Buscar:de la noise

Amuleto Apotropaico has a way to fend off demons by channeling a secular spiritualism rooted in a rigorous but playful connexion to the infinite possibilities of noise. The propulsion of their continuous music ebbs into and flows out of this primordial flux through their unique brand of brutalist liturgy.

Amuleto Apotropaico is a Portuguese duo consisting of António Feiteira (drums & electronics) and Francisco Pedro Oliveira (guitar, flute & electronics) formed in 2021. Having grown up together, saturated in the lore of their hometown of Santa Maria da Feira, the duo now resides in Porto and continues to moor their rhythmic rituals in the traditions of Northern Iberia.

None of this is a nostalgic look back to a time-that-never-was. Amuleto Apotropaico's cycles are ouroboric: every step forward invokes a simultaneous step backward such that their observance of sonic ceremony (seeming to invoke a now-forgotten tradition) becomes a constructivist gesture that shapes its own legacy. If time-travel exists, this duo has found out how.

For their self-titled first release (also the first release of the Perf label), António Feiteira has culled, recomposed and processed recordings from the band's last two years of concerts in order to create a exciting 4-tracker. Apotropia I & II, which open sides A and B on the vinyl release, are both textural meditations on subtle density. Feiteira's sensitive percussion flourishes are married to Oliveira's modular-enhanced flute and guitar patterns. Albedo e Rito showcases the duo's sense of melodic contour while crescendoing to a peak of lightness. Bruxa do Calhau Branco, lifts the whole journey into an astral dimension where multi-layered drums, synths and digital clicks breathe out, announcing that their moment of worship has settled back into the ubiquitous hubbub of room hum.

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."

Deerhoof haben sich schon vor langer Zeit als eine der großartigsten Rockgruppen des Planeten etabliert - wer das für übertrieben hält, hat noch nicht genug Zeit damit verbracht, Deerhoof zu hören - das wahnsinnig erfinderische Quartett behandelt jedes seiner neuen Alben als eine Gelegenheit zur kreativen Wiedergeburt. Und doch sind sie irgendwie auch zutiefst zuverlässig, eine seltsame, aber wahre Beschreibung für eine Band, die so kreativ rastlos ist. Man weiß nie, wie ein neues Deerhoof-Album klingen wird, außer dass es immer nach Deerhoof klingen wird. Die Band wird durch solche Paradoxien definiert, wie "Noble and Godlike in Ruin" erneut bestätigt. Ihr neuestes Album ist entweder ein Porträt einer Welt, die in monströsen Hass, Entmenschlichung und Dollarzeichen abgleitet, oder ein eindringliches Selbstporträt der Band als Monster: ein intelligentes, sensibles, hybrides Wesen, das unermüdlich von Liebe singt, sich aber zunehmend von dieser Welt entfremdet. Die Musik ist fröhlich und ahnungsvoll, kybernetisch und zutiefst menschlich, alles zugleich. Streicher, die an avantgardistische Kammermusik und klassische Horrorfilm-Soundtracks erinnern, prallen auf Gitarren- und Basslinien. Das Schlagzeug ist manchmal gefiltert und klingt fast elektronisch, aber kein Computer könnte einen so funkigen und dynamischen Rhythmus erzeugen, bei dem jede winzige Variation von einem Snare-Schlag zum nächsten Welten der Möglichkeiten vermittelt. An der Spitze steht die unnachahmliche Altstimme von Satomi Matsuzaki. Eine Stimme der Einsamkeit, deren schlichte Ruhe seltsam außerhalb des Mahlstroms der Band zu stehen scheint, zu dem sie mit ihren zackig-präzisen Bassläufen selbst beiträgt. Als Einwanderin der ersten Generation in den USA hat sie nie versucht, ihren japanischen Akzent oder ihre Karaoke-esken Vortrag zu verbergen. Auf "Noble und Godlike in Ruin" wirkt dies abwechselnd als Ausdruck von Einsamkeit und als kühle Provokation gegenüber Systemen der Unterdrückung und Kontrolle. ,Kindness is all I needed from you", singt sie auf dem epischen Albumabschluss ,Immigrant Songs`. ,But you think we're in your house." Nicht lange danach explodiert der Song, sein eng gewickelter Art-Pop macht Platz für mehrere Minuten heulenden Lärm. Auch wenn das Thema düster sein mag - wie könnte es anders sein - tragen die Songs trotzigen Optimismus in ihrer Weigerung, sich den Konventionen oder überlieferten Weisheiten zu beugen. Da ist diese berühmte Zeile von Dylan Thomas über das Wüten gegen das Sterben des Lichts: "Noble and Godlike in Ruin" fühlt sich ein wenig so an. Die Welt mag untergehen, aber Deerhoof gehen schwungvoll unter.

'the fun years', comprised of multi-instrumentalists Ben Recht and Isaac Sparks, have been making music together since the turn of the century, producing intriguing interrogations of ambient, drone, post-rock, and turntablism. Originally released in 2008 on the now-defunct Barge Recordings, 'baby it’s cold inside' is perhaps the high watermark of their discography. Equally concerned with microtonal nuance and harmonic intensity, it is both a product of its time and something well past it. The chief protagonist is surely the turntable, deployed to create woolly, evocative loops from unidentifiable source material that recall, at times, the work of Philip Jeck or Jan Jelinek—churning, roiling, hissing, atrophied textures further articulated with nuanced processing and buoyed by baritone guitar drones and anti-riffing.

