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One can hardly imagine the genre-busting, culture-crossing musical magic of Outkast, Prince, Erykah Badu, Rick James, The Roots, or even the early Red Hot Chili Peppers without the influence of R&B pioneer Betty Davis. Her style of raw and revelatory punk-funk defies any notions that women can’t be visionaries in the worlds of rock and pop. In recent years, rappers from Ice Cube to Talib Kweli to Ludacris have rhymed over her intensely strong but sensual music.



There is one testimonial about Betty Davis that is universal: she was a woman ahead of her time. In our contemporary moment, this may not be as self-evident as it was thirty years ago – we live in an age that’s been profoundly changed by flamboyant flaunting of female sexuality: from Parlet to Madonna, Lil Kim to Kelis. Yet, back in 1973 when Betty Davis first showed up in her silver go-go boots, dazzling smile and towering Afro, who could you possibly have compared her to? Marva Whitney had the voice but not the independence. Labelle wouldn’t get sexy with their “Lady Marmalade” for another year while Millie Jackson wasn’t Feelin’ Bitchy until 1977. Even Tina Turner, the most obvious predecessor to Betty’s fierce style wasn’t completely out of Ike’s shadow until later in the decade.



Ms. Davis’s unique story, still sadly mostly unknown, is unlike any other in popular music. Betty wrote the song “Uptown” for the Chambers Brothers before marrying Miles Davis in the late ’60s, influencing him with psychedelic rock, and introducing him to Jimi Hendrix — personally inspiring the classic album Bitches Brew.



But her songwriting ability was way ahead of its time as well. Betty not only wrote every song she ever recorded and produced every album after her first, but the young woman penned the tunes that got The Commodores signed to Motown. The Detroit label soon came calling, pitching a Motown songwriting deal, which Betty turned down. Motown wanted to own everything. Heading to the UK, Marc Bolan of T. Rex urged the creative dynamo to start writing for herself. A common thread throughout Betty’s career would be her unbending Do-It-Yourself ethic, which made her quickly turn down anyone who didn’t fit with the vision. She would eventually say no to Eric Clapton as her album producer, seeing him as too banal.



Her 1974 sophomore album They Say I’m Different features a worthy-of-framing futuristic cover challenging David Bowie’s science fiction funk with real rocking soul-fire, kicked off with the savagely sexual “Shoo-B-Doop and Cop Him” (later sampled by Ice Cube). Her follow up is full of classic cuts like “Don’t Call Her No Tramp” and the hilarious, hard, deep funk of “He Was A Big Freak.”

As the winds of music blow, a wise heart navigates the spiral, finding wisdom in each of its twists and turns.

As the releases of DUBBLACK’s catalogue pile up, the novelty and exploration for new music keeps on thriving.


A brand-new record is approaching, as always available both on a 12” vinyl – limited to 300 copies – and in digital format, featuring the presence of two Masters from the Electronic Music scene: A2 Abd El Monim and Tocchitek.


The two-track EP baptised “Dark Side” includes the gems “Euriale” and “Steno”; two expansive compositions that, also due to their length, masterly observe the task of narrating two complementary stories, each with its distinct moments, yet marked by a strong rhythmic temper. Both tracks are planned to share similar sonic elements: a pulsating 160 bpm kick drum, ghostly pads serving as an inevitable backdrop, and indispensable rhythmic details enriching the whole structure and arrangement.


A2 Abd El Monim, born Alan Abd El Monim, is an Italian-Egyptian artist/composer. He expresses himself through the creation of music ranging from electronic to purely instrumental, and through the interaction between the arts. His poetics opens in a “dark” dimension that considers and interprets the facts through the notion of shadows and darkness but also through penombre. His “dark” vision stands as a filter through which he reads the world and its interactions, therefore using also the notion of light. His music has been performed in Festivals including Musica d’arte (Riccione – Italy), Luci d’Artista (Salerno – Italy), GAMO (Firenze – Italy), Spazio Musica (Cagliari – Italy), On Air – On site (Den Haag -Netherlands), Sound Spaces (Malmö – Sweden), etc.


He composed songs for the solo exhibition “La pelle degli oggetti” and for works Lui&Lei by the artist Giovanni Oberti. In 2020 he undertook a collaboration with the poet Milo De Angelis , putting to music the lyric “A volte , sull’orlo della notte, si rimane sospesi”. He wrote music for several theatre performances by director Emily Tartamelli and has written music for several directors films including Reto Gelshorn, Enea Francia, Paola Piscitelli and Fabio Corbellini. He collaborated with the London based fashion brand B DODI and was invited as an artist to participate in the collective exhibition “Instructions to Light-Keepers” (Milano – Italy). In March 2023, “Periodo Nero”, its interactive and generative installation music and video, was selected for the tribute to Picasso in the city of Florence, will be presented at the Certosa of Florence in September of the same year. In 2017 he won the International Competition of Composizione Silenzio Musica, in 2020 the diploma from President and Artistic Director of Winterreise International Composition Competition Moscow, in 2021 the Call For Scores banned by the Cultural Association Esecutori di Metallo su Carta. A2 Abd El Monim is signed to international label F.M.T Records and Dubblack Records, with which he regularly publishes his electronic music.


Tocchitek is an underground Tekno producer and performer born in Milan, Italy. He started playing live in 2007 as part of the “Approdo Caronte” sound system based in Milan. His first significant appearance as a live performer was at a “Mayday Parade” in 2008 in Milan. In 2009, he joined the “R909 Records” chapters crew based in Milan, bringing his live set to many local club dance floors. Meanwhile, he collaborated and played with many crews around Europe, spreading his music in the free Underground Tekno movement. In 2021, in Milan, he launched “F.M.T Records”.


Simplicity is often the hardest thing to achieve when producing this type of music, primarily designed for uncompromising dance-floors, but the duo successfully channels their message with purity and truthfulness.


The visual aspects of layout and design are once again entrusted to Vittorio Valigi, who puts a greyscale spiral at the center of the cover. A spiral within which one an eye can be glimpsed – the eye of the musical soul of DUBBLACK harmoniously fused with that of A2 Abd El Monim and Tocchitek, who become worthy ambassadors of the Dubblack’s sonic mission.

"Remembering is not the opposite of forgetting," Casey MQ sings at the start of Later that day, the day before, or the day before that, his new LP and Ghostly International debut. It's a phrase fittingly misremembered from something the LA-based, Canadian-born composer came upon as he spiraled into unconscious and subconscious-led writing sessions at the piano. Casey's known for his 2020 breakthrough release babycasey, which gave voice to songs seen through the lens of childhood, various film score work and collaborations with artists such as Oklou (who returns here), Eartheater, and Vagabon. His gifts as a producer and songwriter are rooted in textural world-building and the excavation of personal truth. With Later that day... he questions what is true entirely, understanding our mind's tendency to bend and project onto pictures of the past. Across vivid, baroque pop balladry, Casey MQ reorients his recording project and point of view under the notion that memories are malleable. All the joy, pain, love, and loss housed within remembrance is open to interpretation and deconstruction, which he does deftly, with curiosity and complete artistic freedom. "It's a memory album," Casey puts it simply, winding up for the deeper unpacking, "and it might be a breakup album, too_there are more questions than answers." Engaging his dreams and sitting with sheet music at his newly acquired piano, he looked to new and old inspirations including the works of Claude Debussy, Joni Mitchell, and Joe Hisaishi's beloved Studio Ghibli film scores. "Since I was young, I always wanted to write a piano album." babycasey's studied electronic sound isn't wholly abandoned on Later that day... instead, it comes through like an atmosphere, giving Casey's more spacious, minimal arrangements a distinct luster and sheen. The textures and tones shift from song to song as if mirroring the way our minds constantly recontextualize, remember, and forget. Cathartic opener "Grey Gardens" _ its title derived from a dream abstractly related to the Toronto restaurant, but not the 1975 film, which he cites as another coincidental false memory _ presents the record's plaintive, haunted feeling. "Even if not reading into lyrics, sonically I wanted it to feel like you're being pulled into a universe. Not fantasy or otherworldly per se, something more tangible, of the body and mind," Casey says. "Hearing it back, I realized this track was the key to unlocking it." His tender falsetto hovers above ambient washes and echoed keys, each word falling carefully in the crevices. "Asleep At The Wheel" unfolds on arpeggiated synth before a burst of symphonic color; the synth returns inverted to harmonize with the outro, "I love a car crash, I love a story, I love a memory, I swear it's real..." Casey leans into digital imagination on the warm, introspective "Me I Think I Found It." Subdued, stuttered percussion underscores the singer as he cycles through pixelated imagery _ screenshots, smiles, streetlights _ searching for higher meaning through love. Built on ascendent chord distortions, "Dying Til I'm Born" gives the record one of its boldest pulses of emotion. The back half stretches out; "Is This Only Water" is sparse and foggy, "Baby Voice" is intimate and desperate for something to remain. "Words For Love" grooves on guitar, and "Tennisman9" aches in heartbreak. French musician Marylou Mayniel, aka Oklou, appears as the collection's only guest for the closing duet, "The Make Believe," a bright and buoyant send-off that gives Later that day... both a sense of resolve and cyclical-motion. "We are young, under the sun," they sing together, a parting image brimming with lightness.

