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At the foot of the mountain. Our gaze is inclined toward the summit.

Toward the ascent. The destination that awaits us.

From the valley, we look up at the summit: our destination. But also the path: the true destination.

We can already trace our route, and we are already imagining ourselves walking up there. Along the small ridge, just above the tree line. There, we take a short break and look for the exact spot in the valley where we were standing earlier. It is strange to grasp that we have actually climbed this mountain. To look down from up here at the place where we were just moments ago – the same place we looked up from, toward the place where we are standing now.

And now, knowing what it is like to be up here, we remember what we imagined it would be like back then. What we believed it would mean to stand here.

Along the way, our gaze wanders back and forth. Up toward the mountain, down into the valley, sometimes only at our shoes. We keep walking, one step after another. Our thoughts detached. Our body functioning purely mechanically.

Step left. Step right. Step left. Step right.

Our mind has completely detached itself, and our thoughts race at an immense speed. They summon the most different moments. Moments from our lives. Moments that shaped us, that made us who we are. Or are we perhaps simply trying to understand who we are and how we got here?

It is strange that reaching the summit and looking down could make us believe that we have finally reached, or are striving toward, some superior, triumphant position. When in fact, it is really only about looking at the path we inevitably have to take. Processing impressions from a certain distance. Reconsidering what we have experienced, without losing sight of what lies ahead.

Our gaze turns back toward the summit.

Is there a destination?

An ascent? A summit? A descent? The return?

Or is it only about the insights we encounter along the way?

Am Fuß des Berges. Unser Blick ist zum Gipfel geneigt.

Auf den Aufstieg. Das Ziel, das uns erwartet.

Vom Tal aus blicken wir auf den Gipfel: unser Ziel. Aber auch den Weg: das wahre Ziel.
Unsere Route kann man jetzt schon abstecken, und wir stellen uns bereits vor, wie wir dort oben laufen. Über den kleinen Grat, leicht oberhalb der Baumgrenze. Dort machen wir eine kleine Pause und suchen genau die Stelle im Tal, an der wir vorhin noch standen. Es ist verrückt, zu begreifen, dass wir diesen Berg tatsächlich hinaufgestiegen sind. Von hier oben auf den Ort hinunterzusehen, an dem wir eben noch waren – an denselben Ort, zu dem wir hinaufgeblickt haben, als wir noch dort unten standen.
Und jetzt, da wir wissen, wie es ist, hier oben zu sein, erinnern wir uns daran, was wir uns damals darunter vorgestellt haben. Was wir geglaubt haben, es würde bedeuten, hier zu stehen.

Unterwegs wandert unser Blick hin und her. Hinauf zum Berg, hinunter ins Tal, manchmal nur auf unsere Schuhe. Wir gehen weiter, einen Schritt nach dem anderen. Unsere Gedanken losgelöst. Unser Körper funktioniert rein mechanisch.
Schritt links. Schritt rechts. Schritt links. Schritt rechts.

Unser Geist hat sich völlig losgelöst, und unsere Gedanken rasen mit einer ungeheuren Geschwindigkeit. Sie rufen die verschiedensten Momente herauf. Momente aus unserem Leben. Momente, die uns geprägt haben, aus denen wir geworden sind, wer wir sind. Oder versuchen wir vielleicht einfach nur zu verstehen, wer wir sind und wie wir hierhergekommen sind?

Es ist schon seltsam, dass das Erreichen des Gipfels und der Blick nach unten uns glauben lassen könnten, dass wir endlich eine überragende, triumphale Position erreicht haben oder anstreben würden. Dabei geht es doch eigentlich nur um den Blick auf den Weg, den wir zwangsläufig beschreiten müssen. Eindrücke mit etwas Abstand zu verarbeiten. Erlebtes noch einmal Revue passieren zu lassen, ohne den Blick nach vorne zu verlieren.

Unser Blick wendet sich wieder dem Gipfel zu.
 Gibt es ein Ziel?
Einen Aufstieg? Einen Gipfel? Einen Abstieg? Die Rückkehr?
 Oder geht es nur um die Erkenntnisse, die uns unterwegs begegnen?

