Cerca:dr delay

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.

Born and raised in Argentina, Morita Vargas is an experimental artist and producer based in Buenos Aires. She manipulates her voice through reverbs, delays and whispers, singing in a self-invented 'language'. The sound of Morita’s voice is a portal into her thriving, dreamlike world brimming, shimmering and beating with unrefined natural sensations which stimulate something primordial yet strangely contemporary.

As far back as 2014 she began work on her first productions - early sketches which later became the basis for ‘8’. It all started off as voice memos on her phone (recorded while roaming the streets and riding the trains of Greater Buenos Aires). Later on, Morita introduced various instruments into her vision: kalimba, harmonica, keyboard, flute, tambourine, chajchas, and cajón. Composed and performed from that period until its original release in 2018, ’8’ features 10 original voice-led compositions that in scope recall evocative portraits of synthesized landscapes and rainforests, attuned to a vibrant modern pulse and enchanting vocals. Morita Vargas “8” has achieved a kind of polyphonic soundscape which evokes unfamiliar realities through voyages within and between the realms of ambient and experimental music.

In numerology the number 8 symbolizes the transition between heaven and earth, the illumination of our infinite capacity for various metamorphoses. Tackling ideas of transformation, mutation, cyclical processes, death, creation, melancholy, and joy, the album you are holding is a monumental and deeply personal statement. You are invited to walk barefoot down the mystical path and indulge in the process of spiritual expulsion and renewal that is ‘8’. The path lies along the route of infinite meanings, somewhere on the border between dream and reality.

Federsen inaugurates his new imprint Alt Dub this May with a split EP comprised of original cuts from himself and Hidden Sequence and a remix of each by the opposing artist.

Over the past decade and a half San Francisco based artist Federsen has been making his mark on the dub infused techno and house sound, delivering his vintage tape delay and analogue gear driven sound via the likes of Silent Season, Greyscale, Lempuyang and Ohm Series among others. Here though, Federsen opens a new chapter with the launch of his own imprint, Alt Dub, which kicks off here with music from himself and Federsen / Hidden Sequence - Positive Charge EP

Köln, Germany duo Hidden Sequence, whose music has found a home on the likes of Mosaic, Lempuyang and more.

Hidden Sequence’s ‘Switch’ leads the release and sees the duo smoothly blending an amalgamation of airy chord sequences, swelling pads, spiralling dub echoes and bumpy bass grooves with a shuffled, stripped back rhythm. Federsen’s ‘Polarity’ follows and dives into darker realms via expansive dub chords, intricately intertwined percussive reverberations, cascading bass flutters and crisp, minimalistic drums.

Opening the flip-side, Federsen interprets Hidden Sequence’s ‘Switch’, shifting the original’s ethereal aesthetic into a haze of billowing atmospherics, delayed percussion and vacillating low-end pulsations. The Hidden Sequence remix of ‘Polarity’ then rounds things out, upping the energy levels with a more upfront, robust rhythmic drive being intertwined with fragments of the original’s haunting textures and subtly unfurling feel.

Bluish Green was 15 + years in the making, passively percolating bi-coastly in the background of three family members' lives, waiting for the perfect opportunity to present itself. That moment came in January 2024 when Ball Sisters & N1_Sound settled into the Spiritual World home base of Studio Z in Toronto, Canada. What started as three casually blissful days, resulted in a debut album, combining a unique blend of dub, neo soul, ambient & downtempo. Bluish Green sits halfway between a low-key dance floor and late night back room.

The album was almost entirely created live in the studio with very little discussion, conversation or conscious direction. There were no goals or future plans, just mutual appreciation for the moment. Repeat takes were few and far between, with the group moving fluidly from one track to the next. This preservation of emotion and human touch is deeply embedded into the music, allowing the listener to share in the raw moments that were experienced while Bluish Green was organically taking shape.

Sonic themes of the natural world run throughout the five song, 30 minute album. “R U 4 Real” welcomes the listener into T3AL’s unique ecosystem with intimate cicade-esque shakers. A reverberous güiro frog (acquired on a family trip one year ago) and synthesized ocean waves create an ambient wetland on the album's 8 minute instrument track “Frog Legacy ''. Bluish Green comes to a shimmering close on “Flip That Switch” with dubbed out crystalline slide-flute melodies resembling ocean birds that fade into an iridescent horizon.

