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Pleasure, shame, and survival often arrive tangled together, indistinguishable in the moment. Camgirl, from Crippling Alcoholism, takes that entanglement as its starting point. Rather than separating desire from damage, the record allows them to coexist, tracing a path through obsession, performance, and persistence without offering clean resolution.
Camgirl is the 2025 breakthrough album from Boston’s Crippling Alcoholism, a record that frames pop immediacy against obsession, endurance, and collapse. Built from ear-wormy hooks and abrasive noise rock textures, the album smuggles grotesque and confrontational subject matter into songs that remain deliberately melodic. Pleasure and revulsion blend throughout, with choruses that linger even as the lyrics refuse comfort.

Released on September 12, 2025, Camgirl follows a loose narrative centered on a sex worker moving through cycles of exploitation and survival, treating intimacy as spectacle and visibility as threat. Songs flicker between desire and despair, confession and performance, flooded with artificial light. Despite its subject matter, the record resists nihilism. Its closing moments arrive quietly triumphant, not through escape or redemption, but through persistence itself.
Originally released on vinyl by Portrayal of Guilt Records, the first pressing of Camgirl sold out quickly. The Flenser reissue makes the album widely available for the first time, reaffirming it as a defining statement from a band operating at the intersection of pop form, noise, and lived experience.
Press Quotes

Camgirl proves that Crippling Alcoholism can evolve without losing their edge, and this record is a dark, irresistible bop. - Lambgoat
Elements of goth rock and melancholic vocals call back to loud rock while blending with an overall instrumental field brimming with energy. - Outside noise
Blurring the lines between outsider noise rock and dark glamorous synth-laden pop under a deceptively alluring glow… compulsively, squirmingly catchy. - The Progressive

The first resonant space Zosha Warpeha played in was the Emanuel Vigeland Museum in Oslo, Norway. Built as a mausoleum, its walls reach up into a gradual archway, creating an environment where sound expands and reverberates for twelve seconds before decaying into silence. Warpeha was greeted only by dim lights when she entered, and it wasn’t until she had spent several minutes listening that she was able to make out the frescoes that covered every inch of the room: graphic depictions of the cycle of life from conception through death. As the sound of her Hardanger d’amore encountered the walls and these slowly emerging scenes, they obscured its point of origin in both time and space, augmenting its own life cycle. The experience sat in the back of her mind over the next several years as she developed her own patient style of composition and performance, one that comes into full bloom on her new album I grow accustomed to the dark.

When Warpeha was selected as an artist in residence at Brooklyn’s ISSUE Project Room in 2025, she saw it as an opportunity to more intentionally explore how her music might fill a room with ample natural reverb. I grow accustomed to the dark documents two single-take solo performances for Hardanger d’amore and voice at IPR, with both pieces composed in a unique tuning system developed to interact with the space itself. Listeners can trace resonance from the contact of the bow on gut strings into the body of the instrument, its five sympathetic strings offering another layer of refraction, before the sound is thrown about the cavity of the room. The echoes emerge like a photographic double exposure, or wisps of smoke that linger in the air, creating ghostly harmonic convergences that blur the line between what is there and not-there. Sound begins to act like light, a synesthetic alchemy that transforms drones into beams and ornamental trills into flickers.

Both side-long compositions, “filament” and “visual purple,” exemplify a duality that animates Warpeha’s music: an expressive, individualistic style that draws on extensive knowledge of her instrument’s history in folk traditions, and an austere, devotional quality maintained by focus and precision. Though very different in character and structure, both pieces evolve slowly through numerous repetitive phrases, passages of stillness, and bursts of intensity. “filament” opens with a cycle of delicate melodic fragments played and sung around a drone before blossoming into an outpouring of swooping arpeggios, harmonics flying from the strings like sparks off a bonfire. The disorienting pulsation of harmonic beating forms the core of “visual purple,” the close-tone dissonance building to a swarm of open strings ringing boldly throughout the space. After the knotty tones reach their climax, the piece collapses into studied quietude, hushed, but without any drop in intensity.

