Buscar:flower power

A white convertible drives off into the sunset to the sound of Save you ft. Surahn and its funky, dance-inducing mantra, the first single to herald this road trip to the edge of space. Whether on cathartic beaches (Breath) or a desolate landscape: First Wave, Shades of Black, Who am I, Stars or Ghosts and its conquering lasers, Peter's music transports us into a cinematic world
(Night Road), where the synth-pop of M83 would have fused with the pop-rock of Supertramp and Fleetwood Mac (Burning House ft. Goldilox). A radiant production, wrapped in folk strumming, orchestrated by strings and keyboards with multicoloured diodes. A record that draws on the roots of timeless songwriting, enhanced by a modern, demanding electronic sound. The voice of Surahn (Empire of the Sun) returns to close the album with Open Your Mind and its flower power adlib: the closing credits of this first opus.

Geneva-based duo Bound By Endogamy delivers a heavy blend of rave, synth-punk, and industrial music. Shlomo Balexert and Kleio Thomaïdes are both prominent figures in the local squat and punk scene, having been involved in numerous projects over the past decade.

Following several cassette releases and a remarkable debut 7'' on Lux Records, the band presents a self-titled album that combines raw, growling basslines, crisp analog rhythms, and passionate vocals ranging from breathy to fiercely cutting.

On stage, the project consists of drums, a sampler, and vocals. Shlomo handles the drums alongside sharp synthesizers, while Kleio delivers powerful vocals reminiscent of a professional boxer. Expect a fusion of DAF and Kleenex with a hardcore edge

"Flower power psych pop that’ll blow you away! Exploring the jangly folk and garage sounds of the late ‘60s, the Superfine Dandelion picks a wide variety of colorful folk, country and jug band influences and puts a psychedelic tint on their all-original compositions. Our favored stereo mix, pressed on blue vinyl!

Formed in 1967, this Phoenix, AZ band would only last for a year before parting ways, leaving behind just one album – a fate many Mainstream artists ultimately faced, no matter how quality their style and sound was. The Superfine Dandelion features Mike McFadden (formerly of the garage rockin’ Mile Ends) and Rick Anderson (founding member of the Tubes) showcasing the sound of the Summer of Love – kaleidoscopic, sunny & groovy!

“While the cheeriest cuts have the sunny folk-pop/rock feel of, say, some of the L.A. folk-rock issued by the Dunhill label (‘Don't Try to Call Me’ recalls P.F. Sloan) or the Monkees, their self-titled LP had a good deal of sub-Jefferson Airplane folk-psych-rock, with plenty of minor chords, harmonies, and wistful lyrics. Then ‘Janie's Tomb’ and ‘It's Raining’ have a jokey jug band vibe, like a cross between the Charlatans and the Lovin' Spoonful.” – Richie Unterberger (AllMusic)"

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Amazing garage punk cult band featured on the "Brazilian Nuggets" Vol 1 and Vol 2 compilations. Recorded in 1968, this EP is almost impossible to find and has never been sold on Discogs. It comes with a 12-page booklet with liner notes, photos and memorabilia. This release is a collaboration between Discos Nada, Fatiado and Munster Records. The Beggers were formed in the industrial ABC Paulista region, the birthplace of the Brazilian punk rock scene. But many years before that, The Beggers were already a kind of proto-punk act, as can be heard on the first track of this 7" record, 'Estes Homens Farrapos', a rather unusual social commentary song in those flower power days. Considered a protest song, it ended up being censored. However, the most psychedelic and experimental track is 'We're Going, to Aid You', a song about a fictional alien invasion. The creepy effects created by the group in the studio can be compared to those by the greatest international bands of the time. The Beggers only had three original compositions and a fourth one was missing to complete the EP. This was how 'We're Going, to Aid You' was eventually created as an experiment in the studio, just to complete the record. With "Metamorfose" banned from the shops, the members of The Beggers were running out of money, and without any gigs they had no other choice but to break up the band shortly after the release of their mighty EP. Bento Araujo (author of the book series Lindo Sonho Delirante) An amazing example of genuine teenage garage rock from 60s Brazil reissued for the first time, as result of a collaboration between Discos Nada, Fatiado and Munster Records.

