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Ben Klock & Fadi Mohem announce debut collaborative album featuring Coby Sey and Flowdan on new label LAYER

Ben Klock and Fadi Mohem present their first collaborative album on their new label LAYER. The ten-track full length project titled Layer One follows the hypnotic EP Klockworks 34 that set the stage in 2022. In a bold departure from the techno roots that have defined and nurtured their careers, Klock and Mohem are now pushing genre boundaries, exploring IDM, ambient and experimental electronic music while still retaining the brilliance that characterised their earlier work.

The conceptual direction of Layer One delves into a post-human world, where humans are close to extinction on Earth, leaving only imprints, traces, and relics behind—digital fossils and machine-generated images capturing fleeting moments of non-human photography, as Artificial Intelligence remains in a world that quietly thrives without us. We do not perceive this as a bleak apocalyptic dystopia, but more a sober and serene reflection of a world that continues to exist and flourish, indifferent to the absence of humanity. Despite this unremitting setting, through this journey we find survivors who signal a remembrance of the human sensibilities.

Elevating this project are two very human and dynamic collaborations featuring the charismatic Coby Sey and the legendary grime MC Flowdan. Sey, a prominent figure in the British music scene known for his work with artists like Tirzah and Mica Levi, injects his music with a mesmerizing emotional depth. Opening the album with the powerful track ‘Ultimately,’ Sey offers spoken-word musings on creativity and life over experimental landscapes meticulously crafted by Klock and Mohem. Nostalgia permeates this opening track, and track 7 ‘Clean Slate’ reinforces this sentiment with Sey’s stream-of-consciousness wordplay.

Flowdan, the gritty MC whose verses have become anthems of the UK grime movement, made headlines in 2023 with two songs that reached the top 20 of the UK singles chart. In 2024, he was awarded his first Grammy for the Skrillex and Fred Again collaboration Rumble, becoming the first grime artist to win in any category. On track ‘Our Sector,’ Flowdan unleashes his raw energy and dynamic flow, adding a thrilling vocal dimension to the album’s narrative. The fluid delivery of his lyrics and rhythmic timing are enhanced by the staccato beats and abstract synths. These collaborations are not mere features; they are pivotal moments that crystallize the album’s vision—an experimental re-imagining of electronic music’s possibilities.

Immediately offering an impressive entry to Klock and Mohem’s changing sonic universe ‘Escape Velocity’ shows the collaboration at its strongest. Deftly juggling between ambient chords and more densely intricate rhythmic moments. These tightly layered textures and intense clashing moments are continued through most of the album. On other tracks the duo are just as innovative ‘Rest Assured’ rips open the sound palette Klock and Mohem are known for, synths dart around flickering through into unexpected areas. Penultimate track ‘The Machine’ feels like the internal innards of a PC or synthesizer brought to life. Electricity flows through the track like an auditory exploration of the digital world's hidden mechanical and electrical processes. In contrast, final track ‘Melatonin’ does exactly what the name suggests; its soothing melodic ambience cradles the listener as the album draws to a close.

Alongside the album’s release, the duo will release two singles. This album represents the work of two artists at the peak of their creative powers, inviting listeners to step outside the familiar and explore a different musical perspective.

