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James 'Perturbator' Kent and Cult of Luna are the masters of their respective worlds. Over the last decade, the French maestro has become the most expectation-breaking name in synthwave, transcending its '80s video game aesthetic with metal and post-punk.

Meanwhile, the Swedish sextet have affirmed themselves as post-metal's biggest stars. Seismic riffs, earth-quaking growls and brave collaborations with everyone from Julie Christmas to Colin Stetson have ensured they're as blistering as they are forward-thinking.
Eclecticism and violence are married in Final Light: Perturbator's team-up with Cult of Luna singer/guitarist Johannes Persson. The pair's self-titled debut album is the perfect conglomerate between seemingly incompatible sounds.

On its opening track, the insidious "Nothing Will Bear Your Name", synths bubble to construct an arresting opening half. Then, release. Johannes' roar strikes and guitar chords boom as computerised beats anchor the chaos.

"It Came with the Water" echoes Cult of Luna's 2013 titan Vertikal, invoking images of an urban dystopia as its deep guitar melody grinds beneath sci-fi electronica. The title track's distorted EDM beats, on the other hand, are all James 'Perturbator' Kent, capable of invigorating the seediest of underground nightclubs. Both parties are clearly playing to their strengths - but for them to do so in such perfect harmony is, in itself, a genre-demolishing feat.

Lyrically, Final Light seethes with anger. "There was so much that I was so fucking pissed about," Johannes explains. "Some of my friends were dealing with a poisonous person: a narcissistic, crazy person. I was walking around full of anger and hate, so I think that came out in those lyrics."

The tandem's story began in 2019. Walter Hoeijmakers, the artistic director of the Netherlands' lauded Roadburn festival, approached James 'Perturbator' Kent with the opportunity of doing a commissioned piece with any musician of his choosing. As soon as the pair began work on their boundary-decimating songs, they knew that they had to be immortalised as an album.

"It was immediate," states Perturbator. "It's a project that I really want to share; it's not only the fruit of a collaboration between me and one of my favourite musicians, but also very unique and once-in-a-lifetime."
They wrote and recorded together in Paris before the start of the pandemic. Covid, which postponed the Roadburn festival at which the band would have debuted, gave them time to perfect what they'd crafted.
Johannes recorded additional vocals at Cult of Luna's resident studio in Umeå, Sweden, fully capturing the rage of his apocalyptically harsh voice.

Borders were built to be shattered. This is the sound of their destruction. Single-handedly, Final Light have birthed a new, bleak breed of experimental metal.

Und dies trifft 100% zu: kunstvoll vereinen BATTLE AXIS Thrash-Einflüsse mit starkem Power-Metal. Teils Doom-lastige Schwere und rockige Elemente. Wagemutig, atmosphärisch, teutonisch, BATTLE AXIS!

Der 23-jährige Londoner David Omoregie ist ein Ausnahmetalent. Unter dem Künstlernamen Dave legt
sich der britische Rapper in seinen Songs mit Premierminister:innen an, spricht über Rassismus, soziale Ungleichheit und das nicht universelle Erleben von Schwarzsein. Heute erscheint sein zweites Album ”We‘re
All Alone In This Together”, das laut der englischen GQ ”meist erwartete britische Rap-Nachfolgealbum
aller Zeiten”.
Das Cover zu ”We´re All Alone In This Together” ist eine Neuinterpretation von Claude Monets ”Impression, Soleil Levant”, ein Ölgemälde des französischen Malers aus dem Jahr 1872, das sich als namensgebend
für die Bewegung des Impressionismus herausstellen sollte. Auf den Albumtitel ”We´re All Alone In This
Together” brachte ihn der deutsche Filmkomponist Hans Zimmer während eines gemeinsamen Videochats.
Beide steuerten im letzten Jahr die Musik für eine Episode von Sir David Attenboroughs ”Planet Earth”
bei. Natürlich bezieht sich der Titel auch auf die vergangenen anderthalb Jahre während der Pandemie.
Musikalisch ist ”We´re All Alone In This Together” abwechslungsreich in Tempo und Inhalt, so rappt
Dave beschwingt mit Stormzy auf der ersten Single Auskoppelung ”Clash” über Konsum und was dieser
mit einem anstellt, holt sich für seinen nächsten Sommer Hit WizKid ins Boot. Weitere Features wie James
Blake, Boj & Snool Aalegra dürften auch nicht enttäuschen.
”We´re All Alone In This Together” könnte das wichtigste britische Musikalbum des Jahres werden.

