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Saxophonist, producer and composer Brian Allen Simon explores darker hues, transposing waking and altered states under his studio veil Anenon. On the deeply evocative new album 'Dream Temperature', he shifts electronic processing to the foreground, introducing digitized wind instruments and unworldly atmospherics, not heard since his innovating mid-late 2010s output.

A longtime Los Angeles resident, born and raised, Brian Allen Simon has expressively operated under the moniker Anenon, releasing the highly revered 'Petrol' (2016), 'Tongue' (2018) and the viscerally beautiful 'Moons Melt Milk Light' (2023), in a line of unwavering musical dialogues. While the penultimate album was a deliberate, reductive, entirely acoustic detour that was born out of a want to unplug, 'Dream Temperature' sees Brian primed with a newly discovered wind synthesizer as his central compositional tool, alongside acoustic piano and tenor saxophone. The entirety of the album's electronics are triggered by Brian's lungs, generating otherworldly synths modulated by expressive breath control, channelled through the laptop as the core processing chamber for added textural components and field recordings.

A free floating and heavy emotional resonance marks 'Dream Temperature' from beginning to end, invoking the feeling of waking up, still heavy from a night of half-remembered dreams, and continuing one's day in this state. Simon maps out the album's spatial voice early on the statement title track, a deep, yet compact cut, generated from digital saxophone rasps that whistle by in close proximity, along with haze filled textures and sub bass. There is a sonic oscillation of urban grit and pastoral drift throughout as tracks pass by like introspective thoughts, fueling both a tense and ethereal quality that underpins the album. Interluding solo and part-solo piano improvisations 'Last Sun 1' and '2' are positioned adjacent to the buffering digital soundscapes. Their softer, still processed timbres pierce the melancholic exterior, offering a contrasting tenderness that could echo the grace of Ry?ichi Sakamoto, the spiritualist rigor of ECM's Keith Jarrett and a touch akin to Aphex Twin's piano miniatures. 'Nulle Part 1+2' signals the first appearance of an acoustic wind instrument, as tenor saxophone flourishes are juxtaposed against noisy drones, all shouting at the void, with notes resurfacing like lost digital data.

The album was recorded at home during either sunset or nocturnal hours between September of 2024 and October of 2025, a period in which Brian found himself craving more lengthy and intimate studio time as he searched for more pronounced textural qualities amidst his new sonic ambitions. 'When The Light Appears, Boy' shows further evidence of this deeper universe, revealing a grittier edge as the album's essential blueprint is sonically inked. A sprawling expanse of wind synths rhythmically encircle the listener before a dreamy, ghostly ambience blankets 'Toyama'. The sound is evocative of the productions of post dubstep era luminaries such as Burial or the productions of HTRK's Nigel Yang. More isolating and enveloping than the previous all acoustic record, this is music both disorienting and yet warmly inviting all at once. A sonic diarist at heart, personal field recordings were also taken from Sardinia, Japan, Big Sur and LA which intersect at unexpected moments throughout the album's 31-minute play time.

'Dream Temperature' is a vital coalescence of both Simon's electronic and acoustic practices with repositioned electronics akin to earlier works, both haunting and elegant, yet still profoundly personal. Simon continuously resonates as an experimental outlier treading an enthralling, non-linear musical path. This music resolutely glows with an unknowing aura, like an untapped energy source waiting to be discharged.

Yearly compilation series RADAR KEROXEN return with its sixth volume of theme-driven releases, continuing to chart the fractured sonic terrain of the Canary Islands’ undergrowth.

After digging through indie, psychedelia, shoegaze, and site-specific drone, Vol. 6 dives headfirst into the after-hours circuitry of the islas afortunadas, assembling a hand-picked selection of underground club mutations from five long-standing operators within the local electronic ecosystem.

If Vol. 5 was shaped by the cavernous resonance of Santa Cruz’s obsolete gasoline tank, Vol. 6 is fuelled by late-night club aesthetics and mid-90s hardware obsession. Opening the record, Dancelwerk — one of the archipelago’s early modular practitioners — delivers tightly wound structures nodding to Warp-era golden agefuturism and southern Tenerife’s rave boom. Cmos34 follow with their first-ever published material, injecting instability into the system through improvised techno rituals built on friction and feedback.

Jorganes drags the narrative deeper into hypnotic territory, stripping club music down to its skeletal pulse and channeling disciplined repetition and late-90s minimalism into austere, trance-inducing momentum. From Gran Canaria, Sunday German Flowers bends the mood toward cinematic dub: heavy low-end pressure, spoken word, and nocturnal atmospheres stitched into slow-burning club noir.

Closing the circle, Nico Hernández pulls the compilation back to volcanic ground with ambient compositions shaped by Lanzarote’s raw geological landscape — basalt echoes, tectonic silence, and island isolation rendered in sound.

As always, the release is housed in a post-tropical collage artwork by Pura Márquez.

Master by Daniel García
Artwork by Pura Marquéz

With the Hormesis EP, Alric Aerial explores the delicate threshold between pressure and growth. The title a reference to the biological phenomenon where stress triggers a positive adaptation serves as the conceptual foundation for a sound born from deep introspection.

It is a testament to the idea that resilience is not just about enduring, but about evolving through the friction.

In his productions, Alric Aerial weaves together personal and cultural fragments, bridging the echoes of his heritage (Tales From The Desert Part II) with a conscious departure from familiar scenes and habits (Good To Be Gone). This work marks a natural evolution a shift from the noise of the outside world toward a more refined, intentional focus in the studio.

The tracks strike a balance between "dirty" authenticity and infectious, groovy basslines. From driving, straight-forward rhythms to melodic leads, the work shifts between cinematic tension and uncompromising momentum. Especially in the title track, Hormesis, Alric’s vision culminates in the transformation of fragmentation into energy. The music invites the listener to find a new kind of presence within the act of disappearing to get lost in the pulse, only to emerge more resilient.

"Hayalet Kırıkları" unfolds like a diary of fragmented memories, where voices, textures and distant echoes blur into something both intimate and unsettling.
Hilal Can’s luminous presence meets Tzii’s raw sonic landscapes, creating a music that feels suspended—between memory and invention, absence and desire.
With the spectral violin of Ruben Tenenbaum, the record shimmers like a fragile world on the verge of dissolving.

BCUC – Bantu Continua Uhuru Consciousness – have been channeling the spirit of Soweto for over twenty years. Indigenous funk, hip-hop consciousness, and punk rock energy fused into something utterly original and deeply rooted. Their mantra: Music for the people, by the people, with the people. From humble beginnings rehearsing in a shipping container, a stone's throw from the church where Desmond Tutu organized the escape of the most wanted anti-Apartheid activists, they kept believing in their dream of self-empowerment. Today they command festival stages worldwide: Glastonbury West Holts, Roskilde, Afropunk Brooklyn, WOMAD, Fusion, Sziget, FMM Sines, Beaches Brew, Boomtown, Colours of Ostrava, Couleur Café – to name just a few. In 2023, BCUC were honoured with the prestigious WOMEX Artist Award, an accolade usually reserved for more established artists, in recognition of their fearless work and transcendent live performances.

THE ROAD IS NEVER EASY

The Road Is Never Easy is BCUC's fifth album and their debut on Outhere Records. On this new offering, BCUC take listeners on another Afro-psychedelic journey into the soul of Soweto. It feels like a gospel sermon colliding with a punk concert, "guaranteed to touch untapped corners of your soul" (OkayAfrica). BCUC's music is deeply rooted in history and echoes the voices of the ones who came before. The road was never easy for the people of Soweto who originally came to work in the mines of Egoli, the City of Gold, Johannesburg. When apartheid finally ended after a long struggle, it was hoped that life would improve. But more than 30 years later, many of those initial hopes and dreams are still waiting to be fulfilled. This album is about that struggle. The album contains 10 brand new songs – a record for BCUC, whose previous albums featured an average of 3 songs. It represents the culmination of more than two decades of performing together and building a reputation as a powerful live act. These ten songs encapsulate that same live energy, each one building gradually and drawing you into BCUC's Afro-psychedelic stream of consciousness. It's a seismic tour de force through life in Soweto today. Songs like Amakhandela (Breaking All the Chains) connect history to daily life: "How is this precious metal inflicting so much pain in us," sing BCUC, "this government has been telling us we are free, but we don't benefit from being free." The album also talks about all the hopes and dreams that remain: "I have too many wishes and dreams in my head," BCUC sing in Um duma khanda, "I think I am losing my mind". The album ends with the soothing Matla a rona ke Bophelo, "our strength is life", praising the spirits and thanking the elders for protection. The Road Is Never Easy is about the harsh reality of life in Soweto, where "people always carry heavy loads". BCUC are street poets trying to deal with that burden: sometimes revolutionary, sometimes soothing, but always hopeful and compassionate. "When you are from Soweto you can't retreat nor surrender." (Sebenzela)

RECORDING

The album was largely recorded in Munich, Germany during tour breaks over two sessions, each three days long. It took place in a small studio located in a German WW II bunker converted into rehearsal spaces. The songs were recorded in one take altogether in one room, with only a few overdubs added, mainly backing vocals, by BCUC at Fourways studio in Johannesburg. BCUC have created their own distinctive way of writing, or rather, finding and creating their songs. The recording process is like an improvised live performance. They bring their ideas into a zone where the music, the rhythm and the spirits take over until the song starts to form. In this Afro-psychedelic zone BCUC create their unique poetry that feeds on the dreams still dreamt, the hopes, the fears and the temptations lingering everywhere. BCUC's songs need to breathe and time to build. The right take was the one when the song took over, and just like their live performances, no one knew beforehand where the song would take them. During the recording, BCUC just let it all flow out: inner turmoil, cries of rebellion, but also resilience and a search for healing, love, unity and compassion. You don't have to be from Soweto to feel the deep meaning and impact of this music. In these times of so much hate and division, BCUC are like a campfire for people to gather around.

