Search:curio curio

"An undisputed Canterbury Scene classic for the first time in Half-Speed Mastered Edition. This 1978 critically acclaimed debut album from the supergroup National Health fused Progressive Rock with Jazz-oriented melodies to create the complex signature sound of one of the Canterbury Scene"s finest bands! The album features the outstanding talents of keyboardists extraordinaire Dave Stewart and Alan Gowen, virtuoso drummer and lyricist Pip Pyle, vocalist Amanda Parsons, guitarist Phil Miller and bassist Neil Murray. The music is essentially a fusion of contemporary classical sounds expertly performed by top-drawer rock and modern jazz players, aspiring to the highest level of musical curiosity and creativity. This half-speed mastered edition offers an unprecedented clarity and depth to the album"s already rich sound. The intricate details of each composition will shine, allowing long-time fans and newcomers alike to appreciate the technical prowess and inventive spirit that made National Health a Canterbury Scene milestone. First official vinyl reissue".

Don’t call it a sequel, it isn’t a Part Deux, ‘Pop Psychédélque: Les Extras’ is simply another slice of fine French Psychedelic Pop from Two-Piers, the label that brought you the groundbreaking compilation ‘Pop Psychédélique’ in 2021. L’es Extras’ is the perfect partner for the original and brings you a whole new bunch of quite simply brilliant pieces of French Pop and Psychedelic flavours from the 1960’s right up into the 2000s.

Pressed on Limited Edition Coloured vinyl for Record Store Day 2025 this is an essential purchase for anyone with a love of French Psychedelic Pop, or anyone who just loves great music for that matter.

‘Pop Psychédélique: Les Extras’ features some of the finest French pop divas of the 1960’s & 1970’s such as Jacqueline Taieb, Brigitte Bardot, Christe Laume, Brigitte Fontaine, alongside artists like Marie Laforêt’s wonderful take on the Rolling Stones ‘Paint it Black’, and the brilliant ‘Les Cactus’ by Jacques Dutronc. Fast forward to the 2010’s and we have tracks from the French Psych scene and lush curiousities from Brigitte, Étienne Daho, The Limiñanas and Ricky Hollywood added into the mix. This Record Store Day Vinyl release includes hard to find tracks on vinyl for the first time.

French Pychedelic Pop, a scene so joyous you can’t help but fall in love…. Les Extras anyone?

Ecstatic’s dreamiest cadets bliss out on a new album of acoustic and electric guitar, harmonium and synth tapestries, notably nestling a Romance cameo within a genteel toggle of atmospheric pressure.

Back on (side) road after releasing quietly acclaimed kosmische gem ‘I Had too Much to Dream Last Night’ back in 2021 and the lysergic lushness of ‘Listen to the Sky’ a couple of years later, Celestial suggest a more sublime return to earth with the shine-eyed wonders of ‘I Can Hear the Grass Grow’, an album that soothes to the supine in eight shimmering parts of pearlescent melodic motifs marbling harmonious backdrops intended to tenderly comb nerves straight.

The duo take their role as seductive sandmen with a curious melodic wit that leaves something to the imagination whilst nudging it along the album’s narrative thread. A courtly flamenco lick flickers in opener ‘The Endless Stair’, one of the most restrained recordings we've heard from the childhood friends; blessed with just a little reverb and echo, as if a mic's been lowered into some dimly lit basement while Celestial puzzle out mystifying, interlocking harmonies. It hits a mid-point between John Fahey's raga-inspired Americana and Vini Reilly's rain-soaked Northern blues - the emotion throbs from every note.

