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Two decades into their existence, Elder remain an anomaly in the heavy underground - a band with the ability to absorb and shed influences from a myriad of genres without falling into pastiche or losing their identity. Their new album Through Zero is a reaffirmation of their commitment to pushing boundaries and cements their status as leaders in heavy psychedelic rock. Elder has long since mastered crushing riffs, melodic jaunts, progressive patterns, hypnotic grooves and ethereal atmosphere along their path of music-making in the past twenty years. On Through Zero, Elder takes these years of experience and forms possibly their most immediate and engaging record to date, while allowing seeds from outside the sphere of rock music to take root and bloom within their progressive framework. Listeners will find familiar elements of new textures, sequences, and sounds alongside Elder"s iconic take on heavy rock. As always, every spin reveals new details. Recorded in Berlin across several months between tours in 2025, Through Zero is the first album which the band not only produced but also comixed together with longtime collaborator Richard Behrens. The album sounds more like a full extension of the band"s creative intentions than ever before.

Ital Tek's new album 'Mind Abandon' takes a different direction from his recent run of releases, embracing a more human touch in contrast to the dense, world-building drone of his previous albums and film work. This time, he set out to compose away from the computer as much as possible _ working more instinctively and allowing himself to get lost in the music. Alan found the most natural starting point was his own voice, processing vocals into shifting pads and textures. His guitar sits at the centre of much of the record, joined by live, hand-played percussion and effects, often captured in quick, spontaneous performances. The result is an album of spacious, contrasting dynamics, with textures pressing against each other and rhythmic elements fighting to surface from glutinous, layered sound. "It feels like a very introspective record for me," Alan says. "Losing my sense of identity/self as part of the process - the increasing effort to calm my mind and embrace humanity/imperfection in the music. This path made sense as a jumping off point for a lot of the music to be vocal or guitar experiments - singing in ideas and then processing to become less identifiable." The album feels carved and three-dimensional, weaving industrial and shoegaze influences with the darker edges of post-rock. Subtly embedded in its architecture are traces of dubstep dynamics _ a sound that remains part of Alan's DNA. Opening track "The Ice Is Thin" is driven almost entirely by live guitar and keyboard, awash in reverb. On "A Hidden Path," everything apart from the drums stems from processed vocals and guitar, with a fleeting appearance from his daughter's toy ukulele. It unfolds like the beginning of a journey _ vast and cinematic _ nodding to the widescreen tension of Ennio Morricone before building into a towering wall of noise. "Killswitch" disorients with pounding kick drums crafted from twanging acoustic guitar, pushing through layers of static-charged chords. "Undertow" spirals outward on looping guitar figures set against a pulsing Rhodes. "Misted," built around a rare four-to-the-floor beat, uses guitar as a driving rhythmic device, opening with a bassline that wouldn't feel out of place on a The Cure record. "Imagined Landscape" introduces icy keyboard textures that foreshadow the dark closer, "The Pull," where an arpeggiated bassline reminiscent of DAF underpins unnerving, internalised sound design that feels as though it's scratching from within. Mind Abandon closes on a heavy, stalking note _ fresh sounds drawn from the body and the heart.

For RCR003, we looked to someone carrying the West Coast lineage forward with our first full solo EP from upcoming producer Adam Rose.

“Gravitation of the Past” honors the past while setting its sights on the future.

A quiet drag from somewhere behind, like the past has unfinished business.

A moment suspended Time Ahead & Standby caught between where you’ve been and where you’re headed. Mostly static, then a brief moment where everything clicks. Then the voice shows up.

Familiar enough to trust. Dangerous enough not to.

Out by the still waters of Atitlán, watching the surface hold everything and nothing at once, it becomes clear some things aren’t meant to be solved. Just seen.
You can look, just don’t linger.

What’s left is lighter funked out, a little crooked, still moving.

Originally released in the height of the underground disco revival, The Sounds Of Revolution EP has since become a sought-after modern classic. After years out of circulation — and with original copies now trading hands for €80-100 on the second-hand market — this long-requested EP finally returns to vinyl.

