quête:four tet

If you can judge an artist's quality by the company they keep, then FaltyDL is up there with the best of them. The label history of the producer known to his friends as Drew Lustman reads like a "who's who" of 21st century electronic music imprints - Ninja Tune, Unknown to the Unknown, Planet Mu, Studio Barnhus, the list goes on.

WithIn the Wake of Wolves, we can now add Central Processing Unit to this illustrious roster. The Sheffield label joins the party at a notable juncture - while FaltyDL has kept up an impressive clip of releases throughout his career,In the Wake of Wolvesis both the NYC-based producer's first LP for two years and his first full-length release away from his own Blueberry Records for almost a decade.

In the Wake of Wolvesproves to be both a great match for CPU and also further evidence of the label's burgeoning sonic palette. While CPU has built its reputation on top quality electro joints, recent releases have delivered adventurous electronica experiments (Proswell'sPeople Are Giving And Receiving Thanks At Incredible Speeds), hard-wired breakbeat techno (Baby T'sI Against I) and golden-age synth explorations (twenty-fifth anniversary reissues of Bochum Welt'sDesktop RoboticsandFeelings on a Screen, both of which first emerged via the legendary Rephlex Records).In the Wake of Wolvestakes things further still - this is a brilliantly genre-voracious record, one which marries the rhythmic cut-and-thrust that we have long known FaltyDL for with all manner of adventurous stylistic choices.

Those familiar with the FaltyDL experience will recognise the trademark blend of synthetic grit and harmonious softness in album opener 'I Need You'. This could pass for Four Tet or even Hannah Diamond at points, the steady build of pulsing synths and looped vocals recalling a more mysterious version of the PC Music sound. 'I Need You' stands shoulder-to-shoulder with any of FaltyDL's other great atmospheric album openers - no small feat given the competition. 'Further', the following number, is yin to 'I Need You's yang. This is a pulsating track which gleefully skitters between machine-funk, tubing darkside bass and breakcore-adjacent drum programming, all of which is peppered with some genuinely beautiful work in the higher synths.

'Further' sets the scene for several of the more club-facing cuts here. 'Minds Protection' similarly features all manner of strange percussive sounds to surprise the ear, and it also boasts a thrilling mid-section in which the bottom falls out the track to incorporate a short snippet of blown-out junglism. With its tunnelling low-end and clattering drums, 'Full Spectrum' kicks off a delightful run of grime-influenced joints which take cues from Mr. Mitch, Logos and many of those other producers who took the Eski sound to exciting new places in the 2010s. 'Forget Me Not', the album's longest track which is placed three spots from the end, feels like the record's climactic point - a pitter-patter post-house joint that has a hint of Caribou in its DNA, it'll take the clubs by storm.

But as much as FaltyDL may consistently bring the heat in terms of the beat programming, the thing which has long marked Lustman out as a special talent is the musicality of his compositions. No matter how much drums clatter or bass bangs, FaltyDL always hooks the ear back in with a sonorous synth or pleasing nugget of melody. Nowhere is this more apparent than onIn the Wake of Wolves' more weightless numbers, each startling in their prettiness. 'Half Spectrum' is a new-era beat track packed full of ear candy; the keening keys of 'GasGas' are potent with feeling; and on the album's closer, the evocatively-titled 'Mila Stans In A Meadow For The First Time Eating Strawberries', we get a gorgeous synth vignette that joins the dots between the modern mastery of Yung Sherman and the most emotionally affecting moments of Aphex's Twin's catalogue.

At once wistful and hopeful, archival and futuristic, FaltyDL's brilliantly unpredictableIn the Wake of Wolvesis a feather in the cap for both this seasoned producer and the Central Processing Unit label.

RIYL: AFX, Bochum Welt, Mark Fell, Mrs Jynx, Boards of Canada

Originally released on tape by SicSic in 2014, Aprilnacht commemorates a decade of music from Brannten Schnüre and marked the spring in a tetralogy of albums about the four seasons when it came out. Back then the Würzburg-based project consisted solely of Christian Schoppik, who later welcomed Katie Rich to take over the vocals. He used to perform as Agnes Beil, but dropped the name when, while making this album realized his music was becoming "much gentler and more fragile". Aprilnacht already captured the particular musical ideas that Schoppik would thoroughly keep exploring, delving deeper and deeper into the use and manipulation of samplers from sources so diverging as to wander between the five continents to post-war German family television and cult cinema. Heir of the ritualistic intensity of Coil, of the intricate sampler assemblies of Ghédalia Tazartès', and of the dusty, dismal old ballads from around the world, Brannten Schnüre manages to make these paths cross in a territory that is as inherent as it is uncanny; sieged by the past and intimate as a hearth. An organic approach to folk, ambient, and sound collage, where ethereal yet thoroughly textured pieces coalesce in enthralling, delicate, and innermost musical rituals.

