Suche:crumbling ghost

Within the broad church of metal and its many offshoots – rock, doom, stoner and all the rest – it remains a minor thrill to stumble across a group who seem to exist at a slight tangent to everything else. Crumbling Ghost is one such anomaly. Crumbling Ghost are not newcomers. They've been operating for some time, releasing records sporadically, Four' is in fact their fourth release. Along the way they've accumulated a fervent coterie of followers, not to mention the occasional nod of approval from tastemakers such as Stuart Maconie, Stewart Lee and Tom Ravenscroft. And though they've appeared at Roadburn, shared stages with Hawkwind and even Damo Suzuki, they remain (possibly by design) curiously under the radar.
The group's core idea is deceptively simple: traditional folk material refracted through the haze and heft of heavy, fuzzy stoner rock with a chunk of psyche and a smattering of doom. But crucially, this is done without the costumery and theatrical tics that often accompany such collisions. No mock pagan pageantry, no graveyard cosplay, no cartoon Satanism.
What Crumbling Ghost latch onto is not folk as a museum piece, but as a lived experience, the dramas rooted in the culture, stories, and daily lives of ordinary people, the folklore, the tales of love and death, murder and adultery, freedom and oppression. Singer Katie Harnett says. "Doting mothers, possessive, violent partners, vulnerable women, seasonal workers and Royal scandals this album is our representation of the trials and tribulations of human existence and universal experiences that still feel relevant today.

Guitarist John adds. "Themes of murder, betrayal, loss, jealousy, and love are found across the record. In particular, the songs of Martin Carthy have been a particular source of inspiration".
The result is a set of murder ballads, supernatural reckonings and cautionary tales, all wrapped in slabs of heavy, thumping fuzz and atmospheric sonics. Harnett's voice sits at the centre: unmistakably folk rooted, but shorn of prettification, melodic yet capable of real bite.

The album opener 'Bows Of London' is a murder ballad of sisterly hatred and grim sibling rivalry, centred on a haunted fiddle fashioned from a dead sister's bones. The loping relentless, hypnotic backing chillingly and perfectly accompanies the narrative. Of course, the story doesn't end well. 'Bill Norrie' follows, a hooky melody propelled by an insistent bassline and a haunting psych tinged haze punctured with sheets of noise.. The story of young Bill Norrie who sends a token to a married woman, whose jealous husband beheads him, without knowing he was his wife's son from an earlier affair. An instrumental palate cleanser arrives in the shape of 'Valtz Efter Tor Lohne' a Norwegian traditional the band jokingly describe as a "banger".
Then we have 'Lovely Joan' which offers a rare note of sly triumph: a quick witted woman outmanoeuvres a predatory nobleman, escaping with his ring and his horse. Muscular riffs give this tale of empowerment a welcome sense of teeth. 'Gower Wassail' is a traditional Welsh folk tune that captures the raucous spirit of communal ritual, noise making and drink fuelled hope for a good harvest. Captured perfectly here by CG complete with wah wah guitar and a drunken groove catching the song's celebratory chaos. Then we have a little gem in 'Last Of All Sleep' , an original band composition and a genuine highlight: a heavy lidded, shoegaze tinged folk reverie, equal parts distortion and delicacy. It's a drop-dead gorgeous shoegaze-tastic psychedelic grunge mini epic. The album closer 'The Unquiet Grave' is a very apt place to finish. It's about a young man whose constant grief at the death of his true love disturbs her eternal sleep so she cannot rest. Even though the playout on this track, complete with a demonic repeated riff and feedback feels suitably bleak, even this song allows a glimmer of release ... we think.
And there we have it, 7 songs, 7 worlds, all honed to perfection by producer Wayne Adams (Green Lung/Big Lad) that will reward every repeated listen.

