quête:doe

Swimming Paul’s music has always lived in the push-and-pull between euphoria and melancholy; the rare kind of electronic music that can make you cry while your body keeps moving.



On Smiling Through the Pain 2 (out October 24 via Headroom Records), the French-born, London-based producer doubles down on that emotional duality, delivering an album that feels as much like a diary as it does a DJ set.

Over the course of 15 tracks, Paul stitches together late-night catharsis, suburban nostalgia, and the jagged tenderness of early adulthood. The record is sequenced like an unbroken night out: the giddy anticipation, the sudden moments of reflection, the quiet comedown as the sun edges in. It’s an album that refuses to treat joy and sadness as opposites, they coexist here, often in the same chord progression.



“I don’t want to escape the feelings, I want to bring them with me” Paul says. “If you can’t stop thinking about something, you might as well dance with it.”

That philosophy runs through the singles: the emotional release of Holly (with Junior Simba), the aching nostalgia of Different Time, the hypnotic haze of Hard 2 Sleep, and the house-driven Drinking to Get Drunk, a bittersweet ode to nights spent outrunning your own thoughts. Elsewhere, Liza M1 folds heartbreak into an almost triumphant piano hook, while Shine a Light urges listeners to take risks and live without hesitation—as if youth’s boldness could be bottled.



Since debuting in 2023, Swimming Paul has quietly built an empire on emotional resonance: 150 million streams across platforms, 1.9 million monthly listeners on Spotify and more than 50 editorial placements (including Dance Party, Crying on the Dancefloor, Electronic Rising….), 10,000+ radio spins worldwide, and sold-out tours across Europe and North America. His sound has earned co-signs from BBC Radio 1, Triple J, KCRW, Sirius XM and a wave of DJs who value melody as much as momentum.

But Smiling Through the Pain 2 isn’t chasing charts, it’s chasing connections. Paul’s global fanbase, nurtured through a lively Discord community and nights on the road, has become a two-way conversation, with fans’ stories feeding back into the music’s emotional core.
This autumn, Paul takes the album to stages that match its ambition, from London to a string of US club dates, festivals and intimate pop ups designed for shared release.



Smiling Through the Pain 2 is an invitation to feel everything at once. To sweat through the sadness. To let your guard down under strobe lights. To realise that the best nights out don’t make you forget; they help you remember.

Side A takes us across the pond for a British funk-rock classic: “Give It To You” from UPP’s 1975 self-titled LP. Already sacred in sample lore, its breakbeat (written by drummer Jimmy Copley) has fueled Eric B. & Rakim, Gang Starr, Jeru, Del, DJ Shadow & more. This edit amplifies the raw pocket — drums, fills, transitions — pushing them forward w/o losing grit. Produced by Jeff Beck, UPP’s LP fused funk, fusion & rock, giving the break shimmer & weight beyond pure drum programming. For DJs, this is precision-built: roomy enough to drop hats, scratches, or vocals, yet solid enough to ride raw.

On the flip, the S.S.O. Orchestra’s 1977 gem “Faded Lady.” Lush, cinematic textures — strings, vocals, bass, pads — laced in funk/soul arrangements. Sample lineage runs deep: Diamond D (“I Went for Mine”), Busta Rhymes’ “New York Shit,” Nas’ “Something Foul.” This edit doesn’t destroy or over-chop — it finds the sweet spots, letting the horns, pads & mood breathe. Not a break tune but a vibe: atmosphere & weight for DJs to lean into.

Together, these 2 sides deliver a powerful juxtaposition:

Label boss Truncate is back with a solo EP. Raw, deep, hypnotic techno grooves as he does best.

Rufus Wainwright's I'm a Stranger Here Myself - Wainwright Does Weill is a compelling tribute album that delves into the rich and complex songbook of German-American composer Kurt Weill. Known for his theatrical flair and vocal prowess, Wainwright brings a unique interpretation to Weill's compositions, which are celebrated for their fusion of classical, cabaret, and jazz elements. Premiering in May 2023 at New York City's Café Carlyle, "Wainwright Does Weill" marked Wainwright's first extensive exploration of Weill's repertoire. Rufus Wainwright’s fascination with Kurt Weill’s music goes back for decades — in his early twenties he wore out the vinyl grooves of Teresa Stratas’ famous Weill album. While Weill‘s musical influence can be heard in Wainwright‘s own songs, he had never dedicated an entire evening to singing the German musician’s songs, until now. With the Pacific Jazz Orchestra under the baton of Chris Walden, he has expanded the orchestral palette for his approach to Kurt Weill.

2025 Repress

DJ Koze exists both above and beyond club culture as we know it - his albums and remixes flying free from genre and trend - and symbiotically woven into its heart. Yes, he always abstracts and weirds out the principles of house, techno, hip hop, pop, psychedelia, exotica and so forth, but he does that because he understands them. And when it comes to club-demolishing tracks, he understands those principles as well as just about anybody on earth. Thus he could create an enduring club tune like 2015's 'XTC' that is strange, contemplative, even disturbing, bore little relation to anything around at the time, yet still got bodies moving and sweating better than way more obvious techno bangers. And thus the Knock Knock album, which melts a million genres and none into one another, can comfortably include 'Seeing Aliens". 'Seeing Aliens' unquestionably is a banger, its bass riff snaking around your body like a python, its high-drama strings, pianos and outbursts of noise designed for maximum crowd pressure release. But, again, it sounds like nothing else, and its dynamics and twists unfold over eight and a half minutes in ways that will mess with your head every time no matter how many times you hear it. The exclusive b-side track, 'Nein König Nein' ("No King No"!), meanwhile, is slightly gentler on the face of it: it's less about sonic pressure, more about hip-shaking syncopation. But it too tells strange fairytales in its peculiar and brain-tweaking accumulation of detail, and though you'll hear archetypal sounds from the heart of house and disco in it, every last one of them becomes new and otherworldly.

