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On his second album for Bruk, hoyah חיה continues to take an unflinching look at his Jewish identity while confronted with the heinous actions of the Israeli state. Echoing the name of his Refuge Worldwide radio show, he examines the shared histories of the Jewish diaspora across the Middle East and North Africa — from Morocco to Uzbekistan and everywhere in between. Can I Get A Chayah? is an honest attempt to explore what Judaism could become at a time when the culture faces an existential crisis.

The sonic approach hoyah חיה takes on Can I Get A Chayah? is central to the album's theme, as hard-gated processing on every sound creates a disorienting effect aiming for a kind of 'functional transcendentalism'. From the opening strains of preceding single '808s n Trance Gates' the jagged stop-start intensity of the samples sets a head-spinning tone for the album. The source material comes from across the aforementioned Jewish diaspora, challenging the nationalist idea of the single Jewish state.

Balancing beauty and aggression, hoyah חיה also reaches to a strong cast of collaborators to round out his cultural explorations. Principle among these is the late David German, the US-born guitarist and songwriter behind Silver Jews, whose repeated, bewildered mantras on 'Shalom Aleichem' embody hoyah חיה's own struggles with faith in the face of current horrors. Internationally celebrated Turkish-descent German musician Derya Yıldırım graces 'Talmuds' with her haunting vocal — a tribute to ancient Jewish mysticism that gets passed through the album's unrelenting sonic framework. On 'The Lock' Muha tackles African transcendentalism, while Rael pulls no punches with the questions he poses on the barbed 'This Song Has A Different Title But It Can't Be Published Here Because Of "Reasons"'.

With further prayer recitals on 'Lekha Dodi' and 'The Nose' and videos examining the psychedelic nature of reading the talmud and repetitive prayer movement shuckling, hoyah חיה has taken his research deep into the spirituality of his heritage at a time of crisis for Jewish identity. Naturally, Can I Get A Chayah? is not an easy listening experience, but neither is it a bleak one. There is beauty, mystery, complexity and nuance woven within the stark approach — an intentional, considered statement on a culture much deeper and wider than the barbaric acts of an unrepresentative group of twisted ethno-nationalists.

In a sharp-angled, fiercely inventive reflection on the nature of club culture and digital fatigue, Simo Cell and Abdullah Miniawy reunite to deliver their new album, Dying is the internet, to Dekmantel's UFO series.

French producer Simo Cell has blazed a singular path from his dubstep-influenced origins to become a leading light in contemporary leftfield club music, twisting up adventurous rhythms and flamboyant production in pursuit of a perpetual freshness for the floor. Egyptian singer, poet, producer and composer Abdullah Miniawy has become equally omnipresent in the past 10 years, straddling the arts world and leading with his piercing Arabic lyricism while maintaining an eternally curious spirit that leads into open-ended, experimental music from the abstract to the propulsive.

Following up on their 2020 EP for BFDM, Kill Me Or Negotiate, Miniawy describes their sharply focused new album as "a playful prophecy about the triggers of a new global revolution." Cell considers the title, Dying is the internet, to be a mantra about "how the internet lost its soul," becoming "less about sharing ideas and more about surviving in a digital business ecosystem." Deliberately at odds with the reel-ready two-minute attention span of the average social media surfer (i.e. everyone), the pair set out to make an album that takes its time to reveal nuanced ideas and expressions. Rather than one-note despair for the modern malaise, Cell and Miniawy offer a philosophical reminder that this present moment in the human experience is a temporary phase, no matter how overwhelming it feels.

Dying is the internet finds Miniawy experimenting with auto-tune across the record, while Cell has developed his voice design chops and compositional instincts, moving closer to fully realised song structures without losing the fundamental 'clubbiness' of each track. The result is a cohesive, wildly original kind of heavyweight dance music that slings out hooks left right and centre, from Miniawy's laconic trumpet looming through low-slung 'Reels in 360' and 'Travelling In BCC' to the persistent handclaps that bring 'Living Emojis' to life. Miniawy's poetry explores the power of insistent, repeated phrases in a break from his more typically structured form.

Kenyan powerhouse Lord Spikeheart adds extra snarl to stripped-back, slow-burn opener 'I See The Stadium', but otherwise Dying is the internet is purely the work of Miniawy and Cell casting their considerable chops out into unexplored territory. The results are electric, bound together by a consistent economy of sound that burrows into a shroud of bass-heavy minimalism barely masking Cell's incredibly detailed studio flex. Even the beatless flourish of the Miniawy-produced 'Tear Chime' comes loaded with physicality — a sensory rush at the mid-section of the album bookended by some of the most idiosyncratic club music in recent memory.

