Suche:detu

On "The Best EP", Chengdu-based artist B.AI shows she can not only write memorable hooks but can do so while covering a broad array of registers. One of her most enticing feats is her ability to make the minimal, electro and tech house genres she navigates her own by injecting them with a unique sense of melody. "Nightdreaming" is a moody builder: although new, sturdily patched layers keep being introduced and the pace never slows down, a sense of restraint remains. This atmosphere quickly changes on "Satisfy", which, with its tapestry of indeterminate arpeggios and EBM-evoking vocals, takes a nervous turn. "The Best" on the B-side is a slab of vigor tailored for the peak time. Set to an effective bass groove, modulated chords, white noise sweeps, delicately mixed moans and bright pads nearly trip one over another. On "Crash Landing On Nimas" B.AI , together with Diego Santana, unleashes a batch of detuned and portamento heavy square wave patterns. The EP, diverse yet balanced, ends on a note so ominous...

repressed !

Office 04 circles in memories: The record is about Johannes 'Iron Curtis' Paluka's time at Karl-Marx-Straße Berlin where he used to live next door to label head Baaz and graphic designer Chris Fladung.
A1 track 'Magnet' is an ecstatic piece of house music holding all elements IC's production is esteemed and loved for : Heavy, unrelenting kicks, rolling bass lines, shimmering pads, topped with searing hot yet gamelan-like synts and an icing of slightly loose, detuned organ stabs predesting grand emotions on any dance floor. 'What happened happened' surely marks up as another proof of Curtis' fearless takes on house music: distorted field recordings and blurred spoken words, a web of gossamer melodies and subtle clicks and cuts, all cohered by the louche bassline and the reshuffled groove in a true dilla-ish vein.
Adapting elements to their own agenda, clandestine groove explorers Berg turn 'What happened' into a true midnight roller: razor-sharp hihitas join forces with a steam-maschine like percussion, whipping relentlessly in-between kick drum and kick drum. Berg cools off their take with prancing melody motifs and strung out pads of the original track, though never loosing focus of the 'reductions' aim: keep the dancer dancing.

Cocoon Recordings' next 12” vinyl comes from a well-known face. No introduction needed as nobody less than Gregor Tresher once again delivers a superb and surprising pair of tracks.

“Black Halo” is down-the-line and perhaps one of the catchiest tracks by Gregor Tresher.
The wobbling driving bassline builds up a rising tension that increases through the vast, detuned, and powerful string parts appearing to extend out to light years, reaching far beyond. Zaps drive the rhythm forward while rushing cymbals push the groove and weld everything together to absolute unity. For Gregor, techno and club culture have certain transcendental qualities, “Black Halo” is concerned with these sentiments and tells an ambivalent story. The onset of bliss oscillates between melancholy and hope, making it an exuberant roller coaster of emotions. A classic Gregor Tresher track, which perfectly represents Gregor’s signature sound!

“Phantom Dancer” literally pulls you onto the dance floor. Discharging beats, which hit you heavily but pleasant. The atmosphere violently evolves with a twisted noise-like signal sound and gets even more brute through the low-pitched filter vocals. An exceptionally deep techno production by Gregor Tresher, which will definitely come to full fruition in the clubs at peak time.

The wax is hot. The tunes are massive. Oath’s sub-label, Last Year at Marienbad, dispenses a foursome of punchy house tracks for its fifth release, lovingly crafted by some of the genre’s finest producers.

‘The Way We Flow’ by Sam Paradise pairs detuned, lo-fi samples with thumping kicks, and muffled drums. Just when those innocent lo-fi elements simmer, the drums slam back into your periphery harder than ever, making for an absolute dancefloor smasher.

‘De Nuit (3 A.M)’ by Nu-Cleo descends deeper. Swinging drums and chocolatey, indulgent keys lay the basis for a hypnotic acid bassline. Real tension builder.

Flipping over to the B-Side – careful, it’s hot – is ‘She Wrote’ by Gloved Hands. Seemingly just a ride through a well-made bouncing synth and house groove combo at first, this track soon shows off Gloved Hands’ knack for leftfield flavours. There’s an unexpected trap-esque vocal that gets re-contextualised for the club alongside piercing synths and a bulging broken beat.

‘Hard Deep’ by Rick Wade is an obvious one. The stalwart of the house scene serves up another of his zesty, masterful grooves. Shimmering, effortless keys steer a tight drum groove while a subtle bassline nestles between the kick’s low end.

Four cuts from four house experts. Is there much more a dancefloor could ask for?

On April 7th electronic luminary Nathan Fake presents the new longplayer ‘Crystal Vision’ on his own Cambria Instruments imprint, which features collaborations with Clark and Wizard Apprentice.

This is music for music’s sake – recorded without angles, agendas and themes – so Fake was free to simply continue honing his craft and express himself non-literally. Aptly titled, there’s a clarity of execution and ambition, and a peak effectiveness to the record that just sounds right.

