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Capturing phantom drones behind dusty beats and haunted twangs, Ellis Swan and James Schimpl return for their third album as Dead Bandit. Locked into a musical language unique to their collaboration, the duo once again put us out to pasture across broad sonic plains, drums flapping like loose fence panels in the prairie breeze and bass rumbling like distant thunder. True to their previous two records, Swan and Schimpl keep the strung out guitars at the front of what they do, whether playing a naked, desolate strum or running six strings through disruptive effects processing until they're barely recognisable.
But while there are details of disturbance when listening to Dead Bandit's self-titled record up close, the wider impression is a smoother, more direct affair that toys with post-rock complexity and matches it with the emotional weight of melodic simplicity, gentle grooves and conscious arrangements. 'Weeds' offsets its languid fuzz guitar with shimmering sustained notes before settling into a patient, heavy-hearted composition charged with heartbreak leads pealing out in the middle distance.
By comparison, 'Glass' has a smoky, half-hidden backroom quality. Its brushed whisper of a beat, lingering guitar drones and subtle sub bass come on like a dub wise flip of a sad-eyed country ballad. The mood maintains on 'Half Smoked Cigarette', which captures the grey sky sullenness of post-punk and reframes it in the seductive isolation of rural America. While there's a thickness to the sound on these most direct of tracks on the album, there's also fragility inherent to the sound world Dead Bandit have been shaping out over these past few years.
'Buttercup' swaps sadness for sinister undercurrents, once more drawing on fulsome low end to fill out the sparse threads of instrumentation up top. 'Pink' finds a steady momentum for its own brand of brooding mystery, the sharp end of the beat bringing focus to the many-layered approaches to the guitar which roundly define the Dead Bandit sound. There's an even clearer direction mapped out in the vintage drum machine pulse of 'Koyo', all the better to carry swirling effects treatments and moody melodic figures. Even in these ominous climes there's space for plaintive, endearing hooks which land as the most direct phrases in Dead Bandit's musical lexicon to date.
The fundamental sound across this album holds true, but Dead Bandit are never bound to a singular practice. 'Lucien's Bitters' strikes up a pronounced drum machine beat which comes on like 90s downtempo, and it feels like a natural vessel for the heavy, shoegaze tinted lament of the guitars. At every turn, Swan and Schimpl prove their affinity for all kinds of approaches, and yet the end product is a deeply cohesive, immediate listen that shows just how clear their creative vision really is.

Three years on from the desolate beauty of their debut, Quindi Records is proud to present the second album from Dead Bandit. The ghosts of their past endeavours still haunt their guitars, but on Memory Thirteen the duo's delicately dishevelled Southern gothic feels tonally distinct from their prior outing.
Dead Bandit is Ellis Swan and James Schimpl - the former a noted solo singer-songwriter from Chicago with a penchant for eerie, witching hour murder ballads and the latter an accomplished Canadian multi-instrumentalist with a bias towards heartworn, roaming soundscapes. Their instrumental collaboration has an open, lyrical quality which says as much as any spoken line, and on this album they've especially embraced the power of contrast as we're guided between scenes, sometimes within the confines of one track.
'Peel Me An Orange' is especially instructive in this regard, beginning as a blown-out paean to sonic degradation and the acute sense of hopelessness it projects, only to yield to a lilting tape loop of twanging guitar before entirely widening out in an emphatic burst of post-rock optimism.
Post-rock isn't noted for its banal cheeriness as a genre, and Dead Bandit aren't about to lay down feel-good drive-time anthems, but the sense of pulling at extremes of energy and introspection show Swan and Schimpl to be testing the emotional limits of their weatherbeaten sound. The cautiously sentimental mood of 'Blowing Kisses' hints at the hard-won light which can be encountered while pointedly driving into darkness.
Sometimes noise is a subtle device - a looming bed of unease under the forthright pluck of Swan's distinct guitar tone or the cracking round the edges of a beaten up drum machine. On 'Memory Thirteen' the distortion on the bass becomes a central figure in its haggard waltz, while 'Staircase' and 'Perfume' leave the signal wet until the delay feedback becomes the body of the riff. Either way, the sound is never left untouched as Swan and Schimpl grow more comfortable in their exchange, blurring their respective sonic languages as they expand their shared vocabulary to create an album of depth, difference and devoted distortion.