Folk and metal/heavy rock do have a connection of course, just look at Green Lung and their 'folk horror' infused musical universe, but Crumbling Ghost are a very different beast.
'Four' amply and beautifully demonstrates that when it comes to 'folk horror' there's nothing quite as horrible as folk ... Here, the horror such as it is, and it must be said, the moments of light, comes not from theatrics, but from the songs themselves – which, after all, is where it's always lived.
Crumbling Ghost are John Mosley – Guitar / Donny Hopkins – Guitar / Ruth O’Loughlin – Bass / Katie Harnett – Vocals / Matthew Atkins- Drums.

Water Machine is an office romance between Hando Morice (they/them), Flore de Hoog (she/her), Jimmy Gage (he/him) and Goda Ilgauskaitė (she/her). An unassuming supergroup formed out of Glasgow institutions including Goth GF, Passion Pusher, Brenda and Soursob, their sound careens between punk, country and alt-rock underpinned by the unique quality they call “Raw Liquid Power”.
Following last year’s self-titled demo tape on Gold Mold Records, and fresh off of shows with the likes of Holiday Ghosts, The Cool Greenhouse and The Orielles, as well as a rollicking Viagra Boys afterparty, the four-piece will release their highly-anticipated first studio effort ‘Raw Liquid Power’ on Upset The Rhythm on August 4th.
The EP opens with a menacing, modulating synth melody. Gage’s guitar enters with a mighty bend before breaking into the chugging rhythm of ‘Water Machine Pt. 2’. This timely reminder to refill your water bottle - “don’t be late, hydrate!” less a wellness mantra than a threat - builds to a spacey outro with flashes of the art-punk weirdness of Suburban Lawns. ‘Stilettos’ marches on indignantly with a spiky riff punctuated by Ilgauskaitė’s cowbells. Staccato talk-singing tells a playful tale of stray cats following you home, but belies a darker subtext as the breakdown gives way to paranoid duelling guitars evoking The Fire Engines.


The anti-anthem ‘At the Drive In’ skewers joyless DIY crowds, reminiscent of much-missed Glasgow punks Breakfast Muff. Water Machine’s irrepressible sincerity can’t help but shine through in the final moments though, as jibes about “late night trade potential” give way to plaintive vocal harmonies. Morice tears public transport a new one on closer ‘Bussy’, a First Bus diss track bemoaning precarious employment amidst crumbling infrastructure. “That’s why I’m not on time!” they roar over de Hoog’s frantic, pounding bass, bringing the record to a skidding, screeching halt.

"I miss Conway. We all miss Conway. We miss him a lot. Things are not the same without him." Nick Cave

After 90 releases on Future Retro London, I feel like I need to take a bit of a break from the constant workload that's come from running the label on my own. I feel like 50 (the cat number for the main label releases) is a good number to pause on for now.

I've been doing some remixes of the back catalogue & thought that putting them all together on one release at some point would be an interesting concept, so here we are.

Thanks so much to all the supporters, artists, designers & everyone else that's been involved in keeping Future Retro London going for so long, couldn't have done this without each & every one of you.

