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Gemma Ray takes an unexpected detour from her
acclaimed psych-soul and torch song oeuvre with
a hard-edged experiment in cinematic electronica.
Epic despite its underlying simplicity and groove,
‘Gemma Ray & The Death Bell Gang’ blends the
funereal and the sinister with tenderness and
yearning, with a dash of automaton-pop and a
Dada-esque playfulness for good measure. Front
and centre are Gemma’s trademark stirring voice
and harmonies.
Released on eco-mix and splatter coloured vinyl
formats, with download card and exclusive pull-out
poster by British painter Deryk Thomas (Swans,
Angels of Light).
The record was recorded at Tempelhof Flughafen
in Berlin and features collaborations from sound
designer Ralf Goldkind (Fantastichen Vier, Mona
Mur), lap steel player Kristof Hahn (Swans), and
syncussion by Andy Zammit (Jon Spencer).
Accompanying videos for the singles ‘Come
Oblivion’, ‘Howling’ and ‘Procession’ by animator
Lucy Dyson (Paul McCartney, Beyonce, Courtney
Barnett).

Pharoah Sanders' "Shukuru" is noteworthy as being the album that reunited Sanders with vocalist Leon Thomas, who sang on some of Sanders' most endearing and powerful compositions-- among them the legendary "The Creator Has a Masterplan".

Thomas only joins the band on two tracks-- "Mas in Brooklyn (Highlife)" and "Sun Song". The former gets a full calypso reading complete with steel drum sounds and chanted vocals traded between Sanders and Thomas. It's a lot of fun, but by and large, throwaway. The latter is one of the true gems on the album-- a pretty ballad that serves as both a launching point for Sanders' best balladry and Thomas' vocal, with the latter soaring in his upper register wordlessly between verses intoned in his trademark baritone. It's by and large simply stunning.

The rest of the record has got its issues however, and by and large this comes in the part of Henderson's synthesizer-- while his piano tone is virtually indistinguishable from an acoustic piano, several tracks receive irritating synth vocals or strings (it's really hard to tell which, it's fairly indistinct and obnoxious), mangling otherwise fine performances of traditional tenor feature "Body and Soul", Sanders-penned "Jitu" (although admittedly the leader manages such a powerful solo it gets past it) and an absolutely breathtaking reading of "Too Young to Go Steady". At least opener "Shukuru" and closing funereal piece "For Big George" are spared this as the use of synths of them are far more tasteful (although one questions Sanders' choice to intone his wife's name over the former's smokey lines, but that's another story). by Vine Voice

SoiSong is the stunning but short-lived partnership of Coil co-founder Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson and veteran Russian electronic experimentalist Ivan Pavlov. Though friends since 1997, the project birthed roughly a decade later in Bangkok, where Christopherson relocated following the death of his Coil collaborator John Balance in 2004. Named after the Thai word for `two' along with a notorious red-light district street nearby, the duo dialed into a cryptic language of lurching synthetics, Eastern minimalism, and interdimensional glitch, oscillating between elegance and mayhem. qXn948s collects some of their earliest recordings, and remains as transgressive and transcendent a listen now as it was upon its release a decade and a half ago. Pavlov characterizes SoiSong as less a musical group than a "utopian, semi-alien platform for collaboration, devoid of pronounced personality or centralized authority_ more like a message from elsewhere that anyone is welcome to participate in and spread." Every facet of the project was disruptive and oblique: self-released CDs packaged in elaborate origami that had to be destroyed to be accessed; a website with password protected sections, where different passwords were provided for different events, objects or releases; performance merchandise of headphones and a Walkman melted shut so the music can only be heard as long as the set of batteries last. Theirs was a muse as unprecedented as it was uncompromising, equal parts pranks and profundity. qXn948s began with samples and software composed intuitively in tandem before a large monitor, then progressively processed and scrambled into bewildering arrangements of digital frequencies, alternately spartan and claustrophobic, uneasy and uncanny. Vignettes of small melody emerge and are obliterated; gamelan-esque tones spiral above cybernetic pulse programming and funereal didgeridoo; skeletal piano meanders in the distance while flickering circuitry pummels patterns of white noise. Pavlov describes his and Christopherson's chemistry as "unspoken and sincere, and very efficient." That music this aggressively disorienting and complex congealed in a smoothly organic fashion is testament to the rare vision of its creators.