Digital drum patterns skip & stride around contemplative circular lyrical themes on four of the five album tracks, while spatial flute melodies simultaneously spin just under the surface. The bass guitar on Bluish Green is a continuous harmonic support system, repeating on a different tectonic rotation, much slower and deeper, offering familiar footing that stops the listener from drifting out in the rippling undertow of analogue delay feedback.

“R U 4 Real”?... A question that T3AL revisits frequently when thinking of the surreal weekend that resulted in the trio’s debut album, Bluish Green

FTV004 is an artist mini album from Spains Sergio Garcia recording under his Uf0 Alias. His recognisable breaks and electronic melodies keep in style of previous releases on Altered Sense, Further Electronix, Gated and Withhold, which drift in and out of lush pad heaven breakdowns and skipping breakbeats. Limited to 140 copies worldwide on eco coloured vinyl in eitherblue, pink or purple. Comes with an insert instructions of how to make a crop circle/Uf0 landing site. 5/5 reactions from Carl Craig, Ame, Michel De Hey, Doc Scott, Moy, Nick Warren.

“My introduction to “noise” came from a record shop in Lake Worth, Florida ran by a musician named Kenny 5. Kenny had left Detroit sometime in the mid nineties and had begun selling used records and CD’s from the downtown strip of this tiny southern Florida city in a humble shop sandwiched between a deli and a dog grooming business. Kenny previously was on labels like Amphetamine Reptile and timeSTEREO, and the records and videotapes that would be on repeat at his shop were a vast sonic expanse that spoke to the eclecticism of his experience as a touring musician participating and adjacent to American noise culture through the early to late 90’s. In 1998, I was eleven years old and I would order a pizza with him and watch VHS tapes of Japanese noise and deathmatch bootlegs, as well as any other sonic and subcultural rarities that far outstripped my age to comprehend (notably the RRR “Journey Into Pain” compilation and various Vanilla Tapes videos). This widecast net of information formed an introduction to a reality that did not fall deaf on me, but it took many years later for me to reorient the specific freedoms of what this dense and cathartic sound culture had imparted on my life and would continue onward to.

What does this have to do with this selection of choice recordings from the Secret Boyfriend catalog for the enmossed label? For the uninitiated, Secret Boyfriend is the long running moniker of Ryan Martin, North Carolina musician and label proprietor of the Hot Releases imprint. For over a decade from this writing I have watched Secret Boyfriend, and Hot Releases by extension as a curatorial and archival effort, embodying the multiplanal capacity that noise loosely functions from as an umbrella ideology and formalist avenue for sound creation. For anecdotal purposes, from (before) 2006 until roughly 2023 the East Coast of the United States showcased a vibrant network of eclectic regional festivals that saw wide swaths of artists addressing and negotiating the notion of what qualified “noise” from a conceptual and ideological perspective. Some festivals honed in on particularities in aesthetics and tropes, and others had a kind of “catch-all” implementation that allowed for a salvation of the sort of alienated and singular artistry that was amassing throughout these territories. While clear guidelines had been set from regional predecessors as to how noise with a capital “N” should maneuver, Secret Boyfriend is emblematic in the spirit of fluidity that was either implicitly coupled to the notion of the genre, or grew to evolve towards or devolve from.

Within Secret Boyfriend performances, I have seen and admired a mirroring from a ravenous appreciator of this culture at large back towards itself. Typical of a Secret Boyfriend set is an interchangeable narrative arc wherein blistering feedback laden scrap metal improvisations are forayed into naive ambient or “pop” songs, or skipping CDs, or mixer feedback play, or delayed Roland 707 drum workouts all at once and in a unique hegemony. Secret Boyfriend's stylistic mastery of each endeavor is at once an homage to a history of loving listening and enacting, while a brave step into the realm of actualizing the unique fluidity of his own practice. In performance and the action of network engagement, Secret Boyfriend operates a survey of that which he sought to hear and that which he cultivates around his work. His operations are mirrors, and the project (alongside his other peers) is a reflection on the ethos of his time.

