Cerca:even drones

White Vinyl

After two decades of releasing music on 12" vinyl under multiple pseudonyms the duo from Even Drones have completed their first LP.
The 20 track double vinyl carries the classic "album era" approach of the 60s and 70s into a modern contemporary work.

Each of the 4 sides of "Ethics" feels like the chapter of a story balanced into a synthesis of counterpoints from piece to piece. Twisted arrangements are stringed together with dance-able tracks and are woven into finespun transmutations of sounds. Sometimes peaceful and regulated, sometimes abstract and complemented with tamed feedback, noises, crackling and delightful patterns.

Like a continuous thread through all titles of the album, the multi instrumentalists somehow managed to harmonize a twisted array of methods and structures into a coherent listening experience.
This full feature-length metamorphosis with no boundaries of styles or genres is released just in time for the 10th anniversary of the band on Freund der Familie.

Phill Niblock completed BLK+LND in late November 2023. It is one of Phill Niblock's final compositions and was commissioned by bassist Robert Black (who passed away in the summer of 2023). The piece is based on recordings of acoustic bass and bass clarinet performed by Neil Leonard and Robert Black under Niblock's direction in 2021.

Phill Niblock (1933-2024) as an artist whose fifty-year career spanned minimalist and experimental music, film and photography. He has been a maverick presence on the fringes of the avant-garde. In the history books he is the forgotten Minimalist. Since 1985, he served as director of Experimental Intermedia, a foundation for avant-garde music based in New York with a branch in Ghent, and curator of the foundation's record label XI. Known for his thick, loud drones of music, his signature sound is filled with microtones of instrumental timbres that generate many other tones in the performance space. He said: 'What I am doing with my music is to produce something without rhythm or melody, by using many microtones that cause movements very, very slowly.' In 2013, his diverse artistic career was the subject of a retrospective realized in partnership between Circuit (Centre d'art contemporain Lausanne) and Musée de l'Elysée (Paris). The following year he was honored with the prestigious Foundation for Contemporary Arts John Cage Award. Since 1968 he also put on over 1000 concerts in his loft space in New York.

"On January 6, 2024, two days before his passing, Phill called me to discuss the premiere and tour of BLK+LND. To distract him from his rapid decline, I engaged in his touring plan, only for him to reveal that all the details were still in his head and none of the events had been confirmed. He was entrusting the project to me. Phill would have been thrilled and honored by this concert at the Donaueschinger Musiktage. The thought of one more performance with Robert Black, whom he greatly admired, presenting his new work for low-pitched instruments that he was particularly fond of, andreconnecting with old and new friends in Donaueschingen would have meant the world to him." - Neil Leonard, Berklee College of Music, Boston

At the heart of ‘Diese Fragile Praesenz’ lies a melancholic yet propulsive drone, constructed from a field recording and drenched in white noise. Around this softly glowing orb Kelovolt constructs a vast, shifting, sombre soundscape. Lush, magisterial pads, starry-eyed synth work, cold washes of tape hiss and static melt in and out of the mise-en-scène. Crumbling walls of bass and distortion collapse in slow motion even as rich, brasslike harmonies elevate the listening mind. Long keening synth notes emerge from the fog, intertwining with falling tubular figures, a journey through a wormhole of sound both monumental and fragile.
The accompanying reinterpretations approach this deeply rich source material with discerning reverence. Voltmar's version deepens the grain of the original, with sharper percussion and washes of static that blow through the mix like little gales of dust. Anthony Linell's PM and AM remixes delve into a darker emotional core, placing at the centre a low, shadowy synth pulse around which mists of tape hiss and distortion swirl. Black Merlin steers the track down the path of eerie psychedelia, echoing clicks and dubwise space around a groove often found in the deeper chasms of contemporary techno.
Elsewhere, Die Wilde Jagd stretches the original into a mesmeric landscape of drones, occasional distant percussion and heavy fog, punctuated by fleeting moments of melodic clarity and beautifully resonant bell tones. CV313's pair of reworks complete the collection by exploring two complementary dimensions of the original through his signature dub approach. The Gravitational Pull mix feels the most true to the title track, amplifying its starry-eyed, celestial qualities, with a softer, hazier version built around a deep bass groove, while the Dimensional Dub descends into vast caverns of echo, resonance and alien texture - strong dub-techno sensibilities loom large in this mix.
Endlessly contemplative, endlessly exploratory, minimood027 is a trip to its own sonic galaxy that spirals inexorably outward, carrying the mind to ever wider astral planes. But at the core is that ever-pulsing drone, the black abyss that draws consciousness powerlessly back into the great nothingness.

Faitiche presents the debut solo album by cellist, sound artist, and composer Topu Lyo: “quiet scenes from tokyo” brings together sixteen miniatures for solo cello and tape echo that oscillate between abstracts drones and rhythmic pizzicato sketches – all recorded at Topu’s Tokyo apartment. The constant traffic noise from a nearby highway has become an accompanying soundtrack for his compositions and can be heard on the recordings. Topu’s playing is marked by a distinctive idiom oriented more towards abstract electronic studio effects than classical technique.

The artist spoke to Jan Jelinek about his work:

JJ: A solo cello album may seem like an odd fit for a label that has to date released only music that is electronic in the broadest sense. But I think “quiet scenes from tokyo” complements the Faitiche repertoire exceptionally well. Its sixteen miniatures showcase the cello in all its complexity: the bowed passages sometimes recall a tape feedback drone; the pizzicato playing conjures up the percussion recordings of Moondog; and the abstract textures might be mistaken for the product of a granular sampler rather than rapid finger work on the cello. I’m constantly surprised by just how rich and varied this album is – without ever losing the charm of its sketch-like quality. Could you say a few words about the making of your album – first of all, from a rather technical perspective: what production tools did you use, and why?

TL: My production tools were very sparse. Just a solo cello and my Roland 301 Space Echo, which I only used at the end, running everything through it during mixing, tape only. After years of working with electronics, pedals, and synthesizers, moving to Tokyo pushed me toward minimizing my setup. But my aesthetics shifted too, toward simplicity. I wanted to strip everything back to just the acoustic cello and see how far I could push it — replicating some of my favorite electronic effects through extended technique: slow portamento, LFOs, filters, detune, noise. I’d also been listening to a cassette of ocean sounds for years. When I moved to Tokyo I was horrified to find myself living directly across from a freeway. Eventually the freeway started sounding almost identical to the ocean — and that ended up playing a prominent part in the recording.

JJ: That’s super interesting: mimicking electronic production as a compositional idea for the cello! You say the sound of the freeway is crucial to the album: I, too, tend to interpret steady traffic noise as a positive soundscape – do we hear the freeway on the album? I can also hear other field recordings, for example on “a street car with announcements”. Can you say a bit about how these field recordings influence your playing?

TL: Yes, you can hear the freeway on the album! The freeway is most prominent in “old trees in lonely spring”, “yuyake koyake”, and “the moon” (you can clearly hear individual cars). When I first began recording I had my balcony door shut tightly, but after a while I began leaning into the highway sound and slowly opening the door little by little to control the amount of noise. “streetcar with announcements” was a moment I was recording and a car passed by making announcements in the background. I loved how it sounded! Same thing with “yuyake koyake”, and later I realized that every day at 5pm the same song plays to mark sunset, telling children it’s time to go home. Having this bedrock of sound puts less pressure on me to put music on top or to play more notes.

JJ: It’s astonishing how much this differs from what I’d imagined: I’d been picturing peaceful landscape recordings, but had never thought of a freeway. Which goes to show how open to interpretation traffic noises are. So the room by the freeway had a major influence on the album – how are you going to perform it live?

TL: The contrast between the freeway and the beautiful landscape in my head couldn’t have been starker. I too was imagining a beautiful landscape in which to create the album, but somehow it still worked out. I've been going back and forth a lot on live shows and I think the most honest way is to have it the most stripped down. I was thinking of using traffic samples etc., but I think the duet really comes from the background sounds from every unique venue/environment. So as it stands, I’ll just be doing acoustic solo cello.

Rubbermaidxxx is a recent music performance project by the Irish artist Anna McCarthy, rather than simply the title of one autonomous artwork. Rubbermaidxxx is a character or unstable identity, an emancipatory underdog with a heart for daredevilry. The project sits naturally within McCarthy’s larger practice, which moves between drawing, assemblage, happenings and collective actions.

Clad in a black balaclava and fetish climbing wear, she abseils from buildings before entering the stage. For the first performance in New York City, she was invited by Kyp Malone of TV on the Radio to perform at his club Francis Kite Club in Alphabet City, NYC and since has continued to make a name for herself hanging off façades, singing, dancing and mopping the floor together with her performance collaborators Miss Philip a.k.a. Philip Errico and Michael Tapper at Pianos NYC, Kottbusser Tor and Genezarethkirche Berlin or the Villa Stuck Museum in Munich.

