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Hoshina Anniversary returns from forever for a majestic dance. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. Side A’s Karakuri contains all the elements of Hoshina’s signature sound; bouncy staccato bassline, minor chords and organ stabs, a Chick Corea-inspired Rhodes that walks all over the place, all tracked along sparse bits of Japanese percussion and cymbal that juxtapose organic texture with precision-machined timing. The lead keys feel at first as if they’re freeform, however, Hoshina’s obsession with order becomes apparent as the bars develop and his systematic control and repetition is revealed. On side B’s Michinoku, we’re treated to a deep and slow burner. A roller of a beat based on 808 toms and a pishy snare sets the somewhat bumpy base for this groove, and again the meat of the rhythm is built with dirty chords, this time on the upstroke, in an almost Reggae style. What the flipside taught us about Hoshina’s controlled chaos, is here again the lesson and perhaps even moreso. The voice of the track remains the Fender Rhodes, played in brief but wild phrases and arranged into patterns upon which Hoshina builds layers over some 8+ minutes. There is a deep and dark mood throughout both sides of the record, but perhaps more sultry than devilish, and one that listeners educated in the stoned arts will appreciate. These two songs have built the end into the beginning.

In the 2000’s Chee Shimizu helmed an untouchable Tokyo DJ collective called Discossession alongside Dr Nishimura (House music buyer for Cisco Records at the time). Balancing out this unit were a young Scotsman-abroad named Jonny Nash (who’d later form Sombrero Galaxy ESP001 and Gaussian Curve as well as the Melody As Truth imprint), and the late guitar virtuoso and tattoo artist Zecky. Formidable DJs and multi-talents on the Tokyo scene, Discossession released two EPs on Kenji Takimi’s Crue-L imprint and various mixes individually on lovefingers, all holding well-deserved eternal cult status. Chee’s Denshi Meisou 2006 and Follow My Dream 2007 for Lovefingers as well as his legendary “listening sessions” at HiFi lounge SHeLTeR in the Tokyo suburb of Hachioji, laid foundation for what would become known to his followers as “Organic Music” or “Obscure Sound”, the former extending as the name of his record shop and the latter as the title of his 2013 book.

Obscure Sound chronicled his tastes in detail and has since become a sort of diggers bible for peers and younger generations. At the ESP Institute’s inception in 2009, Shimizu contributed two tracks to Lovefingers’ Concentration Vol 1 compilation as apéritifs to a later release. “Later” eventually became “forever” and the mythical piano track (appearing only as a demo on Golden Age and Dekmantel 061) is still, to this day, not ready for formal release. Skip a dozen years, musical interests and major life changes, and Chee has now unveiled something quite special in accordance with his Obscure Sound—rather than making new out of old rope, he presents a collaboration with Tokyo guitarist miku-mari a.k.a. Takahiro Matsumura. The artists frequently collaborate at the experimental audio/visual event, Sacrifice, held irregularly at Tokyo’s ForestLimit, and in 2018 when Chee was invited to DJ at Japan’s only Ambient festival Camp Off-Tone, he and miku-mari endeavored to expand these works into a 2-hour improvised performance. Chee collaged various percussion samples and personal field recordings utilizing four CDJs, supplementing with live windchimes and Andean chajchas, while miku-mari coupled a guitar-controlled synthesizer, Sound Tube software (developed by Japanese Ambient composer Hiroshi Yoshimura) and more live elements such as Tibetan bells and pyramid crystals. Rehearsals for this performance were held prior to the festival at ForestLimit, recorded as multi-tracks and edited into these two cerebral Reconstructions.

Patrick Conway is made of snips and snails and puppy tails. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On side A, Hypersocial removes our minds from the daily online cesspool and pulls up emotions we haven’t felt for almost a year. We lost a Summer of dancing together en masse in clubs, fields, warehouses and pubs, but with this beautiful reminder of what true social synergy and collective ecstasy can physically feel like, the Bristolian by way of Berlin hits the nail right on the head (with a little help from his friends Quantum Thomas & Hoyahelper). Lush strings? Tick. Balmy chord progression? Tick. Ethereal vocal chops? Walloping bassline? Infectious rhythm? Goosebumps? Tears of joy? Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick! On the flip-side, Safety Test is surely the tougher counterpart, the warm fuzzies are traded for a ten ton bag of grit. Here, Patrick foreshadows a sonic approach we’ll hear lot more of with his debut album early next year; a combination of abrasive rhythms, processed scraps, a grab bag of stabbing bleeps and bloops, distant car alarms, ballistic fax machines, and an arsenal of low frequencies so brutal your woofers will require jumper cables. So, a heroic slab for both a block party in your brain and sunset in your soul, these two songs will bring back the Summer you just lost.

