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"The album was created in this back and forth of snapshots - we made most of the decisions impulsively without much questioning. That takes a lot of trust." — Violeta García & Hora Lunga

"I'll Wait For You In The Car Park", the first full length collaboration between Argentinian cellist, improviser and composer Violeta García and Swiss musician and composer Hora Lunga, is a work of extremes. Drawing from the realities of life on two continents, and embodying moods ranging from stoic desire to violent bursts, the album enciphers so-called ordinary moments from everyday life into an alluring collection of musical scenes. Seemingly inconspicuous moments are condensed into a tale of synchronicity: colliding time zones and seasons, metropolitan rhythms raining down onto a glacier's ice field, exploring places through street view, the serendipity of loitering at a kiosk. As such, "I'll Wait For You In The Car Park" brings documentary film essays to mind that carefully observe the private and everyday occurrences.
Violeta García and Hora Lunga crossed paths by chance in 2023 and began discussing and sharing music shortly afterwards. What started as a loose exchange of ideas, sending back and forth sketches and demos between South America and Europe, grew into several studio sessions in 2024. Being sucked into a "quite extraordinary flow", the two musicians recorded, arranged and intervened on a level playing field, using the studio as a playground to record musical layers and interweave them with field recordings and audio notes gathered over the course of a year. Speaking a kindred musical language, they quickly realized how their ideas clung to each other like two familiar souls, complementing, intertwining and merging. From gauzy and eerie textures, musical miniatures floating through time, howling and screaming strings, to tumbling and thundering basses – the sound of the ordinary shapes a body that vibrates, writhes and breathes.

Violeta García is a cellist, improviser and composer from Buenos Aires, Argentina. Based in Spain, she tours a lot with her band Blanco Teta. She is a performer in many art forms, including free improvisation, contemporary and trans-media experimental repertoire in violoncello and electronics and collaborations with dancers, film makers and visual artists. After years of studying classical and popular music on violoncello and, later, contemporary composition and improvisation, Violeta has developed her own musical voice needed to emerge beyond outside specific genres.

Throughout Swiss composer and musician Hora Lunga's work, the focus lies is on exploring boundaries, both musically and in terms of performance and content. Above all, genre designations lose all meaning, as the music always takes place within a dramaturgically conceived overall framework. In recent years, his projects have ranged from pop music productions to experimental works and sound performances, as well astheatre and film productions. His ensemble WIRREN consists of up to fifteen performers.

Mint Green Vinyl. Graham Jonson is drawn to the comforts of melody and noise. How the two conspire in tension, tonally and atonally, stirring up memory and mood. This quality animates the technicolor world of quickly, quickly, the psych-pop project that emanates from Kenton Sound, his basement studio in Portland, Oregon. "Everywhere your eye lands, there's another curio to marvel over," noted Pitchfork's Philip Sherburne when he visited Jonson's recording space for a Rising feature just after the release of his "strikingly original" 2021 debut LP, The Long and Short of It. Since then, Jonson formed a live band, released his Easy Listening EP in 2023, and navigated the up-and-downs of a young musician, the sustainability of tours and relationships. While shaped by personal bouts and fallouts, his highly-anticipated full-length follow-up finds Jonson making music that's universal, open-ended, and rewarding, like great songwriters can do. He set out to make a folk album but couldn't help coloring it in with noise; a confluence of lush instrumentation and unexpected sounds. Ambitious yet intimate, hi-fi yet homespun, the idiosyncratic songs on I Heard That Noise curve around the contours of everyday life with warmth, wit, and dissonance.

