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At the turn of the millenium the original „Astral Disaster“ subcription-only vinyl release was somewhat of an Unholy Grail for Coil collectors!



Virtually unobtainable in its original fiercely limited format of only 99 copies, it is the only album apart from the original „Musick to play in the
Dark“ record to combine the genius of Balance and Sleazy with both Drew McDowall and Thighpaulsandra's talents.

Like „Musick“ it is an essentially tidal/lunar record with literal washes of sound enveloping the listener. Intensely engaging tracks like „The Avatars“ and the later concert tour-de-force „I don't want to be the one“ owe equal amounts to drone and kraut, but are quintessentially Coil.

The record was re-imagined and enhanced a short time later, but even this more widely available re-edition on Coil's own Thresholdhouse imprint has been unavailable for too long now.

Salix is a bold new departure for modular synthesist Loula Yorke, seen here using an antique reed organ to explore the ancient roots of willow trees in magic, myth and medicine, as well as inviting another musician into her recording studio for the first time, clarinettist Charlotte Jolly.

The EP forms a sonic archive of a singular instrument: an antique free reed organ left behind by a previous encumbent of Asylum Studios, (the artists' co-operative in Suffolk where Yorke's Truxalis labelmate and life collaborator, Seiche, has a studio space). The organ is in poor condition and fascinatingly, painfully detuned. Yorke's recordings bring out its host of unusual quirks exacerbated by age and neglect: the powerful rhythmic creaking of the wooden treadles; the bone-shaking resonance emanating from its body at specific pitches; unexpected exclamations of harmonic collision from within the carcass redolent of a human voice; the piercing, shrieking whistles of broken reeds, and the powerful timbres unlocked via Yorke's experiments with various combinations of stops.

The three tracks that form Salix are inspired by a local weeping willow tree, a constant companion photographed over the course of a year. Boughs caught in a gyre. A maiden in mourning. Branches that gesture in the wrong direction. A tree turned upside down. A hand-woven willow basket, an old technology to gather and store. The journey of a lovelorn bard through the underworld, a bundle of willow under one arm for protection.

For the opening track, The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction, Yorke recorded herself playing a simple unaccompanied improvisation on the organ, the only ornamentation being the processed sounds of the keys being struck and returning to their positions.

For Bundle of Styx, a spell of protection is cast and then broken. Yorke invited virtuoso clarinettist Charlotte Jolly into the studio to test combining the breathy textures of both brass and natural reeds, the instruments uniting and obsuring each other in turn during this one-take improvisation. The organ's unpredictable sharpened tunings take centre stage here, with Jolly using them as a point of departure to conjure a set of peerless harmonic improvisations live in the moment. Throughout the improvisation, Yorke, a self-taught musician, unpracticed on the organ, supports and challenges, freely admitting that she's not always sure what effect her decisions to move up and down the keyboard or pull out certain stops will have. Jolly's genius lies in her ability to meet and build on every uncertain pitch thrown her way, saying of the experience, "I love that Loula isn't classically trained, I can't predict at all what she's about to do."

For the final track, With the Red Dawn, Yorke has come up with another unique combination of textures, this time bringing her own specialism in modular synthesis to the fore. A ten-minute reed organ drone characterised with ever-shifting bass swells and overtones is layered with tuned sines, often shudderingly wave-folded, that ebb and flow both in intensity and harmonic colour according to the duty cycles of eight interrelated LFOs. These recordings are collaged with Yorke's singing voice and a langorous, ascending sequence across two octaves on Jolly's clarinet, all arranged to form a cohesive whole far greater than the sum of its parts. Smatterings of untuned percussion and a fragment of a conversation between the duo left in the final mix cements Yorke's unprecious DIY aesthetic into the release.

At its heart, Salix is like watching the wind in the willows; hundreds of thousands of identical tiny leaves moving in confluence on its branches; at once one thing and many things; moment-to-moment our perception makes out different individuals parts within this expanse of texture, before sinking back into the whole.

Hey Mercedes, formed from members of Chicago's emo band Braid, included Bob Nanna, Todd Bell, Mark Dawursk, and Damon Atkinson. They debuted with a self-titled EP (Polyvinyl Records) in 2000 and followed up with extensive touring and two full-length albums: Everynight Fire Works (Vagrant Records) in 2001 and Loses Control (Vagrant Records) in 2003 along with two more EP's: The Weekend EP (Vagrant Records) in 2002 and Unorchestrated (Grand Theft Autumn) in 2004. Dawursk left at the end of 2001 and was replaced by Mike Shumaker. After 359 shows and several releases, the band disbanded in April 2005.They played a reunion show in 2007 and celebrated the 15th anniversary of Everynight Fire Works in 2016 with a remastered re-release and select live performances. In 2025, the band made their live comeback at Las Vegas's second annual Best Friends Forever Festival and will continue to play more shows in 2026. In March 2026, Polyvinyl Records will reissue the complete Hey Mercedes catalog. With several EPs and albums currently out of print, this release will provide Hey Mercedes fans with the opportunity to obtain every Hey Mercedes title on vinyl.

Formed in Taipei in 2013, Scattered Purgatory (破地獄) has occupied a liminal space between drone, ambient, psychedelic folk and ritualistic kosmiche experimentation. Their early work, including ‘Lost Ethnography of the Miscanthus Ocean’ (2014) and ‘God of Silver Grass’ (2016), blended dense instrumental drones, improvisational guitar, and ambient textures rooted in the heat, humidity, and urban pulse of Taiwan. Over the years, the duo-turned-band has drawn on Krautrock, minimalist electronic music, and heavy drone traditions while remaining firmly grounded in Taiwanese geography and culture.

‘Post Purgatory’ emerges after a three-year hiatus following the pandemic, a period the band describes as pivotal to the album’s conception. “The feeling of loss and uncertainty has later become the inspiration of this record, and ‘time’ is the main theme – it can heal or it can destroy,” they explain. Musically and lyrically, the record traverses Taiwanese, traditional Chinese, and English, reflecting the multilingual fabric of Taipei life. While there isn’t a linear storyline, metaphor and poetry imbue the lyrics with reflections on love, loss, and the human experience, interlaced with influences of Hokkien and Mando pop and traces of trip-hop.

Recorded half in their home and half at the studio where they composed their first album, ‘Post Purgatory' integrates precision, clarity, and digital production techniques. Guest contributions—from White Wu’s dynamic drumming to Minyen Hsieh’s tenor saxophone and dotzio’s sci-fi-infused vocals—expand the band’s sonic palette, creating a doom metal record shaped by electronic sensibilities.

‘Post Purgatory’ is a statement of loss and re-empowerment, a bridge between their past and present. Through it, Scattered Purgatory reclaim their distinctive voice, presenting a sound that is at once rooted in Taiwan, informed by global musical traditions, and unflinchingly forward-looking.
credits

A meteorite and a lost EP from an experimental electronic talent escape their grim fate: remain unknown to human civilization forever.

Around 2015, Gareth Smyth (aka Lumigraph) produced two tracks before uploading them on his Soundcloud page under the name “Canyon Diablo”, a tribute to a meteorite that crashed in Arizona 49,000 years ago. Amazed, the future co-founder of M+M Disques barely had time to download them onto his hard drive before they were deleted... until today.

Behind the extraterrestrial sounds of this 2-tracker, Lumigraph seems to want to establish communication with planet earth using its own means. In the dubby “Flamingo Drive”, he patiently builds up his sluggish groove before bringing in a reassuring and catchy bassline. On the B-side, the avant-garde “America Song” combines industrial rhythms, drone guitar, and Pierre Henry-ish noises.

* fine art printed insert + PVC sleeve

“France absolutely engage the body... but the spectacle is one for your mind, especially as you start to wonder how much of what you’re hearing is really there.” The Quietus

Legendary hurdy-gurdy-powered kraut/psych/folk/drone band France have announced a new album ‘Good Thoughts. Bad Thoughts’ on The state51 Conspiracy label; capturing a wild performance at The state51 Factory in East London - part of their very first tour of England. They played Liverpool Psych Fest as a one off some years back.

Forming 20 years ago as a trio in Valence, France, for this performance, were Jeremie Sauvage on bass, Yann Gourdon on electrified hurdy-gurdy, and Cyril Bondi (of La Tene and Cyril Cyril on drums (stalwart Mathieu Tilly was taking some much needed time off).

