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Jazz Against The Machine's (JATM) cool jazz covers of 90s indierock were essentials for those in the know: virtuosity and curiosities! Franksen's remixes take the souls of Loser (Beck), Under The Bridge (Red Hot Chili Peppers) and Come As Your Are (Nirvana) to a new future. Adding much extra love and detail: Vocals, dubs, deep beats n bass propel the songs to cosy or swinging heights. In jazzhouse manner, in soulful downtempo or grooving hiphop… give 'em some love!

Franksen delivers a mere lexicon of roots n traces. A wide range of clubculture scultpured his unique style over 25 years: djing, producing and hosting public dj radioshow "hr Clubnight". From Downtempo to Dub, Disco to Deephouse or Reggae to HipHop, Breaks and more.

Born in Croydon, UK in 1960 and working in Switzerland for decades, Michal Turtle has led a storied career as a composer, arranger, technician and producer, consistently aligned with some
of the most exciting bands and projects within the realms of pop and experimental music. A figure as masterful in the realm of expansive ambient recordings as advertising jingles, it’s only in recent
years that Michal’s solo productions have gained acclaim and a cult following that continues to grow ever wider.
Turtle made a long-awaited return earlier in 2020 with the extended ‘On a Canvas Lived a Baby’, a one-sided twelve of new material released on Planisphere Editorial. Now, the Basel based label
invites a diverse and international cross-section of electronic musicians to reinterpret the artist’s back-catalogue, each delivering a thoughtful remix driven by the same sense of curiosity,
exploration and genre-blurring that Turtle himself helped pioneer. Each track on the remixes collection was originally recorded between 1980 and 1985, in between Turtle’s regular tours with established bands. Opening the collection, Laurel Halo adopts her LH alias for a textural and tripping revisit to ‘Phantoms of Dreamland’, transporting the haunting original to a hyper-detailed alternate dimension. Zoning back in, Neue Grafik finds typically eclectic form with ‘Men in Green’, turning the dials and blending ideas as if tuning between the emerging musical scenes that defined Turtle’s early-eighties life in Camden, London. In stark contrast, avant-garde polymath Felicia
Atkinson designs a ‘Fennel and Moon’ version, weaving between earthy field recordings and an aching piano line, conjuring an almost ritualistic atmosphere, far from the city. Radical musical turns continue to define the collection as son of Detroit, Jimmy Edgar takes
‘Rainwater Fijit’ down a dark, damp tunnel, expanding on the pitter patter of Turtle’s more outlandish studio experiments, blending vocal experiments with fresh funk. Colombian experimentalist Lucrecia Dalt pulls further bizarre shapes from a patchwork of samples, a heaving,
gasping industrial shuffle, before French producer D.K. returns a stronger rhythm, both building on Turtle’s lovingly naive tributes to the legacy of sample culture and his trusty ARP2600.

Ostgut Ton mainstay and Panorama Bar resident Nick Höppner proceeds to sensitively rewire ‘Maid Of The Mist’ into a blossoming, introspective celebration of melody and ambience, an
almost weightless experience that lends itself well as a breather before Luca Duran’s analogue, acid-tinged take on Spookie Boogie takes Turtle’s esoteric touches back into the direction of the
funk and italo records at the heart of his initial inspiration.
The Remixes final chapter continues to expand in distinct and wide-reaching sonic directions. London’s Object Blue seems to slow time itself across her sublime interpretation of ‘Ball Of Fire’.
Initially Turtle’s tribute to Howard Hawks 1941 film classic and the legacy of old Hollywood, worlds further collide into rolling, weightless bliss.

Fellow Swiss citizen Mehmet Aslan stirs an enchanting, percussive mystery that unfolds with great
pleasure on El Teb, while Parco Palaz conjures not one but two radically different remixes of ‘Are
You Psychic?’, demonstrating both their imaginative nous, as well as the depth of Turtle’s legacy.
Finally, an irresistible vocal contribution from Oso Leone adds even further colour and joy to ‘Maid
of The Mist’, sending off this ambitious collection on a transformative, dream-pop high.
With further details set to be revealed, there is an ongoing development focused around the
accompanying art and visuals. The Peruvian born and now Amsterdam based graphic designer
Jonathan Castro leads the art direction, along with visual artist Chris Harnan. Both artists look to
explore the intersection between sound, imagery and its reorientation, exhibited through the
musical contributors and visual translation.