Der 23-jährige Londoner David Omoregie ist ein Ausnahmetalent. Unter dem Künstlernamen Dave legt
sich der britische Rapper in seinen Songs mit Premierminister:innen an, spricht über Rassismus, soziale Ungleichheit und das nicht universelle Erleben von Schwarzsein. Heute erscheint sein zweites Album ”We‘re
All Alone In This Together”, das laut der englischen GQ ”meist erwartete britische Rap-Nachfolgealbum
aller Zeiten”.
Das Cover zu ”We´re All Alone In This Together” ist eine Neuinterpretation von Claude Monets ”Impression, Soleil Levant”, ein Ölgemälde des französischen Malers aus dem Jahr 1872, das sich als namensgebend
für die Bewegung des Impressionismus herausstellen sollte. Auf den Albumtitel ”We´re All Alone In This
Together” brachte ihn der deutsche Filmkomponist Hans Zimmer während eines gemeinsamen Videochats.
Beide steuerten im letzten Jahr die Musik für eine Episode von Sir David Attenboroughs ”Planet Earth”
bei. Natürlich bezieht sich der Titel auch auf die vergangenen anderthalb Jahre während der Pandemie.
Musikalisch ist ”We´re All Alone In This Together” abwechslungsreich in Tempo und Inhalt, so rappt
Dave beschwingt mit Stormzy auf der ersten Single Auskoppelung ”Clash” über Konsum und was dieser
mit einem anstellt, holt sich für seinen nächsten Sommer Hit WizKid ins Boot. Weitere Features wie James
Blake, Boj & Snool Aalegra dürften auch nicht enttäuschen.
”We´re All Alone In This Together” könnte das wichtigste britische Musikalbum des Jahres werden.

coloured 7" vinyl

coloured 7" vinyl

coloured 7" vinyl

‘4-Vesta’ is the brightest asteroid visible from Earth. Measuring around 500km in diameter, it’s one of the four largest objects in the asteroid belt between Jupiter and Mars. Fragments of Vesta have been found on Earth, as meteorites that were ejected into space after two collisions that left huge craters on its surface. These fragments show that Vesta was probably once a planet itself, made of the same material as the four terrestrial planets (Mercury, Venus, Earth and Mars).

It was an encounter with one of these fragments that inspired the name for Azu Tiwaline’s latest EP for I.O.T Records, ‘Vesta’, which features tracks that were written and recorded around the same time as ‘Magnetic Service’, her break-through EP for Livity Sound. Holding a piece of Vesta that had been found in the Saharan Desert - already a place of deep significance for her - she felt a sense of wonder, on a cosmic scale. In her hands, was an object so apparently familiar, of the same age and made of the same fundamental materials as the Earth on which she stood, yet from somewhere else entirely. A perfect name for the four tracks that make up ‘Vesta’. And also the perfect source material for the EP’s cover, an electron microscope image of a razor-thin slice of that same cosmic fragment that Azu held in her hand.

‘Vesta’ is familiar, yet distinct. It’s recognisably Azu Tiwaline from the very start, yet the unexpected always finds a way in. A booming, echoing kick opens ‘Low’, followed by the rattling, shivering sound of a tanbur hand-drum, courtesy of his regular collaborator, Franco-Iranian percussionist and producer Cinna Peyghamy. But then, tentatively at first, a jazzy synth line emerges, and disappears again, only to reappear later. An another colour to add to Azu Tiwaline’s already rich palette?

Azu Tiwaline’s music has always explored the dynamics between space and depth, and the contrasts between light and density. ‘Vesta’ often feels like a high-wire act, an exercise in finding space even as the air fills with drum patterns and synth lines. ‘Medium Time’ builds from a chorus of buzzing insects into a thick percussive track across eight minutes, without ever losing that initial wide-open sound of the dusk. ‘Into The Void’ pays homage to her well-worn collection of Rhythm & Sound and Basic Channel 12-inch singles, all swaying dub echoes and languid kick drums. Then mid-track, it pivots in intensity, each element suddenly expanded and magnified: a psychedelic shift. Those who’ve had the chance to see Azu Tiwaline perform in the past few years might get a few flashbacks - it’s been a key part of her live set.