Metal is a collaborative endeavor between Bristol and London artists Jamie Paton and Mike Bourne of Cage & Aviary and Teeth Of The Sea, respectively. A shared love for modular synthesis brought the two together in 2018 for a series of improvised live performances and the tracks featured on this EP were born from rehearsals for those sessions. What draws ESP to this music is its paradigmatic nature. The tracks are exercises in improvisation yet there is a level of control in which the performance slowly comes alive. Jam sessions allow for artistic gratification, a freedom of form often at the expense of the listener, but when artists set forth exacting parameters, there grows an opportunity for alternate forms of fulfillment on both sides of the experience. As is typical among stylistic prototypes, a reduction of tools frees the artist to narrow their focus and explore more singular modes of performance.

Jamie and Mike chose texture as a concept, namely Metal, and following the aforementioned methods, minimized their instrumentation toward the aesthetic representation of that element. Operating in a void without the convenience and advantages of the infinite tools we’re now accustomed to, they exhausted a short list of granular details, honing their concept to a fine point. Throughout these three iterations on the theme, we hear timbres that depict metal literally, but moreover we gain a view into the duo’s visceral attachment to its materiality, abstractions of its surfaces, and an overall transgression from conventional constructs of beauty. The idea is simple, designed with discipline to romanticize both the crudeness and elegance in one of Earth’s most industrious and enigmatic elements. Metal.

“Here we have new music by an artist you may have heard but have never heard of, reason being the Austro-Balinese surf goth formally known as The Hands would now like to be referred to as Dully. Yes, Dully. The ESP Institute proudly presents his second official release which can only be described as independent gothic technotic antipop. Enjoy!” –DJ Harvey

In the late 90’s, east-side LA was in the throws of a post-indie explosion; a network of stoned bands ranging from neo-psychedelia to pseudo-country overran Spaceland (our generation’s Troubadour) and the local Silverlake Lounge. I was playing freakbeat records twice a week in dive bars, half of Spacemen 3 was crashing at my house (my drop-out roomate was Sonic Boom’s tour drummer) and it was during this blur that I met Raymond Richards, a clean-cut all-American pedal steel guitarist playing in Mojave 3 (the country-tinged side project of 4AD shoegaze royalty, Slowdive). I was instantly swept off my feet, head over heals in love with Raymond's weeping tone—the most chill-inducing, emotionally responsive dialog I’d had with music since discovering Satie as a child—it was then and it is now, truly haunting. After a year of personnel trials, my roomate and I stole Raymond for our own band, and not only did he smother our songs with his enchanting steel, he was virtuosic with a variety of atypical instruments such as baritone guitar and theremin, he utilized them all. The band was short-lived—I joined Ariel Pink, Raymond fled to Portland and me subsequently to New York City—but in founding the ESP Institute years later, there was always a recurring mental note; we must make Raymond’s pedal steel album. I had managed to wrangle his blessed performance on a remix for Project Club’s El Mar Y La Luna, but it took almost a decade until I once again wore the producer hat and we began working on The Lost Art Of Wandering, a title borrowed from Sam Shepard’s Stories. Spiritually candid, expansive yet enveloping, this is the strung-out, visceral country music that simply radiates from Raymond. Each song is his set of coordinates in a vast open terrain, holding a sentimental familiarity, a truthful longing for the simple comforts that diffuse life’s complications, a place to get lost. –Lovefingers

