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Rick James Blends Brazen Attitude, Fearless Sexuality, and Shrewd Charisma on Street Songs:

Punk-Funk Album Aims for the Hips and Head, Includes the Timeless Hit “Super Freak”
Sourced from the Original Master Tapes and Strictly Limited to 4,000 Numbered Copies:

Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 45RPM 2LP Set Presents 1981 Smash in Audiophile Sound for the First Time
1/4” / 30 IPS analogue master to DSD 256 to analogue console to lathe


“Punk funk” was a relatively unknown concept before 1981. But once Street Songs took the charts by storm that year, the world soon knew about what became Rick James’ signature style. And how. True to its name, Street Songs blends outspoken sexuality, brazen attitude, and edgy commentary amid contagious R&B-fueled arrangements that simultaneously aim for the hips, head, and various nether regions. And it’s never sounded better.

Sourced from the original master tapes, strictly limited to 4,000 numbered copies, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing, and housed in a Stoughton gatefold jacket, Mobile Fidelity’s 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents James’ platinum-certified effort in audiophile quality for the first time. Playing with crisp dynamics, lively textures, airy headroom, and revealing clarity, this collectible edition of the record that stayed at the No. 1 spot on the R&B Album Charts for 20 weeks invites you to get closer to music that beckons you to turn your space into a private dance floor.

Then again, you’ll likely be so taken by how the taut bass lines, snappy rhythms, and four-on-the-floor beats — all rendered in stunning detail and with full-bodied architecture — come across with such accuracy and presence, you might stay pinned to your seat. On this pressing, the soundstaging, imaging, and lit-fuse energy of Street Songs reach new heights. Everything from the rubbery feel of the guitar lines to the depth of James’ temperature-raising vocals to the scale of the horn charts emerges as if James and his ace session crew set up in your room.

The Buffalo native and his ensemble waste no time getting their message across. On the album-opening “Give It to Me Baby,” James and company lay down a mix of sleek funk and pulsing disco that practically activates the bright lights of a discotheque and stimulates the libido of anyone within earshot. Having reached No. 1 on the Billboard Hot Soul charts, the song is pure sex — and just one of the carnal delights on a record that embraces the subject as fearlessly as James does his identity.

Of course, the most famous of James’ erotic excursions — the timeless “Super Freak” — hit No. 1 on Hot Dance Club Play charts, No. 16 on the Hot 100, and, later, No. 153 on Rolling Stone’s list of the Top 500 Songs of All Time. Bolstered by a quavering keyboard theme and electro riffs, the much-sampled track worms itself inside your muscles with smile-inducing subject matter, gliding vocals, nimble movements, a hot tenor-saxophone solo, and backing vocals by the Temptations.

The iconic Motown group isn’t the only celebrated guest artist on the Grammy-nominated Street Songs. James’ then-labelmate, Stevie Wonder, lends harmonica to the frank sociopolitical narrative on “Mr. Policeman,” a protest tune that also manages to stroll ’n’ strut via simmering organ, staggering brass accents, and James’ gritty vocal performance. In addition to contributing backing vocals on several cuts, Teena Marie turns in one of the album’s signature moments on “Fire and Desire,” a romantic old-school duet with James that impresses with smoothness, sensitivity, and smokiness.

High-profile colleagues aside, James remains the undisputed star, a figure whose leather-and-latex attire, braided hair, and natural swagger made him misunderstood by some in the mainstream and embraced by everyone in the know as a true original. As a testament to his magnetism and skills, his charisma and rawness seemingly seep through every note, whether on the balladic sweep of the risqué “Make Love to Me” or strident, poke-and-prod persuasion of the moonwalking “Call Me Up.”

On the closing “Below the Funk (Pass the J),” an uptempo autobiographical tale that addresses the visionary musician’s second-favorite love, the singer acknowledges his upbringing and inseparable connection with his roots — an homage to where he began and a toast to where he’s gone.

Rick James, keepin’ it real on Street Songs, still as real as it gets.

French artist Trypheme debuts on Impatience with “Odd Balade”, a darkly-hued collection of songs drawn from human delicacy and dreamworld mythology.

“Odd Balade” is Trypheme’s most ambitious and boldest record to date - both lyrically and musically. The album’s thirteen tracks resist rigid genre boundaries and flutter from medieval folk realms, sprawling synths, gothic 80s wave, leftfield pop, haunted vocals, mutant electronica to reverbed guitars - all reflected through her own shadowy prism. Especially album closer “A Walk In The Vercors” evokes a soothing serenity that echoes the sonic balm of Julee Cruise.

Trypheme’s musical repertoire trends heavily electronic and somewhat abstracted, but on “Odd Balade”, the artist slips into the role of the modern troubadour with a shift to a more poetically and personal songwriting that is infused with symbolism and dreamlike fantasies. The connective tissue of the album is the audacity to love and the vulnerability that ensues. As intimate and introspective as the lyrics are, the themes remain universal and human to the core: the fear of losing a loved one, the melancholia of leaving places and t“the fear of losing a loved one, the melancholia of leaving places and the cycles of life. The record was largely composed in Chars, stirred by the French village’s eerie atmosphere and frequent trips to the seaside in Brittany, where Trypheme resides. Drawing inspiration from the rugged terrain of the seaside landscapes, the writings of Allen Ginsberg and Mark Fisher and the hyperrealist art of Scott Prior, Trypheme uses her songs to depict life with broad strokes of rhythm.

On “Odd Balade” Trypheme consolidates herself as a gifted, nimble songwriter, masterly producer and subtly powerful vocalist. The record combines her skill for crafting lush, alien sound worlds and efficient, alluring arrangements with stealthily devastating songs. Belin’s voice becomes a key ingredient, appearing on eleven of Odd Balade’s thirteen tracks, by turns heavily manipulated, sampled and replayed as a form of percussion, or basically bare.