Conversely his recording practice narrows in on these moments and allows for a different kind of intimacy or alienation for the non live listener. This record of selected “pop songs” (let's call them that) is particularly poignant at a time when the culture Martin mirrors is at a strange crossroads with itself. The aforementioned festival networks necessarily change and shift. The onlookers become the artists, the artists find new horizons, and the spaces for these cycles fade into locales of a distant memory. It seems, from my perspective, that audiences currently yearn for a more bottlenecked experience, searching for some ontologically vetted manifestation of an idea, of a sound and less for an experience that functions in opposition to our collective banalities. This makes sense in the face of general global catastrophism that plagues us. We need certainty of what something is somewhere, don’t we? Noise as an idea has expanded and contracted to so many iterations of itself it is hard to tell what it even is, and it is particularly difficult to identify in the absence of solid network activations a moment to reflect on its own complexities and nuances. In the face of so much change, I argue that the language of noise culture at large has on one hand become increasingly didactic and predictable, and laughably inclusive and non linear on the other. Probably has always been this way, but now we are in the midst of a moment of extreme access and indexicality, which somehow cauterizes expansion and naivety and chance.

This record highlights the Secret Boyfriend that obscures didacticism by highlighting output that opens up for more challenging catharsis and emotive signal processing. It provides an entry to the materialism of a cultural field full of ecstatic complexity and beautiful inconsistency. In these muted moments Secret Boyfriend has given us over his career we have an argument for evolving languages that further challenge our notions of what is supposed to happen and how it is supposed to be presented. In his more song oriented expansiveness, we can punctuate the ability to think in new modalities. Listening to these recordings reminds me of the polarity of sitting in the record store as a kid and understanding that His Name Is Alive is on 4AD and (gasp!) timeSTEREO. This trite early impression that nothing is really as different as our imaginations might want them to be, and that we can do whatever we want mostly within the creative realms we work through is an important filter to look through Secret Boyfriend as a project and a vessel. If we can achieve abandon and vulnerability through our artistic endeavors, then we have a sound model for, maybe, new potentialities. If that’s too much projection, or just complete liberal bullshit, I am fine with that. Secret Boyfriend's oeuvre at best offers us moments of reprieve to ponder these complexities, or at least a moment to zone out on a drive through North Carolina Highway 54.

You have one pocket of life that you must do whatever you want to inside of. Secret Boyfriend does it affectionately, in a variety of forms, and always with deep sentimentality. These recordings are a wonderful set of songs to begin further investigation from. Thank you Ryan for allowing as many avenues as possible to continue a broad cultural exchange and conversation that intersect and refract while being the kind of artist that is brave enough to not phone in the effort.”

- Nick Klein , May 2024

Out of the murky, mystic world of Komodo Kolektif slides the Gamma Knife.

In the corner of a dank, dark mind, a nebulous notion condenses and solidifies, featureless and blind...and from that Komodo Klay a new kreature is hacked, molded and (mal)formed.

“The foundations of some of these pieces were laid almost a decade ago, others more recently. All of them came into being as sketches intended as Komodo Kolektif tracks to develop but for various reasons this didn't happen. The Seven Heavenly Elements was first presented to the group in 2019 but partly through personal differences in musical taste as well as COVID throwing a spanner in the works it was put aside and never worked on collectively. The two Disciple of the Drum 'dubs' are essentially rhythm tracks using the rhythm and percussion of Disciple Of The Drone, also from 2019, stripping away the drone, the gamelan melody and finally, even the bass line, which was initially intended to be the fundamental driving force of at least one of these dubs. In the end neither of these two tracks became anything like the idea that I had in mind, but that's how creativity works sometimes. The vocal parts in Cantation Dub were added most recently, just a few months ago. Fire Dub is just an exercise in me trying to rein in some insane delays and barely managing. The Ghost of Water is an anomaly because many of the fundamental parts are taken from the same jam session recorded in 2015 that led to Djakarta 3001 from the first EP. If you listen closely you'll hear Graeme Miller on guitar (back when guitar was still featured in our weekly jam sessions). I discovered this unedited hour-long jam session on an older hard drive in late 2023 and decided to fashion something from it until what became Ghost of Water materialised: the heavily delayed saron instruments, the jaw harp, the percussion and so on. What makes the track an anomaly is that it is in some ways both the oldest and newest piece of the five. The Seventh Element takes one of the seven elements of The Seven Heavenly Elements (in this case the Mopho synth tuned to the Indonesian pelog scale and ran through the Boss DE-200's depth modulator) to which I then added some gong parts and field recordings from Bali.

