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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.

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.

'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.

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.

MTY-3.14 “π”, released on March 14, 2026, is the fifth and final chapter of a journey begun fifteen years ago.



This standard edition presents the final form of Polar Inertia across three 12" vinyl records, featuring 11 tracks. Nothing added, nothing removed—only the music, unfolding in full.



Images dissolve, words fall away. What remains are faint echoes, like footprints slowly erased in fresh snow.



This final opus does not close the path. It fades into it. π is not an ending, but a state: the moment where movement continues, even as the world turns silent.



A last step.
A final trace.
Still moving, beneath the cold.



POLAR INERTIA



We are no one because we want to be no one,
And to be no one we have to be everywhere and nowhere- Polar Inertia examines the enigmatic and blurry realms, embracing the art of obscured vision.


Encountering the collective Polar Inertia is much like being absorbed by fog and captivated by its ever-shifting forms and densities, with things being as indistinguishable as in a whiteout.



Formed in 2010 by a group of artists, Polar Inertia transcends visibility, delving into structures that lie beyond the public gaze. Layers upon layers intertwine within the fabric of Polar Inertia, extending beyond their profound electronic compositions and live performances. It manifests as a conceptual universe, where sound, monochrome aesthetics, and elusive narratives converge, much like trying to grasp the intangible fog. The entity that is Polar Inertia is involved in installations, print- and video work and texts created for different contexts and live in different spheres such as Palais de Tokyo in Paris or the Lyon Biennale of Contemporary Art. Still, clubs and festivals are perfect spaces to experience these nebulous soundworlds and immerse in them. Fittingly, some of Polar Inertia’s appearances include the colossal halls of Berghain and Bassiani and at experimental festivals like Mutek Montreal and Atonal Berlin, that like to break with the classic club conventions.



Polar Inertia's sonic landscape unfolds with wafting textures accompanied by resonating beats and drones, reverberating through empty spaces, merging with the vast expanse of nothingness. Their sound exists at the crossroads of ambient, experimental, and deep techno, interwoven with vocal narratives. Since their inaugural release “Indirect Light“ on Dement3d Records in 2011, they remain a stronghold of relevance and captivation in the electronic domain.



Mastered by sixbitdeep, with artistic direction by Diplomatie Studio.

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.

Following the arrival of their debut album ‘Alterazione’, LF58 (F.Scorcucchi and G.Tillieci) are back on Astral Industries with a special trove of outer-space explorations. Recorded one evening back in April 2019 as a live performance at Rome’s Brancaleone, the eponymously titled album offers a sprawling journey across the pan-dimensional ether. Spread across six sides of vinyl, the performance includes fully improvised material as well as choice selections from Simone Giudice, Jonas Kopp, Nuel, Birds of Prey, Rapoon, Steve Roach and Adham Shaikh. There is no doubt that the unique energy and circumstances of the evening contribute to a certain atmosphere present in the music.

With seemingly no beginning nor end, the session emerges in suspension; an electric ocean of infinite deepness. Gleaming across the patter of galaxies on a wide black backdrop, its myriad vistas are projected like transitioning scenes of an unending story. The gentle tide brings with it specks of cosmic debris and mysterious signals. Soon, quiet drones are overtaken by ripples of solar flare and percussive clamours. Forms melt like liquid, a ball of amorphous plasma pulsating with ecstatic radiance. Prying open universe within universe, ‘Live at Brancaleone’ has a vastness that cannot really be contained.

“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

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.

As trans-Atlantic alchemists pulling from a shared dialectic that somehow encompassed both postmodern deconstructionist tendencies and a delightfully subversive sense of poptimism, it’s easy to see how David Cunningham and Peter Gordon immediately hit it off upon initially meeting each other back in the late-1970s at the height of their youthful transgressions. Having initially worked together on the second Flying Lizards’ LP fourth wall, with its ingenious fusion of dismantled rhythms and rearranged melodies juxtaposed against the slyly sultry singing of Snatch’s Patti Palladin— with Gordon adding a few sprinkles of mischievous sax in the mix— it’s no wonder the collaboration would lead to further musical adventures.

Which leads us directly to the genesis of The Yellow Box. Embarking on a collaborative exercise in the structural repurposing of music as untethered puzzle pieces in need of rearrangement with no predetermined outcomes, the duo gave birth to a project that would see them move through both time and recording studios across Europe, taking nearly two years from 1981-1983 to complete. Enlisting the great Anton Fier on drums from The Feelies/Lounge Lizards nexus and John Greaves on bass from Henry Cow/Soft Heap lore to round out their dueling creative counterparts, the album would be something of a lost treasure until its eventual release on Cunningham’s Piano imprint in 1996.

Cinematic in scope, and filled with drifting drones, beautiful counter-melodies, eery minimalism, Kraftwerkian synthesizers, looped voices, skronky interludes, and other shifting undercurrents of sound, it was an album that utilized both a diverse array of expressive languages, as well as early sampling techniques and prepared instruments, well before most people were thinking in such expansive, integrated terms at the dawn of the 80’s. But such is life at the vanguard of new music. And one of the reasons that it likely sat on the shelf for so long before finally being released well over a decade later. Like a sparser, less groove-oriented version of My Life in the Bush of Ghosts, or a more radical take on the experimental work of Can’s Holger Czukay, The Yellow Box stands at the crossroads of time and technology, fusing multiple strands of musical thought and compositional techniques into a disjointed whole that somehow still comes off as a conceptually complete record.

Now, here it is again, over 40 years later, with perhaps even more historical resonance than it had before, remade and remodeled just waiting to be rediscovered again.

In syrupy slow pursuit of a strong 2023 debut, Yungwebster's somnolent sequel is bolstered by pitch-perfect production from Space Afrika and Nathan Melja, who vaporise the rapper's auto-tuned post-Future drawl with euphoric orchestral drones, brittle micro-trap beats and weightless pads.

Over a decade ago at this point, Future released 'Codeine Crazy', the decelerated finale of 'Monster', one of his best-loved mixtapes. The track neatly summarised themes the Atlanta rapper had been circling for years at that point, layering his slurred, lean-dizzy rhymes over producer TM88's rubbery, melancholy synths. "Take all my problems and drink out the bottle," he moaned robotically, using the track's minor key bounce to represent the crushing delirium that followed fame and its tasting menu of intoxicants. It's still Future's high water mark creatively, and its traces can be observed in a full spectrum of contemporary sounds, from 6LACK's downtrodden, self-aware R&B to Lil Uzi Vert's feverish trap. But it's Yungwebster who's taken the haze to its logical conclusion, reimagining the Magic City-sculpted bumps as hypnagogic Actavis- 'n Xanax-hued ambient music. You could argue it was bound to happen - the more you sip, the slower it gets - and plays as a cracked mirror to cloud rap's long-smoked hybrid of Southern psychedelia and post-OutKast eccentricity.

Webster's opiated POV is clearer than ever before on 'II'. Just peep the cracks in his voice on the Space Afrika-produced opener 'Skyfall' as he coughs and splutters over watery samples, booming subs and SA's patented collage of soundtrack-ready strings and sirens. Presented at regular speed and in chipmunked form, it sets the pace for an album that, like its predecessor, constantly fucks with the timeline, pitching the whole master into doubletime or slowing it down to a crawl to present a curved, inebriated narrative rather than a straight line. Even without the tempo switches, Webster singles out beats that accent his warbled rhymes that sound as if they'll fall apart at any moment. French DJ and producer Nathan Melja backs 'Disheveled' with Black Ark-styled oscillations and airlock'd echoes, filtering the bassline until it almost disappears entirely; with room to breathe, Webster's able to take the lead - you might not be able to pick out the words, not entirely at least, but you get the message.

In fact it's Webster's voice that's the revelation on 'II' - with a coherent mix from producer tnotsobad, the nuances and fluttering tonalities emerge more vividly than they have before. It makes the flip between the regular speed and fast on 'Txts Red on iMessage' a textural decision, the different pace shifting the warbled cadences so Webster's voice becomes far more important than the additional elements. And on the album's Space Afrika-produced eight-minute centerpiece 'Crochet / I Swear', Webster's mumbled bio-mechanical whines create a much-needed foil for the decelerated boom-clack and suspended save room ambience. We get to encounter a personality here, not just an aesthetic, so as the album moves into its twilit fourth side, the beatless, voice-led somniferousness of 'YA SA' and ululating 'Phone' come off like a descent into tranquillised sedation. Rap has rarely sounded so chimeric.

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Ostinato as resistance: Rafael Anton Irisarri’s landmark work reimagined. Marking the tenth anniversary of the American composer’s critically acclaimed album 'A Fragile Geography', this new edition arrives renewed, both sonically and visually.

First released in 2015 (Room40) during a period of personal upheaval and creative reinvention, it endures as a testament to resilience, transformation, and the connection we hold with the places that shape us.

Written in the aftermath of a devastating theft, A Fragile Geography was born out of loss. Just days before a cross-country move to New York, Irisarri’s entire Seattle-based studio was wiped out. Instruments. Recordings. Archives. Gone without a trace. He arrived on the East Coast to an empty room and the daunting task of starting over.

“This album wasn’t just a record; it was a lifeline,” Irisarri reflects. “It became a way to process the emotional chaos that followed: uprooting, instability, and ultimately, the slow, intuitive rebuilding of a life.”

Composed and recorded in the rural woods of the Hudson Valley, the album took shape in seclusion, surrounded by nature, and through a process guided by improvisation. Embracing limitations, Irisarri wove textural layers of field recordings with half-remembered melodies from his Seattle years, piecing them together like fragments of memory. Tracks like “Displacement,” “Hiatus,” and “Persistence” juxtaposed haunting stillness with restless momentum, mapping an inner terrain of grief, catharsis, and rebirth.

Among its defining sounds is “Empire Systems,” a monumental centerpiece built around a simple four-chord progression, organ textures, and guitar drones. Gradually, the track expands into layers of immersive loops and thick, enveloping distortion that wash over the listener like a rolling wave. Often cited as the album’s most majestic passage, it captures Irisarri at his most sonically ambitious. With a harmonically saturated structure crafted from restraint and repetition, it remains one of his most recognizable compositions: an exercise in the art of maximal minimalism.

From the outset, “Reprisal” received praise from BBC’s Mary Anne Hobbs, who championed the track on her radio show. Her support played a key role in introducing Irisarri’s work to wider audiences and solidifying his place within the lineage of electronic, drone, and experimental sound artists. A slow-burning elegy, the piece emerges from a haze of distortion and sub-bass, with dense, unrelenting drones carrying a sense of mounting tension. Just as it seems to collapse under its own weight, flickers of guitar emerge like distant light through fog. It’s a meditation on dissonance, resolve, and the elusive possibility of release.

The closing track, “Secretly Wishing for Rain,” is steeped in saudade: a longing for Seattle’s dour grey skies, lush green landscapes, and desaturated sunsets. Through it, Irisarri mourns a vanished chapter of life bound to the city, a time documented in scattered mementos and cherished collections, now permanently gone. A reflection on what could never be recovered: an era lost to time. Julia Kent’s looped cello motifs added a melancholic warmth to the track, marking the first collaboration between the two artists and sparking a musical dialogue that would keep growing in the years that followed.

More than a career highlight, A Fragile Geography has laid the foundation for Black Knoll studio, which Irisarri rebuilt from the ground up. The studio has since grown into a creative hub for countless projects, with Irisarri engineering records for iconic music figures like Terry Riley, Ryuichi Sakamoto, William Basinski, MONO, Devendra Banhart, Grouper, Emeralds, Steve Hauschildt, Julianna Barwick, and many others. Carried by its lasting influence, the album has quietly captured the ear of a younger generation, its sound and emotional arc finding new listeners in unexpected corners.

The album’s new visual language was reimagined in collaboration with Mexico City–based designer Daniel Castrejón. Irisarri captured ghostly images at Gaztelugatxeko Doniene, a historic coastal site in Bermeo, Euskal Herria. Castrejón then treated the photographs with distressed textures and spectral overlays. The final artwork channels the rugged, elemental forces that shaped both the music and Irisarri’s aesthetic, renewing his ties to ancestral ground inspired by the Basque homeland of his bloodline.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu with exceptional attention to detail, this anniversary edition uncovers every nuance in the sound design, enhancing clarity and presence. With each listen, new elements emerge, inviting discovery and reconnection.

“I don’t experience this album as a document of grief anymore,” says Irisarri. “I hear adaptation and I'm reminded that when everything falls apart, something meaningful, maybe even beautiful, can emerge.”