When Warpeha first visited the Vigeland Museum in 2019, she was in Oslo to deepen her relationship to the Hardanger fiddle through the study of Norwegian traditional music, which is primarily passed down aurally. The experience of learning songs by ear, not only internalizing the tune but also absorbing the techniques and tonalities by listening, was a crucial step in her development as a composer. The years since have seen her sharpen those skills as a prolific member of the New York avant-garde and improvised music communities. Warpeha’s music encourages listeners to join her in this journey, to listen closely with each repeated phrase and through each dramatic shift. Like the frescoes on Vigeland’s walls, with time and intention, the depth of I grow accustomed to the dark comes on like a revelation.

Laurel Halo returns with an album of original soundtrack music, composed for the film Midnight Zone by visual artist Julian Charrière. Following the path of a drifting Fresnel lighthouse lens as it descends through the Clarion-Clipperton Fracture Zone — a remote abyssal plain in the Pacific Ocean, rich in rare metals and increasingly targeted for deep-sea mining — the film traces a descent into one of Earth’s last untouched ecosystems.


Charrière’s film reveals the deep not as void, but as a luminous biome teeming with fragile life: bioluminescent creatures, swirling schools of fish, and elusive predators. The suspended lens becomes an abyssal campfire, attracting species caught in the tides of uncertainty, their futures hanging in the balance.


Echoing this tension, Halo’s compositions evoke a sensory freefall, where gravity falters and light and sound flicker in uncertain rhythms. Midnight Zone is a sonic drift through the space between what we seek to extract, fail to understand, and must protect.


Halo’s score evokes the life that exists beyond our physical airbound capacity. The material features long, subtle passages of electro-acoustic ambient, drone and sound design, slowly flowing and unfolding with rich detail. The music, composed largely on a Montage 8 synthesizer and Yamaha TransAcoustic piano at the Yamaha studios in New York City, possesses an uncanny quality: that of synthetic waveforms being amplified and sung through the stringboard of the physical body of the TransAcoustic piano. Combined with stacks of violin and viol da gamba, the music on Midnight Zone possesses trace elements of a human hand in an otherwise sunken landscape. Patient, submerged, and alive. The album will be the third on Halo’s imprint, Awe.


The film is central to Charrière’s current solo exhibition Midnight Zone. The exhibition engages with underwater ecologies, exploring the complexity of water as an elemental medium affected by anthropogenic degradation. Reflecting upon its flow and materiality, profundity and politics, its mundane and sacral dimensions, the solo show acts as a kaleidoscope, inviting us to dive deep.

A.Wild plots the course.

Goes Without Saying.

4 intricate signals for late-night movement. Remix from Eversines.

Club Blanco steps into a more finely wired zone with CBR004, a tightly detailed transmission from young Bristol producer A.Wild – a record that reveals itself slowly, layer by layer, like a signal sharpening in real time.

Still anchored with a raw, restless pull, A.Wild works with a more intricate palette here: interlocking rhythms, delicate textural shifts, and micro-melodic flickers that shimmer beneath weighty, rolling low end. These are tracks that breathe, evolve, and reward close listening just as much as late-night movement.

If previous releases moved through the static in broad strokes, CBR004 traces its own circuitry — precise, hypnotic, and quietly complex – mapping new routes through the Club Blanco continuum.