"Remembering is not the opposite of forgetting," Casey MQ sings at the start of Later that day, the day before, or the day before that, his new LP and Ghostly International debut. It's a phrase fittingly misremembered from something the LA-based, Canadian-born composer came upon as he spiraled into unconscious and subconscious-led writing sessions at the piano. Casey's known for his 2020 breakthrough release babycasey, which gave voice to songs seen through the lens of childhood, various film score work and collaborations with artists such as Oklou (who returns here), Eartheater, and Vagabon. His gifts as a producer and songwriter are rooted in textural world-building and the excavation of personal truth. With Later that day... he questions what is true entirely, understanding our mind's tendency to bend and project onto pictures of the past. Across vivid, baroque pop balladry, Casey MQ reorients his recording project and point of view under the notion that memories are malleable. All the joy, pain, love, and loss housed within remembrance is open to interpretation and deconstruction, which he does deftly, with curiosity and complete artistic freedom. "It's a memory album," Casey puts it simply, winding up for the deeper unpacking, "and it might be a breakup album, too_there are more questions than answers." Engaging his dreams and sitting with sheet music at his newly acquired piano, he looked to new and old inspirations including the works of Claude Debussy, Joni Mitchell, and Joe Hisaishi's beloved Studio Ghibli film scores. "Since I was young, I always wanted to write a piano album." babycasey's studied electronic sound isn't wholly abandoned on Later that day... instead, it comes through like an atmosphere, giving Casey's more spacious, minimal arrangements a distinct luster and sheen. The textures and tones shift from song to song as if mirroring the way our minds constantly recontextualize, remember, and forget. Cathartic opener "Grey Gardens" _ its title derived from a dream abstractly related to the Toronto restaurant, but not the 1975 film, which he cites as another coincidental false memory _ presents the record's plaintive, haunted feeling. "Even if not reading into lyrics, sonically I wanted it to feel like you're being pulled into a universe. Not fantasy or otherworldly per se, something more tangible, of the body and mind," Casey says. "Hearing it back, I realized this track was the key to unlocking it." His tender falsetto hovers above ambient washes and echoed keys, each word falling carefully in the crevices. "Asleep At The Wheel" unfolds on arpeggiated synth before a burst of symphonic color; the synth returns inverted to harmonize with the outro, "I love a car crash, I love a story, I love a memory, I swear it's real..." Casey leans into digital imagination on the warm, introspective "Me I Think I Found It." Subdued, stuttered percussion underscores the singer as he cycles through pixelated imagery _ screenshots, smiles, streetlights _ searching for higher meaning through love. Built on ascendent chord distortions, "Dying Til I'm Born" gives the record one of its boldest pulses of emotion. The back half stretches out; "Is This Only Water" is sparse and foggy, "Baby Voice" is intimate and desperate for something to remain. "Words For Love" grooves on guitar, and "Tennisman9" aches in heartbreak. French musician Marylou Mayniel, aka Oklou, appears as the collection's only guest for the closing duet, "The Make Believe," a bright and buoyant send-off that gives Later that day... both a sense of resolve and cyclical-motion. "We are young, under the sun," they sing together, a parting image brimming with lightness.

Luther Vandross was more than just a great singer. An elegant and warmhearted New Yorker who became one of popular music's most beloved performers, from his solo breakthrough in the early '80s to his untimely death in 2005, Vandross was a vocalist whose understanding of singing as an art form was so profound, he changed notions of what it could be. On March 23, 1977, Vandross's album 'This Close to You', with his group Luther, enchanted listeners with soulful tunes and deep lyrics, further cementing his status in the music industry. This is a x12 trk, standard Black LP vinyl & CD. Marketing activity.

"Det Foranderlige Instrument" music for 24 Yamaha DX-7 synthesizers by Danish composer, musician and teacher Anders P Jensen. Departing from its iconic 80s pop sound, Anders P Jensen breathes new life into the DX-7, leveraging complex instrument preparations inspired by musical luminaries like Harry Partch and Björk, resulting in mesmerizing electronic symphony across 12 movements, where the instrument evolves autonomously, challenging conventional notions of composition. Besides Anders P Jensen on synthesizers, the album also features Zhang Yu on guzheng. "Study No. 11" is composed by Conlon Nancarrow, here arranged for the DX-7s. "Det Foranderlige Instrument" which translates as "The Ever Changing Instrument" is Anders P Jensen second release on Escho.

“Not a lot of people talk about the true origins of bluegrass music,” says Swamp Dogg, “but it came from Black people. The banjo, the washtub, all that stuff started with African Americans. We were playing it before it even had a name.” Blackgrass, Swamp Dogg’s remarkable new album, is no history lesson, though. Produced by Ryan Olson (Bon Iver, Poliça) andrecorded with an all-star band including Noam Pikelny, Sierra Hull, Jerry Douglas, Chris Scruggs, Billy Contreras, and Kenny Vaughan, the collection is a riotous blend of past and present, mixing the sacred and the profane in typical Swamp Dogg fashion as it blurs the lines between folk, roots, country, blues, and soul. The tracklist is an eclectic one—brand new originals and vintage Swamp Dogg classics sit side by side with reimaginings of ’70s R&B hits and timeless ’50s pop tunes—but the performances are thoroughly cohesive, filtering everything through a progressive Appalachian lens that nods to tradition without ever being bound by it. Special guests like Margo Price, Jenny Lewis, Justin Vernon, and The Cactus Blossoms all add to the excitement here, but it’s ultimately the 81-year-old Swamp Dogg’s delivery—sly and playful and full of genuine joy and ache—that steals the show. The result is a record that’s as reverent as it is raunchy, a collection that challenges conventional notions of genre and race while at the same time celebrating the music that helped make Swamp Dogg the beloved iconoclast he’s known as today.

Upchuck are experiencing a moment. The Atlanta punk collective just came off multiple tour runs with their good friend Faye Webster. Their Ty Segall-produced second album Bite The Hand That Feeds, with all its buzzsaw guitars and high-speed rippers and headbanging sludge, arrived in October. Later this year, they’ll make appearances at multiple festivals including Coachella. In the midst of relentlessly barreling ahead, the band and their label Famous Class are taking a beat to revisit how they got here. After working with Segall on Bite the Hand That Feeds, the band floated the notion that they wished they could hear what their collaborator could do with the songs on their 2022 debut album Sense Yourself. Holed up in his studio over Christmas with COVID and nothing else to do, Ty Segall began toying with Sense Yourself, sifting through folders of unlabeled stems to find the best guitar parts, emboldening the drum sound, and bringing greater clarity to KT’s vocals, all while bolstering the urgency of the band’s overall attack. With Segall’s new mix, Upchuck’s intense and righteous debut now impossibly overflows with even more fuzz and fury. In Segall, they found a kindred spirit whose studio approach made sense for just how hard they wanted this music to hit. “When we first went to record with Ty for Bite the Hand That Feeds, Mikey and I walked into the guitar room and Ty said, ‘Don’t touch the EQs.’ We looked at the amp and everything was on 10 except the master volume,” Hoff said. Previously, the band had been encouraged to capture the unvarnished sound of the studio. They’d toured with Segall’s band Fuzz, so everybody had the same goal while recording together: Capture the electricity of their intense live set. The band’s shows have a reputation for coming unglued, and there’s no greater document of that than Sense Yourself’s iconic album artwork. With no text, it’s a candid photo of a moment from a show shot on film without editing: blood streaked across KT’s face as they shout into the mic. In the middle of their EP release show, KT was in the pit as a fan started crowd surfing inside a shopping cart. A loose piece of metal near a wheel caught the singer right near the eyebrow and blood was everywhere, an instant piece of iconography snapped by probably every camera phone in the room. When Hoff revisits the message of this first album and Upchuck’s first songs, he thinks back to the year before the band even started when he and KT were hanging out. “We were sitting around talking for eight hours like ‘fuck, that's fucked up, that's fucked up.’” Upchuck became a vehicle for these five people to process how fucked up everything it is—to digest these formative hours-long conversations and put them to bludgeoning, intense rock music. The music is also fun as hell, and that’s part of the point. “There's a lot we need to do as people and a lot of things we need to fix in society but also like come on man like have your fun, wild out, have your drink,” KT says. “But be on your shit at the same time. Check your folk.”

In one sense, it’s easy for artists—songwriters, specifically—to express their feelings in their work. After all, that’s what the lyrics are for! But it’s much harder to convey emotional energy in how you play, slash at the guitar, and the structure of the music itself. That’s precisely why Girl and Girl’s Sub Pop debut, Call A Doctor, feels like such a vital, electrifying shock to the senses. Not since the early work of Car Seat Headrest or Conor Oberst’s widescreen emotional brutality as Bright Eyes has indie rock managed to come across as this intimate and grandiose, as the Australian quartet led by Kai James lay a lifetime’s worth of woes—mental health, the human race’s planned obsolescence if you’ve been living on this cursed rock you know what we’re getting at—across a canvas of indie rock that feels both timeless and in-the-moment.

An audacious and aggressively tuneful blast of a record, Call A Doctor is an unforgettable first bow from Girl and Girl, whose origins lie in James and guitarist Jayden Williams jamming in his mother’s garage in the afternoon after school. One afternoon, James’ Aunty Liss headed down to their practice space after walking her dog and asked if she could sit in on drums. “It sounded really great,” James recalls. “We begged her to stay, and she said, ‘I’ll stay until you find another drummer.’ We wore her down, and she eventually became a permanent member.”

After bassist Fraser Bell joined to round things out, Girl and Girl hit the road and began to make a name for themselves beyond the Australian bush, eventually signing to Sub Pop off the strength of word of mouth. Call A Doctor came together quickly soon after, largely recorded in marathon sessions in a two-story industrial complex over the course of two weeks. “That added to the intensity of the album,” James says about the frenzied creative process overseen by producer Burke Reid. “I can hear the stress in the record, which is good because that’s what it’s about—being tense, tied up, and in your own head.”

Call A Doctor’s eleven songs—spanning sweeping guitar epics and wry acoustic shuffles to spiky punk maneuvers and the type of raw, adoringly unvarnished indie-pop associated with legendary PacNW label K Records—are literally plucked from James’ personal history, as he reworked older recordings with newer lyrics reflecting his past struggles as well as new anxieties that emerged prior to the album’s recording. “I’ve struggled with mental health for a lot of my life,” he explains, “and I went through a particularly difficult patch when we were making the album; the band had started to get some attention, and I felt an enormous amount of pressure to live up to it.”

Far from the sound of collapsing under pressure, Call A Doctor finds James and Co. stepping up with their entire collective chest. This is a record that’s so out-and-out alive that you nearly feel like you’re in the same room with Girl and Girl as you listen to it; lead single “Hello” practically bursts through the speakers, amplified by Aunty Liss’ unbelievable stickhandling duties. “‘Hello’ is all about romanticizing your own misery. Letting those deep, dark, dirty thoughts take over. Understanding that even if you could pull yourself out, you wouldn’t because the constant stress and worry is far too familiar and comfortable.”

“Mother” pogos on a spiky groove that’s reminiscent of the geographically close New Zealanders who make up the legendary Flying Nun label, while “Oh Boy” draws from the Shins’ own jangly sound, injected with James’ wonderfully nervy vocals. Then there’s Call A Doctor’s sorta-centerpiece “Maple Jean and the Anthropocene,” a five-minute epic offering a new perspective on climate change and the notion of what it means, in a personal sense, to suffer: “I live in the bushland, and I was driving home one night and hit and killed a wallaby with my car,” James recalls while discussing the song’s lyrical inspiration. “My first thought was, ‘What is the universe trying to tell me?’ No remorse, no guilt, just total self-centeredness. Which was like, Woah, you fucking psychopath! This wallaby wasn’t put on this earth to send you a message. That’s what the song is about, our egocentric species - thinking you’re the main character and that everything that happens is somehow about you.”

