Cerca:core tex

Corrosiv, the sophomore album from Orchestroll, reveals the duo at their most mature and vulnerable. Originally conceived as a reflection on hybridity and bastardization, the album deploys New Age and ambient compositional tropes as a launchpad, exposing their trite sanctity to the realities of corrosion. Having come of age in the 1970s and 1980s, the New Age movement perdures today as a domain of contradictions; its promise of transcendence riddled with the very commercialized dogma from which its adherents claim to flee. Healing modalities such as reiki, crystal therapy, and sound baths are simultaneously pathways to solace and sites of exploitation; their sonic counterparts—ethereal synth pads, shimmering textures, celestial drones—claim to facilitate meditation and enlightenment while devolving into empty signifiers of vitality. With Corrosiv, Orchestroll displays neither reverence nor disdain toward New Age: they exhume it instead, revealing the saccharine effervescence and commodified murk undergirding its aesthetics. The result is intoxicating—disquieting.

Born from a two-week residency at EMS Studios and expanded through a performance at MUTEK Montreal’s 25th anniversary, Corrosiv has since outgrown its original conceptual nucleus, taking on a broader scope. Its inquiry into New Age ideology’s voided rhetoric and aesthetic mysticism now informs a broader interrogation of cultural mediocrity, anti-authoritarianism, gatekeeping, music industry toxicity, and the crumbling edifice of late capitalism and techno-feudalism—all the mechanisms by which meaning is stripped from ceremony, and once-potent forms of knowledge are subsumed into the machinery of economic extraction, severed from their original essence, and transformed into hollow simulacra. Corrosiv distills these themes through a loose narrative: a soul, fixated on wellness as dictated by cosmetic economism, becomes ensnared in an endless afterlife, unable to transcend and shed its dilapidated consciousness.

Framed as an act of audio dissolution, the album thus engages in an alchemical process, whereby complex waveshaping, morphing synthesis, and distortion enact a ritual of fragmentation. There is also friction: between the rigid, mechanical imposition of systematized order and the untamed, chaotic force of organic metamorphosis. Here corrosion and confinement are not solely conceptual motifs; they are enacted in real time, sculpting the album’s terrain. Scraping, tarnishing, degradation—the languid wear of form and substance—become instruments in their own right: buffing as abrasion, entrapment as transformation, corrosion as a means of reconfiguration. The ‘protagonist,’ if there must be one, is the listener, caught within the throes of structural determinism and the potential for emancipation, unable to pass into something greater as the specters of collapsed futures accumulate in the margins.

Corrosiv extends its reach through collaborations with familiar voices: Heith (PAN), VISIO (Haunter), Femminielli (Drowned by Locals), Habib Bardi (Interzone), and Jiyoung Wi (Enmossed, Psychic Liberation, Doyenne) each leave their imprint on its sprawling landscape. At 1h16m, it is a procession, dense with earworms that burrow into the listener’s unconscious.

Misshapen, broken-down metals leach copper into blood, acid reflux burning through the core. Psyche disaggregates into cosmic turmoil, drifting between planes—tongue on rustline, gullet laced with solvent hymns, molars unlatching, bitcrushed to marrowspill. A spasm of brine, ferrous scripture, venomtext blooming in leaden rivulets, cartilage smoldering in phosphor decomposition, synapses drowning in a quicksilver choir. Crest of bile, churning ore, breath clotting into arsenic mist, vein-thread cinched, a corrosive gospel, limb by limb, oxidized to silence.

Ultimately, as the music exhales its final breath, its residue refuses to dissipate—and stillness alone remains. There are no conclusions here—no resolution, no collapse—only the slow drift outward of a vessel unmoored, lost in the sea of symbolic souring. Corrosiv sings the song of a world barren of prophecy, littered with aesthetic detritus. Whether this magic has been transfigured or simply worn away is unclear: the last breath dissipates, but the oxidation does not stop. The silence, too, will decay.

Conceptualized, composed, performed, recorded, mixed, engineered and produced by Jesse Osborne-Lanthier, and Asaël Richard-Robitaille in 2023 and 2024 at Elektron Musik Studion (EMS) - Stockholm, Sweden and Landsc8pe Studio - Montréal, QC, Canada.
Artwork by Jesse Osborne-Lanthier.
Mastered by Stephan Mathieu @ Schwebung Mastering.