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SoiSong is the stunning but short-lived partnership of Coil co-founder Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson and veteran Russian electronic experimentalist Ivan Pavlov. Though friends since 1997, the project birthed roughly a decade later in Bangkok, where Christopherson relocated following the death of his Coil collaborator John Balance in 2004. Named after the Thai word for `two' along with a notorious red-light district street nearby, the duo dialed into a cryptic language of lurching synthetics, Eastern minimalism, and interdimensional glitch, oscillating between elegance and mayhem. qXn948s collects some of their earliest recordings, and remains as transgressive and transcendent a listen now as it was upon its release a decade and a half ago. Pavlov characterizes SoiSong as less a musical group than a "utopian, semi-alien platform for collaboration, devoid of pronounced personality or centralized authority_ more like a message from elsewhere that anyone is welcome to participate in and spread." Every facet of the project was disruptive and oblique: self-released CDs packaged in elaborate origami that had to be destroyed to be accessed; a website with password protected sections, where different passwords were provided for different events, objects or releases; performance merchandise of headphones and a Walkman melted shut so the music can only be heard as long as the set of batteries last. Theirs was a muse as unprecedented as it was uncompromising, equal parts pranks and profundity. qXn948s began with samples and software composed intuitively in tandem before a large monitor, then progressively processed and scrambled into bewildering arrangements of digital frequencies, alternately spartan and claustrophobic, uneasy and uncanny. Vignettes of small melody emerge and are obliterated; gamelan-esque tones spiral above cybernetic pulse programming and funereal didgeridoo; skeletal piano meanders in the distance while flickering circuitry pummels patterns of white noise. Pavlov describes his and Christopherson's chemistry as "unspoken and sincere, and very efficient." That music this aggressively disorienting and complex congealed in a smoothly organic fashion is testament to the rare vision of its creators.

On the album Opening, Tord Gustavsen reveals a fresh angle to his
particularly unique trio investigations into Scandinavian folk hymns,
gospel, chorale and jazz, as he introduces a different voice on bass
With a new fellow- traveller on board and its recording premiere in Lugano's
Auditorio Stelio Molo, the trio discovers inspired new ways to interact with each
other, using innovative approaches to sound and technique in the process. Made
up in equal parts of intricately textured improvisations and understated melodic
hooks, the group's conversations bring an enticing unfamiliarity to the language
the Norwegian pianist has developed over almost two decades of collaboration
with ECM.
Tord Gustavsen: piano, electronics
Steinar Raknes: double bass, electronics
Jarle Vespestad: drums
Press:
"Vibrates between the introspective and the dramatic in rich and singular ways.
Scene-setting opener 'The Circle' sees Gustavsen exploring a modal melodic line
of beguiling simplicity, with the trio's sotto voce approach creating an atmosphere
of hushed intimacy." - **** Jazzwise (Editor's Choice)
"The focus of Opening remains the playing from Gustavsen and the rich
accompaniment from his fellow musicians, creating an atmosphere perfect for a
walk by a cabin at dawn, with the sun peeking in through the trees." - Pitchfork
"Norwegian piano star Tord Gustavsen's long-honed recipe of low-key folk songs,
gospel, classical music and jazz gets a graceful makeover on Opening - with new
bassist Steinar Raknes, a player of uncannily responsive precision alongside
regular percussionist Jarle Vespestad, while subtle electronics sometimes create
ghostly horn-player effects." - The Guardian
"For Gustavsen, pieces such as Floytelat and Vaer Sterk, Min Sjel are routes into
the sort of cerebral mysteries that the former church pianist has made his own.
The first is a funereal theme where the notes he sprinkles like raindrops build into
a fatalistic flood. The second, from the Norwegian Hymnal, is played with an
innocent simplicity. Both are equally powerful...Remarkable music, Norwegian
blues." - The Times
"Quietly beguiling release...With lesser artists the uniformity of mood and
reluctance to turn up the volume would pall. But there's an artistry to Gustavsen's
compositions, a skill in their execution, and a warmth to their spirit that keeps the
listener engaged." - LondonJazz News

