Suche:dust layer

Mai Mai Mai’s artistic path has never rested on laurels, it’s been a constant evolution, a profound and poetic research, a dark and dusty journey through awareness and collaborations where the heart of the process has always been about building connections and understanding people and their rituals. Mai Mai Mai’s new album ‘Karakoz’ was mostly recorded in Palestine (Ramallah and Bethlehem) in 2024 during an ongoing genocide and follows his acclaimed Southern Gothic double-album ‘Rimorso’. The album opens a new chapter for the Roma based artist, a deeply personal record where his traditional industrial miasma flows into a weeping vortex of spiritual hymns, Mediterranean hauntology and Middle Eastern chants of sorrow, carrying the despair of a battered population and matching the fighting hope with echoes of ambient bliss. Recorded during his artistic residency in collaboration with Radio Alhara and Wonder Cabinet, the album is the result of an immersive six-week residency between January and May 2024, in Bethlehem and Ramallah, where Mai Mai Mai delved deep into the traditional music of Palestine, meeting and collaborating with local musicians, exploring archives, and recording the resonances of the land. This deep engagement allowed him to unearth the intricate layers of Palestinian sonic heritage, weaving them into his own sonic language.

Seit etwas mehr als einem Jahrzehnt hat sich EXEK ganz leise zu einer der faszinierendsten Bands der Welt entwickelt, die sich von Album zu Album verändert und weiterentwickelt und sich nach und nach geöffnet hat, ohne jemals diese seltsame, unergründliche und insgesamt essentielle Eigenschaft zu verlieren, die sie so großartig gemacht hat - so EXEK-mäßig. Nun bringt die Post-Punk-Band aus Melbourne - Sänger und Chefarchitekt Albert Wolski, Gitarrist Jai Morris-Smith, Schlagzeuger Chris Stephenson, Synthesizer-Spezialist Andrew Brocchi, Trompeterin und Sängerin Valya YL Hooi und Bassist Ben Hepworth - ihr siebtes Album und erstes für DFA raus: ,Prove The Mountains Move". Es ist, wie Wolski sagt, ,ein bisschen epischer" als alles, was er bisher aufgenommen hat, ein üppiges und unverhohlen melodisches Set surrealistischer Popmusik, das sich in Widersprüchen suhlt. ,Dieses Album ist in seiner Machart experimentell", sagt Wolski, ,aber es klingt nicht unbedingt experimentell." Dafür gibt es einen guten Grund. Die Arbeit begann an einem kalten Nachmittag im Juni 2023, als Wolski und Stephenson sich in den Pelican Refill Studios in Melbourne trafen, um die Drums aufzunehmen - das erste, was sie immer machen. Danach ging Wolski alleine nach Hause und fing an, die aufgenommenen Beats und Breaks durchzugehen, wobei er sich von den Drum-Sounds zu Melodien und Basslines leiten ließ, Loops und Layers erstellte und so die Grundlage für ,Prove The Mountains Move" schuf. ,Ich fühle mich wohl dabei, alleine wie ein verrückter Wissenschaftler herumzutüfteln", sagt er. ,Ich habe es auch genossen, ohne klare Absicht auf Aufnahme zu drücken. Meistens führte mich das in eine interessante Richtung, die mein Bewusstsein wahrscheinlich nicht gesucht hätte." Und doch gelangte Wolski irgendwie zu seinem direktesten Werk seit Beginn des Projekts, neu inspiriert von der Klarheit und Prägnanz des Mainstream-Pop, der starken und unbestreitbaren Anziehungskraft einer einfachen Gesangsmelodie. Nachdem die berühmt-berüchtigten strengen COVID-Lockdowns in Melbourne beendet waren, wollte er einfach draußen bleiben. ,Die Arbeit an neuer Musik trat gegenüber dem Feiern mit Freunden in den Hintergrund", sagt er. ,Und diese Partys waren voller großer Hits als Soundtrack - Sachen, die ich selbst nicht wirklich hörte, Sachen, denen ich seit meiner Jugend nicht mehr begegnet war. Aber in den frühen Morgenstunden des Sonntags klingt ,Alive" von Pearl Jam, als würde man mit Gott sprechen. Genauso wie ,All I Wanna Do" von Sheryl Crow und ,Feel" von Robbie Williams. Krautrock und Dub waren immer noch in meiner DNA, aber die Musik, die ich zu machen begann, war vielleicht etwas unbeschwerter und vielleicht auch etwas emotionaler." Das heißt nicht, dass man hier Spuren von Eddie Vedder in Wolskis Gesang erwarten sollte, aber die Einsätze fühlen sich auf ihre eigene Weise ähnlich an - so klingt es, wenn EXEK wirklich alles geben. Nimm zum Beispiel die schwebenden Synthesizer des Openers ,Sidestepping" oder die gewaltigen Gitarren von ,Arriverderci Back Pain", die pyrotechnischen Klavierklänge von ,Don't Answer (When They Call)" oder die Bowie-artige Melancholie von ,You Have Been Blessed". Die Arrangements wirken offener, der Sound fokussierter. Es fällt nicht schwer, Wolski zu glauben, wenn er sagt, dass er viel Zeit damit verbracht hat, seine Mixe von ,Prove The Mountains Move" mit einigen der wichtigsten Alben, die je aufgenommen wurden, darunter ,Abbey Road", zu vergleichen. Aber alles ist relativ. Und textlich bleibt Wolski weiterhin verschlüsselt. ,Jeder Song ist eine Vignette in einem abstrakten Milieu, sei es ein experimentelles Chiropraktik-Geschäft am Flughafen oder spärlich bekleidete Kreaturen aus Staub in einem Food Court. Egal wie verrückt das auch sein mag, es gibt Themen und Motive auf dem gesamten Album, sowohl textlich als auch musikalisch, die sich in verschiedenen Songs widerspiegeln und aufeinander Bezug nehmen." Diese Dissonanz zwischen direkt und indirekt, glatt und strukturiert, schattig und glühend, verrückt und ausdruckslos ist die treibende Kraft im Herzen dieser Songs, seiner bisher besten.

Big Sigh brings together the best of Marika's previous works as an indie musician and adds a new layer of epic sounds and full-bodied production. Big Sigh is the "hardest record" Marika has ever made. As the title suggests, it is a relief of sorts - of sadness, of stress and lust, but mostly relief. Co-produced with Sam Petts Davies (Frank Ocean, Radiohead, Red Hot Chilli Peppers) & Charlie Andrew (Alt J, Wolf Alice, London Grammar). Lyrically there's always romance a longside grief, with elements of vulnerability and feeling trapped. "This album took a long time I got to the end of it I was quiet. I wanted to be away from it and let it sit in its own space. Now the dust has settled and I've got to re-enter the world of big sigh, and I'm excited." Stepping into a new world, moving forward, chipping away. Breath in, breath out. Big sigh."

“There's a clarity here that feels hard-won. Honing ideas first explored with his Organic Music series, Tiago Sousa unlocks the final puzzle pieces on Sustained Tones Vol 1. This music is enchanted, the way each layer moves in conjunction with the others: complex structures that feel less constructed than discovered, like stumbling upon ancient mechanisms still whirring beneath the earth. "Readily Reliance" opens as an effervescent sea, waves gilded in neon creating an enveloping sense of eternal motion. Bright organ timbres throw silhouettes and cast Sousa as the deft puppeteer keeping everything moving with an effortless precision. These evolving shapes suspend listeners somewhere between the physical and the cosmic, held in place by nothing but intention and sound.

Drones build rippling foundations in other places, using slower tempos to construct immersive, off-kilter sound worlds where minimalism becomes emotive, almost poignant. The fluctuating tones have a gossamer sheen, creating this interesting sonic dichotomy: a solid surface with fragile rotations beneath. It's music that commands attention; it is so much more than simply aural furniture. Sousa writes these beautiful sequences that are all interconnected, intricate sonic architecture that pulls us further into some kind of unknowable ether.