To speak to Luca Daniel Schwarz aka LDS about his music is to be enthusiastically guided into a complex world of his own creation: clean and powerful techno which pulses with life from the textured patterns and drum sequences that have fills and accents that would make anyone who’s picked up a set of drumsticks envious. Yet this ecosystem of noise is deceptive; Schwarz’s process for making music is very different to how a live drummer would create the same subtlety of performance. Forever researching new technology, Luca got deeply interested in different programming languages, and created a series of probability-based music tools for manoeuvring sounds and sequencing.
Manipulating those probabilities takes a skilful alchemy, needing understanding of both musical structure and how the tools he devised work. To return to the drummer analogy, if the drummer is focussed and intentional in the moment of playing, then the method used in LDS tracks is almost diametrically opposed, with all of the intention coming in the assembly of the instruments, potential paths, and gateways; once play is pressed the music flows, following all the rules that were set in advance, not unlike a domino run or Rube Goldberg machine. And like a domino run, the results are fascinating and, ultimately, fun: staccato vocals pop in and out in ‘zipp prompt’; laser-like synths pulse; background noises sweep across the aural plane of the dub techno of ‘diff, blockmix’ and ‘pow’ adding texture that brings vitality all-too-easily missed out when complex mathematical
processes become entwined with music creation. The high sensitivity to texture and rhythmic detail in Stadion Progg is multiplied further on Jean Redondo's remix - whose track, Hypersonic, was the backbone of 2023’s ‘yet’ compilation on Tresor.
The balance between technology and a sense of fun might also come from the maker; it’s not easy to overstate Schwarz’s passion for what is now his favourite way to make music, “it never gets boring. There’s always a moment of anticipation to see what actually emerges.” And the true “power of 2” comes into play when the resulting music can be fed back through the system again and again, potentiating the music in exponential ways.

Edinburgh-based three-piece funk band High Fade are set to release their debut album 'Life’s Too Fast'.

Capturing the raw, on-stage energy that has been the driving force behind High Fade’s meteoric rise was never going to be easy, but that’s exactly what Harry, Oli and Calvin set out to do with a clear creative vision to record their album live at the iconic RAK Studios in London.

'We recorded in RAK Studios, with the desk built for the Rolling Stones in ‘76, with the same cigarette burns still on the faders. It instantly had a vibe of raw energy and liveliness to it that matched the way we wanted to record - live.' – Calvin

The result? 'Life’s Too Fast' – a blistering 10-track debut from one of the UK’s most exciting bands that manages to deliver the same tight, groove-laden funk rock that has put the group on the radars of Jack Black, Cypress Hill and Rage Against the Machine’s Brad Wilk, has seen them tour with The Cat Empire, and tick off iconic venues including Glastonbury, Jazz Cafe, and Boomtown Festival.

'We decided to record the album live rather than through the normal single track overdubbed method – we felt this would help to fully convey the band’s power, sound and energy across to the listener! More like we’re playing a gig and having it recorded – it was a tough process, but we went about it in the best way for both us and the audience, to ensure they’re getting the most authentic High Fade sound and experience possible.' – Oli

Having spent much of the last three years on the road seeing to a punishing tour schedule, 'Life’s Too Fast' is a chance for the band to stop and take stock, to reflect on their whirlwind success, and create an artistic milestone that demonstrates who High Fade are today. 'It’s the most accurate representation of what High Fade is, what we sound like, and who we are' explains Harry. Telling a clear story that matches their own experiences over the last few years, the album is a snapshot taken by a band who are accelerating towards real success and recognition.

'I’m glad we finally have a body of work that we’re proud of and feels like a collection of songs that nicely represents where we are right now. It’s organised chaos and shows that we like to play, but can also write a catchy tune.' – Calvin

Launching into proceedings with the effortlessly uplifting 'Take Me To The Floor', every track is a demonstration of the band’s technical prowess and broad sonic palette. A forward-facing selection of completely original material, the album also gave the band the opportunity to re-imagine fan-favourite 'Sharpen Up' as a stripped-back cut that reflects the band’s current lineup.

'Honestly, I kinda feel like I could explode with excitement about getting it out for everyone in the world to hear because it has been a long time in the making! A culmination of what all the singles have been working towards! I guess the album represents us and the direction we’re taking the music, it represents us as a trio and the gel that is High Fade.' – Oli