PRODUCTION & ARTWORK

"BCUC have a unique magic," says Outhere's Jay Rutledge, who produced the album. "It blew our minds. It's like punk and pure gospel at the same time. Their music can make you dance and it can make you cry, all at the same time. And when the song is over, you feel you're not alone in this world anymore. We felt compelled to do this." The album cover is based on a matchbox design, matches being a common household item in South Africa even today. "These were the matches people used to burn government buildings and cars," explain BCUC. Little messages, addresses, or phone numbers used to be scribbled on the back of these boxes; each one a reminder of the strength, resilience, and resistance that once drove the struggle for freedom in Soweto. BCUC keep this flame burning. The Road Is Never Easy is a heavy spiritual road trip, a deep dive into the subconscious of Soweto and a quest for truth, justice and sanity in this crazy world. BCUC tackle the harsh realities of the voiceless, guided by the spirit world of their ancestors. Rather than reinforcing stereotypes of poverty, BCUC's portrayal of Africa is one rich in tradition, rituals and beliefs. "We bring fun and Afro-psychedelic fire from the hood," says vocalist Kgomotso Mokone.

LS002 marks the first vinyl chapter of 20, Eitan Reiter's two-decade retrospective, distilled through key collaborations and remixes. Featuring Patrice Bäumel, Infected Mushroom, Shpongle, Red Axes, and Echo, this six-track release connects psychedelic heritage with contemporary indie dance and deep electronic aesthetics.
20 (Part 1) is a 12-inch vinyl edition featuring exclusive vinyl cuts, available only on this pressing. The selection reflects Reiter's ability to honor his roots while maintaining a distinctly modern sound,blending psychedelic foundations with cluboriented precision.

A1 - Eitan Reiter - Blue Planet (Remix) Vinyl Cut
The A-side opens with a spacious, atmospheric rework of Blue Planet, balancing restrained tension with melodic clarity.
A2 - Eitan Reiter - X-Vision feat. Echo Vinyl Cut
Echo's vocal performance anchors the track, presented here in a refined vinyl cut that enhances its emotional depth.
A3 - Eitan Reiter & A. Balter - E0E (Eitan Reiter Remix) Vinyl Cut
A driving, hypnotic groove where rhythmic focus meets evolving textures.
A4 - Infected Mushroom & Yahel - Electro Panic (Eitan Reiter Remix) [Vinyl Cut]
A confident reworking of a psytrance classic, reshaped into an 80s-leaning indie dance format.
B1 - Eitan Reiter - Eat You (Patrice Bäumel Remix)
Patrice Bäumel heightens the track's underlying tension with a slow-building, immersive reinterpretation.
B2 - Out of Orbit & Shpongle - No Disco (Red Axes Remix)
Red Axes flip the original into a dark disco framework, adding weight, swing, and late-night character.

LS002 presents a vinyl-focused snapshot of Eitan Reiter's collaborative output, with each track adapted for turntable playback.

Following his debut appearance on HABITAT in 2024 with his standout ‘My Eyes Are Failing’ remix, Echonomist returns to serve up his ‘Dominator’ EP - a five-track release that captures the Greek artist’s unmistakable tension, groove, and analogue character, paired with high-caliber remixes from Fango and Toto Chiavetta. With previous releases on Innervisions, Exit Strategy, TAU, and Kompakt, Echonomist has steadily built a reputation for fusing raw emotion with forward-leaning sound design. His prolific output and effortless ability to experiment with various styles have long made him a respected figure within the global electronic landscape. Now, with his ‘Dominator’ EP, he brings that creative force back to Mind Against’s imprint in commanding form.

Opening with the title track, ‘Dominator’ immediately sets the tone: bustling energy, driving drums, and siren-like synths cut through a deep, Detroit-leaning atmosphere. ‘Modulator’ follows with a pulsing, oscillating bassline and rattling percussive breaks that coil around warped vocals. On ‘Use Your Illusions’, the pace becomes chuggier as he combines raw industrial drums with a thudding kick, dubby chords, and fizzing synths. The package is then elevated by two heavyweight reinterpretations, with Fango’s remix of ‘Dominator’ pushing the cut into a more intense, pressure-driven space, upping the ante with amplified rhythmic density. To close, Toto Chiavetta delivers an electro-laden rework, sculpting the track into a dense, atmospheric journey that prioritizes ever-evolving groove and textural depth.

Echonomist 'Dominator’ EP drops via HABITAT on 10th April 2025.

Bristol's Tara Clerkin Trio return to World of Echo and the EP format for a five song collection of quixotic, emotional redolence. But do not mistake their absence for inertia. If their musical output has been a little sparse during those in-between years, limited to a few solo ventures and an astonishing ten minute long piece as a trio, their time has otherwise been richly spent: continuous writing and recording, extensive live performances across Europe and Japan, a cultivation of local and more far-flung artistic connections (musical and otherwise), and a monthly NTS show that, through the voice of others, speaks most obviously to their own unorthodox interests. It's the conflux of that winding activity that leads indirectly to On The Turning Ground, 26 minutes of probing, thoughtful composition that draws from no one specific source. Their inspirations might be centreless, but the trio still possess a very obvious anchor in the form of their hometown. Bristol stands as a city of multitudes, heterogenous and vibrant in such a way as to allow it to renew and remake time and again. Tara Clerkin Trio drink from that same well, duly reflecting a rich musical heritage built on fwd-facing electronic subcultures and experimental urges.

As such, On The Turning Ground finds them subject to their own subtle internal evolution, the pervasive sense that you've caught them mid-bloom, on their way to becoming but never anything but themselves. The two instrumental pieces that bookend the EP stand as a perfect case in point, displaying an increasing mastery of compositional space. Pensive and restrained, 'Brigstow' and 'Once Around' both emanate an interstitial quality that's not so much after- as in-between-hours, miniature dub-folk symphonies held together by the kind of tacit understanding that remains the preserve of only the closest of family units. If those two tracks are shaped by a sense of shifting temporality, then the three vocal-led pieces that comprise the record's core feel like a gentle ossifying of aesthetic into something approaching their own unique form of avant-pop. 'Pop' is, of course, a broadly subjective concept, but there's no avoiding the overt sparkling melodicism of songs like 'Marble Walls' and 'The Turning Ground', undeniable re-directions of that late 90s impulse to bend pop sensibilities into off-centre terrain, to render the familiar new again. This is what Tara Clerkin Trio do, gently pulling the ground from under your feet, turning you to face something you'd not quite seen before. To view the world as they do: sideways, sometimes, all of the time.

Geoglyph is the new duo project by Alohn and Khey Mysterio, a convergence of two deeply singular practices into a single subterranean signal. Their debut album arrives as the eighth reference on Organic Signs, not as a collection of tracks but as a carved artifact: six inscriptions pressed into vinyl, mapping a sonic territory where time, rhythm and texture are no longer linear, but layered like geological memory.

Through Geoglyph, Alohn and Khey Mysterio convey a message from below, or beyond. A pulse engraved from forgotten times in the basement of reality, reactivated by abyssal basses, vibrating layers and fractured textures. Exhumed from the subterranean strata where psychedelic dub, mineral techno and fractal dubstep fuse into raw energy, their music becomes a point of contact: every beat, every silence, every oscillation acting as a coordinate toward another perception. What unfolds is not simply sound design, but an invocation, rhythms as sigils, timbre as gnosis, signals that seem to arrive already charged with intention.