The album cover paintings reveal the temper: dreary old towns where shadows come to dim the slow passage of crepuscular colors, a soft area of reanimation where wind and light come close and foresee the night of spring. Aprilnacht was inspired by the stories of German philosopher and writer Friedrich Alfred Schmid Noerr, whose work exhaustively examines the conflict between paganism and Christianity, safeguarding myth in a way that Schoppik describes as boldly modern, humorous and unpredictable in its variations of the Germanic folklore motifs. "I wanted to do the same with the music," he states, and the music here could as well be suitable for a night when household deities welcome wandering will-o'-the-wisps, water nymphs, and gyrovagues to discuss Perchta's leadership of The Wild Hunt, but this album is not a folk tale, it's not an elegy to worlds already gone, hidden in years; it's an intersection of routes that open mysteriously before our ears like a congregation of vapors. Aprilnacht is a gathering of voices; "There are too many children, and none of them keeps quiet," reads the last verse of «Requiem für eine Ringelnatter.»

Sensuality drips over the music to celebrate both the voluptuousness and tragic quality of nature; "It's raining on me, urine from your flowers," Schoppik sings in «Urin deiner Blüten» and later on, faced with a snake's erotic features, as if he wanted to be embraced by it: "Your quick, sharp tongue and your warm venom; that's what the pond is missing." Orality is where this profusion of contents thrives. When the voices get closer and condense, the words reveal the saliva employed to pronounce them; we feel the mouth and the tongue, but when breath envelops them in sorrow and softens their edges, they sound distant, diffused in the atmosphere, letting go of the body that held them. These two vocal facets oscillate permanently and interact naturally with the fertile assembly of samplers and instruments that develop throughout the album, which condense and disperse impersonating each other, interweaving to search for a specific syntax. Tangled whisperings of enigmatic phrases, timid voices that stick out to check the scene but hide away quickly, shivering trance chants and monastic ambiances, distant screams and clamors in between chaos and warfare swirl until bursting into subtle songs where even Mother Mary comes forth softly. Soothed by foggy atmospheres and crackling punctuations, these voices shape a vulnerable crowd, an occasion of fragility. Along this swarm of songs thrown into thin air, accordions sound like heavy-breathing lungs; clarinets sigh like curtains shaking; violin solos wander around like bees; Gjallarhorns cries distend like fleeing cattle; glockenspiels evoke remote music boxes and inherited toys; backward emanations emerge like slender waves retreating. On the banks of stretching loops and ember textures is where the songs slowly nest, collecting the words to find their tone.

A poem by Jorge Teillier says, "To talk with the dead you have to choose words that they recognize as easily as their hands recognized the fur of their dogs in the dark. To talk with the dead you have to know how to wait: they are fearful like the first steps of a child. But if we are patient one day they will answer us with a flame that suddenly revives in the fireplace." This may be Brannten Schnüre's main purpose: To find the voice to speak to those of whom we were a vision. Not in mourning, but acknowledging the obscure and volatile nature of spring's regenerative force, searching for the treasure of balance, as evidenced in the lyrics of «Requiem für ein Schwalbennest,» "Its nest was destroyed so many times before it was finished, and despite that, the shallow builds as if it is infatuated." The same idea is here in the words of Schmid Noerr, who made poetry an act of resistance to the horror of Nazism; "Since having seen the ability of a brilliant spirit to die, with a calm mouth that everyone saw, health is true again and we affirm it, even if rivers of blood flow." And as we call for the dusk's kindness, waiting to return home and eat with our kin by the stove, our ears become used to the games of the night. We feel like we're rowing on wetlands, while the "moon musick" keeps us vigilant against the slightest movement of water or sweet moan because eeriness here is imperative for survival. Do not succumb to the insipid howl of death, for nothing may last but mutability. You see, the rock has moved a little during the night; the rest is just wind fleeing from the void.

TIPP!

Moisk aka Pletnev & Fourmi Rouz delve into the depths of psychedelia soundscapes with their latest release “Tetris Life’’ on Terra Magica Rec. The duo skillfully balances modular sounds and shimmers through acid synthesizers with a wide range of psychedelic soundscapes from uptempo half-beat to raw, energetic techno trance, inviting you into a mesmerizing sci-fi universe.

The EP features tracks like “Tetris Life” and “A Glass of Coke with Ice”, that explore underground ambient deserts and immersive jungle improvisations. This is followed by dark and slow breakbeat cuts that transition into faster-paced, floating atmospheric IDM tunes. The 12’’ contains many choppy old-school loops and uptempo trance breakdowns, as in “Orange Button’’ and “Wrong Stability”. Featuring two weird dub/IDM/breaks remixes by Anatolian Weapons and HSDJs X Listensport to round off the wax. Don’t sleep on it!

