Cerca:first fragment

If we want to look into the future, we have to start considering the implications more holistically. All too often, science fiction is a dystopian projection of the current era's grimmest realities spiked with pragmatic historical hindsight - but what if instead it was able to reflect our needs, hopes, and dreams? On "SPINE", award-winning Danish composer SØS Gunver Ryberg considers a sustainable alternative, buoyed by interconnectedness, empowerment, and understanding. Channeling her dextrous sound design into advanced, time-bending music that fluctuates through techno, experimental ambient, and soundsystem-vibrating bass music, she maps out an artistic landscape that's futuristic and complex, but never oppressive.

Ryberg is an accomplished producer who's developed her sound over many years, playing concerts and working tirelessly on video game soundtracks, film scores, dance, performance, and multichannel installation pieces. Her first solo album "Entangled" appeared in 2019 on Berlin's esteemed Avian imprint, and was praised for its sensitive approach to noise and abstracted techno, while its EP-length followup "WHYT 030" was nominated for the Nordic Council's prestigious music prize this year. "SPINE" is the inaugural release on Ryberg's own label Arterial, and stands as a thematically dense statement of intent. The label provides a platform to extend Ryberg's artistic goals and reflect not just her world but a world she wants to see develop in the future: somewhere connected and creative, where exploration and free expression is prioritized over genre division and petty compromise.

This philosophy is central to the sounds on "SPINE", which have been carefully sculpted to accurately lay out Ryberg's worldview. Opening track 'Unfolding' presents a sonic ecosystem that flourishes as it spreads itself out, and quivering kick drums vibrate alongside unstable atmospherics. There's the faint fingerprint of Chain Reaction's notional dub techno in there somewhere, but Ryberg interrupts the thought before it can coagulate, assuring the listener that her vision isn't ponderous but playful and optimistic. This mood flickers into view again on the title track 'Spine', as fragmented breaks rumble beneath disorienting synths, faint images of a life we once knew refracted into cosmic beams of light. 'Mirrored Madness' meanwhile is warm, assertive, and optimistic, contrasting skittering cybernetic percussion with dense, enveloping harmonies.

When she pushes rhythm into the background, like on the cinematic 'We tumble on the edges', Ryberg's compositional skill is placed under the microscope. We're presented with the opportunity to examine another dimension of her work, the mystery beneath the stone, hearing saturated, alluring pads infused with hidden harmonies. In these moments, Ryberg implores all of us to consider the environment, asking us to think about the earth's essential nutrients on the dreamy 'Phosphorus Cycle', and what we might do to save ourselves on the delirious 'Where do we go from here'. Ryberg's concern isn't chastising, it's laid out in a warm embrace. The future could still be bright - there's something beautiful in the complexity if you just take the time to look closely.

Modal Analysis proudly presents Het Zweet - Archives Volume 1: 1982-1988, a compilation of the Dutch outsider legend painstakingly picked from over 100 hours of unheard tape. An early electronic pioneer who deployed an array of homemade instruments alongside synths and a tape recorder to craft his searching sound, Marien Van Oers occupies a lonely branch on the tree of this music's early efforts, sliding between pounding industrial grooves, ambient fragments, and extended, entrancing compositions bridging this divide. Most closely akin to Muslimgauze, Test Dept. or Fad Gadget, who shared his outsider practice while remaining thoroughly entrenched in contemporary sounds, Het Zweet is striking for his diversity and for its meticulous composition, formed of carefully arranged layers of sonic detritus culled from his collection of homemade devices and electronic distortions. Finally rising to greater exposure since his death in 2013, Modal Analysis passionately continues this mission with our first volume of archives dedicated to the memory of this bold innovator gone before his time.

La Tène"s boundary-blurring fragmentation of traditional music is a propulsive and pulsating trip drawing upon Terry Riley and the minimalist masters. La Tène named themselves in reference to a cultural period spanning a few centuries of the late Iron Age, first defined in the mid-19th century after a flurry of archaeological discoveries near a Swiss lake. That"s not a superficial hat tip, either. La Tène"s long, hypnotic, wordless pieces are built from traditional folk instrumentation, wild percussion and blurred, subtle electronic embellishments, and feel as ancient and earthy as those millennia-old artefacts - with all the metal, wood, dedication, and craftsmanship they entailed. Ecorcha / Taillée, their fourth release and third for Geneva"s Bongo Joe label, is the sound of three musicians playing together as intuitively as if hooked up to a central, pulsating brain.