Repetitive actions, looping in your head forever. Forever? Never. Zero is endless. All flowers and fades. No permanence is ours. We are a wave, that flows to fit. And yet, “Music for a film”, a cassette tape by Swedish artists Sofie Herner aka Leda, inheres the power for perpetuity. A circulating dreamland, built on loop pedals, guitar, and tape manipulation.

The Malmö based artist, who is already famed in the global experimental, improvisational, lo-fi noise underworld for her own musical creations as well as being part of bands and projects like Enhet För Fri Musik, Källarbarnen, or Neutral, brings music made for the film “Dödfött“ - an interactive flick by director Niklas Hansson about failed online karate and caducity, screened with a stage art performance at Hypnos Theatre, Malmö, in early autumn 2022. Cinematic sounds for all the Velvets, that never awaken from their first DIY Super 8 dream.

Colorful, yet monochrome electrified and acoustic guitar melodies, monotonous, working like drones, getting all stranded in the zones. Six minimal compositions. Full of plenty, always friendly. Heavy, calm, dreamy, shredding, scratching, created for the woman of the world. And all other creatures, that seek features in unbroken repetition. As nobody keeps any of what he has, one day the eternal veil of forgetfulness will warp us all. Until that hour we dance in circles. Making karate moves, sidestepping caducity, reenacting ourselves, endless at the edges, through night and day, craving form that binds. As form is emptiness, emptiness is form itself. Welcome to the world of Leda, riff, 7/4, loop, the young, the middle aged, the old…

Tape is hand-stamped along the top, in printed card housing, with

Soul To Burn features highly inventive and memorable avant-rock songs by trio of celebrated musicians, Reciprocate. The germ of the notion that would flower into Soul To Burn came when Reciprocate’s vocalist/guitarist Stef Kett reflected on the idea of funk rock. It ought, he thought to himself, be the best of genres but so often in practice it ends up being the poorest. True enough. Kett decided to approach the problem from a fresh angle, multiple fresh angles, grinding angles, creating an “alt-soul” in which the soul gets to stretch and burn, applied with the power of a rock’n’roll trio but dynamism and agility, rather than cumbersome bulkiness. Reciprocate is a super-group made up of highly celebrated musicians from the UK DIY music scene – their singular, searing-hot power conjured by Stef Kett (Shield Your Eyes) in tandem with drummer Henri Grimes (Shield Your Eyes, Big Lad) and Marion Andrau (The Wharves, Underground Railroad) on bass. The result is the excellent Soul To Burn, which proceeds at a cadence all of its own, halting and blasting, ducking and weaving, zooming away from its distant cousins: Taste era Rory Gallagher or Mr Zoot Horn Rollo of Captain Beefheart’s Magic Band. That’s particularly evident on “Self Regarding Floor Sweepings”, with echoes of “When Big Joan Sets Up” from Beefheart’s Trout Mask Replica, especially with Kett’s added harmonica as the trio hit the winding dirt track, slaloming and swerving. Here is an album of full throttle soul, an avant-rock made up of ear worms so intoxicating they borrow from deep in the mind down deeper into the heart – it’s the cool, weighty groove of Tony Joe White leathering it at full throttle, fuelled by virtuosic back beats that remind of somewhere between the rolling rock of Mitch Mitchell and the fractured noisebeat of Lightning Bolt’s Brian Chippendale: immediate, innovative, virtuosic, exhilarating. Key to the impact of Soul To Burn is Grimes’ drumming, a force unto itself, which sometimes feels like it’s engaged in a creative and playful tussle with Kett’s virtuosic vibrato guitar. Take “Rhodia”, which sounds initially like a radical reworking, an anagram of Free’s “All Right Now”, on which Grimes doesn’t so much hit the groove as hammer it into the ground. Reciprocate tend to be averse to mere repetition, too full as they are of ideas, possibilities. But they know how to hit a riff, as on “Pissed Hymn”. Kett’s vocals are unconventionally impassioned - no vibrato or performative hollering. Rather they climb, up and and again up from the pit of the soul. There’s a sense throughout that this music is hard wrought, squeezed through small apertures, produced against the odds, born to trouble as the sparks fly upwards. There are quieter moments, however, such as the exquisitely beautiful “Ressypressocate”, which affirm the ultimately tender place from where this album proceeds, notes plucked like black flowers, twisted and cherished. Reciprocate demonstrate an astonishing virtuosity, nuance and musical sensitivity manifested through their deep mutual understanding and synergetic interactions. There are moments of sync and camaraderie that remind of the very late Beatles, those rare moments during the Let It Be Era when they loosened up, reassumed their old understanding. But then Kett’s lets fly with a long, looming note and suddenly we’re somewhere else again. With Soul To Burn, Reciprocate set out their stall of intoxicating, super catchy good-time, big heart music – a human album delivering a human message of love and love lost. By the album’s end, you’ll feel pushed and pulled through the mill, wiped out, blissfully exhausted, strangely serene