This album sees the band plunge into the depths of the human psyche, backed up by Hugo Hyart’s deep, all-over cosmic doodles and an unhidden homage to the Parliafunkadelicment state of mind : Uniting, dancing, staying creative and open minded despite the tribulations of life. Dedicated to the feeling of good (and baby they’re good... at being good).

On the night France were recorded by Hot Chip’s in-house engineer James Crump who subsequently mixed the record at Hot Chip’s studio in East London. The album was mastered by Richy Hughes at Binary Feedback.

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

With their third album, Inanimate Objects of the 21st Century, Newcastle’s The Pale White prove once again that there’s no slowing them down. Following the success of their introspective sophomore album The Big Sad, brothers Adam (vocals/guitar) and Jack Hope (drums) return louder, sharper, and more defiant than ever. This third full-length is their most expansive yet: a record that blends the anthemic punch of classic rock with the urgency and edge of modern alternative.The title, Inanimate Objects of the 21st Century, is a nudge to the uncomfortable irony of our time – as technology accelerates, humanity feels increasingly frozen in place. Lead singer Adam Hope says: “Technology is moving, but we are not. Human civilization entered the 21st century wide-eyed and naive with mobile phones that would barely fit in our pockets. Fast forward a few decades and we’re so far from where we were that it almost looks like a bad 80’s sci-fi movie. Back then, that film would be watched in packed-out cinemas after an eagerly anticipated release, but now they stand emptier than they once were, attended mainly as a nostalgic experience in the age of Netflix and doomscrolling.

The birth of AI, algorithms, cryptocurrency, drones, holographic concerts, autonomous cars… we’re living in a strange transitional period which is both fascinating and terrifying in equal measure. We humans have now in fact become the inanimate objects - mannequins.After our softer, melancholic second album ‘The Big Sad’, we felt it was only right to move as fast as our world is moving and release our next within the year. ‘Inanimate Objects of the 21st Century’ is the evil twin, the Yin to The Big Sad’s Yang.”

New “Inversions” of drone rock pioneers Earth’s debut release. A collaboration between Dylan Carlson and Black Noi$e (Armand Hammer, Danny Brown, Earl Sweatshirt) formed in mutual respect and appreciation for one another. Both artists were intrigued by the creation of vast musical landscapes and the connection of music, with its ability to transport the listener. The music of Earth was recognised and celebrated for moving at a glacial pace and yet this new collaboration surprisingly saw Black Noi$e slowing things down even further.
The debut, which originally came out in 1991, notably featured Kelly Canary and Kurt Cobain on vocals on the tracks “A Bureaucratic Desire for Revenge Part 2” and “Divine and Bright”. Black Noi$e reimagines the original recordings with his experimental sensibility and innovative multi-instrumental, cross genre exploration. Applying contemporary electronics to the heavy droning bass and guitars and languid rhythms, this inversion oscillates and reverberates with a different kind of energy whilst simultaneously highlighting the much loved low slow and distorted properties of the original.

‘Extra Capsular Extraction’ was the first music Dylan made with Earth and his first time in a recording studio, which he recalls at the time as being “terribly exciting”. It also marked the first time collaborating with others and seeing it reified into a tangible object or product, a spirit that Dylan has carried through to the present. The original album is a document of a specific period and Dylan’s creative development. These inversions of Extra Capsular Extraction are, to quote Dylan, “an exciting way to reintegrate them into the present time and with my more expanded conceptions of musical endeavours”.
"Doom-metal innovators" Pitchfork.

"With guitars ramped up to the nth degree, but tuned to gut-wrenchingly low frequencies, Earth carved out a veritable canyon of pure molten drone, one which would have a profound influence on modern metal music." The Quietus

Ten years after their last collaboration, Jacques Duvall and Benjamin Schoos return with Plein Sommeil, a duo album that is at once melancholic, ironic, and tender—a poetic mirror of the fatigue of the modern world.

The legendary lyricist for Lio, Chamfort, and Daho meets the indie pop producer and sonic adventurer of Freaksville, in a generational union as improbable as it is natural.
Between Brussels and Paris, they weave songs about slowness, worn-out love, and resistance through gentleness.

Blending original compositions and delicate covers (The Kinks, Higelin, Daho), the album evokes a sensual and lucid refuge amid the overheating of everyday life.
Recorded with Bertrand Burgalat, The Loved Drones, and lush string arrangements, Plein Sommeil embraces a handcrafted, timeless aesthetic.

Its motto: “Slow business” — a manifesto against the speed and emptiness of contemporary times.

Each song, balancing irony and elegance, celebrates fragility and humanity.

London quartet The Leaf Library return with their bold new album After The Rain, Strange Seeds. A luminous collection of pastoral indiepop, drawing inspiration from suburban isolation, unreliable memories and the surreality of the weather. Their most immediate and melodic work to date, the richly evocative songs brim with chiming guitars, buzzing organs and warm, dulcet strings, evoking Yo La Tengo’s more contemplative moments, The Clientele’s autumnal jangle pop and early Stereolab’s motorik melodicism. The sound of the album is defined by mixer John McEntire, whose work with Stereolab and Yo La Tengo (as well as a member of Tortoise/The Sea And Cake) have been major inspirations to the band.
The album explores themes of memory and place, albeit through an abstract haze – returning again and again to specific moments frozen in time: midsummer bright hot days in the Chilterns (“Sun In My Room”), meteorology and the strange movement of the weather (“Colour Chant”), red kites circling over suburban motorways (“Some Circling”), and the uncanny feeling of dusk and nighttime creatures on “The Reader’s Lamp” (titled by celebrated film director Peter Strickland). The lyrics are vivid yet elliptical, strung with abstract ideas and imagery, conjuring a gently unsettling, though never unwelcoming atmosphere. Not quite trusting your own recollection of things, while marvelling at the oddness of the natural world, the album’s title a good summation of the mix of strangeness and hope contained within.

As on past albums the band - founded by singer Kate Gibson and ex-Saloon guitarist Matt Ashton in the mid 2000s, and now completed by drummer Lewis Young and bassist Gareth Jones - have involved their extended musical family, including guitarist Mike Cranny (of fellow drone pop travellers Firestations) and keyboardist Irina Shtreis, both members of the Leaf Library live band. The album also sees the return of James Underwood’s Iskra Strings, a quartet that features on 4 tracks, with sumptuous arrangements by Daniel Fordham, as well as regular contributor Melinda Bronstein on vocals and Will Twynham (Dimorphodons) on harpsichord. They also welcomed Paddy Milner (on Hammond organ) and Scott McKeon (guitar) – both current members of Tom Jones’ band – for a startlingly delicate rolling crescendo to closing track “There Was Always A Golden Age”.
After The Rain, Strange Seeds is their 4th studio album. The result is The Leaf Library’s most accomplished and affecting work, John McEntire’s mix bringing a bold clarity to the band’s meticulous arrangements – closer to how they sound live than anything they’ve done before.

The first resonant space Zosha Warpeha played in was the Emanuel Vigeland Museum in Oslo, Norway. Built as a mausoleum, its walls reach up into a gradual archway, creating an environment where sound expands and reverberates for twelve seconds before decaying into silence. Warpeha was greeted only by dim lights when she entered, and it wasn’t until she had spent several minutes listening that she was able to make out the frescoes that covered every inch of the room: graphic depictions of the cycle of life from conception through death. As the sound of her Hardanger d’amore encountered the walls and these slowly emerging scenes, they obscured its point of origin in both time and space, augmenting its own life cycle. The experience sat in the back of her mind over the next several years as she developed her own patient style of composition and performance, one that comes into full bloom on her new album I grow accustomed to the dark.

When Warpeha was selected as an artist in residence at Brooklyn’s ISSUE Project Room in 2025, she saw it as an opportunity to more intentionally explore how her music might fill a room with ample natural reverb. I grow accustomed to the dark documents two single-take solo performances for Hardanger d’amore and voice at IPR, with both pieces composed in a unique tuning system developed to interact with the space itself. Listeners can trace resonance from the contact of the bow on gut strings into the body of the instrument, its five sympathetic strings offering another layer of refraction, before the sound is thrown about the cavity of the room. The echoes emerge like a photographic double exposure, or wisps of smoke that linger in the air, creating ghostly harmonic convergences that blur the line between what is there and not-there. Sound begins to act like light, a synesthetic alchemy that transforms drones into beams and ornamental trills into flickers.

