Cerca:disconnect head

"After being praised as one of the best releases of 2025 by multiple platforms, the highly praised debut album from Obeka lands on vinyl via YUKU.

The rhythmic dynamics and emotive attitudes of A World No More captures the density of soundsystem culture in Obeka's ancestral roots. YUKU presents the Bermudians debut album capturing a Neo-Colonial dystopia, protest and Afro-Futurism hyperextended through decaying sonic structures of a dark past and its grievances which very much exist today.

Growing into adulthood within the walls of British and European Colonial systems meant the disconnection and lostness in a new country hid me from the world at a young age. Unlike London's vast and culturally engaging migrant communities, the industrial milling town of Stockport introduced a coldness towards people from other countries I experienced in my first year after relocating from Bermuda. I couldn't understand why. Whether cold words thrown towards me or actions upon other people who look like me, it has shown to be a dooming societal virus with no cure. The most comfort was found through what was familiar - drums and rhythmic spirituality of my homeland. It was a safe-haven, a place to empty the anger and confusion. It's been 15 years since relocating and as my sound evolved, it seems classism, racism, oppression and civil control of ethnic peoples has become worse - even now more legalised and normalised. Ogun (a powerful Yoruba deity associated with anger, justice and war) acts as the opening sequence of the record and its symbolism. Using distorted bass frequencies and dissected Regga-Dub immersed in live-sampled ghostly voices of the lost ones. This sonic exercising is also applied in Drillaman - a stampede of industrial framework and metallic instruments wielded over moody Dancehall MC'ing, magnifying two parallel worlds in cocooned evolution. The resurrection of Transatlantic African cultures and identity have never been silenced, rather carried elsewhere through trade routes of enslavement, which was pivotal when composing and completing the album upon returning home to the Caribbean for the first time ever. After reconnecting with my heritage my blurred vision of what's wrong in the world became so clear. Guidance in empty plains seek truth throughout the pain - A statement of finding oneself expressed on the poetic closing track A World No More.

On Fawohodie (A West African Adinkra symbol that represents independence, freedom, and emancipation stamped on the album cover) the motive and atmosphere begins to change. Afro-Caribbean idealism which refers to the philosophical concept that emphasizes the interconnectedness of individuals and the importance of community, often contrasting with Western individualism, begins to take shape in a new universe. We can co-exist. The track framework uses machine-led software forming frequencies we have no control over, then manipulated through decomposing soundscapes, scattered hand-drums and human-made weapons of control - exposing the hidden disparity that's been carried over generations whilst balancing hopeful and musical foundations towards equality and peace. On Pressure and Kuduro! the writing direction attempts to wake people up. Not settling for a composed approach like in past projects, quite the opposite. A call for native sonic awareness, dismantled vocals of protests, eroded percussion using chains, gears and motorised harmonies sculpted in challenging abstract behaviors far outside my comfort zone. A direct abrasiveness and weight I want people to feel, whilst finding hope and solace through enchanting choirs and hypnotic basslines in complete synchrony.

"Purity in sound manifests when you least expect it. The smallest memory or feeling grows from a seed into a sonic language that you, and only you can interpret and release back into the world." "

Franky Wah makes Crosstown Rebels debut with ‘Disconnect’ EP, featuring Kuuda. Out on 20th June 2025, the four-tracker sees the acclaimed UK producer make his first appearance on the revered imprint.

A producer known for balancing dancefloor energy with introspective songwriting, Franky Wah’s rise has been fuelled by a string of chart-topping singles, non-stop global club and festival appearances, and the launch of his own imprint and event brand, SHÈN. With musical influences stretching from trance and breakbeat to afro-house and techno, he now brings that rich sound palette to the Crosstown fold for the first time with a release that’s equal parts euphoric and deep as it is driving. Delivering a powerful and emotionally charged four-track release, 'Disconnect' showcases the Yorkshire-born artist’s blend of underground grit and melodic sophistication, featuring two standout collaborations with rising vocal trio Kuuda.

