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On a remote gravel-covered spit of land on the east coast lie the abandoned buildings of a government facility for weapons testing and experiments with radar.
In the mid 1960s this site witnessed the construction of an over-the-horizon radar, a technological marvel bouncing signals off the ionosphere, built to covertly monitor the activities of other nations.
The reflectivity of the ionosphere is a function of frequency, time of day, time of year and of the solar cycle. In essence, a sympathy for the celestial was required to fully exploit this man made construction.
Plagued by noise that created false returns on the monitors, the intended performance was never achieved, and despite several investigations the system was shut down and eventually dismantled in the early 1970s.
The long dormant Cobra is now a nature reserve.

As humankind strives to create artificial intelligence what will faith, love, or morality look like to a nascent consciousness?
Will it be capable of understanding its creators who often hold logic and superstition within themselves?
In return how will humans comprehend its hallucinations?
And the Sun, a ball of hot plasma oblivious to our existence continually burns hydrogen until it runs out and swallows its three closest neighbours.

'Tense from the first note and decisively uncompromising ‘GHSTING’ is the debut collaboration by Polish artists Alex Freiheit and Aleksandra Słyż, an incredibly unique piece of work that mixes fiction, spoken word poetry, theatrical antics, dense synthesis, acoustic ensemble and dark landscapes all set within the backdrop of a sinister Eastern Europe hotel. The resulting sound is menacing, humorous, harmonious, tumultuous, and at times quietly erotic.

Alex Freiheit, a poet and vocalist, is widely recognized for her captivating work with the SIKSA duo. Over the past decade, she has delved into the realms of personal feminist storytelling, postmodern fairy tales, and queer legends, crafting unique and thought-provoking narratives. In this groundbreaking collaboration with talented composer Aleksandra Słyż, they are now delving into the herstory of lies and exaggerations, extracting the raw essence of these tales filled with stench, stains, secretions, and torn organs. Eyeless Freiheit haunts the hotel guests while dressed in a binder and holding a bottle filled with a corrosive substance. She shares compelling stories about the hidden activities and other secrets that unfold within the walls of hotels when no one is watching. Her gripping narrative is complemented by equally haunting and eerie music. Słyż divides the text into four chapters, skillfully intertwining synthetic and acoustic elements. She combines the sounds of synthesizers, woodwind and percussive instruments with vocals, creating a tense, dynamic soundscape. Freiheit’s voice possesses an earnest quality, where a frightening cadence suspiciously flips into a meditative cycle.

Together, Freiheit and Słyż have crafted a bold and suggestive story that feels like the mesmerizing soundtrack to a contemporary Eastern European horror film, captivating an essence that is hard to pinpoint but instantly recognizable. This is abstractly powerful music that pushes listeners into a kaleidoscopic spiral that channels ecstatic over loss.

There’s no direct English translation for the word “hiraeth”. In the Welsh language, it describes a form of longing for an intangible something, somewhere or someone that no longer exists. Sofie Birch and Antonina Nowacka draw on the concept to guide their second collaborative album, a suite of vulnerable, open-hearted improvisations and reflections that attempt to grasp an image of the past that’s chimeric, dissolving almost as soon as it materializes. The duo’s process follows the same distant beacon; unlike Languoria, their critically acclaimed debut, Hiraeth is, at heart, an acoustic record, informed by in-person improvisations with voices and string instruments that gesture to an era before computers, AI and DAWs. It’s just as lush, but Hiraeth is warmer and more muted than its predecessor.
Nowacka and Birch conceived the album in the wake of a slew of collaborative live concerts, spurred on by serendipitous improvisations and an interest in paring down their setup. Unsound arranged a retreat in Sokołowsko, an idyllic village nestled in the verdant hills of Southern Poland, close to the Czech border. Sokołowsko surrounds a large ruined sanatorium that’s rumored to have inspired Thomas Mann’s 1924 novel The Magic Mountain, and has long been a magnet for artists. The two took the opportunity to rethink their approach completely, arriving with just a guitar, a zither and a portable Nagra reel-to-reel machine. Recording directly to tape, they sketched out ideas with just their voices and instruments, reflecting their surroundings without being distracted or mediated by modern technology.
“We wanted to get away from screens as much as possible,” says Birch, “to bring to the world something vulnerable and honest. Without advance preparation, every day we went out into the open air, finding places to sit, during sunset or the midday sun. We discovered new tunings on our instruments, picked up a melody, and started the machine, playing over
and over till we got a take.” In the autumn, they met again in a Copenhagen studio, sparingly and carefully layering old synths and organs to add more depth without muddying the mix.
Both Nowacka and Birch sing throughout, their voices threading the acoustic instruments and tangling with each other, almost becoming one. But it’s the environment of Sokołowsko, “the birds and the light, even the wind playing against the harps,” that’s woven into the music’s lining. Affected by time spent meditating and in nature, as well as the fact that Birch was pregnant whilst recording, the album feels alive and remarkably present. Even the sound quality of the tape machine gives Hiraeth a tactile, organic quality, as Nowacka puts it, “like being in a warm bath.”