Both side-long compositions, “filament” and “visual purple,” exemplify a duality that animates Warpeha’s music: an expressive, individualistic style that draws on extensive knowledge of her instrument’s history in folk traditions, and an austere, devotional quality maintained by focus and precision. Though very different in character and structure, both pieces evolve slowly through numerous repetitive phrases, passages of stillness, and bursts of intensity. “filament” opens with a cycle of delicate melodic fragments played and sung around a drone before blossoming into an outpouring of swooping arpeggios, harmonics flying from the strings like sparks off a bonfire. The disorienting pulsation of harmonic beating forms the core of “visual purple,” the close-tone dissonance building to a swarm of open strings ringing boldly throughout the space. After the knotty tones reach their climax, the piece collapses into studied quietude, hushed, but without any drop in intensity.

When Warpeha first visited the Vigeland Museum in 2019, she was in Oslo to deepen her relationship to the Hardanger fiddle through the study of Norwegian traditional music, which is primarily passed down aurally. The experience of learning songs by ear, not only internalizing the tune but also absorbing the techniques and tonalities by listening, was a crucial step in her development as a composer. The years since have seen her sharpen those skills as a prolific member of the New York avant-garde and improvised music communities. Warpeha’s music encourages listeners to join her in this journey, to listen closely with each repeated phrase and through each dramatic shift. Like the frescoes on Vigeland’s walls, with time and intention, the depth of I grow accustomed to the dark comes on like a revelation.

Für Chantal Michelle ist das Komponieren von Musik wie eine Art Choreografie. In surrealen Klangwelten verbinden sich verschiedene Töne miteinander - sie bewegen sich zusammen und entfernen sich dann wieder voneinander - in einem Prozess, der sich ständig im Hörfeld wiederholt. Diese sich ständig verändernde Konstellation zeigt, wie zerbrechlich und veränderlich Wahrnehmung sein kann, ein Thema, das in Michelles Arbeit immer wieder auftaucht. Michelle, die schon früh eine Tanzausbildung absolvierte, bringt eine ausgeprägte räumliche Sensibilität in ihre Arbeit ein: ein intuitives Verständnis dafür, wie Formen koexistieren und sich durch drei Dimensionen bewegen, sowie eine Wertschätzung für die Schönheit, die sich in ungewöhnlichen Gegenüberstellungen von Materialien und Ideen findet. Seit sie 2021 ihre Solokarriere gestartet hat, hat sie internationale Anerkennung für ihre geduldigen, akribischen Aufnahmen bekommen, die oft zusammen mit Installationen, Mehrkanalkompositionen und Klangskulpturen entstehen. Innerhalb dieser subtil verwirrenden Klangarchitekturen können neue Beziehungen entstehen, neue Grenzen gezogen werden, und die Zuhörer werden zu einer Erfahrung von Zeit eingeladen, die sich der Linearität widersetzt. All Things Might Spill, Michelles erstes Album für Shelter Press, ist eine Auseinandersetzung mit anhaltender Spannung und der mysteriösen Erfahrung der Zeitdehnung in den Momenten kurz vor einem Bruch oder Zusammenbruch. Die Musik bewegt sich in einem Raum der Instabilität, und obwohl sie durchgehende Töne und definierte melodische Phrasen verwendet, herrscht eine Atmosphäre der Unentschlossenheit - wie ein Moment der Unruhe, der auf unbestimmte Zeit in der Schwebe bleibt. Ein Großteil des Albums wurde in den Wintermonaten 2024 in Berlin aufgenommen, wobei viele frühe Morgenstunden in einem Raum subtiler Unruhe verbracht wurden. Man sagt, dass Licht in die Dunkelheit eindringt, und diese Übergangszeit, die von Erwartungen geprägt ist, ist in der Musik zu hören. In ,Presence of Border" winden und verflechten sich nebulöse Stimmen, während sie über mehrdeutigen Harmonien schweben, die sich in unendliche Ferne zu erstrecken scheinen. Die beiden kurzen Stücke ,Magnetic Field I" und ,Magnetic Field II" enthalten bearbeitete Aufnahmen einer Tromba Marina, gespielt von der argentinischen Klangkünstlerin Alma Laprida. Die Gegenüberstellung von kratzigen Tönen und hauchzarten Obertönen erzeugt tamburaähnliche Drones, die den Zuhörer in einen schwer fassbaren Mittelpunkt ziehen. Später auf dem Album gibt es in ,Drying of Frozen Soils" modale Klarinettenlinien von Severin Black, die anfangs in dem nebligen, synthetischen Hintergrund fast nicht zu hören sind, bevor sie sich zu einem gespenstischen Kontrapunkt entwickeln. Eine ähnliche Struktur aus Unklarheit und Klarheit prägt den Titeltrack, in dem wortlose Gesänge eine laute Feldaufnahme durchdringen, die auf einer Fähre aufgenommen wurde, die den East River von Brooklyn nach Manhattan überquert. Das ist Musik mit einem weitläufigen Terrain und einer dichten Atmosphäre. Veränderungen sind langsam, aber dramatisch, jede Verschiebung ist sorgfältig geplant, um Gefühle des Staunens und der Vorfreude zu wecken und gleichzeitig eine erhabene Sensibilität dafür zu bewahren, wie einzelne Klänge mit der Bewegung ihrer Umgebung in Beziehung stehen. Michelle verzichtet meisterhaft auf Narrative und komponiert in drei Dimensionen. Wir bleiben mit der Mehrdeutigkeit des Wortes ,might" zurück - der anhaltenden Möglichkeit des energetischen Ansturms des Bruchs, des Ausbrechens, mal am Horizont, mal unmittelbar bevorstehend, irgendwie beides gleichzeitig.

New album by SABA ALIZADEH, a groundbreaking voice in contemporary Iranian music who blends classical Persian traditions with avantgarde experimentation.

Born in Tehran in 1983 as son of the world renowned tar and setar virtuoso HOSSEIN ALIZADEH, SABA ALIZADEH established himself not only as a true master on the Iranian spike fiddle kamancheh but one of the groundbreaking voices in contemporary Iranian music, blending classical Persian traditions with avantgarde experimentation. His music, praised by THE WIRE as "a bridge between the ancient and the contemporary", turns sound and image into powerful narratives of memory and resistance. Over the past years, ALIZADEH (who relocated to the Netherlands a few years ago) has appeared at key festivals and venues such as Reeperbahn Festival, CTM, Flow Festival, Philharmonie Berlin, Kölner Philharmonie, solidifying his reputation as a singular live performer.
After the critically acclaimed releases "Scattered Memories" (his international debut, released on Karlrecords in 2019), "I May Never See You Again" (2021) and last year's "Temple of Hope", his new album fascinates again with a unique artistic voice, weaving together centuries-old sonic heritage and the urgency of the present through deeply immersive, meditative landscapes in two epic pieces. "Rituals Of The Last Dawn" may feel like a sad or resigned title (compared to the positively fierce "Temple Of Hope"), but at the same time the highly meditative music provides a good lot of contemplative strength. Appealing to an open-minded "world music" audience as well as fans of current streams of ambient or drone in its most subtle forms, ALIZADEH's latest work is a strongly needed soul food in bitter times. Created on the spot with his musical partners PIETRO CARAMELLI (guitar and electronics on "First Ritual") and LIEW NIYOMKARN (lap steel and electronics on "Last Ritual"), "Rituals Of The Last Dawn" is a pure, unfiltered emotional expression from one of contemporary Iranian music's leading artists.

Melohman and Paco Colombas Unveil 'Palma de Janeiro': A Rhythmic Bridge Between Mallorca and Brazil...

PALMA DE MALLORCA - Producers Melohman and Paco Colombas announce their new EP, 'Palma de Janeiro' on GAMM, a vibrant sonic fusion where Mallorcan tradition meets Brazilian pulse. All together, the result is a highly percussive house workout with a South American feel.

The project centers on a unique dialogue between two worlds: the Mediterranean drone of the Ximbomba and the tropical snap of the Pandeiro.
Inspired by the festive spirit of Mallorca's 'Devil' - a mischievous figure of joy and dance - the EP weaves together communal island roots with the duo's deep-seated passion for Brazilian music.

Born from years of crate-digging and travels across Brazil, 'Palma de Janeiro' is more than a collaboration; it is a celebration of music as a universal language. It is a tribute to the dancefloor, where local heritage and global rhythms collide.

Soft Echoes presents the first physical edition of ‘In a Few Places Along the River’ by Abul Mogard as a limited run of 500 vinyl copies. Originally released digitally in 2022, the album now appears in its intended form, marking the label’s second release.

