Cerca:dream city

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

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

Collapsing new rhythms and industrial visions meet restless melodic vocals on Gateway, the debut album from San Francisco duo YANTRA on Swiss label Subject To Restrictions Discs. This isn’t dance music, but you will dance to it. It isn’t ritual music, but it will channel spirits.

The dreamer is still asleep. She awakens to heed the call. Curious downtempo drums, spartan and potent, animate the body. Running through the city, shadows dance on walls, and alluring voices, whispered, sung, and soaring, possess the mind. At the end of the path, gazing at the mirror’s edge, she finds the source of the voice—and realizes it’s her own.

YANTRA are artist-producer Yaniv de Ridder, also known by the alias YNV, and lyricist-vocalist-instrumentalist Janina Angel Bath. The pair have worked together for some time, beginning with YNV’s 2021 LP Golden Hour Ritual. On Western Paradox, a YNV EP released last year on Subject To Restrictions Discs, Bath contributed vocals—and so YANTRA, the project and the concept, was born. Working together, the pair craft new forms of transcendent sound, timeless and familiar all at once

LOOSE CATTLE, the five-piece roots rock outfit declared "favorite Americana cowpunks in New Orleans" by OffBeat Magazine. work to make music that matters, aligning themselves with, and advocating for, people at the margins of our society. In the band's mind, if "Americana" is to mean anything, it should mean inclusion and a diverse music scene populated by the people the American Dream crushed. The misfits and outcasts are who they sing for, and choose to dance with. On "Someone's Monster", two-time TONY and GRAMMY Award winner Michael Cerveris turns up the volume and the urgency.

What if Japanese city pop met no wave? Neither in your wildest dream such occurrence could be real, but let’s make things clear. Frank Chickens could have been possibly forerunners for several famous alternative bands, Cibo Matto on top of all, but sure had a development on their own. Our history began in London, early eighties, art duo Frank Chickens is the original creation of Japanese performers Kazuko Hohki and Kazumi Taguchi. All of a sudden the band debuts with a pair of singles and a full length on Kaz Records, it’s 1984, but could have been easily 1994. Backed by the likes of Steve Beresford (Alterations, The Slits, General Strike, London Improvisers Orchestra), Annie Whitehead (Penguin Cafe Orchestra, Robert Wyatt), Lol Coxhill, Tony Coe and Clive Bell (the top of the cream of the English avantgarde) the band soon became a case in history. Now we have the pleasure – 37 years after its original release – to reissue their second album: Get Chickenized!

The record came out in 1987 on the british label Flying Lecords and showed a different side of the project, with a major focus on the so-called synth wave counterculture, still maintaining a certain avant feel. With original conspirator Steve Beresford still on board, the band was propelled in the studio by another key figure of the London underground: journalist, composer and producer David Toop. Being John Peel’s favorite for a while, the band built a cult following retaining some absurd live performances, well known for their idiosyncratic choreography. Later revamped in the year 2000 - thanks to cult label Ninja Tune – the band enjoyed a second wave of success, with a remix album featuring the likes of Pizzicato 5, Fink and Neotropic. With a cover embellished by the labor of Pere Ubu David Thomas, this second influential album is finally available for your listening pleasure. Here’s your chance to dive deep into this exotic pop extravaganza.

Robert and Lyric Hood deliver their acclaimed fourth studio album The Master’s Plan on vinyl. This one-of-a-kind pressing features gold foiling on the sleeve and contains two transparent, red-coloured records, loaded with the remaining tracks from the LP that have not yet seen wax. Spanning 14 crafted house and techno tracks, Robert and Lyric playfully juxtapose the light and dark of their signature sound, navigating a spectrum of genres and styles on the revered body of work. The father and daughter duo demonstrate their unparalleled outlook on electronic music, operating on a divine level of blood harmony with their generational gap only strengthening their breadth of musical inspiration. From the dreamy house soundscapes of single ‘Feel It’, to features from Detroit artists Dames Brown, Earthtone and Lowell Pye, The Master’s Plan is an album with its sound deeply rooted in Floorplan’s Motor City home. With Classic remaining the duo’s home for some time since their solo debut on the imprint in 2021, it seems only right that label-mate Honey Dijon would also feature, adding her signature allure to ‘Fake & Unholy’. Described by Robert as “an invitation to eternal salvation”, Floorplan’s faith remains at the forefront of what they do, cementing this special vinyl edition of The Master’s Plan as a must-have for house and techno lovers globally.