Both Simo Cell and Abdullah Miniawy have already proved themselves as fearless innovators across different fields. The strength of their partnership lies in their ability to make space for each other while letting their distinctive sonic identities ring loud and true. Dying is the internet has immediacy and physicality to translate over a soundsystem, but its intricacies are purpose-built for repeat visits and contemplation, unveiling hidden dimensions the deeper you dive into it.

The first resonant space Zosha Warpeha played in was the Emanuel Vigeland Museum in Oslo, Norway. Built as a mausoleum, its walls reach up into a gradual archway, creating an environment where sound expands and reverberates for twelve seconds before decaying into silence. Warpeha was greeted only by dim lights when she entered, and it wasn’t until she had spent several minutes listening that she was able to make out the frescoes that covered every inch of the room: graphic depictions of the cycle of life from conception through death. As the sound of her Hardanger d’amore encountered the walls and these slowly emerging scenes, they obscured its point of origin in both time and space, augmenting its own life cycle. The experience sat in the back of her mind over the next several years as she developed her own patient style of composition and performance, one that comes into full bloom on her new album I grow accustomed to the dark.

When Warpeha was selected as an artist in residence at Brooklyn’s ISSUE Project Room in 2025, she saw it as an opportunity to more intentionally explore how her music might fill a room with ample natural reverb. I grow accustomed to the dark documents two single-take solo performances for Hardanger d’amore and voice at IPR, with both pieces composed in a unique tuning system developed to interact with the space itself. Listeners can trace resonance from the contact of the bow on gut strings into the body of the instrument, its five sympathetic strings offering another layer of refraction, before the sound is thrown about the cavity of the room. The echoes emerge like a photographic double exposure, or wisps of smoke that linger in the air, creating ghostly harmonic convergences that blur the line between what is there and not-there. Sound begins to act like light, a synesthetic alchemy that transforms drones into beams and ornamental trills into flickers.

Both side-long compositions, “filament” and “visual purple,” exemplify a duality that animates Warpeha’s music: an expressive, individualistic style that draws on extensive knowledge of her instrument’s history in folk traditions, and an austere, devotional quality maintained by focus and precision. Though very different in character and structure, both pieces evolve slowly through numerous repetitive phrases, passages of stillness, and bursts of intensity. “filament” opens with a cycle of delicate melodic fragments played and sung around a drone before blossoming into an outpouring of swooping arpeggios, harmonics flying from the strings like sparks off a bonfire. The disorienting pulsation of harmonic beating forms the core of “visual purple,” the close-tone dissonance building to a swarm of open strings ringing boldly throughout the space. After the knotty tones reach their climax, the piece collapses into studied quietude, hushed, but without any drop in intensity.

When Warpeha first visited the Vigeland Museum in 2019, she was in Oslo to deepen her relationship to the Hardanger fiddle through the study of Norwegian traditional music, which is primarily passed down aurally. The experience of learning songs by ear, not only internalizing the tune but also absorbing the techniques and tonalities by listening, was a crucial step in her development as a composer. The years since have seen her sharpen those skills as a prolific member of the New York avant-garde and improvised music communities. Warpeha’s music encourages listeners to join her in this journey, to listen closely with each repeated phrase and through each dramatic shift. Like the frescoes on Vigeland’s walls, with time and intention, the depth of I grow accustomed to the dark comes on like a revelation.

A heartfelt slice of deep soul, Girl I Love You showcases Melvin Green at his most tender. Warm vocals, understated grooves, and undeniable sincerity make this a timeless slow-burner built for repeat plays.

Demetrio Castellucci and Massimo Pupillo present the music of Sleep Technique, a performance by Dewey Dell inspired by the Chauvet cave and its ancient cave paintings.
The music comes to life anew on record, an immersion into the depths of sonic particles, moist electroacoustic rhythms, the repeated forms of speleothems, and the electric bass that scrapes the walls, shaping them into concave or convex surfaces. A voice that moves incredibly slowly, yet is in constant motion, like the millennia-old, unceasing erosion of water.
The album’s journey follows the geography of the cave in reverse, moving from its deepest chamber back to the entrance.

