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Loyle Carner has Mercury and Brits nominations, NME Awards, global brand campaigns, and 2 top #3 albums! After performing at a SOLD-OUT Royal Albert Hall on his 29th birthday, the multi-talented artist is looking to make history once again with this release.

Loyle Carner has been announced as a headliner for 2024’s All Points East. His only London live date for 2024 and his biggest yet, he’ll be playing on Saturday 17 August, joined by special guests including Nas, André 3000, Lianne La Havas, Ezra Collective and Flying Lotus across the East, West and North stages that Carner himself has curated.

"Du reitest über die Zwickauer Hügel nach Nordosten. Die Lederzügel schneiden sich in deine gefrorenen Hände, während sich heiss-saurer Sod nach oben brennt. Metaphysischer Katerschweiss sticht sich Pore für Pore durch deine Haut, durch ein verblasstes Sargtattoo auf dem Unterarm. Die müden Füße in den NVA-Stiefeln deines Vaters umklammern die Flanken eines dampfenden, grauen Appaloosa, oder ist es doch nur die frisierte Simson S51? Egal, denn eigentlich ist es deine ur-eigene Mind-Machine, in der du dem Ruf der Leere folgend durch die Ruinen der Selbsterkenntnis irrst. Nach Chemnitz - dem San Francisco des ganz kleinen Mannes. Erwarten wird dich dort allerdings nicht Bernd Spier's einfältige Flowertime, sondern Asbest, Eternit und vor allem die Risse, die sich durch ebendiesen ziehen. Genau da verdichten sich die Songs auf L'Appel du Vide's erstem Full-Length "Metro" jedem Leerstand trotzend zu einem 9 Stories hohen Monolithen aus Post-Punk, Death-Rock, Synth- und Darkwave, der einen - einmal erklommen - über jene Genregrenzen hinwegschauen lässt. Ein schwarz-schimmernder Jengaturm aus (East-)German Angst und kompromissloser Innenschau. So viel aufrichtiger wankend, als ein Campino im einstudierten Seitwärts-Taumeltanz der Mitte der Gesellschaft weismachen will, führt er dich weg von den tief hängenden Früchten des epigonalen (Post-)Punkswindles. Hin zu den aufgehenden Blüten echter Musikliebhaberei. Man hat sich festgebissen und ist drangeblieben, hat geschürft und sortiert, die Linernotes gelesen und vor allem eins: den vielen Platten zugehört. Die Schubladen aufgemacht und offen gelassen. Sänger René klagt sich ohne Allüren, zeigefingerfrei und immun gegen jedes Zeitgeistgeheische ins zunächst eigene Herz. Die Gitarre sägt, klirrt und kreischt vor Hunger und ist doch satt. Die Rhythm-Section knurrt und scheppert und bumst sich geradeaus in den Abyss, aus dem auch analoge Synths hier und da auftauchen um kurz Luft zu schnappen. Überhaupt kann man die Instrumente atmen hören, so ehrlich ist der Sound. Gitarrist Flatty hat die Band Anfang 2023 im Studio Gloom, Chemnitz aufgenommen. Doch da ist nicht nur Sachsen und die zu oft beschworenen, modrigen Wurzeln der Hängengebliebenen. Da ist Detroit, Frisco und Los Angeles. Manchester, New York und Portland. Und genau so wie Poison Idea's "Feel the Darkness" (um dann doch mal eine Reminiszenz zu bemühen) beginnt, endet "Metro" nach 37 Minuten Spielzeit - mit nacktem Piano. Dazwischen: eine Verwandtschaft in Wucht und Haltung, nur ohne Metal- und Gepose. Just Power and Void. Und in der Satteltasche ein altes Foto vom Meer, körnig, schwarz weiss und doch alle Farben widerspiegelnd.

CLUB OF PROBLEMS ist eine ganz neue Band aus Freiburg im Breisgau - die vier Typen dagegen sind längst erfahrene Hasen auf dem Gitarrenpop-Dancefloor. Jeremy James, Purple Reinhard, John Pelzer, Jackson Bollock - man kennt sie u.a. von Gringo Mayer, Prisoners Of Freedom, The Seducers, Serial Off, Neo Rodeo, Backslide, BAR, Virage Dangereux, Nicolas Sturm, Jimi Satans Schuhshop, Achtung Rakete, The Hojos, Institute Of Modern Melancholy. Außerdem: Unbedingt "Öffentliche Telefonbuchlesung" antesten.. Endlich bringen sie für ein gemeinsames Debütalbum all ihre Qualitäten zusammen: Melancholisch und schwer, dabei tanzy und mindestens so beknackt wie diese Zeit. Zwischen Pop, Folk, RnR und Punkrockbasis, zwischen Irrsinn, Unsinn und Sinnlichkeit. 11 Songs, die unsere alltägliche Gegenwart demontieren und als absurd ohrenschmeichelnde Stücke neu zusammensetzen. As big as it get"s!

Born in 1977, in Malang, East Java, Wukir Suryadi began playing music for theatre at the age of 12 with the Idiot The-ater Studio, and later with the Rendra Theater Workshop. In his solo work, and as a member of Senyawa, Error Scream, Bendera Hitam Setengah, Potro Joyo and other groups, Wukir breaks the boundaries of traditional music, death metal and avant-garde performance. On this new release, “Cycle and Prayer,” recorded in 2023, he expands the edges of his unique artistic world further, by digging in to meditative improvisation, art, and community building in his home workshop in the mountains of central Java. These recordings vibrate inwards, toward the microcosmic ecologies of forests and rivers; they distort outwards, resonating with global waves of apocalyptic change that are forcing all living beings to the edges of existence on earth. The result is a meditative poem that moves, as its titles an-nounce, from phenomena to phenomena, praying that humans find a way out from the depths of the depths to the light that illuminates the soul.
An essential mode of creative work for Wukir is the creation of unique instruments, using these sound sources as “bullets of expression.” In addition to the spear-like tube zither Bambu Wukir, he has created the Solet, Enthong, Garu, Luku, Arrows, and Industrial Mutant instruments, which in addition to being used in live performance, have been exhibited in the Instrument Builders Project and the 2017 Jakarta Biennale. In the past few years, Wukir has begun to collaborate with local guitar makers, carpenters, and suppliers of native endemic wood in the mountain region of Salatiga. Using earthen bricks along with local woods (suren, coconut, mindi, and waru lengis) as building materials, he constructed a new studio and workshop space in Tingkir, where this album was made. The trees, water and air of the local environment have exerted a powerful influence in Wukir’s documentations of instrumental sound. On this recording, he uses the simple Cetta guitar, an instrument designed in Bali and made for Indonesian children and local communities of folk and popular musicians, in order to explore the different sonic characteristics of a more “normal” instrument built from local wood.
The themes of the album -- cycle and prayer -- arise from a foreboding series of meta-events that shook Indonesia and the world over the past years, following one after the other: the COVID-19 pandemic, the Ukrainian-Russian war, the Kanjuruhan Stadium tragedy in which football supporters were gassed and killed by police, revelations of govern-ment failures and corruption, the rise of personal vehicles, the increasing disturbance of natural patterns of the rainy season and other ecological cycles. “In these waves of technology and narratives of truth made for certain interests, playing a sound at a certain frequency and repeating can try to bring images and feelings to a certain point of con-sciousness,” Wukir told me. “Sound is a prayer that creates a change, whether gradual or rapid, in the behaviour of living things, to face the demands of the time, as humans struggle to live according to what they believe.” The draw-ings and sketches used for the cover spontaneously emerged alongside the recordings, as an instinctive depiction of “time and sound, nature that is outside of oneself, and nature that is within.”

Stuck in the depths of a dark alley, blocked by yet another breeze, hitting a stone wall, road sign ahead: Dead End.
Impasse. "Cul-de-sac".
Hip‐hop. The original, some would say, official music of the late 20th Century Bronx.
Some say it has endured it's fair share of distractions, detractors and defectors. Some say it has murdered itself, having been abandoned by its so‐called best men, those who have gone off in other directions, or who have, simply, just beat‐retired. Yet, there are plenty of Soldier Monks still out there, prepared to sweat it out in the Temple of Machinery and Mics.
Low Cut honored this cause four years ago, with his MPC crafted minimalist version of NY Minute and he's back to ring the bells and unsheathe the samples!

The starting point of Dead End's production remains the 90's boom-bap, but the will to carry it even further brings it to its destination. By decorating it with rich samples flushed out after digging through vinyls pressed several decades ago, it is guided by a compass pointing deposits to the East. With sound quality inherited from a fastidious composition and mix works, using inspiration rather than just being a copycat, Dead End celebrates it without setting it up as a museum piece.

Picturing the beatmaker stuck in the depths of a dark alley, ended with a brick wall, is easy. But far from isolated in his Parisian basement, Low Cut has rung phones in New York, Baltimore and Detroit, rounding up the faithful. He magnetized the hidden but sharp forces, and gained attendance of legends. The casting of Dead End : Ruste Juxx & Nutso, Dirt Platoon, Guilty Simpson, Torae, Rasheed Chappell and the stainless Masta Ace, among other beat crushers. Also starring DJ Duke, Nix'on, Topic and Ordoeuvre with their DMC titles crates, for a deep beatfight on bars scarified of scratches.
Heavy atmosphere, martial beats and street soul, Dead End is also the final episode of the projects initiated by Low Cut, based on the model of a producer inviting various MCs.
He will then replace his turntable needles, refresh his sample banks, and settle the BPMs of his productions on more abstract frequencies.