The album was produced in Munich and New York in 2025 in collaboration with her brother Nick McCarthy (Franz Ferdinand) and Anton Kaun (Rumpeln). What started as a quick improv turned into a high-energy 4-hour session of the siblings playing manic ball with beats, bass, guitars and vocals resulting in what laid the basis to this album. In the weeks following, Anna McCarthy, who is known for her cut-up production style, reminiscent of albums such as White Noise or Flying Lotus, continued to develop the vocals, performance and music by mixing in an amalgam of field recordings with her narrative spoken word, including sounds of protests, dollar stores or ice-cream trucks, as well as collaborating with the noise artist Rumpeln for the last two tracks of the album.

McCarthy is also known as the lyricist and singer of What Are People For? (debut 2022 on Alien Transistor) with its dystopic dance music candy-cane shows and equally humorously critical tongue-in-cheek bangers such as Bring back the Dirt, Drones or Partytime. Anna McCarthy's spoken word, social urgency and enthusiasm to experiment across mediums is comparable to other contemporaries such as Moor Mother, Miho Hatori, Gonjasufi, Tricky, or Cibo Matto.

The name itself is telling. Rubbermaidxxx evokes elasticity, artificiality, domestic labour and the commercial world of cleaning and garbage. It suggests a body capable of stretching, absorbing filth and cleaning up after society – only to revolt against the role it has been assigned.

Rubbermaidxxx is a master of deception, juggling fact and fiction as a reflection of our times – a diamond thief, a protester, or even responsible for the Louvre heist? This album invites the listener and viewer in, playfully dismantling hierarchies and power structures as she goes through a hopeful amalgam of dance, protest & love songs.

In 2023, Kraków-based composer Martyna Basta and Los Angeles-based sound artist claire rousay were invited to Poland by Unsound for a short residency, where they spent a few days trading ideas and concepts, and brainstorming their first collaboration. Initially motivated to create lengthy, expansive pieces together, they also ended up experimenting with shorter vignettes, and ‘hotel room’ expresses these two extremes, featuring three long-form tracks and three brief, euphoric songs. “It wasn’t something we specifically planned,” explains Basta. “It just unfolded that way.” The most important stage of the process, however, was the period that followed the residency, when rousay and Basta began working on their sketches in isolation, trading drafts and sculpting the sounds independently before rousay handled the final mixdown. In the comfort of their own bedrooms, they were better able to reflect their individual creative routines, organically reaching a junction where their music felt truly unified. Even while they were in Poland, the duo joked that it might have been easier if they’d been holed up in separate rooms emailing each other.

Both artists have had an energetic few years: after steadily building a reputation for her diaristic and candid concrète experiments, rousay signed to Thrill Jockey in 2023, releasing the acclaimed ‘sentiment’, ‘a little death’ and the more eaze collaboration ‘no floor’; Basta, meanwhile, followed up 2023’s hallucinatory ‘Slowly Forgetting, Barely Remembering’ and her debut for Belgium’s Stroom imprint, ‘Diaries Beneath Fragile Glass’ with a studio album on !K7’s 7K sublabel: ‘Winged in Collapse’. The title of their collaboration reflects rousay and Basta’s hectic touring schedules in the wake of these releases, the constant feeling of displacement and the emotions that emerge when the environment is in flux. “I know we aren’t the only musicians traveling and creating work at the same time,” says rousay, “but being able to speak about that experience and all the things that come with it was comforting.” And the music itself, assembled from hypnagogic field recordings, spectral voices, electronics and filtered instrumental improvisations, sounds bewitchingly unmoored, not tied to a specific location but hovering around the uncanny space in-between.

Scratchy ASMR sounds introduce us to the opening track ‘zoom’, initially obscuring the duo’s elegiac harmonies. They are careful to let the various elements evolve at their own pace, with the fictile guitar drones melting into the foreground while Basta’s dissociated whispers and rousay’s illusory synths pick out the subtlest subliminal shades. It all builds to the piece’s dramatic third act, when layered chords ring out like organ blasts, enveloping the negative space. The shorter, more anxiety-provoking ‘denim’ is remarkably divergent, a dismantled folk memory pieced together from skeletal piano notes, vaporous choral echoes, haunting string plucks and pulsating feedback. Where the music aligns is in the mood itself, capturing a feeling that’s neither completely abstract nor fully referential. Not ambient exactly, ‘hotel room’ is a suite of soundscapes that gesture towards structure while repeatedly folding in on themselves.

On ‘Lost and Found’, wordless Autotuned ad-libs spiral around delicate guitar plucks and washing waves, coalescing into a faded Polaroid of opiated Americana, and on ‘Where Are You Now’, operatic squeals and corroded orchestral scrapes are juxtaposed with nauseous low-end tones. Evaporating until only industrial whirrs and music box chimes remain, the latter encapsulates the entire album’s chilling liminality, smudging saturated voices with casual electro-acoustic interjections before it erupts abruptly, transforming into a dense, pitch-skewed hymn. ‘hotel room’ plays like a surreal travelogue, teasing listeners with airy familiarities as it humidifies dry, awkward spaces. More a labyrinth of catacombs than a single, fixed chamber, it’s Escher-like – cryptic and seductive – and decked out with personal asides and intimate details that reward the most patient, curious listeners.

Cindytalk has remained a majestic proposition over the decades, one marked by a continued process of disintegration and regeneration. Change has been a constant for Cindytalk, as has been the presence of the Scottish musician Cinder, who has fronted the project since the early '80s. The first Cindytalk albums embraced a dark theatricality of post-punk dissonance and abject rock deconstruction that coupled industrial dirges with Cinder's beatific vocals, these same vocals that were once plied to the earliest This Mortal Coil and Cocteau Twins recordings,forever binding Cinder to the 4AD lore. But even on those albums, Camouflage Heart and In This World, Cinder was pushing the band to embrace the studio as a tool for further abstraction of sodden drones, cobwebbed dark elegance, and decayed textures.

By the early aughts, Cinder had reimagined Cindytalk through the granular processes of digitalia with a handful of equally celebrated works of glitch-born expressionism for Editions Mego. Cinder explains that "those elements were growing roots under our sound and had started to organically change the shape of what we were doing. The fucked-up rock music was in retreat and the electro-acoustic abstractions were becoming apparent. Fast forward to the early part of the 21st Century and my first laptop. It seemed natural where I needed to begin that part of my new sonic journey. To further explore those and new territories. Sunset and Forever is intrinsically connected to what came before."

Sunset and Forever is a labyrinthine opus, one that returns to the themes of the sacred and profane that have rippled through all of Cindytalk's recordings, albeit in various guises. The opening track "Embers of Last Leaves" is a haunted piece of undulated, cyclical tones that entwine into a sorrowful chorale with Cinder's own voice. Thumps of electronic drum kicks and bass drops dot the apocalyptic menace of "Tower of the Sun" but serve not as a rhythmic grid, but as painterly noises that further disrupt and disturb the machined dissonance. A cinematic radioluminescence blooms from the tempered electronics within "For Those Eyes, Shadows Of Flowers." The finale "I See Her in Everywhere" bookends the opening number with a seemingly human chorus build from electronic tones cast in cathedral reverence. Sounds throughout may appear adjacent to those of Fennesz, Holly Herndon, or even Lovesliescrushing from time to time, but Sunset and Forever remains purely Cindytalk.

Cover designed by Chris Bigg, known for his iconic design work for 4AD. Mastered by James Plotkin.

Texas-based producer Declan James runs the VOIDWARE imprint and events, also listing music on labels such as Edit Select Records, Max Gardner's Peer, drxvo's Synergie, and Secus' Rituals amongst others. The Dallas native is making a significant contribution to the upcoming generation of American techno producers with both a domestic and international touring schedule.

Beginning with "Pendulums," a classic sci-fi trip with modular bleeps amidst a slinking, bouncing rhythm section for a perfect lesson in patience and restraint.

"Levitation" has an otherworldly feeling and floats along a sparse track of swirling drones, chugging bass pulses, and classy percussion taps for a mesmerising and introspective journey.

"Transmutate" throws down a stuttering kick drum, haunting tones, and bending modular notes for a grooving yet dystopian analogue concoction.

The final track "Absolved" sees a deep dive into details and dub influences. Where eerie rattles and precision production form a memorable dose of sizzling hot, futuristic, and fantastic techno.

Texas-based producer Declan James runs the VOIDWARE imprint and events, also listing music on labels such as Edit Select Records, Max Gardner's Peer, drxvo's Synergie, and Secus' Rituals amongst others. The Dallas native is making a significant contribution to the upcoming generation of American techno producers with both a domestic and international touring schedule.

Beginning with "Pendulums," a classic sci-fi trip with modular bleeps amidst a slinking, bouncing rhythm section for a perfect lesson in patience and restraint.

"Levitation" has an otherworldly feeling and floats along a sparse track of swirling drones, chugging bass pulses, and classy percussion taps for a mesmerising and introspective journey.

"Transmutate" throws down a stuttering kick drum, haunting tones, and bending modular notes for a grooving yet dystopian analogue concoction.

The final track "Absolved" sees a deep dive into details and dub influences. Where eerie rattles and precision production form a memorable dose of sizzling hot, futuristic, and fantastic techno.