Gastr del Sol"s second album returns at last to the vinyl format - its first physical manifestation in well over a decade. Once again, a drop of the needle may ignite any number of queries, summed simply in one: What IS this music? Such is the potent energy of Crookt, Crackt, or Fly, retaining its otherworldly qualities some 32 years and countless musical movements since. Crookt, Crackt, or Fly expands upon The Serpentine Similar"s minimalist stance in unexpected ways, imposing further austerity in the soundscape but for an unpredictable expansive quantity periodically overflowing, waves of blood sluicing through the elevator doors. This is partially due to a change within the group dynamic: the departure of bassist Ken "Bundy" Brown and the arrival of a new partner for guitarist and singer David Grubbs - guitarist and sound fuckerer Jim O"Rourke. O"Rourke"s initial work with Gastr involved editing and recomposing recordings of the Grubbs-Brown-&-sometimes-John-McEntire lineup, producing an utterly outré collage of cut-ups and other types of tape processing. This became the "20 Songs Less" single, after which he was invited to play with the group. It was a time of flux; Brown recalls playing a Gastr show at the Metro around this time featuring himself, John McEntire, Grubbs and O"Rourke - and one of the pieces played was a Tortoise song! Throughout these shifts, Gastr del Sol"s music was never less than fully considered and composed, even in moments redolent with the suggestion of the random and the non-sequitur. Grubbs and O"Rourke made no attempt to replicate Serpentine"s arrangement of thick, scaly drones and hypnotic song-visions in their own partnership, finding Crookt, Crackt,"s sound instead in spiny, gamelan-like interactions between their (mostly acoustic) guitars, played precisely in and out of formation with bright, fleet-fingered abandon. O"Rourke"s fondness for field recordings and his capacity for tape manipulation intersected with Grubbs" sensibilities, edifying his evolving song style: written with increased sharpness and sly surreal humor, sung closer to silence. Halfway into "Work from Smoke", the sudden collapse of the sound-walls around us signals Crookt, Crackt"s major departure. From the thicket of guitars, a swell of drones and free-jazz squeals, made up of bass clarinet, vibraphone and organ, pulls the listener into an entirely other acoustic space. "Every Five Miles" derails in similarly tactile fashion: a guitar duet boils up thunderously, then fragments and spirals apart. As a free electric guitar part crops up, improbably holding the center, the acoustic space around it continues to disintegrate in ambient stereo. A wedding of folk music idioms to classical, improvised and modern compositional modes (including Gastr"s own formative post-punk mode), Crookt, Crackt, or Fly is a song-based reality steadily giving way to its alternative alchemies playing out within.

The first in a proposed series of transmissions, Surface Detail's mystifying debut introduces an incorporeal body that exists only through sound and sensation, prompting listeners to discern a spiritual realm beyond the physical. Its surging electro-acoustic compositions push past the material world to plunge into deeper sonic dimensions, slowly revealing a philosophy borne of near-death and out-of-body experiences that challenges perception itself.

Overhauling vintage experimental techniques with their bespoke modern methodologies and processes, Surface Detail rearrange the musical timeline, merging vastly different concepts to hint at questions rather than provide solid answers. Their uniquely immersive soundscapes use texture, rhythm and tonality to help brush away the superficial and contemplate the unknown, approaching its delicate, controversial subject matter with sensitivity and sensuality. Not just an auditory experience, 'Surface Detail' tests the potential of sound itself, eliciting visceral physical reactions with its uncanny subtleties.

Those principles are divulged immediately on opening track 'Marée Noire', as breathy saxophone notes loops and swirl over cosmic oscillations and microtonally tuned drones. It's music that cracks open a passage that snakes through various genres, suggesting silhouettes rather than affirming banal musical preconceptions. Skeletal rhythms appear in the ether for only a moment, disappearing into the sonic landscape, and Surface Detail's bespoke instrumentation materializes just to bring out the cellular intricacy of the music, concentrating the gaze on microscopic textures and irregularities that discompose the senses. As the album drifts forward, it bends material reality even further: on 'Southern Breach', warm, lower-register organ tones intermingle with sinewy guitar twangs, evaporating into warped, hypnotic oscillations and eerie echoes; and by 'Superbook of the Dead', the conspicuous details have almost disappeared completely, replaced by subterranean clangs, industrial ambience and other-worldly electrical interference.

It's in this way that Surface Detail softly assert their convictions, insinuating a narrative that subliminally ushers listeners down an hypnagogic River Styx by removing all traces of the familiar. On closing track 'Broken Silicates', distant lullabies, dissociated stutters and ghostly woodwind sounds blot fractal patterns on the wide open space, reincarnating the album in a liminal zone that's not constrained by somatic logic. Whisper quiet and utterly beguiling, it transcends material existence, dissolving barriers between surface and depth.

The debut album from CEM, 'FORMA' was developed as a soundtrack to Mauro Ventura’s series of "action painting performances" and uses various bell sounds (cowbells, doorbells, Shinto bells, singing bowls) to pick out anxious giallo sequences and heaving Dadaist formations.

CEM's best known for pneumatic DJ sets that have propped up Berlin's queer underground for a decade at this point, but don't expect to find any vaped darkroom tek on 'FORMA'. Each of the six compositions were commissioned for Ventura’s performative installation at Volksbühne in 2022, and CEM opted to represent the piece's themes of labor and repetition by sampling an arsenal of bells and metal objects that anchor his varying widescreen vignettes. 'The Calling' is a relatively subtle introduction, establishing the space with double bass drones and ratcheting digitally altered chimes - it's 'Bells Corrupt' that cements CEM's concept more righteously, harking back to Goblin's iconic 'Suspiria' score without pastiching any of its Italo-prog themes. Cycling ritualistic bell loops with squashed, industrial-strength thuds and granulised laptop belches, CEM silhouettes the tension and the vivid color of Argento's film, chrome plating the result.

'An Industrial Satire' is even more convincing; this one takes its cues from legendary German sound artist Limpe Fuchs, and the first part integrates scraped, alien resonances with CEM's loping industrial rhythms and squelchy EBM bassline. The real shift occurs in the second part, when CEM's choppy electroacoustic minimalism falls away to unlock his rolling hand drum performance, that he matches with a ghaita sample lifted from the Master Musicians of Joujouka's 1971 album with Brian Jones. With the future-facing deconstructions a memory, 'Statue Garden' beds reedy organ drones in eerie gallery ambiance, and closer 'The New Sincerity Test' finds Lithuanian performance artist Gertrūda Gilytė skewering the wellness industrial complex over nauseous subsonic oscillations and scratchy noise.

Night Keeper is a collaborative album by New York City-based artist Aaron Landsman and former Swans guitarist Norman Westberg that is based on the former's eponymous play. Westberg recorded it together with performer Jehan O. Young for the Swiss Hallow Ground label, with Landsman serving as the record’s producer. The original piece was first performed in the Spring of 2023 at The Chocolate Factory Theater in Queens and filled the stark industrial space with spoken text, choreography, projections, and music in dim light and, occasionally, complete darkness. Westberg and Young afterwards brought it to the studio to record it as a two-part
album in whose course his textural sounds, based on loops and samples, set the stage for her soothing, sonorous vocal performance. »Night Keeper« is a performance inspired by sleeplessness and the wanderings of the human mind at night—about time and memory.
Westberg and Young elegantly capture its essence in these roughly 44 minutes with a somnambulic album, letting sound and meaning flow into each other. The initial spark for Night Keeper was a run of almost sleepless nights in different neighbourhoods of a city that is perpetually insomniac. Instead of trying to force himself to go back to sleep by any means necessary, Landsman started writing down his thoughts. As he explains in the liner notes—accompanying the music along with drawings made by audience members during the performances—he started listening to the particular way in which the voice in his head navigates time and language. Accordingly, the texts that Young reads on the record form a diverse collection of specific moments, imagining different speakers and evoking different
situations. Westberg complements, accentuates, and juxtaposes these with different means. Ominous drones, soaring melodies, rhythmic bass sounds: the guitarist, whose latest release for Hallow Ground was 2021’s First Man In The Moon with Polish double bassist Jacek Mazurkiewicz, conjures up distinct sound worlds in which Young can let Landsman’s scenes unfold to gripping effect.
Landsman makes it clear that »Night Keeper« was intended as an invitation to »stay up, look out the window, let what’s happening outside spark reveries or predictions« or even take it on a stroll through the neighbourhood—at night, of course. Much like the original piece, this album is then one dedicated to wandering around, both mentally and physically.

Every so often an album of such deceptive genius, of such aesthetic clarity, comes across our desk and transfixes us. Thought Leadership's III Of Pentacles is one such work of art. It's an instant classic and glides into the pantheon of timeless guitar-soul totems. Originally out on cassette only, we present the first ever vinyl issue. It's a hideously limited pressing of 300 for the world, so don't sleep on this.

Thought Leadership has already garnered big support from such tastemakers as Ruf Dug, Jason Boardman, Nathan Gregory Wilkins, J Walk, Evan Woodward, Justin Robertson and Heavenly's Jeff Barrett. The first time we heard III Of Pentacles, we nearly wept at the thought that something so beautiful, so bursting with real hope, could even exist in this brutal world. To quote the Quietus, "imagine if Stockport was situated somewhere along the Pacific Coast Highway rather than the M60, and you’ll have some idea of the coordinates to the post-industrial, sunburnt dream space opened up here."

So, who is Thought Leadership? What do we know about them? They reside in Stockport and are obsessed with ethereal guitar records. That’s about it. That and these X ideas shared with you, the listener.

Captured on a multitrack recorder in a terraced house in Stockport, this is as DIY as it gets. Glaringly obvious is a love for classic Factory and early 4AD. Perhaps it is the proximity to the River Mersey where the ideas arrived, and there being but three miles between where this and the Durutti Column’s classic “LC” was recorded, as the two operate across a familiar aural plain. Be it geographic or otherwise, limited by a true economy of means, namely guitar, pedals and drum machine, the fruit borne from these humble tools has been indelibly shaped by the perma-gloom that hangs low over the Manchester and Stockport environs.

Ushered in on 808 kicks, “I” opens the record as a beautiful Sketch for Stockport; a chiming maj7 chord dripping in chorus and delay sets us on our way. The Vini Reilly comparisons are unavoidable. “II” is all John McGeoch, with its trippy goth-psyche arpeggiated pattern cascading across the stereo image. Do those drums swing? But goths don’t swing?! They do here. We’re treated to a bit of crunch on the lead guitar part and some really lush reverb. We even step forth into shoegaze territory, albeit briefly, for the middle eight. “III”, a firm Be With favourite, continues the dreamy psyche leanings of the previous track, with an even bigger melody this time. We’re hearing The Teardrop Explodes on quaaludes here. A proto-dream pop cut soaked in melancholy. But watch out! The coda finds Johnny Marr has gotten into the ‘ludes and gatecrashed the final bars with some incredibly ignorant B minor pentatonic noodling.

“IV” ditches the drum machine for the first in a suite of three beatless electric guitar duets. The first of these semi-improvised rubato ideas is a striking departure from the earlier playful pieces, coming over emo and moody. Greyscale sulking for Stratocaster. Sign us up. “V” contains some really lyrical phrasing; a gorgeous conversation between two guitars. Real Stopfordian Primitive; meditative, crude, rain-soaked. We cycle through the same feels, then end on an alluring chord that breaks the pattern. Sometimes thoughts are like this. “VI” creeps in all plaintive, then a huge reverberating descending guitar line comes tumbling in like something off those classic Dif Juz 12”s. There’s some Maurice Deebank in there too, for sure, and the coda nods to early Meat Puppets.

“VII” rounds out the A Side, and succinctly presents a summary of all ideas explored thus far on our journey. The drum machine is back, this time with some wispy delay, before both guitars enter together playing interlocking lines. As we start, we end, with the delayed 808 guiding us out.

Opening Side B, “VIII” sees us embark on the other side of our journey as we slow down and space out. The drum machine is here, but the guitars are different now. Think Sensations Fix or Göttsching at his most peeled out. Drones, ambient drifts of broken chords and distorted lead lines all swirl round the mix. Side B is one for headphones for sure. “IX” is almost too exquisite for words. A New Age Mixolydian voyage through the cosmos. If you’re unmoved by the end you’ve probably got no pulse. We were left blunted ineffable by this one, such is the smudged elegance radiating from this idea. All hail the Thought Leader.

“X” is a full circle moment, and a fitting end. If you’ve not already elsewhere across the platter, you will be getting heavy Robin Guthrie vibes from this piece. Like the rest of Side B, this improvised jam sticks within a framework of related chords but the celestial energies channelled might invite us to wander “outside”, especially when the Tubescreamer is engaged.

RIYL Durutti Coulmn, Cocteau Twins, Dif Juz, Sensations Fix, Spike and adjacent guitar musicks – but, ultimately, this is just its own thing; such is the strength of ideas presented. "It’s good music to chill out to." (??)

