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Over the course of nearly a decade making music, Alicia Jeanine and Jed Smith have charted a distinctive course through the history of pop, evoking influences as varied as the 60s folk of early Fairport Convention and Vashti Bunyan, the sunshine pop of Margo Guryan and Laura Nyro, and indiepop touchstones like Dear Nora, Marine Girls and Dolly Mixture. The new album finds Jeanines grappling with themes of personal upheaval and self-excavation, adding weight to their finest set of songs yet. With Alicia's lyrics incisively interrogating connections, ruptures, and time and its reverberations, songs like "Coaxed a Storm," "What's Done Is Done," and "On and On" combine rich melody with co-composer Jed's crisp arrangements (along with contributions from longtime live show bassist Maggie Gaster) to stellar effect. Where How Long Can It Last really shines is, as always, in the songs. While the themes are sometimes heavy, the melodies and harmonies are simply heavenly, elevating these economical songs to give each the feeling of a lost classic. From the first notes of opener "To Fail" to jaunty closer "Wrong Direction," this album announces itself as the work of a band in full command of their art (and craft).

Black Moon Circle return with A Million Leagues Beyond - a powerful new album recorded live at Trondheim"s intimate and legendary Moskus club. Since 2014, the Norwegian trio has built a devoted following with their heavy blend of space rock, psychedelia, and raw jamming energy, earning acclaim for both studio albums and immersive live performances. Moskus is a small bar located in Trondheim that hosts about 70 concerts every year, showcasing genres as diverse as jazz, country, Americana, rock, progressive jazz and occasionally psychedelic hard rock. With a capacity of around 80, the audience faces the stage which barely has room for drums and a couple of amplifiers. Feeding off the intimate atmosphere, Black Moon Circle have done what they do best, conjuring up heavily improvised jams out of thin air.

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.

From the frayed loop of San Diego's white belt `90s scene, Boilermaker provided a subtle counterpoint to the Gravityobsessed post-hardcore landscape. They called it Leucadia-core, a hybrid of major chord riffs, emotive yelps, angular bass chug, and pounding rhythms, building and releasing with the Swami tides. NotEnough Time To Get Anything Halfway Done compiles the trio of Terrin Durfey, Tim Semple, and Richard Sanderson complete discography_three albums, singles, and rarities_into a 41-song/ 4xLP box set, with annotation and illustration in the accompanying 24-page book. Surfs down. Hang zero.

From the frayed loop of San Diego's white belt `90s scene, Boilermaker provided a subtle counterpoint to the Gravityobsessed post-hardcore landscape. They called it Leucadia-core, a hybrid of major chord riffs, emotive yelps, angular bass chug, and pounding rhythms, building and releasing with the Swami tides. NotEnough Time To Get Anything Halfway Done compiles the trio of Terrin Durfey, Tim Semple, and Richard Sanderson complete discography_three albums, singles, and rarities_into a 41-song/ 4xLP box set, with annotation and illustration in the accompanying 24-page book. Surfs down. Hang zero.

The first vinyl release by the Melbourne Soul / Funk trailblazers The Bamboos in over a year since their 'This Is How You Do It' album and UK / EU tour (which included two sold out nights at London's iconic Jazz Café) is something that guitarist / bandleader Lance Ferguson has wanted to do for many years: a Christmas EP!

This limited edition 7" comes in custom printed knitted Christmas sleeve that will rival even the most garish seasonal woollen jumper.

A side "Wrapt In A Beau" is classic Sweet Soul Bamboos style, recalling fan favourites such as "I Don't Wanna Stop" and "Golden Ticket", with a perfect vocal by The Antipodean Queen Of Soul, Kylie Auldist.

On the flip is the string drenched Funk instrumental "The Bells Of Holly Hill", which kicks off with a crisp breakbeat plus sleigh bells intro.

Paid promo service to Soul / Funk DJs w/wide for radio, club and online incl presenters on key radio stations such as BBC6, FIP France, KCRW.

LANCE FERGUSON "I'm never going to make an Xmas track without putting some sleigh bells in the mix, and you should see some of my yuletide knitwear...but for everyone who celebrates Christmas in the Southern Hemisphere it's something that falls right in the middle of Summer, flying in the face of much of that iconic festive imagery.

With these songs we thought we'd lean into some of those unique things that make a sun-drenched, snow-less festive season special."

Previous Bamboos seven inch pressings sold out straight away, so don't sleep on this.

"As I'm getting older, chip up on my shoulder..." is the opening line from Mac DeMarco's second full-length LP `Salad Days,' the follow up to 2012's lauded `Mac DeMarco 2.' Amongst that familiar croon and lilting guitar, that initial line from the title track sets the tone for an LP of a maturing singer/songwriter/producer. Someone strangely self-aware of the positives and negatives of their current situation at the ripe old age of 23. Written and recorded around a relentless tour schedule (which picked up all over again as soon as the LP was done), `Salad Days' gives the listener a very personal insight into what it's all about to be Mac amidst the craziness of a rising career in a very public format. The lead single, "Passing Out Pieces," set to huge overdriven organ chords, contains lines like "...never been reluctant to share, passing out pieces of me..." Clearly, this isn't the same record that breezily gave us "Dreamin," and "Ode to Viceroy" but the result of what comes from their success. "Chamber of Reflection," a track featuring icy synth stabs and soulful crooning, wouldn't be out of place on a fantasy Shuggie Otis and Prince collaboration. Standout tracks like these show Mac's widening sound, whether insights into future directions or even just welcome one-off forays into new territory. Still, this is musically, lyrically and melodically good old Mac DeMarco, through and through. The same crisp John Lennon / Phil Spector era homegrown lush production that could have walked out of Geoff Emerick's mixing board in 1972, but with that peculiar Mac touch that's completely of right now. "Brother," a complete future classic, is Mac at his most soulful and easygoing but with that distinct weirdness and bite that can only come from Mr. DeMarco. "Treat Her Better" is rife with "Mac-isms," heavily chorused slinky lead guitar, swooning vocal melodies, effortless chords that come along only after years of effort, and the other elements seriously lacking in independent music: sentiment and heartfelt sincerity. We're only at Part 2 and 1/2 (one EP and two LP's in) into Mac's career. As you read this and as you hear the album on April Fool's Day of this year, he'll probably be on tour, or preparing for one... or maybe already writing new music. A relentless work ethic is something to be admired in today's indie music scene, but when it's of the quality Mac is giving us time and time again, it starts to turn from admiration to awe.

Screaming Females had such a clear goal for their new album that it became almost a mantra: they wanted songs that were concise, crisp and melodic. That's exactly what the New Jersey punk trio delivers on Rose Mountain, their sixth LP, released via on Don Giovanni Records. The album is a milestone in a number of ways. Not only does Rose Mountain reflect a new approach to the band's songwriting, the LP marks the first time Screaming Females have worked with an outside producer (Matt Bayles), and comes as the trio celebrates 10 years together. Limited Edition pressing on turquoise vinyl.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

Emerging producer Très Mortimer dishes out eight huge heaters on the highly-anticipated ‘M1 City’ release, a dedication to the mighty Korg M1, coming to Seth Troxler’s Slacker 85 on 25th October.

Kicking off ‘M1 City’ is the simplistic, but refined and booth-rattling ‘Work That Body’. A crisp M1 stab is the main character in this, amplified by thunderous and high energy drums.