Demetrio Castellucci is a composer and sound designer who has been involved in theater productions, choreography, and film since 2004. Around the same time, he began performing as a DJ, favoring an omnitemporal approach geared toward dance that transcends musical genres. Since 2006, he has been a member of the dance company Dewey Dell, and since 2007, he has been active as Black Fanfare, a maximalist electroacoustic project. He has collaborated on performances by Andreco and Enrico Ticconi/Ginevra Panzetti, as well as on films by Ahmed Ben Nessib, Beatrice Pucci, and Ilaria di Carlo. After living in London and Berlin, he settled in Vilnius, where in 2018 he founded Unarcheology, a digital platform that publishes music and radio programs. He is also active as Airport Gad, an ambient project which, together with Unarcheology, launched its own “Airline Company”: concerts in a flight simulator built from cardboard, where the pilots are also the musicians.

Massimo Pupillo is best known as a founding member of the band Zu, with whom he has released 18 albums and performed over 2,000 live shows worldwide. He has maintained a highly open and multidisciplinary approach that has led him to work with some of the most acclaimed figures in the contemporary art world: South African photographer Roger Ballen, actors Malcolm McDowell and Marton Csokas, Romeo Castellucci and Chiara Guidi of Societas Raffaello Sanzio, American choreographer Meg Stuart, poet Anne Waldman, and Italian poet Gabriele Tinti, among others. He has collaborated live and in the studio with avant-garde musicians and composers such as Alvin Curran, piano duo Katia & Marielle Labèque, and classical virtuosos like Viktoria Mullova and Giovanni Sollima. He has also worked with some of the most influential names in the international rock scene, including Mike Patton, Thurston Moore, Jim O’Rourke (Sonic Youth), Guy Picciotto & Joe Lally (Fugazi), Buzz Osborne (Melvins), and Damo Suzuki (CAN).

In the field of improvised music, he has collaborated with Peter Brötzmann, Toshinori Kondo, Mats Gustafsson, Ken Vandermark, and Tony Buck, among others. Within the experimental music scene, his collaborations include Oren Ambarchi, David Tibet (Current 93), Thighpaulsandra (Coil), Stephen O’Malley (Sunn O))), Abul Mogard, Mick Harris (Scorn), Gordon Sharp (This Mortal Coil), FM Einheit (Einstürzende Neubauten), and many more. In cinema, he composed the score for Kirill Serebrennikov’s film LIMONOV, presented at Festival de Cannes in 2024.

Iñigo Medina aka M4 explores the profound convergence of two disciplines that share a common foundation: the manipulation of vibration and resonance to transform consciousness and space: Yoga and Electronic Music.
While Yoga balances the body's energetic vibrations through breath, posture, and meditation, electronic music employs sustained tones, slowly shifting sequences, and atmospheric textures that induce trance states and align with meditative brainwave patterns.
"Reset Series" is characterized by atmospheric, non-danceable soundscapes built on repetitive sequences and arpeggios that slowly evolve, often processed through delay and reverb. Both yoga sequences and M4 compositions (the full track is almost an hourlong, divided into two parts) unfold gradually over extended durations . Each practice invites a journey inward, guiding the practitioner or listener through layers of repeating motifs that subtly transform, revealing deeper states of awareness with patient attention.
Time becomes elastic; space becomes internal; vibration becomes the universal language connecting body, environment, and sound.

Brooklyn's elusive Tom returns with the first release on Sweet Breeze Sound, a new label launched by Washington, DC's Marc Meistro of Sol Power All-Stars, aka Glenn Echo. He has already turned heads with a fine set of 12"s on Razor-N-Tape and Sol Power Sound, and here brings some dubby disco grooves and infectious samples. Side A leans into loved-up feels, looping an irresistible 80s r&b vocal over bouncing bass and layers of percussion. The B-side shifts to a more melancholic mood and is run through with a feeling of longing through a single repeated phrase supported by deep dub bass and driving disco rhythm. This is a great inaugural release from a label sure to become essential.

Kaninchenbau label head The Funk District has joined forces with Argentinian keys specialist Sokur for a new four-tracker that collides bluesy samples with sleek electronic grooves. 'Till My Feet Got Numb' kicks off with waves of synth energy run through with sampled vocals that hark back to Robert Johnson. 'Never Satisfied' is another mix of funky drums, jazzy pianos and crackly blues vocals that is unusual but effective. 'Took My Babe Away' repeats this combination, this time with hints of St Germain in the melancholic spoken words and ever more thumping and acid-laced beats. 'Sunshine From The Sky' completes the quartet with more hurried grooves laced with wonky synth work. It's peak time stuff with plenty of deeper meaning.

