Buscar:feed the machine

The latest drop on Art-E-Fax welcomes back deep cover braindance tinkerer Briain with a tape of warm and gritty electronica done the right way.

We last coaxed Barry O’Brien away from his day job as sound tech at beloved Berlin haunts Ohm and Tresor for a 12” back in 2019, and now he’s graced us with 11 slices of tweaked and freaked machine funk that should appeal to anyone who savours the maverick electro crossover between Rephlex and Drexciya.

The synth lines crunch and squirm and the beats stutter and rasp as Briain rolls out one wonkily perfect jam after another. In the intricate detail and movement that drives each track forwards you can sense the insular focus that comes with the best shut-in electronica. ‘Fist Fight Or Hug’ toys with sliced up breaks while ‘The Precipitous Descent Of Dignity’ deals in dystopian electro of the highest calibre. ‘Beal Bocht’; puts the drums to one side for a gloriously dislocated trip through FM synthesis and broken delay feedback and ‘Cognitive Dissonance’ revels in twitchy micro perc and delicate keys.

It’s a full-bodied album to sink your teeth into, and while it proudly carries the torch from certain legendary electronica forebears, it’s also delivered with all the charm and personality required to make for a future classic in the braindance canon.

LINER NOTES BY BOOM BASS
A FIRST ALBUM AFTER SIGNING THE CONTRACT TO RELEASE OUR DEBUT ALBUM, WE WERE SUDDENLY INUNDATED WITH AN OVERWHELMING NUMBER OF TASKS.

TOWARD THE END OF THE 20TH CENTURY,MUSIC PRODUCTION WAS STILL A HEAVILY INDUSTRIAL PROCESS. FACTORIES MANUFACTURED CDS, VINYL RECORDS, AND EVEN AUDIO CASSETTES, WHICH WERE THEN SHIPPED BY TRUCK TO WAREHOUSES BELONGING TO VARIOUS FRENCH MAJOR LABELS. DEDICATED TEAMS BRAINSTOR-MED IDEAS, DEVISED STRATEGIES, AND ORCHESTRATED PLANS TO DISTRIBUTE THESE RECORDS TO SPECIALIZED STORES. AT THE TIME, RADIO, TELEVISION, AND THE PRESS HELD THE KEYS TO SUCCESS.

WITHOUT THEIR SUPPORT, REACHING THE GENERAL PUBLIC, OR EVEN A NICHEA UDIENCE, WAS NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE.OUR FIRST ALBUM AS CASSIUS, SLATED FOR RELEASE IN JANUARY 1999, SPARKED GENUINE EXCITEMENT WITHIN THE VIRGIN RECORDS TEAM. AS A FORMER ARTISTIC DIRECTOR, I KNEW THIS LEVEL OF ENTHUSIASM WAS RARE. FOR PHILIPPE AND ME, STEPPING INTO THE SPOTLIGHT WAS A COMPLETELY NEW EXPERIENCE.

AFTER YEARS OF WORKING BEHIND THE SCENES FOR OTHERS,FOCUSED AND IMMERSED IN THE STUDIO, WE WERE NOW AT THE FOREFRONT, ENTIRELY INCONTROL. THIS SHIFT BROUGHT A WHIRLWIND OF EMOTIONS: AMBITION FUELED OUR FEARS,AND CREATIVE CHAOS OFTEN BLURRED OUR JUDGMENT ABOUT WHEN TO STOP REFINING OURWORK.NAVIGATING DECISIONS AS A DUO, WE QUICKLY DISCOVERED THE COMPLEXITIES OF PARTNERSHIP AND PRODUCTION. WITHOUT MANAGEMENT, WHOSE CRITICAL ROLE IS OFTEN TO SHIELD ARTISTS FROM THEIR OWN TENDENCIES, WE OCCASIONALLY STRUGGLED TO MAKE THE RIGHT CHOICES.

YET, EXCITEMENT AND SHEER JOY ULTIMATELY PREVAILED, AND WE THREW OURSELVES WHOLE HEARTEDLY INTO THE ADVENTURE. AS POSITIVE FEEDBACK ROLLED IN FROM SUBSIDIARIES, MARKETING BUDGETS EXPANDED, AND THE ALBUM'S RELEASE STRATEGY SKYROCKETED TO NEW HEIGHTS.

