Cerca:esp

Yeong Die would typically be described as DJ, musician, or “experimental” composer, but in reality she is a sculptor. Between the rapidly disintegrating boundaries of composition and sound design, her work employs a hunting and gathering of intangible material—bursts of memory, fragments of liminal space, interstitial banalities—materializing as boundless expressions that evade genre constructs. As an integral presence among Seoul’s most forward thinking sound artists, Yeong is in a constant uphill battle rejecting the reverence that so quickly creeps in and infects contemporary craft, that relegates even the most audacious attempts of her peers to pigeon-hole pastiche. Given this style-agnostic starting line, her ESP Institute debut 'Uncapturable' exudes non-urgency, an unfettered pace that allows breathing room, affording the listener freedom to mentally isolate and explore elements without fear of missing a “bigger picture.” There is a warm and welcoming feeling that invites repetitive, even studied listening. While half the work is somewhat singular in presentation—'1km', 'Like Your Flaw', or 'Burnt'—there are moments of meticulous complexity—'Morning Rum Punch' (featuring vocals by Cifika) and 'Did' (featuring a smattering of spoken words by icecream drum), both underground Korean peer artists. These moments feel more of like an acute focus on execution that compliments the overall shape of the album, rather than a dynamic contrast. Cifika’s vocals, in particular, command the listener’s periphery in a playful and refreshing way, exaggerating negative space and in-between moments that not only the paint an arresting stereo field but a remarkable sense of depth, not easily achieved without production sorcery. It is, without a doubt, these beautiful fleeting moments that we describe as 'Uncapturable'.

Fashion Flesh tears the fabric of space and time. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute. With side A’s 'Atoms Revolt', ESP cordially introduces Fashion Flesh, AKA John Talaga, to the deepest corners of your mind. Using largely homemade electronics, circuit-bent gadgets, and tape manipulation, John manages to tap into the innate character of these otherwise introverted machines, eavesdropping and documenting their buried inner dialogue. His command of distortion is multi-tiered. On a micro level, he induces happy accidents and shepherds stray elements. Zooming out a bit, we begin to understand the sonic meat grinder that equalizes his bag of disparate ingredients. And from a macro vantage point, we fully recognize the greater tool that sculpts all of the above into form. Side B’s 'New Freedom' conjures a specific dystopian image—the byproduct of an artist involuntarily conditioned by the commute between up-river Bay County, Michigan and the Detroit metropolitan area. Like cutting away at flesh and muscle, breaking through the bone to suck the marrow, John depicts both the contrast and parallels between two post-industrial urban landscapes, the banal trek across The Thumb between them, and the gradual disintegration of agriculture as one nears the Techno city. Voice fragments begin to stutter in syncopation like radio frequencies interfering with our psyche, Geiger counters wail and moan, untamed oscillations mimic caged primates rioting at the zoo, and a steady-firing piston of drums struggles to break through a dense harmonic soot. The depth of personality John extracts through his manipulation process is remarkable— a point-of-view that foreshadows humanity’s looming technological singularity while hinting that it may have always been here, hiding in plain sight, waiting to be given a voice. These two songs will trip your circuit breakers.

There was a long time I considered Raymond Richards the ultimate secret weapon. There were sounds he could make that other people just couldn’t. Pure, whole, yet complex sounds. The pedal steel is an extremely niche instrument outside of its Country confines, but its sheer and transcendent depth has never failed to floor me. Raymond’s ear for implementing the steel into literally 'anything' has always been uncanny. After decades of being savvy to his work ethic, multi-faceted studio skills and overall sense of musical honesty, it became a priority for me to channel some of this into narratives through the ESP Institute and get his stories told. Without further recounting the history and trajectory of our musical relationship (see the press release for 2020’s critically-acclaimed album 'The Lost Art Of Wandering'), I can whole-heartedly confirm this sophomore release, 'Sand Paintings', opens an even wider door into Raymond’s visceral, contemplative world. The cast of players has elaborated to include Calexico’s John Convertino on drums and percussion, a bevy of eccentric stringed instruments and even a hint of brass to collectively stratify context for the pedal steel. Through diversifying the timbral palette, we invite an increased soundstage acuity but also reveal untapped wells of emotion for the listener, perhaps even testing cultural literacies. One foot remains in our established ambient realm, while the other steps toward grand cinematic gestures, and despite the dense, insurmountable emotion in these songs, there is a stoic singularity, like a lonesome cowboy pulling up his boot straps to endure another day. 'Badwater Basin' opens with courage, an enormous chord evoking Raymond’s image of “hard dawn”, but in navigating through the dramatic depictions of 'Monument Valley', 'Saguaro' and 'Deer On Hwy 80', we grapple with a cloaked vulnerability—weathered by the elements, beaten down and alone, yet still madly in love with the world. —Lovefingers

Evelyn spreads her wings and prepares to fly. This is her first offering for the ESP Institute. On side A, 'Tremors' slams together a plethora of seemingly disparate rhythms, organic percussion, field samples, hypnotic chants and a relentless low end punch, that when in full-swing, works some seriously deep sorcery. Contrasting her pounding kick and rolling sub combo are a softer grouping of melodies, soft mallets and muted tones that lay subtly beneath the aggression, skillfully playing with a sense of spatial depth and room size. Its the kind of track that draws you in with meditative bars, concentric cycles that sit ever so slightly off-axis, inducing the mind and body to obsess and regulating its timing, and then drops you into a very intentionally arranged soundstage giving expansive space to explore. On the flip, 'Pregunta' continues this approach of natural versus industrial instrumentation. The consistent machine kick has a powerful but playful tone, the negative space between each stroke evoking a mighty gesture as its note bends in the decay. Set in 3/4, a community of live percussion successively adds and subtracts, each player’s imperfect attack accumulating into a mechanically smeared and addictive loop that toys with peaks a handful of times yet restrains any unnecessary climax for the betterment of a driving groove. Near the end, as the kick and various players mute and the base of the track is given a moment to breathe, its apparent just how layered the production was in the moments prior, as we’re suddenly at home, smitten with the wobbly and lopsided innocence of the foundational percussion. These two songs will push you headfirst into the light.