GATEFOLD DOUBLE VINYL WITH SPOT UV FRONT COVER

Following the skewed-unself-help-brilliance of ‘Sus Dog’ (which marked his first full foray into songs, abetted by Thom Yorke), and its companion piece ‘Cave Dog’, Chris Clark returns to the dancefloor’s simple, but no less affecting pleasures, with ‘Steep Stims’.
“I found it hard to pull away from listening to this record, hard to stop making it, I had to remove myself from the Stims and stop enjoying it at some point. The album feels like nature to me. I love it when electronic music feels more naturalistic than acoustic music, more potent, that’s the devil’s trick, the promise of electronic music.” comments Chris.
“I used an old synth - the Virus on all of the tracks. I used it at Mess in Melbourne - run by my friend Robin Fox - I loved it so much I had to buy one when I got back to the UK, it took a while to find. They’re a bit clunky to program but make some of my most favourite sounds.”
‘Steep Stims’ marks a back-to-basics approach, invoking the early years of gung-ho creativity enforced by limitations in technology at the time. “Most of the tracks on this album capture the spirit of making music on old samplers, which don’t have much memory time”, explains Clark. “It reminds me of making ‘Clarence Park’, my first album, where I would have to finish tunes in the session, as they would be saved on floppy disks and I couldn’t easily go between tracks. This new record is just a few synths and a few choice sounds; the writing is the important thing.”
Made quickly, ‘Steep Stims’ reflects the immediate rave energy of his live show, but that’s not to say it’s basic floor fodder, as it’s rife with personality, synth magic, and knack for melody. Although swift and impressionistically captured rather than laboured over, it’s still formidably deft, with plenty of oddball weirdness lurking beneath the dancefloor.
Soft, orange, scorched, brutal, the opening track ‘Gift and Wound’ captures the classic dance music dread / awe / euphoria combo perfectly, before ‘Infinite Roller’ merges sparkly-minimalism with snarling bass and soft sines, which turn more dense and metallic as it progresses.
The melancholic smoke belch of ‘No Pills U’ gives strong classic vibrations, which is belied by its creation, made in just 20 minutes. “I love working quickly sometimes”, comments Clark. “Inspiration hits, rough and ready. It’s off the cuff but also screams ‘don’t gild the lily with nonsense, keep it simple keep it clean’”. Segueing into its elder brother, the piece becomes bigger and beatier on ‘Janus Modal’, where it permutates for over 7 minutes of fluttering, beatific club majesty.
At ‘18EDO Bailiff’ you inexplicably find yourself at a clearing, things have suddenly got much quieter. You enter a decrepit and eerie old house, and as you move through its unsettling interior, you arrive at ‘Globecore Flats’. A real piano tuned to 18 notes per octave gives the pair of tracks a haunted, olde worlde feel, which promptly gets eaten by a huge tech step tearout monster, birthing a strange but exotic beast.
The white hot ‘Blowtorch Thimble’ is all hooktasm-rave-hyper-amen-energy, whilst acidic flute leaps around like Ian Anderson on pingers throughout the catchily simple jump-up lurch of ‘Civilians’.
“‘In Patient’s Day Out’ is like some sort of Morricone-does-kraut-rock-with-drum-machines, but that’s probably just in my head” says Clark. “I made several versions of this then went with the early mix but cranked through some choice outboard because it just had something.”
Drumless, yet still full of exhilarating-big-trance-drama, ‘Who Booed The Goose’ flashes by in stroboscopic fast forward, then ‘5 Millionth Cave Painting’ gives a palate cleanser, letting “the virus with its delicious broken, luxurious reverb have a moment”, before ‘Negation Loop’ swoops down in all its glory, with Clark’s tweaked vocals leading deconstructed trance breakdowns, tape edits and brutal noisebursts.
An antidote to the bombast of its predecessor is ‘Micro Lyf’, which closes the set on a poignant note, of sorts. Muted staccato gives way to field recordings “that gradually put it in this outside space; alien in a meadow somewhere nameless. It feels like a sinkhole. The record kinda swallows itself up and then is gone”, ends Chris.

On a "Balearic-Jazz trip", the phenomenally hyped Thought Leadership returns with another X ideas: the deck this time chooses the Ace of Swords. In the acclaim garnered by III of Pentacles, there were many whispers of “Balearic” from those in the know. As soon as you drop the needle on XI you will be basking in turbo Balearica.

Originally out on cassette only, we present the first ever vinyl issue. It's a hideously limited pressing of 300 for the world, so don't sleep on this.

The sonic palate has been augmented by the addition of synth and bass; there are more guitar layers, more pedals and more organic drums this time – a much fuller production. Still DIY, and still recorded straight to multitrack, just ever so slightly grander in scale; think a rough-hewn, long-lost Claremont 56 cut and you’ll have some idea of how XI opens this future classic LP.

The touchstones so key to the vision of Pentacles (Cocteau Twins, Dif Juz, Durutti Column) are all still present and correct; XII could be a piece from Extractions, XIII is pure Garlands-era Guthrie and, now with the shuffling jazz drums, XV makes TL even more LC – but more disparate influences are found this time out too. ECM guitar legends John Abercrombie and Pat Metheny in the more considered melodic phrasing and harmonic structure of the ideas and a nod to the cosmic Balearic spirit in the overall vibe, means more is offered to the listener across Swords.

XVI and XVII are the biggest indicators to Thought Leaderships’ new found love of The Real Book and their grasp of jazz chords. The former sounds like if Mike Hedges had produced on a heavily sedated ECM date in the early 80s, whilst the latter is Bright Size Life condensed into a most post-punk shard of Strat conversation. The syrupy Phase 90 on the lead parts lends much weight to the guitar melodies, a beautiful tonal counterpoint to the Vox-ish chimes of the plangent chords we’ve all come to love.

The flip again treats us to three extended, improvised jams. XVIII owes as much to Canterbury as it does to Krautrock, another modal voyage through the stars. Light the incense and drift away, guided by delayed cymbals and weaving ribbons of guitar. XIX has almost a New-Wave/Sophisti-Pop energy to it in tone, if not in structure and execution. Something almost Tears for Fears-esque in the chiming chorus guitars. An interesting outlier that has already received a lot of love from those that have heard it. XX is the starkest idea, and the only piece this time with no drums. What we do get, however, is a free exploration over a two chord-vamp. It’s Harvest Time meets Planet Caravan and a fitting end to this Balearic jazz trip.

Be With is honoured to present the first ever vinyl release of Ace Of Swords, carefully remastered by Be With's engineer Simon Francis to ensure it sounds better than ever after its initial tape release. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut at Abbey Road Studios whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry, in Holland. The original tape cover artwork, so crucial to Thought Leadership's striking visual aesthetic, has been rejigged for vinyl issue here at Be With.

The last one flew. You have been warned.

Foehn & Jerome. The duo that does what duo's do best. Born in Austria and based in Berlin, Fabian and Christopher not only produce together, but also perform as a DJ team and run their own label entitled "Perfumed Freedom".

Or Kantor returns with his sophomore album Snake Island, a vivid and cinematic journey through imagined landscapes and lost love, for fans of Eden Ahbez and other seekers of sound and spirit.

Following the critical success of his 2024 debut Sarda Sarda, praised by BBC Radio 6 Music, FIP Radio, RRR Australia, WYEP, KCRW, and Songlines Magazine, Kantor continues to refine his distinctive sonic identity, grounded in instrumental storytelling.

With Snake Island, Kantor ventures deeper into what he calls Subterranean Music, an atmospheric fusion of Mediterranean ballads, desert blues, spiritual jazz, and psychedelic textures. Drawing inspiration from artists such as Gábor Szabó, Omar Khorshid, The Budos Band, Dorothy Ashby, and Tommy Guerrero, he crafts instrumentals that feel both timeless and cinematic.

"Snake Island was written as a soundtrack to a fictional film that disappeared from the world, one that most likely no one has ever seen," says Kantor. "It began as a tragic love story, imagined during my time on a remote island in the Cyclades. Every landscape felt like a scene waiting for music. Eventually, the story gave way to sound."

A respected tattoo artist and founder of the Love Light Studio, Kantor's musical path began after a chance encounter with Johnny Sharoni (Garden City Movement, A&R at Anova Records). During a tattoo session, Sharoni heard Kantor's demos and was immediately struck by their raw beauty.

Kantor now steps confidently into the next chapter of his creative journey. Snake Island is more than an album. It is a mythic, imagined soundtrack to a film that only exists in memory, rendered in tones that shimmer like heat on stone.