On the piano pieces, "Smooth Flow Into It" and "Swirling Mist and Thin Dust," Sousa shines sunlight through all the cracks. Washes of melody are effervescent, clouds clearing to reveal the day has not gone. Not yet. Positioned in the middle of Sustained Tones Vol 1, these pieces ground the album in something transcendent yet still earthen: moments of breath inside all that cosmic drift. Darkness finds its way through on "Restlessness," where Sousa smears sinuous electronics into a ghostly sonic mesh that seeps through the skin. It feels like a slow inhale, time suspended long enough to take note of where we are and how we feel before moving forward. Expressive, almost sparkling synth arrangements return to send us back into reality on closer "Becoming a Landscape." Its title hints at larger concepts at play throughout this album, where lines between our physical beings and the wider environment are blurred. The tones that echo throughout these six pieces mirror the echoes inside our bodies, from heartbeats and voices to something quieter, something much smaller and more elemental. By immersing us inside these mesmerising, beautiful soundscapes, Sousa immerses us within ourselves.’’

Brad Rose, 2025

Groggy, engrossing new work from Ulla under their newly minted U.e. tag, riffing to the sublime on a set of (mostly) acoustic reveries that tap into the kind of smokey vapours favoured by the likes of Vincent Gallo, Voice Actor, Jonnine.

A new year, label, album and handle for Ulla, a multifaceted artist who has draped our pages with wonder, under numerous aliases and collabs, for almost a decade. On ‘Hometown Girl’ they distill transience and flux into a quiet set of chamber works subtly resembling the room recorded nuance of their ‘Jazz Plates’ side with Perila - here taken a step further into more elusive, low-lit dimensions.

In a mode that’s wistful and melancholic, listening to the album’s dozen discrete pieces feels like leafing thru a journal of hand-written notes, reflecting on the feelings that come with separation from loved ones and displacement from familiarity. Ulla performed and recorded all of the instruments themselves, lending a tangible tactility to layered arrangements of woodwind, keys, strings, drums and voice, lightly speckled with electronics and perfused with open window field recordings.

They locate a crackling frisson of personality in the voice notes and day-dreaminess of their mottled inscapes, gauzily demarcating lines between past and present selves. In that aesthetic and approach we can also hear similarities to Jonnine’s blue-skied ‘Southside Girl’ or crys cole’s poetic sensuality, often leaning into the domestic surreal.

A frayed, opening salutation ‘Good Morning’ signals a delirious half hour in Ulla’s company, variously swaying to the downstroked jazz swing of a ‘Lavender (NF)’ spritzed with clarinet, whilst ‘Froggy Explorer’ stirs the air like Jan Jelinek on a barely-there tip. The Basinski-esque fritz of degraded loops really snags the imagination along with a twinkling nightlight ‘Ball’, as the album opens out into its most fully resolved songs with a closing couplet of disarming wonders ‘Drawing of Me’, and a blurry ‘Mute’ that feels like Ulla 〜almost〜 reveals too much before retreating back into the shadows.

UK legend Eddie Richards is a foundational tech house artist who should be as celebrated as any of the US house greats if you ask us. For this next outing on likethis, the onetime Wiggle man digs into his 24-carat gold back catalogue to revisit a couple of gems and give them a contemporary update. 'Be Still' is sweet groove perfection - a weighty, springy bassline underlining crisp kicks and metal hits while an erotic vocal whispered in your ear raises the pulse even further. 'AbsurED' then layers up some light-emitting dub chords with dusty drum loops designed to carry you late into the night on pure vibes. Top tip!

The highly anticipated collaborative album, GOLDFISH, sees two of contemporary hip-hop's most revered and distinct production minds, Hit-Boy and The Alchemist, finally join forces for a full-length statement. Far from a simple beat-swap, this project is a masterclass in sonic cohesion, blurring the lines between their signature sounds to forge a new, golden-hued identity. Beyond production, the duo step from behind the boards to behind the mic to trade verses throughout the project, adding a personal layer to their creative vision.

GOLDFISH is a deeply immersive listen, perfectly balancing the West Coast muscle and polished, anthemic quality of Hit-Boy's work with the dusty, abstract texture and cinematic suspense that defines The Alchemist's aesthetic.

The result is a sound that feels both street-tested and museum-worthy. A collaborative manifesto, showcasing the infinite possibilities when two generational talents decide to link up, creating an instant classic in the canon of producer/MC albums.

DJ Popinjay balances fresh cuts with beloved favourites on his new one for the irrepressible Blur. The title track opens with silky keys and mellow percussion that capture the warmth of golden hour, while 'Whyalla' brings breezy pads and crisp beats to organic percussive. Reissued highlights like opener 'Take U' have filtered soul magic, and 'Not Too Shabby' brings dusty funk and jazzy cool, while 'So Much Fun' bursts with disco-fueled joy. The closer, 'Soul Searching' has swinging, Chic-style grooves and layers up endlessly playable house vibes.

Bristol via NYC's DJ Nature makes house and beatdown so raw, dusty and dishevelled it feels like it's been put together in an old shed with rudimentary hand tools and might just collapse at any moment. But it is also brilliantly soulful and real, with synths infusing each loose arrangement with real heat and the drum patterns connecting deeply. Across four cuts here, he layers up those signature low ends with different motifs - funkier drums and watery melodies on 'Shattering Myths,', r&b vocal swirls on 'One' and unusual synth incantations on 'Medusa Weed', while 'Eternal Winter' is a subtle celebration with gentle charm. Another superb EP from a unique producer.

Straight out of the local mud of the city of Antwerp comes dancing this next Souvenirs from Imaginary Cities slab of free-flowing bits of electronic wonder : Schönen Abend by Simon B. Just in time to ease you out of this endless winter and right into springtime. Like the previous hit by Purple Uncle, this flower takes some time to bloom and fill up your head and body with it's ear wormy fragrance.

It's hazy and cinematic, makes you think of Italian electronic pioneers and their library magic, Patrick Cowley's School Daze and Haruomi Hosono in some kind of gothic manner. It's quite stripped and lush at the same time, rhythms like minimal mechanics make you fly above the river and land just outside reality. It's a nice place where soft jazz tingles right around the dark corner, and that particular mix of exotica and melancholia — the trademark of this port city's best electronic auteurs is definitely in the air. The river still shines, but she’s deeply poisoned. The old town has lost every bit of fresh air but keeps on digging for old gold. This bitter pill is served with delicacy and lightness, the wound is dressed up seductively — feet in the mud, head in the air. Stuff is sensuous, with quiet places reminding of the good side of those times when the big wheel stopped turning ever so madly. A strange quietness whistles through the leaves. Some things take time to unfold. In or out of C.

Four years in the making, this is the solo debut LP of Simon B, a longtime contributor to Antwerp's improvised music scene (Groovecats Deluxe, Wij Blij Trio ). Primarily a double bass player, he also has a deep-felt passion for offbeat electronica and the rainbowy side of American minimalism, which takes front here. The smoky voice on the last track belongs to Nina-Joy Thielemans, Nina-Joy is part of Particals, a trio working with live electronics and field recordings, releasing an lp on Ultra Eczema later this year. Furthermore, you can hear the tenor and soprano saxophone of Adia Van Heerentals on 4 tracks, deepening out Simon's naturally flowing compositions and playing around with his melodies. You may know her from Bodem and her strong presence in the Belgian jazz scene lately.

Simon's electroacoustic experiments — using a clarinet and some outboard effects — were important tools in finding the very specific colour of this record. There's this airy character, like wind blowing through old layers of bricks and over the river, anchored with a deep sense of bass, gathering ages of dust and memories in these eight elegantly wobbling tracks, forming a perfect whole that’s really coming together in one deep listening from A to Z.

The centrepiece is perhaps Come to Me, instrumental and reprise with vocals, but no fillers on this one. Every part of the mystery is needed to come to its end and back again. It's a record that works in the morning, to open up a day and in the quiet corners of the night, with it's sleazy quirkiness, smiling towards you from the right corner of the eye. A perfect compagnon for your long-form wandering habits, light reflections on a wet surface obsessions, coffee slurping in the morning and the forgotten art of beachcombing. Quite essential these days, witnessing a world going apeshit.

A transatlantic masterpiece, "Mystery Merxhant" is a vivid sonic journey that fuses the smooth, raw lyricism of Bahamian rapper Obijuan with the cinematic, dusty soundscapes crafted by UK producer Giallo Point. Together, they weave an immersive tale of introspection, hustle, and mystique.