“Great Doubt” is the third full length LP by Danish composer Astrid Sonne. Throughout her acclaimed discography, Astrid Sonne has been carefully crafting different moods through electronic and acoustic instrumental endeavours. On “Great Doubt” this skill is refined, now with the distinct addition of the composer's own vocal in front. The tone of each track is unmistakably Sonne’s, structured around contrasts through an impeccable sense of timing. Lyrics on the album are sparse, merely highlighting different scenes or emotional states of being, leaving the music to fill in the blanks. Yet they also form a pattern of ambiguity, consolidated through the album title, searching for answers through looking at how and what you are asking, questions for the world, questions of love. The viola, a trusted companion since Astrid Sonne’s youth, appears effortlessly throughout the album, fully integrated into the sonic universe; through a pizzicato driven arrangement in the poignant track “Almost” or along with booms and claps in mutated cinematic stabs during “Give my all”, paraphrasing Mariah Carey's 1997 ballad. Yet the string section also gives way to explorations of woodwinds, counterbalancing the bowed movements with digital brass and airy flutes. Finally, beats and detuned piano are fresh additions to the soundscape, cementing how Sonne’s practice is always evolving into new territories. In fall 2022, Astrid Sonne relocated from Copenhagen with its peers of artists such as ML Buch, Erika de Casier and Smerz, to live in London, where musicians of the South-East London scene like Coby Sey, Lolina, Still House Plants and Mica Levi provide a new inspirational framework. “Great Doubt” bears witness to both of those geographical locations, yet finds itself in its own unique space, in many ways due to the presence of Sonne's voice throughout. A voice that has always been present in her work, but never fully explored as a solo instrument before now. Astrid Sonne elaborates on the wish to work more in depth with the voice: “I come from a tradition of choir singing where I’ve used my voice as a way of creating unity with other voices. I’ve disciplined my voice in a certain way and this album is an exploration of me trying to find my own voice as an instrument, as a communicator, as a new way of being honest.” Questions take up a central role throughout the album. The doubt is both a blessing and a curse, always lying in-between, acting as both what holds back and drives forward. A metamorphosis not going anywhere. The great doubt takes place in a space of courage, chances, love, loss, gifts and surprises. Genre: Electronic / Experimental

tapetopia 006 In 1983, some more subdued sounds began to waft from the GDR punk underground into the second half of the ’80s. At five to the end of time, it was perpetually striking midnight and the occasional punk band would mix a little laudanum into their potential for aggression. Portents in this vein preceded a dark wave whose foamy crest would break on fog walls of dry ice. Especially in Leipzig and East Berlin, a chain-rattling zeitgeist produced bands that drew from a dark well. Many of these bands arose from the still hot or already cold ashes of punk. The two founding fathers of Neuntage Alt, René Glofke and Taymur Streng (nicknamed “Strangler”), knew each other from the East Berlin punk scene. The third man aboard, Mike Sauer, played drums in the early 1980s for Sendeschluß, a punk band that, lost in thought somewhere in the no-man’s land between punk and post-punk, faded away in 1984. Punk was no longer the order of the day, but it was a form of expression among many and easy to combine. Glofke and Streng found common ground in experimental set-ups with such otherworldly names as Medusa Brahma or Die zeitweilige Erscheinung.
From this far-flung point of departure, a short tunnel led straight into the black light of Neuntage Alt, the coldest star in the low-hanging sky above East Berlin. Neuntage Alt appeared at the end of 1986, during the last blackout phase of the GDR, on the threshold between the underground and the so-called “other bands” – a scene that used the non-socio-critical approach of German Wutwave (“anger wave”) in order to be allowed to perform publicly. In the context of this scene, Neuntage Alt did not belong to the inner circle. Moreover, the band’s subcultural base was initially in Mahlsdorf, on the south-eastern edge of East Berlin. This was where the DIY sound studio of amplitude apostle and great modulator Taymur Streng was situated. Strangler held the position of house electrician and keyboard god in various projects. One of them had the bland alias Mahlsdorfer Wohnstuben Orchester, behind which the avant-garde court chapel of the bungalow studio was concealed. There Taymur also conspired with the East Berlin underground band Ornament & Verbrechen (tapetopia #001). Ronald Lippok of Ornament & Verbrechen remembers how once, at the opening of a joint session, he and his brother Robert attended Taymur’s engaging slide show of his collection of test patterns. Afterwards, they created a piece with the psychedelic title “Das sentimentale UfO”, which sheds an iridescent light on the bizarre atmosphere in the studio. Taymur’s obsession with technology was legendary. The home studio was also his living space; a circuit, a machine park of screwed and soldered equipment, a single keyboard orgy. His own creations were also based on circuit diagrams found in the radio amateur magazine “Funkamateur”. Its somewhat clueless subtitle “Praktische Elektronik Für Alle” (Practical Electronics for All)

Recorded by award-winning mastering engineer Kevin Gray's record label, Anthony Wilson's Hackensack West is Cohearent Records' follow-up to Kirsten Edkins' Shapes & Sound album. Produced by Joe Harley and recorded all-analogue/all-tube at Gray's studio, Cohearent Recording, the AAA vinyl release is pressed on 180-gram vinyl at RTI and housed in a deluxe tip-on gatefold jacket.

From the liner notes:

The week before these sessions in the summer of 2023, I sat down each morning with the goal of composing one new song by day's end. I knew I'd soon be in the room with my dear friends Gerald Clayton, John Clayton, and Jeff Hamilton, three musicians whom I trust the most, and with whom I've played the most over the last couple of decades. I tried to imagine themes that would feel natural to us, the kinds of songs we could simply dive into without much thinking. When we headed to Kevin Gray's studio to record, I brought seven new songs along with me. Five are included on this album.

"Daido" is dedicated to Japanese photographer Daido Moriyama, who became known in the late 1960s for his grainy, sometimes blurry, high-contrast black and white images made throughout Japan. I love his pictures taken on the streets of various Tokyo neighbourhoods such as Shinjuku. His portrait of a menacing stray dong, from his series "A Hunter," is the kind of picture that, seen just once, is unforgettable. These days Daido is still out on the street making pictures, at the ripe young age of 85.

"Verdesse" has a sinuous, chorinho-like melody and rhythmic feel. The tune seems to weave and bob playfully in a space of brightness the way a grapevine seems to curl towards the sunlight. So I named it after a wine grape native to the pre-Alpine region of Isère, near Grenoble in eastern France, that makes a particularly delicious and drinkable white wine.

I wrote "Sunday," well...on Sunday. It unfolds slowly, like a good Sunday does when there's nothing to do, you can sleep in, you've got your person beside you, and you just relax into the day.

"The Lands" is dedicated to a family very dear to my heart: that of tenor saxophonist Harold Land. My mother met Harold when they were both teenagers growing up in San Diego, California. The two of them became lifelong friends, and a little later, Harold enjoyed a fruitful musical association and close friendship with my father, Gerald Wilson. Harold, his lovely wife Lydia, and their son Harold Jr. were extended family for us; they looked after me with love and care. Some of my first gigs ever as a young guitarist were with Harold's incredible band that included Oscar Brashear, Billy Higgins, Richard Reid, and Harold Land Jr.

I've loved Todd Rundgren's "Marlene" since I first heard it on his epic double-album Something/Anything. With its tender, well-contoured melody buoyed by a few special harmonic surprises, it almost seems like something from the pen of Burt Bacharach. It tells such a complete musical story. Rundgren's recorded version has a beautiful endlessly repeating tag. So we played the melody simply, and used the tag as a small staging area for a bit of improvising.

Hackensack West is our alias for engineer Kevin Gray's studio Cohearent Recording, a place inspired by Rudy Van Gelder's first studio in Hackensack, New Jersey. Located inside Van Gelder's parents' home, the musicians played in the living room! It was there, in 1954, that Thelonious Monk recorded his classic tune "Hackensack," a "contrafact" melody over the chord changes to the Gershwins' "Oh, Lady Be Good!" In contrafact-like fashion, my own bebop-spirited melody "Hackensack West" seems to nod toward the changes of a few recognizable standards, without corresponding to any particular one.

Vladimir Sivc (Funky Destination a.k.a. Mr. Louie) was born on August 19, 1979 in Osijek (eastern Croatia). With dedication to the retro sound of pure funky instinct, he set out to create a wild and groovy sound with this project. Louie took his first step into the world of music by taking guitar lessons. Later he devoted himself to rock singing and playing rhythm guitar.

At the end of the 90s the move from the eastern part to the western coast of Croatia (on the Adriatic Sea). The encounter with the turntable makes him experiment working as a DJ.

Subsequently he begins to produce his own music, traveling through various styles, using house and tribal elements trying to avoid artificial sound processing as much as possible. By using live instruments, the sound remains fresh and alive, resulting in a musical product whose vibrations contain an indestructible power of movement.

He has collaborated with several European labels including IRMA Records, Timewarp Music and Sound Exhibition Records.

In this single we find two of his most famous songs in remix version: Take It Down by LTJ Xperience and Mr. Bong by himself under his pseudonym Louie. Plus the original versions of Take It Down and another of his classics Praise Me Now. While compiling these notes and preparing the release of the single for distribution, we received the terrible news of his sudden passing at just 44 years old. We are completely shocked by this news and we plan to honor him in any case by publishing this EP to which he was very attached.

FRN Dancehall might have emerged in Jamaica, but over the last few decades the popular genre's tendrils have stretched out across the globe. In Kampala, Ratigan Era is adding a distinct Ugandan twist to dancehall, fusing it with East African humor and hyper-melodic afrobeats elements imported from Ghana and Nigeria. The versatile MC grew up listening to Jamaican music like Vybz Kartel, Busy Signal and Mavado - in his hometown of Kawempe there was almost no way to avoid it - and it blurred into the background, blending with local church music, US hip-hop and radio pop. He developed this diverse range of influences into a completely unique Afro-dancehall flow that simmers between Luganda, patois, Spanish and English, reflecting the melting pot of cultures and dialects that characterizes contemporary Africa. Ratigan broke out with a memorable feature on Pallaso's Ugandan hit 'Nsaba', a track that echoed throughout the country booming from nightclubs, motorcycle loudspeakers or from convenience stores. Now he's assembled his first album "Era", a furiously inventive interweaving of rubbery vocals and memorable chants backed by futuristic beats from Hakuna Kulala's most boundary-pushing producers. Congolese producer Chrisman takes the reins on 'Gorilla Attack', providing a downtempo groove that echoes recent Jamaican chop deployments from breakthrough artists like Skillibeng and Skeng. For his part, Ratigan ducks and dives between Chrisman's gqom-inspired low end womps and corrosive synths, commanding attention with his smart, dextrous flow and tongue-twisting lyrics.The Modern Institute and Golden Teacher's Richard McMaster handles 'Top Strike Force' leaving space in his wiry, minimal beats for Ratigan to flit between anthemic repetitions and ice-cold AutoTuned wails. On stand-out track 'Badman Style', Ratigan's guttural patois is measured against a dizzy trap-dancehall hybrid beat from HHY & The Kampala Unit's Jonathan Uliel Saldanha, aka Lithium Beats, while on the surreal 'Drop it Down', Japanese mad scientist Scotch Rolex brings out Ratigan's cheeky sense of humor with toytown bleeps and laser zaps. MC Yallah collaborator Debmaster appears on 'Gan Dem', meeting Ratigan's double-time raps with soundsystem destroying rolling subs, and veteran US noisemaker Kush Aurora sprinkles magic dust on 'Cool and Deadly', galvanizing the link between global bass mutations, Jamaica and East Africa.And despite the grab-bag of producers and inspirations, "Ratigan" is a strikingly coherent listening experience that accurately snapshots Kampala's colorful froth of sounds and phrases. Ratigan's outsized personality is welcoming and captivating, providing the sights, sounds and smells of the city with a frenetic rhythm that's as intimate and local as it is far-reaching. It might just be the future we so desperately need.