Three long pieces, composed between 2019 and 2022, emerged from Mogard’s meticulous experimentation with analogue and digital instruments. Slowly evolving harmonic fields of layered drones and spectral textures drift across the record. They are enhanced by reverb from Scotland’s Inchindown oil tanks, which hold the longest reverberation of any man-made structure, giving the music a haunting resonance and a sense of suspended space.

‘Against a White Cloud’ and ‘In True Contemplation’ open the album with their nocturnal tones that gradually intensify into dense, immersive waves of sound. Side B is devoted to the 21-minute elegiacal piece ‘Along the River’, which flows between weight and silence, unfolding with reflective depth and moments of subtle transcendence. As one listener observed, “His music doesn't break the wilful suspension of disbelief: you stay in its trance.”

“Recording for this album began in 2019, when I was still living in London,” Mogard explains. “The first version of ‘Along the River’ was created at my studio near Brick Lane. It started with experimenting around a chord progression inspired by a classical piece I had once been recommended, though, strangely enough, I no longer recall what it was. Early in 2022, I revealed the identity behind Abul Mogard and wanted to mark this new period, so I decided to release it quickly, by myself, as digital-only.”

After returning to Rome, Mogard created the other two pieces, working with new digital instruments alongside his modular synthesiser, and integrated recordings from the London sessions. The music reveals a patient attention to texture and space, defining his usual restraint. Mogard adds, “I was trying to explore very subtle changes in the spectral characteristics of the music using extremely slow, intertwined tones.”

Described by critics as one of Mogard’s most melancholic and absorbing releases, the album maintains an austere beauty and contemplative weight, leaving a lingering impression that lasts far beyond the final note.

The music has extended beyond the album itself, with tracks appearing in films and contemporary artworks. Most notably, Swedish artist Peder Bjurman’s ‘Slow Walker’ audiovisual installation and French filmmaker Fleuryfontaine’s politically charged animated film ‘Soixante-sept millisecondes’.

Mastered by Rafael Anton Irisarri and cut to vinyl by Lupo, the record emphasises the clarity and depth of Mogard’s frequencies, with each layer precisely balanced. The cover artwork and design are by Marja de Sanctis, who has collaborated with Abul since his first cassette release in 2012.

Siren Selector presents the first voyage of Remy Solar, as the producer takes a break from composing sound system exclusive dubs to expand his horizons with this by-turns lush, textured, menacing and plaintive album.

‘Heavy Terrain’ emerges from the depths of a lifetime inside the dub fraternity: reared on a potent diet of Lee Scratch Perry and Augustus Pablo, The Disciples and Digital Mystikz, it’s an album which stuck its head in a bass bin in an abandoned bingo hall in north London before striking out on a musical road-trip to imbibe sounds and rhythms from further afield.

The album opens with the militant drums and ethereal pads of 'Sound in the East' before being bookended by two mixes of 'Star Trail', where unformed musical space and time cross uncharted distances to coalesce into the beginning of direction and rhythm. The lush deep house chords and drilling synths of 'Lila #3' summon ghostly presences, while in its counterpart 'Lila #7' layers of melody rise and hang like mist before dissipating in percussive heat. 'Dakhla's’ swelling and retreating drones fade into swirls of drums. In the eponymous 'Heavy Terrain', off-beat keyboard chops respond to each other from uncertain depths while electronic horns pulse across miles of open space. 'Empty City 'sees walls of sound coalesce and fragment, falling into bursts of white noise.

Remy Solar explores a deliberately constrained hardware set-up to create the primordial conditions of trance, locking down a rhythmic foundation while semi-improvised excursions form and reform above it. It’s an album that takes the listener on a journey between order and chaos, past and future, all the while underlaid by a counterpoint of cavernous bass lines and echoing percussion, yang and yin, shade and light.

Taupe’s latest album release, waxing | waning delivers jazz experimentalism, ‘skronk’, avant-rock, and electronics, by the Glasgow-based trio, due out via Minority Records. Across its seven tracks, waxing | waning captures Taupe’s approach – bold and boundary pushing – shaped by a fresh shift in the band’s dynamic and compositional approach.

Taupe’s waxing | waning, co-composed and realised by its players in a studio that was once an undertaker’s premises in Glasgow, is an absolutely affirmative album, an act of cultural defiance in desperate times.

Comprising Mike Parr-Burman (guitar, bass guitar, electronics), Jamie Stockbridge (alto and baritone saxophones) and Alex Palmer (drum kit, percussion), Taupe work up a storm of skronk, free jazz and harmolodic frenzy whose closest relations include Zu, Melt Banana and John Zorn. However, waxing | waning is from its opening, stuttering blasts, an exercise in seeking out and claiming new territory, finding unique and novel permutations in which jazz, rock, electronics interbreed at breakneck pace. Here is a group determined to say and do things they don’t get to say and do elsewhere in their musical lives.

‘Lemonade Tycoon’ hits the ground skronking. It’s cubistic jazz, cumulative in its impact, avoiding the white lines of the conventional freeway, bridling, bustling, coming at you from all angles – a three way conversation of astonishing rapidity, fast track, telepathic communication – everyone from James Chance to Albert Ayler coming at you at once, before morphing in to a spidery scrawl of electronics and furious percussion. ‘Anti-Bird-Spike BirdNest’s‘ title somehow sums up the sort of mental images evoked by the music – its sheer creative disobedience, as if being chased in vain, like a delivery rider evading capture by ICE agents -– shapeshifting, assuming different shades, sprouting metal quills and, in its midsection, seeming almost to swallow itself alive, before regurgitating itself in a sublime mess.

‘Interlude (Stride)’ is not exactly ambient, more a horizontal enmeshment of percussion, drones, reverberant noise, electronics, a sonic mulch. ‘allcapsallbold' reminds of early Aksak Maboul, in its playfulness, a haywire series of short phrases, subject to mechanical interference, a complex weave of irregular rhythms, increasingly eloquent sax phraseology and caustic guitars, which land heavier and heavier. ‘Pet Boss' is the new jazz equivalent of a highly evolved, mature conversation among brilliant equals, sharp, empathetic, complementary, rising to a collective, joyful noise. On the title track, electronics descend like a shower of bright particles, intensifying in their luminosity, whitening the skies, as sax and drums kick up a tempestuous, spontaneously sculpted noise that summons the ghosts of the great free jazz players, before a dark calm descends slowly. Finally, ‘Turn Push Kick’, a burgeoning chatterstorm of electronics, before the group kicks in, at angles to one another, led by abrasive guitars, reminiscent of Sunn O))) in their ritualistic concussion, riffing, digging deep amid squealing sax and piledriving percussion.