“Odd Balade” is the manifestation of Trypheme’s roving artistic practice, a ceremonial-grade sacrament cast in a rich nocturnal glow. Pairing the mundane with the mythic, the album stays true to its core: odd and strangely familiar.

RIYL - Riding off into the sunset to an unknown destination, hauntology, present, tales told by the fireside, hot summer rain, adventures, to feel a warm presence when you are walking in the forest or in the mountain, coastal landscapes, sailor’s stories, slow motion, vitesse, heavy blossoms, colors, the warmth of the sun, the tenderness of the moon, getting lost in unfamiliar streets, city’s lights, motorway rest area by night, magic numbers, rendez-vous, picnic, serendipity, poetry, the smell of old records and old books.

Tiphaine Belin has been releasing music as Trypheme since 2016. Odd Balade was written and produced by Belin, and mixed by Belin and Abel Roux. It was mastered by Amir Shoat. Cover art photography is by Ariane Kiks, with art direction by Ariane Kiks in collaboration with Mathilde Chaize.

With their upcoming sixth studio album, “What A Time To Be Alive” , The Lone Bellow embarks on a bold new chapter while honoring the deep bonds that have defined their journey. Written collaboratively for the first time with their full touring band—founding members Zach Williams, Brian Elmquist, and Kanene Pipkin joined by drummer Julian Dorio and multi-instrumentalist Tyler Geertsma—the album channels the raw, ecstatic energy of the band’s live show into a dynamic collection of songs that pulse with warmth, honesty, and human connection. Recorded live in Muscle Shoals, AL, after a writing retreat in a converted Kentucky firehouse, the album is both a celebration and a reckoning: of friendship, loss, love, and resilience. From the gritty, Stones-tinged opener “After The Rain” to the soul-stirring closer “What A Time To Be Alive,” the record captures the joy and vulnerability that have long defined The Lone Bellow’s sound—lush harmonies, heartfelt lyrics, and genre-blurring arrangements steeped in folk, rock, and gospel. The album’s creation was marked by setbacks, including the theft of early recordings, but the outpouring of support from their fanbase reaffirmed what the band has always known: their music is a shared experience. That spirit echoes throughout the album, whether in anthems like “Common Folk” and “I’m Here For You,” or in intimate reflections like “You Were Leaving” and “Night Goes Black.” Since their acclaimed 2013 debut, The Lone Bellow has appeared on The Tonight Show, Austin City Limits, and The Late Show, topped Americana charts, and headlined storied venues from Carnegie Hall to the Ryman Auditorium. But with their next album, they reaffirm their commitment not just to making music, but to building community—on stage, in song, and around the table.

Adventure's self-titled 2000 debut is finally getting the reissue treatment, remastered by Jacob Holm-Lupo. This album got great reviews at the time, and helped kickstart a new Norwegian prog scene. The music was inspired by bands like Kansas, Uriah Heep and Camel, with an added touch of folk music. ADVENTURE is the brainchild of the Norwegian multi-instrumentalist Odd Roar Bakken, who had 23 years of experience in Rock bands playing guitars & mandolins, and singing in bands like Tammatoys and Nordagust until 1990, when he met Nils Larsen, Torkel Aune and eventually the talented guitar player Terje Flessen. They started working together, each time getting closer to the Symphonic sound they aimed for But they still had a hard time finding a singer that could fit their style - until 1995 when they finally met Verbjorn Moen. They soon started work on their self-produced and self-released, self-titled debut album, a process lasting all the way until November 1999, with a release in the year 2000. The album is a great expression of Symphonic Prog - inspired mostly by Camel, but with an added hard rock influence from bands as Ayreon and Uriah Heep. The lineup of their debut album is consists of Odd-Roar Bakken (Keyboards, Acoustic Guitar, Mandolin, Lead Guitar and Backing Vocals), Terje Flessen (Lead Guitars, Rhythm Guitars, Acoustic Guitars and Bass Guitars), Vebjorn Moen (Lead Vocals and Backing Vocals) with some guests like Elisabeth Nilssen and Stine Mostervik on flute and Stein Egil Bratland on drums and backing vocals. ADVENTURE is a rare example of a band that didn't played Progressive Rock by nature: They set out to perform music in the vein of the classic symphonic prog genre - but adding some Norwegian Hard Rock, inspired by the Byron & Thain Uriah Heep line-up, something entirely different manifested itself.

Roughly three years after the release of Balts, Schreel Van De Velde’s debut album on Blickwinkel, the guitar and drums improv-centered duo is happy to present their sophomore album A One And A Two.

The Brussels-based musicians sound more decisive than ever: the loud became louder, the quiet became quieter, the weird became weirder and the nostalgic became more nostalgic. The fruit peeled off one of its own shells, getting closer to its heart.

The album came about as a result of 2 separate studio sessions. For a first one, they restricted themself to solely electric guitar and drums, without overdubs, and with most songs ending up as one-takers. A second one took place some months later in a different recording space, using classical guitar with a matching small, cute drum set-up.

On both sessions, the duo played the same compositions, with some additional improvisations. Afterwards they made a blend of both sessions, mixing both energies: A One And A Two. A new language, organic and well-considered, was found.

Throughout the album, touches of minimalism, American primitivism, free-improv, and 90s indie rock can be found, but always within the limits of Schreel Van De Veldes freshly found voice: one that combines sentiment and cerebrality, overview, playfulness and mystery.

