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AICHER is the work of longtime label veteran Liam Andrews (My Disco, EROS), with additional production from his My Disco spar Rohan Rebeiro – an experimental percussionist and erstwhile collaborator of Roland S. Howard and HTRK. Together, they make resoundingly coarse, bullish industrial musick, distilling fascinations with tone and space through eight gristly and darkly sublime cuts, sharpened by production from Boris Wilsdorf of Einstürzende Neubauten and Swans fame.

Through eight cuts, »Defensive Acoustics« reveals a clammy touch of reverberant buzz and below-the-belt shudder, with a creeping, sensual signature of authority that strongly recalls Alan Wilder’s Blasphemous Rumours-era sound design for Depeche Mode, stripped to absolute skeletal fire. Tectonic plates of sound are pushed to an extreme biting point in a sort of structural stress test that feels like an oil rig in action—or perhaps more acutely, junked at harbour.

We go from the lurching buckle of »Ascertain« and the bilious atonality of »Harness Pleads« to the vertiginous scale of the title piece and the brutal momentum of »An Exhausted Image«—almost collapsing under its own bass weight—while the pranging girders of »Constriction« make us think of that 101 version of »Stripped«: propulsive, full of primal energy, and clanging, clipped reverb. »Possessions« ends the album with a passage of bleakly romantic ambience, a judicious emotive counterweight to the preceding gnarl.

Regis and Surgeon return as British Murder Boys with their first 12” since 2014, unleashing two relentless club detonations that fuse industrial ferocity with punk immediacy. On »Now, This Is You«, boulder-heavy kicks, gnashing arps, and Karl O’Connor’s snarled vocals collide in a 150 BPM storm. The flip, »Get In Line«, hits straighter but no softer, driven by pounding bass and sour bleeps that conjure a delirious late-night energy. Brutal, swaggering, and unfiltered — BMB at their most uncompromising.

Downwards present Alexander Tucker in metamorphosis from psych folk to techgnostic bard, aided by notable guests – Justin K Broadrick, Regis, Phew, Karl D’Silva, JJOWDY, and Elvin Brandhi – in a quest for disordered convention and new thrills. One up to Tucker’s outings for Alter and The Tapeworm, and spiritual successor to his »Nonexistant« trio on Downwards, »Clear Vortex Chamber« is an enigmatic take on the brownfield edgelands where the eldritch intersects electronic heck. Decades of work spread between hardcore punk, psych rock, folk, and drone — including work with Stephen O’Malley (Ginnungap) and Neil Campbell (Astral Social Club, ESP Kinetic) — feed forward into this album’s unsteady machine rhythms and cranky junkyard atonalities, where Tucker panel-beats aspects of his previous sound with a newfound industrial thrust and cyber-punky lust that suits him dead well.

A crafty example of how to mutate without losing sight of yourself, the album’s eight parts feel like a cyborg patching itself into modernity. On opener »Udug« Tucker’s signature falsetto peals from a A Scanner Darkly-style scramble suit of stereo-strobing electronics, setting a melodramatic, neo-gothic tension that riddles the album thru the knotted, fractured industrial dancehall bullishness of »Mallets« with Yeah You’s feral gob Elvin Brandhi, via a pair of standout »Fedbck« parts with Tucker’s personal idol, Justin K Broadrick (Godflesh, Jesu, and the rest), featuring the Brum deity’s claw-handed riffs and howl on the first, and smeared with Karl D’Silva’s brass in its noctilucent second part.

Regis also proves a staunch foil for the album’s most robust, club-ready cut »Zona«, hammered out from buzzing metallic drums and monotone bass drones, and pitting his severed vox against Tucker’s own androgynous harmonies to recall aspects of The Ephemeron Loop via British Murder Boys, whilst scene legend, Can and Ryuichi Sakamoto spar Phew (aka Aunt Sally) ideally tempers the flow in a relatively soothing »Sansu«, sharing more cyber-romantic, recombinant sentiments with the channelling of Robert Wyatt gone Funk Bruxaria on »Folded«.