Danish bassist and composer Jesper Thorn has become one of Scandinavia s most distinctive musical voices, known for blending introspective storytelling with the understated lyricism of Nordic jazz. His award award-winning albums Boy and Dragor earned international praise for their emotional honesty and cinematic depth, establishing a sound world where fragility, melancholy, and quiet beauty intertwine. A deeply personal meditation on the search for calm, connection, and meaning in a world that often feels overwhelming, the album continues his exploration of sound as refuge, a place to pause, reflect, and breathe. Joined by long long-term collaborators Marc Méan (piano), Andreas Bernitt (violin), Cecilie Strange (saxophone), and Maj Berit Guassora (trumpet), Thorn reunites with producer Mette Damm and engineer August Wanngren to craft an atmosphere both intimate and expansive. Where 2023" s Dragor confronted the ghosts of Thorn s past, STILLE (meaning quiet " or silent " in Danish) looks outward - and inward - toward reflection. For me, music has always been a refuge, Thorn writes. It s a place where I can reflect and immerse myself - both as a listener and, maybe even more, as a composer. Each composition functions as a kind of musical still image : fragments of emotion captured in time, responding to both the chaos and fragile beauty of the modern world. From the flickering calm of Fragmentarium , to the urgent, primal fear of Run (written as wildfires swept through California) to the tender domestic peace of Stilleben , these pieces balance melancholy and hope in equal measure. Thorn s writing continues to thrive on collaboration and trust. Such is Fate emerged from a discarded melodic fragment, reimagined through the expressive playing of Bernitt on violin. Recover and Rebuild form a quiet hymn to resilience, with Guassora and Strange lending understated, breath breath-like power to the ensemble. The closing track, Shimmering (for MM) MM), is dedicated to pianist Marc Méan, a constant presence in Thorn s projects since 2014 and, as Thorn puts it, the touch and sound I hear in my head when I compose ". I wanted to create a space that feels like silence, peace and quiet in a noisy world that often moves faster than it feels possible to keep up with. says Thorn.

A chance meeting in Mexico City set Points of Inaccessibility into motion. When Ibero-American composer Rafael Anton Irisarri crossed paths with Dutch media artist Jaco Schilp at MUTEK in 2024, a conversation about how technology shapes perception revealed an unexpected common ground. Schilp invited Irisarri to a spring 2025 residency at Uncloud, the Utrecht-based collective he co-founded, where Irisarri's sound began to take form amid an environment shaped by Schilp’s visual research.

The Uncloud studio was located inside the former Pieter Baan Centre, a forensic psychiatric prison where suspects of violent crimes were once confined. Its long history of silence and containment shaped the atmosphere in which the project developed. Within this setting, Irisarri coaxed long bowed-guitar tones through a network of pedals and looping systems. The raw gestures thickened into a vaporous and architectural field of sound. Schilp processed the material through a custom point-cloud software patch that produced images in continuous flux. The visuals flickered, dissolved and reformed like memories that resist coherence, functioning as a digital Rorschach that reflected the observer’s own perception.

Amid these spectral echoes, the project evolved into an examination of how the past persists within present signals. Memory endures as residue and interference, continually shaping perception even when its source has faded.

Schilp’s visual process required a continuous stream of sound in real time. Irisarri improvised throughout the residency, generating material that allowed the visuals to develop in parallel. Once back in his New York studio, he began shaping the recordings by carving pathways through the improvisations and mapping selected passages into MIDI. This process allowed him to build outward from the bowed-guitar material with minimal overdubs, adding Prophet 5 textures, Moog bass and strings that expanded the harmonic field while keeping the original performances at the center. To refine the structure, Abul Mogard provided editorial input, working with Irisarri’s stems to guide transitions and strengthen the overall pacing. The material, originally created under conditions of immediacy and constraint, evolved into a fully realized work through careful revision, patience and sustained reworking.

The title engages the geographic concept of the Poles of Inaccessibility, locations defined solely by their distance from all surrounding points. Irisarri adapts this idea to the conditions of digital life, where new forms of inaccessibility arise through the informational enclosures that structure perception. What appears to be a fully connected network often produces a deeper kind of separation, one shaped by the filtering logic of the systems that mediate experience. In this sense, the digital sphere mirrors its geographic counterpart. We inhabit spaces saturated with signals, yet the possibility of genuine contact becomes increasingly remote.

At its core, Points of Inaccessibility considers what can be understood as the new rituals of capitalist realism. Irisarri uses the term digital shamanism to describe the forms of simulated connection that organize contemporary life. These systems promise comfort through algorithms, influencers and AI interlocutors, yet they often reproduce the same conditions that generate loneliness in the first place. What appears as connection becomes the echo of connection, a sequence of gestures that imitate solidarity while withholding it. Like the geographic poles, these rituals are defined by distance. They pull us into environments where everything is illuminated, yet meaningful proximity becomes increasingly rare. In this sense, the work approaches a hauntology of the present, a reflection on futures that have stalled and intimacies that have been thinned by the algorithmic infrastructures that surround us.