DAFT PUNK'S GROUNDBREAKING ALBUM HOMEWORK HAD JUST OPENED THE DOOR FOR FRENCH ELECTRONIC MUSIC TO REACH GLOBAL AUDIENCES. FOR ARTISTS ROOTED IN DJ CULTURE,THIS WAS A TURNING POINT. FRENCH ACTS WERE FINALLY BEING INVITED TO PLAY AT BURGEONING FESTIVALS AND ICONIC CLUBS. THE BRITISH AUDIENCE WAS THE FIRST TO EMBRACE US, AND WEEKEND AFTER WEEKEND, WE TOURED THE UK.

INSPIRED BY THOSE NIGHTS BEHIND THE DECKS, WE SUGGESTED RELEASING A VINYL FEATURING EXTENDED VERSIONS OF TRACKS FROM 1999. DESIGNED AS A PROMOTIONAL DJ TOOL, IT CELEBRATED EXPANSIVE, LONG-FORM TRACKS REMINISCENT OF THE ONES WE LOVED TO PLAY, AN HOMAGE TO OUR EARLY EXPERIMENTS WITH NDLESS LOOPS, LIKE DINAPOLY FROM 1996.

THE VINYL WAS PRESSED IN AN EXTREMELY PROMO LIMITED SERIES, ECHOING OUR EARLY MAXI-SINGLES AND THE RARE RECORDS WE USED TO HUNT FOR AS COLLECTORS. FOR FANS, IT WAS A CHANCE TO OWN SOMETHING TRULY UNIQUE; FOR US, IT WAS A FINAL OPPORTUNITY TO RE-EXPLORE THEA LBUM'S MUSIC.PRODUCED IN THE STYLE OF LA FUNK MOB'S EP, WITH THE TWO OF US IN A RECORDING BOOTH SURROUNDED BY FLOPPY-DISK MACHINES AND TWO OR THREE SYNTHS, THE ALBUM'S SONGS WERE STRUCTURED AND MIXED DIRECTLY IN STEREO ON A DAT (DIGITAL AUDIO TAPE).

MOST TRACKS, ORIGINALLY VERY LONG, WERE EDITED INTO A COHERENT, HOUR-LONG LISTENING EXPERIENCE. THE DJ TOOL WAS ASSEMBLED FROM THOSE ORIGINAL MIXES, AS A FINAL, FREE WHEELING VARIATION OF OUR THREE WEEKS OF FUN IN THE STUDIO.HOLDING THAT VINYL TODAY BRINGS BACK VIVID MEMORIES OF THOSE EARLY TRAVELS, THE NIGHTCLUBS AT THE CUSP OF TRANSFORMATION, THE CROWDS GETTING YOUNGER AT NEW PARTIES, AND THE VINYL RECORDS THAT WERE JUST STARTING TO FADE FROM DJ BOOTHS.

I ALSO RECALL BEING 32 YEARS OLD, NAVIGATING THIS EVOLVING WORLD. NOW, AS I PREPARE FOR THE UPCOMING CASSIUS CLUB TOUR, I'M STRUCK BY HOW CLOSELY IT MIRRORS THE ERA OF THE DJ TOOL RELEASE. TWENTY-FIVE YEARS LATER, I FEEL INCREDIBLY FORTUNATE TO STILL BE DOING THIS.

IN THE STUDIO, PHILIPPE ONCE SHOUTED, "CASSIUS IN THE HOUSE !" INTO MY EAR. TODAY, I FEEL LIKE TELLING HIM, "I'M GOING BACK TO OUR ROOTS."BOOMBASS.

'199 DJ TOOL", 2025 UNRELEASED ALBUM BY CASSIUS FEATURING 8 EXCLUSIVE EXTENDED VERSIONS OF THE MOST ICONIC TRACKS FROM THE ALBUM 1999 AND THIS EXCLUSIVE SHORT STORY BY BOOMBASS.

"“We can still hold the line of beauty, form, and beat. No small accomplishment in a world as challenging as this one... hard times require furious dancing. Each of us is proof” Alice Walker, Hard Times Require Furious Dancing

Snapped Ankles have given up trying to make sense of it all. The forest only offers so much protection. Feeding on a diet of fractured narratives, meme culture, viral moments and the very worst of human impulses weighs heavy. The woodwose hold up a mirror to the absurdity of modern life once again. The only sane response is to dance. Make your way to the clearing, gather around the megalith of speakers, drum machines, amps and synthesisers and dance like there’s no tomorrow.