Opening the EP, the title track pairs swirling textures, brooding basslines and crisp percussion with commanding vocals, setting the tone for the journey ahead. The synergy continues on ‘Off The Wall’, a hazy, late-night jam elevated by Kuuda’s signature warped vox interjections. On the flip, ‘Desert Dance’ continues further into hypnotic territory with wicked bass licks and layered synth work, before closing track ‘Freak In The Sheets’ delivers another impactful, heads-down groove laced with attitude. Featured on two of the EP’s four cuts, Brighton-based trio Kuuda continue to emerge as a rapidly ascending vocal project within electronic music. Known for their genre-fluid songwriting and dynamic live presence, their collaborations with Hot Since 82, Yousef and Artche have earned them widespread support from the likes of Pete Tong, Danny Howard and RÜFÜS DU SOL. Blending emotional depth with club-ready impact, ‘Disconnect’ marks an inspired meeting point between Franky Wah’s expansive production style and the Crosstown Rebels spirit—one that looks set to soundtrack dancefloors throughout the summer and beyond.

(incl 40p fanzine written by Matt Annis with photographs by Simon Pyke and Ian Brodie) Postpunk Theory is a meticulously curated compilation by the legendary Tony Thorpe, known for his work with The Moody Boys, 400 Blows, and The KLF. These classic tracks were played at parties by Thorpe at the time, making them his personal classics. The compilation features 16 rare and sought-after tracks from the post-punk era, including works by Mark Stewart and The Maffia, Basement 5, 23 Skidoo and more.



Defining post-punk is no easy task. While punk was defined by a raw, rebellious simplicity, post-punk (1978-1986) expanded into a diverse array of sounds and ideas. It maintained punk's independent spirit but embraced experimentation, incorporating influences from various musical and cultural traditions, resulting in a movement far more eclectic and fragmented than its predecessor.

At its core, post-punk broke away from traditional rock structures, blending genres like industrial, goth, and punk-funk with emerging dance music cultures. This era's spirit of innovation and defiance against musical norms continues to inspire, making post-punk a pivotal moment in music history that defies easy categorization.

Tony Thorpe presents Postpunk Theory - Alpha ? is a meticulously curated compilation by the legendary Tony Thorpe, known for his work with The Moody Boys, 400 Blows, and The KLF. These classic tracks were played at parties by Thorpe at the time, making them his personal classics. The compilation features 16 rare and sought-after tracks from the post-punk era, including works by Mark Stewart and The Maffia, Basement 5, 23 Skidoo, African Headcharge, and more.

Growing up in a vibrant musical environment in South London, Thorpe was deeply influenced by the eclectic sounds around him, from jazz-funk to Brit-Funk, and later, the post-punk records he discovered. As Thorpe recalls, "Post-punk was a mishmash of different cultures and ideas. Out of post-punk came dance music culture. That period was the most creative time because the culture was in its experimental phase." This compilation captures that innovative spirit, offering a glimpse into the era that shaped Thorpe's musical journey.

The album comes as a limited 2xLP set, accompanied by an extensive 40-page fanzine. The fanzine, written by Matt Annis (Join The Future), dives deep into the post-punk movement, offering insight and context enriched with striking photographs by Simon Pyke and Ian Brodie.

From his roots in House, Alex Finkin is a renowned producer and creative director. Working in his Paris studio he has developed numerous projects, notably his own (Roseaux), as well as commissions for radio and television. Meanwhile, with 30 years of production and DJing under his belt, Rocco Rodamaal belongs to the elite circle of House innovators who continue to influence the scene. He's played alongside some of the best in the industry showcasing his versatility and deep understanding of the genre, and remixed artists including Marshall Jefferson, Kerri Chandler, Louie Vega & Moodymann, Todd Terry, Barbara Tucker and Robert Owens to name just a few. Alex Finkin befriended Rocco Rodamaal, who he met via the soulful Parisian club Djoon, where Alex was resident from 2006 to 2014. They have since collaborated on a number of projects together, including "In Da Hood" released on COD3 QR in 2023. Kenny Dope's "O'Gutta" remixes are a series of house and club-focused reworks characterized by raw, gritty and often stripped-back percussion, which he now brings to "In Da Hood".