Champaign, Illinois band Hum is re-issuing its four-album catalog on vinyl with exclusive distribution by Polyvinyl Records. The band members oversaw every step of the re-mastering, lacquer cutting, and manufacturing stages while working with original designer Andy Mueller/Ohio Girl in updating the artwork. Each album is offered in a double-LP 180g set in black.

Recorded by Mark Rubel at Pogo Studio, Champaign, IL. Mixed by Brian Malouf at Pacifique, LA.
Licensed from Sony Music and re-mastered by Ryan Smith at Sterling Sound, New York.

Einstürzende Neubauten producer Boris Wilsdorf, Karl O’Connor aka Regis and MY DISCO's Liam Andrews assemble as EROS, bottling no-wave/industrial lightning with a tight set of pulverized, widescreen torched-songs that rasp, grate and throb somewhere between This Heat, The Cure, Cabaret Voltaire, Alva Noto x Pan Sonic.

An industrial fantasy of flesh and steel, ‘A Southern Code’ is the stunning continuation of the trio’s work at Wilsdorf’s pivotal Anderesbaustelle studio on Regis’ watershed album, ‘Hidden In This Is The Light That You Miss’. Rejoined by another key muse, Anni Hogan, and Einstürzende Neubauten’s Jochen Arbeit, they effectively galvanised a new band, EROS, during long days and nights in the studio across 2020 and into 2021. The sound they make is fiercely lean, shaped by Wilsdorf’s manacled mixing and anchored in the frankly sexy as f#ck swerve of Regis vocals and his snake-hipped rhythm section.

The first songs issued from those sessions form a lustrous new high point of contemporary industrial and dance music, one porous to Kurdish dabke as much as archetypal goth, pulsing with a metallic bloodlust and spatialized by Wilsdorf’s genre-forming tekkerz in a way that seriously rewards with proper amplification. Judged on its immediate merits, it’s the sort of record that could have feasibly come out at any point between the ‘80s and now, but closer inspection reveals a discreet framework of sculpted subbass and sleekly rolling traction that betrays the modernity of minimalist D&B physics and up-to-the-second sound design that places ‘A Southern Code’ in a timeless echelon.

Registering the venomous drums and over-the-shoulder whispers of its title track, plus the incendiary middle eastern horns of ‘The Crawling Man’ - a real parallel dimension take on The Cure’s ‘The Top’ - to the post-apocalyptic lounge lizard styles of ‘In This Place’, and the unheimlich creep to ‘Nature Unborn (From Sun to Sun)’, the band’s first album plants a vital stake in the ground for industrial musick at the crest of a new decade.

Clear Vinyl

Downwards’ deep bonds with NYC catalyse the debut LP by Jim Siegel’s Vivid Oblivion, a reveberating post-industrial salvo produced by adopted Brooklynite Karl O’Connor (Regis), and co-mixed by Anthony Child (Surgeon) and Simon Shreeve, who also mastered it. It’s a super deep, highly atmospheric beast somewhere between Valentina Magaletti’s most expressive percussion work, Bark Psychosis, and classic, moody 4AD, which is coincidentally referenced via the artwork, made by Chris Bigg - legendary graphic designer and longtime assistant to Vaughan Oliver.

Invoking the density, vertiginous scale, and dark grimy nooks of NYC, ‘The Graphic Cabinet’ was realised by Jim Siegel - hardcore legend and occasional/regular drummer with everyone from Raspberry Bulbs to Damo Suzuki and Boredoms, made in close collaboration with Karl O’Connor aka Regis during 2021.

Stemming from intently deep listening sessions immersed in LPs by Viennese aktionist Hermann Nitsch and the myriad eras of Killing Joke, while also absorbing the atmospheres of classic Tarkovsky flicks, the album began life as gonzo field recordings of Siegel smashing the f*ck out of his drum kit, zither, scrap metal and gongs in an array of abandoned warehouse spaces. The recordings formed the basis of Karl’s compound productions, which add depth charge bass and sonorous metallic atmospheres to the mix, along with birdsong and gibbon hoots, plus guitar textures by Nick Forté (Raspberry Bulbs, Rorschach) for a dread-lusting jag deep in the belly of the Big Apple.

