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Salix is a bold new departure for modular synthesist Loula Yorke, seen here using an antique reed organ to explore the ancient roots of willow trees in magic, myth and medicine, as well as inviting another musician into her recording studio for the first time, clarinettist Charlotte Jolly.

The EP forms a sonic archive of a singular instrument: an antique free reed organ left behind by a previous encumbent of Asylum Studios, (the artists' co-operative in Suffolk where Yorke's Truxalis labelmate and life collaborator, Seiche, has a studio space). The organ is in poor condition and fascinatingly, painfully detuned. Yorke's recordings bring out its host of unusual quirks exacerbated by age and neglect: the powerful rhythmic creaking of the wooden treadles; the bone-shaking resonance emanating from its body at specific pitches; unexpected exclamations of harmonic collision from within the carcass redolent of a human voice; the piercing, shrieking whistles of broken reeds, and the powerful timbres unlocked via Yorke's experiments with various combinations of stops.

The three tracks that form Salix are inspired by a local weeping willow tree, a constant companion photographed over the course of a year. Boughs caught in a gyre. A maiden in mourning. Branches that gesture in the wrong direction. A tree turned upside down. A hand-woven willow basket, an old technology to gather and store. The journey of a lovelorn bard through the underworld, a bundle of willow under one arm for protection.

For the opening track, The Carrier Bag Theory of Fiction, Yorke recorded herself playing a simple unaccompanied improvisation on the organ, the only ornamentation being the processed sounds of the keys being struck and returning to their positions.

For Bundle of Styx, a spell of protection is cast and then broken. Yorke invited virtuoso clarinettist Charlotte Jolly into the studio to test combining the breathy textures of both brass and natural reeds, the instruments uniting and obsuring each other in turn during this one-take improvisation. The organ's unpredictable sharpened tunings take centre stage here, with Jolly using them as a point of departure to conjure a set of peerless harmonic improvisations live in the moment. Throughout the improvisation, Yorke, a self-taught musician, unpracticed on the organ, supports and challenges, freely admitting that she's not always sure what effect her decisions to move up and down the keyboard or pull out certain stops will have. Jolly's genius lies in her ability to meet and build on every uncertain pitch thrown her way, saying of the experience, "I love that Loula isn't classically trained, I can't predict at all what she's about to do."

For the final track, With the Red Dawn, Yorke has come up with another unique combination of textures, this time bringing her own specialism in modular synthesis to the fore. A ten-minute reed organ drone characterised with ever-shifting bass swells and overtones is layered with tuned sines, often shudderingly wave-folded, that ebb and flow both in intensity and harmonic colour according to the duty cycles of eight interrelated LFOs. These recordings are collaged with Yorke's singing voice and a langorous, ascending sequence across two octaves on Jolly's clarinet, all arranged to form a cohesive whole far greater than the sum of its parts. Smatterings of untuned percussion and a fragment of a conversation between the duo left in the final mix cements Yorke's unprecious DIY aesthetic into the release.

At its heart, Salix is like watching the wind in the willows; hundreds of thousands of identical tiny leaves moving in confluence on its branches; at once one thing and many things; moment-to-moment our perception makes out different individuals parts within this expanse of texture, before sinking back into the whole.

Rats Will Feast is an experimental hardcore outfit from Jyväskylä, Finland, crafting a musical landscape of extreme aggression, unyielding emotion and hallucinatory chaos. Active in its current form since 2018, the band has built a reputation for intense live performances and innovative sound. "An Evocation" celebrates Rats Will Feast's diverse and imaginative interpretation of modern metallic hardcore. While the being is deeply rooted in the bands core sound developed over the last 10 years, "An Evocation" refines and expands the bands sound into new unexplored forms. Crushing and extreme, yet intensely melodic and experimental, the album's sound is a forceful expression of unrelenting hardcore with unyielding emotion.