“I am happy and honoured to have been the spark for this remarkable compilation.
The magnificent work done by this collection of very special people speaks for itself, so listen and
be transported. It has been half a lifetime since my original tracks were written, and I am gratified
to know that they are somehow still relevant enough to be reworked and reinvented.”

As has often been noted, psychedelic music can involve causal links between getting out of it and getting into it. Conversely, expansion of consciousness can be found by heading deep into the roots that a band explores, and journeying to the centre of their inspiration. Thus, a curious paradox is attained, whereby the traditional elements of an outfit’s sound are superseded by them blasting their core vibrations into unchartered territory. Such is the case with the new opus from third-eye visionaries Hills, a dizzying journey that traverses through the band’s origins and beyond to new dimensions.The Gothenburg-based Hills are entering their ninth year of existence, in which they’ve released two full-length albums, the second of which, ‘Master Sleeps’ saw a vinyl outing on Rocket last year. Part of a rich scene in their homestead also including friends and Rocket Recordings label mates Goat, they form the new chapter in a tradition of Swedish psychedelia that found its origins in late-’60s and early ‘70s freakouts and mind-melts by the likes of Baby Grandmothers and Älgarnas Trädgård - not to mention the unholy trinity of Pärson Sound, International Harvester and Träd Gräs och Stenar - before being developed by the likes of The Spacious Mind and Dungen in the last two decades. These inspirations make their mark on ‘Frid’ by journeying inward, via mantric repetition and hip-shaking pulsations as on the ten-minute monolith, ‘ Och Solen Sänkte Sig Röd’, yet they can also lurch into the unknown via the fuzz/wah odysseys of the aptly monikered ‘National Drone’ and the ceremonial exhortations of the closing ‘Death Will Find A Way.’As they also showed recently at a rare and spellbinding appearance at Liverpool International Festival Of Psychedelia, Hills have landed on a rich and intoxicating sound that sidesteps the cliches and humdrum stylistic foibles that often plague modern-day psych, in the process breathing new life into an approach that can sometimes seem in danger of appearing redundant through lack of imagination. ‘Frid’, their most out-of-mind and out-of-sight effort to date, crystallises everything that makes these Scandinavian satyrs stand out from the global herd; adventurous experimentation and fearless hallucinatory intensity, rendered with brass-knuckle fortitude. The end result is 38 minutes that translate into a feast for seasoned crate-diggers and fresh-faced converts alike. There is, indeed, gold in these here Hills.

There is a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it anecdote tucked into one of
the many fine documentaries about seminal 20th Century artist
Jean-Michel Basquiat regarding the habits of his studio practice.
As we watch inspiring footage of Basquiat darting from one
piece to the next with rapid-fire brush strokes, a friend or
gallerist in a voice over says that it was not unusual for
Basquiat to be working on several paintings in the same
moment as several radio stations and televisions played in the
background. Not much more time is spent on the anecdote but
it feels like a skeleton key into Basquiat’s endlessly alluring,
neoexpressionist work.
And while Bryan Devendorf’s solo curio ‘Royal Green’ doesn’t
possess the only-in-New York vibe of Basquiat’s work, there is
something shared in its many-channels-open style of creation.
Satellite signals, strange voices from lost television
documentaries and radio operas are all woven into its fabric -
like it’s using these endless tides of media and information to
unlock the subconscious. Even its covers - Bob Dylan,
Fleetwood Mac, The National (with a nice big wink), The
Beatles - are like stunning, albeit satanic takes on hymns, or
like American standards almost dragged into the underworld.
Like the best of Spacemen 3, Sparklehorse or massively
underrated San Fran band Skygreen Leopards - the music
makes you queasy in one movement and lulls you into
blissmode in the next. It’s the very edge of outsider pop
songwriting.
For all the amphitheaters and festival fields Devendorf has
played to over his career, ‘Royal Green’ almost feels like an unlearning and a newfound love of homemade/found/fractured
sounds - and how, if collaged just so, detritus can become
stunningly gorgeous and surreal. And not without hooks. Look
no further than ‘Frosty’, which could be Little Billy Corgan’s
decayed demo tape from just before the Smashing Pumpkins
appeared on the scene. And the unspooling, slightly unglued
dream-pop of ‘Breaking the River’ is as rapturous as it is
sinister. And that’s probably where Devendorf wants it.