Katerina is an old friend from the early trips to Helsinki, a Finnish Bulgarian queen of the dance, having commanded the wood floors of Kaiku since its inception. Her debut EP with the ESP Institute, 'Natural High' is something special if we may humbly brag. It is the electronic embodiment of our annual journey around the sun, with its release landing just in time for this year’s Summer solstice. Over 4 tracks, the narrative shifts are technically subtle but emotionally palpable, presenting moods that swing both warm and cold but maintain a delicate balance start to finish, a confidence that speaks of true experience and understanding the dynamics of dancefloor moods. Our typical verbose track-by-track dissection feels unnecessary as Katerina’s work here is most legible as a whole. 'Natural High' is a cozy and honest offering, a soft-edged cerebral antidote to the daily falsehoods perpetrated by mankind, and a reminder that in the end, we are all just children of Gaia. Run Free!

Patrick Conway crossed the threshold to find a new hope. This is his third offering for the ESP Institute. On side A, 'Loss' sets an overall melancholic tone for the record. A single repeating high note on the piano establishes a guiding element, which is eventually supported by a tear-jerking yet resolving chord progression, a trailing choir of angelic voices, and a filter-modulating synth that pads the widest zones of the mix with the occasional counter-melody. Robust in and of itself, Patrick’s melodic arrangement floats gracefully over an otherwise antagonistic rhythm section built from his signature corroded dancehall arsenal. This hornets nest of boxed live kick drums, piccolo snares, and high-pitched toms is held together by a dry veneer of saturation, sitting at safe distance from but in natural harmony with the bulbous low-frequency atmospherics. On the flip, 'Silencio' employs a similar statement at the top of each measure, this time an anthemic polyphonic synth stab as opposed to the singular piano note, however, unlike the layered melodies throughout 'Lost', here Patrick explores the narrative possibility of negative space—call and response, rhythmic dialogue, and the implied notes that leave the listener’s or dancer’s intuition to complete a phrase. In the game “musical chairs,” children run around manically until signaled to find a chair, at which point their diverse personalties must urgently synchronize, until set free to run again and repeat the process. Patrick's approach for 'Silencio' conjures said metaphor—his melody and rhythm are unleashed to meander and spasm within the confines of each respective bar, until that anticipated synth stab unifies everything “on the one”—controlling the chaos, calling on muscle memory and affirming logic. These two songs will be with you always as they always have been.

Taking our time has become a sort of ESP modus operandi, often proving that when variables are left to cook long enough—relationships, styles, politics, moments in culture—we may collectively yield a more considered result. Once in a 'Blue Moon', we set sights on a record that conducts some strange voodoo, some rare combination of elements that commands our entire being. Entering our atmosphere with a concise 6-track debut, dub technician Brendon Moeller has brought us exactly that. Although we’ve long been admirers Brendon’s work, separated by only a few degrees—he and ESP’s Lovefingers are the same age and shared a decade of salad days in New York City—it took another decade before enough courage was mustered to suggest we actually work together. Our reticence has seen Brendon’s aesthetic and palette evolve over the years, and the label has simultaneously sculpted a tone of its own, but now we’re more than proud to finally marry his highly refined output with our, let’s say, “deliberate” appetite. 'Blue Moon' touches everywhere Brendon has been as an artist—from the obtuse corners of ambient to IDM, dub techno to liquid drones and bass—yet the vocabulary is honed and succinct, relying on a very intentional handful of expressions. This is almost an exercise in restraint, all 6 tracks are delivered from a disciplined and committed point-of-view, but what we find most captivating is the exploration that this allows in terms of depth, texture, fluidity and pacing. There is a complexity hidden in plain sight that begs to be studied, a comfort that allows us to slip inside like a warm bath, an addictive tingling sensation that we must prolong indefinitely. Even as we write this testimonial, the album is going on a fourth repeat and we languish the intervening silence between tracks. This is being under the spell of Brendon’s 'Blue Moon'.

Following 2020’s 'Point Vacancies', the debut EP from Jamie Paton and Mike Bourne’s collaborative act Metal, the duo return with a trio of dubwise remixes from Mr Paton himself as well as a peak-time stormer from fellow Bristolian artist, Hodge. The latter immediately sets the record ablaze with a driving-tempo kick thump, a duo of grain-textured 16th note hi-hats and chalky clap. He layers an anthemic three-chord pad progression with layered octaves, peppering in arpeggiated bleeps and articulate lead melodies, then tops it off with a few modular elements that retain the character of the original, before climaxing in true rave fashion. Proper. The following three mixes by Metal’s own Jamie Paton make clear his sonic obsession, the type of infinite tweaking that sees some artists/producers to the edge of madness, or at the very least satisfies some dragon-chasing addiction. There’s a successive deconstruction from 'Remix' to 'Dubwise' to 'Dubwise II', most notably in the reduction of rhythm and drum machinery, but also in the general tonality. The melody remains central but is gradually obscured, taking on a less and less recognizable form, and by the end we’re left with a skeleton of the track, quips and cranks, an assembly line of aluminum sheeting punctuated by an array of demented nuts and bolts. As with the previous EP, the sparsity of elements illustrates just how far one can twist an aesthetic, proving that self-imposed limitations can often propel an artist’s process and land them somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere foreign, somewhere enchanted.

ESP Institute artist Bartellow, one third of the project Tambien and otherwise known in the Contemporary Classical sphere as Beni Brachtel, returns to the label with his second full-length release, Noosphere. While currently heading the SVS label and residency series out of Munich, Beni’s resume expands well beyond electronic music to include immersive sound installations such as The Adven- ture Of The Empty House (solo live performance across seven floors of Walter Henn’s Deckelbau building), a slew of compositions for the Bavarian State Opera (for which he doubled as conductor), and a prolific career of over twenty-five theater scores for institutions such as the Münchner Kammerspiele, Schauspiel Basel, Maxim Gorki Theater Berlin, Berliner Ensemble, Schauspiel Köln, Schaus- piel Graz and with directors Ersan Mondtag, Alexander Eisenach, Jessica Glause and Tobias Staab among others.