Der postklassische Komponist, Klangkünstler und Kurator Matthew Patton ist mit seinem zweiten Album als Those Who Walk Away zurück. "Afterlife Requiem" ist eine Elegie für seinen Freund und Kollegen Jóhann Jóhannsson. Drones, Elektroakustik und fast vollständige Stille, extrahiert aus unvollendeten Aufnahmen auf Jóhannssons Festplatten, bilden die Grundlage für zwei Streichquintette - Ghost Orchestra (Reykjavík) und Possible Orchestra (Winnipeg) -, die in einem traurigen, langatmigen Werk verarbeitet und ausgelöscht werden. Patton hat auch wieder mit Andy Rudolph (Guy Maddin) und Paul Corley (Sigur Rós, Ben Frost) an der Koproduktion und dem Sounddesign gearbeitet, um eine brodelnde Körperlichkeit zu schaffen, die brodelnde Tiefen mit eindringlichen Bewegungen gespenstischer Streicher kontrastiert. ,Alles, was ich je geschrieben habe, ist ein Requiem. Alles ist ein Ende. Der Tod ist überall in dieser Musik präsent. In meinen Werken geht es um das Verschwinden - der Gegenwart, der Vergangenheit, von allem. Afterlife Requiem wird im Laufe seiner Dauer immer langsamer, es ist ein einziges großes Ritardando, die Zeit verlangsamt sich nicht nur, sie verschwindet. Ohne dass ich darüber nachgedacht hätte, ereigneten sich zwei miteinander verbundene Tragödien, die während des Schreibens, Aufnehmens und Arbeitens organisch an die Oberfläche kamen: der Tod meiner Mutter und der Tod des Komponisten und Freundes Jóhann Jóhannsson. Wenn ich mit dem Schreiben anfange, denke ich an nichts Bestimmtes, ich schreibe einfach, komponiere, nehme auf und höre zu ... aber irgendwas macht sich immer auf unvorhergesehene Weise bemerkbar oder drängt sich in den Vordergrund. Nach dem medizinisch assistierten Tod meiner Mutter wurde mir beim Ausräumen ihrer Wohnung klar, dass ich auch die physische Manifestation ihrer Welt auslöschte - und dass ich genau dasselbe mit der Musik tat, die ich schrieb und aufnahm. Während dieser Zeit wurde mir auch Jóhanns Tod immer wieder bewusst. Für Afterlife Requiem habe ich kurze, verlassene Fragmente aus Jóhann Jóhannssons Festplatten genommen und diese körperlosen Audio-Geister abwechselnd in meine eigene Musik eingebaut, wobei ich sie unrein gelassen habe - und dabei die Grenze zwischen Schaffen und Zerstören verwischt habe. Nach seinem Tod hatte ich diese Festplatten aus Jóhannssons Berliner Studio zum Anhören bekommen. Diese Musik war aufgegeben worden, in verschiedenen Stadien der Entstehung und Auflösung: ein Verzeichnis zerfallener und toter Erinnerungen, vergessen und jetzt nur noch in einer Reihe ineinandergreifender mechanischer Teile vorhanden, die mit der Zeit selbst versagen und verschwinden werden, wie alles andere auch. Monatelang hörte ich mir diese Überreste von Jóhanns Musik obsessiv an und versuchte, Hinweise auf Jóhann vor seinem Tod zu finden. Oft stellte ich fest, dass er das Aufnahmegerät noch lange nach Ende der aufgenommenen Musik laufen gelassen hatte. Er schien nicht zu bemerken, dass die Musik aufgehört hatte, oder registrierte nicht, dass dies das Ende der Musik war, oder vielleicht war er durch etwas anderes abgelenkt. Aber ich fand diese langen Stillephasen zutiefst emotional und berührend. Die verschwindenden Elegien von Afterlife Requiem sind weniger Musik als vielmehr Überreste von Musik. Auf diese Weise arbeite ich immer auf die Subtraktion von Bedeutung hin. Die Musik ist fern und verschwommen, beschädigt, geisterhaft und gespenstisch und deutet nur wie eine halb vergessene Erinnerung an das, was einmal existierte, eine verdichtete Darstellung von Verfall und Auslöschung. Ich habe dieses neue Stück von Anfang bis Ende mit diesen körperlosen Stillephasen aus Jóhanns eigenem Werk, Raum und Zeit unterlegt. Jetzt für immer verschwunden, bleibt seine aufgezeichnete Stille zurück; eine monumentale Leere, die der Welt verloren gegangen ist. Im gesamten Stück, insbesondere in den Abschnitten ,Memorial Environment", habe ich auch unzählige Geräusche aus der Natur integriert, von vulkanischer Lava über Lastenaufzüge bis hin zum menschlichen Blutfluss, dem Zischen von Turbinen und Selbstmordinjektionen. Der Künstler Robert Smithson sagte vor Jahrzehnten: ,Es ist die Dimension der Abwesenheit, die es noch zu finden gilt." Für mich misst diese Musik auch, wie die Zeit abläuft. Tatsächlich ist die Zeit bereits abgelaufen. Die Ewigkeit hat bereits begonnen." - Matthew Patton (Those Who Walk Away)

FELT enter 2026 with a newly established sub label for reissues, retrospectives and oddball adjacent non-FELT material under the anagram catch-all LEFT. First on the agenda is a vinyl issue of a modern classical tape by Danish post-hardcore/late 2000s rock guitarist Johan Surrballe Wieth, founding member of the band Iceage (Escho/Dais/Mexican Summer/Matador).

Initially released on a limited cassette edition and plucked from the vast catalogue of the Copenhagen label Posh Isolation, the solo project Health & Safety can be read as composers meditation on anxiety, depression, insomnia and all the damned things they entangle. Wieth moves across the spectrum with dour, deliberate keys, mangled drone fx, barely-there violin scrapes, erratic chimes and whistles and with a knowing pace that feels akin to a guiding hand. We’re unsure if the form of each piece is meant to directly correlate to the drug so referenced but the quiet fever dream atmosphere of the 25 minutes also blurs each piece into a whole.

This quote from Wieth certainly rings true for the highly introspective nature of Health & Safety - “You should be very careful listening to too much music when you're writing an album. It has a tendency to become a little too explicit”

Debut by a new string trio of Pelt and Elkhorn veterans with the wild card contributions of Kaily Schenker, creating a new variant of supremely pleasing acoustic-psychedelic-drone-Americana etc. “Lullaby>Summer Field” is an aptly named gentle rise, with Sheppard’s fingerpicked 12 string snaking through waves of elongated fiddle and cello. “Triode>Freedom” follows a darker minor-key ostinato with Gangloff’s keening melody over the top. “Freedom>Universal Blues” starts as a dirge and builds to a transition into the traditional “The Squirrel is a Pretty Thing,” with Kaily Schenker’s droning harmonium and vocal delivering a riveting, epic version of what’s usually cast as a short “kids”/folk-tale song (e.g. Peggy Seeger’s version). Originally this album was released by the band in an instantly sold-out edition of 100 for sale at their shows. This updated version includes a new insert by Kaily, a new cut by John Golden and a thick pressing from Smashed in Chicago.

Impatience is thrilled to present Leaving Memory, the latest album-length work by Piper Spray and Lena Tsibizova. Leaving Memory is a searing distillation of the duo’s ouevre - it’s eleven prismatic electronic seances combining for a mind warping wormhole with it’s own internal (il)llogic, where pop, ambient, and industrial music convene beneath a rugged HD of digital processing and brain fog. Equally rosy with nostalgia as it is ominously forward looking, Leaving Memory defies easy categorization and makes for an astounding, confounding listen.

By turns violently abrasive and disarmingly touching, Piper and Lena deploy sounds that fracture and disintegrate, burn up and explode, synthetic supernovas that give the record an unmistakable, inimitable texture. Song structures often abide by their own blueprint - heading in one direction before making an abrupt dive elsewhere. Bursts of vibrant colour lurk below layers of grayscale noise. Unidentifiable voices deliver secret messages from the murk. When rhythm’s emerge they ground the tracks to some unknown terrain and invigorate.

Lame Line veers towards the sweeter end of their spectrum, a hazy plaintive repetition increasingly lashed with friction, before Exit erupts with clanging rhythm and shards of distortion. Diagnosis is an almost sweet alt-pop song, Lena’s vocals yearning beneath a dubby shuffle, while Keeper Of The Void’s possessed incantations open up to a ripping, fried climax. Beryl Grey releases the pressure gauge, a gently lilting drift arpeggiating as the sun sets, and Lost Cars sweats through claustrophobic drones and bird song before the clouds part on a serene scene. Leaving Memory closes with Shin, offering a genuinely sweet resolution and a gentle landing back down to earth of either footsteps or fireworks, swelling synthesized horns and woodwinds, a kiss on the cheek for making it out the other side.

On Leaving Memory, Piper Spray & Lena Tsibizova share their uniquely discordant take on freaky music for unsettled minds, an intensely energized set that offers a deeply evocative, unimaginable otherworld for adventurous ears.

Piper Spray and Lena Tsibizova have been producing music together since 2020. Leaving Memory is the first to be presented in the LP format. Piper has previously released music via Orange Milk, Hausu Mountain and Gost Zvuk, as well as his own Singapore Sling Tapes label. Lena works predominantly as a photographer, and together Piper and Lena have released music via radio.syg.ma and Kartaskvazhin. Both make music as part of Air Krew, who have released music on the Echotourist and Motion Ward labels. They’re both currently based nowhere.

Leaving Memory was written, produced and mixed by Piper Spray and Lena Tsibizova, and mastered by Sergey Podluzhniy. Cover photo by Lena Tsibizova, design and layout by Justin Sloane.

White Vinyl

Siavash Amini is a composer from Tehran, Iran. He Has worked with labels like Room40, Hallow Ground, Opal Tapes and Umor Rex for the better half of the past ten years. He has performed at festivals like CTM & MUTEK and many other well known international events. Apart from it Siavash is a co-founder of the “SET experimental art events” and “SETfest” in Tehran, Iran. His work ranges from fragile ambient pieces and brittle IDM (incorporating his distinctive style of atmospheric guitar playing) to noisy drones and bleak modern classical pieces. His compositions have been inspired by films such as Andrei Tarkovsky's The Mirror as well as novels by Dostoyesvky and poems by T.S. Eliot.