Hard Times Furious Dancing is an invitation to all those lost in the unrelenting noise of the present, to leave it all behind and come together in the forest. Driven by the primitive thrust of their single-oscillator ‘log’ synths, high and low culture collide in a surreal, free flowing narrative - but the rhythm is universal. This is easily the closest Snapped Ankles have come to capturing their rapturous live energy in the studio.

The sound of Hard Times Furious Dancing evolved at Snapped Ankles’ South London ‘Forest Rayve’ club nights in 2024 in response to that age-old primal urge to bring people together and make them move. It’s the first time the woodwose have road tested new material to this extent before committing it to tape since debut album Come Play The Trees, and in doing so have harnessed that feral energy once again. This surreal human/woodwose connection is the very best release from an algorithm that knows you better than you know yourself. Dance it all loose."

Cross Record's new album, Crush Me, is steeped in the pressures and wonders of existence—a profound statement, especially coming from artist and death doula Emily Cross. A two-and-a-half-year gestation period offered challenges, disappointments, and joys reflected in the cramped space of the album, which explores how we handle the weights we carry. Emily Cross had held hundreds of Living Funerals and was as many episodes deep into her podcast, What I’m Looking At. She was five years into serving clients as a death doula and fresh off a tour with Loma, her band with Jonathan Meiburg (Shearwater) and Dan Duszynski, when she began work on her fourth album. After moving from Austin, TX to Dorset, UK, she established the Steady Waves Center for Contemplation (named after a track from her second record, Wabi-Sabi ), where she hosted Living Funerals, met clients, scheduled mindful tea sessions, and showcased experimental music nights. All the while, she was scribbling down song ideas. Cross’s Tascam four-track demos finally reached readiness, and she sent them to an interested major independent label. She was encouraged to push her imagination to the limits of what a record could be. So, unlike her usual process of recording as inexpensively as possible, she prepared a two-week recording session in Germany with a group of skilled musicians from around the world. True to her previous work, Cross left plenty of room in her demos for experimentation, collaboration, chance, improvisation, and complete obliteration, then resurrection when necessary. Comfort and traditional structure were eschewed in favor of unaccountable magic, prayers whispered into The Void. Cross is comfortable with the chaotic and unpredictable, a perspective demanded by her work and writing style. The Berlin Airbnb was packed with people, instruments and luggage. During a ride down in a tiny elevator to the studio, Cross realized how central the sense of being crushed was to the album. “I thought of it later and it dawned on me that ‘Crush Me’ perfectly embodied the record,” says Cross. Yes, the weight of a body laying limply atop yours, or the tight squeeze of a hug, can be pleasant. Go too far, and you’re in the hands of a cruel, adolescent god. Upon leaving Germany, the record was unfinished, and without a roadmap. As passages were recorded as isolated parts, Cross and musician Marcin Sulewski collaborated, facing a haphazard brick pile, waiting to be assembled. Work dipped in and out of view like a buoy bobbing in a violent sea over many months. During that time, the aforementioned interested label went radio silent, suddenly not seeming so sure of a thing. Collaborators disappeared, continuing the themes of abandonment, surrender, and disarray that followed the project. Cross physically felt her entire body go numb: In a twist of fate, the record was rescued by long-time friend and supporter Ben Goldberg at Ba Da Bing Records who was eager to help realize the project. Cross worked for months on the album, all the while nursing a pregnancy and continuing her full-time funeral work. The last minute participation of Seth Manchester of Machines with Magnets, who mixed and mastered, was an essential liferaft. He gave true final form to the abstracted songs. Crush Me has the effect of a spell being cast, with songs balancing heaviness and levity. Vocals, guitars, and keyboards float above, as drums and upright bass (often bowed) lurch beneath. On “Rolling Backwards” percussion wanders about while feedback squeals and persists in the distance. “Dorset Area Of Natural Beauty” starts with a thick, unhinged church organ progression punctuated by the disquieting sounds of laughter reaching the point of hysteria. “God Fax” is a slow-moving panic attack, with shallow breaths in and out framing a guttural cacophony like a wooden freighter encountering increasingly turbulent waters and vocals struck emotionless by autotune. The album ends with “Twisted Up Fence,” a reflection on life from outside the wall--wistful, warm, and comforting. Cross, likely with a smile on her face, sings: “You say it’s an endless abyss” “And I say the abyss is the best”

“Machine Against Rage” is the first release on OAOE - a new experimental music series on Wodawater.