Repress!

Presenting a collection of deep spatial gems mined from the ever impressive TK Disco vaults for your playback listening pleasure!

The TK Disco music empire has blessed our ears and minds with an endless stream of music since it's late 1960's inception. Countless soul and funk sides were produced, cut and released by label founder Henry Stone and his associates, in turn changing the face of contemporary black music in the USA and across the world forever. It is true that the TK story originated on America's 'Space Coast', the modern frontier of lunar exploration and galactic travel, the home of NASA and countless missions beyond the stars nestled on the East Coast of the United States.

'Moon Ride' - The compilation you hold in your hands, is merely one strand of the incredible music that was beamed out of Hialeah, FL over the decades. The focus on this collection is the idea of the 'cosmic' from the Disco era. These are records that emit a spacey vibe, either from their lyrical content or equally from their sonic qualities, imbibing synths and electronics to create otherworldly grooves. These records were big hits on underground music scenes such as Daniele Baldelli's cosmic movement in the 70's and 80's in Lake Garda, they were vehicles of escapism and hedonism on the discerning dancefloors of NYC in the hands of progressive DJs like David Mancuso and Nicky Siano and they were also essential building blocks in the creation of House and Techno music in the Midwestern cities of Chicago and Detroit, inspiring legendary artists such as Mr Fingers and Jeff Mills and countless others. An essential collection of music for listening, dancing, loving and travelling!

TK Disco's influence is still felt today and this carefully curated selection of tracks showcases some absolute classics, overlooked nuggets and rarities from the label's huge output. Mastered with love by Optimum Mastering, Bristol UK. Brought to you by TK Disco / Henry Stone Music & Above Board Distribution 2021.

Endlich wieder ein Lebenszeichen der legendären Indie-Rock-Band Grandaddy aus Kalifornien. Im Februar 2024 wird ihr brandneues Studioalbum „Blu
Wav“ via Dangerbird Records erscheinen. Kürzlich feierten Grandaddy ihr Schaffen mit einer Reihe von Wiederveröffentlichungen zum 20-jährigen
Bestehen, darunter das hochgelobte Sumday Twunny-Boxset, das von Pitchfork als „Best New Reissue“ ausgezeichnet wurde. Auf Wunsch der Familie
seines Freundes und Psychedelic-Pop-Kollegen Mark Linkous steuerte Lytle auch Gesang zu einem posthumen Sparklehorse-Album bei. Grandaddy
haben fünf offizielle LPs veröffentlicht, zuletzt 2017 das Album „Last Place“. Zu den Mitgliedern von Grandaddy gehören Jason Lytle, Aaron Burtch,
Jim Fairchild, Tim Dryden und der 2017 verstorbene Kevin Garcia.

Soft Walls is the solo recording project of Dan Reeves, who has spent his entire adult life kicking around in the dust of the UK's underground music scenes. Cutting his teeth in the South West's post-hardcore scene; centred around Exeter's The Cavern club, before moving to the South East and forming his own record label; Faux Discx, and the propulsive post-punk band: Brighton via London's Cold Pumas. Projects have come and gone over the years, but Reeves' Soft Walls has remained, an outlet for whatever musical whim takes his fancy.

'True Love' is Soft Walls' 4th album. Written and recorded at home, during breaks in work. During the aftermath of you-know-what.

For this album Dan leaned heavily in to his guitar playing, searching for those purest moments of true emotion and connection. Aiming to strike an instant blow. "Emotional guitar music. But not Emo." The result of falling in love with an instrument again and playing for the joy of it, much like he did as a teenager. Just older, wiser(?) and certainly more world-weary / teary-eyed.

Thematically, 'True Love' revels in stating its love for everything that is dear to Reeves. Odes to marriage, romance, unconditional love, parenthood and creativity pierce through the record's down-swings that tackle existential crisis and the feeling of falling in to depression. Each song attempts to encapsulate a vivid feeling, be it positive or negative. It's all part of a life worth living.

Although recorded at home, this album marks a leap in to digital mid-fidelity for Soft Walls, embracing a wider, richer sound beyond the tape hiss of earlier releases. That same spirt is still in the mix, but is presented wide-eyed and caffeinated in to clarity. Elevated by the input of a handful of collaborators contributing to the performances and helping to shape it sonically, 'True Love' ends up being the truest version of Soft Walls committed to (digital) tape thus far.

. First edition on vinyl, remastered tracks and new artwork along with a 12“ size insert, 2x12“ size poster, sticker and DL-Card. Vocalist Chaka Malik and guitarist Chris Traynor met in the New York hardcore band Burn and began playing together as early as 1992. With an early version of Orange 9mm, the duo released a live EP in 1993. The recording earned the band a contract with East West, and after picking up bassist David Gentile and drummer Matthew Cross, Orange 9mm began recording. Driver Not Included was released in 1994, and the band spent time touring with Helmet before signing with Atlantic the following year. Gentile left later in 1995 and was replaced by Taylor McLam just after recording ended for Tragic, with production by Barkmarket's David Sardy. Tragic was released in 1996; it would be three years before Orange 9mm issued a follow-up, which bore the title of Pretend I'm Human

Comprising accomplished musicians Roy Bar-Tour, Atzmon Avrahami and Adam Yodfat, Les Dynamites built themselves a strong following for their fresh blend of Mediterranean and classic surf rock with Balkan and Yemini folk, catching the attention of Middle Eastern groove connoisseurs Batov Record. Their debut single for the label, “Pop Oud #2”, packed enough punch, and funk, for both psych fans and break dancers. Backed by a dubwise flip by digging pioneers Radio Trip, it received support from the likes of Juno, Monolith Cocktail and Worldwide FM.

“Uzi Kinrot” takes its name from guitarists Uri Kinrot and Uzi Feinerman of Boom Pam, pioneers of today’s resurgence in Middle Eastern surf rock. Ray Bar-Tour riffs like a Klezmer-playing Dick Dale over a Balkan sousaphone bass lines and snappy drum rhythms. Towards the end, Yemen Yehudith adds a special touch of traditional wailing, raising the excitement by another notch.

Recorded, co-arranged, produced, mixed and mastered by Uri “MixMonster” Wertheim of famed funk band, The Apples, and obscure sample scientists, RadioTrip. On “Uzi Kinrot” and “Sea Gull”, the group pay tribute to the Mediterranean surf heroes who inspired them most. They continue from where the seventies funk leaning “Pop Oud #2” left off, going deeper, and reuniting the classic Mediterranean and American surf sounds with a fresh perspective, destined to earn themselves an even greater following.

Endlich wieder ein Lebenszeichen der legendären Indie-Rock-Band Grandaddy aus Kalifornien. Im Februar 2024 wird ihr brandneues Studioalbum „Blu
Wav“ via Dangerbird Records erscheinen. Kürzlich feierten Grandaddy ihr Schaffen mit einer Reihe von Wiederveröffentlichungen zum 20-jährigen
Bestehen, darunter das hochgelobte Sumday Twunny-Boxset, das von Pitchfork als „Best New Reissue“ ausgezeichnet wurde. Auf Wunsch der Familie
seines Freundes und Psychedelic-Pop-Kollegen Mark Linkous steuerte Lytle auch Gesang zu einem posthumen Sparklehorse-Album bei. Grandaddy
haben fünf offizielle LPs veröffentlicht, zuletzt 2017 das Album „Last Place“. Zu den Mitgliedern von Grandaddy gehören Jason Lytle, Aaron Burtch,
Jim Fairchild, Tim Dryden und der 2017 verstorbene Kevin Garcia.

Danielle Boutet’s P »Pièces« is a mysterious artifact of Quebecois marginalia, self-released in 1985. Moving from languid ennui to high drama, »Pièces« is a dreamy gestalt, an album that borders Chanson, spoken-word, jazz noir, and minimalism, conjured from the chasm between acoustic and electronic realms. »Pièces« allows us a window into the highly intimate songcraft and compositional skill of an artist who longed to linger not in the public eye, but in relation with others and the world around her.

Born in Quebec City, Boutet studied music at the University of Montreal, where she focused on composition and percussion, before becoming involved in Montreal’s feminist and lesbian art scene. Primarily written, performed, and recorded by Boutet, with voice, guitar work, and technical assistance by Sylvie Gagnon, Pièces was created during a paradigm shift in home recording. Originally composed for the piano, Boutet and Gagnon utilized a consumer-friendly Tascam 4-track Portastudio and versatile Yamaha DX-7, alongside guitar, bass, marimba, and the human voice, to expand and contemporize the original composition’s scope.

Inspired by prog rock and British poet and musician Anne Clark, »Pièces« translates Boutet’s influence by moving between sunny, wistful fairytale and dark, wintry dirge. Filled with longing marimba, vertiginous, startling synth pads, and folk guitar, each track on Pièces offers a wholly unique proposition. Some are modal and rife with the ethereal psychological tension of a sci-fi soundtrack, while others are more like entering a smoke-laced lounge, the entertainer embodying seduction.

With the sprechgesang of artists like Serge Gainsbourg, there is an intense intimacy to Boutet’s delivery, sometimes as if she is performing for an audience of one. As one lyric goes, translated to English from French: “Like holograms/ Images from a world/ That inhales souls/ And exudes drama.” Another song contains an excerpt from The Tao of Physics: “The eastern sages specify clearly that they do not identify an ordinary void, but rather, a void having an infinite creative potential.”

To English-language audiences, the album’s title, »Pièces«, might seem to simply refer to the eleven different pieces. The title can also, of course, refer to parts of a larger whole, but Boutet is keen to point out that there is also another meaning: In French, a pièce is a room. On the cover of the original cassette, Boutet is seen sitting on a chair, alone in an empty apartment, a cable snaking at her feet. Listening to »Pièces« is like entering eleven different rooms: whether a study encased in shadow, a greenhouse left to wither in an eternal frost, or a divine nave.