Turning their gaze to the buoyant culture of wyrd, modernist German folk music, Quindi welcome a spectacularly idiosyncratic offering from Johannes Schebler, aka Baldruin. Bewildering narrative twists, high drama and intricate delicacy make Mosaike der Imagination an engrossing listen from the outset, as baroque atmospheres and tumbledown drums intertwine with tactile string plucks and needlepoint synthesis in an authoritative bridging of ancient and hypermodern sonic sensibilities.
Schebler's catalogue as Baldruin is extensive, reaching back to the late 00s and covering a lot of ground through cassette albums on respected underground labels like SicSic, A Giant Fern and Lullabies For Insomniacs. Meanwhile, his work has been recognised as part of a broader movement of experimental electronic music in Germany taking inspiration from folk traditions, as documented on last year's essential Bureau B compilation, Gespensterland. Beyond his solo work, Schebler also works with Jani Hirvonen as Grykë Pyje (mappa), and both collaborate with Paul Wilson as Yayoba (Not Not Fun). Christian Schoppik of leading dark folk project Brannten Schnüre joins him as Freundliche Kreisel (STROOM). It's a tangled, fascinating and evocative sound world which Mosaike der Imagination offers a compelling window into.
No two tracks on the album follow the same pattern or palette, whether gliding through the Giallo synth undulations and post rock tonal arcs of 'Stimme des Wegelagerers' or spelling out miasmic incantations through flickering flames on 'Aus dem Feuer, aus dem Licht'. 'Hinein, hinaus, hinüber' revolves around meditative drum mantras and cascading melodic phrasing, densely layered and evolving with purpose. 'Gemeinsam hindurch' flicks between swooping strings and pizzicato plucks in a purely romantic expression of orchestration, 'Mit verbundenen Augen' is a bewildering choral voice study and 'Im Sternstrom' revels in ecstatic synth arpeggios. Nothing can be predicted except the vibrancy and clarity of Schebler's vision.
It's a vision which extends to the front cover artwork for Mosaike der Imagination — a glorious tapestry created by Finnish artist Jan Anderzén, with a responding design and layout from Schebler adorning the rear sleeve.
Stepping to the side of the cosy daydream reveries that inhabit much of the Quindi output, Mosaike der Imagination indulges the label's penchant for sophistication in a freakily fascinating new framework from the heart of an exciting movement in experimental folk music.

Two acclaimed releases into their short career - a debut EP and a split 7" with Citizen - Virginia's Turnover have quickly grabbed the attention of a scene of angst filled teens and twenty-somethings who grew up on Drive-Thru records classics and 90's grunge radio. Turnover spent a month last November with producer Will Yip (Title Fight, Circa Survive) and emerged with Magnolia. Their debut LP fulfills the promise set forth in their prior releases - contemplative, brooding pop-punk songs written with a somber, yet undeniable catchiness.

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

2009 veröffentlichten Boozoo Bajou ihr drittes Album 'Grains'. Es ist das bisher organischste Album des Nürnberger Duos, das durch die Verschmelzung moderner Elektronik mit Live-Instrumenten wunderschöne Klänge erzeugt. Ein Album mit Underground-Sounds, das jedoch auf starken Melodien und emotionalem Gesang basiert. Inspiriert von akustischen Singer-Songwritern haben sie 'Grains' aufgenommen, weil sie in den Laurel Canyon Sound verliebt waren. Boozoo Bajou schufen etwas Frisches und Modernes aus ihren Old-School-Inspirationen, die sie in ihre Studio-Soundlandschaften einflochten. Ihre Fans werden die reiche Mischung aus zeitgenössischen und alten Klängen mehr als zu schätzen wissen. Ein Folk-Songbook für das 21. Jahrhundert.

Paula counted down as time cracked open. Thoughts bled colors. Reality flickered, then vanished.

On March 24, 2023 Rob Mazurek assembled his endlessly psychedelic and explorative large ensemble Exploding Star Orchestra under the dome of Chicago’s Adler Planetarium to perform material from their recently released album Lightning Dreamers along with a number of new pieces.

A digital projection flashed an ever-changing stream of vividly colored, abstract shapes derived from Mazurek’s paintings and animations over the audience’s heads, while the Orchestra, which on this night numbered eight musicians besides its leader, transformed the stylistically disparate pieces from Lightning Dreamers into an enveloping maelstrom. Electric pianists Angelica Sanchez and Craig Taborn pushed layers of plush texture back and forth over the intricate, tripartite grooves of bassist Ingebrigt Håker Flaten and two drummers, Chad Taylor and Gerald Cleaver. Mazurek’s trumpets and wordless cries, Tomeka Reid’s cello and Nicole Mitchell’s flute and voice periodically surfaced out of the flow, issuing sharp, energetic statements, while Damon Locks’ proclamations flickered in and out of the mix like an erratic signal from some interstellar radio announcer. Together, they reimagined the brooding sound of Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew as a force for transcendent uplift.

At one point, Mitchell put down her flute, spoke into Mazurek’s ear and pointed up to toward the dome. As he looked up, his own horn came down, and for a moment, the two of them gazed with undisguised awe at the spectacle that the Orchestra had unleashed. In a time when so many forces conspire to bring people down, this concert was an invitation to look up and out past the horizon.