NAIVE020 epitomizes what the Lisbon-based label, run by Violet, has become cherished for: imaginative yet timeless, soothing yet moody, melodic yet sonic music. Entitled 'Computer Hermetics', this new record is an EP by Berlin-based UrbnMowgli.

The opening track, 'Fast Love Life', is a 145 bpm electro-bred, breakbeat-driven emotive dancefloor banger. It features menacing stabs juxtaposed with beautiful pads and acid-drenched arpeggio motifs that lend it a oneiric quality. 'Oracle Algorithm' picks up the 303 spirit and delves into trippier territories, densening the dreamlike, expansive atmosphere while infusing the record with electro-driven grit. Closing side A is 'Warschauer Rush-Hour', a futuristik, high-tempo twisted electro banger that's both tough and playful.

'Immaterial Desires' inaugurates side B—an ode to adventurous drum programming and intricate sound design in the form of a percussion-punctuated curveball belter. 'Digital Dawn' brings it all back home to the heart and closes the record with its deepest, most immersive moment, giving us big bass lines that alchemically converse with angelic bleepy melodies as if soundtracking a soulful sci fi movie that doesn't exist yet.

Within the world of theatrical archives, there are the known, the unknown, the forgotten, and the lost. Demetrio Stratos' stage compositions for Teatro dell'Elfo's groundbreaking 1979 production Satyricon - directed by future Oscar winner Gabriele Salvatores - represents one such lost artifact now wondrously returned to life. This radical sonic work, integrating extended vocal techniques, Balinese instruments, and pioneering whale song recordings, stands as the final masterpiece of Italy's most visionary vocal experimenter, lost for over four decades until Die Schachtel's extraordinary recovery. As Stratos himself explained: "The musical operation performed on Satyricon is particular: the composer-musician here does not compose, but borrows ready-made music, vivisects it, melts it, intervenes and recomposes it on magnetic tape. The structure of the signifier, from a morphological point of view, presents itself as a conceptual collage." The music is obtained by utilizing compositions and musical elements from David Behrman, Joan La Barbara, Balinese Ketyak, Turkish Nay flute, Yugoslavian bagpipe, Pan flute, and whale song, with synthesizer interventions by Paolo Tofani. It began as part of something known - a wild, immersive theatrical event that inaugurated Teatro dell'Elfo's historic venue in 1979, was almost entirely forgotten, becoming lost and then unknown. The original production marked a radical departure for the company: no longer popular street theatre, but a dark, immersive, sophisticated spectacle that transformed their space into a rough wooden arena with a sand floor. Demetrio Stratos, working with Paolo Tofani (fellow Area member), created an entire sonic universe that subverted every conventional function of stage music. Their composition wasn't accompaniment, but autonomous sonic dramaturgy that integrated extended vocal techniques, archaic electronic elements, Nay flutes, Balinese instruments, and pioneering whale song recordings. The result was a three-dimensional soundscape that enveloped audiences, creating an otherworldly acoustic dimension. Stratos' score even intervened in the actors' vocal delivery, with the recordings capturing both the performance and his coaching sessions with the cast. The production featured young actors destined for fame - Elio De Capitani, Ferdinando Bruni, Cristina Crippa, Corinna Agustoni, Ida Marinelli - guided by Gabriele Salvatores in this adaptation of Petronius' ancient novel. Shortly after the Satyricon performances, Stratos was hospitalized for the condition that would lead to his death at just 33 years old. This work represents his final composition - a haunting farewell from one of Italy's most innovative sound artists. Die Schachtel presents this recovered work in collaboration with Teatro dell'Elfo, pulled from the original magnetic tape and carefully restored. Satyricon '79 is one of the great artifacts of 1970s Italian avant-garde - a wild, grinding sonic expose which sucks the ear into its depths, made in the spirit of collaboration and creative risk-taking. The edition includes critical apparatus with essays, testimonies from protagonists, and period photographic documentation, documenting an unrepeatable moment where theatre, vocal research and sonic experimentation converged. This release marks a poignant moment in experimental music history - Stratos' final work, now rescued from the archives and restored to its rightful place in the canon of Italian avant-garde masterpieces. A true wonder of towering historical importance. As essential as it gets for any fan of experimental music, or the history of the Italian avant-garde. Fully restored and newly mastered from the original analog tapes. Absolutely essential.

From the humdrum to the huge; Tiia explores heartbreak, disappointment, climate change, and dying house plants. The record plays with contrasts, light and shadow, fizz and gloom. Keys melt into darker textures before guitars and drums lift them back into sparkle. It's heaviest moment is the title track, written in an airport bathroom after Tiia's father passed, yet even here, hope breaks through in irresistible vocal harmonies and inventive melodies. "To me, 'Kind Eyes' is a feelings record," Tiia says. "The grief for my dad passing sits at the centre and expands towards the edges, but there's a range of other feelings too. Sometimes they're hard to pin down and navigate but the songs are my map, trying to chart where you are and where you're going. And listeners should remember that sometimes X does mark the spot."

Lead single 'Healing' hits like a mascara- smeared midnight drive through Lynch's America. First sketched with Prince in mind, it finally found its teeth on a long, lonely walk in north-east London: a rock song hiding in plain sight. Tiia says "As soon as I had a rough idea for the driving beat, I knew I had to get Sean Berry (fellow bandmate from the once mighty Comet Sands) involved on the guitar, and the hooks all fell into place". Dusted with plush keys, on 'Numbers Game', Tiia leans into classic rock drama - warmth turning suddenly cold, the floor falling away from underneath you. "The lesson here is don't spy on your exes, but when you do, be prepared to write a song about it. It was the first track I asked Paul Rains (of Allo Darlin' fame) to play guitar on and he instantly got where I was trying to go with it. Now he's my partner, I have no idea how he feels about the lyrics!" Tiia laughs. Having also worked with Tiia's previous cult all-girl indie band The Minor Characters, Seb Kellig lent his trademark dub- inspired production influences at the legendary sonic heaven of Sausage Studios, east London, which Tiia calls "My happy place".

Tiia will again be playing keys for Allo Darlin's four UK tour dates this October followed by tour dates as Count Jaakola. 'Kind Eyes' is set for release 21st November 2025 via Tip Top Recordings (Mandrake Handshake, Japanese Television, Pearl & The Oysters, Golden Toad).

Secretsundaze’s recently minted 9FINITY continues its stellar run of explorations into the outer regions of modern club music with an imprint debut from fast-rising talent Milès Borghese.

Borrowing elements from early Detroit techno, and Perlonized minimal, the ‘Antic Drive’ EP distills the German-born, Austria-based producer’s broad spectrum of influences into a highly functional, club-ready collection of tracks that perfectly fits the imprint’s modus operandi.

The A-side kicks off with ‘Do You Ever Fantasize’, a deep club tool built around the vocal sample of the title and punctuated by building drums, alien sonics at every turn, and a mean, highly danceable bassline to boot. The peak time worthy ‘Sustain’ follows an impressive opening, as an incessant mind-looping hypnotic groover aimed straight at the floor.

The EP’s title track ‘Antic Drive’ opens up the flip. Leaning on subtle textures and almost off kilter percussion, minimal broody deepness is the motive here. Borghese’s impressive first outing wraps up with ‘Mateo Does’, a driving rhythm-heavy track built for late nights and early mornings.