Across the album, Alohn’s guitar notes fall like cascades through the mix, dissolving at times into controlled feedback and crystallizing into melodic fragments that hover between tension and release. These organic gestures are interwoven with Khey Mysterio’s dense low-end architectures and rhythmic frameworks, creating a constantly shifting terrain: from weightless transmissions and ritualistic voices to moments of overwhelming propulsion where the music suddenly breaks open with tectonic force. The record moves fluidly between meditative suspension and explosive motion, never settling into a single state for long.

A strong undercurrent of what has come to be known as “druidstep” runs through the album, a term coined within the 95 Open Tabs universe to describe a form of dubstep untethered from genre convention, rooted instead in bass as ritual, in groove as invocation. Here it meets dub-techno pulse, psychedelic echoes and high-velocity 4×4 pressure, drawing subtle influence from underground bass cultures without ever becoming referential. The result is a body of work that feels both ancient and forward-leaning, cyclical rather than linear: a living geoglyph that reveals different meanings depending on how (and where) it is read.

As the final movement accelerates into its closing phase, the album releases its energy outward, with frequencies stretched toward their limits, leaving behind the trace of a completed ceremony. In this sense, Geoglyph’s debut stands as a defining moment within the Organic Signs continuum: a record that unfolds rather than explains, offering an experience to be entered, absorbed, and carried. With this release, the label continues to explore new sonic spaces, evolving and expanding while giving deeper meaning to its own essence. A message from beneath the surface, waiting for those willing to tune in.

Más de este género

The album opens with the ominous guitar-driven Hollow Sky, accompanied by its haunting music video's verdant vistas. The song, with Iceglass ghostly vocals, shimmers with that sounds like an Omnichord flittering like sonic firefly lights and brooding bass. This perfectly scores the less traveled wanderings through the dark wooden path of Dante's perdition, leading to the titular well that graces the album cover. The Crater opens with an unsettling riff and bass, with low, repetitive frequencies on the synth create a sense of unease. Here, Iceglass recounts a fatalistic requiem for the king of romance that is cataclysmic and leaves a scar upon the earth. With Fall Industrial Wall, once again, Iceglass channels a silky and Nico-like emotive deadpan; against a dirgelike melody backed by minimal synth, bass, and drum. Almost medieval and plaintive, with its folk droning horns, deep and shallow in their resonance. This song is anachronistic, setting the scene of ruins centuries-old with crumbling edifices strewn about like memories lost in time. With the poetic lyrics of The Chamber do we find the eponymous abyss. Here, dualities are laid bare; besides love, there is heartbreak, and without this sorrow, what meaning would there be to love if one knows not what it is to lose? This song encapsulates the idea that love is heartbreak, and love lost is reaching the deepest chamber of the heart. This is carried through a sombre horn, minimalist drum machine, and deliberate bassline overlaid with Iceglass german and english lyrics. The Well is led in with a softly distorted bassline overlaid with eerie banshee howls give way to Iceglass otherworld vocal refrain, echoing through time as if emanating from a hole in the ground, and encircling that hole is a garden of woe and despair. The sinfully seductive song The Moor features a captivating SAX SOLO courtesy of Perseas; a welcome shift in tone, juxtaposed well with the intensity of Iceglass tenebrous vocal purr. This hitherto unexplored foray into dark sensuality takes the song into sordid mid 80s territory, bringing to mind a dusky drive along a serpentine road, with equally haunting instrumentations straddling time with icy fire. Broken Characters is an acoustic folk interlude featuring Selofan's Dimitris Pavlidis on guitar. Here we find a more gentle approach with its earnest and romantic lyrics. The song's melodic hook is a soft caress along with the forlorn horn elements highlighting Iceglass at her most Nico-sounding vocal yet, singing the sorrowful truth that most artists are indeed broken characters. Chimerical opens with dirgelike synth organs. The chill of winter has befallen the lamentations sung by Iceglass carried by haunting chord progressions and minimal percussion, plaintively beseeching the song's subject to remain elusive, idealistic, and a dreamer. After an album highlighting more Jill than Jack, our male protagonist finally makes his ascent in the sonorous and breathtaking Dark Hill, a masterful march of sweeping synth horns, and trepidatious drum machine with William Maybelline's bellowing voice cracking like thunder, rattling the atmosphere like his heart against his ribs. Spirals swirls in a cautionary knell of cathedral-esque droning synth dirge, with Icarian lyrics shining like a sombre ray of hope; like the sun's rays creeping into the darkest of places. The song, minimalist in its tight percussion, echoes with the solace of Larissa Iceglass vocal litany; invoking elements of the supernatural, almost like a Casio preset sequenced to the beating of an angel's wings.

Embrace The Abandon is the new project by THE MON, the solo vision of Urlo, vocalist, bassist, and founding member of the Italian heavy-psych veterans Ufomammut.
Structured in two complementary chapters - Songs of Abandon (November 7th, 2025) and Songs of Embrace (March 6th, 2026) - the project tells a journey of duality: loss and surrender on one side, acceptance and rebirth on the other.
“
Songs Of Embrace” is the second chapter of “Embrace The Abandon”, expanding its emotional landscape rather than closing it.
Where the first part explored abandonment and loss, “Songs Of Embrace” focuses on presence, proximity, and the physical act of staying.
It is the answering breath, the inner voice.

The album avoids resolution and comfort, embracing slowness, repetition, and bodily tension.
It is not just music, it is a stream of consciousness, an inner search, a way of inhabiting what weighs without letting go.
While “Songs Of Abandon” is a collection of songs, nine tracks written in nine days, Songs Of Embrace is a continuous musical flow.
It is a movement that changes, grows, erupts, slows down, settles, and rises again.

It feels like the sea: calm and still one moment, then moved by a simple breath of wind, suddenly breaking into a storm.
“Songs Of Embrace” was conceived more like a ritual, a work of classical music, a suite.

Different parts unfolding one into the next, each a continuation of the previous one, finding meaning only as a whole.
The pieces are deeply interconnected, like embraces: some bring comfort, others carry pain.
These are compositions meant to be listened to in one continuous breath, allowing yourself to be held, rocked, and sometimes pushed away, just like in an embrace.

Welcome to the world of Edward Blankman, a retired dentist who wrote elegant, minimalist jazz in obscurity circa 1970. At least that’s the story.

In truth, Edward Blankman’s Cape Cod Cottage is the 2021 concept album from Echo Park composer Brendan Eder.

A tender, wistful follow up to 2020’s To Mix With Time, the Cape Cod Cottage sound evokes the spirit of Erik Satie, Miles Davis with Gil Evans, and Stevie Wonder, balanced with the accessibility of 1960s lounge-exotica. Eder’s characteristic arrangements are crafted to reflect the past, without losing the innovative quality of his modern ear.

Eder created Blankman’s story to channel his own grief, with bittersweet tenderness. Read the liner notes, and you’ll be transported to the quiet shores of Cape Cod, where a lonely retiree mourns his late wife, Natalie, with walks in nature and evenings at his Wurlitzer.

The story is brought to life with a meticulously crafted package sporting classic liner notes, faux 1970s photographs documenting Edward with the musicians (taken during the actual session), a make-believe jazz label, and a commissioned oil painting of Edward’s cottage. Eder spent over a year rendering the compositions and charts according to his vision.

Eder brought together a dream line up with a ton of chemistry for the project; drummer Christian Euman (Jacob Collier), saxophonist Josh Johnson (Jeff Parker, Leon Bridges), and bassist Alex Boneham (Billy Childs), who all studied together at the Hancock Institute of Jazz. Rounding out the group is flutist Sarah Robinson, a recurring player in Eder’s ensemble, and Edward Blankman (Brendan) on the Wurlitzer.

The cast was booked for a single date with coveted engineer Michael Harris (Kamasi Washington, Angel Olsen, Fleet Foxes) at famed Electro-Vox Recording Studios. To create realism for Edward’s story, the charts were purposefully withheld from the musicians until they arrived at the studio. The result is an authentic and natural performance delivered by players at the top of their game, captured on pristine vintage equipment including the legendary Neve-8028 console.

Audaciously innovative sound designer/producer/live artist Enrico Sangiuliano reaches #0 in his countdown from ‘NINETOZERO’ on his eponymous ephemeral imprint, triggering its built-in autodestruct by the release of provocative 3-track EP ‘Absence’, out March 19th on vinyl & digital. The digital EP will also feature an Edit of ‘Step Into The End’.

The Italian tech maestro and artistic pioneer eschews populism, yet still storms charts & wins hearts – notably/recently in his unsettling, compelling manifesto x battle cry ‘The Techno Code’. Says Enrico of his label, ‘NINETOZERO is a cycle of listening, making, and letting go. Born from silence, shaped by space, directed by reflection, altered by change, revealed by glitch, unified through interconnection, lifted toward transcendence, refined by discipline, clarified by chaos, and finally returned to absence.’