Then there’s ‘Secrets’, a house jam inspired by the likes of MK that utilises TR-909 drums, a subtle rolling bassline, intimately whispered and soulfully sung vocal shots, and, of course, classic Korg M1 synth stabs. Together with dramatic contemporary builds, a highly danceable house smasher is formed.

‘No More’ is pure gasoline for the dancefloor. Très pairs another barrage of clean M1 stabs with a rousing vocal sample that leads into, with the help of a rolling snare, another highly effective house drop. Following the extremely saucy ‘Big Daddy’ skit, we’re dropped straight into ‘One Of Those Nights’, a show-stopping track complete with cutting, sharp stabs, a bulging bassy synth and a West Coast-esque synth sound.

‘Bitch I’m From Chicago’ feat. Gleebz is, as the title suggests, a dedication to the city where house music found its name. Batting off all the poser cities like LA and Miami in the sassy lyrics, it embodies the spirit of Chicago with hefty kick drums and weighty chord stabs.

At the tail end of the release, ‘Let Me Go’ and ‘Love’ (featuring vocalist 7000 (7K)), bring things to a rousing emotive close. Both tracks see Très put clean vocals over piano riffs, giving off differing moods – the former is euphoric, the latter melancholic. Synths bubble beneath, and each track funnels their own respective house grooves, resulting in two tracks fit for both the dancefloor and headphones.

Très Mortiner explains: “The M1 sound is classic. It automatically transports you back to those timeless house songs that never get old. For me, house music is all about connection. People experiencing a little moment of euphoria together when they hear a riff that they all know on the dance floor. That’s what it’s all about. With this project I wanted to tap into that 90s rave sound and spirit. I wanted it to sound like the OG Chicago rave scene.”

“M1 City is my first project to be released on vinyl. I think vinyl is very much alive. It’s essentially for music connoisseurs now. I don’t expect people to have a vinyl collection when all music is always available to everyone on their phones. Nevertheless, I love the idea of some random DJ finding this record in a shop in 10 years. Who knows what I’ll be producing then?”

Très Mortimer is a key figure in Chicago's house scene, steadily building a strong following with his no-nonsense, dancefloor-driven sound. Drawing inspiration from his Polish roots, Trés has signed with major labels like Mad Decent, Insomniac’s IN/Rotation, and Ministry of Sound, while also launching his own imprint, Optics Records. He made his mark with a clever rework of Zombies' 1968 hit ‘Time Of The Season’ (1M+ streams). Standout releases include his downtempo collaboration with plumpy, "BAMBU," and his latest single, "At Night I Think Of You," which was recently given a remix makeover by Seth Troxler and Nick Morgan.

Slacker 85, launched in 2023, is the record label behind ‘M1 City’. Founded by Seth Troxler, it aims to give a platform to "oddball, esoteric and diverse sounds," positioning itself as a counter to the polished, refined dance artists dominating the scene. Troxler, upon the label’s launch, declared that he wanted to create something for "the anti-hero, the kids who could have done it but didn’t care to try”—essentially, "the slacker." So far, it’s delivered a range of releases from artists like Jackmaster, Danny Daze, Dan McKie, and Andre Salmon, offering tracks rooted in house music's past but evolving within its present boundaries.

‘M1 City’, this ode to a piece of gear that consistently finds itself at the heart of house music history, highlights Très Mortimer’s respect for and knowledge of the scene and its key gear. Trè combines this admiration and inspiration of house music’s greats with a modern sensibility, resulting in eight tracks worthy of today’s dancefloors and today’s ravers.

Emerging Greek artist ANNE is back with her latest EP, Chicago 1980, a four-track techno record to be released on CROWD, the forward-thinking Berlin-based label by FJAAK. Known for her deeply-rooted influences from Detroit and 90s-00s techno, ANNE delivers a masterclass in driving, hypnotic beats and emotional depth with this new release. The Chicago 1980 EP features the title track, a pulsating homage to the raw energy of the Chicago scene, blending crisp percussion with hypnotic grooves and dreamy chords, reminiscent of Robert Hood's classics. 'Propeller' keeps the intensity, pushing boundaries with its high-energy rhythms, industrial sounds and relentless bassline. 'Storyteller' pulls listeners into deeper territory, combining intricate layers of sound with a mesmerizing build and dystopian dissonant glimpses. 'Red Bones' rounds up the EP, delivering a dark, atmospheric finish, showcasing ANNE's talent for balancing groovy rhythms with a heavy, dancefloor-ready sound. To celebrate the fifth release of the label, ANNE will be performing together with label heads FJAAK at Rotterdam's Perron on October 4th, bringing her signature energy to the dancefloor in what promises to be a night to remember. Don't miss out on this electrifying release from ANNE on CROWD!

First Word Records are very proud to present a brand new album from Kaidi Tatham!

'An Insight To All Minds' is Kaidi's 3rd solo album under his own name, following several EPs and two albums for First Word; 2018's acclaimed 'It's A World Before You' and the re-press of his seminal 2008 sophomore album 'In Search Of Hope' last year.

For those that don't know, Kaidi Tatham is a legendary multi-instrumentalist. Once dubbed "the UK's Herbie Hancock" by Benji B, he's a virtuoso on the keys and a true innovator in sound production as one of the original creators of the Broken Beat sound. Over the years his musical prowess has blessed numerous projects, initially with the likes of Bugz In The Attic and The Herbaliser, and more recently with DJ Jazzy Jeff (through the PLAYlist projects), Andrew Ashong (on the acclaimed 'Sankofa Season' EP last year) and with longtime accomplice, Dego. This in addition to session work for artists such as Mulatu Astatke, Slum Village, Amy Winehouse, Soul II Soul and Leroy Burgess, along with First Word label mates such as Eric Lau, Children of Zeus and Darkhouse Family. Kaidi is also a revered DJ known for rocking parties globally, whilst his solo catalogue spans tons of EPs and releases for labels such as 2000 Black, Eglo and Theo Parrish's Sound Signature.

On 'An Insight To All Minds', Kaidi says it's "not about a destination, but a process. It's about how you drive, not where you're going. Nothing in this world can torment you as much as your own thoughts… We are all going through it. We can all feel what the next person is feeling, believe it or not. It's learning how to tap into it".

The album is comprised of an assortment of Kaidi's unique flavours - uptempo jazz-funk bruk, laced with rhodes, flutes, live bass and delicious percussion. Using that blueprint he moves effortlessly through latin and samba, half-step, deep afro house and a sprinkle of curveballs, all presented in Kaidi's inimitable way.

'Intergalactic Relations' brings with it some 110bpm synthed-out spacey electro-breaks, 'Could It Be' sets off sounding like a Morricone film score, whilst 'Rodney' is some serious heads-down business; stark and punchy off-kilter broken beat and vocal stabs. There are a few guests too - 'Chungo' sees the return of Uhmeer (who previously appeared on 'Cupid' on the album 'It's A World Before You'); here the young Philly MC deftly rides a 9/4 time signature beat. Meanwhile 'Stro Kyat' invites in another supreme talent, Stro Elliot (The Roots), who provides a suitably crisp & crunchy riddim to accompany Kaidi's key play over a mind-bending 5/4 time signature.

With this new album, Kaidi Tatham adds further to his already impressive catalogue, a body of work that falls within the cracks of jazz and dance music, exemplifying modern British black brilliance once again; uncompromising, innovative, groundbreaking, intricately sophisticated and deeply funky. His fanbase expands on every release and it's no surprise that that fanbase includes peers such as Madlib ("ahead of his time"), Gilles Peterson ("a key part of an entire movement"), K15 ("a limitless source of inspiration"), Alexander Nut ("a true virtuoso") and Kyle Hall.

