quête:deep inside

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

Because Sound Matters' meticulous One-Step process creates the definitive sounding audiophile version of k.d. lang Ingénue. This all-analog release comes from the original first-generation master tapes for the first time. Vinyl guru and editor Michael Fremer says, "This k.d. One-Step is insane – It's otherworldly great!"

This One-Step version is strictly limited to 3,000 copies. The album is housed inside a top-quality, foil-stamped, uniquely designed numbered slipcase. The enclosed gatefold jacket will feature an "old style" tip-on jacket with the original artwork.

Special care has been taken to faithfully preserve the original sound with exceptional clarity and depth, capturing the recording's nuances and subtleties at every step to create the best sounding record possible.

The One-Step process is highly regarded among audiophiles and collectors for its unparalleled sound fidelity and represents the pinnacle of vinyl manufacturing craftsmanship.

Ingénue was originally released March 17, 1992 and is k.d. lang's second solo album.

Upon release, the album charted at #18 in the US, #13 in Canada, #3 in the UK and Australia and #1 in New Zealand. Nominated for six Grammy® Awards with the breakout single "Constant Craving" winning a Grammy® Award for Best Female Pop Vocal Performance. "Miss Chatelaine" and "The Mind of Love" were follow-up singles.

k.d. received universal critical acclaim for the album from publications like Mojo, Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, Uncut and dozens more! Today, Ingénue is a true classic album and considered one of the great audiophile recordings of the modern era. This One-Step version certainly proves that!

Notes for This Release:

Ingénue was originally recorded and mixed on analogue tape and produced by Greg Penny, Ben Mink and k.d. lang. The original analogue master tapes were directly used as the audio source for this One-Step pressing! This is the first time the analogue tapes have been used as a vinyl source for this brilliant recording. The results are stunning.

Because Sound Matters used the Neotech VR900-D2 180g High-Performance vinyl compound, which is the same as what is known as Super Vinyl – the best in the world.

Chris Bellman at Bernie Grundman Mastering cut the lacquers with meticulous care! He also did the original mastering of the CD release in 1992.

Dorin Sauerbier at Record Technology, Inc (R.T.I.) has been plating records for decades and is considered the best in the world – he also has done more One-Step processing than anybody. This is a vital step in the process to ultimately delivering the absolute best sounding version of Ingénue ever.

Record Technology, Inc did the pressing – using the exact pressing machine used for so many other One-Step releases. The QC team is constantly monitoring each copy as it comes off the press.

Because Sound Matters' slipcases and gatefold "old style" tip on original art jackets were printed by world-renowned Stoughton Printing Company.

This new all-analogue edition will draw you into the music as never before—at least it did me. The sonic picture is rich, well-textured, harmonically saturated, spatially deep and all the rest of the audiophile buzzwords that no doubt the producers (who include lang) intended to give listeners but until now couldn't fully deliver. The musical flow will have you swooning in your seat. Before the opener 'Save Me' concludes you may already feel overwhelmed and in need of lifting the stylus to catch your emotional breath...What a treat!
-Michael Fremer, Tracking Angle, Music 11/10, Sound 11/10

Finland’s Nightwish have always stood for virtuoso perfection. They are able to evoke fantastic dream worlds, fade out time and space, and touch you deep inside with their symphonic majestic compositions. Since their formation in July 1996, they have risen long ago to become the most successful Symphonic Metal band.’Endless Forms Most Beautiful’ is their critically-acclaimed 2015 (8th) studio album.

TYRON is a tale of two halves exposing human complexity. Just as with the narrative of his own life, there are always two sides to every story. Side one re-introduces us to the classic hubris, machismo, and braggadocio typical of rap music. Side two takes what you thought you knew about slowthai and flips on its head. ‘feel away’ and ‘nhs’ go some way to dip a toe inside the complexities of his mind but delve deeper and you’ll be left with a clearer understanding of who he truly is. Honesty is paramount as ultimately Ty wants listeners to know that “it’s ok to be yourself”.

