog, Kiss Each Other Clean is layered with textures, poly-rhythmic sounds and a more is more approach. His lyrics sprung to life in ways initially unimaginable to early fans and critics helping each song tell its story and build to climaxes thru various sounds and editing techniques. However what remained at the core of KEOC, and what fans of the band had come to love, was the song writing and singing of principle songwriter Sam Beam. Beam's ability to invite you in with his hushed singing tone and knack for a melody remained front and center even in his drive to replicate something in the vein of Waits' Swordfishtormbones Principle recording for KEOC was at home in Dripping Springs, Texas where Beam resided at the time. After laying down the bulk of the record Beam moved recording to Chicago to work with Brian Deck. A cast of musicians helped Beam find his sound and see his vision for KEOC including Joe Adamik (Califone), Jim Becker (Califone), Thomas Bartlett (Doveman), Stuart Bogie (Antibalas), Rob Burger (Tin Hat Trio), Benny Massarella (Red Red Meat/Califone), Chad Taylor (Chicago Underground Duo) and Matt Lux (Isotope 217). With KEOC Beam and company brought in soft rock smoothness, dub reggae textures, and instruments that hadn't been featured on previous records. The vintage synths on 'Monkeys Uptown', the Stevie Wonder funk on 'Big Burned Hand,', the strum and drang of 'Walking Far From Home' all give the otherwise very organic-sounding arrangements a welcome cheesy kick. The record also produced the biggest radio single of the bands career with the vintage AM friendly vibes of 'Tree by the River.' It was an adventurous period in the career in Iron & Wine and one in which Beam was defying categorization.

For as much as Sammy Rae & The Friends may be a band, this collective of dreamers and artists considers themselves a family first. That all-for-one and one-for-all camaraderie ignites their unforgettable and can’t-miss live shows, which serve as a catharsis for both the musicians and their fervent audience. Fronted by singer/songwriter Sammy Rae and honed through years of touring, the group is capable of flourishing in any spotlight thanks to its signature blend of palpable chemistry, deft virtuosity, and vocal fireworks.

Their sound, which has attracted new fans by the thousands in the past few years, is a unique mélange of Sammy’s influences: classic rock, folk and funk and sprinkled with soul and jazz. Rae has been building toward this moment since moving to NYC from Connecticut in her early 20s. Finding herself without a built-in peer group, she simply built it herself: the literal and proverbial Friends. When she started playing shows, she made sure the audience was part of the family too. Everything that’s happened since, from the EPs The Good Life (2018) and Let’s Throw a Party (2021) to sold-out shows in major markets and secondary markets alike across North America and the UK & Europe, to high-profile festival sets around the world, including Bonnaroo’s main stage, Sound on Sound and more, has been based on friends telling friends. As they prepare for the release of their long-awaited debut full-length album in 2024, Something for Everybody, Sammy Rae & The Friends have come to represent more than just a band: they are a full-on movement being adopted with a refreshingly diverse clientele.

Pirates Press Records is proud to re-release Close My Eyes, the 2002 album by NYC ska-reggae legends The Slackers - a complex and nuanced album that shows the band's versatility and capacity for both commentary and introspection. It is often said - to the point of cliche - that New York City is a "character" in the work of the city's most noted filmmakers. A similar statement could be made about the artistic symbiosis between the city and The Slackers. From the Bronx-born accent of lead vocalist Vic Ruggiero to the band's embrace of cosmopolitan musical traditions from a melting pot of cultural origins, New York defines The Slackers at least as much as the band have contributed to defining the sound of New York for well over 30 years.Therefore, it bears mentioning that - aside from a 2002 collaborative album by "The Slackersand Friends" - Close My Eyesis the band's first proper studio LP released after the traumatic terrorist attacks on their home city in 2001, and the band took enough time to reckon with the global fallout of this tragedy. "So feel free go steal and rob, revolution ain't my job," sings Ruggiero on the title track. "And if I sing your happy song, please don't tell me I am wrong." It is the statement of an artist searching for a way to still sing about joy and life in uncertain times of great upheaval. And ultimately the band must reckon with these times. On "Real War," toaster Marq Lyn takes lead vocals as the band addresses the march to war that was omnipresent in those early days of the 21st century, stating in no uncertain terms that it was "Time to fight the real war_ Against hunger and poverty_ For racial equality." The Slackers make it clear that while the machinations of hawkish politicians grind on, the real needs of people all over the world are left behind. This tension between a dangerous world and the struggles of one's personal life are present throughout the record, and the band weaves stories from the whole spectrum of human emotion, war, heartbreak, joy, and everything in between. Bookended by instrumental tracks, opening with the energetic "Shankbon" and ending with moody dub reggae, these veteran virtuoso players ultimately take listeners on a masterful journey through the human experience.