Two tracks from Priori’s This But More album are reimagined through the emotive, minimalistic lens of Loidis — the alias of Brian Leeds (aka Huerco S., Pendant, West Mineral). These extended versions deepen the textures of the originals while amplifying their rhythmic core. Eyes closed, head down — dancefloor experiments in full effect.

With Harmonia, Trikk takes us on a rich, multi-faceted trip of club music. Spread across five singles, the project explores a wide spectrum of styles, tempos, and textures—all while staying rooted in the heart of the dance floor.

Sagrado marks the peak of the project, with Trikk once again on quality control. It hits the heart and essence of the project—club music to the core. The track begins with a tight framework of kick drum, claps, and a bubbling bassline, a welcoming foundation for the elements that follow. Gradually, it opens up into a wide musical sunrise, as Trikk demonstrates his sure instinct once more—balancing warmth with his distinctive style.



The project took off with Rigor, a peak-time statement that paired massive, tactile sound design with surprising moments of piano serenity—setting the stage for both bold and nuanced. Luxo followed, weaving together industrial grit and organic warmth, further expanding Trikk’s musical language. With Fortuna, the project stepped into the glow of summer, as Trikk joined forces with Kenyan vocalist Sofiya Nzau. The latest single Raiva unites two worlds, blending Trikk’s rhythmic, new-wave-infused sound with MEUTE's commanding brass power.



Harmonia is a carefully woven narrative of rhythm, design, and identity—an artistic statement built to move.

With Harmonia, Trikk takes us on a rich, multi-faceted trip of club music. Spread across five singles, the project explores a wide spectrum of styles, tempos, and textures—all while staying rooted in the heart of the dance floor.

Sagrado marks the peak of the project, with Trikk once again on quality control. It hits the heart and essence of the project—club music to the core. The track begins with a tight framework of kick drum, claps, and a bubbling bassline, a welcoming foundation for the elements that follow. Gradually, it opens up into a wide musical sunrise, as Trikk demonstrates his sure instinct once more—balancing warmth with his distinctive style.



The project took off with Rigor, a peak-time statement that paired massive, tactile sound design with surprising moments of piano serenity—setting the stage for both bold and nuanced. Luxo followed, weaving together industrial grit and organic warmth, further expanding Trikk’s musical language. With Fortuna, the project stepped into the glow of summer, as Trikk joined forces with Kenyan vocalist Sofiya Nzau. The latest single Raiva unites two worlds, blending Trikk’s rhythmic, new-wave-infused sound with MEUTE's commanding brass power.



Harmonia is a carefully woven narrative of rhythm, design, and identity—an artistic statement built to move.

OONA Recordings is proud to announce the upcoming release of the soundtrack for The Girl With The Needle by Frederikke Hoffmeier. Hoffmeier, whom performs under the stage name Puce Mary, brings a raw, intense and atmospheric score to this Oscar-nominated film, which is contending for Best International Feature. Known for her bold, experimental approach to sound, Hoffmeier’s composition immerses listeners in the film’s dark, emotionally-charged world. Directed by Magnus von Horn, The Girl With The Needle premiered at the Cannes Film Festival, where it earned praise for its uncompromising vision. The film went on to receive a Golden Globe nomination for Best Non-English Language Film and won two prestigious awards at the European Film Awards, including Best Score for Hoffmeier’s hauntingly powerful work. The score to The Girl With The Needle is as dark as it is compelling, a masterclass in creating tension, unease, and raw emotional weight. Hoffmeier’s sound design is equal parts abrasive and intimate, drawing the listener into a world of fractured beauty. Her use of organic textures, electro-acoustic undertones, and dissonant, atonal melodies challenges traditional notions of film music, offering something deeply visceral and unpredictable. The Guardian described Hoffmeier’s score as "nerve-abrading," highlighting the relentless, uncomfortable energy that underpins the film. The Chicago Reader similarly calls the score haunting, noting how it amplifies the film’s stark atmosphere. Drawing comparisons to the intense works of composers like Mica Levi, Awards Radar Magazine praises Hoffmeier for pushing the film’s emotional core to its breaking point, deepening the agony of the protagonist. Throughout the film, Hoffmeier’s score becomes as much a character as the people on screen. Her collaboration with von Horn is marked by a shared vision of pushing the limits of cinema and sound. Screen Daily describes the score as "daring," with its aggressive, contemporary tones standing in stark contrast to conventional film scores. The result is a uniquely modern, avant-garde work that reflects the film's visceral and unsettling nature. Hoffmeier crafts a world of sound that lingers long after the credits roll. The soundtrack’s fusion of organic instrumentation with electro-acoustic elements and bold industrial sounds sets it apart from the ordinary. The British Film Institute notes how Hoffmeier’s "atonal score" creates an "enervating effect," pulling listeners deeper into the film’s raw emotional depths. The combination of brutal sound design and haunting melodies builds a layered, evocative listening experience, one that grows increasingly intense with every listen.