They still have the raw recordings from Sokołowsko on old reels, physical souvenirs of their time spent making music in a “habitat for intuitive songs, a little ecosystem, alive and spirited.” The outmoded gear and remote setting helped the duo disengage from the modern world for a few moments and imagine an existence that’s been lost to time and nominal progress. With digital technology receding into the background, Nowacka and Birch had space to make “intuitive connections with frequencies and people,” as Birch explains. Hiraeth is a testament not to nostalgia, but to the power of kinship.

When a Russian missile struck the ground not far from my studio in Kyiv, I vividly remember how my body reacted to the explosion, milliseconds before my mind did. That traumatic explosion reduced my essence to a primal state. There existed nothing but dread—the kind that, in scripture, accompanies the appearance of angels announcing, ’Be not afraid’.

The visions of Abbess, composer and mystic Hildegard von Bingen were preceded by bright, excruciating flashes of light. Modern medicine reduces them to cluster migraines, one symptom of which is the retinal aura, often accompanied by blurred vision and blind spots. Hildegard’s music can place great demands on the bodies of its performers, emphasizing uncomfortable intervals and the wide distance between the lowest and highest pitch. In comparison, Gregorian chant, the liturgical standard of the time, represents a tempered attempt to grasp God intellectually; indeed, Hildegard’s music was once described as a stick of dynamite thrown into a Gregorian chant.

This album is not a historically informed performance. Hildegard’s persona and music are a starting point—a distant mirror, akin to the shield of Perseus, used to reflect Medusa. It allows us to reflect, comprehend, externalise, and transcend traumatic wartime experience, reinstating the embodied origins of Christianity, which contained suffering but also offered the promise of transcendence. Andriana-Yaroslava Saienko emphasises this physical aspect of Hildegard’s music by drawing on authentic Ukrainian folk singing, a form that survived despite efforts by the Soviet occupation to replace it with a simulacrum that is naive, harmless, and devoid of contradictions—an attempt to ‘civilise’ the body by disembodying it.
The musical approach is also informed by my ongoing practice of reimagining early music in modular synthesis. I accompany Andriana-Yaroslava’s fiery singing with drones—extended sounds that also occurred in medieval music. The drones alternate with improvisations, one taking its starting point in medieval polyphony, the other working with the concept of the interchangeability of sound and light, referring both to Hildegard’s visions and the space in which we recorded the album: the Cistercian abbey of Sylvanès in Occitania, known for contemporary stained glass windows whose patterns reference the dispersion of acoustic waves inside the church.


The album features two compositions by Hildegard von Bingen: O Ignis Spiritus Paracliti (O Fire of the Spirit and Defender), dedicated to the Holy Spirit, and O Tu Suavissima Virga (O Sweetest Branch), in honour of the Virgin Mary. Both pieces are performed radically slower than usual, expanding in time and space. On vinyl, the compositions are designed to reflect one another and can be listened to in either order. In the digital edition, there is a bonus track titled Zelenaia Dubrovonka (The Green Oak Grove). Based on a Ukrainian folk song from the Polissia region, Andriana Yaroslava adapted the lyrics to reflect our contemporary reality. The green oak grove does not rustle with the wind; instead, it resonates with a different sound—perhaps the missile that struck near my Kyiv studio.