With a palpable tang of rust and blood in the air and grime under the fingernails, the seven tracks evoke a resoundingly brutalist portrait of space and place. Siegel’s nervy percussive discipline is framed in alternating barometric and light settings from cut to cut, variously snaking from the poltergeist clang and haunted resonance of ‘Converging and Dissolving’ to slamming motorik thrum in ‘Oblivion’ via imaginative descent into cyberpunk simulacra of the city as jungle-at-night in ‘Remnant Corridor’, replete with animalistic atmospheres that recall Organum.

While the raw attack and devilish swerve of the rhythms are utterly fundamental to the record, Karl’s atmospheric content and the animist mixing magick of Anthony Child and Simon Shreeve most potently give flesh to its bones. Patently evident on the stepping pulse and searching zither that keens into detuned orchestration on ‘Immediate Possession’, the zoned-out klang of ‘Stand Aside’ or in the flooded warehouse chaos of ‘Test For Traps’. The attention to spatial, textural and proprioceptive detail is tightened throughout, peaking with ‘Bargemaster’, a dense slab of tension that sounds like Jon Mueller’s Silo recordings fed through The Caretaker’s fogged machinery.

It’s one of the most impressive records on Downwards for a long while, bound to gnaw and spark the nerves of experimental rock and post-industrial’s greats, anything from The New Blockaders to Faust, Flying Saucer Attack and into iconic Blackest Ever Black releases in the modern era.

Clear Vinyl

Post-punk/new wave hero Ann Margaret Hogan’s second album of solo piano and field recordings for Downwards is a box of subtle wonders, mastered by Veronica Vasicka and highly recommended if yr into Satie, Virginia Astley, Sarah Davachi.
A weight of history flows through Hogan’s keys with a stark intimacy, beautifully illuminated by naturally effortless, quietly grand songwriting. It’s a direct continuation of the landscaped themes
and atavism of 2020’s ‘Honeysuckle Burials’ and the ‘Reversing Into Tomorrow’ collaboration with Karl O’Connor, vividly capturing the slow passage of time in a way that has quite literally compelled
us to stop the relentless mind-grind for its 40 minute duration on more than one occasion.
After previous fixations on the iron age forts and burial mounds of the Clywdian Range in North Wales, Hogan transmutes the scenery of her more immediate locale, Oxton on The Wirral - from the cadence of its red sandstone landmark Thor’s Rock, to memories of its boating lake, for example - into a quiet yet ravishing suite inflected with traces of wildlife and industry recorded on long walks, all subsumed within a deep blue estuarial atmosphere silted by the strange reality of life in
the current era, echoing the surreal, sunny period when the album was conceived.
A generation on from her pivotal work with spar Marc Almond and likes of Deux Filles and Nick Cave, and forty generations since The Wirral hosted, as she says “a Norse parliament at Thingwall”,
Hogan weaves time and place into a reflective, funereal sort of parlour music, turning daily ambulations amid the gorse and under luminous skies into gorgeous, life affirming and intimate self expressions.
The eight pieces are mostly improvised and flow with a free, fleeting concision from the palpable warmth of ‘Forgotten Prelude’ and bluesy ache of ‘Fragile Elements’ to more funereal modes in ’Mesto’ and ‘Funeral Cargo’ suggestive of a Viking burial soundtrack. At its core, ‘Wolfswalzer’, a dedication to her one time collaborator and erstwhile Kraftwerk member Wolfgang Flür - is described by Hogan as “a simple waltz of coffee, food, friends and music”, and ‘Impromptu’ is the
album’s slowest, soaked in the feeling of atmospheric immanence that defines the album’s timeless appeal. It’s an unspeakably moving album, words really do it no justice.