Lucas Schreel is a classically trained guitarist based in Brussels. His first solo album We're Never Afraid of Getting Up Every Morning was released through Sentimental Records in 2019 and was well-received both in written-press (Humo, Enola & Indiestyle) and radio (Duyster, Radio 1 & Klara). Besides his solo work, Schreel is also a member of the lo-fi indierockband Kloothommel.
Acclaimed Brussels percussionist Casper Van De Velde made quite a name for himself through his bands like SCHNTZL, Bombataz, Donder among others. His work received prices at International Jazz Contest d’Avignon and Storm! Contest (Jazzlab). Casper is currently also a member of the recently formed An Pierlé Quartet.

Inhale. Exhale. Remember to breathe. In that rhythm lies the pulse of being - the ancient echo of stars from which we are made. Breathing is the bridge between the inner cosmos and the outer void. When you breathe, you testify to existence itself: "I am." The Moonrover - a child of reason - abandoned on the cold, dead Moon. It does not feel time, know fear, or comprehend solitude. But a human, in its place, would understand: Silence is not emptiness. It is a mirror. And in that mirror arises the question: "If I am alone, and silence is infinite - who hears my breath?" The answer lies in the breath. Each inhale is resistance against entropy. Each exhale is an act of remembrance. To breathe is to remember that you are not just part of the Universe - you are its awakened part. And just as the Moonrover crawls across grey lunar plains, driven by an unknown purpose, so do you move through life, led by an inner light, until you realize: breath is not just life. It is a prayer sent into silence. And if you can hear it - you are alive.

The anticipation is there in Elizabeth Stokes’ solo guitar riff under the opening lines of “I’m Not Getting Excited”: a frenetic, driving force daring a packed Auckland Town Hall to do exactly the opposite of what the track title suggests.

As the opener of The Beths’ Auckland, New Zealand, 2020 expands to include the full band, the crowd screeches and bellows. It’s a collective exhalation, in one of the few countries where live music is still possible.

The album title, and film of the same name, deliberately include the date and location, lead guitarist Jonathan Pearce says. “That’s the sensational part of what we actually did.” In a mid-pandemic world, playing to a heaving, enraptured home crowd feels miraculous.

In March 2020, everything seemed on track for another huge year for The Beths. Home after an 18-month northern hemisphere tour, they had just finished recording sophomore album Jump Rope Gazers and were primed for more extensive touring. But within days, New Zealand’s lockdown split the band between three separate houses. All touring was cancelled.

“It was existentially bad,” Stokes says. As well as worrying about economic survival, they lost something crucial to the band’s identity: live performance. “It's a huge part of how we see ourselves... What does it mean, if we can't play live?”

The band found an outlet through live-streaming, returning to the do-it-yourself mentality of their early days to connect with a global audience. The album and film have their genesis in that urge to share the now-rare experience of a live show, as widely as possible.

The fuzzy-round-the-edges live-streams pointed the way aesthetically. Native birds, wonkily crafted by the band from tissue paper and wire, festoon the venue’s cavernous ceiling while house plants soften and disguise the imposing pipes of an organ. The presence of the film crew isn’t disguised: much of the camerawork is handheld; full of fast zooms and pans.

With much of the material still fresh, the band was less focused on re-invention than playing “a good, fast rock show”, Pearce says. The tempo is up on crowd favourites “Whatever” and “Future Me Hates Me” (released as a live single on its third anniversary) as both band and audience feed off the mutual energy in the room.

Certain songs have taken on special resonance post-Covid. Pearce has found “Out Of Sight”, a tender rumination on long-distance relationships, hits particularly hard with live audiences.

Album closer “River Run” visibly brings Stokes to tears as a mix of achievement and relief kicks in. “You can finally relax at that point … You play the last note, breathe out a sigh and look up - and you’re in a giant room full of people happy and smiling.”

Sticking a dirty thumb in the eye of fate, our third collaboration sees this marrow deep family malarky turn official as Pace Yourself teams up with YS’s own imprint ERF REC for a split release. As if our status as minor celebrities and footnotes of the underground could level off no further: the unification no one asked for is here. Sticking it to the man, handing your arse to ya on plate; cauterising infected suburban minds world over.

Burn is the second YS album and written as a direct follow-up album to Brutal Flowers. If their first album was an exercise in the incremental, a construction of poise and patience, Burn, should be taken way the fuck at it’s word: it quite literally finds catharsis in twisted reverse. Birthed out the malignant kick found in deconstruction and chaos. Evil twin, psychotic younger sibling, call it what the hell you like. It might take you a moment to get the lay of the land in this darkly mutated world. Like a bug eye’d native first confronted with a zippo, the hit is radical and instant: a new way for the world to go up in smoke.

Splice the Seattle slacker scene with the spliffhead soundsystem culture of the 90s Bristol trip-hop scene, then cross-breed that with the DIY optimism and glee in creation found in the cut-and-paste worlds of skate, graffiti and hiphop, now run that through the skitzo basement mind of John.T. Gast and you’re close to the kind of scorched earth and spiked suburbia that birthed Burn.

Dunno quite what YS have been ingesting of late but this massively twisted LP touches on a host of gloriously fucked totemic underground sources while not sounding much like any of them. It has the ballsy swagger and hard flipping of the script as Massive Attack’s seminal Blue Lines. Indeed, the eponymous album tracks sound similar - the opener ‘Burn’ is like a hard nosed jammed out redux of ‘Blue Lines’. Getting into a kind of slow-spinning overdubbed maximal euphoria ending with mumbled downer vocals, struggling to conceal their tongues in their cheeks there’s an air of paranoia and proto-conspiracy theory. It’ll leave you scratching your head, feeling like you’ve stepped into a New World Order governed by a cacophony of drop outs, dope fiends and apocalyptic stoners. A cracked out world somewhere between Richard Linklater’s movie Slacker (1990) and Marc Singer’s Dark Days (2001).