Italian producer Giovanni Damico (aka G-Machine / Ron Juan) delivers four timeless boogie cuts that perfectly bridge vintage Italo, cosmic disco and modern club energy. From the euphoric synth hooks of the title track to the robotic funk of “Italians In A Line”, this EP captures everything that made Damico a staple in DJ bags across Europe.

Carefully reissued for a new generation of selectors, this release is equal parts heritage and dancefloor weapon — essential for fans of Italo, nu-disco, boogie and anyone building a serious disco collection. Expected shipping: End of May/begin of June 26.

Sometimes the title of an album tells you everything you need to know. Laurence Pike’s Possible Utopias for Jazz Quintet is like that: The music within represents a search for freedom, potentiality—liberatory strategies that transcend the ego and the solitary, atomized figure.

But in this case, the album title is also a red herring, because there is no jazz quintet here—just Pike, his drums, and his machines, not so much an ersatz ensemble as a purely notional one, a thought experiment equipped with drumsticks, circuitry, and the desire to go beyond hardwired limits.

And the results, strictly speaking, aren’t really jazz, though they incorporate the vocabulary of jazz, along with that of ambient, electronica, and post-rock. They are some other thing, cognizant of genre but never beholden to it. Again, we’re talking about a search for freedom here.

The Sydney-based musician has a long history of coloring outside the lines, not just in his solo recordings—including four albums for the Leaf label between 2018 and 2024—but also in the trio Pivot (later PVT); Szun Waves (alongside saxophonist Jack Wyllie and Border Community’s Luke Abbott); Triosk, which recorded an album with Jan Jelinek in 2003; and even post-punk titans Liars, whom he joined in late 2018.

Of his first album for Balmat, Pike says, “My loose concept was: What does music sound like when the expectations of late capitalism are removed from it? How might a jazz musician from an idealised culture of the future, or even another world, utilise musical language when the conventions of style and marketing are no longer a factor in music making?”

That inquiry, he says, connects to his “guiding principle: that the purpose of music is to access something bigger than the individual, and reveal a sense of possibility and freedom in the world to the listener. To create an understanding that the future can be something other than what we imagined or expect, even unconsciously.”

Heady ideas, but plug into his stream-of-metaconsciousness flow and you may start to intuit what motivates him. There is a deeply lyrical expression in these pieces—in the ruminative piano of opener “Guardians of Memory,” for example—but also a sense of exploded perspective, of ideas approached from more angles than any one mind could dream up. Of a collectivized consciousness, of mycelial networks branching across tone and rhythm and timbre, of ideas articulated in distributed fashion, nodal points dancing across drum heads.

Pike’s imaginary quintet is hardly without precedent; it’s a continuation of concepts floated across Jan Jelinek’s Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records, Burnt Friedman’s many guises, and much of the recombinant improv of the International Anthem roster, not to mention the far corners of ECM’s catalog in the late 1970s and 1980s, which Pike says have been integral to his development since he was a teenager. Possible Utopias for Jazz Quintet is a point in a continuum, a voice in a conversation, a question with no obvious answer: How can the search for otherness in music manifest something true about ourselves?

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.

Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.

For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.

The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.

Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”

The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.

Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.

Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.

The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.

‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”

The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”

Andreu G. Serra and Kiran Leonard first met in Lisbon nine years ago, arriving in the city within weeks of each other by chance. Living together in a crumbling warehouse in Alto São João, they recorded a series of improvisations that became The Piri Piri Samplers (Memorials of Distinction, 2019): Serra’s abrasive, tape-warped guitar lines colliding with Leonard’s stark, pedal-free counterpoint. They played a single gallery show, left Lisbon that summer, and then spent almost a decade living in different countries.

When Stroom reissued The Piri Piri Samplers in 2024, the label suggested the duo make a new record. At first, it seemed impossible: Leonard was in London, Ubaldo in southern Catalonia, and their attempts at long-distance recording quickly collapsed into nothing. But the near-failure sparked something. Leonard travelled to Catalonia to restart the process in person; soon after, Serra moved to South London, and the pair began meeting every week.