Flying Vipers record murky dubwise reggae on a Tascam 8-track in their basement bunker. Their love of Jamaican and UK 70's roots and dub is their north star, but eclectic crates of records and a couple decades worth of punk shows bleed through on tape. Twin brothers Marc & John Beaudette on drums and bass telekinetically lock-in with Zack Brines' layers of vintage organs and electric pianos in concise melodic meditations. "With ‘Off World’, their first full-length album featuring vocalist Kellee Webb, the Boston area band uses this foundation to explore the fight or flight of contemporary survival." While largely original compositions, three covers encapsulate the lyrical and musical themes found throughout the LP; an alienation anthem from Northwest punk pioneers Wipers; the theme from the cult classic animated film La Planete Sauvage, featuring the acclaimed jazz harpist Brandee Younger; and quite possibly the first dubwise Sun Ra tribute. Their own singles like "Believers & Deceivers" and "Jackals" confront the grim reality of modern culture, wondering if life in America, and/or Earth, is worth fighting for or leaving behind. Through it all the drum and bass is there, to help you hold your ground and to guide your escape into sonic space.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost as soon as Σtella Chronopoulou began writing Adagio, her fifth album as Σtella, she knew the time had finally come to sing in Greek, her native tongue. It would be a first. She started the record almost by accident in 2019, during an 11-hour boat ride to the island of Anafi. Σtella had recently gone through a patch of personal turmoil and needed a break from home. On the ferry, she pulled out her cell phone as the boat clipped through the Mediterranean and began with a simple melody, steadily piecing together a rough instrumental. As psychedelic keyboards twinkled and swayed above staccato drums, the track suggested some deep exhalation, as if Σtella were letting go of long-unnecessary baggage. For a spell, she set the instrumental aside. She wasn’t ready yet, or in a rush. Σtella, after all, grew up in a slow place. During her youth in a relatively rural suburb of Athens, Greece, she and her friends played unfettered in empty streets, not worried about cars or permission, and living felt easy. But in the last decade life has steadily become busier for Σtella, now based in the heart of Athens. She has become one of modern Greece’s most popular musical exports, with three sophisticated, playful pop albums rendered with international élan. After her Sub Pop debut, Up and Away, in 2022, she catapulted beyond three million monthly Spotify listeners. That success was a blessing, but Σtella sometimes found herself pining for the slower pace of her youth. That longing is the thread that loosely binds together her fifth album, the entrancing Adagio. Borrowing its name from the term for music that’s meant to be played slowly, Adagio is a pop record that feels like a very warm blanket, its nylon-string guitars and featherlight percussion swaddling its listeners for three minutes at a time. Written and recorded over the span of five years, with a consortium of international collaborators including !!!’s Rafael Cohen and British songwriter Gabriel Stebbing, Adagio is a 27-minute meditation on love and desire, rest and time. Though the bulk of it is sung in English, Σtella delivers her first two songs in Greek here—“Omorfo Mou,” the one that began on the boat, and a cover of a 1969 cult classic of the Greek New Wave, Litsa Sakelariou’s “Ta Vimata.” It is a sign of the self-assurance that radiates throughout these tender and smitten little tunes. Start to finish, Σtella sounds more at ease and comfortable than she’s ever been on Adagio. These fetching songs will not slow her career or grant her that title track’s wish. But, for half an hour, Adagio adds a measure of warmth to the world, with time loosening its grip even if it doesn’t slow down.● Athens, Greece-based Σtella’s new album Adagio is a pop record that feels like a very warm blanket, its nylon-string guitars and featherlight percussion swaddling its listeners for three minutes at a time.● Features Rafael Cohen and British songwriter Gabriel Stebbing.• Σtella’s breakout hit “Charmed” from her 2022 album Up and Away has nearly 100 million streams, and was recently featured in the hit Max show Industry.• On Spotify, Σtella has 3.4 million followers, 66k monthly listeners.