Riding a wave of critical praise and positive feedback for his most recent Emperor Machine album, the fabulous Island Boogie, Andrew Meecham returns with a typically wild and dancefloor-focused set of dubs, ‘versions’ and remixes.

According to Meecham, Island Boogie is his most personal set to date – a full-length excursion that not only delivers perfectly formed expressions of his dub-tinged, off-kilter synth-boogie sound, but also tracks that draw deeply on his earliest influences and long-held musical expressions.

It’s fitting, then, that this remix EP begins with his own sparse, stripped-back ‘version’ rework of ‘S-S-S-Single Bed’, a fine cover of the mid-80s Fox single featuring the vocals of Michelle Bee. Meecham’s dub-wise revision is a skeletal and driving affair, with snippets of echoing guitar, colourful synths and Bee’s distinctive vocalisations rising above a weighty dub disco bassline and rock-solid percussion.

It's followed by two revisions of album favourite ‘Wanna Pop With You’ from A Love From Outer Space main man Sean Johnston under his now familiar Hardway Brothers alias. Combining his own love of raw, analogue-sounding electronics and trippy dancefloor psychedelia with select elements of Meecham’s original – percussion, synth sounds, crisp guitar licks and elements of Severine Mouletin’s lead vocals, Johnston’s main ‘remix’ is a weighty, mid-tempo treat. Arguably even better is his accompanying dub, which is more groove-and-effects focused and makes more of Beecham’s superb original bassline. It’s heavy, spaced-out and undeniably intoxicating.

To round off the package, long-time friend of the label (and sometime contributor) Rose Robinson dons her Tigerbalm pseudonym and gets to work on ‘La Cassette’. Brilliantly cutting up Severine Mouletin’s vocals, she delivers a driving slab of spaced-out, synth-heavy dub disco that adds more weight and energy to Meecham’s original. It’s a fittingly on-point way to close out a superb selection of club-ready revisions.

Dutch artist LEYO delivers his debut album via Cécille Records this September, comprised of eight originals and featuring collabs with Toman and Thierry Ganz.

LEYO is a project based out of Amersfoort in the Netherlands, marking its beginnings here with an LP composed utilising a
full band set up, vocals from Thierry Ganz and a singular collaborative appearance from fellow Dutch artist, Toman. The debut album showcases LEYO’s depth of influences, straddling the lines throughout between soulful electro-pop and funkinfused disco jams through to more raw house and sun drenched lounge cuts.
Opener ‘Hello (Intro)’ sets the tone with bumpy drums, psychedelic guitar tones and a dreamy phone call voice before
‘Don’t Do It’ picks up the pace, blending funky guitar lick, organic percussion and resonant synth leads with sporadic vocal
chants. Thierry Ganz first appearance on the album follows with ‘Know Your Name’, merging together Ganz hypnotic vocal
stylings with choppy bass stabs, cinematic strings and crisp disco drums. ‘Open Up The Trunk Do It’ then shifts gears into
jazz-tinged raw house territory via twinkling keys, saturated drums and a vacillating low-end drive.

Up next LEYO welcomes both Toman and Thierry Ganz into the mix for ‘That Booty’, a high octane disco house jam fuelled
by swinging drums, soulful vocals and tension building atmospherics. ‘That’s Why’ then brings down the pace to a more
dreamy aesthetic with fluttering keys and wandering synths intertwined with congas and breathy vocals. The final full
length track ‘Without You’ then lays down a shuffled rhythm section and plucked guitar lines with hypnotic chords and
filtered vocals throughout its six and a half minute duration before ‘On My Mind ft. Thierry Ganz (Outro)’ concludes the
package in a fully- fledged funk fashion, Ganz lays down his signature vocal style uttering the tracks title while underpinned
by wandering bass notes, bouncy drums, wandering guitar notes and Moog style synth licks.

Coming out on September 6th on Sharptone Records, Sundiver is Boston Manor’s fifth album and one that represents a glimmering dawn for the Blackpool five-piece. Grown from a seedbed of optimism and sobriety, the LP celebrates new beginnings, second chances and rebirth. With two members recently stepping into fatherhood, hope is baked into every note. “Datura came out of these really dark few years over the hangover of the pandemic,” Henry reflects. “I'd been struggling a lot with drinking and not taking care of myself and bad mental health and stuff. We wanted Sundiver to be the next morning of the following day.” He explains that it feels good this time round to write through the lens of positivity. “The themes began to emerge, of rebirth, spring, dawn, sunshine and then other elements just started to fit into that.” It was during the making of Sundiver that Henry found out he was going to be a dad. This album is a significant one for the band. Originally coming out of the emo and pop punk scene, they’ve explored sonics and genres throughout their career, taken risks and achieved more than they could ever had dreamed of. They’ve grown up as Boston Manor – their lives and the world changing around them. They’re now taking stock, at a crossroads of the band they were and the band they could be.
While writing the album, they revisited the bands that shaped them in the late 90s and early 00s. “I was listening to the music I loved when I was a teenager and I just thought, why don't we make music like our favourite bands?”, guitarist Mike Cuniff remembers with a smile. “So we brought our interests to the table that way. Y2K kind of vibe. There are elements of Deftones, there are elements of Portishead in there, some Garbage, The Cardigans.” He laughs and adds NSYNC to the list of inspirations. From this cocktail of classics comes a dynamic and ambitious record, rich with depth, groove and more hooks than Peter Pan’s nightmares. Lyrics that foxtrot from parallel universes to personal growth, vivid dreamscapes to raw grief. Individually they’re single strokes full of meaning and magic. Together they’re a landscape.
Container (out Feb 15th) is the first single and it’s them at their best – impassioned and infectious. “This song is about the stagnancy of life creeping up on you & how that can bring about change.,” Henry explains, citing Ocean Song by US band Daughters as an inspiration.