The rest of the album parts like a tongue on a wine glass: Smith and Mighty, Bandulu, ambient Luke Slater records, Wah Wah Wino, Nurse with Wound, Land of the Loops, Placid Angels, Adrian Sherwood, Urban Tribe and DJ Shadow can all be heard in momentary splatters - but Burn like other works by YS, is its own ritual beast. ‘Moth’, a track which has been knocking about the underground deejai circuit for many moons, is a real raw chopped and screwed slice of stoner erotica that reeks of obsession and unrequited desire. Elsewhere, on tracks like ‘Switch’, ‘Trying’ and ‘Drift’ the throughline from Brutal Flowers can be heard. Underneath the driving heavy gravity the trademark emotional intimacies of YS linger: eternal recurrence, ghosts of static and shortwave, worn memories of the playful and painful sort. The brief moments where flashes of orchestral ambience get out from underneath the swagger are so pure, personal and unguarded that for a moment they leave you completely lonesome. In the album’s closer ‘End’, you can hear the fleeting promise and DIY possibilities of an analogue world and embers of ash that flutter in its wake: where it seemed, for a brief moment, that collective of DJs, engineers, rappers, graffiti artists and skate crews were emerging from the streets, giving the middle fingers to the system, before just as quickly disappearing back to the doldrums of obscurity. ‘End’ is a bittersweet ode to early soundsystem culture, MCs and pirate radio - an out of step time where for a moment the underdogs and weirdos seemed to be kicking on the door of something bigger.

A veritable teenage doof suite dosed with desire, claustrophobia and deviance. Burn is a good old howl at the moon: lonely, raw, and out for blood; basement style exegesis at its best. A thump to the gut, a stud through your blood. A dubbed-to-death classic straight out of the annals of nowhere. A perfect post card from oblivion. A bleak, bold and personally ferocious vision of tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.

This is everything that record collectors skip dates for. Fuck the scene and keep that shit underground. That’s what it is all about. Know what I mean, if you do? You’re in…

‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is the latest collection selected by Mikey Young (Total Control, EddyCurrent Suppression Ring) and Keith Abrahamsson (Founder and Head of A&R at AnthologyRecordings), the mangled minds behind the beloved ‘Follow the Sun’, ‘Sad About the Times’,and ‘…Still Sad’ compilations. The twenty tracks of ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ make a conscious(and unconscious) detour from its predecessors, sourced entirely from private press releases,spanning new decades and production modes within homespun folk, soft rock and otherwise70s and 80s FM radio adjacent music.  The magic of ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is the untold story of the artists behind these songs; thosewho missed the big time, but whose song craft and unrequited care hit the right notes, bothhigh and low.
Where ‘Follow the Sun’ and ‘Sad About the Times’ introduced us to the fame chasing, ambitioncrashing crooners who missed their shot in the mainstream, ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ delvesdeeper into the isolated wilds - a private world where production quirks, late-night tape hiss andone-man studio dreams were not necessarily a choice but the hand that was dealt.
With the parameters set to ‘private press only’, Young and Abrahamsson follow a circuitous trailof invention and emotion, documenting a spirit that’s more homespun, sometimes lonelier andoften a little weirder. The guitars still strum, but the keyboards’ hum is more prevalent andprecious; wistful harmonies brush up against lo-fi drum machines; a bittersweet fog lingeringover even the brightest melodies.
As with their previous collaborations, Young and Abrahamsson weren’t interested inconstructing a museum or drafting a historical survey. ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ is a sentimentalmixtape, assembled late at night when the mind wanders and old memories blur with imaginedfutures, those within reach and those far too mysterious to ever encounter. Songs wereunearthed in personal collections, deep YouTube burrows, dilapidated web archives and thedim corners of Discogs, with many selections tied not only to intuition but to personalconnection.  Some tracks arrived via friends - Kelley Stoltz, a frequent guide for Young, tipped him off toboth Peter Kraemer’s lost gem ‘Let the Light Slip’ and Awakening’s revelatory closer - addingan unseen but deeply felt thread of camaraderie to the compilation.
The journey takes in a wide, strange sweep: The Watson Brothers Band’s ‘Just Whistle’ opensthe collection with a sigh and a shrug, a song that feels like it’s been waiting for decades to beheard again. Jim Huxley’s ‘Tessa on a Magazine’, rediscovered after a long and winding searchby Young, shimmers with a distinctly Australian melancholia. The heartbreak of Rick Penta’s‘My Story Changes’ and Twice As Nice’s delicate ‘Thoughts of You’ float easily alongside themore buoyant, radio-dream sheen of Barracuda’s ‘Baby I Love You’ and MAK’s sunshinedappled ‘That’s Life’.
Widening the aperture to the late 1970s and early 1980s allows for a deeper exploration intoevolving production techniques and musical technologies. The Squad’s ‘D.L.M.H.I.M.A.’ andChristoph Spendel Group’s ‘Forever’ crackle with the kind of bedroom synth warmth that couldonly come from the analogue age, while the soulful, yearning undercurrent of Awakening’s‘Gotta Do Somethin / Might As Well Cultivate’ caps the collection with a call for action - ormaybe just acceptance - in an accidental Brian Eno ‘Here Come the Warm Jets’ parroting.
While ‘Maybe I’m Dreaming’ moves away from the ‘sad man with guitar’ archetype that hoveredover its predecessors, it remains tethered to a familiar emotional gravity - a balance of longingand lightness that defines this corner of the musical universe. Each track shuffles gentlybetween resignation and hope, sadness and serenity, as if the artists themselves were chasinga dream just beyond reach, recording not for fame but for the simple act of getting it, thatprimal, creative itch, out into the world.
Available on CD and 2LP, featuring the third eye-opening artwork of Dang Wayne Olsen. Thedouble LP set arrives in an outrageous double-wide spine jacket with printed inners and adream journal entry by Pacific Northwest artifactual authority Josh Lewellen.