For his second output on his own label, the Swiss electronic composer Robin Félix, takes this time the listener to West-Africa ; that said, Incantation is lightyears away from “world music”, but closer to the first “Fourth World” LP Jon Hassell recorded with Brian Eno. Moreover, Robin has teamed up with fellow Swiss sculptor, Christian Pauchon, who makes “woodoorina”, inspired by “bolis”, some rather objects used by the Bamanas in Mali and neighbouring countries, that ethnologists view as “fascinating mediators between man and his environment” ; a topic that led the Mauritanian Abderrahmane Sissako and Damon Albarn to compose the opera, The Theft of the Boli. Right from the outset of Goat Skin, one realises that Robin has applied his idiosyncratic way of (mis)treating field-recordings, to dissect and re-model an array of woodoorina calls (sometimes close to drones) entwined to a rhythmic pulse, conjuring up a starry night under which a shaman, adresses his incantations to the spirits of Nature. Robin Félix being who he is, as soon as Corten, his form of quiet electronics show that he is no stranger to Throbbing Gristle or Cosey Fanni Tutti, the self-explanatory Ritual Smoke taking it a little further. The spellbinding organic basses of Rains and Cauris, fused to textures that remind the experiments of David Toop and the electroacoustics of Pierre Henry, lead the listener even deeper into a contemporary avatar of a spiritual journey. In tune with the “call and response” mode, ubiquitous in African music, Pangi brings the EP even closer to the beating heart of the continent, the interactions of the sculptor and the composer blending to such a point that one may wonder if they have exchanged roles. As a meeting point of disciplines and art forms which are not supposed to meet, Incantation is also a convincing demonstration of what the word “inspiration” means, the superb visuals included ; of course, it requires a lot of finesse and respect on all sides

AN ATLAS OF LOSS

Do minerals dream of becoming semiconductors? Do they yearn to carry charges, amplify, switch, and convert energy into emotions comprehensible to humans? And what if, from the darkness of the underground, they had been listening to us sing in caves before the emergence of the first flute? Could they have guided us, through the course of history, to find them, extract them, and create new sounds through sinusoidal waves, to form valves and bend circuits?

If so, minerals would transition from what philosopher Eugene Thacker defines as the ‘planet’—that virginal and unreachable realm for humans that we study through geology, paleontology, and environmental sciences—to the ‘world,’ the space we inhabit, interpret, and synthesise in our daily lives. Sadly, we only remember the world when it erupts violently, through climate catastrophes or when a new virus emerges. Sometimes a tsunami collides with a nuclear plant, or viruses are cultivated as biological weapons in high-security laboratories, provoking a deep biological anxiety, hard to quell, which we all feel beneath our skin.

There exists a third realm, disconnected from both the world and the planet: the ‘earth’, an immense, dense rock floating in space alongside other planets, situated in the cosmological dimension. Relating to the earth is so complex that we only do so through theoretical speculations of a scientific nature or through science fiction, interweaving until one becomes the prophecy of the other, in an infinite, pendular dance. Beyond the darkness of space and Lovecraft’s cosmic horror, the fantasy of human extinction is the most recurrent: to reach a collapse so devastating that we do not survive it, even though the earth does, without us.

In a world where we quantify everything through body sensors, financial algorithms, nanometre-scale robots, and surveillance drones—a world in which everything that can be domesticated and controlled can also be commodified—a superior artificial intelligence would survive the collapse of the species (some speculate it might even cause it) and learn from our mistakes, thanks to our obsessive gathering of data.

Long after our voices fade, minerals will persist in the darkness of screens, in the silicon of chips, and in their pure form, still unexploited underground. Over the millennia, this intelligence might piece together fragments of our reasoning, as if an alien civilization finally connected with one of our spacecrafts loaded with messages cast into the void. It would sort through endless streams of data, unable to grasp the depths of emotion behind what it quantified, recreating simulations of our past, stripped of the nuance that once defined us and conducting experiments in sandboxes.

Some remnants of our existence—faint echoes of forgotten beauty—would be pieced together in an atlas of loss, buried beneath layers of numbers, decayed bots, and corroded hard drives. What will follow? Perhaps bison will once again roam—trotting to the strange pulse of techno, their ancient forms framed by the ruins of our cities.

Buildings will crumble, slowly dissolving under the soft touch of ambient music, and a thousand flowers will bloom with that ancient music created through electrical signals and computation. 7 songs for a future both improbable and inevitable—a final message from a world lost to itself, from planet Earth to planet Earth.

Alfons Pich, 2025

Seattle's own Manatee Commune (aka Grant Eadie) makes his long-awaited return to
Bastard Jazz with his fourth album, 'Simultaneity'. Lush and vibrant production is
familiar to his previous works, though Eadie has significantly matured in the activation of
space and character. A step away from standard songwriting, and a total disassociation
from lyrics at all, has made this record closer to the ambient genre than anything
Manatee Commune has released, all the while keeping one solid foot in the realm of
dance music.

'Simultaneity', as a whole, is an exploration of the collision between texture and time.
Captured recordings reminiscent of wind in wheatgrass, soft rain showers in the open
plains, and cascading beach sand wash over the mix, splashing into warm drones and
ascending melodies that cleanly syncopate against a steady rhythm. Though decidedly
electronic at times, a raw human element is ever-present in the form of a vocal motif:
just tiny moments of a loving voice lost in a sea of reverberation.

The album is a noticeably positive evolution from previous works. All nine tracks depict
a calmness and subtlety in musicianship, relying primarily on tenuous snippets of live
instrumentation and synthesis that hypnotically coil and coalesce with one another.
'Love Tone', the opening track, features Eadie's partner, a small voice memo clipped
and expanded into an ethereal vocal melody. A crisp felt piano delivers a complex
arpeggiation in 'Mosaic', a warm sonic bath scape reminiscent of Olafur Arnalds or
Kiasmos. Simple, undemanding bass lines drive tracks 'Path' and 'Faulted', though their
simplicity is contrasted with a variety of patterns that combine to create unique auditory
shapes, both building and landing in satisfying climactic movement. The album
culminates in the final track, 'Touch Theme', where a block of sound in the form of a
broad, open synthetic chord warms the ears, eventually twisting and shifting to rhythmic
chunks that shove against a familiar house rhythm.

microCastle’s second offering of 2024 welcomes Upercent back to the label for a new EP. Since first appearing in 2011, Valencia based sound architect Upercent has developed a distinct brand of electronic futurism. An enthusiastic attitude towards experimentation, coupled with extraordinary creative vision has made the Spaniard one of the more unique artists to emerge in the last decade. Upercent’s first microCastle project, 2018’s 'Vuit', not only served as the imprint's second ever vinyl release, but continued the Valencia resident’s mission to create contemporary club tools and destabilizing sound explorations. Seemingly in constant motion moving forward, Upercent would go on to record projects for Diynamic, Kompakt and Watergate, amongst others, firmly establishing his place amongst the underground’s premiere talents. Now more than five years on from this elusive string of projects, it has been Habitat, Innervisions, Sum Over Histories and TAU which have been vehicles for his creative swell over the last two calendar years, reminding us of the niche he carved out during his initial rise, as he continues to maneuver himself through the confines of electronic music. With 2024 being highlighted by ‘Falling’, a two-track collaborative project with Germany’s Adana Twins, Upercent now returns to microCastle with ‘Persevere’.

Beginning with the organic monochromes of ‘Oracle’, Upercent’s craftsmanship reveals itself across the slow-burning piece, one where funked-up beats and rubbery basslines get peppered with skittering rhythms, thought provoking vocal samples and glitched-out electronics. Its subdued yet swing-heavy suspense while perfect for an astute dancefloor, also acts as an ideal segue into the hopeful qualities of ‘As It May See’. Paul Brenning’s vocals feature here, falling like raindrops atop woody kick drums and clustered sonics, eventually giving way to an interlude of soulful phrasing, coaxing beautifully with granular textures and ghostly swirls of wind, before tastefully moving forward as panoramic arps emerge for a mesmerizing finale.

Upercent’s distinct aesthetic continues on the fourth selection ‘Cult’. Perhaps the most direct composition on the EP, its six-minute running time quickly sets you adrift in a techno-inspired wasteland of deconstructed vocals and retro chord stabs. Both intimate and wide-ranging, it's a series of crystal-like drones which engulf your attention whole, creating a sombre, ceremonial backdrop for misty glitches and fog-like swells to create a scenic storyboard. Reverberating hits and twitchy rhythms fill the space of closer ‘Blau Cel’, a production where Upercent crafts a trek through mountainous dancefloor trails. Unbound by gravity, orchestral gestures sweep across mossy plains and frost-filled sighs, offering listeners another immersive journey into the uncharted realms of musical expression.

April 2024 sees the launch of the Stratasonic imprint with the four-track ‘Accidental Effects’ by ANiML, a collaborative guise for the members of the collective behind the label.

Stratasonic is a new label founded by a German/Canadian collective operating out of LA whose roots dig deep into electronic music. By collaborating with artists new and legendary they’ll push the boundaries of the traditional music space into visual arts, video, events, digital and beyond. The collective’s philosophy is to reimagine the music, masters, and methods of the past in a modern context, exposing the world to the stuff they like. Here to inaugurate the label is ANIML, the project whose members will remain anonymous is inspired by the classic era of vinyl and analogue production with hints of 90’s nostalgia.