Green Day’s seventh studio album American Idiot was released in September 2004 and has since sold over 23 million copies worldwide. The album is a punk rock opera masterpiece that won the Best Rock Album at the 2005 Grammy Awards©. Five hit singles were released from the album: “Boulevard of Broken Dreams”, “Holiday”, “Wake Me Up When September Ends”, “Jesus of Suburbia”, and the title track, “American Idiot”.

Limited Edition Super Deluxe Box Sets (vinyl and CD) will be released on October 25th, 2024, to celebrate the 20th Anniversary of this legendary album.

The CD Super Deluxe contains 4 CDs which feature the original album and also includes 15 unreleased demos, a 15-song 2004 concert from Irving Plaza, NYC (9 songs previously unreleased), and 14 tracks that were released as B-Sides and bonus tracks. The box set is completed with two Blu-rays that feature the film “Heart Like A Hand Grenade”, 35 minutes of Green Day live at the BBC, and a new, unreleased documentary: “20 Years of American Idiot” plus a 48-page book, an enamel pin set, sticker sheet, and cloth patch.

RIYL: Don Cherry, Alice Coltrane, Remi Álvarez, Juma Sultan's Aboriginal Music Society, Horace Tapscott. Atrás del Cosmos were a central force in Mexico City's creative arts community, and often considered the first free jazz group in the country. Founded by a trio composed of pianist Ana Ruiz, percussionist Evry Mann, and saxophonist Henry West, the ensemble was prolific in mentoring a generation of improvisers, cultivating an expanded additive roster, and organizing workshops in downtown Mexico City including inviting Don Cherry to play and instruct on his "organic music" approach in 1977. Between 1977 and 1983, the group lived and rehearsed in a residential space behind the Cosmos theater, hence their celestial-tinged name. But despite their central importance to the local scene, Atrás was rarely recorded and had a scant international presence, leaving behind just a single cassette before their disbandment. Now issued on LP for the first time, the aforementioned tape Cold Drinks, Hot Dreams is a red-hot recording documenting the core group plus double-bassist Claudio Enriquez performing live in 1980, a delirious improvisation with high peaks and low valleys, sucking in an amalgam of influences including New York loft style, Mexican folk music, and the surrealism of Alejandro Jodorowsky into its heady gravitational pull. Ruiz's playing style is virtuosic and expressive, pulling off monumental chords and using the piano's whole register, recalling Cecil Taylor's percussive approach, Matthew Shipp's emotive voicing, and Duke Ellington's mystifying arabesques. Evry Mann dabbles in polyrhythms in tracks like the solo marimba meditation "Clapping Music II," and Henry West wails heavy in the show-stopping cut "M.D." Now finally available after forty years, the music of Atrás del Cosmos will be sure to stun spiritual jazz veterans and newcomers alike3

Repress!

With Robyn, South London's cktrl shares his most ambitious work yet, collaborating with the likes of Duval Timothy, Coby Sey (Micachu, Tirzah, Dean Blunt) and Purple Ferdinand to create a vital exploration of contemporary-classical from the black perspective; out via Errol and Alex Rita's Touching Bass. Spurred on by the overpowering feelings of heartbreak, Robyn impressively creates emotive and heartfelt clarinet and saxophone-led soundscapes about the all-consuming power of love. On the project, cktrl says: "'Robyn' at its core is heartbreak and is just really sentimental. It's a journey of losing a love but it ends with optimism as you find strength to love again." Born and bred in Lewisham, cktrl aka Bradley Miller is an integral part of London's pioneering musical underground. One of the only remaining original DJs on NTS, cktrl has previously worked with and played alongside the likes of Sampha, Sango, Kelela and Dean Blunt. Throughout his career to date, cktrl has also been recognised and heralded by fashion and film VIPs including Virgil Abloh, Bianca Saunders, Tremaine Emory, Nicholas Daley and Jenn Nkiru who recently secured him a cameo in Beyonce's heralded 'Black Is King'. With a shared ethos of elevating and amplifying leftfield black music, he partners with London based label, Touching Bass, themselves a key cog within the city's bubbling musical underbelly.