Orange vinyl. Rats Will Feast is an experimental hardcore outfit from Jyväskylä, Finland, crafting a musical landscape of extreme aggression, unyielding emotion and hallucinatory chaos. Active in its current form since 2018, the band has built a reputation for intense live performances and innovative sound. "An Evocation" celebrates Rats Will Feast's diverse and imaginative interpretation of modern metallic hardcore. While the being is deeply rooted in the bands core sound developed over the last 10 years, "An Evocation" refines and expands the bands sound into new unexplored forms. Crushing and extreme, yet intensely melodic and experimental, the album's sound is a forceful expression of unrelenting hardcore with unyielding emotion.

“I wanted to explore how a big band can cry — not only through sorrow, but through joy, tenderness, and release. Music can hold grief and celebration at the same time, and Paid To Cry lives in that space.”
Nils Berg has been a cornerstone of the Swedish jazz scene since the turn of the millennium. Known internationally as an innovative bandleader and collaborator, this release places the spotlight — for the first time — on Berg’s work as a composer for large ensemble.
Paid To Cry is the result of an intensive collaboration with the Norrbotten Big Band, one of Scandinavia’s most acclaimed jazz orchestras. Drawing melodic clarity and emotional directness from composers such as Burt Bacharach and Kurt Weill, while embracing the raw courage of Björk and Sun Ra, and the pulsating minimalism of Steve Reich, the music forms a sound world that feels both familiar and entirely its own.
This is contemporary big band music without nostalgia: physical, vulnerable, and expansive. Written with deep trust in the individual voices of the ensemble, the compositions allow space for both collective force and intimate expression. And what an ensemble to breathe life — and tears — into this music.
With fifteen musicians moving as one organism, Paid To Cry carries enough air, rhythm, and resonance to lift the listener far beyond genre boundaries. It is music that dares to be emotional without explanation, and powerful without grandstanding — inviting the listener to feel first, and understand later.

Chez Damier and Ralph Lawson had a fruitful transatlantic hook-up decades ago in a famous farmhouse studio in West Yorkshire. The fruits of that session gave rise to some timeless jams - most notably on 2015's full length collaborative album Lost In Time - including the ones appearing here, though two have come in all-new forms. 'A Dedication to Jos', named in honour of Lawson's friend and late Back to Basics resident, is a mid-tempo sound with phased vocals pacing about the mix and a classic bassline that gets a slight Wulf Lost Tape edit. 'Thank You' then comes as a Ralph Lawson dub and has a darker energy rising from the moody bassline. Closer 'The Moment' then brings some soul with warm chord injections, supple spoken words and a cool as you like groove. An evergreen EP for sure.

April Records proudly presents the new album from Stockholm Stockholm-based bassist and composer Jon Henriksson - a confident and flexible statement that deepens his place within contemporary Scandinavian jazz. Following the success of his 2023 debut Harmonia which placed second in Orkesterjournalen s Golden Album " readers " poll, Henriksson returns with music that foregrounds collective interplay, shifting forms, and a strong compositional voice. Born in Gothenburg and now active across Sweden and Europe, Henriksson has collaborated and toured with artists including Lars Jansson, Hakan Broström, Erik Söderlind, Klas Lindquist, Jonas Kullhammar and Christina von Bülow. Alongside leading his own ensembles, he remains a soughtsought-after bassist in a wide range of projects, balancing a deep connection to the jazz tradition with a modern, exploratory approach. Shapeshifter is built around a core quartet of tenor saxophone, piano, double bass and drums, expanded with guitar on three tracks and trombone on two. The album moves fluidly between contrasting moods, from forceful and driving to reflective and restrained, with each piece shaped by the musicians " intuition and responsiveness. The title reflects Henriksson s compositional philosophy: allowing roles, textures, and forms to evolve as the music unfolds.The ensemble brings together long long-standing musical relationships. Pianist Rasmus Sorensen and Henriksson have collaborated since their studies at Skurups Folkhögskola (Henriksson is a longstanding member of Sorensen s own trio), while drummer Jonas Bäckman forms part of a well well-established rhythm section partnership with the bassist across numerous projects including the Britta Virves Trio. Saxophonist Karl Karl-Martin Almqvist, a member of the Danish Radio Big Band, completes the quartet, with guitarist Pelle von Bülow and trombonist Rasmus Holm joining the session shortly before recording to expand the album s sonic palette where the music called for it. Originally conceived as a quartet album, Shapeshifter took its final shape in the lead lead-up to recording as additional instrumental colours were introduced organically. The piece Toninho , a tribute to Brazilian guitarist and composer Toninho Horta, features acoustic guitar and subtle wordless vocals, reflecting melodic influences that sit naturally within the album s contemporary jazz framework. Across the record, space, pacing, and interaction remain central. Rather than forcing constant motion, the music allows ideas to develop with clarity and intent, resulting in an album that highlights Henriksson s growing assurance as a composer and bandleader, while keeping the collective at its core.