Noosphere is a compendium excerpting from theatrical scores WUT (Elfriede Jelinek, at Schauspielhaus Köln, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2020), Ödipus and Antigone (Maxim Gorki Theatre Berlin, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2017), Der Zauberberg (Thomas Mann, Schauspiel Graz, directed by Alexander Eisenach, 2017), Hass Tryptichon (Sybille Berg, Wiener Festwochen / Maxim Gorki Theatre, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2019), Wonderland Ave. (Sibylle Berg, Schauspielhaus Köln, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2018), Die Verdammten (after Visconti ́s film, Schauspielhaus Köln, directed by Ersan Mondtag, 2019) and Roi Ubu (Alfred Jarry, Theater Neumarkt, Zurich, directed by Alexander Eisenach, 2018).

The work traverses homages, infusing everything from Baroque to Impressionism, and while these types of references are certainly built into the canon of Theatre as a discipline, here we gather histor- ic layers in an even wider net. Under the self-referential thumb of Contemporary Classical music, this sort of "hindsight" approach has been largely avoided, however, in today’s all-access arena, the constant stream of historic causal-chained events has opened a delta where anything is possible. This defines Bartellow’s stance among his colleagues as well as his cultural position as a composer.

Beni considers beauty a fleeting objective in the arts, that expression is often expected to follow notions of Destructivism or the unfulfilled. Art will pore over wounds, collective angst, mourn- ing a loss of natural habitat or a fear of technological invasion, yet there is a bitter irreverence for the friction or salvation in beauty itself. Acknowledging this subjectivity — what one audience considers superficial pleasure may be deeply profound to another — he leans into musical instinct as if composing via divine conduit.

Noosphere conjures a array of suspense, ecstasy, melancholy, and dread, but in isolating the work from its theatrical component, Brachtel directs our focus toward formal qualities, clearing unim- peded space to conceive fresh narratives and examine dynamism and interconnectivity. In sympathy with often difficult theatre pieces, the passages can be dark and transgressive, but more importantly they remain relative to Brachtel’s circumstances at their time of creation. The title Noosphere speaks to the evolution of human thought and knowledge, opening a door to subjective points-of-view. For example, Nexus II On The Beach refers to both Roberto Musci’s Water Messages On Desert Sand as well as the film Bladerunner, invoking the image of an android enjoying the sunset, but whether or not this abstraction may be considered beautiful depends the listener’s cumulative life experience and perspective.

This is hybrid chamber music, augmented by electro-acoustic layers, juxtaposing various periods and successively processing their residual themes into a trans-generational rendering of “now.”

It has become clear that Matthew Shipp is the most interesting and important jazz pianist of his generation, the most continually evolving and pushing forward. (We could also say “best,” even have been known to declare that, but it’s such a loaded term.) Now that he’s in his sixties and something of an elder statesman of the art form, he’s overdue for a retrospective look at his catalog, and to help make that happen, ESP-Disk’ will be reissuing some of his great early work that’s gone out of print:
• The 1990 trio recording Circular Temple (originally self-released on Quinton, then reissued in 1994 by Henry Rollins on his Infinite Zero label) will come out this September;
• His 1994 duo album with William Parker, Zo (originally on Rise, reissued in '97 on Rollins’s 2.13.61 label), will reappear in Spring 2024.

These will both be reissued not only on CD, the format on which they first appeared, but on vinyl as well, since many jazz fans prefer that medium. Additionally, his solo piano album Zero, released by ESP-Disk’ in 2018, will be put out on vinyl for the first time, also in 2024.

Circular Temple has marked many firsts for Matthew Shipp: his first CD release, first piano trio album, first of many times on record with Parker and Dickey, first album to be reissued, and on ESP-Disk’s reissue of it, first CD-only album to finally appear on vinyl and first album to be released by three different labels. And, more trivially, the first Shipp album that current ESP head/reissue producer Steve Holtje acquired, back when the only choices were that and a 1988 LP-only duo by Shipp and saxophonist Rob Brown on the Cadence label.

Jdotbalance left the moon and the sky for a city that works. This is their first offering for the ESP Institute. On side A, 'Sublimate' combines two aspects of a digital pipe and mallet assortment—both as the percussive base for a groove, and as an interstitial layer where inherent resonances are massaged into melody. Bubbles and squeaks dance around the sound-stage periphery, occasionally pierced by high frequency statements, presenting as either ghostly yelps from the aether or as bursts of kaleidoscopic shards. A third of the way through the track, the instrumentation truly does sublimate, crystallizing into a new self—bolder and naughtier, abandoning its pensive optimism for a detour around the spectrum's dark end. On the flip, 'Precipitate' continues with its predecessor's primer of metallic percussion, but accelerates the pace to reveal Jdot’s attitude leaning toward cunty malice. The kick drum relentlessly pounds us as 16th note droplets metamorphose from chrome-dipped hail into full-blown acid wind. As intensity retreats beneath the digital rubble and the track draws to a close, so does our stream of Jdot’s consciousness. These two songs will accelerate your nervous system.

Close your eyes and merge into Benedikt Frey’s 'Fastlane'. Imagine sitting in the driver’s seat of a an automobile, one with exceptional horsepower and torque, as you stare out the windshield at the red light, warping in fata-morgana a mile down the road. It’s a straight-away, a black top with two lanes, and against your better judgment you decide to floor the gas. No hesitation in your muscle, your ankle or the ball of your foot, which you now realize is some kind of universal pivot, the first point of contact fusing your body with the will of machine. In this moment you’re in awe that you, a human, an animal, grew from pond scum into something so advanced as to engineer this thing, a mechanical beast capable of overwhelming power and exhilaration. But you also feel a seductive dread, an outside force diverting you from caution toward a dangling carrot of curiosity, asking yourself, ‘How far can I take this thing?’ The dread, now a constant, is numbed, equalized by an adverse intoxicating gratification. You feel both sensations in real time, however, rather than take responsibility for yourself, friends, family and innocent bystanders, you cement your foot to the floor and lean your head back. Noise around you fades to mute. Smell the benzene-scented air, feel the wind on your face, the menacing vibration of the vessel you control beneath you and every grain of asphalt under its tires. This mile has now lasted an eternity and you’ve left your body for some objective view, as if watching climax of a film. Past the point of no return, you embrace abandon and lean into fate. The film becomes slow motion, a crawling pace so mesmerizing you convince yourself of an option to eject yourself from this madness, but as you finally let go of your last morsel of fear, you run the red light head-on into the nucleus of a fantastic glistening sculpture of torn metal, glass, oil, broken dreams and heartache. 'Fastlane' may be just drum machines and synthesizers if you’re timid, but listen harder and know the catastrophic reality of existence, a wreckage so gruesome we dare not rubberneck, but afterall it is our nature to stare.