Wisconsin musician Jon Mueller is inquisitive. Open to pushing his
experience and his limits, he’s demonstrated the many sides of himself both as a solo performer and as a key member in mind-bending projects like Mind Over Mirrors, Volcano Choir, and Death Blues, or by running his shop of curiosities Within Things.
On his new four-piece collection Family Secret, the experimental musician maintains a meticulous, sustained tension, re-engaging with a technique he developed as an adolescent - reframing the environs of creation, and naturally altering his perception, through changes in light and space - while also considering the role of family and divorce.
Gentle, metallic bellows fade in and shifting timbres immerse the listener, each wave of sound folding atop the previous. Mueller has created a room, or at least an enclosure.

There is a blink-and-you'll-miss-it anecdote tucked into one of the many fine documentaries about seminal 20th Century artist Jean-Michel Basquiat regarding the habits of his studio practice. As we watch inspiring footage of Basquiat darting from one piece to the next with rapid-fire brush strokes, a friend or gallerist in a voice over says that it was not unusual for Basquiat to be working on several paintings in the same moment as several radio stations and televisions played in the background. Not much more time is spent on the anecdote, but it feels like a skeleton key into Basquiat's endlessly alluring, neoexpressionist work. And while Bryan Devendorf's solo curio `Royal Green' doesn't possess the only-in-New York vibe of Basquiat's work, there is something shared in its many-channels-open style of creation. Satellite signals, strange voices from lost television documentaries and radio operas are all woven into its fabric _ like it's using these endless tides of media and information to unlock the subconscious. Even its covers _ Bob Dylan, Fleetwood Mac, The National (with a nice big wink), The Beatles _ are like stunning, albeit satanic takes on hymns, or like American standards almost dragged into the underworld. Like the best of Spacemen 3, Sparklehorse or massively underrated San Fran band Skygreen Leopards _ the music makes you queasy in one movement and lulls you into blissmode in the next. It's the very edge of outsider pop songwriting. For all the amphitheaters and festival fields Devendorf has played to over his career, `Royal Green' almost feels like an un-learning and a newfound love of homemade/found/fractured sounds _ and how, if collaged just so, detritus can become stunningly gorgeous and surreal. And not without hooks. Look no further than "Frosty" which could be Little Billy Corgan's decayed demo tape from just before the Smashing Pumpkins appeared on the scene. And the unspooling, slightly unglued dream-pop of "Breaking the River" is as rapturous as it is sinister. And that's probably where Devendorf wants it.

Reymour packed their bags in the pre-Alps of Switzerland and left to start a new life in Bruxelles. This debut album finds originates in this transition, again in a bilingual environment, by now a Knekelhuis theme. Leviosa documents the emergence of a kind of dance built from chansons, synthpop and cute minimal wave. Luc Bersier’s wide musical spectrum reaches great heights while staying small. He creates the musical bedrock on which Reymour’s cabinet of musical curiosities rests, allowing us to drift away on the unctuous fumes of Lou’s vocals. On these tracks she covers a wide array of feelings, of doubt, sexual orientation, play and melancholia. And it all comes together in the reflection of life. Close friend and family guy Low Bat contributes vocals and gameplay on 2 of the album’s tracks.

• After their huge success throughout the 90s, Suede called it a day (for the first time) in 2003. The Suede Information Service (SIS) compiled and issued this special collection of demos, acoustic versions and other curios in 2004. Only 2000 CDs were manufactured, and these were distributed free to the members of the SIS.
• Whilst some of the tracks have appeared on the Edsel reissues, several tracks, including “Elaine Paige”, the Mick Jones remix of the band’s last single “Attitude” and the live French version of “The Power” have not been reissued since 2004.
• This release also marks the first time this collection has been issued on vinyl.