Obijuan’s deep, measured delivery glides effortlessly over Giallo Point's expertly layered beats, which are steeped in rich samples, haunting melodies, and boom-bap drums. Each track feels like a page from an ancient, esoteric scroll, with Obijuan delivering cryptic rhymes that balance between wisdom and wit. Survival, self-reliance, and spiritual alignment blend with hypnotic loops, shadowy and noir-inspired tones and cinematic vibes.

This collaboration solidifies Obijuan and Giallo Point as formidable artists in the underground scene, bringing a fresh yet nostalgic sound that invites listeners to lose themselves in the depths of its artistry.

"The Cream Tape" is a gritty yet stylish showcase from Toronto’s The 6th Letter and Buffalo’s Billie Essco, entirely produced by Raz Fresco and released through his BKRSCLB label. Raz's signature production, which layers vintage soul and jazz samples with dusty drums and atmospheric textures, provides a cinematic backdrop that suits both MCs’ lyrical swagger and contemplative tones.

With sharp verses from Raz Fresco himself on select tracks, the album has a distinct cohesion that blends lyrical dexterity with refined production, and also featurwes Jae Skeese, a rising force from Conway The Machine's Drumwork crew, adding a potent Buffalo flavor.

The artwork by Harvey Dentist perfectly complements the album’s vibe, referencing the bold aesthetics of streetwear and modern art, with nods to BAPE and KAWS that echo the album's sense of style and substance. A project that brings together the best of both cities, "The Cream Tape" fuses grimy lyricism with artful production, creating a polished yet raw addition to the hip-hop landscape.

Le Corbeau, the brainchild of Oystein Sandsdalen (Serena Maneesh), has become a formidable collective. here with a trilogy of albums spanning eight years. Why such a productive group choses to release twenty-seven songs simultaneously may be a greater reflection on the myopic nature of record labels -The mystic deities of noir have returned. "The band"s sound bows to the vestiges of V.U., Sonic Youth, and Lynchian glamour- but each of the three albums show ambition to go beyond, by player freedom and improv, exploring textural layers, and nuancing each groove. Many songs remind us what we loved in 2009`s Evening Chill / Montreal of the Mind - surrealistic, seductive, draped in velvet. Some circle to the familiar with punk fuzz and playful themes, like "1000 eyed behemoth": about leaving Oslo"s night life behind. Other times, they are creators of their own classics. Opening track to VI: Sun Creeps Up the Wall, "Blossom with an Evil Light" recorded between 2017-2018, illuminates a a new path of change. The long anticipation is over- come enter the murky and magical waters of Le Corbeau." -Ann Sung-an Lee

Moving freely through time and space via experimental DIY recordings since 2009, Joasihno return with their fourth album "Spots".

“Find your spot in the shade,” a truly laid-back and incredibly soft-spoken MC once advised, yet in a world that seems to get shadier every day, it’s probably time to finally get out and face the sun. Southern German experimental pop duo Joasihno – initial solo founder Cico Beck (The Notwist, Aloa Input, Spirit Fest) and drummer/composer Nico Sierig (Instrument, Fehler Kuti) – seem to know exactly when it’s time to shine. Idiosyncratic genre tweakers since day one, they have been operating at their own pace, mostly staying in their own shady corner. Yet, almost a decade after their most recent “Meshes” (an album that came with a whole legion of tiny music robots), it’s high time for them to take over more corners, to reclaim even more spots between lo-fi and sci-fi, retro electronica and contemporary classic. Drawing upon influences as varied as Reich, Riley, and Ryuichi, múm, Meek, and Moondog, while also nodding to other experimental twosomes (e.g. The Books), the duo’s fourth full-length “Spots” is set to arrive via Alien Transistor in late 2025.

Leaving soulless automation and all things artificial to others, Joasihno launch the latest record on “2 Squares” that feel like a peaceful, almost bucolic version of retro space age: lights blink ever so softly as easy-going bass tones point at today’s introspective flight arc. Electronic shapes align and things lift off – with a majestic 8-bit sunrise soon appearing right in front of us. Whereas playful title song “Spots” is a miniature Rube Goldberg kind of device, with quirky plucked strings and glitches setting off more and more contraption layers, “Crackleboom” is uncharted energy, an open landscape, an expanding bonfire that leads to a long-forgotten piano, all dust-covered in some kind of saloon. Space might be only noise to others, here, it’s foreboding screeches (“Dizzle Whistle”) that make room for A-side center piece “Forest Lights”: a steady beat that lures us to a clearance in the woods. Things break and shatter in the distance, but this spot right here is for hypnosis, dancing, sylvan spirits. And yeah, it’s surprisingly hot down here in the undergrowth…

Opening side B with a fun banger that takes the unhinged dancing to the playground – “Characa Orb.” feels like French kids on swings going crazy, a tipsy, tongue-in-cheek electro blow-out between Oizo and Orbis Tertius –, things get even more cinematic throughout the second half. Even the cheapest, lo-fiest gear is sufficient to make “The Slow Hour” glow like true, timeless pop royalty. In fact, the very same pop spirits roam and celebrate freely in the chirpy coves of mesmerizing “Detune Lagoon” – more hand-crafted sci-fi/lo-fi loops you’ll only find after facing the ghosts of Lynch or Sakamoto on those night-time trails under the “Deep Moon”. It’s all DIY spots, spots that leave room to dream or dangle, drape yourself over or dive into. Returning to the leafy bower on a melancholy post rock tip, we eventually learn that “Death Is Real” – and so we’re left with a laterna magica that turns and turns and turns. It’s a beautiful spot where light and shadows keep on dancing, just like they’ve always done, ever since the dawn of this madcap universe.

'Songs and Bodies' is best described as hypnagogic post-rock, an impressionistic blur of dissociated riffs, jazzy rhythms and half-heard voices that casts a beguiling digital silhouette of '90s indie music. The album began as a personal experiment, a question that emerged as Piotr Kurek cast his mind back to the era that birthed bands like Gastr del Sol, Bark Psychosis, Labradford and The Sea and Cake. Curious how this music might sound in today’s cultural climate, he started recording sketches at home on guitar and keyboard, applying the same advanced processing, editing and manipulation techniques that had nourished his last run of albums. Early on, he brought in drummer Mateusz Rychlicki and bassist Wojciech Traczyk, layering their performances into the evolving material. These ideas might have remained in that unvarnished state had Unsound not suggested a live performance of the work in October 2024. Spurred by the invitation, Kurek hardened his resolve, finishing a crumpled, uncanny set of half-songs that extend the chimerical sonic universe of the jazz-inspired 'Smartwoods' and its baroque predecessor 'Peach Blossom'.

Not an exercise in nostalgia, 'Songs and Bodies' is an examination of the '90s and '00s experimental rock canon that isolates its humanity as the world stares down a new technological dawn. At a glance, Kurek's songs are remarkably organic, diaphanous guitar-led meditations embellished with era-specific organ and electric piano vamps, cryptic vocal utterances and dusty drums, but it's all an illusion. Listen a little closer and the wrinkles appear—the robotic, garbled articulations, awkward tempo fluctuations and charming hiccups.

Kurek distills these vulnerabilities and blemishes to present a deeply personal but relatable abstraction of familiar sounds and gestures. It's the closest the composer has come to old-fashioned songwriting, but the end result is the same: an invitation to look beyond the frosted glass of an increasingly digital existence.

This album is a clear evolution in their journey and yet a distinct departure from Ahkatari"s debut. "Blood: Act I" sees the Detroit duo double down on the grit and dive even deeper into the streets. Whitaker"s beats are grainy, layered and dusty. His sample selection and ability to manipulate is as much a part of the storytelling as Ahk"s lyrics.

Guilherme Granado & Bruno Abdala reunite for a second volume of beats, jazz ghosts and synth-funk dust.
Following their first outing earlier this year (Vol. 1 on Sucata Tapes / SUC66), the duo returns with a bigger, deeper, and smoother bang on Vol. 2 – Filhos.
The grooves remain intact, expanding on the raw funk blueprint of Vol. 1 — now infused with Tropicália-rooted freedom, Sun Ra-style celestial chaos, and a tighter, more confident feel. The sonic palette is rich and eclectic: samplers, bells, analog synths, drums, marimba, vibraphone, bass, violas, and more are layered into a warm, rhythmic tapestry that honours the past while forging new sonic terrain.
At its core, Filhos (Portuguese for "Sons") is a tribute to lineage and tradition. It reflects the idea that we are all shaped by what came before — and through music, Guilherme & Bruno honor that legacy while pushing it into the future.