Boutet sold a few dozen copies around Montreal, a scene mostly occupied by the new wave explosion de rigueur, but the inclusion of Pièces in the 1987 issue of Ladyslipper—the North Carolina-based mail order catalog that championed women musicians of all calibers and careers—led to more exposure throughout North America. “In the catalog,” Boutet says, “they included it in the New Age section, but I was, and still am, aware that this album is relatively unclassifiable.”

Boutet would release one more album, titled Musiques Urbaines, before getting pulled in the direction of interdisciplinary art and theory. “Although I never stopped making music, I lost all interest in public diffusion or performance,” Boutet says. Despite her departure from performance and publicly releasing music, she left behind a strange and enthralling document of Montreal’s 1980s feminist fringe, an aural document of the historic moment when self-recorded music and its practical potential became a prismatic reality.

Danielle Boutet’s Pièces arrives February 16, 2024 as part of uncommon¢ (“uncommon sense”), an open-ended, serialized endeavor from Freedom to Spend that provides new meaning for rarefied recordings from music’s outermost fringe.

These recordings of Gongs Orchestras were made during Funeral Ceremonies in two Kung villages and one Jaraï village in Ratanakiri province, Cambodia by Laurent Jeanneau (Kink Gong) in 2003 and 2004, at a times when jungle had not been replaced by rubber plantations. Focusing on funeral's ceremonies, those hypnotics pieces are intense and haunting harmonics sonic experiments.

"Adventure brought me to south-east Asia, not academic research. I was based on and off in Banlung, capital of Ratanakiri province between 2003 and 2006. Finding gongs orchestras became my obsession, I've witnessed different contexts in which gongs were being performed, but the most brainwashing ceremonies were the funerals, because they would never end, I remember leaving the 3 days funeral ceremony of a prominent Jaraï dead man in Tang ji village at the border with Vietnam and still hearing the gongs the entire next day going back home through the jungle". - Laurent Jeanneau (Kink Gong)

"Many of the ethnic minority groups, the Jarai, Kac_, Tampuan, Kavet, Kreung, Brao, Bunong, Mnong, Edé, and others, are hill-rice farmers who live in the uplands of the Annamite mountain chain. Collectively these groups have been known by many names, including a number of disparaging terms in local dialects, such as moï, kha, phnong, and others. The term Montagnard was applied to them by the French during the colonial period, and was used by the US military and in popular discourse in English during the United States-Vietnam War. In scholarly and popular literature during the mid-twentieth century these upland farmers were also called hill tribes. I have opted for the word highlanders as a relatively neutral term that avoids the semantic burdens associated with these other namings." - Jonathan Padwe, The book Disturbed forests fragmented memories.

Roberto Agosta, or just Agosta as he likes to be called, is a Sicilian DJ and producer from Catania active all along the eastern coast of Sicily, a place that proved to be a soulful place and a training ground for a long career, making him an excellent music selector and a reference point in the spread of alternative music.

A soundtrack music enthusiast since he was a child, now a vinyl "serial gathere", Agosta has always put his vast knowledge at the service of a very personal sound that sums many different music styles and contaminations, simple and profound but straightforward and direct at the same time.

Agosta’s eponymous album, released on LP, CD and digital formats, was conceived during the Covid-19 lockdown, thanks to the precious collaboration of friend DJ and producer Massimo Napoli aka Galathea, with whom Roberto has already started another project called AN-AN that will produce a new record for Space Echo at the end of 2022.

This record highlights a typical chill-out aesthetic, thanks to its trip-hop and ambient rhythms and atmospheres, while a deeper exploration reveals the psychedelic essence of the entire work, a daring and exciting journey in the most primitive Sicily, and the energy that sustains all of its ten tracks.

Much of their author and his lifestyle - mainly based on meditation, the search for spiritual elevation, the relationship with nature and the regaining of contact with those particular places and with the people who live there - is revealed by those tracks that constitute a soundtrack for this spiritual but also extremely physical journey.

The song titles are, in fact, intrinsically linked to Roberto’s real life: the Gorna and Ilice mountains at the foot of Etna, the Carricante vineyard and its excellent wine, Unna, Three Chestnuts, Varanni, Don Alfio, Lady G. Each of them represents a pleasant and dreamlike narration and the escape from the complex dynamics of a city like Catania, among echoes of the most dreamy Pink Floyd, the softer side of ’70s krautrock, but also the Massive Attack and Tricky’s Bristol scene.
There’s also an excellent choice of synthesizers and overdubbed guitars, thanks to the talent of the multifaceted musician and producer Salvo Bruno Dub, and of Manuela Amalfitano, Loredana Poidomani and Deran Obika’s voices.

Agosta is an introspective, deep work with a cinematic vocation, perfectly rooted in the territory where it took shape, among sunny landscapes, lush with vegetation but also deserted and arid lands. From Sicily to the cosmos... enjoy!

The Sex featuring members of Mercenary God and No Suicide. A mixture of different elements with a rock substrate for an uncategorized result. Another Post-Punk gem from the 80's Italian North-Eastern scene.

My adventure buddies? The silent, enigmatic Patti, former singer of the mysterious No Suicide, and the young, faithful Chris, a passionate Police fan, we met on the battlefield and he immediately became my brother. For him, learning to play the bass was a way to get close to Sting, in other words, just one step below Paradise. Patti instead played keyboards as an extension of her mysterious and glacial presence, so still and distant that the audience sometimes wondered if she was real. And then there was my fixation for the drum machine, a futuristic device which could transform the drumming sweat into an invisible, yet physical, dreamlike pulsation. A particular combination of characters and a special astral conjunction, that’s what you need to get a nucleus source of sonic emotions, and in some ways this is what we were. You could clearly feel it during the concerts. When at the end of ‘81 My Mercenary God lost their drummer and had to disband, I felt clearly that the music had already changed.

Our old 70’s rock ‘n’ roll sound was no longer representative of the day. We were like some sort of yesterday’s newspaper. Thus I Sex was born (later The Sex). According to Freudian thought that sees sexual instinct as the driving force behind every (creative or destructive) human act. And in fact we immediately started creating, destroying, assembling and deconstructing our sound. Suddenly “tomorrow became now”. It was an outburst of creative independence in the form of homemade cassettes put together with makeshift tools, at least until the arrival of the legendary 4 track recorder. I was 19 years old, Chris was only 17. Nothing more than kids after all. Yet we were already veterans, veterans of a lost war. Wise, naive, disillusioned dreamers, everything and the opposite of everything. But, above all, we were totally devoted to our creative delirium up to the point of losing touch with reality, crossing limits, breaking down barriers and almost bordering on madness. Perhaps we were just too involved, especially if in relationship with what we could receive in return. We always spread our energies as if there was no future. We unconsciously felt that we had to live in the moment, now or never, and in retrospect it really was like that, and this is why these songs exist now. Songs created with the intent to tell an inner universe that is, now as then, far from any convention.

nehan is a Japanese free improvisation & avant-garde rock quintet formed in August 2022. Their performances are initiated by a 9hz brain wave emitted from a testee who has been brought into a deep meditative state via either hypnosis or acupuncture - a very relaxed but very alert state. nehan doesn"t begin until the testee has gotten into the state of "nothingness." It is only then that the improvisation can begin. The role of improvisation has been key to all the musical projects of Masaki Batoh. In 2010, as Batoh was winding down the activity of his long-standing "heavy chamber folk" group, Ghost, he became involved in the design of a machine to generate sonic data based on brain waves. An acupuncturist as well as a musician by trade, his interest was spurred by the rhythms of the body and the brain, and a desire to access the "pulses" of brain waves to initiate improvisations. Following the release of Brain Pulse Music, Batoh toured Japan, the US and Europe, making demonstrations of his process using a local volunteer and guest performers, when available. Today, nehan arrive at their performance space prepared with a Brain Pulse testee, bringing a wide array of instruments including gongs, timpani, tabla and other drums and percussion, Crumhorn, bagpipes, mellotron, oscillators and additional sound effects. Their performance is a transformative electro-acoustic display that passes through the prism of music styles, from east to west, from traditional folk and classical to rock, jazz, and avant electronic. While nehan"s performance presentation invokes a sense of ritual, they understand their process as being far removed from any type of spiritual endeavor - it has nothing to do with eastern thinking or any kind of religious ceremony - this is an action of improvisation, occurring in reality between the five musicians on stage, in response to the brain waves of an individual. For the personnel of nehan, Masaki Batoh asked players with whom he had good previous experiences in improvisation: Futoshi Okano (Ghost, Acid Mothers Temple, The Silence), Haruo Kondo (Espvall & Batoh) and Junzo Tateiwa (Ghost), along with female Brain Pulse testee Gozen on oscillators. The performance here, recorded live in August of 2022 at GOK SOUND in Tokyo, demonstrates their communal dedication to the improvisation. The players act as listeners and musicians simultaneously, inspired to make extended pieces of music out of the "nothingness" of brain waves. The possibilities of nehans"s chosen approach are almost infinite; an evening with nehan is only the beginning of their journey.

Following the reissue last year of Fairuz's classic 1979 album "Wahdon", Wewantsounds pursue their exploration of great Lebanese music with the reissue of Fairuz's highly sought-after LP "Maarifti Feek," released in 1987. Recorded in Beirut around 1983-84, the album features the Diva's superb voice combined with Ziad Rahbani's jazz and funk orchestration, making it one of the most in-demand albums on the Arabic funk scene. The release will coincide with "Arab Divas," a major exhibition set in the prestigious Institut du Monde Arabe (IMA) in Paris, celebrating the greatest singers from the Arab World and starting 13 May 2020. One of the greatest singers of the Middle East, Fairuz started her career in Lebanon in the 50s and quickly established herself as the most renowned Diva in the Arabic world, playing the most prestigious venues in the world. At the end of the 70s, Fairuz was at a turning point both professionally and personally. Her Husband Assi Rahbani, who, with his brother Elias, had penned her biggest successes, has suffered a stroke a few years earlier. This setback ultimately led to both the demise of their marriage and the end of their professionnal partnership. Enters Ziad Rahbani, Fairuz and Assi's son, a young musician, playwright and producer who had cut his teeth writing a handful of Fairuz's song - including her 1973 hit "Sa'alouni El Nas" - at just seventeen. Ziad Rahbani swiftly took over from his father and uncle as the singer's musical director and composer and this fruitful association, which started in 1979 with the album "Wahdon," broke many new grounds for Fairuz with funkier rhythms and edgier lyrics. It was recorded at the same time as Rahbani's own 12 inch "Abu Ali" which became a sought-after disco classic in its own right. The association between the two continued with a second album, "Maarifti Feek" ("Our Encounter"), recorded between 1983 and 84 in Beirut but only released in 1987. The album was another groundbreaking mix of influences ranging from the traditional arrangements of "Oudak Rannan" and "Ma Kdirt Nseet" to the brazilan flavour of "Version 1" via the synth funk of "Ouverture 83" and its follow up "Reprise 83". Also featured on the album is a beautiful remake of Joaquin Rodrigo's "Concerto de Aranjuez" in the form of a tribute to the lebanese capital, "Li Beirut." This blend of Oriental grooves with jazz and funk orchestrations by Ziad Rahbani is a unique document of Fairuz's career development in the 80s and explains why "Maarifti Feek" is such a sought after album on the DJ and collector circuits which Wewantsounds is delighted to reissue for the first time since the album first came out.