The album opens with the ominous guitar-driven Hollow Sky, accompanied by its haunting music video's verdant vistas. The song, with Iceglass ghostly vocals, shimmers with that sounds like an Omnichord flittering like sonic firefly lights and brooding bass. This perfectly scores the less traveled wanderings through the dark wooden path of Dante's perdition, leading to the titular well that graces the album cover. The Crater opens with an unsettling riff and bass, with low, repetitive frequencies on the synth create a sense of unease. Here, Iceglass recounts a fatalistic requiem for the king of romance that is cataclysmic and leaves a scar upon the earth. With Fall Industrial Wall, once again, Iceglass channels a silky and Nico-like emotive deadpan; against a dirgelike melody backed by minimal synth, bass, and drum. Almost medieval and plaintive, with its folk droning horns, deep and shallow in their resonance. This song is anachronistic, setting the scene of ruins centuries-old with crumbling edifices strewn about like memories lost in time. With the poetic lyrics of The Chamber do we find the eponymous abyss. Here, dualities are laid bare; besides love, there is heartbreak, and without this sorrow, what meaning would there be to love if one knows not what it is to lose? This song encapsulates the idea that love is heartbreak, and love lost is reaching the deepest chamber of the heart. This is carried through a sombre horn, minimalist drum machine, and deliberate bassline overlaid with Iceglass german and english lyrics. The Well is led in with a softly distorted bassline overlaid with eerie banshee howls give way to Iceglass otherworld vocal refrain, echoing through time as if emanating from a hole in the ground, and encircling that hole is a garden of woe and despair. The sinfully seductive song The Moor features a captivating SAX SOLO courtesy of Perseas; a welcome shift in tone, juxtaposed well with the intensity of Iceglass tenebrous vocal purr. This hitherto unexplored foray into dark sensuality takes the song into sordid mid 80s territory, bringing to mind a dusky drive along a serpentine road, with equally haunting instrumentations straddling time with icy fire. Broken Characters is an acoustic folk interlude featuring Selofan's Dimitris Pavlidis on guitar. Here we find a more gentle approach with its earnest and romantic lyrics. The song's melodic hook is a soft caress along with the forlorn horn elements highlighting Iceglass at her most Nico-sounding vocal yet, singing the sorrowful truth that most artists are indeed broken characters. Chimerical opens with dirgelike synth organs. The chill of winter has befallen the lamentations sung by Iceglass carried by haunting chord progressions and minimal percussion, plaintively beseeching the song's subject to remain elusive, idealistic, and a dreamer. After an album highlighting more Jill than Jack, our male protagonist finally makes his ascent in the sonorous and breathtaking Dark Hill, a masterful march of sweeping synth horns, and trepidatious drum machine with William Maybelline's bellowing voice cracking like thunder, rattling the atmosphere like his heart against his ribs. Spirals swirls in a cautionary knell of cathedral-esque droning synth dirge, with Icarian lyrics shining like a sombre ray of hope; like the sun's rays creeping into the darkest of places. The song, minimalist in its tight percussion, echoes with the solace of Larissa Iceglass vocal litany; invoking elements of the supernatural, almost like a Casio preset sequenced to the beating of an angel's wings.

AF1268 is thrilled to welcome Nikol, the rising soundscaper from Manchester, for its third release. After making his mark on various outings for MASS, his own label, and O.C.D., this installment sees him deliver his first solo EP in full force. Across four meticulously crafted tracks, he chisels his own path through modern minimal and electro, honing his eerie yet hallucinatory sonic signature.

This EP unfolds like a spectral journey where Halloween meets tech-house—haunted by ghostly high-pitched whistlings, piercing acid stabs, and hypnotic rolling basslines. It conjures the image of a sweat-drenched, crumbling club cave under a rainy full moon, where bodies sway in slow motion, lost between dreamlike introspection and raw, unhinged grooves.

BEWARE! THE ECHOES OF DEATH’S HORRID CHANT ARE DRAWING CLOSER…From the endless fields of obsidian darkness rise eerie hymns, echoing an ancient, long-forgotten apocalypse that slices through the eternal night. OBSIDIAN SCAPES are the embodied nightmare – a deathly veil of cascading riffs, raining down like the lethal erosion of cosmic worlds. Layered with relentless, thunderous drums and ghostly dirges, their music summons visions of a dying universe.Their sounds crawl like molten madness into the depths of the mind, painting aphotic images of shadowy, chthonic cathedrals and titanic monoliths rising against a crumbling horizon. Despair and anguish permeate every note – dirges for a world drowning in the abyss of decay and tributes to powers lurking beyond human comprehension.Including one song from the upcoming debut-album Death Chants Echo From Aphotic Void and an unique and exclusive cover-version from SIGH’s “At My Funeral” (only available on the 12″EP).Mixed and mastered by Thomas Taube at FiveLakes Tonstudio.ltd 500, 300 x black vinyl, 200 x cream white bone. Incl. download-code. S

So Fades the Light is an eerie horror thriller that makes for unsettling watching. That is no small part thanks to the equally haunting score from composers Blair French (an ambient and Balearic producer from the Detroit area) and Dave Graw (a fellow Motor City musician and visual artist), who forgo melody in place of atmosphere. It means their soundtrack is a living, breathing presence that's less about music a more of a sort of ghost that refuses to leave. Graw and French sculpt a world of distortion, static and whispered tones that feel dug out of crumbling ruins. It’s bleak, patient and unrelenting, always pulling you deeper into the lead character Sun’s fractured memories and the menace of her past. As a standalone release, it’s equally gripping: a record that blurs ambient, horror and noise into one oppressive atmosphere.