Ross McMillan, known professionally as Carlos Nilmmns, is a Scottish electronic music producer, DJ and composer originally from Glasgow. Over the years he has collaborated with a range of notable artists, including Grammy-nominated and Grammy-winning figures, including Kenny Dope, Carl Craig, Kevin Saunderson and Davina Bussey, plus respected artists like Niko Marks, Rolando, Laurent Garnier, Santiago Salazar, Hardrock Striker, Karl The Voice, Zadig, Ben Sims, Andrés (who worked with Jay Dilla and Moodymann), and YouANDme. His music has been released on Planet E, Trax, Cocoon, Ornaments, Circus, Virgin, Skylax/Universal Music France and more. His style draws from house, techno and jazz influences, often combining analogue and digital production methods. A returning regular and COD3 QR favourite, he's back with another stunner in "Latin Quarter".

K' Alexi Shelby is a prominent figure in electronic music and with a career spanning decades, he's established a significant influence on House and Techno. Throughout his career he's worked with many well-known artists and remixed tracks that are now key pieces. The cultivation of his massive musical catalogue has overflowed into albums and the three labels he heads. It's also led to legendary collaborations with artists such as The Pet Shop Boys, Robert Owens, Kenny Dixon, Roy Davis Jr., Maurice Joshua, Terry Hunter, Joe Smooth, Steve Silke Hurley, Tyree Cooper, Ron Trent, Glenn Underground, Larry Heard, DJ Pierre, Carl Craig, Felix da Housecat, Marshall Jefferson, Will Smith and countless others. Already respected around the world as a true underground House legend, he delivered "Flame" in 2025 for COD3 QR. Now he's back with "When I", another deep and sexy cut.

Benny Rodrigues a.k.a. ROD unveiled his new moniker, The Lost Souldancer when he dropped "No More Voices" for COD3 QR last year. In his own words, Benny says: "The Lost Souldancer is about coping with the loss of what once was. Finding comfort in the invisible rather than what can be seen. Disconnect to connect in order to be loved rather than liked." He continues this ethos with the delicate and melodic closing track "Life and Death".

Rave-o-lution - Teknology EP (HDK-3)is a manifesto disguised in project.

Forged in the raw energy of the underground, Rave-o-lution - Teknology EP explores the connection between machine, movement and collective consciousness. This is not nostalgia, it’s forward motion. Teknology as a tool, rave as a language, evolution as a necessity.

Across four different versions, the same core signal mutates and adapts, shifting pressure, tempo and density while staying locked to its original frequency. Each version is built for a different moment on the floor, from deep hypnosis to pure mechanical drive.

Sometimes a pad emerges in the break, a moment of suspension where emotion cuts through the structure. A brief opening. A breath inside the system. Proof that even the hardest teknology carries feeling beneath the steel.

HDK-3 is made for soundsystems at full power, bodies in sync, and minds ready to disconnect from the surface and dive deeper.

No compromise.
No decoration.
Just rave — evolved.

At 19, Helviofox adds his signature to the batida template that by now seems to have been in existence since forever. Such is the strength of this primordial fountain, a source of rejuvenation. Also within the literal family: Helvio cites brothers Dadifox and Erycox as main influences.

Curiosity for the sound made him go into production by the time he was 13. A couple of years later (2020) he became co-founder of TLS with E8Prod, Alberfox, DiionyG and other mates. His talent fully developed since then, opening a slight detour that became a new path parallel to the main road.

Lively basslines anchor the beat directly lifted from tradition and clearly channeled to the dancefloor. Strong, well rounded grooves, a spot-on sense of timing and tempo, elegant atmospheres, all part of Helvio's notion of arrangement and his perception of dance music boundaries, stretching them just enough to present a challenge but not as far as to disconnect head and feet and risk losing the floor.

This liminal space between experimentation and popularity is both dangerous and attractive. There is no one formula. Precisely why it still retains plenty of fuel for current and future generations to contribute personal visions.