Celestial's music is never too polished, giving it the fuzzy, uninhibited flair of a long-lost mail order private press and instilling it with a level of humanity that's rare to discover in the new-new age. Even when mysterious labelmate Romance turns up to ornament 'Mermaid Boulevard' with backmasked electronics, it's their low-slung Ry Cooder-esque guitar/bass that provides the narrative anchor, while the title track and spongiform analog textures of ‘Song For The rainy Season’ dial it right down to a Harmonia-via-BoC pastoral sublime. Vini Reilly and Eno’s influence is most surely felt on the swaying elegance of ‘Sweet Sleep, Angel Mild’, with a central motif that lingers on the mind long after it’s stopped playing, whilst their closing couplet perfectly resolves the cycle with a melancholic kiss-off for the ages.

Pleaser’s musicality, ethics and community are undeniably punk, but their expression is vast and more personal than it is bound by the confines of any one genre. The band projects the heart-on-sleeve earnestness of early emo, the in-your-face vivaciousness of punk rock and a metal-tinged darkness, as well as infusing both classic rock and modern experimental elements into their own unique aural aesthetic. Songs are both catchy and impenetrable at the same time, with the band appreciating a pop hook just as much as a labyrinthine song structure. Pleaser chews it all up and infuses it with their own noisy but charming melodic rattle.
Double lead vocalists and guitarists Annie Nyvold and Suo Fei, drummer Oliver Nehammer and bassist Olle Bergholzall enjoy omnivorous taste in music, and a pure love for creative expression.
Pleaser’s 2023 debut was acclaimed internationally by media such as Cvltnation, Bandcamp and Maximum RocknRoll. Aligned with the release of their debut album, Pleaser played a wide range of concerts in Denmark, from underground punk shows to well established festivals such as Roskilde Festival, K-Town Hardcore Fest and Metal Magic. This sparked a new wave of attention and airplay on BBC Radio 6 Music, and led them to stages in Scandinavia and Germany.
With their new album more cohesive than ever before, Pleaser persists in experimenting with their catchy, yet aggressive and dynamic sound, heightening listeners’ emotions in the process. The forthcoming full-length presents a series of adventurous new punk songs, fusing their creativity with a new force of excitement and curiosity. This new universe revolves around the journey of self-exploration, liberation from inner darkness, and transcending that darkness to form new pathways.

Grails - the experimental rock institution who have cultivated a quarter-century career out of crate-plunging cultural curiosities - returns a mere two years after the lauded Anches En Maat with their most personal and emotionally resonant album to date. While the band still revel in rearranging bizarre and obscure sources into something often revelatory and surreal, Miracle Music does so with an ascendant melodic power that feels hallowed. The Miracle Music lineup includes cofounders Emil Amos (Om, Holy Sons, Lilacs & Champagne) and Alex Hall (Lilacs & Champagne), alongside returning members, AE Paterra (Zombi, Majeure), Jesse Bates, and Ilyas Ahmed. Produced by Amos, Miracle Music reunites the group with recording engineer Jason Powers and his Type Foundry studio in Portland, Oregon, where the earliest Grails records were made more than two decades ago. Replete with acoustic and electric guitars, synths, woodwinds, brass, samples, percussion - and featuring horn arrangements by Kelly Pratt (David Byrne, M. Ward) - Miracle Music unveils an exquisite new horizon for Grails. Creatively tireless as ever, Grails balance the boundary-pushing claustrophobia of early Industrial music with the airy melodies of Classical compositions to craft the heavy mood that is Miracle Music. In a catalog defined by mercurial departures, this is Grails' most sentimental and high-minded trip yet.

Grails - the experimental rock institution who have cultivated a quarter-century career out of crate-plunging cultural curiosities - returns a mere two years after the lauded Anches En Maat with their most personal and emotionally resonant album to date. While the band still revel in rearranging bizarre and obscure sources into something often revelatory and surreal, Miracle Music does so with an ascendant melodic power that feels hallowed. The Miracle Music lineup includes cofounders Emil Amos (Om, Holy Sons, Lilacs & Champagne) and Alex Hall (Lilacs & Champagne), alongside returning members, AE Paterra (Zombi, Majeure), Jesse Bates, and Ilyas Ahmed. Produced by Amos, Miracle Music reunites the group with recording engineer Jason Powers and his Type Foundry studio in Portland, Oregon, where the earliest Grails records were made more than two decades ago. Replete with acoustic and electric guitars, synths, woodwinds, brass, samples, percussion - and featuring horn arrangements by Kelly Pratt (David Byrne, M. Ward) - Miracle Music unveils an exquisite new horizon for Grails. Creatively tireless as ever, Grails balance the boundary-pushing claustrophobia of early Industrial music with the airy melodies of Classical compositions to craft the heavy mood that is Miracle Music. In a catalog defined by mercurial departures, this is Grails' most sentimental and high-minded trip yet.