“This record is about an individual who’s too far in their head, trying to get out,” James continues while discussing Call A Doctor’s overall outlook—specifically the snapshot it offers of its creator. But even though this record deals with uneasy topics we all know well from within ourselves, it’s important to emphasize how teeming with life Girl and Girl’s music is. There’s a brazen, bold sense of humor to this stuff, an undeniable brightness to the darkness that makes it impossible not to be drawn in as a listener. Feeling down never sounded so goddamn good.

Containing the hits that were only deemed misses by the critics that condemned Oi! as some kind of subcultural fad that favoured football and violence way above the bloody good tunes that should by rights occupy the higher rank, 4 Skins, The Unreleased Radio & Studio Sessions encapsulates that energy at its finest. From formidable swarms of police brutality and political injustice, the underlying (and unyielding) socio-political messages experienced from the streets that resonated with every estranged clockwork skinhead of the day are bound to be ticked on every track. After the atmospheric crash of One Law for Them, dropped in amongst the Radio and blistering Bumper Sessions with Evil sitting squarely in its unpolished centre is the ska-inflected gallop of Seems To Me, an unreleased tune reinforcing the notion that there was more to Oi! than meets the laces.

2x7"
Not so long ago Marlena Shaw was a forgotten figure. The talented vocalist had made several LPs for respected labels such as Cadet and Blue Note, and she'd performed regularly throughout the '60s and '70s. But she hardly had what you might call diva status. Falling into the unfortunate category that slips uneasily between soul and jazz, she was accepted - but not especially admired - by aficionados of either genre. Then came the '90s, and an open-minded enthusiasm for soul and jazz - and more importantly - everything in between - soon changed that. Marlena Shaw became an icon, and the diva status soon blossomed amongst her new-found soul-jazz fans.

Respect is a word that means much to any singer. The artist who stands up in the bright lights before an audience that has handed over their hard-earned cash has only their physical presence and naked voice to rely on. There is no hiding when you're on stage, you're the focus of attention and everybody is gawping at you. The singer yearns to communicate and entertain, and in return not only asks for appreciation and acceptance, but respect. To this end Marlena Shaw has endured decades of singing in the shadows, and she has only recently finally found her niche.

On Disc One we have 'California Soul', probably the most enduring and well-known of her many songs, but just a few seconds listening will tell you that it is much more than that. It's already a classic amongst those who have already seen the light and have danced and swayed to its timeless swing. Upon hearing it all lovers of soul, jazz – or any other kind of good music - will feel an aural glow as warm as the Californian sun. The song 'Liberation Conversation' on the flip was only ever available on her highly revered 1969 LP 'The Spice of Life'. This is where the 'Blues ain't nothing but a good woman gone bad' launches into an irresistible, relentless uptempo funk groove.

Disc Two showcases 'Wade in the Water', an ancient song rumoured to have been developed and popularised by slaves in the American south. The message is to pass on the notion that by fleeing in a bid for freedom through streams and rivers, the scent that bloodhounds use to follow their victims will be obscured. Marlena's version has long been a favourite dancefloor filler since its 45-only release back in 1966.

'Woman of the Ghetto' is one of her best-known songs and ends the set on the other side. The opening number from 'The Spice of Life', it's since been recognised for the classic it is, and as such has been afforded anthemic status. We release the original 45 version here, as used to promote the LP back in the day.

This special 2x7" product from Jazzman is dedicated to the memory of Marlena Shaw, b. 22 September 1939, d. 19 January 2024.

ACxDC—full name Antichrist Demoncore—are anything but subtle. So to make sure that their message is heard loud and clear, they take things a step further, smashing these ambiguous, sophisticated, and abstract notions into a pulp and shoving them down throats. What’s left are sharp, caustic, and unabashedly vicious bits of truth and poisonous tongue-in-cheek propelled by bursts of powerviolence, metallized hardcore, and grindcore. Over the seventeen short songs, the music closely follows these themes.

Daga Voladora's last album came out in 2016. To alleviate such a long wait, only a couple of celebrated singles. Now, finally, Cristina Plaza (identity gracefully hidden under the Daga Voladora name that was before Gran Aparato Eléctrico and also a quarter of Los Eterno and half of Clovis) releases an album and does it, for the first time, in vinyl format. "Los manantiales" is the title of the happy and long-awaited return of an artist that never completely left.

"Los manantiales" ("The Springs") refers to all those sources from which I drink to make my songs: Stereolab, Broadcast, Galaxie 500, Cate Le Bon... And also some of the flamenco language. Flamenco in my own way, of course," explains Plaza. "Los manantiales" will also bring echoes of acts that the artist has not practiced as much such as Esclarecidos, Vainica Doble, Ana D or Kikí d'Akí. Deep voices for songs with substance.

But there is also that other idea of the spring that gushes forth when it can no longer be contained. "It has taken me so many years to make this album because I had a prejudice related to the previous one "Primer segundo" in which there was a coherence. Not finding that concept or thinking that this or that wasn't Daga Voladora, I couldn't get into it. Until I decided that maybe I didn't have to impose such a rigid direction on myself..."

Sketched in a town bordering Ávila where Plaza decided to get lost in the summer of 2022 and then finished off in a basement in Madrid for several months, the nine songs of "Los manantiales" make up a short album, premeditatedly short ("I don't like the songs to be longer than 2:50") but, above all, varied. Because, as can be sensed in the song Quise ser ( "I wanted to be a fictional hero, an expressionist painter, a promising actress"), here are all the imagined Cristinas and their different lives ("The song Lejos de la multitud is that longing of mine to be a vagabond"), an unmistakable sign that, as the artist confesses, "I am my own spring". And all this joyful dispersion comes from the premise with which Plaza approached the album: "I said to myself: 'Let's play'. I set out to have a good time. Suddenly, I wanted to do a dub track and I came up with Fosforito or a rock song like Lou Reed in the 80s and there was 'Me vi penando'. I wanted a rock record, an experimental record, something like Broadcast, and a musical! I wanted to do a thousand things!"

The result is a playful album, very enjoyable; but above all elegant and extremely precise. In both form and substance. Thus, the melodies are so rounded at first listen; the music would work perfectly on its own, stripped of lyrics that respond to the maxim, so often ignored, that there is really only one way to say things. "I have tried to refine the texts a lot. There are some phrases taken from Steinbeck, other things that emerge in a somewhat magical way. There's also Gary Snyder, Kerouac and his Dharma Bums, echoes of California..."

It's an album made, as usual with her, in the most absolute solitude (except for the collaboration of Andrés Arregui on sax and the final mix by Fino Oyonarte). Bareback. "I recorded everything with my computer, with my instruments, my analog keyboards, my rhythm boxes, little noises I make around... I don't make demos. I just do it. In a rough way. What I do do is repeat. The good thing about this method is that many things happen spontaneously and that's where they stay".

An album that, for all of the above, responds to the best notion of caprice. A whimsical whim, signed and finished off by the splendid cover designed by Beatriz Lobo, which feartures a painting ('La chica del King Creole') by the legendary artist Javier de Juan.

In "Los manantiales" there are many possible worlds, as many dreamed ones. Of course, those of Daga Voladora (not in vain, the album opens with a song titled Cristinópolis), but also those of any curious and sensitive listener who, by the way, will find more than one musical wink along the way. You just have to be attentive.

Earth, Our Planet?”: A call for environmental awareness. This time, Pedro Vian - the founder of Modern Obscure Music - presents his fourth solo album (following his 2020 release, "Ibillorca"). Due for release in spring 2024, "Earth, Our Planet?" promises to immerse us in a moving odyssey, crossing the boundaries of musical genres to provoke an urgent meditation on the protection of our planet. On this occasion Vian has composed the album influenced by the myth of the eternal return, the compositions are long and repetitive, generating states of pure trance.
Pedro Vian, singular for his fusion of genres and styles, ventures into even more complex territories in "Earth, Our Planet?". From the first listen, it is evident that this work treads the line of convention and breaks the boundaries of electronic and experimental music with artistic dexterity. The album weaves together texture, hypnotic rhythms and melody. Each track reveals his distinctive ability to create immersive landscapes, guiding the listener into deep emotional introspection. This is not just music; it is a transformative experience.
The beauty of this album lies not only in the musical vision. The album features high-calibre collaborations that add layers of creativity and elegance. Trumpeter Pierre Bastien, whose early productions left an indelible mark on Aphex Twin's Reflex label, infuses "A Day in Rotterdam" with a unique emotional resonance. Violinist, Asia, renowned for her avant-garde approach and ability to conjure unique landscapes, elevates the album's opening tracks "Urobóros" and "Les Tambours Subterraniens". Their skill and sensitivity intertwine perfectly with Vian's artistic vision. In addition, Italian producer Daniele Mana, with whom Pedro Vian collaborated closely on his previous album "Cascades", known for his experimental approach and talent for creating extraterrestrial atmospheres also contributes to "Les Tambours Subterraniens". His artistic perspective adds more complexity and texture to the piece, pushing the boundaries of contemporary electronic music. There is also a collaboration with Raül Refree, an artist with whom Vian worked with last year, presenting “Font De la Vera Pau”, an album that The Guardian defined as "a wonderful piece of electroacoustic music, a captivating mix of strings and analogue synth drones which sometimes flirts with Alice Coltrane-ish spiritual jazz". With "Earth, Our Planet?", Pedro Vian not only offers up some of his best work to date, but it is also a call to reflect on our relationship with the natural world. As a part of a planet where environmental awareness is more crucial than ever, he urges us to protect and preserve our world as an extension of ourselves. This extensive work is a statement, Vian addresses the notion that too often we prioritise immediate needs over the well-being of the planet. It highlights the fact that we often consider the Earth as a possession when, in reality, we are but a part of it.

DJ Support: Danny Krivit, Craig Charles (BBC Radio 6 Music), Hallex M, Jazzanova, Delite Radio, Mi Soul, Pointblank, Totally Wired Radio, XFM, Radio Solar, Tony Minvielle, Simon Phillips, Chris Phillips (Jazz FM), KCRW DJs, Ian Friday, Aroop Roy, Samantha Badd (Café Del Mar), Mr. V, Simon Harrison (Basic Soul), Greame Park, Mike Fossati, Timo Mass, Deli G, Servino (Horse Meat Disco), Hyenah.

