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Area Silenzio is eat-girls" debut record and it is both haunted and haunting. For the past four years, the French trio have been crafting their songs into little self-contained worlds with the patience of entomologists, taking them out all over the country and Europe to confront them with the wilderness of a live audience. The ten resulting tracks are a collection of electronic madrigals, groove-driven songs played on a mischievous multi-speed Victrola, ranging from languid dub drips to full-on drum machine cavalcades. Their live performances have that same ghostly, ephemeral quality. There is something other-worldy about the three of them, a suggestion of telepathy, their three voices blending together or going their separate ways like a flock of starlings. They secured opening slots with artists as different as Thalia Zedek, Exek and The Young Gods, just to name a few. It is the elusive essence of their music that allows them to feel at ease pretty much anywhere they find themselves: part no-wave disco rhythms, part post-punk throbbing basses, folk tunes and synthesizers in equal measures, with a perpetual attention to hooks and melodies. The album was self-recorded, a necessary measure to protect the delicate nature of the inner landscapes painted by the band. In this case "delicate" does not mean "soft" by any means: the industrial disco inferno of "A Kin", the ritualistic kraut stampede of "Para Los Pies Cansados" and the bubbly post-funk rhythms of "Trauschaft" will leave you gasping for air once you come out on the other side. "On a Crooked Swing", the opener, is all arpeggiated bass and stumbling kicks. "Unison" will dip you into a hallucinatory river where nothing is what it seems to be and rescue you at the very last second. "Canine", the first single off the record, will gently but firmly reach for your jugular with its vulpine Farfisa and deceptively nonchalant drum beat. The vocal polyphonies on "3 Omens" sound like a field recording of traditional music from a tiny country that has yet to be discovered. eat-girls exist on a slightly different plane from ours, where everything is teeming with secrets and hidden life. Area Silenzio is a precious polaroid shot from that world, or, as Tom Verlaine would have it, "a souvenir from a dream".

Area Silenzio is eat-girls" debut record and it is both haunted and haunting. For the past four years, the French trio have been crafting their songs into little self-contained worlds with the patience of entomologists, taking them out all over the country and Europe to confront them with the wilderness of a live audience. The ten resulting tracks are a collection of electronic madrigals, groove-driven songs played on a mischievous multi-speed Victrola, ranging from languid dub drips to full-on drum machine cavalcades. Their live performances have that same ghostly, ephemeral quality. There is something other-worldy about the three of them, a suggestion of telepathy, their three voices blending together or going their separate ways like a flock of starlings. They secured opening slots with artists as different as Thalia Zedek, Exek and The Young Gods, just to name a few. It is the elusive essence of their music that allows them to feel at ease pretty much anywhere they find themselves: part no-wave disco rhythms, part post-punk throbbing basses, folk tunes and synthesizers in equal measures, with a perpetual attention to hooks and melodies. The album was self-recorded, a necessary measure to protect the delicate nature of the inner landscapes painted by the band. In this case "delicate" does not mean "soft" by any means: the industrial disco inferno of "A Kin", the ritualistic kraut stampede of "Para Los Pies Cansados" and the bubbly post-funk rhythms of "Trauschaft" will leave you gasping for air once you come out on the other side. "On a Crooked Swing", the opener, is all arpeggiated bass and stumbling kicks. "Unison" will dip you into a hallucinatory river where nothing is what it seems to be and rescue you at the very last second. "Canine", the first single off the record, will gently but firmly reach for your jugular with its vulpine Farfisa and deceptively nonchalant drum beat. The vocal polyphonies on "3 Omens" sound like a field recording of traditional music from a tiny country that has yet to be discovered. eat-girls exist on a slightly different plane from ours, where everything is teeming with secrets and hidden life. Area Silenzio is a precious polaroid shot from that world, or, as Tom Verlaine would have it, "a souvenir from a dream".