The concept of the butterfly effect is present on Sundiver – how small actions can lead to big changes. This is no clearer than on their second single, Sliding Doors (out April 5th). It has the golden sound of late 90s Lollapalooza rock – think Smashing Pumpkins - rebooted with crisp 2024 production and a potent heaviness. In the lyrics Henry wonders, what if?, pondering on what could be. The idea that there are infinite versions of you whose lives splinter off in different directions at every decision you make. That there’s another you out there somewhere right now reading this sentence, and another me writing it. “So much is down to chance and circumstance,” Henry says. “You might catch that train and your life totally changes. Or you might miss it and things stay the way they are.”
Heat Me Up (out May 30th) is defiant and victorious, the audio equivalent of quitting your shit job and driving into the hot summer sun with a head full of dreams. “The lyrics are about love and gratitude,” Henry shares. “Another theme on the record is just appreciating what you have. It’s about not taking for granted the things that you've been afforded.”
There was some natural magic in the creation of Sundiver. They worked with their usual producer, Larry Hibbitt, and engineer, Alex O’Donovan, but instead of recording in London again they ended up in the green pastures of Welwyn Garden City. “Because Larry lives out in the countryside now, it was a way different environment and way different experience recording this time,” Mike remembers. “That contributed a lot to the brighter sound of the record.” The daily barbecues they had during their recording sessions imbued the process with harmony – five old friends spending quality time together and making quality music.
However, the album is by no means one-note. Birthing this new world they’ve created wasn’t without it’s pain, and that can be heard in the heavier moments on Sundiver. What Is Taken Will Never Be Lost is the most-stripped back on the album, a slow rock number seasoned with the downtempo Portishead influence. The heartfelt lyrics are Henry’s way of processing the loss of his grandfather, who died in a hospice last year(?). “It was just fucking horrible. It was always cold when I went there and they were always trying to get rid of me. The song title, What Was Taken Can Ever Be Lost, is the idea of his memory fading at the time because of dementia.” Henry goes onto explain that shoeboxes of photographs, diaries and a legacy is what he’s left behind. “He lived a really rich life and it has really impacted me and my father. His legacy is etched into the fabric of history in a very small way.” This song continues the connection between his grandfather and the band, as his painted face is emblazoned on the cover of the very first Boston Manor EP, Driftwood. As well as emotionally heavy themes, there’s heaviness in the music of Sundiver too. The closing song, Oil In My Blood, descends into an intense shoegaze outro with Debbie Gough from Heriot screaming hellfire. It’s in moments like this that the band show us aggression and fury can be as much a part of positive change as quiet introspection. The last lyrics of the song, “It resets and starts again,” leaves us in contemplation as the final chord rings out.
Touring the US, Europe and Japan over the years makes for an impressive CV, but if you know anything about Boston Manor you’ll know that they’re all about their hometown. Their choice to work with Blackpool-based photographer Nick Barkworth is testament to that. They’ve been working with him since the pandemic. “He captures Blackpool in a light that really reflects the weirdness and quirkiness of the town,” Henry says.” He's got a really good way of presenting that.” For the Sundiver cover, Nick photographed a 30ft tall abstract glass sculpture made by the local artist John Ditchfield. A striking and bewitching monolith that’s familiar to them but unusual to most people. “It has such kind of a gravity and power to it,” Henry describes the sculpture which stands in a field just outside of the seaside town. “It reminds me of either an explosion or a star or a supernova. To me it represents new life, power and radiance.” Boston Manor have got a knack for that - connecting the otherworldly and the everyday, the stars and the streets.
They’re a band known for using their music to make bigger statements about society. This time round they’re harnessing the uplifting power of music, and the communion it creates, as an antidote to the daily doom and isolation. “It seems like absolute chaos out there at the moment,” Henry says. “You’ve got Gaza and Israel, you've got Russia, you've got the fact that 40% of the world is going to have an election this year and increasingly most governments are leaning very far to the Right. The internet is dividing everybody, people are getting poorer and more desperate. It's really, really scary.” They considered trying to tackle the weight of it all in their music. “We could’ve written Welcome to the Neighbourhood on steroids, where it's just absolute darkness and misery”. He’s referring to their 2018 concept album that deals with class, inequality and the bleaker side of Blackpool. “But I think it's really important to write something that people can be immersed in and find some sort of solace in. Somewhere they can escape to from the modern day pressures and everything that’s going on. We’re all in this together.”

The weather might never be hot in the UK but the 7th release from Regulate Recordings is an absolute scorcher! Coming hot on the heels of the “The Rhythm / Make Em Bounce” going to the top of the Juno charts and doing serious dance floor damage the North West imprint have gone even bigger for the next release with a daisy age inspired transatlantic cross over.
Manchester producer Atomphunk has teamed up with Seattle Duo Mugs and Pockets with turntablist extraordinaire DJ Deviant on the cuts. The results are without doubt the jams of the summer, which is handy because the A side is called “Summer Jam”. With a popping funk bass line and rhymes dancing over the top that immediately evoke the spirit of the Native Tongues, but added into the mix is that Grand Central / Fat City groove and the West Coast USA bounce of Jurassic 5 and their collaborators, (Chali2Na is a big supporter of Mugs & Pockets). In a packed field “Summer Jam” might just be Regulate’s biggest release yet.

Things don’t let up on the flip “Back For More” sees Atomphunk go for the hotter stickier side of the season, with a more laid back synth driven groove evoking Roy Ayers and Quincy Jones, but with crisp beats and Mugs and Pockets bringing it once more. Don’t sleep on this one.

Søren Skov Orbit's debut album, "Adrift," is at once subtle and profound. The saxophonist and his collaborators have created something quite special and consistently deep. This record may not easily be classifiable, but the most interesting music creeps between the lines

Danish tenor and soprano saxophonist Søren Skov (Debre Damo Dining Orchestra) and keyboardist Peder Vind co-founded the trippy quintet Søren Skov Orbit in 2016 to explore “more jazzy ideas,” as the saxophonist puts it. Joined by a rhythm section steeped in contemporary improvisation and psychedelia, bassist Casper Nyvang Rask, drummer Rune Lohse and percussionist Ayi Solomon of the legendary 80's Ghanaian roots/highlife band Classique Vibes, the Orbit belts out a richly focused helping of broadly African-inspired modern jazz with a hazy sheen.

On the opening “Notifications of Nothingness,” Skov digs in his heels, a steely but languid unspooling of burnished tenor lines atop condensed, quavering piano and the thick footfalls of bass and percussion. As a tenor player, Skov has done his homework and has a kinship with Albert Ayler, Archie Shepp, J.R. Monterose, and the Dutchman Hans Dulfer, but he clearly has got his own robust phraseology and expressiveness. He also cites multi-reedists John Gilmore, Yusef Lateef, and Bilal Abdurahman as, “some of the players I’ve been listening to the most for the last 10-15 years.”

A healthy dose of reverb is present throughout the album, echoing Alton Abraham’s studio wizardry with the Sun Ra Arkestra or the trance-inducing and compressed fidelity of certain Ethio-jazz and Mystic Revelations of Rastafari sessions. Skov notes that, “everything is recorded live at the same time in the same room. I wanted to do it that way in order to catch the dynamics and authenticity of the music.” There is, in fact, a complex teeter- totter between crisp and hazy execution, achieved by a delicately balanced mix that keeps the group’s sound simultaneously advancing and receding. Vind’s phrasing is terse and introspective, a vibrating echo that nudges and reflects on Skov’s brusque tenor in a dance of sonic displacement.

“Orbiting” pits a chunky backbeat and the teetering, taut hand-rhythms of Solomon against an infectious, almost microtonal piano riff, while Skov’s arpeggios are clean and florid as he patiently rises up from under a carpet of funky loops. Following the freer “Reflections of Rif,” “Naration” lilts with a wink at “Footprints” and tugs between up-tempo polyrhythmic drive, clanging keyboard accents, and the innately steadfast keenness of the bandleader. The coupling of Solomon and Lohse is a big part of the group’s detailed energy; as the leader puts it, “Ayi knows everything about regional differences in drum patterns. He is always listening and super responsive, and his and Rune’s dynamics are amazing.” The music both presents a “vibe” and keeps the door open for engaging well under the surface as repeated listens will be extremely rewarding.

Common Labour finally returns to the record press with their milestone tenth 12″! The four-tracker by pothOles perfectly balances crisp percussions and bassy grooves with evocative sprinkles of synthetic harmony.

His buddy Yaniel joins the party, collaborating on two tracks. The guys go way back to 2003 with their boy band days as the A.M. Specialists trio (comprising Samuli Kemppi, Yaniel, & pothOles). Most renowned for “Polar Zoo”, Danny Tenaglia’s power play at the Vinyl Club back in the day.

