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Throughout their legendary, decade-long run, the Shadow Ring were an enigmatic force on the international musical sub-underground. Before their disbandment in 2002, this shambolic rock outfit, formed by a group of rowdy teenagers in southeast England, left behind a mighty run of eight LPs, a handful of 7"s, and a spate of raucous live shows and cryptic zine appearances on both sides of the Atlantic, all which have bolstered their enduring word-of-mouth mystique. Beginning this year with the first-ever vinyl pressing of the self-released pre-Shadow Ring tape The Cat & Bells Club (1992), Blank Forms Editions is conducting a systematic retrospective of the storied group, including a multi-year LP reissue effort and a forthcoming comprehensive CD box set and an over five hundred page book. Recorded and self-released by the group's own Dry Leaf Discs in 1993, City Lights is the debut record of the then duo Graham Lambkin and Darren Harris_an assured arrival statement teeming with stripling angst and ambition. Lifelong chums Lambkin and Harris were barely nineteen and living at home in the seaside town of Folkestone, Kent, with few overhead expenses. The two were freshly employed as a forklift operator at a hardware store and an aide at a home for children with disabilities, respectively, affording them the time and funds to commit to a proper full-length release. Frontman Lambkin describes the album as a "microscopic examination of leisure activities, this time centered around a nightclub," a conceit surging through its lyrics, song titles, cover art (depicting an audience of cats and mice at the Leas Club, a Folkestone fixture), and flip side (replete with fictional bandmates and pseudonymous liner notes). On a recently-acquired secondhand guitar, Lambkin plays repetitive, brooding licks that form the record's backbone, weaving in and out of sync with Harris's free-form percussion and the pair's sing-song poetry. Tracks range from unraveling nursery-rhyme ditties to extended jams awash with Casiotone and toy piano noodling. The duo's musical hobby-horses work themselves in: the influence of Mark E. Smith's breathless deadpan, the headless outer-edges of ESP-Disk's back catalog, the eerie atmospherics of Hirsche Nicht Aufs Sofa, and the deconstructed rock tunes of the Dunedin scene are all detectable, although there is a sui generis quality to the Shadow Ring's artless temerity. "I've got to see and taste those city lights," intones Lambkin on the album's title track_indeed, this is a record of naked drive and pent-up desperation, and a shimmering glimpse of what's to come. For Fans of The Fall, Royal Trux, The Dead C, Shirley Collins, '70s British progressive rock, Dean Blunt.

Bay Area technical death metal entity FABRICANT leverages any musical
tool for their riff and song fabrication
Speed, stillness, technicality, simplicity, consonance, dissonance... are all at play
for the express purpose of telling the stories of humanity's hubris, madness, and
frailty. FABRICANT glimpsed into this black vortex, extracted the raw materials of
inspiration, and refined the chaos into the ten fully actualized, death metal songs
on their debut album "Drudge to the Thicket".
This album was FABRICANT's obsession: a forbidden riddle to solve. From its
beginnings stretching as far back as their 2010 demo and to its ultimate end, this
album inhabited the deepest recesses of their minds as an omnipresent
consumer of thought. With the arrival of this debut, FABRICANT frees themselves
of this thicket. The battle was hard-won, but the next ones inexorably begin. From
new obsessions to delirium to the mundane, consciousness marches onwards,
screaming out at all of existence for answers, only to feebly fall on deaf ears.
Descend into the chaos with FABRICANT.
FABRICANT's debut album "Drudge To The Thicket" is unlike anything you'll hear
in the technical death metal genre all year, truly a unique and singular album of its
own kind. One that has been in the works for over a decade.
FABRICANT features members of celebrated technical death/ black metal outfit
Mefitis.
For fans of Necrophagist, early Pestilence, early Atheist, Defeated Sanity, and
Gorguts

Rory McPike is an artist who holds a special place in the core of Melbourne’s musical heart. His primary alias for the past 5 years, Rings Around Saturn, has been releasing sub loaded technotic synthesis with hints and glimpses of a 140 bpm’d dubstep track on the horizon — The horizon is here — Welcome.