Mere months after inflicting a massive case of Vertigo on the world, Wand ride on, plating the pre-release digi-single "Help Desk" alongside "Goldfish", a bonus dose of oceanic luminescence from Vertigo"s Big Bang. Plus, in the name of the ever-expanding universe (and the much-needed dream-extension app!), three remixes - from Beat Detectives, Dead Rider and Dean Spunt - for good measure. Not sure where you"re at? Check in with the "Help Desk".

‘I Got What You Need’ is the statement from a troubadour coming into town to inform and entertain the people. Bearing songs of soul searching, of spiritual uplift, of tunes to groove to. Equipped with a powerful voice and stinging guitar the troubadour lays down his marker and backs up the statement. Two Times UK Blues Award winner Mississippi MacDonald has it all to play that troubadour as he presents his third album on APM Records. The gravelly Gospel tones on If I Could Only Hear My Mother Pray Again, and the imploring emotion on Your Dreams have MacDonald stretching out vocally. The former song in turn also showcasing another tour de force from regular backing vocalist Lucy Randall. Two self-penned instrumentals pay tribute; 3.35AM, to one of MacDonald’s prime influences Freddie King, and Soul City One to the in-house studio sound of Stax / MacDonald continues to be an excellent interpreter of southern soul and two more songs from the stable of Memphis studio and publishing house Ecko in Hard Luck and Trouble and the title track prove this. So too the band’s take on the R&B classic We’re Gonna Make It which in MacDonald’s hands really swings. Sinking is an epic ballad in which to lose yourself completely. The album is rich in variety, vibe and soulful energy. It’s MacDonald’s Blues and a whole lot more. MacDonald is a guest artist with the ‘Take Me To The River All Stars’, performing on stage at Red Rooster, filmed in session with Eric Gales and Jools Holland, and is filmed again at Royal Studios in Memphis on October 1st. MacDonald and band will perform at the UK Blues Challenge on October 8th, MacDonald is special guest of Visit Mississippi in Liverpool on October 18th when they unveil the first ever Blues Trail marker outside The Cavern. MacDonald will perform with Clarksdale veteran Super Chikan. International PR agent Blind Raccoon has been engaged to promote the new album. Last album ‘Heavy State Loving Blues’ was no. 1 on Roots Music Radio Contemporary Blues, no.1 on the IBBA chart for albums of the year 2023, and top 50 on the US Apple iTunes Blues chart, plus plays and a session on BBC Radio 2 Blues Show (Cerys Mathews). Live shows running up to end of March 2025. A singer/ songwriter from London who speaks quietly but makes music with real gravitas. A rising star since winning Traditional Blues Artist Of The Year and Acoustic Act of the Year at the 2024 UK Blues Awards. MacDonald has released two previous albums on APM Records. ‘Heavy State Loving Blues’ in 2023, and ‘Do Right Say Right’ in 2021- selected as a top 10 Blues album of the year in MOJO.