Mainstays of the D.C. DIY scene, Pretty Bitter live up to their name. Masters of all kinds of dissonance, they juxtapose stories of haunting and heartbreak with dazzling pop-rock arrangements. Pretty Bitter makes music that gets the emo kids dancing. They’re unafraid to infuse their blistering breakdowns with hits of disco and synthpop—and that’s exactly what they’ve done on Pleaser, their sophomore album, co-produced by Evan Weiss (Into It. Over It., Pet Symmetry) and Simon Small (Strawberry Boy) and out July 25th, 2025 via cult favorite indie label Tiny Engines. Following a string of ethereal singles, their 2022 debut Hinges formally introduced Pretty Bitter and their dreampunk to a rapidly growing audience. Fearlessly led by Mel Bleker and sharing studio and touring members with D.C. punk all-stars Ekko Astral, Pretty Bitter has been embraced by DIY fans far and wide. On Pleaser, Pretty Bitter have amped up the drama of their lush arrangements—a match made in heaven for the emotional ferocity of Bleker’s lyricism. “If everything is out there, nothing’s embarrassing,” they sigh on “I Hope You Do,” expertly toeing the line between the personal and the universal over bright, bubbling synths. On the arresting closer “Outer Heaven,” Bleker sings “Time isn’t a lover in the way it likes to play / I’m getting older, every due I pay / Time isn’t a bandage in the way you always say / I won’t be abandoned by myself again this way.” Their observational, heart-on-sleeve songwriting is as effortless as their flittering between the jangly, dreamy inclinations of rock, pop, and folk. Pleaser is a triumph, an instantly lovable record that reveals just how bright Pretty Bitter’s future is.

José James just can’t leave the ’70s alone. Or maybe it’s the other way around. The singer, songwriter, bandleader, and producer was born in 1978, after all, but over his past 17 years of fundamentally forward-looking, blessedly mercurial music, he keeps getting pulled back in. His 2013 Blue Note breakthrough No Beginning No End revisited the hooky, funky, jazz-streaked songcraft of the time through a modern crate-digger’s ears. On 2020’s No Beginning No End 2 — James’ debut on his own Rainbow Blonde Records — he went back through the portal with a small army of fellow celebrated eclecticists. Just last year, there was the album 1978, a richly layered love letter to said year that felt deep, luxe, and cool. It’s as if — vested with the restless fluidity of jazz, the tuned-in sensitivity of soul, and the revisionist grit of hip-hop — he is trying to play his way into the exact moment when, culturally speaking, everything was about to change.

“I'm still so fascinated by the tension in that era of all these seemingly clashing things happening at once,” says James. “The loft scene, the jazz scene, Elton and Billy, Bob Marley, the Isleys, Funkadelic, disco being this behemoth in a way I don't think we even understand today… And then there’s where everybody went from there — into hip-hop, into punk rock, exploding jazz. It's like a summation of the ’70s, and it's about to transform. It's the peak of the rollercoaster.”

Literally breaking into history is impossible, of course, but James’ new LP, 1978: Revenge of the Dragon, does feel like breaking through or bursting out. In loving contrast to its predecessor, the fresh set plays hot, like a Friday night out at the Mudd Club in its prime. Though he’s dreamt up albums with collaborator counts approaching the dozens, James gathered a tight crew for this one. Himself and Taali on vocals. BIGYUKI on keys and analog synth. Jharis Yokley on drums. Bass split between David Ginyard (Blood Orange, Terence Blanchard) and Kyle Miles (Michelle Ndgeocello, Nick Hakim). And an all-star brass lineup: Takuya Kuroda on trumpet, young lion Ebban Dorsey on alto sax, and genre-spanning ronin Ben Wendel on tenor sax. They set up in Dreamland Studios near Woodstock, a restored 19th century church, and recorded live to tape, two tracks, drums pushed to the max — “a small homage to the rise of punk,” says James.

In that place out of time, the band laid down a handful of choice covers and some wild originals, like the single “They Sleep, We Grind (for Badu),” a decades-collapsing cut powered by an ugly groove. Steeped in dub, funk, and sampledelia, James chants an artists’ mantra (“They sleep, we grind / Man, f--- your nine to five”), makes lyrical callouts to Marley and Nas, and channels everything from George Clinton to J Dilla, not to mention the earthy mysticism of Erykah Badu. In 2023, James released and toured his Badu covers LP, On & On. “Living in her musical house for a year was transformative,” he says. “This is my summary of everything I learned through her, tying it to this idea that artists move differently. We are in society but we are outside, too, looking out and in at the same time. Our hours are different, our schedules are different.”

To that point, James and co. actually began each day in the woods, filming the album’s visual companion piece, Revenge of the Dragon, an honest-to-God kung-fu short complete with bad overdubs, training montages, camera tricks, and plot twists. The film pays tribute not only to the genre’s greatest year (1978, of course), but also its cinematic exchange with Blaxploitation, plus James’ own recent Shaolin training and admiration for Bruce Lee as a culture-bridging force (the LP’s cover recreates an iconic shot of Lee). On top of that, says James, “We had this immediacy in the studio. Live, one take, no overdubbing. I feel like that's where the martial arts piece comes in, where it's about being relaxed but also aware, and there's immediacy in your movements.”