Tape

The music of Melati ESP aka Melati Malay is a euphoric vision of megacity rhythm and rainforest escape, club breaks and weightless pop, mapping new dreams from the sound of futures passed: hipernatural.

Drawing on the music era of her teenage years growing up in Jakarta – Javanese radio Dangdut, gamelan cassettes, Moving Shadow-era liquid jungle, Japanese chill-out, etc. – as well as her current work in progressive percussion trio Asa Tone, Malay’s solo debut is boldly borderless, bridging worlds and wavelengths into a richly imagined hybrid synthetic utopia.

hipernatural is momentous linguistically, too, as Malay’s first foray into singing in Indonesian, the language of her youth. She characterizes her lyrical mode as “abstract, and a bit broken,” an intuitive collage of diaristic emotion and oblique poetry (“plant me in fleeting twilight / missing home, where is home? / I am another you”). Her voice serves as its own versatile instrument, alternately intimate and alien, sensual and sacred, shaded with the haze of hidden heavens.

Co-produced with long-time collaborator Kaazi (100% Silk, Asa Tone), the album’s 12 tracks are cohesive but eclectic, threading through temple bass music, cyber siren techno, Stereolab drum n bass, new age downtempo, and dial-up rave reveries, flecked with tactile fragments of offworld dialogue, computer hum, bubbling water, and beyond.

Malay’s technique of sampling and processing her voice into an electronic palette which she then performs on generative instruments gives the songs a bewitching artificial intelligence elegance, exquisite but uncanny. Hers is a hybridity both organic and hypermodern, deeply personal yet globally sourced – YouTube rips, nature tapes, cheap sample packs, club bootlegs. hipernatural champions a dynamic new language at the axis of then and now, of east and west

When David Drucker of Painted Faces begins to write and record, every dumb sign, bad horror movie, seemingly innocuous turn of phrase, petty embarrassment, transcendent joke, and musical
influence are drawn together like iron filings to a magnet.
What results is a document of a particular point in time for the artist. There are infectiously haunting hooks and raw atonal passages, cheap synths (and as time goes on less cheap ones), simple but effective chords, ramshackle percussion (a plastic toy maraca passed among audience members that refuses to die), and a host of other elements that all add up to something very special and deeply personal.

It’s a portrait of the artist as a freak.
On his latest album, Normal Street, the story continues. The title track opens with a nebulous cloud of beeps and squeals which slowly give way to more solid melodic form. Drucker, always searching for ever
freakier and liberated pastures, walks a particularly unique line between unpredictably risky experimentation and skillful songcraft. It’s this interplay hat makes Painted Faces truly original and exciting.
What “works” is totally relative, and through his long honed practice of trying things, he has created his own sonic vocabulary.

Normal Street is a fractured collection of songs, sounds, ideas, sometimes brief and other times delicately sustained; its stream of consciousness mischievousness bringing to mind Zappa and the
Mothers filtered through the angst of bedroom pop and tape label minimalism.

Communique Records USA sub label, SOUNDS. brings another classic release back on vinyl.
This time it's the collab between DJ Skull and Label owner DJ ESP aka Woody McBride from 1996!!!

Jasper James fights for what he wants to be, cuz function is the key. This is his first offering for the ESP Institute, and after many trials and tribulations with the pressing plants, everyone’s patience is now handsomely rewarded. On the A side, '0141' is percussion-based track utilizing a variety of overdriven metallic percussion and petite vocal snips that roll up neatly into a seductive rhythm. This is one for the hips and hands, with instrumentation chopped into short staccato spikes, Jasper invites impulsive body theatrics and the freedom to spastically express oneself. On the flip, 'E-Maniac' is a bona-fide tops-off Summer anthem if we ever heard one. What would typically qualify as an A-side banger, we’ve decided would better suit our contrarian leanings as a nice Easter egg, just to make sure you’re actually listening. This one drives hard, shuffling at a maniacal pace with gut-bending bass notes and stuttered pad stabs. These two songs will ping your pong and pong your ping.

Opal Sunn (Alex Kassian and Hiroaki OBA) believe in unicorns, leprechauns and mermaids. This is their first offering for the ESP Institute. The A side leads with 'The Problem With George', a percussive monster at a half-time tempo that goes deep with a dual mission; to successively build round after round while keeping the listeners mind and body in an ecstatic state of surrender. Imagine the dancefloor pumping, and at a dynamic peak the DJ halves the timing and wipes the floor with your spinal fluid. On the flip, 'The Mystery Of Mr Lee' takes a similar approach in terms of arc and arrangement, although replacing the analogue percussion with 16th-note arpeggios of synthetic steel, glass and tubes. Beneath this glistening veneer lies another scale-wandering melody constructed of machine toms that eventually opens up, morphing into a more decisive hook, wrapping more tightly around the drum pattern before retreating back beneath layers. If dropped at the opportune time, let’s say the sensitive blue morning before dawn cracks, we expect a dancefloors to reach the highest level of psychedelic escape, after which hugs are essential. These two songs will tuck you in and kiss you goodnight.