Continuing to set a personal bar higher and topping his own best, the mark of master craftsperson is everywhere, but that doesn’t mean it’s polished; There’s plenty of rawness evident, with spiky sonics keeping ears on high alert – full of endorphin-flooded rave energy.

Following a short, scene-setting ‘Arrival’ – a simple major chord arpeggio played on a Jupiter 6 which sounds like curtains opening at dawn, things begin apace with ‘The Grass’, which hurtles like a precision-tuned bullet train through Arctic tundra. The undulating effect of compression is emphasised by the classic techno trope where 2 rhythms jar yet interlock, creating an exquisitely disorientating strobe-like flutter. On the track’s guest, Fake comments, “I fell in love with Wizard Apprentice's ‘I Am Invisible’ and felt our musical styles were similar. Their vocals are smooth and clear and sharp at the same time. They’re like a calm within the storm.”

Inspired by Italo disco but sounding wholly alien and futuristic, ‘Vimana’’s fizzing buzzsaw arpeggiated bassline, popping snares and bright whirling melody are equally an electro trance melange, with an effervescent major chord Arp that kicks in midway.

Reminiscent of what used to be called ‘funky techno’ but with sparklier sounds, ‘Boss Core’ blinds like sunshine bouncing off ice. Using his trusty Boss DR550 drum machine, and inspired by Autechre's ‘Vose In’, the track peaks by reaching that melancholic/euphoric axis for which he is loved.

With chugging slow breakbeats not a million miles from Board Of Canada or trip hop, ‘Crystal Vision’ rolls along, with the melody opening up, revealing more hidden notes as it progresses, building into a fractal, kaleidoscopic mosaic.

An emotional outpouring with serotonin surging through the circuitry, classic breakbeats and layers of lazers, ‘Bibled’ has all the hallmarks of a classic. This is a bonafide festival-set closing, hugging-your-mates, moment – or, with its guitar solo, “a power ballad” – as Nathan calls it.

A minimalistic moment of calm midway through the album, ‘CMD’’s gently comforting dreamscape is conjured with FM stacked and detuned sine waves which are left to breathe, whilst the chunky Chicagoan house jack of ‘Hawk’ brings to mind classic Relief records, but even more detuned and wibbly, and laden with synths.

As the title suggests, ‘Amen 96’ is in Fake’s own words, “me having a go at jungle. I grew up listening to it, and I remember as a teenager it sounded like the most intense and otherworldly music ever. It still does. This track is an experiment to see how my melodic style works against amen breaks”. Closer to the braindance end of the spectrum than ‘proper’ jungle (and all the more interesting for it), Fake channels the spirit of Squarepusher but makes it his own, brimming with melodious twinkle.

A collaboration with Nathan’s close friend and genuine musical hero Clark. ‘Outsider’ finds this dream team alchemising pure gold that’s bigger than the sum of their parts. Skittering, intense, far-reaching end epic, the pair close proceedings on a grandly dramatic note. In 2020 Nathan released the album ‘Blizzards’, which was described by The Quietus as “his best work”, and “his best LP yet” yet by Resident Advisor. The equally well received ‘Blizzards Remixes’ EP which featured Afrodeutsche and Irene Dresel followed in 2021, as did a nationwide UK tour.

An in-demand remixer, Fake has added his magic to tracks by Radiohead, Clark, Perc, Jon Hopkins, GoGo Penguin, Dominik Eulberg, Christian Löffler and Damian Lazarus, working for labels including Ninja Tune, Domino, Warp, Blue Note and Kompakt.

As the artwork on the EP depicts, "Darkest hour before dawn" is a dusky scenario representing the Dutch environment known as "the polder" in the lower lands. It questions all kinds of actions taken or not taken to protect, restore, conserve, innovate, or modestly leave the landscape to its own more murky outcome. The darkest hour, full of gloom, will be available around the spring equinox?

Portrait of tracks separately:


"Darkest Hour before dawn"

Is this piece supposed to be an ode to the ancient Dutch hardcore movement, that once and probably only then would be experienced to such intensity or is this still maybe just a little near reminder of it? Anyway starts this unlit track slowly and remains that way but maintains a fat-pumping pulse, possibly reminding of a soldier walking a death march. Settling up those launch pads further down the piece, near the bridge for shooting off some drum-fire 909 snares as if it rocketed. Then, suddenly, the extended delay of that snare turns into a psychedelic drone beside, attending to, or paranoidly chasing comrades soul in his journey throughout and above like a trustful partner?

Arp's LFO that is out of sync with the beat and is being outpaced by it seems to slow everything down even more; meantime creating a pulling, buggy-like effect to the due of all this.

The ascending and descending ghost-pad drawing into the grid of the (tone) key, thereafter parking in them for a while and cycling out again, creating a spatial flow of disturbance and anxiety.

Finishes it with a mountain-big reverberation of organized destruction and chaos. What at first sight seems like simply an innocent route appears to actually be a bit more complex one.