Across the project, tribute takes that refracted, multifaceted form. From his personal late-’70s playlist, James chose four covers reflecting the era’s disco-fied churn: the MJ-meets-Quincy dancefloor masterpiece “Rock With You”; Herbie Hancock’s prescient vocoder fever dream, “I Thought It Was You”; and a pair of Black-radio hits from two bands whose fans typically wouldn’t have been caught dead in the same stadium: “Miss You” by the Rolling Stones and the Bee Gees’ “Inside and Out.” All of it gets filtered through a contemporary Black (and beyond) lens, coming out loud, free, funky, and buzzing — dynamic, yes, but also of a joyous piece.

1978: Revenge of the Dragon transports you to a crowded room where all this is playing out in real time. That feeling is helped out by opener “Tokyo Daydream,” a bass-driven swan dive into a neverending night of boutique bar-hopping and neon revelry. Later, “Rise of the Tiger” finds James bringing rare braggadocio to a propulsive track with growling synth lines and a hunger for whatever comes next. And then there’s the closer, “Last Call at the Mudd Club,” which with its upbeat energy and string of Stevie-inspired pickup lines, evokes the sort of unabashedly elated track the DJ throws on at 3:56 a.m. before everyone is kicked out. “I wanted to leave the album on that note,” says James. “If this was a night out in New York, this would be the last thing you hear before you get in that taxi and go back to your apartment.” Or, perhaps, back to 2025.

The iconic Hôtel Costes music collection, a veritable benchmark of Parisian luxury and refinement, continues to captivate lovers of sophisticated sounds. Famous for its unique blends of warm vocals, funk, jazzy and pop grooves, fusing electronic sounds and acoustic instruments, this series is a must for connoisseurs of refined music.



This eighth volume, orchestrated by the talented Stéphane Pompougnac, offers light electro soul and racy house, perfect for livening up the most elegant evenings and keeping the most reluctant dancing until the wee hours. The Hôtel Costes series has revealed exceptional talents such as Pink Martini, Flight Facilities, General Elektriks, Angus & Julia Stone and Brigitte, while mixing hidden nuggets with masters such as Gotan Project, Femi Kuti, Trentemøller, Thievery Corporation, Shirley Bassey and Grace Jones.



With over 5 million copies sold worldwide, following the resounding success of the reissue of the first six volumes, this eighth opus is finally available for the first time on vinyl. A true gem that will delight long-time fans and appeal to a new generation of listeners worldwide.

The Crystal Hum is the debut vinyl release by Taiwan-based artist Yuching Huang and her first release for Night School.
A beguiling dreamscape of crackles, spluttering, love-struck Casios presided over by the the spectral vocal and guitar work of Huang, Yuching sings love songs at the end of this world and the beginning of the next. Recorded during a hiatus from her group Aemong (a duo with artist Henrique Uba) in Berlin, these songs elevate Huang’s unique vocal style and grasp of atmospherics. The Crystal Hum deconstructs balladry, Garage, guitar music and reforms it into a
unified ghostly otherworld version of these languages.

The Crystal Hum thrums with buried desire, trails of nocturnal reverb seeping out of apartment windows, diaristic vocal performances and deeply emotive, evocative Western-style strings. Formulated by Yuching Huang after periods of frustration and experimentation, the album is an exercise in minimalism and paring back, with some tracks like JohnJohn featuring little else than an elastic bass, spring reverb trails, an interjecting vocal and swelling, dislocated synths. The effect is spellbinding, the soundtrack to getting lost in the labyrinthine, closed streets of Venice, Taipei, Hong Kong, or mirror versions of them in the imagination.

On opener Fly! Little Black Thing, a subterranean funk bassline roots Huang’s singing, a rudimentary, unreliable beat floundering in whimsy underneath. Demure, dream Dance music, Huang references classic lo fi experimenters Suicide and Arthur Russell as well as Night School label mates The Space Lady and Ela Orleans. In fact, after the release of Aemong’s third album Crimson, Huang credits the direction of The Crystal Hum to being enchanted by The Space Lady’s Greatest Hits,
the landmark lo-fi recording made by Susan Dietrich Schneider in 1990. The new, minimalist approach to her sound world reveals and shrouds in equal measure. On the heart-melter Love, a sultry mid-tempo Casio + bass backing drops into the ether with Huang’s vocal swimming in preternatural void before emerging anew, in awe at the world. Every chord change heralds new perspectives, every guitar flurry swells and drips emotion, nothing is wasted and space billows out from between the grooves.
Huang never reveals more than necessary, making this an in-between love album: the right amount of mystery and darkened mirror shines wanely on The Crystal Hum while remaining fragile and vulnerable in the sweet spots. Turning over in pillowing smoke and night in the dark corners, Huang sings in both Mandarin and English. The songs speak of earthly matters seemingly at the edge of dissipating into nothing. Distorted, beguiling Sambas warble like sweating dancehalls in an imagined Lynchian 60s, as on Thoughts. Closer You, An Illusion warps a classic 60s Girlgroup bassline beloved of the likes of Les Rallizes

Denudes into a slight ballad on the edge of the void, held back by the teary-eyed, wistful and enveloping vocal cooed by Huang. Each song feels like a love song dedicated to the bits between worlds, between beats, the negative space between people where desires, feelings and loss hangs in the air, resolute and unresolved.