Lisboa, 2025

Noctourniquet And then everything went black, at least for a while, at least for The Mars Volta. In the months and years following their fifth full-length, Octahedron, Omar kept on at his usual fearsome creative pace. In fact, he ramped up his output considerably, starting up his own Rodriguez Lopez Productions label and releasing a slew of solo albums. It was a practice he’d begun shortly after De-Loused’s release, with his solo debut A Manual Dexterity: Soundtrack Volume One, but as the decade reached its close, Omar grew to rely upon his solo recordings as an outlet for his prolific creativity, these albums often exploring musical pastures far beyond even The Mars Volta’s wide-ranging parameters. Before choosing to release music under his own name, Omar would always play it to Cedric first, to see if the frontman thought it had potential to become Mars Volta music. Shortly after Octahedron’s completion, Cedric flagged one batch of tracks Omar had cut with Deantoni Parks, a brilliant drummer and composer who’d briefly occupied the Mars Volta drumstool in-between Jon Theodore and Thomas Pridgen’s tenures, and whose volcanic creativity and unique, unpredictable approach to rhythm and composition had quickly made him one of Omar’s favourite artistic foils.

As with the music that made up Octahedron, the new tracks Cedric had optioned for The Mars Volta often veered far from the riotous, Grand Guignol visions of their earlier releases. It possessed the punchy, song-based focus of Octahedron, though this was a considerably darker, more menacing strain of pop, with synthesisers figuring heavily in the productions. Cedric took the tracks in 2009 and set about writing songs to the music. But no more new Mars Volta music would be heard until 2012. The years that passed in-between were nonetheless momentous, and busy, witnessing an unexpected reunion of the members of At The Drive-In, and Cedric joining his own side-project, Anywhere. But there wasn’t any sign of life within the Mars Volta until Omar, Cedric and their bandmates took to the road for a series of live shows in the spring of 2011, billed as The Omar Rodriguez-Lopez Group, debuting the songs that would become Noctourniquet. The album followed the next year, and it remains one of The Mars Volta’s finest, its electronic textures staking out unfamiliar but fertile new ground.

An unsettling, subtly turbulent listen, Noctourniquet found Cedric sketching out a story about “some sort of device that stops the darkness from bleeding”, drawing influence variously from the nursery rhyme Solomon Grundy, the Greek myth of Hyacinthus and the song Birth, School, Work, Death by British underground rockers The Godfathers. It was an album of dystopian futurism, signalled by the paranoid cyber-rock of opener The Whip Hand and its unnerving chorus, “That’s when I disconnect from you”. But it was also an album of inspired, unexpected moves and uncanny invention, like how Dyslexicon seemed to eerily evoke Blondie’s Rapture, before rushing headlong into its bruising chorus, tempos shifting restlessly throughout like quaking earth beneath the listener’s feet, or how Aegis put a brave new spin on The Mars Volta’s trademark rewiring of salsa’s overdriven passions, or how Cedric had never sounded as scary as he did on The Malkin Jewel’s mutant burlesque shuffle. Tracks like Molochwalker were sleek and concise in a way The Mars Volta had never really attempted before – which was all part of Omar’s plan.

“It had all been guitar, guitar, guitar, overdubs, everything fighting for space in the same frequency,” he explains. “So for Noctourniquet, it was all about subtracting elements, of sticking to how I made demos.” Deantoni’s presence helped revivify the group, playing against cliché and expectation, and taking each song in unexpected directions. “I’d beatbox a rhythm for him to play, to go with my guitar part, and he’d come back with three or four alternate options. It was so great.” Similarly, Cedric had never sung better than on Noctourniquet, staking out a fearsome spectrum from the chilling Tom Waitsian growl of The Malkin Jewel to the keening, beautiful vocalisation on Vedamalady, rising to match some of Omar’s most deft, most immediately effective and melodic songs yet. Indeed, Noctourniquet is the sound of a band discovering new ways to do familiar things, renewing their commitment to their mission, finding fresh inspiration a decade in, and shaking off any complacency that might have come with ten years of acclaim and success.

