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ith canceled shows, closed venues and lost incomes, the pandemic was bad news for many music artists. But it wasn't only bad news in 2020, as many artists used their struggle to do what they do best during difficult times: create great music. This is why N.E.W.S. Records, a record company based in Ghent releases 'Bad News. Good News.'. A limited edition vinyl record with great songs that couldn't be played live because of the pandemic. The record itself is made from the ashes of newspapers and magazines containing the bad news that hit the music industry in 2020 (and prevented artists from performing live). As proof that great music always survives bad news, no matter how desperate things can get. To create the records, N.E.W.S. Records worked with And Vinyly, a UK-based company specialized in pressing vinyl records with ashes.

Many artists collaborated on the project and shared their insight on how the bad news happening in the music world influenced their music, like Johannes Genard, lead singer of School is Cool: "The one good thing about bad times is that they open new perspectives on things you've grown accustomed to, and that is exactly our core business as artists: comforting during challenging times; challenging during comfortable times and finding new ways to look at old things."

The compilation contains some exclusives like the Brihang & Compact Disk Dummies 'Steentje / I Remember' mash up, recorded live for 'Week van de Belgische Muziek' and Sam De Nef's cover of the belpop classic 'Satelliet Suzy' recorded for StuBru.

Ulna’s OEA is a “bar-rock getting sober record.“ The first full length solo record of Ulna, aka Adam Schubert of Cafe Racer, OEA is an ode to reinvention. Along with the release comes a rebranding--formerly Ruins, Schubert’s new pseudonym ULNA is a reference to a pivotal moment in his childhood. At the age of 14, Schubert shattered the bone on the inside of his forearm in a skating accident, and took up the guitar. “That’s what made me serious about playing music,” says Schubert.

This name change also accompanied Schubert’s shift towards sobriety--OEA was created right as Schubert reconfigured his life without drugs or alcohol. With the exception of the final track, “Dead Friends,” the whole album was written while in a recovery program. “You have to reinvent your whole personality, you have to be a different person,” says Schubert.”Who am I if I’m not the crazy drunk dude who’s doing drugs in the bathroom?”

OEA is an intensely personal record, in subject matter but also quite literally--Schubert plays every instrument, though the record feels far from a home-demo, recorded and mastered by Robby Hanes at Strange Magic Recording in Chicago’s Logan Square. Schubert’s songs are ambling and full of picked guitar and retro harmonies, a stylistic sensibility he attributes to a love for the Beatles and “acoustic rock with a weird punk edge,” a-la Big Thief and Kurt Vile. Though instrumentally sunny, his vocals hint at something else - there’s an underlying ache. OEA is an easy listen, but with a depth of emotion that demands listeners’ attention.

OEA explores the range of emotions experienced in the transition to sobriety, from fear to backslide to self doubt. At first listen, “Turn The Record On” feels almost like a love song, with a chorus of “turn the record on/ you’re my favorite song,” but in actuality the song is the story of an empty encounter rather than romance. “It’s kind of about this sad hookup with someone else who is equal in your addiction, you’re just using each other because you don’t want to be alone in your using,” says Schubert. “We both have this problem and we can have fun in it together because we both understand. They know the score.”

While “Turn The Record On” speaks to a moment of shared addiction, other tracks examine what comes after sobriety. “And I took the pill like I should / and I stayed clean just like I said I would,” begins “Last Song,” which Schubert cites as one of the hardest tracks to write. “I got sober and I take medication and - I’m doing all this stuff now but nothing’s changed,” says Schubert. “ I think that’s pretty common in people who get sober. I did all this stuff and now what?”

The penultimate track on the album, “Last Song” fades into a noisy interlude that gives listeners the feeling of motion, like entering a tunnel and emerging into a quieter, lo-fi recording, the closing track “Dead Friends.” The only non-studio track, “Dead Friends” was recorded in Schubert’s home, and carries with it a warm intimacy. “I wanted it to sound like you’re outside somewhere, you're walking, and you step inside somewhere that feels safe,” says Schubert.