T. Gowdy returns with a major statement and luminous stylistic expansion on his third album for Constellation. Trill Scan is an exquisite suite of songs literally and figuratively about alchemy, where Gowdy melds his background in choral and medieval music with his trademark analogue electronics. Following the acclaimed Miracles (Bleep Album of the Week / Albums of the Year 2022), Gowdy's bar-raising new LP centers human voice for the first time. Choral set-pieces and solo lead vocals, along with his own lute playing, are novel elements in Gowdy's work, and draw on strains of Middle Ages polyphony and the Baroque "broken style" to further distinguish Trill Scan from anything in his discography to date. Gowdy sees "the modal language of medieval Europe as a less distant cousin to indigenous traditional music practice" compared to a Classical-colonial "patriarchal order of tonality that honours a system of domination." The 12th century Notre Dame School of choral music and 17th century style brisé each carry tonal materiality, heterodox technique, and cultural-historical symbolism central to Trill Scan's conceptual and compositional alchemy. Gowdy coheres these beautifully into his palette of serpentine slowburn electronics, a minimal analogue-driven techno shaped by aleatory strategies and tinged with post-punk grit. Gowdy's sound has been aptly described as "gently transportative, flickering like a busted halogen lamp" and his overriding pursuit of psychoacoustic immanence likened to "getting your brain massaged" and praised as "blissful work that bristles with effervescent energy, like brain waves coming in and out of focus." Trill Scan expands this sonic sensibility with more conspicuous harmonic complexity, stylistic variety, and humanistic narrative arc. Alternately sacramental and intimately personal vocals, sometimes wordless and sometimes lyrical, are worked into superlative instrumental tracks, yielding a warmly immersive concept album that's equally Gowdy's most musical. Gowdy sings explicitly of alchemy on the hypnotic album centerpiece "Novus Lumen" with lyrics that gesture at these medieval processes of material investigation. The tension between the scientific and esoteric is crucial; the separation and synthesis of physical substances in medieval alchemy maps onto his fixation with the interplay between the materiality of sound and psychoacoustics. Gowdy follows the Jungian interpretation of classic alchemical texts as an historical bridge to theories of the psyche, where consciousness itself is treated as materiality and similarly subjected to methodical analysis and experimentation, to deconstruction, dissolution, transformation, reintegration, metamorphosis. Song titles like "Arislei Bone" and "Materiadiscipuli" further reference these mythopoetic throughlines from medieval alchemy to modern psychology. Gowdy chooses disruptive forms from the history of Western music that symbolize and prefigure the modern psychological subject and its struggle for/against order, even as they also evoke liturgy and the Renaissance court. The sacramental adds a potent dimension to his pursuit of psychoacoustic activation, meditation, and transcendence, as choral passages intersperse with electronic drone and pointillism throughout the album. His gorgeous Fennesz-meets-lute rendition of the Baroque composition "Courante" by François Dufault offers idiomatic salon-secular counterpoint. Album closer "Strewn" is bookended by a final recurrence of choral invocation, with pulsing earworm motorik techno in between, over which Gowdy whisper-sings a dreamlike vision quest of mythic-alchemical imagery: "as I washed my eyes they turned to metal / and the memories melted to the metal / the metal of my heart." A mesmerizing final song that explicitly invokes Gowdy's search for materialized abstraction and substantive musical immanence wrought from his own psycho-therapeutic subjectivity, and encapsulates the album's turn towards more harmonic, historicized, and humanistic elements. Trill Scan commingles empyrean and earthly electronic songcraft to genuinely original and absorbing effect. Thanks for listening. RIYL: Coil, Nicolás Jaar, Alessandro Cortini, Pantha Du Prince, Fennesz, Visible Cloaks, Actress,

Powerful works of art have traditionally sprung from some source deep within an artist and, if they strike the right tone, resonate with an audience to leave a lasting mark. But what if that equation were reversed: what if an artist were to draw their inspiration from deep within their audience, and use that to reflect those ideas, emotions, hopes, fears, pains and aspirations back to us?

Over a two year journey, audio-visual artist and electronic innovator Max Cooper has inverted the creative process by collecting hundreds of anonymous quotes, posing deep but open questions such as "What would you like to express which you cannot in everyday life?" and "What is it like to exist inside your head?"

The goal: to understand what it is truly like to be human right now. The result: his new album On Being, to be released in February 2025 with the first single "Sun In A Box" coming this September 4th.

With On Being, Cooper aimed to probe under the synthetic surface of social media to "create a snapshot of our minds these days," as he puts it by asking people to share anonymously what they dare not ever say publicly. The result is an emotionally raw and shockingly honest kaleidoscope of confessions, ranging from suicide contemplations to miserable marriages to simple pure loneliness, contrasting with hundreds of anonymous confessions of love and longing.

"I was interested in the way I interact with people for my writing process, which usually involves a one-way communication of feelings and ideas that I later find out whether they resonate with others or not," says Cooper.

"With this I could start instead with people's thoughts and feelings, what resonates for them, and make my own interpretations of those musically and visually, and then send those back out to everyone. It's more of a collaborative approach to making an album, and more intense."

Grief, hope, regret, joy, hurt and love form the basis for each track, taking Cooper's ever-evolving creative process in a completely new direction - with profoundly intense results.

"Rendering the experience of being is at the core of what I do musically - but I hadn't realised the impact that other people's words on being would have on me until I started reading the database of thoughts," he says.

"It was like finding a secret window into everyone's minds, and discovering amongst the chaos, pleasure and pain, the experiences that we all share at different times of our lives, and overwhelming emotions and connections that call out to be explored."

Despite what we see in the maelstrom of rage in the echo chambers of society ‘On Being’ reveals that humans still have an innate need to trust one another and express communal generosity - more easily done from the safety of an anonymous portal.

"The quotes carried so much weight for me - I interpreted them with my usual musical tools, but as you can hear in the music, everything got more extreme as I dove into the depths of what everyone had to say later in the record," says Cooper.

The result is a unique work of art that demonstrates unequivocally not only the power of using music without words to express emotions, but the power of words to express what seemed to be inexpressible.