Soft Rock to Riches announces our first original songwriting winner: Jonathan Kirby from Winston-Salem, North Carolina! “This Is Your Song” is an evocative beat ballad dedicated to seemingly endless Southern summers, late night drives, and romantic realism. In the early morning hours of August 9th, 2018, Kirby layered the drum patterns, chords, and hushed harmonies through a Tascam four track while his dad slept in the next room. Written and recorded in just three hours, “This Is Your Song” fits comfortably alongside privately pressed electronic soul ballads from home recording’s heyday.

The Devin Dare Dusk Mix introduces Vivienne on Side B, adding a graceful harmony that champions Kirby’s pining refrain. The Dusk Mix flips Kirby’s ballad over a head nodding breakbeat with a hypnotic synthesizer line and light, airy brushes of strings and delay.

Jonathan Kirby is a musician and archivist known for his ambient jazz LPs Safe to Disconnect and Safe To Disconnect II, his writings for Wax Poetics, compilations for the Numero Group and his exhaustive archival research on the music of his native North Carolina.

Last summer, after living across the country from each other for several years, the four members of Anamanaguchi decided to try something new. Their label Polyvinyl had rescued the famed American Football house from potential destruction, so the band took the opportunity to move in and write together. Over the course of a month, Anamanaguchi – pioneers of hyper-melodic 8-bit rock, whose extraordinary ascent has led them to topping charts with virtual pop star Hatsune Miku and scoring Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: The Game and Netflix’s Scott Pilgrim Takes Off – flipped their typically meticulous digital process on its head. Anyway, the result, is the most personal record of their career. And it's a rock record for the ages.

Recorded straight to tape by Grammy-winning rock producer Dave Fridmann (The Flaming Lips, MGMT, Sleater-Kinney), Anyway united the members around live instruments and lyrics sung by everybody in the band. As Anamanaguchi has always been an instrumental band, the decision to sing suddenly confronted them with the question of what the band’s voice would ultimately be. They explore this newfound power in every song, making it their most emotionally resonant work yet.

Anyway captures a band creatively and personally energized by the experience of four best friends reviving their connection in a disconnected world. On “Rage (Kitchen Sink),” the band confront loneliness and boredom, two epidemics of the digital age that seem to be humanity’s only common bond. The power-pop ballad “Darcie” finds inspiration in small gestures from a local unsung hero, who brightens their lives and allows unforeseen amounts of fun to happen. Taut and dynamic, “Buckwild” is a rock sing-along that serves as the album’s genesis story: a band making an effort to do something new, while accepting the risks that may bring.

USA, Anamanaguchi’s critically-acclaimed second album and debut for Polyvinyl, anticipated a crucial cultural shift in moving from escapist, nostalgic fantasy to a more introspective exploration of digital identity. Described by Pitchfork as the band’s “most emotionally grounded record,” USA laid the foundation for the openness and honesty that defines Anyway. Where USA made sense of life online, their third album Anywayventures into the world outside the front door.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Back in December 2016, Jeshi fell asleep whilst driving home from a party at 5am, and he crashed into a park car, only to be woken up by the airbag exploding in his face. This is the inspiration for album two. The new album is a statement of waking up and levelling up from the last period of his life. This is a new era, and full of energy.

SHORT BIOG

Jeshi doesn't run away from fire; he runs with it. The East London artist is on a quest to feel alive in every sense. To him, feeling alive means being present in each experience, no matter how challenging. For Jeshi - who has spent the last few years establishing himself as one of the most exciting voices of his generation - this is what life and art are all about. Chaos, then, is not something to shy away from, but where great ideas are born.
Jeshi's electrifying second album, AIRBAG WOKE ME UP is a collection of moment-capturing songs built to ignite reactions and start conversations. His scene-stealing jaunts to stages worldwide clearly influence its live-wire sound, as Jeshi and his cohorts smash through moods and tempos like kids let loose on funfair dodgems. "I want to make things that have intent and feel like statements," Jeshi declares. His versatile voice is the conductive thread that pulls everything together. "On Universal Credit, my voice was used in one way, whereas on this it's used in ten ways," he notes.
AIRBAG WOKE ME UP is an exploration into what happens when you emerge from tough times, and how they encourage you to view the world a little differently. It's bolder in ambition and built from renewed energy. Chaotic, but in the very best way. "In my head, this is the real arrival chapter," states Jeshi. "The 'I am here, I've arrived' moment."