Originally released on Ben Chasny's own Pavilion imprint in 2011.

"I was invited by the Incubate Festival and the city of Tilburg to participate in an artist residency where I would explore the region’s unique chapels built for the Virgin Mary. After writing the music for about six months by drawing on memories of the encounters with the chapels and using techniques inspired by Gaston Bachelard’s Poetics Of Reverie, I flew back to Tilburg to perform the music at the Incubate Festival. We recorded the evening and I released the result on my Pavilion label. Each cover was hand painted white on white in the old Pavilion style. I created a stencil and used graphite powder to make the design that is inspired by the sun imagery in Athanasius Kircher diagrams."

Roadside chapels express the identity of the inhabitants of North Brabant, a Dutch province, bordering on Belgium. Roman Catholicism has been the dominant religion in this southern part of the Netherlands since the eighth century. For about a century and a half this religion was strongly suppressed. Only when the French revolutionaries preached freedom of belief around 1800 could the people of North Brabant exercise their faith again. This was the start of a very strong emancipatory development from which a special form of the Roman Catholic faith arose that fully determined everyday life of the people here. This faith was the determining factor in life and the measure of all things. After the second Vatican Council (1962-1965) the reins of the catholic faith in Brabant were loosened as well. This was the start of a revolutionary process of secularisation. Within a decade hardly anything was left of the almighty influence of the Roman Catholic Church and this situation has lasted up to the present day.

In spite of the almightiness of the official, Vatican ruled, Roman Catholic faith, North Brabant has always and perhaps notoriously fostered an undercurrent of popular belief as well. This is a kind of belief in which elements of the official faith and age-old pre-Christian traditions are combined. Worshipping relics, holding pilgrimages and processions, the use of water from holy wells, popular art, recitations and songs, festivals, rituals, folk traditions, superstition and the like are all examples of popular devotion. These matters have strongly influenced and formed the identity of the present-day population of North Brabant. It is part of their immaterial heritage.

An obvious and still very much visible form of popular devotion are the roadside chapels. In Brabant some 400 can be found, most of which have been devoted to Mary. Chapels are small buildings in which Mary or other saints are worshipped. They can be found within villages or towns or in natural surroundings. Always at the finest spots! The beauty of the environment adds a primary religious or mystical feeling to the visitor. Local people attach great value to their chapels. In spite of the overall secularisation in society they are still at the centre of cultural and social life. Where people in North Brabant can hardly be found in the churches nowadays, this doesn’t mean at all they are no longer religious. On the contrary, religious feelings are perhaps stronger than ever, but now people have to find their own expression of them. That’s why they fall back on the age-old popular belief in which chapels play an important role. We can even witness new forms of popular belief with chapels as their focal point. An example of this is the scattering of ashes of people who have been cremated. Chapels clearly also play a role in the lives of young people. On an average five new chapels are added every year.