Be With is honoured to present the first ever vinyl release of III Of Pentacles, carefully remastered by Be With's engineer Simon Francisco to ensure it sounds better than ever after its initial tape release. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the records have been pressed to the highest possible standard at Record Industry, in Holland. The original tape cover artwork, so crucial to Thought Leadership's striking visual aesthetic, has been rejigged for vinyl issue here at Be With. Its stark presentation befits the music contained within. They inform us that they shuffled their tarot deck to ask what the album should be called and the card you see on the cover popped out. The III Of Pentacles tarot card represents teamwork, shared vision and the ability to achieve goals through collaboration. We like to think Thought Leadership and Be With have nailed this one.

j.o.y.s. is both the moniker of and the debut self-titled LP by the Los Angeles based artist Ramon Narvaez. j.o.y.s. is an acronym for “jump out of your skin”. While the phrase can conjure moments of shock and surprise, Narvaez, however uses the phrase as a foot lamp illuminating a path towards momentary transcendence through creating beautifully conjured ambient music that recalls work by Daniel Lanois, suss, Dean Hurley and Tim Hecker. While the pedal steel is prominent, j.o.y.s., as a project, is more in conversation with shoegaze and noise than what has recently been deemed ambient country. Heavy brutalist slabs of noise, swirling feedback create the sound bed of these songs. Collaborator Justin Gaynor’s pedal steel on this album operates as important connective tissue as both the road and the traveler between the light and shadow zones. Drones are wrapped in distortion, processed just below the threshold where we’d throw the word “harsh” around. Rather, there is a delicate dance between Gaynor’s top-rope pedal steel lines - always sweet and always just a bit mournful - with Narvaez’s ringing bass notes and noise chatter. j.o.y.s. revels in intransigence. Nothing can last. As Matt Colquhoun puts in the introduction to Mark Fisher’s heartbreaking Ghosts of My Life - our identity and relationship to the past are “portals in perpetual collapse”. Depression, friendship, longing are all briefly satiated while in the peak experience of creating something as a response to them. But even that is impermanent. These sounds - improvised, exploratory, ecstatic - are eventually edited, whittled down and pressed to wax - not tombs but portals to the past.

»Re:Polyism« is a track-by-track reinterpretation of Friedrich »Fritz« Brückner’s 2022 debut solo album as Modus Pitch, »Polyism,« through artists affiliated with Altin Village & Mine and/or former collaborators of the prolific Leipzig-based musician and producer. Each track from »Polyism« has been remixed or reworked by different artists such as Modeselektor, Angel Bat Dawid, Maya Shenfield or Mouse on Mars member and HJirok producer Andi Toma, but the album—mastered by Tim Roth a.k.a. Sin Maldita and released as a strictly limited vinyl LP with reimagined artwork by Carmen Orschinski—follows the original record’s tracklist. This makes »Re:Polyism« a veritable musical prism, refracting the creativity inherent to Brückner’s genre-transcending original works through other people’s artistic lenses to create an even more colourful end result.

First off are the Gebrüder Teichmann with their take on opener »Drive,« carefully adding more depth and uncanny sounds to the jazzy, drum-focused piece. Unsurprisingly, Modeselektor go a lot further with their remix »Rainbow,« turning the two-minute track into a dubstep-adjacent banger with infectious synth work that is twice as long and comes with a mind-melting breakdown. With their take on »Hilltop Jacuzzi,« Peaking Lights turn the blissful original into a piece that calls to mind experiments at the intersection of dub, ambient, and industrial music in the mid-1990s. Cloud Management radically transform the eerie »Compound Eye Dialogue« into a rhythmically charged mid-tempo post-krautrock epic, while the Seekers International’s »Jelly Roll Dub« of »Gelée Royale« uses the original’s lush textures to turn up the intensity even further.

On the flipside, Andi Thoma gives the intricate synth pop/breakcore fusion of »Suspender« a similarly dubwise treatment before venturing into gqom territory, pulling it out of the leftfield and straight onto the dancefloor—peak-time use only. Maya Shenfeld then brings her trademark modular synth work to »Outer Veil,« accentuating the focus on Hendrik Otremba’s uncanny spoken word performance even further. This sets the mood perfectly for vocal experimentalist Agnese Menguzzato working her singular magic. Under her hands and with her voice, the multi-layered ambient soundscapes of »Lava Fans« become even larger-than-life-like than before. When Angel Bat Dawid takes the menacing drones of »Iridescent Path« as a template for a trap-inspired beat over which she lets loose on the clarinet, that serves as both the ultimate counterpoint and perfect coda to »Re:Polyism.«

These nine reinterpretations of the highly diverse source material underline Brückner’s singular approach to music-making while also emphasising their makers’ idiosyncratic talents. This makes »Re:Polyism« more than simply a remix album—it’s a polylogue between visionary minds.

An imperial phase Actress commits a lushly amorphous installation piece made for the Berliner Festspiele to vinyl, rendering a post-industrial symphony full of iridescent shifts in gyring, OOBE-like spatial coordinates landing somewhere between nutopian ambient, kankyō ongaku and sawn-off bass science.

‘Grey Interiors’ was made in collaboration with Actual Objects and is an absorbing animation and navigation of those post-human ideals that have prompted Darren J. Cunningham to his best work across the preceding two decades. In its hypnagogic symphony of the elements, he short-circuits distinctions of classical music’s metric freedoms and the hyperspatial sensuality of concrète/electro-acoustic and ambient musics with an artistic license that has come to distinguish his work in the contemporary field, and arguably identified him as this generation’s most vital electronic abstractionist.

The first half of the album is bewitchingly airless, materialised in a twinkling vacuum. Naturalistic environmental recordings and a half-heard piano swirl around nauseous airlock whooshes and eerie bass drones. It's all pulverised to a powdery, shimmering residue; if Actress's music is defined by its character and texture - that sweet spot between the bedroom and the soundsystem - then this one advances the narrative without losing its backbone. And like a lot of his best work, it comes into its own on the back of zonked eyelids, conjuring a play of shifting geometric patterns within its imaginary physics and nuanced narration of ephemeral melodic phrasing and vaporous textures.

At about the halfway point, that dissociated piano finds its groove, coalescing into a jerky drum machine rhythm popping like bubbles in the stifling atmosphere. We can draw some intersecting lines here thru electronic music lore - traces of vintage AE, Push Button Objects, UR - but Actress always leaves an indelible fingerprint on anything he touches. Even when he's rubbing against the gallery-industrial complex, he manages to fill a stagnant space with electricity and wit; look at the title itself: is it a reference to the "landscape beyond man" as the installation's press release might have us believe, or the institutions themselves?

Capturing phantom drones behind dusty beats and haunted twangs, Ellis Swan and James Schimpl return for their third album as Dead Bandit. Locked into a musical language unique to their collaboration, the duo once again put us out to pasture across broad sonic plains, drums flapping like loose fence panels in the prairie breeze and bass rumbling like distant thunder. True to their previous two records, Swan and Schimpl keep the strung out guitars at the front of what they do, whether playing a naked, desolate strum or running six strings through disruptive effects processing until they're barely recognisable.
But while there are details of disturbance when listening to Dead Bandit's self-titled record up close, the wider impression is a smoother, more direct affair that toys with post-rock complexity and matches it with the emotional weight of melodic simplicity, gentle grooves and conscious arrangements. 'Weeds' offsets its languid fuzz guitar with shimmering sustained notes before settling into a patient, heavy-hearted composition charged with heartbreak leads pealing out in the middle distance.
By comparison, 'Glass' has a smoky, half-hidden backroom quality. Its brushed whisper of a beat, lingering guitar drones and subtle sub bass come on like a dub wise flip of a sad-eyed country ballad. The mood maintains on 'Half Smoked Cigarette', which captures the grey sky sullenness of post-punk and reframes it in the seductive isolation of rural America. While there's a thickness to the sound on these most direct of tracks on the album, there's also fragility inherent to the sound world Dead Bandit have been shaping out over these past few years.
'Buttercup' swaps sadness for sinister undercurrents, once more drawing on fulsome low end to fill out the sparse threads of instrumentation up top. 'Pink' finds a steady momentum for its own brand of brooding mystery, the sharp end of the beat bringing focus to the many-layered approaches to the guitar which roundly define the Dead Bandit sound. There's an even clearer direction mapped out in the vintage drum machine pulse of 'Koyo', all the better to carry swirling effects treatments and moody melodic figures. Even in these ominous climes there's space for plaintive, endearing hooks which land as the most direct phrases in Dead Bandit's musical lexicon to date.
The fundamental sound across this album holds true, but Dead Bandit are never bound to a singular practice. 'Lucien's Bitters' strikes up a pronounced drum machine beat which comes on like 90s downtempo, and it feels like a natural vessel for the heavy, shoegaze tinted lament of the guitars. At every turn, Swan and Schimpl prove their affinity for all kinds of approaches, and yet the end product is a deeply cohesive, immediate listen that shows just how clear their creative vision really is.

Valuable vinyl reissue for this historic four-handed work by Gigi Masin and Giuseppe Caprioli. The concept of multitude combined with the figure/symbol of the labyrinth suggests orders of thought relating to the multiple states of being that inhabit the dark labyrinths of the soul, the hidden regions of the human psyche. All in Multitude In Labyrinth leads us to look for keys to understanding the ultimate meaning of a test as enigmatic as it is powerful. A congeries of paramusical phenomena in continuous evolution, expression of an internal feeling strongly concentrated on itself, disguised in the plastic flow of sound events that evolve on the gravitational maps of low-frequency drones, of the changing waveforms and of the elliptical-circular loops warped with scientific skill in the electronic workshop used for this purpose. A cinematic symphony in nine movements that direct the listening towards the frontiers of unexplored parallel worlds, ready to recreate the infinite maze of aural multitudes that materialize, dissolve and regenerate impulse after impulse for the duration of the work. Music whose remote echo makes us think of the harmony of the spheres that governs the mechanics of the cosmos and of being.

Emergent polymath Brother Aten makes his first outing on Bruk with an icy slice of system-ready
minimalism, guided by the cooly detached voice of Ze R.
Taking cues from cult sci-fi and early 80s no wave, Fragmented Dystopia is a crystal clear
statement trimmed of all unnecessary baggage. The title spells out the mood — Aten's
soundscapes are stark and synthetic machine mantras punched out on outboard instruments
navigating gritty, futuristic zones.
On 'Unavailable' steadily humming drones shape the space in which Ze R. hovers, initially
delivering a deadpan denial before their humanity sneaks in as the track snakes through an
intricate lattice of crisp digital percussion. Short and razor-sharp two-parter 'Fragmented Dystopia'
finds an even sparser corner to occupy within Aten's subtly cyberpunk vision, where Ze R.'s
scattered words cut a measured figure delivered at acute angles before breaking into wilder forms
at the end of Part 2.

Originally from Brooklyn and now based in Berlin, Brother Aten has been weaving a fascinating
tapestry of audio and visual work as MAF. His artwork examines the fraught relationship between
technology and society. Ze R. explores dimensions of sexuality, subjectivity and individualism
through writing, performance and community organisation.

Second VHF solo LP from the Pelt/Black Twigs mainstay, following 2022’s acclaimed “Evening Measures.” “April is Passing” builds on the striking solo Hardanger-style fiddle performances on the previous LP to take the music even further out, with deep drones and extended techniques defining a vocabulary that is Americana-adjacent, but a unique and special sound that Mike is pursuing almost alone. Joined on selected tracks by Cara Gangloff’s Sruti and Kaily Shenker’s sonorous Cello, the all-original, all-live performances are resonant with both overt melody and a cloud of thick string overtones, whether on the more upbeat tunes like “Ironto Dancer” or the epic 11+ minute LP closer “Helen’s Song.” “September Air” is a mournful slow build, the fiddle embroidering a minor-key melody over the drone of the Surti box and a low cello counter point. “A Fallen Palace of Snowville” is a solo performance where the additional sympathetic strings of the hardanger fiddle are strongly heard as a ghostly accompaniment, as Mike’s elegant melody switches back and forth from minor to major. “Helen’s Song” closes side 2 with a complex, ever-changing swirl of melodic and harmonic invention, with Mike’s keening, languorous bowing leading the way through multiple moods and sounds.

Prolific Norwegian trumpeter and ECM veteran Arve Henriksen returns with Estonian guitarist/composer Robert Jürjendal in tow, matching his idiosyncratic shakuhachi-style melodic condensations with Jürjendal's glassy electro-acoustic soundscapes and sonorous percussion.

Henriksen releases a lot but is remarkably reliable; his playing is so versatile that hearing it dematerialise into different ensembles and individual methodologies is always a treat. Jürjendal is a veteran guitarist, but doesn't approach his instrument from a purely classical standpoint, taking a Fripp-inspired path towards texture, processing and looping his sounds until they're barely recognisable. The duo share a similar love for Hassell's Fourth World ambience, and here inject new life into that mood.