Saffronkeira is the Sardinian sound researcher Eugenio Caria being active in the electronic music scene since almost two decades. His most recent work - a cooperation with the Italian jazz trumpet legend Paolo Fresu - earned a lot of praise from the international music press for the pure timelessness of the album.

"Upon hearing a small snippet of sound an image is conjured, not a memory but not unfamiliar. A shell of a memory, thousand events superimposed on each other. While trying to extract points of a narrative to ease the discomfort of this recollection, I try to separate and unfold the image and with it the points of the spectrum which make up the sound, a shell of a narrative. Here is an album based upon an almost entirely imagined/ synthesized happening upon hearing a snippet of sound. It sounded like of a whole story that never happened but yet I felt myself amongst it’s participants, a sound triggering a false memory. Each sound in Eugenio’s collection of sounds and ideas guided me a to a point in the narrative and it’s construction. He had handed me a portals of some kind to a few scenes of the whole narrative. This is the soundtrack for that false memory from all the perspectives I can think of."

West Mineral returns with lushly amorphous actions by Shiner, Pontiac Streator & Ben Bondy aka Shinetiac; together fused for an immersive flux of vapoured dub, chopped and droned Billie Eilish, and fidgety algorithmic jams.

There's not a single, specific sound you can peg to the West Mineral axis at this stage in the label’s evolution - it's rather a set of shared aesthetics that freely bend into various interconnected shapes. Shinetiac's contemptuous, critic-baiting gear is the ideal example; on their last album, 2023's 'Not All Who Wander Are Lost', skittery, ketamized IDM sparkled over Spice Girls samples and the Foo Fighters' 'Everlong' was transmuted into Sneaker Pimps-style trip-hop. 'Infiltrating Roku City' might be a little less blatant with its out-and-out poptimism, but it takes a similarly dim view of conservative "big ambient" snobbishness. Just a few minutes of 'Bluemosa' should be enough to let you know what's up; the overall character of the sound is hazed, with frozen pads and garbled, dubbed-out voices smudged into a mess of effects and samples. But it sups up different nuances as it wriggles, absorbing scampering breaks, dizzy acoustic guitar strums and half-heard wordless vocals, flipping in the third act to emerge from its shell as minimalist balearic folk-pop - something like Bon Iver doing 'Electric Counterpoint'.

Brooklyn's Shiner, Philly's Pontiac Streator and Berlin-based Ben Bondy navigate the labyrinthine streaming landscape, guided by their own private experiences of mindless doom-scrolling and cruising the darkest corners of YouTube. They formulated 'Infiltrating Roku City' while they were rehearsing last year and spent the winter stitching together various recordings and jams into a layered, dry-witted commentary on our algorithmic reality. Laden with inside jokes and refried memes, it's surprisingly elegant gear; handling the most unseemly elements like sonic recyclers, earnestly repurposing pop and nostalgia to create an atmospheric echo of contemporary reality.

Screwing Chief Keef's enduring 'Citgo', 'Clublyfe (hulu)' emphasises the original's AFX-pilled euphoria with Robert Miles-style piano hits, replacing Young Ravisu's brittle 128kbps trap rhythm with a glitchy rattle that picks up dembow spikes as it rolls. 'I Hate Being Sober' vaporises the Chicago drill pioneer's 'Hate Bein' Sober', blocking out his voice with glitchy, downsampled interference and elasticated Rhodes. The trio team up with Orange Milk's goo age on the sublime 'Crisis Angel', catching a ray of Malibu's sunshine in the process, and reduce Billie Eilish's voice to a Romance-does-Celine cinder on 'Billie', stretching it to fit next to gassed Future ad-libs and swooping 808 Mafia sub womps. And although the album takes a murky diversion on 'Roku Axes Ultra’, and a cloud-stepping centrepiece ‘Purelink’ in homage to the eponymous dubbed ambient dynamos, it's back on course with 'Jiafei (NETFLIX)', taking aim at TikTok bot videos and welding screams from Florida metal band Underoath to AI-strength vocal curlicues.

Tauceti (Lilou Chelal) is a DJ / producer / composer from Lyon. As a DJ Chelal distills a dark, tropical and sensual techno with percussive and vaporous rhythms in her mix. She stands for a very particular elegance and a certain, clearly audible maturity, which makes her stand out. "Guanyin" is her very first full length - where she transfers the elegance of her sound into a very personal and unique journey.

Tauceti about "Guanyin":

I am pleased to announce the release of my very first ambient album on the Denovali label. This is probably the most personal record I produced so far, because it is in a way a tribute to my Middle Eastern and Asian origins. It is a hybrid and intimate object, at the border between futurism and cultural heritage, with a desire to approach a more contemporary environment at the limit of classical. I used traditional instrument patterns, sounds intimately linked to oriental instruments, all the while using my electronic touch composed of drone/ ambient and sound distortions. This is the result of a year of reflection and increased exploration of new frontiers in the studio, which has gradually evolved into a desire to make an album concrete. Composed of eight tracks, some of you may have heard some of them during my ambient set during the last edition of Nuits Sonores, just before Vail and Rodhad’s magnificent live performance. It’s a kind of homecoming for me, the very first tracks I produced years ago already being part of the ambient register. This is an opportunity for me to reaffirm the multi-faceted aspect of my artistic project, drawing on various aesthetic registers, between ambient and techno. I would like to warmly thank the Denovali label for their trust here, and with whom I will have the chance and the opportunity to maintain a privileged relationship for the next years.

Un-easy listening from »anti-singer« and improviser Sofia Jernberg, a celebration of the voice in its rawest, most malleable form. Jernberg was born in Ethiopia and grew up in Vietnam and Sweden, so one can only imagine these diverse languages opened up a wealth of phonetic possibilities before she entered academia to study jazz and composition. If you dive into her catalogue you’ll clock her startling range – working as a jazz soprano and as an improviser, collaborating with everyone from Stefan Schneider to Mats Gustafsson, as well as appearances on the stage and screen, most notably in Matthew Barney, Erna Ómarsdóttir, and Valdimar Jóhannsson’s »Union of the North«.

On »Voice«, Jernberg provides a ground-level entry point to her work, meticulously running through a litany of unconventional techniques (non-verbal vocalisation, split tones, toneless singing, and distortion) without any effects, just pure batshit sonics designed to show off the voice’s scope as an experimental instrument. On »Mouth Synthesizer« she purses her lips to make ratcheting pops like some analog oscillator, hoarsely mimicking the sort of blustery, Merzbow-coded distortions you might get if you patched a RAT pedal into a broken guitar amp. It isn’t an act of caricature, it’s Jernberg’s way of demonstrating that expensive modular rigs aren’t an essential tool for experimental music, before throwing a side-eye to the field recording industrial complex on »Birds«, transforming her vocal chords into a nightmare aviary. But it’s Jernberg’s startling »multiphonic« experiments that hit hardest. The album opens on »Multiphonic I«, and it’s difficult to tell that you’re listening to a human voice at first – you could just as well be on Colin Stetson’s overblown sax airstreams. Jernberg creates a captivating spiral of crooked, phased tones and hoarse, guttural croaks that she develops over three movements. On »Multiphonic II«, her voice is turned into a storm of pained shrieks, and on the third and final segment, it almost resembles Arve Henriksen or Jon Hassell’s muted brass curlicues. Each track pulls a different musical muscle, whether it’s »One Pitch« with its unsettling yodel-like quivering drones or »Gurgle«, sounding like a close mic-ed recording of a small pot gently simmering.

“Short Story” is the new album by Restive Plaggona. Eight new tracks of industrial techno beats and raw atmospheres. Over the course of 40 minutes the album takes us through different territories and landscapes of immense bass weight sound, sometimes dark and raw, sometimes droning and minimal, always energic.

Restive Plaggona is the music project of the Corfu-based artist Dimitris Doukas, known for his heavy and deep industrial soundscapes with subtle traces of darker forms of techno music. Dimitris is a particularly productive musician, having released more than a dozen records including his own imprint Several Minor Promises.

Editions Mego welcomes KMRU back to the fold. Kin is Kenyan born, Berlin based, sonic wizard Joseph Kamaru’s second release on Editions Mego, following on from the classic 2020 release Peel. Since the release and subsequent praise for Peel, the artist has been a staple on the electronic scene performing on numerous stages and festivals worldwide in tandem with a flood of media recognition. Kin could be construed as the second child following Peel. The project came out of initial discussions with Peter Rehberg about what a Peel sequel would sound like. Kamaru is quick to clarify that Kin is not that record; “I'll know when that record will come and when I'll make it. It's already happening... or maybe it lives within both of these Mego records”.