Blue Sky Vinyl. Teethe is a band from Texas. The members of Teethe met while attending the University of North Texas in Denton, TX, a small college town outside of Dallas with a fertile music scene. Before forming Teethe, its core members Boone Patrello, Grahm Robinson, Madeline Dowd, and Jordan Garrett all played in various other groups in Denton, releasing music under different pseudonyms. Patrello released solo music via his Dead Sullivan moniker, while Robinson released under MAH KEE OH. Patrello and Robinson linked up with Dowd to record an album for her project, Crisman, in 2019. They all eventually moved in together, leading the group to start recording more as a whole unit, and subsequently Teethe was born.Made over the course of 2020, Teethe's eponymous debut album is a collection of songs pieced together over time - a sonic collage of fragmented recordings and half finished tracks made whole in the midst of isolation. Initially self-released in November of 2020 with little fanfare, the album's warm, lo-fi aesthetic and slow, calming songs spread by word of mouth. Roughly one year later, at the top of 2022, the band returned with "Tag", a new single that caught the attention of slowcore fans and garnered shout outs from unlikely celebrities. Tours soon followed with Charlie Martin of Hovvdy, Momma, Milly, Waveform, and They Are Gutting A Body of Water. The band continued to record their own music, releasing another single, "Lucky," in the fall of 2022, and most recently partnered with Saddle Creek for their 7-inch series to release their newest single, "Moon," in October of 2023. Now spread between Dallas and Austin, the Texas band has recently signed with Winspear and will be re-issuing their self-titled debut LP this winter, along with a pressing of "Tag," "Lucky," and never before released b-side "Thanks" on 7-inch vinyl.

12" EP. Azmari is thrilled to announce the release of their fourth opus, 5-track EP 'In Oculis'. The EP is a reflection of the band's collective desire to reinvent themselves. With a more minimalistic approach, the four musicians have created an eclectic, intense, and vibrant body of work, recorded during various residencies in Belgium and abroad. The result is a fusion of genres that range from powerful grooves to cinematic jazz, from floating melodies to entrancing soundscapes.

For this new project, Azmari teamed up with a long-time collaborator, Guillaume Souffrice (alias Mosso Mosso), who had already been Azmari's guitarist in the band's early days. Souffrice's expertise as a music therapist and multi-instrumentalist, combined with his passion for cross-cultural rhythms and melodies, adds a new depth and dimension to the band's sound.

Souffrice's extensive travels have taken him from Iranian Kurdistan, where he studied the daf (a large frame drum used in Sufi ceremonies), to northern India, where he immersed himself in the modal subtleties of the shehnai (Indian oboe). His love for psychedelic guitar tones and the classic wha-wha pedal remains at the heart of his musical approach, creating a fusion of tradition and experimentation.

The EP opens with 'Night Plants Can Run,' a track that starts with a rhythmic loop on the Berimbau, a Brazilian percussion instrument traditionally used in Capoeira. The song offers a steady, groovy journey between Rio de Janeiro and Sarajevo, with a guitar theme doubled by the saxophone, all underpinned by a deep 4/4 groove. The middle part of the track introduces a lot of percussion (an Azmari signature move) that gives a sense of urgency and chase, inspired by the band's experience playing the track in the studio, imagining a pursuit through the depths of the Amazon.

Next, 'Disassembling the Matrix' takes listeners on a 9/4 march that feels both elusive and powerful. Born from a jam session where an arpeggiator loop wouldn't stop, the band decided to continue with it, highlighting the beauty of a spontaneous creation once again. 'Lizzard's Dream' is a guitar-driven trip that gradually intensifies in energy. The song surprises with a sudden groovy break - a moment that was initially the core of the track - before returning to its soft and introspective theme, closing out the A-side of the vinyl.