This thematic tension unfolds across the album’s four movements. Faded Ghosts of Clouds introduces the work with textures that rise and dissipate in slow cycles, creating an atmosphere that resists clear definition. Breaking the Unison occupies a pivotal position in the sequence and focuses on the moment when the individual and the system fall out of alignment. Its shifting patterns trace the scattering of signals that once suggested connection, revealing the instability at the heart of contemporary perception. Signals from a Distant Afterglow forms the center of the album and features vocals by Karen Vogt, whose presence enters the sound field like a fragile transmission shaped by distance and delay. The closing piece, Memory Strands, follows motifs that appear, recede and briefly intersect before returning to quiet. Across these movements, the album outlines a landscape in which emergence and disappearance continually inform one another.

Listening to Points of Inaccessibility is an encounter with a sound field that is constantly in flux. Elements surface briefly, shift position and recede, creating a sense of motion that resists stable interpretation. The music moves between closeness and vastness, carrying traces of memory while withholding a clear point of resolution.

The album’s visual identity completes the project’s conceptual arc. In Mexico City, where Irisarri and Schilp first met, Daniel Castrejón transformed stills from Schilp’s point-cloud visuals into the cover image. The final artwork captures a single suspended frame of the digital material, a moment extracted from a field that is normally in constant motion. Its surface recalls the texture and abstraction found in the work of Catalan artist Antoni Tàpies, where material presence and erasure coexist within the same plane.

What emerges is a work that examines the tension between technological systems and human presence. Points of Inaccessibility asks whether connection is still possible within environments shaped by mediation and delay, or whether we have become isolated points within the very networks that promise proximity. What possibilities for relation persist within environments organized by algorithms and interruption? And how are we meant to understand presence when so much of it is constructed at a distance?

Points of Inaccessibility will be released on BioVinyl on February 6, 2026, with audiovisual performances planned throughout 2026.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu
Artwork by Jaco Schilp
Design and layout by Daniel Castrejón
Artist photo by Iulia Alexandra Magheru.

Stoop Kid is the jangly indie rock project of Diest-born Jens Rubens. After Camp Careful (2021) and Mount Cope (2023), Stoop Kid returns with his third full-length album Office Overdue, a ten-song collection that captures the quiet fatigue, flickering humor, and
fragile hope of keeping it together in a world that won't slow down.

'Office Overdue' is a collection of songs Jens made at home in his modest home studio. For this album, he wanted to let go of pressure and expectations more than ever, and only work on music when he genuinely felt like it.No fancy studio, no producer, just walking upstairs and messing around. The result doesn't always sound perfectly polished: the drums are sometimes clumsily programmed and more than a few wrong notes made it onto the record. The guitars were allowed to hit a bit harder this time, with the '90s slacker vibes coming through more prominently. The result is a record that feels raw and honest, and above all, was made purely out of enthusiasm.

Office Overdue explores the attempt to keep functioning in everyday life while the world around us feels on the verge of collapse. The songs move between mental exhaustion and self-reflection, carried by a dry, sometimes bitter humour that helps lighten the weight. The album focuses on repetition and routine, and on the tension between wanting to care for others and being trapped inside one's own head. Themes of anxiety, guilt and dissociation recur throughout, but are always accompanied by small moments of connection, gentle resistance and acceptance. Office Overdue embraces the mess, the doubt and the false notes, without drawing grand conclusions. Not everything is resolved, but the persistence remains.

Refracting beatifically through realities and mirages flickering along his aural parade route, Animal Collective"s Geologist rides the high country on a hurdy gurdy of many colours. Via the mystery science of musical engagement, we take his sonic kaleidoscope of encounters into our own experience as we listen. That"s the beauty of Can I Get a Pack of Camel Lights?, the debut solo transmission of the heart and soul and life and times of Geologist.