Limited to 250 copies !

The Deadheads had never had much luck with spaceships. Their first mission had ended in a catastrophic engine failure, leaving them adrift in deep space for weeks. This time, their craft was hardly more reassuring. A hodgepodge of outdated technology and shoddy repairs made it more of a floating death trap than a reliable cruiser. As they began their descent toward the strange planet, the hull creaked and rattled, sending a wave of dread through the crew.

"Hold on," Matt's voice crackled over the intercom, without much conviction, as if he himself doubted they would make it out alive. Outside, a thick, grayish atmosphere swirled ominously, while the planet's gravity became far stronger than anticipated.

“Fuck, we’re gonna burn at the entrance!” M yelled, his hands flailing on the console as sparks flew from the control panel. The ship’s sensors were completely jammed, and the navigation system flickered intermittently, like a dying light. Below, the planet’s surface was a tangle of lava rivers and jagged rock formations, the kind of place no sane person would ever land. But the Deadheads had never pretended to be. They lived in a state of constant emergency.

As the descent intensified, the alarms blared. On the bridge, the screens lit up with red warnings and flashing messages: "SYSTEM ERROR," "UNSTABLE TRAJECTORY," "SUIVITY SYSTEM COMPROMISED." The lines of code scrolled by too quickly to be read, while a mechanical voice repeated relentlessly: "Imminent impact. Structural integrity at twenty percent."

The once pristine shell of the vessel began to disintegrate, with shards of metal breaking away and disappearing into the atmosphere.

With a final, piercing screech, the ship crashed onto the planet's surface, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. The crew was violently thrown from their seats, stunned but barely alive. They struggled to their feet amidst the wreckage, the ship reduced to a charred shell around them.

"Well," M said, wiping the dirt off his suit with a grimace, "at least the air is breathable." Matt scanned the hostile expanse stretching before them and smiled slightly. "Perfect. Let's hope we have better luck with the planet than with our ships."

With that, the Deadheads gathered their equipment and headed into the unknown, while the remains of their ship slowly sank into the unstable soil of the planet.

This is the first new Andy Boay album since 2013’s In The Light. I recorded it in January 2024 to a Yamaha MT8X 8-track cassette recorder in my room at the New York Center for Creativity & Dance in the East Village of Manhattan.

I mixed it in June 2024 with Joe Santarpia and Roberto Pagano at the Idiot Room in San Francisco. The three songs on Side A (“HBM,” “If I Ever Come Off,” and “You’re In The Air Now”) were initially arranged over several live performances using a multi-track looper. When I then sat down to track them to my tape machine, I meticulously sang and played out all repeating parts, layering and ping-pong-bouncing each doubled take to another tape-track. In this way I hoped to maintain the hypnotic quality of the looped parts while keeping them organic, singular, and fleeting. Side B is a triptych of more carefully arranged pop songs: a tremolo & mod-delay elegy to youth called “Careless,” bookended by two variations on the same theme — the stark, mellotron prayer of “One & One” and the lonesome after-hours funk of “I Want More”. The line “You took that walk for the two of us” has a dual meaning. In 2011, my friend Spencer Gilley took a long walk through Montreal while listening to demos I’d recorded.

He described the experience to me as magical, ecstatic, inspiring. His encouragement from that moment still echoes every time I sit down to write or record. Less than a year later, I met Florida musician Thomas Fekete. We formed a deep, brief friendship that lasted until his death in 2016. Thom entered my life during a chaotic time and helped me find direction and courage. He took me on a tour that shifted the course of my life. We bonded over surviving cancer as young men, Florida’s noise scene, and the strange lives we led as touring guitarists (he in Surfer Blood, me in Mac DeMarco’s band). Thom could always warmly anticipate all of my joy, humor, and curiosity—and all of my pain, anxiety, and fear. In this way, it felt like he was also taking that walk for the two of us—gently guiding me down a path he had already traveled. Andy Boay (Andy White) began playing and recording music as a teen in Orlando during the early 2000s, exploring noise, psych, and pop in bands and solo projects.

He has played in the duo Tonstartssbandht with his brother Edwin since 2007. He spent six years playing guitar in the touring band for Mac DeMarco. Andy Boay’s music taps the euphoric and the sorrowful, both onstage amongst friends and strangers, and tracking alone at his 8-track in the studio. These days he lives and works in the East Village neighborhood of New York City.