The title of opener "my lowville" feels like a wink to the famed slowcore duo, with spare post-rock motifs hovering in a dusty ether, slowly consumed by distorted washes of rich, harmonic sound. One of the most satisfying aspects of the album is that despite the recumbent nature of most of their sound design choices and compositional proclivities, Recht and Sparks are loath to sit still. "auto show of the dead" is a serpentine piano/guitar exploration full of subtle detail, preceding the immaculately titled "fucking milwaukee’s been hesher forever," in which the tactile delights of clicks+cuts are liberated from the laboratory and allowed to slum it in the world of tape gunk and '90s plate reverb. Later, "re: we’re again buried under" presents an inky black ambience that feels truly expansive and almost overwhelming, and closer “The Surge is Working” tears apart an anthemic shoegaze dirge at the seams, leaving only billowing filtered noise and negative space in its wake.

Presented here with a brilliant remaster by LUPO, 'baby it’s cold Inside should be considered alongside records like Belong’s October Language and Polmo Polpo’s Like Hearts Swelling—an arresting early aughts ambient marvel that warrants ongoing investigation.

Emptyset, James Ginzburg and Paul Purgas, explore both spatial and physical properties of sound; specifically the perceptible boundaries between it and noise. They have produced installations for Tate Britain and the Architecture Foundation in London. Emptyset"s new album Dissever continues their exploration of the histories of 20th century electronic sound and media. Dissever delves into the intertwined evolution of cosmic rock, minimalism and electronic music, viewed through their prospective dreams and overlapping technological ambitions. Premiered at Tate Modern as a live performance, Dissever was part of the exhibition Electric Dreams, a large-scale survey of the global history of art and technology. The resulting album is astoundingly sublime, rich with sonics that are as thrilling and immediate as they are singular and dense with complexity.

After a collage tape collab with Bardo Todol back in 2022 (SUC52, Magnetic Road to Hell) Robert Millis finally gets his Discrepant debut proper, a much overdue entryin our random catalogue of lost musical oddities.

The not so self explanatory title Interior Music explores Millis obsession with hidden sounds and its anomalies. An hermetic rearrangement of emptiness could be another more big headed title. But I leave the man to talk about his thing:

‘’The phrase interior music occurred to me a few years ago as a way to describe some recent work. It’s about the resonances inside of hollow wooden chambers (and hollow heads) like gramophones and talking machines, music boxes, instruments, metal containers, and resonant rooms. It’s about exploring tiny audio fragments—single notes, vinyl and shellac surface noise, recording mishaps and anomalies—and arranging them into something meaningful. It is about my own interior mishaps and anomalies and attempts to arrange THEM into something meaningful. It also references “interior design” with the placement of sounds in specific locations, layers or in juxtapositions.

Inspirations include Steve Roden’s lowercase work, Toshiya Tsunoda’s field recordings, Eliane Radique’s slowly shifting ambiances, and the musique concrete of Pierre Schaeffer, as well as the dhrupad and kayal traditions of Indian classical music—especially Kesarbai Kerkar and the Dagar family who have a sublime way of stretching out individual notes and exploring their endless permutations, combinations and connotations.’’

Robert Millis is a sound artist known for his work with Climax Golden Twins, the Helen Scarsdale Agency, the soundtrack to cult horror film Session 9, the Victrola Favorites book and cassette series, and many releases on Sublime Frequencies including Indian Talking Machine, Paris to Calcutta: Men and Music on the Desert Road, compilations of the earliest music recorded in Korea, Japan and Myanmar, and the documentaries This World is Unreal Like a Snake in a Rope and Phi Ta Khon: Ghosts of Isan. Somehow he is a Fulbright scholar (to India 2012-13) and the recipient of a Guggenheim Fellowship (2020). He has or currently does play with AFCGT, Idol Ko Si, and/or Telescoping.

Claire Chicha aka Spill Tab is feeling more free than ever before. The LA-based, French-Korean songwriter and producer,has spent the past five years as spill tab honing a sound that is as raw-edged as it is refined, channelling low-slung guitar-strumming confessionals as well as the earworming melodic hooks of anthemic pop to produce a heady and distinctive mix.