LIMITED WHITE VINYL EDITION OF THE 1992 DEBUT OF ATMOSPHERIC
DEATH/DOOM FROM THE DUTCH LEGENDS, MARKING THE ALBUM'S
30th ANNIVERSARY. The Gathering is a Dutch alternative rock band &
was founded in 1989 by brothers Hans & René Rutten & vocalist Bart
Smits
The early incarnation of the band featured a much more death & doom metalbased style than the more atmospheric rock & experimental music they became
known for over the years, having enjoyed a highly successful career globally over
a 20-year period. The band recorded 2 demos initially before making their studio
debut with 'Always…'. 'Always…' was The Gathering's debut full- length album.
Originally released in 1992 , it is a prime example of classic atmospheric death/
doom metal with brutal vocals & slow funereal riffing influenced by bands such as
Celtic Frost, as well as the implementation of keyboards to accentuate the dark
ambience. Now released on Peaceville for the first time, a track from the release
was even featured on an early Peaceville Records compilation, 'Volume 4', with
the track 'In Sickness & Health'.

Deathbomb Arc is very excited to be working with Pumpkin Witch yet again for another vinyl edition, this time of their 2nd album 'In The Frightful Gaze of the Pumpkin Witch'! Never before available on vinyl, this raw and, of course spooky, dungeon synth classic is full of dead leaf incantations and brutally minimal no-fi mad doctor rhythms. All hail the Pumpkin Witch!

There are records with empathy, records which are your friends and then there's the others... There might be little difference between them, a certain "je ne sais quoi", an "almost nothing but still something" which makes the difference between almost pointless and vital records. Despite, or rather thanks to his cynical despair, Matt Elliott's music never holds up a moralizing mirror to us - on the contrary, it creates a compassionate dialogue with listeners like the rhythm of two steps that synchronize to become as one. In 2016, Matt Elliot brought out his seventh solo album The Calm Before whose obscure title is neither exactly threatening nor comforting... the calm before what? Before the storm for sure but maybe also before the great record, the immediate classic we felt might be coming for a long time in the dual discography of the Bristol-born artist working under his own name and his electronic alias Third Eye Foundation. The elegant details and perspectives of Little Lost Soul (2000) already hinted at the upcoming masterpiece from the English singer-songwriter. The Mess We Made (2003) was Matt Elliott's first solo album and portrayed a universe in a kind of flight towards Balkan horizons made up of visceral despair. With the Songs trilogy, he put aside the electronic side of his work to continue working with a minimalist, stark and lucid style of writing. The Broken Man (2012) was full of tears and long laments sometimes carried by Katia Labèque's piano on a record which painted new shades of grey. On this record Matt began working with the producer, arranger and multi-instrumentalist David Chalmin (La Terre Invisible) who has kept on collaborating with the Bristol-born singer since then. Their partnership continued on Only Myocardial Infection Can Break Your Heart (2013) and The Calm Before (2016). Stéphane Grégoire is the head of the Ici D'Ailleurs label which has accompanied Matt Elliott since 2005 and perhaps he describes this album the best: "This new record by Matt is without a doubt his best album to date, a record that takes him into another dimension where he fully asserts himself as a songwriter and singer of the calibre of artists like Bill Callahan, Leonard Cohen or Johnny Cash." Matt Elliott's other records all seemed like empathic links between each other. Farewell To All We Know is an instant classic based on the sensitive piano and superb arrangements of David Chalmin, the sensitive cello of Gaspar Claus, the subtle bass of Jeff Hallam (who has also played with Dominique A and John Parish). There is a clear form of alchemy in all of this and still we find Matt Elliott's usual atmospheres and scenery, the same Eastern European folk music, long songs that take time to settle over time. Everything is the same but also is transfigured. By making his music stark and purifying and redefining the subject matter, Matt Elliott's work became so much more delicate. However this work is never frail nor really turned in on himself and thus becomes like a vital tune that vibrates and unfolds. The opening song Farewell To All We Know seems torn between the fear of what tomorrow may bring, inevitability and hope for the future in a permanent and progressive dramatic tension expressed by his Spanish guitar, the impressionist style piano and Matt's voice teetering on the edge of whispers. A funereal tribute to endless twilights and the dawns we all dream of seeing. There are touches of Leonard Cohen from Songs from a Room or Thanks For The Dance in The Day After That with Gaspar Claus's counterpoint cello. There is no spirit of resignation in Matt Elliott's work - life's path has to be followed against all odds. We have to follow the river's flow to reach the immense ocean and its infinite freedom. The haunted instrumental Guidance Is Internal harks back to the atmospheres of Howling Songs (2008) with its guitar parts full of scansions and muted threats. The music is transcendental but never seems afraid of the risk of falling. This is also what Bye Now tells us with its quasi-obsolete simplicity and sunburst melancholy reminiscent of the work of Luiz Bonfá, Bill Evans on Peace Piece or laidback crooners of the 50s. In Farewell To All We Know, Matt Elliott incessantly alternates between the dual desires to face up to the world or to protect himself from it. Hating The Player, Hating The Game is a lucid statement about the dullness of our daily lives sometimes, our right to get out of the game and no longer want to be part of it. Matt Elliott is tender but spares no one, particularly himself. Aboulia speaks of the tiredness of living and of looming death while Crisis Apparition says that there is always a time for reconstruction after chaos. This is like initially wearying wandering in the ruins of Aleppo with the slow dilution of the melody into a hallucinated drone. However the smell of great fires always fades and the earth always regenerates. Matt Elliott seems to suggest that the survival instinct is stronger than any cold winds could ever be. Matt Elliott never sings of certainties and prefers possibilities. Possibly the worst is over? Maybe... Maybe the storm has passed and devastated everything, now we just have to rebuild and live again. Farewell To All We Know shows us the distance that still needs to be walked and he walks next to you - right next to you, he is the friend who doesn't spare you the truth like all true friends really do.