This closing track embodies the mood of OEA- warm but with a melancholy edge, like coming in from the cold but still feeling a lingering chill. It’s an album that feels comfortable and cohesive--though individual tracks stand alone, OEA works best when listened through start to finish. It’s a record to put on while cooking dinner and let sink in.

81355 (pronounced `bless') is a meeting of the minds between three pillars of the Indianapolis music scene; Sirius Blvck, Oreo Jones, and Sedcairn Archives. While the three have worked together in the past, this is their first start-to-finish collaboration, and the result is the stunning and distinctive debut Time I'll Be of Use. Simultaneously mystical and stark, somber and danceable, the project grapples with hard-wired truths and imagines alternate realities with better futures. These lucid wanderings amongst the street fires sound like a cross between the ghost of progressive electronic music of the 70s with its innovative eccentricities, and acrobatic wordplay delivered with sharp resolve. While surrealist in its metaphors and abstraction, it doesn't betray a present awareness. Reflecting on Black struggle in the pandemicridden and democracy faltering landscape of 2020, each member arrived from a synchronistic space, and the recording process ended up being largely intuitive. On "Capstone," the opening track on the album, Sirius Blvck offers a look from inside his space, "This is what we've come to. Generational curses I still can't undo. Just taught my lil girl to tie her shoes now she running to. Holy smokes lungs made of leather like it's comfortable. Climbing up this infinite ladder to get a better view." These three musical vagabonds have met up to find even themselves surprised with the results. Drawing inspiration from the likes of biting poetic commentary of the late Naptown residents, Etheridge Knight and Kurt Vonnegut, OJ summons a golden-era flow and paints a picture of the group's influences, surroundings, and trajectory in one fell swoop in "Thumbs Up." "Alright, in my feelings tonight, Honda Civic overturned as it burns through the night. Bone Thugs in these streets no Surender in sight. I'm writing poems from a jail cell, Etheridge Knight. I throw a fit when I flip it, it's all vintage. A pearl white Bronco like OJ you done did it. The sunshine shatters the rock painted so vivid. Two-hundred fifty pounds of gifted we so lifted_ wassup?" Sirius, with poetry present even in his speaking voice, adds, "It's a way to carve our story in the sky before we're gone. This is us choosing to believe that this time, things will be different. It is an affirmation to the universe. This time I'll see the whole blessing. This time I'll be of use."

Excelsior! It’s the hail of yore that one should go ever onward and upward. And so, fittingly Onwards and Downwards is the occultist Swedish band Alastor’s clever call to arms... and also a reflection of our collective dark state of mind these days.
“If our last album Slave to the Grave were about death, this record is more about madness,” says guitarist Hampus Sandell. “You can look at the whole record as one person’s gradual slip into insanity. An ongoing nightmare without end. It also sums up the state of the world around us as this year has clearly shown.”
Alastor is heavy doom rock for the wicked and depraved. Drenched in heavy, distorted darkness and steeped in occult horror that will make your skin crawl and ears cry sweet tears of blood, the band is revitalized in 2021 with meticulously crafted songs and new drummer Jim Nordström bringing a hard-hitting and precise energy.
“It’s a more focused record but at the same time it’s more personal and naked. More raw emotion and pain,” Hampus says. The band recorded the album with the help of Joona Hassinen of Studio Underjord, who has helped with mixing since their ”Blood on Satan’s Claw” EP in 2017. Christoffer Karlsson of The Dahmers also assisted with overdubs and encouraged the band to demo the material early on, aiding in the album’s more deliberate and tighter feel.
From the first note of opener “The Killer In My Skull” the guitars are far thicker and out front than ever, and Nordström pummels the snare and kick like a young Dave Grohl. Bassist/vocalist Robin Arnryd’s chorus-drenched voice soars above it all like a one-man choir, at times harmonizing beautifully with shimmering Hammond organ notes. Nary a moment is wasted on the droning navel-gazing of lesser bands. Particularly, the driving anthem “Death Cult” which sounds like it would fit comfortably on QOTSA’s Songs For The Deaf, though there’s considerably more heft here. The title track pays its due to the Devil’s tritone in a marvelously woven framework of intertwining melodies befitting the album’s theme of descent into madness.
The quartet released its epic 3-song debut album Black Magic in early 2017 via Twin Earth Records, followed by the 2-track “Blood On Satan’s Claw” EP on Halloween the same year. Joining forces with RidingEasy Records in 2018, Alastor summoned the 7-track hateful gospel Slave To The Grave, which was packed with dynamic twists and turns, and funereal girth. It was met with considerable praise, setting the stage for the band’s greatest step onward (and upward... or downward, depending on your preferences.)