2026 Repress

Rhythm by Nature is back with Somefink Old, Somefink New, a three-tracker from seasoned producer Grant Dell that bridges past and present: sketches first laid down in the mid-2000s rediscovered and reworked alongside a brand-new cut, forming a dialogue between memory and renewal.

The EP opens with Feel Me?, a deep tech construction driven by a heavy low-end, its groove unfolding patiently while flashes of disco glimmer through the framework. On Light of Day, Dell shifts into full deep house territory — spacey pads and floating strings suspended across open structures until acidic stabs break through, twisting the track into brighter, playful directions. Closing with Death Disco in Dub, Dell channels the hallmarks of his Tribalation project: dub-infused atmospherics, light percussion and echo-drenched fragments circling around a hypnotic core, equally suited to open or dissolve a night.

With Somefink Old, Somefink New, Rhythm by Nature traces the arc of an artist deeply embedded in the underground, reuniting past forms with present gestures in a release that reaffirms the label’s consistency in quality and commitment to timeless club music.

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

MTY-3.14 “π”, released on March 14, 2026, is the fifth and final chapter of a journey begun fifteen years ago.



This standard edition presents the final form of Polar Inertia across three 12" vinyl records, featuring 11 tracks. Nothing added, nothing removed—only the music, unfolding in full.



Images dissolve, words fall away. What remains are faint echoes, like footprints slowly erased in fresh snow.



This final opus does not close the path. It fades into it. π is not an ending, but a state: the moment where movement continues, even as the world turns silent.



A last step.
A final trace.
Still moving, beneath the cold.



POLAR INERTIA



We are no one because we want to be no one,
And to be no one we have to be everywhere and nowhere- Polar Inertia examines the enigmatic and blurry realms, embracing the art of obscured vision.


Encountering the collective Polar Inertia is much like being absorbed by fog and captivated by its ever-shifting forms and densities, with things being as indistinguishable as in a whiteout.



Formed in 2010 by a group of artists, Polar Inertia transcends visibility, delving into structures that lie beyond the public gaze. Layers upon layers intertwine within the fabric of Polar Inertia, extending beyond their profound electronic compositions and live performances. It manifests as a conceptual universe, where sound, monochrome aesthetics, and elusive narratives converge, much like trying to grasp the intangible fog. The entity that is Polar Inertia is involved in installations, print- and video work and texts created for different contexts and live in different spheres such as Palais de Tokyo in Paris or the Lyon Biennale of Contemporary Art. Still, clubs and festivals are perfect spaces to experience these nebulous soundworlds and immerse in them. Fittingly, some of Polar Inertia’s appearances include the colossal halls of Berghain and Bassiani and at experimental festivals like Mutek Montreal and Atonal Berlin, that like to break with the classic club conventions.



Polar Inertia's sonic landscape unfolds with wafting textures accompanied by resonating beats and drones, reverberating through empty spaces, merging with the vast expanse of nothingness. Their sound exists at the crossroads of ambient, experimental, and deep techno, interwoven with vocal narratives. Since their inaugural release “Indirect Light“ on Dement3d Records in 2011, they remain a stronghold of relevance and captivation in the electronic domain.



Mastered by sixbitdeep, with artistic direction by Diplomatie Studio.