As you hear, their musical alchemy hasn’t dwindled one bit though. Much like the fading autumn light of a forest lake, this is tasteful deep-house at its most nostalgic and seductive. Big thanks to Fabio Monesi, Iron Curtis, Katerina, Roberto Rodriguez, Session Victim, and everyone else showing the love! Don’t miss out on the limited edition of 200 copies worldwide for the “It’s Been a While” EP.

"Two-pronged, remix attacks don't come much more exciting and potent than this... as here - thanks to our good friends at Nervous NYC - we're beyond hyped to bring you the legendary Masters At Work and Dave Lee on one single, fully weaponised package.

Putting their own, inimitable spins on Louie Vega's ˙Music Is My Life˙ - which features the unique talents of Unlimited Touch - we're treated to a pair of wonderfully complimentary, but no less idiosyncratic re-rubs from these two stalwarts of the scene.

With a production hand and artistic touch like no other - Masters At Work lead the way here, with their main remix. Characterised by that trademark looseness and deliciously warm, organic approach - their rework is awash with woozy psychedelia and layered so expertly, that getting lost in the music is both gloriously simple and an absolute pleasure. But no true Vega & Dope remix suite, would be complete without a bonafide Dub version. And for ˙Music Is My Life˙ - this sees the dynamite duo take proceedings down a distinctly more mesmeric and mood-laden path… one where the vocal is instead used as a powerful rhythmic weapon, and the star of the show, is a surreptitiously morphing and shape-shifting, delicately acid-laced synth lead.

Next up - having recently switched his attentions to productions under his own namesake - is Z Records' head honcho, Dave Lee. Snapping into life with its crisp and punchy drum work - what Lee's remix does share with that of the Masters is in the over-arching, tripped-out haze which douses proceedings. However - where his remix opts to stick its head well and truly above the parapit, is in it stylistic flavouring. As when it comes to slicing that genre cake, so to split the worlds of Disco and House perfectly down the middle - there's simply no one who does it finer.”

Fourteen new and previously unreleased tracks from some of the most exciting current bands from Seattle, Washington's vibrant alternative-rock underworld.
Continuing in the spirit of regional compilation albums like 1988's Sub Pop 200, "From Far It All Seems Small" serves as a snapshot of the contemporary Seattle scene.

"From Far It All Seems Small" jumps off the speakers with an onslaught of fuzz and an abundance of hooks. You might find yourself flipping the sleeve over, expecting to see a release date from the 1990's, but no, these are Seattle's finest here and now! - Jackson Long (KEXP, HMS Studio)

A wonderful document of the current moment of Seattle indie. - Ole Johnson (Painter Man Records)

A collection of songs that will get stuck in your head by Seattle's best alt-rockers. - Ellen Rumel (PNW music photographer)"

Bad Bad Hats traffic in playful concepts and warm scenes of youth, celebrated for crispy, lived-in melodies, big choruses that stick for days, and an easy musicianship that carries across their eclectic, wide-ranging releases. The new album – filled with their trademark freewheeling songs, pristine tones and several unexpectedly funky turns – suggests a band still having deep fun creating and playing, inviting listeners new and old to live life to their heartfelt tunes.

Most audiophiles know Alan Parsons Project's I Robot by heart. Engineered by Parsons after he performed the same duties on Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon, the 1977 record reigns as a disc whose taut bass, crisp highs, clean production, and seemingly limitless dynamic range are matched only by the sensational prog-rock fare helmed by the keyboardist and his creative partner, Eric Woolfson. Not surprisingly, it's been issued myriad times. Can it be improved? Relish Mobile Fidelity's stupendous UltraDisc One-Step 180g 33RPM box set and the question becomes moot.


Mastered from the original master tapes and pressed at RTI on MoFi SuperVinyl, I Robot comes to life with reference-setting realism on this numbered, limited-edition reissue. Boasting immaculate highs and lows, generous spaciousness, and see-through transparency that takes you into the studio with Parsons and Woolfson at Abbey Road, this definitive edition is designed to demonstrate the full-range capabilities of the world's best stereo systems while offering listeners the convenience of having all the music on one LP.

Featuring a nearly inaudible noise floor, this transcendent UD1S edition functions as a repeat invitation to savor reference-grade soundstages, immersive smoothness, sought-after instrumental separation, three-dimensional imaging, and consummate tonal balances. Able to be played back at high volumes without compromise or fatigue, it is a demonstration record for the ages – the likes of which are no longer being made. This is the very reason you own and invest in high-end audio gear.

The special characteristics of this UD1S version extend to the premium packaging. Housed in an elegant slipcase, the reissue features special foil-stamped jackets and faithful-to-the-original graphics. Aurally and visually, it is made for discerning listeners who prize sound quality and production, and who desire to fully immerse themselves in everything about this conceptual landmark. The Alan Parsons Project's most famous record deserves nothing less.

Inspired by and loosely based around the Isaac Asimov stories of the same name, I Robot delves into themes of artificial intelligence and technological dominance that make the record extremely relevant in the 21st century. Indeed, Parsons and Woolfson's pinnacle creation dovetailed with the ascendency of Star Wars, which itself is experiencing a rebirth in an age of self-driving cars, smart devices, and mindless automation. Lyrically, songs such as "The Voice" call into question human behavior – and their relationship to increasing robotic supremacy – in everyday life. Parsons and Woolfson reflect the associated paranoia, dichotomy, and transformation via shifting sci-fi arrangements steeped in drama and moodiness.

The absorbing tunes on I Robot also continue to fascinate due to their perfectionism and innovation. Borrowing from Pink Floyd's strategies, Parsons and Woolfson utilize a looped sequence on the title track to create new downbeats. "Some Other Time" employs two different lead vocalists and yet gives the illusion that only one is involved. Captivating strings, a piccolo trumpet, and bona fide pipe organ grace "Don't Let It Show." The origins of "Nucleus" stem from a unique analog keyboard concoction dubbed "the Projectron," devised by Parsons and electronic engineer Keith Johnson. Andrew Powell's orchestral and choral arrangements top it all off, with "Total Eclipse" arriving as a frightening track that presages the climactic "Genesis Ch. 1 V. 32."

Does man or machine win in the end? Decide as you get lost in Mobile Fidelity's UltraDisc 180g 33RPM LP pressing. Secure your numbered copy today!

More About Mobile Fidelity UltraDisc One-Step and Why It Is Superior
Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab's UltraDisc One-Step (UD1S) technique bypasses generational losses inherent to the traditional three-step plating process by removing two steps: the production of father and mother plates, which are created to yield numerous stampers from each lacquer that is cut. For UD1S plating, stampers (also called "converts") are made directly from the lacquers. Since each lacquer yields only one stamper, multiple lacquers need to be cut. Mobile Fidelity's UD1S process produces a final LP with the lowest-possible noise floor. The removal of two steps of the plating process also reveals musical details and dynamics that would otherwise be lost due to the standard multi-step process. With UD1S, every aspect of vinyl production is optimized to produce the best-sounding vinyl album available today.

MoFi SuperVinyl

Developed by NEOTECH and RTI, MoFi SuperVinyl is the most exacting-to-specification vinyl compound ever devised. Analogue lovers have never seen (or heard) anything like it. Extraordinarily expensive and extremely painstaking to produce, the special proprietary compound addresses two specific areas of improvement: noise floor reduction and enhanced groove definition. The vinyl composition features a new carbonless dye (hold the disc up to the light and see) and produces the world's quietest surfaces. This high-definition formula also allows for the creation of cleaner grooves that are indistinguishable from the original lacquer. MoFi SuperVinyl provides the closest approximation of what the label's engineers hear in the mastering lab.