E23 Records is an independent label from Amersfoort that releases music moving between electro, wave, EBM, and acid—sounds that feel familiar, but not quite at ease. Each release is built with care, made to be both an object to collect and a small joke at the universe’s expense. Patterns appear where they want to, chance plays its role, and sometimes the numbers line up in ways that feel more than coincidental. Tune in, and see what reveals itself.

E23 Records launches its catalog with three dark electro transmissions from Amersfoort residents Son of 8-Bits, Mavanov, and Law Of Fives. Opening with Son of 8-Bits’ “Deliverance”, the record sets an ominous tone: heavy bass pressure and sharp machine rhythms push forward with a cold, driving pulse built for late hours. Mavanov’s “Dark Romanticism” drifts into sparse, hypnotic territory, where cold mechanics meet faint traces of emotion. Law of Fives’ “Primer” closes the trip with an urgent workout that turns rhythm into a labyrinth—metallic strikes, pulsing bass, and restless sequences coiling together, building toward moments where chaos threatens to take over but never quite does.

Together, the three cuts form a statement of intent: E001 is moody, uncompromising electro with just enough strangeness to keep the floor on edge. A first chapter that hints at many more signals to come.

Better Together Records is pleased to welcome the duo Hiworld into the BTR family with their etheral and multi genre project “Temple do Sol”.

Hiworld is the collaborative project of Eora based artists Mondowun and Toaka. Born from a long-standing friendship and shared passion for the world of electronic music. Inspired by their Portuguese and Polynesian backgrounds, nostalgic 90s culture, and reality-altering records. Their forthcoming EP ‘Temple Do Sol’ captures a world where technology does NOT reign supreme and people’s bonds are built through reality and NOT the digital realm. The record builds evocative atmospheres and distinct worlds, offering listeners a space to access personal memories and create new experiences.

As always, Solace in unity at the end of eternity.

Natacha Atlas ist eine international gefeierte Künstlerin mit einer der markantesten Stimmen der Welt. Die anglo-ägyptische Sängerin verbindet seit mehr als zwei Jahrzehnten elektronische Beats mit nordafrikanischer und arabischer Musik, entdeckt Verbindungen zwischen scheinbar gegensätzlichen Musikgenres, erforscht neue klangliche Welten und arbeitet dabei mit zahlreichen gleichgesinnten Künstler:innen aus aller Welt zusammen. The Best Of Natacha Atlas wurde ursprünglich im Mai 2005 veröffentlicht und ist jetzt erstmals als Vinyl erhältlich. Als dieses Best-of damals erschien, wollte Natacha nicht einfach nur eine Sammlung von Albumtiteln herausbringen. Mehrere Stücke wurden neu gemischt oder überarbeitet, was Natacha selbst in die Hand nahm. Damals sagte sie: "Ich habe beschlossen, ein paar Titel neu aufzunehmen, von denen ich fand, dass sie eine Überarbeitung oder Aktualisierung brauchten." Ebenfalls enthalten sind ihre atemberaubenden Versionen des Françoise-Hardy- Klassikers , des James-Bond-Themes , und James Browns.

Marc Brauner joins Flipsight with a four-track journey combining soulful depth and club-ready energy in equal measure.
Under Marc's motto, "Stay Radiant", the A-side opens with a deep head-nodder that glows with a smooth and rolling groove from start to finish. "It's Alright" immediately raises the pulse with tight percussion, lush pads, and feel good momentum.

Flip it over for the B-side, "Show Me How" rides a big kick-snare combo and subtle spacy accents. Closing things out, "Floaty" does exactly what the title suggests: a bass-driven buzzer that lifts the floor and seals the deal.

In 2023, k.d.b lived in a crumbling farmhouse on the edge of the River Maas. Each morning, he’d wake at 6:00 and walk along the river’s bank with his dogfriend Miemel, pausing at sunrise for a cup of coffee.

It’s 6:34, and a thick rug of mist rolls out across the river. It’s so dense that k.d.b can’t see the water beneath it. Then comes the sun: a single ray cutting through the mist like a tube of light, landing on Miemel’s face. In her mouth is a CD she’s picked up, and on the CD is the title Instrumental Romance.

'What is Instrumental Romance?' thinks k.d.b. 'Romantic instrumentals? Or a romance used instrumentally? As in, a romance used to get something—like love?'

Miemel drops the CD and turns her attention to a stray purple grape on the path. Grapes are poisonous to dogs, and as she bends toward it, k.d.b. shouts, “NO!” At that precise moment, a large fish rises from the mist. It launches into the air, mouth wide open, and hangs there above the clouds. His shout, having traveled across the river, bounces back towards k.d.b with a “NO,” and in perfect synchrony, it appears the fish is also shouting at Miemel. The timing is so perfect, they can’t be sure it isn’t.

The fish falls back down, entering its watery world with an eerie, splashless silence, leaving k.d.b and Miemel standing open-mouthed on the bank. Before they can register the perfection of this duet, another fish (or maybe the same one again) rises from the mist in the exact same spot and launches into the air. Without thinking, k.d.b shouts again. The word “ROMANCE” comes out. This time, however, he is slightly too late, and the word is too long, so “ROMANCE” lingers on after the fish has already fallen back down.

'What even is romance?' thinks k.d.b. 'The construction of mystery or excitement with dead red flowers and timing?'

A foghorn sounds behind him, and k.d.b turns 180 degrees to see a boat moving freight, right to left, along the River Maas. 'That’s strange', he thinks. 'If the river is there, then what’s that behind me, below the mist?'

Staring at the boat and its shipping containers as they float out of sight, k.d.b imagines a man. The man is standing at the bottom of a small valley, holding a fish. 'Who is this man, and what does he want?'

- Jacob Dwyer

The Nightlife isn’t just a single. It’s a fever dream. Honey Dijon and Chloë have built a sonic peephole into a city that only half-existed—New York’s Meatpacking District in the late ’70s, that liminal wet haze where sweat, leather, and desire commingled under streetlights that flickered like dying stars. Imagine Blade Runner rewritten by Jean Genet, but scored for bodies pressed together at 4 a.m.—that’s the terrain.

And in the marrow of this track, the ghost of Kim English’s Nitelife thrums—an invocation of the 1990s underground, those rooms where freedom was fragile but absolute. Honey Dijon doesn’t just sample it. She resuscitates it, drags it into the now, dresses it in sequins and grief, insists we dance harder because the future is burning quicker.

This isn’t nostalgia. This isn’t homage. This is ritual. A reminder that nightlife was always resistance—radical, erotic, communal. And The Nightlife is a portal, a signal flare, maybe even an omen. Something larger is coming. Consider this the first act.

After two years of silence, whispers and speculation, the enigmatic junglist known only as San emerges once more from the underground, returning to Rua Sound with a third strike of ice-cold, precision-engineered jungle.

No other junglist delivers this kind of power — ruthless breakbeats, sinister atmospherics, and sub-bass that haunts the night itself.

San was forged in the smoke and grit of the dancefloor, born of a need for jungle futurism, breakbeat terrorism, and hardcore sub-bass gangsterism. He doesn't just make tracks — he leaves warnings, coded messages in rhythm for those tuned to the right frequency.

This isn't just music. This is the return of the anti-hero, the lone gunman in the rain-soaked streets of jungle's future.