On his ‘Absence’ EP: ‘With ‘Absence’ we come full circle, back to the womb of nothingness but charged with the echo of everything we have experienced. It is an ending, yes, but also an invitation. A new kind of silence is born, shaped by the memory of every frequency we unleashed.’ Enrico Sangiuliano can thrill listeners with his music, but dares to challenge, to trust them.

Main track ‘Step Into The End’: a full-on barrage of trustworthy techno danceability & energy, bookended by soulful violin, high horns & sirens, with spoken incantations as if summoning to a sacred rite. A ten-minute timeless dance track as ‘all we’ve learned converges into a single point where presence & silence merge.’

Title track ‘Absence’: The (Techno Code-esque) Voice speaks of sound, space, absence, trace... the track’s background noise is the almost- silence of his studio ‘through a magnifying glass’.. His breathing can just be heard in the recording. Melodic, beautiful, free-form chords in the middle section act like a breakdown in reverse. ‘A provocation, a track of silence, incidental noise. A tale of a story that just finished, but also a background for a story to be shaped. No one is intentionally performing for us. Here, the responsibility and work of listening is on you, to figure out what you can hear and what to make of it, to craft your own soundtrack based on the sounds that surround you, beyond the track. You can perform your own version yourself. Close your eyes and just listen. Engage with your environment. Be present. Expand your senses. Enjoy absence.’

‘The Aftermath’: a 40-second provocative coda. A snatch of stirring conversation signing off the EP and label alike. What will be launched post-zero by Enrico Sangiuliano? Watch this space, this absence.

For here lies one of the most influential bands in the realm of gothic metal, a group with doom and death metal roots that has flourished for over three decades, boasting thirteen albums that have garnered devoted acclaim. This injustice is now being set right by The Circle Music , beginning with the vinyl release of the classic album "Burning: A Wish", which emerged twenty-four years ago. "Burning: A Wish", released in the twilight of the year 2001, stands as a dark reliquary of dreams lost to the velvet fog of melancholy. To revisit it now, two dozen years later, is to unseal a time capsule of gothic ache, doom- laced longing, and the tormented tenderness that only Lacrimas Profundere could conjure at their creative height. It was a candle-lit corridor between worlds. A slow fall into velvet shadows. A scream muffled by rain.

By the time "Burning: A Wish" was released, Lacrimas Profundere had already begun to evolve from their early death- doom origins, shaping their identity with the sophistication of seasoned mourners. The death growls had receded, replaced by the haunted, baritone croon of Christopher Schmid, whose voice is an echo from a chapel ruined by time. Yet, while the growls faded, the emotional gravitas remained intact, transmuted into melody, into baroque gloom, into something more sorrowfully refined. Produced with lush, theatrical clarity, the album never drowns in its own atmosphere, it breathes with it, moves with it. The soundscape is dominated by somber guitar textures, languid tempos, and subtle orchestral touches. From the very first notes, it is clear that this is music for ruined lovers and moon-drenched graveyards.

This is the hallmark of Lacrimas Profundere 's style: an emotional minimalism that does not explain or elaborate, but merely opens wounds and lets them breathe. That this album has remained, until now, absent from the warm embrace of vinyl is both tragic and oddly poetic. For what format better suits a record such as this than the one that cracks and hisses like an old seance? Vinyl is tactile, intimate. It requires attention, reverence. To place Burning: A Wish on a turntable is to light a candle in the dark.

Eight years have passed since 8 regards obliques, the album in which Jaumet reinvented his spiritual jazz classics, letting them drift into other dimensions. Since then, an intense tour alongside Thomas de Pourquery and a new recording adventure with Zombie Zombie have taken him on the road. Yet it is in the inspiring calm of his brand-new studio in Bagnolet that he found the material for Du cortex à l’iris, his new album recorded for his label Versatile Records. Du cortex à l’iris continues this delicate balance that defines Jaumet’s signature: a constant tension between hypnotic abstraction and an almost animal groove. "To reduce the distance between my cortex and my senses, in order to compose mental images with sounds," he says. This intention runs through the entire album: a desire to make people dance, yes, but with echoes of EBM, bursts of cinematic landscapes, and that singular way of slowly inducing trance rather than declaring it. Saxophone, synths, analog drum machines: the arsenal remains familiar, but the approach is even more direct. Playing fast, composing in the moment, letting the hand run before the mind corrects. Capturing something primal, spontaneous, almost raw – as if the sound were really passing, this time, directly from the cortex to the iris.

Das bisschen Totschlag’s new LP 0dB Headroom drifts through a cathartic kind of vulnerability—telling stories of losing, larking, and feeling everything all at once. Its soundscape echoes the act of remembering: manipulated samples and floating guitars bent through distorted electronics embody memory not as a fixed archive, but as something alive: tender, fractured, shifting. Moments come back in flashes—sometimes radiant, sometimes aching, always familiar, yet blurred and distorted. A beautiful mess that you can’t ever fully capture.
(FFO: Alex G, Wednesday, Maria Somerville)

World Of Echo announces the reissue of two remastered albums by Japanese guitarist and songwriter Naoki Zushi, 1988’s Paradise, and 2005’s III. Two classics of Japanese psychedelia, both Paradise and III were originally released on Org Records, the imprint of Shinji Shibayama of acid-folk group Nagisa Ni Te, with whom Zushi has guested on second guitar for decades. Both intimate and expansive, rich with revelatory songwriting and blasted, sky-scouring guitar, these reissues return these albums to print for the first time since the 2000s. It’s the first time III has been officially released on vinyl, with an extra, previously unreleased track, “Under The June Moonlight.”

Recorded in Kyoto’s Townhouse Studios in mid 1987 and released in limited-to-500 vinyl pressing in 1988, Paradise emerged from a scene in Kansai, Japan that was embracing the idiosyncracies of 1970s singer-songwriters, the soaring solos of early seventies psychedelia, and the DIY impulse of 1980s post-punk. While Zushi’s musical history stretched back to the early eighties – he was a founding member of Jojo Hiroshige’s noise outfit Hijokaidan – he found his feet with groups like Hallelujahs, whose dream-pop collection Niku O Kuraite Chikai Wo Tateyo was recently reissued by Black Editions, and Idiot O’Clock.

Paradise appeared two years after that Hallelujahs album and share much the same membership – Zushi’s backing band on several of the songs includes Shibayama on drums and Ken-Ichi Takayama (aka Idiot) on electric guitar, though just as often, Zushi plays all the instruments himself. The coordinates here are wide-reaching – you can hear the volume and intensity of Neil Young & Crazy Horse (on “Hallelujah: Left Side” and “Paradise: Midday”), the slow-motion magic of Galaxie 500, the idiosyncratic spirit of The Only Ones, all mixed up with tender guitar miniatures and stumbling garage-psych-pop moves.

Seven years later, after the transitional album Phenomenal Luciferin, Zushi released III. Perhaps his masterpiece, it’s already been bootlegged on vinyl, but this reissue is the real deal. The album was recorded at Studio Nemu over seven years, and sees Zushi backed by Shibayama (bass) and Masako Takeda (drums), his erstwhile bandmates in Nagisa Ni Te. By this stage, Zushi had started to really stretch out, and many of the songs on III swoon languorously, taking their sweet time to say what they need to say. It’s rich with lovely, melancholy songs, in a similar realm to bandmates Nagisa Ni Te, of course, but you can also hear traces of everything from Syd Barrett’s The Madcap Laughs, through seventies private press loner folk, to the slow-burn meanderings of the likes of early Low or Damon & Naomi.

When interviewed by Shibayama in the mid-nineties, Zushi said of Paradise, “it was a sort of collection of songs that had meant something to me up to that point… it was my paradise. I wanted to create paradise.” That’s something Zushi achieves on both of these albums – visionary Japanese psychedelia, en route to paradise. - Jon Dale

2026 Repress

Melbourne’s DJ Ali is up next on Blue Hour Music with a powerful EP of fast percussive tribal groovers recorded live over multiple hardware sessions. ‘Interceptor’ kicks off the record with energising and rolling momentum laced in echoes of shamanic ritual. ‘Paradox Cell’ maintains the tension with a stripped back and pumping drum track enhanced by repeating tones and swirling winds that suddenly take over. On the flip ‘Nightwatch’ feels even more immersive, tunnelling down into hypnotic chambers where a voice guides and pulls the listener through a lucid void. ’Regeneration’ rounds up the record with an uplifting journey that begins to unfold with a series of shifting layers and hints of colour beneath a haze of euphoria.

French artist Trypheme debuts on Impatience with “Odd Balade”, a darkly-hued collection of songs drawn from human delicacy and dreamworld mythology.