'Night Of The Endless Beyond', the sophomore album by Lord Of The Isles AKA Neil McDonald for the ESP Institute, had almost become a mythical piece of work. The tracks very slowly crept into formation from the lowest depths of 2021, and once the completed album finally made the leap from creation into manufacturing, an entirely new onslaught of follies and delays awaited at the pressing plant. We began to laugh, for not only did Mario Hugo’s otherworldly sleeve artwork visually translate this music so well, but it was an uncanny premonition to the album being lost in space, falling through a black hole, evaporating into the aether like a dream that never really happened. But, at long last, ground control has confirmed contact! It did happen, it will arrive, and it’s not a myth.
Listening to 'Night Of The Endless Beyond' now feels like the return of a strayed friend, one whose distance left us pining for an embrace. Although this Techno relies on unassuming means, there is a remarkably complex and persuasive emotional statement embedded here, insisting we learn to endure the long game and allow ourselves patience to investigate and appreciate the minutiae contained not only within the notes, but their negative space. From its introduction, through its mellow crests and valleys, there is a conveyance of restraint — subtle dynamics that quietly beg for attention, repetition so hypnotic that imaginary melodies are inescapable, transient peaks so deliberately scaled that we mourn the subsequent decay. In accordance with Neil’s ESP debut, 'In Waves', we never feel attacked by instrumentation but shielded from sharp edges, able to step inside the music, breathe the air it occupies and know its true intentions, whether bright or bleak.
Just prior to the album close, a film dialogue excerpt summarizes everything quite honestly by proposing, “The truth of the universe is waiting … the truth of what is … it’s all going to go away … everything … into blackness … the void … and nobody is in charge.”
“…and what do you do with that?”
We stare long into the 'Night Of The Endless Beyond' and answer… “You smile.”

This extraordinary NYC trio combines free jazz and post-punk with pointed commentary about issues of race, gender, the pandemic, and political autonomy.

Rose Tang, a Mongol from Sichuan, sings/recites and plays guitar, piano, and percussion. Tenor saxophonist Ayumi Ishito, from Japan, plays in a plethora of bands along the jazz/rock spectrum. Drummer, composer, and educator Wen-Ting Wu, from Taiwan, combines jazz drive and classical rigor.

The group came together to play one song at an event. ESP-Disk’, already familiar with the separate work on the NYC scene of all three members, immediately invited them to make an album. After intensive rehearsals, the members recorded the album in a one-day session, then reunited during the pandemic to add words about its effect to an existing instrumental on “8 Steps/7 O’Clock.” This album is simultaneously part of ESP-Disk's Drive To Revive Weird Rock and an extension of the label's famed free-jazz legacy.

This extraordinary NYC trio combines free jazz and post-punk with pointed commentary about issues of race, gender, the pandemic, and political autonomy. Rose Tang, a Mongol from Sichuan, sings/recites and plays guitar, piano, and percussion. Tenor saxophonist Ayumi Ishito, from Japan, plays in a plethora of bands along the jazz/rock spectrum. Drummer, composer, and educator Wen-Ting Wu, from Taiwan, combines jazz drive and classical rigor.

Communique Records USA re-issues one of the most known releases from the label cataloque. Communique 008 by DJ ESP/ Hoshi from 1996 in the re-bound on 180 Gramm vinyl, recorded from original DAT (re-mastered)!

In a two-decade career, Raymond Byron Magic Raposa has recorded six albums as Castanets, another as Raymond Byron and the White Freighter, and has worked with musicians ranging from Annie Clark (St. Vincent), Matthew Houck (Phosphorescent), and Sufjan Stevens to Liz Janes, Jana Hunter, Nathan Hubbard (Trummerflora, Cosmologic), and John McCauley (Deer Tick). Over the course of that time, his music has been called part of the New Weird America movement, freak-folk, psychedelic folk, and indie folk. Bond Wire Cur is as surreal and desolate and haunting as anything he's done. Collaborators on the album are many (Cory Gray, Erik Clampitt, Pony Domer, Jason Stinson, Lauren K. Newman, Kimba Kuzas, Ron Burns, Paula Barry, Coty Dolores Miranda, Josh Cole), yet the sound of the record is stripped-down and stark. It is a crucial chapter in his career and in ESP-Disk's Drive to Revive Weird Rock.

Stalactite is a collaborative recording project by renown Japanese artist and multi-instrumentalist Susumu Mukai AKA Zongamin and producer Drew Brown, whose discography ranges from his own group Off World to a variety of integral productions for artists such as Blonde Redhead and Beck. Their self-titled debut for the ESP Institute is a grand gesture, a broad stroke that illustrates both singular focus and vast complexity, which is no easy feat considering the almost oppressive immediacy and availability of tools at the disposal of contemporary artists. There’s a level of creative confidence and discipline needed to work so fundamentally, and whether or not the listener has an appetite refined enough to process the tasteful subtleties throughout this production, these same subtleties accumulate regardless and land that listener in a highly considered and developed space. The deceptively naive melodic approach consistent across these nine tracks can feel transparent, familiar to a point the listener can anticipate its path, but when listening with acute focus we find a variable range of texture, temperature, depth and negative space. As alumni of the Minimal, Cold Wave, Synth Pop era, Susumu and Drew successfully personify a motley crew of synthesizers to work in concert, reduced to their core personalities and presented as their most honest selves — austere, shy, cinematic, percolating, bulbous, glistening, cantankerous, rubberized, clumsy and animated. Each masterfully paired with complimentary counterparts, these players assemble into a sound-stage we typically find in live recordings, enveloping and inviting us to the center of an acoustic cavern to wade through sonic impressions of monolithic stalactites.

Woody MC Bride & Krismix & more !!

This is ACID Techno MUSIC !

RAWAX proudly present the new series by Woody McBride aka DJ ESP!

You can expect some new, unreleased and classic re-issues on this platform form the Mastermind himself! Starting in May with the former Synewave #09 from 1995!