Goose Step pays homage to the UKs 06-07 dubstep powerhouses with undeniable sound system power itself. Minimalistic on first listen, rude tune on the fourth. Goose Step is a piece we have been looking forward to pressing for a long time here on Modern Hypnosis. All this talk about dubstep, we almost forgot about the A side!!?!!

THX Assassin has more character than Mary and Pippin in LOTR. A hot piece of dub garage combining ultra pleasing sonics with clean percussion, articulated wubs and a halfway vibe check.

Both tracks mastered and cut by Beau Thomas @ Ten Eight Seven Mastering. 180g black 12” vinyl.

* In 1993, Andy C & Ant Miles set out about creating a fourth release for the newly established Ram Records, now just a year old. With Hardcore still prominent in the clubs around the world, The Touch features rollercoaster bass swoops against energetic breaks flowing around the main sung vocal "c'mon and touch me".

An early sign of the precision arrangements that became synonymous of Ram's early sound that followed over for many years. Whilst going through the remaining samples in the sampler that had not been used on the A side, the pair suddenly went on a tangent with one of the drum breaks.

Experimenting with the new time stretch function in the Akai sampler, they soon had a shuffle groove layered and moving. With Ant Miles' sculpted and edited arpeggio bell line sample, a new overall sound and vibe was beginning to emerge out of their studio Atari ST computer.

Utilising an original organic analogue string pad, the haunting sinister vibe became complete. With the vocal from the BBC QED documentary 'Glimpses of Death' - "I felt, like I was in a long dark tunnel" all that remained was one of the most memorable pounding bass lines to sit underneath it all.

The result was an instant impact on the scene, heralded as one of the first anthems of the Jungle genre. Multi award winning and the track that cemented Andy & Ant and their label Ram Records within the scene.

Cover versions of international songs have long thrived in South Africa’s music industry. Often unable to license the original tracks (until the early 90s the result of an international boycott of the country) labels instead hired producers and session artists to re-record them for the local market. Early house music in SA was no different.

When Ron ‘Robot’ Friedman, former bass player for local rockers Rabbitt, was winding down his label On Records in the early 90s, he reached out for new inspiration as the popularity of ‘bubblegum’ disco waned. For one of the label’s final releases he hired young DJ/producer Quentin Foster, obsessed with the new soulful house sound coming out of the US, to take the reins on a studio project dubbed Citi Express.

On Robot’s insistence it included a cover of Stevie Wonder’s ‘Living for the City’ (from 1973’s Innervisions) as the title track. Foster set to work in his home studio, dubbed Tone Def, selecting and re-working other US and UK tracks — ‘It’s Too Late’ (originally released in 1989 by Kelli Sae), ‘Love is the Message’ (influenced by the 70s soul anthem and credited to Gamble & Huff but bearing a closer resemblance to Better Days’ 1990 release written by Steve Proctor), ‘People of The World’ (recorded by Sorell Johnson in the UK in 1990) and ‘Victim of Your Love’ (released in 1990 by Gary Vonqwest as ‘Victim of Love’) — adding some signature South African touches in the process that foreshadow the imminent rise of kwaito. One original composition was added for good measure, ‘Open Invitation’.

The result offers a glimpse into those early days of house, a uniquely South African take on a global sound that still resonates today — reissued for the first time on Afrosynth Records.

Big Daddy Mugglestone is back, with his first full-length solo release in over 2 decades! Rumi Sounds is proud to present this collection of songs about Life, Love, and God that really embody the idea of Americana Gothic.

The songs are dark but not bleak, giving a glimpse of forgiveness...even the 12-minute long murder ballad for which the album is named is still a love song.


With a mixed band of Denver and Berlin-based friends, Mugglestone steps out of the shadowy depths to create a record you and yr auntie could listen to while doing the dishes or lounging on the sofa on a rainy day.

The psyche-melodic guitar swirls of Oska Wald and the alluring back-up vocals of MTN GRL elevate his wry croon, not quite country but not quite contrary. Something like if Lee Hazlewood and John Prine both wanted to buy the same vintage lamp...