For our ninth offering we have ventured out of our small but fertile swamp in search of another source of magick. Meandering across boggy pastures new, we crossed paths with Steevio, who sat hovering serenely in the fern covered shade of a nearby valley. Instantly recognising the singular vision of this fabled artist, we hastily gathered our nets and cast them under Steevio’s branches, capturing four beautiful offerings as they wriggled towards us. Upon the return to our mulch, it became clear that we could not contain Steevio’s creations, so willful was their vitality. It was therefore all we could do to release them back to the universal dance from whence they came.

The dance germinates with the writhing polyrhythmic ‘Apricity’. Hearing the crunch of frost laden grass beneath our webbed toes, we look above us to search for the sun. Angular beams of light escape over the horizon, as the warmth of Steevio’s machines coalesce. A glistening hi hat breaks through the membrane to bind his creation and anchor its ever shifting arms.

‘Octopus’ glides gracefully through a sun-dappled kelp forest. Sub frequencies rumble up from the shadowy darkness below, rippling along the fronds as they ascend. As the ocean begins to churn, a wriggling melodic tentacle parts the foliage, gleaming with primordial energy. Its joyful visit to the surface realm leaves us with a brief yet powerful reminder of the mystery beneath.

The glow of the midwinter sun warms our bones on ‘Apricity (Sunrise Mix)’. Percussive elements bubble out of the depths, forming intricate cascading patterns as they grow over the perfectly formed kicks. The moog filter tames the brew with Steevio’s intuitive restraint , until he releases its mighty power upon the gleeful forest dwellers, to their rapturous gratitude.

With ‘Adref’ we return home. The sedate tempo provides oceanic space for a melody which inhales and exhales over a familiar landscape of perfectly tuned percussion. With each breath the melody seems to increase its reach, until it’s buried deep within our bones, its memory resonating on long after it’s gone.

Steevio’s music reflects the universal moments where seemingly chaotic and disparate elements are suddenly revealed to be perfectly harmonious. Of course examples of this are always universally present in nature, and have been eternally, but we have to be reminded to appreciate them. In the same way that a wave deposits a perfect line of shells on a beach, dew freezes on grass, or individual strands of mycelial hyphae bind together to form incredible patterns, Steevio’s music is likewise; effortlessly considered. For us, it has more in common with the unrelenting flow of a river than it does with dance music. It is psychedelic music in the same sense that nature is intuitively psychedelic; without ever leaning into any tried tropes of what is culturally considered ‘psychedelic’ music.

There are artists we occasionally happen across, even 14 years into our FatKidOnFire journey, where we know we need to work with them. There is material from said artists which sets our world on fire, and then there’s the four tunes that make up our first physical record in over two years. This one’s a long time coming, and also marks one of the first instances in FKOF Records where we welcome an artist to the family with a straight-to-record release. When you hear it, you’ll understand why. This is the long overdue FKOFv009…

Over the last decade and a half, the 140 landscape has been through its peaks and troughs. Tastes and styles change, but the one constant is when we find the right beats, bass and space we know we’re onto a winner. The international TRAKA collective caught our eyes and ears early on in their project – for all the right reasons. We’re delighted to welcome them to FKOF Records with a long-overdue record, as well as welcoming long time FKOF fam Oddkut back into the fold.



“The ninth outing on FKOF Records’ physical imprint opens with the anthemic voice of Rider Shafique joining forces with TRAKA for ‘Soo’. Hard-hitting truths, juddering percussion and a rolling low end so solid you can almost chew on it. Keep fighting and rise.

“Next up, we ratchet things up a notch with ‘Shock Em Up’. It’s an absolute unit of a tune, and when we get asked for what we mean by beats, bass and space this is our 2024 example. Effective heavyweight sonic warfare.

“FKOF009’s B-side opens with ‘Silus' – continuing along the foundations TRAKA laid on the A-side. Suffocating power, engaging atmospherics and a vibe that works at peak time on the dancefloor as well as it does opening or closing out the graveyard slot.

“We close out the record welcoming Oddkut back for his latest outing on FKOF Records with the TRAKA collab ‘Shake Junt’. It twists and turns through its first drop, before taking a completely new direction in the break. It’s an absolute groove and one that’s been a firm favourite for as long as it’s been in the bag.”

After so long it becomes harder to say new things about older things you now just do. Some things you've become. Some things you simply (never simply) are. The thing becomes a slippery notion. The self slides along with it. After this long, the story is whatever are the songs. A Self-portrait at two decades. Here are 11 new ones, from the current constellation, and a future still to come. The cement is still wet on that one. From the forest near where I now live you can hear a chorus of different birds in voice at once, competing but each defined, in defence of a territory or to attract a mate. There's an app that tells you so. I wonder, too, what that app doesn't reveal, if their nature need not share those same purposes. This is simply (never simply) how it exists. If we can't speak to the mysteries of these strategies, they at least persist, regardless of who picks up the frequency. Singing to itself, and there will always be these kinds of songs. 1. Ulrika Spacek - 'Interesting Corners' 2. Empty Country - 'D3SP4IR' 3. The Reds, Pinks & Purples - 'New Market Space (Down the Stairs Ver.) 4. Cindy - 'The Thousand First' 5. April Magazine - 'U Bop' 6. Index For Working Musik - 'Going to Heaven On the End of A String' 7. Midding - 'Do As You Would' 8. Luft - 'My Third Eye' 9. Hospital - '25 Jade Place' 10. William Doyle - 'The Sun Ain't Doing It For Me Lately' 11. Daily Toll - 'Begin Again'

‘Cataclysm’ is a poignant call for revolution of both politics and consciousness, conveyed through ten distinct songs written and produced by Zanias between 2020 and 2024. Each piece of music inhabits its own aesthetic universe and rhythm, featuring elemental fusions of coldwave, italo disco, witchhouse, trance, breakbeats, hyperpop and even a touch of drum and bass. The unique amalgamation is best described as post-industrial ethereal wave, of Zanias’s very own signature. The subject matter grapples with how to move forward through times when civilisation and the entire ecosystem of the planet feel like they are on the brink of total collapse, while gazing back over hundreds of thousands of years of human survival in total awe of how far we’ve come. The lyrics aim for a balance of vulnerability and poetic strength, as the audience is beckoned to “thread the power through the pain”. While darker atmospheres are conjured through the sound design and instrumentation, the album ultimately directs itself steadfast toward the glittering sheen of hope. As the tempo ascends through the course of the album’s tracklist, so too does Zanias’s deep attachment to our sacred humanity and refusal to give in to despair.

‘Cataclysm’ represents an ambitious defiance of genre tropes in pursuit of pure artistry, with a potent political message delivered with assertive fervour and playful sincerity. Additional production was contributed by mixing engineer Trey Frye, best known for his work in the band Korine, and the album was mastered by Alain Paul.

Unchained is the long-standing guitar-based project of Nate Davis, originally from Providence, RI, and based in France for over a decade. In his two most recent LPs—Gabbeh (2024, A Colourful Storm) and Frontalier (2025, Stern Records)—Davis strives to describe a new path for outsider jazz instrumentalism that remains committed to harmonic and rhythmic form while placing greater emphasis on sonic texture through experimental production techniques.