Founded in Amsterdam in 1967 by saxophonist Willem Breuker, pianist Misha Mengelberg, and percussionist Han Bennink, Instant Composers Pool (or ICP) was an independent free jazz label and orchestra that would go on to release over fifty albums featuring such pillars of the scene as Derek Bailey, Peter Brötzmann, Evan Parker, Jeanne Lee, John Tchicai, and Steve Lacy. Based around the concept that improvisation was, in fact, an act of instantaneous composition, ICP's legacy on improvised and free music is impossible to overstate.

The ICP Tentet's Tetterettet is made up of recordings from 14-17 of September, 1977, cut and spliced together by pianist/composer Misha Mengelberg in a style similar to Teo Macero's work with Miles Davis. The first side is taken up entirely by Mengelberg's multi-part title track that breaks in and out of different tempos, with a loose arrangement style owing more than a bit to Charles Mingus' finest work on Black Saint or Ah Um.

Traversing across decades and styles from free-jazz funereal marches, to carnivalesque excursions, broken piano rolls, and ear-splitting skronk, ICP Tentet show remarkable skill and chops in both their compositional craft and improvisational symbiosis. There's a playful undercurrent here that finds its home in some previously uncharted land between Mingus and Spike Jones.

Featuring numerous ICP regulars along with the brilliant Alan Silva on bass, and a return to the fold of the amazing saxophonist John Tchicai, Tetterettet is one of the best of ICP's larger group recordings; humorous, unnerving, and ultimately, quite beautiful. This limited-edition reissue marks the first time this album has been in print on vinyl since its initial release.

In 1991 Coil released the third of their early classic full-length albums “Love’s Secret Domain”, seemingly casting aside the gloom
and funereal beauty of its predecessors in favour of a painstakingly multi-layered hallucinogenic electronic beast, which unlike
some of their fellow ex-industrial contemporaries’ releases of the time wasn’t an attempt at easy accessibility or (the-godsforbid) danceability, but a vibrating psychedelic masterpiece unrivalled in their discography and still a landmark album.
To mark its 30 year anniversary Infinite Fog are beyond proud to present an expanded, fully remastered re-release of this fan
favourite available for the first time ever in its entirety on vinyl with 10 rare and mostly unreleased tracks and alternative
versions from the period added as a bonus to a luxurious 3LP/2CD set.
Love’s Secret Domain contains among its many highlights the Lynchian William Blake tribute of its title track and the
intoxicating single “Windowpane”, original versions of the later Coil live staple “Teenage Lightning” and the majestically warped
classicisms of “Chaostrophy”. Marc Almond guests on the typhonian “Titan Arch” and This Heat’s Charles Hayward provides
some amazing drum stylings.
This album is Coil pushing their sound ideas and probably their sanity to their very limits. Beyond the iconic Steven Stapleton
cover art here reproduced in unseen definition the doors of perception still open wide for both long-term Coil aficionados and
new-comers to this supremely innovative release to explore unknown depths. The long-overdue re-release illustrates how far
ahead of the curve Coil were with the sounds on this album, which still sounds as fresh and mind-blowing as it did back in the
early 90s.