The fourth track, 'Eyelights,' was born from the shores of Vevey Lake in Switzerland. It reflects the result of a long period of mental observation and rhythmic exploration. Three different time signatures were used to create the song's intro, which comes together as they go along. The melody loops with a peaceful and nostalgic vibe, creating a dreamlike atmosphere. Under the direction of Frederik Segers, who produced the EP, 'Eyelights' takes on a cinematic feel, with classical upright piano sounds that are a first for Azmari.

The EP closes with "17th Tiger Print," which takes us to the banks of the Ganges. Souffrice's shehnai leads the track into a hypnotic, hallucinatory dimension, where the interplay between his instrument and the baritone saxophone creates a textured, mystical atmosphere. This track encapsulates the essence of Azmari, a sound that bridges cultures and emotions in a minimalist yet highly effective way.

'In Oculis' marks another milestone in Azmari's musical evolution, blending the band's signature style with new influences and experimentation. Whether you're a longtime fan or new to their sound, this EP promisesto take you on another ride around the world.

"Movements of Air" is the highly anticipated fifth album from Daniel Herskedal's acclaimed trio, featuring Eyolf Dale on piano and Helge Andreas Norbakken on drums and percussion. Marking his tenth remarkable release with Edition Records, this album seamlessly bridges his foundational trio debut, "Slow Eastbound Train," with previous masterpieces like "The Roc" and "Voyage."

Over the past decade, Daniel Herskedal has consistently pushed the boundaries of the tuba, crafting music that is both profoundly introspective and expansively cinematic. At its core, "Movements of Air" delves into themes of hope, the pursuit of a better future, and the very essence of musical creation. With masterful performances from all members and intricate compositions, Herskedal navigates the delicate balance between good and evil, war and peace. Tracks such as "The Olive Branch" and "Peace River Crossing" showcase his ability to create emotionally resonant soundscapes, while pieces like "Elements of Harmony" and "Harmonic Allusions" highlight his innovative approach to harmony and texture.

This album stands as a testament to Herskedal's extraordinary talent, transcending the traditional limits of his instrument to deliver music that is both emotionally compelling and artistically groundbreaking.

Daniel Herskedal's exceptional achievements further underscore his artistic prowess and versatility. His notable arrangement of"San Francisco (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair)" for the 2019 film "The Last Black Man in San Francisco," produced by Brad Pitt, was later featured in Coca Cola's global 'Open Like Never Before' advertising campaign. His extensive collaborations include performances with prestigious ensembles such as the BBC Concert Orchestra, the Royal Norwegian Navy Band, and the Russian Patriarchate Choir of Moscow. His collaborative project with Marja Mortensson won the Norwegian Grammy in 2019, and in 2021,he secured The Ambies Award for Best Original Score and Music Supervision for the podcast "9/12." Additionally, his work with artists like Keaton Henson and Emilie Nicolas on their album "Out of the Fog" further highlights his versatility and collaborative spirit.

ECMs bahnbrechende Präsentation von Soloklaviermusik war eines der genreverändernden Experimente der
frühen 1970er Jahre, und diese wunderschön aufgenommene Session, die Chick Corea im April 1971 im
Osloer Bendiksen Studio aufnahm, markierte den Beginn dieser neuen Entwicklung. Piano Improvisations
Vol. 1 hat längst den Status eines Klassikers erreicht. Es enthält mit ”Sometime Ago” einen Vorgeschmack
auf die reichhaltig melodische und lateinamerikanisch angehauchte Musik, die Chick ein Jahr später in der
ersten Return To Forever-Band einführen sollte, aber die meisten Stücke hier wurden einfach aus dem
Äther gezogen. Corea, so stellte sich heraus, hatte die unheimliche Fähigkeit, in Echtzeit vollwertige
Kompositionen zu formen. Corea: ”Dies war eine intensive Zeit der Entdeckung für mich. Die Aufnahmen
der Piano Improvisations sind spontan im Studio entstanden. Ich nahm die nächste Idee auf, die mir in
den Sinn kam, spielte sie ein und betitelte sie dann später. Das war damals eine neue Art des Schaffens
für mich. Ich war mir nicht sicher, wie das Ergebnis aussehen würde – aber ich hatte einfach Spaß
daran, es auszuprobieren, um zu sehen, was passieren würde…” Diese Begeisterung ist in der von Manfred
Eicher produzierten Aufnahme spürbar. Die Luminessence-Vinyl-Ausgabe von Piano Improvisations Vol.
1 erscheint in einem Gatefold-Klappcover mit Chicks eigenen Anmerkungen sowie einem Text von Neil
Tesser, der die Wirkung der Musik in ihrem historischen Kontext beleuchtet.