Excelsior! It’s the hail of yore that one should go ever onward and upward. And so, fittingly Onwards and Downwards is the occultist Swedish band Alastor’s clever call to arms... and also a reflection of our collective dark state of mind these days.
“If our last album Slave to the Grave were about death, this record is more about madness,” says guitarist Hampus Sandell. “You can look at the whole record as one person’s gradual slip into insanity. An ongoing nightmare without end. It also sums up the state of the world around us as this year has clearly shown.”
Alastor is heavy doom rock for the wicked and depraved. Drenched in heavy, distorted darkness and steeped in occult horror that will make your skin crawl and ears cry sweet tears of blood, the band is revitalized in 2021 with meticulously crafted songs and new drummer Jim Nordström bringing a hard-hitting and precise energy.
“It’s a more focused record but at the same time it’s more personal and naked. More raw emotion and pain,” Hampus says. The band recorded the album with the help of Joona Hassinen of Studio Underjord, who has helped with mixing since their ”Blood on Satan’s Claw” EP in 2017. Christoffer Karlsson of The Dahmers also assisted with overdubs and encouraged the band to demo the material early on, aiding in the album’s more deliberate and tighter feel.
From the first note of opener “The Killer In My Skull” the guitars are far thicker and out front than ever, and Nordström pummels the snare and kick like a young Dave Grohl. Bassist/vocalist Robin Arnryd’s chorus-drenched voice soars above it all like a one-man choir, at times harmonizing beautifully with shimmering Hammond organ notes. Nary a moment is wasted on the droning navel-gazing of lesser bands. Particularly, the driving anthem “Death Cult” which sounds like it would fit comfortably on QOTSA’s Songs For The Deaf, though there’s considerably more heft here. The title track pays its due to the Devil’s tritone in a marvelously woven framework of intertwining melodies befitting the album’s theme of descent into madness.
The quartet released its epic 3-song debut album Black Magic in early 2017 via Twin Earth Records, followed by the 2-track “Blood On Satan’s Claw” EP on Halloween the same year. Joining forces with RidingEasy Records in 2018, Alastor summoned the 7-track hateful gospel Slave To The Grave, which was packed with dynamic twists and turns, and funereal girth. It was met with considerable praise, setting the stage for the band’s greatest step onward (and upward... or downward, depending on your preferences.)

‘Nurture’ is an album about hope, overcoming despair, faithfully pursuing a sense of purpose, and trying to prove that it’s worthwhile to try.
This album came about during a period of intense creative and emotional struggle. I had structured my life around the expectation that the only thing that made me happy was writing music. But it was exactly that obsession and imbalance that made writing music an impossibility for me for years.
I wanted it too much, was highly self-critical, and I was so scared that I wouldn’t ever be able to write music again. And the more desperate I became to write music, the harder it became.
Only by accepting that I might never be able to do it again, and by embracing and trying to find happiness in aspects of life outside of music, was I able to slowly claw my way into being able to do it again. And on the other side of all this fear and anxiety, I found this life-giving sort of light and beauty. I felt a gratitude towards real life that I used to only feel towards fiction.
I’m really, deeply glad that I wrote this album. It’s my favorite music I’ve ever made, and it made me feel purposeful and happy to write music again. I want to write music that tells people that an earnest and sincere effort to overcome that thing you’re struggling with is the best path forward.
There’s no shortage of fuel for despair and nihilism, but I’ve found that those things don’t help. I want the listener to know that even when it seems impossible and insurmountable, it’s worthwhile to do your best, that there’s no shame in hope, and that purpose and meaning are worth pursuing.