TYRON was formed against the backdrop of an unforgiving climate where judgement, shaming and underdeveloped and simplistic conceptions of other people are fashionable. Instead of succumbing to such simplicity, TYRON presents an artist who is unabashedly complicated and willing to explore themes of loneliness, identity, self-acceptance, and the difficulties in becoming an individual. Unlike the political overtone of slowthai’s debut album ‘Nothing Great About Britain’ which took listeners on a journey through slowthai’s turbulent upbringing and his stance on British life – this self-titled follow up, TYRON is a melodic dive through the expansive landscape of his feelings. His ability to bear his imperfections and contradictions makes TYRON an album that is the antithesis of a culture of purity. A resistance to the rising tide of moral one-upmanship and the pervasive self-righteousness that blinds us to our own fallibility.

After more than two decades of taking the underground by storm, Nightstalker return with their most colossal and bold statement yet: "Return From The Point of No Return". More than just a continuation of their career, this seventh studio album is the moment they transcend everything they have accomplished in their thirty-year history. As soon as the rip-roaring, banger-heavy fire of the anthemic opening track "Dust" sets your stereo ablaze, you're in for an epic ride. On "Return From The Point of No Return", Nightstalker's signature sound of gritty, massive blues-laden riffs and hypnotic grooves crowned by the commanding vocals of legendary frontman Argy Galiatsatos has gone deeper, darker, and more expansive. It's a record that speaks to the soul as much as it pounds the body, leaving you wondering how you ever lived without it.

After more than two decades of taking the underground by storm, Nightstalker return with their most colossal and bold statement yet: "Return From The Point of No Return". More than just a continuation of their career, this seventh studio album is the moment they transcend everything they have accomplished in their thirty-year history. As soon as the rip-roaring, banger-heavy fire of the anthemic opening track "Dust" sets your stereo ablaze, you're in for an epic ride. On "Return From The Point of No Return", Nightstalker's signature sound of gritty, massive blues-laden riffs and hypnotic grooves crowned by the commanding vocals of legendary frontman Argy Galiatsatos has gone deeper, darker, and more expansive. It's a record that speaks to the soul as much as it pounds the body, leaving you wondering how you ever lived without it.

“Form itself, even if completely abstract... has its own inner sound.”
— Wassily Kandinsky

We are thrilled to announce the release of Objection To Form, a protean dispatch from the fringes of 1980s-inspired wave and raw, rugged electro. Driven by arcane machines and imbued with a melancholic urban atmosphere, Objection To Form offers a warped, modern-day response to the sonic landscapes forged by the likes of Chris & Cosey, Shoc Corridor, The Normal, and Cabaret Voltaire.

Spanning eleven tracks, Objection To Form explores electro-tinged wave that resonates with today’s creative pulse. From the lo-fi machine sounds of Alpha Sequenz’s Dawn Lines and the rugged jams of Fiume’s Haïti Market Daze, to the implacable Electro cadenza delivered by Le Syndicat Electronique, the compilation unfolds like a fragmented narrative. L.F.T.’s Inside I Was Screaming, a cavernous, electro-wave anthem featuring the mythical British band The Children Of Leir, adds a deeply resonant dimension, while the relentless drive of Beau Wanzer’s The Johnnie’s Secret Sauce underscores the compilation's protean spirit.

Objection To Form delivers a forward-looking sonic experience—a space where experimentation meets timeless resonance.