Michael Mayer’s latest EP, Brainwave Technology, comes at you purposeful, stealthy and sly. It’s a glorious left turn for the redoubtable producer, one that sees his typically lean and lithe productions buffed to a metallic, futurist sheen. There’s a gleam in the eyes of tracks like “Brainwave Technology” and “Alpha” that speaks of serious fun, of the intersection of the pleasure zone and the frontal lobe.

“Brainwave Technology” itself is informed by Mayer’s deep dive into the thorny terrain of artificial intelligence, transhumanism and posthumanism. Inspired by reading German philosopher Richard David Precht, Mayer found himself heading down the “proverbial rabbit hole,” as he describes it, “watching hours of YouTube material by self-proclaimed prophets of these ‘inevitable’ changes to come.” Never one to be taken in by the egotist’s dance, Mayer’s cynicism about the whole endeavour is tempered, a little, by the deeper questions that these figures gesture towards: “Is it really an evolutionary step that man and machine become one? Or is it rather a marketing plot by Silicon Valley billionaires?”

On “Brainwave Technology”, Mayer plays the charlatans at their own game, turning their logic against them by exposing the fruitiness of their ‘visions’. “I chose irony as my sword with which I chopped off some quotes from some of those batshit crazy prophets and self-promoters,” he explains of the drooling psychobabble he drops in the track’s lacuna. There’s a sense of humour here – how could you not laugh at these hungover egotists? – but there’s levity too, a sense that Mayer’s using sound to expose the contradictions and double-speak at the heart of these half-formed ideas. It’s a Burroughsian tactic, to slice into the heart of the voice to see what hidden truths surface.

It was Burroughs, too, who once said that “when you cut into the past, the future leaks out”; Brainwave Technology cuts into the logic of the futurologist to leak out the messiness of modern reality. On “Alpha” and “Gamma”, Mayer seems to conjure up the stark, ominous music that’d soundtrack a science fiction reinterpretation – or preinterpretation – of our modern malaise, all funereal wreaths of electronic noise and clatterboxing beats. As the EP resolves with “Device For The Young At Heart”, Mayer’s questions are piling up: “Do we want to become immortal and live on as a download? Do we really give up on Earth and put all our effort into colonising Mars?” There are no answers, of course, but plenty of imaginings-to-be. Brainwave Technology soundtracks both dystopian and utopian possibilities of what could come next.

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Post-punk/new wave hero Ann Margaret Hogan’s second album of solo piano and field recordings for Downwards is a box of subtle wonders, mastered by Veronica Vasicka and highly recommended if yr into Satie, Virginia Astley, Sarah Davachi.
A weight of history flows through Hogan’s keys with a stark intimacy, beautifully illuminated by naturally effortless, quietly grand songwriting. It’s a direct continuation of the landscaped themes
and atavism of 2020’s ‘Honeysuckle Burials’ and the ‘Reversing Into Tomorrow’ collaboration with Karl O’Connor, vividly capturing the slow passage of time in a way that has quite literally compelled
us to stop the relentless mind-grind for its 40 minute duration on more than one occasion.
After previous fixations on the iron age forts and burial mounds of the Clywdian Range in North Wales, Hogan transmutes the scenery of her more immediate locale, Oxton on The Wirral - from the cadence of its red sandstone landmark Thor’s Rock, to memories of its boating lake, for example - into a quiet yet ravishing suite inflected with traces of wildlife and industry recorded on long walks, all subsumed within a deep blue estuarial atmosphere silted by the strange reality of life in
the current era, echoing the surreal, sunny period when the album was conceived.
A generation on from her pivotal work with spar Marc Almond and likes of Deux Filles and Nick Cave, and forty generations since The Wirral hosted, as she says “a Norse parliament at Thingwall”,
Hogan weaves time and place into a reflective, funereal sort of parlour music, turning daily ambulations amid the gorse and under luminous skies into gorgeous, life affirming and intimate self expressions.
The eight pieces are mostly improvised and flow with a free, fleeting concision from the palpable warmth of ‘Forgotten Prelude’ and bluesy ache of ‘Fragile Elements’ to more funereal modes in ’Mesto’ and ‘Funeral Cargo’ suggestive of a Viking burial soundtrack. At its core, ‘Wolfswalzer’, a dedication to her one time collaborator and erstwhile Kraftwerk member Wolfgang Flür - is described by Hogan as “a simple waltz of coffee, food, friends and music”, and ‘Impromptu’ is the
album’s slowest, soaked in the feeling of atmospheric immanence that defines the album’s timeless appeal. It’s an unspeakably moving album, words really do it no justice.