Jürjendal's percussion is impressive: he offsets cascades of oddly-tuned electronics on 'Tuonela' with booming, ritualistic tom hits that punctuate Henriksen's melancholy phrases; and on the brilliant 'Ancient Bells', plays a set of gongs and gamelan-style instruments, creating swirling hammered tonal clusters that quiver beneath Henriksen's echoed-out, spirited improvisations. It's not always that corporeal, either; on 'A Remarkable Flow', he loops guitar phrases, creating gentle vibrations that rumble in the background while he mirrors Henriksen's pitchy zig-zags with high-pitched oscillator vamps.

Even on the peaceable 'Miraculous Lake', discreet kalimba loops set a celestial tempo that anchors the duo's gaseous soundscapes. And although they veer towards end-credits loveliness on the Göttsching-influenced 'Reunion Hymn', it’s balanced by the album's darker passages, like 'Rebirth' and 'Another Me'. On the latter, Henriksen's trumpet is transformed into a voice-like warble, while Jürjendal replies with glacial E-bowed drones that resonate creepily alongside his lysergic FM pads.

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'.

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

Producer, designer, publisher, filmmaker, all-round scene phenom - Lasse Marhaug returns with his first album since relocating from Oslo to the Arctic Circle, surveying his 35-year career for a set of grizzled, doom-pocked rhythms and foghorn drones pulled from the aether. Expansive and hard to categorise, it's a precision-tooled set of ice-cold tonal productions that heavily lean into Mika Vainio’s rhythm experiments, with extra levels of growling bass and curious noises to send us deep into the uncanny.

Lasse Marhaug has put his mark on literally hundreds of albums - working with artists like Jenny Hval, Merzbow, Jim O'Rourke, Kevin Drumm, Hilary Woods - so many others - yet he still regards himself as a primarily visual artist who got diverted into an occasionally different path. If his last album 'Context' was a kiss goodbye to decades of life in Oslo, 'Provoke' turns a new page, but one that draws heavily from memories of the distant past, reflecting on the way the topographies of Norway's frozen north helped shape his creative worldview. Weaving electronics into environmental recordings captured in the bleak Arctic winter, the album was mixed during the Polar night season, when, for two straight months, the sun never rose past the horizon. Somehow, even at its bleakest, Marhaug avoids the usual aesthetic signifiers for this kinda thing, finding elements of queered beauty in all the severity, juxtaposing elements that shine a bright light on all the odd spaces in-between.

A consideration of noise music's place in 2024, and whether it can still be a tool for subversion when its aesthetics have been so commodified, ‘Provoke’ also refernces an experimental '70s Japanese art magazine that attempted to define a new language for photography. Operating somewhere between these two guiding poles, Lasse feels his way through a subtly altered mode of expression, a new approach to familiar concepts. Album opener ‘Plates’, for example, gives it the full Ø treatment, like some exceptional ‘Oleva’-outtake, but , eventually, shards of interference start to exhale like horses blowing, creating uncanny sensations that hit through ambiguous feeling rather than sheer noise terror. Ritualistic, corporeal - hard to know what you’re listening to and why it makes you feel that certain way - so much more than just machine cycles optimised for their ultimately hollow brutalist aesthetic.

Marhaug paints vivid pictures from a carefully chosen palette, drawing us into a soundworld that's rich with contradictions and contrasts. Even the relatively deafening 'New Topographics' offsets its wall of distortion with a muffled, perforating kick drum, cutting into the noise like a knife through butter. And all of this preparation makes the album's lengthy centrepiece 'Monochrome Head' even more impactful; hinging on a Pan Sonic-like alloy of bass and drums, the track snowballs through tempered feedback and improv scrapes and whistles that pick up into an orchestral din. Marhaug accents the bluster with rhythmic hums that gather in momentum until they're almost oppressively heavy, as if everything's about to collapse.

A masterclass in quietly subversive world-building, 'Provoke' invites us to peer at an expansive sonic landscape and marvel at its intricacies, but this time around there's a Lovecraftian behemoth lurking somewhere beneath its icy surface.

Clothilde’s new album sounds like a constant departure from almost everything. Up until now, her music pieces seemed uncontrolled, a total commitment to the machines. She was, somehow, in between us - listener, audience - and the idea of a machine producing sounds she doesn’t seem to control. Of course, none of this was entirely true, she was mostly in control, but the fantasy, the orchestration of it was beautiful. It was sci-fi-ish, Metropolis-magnificent.

In “Cross Sections” everything is purposely under control. We feel, without being told, that Clothilde is directing the narrative, inviting us to partake of this raw and austere electronic sound, forcing us to learn to enjoy it. This is new. Whereas before she would expect you to stay put and listen, eventually you would understand and give in. Or your body would. Now she is telling you to be there, she doesn’t want to be alone, she wants us to feel this subterranean urgency at all costs.

The real eureka moment comes with “Medullary Rays”, when we start cohabiting with the sounds, when they feel familiar. The darkness becomes real; it is palpable how she is stretching each sound and making them come to life at every moment. It is violent, brutal. Like every track, it's a relief when it ends, it's like coming out of a car crash alive. Much of the A side of is Clothilde pushing the boundaries of her sound. She is not testing but finding new ground and sharing it with us. She is exorcising, demolishing and building over and over again, she is crying and screaming, dozing off with the demential levels of bass, making us constantly listen to alarm bells. She is scaring the shit out of us.

The B side keeps the levels of anxiety high up, especially on the 13-minute “Ring”. Surrealistic drones come and go, every second sounds like the end of something, the accumulation of tension is torrential and it never, never stops. We hope there is a conclusion to this. But there is not. “Cross Sections” builds and feeds on this darkness but, in a way, it is self-contained. Never explodes, never releases itself from itself. It is a continuous process of catharsis that it is never over. It never aims to be. Like, you know, life itself.

We've all been there. It feels familiar. Now it has a sound, or sounds. It can be heard and it is outer dimensional. “Cross Sections” is a tremendous effort from an artist trying to survive something. You never know what is. You don’t need to know what it is. It is just there. Cliché but it has to be said: highest possible volume on this one.

Philip Clemo’s seventh studio album, Through the Wave of Blue, is a journey through a father’s response to profound adversity. His narratives traverse through fear, darkness and disorientation as his youngest daughter becomes seriously ill, culminating in the eventual light of joy as she recovers.

From the haunting depths of “Stalker” and intensity of “Maze” to the serene “Rest” and celebratory “Dawn, Through the Wave of Blue offers an immersive experience that engages both viscerally and emotionally.

Each composition has its own sonic identity, inviting listeners to delve deep into the intricate dialogues and textures that unfold. Clemo blends complex drones & atmospherics with brass, woodwind, strings, guitar, piano, electronics and hypnotic rhythms to create mesmerising soundscapes that captivate the senses.

Nigerian electronic musician and violist Ibukun Sunday debuts on Phantom Limb with Harmony / Balance, a brooding, introspective take on Afro-ambient music that follows two acclaimed digital-only albums for Phantom Limb imprint Spirituals.


Based in Lagos, Ibukun Sunday has expertly positioned himself between the rarely-married cultures of ambient and West African musics. He entwines his compositions with field recordings from his native Nigeria and deeply considered philosophies of existence, humanity, and society. The themes of Harmony / Balance derive from Swami and Hare Krishna founder A. C. Bhaktivedanta and his work Bhagavad-Gita Eng: “As It Is”, a script on the duality of human nature. In Bhaktivedanta’s text, two cousins - warriors from the sacred Hindu text the Mahābhārata - and their armies are pitted against each other. The humility, self control, and devotion of one cousin against the arrogance, envy, and pursuit of power of the other. Bhaktivedanta writes that from this battle we see the necessity to cultivate and nurture our love and faith, but to simultaneously understand our selfishness and hubris. Appropriately, in Ibukun Sunday’s music, a heavy, apocalyptic dread contrasts fascinatingly with passages of light. The static-spiked, corrosive sound design of Harmony / Balance conjures darkness, but its skipping rhythmic patterns and melodic contours are made of beautifully vibrant colours.



Though Sunday excels in the kind of drawn-out elegance also found in the work of Kali Malone, William Basinski or Fennesz, and also in a magisterial repetition akin to Terry Riley or Manuel Göttsching, his unique practice, classical training, and core culture shine through in a pure and singular way. Scattered throughout Harmony / Balance are unexpected melodic antiphonies closely aligned with African music, interspersed between huge, spacious drones and field recordings.



Lead track “Arrayed On The Battlefield” evokes mythical and deific wars with hissing, buzzing synthesis that could be dystopian if not for a levitational, sunlit harmonic structure. It rolls and shimmers, transcendent frequencies alive with rhythm. Later, “Enemy Of My Enemy” employs shimmering, meditative chord pads and blissful negative space, while towards the end of the record, “To Fight With” could have been taken from a Denis Villeneuve sci-fi - the fizzing, fiery distortion at its peak gradually, carefully yields a rumbling, distant thunder as it closes. Throughout the record, Sunday’s education as a classical viola player is also evident. A honed musicality and developed ear for harmonic resonances lend the work a measured eloquence, even amidst deep, spiritual intuitiveness. This intensely personal and powerfully expressive creativity is key to the grace with which he crosses divides.


Ibukun Sunday is a solo electronic musician and violist based in Lagos, Nigeria. He has released two albums with Phantom Limb’s digital-only imprint Spirituals, which enjoyed rightful acclaim as unique and powerful works of experimental ambient music. He also performed at Phantom Limb’s 5th anniversary celebrations in 2023, playing alongside Richard Skelton at St. John’s on Bethnal Green in London, UK.

The learning process is just as much an act of healing as betterment. The enabling of solutions through sheer willpower and openness to discovery, or a noble mission, never completed. In that spirit, the latest album by Berlin-based Slovak duo Päfgens – comprising Jana Drábeková Kočišová and Filip Drábek – represents a pensive development for the project.

Drifting from their lo-fi shoegaze beginnings, Päfgens drone-infused soundscapes have become increasingly immersive and expressive “framed improvisations,” where spontaneous passages are captured, then revisited with fresh layers upon layers over the course of months, breathing and evolving naturally, mirroring the unpredictability of nature. Songforms have all but melted away, with ethereal guitars and bass nestling up against field-recorded sounds, synth beds, percussion, and singing bowl tones.

The framed improvisation on ‘Aspect of What’ explores love and loss, relishing both the joy and melancholy of paying tribute to Filip’s late ethnologist grandmother, Božena Filová (1926-2020). Her voice opens track 2, ‘Particles’, speaking of the humble desire to “help the people in the rural environment”, and the goal of “uplifting people to better living through education”. The album’s emotionally charged approach to improvisation is suitably uplifting and seemingly made without ego, the couple melting away into the flitting wall of rustling drones and heavenly fuzz. Even at their most serrated (the groaning guitar amp squall underpinning ‘Journey’) or when surrounded by chiming bells, clocks and bowls (‘Around the Clock’), Päfgens is ready to listen, rest, learn, and improve, extracting and nurturing hidden abstract emotion in every piece, plundering something universal and teachable from very personal depths.

Waxwork Records is thrilled to release THE EXORCIST III Original Motion Picture Score by Barry DeVorzon. THE EXORCIST III is a 1990 American supernatural horror film written and directed by William Peter Blatty based on his 1983 novel Legion. The film is set fifteen years after the events of The Exorcist (1973) and follows a character from the original film, Lieutenant William F. Kinderman who investigates a series of demonic murders in Georgetown that have the hallmarks fo the Gemini, a deceased serial killer.

THE EXORCIST III features a dark ambient score by Barry DeVorzon (The Warriors, Night of the Creeps). It was the last film score he ever created and features synth drones, sampled chanting, synthesized voices and real voices, and experimental sound design. Of the score, DeVorzon provided exclusively to Waxwork for this album's liner notes: "I was exploring a lot of synthesized sounds and textures and trying to do something that would make the scenes more chilling. Anything that was different, eerie, and had nothing to do with an orchestra. This was new territory for me - it wasn't orchestral, it wasn't rhythm oriented. It was just a really different animal."

Waxwork Records is proud to present THE EXORCIST Original Motion Picture Score for the first time in any format. Sourced from the original masters and then mixed, mastered, and constructed into a cohesive double LP soundtrack experience. The album features 150 gram purple smoke colored vinyl, exclusive liner notes by composer Barry DeVorzon, heavyweight gatefold packaging with matte satin coating, a 12"x12" four page booklet, and new artwork by Suspiria Vilchez."

'Quintela', the debut album by Carme López, a performer, teacher and researcher of traditional oral music from Galicia, is a new experimental work for Galician bagpipe. Influenced by the approach of composers like Éliane Radigue or Pauline Oliveros, the Spanish composer creates slowly modulating sound environments, and stretches the sonic the possibilities of the bagpipe to its absolute limit. 'Quintela' is structured in four movements, plus a prologue and an epilogue, which serve as a link to the contemporary language of the instrument.