dreamcastmoe is the recording project of singer, songwriter, producer, and DJ Davon Bryant, a lifelong resident of Washington, DC. His music moves freely between moods and modes, hypnotic, romantic, traversing electronic, R&B, funk, soul, and hip-hop... Resident Advisor dubs it "soulful, cross-genre dance music." This ability to adapt and finesse, to twist in different directions while staying true and coherent in vision, can be traced to his home city and its complex cultural history. "Most Black kids in DC don't ever get to this point," he says. "This is what I am making this music for, in the DC tradition of soul and empathy and love that is rooted in this city. My music is for real people dealing with shit every day." A versatile, modern artist and collaborator, dreamcastmoe has thrived in the underground since his first uploads to Soundcloud and Bandcamp in 2017 and subsequent releases with labels like People's Potential Unlimited, Trading Places, and In Real Life Music. Bryant's laid-back personality, emotional honesty, and infectious energy shine through his work and how he talks about it, as Crack Magazine notes in their 2021 Rising feature: "a steady combination of confidence, creativity, and calmness." He grew up playing drums in church; he's worked dead-end jobs, had ups and downs, even sold off all his gear one time, but never stopped reinvesting in himself. He is quick to praise his co-producers, rattle off influences _ the visual feel of NBA 2K, the comedic timing of Bernie Mac, the savvy legacy of Duke Ellington, for starters _ and credit resourceful DC breakouts like Ankhlejohn that showed him the roadmap. His voice, a steady instrument, seemingly connects it all, capable of slow falsetto flow, swaggering talk-rap, and outright croon. His storytelling style is choppy yet fluid, like a mixtape, which is how Bryant sees Sound Is Like Water, his debut on Ghostly's International's freeform label, Spectral Sound. The two-part project culminates as a full-length LP release in November 2022. The first side, released as Part I, opens on the blurred beats of "El Dorado," which dreamcastmoe dedicates to his journey. It's a head-nodder, an off-kilter earworm co-produced by Max D (Future Times, RVNG Intl, etc.), with Bryant harmonizing hooks with synth jabs and a pitched-down presence. "Complicated" is the slow jam, delivered smoothly from a Saturday night crossroads. dreamcastmoe is contemplative and committed... gliding and locking ad-libs into skittering rhythms courtesy of co-producer Zackary Dawson _ but also willing to let something go, "acknowledging that everything in life IS NOT easy." "RU Ready" takes off from the jump as a tribute, challenge, and promise to his partner and his city ("The times you sat with me when I needed you the most / Told me the things that I needed to see / Young black man, really trying to be what I can be / And I'm really from DC). In its potent two-plus minutes, the sonics (co-produced by ZDBT) press the message, all cymbal crashes, breakbeats, and serrated synth lines. "Cloudy Weather, Wear Boots" is a blitzing dance-punk track made in collaboration with Jordan GCZ on Bryant's first trip to Amsterdam. The album's flipside opens on "Much More," the first of two synth-and-beat ballads co-produced by ZDBT. Later on "Long Songz," he claims, "I'm not writing love songs no more," prioritizing the vibe with "all my day ones." He calls it "a cry for more normal moments. Everything doesn't have to be a fantasy love story, more time spent getting to the money, growing, and making a way." He saves two of his most propulsive cuts for the finale, co-produced by Sami, co-founder of DC dance label 1432 R. As their titles suggest, "Take A Moment" and "Make Ya Mind" operate as anthems for movement, with Bryant free-flowing commands above wildly-styled percussion. Per Bryant, the latter is both "wake & bake jam" and a "dance floor bomb." His parting line: "Action / You got to show me action / Reaction." The world of dreamcastmoe straddles virtual reality and the realness of DC, images both imagined and lived-in. Bryant has a knack for unexpected melodies but what makes his music so exciting is his capacity to defy the expectations of genre and image. A fluid ingenuity and vulnerability bottled by Sound Is Like Water, and this is just the beginning.

Bells Are Ringing is the debut EP by Melbourne Funk 10 piece outfit Mondo Freaks, released following on from the single of the same name and a thrilling Dub Version by Harvey Sutherland.

Mondo Freaks formed originally as a concept band, equipped with an ever-evolving setlist of late '70s and early '80s Funk classics, their journey has seen them invited to be the backing band for the Australian tours of such luminaries as Leroy Burgess (the producer and artist behind Boogie and Disco favourites Black Ivory, Logg, Aleem, Inner Life, and Universal Robot Band) and the iconic Evelyn "Champagne" King. Having performed at the iconic local Meredith Music, Golden Plains and Panama festivals and at numerous residencies Mondo Freaks have carved their mark, returning now to ring in a new era of groove-soaked original music.

The band revolves around the rhythm section of in demand session bassist Luke Hodgson and drummer Graeme Pogson (GL, The Bamboos). Gathering some of the finest musicians from Melbourne's legendary Soul scene, they're accompanied by five incredible vocalists including Jade McRae, Susie Goble, Francisco Tavares, Aaron Mendoza and Jason Heerah.

New tracks on the EP include "Find A Way", which hits straight away with a percussion and synth hook, blending Jade McCrae's vocal delivery with an uplifting message about finding hope in trying times.

Also included is the Harvey Sutherland Vocal Mix of "Bells Are Ringing", which keeps much of the spaced out Larry Levan, Shep Pettibone re-edit approach that was on his much lauded Dub Version.

It's easy to see why his remix skills have been in demand and utilised by Disclosure, Khruangbin, BadBadNotGood, Tycho, Boston Bun, Lucius, Jungle Giants, Genesis Owusu and Franc Moody. On his own releases Sutherland has collaborated with the likes of DāM FunK and Nubya Garcia.Tightening its hold on the dancefloor, the beefed-up rhythm section rolls deep into the nocturnal hours, as mesmerising reverb loops elevate the track skywards.