2024 Repress

All in that stark contrast between ethereal spaciousness and steely, martial rhythms out the industrial spectrum, 'Far Field' takes us on a voyage across the board, from breaks-heavy machine stunts to washed-out tapestries, via EBM-laced detours and junglistic maneuvers. Investigating the nexus zone between dance functionality and limitless escapology, it extrapolates both artists' blends to further immersive, hypnotic effect. Taking over the A side, .VRIL gets the ball rolling with 'Lost Together', which sets the tone on a low-slung, nostalgia-drenched note; combining the syncopated swagger of downtempo techno with ambient-oid stasis and static-filled opacity. Like watching an all-metal sun sinking past the blazing skyline. Revving up the engines, 'Fnord' feat. RAeYN conjures up a way more muscular arsenal of big-room-ready wares, from aggro snare salvos to anthemic synth kinetics, through that replicant-hunting kinda vibe. One to have the Saturn rings go hula hoop, with all woofers and brains in the vicinity melting in XTC. Shutting the A side off, 'We Believe' returns to a lighter, more vaporous mindset but sure implements that signature heavy swing of .VRIL, flush with textured kicks and FX-soaked arps. True monster prog swell. Flip it over and there's HVL dishing out a textbook example of his vortical electronic furls with the title-track, 'Far Field' - an oneiric drift that slowly rises from its heavy-lidded slumber, ascending towards bleepin' n bloopin' experimental effervescence as bars fly by. A number bound to hack your body and mind into two distinct facets, and while one dances its way frantically across the ever buzzing space/time continuum, the other shall reach a state of healing calm and transcending ubiquity. Smoothly shuttling us off to the upper layers of the ionosphere, 'Lancet Mxi' clenches it on a trippy note, taxiing us midway zero-G UK bass territories and eerie ambient abstraction. HVL's total, widescreen vision at its most unhindered, all set at expanding your mind to yet uncharted horizons of sound and closing the gap between two distant, estranged galaxies. A fractured headspace to both dance and dream to. *Dressed in a fine piece of artwork courtesy of Daniel M. Diaz, 'RYCL021' comes pressed on 180g audiophile black vinyl for optimal playing and listening experience.

Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time is a portal into somatic chiaroscuro, aglow with the embers of imperfect memories and smudged with the plumes of internal echoes, which augment in vast, mercurial dimensions. For his third album on RVNG Intl., the British cellist, composer and producer offers a capsule of personal resonance and remembrance, assembled over the past six years. Throb, shiver, arrow of time traces the familiar metallic anatomy and viscous string modulations of his 2020 release skins n slime, while recentering his inner compulsions following a procession of lauded score writing projects, including the films Aftersun (Charlotte Wells, 2022), The Stranger (Thomas M Wright, 2022) and Occupied City (Steve McQueen, 2023). While working on Aftersun, Wells asked Coates how music could signal that someone is going on a trawl through their memory_a question that has stayed with him ever since and fosters a heartbeat running through the record. Throb, shiver, arrow of time is "all about inaccurate transmissions from our memories, overlaid with emotions from other sources," says Coates. The release is imbued with the ache and glow of recollections mulched together, where the guttural dissonance of misremembering is shrouded by strange orbs of sentiment. At the record's inner core is "Shopping centre curfew," a swift yet cavernous track that emerged five years ago when two real world events, both occurring in South London during the pandemic lockdowns, became fused in a dream: the demolition of Elephant and Castle shopping center, and the discussion of a curfew as a real possibility for all men following a violent crime. A strange simultaneity occurred with this piece of music and Coates built the album out from there, a sense of temporal entropy refracting shimmers of lurking convulsions into lucid sonic topologies. The ten compositions of Throb, shiver, arrow of time find weightless melodies soaring across after-image gradients, magnified and compressed. Misted tones within "Please be normal" and "90" soften drone-soaked shudders of inner acoustics messing up. Vocal invocations appear from long-term collaborators Malibu and chrysanthemum bear, as well as drifting synth radiance from Faten Kanaan. Throb, shiver, arrow of time furthers Coates' reach in collapsing the digital into the analogue and vice versa, allowing serendipity to reorganize the material and push out against the confines of flatness. This sculptural approach to sound is deeply influenced by the intricate installations of artist Sarah Sze, whose permutations of visual matter with its own after-image form kaleidoscopic epitaphs for ephemera and emotion. Coates' thinking about Sze's work and processes flowed together with his own playing and editing techniques, superimposing the textural relief of a live take back into a composition, and allowing the sound to succumb to a dream of itself. As Coates expands, "The cello is a kind of melancholic instrument with a light ethereal spirit. When the sound is flattened into digital processes, with shifted frequencies and time stretching I'm trying to give it even more of those qualities. Sometimes I'm distancing myself from it, so it becomes a piece of discarded debris that has soul in it, a down-sampling. Or other times, it's trying to maximize the present tense in the act of playing, and collapse that vivid color into a burnished, photocopied kind of sound. So the music acts like weather, weathering the listener, or as flames licking at the sides of objects." As the record unfurls, the compositions swell in duration, until the granular glimmers of its finale "Make it happen" persist in almost violent delight. "There's a feeling of not wanting to let this album go, trying to defy the extinguishing sound at the end of the music, trying to push the colors beyond the confines of the structure, to defeat the silence." In the scramble to resist denouement, Coates suspends the arrow of time in its eternal flight, just for a moment, to reveal the solace of the dust settling in the afterglow. Oliver Coates' Throb, shiver, arrow of time will be released on vinyl, Japanese import CD, and digital editions on October 18, 2024. On behalf of Oliver and RVNG Intl., a portion of the proceeds from this release will benefit The Traditional Music and Song Association of Scotland, an organization fostering opportunities for people of all ages to participate in the traditional music and culture of Scotland.