Best known for his frankly insane 32-year Subculture residency at Glasgow's legendary Sub Club, Domenic Cappello also played a foundational role in 20/20 Vision's early days as part of Urb n Ri alongside founder Ralph Lawson and Carl Finlow. Space City revives that out-of-print cult classic with a fresh remastering of 'Dream of a Groove' and 'Aquans Realm'. Next to those, the team have unearthed two lost DAT cuts in 'Marvin' - a loosey-goosey and beautifully deft melodic dreamer - and 'Nice n Slow,' a more angular slow-motion workout. Classic US deep house tropes and jazzy invention characterise what a super tasteful EP is.

NYC dance music legend Joey Longo has been a part of the dance music soundscape for those in the know from way back when, his first records surfacing in 1989 under a variety of monikers and on a slew of labels out of NYC.

One of his lesser known aliases was Dreamhouse, which only produced two tracks Jump & Prance and I Can Feel It, both in 1990 and contained here on this official reissue. Special mention to the Dream Mix which has long been sort after by collectors and DJ's worldwide and repressed here for the first time since it's original release in 1990. Finally an opportunity to own a slice of Joey's signature raw New York sound.

Function has long since cemented his legacy in the underground world but it's always worth reminding yourself where an artist's story began. In David Summer's case, that's with this EP, which dropped on Damon Wild's Synewave, who now reissue it in full, 30 years on. It's an impressively fully-formed sound for a debut: 'F1' is a jacked-up techno rhythm with a fat bassline and frazzled synths that bring it to life. 'F2' is a more experimental and beatless piece with modular pulses, echoing frequencies and decaying sine waves then 'F3 rides a dreamy dub rhythm that undulates gently amid some gorgeous sustained pads that recall Thebes of Detroit. 'F4' comes with more Millsian-style minimal that fires up your brain.

Delsin is pleased to announce the second volume of their extensive compilation series combing through the catalogue of landmark Dutch techno label Djax-Up-Beats. The series, curated by Rush Hour co-founder Christiaan Macdonald, continues with a look at the label's legacy in the development of Dutch techno through the early 90s. This second volume in the Djax-Up-Beats 1990-2005 series comprises 25 tracks, presented again as a main triple-vinyl album plus three additional 12" EPs. The compilation also features again all-new illustration from Alan Oldham, design by Lost Communication and liner notes from music journalist Oli Warwick. Crucially, every track featured on the series has been carefully mastered by Johanz Westerman, bringing the best out of tracks that often had very little post-production treatment before they were originally pressed to wax. Volume 2 - The NL Connection takes a deep dive in the development of Dutch techno. Saskia Slegers didn't run her label with a specific focus on any one place, but she naturally connected with artists close to home. Emergent producers from across the Netherlands found a vital outlet in Djax-Up whether they were short-lived dabblers or dance music devotees on their way to lifelong careers. Volume 2 - The NL Connection looks at the first outings in Dutch techno by originators such as Stefan Robbers as Terrace, Dylan Hermelijn as Planet Gong and Edge Of Motion (with Gert-Jan Schonewille) and Sander Friedeman as Random XS. Whether it was sensitive, melodious machine dreaming, gnarly acid tweaking, jackhammer techno or oddball outliers, you could count on Slegers' label to point you to the best underground club music coming out of the Netherlands. With four more, equally extensive, volumes to come in this series, Djax-Up-Beats 1990-2005 is a thorough exploration of a true totem of techno culture -- a renegade label that operated on its own terms and carried surprises and slammers in equal measure.

After a five-year-long hiatus, CVBox is back with six tracks between techno, acid, electro and IDM that are more suited to those super dark times we're currently living through than ever before. On "Pattern Based On", the Dresden-based artist and long-running Uncanny Valley-comrade (four EPs and one album) proves that he hasn't lost his touch when it comes to creating electronic cyberspaces that might drive you mad a bit. With majestic sounds and constantly evolving arrangements, the tracks are strangely entertaining on the dancefloor while you can't help but still feel a queasy sensation in your stomach. While some describe the tunes as milky, permeated by translucent membranes, for others they are an aural embodiment of urban landscapes in the post-apocalypse. Only two things are true: No one sounds like CVBox and all his tracks sound like CVBox. The title refers to structures derived from repetitions, sequences and, indeed, patterns. Although the sounds within these patterns usually follow clear paths, they are allowed to overlap and falter. At the same time, it is music through which CVBox comes to terms with his time as a paramedic. The artwork extends this idea with a special twist. A medical-based test pattern with its clinical functionality is set against a backdrop that is clearly placed in a natural environment. A process that creates a kind of artefact and triggers immediate reflection on what will remain of us many decades from now. What role will music play in defining this?