Release Description:

Unchained—a name which at the project's inception or on earlier recordings spoke perhaps to the ecstatic saturation of high gain guitar—has over the past three albums (N.D. Visitor, Pic, and Gabbeh) come to represent more and more an acknowledgement of and sensitive remove from a crashing world. An excuse of oneself from trend towards a siloed artistic development.

On Frontalier, Nate Davis crosses further into this patient personal lexicon of guitar composition, presenting a new set of richly developed songs and leaps in arrangement which may very well shock Unchained fans the world over. The sympathetic geometric guitar themes of the earlier second-period Unchained style are almost entirely absent, making way for a fully realized presentation of the jazz, MPB, and fusion influence present to varying degrees on the previous three albums. Davis's keen sense of melody and songcraft have never been stronger, here landing on music which is at moments evocative of Wes Montgomery, Allan Holdsworth, Jobim, or the jazzier impulses of Lô Borges. Distinct in Davis's music, however, is what these references might belie: an innate tending towards repetition as an affective tool—one which has less to do with the aesthetics of the scene from which the project emerged than it does with devotional prayer. In this way it feels as if Unchained has always been music for living. What was once a maximalist expression of youth has matured into the sound of living with and in the world and an empathic transmuting of all the joy, disappointment, and ambivalence that comes with it. Songs that feel like the sort of thinking one does looking out the window on a long train ride, or the routinism of internal and external life and the breaking out of it. As much as it will be recognized by the fandom as a significant step forward, Frontalier serves also as a perfect gateway for new listeners to the singular music of Unchained.

NYC electronic music collective P.E. return with their third and final album Oh!, due October 3 on Wharf Cat Records. Oh! Is the sound of a startled exclamation punctuating an exit, and the embodiment of the music within: fun and fluorescent, fluid and flirty, dirty and a little dangerous. From their conception in 2017 through the NOPE Tape series, P.E. existed as an experiment in co-conspirited collaboration. Oh! continues to cast a wide net, featuring an expanded lineup from their original formation, including Eleanor Friedberger of The Fiery Furnaces on the lead single "Color Coordinator". The resulting music ranges wide as ever, from the jubilant grooves of the title track and "Color Coordinator" to "The Fiction Writer" - a tender duet between Veronica Torres and Jonny Campolo - through the city pop sounds of "(Do You Like) So So?" and "Purple On Time", and into the abstracted beyond. This isn't a goodbye, but a "see you around". A tear falls down the cheek of a stranger, dancing as they catch your smile in the reflection of a glass building. Ceremoniously, serendipitously, they sidewalk surf away, stepping on something sharp - "Oh!" - leaving a teardrop on the city pavement. Following the last P.E. show, Jonny Campolo fully embraced his persona of The Grayscale Clown. You can hear him crooning in pets (along with Nick Campolo and Chase Ceglie) and droning in Microfibers (featuring Keegan & Eugene of Decor). His brother Nick Campolo successfully uploaded his consciousness to the cloud. He & his simulacrum perform in the aforementioned pets and solo as Nick Nun Ca. Ben Jaffe was in a freak nuclear waste accident when his DNA merged with a puma - he is now known as The Puma Man. You can catch him prowling around NYC with Sleaze Generator and as a sax beast for hire. Bob Jones went on a silent meditation and forgot how to speak. He now quietly releases music under the name R.A. Jones (as on his recently released Whispered to A Child), and as Scythe with David West (on A Colourful Storm). Jonathan Schenke disappeared for six months without a trace; when he returned he had developed a nervous tic anytime he heard a 909 rimshot or a saxophone. His recent solo album Passages (on No Gold) features neither of the above, nor does his project Gift Horse with Matthew Hord. Veronica Torres headed west to pursue her studies, developing a ceramic polymer whose beauty has caused madness in certain individuals. Her band Cha Cha 9 is a darling of the Minneapolis scene. P.E. would like to say thank you from the bottom of our hearts to everyone who listened to our records and danced at our shows - your love is felt. Thank you so much to Wharf Cat Records for all of the support over the years. Thank you to the fans. Thank you Pill and Eaters. Mitwirkende

Manteca’s 2014 album, first time on vinyl. Manteca, the London Latin jazz/salsa funk combo, are back with a first-time vinyl release of their brilliant digital album “Oye” from 2014. “Oye” is a collection of heavy-duty Latin music that reaches well beyond the standard salsa or Cuban dance-band style, appealing to anyone and everyone, from mambo dancers to B-boys, jazz brothers to soul sisters! Led by Colombian singer Martha Acosta and bassist Javier Fioramonti, who have played with everyone from Roberto Pla and Candela, to Alex Wilson’s groups and Salsa Celtica, as well as backing Latin legends such as Joe Bataan, Jack Costanzo, Henry Fiol and Azuquita, this band really cooks! “Que Pasa” is smoking Latin funk, this will get your head nodding and foot tapping for sure.“Oye”, a lovely mid-tempo Afrobeat/Latin jazz fusion number with punching brass and super-funky kit playing. There are three cover versions on the album: Horace Silver’s “The Jody Grind”, a 1960s Blue Note Records soul jazz classic. Manteca does it justice, taking the original and turning it into a heavy Mongo Santamaria style funky Latin soul belter. Sergio Mendes’s “Groovy Samba” is also given the 1960s Mongo “Watermelon Man” style Latin soul jazz treatment. Very hip arrangement, and some fantastic brass soloing in there too. The last one is a brave choice. It’s the timeless bolero standard “Como Fue”, which the band plays beautifully. “Para Pello” (“For Pello”), a conga-style big percussive beat that evolved from Afro-Cuban street carnivals. Secondly, “Bomba Chevere”, a blend of Puerto Rican bomba and Colombian cumbia. The big Afro-Cuban track of the album is “Descarga China”, which has two different mixes. One is a descarga funk mix with some heavyweight kit playing and smoking trumpet soloing, while the other is a more straight-ahead Latin jam with Javier’s upright bass playing underpinning the whole number in a very Cachao way. Big shouts to the whole band, which features some of the best musicians from the London Latin music scene of the last three decades. These cats are as good as you’ll get in Latin music from anywhere across the world.This London Latin music gem has been crying out for a vinyl release for over a decade. At last, it's here. Slap it on the turntable, drop the needle on track one, turn the volume up, press play and be ready to dance. Standing still is NOT an option! DJ Lubi (One Jazz / Totally Wired Radio)

Volpe is the finely tuned trio led by Ghent-based pianist Heleen Andriessen. Drummer Stijn Demuynck and bassist Kobe Boon support Andriessen's lyrical melodies with an infectious groove. The carefully crafted compositions alternate between energetic and melancholic, allowing the listener to feel immersed in a warm bath while transporting them to an uncanny world.

'elders' (Dutch for "elsewhere"), doesn't refer to a physical place but to a refuge in Heleen's mind-a sanctuary where she searches for beauty on gray, rainy November days. A simple detail taken from everyday life can serve as a gateway to this hopeful, imaginative world. Musically, this translates to repetitive patterns that gradually evolve or suddenly burst open. Subtle dissonance is welcome here, with the band lovingly embracing the slight disruption it offers. Heleen's playful runs and Stijn Demuynck's grooves balance the melancholic undertones. Seemingly simple melodies tell stories and offer familiarity to listening ears.

keywords: piano trio, contemporary jazz, keith jarrett, modal jazz, minimalist

Sarathy Korwar, genre-breaking drummer, producer and composer, announces the release of his seventh album "There Is Beauty, There Already" out on Otherland. Celebrating the melodic power of the drum ensemble, the album follows his 2022 Indofuturist manifesto "KALAK" with a deeply immersive longform suite of percussion-led compositions.