Deep black, with ghostly glimmers of an old car melting into the tarmac: the cover of Never En-ding Rodeo sets the tone. This isn't just a late-night drive, but a controlled skid across the borders of Post-Rock, Noise and Psych. The engine roars, the ground shakes, the white lines blur. Six years after the release of Ain't That Mayhem, the Lyon-based band returns with a dense, smoke-veiled record. Never Ending Rodeo: a deceptively playful, almost cartoonish title for such an intense album. As if, after circling endlessly around dust, bucking, and stampedes, Zëro had carved out its own orbit. Unstable, inevitably. But magnetic. Éric Aldéa (guitar, vocals), Franck Laurino (drums), Ivan Chiossone (Persephone, synths), and now Varou Jan (guitar, bass) - (Le Peuple de l'Herbe, Condense) - have lost none of their bite. Better still: this new album marks a turning point in production quality, thanks in particular to the mixing work of Niko Matagrin. The sound is broader, more inhabited. Every snare crack, every synth layer sits precisely in a meticulously sculpted space. "As if Tom Waits had collided with Nine Inch Nails. Before a frightening modernity hurled this so-nic convoy into a headlong rush." ~ Indiepoprock "You don't simply pass through Never Ending Rodeo: you step inside, you lock yourself in, drawn irresistibly by its magnetism." ~ Solénopole

With their musical roots deeply immersed in the fertile soil of Afro-American music, the Buttshakers have found a new direction for their nostalgia-heavy soul music. With Lessons In Love, their third album on Underdog Records, their early heartaches and furies have faded in favor of a more composed harmony – a sound enveloped in love and soaked in the blues. Guided by their singer Ciara Thompson, the Buttshakers have taken a more intimate path, whose compass, in the chaos of emotions and the modern world, points only in one direction: the light.



Seen from the sky, the view appears limitless. Accentuated by the sun, the ochre and sandy hues of the open road only reinforce this feeling of immensity. The sky stretches and the green stands out in striking contrast. In lighter tones, a road is drawn -- without bends or contours. This is the worn and weary road of soul music, which The Buttshakers explore on each album in new and unique ways. Soul music – a rare place to find a French band.

Vast, the musical direction could have taken them to lighter pastures. Yet the Buttshakers chose to evolve in a different way; to take a heavier load. Two paths – one sparked by social unrest, the other purely sentimental, Lessons In Love explores the deep roots of soul music, in the steps of Curtis Mayfield or Al Green. It is here that the heart and mind cross paths, merge, and become one. A weary road -- that brings together the agitation of a world where good intentions never rise above the level of digital outrage, and a faith in love which, however it manifests and expresses itself, remains the only truth that never loses its power.



Less rage and more compassion, it is through the haunting words and now tempered inflection of Ciara Thompson's voice, which opens to distinct emotions and perspectives, that the listener is guided. With its gaze fixed on the horizon, the acoustic guitar of Gotta Believe invites us on an intimate stroll through the open plains, while Dream On carries us away with a clavinet riff and a possessed saxophone; reconnecting the electric heat and neurosis of a city full of dreams. The senses are moved by the conjuring potion of the guitar which distills throughout Troubled Waters; the body is brought back into a visceral dance by the keys and brass section that are put to the test by Sure As Sin and its irrepressible rhythm. Passing through clouds of dust and sand has left a bluesy imprint on their groove: the miles travelled became hundreds, then thousands.



All of this leaves the listener bewitched by the halo of resilience that now surrounds Ciara's performance, as the ten tracks let the light fade. But certainly not hope in a better day. Like the sunflower that always lifts its head towards the sun’s rays, the Buttshakers continue to resource their sounds in the deep roots of soul music. Into the rich layers of African-American music of the 60s and 70s, The Buttshakers capture the spirit as much as the musical aesthetics of the epoch. A sound that reaches into the meanderings of the soul, bringing light to dark places and hope for all. A sound for the most parched of hearts, living in a damaged world, Lessons In Love confirms that even the tiniest beam of light can illuminate one’s path.

Berlin-Hamburg duo Session Victim return to the ever-reliable Delusions Of Grandeur imprint with Chapter Two of their Sidequests trilogy, marking yet another high point in their almost twenty year journey through heartfelt, sample-rich music. Overflowing with analog warmth, sundrenched textures and irresistible grooves, the release also features a stellar remix from label cofounder and deep house pioneer Jimpster who kicks off the EP. Here he takes Behind The Glass into spaced out house-not-house territory. With crisp drum programming, trademark Rhodes, and subtle pads that build over time, his version delivers that late-night sophistication he's known for—steering the downtempo original in a clubbier direction without losing its blissed-out essence. Up next we have a brand new collaborative effort with long time friend, label mate and fellow sample nerd Nebraska. Make It Happen is a dusty, slo-mo house groove featuring delicate keys, euphoric strings and that unmistakable sense of journey. It’s just the kind of low-slung epic house they do best—intimate yet club-ready, nostalgic but never retro. Flipping over, Too Soft To Be Loud, another collaboration with Viken Arman, follows with a jazzy, almost samba-esque rhythm and swirling atmospherics. Loose percussion, catchy guitar riffs and Rhodes stabs collide with off-kilter dub FX and soft vocal snippets giving the track a laid-back, live-band feel that harks back to their See You When You Get There era. Hubcap Candy dives deep into funk territory. Nebraska’s on point boogie bassline drives the track forward as crunchy drums and layers of synths create a dreamlike haze. It’s loopy, moody, and finds Session Victim at their very best. Closing out the EP we have the original of Behind The Glass, a headsy, beatdown piece that slowly unfolds over an unconventional brass-like bassline and delicate guitar textures, paying homage to the golden age of Trip Hop haziness and it’s pioneer turntable spirit. Blending crate-digging sensibilities with forward-thinking production, this latest release solidifies Session Victim’s reputation as genre-blurring tastemakers, and their chemistry with Delusions Of Grandeur remains as strong as ever

Decades on, the time has come for Island Issues, in collaboration with Onis, to proudly dust off a selection of César de Melero & Mr. Claude’s productions that have shaped the highs of countless nights.
Side A opens with D.O.D.’s “1, 2, 3, 4”, a trusted tool for DJs worldwide since 1997. While the elusive “De Pompidou’s Mix”, previously only available on the Sónar ’99 CD compilation, makes its first appearance on vinyl, revealing a deeper, late-night dimension. On the flip, D.D.D.’s “Moovin’ (Bisexual Mix)” channels pure 1996 rave energy, turning the core sample shared with the A-side into a raw and infectious groove. Closing the record, “The Struggle” weaves a James Baldwin speech into layers of warm, old-school deepness, sustaining tension and purpose until the very last bar.
Dedicated to Pro-Zak Trax founder Alex Lamarque.

"Astral Americana hymns hovering somewhere between the dirt and the stars" Pitchfork

"Mood music for moments of solitude, best experienced without distraction" The Times

"Overwhelmingly effective and ravishingly beautiful" The Wire

American Dust is an ode to the beauty of the American Southwest, where vast desert landscapes hold stories both stark and tender. Eve Adams’ characteristic folk noir weaves a vivid tapestry of love, sacrifice and quiet revelation, conjuring images of dust storms, stray dogs and far off trains.

The high desert of California is a vast and confounding place. Equally inspiring as it is punishing, it’s a landscape that carries magic in its deep dark nights, holding stories both tender and stark in the coarse layer of dust that settles upon everything. It’s long been a source of inspiration for musicians, writers, and painters, each of them adding to the same current, carried forward over time, through hope and hardship and the passing years.

Somewhere out there in that broad and boundless landscape, Eve Adams has been living her own desert life, quietly writing the follow-up to 2021’s Metal Bird LP. Where that album sang of liminal space, the dream-like turbulence of Hollywood’s golden age, American Dust is far more rooted in traditional storytelling; a eulogy for the American Dream channeled through that sweeping part of the country that holds such power and mystery. Slipping into different and varied costumes throughout its ten songs, it finds Eve not just observing the people around her but stepping into their shoes and peeling back the layers of their quiet lives.