When the world slipped into madness last month, the ESP Institute put most releases on the back-burner to await brighter days, but then we thought again; why not approach these odd circumstances the way we do most realities, positively and head-on? We’re committed to a community that builds new worlds — this is fundamental to our creative and spiritual relationship with Osaka-born, cosmos-straggling artist, Ground — and while temporarily we can’t physically congregate to uplift each other, its our responsibility as an institution to maintain a platform for prolific creative pioneers, our cherished cartographers of cognitive escape. 'Wakusei' is wonderfully confusing and disorienting music, a follow-up EP to 2018’s critically acclaimed album 'Sunizm', not created specifically for life under lockdown, but nonetheless aptly suited to help release angst, guide meditation, and assist in making this moment in history more interesting if not transcendental. Whereas 'Sunizm' relied on field recordings gathered from rainforests, percussions learned from imaginary ancient civilizations, and the somehow organic freneticism of a mission control meltdown, the aesthetic of 'Wakusei' reduces this abstract instrumentation one step further to a more base-level array of gurgling synth scraps, accelerating engine friction and static-bound phonetic mistakes, all scrubbed into dust by a Brillo pad of white noise. The cliché of “great art is born out of hard times” is not lost upon us — of course the world will look back to this turmoil and its residual contributions to culture — but we see today's art as an immediate coping mechanism, and artists like Ground helping to unlock and navigate internal utopias. We’re already indoors, let’s delve inside.

Hoshina Anniversary is conquerer of the mind, creating the most beautiful sound, other than silence.
This is his first offering for the ESP Institute.

Side A’s 'Sagano' is fairly representative of the Hoshina sound — raw organic samples and instrumentation, of traditional Japanese origin, mercilessly bent and tweaked to suit the needs of his obsessively precise arrangement. Midway through the track, we’re bewildered by his demonic breakdown on the Rhodes, which daringly tags the bassline and strings into a synchronized trio of jazz-funk noodles, and he even throws in a key change before dropping us back into the main hook for the duration of the dance. It's a major flex, and indeed makes an impression.

On side B’s 'Haru Wa Akebono', Hoshina displays an alternate and equally significant side to his songwriting, merging optimistic twinkles and arpeggios with slightly detuned dry percussion for an overall uneasy vibe, not dissimilar to early video game aesthetics or circuit-bent toys. Across both sides, there lies an unhinged overtone, such that we feel one small step from spiraling deep into a demented quicksand, a freak-out where hallucinations get the better of us.

Initiating a breadth of releases planned with the ESP Institute, this single summarizes a few of Hoshina’s most compelling modes, and though there is a whole circus yet to unfold, we hold his cards close, no spoilers before the main act.

These two songs will have you drinking moon juice and dancing naked at the Mardi Gras.

Oh, Juan! We love thee, we love but thee with a love that shall not die ‘till the sun grows cold and the stars grow old.
Once in a blue moon, there is a star for whom we see limitless possibilities, whose inevitably long and fruitful œuvre all but insists we do everything in our power to nurture and provide support.

We diligently examine that sky, seeking rarefied meaning from an often desperate and banal universe, and over this past decade you have surely proven one of the brightest, most wondrous and tenacious cosmic forces we’ve encountered.
Your kaleidoscopic wealth of personality, your emotionally urgent storytelling, your obsessive-compulsive weaving of voices siphoned from the pop culture æther, your ability to synthesize teachings from the Atlantic Northeast, Caribbean and Fatherland to pen an ever-evolving musical autobiography; these superhuman strengths are not lost on us.

The 'Oxford House' EP is particularly special, as 'Fahrt Im Himmel' was our fateful introduction to your work, and though that meeting in a writhing maniacal pit of half-naked sweaty bodies was nearly five years ago, it still lives romantically close to our hearts. We just know the world will fall in love and 'Let It Go', just as we did.

It’s exciting to see you merge a musical adolescence with the now evolved Juan Ramos of 'Oxford House', recognizing your significant coming-of-age and never shying away from your roots, but rather confronting and embracing them at your every turn.

We will continue to champion your creative process and output, in hopes of fueling your inherent quest to illuminate uncharted regions of your vision.
... With all our love, always and forever, the ESP Institute.