After decades on the road and the never-ending hustle of life as an artist, Lou Barlow has tapped into a new confidence in the chaos. In 2021, the concept of balance feels particularly intimidating. Now more than ever, it's clear life isn't just leveling out a pair of responsibilities. Instead, we're chasing after a flock of different ideals with a butterfly net. On Barlow's new solo album, Reason to Live, he has come to an understanding of that swirl rather than trying to contain it. As a long-time indie legend, Barlow has found a life akin to a middle-class musician. In recent years, he's moved from Los Angeles back to Massachusetts, where he lives with his wife and three kids. And yet rather than settle into a comfortable malaise or yearn for the open road, Barlow's strengthened urgency finds a way to merge the two instincts. Reason to Live is shambolic and grand yet intimate and doting, warmly acoustic and crackling with grit. "I had been struggling for a way to connect both my home life and my recorded life, but this record is the first time I've integrated that," Barlow says. By folding the many facets of his life into one package, Reason to Live radiates with a renewed balance and calm. That comfort in complexity shines through even in the recording process, with select songs having origins in decades past and others written in the early stages of 2020. The multitude of whirring messages of Reason to Live are united by Barlow's roiling multilayered arrangements and the understanding that change is inevitable - and that it can bring you a new reason to live in the darkest times. "This album is me really opening up, and the album follows that through its many different themes," he says. "Some of my other work could be almost claustrophobic in its insistence on being all tied together but there's space for people to live inside these songs." After albums with Sebadoh, Dinosaur Jr., Folk Implosion, and under his own name, listeners may have felt they knew the construction of a Barlow song, even that they knew Barlow himself. "People have this vision of me as this heartbroken, depressed guy, but this record feels so true to who I am, to this rich life I now have full of people I love," he says. "The songs culminated over the last five years to show that music has returned to its central comforting role in my life. Now I'm home."

In the midst of a global pandemic John Hiatt
walked into Historic RCA Studio B and opened up
a lifetime full of leftover feelings. A half-century
ago, Hiatt lived in a ratty, $15-a-week room on
Nashville’s 16th Avenue, less than a mile away
from the RCA and Columbia studios that were the
heartbeat of what had come to be known as ‘Music
Row’. In the ensuing 50 years, he went from a
scuffling young buck to a celebrated grand master
of song.
With ‘Leftover Feelings, Hiatt teamed up with multiGrammy winning artist and producer Jerry Douglas
and his band, The Jerry Douglas Band. There’s no
drummer, yet these grooves are deep and true.
And while the up-tempo songs are, as ever, filled
with delightful internal rhyme and sly aggression,
the Jerry Douglas Band’s empathetic musicianship
nudges Hiatt to performances that are startlingly
vulnerable.
In life, leftover feelings can remain unresolved, no
matter how often explored. Explicated in a place of
history, a place of comfort. A sacred place, if you
believe the documentation of human expression to
be a holy thing. Here then, with this album, there is
a meeting of bruised and triumphant American
giants. Here are Hiatt and Douglas, creating the
meant-to-be: Love songs and road songs, sly
songs and hurt songs. Their songs and now our
songs. Leftover feelings that edify and sustain.

Lux' is what we use to measure the intensity of light as we perceive it, when it's hitting or passing through a surface.

The first track, that gives the EP its name, embodies exactly that - the fluctuating, ever-changing nature of light; from fragile and fleeting to overwhelming and powerful. 'Lux' kicks off with warm synths creeping in, like rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Dreamy crescendos take you for a ride and build up until they melt into a comforting blanket of piano chords, accompanied by a propelling hi-hat pattern that will make you want to move. The track is hopeful, the start of a journey, with compelling break downs, industrial rhythm elements and powerful build-ups such as the one to the final section, dominated entirely by its fusion between techno-beat and dance-feel.