Since first splashing on to the Southern California circuit in the mid-aughts, Geneva Jacuzzi (née Garvin) quickly cemented herself as the queen of the Los Angeles underground. Her immersive and unhinged multimedia performances are the stuff of legend, a psychotropic gallery of masks, costumes, confrontation, and massive art installations. Jacuzzi’s recordings are equally revered, catchy hooks and cryptic moods dusted in 4-track grit. The arrival of her third official full-length, and Dais Records debut, is cause for such celebration. Triple Fire vividly expands and crystallizes Jacuzzi’s signature fusion of midnight melody and mutant aerobics across a 12-track hit parade of wildcard synth-pop and sly post-apocalyptic camp. Her enthusiasm for the album is as bold as her body of work: “Halfway through, we started calling this the record of the prophecy, the record that’s going to save mankind.”



Opener “Laps of Luxury” sets the template – a strobe-lit dreamer’s delight of swaggering synth bass, Haçienda drum machinery, and sultry vocal spellcasting (“Tragic mysteries I’ve known for centuries / I burned all memories and turned to fantasy”). The collection burns through shades of sardonic strut (“Art Is Dangerous,” “Nu2U,” “Keep It Secret”), coldwave kiss off (“Speed Of Light,” co-produced by Andrew Clinco of Drab Majesty), retro-futurist body music (“Dry,” “Scene Ballerina,” “Bow Tie Eater”), and cheeky glitterball pop (“Take It Or Leave It,” “Heart Full Of Poison” co-produced by Roderick Edens and Andrew Briggs). She likens the eclectic spectrum of moods to the continuum of human emotions: “Funny, sexy, sad, scary, witty, hopeful, menacing. Eventually it deconstructs, turns into a party, and then ends sweet and soft.”



Taken as a whole, Triple Fire comes as close as any document yet to capturing Jacuzzi’s kaleidoscopic alchemy of pop sugar and chaos energy, flickering between icy and ironic, chic and surreal, hungry and heartsick. Hers is a muse as rare as it is regenerative, forever reborn at the precipice of the next chorus: “Someone said that Alcatraz had fallen into the sea / Almost sounded like an angel calling me in a dream / I felt an electric shock when I picked up the microphone.”

Red in Clear Vinyl. First compiled as a double CD in 2002, Moon's Milk (in Four Phases) is a suite of four EPs that Coil released seasonally via their in-house Eskaton imprint across 1998. The line-up for these sessions were John Balance, Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson, Drew McDowall, and William Breeze. Recorded primarily at their home studio in Chiswick, London on the eve of a permanent relocation to the small seaside town of Weston-super-Mare, the collection has long loomed as a pivotal and pinnacle work in the group's discography, but has never been officially reissued, or repressed on vinyl. Time has only ripened its tapestry of regal strangeness.Arranged sequentially in tribute to the equinoxes and solstices, Moon's Milk captures Coil at a revelatory crossroads, leaning deeper into improvisation, spontaneity, and sound design. "Moon's Milk or Under an Unquiet Skull" initiates the proceedings on Spring Equinox, a two-part netherworld organ séance woven from vocal drones, cathedral keys, seasick strings, and opiated undertow. From there, Summer Solstice skews lighter but no less incantational, with Balance embracing his voice-as-instrument across lucid dream torch songs ("Bee Stings"), purgatorial spoken word ("Glowworms/Waveforms"), sultry chamber pieces ("Summer Substructures"), and falsetto ravings ("A Warning From The Sun (For Fritz)").Autumn Equinox exudes more of a pensive and twilit mood, from the Rose McDowall-sung folk ballad "Rosa Decidua" ("I hear your voice sing near to me / I've put away the poisoned chalice (for now) / And lie down amongst the flowerbeds") to hall-of-lords hallucination "The Auto-Asphyxiating Hierophant" to the liminal string-plucked classic "Amethyst Deceivers," featuring excellent alien guitar by Breeze layered with Balance's oft-quoted couplet: "Pay your respects to the vultures / For they are your future."The album's final chapter, Winter Solstice, is its most swooning, remote, and ceremonial. Opener "A White Rainbow" stirs strings, layered choral vocals, and shivering rhythm into an imploding burial hymn. "North" oscillates bleakly, a ghost in the machine murmuring opaque prophecy ("This black dog has no owner / This black dog has no odour"), while "Magnetic North" is its inverse, a guided meditation of gently flickering software and surreal chakra poetics ("Red rose filling the skull / Yellow cube in the lower pelvis / Silver moon crescent below the navel"). The suite fades to grey with a traditional English carol ("Christmas Is Now Drawing Near"), rendered like an executioner's song by Rose McDowall's doomed, beautiful voice.The Dais box set includes the entirety of the rare Moon's Milk Bonus Disc CD-R / 2019 Threshold Archives CD, which includes three collaborations with Thighpaulsandra. This material is as rich and intoxicating as the previous four phases, ranging from electro-acoustic singing bowl rituals ("Copal") to dissonant electronic recitations of visionary Angus MacLise poetry ("The Coppice Meat") to ominous classical melancholia ("Bankside"). Once again, Coil confirm the vastness of their confounding, infinite alchemy, explored and refined across decades of experimentation - both sonic and bodily. From post-industrial to post-everything, theirs is an art untethered, in the wilds of its own design.