Excelsior! It’s the hail of yore that one should go ever onward and upward. And so, fittingly Onwards and Downwards is the occultist Swedish band Alastor’s clever call to arms... and also a reflection of our collective dark state of mind these days.
“If our last album Slave to the Grave were about death, this record is more about madness,” says guitarist Hampus Sandell. “You can look at the whole record as one person’s gradual slip into insanity. An ongoing nightmare without end. It also sums up the state of the world around us as this year has clearly shown.”
Alastor is heavy doom rock for the wicked and depraved. Drenched in heavy, distorted darkness and steeped in occult horror that will make your skin crawl and ears cry sweet tears of blood, the band is revitalized in 2021 with meticulously crafted songs and new drummer Jim Nordström bringing a hard-hitting and precise energy.
“It’s a more focused record but at the same time it’s more personal and naked. More raw emotion and pain,” Hampus says. The band recorded the album with the help of Joona Hassinen of Studio Underjord, who has helped with mixing since their ”Blood on Satan’s Claw” EP in 2017. Christoffer Karlsson of The Dahmers also assisted with overdubs and encouraged the band to demo the material early on, aiding in the album’s more deliberate and tighter feel.
From the first note of opener “The Killer In My Skull” the guitars are far thicker and out front than ever, and Nordström pummels the snare and kick like a young Dave Grohl. Bassist/vocalist Robin Arnryd’s chorus-drenched voice soars above it all like a one-man choir, at times harmonizing beautifully with shimmering Hammond organ notes. Nary a moment is wasted on the droning navel-gazing of lesser bands. Particularly, the driving anthem “Death Cult” which sounds like it would fit comfortably on QOTSA’s Songs For The Deaf, though there’s considerably more heft here. The title track pays its due to the Devil’s tritone in a marvelously woven framework of intertwining melodies befitting the album’s theme of descent into madness.
The quartet released its epic 3-song debut album Black Magic in early 2017 via Twin Earth Records, followed by the 2-track “Blood On Satan’s Claw” EP on Halloween the same year. Joining forces with RidingEasy Records in 2018, Alastor summoned the 7-track hateful gospel Slave To The Grave, which was packed with dynamic twists and turns, and funereal girth. It was met with considerable praise, setting the stage for the band’s greatest step onward (and upward... or downward, depending on your preferences.)

Excelsior! It’s the hail of yore that one should go ever onward and upward. And so, fittingly Onwards and Downwards is the occultist Swedish band Alastor’s clever call to arms... and also a reflection of our collective dark state of mind these days.
“If our last album Slave to the Grave were about death, this record is more about madness,” says guitarist Hampus Sandell. “You can look at the whole record as one person’s gradual slip into insanity. An ongoing nightmare without end. It also sums up the state of the world around us as this year has clearly shown.”
Alastor is heavy doom rock for the wicked and depraved. Drenched in heavy, distorted darkness and steeped in occult horror that will make your skin crawl and ears cry sweet tears of blood, the band is revitalized in 2021 with meticulously crafted songs and new drummer Jim Nordström bringing a hard-hitting and precise energy.
“It’s a more focused record but at the same time it’s more personal and naked. More raw emotion and pain,” Hampus says. The band recorded the album with the help of Joona Hassinen of Studio Underjord, who has helped with mixing since their ”Blood on Satan’s Claw” EP in 2017. Christoffer Karlsson of The Dahmers also assisted with overdubs and encouraged the band to demo the material early on, aiding in the album’s more deliberate and tighter feel.
From the first note of opener “The Killer In My Skull” the guitars are far thicker and out front than ever, and Nordström pummels the snare and kick like a young Dave Grohl. Bassist/vocalist Robin Arnryd’s chorus-drenched voice soars above it all like a one-man choir, at times harmonizing beautifully with shimmering Hammond organ notes. Nary a moment is wasted on the droning navel-gazing of lesser bands. Particularly, the driving anthem “Death Cult” which sounds like it would fit comfortably on QOTSA’s Songs For The Deaf, though there’s considerably more heft here. The title track pays its due to the Devil’s tritone in a marvelously woven framework of intertwining melodies befitting the album’s theme of descent into madness.
The quartet released its epic 3-song debut album Black Magic in early 2017 via Twin Earth Records, followed by the 2-track “Blood On Satan’s Claw” EP on Halloween the same year. Joining forces with RidingEasy Records in 2018, Alastor summoned the 7-track hateful gospel Slave To The Grave, which was packed with dynamic twists and turns, and funereal girth. It was met with considerable praise, setting the stage for the band’s greatest step onward (and upward... or downward, depending on your preferences.)