"Lovely memories"

The quite monotonous structure of Lovely memories catchy and groovy song is scanning through your brain files; revisiting, memorizing, and purposely lacking these few "dots above the I" that in some cases you'd gladly be feeling like to square fit it in yourself, of course, when necessary. Connecting the puzzling, dazzling flashbacks together to finally wrap up and perpetuate the pictured events for good, leaving traces of melancholy, loveliness, and perhaps even faith to it.


"24 hours"

Dinginess of 24 hours supposes to be felt in the guts.
The beat, steady with that snare on the 4 & 12, might not be one of the greatest inventions. However, the TR-08's drum line here lays a solid and fertile foundation for a reasonable house track.

Slightly detuned synths weave a scarf pattern around your upper body, and the lower layers carry a warm blanket for the underbelly, providing you with that cozy sense of consolation. Acidy pokes wring itself sneaky and penetrable around, slicing through the song's already solid flesh. Therefore, balancing its bitter sweetness throughout with these soft-hard saw-tooth drops of sourness.

"24 hours" conveys a dispatch or intercommunication that there is little time left to take actions/charge to fix and restore. Something big is about to come if it hasn't arrived already...


"At night"

This remarkable story is a bit out of ordinary.
At night appeared in the artist's dream just the night before his sick father was raised from death in the hospital and got just another year to live before actually passing away completely and anyway. ; ))
And thus also dedicated to the man.

The concluding chapter of Jamaica Suk’s 17-track ‘Uncertain Landscape’ series arrives with a bang, with another four explosive tracks to round it off.

Milton Bradley — aka Alien Rain — begins proceedings with a hammering assault in the form of ‘Driving Force’. Detuned, ravey synths produce a cacophonous barrage of sound as the rubbery kick groove intones more hardcore vibes. There’s a touch of John Carpenter vibes in the spooky arpeggios that permeate the more stripped back sections. Bone-crushing groove abounds throughout.

Italy’s Kill Ref delivers a distorted thumper on ‘Subbaculta’, slowly eeking out a rasping groove from the underbelly of his pummeling drums. The track keeps building throughout, the shuffling rhythm
bolstering some seriously raw machine funk in the latter half that emerges almost imperceptibly.

The ringmaster herself, Jamaica Suk, makes her contribution to the series on ‘Escape’. She conjures up a tripped-out soundscape where layers stack in potent combination. Squelchy acid licks do battle
with the stomping bass groove and heavily-reverbered sustained textures. It sounds as if there are monsters loose in the speakers.

Nicolas Bougaïeff closes this momentous four-part release with his second contribution, ‘Nocturne 3’. Rocking a stuttered kick pattern, it revolves around grunting swathes of industrial noise, on-beat
clap patterns and all manner of weird and wonderful sounds that pitch-bend, tweak and freak to delightful levels of intensity. It’s a very well arranged and sequenced track that keeps you guessing.

Jamaica Suk’s 17-track, quadruple-volume ‘Uncertain Landscapes’ series continues with its second part, bringing five tracks of uncompromising cutting-edge techno.

NovaMute artist Nicolas Bougaïeff kicks off with the rasping sounds of ‘Nocturne 1’, a tense juggernaut of a track. Sheet metal textures clash up against eerie FX the most throbbing of kick drums, with a twisted, distorted feel to the breakdown.

Keith Carnal’s ‘Infringement’ injects rhythmic bleep patterns into its chattering percussion, creating an almost dubby feel that’s contrasted with an urgent energy. Well-timed filtering adds to the tension.

The warped wiggle of Helrad’s ‘Groove Addicts’ comes next, with intense machine energy filtering up from the depths. A manic cacophony of detuned bleeping creates a heavy, relentless feel over the succinct beat.

Insolate’s ‘Sanchin’ rocks a pulsating bass chug that underpins washed-out textures and synth delays, with rasping metallic sounds washing over the track in the second half while the shuffling percussion keeps ticking away.

Manuel Di Martino channels some classic Detroit vibes in the chattering clap & snare patterns and rolling groove of ‘Runout’. Resonant tones blip, loop and pitch-shift in hip-shaking fashion to give the feel of a classic Jeff Mills set in action.

Salix is a bold new departure for modular synthesist Loula Yorke, seen here using an antique reed organ to explore the ancient roots of willow trees in magic, myth and medicine, as well as inviting another musician into her recording studio for the first time, clarinettist Charlotte Jolly.

The EP forms a sonic archive of a singular instrument: an antique free reed organ left behind by a previous encumbent of Asylum Studios, (the artists' co-operative in Suffolk where Yorke's Truxalis labelmate and life collaborator, Seiche, has a studio space). The organ is in poor condition and fascinatingly, painfully detuned. Yorke's recordings bring out its host of unusual quirks exacerbated by age and neglect: the powerful rhythmic creaking of the wooden treadles; the bone-shaking resonance emanating from its body at specific pitches; unexpected exclamations of harmonic collision from within the carcass redolent of a human voice; the piercing, shrieking whistles of broken reeds, and the powerful timbres unlocked via Yorke's experiments with various combinations of stops.