“Odd Balade” is Trypheme’s most ambitious and boldest record to date - both lyrically and musically. The album’s thirteen tracks resist rigid genre boundaries and flutter from medieval folk realms, sprawling synths, gothic 80s wave, leftfield pop, haunted vocals, mutant electronica to reverbed guitars - all reflected through her own shadowy prism. Especially album closer “A Walk In The Vercors” evokes a soothing serenity that echoes the sonic balm of Julee Cruise.

Trypheme’s musical repertoire trends heavily electronic and somewhat abstracted, but on “Odd Balade”, the artist slips into the role of the modern troubadour with a shift to a more poetically and personal songwriting that is infused with symbolism and dreamlike fantasies. The connective tissue of the album is the audacity to love and the vulnerability that ensues. As intimate and introspective as the lyrics are, the themes remain universal and human to the core: the fear of losing a loved one, the melancholia of leaving places and t“the fear of losing a loved one, the melancholia of leaving places and the cycles of life. The record was largely composed in Chars, stirred by the French village’s eerie atmosphere and frequent trips to the seaside in Brittany, where Trypheme resides. Drawing inspiration from the rugged terrain of the seaside landscapes, the writings of Allen Ginsberg and Mark Fisher and the hyperrealist art of Scott Prior, Trypheme uses her songs to depict life with broad strokes of rhythm.

On “Odd Balade” Trypheme consolidates herself as a gifted, nimble songwriter, masterly producer and subtly powerful vocalist. The record combines her skill for crafting lush, alien sound worlds and efficient, alluring arrangements with stealthily devastating songs. Belin’s voice becomes a key ingredient, appearing on eleven of Odd Balade’s thirteen tracks, by turns heavily manipulated, sampled and replayed as a form of percussion, or basically bare.

“Odd Balade” is the manifestation of Trypheme’s roving artistic practice, a ceremonial-grade sacrament cast in a rich nocturnal glow. Pairing the mundane with the mythic, the album stays true to its core: odd and strangely familiar.

RIYL - Riding off into the sunset to an unknown destination, hauntology, present, tales told by the fireside, hot summer rain, adventures, to feel a warm presence when you are walking in the forest or in the mountain, coastal landscapes, sailor’s stories, slow motion, vitesse, heavy blossoms, colors, the warmth of the sun, the tenderness of the moon, getting lost in unfamiliar streets, city’s lights, motorway rest area by night, magic numbers, rendez-vous, picnic, serendipity, poetry, the smell of old records and old books.

Tiphaine Belin has been releasing music as Trypheme since 2016. Odd Balade was written and produced by Belin, and mixed by Belin and Abel Roux. It was mastered by Amir Shoat. Cover art photography is by Ariane Kiks, with art direction by Ariane Kiks in collaboration with Mathilde Chaize.

For years, L.A.’s David Jasso and the UK’s Mike Vest walked separate but parallel routes through psychedelic noise rock—two genre outsiders pulling the music toward raw instinct, intensity, and sonic extremity. Their paths kept echoing each other, from their own projects and collaborations—most notably through their work with key artists in the Japanese psych underground—both speaking the same volatile language of improvisation and avant-garde abrasion. A collision wasn’t just likely—it was inevitable.
This ethos and commitment to raw, volume-overdosed psych rock led to this new collaboration. Rather than deliver the expected heavy psych freakout, they opted for something more direct and confrontational.
The result is Non Violence and the album “Lifted Curse,” a six-track blast of noise rock focused not on mysticism and psych tropes, but on psychological depth. The album rips through raw male emotion: fraternity, loss, carnal impulses, mental states. Jasso’s lyrics read like an unfiltered journal mid-burnout; Vest’s swirling, savant-garde guitars create tension with Jasso’s own guitars; and Sned’s rocksteady grooves form a fistfight of harmony and dissonance.
Together, this new power trio carves out a new sonic language—heaviness rooted not in posturing, but in realness and weight: fragility, weakness, and the human efforts forged to break out from it. Non Violence is noise rock with an unironic violent aim in the physical dimension—a new conversation in a familiar space, where vulnerability hits harder than distortion and conviction outweighs myth.
David Jasso — Guitars, Bass & Vocals
Mike Vest — Guitars, Bass & Mix
Dave Sneddon — Drums

Juegos Nocturnos is the new project from two essential musicians of the '80s Spanish scene, coming from iconic bands like Décima Víctima and P.V.P. In this new musical venture, they deliver nine guitar-centered, refined pop-rock songs that reflect influences developed over 40+ years, recorded between 2020 and 2022. Jesús Amodia (guitar, vocals, programming, and keyboards) was a founding member of the punk-rock group P.V.P., a band often compared to The Clash and other British acts of the era thanks to their blend of punk energy with Jamaican influenced sounds. The project also features Per Mertanen (bass), member of cult band Décima Víctima, known for crafting a very distinctive sound with echoes of Joy Division, The Cure, and other British post-punk groups. Now united in this new musical adventure called Juegos Nocturnos, they present nine guitar-driven, sophisticated pop rock tracks that showcase influences shaped over more than four decades of musical career, recorded between 2020 and 2022.

For their very first offering, Hanna & Robbie unveils a 5-track album making an ever possible encounter between psychedelic fractured grooves and mellow sci-fi haze in a divergent electronic shell. Planet42 carves a slow-burning path through severance and trance, a trip back to the subconscious like an escape or a sin, guiding both body and mind into unfamiliar exploration

Taking a fey look on electronic performance, where dubby-inspired and fractured rhythms tend to unveil ethereal ambiances, HR was born and raised in the emergent underground electronic French scene and started being moving targets in 2023 with a first live show at the Supercamp Festival happy few’s gathering.
With a mosaic of gritty textures, clubby breaks and otherworldly echoes in the lead-off project Planet42, Hanna & Robbie dives deep in this restless esoteric tension their identity is all about : an spunky early signal sculpting precise and intricate yet atypical tones revealing this crawling need of delivering unsettled arrangements and dreamscaped lines. Already in the move for their next in order work, it is settled in their experimentation lab that new doses of psychedelia and delusive resonances were written as an incipit to a future alternative live act.

A chance meeting in Mexico City set Points of Inaccessibility into motion. When Ibero-American composer Rafael Anton Irisarri crossed paths with Dutch media artist Jaco Schilp at MUTEK in 2024, a conversation about how technology shapes perception revealed an unexpected common ground. Schilp invited Irisarri to a spring 2025 residency at Uncloud, the Utrecht-based collective he co-founded, where Irisarri's sound began to take form amid an environment shaped by Schilp’s visual research.

The Uncloud studio was located inside the former Pieter Baan Centre, a forensic psychiatric prison where suspects of violent crimes were once confined. Its long history of silence and containment shaped the atmosphere in which the project developed. Within this setting, Irisarri coaxed long bowed-guitar tones through a network of pedals and looping systems. The raw gestures thickened into a vaporous and architectural field of sound. Schilp processed the material through a custom point-cloud software patch that produced images in continuous flux. The visuals flickered, dissolved and reformed like memories that resist coherence, functioning as a digital Rorschach that reflected the observer’s own perception.

Amid these spectral echoes, the project evolved into an examination of how the past persists within present signals. Memory endures as residue and interference, continually shaping perception even when its source has faded.

Schilp’s visual process required a continuous stream of sound in real time. Irisarri improvised throughout the residency, generating material that allowed the visuals to develop in parallel. Once back in his New York studio, he began shaping the recordings by carving pathways through the improvisations and mapping selected passages into MIDI. This process allowed him to build outward from the bowed-guitar material with minimal overdubs, adding Prophet 5 textures, Moog bass and strings that expanded the harmonic field while keeping the original performances at the center. To refine the structure, Abul Mogard provided editorial input, working with Irisarri’s stems to guide transitions and strengthen the overall pacing. The material, originally created under conditions of immediacy and constraint, evolved into a fully realized work through careful revision, patience and sustained reworking.

The title engages the geographic concept of the Poles of Inaccessibility, locations defined solely by their distance from all surrounding points. Irisarri adapts this idea to the conditions of digital life, where new forms of inaccessibility arise through the informational enclosures that structure perception. What appears to be a fully connected network often produces a deeper kind of separation, one shaped by the filtering logic of the systems that mediate experience. In this sense, the digital sphere mirrors its geographic counterpart. We inhabit spaces saturated with signals, yet the possibility of genuine contact becomes increasingly remote.

At its core, Points of Inaccessibility considers what can be understood as the new rituals of capitalist realism. Irisarri uses the term digital shamanism to describe the forms of simulated connection that organize contemporary life. These systems promise comfort through algorithms, influencers and AI interlocutors, yet they often reproduce the same conditions that generate loneliness in the first place. What appears as connection becomes the echo of connection, a sequence of gestures that imitate solidarity while withholding it. Like the geographic poles, these rituals are defined by distance. They pull us into environments where everything is illuminated, yet meaningful proximity becomes increasingly rare. In this sense, the work approaches a hauntology of the present, a reflection on futures that have stalled and intimacies that have been thinned by the algorithmic infrastructures that surround us.