Adams writes from within. A few years ago she moved out there, to “the middle of nowhere”, finding a slowness that didn’t exist in the city, and she knows only too well about the mystical nature of the land and those who live within it. Weaving together themes of grit and romance, American Dust holds its focus on the bittersweet poetry of lives lived in solitude, most notably the women who sustain life at the center of it all. “There’s something very radical about domestic life,” Adams says of this thread. “So many women live their entire lives behind closed doors, completely in the shadows. Within those lives is such sacrifice, devotion, and love. I wanted to honor that: the poetry in the mundane, the longing in the repetition. The way love survives boredom and dust and time.”

Eve is joined on American Dust by Canadian musician Bryce Cloghesy, aka Military Genius of Crack Cloud, who plays throughout and also helped produce the album. Musically bold and vivid, it’s an ambitious and detailed stride forward from what’s come before, the scope of the LP’s narrative reflected in the radiant sweep of the playing. On top of gentle piano and guitar, gorgeous strings drift through the album, lending the songs a woozy sense of romanticism; a collaboration with Gamaliel Traynor (Cello) and Caroline’s Oliver Hamilton (Violin).

For all the drama that’s coiled around these songs, it’s the recurring notion of love and hope fighting against everything that holds true throughout American Dust. Musically it’s lush and vibrant, intimate and cinematic side by side, and always bursting with warmth. But it’s what it holds in its weary bones that elevates it to something truly special, something more than just a collection of songs penned in the heart of the desert. The characters it speaks of, and from, feel shadowed but wholly real, like they’re bursting to share their stories that have remained hidden for years and years and they allow Eve Adams to grow as a songwriter right in front of our eyes.

“The same swirling dust that clung to the covered wagons of my ancestors as they crossed the Great American Desert is the same dust my great-great-grandmother swept off her porch during the Dust Bowl of 1936 in Oklahoma, is the same dust that blows in through the cracks in my windows here in the desert, carrying stories from a time long gone,” Eve says, reflecting on the personal narrative that runs through her new album.

“It’s not just dust—it’s American Dust, the kind that settles into the bones of a family and never leaves. I think about that dust as a symbol of the passage of time. I hope this album will be part of that same current, carrying forward for the next generations of my family to find. I’ve been lucky enough to have journals and poetry from my ancestors that documents their lives during times of pure hope and pure hardship. I’d like to think of this album as a contribution to that family history.”

MEMOTONE, aka Will Yates, has announced details of a new 12-track album, smallest things, set for release on World of Echo on 1 August 2025 on vinyl and digitally.

The album launches today with first track, ‘Time Is Away Theme’, a live favourite that is finally available on album. Watch the video HERE Talking about the release, Will has said, “Staring at a square inch of neglected concrete, I recognise the beauty of existence. Quietly hysterical. While humanitarian catastrophes bubble across the planet, the tides remain in constant and disinterested motion. Your money is worth less than the dusty moss that powders this pavement.

It's certainly not worth a life. We are the smallest things, along with everything else." Will Yates has made music as Memotone since 2007. He operates in the tradition of what Robert Fripp has called 'a small, independent, mobile, and intelligent unit.' If you book him, he will come. When he arrives, he will have everything he needs to make his complex, engaging music: a clarinet, a guitar, synths, samplers and pedals, quickly unpacked in the corner of a club, gallery or village hall. Starting small, he will build layer upon layer of melody, accompanying himself and cutting across himself, creating a music that avoids cliche and moves beyond easy description. His recordings have followed the same trajectory. Moving quickly, he has released fifteen or so albums across various labels (including Trilogy Tapes, Discrepant, Soda Gong). Taken together, these recordings are the sound of a skilled, inventive composer pushing at the edges of what he wants to listen to himself. It is possible to hear a variety ofinfluences in his music: folk and jazz forms, the textural inventiveness of British DI electronica and Chicago post-rock and the blurred sci-fi brass of Jon Hassell are all discernible. But mostly, Will's work seems to stem from a constant drift between long hours in his home studio, and time spent outside in the woods and hills around his home in Wales.

Listening to the album, lushness creeps in at the edges, tiny green shoots appear on what might at first appear to be bare soil. smallest things sheds the skin of Will's previous recordings, removing the electronics and the looping and layering of previous work, to create something almost entirely acoustic. But don't be fooled into imagining music that's folksy, pastoral or twee. Opening track 'I Could See the Smallest Things' is a statement of intent. Widely spaced guitar is underpinned by earthy cello and sleepwalking clarinet, making a gorgeous threadbare pattern, which recalls a Morton Feldman miniature or a Morandi still life.

Beyond the skill involved and the years of self-taught music making that have gone into putting this record together, it is Will's close, careful attention and his talent for existing, observing and creating in the moment that make his work special. Memotone will perform at World of Echo’s annual birthday celebration on 8 Nov Expected Music, when they take over Walthamstow Trades Hall for an inter-genre, day-long investigation into some of the more outré manifestations of the contemporary worldwide underground.

2024 Repress

Double Vinyl on 140g includes DLC, gatefold sleeve, printed inners. Following the reissue of ‘Hex’ in late 2017, Fire Records reissue Bark Psychosis’ second studio album ‘///Codename:Dustsucker’ (2004) “which finds the band in remarkable form” (Pitchfork). Arriving ten years after the band disbanded, the long-awaited and criminally overlooked follow up brings with it an evolution of their sound. Their experimentations are layered with blissed out electronics, shoegaze, post-rock and jazz are still at its fore as are Sutton’s crystalline vocals. Languid and brooding, the soundscapes are dark and sustained while their “trademark cocoon of limpid, rippling guitar figures and jazzy adornment is buffeted by sharp leftward turns” (Uncut). Recorded in Graham Sutton’s East London DustSuckerSound studio between 1999 and 2004, it features contributions from Talk Talk sticksman Lee Harris and ‘found drumming’ from ex-band member Mark Simnett. Bark Psychosis’

Hugely prolific American ambient artist and analogue drone don zake is back once again with some new re-imaginings of works from a wide range of artists from glitch-pop to post-rock. His singular sound is imprinted on all of the source material which becomes defined by dusty texture and frayed edges as he layers up immersive, meditative soundscapes such as highlights like a haunting take on Beno�t Pioulard's 'Xaipe,' the luminous 'Nicotiana Suite' with Pausal and a poignant reshaping of Inquiri's 'They Come Around.' Each remix reflects zake's deep respect for the originals while also adding something wholly his own.

Coming off the heels of 2022's A New Kind of Love, A Trip To The Moon sees GFO diving even deeper in the worlds of film music, exotica, and psychedelic surf rock. The aim is to create a layered and collaged listening experience with more elements than you could possibly pick out in a single listen. The guitars are fuzzy and flooded with spring reverb, and the horns are arranged in a studio big band fashion. It's full of big compositions with garage rock attitude. Influences range everywhere from Eddie Palmieri and Esquivel to The Lively Ones, Dusty Springfield, and War. The tracks are tied together by real recorded transmissions from the Apollo moon missions. The concept for the album is a story about a woman stranded on earth by her cosmonaut partner, left to ponder his whereabouts and whether or not he'll make it back from the cosmos alive.

Kobe Dupree unveils debut album, ‘Voice from the Inside’, arriving 21st May 2025. It lands on fellow Chicagoan DJ Hyperactive’s 4Trk (4 Track Recordings), and features twelve tracks already supported by the likes of Dustin Zahn, Truncate, Korea Town Acid, Amanda Mussi & more, coming out on wax alongside the digital release.

Dupree’s cosmic ambient opener, 'Jacurutu', sinks you into deep, sub-aquatic techno hypnosis before 'Heretics' layers up alien sounds and rolling kick drums. 'Syk' brings edgy, unrelieved loops and muffled spoken words over more mind-melting rhythm. The supple sounds and otherworldly atmospheres continue on 'Forms', which is marbled with static electricity, with 'Interlude of Voice' marking a moment to reset amongst gorgeous celestial synth smears.