"Of the records Ayler made during 1964, the LP New York Eye and Ear Control...is probably the most important link between the epoch-making collective improvisation Free Jazz by the Ornette Coleman double quartet, and John Coltrane's Ascension. Apart from that, it is—in my opinion—one of Ayler's very best recordings. New York Eye and Ear Control owes a large part of its success to the contrasting temperaments of the three musicians used by Albert Ayler in addition to his trio, namely, trumpeter Don Cherry, trombonist Roswell Rudd and alto saxophonist John Tchicai. Don Cherry improvises in broad melodic lines or places sharply accented staccato passages. Roswell Rudd interposes fragmentary flourishes in the highest register, or growl sounds and glissandos in the manner of the old tailgate trombonists. John Tchicai presents the polarity of a slightly 'cool,' linear style and offers motivic linkage by insistently repeating melodic patterns. All three inspire Albert Ayler to a breadth of expression which is too often missing in his improvisations with smaller groups. There is less limitation to his sound-span playing, more contrast, more punch and rhythmic accentuation, and with quick response Ayler takes motives from Cherry, Rudd and Tchicai, transforms them
into his own musical idiom, and in turn gives a new direction to the flow of ideas." - Free Jazz by Ekkehard Jost

"The music is fiery but with enough colorful moments to hold one's interest throughout." - Scott Yanow, All Music Guide

"...a valuable window into the music's early history as well as what might have happened outside record dates, more than one is usually privy to." - Clifford Allen, AllAboutJazz

Prodigal son of the ESP Institute, Juan Ramos, rises from the cesspool of a world gone mad with 'Agua Del Cenote', his fifth release with the label. Whilst many artists are following their inner light to bring us some much needed joy amidst these rotten times, Juan (being the little shit that he is) follows an inner demon and delivers listeners and dancers a demented clusterfuck of sadistic chaos. The title track opens with what sounds like a butane torch and we metaphorically freebase into oblivion. Our perception of reality unravels, writhing in abrasive textures smeared across a low-slung, mid-tempo erotic thump. Everything feels blurry and distant, as if we’re swimming through an underground aquatic tunnel, in a panic, searching for an invisible band of spirits whose tune summons us into certain annihilation. Following this is a remix from a decorated lord of 20th Century electronics, Harald Grosskopf AKA The Synthesist. Harald wipes away grit and lethargy to reveal elements hidden deep within the mix as well as softens Juan’s sense of terror by building up to an optimistic layer of added synth. We’d love to offer some relief with the balance of the EP, however, the remaining two tracks paint complimentary hues in the same cerebral palette. 'Let It Go (Freaks Only)' veers closely to House in terms of tempo and gestalt, utilizing a vocal sample from Third Generation (Kerri Chandler) and a healthy dose of sub bass, but Juan hardly apologizes for his masochistic tendencies and certainly never relents into an uplifting mood. Closing the EP, Juan serves an antidote of sorts with 'Cuko', as if suggesting a way out of the swamp, but leaves it up to the listener’s intuition to not only see the carrot, but actually follow it into the light, thus completing the quest.

In pairing words with art, the ESP Institute often does everything journalists hate. We drown the reader in hyperbole, abstractions as opposed to didactic or literal depictions, and paint the press release with superlatives that construct an existential struggle around the art and its conditions. To articulate our reasoning behind collaborating with the artist, or the synergy between their work and our catalogue, is sometimes so challenging that crossing that finish line is achingly delayed. Patrick Conway’s 2xLP 'Cellular Housekeeping', his fourth release with the label, is one of these works so monumentally exciting for us that we’ve strained over how to deliver with honor his art unto the masses. After the initial hurdle of visual representation (in this case handled with gusto by artist Hassan Rahim), how do we directly and intentionally talk about the art we deeply love, when in reality we’re largely guided by instinct? We explore many angles, often failing along the way, until finding a final click in the combination that unlocks the floodgates. With Patrick’s album, that elusive impetus revealed itself in a literary gem that both symbolized his aggressive, melancholic, romantic, and bleak overtones, as well as synchronized his work and our task with a metaphor so grand it justified putting these words to paper. In the deeply British poem of despair and hope, 'Comus: A Mask Presented at Ludlow Castle', John Milton immortalized the classic idiom of the “silver lining”, and we find comfort in this transaction between struggle and what the poet considered divine intervention. Our bout of procrastination that brewed a cloud over the art may too tout a silver lining, the time that’s elapsed clearing a path for the album to exist in its rightful place, as opposed to fighting for a voice at an overcrowded table. In hindsight, this final hurdle might have only existed because without it, there is no glory, no resolution, but as all the pieces click and we collectively cross the finish line, Patrick Conway’s once captive 'Cellular Housekeeping' is now truly released.

Something wicked this way comes. Following singles 'Know The Future' b/w 'Digital Warfare' in 2019 and 'Hypersocial' b/w 'Safety Test' in 2020, ESP’s own Patrick Conway has now teamed up with the illustrious Appleblim (of Skull Disco and Apple Pips fame) for a meaty self-titled debut 2xLP under the new collaborative moniker, Trinity Carbon. There is something to be said for art created in the face of global unraveling, while mass transgression and the friction of culture shifting produce poignant commentary, but more often than not, it’s the personal coping mechanisms within our work that have the power to speak directly to the receiver. After a number of sessions resulting in wild imaginative beginnings, it was the untimely passing of Andrew Weatherall and a coming to terms with that loss that moved the two Brits-via-Berlin to herd their roaming sketches into a more narrative statement. In the uphill struggle to retain some sense of individualism, it’s always outsiders like Weatherall whose risks illuminate the roads of creativity less traveled, and when those beacons go dark there is a disorientation felt far and wide. Conway and Blim concede to the internal inquiry, “What would Weatherall do?” bringing to mind the man’s pervading morale, always soldiering onward through mediocrity, as it was undoubtedly an impetus for the duo growing steadfast and chiseling 'Trinity Carbon' into completion. While employing trusted machines in the bass department, they established a warm euphonic home base from which they could stray in a variety of tonal and rhythmic directions without straining a tether to the album’s core. However, as soon as any hint of familiarity may arise, or listeners begin to mentally assign stylistic epithets, the duo boldly change course to remind us that while the banal stay safely defined, it’s the iconoclasts, the outsiders who make us feel.