So Fades the Light is an eerie horror thriller that makes for unsettling watching. That is no small part thanks to the equally haunting score from composers Blair French (an ambient and Balearic producer from the Detroit area) and Dave Graw (a fellow Motor City musician and visual artist), who forgo melody in place of atmosphere. It means their soundtrack is a living, breathing presence that's less about music a more of a sort of ghost that refuses to leave. Graw and French sculpt a world of distortion, static and whispered tones that feel dug out of crumbling ruins. It’s bleak, patient and unrelenting, always pulling you deeper into the lead character Sun’s fractured memories and the menace of her past. As a standalone release, it’s equally gripping: a record that blurs ambient, horror and noise into one oppressive atmosphere.

It’s time. Miami’s son, Nick León, is set to release his highly anticipated album “A Tropical Entropy” en su casa, TraTraTrax. After two #1 tracks of the year, “Xtasis” and “Bikini,” Nick expands his "Arquitectronica" sonic universe to an exploration of decay, disillusionment, and psychedelia.
Inspired by Joan Didion’s novel ‘Miami’ and his unique energy, as well as altered states of consciousness—both chemically induced and sleep-deprived—the album reflects León’s personal experience of witnessing life and love fall apart against the backdrop of a crumbling society. The album is a manifesto from start to finish featuring stellar collaborations with Ela Minus, Casey MQ, Erika de Casier, Xander Amahd, Jonny from Space, Esty & Mediopicky, and Lavurn.

You'll find hazy tracks for the body and the mind; tracks to dedicate and feel deeply; tracks for heartbreak and tracks with the promise of future love. You will find themes of memory, sleep deprivation, decaying wildlife, and the suburban still life of Florida. “A Tropical Entropy” captures the haunting feeling of watching life unfold like a broken video recording—frozen in the orange hue of a never-ending sunset, signalling the final days of an apocalypse. In the meantime, León and TraTra will continue to establish their influence on the global circuit and their mission to keep releasing edgy music that connects la mente con el qlo.

Cindytalk is the mercurial, expressionist outlet of Scottish artist Cinder, inspired by the crossroads of exploratory UK post-punk and early European industrial. Her work thrives on chance and transformation, collaging elements of noise, balladry, soundtrack, catharsis, and improvisation. "We were trying to find our own space," says Cinder of the formative period Camouflage Heart emerged from, amidst a move from Edinburgh to London and Cinder's evolving exploration of gender identity, well before culture at large was equipped to understand. With contemporary discourse we see that the project manifested her transgender ideas as visceral music. The guttural, feral sound marked a notably darker turn from The Freeze's sixyear run on the fringes of punk. Changing the project's name became vital, not just because they kept hearing the former was already taken, but the desire to embody the spiritual and sonic shift, "to uncover new pathways_to feminize it," she says. Cinder, with bandmates David Clancy and John Byrne, arrived at Cindytalk, a winking nod to Sindy, the British fashion doll rival to Barbie known then for its pull-string talking mechanism. "The goal was to have a more interesting narrative, more interesting dialogue. Music was ultimately my only way of talking to people. That was my conversation with the world, an abstracted conversation_an attempt to make some kind of tiny, tiny mark, if possible, you hope somebody will notice." Over the years, Cinder has heard from fans who did pick up on the signals and find refuge in Camouflage Heart. Camouflage Heart plays with tension and pace, from creeping to feverish to claustrophobic. The percussion moves between restless marches and barely-there pulses; for some parts, they scratched and hit a tin bath, among other objects. Guitar lines vibrate and stab as Cinder contorts her voice freely. She pulls poetry from a cerebral abyss, like "make the snake in your eye, pierce the camouflage heart" on the slow-droning centerpiece "The Spirit Behind the Circus Dream." In that register is raw power, both vulnerable and menacing, an ability to locate something deep and emotionally charged within. "I still remember that person who was way too intense for their own good," Cinder reflects. "I couldn't make a record like that now, certainly not vocally, while that anger hasn't dissipated; there's still a kind of warrior." For all the destruction and disintegration of Camouflage Heart, Cinder maintains the objective was never full-on fatalistic; these songs seek not to destroy but to poke and provoke, to transform and heal, to find cracks of light in a crumbling world. She points to the last lines of the opening track, "It's Luxury": "Don't look down," the lyric pines through static and rhythm. Cinder extrapolates, "I'm essentially saying, just keep fucking going. As time went on, for me, that falling became flying. Camouflage Heart is the beginning of believing in flight."