Next up is 'Odyssee'. An unapologetic track that picks up the pace. Kicking off boldly with harmonic tension and enticing drum sounds, it's hard not to surrender to the rich and fast-moving soundscape. Proud drums meet steel sounds and tentative piano figures, all glued together by the driving beat, determined to get to the next stop of this lifelong voyage. Striking accents, in the form of short-lived breaths or staccato bass lines take you through a labyrinth of growing gritty synths. A track that easily leads you through space and time and makes it feel like the most natural thing in the world. We're greeted with standalone bright and sparkly synth movements as 'Phoenix' rises and wraps us in warmth. Gently, like raindrops, a rhythmic pattern starts dripping in. Definition, like in many of his other works, blends rhythmical sounds that couldn't be more different into one, making them sound like they were never meant to exist unless next to each other. The track is a symbiosis of modern and classical sounds, lets us bathe in analogue warmth but always rolls along with digital precision.

'Phoenix' starts softly and ends in roaring flames: in a repetitively enchanting party, fabricated out of dark, pumping beats and gritty synths. 'Raven', the final of the four tracks and the lead single (released alongside the Jonas Ratshman remix just 1 week ago), intrigues with chants and empowerment just as much as with its determination and fragility. Falling from the highest heights, Raven lets you rediscover who you are when you hit the ground. Carried by a throbbing four-on-the-floor kick drum and covered in a synth-haze that is hard to resist, you'll float along, fall and rise with the everlasting wave-like movement of human existence.

Rich in musical associations yet utterly singular in its voice, joyous with an inner tranquility, the music of Natural Information Society is unlike any other being made today. Their sixth album in eleven years for eremite records, descension (Out of Our Constrictions) is the first to be recorded live, featuring a set from London’s Cafe OTO with veteran English free-improv great Evan Parker, & the first to feature just one extended composition. The 75-minute performance, inspired by the galvanizing presence of Parker, is a sustained bacchanalia of collective ecstasy. You could call it their party album.

This was the second time Parker played with NIS. Joshua Abrams: “Both times we played compositions with Evan in mind. I don’t tell Evan anything. He’s a free agent.”

The music is focused & malleable, energized & even-keeled, drawing on concepts of ensemble playing common to musics from many locations & eras without any one specific aesthetic realization completely defining it.

“The rhythms that Mikel plays are not an exact reference to Chicago house, but that’s in there,” Abrams says. “I like to take a cyclic view of music history, can we take that four-on-the-floor, & consider how it connects to swing-era music? Can we articulate a through line? I dee-jayed for years in Chicago & lessons I learned from playing records for dancing inform how I think about the group’s music. The listener can make connections to aspects of soul music, electronic music, minimalism, traditional folk musics, & other musics of the diaspora as well. It’s about these aspects coming together. I don’t need to mimic something, I need to embody it to get to the spirit, to get to the living thing.”

For jazz fans, the sound of Parker’s soprano & Jason Stein’s bass clarinet might evoke Coltrane & Dolphy, even though they didn’t necessarily set out to do that & they play with complete individuality. Abrams sees a bridge to the historical precedent, too. “Since we first met in the 1990s, one of the things that Evan and I connected on was Coltrane’s music,” he says. “I hoped that we would tap into that sound world intuitively. In this case, I think that level of evocation adds another layer of depth, versus a layer of reference.”

Indeed, this is a performance in which the connections among the ensemble & the creative tension between improvisation and composition build into a complex mesh of associations & interactions. While the band confines itself to the territory mapped out by Abrams’ composition, they are remarkably attentive & responsive, making adjustments to Parker’s improvisations. When Parker’s intricate patterns of notes interweave with the band, the parts reinforce one another & the music rockets upward. Sometimes, Parker’s lines are cradled by the group’s gentle pulse & an unearthly lyrical balance is struck.

Drummer Mikel Patrick Avery is locked-in, playing with hellacious long-form discipline, feel & responsiveness. Jason Stein’s animated, vocalized bass clarinet weaves in & out with Lisa Alvarado’s harmonium to state the piece’s thematic material; the pulsing tremolo on the harmonium brings a Spacemen 3 vibe to the party. Abrams ties together melody & rhythm on guimbri, a presence that leads without seeming to. Like his bandmates, he shifts modes of playing frequently, improvising & then returning to the composed structure.