Take a trip back to the golden age of popular music with Golden Oldies, a 2LP collection bringing together 40 timeless favourites from the 1950s and early ’60s. Featuring legendary artists including Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, Sam Cooke, The Everly Brothers, Roy Orbison, Chuck Berry, Etta James and Bobby Darin, this hit-packed set captures an unforgettable era of rock ’n’ roll, pop, soul and rhythm & blues. Highlights include Johnny B. Goode, Heartbreak Hotel, The Wanderer, Mack The Knife, Crying and Smoke Gets In Your Eyes – classic recordings that still sound as good today as they ever did.

Die Legenden der elektronischen Musik, Soft Cell, bestehend aus Sänger & Frontmann Marc Almond und Multiinstrumentalist & Produzent Dave Ball, veröffentlichen mit "Danceteria" ihr sechstes und letztes Studioalbum - zugleich ein Liebesbrief an das New York der frühen 80er Jahre, wo Soft Cell ihre ersten drei Alben aufnahmen. "Danceteria" ist ein großartiger, stilvoller und verspielter Abschied von 47 Jahren gemeinsamer Musikgeschichte von Marc & Dave als Soft Cell und präsentiert Darbietungen, die für die Karriere dieser Electro-Pop-Legenden prägend sind. Mit Anklängen an Sparks und die Pet Shop Boys sowie Texten, für die Lady Gaga töten würde, nimmt das Album den Hörer mit auf eine lebendige Reise durch einen Tag im New York der frühen 80er Jahre – eine Reise, die rund um die Uhr von der Nacht über den verschwommenen Tagesanbruch bis zum direkten Wiedereintritt in den Club führt.

"Danceteria" ist gleichermaßen eine Hommage an den verstorbenen, großartigen Dave Ball. Dieses letzte Album gehört zu den letzten Werken, an denen Ball als Co-Autor und Produzent mitwirkte, bevor er am 22. Oktober 2025 auf tragische Weise viel zu früh verstarb. Marc Almond führte die Reihe der Nachrufe an und bezeichnete Dave als "geniales musikalisches Genie". Die weltweiten Medien und Musikstars wie Neil Tennant & Chris Lowe (Pet Shop Boys), Daniel Miller (Mute Records), Cabaret Voltaire sowie Richard Norris aus Daves Techno-Duo The Grid würdigten ihn voller Anerkennung und Wehmut als Pionier der elektronischen Musik. Dave stellte "Danceteria" zwei Tage vor seinem Tod fertig, und ganz in seinem Sinne wurde die Veröffentlichung des Albums wie geplant durchgeführt. Auch aufgrund von Daves Tod muss "Danceteria" zwangsläufig das letzte Soft Cell-Album sein, wie Marc erklärt: "Ohne Dave kann es keine weiteren Aufnahmen von Soft Cell geben; das wäre schlichtweg unmöglich. Die traurige Realität ist, dass Dave Ball die eine Hälfte von Soft Cell war, und abgesehen von Live-Auftritten kann ich ohne ihn keine Soft-Cell-Songs schreiben."