The prolific, virtuosic original Bjarki Sigurðarson returns to the concept album format, with ‘A Guide To Hellthier Lifestyle’. It’s the first LP to be released on Differance.

‘A Guide To Hellthier Lifestyle’ explores the psychological landscape of contemporary social issues, offering a sideways rumination on lifestyle dilemmas and wellness obsessions, presenting itself as a response to the modern condition. It combines storytelling with innovative sound textures – encouraging listeners to pause and contemplate the absurdities of contemporary life. Neither a critique nor an endorsement, it represents an honest exploration of our world through Bjarki’s sonic lens, gleaming a heart of darkness, but eventually finding light.

The album utilises hyper-stereo techniques, soothing melodies, complex audio structures, AIgenerated voices and sampled vocals – influenced by Coil, Genesis P- Orridge, and Paul Lansky. Bjarki investigates how specific frequencies can impact consciousness, awareness, mood, and mental state, thereby influencing our perception of reality. His vaporous sound design provides a listening experience that bridges the physical and imaginative realms; sometimes placing the listener in contemplative sanctuary, and at others making them lost – somewhere strange, uneasy, disconnected.

Bjarki on his Guide To Hellthier Lifestyle

“This new album has been two years in the works. It’s sort of my take on all the social weirdness and wellness obsessions happening right now. It kicked off with a track I started in California – the story of a soul that got born into the wrong womb. During that time, I was noticing more and more of this whole ‘wellness religion’ everywhere – people trying to sell you ‘good vibes’ and random people offering you life coaching sessions on Instagram who maybe have less life experience than a houseplant. All these apps that track our every move; it’s like they’re repackaging control and calling it ‘self care’. Capitalism in yoga pants. Thats when I started putting ‘A Guide To Hellthier Lifestyle’ concept together. A never ending, self improvement rabbit hole. We are all being sold this idea that we are not quite enough and we need to buy our way out to being better.

At one point, I took a break from the album and started working on another album full of satirical speeches, AI generated voices, where I create my own voices and type in some ideas of speeches, taking the piss out of wellness gurus and life coaches. I messed a lot with these AI voice generators, creating these deep, faux serious monologues. Proper weird stuff, but it cracked me up. Reminded me of the early days, when I was 13, making tracks on Fruity Loops, mucking around with text-to- speech generators. After the break I came back to finish ‘The Guide’ on a much deeper level.

I moved part of my studio to Latvia and continued in the countryside for few months. I realised that I just wanted something beautiful. So, yeah, this album is all of that. It’s spiritual, bits and pieces from the past, all these weird cultural moments, and whatever strange places my head goes. It’s a reflection, a rebellion, a bit of a piss take. But mostly, it’s just me, doing what I do.” - Duncan Clark

The album will be released only in its entirety, December 13th digi, with no advance singles.