decade-plus together, the four-piece - Julia Shapiro (guitar, vocals), Lydia Lund (guitar, vocals), Gretchen Grimm (drums, vocals), and Annie Truscott (bass, vocals) - have created a resonant body of work. Live Laugh Love is a natural continuation. Against the bizarre backdrop of the past few years, Chastity Belt remained a supportive space for the members to grow and experiment, drawing on the ingredients most essential to their process since the beginning: authenticity and levity. Recorded over three sessions in as many years (January 2020, November 2021 and 2022), the focus became more about enjoying their time together in the studio than making it feel like work. Their ease and familiarity with engineer Samur Khouja in LA, who also recorded their last album, made for a particularly enjoyable process. Once completed, they returned to renowned engineer Heba Kadry who mastered the album. Album opener "Hollow" sets the tone with a gently driving rhythm while guitar layers stream like sun rays through an open car window. A warmth radiates through Shapiro's voice, even while grappling with feeling lost and stuck. "The older I get," Shapiro says of the lyrics, "the more I realize that I might just always feel this way, and it's more about sitting with the feeling and accepting it, rather than trying to fight it." That wisdom seems to anchor Live Laugh Love . Chastity Belt has never shied from navigating the spectrum of difficult emotions, and an existential thread weaves throughout the subject matter. And yet the songs feel more grounded than ever; there's a sense of quiet confidence and self-assurance that comes with being less numb and more present. Facing discomfort takes more fortitude, after all. Live Laugh Love finds the members in their prime as musicians. Their parts trace intricate patterns over one another, but there's room to breathe between the layers. Everyone contributes to the writing, sometimes switching instruments, and for the first time, all four members sing a song. It's never been more apparent that they are creative siblings, cut from the same belt. "We've been playing music with each other for over a decade," says Shapiro, "so it really does feel like we're all fluent in the same language, and a lot of it just happens naturally." "Laugh" seeks in the balm of friendship, aware of the anticipatory nostalgia that hits during a good time that you're already missing before it's gone; the heavier guitar tones on "Chemtrails" streak ominous chord progressions over Grimm's precision timekeeping, lamenting memories that won't fade easily. During a transitional time, Truscott came across a note in their phone that read, "it's not hard all day, just sometimes," which inspired a poignant line in the chorus of "Kool-Aid," their first song as lead vocalist on a Chastity Belt recording. Another standout, "1-90 Bridge" shines with a silvery melody that soars as Lund belts one of the most resounding moments on the album: "Tell your girlfriend she's got nothing to fear/I'm set in my head/My body's a different story." The track "Blue" saunters nonchalantly with a wink; you can almost hear Shapiro's smile as she sings "Faking it big time/So I can hit my stride/Man, it feels good to be alive," channeling early Chastity Belt channeling early '90s before channeling the late Elliott Smith in a spiral of distortion and insight: "Don't get upset about it/It's gonna pass/Tell all your friends about it/They're gonna laugh." "We have such a strong sense of each other's musical inclinations" says Lund. "I think this allows for a lot of playfulness...we can kinda surprise each other, like a good punchline would."

Warehouse find!

First official reissue of this much bootlegged and sort after 12" release from Arnie Love & The Lovettes. Having disappeared into obscurity shortly after it's release in 1981, original copies now fetching over £200 in part due to regular plays in DJ sets from Four Tet, Caribou, Palms Trax & Charlie Bones.

MUSIC BY MADLIB / ARRANGED BY KIEREN HEBDEN (Four Tet)

Gil Evans to Miles Davis…. Holger Czukay to the ensemble known as Can….Jean Claude Vannier to Serge Gainsbourg on Histoire de Melody Nelson. That’s the only way to explain the specificity of Four Tet and Madlib’s collaboration, in this special album that showcases a two-decade long friendship that has resulted in an album that follows Madlib’s classics like Quasimoto’s The Unseen, Madvillainy and his Pinata and Bandana albums with Freddie Gibbs.

“A few months ago I completed work on an album with my friend Madlib that we’d been making for the last few years. He is always making loads of music in all sorts of styles and I was listening to some of his new beats and studio sessions when I had the idea that it would be great to hear some of these ideas made into a Madlib solo album. Not made into beats for vocalists to use but instead arranged into tracks that could all flow together in an album designed to be listened to start to finish. I put this concept to him when we were hanging out eating some nice food one day and we decided to work on this together with him sending me tracks, loops, ideas and experiments that I would arrange, edit, manipulate and combine. I was sent hundreds of pieces of music over a couple of years stretch and during that time I put together this album with all the parts that fitted with my vision.” - Kieren Hebden AKA Four Tet

It’s a family affair. One formed almost thirty years ago, back in the mid-nineties, when the pair joined seminal French jazz combo Olympic Grammofon. For twenty-four years they have worked together as Bumcello, each complementing the other, echoing polar opposites. The Boom in Bumcello is none other than Cyril Atef, incisive drummer, relentlessly pushing beats towards new horizons. The Cello is Vincent Ségal, cellist without blinkers and extraordinary musical alchemist. Since 1999, these two die-hard music fans, coming together for mercurial results, have released one record after the other whilst conquering the hearts of their live audiences, old regulars as well as new recruits. We have all been seduced by the way their music leapfrogs categories - these two experts are much more interested in kindred spirits than pigeonholing, and this very spirit is celebrated on more than one track of this ninth record, whose concept is original to say the least.