Following the 2019 release of her intimate and infectious debut single “Decompose”, Spill Tab has evolved her spill tab project through three EPs: 2020’s synth-pop influenced Oatmilk, 2021’s playful, uptempo Bonnie, featuring Gus Dapperton and Tommy Genesis, and 2023’s co-produced, sonically-intricate Klepto, which gleefully meanders from the Hiatus Kaiyote-influenced jazz freakouts of “CRÈME BRÛLÉE!” to the guitar-chugging thump of “Splinter”. Live, meanwhile, Spill Tab has been tapped for her explosively energetic presence to open the North American leg of popstar Sabrina Carpenter’s tour, as well as touring through Australia with alt-rock trio Wallows.
With “PINK LEMONADE”, opening single from her forthcoming debut album “ANGIE” , spill tab’s freewheeling sound finds its fullest expression, harnessing this onstage experience and recorded experimentation with her bass-weight and pitched-up vocals. Here we find Chicha only ever chasing that “weird thing”, fizzing with an infectious enthusiasm and intricate musicianship. “The best songs come from writing the main idea in a day, as it’s so instinctual,” she says, such as “PINK LEMONADE” recorded “from a clip taken out of a 40-minute jam that we then chopped and spliced”.
Born to her French Algerian composer father and Korean pianist mother, Claire Chicha spent her early childhood in the mixing room of her parents’ LA post-production studio, bringing coffees to artists as they tracked scores for exciting new projects. “I hung out in that studio all the time until I was around 10 years old, absorbing jazz music my dad was into and classical music that my mom loved,” Chicha says. “My mom had a big hand in making me an adventurous kid, always trying new things from piano to harp and violin, forever soaking up new sounds.”

At 12, Chicha’s life was uprooted as she relocated to Thailand to live with her mother’s family following the collapse of her parents’ business after the 2008 recession. What followed was an unstable and formative few years of early teenagedom, navigating new cultures and life changes. In Thailand, Chicha began learning guitar to cover the Paramore and Green Day tracks she had grown to love while also becoming immersed in Thai traditional music. After a year, she moved once more to live with her aunt in Paris and there she was introduced to the classic sound of Serge Gainsbourg and Édith Piaf before ultimately returning to LA following the untimely death of her father.

“I had to become a real people person to fit in everywhere I was moving, and it immersed me into so many different styles of music,” she says. “I went from listening to the nasal singing of Thai traditional music at muay thai fights in Bangkok, to emotive classic French songs. It definitely informed the need to experiment with my sound as I became more interested in making music.”

At high school in LA, Chicha joined one of the country’s foremost show choirs and realised a natural aptitude for stagecraft and performance as she sang medleys in competitions throughout the US. Going on to study Music Business at NYU, Chicha found a love for the alternative soul and singer-songwriting of the likes of Moses Sumney and Bon Iver, as well as developing her own sound while spending summers interning as an A&R at Atlantic Records and being exposed to the gamut of New York’s live music scene.

“I was going to so many shows as an A&R intern and seeing just how much a lot of music sounded alike,” she says. “It made me realise I wanted my music to feel different, to cut through the noise but still make something that felt honest to me.”

Beginning to independently release tracks, Soill Tab gradually built a loyal fanbase with the release of wistful early numbers “Calvaire” and “Cotton Candy” and soon found herself signed to a major label. Yet, as her career progressed through the COVID pandemic the demands of a corporate major began to conflict with her own searching style. “My last two EPs were under contract and it felt like I was always chasing the carrot,” she says, “I felt a certain pressure to put out tracks quickly and find that ‘hit’. It wasn’t the right environment to truly make what I wanted.”

Ultimately parting ways with her label, Chicha began work on a new album, exploring new sounds and ideas with her LA-based community of collaborators like producer David Marinelli, Solomonophonic, Wyatt and Austin and John DeBold, without expectation. “It became this beautiful experience of only following ideas that I really believed in and exploring all the musical avenues I hadn’t before,” she says. “I’ve never been more excited about songs and I’ve never felt like a project is more mine.”

Writing and recording while touring with Sabrina Carpenter and Wallows, Chicha road-tested her new tracks to see what might land best with an audience who had likely never heard her music before. “You have to win people’s hearts as an opener and you can see what resonates and what doesn’t,” she says. “I would watch people fall in love or not and it’s usually always the song you’re having the most fun with that does the best. That’s what I put on the record.”

« Angie », Spill’s Tab debut album is relased on because Music and expected for May 16th release.