‘Badly Written Songs’ is, of course, a tongue-in-cheek title. It comprises a carefully structured and well-produced array of songwriting, topped and tailed with live instrumentation, commanding vocal performances and high-end production: the result of years of sound engineering and music production experience. Since the last album, Ross Hillard has continually honed his skills whilst earnestly crafting this sophomore long player. As well as developing a range of audio plugins, Ross also manages recording sessions at his own Paddocks Recording Studios: huge live spaces boast cutting-edge technology, integrated with distinguished analogue kit. The studio is complemented by a collection of prized microphones, together with a fully-restored vintage Raindirk mixing desk.

The opening track and first single from this album is the positively-anthemic gem entitled ‘Good Morning Sunshine’. It tells a forward-looking story promoting the merits of getting back into the driving seat of life. It’s propelled further by superb jazz-inspired drums and live horns that build up to an exhilarating crescendo. Featuring the vocal talents of Sophia Marshall, the story she paints is supported by a wonderful, darkly humorous cartoon video. An animated cadaver hilariously acts out her notions of positive living.
Other tracks also destined for a single release include: ‘Loving You’. It’s a song written around love lost. A bouncing house composition lays the foundations for Sophia Marshall's beautiful vocal that narrates the many facets to be found in loving another person. ‘Better’ again echoes jazz-inspired drums behind Sophia's vocals, drawing attention to how so many people are lost on their devices, missing out on the awesome world around them. A catchy chorus chants the notion behind this song, i.e., that you ‘could be better!’ This single is also supported by another fantastic video featuring the same comical, deceased character introduced through the ‘Good Morning Sunshine’ video.

Guests are Jessica Higgins and Matthew Walkerdine of Glasgow, UK, both formerly of the bands Vital Idles and Mordwaffe. They have been closely tied with DIY music, art and publishing for over a decade. Using (amateur) electronics, singing, speaking and field recording they make songs which blend the rhythms of popular music and contemporary approaches to collage, sampling, improvisation and repetition. As inspired by film and art as they are the legacies of twee underground and avant garde experimentalism, their loose, domestically twinged compositions explore feelings, atmospheres and moments which are hard to articulate and the quite literal notion of being a “guest”.

“I wish I was special” is their debut record, and with it a chance taken to explore terrain not previously covered by their other groups. The ideology of DIY practice appears integral to these eleven compositions, side-stepping virtuosity in favour of instinct and impression, unafraid to press unknown buttons and walk head first into mistake, finding inspiration where convention might not otherwise allow one to tread. The results are confoundingly fresh, sharp-of-mind, and unusually intimate. There’s an obvious intelligence at play here, and no little humour of course, but crucially there’s also a sense of the personal, a first-thought/best-thought (auto)didacticism that celebrates shared understanding and implicit trust. What, ultimately, we might view as the fearlessness in radically being yourself around another. It’s an approach that draws some comparison with the private musings of Flaming Tunes, Idea Fire Company’s domestic electronics, or perhaps even Annea Lockwood’s framing of emotional connection within avant garde structures. More so, Guests represent a compelling continuation of DIY post-punk experimentation that values intuition over prowess, and with it guides the listener into unexpected spaces that somehow comfort as much as they challenge.




d Arrangements, as in Making Them [VIDEO]

First vinyl issue for this 2023 release with bonus track not available on CD.
Nine majestic electro-acoustic threshold devotionals.
**ELECTRONIC SOUND - review (issue 98) “While there are shades and texture in the journey from glowing opener “Cyan” to the glowering conclusion of “Magenta”, they’re so subtle that they make ‘Colours of Air’ the musical equivalent of Rothko’s paintings - monotone at first glance, but with intriguing depths if you’re prepared to search for them.”

MOJO - ★★★★ review in the Underground column (March issue) “Loscil and English’s manipulations drift closer to the ambient techno of Gas.”

UNCUT - 8/10 review (March issue) “Subtle complex, and not always pacifying…’Magenta’s extraplanetary grace is tempered by unresolved tension for distinctly uneasy listening.”
The union of composers Lawrence English and loscil aka Scott Morgan is seamless, sublime, and long overdue.
Born of a conversation centered on the notion of “rich sources” as a forge for electronic music, Colours Of Air is a collection of recordings of a century old pipe organ housed at the historic Old Museum in Brisbane, Australia, which were then processed, transformed, and elevated into eight majestic electro-acoustic threshold devotionals. The timbre of the instrument and spatial fluctuations of room tone infuse the music with a subdued, sacred feel, like vaulted light in a nave of stained glass. They describe the album as “an iterative project, a reduction and eventual expansion,” sifting the swells and drones of the organ for every shivering shade of radiance.
The tracks are named for the hue each piece suggests – from the gauzy levitational miasma of “Yellow” to the pulsing melancholic mirage of “Violet” to the seething twilit sandstorm of “Magenta.” Morgan and English are both adept at conjuring moods of muted grandeur, like landscapes veiled in dusk, still looming and luminous.

The 8-member strong brass band from the windy streets of Amsterdam are back with their fifth studio effort reflecting on their over a decade-long career of bringing the best that instrumental brass music has to offer. With their newest album, they claim their righteous throne as stalwarts of the new European wave of brass bands making waves on the continent.

Containing 9 tracks of top-notch quality brass music from a collective of musicians, friends, and renegades that pursue a quest of innovating of what we know instrumental brass music to be. Gallowstreet is considered a reference point for the (future) sound of European brass bands that mix a multitude of styles into a new sound, whilst simultaneously (re)anchoring the notion of brass bands in its counter-cultural and communal roots. Distinct from its American counterpart, whilst paying homage to the legacy

Northwest & Nebulous is Liverpool-based musician Luce Mawdsley’s sixth studio release, a lush and accomplished instrumental album suffused with radiant and fluid possibilities, where expansively cinematic instrumentals conjure queer cowboy landscapes via the Northern English coastline. The album is a world-building piece of work, pulling from folk, Americana and soundtrack influences, fusing their romantic and exploratory energies to signal the beginning of a new journey for composer, with an open invitation for listeners to come along for the ride. The album was recorded and mixed by Luce Mawdsley in the Grade II listed Scandinavian Church in Liverpool, with a core chamber trio of Luce on guitar, organ and percussion, Nicholas Branton on clarinets, and Rachel Nicholas on viola. A self-taught musician, Mawdsley has released a host of both solo and collaborative albums (Mésange, Cavalier Song), and in 2023 started Pure O records, an independent record label dedicated to the nurture of queer and curious music based in the Northwest of England. “Wordlessly fashions heady, droney atmospheres that could soundtrack a film where a man walks through a monochrome desert” - The Quietus “The spindly guitars and knotty progressions of ‘Insect Fire Dance’ and ‘Heathen’ explore an unprissy English prog with soil under its fingernails” - 8/10 UNCUT "A triumph of imagination – a wide-eyed stare at the skies, in love with sound and possibility." - **** The Skinny “It’s not a stretch to suggest that no one is making music like Mawdsley. While the Liverpool visionary’s 2020 release, Vulgar Displays of Affection (Maple Death Records), was something likened to splintered bones passing through a meat grinder, Mawdsley’s Luke Two is far removed, solidifying the notions of an artist leaping from one sound world” - Sun 13 “Hallucinatory echoes of Alejandro Jodorowsky’s dream-realism symbolic El Topo share room with otherworldly portals and the all-too real depressive, bleak traps of a run-down, unloved English seaside town.” Monolith Cocktail

Halle Weissensee (or Weißensee if you wish) starts where Sascha Funke’s last Ep for Running Back stopped. Mesmerizing house and techno music that interweaves classic forms with modern means and looks through the lenses of nostalgia with an open mind.
The Halle was a former engine plant in Berlin that got converted into a rave areal for the now legendary Mayday raves and one of the birthplaces and leading spots of the nineties. Coincidentally and unknowingly, 1993’s winter edition was attended by Funke and Gerd Janson and a conversation about it spawned this record. Don’t be mislead: this is not a retro rave fest, but an ode to the esprit of the times, the possibilities if an envisioned future and maybe most of all an afterglow. While Reality (sounding like a Relief record if the label would have been a topic at Bauhaus university) and the warped bleepiness of Halle Weissensee itself come closest to the actual sound aesthetic of that very night, Fantasy invokes the language of contemplative deep house from vintage New York, while Puzzle evokes a notion of what the same thing could be with the prefix progressive instead. Reality often falls short behind fantasy, but once in a while both complement each other very well.

"For his fourth full length album, we see the proficiency of instrumentalist and composer Prins Emanuel in full bloom as he turns head deep into the techniques he established on the preceding outing of Diagonal Musik. Here, he revisit what he refers to as a diagonal approach in composing; i.e. starting at one point and then moving to the farthest point in the process, as a way for him to connect the dots somewhere in the middle, or - like I previously described it for the liner notes of that album - “something akin to drawing only shadows and then finishing with the contours”.
And in the tradition of great sequels, this is a much larger and intricate production. While relying on the guitar as a formative backbone to many songs, the layering of brass and woodwinds houses these compositions in bold and sharply lit structures. Mallets and percussion adds an air of momentum but also grounds these tracks in earthy hues.
Thawed and gracious, Diagonal Musik II in essence creates a space that bridges the various paths of Prins Emanuel’s musical universe. At once post-minimalist and avant garde in nature while also peeking through the door at both IDM and folk music, the lingering sensation is that of a well balanced palate that doesn’t break under the presence of repetition. Enveloped in a fourth world approach to jazz and incorporating the more contemplative side of post punk or art pop, there is a story hidden in here that gives cause to the appropriation of these influences.
The inherent warmth of certain instruments play their part in this story. Emanuel often builds on the notion of ‘organic music’ but broadens the definition via subtle electronic enhancements that sit naturally alongside their acoustic counterparts. Take for instance the voice emulator sequence that opens “Kadens Tre” and is dashed on by guitar slides and flute drills to roll further down a hill of staccato percussion. A few tracks in, the lines are so blurred it becomes a natural state until the harsh and eerie sample loops of closing track “Östan Vind” finally breaks the spell. ”