Repress! Soul, funk and rock recorded by US Army Servicemen during the height of the Vietnam War and released as a recruitment tool by the US Army as a recruitment tool. United States Army soldiers made the music contained on this album during the politically turbulent early 70s, towards the end of the Vietnam War. East of Underground was comprised of soldiers stationed in bases across Western Germany. While little is known about the band, the players, and the milieu they came from - other than what can be pieced together from a handful of photos and documents found in a box in the New York Public Library, and the vague recollections of some of those involved – we at Now-Again Records have worked diligently with the United States Army and researchers the country over to present this important document – and some damn good soul and funk music.

Saint Abdullah & Eomac is a long distance, ongoing collaboration between New York based Iranian-Canadian brothers Mohammad and Mehdi Mehrabani (Saint Abdullah) and Ian McDonnell a.k.a. Eomac, based in Wicklow in Ireland. They tested the waters with their first album on Nicolas Jaar's Other People label last year, but 'Chasing Stateless' is their fullest expression so far.

The creative mindset behind the album starts with bravery and eschews escapism. Says Saint Abdullah's Mohammad, "As a collective, we exist to test the revolutionary possibilities within sound and sonic storytelling. As a means to finding a vision of the future and for building cultural dialogue today. Our belief is that the expressiveness of this vision should be pushed to its utmost limits to reveal anew. I always felt that the intensity of the middle eastern soul needs to be revealed more potently. Ian and the Irish have it too. I suspect most historically oppressed cultures do."

The music on 'Chasing Stateless' avoids easy middle eastern tropes — "I think what we're proposing here is that you don't need to water down our culture, you don't need to take only the bits that fit your idea of who we are, what we are. You ought to take it in its entirety."

Musically, the album approaches established genres and re-orientates them towards middle eastern rhythm and melody with an iron soul. Songs are rough and intense. Rusty polyrhythms, daf drums wrapped in a thick coating of distortion or punchy kicks with micro-edited samples of middle eastern life spiralling across them. Mournful melodies are squeezed out until the music teeters on the edge of rhythmic collapse. 'Chasing Stateless' is rough and energetic but also tender and reflective too. It's a human sound, utilising technology but not about technology. Sample heavy with expressions of anger, sadness and hope present and deeply felt.

The album's title speaks to a loss of collective societal imagination; of 'chasing status'. As Moh says "This generation, man, we're really good at putting up walls, despite all our openness. But where does this all lead to? What exactly are we chasing? This is where I especially love the name 'Chasing Stateless,' because if all this continues, we indeed will end up stateless, society-less, community-less, neighbor-less. Just a bunch of same-sies, living in an imaginary bubble, where we all look / think / say / CHASE the same things."

The official new edition from this rare and great Afrobeat & Soukous masterpiece from Nigeria !

"Vibro Success Intercontinental Orchestra was an extraordinary group from the Central African Republic, founded by the sax player Rodolphe 'Beckers' Bekpa, also known as Master Békers, in the late 60's. The band achieved surprising domestic success after Beckers introduced the first drums to the Congolese Rumba rhythm. His innovation proved to be wildly popular so they were hired as the resident band of “ciel d’Afrique au Km5”, a night club in Bangui. The club was renowned as the temple of the Olympic Réal football team's fans and that visibility propelled them into becoming the official national orchestra.

1970 marked beginning of the band's international fame . Their fame spread beyond national borders until they became so popular that invitations began to arrive from nearby countries like Cameroon and Chad, the former of which the band would then tour that same year. The success of their performances prompted a further tour in 1972. According to Rodolphe Bépka, the audience enthusiasm Vibro encountered was bewildering. "We filled the old military stadium in Yaoundé in 1970, in 1972 the new Amadou Haïdjo stadium ... We are running with great success in the cities.” Their popularity was also growing in Chad, where they would tour several times through the early and mid 70's.

Towards the end of 1976, Vibro Success decided to take their music global and introduce Central African music to listeners worldwide. It worked. The turning point came in Nigeria. There the group achieved extraordinary success, with live performances followed by contracts with local labels like Scottie and Ben/Clover resulting in hit releases. Most of their LP's were originally released on this later label, Ben Limited, owned by Ben Okonkwo.

Ben, also known as Clover Sounds, brought a great number of the biggest bands from the country to market, bands like The Apostles, Akwassa,The Doves, Aktion, The Visitors, Mansion, Folk 77 and many others. Nearly all those groups started their recording careers in the label's studios based in the commercial heart of Aba, Abia State, one of Southeastern Nigeria’s largest cities. Aba at that time was a flourishing city, an important crossroads of people and culture with an intensive and active and cutting edge live music and nightlife.

But after that golden era the group began to lose its popularity. In the 1980's they returned to Bangui and resumed their old-time gigs in dance halls there - only to realize that their music didn't have the appeal it used to. Making matters worse, the domestic economic downturn accelerated, forcing the orchestra to slowly end its activities . Vibro Succès Intercontinental Orchestra disappeared at the end of the 80s and most of its members died in the 90s.

We discovered this LP during our first trip to Nigeria in 2016. While traveling in the east to meet up with a musician, we stopped for a night in a village. As often happens in Nigeria, information has a way of traveling fast. The news that a couple of white guys looking for records had arrived in the village the day before spread like light. When we awoke, we found a couple of elderly music lovers in the hall of our hotel with a little pile of records for sale. The nice cover of the “Drunkard” album was right on top!

At first we thought it was just another really good soukous album made by Vibro Success but after we heard “Drunkard” - we knew we had stumbled onto something very special. That was the “easy” part. Soon after, we had the idea of reissuing this LP and that was a bit harder. There were no credits on the cover and not much information about Vibro Succès. We started to ask to our friends to ask around, see if somebody knew them or the producer. That's when sadly we discovered that Ben Okonkwo had passed. So with no leads to follow and seemingly without any possibility of making progress on the matter, we "gave up" and returned to Italy.

A couple years later, in the summer of 2019, we found ourselves again in Aba. This time we had the chance to meet Nnamdi Okonkwo, the eldest son of the late Ben Okonkwo. After Nnamdi's mother and family agreed, he was glad to cooperate with us for the re-release of this special album."

Trailblazing instrumental synth pop experiments created to soundtrack Japan’s booming 1980s cartoon and comic industries. The brightly futuristic instrumentals on this collection reflect the mindset of composers and musicians who believed in a technological future where everything was possible.

In the late 1980s Japan experienced a brief but heady period where societal changes combined with new-found wealth to open up a world of possibilities. A huge influx of cash - artificially created by slashed interest rates after an agreement with the US to weaken the dollar relative to the yen - resulted in the inflation of real estate and stock market at a rapid pace. While the economic bubble it created was unprecedented and impossible to sustain, for a while money was in plentiful supply.

The musical genre City Pop reflected the aspirations of the country’s booming leisure class. Video games flourished with Nintendo's 1983 launch of their Family Computer (or FamiCom). Studio Ghibli was founded 1985 to later became one of the most famous and respected animation studios in the world, and Anime and Manga were established as major forms of entertainment for all generations of the Japanese public.

Music was no mere footnote to the anime and manga boom: the two forms of media often went hand in hand, and not simply through the presence of background melodies. With generous budgets available, even two-dimensional static manga comics could be released with an accompanying soundtrack of original music known as an ‘Image Album’.

Composer and arranger Kazuhiko Izu was one such beneficiary of this open budget approach. Written to accompany artist Katsuhiro Otomo’s manga comic Domu, the composer and arranger took advantage of the world-leading (and wallet-busting) Japanese synthesiser technology available at King Records’ fully equipped studio. Featured on this compilation, A3: Act 2 Scene 26 reflected the story’s sci fi themes with a blazingly futuristic yet warmly funky slice of synth pop that presents a joyful celebration of synthesisers and their seemingly endless possibilities.

Kan Ogasawara was another composer who made early mastery of the litany of synthesisers, drum machines and sequencers that had become available. Two tracks written to accompany the 1985 period manga Yume No Ishibumi are featured here; Honowo’s experimental electronic textures add spice to a jaunty electro pop melody that recalls the Rah band’s 1983 hit Messages From Stars; the jazz-tinged Utage rounds out Ogasawara’s shimmering synth textures with beautifully crafted backing from legendary musicians Yuji Toriyama (guitar), Pecker (percussion) and Jun Fukamachi (piano).

Before becoming one of the pioneers of Japanese Kankyo Ongaku (Ambient Music), Takashi Kokubo worked on the proto techno track Kiki (Jungle At Night). It was put together for the 1984 anime film Shonen Keniya (Kenya Boy) using some of the most expensive music technologies available at the time. This Africa-Inspired dance track offers a contemporary parallel to the early techno music that young Detroit based producers were then creating using cheap Japanese Roland drum machines and synthesisers.