After a near-total silence of twenty years, Edith Frost is back again, and in full bloom with In Space. Her first new record since 2005"s It"s a Game is just in time - the world needs Edith"s voice back in the conversation. And her ineffable way with a tune . . . It seems Edith needed something, too: from the notebooks of her long hiatus, a line like "I say too much/I wait too long/I wait forever/And notice that it"s gone" speaks volumes about feelings of lack. Overwhelmed by the demands of day-to-day living and the details and anxieties that always come, Edith squirreled herself away for as long as she could - only to find herself isolated, spun even farther into the doldrums. In Space isn"t simply a song-cum-album title so much as a very real exploration of the remote place she"d found herself, with her songs registering this recognition and measuring the vast distances between herself, the life that is and the life that was. It was the only way back in! Over the years away, Edith was immersed in music everyday, and spent lots of time learning - in addition to new lyric perspectives, her reinvention of herself as a keyboard player is one of the waves lifting the album In Space. The keys suggested different places within Edith"s harmonic palette; for us listening, this attenuation seems to create a deep focus on emotional life within the songs and a breathtakingly visceral presence in the performances. Her voice as well, in all its iterations, sounds quite fine and vital. The songs, as ever, are low-key brilliance elevated by the vitality of Edith"s voice. Mark Greenberg, alongside longtime Frost A&R man Rian Murphy, brought fresh arrangement ideas to complement the strange-new-world vibe of Edith"s songs. Recorded at The Loft in Chicago, with invaluable contributions from Jim Becker (Califone, Air Blue Gowns), Sima Cunningham (Finom, formerly OHMME), Bill MacKay and Jeff Ragsdale, In Space feels like the most Edith Frost record yet made, pulled from deep inside with great feeling, awash in harmonized voices and - more often than ever before - featuring her own playing. Alternatively approaching and avowing connection, Edith"s crafty songwriting orbits the human exchange with an increasing sense of possibility. It"s what the world needs the most of today.

"Has there ever been music that so much represents the fact that electronic sound exists between the dead and the living?" - by Chihei Hatakeyama. The ultimate improbient that pursues the original human way of dealing with sound, imagining the very sounds that emerged from people's activities long ago. This is the first vinyl release of a 2007 masterpiece by KEN IKEDA, known for his collaborations with computer music pioneer CARL STONE, DAVID TOOP a leading figure in the British experimental music scene, and Japanese jazz saxophonist AKIRA SAKATA. KEN IKEDA is a musician and artist who emits primitive and original electronic sounds, known for "DAM," a collaboration with CARL STONE, recorded inside a huge dam approximately 40 meters high and deep, and works on the label "ROOM40" run by Australian composer LAWRENCE ENGLISH. Remastered by Chihei Hatakeyama, a leading figure in the ambient to drone scene.

Kate Hudson’s not sure what took her so long, especially with all the music whirling inside her. That hunger for musical expression from the woman who embodied the rocker’s muse in Almost Famous runs deeper. “I always felt connected to music. It was my outlet.” Natural and easy, there’s both self-examination and celebration flowing through her songs. She understands the phases of modern music in a way that’s fluid, but defined, honest, yet willing to leave it all at the door in the name of love.

Powerful works of art have traditionally sprung from some source deep within an artist and, if they strike the right tone, resonate with an audience to leave a lasting mark. But what if that equation were reversed: what if an artist were to draw their inspiration from deep within their audience, and use that to reflect those ideas, emotions, hopes, fears, pains and aspirations back to us?

Over a two year journey, audio-visual artist and electronic innovator Max Cooper has inverted the creative process by collecting hundreds of anonymous quotes, posing deep but open questions such as "What would you like to express which you cannot in everyday life?" and "What is it like to exist inside your head?"

The goal: to understand what it is truly like to be human right now. The result: his new album On Being, to be released in February 2025 with the first single "Sun In A Box" coming this September 4th.

With On Being, Cooper aimed to probe under the synthetic surface of social media to "create a snapshot of our minds these days," as he puts it by asking people to share anonymously what they dare not ever say publicly. The result is an emotionally raw and shockingly honest kaleidoscope of confessions, ranging from suicide contemplations to miserable marriages to simple pure loneliness, contrasting with hundreds of anonymous confessions of love and longing.

"I was interested in the way I interact with people for my writing process, which usually involves a one-way communication of feelings and ideas that I later find out whether they resonate with others or not," says Cooper.

"With this I could start instead with people's thoughts and feelings, what resonates for them, and make my own interpretations of those musically and visually, and then send those back out to everyone. It's more of a collaborative approach to making an album, and more intense."