The bagpipe is strongly tied to traditional musics; its use in different genres and musical contexts is extremely limited and unimaginative. 'Quintela' brings it to a wholly unknown field, decontextualising the bagpipe in order to elevate a personal approach, and leaving behind its male-dominated past (in which it relates to ideas of prestige, dominance or carries even sexual connotations). López expertly demonstrates its grandeur and breadth; the music on 'Quintela' ranges from barely audible sounds of air passing through the hide bag through rhythmical use of its reeds to all-encompassing drones with complex harmonic structures and vibrant overtones.

The narrative arc focuses on the composer's past, its people and places, and could be conceived as a journey in and of itself. A homage to those in our memories, but also a step into the unknown, 'Quintela' is an ambitious, graceful and captivating debut.

"Espontaneamente se Tenta: Aventuras Sonoras de Djalma Corrêa is an album of deeply exploratory pieces by legendary percussionist and composer Djalma Corrêa. This double-LP set features previously unreleased recordings that cover a wide range of sonic experiments, revealing an unknown side of the prolific and groundbreaking Brazilian artist. Most of the tracks on this album were digitized for the first time – directly from the original tapes – and were compiled in collaboration with Corrêa just before he passed.

The result is a wild and unsettling collage that shows us just how original and intense Corrêa could be: from the unorthodox electroacoustic piece Evolução (Para Fita e Filme), which channels ancestral African inspirations to create a sonic cosmogonical narrative, to the proto-mixtape Exemplo de Sintetizadores, in which he transitions from transcendental drones to astral cha-cha-chas.

While the compilation might seem disjointed at first listen, it is in fact the most accurate translation or representation of his central concept: spontaneous music. Djalma's relationship with sound was always guided by his fearless approach to listening, and by his audacious and dynamic interaction with both musicians and equipment, which enabled him to work across a wide array of genres: from jazz to completely abstract music, always through a personal DIY ethic.

Corrêa developed a strong bond with experimentalist and inventor Walter Smetak, with whom he shared a studio during his formative years at Universidade Federal da Bahia. Suite Contagotas, featured in this collection, is no less than a sonic materialization of that bond: an experiment revolving around dripping water and its randomness – a tentative exploration of the ideas and possibilities envisioned by Smetak for his audacious, albeit unrealized, Estúdio OVO.

Djalma, however, is best known for his studio work in historical albums, including many by Caetano Veloso, Gilberto Gil and Jorge Ben, and for his own polyrhythmic opus Baiafro. The last track is an early recording called Bossa 2000 dC, first performed by Djalma at the 1964 Nós, Por Exemplo concert, an event which is often cited as marking the beginning of the Tropicalia movement. At the time, he was the only artist in the lineup using electronic devices to create sounds, e.g. medical oscillators and contact mics to augment his percussive palette.

The artwork is an amalgamation of material found in the Djalma Corrêa Archive (currently managed by his son Caetano Corrêa) and other material created during the period in which the record was being put together. The intention is to guide the listeners through this possibly tempestuous soundscape, giving them additional resources so that they may draw their own meanings and make their own sense of this extremely immersive and original experience – which is like nothing we've ever heard before."

Bank NYC is very excited to present the definitive statement of Collector, "No Prospects". Collector is the solo guise of Jason Campbell, resident of Newcastle, Australia. Since 2014, Campbell has been channelling the industrial malaise of his hometown through his unique take on heavy electronics. After a series of releases on global-spanning labels such Steel City Dance Discs (UK), Nice Music (AUS), Clan Destine (SCO) & Night People (US), the debut long-player for Bank NYC finds Collector embracing true album form for the first time in his discography. Across eight pieces, Collector delivers a bleak sonic narrative via a hardware-only approach to production: Analog drum machine patterns are intricately intertwined with menacing synth lines, and driving bass is met with the unrelenting clatter of tightly-sequenced field recordings taken straight from the heart of local industry.

Thematically, "No Prospects" navigates the downfall of Newcastle's BHP Steelworks at the end of the 20th century. Acknowledged widely as the largest de-industrialisation event in Australian history, the closure of the Steelworks in 1999 marked a dramatic cultural shift where blue-collar vocations were vanquished due to an economic slump, and were consumed by the trending cosmopolitanism seen in adjacent cities. "No Prospects" draws on Campbell's family lineage in the Newcastle's steelworks, providing a rich, personal context to an industry that both gives and takes away. The sharp intensity of the album is sustained by dramatic shifts in pace: the devestating slow burners of 'Two From Five' and 'Ricochet' are instinctually offset by the frenetic 'CFT' and 'Workers Club Collapse', which showcase Campbell's no-nonsense approach to shaping an almost club-ready breed of modern industrial techno. Although diverse across both sides, cohesion is found in Campbell's toolkit of samples that are unmistakably Collector. The album's eponymous track, 'No Prospects', serves as an introspective centrepoint - a largely arrhythmic excursion shrouded in familiar brooding, textural drones, and underpinned by the chug of machinery on the brink of collapse.

Although forever indebted to the spirit of local electronic outcasts, Bloody Fist Records, Collector's "No Prospects" is a remarkably distinct statement straight from the heart of Australia's Steel City. The complexity of arrangements speak to Campbell's long association in experimental music communities, whilst the persistent feeling of dread conveys a uniquely regional story of decay and futility. Pure Novocastrian industrial electronics.

Svart Records are proud to release the long-awaited full length album "SÁLA" by Kati Rán in May 2024

If the most profound treasures are often the most deeply buried, the journey to uncover them is vital process of discovery. Five years after the 15-minute single “Blodbylgje” signaled the birth of a new, more primordial, and immersive vision after the dissolution of her band L.E.A.F., Nordic dark folk artist Kati Rán has expanded on its oceanic theme for her long-awaited full-length album, “SÁLA”. Embarking on a far-reaching musical and personal travelogue, it’s a reawakening of both the feminine narratives submerged and fragmented within Norse mythology, and the enduring, healing powers held within.

Named after the Old Norse word for ‘soul’ and ‘sea’, “SÁLA” is an act of ‘soul retrieval’, the shamanic art of trauma recovery, be it illness, death, heartbreak or loss, and the reintegration of a splintered self. Across its 13, wide-ranging, elegantly unfolding tracks, the album is an embodiment of different feminine voices and perspectives – from the Norse nine daughters of the sea, or ‘billow maidens’, through various historical and fictional figures to the late-night voices we hear in our most liminal states – all with tales to tell, riddles to solve, challenges to be accepted and guidance to offer. It’s a multiplicity that, like the ocean itself, belongs to a vast, restless dynamic: a matrix of mysteries, unfathomable depths and ever-shifting currents, accumulating into an elemental, regenerative source of power.

Recorded in a barn in Húsafell, Iceland – home to glacier ice caves and a rare lava stone marimba rediscovered for the track “Stone Pillars” – as well as Finland, Norway and at home in Kati’s native Netherlands, “SÁLA” is as much chronicle of Kati’s own perspective-shifting recording process as it as a pilgrimage through different viewpoints and internal states. That itinerate urge is also reflected in the use of different languages, ranging across Norwegian, Old Norse, Icelandic, and, for the first time, English, her combination of ancient texts, historical reimagining’s and unguarded personal reflection backed up by deep research into the most resonant recesses of Nordic lore.

Spun throughout every thread of “SÁLA” is a sense of communion - with the power of stories to offer moral guidance and the thrill of the unknown; with the element of water, recreated across the album both in field recordings and the agelessly organic nature of the music itself; with the archetypes whose qualities we are called upon to embody at our most critical moments; and with the internal hidden realms forever whispering at us from the far edges of our consciousness.

Appropriately, it’s a collaborative venture too. As well as working closely together with Finnish producer Jaani Peuhu, there are contributions from across the musical spectrum, including extreme metal vocalist extraordinaire Gaahl, the Icelandic female choir Umbra Ensemble, renowned Norwegian jazz musician Karl Seglem, Björk and Brian Eno contrabassist Borgar Magnason, members of pagan folk acts Völuspá, Gealdýr, Heilung and Theodor Bastard and even Napalm Death’s Mitch Harris on vocals.

For all the many sources “SÁLA” draws from, the result is a singular, intimately transformative rite of passage, and a retuning of the heart to the reverent continuity of the sacred. It will take you from the opening title track’s chest-pounding rhythmic pulse emerging from a traditional Norwegian bukkehorn (recorded by Karl Seglem), a galloping horse-rider and Kati’s glacial, velveteen chant, through “Kólga’s” recounting of female persecution through the ages borne on the most gossamer-light yet unbreakable of timbres and “Stone Pillar’s” gently percolating, deep wells of abandonment and incantations to recovery. “SÁLA” closes with the track “Sátta” - Old Norse for ‘peace’ and ‘reconciliation’ – ending the album as it began with the bukkehorn, as it weaves rich drones and experience-stamped poems and prayers, Kati’s vocals the most sensitively tuned of emotional barometers. An album made in dedication, and in thrall to, its own sense of destiny, “SÁLA” is, as all quests must ultimately be, a homecoming.

Album introduction written by Jonathan Selzer.

Svart Records are proud to release the long-awaited full length album "SÁLA" by Kati Rán in May 2024

If the most profound treasures are often the most deeply buried, the journey to uncover them is vital process of discovery. Five years after the 15-minute single “Blodbylgje” signaled the birth of a new, more primordial, and immersive vision after the dissolution of her band L.E.A.F., Nordic dark folk artist Kati Rán has expanded on its oceanic theme for her long-awaited full-length album, “SÁLA”. Embarking on a far-reaching musical and personal travelogue, it’s a reawakening of both the feminine narratives submerged and fragmented within Norse mythology, and the enduring, healing powers held within.

Named after the Old Norse word for ‘soul’ and ‘sea’, “SÁLA” is an act of ‘soul retrieval’, the shamanic art of trauma recovery, be it illness, death, heartbreak or loss, and the reintegration of a splintered self. Across its 13, wide-ranging, elegantly unfolding tracks, the album is an embodiment of different feminine voices and perspectives – from the Norse nine daughters of the sea, or ‘billow maidens’, through various historical and fictional figures to the late-night voices we hear in our most liminal states – all with tales to tell, riddles to solve, challenges to be accepted and guidance to offer. It’s a multiplicity that, like the ocean itself, belongs to a vast, restless dynamic: a matrix of mysteries, unfathomable depths and ever-shifting currents, accumulating into an elemental, regenerative source of power.

Recorded in a barn in Húsafell, Iceland – home to glacier ice caves and a rare lava stone marimba rediscovered for the track “Stone Pillars” – as well as Finland, Norway and at home in Kati’s native Netherlands, “SÁLA” is as much chronicle of Kati’s own perspective-shifting recording process as it as a pilgrimage through different viewpoints and internal states. That itinerate urge is also reflected in the use of different languages, ranging across Norwegian, Old Norse, Icelandic, and, for the first time, English, her combination of ancient texts, historical reimagining’s and unguarded personal reflection backed up by deep research into the most resonant recesses of Nordic lore.

Spun throughout every thread of “SÁLA” is a sense of communion - with the power of stories to offer moral guidance and the thrill of the unknown; with the element of water, recreated across the album both in field recordings and the agelessly organic nature of the music itself; with the archetypes whose qualities we are called upon to embody at our most critical moments; and with the internal hidden realms forever whispering at us from the far edges of our consciousness.

Appropriately, it’s a collaborative venture too. As well as working closely together with Finnish producer Jaani Peuhu, there are contributions from across the musical spectrum, including extreme metal vocalist extraordinaire Gaahl, the Icelandic female choir Umbra Ensemble, renowned Norwegian jazz musician Karl Seglem, Björk and Brian Eno contrabassist Borgar Magnason, members of pagan folk acts Völuspá, Gealdýr, Heilung and Theodor Bastard and even Napalm Death’s Mitch Harris on vocals.

For all the many sources “SÁLA” draws from, the result is a singular, intimately transformative rite of passage, and a retuning of the heart to the reverent continuity of the sacred. It will take you from the opening title track’s chest-pounding rhythmic pulse emerging from a traditional Norwegian bukkehorn (recorded by Karl Seglem), a galloping horse-rider and Kati’s glacial, velveteen chant, through “Kólga’s” recounting of female persecution through the ages borne on the most gossamer-light yet unbreakable of timbres and “Stone Pillar’s” gently percolating, deep wells of abandonment and incantations to recovery. “SÁLA” closes with the track “Sátta” - Old Norse for ‘peace’ and ‘reconciliation’ – ending the album as it began with the bukkehorn, as it weaves rich drones and experience-stamped poems and prayers, Kati’s vocals the most sensitively tuned of emotional barometers. An album made in dedication, and in thrall to, its own sense of destiny, “SÁLA” is, as all quests must ultimately be, a homecoming.

Album introduction written by Jonathan Selzer.