Everything began with an idea by Cyril Atef - a soundtrack based upon drawings penned by Marin, Vincent’s son, architect and visual artist. The musicians involved then coached their reaction to these images on a score, and the pair were charged with collating and adjusting the results. These thirteen ink drawings, in a heroic fantasy vein, constituted a matrix which was then to serve as a guide, like a roadmap through a singular and multi-faceted labyrinth. The key to this sonic fresco is in Bumcello’s image – an eclectic aesthetic twinned with a great sense of contrast. Herein lies the trademark of this entity animated by the gift of musical ubiquity, gorged on scales and rhythms, capable of a slap as much as a gentle caress. From classical music to electronics, from improvised music to sophisti-pop, everything is allowed with no preconceived ideas. They can even reclaim the traditions of others, all the better to propel them towards new horizons - this is how the very history of music has always panned out.

If you listen between the lines and look at the details, more than one piece bears witness to the moments and individuals that have impacted the criss-crossing lives of Vincent and Cyril. The track Crash is the perfect excuse to create a Jamaican-style jam with New York inflections, and we can see, in capital letters, the name Hilaire Penda, playing alongside Bumcello at the Apollo Theater in the associated drawing. This bass player from Cameroon, who died on 5th November 2018, was more than just a friend for the two Frenchmen. He was one of the family. Similarly, they give a nod to another Cameroonian, and another departed friend - singer of rock band les Têtes brûlées, Zanzibar, through the vocals of fellow countryman Zanzi. The ghost of Rémi Kolpa Kopul, emblematic voice of Radio Nova, haunts the margins of Spark Av, in a vocal sample with a smattering of effects. As for I Remember Tim, it directly honours the memory of Timothy Jerome Parker, aka The Gift Of Gab, another friend who left us in 2021. Tim is depicted in a drawing with the docks of Oakland in the background, and it’s his alter ego within Blackalicious, Chief Xcel, who remotely added his signature to the track, notably by adding the words of Lateef The Truthspeaker to brass and woodwind sounds.

These are the only additions to Bumcello’s original nucleus, all the better to create a genuine musical concoction where Vincent Taurelle is in charge of production and mixing sessions recorded live and direct. He is also invited for a twinkle on the keys (piano, synths, Wurlitzer, organ), on a handful of tracks. Already at the commands of previous opus Monster Talk, always taking care over the slightest detail, the one that makes all the difference, this pianist is now also part of the family. “Everything he brings is perfect, whether added though slight touches or through very important choices”, say the two members of a combo which today, appears to us under the guise of a trio, adding an extra dimension to a far-reaching mix, in the image of the veiled or more explicit tributes making up the cornerstones of this release.

Booker, a drawing where we see the musicians enter a club, honours James Booker, great pianist from New Orleans who has always fascinated Vincent, in a genre that is off-beat and gender defying. Her Story was created by Cyril in support of the Iranian women’s movement. Aysyen Kampe evokes, even in the original drawing, a tradition that remains impactful for Bumcello – Haitian mysticism, and Ouï Khouïette Ouï conjures up the beats of the Allaoui, a war dance from Western Algeria, one they have taken part in in the past with the help of Cheikha Rabia. They deliver a metal version, original and surprising, especially as Marin Ségal’s drawing features the Nicholas Brothers, those iconic dancers of the 30s jazz scene!

Resolutely hard to pin down, Bumcello’s beats can initially take on the structure of disjointed house, though Sangre begins like a film soundtrack, “in a Mexican style” adds Vincent, who was at the origin of this track. A delicate alap on the cello can open up onto afrobeat rhythms, a well-pitched voice can enchant, like on the amazing The City Has Eyes which has everything of a hummable pop hit. Emblematic of this manner of encompassing all music without being exclusive, Le Grand Sommeil, a direct reference to the Howard Hawks movie inspired by Raymond Chandler, a precursor of David Lynch, begins nice and smooth but ends on a wild tempo, on a drum’n’bass tip, as in the good old days of Cithéa, when this Party story began in the other century.

repressed !

Birthed at the turn of the ‘80s, synth and wave music has remained a constant force over the last four decades, with a recent spike in interest in the sound offering further proof of its’ timeless, out-of-this-world quality. It’s against this backdrop that Dutch DJ Interstellar Funk presents his celebration of the style, “Artificial Dancers – Waves of Synth”.

A bumper compilation bristling with obscure and hard-to-find gems, the set sees the Artificial Dance label founder joining the dots between synthesizer and drum machine-driven tracks in a variety of subtly different styles. It’s the result of hundreds of hours spent digging through dusty old records, tapes, and the Bandcamp accounts of DIY musicians who have been active since the sound’s first boom in the early 1980s.