I have studied the popular culture and belief and the identity of the inhabitants of North Brabant for over thirty years. I have published over forty books on these subjects. In 2010 I was approached by the organisation of the Incubate Festival in the North Brabant town of Tilburg. Their request was for me to lead the American composer and guitarist Ben Chasny around a number of chapels in the province devoted to Mary. He had been invited to North Brabant to write some new compositions. Ben Chasny then chose to be inspired by these chapels and that’s how we met. I was especially curious how an American would react to something as specific and small as a roadside chapel in North Brabant, since we tend to think here of (people in) America in terms of ‘big-bigger-biggest’. Would an inhabitant of this enormous country with this prevailing culture be able to grasp and respect the identity of some 2.5 million people in North Brabant with their chapels? The answer to this question lies hidden in the compositions he made and that can be listened to on this album. Yes, Ben Chasny has been able to convert the phenomenon of a simple chapel devoted to Mary into music. The physical and the spiritual have found each other. What a beautiful world…just listen! - Paul Spapens

Sediment is an assemblage of field recordings made in the Swiss canton of Jura on a single day in August 2022. Jura's rock and limestone formations create a complex topology which hosts a diversity of sound spaces; human, more-than-human, geophonic, subterranean and extra-terrestrial. By walking and driving through this landscape curious pockets of activity are revealed to the listener. The layers of strata that make up Jura; earth, rock, forest, cables, pipes, factories, planes and radio towers inform the sound strata. These recordings incorporate and embrace these many layerings; the acoustic, radio, magnetic, vibrational, tectonic, resonant.

Over the course of a day Tim Shaw and Laurent Güdel followed their ears, they visited forests, mountains, rivers, hydroelectric plants, caves, radio broadcast towers, wind turbines, train tracks, sacred wells, man made tunnels and abandoned factories, harvesting sounds from this tangled and ever-changing soundscape. Using various listening devices they attempted to listen into the full spectrum of activity, hydrophonic, geophonic, air-pressure, electromagnetic and radio.

Sounds harvested include pieces of limestone being submerged into water, electromagnetic fall out from cell towers, the resonance of a limestone processing factory, VLF radio, the mechanisms of infrastructure, radio controlled airplanes and acoustic signals. These files are mixed and blended together to create a new stratification.

The final compositions were separately pieced together in each of the artist's studios using the collective corpus of recordings. The result is two different sonic interpretations of this layered, ancient and complex landscape.

Tim Shaw works with sound, light, and communication media to create performances, installations, and site-responsive interventions. His practice spans environmental sound art, digital media, media archaeology and walking. He frequently presents his work at festivals, in forests, caves, warehouses, up mountains, and in museums and art galleries all over the world.

Laurent Güdel explores analogue synthesis, phonography, and sound archives through multi-channel electroacoustic compositions, live performances, installations, and audio publications. His work explores the politics of sound, the means of production of early electronic music, and the archaeology of audio technologies, their infrastructures and institutions. He is also co-curator of Kopfhörer, a series dedicated to live experimental music.

Coming from a diverse background of equal amounts hip hop and rock, the producer behind the alias of nrl:ndr got into dance music late in his musical career. After playing in kraut-oriented bands like So Many Mammals, parts of that group reformed into the live techno outfit Tren Né, with the goal of fusing techno elements with live drums. Playing for illegal raves with a punk-like energy, nrl:ndr has cemented his relationship with his machines in service of the dance floor.

But his solo debut on blundar is quite far removed from that scene. To understand this music, one should be aware of the conditions under which it was manufactured. Reluctant to consider himself an artist in the traditional sense, nrl:ndr makes his music free of anticipation and without apparent goals. To glean into this outré musical space is like putting one's ear to the boarded up windows of the photograph that adorn the front sleeve.

The album makes extensive use of the Roland JV-2080, a sample-based synth rack from 1996 with a distinctly clean sound. Our producer dives deep into the expansion cards (labeled after genres like “Hip Hop” and “World”) for curious and sometimes cheesy samples. But he also forces the JV-2080 to do things which are not its forte, like the arduous task of programming decent kick drums.

Another technique that is testament to his experimental view on music making, is the idea of using sketches of unfinished tracks with different time signatures, and mash them together into something new - of which the results of one of these experiments can be heard on the closing track and its bilingual conversation between ambient and tribal.