Thanks to dedicated fan Tom Huissen who took his one channel reel-to-reel tape recorder into various London clubs in 1967, these historical performances were captured for all time. Unheard for almost fifty years, John recently obtained these tapes and began restoring them with the technical assistance of Eric Corne of Forty Below Records. Corne adds, "While the source recording was very rough and the final result is certainly not hi- fidelity, it does succeed in allowing us to hear how spectacular these performances are." It's truly an exciting glimpse into music history

Influences enter into the frame ranging from '90s trance, to early M83, to Yoko Kanno anime soundtracks. With its M1 piano stabs, supersaws, and glimpses of Amen breaks, the album charts a luminescent space between 5 a.m. warehouse raves and the urban freeways of its cover image-- romantic, nocturnal, and reckless in its velocity and emotional abandon.

Expanding on the shoegaze-shaded emo that made Parannoul's To See the Next Part of the Dream so beloved by lo-fi and indie rock fans alike, After the Magic sees the anonymous auteur striving to write a follow-up as worthy of acclaim as the last.

Across the album's ten songs, Parannoul plunges yet deeper into his diverse pool of influences, coming back to the surface with a record that captures and extends the magic of its predecessor. Unexpected flashes of orchestral ambient and glitched-out electronica meld seamlessly with Parannoul's signature passages of noisy, distortion-laden shoegaze, offering a real time glimpse into the maturation
of one of indie rock's most exciting artists.

In the artist's own words, "This album is not what you expected, but what I always wanted."

Nous'klaer Audio presents Martinou - Chiral, the follow full-length up to his 2021 album Rift. This time nine tracks across two vinyls. An album flowing 'in a way' like Rift, but it's different: More outspoken, heavier sound design and it peaks on a blissful note. ''Open up the blinds and take me there. We'll break the surface tension. We'll dive in. I'm locked in your devotion. You give an inclination to our demise. It will be our exit. To bliss, we'll be its guardian. Once there was love. Clear as glassy water. No ripples, no waves. I followed while you led. Our arrival was warm. Hot, even. Stunning to a startling degree. Hands intwined, frolicking towards the blue. Hours passed, and white heat cede to an orange hue. We cooled down. Red. We rallied. Black. It began. Into the deep darkness we ran. White sand, it has a tendency to get everywhere. Salt water will only dehydrate you more. Shriveled and dry. Scratchy and coarse. More. And then we were lost. Fingers once locked grew distant. Morning, dear. Where have you gone? We looked. A glimpse from afar. Red. We rallied. Shall we share a bottle of wine? Black, lost again. Afternoon, friend. Where were you? Red. Alone. Black. We rallied. Shall we try somewhere new? Sand and salt. Evening, sir. Reservation for one? Reservations a plenty, I say. Evening, miss. Dining alone? Aren't we all? Dining, miss, not dying. Oh, yes, alone. Black. Sand and salt. I found you. No. No. Wait, do I know you? You feel like a dream. Don't touch me. Move along, sir. Who are you? Leave. Who are you? Where did you go? Keep moving. I am, I will. Time to move on. I'm moving! Leave. Don't touch me. Leave. Why are you? Exit. Purple. Orange. Yellow. White. Blue. Morning, dear. Shall we have breakfast? I think I'll sleep some more. But it's our last day. I know. See you downstairs when you're ready. OK. I open up the blinds. A bird breaks the surface tension. Locked in. To Devotion? No. Demise. An inclination. Reverie. Take me there. Where? Exit (To Bliss) '' Text by Gregory Markus

GIL’s second release provides moments of lightness and euphoria,
offering a glimpse of the transcendental experiences that can be found in nature. Anam Cara, which means “soul friend” in Gaelic, sets the tone for the journey that listeners are about to embark on. Each track is a sonic tribute to the power and beauty of friendship, evoking the many moods and emotions that are part of this intricate relationship. The modular sounds add a sense of intricacy and complexity to the record, while the metallic textures add a raw and industrial edge that complements the softer, fluid movements of the aquatic elements. The blend of downtempo and deep techno creates a sonic landscape that is both contemplative and hypnotic, inviting listeners to reflect on the many nuances of friendship. From the ethereal modular sounds of “Henko (Ethereal Reshape)” to the shimmering metallic textures of “Henko (Tapasya Mix)” each track is a unique sonic journey that captures the essence of this powerful relationship. Written, produced and engineered by Gilmer Galibard Vinyl Mastered by Anne Taegert at D&M Artwork by Gilmer Galibard