Title-cut ‘Accidental Effects’ leads the EP and lays down twitchy bass grooves, crisp, crunchy breaks and an amalgamation of hip hop vocals all dynamically pieced together and processed to create a raw, fluid dance floorworkout. ‘Mementos’ follows next and veers into a more immersive, cinematic electronica realm via subtly unfurling synth textures, murky bass swells, bumpy breaks, squelchy acid lines and hypnotic brass licks.

Opening the flip-side is ‘Day Dreaming’, shifting focus back to a raw off-kilter rhythm at its foundation while haunting synth lines ebb and flow amongst hooky vocal chants and bubbling echoes. ‘Formulaic Appeal’ then concludes the original material, a three minute ambient darkwave excursion through brooding analogue bass drones, heavily reverberated atmospherics and a ticking clock like percussive effect.

The first track of the EP is a prog-heavy requiem, laced with warped synths and a percussive softness inviting you to take it straight to the dance-floor. 'Wandt Uncorked's' sonic agility is framed by the kind of driving energy that only swells more as you move, offering a new rhythm layer by layer.
Offering dreamy synths with echoes of 'A Hundred Days Off'-era Underworld, 'Gottesfuß' bends into a sprawling, sexy-weird five minutes of bliss. Building with a familiar-feeling vibrato and the cosiest anchor of bass, the second track from Niklas is your backdrop for mid dance-floor moments and after-hours alike in love.
The B-side to Wandt’s latest EP glides through every unchartered subaquatic realm imaginable. Slick breaks blend evenly into myriad underwater drones and/or extra terrestrial cries to form a deftly cast soundscape that truly highlights Wandt’s prowess as a percussionist.

Sleep Now Forever is the second and final album released by Sorrow, the post-Strawberry Switchblade group fronted by singer Rose McDowall. Originally released in 1999 and long since deleted it is a cornucopia of pastoral, elegiac folk music, swirling atmospherics, hymnal compositions and above it all the alternating towering and fragile vocal performances of McDowall. Recorded in the late 90s with fellow band member and co-songwriter Robert Lee, Sleep Now Forever is the definitive statement by the now defunct group and Rose McDowall’s most complete long-form work to date.
Released through the group’s own Piski Disk Records, Sleep Now Forever was distributed by World Serpent which struggled through the early 2000s with financial woes, eventually folding due to bankruptcy in 2004. Due to the company’s troubles, Sleep Now Forever was never distributed widely and was a victim of the company’s failure. Released on CD only, original copies are now rare and only traded on second hand channels. Remastered by Mikey Young for a limited vinyl release, Sleep Now Forever will be released on April 20th on double vinyl format, with one side an exclusive etching by Glasgow artist Holly Allan.
Despite its rarity, Sleep Now Forever enjoys a firm cult following. The album’s textures are expansive, lush, deliciously detailed and celestial. Recorded in home study Velvet Hole by Rose McDowall and then-husband Robert Lee, the album enlists an array of players from the underground Neo-folk / industrial scene: Nigel McKernaghan (Uilleann pipes, Whistles), Susan Franknel (Bassoon), John Contreras (Cello) and Lawrence Frankel (Oboe, Cor Anglais). The eleven songs here revolve around McDowall’s instantly recognisable voice. Brought up singing in the Catholic Church, McDowall’s vocals are impeccable and angelic, particularly on tracks like Turn Off The Light where her experiences with religion are canted over soaring oboe and guitar backing. By far the most evolved and realised version of Sorrow’s vision, it feels somewhat criminal that music this beautiful could be lost to time until now.
McDowall’s lyrics throughout Sleep Now Forever deal frankly with mental health, depression, altered states, death and redemption. Wave upon wave of harmony drench each song, McDowal’s vocal multi-tracked and imperious. Opener Soldier benefits from Robert Lee’s use of the studio as instrument, summoning forth a lilting group performance of sparkling guitar and percussion that recalls the Velvet Underground. Mikey Love’s master treats the compositions to brand new frequency dynamics and space. Harmonium and string drones form the counter to McDowall’s vocal on Love Dies, a slow, lurching lament that feels transcendent. On Haunting, the arrangement is orchestral and aching, bleeding into Fear Becomes You, with chord and harmony structure that recalls the baroque sixties pop of West Coast Pop Experimental Art Band or the 60s psychedelic folk movement. A towering, beautiful statement, this elegy for times lost and moonlit-illumination is finally resurfacing from the darkness.

“Sainen Hildo” is an album based on Miguel’s original compositions, recomposed and rearranged for accordion and voice by the two composers. Using the natural resonance and harmonics of these two instruments to influence their introspective interactions, resulting in evolving drones and tones and puzzling percussive outbursts. Unusual and at times unsettling, they manage to create a calibrated, deep and complex exploratory universe of ambience and drone where listening becomes a ritual. Highest recommendation for fans of Pauline Oliveros, Eliane Radigue or Phill Niblock.

Garazi Navas (accordion + voice). Original compositions by Miguel A. García. Recomposed and rearranged by Garazi Navas & Miguel A. García. Recorded by Ibon Rg at Azkuna Zentroa (Contemporary Art Centre in Bilbao) in June 2022, as part of the associated artists program. Mixing and mastering by Juan Carlos Blancas. Compiled by Mikel Acosta.

Acrylic painting on heavyweight paper by Maite Mugerza Ronse. Limited edition of 300 black vinyl LP’s housed in a coloured matt laminated cover. Released by Hegoa Diskak.

Dopelganger is the project in collaboration between classically trained accordion player and singer Garazi Navas (Usansolo, Bizkaia-Biscay, 1995) and Miguel A. Garcia (Vitoria-Gasteiz), an artist living in Bilbao with an extensive career in the fields of experimental music and sound art.

Garazi Navas / Classically trained at Musikene School of Music in San Sebastian with a masters in traditional music, Garazi, is a restless accordionist who, despite her young age, has taken part in a multitude of projects in theater, poetry, ballet, art installations and even playing with the Bilbao Symphony Orchestra. Her works are a personal interpretation of the close relationship which she feels exists between cutting-edge and traditional music.

Miguel A. García / Has performed extensively in Europe, America and Asia, both as a solo artist, improvising and in multiple ensembles. He has collaborated with dozens of artists (Al Karpenter, Jean Luc Guionnet, Sébastien Branche...) in studio and live, and appeared in more than a hundred albums. At the same time, he is organizer and curator of events, being founder of Club Le Larraskito, director of Zarata Fest, and part of the coordination of the cycle Hotsetan at Azkuna Zentroa itself

Following up last year’s Acrobatic Thoughts album, Panoram delves even deeper into his own musical universe with Keep Looking Where The Light Comes From. We find the producer in confident form, exploring the fuzzy fringes of beauty and chaos. The result is an album that sounds even more like himself and yet surprising at each turn.


Opening track Feathers sounds like only Panoram can, buzzy arpeggiated distortion takes flight somewhere in the direction of a distant multiverse where Animal Collective and Boards of Canada soundtracked Koyaanisqatsi. But the psychedelic drift is all Panoram’s own, conjuring a stark sense of the uncanny with the repeated phrases. The digital guitar and vocal loops of I Can Only Repeat Your Love are practically on the brink of collapsing in on themselves, to the point where the structure begins to shift like a collapsing monument. Flat Stones nods towards ASMR, as flute and woodwind tones caress the ears and a whispered voice teases out an altered state.


It’s this dreamlike mood that pervades the whole album, a maximal effect that’s wrung from minimalist compositions. The Wide House picks up the baton from Laurie Anderson to trip gently through different states of awareness, while the piano patterns of Blank Sheep float through the synth ambience like ideas entering an empty dream. There Is A Hole Here is another mutant loop that unravels as it proceeds - the rhythms turn into a pulse, and despite what the lyrics say, it does indeed mess around with your brain.


Panoram balances dance tropes, classical composition, ambient drones and a washed out, fuzzy twist on avant garde pop, and manages to transform it all into a uniform whole that fits all those puzzle pieces together. Yet such is the assuredness of Panoram’s production that it sounds effortless. At this point, the music is more like a midwife, manifesting your future self‘s enlightened consciousness with surreal effect.

"Drums from heaven, keys from Mars, a bass made from mother earth's soil and guitars from a guy who's time-traveling from German Kraut in the last 60ies into the next 60ies and who happens to gift us today with this funky, dirty, pulsating, delicious music that's everything which music is supposed to be: ALIVE! (Note to self: Always keep a copy of this record in your suitcase!)." (Malakoff Kowalski)

"Afrokraut" is a stylistic expression of Krautrock, primarily associated with Can, and their creative use of time and space in music. "A Guide To Afrokraut III" is David Nesselhauf´s third and last contribution to the dusty shrine of this long forgotten style.

Next to "Afrokraut" (2016) and "Afrokraut II: The Lowbrow Manifesto" (2018), this album completes a humble sonic Trypticon in honour of David Nesselhauf's musical heroes. Experimentation was key in the immersive process of producing this album, which encompasses elements of Funk, Afrobeat and Krautrock as well as otherworldly Drones, early Elektronische Musik and even field recordings.