Southern California shoegaze squad Cold Gawd return to Dais for their second and most supreme suite yet of crushing downer bliss: I’ll Drown On This Earth. From the defiant scream that kicks off opening cut “Gorgeous,” the album rips in what singer and principal songwriter Matthew Wainwright describes as “go for it” mode: holding back nothing, wasting no time. Although the bulk of the songs were written in 2022, recording sessions weren’t booked until March of 2024, which allowed ample time to refine and distill the music’s hooks, heaviness, and haze. The result is a perfect storm of distortion and dream pop, cracked love songs cloaked in swooning walls of noise.

Recorded at Paradise Recorders in Anaheim, California with Colin Knight (of post-punk unit Object of Affection), Wainwright tracked the strings while Cameron Fonacier handled drums. The process was efficient and effective, sharpened by years of performance. Anthemic headbangers like “Portland,” “All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For A Thing I Cannot Name,” and “Malibu Beach House” sound as dynamic as they do dialled-in, soaked into the bones of the players. The lyrics camelast, written by Wainwright a week before recording. Moods of surreality (“I can hear the blood in my fingers / nothing tunes out / the world’s too loud”), infatuation (“I will follow / everywhere you go / any way to feel / how you glow”), and melancholy (“God kept me around / for no good reason”) flicker and fade within a fog of memory and reverb.

Southern California shoegaze squad Cold Gawd return to Dais for their second and most supreme suite yet of crushing downer bliss: I’ll Drown On This Earth. From the defiant scream that kicks off opening cut “Gorgeous,” the album rips in what singer and principal songwriter Matthew Wainwright describes as “go for it” mode: holding back nothing, wasting no time. Although the bulk of the songs were written in 2022, recording sessions weren’t booked until March of 2024, which allowed ample time to refine and distill the music’s hooks, heaviness, and haze. The result is a perfect storm of distortion and dream pop, cracked love songs cloaked in swooning walls of noise.

Recorded at Paradise Recorders in Anaheim, California with Colin Knight (of post-punk unit Object of Affection), Wainwright tracked the strings while Cameron Fonacier handled drums. The process was efficient and effective, sharpened by years of performance. Anthemic headbangers like “Portland,” “All My Life, My Heart Has Yearned For A Thing I Cannot Name,” and “Malibu Beach House” sound as dynamic as they do dialled-in, soaked into the bones of the players. The lyrics camelast, written by Wainwright a week before recording. Moods of surreality (“I can hear the blood in my fingers / nothing tunes out / the world’s too loud”), infatuation (“I will follow / everywhere you go / any way to feel / how you glow”), and melancholy (“God kept me around / for no good reason”) flicker and fade within a fog of memory and reverb.