Today Cork's acclaimed Cardinals announce their much-anticipated debut album 'Masquerade'. Set to land February 13th on tastemaker label So Young Records, the ten song album was recorded with producer Shrink at RAK Studios, London across the summer. It's a record that is at once grand and intimate, awash with romance and flickers of holy imagery, and most of all, it's an undeniable fulfilment of the innate promise the band have shown since their earliest beginnings. These are emotionally expansive songs, some simmering with an undercurrent of violence, cynicism or fervent discontent (Anhedonia, The Burning of Cork, Barbed Wire) and others gleaming with a bright-eyed vulnerability. A vivid first half contrasts a darker second and crafts a record with a clear A-side and B-side. A nod to the band’s collective love of vinyl, that tonal shift takes its cue from a variety of expected and unexpected influences - from the brittle honesty of folk to the theatrical melodrama of goth-rock. Formats and Quantities

Ascension marks the Manjumasi debut of Brazilian producer Canavezzi, distilling the label’s trademark quirky sophistication through a distinctly South American lens. The EP drifts between deep house, dub-soaked textures, micro-details and tech-driven grooves, always subtle, never obvious.
Across the record, Canavezzi works in tiny movements: flickers of percussion, vapor-trail chords and basslines that feel less “written” and more sculpted over time. Nothing shouts, everything glows. It’s the kind of sound that sneaks into a warm-up set and is still echoing in your head when the lights come on.
True to the San Francisco imprint’s ethos of deep, complex, melodic grooves with a playful twist, Ascension is built for dancers and listeners alike, equally at home on a smoky after-hours floor, a rooftop at sunrise or late-night headphones.
A thoughtful slice of contemporary house from Brasil to Manjumasi, Ascension is less about peak-time fireworks and more about that slow, undeniable lift: a steady climb into its own hypnotic orbit.

2024 repress

In February 2021, Jan Jelinek's seminal album "Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records" turned 20. The anniversary repress, a double LP with two bonus tracks (B-sides from the Tendency EP, 2000), is a little late to the party.
What the press said about Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records:
“Don’t be misled by the title, though for there isn’t a finger-snapping rhythm c bebop lead anywhere on the album. Instead, Jelinek chooses to explore the visual effect moiré - two shifting patterns creating an implied third dimension - in the audio realm.” (Alternative Press)
“The title acts as explanation for the studio technique that provided the basis for this album, snippets of other people’s arrangements deconstructed through a sampler into loops and then splashed onto an audio canvas.” (ATM)
“Jelinek’s sound evolved out of his dislike for (and inability to play) keyboards.” (RPM)
“Jelinek has abstracted his sources beyond recognition, looping his millisecond samples into flickering patterns of sonic moiré laid atop a dub Techno framework. (...) Jelinek might as well have sampled a horn player’s hissing intake of breath – it would have been ‘jazz’ enough for his purposes.“ (The Wire)
“It’s a perfect inversion of conventional music, a sonic negative. Everything that would typically be foreground is moved back or pushed off the screen altogether, and the flecks of sonic debris that would normally be covered by other sounds are left to carry the melody and rhythm.” (Pitchfork)
“All you need to know is that these onomatopoeic non-specific songs (...) are warm, paradisical creations”. (NME)
“Listen carefully and you’ll hear textures slowly unfolding and mutating. Presuming you’ve not fallen asleep of course.” (iDJ)
“At times, it’s all a bit dripping tap Japanese water torture; so sedentary it drowns in its own motionlessness” (DJ)
“Loop Finding Jazz Records' is a genuine modern classic whose re-release is anything but a cynical mortgage repayment exercise. Consider this a second chance, then pretend you had it all along.” (Boomkat)
PS:
“I’ve been fortunate enough to see Jan Jelinek live once, at Tonic NYC (...). Wearing a black and white striped shirt, he looked like a nihilistic Charlie Brown.” (beachsloth)