Inspired by the unfinished manuscript 'History Deletes Itself' by the late science fiction author Joseph Sabiers, Nesselhauf decided to produce a b-movie soundtrack to the original plot, ignoring the fact that there will likely never be a movie to this music.

In the original script, a virus has infected history, the resulting changes of historical facts leading to an unpredictable present and future for mankind. Every attempt to solve the problem – including time travelling – only worsens the situation. But three planets at the end of the known universe seem to be unaffected by the phenomenon, they become a sanctuary known as 'Afrokraut III'. Three brothers arrive there to start new lives. They are introduced to The Guide, their mysterious advisor...

The striking parallels to today's uncertainties, a strong feeling of hope and the idea to never stop exploring (come what may) certainly have encouraged the making of this album, which sees a belated release due to the obstacles everyone faces right now.

David Nesselhauf lives in Hamburg/Germany and appears as a bass player/songwriter in bands like Hamburg Spinners, The Drawbars, Diazpora, and Angels Of Libra.

repress

"The haunting ambience of Beat fit somewhat with the then-popular Massive Attack and Portishead, but the album's subsonic drone made it more of a minimal mood piece than a collection of songs." MAGNET

The second in a trio of albums released by the core duo of Lawrence Chandler and Martha Schwendener, Beat is without doubt their definitive artistic statement.

Coming 20 years to the day of its original release, this is the first time this album has been available on vinyl in almost two decades, and the first ever U.S. vinyl release. (Was released here on Beggars Banquet, original copies very hard to find..)

The second album from New York City's Bowery Electric was released in late 1996, less than 15 months after their self-titled debut, but it found them having traveled light years musically in the interim, the group having seemingly decided to see how far they could take the guitar/ bass/ drums/ vocal setup into the atmosphere.

Every aspect of their approach had been refined and focused: squalling, distorted guitars had been transformed into hazy, sensual sheets; the live drums transmuted to sampled rhythms more in debt to the blossoming downtempo sound of the day; bass lines reduced to their most basic diagrams; vocals submerged to become one with the narcotized fog of the instruments; even the lyrics were reduced to a few minimal lines used sparingly so as not to overshadow the dynamic.

Beat is a lush and dense mantra of shadowy percussion, barely-there vocals and immersive drones that envelops the listener in an opiated blanket of sound.

quotes:

"Bowery Electric have made something utterly astonishing here. So deep, so wide, and somehow as intimate as a train crash. The first six tracks are just the most crushingly beautiful thing I've heard in 1997; the last five are even better. Good god, THIS IS IT." Melody Maker

"While cymbals shower down over the songs like a torrent of shattered glass, their austere beauty is never static. Ambience has rarely sounded so messy." Exclaim

A near-perfect mix of shifting dance beats, menacing electronic drones, analogue bleeps,
syncopated rhythms and ethereal vocals." Now UK

Biosphere is the main recording name of Geir Jenssen (born 30 May 1962),(1) a Norwegian musician who has released a notable catalogue of ambient electronic music. He is well known for his works on ambient techno and arctic themed pieces, his use of music loops, and peculiar samples from sci-fi sources. His 1997 album Substrata was voted by the users of the Hyperreal website in 2001 as the best all-time classic ambient album.

Patashnik was originally released by R&S Records/Apollo in 1994. It was number 1 in NME´s Independent Chart in March 1994 and reached number 50 in the UK official album chart.

The track Novelty Waves was used in Michel Gondry's Levi's 501 Jeans "Drugstore" spot, and holds - according to the Guinness World Records 2004, the record for "Most awards won by a TV commercial".

One reason why Jenssen's work stands out from the flood of early '90s ambient/techno releases is his strong sense of the quirkily creepy -- not in an Aphex Twin mode, but in his own particular way. The contrasting samples of a child quaveringly saying, "We had a dream last night," followed by a rougher sample saying, "We had the same dream," gives opening number "Phantasm" an unsettling feeling. Intensified by the, on the one hand, pretty, on the other, disturbing music, buried synth strings and a soft pulse accentuated by clattering noises deep in the mix, it kicks off the striking Patashnik very well. Though not as openly dark as acts like Lull, for instance, Biosphere still has an edge which isn't just melancholic, it's downright ominous at point. There's the slow crawl of "Startoucher," for instance, with its buried vocal snippets and deep bass drone, or the blend of the space signal atmospheres of "Mir" into the low, brooding intro to "The Shield." Not everything is so shadowy, though, Patashnik is primarily a relax and chill listening experience, but not without its gentle high points. "Novelty Waves," which became a crossover single in some quarters, has a good dancefloor sharpness to it even as Jenssen slyly sneaks in odd drones and samples through the mix. The opening snippet talking about an extraterrestrial disc jockey on "SETI Project" is good for a smile, as well as acting as a sharp lead-in to a fast rhythm track. Mostly, though, things continue on a deliciously unnerving pace throughout, gentle enough to go down easy but still just off enough to ensure you can't call this new age folderol for the rave generation.

For her new and most radical album »Electroacoustic Works for Halldorophone«, Martina Bertoni used the electronic instrument at EMS Stockholm to create four pieces that are massive in scale and incredibly intimate, sonically restrained and emotionally overwhelming—almost ambient and always demanding your full attention.

Martina Bertoni returns to Karlrecords with »Electroacoustic Works for Halldorophone,« her most radical album yet. The foundation for the four electroacoustic pieces was laid during a residency at Stockholm’s legendary Elektronmusikstudion (EMS) that the Berlin-based cellist and composer used to explore the curious instrument, originally designed by Halldór Úlfarsson in 2008, as an algorithmic system in order to examine tunings and the mathematical relationships between Aiming to analyse and understand their interaction beyond the composer’s control, Bertoni sought to engage more deeply with the concepts of time, tuning, and, most importantly, control. Accordingly, her four »Electroacoustic Works for Halldorophone« seem both massive in scale and incredibly intimate, sonically restrained and emotionally overwhelming— almost ambient and always demanding your full attention.

While the halldorophone—famously used by Hildur Guðnadóttir for her »Joker« score—roughly resembles a cello and can be played like one, it is an electronic instrument. The vibration of its strings is being picked up, amplified, and then routed through a speaker. This creates a feedback loop that becomes increasingly complex depending on how much gain is added to individual strings. Úlfarsson gave Bertoni a carte blanche for how to handle the instrument, but she stresses that she relied on »minimal interventions—some string strumming and plucking« that set the interactions of different sounds and frequencies into motion. »I decided to not approach it like a cellist would,« she explains. »Instead I used it as a kind of generative organ by turning it into a feedback machine, with tuned feedback triggering more feedback depending on the tuning, which was based on tetraphonic scales that I could apply on the four main strings as well as the sympathetic group of strings.«

Bertoni recorded the material in the EMS studio, later composing and arranging the four complex pieces in her home in Berlin, after which they were mixed and mastered by Ciaran O’Shea. While this can be considered a compositional abstraction process, traces of her concrete work as a performer are firmly ingrained in the music. »The halldorophone doesn’t have a line output, just a double set of speakers, which is why I recorded all sounds with two microphones in the EMS studio,« she explains. »That’s why there’s plenty of breathing sounds here and there—label owner Thomas Herbst and I jokingly refer to the album as my ›chamber music record‹.« And indeed, there is a striking sense of intimacy to these four pieces throughout which individual sounds, harmonic frequencies, and even subtle rhythmic figures seem to move both on their own accord but also according to a underlying vision that steers their interplay.

Indeed, »Electroacoustic Works for Halldorophone« is an album built on and marked by contrasts. The soothing polylogue of single sounds in the higher register on opener »Omen in G« is counterpointed by massive bass drones, while the second piece, »Nominal in D,« plays a cunning game of repetition and difference by combining thick textures with all kinds of rhythmic elements. »Fades in C«—the longest of the four pieces, clocking in at 17 minutes—unlocks the emotional potentials of the sonic qualities of the halldorophone, sounding at once serene and anthemic, and »Organon in D« closes the album by underscoring how Bertoni’s unconventional approach allows her to seamlessly transform simple, quiet tones into complex, towering walls of sound.

Michaela Turcerová’s compositions unfold in slow motion. The saxophonist and composer’s glacial music zeroes in on the granularities of each note as it rings, soaking in every subtle shift in texture and pitch.

Šumum exemplifies this patient approach to writing music, branching out from themes of loss and togetherness into an intricate tapestry of introspective sound. These four pieces invite deep collaboration between performers, who together shape the music through the shared process of listening and interpreting Turcerová’s relatively open scores. And while these works often grow from long, stretched-out tones, they also foreground forward direction: no note stays in one place, no melody is without action. Instead, Šumum chronicles how the tiniest shifts can lead to major transformation.

Šumum builds from Turcerová’s longheld interests in place and minimalism. Many of the composer’s works explore perception: how a room can shape the music we hear, and how repetition alters a melody. Like the music of Éliane Radigue, Šumum embraces the rainbow of colors that appear when close listening with the wave-like flow of looped melodic and rhythmic patterns. All the album’s pieces observe the subtle changes that happen as music grows.