After a five-year hiatus, JKS makes a triumphant return to the iconic French label Molekul with a highly anticipated solo EP. Leading the release is the standout track, The Cult, a testament to JKSs evolution while staying true to the essence of his sound.

Built for the club, The Cult channels an undeniable sense of power through its driving rhythms and immersive energy. The tracks tribal undertones create an
almost ritualistic atmosphere, pulling dancers into its pulsating core. With expertly layered textures and a commanding structure, The Cult keeps the momentum
unrelenting from start to finish.

True to his roots, The Cult brings a distinct old-school vibe, laced with a plurality of influences that have defined his sound since the beginning. Its a journey through raw rhythm and immersive layers, a bridge between past and present, aimed squarely at making people move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

During the pandemic, The Ophelias transformed uncertainty into Spring Grove, their fourth album and most dynamic offering yet. Named after a Cincinnati cemetery, the album blends nostalgia with fresh perspective, reflecting on themes of relationships, identity, and power dynamics. Singer-songwriter Spencer Peppet draws from her OCD diagnosis during the pandemic and the clarity that comes with growing older, resulting in lyrics that explore the cracks and complexities of human connection.

Produced by Julien Baker, who adds lush textures and harmonies, Spring Grove marks a turning point in the band’s evolution. Recorded at Young Avenue Sound in Memphis, the album centers on the core quartet—Peppet, violinist Andrea Gutmann Fuentes, bassist Jo Shaffer, and drummer Mic Adams—with arrangements that balance cinematic intensity and delicacy. Gutmann Fuentes’s violin provides striking countermelodies, while Shaffer’s bass lines, inspired by doom metal, explore melodic depth. Adams’s drumming reflects his first project after transitioning, offering nuanced rhythms that blend power and tenderness.

With one queer and two trans members, the band has moved beyond the reductive label of an “all-girl” group, delving deeply into themes of womanhood and identity. Tracks like “Salome” and “Parade” examine power dynamics and friendship, while nature imagery in songs like “Cumulonimbus” and “Vulture Tree” mirrors lived experience. Across 13 tracks, the album’s cinematic and introspective journey scavenges the past for meaning, ultimately embracing transformation. On the closing track, “Shapes,” Peppet reaches serene acceptance, singing, “I see what’s coming after... a reflection in the water. I am rippling forever.”

Spring Grove captures the band’s evolution, offering a transcendent meditation on self-awareness, identity, and growth, leaving listeners with a sense of profound discovery.

Nadia Struiwigh returns to Blueprint for her second EP "The X1 Shift EP is more than a collection of tracks; it's a story, a refl ection of the shifts I've embraced, and the identity I'm uncovering at my core. I've always felt that music is storytelling, not boxes to be labelled. Whether through ambient textures, techno grooves, or experimental soundscapes, each genre represents a chapter in a bigger story.


The magic lies in weaving them together into something timeless and deeply resonant-much like the origins of electronic music. For me, the essence of being an artist is freedom-creating without limits and exploring the beauty of the unexpected.

This EP represents thatfreedom: the love of pushing boundaries, the courage to evolve, and the joy of stepping into the unknown. Every sound on X1 Shift is intentional, every transition meaningful, yet there's also room for spontaneity.
Technically, the EP features the tools and hardware that inspire me: the Korg Electribe (my heart), Yamaha DX200, NI Maschine+, Arturia Minifreak, and plugins from NI and Plugin Alliance.
These tools became the palette for painting this journey.

Thank you, James, for supporting this music and giving it a second round. Your belief in this, especially something a little out of the box, means the world to me!!
Here's to breaking free, telling stories, and creating from the heart.