Pelican war schon immer eine Band, die nicht nur aus Chicago kommt, sondern echt typisch für Chicago ist. Gegründet im Jahr 2000 von den Gitarristen Trevor Shelley de Brauw und Laurent Schroeder-Lebec zusammen mit den Brüdern Bryan und Larry Herweg am Bass und Schlagzeug, hat Pelican seine Wurzeln in der regel- und genreunabhängigen Szene, die man mit dem Fireside Bowl verbindet. Nachdem Schroeder-Lebec nach dem Weggang von Dallas Thomas im Jahr 2022 zur Band zurückgekehrt war, konnte Pelican in dieser wiedervereinigten Besetzung an den Geist ihrer Gründungszeit anknüpfen und mit ihrem 2025 erschienenen Album Flickering Resonance" etwas ganz Neues schaffen. Das Album ist bereits in der dritten Vinyl-Auflage. Sowohl neue als auch alte Fans stöbern wieder im Pelican-Katalog, was auch zu zusätzlichen Neupressungen und Wiederveröffentlichungen ihrer beliebtesten Titel geführt hat. Mit drei Vinyl-Neupressungen allein im ersten Jahr und mehreren Tourneen in den USA und Europa zur Unterstützung des Albums hat Pelican nun eine EP mit vier Titeln aus der Flickering Resonance"-Ära als neue 12"-EP Ascending" neu aufgelegt. Pelican-Fans werden die letzten beiden Tracks Adrift" und Tending the Embers" wiedererkennen, die 2024 digital selbst veröffentlicht wurden und nur auf einer limitierten Anzahl von Kassetten erhältlich waren. Diese 12"-Platte enthält auch eine Gesangsversion der Lead-Single Cascading Crescent" von Flickering Resonance mit Geoff Rickly von Thursday. Diese Version des Tracks war bisher nur auf einer limitierten Anzahl von 7"-Singles erhältlich, sodass sie nun zum ersten Mal digital veröffentlicht und auch in physischer Form allgemein verfügbar ist. Der Titeltrack der EP, Ascending", wurde etwa zur gleichen Zeit wie Flickering Resonance aufgenommen, aber nicht auf dem Album veröffentlicht, da er eher wie ein eigenständiges Werk wirkt. Die Zusammenführung dieser vier Tracks auf einer EP unterstreicht einmal mehr, dass Pelicans regelwidriger Ansatz der Kern dessen ist, was Pelican zu einer festen Größe in allen Genres macht, die sie erkunden.

Pelican war schon immer eine Band, die nicht nur aus Chicago kommt, sondern echt typisch für Chicago ist. Gegründet im Jahr 2000 von den Gitarristen Trevor Shelley de Brauw und Laurent Schroeder-Lebec zusammen mit den Brüdern Bryan und Larry Herweg am Bass und Schlagzeug, hat Pelican seine Wurzeln in der regel- und genreunabhängigen Szene, die man mit dem Fireside Bowl verbindet. Nachdem Schroeder-Lebec nach dem Weggang von Dallas Thomas im Jahr 2022 zur Band zurückgekehrt war, konnte Pelican in dieser wiedervereinigten Besetzung an den Geist ihrer Gründungszeit anknüpfen und mit ihrem 2025 erschienenen Album Flickering Resonance" etwas ganz Neues schaffen. Das Album ist bereits in der dritten Vinyl-Auflage. Sowohl neue als auch alte Fans stöbern wieder im Pelican-Katalog, was auch zu zusätzlichen Neupressungen und Wiederveröffentlichungen ihrer beliebtesten Titel geführt hat. Mit drei Vinyl-Neupressungen allein im ersten Jahr und mehreren Tourneen in den USA und Europa zur Unterstützung des Albums hat Pelican nun eine EP mit vier Titeln aus der Flickering Resonance"-Ära als neue 12"-EP Ascending" neu aufgelegt. Pelican-Fans werden die letzten beiden Tracks Adrift" und Tending the Embers" wiedererkennen, die 2024 digital selbst veröffentlicht wurden und nur auf einer limitierten Anzahl von Kassetten erhältlich waren. Diese 12"-Platte enthält auch eine Gesangsversion der Lead-Single Cascading Crescent" von Flickering Resonance mit Geoff Rickly von Thursday. Diese Version des Tracks war bisher nur auf einer limitierten Anzahl von 7"-Singles erhältlich, sodass sie nun zum ersten Mal digital veröffentlicht und auch in physischer Form allgemein verfügbar ist. Der Titeltrack der EP, Ascending", wurde etwa zur gleichen Zeit wie Flickering Resonance aufgenommen, aber nicht auf dem Album veröffentlicht, da er eher wie ein eigenständiges Werk wirkt. Die Zusammenführung dieser vier Tracks auf einer EP unterstreicht einmal mehr, dass Pelicans regelwidriger Ansatz der Kern dessen ist, was Pelican zu einer festen Größe in allen Genres macht, die sie erkunden.