Dich lieb ich, Erde! trauerst du doch mit mir! Und unsre Trauer wandelt wie Kinderschmerz In Schlummer sich und wie die Winde Flattern und flüstern im Saitenspiele

The third stanza of Friedrich Hölderlin’s poem ‘Dem sonnengott’ evokes a narrator who is tortured by Spleen until slumber makes his childlike gloom disappear with music. Although today’s readers might judge these nineteenth century musings of the Imagination as mere stylistic platitudes, they also still speak beyond the grave as universal truths. A mere two hundred years later similar anxieties and hopes are still channeled through various art forms, with changing success and reverberation. Brannten Schnüre are one of those neo-romantic music experimentalists who add to a long tradition of celebrating folk tale and exoticism. Their meticulously crafted loops, hesitant melodies and heavily nostalgic lyricism could easily be translated to what the late philosopher and music critic Mark Fisher called ‘hauntology’, a postmodern longing for a lost future. To describe the beauty of ‘Geträumt hab’ ich vom Martinszug’, however, the term seems somewhat dissatisfying. Romanticism is a hard nut to crack in the Anthropocene, and Brannten Schnüre’s realms of the cerebral are too deeply ingrained in a German tradition of story telling to define them within popular paradigm.

‘Geträumt hab’ ich vom Martinszug’ was recorded in 2014 in Würzburg and functions as the autumn part of the band’s seasonal cycle quadrilogy (the other segments being ‘Aprilnacht’ (SicSic), ‘Sommer im Pfirsichhain’ (Aguirre) and ‘Durch unser zugedecktes Tal’ (Youdonthavetocallitmusic)). It deals with the Saint Martin’s parade, a mostly European tradition to celebrate the medieval spirit of Saint Martin of Tours, friend of children and patron of the poor. Around 11 November children come out on the streets with lanterns and sing ancient songs in exchange for sweets. It’s a period of snugness and expectation, of yearning and dreaming, and therefore a consummate subject for the duo to scrutinize.

To the adult’s ear the dream of the Saint Martin’s parade isn’t all that consolatory. The dark and slow loops of Christian Schoppik rather sound like motifs for a welcome paralysis. Sometimes as a gentle backdrop for vocals by Katie Rich and Schoppik himself, the repetitive structures serve as tricksters that trade innocence for the uncanny. The dream becomes a fever dream which quickly absorbs the listener into a vacuum, an eternal post-panic attack semi-relief. Maybe that’s the amazing paradox of Brannten Schnüre. The space they occupy is never comforting – as if being locked up inside a Carl Grossberg painting – but it’s also a subliminal aural zone you do not want to leave. It’s music as being, as a stream, devoid of climax or catharsis. And because it is flux and being, and exists to be taken, it speaks in art’s purest form. ‘In place of a hermeneutics we need an erotics of art’ Susan Sontag famously concluded her essay ‘Against Interpretation’ with. Well, look no further …

byt’ continues its eclectic journey with the third release in its catalogue. This chapter sees the return of Telva, shifting into a new frequency with a story born between 11.11 and a full Taurus moon back in 2024 in Berlin. The composition recorded in a single take, is articulated through a dreamy, electronic, minimal house, and vocal infusion. Left as romantic and unrestrained as the artist’s reverie, it is preserved in its raw form to protect its intimacy.

“Every record I make is a guide towards a better understanding of all that I can be. 11:11 is a fragment of a special spark I experienced, which peeled back another layer of myself enriched by the lessons along the way, until finally holding it in my hands today. What started as an epiphany on Heideglühen’s dance-floor unfolded into a kiss of destiny, a fleeting delirious love affair, and a quest of passion that hugged my memory, compelling me to revisit my early days. An endeavor of surrender, no matter how unknown, unconventional or uncertain it all may feel. To finally have the courage to let it be messy, raw and true, so that I stand naked once again, while daring to honor the absence of order as part of the magic and mystery of life.” - Telva

Listen!

Klara Lewis’ distinctive talent for disfiguring sound into forms that remain recognisably song-like reaches a new peak here. Her new album Opening is a deceptive recording with veiled melodies and clandestine bangers.

Lewis, creator of worlds, treats music as a mirror that reflects a perspective misaligned with the real image. Her music moves in unusual and often startling ways. Acoustic instruments such as ukulele and piano are subjected to processes of deconstruction and reconstruction, their original forms continually reshaped.

The tracks within Opening offer an array of disorientating tactics; damaged field recordings are suddenly sliced into ominous rhythmical patterns whilst deceptively simple tactics provide foreboding dread. Often alien on entry, the progression of a piece can land in a surprising tenderness, or the other way around. The momentum grows as a physical state but also one which is questioning, desiring, encapsulating a feeling, to explore a further way of expression and ultimately connecting: A new closeness, a new perspective.