With its tenth record from Fortunato Durutti Marinetti, Quindi continues to celebrate songwriting and storytelling framed by curious musicality. In keeping with the label's trajectory to date, this is an album which draws on a universal human sentimentality and presents it with an uncommon flair. In the case of Toronto-based Daniel Colussi, the man behind Eight Waves In Search Of An Ocean, his melancholic poetry cuts through with a clarity which calls to mind all-time greats from Anette Peacock through to Lou Reed and Leonard Cohen.
Turin-born Colussi has drifted through various bands, guises and styles over the past 20 years, but since settling into Fortunato Durutti Marinetti as a vehicle for his songs, he's found a strong expressive impetus which transcends genre to become entirely hinged on the power of his words and melodies. The first album under this alias was a 2020 cassette album, Desire, later pressed on vinyl due to demand in tandem with the release of 2022's Memory's Fool. On each record, Colussi has found distinct arrangements of players to set the mood, ranging from gently lilting art and folk rock through to orchestrated balladry, but Eight Waves In Search Of An Ocean widens the palette of Fortunato Durutti Marinetti to create an album in which each song feels like a tale unto itself.
Colussi's renewed approach is instantly apparent as album opener 'Lightning On A Sunny Day' unfurls, informed greatly by producer Sandro Perri's input pursuing a hybrid electro-organic sound. The addition of drum machines and synths to the musical palette bring with them the strong connotations of pop while the sax and violin sounds similarly smooth and silky, and one can't help but think of John Martyn's slide into the digital sound of Sapphire or Kraftwerk's bittersweet synthetic tenderness.
Within this sound, there's still space for the energy to fluctuate according to the whims of songs. 'The Flowers' turns inward with a soft-touch composition as delicate as the petals Colussi describes falling to the floor. 'Misfit Streams' and first single 'Clerk Of Oblivion' savour the fluid, luxuriant tone of fretless bass with all the 80s connotations intact. Colussi remains the central focus whatever happens around him, in possession of the kind of unforced charisma which drives a song deep into the listener's heart. It's at once entirely his own style and yet comforting and familiar. The lyrics might sweep you into the singer's inner world, similarly to the experience listening to late 60s Tim Buckley, or you might well inhale the mellow jazziness of the harmonic movement like you would Joni Mitchell on Hejira.
The emotional direction of each track is never linear - 'Smash Your Head Against The Wall' snarls its rhythm section before the strings sow their aching beauty to cool the song's temper, winding up as a track of distinct halves jabbing at each other. "I Need You More' leaves space for spiralling flute solos and strangely stiff, militaristic drum rolls in the midst of a sweet, slightly sad synth ballad, the final wave receding back into the tidal undulations of Colussi's unique exploration of his muse.
The artist himself dubs his musical expression as "poetic jazz rock" with a sideways glance - it's not exactly poetry, far from trad jazz and it doesn't really rock, yet the tag feels uncannily like it fits, just like the curious music it's used to describe.

Those familiar with the sound and style of the DIY scene in Chicago's Logan Square may be surprised to find out that it was the birthplace of psych pop quintet Lucille Furs. They are a little surprised themselves.

At the time it wasn't exactly the place to hear harmonies and harpsichords so much as songs about sniffing glue. This isn't to say they didn't like the raucous power of Magik Milk, on the contrary. But, as the people who would come to make up the band began to talk, it became clear that they wanted to make something different entirely. They wanted to make something with the heartbeat of sweaty city basement shows but with the unrestrained imagination of places and times where they had never been.

Bassist Patrick Tsotsos will tell you about the music of post-war Greece where his grandparents grew up. Guitarist Nick Dehmlow will tell you about the garage bands of LA. Drummer Brendan Peleo-Lazar can fill you in on a late 60s London studio session as though he was running the tape machine. Mellotron/organ player Constantine Hastalis can show you a record by some long-forgotten folk singer who writes so earnestly you won't forgive the world for forgetting it. Singer Trevor Newton Pritchett is unapologetic about what they borrow. "You might hear the Zombies for their kind of haunting and contemplative quality, the Kinks kind-of casual criticism, the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band for their distant romantic quality, Temples, Love, Diane Coffee, Charles Bradley or our Chicago people Post Animal, Jude Shuma and Whitney." Now that half of the band is located in Los Angeles you'll be likely to hear those influences, too.