Innovative horn player, producer and songwriter CJ Camerieri returns with his deeply collaborative CARM project. CARM II, the second album due out this fall with 37d03d, was produced in Minneapolis by Ryan Olson and features Edie Brickell, Sid Sriram, Kristian Matsson, Justin Vernon, Gabriella Smith, Sean Carey and others. It is a genre-defying, heartfelt exploration of the possibilities in provocative musicmaking and provides a homespace for a profound variety of voices. Where the first record used horns in place of other instruments, CARM II places them even more prominently in the musical texture. The experience of playing live shaped this approach. "Standing at the front of the stage was a new experience for me and I wanted to create a record of songs that justified my being there." On CARM II, there is no mistaking that the lead "singer" of this band is Camerieri's horn. CJ also wanted to feature bandmate Trever Hagen, who takes on both production and performance roles. The featured artists on CARM II have opined on their various roles in this project. Brickell contacted Camerieri asking him to participate in her short-form songwriting project that she introduced on social media during the pandemic. Camerieri and Olson were in the middle of writing songs for the record, and one stood out as perfect for Brickell's request. Sent as a work-inprogress, she quickly responded, writing the first verse and chorus to what would become "More and More." They knew it needed to be fully realized. Says Brickell, "CJ's trumpet melodies and phrases inspired `More and More.' I just listened to him and followed his lead, trusted what came to mind and sang it. It all flowed from his music." "For `I Fall' Ryan and I created the basic track and I really struggled to write on it. It wasn't in song form, and I couldn't find my way into making it a coherent thought." CJ thought of Gabriella Smith, one of the leading composers of our day, and on a whim sent her the track. Smith sent fragments to experiment with and send back to her as she rode out the pandemic in the Norwegian countryside. After 3 months, she then sent him a fully realized score of horns/vocals. The result is a testament to the visionary composer's incredible ingenuity. "That this music was in Smith's imagination and then fully notated is mind boggling to me." "The Ones You Love" was the last song written for the record. CJ had been arranging and playing horns on Sid Sriram's forthcoming debut, falling in love with Sriram's voice and style. The song came from a jam session at with Andrew Broder on keys, Evan Slack on guitar, Chris Bierden on bass, and Hagen on drum machine. CJ and Sid trade epic lines back and forth, celebrating vulnerability and virtuosity in tandem.

Having toured the world and delivered one of the pandemic’s most legendary live streams – including bodybuilders and furniture smashing at the old American embassy in Oslo, Aiming for Enrike started working on new music in 2020. Now ready with their fifth album Empty Airports, the tunes flourish further through atmospheric expressions, into floating, minimalistic, electronic, and ambient soundscapes. Empty Airports was composed and recorded in reflection of the quiet Covid19 life during the patience testing lockdown months of 2020 and 2021. Not only is this the duo's longest album ever, but it's also their first double album. The songs are inspired by and belong somewhere between Thom Yorke, Ashra, Nils Frahm, King Crimson in the 80s, Jon Hopkins and Steve Reich. The cover art for Empty Airports is the finishing touch that elevates the album to a complete piece of art. Thor Merlin's unique artwork is a generatively designed collage consisting of clippings from 19 digital paintings and 10 images created with shader programming in Sakuhin: an open-source program that Merlin also uses for live coding of visuals for Aiming for Enrike. The album cover's individual images will be available NFTs. Guitarist Simen Følstad Nilsen says: "Minimalism, which has always been an important part of our expression, is now cultivated to a much greater extent. When the rush to fulfill musical expectations is abounded, it gives the music more space to become more hypnotic and mesmerizing than before." Empty Airports is another fantastic release from the forward-leaning duo, which justifies that Aiming for Enrike lives entirely in their own universe.

VINYL COLOUR IS SNOW WHITE! As a founding member of Bauhaus, David J helped spearhead the post-punk scene of the early ‘80’s with a string of innovative work, including Bauhaus’ defining moment, a bona fide classic and feasibly the pinnacle of the entire goth scene: the nine minute plus epic slab of industrial dub “Bela Lugosi’s Dead,” featuring David’s lyrics and bass guitar work. Bauhaus propelled to the upper echelons of the UK charts before reaching their zenith in the summer of ’83 and imploding – shattering into fragments of individual talent. This implosion gave rise to David's wide-ranging solo career. The first of Bauhaus’ members to actively release music outside of the band, David went on to put out solo work and collaborations with various authors, poets and infamous indies such as 4AD. In 1985, David regrouped with two former Bauhaus members to form the hugely successful Love and Rockets. Since then, David has continued to produce his trademark brand of deeply heartfelt and darkly sophisticated music. Highlights of What The Patrons Heard include a timely rendition of Neil Young’s “Vampire Blues” delivered with penetrating intensity; “Gimme Some Truth,” which brings new urgency and potency to the John Lennon classic; and “Lay Over And Lay,” which delivers folk-punk that only musicians from the British Isles can get right.

Federico Madeddu Giuntoli is an italian multidisciplinary artist. Mostly autodidact, his art is based on groundedness and simplicity, and focused on the complexity of human journey in a non aggressive, warm and unfiltered way.

His works, ranging from contemporary art, music, writing and photography, are usually delicate and subtle, yet unequivocally tuned into a certain kind of pop communication, however essential and experimental it may be.

"The text and the form" is his first solo album, featuring german e-poetess AGF and japanese artist Moskitoo (12K).

The album is a collection of 11 minimal and intimate short songs, in which piano fragments, lonely guitar solos, spoken words and evocative vocals resonate with processed microsounds and lo-fi field recordings, creating a concise and very deep journey into romance and sense of mystery.

In the artist's words, "the album shaped itself according to a loose process of refinement and layering. A long, undisturbed assembling across more then a decade, often against my own will to reach a definitive form. If any relevance in this work can be found, I would say it resides in its capability to deliver a rare sense of vulnerability, longing and aliveness together, an aroma of improvisation and instability mixed with a unexplicable impression of perfection".