The Boysnoize Records catalogue contains more than a decade of milestones in the life of Angeleno DJ and producer PILO. His signatures—a focus on sound design, and a digital crunch evocative of hardware rather than software—are present from the very beginning, but the evolution of Pilo’s skill and sophistication is clear as he stretches from electro to experimental to techno and back again in a slowly oscillating gradient. Yet despite his dozen or so releases in just as many years, G.L.A.M. (dropping November 8th, 2024 from BNR) is Pilo’s first proper album. That the record embraces the cyclical nature of time is apropos; the artist’s journey towards self-actualized mastery always ends with a new beginning.



Over the eight tracks of G.L.A.M., Pilo reaches deep into the dream that first ignited the passion that has driven him since. For a chosen few internet-connected American teens in the aughts, the sounds of European electro (and electroclash) trickled down their ethernet cables and instilled a fantasy of exotic, sartorial, sexually-fluid hedonism that felt a world away from the hard-edged masculinity of the hip-hop and skate cultures dominant at home. Pilo opens G.L.A.M. expressing this idealized fantasy with the track “Superstar DJ,” channeling the tongue-in-cheek self-celebritizing of Miss Kitten and The Hacker’s seminal work. “I’m a superstar, come meet me at the bar,” hiss Pilo’s heavily effected vocals, over a bassline of chopped mentasm synths driven by a swift, club-ready rhythm. The fingerprint of 2000’s electro a la International Deejay Gigolo Records is recognizably present, yet Pilo is too adept, too confident in his studio abilities to let his tracks rely on the retro. A great joy of this album is the future-facing richness of its production, always nodding to its spiritual guide of the past, while constantly breaking new sonic ground.



G.L.A.M. continues with “Girls Rule The World,” its vicious, droning bassline and sticky, titular hook making it the perfect electroclash soundtrack for a revenge plot on an ex-boyfriend. “What you Want” offers an instrumental exercise in “synthesizers are the new guitars,” and Pilo’s FX chops really shine as he warps and distorts his sounds into an undiscovered dimension existing somewhere between both. “Loverboy” enters the more melodic, Legowelt-inspired realm of electro, pushing above and beyond the foundation of analogue minimalism with flourishes of impressive sound design to construct something both climactic and cathartic. Scopa lends her perfect coldwave sprechgesang to titular track “G.L.A.M.,” with Pilo’s vocal processing offering surprises throughout and his FX chains wielded as instruments unto themselves.



On the track “A Slow Thinning Halo,” Pilo might be conjuring the haunting vocal chops and chiptune simplicity of early Crystal Castles, but the whiplash snap of his drums and sizzling production are all his own. “Spend the Night” is G.L.A.M.’s least nostalgic—and most unashamedly pop—offering, with the mic being passed between Sana and DEEVIOUS (previously featured on Pilo and Boys Noize’s 2023 track “Pvssy.”) DEEVIOUS’ sultry singing rides atop the bassline as it hypnotically struts across the floor, while Pilo’s skillful arrangement, deft rhythm programming, and atmospheric control elevate the songcraft into full-spectrum worldbuilding.



As the penultimate track, the contemporaneity of “Spend the Night” serves as transition away from the album’s previous, past-leaning exercises, allowing Pilo to step fully into the future with “One Last Embrace.” The closing track still references aughts sounds, but it borrows so widely and prolifically that Pilo’s reassemblage can only be described as singular. Here, Pilo pushes his engineering into psychoacoustic territory, as the eerie, beautiful melancholy of “One Last Embrace” explodes into a thrashing bassline that warbles like a drowning memory, struggling against the sinking weight of time. Pilo allows it to survive for 16 electrifying, gut-wrenching bars before letting go. In G.L.A.M., as in Pilo’s career, as in life, every ending can only be a new beginning.