And that's what becomes crystal clear when listening to the upcoming album Another Land. It's an immersive listen, the kind of record you can get lost in on a cross-country drive from the midwest to the west coast. A record with warm blood running through its veins. Music where thought can be abandoned.

The whole record is dressed up in surreal and esoteric terms, in exchange for being topical. Think Dylan lyrics from the late 60s. "Paint Euphrosyne Blue" is kind of a meta-level example of that. The song is a reference to the goddess of mirth, about the human need to adapt to the point of becoming unoriginal. It's about chasing Van Gogh's depression because it makes you feel like a better painter.

The album was written through September 2017 and was recorded following the release of the self-titled Lucille Furs album later that year. It was recorded direct to tape before being completed at Treehouse Records in Chicago.

For fans of: The Kinks, The Zombies, Love, West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The Byrds, The Beatles, Foxygen, Triptides, Temples, Mystic Braves, Levitation Room

Those familiar with the sound and style of the DIY scene in Chicago's Logan Square may be surprised to find out that it was the birthplace of psych pop quintet Lucille Furs. They are a little surprised themselves.

At the time it wasn't exactly the place to hear harmonies and harpsichords so much as songs about sniffing glue. This isn't to say they didn't like the raucous power of Magik Milk, on the contrary. But, as the people who would come to make up the band began to talk, it became clear that they wanted to make something different entirely. They wanted to make something with the heartbeat of sweaty city basement shows but with the unrestrained imagination of places and times where they had never been.

Bassist Patrick Tsotsos will tell you about the music of post-war Greece where his grandparents grew up. Guitarist Nick Dehmlow will tell you about the garage bands of LA. Drummer Brendan Peleo-Lazar can fill you in on a late 60s London studio session as though he was running the tape machine. Mellotron/organ player Constantine Hastalis can show you a record by some long-forgotten folk singer who writes so earnestly you won't forgive the world for forgetting it. Singer Trevor Newton Pritchett is unapologetic about what they borrow. "You might hear the Zombies for their kind of haunting and contemplative quality, the Kinks kind-of casual criticism, the West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band for their distant romantic quality, Temples, Love, Diane Coffee, Charles Bradley or our Chicago people Post Animal, Jude Shuma and Whitney." Now that half of the band is located in Los Angeles you'll be likely to hear those influences, too.

And that's what becomes crystal clear when listening to the upcoming album Another Land. It's an immersive listen, the kind of record you can get lost in on a cross-country drive from the midwest to the west coast. A record with warm blood running through its veins. Music where thought can be abandoned.

The whole record is dressed up in surreal and esoteric terms, in exchange for being topical. Think Dylan lyrics from the late 60s. "Paint Euphrosyne Blue" is kind of a meta-level example of that. The song is a reference to the goddess of mirth, about the human need to adapt to the point of becoming unoriginal. It's about chasing Van Gogh's depression because it makes you feel like a better painter.

The album was written through September 2017 and was recorded following the release of the self-titled Lucille Furs album later that year. It was recorded direct to tape before being completed at Treehouse Records in Chicago.

For fans of: The Kinks, The Zombies, Love, West Coast Pop Art Experimental Band, The Byrds, The Beatles, Foxygen, Triptides, Temples, Mystic Braves, Levitation Room

With Scream If You Don’t Exist, Richie Culver metamorphoses from outsider musician to underground fixture, feeling his way from the fringes towards a growing community of musicians that have gravitated towards his singular sound world. Building upon the stark catharsis of his previous dispatches, on his sophomore album the artist draws from grimdark drone, industrial noise, experimental hip-hop and UK rave to map out a space for himself, caught between genre and discipline. While on his debut, I Was Born By The Sea, Culver took a last glimpse back at his grey, salt-flecked past while struggling towards somewhere brighter, here, he documents the process of finding fresh waters, parsing through the complexity of inhabiting a more open and optimistic place while contending with the weight of his resolve, staring hard won self-acceptance in the face. The album’s title speaks to this creative and emotional work, serving both as the foundational paradox from which the artist’s new discordant sound emerges and as a call to action, a defiant cry in the face of existential angst.