The result is Making Friends: a richer, more expansive album built over six months. Where The Piri Piri Samplers was assembled from raw improvisations, Making Friends transforms fragments into fully realised songs, weaving together nylon and steel-string guitars, piano, drums, bells, samplers and more. For the first time, Serra and Leonard sing together, each in his own language - Catalan and English - sometimes translating one another in real time.

Musically, Making Friends still carries the jagged dissonance and free-blues spirit of the duo’s earlier work, while opening outward toward everything from emo and blown-out noise to fractured chamber pop. There are only three guests on the album, and they are worth mentioning: Rachel Leonard and Antonia Serra (the musicians' mothers) on the seventh tune, and the American poet Pete Simonelli (of Enablers) appears on Top of Duboce / Tyne Bridge Crossing, one of the album’s two sprawling centerpieces.

At its heart, Making Friends is an album about friendship: about distance, reunion, family, and the stubborn need to make music together. It begins with uncertainty and disconnection, but ends somewhere stronger - with, as put on the closing track, “molta il.lusió per lo que pugue vindre” or “much excitement for what may come.”

The final album recorded by the late double-Grammy-winning Chuck Mangione, Everything for Love, was the flugelhorn maestro's second outing for Chesky Records, a New York label renowned for its audiophile-quality recordings and for cutting its artists live in what producer David Chesky described as "reverberant spaces" using a single microphone

The epitome of a modern artist, Jana Bahrich does most things herself, no matter how painstaking - writing, producing, directing, often hand painting t-shirts the day of shows when the band have run out of merch. This has helped give her band Francis of Delirium a unique identity, with her rock confessionals breathing a new life in to the genre and her paintings creating a striking design aesthetic. Released as she was finishing high school, 2020’s single 'Quit Fucking Around’ was a great introduction and it remains one of her most enduring songs.

Shortly after it’s release, she signed to artist-first indie Dalliance Recordings (Gia Margaret, HighSchool, lilo) and three EPs - All Change (2020), Wading (2021), The Funhouse (2022) and a striking debut album - Lighthouse (2024) - on and Jana has Francis of Delirium flying. While the EP’s fizzed with promise, her debut album Lighthouse landed its punches. Seeking a more vulnerable and open sonic palette, she wove in pop elements to create anthems that celebrated heartbreak and love. Lead singles ‘Real Love’ and ‘First Touch’ were the first tracks she made with an outsider - working with GRAMMY winning producer Catherine Marks (boygenius, The Killers, Wolf Alice) - while the rest of the album was produced by Jana herself and day one collaborator Chris Hewett. The critics were impressed too - “Bahrich’s choruses, almost every one, are lumpin-your-throat gorgeous.” NME; “Jana Bahrich seems too young for this tremendous debut’s ambitious anthems.” Uncut; “A rewarding experience that captures a talented, young artist at the crossroads between adolescence and adulthood." Paste. Live, Francis of Delirium are Jana (guitar and vocals), Jeff Hennico (bass) and Denis Schumacher (drums). Together, their brilliant quiet-loud dynamic and tight interplay only elevate her songs and over the last 5 years, they’ve toured across Europe and North America, playing headline shows, festivals and tours with the likes of Blondshell, Briston Maroney, The Districts, Horsegirl and Soccer Mommy. They’ve also supported The 1975, Alanis Morissette, DIIV and Wolf Alice.

Last summer saw a memorable UK tour with Bôa, the 90s band resurrected by a huge TikTok moment for their track ‘Duvet’. There was a real sense of excitement for these shows with young crowds snaking outside every venue hours before doors and bringing the sort of energy Jana thrives on, she road tested new material to an overwhelmingly positive response, giving her the impetus to go and finish album two. An artist who seeks to connect with her listener on a deeper level, it’s no surprise then that she’s made hope and inner strength central themes on her new album, Run, Run Pure Beauty. Jana says the title track is “an imagining of the world after it has been destroyed by humans and technology. Thrashing against what humans have left behind, ultimately the pure beauty of nature wins out.”