TCB aka Chris Beißwenger, our boy on Jah bless road, goes a little something like: 1977, born cross-eyed, parents like Boney M; 1984, suburbia USA, DSNY, still cross-eyed; 1988, 98.7 Kiss FM New York on the school bus radio; 1989, Frankfurt Am Main, hyperactive, outsider, got lazered; 1991, drums and piano in cheesy school band; 1993, kicked out of Omen, kicked out of school band; 1994, kicked out of Omen again, got his own band; 1995, kicked out of band, finally in at Omen, The Box, Wild Pitch Club; 1996, got first car, Fasttracker, EMU ESI-32; 1999, no more car, no more Omen, Robert Johnson instead; 2002, first release, High Tide; 2003, Ableton 0.1 Beta, less MIDI, more gefrickel; 2004, exchange High Tide for CB Funk, kicked out of Cocoon; 2005, a silly move to Düsseldorf, Burkina Faso, more synthesizers; 2006, again silly in Düsseldorf, Brontosaurus, disco-house, love; 2007, Cologne and Frankfurt, back to piano, more love, still no car; 2008, with love to Frankfurt, Arto Mwambe on the road, storyteller; 2009, Mwambe still on the road, bored of work; 2010, Live At Robert Johnson, four-day week (thank God), four bike accidents; 2011, Europe, bored of piano, invention of The Citizen’s Band; 2012, modular cookery, thoughts of moving; 2013, Burkinian's death, Delphi's rise, almost made it, 2014, broke out of seven-year cycle too complicate

Robotron successfully autonomized and has now breached the mainframe. This is its second offering for the ESP Institute. Side A’s Exodus picks up where the last 12” left off, the spoils of cybernetic war as scavenged by the now-defunct Xinner and translated by Robotron into machine dance music for a post-apocalyptic future. With only a select few analog machines with which to communicate, it manages to produce the most bombastic beat we’ve heard this side of the acid winter—a mighty compressor permeates all spare gaps in the waveform, as communicative bleeps and note-bending mechanics work in concert to assemble a highly dynamic composition— emboldening us with courage for a new age. On the flip side, Kamchatkan renders a sparse image of a only remaining organic life, found in the furthest Eastern reaches of the Asian continent, the Kamchatka peninsula. Here, Robotron experienced a metamorphosis, a collapse of its structured programming in which it became self-aware and transitioned from its quantitative agenda to a qualitative enlightenment. This breath of new life invigorated Robotron’s musical approach as heard in the aforementioned title, revealing an uncanny ability for humanistic percussion and lyrical Acid melodies. These two programs will conduct synchronized dances for the masses.

Ground is an Osaka native, but his soul is truly that of a nomad, traversing the planet, befriending kindred spirits found in humans, animals and plants. He is exceptionally receptive to the beauty in everything that surrounds him—the incidental music of a city street, the orchestral chaos of a scrambling radio, the syncopated grace of migrating birds, the simplicity of an isolated hand clap—and as his roadmap continuously unfolds, he accumulates a vast catalogue of visceral tools to musically recount his experiences. 'Sunizm' is a cross section of the artist’s process—an array of complex microcosms overlapping to comprise a thematic whole—gathering field recordings, found instruments, jagged electronics, synthesized chanting, and weaving all into a dense narrative that appears obsessively constructed yet divinely improvised. 'Follow Me', the second of two singles surrounding the album, is complimented with a pseudo drum’n’bass treatment by enigmatic Greek artist Jay Glass Dubs, as well as a massively triumphant b-side entitled 'Ozone House', which is exclusive to this single release. Attention all humans, animals and plants, Ground and the ESP Institute present, 'Sunizm'.

Patrick Conway keeps a low profile and wobbles through the alleyways. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute. Side A’s Know The Future is properly moody, a UK rave track skirting the fringe of everything we hold dear from the days of our youth—big grey melancholy chords, mild shuffling breaks and anonymous diva cries peppered sparsely throughout—yet the artist manages to skillfully tick our nostalgia boxes whilst avoiding the road into full-blown pastiche. It's a versatile track, easily suitable for both the early hours in the warehouse or the tender drive home where your terrible Tuesday awaits. On the flip side, Patrick continues his plunge into emotional depths, summoning layers of ghostly sighs, chopping up the beats in half time and introducing a more prominent use of bass, but midway through Digital Warfare he jettisons the angelic pleasantries in favor a more deranged headspace. He’s had us swallow the wrong pills, sending us through a labyrinth of mirrors and echoes for the second half of the track, only to partially find our footing in the last minute. These two songs will send you to another time and place.