Hail the sonic mayhem as we commemorate two decades of groundbreaking beats! Bong-Ra's iconic masterpiece, 'Bikini Bandits Kill! Kill! Kill!,' is set to make its vinyl debut on Rotterdam's Redrum Recordz. This record is a genre breaking fusion of breakcore, jungle and experimental electronic sounds that define Bong-Ra's visionary work. Safe to say; a classic! With guest appearances of The Dirty Dred (Skindred / Dub War), Mike Redman (Deformer) and Lolita Storm. In homage to the album's relentless energy and fiery spirit, the 20th-anniversary edition comes in striking red double vinyl. Order now to ensure you don't miss out on this limited release.

Repress.


After the success of Bollywood infused edit of Koi Jaye and the Three Eyes remix, Tjade is back on Bordello A Parigi with a four tracker of varied delights. A clear enthusiasm for bright melodies and bending bars of trance runs through his Voyager EP. The title track judders to life on rumbling arpeggio lines, while the leads are crisp and beats racing fast as an anthem for dancing till sunrise dawns. “In Contact” offers corkscrew acid key shifts and sentimental chiptune melodies, while broken beats and the devil-may-care chords characterise “Shut Out”. Tjade provides music to help cares float away and bring people together. To top it all off, the master of all things modern rave Marlon Hoffstadt dons his DJ Daddy Trance moniker to rework the title piece. The BPMs rise, the breaks extend and drops fall from great height.

Repress!

Little Dragon return with a spectacular second album offering in August, a pulsating electro pop epic that Prince would be proud of (only fronted by a beautiful Swedish lady with a sultry voice). A bold and surprising side/two step onwards from their self titled debut, released two years ago to great acclaim especially among specialist circles. Machine Dreams, with its nagging hooks and gloriously infectious tunes, should finally see the band break out into the mainstream.

Recorded in their home city of Gothenburg, Machine Dreams is a gigantic leap on from previous material but still maintains a distinct sound that can only be Little Dragon. Be it Yukimi s warmly inviting vocals, Erik s dextrous drumming, the vast array of synths and bleeps created by Hakan or Frederik s bubbling bass lines, together they don t sound like anything else around right now. The move towards a more electronic sound was a conscious one, as Yukimi explains; The title Machine Dreams seems obvious. These days, humans seem more and more like machines, and as technology evolves, machines feel more human and it becomes fuzzy and beautiful and science fiction-ish. We feel dependent on our machines to create and live, and their sounds reflect us .

Album opener A New breaks us in gently with a single whirring note on the synthesiser, an almost alien sound that gradually morphs into a slow, thumping bassline. Yukimi s vocals flow alongside Hakan s assortment of sound effects interspersed with militaristic drums breaks. A magical opener that sets the scene and seems to sink into itself, taking us with it, until the pace is swiftly ratcheted skywards with Looking Glass , the massive snare, crisp driving beat and experimental synths revealing the band s current penchant for the 80 s. This influence continues apace into stand out track My Step . Utilising a solid drumbeat that nestles next to jagged and playful synthlines, the track breaks down into motorik propulsion with a scuzzy techno bassline that Yukimi works with ease.

Upcoming single Feather finds Yukimi s voice at its most detached and blaze, seemingly nonchalant yet magnificently seductive. Backed by Hakan s keyboard atmospherics, the song creates a soundscape reminiscent of Tears For Fears more reflective moods. Gradually layering more vocals, synths, echoes and reverb, it builds to a quietly psychedelic, dreamy cosmic swirl. Runabout brings forth a mini Airto style percussive breakdown at the tail end of yet another Little Dragon pop gem. Swimming bursts forth into vision with stabbing keys and reflective bass alongside yet another wonderful vocal performance from Yukimi who sings of young love and now so many years have past, my memories as clear as glass . The song is over as quickly as it started, flowing into the next miniature masterpiece in the form of Blinking Pigs

The album closes with the stunning track Fortune , which has already caught the attention of none other than DJ Shadow. It s no wonder really, as the textured melodies blend with the drifting percussion, creating a blissful sonic mood. With a smattering of drums and bass and the magic of Yukimi s voice and Hakan s electronic dynamics floating on top, it s the perfect track to end this fascinating journey through Little Dragon s brave new world.

With disparate influences from Depeche Mode to Prince, LCD Soundsystem to James Holden, Dancehall to R&B, Jazz and Soul, Little Dragon take their place among artists who straddle many genres, yet somehow create their own and in doing so create sounds that make time stop (Yukimi). Futuristic yet somehow retro, Machine Dreams sees Little Dragon achieve something timeless; that elusive pop classic.

DJ Crisps is starting to make some handy garage moves after a couple of various artists' appearances and a fine EP on Time Is Now Germany in July. Now they link up with Oldboy who appeared on Burnski's other label Vivid back in 2022.

As you should expect these are four hardcore and rudely garage cuts with plenty of swagger, naughty samples and bass-face potential. 'On My Way' is the standout with its shuffling one-two drum punch, distant police sirens and warped basslines underneath a timeless and irresistible female vocal full of soul. A summer scorcher for sure alongside three more very useful weapons.

Dreamers have dreamt for as long as domes have fallen, bobbing musical swells from Stephen Foster to the Everlys. Now here comes that beautiful dreamer JOSEPHINE FOSTER and, sugarpie, she's not the same. She has donned her magenta vestiments, dreaming back, with mossy verses that haunt like a name never called. It's not just Jo and her shadow, though, this time around-she's got a gaggle of Nashville cats on hand to coax spidery cathedrals from these campfire jams. Folks will want to call this her "Harvest" - with its harp and pedal steel, its double bass and cascading piano. And it's true, "I'm a Dreamer" beckons with a gentle hand, each note clear and crisp so that one feels each grain. Amid such delicate charms, however, lurk muses with rotting flesh, ugly ducklings and Djuna Barnes, wooden floors upon which no babies will be rocked. Wily is the heart that wanders filled with duende and desire, that rides the thigh like a parlor guitar when a strap just isn't handy. These are songs comfortably at home in salon or saloon, dreams deep enough to bury your dread - as sorrowful, as sexy, as stirring a set of songs as anybody's dreamt up in ages.

The great sound of the sixties has been collected on this album. Featuring big international hits from Shocking Blue, Golden Earring, Petula Clark, The Shangri-Las and Demis Roussos. Go back in time with this great compilation, released on turquoise coloured vinyl. Original artists! Original versions!