Luke and Graeme got to know Harvey Sutherland when they played together backing Leroy Burgesson his Australian tour in 2018. After that Luke and Graeme played in Harvey's live band across the world and then contributed his 'BOY' album. "We were thrilled when he turned in his Dub of "Bells"", Luke said. "A kind of 'what would Shep Pettibone or Larry Levan do?' moment. It's like being transported to Compass Point Studios in '81!"

Mondo Freaks make Funk inspired by late '70s / early '80s era as it gently moved beyond Disco. That era has continued to inspire many artists, but what sets Mondo Freaks apart is their live instrumentation plus a focus on vocals and great songwriting, creating something beyond simply instrumental grooves.In the studio and in their full live lineup Mondo Freaks are a formidable ensemble who take their sound beyond mere homage, without a hint of irony or any knowing winks. Mondo Freaks simply breathe life into a timeless sound and make it feel more relevant than ever.

Soul music has always been in Paul Weller’s blood from early Jam covers of Martha & the Vandellas 1963 classic ‘Heatwave’. Along with other forms of music, soul found its way into Paul’s record collection, nourishing his ears and informing his own songwriting

We don’t need to recap a questing musical career from the Jam to the Style Council and then blossoming into one of the most productive and revered careers of any UK solo artist. Paul has written anthems, standards and a songbook that have always developed from his own feelings.

Whilst Paul has talked about his love of soul music he has, before now, simply been too busy to sit down and curate a collection of his favourite tracks and get it into the record racks.

Ace Records are honoured and delighted to finally release that Paul Weller curated collection which he has aptly titled, “That Sweet Sweet Music”.

This 2-LP set and CD open the curtains on 26 tracks that are some of Paul’s favourite soul records most of which nestle on vinyl in his own collection. He can still recall paying £70 for his copy of Jon Lucien’s 1971 ‘Search For The Inner Self’ 7” at a record shop in Leicester in the 90s. Some of these tracks are soul classics like James Carr’s 1966 ‘Pouring Water On A Drowning Man’ and Brother to Brother’s brilliant take on Gil Scott Heron and Brian Jackson’s ‘In The Bottle’ from 1974. Others are deliciously obscure wonderous gems like the A-side of Blackrock’s sole 1971 single ‘Blackrock “Yeah, Yeah”’, ‘Life Walked Out’ from the same year by the Mist or Syl Johnson’s ‘Black Balloons’ taken from his 1970 album “Is It Because I’m Black?”.

There are plenty of big vocal hitters such as Darrell Banks, Spinners, Joe Simon, O.C. Smith, the Dells and Betty Davis. Whilst the core is vocal soul the music does branch out with Paul selecting a wicked instrumental from the flipside of the Isley Brothers’ ‘Twist & Shout’ from 1962 and the funky jazz of the Headhunters ‘God Made Me Funky’, the A-side of their first 1975 seven-inch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My Boy, the third solo record from New Zealand singer/ songwriter Marlon Williams, announces an artist emerging anew. Gone is the solemn, country-indebted crooner with the velvet voice - in his place comes a playful, shapeshifting creature. Following the release of his second album, 2018's Make Way For Love, Williams' toured the world, playing major festivals and collaborating with Lorde, Yo-Yo Ma and Florence Welch. He also forged a fledgling acting career with roles in films The True History of the Kelly Gang and Netflix series Sweet Tooth, as well as a cameo in Oscar winning film A Star Is Born. My Boy parlays this flush of worldly experience into a vivid record as spirited and kinetic as the unfolding life of its performer. "I've always explored different character elements in my music," says Williams. "And the more I get into acting, the more tricks I'm learning about representation and presentation. To get braver and bolder with exploring shifting contexts and new ways of doing things." As the pandemic paused global travel, Williams found himself at home in New Zealand, reconnecting with family and friends. Soon new demos and lyrical themes emerged: of self-identity and escapism; tribalism and a gnarled family tree; and ruminations on the role of masculinity and mateship. Co-produced with Tom Healy and recorded at Roundhead Studios in New Zealand, My Boy finds Williams' leading a new band through a set of genre-hopping tunes: from the cheery sway of `My Boy' and chugging `80s noir sheen of `Thinking Of Nina', to the charging synth of `River Rival', and the sultry pop jam `Don't Go Back.' All this sonic and emotional whiplash is intentional, and ultimately My Boy sees Williams having fun, even while interrogating the behaviors of himself and those around him.