But it’s the final track ‘Deep Theko’ that best fits the EP’s cosmic title. A shape-shifting ‘ambient’ track that never seems to settle, it drifts restlessly, sporadic percussion and synth washes injecting random bursts of activity. A sonic representation of planetary debris floating through space? Here, as with the airless void of space, emptiness enables a certain perspective. If the distances between the stars weren’t so enormous, we wouldn’t be able to gaze upon them in their entirety, after all.

After his contribution to the label’s 2nd Anniversary compilation, Justin K. Broadrick returns to KR3 with a 6-track solo EP as JK FLESH. One of the most legendary names in the British alternative music scene, with a career spanning three decades with various projects such as Godflesh, JK Flesh, Jesu, ZONAL and more, Broadrick has always been able to push the emotional boundaries that lie within us through sonic violence, and yet he strikes once again with this new release. VENEER OF TOLERANCE – is pure electronic power, brain-scratching metal techno. The album opens its dark doors with a rough intro; a driving speech that Justin himself proclaims to be a manifesto on the irregularity and unpredictability of life. From then onwards, the whole album assumes the appearance of a running horse. Heavy bass lines with raw resonances feel like an approaching earthquake… A brutal cerebral assault!

A.B. Crentsil is a heavyweight of Highlife music and the main vocalist of Sweet Talks, one of the most popular Ghanaian bands of the 1970’s. In 1992, musician Charles Amoah and producer Richie Osei Kuffour offered him the opportunity to explore a new popular sound: Bürger Highlife. Little did he know these studio sessions would give birth to the biggest song of his career.
Charles Amoah, who had released his Sweet Vibrations LP in 1984 to great acclaim, extensively toured in Europe with bands such as Black Earth and Saraba, was eager to bring a new sound to Crentsil, an artist he had admired for years. Throughout the 1980’s, Highlife had been changing pretty radically, following the same evolution as Congolese Soukous, Caribbean Zouk and most popular black music
genres of that era: Heavy use of drum machines, synths and digital technology was conveniently replacing big bands and expensive
analog studios and equipments. Mostly recorded, produced or mixed in Germany, this new breed of electric Highlife dubbed ‘Bürger Highlife’ could be defined as a fusion of Disco, Jazz, Funk and Pop with the popular Highlife beats, rhythms and lyrics.
According to A.B. Crentsil, the name was a reference to the ever present American cultural influence on Ghanaian musicians. Charles
Amoah has his own take: “I initially called this particular kind of Highlife ‘Ethno Pop’. Bürger is the German word for citizen, and that’s how Ghanaian musicians living and working in Germany were calling each other”.
The music for both “Obi Baa Wiase'' and “Sika Be Ba” was entirely composed and played by Charles Amoah, using minimal equipment: a
DX7 synth, a Korg M1, a Yamaha RX5 drum machine, and an Akai 1000 sampler. A.B. Crentsil provided the lyrics for both tunes on the spot. Obi Ba Wiase’s message is one of gratitude and faith: it says we should appreciate our life way more and follow the example of people who have a lot less but still praise God all day.
Charles remembers fondly Crentsil’s larger than life personality: "A.B. slept a lot, he really loved sleeping. His lack of punctuality was easily dismissed by his wonderful sense of humour and it wasn't uncommon to find musicians rolling with laughter on the studio floor."
Charles also remembers vividly the "Obi Baa Wiase" session: he could feel the magic in the air while working on the soon to be hit, and
knew something special was happening. A.B. asked for a break in the middle of the session, which Charles adamantly refused until the song was finished and the magic fully captured.
Success was not immediate, and Charles was first a little concerned by the lack of buzz following the immediate release of the Gyae Me
Life Ma Me album. But a few months down the line, the situation took a new turn. "Obi Baa Wiase" was making its way into radio playlists,
weddings and festive celebrations. It was covered by local bands, and soon most of Ghana and its European and American diasporas were hooked. It became A.B. Crentsil’s most requested song at live events for the following decades.
As producer Richie Moore wrote on the album back cover : "A perfect integration of two musical geniuses, the result of which are the
scintillating tracks of music on this record… so all you party fans go onto the floor and dance the body music"