"As Bill Orcutt’s most mature and exhilarating LP to date, Music for Four Guitars was a slab of undeniable Apollonian beauty. Its approachability and obvious novelty landed it not only on the year- end lists of every key-pushing codger in the underground in 2022, but also on NPR in the form of the Bill Orcutt Guitar Quartet, an ensemble assembled to perform this music and featuring Wendy Eisenberg, Ava Mendoza, and Shane Parish in addition to Orcutt. But while their Tiny Desk Concert gave a whiff of the quartet’s easy intimacy, the sterile confines of the virtual recital medium still left a puzzle unsolved: how might these brutally mannered bricks of minimalist counterpoint sound on a stage in front of actual breathing bodies?" "This was the question foremost in my mind when I first saw the quartet in San Francisco a few months before this double live LP was recorded. I was already familiar with the prowess of Eisenberg and Mendoza, two of the most technically intimidating shredders to blast out of the noise/improv underground, and knew Parish as the mastermind behind the epic translation of Orcutt's quartet recordings into a fully notated score. I was ready to be 'blown away'—and I most assuredly was. The quartet navigated Orcutt's jaggedly spiraling right angles into the shining core of the compositions with joyous ease, faithful to the originals in nearly every way (though their tempos were slightly ramped up, Blakey style, to communicate their breathless rush). The renditions were flawless, stellar and inspiring. I had expected nothing less." "Which leads us to this album, Four Guitars Live, recorded in November of 2023 at Le Guess Who? festival during the quartet’s first European tour. The true essence of this set is not simply in its faithfulness to the source compositions, but in the group's easy familiarity (no doubt the result of weeks on the road) and the generosity of their improvisations, both collective and solo. Orcutt, clearly cognizant of both the caliber of his collaborators and the singularity of their voices, has given everyone room to stretch out, and all have delivered some of their most moving passages to date." "One of this record's great thrills for me is imagining a listener, perhaps unfamiliar with the outer limits of contemporary guitar improvisation (or the Tzadik catalog), slammed into catatonia by Mendoza's liquefying lines on Out of the corner of the eye, then revived and healed by the languid, breathy lines of Parish's unaccompanied, spaced-out breakdown of the track's main theme, finally only to be crushed by Eisenberg’s staggering extended solo on Only at dusk (somehow channeling both Eugene Chadbourne and Buck Dharma)." "There's another peak, which begins at the end of side B, in Orcutt's own languid solo, encapsulating the flowing focus of his recent solo LPs, and serving as an introduction to the next side's ensemble tour de force, the psychic heart of the album, On the horizon: its melodic core passing first to Orcutt, launching into a sublime solo turn by Eisenberg, a duo of Parish and Mendoza, before parachuting back into the ensemble for a smashup rendition of Barely visible and Glimpsed while driving (renamed Barely driving) knitted together with an softly bubbling ensemble improvisation. The transfer is orchestrated yet seamless, its tonal form undeniable even in the presence of obvious dissonance." "The breadth of Four Guitars Live gives lie to the false notion that agile, polytonal improv is necessarily without soul, is necessarily inaccessible. Rather, Four Guitars posits a human avant-garde music that the most conservative will recognize as virtuosic and revel in its classic intervals, boiling counterpoint, and precisely- layered facets. Even the rockers in your life might dig it, so why not pass it on?"—Tom Carter

Ivy Falls, the alias of singer-songwriter Fien Deman, will release her first full album in the spring of 2024. 'Sense & Nonsense' sounds mature, with a clear vision and direction. Fien wrote the album after a breakup and leaving her home; she witnessed cracks appearing in her life and found herself in a whirlpool of insecurities. Writing turned out to be the way to reorient herself and discover what she could fill her empty 'house' with. Everything changed: a new life, a new place, new people, and a new view of herself as a musician and writer. Bram Vanparys, aka The Bony King of Nowhere, makes his debutas a producer on Ivy Falls' first release. This unreleased duo impresses with 'the best coda for the confusing time that your twenties can be.'

Sometimes hitting a wall is inevitable. This occurred, partly even literally, in 2020: a broken nose, a painful breakup, and a series of chaotic events shook Fien's foundations. Losing her job, ending her relationship, leaving her home, and returning to her parental home, she hit rock bottom and started her quest to rebuild everything from scratch. After the tumult, Fien decided to shed the oppressive norms and ideas learned as a child and wholeheartedly pursue her own choices and projects.

In the years that followed, each aspect of her life gradually fell into its right place. This extended to her musical identity, themes, and sound. Acquiring some guitars and an upright piano, she endeavored to master them as a self-taught artist. Devoting ample time to her self-made home studio, she returned to the essence, distancing herself from the polished pop sound of her initial work and reconnecting with her first musical love - the singer-songwriters who had colored her teenage years. This rediscovered inspiration marked the first time in her musical career that everything felt perfectly aligned.

The album's artistic approach aligns with a fresh, expansive outlook on life and the future. Fien aims to challenge rigid societal concepts, including the notion of 'golden years.' She questions what and when exactly should be considered the most significant, joyful, and vibrant moments of life. The album delves into topics like the perceived superiority of extroverts, narcotic materialism, and toxic positivity. It's not a lament but rather an ode to what truly matters-the essence, love, and beauty. Fien's perspective encourages finding your inner child and immersing yourself in timeless and profound feelings.

Musically, Fien discovered her perfect match in Bram Vanparys (The Bony King of Nowhere), her newfound love. She wrote the songs, and he took on the role of album producer and co-arranger. Together, they crafted a metaphorical space where every small musical idea has room to flourish, and each insight and effort carries significance. Influenced by indie folk luminaries such as Julia Jacklin, Amen Dunes, Feist, Sharon Van Etten, Sufjan Stevens, and Nick Drake, Ivy Falls has set a high standard for her sound.

The main constant? Fien's distinctive voice commands every song, now revealing greater depth and nuance than ever. In live performances, Ivy Falls is joined by a talented ensemble: Trui Amerlinck (Tsar B, Mayorga), Jasper Morel (Black Box Revelation), Simon Raman (Steiger), and Anton De Boes (Philemon).

In the past, Ivy Falls has launched two EPs, received airplay on Studio Brussels and Radio 1, and shared the stage as supportfor artists like Balthazar, Jessie Ware, Sigrid, and Mabel.

Following their success in recent months with releases like ‘Let It Go’ and ‘Y’all Ready For Dis’ amongst their club-ready dubs, rising duo Y U QT now drop their highly anticipated ‘BABE?’ EP via LG105. Growing exponentially in the past year, Y U QT have earned support from names like Interplanetary Criminal, Prozak, Daffy, Notion, and more whilst expanding their fanbase across radio airwaves as well as club floors on their headline, six date ALL NYTE LONG sold-out UK tour, and a debut Boiler Room performance alongside DJ EZ, Jyoty, and p-rallel.

Rock & Roll, indeed. Ruth Brown’s sizzling full-length debut — also known by its eponymous title — symbolizes what was exciting, fresh, invigorating, and raw about the burgeoning style in its halcyon days. Originally released in 1957, and reissued here in audiophile quality for the first time in partnership with Atlantic Records’ 75th anniversary, the set remains a testament to one of the most pioneering and talented vocalists to ever command a stage.

Mastered on Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab's renowned mastering system in California, pressed at RTI, housed in a Stoughton jacket, and strictly limited to 2,000 numbered copies, Mobile Fidelity’s 180g mono LP of Rock & Roll plays with an immediacy, vibrancy, and fullness that showcase the reach, power, and emotionalism of Brown’s voice. The sound of her support musicians — brassy horns, swinging rhythm combos, echoing backing vocalists, rollicking pianists, jaunty guitarists — is made clear and vivid, helping the upbeat fare to jump, juke, and jive with newfound energy and exuberance. In a related manner, Brown’s slower, more understated material crackles with an intimacy and passion that let you know you're in the presence of a woman who has lived what she sings. The longtime Rock and Roll Hall of Fame member deserves nothing less.

In an era dominated by big-throated vocalists, few — if any — came grander than Brown. The singer, whose repeat million-selling ‘50s success with Atlantic Records led many to call the then-indie label “The House That Ruth Built,” charted two dozen R&B hits in the span of a decade for the fledgling imprint. Rightly coined “Miss Rhythm,” the extroverted Brown put Atlantic on the national map, became the best-selling female musician of the ‘50s, and established a precedent that would ultimately lead to Grammy and Tony Awards. Her early works have lost none of their fire or flair.

Akin to many full-length LPs of its era, Rock & Roll doubles as a collection. Its 14 tracks comprise some of the more famous sides Brown recorded for Atlantic, beginning in 1949 with the all-time-great rendition of the ballad “So Long,” and continuing through 1956. After the song caught the public’s ear, the Virginia native briefly became known for her smoldering style with lovelorn material and torch songs, approaching them (see “Oh What a Dream,” “Old Man River”) with a combination of pained sadness and hardened resilience that had no contemporary equal. Encouraged to pursue the style by Atlantic Records co-founder Ahmt Ertegun, her R&B-driven material soon made her a constant chart presence.

Demonstrating what fellow legend Bonnie Raitt deemed “sex with class and dignity,” Brown merges blues and jazz, swing and gospel in electrifying fashion. She dares you not to move, dance, and get on your feet. A majority of Rock & Roll explodes with uptempo runs and jaunty readings of hot-blooded R&B numbers. Sweaty and sultry, bawdy and bold, Brown eclipses the anthemic blare of the saxophones and joyful clatter of the 88s, singing with a slight catch in her voice and hurricane-gale force that threatens to blow the roof off whatever room her voice occupies.

Evidence abounds. Listen to her prod the band and encourage the band members to blow a fuse on a sizzling “Hello Little Boy,” complete with cries and wails; stretch her phrasing to the heavens on the swaying “Wild Wild Young Men,” laden with romp-and-stomp beats; plead and persuade on the snaking “5-10-15 Hours,” which flips the script on the age’s notions of dominance; use her raspy tones, high notes, and breath control to mesmerizing effect on the smash “Mama He Treats Your Daughter Mean,” recorded with a group led by Ray Charles; survey the scene and take charge on the steaming “As Long as I’m Moving”; and tap a classy albeit flirtatious vein on “Lucky Lips,” which dented the pop charts as her first crossover hit.

Throughout Rock & Roll, Brown knows the lyrical connotations and spirited architecture of the songs inside-out. Her assertive voice — never harsh, strident, or false — is the epitome of the passionate desires and sonic strains that turned into nascent rock ’n’ roll. Brown played a pivotal role in helping the style develop, the record a timeless reminder of a lasting legacy that will never be forgotten.

For a few years Leo Robinson was the sort of hidden secret you sometimes come across in local music scenes. First in Manchester and now in Glasgow, he’d pop up regularly on DIY bills or as local support to a touring act, quietly blowing them off stage with his rich baritone vocal and homespun lo-fi tales of folklore and animism. With The Temple – his debut on PRAH Recordings – he looks set to cross over from being a cult concern.