“As specific as the composition is, the goal is to internalize it & mix it up,” Abrams says. “The idea is to get so comfortable that we can make spontaneous changes, find new routes of activity, stasis & byways every gig. It’s like a web we’re spinning. If someone makes a move, we all aim to be aware of it, make room for it. Experiencing & listening is what it’s about, & Evan supercharges that.”

& “supercharged” is the word for this album. With Parker further opening up their music, descension (Out of Our Constrictions) is the sound of Natural Information Society growing both more disciplined and freer, one of the great bands of its time on a deep run.

Aguirre edition: Mastered by Helge Sten, Audio Virus, Oslo. Lacquers by Dubplates & Mastering. Liner Notes by Theaster Gates. LPs pressed on premium audiophile-quality vinyl at Pallas Records. US 2xLP edition available thru Eremite records.

Another timeless release by Redeye from 1994 to be back in stock on After 6 AM in January. Highly recommended! Don't support the Discogs sharks. Support the original label and the artist!

ESCAPE THE FATE is a three-word phrase synonymous with heavy rock n’ roll and hooks, post-hardcore with weight, and unrelenting genre-redefining anthems built for diverse audiences. Over a decade into their young career, they have proven to move crowds equally at major rock radio festivals, the legendary Vans Warped Tour, or on the road with Five Finger Death Punch. CHEMICAL WARFARE is the sound of a band that’s more comfortable in their own skin than ever, recharged for the next era of their career, reinvigorated, and redefined, without losing any edge. The vinyl version of the album comes coloured in Translucent Yellow with black splatter.

A bit of tenderness in this brutal world... Dub Ambient pearl !

Long out of print and highly anticipated repress of the Andrew Weatherall ‘anti-produced’ long player. The Twilight Sad’s third full-length, No One Can Ever Know, marked a sonic shift for the band



'No One Can Ever Know' was released across all formats on 6th February 2012 and was the follow-up to 2009's acclaimed break-through 'Forget The Night Ahead'. Already flagged by the widely leaked 'Kill It In The Morning' and forthcoming first single proper, 'Sick', 'No One Can Ever Know' marked a sonic shift for The Twilight Sad. Freshly inspired by a listening diet of Caberet Voltaire, Liars, Magazine, Autechre, Banshees, Fad Gadget, PiL and Can, a synth-heavy sound characterizes 'No One Can Ever Know', a record thematically akin to 'Holy Bible' era Manics, 'Violator'-era Depeche Mode and 'The Downward Spiral' -era Nine Inch Nails.

"We wanted to be a lot more spontaneous, get outside our comfort zone - not to fall back into repeating what we've done previously", explains guitarist Andy MacFarlane. "So we moved to London for a month to record at The Pool and got Andrew Weatherall involved to bounce ideas off and to generally reassure us of the direction we were already progressing in - toward a sparser sound, with a colder, slightly militant feel."

Under the guidance of Weatherall the band experimented with vintage analogue synths - borrowed from Ben Hillier - to work on the core sounds they wanted, finding inspiration too in the distinctive production style of innovators like Martin Hannett and Conny Plank. For the first time the drums were also recorded separately utilising a lot of synthetic effects which allowed for the easy manipulation of the sounds and samples later in the process. Stylistically, the guitars tend to refract John McGeogh (Magazine/ Banshees) or Keith Levene (PiL) rather than the 'wall of sound' approach that defined The Twilight Sad's previous recordings.

Lyrically 'No One Can Ever Know' finds singer James Graham on typically ominous form, delivering lightning bolts of malevolent threat. "I'll find you - don't worry" he promises on forthcoming single, 'Another Bed' - The Twilight Sad's most radical and anthemic moment yet, it's driving disco motorik and glacial keys pushing a dizzy emotional uplift.