As Midnight Sister, multi-disciplinary LA artists Juliana Giraffe and Ari Balouzian make motion pictures. Yes, sometimes with moving images _ but most often only with the music they create together. Balouzian's serpentine, string compositions are movie scenes that allow Giraffe, a brilliant character actor, to cloak herself in a new roles and voices. A bit of Jon Brion's score work; some old Hollywood strings; a solid dose of glam and outsider disco from 70s independent cinema. Any perceived artifice is always matched by an indelible human fingerprint, something perfectly off. Giraffe and Balouzian's respective work in fashion, visual art, video and film scoring _ along with the gang of virtuosos with which they surround themselves _ all wonderfully coalesce as Midnight Sister. And if 2017's `Saturn Over Sunset' was their collection of short films about outcast life in The San Fernando Valley, then their new album `Paining the Roses' is the inventive, meta motion picture that cements them as auteurs. `Painting the Roses' is in many ways a fairy tale -- not so much the sweet-and-happyending kind as something richer, packed with imagination and rooted in the complex human messiness beneath a story's artifice. Frontwoman Giraffe describes it as "this tightrope of being real yet synthetic, organic yet staged, light yet dark, logical yet irrational, beautiful yet dilapidated. Joyful nonsense." Here, disguises like masks and paint are not meant to hide but to liberate, to "set a part of us free", and Midnight Sister often embody this themselves, appearing highly stylized, curious, warm and inviting but a little askew. `Painting the Roses' is a story told through the looking glass, one where we examine ourselves in a funhouse mirror but find clarity in its twists. Giraffe traveled to visit family in Argentina during the making of the album and reconnected greatly with that part of her family history, art and culture. Balouzian created the core album opener "Doctor Says" during a session in the desert outside of LA. The guitar, which reminded Giraffe of South America, has a slow, sweltering surf-tango to it, like Dick Dale doing Carlos Gardel. And even though the song was inspired by Giraffe's reconnection with Argentina, the song is about the fading of some close friendships during the making of the album. "Man, you have changed," Giraffe sings, unclear if tis directed to a friend or to herself. Later on the album, "Wednesday Baby" _ named after Giraffe's rescue dog _ is patient, subtly baroque pop. It follows Giraffe through one of those gloomy days spent in tunnelvision doldrums from which only a sunbathing turtle or your canine companion can pull you out. By the time collaborator Max Whipple's saw comes beaming down from heaven in the song's 3rd part, we're hypnotized by the song's charming ennui. The song lands someplace both familiar and aloof, a little slice of timelessness taken straight from The Cake of Perfect Songcraft.

Nuno Canavarro's Plux Quba hails from three decades in the past, yet the simple profi le of it's abstract/ambient/cutup collage makes it a record that sits quite comfortably in our IDM-informed future. In 1988, Plux Quba was a primal dark horse in the world of pants-forward electronic music - an obscurity issued with little explanation from the laid-back west coast of Europe: Portugal, of all places! - though the casual listener could hardly know that from an examination of the LP jacket. The vanguard of electronics in late-80s Europe was being pushed by organizations like Nurse With Wound, The Hafler Trio, HNAS - and yet, when Christoph Heemann came across this recording, it struck his ears and the ears of fellow listeners like nothing before. Plux Quba was handed around between the principles of the early 90s A-Musik scene: Jan St. Werner, C-Schulz, Frank Dommert, Georg Odijk, plus interested fellow travelers like Jim O'Rourke, to the intense curiosity of all. To ears that were already saturated with all things kraut, the dark corners of prog and the frontline of experimental and improvised music, it proved elusive. Not simply in how it sounded and how that sound was achieved, but in where it was coming from - like later Robert Ashley at times; certain stretches of melody recalled some of Eno's ambient pieces - but mostly, it was a completely alien soundscape!

Utter presents the debut album ‘Taiyō’ by Vādin, a new collaborative project from Lucie Štěpánková (Avsluta) and Christian Duka.