Through evocative, emotionally resonant music, Goodbye, Hotel Arkada , the new LP from American harpist and composer Mary Lattimore , speaks not just for its beloved namesake _ a hotel in Croatia facing renovation _ but for a universal loss that is shared. Six sprawling pieces shaped by change; nothing will ever be the same, and here, the artist, evolving in synthesis, celebrates and mourns the tragedy and beauty of the ephem - eral, all that is lived and lost to time. Documented and edited in uncharacteristically measured sessions over the course of two years, the material remains rooted in improvisation while glistening as the most refined and robust in Lattimore's decade-long catalog. It finds her communing with friends, contemporaries, and longtime influences, in full stride yet slow - ing down to nurture songs in new ways. The cast includes Lol Tolhurst (The Cure), Meg Baird, Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Roy Montgomery, Samara Lubelski, and Walt McClements . "When I think of these songs, I think about fading flowers in vases, melted candles, getting older, being on tour and having things change while you're away, not realizing how ephemeral experiences are until they don't happen anymore, fear for a planet we're losing because of greed, an ode to art and music that's really shaped your life that can transport you back in time, longing to maintain sensitivity and to not sink into hollow despondency." For the title and inspiration, Lattimore's mind returns to the island of Hvar in Croatia, where she first saw those silver ladders at the water's edge. "There's a big old hotel there called the Hotel Arkada, and you could tell it had been hosting holiday-goers for decades in a great way. I walked around the lobby and the empty ballrooms and it looked like a well-worn, well-loved place. My friend Stacey who lives there told me to `say goodbye to Hotel Arkada, it might not be here when you get back' and I heard soon after that it was actually going to be renovated in a very crisp, modern way." Lattimore became fixated on the ingredients that make a place special _ for Hotel Arkada, the patinaed chandeliers, the patterned bedspreads, the echoes of its intangible charm _ and how when those leave this world, as they inevitably always will, it feels import - ant to memorialize them, "to bottle it for a brief second.

Through evocative, emotionally resonant music, Goodbye, Hotel Arkada , the new LP from American harpist and composer Mary Lattimore , speaks not just for its beloved namesake _ a hotel in Croatia facing renovation _ but for a universal loss that is shared. Six sprawling pieces shaped by change; nothing will ever be the same, and here, the artist, evolving in synthesis, celebrates and mourns the tragedy and beauty of the ephem - eral, all that is lived and lost to time. Documented and edited in uncharacteristically measured sessions over the course of two years, the material remains rooted in improvisation while glistening as the most refined and robust in Lattimore's decade-long catalog. It finds her communing with friends, contemporaries, and longtime influences, in full stride yet slow - ing down to nurture songs in new ways. The cast includes Lol Tolhurst (The Cure), Meg Baird, Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Roy Montgomery, Samara Lubelski, and Walt McClements . "When I think of these songs, I think about fading flowers in vases, melted candles, getting older, being on tour and having things change while you're away, not realizing how ephemeral experiences are until they don't happen anymore, fear for a planet we're losing because of greed, an ode to art and music that's really shaped your life that can transport you back in time, longing to maintain sensitivity and to not sink into hollow despondency." For the title and inspiration, Lattimore's mind returns to the island of Hvar in Croatia, where she first saw those silver ladders at the water's edge. "There's a big old hotel there called the Hotel Arkada, and you could tell it had been hosting holiday-goers for decades in a great way. I walked around the lobby and the empty ballrooms and it looked like a well-worn, well-loved place. My friend Stacey who lives there told me to `say goodbye to Hotel Arkada, it might not be here when you get back' and I heard soon after that it was actually going to be renovated in a very crisp, modern way." Lattimore became fixated on the ingredients that make a place special _ for Hotel Arkada, the patinaed chandeliers, the patterned bedspreads, the echoes of its intangible charm _ and how when those leave this world, as they inevitably always will, it feels import - ant to memorialize them, "to bottle it for a brief second.

Through evocative, emotionally resonant music, Goodbye, Hotel Arkada , the new LP from American harpist and composer Mary Lattimore , speaks not just for its beloved namesake _ a hotel in Croatia facing renovation _ but for a universal loss that is shared. Six sprawling pieces shaped by change; nothing will ever be the same, and here, the artist, evolving in synthesis, celebrates and mourns the tragedy and beauty of the ephem - eral, all that is lived and lost to time. Documented and edited in uncharacteristically measured sessions over the course of two years, the material remains rooted in improvisation while glistening as the most refined and robust in Lattimore's decade-long catalog. It finds her communing with friends, contemporaries, and longtime influences, in full stride yet slow - ing down to nurture songs in new ways. The cast includes Lol Tolhurst (The Cure), Meg Baird, Rachel Goswell (Slowdive), Roy Montgomery, Samara Lubelski, and Walt McClements . "When I think of these songs, I think about fading flowers in vases, melted candles, getting older, being on tour and having things change while you're away, not realizing how ephemeral experiences are until they don't happen anymore, fear for a planet we're losing because of greed, an ode to art and music that's really shaped your life that can transport you back in time, longing to maintain sensitivity and to not sink into hollow despondency." For the title and inspiration, Lattimore's mind returns to the island of Hvar in Croatia, where she first saw those silver ladders at the water's edge. "There's a big old hotel there called the Hotel Arkada, and you could tell it had been hosting holiday-goers for decades in a great way. I walked around the lobby and the empty ballrooms and it looked like a well-worn, well-loved place. My friend Stacey who lives there told me to `say goodbye to Hotel Arkada, it might not be here when you get back' and I heard soon after that it was actually going to be renovated in a very crisp, modern way." Lattimore became fixated on the ingredients that make a place special _ for Hotel Arkada, the patinaed chandeliers, the patterned bedspreads, the echoes of its intangible charm _ and how when those leave this world, as they inevitably always will, it feels import - ant to memorialize them, "to bottle it for a brief second.

Ben Sterling joins Damian Lazarus’ renowned Crosstown Rebels imprint, partnering with Caitlyn Scarlett for ‘Don’t Truss’.

Building on the release of arguably one of the tracks of 2022 with his remix of Tiga’s iconic ‘Mind Dimension 2’, UK hotshot and Planet X boss Ben Sterling has made 2023 another year of raising the levels, with his debut on Solomon’s Diynamic becoming an instant summer anthem in the midst of his busiest summer to date. Adding yet another huge label debut to the mix, he continues to showcase his range across house music as Damian Lazarus invites him to Crosstown Rebels for the first time, partnering with singer/songwriter Caitlyn Scarlett for ‘Don’t Truss’ on the revered imprint.

A rolling and crisp production with Scarlett’s alluring and hooky vocals at its core, it’s easy to see why ‘Don’t Truss’ has become a stand-out track from Sterling’s own sets across the globe over the past 12 months. Fusing tightly programmed percussion, warped murmurs, and a slinking, snaking groove, it’s a track crafted for the dancefloor, moving crowds unison and leaving a lasting impact. On the flip, ‘Bring Me To The Surface’ is a groove-led and bubbling cut that keeps the energy levels with skittering drums, acid-dipped basslines, resonant synths and yet more vibrant vocals.