Once complete, I realised with an album's worth of material sitting there which was more “Komodo Kolektif” than anything I would normally produce solo, there came the problem of trying to work out what to do with this distinctly Komodo-esque, non-Komodo material. I came up with the idea of releasing it under the name Komodo Kuts...but a part of me felt I'd be cashing in on the Komodo name so ditched that part entirely...but the kuts remained, which seemed appropriate when used alongside my Gamma Knife moniker (which has a long story of its own...in a nutshell I had a benign brain tumour which only 1 in 10,000 people get and which is most frequently removed with a gamma knife (radiation). In medical parlance the device used in this treatment is often shortened to GK machine. I had been using the DJ name GK Machine, which came from my signature GK Mackinnon, since 1994, in other words long before this diagnosis. In the end I had brain surgery in Spain without use of gamma radiation...but the synchronicity of the name connection fascinated me nevertheless. Sometimes the world works in mysterious ways).

Lastly, now that I've sent these tracks out into the world, I feel somewhat liberated and can move on from this fairly niche and specific sound. The gamelan instruments have been returned to Gamelan Naga Mas, from who we'd borrowed them, and the masks hung up. This does not mean that Graeme Miller and I won't work together again in future...I'm sure we will...it just means we won't be tied to working within the constraints of gamelan, synths, percussion and dub that we became known for. So stay tuned...surely something lurks around the corner” GKM, November 2024

Building on the promise of his standout Vacuum EP, Brendon Moeller returns to Samurai Music to dial his expert dub techno up to 170 for a full-length trip. Moeller is celebrated as a versatile operator applying cavernous sound design and decades-deep machine soul to a broad sweep of tempos and styles, and his pivot to D&B territory is as natural as it is original. It's a perfect fit on Samurai, where palettes, pressure and rhythms are continually yielding fresh results in this highly fertile zone of modern club music.

It's no secret Moeller is a prolific producer, and following his initial connection with Samurai he offered up a vast folder of tracks created in this latest furrow of his production. The label has since sifted through and puzzled out a sonic narrative, first realised on the Vacuum EP in June 2024 and now extended with Further. For anyone keyed into the deep, techno-informed innovations taking place at 170, there is a logical connection to Moeller's take on the sound, but at the same time these tracks stand apart from anything else out there right now. In the particular textures, the unfolding arrangements and monolithic reverbs Moeller threads together with hypnotic poise, his accomplished legacy shines through.

Whether it's the snarl of a delay feedback pushed a little further, a soaring synth swell sculpted into artful noise or a particular shuffle applied to a particular drum rack, Moeller's tracks unfold with a masterful poise, hitting the sweet spot between club-spirited physicality for the deepest of dance floors and introspective headphone trips. Teeming with detail, swathed in soul and engineered to perfection, the inspiration driving Moeller is palpable across the LP, and it's resulted in some of his finest work in a career studded with highlights.

The newest single from Whodamanny’s Biloba sublabel of Periodica Records is “Volveràn,” a dark and delirious saxophonic strut given four different variations. In the Club version, gang vocals chant to the sky, pads hover like neon mist, and technoid synths twinkle through moonlit boulevards as basslines clad in black leather stomp over a futuristic disco dance. The Radio mix distills these characteristics into sorcerous display of pop songcraft, whereas the Dub goes elsewhere, omitting the sax completely in favor of delayed drum dynamics, cosmic chords climaxes, sunbaked guitar jangles, and vocals shrouded in a hallucinatory haze. And in a bold display of disco house minimalism, the Sax Only cut strips down to saxophone, bass, and drums, with accents of guitar and synth providing subtle pops of color.