It is this deft ambiguity and vague tiptoeing around the concrete that encapsulates the ambiguous sound world of Kamaru’s vision.

Kin was started early 2021 in Nairobi with Kamaru exploring his noisier palette of sounds encompassing distortions reminiscent of the sounds he would muster from in his youth when playing guitar. He paused making this record for a year as soon as Peter died, then slowly returned to it through 2022 resulting in the immense new work we have here.

The charms within Kin lay as Easter eggs revealing the true identity behind the colourful sonics only after multiple deep listens. With Trees Where We Can See sets the tone by way of a warm swaying melody inviting the listener in for further investigation. In 2022 KMRU and Mego stalwart Fennesz toured the USA together resulting in a strong friendship and also, the second track here, Blurred. A neat Mego/Editions Mego loop as such. Blurred arranges twangy guitar strums alongside glistening glaciers of shimmering drones. They Are Here represents a darker hue as melancholic clouds of shadowy noir tap directly into the listener's nerve stream. Maybe takes a detour into a bristling euphoric electronic storm whilst We Are screeches in a pattern formation not unlike a highly abstracted Aphex Twin forcing its way out of a hard drive. By Absence concludes proceedings, operating as both exit music and a portal to further sonic investigation with acoustic bellowing residing amongst a kaleidoscopic backdrop.

Kin is a trip that rewards close repeated listens as all the colours and textures, nuance and narratives unveil themselves. This isn’t a record to be glossed over, magic rewards concentration.

Kin is a record to be Played slow and LOUD.

For Pita.

All tracks written, produced, mixed by Joseph Kamaru
Blurred co-written & produced with Christian Fennesz
Mastered by Stephan Mathieu at Schwebung Mastering
Photography: Joseph Kamaru
Layout & Design: Nik Void
Cut by Andreas Kauffelt at Schnittstelle, Berlin

Explicit isolation is the third album by the international collective E/I, led by composer and percussionist Szymon Pimpon Gąsiorek. The group’s seven core members came together while studying at Copenhagen’s Rhythmic Music Conservatory and the Royal Danish Academy of Music. For this latest release, they are joined by Slovenian musicians Samo Kutin (hurdy-gurdy) and Kaja Draksler (organ), alongside Danish tuba player Rasmus Svale.

The three compositions distill sound down to its essential elements, drifting freely through space. The material is minimal, moving in the geological rhythm of endless cycles of tension and release, formation and dissolution, density and lightness. Pimpon acts here more as a guide than a creator with a master plan. He is a navigator, leading us to the most crucial moments where sonic emissions merge into vibrating drones, building to an inevitable leap—an explosion after which the particles rearrange themselves once again. It feels like futuristic temple music infused with intergalactic spiritual jazz, the extensions of drone music, and acoustic ambient textures, all highlighted by the jolly grin of the navigator.

“I wrote the scores and asked each of the musicians to record their parts individually. What’s interesting for me about doing it this way is that it removes the element of immediate interaction and introduces a factor of randomness. I then edited and mixed it myself, also adding my own parts. Previously, it was strictly acoustic music, and the recordings were ‘live,’ meaning they were captured in one room at the same time, with no subsequent edits.” Pimpon has also incorporated electronics, which make the album even more airy and organically complement the sounds of the hurdy-gurdy and organ, recorded in Trboje, the small Slovenian village.

Allowing yourself to find meaning or beauty in the mundane is an act of generosity, Whether it’s seeing a smiling face in an electrical outlet socket, or discerning cosmic design amidst the forest floor detritus, it comes from a place of kindness to yourself and senses – and openness to hidden spirit of the world. These tracks came together during a period of intense personal change for adaa, rooted in a fruitful reflection on the connections between spirit and body, “feeling my flesh so I can feel and understand my spirit,” as adaa puts it. The sense of a crossover and clash of multiple connected realities – on-screens, on-line, on-earth, off-world, after-life – unites adaa’s multifaceted productions.

Ostensibly an assemblage of found sounds. scribbled thoughts and poems from diaries, and musial snippets, the album's scattered production reflects adaa’s own many mirror worlds. Field recording sit behind most tracks, alongside VST synths, guitars, and a variety of voices, from adaa’s own mangled vox to EVP samples taken from YouTube (recorded sounds believed to be spirits or paranormal activity), all processed to varying degrees.

While the music was mostly produced either in adaa’s studio in Providence, Rhode Island, or in bed, the field recordings bring the outside world in. The result of walks in the woods, hum of roads and highways, hiss of beaches, warmth of walks with friends and past lovers “around the East Coast”. It sits behind tracks like ‘sight’ where a lilting piano lin bobs atop a pond of rustling and distant whistles. Is that birdsong? Or ghosts? Saccharine hyperpop arpeggiation crossfades sharply into noise guitar squall. Angelic demon voices yawn into a hefty crescendo. Pure drones duet with gales of undefinable field sounds.

“Sometimes I feel like a seed in frosted soil,” says adaa. “If i choose to be optimistic.”

Inspired by witnessing the broken tension and renewed possibilities of a laptop breaking down at a gig – not to mention the void left behind by the sudden end of a relationship – Pentu’s latest release is a jump-cut menagerie of musical moments. Sewn together into ‘And I Saw My Devil And I Saw My Deep Blue Sea’, these fifteen tracks continue the London-based producer’s active departure from the soundscapes and song structures that dominated their previous writing style. These disparate pieces slice themselves off into sudden silence, or veer into unpredictable sidebars, hopping from hyperactive instrumentals to beautifully deconstructed YouTube samples. Described by Pentu as “emotionally intuitive to write”, this is music by and for the endlessly scrolling modern mind – “navigating the world alongside the splintered, interruptive emotional hyper realities of social media.”

The sudden silences, drones, and interruptions are perhaps less surprising than the guitar-based textures of metal & shoegaze woven into several vital passages by Pentu. The result is a collage that encapsulates the erratic feeling, not only of a relationship’s end, but simply of navigating online mediascapes.”I found myself realising that my phone, the constant interrupter of nothingness and silence, was both a cause of depression (reliving memories, dating apps) and a relief from it (creating new friendships, distractions, also dating apps)”, says Pentu.

Pentu’s attempt to overcome content overload by actively curbing his setup of laptop-guitar--synth does little to reduce the scope of this album’s sonic palette. YouTube vlog samples (from videos with next-to-no views) are an attempt to recontextualise and dramatise material that “would have otherwise been throwaway moments lost in the internet”, adding staccato moments of reality to Pentu’s beautiful and jarring album-length paean to overstimulation.

'Flowers', the new EP from Elizabeth Davis, finds itself at the cross-section of many factors. In part, it’s the result of Davis’ obsession with a seminal folk song. But it also coincides with her rediscovery of the voice and language as an instrument. It was recorded during an autumn residency at Sternhagen Gut, the cultural refuge run by Gudrun Gut and Thomas Fehlmann, located deep in the Uckermark countryside halfway between Berlin and the Baltic coast.

The six tracks on 'Flowers' all take Pete Seeger’s ‘60s protest-folk song 'Where Have All The Flowers Gone' as their starting point. However, they veer off in different directions, from vocal loops and deconstructed lyrics, to instrumental drones and glitchy, manipulated rhythm tracks. Like many musicians, Davis has learnt composition by a process of disassembly, analyzing musical works piece by piece, and 'Flowers' began as one such forensic exercise. “But sometimes,” says Davis, “a source is so loaded up on meaning that the studies and experiments can become worthwhile and meaningful works in their own right.” 'Flowers' began to take on a life of its own, raising renewed questions about age-old themes such as war, authorship, translation and historical structures.

Davis is no stranger to cover versions. From studying violin to playing in free jazz and punk bands, interpreting other artists’ works has long been a key part of her musical approach. And since her radio show 'Deep Puddle' recently drew to a close after seven years, her experiments with narration and sound collage have found their way into her musical work once again. For 'Flowers', she cut up the source material (with a nod to Gysin and Burroughs), and reassembled the lyrics, the musical notes, and recordings by different performers, to create uncanny new forms.

But perhaps the biggest influence on 'Flowers' was conversations about music, art and pop subcultures with Gut. These dialogues helped Davis find a balance between far-out sound design experiments and catchy melodies, combining a certain avant-garde element and modern day songcraft. And it’s this sense of conversation, this revisiting of topics and renewal of ideas, that will keep us coming back to 'Flowers' long into the future.