The second half of the album takes in the more punchy but still perfectly loopy deep techno of 'Memory Replacement' and psychedelic swirls of 'Tongue of the Unseen'. There is a mystical charm to the harmonic tones of 'Gammu', a moodier vibe pervades the suspensory 'Fogwood', then 'Semuta Music' traps you in tightly coiled drums and hi-hats while a backlit glow soothes the soul. 'One of Many Faces' closes with a heart-aching piano piece that gets deeply emotional.

Kobe Dupree is a techno artist from Chicago with a deep interest in sound design and minimalism. His musical experiments have been released on Trax Research, Double Vision Records and DJ Hyperactive’s 4 Trk, on which he released the ‘Stimulate | Iterate’ EP in 2024. He has a hybrid approach to production, which involves using a modular rig for sound design before moving to a DAW for arrangement and final touches, heard on the sophisticated and cerebral ‘Voice from the Inside’ album.

A self-described chronically-sincere farm girl, Emily Hines grew up on a farm in rural Ohio before moving to Nashville where she played in other songwriters' projects before recording her own songs on a 4-track cassette recorder. Hines worked with producer Henry Park. Together they drew inspiration from acts like Duster, Laura Marling, and Karen Dalton to record simply and add layers one at a time. The resulting collection makes for something truly special; rich and decadent but also earthy and cracked. Emily prioritized creating a recording that feels human and present, and the outcome is palpable throughout These Days. At times we're right there in the room with Emily, up close and deeply personal, at other points it's as if you're straining to hear from the outside listening in; ear to the wall, notes carried and caught in the breeze. "We were drawn to the 4-track because it constrains the urge for perfectionism and encourages authenticity to the moment," Emily explains. "What you get is what you get, the 4-track doesn't afford you to get surgical about the details - and that can be really freeing." "Listening to Emily Hines' lo-fi folk ballads feels like discovering a cult hero's lost demos-these gentle, heart-mending recordings crackle with intimacy and seem to unfold as you're listening.' Paste Magazine 'Hines sings plaintive and romantic acoustic ballads, small moments of a life that build to something far greater within the woozy timber of her voice." - Gold Flake Paint

odh Teri is back with a brand-new chapter.
The Return of Neela Devi kicks off a vinyl-only series where the iconic characters from Deep In India finally take center stage. With the Sampadan era behind us, a bold new sound is rising.
Leading the way is Neela Devi herself, across three genre-spanning tracks that cover everything from vintage disco to spaced-out synths and slow-burning indie dance. There’s something here for every kind of listener – the groover, the dreamer, and the deep digger.
We open with “Maalgaadi 54” – a relentless disco heater drenched in ’70s glam, trippy layers, and hands-in-the-air energy.
Next comes “Cosmic Dirt” – dusty, mysterious, and dripping with attitude. Think desert synths, dark disco grooves, and a mood straight out of an Indian spaghetti western.
Closing the record is “Beauty Blues” – a dubby slow-burner that gently builds before locking into a bouncing, blissed-out groove. A cheeky take on a classic that’ll leave you smiling from start to finish.Those who dig a little deeper into the wax will uncover a secret locked groove Visually, the record is a stunner. The artwork is helmed by Soju Aduckathil, with creative direction by Manoj Kurian, the visionary behind Masala Movement.
Marking the sixth release on the Masala Movement label, this vinyl-only beauty is just the beginning – with plenty more surprises lined up for 2025.
The new era has arrived. Ready to dive in?

"Chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams..."

December 25th, 2023 - an Instagram post. Stimulator Jones shared half a dozen FIRE tracks from his beat tape archive. We were immediately drawn to the rough hewn boom bap.

"I'd release that", Rob commented.

Hours of material was shared and the result is this: Cool Green Trees (1999-2005). A collection of beats and loops Stimulator Jones created between the ages of 14-20 at home in his basement, bedroom and computer room in Roanoke, Virginia.

You will not believe the profound soulful genius contained within these naive schoolboy melodies.

December 25th, 1998 - 25 years ago to the day and his much-coveted Yamaha SU10 sampler was finally bestowed upon young Stimmy AKA Sam Lunsford: "I immediately hooked up a CD Walkman to the input jack and looped the beginning two bars of Grover Washington Jr.'s "Mercy Mercy Me". I don't know what exactly was so thrilling about hearing two measures of music repeating over and over but it was so infectious and hypnotizing and enthralling to me. I'll never forget that ecstatic rush of making my first loop - an uncontrollable, gleeful smile plastered all over my face." When you hear the pocket breakbeat symphonies featured here on Cool Green Trees, you'll feel the same sense of frisson.

In the wake of his Stones Throw breakthrough - Exotic Worlds & Master Treasures - Stimulator Jones was pegged by many as a 90s throwback artist. However, he literally IS a 90s artist. He's been recording music most of his life and he's now 40. He created the bulk of Cool Green Trees as a teenager. Everything before 2004 was recorded when Sam was still in school. He was in 8th grade when he made the 1999 tracks - he didn't even have his learner's permit. This album is a snapshot of a young man in a simpler time. Things were still mysterious back then and he was flying blind, relying on his ears and having to figure things out for himself: "I had no road map for becoming a beatmaker. I have been collecting music since I was a kid, I am a lifelong digger and seeker of cool and interesting sounds. I was there in the golden age of Hip Hop, and while I may have been a suburban white kid in Roanoke, Virginia, I was tuned in and I bought so many classic albums when they came out. I was attracted to Hip Hop because of the musical and poetic quality. I was hypnotized by the rhythms, partially because I was a drummer. I didn't brag about collecting my breakbeat records or making beats - it was something I did in isolation. It wasn't something I generally wanted to bring attention to and it didn't really score me any cool points. I certainly wasn't flexing on social media about it."

Hell, he can do that now!

Opener "Pharoah Jones" was inspired by Yesterday's New Quintet and Madlib's ability to capture that classic 70s sound whilst playing all the instruments. Sam created this one stoned afternoon by laying down a 2 bar loop and a shaker loop on his Yamaha SU700 sampler. He hung a microphone from the ceiling and played his Yamaha Stage Custom drum kit over the top before adding ender Rhodes and playing his dad's Selmer tenor sax through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. Yes! Up next, "Ghost Gospel" utilises a dope loop from a gospel record and adds some soul-funk drums overtop, whilst working that filter knob. Says Sam: "The loop reminded me of something Ghostface would rap over. The sample was in 3/4 waltz time but I flipped it for a 4/4 groove, a technique I picked up from RZA. "Ill Feeling" uses sped-up pieces from a dusty old funk record and putting them over a classic NOLA drum loop; gain chopping up a slow, bluesy 3/4 time signature and bending it to a 4/4 groove. Classy shit. "Capital Punishment" features drums tapped in live, inspired by MF Doom's Special Herbs series. "Do Not Adjust" consists loops found on a compilation of 70s French music at Happy's Flea Market, a classic Roanoke digging spot.

The sublime, evocative title track, "Cool Green Trees" was created when Sam was still living at home. He dumped samples off his SU10 into the family desktop and arranged them in a demo version of Pro Tools: "This track was sort of my ode to the DJ Shadow style of sample based production. Super spacey, slow, and moody. The heavily filtered drums were inspired by Alec Empire's 'Low on Ice' album. I later added some scratches and sounds from a Spider Man storybook record." "Chill Scratch" snags the final bit of a bossanova record and pairs it with a drum loop before adding experimental scratching run through an Electro Harmonix Memory Man echo pedal. "Poisonous Fumes" was made using a sampler, mixer and a turntable; a kind of mixtape beat collage with added scratches and sounds from various records. Using dialogue from superhero records was a nod to Madlib. "Welcome Aboard The Starship" is dark, downtempo trip-hop with a spooky bent. Sam paired a slow, hard drum loop with a guitar sample grabbed off a psychedelic rock record. To finish, he added various backwards sounds and weird atmospheric effects and a little scratching. Swoon.