This thematic tension unfolds across the album’s four movements. Faded Ghosts of Clouds introduces the work with textures that rise and dissipate in slow cycles, creating an atmosphere that resists clear definition. Breaking the Unison occupies a pivotal position in the sequence and focuses on the moment when the individual and the system fall out of alignment. Its shifting patterns trace the scattering of signals that once suggested connection, revealing the instability at the heart of contemporary perception. Signals from a Distant Afterglow forms the center of the album and features vocals by Karen Vogt, whose presence enters the sound field like a fragile transmission shaped by distance and delay. The closing piece, Memory Strands, follows motifs that appear, recede and briefly intersect before returning to quiet. Across these movements, the album outlines a landscape in which emergence and disappearance continually inform one another.

Listening to Points of Inaccessibility is an encounter with a sound field that is constantly in flux. Elements surface briefly, shift position and recede, creating a sense of motion that resists stable interpretation. The music moves between closeness and vastness, carrying traces of memory while withholding a clear point of resolution.

The album’s visual identity completes the project’s conceptual arc. In Mexico City, where Irisarri and Schilp first met, Daniel Castrejón transformed stills from Schilp’s point-cloud visuals into the cover image. The final artwork captures a single suspended frame of the digital material, a moment extracted from a field that is normally in constant motion. Its surface recalls the texture and abstraction found in the work of Catalan artist Antoni Tàpies, where material presence and erasure coexist within the same plane.

What emerges is a work that examines the tension between technological systems and human presence. Points of Inaccessibility asks whether connection is still possible within environments shaped by mediation and delay, or whether we have become isolated points within the very networks that promise proximity. What possibilities for relation persist within environments organized by algorithms and interruption? And how are we meant to understand presence when so much of it is constructed at a distance?

Points of Inaccessibility will be released on BioVinyl on February 6, 2026, with audiovisual performances planned throughout 2026.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu
Artwork by Jaco Schilp
Design and layout by Daniel Castrejón
Artist photo by Iulia Alexandra Magheru.

Mutable Ground is an album created through an exchange of recordings between Anna and Yannis. The project is rooted in the idea of sudden shifts in current events and the ever-growing emotions tied to loss, change, and tension. Each track title is inspired by unstable phenomena and objects, reflecting the potential for unexpected movement and the transitions of both nature and humanity. Repetitive, chaotic drum patterns, vocals that echo sounds of wounded or lost animals, hollow soundscapes reveal a sonic world where creation and destruction coexist—where people dance around fires, caught between fragility and resilience.

On Hungry Animal, Luke Temple continues to trace the invisible lines between the personal and the cosmic _ between what we feel, what we observe, and what we inherit simply by being alive. The album reunites Temple with Doug Stuart (bass) and Kosta Galanopoulos (drums), the core of his Cascading Moms ensemble, whose instinctive chemistry anchors the record's balance of rhythmic precision and melodic drift. Together they shape a sound that feels handmade and fluid, delivering sharp observations in soft focus. The album opens with "Clean Living," a tenderly libidinous groove, unraveling purity myths and self-discipline _ less a confession than a celebration of the futility of striving for perfection in a flawed world. From there, "Echo Park Donut" shifts into the memory of an unsettling vignette drawn from a violent incident outside Temple's Los Angeles home. The band moves with a quiet pulse beneath the story, suggesting both detachment and the surreal intimacy of fear. The title track, "Hungry Animal," grounds the album's broader questions: how well can we really know one another, or ourselves? Temple's lyrics circle around the idea that we are animals among animals, driven by instinct and affection alike. It's both playful and philosophical, one of the record's emotional centers. Temple's bandmates bring an understated mastery to these pieces. Stuart's melodic, infectious grooves converse fluidly with Galanopoulos's drumming, which breathes life into each song even as it gently propels them forward. The trio's interplay feels both weightless and deeply rooted _ commanding the listener's attention and empathy without ever forcing it. With Hungry Animal, Luke Temple and the Cascading Moms create a world where reflection becomes rhythm and consciousness gains texture _ a record of quiet revelations and deliberate grace.

Much more than just another punk band, Ideal Victim is a wildfire fueled by fury, grit, and defiance. Formed in Porto in 2022, this young outfit proposes a seemingly improbable formula that proves to be both unique and cohesive: over the raw, unyielding energy of 1980’s British hardcore, they layer the hypnotic vibes of surf rock and the nervous tension of rockabilly—crafting a taut and irresistible balance between atmosphere and aggression.​
At the forefront stands the fierce and outspoken roar of vocalist Mariana, supported by the driving cadence of drums and bass, and by a guitar that writhes as it drowns in distortion.​

Ideal Victim belong to a lineage of bands that never asked for permission to exist: from Discharge to Bikini Kill, from The Cramps to Dead Kennedys, their influences are undeniable. Yet, Ideal Victim refuse to echo them in exercises of nostalgia. Their music is urgent, combative, and strikingly current—a visceral response to the shackles of patriarchy and the open wounds of a world in accelerated collapse.​

Propelled by the impact of their demo Diary of a Pig and a considerable amount of stage experience, Ideal Victim now presents Rage Letters, a debut album that reflects the band's evolution through a set of six brief tracks—where nothing is left unsaid, nor unshouted.​
With Rage Letters, Ideal Victim extend us an invitation to insubordination—and it's one we can't help but accept.

For over a decade, Hyunhye Seo a core member of Xiu Xiu, in her solo work navigates the precarious edges where composition dissolves into pure gesture. Through ecstatic piano improvisations, restless percussive attacks and an expansive use of acoustic space, she constructs layered sonic environments that move across the boundaries of noise, avant-garde jazz, ambient and contemporary classical music. Her performances reveal an unfiltered process of listening and creation - a practice in which thinking becomes the enemy, and surrender the only viable strategy.

Continuation captures one such surrender. Recorded live at MAO - Museo d'Arte Orientale in Turin during the exhibition Rabbit Inhabits the Moon – The Art of Nam June Paik in the Mirror of Time, this cascading piano improvisation unfolds as a dialogue between performer, space and the particular acoustics of a museum built to house contemplative objects. Jamie Stewart processes the sound in real time; Giuseppe Ielasi shapes the final mix. What emerges is a work of charged immediacy - restless gestures giving way to passages of unexpected tenderness, noise and silence trading places in continuous exchange. The title is precise: this is music that refuses conclusion, that exists in a state of perpetual becoming. On Side B, Continuous Extension offers an unprecedented response. Phew - the pioneering figure of Japanese avant-garde music since the late 1970s - was invited by curators Chiara Lee and Freddie Murphy to reinterpret Seo's performance. Working with synthesizer and subtle processing, Phew distills the resonances of Continuation into a new electronic landscape - waves of abstraction that echo like reflections in sound, tracing the harmonic tensions of Seo's playing into territories she herself did not visit.

The accompanying booklet includes an essay by Bruno Lo Turco exploring the deep connections between improvisation and Buddhist thought, and a written reflection by Seo on her own practice of surrender and listening.

Continuation is released on Ubi Kū, the record label of the Unione Buddhista Italiana. The cover reproduces Avalokitesvara "Water and Moon" from the Museo d'Arte Orientale "E. Chiossone" in Genoa - the bodhisattva of compassion gazing at the reflection of the moon in water. Like that reflection, this music exists fully in the present, complete and unrepeatable.

Threewave is the complete synth trilogy from 36 and it unites three releases into a single, evolving statement shaped over five years. Spanning the Wave Variations, Symmetry Systems and Reality Engine releases, the project is rooted in self-imposed limitations and a carefully refined melodic palette that gave rise to a suite of interconnected transmissions. Minimalist sketches give way to warm, AI-era-inspired nostalgia, but always grounded by a distinctly human sensibility. Melancholic keys and glowing atmospheres balance precision with emotion before expanding into themes of perception, artificial intelligence and imagined realities. Together, these works make for a defining chapter in 36's partnership with the legendary Past Inside the Present.