MAL welcomes Hiroshi Takakura aka Element & co-owner of Riddim Chango Records with a heavyweight session of deep roots mutations and dynamic steppers.

A truly unique and well loved character, Hiroshi is one of Japan’s key figures for dub wise experimentation and this release presents a decade of influence distilled into a selection that bridges Jamaican and UK lineages with a very personal slant.

The centrepiece, ‘Longest Summer Pt.1 & 2’, is a radical remake of the theme from Fruit Chan’s Hong Kong cult film. He flips the wistful, naïve melancholy of the original alongside deep bass weight and syncopated hats with a slink and roll that feels as well suited to the steaming tarmac of LA as any smoke laced, late night Blues dance.

Born from the momentum of live set preparation, the raw sketches that make up the ep were shaped into full-blown dancefloor weapons, particularly the percussion-heavy, tribal mayhem of the title track, ‘Motion Exchange’.

All in all the release captures a snapshot of heady obsessions: UK roots and dub pressure channeling echoes of Jah Shaka, Jamaican dancehall’s roughneck energy, and a wide selection of experimental electronic influences from the early 80’s to the present day.

Motion Exchange delivers a weighty steppers sound that honours its roots while pushing into bold, forward-thinking territory.

Like Element’s sets, this is music for the rig but has layers of detail that reveal themselves on repeat listens and in selector tradition, the EP offers multiple versions for extended play.

A further milestone in MAL’s journey, with Takakura charting heavy new territories in modern dub. RIYL 5 Gate Temple / Bokeh Versions / Lord Tusk / Seln etc.

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Clear Vinyl. Luxurious jacket with embossed logo and details plus cut-out on the side. Explore an emotional sci-fi game with a unique blend of survival, adventure, and base-building elements. Help the sole survivor of an ill-fated space expedition create alternative versions of himself to escape a hostile planet and tackle personal turmoils with this unconventional crew. 11 bit studios, the creators of the award-winning games This War of Mine and Frostpunk, present The Alters, an ambitious sci-fi survival game with a unique twist. You play as Jan Dolski, the lone survivor of a crash-landed expedition on a hostile planet. To survive, you must form a new crew for your mobile base. Using a substance called Rapidium, you create alternative versions of Jan -The Alters- each one shaped by a different crucial decision from the protagonist's past. The one-of-a-kind soundtrack for The Alters was created by Piotr Musial best known for his compositions for games like The Witcher, Frostpunk and This War of Mine. For The Alters, Musial chose to stray from the obvious path when it comes to this genre of games and head for something more original: "While many sci-fi soundtracks these days favor the sound of analog synths, the idea behind the music of The Alters was a bit different. We wanted the music to feel more untraditional and mix digital, glitchy elements, unstable reverb with organic sounds, all of which together could support this unique story." With this approach, Musial dove deep into the world of The Alters to turn abstract ideas and atmospheres in very concrete music: "We aimed for the planet to feel overwhelmingly strange and hostile at first. The music starts as more abstract and based on dense atmospheric sound design. Our circular base, a place of safety and comfort inspired to create a theme that 'goes round' by a repeating leitfmotif. You will always feel at home there, unless there's something bad happening, and that's where the theme will get changed, broken." Musial further explains: "One of the key elements we get to discover in the game is the Rapidium crystal. A strange mineral, with yet unexplored properties. We felt like it could have its own theme too, and therefore, wherever you find it, it 'sings' to you with it's strange, bassy voice, supported by a trace of live recorded strings, that were digitally destroyed to create this translucent texture, that sound unlike the real thing. A glitch crystal, is what they call it after all. But the more we explore the planet, the more the story we uncover. We wanted the music to gradually gain momentum and show the leitfmotifs more often, guiding you through emotional moments, fun moments, tough ones, reaching a grand finale. I hope you'll enjoy this ride." Enjoy playing and listening to The Alters!

Recorded in concert at the University of Sheffield in March 2025, Reality Is Not A Theory is the first collaboration between Mark Fell and Pat Thomas. Major figures in British experimental music since the 1990s, Fell and Thomas have developed their rigorous practices from radically different backgrounds and perspectives: where Fell’s singular take on synthetic abstraction emerged from Sheffield’s electronic underground, Thomas is a virtuoso improvising pianist steeped in jazz and modernist art music who has simultaneously worked with sampler-based electronics for decades. As the record’s wonderfully academic subtitle explains, we are presented here with two sides of ‘algorithmic and improvised music for computer and piano’, exemplifying both players’ insatiable search for new (and sometimes uncomfortable) playing situations.