On Being will continue to evolve as Cooper gathers more confessions to feed into this ecosystem of emotions and to create a new range of art projects and other accompanying works which hopefully will speak truthfully to humanity today - and of who we are and who we can become.

Music is like literature: getting through a second novel or second album is often a perilous exercise. Spatsz and Mona Soyoc, propelled into the limelight by their explosive Try Out, headed off to New York to record a follow-up to this fabulous debut. By Pass (1983) follows in the musical and sonic footsteps of its predecessor. The same sticky synth layers, the same flayed vocals capable of voluptuous flights, KaS Product still navigates the murky waters of a nervous, unhealthy cold wave, somewhere between the gall of Suicide and the gothic melodies of Siouxsie. And the melodies are always there, as on the stunning "Tina Town" and "T.M.T", two of the most successful tracks on an album that holds up remarkably well, and also deserves a closer look at its detours, such as "Taking Shape" or "Tape" at the end of the disc.

Beaten To Death’s brutal and innovative sound is somewhat melodic, in a strange way, and that’s why their sound is often called ‘melodic grindcore’; an oxymoronic definition, some might even say a moronic definition, but still the definition that best applies to this Norwegian quintet’s music. Beaten To Death consists of members from Insense, Tsjuder, The Cumshots, Gothminister and She Said Destroy and have won fans over globally for their energetic, strangely melodic and innovative approach to grindcore. With their combination of hysterical blast beats, meaty grooves, double guitar twang attack, asshole-of-god-earthquake bass and tongue in cheek lyrical approach to the shittiness of life, Beaten To Death have dug out their very own little niche in the music world. Their new sixth album “Sunrise Over Rigor Mortis” was recorded and mixed by Tommy Hjelm, and the amazing artwork is once again by William Hay. Since their last album from 2021, all the band members have aged horribly, and this is also the theme of the album. The positive thing about getting closer to the grave, is that profound grindcore poetry comes much easier than when the member were still carefree youngster, frolicking in the Norwegian forests…

After organizing a series of club nights in Nuremberg under the banner “Get Closer,” Homebase and Jürgen Kirsch are going to launch a music label under the same brand.



Their approach is to release timeless electronic music pieces on vinyl, get back to the essence of things and focus on what truly matters: good and straightforward music! For the label’s debut, they signed two tracks from Pokerflat & 8Bit artist Markus Homm, getting remixed by the Labelowners himself.



marbled Vinyl !! comes in different Colors

The Norwegian indie-pop super-group with members from Making Marks, The Little Hands of Asphalt, Mildfire, Flight Mode and Elva return with a third album of original Christmas songs.

Get into that alternative, Nordic Christmas spirit! Christmas III at its heart is an alt-Christmas album: the songs are firmly rooted in December’s festivities, albeit not usually relying on the season’s traditional reference points. The songs hone in on the more ambivalent sides of Christmas - family, customs and the passing of time - with a keen eye towards the holidays’ most obvious function in countries close to the Artic circle: getting through the cold and dark times to celebrate the winter solstice and the turning of the sun. Drawing from Sufjan Stevens’ epic indie Christmas compendium and Phil Spector’s wall of sound classic A Christmas Gift From You, Christmas III is built on shimmering guitars, snow filled piano lines, gentle strings, springy vocals and dynamic drums - all steadily conducted by Sunturns’ own Sjur Lyseid (Flight Mode, The Little Hands of Asphalt) in the producer’s seat at his Globus studio in Oslo. With 3 songwriters (Ola Innset, Einar Stray & Sjur Lyseid) contributing to Christmas III, there’s an ever shifting sense of reflections. Parenthood and the struggles of the dark Norwegian winter is behind Ola’s track First Winter. “Sometimes I feel bad about bringing children into such a difficult world. Not so much with respect to daylight and the seasons, they’re just going to have to learn how to live with it, but with many other things – like war, poverty, climate change and even just death.” Back In Town might have been inspired by a discussion over whether Thin Lizzy’s “The Boys Are Back In Town” is a Christmas song or not, but it’s written about his youngest daughter Klara, to his elder daughter, about taking holidays with your family in a town you once lived. Einar pulls in Phoenix and Mew by the way of Jesus and Mary Chain on Crash Course Christmas, resulting in a seasick wave of a pop tune. “It’s a song about the guilt of not prioritizing your relationships. It’s been year of rainchecks and Christmas finally gives you some time to reflect. You’ve experienced so much and changed so much as a person that you almost forget your origins. Coming home for Christmas can then be a ritual of finding your way back to what you left behind." Drawing on the knitwear from the film Love, Actually, Turtle Neck, taps into the Backstreet Boys by way of Mac Demarco, with a sneaky reference to the legendary Norwegian Christmas hit En Stjerne Skinner I Natt. Album closer This Christmas / Next Christmas leans in on the hook for the Norwegian Christmas TV show Jul i Blåfjell, a multi-generational seasonal staple (essentially a daily children’s advent calendar kids show). “The song is about your parents ageing and needing your help – possibly really far away - while at the same time having your own children to take care of”. The cover artwork is a homage to Christmas dress codes for Norwegian men. Suits and shirts are a rarity in day to day life, but there are a handful of occasions that require some form of formal attempt at a suit: New Year’s Eve, National Day, weddings & funerals, and Christmas Eve: resulting in various degrees of sartorial elegance on the day (and on this instance, a hot summer’s day stifling the Christmas vibes, with ambiguous apparel instructions ahead of the photoshoot!).

Merry Christmas! Sunturns are Ola Innset – vocals, guitars, banjo. Sjur Lyseid – vocals, guitars. Einar Stray – vocals, keyboards, guitars. Eivind Almhjell – guitars, bass. Simen Herning – guitar. Jørgen Nordby – drums.