My Boy, the third solo record from New Zealand singer/ songwriter Marlon Williams, announces an artist emerging anew. Gone is the solemn, country-indebted crooner with the velvet voice - in his place comes a playful, shapeshifting creature. Following the release of his second album, 2018's Make Way For Love, Williams' toured the world, playing major festivals and collaborating with Lorde, Yo-Yo Ma and Florence Welch. He also forged a fledgling acting career with roles in films The True History of the Kelly Gang and Netflix series Sweet Tooth, as well as a cameo in Oscar winning film A Star Is Born. My Boy parlays this flush of worldly experience into a vivid record as spirited and kinetic as the unfolding life of its performer. "I've always explored different character elements in my music," says Williams. "And the more I get into acting, the more tricks I'm learning about representation and presentation. To get braver and bolder with exploring shifting contexts and new ways of doing things." As the pandemic paused global travel, Williams found himself at home in New Zealand, reconnecting with family and friends. Soon new demos and lyrical themes emerged: of self-identity and escapism; tribalism and a gnarled family tree; and ruminations on the role of masculinity and mateship. Co-produced with Tom Healy and recorded at Roundhead Studios in New Zealand, My Boy finds Williams' leading a new band through a set of genre-hopping tunes: from the cheery sway of `My Boy' and chugging `80s noir sheen of `Thinking Of Nina', to the charging synth of `River Rival', and the sultry pop jam `Don't Go Back.' All this sonic and emotional whiplash is intentional, and ultimately My Boy sees Williams having fun, even while interrogating the behaviors of himself and those around him.

Showcasing whip-smart spikiness remains, and a gorgeous weirdness
matched by very few others, it's easy to see why wonk pop 7-piece KEG are
one of the most talked about bands of 2024
Soon they'll be THE band of 2025.
Their forthcoming debut album Fun's Over represents the culmination of KEG's initial
forays into life, and as such leaps all over--from the melodic to the demented with all
the enthusiasm of a very lively bean salad. Sharp angling guitarwork that would be at
home both on a Fugazi or a Wilco record. Cascading synths and drums, pepperings of
trombone and lyrics which invite you into a baffled man's brain full of joy and anxiety.
Contrary to the previous releases the album takes its time, allowing Keg to showcase
the orchestral leanings of the band, melding textures and battering- ram rhythms,
whilst all the time managing to hone their carefully manipulated balance of chaos and
order.

2025 marks the return of Cologne-based electronic outfit Urban Homes with their first new music in over eight years, following an unintentional hiatus driven by side projects, relocations, the pandemic, and the unpredictability of »life.« After over eight years, the duo is back with their first new material: a fresh batch of purely instrumental downtempo and dub-influenced tracks, marked by a somber and atmospheric vibe that distinctly separates this new material from their previous work. Inspired by themes of extraterrestrial life and the paranormal, the four new tracks compiled on the »U.F.O.« EP release were crafted during recording sessions split between Cologne and Berlin before languishing for years on neglected hard drives, finally »ripening« into their current form.

Formed in 2008, Urban Homes initially emerged as a post-punk group, debuting live in 2009. Their first release—a four-track demo tape recorded in late 2010—already hinted at an evolving sound that would soon embrace a more experimental and electronic direction. By 2011, the band swapped their live drums for a drum machine, a shift that would profoundly shape their sound in the years to follow. Over the years, Urban Homes has explored a broad sonic landscape, merging electronic production, rhythm-driven compositions, and experimental song structures. Drawing influences from early house, balearic, disco, dub, avant-garde electronica, and pop, their music continues to defy easy categorization.

In March 2013, the duo released their debut album »Centres«, earning the Pop NRW Prize for Best Newcomers that same year. Their 2016 follow-up, »Jams«, was met with critical acclaim. A love letter to dance music's roots, Jams fused pop sensibilities with open-ended experimentation, built from years of MIDI-driven jam sessions that were painstakingly edited and reconstructed. Both released by Altin Village & Mine, »Jams« was also licensed by the Japanese label Fennely / Moorworks for an exclusive CD edition in 2017. Over the years, Urban Homes supported their releases with numerous tours and festival appearances across Germany and a memorable tour of Japan in 2017.