The influence that 80s gay nightlife had on electronic music, pop music in general and the evolution of clubbing for
subsequent generations is pretty much incalculable. In spite of the shadow of AIDs and reactionary political and media
forces both at home and in the USA, the period 1980 – 1990 bore witness to a dazzling explosion of dance music that
artfully drew a line from the peak of late-70s disco to the emergence of house and its 90s glory days. The art of the
12” single, the thrill of the remix, the rise of the superclub, the electronic spark of chart pop, the challenging of gender
barriers… all had their origin in the gay clubs. It’s not unreasonable to make the claim that by the end of the 80s,
virtually ALL chart pop music sounded like it had its origins on the dancefloors of Heaven nightclub!
Over 4LPs and 24 tracks, ‘Box Of Sin’ strives to tell the story of that decade, and to tease apart the strands of 80s gay
clubbing to show a period of unrivalled creativity and disco diversity. Via the box’s themed discs it shows how highenergy became house, how gender-bending synth bands took over the pop charts, how pop stars the whole world
over found a route to fame via the gay clubs, and how the era’s biggest producers aimed their masterworks purely at
the dancefloor. High energy, deep house, Eurobeat, synthpop, divas, acid house… all combine to paint a picture of a
rich and vibrant lifestyle. Along the way, ‘Box Of Sin’ unearths some overlooked gems rarely compiled today:
meanwhile some of the decade’s biggest names in club music gather to get into the picture – from Whitney Houston
to Dead Or Alive, Bananarama to Bronski Beat, Aretha Franklin to Inner City.
Based on the actual club charts at the time and with a stunning design package inspired by the small ads section of
80s gay press, ‘ Box Of Sin’ comes fully annotated and with an introduction by renowned gay author Paul Burston.
Throughout, it’s illustrated with photography documenting 80s gay clubbers in action, provided for Demon by The
Bishopsgate Institute, the UK’s LGBTQ+ archive. The project also resurrects the much-loved brand ‘Disco Discharge’, a
recognisable hallmark of quality among collectors and aficionados of club music heritage.

repressed !

Undesignated remixes is an expansive project containing 12 remixes of tracks from dgoHn’s iconic 2020 full-length by some choice artists from in and around the Love Love sphere. Remixes that take dgoHn’s unique razor-sharp original productions and send them through a loop and round the twist, some stripped down, some messed up, most but not all maintaining the speedier tempos that dgoHn likes to work around. The result is a collection of seriously futuristic electronic music with some stylistic leanings towards labels like braindance or drumfunk or jungle but completely genre-eluding as a whole, reshaped from the minerals of the original LP by some absolute dons of their craft.

Opening the album Equinox does a fantastic job highlighting the lushness of ‘Puppet’ layering sky-high sunshine pads before sliding into Meat Beat Manifesto’s heavy sci-fi acid dub version of ‘Daisy Takes Two’. A woozy remix of ‘Lucky Gonk’ by Macc & dgoHn marks the first new material from them as a duo since ’09 and Wisp also makes a rare appearance bringing his inimitable post-rephlexian vibes on an agonisingly wonderful, melody-heavy remix of 'Electryon'. Skee Mask’s choice of remixing ‘Robin’s Windmill’ turns the original into a bundle of writhing rhythms organically unfolding with swelling ambient tones. Homegrown heroes Rognvald & Scrase both opt for pumped up post-breakcore in unconventional time signatures while Djrum emphatically provides the LP’s dose of peak jungle choppage, tempering the drum breaks of ‘Ninnyhammer’ with a blistering amen. Also featured on the LP are crisp and beefy drum workouts courtesy of Coco Bryce and Forest Drive West, visceral and apocalyptic half-time bass from Activia Benz affiliated duo Quavis and virtuosic noir-jazz tearout from fellow East-Anglian Carl Brown.

One unrealesed long tune on A-side, with a Sample taken out from Cavage records... (everything happens...) And, B-side 2 repressed (and remastered) tunes from FKY, coming from the Electro Lab Factory albumm W33dbass. Enjoy !

Lewis II was the follow up to Lewis Taylor's epochal, self-titled debut album. It was initially released in 2000 and this double LP release, its first ever vinyl edition, has been heavily anticipated for nearly a quarter of a century. It's often years before most listeners catch up with an album's breathtaking vision and devastating execution, and so it has proved with Lewis II; it stands up exceptionally well today.

After Island rejected Lewis Taylor's second release (later released as The Lost Album), he returned to the studio to record Lewis II. Less esoteric than Lewis Taylor, Lewis II is a more polished, sophisticated funk and mature uptempo soul than the dark psych-soul of his debut. The production, whilst slicker, is a bit tougher, with more crisp, R&B-flavoured grooves and head-nod beats and more bass pumping up his voice. The vocal intensity present on album number one doesn't abate. Indeed, as Lewis himself noted, "my voice is better on Lewis II and the vocals are high in the mix."

The moody funk of "Party" sounds like a mad blend of Riot-era Sly Stone and Brian Wilson. It rides a stuttering drum machine groove with acapella harmony vocals arriving halfway through to stay for the duration. "My Aching Heart", with its clean, slick, late 90s R&B drums, could surely have been a single. Perhaps Lewis's idiosyncratic melodies would've been too challenging for the charts. Lewis *had hoped* "You Make Me Wanna" would be a single but the dank, organ-drenched groove, coupled with the growling eroticism of Lewis's vocals would've, again, made this beyond the pale for most mainstream music fans. Somewhat incongruous acidic synths and bleeps give way to a laconic summertime groove on breezy highlight "The Way You Done Me", all funky acoustic guitars and stunning, good-time vocals. Sumptuous ballad "Satisfied", a real fan favourite, marries unusual instrumentation with classic soul-ballad structure and closes with a monster guitar solo which almost out-Princes Prince in its gritty melodicism, set against sweeping strings of real majesty. Prog-Funk-Rock!

The dubbed-out, spaced-out "Never Gonna Be My Woman" is the closest the album comes to classic D’Angeloesque neo-soul, with echoes of the esoteric funk featured across Maxwell's contemporaneous Embrya. But what follows is on some next level business. As Lewis's biggest fan, Geoffrey Scull, noted, "the "I'm On The Floor" / "Lewis II" / "Into You" song cycle stacks up against any other consecutive 15 minutes of recorded music, ever!" And who are we to argue with that? These could've been hits for Justin Timberlake during his fascinating Timbaland-collaborating days, such is the sonic and textural pop experimentation at play here. The extraordinary title track sounds like an outtake from Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man and spends its last third as a searingly dark piano-led psychedelic-guitar-crunching soul instrumental. Just astounding. And then. AND THEN! The way it segues into, er, "Into You" is just straight up genius. Goosebumps galore on this one, no words can describe its celestial brilliance. Just kick back and be beguiled by the "Let me come on over again" refrain that ornately adorns its sensational coda. Phew.

The swoonsome, lovelorn ballad "Blue Eyes", apparently written in the spirit of Marvin’s "Vulnerable", is a lush, slow swinger with some gorgeous noir touches. To close, Lewis completely retools Jeff Buckley’s beloved, beautiful "Everybody Here Wants You" and, while talking some liberties, even manages to surpass the original. Yes, really! With soaring, fiery vocals set against icy piano and psychedelic guitars, Lewis recasts Buckley's effort as dramatic, ethereal soul.

When it came to translating the original CD booklet into a 12 inch LP sleeve, thanks to some suggestions from Cally Callomon (head of Island’s art department, who designed all the sleeves for Lewis’s two Island albums and their singles) and his trusting us with his “Lewis Taylor” folder full of various negatives, test prints and whatever else he was able to salvage from the old Island art department, we’ve gotten pretty close to what the original LP sleeve would’ve looked like if it existed. Simon Francis’s vinyl mastering, presents the eleven tracks over a double LP so, as ever, the record sounds outstandingly good. The records have been cut by Cicely Balston at Air Studios and pressed at Record Industry.

Northwind Splatter Vinyl! Isolated at the rural fringe of Northern California, Bailey's Nervous Kats took Shasta County by storm in the early '60s. Combining surf, rock n' roll, exotica, and R&B, the Kats were a teenage dream draped in Magnatone amplifiers and crisp white polo tees. Their self-titled_and only_LP came at the dead end of the band's run, issued on Orville Simmons' one-shot Emma imprint in 1965. The mid-century modern LP of your dreams.