Rhiza Semar presents its fourth chapter with Yildizlara, a four-track odyssey shaped from shadow, rhythm, and elemental texture. Crafted as both visceral tools and introspective journeys, the record navigates between ominous density and luminous release, guided by a deep awareness of space, myth, and matter. As an artist, Hitam paves the way for a new sound emerging from his burrows to build bridges between electronic subgenres while shaping a landscape unmistakably his own. Orb Weaver opens the cycle with jagged IDM rhythms that coil and release like threads of a web pulled taut. Originally composed for the graduation project of fashion designer Tim van der Plas, who's collection was inspired on climbing out of depression, its atmosphere is dark and ceremonial, with textures scraping against silence until catharsis emerges from the tension. A confrontation between inner turmoil and release. On Vanishing of the Anasazi, cavernous reverbs carry traces of lost structures, percussion echoing as if across ruins. A relentless drive holds the ghost of ritual processions, summoning a spectral energy that feels at once monumental and hollowed-out. The track suspends itself between presence and absence, architecture and collapse, leaving the listener in a space where echoes become the only surviving form of memory. Mesh Grip plunges downward into subterranean force. A thundering groove rumbles like minerals being unearthed, goblin-like figures at work in hidden shafts, chiseling away at stone in endless rhythm. From this pressure, a sudden swell of melancholy pads rises, reframing the heaviness with emotional resonance as if the whispers of angelic guardians seep into the caverns, transforming extraction into elegy. What begins as pure drive of endurance evolves into an introspective meditation. Closing the release, Yildizlara unfolds as an epic ascent. Layered rhythms rush forward with urgency, intricate yet propulsive, while chopped vocals bring back a sensual human element, scattering like signals across the night sky. Animalistic atmospheres dart through the mix as spectral cries and furtive movements, adding a primal dimension to the drive. What begins as erratic and untamed slowly converges into warmth and ultimate catharsis: a cosmic tale inscribed in sound, both intimate and monumental, familiar yet born of hidden memory. Yildizlara is both innovative and ancestral; a release where turbulence becomes ritual, and where rhythmic complexity unearths fragments of hidden memory. Beneath its dark and erratic surfaces lies a strange familiarity, like echoes of a primal past resurfacing through sound, reminding us of worlds once known but long concealed. Words by A. Veyra

Helsinki quartet Alder Ego, led by drummer/composer Joonas Leppänen, returns with their new album "III" on 9 April on We Jazz Records. A follow up to their successful 2018 We Jazz album, "III" finds Leppänen and his bandmates extracting more depth and punch out of their tenor sax + trumpet + double bass + drums setup, which echoes the greats in the game, such as Ornette Coleman, yet adds a readily identifiable edge to it all. Leppänen's writing is evolving, becoming more and more of a signature of the band and sounding delightfully angular yet easily flowing. On "III", Alder Ego features Leppänen on drums, Jarno Tikka (of OK:KO) on tenor sax, Tomi Nikku (of Bowman Trio) on trumpet and the new addition Nathan Francis on bass.

Kicking off with a key track introducing the band's deep sound, "Love And Maladies", "III" moves through a sonic landscape which is constantly surprising yet identifiable as Alder Ego guided by Leppänen's musical vision at all times. This is true even during moments when the composer himself steps aside, namely in the Tikka–Nikku duo cut "Impermanence" and Nathan Davis's highly memorable solo outing "Nathan's World".

The album's many highlights include singles "November Ghost" and "I Saw It In a Dream", plus the stunning closing track "Ephemeral", featuring Natalia Castrillon on harp.

Alder Ego "III" is available on We Jazz Records on as orange and black vinyl editions, digitally, plus as a bundle bringing together "III" and the band's 2018 album "II".

LP, Opaque Pink Vinyl, w/ download card

Mexico City’s Sunset Images emerge with their most daring and immersive work to date, Oscilador, arriving January 23 on Dedstrange. Known for pushing the boundaries of noise rock and psychedelic experimentation, the band plunges deeper into their raw, unrelenting sound—crafting an album that thrives in chaos, distortion, and hypnotic repetition.
Oscilador captures Sunset Images at a new creative peak: jagged guitars dissolve into swirling feedback, fractured rhythms pulse like machinery on the brink, and vocals echo through layers of reverb as if channeled from another dimension. The record balances intensity and atmosphere, offering both catharsis and transcendence. It’s a sonic free fall that feels at once destructive and redemptive—like watching a city crumble only to find strange beauty in the ruins.
The album title reflects the band’s fascination with constant motion and instability, the oscillations of sound and life itself. Across the record, Sunset Images embrace the extremes: minimal passages expand into walls of noise, meditative drones are shattered by bursts of primal energy, and every song teeters on the edge of collapse. This restless spirit makes Oscilador not just a collection of songs, but a visceral experience—one that mirrors the tension and electricity of Mexico City’s underground scene.
Joining forces with Dedstrange, Sunset Images step onto a global stage while staying true to their uncompromising vision. For fans of A Place To Bury Strangers, Sonic Youth, or My Bloody Valentine, Oscilador delivers the thrill of pure immersion—music that doesn’t just demand to be heard, but to be felt in the chest, the bones, and the subconscious.
With Oscilador, Sunset Images invite listeners to lose themselves in noise, distortion, and dissonance—and to find clarity within the chaos.

Loaded with tension and anchored by bold textural and stylistic contrasts, Sam Slater’s third solo full-length finds the British sound artist, composer, and engineer grappling with his creative contradictions head-on.

Having spent a life time in bands and producing records, Sam transitioned somewhat by accident through his work with Johan Johansson into working as a composer on high profile projects such as his collaboration with Hildur Guðnadóttir on the Grammy Award-winning Joker and Chernobyl, and with Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Mstyslav Chernov on the soundtrack to the lauded 2000 Meters to Andriivka. Having a vast set of interests and influences is an asset when helping realise a directors vision for a soundtrack, but one's own musical voice can end up being constrained. In Lunng, Slater has gone back to his wildly divergent range of influences and rather than shy away from the extremes, he's used them to create a singular vision.

Take the opening track “Heatsick”: Slater imagines an extravagant fusion of 2000s drone metal and vintage British brass, welding ear-splitting overdriven drones and blown-out choral vocals to stirring trombone swells from veteran player Hilary Jeffery. On paper, it’s hard to imagine—but Slater’s intentionality conducts these polarizing elements into a surreal blur of sonic extremes, with the guitars’ relative harshness softened by Jeffery’s eerily nostalgic colliery echoes.

His last solo album, I do not wish to be known as a Vandal (Bedroom Community, 2022), showcased this breadth by assembling a team of collaborators including Sam Dunscombe and Yair Elazar Glotman. On this record he’s linking up with acclaimed multi-instrumentalist Maria W. Horn, idiosyncratic sax virtuoso Bendik Giske, versatile percussionist Adam Betts, and the aforementioned Jeffery, Slater ushers these players toward a lattice of calculated confutations.

Working to explore the tension between the divergent practices of his collaborators—Lunng was meant to be challenging. On “Praya”, Giske’s familiar overblown horn phrases are almost vaporized, vanishing among Slater’s weightless synths and Horn’s chillingly hoarse vocals. There are traces of Horn’s Funeral Folk project, but Slater shifts the emphasis, letting her voice brush past the other elements like a hallucination.

Slater’s use of extremes isn’t just in the micro; dynamics drive the album’s overall flow. “Praya” sets the stage for the record’s heaviest, most prickly moment: “Passengers”. Here, Horn’s voice cracks, rasps, and gurgles over serrated synths and Betts’ ritualistic drums. Slater turns an industrial symphony into a folk opera—dark, dramatic, and strangely beautiful—etched with Giske’s fluttering phrases.

But the mood soon shifts. Slater careens toward chaos, unleashing double-time rhythms and piercing textures familiar to anyone with a soft spot for classic black metal. These grotesque incongruities are deliberate; Slater surveys years of musical conflict and leans in, using dissent as fuel to build kinetic energy.

The weight of sentimentality bears down on “Black Metal Rewind (Night Drive Astra, 2006)”, melting teenage memories into hypnagogic ambience—shoegaze dreams whirled with angelic choral delusions. On “Death by Nostalgia, 1688”, he ventures further into polarizing territory, distorting AutoTuned voices with cryptic strings and medieval tonalities, unsettling any stable sense of past or present.

In this record Slater focuses on pure energy, color, and mood. Lunng distills years of listening into a bracing brew—boiling each sound down to its essence, then serving it with unflinching intent.

John Twells, 2025

Yogg delivers the second release on his Polarized Future label, with four deep and sub-heavy cuts on ‘Don’t You’. Produced in his new Brussels studio, the EP channels the tension between familiarity and instability. The sounds here are deconstructed, fizzing and alive, produced with a pointillistic attention to detail.

This is music built for soundsystems, with a strong emphasis on bass weight and meditative, spacious minimalism. Elements are removed to the bare essentials, at times feeling like a contemporary reimagining of the early sound of dubstep; echoing the unease of a society in the midst of a dystopian timeline.

This is the sound of Innershades... next part of the Homage to the sound of Belgian clubs in the late 80's, early 90's. Inspired by records from iconic labels and stores as R&S, Music Man, USA Import and Antler Subway. Music that didn't stop at the border but also got picked by the resident dj's of the underground clubs in Rotterdam.