Phoebe Rings is a dream-pop band offering a unique blend of introspective yearning with celestial danceable grooves. Their self-titled debut EP, a hopeful collection of musings, out on Carpark Records, is a testament to the distinctive musical style of Auckland jazz-school-trained pianist and songwriter Crystal Choi. Across six tracks, the EP is a love letter to some of the band’s influences: Studio Ghibli films, Zelda and Stardew soundtracks, Bossa Nova, Stereolab, and 90’s Korean ballads.

In 2020, the band played their first gig in a ‘funny side room’ during a festival at Auckland Town Hall. Choi’s songwriting was brought to life with Alex Freer on drums, Simeon Kavanagh-Vincent on guitar and synths, and Benjamin Locke on bass. Choi says she knew the tracks had to be recorded after the band played the songs better than she could ever imagine. And so, remotely through the COVID-19 lockdowns, the band started recording the EP.

“Daisy” is the vibrant leading single, with the shimmery refrain “Ooh-wee-a-waa” and the uplifting mantra: “When you’re next to me, the world’s full of daisies.” The swirling synths fizz on the skin like warm sun, promising growth and new starts. “Cheshire” is an Alice in Wonderland-inspired trip through the rabbit hole, pacing in anticipation. “Like a Cheshire cat, it grins and disappears in moments when you accept yourself,” explains Choi. Locke and Choi finished the lyrics one evening, huddled in the corner of a local underground music venue, with references to Murakami’s book Dance Dance Dance.

Choi grew up in Seoul, developing a palette for K-pop and retro sounds. The city-pop influence of “January Blues” shines through, with Choi crediting one of her favourite songs from the ’80s: “연극이 끝난 후 After Play”. The track explores her disconnect with the summer break. “In the Northern Hemisphere, January is winter,” says Choi. “I missed that a lot, and I don’t vibe with the beach.”

“Spissky,” chimes in with Choi’s lilting vocals reminiscent of childhood lullabies, inspired by a lonely-looking castle she saw on tour with Princess Chelsea in Slovakia. While “Ocean” leans into its mumble-core roots, taking a leaf from the Cocteau Twins. There’s an external shift in the EP, with “Lazy Universe” being the most energetic track, evolving with the band’s chaotic sci-fi experimentation. Asking, “Are you still waiting for a kiss?” Choi is self-critical and urgently speaks up from being passive.

The members of Phoebe Rings are cemented in the musical ecosystem, balancing other projects and full-time work. Yet Sundays will always be carved out for Phoebe Rings to dream up imaginative, world-building tunes — often with a Nintendo game soundtrack in the background as inspiration.

The Well is the second album by the duo So Sner, composed of Susanna Gartmayer (bass clarinet) and Stefan Schneider (electronics). Recorded over nearly two years in various studios and spaces, the album reflects So Sner's extensive touring across Europe. The final mixing took place in Vienna at the studio of Martin Siewert, who served as both co-producer and mastering engineer. Known for his meticulous attention to sonic detail, Siewert brings his unique techniques and distinctive sound enhancements to the album, resulting in a work that is both stylistically cohesive and daringly uncompromising.