Wie in einer Szene aus einem Traum stand Thor Harris auf einer überfüllten Bühne mit 13 Musikern: Er klopfte, zupfte, verbeugte sich und blies lyriklose Liebeslieder in ein großes Auditorium von 325 leuchtend roten Sitzen - ohne dass auch nur eine Seele darauf saß. Dies war die Entstehung von "Heathen Spirituals", das fünfte aufgenommene Werk von Harris' abenteuerlichem Ambient-Ensemble Thor & Friends und das erste, das einer himmlischen Wiederholung der Live-Auftritte der Gruppe aus Austin ähnelt. Es ist ein jahrhundertealtes Konzept: eine Platte in einer leeren Musikhalle aufzunehmen. Geleitet von Craig Ross (Patty Griffin, Spoon), einem unerschrockenen Produzenten und lebenslangen Mitarbeiter von Harris, wurde Thor & Friends zwei Tage lang verkabelt, um frei fließende meditative Stücke auf unverstärkten Orchesterinstrumenten im Jessen Auditorium, einem atemberaubenden Art-Déco-Relikt aus den frühen Tagen der Butler School of Music der University of Texas, einzuspielen. Thor Harris ist ein Handwerker, künstlerisch und anderweitig: Er ist Klempner-, Tischler- und Holzarbeiter. In musikalischen Zusammenhängen taucht sein Name oft in Verbindung mit den fünf Worten ,bekannt für seine Arbeit mit" auf, er war Mitglied der Avant-Rock-Götter SWANS und den Indie-Lieblingen Shearwater, aber auch an wichtigen Aufnahmen von Bill Callahan, Amanda Palmer, Devendra Banhart und Shahzad Ismaily beteiligt. In vielen Kreisen ist Harris auch dafür bekannt, dass er ein offenherziger Verfechter der psychischen Gesundheit ist mit einem teuflischen Sinn für Humor und einer Vorliebe für unterhaltsame soziale Kommentare (sein Lehrvideo ,How to Punch a Nazi" führte dazu, dass er im Jahr 2017 von Twitter verbannt wurde). "Heathen Spirituals", das am 16. Mai 2025 auf Joyful Noise Recordings erscheint, enthält drei Originalstücke mit einer Laufzeit von 35 Minuten. Die rhythmische Wiederholung der Eröffnungsséance ,Anne Sexton's Glasses" evoziert ein kognitives Crescendo, während das bezaubernde "Christmas Eve at the Wizard's House" ein Gefühl der Schwerelosigkeit hervorruft. Das krachende, von Chören begleitete ,Heathen Spiritual" rührt derweil ein wunderschönes Requiem für einen sterbenden Planeten an. In glorreicher Treue fangen die Sessions die instinktive Reinheit der Live-Auftritte von Thor & Friends ein.

Deranged Records and Forward! Records will release Wildhoney's first LP, Sleep Through It. The group formed in late 2011, aiming to write pop songs with the energy and malcontent of hardcore punk, but without its entrenched masculinity. The five-piece has since become one of the loudest—and sweetest—bands in its hometown of Baltimore. Sleep Through It expands on two excellent 7-inches and one cassette EP, drawing influences from '60s girl groups, '80s post punk, indie pop, and shoegaze. New songs like first single "Fall In" showcase just how well Wildhoney combines wall-of-sound power with delicate passages and gorgeous vocal melodies. Older songs such as "Super Stupid" and "Seventeen" return on the LP, newly realized and sounding better than ever. Throughout the album, the group's blasts of distortion and use of dense textures are balanced with beautiful pop tunes and chiming guitar work. The swirl of noise surrounding singer Lauren Shusterich's voice is not unlike the best of the Cocteau Twins, or even Deerhunter, especially on the soaring title track. Sleep Through It was recorded at Beat Babies Studio in Woodstock, Md., with Chris Freeland (Lower Dens, Wye Oak). The album is Wildhoney's first with synthesizers and features liberal amp and pedal experimentation. The recording process was intense and fast, cramming lots of work into a small amount of time. That hectic schedule is impossible to hear on the LP, which unravels at its own dreamy pace.

For RSD 2025 the influential band will be releasing a new double LP edition of their Nine Sevens box set of 7" records first released in 2018. Combining the run of early singles with more obscure later period tracks underlines the strength in depth that Wire had. This is pop art as art/pop and an exploration of the blank canvas of pop culture and how far that canvas can be stretched going from three minute constructs to ambient washes. The 7" single was always the ultimate artefact and statement with the A side being the band momentarily paused in time and distilled and freeze-framed into the forever with less than three minutes of electric sound. These "sevens" released from 1977 to the end of that decade, signpost the band's remarkable development from their brilliantly monochromatic early phase to the textured complexity of the almost psychedelic unzipping of their sound and vision. In some ways the compilation of Nine Sevens onto a double album makes for quite a weird documentation of the band in this period. The first disc, to some extent, follows the script of a singles / greatest hits collection but the second one goes wildly off-piste and ends up somewhere quite far from where the collection started. A conventional Greatest Hits collection, besides being conceptually a bit naff would, if strictly based on charting singles, consist of only one song! A Best Of is subjective and somewhat pointless in the age of the Spotify playlist that anyone can make. The only thing really that these tracks have in common (besides being by Wire) is that they were released or destined to be released on 7" by Wire in the period 1977-1980. - Nine Sevens is both title & elevator pitch!' Wire always understood the language of pop and also the artfulness of playing with it, deconstructing it and reassembling it into new and thrilling shapes. Decades later, these adventures into sound are like slices of delicious, perfect pop/noise and hits from a parallel universe. Track list:Side A1 Mannequin 2 Feeling Called Love 3 12XU 4 I Am the Fly5 Ex-Lion Tamer 6 Dot Dash *7 Options R * Side B 8 Outdoor Miner (single version) * 9 Practice Makes Perfect 10 A Question Of Degree * 11 Former Airline *12 Map Ref. 41ºN 93ºW Side C 1 Go Ahead * 2 Our Swimmer * 3 Midnight Bahnhof Café * 4 Second Length (Our Swimmer) **5 Catapult 30 ** Side D (154 EP) 6 Song 1 * 7 Get Down 1 + 2 * 8 Let's Panic Later *9 Small Electric Piece * * previously unreleased on vinyl album ** recorded in 1980 but not released until 2014