Computer Future is the sprawling and ambitious third album by amorphous Brisbane, Australia garage rock outfit Velociraptor! The 14-song opus is the best recorded capture yet of everything that makes the ‘Raptors so beloved, a stream of addictively catchy rockers characterised by stupidly infectious melodies, an overabundance of earworm hooks, guitars aplenty plus of course their trademark gang vocals and harmonies. The shadowy cabal behind Velociraptor have returned from a spell away from the spotlight with renewed vigour and focus, more committed to and appreciative of their combined talents and chemistry than their younger selves, who were perhaps more about concerned about chasing good times rather than long ones. These days there are more cooks in the ‘Raptors kitchen than before but that’s only allowed them to expand the palette of the Computer Future menu without compromising on quality. Their distinctively melodic take on the garage rock form is still entirely evident, only it’s now augmented by quirkily compelling sonic detours into psych and new wave realms, the band all the while sounding wholly like themselves and nobody but themselves (apart from perhaps the Devo-indebted title tracks). In their halcyon days Velociraptor were a force to be reckoned with, an amorphous collective sometimes up to 12 members strong - many of them wielding guitars of some description - who partied hard and played even harder, attacking their live shows with unbridled glee and genuine gusto. They toured Europe/UK, and staged with bands the calibre of Black Lips, New York Dolls, OFF!, Radio Birdman and Violent Soho. The unparalleled camaraderie of their renowned live blitzes - plus sheer size of the band - at times threatened to overshadow the genuine strength of their songwriting and recorded output, but now with Computer Future those concerns are firmly in the past!

For soul-reggae artist Natty, music isn’t just pleasure, it is also a healing power.

The London-raised singer-songwriter has been on a remarkable journey of creative and personal discovery in recent years, moving his partner and children to rural Jamaica to live off-grid and off the land, while delving deep into studies on music’s mental and physiological properties .

The result of this journeying is Natty’s expansive, fourth album, The Divine Trinity.

Across nine tracks he employs his trademark vocal power and uplifting melodies to explore everything from earthy funk grooves to guitar-strummed yearning, emphatic spoken word entreaties and spacious, dubbed-out reggae.

Partnering with his longtime band The Rebelship once more, Natty also expands his reggae-influenced sound through the instrumental frequencies of South Asian tablas, Zimbabwean mbira and wooden flutes. “There’s so much that I’ve never done before in this record,” he explains. “We have a song in 5/4, inspired by my time learning music in Zimbabwe, as well as sound bowls, the song of the crickets from the land we live on in Jamaica and hand drums from all over. Its ancient frequencies combined with classic songwriting, allowing people to tune into the power of music.”

A followup to his 2022 debut Dayyani released on his own label, Trop Op " sees the drummer delve deeper into the mood of pedal steel, trumpet and Nordic folk he discovered early in his writing practice and develop it into a bigger, more comprehensive vision. Featuring eight original compositions and an arrangement of a traditional Swedish folk song, Dayyani s simple yet sophisticated writing style is focussed on lyrical thematic melodies, rich folk harmony, and showcasing each member of the sextets musical identity.With years of playing together in a number of up and-coming Danish jazz groups including Tigeroak, Nordlys trio and Vingborg/Valencia Quartet, the ensemble is well versed in giving each other space to express their voices freely. Soaring reverberated arcs from the pedal steel, subtle drum grooves and expressive, tasteful improvisations offer up an imaginative fresh perspective on contemporary Nordic jazz. The records title translates to Step Up ", referring to Dayyani s view that we all need to step up for our communities and share more of ourselves to the people around us. "We live in a time where there is an increasing focus on our mental health, and personal growth where we need to take care of ourselves. In doing so, I think we can sometimeswithdraw too much into ourselves, focus on the inner self and forget to stand up for eachother and the community surrounding what we do.