Having taken their name from a line in Hooray For Hollywood – inspired by the song’s jarring use in Robert Altman’s Philip Marlowe detective movie The Long Goodbye – there is an aptly cinematic quality to Any Young Mechanic’s music.
With intricate scenes, enthralling narratives and unique characters cropping up across the lyrics, and a kaleidoscopic yet coherently interwoven spectrum of moods and emotions stretching through the music, the Adelaide five-piece bring a fresh language to folk music’s natural propensity to spin a good yarn.
So rather than offering borrowed references illuminated by the cosy flickers of campfire flames, on their debut album The Modern Shoe Is Ruining The Foot, the Australian band’s urgent songs conjure up vivid, widescreen vistas that blend the genre’s enduring charms with a musical dexterity and sharp vision reaching beyond folk’s usual corners.
“We are trying to make folk music for now,” suggests frontman Sam Wilson. “Turning it on its head in a new, sometimes uncanny way, because we don't want to just do the old thing again. I don't think it’s interesting to make things again, so we’re searching for a contemporary edge.”
The roots of this original yet inclusive approach, in part, go back to the Adelaide music scene that helped to forge Any Young Mechanic.

"Eau" is the lovely new album from aus, the solo project of Tokyo-born composer and producer Yasuhiko Fukuzono, who has gained attention, in Japan and overseas, for his thoughtfully paced and sensitively skillful music as well as his intriguing sound design for exhibitions and experimental cinema. Having worked primarily with keyboards and electronic sound up to this point, "Eau" is a slight yet fascinating shift for aus; the album, while still primarily an electronic work, revolves around the sonic world of a stringed acoustic sound source, the koto, that most characteristically Japanese of musical instruments. The very accomplished Eden Okuno provides the delicate-yet-rich koto sounds on offer here; Fukuzono, in the liner notes, acknowledges the importance of Okuno's artistry to the project.

The compositions on the album are designed to balance the sound of the koto, with its subtly variable attack and flickering resonance, with the timbre of other instruments. The delicate decay and metrical flexibility of the koto is enveloped by sustained synthesizer sounds and contrapuntally constructed piano melodies, creating a flowing ambience with absorbing undercurrents, a languid and liquid quality that reveals the suitability of the title.

Avid fans of contemporary Japanese music might hear the influence of pioneering works such as the the 1979 Hiroshi Yoshimura composition "Clouds for Alma", realized by koto player Tadao Sawai, and the 1993 album "Koto Vortex I: Works by Hiroshi Yoshimura" which featured performances of Yoshimura's works by the Japanese koto quartet Koto Vortex. These works attempted to remove the koto from its traditional context and place it within the context of ambient and techno. "Eau" is available on CD/LP/cassette/digital, with E/J liner notes by aus. "Eau" is the first collaborative release by EM Records and FLAU, the label run by Yasuhiko Fukuzono (aus).