Following his critically acclaimed debut "Dentsu2060" released via Lorenzo Senni's Presto!?, Tasho Ishi's second full-length album "Tasho Ishi lI" is now available on his own label T's.

tI features the new-wave Parapara anthem "Collapse Roppongihills" which became a staple at Narita Airport raves. celebrity trap rave track "DreamDrakeDrain" reminiscent of jam session between Drake and David Chronenberg. the junk entertainment track "Hellnwein" depicting modern pop utopia and its violent underbelly.

The Japanese-style Eurodance meets Philip Glass "The Bachelor" inspired by reality TV. These anthems are contemporary, pop, and carry Tasho Ishi's unique critical edge.

The second album, 'Tasho Ishi Il', is both a musical translation of Japan's diverse techno-animism and a sequel to the previous work "Dentsu2060" Techno-animism: Para Para, anime voice actors, reality TV, epics, advertising, and raves. Each track stands alone yet forms part of a larger, chronologically unfolding narrative.

While all tracks are animated by Japan-specific sound imagery, this is a pop album rather than avant-garde or abstract. In essence, it's a series of songs generated by rave trans-layers, serving as both reportage and documentation tracing Tasho Ishi's visionary city and its phenomena.

Mats Gustafsson met Jan St. Werner in Berlin when they both performed with Peter Brötzmann and a group of prolific improvisers. Mats and Jan share a passion for performing not just inside rooms but also with them, activating space and shaping sound via divertion. Mats introduces Johan Berthling who adds complex bass structures to the nervous jitter of Mats’ saxophone & pedals and Werner's digital machinery.

The trio instantly agrees on sound as a physical material which can bend and move anywhere within seconds. With this material they establish musical forms which they immediately dissect and reassemble again. It’s a nervous ride, a hyperactive conversation keen on detail and open to argument. Although IFANAME’s sound is instantly graspable it is also hard to pin down. Nothing seems stable yet it lasts, holds like some kind of catchy glue and disssapears as quickly as it came to life. IFANAME is question and concern. It is music as much as it is movement. It is attention, care, curiosity and disaster. Wherever IFANAME came from there is much more waiting ready to burst and reshape in front and inside of our ears.

Alice Kemp is a British artist working with noise, performance, fetish objects, installation and many other forms of media. Throughout her work, she articulates a broken and illogical syntax of the subconscious through trance states, dreams, and disturbances. She has performed extensively, occasionally as an associate to the Schimpfluch-Gruppe of Swiss extreme aktionists.

It is a rarified violence that the Kemp invokes on her 9 Dreams In Erotic Mourning. Something disfigured. Something fucked. Something left behind. The subject matter of her investigations are deliberately inscrutable as she grotesquely amplifies a moment of terror, or fear, of sadness through pockets of piano melodies broken by psychoacoustic noise, razor-cut silence, ghastly vocalizations, crushed acts of physical aggression, and buckets of high-pressure suspense. Cryptic and oblique by design Kemp's work reads perhaps as a seance gone awry, certainly as private ritual made public, and as a transfiguration of literary body horror turned into a sonic nightmare that runs parallel to the works of Rudolf Eb.Er, Puce Mary, Sewer Election, and Luc Ferrari.

9 Dreams In Erotic Mourning was originally published as part of the instantly out of print boxset, On Corrosion - a 10 cassette anthology from 2019 that was housed in a handcrafted wooden box and featuring full albums from Kleistwahr, Neutral, Pinkcourtesyphone, Alice Kemp, She Spread Sorrow, G*Park, Relay For Death, Francisco Meirino, Fossil Aerosol Mining Project, and Himukalt. The collection also stood as the 50th release for The Helen Scarsdale Agency.