Born Xavier Amin Dphrepaulezz, by now much has been made of Fantastic Negrito's own unique story--his early years growing up in an orthodox Muslim household, the doomed major label deal that turned him off of the music industry altogether, the near-fatal car crash that permanently damaged his guitar playing hand--as well as the remarkable redemption arc that began in 2015, when he won the first ever NPR Tiny Desk Contest. In the years that followed, Negrito would go on to take home three consecutive GRAMMY Awards for Best Contemporary Blues Album, tour with everyone from Sturgill Simpson to Chris Cornell to Bruce Springsteen, collaborate in the studio with the likes of Sting and E-40, launch his own Storefront Records label, perform at Lollapalooza, WOMAD, Glastonbury, Newport Folk, Byron Bay Blues, and nearly every other major festival on the map, and found the Revolution Plantation, an urban farm aimed at youth education and empowerment. Son of a Broken Man sees Fantastic Negrito encapsulating the inimitable elements of his celebrated body of work to date, from hard-hitting distorted guitar riffs to melodic and expressive ballads, all fueled by the unexpected twists that have become his trademark. The album stands as perhaps Fantastic Negrito's most personal thus far, exploring family, deception, and the human desire to hide the true self as he dives deep into one of the oldest conflicts in human history, the struggle between father and son. Beginning at a young age, Negrito was served untruths by his father. A made-up last name, a fabricated ancestry, and a fake Somali accent. Why lie? Why create this false narrative? Those are the questions Negrito had to ask himself and the questions that lie at the heart of Son of a Broken Man.

The two separate double vinyl sets are now available that correlate to the triple CD released earlier this year. TMTCH stumbled into existence onstage at the Alternative Country Festival, Electric Ballroom, Camden on Easter Sunday in 1984; after a long afternoon busking and drinking in a Hammersmith subway. They knew three chords and a hundred songs all of which sounded a bit the same, a frenzied skiffle that was exciting to jump around and drink snakebite to. If they thought about longevity at all, a lifespan of 40 days seemed most likely. It's forty years later and they are still running. Since those early days, and without much of a game plan other than always stepping onward, TMTCH have released around 20 albums plus many side projects, bootlegs, curios and an unknown number of T shirts. They've toured constantly, whether in dingy pub backrooms or Grand Ballrooms and Festival Stages. From Cairo to Reykjavik and all points in between, the TMTCH roadshow has shambled and thrilled through the decades, always passionate, always literate, occasionally dishevelled. Forty years of recording has spawned a vast back catalogue, well represented here by songs from each album, style and era; a tapestry of human stories and vibrant characters. So there are the fast sprints like early folk hoedown 'Ironmasters', the frantic shanty 'Raising Hell' and the amphetamine punk blues of 'Going Back to Coventry'. Then there are the waltzing folk ballads, from their impassioned version of the anti war standard 'Green Fields Of France' to the bitter regret of 'The Bells' and the righteous testimony of 'Our Day'. Elsewhere there are anthems galore; 'The Crest' a swirling gaelic chant, 'Rosettes', a fast marching assault of drums, fiddles and mandolins; historical epics such as 'Ghosts Of Cable Street', 'Shirt of Blue' and 'The Colours'; romantic ballads like the wistful 'Parted From You' and 'Island in The Rain'. All the eras are here; from the wiry lo fi of the first album, through the eighties into full blown MTV ready multi trackers with vast charging drums; the initial simplicity of their recipe deepening and darkening. And then on through the nineties, noughties and tens; always the double pronged vocals drifting between harmony and unison, always the celtic, folk and country tones vying for attention, the emotive fiddle, the top end mandolin above the thundering rhythm section. On through bouffant hair, spiky hair, dyed hair, thin hair and hats; on through Grunge, Baggy, Madchester, Rave, Britpop. On through the Miner's Strike, Poll Tax, New Labour, Iraq and Brexit. On through marriage, children, loss and revival. Forty years at the working end of rock and roll is a feat achieved by very few bands. It requires tremendous chemistry, a deep catalogue; both panoramic and miniature, a vital and irrepressible energy, all of which is on resplendent display in this sprawling 3 disc compilation. But most of all it requires an intense resilience, something that TMTCH possess in spades. Forty years on the run; was ever a band so aptly named?

Next up on Feral Child comes the debut vinyl release from Austin Tx psych outfit NEON LEMON.