The three tracks that form Salix are inspired by a local weeping willow tree, a constant companion photographed over the course of a year. Boughs caught in a gyre. A maiden in mourning. Branches that gesture in the wrong direction. A tree turned upside down. A hand-woven willow basket, an old technology to gather and store. The journey of a lovelorn bard through the underworld, a bundle of willow under one arm for protection.

For the opening track, The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction, Yorke recorded herself playing a simple unaccompanied improvisation on the organ, the only ornamentation being the processed sounds of the keys being struck and returning to their positions.

For Bundle of Styx, a spell of protection is cast and then broken. Yorke invited virtuoso clarinettist Charlotte Jolly into the studio to test combining the breathy textures of both brass and natural reeds, the instruments uniting and obsuring each other in turn during this one-take improvisation. The organ's unpredictable sharpened tunings take centre stage here, with Jolly using them as a point of departure to conjure a set of peerless harmonic improvisations live in the moment. Throughout the improvisation, Yorke, a self-taught musician, unpracticed on the organ, supports and challenges, freely admitting that she's not always sure what effect her decisions to move up and down the keyboard or pull out certain stops will have. Jolly's genius lies in her ability to meet and build on every uncertain pitch thrown her way, saying of the experience, "I love that Loula isn't classically trained, I can't predict at all what she's about to do."

For the final track, With the Red Dawn, Yorke has come up with another unique combination of textures, this time bringing her own specialism in modular synthesis to the fore. A ten-minute reed organ drone characterised with ever-shifting bass swells and overtones is layered with tuned sines, often shudderingly wave-folded, that ebb and flow both in intensity and harmonic colour according to the duty cycles of eight interrelated LFOs. These recordings are collaged with Yorke's singing voice and a langorous, ascending sequence across two octaves on Jolly's clarinet, all arranged to form a cohesive whole far greater than the sum of its parts. Smatterings of untuned percussion and a fragment of a conversation between the duo left in the final mix cements Yorke's unprecious DIY aesthetic into the release.

At its heart, Salix is like watching the wind in the willows; hundreds of thousands of identical tiny leaves moving in confluence on its branches; at once one thing and many things; moment-to-moment our perception makes out different individuals parts within this expanse of texture, before sinking back into the whole.

'In 2023, sound artist and composer Weston Olencki toured across the American South. Beginning in their hometown in South Carolina, they snaked a circuitous path from the mountains of West Virginia to the banks of the Mississippi River. As the miles accumulated, so did the initial seeds of new work.
'Instruments and artifacts they acquired hitched a ride in the backseat, while songs and sounds filled their portable recorder: water in its various states, the familiar insectoid buzz of those summer nights, trains cutting through the landscape, the traditional music that lived alongside the communities that kept it. Olencki took it all in, and over time, found ways that these experiences coalesced into a bramble-like perspective of time, where past, present, and future intersect in ways both barbed and beautiful.
'Broadsides, Olencki’s newest solo full-length is the multilayered result of this journey. The album follows their landmark release Old Time Music from 2022, which presented radical interpretations of traditional tunes from Appalachia and throughout the South alongside original compositions that drew significantly on archival recordings. On Broadsides, Olencki rejects delineations between the unmoored avant-garde and the rootedness of one’s cultural heritage, revealing their porous and intertwined nature. “My mother was a quilter. Her mother before that,” they write in the album’s liner notes. “Quilting, like music, is a practice of embedding knowledge and remembrance into the very core of the thing you are making. It’s not just about the materials, but how they’re reassembled, recontextualized, stitched, woven to form new patterns - the minutiae of craft holding significance to those looking to find it. Stories woven from stories, never told the same way twice.”
'Like all great road trips, Broadsides unfolds slowly and continuously, with moments of dramatic reverie punctuating the endless melt of highway in the rearview. We’re immediately confronted by the uncanniness of revisiting old haunts, as Southern storms break through the initial churn of the freight locomotives of Alabama. Olencki’s interpretation of the bluegrass standard “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” captures the euphoria of melancholy in motion. The permutational plucks of banjo are bounced around the frame by a computer, its pitches determined within algorithmic sequences and transcriptions of classic three-finger licks. The tonalities of old-time are smeared and stretched until all that’s audible is the insistence that Heaven might be real.
'In the album’s second half, “Omie Wise,” a murder ballad made famous by Doc Watson, follows an interlude recorded on the river in North Carolina in which the titular character’s body was laid. Ghostly echoes of a dozen other renditions float through the substrata as Tongue Depressor’s Henry Birdsey accompanies them on the pedal steel guitar. The album’s central composition, “all my father’s clocks,” is a profound meditation on entropy and impermanence. The sound of their father’s extensive clock collection ticks away as Olencki pulls a bow across the length of an autoharp sourced from a rural strip mall. The instrument was left as detuned as it was found, the resonance of its deep bass drone and clanging high-end the result of years of neglect and the warping effects of Southern humidity.
'Historically, broadsides were an early form of broadcasting, an often- musicalized telling of current news pasted in the public square. The name was later taken up by Sis Cunningham and Gordon Friesen in the 1960s, whose Broadside magazine published songs and social commentary when American folk music resurfaced as an urgent way of communicating the multifaceted politics of its time.
'Olencki borrows the phrase to recall both this old form of songmaking and that later prominent reexamination of traditional music’s role in modern life, but also to draw attention to the fragmented and machine- mediated way heritage is diffused in this very different, but no less pivotal, moment.
'As a sanitized past is used as justification for current violence and domination, we can turn to these artifacts to better understand the history of ourselves, but only if they are consciously pushed to evolve. Broadsides represents one personal, striking vision of what far-flung futurisms could be respun from = these high, lonesome sounds: a reflection of the unbridled joy and deep sorrow inherent to living together through time, and a desire to push further into the untold and unknown.'