Real and cloned voice becomes intertwined with physical space forming a call and response chain of a spatial imaginary emerging from a certain passage from Philip K. Dick. The machine never stops and enfolds the listener with affective feedback tones, subtle rhythms, disjointed impacts and noise. The record is result of a collaboration between the label’s founder Miko Szatko, also known as the techno producer and performer TRSSX and co-founder of EXIT Glasgow, and Verena Lercher, a Berlin-based media artist and resident at spæs - lab for spatial aesthetics in sound in Berlin. All recorded at Funkhaus Berlin between 2023-24, the six compositions originate from various feedback spatialisations and turntable movements amplified by an IKO, the 20-membrane speaker-instrument developed by spæs lab’s co-founder Gerriet Krishna Sharma and the IEM in Graz.

Powerful works of art have traditionally sprung from some source deep within an artist and, if they strike the right tone, resonate with an audience to leave a lasting mark. But what if that equation were reversed: what if an artist were to draw their inspiration from deep within their audience, and use that to reflect those ideas, emotions, hopes, fears, pains and aspirations back to us?

Over a two year journey, audio-visual artist and electronic innovator Max Cooper has inverted the creative process by collecting hundreds of anonymous quotes, posing deep but open questions such as "What would you like to express which you cannot in everyday life?" and "What is it like to exist inside your head?"

The goal: to understand what it is truly like to be human right now. The result: his new album On Being, to be released in February 2025 with the first single "Sun In A Box" coming this September 4th.

With On Being, Cooper aimed to probe under the synthetic surface of social media to "create a snapshot of our minds these days," as he puts it by asking people to share anonymously what they dare not ever say publicly. The result is an emotionally raw and shockingly honest kaleidoscope of confessions, ranging from suicide contemplations to miserable marriages to simple pure loneliness, contrasting with hundreds of anonymous confessions of love and longing.

"I was interested in the way I interact with people for my writing process, which usually involves a one-way communication of feelings and ideas that I later find out whether they resonate with others or not," says Cooper.

"With this I could start instead with people's thoughts and feelings, what resonates for them, and make my own interpretations of those musically and visually, and then send those back out to everyone. It's more of a collaborative approach to making an album, and more intense."

Grief, hope, regret, joy, hurt and love form the basis for each track, taking Cooper's ever-evolving creative process in a completely new direction - with profoundly intense results.

"Rendering the experience of being is at the core of what I do musically - but I hadn't realised the impact that other people's words on being would have on me until I started reading the database of thoughts," he says.

"It was like finding a secret window into everyone's minds, and discovering amongst the chaos, pleasure and pain, the experiences that we all share at different times of our lives, and overwhelming emotions and connections that call out to be explored."

Despite what we see in the maelstrom of rage in the echo chambers of society ‘On Being’ reveals that humans still have an innate need to trust one another and express communal generosity - more easily done from the safety of an anonymous portal.

"The quotes carried so much weight for me - I interpreted them with my usual musical tools, but as you can hear in the music, everything got more extreme as I dove into the depths of what everyone had to say later in the record," says Cooper.

The result is a unique work of art that demonstrates unequivocally not only the power of using music without words to express emotions, but the power of words to express what seemed to be inexpressible.

On Being will continue to evolve as Cooper gathers more confessions to feed into this ecosystem of emotions and to create a new range of art projects and other accompanying works which hopefully will speak truthfully to humanity today - and of who we are and who we can become.

Like a passenger riding shotgun on a road trip, The Villagers Companion offers its own unique perspective and story to tell. Featuring tracks recorded alongside last year’s acclaimed villagers, TVC captures the miles between the start and destination—the faded gas station pit stops, the plastic saint statue stuck to the dashboard for safe travels or luck. It embodies the essence of the journey without the burden of driving—the experience of the ride itself.

The album takes us through the heart of Califone’s magic: reverb-drenched piano chords, electronic whirs, and layers of experimental noise. Guided by Tim Rutili’s abstract, fragmented lyrics—both strange and familiar—delivered through his warm, well-worn vocals, it creates an experience as evocative as it is haunting. Often passing through what seem to be the spaces between radio frequencies, the stations never meant to be heard. Crackles of static, feedback loops, and fleeting signals bloom into meditative moments, with each sound given space to breathe, unravel, and shimmer in slow decay. The result resonates deeply, transforming what might be noise into something profound, hypnotic, and totally immersive.