Poet's Tooth - the band's second album for Kill Rock Stars - steers the duo's whimsical western- tinted quality into fascinating new directions: cinematic- pop balladry on the autoharp- tinged opener "Young & Free," gently clip- clopping Americana-folk on "Hard Hearted Way," and bass-driven funk on the wry "Eggs In One Basket." With help from producer Danny Reisch, Tele Novella have crafted their most genre-rich, poetic, and sincere album yet.

When we were offered the most welcome opportunity of choosing another “virgin” (as in never released on vinyl before) volume from the Dick’s Picks catalog, we did our Dead diligence, combing through the many chat rooms online to see which one the fans really wanted to see come out on LP. It will come as no surprise that opinions were varied and vehement…but a consensus emerged that Dick’s Picks Vol. 12—Providence Civic Center 6/26/74 & Boston Garden 6/28/74 was the one. Which is interesting, because that Pick is a little different, combining the second sets of two different nights instead of offering a single show. But it’s the exception that proves the rule—the playing is so extraordinary, and the repertoire so unusual, that one can understand why Dick Latvala played more curator than archivist here. Side A picks up the second set from Providence three songs in, featuring a short jam that leads into what many have labeled the most extraordinary live version of “China Cat Sunflower” ever recorded, complete with a sublime transition (“Mud Love Buddy Jam” a.k.a. “Mind Left Body Jam”) into “I Know You Rider.” The revelatory moments continue throughout the Providence set, highlighted by a dazzling, 15-minute “Spanish Jam.” But the second set of the Boston show—which appears here complete, after a superb encore performance of “Eyes of the World” from Providence—is the one that has passed into legend among Dead fans (a performance of Phil Lesh and Ned Lagin’s electronic music piece “Seastones” provides an appropriately adventurous interlude). The set boasts one of the most renowned live jams of the band’s career, a flawless, 14-minute “Weather Report Suite: Prelude/Pt. 1/Pt. 2-Let It Grow” leading into a 27-minute “Jam” that is simply one of the most far- ranging, telepathic improvisations ever played by, well, anybody. That this set also includes a separation of the “Sunshine Daydream” section from “Sugar Magnolia” for only the second time ever is just gravy. This is, of course, a “Wall of Sound” concert, so we’re working with something of a special audio source to begin with. So, we enlisted Jeffrey Norman to master the release for vinyl from the original tapes (pictured on the enclosed insert), and enlisted Clint Holley and Dave Polster over at Well Made Music to cut the lacquers. Gotta Groove Records, our manufacturer of choice, has pressed the 6 LPs on to 180-gram black vinyl housed inside a two-piece hardshell box, and we have a little stencil surprise for ya on Side L. Limited edition of 3000 hand- numbered copies!