This is the first compilation of Japanese anime and manga soundtracks curated by Kay Suzuki and Rintaro Sekizuka from Vinyl Delivery Service (a Tokyo based online record shop which also operates in East London's renowned wine and hifi shop Idle Moments). With a cover by artist Kazuki Takakura and two pages of liner notes, this vinyl only compilation of music never before released outside of Japan, captures a vital aural snapshot of an era whose forward-thinking sounds went hand in hand with cutting edge technology.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce the first LP documenting master khene player Sombat Simla, the label’s first collaboration with Japanese sound artist, field recordist, and researcher Yasuhiro Morinaga. Simla is known in Thailand as one of the greatest living players of the khene, the ancient bamboo mouth organ particularly associated with Laos but found throughout East and Southeast Asia. His virtuosic and endlessly inventive renditions of traditional and popular songs have earned him the title ‘the god of khene’, and he is known for his innovative techniques and ability to mimic other instruments and non-musical sound, including, as a writer for the Bangkok Post describes, ‘the sound of a train journey, complete with traffic crossings and the call of barbecue chicken vendors’. Aided by a group of Thai friends, in 2018 Morinaga travelled to the Maha Sarakham province in the Isan region, arranging to meet Simla in a remote spot surrounded by rice fields. Then and there, Morinaga recorded the solo performances heard on the LP’s first side. At Morinaga’s request, Simla began with a rendition of the train song ‘Lot Fay Tay Lang’. Beginning with long tones that seem to mimic a train horn, the performance soon moves into a rapid chugging rhythm, interrupted at points by vocal exclamations and the remarkable timbre Simla produces by singing through the khene. To listeners unfamiliar with Thai music, the pentatonic scales and rhythmic chug of many of the pieces can have surprising echoes of the rawest American blues. The range of Simla’s performance is astonishing, moving from compulsive rhythmic workouts on single chords and rapid-fire runs of single notes to gentle sing-song melodies, and using a fascinating array of techniques, including a rapid tremolo that sometimes sounds almost electronic. Later the same day, Morinaga followed Simla to a cattle shed where he met percussionist Mali Moodsansee to play some molam (folk songs found in Isan and neighbouring Laos), with Pattardon Ekchatree joining in on cymbal. At times, these molam songs have a wistful, romantic character quite different from the solo pieces. Backed up by the propulsive hand drums, Simla again dazzles with his melodic fluidity, rhythmic drive, and wild displays of unorthodox technique. As Morinaga writes, ‘It felt like they had been playing together so long that their breathing was perfectly in sync, and it was like listening to the precision of James Brown’s funk’. Accompanied by extensive liner notes by Morinaga detailing the day of recording, this is a stunning document of a master musician, seamlessly integrating tradition and innovation.

Pejzaz (aka Bartosz Kruczyski) returns with two captivating new collage albums. Divided into two records LIST I (which was released end of September this year) & LIST II - which premieres end of movember - delves into the realm of 90s/Y2K Eastern European CD releases. Employing hundreds of samples, Pejzaz sculpts a mesmerizing and distinctive body of work.

LIST II guides the listener into the night, combining trip hop and dub influences, dusty samples, wailing blues guitars, and cold-wave synthesizers. Its haunting soundscapes provide an apt soundtrack for winter in Eastern Europe.

Notably, this marks Pejzaz first foray into a fully instrumental album. Although devoid of lyrics, the bittersweet blend of samples infuses the music with a profoundly Polish essence, further enhancing its distinctive allure.

Marjaa: The Battle of the Hotels” is a concept album born of the idea of merging singer & songwriter Mayssa Jallad’s two vocations: music and urban research/architectural history. Written in collaboration with producer Fadi Tabbal, the music builds upon Tabbal’s spatial approach to sound and Jallad’s research on Beirut’s Hotel District. The album is a reference to Jallad’s Historic Preservation master's thesis, in which she detailed the history of the “Battle of the Hotels”, a 5-months battle that took place in Beirut at the beginning of the Lebanese Civil War, from October 22nd, 1975 to March 29th, 1976. Jallad saw architecture as a main protagonist of the battle, as she discovered it was the first high rise urban battle in the world. The close of the battle resulted in the 15-year Green Line, an urban rift which split Beirut into “East and West”, restricting movement and communication and creating a violent divide that still resonates today. The album comprises two parts. Part A: Dahaliz, is a stroll in the city, where Jallad tries (and fails) to follow an old map. Musician Youmna Saba is a companion in this journey of remembering the once winding corridors (“Dahaliz”) of the city, destroyed by new developments since the 1960s. Empty skyscrapers propel her onto a past filled with the violence of snipers, and a present filled with the glamorous injustice of empty luxury real estate endorsed by powerful warlords-turned-politicians. In Part B: Maaraka, Jallad inhabits the building of the Battle of the Hotels, as its events unfold. She calls the fighting militias the Blues and Reds, respectively the Lebanese Front (Christian Nationalists) and the Lebanese National Movement (Pro-Palestinian leftists), leveling the playing field, and drawing a map of the battle through songwriting. Sary Moussa produces the conclusion of the battle in “Holiday Inn (March 21 to 29)”, which ends with the ultimate severance of the city of Beirut. The music caters to post-war youth who have never been taught this difficult history. Once we consider the “Battle of the Hotels” as our common heritage, it provides an opportunity to teach the value of civil peace. It is also a call to protest for the renewal, rather than the recycling of the political class that has once destroyed the country and holds us, to this day, hostage of its violence. Limited edition of 300 copies. 140gsm vinyl pressed at Microforum (Canada).

Gombloh’s forgotten masterpiece

What if you have Brian Wilson and Bruce Springsteen rolled into one? And what if he came of age as an poor buskers in in Surabaya, Indonesia, but then summoned enough strength to record six albums that flew in the face of everyone in the country’s rock scene back in the early 1980s?

Genius, be they Brian Wilson or Soedjarwoto “Soemarsono” Gombloh, don’t conform to rules written for us mere mortals. They have their own way of doing things and in the case of Gombloh, writing music, conducting recording session and spending cash from his music, must be conducted on his own terms and his terms only. Studio time was expensive back in the early 1980s, yet Gombloh could be three-hour late for his session, and while engineers, session musicians and producers were jittery about the prospect of another botched session, Gombloh took his time for a nap before the recording begun.

Yet, some of his greatest works came into being in the wake of this napping session. Recording session for Sekar Mayang is no exception, despite the fact there’s foreboding sense of doom with Gombloh being unsure about the possibility of selling enough units to help his label break even. This is, after all, this is his last record with his band Lemon Tree’s. No one knew that Gombloh was operating with all his cylinders running and what came out of this Indra Record session, in the waning days of 1980, were some of the best compositions ever committed to magnetic tapes (to wax, if now you’re holding this on vinyl).

This is Gombloh at the peak of his creative genius. You can argue that his debut album Nadia & Atmospheer (what’s with the spelling mistake?) is the most sprawling and complex album (both sonically and thematically), but Sekar Mayang certainly had the best songs and I can make the argument that this album’s 10 songs are strong contenders for biggest hits in blues, country, psychedelic rock charts. “Prahoro & Prahoro” is one of those impossible song which appears to have sprung from a bottomless well of inspiration, encompassing King Crimson’s sprawling epic, Deep Purple’s deepest blues and Genesis’ most progressive tendencies. Or “Sekaring Jagat”, which begins as Lennon-McCartney lullaby before launching a thousand ships traveling to the end of the rainbow with children choir singing heavenly melodies backed by droning harpsichord and synclavier, while a buzzing Hammond B3 tightly locks with Gombloh’s guitar strumming.

For many of his fans, Gombloh is known as generous man of the people. A Robin Hood type if you please. He spent his royalty checks to buy foods for beggars and buskers and dish out some more to buy undergarments for Surabaya’s prostitutes. In Sekar Mayang, Gombloh went full Springsteen mode in “Mitra Becakan,” a social commentary that cut so deep you can end up with tears in your eyes and lump in your throat (even if you don’t understand any of its Javanese language lyrics). This is one the most devastating social commentary ever recorded for a pop song, and even if you discount the greatness of its musical composition, you chalk this up as a great social-realism poetry. His years of hanging out with pedicab drivers, street vendors and street-bound prostitutes certainly gave him enough insight into their (in)human condition.

Yet, a record this stellar was largely forgotten. First, this record was a flop upon its release in 1981. Indra Records reportedly only did one pressing on cassette tape and be done with it. For those who were lucky enough to have come across one of songs from this album on the radio were likely growing up in East Java, where Gombloh had a massive cult following early in the 1980s. Nothing was heard from this record again.

There were only a handful of cassette tapes from the first pressing found on second-hand market and I recently stumbled upon one online with a price tag of Rp 50 million (US$3,500). It’s no longer available now.

In Sekar Mayang, Gombloh harbours an obsession for a long-lost utopia, Java’s distant past, where farmers have their barn full of rice and corn, where blacksmith working around the clock making tools and children singing and dancing in their seminaries. Or the fact that he opens the song with stanza from Serat Weddhatama, arguably the most monumental poem in neo-classic Javanese literature, could be his pledge of allegiance. The question for him is should a modern-day Indonesia, rife with poverty, corruption and environmental degradation not be an anathema to that utopia?

In the end, you don’t need to be someone fluent in Javanese to enjoy this majestic record. And if this record turns out to be the last in Elevation Records catalogue and we shut down this label tomorrow, we will be very happy. Mission accomplished!

Most of Gen X-ers who grew up in the mid-1980s Indonesia must have seen Soedjarwoto Soemarsono, known with his nom de guerre “Gombloh” performing on a state-run television station, playing some of his biggest hits from that era, pop gems like “Kugadaikan Cintaku (I Pawn Off My Love)”, “Setengah Gila (Half-Crazy).”

But of course, it is not fair to judge Gombloh only from these hits. Dig deeper and you will find buried treasure in his early stuff from Indra Records, and there are many of them.

His album with the band Lemon Tree’s Anno ‘69 (yes, that’s the name of the band) is all remarkable, but what he did for Chandra Records was no less spectacular. How can you go wrong with songs like “Kebyar-Kebyar”, the unofficial national anthem for Indonesia, dan “Berita Cuaca” one of the better epic songs in a catalogue full of epochal songs? These were all long out of print and in our journey to source the original master for these albums we met Bob Djumara of Nirwana Records, the Surabaya, East Java-based label which broke Gombloh into the mainstream in the mid-1980s. Almost all albums Gombloh recorded for his early labels, Indra Records and Chandra Records were critically acclaimed, but commercially they bombed, big time. Nirwana Records came up with an ingenious plan. What if they recorded Gombloh performing live and release it as is. After all, the first song in Gombloh debut record Nadia & Atmospheer is him strumming on his guitar backed by the cheering of a crowd, who could be heard going wild when he hurled that epithet “bastard” at the end of the song

The end result is a brilliant recording which despite being recorded live the sound quality so pristine leading many to doubt the claim of being live. Regardless, Nirwana shipped a decent number of units and Gombloh could buy his first car, a Katana Jeep, with money from the royalty.

One of the best things about Live Gila is its perfect sequencing, beginning with Gombloh’s social commentary on the rich’s debauched lifestyle of preying on young boys and girls, one of the most popular subjects allowed by the censoring machine of the New Order authoritarian government. The second song “Untuk Persada” is a soaring ode to the nation. For this song, Gombloh could be heard drawing his inspiration from The Police, which was undoubtedly popular in the early 1980s, even in a faraway port city like Surabaya.