Moving freely through time and space via experimental DIY recordings since 2009, Joasihno return with their fourth album "Spots".

“Find your spot in the shade,” a truly laid-back and incredibly soft-spoken MC once advised, yet in a world that seems to get shadier every day, it’s probably time to finally get out and face the sun. Southern German experimental pop duo Joasihno – initial solo founder Cico Beck (The Notwist, Aloa Input, Spirit Fest) and drummer/composer Nico Sierig (Instrument, Fehler Kuti) – seem to know exactly when it’s time to shine. Idiosyncratic genre tweakers since day one, they have been operating at their own pace, mostly staying in their own shady corner. Yet, almost a decade after their most recent “Meshes” (an album that came with a whole legion of tiny music robots), it’s high time for them to take over more corners, to reclaim even more spots between lo-fi and sci-fi, retro electronica and contemporary classic. Drawing upon influences as varied as Reich, Riley, and Ryuichi, múm, Meek, and Moondog, while also nodding to other experimental twosomes (e.g. The Books), the duo’s fourth full-length “Spots” is set to arrive via Alien Transistor in late 2025.

Leaving soulless automation and all things artificial to others, Joasihno launch the latest record on “2 Squares” that feel like a peaceful, almost bucolic version of retro space age: lights blink ever so softly as easy-going bass tones point at today’s introspective flight arc. Electronic shapes align and things lift off – with a majestic 8-bit sunrise soon appearing right in front of us. Whereas playful title song “Spots” is a miniature Rube Goldberg kind of device, with quirky plucked strings and glitches setting off more and more contraption layers, “Crackleboom” is uncharted energy, an open landscape, an expanding bonfire that leads to a long-forgotten piano, all dust-covered in some kind of saloon. Space might be only noise to others, here, it’s foreboding screeches (“Dizzle Whistle”) that make room for A-side center piece “Forest Lights”: a steady beat that lures us to a clearance in the woods. Things break and shatter in the distance, but this spot right here is for hypnosis, dancing, sylvan spirits. And yeah, it’s surprisingly hot down here in the undergrowth…

Opening side B with a fun banger that takes the unhinged dancing to the playground – “Characa Orb.” feels like French kids on swings going crazy, a tipsy, tongue-in-cheek electro blow-out between Oizo and Orbis Tertius –, things get even more cinematic throughout the second half. Even the cheapest, lo-fiest gear is sufficient to make “The Slow Hour” glow like true, timeless pop royalty. In fact, the very same pop spirits roam and celebrate freely in the chirpy coves of mesmerizing “Detune Lagoon” – more hand-crafted sci-fi/lo-fi loops you’ll only find after facing the ghosts of Lynch or Sakamoto on those night-time trails under the “Deep Moon”. It’s all DIY spots, spots that leave room to dream or dangle, drape yourself over or dive into. Returning to the leafy bower on a melancholy post rock tip, we eventually learn that “Death Is Real” – and so we’re left with a laterna magica that turns and turns and turns. It’s a beautiful spot where light and shadows keep on dancing, just like they’ve always done, ever since the dawn of this madcap universe.

Acclaimed electronic musicians, producers and sound architects Max Cooper and Rob Clouth team up for a new collaborative EP; a dark, playful four-track dive into ambient, breakbeat and techno’s subconscious flow, featuring a standout vocal performance from South London rapper FLOHIO.

Recorded over a series of spontaneous London sessions, “8 Billion Realities” channels years of creative exchange between two of the genre’s most quietly innovative artists and is a result of a decision between the longtime friends to refrain from conceptual overthinking in favour of instinct and joy.

As long-time admirers of each other’s audio/visual work, Cooper and Clouth collaborated in London together after both emerging from intense, idea-heavy album cycles. What followed was a series of exploratory sessions, half-improvised, half-built around half-formed thoughts.

The result is a club-ready EP that feels alive and human: imperfect and hypnotically rich.

“Rob Clouth has been one of my favourite electronic music producers since I first heard his work in 2011,” says Cooper. “His work is more full of ideas and structure than anyone else.” “We were both coming from extensive conceptual studio albums and both in the mood for simplifying things and having some fun with the music, so that’s what we did”.