After a health-induced hiatus, Popa Chubby, the legendary blues-rock guitarist, roars back with "I Love Freddie King," a heartfelt tribute album to the late great Texas Cannonball himself. Produced by Popa Chubby and Gulf Coast Records' executive producer Mike Zito, this 11-track masterpiece was recorded at G.B.'s Juke Joint and features contributions from an all-star roster of modern guitar heroes: Joe Bonamassa, Mike Zito, Christone "Kingfish" Ingram, Eric Gales, Albert Castiglia, Arthur Neilson, and V.D. King. Reflecting on the album, Popa Chubby calls Freddie King his lifelong muse, whose music "changed my soul forever." The album brings King's legacy roaring back to life, spanning his early instrumental hits, Shelter Records era, and more. With a core band of Mike Merritt (bass), Andrei Koribanics III (drums), and Mike DiMeo (keyboards), this record captures the sweat, soul, and unrelenting energy of Freddie King. Tracks like "I'm Going Down" (ft. Joe Bonamassa) and "Big Legged Woman" (ft. Christone 'Kingfish' Ingram) explode with fiery guitar work and passionate vocals. Other standouts include "She's A Burglar" (ft. Mike Zito) and "Hideaway" (ft. Arthur Neilson). Each collaboration brings something special to the table, making this album a must-listen for blues fans and guitar lovers alike. Despite battling a rare spinal disorder during production, Popa Chubby pressed on to create what he calls "a journey of love and homage." His raw determination, combined with the extraordinary talent of his guest musicians, resulted in a fitting tribute to Freddie King--the bridge between blues and rock, who forever altered the genre's course. The Texas Cannonball's legacy brought to life, grab your copy of "I Love Freddie King" today and let the blues thunder on!

With breakneck rifs and explosive dynamics already earning a formidable reputation for avant-garde post-metal quartet Telepathy, their fourth album `Transmissions' sees the band turn their gaze inward to explore the rich sonic landscape of their creative and cultural origins. A new arsenal of cinematic synth textures and alien soundscapes pushes the band's genre-defying ethos towards more nostalgic and introspective ter- rain as they come to terms with the unknown. The band's latest ofering `Transmissions' marks the culmination of four years of introspection, experimentation and revitalisation for Telepathy, representing the band at its expressive core. Inspired by faded photographs unearthed in the brother's family home and the surprise discovery of a long lost relic, `Transmissions' is a cluster of musical messages that hurtles between nostalgic snapshots of the past and the everyday chaos of the present. Amongst precious memories and family treasures, the Turek brothers stumbled upon a recording of the frst radio broadcast of statesman Jo'zef Pilsudski, widely regarded as the founder of modern Poland. The wonder and optimism in his voice, captured over 100 years ago, ignited an inspirational drive to refect this time- less sense of awe in the present by pushing their musical creativity further than ever before. This revolutionary reinvention is immediately apparent on the opening track and lead single `Oath', which poured efortlessly out of the band in just one day. A recreation of that famous radio transmission introduces eight formidable minutes of widescreen rifs, thundering drums and otherworldly synth work that simultaneously feels like the blink of an eye. Subsequent track `Augury' rises from the dying whispers of `Oath', signalling Telepathy's renewed focus on composition and storytelling. The sense of open space and weightlessness from the song's halftime groove, soaring guitar arpeggios and an audio sample declaring that "the answer lies in the future" pushes the band beyond the familiar into exciting, uncharted territory. FOR FANS OF Tool, Russian Circles, The Ocean (Collective), Hans Zimmer, Mogwai, Kokomo