Y Bülbül is back on the controls accompanied by Yumurta, a percussionist from Istanbul. Pingipung introduced the London based artist in 2020 with his psychedelic, synth-laden debut “Fever”.

“Not One, Not Two” is based on a one-way transmission of improvised drum recordings from an industrial estate in Maslak, Istanbul to another one in Tottenham, London, where Y Bülbül laid down fragmented layers of bass, synths, guitars and field recordings over Yumurta’s singular drum takes. The result is a free-form deep listening album for fans of dub, ambient and kosmische music, where the groove and harmonies are mystically interwoven, yet somehow manage to stay on the brink of collapse. Although the sessions were non concurrent and scattered over two continents, the collaboration evokes scenes of a telepathic communion where individual perspectives, circumstances and stories are exchanged between the two.

Resembling Moondog, Holy Tongue or Luis Paniagua in the sense that they favor the raw over the polished, holistic presence over conceptual perfection and questions over answers, the duo’s focus on bare sounds and repetition guides the listener throughout the album. The ride cymbal opening the minimalistic “I’m This”, for instance, briskly disarms the listener who might have been looking for more traditional songwriting or production clues. There are plenty of immediately rewarding moments too in “Not One, Not Two,” like the organic acid bassline in “Maurin Quina”, the euphoric drum fills of “Big K” and the intoxicating groove of the hypnotic vibe-setter “Jah Oto”.

Bülbül is Turkish for a singing bird while Yumurta simply means egg. Which one is first? Who is to follow? It’s this enigmatic entanglement between the two artists which creates the lurking tension, emphasized by the Zen Kōan-like title. The beauty in this album is a peculiar one, and it certainly is a rabbit hole too. Dissonance is fluid as everything moves, and whenever two sounds collide, a third one emerges.

Folk Implosion's fan favorite album is available on cassette for the first time! They say there's always something special about the first time and this record is that first time for the Folk Implosion. The band left the acoustic guitars and fragmentary sketch modus operandi of their earlier cassette behind to focus on an eccentric version of home studio craft, held together by a few cheap microphones (including a Radio Shack PZM) and a Tascam cassette 4-track recorder sequestered under the eaves of a 3rd floor, Cambridge Massachusetts double-decker house apartment. Wood floors and Christmas lights were as much a part of the vibe as an Ampeg VT 40 guitar amp and a small chord organ. The duo would wait until the downstairs neighbor went to work in the morning and then would play until the tunes snapped like a high-pitched snare drum. The setup would close down just before the neighbor came home from work, keeping the peace long enough to see the project through to completion. Once tracked, the band snuck into Fort Apache studios with Tim O'Heir (producer of Sebadoh's 'Bakesale' LP) early one morning, freeloading off the Sebadoh sessions that were set to get going that afternoon. Tim mixed the songs through a very hi-fi Neve board in a matter of hours with the Tascam sitting right on the giant board like a tugboat keeping time with an oil tanker. The duo hoped that the spirits of ancestors like The Troggs, Devo, Al Green, and The Bee Gees would be pleased with the scent of tribute that arose from the ashes of the pyre. Today, they are pleased to see the Slaps and the Sputniks on view again nearly 30 years later. Tracklisting: 1. Blossom 2. Sputnik's Down 3. Slap Me 4. Chicken Squawk 5. Spiderweb-Butterfly 6. Had To Find Out 7. Better Than Allrite 8. Why Do They Hide 9. Winter's Day 10. Boyfriend, Girlfriend 11. Shake A Little Heaven 12. Waltzin' With Your Ego 13. Take A Look Inside 14. Start Again

The essential series from the ’80s has been rebuilt, remastered, and carefully portioned onto a five disc set of 7-inch singles, including all the classic vocal bits that became iconic samples, and more than a few new additions to bring things up to date.

Where would dance music be without Acapellas Anonymous? Although many records claim to have changed the game, the arrival of the Acapellas Anonymous series in the mid/late ’80s actually did just that. A hugely popular, multi-volume set of vocal tracks sourced from a wide variety of dance classics, AA was used extensively at the dawn of sampled music to provide hooks for numerous hits. “I’ve Got the Power,” “Ride On Time,” multiple Clivillés and Cole tracks, Pal Joey’s “Party Time,” ’90s Italo house and rave cuts, and untold others all found their choruses among the many acapellas collected on the series. As Ultimate Breaks & Beats was for funk and hip-hop sampling, so was AA for dance music, both for producers and as a must-have for the creative DJ. Sure, before these records came along, DJs had their own choice vocal bits that they used in sets or layered into edits. But suddenly, much like Ultimate Breaks, these carefully guarded secret sources were available easily, and in convenient form, for the first time. And the response, from DJs and a new generation of producers, was immediate.

That part of the story is widely known, and indeed, was widely experienced by anyone paying attention to music of the time. But the questions linger: who was it that found these acapellas, many of them only existing on promo singles, or as tiny fragments buried on obscure B-sides? Who edited and put them together? By now, you may have guessed that once again we owe an enormous debt to the maestro of edits and our hometown hero, Danny Krivit. And it’s to him we must tip our collective caps for this latest release, a carefully revised, fully remastered, and immaculately executed update to the series — this time on 7-inch.