Having caught the eye of label head Dom on some cool looking, local Spacemen 3 themed nights’ posters; further digging revealed this incredible, richly melodic, yet deep psychedelic beauty with -seemingly- no home for a release on wax, so it was pretty easy to step in and offer to release it. “Hypnagogic Visions” is a superb, fuzz n’ drone drenched 6 track 10” LP in a sleeve designed by the legendary Jim Franklin (a friend of the band) who famously designed beautiful posters, flyers and gig tickets for the Elevators, Shiva’s Headband and Canned Heat amongst others, in his role as owner of the Vulcan Gas Company, a revered 60s Austin psychedelic club and concert hall. As Ben Siebert from the band explains: “This record was mostly written and recorded in a warehouse space outside of Austin (that no longer exists) called The Inner Chamber. We tried best to capture our live sound in this space, and with most band members in a state of constant turmoil at the time of its recording, this space offered a refuge from our personal lives and a place to transcend reality through creation of this music.” Neon Lemon blends together mind altering psychedelic sounds of the 60's with transcendent space rock of the early 70's. Finding their own balance between free form psychedelia and a mainline of roots rock and roll.

Limited one time 10” pressing, distributed by Forte Music Distribution and available late October 2024.

There is NO LIGHT at the end of this tunnel! BROWN ACID: The Nineteenth Trip fires ten more savage nails deep into the coffin of ‘60s psychedelic idealism. This series is THE premier top dog journey into the rarest and most wasted early local eruptions of heavy rock, unleashed at a time when harsh reality, human nature and disillusionment drove prevailing underground rock glimpses of a ‘better’ world into ever darker selfabsorbed comedowns. Mind expanding ’60s love energies transform into toxic aggression right before your ears! The great thing is that these moves are totally justified, ‘we are all one’ is cosmically good in theory but ‘get it while you can’ ends up perhaps better advice in the light of human history. Both of those angles of awareness can coexist, some of these bands deliver unrelenting sideways positive energy but they aren’t over-thinking it, they are youthfully driven by hunger for life and satisfying the undeniable urges their DNA thrusts upon them. Sonically, the results in the BROWN ACID series never fail to breathe hot and heavy, the guitars kill it every time, the variety of approaches these tracks take keep the scenery shifting into new places. The key element that makes this stuff so potent is that THEY (the bands) are in control. Captured genuinely with no compromise, right out of the gate. No doubt they had ambition with high hopes for the future when they laid down these primal efforts, the fact that they captured their energy so vividly at a moment in time when the only direction imaginable was UP creates a hard hitting life affirming subtext to the proceedings. That is the core energy of blues and rock and roll, dealing with the struggles of existence by flipping a gigantic ‘what the fuck’ high energy bird right in the face of the moronic defective reality these bands were born into. If you take this stuff too ‘seriously’ you are utterly missing the point, it is beyond analysis, it is life itself! No amount of thinking will get you there quicker! BROWN ACID: The Nineteenth Trip is scary... the bottomless pit of deranged vintage heavy rock the series presents continually expands over time... one deadly dose too many and you might be trapped in the bad trip loop forever... enjoy it or lose your mind!

A career-spanning Compilation, including new and rare mixes, compiled by Dr. Alex Paterson. "Orboretum: The Orb Collection" goes way back, but also focusses on recent highlights from albums such as "Abolition Of The Royal Familia" (2020) and "Prism" (2023) - which were cited by the media as some of their greatest work - up there with the bonafide gold of yesteryear. "I don"t want The Orb to end up milking it like Roxy Music, who were always cranking out another best-of, although we did release the "History Of The Future" best-of in 2013, and its part 2 in 2015 to be fair. We have such a gigantic catalogue though, that sometimes even I need a reminder of what I"ve done, especially these days. This is a sort of director"s cut, reframing our output, making new neuro pathways, and new juxtapositions. Some of these tracks are 30 years apart, but there are clear through lines, a continuum." Alex Paterson
