Grief, hope, regret, joy, hurt and love form the basis for each track, taking Cooper's ever-evolving creative process in a completely new direction - with profoundly intense results.

"Rendering the experience of being is at the core of what I do musically - but I hadn't realised the impact that other people's words on being would have on me until I started reading the database of thoughts," he says.

"It was like finding a secret window into everyone's minds, and discovering amongst the chaos, pleasure and pain, the experiences that we all share at different times of our lives, and overwhelming emotions and connections that call out to be explored."

Despite what we see in the maelstrom of rage in the echo chambers of society ‘On Being’ reveals that humans still have an innate need to trust one another and express communal generosity - more easily done from the safety of an anonymous portal.

"The quotes carried so much weight for me - I interpreted them with my usual musical tools, but as you can hear in the music, everything got more extreme as I dove into the depths of what everyone had to say later in the record," says Cooper.

The result is a unique work of art that demonstrates unequivocally not only the power of using music without words to express emotions, but the power of words to express what seemed to be inexpressible.

On Being will continue to evolve as Cooper gathers more confessions to feed into this ecosystem of emotions and to create a new range of art projects and other accompanying works which hopefully will speak truthfully to humanity today - and of who we are and who we can become.

All the shades of green. Plants. Water. The absolute necessities of life. Music, too, is an absolute necessity. To capture both color and sound in a bottle to put atop a piano like a houseplant. A clock. A fern. Synesthesia. This music is meant for that. To close your eyes and see green. To drown in the color of piano. A melancholic covey that pulls hard on the heart strings musically and lyrically, brushed over with a plethora of improvisation in smooth watercolors.

With Tim Hill’s new trajectory, we are offered a fresh neuron sprawl, branching beyond lyrics in interrupted pieces of sound. He takes our reptilian brains and welds them to our unborn futures, placing us inside of his droplet. Here, we're forced to reflect out, something singular multiplies, nature brings her face in, something shifts, our speed changes, the Self refracts and what's left jumps on sustained lines that eventually arch into meditation milk. It becomes a karmic cleanse of the amygdala, a launch from normal feeling life. Tim takes the risk, committing to diving deeper into his own bottomless pool of art, gifting us with sensory treats that dilate our old perimeters. It's sky as theatre, handing out everything but answers to questions. And where do we go? Where starlight mingles. Where minds never land.

A seasoned musician in all forms, Tim Hill has toured the world as a keyboardist, guitarist, saxophonist, and drummer, with a long time stint with LA group the Allah Las, and well known acts such as Nick Waterhouse, Curtis Harding, PAINT, and others.

Semi Delicious kick start 2025 with a very special EP from Amsterdam based producer D Stone. Following a slew of releases on labels like 803 Crystal Grooves and Cecille he delivers a killer 4-tracker that epitomises his deep, percussive house productions. Teeming with superb sampling, rolling drum grooves and basslines that’ll keep the dance flowing!