They describe the record:

“Vādin is a shapeshifter formed through sound, a seismic energy. ‘Taiyō’ is Vādin’s first word. It was improvised and recorded in the Welsh wilderness over three days within a makeshift yurt studio using analogue and digital synthesizers, voice, location field recordings and amplified objects. ‘Taiyō’ is an entity emerging from the process of opening up, inviting, curiously exploring and being vulnerable; it is inspired by the flow of life in all its finite magic, intangibility and imperfection.

The album opens with the drizzling drone scenery interweaved with shivering whispers of ‘The Seven Laws’ followed by the disintegrated rhythms and warm ripples of ‘First Contact’. ‘Merging’ is a multi-layered organism of spiralling undulations, astral droplets and hypnotic pulsations while ‘The Forest’ narrates a sensuous connection with the world where the suggestive monologue and extra-terrestrial pearls float atop galloping liquid rhythms. ‘Sufi Trance’ is a slow-burning cyclone, an ecstatic rite, a hypnotic pilgrimage into the centre of the Sun - ‘Taiyō’ - which brings the journey to a stirring climax with its morphing drops and electrifying trills.”

A lucid dream meeting of synth waves, aquatic jazz spirits and drum-triggered electronics.'Linha D'Água'translates as 'water lines', fitting for an album that traces boundaries between water and air through an echo chamber of dizzying oceanic layers and free flowing ideas.

This is not a record based on genres. It's an album that navigates through atmospheres, through explorations and discoveries, through curiosity and dialogue. The eight tracks were recorded in a single day in the studio, but it is the result of more than two years of collaborations.

Mauricio Takara and Carla Boregas are two towering figures of the Brazilian underground/experimental scene, where they provide the rhythm section for demented genre-bending trio Rakta. While that band is all ritual percussion and red-blooded passion, as a duo they're a blue-water flowing counterpoint. From the drums, Takara fires melodies and, with the synthesizer, Carla sculpts the sound. The result iscaught somewhere between abstract improvisation and propulsive rhythm. Each song's an organic layering of manipulated synthesizers and acoustic sounds; teasing new rhythms from the drum kit via MIDI (and a near-telekinetic bond between Carla and Mauricio).

Sometimes'Linha D'Água'driftsclosest to ambient music, as in the title track, in 'Mãe D'Ouro' and 'Bocca Chiusa'; sometimes it runs into free jazz, as in 'Traçado Entre Duas Linhas'. There are moments when Carla and Mauricio explore a universe of tension that comes closest to the cosmic music of 70s Germany, as in 'Rosa de Areia' and 'Constante de Distância'; in others they evoke the metallic sounds of Indonesian gamelan (on 'Execution').

Carla Boregas is a founding member of the band Rakta, which started in 2011. She co-founded Auta, a DIY space dedicated to adventurous music in São Paulo hosting artists like Feminine Hi-Fi and Deafkids. She is also part of the transdisciplinary duo Fronte Violeta.

Mauricio Takara also plays drums/percussion with the bands Hurtmold and São Paulo Underground (with trumpeter Rob Mazurek from Chicago). Takara has played with a dizzying array of improv / experimental / jazz figures such as Pharoah Sanders, Damo Suzuki, Yusef Lateef, Joe Lally (Fugazi), Naná Vasconcelos, Prefuse 73, Makoto Kawabata and more.

Flippen Disks follows up their much acclaimed label-debut with an intriguing second release by Yuto Takei.

Throughout the Bells From The East EP, Yuto Takei’s first vinyl release, displays a wide array of sounds with a particular interest in rhythmic experiments and the negotiation of sonic space.

The Tokyo-based producer and DJ takes the listener onto a trip through deep spheres, percussive workouts, jammy compositions and electronic psychedelia, leaving the listener at times startled as to whether humans are manipulating machines here, or vice-versa.
Having worked as an electronic music composer for video games such as Gran Turismo, this uncanny valley is known territory for the artist. It is, however, further explored on this four tracker, staying true to Flippen Disks paradigm of releasing club-oriented music, non-functional enough to not only be danced but also listened to.