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.

Oliver Cherer is back with a new Gilroy Mere record which follows on from his other much lauded Clay Pipe releases (The Green Line, Adlestrop and last year’s D Rothon collaboration, Estuary English).

Over the last two decades Ollie has released numerous collections of music in an ever shifting array of modes, from folktronic, singer-songwriter styles through psychogeographic electronica to jazz-tinged, confessional ghost-pop and most recently, the “guitar tainted machine rock disco” of Aircooled.

Gilden Gate is an album of two halves. Side 1 ‘Rising’ celebrates the sun-drenched beaches, pastures and heaths of rural Suffolk, whereas Side 2 ‘Falling’ explores the underwater world of the lost city of Dunwich and its five church spires.

Oliver says:-

“A few years ago I discovered the lost city of Dunwich. I’d made a trip to Suffolk to shoot a short film about Sizewell Nuclear Power Stations and stayed in the old Coastguard’s Cottage on Dunwich Beach within sight of Minsmere Nature Reserve and the power plants. It’s a wild, sleepy place of pines and heath and North Sea winds and a strangely mysterious air – Sutton Hoo is nearby and Eno’s reference to the very beach that I was staying on made perfect sense. In the small museum at Dunwich I learned that this tiny hamlet had once been a major medieval city of international trade. It seemed unlikely and even now, knowing Dunwich as a small village, I find putting what I know about the place into perspective as a city a certain kind of impossible.

It seems that over a period under the influence of the weather, natural erosion and market rivalry the thriving harbour port was inundated by the North Sea and eventually slipped into and under it. The city of churches was lost and all the spires engulfed and toppled. What remains are the few houses, and the ruin of Greyfriars crumbling inexorably down the cliff and exposing the bones of buried monks as the graveyard follows the building’s stones into the sea.

There are local legends surrounding the site including stories of fishermen hearing the bells of lost churches and seeing the ghostly, lighted city beneath their boats as they return to the shore.
Gilden Gate is named for one of the entrances to the old city and is a musical meditation on Dunwich past and present. Frances Castle’s beautiful sleeve art depicts the surface and the sub-marine, the warm and the cold, the past and the present. The glass rises and the glass falls and in the background there are sirens, fog horns, church bells and Eno, and on the sea bed there are the scattered remains of a once great city.”

Gilden Gate is named for one of the entrances to the old city and is a musical meditation on Dunwich past and present. Frances Castle’s beautiful sleeve art depicts the surface and the sub-marine, the warm and the cold, the past and the present. The glass rises and the glass falls and in the background there are sirens, fog horns, church bells and Eno, and on the sea bed there are the scattered remains of a once great city.”