Back in 2018, Argentinian producer Fernando Pulichino released ‘Search of Indigo’ on Leng, a shuffling slab of colourful, Balearic-adjacent dub disco featuring his own distinctive lead vocals and backing vocals from Luca Gasparini. Six years on, the track returns renewed and refreshed thanks to a string of new floor-friendly reworks by LTJ Xperience and Pulichino himself. Fernando kicks off the EP with his ‘AM Mix’, an inspired re-invention that re-frames the song as a hard-wired, acid-fired chugger – all restless, razor-sharp TB-303 lines, low-slung bass guitar and sparkling piano riffs. On the digital version of the EP Pulichino has also offered up his ‘PM Mix’, a deliciously Balearic disco dub rich in colourful synth sounds, elastic bass, flanged guitars and sun-bright piano licks. It's LTJ Xperience’s trio of remixes that lie at the heart of the EP though. The Italian producer, real name Luca Trevisi, initially made his name as a downtempo and nu-jazz producer before perfecting a trademark style of chugging, slow-motion hedonism that draws influence from both deep house and nu-disco. His main Remix foregrounds many of these trademark elements, in the process delivering a bongo-rich chugger laden with delayheavy bass guitar sounds, head-nodding drums, heady guitar loops and echoing vocal snippets. On the Dirty Mix, Trevisi reaches for tight, short TB-303 ‘acid’ loops, a more sparse and heavy rhythm track offering a more heads-down, dubbed-out affair that should delight those who love late night and early morning hypnotism with flashes of wide-eyed sonic bliss. Then, to round things off, Trevisi delivers a heady, atmospheric and spaced-out Dub full of jazz guitar licks, bubbling electronics, vocal snippets and effects-laden bass. It’s a winning combination.

12 years after their debut release, Klone, hailing from central France, are back with their 6th studio effort: Here Comes The Sun shows a mature rock band whose musical universe has expanded over the years. When you take a closer look at the band's discography, their progress appears like a logical evolution: each album is unique, and each one has served to make the follow-up less predictable. The band's metal roots have slowly but confidently given way to an ethereal rock sound, substantially vintage but modern in sound and delivery; driven by heavy riffing as much as by delay-soaked guitar-reverie and careful vocal melodies... and while nowadays melancholia is the defining paradigm of the band's sound, Klone exploit a much broader emotional spectrum. 2012's The Dreamer's Hideaway already showed more progressive outlines -- with Here Comes The Sun, the six musicians continue along that path and open up a new chapter in their collective musical journey. This time, the bandreally gives each melody time to unfold... and this is where the strength of this album lies: coherence, patience, continuity. The transitions between riffs and songs never feel rushed or forced -- everything is happening at the right time, and for a reason. The music, the lyrics and the artwork reflect upon one another, and suck the listener into a universe revolving around the sun, which is the central theme of the album. With Here Comes The Sun, the band's songwriting, led by the charismatic voice of Yann Ligner, has reached the next level. Klone have opened for bands like Gojira, King's X and Orphaned Land, and have played the main stage at Hellfest. Here Comes The Sun is the album that will see Klone be thrust into the limelight. It's just too good to be ignored - take a listen, and decide for yourself.

RIYL: Portishead, Thom Yorke, BEAK>, SUUNS, TR/ST, Radiohead. Solo project of Robert Toher who was the creator of ERAAS. Covered by Quietus,Pitchfork, NME, Stereogum, Earmilk, The 405, Clash, BBC Radio, Clash and more.... Public Memory is a mixture of damaged and dubbed-out percussion, unfurling synths and sparse sampling - all strung together by producer Robert Toher's spectral tenor. The project's sophomore LP, Demolition follows 2017's Veil of Counsel EP and 2016's Wuthering Drum LP with cinematic fortitude. While Public Memory's prominent krautrock and trip-hop rhythms are represented here, Demolition explores a greater range of tempos and an expanse of alien emotions with layers of electronic drums, live drums, Korg synths and samples from nature. Themes of rebirth and reflection imbue the album's atmosphere, rich in tape delay, spring reverb, and textures that conjure a sci fi and supernatural narrative. Opener "The Line" sets the album in motion with a driving energy and introspective unease, as if estranged from the world it was created in. A meditation on impending collapse, "Red Rainbow" begins with an arpeggiated melody that hints at a sense of dread. Like the darkness of night descends, the track unfolds with haunting atmospherics and howling synths, finishing with an unexpected climax that ominously builds until at last it falls apart, quickly, softly, without incident. The slowtempoed "Aegis" reflects on the banal reality of love lost, with shuffling rhythms, lingering inflections and a growling synth at its core. Toher's adept use of space and tension articulates the world of Demolition as eerie, emotive, and above all, narcotic. Each track is an existential procession. "Turning out the lights on your illusion," Toher sings to close the album, accepting that change is an inescapable condition of being.