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy on its wearer's shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. "A lot of it did feel like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length," says vocalist Charlie Drinkwater. "I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest." Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single "House of York" followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to Sub Pop for their debut album. When Uppers arrived in the height of a global pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its "dystopian doublespeak," but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the personal and professional landmark of its release felt "both colossal and minuscule" dampened by the inability to share it live. "It was a real gratification and really cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental health" admits Drinkwater. "I wasn't prepared, and I hadn't necessarily expected it to reach as many people as it did." As such, My Other People maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using "Saintless" (the closing song from Uppers) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health. "Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would say, particularly well," he says. "There was a lot of things that had happened to myself and my family that were quite troubling moments.Despite that I do think the record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in." "It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful," agrees Bueth. "Brutality and frustration are only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening." This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to My Other People, a record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you're welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

Second Sub Pop album by acclaimed UK act TV Priest finds them building on the
post-punk of their early material and maturing into a powerhouse of tense, politically
caustic, and thoughtful rock music.
Without a brutal evaluation of their own becoming, TV Priest might have never made
their second album. Heralded as the next big thing in post-punk, they were
established as a bolshy, sharp-witted outfit, the kind that starts movements with their
political ire. There was of course truth in that, but it was a suit that quickly felt heavy
on its wearer’s shoulders, leaving little room for true vulnerability. “A lot of it did feel
like I was being really careful and a bit at arm's length,” says vocalist Charlie
Drinkwater. “I think maybe I was not fully aware of the role I was taking. I had to take
a step back and realize that what we were presenting was quite far away from the
opinion of myself that I had. Now, I just want to be honest.”
Having made music together since their teenage years, the London four-piece piqued
press attention in late 2019 with their first gig as a newly solidified group, a raucous
outing in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. Debut single ‘House of York’
followed with a blistering critique of monarchist patriotism, and they were signed to
Sub Pop for their debut album. When ‘Uppers’ arrived in the height of a global
pandemic, it reaped praise from critics and fans alike for its “dystopian doublespeak,”
but the band - Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, producer, bass and keys player Nic
Bueth and drummer Ed Kelland - were at home like the rest of us, drinking cups of
tea and marking time via government-sanctioned daily exercise. As such, the
personal and professional landmark of its release felt “both colossal and minuscule”
dampened by the inability to share it live. “It was a real gratification and really
cathartic, but on the other hand, it was really strange, and not great for my mental
health,” admits Drinkwater. “I wasn’t prepared, and I hadn’t necessarily expected it to
reach as many people as it did.”
As such, ‘My Other People’ maintains a strong sense of earth-rooted emotion, taking
advantage of the opportunity to physically connect. Using ‘Saintless’ (the closing
song from ‘Uppers’) as something of a starting point, Drinkwater set about crafting
lyrics that allowed him to articulate a deeper sense of personal truth, using music as
a vessel to communicate with his bandmates about his depleting mental health.
“Speaking very candidly, it was written at a time and a place where I was not, I would
say, particularly well,” he says. “There was a lot of things that had happened to
myself and my family that were quite troubling moments. Despite that I do think the
record has our most hopeful moments too; a lot of me trying to set myself reminders
for living, just everyday sentiments to try and get myself out of the space I was in.”
“It was a bit of a moment for all of us where we realised that we can make something
that, to us at least, feels truly beautiful,” agrees Bueth. “Brutality and frustration are
only a part of that puzzle, and despite a lot of us feeling quite disconnected at the
time, overwhelmingly beautiful things were also still happening.”
This tension between existential fear born from the constant uncertainties of life, and
an affirmative, cathartic urge to seize the moment, is central to ‘My Other People’, a
record that heals by providing space for recognition, a ground zero in which you’re
welcome to stay awhile but which ultimately only leads up and out. For TV Priest, it is
a follow-up that feels truly, properly them; free of bravado, unnecessary bluster or
any audience pressure to commit solely to their original sound.