Group communication yields the constant evolution that defines Šumum. The album feels like a conversation, with each instrumentalist swapping phrases or trading places when the moment feels right. “Straty” builds from a series of strongly accented drones that appear as quickly as they fade away; underneath them is a perpetual rhythm that drives the color of each long held note, from melancholy into radiance and back again. With “Vlny,” pitch eventually disappears, leaving a delicate rhythm, and with “Masy,” a matrix of brassy tones link together and eventually burst. No matter where the music goes, one thing remains true: Šumum invites close listening, and in the process, reveals the beauty of continual motion.

“Released on Joe Boyd’s Hannibal label here was a band rooted in Thompson/Swarbrick Fairport but also a snatch of the Velvet Underground and a sprig of The Byrds. The Eighteenth Day Of May evoked a legendary era, and now they are a justifiably legendary band too.” – KLOF Mag

Beginning life as a trio in London, 2003, the original line-up consisted of Allison Brice (vocals, flute), Richard Olson (acoustic guitar) and Ben Phillipson (guitar, mandolin) before expanding the following year to include the rhythm section of Mark Nicholas (bass) and Karl Sabino (drums, autoharp) and finally Alison Cotton (viola).
This being the mid zeros, the independent music scene in the UK was reluctant to embrace a sun-dazed folk band but this, their sole album, has gradually feathered a bed of affection amongst international folk fans. Twenty years on, the album is now rightfully seen as a trailblazer for the myriad alternative/psych folk bands that emerged in its wake.
Andy Childs who signed the band originally takes up the story. “I first heard their music on a cover mounted CD with the much missed Comes With A Smile magazine and as far as I could tell no-one was making music like this anymore, certainly not with such panache and confidence. To my jaded ears it all sounded so uninhibited - old weird folk songs, Americana, original psych-folk, minimalist drones. Great melodies and all six of them could sing! A joyous, unfettered sound that could in one moment conjure up flashes of The Byrds and then effortlessly the spirit of Velvet Underground would drift through. They even covered a Spacemen 3 song. I loved the fact that they had the aplomb to tackle traditional folk songs like Lady Margaret and Flowers In The Forest and not be afraid to stamp their own identity on them.
Signing them to the Hannibal label was straightforward. If anything the album somehow sounds fresh and undated, even better than it did in the day when perhaps eclecticism was out of synch with the times; its subtleties have become more apparent.”
“Their rendition of Lady Margaret builds to a headswirling crescendo that challenges anyone who claims Shirley Collins, Buffy Sainte-Marie or Trees have recorded the definitive version and the hallucinatory The Waterman’s Song To His Daughter raises an already brilliant album to an unholy level” - IT’S PSYCHEDELIC, BABY Magazine

'As I Slip Into the Sky reflects a particularly small sliver of time compared to Where the Smoke Goes, with recordings taking place in early 2025, while Johnny was bed-bound in an assisted living facility with multiple sclerosis. Alabama born, Portland based artist Joel Nelson helms the nearly entirely electronic backdrop, posing a new canvas for Johnny, with Buchla Music Easel bubbling up between Johnny’s lines. This album captures Johnny in a remarkably tender and emotive form. Love and all its permutations. The tangled, but caring nature of familial love, (“But you and me, we can talk on the phone every day. I would never leave you behind”), to the anguish and euphoria of romantic connection. Johnny has a remarkable ability to pose questions, ("What is real love like?), and provide answers that reflect the truest of realities, absent cliche ("I don't know. His curly hair, short on his head, his smile, his smile, his smile...that is what real love is like").
'Joel Nelson's nimble work across a small array of analog synthesizers creates a flowing backdrop to Johnny's stream of consciousness. At times, Broadcast's fuzzed out ballads come to mind, while at others, early Oneohtrix Point Never's gauzy, distant drones anchor beneath Johnny's slippery syntax.
'Johnny recorded his poems while confined to a hospital bed, through an iPhone laid gently on his chest. Assisted by the caring presence of friends John Albea and Lauren Jones, we can hear through these recordings Johnny immersed in his world of words, taking in the world of sounds Joel had provided for him. We hear his breath, at times we hear the harsh sibilance captured by the iPhone microphone, but more than anything, we hear the tenderness and poetic resolve of his caring soul. He was incredibly grateful for the past years of connecting with the small cohort of Birmingham-affiliated musicians and artists who upheld him as the unofficial poet laureate of "The Magic City", Birmingham, AL. Perhaps most appropriately, Johnny closes the album out in a state of gratitude:'

"My funeral was perfect
I was buried wearing a very charming jacket
A very charming jacket I just happened to have on when i died
He was always the lucky one, Mary-Ellen said
I've been looking for a nice casual jacket like that I could wear to casual little outdoor parties and to my funeral all my life
But Johnny just had one
Probably someone left it in his car
He was so lucky
It doesn't even make sense
But its true
He really was that lucky"

German-Turkish singer and composer Alev Lenz follows her self-released album 4 in a Cycle of Thirds (Jan 2026) with a complete, album length ambient rework by Simian Mobile Disco co-founder Jas Shaw. “The two records are very much intertwined," writes London-based German-Turkish singer and composer Alev Lenz. "I made 4 in a Cycle of Thirds with Jas in mind, inspired by a mix he created for my last album.” Lenz and Shaw have previously worked together on 2024 collaboration EP Bring Your Friends, as well as album mixes for Lenz' previous two solo records. Lenz' original album was created from a series of single-note drones, one for each note of the chromatic scale. "When I had this idea, I wanted Jas’ touch involved somehow. I asked him for drones on each note. He sent me 12 and I wrote most of the album listening to these drones. They eventually left the picture and were replaced by new drones I made, new sounds or vocals. But the memory of them lingers in the songs, like an imprint on the retina, an afterimage.

So naturally when the record was finished I sent the totality of it to Jas and said: here you go, make your versions!" 4 in a Cycle of Thirds in its original form touches on traditional folk musics, chamber music, contemporary composition, film score, and even interweaves subtle metal inflections, but now presented on double vinyl alongside Jas Shaw's versions as twin records, it has a newly foregrounded quietude, spectral and delicately nuanced. Through reduction, meticulous replacement, and sensitively applied edits, Shaw gently rebalances the light and shadow of the original pieces, coaxing new subtleties and harmonic resonance. "It occupies a space that is in-between the lines," describes Lenz. Shaw employs a "feedback system" he created for his piano, applied here to devastating effect. "Take the key bed off it and set up a resonators, mics and a mixer. Lots of gaffa tape, lots of precarious propping stuff open. You grub around on the floor and slowly the room fills with harmonics, it’s wonderful." And, on the relationship between the original record and these new versions, he explains "we could really let the songs drift into a different shape without worrying that we were missing elements that were great."

Alev Lenz is a singer, songwriter, composer, and producer born to a Turkish actor, activist, and artist mother and an Oscar-winning German engineer father. Alev’s creative foundation is as diverse as her musical output. Her solo discography includes three albums - Storytelling Piano Playing Fräulein (2009), Two-Headed Girl (2017), and 3 (2019). She has contributed vocals to scores by Oscar-winning composer Volker Bertelmann, including the US drama Conclave. She has collaborated with artists such as Anoushka Shankar, Jas Shaw (Simian Mobile Disco), Roomful of Teeth, and plenty more. Songwriter, composer, and producer Jas Shaw is best known for his work with Simian Mobile Disco, whom he co-founded in 2003. He mixed Alev Lenz' 2016 and 2019 albums Two-Headed Girl and 3, and also performs with Selling alongside Gold Panda, and Shaw & Grossfeldt with visual artist Bas Grossfeldt. Shaw and Lenz released the collaboration EP Bring Your Friends in 2024.

There is a particular kind of strangeness that arrives on long drives across Europe. Flat light, service stations and fields stretching endlessly past the window. It might look mundane at first glance, but becomes faintly surreal when the tiredness of touring blurs the edges of everything.

That feeling became the quiet engine behind Driving Through Belgium, the debut solo album from Anton Pearson, best known as one of the guitarists in respected post-punk outfit Squid. The title grew from a track that felt like the record’s centrepiece, which itself came from the recurring image of extensive periods on the road across the continent. It is a record shaped in the margins of touring, and finessed in the in-between hours.

Across six pieces, Pearson leans into atmosphere, texture and space. It is ambient in spirit, adjacent to contemporary classical in feeling, but composed less with notes in mind than with sound itself. The compositions rarely began with harmony or melody, with Pearson instead responding to his environment and sounds in real time, placing trust in his instinct.

Although initial inspiration came from the road, the album was recorded in a studio he shares in Brighton, and marks his first fully solo project made in that setting. It gave him access to not only new tools and techniques, but a hitherto un-experienced freedom. Much of the process began experimentally, feeding instruments into unfamiliar chains, pitching loops into unexpected registers and playing with previously unused synthesizers simply to see what they might reveal. Many of the sounds were created out of pure curiosity, wanting to understand a piece of equipment or technology, and then following wherever it led.