“There's a spectrum within the album between fully mythologising or symbolising my lived experience, and just stating it in very matter of fact terms - that push and pull between the need to abstract and the need to break through the abstraction and have an honest moment with oneself” he explains. “This is one of the themes of the album as well as part of the process. The aim was to take all these anecdotal or symbolic elements and merge them into one narrative and one world, in a way that you can find your way through the record as if it were a landscape or language with its own logic.”

The record takes on a pastoral, slightly baroque nature that Robinson partly attributes to a friend screening a lot of ‘70s BBC material in his book shop that they used to hang out at. There are also elements of jazz, flickering to life in “The Spring”’s piano-led finale and coda.

Thematically, Robinson likens it to a Jungian ‘Hero's Journey’, his voice possessing a character who goes through several defined stages of consciousness. From conception and the beginning of an earthly life, the first half of the album recognises the development of the protagonist’s narrative and identity, before “The Pink Light”’s freeform departure from the hitherto more song-based suite devastatingly shatters this. The second half of the album then sees the protagonist witness “the uncontainable” water; learning that true divinity lies not in the individual self or lofty notions of gods and temples, but in the unremarkable nettles, insects and dogs on the roadside riverbank - referenced on tracks “The Cormorant” and “The Spring”.

Although now residing north of the border, The Temple was written while Robinson was finding his feet in Manchester, having moved there to go to art school as a teenager (as a visual artist, he has exhibited at the Tiwani Contemporary in London and Cardiff’s Chapter Arts Centre). As a result, many of the tracks bear out the shadows of his experiences in the northern city – at their most visible and explicit on the beautifully fragile storytelling of “The Pavement”. Written the day after the Manchester Arena Bombings, it recalls Robinson waking up to go to work on a hot summer’s day to discover that his street had been blocked off for terrorism investigations; it then progresses through the rest of his day, amidst the grimly surreal aftermath of the previous night.

Having written the chords, melodies and lyrics to the album, Robinson fleshed out the tunes by scoring out parts for the additional instrumentation, but it was only when a friend sent a demo to PRAH that he was able to fund its full recording. Guitars, vocals, piano and French Horn (the latter recorded by Lauren Reeve-Rawlings) were put down at Green Door Studios in Glasgow. Microphones were placed around the room and the sound of the musicians stepping on creaky floorboards and opening creaky doors were left audible to further the record’s live feel. The harpsichord heard on “The Serpent”, meanwhile, came from University of Glasgow lecturer David McGuinness. Strings were then recorded at PRAH Studios by Francesca Ter-Berg and Raven Bush, the Social Singing Choir adding their choral vocals to “Temple II”.

The result is an album that feels both luscious and yet intimately raw; as grand as Richard Dawson at his most panoramic but containing the rough edges and skeletal looseness of a Calvin Johnson work. At times Robinson lyrically moves towards the surreal, but ultimately this is a record grounded in reality; a true showcase of Robinson’s skill as a lyricist and songwriter.

After humble lo-fi beginnings in the Australian Art-Pop Underground, Donny Benet has expanded his cult-like following across the Globe with a resonant Array of danceable Repertoire dealing with Love- and Affection. New album "Mr Experience" marks a new chapter, informed by a wealth of musical- and personal development.

For Mr Experience, Donny envisioned a Soundtrack to a Dinner-Party- Set in the late 1980's. While his earlier Recordings drew Inspiration from DIY Pop Conspirators such as Ariel Pink & John Maus, Donny channelled the Stylings of Bryan Ferry & Hiroshi Yoshimura as the Impetus for new Material, evident on the Intimacy found on ‘Girl Of My Dreams’ and it's lush production- with a soothing whistle-along Chorus for good Measure!

Sincerity has been a key component of Donny Benet’s output since the beginning. His songs deal with genuine Emotion served on a kitsch Platter. An alter-ego manifested in the beginning of the 2010's, Donny has blurred the Lines of Artifice to create a back- Catalogue that can embrace- and challenge, often simultaneously, - the notion of Irony in Art.

"Mr Experience" moves further away from ironic Notions as Donny explores lyrical- and musical themes which embody Observations of Maturation in his audience, his tightknit musical Community- and himself. While ‘mature’ is a term that often rings hollow as an album descriptor, the term couldn’t be more apt for Mr Experience.

Previous album The Don was created with the luxury of time. The phenomenal Response to that Album across Europe- and the United States - fuelled by accompanying Music Videos clocking in Views in the Millions- meant that there were scant Windows of Opportunity to write- and record a follow-up.

With a legacy in Sydney’s music community, working with Sarah Blasko, and tightknik collaborators Jack Ladder & Kirin J Callinan, Donny Benet is accustomed to collaboration on the Stage- and in the Studio, mostnotably on the 2014 full-length release Weekend At Donny’s.



“There is such immense talent evident in every aspect of the Donny Bene experience - the vision of the character, the steadfast adherence his narrative and the musicality of Benet himself all combine to makesomething truly genius.” - Double J, Australin.

“Donny Benet makes feminine music for everybody” - Vice, Netherlands.

“The Don does not sound like amusical copying machine”. - 3voor12 National, Netherlands.

“The set was punctuated with virtuosic solos and exquisite harmonies, and added another layer of genius to the show.
We almost couldn’t handle it... Donny for president!" - Indie Berlin.

“Everyone loves Donny Benet” - Feature in Gonzai, France.

“Phenomenal Australian Showman... Offers Top-Class Dance Music with Virtuose-Bass Guitar- and Keyboard Parts & incredible Sound-Colour feel.” - Podujatie.sk, Slovakia.

Donny has toured Europe five times since the start of 2018 and has played in the UK, Austria, Germany, Slovakia, France, Netherlands, Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Denmark, Switzerland, Czech Republic, Greece and Sweden. The Don will revisit Europe twice in 2020, once for his own headline shows in May then back again in August for festivals!

“But into my miserable brain, always concerned with looking for noon at two o’clock" - Charles Baudelaire (1869)

The Foreign Department is the second album by Astrel K, the solo project helmed by Stockholm-based British ex-pat, Rhys Edwards. Those already familiar with Edwards’ work will likely know him for fronting the cultishly great Ulrika Spacek, and given he operates as the principal songwriter in both projects, much of the same hallmarks of his cathartic, elliptical songwriting are present in Astrel K. Nonetheless, The Foreign Department feels like a rubicon moment of sorts, and the album that Edwards has unconsciously been working towards his entire creative life.

As a title, The Foreign Department offers an instructive guide for the listener, framing a life-in-transition/artist-in-exile document that maps two impromptu moves in twelve months for its songwriter: the first from London in pursuit of a relationship, the second between homes in Stockholm as that decade long relationship then suddenly dissolved. Indeed, diffusion, dissolution and reconstitution feel like appropriate touchstones for its recurring themes. Written amidst the flux of two states, at once isolated from home and then any established emotional anchor, the resulting eleven tracks came to represent a precognitive search for shifting identity and with it forming an unwittingly biographical record. It's commendable and somewhat telling that during this shake up, Edwards somehow landed upon his most realised and original work.

With a former life stripped away, there emerged an opportunity to reinvent a sense of self through art, now not just as a writer, but a composer also. Developing the confidence to arrange songs in ways he'd previously considered off-limits, while also taking cues from the opulent string and brass arrangements of records like Mercury Rev's Deserters' Songs and Death of A Ladies Man by Leonard Cohen, Edwards enlisted a range of performers to bring to life the mini-symphonies forming in his head. Perhaps it's inevitable that an album written while facing the consequences of being alone would eventually ossify around the process of bringing people together.

For all its troubled origins, The Foreign Department is a remarkably warm sounding collection. Edwards' lyrics are typically knotty and neurotic, dancing around the poetry of quarter-life anxiety, but the music itself is often joyous and even uplifting, the combination expressing that neat duality of melancholic euphoria. Edwards sings variously of crises, "torrid pieces of art", of "houses on fire" and not "having the guts for it", yet these troubling sentiments are framed by seemingly incongruous swelling strings, chirping horns or motorik percussion, creating that sense of pushing forward or floating above, of wrapping your troubles in dreams, a salve for the moments when you get a bit too much for yourself.

Lead single, 'Darkness At Noon', likely captures this all best. Named for the French idiom "midi a quatorze heures", the maddening idea of attempting the impossible for the sake of some greater possibly pointless cause, it directly grapples with the opposing notions of wanting and not wanting, of being here and being there at the same time. The conflicting and impossible self. It’s something Edwards addresses in the song at perhaps his most open, opining, “I know I want to be seen, but I hate most of what comes out of me”. And yet here is, putting it all out in the open and on the line, the dialectics of his enlightenment up on show.

With 8 tableaux, I tried to give musical form to a painting. Music is an art that takes place over time. Painting is a freeze-frame at a precise moment in the painter's creative flow.

So how do you combine these two art forms? Do you have to stop time? How do you stop time in music? By basing the structure of the pieces on cycles that recur again and again, we can make the listener believe that the music was there before, and that it will also be there afterwards.

With no beginning and no end, all that's left is this musical freeze-frame. In taking this approach, it became clear to me that music and painting both appeal to contemplation. Another concept I worked on for this record is the notion of randomness in music. Riopelle is often associated with the Automatist movement.

For me, his major works from the 50s are more reminiscent of romantic abstraction or even a great organic and organized chaos (a link to be made with nature here). It was on the basis of this reflection that I tried to integrate the notion of controlled chance or, rather, of chaos filtered through emotion.

The cinematic opening track Inthenever starts off as a film >> somewhere on a desolate coast, where everything has already ceased. This is going to be an album with a story and depth, a fearless tour of the barren shores of our days // or is it possibly just a mirage conclusion of their razor-sharp sound brutalism? Tittingur's third album, Epiphany, is here, pounding with waves they had not done before.

It seems as though this dyad has disposed of all the genre confines that had locked them in, and have grasped the sound of new subject matters, for which the moniker of experimental techno is finally too narrow. With utter urgency and candid to their emblematic, thunderous sound, Dominik's and Matus's deafening mallets collide in beats which are now, more than ever, drenched in a mass of palpable gloom and anguish. As though we could touch the rising levels of the oceans, and smell the melting of the glaciers themselves.

In one way or another, the music of Tittingur has always been about nature, its fierce essence, and its stark contrast with the post-era that we have found ourselves living in. However, whereas before, it was the sound of old, weather-stained concrete, and the pounding of abandoned, overgrown buildings, now it is, unavoidably, their most direct and honest return to nature landscapes, and to human, age-old traditions, referenced in the Slovak folk motives, recordings and found sounds.