DJ DIE SOON is the apocalyptic alter-ego Daisuke Imamura, whose performances of masked malice have been a fixture in the Berlin underground for the past decade. His latest record My Brothel The Wind takes inspiration from Sun Ra at his most grotesque, conjuring a distorted phantasmagoria with an eclectic crew of compatriots like Rully Shabara, Sara Persico, and longtime collaborator Kiki Hitomi. Film director Hiroo Tanaka’s visual contributions in the album art, poster, and music video complete the album’s narrative, telling a story not of villainy but of phantom caprice in a dying world.
My Brothel The Wind shows DJ DIE SOON as an alchemist of distortion, transmuting the club-forward beats of his 2020 debut Kappa Slap and the seething horrorscapes of DIEMAJIN, his 2022 collaboration with Tokyo vocalist MA. Imamura’s obsession with noise stems from his upbringing in Tokyo, where he grew up hearing the deafening roar of trains every day. “The buildings were really tall, so the sounds reflected so much and it was so loud that you couldn’t even have a conversation on the phone. Hearing this noise every minute when living in this flat, it became a normal thing,” he says. While most would content themselves with avoiding loudness, DJ DIE SOON seeks to unpack its visceral potential.
DJ DIE SOON’s subterranean productions form a monstrous gestalt with the eclectic contributions of his network of co-conspirators. “Unfinished” and “Directions” are pulsating chimeras that highlight animalistic vocalizations from Hitomi and Shabara; Italian MC Franco Franco’s verses snake underneath the noisy onslaught. The tectonic textures of “Dandelion Crackers” are courtesy of multi-instrumentalist Laure Boer’s handmade stone synth. Sara Persico’s mangled vocables hang as fleshy reminders of human fragility on “SAQ4IME”; in the Hiroo Tanaka-directed music video, the track’s sonic uncanniness is made cinematic, with an ambient dread that references Hiroshi Teshigahara’s 1964 psychological thriller Woman in the Dunes.
While Sun Ra’s intergalactic Moog reached for the stars, DJ DIE SOON plunges into the depths of hell. “Everybody, Shake Your Body, We Chill At Party” feels like the sonic equivalent of a wax museum burning to the ground, rigid smiles melting into the fire. Rather than a vision of the future, My Brothel The Wind is a laugh-cry of despair in the face of a Hadean present. DJ DIE SOON confronts the world with a new hand-made mask, reborn in the ashes.

Skymark is back with a new album recorded in 2025 with his electric pianos and analog synthetisers. The vibes is very similar to his previous albums, a fusion of Spiritual Jazz, Soul, Brazilian music and Disco. As always influenced by his 70´s and 80´s favorite musicians but with a touch of contemporary soulful music. This is a very limited vinyl edition mastered by Jose Rico (Madrid) and pressed by Mad Vinyl music (Madrid).

George Faith comes together with the maestro Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry to present

• I’ve Got The Groove
• Midnight Hour
• Diana
• To Be A Lover

Scratch’s most soulful production during the Black Ark years.

2026 REPRESS

COEO are back on Toy Tonics! After uninterrupted touring around the globe, followed by a short creative break the guys come back with an even stronger sound. With the new EP they go more underground again. Its addressed to the clubs and night owls out there, who turn night into day and won't stop dancing!

The sound is based on classic house patterns and includes a lot of cool saxophones, big piano stabs & rhythmic piano solos. They even go tribal, use arpeggios and switch into breakbeat heaven. The four Originals are a great next step in the COEO evolution. The unique warm, catchy atmosphere of the tracks can create that special COEO euphoria which made them a lot of fans. From Moodymann to Disclosure, Mall Grab to Kenny Dope, the list is long.

It’s fantastic to see how popular they became over the last couple of years. The last COEO vinyl sold over 2500 copies and some of their tracks have millions of Spotify plays. It’s DJ FOOD. Pure bliss!

Two turntables and a microphone. There is a truth in the clarity of that simple coda, a truth that also belies the breadth of what is possible within its confines. Sometimes you gotta get reminded. I Guess U Had To Be There, the new album from NYC rapper ELUCID and veteran producer Sebb Bash, is one of those ones. So fresh it sounds like it was made tomorrow, but bet money you could put this on in ’89 and get heads bopping.
There are moments in music when masters of their craft cross paths at the height of their respective powers—records like Madvillainy, Liquid Swords, Dr. Octagonecologyst, and Hell Hath No Fury—where the result is more than the sum of its parts. ELUCID and Sebb Bash find themselves in this heady, seemingly effortless ephemera on I Guess U Had To Be There. Everything is both familiar and groundbreaking. The beats shift and flip under ELUCID’s feet but he tightropes it all, delivery nimble as a mountain goat, producer and rapper moving in perfect synchronization. Some shining stars make memorable appearances: billy woods, Breezly Brewin, Estee Nack, Shabaka Hutchings. But this is a two-man show, and the duo keep the spotlight where it belongs. I Guess U Had To Be There is a captivating, convention-defying listen and a high-water mark for two of the best artists in the genre.