All of the classics are here, rinsed but still powerful: “Let No Man Put Asunder,” “Weekend,” “Don’t Make Me Wait,” “You Don’t Know,” and dozens more. New additions make a few clever appearances as well, with Roland Clark’s “I Get Deep” (used for Fatboy Slim’s “Star 69”), and Rickie Lee Jones’s stoned rambling known as “Little Fluffy Clouds” showing up for the first time. This is no nostalgia trip — Acapellas Anonymous was recently tapped for a Cardi B megahit, and naturally you’ll find that source, Frank-Ski’s “Whores In This House,” included. All in all, an astounding 80 high-quality acapellas and vocal hooks are spread across the five 7-inch, 33RPM singles, which have each been sequenced thematically with attention paid to timings and tempos to provide maximum utility for the working DJ. And if the past is any indicator, we will likely see a new crop of tracks spring up as these find their way into the production toolkits of the world’s track-makers.

With I was born by the sea, Richie Culver brings to a close a period of intense introspection and emotional reckoning with a debut album that serves as both an optimistic statement of intent and a final glance back at the painful places it explores. Following recent work with Blackhaine and Pavel Milyakov, I was born by the sea picks up where Culver’s EP for Italian label Superpang, Post Traumatic Fantasy, leaves off, painting an unabashed portrait of contemporary malaise, detailing a life lived behind closed doors, pinned under the crushing weight of austerity, sapped of the strength to do anything other than gaze out to sea and all the grey possibilities it represents. Where Post Traumatic Fantasy saw Culver returning to his hometown of Hull after a period spent entangled in London’s relentless sprawl, his first full length project reaches further back to his formative years working in a caravan factory and going to raves in and among Hull’s outskirts. Unspooling like a fever dream, I was born by the sea is the anxious clutter of a racing mind spoken clearly, a stark reflection on how it feels to have too many ideas and too much time to act on them.

Though unquestionably a snapshot of a time of significant difficulty, Culver reflects on this period with tender empathy and pitch-black humour, stitching together unflinching observations from England’s neglected corners, ‘there’s more mobility scooter repair shops and bookies than there are bookshops,’ and devastating vignettes of everyday struggle, ‘tears on the tin foil’, with surreal depictions of industrial grit, ‘skimming stones in a small pond by the slaughterhouse’. His DIY approach to production stretches the rough sinew that connects these fragments of memory, a process he describes as using a paired back collection of synths and drum machines to the best of his ability, ‘but to the least of their capabilities,’ wringing out visceral sound with self-taught urgency. During the album’s most impressionistic passages it’s as though Culver has transposed past internal turmoil into powerfully resonant noise, the Sisyphean sonics of ‘Create A Lifestyle Around Your Problems’, which evokes in its concrète clatter and MRI machine barrage the sound of making the same mistake again and again, or the stuttered jumble of ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You,’ its garbled vocal modulation and frayed edges of distortion channeling the paranoia of somebody listening to muffled voices through thin plaster, climbing the walls of their bedroom with the curtains closed, a nervous breakdown in stereo.

In counterpoint to this glides the ever-present spirit of the dance floor, which haunts the record from the moment it is invoked in its first few seconds. Opening onto a sea wall of bright synthesis, the stuttering vocals and bass tone chops of ‘Nervous Energy’ dump us directly into post rave ecstasy, the echoing cry of a voice amplified by loudspeaker carrying the loose energy and surge of crowds moving in darkness. The incessant, dead phone line beep of ‘Pigeon Flesh’ builds to a pulse that suddenly swells into an anxious technoid surge, shapeshifting at lysergic speed into head shrinking audio hallucinations, a descent into the void of the present via machine music hypnosis. Even ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You’ summons the ego death drive of hardcore techno within its scorched textures, flickering indiscernibly between attritional noise and frazzled hardware stomp. Paying homage to both the parties of his youth and a countless succession of Sundays spent offering himself up within Berghain’s hallowed architecture, Culver’s experiments in addressing his formative relationship with rave provide an energetic glimpse at where he might take his sound next.

Between spikes of propulsive energy and grim mood pieces Culver returns to suspended passages of aching, glacial drift, the cold swell of the North Sea, accompanied by some of his heaviest testimonials. The gauzy ebb of ‘Daytime TV,’ its tumbling loops reminiscent of boats bobbing off a distant shore, sees the artist at his most checked out, slumped in front of his television, seven days a week. ‘I used to dream of doing something,’ he admits, ‘anything to get out of this town.’ ‘Love Like An Abscess’ pairs swirling currents of ambient shimmer with violent images of baseball bats lying next to beds and blood-stained mattresses, next to which Culver pleads in a desperate mumble, ‘let our love grow, like a broken abscess.’ Yet it’s with the album’s final word and title track that Culver reveals a glimmer of cautious optimism, a parting gesture of exposition and closure. ‘I knew I had to get away,’ he asserts, ‘so I did and I never looked back.’ What follows builds from a low throb, the flutter of a tiny heartbeat, to a resonant glow, embellished with unfurling synthetic burbles, oil rigs sparkling in the distance, golden light spilling across the sea. In reckoning with the place he had to escape, Richie Culver is now free to look towards the promise of something new, something hopeful.