Audiophile reviews rave about saxophone master John Coltrane's immortal Impulse! records, A Love Supreme (1964) and Ballads (1963). In fact, jazz critics have lauded A Love Supreme as Coltrane's most important recording. The rave reviews which appeared in the magazines Downbeat, Jazz Hot, Jazz Podium and Swing-journal reflected this: critics all over the world, in America, Europe and Japan recognized that Coltrane's deep religious belief had influenced both his approach to life and his music-making.

You're about to experience A Love Supreme at its peak of vinyl perfection — in UHQR format on Clarity Vinyl, with the added bonus of a double 45 RPM cut by Ryan K. Smith at Sterling Sound. Ryan's cut has his characteristic clarity and transparency all set against Quality Record Pressing's usual noiseless backgrounds on 200-gram flawless records. Each UHQR will be packaged in a deluxe box and will include a booklet detailing the entire process of making a UHQR along with a hand-signed certificate of inspection. This will be a truly deluxe, collectible product.

For this 45 RPM 2LP edition you'll also receive a 12" x 12" 12-page booklet featuring liner notes by Ashley Kahn and images from the Coltrane home.

The original master tape is available but it's not in the best shape. This LP was cut from a flat tape copy made by Rudy Van Gelder and used for cutting in the UK in April of 1965. Of course, the original recording was in December '64, so only a handful of months later. This tape was discovered at Abbey Road and had been untouched between 1965 and 2002. So while the original tape is available and while we would always opt for the original whenever we can, in this case this copy was the better choice as the tape has incurred less overall wear and sounds much better than the original.

A Love Supreme was Coltrane's pinnacle studio outing that at once compiled all of his innovations from his past, spoke of his current deep spirituality, and also gave a glimpse into the next two and a half years (sadly, those would be his last). Recorded at the end of 1964, Trane's classic quartet of Elvin Jones, McCoy Tyner, and Jimmy Garrison stepped in and created one of the most thought-provoking albums of their relationship.

The album not only enabled Coltrane to express himself with great intensity but also lent him the necessary inner peace to conceive a work of almost 40 minutes in length and to lead his quartet along the same path as himself.

'Farewell to Faraway Friends' finds Lauvdal at her Wurlitzer, captured by two mics in the room, with no additional overdubs or edits. Her set of hushed, jazzy flourishes and pregnant pauses is so well realised that it’s hard to believe they were improvised, while the “kitchen feel” of the room recording (as Marhaug describes it) enhances a sense of brittle intimacy. Much in the same way that Dominique Lawalrée imbued his ostensibly naive music with glimpses into a multifaceted inner life, Lauvdal explores an ocean of feeling through the most humble components, transporting us through some alchemical act of emotional teleportation.

Lauvdal avoids meandering flights of fancy, instead exposing a filigree level of detail and beauty through the cracks of her spartan recordings. There are no arbitrary found sounds, no sound design or overdubs, just Lauvdal and her Wurlitzer, occasionally singing at a barely perceptible volume in the background. If there's melancholy, it's not self absorbed or effacing, but trapped behind sunny rays and poetic, romantic phrases.

One of those effortlessly impactful records we’ve not been able to stop listening to for a while now, ‘Farewell to Faraway Friends’ is apparently the first in an ongoing series. Here’s hoping.