On Epiphany, Tittingur's sound becomes yet more abstract, in a sound world that is ambiguous but also unified, and works on its own. The duality of nature and technology, of inland human folklore and the trenches of deepest oceans, invite us to come closer and observe the volatile obliteration taking place. Can we even attempt to re-assess our position with nature, or is this whole experiment doomed to fail?

Unsurprisingly, in the echoes, all the ingredients of the classic Tittingur sound are still present, distilled into new forms >> the ever-present over-saturation, the exaggerated, maximalist approach and megalomania >> the sound of impending climate change, doom, and near-apocalyptic visions, the scent of borovička mixed with the wild North Sea, the agony of contemporary urban life, and the adventure of wilderness: ferocious synths, monumental beats, aggressive basslines and crumbling noise-scapes built of a found-sound, music concréte-like, collagist approach.

At moments, it seems the means have changed. Just until you realise that the sentences of this story are spoken in a new language. If you dive deep enough, and listen to the essence that the music of Tittingur articulates, it's surprisingly easy to understand >> although the notions and emotions are difficult to put into words. The profound narrative of Epiphany is that of an endless inner struggle of society, anxiety, crises, and ambiguously easy // difficult solutions in the post-modern global chaos. It is the calm before a storm. It is the storm. Is it the calm. It is all of it, in itself. credits

The second album by F.K. Raeithel, just after the operetta DIE WURLITZERORGEL DES GEISTES, explores the realms of interlocked rhythm sample and hold music. On 16 tracks different setups of self generating modular synthesizer patches are gathered on this release.

The concept of Dance With Uncertainty is deeply rooted in philosophical, artistic, and cultural traditions. The notion of embracing uncertainty and change has been explored in various forms throughout history, often symbolizing the human experience and the impermanence of life. In the context of music and sound, Dance With Uncertainty could be seen as a reflection of the constant ebb and flow of life‘s uncertainties, captured and conveyed through sonic textures and evolving compositions.

Interlocked Rhythm Sample & Hold Music, this approach to sound creation weaves a mesmerizing tapestry of rhythm, texture, and sonic exploration, captivating listeners and defying traditional musical boundaries. At its core, Interlocked Rhythm Sample & Hold Music is a synthesis of technology, creativity, and a deep understanding of rhythmic intricacies. The foundation lies in the Sample & Hold circuit, a device that captures and freezes incoming voltages, creating distinct musical snapshots that evolve over time or an Linear Feedback Shift Register (eg. Rungler), a circuit used in electronic music synthesis and sound manipulation to create unique and evolving musical textures. The Rungler was created by Rob Hordijk. A more sophisticated use of a 8 bit shift register and by combining this with a typical sequencer design is the Klee Sequencer developed by Scott Stites. A cheap version of this design is the Turing Machine. Another tool is the Analog Shift Register. In the context of creating arabesque melodies, an analog shift register (invented by Fukushi Kawakami and later adapted by Serge Tcherepnin) can be a fascinating tool to generate intricate and ornamented musical patterns. Yet, it‘s the interlocking of these snapshots that sets this genre apart, infusing the compositions with an intricate dance of patterns and pulses. A fourth device is a pendulum or random addressed sequencer, that in the first case moves in a drunken unpredictable manner. Each of these devices for uncertainty becomes a rhythmic sculptor, freezing the dynamic interplay of melodies, beats, and textures. These frozen moments are then interwoven, each snapshot forming a unique thread in a sound tableau that stretches and contracts, pulses and breathes. The result is an auditory experience that challenges preconceptions of rhythm and structure. The interlocked rhythms give rise to complex grooves that ebb and flow in unpredictable ways, evoking a sense of perpetual motion and transformation. The music becomes a living organism, its heartbeats synchronized yet untamed, its evolution both deliberate and free-spirited. The juxtaposition of staccato bursts and fluid flows, of machine-like precision and organic unpredictability. As listeners delve into the world of Interlocked Rhythmic Sample & Hold Music, they embark on a sonic odyssey. The music becomes a companion, guiding them through a labyrinth of rhythmic landscapes that simultaneously challenge and invite them to the dance with uncertainty.

Speak to most musicians about their motivations, inspirations and processes and you will, generally, get variations on a similar, broadly consensual, theme. Natasha Pirard is genuinely different. Her interest in sound goes way beyond the superficial and the ephemeral. She is fascinated by how and why sound makes us feel, the political implications of sound, noise pollution and the everyday sounds embedded in our immediate environment.

Contextually, this makes a lot of sense when confronted with her debut release for DEEWEE, Dream Cycles. A 120-minute exploration of sounds, loops, frequencies and waves, it’s an eight- part musical cycle split into 15-minute sections across four cassettes, she believes, reflects on this notion of cyclical, rather than linear, time. The eight song cycles are repetitive. They start off basic and functional and build over time. They begin with one sound but soon you hear other sounds. From there you get taken to another point, where you hear something else and so on and so forth. The circle is never-ending.

Natasha Pirard is a musicologist and composer from Ghent. She will be releasing her album Dream Cycles in February 2024, as a limited edition four cassette box set, marking her debut on the Ghent-based label DEEWEE.

Musique Infinie is the collaborative project of Manuel Oberholzer a.k.a. Feldermelder and Noémi Büchi.Their album »Earth«, released through the Hallow Ground label, is based on a spontaneously composed live score for Alexander Dovzhenko’s groundbreaking 1930 silent movie »Zemlya« (»Earth«) created for the 24th edition of the VIDEOEX festival for experimental film.

Frequently cited as a masterpiece of early 20th century filmmaking, the movie deals with the collectivisation of Ukraine’s agriculture. The Swiss duo complemented it with atmospherically rich electronic soundscapes that are both deeply immersive and highly evocative. As a stand-alone music release, the two-piece »Earth« album captures the essence of Büchi and Oberholzer’s collaboration that is marked by mutual trust and musical versatility that puts them in a state of »togetherness trance,« as they call it.

Oberholzer has been highly productive as a composer, musician, sound designer, and installation artist in recent years, releasing a slew of solo albums as well as a variety of collaboration records with artists such as Sara Oswald and Julian Sartorius. Büchi has recently debuted as a solo composer and sound artist working with electroacoustic techniques to create a »symphonic maximalism for the end of the world,« as she dubs it.

Both are prolific and versatile artists with a penchant for working conceptually, however their collaboration as Musique Infinie is an improvisational and thus by design an intuitive one.

Their sessions start with an exchange on emotions and thoughts rather than theoretical questions or aesthetic debates. When they get to work—often for several hours—they rarely talk.

They approached »Earth« the same way, improvising freely together and using only a few select samples from the film’s original score in the process. Their open-ended approach is marked by an aesthetic ambivalence that perfectly corresponds with the movie’s own inherent contradictions.

Dovzhenko approached his socio-political subject with poetic imagery and philosophical rigour, juxtaposing notions of traditionality with the depiction of modernity.

Büchi and Oberholzer accordingly work with motives that at o ce seem anthemic and elegiac, working with sounds and musical motives that evoke a sense of familiarity in one moment before transforming into something futuristic and uncanny in the next. Their score for »Zemlya« is not to be understood as a mere interpretation of the movie, but rather a re-narration or even re-negotiation of its aesthetic and emotional qualities under their very own terms. »Earth« is an album that concisely depicts what is at the core of the duo’s musical partnership

Part of a (very) loose but somewhat like minded kaleidoscope where one can trace something like a Portuguese hauntology, centred around labels like Russian Library or Prisma Sonora Records, Alexandre Centeio joins Discrepant with the surefire release of 'Panorama'. A multi-instrumentalist and sound artist based in Porto, Centeio - who is also part of Stellarays and The Murmurous Playground - delivers his second album under his own name after 2022's 'Movanta'.

Signalling a departure from the intimate synth driven beautifully soothing landscapes of 'Movanta' while still working within a realm where space and memory play a significant part of both escapism and connection, 'Panorama' opens itself up to a "surrealistic soundscape filled with real and dreamt sound", perfectly illustrated by Ruca Bourbon’s artwork. A sonic fiction conjured from a variety of sources - hand drums, disembodied voices, scraps of unknown realities, skewed loops, oneiric collages, flutes, spectral synths - that float freely between disruption and continuity but within their own internal logic. A very particular and hallucinatory one at that, mind ya. Collapsing notions of time and geography in an aural canvas totally aligned with Discrepant's ethos. 'Panorama' indeed.

"Webster explores themes of different relationships through her broody tunes, tackling the notion of writing only sad songs by writing her "saddest song" yet. In a way, the record feels like a comingof-age for the singer-songwriter into her own perfectly curated moment, which surely will lead to bigger and better things." - NYLON // "Faye Webster is filled with lush bluegrass sounds, featuring plenty of slide guitar and the occasional trill of a fiddle, which Webster's fragile voice flits through like that of a younger Natalie Prass." - W Magazine // "_a soulful offering heavily inspired by the country and western music she grew up listening to." - Pitchfork "Her self-titled record will win fans across the musical spectrum for its left-of-center approach to folk. Webster is a lifelong student of country-western songwriting and Americana sound (...) But she punctuates her own tunes with subtle flourishes of funk. Her voice hits a sweet spot somewhere between bluegrass powerhouse Alison Krauss, Natalie Prass, and Tennis's Alaina Moore, whose light vocals glide across any melody." - VICE // #8 album of 2017 - Gorilla vs. Bear

"Chamber Music" is the second studio album from American nu metal band Coal Chamber. It came out originally in 1999. This is the first time on vinyl in quite awhile. The album features the hit cover of Peter Gabriel's "Shock the Monkey" with a guest vocal from Ozzy Osbourne. The cut "Tyler's Song" was featured in the movie Scream 3. Coal Chamber reunited in 2023 playing festivals and touring with Mudvayne. They are also putting out a new autobiography.

Optimo (Espacio) started life as a weekly club night. It was born at The Sub Club in Glasgow on a wet, windy, wintry November Sunday night in 1997. Run by JD Twitch and partner in crime Jonnie Wilkes. Optimo was a reaction against what felt like an increasingly conservative musical soundtrack in clubs here at that time. Clubland felt as if it had become very bland and a bit too serious; it was the era of the dawn of the Superstar DJ. Clubs often felt like bastions of male energy. It seemed dance music and culture was going somewhere far, far away from where it was meant to be. The notion of fun had got lost.