NO WORDS!! - Except SOLID BLUE VINYL!!!

Repress

Humans controlling machines or machines controlling humans. KAOS has born as a form order approaching the machine music to human emotions, from the dance floor for the dance floor. Distinctive techno tools on high energy mode for Disc-jockeys and collectors.

KAOS is a subdivision from OAKS

Compiled and selected by Hector Oaks.

Leading outlet for forward-thinking Scandinavian jazz, April Records, proudly presents the new album from Malmö-based quintet People In Orbit. A followup to their critically acclaimed 2023 release Close/Away (Naxos Prophone), the group continues to explore Scandinavia"s jazz tradition through a contemporary lens, blending acoustic interplay with electronics and a focus on collective improvisation. Led by trumpeter and composer Adam Sass, People In Orbit were formed in late 2020 with the intention of reimagining the classic jazz quintet with a contemporary edge. The group prioritises space, interaction, and ensemble balance, allowing composed material and collective responsiveness to shape the music. Alongside Sass, the band features Edvin Ekman (tenor saxophone, effects), Niklas Bergström (piano, Moog, keyboards), Edvin Elmersson (double bass), and Frank William Reis (drums). Viewpoint is a concept-driven album centred on perspective; how different viewpoints influence the way events are interpreted, and how perspective can foster connection or distance. Much of the album is built around Cycles, a four-part suite composed from a graphic score, with each section representing a different human life and its relationship to the surrounding world. The album moves through shifting emotional and psychological states, from curiosity and tension to reflection and release. Perspective is explored not only through human experience, but also via non-human viewpoints - including music inspired by deep-ocean communication between whales and slow, drifting motion. Musically, Viewpoint continues People In Orbit"s blend of modern jazz-rock and electronics, while drawing influence from the Scandinavian jazz quintet tradition of the 1960s. The music balances structured composition with openness, allowing individual voices to exist within a clearly defined collective sound. With Viewpoint, People In Orbit presents a focused and cohesive statement - an album shaped by shared intent, conceptual clarity, and a continued commitment to collective expression.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

Two Lisbon mainstays from contiguous generations join forces as Scam Dust for the new Paraiso record: Tiago, Lux Fragil resident, world-renowned DJ's DJ and all-round music whizz plus Shcuro, Paraiso's co-founder, scene documenter and impeccable selector & producer. Funnily enough they also live in contiguous beach towns in the outskirts of the capital, Parede and Carcavelos. That's where they zig-zagged amid home-studios and, four hands in various machines, concocted this refreshingly to-the-bone record. Like a non-local entanglement between Lisbon, Sheffield, The Hague and somewhere in the American Midwest, 'Gastric Pulse' EP opens with a saturated, modulated acid line over a tight, industrial-tinged techno beat, peppered with sonic dirt of the highest order. It sounds like music projects like Downwards and Mathematics would put out. 'Enzyme Breaks' follows suit with a comparably raw spirit, adding some mysterious atmospheric scintillation and drum variations. A certain recluse techno (is that a thing?) comes to mind (and heart), Unit Moebius style. Toms abound in 'Pepsin Drive' - always a promising sign in our book - and the playfulness continues in the cheeky bassline and the intricate clap work. Soulful stabs give the tune extra magic via the mantra-like structuring power of repetition. The final track in the record comes from Pacific North-West transplant Doc Sleep and her collaborator Elias FS step in for remix responsibilities and flip the B1 into a hypnotic, dubby - and yes, jazzy - piece complete with a dive into glitchy, sonic sculpture territories towards the end of the arrangement. Quite the brilliant take. Music still counts (and always will), after all is said and done - and nothing like two hard-working music-makers to remind us of that.