As Tele Novella, Chronis (who performs in the beloved and rekindled indie pop band Voxtrot) and Ribbons (who previously performed in the long-running “Victorian punk” project Agent Ribbons) have spent their past two albums creating "Medieval outsider country" on 2016’s House Of Souls and 2021’s Merlynn Belle. Poet’s Tooth – the band’s second album for Kill Rock Stars – steers the duo’s whimsical western-tinted quality into fascinating new directions: cinematic-pop balladry on the autoharp-tinged opener “Young & Free,” gently clip-clopping Americana-folk on “Hard-Hearted Way,” and bass-driven funk on the wry “Eggs In One Basket.” With help from producer Danny Reisch, Tele Novella have crafted their most genre-rich, poetic, and sincere album yet.

OTOROKU is proud to reissue Evan Parker's first solo LP "Saxophone Solos". Recorded by Martin Davidson in 1975 at the Unity Theatre in London, at that time the preferred concert venue of the Musicians' Co-operative, Parker's densely woven and often cyclical style has yet to form; instead throaty murmurs appear under rough hewn whistles and calls - the wildly energetic beginnings of an extraordinary career. Reissued with liner notes from Seymour Wright in an edition of 500. "The four pieces across the two sides of Saxophone Solos - Aerobatics 1 to 4 - are testing, pressured, bronchial spectaculars of innovation and invention and determination. Evan tells four stories of exploration and imagination without much obvious precedent. Abstract Beckettian cliff-hanging detection/logic/magic/mystery. The conic vessel of the soprano saxophone here recorded contains the ur-protagonists: seeds, characters, settings, forces, conflicts, motions, for new ideas, to delve, to tap and to draw from it story after story as he has on solo record after record for 45 years. 'Aerobatics 1-3' were recorded on 17 June 1975, by Martin Davidson at Parker's first solo performance. This took place at London's Unity Theatre in Camden. 'Aerobatics 4' was recorded on 9 September the same year, by Jost Gebers in the then FMP studio in Charlottenburg, Berlin. Music of balance and gravity, fulcra, effort, poise and enquiry. Sounds thrown and shaken into and out of air, metal and wood. It is - as the titles suggest - spectacular." - Seymour Wright, 2020.

LIMITED INDIES LOSER EDITION PRESSED ON BLUE TRANSPARENT VINYL! Stella makes her Sub Pop debut with the mesmerizing Up and Away, an old-school pop paean to the pangs and raptures of love. From the Greek folk-inflected get-go, we're swept up in Stella's world - and it's quite the captivating place to be. The singer-songwriter joined forces with artist and producer Tom Calvert (aka Redinho), and it was a match made in Athens; the results are heavenly. Tom caught one of Stella's gigs on a visit to the city. He reached out, they started hanging out, and the pair soon clicked creatively. Both mention chemistry when asked about their collaboration and it's clear, from what we hear, they had it in spades. The meld is seamless. Stella's songs have always riffed on American and Greek mid-century pop but Up and Away doubles down on the vintage aesthetic. Tom says he styled the record "as if it was a rare gem from the '60s found in a box of records in Athens," and Stella notes she was ready for a more "deeply Greek touch - it felt comfortable and right, smoothly fusing with the pop." The bouzouki appears on a full five tracks played by Christos Skondras who, she says, "was brilliant at improvising," while Sofia Labropoulou on the kanun "brought an insane amount of dreaminess to the last two songs. Having these amazing musicians play for Up and Away - I couldn't be more grateful." While not exclusively a confessional artist, Stella is always intimate - when she sings, it's personal. She writes "about things I feel passion for. Stories about me, about others, about all that's there in love and war." Stella was "in a very emotional state at the time, which came through in the lyrics and vocals." And it's true, her honeyed voice - layered in those unmistakable harmonies of hers - thrillingly runs the gamut from tender to terse, by turns bracing and smitten, aching and forlorn. But it's the lyrics that feel key. Across her output, Stella has proven herself a strong storyteller, and Up and Away is no exception (the guise of the medieval bard she assumes on the cover is telling). Past releases have been studded with gem-like vignettes - a diverse array of stories set tightly together to form non-linear narratives unified by emotion. Her latest feels singular in that it seems to trace a longer-form tale across songs, with each track escalating the record's erotic arc. By the end of the album, Up and Away's core concerns are clear: the conflicting and conflicted emotions inherent in love, that live on in ways we can't always understand or control. Love is like this record: when it's over, you still feel it for time to come.