So Sner’s critically acclaimed debut album REIME (TAL26, 2021) was celebrated for its innovative fusion of bass clarinet and electronic sounds in unexpected and surprising ways. With The Well, the duo explores both fluid and dissonant sonic landscapes, embracing different structural and sonic challenges. The result is a quieter, more introspective set of compositions than many might have anticipated. The album is a statement of two confident collaborators crafting complex, spatial musical moments in their own distinct manner.

The music on The Well generates a multiplicity of effects that transcend conventional oppositions such as hand-played versus programmed, composition versus improvisation, or analog versus digital. The album suggests a re-articulation of these categories, allowing the ten tracks to gradually blend one musical idea into another, and one musician into another, in a circular and complementary fashion. The polymetric permutations and exploratory reed components create a soundscape where all elements coexist harmoniously, without compromising or diminishing each other’s presence.

With its sparse sound architecture, The Well invites listeners into a space of effective emptiness, offering room for the mind and body to explore—a sonic island where one can develop sensuality through patient movement.

For So Sner, live performance is a passion of the mind, and since they began working together in 2020, their music has taken them to many different places. The live experience has deeply influenced the recorded music on this album, with the interplay between live performance and studio work informing their creative process. The Well captures the genuine act of exploring new territories, serving as a storage place for the time and space shared by the duo, re-filtering their experiences of performing and traveling together.

The Well is a lucidly playful and ambitious album by two contemporary musicians who are continually learning to create and respond to the subtle and significant changes in their music, maintaining momentum throughout the entire work.

In addition to her work with So Sner, Susanna Gartmayer has recently collaborated with artists such as Joe McPhee and Maria Portugal, and remains a member of her long-running band, the Vegetable Orchestra. Stefan Schneider, founder of the label TAL, has recently performed with Garth Erasmus from Cape Town and fine art luminary Katharina Grosse.

"Waxwork Records is thrilled to present CARRIE Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by Pino Donaggio! Expanded and re-mastered for its 45th anniversary, this deluxe double LP album marks the very first time that the complete film music has been released on vinyl. Carrie is a 1976 Horror film adapted from author Stephen King's very first published novel of the same name. The movie stars Sissy Spacek and is directed by Brian De Palma (Scarface, Phantom Of The Paradise).

The score by legendary composer Pino Donaggio (The Howling, Tourist Trap) skillfully captures the pressure of forced innocence, the humor of teen drama, and the trauma of coming of age as a girl in 1970’s America. The album also features the tracks “Born To Have It All” and “I Never Thought Someone Like You Could Love Someone Like Me” by Katie Irving. CARRIE Original Motion Picture Soundtrack features the expanded film music re-mastered and pressed to orange smoke colored vinyl, with new artwork by Phantom City Creative, and old-style tip-on gatefold jackets with matte satin coating."

In collaboration with Back Lot Music and Monkeypaw Productions, Waxwork Records is proud to present MONKEY MAN Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by Jed Kurzel. Monkey Man is a 2024 action-thriller film directed, co-written, and produced by Dev Patel in his directorial debut.

The film follows "Kid", an anonymous young man who ekes out a meager living in an underground fight club where, night after night, wearing a monkey mask, he is beaten bloody by more popular fighters for cash. After years of suppressed rage, Kid discovers a way to infiltrate the enclave of the city's sinister elite. As his childhood trauma boils over, his mysteriously scarred hands unleash an explosive campaign of retribution to settle the score with the men who took everything from him.

Jed Kurzel is an award winning Australian singer-songwriter-guitarist and film composer. His scoring credits include The Babadook, Alien: Covenant, Overlord, Assassin's Creed, and others.

Waxwork Records proudly presents MONKEY MAN Original Motion Picture Soundtrack as a deluxe double LP featuring Blood Red, Black, and Metallic Gold A-Side B-Side colored vinyl, new artwork by Sajan Rai, exclusive director and composer liner notes, heavyweight gatefold packaging, and an 11"x11 insert.