Full of stunted rhythms and eerie melodies, the unclassifiable nature of the music of nrl:ndr lies somewhere in the vicinity of IDM, classical avant garde and private press synth. From the epic opening track - echoing the post-kraut drumming style of Michael Shrieve - to juggling with chopped up vocal samples and treading into almost trap-like territories on A4, he crosses into a multitude of genres without getting his hands too dirty with nostalgia.

“Growing up has always been a solitary journey, marked by forward-looking anticipation, anxiety, unripe potential, aspirations, and closures.”

London based Chinese composer and multi-instrumentalist Li Yilei returns to Métron Records with NONAGE, their second full length release following 2021’s OF. An introspective reflection on the journey through childhood, this new work brings together samples from old Chinese TV shows, mechanical children’s toys and an array of acoustic and electronic instruments - some of which were designed and built by Li themselves.

The Chinese title for "NONAGE" is "垂髫", which translates to “childhood” or “disheveled hair”, and refers to the carefree phase of life when children let their hair down, both figuratively and literally. For Li, nonage is a place that they always revisit - to learn about fear and fearlessness, love and despair, grief and glee, curiosity and mistakes.

“I remember pressing piano keys like touching flowers, reading scores like looking at paintings, writing like how I would talk to myself, greeting death like how I would greet life.”

Initially conceived as an archiving project, the record retraces and reimagines fractions of Li’s childhood memories through smell, location and colour, and brings to life the lingering feelings that remain into adulthood.

Compositions are built around a variety of unusual sources: damaged instruments such as a toy piano, a hand cranked music box, bird whistles, a broken accordion and anything else Li could find that evoked nascent recollections. Interspersed throughout are samples from Li’s childhood piano jams, moments of contemplative transmigration where previous incarnations of self and memory meet the present.

On the outskirts of the Parisian sprawl, we drift through the evening hush, our steps tracing the edges of a world half-lit.
The air crackles—charged, restless. Somewhere, we hear the city hums, a distant, roaring tide.
And there is this stranger, curious, starry-eyed, looking at us.
We stop, tilt our heads together, a faint smile :

« I scream, you scream ! Everyday is a new *silence*
It was all paradoxical
Fullness in the crisis

Silence is priceless »

Official Tracktitles:

me & who ?

hot zone, regular day

Fame Gang

GHOST GUNS

INVINCIBL

Forever starts today

indivisibl

i know 3 45

Stalker Guardian Angel

Get rid of yourself

it’s going better

Capital Collectiv

feeling the sun, it’s lit !

missing flowers i think

Restless Lovers

Gore Lore

Florilegium, the debut album from songwriter Uwade, winds through genre, through death, break-ups, friendship, and failure. Here, she wanted to honor as much of herself as she could — her family and Nigerian heritage, her scholarly tendencies, her background in choirs, the literature that moves her, the melodies of artists like Fela Kuti, Yebba, and Julian Casablancas of the Strokes, who inspired her to start writing songs at the inception of her music-making. Cerebral and curious, each musical moment feels tactile, deliberate, and thoughtful — but also fresh, like something just discovered. A shimmering anthology that finds sweetness and light in sorrow, an amalgamation of disparate influences and recording sessions seamlessly fitting together through her expressive, expansive voice.

Hailed by Pitchfork for his “ambient, intimate…songs that blossom gently with intricate musical details and enigmatic lyrics,” Conner Youngblood gained early acclaim with a series of self-released singles and EPs before breaking out internationally with his 2018 full-length debut, Cheyenne, which fused electronic and analog elements into a lush mix of bedroom pop and chamber folk. Youngblood toured the record heavily until 2020, when the pandemic forced him off the road and, hungry for fresh inspiration, he began enrolling in Russian, Danish, Spanish, and Japanese language lessons. He didn’t realize it at the time, but those classes weren’t just expanding his vocabulary, they were laying the groundwork for his most ambitious, experimental album yet: Cascades, Cascading, Cascadingly.
 