For Clouth, no stranger to Max Coopers Mesh label having previously released an array of EP’s plus his 2020 debut album “Zero Point” this record marks a new chapter, both creatively and personally.“Something pretty new for me is collaborating,” he says. “You kind of have to when to stop, because if you develop an idea all the way to its endpoint, the other person has nowhere to jump in.”

The first “A Moment Set Aside” began as a break from another idea, a live, unplanned improvisation based around arps and ambience. “The track was written in about as long as it took to play it,” says Cooper. “It was pulled from a 1 hour recording session, more or less as you hear it… the energy and excitement grew as the unplanned moment bore some magic.”

“The lesson being that sometimes it’s helpful to set aside a moment without forcing results, and let the subconscious have something to say.” What followed was darker, heavier. “Asymptote” is detuned techno. Subversive and euphoric in its descent. “We found a sort of brain mangling, half consonant, half wandering detuned techno pulse, which we started chatting about being a sort of pit of spiralling body parts we were falling into,” says Cooper. “It was a lot of fun to work on and let loose with bigger kicks than I usually ever get to unleash.”

Then came “8 Billion Realities”, featuring a standout rap performance from FLOHIO; an emerging figure in the UK grime and rap scene. The track was inspired by conversations about algorithmic echo chambers and hyper-personalised online worlds. Frantic, direct, and South London to the core, FLOHIO brings this tension to life. Her sharp, intense flow cuts through distortion and rhythm, landing the track somewhere between chaos and control instantly making it one of the most striking moments in either artist’s catalogue. “A different reality for all 8 billion of us,” says Cooper. “We weren’t sure if it would work… but there was something about the energy of the percussive idea and the story which felt like it might fit.” “Then FLOHIO had a play with it and straight off the bat absolutely killed it, not just with the lyrics and energy, but the harmonising too, it was a beautiful process.”

The final piece on the EP “Candeleda” originated from Clouth’s solo experiments with a live rig made entirely of vocals and keys, using his self-developed “cheatbox” system. “He put forward a beautiful stumbling melodic sequence which we bounced back and forth adding harmonies and synth layers,” says Cooper. “It rounds off a collection covering some of the breadth of music that we both love.”

Recorded in Switzerland and mastered in Madrid, on Deságua Mello blends classical harp training with experimental techniques, creating a rich sonic journey that pushes the boundaries of the instrument. Brazilian harpist and composer Marina Mello presents Deságua, her solo debut released by the Peruvian label Buh Records. Based in Zurich, Mello has developed a unique and expressive approach to the harp, combining her classical training with a deep exploration of the instrument's sonic possibilities. Deságua is the result of this process: an intimate and expansive work that traverses sonic landscapes rich in contrast and texture. In the artist's own words, this album is a synthesis of material developed through her musical practice. The title refers to the Portuguese word that describes the moment a river flows into the sea. This concept guides the album's sonic narrative, in which each piece functions as a tributary flowing into an immersive and unexpected listening experience. From bittersweet whale-like sounds to destructive, unsettling, and shattering noise provocations, she explores, senses, and transcends the musical boundaries of her instrument. The album presents a wide range of sounds and styles, yet maintains a strong internal coherence through its technical and conceptual exploration of the harp. Mello performs on both lever and pedal harps, employing a range of non-traditional techniques: preparing the instrument with objects, using guitar effects pedals, detuning the strings, and using close mic recording to capture the subtlest sounds and the shifts that lie between them. The result is a collection of pieces that move between the melodic and the dissonant. Deságua does not shy away from repetition, noise, or raw textures. Instead, it embraces them fully, situating the album at the crossroads of contemporary music, improvisation, and electronic experimentation.

Amsterdam label Spectral Bounce recruits French club stalwart Chris Carrier for SPEC06 — Perfect Encounter. Active since 1994, the Parisian artist has released a wellspring of records on Robsoul, Slapfunk and his own Sound Carrier recordings, parallel to his longtime career as a DJ. Characterised by swirling delays and progressive arrangements, Perfect Encounter shows the producer exploring the mesmeric corners of tech house, ideally fitted to the Spectral Bounce aesthetic.

Opener “XLR8” starts with rolling toms that make way for fluid, modulated tones; each bar ebbs and flows to the sweeping synths set in motion by Carrier. Processed with a multitude of delays, rhythmic FX boldly swish above the drums, making for an immersive soundstage. Second track “Light Side” retains the billowing echoes but moves more nimbly, cutting things back to make for a spacious and breezy number. Its croaking synths hop around the stereo field, accompanied by tight percussion and a walking bassline.