Excelsior! It’s the hail of yore that one should go ever onward and upward. And so, fittingly Onwards and Downwards is the occultist Swedish band Alastor’s clever call to arms... and also a reflection of our collective dark state of mind these days.
“If our last album Slave to the Grave were about death, this record is more about madness,” says guitarist Hampus Sandell. “You can look at the whole record as one person’s gradual slip into insanity. An ongoing nightmare without end. It also sums up the state of the world around us as this year has clearly shown.”
Alastor is heavy doom rock for the wicked and depraved. Drenched in heavy, distorted darkness and steeped in occult horror that will make your skin crawl and ears cry sweet tears of blood, the band is revitalized in 2021 with meticulously crafted songs and new drummer Jim Nordström bringing a hard-hitting and precise energy.
“It’s a more focused record but at the same time it’s more personal and naked. More raw emotion and pain,” Hampus says. The band recorded the album with the help of Joona Hassinen of Studio Underjord, who has helped with mixing since their ”Blood on Satan’s Claw” EP in 2017. Christoffer Karlsson of The Dahmers also assisted with overdubs and encouraged the band to demo the material early on, aiding in the album’s more deliberate and tighter feel.
From the first note of opener “The Killer In My Skull” the guitars are far thicker and out front than ever, and Nordström pummels the snare and kick like a young Dave Grohl. Bassist/vocalist Robin Arnryd’s chorus-drenched voice soars above it all like a one-man choir, at times harmonizing beautifully with shimmering Hammond organ notes. Nary a moment is wasted on the droning navel-gazing of lesser bands. Particularly, the driving anthem “Death Cult” which sounds like it would fit comfortably on QOTSA’s Songs For The Deaf, though there’s considerably more heft here. The title track pays its due to the Devil’s tritone in a marvelously woven framework of intertwining melodies befitting the album’s theme of descent into madness.
The quartet released its epic 3-song debut album Black Magic in early 2017 via Twin Earth Records, followed by the 2-track “Blood On Satan’s Claw” EP on Halloween the same year. Joining forces with RidingEasy Records in 2018, Alastor summoned the 7-track hateful gospel Slave To The Grave, which was packed with dynamic twists and turns, and funereal girth. It was met with considerable praise, setting the stage for the band’s greatest step onward (and upward... or downward, depending on your preferences.)

Excelsior! It’s the hail of yore that one should go ever onward and upward. And so, fittingly Onwards and Downwards is the occultist Swedish band Alastor’s clever call to arms... and also a reflection of our collective dark state of mind these days.
“If our last album Slave to the Grave were about death, this record is more about madness,” says guitarist Hampus Sandell. “You can look at the whole record as one person’s gradual slip into insanity. An ongoing nightmare without end. It also sums up the state of the world around us as this year has clearly shown.”
Alastor is heavy doom rock for the wicked and depraved. Drenched in heavy, distorted darkness and steeped in occult horror that will make your skin crawl and ears cry sweet tears of blood, the band is revitalized in 2021 with meticulously crafted songs and new drummer Jim Nordström bringing a hard-hitting and precise energy.
“It’s a more focused record but at the same time it’s more personal and naked. More raw emotion and pain,” Hampus says. The band recorded the album with the help of Joona Hassinen of Studio Underjord, who has helped with mixing since their ”Blood on Satan’s Claw” EP in 2017. Christoffer Karlsson of The Dahmers also assisted with overdubs and encouraged the band to demo the material early on, aiding in the album’s more deliberate and tighter feel.
From the first note of opener “The Killer In My Skull” the guitars are far thicker and out front than ever, and Nordström pummels the snare and kick like a young Dave Grohl. Bassist/vocalist Robin Arnryd’s chorus-drenched voice soars above it all like a one-man choir, at times harmonizing beautifully with shimmering Hammond organ notes. Nary a moment is wasted on the droning navel-gazing of lesser bands. Particularly, the driving anthem “Death Cult” which sounds like it would fit comfortably on QOTSA’s Songs For The Deaf, though there’s considerably more heft here. The title track pays its due to the Devil’s tritone in a marvelously woven framework of intertwining melodies befitting the album’s theme of descent into madness.
The quartet released its epic 3-song debut album Black Magic in early 2017 via Twin Earth Records, followed by the 2-track “Blood On Satan’s Claw” EP on Halloween the same year. Joining forces with RidingEasy Records in 2018, Alastor summoned the 7-track hateful gospel Slave To The Grave, which was packed with dynamic twists and turns, and funereal girth. It was met with considerable praise, setting the stage for the band’s greatest step onward (and upward... or downward, depending on your preferences.)