Written and recorded at home in Nashville, the collection is a dreamy series of meditations steeped in desire and yearning, loneliness and loss, exhilaration and escape. The lyrics blur the lines between fact and fiction, toying with magical realism and outright abstraction in various languages, and the arrangements are surreal and cinematic to match, hinting at everything from Cocteau Twins to Atoms For Peace. In addition to producing and engineering, Youngblood played every instrument on the album himself, and the result is a pure, unfiltered journey deep into the subconscious of a relentlessly curious artist, one with a boundless imagination and an insatiable appetite for sonic exploration. 

Belgian musician and filmmaker Jef Mertens has been an active force in the experimental music and film scene for nearly two decades. Known for his documentaries on artists like Sonic Youth and Borbetomagus, as well as his work with the now-defunct Dadaist Tapes label, Mertens continues to push the boundaries of sound exploration. His previous solo works include NO MATHEMATICS, released on KRAAK/Feeding Tube Records.

With Orchid Alto, Mertens dedicates himself to the taishogoto, a Japanese stringed instrument that became a new focal point in his sonic explorations. Initially drawn to its unique tonal qualities, he approached the instrument with an open-ended curiosity, using it as a means to reshape his musical language. The transition to taishogoto marked a shift away from guitar-based compositions, offering a fresh perspective on texture and resonance. Through these explorations, Orchid Alto serves as a blueprint for new sonic possibilities.

A bold and immersive sonic journey, Orchid Alto merges traditional resonance with modern experimentalism, further shaping Mertens' artistic voice—one influenced by artists like Michael Flowers, Turner Williams Jr., and Bill Nace.

A1 - Ocean Breeze

Kicking off the EP we have an understated 2-step banger from label head ASC as Ocean Breeze rips into your consciousness, positively bursting at the seams with a wonderful rolling break - make no mistake this track will make you and the dancefloor move. Building continually with a trademark subtle female vocal and wavy synthwork, Ocean Breeze is the perfect livener for any discerning atmospheric set.

A2 - Blue Planet

Straight into the action with a heavy break pattern, Blue Planet sees ASC experiment with deep, thunderous kicks and tightly edited, weighted snares set to take you higher - as the classic, recognisable vocal sample urges.Throughout the track we are treated to a darkly atmosphere created by thoughtful pads and effects which elevate the mix while the breaks make the most of their headline billing to the end.

B1 - Cyclic Nature

Continuing the break focussed approach to the EP, ASC unleashes a break heard right at the start of Spatial's history in Force Majeure - in fact this piece began life as a remix of that very same track, before taking on its own identity and becoming Cyclic Nature. Intense and hot-blooded, dense analogue kicks battle echoing drums and subtle melodies to form a wonderfully constructed atmosphere we just can't get enough of.

B2 - Shapeshift

Dialling back the intensity, Shapeshift is introduced more gradually this time with a DJ-friendly cymbal driven intro, with curious clicks and sound effects jostling over a mellow synthy backdrop. Before long a relaxing old-school break enters the mix while textured pads fluctuate with inquisitive jolts of melodic energy, elevating Shapeshift to become quite the memorable EP closer indeed.

Words by Chris Hayes (Spatial / Red Mist)

Mint Green Vinyl. Graham Jonson is drawn to the comforts of melody and noise. How the two conspire in tension, tonally and atonally, stirring up memory and mood. This quality animates the technicolor world of quickly, quickly, the psych-pop project that emanates from Kenton Sound, his basement studio in Portland, Oregon. "Everywhere your eye lands, there's another curio to marvel over," noted Pitchfork's Philip Sherburne when he visited Jonson's recording space for a Rising feature just after the release of his "strikingly original" 2021 debut LP, The Long and Short of It. Since then, Jonson formed a live band, released his Easy Listening EP in 2023, and navigated the up-and-downs of a young musician, the sustainability of tours and relationships. While shaped by personal bouts and fallouts, his highly-anticipated full-length follow-up finds Jonson making music that's universal, open-ended, and rewarding, like great songwriters can do. He set out to make a folk album but couldn't help coloring it in with noise; a confluence of lush instrumentation and unexpected sounds. Ambitious yet intimate, hi-fi yet homespun, the idiosyncratic songs on I Heard That Noise curve around the contours of everyday life with warmth, wit, and dissonance.