Opening is an album in which the protagonist’s manipulation of sonic matter seems to extend beyond the music itself, resulting in a corresponding manipulation of the active listener. Sounds shift, dissolve, and re-emerge in altered forms, creating an experience that feels both intimate and disorienting. Lewis maintains a delicate balance between abstraction and emotional immediacy, drawing the listener into a world where familiar musical gestures are constantly reconfigured in surprising ways.

The works on Opening are refracted through an exploratory and transformative lens, suggesting an artist continuing to redefine the possibilities of musical language as a space where the instantaneous and the eternal come together.

Music by Klara Lewis. Mastered by Stephan Mathieu. Cut by Andreas Kauffelt at Schnittstelle, Berlin. Artwork by Klara Lewis. Design by Klara Lewis & Nik Colk Void. Images from ”En Masse” by Circa, directed by Yaron Lifschitz. Dancer Holly-Rose Boyer.

Published by Mute Song. Released by Editions Mego© 2026

”Tide” commissioned for compilation album "Dissolving Strawberry" (2020), released by Irrlicht. ”Drip” and ”Feel” originally composed for the film ”Failed Emptiness” (2024) by Mika Taanila.

Partner in crime: Hampus Högberg.

Somehow it feels fitting that 1+1 equals not only 11, but also the two slabs of vinyl carrying Henry Hodson’s music here. A small inside joke, perhaps, but also a sign of how naturally this record came together: instinctive and shaped with intention. Hodson — who first appeared on Limousine Dream and later with a subtle and beautifully controlled EP via Silky Beats — continues his trajectory between deep house warmth and minimal clarity. These six tracks are drawn with the sort of fine-grained rhythmic detail that rewards attention without ever demanding it. Light-footed percussion, elegant restraint, grooves that breathe. The double 12’’ format isn’t a gimmick; it’s a commitment. Each track gets the physical space and sonic depth it needs.

Quiet, from the Latin quies, evokes a state of being still. In its verb form, quiet means to clear so that something can gradually come into focus. Kind Stranger by Amedeo Cappelletti is where quiet materializes in a more transient, even foreign, way. Each track takes a step back from noise, borne out of a slow return to music, a different pace, and a familiar place left behind for years.

Kind Stranger, released on Aurora Edition on July 24th, is about the strangeness of a return. Cappelletti's melodic scores work their way between faint noise and disquiet, and sonically muse upon the familiar. That is, when given enough time and distance, the familiar can become unrecognizable, demanding stillness to resituate oneself within it.

The album began taking shape when Cappelletti performed at Aurora Edition at Silent Green, just after he had returned to music following a three-year hiatus. In one month, he wrote forty-five minutes of new material from scratch. Then Cappelletti left Berlin after eight years and returned to the Tuscan countryside where he had grown up, back into slowness.

The album develops as an atmosphere in the truest sense. Resampled voices, found sound, and years of sound design practice converge as compositions form by overlapping texture with spatial depth. Kind Stranger cultivates a quietude that envelops the listener.

Vocal recordings made with Matthew Walsh and Sarah McInerney, collaborators Cappelletti met by chance in a Berlin ice cream shop, appear throughout the album like a current, shaped during a residency at MONOM, Berlin's spatial sound institute. Thematically, the record moves through digital addiction, fragmented attention, and the grief of work done in the darkness.

Kind Stranger is an offering to whoever finds themselves here within the quiet, in this particular quality of sound between return and lingering.

Almost 20 years on, Washington-based Drew Sullivan's 2007 debut as Slow Dancing Society hasn't dated the way you'd expect. The Sound Of Lights When Dim is a reserved work with reverberating guitar drifting through broad, unhurried tones. On opener 'Be There' reversed guitar and blurred vocal traces dissolve before they resolve on 'The Delicate Sound Of Silence.' It's deeply emotional ambient with endless oceanic scale and plenty of encouragement to reflect on your own. The glowing synths, patient guitar work and preoccupation with memory that would define Sullivan's next two decades are all present from the start and still have the same lasting impact.