On steady rise following two sublime singles over the past year—Sagano b/w Haru Wa Akebono and Karakuri b/w Michinoku—Tokyo-based artist Hoshina Anniversary elaborates his eccentric musical point-of-view even further with a debut album for the ESP Institute entitled Jomon. Fourteen tracks stir a melting pot in line with our obsessions, a variety of styles which often stay in their own dedicated lanes while here their trajectories collide in demonstrable fusion. Hoshina gleans borderline absurdist qualities from late Jazz hero Chick Corea (evident in his wild and meticulous keyboard runs), calls upon ancient Japanese instruments, shrines and mythologies, and makes sideways nods to early minimal synth productions, yet all of the above are sifted through some granular equalization, an abstract veil that smooths the skin of Hoshina's mutant creation. A weight of experience pervades throughout, a requisite education in the electronic realm and a deep reverence for Jazz and its masters, and in turn this confidence transfers a sense of ease which leaves us poring over alternative approaches to otherwise familiar tropes. Once this conversation with the music is established, a subliminal push/pull tension toys with us across the length of the album, undulating our sense of space. The tonally rich, dynamic and melodic side of the works present a cool sense of depth but are violently contrasted by a slew of over-saturated punches, and at some point an inevitable alchemy casts these disparate expressions into a haunting monolithic array. Some are glistening and smooth, others are porous and jagged, but all amount to a staunch and cohesive work with the ability to transport listeners to regions unknown.

Banging UK Techno style !
Inna old school original creators crew with some fresh blood to awake new tricks !

BANGER !!

Afrikan Sciences carry the torch and grant the sight. This is his second offering for the ESP Institute. On the A side, 'The New Dun Language' shows us the meaning of loose. Literally everything about this masterpiece takes its time and operates in its own space, rhythms work together but stand apart, timbres inherently laidback are made aggressively present, like the diffused attack of a shaker that’s shook with such purpose it’s no longer granular but razor sharp. The soundstage drops all around you like percussion shrapnel, splitting your attention every which way, while the string lines remind you that no matter how deep inside your head you’ve gone, there is always a nearby exit to the comforts of familiarity.

Flip the record over, however, and the track 'In His Convenient Way' will even further discombobulate your sense of self. Do you have dreams you’re on a merry-go-round and with each revolution you try to hop off, but you can’t? Each time you cycle around, the tension grows and grows? Well, this is like that, menacing but not dark, a demented odyssey through an impossibly thick swamp where you swear the trees are whispering to you but can’t quite understand their language, yet still you manage to communicate. As the time passes, and you near end of the track, the impenetrable veil slowly lifts and you realize you’ve been in control all along. These two songs will two songs will help to contemplate, heal and transcend.

Legendary Sun Ra bassist Ronnie Boykins (1935 1980) stepped out on his own for his first and only release as a leader on The Will Come, Is Now. He was invited by ESP in 1964 to record his own album, and in February 1974, he told ESP that he was finally ready, and the session took place later that month. This recording not only features Boykins's solid abilities as a bassist, including his marvelous arco work, but also his talents as a composer and arranger. In addition, one is treated to an all natural bass sound, a rare sound during this particular era of jazz history. In septet format, Boykinss' six originals create a variety of moods and textures that not only evoke the music of Sun Ra but also reflect Boykins's own sensibilities as an artist. Original pressings, made just before ESP Disk' went on hiatus for forty years and thus less common than other ESP LPs, often go for upwards of $150. This limited edition of 500 is on black 180 gram vinyl and features the original artwork.

It has occasionally been assumed that Henry Grimes got this December 28, 1965 recording date as a reward for his long service in the avant-garde of jazz. Having already honed his musical conception with a varied range of players, from Benny Goodman and Arnett Cobb to Lee Morgan, Gerry Mulligan, and Sonny Rollins to McCoy Tyner, Steve Lacy, Albert Ayler (including ESP 1020, Spirits Rejoice), Don Cherry, and Cecil Taylor (to name just a few), the service was certainly there, but he got this gig fully on his merits. For The Call Grimes teamed with highly original clarinetist Perry Robinson (as label owner Bernard Stollman has noted, "a virtuoso who merits far wider recognition...and this recording reflects both of their contributions, in equal measure") and stalwart drummer/ESP-Disk' regular Tom Price. As a bassist, Grimes's melodic style is well up to the task of being co-equal voice with a horn, resulting in a thoughtful and texturally rewarding LP with a level of quality far above the rote sideman session cliche, and far away from equally clichéd ideas of unrelentingly full-bore free jazz. It offers the sound of three excellent musicians listening to each other and responding superbly. The Juilliard-trained Grimes appeared on six other ESP LPs besides those already mentioned. He retired at some point after the last of them, 1967's Marzette Watts LP, and went so far off the scene that it was rumored that he had died. Happily, that was not the case, and he reemerged in 2003, moved back to New York, and returned to his prolific ways until illness slowed him down and then took him from us earlier this year (2020).

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.

This album was recorded during Thollem's 2017 residency at Brooklyn-based multi-discipline mecca Pioneer Works. It's the second by Radical Empathy, which combines three uncategorizable improvisors. Michael Wimberly has been astonishing folks since his days in Charles Gayle bands and Steve Coleman & Five Elements in the early '90s, and has gone on become a composer and educator of note. Nels Cline has spent decades changing people's ideas about the role of the electric guitar in multiple contexts, ranging from Wilco to Anthony Braxton (think about that!) as well as many projects as a leader; this is his fourth album in trio with Thollem, and a fifth will follow next year, also on ESP. Some people have given ESP-Disk' flak (and "flak" was not the first word choice here) about putting out Thollem McDonas albums. "He's not in the jazz tradition," they say, and even though their idea of the jazz tradition includes Albert Ayler, we like to think that this album will make their little, closed minds explode.

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.

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.