The performance begins with Fell’s electronics close to the timbres of acoustic percussion, attacks that suggest wood, metal or glass threaded along a rapid pulse while Thomas focuses on the lowest registers of the piano, deadening the strings. As Fell’s electronics start to ring out and occupy more harmonic space, Thomas turns to wide, repeated clusters, which slowly expand into patterns of chords. Like in his recent solo recordings and his trio work with Joel Grip and Anton Gerbal, Thomas’ playing combines extreme dissonance with a deep lyrical sense. Fell’s work gradually shifts its focus toward drum sounds, drawing on the microtemporal processes that have characterized his practice in recent decades. Heard together with Thomas’ probing piano, the computer sounds call up unexpected associations with the klangfarben antics of improv drummers like Paul Lovens or Tony Oxley. Throughout its second half, the music grows increasingly frenetic, as Thomas sounds out rapid, irregularly repeated figures and beautifully sour chords in the upper register, while Fell’s percussion develops into angular pan-pipe-like feedback and waves of glissandi.

With great confidence and patience, Fell and Thomas often let their individual contributions remain rhythmically distinct and unsynchronised, allowing unexpected correspondence and coincidence to guide the music’s development. Recorded in a hall named after Sheffield steel manufacturer and Master Cutler Mark Firth, the location might suggest a model for understanding how Fell and Thomas interact here: two workers in the same workshop, each immersed in their own part of the production process. Arriving in a striking sleeve designed by Mark Fell, with liner notes by Francis Plagne, Reality Is Not A Theory is an invigorating document of the meeting of two mavericks of contemporary music.

Voal — Vand and Shoal — reveal five more cuts on their home label Isotoop, taken from the pair’s time living together in Utrecht. Whereas the debut EP, ‘Saffron’, dropped the listener into psychedelic aesthetics and atypical rhythmic structures, the sequel ‘Jinx’ has a more crystal-cut vision of club music, made for no less exploratory dancefloors.

Possessing a natural progression almost as fluid as a contiguous live set, with imagination each track can form the basis of the next through the fingerprints of a barely-perceptible ghost leaving a piecemeal narrative impression, an exposure in negative that develops over repeated exposure to the five versatile tracks.

Relative to Saffron’s sidestepping repertoire, this latest EP goes for the jugular with insistent club dynamics from the get-go. Summoning steps on air, a self-contained package of breezy dancefloor initiation and escalation, all-in-one, and from the foothold of this thermal vortex Crosswind ups the drama with storm-hued dynamics and blustery club debris.

The knife of aesthetics is freshly sharpened for the flip: Jinx takes the record out of earthbound atmospheres and deep into sci-fi territory. A jigsawwing bassline seems to drill ever-deeper into an expanding landscape, as it does so uncovering small sonic treasures locked in the bedrock. A mirror to this scene, The Chain digresses with bubbling verve and psychedelic strut, a combo-finishing left hook that simultaneously holds playfulness alongside dour dramatics, a duality shared by vinyl-exclusive closing track Ouah, which blows out the lights with a smirk, and premium hallucinatory dub psychosis.

Noumen returns to Central Processing Unit after a six-year absence with Altum. This bumper record, the Ukrainian artist's fourth release for the Sheffield label and first since 2019 double-LPObscurium, serves to remind us all why Noumen's music has been lauded by the likes of Mixmag and Resident Advisor in the past.Altumis a consummate piece of contemporary electronic production, a technoid exploration of outer-edges electronica that nods to genre greats like Autechre while still maintaining its own unconventional charm.

Across well over an hour of music here we find Noumen repeatedly playing punchy mid-tempo beat work off of some more cerebral tuned synths.Altumkicks off with the epic 'Oion' - beginning in that Autechre/AFX mid-tempo zone, full of deep-sea bangs and whirrs, the track slowly builds to a final stretch of delay-drenched keys which set us free amidst the outer cosmos, almost Sun Ra-style. It's a perfect liminal-space roller and an apt scene-setter forAltum.

'Oion' provides a blueprint for several of the album's other highlights - plenty of the joints here adopt that same approach of hitting hard with the drums and soft with the synths. Second track 'Splitter' takes on the baton from 'Oion' while souping up the kick to warehouse levels; the beats in 'Far Wind' splutter like a needle skipping on a mid-90s Tresor drop; 'Fate Carette', all eerie looped synth leads, is a highlight as the album enters the home straight.