Wanting to bring different perspectives into her songwriting with this record - informed by both her travels and the tumultuous times we find ourselves in - she’s also brought about a progression in her sound with these new songs somehow sounding larger, with undeniable harmonies and more orchestration. Featuring the singles ‘Little Black Dress’ and ‘It’s a Beautiful Life’, Run, Run Pure Beauty serves as an excavation of hope in bleak times. Produced by Jana and Chris, and mixed by Nicolas Vernhes (Deerhunter, Dirty Projectors, Silver Jews, Wild Nothing), its eleven songs of discovery, despair and perseverance ultimately serve as a mirror on its creator and is a brilliant next installment in the Francis of Delirium arc.

Pure Motorised Instinct drives over to Dark Entries with At Last I’m Leaving the Earth, an LP of industrial-tinged ambient and new age. When legendary industrial outfit Nagamatzu went dormant in 1991, band member Stephen Jarvis moved forward with Pure Motorised Instinct, a name he pulled from a line in George Romero’s Dawn of the Dead. Throughout two cassette albums - 1991’s Between Intimacy and Elsewhere, and 1993’s Everything Is True - Jarvis pushed the Nagamatzu spirit in new directions. At Last I’m Leaving the Earth collects 9 tracks from this era, which are appearing on vinyl for the first time, along with 3 additional tracks on a bonus CD. The material here sits between the brooding and the optimistic, the claustrophobic and the soporific. Jarvis’s digital synths are pushed so far into tape-scuffed terrain that they talk and squawk analog-like, scurrying with vibrant curiosity. The late-night vibes peak on pieces like “Vincent V,” with its reverb-drenched digital drum machines, or “Geek,” which taps into a wide-eyed proto-vaporwave zone.    At Last I’m Leaving the Earth is Black Lodge ambient for the empty set. 

Brighter Discs opens with its first release from label founders Kamma & Masalo. Born out of Brighter Days, the duo’s long running party series since 2014. A colourful get together where generations mix freely, DJ legends share space with new voices, and the dancefloor is treated as common ground. Brighter Discs carries this same spirit into recorded form, a natural continuation following the Brighter Days compilation previously released on Rush Hour.

Brighter Discs starts things off with ‘Can’t Fake The Feeling’, built around the original vocal by Renee Mohannon, taken from the 1989 release produced by house music pioneer Joe Smooth. The vocal is fully cleared and officially licensed, with everything surrounding it newly written and produced, resulting in a club track that honours the emotional core of the original vocal while giving it new space to shine.

The ‘Club Mix’ unfolds with immediate lift, a classic yet upfront house energy carried by Kamma & Masalo’s elevating instrumentation moving in lockstep with Renee Mohannon’s vocal. A pure club track celebrating dance music to the fullest.

On the flip you will find K&M’s ‘Unity Dub’, a darker, percussion driven workout that strips things back and presents the track in a different light. A twilight version that highlights the duo’s versatility and deep dancefloor understanding.

Kamma & Masalo have tested both cuts extensively while touring, from sun soaked festival stages to esoteric club spaces. Each version has been shaped in real rooms and refined on the road, ensuring the tracks are heard in their best possible form.

All produced with care and free-spirited party energy, Brighter Discs 001 marks the beginning!

London Jazz Classics originally came out in 1993 - the first album ever to be released on Soul Jazz Records. The album brought together rare and obscure dance tracks in a unique mix of jazz dance and fusion, funk, Brazilian and Latin grooves. 

The album was ironically titled - none of the music was from London, none of the music was traditionally classified as jazz, and all of the tracks were at the time practically unknown to most people. Instead these were tracks that were filling dancefloors in a nascent jazz dance scene in London being created by a small group of DJs – Paul Murphy, Gilles Peterson, Sylvester, Patrick Forge and a few others.