After the release of their highly successful self-titled album in summer 2021 (#1 in Germany and Spain etc.), HELLOWEEN -- one of the most respectable German metal exports and pioneers of German melodic speed metal -- are finally bringing their new anthems to the packed arenas, leading them all around the globe with their »United Forces« tour. The creators of the albums »Keeper Of The Seven Keys, Pt. I & II« (87‘/88‘), which are considered to be among the most successful German metal records of all time and are reckoned internationally as absolute milestones of power metal, haven’t only cemented but even expanded their status as giants of the scene. Caused by the pumpkinheads‘ aforementioned triumphant wave of success, the group’s back catalogue albums are also more in demand than ever which is why Atomic Fire are now set to release a series of brand new vinyl editions including the following hot HELLOWEEN records: »The Dark Ride« (2000), »Rabbit Don’t Come Easy« (2003), »Keeper Of The Seven Keys - The Legacy« (2005), »Gambling With The Devil« (2007), »Straight Out Of Hell« (2013), »My God-Given Right« (2015), and last but not least their latest offering »Helloween« (2021).

Yellow & Black Vinyl. "The first three are innocent in a way, because we didn't have an audience when we were making them," Oberst says. "But from Lifted on, I was definitely aware of an audience. Lifted was well-received right away, and then everything happened with Wide Awake and Digital Ash." Those two albums came out simultaneously. And their lead singles - "Take It Easy (Love Nothing)," from the austere, remote Digital Ash, and "Lua," from the warm, folky Wide Awake - debuted in the top two slots on the Billboard Hot 100. "First Day of My Life," also from Wide Awake, would later be voted the Number One love song of all time by NPR Music's reader's poll.Bright Eyes had officially broken through. It was a heady, exciting time, but also fraught and tense, both because of the band's careening new fame, and because of the state of the world. When Bright Eyes made their Tonight Show debut in 2006, they chose to perform none of their shiny new hits, instead delivering a searing, harrowing rendition of their caustic anti-Bush anthem, "When The President Talks To God."These days, Oberst is still amusing himself by messing with the extremes Bright Eyes baked into this era's releases, extremes that reflected the polar, with-us-or-against-us, fractious feel of the times. The reworked Digital Ash tracks, originally so clean and elegant, are, on the companion EP, full of "harmonica and mandolins - folky vibes," Oberst says. While the analogue sweetness of the Wide Awake songs have been put through a detached nihilism filter.

"The Original Soundtrack Recording of “Hair” (1974), is the music score from the film adaptation of this famous Broadway musical from the late 60’s, originally written and later adapted for film, by Galt MacDermot. The soundtrack includes the #1 hits ""Aquarius/Let the Sunshine In,"" ""Good Morning Starshine"", and the title song ""Hair"". “Hair” (OST) is available as a limited edition of 1500 individually numbered copies on magenta coloured vinyl."

Loyle Carner will release his highly anticipated sophomore record, 'Not Waving, But Drowning' on 19 April via AMF Records.

'Not Waving, But Drowning' follows Loyle's BRIT (Best Male, Best Newcomer) and Mercury Prize nominated, top 20 debut 'Yesterday's Gone'. The bedrock of honest and raw sentimentality that you heard on 'Yesterday's Gone' left an inextinguishable mark on music in general and UK Hip Hop in particular, standing out as an ageless, bulletproof debut.

'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's new album, gives yet more evidence - as if it were needed - of his razor-sharp flow and his unique storytelling ability. Yes, he can rap, but he allies that with the sensitivity of a poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, 'a woman from the skies', and he's moving out.

It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator.

Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Yotam Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. 'Ottolenghi' the first single from the album was featured on the BBC Radio 1 B-list, BBC 6 Music A-list and has already been streamed over 5 million times.

Loyle refers to real life for everything, the title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving, But Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend Rebel Kleff after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead.

Loyle also has his own personal black consciousness movement. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). With no real emotional ties to his biological father, but a deep connection with a deceased step-father, where does a young child turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain on 'Looking Back'.

An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Kwes, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place.
Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or a society that lets so many down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. Loyle's 2019 Spring tour - which includes London's Roundhouse - sold out within 20 minutes of being on sale.