Part of this process involves visiting familiar territory with renewed focus. Macabre opener ‘Hottest Day Of The Year’ signals an unpleasant memory with crow caw, queasy, gas leak ambience and dental drill whir as Culver recalls a life lived in nihilism: “Everything is just something that happened / Reductionism, muscles spasms, a mother’s first contraction.” Yet, on Scream If You Don’t Exist, Culver’s irresistible formula for ragged machine poetry is shot through with palpable urgency. No longer listless and despairing, he finds new intricacies for these compositions, tracing a stark interplay between crushing bass excavations and penetrating vocal clarity, a contrast picked out in the delicate threads of rhythmic pulse suggesting themselves in the blunt pressure and skittering creep of ‘Weakness’, on which Culver offers up vulnerability as a tentative solution to self-described emotional constipation: “Please do / Do take my kindness for weakness / For I am weak / And that is ok.” The amniotic soundscape of ‘YOLO (then u die)’ gives way to depth charge drone and unnerving machinic improvisations, like a noise show heard from deep in the Mariana trench, while on ‘Underground Flower’ the low-end fog lifts to reveal a brighter, colder scene. “Love me for who I could be / Not who I am,” he pleads, tending gently to his own tenacious bud.

Scream If You Don’t Exist gives us a glimpse of this flower in bloom. On the album’s cursed self-help tape title track stuttering loops of off-kilter keys and childlike repetition make light of the very real risk of disappearing all-together, a nervous breakdown rendered as a malfunctioning nursery rhyme. Paranoiac anthem ‘Say 4 Sure’ introduces bit-crushed boom-bap stomp, as though hammered out on a water-logged Game Boy, swarms of loose-wire noise sparking up against guttural grunts and ragged exhalations, while ‘On The Top’ enacts a seance for the hardcore spirit, with loops of rave piano and hiccuping vocal chops pirouetting through knackered samples, air raid sirens and the ghostly crash of breakbeat cymbals. As though in response to the solitary nature of much of his musical exploration, this time, the artist invites other voices into the world of Scream If You Don’t Exist. On ‘Swollen’, the unflinching, brimstone prophecy of Billy Woods sounds clear through an expanse of spirallic bass, preaching the same frayed gospel as Culver when he issues the quietly devastating contemporary diagnosis: “Computer broke but it still works for now / That’s the best you can say for most of us anyhow,” while another fearless correspondent from the fringes, Moor Mother, brings earthbound heft to the ambient drift and obliterating barrage of ‘Restaurants,’ teasing out meaning with elongated intonation and pitch-shifted intensity.

It’s during the album’s most meditative moments that we might recognise this space Culver has found for himself for what it really is. ‘OMG They’re Gone’ follows a chopped and slowed monologue from Culver’s wife, who works as a death doula, reflecting on her own experiences with grief and the reality of living within a culture both terrified and ignorant of the process. Floating over glistening ebb, etherised croons and luminous chimes, her words stand as a prescient reminder of the power of ephemerality. Just as Culver flourishes in imperfection, here we can find enormous strength in transcience. But it’s with ‘Just Jump In,’ which unfurls like a buoyant counterpart to the sparkling oil rigs of ‘I was born by the sea’, that Culver illuminates the hopeful waters we realise we’ve been making our steady way towards. “I know now / That you loved me,” he admits, a revelation a lifetime in the making. Through the rawest reflection Culver has found a way forward, driven by an optimism drawn from a resolve to be better, to love and be loved, an admission to weakness and the discovery of a new kind of strength. “Don’t test the water,” he reassures us and himself, “just jump in.”

Scream If You Don’t Exist will be released in November 2023 by Participant, on limited edition vinyl, and digital download . The release will be accompanied by a series of films directed by Mau Morgo, Josiane M.H Pozi, William Markarian-Martin, Simon Bus, and Bruxism.