We're beyond excited to be announcing the next release on our Classic Cuts series, pertaining to none other Israeli duo, Red Axes. The Tel Aviv techno stalwarts are veterans of the scene, over the years honing an inimitable sound which draws on a unique concoction of influences ranging from post-punk and EBM to disco and new wave.

As is encapsulated in the title, Electric Bees EP focuses on constructing strange, uncanny worlds which at times are disorienting, spooky and hostile ('The Electric'); and at others transportive to times past. 'Next One Is Bill' and 'The Bee' combine the retro quality of squelchy, square wave acid synths with an uber-polished production value to see a modern take on the classic sound, whilst 'Axes In The Sky' sees the EP's energy climax. Set apart from the rest of the tracks with a BPM of 130 and distinctly contemporary feel, it gives you a whiplash tour around a myriad of sounds, taking sharp and unanticipated corners at each breakdown.

Eight years since the breathtaking Somewhere Anywhere EP, The Mad Walls return to re-ignite psych rock with this gorgeous, floatily heavy, effortlessly groovy and sublimely sinuous debut LP. Driven by bone shaking acoustic guitar, visceral drums, wonderfully trippy basslines and the throwaway perfection of Christopher Mercado’s spooked vocals. Pure rock n’ roll yet devoid of cliché. Informed by, but no way in hock to, early MC5, Skip Spence, Sonic Youth, Syd Barrett and Jefferson Airplane when they still all lived together.
Recorded on tape in Mercado’s garage, there’s a DIY heart with epic results across sixteen songs. Only one track over three minutes and some under thirty seconds. “It’s just chatter about life and human feelings. Stylized human expression”. - Is Christopher's self effacing explanation of his mind bending, playful, storytelling. It opens with the walloping drum canter/bass attack of WHO WANTS TO DIE FOR RELIGION. Passes through the furious distorted acoustic guitar solo on I TELL YOU HOW I FEEL. The woozy, elastic time-stretching of COOL TRIPPER. The brief, funky lurch of IN YOUR DREAM YOU ARE NO ONE. The almost lush, cinematic SEVEN DAYS which conjures Serge Gainsbourg by way of Moby Grape. HIP COMMA’s floaty strut and the groovy raga of MAKA THE NATIVE, which has not one but two ‘breath solos’. CLOUDS OF DUST is a skeletal Krautrock fragment and THERE ONLY IS a luminous psych-pop single. Final track APPLES ends the album with a sinewy twelve bar blues and a killer psych guitar break. Bliss.
Somehow the MAD WALLS manage woozily florid and sharp as a blade. Studiedly detailed but effortless. Whip smart and dumb. And as we said at the start - just gorgeous…

Eight years since the breathtaking Somewhere Anywhere EP, The Mad Walls return to re-ignite psych rock with this gorgeous, floatily heavy, effortlessly groovy and sublimely sinuous debut LP. Driven by bone shaking acoustic guitar, visceral drums, wonderfully trippy basslines and the throwaway perfection of Christopher Mercado’s spooked vocals. Pure rock n’ roll yet devoid of cliché. Informed by, but no way in hock to, early MC5, Skip Spence, Sonic Youth, Syd Barrett and Jefferson Airplane when they still all lived together.
Recorded on tape in Mercado’s garage, there’s a DIY heart with epic results across sixteen songs. Only one track over three minutes and some under thirty seconds. “It’s just chatter about life and human feelings. Stylized human expression”. - Is Christopher's self effacing explanation of his mind bending, playful, storytelling. It opens with the walloping drum canter/bass attack of WHO WANTS TO DIE FOR RELIGION. Passes through the furious distorted acoustic guitar solo on I TELL YOU HOW I FEEL. The woozy, elastic time-stretching of COOL TRIPPER. The brief, funky lurch of IN YOUR DREAM YOU ARE NO ONE. The almost lush, cinematic SEVEN DAYS which conjures Serge Gainsbourg by way of Moby Grape. HIP COMMA’s floaty strut and the groovy raga of MAKA THE NATIVE, which has not one but two ‘breath solos’. CLOUDS OF DUST is a skeletal Krautrock fragment and THERE ONLY IS a luminous psych-pop single. Final track APPLES ends the album with a sinewy twelve bar blues and a killer psych guitar break. Bliss.
Somehow the MAD WALLS manage woozily florid and sharp as a blade. Studiedly detailed but effortless. Whip smart and dumb. And as we said at the start - just gorgeous…