Treviso, Italy-based two piece Kill Your Boyfriend will release their fourth album 'Voodoo' on October 14th via Sister 9 Recordings (Europe), Little Cloud Records (North America) and Shyrec (Itay). A frantic and hypnothising bacchanalia of Psych & Industrial tinged soundwaves, the new album is a collection of reverb laden necromantic charms, summoning the souls and bones of the greats in the Rock & Roll pantheon of the 1950s. The duo delivers such glittery dark enchantment via 7 hoodoo hymns, travelling with a crumbling, ghostly and magically whizzing Rocket 88, in the company of Marie Laveau and madame Lalaurie. It's a relentless whirl of Voodoo-Psych, Industrial-Billy, Electro-GrisGris, which you can dance to. The new LP follows 'Killadelica', where Kill Your Boyfriend had refined their debut signature sound, bridging the gap between the semi-obscure but hauntingly fascinating tradition of Veneto's Post-Punk (Death In Venice, Evabraun, Pyramids, etc.) and contemporary Psych-Nouveau. With 'Voodoo', Matteo Scarpa and Antonio Angeli, explore new genres and expand the sonic borders, without losing their original intent. They replace the synth bass with a bass-guitar, adding more fluidity and weight to a renewed and punchier rhythmic section. Electronic and acoustic percussion are fuller and heavier, and the band's new stomp-machine is a hyper-convulsive version of the saturated Rock & Roll and R&B drumming, from the cheap garage studios of 1950s indie labels. Sida A is the most Rock & Roll of the two, and it is inspired by Michael Ventura's essay "Hear that Long Snake Moan", which brought forward the idea that "the Voodoo rite of possession by the god became the standard of American performance in Rock’n’Roll" where the performers "let themselves be possessed not by any god they could name but by the spirit they felt in the music”. Each song invokes one or a set of the lost souls of the Rock & Roll era, with 'The Day The Music Died' referring to the infamous 3rd of February 1959. Side B descends deeper into the magic swamps of Creole magic, with music taking on a much more liturgical function, conjuring shamanic possessions via extra layers of tribal percussion. The band says of side B: "we see it as a one long ritualistic descent into a psychedelic underworld made of echoing voices, claustrophobic spaces populated by lost souls, enchanters and witchdoctors."

TRACKLIST 1. The King 2. The Man In Black 3. Mr Mojo 4. Buster 5. The Day The Music Died 6. Papa Legba 7. Vodoo

pink vinyl limited to 500
Insides’s music shimmers and tingles with the tantalising promise of a different direction that UK pop could’ve gone: future-facing and fresh, rather than nostalgic regurgitation.” Simon Reynolds, author and music critic, writing in  Euphoria re-issue liner-notes in 2019

“A sound still as dew fresh, dawn dazzled and shot through with luscious darkness as it was nigh on three decades ago.” Neil Kulkarni, The Wire, 2019

Insides are Julian Tardo and Kirsty Yates. They first recorded together in the early 90s as Earwig, and released an album, 'Under My Skin I am Laughing', which brought them to the attention of 4AD. Earwig morphed into Insides and  two further albums were released on 4AD’s Guernica imprint: ‘Euphoria' (1993) and 'Clear Skin' (1994). In 2019 ‘Euphoria' was reissued for US Record Store Day by Beacon Sound, and was hailed as a lost treasure by discerning outlets. 

'Soft Bonds' is Insides’ first release for 20 years. It’s the sound of heart-stopping slow motion, blood rushes, fingers digging into bruised flesh, and sleeping with clenched fists.

“We found some things that were recorded a long time ago. We added some things that have been haunting us for for years and recorded some other ideas that we’d just thought of. Recording started at home in 2012, and continued every now and then in our studio, on trains, in the Greek island of Naxos and while wandering around Cissbury Ring, Chanctonbury Ring and Devil’s Dyke in the South Downs. We finally walked away from the recordings in late 2019 and decided to release a small run of CDs and LPs on our own Further Distractions label.

'Soft Bonds' is about the past haunting the present, and gripping onto your crumbling sense of self. It’s informed by the spirit of This Heat/This Is Not This Heat, Patty Waters, Annette Peacock, Eartheater, Mhysa, Hailu Mergia, Scott Walker and Arca.”

The first track to be released, 'Ghost Music', was also the first to be finished and came about by scrapping the original structure, leaving only the trace elements. Working in the negative space that’s left behind, where rhythms are pulses and heartbeats and melodies are memories, it’s insistent, staring, but not shouting. Almost absent, or heard from another room. The video uses footage of Kirsty and Julian filmed and used in live shows in 1993 and cut with more recent footage from 2016. The past haunts the present.