Every Dunbarrow album has a hauntingly classic sound of, in the band’s own
words, “an eerie rawness.” But their third album feels like you’ve discovered a
mysterious half-century old recording tucked away in a decrepit abandoned
mansion. Perhaps there’s a note attached, begging its courier to beware. Alas,
whoever possessed the tape apparently never survived. ...that is to say, it feels like there’s a solemn
story to this album, not just in the
lyrics, but in the sound itself. Much like
the eponymous debut of Black Sabbath,
the band uses subtle sound effects to
dramatically set the scene for its mostly
clean tones and masterful use of open
space for which the band has become
known. But unlike their first two albums,
this one does see the band branching
out just a bit into heavier, more distorted
guitars. The result is a much more
in-your-face sound, while retaining the
Haugesund, Norway quintet’s masterful
proto-metal sound.
The album opens with the sound of falling
rain as Lønning and Eirik Øvregård’s
guitars seep into the speakers like
funereal bells and haunted drones on
“Death That Never Dies.” Drummer Pål
Gunnar Dale slams down three snare
beats as bassist Sondre Berge Engedal
slinks in harmony over it all. Andersen’s
crisp vocals paint a bleak picture of
dark perdition until the band slips into
a swaggering piano-led coda reminiscent
of “Sabbra Cadabra.” The 7-minute
psychedelic folk masterpiece “Turn In
Your Grave” is the album centerpiece,
replete with mournfully shimmering
Mellotron and bleak folkloric lyrics. Its
hypnotically spinning guitar notes and
old European parlando-rubato singing
hearken to dark early Steeleye Span with
a sinister edge. “In My Heart” perfectly
showcases the band’s penchant for folk
based, yet head-banging riffs that break
with tradition that has stilted modern
heavy music.
“I think with this record, we have managed
to create our own unique sound
with its own Dunbarrow tag,” says the
band. With that sound comes the perfect
artwork: A cover illustration from the
early 1900’s by artist Harry Clarke from
his work for Edgar Allen Poe’s Tales of
Mystery and Imagination.

My Music is a stellar spiritual soul / jazz-funk gem, recorded by keyboardist-singer Samuel Jonathan Johnson in 1978. The epitome of a cult classic, it didn't do much upon its release but steadily found an audience over the decades that followed. It eventually worked its way into the culture, and latterly the wantlists, of wave after wave of soul aficionados.

This is music that shares the jazzy R&B DNA of contemporaries like Roy Ayers and is an intoxicating blend of mellow moments and more groove-heavy tracks. Spacey keys and lush production give it a luxurious, enveloping warmth.

My Music opens with the gorgeous title track: an indulgent slow jam opus. Introducing us to Johnson’s compelling musical vision, it features a rich mélange of production techniques. Dripping in strings, horns, backing singers, popping funk bass lines and swooshing synth waves, it’s an unusually structured cosmic two stepper that has an irrepressible groove. Accordingly, it’s been a favourite with the diggers and it was sampled by The Alchemist for Jadakiss’s “We Gonna Make It” (and it was also used on Ras Kass’s “Home Sweet Home”… but that’s a story for another time).

The up-tempo “Sweet Love” bubbles over with joy, its uplifting lyrics backed by infectious bass and jazzy Fender Rhodes lines. It follows a cover of “What the World Need’s Now Is Love”, taken at a funereal pace that transforms it into a heartfelt plea for love and understanding. Essential in these dark days.