When High Tone Live dropped on Jarring Effects, it wasn't just another live album - it was a statement. Captured in the spring of 2003, the Lyon-based collective condensed years of experimentation into an 11-track journey that redefines what live dub can be. Since their formation in 1997, High Tone have stood at the crossroads of dub, electronic music, rock, and urban culture. With Jarring Effects as their home base, they built a reputation for transforming the stage into a laboratory - a place where basslines mutate, beats deconstruct, and every frequency breathes. High Tone Live draws from four key releases - Low Tone, Opus Incertum, Bass Température and ADN - Acid Dub Nucleik - revisiting them through the raw energy of the stage. Classics like "Dehli Katmandou" and "Enter the Dragon" are stretched, twisted, and reborn in extended, improvisational forms. Two unreleased tracks, "112 Dub" and "Onew Dub," complete the set, adding a dose of fresh material to a disc that feels both retrospective and forward-looking. As with any live recording, there are rough edges: the mix shifts, some moments feel caught mid-explosion. But that's the beauty of High Tone Live. The imperfections add warmth, immediacy - a reminder that this music is made by humans pushing machines to their limits. High Tone Live stands as one of the strongest documents of Europe's post-dub explosion. It's a record that bridges continents and genres - a sonic travelogue where analog grit meets digital hypnosis. More than a live set, it's a manifesto of independence and sound exploration, stamped with the unmistakable seal of Jarring Effects.

more eaze is the moniker of Brooklyn-based composer, orchestrator, and multi-instrumentalist, mari maurice. A renowned collaborator both in performance and on recordings, maurice"s own work is a fantasia, a reflection of her curious and explorative musical mind, encompassing entire spectrums of sound from a wide sonic pallet of electro-acoustic textures, folk traditions, and pop forms that pirouette into fully realized ecosystems. sentence structure in the country is a definitive statement of the matchless quality of more eaze"s skill as player and musical thinker. The album relishes the ecstatic in performance and collaboration with an inviting wit and incisive compositions, imbuing tenderness, frustration, and joy into each passage. sentence structure in the country is a collection of compositions, each beautifully realized, self-contained worlds. maurice"s dexterous, tasteful arranging lays bare her influences and obsessive fascinations with remarkable congruency while foregoing any sense of indulgence. Her music holds a density not only in the lush compositions and embellishing flourishes, but also for those moments of spare, minimalist beauty. sentence structure in the country is a textural marvel, a mosaic of ethereal electronics and loamy acoustics sculpted around deeply moving, enduring songs.

more eaze is the moniker of Brooklyn-based composer, orchestrator, and multi-instrumentalist, mari maurice. A renowned collaborator both in performance and on recordings, maurice"s own work is a fantasia, a reflection of her curious and explorative musical mind, encompassing entire spectrums of sound from a wide sonic pallet of electro-acoustic textures, folk traditions, and pop forms that pirouette into fully realized ecosystems. sentence structure in the country is a definitive statement of the matchless quality of more eaze"s skill as player and musical thinker. The album relishes the ecstatic in performance and collaboration with an inviting wit and incisive compositions, imbuing tenderness, frustration, and joy into each passage. sentence structure in the country is a collection of compositions, each beautifully realized, self-contained worlds. maurice"s dexterous, tasteful arranging lays bare her influences and obsessive fascinations with remarkable congruency while foregoing any sense of indulgence. Her music holds a density not only in the lush compositions and embellishing flourishes, but also for those moments of spare, minimalist beauty. sentence structure in the country is a textural marvel, a mosaic of ethereal electronics and loamy acoustics sculpted around deeply moving, enduring songs.

Baptized with a name derived from astrophysical theories about dark matter and black holes, THE HOLEUM was formed in 2014 in Alicante, Spain. Founded by former members of NahemaH, Demised, quantumXperience, Hela, Neptunian Sun, and Priest of Dawn, the quintet set out to push the boundaries of heavy music and to intensify the emotional impact of darkness in sound. Their concept is both cosmic and sonic: “THE HOLEUM is related to the dark matter that forms the black holes in the universe. THE HOLEUM is not a black hole, but black holes are formed by The Holeum. That is the idea from which we extract our concept – we are a sonic and cosmic vision of the sublime.” With their third album “Ensis” (2025), the band continues its journey through experimental metal, death doom, melodic metal, and post-metal. This work is more than a continuation – it is a condensation and expansion of their previous soundscape. “Ensis” reveals itself as finely nuanced, challenging, yet at the same time profoundly sensitive and multifaceted. The songs unfold like cosmic landscapes where heaviness and melancholy meet subtle emotionality. The intensity remains palpable, but it is complemented by a deeper sensitivity that draws the listener into a fragile balance between harshness and delicacy. “Ensis” is an album that demands and touches at once – a work that makes the complexity of human existence audible in the mirror of the universe.