Recommended If You Like: Trentemøeller, Nine Inch Nails, Zola Jesus, Tropic of Cancer, Chelsea Wolfe, William Basinski, oOoOO, The Focus Group/Ghost Box -- hauntology in general. LP on Blood Red Vinyl, LP & CD packaged in a gatefold jacket. First new music since 2018’s Lingering Pt. II. Featuring k Hover (Sound of Ceres) on “Moldering Fragments”. Sleep Party People’s Brian Batz dives into the darker edges of orchestral pop on new album Heap of Ashes. Influenced by primarily Bulgarian choral music, old-school metal, and 21st century experimental composition, the music of Sleep Party People exposes every facet, every moment, and every wound, finding beauty even when the last glow of hope looks like it’s ready to fade into the ashes. Heap of Ashes includes contributions from Halvcirkle, GNOM, and Sound of Ceres’ K Hover. Track Listing 1 It Won't Be Cinematic 2 Tide 3 Spider Cracks 4 Moldering Fragments 5 No. 3147 6 Labyrinth 7 Parched Bodies 8 Pagan Flames 9 Needle

Recommended If You Like: Trentemøeller, Nine Inch Nails, Zola Jesus, Tropic of Cancer, Chelsea Wolfe, William Basinski, oOoOO, The Focus Group/Ghost Box -- hauntology in general. LP on Blood Red Vinyl, LP & CD packaged in a gatefold jacket. First new music since 2018’s Lingering Pt. II. Featuring k Hover (Sound of Ceres) on “Moldering Fragments”. Sleep Party People’s Brian Batz dives into the darker edges of orchestral pop on new album Heap of Ashes. Influenced by primarily Bulgarian choral music, old-school metal, and 21st century experimental composition, the music of Sleep Party People exposes every facet, every moment, and every wound, finding beauty even when the last glow of hope looks like it’s ready to fade into the ashes. Heap of Ashes includes contributions from Halvcirkle, GNOM, and Sound of Ceres’ K Hover. Track Listing 1 It Won't Be Cinematic 2 Tide 3 Spider Cracks 4 Moldering Fragments 5 No. 3147 6 Labyrinth 7 Parched Bodies 8 Pagan Flames 9 Needle

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Uri Katzenstein’s Audio Works, produced in collaboration with Holon’s Centre for Digital Art. Spanning sculptural installation, performance, video art, and many other media, Katzenstein’s absurdist, poetic, and often hilarious work made extensive use of sound and music. This, however, is the first release dedicated to the artist’s audio work, collecting 28 tracks produced between the early 1980s and 2017. Compiled from dozens of hours of recordings left uncatalogued (and in some instances unheard) at the artist’s death in 2018, these four sides are a treasure trove, offering a captivating glimpse into a uniquely uninhibited creative practice. Predominantly recorded alone, with some contributions from regular collaborators such as Ohad Fishof on the later pieces, many of these tracks stem from Katzenstein’s time living in New York in the 1980s. Feeding on the cross-pollination of post-punk energy, radical art practice, and new media possibilities that characterised the New York scene at this time, many of Katzenstein’s recordings squeeze multilayered vocal experimentation into synth-based miniatures with a distinctively pop twist, their forms ruptured with anarchic bursts of free-form electronics, sounds from self-built instruments, and field-recorded snatches of the outside world. Katzenstein’s electronic production calls up touchstones of skewed 80s art pop like Laurie Anderson, Ambitious Lovers, and Scritti Politti, but imbued with DIY directness and economy of means. The arrangements of synths, percussion, and noise elements are invigoratingly raw and, at times, almost austerely minimal. On ‘Intermission’, thick distorted chords accompany a wandering portamento melody, inhabiting the wayward carnival space of Roedelius’ most unhinged efforts. Many of the tracks centre on Katzenstein’s multi-tracked vocal performances, often moving between multiple languages, (most commonly English, German, French, and Hebrew). A bewildering range of vocal approaches are present on these pieces, from sweet wordless harmonies to hammed-up growls and monastic recitations. On ‘Skin O. Daayba – Complex Habits no. 3’, improvised resonance singing against a backdrop of echoing electronics and radio snatches. ‘Half Monk Half Herring’ layers multi-lingual syllabic fragments, crossing sound poetry techniques with melodic invention in a way rarely heard outside of Caetano Veloso’s Araçá Azul. On ‘Attempt to Raise Hell’, Katzenstein’s distorted voice spits out streams of alliterative nonsense (‘the hemlock of Henry, he was a hermit…purple pumpkin pulsates to pops’), while on the hilarious ‘Eric’, Katzenstein appears to instruct a small boy simultaneously in basic French and German conversation. On ‘Chicken’, vocal harmonies accompany the pecking and clucking of the titular fowl. Moving from bent, outsider synth pop to snatches of Jo Jones-esque automated instrumental clang and absurdist linguistic experiments, these are far more than footnotes to an artist’s gallery works. Accompanied by extensive, beautifully written liner notes by Roee Rosen and the little information that exists on the individual tracks, Katzenstein’s Audio Works inhabits an outer fringe of DIY pop and sonic experiment reminiscent of Pascal Comelade or Die Welttraumforscher, where accessible forms convey radical interrogations of song, word, and sound.

6 face-melting gurners for the 21st Century’s, wilted and jilted generation.