The rhythm production (which, it should be noted, is exemplary throughoutAltum) is ratched up in intensity on a handful of numbers. 'Telemask' displays a delightful breakbeat - if you'd told me this was sampled from golden age A Tribe Called Quest, I'd have believed you. Mid-section anchors 'Awe' and 'Axis' are glitchers in the Mike Paradinas mould, with the latter showing off some pleasing steel pan-esque synth leads for good measure. And whileAltumgenerally maintains a processional pace throughout, there are points where Noumen toughens up the drums for club deployment - 'Unveilness' shows off a real chunkiness in the low end, closer 'Spurling Sign' plays a satisfying rolling groove off of ever-layering synths, and the title-track is an alien machine-funker in keeping with fellow CPU electronauts like Silicon Scally and Cygnus.

Noumen's third album for Central Processing Unit is a pleasingly hefty double-LP which builds on the zany invention of acts like Modeselektor and Autechre to delightful effect.

FFO: Autechre, Aphex Twin, Modeselektor, Bochum Welt, LFO

WRWTFWW Records is very happy to announce the first-ever vinyl release of Japanese electronic music producer Virgo's unheralded sophomore album, Remnants, a sleeper underground hit from 1999, now finally available as a limited edition 45rpm cut double LP housed in a heavyweight sleeve.
Released only on CD in 1999 by Tokyo-based cult label FORM@ RECORDS, Remnants is a quietly visionary record: mellow ambient techno, fluid electronica, and soul-laced atmospherics with the spirit of Detroit close to the heart. As the follow-up to his essential debut Landform Code, Virgo expands his palette here - working in widescreen textures, warm synth tones, and patient, emotive arrangements that feel both intimate and cinematic. The result is lush, heartfelt, and simply brilliant - a late '90s statement that rewards deep, repeated listening.
Remnants sits comfortably alongside the era's best explorations in soulful techno, ambient, and IDM, recalling the sensibilities of B12, The Black Dog, Ian O'Brien, and the lineage of labels Warp, Likemind and Clear, while remaining distinctly Virgo - subtle, sophisticated, and unexpectedly moving.
The album is released alongside Virgo's Landform Code, also available on vinyl for the first time ever, as part of a collaborative reissue series between WRWTFWW and FORM@. It aslo signals more archival treasures to come : vinyl pressings of FORM@ compilations Art Form I (1997), Art Form 2 (1998), and Re-Form Ver-1.0 (1999).

In 2005, Felt 2: A Tribute to Lisa Bonet brought together two of underground hip-hop’s most respected voices of the time—Murs and Slug—for a second collaboration that felt looser, livelier, and more charismatic than its predecessor. The album captures a moment of creative freedom, where both MCs were firing on all cylinders, trading verses with sharpness, humor, and effortless chemistry. Their interplay reflects a deep mutual respect and a shared drive to push boundaries while keeping things rooted in style and substance.

Working with different producers for each volume allowed Murs and Slug to bring a unique energy to each release, and Ant’s masterful production was central to the chemistry of Felt 2.


With roots in classic soul and West Coast bounce, his beats created a warm, funk-laced foundation that allowed both rappers
to experiment with new cadences and ideas. Rather than lean on moodiness or melodrama, the soundscape of Felt 2 is expansive, colorful, and rooted in rich, infectious rhythm—an aesthetic that has aged gracefully and continues to draw new listeners into its orbit. While undeniably fun, Felt 2 is also structurally tight and full of moments that reward repeat listens. The chemistry between Murs and Slug is effortless, and their shared sense of humor, timing, and respect for the craft creates a lasting impression. It’s a standout entry in the canon of early-2000s indie hip-hop, and one that’s long overdue for a proper vinyl reissue.

In 2005, Felt 2: A Tribute to Lisa Bonet brought together two of underground hip-hop’s most respected voices of the time—Murs and Slug—for a second collaboration that felt looser, livelier, and more charismatic than its predecessor. The album captures a moment of creative freedom, where both MCs were firing on all cylinders, trading verses with sharpness, humor, and effortless chemistry. Their interplay reflects a deep mutual respect and a shared drive to push boundaries while keeping things rooted in style and substance.

Working with different producers for each volume allowed Murs and Slug to bring a unique energy to each release, and Ant’s masterful production was central to the chemistry of Felt 2.