Aesthetically, Ed Schrader’s Music Beat hates to tread water. At the same time, the Baltimore-based two-piece of vocalist Ed Schrader and bassist Devlin Rice won’t force their songs to fit a preconceived style. “The next album’s always gotta be different from the last one. We’re different people from record to record. So, writing authentically to ourselves will always bring our work to a place that we haven’t been to yet,” Rice said. Schrader added, “We’re terrified of turning into AC/DC. We never want to be married to one scene or time or sound. We want to be the Boba Fett of bands! Constantly altering the way in which we make records has been pretty key in that process.”
For Orchestra Hits, the band’s latest, that alteration was welcoming longtime musical comrade Dylan Going into the fold as a co-writer and co-producer. A songwriter in his own right, a guitar sideman for ESMB on their last two tours, and a collaborator with Rice in the noise riffage band Mandate, Going had both a unique vision and an intimate familiarity with the ESMB vibe.
“Dylan came to every show we’ve ever played in New York—no matter how weird it was,” Schrader said. “He’d be standing there ready to move an amp or feed us barbecued cactus after the gig and toss on some Golden Girls so we could decompress. It felt like family as soon as we began working, but I honestly had no idea how damn good he was at tossing out these hooks.”
According to Schrader, the songs “just poured out of us” over the course of a highly caffeinated three-day weekend in a tiny room in Devlin’s house while his cat, Sandy Goose, screamed continually. “It was like three kids hiding from the world to get into some lovely mischief,” they said. The lack of external pressure in the process gives Orchestra Hits an almost paradoxical vibe. For all of the album’s layers, that mix live and sequenced instruments, it never loses the raw energy of a small handful of friends in the same room plugging in, cranking up, and playing until they pass out.
Lyrically, the album finds Schrader, now 45, meditating on experiences in their youth to make sense of the present moment. “We are not into the garden,” Schrader wails on the relentless “Roman Candle,” a song about the sad debacle of Woodstock ’99, and a direct response to Joni Mitchell’s “Woodstock,” a utopian ode to hippie idealism. A 19-year-old Schrader, having snuck into Woodstock ’99 through a hole in the fence, was there the night members of the crowd used candles intended for a vigil for victims of the Columbine High School massacre to set fires all over the grounds. Even before the fires, Schrader remembered feeling disconnected from the music, the nostalgic cash grab, and the meatheads in the crowd. After watching a press tower collapse, they boarded a random shuttle bus and were dropped off near a Denny’s. “It was a far cry from the Garden of Eden,” Schrader said. “That experience defined what I didn’t want to be a part of, and yet America is more like Woodstock ’99 than ever.”
With percolating synthesizer arpeggios, and climbing bass grooves, “IDKS” is the album’s dance-floor slapper. “’IDKS’ is a funny one,” Schrader said. “We already had a pretty satisfying suite of songs when Dylan was packing up to head back to New York, but he missed the train because of a freak snowstorm. Realizing he’d be stuck in town another day, he says to me, ‘Here’s this other weird thing I have.’ It was ‘IDKS.’ The hooks were so good I felt like Homer Simpson at a free donut convention. I just dove right in, and we cranked that baby out in like 20 minutes.”
Lyrically, “IDKS” is a letter from the true self to public-facing self. “It’s an angry song,” Schrader said. “Because the public-facing self is always looking for an easy escape, but it forces the true self into a cage. I honestly thought my lyrics were corny and was about to change them, but Dylan was digging it just the way it was. So that’s what you hear.”
With the soaring “Daylight Commander,” the band went against all of their musty-basement-bred instincts. “I went full High School Musical with the vocals,” Schrader said. “At first it felt almost embarrassing, but I remember reading somewhere that Bowie recommended always floating a little bit above your comfort zone, and that’s what we did here.” The song is part exercise in absurdity and part pop Trojan horse. “If ever we had a ‘Shiny Happy People’ moment, I guess this is it,” Schrader said.

Ontario-based metalcore heavyweights, Counterparts, are back with the release of their new live album, Live In Toronto, out via Pure Noise Records. The band released the colossal A Eulogy For Those Still Here in 2022 (drawing praise from the likes of Stereogum, Revolver Magazine, BrooklynVegan, Exclaim, and more), and have been touring nearly nonstop ever since. Now Live In Toronto captures Counterparts at the peak of their powers in that live element. "We hit record and played a show," laughs vocalist Brendan Murphy. "When we did this, it was our biggest headline show to date and that combined with the fact that it was so close to home, we wanted to document it in a cool way. Kyle killed the mix too. Probably the best we’ve ever sounded.”