Since first splashing on to the Southern California circuit in the mid-aughts, Geneva Jacuzzi (née Garvin) quickly cemented herself as the queen of the Los Angeles underground. Her immersive and unhinged multimedia performances are the stuff of legend, a psychotropic gallery of masks, costumes, confrontation, and massive art installations. Jacuzzi’s recordings are equally revered, catchy hooks and cryptic moods dusted in 4-track grit. The arrival of her third official full-length, and Dais Records debut, is cause for such celebration. Triple Fire vividly expands and crystallizes Jacuzzi’s signature fusion of midnight melody and mutant aerobics across a 12-track hit parade of wildcard synth-pop and sly post-apocalyptic camp. Her enthusiasm for the album is as bold as her body of work: “Halfway through, we started calling this the record of the prophecy, the record that’s going to save mankind.”



Opener “Laps of Luxury” sets the template – a strobe-lit dreamer’s delight of swaggering synth bass, Haçienda drum machinery, and sultry vocal spellcasting (“Tragic mysteries I’ve known for centuries / I burned all memories and turned to fantasy”). The collection burns through shades of sardonic strut (“Art Is Dangerous,” “Nu2U,” “Keep It Secret”), coldwave kiss off (“Speed Of Light,” co-produced by Andrew Clinco of Drab Majesty), retro-futurist body music (“Dry,” “Scene Ballerina,” “Bow Tie Eater”), and cheeky glitterball pop (“Take It Or Leave It,” “Heart Full Of Poison” co-produced by Roderick Edens and Andrew Briggs). She likens the eclectic spectrum of moods to the continuum of human emotions: “Funny, sexy, sad, scary, witty, hopeful, menacing. Eventually it deconstructs, turns into a party, and then ends sweet and soft.”



Taken as a whole, Triple Fire comes as close as any document yet to capturing Jacuzzi’s kaleidoscopic alchemy of pop sugar and chaos energy, flickering between icy and ironic, chic and surreal, hungry and heartsick. Hers is a muse as rare as it is regenerative, forever reborn at the precipice of the next chorus: “Someone said that Alcatraz had fallen into the sea / Almost sounded like an angel calling me in a dream / I felt an electric shock when I picked up the microphone.”

Sumer Is Icumen In is Quentin Thirionet's (Dhavali Giri, Pairi Daeza) debut album. Still, his musical escapades are vast and varied, based almost entirely on improvisation and live recordings, of which he occasionally distributes tapes without further information. Elusive to categorization and identification, unwilling to fix his musical activity under a stable pseudonym, his projects have ranged from gypsy jazz guitar swings, French traditional songs from Auvergne, and various experimental collaborations. Increasingly closer to electronic instrumentation, he crafted what Belgian label KRAAK presents here as Maibaum, his first ever solo output. As the title goes, this may be a maypole on which his multicolored sonic visions spring about.

Former rope access worker and currently a farmer of organic greens, Thirionet lives up to these lines of work as a musician. He assembles precisely what seems like a subtle balance between high manmade structures and soft fertilized soils; a high voltage pylon placed in a biotic landscape. It's all an even blend, spontaneous and steady, but this contraption comes from profound considerations. "I chose these tracks among many others," says Quentin, "because I heard the melodies all the time in my mind, and because I cried while playing them without really understanding why."
Armed with nothing more than a blackbox, a sequencer, a freeze pedal, and a tape player, Thirionet orchestrates a vivid rite of polished futures. At times reminiscent of Hans-Joachim Roedelius' enveloping arrangements, Maibaum's ambiances rely on mild repetitive patterns subsequently textured by prickling sprouts, mechanic dislocations and revamps that stoke and brighten the stirring motions. Jim O'Rourke's I'm Happy and I'm Singing comes to mind in terms of its detailed and prismatic nature, but Sumer Is Incumen In has its particular narrative. It's a tale of regeneration, of spring's delicate procedures and allure, a celebration of gracious and fortunate junctions between nature and machinery.

The album unfolds like a massive engine being made flesh to drift along the ether of a sultry land. The terrain turns pleasant and fertile in the title track; the colors and melodies of May start to unravel. Chromatic columns rise and define the scenery's depth of field breeding a synesthetic stream between crystal lights and warbling organisms. Grande Albero Buono Magico Uoma's brisk kaleidoscopic arpeggios sound like scanning a tree's litmus foliage. Then Ciguri takes us back to the foggy swamp of the beginning but is suddenly lit by an insect’s labyrinthine roundabout. The Jeweled Grid is a poem Quanta Qualia's lustrous metallic voice recites as a report of the album's phenomena. "Shiny revelations jump out. Pearls of thought flicker about." Images from within that distill to swirl around among us. The thicket dissolves as the album concludes calmly in Le Concept De Chien N'aboie Pas. Swaying under sieved solar light, leaves and branches tingle until the winds grow weak. All the warm creatures gathered along the way, and all those who danced around the maypole's splendid equilibrium now withdraw, folding up small to foster rebirth once again.