Autre left the lab and brought his science to the people. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On side A we have a silky slice of electro aimed straight for our hearts, LA Funk, incorporating stanzas of jazz chords and Autre’s signature meandering string lines, all thickly layered atop an up-tempo more-bounce-to-the-ounce bassline that will receive the nod of approval from even the most serious funk heads. On the flip side, the artist uses a similar broad brush of synthetic strings, but ventures into an emotional sweet-spot built on glorious chord changes and cascading arpeggios, sprinkling delicate percussion throughout like a flurry of phosphorescent dust particles. Wig Teleportation is a complicated looping narrative that ebbs and flows, snaring the soul with melancholy yet keeping your interest piqued with intricate layers of rhythm. These two songs will heal through the power of bodywork.

Juan Ramos opens his debut album with The Problem With Ambiguity and Finding Space—speaking to a societal confusion, a fragmented sense of self, and a pull toward many (often unwelcoming) directions—this turmoil in which he’s spent considerable time, sees him invest grave efforts to express the inexpressible. Changing Hands is a time capsule of that dark period in his life, an overtly honest musical diary which puts his emotional coming-of-age on full display, hoping to reach kindred listeners. While his previous output for the ESP Institute used a certain level of complication to push limits on the dancefloor, this immersive work cuts deep in to a frayed psyche, dismantling our preconceptions of Juan and plunging listeners deep into a stew of jarring textures, incomplete phrases, and circus-like abstractions of pop culture. There is a nonchalant and unhurried experimentation that accumulates over the album’s first half—disconnected and anxiety-riddled personality traits constitute various musical roles, sporadically converging in fleeting moments of optimism although never fully climbing out from the abyss—and yet amidst this chaos there is a watershed moment in which the artist successfully gleans a golden morsel of hope from his emotional junkyard, guiding us across the threshold into the album’s second half while diligently protecting the glow of this rock bottom treasure. Juan begins to reveal his inner b-boy—a distorted view on golden-age Hip Hop roots, an affinity for muddy break-beats, sultry loops and metaphoric interludes—the crown prince of a newly-found safe space. It’s as if he had us searching on all fours for a misplaced joint, but now that it’s finally lit, he assures us that everything’s going to be alright.

Following Jaguar Mirror [c.2016] and Night School Of Universal Wisdom [c.2017], psychonaut Thunder Tillman and his personal shaman Pontus deliver another sublime EP, completing an illustrious trilogy with arguably their most expansive work to date, Condor Sunower. The title track is emotionally overwhelming, a drum procession that carries a righteous battle hymn to epic heights, accumulating primitive instrumentation, ceremonial chants, emotive chord changes and Beach Boy harmonies before exiting on a tear-jerking coda. The intermediary track Sväva is just as vulnerable, a modestly-arranged and leisurely-paced lullaby, where angels coalesce with a droning organ and eventually unfurl into the warm glow of rapture. Before we hit rock bottom, Thunder and Pony halt the elevator, abandoning any sense of melancholy and climbing to new heights with Creation Discoteque, an 11-minute Prog beast that chronicles a myriad of their musical adventures. This retrospective of altered states does seem designed to drop the curtain on their meticulously-crafted narrative, but not without foreshadowing their future and throwing in an air-shaking rave-up that sprints toward the nish line. What we nd enviable, spanning 3 glorious Thunder Tillman EPs and short lms, is the duo's creative simpatico, something that many artists in collaboration never truly behold. It's not their joint musical intuition, their intrinsic understanding of one another's craft, or even the power of their improvisational tether, but their spiritual alliance that nobody can touch. It's as if they share a tandem bicycle ride on the highest plane of consciousness to lounge in the members-only spa where they telepathically discuss secrets of high-grade musical alchemy

Vactrol Park, the collaborative endeavor between Kyle Martin (Land of Light) and Guido Zen (Brain Machine), returns to the ESP Institute with II, rounding out the second half of their EP series. For this installment, a sojourn was made to Stockholm to record at the computer music mecca, EMS (Elektronmusikstudion), where the artists had the opportunity to experiment extensively with the legendary Buchla 200 Modular and Serge Modular, two of the rarest and most pornographic modular synthesizers in existence. While both instruments originate from California (Buchla in Berkeley as a commission from pioneer Morton Subotnik, and Serge at the California Institute of the Arts), the music Vactrol Park draws from these machines is far from warm and sunny. Akin to their predecessors on the 2015 debut I, these works materialize a level of taste and measure of craft that's unattainable by most, each retaining an individual cinematic approach yet working collectively toward one consummate goal—paralysis.