Imagine having a song go viral for 17 years - without even knowing it. That's exactly what happened to the German 1980s band FEX. And this isn't just any song - it's The Most Mysterious Song on the Internet, a track that puzzled music detectives for decades before finally being identified in November 2024. Now, it has been officially released - twice.

The Story in Brief:
Sometime around 1984, a song was broadcasted on NDR Radio. The name of the song was Subways Of Your Mind - only found out 40 years later in November 2024. Back then, a listener recorded the NDR show on cassette, a common practice at the time. Decades later, the tape resurfaced, but while most songs from the recording were identified, one remained an enigma. On March 18, 2007, the track was uploaded to the internet in an attempt to uncover its origins. Due to its now-iconic opening lyric, it was tentatively titled Like The Wind. Over time, the mystery deepened, and the song was given a nickname: The Most Mysterious Song - or simply TMMS.

Starting in 2019, a dedicated Reddit group, TheMysteriousSong, now boasting over 63,000 members, took up the search. They meticulously documented every lead, hoping to solve the riddle of the song's origins. Then, in 2024, the breakthrough: Reddit user marjin1412 reached out to musician Michael Hädrich after discovering a reference to his band FEX in an old newspaper article. Hädrich, FEX's keyboardist, provided a recording from an old demo cassette which included an alternative version of the song. On November 4, 2024, the mystery was officially solved: FEX was the band, Subways Of Your Mind was the title.

What Happened Next:
Since then, FEX has released two singles - both featuring Subways Of Your Mind - through the Berlin-based independent label The Outer Edge. First, the demo cassette version was pressed onto vinyl, as the original NDR radio recording remained lost (see EDGE-028). The Remastered Demo Mix single instantly topped Bandcamp's global charts, holding the #1 spot for several days. By then, it was clear: this was more than just an internet curiosity. A real fanbase had formed. Enthusiastic comments on the sales page ranged from "best post-punk song to ever exist" to "FEX themselves (are) perhaps the most underrated musicians of all time."

But the story didn't end there. A higher-quality version of the NDR radio recording was rediscovered in late december, remastered, and now sent for a second vinyl pressing: the TMMS Version. This new vinyl 7" is backed with Talking Hands another great and unissued song that was found on the demo cassette.

Fame Comes with a Price
Suddenly, time isn't standing still for FEX. The band had to come to terms with the fact that they had become Lostwave super stars. A FEX fan club quickly formed on Reddit, fan-hosted FEX parties are popping up, and the internet is demanding more - an album, merchandise, live performances. But how does a band prepare for a comeback after a 40-year hiatus?

For now, FEX is carefully considering their next steps. Their demo cassette contains six songs - and a few other recordings have resurfaced which probably could be restored and compiled. But foremost, a brand new re-recording of Subways Of Your Mind is in progress.

One thing is certain: The Most Mysterious Song will continue its unstoppable journey around the world. Don't miss this (second) chance to own a piece of music history!

Burnski's high-quality Constant Black is back with more essential club-ready sounds. Donnie Cosmo and Pascal Benjamin step up for one side of action each. Cosmo's 'Holo Glitch' is first and pairs balmy synth work that is colourful and silky with some punchy tech drums and rolling bass that pulls you in deep. 'Echo Drift' is another lithe and lively one to get you on your toes while the groove flows and 'Airplane Mode' is another stylish mix of lush synth design and great rhythm. Benjamin's trio on the flip is a little more gritty with industrial-space-tech many the most fitting way to describe these curious cosmic cuts.

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.