Bright morning. To noon and into afternoon. To dusk and the inky night.

A major new exhibition of Mammo’s music spread across a triple disc, twelve track album. Call it a compendium or summary, a network of sparking neurons and painted landscapes in techno.

It folds in all the aspects of his other identities (self-)released over the last few years into an ultimate package ~ Heaven Smile, A∞x, CoA-A, E35, Puddlerunner; really any other project Fabiano has assumed an identity under. It all finds its way into the code and format of Lateral in some way or another.

Here the ground is given for the listener to hear just how much range and individual language there is in the music he’s been making. Fully immersive, inventive and detailed while also elegant and light of touch. It’s quite a package from one of the most talented techno producers right now, gesturing towards different genres and novel ideas in beautiful and intuitive fashion.

Break the pack down for your preferred disc of the day if you like. It’s designed with that modularity in mind. Disc one sparkles with vitality and a buoyancy. The middle disc has more drive and harder bites that you may want to amplify and split out to slot in a DJ bag. Sides five and six move into deeper, dreamier and more emotional techno in twilight. Each one is a little distinct and has its own orbit.

But give it your full attention on the turntable platter too. A listen from beginning to end. There’s lovely dynamics and interplays in the narrative, and its a remarkable new body of work to let your time dilate to.

Mastered and cut by Rashad Becker.

Art by Mammo.Works.

Guests is the home recording project of Jessica Higgins and Matthew Walkerdine. Vaguely named as such to avoid any problems with the poster if they pull out of a gig (which has only happened once, about a year and half before any songs were actually written to be fair) but also to capture a sense of reverse hospitality. That is, arriving at your door with a bottle of good wine (can’t turn up empty handed) or a fist full of savoury or sweet snacks (time of day dependant); oversharing at the afters (and then passing out on your couch); reading to your toddler while you make their lunch or put everything back where it was meant to go (only to get torn apart again). So, something about what happens when private worlds meet each other, making or having been made a space for. But at times, it’s a different kind of intimacy, a temporal or material one, like the feeling of crisp fresh sheets, and abundant and soft, body-part appropriate towels in a hotel in a city you’ve been to before and love to go back to.

Their debut record, “I wish I was special”, was variously described as “a collage of concrète experiments and outerzone pop gestures, music that sounds as if it’s been written from the depths of a dream”; “music for people who love music but also hate it too”; “something like chasing ghosts or befriending a wild animal”; “pulling apart nervous sensations with haphazard ease and requisite humour”; and “a melody of refusal, of being all-in (…) finding the exact right WRONG sound to express the discontent”. Common Domestic Bird continues in this vein, layering synthesiser, keyboards and samples over rudimentary drum rhythms and field recordings, which are in turn sung or spoken with to create nine new songs.

Written and recorded between autumn 2024 and summer 2025 in Reading, Berkshire, the music has matured since its last outing, in a way, leaning less into collage and more toward structured composition and melodic depth, yet retains a healthy dose of indeterminacy and off-kilter rhythms for the forever-amateur. The songs on Common Domestic Bird hint at some “about”-ness through a series of discrete vignettes which sound a bit like architecture or end of year lists, gossip or over-thinking subjectivity, like disappearances and impressions, the support structure of the spine, letters and signs offs, things you could really do without and where they should go, hoping you’ll see something that isn’t there, pretences and performance. At times they feel kind of funny, others kind of sad or a bit angry and annoyed, a bit like you really.

Music To Watch Seeds Grow By continues its second season with Seoul-based left of centre ambient duo Salamanda - Uman Therma (Sala) and Yetsuby (Manda) - and their meditation on the inner life of a basil plant. Seeds 008 is an ambient composition born from quiet domestic observation: a single basil on a windowsill, its days shaped by light, warmth, and the slow passage of time.