The 11-track set draws on tracks made and released at different times over the last 40 years, with the earliest cut committed to tape in 1978 and the most recent in 2018. While the tracks date from the ‘80s, ‘90s, noughties and 2010s, the showcased cuts are united by a primitive but futuristic quality that makes dating them difficult. In many cases, it’s hard to tell which tracks were made in the early 1980s and which were conjured up in 21st century studios.

As you’d expect, highlights are plentiful with a number of the most unknown or sought-after cuts appearing on vinyl for the first time. In this category you’ll find the Human League’s odd but inspired early number “4JG”, a near mythical 1982 live version of Liasons Dangereuses’ “Dias Cortas” (previously only available on a VHS video) and Chris and Cosey’s “Hybrid C”, a brilliant mid-’90s cut plucked from their CD-only album “Skimble Skamble”. You’ll also find a rare demo version of Clan of Xymox’s Dutch darkwave classic “Stranger”, which became a club smash across Europe in 1983.

Interstellar Funk has also chosen to showcase tracks by a range of DIY producers and lesser-known artists. These include Californian band Batang Frisco, who self-released a sole private press album in 1986 (their contribution, “Sewing Machine”, is dedicated to founder member Bill DiMichele, who passed away this year), Matthias Schuster’s Im Namen Des Volkes project – which contributes the previously unreleased 2014 track “Alles Ist Gewinn” – and Zahgurim, a short-lived early ‘80s act who reunited in 2018 to record their first new material since 1983.

If that wasn’t enough to set pulses racing, the compilation also showcases a solo track by sadly departed Psyche member Stephen Huss. Nobody is quite sure when Huss recorded “Infinity Sign”, but we can confirm this is the first time that one of his solo productions has ever appeared on vinyl.

White Vinyl Repress

The 12 track album was written and produced since the turn of 2013 and mixed with Erol Alkan at 'The Phantasy Sound', the label's own studio in London.

A difficult trick to master but like Carl Craig's 'More Songs About Food And Revolutionary Art', Plastikman's 'Consumed' or more recently the work of Four Tet, the album works as a cohesive whole rather than a disparate collection of tracks. Innovative and forward thinking, Drone Logic manages to draw influences from beyond the dancefloor via My Bloody Valentine, NEU! and Chris Carter while still having the techno pulse to scale the walls of any club. The wide array of plaudits and early adopters of Avery's music is proof of this, ranging from acid house legends like The Chemical Brothers, Andrew Weatherall and Richie Hawtin to the best of the new breed in Maya Jane Coles, James Holden and Factory Floor.

The last twelve months have been a whirlwind for Henry Counsell and Louis Curran, the men who make up Joy (Anonymous). Having established themselves during the Covid-19 era by playing impromptu meet-ups on London’s South Bank, they have graduated to bigger venues, travelled to far-flung locales and recorded their second album, Cult Classics, while maintaining the spontaneous energy and irrepressible joy that made their name. Their music revels in the euphoria of being alive and all the feelings, good or bad, that come with it. It invites us into a community, draws us close and promises the night of our lives.

Recorded over the course of a year, the blueprint for Cult Classics was laid down over a two-week span at Imogen Heap’s Round House in east London. Joy (Anonymous) invited friends old and new to visit - they’d record live instruments in jam sessions upstairs and then retreat to a second room to flip and loop and generally mess with the sounds, moulding them into sizzling dance tracks. “Loads of people were coming up to me like ‘I thought this was going to be a dance record?’” Louis says, remembering the quietly beautiful music they’d be recording. “I’d be like, don’t worry about that, just keep playing.” He’d send it back to people later and they’d be floored - “That was my bit and you’ve made it... jungle!”

It was an organic and creatively fulfilling approach, one that didn’t allow any of the music to get stale or stagnate. As they built the tracks from the sounds they’d collected, Joy (Anonymous) would weave the new songs into their famously improvised live sets, testing them, refining them, taking note of the audiences’ reactions. In a year punctuated by a lot of travel, they’d also incorporate the voices of people they met along the way - “Beazley’s Poem”, which opens the record, features the words of a man who was working security at a Fred Again show at New York’s Terminal Five. “He was basically doing the opposite of his job and being a hype man, climbing on the fence and ramping up the crowd - we ended up hanging out with him - like, who’s this legend?” Louis explains. “He just speaks really amazingly about his life, all these amazing thoughts and opinions - he started jumping on the mic when we were playing, preaching these amazing messages to the crowd, like that we all need to be nicer to each other. The first time we played the record in its entirety, he introduced us and that’s the recording we’ve used.”

Joy (Anonymous) remain dedicated to the spirit of spontaneity. They shut a street down with a surprise waterside party in New York. On a trip to Copenhagen they played an impromptu set in a cafe, which turned into a house party and a night-long good time. In Lithuania, they ended up playing in a decommissioned prison. It’s harder, perhaps, to keep that spirit alive now that they are operating more within the confines of the music industry but they will keep lugging their kit to wherever the party calls for as long as they can. “I think if we lose that, we’ve kind of lost what makes us us,” Henry says.