"After a first appearance on the "Various 1" EP, Oshana now makes her full release debut on Altered Circuits. The "Origins EP" is, in the artist's words, a collection of old-meets-new four-to-the-floor club flavours. Originating from her live set practice, it's a proper representation of where she's currently at: making a push for the bigger and bolder. Her obvious talent for meticulously stacking textures doesn't stop her from shifting to the stripped-back and straightforward when needed. The constant throughout is a sensibility for the dancefloor, which never lets anything get in the way of groove and rhythm. "Above We Soar" drops right into the action with a menacing bassline and equally gloomy synthesizer layering. The cut's gothic-black palette works a charm merging palpable tension with restraint. It builds for 4 minutes towards a drop - and then a slamming acid line succeeds in cranking the energy even up another notch. "Space And Time Dimensions" is a loopy roller which, by the sound of its reverb levels and ambient noises, might have been recorded at a missile silo. The stretched vocal samples and ever-evolving drums propel it forward in a vintage, Chicago house type way. There's a moment of calm when those briefly fall away; one of its quirky basslines subsequently makes room for a slick little polyrhythm sine, and everything clicks even more. On the other side, "Girls In The Front" doesn't loosen the reins either, as hefty kicks and another sturdy bassline immediately set the tone. The air appears charged with static electricity, and Oshana's way of niftily adding and subtracting seamlessly draws the listener into a groovy trip. 5 minutes fly by, and then the lead still has to emerge. The one that eventually comes in is huge and hypnotic. Topped off with a selection of vocals that burst with impatience, the track hints at the anthemic. Closer "Origins" taps into a more progressive and trance side with its modulated formant bassline, jittery arpeggiator lead and heavily flanged flourishes. A gust of electronic flutes and sleek chords take a turn for the - almost - idyllic. Not for long: not uncharacteristically, it switches back to the main beat and back into more ambiguous yet familiar territory."

Make Some Noise" ist nicht nur Musik: Es ist eine Grundsatzerklärung. In einer Szene, die sich manchmal repetitiv und inzüchtig anfühlt, beschließt MDB, die Regeln zu brechen und mit Klängen und Genres zu experimentieren, die normalerweise nicht nebeneinander existieren. Von der Kraft des Flamencos und der Intensität des Metals bis hin zur Seele des Blues, der Sinnlichkeit des Souls, der Aufmüpfigkeit des Punks, der Kraft des primitiven Rockabilly und der Frische des Surf ist jeder Song ein Schrei. Dieses Album fängt den Geist und die Energie der Berliner Subkultur ein, Unterschiede werden umarmt und die Kreativität kennt keine Grenzen, die Inspiration, Stile zu mischen und Grenzen zu überschreiten. "Make Some Noise" ist eine Einladung, aus der Komfortzone herauszutreten, zu feiern und zu entdecken, dass in den Unterschieden die wahre Kraft der Musik liegt.

The Scream, Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, was released late enough in the punk era to bear some claim as the first post-punk album, with only a minor traces of 'punk' (one lingering early song, "Carcass" comes to mind) and enough hints of what had come even earlier, Andy MacKay-like saxophone flourishes - to feel utterly new. Not to mention the effort producer Steve Lillywhite must have put into the album, his first fully-credited major label production. Siouxsie was clearly the focus of the band, with her unique vocal style and lyrics, but the real star, we've always known, was John McKay, who wrote most of the album's music (as well as singles like "Hong Kong Garden"), creating a wholly new guitar sound - harsh and brittle, yet melodically intoxicating . . . best articulated by a somewhat confounded Steve Albini years later ". . . only now people are trying to copy it, and even now nobody understands how that guitar player got all that pointless noise to stick together as songs". McKay's influence lives on; many of the most influential guitarists of the past four decades credit him as a major influence - Geordie from Killing Joke, Jim Reid of The Jesus And Mary Chain, U2's The Edge, Thurston Moore, Johnny Marr and even the two guitarists - The Cure's Robert Smith and Magazine's John McGeoch - who followed him in The Banshees. McKay's burgeoning status as the anti-guitar hero was halted when he and Banshees drummer Kenny Morris - at odds with Siouxsie and bassist Steve Severin - fled the band just after the start of a tour supporting the group's second album, Join Hands. It was a weekly music paper scandal, later the subject of a BBC documentary, and Siouxsie's vitriol working its way into the lyrics of a later Banshees b-side, "Drop Dead / Celebration". Aside from a solitary single on Marc Riley's In Tape label nearly a decade later, no music was heard from McKay again. So it comes as a major surprise to learn of a pile of excellent recordings made in the years just after he left The Banshees, unheard by all but a very few, some of which feature drummer Kenny Morris, plus Mick Allen from Rema Rema, Matthew Seligman of the Soft Boys and longer-term collaborator Graham Dowdall and John's wife Linda . . . the latter three of whom now all sadly deceased. Sixes And Sevens is an historic lost album. Brazenly genius and bearing fair claim as the lost treasure of the post-punk era, the album collects eleven studio tracks, carefully mastered from original tapes. It's a masterpiece which best speaks for itself.