While the title track Bells From The East is an 8 minute jam, in which the krauty psych attitude pairs up perfectly with the goofy lead melody, Eclectic Matters is an intense percussive workout, refined with a pinch of Digi-Dub.

On the flip, Karma Fuchi feels like a paraglide through a landscape of tree tops, curious winds passing and entrancing synths and percussion stabs leading the way. Mostica closes the EP beautifully and spaciously, allowing for deep dives into its detailed soundscape and waving the listener peacefully goodbye.

Mort Garson’s road to cool cultural caché and the sublimity of Plantasia meant a decades’ long journey through an underworld of sophisticated, international, string-laced dreck (i.e., your great-grandparents’ record collection) to arrive at Music from Patch Cord Productions, this set of queasy-listening you now hold.

Music from Patch Cord Productions shows that Garson’s knack was to exist in both worlds, super-commercial and waaay out. He cut delirious minute-long blasts for commercials (as to whether or not they were actually ever aired remains unknown) and spacecraft-hovering études. Were there really account managers out there in the early ’70s that gave the greenlight to these commercial compositions which seemed to anticipate everyone from John Carpenter to Suicide? What were these campaigns actually for, Soylent Green? Regardless, Mort’s jingle work laid the groundwork for the future. As Robert Moog himself noted: “The jingles were important because they domesticated the sound.” Via Garson’s wizardry, the synthesizer transcended novelty to ubiquity and dominance.

Other curios and questions abound. How did Garson’s arrangement work for Arthur Prysock’s satiny body worship album This Is My Beloved transmogrify into the body-snatcher pulses of “This is My Beloved”? Are the two pieces even related? What is the IATA code for the airport of “Realizations of an Aeropolis”? What denomination is the “Cathedral of Pleasure”? If “Son of Blob” sounds like a hallucinatory melted ice cream truck theme, what on earth does Blob’s father sound like? Every sound wrangled out of that Moog by Garson pushes things further and further out.

Of course, these are all questions that may never get answers, as Garson wasn’t the most organized modern day composer, busy as he was conjuring strange new realms with his circuit boards and synths. He worked and wrote right up until his death in 2008, his daughter and Sacred Bones still going through all of the material left behind. He wouldn’t live to see it, but his renaissance was just around the corner, the seeds that had been scattered in record bins around the world suddenly coming to bear fruit. Take a bite!

Fischgeist was recorded in a former water tank in Berlin-Prenzlauer Berg in August 2019. The nineteenth-century brick building consists of five layered circles, with a spiral staircase in the middle leading up to an exit to a hilltop. Inside, it’s humid and cold, the temperature always around 8–10 C°. The building’s acoustics produce a long reverberation that lasts up to 20 seconds.

‘One day between recording sessions, a man, a passerby, wanted to look inside the building. He told me that it used to be full of fish. For a second I imagined a huge round aquarium with loads of fish swimming around in circles. Then I realized that he meant dead fish were kept there, to be sold on markets during the GDR era. But the image of fish swimming in the space stayed with me.’

In conversation with the space of the water tank, Tomoko Sauvage searches beyond the limits of her self-invented ‘natural synthesizers’: porcelain and glass bowls, filled with water and amplified with hydrophones.

While she continues to develop some of the classic techniques heard on her previous album Musique Hydromantique (Shelter Press, 2017) – hydrophonic feedback (Kinetosis Study) and ‘fortune biscuits’ (porous pieces of terracotta that emit tiny singing bubbles) (Deluge) – here new elements are combined with delicate gestures to make curious noises: stroking bowls’ surfaces to imitate the voices of sea mammals (Metamorphosis), drawing dots and circles by rubbing stones against stones underwater (Exit) … The underwater amplification of quasi-inaudible sound is even more magnified in the air by the echo of the water tank. Not only tiny bubbles, but also micro-movements of the bones and veins of the hand holding the sonorous objects in the water, are intensely amplified – sounding like a tempest on the opening Deluge. Sauvage’s longtime research into hydrophonic feedback develops with her new obsession with natural harmonics and sympathetic resonance. In Flying Vessels, the percussive notes of struck bowls resonate and turn into feedback loops before decaying, fueled by electric signal gain. Kinetosis Study is a sonic etude on fluid dynamics – the flow velocity, pressure and density of manually shaped water waves directly controlling the aquatic synthesizer’s parameters.