As demand for these rare groove jazz tracks grew, previously unknown records such as Alive!’s ‘Skindo Le Le’, Doug Richardson’s ‘Salsa Mama’, Carlos Franzetti’s ‘Cocoa Funk’ and Emilio Santiago’s ‘Bananeira’ became sort after and even-harder-to-find items with original copies going for £100s of pounds. 
These tracks became part of the soundtrack to this jazz dance scene which has now spread across the world. This music paved the way for the arrival of many of the UK’s new wave of current artists such Shabaka Hutchings, Nubya Garcia and Ezra Collective who today offer a uniquely London sensibility of fusing jazz with wide-ranging cultural influences – everything from afrobeat to soul.

London Jazz Classics was the first album to bring this jazz dance music featured here to a wider audience. More than 30 years since its initial release Soul Jazz Records are releasing this new 2026 edition, bringing the music once more to a new generation of listeners.

2023 Backstock

New album of one of the biggest Reggae/Dub french soundsystem starring MacGyver, Rooty Step & Pupajim (who worked with Alpha Steppa, Biga Ranx, High Tone, Mungo's Hi-Fi ...).

Since their inception at start of the 2000s, Stand High Patrol have rocked sound systems to their own riddim, assimilating and re-purposing the codes of the genre in their own unique style. From tiny bars in Brittany to huge festival stages, on independent radio or across national airwaves, the crew have quietly trod their own path, never compromising their core value of independence. Connoisseurs have long recognised Stand High’s credentials both as a dub group and a leading sound system, but they stand out from the crowd because of their ability to deliver the unexpected, whether live or on record. Their ability to draw such a diverse audience is testament to this atypical approach to making music.

In 2020, almost 20 years since their humble beginnings, the collective presents their fifth album, “Our Own Way”. As with their first two albums “Midnight Walkers” and “Matter Of Scale”, now considered as classics in their genre, this new opus asserts itself as the latest representation of the crew’s versatile approach to crafting sound. Their music, a blend of its own known as “Dubadub”, has always borrowed influences from multiple sources, and over the course of their career their roots in dub and reggae have intertwined with hip-hop, jazz, new wave, trip-hop and numerous other genres. The ‘Dubadub Musketeers’ have never ceased experimenting, forever seeking to increase the sonic territory they cover, day after day. Both live and recorded, they’ve made it a point of honour to never offer up the same thing twice. Any resemblance that “Our Own Way” might bear to those first two albums is a consequence of this obvious creative continuity, rather than of going “back to basics”.

In contrast to the last two Stand High Patrol records, the hip-hop inspired “The Shift”, or the Bristol indebted “Summer On Mars”, “Our Own Way” doesn’t have a unifying concept or theme. Rather than being limited to a single aesthetic, the LP pays respect to the entire canon of Jamaican music, all unified under Stand High’s inimitable production values. With the wealth of experience gained during the recording of their last two records, the collective decided to aim for a freer project, letting themselves be guided by their own music and their own instincts. The end result is a musical portrait of what Stand High Patrol is in the present moment.

The tracks that make up the new LP burst out of the studio, each born out of unbridled, impulsive creativity. Previously unheard compositions and specially re-tooled dub plates have been assembled into a tracklist that shifts and moves like a classic Dubadub Musketeer live set. Each step of the process has been refined by years of practice : composition, effects, and the final mix. Throughout “On Our Way”, the brutal dub stepper, though still a favourite for sound system sessions, is noticeable by its absence. Instead, it’s the full weight of the crew’s reggae heritage that’s expressed in the mix. It's not just the depth and weight of each tune that strikes the listener, but also the spaces heard between the notes that grab and hold their attention.. The sense of a trip, whether musical, internal or geographic, is omnipresent throughout the LP, linking each track to those before and after. “Our Own Way” finds Stand High Patrol exploring as usual, yet also narrating their journey as they’ve rarely done before.