Bursting with multi-genre reference points and disparate influences, Cult Classics is very much a dance album. The samples we made ourselves or we took from music that is quite different to dance music, but we definitely wanted to shout out a lot of the dance influences that we love,” Henry says. They listened to a lot of Daft Punk and Basement Jaxx as well as The Prodigy (“more rage stuff”), taking songwriting tips from their dance forebears, but also recording bits that felt more like jazz and motown (see: A Place I Belong and the lovely album closer, You’re In Or You’re Out). Emir Taha’s gentle classical guitar runs like a thread throughout Cult Classics, washing into the undertones of the record, tying it all together.

The album follows the beat of a night out, from frenetic, sweaty movement to the gentler winding down as the dawn breaks. At times it is euphoric, celebratory and pure, whirling fun, at others it seeks the joy in the darker emotions that life throws our way. 404 is designed to encapsulate everything about the Joy (Anonymous) journey so far. Skittering beats and ghostly vocals give way to vibrating house chords: sirens blare as we approach a dubstep drop. It’s dramatic and wild, ratcheting up, seeming to settle then hitting you with an intense and frantic breakdown before the ghostly vocal returns to lull us back into the world. It has the feel of a hungry cat playing with a mouse, toying with it before letting it get away.

What sounds like someone playing the spoons on playful, housey How We End Up Here is actually Louis’ restless habit of clicking his rings on everything, one of a myriad of calling cards and easter eggs that day one fans will recognise. They rework Miley Cyrus and Swae Lee’s Party Up The Street into a French-electro-inspired future classic, adding a note of melancholy to a tune that you can imagine hearing blaring from every car on a summer drive. The lyrics on Cult Classic are generally reassuring, inspirational, originally drawn from Henry in stream-of-consciousness freestyles. You’re fine the way you are, they seem to say - the repeated “No need to try” of A Place I Belong, the assurance that “It’s in me all the time” on In Me All The Time. Even the summery but regretful Did You Wrong hints at the growth that is possible from less than ideal behaviour. For Joy (Anonymous), joy isn’t about just being “happy” all the time - it’s about relishing every element of your being.

The name ‘Joy (Anonymous)’ is taken from the work Henry did with Alcoholics Anonymous groups: it is a way to build a community around sharing joy. Their impromptu live sets are known as ‘meetings’; they encourage fans to share moments of joy to their website. They care deeply about the scene they’ve come up in and are determined not to leave it behind. Every show is another chance to reach out and connect with people who love to come together and revel in music as loud as it can go.

Support slots for Fred Again and The Streets, wild B2Bs with Fred and Skrillex, and a set at Four Tet’s Finsbury Park all-dayer this summer have given the duo the opportunity to live out childhood dreams and introduced their infectious live shows to new audiences at huge venues.

With an album as assured and joyful as Cult Classics on the horizon (and a killer collab with The Blessed Madonna coming up), they’re only going to reach higher heights. But the essence of Joy (Anonymous) remains on the South Bank. Between shows at Ally Pally in September, they dragged their camping chairs and gear back down to the banks of the Thames: and it just felt right.

There's a buzz building around Australia’s Featherstone and his debut EP for the UK's Gated cements his reputation for acidic, emotive electro. These four tracks see the Adelaide-based artist with one eye on the dancefloor and one on pulling as much soul as he can from his gear. This is glassy-eyed stuff, deeply melodic but punchy as hell, with all four tracks hitting hard

Limitierte Neuauflage zum 20-jährigen Jubiläum des Bonobo Klassikers. Durchsichtiges Doppelvinyl (140g) in Outersleeve mit Drehmechanismus und neuem Jubiläums-Artwork.

Bush Tetras have made punk music at the fringes for over four decades. Flashes of reggae, bursts of noise, guitars that rattle, shake and snake, born out of a gutter behind CBGBs. Over the years they have respawned time and time again, contorting their sound, tweaking the vision, remaining singular and indispensable. In the late 2010s the group-Pat Place, Cynthia Sley, and Dee Pop-reformed again, releasing an EP, Take the Fall, in 2018. It was their first offering of new music in over a decade. A few years later in, 2021, they released a career spanning box set called Rhythm and Paranoia. The New York Times called the box set an artifact that "proves for decades that Bush Tetras continued to evolve in surprising yet intuitive directions." Around the same time, the band began working on a full length record, writing sessions during the pandemic over Zoom. Right before the release of the box set, beloved drummer Dee Pop passed away. Determined to complete the record to honor his memory, the Tetras went into the studio to finish what they'd started, once the timing was right. They brought in a new drummer, Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley, who also served as producer. Enter They Live in My Head. The band's 3rd official LP (a misleading fact when viewed along - side a catalog as expansive as it is influential), They Live in My Head is a collection of songs that sometimes reflect on the past and sometimes reckon with our current reality. From "Ghosts of People," on which Pat Place's legendary guitar meanders through closed doors and portals, to the scorching "2020 Vision," a matter- of-fact call to arms to get on the streets and get something done, the album addresses new and old, in both abstract and specific terms. But whether they're looking forward or backward, Bush Tetras have always been a political band, a band that calls out all kinds of bullshit. And, in that sense, They Live in My Head is absolutely no exception.