Pink Vinyl. The title of the most recent Atmosphere album, May 2023's So Many Other Realities Exist Simultaneously, evokes the multiversal storytelling that's recently vaulted into the mainstream consciousness. With their latest effort, the irrepressible Talk Talk EP, the Minneapolis legends dart across threads of space-time to grab hold of the one where Slug and Ant became titans of the electro-rap that was foundational to their youths. By evoking acts like Kraftwerk and Egyptian Lover, Atmosphere makes visions of the future from four decades ago seem new once again, the relentless forward churn of technological optimism reimagined as an endless loop with irresistible drums. The genesis of the Talk Talk EP was the session for a song of the same name that appeared on So Many Other Realities Exist Simultaneously. A collaboration with Lifter Puller alum Bat Flower, the song "Talk Talk" exists alongside electro classics in an uncanny valley that's been warped into a sweaty nightclub, at once vaguely alien and deeply human. Enamored with the song's outcome, Slug and Ant returned for a longer exploration of the sound, to mesmeric results. The pulsing "Rotary Telephone," where the TV antennas seem tuned to a world just slightly askew from ours, thrives on the tension between Slug's careening vocals and the song's taught structure_form matched perfectly with content. And on "Hear Hear," the struggle to make human connections is revealed as a beautiful one. For all its well-documented roots in disco and R&B, rap's connection to the electronic music of the 1970s and `80s is a core part of its DNA. The Talk Talk EP is one of the clearest articulations of this truth to emerge in many years, a testament to the communal power of programmed sound. For proof, look no further than "Traveling Forever," the haunting missive that closes out the record. Images flash: of police knees on necks, of prying cameraphones, another empty hotel room indistinguishable from the last. "I never got to learn how to dance for you," Slug raps, pointedly. "I don't know whether or not that's an attribute." A chill runs down your spine but the skull at its top keeps nodding.

Circular patterns morphing through time, loop and ritual form the fabric of Proserpine, the latest work by Leeds-based musician, Teresa Winter. Recorded from a summer to a winter through 2021 and 2022, Proserpine is Winter's most cohesive, focused music to date: confidently revelling in space, fixating on isolated sounds and giving way to satisfying, swirling waves of vocal and electronic buzz. Proserpine is Teresa Winter's debut recording for Glasgow-based label, Night School.

On Proserpine, musical patterns revolve and intersect with each other, transmogrifying the music's narrative. Over-arching themes emerge: continual change, elusiveness. Insubstantiality emerges into concrete reality in the form of recognisable field recordings: the purring of a pet cat, the hum of a live cable. The loops and patterns are sometimes just out of sight, the click and whirl on Child Of Nature is the backdrop to hymnal vocalisations by Winter, who intones spell-like text in conversation with herself. On opener Circles, Winter's vocal is pre-linguistic, detached syllables falling into flowing streams, before Plume's field recordings seem to juxtapose nocturnal and diurnal wildlife. "You said I was a Flower Of The Mountain" sings Winter, as James Joyce's Molly Bloom does but the carpe diem desire in Ulysses is dissipated here, spread out by gauzy, droning organs. Here desire is blown up and out, changed into something undefinable but no less powerful.

Change is at the heart of the album. The Roman goddess Proserpine, herself a reimagined version of the earlier Greek goddess Persephone, is always between: between summer and winter, the land of the living and the underworld, constantly emerging into new states of being. It's a fitting metaphor for Winter's work. Like an Apple feels like it soundtracks this in-between state, long, trailing reverb smudging synth keys and Winter's achingly beautiful vocal performance. The effect is stirring but flitting in and out of perception, sometimes Winter's presence feels of this world, of musical instruments and practises and at others it feels like the music is about to phase into a different plane, a different universe.

While Proserpine references the myths and cults of the classical, pre-Christian era, Winter's restless preoccupation with the mechanics of religion informs the album in other ways. Ritual is present through out, either in the mantra-like vocalisations or even the private rituals we are invited to witness: on Fireworks the listener eave drops into the protagonist's private bonfire. On the stunning Lamento, layers of Choral vocal interlock in celestial patterns that recall catholic mass: it's an overt effect that simulates the ecstasy of religious fervour and also reminds the listener of the use of vocal that runs through Proserpine. Winter's vocals often echo with the euphoria of obliteration, of disintegrating in an awful bliss. It's an effect achieved with finality by the closer New Water as the piece begins with voice before burning up in the atmosphere of elegiac violins and enveloping undertows of whirring synth patterns and ghostly pads. Proserpine is forever turning, changing, always elusive and quietly revelatory.