CRUDE’s second record release features one of the most promising artists from the underground music world - DJ RAT.

Hailing from the American Pacific Northwest, DJ RAT’s signature sound is characterised by an eccentric, distinguishing and uncompromising approach - seamlessly blending intense, arcane and mystical elements in order to create a captivating experience.
Side A kicks in with Nocturne, the EP’s leading track that guides the listener into a veil of mystery with its enigmatic melody and its pulsating basslines that gradually build intensity while maintaining an underlying sense of tranquillity.

Hexosphere’s rhythm is edgy and straightforward with a trippy nature.
There’s an ever-evolving dynamic throughout the four tracks, alternating between driving rhythms and moments of serene psychedelia - exploring the duality of light and dark and evoking a feeling of introspection.

The B-side takes off with Corridor, an oscillating tension-builder.
Corridor’s distorted synths and glitchy effects cascade over pounding drums, creating a chaotic yet mesmerising soundscape.
Telepathic Climax weaves in and out with shimmering and alluring shifts that add depth and dimension to the track.

Atmospheric and trippy textures create a sense of space and immersion throughout the journey of the EP - with illuminating elements piercing through the darkness.

Bergen, Norway- Blood Command have announced their new studio album, "World Domination"(Produced by Yngve Andersen) to be released on the 29th September 2023 through Hassle and Loyal Blood Records. Alongside the announcement is the third and title track single, another self-proclaimed "loser anthem, that tells the sad story of never being good enough for the person of your dreams"

Whilst early singles have cradled audiences with their ethereal death pop sound, make no mistake, the album "World Domination" is 20 rapid bursts of every side the band has to offer. Infectious grooves, blast beats, singer Nikki Brumen’s powerful screams and riot grrrl chanting, techno interludes and that delicate side which lulls you into a false sense of security before ripping into the listener once more.

The record dives into unrequited love, the hatred of the unjust, the power of faith and the darkness of the abyss and never giving up on trying to climb out of it.

"Like various underground religious groups throughout history, Blood Command’s ever growing following, The Awaketeam, is rising around the globe, and we are not stopping until World Domination. So keep your eyes peeled for purple shrouds, three stripes and black and white sneakers."

This is Blood Command at its most interesting. Come and be a part of the movement.

Dinah Washington had one of the most distinctive and versatile voices in music. Washington could sell an R&B stomp just as well as she could interpret a torch song, and she could hold her own in the company of Jazz trumpet genius Clifford Brown and Bebop drum pioneer Max Roach. Her records, made for Mercury Records and the company’s Jazz offshoot EmArcy Records in the US appeared in the UK through Oriole and then EMI. Notably, the 1959 album release of What a Diff'rence A Day Makes featured the classics Cry Me A River, Manhattan, A Sunday Kind Of Love, Time After Time and What a Diff'rence A Day Makes. During the same year she visited the UK performing at the Bath Jazz Festival and recording an appearance for Granada Television’s The Variety Show. Washington’s discs regularly featured on BBC radio, but despite this, her only UK chart single came in November 1962 when September in the Rain reached number 35 from the album of the same title. Also taken from September Rain and featured on this LP is the popular Jazz standard composed by McHugh and Gaskill I Can't Believe That You're In Love With Me...