The album moves through a full day in the plant's life opening with ‘introduce my atom which is my favorite one’, an act of quiet self-declaration in morning light, before settling into the unhurried rhythmic pulse of ‘to to ki toki tok’- the drip of water, the tick of a clock, the slow beat of photosynthesis. ‘allez, pousse!’ - one of the standouts in this journey - carries the basil's gentle will to grow, to push, to tilt toward the sun, while ‘hungry snail’ captures a moment of creaturely encounter on the glass: an uninvited visitor, moving slowly, wanting. As the afternoon deepens, 'Basil's Ritual' traces the daily ceremony of light and warmth, repeated with calm devotion from root to leaf. Night falls across 'Basil's Dream', and in the stillness something like sleep arrives - the plant resting, imagining tomorrow's sun. The album closes with ‘the blue wine’, a final mysterious reverie in which the basil seems to contemplate its own fate, somewhere between acceptance and wonder.

Kēpa is built whole, even if life has broken a few bones along the way.

Back when he was a pro skater, he gave everything to the board. Today, he gives that same intensity to the stage, delivering hypnotic cine-concerts where motion, sound, and image blur into one. The only falls left now are the ringing final chords of his guitar — not just an instrument, but an extension of his body.

Fingerpicking is his native tongue. So much so that Kēpa no longer sings — he lets the strings speak. Percussive, alive, essential. This music isn’t about performance, it’s about living: a personal quest, a way to reach others by first going inward. Moving against the current without fighting the wind. Finding breath, essence, and remembering we’re all drifting on a spinning planet, surrounded by forces bigger than us.

It’s easier to look away. Easier to follow noise, fear, or false prophets. Harder — and braver — to truly connect.

Released in late 2025, Hotline Service opened the door, offering a wide-open, spiritual escape. With SOUL WASH SERVICES— produced by Timber Timbre — Kēpa goes further. Warmer, deeper, more focused. The album feels like sunlight on asphalt, a long drive with the windows down, time slowing just enough to let something real surface.

A kindred spirit to Hermanos Gutiérrez, Kēpa plays the role of a modern, pagan preacher — guiding us through a dusty, golden road movie that unfolds entirely inside the listener. His music doesn’t shout; it cleans.

Kēpa does it all: writes, plays, films, edits, mixes. Music becomes image, image becomes music. Nothing is separate, on record or on stage. There’s no excess, no showboating — just an open invitation to slow down, go deeper, aim higher.

Tracks like Solarium and Paradisiac reach the peaks with minimal gear: five strings, a few picks, and total control of touch and space. Listening to Kēpa feels like checking in with yourself — a quiet inner trip shaped by sounds from every corner of the world. Blues, not to feel them, but to leave them behind.

After years devoted to picking, his playing has become something sacred.

And if you let it, it carries you with it.

Stevie Cox and Ansboy: two powerhouses of the Glaswegian club scene join forces for their collaborative debut EP on Rhythm Section INTL- ‘Twice Like Rice’. It’s a weighty four-track EP designed for the dancefloor, taking in myriad influences from dub techno, breaks, trance and good old fashioned house music. The Ep is full of deep, pulsating rhythms, lush textures and emotive peaks - all road tested in Stevie’s Iconic home turf: Sub Club.

Stevie Cox has long been a name long ruminating on everyone's lips, as a resident DJ of the iconic ‘Sub Club’ with an ever-growing tour schedule and back catalogue of releases via the likes of Klasse Wrecks and Optimo. Whilst the name Ansboy may be new to some, it is a fresh alias for the grammy nominated producer and mixdown engineer Robert Etherson who has long been a staple in the Scottish scene with an international touring repertoire under his belt.

The two friends met in their hometown of Glasgow and began their musical journey together last year after Robert taught Stevie how to do mixdowns. The pair clicked effortlessly, quickly discovering they shared the same passion for emotive, deep and progressive dance music. Their first track together - which took shape in the form of ‘Drift’ - a high-energy synth led anthem, came out with a special selection of tracks curated by Bradley Zero for his exclusive SHOUTS Summer sampler in 2025.

For the Twice Like Rice EP, their work evokes all corners of the dancefloor, kicking things off with ‘GC’ - a peak time breaks-infused trancey-heater - a master class in building dancefloor tension which gives way into a searing crescendo. Things spin towards a darker percussive focus on the more intense ‘Twice Like Rice’.

On the b-side things return to blissful euphoria with ‘Virgil’ - a warm up dub-techno ballad, before the emotional release of ‘Subculture closure’ inspired ‘Carter21’.