A commemorative edition of the two Death In June albums Take Care And Control (1997) and Operation Hummingbird (1999) packed into a single, normal sized, foil blocked LP sleeve and retitled Death In June - Operation Control. In total a limited run of 1,000 x double LPs. All LPs will be packed in black inner sleeves, and there will be no posters/postcards or download code. It will be attractive to both collectors and those who don't have these titles, which haven't been available since 2007, when both were deleted from the Death In June catalogue due to an internal dispute. This has now been resolved.

A commemorative edition of the two Death In June albums Take Care And Control (1997) and Operation Hummingbird (1999) packed into a single, normal sized, foil blocked LP sleeve and retitled Death In June - Operation Control. In total a limited run of 1,000 x double LPs. All LPs will be packed in black inner sleeves, and there will be no posters/postcards or download code. It will be attractive to both collectors and those who don't have these titles, which haven't been available since 2007, when both were deleted from the Death In June catalogue due to an internal dispute. This has now been resolved.

A commemorative edition of the two Death In June albums Take Care And Control (1997) and Operation Hummingbird (1999) packed into a single, normal sized, foil blocked LP sleeve and retitled Death In June - Operation Control. In total a limited run of 1,000 x double LPs. All LPs will be packed in black inner sleeves, and there will be no posters/postcards or download code. It will be attractive to both collectors and those who don't have these titles, which haven't been available since 2007, when both were deleted from the Death In June catalogue due to an internal dispute. This has now been resolved.

Electric, their third album, came out in 1987 and really caused the band to explode to new levels of fame. It contains the massive hits "Love Removal Machine", Wild Flower" and "Lil" Devil" and was produced by Rick Rubin. Electric is a seminal work, featuring some of the band"s most iconic songs. It is a departure from the band"s previous work, with a raw, agressive and stripped-down sound. The album"s opening track, "Wild Flower," sets the tone with its pounding drums, blistering guitar riffs, and Ian Astbury"s wailing vocals. Electric was a commercial and critical success, propelling The Cult to the forefront of the hard rock scene and cementing their status as one of the most influential bands of the era. The album remains a touchstone for hard rock and heavy metal fans, a classic work that captures the spirit of rebellion and the power of rock and roll. The Cult has remained an important and enduring force in the rock music world. The band has sold millions of records worldwide and has earned critical acclaim for its powerful live performances. The Cult continues to tour and record new music, and their influence on rock music shows no sign of diminishing.

For the first time ever, Neutral Milk Hotel's much-beloved, endlessly influential 1998 album In the Aeroplane Over the Sea is available on cassette. On too many "best albums of the 1990s" lists to recount, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea gives us Jeff Mangum's powerful solo acoustic work, full horn-section marches, history, religion, and sex _ everything you hoped for and more!













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The earth rotates, seasons change_there is but one long day_ Time is a beguiling, indistinct entity_sometimes standing still, sometimes bending back upon itself with premonitions or memories of the future. Growing out of a pen pal style correspondence that took place over the course of a year, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, Gloria de Oliveira and Dean Hurley passed thoughts and music back and forth that would eventually form their collaborative album, Oceans of Time. The result is an aural tapestry of that exchange: woven from conceptual threads of the celestial within, mortality and the realm beyond stars. The duo's partnership is an effortless merge, yet it's the steady presence of de Oliveira's vocals that endows the record with its sense of potency. Throughout the album, there is an innate understanding of how a lyric across a chordal color can sharpen an emotional truth. Much like a sunbeam that pierces a spiderweb to reveal its intricacy, her lyric and melody are purposely aimed in order to illuminate the truths deep within oneself_a process that ties us all to the universal. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, a professed influence, wrote about the truth as something that was inherently subjective, less about the concrete reality of what is believed and more about how it is experienced by the believer. Frequent David Lynch collaborator Dean Hurley sets the tonal and sonic landscape of each track on the album, lending a layered ether that envelops, frames and holds de Oliveira's vocals. With its impressionistic synths, shimmering guitars, and ethereal sonics, Oceans of Time at moments recalls the foundational dreampop of 4AD acts like Cocteau Twins and Lush. The album feels especially attuned to the connections between the physical and transcendental realms, and the best dreampop has a way of making the veil between two worlds feel just a little bit thinner. Oceans of Time is a key that has the power to release its listener from the handcuffs of reality, however briefly_