There’s a freedom in knowing we are all doomed, a sense of liberation from society’s morals and the considerations of commerce. That’s the territory trod by Sorrow on its lone album, 1992’s Hatred and Disgust. This album doesn’t bring you down, it takes you down. Down-tuned guitars, slowed- down tempos. Lyrics with a deservedly dim view of mankind. And fat as f*** riffs that will annihilate you. Finally released in the U.S. on vinyl and with the full support of the band, Hatred and Disgust comes in a blue smoke pressing limited to 1000 copies, complete with a lyric insert. If you like your doom metal with a side of thrash and death metal, this lost classic (remastered for vinyl by Mike Milchner) will satisfy like few others. Fans of Slayer, Obituary, My Dying Bride…take note.

"The Archer" is the second studio album by American musician Alexandra Savior. It was released on January 10, 2020 through 30th Century Records. "The Archer" was produced by Sam Cohen, often known as a fan of collaboration. On working with Savior, Cohen says, "It's really a joy to work with someone who's got such a strong sense of melody and also such a strong sense of what she wants stylistically." Savior's debut record, "Belladonna of Sadness", was written in collaboration with Alex Turner of Arctic Monkeys and NME says, "Savior continues to build on that bold arrival and is becoming a star in her own right." "The Archer" shows that not only does her voice stand alone, but that her musicality stands alone, too.

Dutch artist Sander van der Toorn returns to Kit Records, following his much-loved work with analogue-decayed folk duo Love is Yes, in 2024. While Sander's signature haze of tape-smeared synthesis and motorik guitar is ever present, "kom-kom" represents a departure from the elysian warmth of Love's debut.

The industrial throb of tracks like 'FIVE' and 'Rainhum' bear the deconstructed hallmarks of krautrock pioneers Neu!, and even the dystopic glow of artists like Plastikman or Pole. When kom-kom's harmonic ambitions resurface, such as on the synapse-aching 'Dwarsdoor', or the glassy structures of 'Hazenhart', the effect is startling.

van der Toorn cites the inspiration of Morton Feldman and Sarah Davachi when describing his work less as a linear listening experience, more a collection of sculptures that can be viewed from different angles. In this way, kom-kom doesn't have to move forward; the encounter can be one of stillness, of static objects given movement by the beholder's shifting perspective.

Sounds like: John Fahey being stretched into infinitely long pieces of spaghetti.
Recommended if you like: intercontinental rail travel, Mark Fisher, a nice malbec.

Limited edition of 100 cassettes, with risograph printed artwork.

Smith & Liddle are two young artists from the North of the United Kingdom who have never been to the desert and whose mere existence was a long way off the horizon in the 1970s, yet their music wouldn't be out of place on the FM waves in a Cadillac driving through the California desert at that time.

"Songs For The Desert" is Smith & Liddle's debut album, a collection of great songwriting, beautiful harmonies and wonderful musicianship that also offers an unashamedly a large dose of nostalgia harking back to some of the best eras there ever was.

These songs were created during one of their hometowns rainiest year, offering the duo an escape via their creations, dreaming of being transported to California at a time when the music scene there drifted from legendary stars of Laurel Canyon to the soft rock icons of Fleetwood Mac and The Doobie Brothers.

Elizabeth Liddle & Billy Smith grew up 25 miles away from each other in small towns but only met when Billy was on the lookout for a vocalist years later. The chemistry between the pair was instant, and over time their intertwined musical sensibilities evolved into something unique.

Following years of swapping records and building a transcendent musical connection, Smith & Liddle worked alongside producer Josh Ingledew to record 9 songs that blend Soft Rock, West Coast soul & 60s beats to produce their debut album "Songs For The Desert".

"Love it! Electronic wonkiness at its finest" - Richard Norris (The Grid)

TEA, CAKES AND THE (WO)MAN MACHINE

Curtain Twitcher could only have emerged from Sheffield.
A female electronic duo whose corrupted downtempo post Balearic chug pulses and wobbles, throbs and twitches - full of fat noises and bolshy Moogery.
It's human and appealingly analogue. More Delia Derbyshire's Radiophonic Workshop than DAF, More Tangerine Dream than Depeche Mode. Not your average bloketronica.

Frankly this music doesn't behave itself in any way you might expect. Plugged in post rave pop can be far too orderly. Music should be messy. Even on occasion revealing a tune your mum could hum.

"Leap The Dips" emerged from machine jamming with a creative freedom that only comes from friendship. That friendship is a musical one but it's also real and genuine: "We’ll talk about pretty much owt if you provide the tea and cakes".

In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression.

A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.

Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.

Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.

Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter.

The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration.

Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be.

An electrified meeting of minds, Candy Girl is a lost 1975 session by jazz pianist Mal Waldron, recorded in Paris with core members of the mighty Lafayette Afro Rock Band, the American funk unit who had made France their home and whose deep grooves would later be mined by generations of hip-hop producers.

By 1975, Waldron was a decade into his self-imposed exile from the United States—a transformed musician who had reassembled his sound in Europe and Japan after a devastating breakdown in the early '60s. His post-1969 output had stripped jazz down to its core elements: modal intensity, locked grooves, and hypnotic repetition. Candy Girl doesn’t interrupt this trajectory—it extends it, wrapping Waldron’s minimalist mantras around the funked-up chassis of the Lafayette rhythm section.

Originally released in microscopic quantities on the Calumet label and long shrouded in obscurity, Candy Girl was recorded spontaneously in the studio of French producer Pierre Jaubert, whose Paris HQ had become the workshop for both avant-garde jazz (Archie Shepp, Art Ensemble of Chicago, Steve Lacy) and psychedelic funk (Lafayette Afro Rock Band AKA Ice). This session finds Waldron jamming freely with bassist Lafayette Hudson, drummer Donny Donable, and keyboardist Frank Abel on clavinet, Moog and more—laying down raw, unfiltered instrumental funk with an experimental edge.

Highlights include the low-slung vamp of “Home Again”, the crisp, break-laden groove of “Red Match Box”, and the mesmeric swirl of the title track “Candy Girl” —a minor-key electric piano waltz with hints of cosmic soul. There's even a deep cut for the crate diggers: the somber yet meditative “Dedication to Brahms”, where Waldron deconstructs the Romantic composer’s third symphony into a sparse jazz reverie.

Unlike his polished sessions for Japanese labels or the avant-garde swing of his earlier Prestige work, Candy Girl feels more spontaneous, even accidental — and that’s part of its power. It’s a document of Waldron as bandleader, collaborator, and explorer, captured in the midst of a vibrant, cross-cultural scene in mid-70s Paris. Never officially issued with a cover and barely released at all, Candy Girl is a rare convergence of two underground traditions: Waldron’s Euro-exile electric jazz and the raw, sampled-future funk of the Lafayette Afro Rock Band. Now finally resurfaced, it deserves its rightful place in both stories.