José Badía Berner

Scottish experimental/electronic musician Drew McDowall's lifelong interest in an elegiac solo bagpipe style called pibroch (ceòl mòr in Gaelic) has been an inspiration for much of his previous work (including Coil's legendary Time Machines). This form, often traditionally used for laments and for tributes to the dead, fuses modal drones with flickering dissonance and plaintive melody evoking an ancient, solemn mood. His latest work, A Thread, Silvered and Trembling, both incorporates and transforms these elements via exploratory electronic processing, weaving an electro-acoustic tapestry of strings, shudders, voids, and voices, alternately disembodied and displaced. Co-produced with engineer Randall Dunn at Circular Ruin Studios in Brooklyn, the collection's four pieces capture McDowall at his most elevated and elusive, in thrall to "the ineffable - that which refuses to be spoken." McDowall's palette here is unusually eclectic, sourced from a dynamic orchestral ensemble arranged by Brent Arnold and comprised of cello, viola, violin, harp (Marilu Donovan of LEYA), and french horn. Ebbing between shrouded electronics and enigmatic, sometimes spectralist orchestration, the album moves with a seething, simmering energy, surging into elegant, uneasy crescendos. The first two pieces are inspired by a liberatory hijacking and inversion of a grim biblical story (and by a cryptic and strange UK simple syrup branding). Opener "Out of Strength Comes Sweetness" shivers with short echo and resonant pads, before shifting into the album's centerpiece: the 14-minute saga "And Lions Will Sing with Joy." A murmuring electrical storm of keening strings and disorienting drones gradually grows darker and denser, until suddenly there's a crack in the clouds, revealing mutated choral voices and sparkling harp. McDowall describes the track as "an incantation to help usher in a break, and a new beginning." The record's latter half evokes a deep untamed animism shot through with spiraling radiance. "In Wound and Water" sways with harp, plucked strings and eerie cello undertows while lush layers of disorientated electronics hang in the dusk. There is no resolution, only a faint gradient of fragile dissipation, leading into the album's harrowing and climactic closer, "A Dream of a Cartographic Membrane Dissolves." Processed voices (credited on the liner notes to "The Ghosts Who Refuse to Rest") contort, whisper, and gather as the rest of the ensemble sharpens, poising to strike. Then it does - grand, tragic stabs of strings and horns lashing the sky, storming heaven by force. The fallout is poetic and inevitable, raining embers into a dark sea. But the journey and catharsis of A Thread linger long after it goes silent. Like so much of McDowall's multifaceted catalog, this is music of immanence and alchemy, attuned equally to the sacred and the profane, to the tile and the mosaic.

Circling guitar lines; the rise of fall of delicate bass; deep, breathy horns: sonic elements that exist in a state of slow, perpetual motion, like ideas sprouting from some kind of cognitive compost. With wonder and charm, G. S. Schray's new solo album, Whispered Something Good, evokes a realm of new growth while offering a fitting soundtrack for its exploration, as if tailor made for both the daydreamer and silly adventurer.


We start in the darkness of "Unlit Center" with elliptical phrases of jazz guitar. A conversation between double bass, synthesiser, and piano plays out on "In Tears Twice A Page" before we're ushered into the reflective zone of "Another Haunted Mirror." There is synth mist which trumpet cuts through decisively like a shaft of light from the sun: warm and clear. As the album proceeds, firmer rhythms coalesce. On "Prelude for Probably," clattering drums lock into a triumphant groove with horns. And then, to close, the instrumental art-pop of "Gone in Amber," probing not necessarily towards a final destination but another stop-off, one of distant birdsong and the faintest flicker of synth. Intimate and inviting, the act of listening to Whispered Something Good is akin to digging through an imagination. It's a place of subliminal melodies blooming into rhizomatic musical shapes, stray musings coalescing as bolts of inspiration — change fostering yet more change.