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

All Music Written & Recorded by David Drucker at The Skinny Apartment in Ridgewood, Queens, 2017
Featuring Mike Green (Mezzanine Swimmers) on guitars on "I Took Too Much Acid in 7th Grade," Cop Funeral on
electronics on "Seafood Special," Chris “Mr Transylvania” Shields on background vocals on "Massachusetts Is a Magical
Place," Eva “Nighttime” Goodman on violin & backing vocals on "The Ridgewood Ripper"
Painted Faces is the long (strange/trip) running voyage of weirdo David Drucker, began in Florida in 2009 and decamped
to NYC in 2011. It has sometimes been a loose band in the past with a revolving lineup of outsiders and interlopers
(known as The Freak Band), but is usually a solo endeavor, and the bulk of the recordings have been done as such. PF
has always been a home recording solo project, one-man-band style heavy on psychOdelic/outsider
folk/noise/experimental vibes. He started self releasing CD-Rs in the early days and quickly jumped to tapes on a variety
of labels including Already Dead, Lava Church, J&C, Null Zone, Tall Tapes. A "legendary" CD compilation on Gulcher
Records and an LP from Already Dead and Almost Halloween Time in Italy brings us to the here and now. Tales from the
Skinny Apartment is somewhere around the 20th or so Painted Faces release...he has long lost count.
Drucker runs/curates gigs (and records at) the Skinny Apartment, his dwelling place in Ridgewood Queens,
which some folks have called the "realest DIY zone in NYC." He also rips in Dead River Company, Big Hiatus, Shecky,
Canyon River Blues and countless other unknown subterranean improv zoner outfits. "Ripping" involves keeping it
freaky and weird and ripping sets wherever/whenever, i.e. always being down to perform whether in a kitchen or a
packed ballroom....no diva bullshit, just plugging in (or going sans electricity) and playing...always giving it your
all...Ridgewood Rippers are the crew of artists that populate Ridgewood and the loose "scene" around the Skinny
Apartment...much of it is in jest, a self-inflated mythology of nonsense which is pervasive in all rock and roll "scene"
histories. As a student of rock/pop history, Drucker is fascinated by the loose associations that connect folks from
various zones together...i.e. Miles Davis and The Grateful Dead...it's all the same though, the labels and genre
distinctions are completely arbitrary. We're all in this together, now more than ever...to be a "ripper" is simply to
"rip"...no nonsense!
Painted Faces has toured all over the USA and Canada numerous times, spreading the ripper gospels, and is
gearing up for their second European tour. He is known for falling apart on "stage," with performances heavy on humor,
horror, stoned digressions, and cathartic bouts of therapy, part performance art/part standup comedy, eradicating the
lines between performer, performance, and audience one show at a time

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.

Norwegian artist Tarjei Nyga°rd first touched on the ESP Institute spectrum in 2016 with a limited red flexidisc of Bleusa that accompanied issue 21 of New York City's acclaimed Love Injection fanzine, and since then, his poetic music has been a staple in our arsenal (especially during Summer), for its ability to effectively direct moods is second to none. Across the four tracks on this debut EP, Tarjei paints quite viscerally using the most fundamental of tools—melodic and rhythmic hooks—and as obvious as this may sound on paper, its his deliberate approach to songwriting that brings these productions to life. Bleusa is literally dripping with a sense fantasy and adventure—island pads, golden bent notes, even a cameo bird-call from the infamous Acid House loon—yet Tarjei exhibits a mature level of restraint, a highly sophisticated sleaze recognizable to refined pleasure-seekers. Forus Echo furthers this notion but expands into full-blown rapids of ecstasy, rolling over soft-thumping percussion that mimics the human heart while smothering the listener in euphoric waves of pads and delays. Side B shifts us from the melodic dynamic heard thus far over to a strong rhythmic palette, not acknowledging any specific reference point but loosely hearkening back to early-era turntablism, the demented title track Lost In Lindos is a aquatic beat thats both deep and buoyant, the type of liquid tool that works at any BPM. Øylie closes the EP with a signature ESP vibe that has us lying on our backs, drawing finger pictures in the opium smoke above, feeling the warm embrace of collective consciousness while telepathically harmonizing our plans for a bright utopian future.

Jonny Rock is somewhat of a sorcerer, an omnipresent eye that gathers secret ingredients from far and wide—old school House oddities, hypnotic melodies of the Orient, the furthest reaches of Disco, the easy pace of Turkish psychedelic funk—fusing it all into his own shrouded code, a string of immaterial messages, both subliminal and lucid, that highlight his eccentric sense of storytelling and nuance. He imbues a sense of familiarity in his music, implying history that might not be studied but still feels learned, a quality inherent to productions born from a vast catalog of influence (and the inseparable sample material). Jonny conjures euphoric acid flashbacks, herds of crowds through Istanbul alleys, the misty morning residue from raves of yore, orchestral winds blown across the Aegean riviera, and he manages to concentrate their essence into singular details such as a snare drum. Both sides of his eternally-awaited ESP debut lean toward his dark arts—'Tye Die Techno' drives a relentless hard-edged drum kit that could throw an otherwise self-respecting Goth into a heated breakdance battle, while the title track and theme, 'Ode To A Happening On Earth,' plays with the imagery of ritual, fantasy and role-playing—but throughout this malevolent stew, there is a sustained hint of the artist's playful nature. No matter how murky the trip becomes, Jonny is always there, a light at the end of the tunnel, with a big hug to reassure that everyone will be OK. He is one clever bastard—if you know, you know.

Roman Flügel needs no introduction, so lets not hammer on about his lengthy history as a kingpin of contemporary German dance music, his essential contributions to the musical evolution of Darmstadt and Frankfurt, his achievements as a virtuosic multi-instrumentalist traversing genres with remarkable grace, his sense of dynamism and urgency in the construction of big-room anthems or the meticulously woven textures of melancholy found throughout his minimalist work, his ability to pay homage to pioneers of his musical heritage without diverting to pastiche, his fearless combination of familiar melody with synthesized aberration and imperfection, his approach to instrumentation as Haiku poetry where the ordinary is made profound through simple isolation, his rejection of stylistic pretense and acceptance of comforts found in the constructs of folk and pop, his contrast of cold efficiency with a warm naivete´, his yearning to return down previously-forged paths with a new accumulation of experience, the confidence to paint the room blue when it was meant to be black, his belief that a beautifully executed idea will always transcend the need for incessant polishing, the way in which he leads arrangements to the edge and only implies a resolve, his framing of musical narratives as sketches, outlines, or skeletons where the listener's perception compliments the whole, or his notion that sometimes stories might not need a clear articulation but might only come through in hints of mood, pace, and color, a language which doesn't rely on words to communicate but which paints for us in Themes. Yes, rather than hearing our attempt to elaborate on Roman's Flu¨gel's debut album with the ESP Institute, lets just simply listen.