v Metallic Spheres In Colour - Round Side (2024 Edit) wi

diskJokke - Loving HowardCurses - Hell yeah. I vibe with this!
Jorkes - U la la. Thanks so much. superduper <3
Heidi Lawden - Nice release for all moods
Gameboyz - Slow and power. Thanks
Pete Herbert - Yes solid all round!
Chloe - Nice EP
Severino Panzetta (Horse Meat Disco) - Yeeeeees
Xinobi - Lisbon and Porto legends. Super cool tunes
DC Salas - Howard is big!
Mufti - Fantastic EP all around! Howard my favorite
Thomass Jackson - New Ears for me Thanks!

Long time friends and Lisbon-based Mirror People & OITO//OITO for the last 20 years have been lighting up dancefloors all over their native Portugal and beyond, with their passion for eclectic sounds as the main fuel for their sonic mission. ‘MP88’ marks their first EP together. ‘Howard’ opens with rugged 4/4 rhythms, acid squelches and meandering arps to set the tone, ‘New Ears’, takes things on saturated drums & fills, vintage stab sequences and enigmatic strings. Last but not least, is the dropped tempo acidic feel ‘Alive & Kicking’. Another flawless EP in OITO//OITO Discos, limited to 300 copies, this time in Yellow vinyl.

Noisy (Rockin') Hardcore / Punk outfit VAUTOURS is now closing its EP Trilogy with their most mature, hybrid and tortured work to date : "LIVE FOREVER".

Adding distorted "pop" ingredients in their crude and strange Noise recipe, VAUTOURS gathers late 90's / early 2000's Noise Rock, Crust / Hardcore, Post-Rock and "metallic" Punk influences, blending Unwound and McLusky, Cult Leader and Young Widows into something hyper-versatile, silly-serious... And radically unique.

Plunge into this crude yet sparkling, bittersweet love letter now.
Cause you won't Live Forever (but you'll get what you want).

HAIL THE QUEEN, LIVE FOREVER !

Following the cult success of the first 2 EPs, Common Saints presents
the debut album "Cinema 3000". The theme continues, blending soul,
funk, and psychedelic influences, with the organic sound and rich
instrumentation that Common Saints has become known for.

Conceived in 2020 by writer/producer Charlie J Perry the production approach

for Commons Saints consists of him playing and recording real instruments in his

London home studio. One mike for the drums, his beloved piano and amps up

loud!



The album encapsulates the old school recording approach and musicianship the

discerning ear craves but with a more modern punch - a true sonic bath for all the

connoisseurs out there. Think, UK's equivalent to Tame Impala and Khruangbin.



The first EP "Idol Eyes" (2020) has seen 3 re-presses to date and is now selling at

multiples on Discogs. "Cinema 3000" is set to surpass expectations and is highly

anticipated within the Commons Saints community. The first LP pressing is on a

' blue meteorite splatter’ effect colour vinyl and will be limited to 2000 units

globally. Also available on CD, presented in a 6-panel digipak.

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

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

Colombian artist Kabinett brings a soul and harmonic proposal in the many forms of alternative disco and house through embellished productions and DJ sets finding himself every time as medium for all possibilities.

Involved in music from an early age through classical music, while being exposed and inspired by his older brothers in the many forms of what electronic music was developing, Nicolás, his given name, knew that his future and purpose was only going to be around what matters him the most, music. After learning different instruments in the early years and through a mix of self-education and formal education in contemporary music and music production, as well his first steps as a DJ, at age 20 he was ready to get involved in Colombia's capital electronic music scene as curator, DJ, label owner and music producer.

Founder of vinyl house label Nómada Records next to established artist such as Felipe Gordon & Joint4nine, his mentors, Kabinett have been fed enough to developed a full curation career working for Kaputt Club, El Coq & W Hotels, and more recently Casa Cruxada where he has helped to develop an identity for each which as of today has only enriched the local scene.