The Well is the second album by the duo So Sner, composed of Susanna Gartmayer (bass clarinet) and Stefan Schneider (electronics). Recorded over nearly two years in various studios and spaces, the album reflects So Sner"s extensive touring across Europe. The final mixing took place in Vienna at the studio of Martin Siewert, who served as both co-producer and mastering engineer. Known for his meticulous attention to sonic detail, Siewert brings his unique techniques and distinctive sound enhancements to the album, resulting in a work that is both stylistically cohesive and daringly uncompromising.

Exploring late-night, after-hours meditations on sound; ‘Everything Above The Sky (Astral Travelling with Luke Una)’ is a new compilation by the titular DJ, promoter and enigmatic cultural curator. Off the back of the E Soul Cultura phenomena, this compilation comes at a timely point in Luke’s rich career as he soars the heights of playing all over the world. Avoiding any chance of his sound being pigeonholed, Luke has put together a tracklist of songs and music that have a transcendental feel, after coming off the grid, going back to source, outside the city walls .

Music has long been believed to aid out of body experiences and many of us have searched long and hard for a combination of those elusive ingredients that might alleviate some of the monotony of everyday life, our daily routines and obligations, and those things that seem to block us from the spirit of the universe. In this collection, Luke selects music with all the right ingredients in just the right quantities, allowing the listener to engage in an esoteric journey of enlightenment through sound. Being a prolific collector of music, Luke initially delivered enough tracks to compile several compilations, making the licensing process the biggest effort to date for the label. The music moves softly and slowly, never becoming too intrusive, exemplifying the wonderful elevating properties of simple songs played from the heart.

Luke’s Everything Above The Sky manifesto reads, “Astral Travelling in the meadowlands with acid folk, spiritual jazz, around midnight hocus pocus, cosmic psychedelic soul, magical spellbound whirling swirling love songs, Brazilian ballads of light into machine soul gospel utopia dreaming, Balearic bossa, Outer Space ancient African drum, the breath of trees, escaping the big bad modern world, gathering round winter fires, walking amongst the bracken in Padley Gorge in late summer twilight, overlooking the Hope Valley, escaping ego, detaching and finally letting go amongst the stars with the slowly floating people. It’s beautiful beyond. Everything above the Sky”.

Beginning his career as an original Sheffield house young blood in the mid 1980s, Luke’s move to Manchester and partnership with Justin Crawford saw the birth of Electric Chair, a cornerstone cult night in the UK underground club scene. Then came Electric Elephant, a Croatian festival paying homage to their wild eclecticism from Balearic to Brazilian to É Soul, house, disco and techno. Luke’s much loved, long-running Homoelectric night and more recently Homobloc sell out festival for 10,000 souls has been at the forefront of Manchester’s LGBTQ+ cultural landscape. Luke’s Friday evening show on Worldwide FM captured imaginations and became a cult four-hour must-listen monthly journey for fans all over the world. Today, Luke remains, as ever, at the forefront of a changing milieu, pairing the momentous legacy of Manchester’s 80s and 90s scene with the delivery of what today’s club communities need to get down.

Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water, the self-titled debut from the duo of trumpeter Will Evans and guitarist, synthesist, producer and multi-instrumentalist Theo Trump, arrives like a vault revelation. It feels like a decades-old yet newly unearthed masterwork of gorgeous ambient improvisation, the sort of thing scholars live to research and shepherd into deluxe reissue.

The patient, crystalline chords that swell and resonate like a series of confessions; the textured brass murmurs that suggest a ’60s or ’70s Fire Music master at their most poignant. Provocative found-sound experiments threading arcane religious recordings through dystopian soundscapes. Ear-shattering free-noise tumult. Where and when did this music come from? Who are these voices?

As it turns out, Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water springs from an engrossing human story, though it isn’t necessarily the one you’d expect. This work of stunning maturity is in fact an entrance by two little-known explorers in their early 20s, who grew up together in Virginia, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It documents one of those perfect, sparkling moments in post-adolescence when big decisions and responsibilities are right around the corner, but for a spell, two young artists are able to create among the comforts and nostalgia of their shared past.

It also represents a reunion of sorts, as Evans and Trump connected as toddlers, became inseparable as boys, then pursued independent lives and creative paths as young adults. “Theo is my oldest friend,” Evans says, “and I feel like that’s what this band is — us meeting right in the middle of our interests.”