Hailing from Raw Culture, Anna Funk Damage returns with his third release on the Roman label, delivering a record as fierce as it is intimate. Tarantola was born out of a winter suspended between contrasting emotions – melancholy, anger, love, confusion – distilled into a sound that transforms personal fragility into collective energy. There’s no pursuit of perfection here, but rather an urgency running through the veins, taking shape across supersonic punk, wave, ambient and industrial.

Each track is an emotional fragment, a bite that leaves its mark: from the electric tension of Vivere Distaccati to the feverish rush of Trasmissione, from the rawness of Decadente to the hypnotic title track Tarantola, which embodies the beating heart of the album. Side B unfolds into more nocturnal and intimate landscapes, from Chiang Mai to the disenchanted sincerity of Lavoro Troppo, closing with a party that carries the bittersweet taste of reality.

Tarantola is a journey into the chaos of human emotions, an album that doesn’t just narrate but pulls you deep into its sonic labyrinth, giving noise back its vulnerable yet powerful soul.

Arriving two years after the first chapter, Absurd Matter 2 isn’t just a sequel, it’s an evolution, redrawing the boundaries established by its acclaimed predecessor. The Berlin-based Italian producer tempers his confrontational sonics with rare moments of introspection, shifting seamlessly between blown-out noise, warped hip-hop, mutant club experimentation, and weightless ambience. Textures disintegrate and reassemble, rhythms flex and crumble, and every detail balances on the edge of fantasy. It’s a poetic, layered response to Nino Pedone’s changing physical reality: the gradual hearing loss and perceptual renegotiation triggered by Ménière’s disease, which struck him in 2022. At first, the experience felt like betrayal, a brutal disconnection from the very sense that had shaped his life. But over time, the disorientation turned into a strange kind of focus. The silence between sounds became as expressive as the sounds themselves.
The first Absurd Matter was a visceral reaction to trauma; the second is more reflective – an ambiguous chronicle of sensory recalibration. Pedone doesn’t represent his altered inner reality through extremes, but through depth, zooming in on illusory distortions, tense rhythmic fluctuations, and fragmented sonics. Dense, immersive, and mystical, the album mirrors Pedone’s evolving relationship with perception itself.
Tinnitus-like feedback wails and noir-ish strings introduce “Repeater”, making it immediately clear that Pedone is painting a more delicately finessed image this time around. Fleshed out by raps from cult MCs billy woods and E L U C I D, the track is marked by subtle, sophisticated contrasts: the blurred, inverted rhythms that couch Armand Hammer’s haunted back-and-forth, and the glitchy interference that offsets the lavish orchestral phrases. Backwoodz associate Fatboi Sharif lends his Lynchian drawl to “Bandage Chipped Wings”, grounding Pedone’s lysergic rhythmic distortions with syrupy, horror-inspired couplets. Pedone also invites discomfort into “Crash Landing”, with droning, metallic tones that contradict South Central rapper ICECOLDBISHOP’s elastic flow. “Bitch, I don't give a fuck about anybody,” he squawks over Pedone’s incongruous rasping textures and time-warped beats, “cash out at any party.” Working alongside London’s Loraine James on production, Pedone reunites with Moor Mother on “I Saw The Light”, blending James’ soft-focus atmospherics with soundsystem-damaging, overdriven bass hits and rusted percussive snips. Moor Mother’s assertive words hover over the wreckage, tightening Pedone’s themes of overstimulation and altered awareness as they stutter and veer off course, vanishing into the backdrop.
Contrasting his more pensive experiments, Pedone’s dancefloor deviations are more concentrated on Absurd Matter 2 than ever before. He torches a stuttering dembow structure on “X”, obfuscating the rhythm’s familiar energy with disturbing audio hallucinations. On “Splintered”, he reunites with Kenyan prodigy Slikback, mangling neon-lit trance arpeggios with dissociated trap rhythms. He sharpens his skills to a fine point on “Oblivion Step”, observing 2- step through a lens of distortion and personal abstraction, shaking blipping synth leads over neck-snapping drums and counteracting the momentum with airless sci-fi soundscapes.
Perhaps the album’s most surprising moment arrives with “Viel”, which features vocals from Los Angeles-based composer Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith. Together, Pedone and Smith chance upon their notion of dub techno, fogging synth stabs and ghostly vocal traces into eerie harmonic distortions. On some level, it’s almost pop music, a far cry from the bleak dissonance of Absurd Matter and a hopeful way to reframe turbulence as transformation. Absurd Matter 2 doesn’t simply document a process; it enacts one. It doesn’t offer clarity; it invites disorientation. It’s not a map of the labyrinth, but a foghorn piercing the darkness.

The Dead 60s seminal self-titled album gets a timely Deluxe edition reissue on Vinyl for its 20th Anniversary, on Deltasonic Records



“Back in the day, punk and dub weren’t just sharing space—they were smashing into each other headfirst. Late '70s Britain was a pressure cooker, and for kids like me, growing up between Brixton’s bass bins and the chaos of King’s Road, that collision was everything. Jamaican sound system culture met punk’s raw spirit in a haze of smoke, sweat, and feedback. It wasn’t about genre—it was about energy. Identity. Defiance. so when The Dead 60s came along, post-Britpop and post-bullshit, it felt like someone had dusted off the blueprint and run it through a battered old tape echo. These weren’t just lads with good taste—they understood the assignment. They took the DNA of two rebel cultures and mutated it into something that could stand tall in the 21st century. Dub-soaked, punk-fuelled, dripping with that Liverpool attitude. I remember first hearing them and thinking—yeah, here we go again. Not in a retro way, but in a real way. Guitars that cut like sirens in the night. Basslines fat and warm, straight out the Channel One playbook. Lyrics that painted the grey corners of Britain like CCTV poetry. It was the sound of youth under pressure. The sound of not fitting in—and not wanting to.

Their debut album dropped in 2005, and it hit like a flare in the dark. “Riot Radio” was a pirate broadcast from the concrete frontlines. “Control This” swaggered with menace and reverb. It was like someone opened a time capsule from the punky-reggae party and rewired it for a new generation.

Now, with this 20th anniversary vinyl reissue—complete with the full dub companion produced by Central Nervous System—we get to hear the bones and blood of it all. The dub versions pull the tracks apart and let the ghosts speak. Reverb, delay, space—it’s not just production, it’s meditation. Revolution slowed down to a heartbeat. It’s music that makes you move and think. What they’ve done here is more than remix a record—they’ve revealed its soul. That’s what dub does when it’s done right. And The Dead 60s, they got that. They weren’t tourists in the culture—they were students of it, shaped by it, and ultimately, contributors to the legacy. Liverpool’s long had a love affair with Jamaican music—you can hear it in the streets if you’re really listening. The Dead 60s tapped into that lineage, but they brought their own thing to the table. Punk's fire. Dub’s depth. Ska’s bounce. All filtered through a Northern lens and blasted out like protest graffiti. This 20th anniversary reissue ain’t about nostalgia. It’s a reminder. A celebration. A call to arms. Music like this doesn’t belong in a museum—it belongs on a system, shaking walls and waking minds. Crate diggers, completists, young punks, old heads—this one's for all of you.

So put it on and turn it up. Let the punk edge sharpen your thoughts, and the dub shake your bones ‘cos this isn’t just a reissue - it’s resistance on wax.....”