Not Waving, But Drowning



A rapper that raps about family is hard to find. The boys in the 'hood' tend not to be that interested in how much a 'brother' loves his mother, or how much he misses his dad, or even how much he misses his best friend. The boys in the 'hood' tend to be obsessed with the size of their cars, girls, bank accounts, and other personal 'possessions'. Loyle Carner's Mercury and BRIT Prize nominated debut 'Yesterday's Gone' (Released 2017), made it clear that he wasn't that kind of rapper. In fact, every time I talk to him about his work we talk about the world, and we tended to confuse ourselves by calling his work rap, poems, or songs, sometimes in the same sentence. They are in truth all of these things.



Here's some poetry.



Honestly I need them.

I hate them but I grieve them

I think I've finally found the reason

Trust

Like the fire needs the air.

I won't burn unless you're there.





'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's forthcoming new album, gives us yet more evidence, (if it were needed), that he still has what rappers call, flow, but he hasn't lost any of his story telling qualities. Yes, the boy can rap, but a rapper with the sensitivity of a true poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, (a woman from the skies), and he's moving out. He really loves the woman from the skies, but he still loves his mum, and so he reassures her that there is no competition, and tells her that 'She's not behind me or behind you, but beside we and beside two', his words. Or to put it another way, moving out without moving out. My words.



It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator. He says finding his own voice was something he always found easy. Although young, (in terms of a musical career), he has confidence in his own words and his own voice, and has never been tempted to sound like he's been hanging out in the USA, or rolling in 'Grime' on the mean streets of East London. And so when it comes to the creative process he doesn't simply find a beat to jump on and ride. Beats are important, but they are tenderly layered with samples, keyboards, or live drums, all imaginatively assembled for the laying on of words. Some tracks start with the idea, some with poetry, and some with a verse from a singer or some other melodic inspiration, but there is no formula.



Here's some poetry.



Don't hold any memories of us

Rather hold you everyday until the memories are dust

Yo we only caught the train

Cos you know I hate the bus





A prolific reader, who has dyslexia is hard to find. Add ADHD (Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) to that and life should become even more difficult. To deal with your difficulties you devise coping strategies, which can differ from person to person. Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. Loyle describes himself as 'weird' because he is happy to read a cookbook as if he was reading a novel or a book of poetry. He has opened a cookery school for young adults not just because he loves food and wants to make more of it, but because it is one of the few things that can focus the ADHD mind. And when it comes to his other love, football, his approach is the same. Focus. He wanted to be a striker he says, up front scoring goals, but found his best position was in midfield because he was able to focus, check options, and see passes ahead of time, providing passes for other players just when they needed them. He says, 'You don't grow out of ADHD, you grow into it.' Loyle is also working with Levi's® on their music project where he is mentoring young musicians over a six month period, culminating at Liverpool Sound City festival.



More poetry.



When the going is tough

I wait till it falls on deaf ears

Hearsay

Without the boundaries of love



He also said, 'Ask most people and they will say that they love their mothers, but most are not going to rap about her'. On his first album Loyle's mum Jean wrote about the 'scribble of a boy' that growing up would take things apart to see how they worked. On this album she speaks with pride about a man who has found his place in the world.



Yes, poetry.



I'm still looking for the answers

Trying to find the right questions

Still waiting for my fathers

But can't break them in to sections



This poetry is serious. Loyle has his own personal black consciousness movement. He told me that he always felt safe at home, and being the darkest one in the family never meant a thing, but then when he had to face the outside world he felt hostility. It shook him up. Now he had to start asking questions, but what were the questions. This is serious. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the verse above taken from the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). So to whom would a young black (or mixed race) kid turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain when he says, 'My great grandfather could of owned my other one.' We are a people descended from enslaved people on one hand, and enslavers on the other, something we are still struggling to come to terms with, and this can be apparent in one family. A big book could have told you that, but here we get it in one line on the track, Looking Back.





Loyle refers to real life for everything. The album is peppered with captured moments that he records on his phone. These moments can range from conversations with taxi drivers, to capturing the moment when England scores a goal in the world cup. The title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving but Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead. Yes people, this is real.



An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit, this is an album for those who have, (I'm sorry, I'm going to say it), emotional intelligence. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place. Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or the society that has let him down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. His first album worked, and this second album is a continuation of that work. Not creating a form, but being formless, as someone like Bruce Lee once said.

And here's some poetry from mum.



We talked long in to the darkest hours

Until we saw the burnished sky

And our eyes stung

As our words blurred and became thoughts

As we were silenced by the dawn

We clung to each other like sailors in a storm