Bush Tetras have made punk music at the fringes for over four decades. Flashes of reggae, bursts of noise, guitars that rattle, shake and snake, born out of a gutter behind CBGBs. Over the years they have respawned time and time again, contorting their sound, tweaking the vision, remaining singular and indispensable. In the late 2010s the group-Pat Place, Cynthia Sley, and Dee Pop-reformed again, releasing an EP, Take the Fall, in 2018. It was their first offering of new music in over a decade. A few years later in, 2021, they released a career spanning box set called Rhythm and Paranoia. The New York Times called the box set an artifact that "proves for decades that Bush Tetras continued to evolve in surprising yet intuitive directions." Around the same time, the band began working on a full length record, writing sessions during the pandemic over Zoom. Right before the release of the box set, beloved drummer Dee Pop passed away. Determined to complete the record to honor his memory, the Tetras went into the studio to finish what they'd started, once the timing was right. They brought in a new drummer, Sonic Youth's Steve Shelley, who also served as producer. Enter They Live in My Head. The band's 3rd official LP (a misleading fact when viewed along - side a catalog as expansive as it is influential), They Live in My Head is a collection of songs that sometimes reflect on the past and sometimes reckon with our current reality. From "Ghosts of People," on which Pat Place's legendary guitar meanders through closed doors and portals, to the scorching "2020 Vision," a matter- of-fact call to arms to get on the streets and get something done, the album addresses new and old, in both abstract and specific terms. But whether they're looking forward or backward, Bush Tetras have always been a political band, a band that calls out all kinds of bullshit. And, in that sense, They Live in My Head is absolutely no exception.

William The Conqueror's fourth album finds the indie-rock triofiring onall cylinders as frontman Ruarri Joseph confronts the thin linebetween creativity and madness, inspired by compassion for thereal-life angels of the world.Produced by the band in aplayground of vintage gear and mixed byBarny Barnicott (Arctic Monkeys, Sam Fender, Kasabian), the resultingalbum's ten tracks marry earworm tunes with insistent, imperious,soaring rock shapes, punctuated by chorus hooks that aresimultaneously nuanced and anthemic.Joseph's compelling semi-spoken vocals and swamp-blues-Seattle-scuzz guitars are propelled by the rhythm section of Naomi Holmes(bass) and Harry Harding (drums) as Excuse Me While I Vanish deliversan effortlessly winning blend of melody and ensemble dynamics, themost accomplished and undeniable William The Conqueror album todate.

William The Conqueror's fourth album finds the indie-rock triofiring onall cylinders as frontman Ruarri Joseph confronts the thin linebetween creativity and madness, inspired by compassion for thereal-life angels of the world.Produced by the band in aplayground of vintage gear and mixed byBarny Barnicott (Arctic Monkeys, Sam Fender, Kasabian), the resultingalbum's ten tracks marry earworm tunes with insistent, imperious,soaring rock shapes, punctuated by chorus hooks that aresimultaneously nuanced and anthemic.Joseph's compelling semi-spoken vocals and swamp-blues-Seattle-scuzz guitars are propelled by the rhythm section of Naomi Holmes(bass) and Harry Harding (drums) as Excuse Me While I Vanish deliversan effortlessly winning blend of melody and ensemble dynamics, themost accomplished and undeniable William The Conqueror album todate.

"Darkness Darkness" and "No Services" are songs by Kieran Hebden (Four Tet) and William Tyler. The first song "Darkness, Darkness" contains samples from Gloria Loring's version of "Darkness, Darkness". The songs were produced by Kieran Hebden. The guitar was perfomed by William Tyler and recorded by Jake David at huge Planet in Nashville.

Kusōzu : Nine Death Stages is the second album by the Tokyo trio Archeus, which consists of Keiko Higuchi (voice, percussion, trombone, shamisen), Shizuo Uchida (bass strings), and TOMO (hurdy gurdy, voice). It follows their debut, self-titled and self-released CD and cassette from 2021 and is further proof – if any were needed – that these musicians, who’ve known each other for some time, but only started playing together relatively recently, share a telepathic communication, improvising together, fully in the moment, and as one. Where their debut album featured four extended improvisations, Kusōzu is an object lesson in economy and clarity – nine tracks, thirty-three minutes, everything that needs be said and nothing more.