„Zuversicht“, das jetzt erscheinende fünfzehnte Album des laut Crescendo „klanggenialen Trompeters und Ausnahmekomponisten“ Nils Wülker, strahlt die Lebensenergie des Titels aus – in vielfacher, wunderbarer Hinsicht. Die elf Eigenkompositionen, eingespielt im Quartett mit den Jazz-Stars Aaron Parks (Grammy-Gewinner an der Seite von Terence Blanchard oder Joshua Redman) am Piano, Linda May Han Oh am Kontrabass (Grammy-Gewinnerin, u.a. mit Pat Metheny oder Kenny Barron zu hören) und dem laut Jazz Magazine „Drummer seiner Generation“ Greg Hutchinson, drängen den ECHO-Gewinner und Top Ten-Jazzer Nils Wülker bewusst aus seiner Komfortzone in eine schöne, neue Klangwelt. Wülkers Personalsound ist eindringlich und unverkennbar, das Ergebnis dennoch überraschend. Gemeinsam haben die Vier in nur dreieinhalb Tagen voll gemeinschaftlicher Schaffenskraft in den legendären Hansa Studios in Berlin (U2, David Bowie, Depeche Mode u.a.) ein Album geschaffen, das gleichermaßen zeitgemäß wie richtungsweisend ist – und in seinen starken Melodien und dem sagenhaften Interplay voll Zuversicht.


Das Resultat spricht für sich: „Zuversicht“ ist ein sehr organisches, in jeder Note lebendiges Album, dem die Kompositionen des Leaders in Kombination mit der kreativen Zusammenarbeit der drei weiteren Bandmitglieder enorme Größe und Eleganz verschaffen, eine immer wieder überwältigende Energie. Auch live auf Tour wird die Besetzung des Albums zu erleben sein – mit Nils Wülker an der Seite von Linda May Han Oh, Greg Hutchinson und anfangs, aufgrund von Termingründen, mit keinem Geringeren als Omer Klein am Piano. Gute Gelegenheiten, Nils Wülkers spontan entwickelte neue Stücke und die traditionsreiche, moderne Klangwelt dieser Musik unmittelbar zu erleben.

Waiting is the essence of travel. Patience is its own reward.

Two people. A Telecaster guitar with a few effect pedals. A drum machine. An audio interface is connected to a laptop. The ingredients are simple yet effective.

But any suggestion of four-track cassette machines and vintage bedsit productions is quickly dispelled by digital dubbiness and refined arrangements. A tail of reversed echos. The crystalline flourish of octave-pitched delays. Riddled hi-hats tickle and taunt. A bass drum asserts its space.

Winkler's guitar patterns have a fragmented, almost haphazard connotation. Searching in a shimmer of reverb. Until the beat, the framework, sets in to reveal structure. Intentionality. Reihse's programmed rhythms go just to the point of a groove, holding the moment of tension, knowingly delaying the gratification. Beats that have scratchy patina anda subtly playful edge; their crispness stands in contrast to the contemplative drift of the guitar. Is it a trance? Or a dance? Yes.

There are some apparent references here: a good portion of Les Disques du Crépuscule, some kraut-esque electronica, even a smidgen of Morricone / Spaghetti Western, blending into a kind of Musique Noir – yet these serve as a set of orientational coordinates, rather than quotations.

This is so far the most assured release by Periode, perhaps eschewing some of the naiveté that was wilfully cultivated in earlier output – there is no cheeky cover version this time. And no singing either. The nine pieces have the quality of a series, a variation on a mood, or a subset of moods. What emerges is an inviting swagger in the face of bleakness. There is a profound melancholy, but it is not the darker kind, and does not exclude humour.

First impressions may suggest that this is purely nocturnal music. Yet it equally evokes the harsh sunlight and baking summer heat. Or a rainy day. And transportation: the music suggests the motion of travel, even if that travel only happens within the mind. And waiting. Waiting while doing nothing much. Because that's all you can do. (Alexander Paulick)

DIN SYNC DUB is an exploration of communication through sound. Six tightly packed experimental dub tracks use bass-heavy vibrations to rattle both body and mind, pushing the limits of self-expression in the hope of fostering deeper human connection.

The drive for more efficient and precise communication tools—whether between man and machine or machine and machine—has been a foundational force in the evolution of technology. This duality, the way we interface with computers and the way we speak to one another, is at the heart of DIN SYNC DUB. For this album, N1_SOUND looks back to 1980, drawing inspiration from Roland’s Din Sync—a 40-year-old synchronization technology once used to link musical machines in perfect harmony. While connecting machines to produce precisely sequenced music is nothing new, it’s the tension between perfection and imperfection—the mistakes of both man and machine—that gives DIN SYNC DUB its voice, its emotional rawness.

The journey begins with “Horizontal Hang”, which crashes through the door with a relentless bassline and crystalline synths. “Such Love” introduces a throbbing, guitar-driven groove, while “Intuition Dub” channels the spirit of Jah Shaka, offering a rhythmic pulse that echoes dub’s deep roots. “Us All” provides a moment of introspection with its sparse, three-dimensional melodies, before “Joy” reintroduces chaos, creating a post-dubstep soundscape that dismantles everything in its path. The album closes with “Mauzy” , a hopeful yet fragmented conclusion, reflecting the ever-evolving nature of technology and connection.

By the mid-to-late 1980s, Din Sync was superseded by the more widely adopted MIDI, yet obsolescence is built into the nature of all technology. Just as our relationship with machines shifts and fades, so too does our understanding of how those changes shape us. Before we can grasp the impact, the world has already moved on.

DIN SYNC DUB, the first full-length LP from Spiritual World, pulses with energy, on the edge of malfunction—a manifestation of the tension between the digital and the organic, the past and the present.

At the end of the Sixties, the production of soundtracks for small and big classics of Italian cinema is now joined by another business which has proved to be less profitable but more creative and, in best case, free from the constraints imposed by clients on duty: the composition of music libraries. Almost all of the artists for the eighth art have finalized at least one or more music libraries. Names famous and not, old and young composers, real outsiders and meteors, usually hidden behind pseudonyms: this is the case, for example, of Braen and Peymont. The first needs no introduction, it was the one adopted by the former arranger, multi- instrumentalist, singer and composer Alessandro Alessandroni. The second is closely linked to the mysterious American composer, but resident in Italy, David Hoyt Kimball. The two are authors in different measure of an interesting album with an experimental background, “Paese Sotto Inchiesta” (1971), originally published by Flirt Records.

The titles of the tracks appear in connection with the socio-cultural climate of Italy after 1968 and can be relocated as a background for journalistic-like images. The latter is a hypothesis not supported by facts, but some titles seem to be referred to the perception of a subsisting economic backwardness of the southern regions compared to the other ones; to a situation of collective tension, thanks to the global revolutions; in addition to the new concerns with an ecological background. Overall, the seventeen tracks on the album are mostly 'dirty', characterized by an even atonal setting, with long repetitions in a noisy key, more fundamental reverbs and echoes for the different keyboard instruments. In a few words, abstract sounds, some guitar notes, echoes of Gruppo Di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza, flute melodies and proto- ambient intuitions. Composers like Alessandro Alessandroni and David Hoyt Kimball deserve to be rediscovered.

*Following the essence of the work, for this press, MPI release a 100% recycled vinyl that reduce waste, minimize environmental impact and support the planet*

A student of the Weatherall school of DJing, Asa Tate has showcased an astonishingly mature approach to production over the years that belies his age. You’d be forgiven for thinking these 4 tracks had been discovered from a dusty DAT tape, locked away in the vaults of a northern Italian club and rediscovered after 30 years....Listen more closely and you’ll notice the contemporary production flair and more recent influences that make this EP a perfect reinterpretation of the mid 90s house sound: sitting somewhere between dream house and Morales finest work under the red zone moniker.

The EP wastes no time in setting it’s intentions with the A1 Title Track, “Replica” - after a brief and floaty progressive house intro the refrain “ E-e-e-e-e-e-e-ECSTASY” echoes loudly over sampled vocals, euphorias piano chords, throbbing lead synths and a bouncy tech house bass line.

“89” is a sultry deep house cut featuring rising Spanish star, Dariam Coco on Vocals. It floats like a butterfly, but stings like a bee, as the soft chords are interrupted with huge drum fills deftly transforming an after party jam to a peak time moment.

We continue to “ Unknowns” - a masterclass in building tension and holding it - this track simmers with restrained intensity for almost 6 minutes. It’s trademark Asa Tate production at its most understated and classy. We round of the EP with the fittingly titled “Last Dance” , a wistful composition that brings us back down to earth slowly, safely and gently; always grooving but never pushing - this one is the soundtrack to the end of a long summer day and reaffirms Asa Tate’s claim to be a modern master of Deep House.