Listening to this record as a whole (we omitted the last song from the original master tape “Bagimu Negeri” which sounds too jingoistic), we could not help but point to some of similarities it has with Bob Dylan’s Blood on the Tracks. Not a single composition in this record sound indigenous (the Malay-influenced rock of Panbers or Koes Plus come to mind); they all sound modern and effortlessly catchy, and had it not been for the language, this album could be mistaken for a musical output from someone growing up in Laurel Canyon or Southern France.

There are only limited copies of vinyl records in the second-hand market today available for Gombloh music, if at all. For his ardent fans, they have to scavenge for old cassettes to continue to be able to enjoy his music and have to pay top dollar for that. In Indonesia, where he was a superstar in the early 1980s, Gombloh was largely forgotten. With this project, we can only hope that the time is ripe for Gombloh to reemerge and now, more than ever, his music could speak to a bigger audience.

To celebrate the 10th Anniversary of Major Arcana, Speedy Ortiz will release a remastered edition, on Carpark Records.

On their debut full-length, Western Massachusetts' Speedy Ortiz manages a bit of magic by conjuring the spirits of classic American indie rock, while twisting those ghosts into new shapes. It's easy to hear the influences of Helium, Jawbox, and Chavez on this album, as well as nods to their contemporaries including Grass is Green, Pile, and Roomrunner. Sweet vocal harmonies run up against gnarly distortion, aided by basic, chunky bass parts and heavy, fill-laden drums.

The album was recorded in a few days in November at Justin Pizzoferrato's (Dinosaur Jr., Chelsea Light Moving) studio, Sonelab, a huge space in an old factory in Easthampton, Mass. The sessions went from very early in the day until very late at night, with the band taking its time to experiment. Pizzoferrato's collection of old distortion pedals were utilized on both the record's guitars and vocals.

The theme of the occult and the supernatural runs deep through Major Arcana, inspired by singer-guitarist Sadie Dupuis' reading on black magic. Dupuis' sometimes knotty and abstract lyrics bring to mind fellow wordsmith Stephen Malkmus, while referencing horror film tropes, chemistry, and neuroscience. Major Arcana's literal translation is 'major mysteries,' a phrase from tarot cards. 'I don't write in a narrative way and am more concerned with use of language than meaning,' Dupuis says, 'so I like the open-endedness of the title and the way it invites interpretation.'

After too much time freelance writing and watching re-runs in a windowless Brooklyn basement, guitarist and songwriter Sadie Dupuis left New York City for the wilds of Northampton, MA in order to pursue a master's degree in poetry. In doing so, she began Speedy Ortiz, a self-recorded lo-fi project named after a minor character from the Love and Rockets comic series. Speedy Ortiz soon became something else entirely as bassist Darl Ferm, guitarist Matt Robidoux, and drummer Mike Falcone teamed up to form a full band, balancing abrasive noise with infectious earworms. The newly minted Speedy Ortiz quickly found an audience in the Boston DIY scene, playing frequently with their friends Pile, Grass is Green, Fat History Month, Sneeze, Krill, and Arvid Noe.

Almost immediately, the band recorded a two-song single, 'Taylor Swift' and 'Swim Fan,' with Paul Q. Kolderie (Pixies, Hole) and Justin Pizzoferrato (Chelsea Light Moving, Dinosaur Jr.), and self-released it in March of 2012. Shortly thereafter they spent a few weekends at the dingy yet atmospheric Sex Dungeon Studios in Philadelphia recording the Sports EP, a five-track, loosely conceptual 10' released that June on Exploding in Sound Records.

The creation of Major Arcana, their full-length debut, marks the evolution of Speedy Ortiz into a wholly collaborative effort. Darl leans toward basic, chunky parts, while Mike, a talented songwriter in his own right, helped arrange while also providing aggressive, boisterous drums. And Matt is a classically trained guitarist, but his experience in noise and experimental music comes through in his anti-melodic guitar solos, which counterbalance Sadie's angular, scalar guitar riffs and poppy vocals.

The end result is a band able to distill their influences and creative impulses into something at once dissonant and melodic, noisy yet undeniably pop.

Bathed in a green haze, the crowd oozed to the mutant rock and roll roaring from the basement's dusty depths — everything and everyone was sweaty and sticky. But as Speedy Ortiz crammed into the back corner, their grins just inches away from ours, D.C.’s Dougout became a moshed-and-sloshed sauna of 20-somethings delirious on rock euphoria.

After spending much of the new millennium bored out of my skull by network soap indie, Speedy Ortiz — not to mention its pals in Pile, Ovlov, Grass is Green and the rest of New England’s burgeoning basement scene — was rock's wild howl. The songs were unpredictable, yet weirdly memorable, swaggering with a winky and wry sense of self. Riffs would twist with a topsy tenderness, then slam a ruptured discord. Sadie Dupuis' sphinxian-yet-sensitive lyrics were not only matched but accentuated by her coil-sprung vibrato. How could Speedy Ortiz not immediately become my new favorite band?

What began as a short-lived solo project recorded in Dupuis' off-hours as a rock camp counselor became a four-piece band in Northampton, Mass., by the end of 2011: Dupuis on guitar and vocals with drummer Mike Falcone, bassist Darl Ferm and guitarist Matt Robidoux. They made cool mixtapes, cracked inside jokes and gushed about teenagers that opened for them on tour. They freaked out (via LiveJournal) when they met the bassist from Polvo or Helium's Mary Timony, but also rolled their eyes at '90s indie-rock comparisons. The band's first single — the gender-bending got-laid grunge yowler "Taylor Swift'' — elicited that rare response of the simultaneous giggle and headbang. The Sports EP amped up the taut yet rubbery riffery.

Released July 9, 2013, Major Arcana is filled with wedding chapel exorcisms, oiled-down attractants and criminally twisted puny little villains — this is Dupuis' haunted lexicon as she scales the toxic Aggro Crag of a breakup. And while Dupuis wrote these songs, the band's convulsing arrangements and diverse influences sprawled the squigglier edges of feedbacked fuzz to mete out matters of the heart. Falcone — who, it's worth noting, has a knack for vocal harmony — swung as much as he smashed the drums. In easily tipoverable songs, Ferm's burly bass and percussive overdubs gave the unruly glee its momentum. Robidoux ripped skronky guitar solos and countered Dupuis' riffs with decorative splatter. Over a four-day marathon session at Sonelab in Easthampton, recording engineer Justin Pizzoferrato sparked the studio imagination of Speedy Ortiz — not only leaning into gritty tones but layer-caking dense dynamics that made these songs pop and pulverize.

For all her sweet-toothed seething, Dupuis was not easy on herself. Everyone's allowed the idiot growing pains of your 20s and the misery that follows, but I can only imagine the emotional exhaustion that playing these songs on the road, night after night, must have wrought. "But you left something on my lips: a mark so sick," she repeats over the doomy destruction that ends the album. Thinking back to the many Speedy Ortiz shows I caught in those early years, including an unofficial after-after party for my own wedding, "MKVI" often served as the noisy down-and-out closer — heads would bang in solidarity as the crowd became co-authors in the chaos, the biting phrase now a hex, Speedy Ortiz forever our coven. —Lars Gotrich

To celebrate the 10th Anniversary of Major Arcana, Speedy Ortiz release a remastered edition on Carpark Records.

Flora Yin Wong’s ravishing interiority finds lucid expression on an absorbing second album for Modern Love, manifesting her instrumental storytelling in a syncretic bind of supernatural themes with hyperrealist, concrète sound design.

Through ten parts, Flora crystallises the ennui that followed an uncanny, disorienting trip to East and Southeast Asia. “On an unexpected stopover in Hong Kong after five years away, my friends took me to a Bazi reader one night - something I was curious about, but much of a ritual for them - ” Flora recalls. “My father told me that when I was born, he had obtained an auspicious reading that since stayed like a guiding talisman with me. It was almost past midnight but people were still lined up, rather shaken and visibly upset, to see the old man. He had kind eyes and asked me why I was there and I said I was at a crossroads. He asked me my time and date of birth, and told me to pick one of his four little white canary birds as a vessel for divination.”

This was the final stretch of an ultimately aimless few months across the continent, including a 20 year overdue return with her father to his adoptive family in his hometown Kuala Lumpur - for many reasons, ended up as a strange and uncanny trip. She spent solitude in a haunted house during the quiet snowfall of Kyoto, where she might have offended some spirit... and nights in mountain temples with South Korean monks, and an equally strange feeling return to the Island of the Gods.

“It culminated in what felt like a final disillusionment with Asia - sudden deaths and a breakdown in beliefs - somewhere I never really have or will be able to connect with. The process of the reading summoned a final blow to my gut - an overwhelming sense of rootlessness, and understanding that all there is is emptiness and entropy. No birth-divined protection, just a measurement of the night sky based off nothing and everything.”

Heavy with a sense of nightmarish dissociation and grief, Flora read about Giuseppe Tartini’s ‘Violin Sonata in G Minor’, aka the Devil’s Trill Sonata, a notoriously tricky c.18th composition which attempted to transcribe music heard in a dream, which the composer felt he could never fully bring into reality. It’s this soporific motif that binds and underpins ’Cold Reading’, finding Flora chasing the dragon of fleeting fantasy through passages of etched melancholy, pinched with hypnagogic jerks that linger in the memory.

From her use of the ‘Devil’s Trill’ Sonata in ‘All My Dreams are Nightmares’ through evocations of subtropical humidity in the Bryn Jones-esque, resonant hand-played percussion of ‘Konna’ and ‘Banjar’, to a breathtaking dreampop denouement ‘Nectar Dripping’ and the Enya-like lush of ‘Beautiful Crisis’, Flora blooms her ideas with an openended ambiguity so often missing from so called Ambient music, ushering the listener into a soundworld that disturbs and displaces, just as much as it calms.

We know you're not supposed to because it's often said to be a cheap marketing gimmick but frankly, we love a good anonymous new producer to get wondering about.

And here we have just that in the form of Skat who we're told is "heavily influenced by East End Edits and Digwah Ltd" and opens a new series with a one-sided 12".

'Skat 01' is a worthy tech cut with minimal drums loops and brushed metal surfaces all wound up into a tight groove and overlaid with some rudely vocal raps. It's the sort of tune that brings a unique character to any set and is sure to get the crowd demanding its ID.