“Pop loving the sound of itself to death. And hating the fact that it can’t stop loving.” Rob Young, The Wire, 1993

“...they seemed to be creating an entirely new version of pop. Their hooks were unmistakable, in that they triggered movement like perpetual-motion clockwork. Their grooves were sparse and spectral and nagged at you like breakbeats but made your heart and hair-follicles dance more than your feet. Their music was amniotic, ebbing and alive with iridescent melodic detail and lyrics that turned the turmoils and trauma of love into the sweetest searing honesty you’d been privy to since you first heard the Supremes.” Neil Kulkarni, The Quietus, 2011

When Elena Colombi launched the Osàre! Editions label in the autumn of 2019, she explained that the label would become home to bold, daring, future-facing music rooted in experimentation and free-spirited musical abandon. These are all descriptions that could apply to the label’s latest release, a retrospective album of little-known works by Greek musician and producer Thanasis Zlatanos.

Many will not have heard of Zlatanos, or Nekropolis, the band he fronted alongside dear friend and regular collaborator Trygve Mathiesen, yet the music he made during the 1980s was otherworldly, intergalactic and undoubtedly alluring. These songs and instrumentals made extensive use of analogue synthesizers and lo-fi drum machines, as well as Zlatanos’s trusted Gibson Les Paul guitar and his own distinctive voice.

Stylistically, the musician and producer refused to settle on a specific sound, preferring instead to create inspired, often mind-altering pieces that join the dots between wave music, skewed leftfield pop, ambient, prototype electronic and Madedonian folk music. Operating for much of the period from a crumbling house earmarked for demolition, Zlatanos kept up a daily music-making vigil that resulted in a vast vault of music, most of which has remained unissued since the 1980s.

The breadth of and width of Zlatanos’s distinctive approach is laid bare on Retrospective, a compilation album prepared by Colombi and the artist himself that draws on tracks from his numerous albums, those by Nekropolis – whose sophomore set “The New Europeans” was banned in Norway – and his epic archive of previously unheard material.

The artist’s singular but wide-ranging musical vision is free for all to see across the 13 tracks stretched across the vinyl version of the album (digital buyers also get a further four superb cuts). It veers attractively from the ghostly, traditional-meets-futuristic new age electronica of “The Crystal Sight (Excerpt)” and the doom-laden coldwave throb of “Master Chameleon”, to the undulating, soft-touch creepiness of “Surreal Moment”, the Vocoder-laden operatic poignancy of “The New Barbarians” and the squally guitar solos and effects-laden electronics of “The Light”.

Words from the artist___:
"I live in the Internet. Visits from outer space make me compose. I breathe here. I am the master chameleon, the psychedelic clown. I am not here anymore, neither in the picture, nor the reflection. Our bed is a boat that takes us tomorrow without us.

Here is an album of dreams and digital emotions. Analogue recordings made with a Prophet, a Moog Rogue, a tape recorder and a Gibson Les Paul guitar.

As far as I can remember I have always been in a recording studio. I listen to, understand and live my life through songs and music. I have worked alone and with friends such as Trygve Mathiesen. Although I am a guitarist, I continue to work with synthesizers on music that blends elements of Macedonian folk music, recordings from the streets and embryonic electronic sounds.

Some of my albums have been critically acclaimed, others banned by radio stations. For years I worked on endless recording sessions in a crumbling house that should have been torn down. The music on this retrospective compilation was recorded at various points between 1982 and the present day. Some of the compositions first appeared on previous albums, while others have never been released before. They were sat on tapes waiting for a saviour. Now that saviour has arrived and they can be free.

For further proof of Zlatanos’s unique sonic approach, check the startling contrast between the bass-laden slacker pop headiness of “No Expectations” and the spacey ambience of “The Dead Don’t Remember”. Considered together, the selected pieces and those elsewhere on Retrospective forms a snapshot of a genuinely unique and visionary musician, composer and producer. It’s a celebration of someone whose work has previously been overlooked."