As with villagers, Rutili and company continue to explore what it means to get lost while surrounded by modern technology. Like a ghost in a machine or a whispered prayer stuck in a telephone line, Califone adds soul—be it damned or saved. And they do so with the kind of transformative magic granted perhaps only to artists a quarter of a century into their craft. The kind that turns a photograph into a tableau, or any darkened space with a microphone into a makeshift confessional. A song into a hymn, and a hymn into a soundtrack to a life.

Like a passenger riding shotgun on a road trip, The Villagers Companion offers its own unique perspective and story to tell. Featuring tracks recorded alongside last year’s acclaimed villagers, TVC captures the miles between the start and destination—the faded gas station pit stops, the plastic saint statue stuck to the dashboard for safe travels or luck. It embodies the essence of the journey without the burden of driving—the experience of the ride itself.

The album takes us through the heart of Califone’s magic: reverb-drenched piano chords, electronic whirs, and layers of experimental noise. Guided by Tim Rutili’s abstract, fragmented lyrics—both strange and familiar—delivered through his warm, well-worn vocals, it creates an experience as evocative as it is haunting. Often passing through what seem to be the spaces between radio frequencies, the stations never meant to be heard. Crackles of static, feedback loops, and fleeting signals bloom into meditative moments, with each sound given space to breathe, unravel, and shimmer in slow decay. The result resonates deeply, transforming what might be noise into something profound, hypnotic, and totally immersive.

As with villagers, Rutili and company continue to explore what it means to get lost while surrounded by modern technology. Like a ghost in a machine or a whispered prayer stuck in a telephone line, Califone adds soul—be it damned or saved. And they do so with the kind of transformative magic granted perhaps only to artists a quarter of a century into their craft. The kind that turns a photograph into a tableau, or any darkened space with a microphone into a makeshift confessional. A song into a hymn, and a hymn into a soundtrack to a life.

. The idea for the band was originally conceived by singer-guitarist Joe Woodward whilst writing and recording songs in his kitchen on a 4-track recorder, and over time eventually found help from like-minded friends, Elliot Roberts and Cam Wheeler. The three of them would spend their nights experimenting with cassette recording with the admirable if not challenging aim to recreate the symphonic sounds of Phil Spector on a DIY budget. With growing confidence and having amassed a small catalogue of songs, a few aborted attempts were made to get a live band together before they found help from a second guitarist, Eli Allison, who had recently relocated from Cornwall. As necessity would dictate, the first shows as a quartet made use of a drum machine, but the ideal formation for the band wasn’t truly complete until meeting Nia Abraham, whose live drumming would add a more physical quality to the band’s sound. At the beginning of 2024, they began working more purposefully towards an end goal with the writing and recording of the five-song Nowhere Near Today EP. Though retaining some of their home recording practices, they also made use of a studio facility based in a disused shopping centre basement that was made available through SHIFT, a local artist collective connected to the band. The acquisition of an 8-track Tascam 488MKII, along with the natural reverb of SHIFT’s empty concrete space allowed for further opportunity to experiment with both cassette recording techniques and their still developing live sound, the two environments permitting an all-too-rare creative freedom. The process was transformative for the group, their Spector-inspired ambitions now taking on a more defined shape that skirted around the edges of psych, noise-rock and industrial-pop in a way that increasingly became their own. For a debut EP, the results are impressively realised, a confluence of expansive tremolo guitars, a deliberately primordial rhythm section and a contrasting vulnerable vocal performance that’s both melodic and bracing. It’s a record born both of private experimentation and public performance, who they are on stage and what they express on record informing the other but still distinctly each their own thing, shifting then dovetailing like the waves of feedback that wash through Nowhere Near Today. Still a young band, it’s tomorrow they feel a lot closer to.

Crawling up from the cold underground in Toronto, Canada, Some Exercise delivers their debut record - Web Peril.
Uncompromising and unsettling, the project's inaugural full-length is a noisy yet rhythmic hybrid of classic New Wave tropes and forward-reaching experimentalism. It's a part-post punk, part-industrial analysis of our post-internet age.
Cybernetic beats pulsate beneath jagged and occasionally dissonant guitar licks - recalling the same abstract danceability as underground legends like SPK and Suburban Lawns. Evocative vocals are joined by EBM-style synthesizers, molasses-thick bass, and clanking drum machines.
In a contemporary music landscape where capitalist algorithms promise fame and fortune, Web Peril sinks its teeth the hand that feeds, offering this cautionary tale - the onus is yours. Online is offline. Consume what consumes you.