With breakneck rifs and explosive dynamics already earning a formidable reputation for avant-garde post-metal quartet Telepathy, their fourth album `Transmissions' sees the band turn their gaze inward to explore the rich sonic landscape of their creative and cultural origins. A new arsenal of cinematic synth textures and alien soundscapes pushes the band's genre-defying ethos towards more nostalgic and introspective ter- rain as they come to terms with the unknown. The band's latest ofering `Transmissions' marks the culmination of four years of introspection, experimentation and revitalisation for Telepathy, representing the band at its expressive core. Inspired by faded photographs unearthed in the brother's family home and the surprise discovery of a long lost relic, `Transmissions' is a cluster of musical messages that hurtles between nostalgic snapshots of the past and the everyday chaos of the present. Amongst precious memories and family treasures, the Turek brothers stumbled upon a recording of the frst radio broadcast of statesman Jo'zef Pilsudski, widely regarded as the founder of modern Poland. The wonder and optimism in his voice, captured over 100 years ago, ignited an inspirational drive to refect this time- less sense of awe in the present by pushing their musical creativity further than ever before. This revolutionary reinvention is immediately apparent on the opening track and lead single `Oath', which poured efortlessly out of the band in just one day. A recreation of that famous radio transmission introduces eight formidable minutes of widescreen rifs, thundering drums and otherworldly synth work that simultaneously feels like the blink of an eye. Subsequent track `Augury' rises from the dying whispers of `Oath', signalling Telepathy's renewed focus on composition and storytelling. The sense of open space and weightlessness from the song's halftime groove, soaring guitar arpeggios and an audio sample declaring that "the answer lies in the future" pushes the band beyond the familiar into exciting, uncharted territory. FOR FANS OF Tool, Russian Circles, The Ocean (Collective), Hans Zimmer, Mogwai, Kokomo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bandler Ching makes a bold return from within the vibrant, Brussels music scene with their sophomore album, Mercurial. In this latest offering, the band edges even closer to the ever-evolving world of electronics and dance music while retaining the improvisational spirit that has always defined their sound at its core.
On Mercurial, the band navigates the fringes of industrial trap, while expertly bending and pushing the possibilities of their instruments. Ambroos De Schepper's saxophone transcends its traditional role even more, becoming a dynamic, shapeshifting entity capable of evoking haunting melodies one moment and otherworldly harmonies the next. Federico Pecoraro's bass transforms into ethereal ambient pads that drift through the mix like vapor, adding depth. Meanwhile, Olivier Penu's drums form the rhythmic backbone, laying down eclectic grooves that defy the constraints of any single genre, merging seamlessly from trap to electronica, hip-hop, and beyond.
Known for their ability to blend disparate genres and experiment with textures, Bandler Ching forges a new instrumental language, one that feels untethered to convention and free from classification. It's not a genre-crossing experiment-but a daring move towards a new instrumental genre in the digital age.
Fans of experimental electronic icons like Aphex Twin, Squarepusher, and Ceephax Acid Crew will find much to admire in the upcoming Mercurial album- it's a next step in pushing to a new musical territory and boldly casting off the jazz genre in the process.
It's been two years since Bandler Ching first released their debut album Coaxial on Sdban Ultra. Kicking off the album campaign with an album release show in Volta, the Brussels hotbed for a new generation of Belgian artists. What followed was a series of concerts in key venues and festivals across Belgium and the Netherlands to honorable reviews in national and specialized press.

VETO aus Süddeutschland starteten Anfang der Achtziger als Hardrockband mit deutschen Texten. Nach einigen Besetzungswechseln und einer Neuausrichtung in Richtung englischsprachigem Heavy Metal, bekam man einen Plattenvertrag bei der Firma GAMA (Label: Scratch). Mangels Schlagzeuger übernahm diesen Posten einer der beiden Labelbosse persönlich: Peter Garattoni.

Das Debüt “Veto“ erschien 1986 und wurde von den Fans und der Presse wohlwollend aufgenommen. In Folge spielte man unter anderem mit Bands wie Saxon, Vengeance, Lee Aaron, Warlock, Sinner und Grave Digger. Das zweite Album „Carthago“ wurde im Stuttgarter Zuckerfabrik-Studio aufgenommen und gehört heute zu den absoluten Geheimtipps der German Metal Szene. Nicht nur, dass die Band an sich mit überdurchschnittlichen Fähigkeiten ausgestattet war, sie konnten auch mit packenden Songs zwischen Hardrock und Speed Metal überzeugen. Dazu eine knackige und druckvolle Produktion, die so manch Majorlabel damals nicht geboten hat.

Mit dem Titelstück “Carthago“ gelang VETO zudem ein episches Meisterwerk. Die Ankündigung einer wertigen Wiederveröffentlichung von “Carthago“ auf Golden Core hat in der Metalszene bereits Staub aufgewirbelt und in den sozialen Medien für positive Reaktionen gesorgt. Die remasterte CD enthält als Bonus das gesamte Debütalbum “Veto“, sowie das rare und spannende Drumsolo “Thunderstorm“ von Peter Garattoni, welches als Veto-Song auf einer heute raren Metal-Compilation aus den Neunzigern zu finden ist. Die LP, separat für Vinyl gemastert, enthält als Bonus zwei Songs vom Debüt und ebenso “Thunderstorm“. Beide Formate beinhalten Liner Notes und viele rare Abbildungen.