The Scream, Siouxsie & the Banshees' first album, was released late enough in the punk era to bear some claim as the first post-punk album, with only a minor traces of 'punk' (one lingering early song, "Carcass" comes to mind) and enough hints of what had come even earlier, Andy MacKay-like saxophone flourishes - to feel utterly new. Not to mention the effort producer Steve Lillywhite must have put into the album, his first fully-credited major label production.
Siouxsie was clearly the focus of the band, with her unique vocal style and lyrics, but the real star, we've always known, was John McKay, who wrote most of the album's music (as well as singles like "Hong Kong Garden"), creating a wholly new guitar sound - harsh and brittle, yet melodically intoxicating . . . best articulated by a somewhat confounded Steve Albini years later ". . . only now people are trying to copy it, and even now nobody understands how that guitar player got all that pointless noise to stick together as songs". McKay's influence lives on; many of the most influential guitarists of the past four decades credit him as a major influence - Geordie from Killing Joke, Jim Reid of The Jesus And Mary Chain, U2's The Edge, Thurston Moore, Johnny Marr and even the two guitarists - The Cure's Robert Smith and Magazine's John McGeoch - who followed him in The Banshees.
McKay's burgeoning status as the anti-guitar hero was halted when he and Banshees drummer Kenny Morris - at odds with Siouxsie and bassist Steve Severin - fled the band just after the start of a tour supporting the group's second album, Join Hands. It was a weekly music paper scandal, later the subject of a BBC documentary, and Siouxsie's vitriol working its way into the lyrics of a later Banshees b-side, "Drop Dead / Celebration". Aside from a solitary single on Marc Riley's In Tape label nearly a decade later, no music was heard from McKay again. So it comes as a major surprise to learn of a pile of excellent recordings made in the years just after he left The Banshees, unheard by all but a very few, some of which feature drummer Kenny Morris, plus Mick Allen from Rema Rema, Matthew Seligman of the Soft Boys and longer-term collaborator Graham Dowdall and John's wife Linda . . . the latter three of whom now all sadly deceased.
Sixes And Sevens is an historic lost album. Brazenly genius and bearing fair claim as the lost treasure of the post-punk era, the album collects eleven studio tracks, carefully mastered from original tapes. It's a masterpiece which best speaks for itself. John McKay will be made available for a limited number of interviews . . . and yes, there are surprises in store.

Growing up is painful, brutal, and sometimes beautiful _ something Brooklyn-based indie-rock band Bedridden knows all too well. The band's name is even a nod to that ineffable period between childhood and the jagged edges of the real world. "When I was 21, I kind of lost my home," says frontman/guitarist Jack Riley. "I was couch-surfing. I was having a hard time.The next iteration in the band's maturation, then, is their debut, LP Moths Strapped To Eachother's Backs, 10 fuzzed-out (and sometimes gnarly) ruminations on dating, drugs, and survival out April 11 on Julia's War. The title came from a mysterious missive Riley received on astrology app Co-Star. "Last year I was way too reliant on other people _ my partner at the time, my friends," he says. "I was strapped to them in a weird way _ and flying in circles. This album is about that time."The current incarnation of Bedridden encompasses a patchwork of styles, influences, and friends Riley accumulated over the years. A Chicago native who first started making music at age five on a thrift-store guitar emblazoned with Kurt Cobain's name, Riley moved to New Orleans for college where he dabbled in punk before falling in love with shoegaze. There, he launched the first version of Bedridden. Sebastian Duzian (bass) _ a jazz musician and Pasadena native _ linked up with Riley in NOLA along with his bandmate, drummer Nick Pedroza. Pedroza, from Claremont, grew up on rock, metal, and jazz, honing his style after joining the band. Wesley Wolffe _ a guitarist fed on a steady diet of New Wave and `90s alt _ rounded out the crew just a few months back. Bedridden's previous lineup released their first EP, Amateur Heartthrob, in 2023 _ a noise-washed blend of shoegaze, DIY, and indie that Riley says is a "coming-of-age EP _ these formative stories about not having a bed, dating, being kind of a jackass. I was making fun of myself a lot." That release caught the attention of Douglas Dulgarian from Philly Label Julia's War (and TAGABOW), who signed them for Moths."Some of these songs have been around for years," says Riley, adding that they were recorded last February at Studio G Brooklyn; the album was produced by Aron Kobayashi Ritch (Momma). "As opposed to Amateur Heartthrob, we attempted to blend more clean guitars into a driving sound to capture more clarity _ one that also sounds live_ and raw," Riley says. That rawness thrums through the record, which kicks off with the thrashed "Gummy," about an incident when Riley had to gently fend off a co-worker's unwanted advances while both drunk and high on an MDMA gummy. And then there's mournful rager "Etch," which sees Riley daydreaming about beating up a meddler in his personal life _ in the minor key.The annihilating "Chainsaw" revs in next, a lightning-fast Lemonheads-inspired track that recalls Riley moving in with new roommates who were unnaturally obsessed with purchasing a lamp. "For some reason that pissed me off," he laughs; that rage is evident in the album cover, which shows said power tool demolishing a lampshade. Heavy-shredding "Heaven's Leg" showcases the band's affinity for `90s mainstays like Smashing Pumpkins while telling the tale of a gig at a local church. "The lyrics are about a pastor I had met that had lost his leg," Riley says. "The church had signs about not cussing and I had a feeling that neither of us had anything to talk about without potentially offending the other."The band's not afraid to get confrontational, though, on the anger-fueled, drum-heavy "Philadelphia, Get Me Through," which deals with a dead-end relationship and the mistaken assumption that getting drunk in the titular city would be a balm against the pain. And the nasty, brutist, and short hardcore-adjacent "MainStage"? "It's about being disrespected at a show on New Year's and how I lashed out," Riley says. "I then began to take it out on other people, which was a quality that I despise."Things get contemplative and mournful from here on out _ the emo-edged "Snare" is about bringing flowers to a hospital room where you're not welcome, while the Smiths-inspired "Uno" wrestles with self-loathing. "I guess the big finale of that song was my response to dealing with this recurring experience of feeling like I wasn't good enough by getting really into whippets," Riley says. Nu-metal bop "Bonehead," then, recalls an embarrassing dinner that turned into an argument _ the name applies both to that incident and the delicious simplicity of the guitar parts.After all that turmoil and pain, the band caps everything off with their eyes to the future on the jangle-pop "Ring Size." "All my friends are getting married _ do I follow in their footsteps? Or is it all a waste of time?" Riley says of the song. "At the end, through it all, I guess that's what I've been trying to figure out _ how to grow up, how to move on. I'm trying to navigate things as an adult and I'm not very good at it. But this is just the first record. This is just the beginning."And, hey, at least now he has a bed.