Pain Management presents a debut collaborative release from Bristol’s Larry McCarthy & mysterious newcomer Eris FM. The limited edition single fuses hellish Bristolian dub with tender vocal excursions on two dark cuts in equal parts tough and tender. A heartfelt comedown offering for the hyperactive via two cathartic weapons primed for maximum emotional release.

The A side’s foolish titular opener is a hellish mess of dub delays and eerie narrative exposition. Reminiscent of blown-out early No Corner offerings; a tangled mess of sirens and harsh noise ensnare FM’s disembodied commands. Turn your phone off / Tell no one where you are / Go out / Press your lips to the cracks in the soil. Overtly human exposition shrouded in a plosive shell of sawtoothed frequencies and machine drum paranoia. The effect is an unsettling hybrid of softness and uncertainty. A teeth-grinding mess of grit and potent anxiety primed for anti-dancefloor devastation; one to comfort the disturbed or disturb the comfortable depending on where you’re at.

On the flip ‘Red’ applies this same methodology to a beatless format, noisy chaos swapped out for ascendent grandeur. Here FM’s voice has more room to breathe, floating above an ever expanding synthscape. Reflective prosaic cohesion replaces the A side’s splintered present-tense directives.The rawness remains but on Red it takes the form of a commanding emotive clarity rather than claustrophobic uncertainty. A subtle heartbeat rhythm pulses beneath the nebulous pads, swaying like a slow dance in the early hours.

Hyper-limited run of 100 7” records

Lisbon's Para?so is back with its 14th release 'Crossroads' by local legend-in-the-making Salbany and remixes from portuguese dance music pioneer Cisco Ferreira a.k.a. The Advent and Detroit's own AMX otherwise known as The AM. The record opens with 'My Life', a warm yet propulsive detroit-referencing techno cut with pad washes, shuffling hi hats, an introspective vocal sample, cascading organ solos and arpeggios to a blissful effect. A2 'Crossroads' brings us a raw, bouncy, jam-like rhythmic section with syncopated toms and snares offset by a piano stab motif and emotive strings. 'Next Morning' closes side A, a hypnotic, curveball roller featuring a warm, rolling bass, offbeat drum hits glued together by immersive pads and UR-esque strings. Side B opener 'Mito' delves into trippier territories with admirable skill - not losing an inch in dancefloor potential - fusing bleeps and bells, beautiful chord progressions and hyper groovy drum machine programming. Techno icon Cisco Ferreira steps in with his 'Lisbon Dub' remix, transforming 'Crossroads' into a sparser, delay-infused slow-burner held together by a dope bass line. AMX brings the lead synth of 'Mito' to a lower octave, mutating it into a swingy midwestern experimental cut that inspires urgency and life force. A restless mantra emerges via the digital bonus track, an alternate 'Elevated' remix of 'Crossroads' that superbly merges original detroitian leanings and industrial textures in a no-frills peaktime banger. This is one of those records that lovingly reminds us techno is about emotion, swing, energy. As in life, nothing here sits still: movement, physical and metaphysical, is the messenger of progress.

Closely following the release of the last Borderland single, the focus returns on Transport, the last collaborative album by Juan Atkins and Moritz von Oswald.
Long time friend and studio partner of Moritz von Oswald, Carl Craig provides a new take on 'Transport'. Extending and stripping the original sequence to its bone, the illustrious Planet E president and illustrious Detroit proponent also summons a stepping drum sequence and a swaying array of moving delays.
This 12' edit is cut on the A-side. The full version of Carl Craig's remix clocks just above 20 minutes and is available digitally. Both are available to anyone who purchases the record, through the enclosed download card.

On the flip, DJ Deep & Roman Poncet rework Carl Craig's remix, adding their signature grooves and myriad of tough drums, to full effect.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Blake Lee has always been fascinated by the unknown, and space, in its isolating, mysterious vastness, embodies this theme immaculately. The open void, captured so memorably by Stanley Kubrick in '2001: A Space Odyssey', is Blake's far-reaching canvas on 'No Sound In Space', a cinematic meditation on the cosmos that's painted in nuanced, emotionally sincere colors. The Los Angeles-based composer has been contemplating his full-length debut since 2021, using his guitar as a sonic paintbrush rather than find himself snared in its traditional aesthetic constraints. Transforming its characteristics with effects and subtle processes, he layers sustained tones and intimate improvisations, creating richly visual polychromatic utopias teeming with unknown life.