The hallucinogenic “Third Moon” sees Carrier step further into trance-inducing territory. The track’s pulsing, syncopated bass note thrums underneath an arpeggio that evolves into a heady prismatic drone. While the chugging beat is ever-present, melodic refrains rise up and evaporate like wisps of vapour, alongside a vocal that fades away as quickly as it appears. The EP’s eponymous “Perfect Encounter” dials up the tension and closes the record with a mysterious touch. Speedy 16th note patterns propel the beat, creating shifty rhythms that rattle and hiss. A rasping, gelatinous synth and squeaky detuned tones resemble extraterrestrial signals — alien morse code for an enraptured dancefloor.

Credits:

“Great Doubt” is the third full length LP by Danish composer Astrid Sonne. Throughout her acclaimed discography, Astrid Sonne has been carefully crafting different moods through electronic and acoustic instrumental endeavours. On “Great Doubt” this skill is refined, now with the distinct addition of the composer's own vocal in front. The tone of each track is unmistakably Sonne’s, structured around contrasts through an impeccable sense of timing. Lyrics on the album are sparse, merely highlighting different scenes or emotional states of being, leaving the music to fill in the blanks. Yet they also form a pattern of ambiguity, consolidated through the album title, searching for answers through looking at how and what you are asking, questions for the world, questions of love. The viola, a trusted companion since Astrid Sonne’s youth, appears effortlessly throughout the album, fully integrated into the sonic universe; through a pizzicato driven arrangement in the poignant track “Almost” or along with booms and claps in mutated cinematic stabs during “Give my all”, paraphrasing Mariah Carey's 1997 ballad. Yet the string section also gives way to explorations of woodwinds, counterbalancing the bowed movements with digital brass and airy flutes. Finally, beats and detuned piano are fresh additions to the soundscape, cementing how Sonne’s practice is always evolving into new territories. In fall 2022, Astrid Sonne relocated from Copenhagen with its peers of artists such as ML Buch, Erika de Casier and Smerz, to live in London, where musicians of the South-East London scene like Coby Sey, Lolina, Still House Plants and Mica Levi provide a new inspirational framework. “Great Doubt” bears witness to both of those geographical locations, yet finds itself in its own unique space, in many ways due to the presence of Sonne's voice throughout. A voice that has always been present in her work, but never fully explored as a solo instrument before now. Astrid Sonne elaborates on the wish to work more in depth with the voice: “I come from a tradition of choir singing where I’ve used my voice as a way of creating unity with other voices. I’ve disciplined my voice in a certain way and this album is an exploration of me trying to find my own voice as an instrument, as a communicator, as a new way of being honest.” Questions take up a central role throughout the album. The doubt is both a blessing and a curse, always lying in-between, acting as both what holds back and drives forward. A metamorphosis not going anywhere. The great doubt takes place in a space of courage, chances, love, loss, gifts and surprises. Genre: Electronic / Experimental

Originally conceived as a compilation of outtakes and live recordings from The Shadow Ring's 1995 stateside tour, Wax-Work Echoes takes its name from the first line of "Put the Music in Its Coffin," the title track of the group's breakthrough release. Lambkin abandons the bitsand- bobs approach, advancing the Shadow Ring concept with entirely original material that builds on the unit's self-mythologizing lyrics, celebrates the clicking of horse hooves, ponders on the sociability of rats and mice, and warns of the dangers of poultry. The first Shadow Ring album to officially include Tim Goss in the main lineup, Wax- Work Echoes reveals the group in its final and lasting form, awash in the outer bounds of atmospheric exploration, with Lambkin's familiar wry and morbid lyricism and the stripped-down angularity of amateurishly detuned guitars fully intact. While Klaus Canterbury and Tony Clark seem all but forgotten, and the shrugged off S. Fritz is listed on the liner notes as performing only "when required," Lambkin did solicit contributions from outside the inner circle. A bit of "Mambo Twist," lifted from a tape of unreleased Vitamin B12 material sent to Lambkin by Alasdair Willis, found its way into "V.E.R.M.I.N.," while an extended epistle contribution from Richard Youngs (and, technically, Brian Lavelle) would be employed in the second half of "Catching Sight/Of Passing Things." Released on CD in 1996 for Bruce Russell's newly minted Corpus Hermeticum, Wax-Work Echoes was recorded concurrently with intense rehearsal periods, in anticipation of the forthcoming "Rose Watson Tour," and was supported by a celebratory fanzine media blitz. The album seemingly absorbs the frenetic excess of the band's transatlantic travels; Wax-Work Echoes channels the trio's wilder instincts into an unresolved catharsis, not yet free of frustration or restlessness. Out of print for almost three decades and available here for the first time ever on long-playing disc, Wax-Work Echoes is a classic from the outer eddies of The Shadow Ring's sound, a must-have for any aficionado's collection: "A window slides, glass slips from frame / And canvas carcass breathes again." Throughout their legendary, decade-long run, the Shadow Ring were an enigmatic force on the international musical sub-underground. Before their disbandment in 2002, this shambolic rock outfit, formed by a group of rowdy teenagers in southeast England, left behind a mighty run of eight LPs, a handful of 7"s, and a spate of raucous live shows and cryptic zine appearances on both sides of the Atlantic, all which have bolstered their enduring word-of-mouth mystique. Beginning in 2023 with the first-ever vinyl pressing of the self-released pre-Shadow Ring tape The Cat & Bells Club (1992), Blank Forms Editions has been conducting a systematic retrospective of the storied group. Wax-Work Echoes and Hold Onto I.D. are the latest releases in a multiyear reissue effort that includes several LPs, a comprehensive CD box set, and a nearly five-hundred-page book.