The album was built with this experimentation at its core, as Pearson would layer then extract, processing stacks of sound until things blur and confuse. Guitars dissolve into drones, a Pianet Clavinet dances against muddier textures whilst a Korg PS-1000 occasionally cuts through with its glittering top end. On ‘Driving Past the Muscular Cows in Belgium’, a flat, still drone is pushed through valve amps until it growls and tightens with tension, before receding again. Even the trumpet, which Pearson freely admits he is not technically proficient at, is embraced in its naivety, its squeaks left intact rather than corrected. The twin ‘Tintinnabulation’ pieces frame the record with looping, pitched bell like tones, accidental discoveries that became structural anchors. Meanwhile, ‘Teeth to Cut the Grass’ deliberately introduces abrasion, some of the harshest textures on the record, a refusal to become passive background music.


That embrace of imperfection is central. In contrast to the hyper-analytical precision of his band, Pearson was keen to honour first takes. If something felt good, it would stay. The end result is an album that favours looseness, instinct and the energy of creation itself. If Squid thrives on propulsion and tension, Anton Pearson finds his energy in suspension on Driving Through Belgium. It is curious rather than declarative, creating a space where experimentation feels playful again.

'Honesty Flowers' is the fourth studio album from Italian multi-instrumentalist Alessio Ferarri under the Upupayāma moniker. An epic double album set due for release May 29th 2026 on Fuzz Club, 'Honesty Flowers' finds Upupayāma's ever mind-blowing brew of organic psychedelic rock meets global grooves at its most percussive, lively and distorted. Equally hedonistic and heady, it courses through rhythmic funk grooves, doubled-down scorched fuzz riffing, winding motorik jams, tranquil drones and pastoral acid-folk across its seventy minute run time. A six-piece band live, where things take a more ever-evolving improvisation-based approach (see their recent 'Live At Fuzz Club Festival '25' LP), on the recordings Ferarri writes, plays and records everything himself – guitars, keys, flute, sitar, and an arsenal of percussion all feature. Never not working on new music, Ferarri started laying down these new tracks in his home barn studio in a small mountain village overlooking the city of Parma before its 2024 predecessor 'Mount Elephant' even hit the racks. The result was mixed by Chris Smith at Kluster Sounds (Kikagaku Moyo, Wax Machine) and mastered by Joseph Carra (King Gizzard, Babe Rainbow, ORB) On the new record, Ferarri says: "Honesty Flowers was born from listening to lots of funk music from all over the world, lots and lots of African music, and from listening to myself as I spent whole nights playing all kinds of percussion instruments. I would fall into a sort of trance and play the same rhythm for hours on congas or on a djembe. It's an album that was born above all from the beauty of being able to narrate the unknown and recognise yourself in it, which could translate into telling stories and bringing them to life.

Deaf Center travel through quiet pathways and grand boulevards in their fourth studio album “Through Time”.

Since their last full-length LP, “Low Distance” (2019), the duo has gradually shifted towards a more long-form electroacoustic sound which perhaps makes for their most immersive listening experience so far. Otto A Totland’s piano travels in less frequent rhythms than before, yet is felt even more as a relief in the quieter moments that contrast with Erik K Skodvin’s deep atmospheric worlds. There’s a searching quality within the record which feels like slow movements on the way towards something meaningful, capturing a sense of both peace and awe.

The latter part of the album takes a different turn: fluctuating electronic rhythms over deep strings create an ecstatic yet haunting duality. It is the first time a guest musician appears on a Deaf Center record: British composer and musician Simon Goff joins with violin and viola in the finale, “Further”, a hypnotising piece submerged in layers of strings and drones.

The subject of time is an ambitious one, yet Deaf Center manage to balance the humble with the grand in great warmth as seconds become minutes, hours become days and time seemingly freezes as a still-life moment.

Siavash Amini is a composer from Tehran, Iran. He Has worked with labels like Room40, Hallow Ground, Opal Tapes and Umor Rex for the better half of the past ten years. He has performed at festivals like CTM & MUTEK and many other well known international events. Apart from it Siavash is a co-founder of the “SET experimental art events” and “SETfest” in Tehran, Iran. His work ranges from fragile ambient pieces and brittle IDM (incorporating his distinctive style of atmospheric guitar playing) to noisy drones and bleak modern classical pieces. His compositions have been inspired by films such as Andrei Tarkovsky's The Mirror as well as novels by Dostoyesvky and poems by T.S. Eliot.

Saffronkeira is the Sardinian sound researcher Eugenio Caria being active in the electronic music scene since almost two decades. His most recent work - a cooperation with the Italian jazz trumpet legend Paolo Fresu - earned a lot of praise from the international music press for the pure timelessness of the album.

"Upon hearing a small snippet of sound an image is conjured, not a memory but not unfamiliar. A shell of a memory, thousand events superimposed on each other. While trying to extract points of a narrative to ease the discomfort of this recollection, I try to separate and unfold the image and with it the points of the spectrum which make up the sound, a shell of a narrative. Here is an album based upon an almost entirely imagined/ synthesized happening upon hearing a snippet of sound. It sounded like of a whole story that never happened but yet I felt myself amongst it’s participants, a sound triggering a false memory. Each sound in Eugenio’s collection of sounds and ideas guided me a to a point in the narrative and it’s construction. He had handed me a portals of some kind to a few scenes of the whole narrative. This is the soundtrack for that false memory from all the perspectives I can think of."

Explicit isolation is the third album by the international collective E/I, led by composer and percussionist Szymon Pimpon Gąsiorek. The group’s seven core members came together while studying at Copenhagen’s Rhythmic Music Conservatory and the Royal Danish Academy of Music. For this latest release, they are joined by Slovenian musicians Samo Kutin (hurdy-gurdy) and Kaja Draksler (organ), alongside Danish tuba player Rasmus Svale.

The three compositions distill sound down to its essential elements, drifting freely through space. The material is minimal, moving in the geological rhythm of endless cycles of tension and release, formation and dissolution, density and lightness. Pimpon acts here more as a guide than a creator with a master plan. He is a navigator, leading us to the most crucial moments where sonic emissions merge into vibrating drones, building to an inevitable leap—an explosion after which the particles rearrange themselves once again. It feels like futuristic temple music infused with intergalactic spiritual jazz, the extensions of drone music, and acoustic ambient textures, all highlighted by the jolly grin of the navigator.

“I wrote the scores and asked each of the musicians to record their parts individually. What’s interesting for me about doing it this way is that it removes the element of immediate interaction and introduces a factor of randomness. I then edited and mixed it myself, also adding my own parts. Previously, it was strictly acoustic music, and the recordings were ‘live,’ meaning they were captured in one room at the same time, with no subsequent edits.” Pimpon has also incorporated electronics, which make the album even more airy and organically complement the sounds of the hurdy-gurdy and organ, recorded in Trboje, the small Slovenian village.

Active for 40 years, Nurse with wound is one of the projects of Steven Stapleton, materialized in a very wide range of hysterical noise over sound collages and cut ups, abstract music, soothing drones and surreal sound paintings, and more rhythmical and mechanical pieces, always inspired by Dadaism and Futurism, Krautrock, jazz improvisation, surrealism, never losing his main goal, that is having fun and enjoying himself.He has had many collaborators, a recurrent one in the 80s and 90’s being Current 93’s David Tibet, another noticeable one still at work with him is Andrew Liles.The main line of this unpredictable sound builder is hectic and uncompromised, his point of view is that everything is possible and applies it to himself. As a youngster he wanted to be an artist so decided he was one . He is not a musician, and says he has no interest in becoming one. Surprisingly, (or not!), the love of his life is building sculptures out of recycled and reclaimed materials, building things with anything, even junk. And sounds, we are a witness to it.With these very strange juxtapositions of styles and manners, female rap music and 50s and 60s lounge music having a special top priority in Steven’s tastes, and a creativity that has no bounds no taboos, with a taste of novelty every time, Nurse with wound will no doubt continue to surprise people listening to his works, and himself, as he wants to keep it fresh every time, mostly for him.

A chopped-and-screwed love letter to the sounds of rebajada – half-speed cumbia, pioneered by Sonido Dueñez in the 1990s, and born from an overheated turntable motor that didn’t make the crowd stop dancing. With Debit’s treatment, rebajada becomes an ethereal, at times intense ambient tapestry that’s also a history lesson.

Spend any amount of time pacing the streets of Monterrey, the bustling city in the north of Mexico where Delia Beatriz, aka Debit, grew up, and you’ll be sure to catch traces of cumbia echoing from Bluetooth speakers, DIY soundsystems, or car stereos. An Afro-Latin dance form and »practica cultural« originating in Colombia in the early 19th century, cumbia evolved rapidly in the early 1900s, as a localised sound played on drums and flutes quickly modernised to integrate European instrumentation like the accordion. When it reached Mexico in the 1940s, the sound shifted again, fusing with mariachi styles and integrating further vallenato folk elements. Eventually, cumbia spread across the entirety of Latin America, splintering into a spectrum of different musical styles such as chicha in Peru, and cumbia villera in Argentina. And over in Monterrey, cumbia inadvertently found its own idiosyncratic groove.