Since 2011, Blake has been most known for being the guitarist and a music director for Lana Del Rey, notching up three songwriting credits on her acclaimed ‘Ultraviolence’ full length. He sees his solo work is a form of escapism, a place where he can experiment and find comfort and catharsis outside of expectations and formal structure. The album was written instinctively, and Blake made sure he didn't force anything, letting go and getting out of his own way, listening intently as sounds and textures materialized organically. "I didn't want to ruin it by being a perfectionist," he laughs. And his collaboration with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, who runs the OFNOT label and contributes to two of the tracks on the album, occurred similarly organically.

Blake was moved to reach out to KMRU when he caught a performance of 'Natur' at Los Angeles' Zebulon in 2022, leading to a prolonged back-and-forth. They didn't meet in person until earlier this year, by which time they'd become firm friends, continuously sharing music and conversation. KMRU had lent a valuable ear to Blake, who sent early playlists of 'NSIS' that, over the months, slowly evolved into the finished album. It's the first release on OFNOT that's not by KMRU himself; the label emerged last year with the release of KMRU's own 'Dissolution Grip', and Blake's debut immediately expands its sonic universe. Alongside the playlists, Blake also provided KMRU with the tracks' raw stems, which KMRU began to edit and expand in his Berlin studio. 'Miura' and 'Waiting' are the result of this process, two sublime abstractions that augment Blake's dreamlike, euphoric tones with KMRU's pebbly distortions and booming low-end rumbles. And this same playful sense of freeness seeps into Blake's other compositions.

On the misty 'In A Cloud', he surrounds cascading string tones with soft-focus pads that swell until they're like crashing waves, and on the two 'Echoplexx' pieces, he uses delay and reverb to smudge his sounds until they're viscous residue, the harmonies obscured by whooshes of white noise and distant chimes. The mood is quieted somewhat on 'Moving Air', as Blake's swirling tones form half-heard lullabies, coalescing into a dense, melancholy crescendo, and he fills out the sound with reverberant airport recordings on 'Pan Am', letting pitchy My Bloody Valentine-esque drones warble beneath the transitory chatter. Each track melts into the next, forming a billowing, cryptic narrative that leaves more questions than answers. Blake is constantly searching, and fills his unoccupied space with warmth, perception and sensitivity.

Something About Livingis an album of live recordings by experimental jazz composer/multi-instrumentalist Robert Stillman. The music was captured over the course of Stillman's time as the solo support act for The Smile (Thom Yorke, Jonny Greenwood, Tom Skinner). The album weaves excerpts from various theater and arena shows along the tour's North American routing into a seamless whole, creating a 40-minute program that represents an expanded version of Stillman's ever-transforming live set.

Something About Livingis the product of a steady, on-stage evolution that happened over the course of the nearly 60 shows opening for the Smile across the EU, UK, US, Canada and Mexico. However, the creative origins of the set began in relative isolation during the pandemic, through Stillman's work on projects like his multi-media installationUnseen Forcesand his monthly broadcast for Margate Radio, both of which drew upon solo improvisation using saxophone, cassettes, Yamaha DX7 synthesizer, and effects.

"At the time The Smile asked whether I'd like to open for them on their first tour, I felt like I'd already been preparing without really knowing it," says Stillman. "I'd been doing this music constantly, but always for a hypothetical audience" During the pandemic, Stillman's solo set-up served as the research lab where he worked on all the concepts he was interested in: solo improvisation, creating and manipulating cassettes, FM synthesis, analogue delays chains, no-input mixing, and non-metric rhythmic pulses. So when he was offered the first Smile tour, the idea was to bring "the lab" onto the stage.

What Stillman could not have prepared for was the experience of playing in venues with capacities of up to ten thousand listeners. "The first tour was in summer 2022, so not that long after the worst of the pandemic, when I had pretty much made peace with the idea that I might never be able to perform for an audience again. Then all of a sudden I found myself in front of huge numbers of people, and felt the massive responsibility of being with an audience, of this thing I'd done alone for so longactually being witnessed, and it was completely overwhelming!" On the flip-side, Stillman also recalls, was a new appreciation of how powerful the live performance was as a social phenomenon. "It's a cliche, but also true: the moment of making and hearing music in a shared time and space has a very specific meaning and power; there was a sense that everyone in the venue was necessary to make it real, regardless of what they were doing, or how they felt about it. There was an inevitability about it that I'd never fully appreciated."