E The Artist presents Six, his debut album for Nyahh Records; an incendiary opus of blown-out electronics and daring sonic abstractions, inspired by the seven seals, that posits E as a daring force within the Irish underground.

Garnering a fierce reputation both in Ireland and abroad despite minimal recorded output, the artist known as E instead boasts his infamy on the live circuit. The Nigerian-born, Dublin-based musician impressed over the years with a slew of memorable performances inspired by AfroPunkism, recontextualising contemporary black club genres into their loudest and most intense iterations. Following a brief side quest to Vienna early in 2025, E returned to Dublin relieved by the tangibility in familiarity of his surroundings. This inspired a period of personal reflection on self, mortality and religion in his cramped studio; from these sessions emerged his most substantial body of work to date in Six.
Inspired by the opening of the seven seals in the Book of Revelation, Six acts as a radical departure for E. Opener IDTYEK signals this change, a freak folk oddity that ill-prepares you for the road ahead. From MANTRAS’ obtuse techno through to RISE’s power electronics, E fulfils a listening experience intent on submission rather than interpretation. Dynamic contrasts temper the parameters of its sonic catharsis, a crescendo of geometric flow that challenges convention.

Six also extends the artist’s circle of collaborators. Ruby Eastwood and Mel Keane lend BRIDGE their poetry and creative instability respectively, frequent live collaborator Julia Louise Knifefist douses BLACKOUT with his signature guttural cries while KRAF’s obscured lyrics gives LINT a wayward edge. Bulgarian Umbrella offers the record its most substantial contribution on DROGO, a twenty minute meditation on life and death which forms the core inspiration for the album as a whole.
Six exists as a world obsessed with rationalising finality, a disorienting space between certainty and myth that stands as E The Artist’s most ambitious and strangely beautiful work to date.

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.

Strut Records presents a fresh look at Oblivion Express, the 1971 album that marked Brian Auger’s shift into a new musical frontier. After years spent shaping the sound of British jazz-soul with the Trinity, Auger stepped into the new decade with a leaner, electrified ensemble and a renewed sense of purpose. This record captures the moment that transformation took shape.

Oblivion Express introduced a sound that was distinctly Auger’s own. Rather than echoing the fusion emerging in the United States, Auger developed a language rooted in the UK’s jazz underground, culminating in a spaced out jazz- rock / prog-fusion album awash with larger than life drum fills and Auger’s virtuosic organ playing. Between bassist Barry Dean and drummer Robbie McIntosh the album moves effortlessly between tight, articulated phrases and broader, improvisational passages. The trio’s interplay forms the backbone of the album and sets the tone for the sound that would define the early years of the Express.

Album opener “Dragon Song” launches with a restless drive that immediately signals Auger’s new direction. Auger chose to record this version of John McLaughlin’s piece (his friend and former bandmate in 'The Niddy Griddys') after hearing McLaughlin’s album Devotion during its mix at New York’s Record Plant Studios. Auger was blown away, recalling, “Oh my god, this is amazing. I wanted to record that myself - and I did!”. Pieces like “Total Eclipse” demonstrate the Oblivion Express’ command of dynamic contrast, and title track “Oblivion Express” explores the cinematic and compositional prowess of the group through stripped back, building moments vs. explosive melodic breakdowns. Riff-heavy “The Sword” later became known through Madlib’s usage in 2014 tracks “Yeti Movie” and “Parodies”.

In retrospect, Oblivion Express stands as a jazz leaning, prog-rock masterpiece and foundational moment in Auger’s catalogue. It captures the starting point of a new sound that is more focused, more urgent, and fully committed to the possibilities of jazz-rock at the dawn of the seventies. The album remains a vivid document of a band discovering its identity and setting the stage for the further array of influential releases that would follow.