'Trá Pháidín are an Irish nine piece collective from Conamara, Galway, a wild coastal region of West Ireland where Gaeilge remains the first language. The group are currently lighting up Ireland's underground with their joyful noise, a unique and unpredictable blend of traditional Irish folk, post-rock, jazz, and Dadaist absurdity. The glorious album An 424 takes us on a psychogeographical journey along the 424 bus route which follows this remote stretch of coastline, introducing us to the landscapes and the characters who depend on the buses. Expect wild improvisational flights filled with brass, woodwinds, harp and fiddles alongside relentless grooves.

Here's what the band themselves have to say about the album:

Psychogeography is a funny aul term......the effect geography and landscape of a certain area has on the psychology, identity and nature of the local people...........I suppose

Notoriously, Conamara is famous place for psychogeoraphy due to the work of the great Tom Robinson. He walked every coastline in every area contemplating the geography, culture, history, Gaelic language, English language and folklore of the area while he was drawing it's best map with great depth and detail.

Right, so I've given context, a few buzzwords and some interesting names, now it's time for the absurd stuff....

"Bóthar Chois Fharraige" (the R336 and whatever anglicized name they call it) is well known by everyone in the South Conamara Gaeltacht (Gaeltacht is an area where Irish/Gaeilge is the dominant language, there aren't many because we were colonized by the British and our government doesn't care about its own language). The people of Conamara travel this road almost every day by car, by bike, on Peadar Óg's buses or of course, through the medium of the 424 (the bus service provided by Bus Éireann, Ireland's public-private bus company). From Bearna to Carna (maybe sometimes a detour in Casla going as far back as an Cheathrú Rua and/or Leitir Mealláin)

Every passenger is well versed of gorgeous views of the landscape that is on offer on this journey. Included are Cuan na Gaillimhe/Galway Bay, An Bhoirinn/the Burren, na hOileáin Árann/the Arann Islands,Aillte an Mhothair/the Cliffs of Moher, Portach Mhaigh Cuilinn/the bogs of Maigh Cuilinn, Bóthar Loch an Iolra/Eagle lake road, Cuan Casla/Casla Harbour, Cuan an Fhir Mhóir/Greatman's Bay, Cnoc Mordáin/Mordáin hill, Sléibhte Mhám Toirc/the Maamturk Mountains and Na Beanna Beola/the twelve pins. Passengers would also be well used the unique character of the bus. Depending on the day, you will get a unique perspective of the "complicated identity" of the Gaels as the bus travels from the Gaeltacht into anglophone Ireland, or maybe going the other way.

This is a topic you could write a PhD about (and maybe someone already has). But, if you are someone who grew up or lives in this region, you have a particular understanding at this stage of how complicated Gaelic psyche is and the kind of spectrum of identity along bóthar Choise Fharraige. With the landscape in mind, this bus journey is a great meditation of the various topics of life.

‘Bhfuil tionchar ag an mbus ar nádúr na ndaoine?
Nó an bhfuil tionchar ag na daoine ar nádúr an bhus?'

'Does the bus effect the nature of the people?
Or do the people affect the nature of the bus?'

Le gach dea-ghuí,
TP.

(translated from Gaeilge by Peadar-Tom Mercier)'

Opening DNO Records’ 2025, Clearlight returns to the label alongside new signee Sentient, bringing four creepy cuts of insectoid minimalism that reanimate the drum & bass exoskeleton.

On the A-side, ‘Mandibles’ aims to stun. Hurtling forth with hulking drums, this tunnelling rhythm is beset by swarms of glitchy percussion and synth zaps that’ll frazzle minds with their sheer chaotic energy.
‘Suboptimal’ reveals what’s lurking in the deep, as heavyweight bass and incessant kicks burrow through a murky soundscape of croaks and rattles, only to be sprayed by a chirping acid line that cuts through the mix with deadly precision.