From the radioactive remains of a forgotten planet, a teknelektro trancemission from earth's crazy boy shawn cartier is recovered on an alien form of communication: "floppy disk".

Play with caution... in space no one can hear the rave.

Driven by Max Cavalera's unrelenting energy, unmistakable growl, and instantly recognizable riffage, the earthy tones and motivational rhythmic bounce of Soulfly maintain a gritty spiritual heart while pushing the boundaries of what's possible in metal. Nowhere is that more apparent than on the four triumphant, redemptive, and crucial eclectic offerings presented in this brand new box set, celebrating the first six years of the band career.

Soulfly (1998) was a riotously heavy escalation of the innovation established on Max's final album with Sepultura, launching a brand-new era. Primitive (2000) and 3 (2002) stomp with tribal groove; Prophecy (2004) is as unsettling but evocative as the tombs of the martyrs across Europe. Max introduced metalheads to the berimbau. His music is brutal yet unapologetically transcendent punk-infused extremity. To commune with the burning muse of metal's shamanistic tribal leader is to envelop oneself inside a post-modern sonic sweat lodge. Brutal riffs, trippy esoteric ritual, unrelenting percussion, primal screams; no matter what Cavalera hammers out on his four-string guitar, it always sets souls free.

Propulsive tabla percussion and meditative drones collide in deep instrumental conversation on Shruti Dances, the debut collaborative album between UK heavyweights Auntie Flo and Sarathy Korwar, forthcoming on the newly relaunched, Make Music imprint.

Across six exchanges of dynamic electronic production and richly layered Indian classical percussion, Shruti Dances discovers two architects of rhythm and movement on an explorative journey through South Asian tonality and diasporic identity.

One an elemental force on drums, the other on the decks, London-based, Indian-raised drummer/composer, Sarathy Korwar and Scottish-Goan producer/DJ, Auntie Flo first connected back in 2019, unaware both were navigating opposite ends of the beat equilibrium. Where Auntie Flo (aka Brian D’Souza) was new to Korwar’s reimagining of jazz, Indian classical music, electronics and spoken word, Korwar was already a big admirer of Auntie Flo’s intl-facing club output, having first discovered D’Souza’s Rainfall On Red Earth off his Soniferous Garden 12” and 2019 SAY award-winning (Scottish Album of The Year), Radio Highlife. Once properly acquainted, Korwar invited Auntie Flo to remix a track off his landmark 2019 album, More Arriving, described by The Guardian as “a stylistic leap from jazz to hip-hop to spoken word…a protest record encompassing the breadth of immigrant experiences”.

The seeds of an unlikely yet powerful musical bond had been sown and when mutual friend, co-founder of Mixcloud, and Make Music label organiser, Nikhil Shah, asked the duo to inaugurate the label’s new live/electronic direction (previously home to Leon Vynehall, U and George Fitzgerald), Korwar and D’Souza hit the studio. Expanding on early conversations around traditional Indian instrumentation, practicing meditation and improvisation, Shruti Dances (a riff on free dance movement, Ecstatic Dance) was born. Meaning 'that which is heard' in Sanskrit, shruti refers to a note in musical terms, but in this case also references the album’s most prominent influence and instrument, the shruti box.

“The shruti box formed the basis of the sound of the project. It’s a drone instrument, similar to a harmonium, and it makes an amazing sound. I’ve spent the last two years studying sound therapy, and immersing myself in ambient and drone through the Ambient Flo project, and am particularly interested in how they can induce meditative states of consciousness. I was really excited to hear what the Shruti box could do with this EP.” Auntie Flo

Across six tracks, (each named after 6 of the 7 main musical notes in the Indian solfege system), Shruti Dances draws on a celestial mix of traditional percussion and processed digital effects. On opening track Dha, Korwar’s sparse tabla rhythms hop across D’Souza’s scattered, arpeggiated synths, where as on Pa, a Balearic shuffle channels Moroccan Gnawa music and Senegalese sabar meets Mark Ernestus’s Ndagga Rhythm Force. Harmonic speed tabla and roaming drones provide a sense of the ethereal and fourth-worldly on Ma, a track that’s resplendent, curious atmosphere would fit snug into the deep listening-focused programming of Auntie Flo’s Ambient Flo online radio station, a curatorial platform and avenue exploring his interest/promotion of mental health, launched over the UK’s first lockdown. Ni sees Korwar pick up the sticks, thrashing toms in a spirited frenzy, whilst downtempo album closer Sa offers some room for reflection, its slow, swirling chords cloud our focus, leaving us with all but the distant sound of birdsong.