Maybe it was inevitable that Vilhelm Bromander and Fredrik Rasten would find each other. A symbiotic musical alliance of suggestive combinatory magic that stretches back to the interstitial two day space that separates their dates of birth and manifests here as the movement between ‘perfect’ or ‘just’ intonation and the ragged, psychoactive energy of the slippages from and towards that togetherness that render otherwise simple patterns or generally understood repetitions as wildly other and alive.

Astral Twins shares ‘twin’ works by each composer. The patiently unfolding real time retuning of Fredrik Rasten’s guitars on the a-side’s Sojourns and Vilhelm Bromander’s quickened steps and spry looping melodies on the flip’s Partially Dancing.

Both artists have history of going deep into the aesthetic and acoustic impact of intonation (how you think about what is ‘in tune’). Where their first LP (...for some reason that escapes us, 2019, Differ Records) shared a gorgeous set of sustained tone colour fields, this time they lean more explicitly into the folk music traditions of Scandinavia and further afield, whilst echoing the zoned minimalist atmosphere of Arthur Russell’s classic Instrumentals.

Recorded up close and in real time at Fylkingen’s soon-to-be-abandoned temporary location in Stockholm’s southern suburb of Bredäng, Astral Twins sings with the possibility that one plus one can equal more than two.

Fredrik Rasten:
 Sojourns explores the live retuning of guitar and double bass in a sequence of just intonation harmonies. A guitar ostinato runs throughout the piece where the retuning becomes an integral part of the composition. The slow pace reveals every detail in the transition from one harmonic arpeggio to another — how interfering waves emerge and disappear as the tonal interactions settle in electric clarity. The double bass shadows the guitar's process and comments with occasional pizzicato tones and register jumps, at times providing a low foundation for the sound and sometimes soaring together with the guitar. This is music that is deeply listening; experimental and at the same time humbly inviting many kinds of being with sound.

Vilhelm Bromander: 
As the title suggests, this song has a partially dancing character. The title also has a double meaning with reference to the partials and harmonics that dance together. The basic idea was to write music in just intonation that instead of being drone-based is reminiscent of a lightly dancing folk music, where the joyous feeling of just being in the music — “musicking" — is allowed to lead the way.

The double bass plays repeated overtone double stops in an open harmonic progression with subtle modulations that is inspired in equal parts by Steve Lacy's persistent repetition of phrases as east-asian khaen music. The guitars and mandolin have a freer role, with plucked retuned strings that enhance the bass's modulations and provide forward movement. The music invites to both melodic and spectral listening, suddenly halting so that other focal points can reveal themselves. For example, a chord sequence suddenly transitions to a more spectral part where Fredrik is playing a bowed guitar with a chain, several plucking guitars, voices, and pitch pipes. I wanted to make something ‘orchestral’ with just two people and no overdubs: a dance of overtones and open resonant strings, where we seamlessly take turns standing in the foreground.

Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.

Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.

Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.

Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.

By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.

Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.

A sprawling, meditative journey into inner and outer space, the new double album from Ivan The Tolerable sees Oli Heffernan retreat fully into the solo realm - crafting an expansive sonic world that feels both intimate and cosmic in scope. Recorded entirely alone and released via Riot Season, this latest work drifts away from structured forms and toward something more fluid, exploratory, and transcendent.
Drawing on the devotional atmospheres of early ambient pioneers and the hypnotic pulse of kosmische music, the album unfolds as a series of slowly shifting soundscapes—analog synths breathing in long, patient waves, tape loops dissolving into shimmering drones, and melodies that seem to emerge from nowhere before gently receding again. There are echoes of ritual, of vast landscapes, of time stretching and folding in on itself.
Across its two discs, Heffernan embraces a deeply immersive approach—less concerned with destination than with the act of drifting itself. It’s music that invites stillness and surrender, equally suited to deep listening or quiet disconnection from the noise of the everyday.
Unbound by genre yet rooted in a rich lineage of experimental sound, this is Ivan The Tolerable at his most introspective and transportive - a double album that doesn’t just ask for your attention, but your presence.