Building on the promise of his standout Vacuum EP, Brendon Moeller returns to Samurai Music to dial his expert dub techno up to 170 for a full-length trip. Moeller is celebrated as a versatile operator applying cavernous sound design and decades-deep machine soul to a broad sweep of tempos and styles, and his pivot to D&B territory is as natural as it is original. It's a perfect fit on Samurai, where palettes, pressure and rhythms are continually yielding fresh results in this highly fertile zone of modern club music.

It's no secret Moeller is a prolific producer, and following his initial connection with Samurai he offered up a vast folder of tracks created in this latest furrow of his production. The label has since sifted through and puzzled out a sonic narrative, first realised on the Vacuum EP in June 2024 and now extended with Further. For anyone keyed into the deep, techno-informed innovations taking place at 170, there is a logical connection to Moeller's take on the sound, but at the same time these tracks stand apart from anything else out there right now. In the particular textures, the unfolding arrangements and monolithic reverbs Moeller threads together with hypnotic poise, his accomplished legacy shines through.

Whether it's the snarl of a delay feedback pushed a little further, a soaring synth swell sculpted into artful noise or a particular shuffle applied to a particular drum rack, Moeller's tracks unfold with a masterful poise, hitting the sweet spot between club-spirited physicality for the deepest of dance floors and introspective headphone trips. Teeming with detail, swathed in soul and engineered to perfection, the inspiration driving Moeller is palpable across the LP, and it's resulted in some of his finest work in a career studded with highlights.

Limited edition pressing - 50 copies come with one page insert. Download code included.

The album Sonic Mystics for Poems (of Life and Death of a Phoenix) by Andrea Burelli is a work that masterfully blends traditional musical languages with the formal and conceptual sensibilities of contemporary music. It offers a profound reflection on the life-death-life cycle, centered on poetic texts that oscillate between human-sensitive experience and the mythical journey of a phoenix, a metaphor of this circular and infinite reality.

The work, which includes a collaboration with musicians from the renowned Solistenensemble Kaleidoskop, stands out for its clear influence from classical Western music and modal traditions, as well as experimental electronics. Composed for voices, strings, synthesizers, and drum machines, this music features a minimalist tapestry of polyphonies, enhanced by sophisticated electronic elements and a diverse array of rhythmic articulations.

Field Notes describes Andrea Burelli as a versatile artist capable of embodying a multitude of roles, from poet to composer, musician, and singer, emphasizing how her work reflects this versatility by ¨combining elements of art song, contemporary music, pop, and electronic sounds.¨ According to Groove Magazine, this LP evokes neoclassical chamber music and an imagined Italian folklore, aligning with contemporary explorations of modern vocal abstractions, similar to the work of artists like Marina Herlop, stating that: “This is how the new and the good emerge.”

Furthermore, the music has received positive feedback from internationally acclaimed artists such as Rashad Becker, who, in addition to being the mastering engineer of the project, describes it as "pure and honest"; James Young of Darkstar calls it "bold and innovative"; while Eartheater (PAN), Rabih Beaini, and Gigi Masin have praised it as "beautiful."

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.

The Stripp sind eine energiegeladene Rock'n'Roll-Maschine aus der Underground-Rockszene Melbournes. Angeführt wird die Band von Bek Taylor, die als perfekte Mischung von Joan Jett und Lemmy Kilmister beschrieben werden kann. Die fesselnden Live-Shows und ausgedehnten Tourneen haben ihnen den Ruf als eine der besten, energiegeladenen Rock'n'Roll-Bands Australiens eingebracht. The Stripp gingen 2022 erneut ins Studio und veröffentlichten ihr Debütalbum ,Ain't no crime to Rock ' Roll", das der Band sofort in ganz Australien und international weitere Aufmerksamkeit verschaffte. 2024 bringt The Stripp ihr Debütalbum endlich nach Europa, welches zwei zusätzliche Titel ,Bad News" und ,Rock Machine" enthält. Auf nur 250 Exemplare limitiert!

This release documents the coming together of two fallible musical instrument systems and their creator-operators. In June 2023, Graham Dunning's Mechanical Techno and Sam Underwood's Acoustic Modular System took a train journey to Galerie Paradise in Nantes, France. Following a period of exploration, points of cohesion, jeopardy and happenstance were exploited to create these nine unruly pieces that appeared initially on the ultra-limited vinyl release on the gallery’s record label. Now they celebrate a new pressing of Beaux Timbres on Accidental.