Clean Hands Go Foul (2009) generously offers more of everything: voluminous drones, clashing dissonance, mysterious subharmonic swells, escalating terror, and environments drenched in heavy anticipatory dread. The final hour of the band's first decade sees Khanate, as always, making "music that, even in the realm of extreme music, is dark and distorted" (Pitchfork). Clean Hands Go Foul would be followed by the ultimate minimalism, as the Khanate entity sat shrouded in silence until the release of 2023's To Be Cruel.

Clean Hands Go Foul (2009) generously offers more of everything: voluminous drones, clashing dissonance, mysterious subharmonic swells, escalating terror, and environments drenched in heavy anticipatory dread. The final hour of the band's first decade sees Khanate, as always, making "music that, even in the realm of extreme music, is dark and distorted" (Pitchfork). Clean Hands Go Foul would be followed by the ultimate minimalism, as the Khanate entity sat shrouded in silence until the release of 2023's To Be Cruel.

NAKID presents the first album in years from Max Loderbauer (Sun Electric) and Tobias Freund’s cult Non Standard Institute. Delving deep into the aether with a double LP - almost an hour and a half in length - featuring ruined, vaporous and engrossing ambient variations on a theme.

Planing axes between iridescent new age ambient, sublime folk and avant-classical, to miasmic drone and plangent shoegaze; ‘A Day or Two’ charts the Non Standard Institute’s first actions in 6 years and serves as a compelling reminder of their intuitive work in abundance. Expanding and contracting their sound across 18 parts, they arc from heaving, oddly-tuned drones to smoggy, surreal soundscapes, bringing a wealth of fine-tuned instincts to the table. With Max Loderbauer’s 35+ years as Berlin ambient pioneer with Sun Electric, jams with Villalobos, and roles in Vladislav Delay Quintet and the Moritz von Oswald Trio, he’s matched by Freund’s 40 years of deep engineering expertise embedded in the experimental industrial and techno trenches.

The melancholy, Satie-laced piano meditations that grounded 2018's '5863' are gone, and the human touch that's been present since their very first collaborations is placed under the microscope, enhanced by their use of the Haken Continuum Fingerboard, a gestural synth that was developed to open up new modes of playing. Loderbauer's experience with the piano helps him make the most of the instrument's touch-sensitive 3D surface, while Freund uses two multi-channel loopers, piping the sounds through his arsenal of pedals.

The 18 tracks are billed as "unplanned atmospheres" that arc from sombre, drone-heavy material to humid, tape-saturated imaginary-island jams such as 'Listening To Cells' and 'Are You One Of Them'. On the latter, the duo work patiently, letting dusted string plucks tumble across each other while warbling pads hum below, bending like flutes. On 'Unlikely Events', anxious didgeridoo-like wails are ruptured by environmental rattles, before ominous voices lead us into a pocket of industrialised resonance. In time, the skies open up and the sounds morph into pastoral song, the drone blurring into hopeful pads almost as lucid and eloquent as AFX's 'SAW Vol. II', with sonorous synths that float over formless strings. Reflective, cinematic arrangements for flute and silvery ambient give way to diffusions of denser, resonant polychromatics and pucker up in outernational, alien ambient impulses recalling Connor Camburn jamming with dirashe folk pipes.

Glasgow’s Somewhere Press return with their inaugural vinyl release, a new album from Madelyn Byrd aka Slowfoam. Mining the seam between ecology and technology, Byrd offsets syrupy, dissociated electronics with sparse acoustic instrumentation and expressive field recordings.

The polyrhythmic pulse of the natural world surges through Byrd’s productions, and though the sounds are mostly electronic and strictly metered, a landscape teeming with insects, birds, and wildlife fills the horizon. We’re languidly ushered through the gates on the opening 'Enlightened Smudge on the Machine', juxtaposing glassy tones with flute (from Berlin-based sound artist Diane Barbé) and skittering percussion that could have been lifted straight off Björk’s 'Vespertine'. "No traffic, under the stem," a stoic voice muses while sounds dissolve into waterlogged ambience. There are hints of vintage West Coast new age music, but Byrds' over-arching theme is one of a contemporary digital reality slowly harmonising with its distant, bucolic past.

Field recordist Pablo Diserens provides some of the album's most arcane material, handing over environmental recordings of sulphur pools, Arctic terns and glacial streams. The lengthy 'Divine Morpho, Shimmering' deploys a swarm of insects, forming a looped, uneven rhythm that counters Byrd's pulsing electronics. Choral stems mesh with uncanny strings, blurring the line that separates artificial from organic sound sources. Byrd uses mutation and reconstruction as a form of "speculative melting" to bring us closer to utopia. On 'Like Phantom Memories In The Slinking Storm’, one of the album's most levitational moments, they tease twangy harp-lyre plucks into dubbed-out smudges, eventually given a reprise on 'Grief Rituals' where the same riffs are stretched into slower phrases, queered against giddy, xenharmonic drones.

Bird calls and tremulous exotica mark the brilliant 'Fragrant Dusking', and ‘Soft Body Virisdescence' takes us to a gurgling, kaleidoscopic climax, with electronic processes thrust into the foreground. 'Of Data & Delight' distills all the album’s sonic elements into a sort of delirious fever dream, using pitched animal calls to signal sensuality. It's not ambient, exactly, even if it shares space with the 3XL crew's sludgy eroticism, and it's not wholeheartedly electro-acoustic either. The record exists at a place of convergence, as one era wrestles with a new dawn, and real life glimpses high fantasy.

London-based four-piece Adult Jazz announce their first full-length album in a decade, So Sorry So Slow, out 26 April 2024 via Spare Thought. Alongside the announcement comes lovesick new single ‘Suffer One’ featuring Owen Pallett, a cautious excavation of self and sexuality, clambering across a gorgeously shapeshifting, filmic five-minutes.

Containing some of the band’s most abrasive but gentle, beautiful and melismatic work to date, So Sorry So Slow has many defining characteristics: romance, panic, devotion and remorse, threaded together by an intentionally laser-focused love. It’s deeply personal, bruised and candid in its expressions of tenderness, and deeply pained in its concurrent reflections of ecological regret. Across its hour-long runtime, a delicate, frenetic energy and glacial heaviness coexist, the band pitting those paces against one another. In their richly experimental timbre, dancing strings and fluttering falsettos prang against a bed of brass drones like a wounded bird.

“We started writing in 2017 and began recording in 2018,” says vocalist Harry Burgess. “We genuinely thought it might be finished in 2018! But things kept developing and, having resolutely not struck while the iron was hot, there was no real external push to rush things after that, so we just kept letting things shift and unfold until it felt right. Listening back to my voice notes it’s nice to notice that there are fragments of ideas from the whole period 2017-2023 which have shaped the record.”

Recorded in bursts at studios across London and in the band members’ flats, at Konk, on the Isle of Wight and in Sussex, So Sorry is unambiguous in its evolution. Sonically, there are sparks of the arrhythmic brightness that afforded the band’s critically acclaimed debut album Gist Is its cult adoration, for fans of Arthur Russell and Meredith Monk, but with a blossoming, melancholic darkness often overhead. Piano sprees and luscious string sections appear like low-hanging stars on a night-time drive, whilst plunging vocal distortions and humming brass loops resurrect heavy limbs in a bad dream.

“I usually have objects as kind of totems for ideas,” explains Burgess. “The album initially started out to do with performance… the totem was a head mic, one of the subtle skin-tone ones, discreet on the forehead of a West End star. A number of the first songs in their original forms were almost musical theatre piano ballads. I think that was really a device to write about my life as the ‘main character’ (pre internet-speak reframing): regrets about romance, relationships - unsustainable relationships with the self and others.”

“However, once we started writing, the ideas about unsustainable personal relationships, loving unevenly and heartbreak conflated with a more expressly ecological regret. Like contending with big feelings of loss, endings, beauty, desolation, and with how much joy the earth contains in it. Feeling so much gratitude bound up in waves of sadness. Maybe witnessing a slow-motion goodbye to all that, or its last gasps. I love the earth and the life it supports so much. I love how ecosystems fit together - even the brutal stuff. It may be basic to say, but now is the time to be laser focused on that love. I was thinking about human centrality on earth, us as the ‘main character’, the way that is served by faith and romanticism, and the subsequent disingenuous understandings of our position in the ecosystem, as only stewards somehow, rather than subjects. The totems at this point: a herald’s horn, lorry inner tubes, archaeological tools. I guess from doom, industry, history respectively.”

“Now I would say the record is about gripping. Totems being: crampons, rope, drips, desalination equipment, accruing various survival tech. I think gripping sums up both of the threads. There’s the emotionally correct clinging to the earth that is the substrate of everything we value, or the delusional clinging to our imagined dominant position. But also the practical, technological aspects of creating a sustainable relationship, of remaining here. Then I think of romance again.”

So Sorry So Slow comes out 26th April 2024 on Spare Thought, mixed by Fabian Prynn at 4AD Studios and mastered by Alex Wharton at Abbey Road.

Adult Jazz is Harry Burgess, Tim Slater, Steven Wells and Tom Howe.

Earth, Our Planet?”: A call for environmental awareness. This time, Pedro Vian - the founder of Modern Obscure Music - presents his fourth solo album (following his 2020 release, "Ibillorca"). Due for release in spring 2024, "Earth, Our Planet?" promises to immerse us in a moving odyssey, crossing the boundaries of musical genres to provoke an urgent meditation on the protection of our planet. On this occasion Vian has composed the album influenced by the myth of the eternal return, the compositions are long and repetitive, generating states of pure trance.
Pedro Vian, singular for his fusion of genres and styles, ventures into even more complex territories in "Earth, Our Planet?". From the first listen, it is evident that this work treads the line of convention and breaks the boundaries of electronic and experimental music with artistic dexterity. The album weaves together texture, hypnotic rhythms and melody. Each track reveals his distinctive ability to create immersive landscapes, guiding the listener into deep emotional introspection. This is not just music; it is a transformative experience.
The beauty of this album lies not only in the musical vision. The album features high-calibre collaborations that add layers of creativity and elegance. Trumpeter Pierre Bastien, whose early productions left an indelible mark on Aphex Twin's Reflex label, infuses "A Day in Rotterdam" with a unique emotional resonance. Violinist, Asia, renowned for her avant-garde approach and ability to conjure unique landscapes, elevates the album's opening tracks "Urobóros" and "Les Tambours Subterraniens". Their skill and sensitivity intertwine perfectly with Vian's artistic vision. In addition, Italian producer Daniele Mana, with whom Pedro Vian collaborated closely on his previous album "Cascades", known for his experimental approach and talent for creating extraterrestrial atmospheres also contributes to "Les Tambours Subterraniens". His artistic perspective adds more complexity and texture to the piece, pushing the boundaries of contemporary electronic music. There is also a collaboration with Raül Refree, an artist with whom Vian worked with last year, presenting “Font De la Vera Pau”, an album that The Guardian defined as "a wonderful piece of electroacoustic music, a captivating mix of strings and analogue synth drones which sometimes flirts with Alice Coltrane-ish spiritual jazz". With "Earth, Our Planet?", Pedro Vian not only offers up some of his best work to date, but it is also a call to reflect on our relationship with the natural world. As a part of a planet where environmental awareness is more crucial than ever, he urges us to protect and preserve our world as an extension of ourselves. This extensive work is a statement, Vian addresses the notion that too often we prioritise immediate needs over the well-being of the planet. It highlights the fact that we often consider the Earth as a possession when, in reality, we are but a part of it.

As part of Subtext's 20th anniversary, Subtext presents the debut album from bela as a co-release with Unsound.

bela was based in Seoul when they began to develop the framework for 'Noise and Cries (굉음과울음)'.Chewed up by a society that's slow to embrace those who exist on the margins, they and their close friends became fixated on the concept of death. "I wanted to cry, I Wanted to die," they recall. "The precariousness of living in South Korea hits different. I thought, let's share what is killing us." bela refused to lose hope, so they inventoried the sounds, experiences and emotions that had formulated their identity and wondered how this might form a different sort of South Korean musical expression. They considered the guttural death metal growls and industrial music they heard when they began to interface with Western culture as a teenager, the idiosyncratic folk rhythms that rattled away in the background of state events, the evocative, euphoric drones that had offered them solace, and the heady, cybernetic maximalism that's come to define contemporary queer club music.If this was going to be an album about death, bela knew wouldn't it be preoccupied with loss, but rooted in a deep desire to regain the will to live.

'Noise and Cries (굉음과울음)' is the first time bela has recorded their voice, and they metamorphose it from moment to moment, embracing a precarious vulnerability. Opener 'The Sage' references Jungtaryeong, two well-known arias from the Korean Pansori tradition - a folk form that is usually performed by a drummer and a singer. Screaming, whispering and rasping, bela twists borrowed words from the original arias, repurposing them to highlight the hypocrisy and brutality of patriarchal wisdom.