August, when the mid-summer Ghost Festival is held, is traditionally known as the Ghost Month throughout East Asia. The spirits of the dead visit their living families, who welcome them with feasts, dancing and music. Miniature lantern-laden boats are released in rivers, to help lost ghosts find their way home.

Animated by formless matter – water, electricity, sound – Fischgeist celebrates a phantasmagoric journey, as the souls of aquatic lifeforms find their way out of the labyrinth of the water tank.

Credits
Composed, performed and mixed by Tomoko Sauvage
Recorded and produced by bohemian drips prior to ‘Speicher’ festival in Berlin, August 2019 (binaural recording with a KU-100 dummy head microphone)
Mastered by Andreas Kauffelt in Berlin
Cover drawings by Baien Mōri (1798-1851)
© Tomoko Sauvage and bohemian drips – all rights reserved

Mort Garson’s road to cool cultural caché and the sublimity of Plantasia meant a decades’ long journey through an underworld of sophisticated, international, string-laced dreck (i.e., your great-grandparents’ record collection) to arrive at Music from Patch Cord Productions, this set of queasy-listening you now hold.

Music from Patch Cord Productions shows that Garson’s knack was to exist in both worlds, super-commercial and waaay out. He cut delirious minute-long blasts for commercials (as to whether or not they were actually ever aired remains unknown) and spacecraft-hovering études. Were there really account managers out there in the early ’70s that gave the greenlight to these commercial compositions which seemed to anticipate everyone from John Carpenter to Suicide? What were these campaigns actually for, Soylent Green? Regardless, Mort’s jingle work laid the groundwork for the future. As Robert Moog himself noted: “The jingles were important because they domesticated the sound.” Via Garson’s wizardry, the synthesizer transcended novelty to ubiquity and dominance.

Other curios and questions abound. How did Garson’s arrangement work for Arthur Prysock’s satiny body worship album This Is My Beloved transmogrify into the body-snatcher pulses of “This is My Beloved”? Are the two pieces even related? What is the IATA code for the airport of “Realizations of an Aeropolis”? What denomination is the “Cathedral of Pleasure”? If “Son of Blob” sounds like a hallucinatory melted ice cream truck theme, what on earth does Blob’s father sound like? Every sound wrangled out of that Moog by Garson pushes things further and further out.

Of course, these are all questions that may never get answers, as Garson wasn’t the most organized modern day composer, busy as he was conjuring strange new realms with his circuit boards and synths. He worked and wrote right up until his death in 2008, his daughter and Sacred Bones still going through all of the material left behind. He wouldn’t live to see it, but his renaissance was just around the corner, the seeds that had been scattered in record bins around the world suddenly coming to bear fruit. Take a bite!