Over the course of the tours that followed, Stillman transformed this appreciation of the shared moment into an ethic of spontaneity that guided the development of his live set. "An important reference for this set has always been an Animal Collective show I saw when I first moved to New York, probably in 2001 or so, that has always set the high-water mark for what I wanted to do live- they were improvising a lot, and out of what would seem to be absolute chaos they'd find their way to something structured, and then back out again into the unknown. It was so thrilling to witness".

ThoughSomething About Livingcompiles recordings from different dates along the tour, Stillman has edited and mixed them into a work that seeks to reflect the ebb and flow between 'chaos and control' that characterizes his live set. Among the compositions featured are some from previous album releases ("Time of Waves", "What I Owe", "What Does it Mean to Be American") as well as some new compositions ("The Dream of Waking", "Renaissance 2.0," and the title track, "Something About Living").

The album/track title "Something About Living" is a reference to a line from Stillman's favorite film,My Dinner With André: "André Gregory is explaining the value of life experiences that, as he says, are'to do with living'.That really struck me, the way he articulated it. I strongly believe live music situations can ask these kinds of questions, for performers and audiences. I hope that's reflected in this music."

[a] 01: Time of Waves (Live in Miami FL) [Live]
[b] 02: What Does It Mean to Be American (Live in Forest Hills NY) [Live]
[c] 03: The Dream of Waking (Live in St Augustine FL) [Live]
[d] 04: Something About Living (Live in Richmond VA) [Live]
[e] 05: What I Owe (Live in Chesterfield MO) [Live]
[f] 06: Renaissance 2.0 (Live in Chesterfield MO) [Live]

Rediscovered and compiled for release shortly before her death in November 2023, Further Selections from the Electric Harpsichord presents a never-before-heard recording of composer and artist Catherine Christer Hennix's early magnum opus. Originally debuted in 1976 at the festival Brouwer's Lattice at Stockholm's Moderna Museet, The Electric Harpsichord has steadily mystified fans and students of Western minimalist music for its implacable, transformative qualities, and the long-held, relative obscurity of its creator. Like the work of Hennix's close friend La Monte Young, the piece is set in just intonation and focuses on the transcendental potentials of precise tuning, inspired by their studies with Pandit Pran Nath. Composed of bursts of oscillating, synthetic tones using a carefully retuned synthesizer and a tape-based system for feedback delay, the sounds swirl, twinkle, and appear to bend time, space, and perception. Additional, sustained chords on the sheng, most likely played by her Deontic Miracle bandmate Hans Isgren, are present at the opening of the piece and reemerge towards the end of the recording. The release of Further Selections constitutes the most comprehensive original recording of this foundational work to date. Originally billed as The Well-Tuned Organ during its debut in Sweden, The Electric Harpsichord has developed a legendary reputation, predicated on a twenty-six minute fragment salvaged and circulated by Hennix's friend Henry Flynt. Promoting its importance on multiple occasions, Flynt aired the work on WBAI radio, organized a pair of tape concerts at New York alternative arts spaces in 1970s, and later penned a 1998 essay which served as the liner notes to its eventual CD release in 2010. For him, this work not only represented a sterling milestone in minimal sonic aesthetics, but also spawned a new genre that he dubbed "hallucinogenic/ecstatic sound environments (HESE)," which in turn inspired his own drone-like compositions. Gradually, interest in the recording led to a spate of archival projects, public performances, and new compositions by Hennix in the 2010s, in turn drawing into focus her multifarious practice, which includes serious contributions towards mathematics, poetry, sculpture, Noh drama, philosophy, and light art. Since 2018, Blank Forms has spearheaded a comprehensive publication effort in support of her work, including the writing collection Poësy Matters and Other Matters (2018); archival recordings like Selected Early Keyboard Works (2018) and The Deontic Miracle's Selections from 100 Models of Hegikan Roku (2019); and recent compositions such as Blues Alif Lam Mim (2021) and Solo for Tamburium (2023).