The A-side delivers two sublime cuts drenched in that unmistakable Italo-Balearic magic. Warm chords, sun-kissed melodies and effortless grooves transport you straight back to the golden days of mid-'90s Italian house music. Eyes closed, you're cruising along the Riviera with the top down, lost in pure bliss.
Flip it over and the mood shifts firmly toward the dancefloor.

The B-side explores deeper territory, moving through a range of shades while keeping things locked into a tough, clubfocused framework. There's a distinct New York stomp running through these tracks—driving, hypnotic and full of attitude— yet they never lose the emotional depth and musicality that have become a Westcoast Goddess trademark.

Just when you think the journey is complete, the EP saves its ace for last. Closing things out is a hypnotic funk groove built around silky Rhodes, a tight rhythm section and an iconic bassline—a fitting finale that leaves a lasting impression. A seriously strong package from start to finish, and another essential chapter in the ever-expanding world of D3 Elements.

Nu Vision is the latest project of Duke Cooper, band leader and label boss of Nation, Kode and DirtyBlends. There are three humans who make up Nu Vision, and they all have their own stories and discographies, records released on labels you might know, gigs played in Chicago or Berlin or someone’s loft, lives lived, friends made, sleep lost - fighting for theirart, standing by truths, defending voices, honoring progenitors, whilst pushing a new paradigm. Time is both fleeting and heavy for us all, but it is not without receipts.

Nu Vision is a band in the classic do-you-believe-in-alchemy sense - equal parts rhythm, damage, and deep feeling. Drenched in nostalgia and futurism, The Seed is a singularity of sound + vision; as if heavily rotated by VJ Dave Kendall on MTV’s 120 Minutes but materialized via today’s technology.

The Seed 10 inch provides additional music inspired significant icons Section 25, Liaisons Dangeruses and Adrian Sherwood having paved the way with their prior successes..- this package of The Seed is no freshman effort; but rather, a masterclass in continuing sonic education, delivering a unified experience from beginning to end. A NU VISION.

The Seed 10 inch provides additional music inspired significant icon band: Section 25 from the period of 1981-1984 with a more electronic-dance direction, process which culminated in the album ' From the Hip ' and remix single "Looking From A Hilltop", both released in 1984 as "Insecure Man is about being true to manhood with Robert Lane leading the charge with his vocabulary message of the current state of society.

Insecure Dub focuses on the period of 1981-1984 with an alternative electronic-dance direction process as an inspired blueprint from Nu Vision inspired from Adrian Sherwood having paved the way with his individual success.

Inspired from electrifying songs produced by Chrislo Haas (DAF) and Beate Bartel (Mania D. / Matador) reinforced by Krishna Goineau’s French and Spanish Speech-Attack-Lyrics Liaisons Dangereuses created a unique style anything other than a Berlin or Düsseldorf ‘thing’ – that was propelled to an international underground phenomenon of fame.

Nu VIsion was inspired to create a blueprint from the period of their productions of 1981-1982 with an electronic-dance direction paying homage with passionate craftsmanship utilizing what equipment was possible in the studio at the time of this recording featuring new members; Zoe Murphy & Fletch The Stranger on vocals and James Chazz on Saxaphone with a Ring Modulator.

We are in-between again: FELT founder Fergus Jones surfaces on his own label for the first time with this dreamy, dubby pair of introspective tracks featuring the hazy, elegiac vocals of Thomas Bush, back on FELT after 2023's split cassette with Princess Diana of Wales. The results of a three-day studio bender in Copenhagen, Bush's entrancing vocals gesture towards the unchangeable past and unknowable future, creating a vital, pumping circulatory system of sound, further supported by the saxophone of Italian-Danish artist Francesca Buratelli and the (vinyl debut) of New York's Yumi with a notable interjection on "Untitled (Mix 1)”.



Written, produced and mixed by Fergus Jones & Thomas Bush

Saxophone on Untitled (Mix 1) by Francesca Burattelli

Additional vocals on Untitled (Mix 1) by Yumiko Mannarelli

Mastered by Amir Shoat

"John Beltran joins forces with Ireland’s Intrinsic Rhythm for a masterclass in emotional Detroit Techno with his "Roots EP" featuring a deep & soulful remix from Fireground.