New on Sublease is label boss Steve Bug teaming up with Herve Solar, an emerging talent from Geneva whose debut was featured on Poker Flats Under One Roof series previously. The two artists first crossed paths at the Mixmasters retreat in Ibiza, where Herve participated as a student under the guidance of Steve Bug. Impressed by Herves material, Steve Bug saw potential for collaboration. Upon returning to Geneva, Herve sent Steve a few unfinished tracks, sparking the idea for a joint EP. The creative process involved each artist sending a track for the other to complete, with Steve Bug adding the final touches in his Berlin studio.

No Faith, No Dreams highlights a slinky, sexy sound that will instanty win over other DJs and crowds, and is also shared here via a remix courtesy of Jürgen Kirsch. His rework is a little tougher, stripping the sound down to ist essentials before bringing up the energy with a dubby bassline and intricate percussion. Swamp Frog is the 3rd track of the release, a grooving bassline providing the anchor for the rhythm and detuned chords that lend the whole thing a wonky, loose feel for the heads.

Best of' albums are invariably repackaged collections of old recordings, so Vice Squad's `Punk Rockers' is a breath of fresh air The songs have been lovingly recorded and remastered, keeping all the original fire and adding decades of experience gained from punishing tours and continuous songwriting Beki is the original architect of the songs and the Vice Squad name, and she is the sole surviving member of the original lineup to have continued as a full-time musician Vice Squad are 100% DIY and record everything in their home studio with guitarist/riffmaster Paul Rooney engineering and mixing. There is nothing sloppy here; the whole album is concise and intelligent with lightning-speed diction, passion, and intent. The glorious `If I Knew What I Know Now' and `The World Is Wrong' are examples of Vice Squad's ability to write instantly catchy, witty songs, and the more gut-wrenching material from their last album, `Battle of Britain', showcases some enormous riffs and a voice that is a million decibels from Beki's untried teen vocals. The album opens with the deliciously effervescent `If I Knew What I Know Now', followed by the sparkling old-school tongue-twister `Out of Reach'. Next up is the visceral `Get A Life', an angry anti-suicide note to the desperate, originally the title track from their 1998 comeback album. This is followed by a shimmering version of Vice Squad's old-school classic `Resurrection'. While the treatment of the old songs remains true to the original teenage renditions, the upgraded versions pack more of a punch with detuned guitars and growling bass. The tribal tom-toms of `Allergy' underpin just over two minutes of punk protest about the delights of pollution and asthma. Then comes the sublime `Sniffing Glue', a near-perfect punk love song that would be a huge hit if not for its subject matter. `Ordinary Girl' is punk-pop perfection brimming with hook lines and harmonies, warmly mocking the life that could have been chosen instead of the grindstone at the sharp end of the music industry. `The World Is Wrong' is anthemic, joyous, and wonderfully contrary, and one would expect nothing less from a band that has soldiered on and grown through the decades. It's always great when bands lead by example. In these increasingly tough times where our survival is threatened by the gargantuan greed of a few individuals, it's important to continuously stick two fingers up to the grabbers and spoilers. 'The World Is Wrong' does just that in an impassioned, melodic, and optimistic style. 'Hold your head up, stand your ground, and don't let the bastards grind you down.' Then we roar into the final single Beki wrote with original and now sadly deceased guitarist Dave Bateman, `Citizen', and continue with another teenage opus, the quite brutal `Scarred For Life'. `Voice of the People' is a bulldozer of a song, all swagger and ballsy riffs, and the chorus, `Freedom of speech is against the law; now we're all criminals,' snarls its derision at red-handed red tape. `Punk Police' sneers over a catchy-as-COVID guitar riff, and the lyrics, `Regulation cut, you must measure up, down on the street, PR companies, monied families, running the scene,' call out the hierarchies that now permeate Punk. Baritone guitars add extra darkness to one of the first-ever animal rights songs, `Humane', and I'm struck by how relevant the older songs are. Chocks away, and the awesome 'Spitfire' takes flight like Motörhead on extra amphetamines. Merlin engines fade into `Born In A War', the second in the triumvirate of conflict-themed songs, an absolute stonker with huge muscular riffs and lyrics that roar pure outrage. Then comes the ominous Last Rockers, with all the angst of the original plus added depth and resonance. Beki: ' "Last Rockers" is a typically depressive adolescent song about nuclear war and being too young to die but too late to live. I believed Punks were the `Last Rockers', the final youth cult before the Apocalypse. I was obsessed with punk, and all I wanted to do was sing in a band and be part of the movement, so I would often romanticise the idea of punk in my lyrics.'