More recently as head of Kaputt.wav, his new label, which is now house of artist such as Curses, Iñigo Vontier, Theus Mago, Dombrance, Damon Jee, among many more, promises to keep growing and develope music overseas.
As of his personal artist career, have count on releases in labels such as Glitterbox, Midnight Riot Records, Partyfine, Platino Records, Duro, Playground, Sonido Moderna and more recently in Prins Thomas own label, Intersnajonal which will release his third solo EP in summer 2024.
With a deep understanding and experience on the music scene and a strong influence on dance genres, Kabinett and his music transcends the listeners souls and dive deep into a conscious dance.

Back in stock! As hip-hop’s online footprint began rapidly expanding in the early 2010s, acclaimed Los Angeles emcee Blu was a rising star who commanded attention. Just a few years removed from the breakthrough success of Below The Heavens and an appearance on the XXL Freshmen list, the talented wordsmith was navigating the major label system, dropping self-produced mixtapes, and working with artists like The Roots, Miguel, Flying Lotus, 9th Wonder, and more. In 2011, the mysterious album Jesus turned up on Bandcamp, uploaded by an artist calling himself “b.” Soon discovered to be the latest project from Blu, the unpolished but deeply soulful collection quickly made waves on blogs and social media. Just weeks later, Jesus improbably became one of Blu’s first official solo releases, and it remains a lo-fi masterpiece, with mesmerizing production by Alchemist, Madlib, Knxwledge, Hezekiah, and Blu himself. Now, this classic is receiving a long-overdue vinyl reissue, complete with the Jesus-era bonus track “Arrow & The Sparrow” featuring Jimetta Rose.

Techno House Connoisseurs are back with a proper VA full of acid and tech house delights for the heads. This EP has 5 dance floor whoppers for even the most discerning ear. Starting things off on the A side is Los Angeles duo Warehouse Preservation Society with a chunky bass heavy breakbeat-ish slammer called Fugitive Funk. Hypnotic west coast music at its finest. THC is stoked to welcome Londons Flash Mitra to the label. Flash's debut track is a psychedelic acid house gem perfect for those looking for something moody, dreamy and percussive. This jam will be welcomed on dance floors worldwide. Flip to the B side with THC stalwart Praus unleashing another low slung acid chugger. Magnetism creeps along working its way into your psyche with its warped and unusual vocal snippets and percussive rhythms topped with a healthy dose of 303. Big room cosmica muziks! Track 2 on the B finds label head Space Ace and Seattle's Sherman C of Selector records together bringing to light a buried acid monster titled Just a dream. Crisp percussion underlies a burly acid baseline with more 303 with a breakdown that will bring the floor to a peak. Not for the faint of heart. Lastly Warehouse Preservation rounds out the VA with a filthy dub of Fugitive Funk with a bass line that will rumble the floor and percussion that is so satisfying you will be looping it throughout your set. Bells, congas and claps all reverberating and panning for that head candy you won't be able to get out of your head.

Arbes’ long-awaited debut album, "Counterways", exists on the cusp between the ethereal and the more attention-seeking concerns of pop. The record invites listeners into an unusual sonic world of atmospheric depth. Comparisons can be drawn to New York post-punk of a more colourful bent, running Blondie all the way through to Gang Gang Dance. The album's dream-pop dimension brings to mind Cocteau Twins, while its grittier, art-rock moments, coloured with ambience feels akin to Deerhunter. Glimmering flashes of psychedelia channels the likes of Melody's Echo Chamber.

The ten track album explores romantic dreaming and the struggle to (not) understand and to be understood. It memorialises glimmers of connection, discontentment and longing. Front woman Jess Zanoni’s soulful, oracular voice is anchored by the earthbound brambles of prickly guitar and brushstroke percussion, where all is tethered to a surface of unearthly detail and resonance. Written and recorded over a five year period (2017-2022), Arbes eke out every possible ounce of emotionality from their songs. Not to sedate, but to guide listeners somewhere unexpected, at the song or album's conclusion.