For the first time, all the 1978 recording sessions of Lino Capra Vaccina's legendary Antico Adagio - including Frammenti da Antico Adagio and Echi Armonici da Antico Adagio - collected in one definitive deluxe edition. Minimalism, and so much more. Sheets of resonance, stunning harmonic interplay, intricate rhythms rising as one. Sidelong works of pulsing, hypnotic, ritualistic drone built from vibraphones, marimbas, gongs, bells, and cymbals, threaded by the sustained vocal tones of Juri Camisasca and Dana Matus. A trance-inducing, meditative, cosmic world of sonic interplay - the world beyond, joined with that which lays within.

Before an aberrant idea of progress ludicrously sped up our daily lives, even in hectic Milan it was possible to "play slowly" - with no pressure, simply following the path your art was showing you. This music moves between modal fascinations, ritual evocations, and states of hypnotic trance, evoking the acoustic environment of Tibetan and Zen Buddhist ceremonies and the temporal structures of Noh theatre, from which Vaccina took the name of his original label, Nō. Now, fittingly, this complete collection appears on Ubi Kū, the label of the Italian Buddhist Union.

Lino Vaccina (1953) first gained note as a member of Aktuala, creating a hybrid of rock, avant-garde, and ancient musics while incorporating sonic traditions from across the globe. After leaving in 1974, he studied at Milano's Civica Scuola di Musica, collaborating with Franco Battiato and Juri Camisasca, and forming Telaio Magnetico in 1975. In 1978 he self-released Antico Adagio in a tiny edition and wouldn't be heard from again until 1992. From 1979 to 1985 he was percussionist with the Orchestra of Teatro alla Scala under maestros such as Abbado and Ozawa. His career has been marked by an incredibly high bar of quality and a tragically slim recorded output - a rigorous and sensual language fusing Oriental, Mediterranean, and African influences with ritual elements and a cosmic sense of time.

As Massimo Torrigiani writes: "Lino Vaccina's music captivates through its internal coherence and its ability to generate states of suspension and deep listening - through undulations, small melodic fragments, dialogues between acoustic instruments and resonances that seem to evoke a phantom orchestra. An example of personal exploration, discipline and openness that speaks across time to anyone willing to be drawn into its sound."

Frammenti da Antico Adagio and Echi Armonici da Antico Adagio contain material from the original sessions, restored and issued by Die Schachtel in 2014 and 2017. The new masters, prepared by Giuseppe Ielasi, are based on those restorations and the original material. The package includes previously unpublished photographs from the May 1978 sessions and liner notes by Mauro Radice in Italian, English, and French. Cover art by Dana Matus. Printed by Legno, Milano & Mother Tongue, Verona.

Personnel: Lino Capra Vaccina (vibraphone, marimba, tablas, wooden drums, darbuka, cymbals, gong, metal sheets, bells, bass drum, tom, snare drum, piano, voice), Dana Matus (voice, percussion, cetra), Juri Camisasca (voice), Mario Garuti (violin), Roberto Mazza (oboe). Original production by Massimo Villa & Lino Vaccina with Piero Cannizzaro. Recorded May 1978 at Circle Studios, Milano.

The heights of the Italian avant-garde, at their very best.

Across an extensive suite of enchanting miniatures, Matthias Kremsreiter and Christian Schoppik present the hypnagogic vision of Taghelle Nacht. Recording under their respective Roudi Vagou and Läuten der Seele aliases, Kremsreiter and Schoppik combine their distinct but equally accomplished instrumental practices into a new collaboration that weaves swooning samples amongst instrumental passages. They lead us through 16 vignettes that revel in the cognitive dissonance and seductive magic of moonlight at midnight.

Both artists have past form within the folds of contemporary experimental electronic music in Germany. Kremsreiter's work as alibikonkret has manifested on DIY tape releases created with a methodical, technically-minded approach. Debuting his Roudi Vagou pseudonym on Taghelle Nacht, he pivots to a more playful, instinctively felt method that allows the compositions to flow with a natural cadence. Schoppik has been a key figure in the celebrated dark-ambient-folk scene, not least as part of the group Brannten Schnüre. His work as Läuten der Seele includes the acclaimed 'water trilogy' of LPs between 2022 and 2024, with a greater emphasis on instrumental, atmospheric production, and a last, stunning collaborative album with Nový Sv?t's Jota Solo.

On Taghelle Nacht the precise ingredients of each piece soften at the edges as tape loops and swathes of reverb seal the joints between spellbinding melodic refrains. Opening track and lead single 'Gleisende Lichter' sets the tone with ghostly murmurs, spine-tingling string refrains and splashes of cymbal that cut through the gloom with stark clarity. A lilting romanticism stirs at the heart of the orchestral samples that populate the likes of "Grenzu?berschreitung" - old-world beauty sometimes buried in dust, elsewhere rendered with startling clarity. 'So Süß' lets buzzing, sustained drones and dissonant sweeps of extended technique glide in and out of each other. Granular processing subtly breaks apart the mellow swell on 'Komischer Anruf', and forlorn sax calls out into heavy-hearted space on 'Glaskopf Mit Watte'. At every turn a new scene is painted, distinct from the last and yet all bound up in the pervasive, pale blue light cast over the sleeping landscape Kremsreiter and Schoppik have sculpted.

Snatches of song drift by like dreamlike fragments, and achingly tender flourishes fleetingly appear and retreat - ideas and expressions momentarily caught in the light before retreating into the shadows once more. This is the evocative world of Taghelle Nacht - an unsettling depiction of the surreal blend of memories and imagination that merge into each other once the sun goes down.

Bombastic yet delicate, crushing yet ethereal, driving yet dark, Temptress fuse drone, doom, grunge and hardcore into an obliterating molten blend. Temptress are a jigsaw of sonic touchstones with no audible seams. Bombastic yet delicate, crushing yet ethereal, driving yet dark, the trio fuse drone, doom, post-rock, grunge and hardcore into a molten blend that creeps and obliterates like a liquid metal assassin. With 200+ shows played in their relatively short tenure, Temptress' endless ideas and nuances slide perfectly into place thanks to its members' vast live experience. New album hear churns with searing hooks and dissonant grooves in an irresistible confluence of ideas, and fans of multi-voiced, genre-tag resistant bands like Heavy Temple, The Well and Hippie Death Cult should prepare to be drawn in by Temptress' unyielding allure. Multicolored LP (Molten Smoke Ed., pressed on transparent sepia, clear and black marbled vinyl, w/ lyrics sheet) & digipaked CD on offer!

Mit dem Original Soundtrack zu Star Trek: Insurrection erscheint eines der letzten großen Werke des legendären Filmkomponisten Jerry Goldsmith in einer hochwertigen, limitierten Vinyl-Ausgabe. Die Musik kombiniert klassische orchestrale Star-Trek-Themen mit neuen, emotionalen und abenteuerlichen Klangwelten, die die Atmosphäre des neunten Star-Trek-Kinofilms eindrucksvoll widerspiegeln.

Diese LP richtet sich nicht nur an eingefleischte Star-TrekFans, sondern auch an Liebhaber hochwertiger Filmmusik und Vinyl-Sammler. Die warmen, detailreichen Klangfarben des Orchesters kommen auf Vinyl besonders zur Geltung und machen diese Veröffentlichung zu einem echten Highlight jeder Soundtrack-Sammlung.

Active for 40 years, Nurse with wound is one of the projects of Steven Stapleton, materialized in a very wide range of hysterical noise over sound collages and cut ups, abstract music, soothing drones and surreal sound paintings, and more rhythmical and mechanical pieces, always inspired by Dadaism and Futurism, Krautrock, jazz improvisation, surrealism, never losing his main goal, that is having fun and enjoying himself.He has had many collaborators, a recurrent one in the 80s and 90’s being Current 93’s David Tibet, another noticeable one still at work with him is Andrew Liles.The main line of this unpredictable sound builder is hectic and uncompromised, his point of view is that everything is possible and applies it to himself. As a youngster he wanted to be an artist so decided he was one . He is not a musician, and says he has no interest in becoming one. Surprisingly, (or not!), the love of his life is building sculptures out of recycled and reclaimed materials, building things with anything, even junk. And sounds, we are a witness to it.With these very strange juxtapositions of styles and manners, female rap music and 50s and 60s lounge music having a special top priority in Steven’s tastes, and a creativity that has no bounds no taboos, with a taste of novelty every time, Nurse with wound will no doubt continue to surprise people listening to his works, and himself, as he wants to keep it fresh every time, mostly for him.