After a full-minute-long opening of lush cinematic strings and horns, “Because I Love You” makes space for Samuel’s voice, accompanied by some keys and just a sprinkle of guitar. It builds back up and then mellows its way out to a jazz lounge finish (in all the right ways). The feel-good ebullience of the Stevie Wonder-esque “It Ain’t Easy” closes out the LP’s first side.

The second side bursts open with the heavy bounce and disco-funk basslines of “You”, a slightly off-beat string-laden dancer with insistent horns and a piano-assisted groove. Next up is “Just Us”, a legendary steppers track that could be heard oozing out of deep soul radios and funk sound systems back in the late 80s.

“Yesterdays and Tomorrow” is a moving original ballad that is followed by an exquisite high-stepping paean to mom in the form of “Thank You Mother Dear”. The thumping easy-glide of “Reason For The Reason” brings the album to a close.

Respectfully mastered by Simon Francis and cut by the master Pete Norman, this reissue of Samuel Jonathan Johnson’s sole LP sounds as sumptuous as that scarlet gown on the front cover. The sleeve artwork was lovingly restored by the Be With team. My Music is a luxurious and rare collection of songs that now has an opportunity to reach beyond its cult audience.

A few years ago we received an anonymous email with a link to three tracks and a simple
message: 'Hi, maybe you would be interested in this music.'

It's easy to be skeptical of yet another link from yet another artist in a world overcrowded with them, but listening is our job and so we do it. The songs were instantly striking: extraordinarily slow, somber, and spacious, each vaulted cathedral chord reverberating poetically into the distance, the melodies rolling out like fog across a cemetery.

Captivated, we requested more, receiving a single word in response: Yes.' Then, nothing. Eventually, three months later, we received another email with slightly more information: a name (Irma Orm), a location (Stockholm), and a bit of context (she worked alone, and progress on music was slow but steady ).

Fast-forward to mid-2016: we're informed the album is complete, and it is breathtaking. Hermetic gothic swan songs conjured from funereal piano, twilit ambience, minimalist percussion, and spellbinding vocals.

The mood is lulling and lush but lost in sorrow, stark grey structures looming in the night. Majestic open spaces between notes heighten the melancholic grandeur of Orm's arrangements, blurring the line between lament and lullaby. The songs less end than ebb away,succumbing to their own downcast beauty.

Skin and bone. A face featureless, white linen. The debut 12' of Funeral Future greets you with a cold hand and welcomes you into this dark night of the soul. Manic pulse, cutting hi-hats, and funereal leads. Techno has never sounded this elegiac.

Composer, musician and producer Nils Frahm steers the new edition of Late Night Tales, set for release on 11th September. A hypnotic voyage through modern and classical composition, experimental electronics, jazz, dub techno, soundtracks and soul; Frahm's Late Night Tales haunts and beguiles. It's not mixing, so much as gently layering, like a particularly fluffy goose-down duvet folding in on itself, the folds part of the attraction, the layers part of the overall picture being painted. Many of the tracks have been edited, effected and re-made. The subtly overdubbed parts on Rhythm & Sound's 'Mango Drive' adding to the haunting hypnosis, while choral interruptions aid Miles Davis' 'Générique' on its journey towards the light. Meanwhile, on Boards Of Canada's 'In A Beautiful Place Out In The Country', the tempo is somewhat sluggish, the organs slurred, as Frahm slows it down to a funereal 33rpm that nevertheless fits perfectly. The purring of his girlfriend's cat Cleo transitions playfully between Nina Simone's definitive version of 'Who Knows Where the Time Goes' and unearthing the gentle electronics of Dub Tractor. Eddy Arnold's 'You're The Only Star', a country tune that sounds like its transmitting from a mid-west diner wireless circa 1947, is straight from the soundtrack to an imaginary David Lynch movie, comforting and dismaying all at once. This crackly reality abounds, as on Finnish band Gentleman Losers' 'Honey Bunch', that adds an unsettling texture, with a sound that is modern but as nostalgic. Frahm's own tracks bookend the mix, opening with an inspired "rework" of the infamous silent John Cage piece '4:33' ("I sat at the piano in silence and worked from


there. I listened and took in the atmosphere and this is what came out of it") and ending with a solo piano version of 'Them', taken from his recently released score of the film 'Victoria'. The traditional Late Night Tales spoken word epilogue is voiced by actor Cillian Murphy (Inception, Batman, 28 Days Later), reading a short story by Edna Walsh (Hunger, Disco Pigs).