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The new album will be released across a series of 4 limited edition 12" vinyls. This is the 2nd 12 inch From Tronic Jazz The Berlin Sessions. A Guy Called Gerald has spent the last couple of years flitting through shadows, turning up on labels like Perlon, Beatstreet and Sender like a peripatetic prophet of the Berlin underground, seeding the scene with cryptic singles that return to the past to suggest alternate futures. Now he returns to Berlin's Laboratory Instinct label with the follow-up to 2006's Proto Acid: The Berlin Sessions, the album that re-established Gerald as an acid hero and techno auteur. Tronic Jazz: The Berlin Sessions builds upon the foundation established by its predecessor to create an even more powerful statement of intent, one that communicates more persuasively than ever Gerald's vision for techno in its third decade of existence. One immediate difference stands out, this time around. Where Proto Acid offered a seamless mix of 24 cuts, recorded in one epic session, Tronic Jazz collects 13 standalone tracks. That's welcome news to DJs. After so many years of digital anything-goes, you might have forgotten the kind of sounds that are possible with "old" machines: the way a lead stacked against tuned percussion and shrouded in pads can evoke still other sounds, hidden in the mix, or maybe not really there at all. It's a ghostly, suggestive presence, a kind of evocation of infinite possibility within the context of a limited set of inputs. In that sense, Tronic Jazz follows a certain minimalist impulse, but it's far too lush ever to be mistaken for the dread "mnml" of recent years. This stuff is wide-eyed and full of life. When it funks, it funks hard, and when it smoothes out, it can be as intimate as a hand-written note left on a lover's pillow. As "class ic" as Tronic Jazz may be, the album refutes any notion that "class ic" equals "retro," that the ideas have all been expressed before. Tronic Jazz takes the foundations of house and techno as though they were a kind of language, and speaks volumes with them.

zwölf starke technotracks mit detroiteinschlag !! aber immer nach vorne !!!

With Contemplative Figuration we see Broshuda pushing his amorphous, impossible-to-pin-down music in exciting new directions. Stitched together in various European cities over the last few years, it is the artist’s most dynamic and ambitious release thus far, drawing equally from musique concrete, beat research, ambient, tape collage, and spoken word. Episodic in nature, the collection functions well as a sort of impressionistic travelogue, with romantic, hazy atmospheres coaxed from borrowed equipment, serendipitous recording sessions with old friends, and even a drum sequence programmed with Mario Paint, among other curios and sleights of hand. Broshuda deftly wrings bonafide cohesion and balance from these disparate source materials, tools, and locations, as on opener “Kakigori,” which allows a snaking harmonic drone the space to evolve before exploding it into a sort of seething, dubbed out pointillism. Later, “Lied Für Hase” concocts a potent, humid atmosphere of beautifully evolving acoustic piano loops and elegant narration. Taken as a whole, Contemplative Figuration is a weightless, transportive record, one that is bursting at the seams with ideas, mischief, and a restless spirit.

Mastered by Helmut Erler at D&M, Artwork by Alex McCullough and Niall Wynne Lewis.

Motoko & Myers is the collaborative project of Bay Area-based duo Wonja Fairbrother and Daniel Letson. “Colocate” follows their 2018 debut release on the Open Hands Real Flames imprint (Bass Clef), further developing their distinctive style which combines melodic, pop song structures with live improvisation and odd or no-meter approaches to rhythm and timing. It is a collection of bright, addictive listening, full of tracks that manage to feel at once hooky and aleatory, naive and rigorously arranged.

Recorded and assembled sporadically over a period of several years, the album’s idiosyncratic palette was achieved through much technical and methodological eccentricity: “4-handed” collaborative keyboard playing; 12-bit sampling and archaic presets; field recordings of cicadas in Louisville, Kentucky and church bells in Freiburg im Breisgau. The album’s nine tracks exude a homespun quality that is rare to find in contemporary electronic music – hazy, warm, and disarmingly organic.