Cabaret Voltaire is Richard H. Kirk and ‘Shadow of
Fear’ was the band’s first studio album in 26 years,
released in 2020 to critical acclaim.
‘Dekadrone’ delves deeper into Cabaret Voltaire’s
arsenal of “harsh rhythms and threatening
detonations” (Classic Pop).
A brand-new drone album on CD packaged in a
gatefold card pack and white double vinyl in a
gatefold sleeve with full colour inner bags and high
definition audio download. (‘Dekadrone’ is
presented across the double LP as four ‘Phases’.)
“‘Shadow of Fear’ is a brash and confident
rebirth… Richard H. Kirk has chosen a good time to
revive the Cabs’ ominous industrial funk” - Uncut
(8*)
“Masterclass in shapeshifting disco… clinches these
industrial shadow-dwellers’ influence” - Mojo (4/5)
“Kirk is intent on pushing forward, ensuring that
the hints of familiarity never come with an
accompanying tang of comforting nostalgia.” - The
Guardian (4/5)
“A lot has changed in the past 26 years, but what
hasn’t altered is Cabaret Voltaire’s knack for eerie
but danceable post-punk.” - NME

Afrikan Sciences carry the torch and grant the sight. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On the A side, 'The New Dun Language' shows us the meaning of loose. Literally everything about this masterpiece takes its time and operates in its own space, rhythms work together but stand apart, timbres inherently laidback are made aggressively present, like the diffused attack of a shaker that’s shook with such purpose it’s no longer granular but razor sharp. The soundstage drops all around you like percussion shrapnel, splitting your attention every which way, while the string lines remind you that no matter how deep inside your head you’ve gone, there is always a nearby exit to the comforts of familiarity.

Flip the record over, however, and the track 'In His Convenient Way' will even further discombobulate your sense of self. Do you have dreams you’re on a merry-go-round and with each revolution you try to hop off, but you can’t? Each time you cycle around, the tension grows and grows? Well, this is like that, menacing but not dark, a demented odyssey through an impossibly thick swamp where you swear the trees are whispering to you but can’t quite understand their language, yet still you manage to communicate. As the time passes, and you near end of the track, the impenetrable veil slowly lifts and you realize you’ve been in control all along. These two songs will two songs will help to contemplate, heal and transcend.

Limited editon LP format with extra heavy textured jackets and metallic silver ink. LP includes 12" square insert with lyrics and images of the artist, and download. The raw inspiration for Vague Tidings came from a 2006 DIY tour of the 49th state. It was a trip that went off the beaten path-sometimes a bit too far for comfort. Now, over a decade later, listeners find Joe O'Connell aka Elephant Micah stationed at a creaky spinet piano, singing about the Alaskan sky. Throughout, his lyrics take a new angle on a pet theme: human encounters with the natural world. Vague Tidings places these encounters in the American West and, at times, in its sci-fi corollary, outer space. Its imagery draws from the allure of Alaska, the idea of Western prosperity, and the human relationship to wilderness more broadly. Often, O'Connell sings about the goal of capturing and commodifying nature. In poetic sketches of resource extraction industries and dark sky tourism, frontier lust runs amok. Pipelines catch fire and stars disappear, all to the tune of a stark, uncanny Americana. Vague Tidings is a sustained, hallucinatory rendering of this theme. In style, its eight songs follow a switchback path between foggy incantations and mountain anthems. Made with a small cohort of acoustic instrumentalists, the record is rough hewn, but easy on the ears. To put Vague Tidings down on tape, O'Connell assembled some of his favorite musicians in Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina area, where he's lived since 2015: Libby Rodenbough (Mipso) bows and plucks a detuned fiddle, Matt Douglas (Mountain Goats) breathes life into various woodwinds, and Matt O'Connell (Lean Year) sets the pace on a two-piece drum set. Their loose, imaginative playing pushes Vague Tidings beyond the singer-songwriter genre into something richer in texture. Ultimately, this is foreboding but spacious music, with plenty of room for reconsidering life on earth. R.I.Y.L. Jason Molina, Bonnie Prince Billy, Bill Callahan, Damien Jurado.