All three musicians are incredibly active in the Japanese underground. Higuchi currently plays with Sachiko in Albedo Fantastica, adding Uchida for Albedo Gravitas; Uchida and Higuchi team up with Masami Kawaguchi (guitar) in vDBG. She’s also recorded with improvisers such as Naoto Yamagishi, Yasumune Morishige, and Shin-Ichiro Kanda. Uchida is also a member of MAI MAO, Kito-Mizukumi Rouber, Hasegawa-Shizuo, UH, and TERROR SHIT, and he’s recently recorded with improvising guitarist Takashi Masubuchi; TOMO has previously been a member of Tetragrammaton and Pouring High Water, and has recently performed live with Mick of Kousokuya, Mitsuru Tabata, Keiji Haino, and Daisuke Takaoka.

While Higuchi and Uchida have been making music together for some time now, they appear careful not to impose their previously articulated lexicon to bear on Archeus. There are trace elements of their playerly voices still present – the stretchy, plastic scrabbling on bass strings from Uchida; Higuchi’s murmurations of tone, and sudden plunges back down to earth, vertiginous and woozy – but there are other things going on here, particularly with TOMO joining in the action. His hurdy gurdy is a wild card in a group of wild cards, here cranking out burred, purring drones, there fidgeting through floods of notes, cranked up really high, ducking and weaving between Higuchi and Uchida as the three pursue the eternal now that is core to the best improvised music.

Archeus seem to work alchemically, transmuting their base matter into gold. Named after the Buddhist art practice of kusōzu, the graphic painting of nine stages of a decaying corpse in the open air, “to demonstrate the effects of impermanence,” as scholar Gail Chin once wrote.

Kusōzu : Nine Death Stages is Archeus at their most rigorously attentive to each other’s playing, and by the end, the music is itself thinking and feeling.

Much anticipated debut album from this Leeds-based electronic duo, following high-profile UK festival slots, and shows alongside luminaries The Brian Jonestown Massacre, Warmduscher, Sea Power, Moonlandingz, The KVB, with multiple plays across BBC6/BBC Introducing and Amazing Radio, jellyskin are finally ready to unleash ‘In Brine’, their first full length release. The result of four years spent writing, recording, and refining the album between Leeds, Liverpool, Bristol, Palamos, and Berlin, ‘In Brine’ showcases the many talents of Will Ainsley and Zia Larty-Healy in a work straddling iridescent electronica, tungsten-tipped techno, art pop, and queasy, brown acid folk. The songs are pieced together with themes of longing, misadventure by the sea, desire and aquatic apparitions that showcase Larty-Healy’s warm but urgent vocal range, as at home around the campfire as it is in the club. The pair’s meticulous arrangement and rearrangement, sculpting, recording, and mixing was a glacially slow process of adaptation, mutation, cooperation, growth, and, yes, natural selection. First single ‘Bringer of Brine’ thumps from the speaker anthemically and forcefully, pitched somewhere beautiful and uncanny; Larty-Healy’s vocals soar and skim off the production like a smooth stone across choppy waves. The radio-ready pop electronica of ‘I Was The First Tetrapod’ bursts into the world with an urgency in line with the lyrics. An aquatic tale of crawling onto land for the first time, desperate to make new life forms, it’s also a positive, joyful rebuke to the despair of the world around us. “Growing my legs...”. The fuzzed-out psychedelic keys and forward-moving, Knife-like structure echo throughout while beautiful lyrics detail visions of where this would all lead life as we know it-“I can run freely, white horse behind me. Flexing my bones and artery twine, find human tone and reach for the vine.” ‘Fox Again’ opens with chopped alarm clocks segueing into a lurching rhythm, before exploding into skittering beats and a soaring chorus. The effect is like waking up drowsily, going over to the window in your room and yanking open the curtains to be blasted by searing sunshine. The pair brought in Berlin based co-producer, mixer and masterer Lewis D-t to help finesse the tracks into fat-free hunks of ecstasy and sonic exploration, their rich depths marking ‘In Brine’ as an album everyone should be talking about this summer and beyond-all nine tracks will have feet moving and hearts swelling in equal measure. As opening track ‘Lift (Come In)’ positively opines “Going up!/Just want to keep going up!”. It’s time to get in on the ground floor

Repress 2023!

Auf John Talabots Debütalbum "Fin" aus dem Jahr 2012 "baut der spanische Produzent auf seinem unverwechselbaren Sound auf - farbenfroh, nostalgisch, aber niemals retro, locker, aber leicht verwirrt - ohne sich zu wiederholen. ... Talabot ist zu einem Vorbild für eine neue Generation von Produzenten geworden, die an der Schnittstelle von Deep House, Disco und Indie-Pop arbeiten, und er hat sich seine eigene Nische irgendwo zwischen der Zeitlupen-Theatralik von Künstlern wie ... den weltumspannenden Juwelentönen von Four Tet und Caribou und dem Psych-Pop-Rausch von Animal Collective und Delorean geschaffen. ... Seine langsamen Tempi, übersättigten Farben und tropischen Akzente passen genau zu der benebelten, feuchten Tanzmusik, die derzeit in Mode ist, und er hat sich in einer geschätzten Kompanie wiedergefunden - er remixt The XX ...". Pitchfork Media - Kandidat für das Album des Jahres 2012.