Glasgow’s Lady Neptune follows her New Gorbals Gabber cassette E.P. with her debut vinyl release NOZ. Over the course of 23 bloody fisted minutes, Lady Neptune’s – aka Moema Meade - hyper destructed take on Gabber and Happy Hardcore breaks down the genre tropes before rebuilding them as a new pop music. If 2020’s New Gorbals Gabber showed an artist building their own language from fragments of different genres, 2022’s NOZ goes harder into the cyberpunk-ass future and takes no prisoners. Recorded and mixed at Glasgow’s legendary Green Door Studios and mastered by Rashad Becker, here Lady Neptune evolves into a monster.

With the classic weapons of Dutch Gabber – distorted 909 kick drums, bursts of noise and world-eating Rave-O- Matic hoovering synth riffs, Lady Neptune’s 6 tracks constantly threaten to careen off the speaker into the sweatiest, most gibbering, messy corners of the club. The two years since her debut has seen Meade destroying festival dancefloors, training for the full assault that is NOZ. Live performances have seen foam guns, tequila-pistols, neon stage dancers and a full, maxed-out orgy of fast-as-hell BPM, rave music burning up the cones. The experience reaps rewards from the outset on recorded form here. APOCOLYPS begins with monstrous vocals and the all-consuming kick, pulled back and taut for launch. The arsenal builds; warbling synths and high-pitched synth-strings before dropping into Bald Terror-sized hoovers and stuttering 4/4s. It quickly bleeds into MASTERER, with a looped, pitched up vocal intersecting with the synth riff. The aesthetics might be Happy Hardcore but the dynamic feels like a synthetic, evil Nu Metal-influenced Industrial music. Constantly evolving and twisting with its own natural drama, the drop at 2:15 is pure ecstatic release. fusing Meade’s inclination for pop hooks with the first out-and-out 180BPM (ish, who’s counting?) anthemic melter of the E.P., TELL ME has THE big catchy chorus, used sparingly and sung by Meade with angelic devilishness, coming at you in waves of XTC. It’s a repeater.

It’s then massive fists in the air for the ruthless Side B opener WIT. In the Welsh-Brazilian artist’s adopted home of Glasgow it translates directly as WHAT!? Itt makes sense. g. Sharp, weaponised, rhythmic punishment abounds before OH responds. Pitched up vocals and another mid-frequency synth hook wipes the slate clean. Like the best Gabber, the tension and release dynamic is used to full effect by Meade, with the thunderous low end kick -expertly tweaked in the mastering by Rashad Becker – slipping into the ghostly cavern. Industrialized 4/4 and noise-snares propel onwards to be utterly squashed by that bloody synth, stinging and horribly brilliant. Proving her genius for a ridiculous A-N-T-H-E-M, TIME 2 MAKE U FEEL GOOD closes the 23 minutes of ragged, drugged glory with a festival-slamming chorus built from the wreckage. It’s a song that does that thing we all know and love but can’t put our finger on. Sad, happy, tragedy, ecstasy, joy, horror...There’s big, minor chord changes (yes there’s some CHORDS on this slammer), the kick is submerged in layers of pads and Meade’s actual secret weapon: her vocal and knack for writing a chorus line. In the listener’s mind it’s over before it’s begun, a track destined for the big rewind.

NOZ is a breathless, E-number riddled eternal ecstasy.

Armed with a disdain for pastiche and a penchant for experimentalism, rRoxymore has spent the last decade pushing the boundaries of what constitutes club music. Across a steady stream of releases, the Berlin-based artist has continually reinvented her sound, shifting from hypnotic leftfield techno to UK bass mutations, genre-eschewing dub oddities and so much more. On Perpetual Now, her sophomore album, she again displays this propensity for pushing the sonic envelope. It's a slow-burning record, and one that blurs the lines between the electronic and the organic. Subverting the traditional album format, Perpetual Now is made up of four extended soundscapes - each taking the listener on a journey through tempo, texture and emotional state. Downtempo opener `At The Crest' gently sets things into motion, allowing the sparse percussion to tentatively find its feet. `Sun In C' is a peculiarly meditative excursion, crafting a rich, intoxicating atmosphere across its nine minutes. `Fragmented Dreams', with its pulsating rhythms and fractured melodies, sees the album fleetingly burst into life, before `Water Stain' winds things down in the most effortless of manners. A daring, unconventional album, Perpetual Now is everything we've come to expect and more from one of electronic music's most unique producers. French-born, Berlin-based DJ, sound artist and producer rRoxymore first emerged on the scene with `Wheel of Fortune', a ten-minute epic released on Planningtorock's Human Level back in 2012. She has since put out music regularly, dropping her debut album Face To Phase in 2019, and more recently "I Wanted More", a four-track EP that veered from downtempo ambience to lush deep house.