"For A Fleeting Moment" is the result of the dialogue between the Swiss photographer Simone Kappeler and the Japanese musician Tomotsugu Nakamura initiated by IIKKI, between March 2023 and May 2024.

Tomotsugu Nakamura is a musician and graphic designer residing in Tokyo, Japan. His primary artistic practice is to compose music with some fragments of minimal acoustic and electronic tones and some field recordings. In Concert, he he has played with various genre of musicians and his works have been released by Kaico, Audiobulb Records, and more recently by the French label LAAPS.

Born in 1952 in Frauenfeld (Switzerland) where she lives and works, Simone Kappeler started taking pictures at the age of 11. After studying German literature and art history, she studied photography at the Zurich University of the Arts. During a three-month trip to the United States in 1981, she took her first pictures using cheap cameras, especially the Diana camera.
Hasselblad, Leica, Diana, Brownie, Polaroid, disposable camera, expired or infrared films, since 1970, Simone Kappeler has explored all types of photographic techniques. Her work, experimental and poetic, reveals to us the curiously foreign world that surrounds us.
Since 1982, ongoing projects in southern France and the Grisons.1982/83, studio in New York, conceptual photography and Super 8 films. 1983/84, theater photographer, Schauspielhaus Zürich. 2009, six-week photographic study of Japan, 2015 studio in New York. Her work was the subject of a first monograph: "Seile. Fluss. Nacht. Fotografien 1964–2011", edited by Hatje Cantz and is regularly exhibited in Galleries and Museum in Europe and United States.
For A Fleeting Moment is her first book gathered exclusively a part of her wide polaroid works from 2011 to 2023.

Fine Art Book, Ltd. to 700 copies:
Hardcover book printed on Glossy Modern Paper 170g/m2 // 104 pages, 19cm x 22.5cm, 66 photos // Front cover points and back cover logo embossed // Selective UV varnish // Hand-numbered.

2024 Repress

Electronic duo Atelier excel at riding chillwave to a cooler, moodier sound. Atelier was conceptualized by childhood friends Alexander Inggs and Jaś Miszewski whose love of analog synths, drum machines and effects pedals is revealed in a hardware-heavy live show. The project is a platform for combining their differing musical backgrounds – a blend of house, indie, folk and techno – and has an underlying maturity that emerges in their frank performances and honest productions.

2025 Repress

Macedonia's own Stojche is Fuse's next guest for the club's freshly made imprint. The long standing DJ and producer has been known to keep Detroit's playfully hybrid style as the focus of his work and 'Metaphor' is the case in point. His four tracks bounce through a nostalgic balance of techno, house, and more with a modern crisp. A refreshing take on club music, Stojche keeps techno's sometimes nonchalant attitude at arms length with a charismatic record that hits its mark with every measure.


The record's first track 'Counterpunch' features heavily lined percussion but still brews up a storm far and wide with resonant dub stabs and open hi hats. The drum machine boasts a full spectrum, rolling through a light show of melodic flashes, perfect for a room compressing soundsystem. The maximalist, vintage detail that Stojche brings to his compositions blurs the lines between classic genres in a time of hasty hybridization, which gives it a sort of authenticity that can't be taken for granted. 'Chordal Tribe', on the other hand, raises the general euphoria of the EP. Luring in the listener with bright pads and full-on drums, Stochje's work is reliable main slot material that adds color to any mix while providing a persuasive low end. Shimmering hi hats give it an ethereal quality making it an appropriate interlude for almost any context. Moving on to the B side, the producer sharpens up his rhythm and emphasizes the hardgroove influence in 'Signal Drive'. Softening the pace of his drums with free use of melodic chord stabs, Stojche opens up his dance floor for a crowd bonding record once again, complete with filter transitions and pummeling toms. As the final contribution, his title track 'Metaphor' begins with a more obscure opening to conclude his EP for Fuse. Leaning more to a techno cut, the record remains flamboyant as ever with open hats and rides shuffling through his arrangement. A muted main synth becomes apparent to focus the energy of the track while allowing for liveset-like drum flickering to take shape beneath, claiming the immortality of old club records with the technical precision of a seasoned modern producer.