Few names command the same reverence in electronic music as John Beltran. Since pioneering the more melodic, ambient-soaked textures of Detroit techno in the 1990s and 00s, the Michigan producer has spent over three decades crafting electronic music with an unmistakable human soul.
For his latest outing, Beltran links up with Irish imprint Intrinsic Rhythm for a physical and digital release after previously providing a remix for IR004 . The A1 "My Faith In You" is a perfect distillation of his signature sound: lush, cinematic chord progressions, propulsive rhythm arrangements, and that deep-running emotive warmth that makes his catalog timeless and this continues on the A2 with "Gratiot" a timeless piece of Deep Detroit Techno with a shuffling groove and precise tones and textures.

Sharpening the edge of the package is a stellar remix from dynamic Italian duo Fireground. Known for their driving, soulful and rich sound on labels like Tresor and Ilian Tape, Fireground adds a deeper more textured version of "Gratiot" and reconstructs it into a sun drenched musically rich remix. Together, the release forms a beautiful bridge between the two artists. "

This is the sound of dream Texas, the cinematic Texas conjured in film and 20th century literary and art myth… big dark blueing horizons swallowing the infinite distance, a lonely poetry of sound, but also a stock taker of the iconoclastic, psychedelic, art rebel side of Texas… the cracked rock music side of Texas, the avant-garde in concrete cracks, the recklessly used, mind expanding drugs Texas, the dripping eastern swamps, the Houston house parties with the sounds of records blasting down the block and becoming musique concrète in the hot summer night.

Chrome Chasm’s debut album Interpreter is ambient, minimal in feel, maximal in texture, beautifully disorienting, vastly spacious— until it isn’t. It's a naturalistic shapeshifter, taking majestic form in the aforementioned elements and then dissolving back to raw genetic material to form anew. Spiritual jazz overtones, pedal steel moans and buzzing, noisy ambient visions are upended by grey-folded psychedelic unveilings. Interpreter’s three expansive tracks present a most detailed performance by its three deft musicians and the outcome often feels like a gorgeous collage in real-time.

Chrome Chasm was formed in 2024 by three of Houston’s brightest underground stars: Mlee Marie (Hearts Of Animals) on alto saxophone, flute and voice (whose long-form experimental sax performances helped inspire the formation of the band), Will Adams (Lower Dens/ Ka-Nives) on pedal steel, synth, percussion and voice, and Tom Carter on guitar. Carter has been casting a long shadow over Texas psychedelia and American underground music for over 3 decades, most notably with the Houston based Charalambides, a powerful creative force of the pre-new weird America era of experimental and avant psychedelic music, and most notably since with his solo guitar magnum opus Long Time Underground (which was deemed among the best experimental albums of 2015 by Pitchfork).

Interpreter’s opening track “The Star,” recorded almost completely live in one room and one take, is a 16-minute manifesto on ‘Dream Noir.’ An astute scholar of cross-genre connectivity and the through-lines of kosmische and spiritual-leaning sonic realms can hear echoes of Cluster, the skronk and beauty of Rahsaan Roland Kirk, and the architectural ambient flow of Harold Budd and Philip Glass in the tidal lapping of distorted guitar, mantra-like saxophone and pedal steel flow. From its deconstructed, pastoral opening moments to its proto-electronic center that crests into a bombastic polytonal climax, Chrome Chasm never neglect narrative arc for experimentation and avant technique. In fact, as a group, they effortlessly control, open, fill and contract space in abeyance to emotional vibration. “The Star,” and indeed the album as a whole, feels more like a communion or extended poem, in direct communication with the listener, than it does a ‘captured experience.’

Across the three longform tracks of Interpreter, Chrome Chasm conducts a masterclass in fusing real time performance energy with an abstract, cut-up master’s reimagining of the literal. They demand the listener meet their music with dream logic and then, like the best dream peddlers, they present a labyrinth to fall into and experience, a place where explanation and conclusion become obsolete, and engagement and immersion become sublime.