A totally obscure release from Youngstown, Ohio's Tony Lavorgna and his late 70's early 1980's band: The St. Thomas Quartet. Like many private press album's it's an ad for their set list, recorded on the cusp of cassettes and definitely pre-cd so strictly vinyl it is. A mixed bag of tunes and influences but two of the tunes absolutely leap into your ears.

A Hammond led Soul Jazz version of Herbie Hancock's "Chameleon" at nearly ten minutes that seems to just get more drivingly funky and intense and David Thomas on the B3 is absolutely inspired on this monster of a track. It makes you wonder why on earth more Hammond players didn't make a feature of this tune?

The other inspired choice is War's "The World Is A Ghetto" which just has to be one of the funkiest versions of this much covered tune. Some soulful sax from leader Lavorgna signposts the way for the rest of the bands soulful and jazzy contributions with again Hammond man David Thomas underpinning with his funk drenched riffs.

Tony Lavorgna is a one off too, his life story is available in Comic Book form under the title "Bebopman" by American Splendor writer Harvey Pekar.

Certain Sound Records and DJ Jazz T announce the second in a series of DJ mixtapes from the World-Famous Steel Devils Turntablist Crew.

When he is not touring the world with Jehst or High Focus Records artists or running his own legendary label Boot Records. You will find Jazz T laying down cuts or mastering some of the UK’s finest hip hop releases. So, it was an honour that he wanted to drop a brand-new mixtape for us. Spurred on by his counterparts in the Steel Devil’s crew, Jazz put together this outstanding collection of rarely or never heard beats and collaborations and distilled it into 60 mins of mixtape glory. The track listing says it all.

We welcome back Stockholm house stalwart Viggo Dyst for his second contribution to our Classic Cuts series: an uplifting cut of five melodic tracks, including a remix from SNF mainstay, Earth Trax.

Tech-house banger 'These Knits' kicks off proceedings, with cosmic undertones that imbue it with a sense of buoyancy and playfulness. On the flip, Earth Trax teases out the track's cooler elements, introducing a more definitive pulse and replacing the melody's warmth with a greater sense of unease: catch this one reverberating around a cavernous warehouse. 'Promises' maintains the driving propulsion, introducing an acid melody which lends it anthemic grandeur before the sultry whisper of cymbals and female vocals on the modest deep house track 'CAT' strip things right back. Finally, the ambient closer 'Bubble Wrap' pays testament to Viggo Dyst's musical ambidexterity and his capacity for creating atmosphere with a full-bodied soundscape and rich tonal depth.

These Knits EP drops 10th June 2022 via Shall Not Fade

Prometheus is the 2012 science fiction horror film directed by Ridley Scott, written by Jon Spaihts and Damon Lindelof and starring Noomi Rapace, Michael Fassbender, Guy Pearce, Idris Elba, Logan Marshall-Green and Charlize Theron. It is set in the late 21st century and centers on the crew of the spaceship Prometheus as it follows a star map discovered among the artifacts of several ancient Earth cultures. Seeking the origins of humanity, the crew arrives on a distant world and discovers a threat that could cause the extinction of the human species.

Marc Streitenfeld is a German composer. He has frequently collaborated with director Ridley Scott. Streitenfeld has composed the music for many high-profile Hollywood features as well as critically acclaimed independent films, including American Gangster, Body of Lies, The Grey, Poltergeist and All I See Is You.

Prometheus became the fifth collaboration between the composer and the director. The score was recorded over one week with a 90-piece orchestra at Abbey Road Studios. Streitenfeld began coming up with ideas for the score after reading the script prior to the commencement of filming. To create an “unsettling” sound, he provided the orchestra with reversed music sheets to have them play segments of the score backwards, before then digitally reversing it. The track “Friend from the Past” reprises Jerry Goldsmith’s original main title from the Alien soundtrack.