These bellowed phrases contrast with an abrasive rhythm that bela based on the eatmore jangdan, an irregular, traditional beat that's been remoulded into a jerky, electro-acoustic call to action. Even if the gargled Korean wordplay can't be fully understood, the mood translate flawlessly. On 'Death Will I', they reassemble the damaged relationship between a queer child and their

First vinyl issue for this 2023 release with bonus track not available on CD.
Nine majestic electro-acoustic threshold devotionals.
**ELECTRONIC SOUND - review (issue 98) “While there are shades and texture in the journey from glowing opener “Cyan” to the glowering conclusion of “Magenta”, they’re so subtle that they make ‘Colours of Air’ the musical equivalent of Rothko’s paintings - monotone at first glance, but with intriguing depths if you’re prepared to search for them.”

MOJO - ★★★★ review in the Underground column (March issue) “Loscil and English’s manipulations drift closer to the ambient techno of Gas.”

UNCUT - 8/10 review (March issue) “Subtle complex, and not always pacifying…’Magenta’s extraplanetary grace is tempered by unresolved tension for distinctly uneasy listening.”
The union of composers Lawrence English and loscil aka Scott Morgan is seamless, sublime, and long overdue.
Born of a conversation centered on the notion of “rich sources” as a forge for electronic music, Colours Of Air is a collection of recordings of a century old pipe organ housed at the historic Old Museum in Brisbane, Australia, which were then processed, transformed, and elevated into eight majestic electro-acoustic threshold devotionals. The timbre of the instrument and spatial fluctuations of room tone infuse the music with a subdued, sacred feel, like vaulted light in a nave of stained glass. They describe the album as “an iterative project, a reduction and eventual expansion,” sifting the swells and drones of the organ for every shivering shade of radiance.
The tracks are named for the hue each piece suggests – from the gauzy levitational miasma of “Yellow” to the pulsing melancholic mirage of “Violet” to the seething twilit sandstorm of “Magenta.” Morgan and English are both adept at conjuring moods of muted grandeur, like landscapes veiled in dusk, still looming and luminous.

Out of print as a stand-alone release for decades since its original 1974 issue. Produced by George Harrison, Shankar Family & Friends is an almost-forgotten masterwork – an emotional and sonic pact between two like-minded souls to both advance their spiritually minded bond and unite musical styles, cultures, and sounds in wondrous fashion Contributions from Ringo Starr, David Bromberg, Billy Preston, Nicky Hopkins, Jim Keltner, Klaus Voorman, and a host of virtuosic Indian musicians add to a diverse album that melds Eastern and Western traditions; encompasses jazz, funk, bhajan, Indian, and pop; and represents the spirit and breadth of Harrison's Dark Horse Records imprint.

Memorable contributions from an A-list of American and English musicians — Ringo Starr (drums), David Bromberg (electric guitar), Billy Preston (organ), Nicky Hopkins (piano), Jim Keltner (drums), Klaus Voorman (bass), Robert Margouleff (Moog), Malcolm Cecil (Moog), Tom Scott (saxophone) included — add to the richness of a set that melds Eastern and Western traditions. These “names” mesh with a host of Indian virtuosos — Alla Rakha, Ashish Khan, Kamala Chakravarty, Hariprasad Chaurasia included — who turn Shankar Family & Friends into a journey laced with percussive, string, and vocal components that aren’t soon forgotten.

Throughout, Shankar Family & Friends remains true to its title — a mesmerizing record named to reflect the group participation approach of its creators. The idea started when Shankar told Harrison about a ballet he wrote. The Beatle, who first met Shankar in June 1966 — roughly a year after Harrison became interested in Indian music after overhearing it in a restaurant while filming Help! — immediately was convinced they needed to record it. Harrison’s staunch admiration of Shankar and serious approach to Eastern styles are reflected throughout the album.

Indeed, for Harrison, Shankar Family & Friends marks the culmination of a years-long effort to master the sitar, study Hinduism, and incorporate elements such as drones, unusual chords, and expressive picking into his own songs. The seeds of this unique collaboration can be heard in Beatles works such as “Norwegian Wood,” “Love to You,” and “Within You Without You.” Both musicians were also fresh from performing at the 1971 Concert for Bangladesh shows. Yet Shankar Family & Friends remains entirely unique in each visionary artist’s history — and ultimately, led to a collaborative tour Harrison and Shankar staged across North America.

Encompassing jazz, funk, bhajan, Indian, and pop, Shankar Family & Friends is thematically split into halves. Side One reveals Shankar’s uncanny ear for melody — even when applied to Western forms. The lead-off “I Am Missing You,” the first single ever released by Dark Horse Records and reportedly the first pop composition Shankar completed, underscores his skills as a composer and global ambassador. Beautifully sung across three octaves by his sister-in-law, Lakshmi Shankar, the devotional song features multiple drummers and production that mirrors Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound approach. Harrison plays autoharp and guitar; Starr sits in on drums; Scott handles flute and soprano saxophone. It’s the inviting start of a musical adventure teeming with color, majesty, and mysticism.

A second version of the track — designated with a “(Reprise)” tag — appears minutes later. Unfolding in different ways, it follows a folk ballad structure stitched together with Indian instrumentation. Here, according to Shankar, the musicians “attempted to convey the sounds and atmosphere of Vrindavan, the ancient holy place where Krishna grew up.” Both renditions speak to the cross-continental fusion that came so naturally to Harrison and Shankar, whose oversight on the side’s other vocal tracks ensures listeners familiar with Western methods gain easy access to the hypnotic allure of his native country’s music.

Nowhere is this more evident than on Dream, Nightmare & Dawn (Music for a Ballet), the side-long piece that served as the genesis for Shankar Family & Friends. Launched with an airy overture and unfolding across three movements, the mostly wordless suite features everything from call-and-response interplay and classical lyricism to uptempo dance figures, stacked rhythms, and intoxicating grooves. Blurring the lines between contemporary and traditional, and Western and Eastern, the inspirational work is the exclamation point on a record that defined “world music” well before the term became co-opted as a catch-all genre.

Perc Trax hits 100 releases with Perc returning with his first album in seven years. 'The Cut Off' is Perc's fourth album following 'Wicker & Steel' (2011), 'The Power & The Glory' (2014) and Perc Trax's best ever selling release 'Bitter Music' (2017).

'The Cut Off' see's Perc deliver his most dance floor focused album to date, serving up enough energy to keep contemporary dance floors moving, whilst avoiding both the cliched 90's throwback hard techno formula that is dominant right now and the stuckist 'real techno' blueprints that are still endlessly regurgitated having been established over 30 years ago.

Across the album Perc's well established industrial credentials collide with giant sized synth riffs, driving acid lines (a first for a Perc album) and all manner of drones, choral performances, urban textures and even a dentist's drill (on 'Static'). Gliding arpeggios and slow moving melodic lines feature more on this album than ever before without dulling the sharp edges of Perc's music.

'The Cut Off' more than any previous Perc long player is an album that focuses on the club, the dancer and the dance floor. Yes, there are moments of respite between the classic Perc percussive workouts, but they are far outnumbered by the varied collection of club tracks that come at the listener from every angle.

Collaborations include Sissel Wincent, a regular collaborator with Peder Mannerfelt. Perc remixed Peder & Sissel's 'Sissel &Bass' track to great effect in 2019 and now Sissel returns the favour appearing on 'Static', the album's only full vocal track. Also collaborating with Perc is EAS, one of America's fastest rising techno artists who delivers the raw acid lines that power album highlight 'Cold Snap'. Finally London based metal vocalist Leandro Bastos adds his abrasive vocal tones to 'Imperial Leather', the first single to be taken from 'The Cut Off'.

The 'Cut Off' was recorded in Perc's own studio and mixed by Perc at Map Studios in London. The album was mastered by Matt Colton at Metropolis Studios. Album design was handled by Lucas Grassmay, who previously worked on I Hate Models' debut album on Perc Trax in 2019. The album will be supported a run of dates around the world where Perc will be performing a special live set based around the album as well as his infamous DJ sets.

»Sound of Matter« is the debut album by Romanian sound artist and composer Simina Oprescu. The two pieces draw on research conducted with 15 historical church bells at the Märkisches Museum and the Stadtmuseum Berlin. After the artist had presented the results of her studies of the connection between matter and harmony in the form of a multi-channel installation, she has translated the underlying approach of this site-specific work into an album that unfolds slowly, consistently setting in motion subtle tonal changes that continuously change the mood of the two pieces. »Sound of Matter« is both minimalist and maximalist, creating an infinitely rich and multi-layered dronescape that modestly invites its audience to get lost in the sonic experience.

Oprescu has been fascinated by church bells since her childhood spent in Transilvania since the instruments were shrouded in mystery, as she explains in an in-depth essay that accompanies the album. Having received a Bachelor’s degree at UNArte in Bucharest and after studying at the Royal Conservatory of Mons in Belgium, Oprescu enrolled at Berlin’s Universität der Künste for an M.A. in Sound Studies and Sonic Arts. She started working with the archive of the Märkisches Museum, which included 15 historical church bells that were built between the 15th and the early 19th century.

Since every bell sounds different according to its shape, material, and density, Oprescu abstracted these qualities in the formula f = K1t/d^2√E/s(1-m^2). This enabled her to recreate the harmonic tone of the individual bells with Max/MSP. She then composed a piece with semi-overlayed tones, i.e. overlapping frequencies. Naturally, this resulted in a beating effect that provided the music with a sense of urgency, though the five second-long natural reverb of the Märkisches Museum’s Große Halle turned it into a »warm blanket of sound,« as the artist herself puts it. This is perfectly recreated on »Sound of Matter« due to the music being presented in mono, bringing out the intrinsic movement of the beatings with more nuance than a stereo version would.

»Sound of Matter« feels warm and welcoming even when different frequencies seem to create friction between each other or when the subtle beating effects turn into throbbing rhythms, like at the end of the record. It manages to explore both Oprescu’s personal fascination with church bells and psychological and psychoacoustic questions relating to them as well as philosophical issues connected with them. This music is profoundly physical, but also intellectually stimulating—perfectly at home in the catalog of the Swiss Hallow Ground label between records by Kali Malone, Lawrence English, or Siavash Amini.

The booklet features an in-depth essay on church bells by Simina Oprescu.

In the beginning was a half-truth, the truth was of war and the half-truth was post-war. Fancying the pretensions of its cultural superiority, a continent chose to hide the truth behind ridiculous jargon and the soothing distance of offshored ?????????. Europe wished itself beyond war because it thought the privilege of peace a birthright, just as it refused to understand that post-war was a euphemism for interbellum. Then the truth has set us free.

The delusion was discarded and war was revealed as an inconceivable horror. Almost immediately it turned familiar and virtually comfortable. Novelty songs of drones gutting tanks became a laughing matter and the burning tanks, their crew inside, entertainment. Consequently, a plurality of people started to collectively dream of new stages of the righteous kind of carnage. This happened within weeks.

Our imagination has swollen to the point of loss of consciousness, compounded by the narrative form long in the sways of atrophy. All of this raises the question of to what degree were the years of peace culturally squandered. The art of the previous age prided itself on self-awareness, today we fail to even notice that we no longer recognize ourselves. But we have arrived where we started and our issues were not too complex for expression.

Since no art form generates action, the most appropriate art for a culture on the edge of extinction is one that simulates pain. In these times we shouldn't produce any other music, none but this, intended to prevent our silence from being misinterpreted.

For the last seven years, sound artist, technologist, and electronic musician Moisés Horta Valenzuela (aka Hexorcismos) has been studying artificial intelligence and generative art, wondering how these new technologies might be augmented into his musical process. Born in Tijuana and currently based in Berlin, Hexorcismos has long attempted to break down the permeable borders between musical styles and expressions, using the spaces in between to reinforce his politics and worldview. And on 'MUTALISMX - becoming sonic network', he expands his vision, inviting artists from across the globe to collaborate on work that questions the biases inherent in AI models, offering a collective alternative that could serve as a blueprint for further research.

The majority of AI art at this stage works with "big data", taking ideas from the cultural canon and muddying them with our contemporary reality. But if we accept that mass culture is always politically biased, always swaying towards historical prejudices, then there must be a counter-narrative. Hexorcismos began to develop a bottom-up approach, using "small data" to interrogate his idiosyncratic approach to art; he built a tool called SEMILLA.AI based on neural audio synthesis that could not only mimic his sonic fingerprint but transform it into another. So when he offered the synth to his network of collaborators, he gave them the option of either using only their data or sharing the signatures of each other artist involved in the project, blurring their identities into a mutual voice.