Side B opens with "Keep On Runnin", made on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler. Having always loved the sound of the Lo-Fi filter on those machines, reminiscent of the Emu SP1200, Sam always imagined Del or another of the Hieroglyphics crew rapping over this beat. You can certainly hear why. "Sounds Impossible" sees Sam experimenting with layering multiple kick samples at different volumes to create patterns similar to those heard by Showbiz and Lord Finesse during their God-level 1995 period. "Painted Faces" was made by chopping up a REDACTED record which he had gotten from Happy's Flea Market and paired it with a REDACTED drum loop. By the time Sam recorded "The Knew Style", he had acquired a shitty old 1960s portable turntable off eBay. It didn't function properly when he bought it but his brother opened it up, cleaned it out and got it working: "I remember he told me that there was a bunch of sand inside of it when he opened it up, as if its previous owner had taken it to the beach. I would take that turntable on my Happy's Flea Market digs so I could preview records...that's how I found this loop."

"Chicken Wing Blues Sauce" loops up a classic blues joint and pairs it with some REDACTED drums. A bit of filtering and arranging et voilà! "Kool Breeze", from 1999, is one of Sam's oldest surviving beats, as is "Sexx Bullets". The Roots sampled the same record, leaving Sam frustrated yet vindicated. "Soul Child" was an early SU10 creation, looping a dusty old Soul Children 45 and pairing it with 70s rock drum loops to great effect. "Take Off Runnin" was another loop found digging with a portable turntable. Paired with some boom bap drums it makes for a hypnotic head-nod groove. "Centurian" was intended to be a little beat interlude a la Pete Rock. The sample is from a sun-dappled soft-psych record and it's paired with a Robin Trower drum loop that just happens to fit perfectly. Sometimes you slap things together kind of haphazardly and magic happens. "Bozack" was the first beat Sam made using Pro Tools, his first foray into using chopped sounds instead of loops, an exciting new world. "Church" is beat interlude using a Phil Upchurch loop with the "Long Red" drums - a favourite break of Dilla et al. Sam was really on a tear in late 2004, probably because he was unemployed and phoneless and able to just make beats all day. He made "Splash One" on a borrowed Yamaha SU700 and again was experimenting with tapping the drums in live with his fingers, instead of using a loop or sequenced pattern. Channeling 9th Wonder, Sam used a water splash sound effect from a Batman record as a percussive element, hence the title (also a 13th Floor Elevators reference). The main loop is a backwards portion of one of his favourite Roy Ayers songs.

"Hank" is another fun little beat interlude thing, created on a borrowed Roland SP202 sampler with the fantastic Lo-Fi effect that resembled the Emu SP1200 at a fraction of the price. "73 goatee", from 99, is another of his oldest surviving beats, created in his bedroom with his Yamaha SU10 and his brother's Vestax MR-300 4-track recorder: "This one will always feel special. I can remember having a feeling all the way back then on the night that I created it that this was a solid beat with a catchy loop. There was something in the Fender Rhodes melody that resonated with me emotionally, and I had never heard a producer sample that portion before. I felt like I had found my own unique sound, my own unique loop. It came from an Ahmad Jamal '73. I actually even recorded myself rapping and scratching over this beat way back then, I still have that version in all its imperfect sloppy glory."

Sam explains just how much these tracks mean to him: "They all have immense historical and sentimental value and I'm proud of them. These beats come from an innocent, simple time when I was just figuring out how to craft these sounds. They're something very personal to me. They are the initial part of a journey that I really was taking *alone*. There was no YouTube. I couldn't Google shit. I didn't even know any other beatmakers, producers or DJs in my town that could teach me anything. It was always just me, alone, in a room with some equipment - chasing the funky symphonies that filled my head and my dreams. What I was doing wasn't cool. Most of my peers thought I was a weirdo and couldn't care less. Creating these sounds was an anti-social endeavour. In a sense, I felt like it was me against the world, and all I had to instruct and assist me were the recordings produced by my heroes - RZA, DJ Premier, Erick Sermon, Beatminerz, Showbiz, Diamond D, Beatnuts, Prince Paul, The Bomb Squad, Pete Rock, Q-Tip, E-Swift, Mista Lawnge, DJ Shadow, Cut Chemist, Peanut Butter Wolf, El-P and so many more...I dedicate this collection to them, and to my older brother Joe who has always been a musical and technical guiding light for me.

This was a time before every kid was a self-described producer and beatmaker, before everyone had a DAW, before Kanye and "chipmunk soul", before Red Bull beat battles, before there was any social media beyond chat rooms and AOL Instant Messenger, before Soundcloud, before SP-404 mania, before lo-fi beats to study to, before Splice, before targeted ads for MIDI chord packs, etc. In 99 when I told people that I had a sampler and made beats I was mostly met with bewildered confusion and indifference. Kids and adults alike would wonder why I got this weird machine for Christmas instead of something worthwhile like a Playstation or a mountain bike or even a guitar for that matter because at least that could be used to make "real music". Back then, sampling was still not widely respected as an art form - it was seen as lazy, talentless and unoriginal at best and outright criminal theft at worst. I had gotten respect for playing drums and guitar and things of that nature but this was a step in the wrong direction in the eyes of many."

The cover photo is a picture of Sam standing on his back porch in the latter part of 1998, just before he got his first sampler. He was 13 years old, in 8th grade. His dad took the picture with his 35mm film camera: "I actually wanted to be pointing my dad's .22 pistol at the camera lens but he wouldn't let me. He gave me an old walking cane to use instead. The Tommy Hilfiger puffer jacket came from the lost and found at William Fleming High School where my mom worked as a secretary. I was thrilled when she brought it home because we never spent money on expensive name brand clothing like that - we were for the most part strictly a sale rack, bargain bin, thrift store, yard sale, flea market kind of family when it came to clothes. My watch is some cheap off-brand fake gold department store watch." Mastering for this vinyl edition was overseen by Be With regular Simon Francis and it was cut by the esteemed Cicely Balston at Abbey Road Studios to be pressed in the Netherlands by Record Industry.

"Wind, Again" is Sary Moussa’s fourth studio album and second album on Other People. Based between France and Lebanon, Moussa returns with a riveting electro-acoustic album informed by his ever-changing relationships to space, listening, and resonance as well as his growing interest in the study of harmonics in electronic and electro-acoustic music.

Years in the making, “Wind, Again” approaches distinct musical worlds and languages by bringing together improvisations by musicians performing on Western and West Asian instruments such as the Hammond organ, clarinet, saz, and buzuk with electronic arrangements and textures. Rather than force a rapprochement of these musical worlds through the instruments, and keenly aware of the weighty sonic histories they carry, Moussa proposes another way through which they can exist together in contemporary electronic composition.

Composed of six tracks, each of which demonstrate an array of recording and processing techniques, the album generates moments of tension produced by the synthesis of textural, tonal, and harmonic encounters that Moussa calls “shadows”, which outline an impressionistic musical language, existing at the edge of familiarity. Such moments permeate tracks like “Everywhere at once” and “Violence” that open with the Hammond organ and the saz respectively and slowly reveal an expansive field of sounds that showcases each of the musicians’ characteristic performances and Moussa’s densely layered textures. It is a latent yet unrelenting tension through which the composer invokes rather than represents a collective experiential state, especially familiar to those who know his environment. In “Wind, Again” these shadows are articulations of sounds steeped in traditions they are never quite tethered to. Such articulations are implied and alluded to, they play within a musical reference without the latter explicitly existing in the recording, always teetering, never completely here nor there.
Sonically and musically, the album is fueled by the cultural, social, and personal realities that Moussa was brought up and lives in.

Both personal and musical ties with the musicians who feature on the album is central to Moussa’s practice. In the title track “I will never write a song about you”, musician Julia Sabra opens with rolled piano chords, followed by Paed Conca on clarinet and Abed Kobeissy on buzuk, before Moussa’s electronic processing pieces together, lifts, and sustains the melodic direction of the track that emerged from the musicians’ separate improvisations. For Moussa: “The initial connection between the three performances was made on a track that no longer existed, the original recording was both an obstacle and necessary step for the track we hear on the record. It’s as if we were all telling different stories and I pulled on the thread that held them together”. The track, and more generally the record, is tinged with a melancholy of things lost, though it never fully succumbs to it.
“Everything inside a circle”, Moussa’s most personal track and for which he provides the only vocals on the record, harkens back to a childhood memory of listening to music with his mother in a car: “There was a sound I was looking for — a memory of a sound and how I first heard it. This track is a hybrid of that memory and what I wanted to make of it”. The track relies heavily on generativesystems and perhaps embodies most the ambiguous quality of the record’s music in its refusal to be pinned down by one musical tradition or another.
“Wind, Again” is both familiar and alien, cold and warm; it pays homage to the mechanics, materials, and tactility of the instruments and converges acoustic and synthetic spaces. What anchors the sound of the album are the elements of a whole that cannot find its own idiosyncrasy and that is precisely why Moussa’s album is a tour de force.