Now, having conjured this magic, they’ve detached once again: Evans, whose other works include the indie/avant-jazz unit Angelica X, is currently based in New York City. Trump recently moved to England, where he’d participated in his family’s theatre company, to go to school and further his solo ambient project. “This album didn’t start out as something super ambitious,” Evans explains. “It was more just an excuse to spend time together again and make music.”

***

In conversation, Evans and Trump are a delight, especially for cynics who might think that Gen-Z is only capable of doomscrolling. They come across as kindly young intellectuals who grew up using the internet as it was intended, for exposure to ideas and art across genres and generations. Trump points to indie-folk and the oracular post-rock of late Talk Talk, Bark Psychosis and Gastr del Sol. Pressed for his guitar heroes, he cites Bill Orcutt, Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot, and mentions his devotion to alt-country. Heyday electro-industrial stuff like Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails also meant a lot to him.

Evans is equally intrepid, though his background has a greater jazz focus. Ambrose Akinmusire, among today’s most thoughtfully commanding trumpeters, is a favorite. As for the soulful murmur he offers throughout Forgetting You, Pharoah Sanders’ wistful and lyrical contributions to Floating Points’ work is a touchstone.

The two grew up down the street from each other in the northern Piedmont town of Batesville, Virginia. Their families were friends, holidays were celebrated together and they became the most loyal of pals. As children they had a pretend band.

Then life unfolded, they attended different schools and their paths diverged. Evans discovered John Coltrane and became a jazz obsessive, as Trump found punk and hardcore and later began making ambient music. As a dedicated jazz trumpeter, Evans studied formally and widely; Trump was an autodidact, teaching himself guitar and absorbing synthesis and production techniques. The late teens and very early 20s brought moves away from home and back to home, as well as plenty of listening and learning. The Covid pandemic meant an opportunity to reconnect on long walks. Through it all, together and apart, they remained reverent of each other.

By early 2023, they found themselves living again among the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the evening, after giving trumpet lessons in Charlottesville, Evans would make the eerily beautiful trek “over the mountain” to Trump’s home in Staunton, Virginia. They’d talk and eat and begin to improvise, deep into the night. Evans played trumpet and sometimes drums. (Given the wee-hours recording schedule, the neighbors didn’t appreciate the latter.) Trump plugged a rickety, junk-store Telecaster-style guitar into a cheap solid-state amp and explored open tunings; he also layered on lap steel, electric bass, synths and electronics.

They locked in and relished each other’s gifts. In Trump, those include patience and intentionality and sonic decision-making; for Evans, a distinctive trumpet sound that both musicians think of as a singer’s voice. “Will’s playing is so thoughtful and well placed,” Trump says. “My goal from a producer’s mindset is that the trumpet will occupy the space that vocals would take.”

Often, they got lost in the best way. “The thing I look for most when I’m playing is that feeling of disappearing into what you’re doing,” Evans says. “Usually when that happens, the music is good.”

By the same token, they didn’t pursue free improvisation as an ethic, or as a pure process. Their goal was something closer to spontaneous composition. “We were trying to make good songs,” Evans says simply. Later, Trump did brilliant post-production work, expanding a modest setup into an enthralling soundworld. Under his judicious editorship, music that was wholly improvised sounds at times like a carefully composed new-music commission.

The results speak for themselves. “A Happy Death” summons up a swath of American desolation through the viewfinder of Wim Wenders. “Flesh of Lost Summers” and “Partings” are highlights from an essential ECM LP that never was. “A Collapse of Horses” infuses those seminal post-rock influences with the plod of doom metal or slowcore. The album’s final track, “The Mountains Are a Dream That Calls to Me,” was in fact the first thing the duo recorded, as an evocation of those twilit drives across the Blue Ridge Mountains. “Looking back at what we chose to name the songs,” Evans says, “and some of the sounds and how they make me feel, there is an air of impermanence and loss to this album.”

“I’m excited for everything that’s to come,” he adds, “but I recently thought, ‘Damn — that’s not going to happen again.’ It was a privilege for us to have that time together.”