In Todmorden, the oddly-named market border town in West Yorkshire with a habit for embracing the weird and wonderful, a burst of sunshine is a precious thing. Through the thick of Winter, through every season in fact, the town’s folk are used to the wind and rain, fog and mist. As much a part of the town as the trademark deep valley it sits in, here the lay of the land invites the weather in, just as it does the many musicians, artists, and unique characters that have come to call the place home over the centuries.
Bridget Hayden is one such soul who found a home among these hills. The experimental musician, who invites the ghosts in for the classic folk songs that make up her stunning new album, knows only too well about such weather, how rare and treasured the breaks from it are. Her favourite thing to do in the valley, she says, is “to make the most of every tiny minute of sunshine.”
Such aspirations nearly derailed the recording of Cold Blows the Rain, her new eight-song collection released via the Todmorden- based label Basin Rock. Having hired the town’s Oddfellow’s Hall to record these new songs in the late summer of 2022, Hayden says the weather was so good she ended up basking in every second of it, only moving inside to begin recording when the sun was setting, working deep into the night to make up the time.
There’s a good chance, however, that it had to be this way. The songs that make up Cold Blows the Rain are not made for the sunlight. They come, instead, wrapped in mist and coated with drizzle, those elements shaping the album as much as the voice and the instruments held within, as real but ambiguous as the ghosts that linger in the shadows. The sound of the dark valley floor.
Mostly centred around meditative and experimental improvisation, Bridget’s work to-date has seen her spend more than two decades recording and performing on the underground music scene. She’s also toured internationally both as a solo artist and as part of bands such as Schisms and The Telescopes, while working on various side-projects with the likes of Folklore Tapes.
For all of this sonic exploration, so much of her work has been formed around elements of traditional folk aesthetics and, over time, she began to piece together a collection of reinterpreted traditional songs that she absorbed as a child from her mother: through The Dubliners and Muddy Waters, to Bessie Smith and The Leadbelly Songbook. Harvesting her love for Nina Simone, Karen Dalton, Margaret Barry, and more, Bridget takes these traditional songs and transforms them into something uniquely evocative
"It goes back to the womb,” Bridget says of that connection. “I would not call it a memory as it is so deep within my blood and bones. My mum was the source, she sang all the time, as part of life. So it was a very lulling and natural introduction. It seemed common to hear her singing – unbeknownst to her – in time with a raindrop dripping at the window,” Bridget continues. “I’ve always wanted to do a folk record as I love these songs so much. It comes much more naturally to me to sing other people’s words, especially when they’re as beautiful as these old verses.”
Underpinned by waves of analogue reverb, and led by Bridget’s stirring and weather-beaten voice, the songs on Cold Blows the Rain drift and crawl like low heavy clouds on flat-top hills, shaped by the land. The backdrop is equally as arresting, all subtle gloom cast in shadow, a gentle but pronounced swirling of textures, crafted from harmonium and violin courtesy of The Apparitions (Sam Mcloughlin and Dan Bridgewood-Hill).
“The weather speaks the most eloquently about human loss,” Bridget says, articulating such sentiments. “It’s good to feel enveloped by something so much vaster than ourselves. The rain and the tears all become one.”

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy.

Taking our time has become a sort of ESP modus operandi, often proving that when variables are left to cook long enough—relationships, styles, politics, moments in culture—we may collectively yield a more considered result. Once in a 'Blue Moon', we set sights on a record that conducts some strange voodoo, some rare combination of elements that commands our entire being. Entering our atmosphere with a concise 6-track debut, dub technician Brendon Moeller has brought us exactly that. Although we’ve long been admirers Brendon’s work, separated by only a few degrees—he and ESP’s Lovefingers are the same age and shared a decade of salad days in New York City—it took another decade before enough courage was mustered to suggest we actually work together. Our reticence has seen Brendon’s aesthetic and palette evolve over the years, and the label has simultaneously sculpted a tone of its own, but now we’re more than proud to finally marry his highly refined output with our, let’s say, “deliberate” appetite. 'Blue Moon' touches everywhere Brendon has been as an artist—from the obtuse corners of ambient to IDM, dub techno to liquid drones and bass—yet the vocabulary is honed and succinct, relying on a very intentional handful of expressions. This is almost an exercise in restraint, all 6 tracks are delivered from a disciplined and committed point-of-view, but what we find most captivating is the exploration that this allows in terms of depth, texture, fluidity and pacing. There is a complexity hidden in plain sight that begs to be studied, a comfort that allows us to slip inside like a warm bath, an addictive tingling sensation that we must prolong indefinitely. Even as we write this testimonial, the album is going on a fourth repeat and we languish the intervening silence between tracks. This is being under the spell of Brendon’s 'Blue Moon'.