green vinyl

The ''Scheme EP'' proves Jenifa Mayanja as a serious artist unafraid of mixing genres, Detroit deephouse with traces of jazz. Melodic techno balancing comfortably between deep house, future jazz and downtempo, making this record extremely interesting for various musical spaces

Bill MacKay and Nathan Bowles’ debut is well titled: keys are what they play
and keys unlock things too. Their trad bonafides are balanced with
inquisitive playing that adds surprise as a formal songwriting and arranging
tool. Spirited 21st Century folk music made of equal parts bluegrass,
classical, country, gospel and improv.
‘Keys’ is, on first blush, a collection of guitar and banjo duets - but from the
opening moment, it is clear that Bill and Nathan’s agreed-upon duo is a
living organism, growing as it goes. Behind the stately figures of ‘Idumea’, a
19th Century southern hymnal played out on their stringed instruments, a
low organ drone hums persistently, signalling that this music, while coming
from traditional places, is asking more of itself, seeking sparks of inspiration
to light the path forward.
Bill and Nathan met a few years back, if time has any meaning. It didn’t
seem to at the time - after the first night they hung out, it seemed as if
they’d known each other for a while already. A year later, in 2018, they
were booked as a duo at Cropped Out. Preparing for the show involved a
correspondence exchanging lots of provisional ideas, thoughts and music
back and forth from Chicago to Durham NC, then dashing through the ideas
again on the festival grounds an hour before the show. From this seemingly
hectic preparation, their playing that night was remarkably serene, a
spiritual treatise clothed in the casual and natural manner of the proverbial
porch, or in this case, riverside-jam, as the stage literally straddled the edge
of the Ohio River. It was a stellar, simpatico first moment that asked for
more moments like it.
After several more sets the following year, they felt ready to roll tape (as the
saying goes) and chose to do so in Chicago, with Nick Broste at The Shape
Shoppe. Again, an easy rapport prevailed, allowing them to work through
their collected ideas quickly and freely, with the moments of spontaneous
decision that can come only with comfort and trust in each other’s presence.
Throughout ‘Keys’, Bill and Nathan propel their power-folk engine with intent
and feeling, joy and solemnity, as images of wariness, wonder, anger,
deliberation, forgiveness, trust and devotion rise up from the music and roll
it forward into the unknown, a place we can sense both players are happy
to go.
Eight of the ten songs featured are originals, with the other two coming
from different centuries to this one. The diversity of song is matched by the
instrumentation: in addition to Bill’s guitar and Nathan’s banjo, they add
voice, piano, percussion, pump organ, requinto and electric organ to the
richness and rusticity, the traditionalism and open space of the
compositions.

Reuben Sawyer is nothing if not prolific. He's also a man of many talents - his various projects have included the coldwave sounds of The Column, Hollow Sunshine's blown-out psych-noise, Anytime Cowboy's take on countrified weirdo-pop, and even ambient house courtesy of Rose. Oh, and he's a visual artist too, of course. Pfft, who needs an attention span anyway? One thing he's also dabbled in, however, is post-punk. Human Trophy is firmly in line with that tradition, but pulling from multiple directions at once - one minute this album rattles along like Big Black with the tempo down and the textures dialled up, the next we're firmly in Christian Death territory. The twisting guitar lines and pummelling bass of 'Forming Horrors' even call to mind his blackened punk project Dry Insides, but with less velocity and a helluva lot more menace. Is 'Corpse Dream' a goth record? Possibly. Whether goth is a lifestyle choice for Sawyer or not, he's certainly adept at immersing himself in sounds and making them feel like a comfortable fit. As with all his projects, it feels like another effortless facet of Reuben Sawyer - and in keeping with the rest of his output, it's absolutely packed with songs you'll wanna play again and again. Penultimate track 'The Roads' is built on a none-more gloomy pile-up of darkly portentous rhythms and a firm sense of disquiet, but once you're locked into its circular riffage you'll feel an urge to keep the loop going endlessly. Then there's the closer 'Blood Apex', a dual-vocal nightmare set to music which draws you back in even as it attempts to push you away. Yeah, it's pretty great.