Black Truffle is pleased to welcome free jazz legend Joe McPhee back to the fold with Oblique Strategies, a wild trio recorded in Antwerp in 2018 in the company of Mette Rasmussen’s fire-breathing alto saxophone and Dennis Tyfus’s post-Fluxus antics on tape, voice, and percussion. Rasmussen and Tyfus have previously recorded together as Bazuinschal, and some similar strategies are on display here: mysterious metallic scrapes, extended tones in which voice and sax become indistinguishable, comic explosions of varispeed tape. With McPhee on board, however, proceedings are more sumptuous, with the two horns moving fluidly from expeditions into the extremes of their instruments’ registers to pointillistic note-splatter and Ayler-esque folk melodies; we even get to bask in some of the slow-motion free blues that McPhee has now been playing for half a century. McPhee is heard primarily on tenor, Rasmussen mainly on alto, but with Rasmussen doubling on sundry objects, and the whole trio contributing vocals, certainty about who is doing what becomes nigh impossible.

The recording and production add to this hazy unclarity. Where much contemporary improvised music aims at dryly clinical hi-fi, the lively reverberant space of Oblique Strategies calls to mind the less-than-pristine sonics of classic free jazz artefacts like John Tchicai’s Afrodisiaca or McPhee’s own Underground Railroad. A further dimension of oblique unpredictability is added by subtle changes in the sense of space: at times merely a reverb tail glimpsed between phrases, at other points the whole mix seems to be momentarily swallowed up in slap-back, blurring the lines between acoustic instruments and the decayed fidelity of Tyfus’ tape playback. Spread across four pieces ranging from four to nineteen minutes in length, Oblique Strategies moves with anarchic swagger from explosions of clattering cymbals and bellowing horns to near-silent episodes of mysterious rumble and clunk. ‘Death or Dinner?’ opens the record with a lovely duet of climbing melodic patterns shared between the two saxophones, played with a buzzing oboe-like tone. A long, wavering note sung by Tyfus cues the first of countless changes of direction, eventually leading to a crescendo of watery splutters and duelling saxes. At points Tyfus’ keening resemble the signature moves of his friend and collaborator, Ghédelia Tazartès; at others, his tape-sped huffs and puffs possess a rawness reminiscent of Henri Chopin or Gil Wolman. The dialogue between wailing saxophones and vocal cries, punctuated by percussive thuds and crashes, can at times feel less like a musical performance and more like the calls of some mysterious forest creatures, possessing a primordial energy that might remind some listeners of the outdoor antics of Brötzmann and Bennink’s Schwarzwaldfahrt.

Oblique Strategies can also be delicate at times, as on the beautiful third piece, ‘Destilled Edible’, dominated by a slow, microtonal melody played with a breathy tone resembling a shakuhachi. The closing side-long ‘Light My Fire’ ranges across classic improv call and response, skittering trumpet blurts, inept cymbal clatter, mock-operatic vocals, and crude tape manoeuvres. Momentarily pausing at the ten-minute mark for an interlude of ghostly room sound and crackling texture, its closing moments unfurl a glorious dual saxophone finale, the almost epic tone subtly undermined by Tyfus quietly tapping out swing rhythms. Arriving in a striking sleeve adorned with Tyfus’ drawings, Oblique Strategies is an invigoratingly free-spirited blast of improvisation.
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Santilli returns to Mad Habitat after a European sojourn on Growing Bin! The Eora-based multi-instrumentalist is one half of Angophora, but his solo work exists in the lineage of electro-acoustic visionaries like Steve Tibbetts. With each subsequent release, Santilli strikes the balance between mining his well-defined personal aesthetic and expanding his vision.

The instrumental palette of this record is centered around guitar and synthesizer, bolstered by an incredible array of idiophones and membranophones. There is no shortage of spellbinding moments, like the glacial synths that pan across “Mirrors”, the cascading beauty of “Colours” or the woodland symphony of “Hollow” - the latter even recalls the environmentally-focused work of Waak Waak Djungi’s Peter Mumme.

There’s a common thread across this album in the way it evokes the expanse of nature that Santilli spends much of his time in. All 9 tracks feel like a glimpse into an exquisitely realized scene and across all of them, Santilli's music is suffused with an unhurried sense of ease. The music here feels immersive and panoramic as a result, and we’re grateful to share a glimpse into the worlds Santilli captures.

Repress!