Christened ‘High Tide’ after the sudden rising of the LA River basin during a particularly epic and rare rainfall, this cosmic slop funk jam was born from the minds of Devin Flynn (Pixeltan) and Eddie Ruscha (Secret Circuit), two individuals with a deep connection to Los Angeles’ tap water sources. While traipsing through the aisles of an Atwater Village bodega, the two mustered up a plan to create a rhythmic piece so delectable as to turn peoples’ heads inside out and pummel the senses with a wobbly Jah Wobble bass sound and a toy drum machine ‘no toy’ style back beat. They figured if they laced it up with enough electronic scuzz, the masses would be sure to want to sip from its nectar.

When DFA got wind it was all systems go and, from then on, all relevant parties knew that they should sit on the track for at least five years before it was released, otherwise the world at large would not be ready for it. The remixes are by Eddie himself - as Secret Circuit - and Dr. Dunks, aka Eric Duncan, a fellow Angeleno (at least at heart). Eric and Devin rolled through the streets as small children, shredding curbs and tagging local ice cream trucks, so it was inevitable they would reconnect and jam on ‘High Tide’.

Devin Flynn is an animator, musician and teacher who has worked on projects like Gary Panter’s web series Pink Donkey & The Fly and MTV2’s Wonder Showzen. He has previously released on DFA with Pixeltan, a trio - Flynn, Hisham Bharoocha of Black Dice and singer Mika Yoneta - that recorded with The DFA at the label’s inception, creating two seminal singles.

Eddie Ruscha is another DFA veteran, having remixed artists including Wolfram and Museum of Love. He has been making music for decades, as Secret Circuit and with myriad other aliases and collaborators, in addition to recording under his own name. He has released on labels like Beats in Space and Emotional Response, among others.

For fans of Young Marco, Suzanne Kraft, Prins Thomas, Khotin, Gaussian Curve.

Hypnotism I is a new album from Foundation that the artist himself says has been a cherished part of his work since shortly after his previous work Mountain Ambient IV. We're told that its creation was a slow, immersive process that unfolded over months, with each layer evolving patiently. By composing intuitively, the album emerged naturally to reflect a glacial depth and subconscious growth. Its four pieces are all richly layered soundscapes with wispy melodies and dusty drones that sink you in deep and free your mind of all woes.

To close out the year, Life In Patterns presents Spektrum II, the second installment in the compilation series curated by Ferdinger. This 16-track VA, scheduled to release in early December 2024, comes as a double vinyl with four digital bonus tracks and download codes.

Spektrum II ventures into the depths of dynamic techno, combining driving beats with intricate, groove-rich patterns. The compilation seamlessly shifts from deep, dubby tones to bright, euphoric moments, embodying the labels signature sound. Its a bold exploration of diverse sonic textures, blending harmonic and dissonant elements for an immersive listening experience.

After two years in the making, Wyatt E. seals their long-awaited return in 2025 with the highly anticipated narrative sequel to "al beluti darû": zamaru ultu qereb ziqquratu Part 1 (Music from inside the Ziggurat); is the first chapter of a set of 2 concept albums in which the band deepens its exploration of ancient Babylon with an almost mythical approach through the eyes of the exiled captives from Jerusalem. Featuring contributions from 7 international collaborators, zamaru ultu qereb ziqquratu is poised to become one of the most ambitious projects in the doom scene in terms of production & conception and will be released by the finest label in the genre: Heavy Psych Sounds. The album pushes sonic boundaries by featuring two drummers recorded simultaneously, creating the immersive effect of distant crowds. An eclectic mix of instruments, including the saz, viola, sitar, and bugle, blend with both analog and digital elements to enrich the soundscape. A nod to Turkish composer Faz?l Say is also present, with a quotation from his symphony Mesopotamia. For the first time, two vocal tracks appear alongside the instrumental pieces. Iranian singer Nina Saiedi lends her ethereal voice to "The Diviner's Prayer to the Gods of the Night," sung in Akkadian, while Jerusalem's choir conductor, Tomer Damsky delivers a captivating performance of Im Lelya in Aramaic adding a deep vocal layer to the album. The final mix, crafted by renowned producer Tim De Gieter, known for his work with Amenra, Brutus, and Absent in Body, brings everything together with a masterful touch.