Das vierte Studioalbum 'Day And Age' von Frost* ist zurück auf Standard CD Jewelcase. Für dieses Album arbeitete die Band als 3-Mann-Besetzung, bestehend aus Godfrey und seinen langjährigen Mitstreitern John Mitchell und Nathan King. 'Um ehrlich zu sein, hat uns der Wechsel ziemlich beflügelt', sagt Godfrey, 'er gab uns eine viel breitere Palette an kompositorischen Möglichkeiten', wir schrieben einen Song und sagten: 'Stellen wir uns vor, Schlagzeuger x ist zur Band gestoßen, was würde er hier tun? Das hat uns in einige interessante neue Richtungen geführt'. Am Ende wurden drei Schlagzeuger Teil des Aufnahmeprojekts: Kaz Rodriguez (Chaka Khan, Josh Groban), Darby Todd (The Darkness, Martin Barre) und Pat Mastelotto (Mister Mister, King Crimson). 'Jeder Musiker brachte einen ganz anderen Spielstil mit', sagt John Mitchell, 'und wir haben die Songs auf sie zugeschnitten.' Im Januar 2020 richtete die Band für eine Woche ein neues, temporäres Studio in einem umgebauten Turm der Küstenwache in Dungeness in East Sussex (Großbritannien) ein. 'Wir waren 30 Fuß vom Meer entfernt, neben einem Atomkraftwerk und einem Leuchtturm, mitten im Winter! Es gab also kaum Tageslicht und das Wetter war furchtbar', lacht Bassist Nathan King, 'Wir haben dort 'Terrestrial' und 'Repeat To Fade' geschrieben, und in meinem Kopf kann man förmlich hören, wie sich die düstere, isolierte Bedrückung auf uns auswirkte. Die Songs, die wir schrieben, waren viel düsterer - der Wind heulte nachts um das Gebäude, das Kraftwerk erzeugte Knistern auf dem Ton, ein riesiger Leuchtturm nebenan fegte alle 30 Sekunden ein riesiges Licht in den Nebel und John schrie 'ENJOY YOURSELVES YOU SCUM' in ein Mikrofon. Es war absolut genial!'.Jetzt erhältlich als Standard CD Jewelcase, als Ersatz für die ausverkaufte Ltd. 2CD Edition.

‘Life And Death - The Five Chandeliers Of The Funereal Exorcisms’ pulls back the veil unto a nocturnal scene populated by shadows, embers burning coldly in the underworld. Marina Zispin is your guide, siren and protector both. Marina Zispin is the negative space between musicians Bianca Scout and Martyn Reid. Love And Death is the duo’s debut release, five chandeliers of melancholic, vibrant synth pop twinkling in the inky blackness. Both originally hailing from the North East of England and forming a musical partnership before lockdown, Bianca Scout and Martyn Reid initially worked remotely. Having relocated to South London and Newcastle respectively, Marina Zispin was born in earnest after the duo could begin writing and practising in the same space. Bianca Scout is a celebrated musician and dancer with a number of solo and collaborative works in her discographywhile Martyn Reid is a mainstay of the UK noise and power electronics scene, most recently with solo project Depletion. Marina Zispin largely eschews both Scout’s deconstructed approach to song and Reid’s focus on visceral, noise- based productions; the result is a new entity, the underground pop star that exists only in darkened dreams. Marina Zispin, then, is an avatar cajoled, nurtured and directed by Scout and Reid. Analogue electronics redolent of the early 80s Cold Wave and Synth Pop era form the base of the Zispin worldview, with Bianca Scout donning the Marina disguise, embodying the character over five songs of swooning drama, playful melodic interplays and tear-stained, doe-eyed sentiment. Flowers In The Sea opens with an austere 4/4 beat and hypnotic synth parts before Scout/Zispin floats in across the lagoon. Scout’s vocal tone is an instant winner, sweet like honey pouring down over the cold, robotic productions and stereo-panned synth work. We can almost see the petals drift into the horizon before being pulled under by the artist’s sadness. Ski Resort bursts out with a Jacno-inspired bassline and backing that could have been buried in a French disco in 1982 (think Stereo or Linear Movement) before Scout’s narrative details frivolousness and regret before a magical shift for the final coda into major key. Backworth Gold Club closes Side A, a mysterious rigid beat and minor chord synth arpeggios swimming in space, floating and obscure. On Side B, Hymn carries the tone on, church-like synths holding down the pattern for Zispin/Scout to float above in a flowing gown of reverb. The marriage of Reid’s cold musical backbone and Scout’s effortless vocal and co- production is in full flow here, the vocals at times rising to the rafters of this nocturnal place of worship, at other points they’re fuzzy samples cutting in and drifting out or sung with an extreme autotune, abstract and perfect in the moment. Surprise Party is the most straightforward pop bullet, Scout/Zispin’s vocal peering out more from the fog, perhaps revealing more than usual: vulnerability, maybe, the wandering muse of the artists behind the veil or just another layer of mystery behind the enigma? Marina Zispin’s Life & Death - The Five Chandeliers Of The Funereal Exorcisms ends as it began, scintillating in obscurity, leaving everything unanswered but open.

The last twelve months have been a whirlwind for Henry Counsell and Louis Curran, the men who make up Joy (Anonymous). Having established themselves during the Covid-19 era by playing impromptu meet-ups on London’s South Bank, they have graduated to bigger venues, travelled to far-flung locales and recorded their second album, Cult Classics, while maintaining the spontaneous energy and irrepressible joy that made their name. Their music revels in the euphoria of being alive and all the feelings, good or bad, that come with it. It invites us into a community, draws us close and promises the night of our lives.

Recorded over the course of a year, the blueprint for Cult Classics was laid down over a two-week span at Imogen Heap’s Round House in east London. Joy (Anonymous) invited friends old and new to visit - they’d record live instruments in jam sessions upstairs and then retreat to a second room to flip and loop and generally mess with the sounds, moulding them into sizzling dance tracks. “Loads of people were coming up to me like ‘I thought this was going to be a dance record?’” Louis says, remembering the quietly beautiful music they’d be recording. “I’d be like, don’t worry about that, just keep playing.” He’d send it back to people later and they’d be floored - “That was my bit and you’ve made it... jungle!”

It was an organic and creatively fulfilling approach, one that didn’t allow any of the music to get stale or stagnate. As they built the tracks from the sounds they’d collected, Joy (Anonymous) would weave the new songs into their famously improvised live sets, testing them, refining them, taking note of the audiences’ reactions. In a year punctuated by a lot of travel, they’d also incorporate the voices of people they met along the way - “Beazley’s Poem”, which opens the record, features the words of a man who was working security at a Fred Again show at New York’s Terminal Five. “He was basically doing the opposite of his job and being a hype man, climbing on the fence and ramping up the crowd - we ended up hanging out with him - like, who’s this legend?” Louis explains. “He just speaks really amazingly about his life, all these amazing thoughts and opinions - he started jumping on the mic when we were playing, preaching these amazing messages to the crowd, like that we all need to be nicer to each other. The first time we played the record in its entirety, he introduced us and that’s the recording we’ve used.”

Joy (Anonymous) remain dedicated to the spirit of spontaneity. They shut a street down with a surprise waterside party in New York. On a trip to Copenhagen they played an impromptu set in a cafe, which turned into a house party and a night-long good time. In Lithuania, they ended up playing in a decommissioned prison. It’s harder, perhaps, to keep that spirit alive now that they are operating more within the confines of the music industry but they will keep lugging their kit to wherever the party calls for as long as they can. “I think if we lose that, we’ve kind of lost what makes us us,” Henry says.

Bursting with multi-genre reference points and disparate influences, Cult Classics is very much a dance album. The samples we made ourselves or we took from music that is quite different to dance music, but we definitely wanted to shout out a lot of the dance influences that we love,” Henry says. They listened to a lot of Daft Punk and Basement Jaxx as well as The Prodigy (“more rage stuff”), taking songwriting tips from their dance forebears, but also recording bits that felt more like jazz and motown (see: A Place I Belong and the lovely album closer, You’re In Or You’re Out). Emir Taha’s gentle classical guitar runs like a thread throughout Cult Classics, washing into the undertones of the record, tying it all together.

The album follows the beat of a night out, from frenetic, sweaty movement to the gentler winding down as the dawn breaks. At times it is euphoric, celebratory and pure, whirling fun, at others it seeks the joy in the darker emotions that life throws our way. 404 is designed to encapsulate everything about the Joy (Anonymous) journey so far. Skittering beats and ghostly vocals give way to vibrating house chords: sirens blare as we approach a dubstep drop. It’s dramatic and wild, ratcheting up, seeming to settle then hitting you with an intense and frantic breakdown before the ghostly vocal returns to lull us back into the world. It has the feel of a hungry cat playing with a mouse, toying with it before letting it get away.

What sounds like someone playing the spoons on playful, housey How We End Up Here is actually Louis’ restless habit of clicking his rings on everything, one of a myriad of calling cards and easter eggs that day one fans will recognise. They rework Miley Cyrus and Swae Lee’s Party Up The Street into a French-electro-inspired future classic, adding a note of melancholy to a tune that you can imagine hearing blaring from every car on a summer drive. The lyrics on Cult Classic are generally reassuring, inspirational, originally drawn from Henry in stream-of-consciousness freestyles. You’re fine the way you are, they seem to say - the repeated “No need to try” of A Place I Belong, the assurance that “It’s in me all the time” on In Me All The Time. Even the summery but regretful Did You Wrong hints at the growth that is possible from less than ideal behaviour. For Joy (Anonymous), joy isn’t about just being “happy” all the time - it’s about relishing every element of your being.

The name ‘Joy (Anonymous)’ is taken from the work Henry did with Alcoholics Anonymous groups: it is a way to build a community around sharing joy. Their impromptu live sets are known as ‘meetings’; they encourage fans to share moments of joy to their website. They care deeply about the scene they’ve come up in and are determined not to leave it behind. Every show is another chance to reach out and connect with people who love to come together and revel in music as loud as it can go.

Support slots for Fred Again and The Streets, wild B2Bs with Fred and Skrillex, and a set at Four Tet’s Finsbury Park all-dayer this summer have given the duo the opportunity to live out childhood dreams and introduced their infectious live shows to new audiences at huge venues.

With an album as assured and joyful as Cult Classics on the horizon (and a killer collab with The Blessed Madonna coming up), they’re only going to reach higher heights. But the essence of Joy (Anonymous) remains on the South Bank. Between shows at Ally Pally in September, they dragged their camping chairs and gear back down to the banks of the Thames: and it just felt right.

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.