LIMITED POSTER EDITION (inclusive stickers)

From the dark circuitry of the American underground, Signal 72 transmits a raw message through Zodiak Commune Records. Loosing The Station is not about losing control, it's about releasing it. Letting the system breathe, unhooking from order, and giving the machines room to speak in distortion and pulse.

The sound is intense and immersive: heavy electro rhythms, dense sub pressure, and acidic 303 lines that twist through the mix like voltage on the edge of overload. It's the friction between chaos and precision, mechanical yet human, destructive yet alive.

Each element feels driven by instinct and recorded in the moment. The result is a tense, physical energy that connects directly to the roots of underground electronics, the sound of resistance, transmission, and release.

Broken symmetry. Acid eternal.

Samuel Kerridge, with his signature sonic arsenal, stands alone in the worlds of rhythm and noise. A singular artist, his music is to be appreciated on its own terms. Here, he returns to James Ruskin's Blueprint Records with the eleven track album, "Memoir Of Disintegration".

The British producer has been carefully turning techno inside-out for over a decade. Taking a distinctly post-punk approach to the genre, he has become an integral part of Regis' legendary imprint Downwards. Kerridge has helped to define the label's contemporary sound: broken techno and snarling punk, informed by industrial music and metal.

Samuel Kerridge has released seven EPs and five albums (including a collaboration with Dva Damas' Taylor Burch) and his recent, "Kick To Kill", has become something of a statement of intent, blossoming into a new label and event series with a focus that broadens beyond techno tracks into full-blown song writing. Aside from his solo work, he collaborates with OAKE in what he describes as the "power metal techno" duo UF, and has recently started his own guitar band, Death Disco.

Kerridge ran the Berlin-based Contort label and party series and curated the legendary Berlin Atonal festival for three years, underlining his credentials as a stalwart figure in the world of experimental, boundary-pushing techno. He's also an accomplished live performer, most recently developing a hybrid live-DJ set that dismantles hundreds of tracks into a sampler to make new music in real time. It's an inventive process that places him in the lineage of iconic and ground-breaking techno acts, while still carrying the flag for the darkest corners of underground electronic music.

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Mord
Rotterdam
Herdersmat
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On this ep he revisits his adolescence: playing fps games and going to raves in the late 90s. The album contains 8 dj friendly tools inspired by early Downwards and Purpose Maker releases.

Members of Papir & Causa Sui travel through new musical realms. 3 musicians with their own compass: Martin Rude & Jakob Skøtt have shared a wide range of musical quests: from Causa Sui’s “Bitches Brew of Stoner Rock” crossing the folk meditations of Sun River and arriving most recently as members of the pre-fusion electric dealings of the London Odense Ensemble. Papir guitarist Nicklas Sørensen is not merely adding a new layer to an established duo, but his presence to the party have brought it into more meditative dwellings. These pieces move slowly, evolving like the slow growth underneath the ground. Whereas Causa Sui & Papir have always excelled at blistering panoramic and often sundrenched sounds, Edena Gardens take a dive inwards and downwards rather than outwards. But there’s also an electrically charged ecstatic rawness to the dealings. Like Æther, the 10 minute opener’s 2 guitars-and-a-drum kit improv, finding it’s way from tumbling drones into monolithic slow riffage. Elsewhere, we find trails of electronic vapors, misfiring bursts of noise and slow drones stretched out. Edena Gardens is a thing to be experienced first hand - it’s not for everyone, but those who decide to stay are greatly rewarded. It’s a debut unlike any other record on El Paraiso, perhaps unlike any you’ve ever heard. Welcome to Edena Gardens. Tracklist: 1. Aether 2. Sliding Under 3. The Canopy 4. Hidebound 5. Now Here Nowhere 6. Iod 7. An t-eilean Dubh