The 20th anniversary year of Dial Records couldn’t have been more exciting for us so far! After the extraordinary well-received release of Soela’s debut-album Genuine Silk and steady excitement around our ongoing series of digital anniversary compilations, we are more than thrilled to announce the second album release of this our very special year: XDB - Inspiron. As a longtime companion and true inspiration throughout the label’s twenty-year history, Kosta Athanassiadis aka XDB enriched our lives with his brilliant productions in the form of countless 12”s and legendary remixes. His long-overdue full-length debut album Inspiron in hand, we find ourselves unpacking the most beautiful jubilee present we could have ever imagined. For almost three decades now Kosta Athanassiadis aka XDB has been involved in the constantly changing world of dance music. His curiosity and dedication to electronic music spiral deep into the depth of House Music and Techno and where ever he appears he generously shares his unique knowledge in this field with equally dedicated crowds. Whether you follow his bloggish “Tracks I do really LOVE”, a collection of club essentials and a library of taste, or you witness one of his remarkable DJ sets from Panorama Bar to Freerotation Festival - XDB will elevate you to one of those unforgettably magical music moments. In 1993 Kosta Athanassiadis started his DJ career in the medieval hometown of Goettingen. To find what he was really looking for, namely, the newest and most exciting new records he frequently had to leave this picturesque city, that is most popular for inventing the traditional Baumkuchen pastry, but has not been on the maps of music connoisseurs necessarily. Frequent trips to visit records stores and clubs around Germany built a network of likely minded people. Some of his favorite and most thought after record labels of the time like the Chicago imprint Relief, or UK's Mosaic, are still fundamental to his very specific musical taste. By the turn of the century, XDB hosted a series of nights at Goettingen's Eletroosho, where he invited Dial’s own Lawrence and Carsten Jost in 2002- the beginning of a still ongoing friendship. He had established himself as a sought after and internationally active DJ and started his fist endeavors into music production as well. Later on XDB founded his own Label Metrolux and released on iconic labels like Sistrum and Wave to be followed by countless remixes for legends like Aaron Carl, Norm Talley and Patrice Scott. An extraordinary stream of gravity connects both, his productions and DJ sets. Once breaking through a seemingly transparent surface, one get’s lost in the beauty and depth of forms and figures. There’s barely DJs and producers who keep searching for this hidden formula in such a microscopically detailed way to pass a lifetime in House Music and Techno on to the world. XDB's Inspiron embraces this unique approach, filters and develops inspirations in an entirely delicate way, and magically emphasizes the desires of the most dedicated listeners and dancers.

What were the skies like when you were young? These days, asking that question likely conjures disappointment in its answer. Dreams of possibility hardened by certainty. Hopes and prayers jet-cooled to brittle acquiescence. A lingering feeling that this is not what we asked for, not what we worked towards. Promises of the future replaced by sins of the father. It is in this particular light that the latest work, "Moscels," by Iranian artist and musician Ata Ebtekar, also known as Sote, arrives on Opal Tapes, British label for the sonically curious and aurally disaffected. Contrary to potential expectation, it features no rhythmic exhortations, no colloidal outbursts, and no acoustic instrumentation of any kind. Synthesized entirely from physical models and oscillators, whose union gives the record its name, "Moscels" is a haunting, beautiful, and auspicious listen. None of Ebtekar's work comes necessarily easy to the listener, but "Moscels" is suffused with a sense of wonder almost childlike in quality, and so it beckons kindly. In acertain sense, electronic music is a kind of magic, isn't it? And this is the sound of a magician at work. Dive into the sound of an otherworld, so close yet so far, where dreaming is less sweet than being, and where all that is possible remains still at hand.

Being in love with music since his adolescence, Frédéric forged a culture, integrating song, Latin music, jazz, as much as Kraftwerk's electronic preludes in the late 70’s. In addition to studying drums and piano, his interests is also in African and oriental music. His curiosity is limitless, and all musical cultures find an interest in his eyes, which makes him a personality apart on the electronic scene.

In 1997, his meeting with F-communications was an important step since it gave him the opportunity to release his first record. He combined electronic music and jazz in a new way. So much so that the classification in one genre or the other is impossible. The album, "Frédéric Galliano & the African Divas", recorded especially in West Africa with African singers, is the perfect missing link between traditional music and electro music.

Melissa Guion’s second offering for Kranky retains the glassy gauze of her debut, 2016’s Precious Systems, but shaded starker and darker, framed by mechanical rhythms and humid industrial moods. She speaks of Sour Cherry Bell as something of a reckoning with her tools of creation: “I was curious to see how far I could go with them, even if that meant reaching the ends of their capacity to do what I wanted. But I never exhausted them and they never exhausted me.”

Utilizing her trusted combination of instrumentation, Guion tracked the record between her New Orleans home and rehearsal space, capturing chemistries both intimate and expansive. The songs sway between twilit shoegaze, downer ballads, and gothic pop, mapping a delicate palette of electric melancholies, though in retrospect she cites as her primary muse the notion of power: “lost and found, corporeal and cerebral, harnessed and exploited, of one and many, in this reality and the next.” Sour Cherry Bell reverberates beyond the here and now into scenes unseen, worlds unheard.