“There's a clarity here that feels hard-won. Honing ideas first explored with his Organic Music series, Tiago Sousa unlocks the final puzzle pieces on Sustained Tones Vol 1. This music is enchanted, the way each layer moves in conjunction with the others: complex structures that feel less constructed than discovered, like stumbling upon ancient mechanisms still whirring beneath the earth. "Readily Reliance" opens as an effervescent sea, waves gilded in neon creating an enveloping sense of eternal motion. Bright organ timbres throw silhouettes and cast Sousa as the deft puppeteer keeping everything moving with an effortless precision. These evolving shapes suspend listeners somewhere between the physical and the cosmic, held in place by nothing but intention and sound.

Drones build rippling foundations in other places, using slower tempos to construct immersive, off-kilter sound worlds where minimalism becomes emotive, almost poignant. The fluctuating tones have a gossamer sheen, creating this interesting sonic dichotomy: a solid surface with fragile rotations beneath. It's music that commands attention; it is so much more than simply aural furniture. Sousa writes these beautiful sequences that are all interconnected, intricate sonic architecture that pulls us further into some kind of unknowable ether.

On the piano pieces, "Smooth Flow Into It" and "Swirling Mist and Thin Dust," Sousa shines sunlight through all the cracks. Washes of melody are effervescent, clouds clearing to reveal the day has not gone. Not yet. Positioned in the middle of Sustained Tones Vol 1, these pieces ground the album in something transcendent yet still earthen: moments of breath inside all that cosmic drift. Darkness finds its way through on "Restlessness," where Sousa smears sinuous electronics into a ghostly sonic mesh that seeps through the skin. It feels like a slow inhale, time suspended long enough to take note of where we are and how we feel before moving forward. Expressive, almost sparkling synth arrangements return to send us back into reality on closer "Becoming a Landscape." Its title hints at larger concepts at play throughout this album, where lines between our physical beings and the wider environment are blurred. The tones that echo throughout these six pieces mirror the echoes inside our bodies, from heartbeats and voices to something quieter, something much smaller and more elemental. By immersing us inside these mesmerising, beautiful soundscapes, Sousa immerses us within ourselves.’’

Brad Rose, 2025

Limited to 250 copies !

The Deadheads had never had much luck with spaceships. Their first mission had ended in a catastrophic engine failure, leaving them adrift in deep space for weeks. This time, their craft was hardly more reassuring. A hodgepodge of outdated technology and shoddy repairs made it more of a floating death trap than a reliable cruiser. As they began their descent toward the strange planet, the hull creaked and rattled, sending a wave of dread through the crew.

"Hold on," Matt's voice crackled over the intercom, without much conviction, as if he himself doubted they would make it out alive. Outside, a thick, grayish atmosphere swirled ominously, while the planet's gravity became far stronger than anticipated.

“Fuck, we’re gonna burn at the entrance!” M yelled, his hands flailing on the console as sparks flew from the control panel. The ship’s sensors were completely jammed, and the navigation system flickered intermittently, like a dying light. Below, the planet’s surface was a tangle of lava rivers and jagged rock formations, the kind of place no sane person would ever land. But the Deadheads had never pretended to be. They lived in a state of constant emergency.

As the descent intensified, the alarms blared. On the bridge, the screens lit up with red warnings and flashing messages: "SYSTEM ERROR," "UNSTABLE TRAJECTORY," "SUIVITY SYSTEM COMPROMISED." The lines of code scrolled by too quickly to be read, while a mechanical voice repeated relentlessly: "Imminent impact. Structural integrity at twenty percent."

The once pristine shell of the vessel began to disintegrate, with shards of metal breaking away and disappearing into the atmosphere.

With a final, piercing screech, the ship crashed onto the planet's surface, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. The crew was violently thrown from their seats, stunned but barely alive. They struggled to their feet amidst the wreckage, the ship reduced to a charred shell around them.

"Well," M said, wiping the dirt off his suit with a grimace, "at least the air is breathable." Matt scanned the hostile expanse stretching before them and smiled slightly. "Perfect. Let's hope we have better luck with the planet than with our ships."

With that, the Deadheads gathered their equipment and headed into the unknown, while the remains of their ship slowly sank into the unstable soil of the planet.