Gideon heads up Homo-Centric Records and returns to the label here alongside Rush Davis for more emotionally intense house music brilliance. 'The Two Houses' has dusty, cubby, US garage-inflected drums with a gorgeous male vocal up top serving up the soul and fantastic chord work layering in real musical class. The House Mix strips things back a touch and layers in a nice dynamic four-four groove and the dub shuts down with a little extra funk and flex.

A SIDE: "Smooth Co-Operator" 124 BPM
Deep within the Co-op laboratory, a timeless classic was lifted from the ether and reborn under the alchemists’ touch. "Smooth Co-Operator"
takes the silk and smoke of Sade’s iconic Smooth Operator and fuses it with the pulse of an uptempo soulful house rhythm. Sprinkled with the
magic dust of hip-hop and funk samples, the track moves effortlessly—grooving on a smooth, rolling bassline, locked into a four-to-the-floor
heartbeat. The result? A dance where elegance meets momentum, where the past is reimagined for the now. Let yourself be carried away—
this is RnB soul jazz, remixed for the future.

B SIDE: "Dream Alchemy" 120BPM
Summoned from the realm of dreams, "Dream Alchemy" is a hypnotic, Kubrickian voyage through sound and shadow. Co-op bends time,
doubling the original tempo into a driving force of tech-house vibes. J Diggns layers ethereal, cascading keys—melodies that flicker like lucid
visions—while Whiskey Drop layers in A$AP Rocky and grounds the experience with a deep, rolling bassline that pulses from the underground.
The groove is relentless, the atmosphere cinematic. Step inside—The dream and the Sandman await.

Margate-based Braga Circuit showcases a refined signature style and knack for killer sampling with this standout debut on Air Miles. 'Fall' kicks off with amped-up chord stabs and brilliantly well-swung, rolling kicks that soon get those hips moving. 'Closer' oozes summer cool thanks to the balmy chords that soften the percussive, garage-flecked house drums. There is also plenty of Kerri Chandler soul in these here beats that makes them all the more essential. 'Filter Feed' layers up dusty perc and thudding kicks with sultry vocal whispers. It's steamy and irresistible and last but not least, Leod is another talent from the coastal town of Margate and remixes this one with a more direct and dubby style.

* Light Years: A captivating late-night roller, reflecting the distances traversable through sound. Layered drums breaking like waves across a vast alien ocean, with 808 subs providing the ballast.

* Dust: Textured patterns move through the atmosphere like fine particles, drawing listeners into the haze. Mystery and nostalgia combining to produce jungle which looks back over its shoulder whilst racing forward, into the future.

* Antares: The red super-giant at the heart of the scorpion. Deep, resounding bass below, providing the foundation for the pulsating choppage, and shimmering harmonies above.

* Omega 7: Jungle drum & bass which shamelessly revels in the virtues of everyone’s favorite fatty acid. High-energy beats, nourishing rhythms and therapeutic low-end, emulsified to provide a supplement which promotes balance and wellness.

HISINGEN TAXI RIDER is TOMMA INTET’s fourth album, but the first to be written entirely in Swedish. It tells the story of moving to Gothenburg and the transformative experience of new impressions and people. A tribute to adventure, the thrill in your stomach, and all those late nights. Taxi rides to raves and after-parties. Taxi rides home to loneliness. Taxi rides to love and taxi rides to anxiety.

With HISINGEN TAXI RIDER, TOMMA INTET continues on their distinctive path, refining their signature sound. Layered harmonies run like a red thread through an ever-evolving musical landscape—blending grit with angel dust.

Written and produced by Magnus Petersson at Rum 101. Produced, mixed, and mastered by Johan Holm at Studio Påtår.

Repress!

Echospace Detroit is the label launched by Rod Modell (Deepchord) and Soultek's Steven Hitchell, two leading lights of the minimal dub techno scene. And as with anything Deepchord, the entire release has an air of mystery to it. Previously, as a near-mythical vinyl pressing with minimal packaging and restricted pressings, everything about Vantage Isle was geared toward the underground, or 'those who know.' However, there's nothing but love of craft driving these grooves, and now a lot more people will finally be able to hear this absolutely brilliant collection of spacial dub wonder on CD. Vantage Isle Sessions consists of a whopping 13 takes of the title track, reworked by Modell and Hitchell in various guises (cv313, Deepchord, Echospace, Spacecho), as well as a guest spot (and first ever remix) from Gerard Hanson (Convextion). Across their 13 versions, Modell and Hitchell manage to take the Deepchord template (analog synths, deep bass, gently throbbing beats, bursts of static and noise, and deep, deep chords) into a surprising variety of directions, akin to looking at the same giant glacier from a helicopter from every angle possible: some are beatless and undulating, some are pulsing and dynamic, some are looking up from under the ice and some are towering overhead. The aforementioned Convextion version is revelatory. It's built on cascading and echoing pieces of the original that are layered like shifting sands, for a distinctly dark and shimmering journey to the bottom of the frozen ocean and back. It's remarkable enough to get all these takes on one basic template to sound somewhat different, given that the source material is really just a skeletal array of sound sheets. Vantage Isle Sessions is for anyone looking for the logical successors to the Basic Channel throne, or just looking for something mellow for those steamy late summer nights. A stone-cold classic of the genre. Don't miss it." -Todd Hutlock, Stylus Magazine/Beatz by the Pound

"Steeped in mystery, Detroit musicians Rod Modell and Mike Schommer (aka Deepchord) are legendary for their hard to find twelve-inch dub techno releases. Their sound is heavily influenced by Berlin dub techno producers like Maurizio, Basic Channel, Chain Reaction, Rhythm & Sound, Blue Train and Pole. While the German sound often has a futuristic metallic edge, Deepchord are known more for the rust and grease, which is part and parcel of those metal parts. Static, analog sounds, deep bass thumps and, of course, deep chords blend in a timeless minimal manner. However, the real gems on this disc are the drifty ambient cuts devoid of beats. This is an excellent album that is on par with the classics from a decade ago!" -Exclaim


"In terms of ambient dub, if Basic Channel is the Father (the source, remote and inaccessible and very powerful) and Pole is the Son (dazzling but ultimately stranded halfway between man and the divine), than Rod Modell’s Deepchord and his Echospace label he run with Steve Hitchell is definitely the Holy Spirit." -Popmatters


"Deepchord’s dub-techno stealthily peels away melody, leaving a bare chassis of beats to ghost-ride down Woodward Avenue. Vantage Isle Sessions, which collects remixes of a 2002 Detroit Electronic Music Festival performance, finds the duo swerving through empty, neon-smeared streets, and recalls Berlin’s Chain Reaction label, minus the anemic minimalism." -XLR8R

"The album scales a magnificent peak in “Spacecho Dub II - Extended Mix” when smeary chords ricochet over a massively deep, bass-heavy pulse, and Hanson's light-speed missile of vaporous propulsion (“Convextion Remix”) is beautiful too.
Long may they run." -Textura

‘Vantage Isle’ is a tremendous achievement that will most likely be held up as a high water mark of the genre for years to come." -Resident Advisor

"My favorite mix is by Convextion (his first remix for another artist). Reedy, distant synth tones sound like a science fiction soundtrack overheard rooms away. An undercurrent of echoes, many difficult to describe, drift in a sonic syrup." -Gridface

"Modell’s music always seems to be in this suspended animation, adrift and afloat in a majestic emptiness." -Dusted Mag

CREDITS:
Written & Produced by Deepchord. Redesigned and Reshaped by Convextion (Gerard Hanson) cv313 (Stephen Hitchell) echospace / spacecho (Rod Modell + Stephen Hitchell)
Additional Mastering, Mixing and Engineering by Ron Murphy @ NSC Mastering, Detroit, USA. Side E/F Remastering and Lacquer cutting by Dietrich @ Complete, NYC, USA. (2018)

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.