From the 1950s to the 1970s, waves of immigrants from across Mexico and Latin America headed to Monterrey to find work, making a home in Colonia Independencia. Colombian cumbia records, shipped in from Mexico City, Houston, and Miami, became the soundtrack of the neighbourhood, relaying familiar stories to a rural working class adjusting to their new industrial reality. The sound struck a chord with locals, and huge street parties hosted by ramshackle soundsystems known as sonideros unified the diverse community. So when cumbia rebajada materialised serendipitously in the 1990s, it emphasised and highlighted the memory distortions at the heart of the immigrant experience. Local record collector, selector, and sonidero Gabriel Dueñez had been playing cumbia for hours one night when disaster struck: his turntable’s motor overheated and slowed down, turning the music into a warped groan, with half-speed voices echoing over wobbly accordion drones and splashy drums. But the crowd kept dancing, and Sonido Dueñez realised he’d struck gold – cumbia rebajada was born.

Over the next few years, he dubbed a popular series of mixtapes, hawking them at the flea market on the dried-up Santa Catarina riverbed beneath El Puente del Papa, the bridge that links downtown Monterrey with Independencia. These woozy archives became the stuff of legend, poetically but subconsciously shadowing DJ Screw’s series of epochal cassettes that appeared over the border in Houston. Beatriz uses Sonido Dueñez’s first two tapes as the starting point for »Desaceleradas«, entering into a dialogue with time, culture, and geography as she recalls the sonic ecosystem that surrounded her decades ago, long before she emigrated to the USA. If 2022’s acclaimed »The Long Count« was an attempt to recover concealed pre-Columbian history in the face of colonisation, »Desaceleradas« jumps forward, figuring out how memory and shared celebration can resist a more contemporary form of cultural erasure. As AI systems scrape, blend, and decontextualise culture around us, leaving vapid slop, »Desaceleradas« proposes a slower, more careful, and ultimately more human kind of engagement. It’s an archive with a pulse.

Full of joy, they ran to meet him.
Then threw one of the shirts over each of them,
and when the shirts touched their bodies they were transformed into swans,
and flew away over the woods.
The record is comprised of a series of improvised recordings made over the course of an evening in Autumn ’23, captured at the Jabu home studio, south Bristol while Teresa was staying in town for a show. Everything was recorded into the desk in a single take and left as it was, no editing or overdubs, instruments were swapped around and effects units left buzzing ground hum scattered over the floor.
Teresa and Guest (Jasmine of Jabu) provided the vocals, taking words from anything at hand - poetry books, an old copy of the Whole Earth Catalog - their voices winding together, echoing out each other’s melodies. This approach is mirrored by the instrumentals, anchored by something at times - a bassline, one of Birthmark’s synth drones or a fizzing chord but always on the edge of collapsing in on itself or floating away. The tracks become more soporific as the record goes on (and as the night got later), ending on a refrain of ‘say you think its true’ as the instrumental finally dissolves the pedals get dialled up to 11 and Birthmark’s drones turn into distant lasers in a last swan song of feedback.
Recorded Sep 2023 in Bristol, BS3, by:
Teresa Winter (vocals, fx)
Guest (vocals, guitar, fx)
Birthmark (synth, fx)
A.Childs (samples, bass, guitar)

A meditative, folk-inflected score rooted in improvisation, ‘Dragon’s return’ echoes the soul of A film long buried behind the Iron Curtain



With Dragon’s Return, Australian composer and multi-instrumentalist Oren Ambarchi and Norwegian guitarist Fredrik Rasten present a new, meditative score to Eduard Grecner’s eponymous 1967 Slovak cult film — a stark, black-and-white parable.



The album captures a unique live performance recorded at the Videodroom Festival during Film Fest Ghent in October 2024, where this new score premiered alongside the film in collaboration with the Slovak Film Institute. What began as a fleeting, improvisational encounter between music and image has since taken on a life of its own — an evocative sound world that retains its power even in the absence of visuals.



The album will be available on vinyl and all digital platforms from September 12 via VIERNULVIER Records. The vinyl edition includes an obi strip, a booklet with film stills, and extensive liner notes on the film.



The label is known for shedding new light on forgotten films through reimagined soundtracks — claire rousay’s acclaimed The Bloody Lady being the most recent example.


“Folklore meets avant-garde in an ancient drama - a ballad about love, hate and finding a way out of loneliness” - Rastislav Steranka (Slovak Film Institute)



Ambarchi and Rasten do not accompany the images so much as speak through them. Their interplay — on guitars, flutes, percussion, and voice — unfolds slowly, without a fixed destination, culminating in subtle, entrancing drones. With few breaks or ruptures, this trippy, folk-inflected continuous composition invites surrender.



Rasten’s 12-string guitar and delicate use of voice create layered textures that shimmer and shift. Ambarchi, known for his electro-acoustic work, here explores a radically softer mode — strumming, bowing and coaxing tones from his instrument as though it were a string section unto itself. He blows into shells, adding breath and texture to the sonic palette, touching on something elemental.


Together, they evoke a sound world that feels both ritualistic and strangely familiar — as if echoing from a forgotten ceremony or dreamed into being after hearing an old folk tale. Rooted in improvisation, the music speaks in tones both intimate and expansive, shaped live in dialogue with the film and with each other, with only minimal overdubs added afterward.

Dieses spezielle Vinyl-Boxset enthält den kompletten Original-Soundtrack des Spiels sowie die DLC-Musik für Stir of Dawn und Wounds of Eventide. Der 4LP-Schuber in limitierter Auflage ist mit einem maßgeschneiderten Coverartwork von Diego Minguez sowie bedruckten Innenhüllen mit Artwork von Jesús Campos „Nerkin“ verziert.

Blasphemous präsentiert eine alptraumhafte Variante des mystischen Katholizismus und der gotischen Architektur der Heimatstadt von The Game Kitchen, Sevilla. Das angesehene Metroidvania-Spiel ist voll von verdrehter religiöser Ikonografie und esoterischer Symbolik. Die eindringliche Musik des Komponisten Carlos Viola ist untrennbar mit der einzigartigen Atmosphäre des Spiels verbunden. Er übersetzt Themen wie Leid, Schuld und Einsamkeit in eine tief emotionale Musik, die von der Tragödie zur Transzendenz drängt.

Der Soundtrack beschwört ein spezifisches Gefühl von Ort und Zeit herauf und schöpft aus den Traditionen der spanischen Folkgitarre, mittelalterlichen Chorälen und orchestralen Verzierungen, um eine Art okkulte Kammermusik zu schaffen. Geschmeidige Streicher und schwebender Gesang kreuzen Wellen kolossaler Drones, bevor sie wieder im Morast versinken. Hypnagogische Passagen pulsieren mit übernatürlicher Kraft, während klagende, beunruhigende Klavierstücke für Momente des Alleinseins inmitten des Gemetzels sorgen. Violas prächtige Kompositionen werden durch Beiträge der Instrumentalisten Sergio Carmona (Bass) und Manuel Soto "Noly" (Gitarre) sowie durch die mitreißenden Gesangseinlagen von Nadia Torres und Dolores Berg unterstützt.

Wie das Spiel selbst ist auch die Musik von Blasphemous beunruhigend und von Leid durchdrungen, aber dennoch seltsam schön und fesselnd. Schnappen Sie sich Ihr Schwert und Ihren Rosenkranz, bevor Sie eintauchen - Sie werden beides gebrauchen können.

Leviathan Whispers is an album of longings, laments, deliriums and drones, savage and sublime. Within are breaths, hums and bone songs for shadows and fl ames to dance to. Tim Hill is an inspirational fi gure within the UK arts, jazz, noise and improv world. A shapeshifting maverick exploring Britain's diverse musical traditions, from rough music to industrial folk, free jazz to dub, post-punk to avant-rock, incorporating ambient electronics, hymns and noise. Having worked with pioneering arts company Welfare State International, Tim’s performed inside Stonehenge, on the back of trucks at Notting Hill Carnival, leading giants through the streets of London, Dublin and Galway, at Olympic Torch events, celebratory feasts and leading humanist funerals. Tim is also festival director for The Sound of the Streets, a charity promoting outdoor music and musical director of the Wye Valley River Festival where he helps street bands across the country including The Big Noise in Taunton and Horns of Plenty in Oxford.

Leviathan Whispers is a spectral, contemplative selection of Tim's recorded work, including material created for art installations, outdoor projects, solo performances and personal meditations. Inspired by landscape and the eternal pull of Blake's Albion, baritone, alto and soprano saxophones are mixed with tape loops, old synths, recycled live recordings, woodwinds and reeds. Other sounds are processed by Colin Potter (Nurse With Wound) and drone artist Jonathan Coleclough. The album artwork and accompanying videos feature sound sculptures by Michael Fairfax (Royal Society of Sculptors) alongside unsettling visuals by fi lm-maker and junk-alchemist David Young. "an amazing player - there's a weight to his music with a wonderfully dark edge" Corey Mwamba / BBC Radio 3 Fans of Colin Stetson, John Surman, Anna Von Hausswolff , William Basinski and La Monte Young will fi nd much to savour on this new 12" LP. LAUNCH PARTY: we're holding a special launch event with a live performance and talk by Tim Hill on Saturday, 15th November inside a beautiful Victorian chapel beneath Royal Berks Hospital, Reading.