Using innovative methods, they create abstract, rhythmical and textural experimental soundscapes. Graham uses an extended turntable: a regular DJ turntable with numerous sensors, modified vinyl records and synthesizers creating irregular rhythmic patterns. Sam presents his Acoustic Modular System: a device for creating acoustic sounds with bellows, feedback and chaotic sequencers.

Feeding The Machine is the long-awaited 3rd studio album by semi-free jazz duo Binker and Moses. The album yet again cements Binker and Moses' status as being at the vanguard of London's jazz and jazz-adjacent music scene. With honorary band member Max Luthert on tape loops and electronics, Feeding The Machine crosses into ambient, minimalism and experimental electronic music territories, whilst also nodding to the duo's roots in riff-heavy free jazz.

After Prince Istari finished the Dub Encounter with Erik Satie, he
immediately set to work on expelling the evil curse of artificial intelligence. While the encounter with Satie was guided by the original
compositions, this album delves deeper into dub science.

The opening track is "Curse Of Machine Learning," a grinding cumbia dub track that sucks you into the curse of machine learning. It's followed by "Artificial Neural Network," arguably the album's most nerve-wracking track, with wild snare rolls colliding with offbeat echoed riddim sections. "Large Language Models" offers a more relaxed, arabesque one-drop riddim with speech synthesis vocals. "Fake Image" closes the first side with a full trombone solo contributed by Eugene Rosebud.

Side B starts with the one-drop killer tune "Haunted By Delusion,"
featuring an organ solo by Prince Istari. Drum and bass in your face.
"Evil Forces," on the other hand, is a fusion of jazz and dub; after the
brass section breakdown, it rolls into a crazy synth solo. Then next „I
Want Your Data" pulls your data into the AI's guts with a vibraphone.
This is maybe the ambitious tune on the record speaking of chord
progressions. The final track sees Eugene Rosebud return with a double trombone solo in "Transhuman Feedback Rock" assisted by a saz cooling the blues pattern with a hookline. Here we have beautifull springreverb and harmonizer dub effects on the snare twirrling around the trombone solos.

All tunes composed, arranged, conducted and engineered by Prince Istari and played by his house band The Virtualistics. Trombone Solos by Eugene Rosebud. Packaged in a nice cover drawn by Markus Schäfer and frequency shift and cut by LXC.

Riding a wave of critical praise and positive feedback for his most recent Emperor Machine album, the fabulous Island Boogie, Andrew Meecham returns with a typically wild and dancefloor-focused set of dubs, ‘versions’ and remixes.

According to Meecham, Island Boogie is his most personal set to date – a full-length excursion that not only delivers perfectly formed expressions of his dub-tinged, off-kilter synth-boogie sound, but also tracks that draw deeply on his earliest influences and long-held musical expressions.

It’s fitting, then, that this remix EP begins with his own sparse, stripped-back ‘version’ rework of ‘S-S-S-Single Bed’, a fine cover of the mid-80s Fox single featuring the vocals of Michelle Bee. Meecham’s dub-wise revision is a skeletal and driving affair, with snippets of echoing guitar, colourful synths and Bee’s distinctive vocalisations rising above a weighty dub disco bassline and rock-solid percussion.

It's followed by two revisions of album favourite ‘Wanna Pop With You’ from A Love From Outer Space main man Sean Johnston under his now familiar Hardway Brothers alias. Combining his own love of raw, analogue-sounding electronics and trippy dancefloor psychedelia with select elements of Meecham’s original – percussion, synth sounds, crisp guitar licks and elements of Severine Mouletin’s lead vocals, Johnston’s main ‘remix’ is a weighty, mid-tempo treat. Arguably even better is his accompanying dub, which is more groove-and-effects focused and makes more of Beecham’s superb original bassline. It’s heavy, spaced-out and undeniably intoxicating.

To round off the package, long-time friend of the label (and sometime contributor) Rose Robinson dons her Tigerbalm pseudonym and gets to work on ‘La Cassette’. Brilliantly cutting up Severine Mouletin’s vocals, she delivers a driving slab of spaced-out, synth-heavy dub disco that adds more weight and energy to Meecham’s original. It’s a fittingly on-point way to close out a superb selection of club-ready revisions.