It was no longer the world they had devoted ten years of their lives to already, and lots of their friends felt the same. When the opportunity came up to do a Sunday night at The Sub Club it felt like the perfect opportunity to rip it all up and start again. So they did. There was nothing in the city (or possibly anywhere) like it. As the club believed wholeheartedly in what they were doing, there was no pressure from The Sub Club to fill the club. So, they embraced the freedom. Groups of people who had never been in the same room at the same time before came together. A community of kindred spirits started to emerge.

Word spread, slowly. Lots of people checked it out. Many loved it, some hated it. The core of the Optimo idea was to embrace music they loved that might work on the dancefloor from whatever era or genre they thought felt right. It might not seem very radical now but at that time it was revolutionary.

After about a year and a half, the club went from having 100 people attending most nights to suddenly one week having 500 people turn up. It was very weird. It was as if a collective light bulb went off in people’s heads in Glasgow. From that week on, until the very last weekly Sunday night at the Sub Club, in 2010, over a decade later, it was packed.

There were 550 Sunday Optimo nights. A LOT of music was played. So, what was the music? People often find it hard to pin down exactly what Optimo is. This has been a positive but also a negative as we live in a world where people want easily defined “brand identities”. The simplest definition of the music played is “music for dancing”, which of course is a very broad definition. Even better than trying to define it in words, we have these 2 volumes of music that give a hint of what that might be.

This is not a “Best of Optimo” or a “Greatest Hits of Optimo” compilation. For people who come to, or used to come to the nights there are of course “Greatest Hits”. But, over such a long timespan they are “hits” belonging to a certain moment in time and space. Someone who came to Optimo in 1997 would have a completely different notion of the big tracks at the club to someone coming in 2003, or 2010, or today. This compilation is just a snap shot missing several genres that might make up the DNA of Optimo. There is though a broad sweep through lots of music Optimo loves, that they believe is amazing. Music that they know will rock a dancefloor, that they have played between 1997 and 2023. Of course Optimo nights were not all about rocking the dancefloor. The first hour was always a time for them to play music they loved that often was far removed from the dance. Side 1, Volume 1 of this compilation is the kind of music one might hear at the very start of an Optimo night.

Optimo have always loved a good slogan. The most long lived, and fitting Optimo slogan is "We Love Your Ears", which is in essence what it is all about to them.

Optimo (Espacio) started life as a weekly club night. It was born at The Sub Club in Glasgow on a wet, windy, wintry November Sunday night in 1997. Run by JD Twitch and partner in crime Jonnie Wilkes. Optimo was a reaction against what felt like an increasingly conservative musical soundtrack in clubs here at that time. Clubland felt as if it had become very bland and a bit too serious; it was the era of the dawn of the Superstar DJ. Clubs often felt like bastions of male energy. It seemed dance music and culture was going somewhere far, far away from where it was meant to be. The notion of fun had got lost.

It was no longer the world they had devoted ten years of their lives to already, and lots of their friends felt the same. When the opportunity came up to do a Sunday night at The Sub Club it felt like the perfect opportunity to rip it all up and start again. So they did. There was nothing in the city (or possibly anywhere) like it. As the club believed wholeheartedly in what they were doing, there was no pressure from The Sub Club to fill the club. So, they embraced the freedom. Groups of people who had never been in the same room at the same time before came together. A community of kindred spirits started to emerge.

Word spread, slowly. Lots of people checked it out. Many loved it, some hated it. The core of the Optimo idea was to embrace music they loved that might work on the dancefloor from whatever era or genre they thought felt right. It might not seem very radical now but at that time it was revolutionary.

After about a year and a half, the club went from having 100 people attending most nights to suddenly one week having 500 people turn up. It was very weird. It was as if a collective light bulb went off in people’s heads in Glasgow. From that week on, until the very last weekly Sunday night at the Sub Club, in 2010, over a decade later, it was packed.

There were 550 Sunday Optimo nights. A LOT of music was played. So, what was the music? People often find it hard to pin down exactly what Optimo is. This has been a positive but also a negative as we live in a world where people want easily defined “brand identities”. The simplest definition of the music played is “music for dancing”, which of course is a very broad definition. Even better than trying to define it in words, we have these 2 volumes of music that give a hint of what that might be.

This is not a “Best of Optimo” or a “Greatest Hits of Optimo” compilation. For people who come to, or used to come to the nights there are of course “Greatest Hits”. But, over such a long timespan they are “hits” belonging to a certain moment in time and space. Someone who came to Optimo in 1997 would have a completely different notion of the big tracks at the club to someone coming in 2003, or 2010, or today. This compilation is just a snap shot missing several genres that might make up the DNA of Optimo. There is though a broad sweep through lots of music Optimo loves, that they believe is amazing. Music that they know will rock a dancefloor, that they have played between 1997 and 2023. Of course Optimo nights were not all about rocking the dancefloor. The first hour was always a time for them to play music they loved that often was far removed from the dance. Side 1, Volume 1 of this compilation is the kind of music one might hear at the very start of an Optimo night.

Optimo have always loved a good slogan. The most long lived, and fitting Optimo slogan is "We Love Your Ears", which is in essence what it is all about to them.

ESP Institute artist Bartellow, one third of the project Tambien and otherwise known in the Contemporary Classical sphere as Beni Brachtel, returns to the label with his second full-length release, Noosphere. While currently heading the SVS label and residency series out of Munich, Beni’s resume expands well beyond electronic music to include immersive sound installations such as The Adven- ture Of The Empty House (solo live performance across seven floors of Walter Henn’s Deckelbau building), a slew of compositions for the Bavarian State Opera (for which he doubled as conductor), and a prolific career of over twenty-five theater scores for institutions such as the Münchner Kammerspiele, Schauspiel Basel, Maxim Gorki Theater Berlin, Berliner Ensemble, Schauspiel Köln, Schaus- piel Graz and with directors Ersan Mondtag, Alexander Eisenach, Jessica Glause and Tobias Staab among others.

Noosphere is a compendium excerpting from theatrical scores WUT (Elfriede Jelinek, at Schauspielhaus Köln, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2020), Ödipus and Antigone (Maxim Gorki Theatre Berlin, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2017), Der Zauberberg (Thomas Mann, Schauspiel Graz, directed by Alexander Eisenach, 2017), Hass Tryptichon (Sybille Berg, Wiener Festwochen / Maxim Gorki Theatre, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2019), Wonderland Ave. (Sibylle Berg, Schauspielhaus Köln, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2018), Die Verdammten (after Visconti ́s film, Schauspielhaus Köln, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2019) and Roi Ubu (Alfred Jarry, Theater Neumarkt, Zurich, directed by Alexander Eisenach, 2018).

The work traverses homages, infusing everything from Baroque to Impressionism, and while these types of references are certainly built into the canon of Theatre as a discipline, here we gather histor- ic layers in an even wider net. Under the self-referential thumb of Contemporary Classical music, this sort of "hindsight" approach has been largely avoided, however, in today’s all-access arena, the constant stream of historic causal-chained events has opened a delta where anything is possible. This defines Bartellow’s stance among his colleagues as well as his cultural position as a composer.

Beni considers beauty a fleeting objective in the arts, that expression is often expected to follow notions of Destructivism or the unfulfilled. Art will pore over wounds, collective angst, mourn- ing a loss of natural habitat or a fear of technological invasion, yet there is a bitter irreverence for the friction or salvation in beauty itself. Acknowledging this subjectivity — what one audience considers superficial pleasure may be deeply profound to another — he leans into musical instinct as if composing via divine conduit.

Noosphere conjures a array of suspense, ecstasy, melancholy, and dread, but in isolating the work from its theatrical component, Brachtel directs our focus toward formal qualities, clearing unim- peded space to conceive fresh narratives and examine dynamism and interconnectivity. In sympathy with often difficult theatre pieces, the passages can be dark and transgressive, but more importantly they remain relative to Brachtel’s circumstances at their time of creation. The title Noosphere speaks to the evolution of human thought and knowledge, opening a door to subjective points-of-view. For example, Nexus II On The Beach refers to both Roberto Musci’s Water Messages On Desert Sand as well as the film Bladerunner, invoking the image of an android enjoying the sunset, but whether or not this abstraction may be considered beautiful depends the listener’s cumulative life experience and perspective.

This is hybrid chamber music, augmented by electro-acoustic layers, juxtaposing various periods and successively processing their residual themes into a trans-generational rendering of “now.”

The vinyl edition of Klein's 2022 album: »STAR IN THE HOOD« plays like a cracked, tarnished mirror of contemporary numbing music, replacing long-form expression with tighter, more explosive and sometimes completely freeform transmissions that will wake you up from your overly comfortable environmental music slumber. Opening with cycling ghost drones, dialog and piano motifs that blur into heartfelt noise, »black star« is all loping, looping piano and chthonic vocals spiked with cheese-grater noise and chipmunked chirps. It’s Klein’s delirious vocal runs that push the album to the next level though; like her style-defining »Lagata« and the Hyperdub-released »Tommy,« she subverts the raw material that makes up R&B, turning memorable hooks into blurry impressions that will glue to your mind like a diva moment on a Suburban Bass cut.

She keels into longform on »schooled,« fogging organ drones into hazed clouds that gust into imposing shapes over a 10-minute duration, rekindling the dialog between contemporary noise and gospel music. Grandiose classical sounds receive a similar treatment on ‘Friend in the Mirror’, pulled into disorienting shapes that dispel any notions of class gatekeeping; in the final third, Klein’s voice interrupts the mood, before machine-gun percussion reminds us not to get too comfortable. If yr in search of beauty, »postcode wars« finds Klein fuzzing euphoric chords into an afterparty woosh of half-heard voices and dribbling synths. She simultaneously channels rapture and wrath, poignantly torching the contemporary societal skeleton without losing her near-at-hand community in the process.

Midway through the album there’s a thematic pivot signalled by the brief »shorty alert,« a trilling mass of carnivalesque vocal quirks that sound like spiders spitting DMT into yr eardrums. From here, things get darker and more unsettling: there’s doomed subterranean ambience on »signed and delivered«, Disney-esque piano motifs, blown-out lo-fi outsider rawk on »Swerve,« and speaker garbling free eccentric soul on »brand new day,« each struck through with that unmistakable high-vs-low culture posturing. It all brings us to the album’s unsettling one-two punch of ‘haha hehe business’, maybe the foamiest track we’ve heard from her this year, and the zonked »winter« - a piece that’s as crystal clear as Klein gets, an unprocessed heartstring-tugging vocal performance over acoustic guitar twangs.