With roots in classic soul and West Coast bounce, his beats created a warm, funk-laced foundation that allowed both rappers
to experiment with new cadences and ideas. Rather than lean on moodiness or melodrama, the soundscape of Felt 2 is expansive, colorful, and rooted in rich, infectious rhythm—an aesthetic that has aged gracefully and continues to draw new listeners into its orbit. While undeniably fun, Felt 2 is also structurally tight and full of moments that reward repeat listens. The chemistry between Murs and Slug is effortless, and their shared sense of humor, timing, and respect for the craft creates a lasting impression. It’s a standout entry in the canon of early-2000s indie hip-hop, and one that’s long overdue for a proper vinyl reissue.

A hill repeating its own name.

Ben Beinn — mountain mountain — an imagined summit, recursive and unstable.

Poole’s new album Ben Beinn follows 2024’s In a River Shadow, and deepens his exploration of environment, voice, and abstraction. If the previous record moved with flowing water and submerged hymns, Ben Beinn climbs into elemental instability: passing storms, coded skies, and sodden ground.

Across ten tracks, Poole entangles the Celtic New Age sound world — traditional instrumentation (flute, low whistle, bagpipe, piano, strings) — with synthesis, environmental recordings, and abstracted voice. The sound palette is tactile — marked by microtonal harmony, swelling dissonance, and a breathy naïvety. Voices in Gaelic, Norwegian, and English surface and dissolve, stretched beyond recognition — more weather than word.

The album’s title refers to a tautological hill — Ben Beinn, or “mountain mountain” — a recursive site where motifs surface, fracture, and re-emerge. On 365 Days of Rain, rainfall data becomes a rhythmic lattice that slips from metrical order. 1000 opens the record in cinematic emergence: mountain icicles and frozen streams swell into strings and breathy melodic weight. Pulling from the connective folktales of hill and mountain trolls — “Dance for a thousand years,” Poole writes, “for jeg har sovet tidlig så lenge.”

Recorded in Scotland between 2024–2025, Ben Beinn draws from environmental recordings of frozen hill passes, storm drains, and peat bogs using contact mics and hydrophones. Rather than simply reflecting place, these recordings press against it — layering the sonic materiality of landscape with synthesis and song. An inflection point between fabrication — folk music as performed identity, a carrier of story — and its obfuscation through digital networks, where tradition is refracted into plural forms.

Musical reference points include the emotionally saturated textures of Inoyama Land, the folk-electronic hybrids of Eli Storbekken, the hyperrealist collage practices of Noah Creshevsky, and the disquieting sonic simulations of James Ferraro. While Ferraro captures the uncanny surfaces of networked life, Ben Beinn turns inward — toward a located listening, shaped by weather, memory, and terrain.

The second in a triptych that began with In a River Shadow, Ben Beinn continues Poole’s excavation of environmental and folk material through contemporary methods. If the first record submerged itself in flowing water and submerged hymns, this one is shaped by the slow pressures of land and sky — a music of erosion, recurrence, and elemental presence.

frozen reeds presents Mark Fell’s ‘Psychic Resynthesis’, an instrumental work performed by Explore Ensemble. This double LP is the label’s 8th release, arriving 13 years after its foundation.

Fell is a multidisciplinary artist, composer, and theorist based in Rotherham, UK. Renowned for his rigorous and conceptual approach to electronic music and sound art, his work explores the limits of structure, rhythm, and perception through a blend of computational systems, philosophical inquiry, and cultural critique.

Over the last decade, Fell’s practice has visibly shifted from a world of technical intricacy and myopic microdetail to one of collaboration and community. He has purposefully sought out diverse musical partners from a wide variety of traditions and disciplines and found equally diverse ways to work and create together – not to integrate their playing into a musical fusion, but rather to discover how such combinations of approaches and experience can stimulate unique and heretofore unheard results.

The music here emerges from a commission for contemporary chamber group Explore Ensemble, situating Fell’s work in a new context entirely. Having been a notable critic of classical music’s slavish adherence to traditional musical notation, “the score”, and its associated issues of control and hierarchy, one might expect a provocative or abrasive approach. Instead, a work of deep, tonal introspection unfolds - an elegant structure navigating the artist’s antipathy for linear or timeline-based musical approaches.

In Fell’s selection of timbres and events, the dynamic of composer and performer is interrupted by his twin adoption of system and flexibility. Mathematical determination and sonic fixation vie for dominance. The conflict governing combinations. Upsetting preconceived strategies.

Published in an edition of 777 double LPs, with included digital download, the result, ‘Psychic Resynthesis’, represents both a prismatic object for repeated examination and an abstruse table of musical correspondences.