Several things happened before a warm day when I met the four members of Frankie Cosmos in a Brooklyn studio to begin making their album. Greta Kline spent a few years living with her family and writing a mere 100 songs, turning her empathy anywhere from the navel to the moon, rendering it all warm, close and reflexively humorous. In music, everyone loves a teen sensation, but Kline has never been more fascinating than now, a decade into being one of the most prolific songwriters of her generation. She's lodged in my mind amongst authors, other observational alchemists like Rachel Cusk or Sheila Heti, but she's funnier, which is a charm endemic to musicians. Meanwhile Frankie Cosmos, a rare, dwindling democratic entity called a band, had been on pandemic hiatus with no idea if they'd continue. In the openness of that uncertainty they met up, planning to hang out and play music together for the first time in nearly 500 days. There, whittling down the multitude of music to work with, they created Inner World Peace, a collection of Greta's songs changed and sculpted by their time together. While Kline's musical taste at the time was leaning toward aughts indie rock she'd loved as a teenager, keyboardist Lauren Martin and drummer Luke Pyenson cite "droning, meditation, repetition, clarity and intentionality," as well as "'70s folk and pop" as a reference for how they approached their parts. Bassist/guitarist Alex Bailey says that at the time he referred to it as their "ambient" or "psych" album. Somewhere between those textural elements and Kline's penchant for concise pop, Inner World Peace finds its balance. The first order of business upon setting up camp in Brooklyn's Figure 8 studios was to project giant colorful slides the band had made for each track. Co-producing with Nate Mendelsohn, my Shitty Hits Recording partner, we aimed for FC's aesthetic idiosyncrasies to shine. The mood board for "Magnetic Personality" has a neon green and black checkerboard, a screen capture of the game Street Fighter with "K.O." in fat red letters, and a cover of Mad Magazine that says "Spy Vs. Spy! The Top Secret Files." On tracks like "F.O.O.F." (Freak Out On Friday), "Fragments" and "Aftershook," the group are at their most psychedelic and playful, interjecting fuzz solos, bits of percussion, and other sonically adventurous ear candy. An internal logic strengthens everything, and in their proggiest moments, Frankie Cosmos are simply a one-take band who don't miss. When on Inner World Peace they sound wildly, freshly different, it may just be that they're coming deeper into their own. Inner World Peace excels in passing on the emotions it holds. When in the towering "Empty Head" Kline sings of wanting to let thoughts slide away, her voice is buoyed on a bed of synths and harmonium as tranquility abounds. When her thoughts become hurried and full of desire, so does the band, and she leaps from word to word as if unable to contain them all. As a group, they carry it all deftly, and with constant regard for Kline's point of view. Says Greta, "To me, the album is about perception. It's about the question of "who am I?" and whether or not the answer matters. It's about quantum time, the possibilities of invisible worlds. The album is about finding myself floating in a new context. A teenager again, living with my parents. An adult, choosing to live with my family in an act of love. Time propelled us forward, aged us, and also froze. If you don't leave the house, who are you to the world? Can you take the person you discover there out with you?" - Katie Von Schleicher

Several things happened before a warm day when I met the four members of Frankie Cosmos in a Brooklyn studio to begin making their album. Greta Kline spent a few years living with her family and writing a mere 100 songs, turning her empathy anywhere from the navel to the moon, rendering it all warm, close and reflexively humorous. In music, everyone loves a teen sensation, but Kline has never been more fascinating than now, a decade into being one of the most prolific songwriters of her generation. She's lodged in my mind amongst authors, other observational alchemists like Rachel Cusk or Sheila Heti, but she's funnier, which is a charm endemic to musicians. Meanwhile Frankie Cosmos, a rare, dwindling democratic entity called a band, had been on pandemic hiatus with no idea if they'd continue. In the openness of that uncertainty they met up, planning to hang out and play music together for the first time in nearly 500 days. There, whittling down the multitude of music to work with, they created Inner World Peace, a collection of Greta's songs changed and sculpted by their time together. While Kline's musical taste at the time was leaning toward aughts indie rock she'd loved as a teenager, keyboardist Lauren Martin and drummer Luke Pyenson cite "droning, meditation, repetition, clarity and intentionality," as well as "'70s folk and pop" as a reference for how they approached their parts. Bassist/guitarist Alex Bailey says that at the time he referred to it as their "ambient" or "psych" album. Somewhere between those textural elements and Kline's penchant for concise pop, Inner World Peace finds its balance. The first order of business upon setting up camp in Brooklyn's Figure 8 studios was to project giant colorful slides the band had made for each track. Co-producing with Nate Mendelsohn, my Shitty Hits Recording partner, we aimed for FC's aesthetic idiosyncrasies to shine. The mood board for "Magnetic Personality" has a neon green and black checkerboard, a screen capture of the game Street Fighter with "K.O." in fat red letters, and a cover of Mad Magazine that says "Spy Vs. Spy! The Top Secret Files." On tracks like "F.O.O.F." (Freak Out On Friday), "Fragments" and "Aftershook," the group are at their most psychedelic and playful, interjecting fuzz solos, bits of percussion, and other sonically adventurous ear candy. An internal logic strengthens everything, and in their proggiest moments, Frankie Cosmos are simply a one-take band who don't miss. When on Inner World Peace they sound wildly, freshly different, it may just be that they're coming deeper into their own. Inner World Peace excels in passing on the emotions it holds. When in the towering "Empty Head" Kline sings of wanting to let thoughts slide away, her voice is buoyed on a bed of synths and harmonium as tranquility abounds. When her thoughts become hurried and full of desire, so does the band, and she leaps from word to word as if unable to contain them all. As a group, they carry it all deftly, and with constant regard for Kline's point of view. Says Greta, "To me, the album is about perception. It's about the question of "who am I?" and whether or not the answer matters. It's about quantum time, the possibilities of invisible worlds. The album is about finding myself floating in a new context. A teenager again, living with my parents. An adult, choosing to live with my family in an act of love. Time propelled us forward, aged us, and also froze. If you don't leave the house, who are you to the world? Can you take the person you discover there out with you?" - Katie Von Schleicher