The earth rotates, seasons change_there is but one long day_ Time is a beguiling, indistinct entity_sometimes standing still, sometimes bending back upon itself with premonitions or memories of the future. Growing out of a pen pal style correspondence that took place over the course of a year, separated by the Atlantic Ocean, Gloria de Oliveira and Dean Hurley passed thoughts and music back and forth that would eventually form their collaborative album, Oceans of Time. The result is an aural tapestry of that exchange: woven from conceptual threads of the celestial within, mortality and the realm beyond stars. The duo's partnership is an effortless merge, yet it's the steady presence of de Oliveira's vocals that endows the record with its sense of potency. Throughout the album, there is an innate understanding of how a lyric across a chordal color can sharpen an emotional truth. Much like a sunbeam that pierces a spiderweb to reveal its intricacy, her lyric and melody are purposely aimed in order to illuminate the truths deep within oneself_a process that ties us all to the universal. The Danish philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, a professed influence, wrote about the truth as something that was inherently subjective, less about the concrete reality of what is believed and more about how it is experienced by the believer. Frequent David Lynch collaborator Dean Hurley sets the tonal and sonic landscape of each track on the album, lending a layered ether that envelops, frames and holds de Oliveira's vocals. With its impressionistic synths, shimmering guitars, and ethereal sonics, Oceans of Time at moments recalls the foundational dreampop of 4AD acts like Cocteau Twins and Lush. The album feels especially attuned to the connections between the physical and transcendental realms, and the best dreampop has a way of making the veil between two worlds feel just a little bit thinner. Oceans of Time is a key that has the power to release its listener from the handcuffs of reality, however briefly_

‘Life And Death - The Five Chandeliers Of The Funereal Exorcisms’ pulls back the veil unto a nocturnal scene populated by shadows, embers burning coldly in the underworld. Marina Zispin is your guide, siren and protector both. Marina Zispin is the negative space between musicians Bianca Scout and Martyn Reid. Love And Death is the duo’s debut release, five chandeliers of melancholic, vibrant synth pop twinkling in the inky blackness. Both originally hailing from the North East of England and forming a musical partnership before lockdown, Bianca Scout and Martyn Reid initially worked remotely. Having relocated to South London and Newcastle respectively, Marina Zispin was born in earnest after the duo could begin writing and practising in the same space. Bianca Scout is a celebrated musician and dancer with a number of solo and collaborative works in her discographywhile Martyn Reid is a mainstay of the UK noise and power electronics scene, most recently with solo project Depletion. Marina Zispin largely eschews both Scout’s deconstructed approach to song and Reid’s focus on visceral, noise- based productions; the result is a new entity, the underground pop star that exists only in darkened dreams. Marina Zispin, then, is an avatar cajoled, nurtured and directed by Scout and Reid. Analogue electronics redolent of the early 80s Cold Wave and Synth Pop era form the base of the Zispin worldview, with Bianca Scout donning the Marina disguise, embodying the character over five songs of swooning drama, playful melodic interplays and tear-stained, doe-eyed sentiment. Flowers In The Sea opens with an austere 4/4 beat and hypnotic synth parts before Scout/Zispin floats in across the lagoon. Scout’s vocal tone is an instant winner, sweet like honey pouring down over the cold, robotic productions and stereo-panned synth work. We can almost see the petals drift into the horizon before being pulled under by the artist’s sadness. Ski Resort bursts out with a Jacno-inspired bassline and backing that could have been buried in a French disco in 1982 (think Stereo or Linear Movement) before Scout’s narrative details frivolousness and regret before a magical shift for the final coda into major key. Backworth Gold Club closes Side A, a mysterious rigid beat and minor chord synth arpeggios swimming in space, floating and obscure. On Side B, Hymn carries the tone on, church-like synths holding down the pattern for Zispin/Scout to float above in a flowing gown of reverb. The marriage of Reid’s cold musical backbone and Scout’s effortless vocal and co- production is in full flow here, the vocals at times rising to the rafters of this nocturnal place of worship, at other points they’re fuzzy samples cutting in and drifting out or sung with an extreme autotune, abstract and perfect in the moment. Surprise Party is the most straightforward pop bullet, Scout/Zispin’s vocal peering out more from the fog, perhaps revealing more than usual: vulnerability, maybe, the wandering muse of the artists behind the veil or just another layer of mystery behind the enigma? Marina Zispin’s Life & Death - The Five Chandeliers Of The Funereal Exorcisms ends as it began, scintillating in obscurity, leaving everything unanswered but open.