Sechstes Album der norwegischen Prog-Rock-Meister um Multiinstrumentalist und Sänger Bjorn Riis.
Jeder Track zeigt die charakteristische Verschmelzung sanfter Selbstbeobachtung und dynamischer Energie, von den hypnotisierenden Tiefen von 'Dysphoria' bis zum eindringlichen Crescendo von 'Tyrants And Kings'. Die fünf Tracks bestechen durch unwiderstehliche Gesangseinlagen und virtuose Leadgitarrenarbeit, die zum Synonym für den Airbag-Sound geworden ist. Während sich das Album entfaltet, wird der Zuhörer auf eine Reise durch Selbstbeobachtung und Intensität mitgenommen, von der introspektiven Ballade 'Awakening' bis zu den erhabenen Tiefen der Single 'Erase'. Dieser Song weckt Anklänge an ihre gefeierte Arbeit auf dem Album 'Disconnected' und entwickelt sich von einer hypnotischen Basslinie zu einem Kraftpaket aus schweren Refrains, die den Grundstein für den epischen 15-minütigen Abschluss von 'Tear it Down' legen. Doch 'The Century of the Self' ist mehr als nur eine Klang-Odyssee - es ist ein Spiegelbild unseres modernen Zeitgeists. Das Album befasst sich mit Themen der Abbruchkultur sowie dem Umschreiben persönlicher Geschichten, und bietet einen ergreifenden Kommentar zu einer Welt voller Angst und Verurteilung.

Sechstes Album der norwegischen Prog-Rock-Meister um Multiinstrumentalist und Sänger Bjorn Riis.
Jeder Track zeigt die charakteristische Verschmelzung sanfter Selbstbeobachtung und dynamischer Energie, von den hypnotisierenden Tiefen von 'Dysphoria' bis zum eindringlichen Crescendo von 'Tyrants And Kings'. Die fünf Tracks bestechen durch unwiderstehliche Gesangseinlagen und virtuose Leadgitarrenarbeit, die zum Synonym für den Airbag-Sound geworden ist. Während sich das Album entfaltet, wird der Zuhörer auf eine Reise durch Selbstbeobachtung und Intensität mitgenommen, von der introspektiven Ballade 'Awakening' bis zu den erhabenen Tiefen der Single 'Erase'. Dieser Song weckt Anklänge an ihre gefeierte Arbeit auf dem Album 'Disconnected' und entwickelt sich von einer hypnotischen Basslinie zu einem Kraftpaket aus schweren Refrains, die den Grundstein für den epischen 15-minütigen Abschluss von 'Tear it Down' legen. Doch 'The Century of the Self' ist mehr als nur eine Klang-Odyssee - es ist ein Spiegelbild unseres modernen Zeitgeists. Das Album befasst sich mit Themen der Abbruchkultur sowie dem Umschreiben persönlicher Geschichten, und bietet einen ergreifenden Kommentar zu einer Welt voller Angst und Verurteilung.

Sechstes Album der norwegischen Prog-Rock-Meister um Multiinstrumentalist und Sänger Bjorn Riis.
Jeder Track zeigt die charakteristische Verschmelzung sanfter Selbstbeobachtung und dynamischer Energie, von den hypnotisierenden Tiefen von 'Dysphoria' bis zum eindringlichen Crescendo von 'Tyrants And Kings'. Die fünf Tracks bestechen durch unwiderstehliche Gesangseinlagen und virtuose Leadgitarrenarbeit, die zum Synonym für den Airbag-Sound geworden ist. Während sich das Album entfaltet, wird der Zuhörer auf eine Reise durch Selbstbeobachtung und Intensität mitgenommen, von der introspektiven Ballade 'Awakening' bis zu den erhabenen Tiefen der Single 'Erase'. Dieser Song weckt Anklänge an ihre gefeierte Arbeit auf dem Album 'Disconnected' und entwickelt sich von einer hypnotischen Basslinie zu einem Kraftpaket aus schweren Refrains, die den Grundstein für den epischen 15-minütigen Abschluss von 'Tear it Down' legen. Doch 'The Century of the Self' ist mehr als nur eine Klang-Odyssee - es ist ein Spiegelbild unseres modernen Zeitgeists. Das Album befasst sich mit Themen der Abbruchkultur sowie dem Umschreiben persönlicher Geschichten, und bietet einen ergreifenden Kommentar zu einer Welt voller Angst und Verurteilung.