Flip over and the Belgian-British pairing delivers two extended jams. The seven-minute ‘Psychodrifter’ is packed with an overdriven low-end that crackles and heaves like it's trying to talk with a mouthful of bees, while globular whoops and twinkling pads squirm and beckon like bioluminescent lures.
‘Kukulu’ is longer still, building and building and building in intensity. Waves of warning bells and skittering background noise, bongo flourishes and spurts of grinding bass come together with hive-mind-like cooperation to form an enrapturing epic.

Another example of visionary world-building from the DNO camp, the ‘Mandibles’ EP will wriggle down your earhole and have you itching for a dark basement full of bass bins.

Rhythms of postmodern realism at the very bottom of the DNO.

Nothing is lost on Cash Langdon. It’s something you can hear in the observational lyrics of his last record, 2022’s Sinister Feeling; but on its follow-up, Dogs, you can also hear it in the camaraderie he cultivates playing live with his band Meadow Dust, a sonic energy that gives off the heat of his native Birmingham. The trio’s fuzzy take on heavy country rock has a worn-in no-fussiness that recalls Neil Young & Crazy
Horse – nothing overthought, nothing understated. And like Young, Langdon’s voice is simultaneously earnest and world-weary – but there’s a sense of humor, too, and a resignation to keeping on (“Dogs,” “Magic Again”). Recorded at Portside Studios (the former location of the legendary Muscle Shoals Sound) in just two days, engineer Brad Timko (Dan Sartain, St. Paul and The Broken Bones) captured Langdon and Meadow Dust at their fiercest yet. The title track “Dogs” and side B heater “Dead Dogs” both take inspiration from the wild dogs Langdon encountered in his neighborhood at the time of writing the record, where he wondered about the sick twist of fate that renders one dog a pet and another a threat. Across songs, he examines how oppressive cycles overlap, intersecting the personal and the societal at all times. The heavy yet melodic “Lilac Whiskey Noise” is the heartbeat of the record, written following an active shooter event that Langdon witnessed at work in 2016. It’s an indictment – not of the perpetrator – but of the systems of power that enable such an act. It’s a microcosm for all of the themes on the album, too: the ongoing violence of simply being awake to the world around you, and the resolve to stay awake anyway.
On the crunchy album-closer “Nothing’s Good Anymore,” Langdon sings about overhearing someone say just that – and you can tell he’s tempted to agree. He’s going to find what kernel of beauty he can. Dogs is a sonic map for finding that beauty in just about anything.

Ben McElroy is a folk/experimental/ambient artist based in the UK. He has released prolific albums since his 2016 debut ‘Bird Stone’ for whitelabrecs. Notable releases since then include 2018s ‘The Word Cricket Made Her Happy’ for Eilean Rec and 2022s ‘How I Learnt to Disengage From The pack’ on The Slow Music Movement (which was folk album of the month in the Guardian).

«This album evolved from long improvisations on pump organ and cello. I really wanted to play the instruments as a form of therapeutic release, a kind of stimming, paying more attention to this than the Appollonian aspects of the music. So scrape and repetition… anger and using the bow/keys to really try to gnaw into deep, old brain feelings.
I often start things with improvisations, but then tidy, smooth things out… I wanted to keep that aspect to the minimum here.. there is some, but where possible I’ve kept the squeaks, the noises, the mistakes.
The project took on another dimension when I received some funding from PRS Foundation, allowing me to bring more artists (Debbie Armour on vocals, Elinor Rowlands on spoken word and Nick Jonah Davis on guitar). Where possibly, these collaborations were also improvised, in the moment and left a little raw.
The funding also allowed me to create an accompanying film ‘Widdershins & Deosil.’ Shot with filmmaker Benjamin Wigley on 16mm film in Derbyshire, it is an abstract story of magic and puppetry using elements of the album as soundtrack.» - Ben McElroy

Process of Elimination explores sickness as a teacher for anti-capitalist modes of being; a rewilding of the self. The product of an attempt to be indestructible, this sickness has an unknown diagnosis. The only route to determine the indeterminable is via a process of elimination. Eliminate the noise so it may quieten and make space for listening to what whispers underneath, allowing a return to the present moment. Slowness and queerness as technologies, questions as answers and mysticism as a path to healing when science alone does not suffice.

London-based multidisciplinary artist El Hardwick’s sophomore album follows their experience of becoming chronically ill after years of treating their body like a machine. El explains: “After failing to receive a diagnosis, which is only given via a lengthy process of elimination, I instead turned to autonomous modes of healing rooted in mysticism and herbalism; putting aside the need to be defined. My journey towards accepting my disability is told in parallel to my coming-out as trans. I also see my non-binary identity as a process of elimination: I am neither gender, both, in-between. It is through rewilding myself from capitalism and gender normativity that I learn how to connect to my body and the earth; no longer allowing either’s energy to be extracted from. The less I sought answers, language, metrics and analysis, the more peace I found.”