After a brief wander 'round the garden, Chilean-born Ricardo Tobar returns to the ESP Institute bearing earthly delights. With 2017's Liturgia, he introduced his creative point-of-view—instantly substantiating a sense of rhythm that was deliberately complex yet slightly rough around the edges, while touching upon his musical origins from the guitar-driven corners of psychedelia— however with his debut 2xLP Continuidad, he leaves us gobsmacked and seeking shelter as he leaps from dancefloor comforts and descends into absolute chaos (in more ways than one). Emotionally, the artist has crossed all previously self-imposed and subconscious thresholds, putting his true imagination on display and exposing an unwavering attraction to all things loud, orgasmic and transcendent. He's not subtly hinting at a fetish, but opening his arms wide with conviction, abandoning genre taboos and personally inviting everyone to join his enchanted caravan. Sonically, his appetite for intensity is clear throughout—epic chord changes, ascending peaks in arrangement, accumulating layers of grit that build into impenetrable blankets of distortion and feedback—a kind of aural hedonism that translates visually into the potent video abstractions our Mario Hugo has summoned for the album's packaging. This follow-up single surrounding the Continuidad album boasts the dirty little secret Bailemix of album track Recife—we wont go as far as uttering the 'T' word, but this is unbridled merciless tops-off festival gear for the massive. The flipside is another exclusive non-album cut Cuatro Meses De Verano, a rhythmic build-up that breaks into a low-slung funky stomper, Tobar's idea of a warm-up weapon.

After a brief wander 'round the garden, Chilean-born Ricardo Tobar returns to the ESP Institute bearing earthly delights. With 2017's Liturgia, he introduced his creative point-of-view—instantly substantiating a sense of rhythm that was deliberately complex yet slightly rough around the edges, while touching upon his musical origins from the guitar-driven corners of psychedelia— however with his debut 2xLP Continuidad, he leaves us gobsmacked and seeking shelter as he leaps from dancefloor comforts and descends into absolute chaos (in more ways than one). Emotionally, the artist has crossed all previously self-imposed and subconscious thresholds, putting his true imagination on display and exposing an unwavering attraction to all things loud, orgasmic and transcendent. He's not subtly hinting at a fetish, but opening his arms wide with conviction, abandoning genre taboos and personally inviting everyone to join his enchanted caravan. Sonically, his appetite for intensity is clear throughout—epic chord changes, ascending peaks in arrangement, accumulating layers of grit that build into impenetrable blankets of distortion and feedback—a kind of aural hedonism that translates visually into the potent video abstractions our Mario Hugo has summoned for the album's packaging. This might all sound like a warning for Hurricane Ricardo, but fear not, listeners will still find some security in the album's rhythmic underpinnings, and although this foray into primitive, ritualistic bang-the-drum percussion is significantly more dangerous than his previous programming, its the imperfection in his passionate studio performances that imbue Continuidad with something remarkably human.

Koehler was hurled headlong flaming from the ethereal sky. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute. Side A recalls the hazy memory of an ear-worm chant heard over a decade ago on the streets of Thailand, a melody that since haunted the artist and has finally been exorcised by his own hand in the shape of 'Melencolia V'. Somewhere between an enchanted bashment and a sailor's watering hole, Koehler found a gargantuan kick drum that lands solely on the 4, slammed it together with a wide pulsing bassline and brutalized Dancehall snare, then laced it all up with his elusive synth melody. Add to this a generous sprinkle of finely-ground cosmic dust and we're all tripping the light fantastic. On the flip side, the artist buckles up for a rough and rapid-paced journey with 'Invidiosa' — a relentless snare scrapes, gouges and corrodes over 7 minutes, coupling with a simplistic bass loop and swiftly marauding through a demented assembly line, accumulating various nuts and bolts of instrumentation along the way — an undeniable dancefloor exciter for those hours when the club becomes unhinged, dancing becomes raving, and slightly more audacious folk can channel their inner truth. These two songs will have you question your existence.