Within the panorama and filmic landscapes that open up from the music, stories and fragments of stories are told, about people, the spaces they occupy, their closeness and the distance that lies between them. Written and recorded over 3 years in London, Switzerland and in an ancient barn not far from their Midland’s roots, founding members Simon and Justin Jones who form the core of ‘And Also ­The Trees’ with maverick drummer Paul Hill are joined for the first time by Grant Gordon on bass guitar and Colin Ozanne on clarinet. ­Their inclusion brings a twist to this band’s subtle yet intriguing evolution. ‘And Also ­The Trees’ have been performing live and creatively developing since they formed in rural Worcestershire at the beginning of the post punk era in 1980. Other than a period in their early years when they attracted attention from John Peel, the British music press and Th­e Cure with whom they worked and supported on tours, they have operated mainly under the radar of the media and music industry as a whole, drawing inspiration from the dark underbelly of the British countryside and touring each of their 14 albums across Europe and as far afield as the USA and Japan. It follows their 2016 release ‘Born Into ­The Waves’ an album that many considered to be their most accomplished. A rare accolade for a band of such longevity. AATT will be playing shows Summer and Autumn 2022 with a tour in Spring 2023. Tracklisting: 1. In A Bed In Yugoslavia 2. Beyond Action And Reaction 3. The Seven Skies 4. Th­e Girl Who Walks The City 5. Th­e Book Burners 6. Across The Divide 7. Another Town Another Face 8. Last Of The Larkspurs 9. The Bone Carver 10. Sun Of Kashiva

Anthology introducing the first of a series of albums based on the concept of Aquapelago.

‘’ Since the earliest days of the planet there has been a rhythm of tides that creates coastal interzones where humans have foraged and pursued various livelihoods. Developing boats to fish from and technologies that enabled them to immerse themselves deep underwater, the aquatic realm has been one explored, experienced and imagined in various ways. In an effort to express the vitality and richness of this environment I coined the term aquapelago in 2012. The wordplay was deliberate. The neologism was designed to distinguish the liquid inbetweenness of this space from the dry, scattered, lands of archipelagos.

The concept of the aquapelago coalesced around themes taken from various places. Epeli Hau’ofa’s idea of an Oceanic “sea of islands’” was formative but a number of songs were also inspirational. Torres Strait islander Seaman Dan captivated me with his experiences of pearl diving in the Darnley Deeps in his song ‘Forty Fathoms’ and Norfolk Islander singer Kath King imaged how sea-turtles might have experienced ecological change in her song ‘Tech me how fer lew’. Other reflections on watery realms also appealed. Debussy’s solo piano piece ‘La cathédrale engloutie’ soundtracked me as I researched myths of lost Lyonesse while Mike Cooper’s Kiribati, an ambient exoticist album about the imperilled archipelago (recently re-released on Discrepant), caused me to reflect on the social and cultural impact of sea level rise before that topic became a high-profile concern.

This compilation album takes the concept of the aquapelago into new depths and breaches it on fresh shores. The tracks are soaked with the aquatic. Bassy sonorities boom as if heard deep underwater. Bubbly textures breach the surface, water drips and seabirds soar high above waves. Sugai Kei samples fragments of text concerning the Ningen, a fantastic humanoid/whale that reflects the ‘aquapelagic imaginary’ of modern Japan and its preoccupation with industrial whaling. Andrew Pekler continues the orientation of his Phantom Islands project - a sonic atlas of imaginary places - with a soundscape as if heard by a swimmer just offshore, mixing sounds of the island and the sea together. Mike Cooper’s sonic reflection on Hong Kong’s Lamma Island is similar, combining the island’s ubiquitous barking dogs with the slurp of waves on rocky shores, conjuring a languorous time before Chinese crackdowns on the territory.

Taking another tack, the Dead Mauriacs gleefully water-ski through collage of tropical island exoticisms, replete with glitchy orientalism, while Babau combines skittering idiophone melodies with resonant glissandi. Vica Pacheco moves between dense and airy sounds, as if crossing between surf lines and the space above. Yannkick Dauby’s track is also imbued with in-betweenness, evoking ambient sounds heard through a ship’s hull. Sculpture’s ‘Froth Surfer’ realises its title, with bubbling sounds and rhythms that evoke Hawaiian surfing filtered through layers of time and distance. Reminding us of the shore necessary for aquapelagic spaces, Franceso Cavaliere and Tomoko Sauvage’s composition anchors the album, centred around shaken rhythms and resonant ringing tones and drones.

Taken together, the album sketches the contours of the aquapelago as it might be imagined and conjured in sound – an endless oceanic realm that laps on to beaches and crashes against cliffs. The performers navigate this space under alternately starry and cloudy skies, orientating themselves with sounds, textures and sonic samples of their terrestrial homes while we float with them. ‘’
Philip Hayward December 2021