The result is a compilation that unspools with the coherence and fluidity of a single-artist album or adventurous DJ mix, genreless and boundless but unified by a singular message. Hunanese-American artist Kloxii Li for example takes rugged percussion and tense, industrial ambience, smudging her soundscape into a swirling gust of ghostly dissonance. Hexorcismos himself contributes two compositions: the lengthy, hypnotic 'Acaso de veras se vive con raíz en la Tierra', an AI-powered scramble of his pointed tribal guarachero experiments; and 'Interferencias', a collaboration with Mexican club veteran Bryan Dálvez, aka El Irreal Veintiuno that drives intense dancefloor rhythms into a dense haze of frozen drones and radio static. Elsewhere, Berlin-based Lebanese artist and writer Jessika Khazrik dissolves her voice into a mesh of obscured rhythms and dissociated whirrs, blending the organic with the artificial but retaining an overpowering sense of humanity.

Some artists were drawn to the nebulous aspects of the technology, searching for truth in a soup of different sounds, while others, such as KMRU, used Hexorcismos's synthesizer the examine their output. On 'hidden options', the Kenyan sound artist fed his immense catalog into the neural net, bringing out his mannerisms and tendencies in the process. Each track is singular but myriad, prompting both mutual respect and a sonic becoming, a feedback process between the artist and the tool, the individual and the collective. Data sets are made by people, and by engaging directly with musicians, Hexorcismos suggests a new way of utilizing a technology demonized and glorified without careful examination. Each artist owns their AI model, and alongside the album Hexorcismos will release SEMILLA.AI to the public (with custom-made models to start the process), allowing anyone to access this revolutionary technology.

Even the album's artwork reflects the political message, conceptualized by Chilean duo hypereikon, who used AI processes to develop a visual reflection of the technology and its possibilities. Operating outside of academia and capitalist enterprises, MUTUALISMX proposes an alternative future - one without borders that's not beholden to the Western canon, where independent labor can be prioritized and celebrated, and where creativity can truly flourish.

The latest release on An’archives, Suikyō, documents a first-time meeting between three Japanese improvisers: Takashi Masubuchi on guitar and harmonica; Ayami Suzuki on voice and electronics; and Tomo on hurdy-gurdy. Recorded at Permian on the 29th of January, 2023, it’s a stunning, forty-minute long improvisation of rare artistic sympathy. Notably, it was the first time the trio had performed together, though Masubuchi and Suzuki have prior form as a duo; on the evening itself, the trio performance was preceded by solo sets from Suzuki and Tomo, which served as a kind of introduction, of sorts, to the broader aesthetic visions of two of the musicians on Suikyō.

Masubuchi, Suzuki and Tomo make for a fascinating trio, not only due to the shared musical sympathy that’s clear from their performance, but also due to their histories, and the way these dovetail on the music you hear on Suikyō. Masubuchi has recorded a number of stunning solo albums for guitar and has also improvised with a number of musicians: you can hear his responsiveness and thoughtful playing on albums alongside Suzuki, Taku Sugimoto, Straytone, Shizuo Uchida, Takahiro Kawaguchi, and more. Suzuki’s work for voice has been documented on several solo cassette releases, and in consort with Tetuzi Akiyama, Rob Noyes, Leo Okagawa, Aidan Baker and Tobias Humble. And Tomo’s music can be heard on a small clutch of solo CDs, as a member of Tetragrammaton and Archeus, and in collaboration with Junzo Suzuki.

The way their instrumental voices meld together on Suikyō, though, is evidence of a capacity both to draw from these histories, and to take these collective knowledges to new places. And sometimes, unexpectedly old places: Masubuchi notes that his guitar on this set took him back to the rock and blues he used to play, perhaps in earlier groups like Pelktopia, which he suggests contributes to “the psychedelic mood” of Suikyō. Tomo’s hurdy gurdy matches this by pulling drones out of the air or allowing melodies to slowly morph and envelop the listener – their development, at times, reminds me of troubadour music from Occitanie.

Suzuki’s presence is equally compelling and curious. Her voice is an eternally flexible instrument, and whether it sits unadorned within the soundworld magic’d into space by Masubuchi and Tomo, or slips between the cracks thanks to subtle use of electronic effects, it has a quality about it that is both otherworldly – at times, the voice soars and pirouettes – and thoroughly, deeply grounded, of this earth, a most human and intimate encounter. There is a lovely consort between Suzuki and Tomo, the voice and hurdy-gurdy shadowing each other: as Tomo notes, “the hurdy gurdy has been an instrument played to accompany singing since the Middle Ages.” For Suzuki, the performance was “psychedelic and hedonistic in a good way,” but it wasn’t simply given in to that experience: “we were at the same time looking at it from an objective point of view.”

That feels like the right way to approach Suikyō: as a performance that both sets the mind and ears spinning, but with a careful, thoughtful, and considerate objectivity to its moment-by-moment development. It’s also incredibly gorgeous. As a first encounter, it’s surprising in both its comfort and its challenge: and as Masubuchi says, the playing together feels just the way it had to be: “instinctive, unintentional, and inevitable.”

repress, yellow viny

When we established Balmat in 2021, neither of us could have imagined that within two years, we’d be putting out an album by one of our musical heroes: Mike Paradinas, aka µ-Ziq. The British producer has been an inspiration to label co-founders Albert Salinas and Philip Sherburne since the 1990s. In fact, his album-length remix project The Auteurs Vs µ-Ziq was one of the very first pieces of electronic music that Philip bought, way back in 1994. To have the opportunity to release his music now feels like a real full-circle moment.

Paradinas, of course, needs no introduction. Under a slew of aliases, chief among them µ-Ziq, the British artist revolutionized leftfield electronic music in the 1990s—coincidentally, this year marks the 30th anniversary of his debut album, Tango N’ Vectif, for his friend and sometime collaborator Aphex Twin’s Rephlex label—and his label Planet Mu has built up a formidable catalog of visionary, forwardlooking records, mapping virtually every corner of the electronic spectrum. With 1977, he turns the clock backward in a sense, and not just with the album’s title: Rooted in classic ambient and electronic sounds, these 15 tracks evoke the anything-goes spirit of the early ’90s, before the tools and tropes had calcified into cut-and-dried styles.

There’s no shortage of familiar sounds on 1977. There are echoes of raves and chillout rooms and transmissions from the fringes of techno; there are detuned synths and glistening reverb tails and, above all, gauzy vox pads, the eerie glue that holds it all together. The title, he says, is meant to invoke a general sense of nostalgia, bookmarking a year in his boyhood when he became more selfaware. More than anything, 1977 sounds like µ-Ziq distilled: Stripped of his signature breakbeats and customary chaos, Paradinas’ first-ever strictly (well, mostly) ambient album presents the essence of his music in a whole new light.

Along the way Paradinas touches on dark-ambient drones (“Marmite”), horror-film themes (“Belt & Carpet”), jungle breaks (“Mesolithic Jungle”), and even house music (“Houzz 13”), which marks the first bona fide dance-floor moment on Balmat to date). Yet the album never—to our ears, anyway— feels expressly retro. Rather, Paradinas plucks timeless sounds out of the ether and gives them a gentle tap, spinning them into unexpected new orbits. At times, 1977 feels like an experience of extended déjà vu: When we first listened to it, we had the sense that we already knew this music. It was as though we had heard it years ago, perhaps on a battered cassette tape lent to us by a friend, and been searching for it ever since. We hope you feel the same.

finally available again on vinyl, note the new price. The most critically revered and commercially successful Eluvium album finally released on stand-alone vinyl for the first time ever. Originally released on CD and Digital formats only, Copia was eventually available on vinyl exclusively as part of the Life Through Bombardment Vol. 1 box set. With thatset long out of print – and Copia celebrating its 10-year anniversary – we are finally giving this landmark album the vinyl reissue that it unquestionably deserves. Remastered for vinyl by Francesco Donadello at Calyx Mastering in Berlin, this deluxe 2xLP set is packaged in a full-color wide-spine jacket with dual heavyweight full-color inner sleeves. // “The grandest, most sweeping Eluvium record to date.” Pitchfork // “A magnificent set, awash in textures, atmospheres, moods, and emotion.” AllMusic // “Copia is the sound of Cooper surpassing himself, combining his patented minimalist drones with beautifully rendered piano.” – Drowned In Sound // Following a string of increasingly remarkable albums, Eluvium's Matthew Cooper set out to broaden his instrumental palette, while maintaining the uncanny emotional resonance that has become his trademark. The result is Copia, an hour-long epic that applies Eluvium's heartache-inducing ether to a symphony of strings, brass, keyboards and piano. Noticeably absent but hardly missed are the washes of guitars that color most of Eluvium's previous material. The deliberate exclusion of traditional rock instrumentation serves as sufficient proof that the instrument is not Eluvium's driving force. At best it is a catalyst, a vehicle to that netherworld in the back of your head, where your life starts to uncontrollably reevaluate itself. Also Available From Eluvium: False Readings On CD, 2LP, Life Through Bombardment Vol. 2 7LP, Nightmare Ending 2CD, The Motion Makes Me Last CDEP, Leaves Eclipse The Light CDEP, Similes CD, Talk Amongst the Trees CD / 2LP, An Accidental Memory In the Case of Death CD, Lambent Material CD

»In Words« is the first solo album by the Danish musician, composer, and visual artist Alexander Tillegreen. The album represents a series of varied electronic music pieces while also carrying examples of ongoing work with psychoacoustic phenomena. Composed partly of material taken from his artistic practice as an installation artist and his ongoing interdisciplinary artistic research into psychoacoustic phenomena, Tillegreen investigates subjective sonic perception and the negotiation of language. Particularly, these investigations are done through the use of the phantom word illusion, originally discovered by music psychologist Diana Deutsch. Parts of the album were conceived when Tillegreen was the first artist ever in resident at the Max Planck Institute for Empirical Aesthetics. Triggering the brain’s tendency to interpret language-based auditory illusions as meaningful information and as words within the mind of the listener, Tillegreen’s unique sound works unfold like a kaleidoscope of phonetic mirrors which render possibilities to reflect upon the listener’s own psychological and culturally situated linguistic embeddedness. Gender-distorted voice perception, speech and language borders are all challenged and thematized throughout Tillegreen’s work. The listener’s head and bodily movement drastically affect the listening and the word interpretation. Their psychological subconsciousness, recent events, memories, and expectations as well as the listener’s motion in space all become co-creative and co- composing factors in a reactive and choreographic process of listening. The polyrhythmic seriality of spatialized syllabic structures is accompanied by elements of heavy bass drops, high-frequency tensions, undulating synth lines, and hypnotic effects. Some of the many compositional potentials of the phantom word illusions are exercised and unfolded in selected tracks throughout the album. The notion of language borders is approached from an entirely different and even more “anti-logocentric” perspective on the “eponymous” closing track »Assimilate (in Words)«, where the listener experiences the struggle and collapse of interpersonal communication through conversation. Other parts of the album represent more diverse approaches to abstract electronic music. »In Words« morphs soundscapes into glacial, spherical passages of ambient backdrops, while at other times emphasizes raw tectonic blocks of hyper-panning drones that erupt into high-velocity outlets of energetic, granular fields. Tillegreen is alternating between cyclical, minimalist, hypnotic approaches and complex, glitchy polyrhythmic melodic structures that shift and melt into evocative ambiences. The phantom words and the nature of Tillegreen’s musical visions progressively demand more of the listener’s attention and represent the artist’s ongoing artistic work and scientific research into psychoacoustics and language. While »In Words« is a highly conceptual album, the musical bandwidth is extensive.

This fifth studio effort from French heavy psychedelic stalwarts MARS RED SKY is a genuine conceptual piece of work skilfully designed to take the listener on a journey through a shifting, unpredictable and even utterly disconcerting sonic universe. Bordeaux-based trio explore progressive and post-metal territories with boundless inspiration. Their original signature of jagged vocals and thundering rhythm is spiced up by drones and various mid-kraut rock and mid-gothic effects. The atmospheres and settings are finely crafted, with Julien Pras's voice adding a delicious pop languor. The music is the master of the narrative here, absorbing all the components of the album and shaping them into a kind of reversible allegory, as appealing as disturbing. The tour de force of 'Dawn Of The Dusk' lies in its ability to carve out a unique creative sphere in which you can't help but marvel.

This fifth studio effort from French heavy psychedelic stalwarts MARS RED SKY is a genuine conceptual piece of work skilfully designed to take the listener on a journey through a shifting, unpredictable and even utterly disconcerting sonic universe. Bordeaux-based trio explore progressive and post-metal territories with boundless inspiration. Their original signature of jagged vocals and thundering rhythm is spiced up by drones and various mid-kraut rock and mid-gothic effects. The atmospheres and settings are finely crafted, with Julien Pras's voice adding a delicious pop languor. The music is the master of the narrative here, absorbing all the components of the album and shaping them into a kind of reversible allegory, as appealing as disturbing. The tour de force of 'Dawn Of The Dusk' lies in its ability to carve out a unique creative sphere in which you can't help but marvel.