Includes Download Code and Special Insert Drawing !
Quindi Records continues to yield intriguing prospects as we reach the third edition, moving from Woo's astral ruminations via Cabaret Du Ciel's sonorous meditations on to the dusty, dusky mantras of Dead Bandit. Maintaining the ambiguous creative practices of the label's previous releases, From The Basement r eaches to the earth for the malleable grit of post-rock while making the most of the broader sonic outlooks afforded by kosmische and electronic effects processes.
Dead Bandit are Chicagoan songwriter Ellis Swan and Canadian multi-instrumentalist James Schimpl. Swan has previously released solo works including the stunning, inward-looking album I'll Be Around, a lo-fi Southern gothic dragging the husk of country ballads through battered signal chains. In Dead Bandit, Swan and Schimpl's artistic vision casts its gaze outwards on a vast expanse, where the distortion has space to stretch its legs and the drums pound out into open space. There's a common tonality at work here, the duos guitars telling a thousand hard-bitten tales where Swan's voice falls silent. It's no surprise to learn Swan and Schimpl's reference points include Neil Young's Dead Man soundtrack, SF noise rockers Chrome and the imperial work of the late, great Mark Sandman of Morphine.
You can sense Jim Jarmusch's America just lingering behind the road-weary thrum of 'These Clouds' and detect the shadow of Tom Waits lurking in the raunchy lurch of 'FF M'. The pointedly titled 'Sedated' calls to mind the slowcore movement and its rejection of rock n' roll's fixation on speed. Instead, tonality and atmosphere are key across From The Basement , although the ambient lull of 'I See Her There' is the exception rather than the rule. Dead Bandit's desert sound has vibrancy and immediacy to match its moodiness, from the sultry swagger of opening track 'Mud' to the bold and borderline bombastic 'When I Looked Around'.
Like the previous Quindi releases, this record is inherently experimental in nature, but not at the expense of its warmth and instant appeal. From the basement, an inquisitive pair with primitive tools look out and imagine a colossal plain as the canvas on which to paint their picture

We Are The Robots Vol. 01 – Hypnotica Colectiva 25

Hypnotica Colectiva drops a fresh wax cut: We Are The Robots Vol. 01 — a heavyweight double vinyl release that channels the raw energy of the crew’s legendary club nights and distills 15 years of sonic exploration across electro, broken beats, and IDM textures.

Marking catalogue number HCR025, the Valencia-based imprint doubles down on its underground ethos, curating a ten-track lineup from artists deeply connected to the collective’s orbit. Each contributor brings a distinct flavor of robotic sound design.

Every track has been handpicked for its club impact, conceptual depth, and ability to resonate with the aesthetic of We Are The Robots — a party series that’s been pushing uncompromising electro since 2010. Expect a full-spectrum journey: from cerebral synth workouts to gritty analog pressure, industrial atmospheres, shadowy breaks, and raw minimalism.

Artwork come courtesy of Dani Requeni, keeping the HC Records design language sharp and functional. Steve Voidloss handles mastering duties, ensuring each groove hits with precision.

Mastered by Voidloss at Black Monolith Studio, London.
Artwork, Label art & Designs by Dani Requeni.
All rights reserved.
HC RECORDS
València, 2025.

Autorisierte Deluxe 2LP Ausgabe des von Henry 'Junjo' Lawes produzierten 'Evil Curse of the Vampires'.
Original Greensleeves zusammengestellter Dub-Klassiker, entscheidende Auswahl von Junjos klassischen, von Roots Radics angetriebenen Rhythmen, aufgenommen bei Channel One und gemischt von Scientist bei King Tubby's.
Das remasterte, ikonische Dub-Album ist jetzt mit einer zweiten Disc mit den Original-Vokalversionen versehen.
Streng limitierte einmalige Halloween-Pressung auf orangefarbenem Vinyl.

Limited Loser edition on dark green vinyl. There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.

There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.

Tape

There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.

Drawing the night in around his private, unnerving vigil, Ellis Swan returns to Quindi Records with an album of cracked beauty and haunted balladry. The Chicago-based singer-songwriter debuted on the label last year with a collaborative project called Dead Bandit, a vividly produced instrumental set in thrall to the badlands and a laconic, languid Americana.

Under his own name, Swan records intimate, poetic songs in a stark fashion, so fragile they might disintegrate in between your fingers were you to pick them up. He draws the microphone close to pick up every whisper and drags the music through layer upon layer of tape fuzz, leaving room for atmospheric impressions which loom out of the walls like the ghosts of past misdeeds. These pieces play on the natural distortion and delirium which occurs at the farthest end of the night - the hour before dawn might hope to break the veil of darkness.

Swan's is a hauntological sound, but like the late Israeli rockabilly icon Charlie Megira his process strikes a spooked tone past revivalism and out of time or place. The only anchor which places Swan anywhere is the subtle presence of Katherine Swan providing lyrics to '3am' and lyrics and backing vocals to 'It Could Be Worse'.

The impression cast is of one man and his guitar, but there are other textures tucked into the music - the muffled murmur of a drum machine or a low frequency organ hum, some desolate piano, other treated percussive impulses which might well have been the work of incidental sprites while the four-track was rolling.

There are fuller cuts like 'Evening Sun' and the title track '3am' which play with structural dynamics and creep out of the shadows a touch, while passages of plaintive, instrumental unease such as the hypnotic, mantra-like 'Chinatown' protract the space between songs. 'Swing' lolls between moments of bottomless silence and a discernible, rickety funk, and 'Puppeteers Tears' teases out a buried drama. But primarily, it's the light touch of 'Horses Bones' and tin can tenderness of 'She's My Sweet Summer Storm' which spell out the spellbinding character of 3am; a singular creation fusing the best qualities of folk, blues and Americana with a fearlessly experimental sound palette.