Named after the theoretical breakdown of the basic elements of conscious experience, Alfa Mist's latest album 'Structuralism' is based around a conversation between Mist and his sister, discussing themes of debate culture and personal growth and is an intricate and profound glimpse into the East London artist's battles with self and the societal pressures that inform our own conscious experience.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

Chain Of Flowers return with their lofty and long-simmering sophomore full-length, rich with reckonings, reverb, and redemption: Never Ending Space. Despite some of the songs dating back a few years, the record first began materialising in earnest during the pandemic, by which point most of the band had relocated from Cardiff to London.

Reunited and rejuvenated, they picked up where they left off, booking two multi-day sessions at Hackney hub Total Refreshment Centre with producer Jonah Falco. In this time they successfully channelled their kinetic chemistry into 10 full-blooded anthems of torn dreams, poetic delirium, and “hope stretched too far.” Musically, Never Ending Space skews notably more maximal than the group’s previous work, fleshed out with trumpets, saxophone, synth, percussion boxes, and spoken word. (Smith jokingly calls them The Chain Of Flowers Orchestra).

Yet the songs still swing and soar with a charged heart, ripe with hooks, drama and ragged melody. Opener “Fire (In The Heart Of Hearts)” stirs to life on a tide of wiry guitar and defiant horns, facing down the embers of love that still glow in the wake of pain: “Peace came tumbling like a shower of bricks / The mind twists slowly till everything fits.”

A tense energy ripples throughout – from the nocturnal rush of “Serving Purpose” and “Amphetamine Luck” to the bruised battle cries of “Torcalon” and “Old Human Material.” Outliers like “Praying Hands, Turtle Doves” hint at proggy possible futures, while instrumental vignette “Anomia” offers an intriguing glimpse at a lesser heard facet of the band: swaying, shadowy, subdued. The album’s title track is also its closing cut, a stomping, sparkling ode to “the wrong side of the night, where time goes to die.” Smith describes the scene: “Everyone’s talking, screaming, trauma bonding, but no one’s listening. Broken dialogue. Shouting over each other. You want to switch off, but everyone’s too fucked.” The guitars spiral and slide towards the oblivion of dawn, the chance to crash and do it all again.

A complex and sometimes belligerent character in real life, on record,
John Martyn was the epitome of the folk-dreamer, embodying the spirit
of the bourgeoning London acoustic scene of the late 60s
Well- known and respected for his 70s albums Solid Air and One World, this is
where it began.The second and final John and Beverley album, The Road To Ruin
came out in late 1970; it is a mature, fully realised work, and a glimpse of what
would have happened had Island not encouraged John to go back to being a solo
artist. Opener Primrose Hill was later sampled by Fat Boy Slim, and the John-led
Parcels offers a template for what would become his signature style as the
decade progressed. It is one of those rare albums that creates its own
atmosphere, late night intensity, middle age soul.
This re-issue faithfully replicates the original 1970 Island Records UK release and
is pressed onto high quality 180g vinyl.

The year is 1989. Techno’s second generation has begun to permeate the globe leading a young Carl Craig to a tiny village in the countryside of Belgium. It is here, undistracted and determined to break out, that Craig encounters one of the country’s only drum machines, an Alesis controlled midi-808. In a single session he composes and mixes a handful of records that are still to this day regarded as some of his most raw and explosive contributions to the fabric of electronic music history.

Carl revisits this fateful chapter through the lens of a famed cut from his Psyche alias ‘From Beyond’, with a ‘C2 2023 Mix’ and remixes from Seth Troxler, Ataxia and Admn, out July 14 on Planet E Communications.

The Psyche alias, known for early Transmat releases like ‘Crackdown’ and ‘Elements’, embodied a stripped back, less sample based yin attitude to the yang of Carl’s more aggressive 69 and sample-forward BFC and Paperclip People identities. ‘From Beyond’, first released in 1990 via the ‘Crackdown’ 12” on Transmat, offers an eerie glimpse into the simplistic production that came through Carl’s mastery of the 808 and the sonic value of restricting himself to this movement defining tool.

This new ‘From Beyond’ package sees Carl lift and bend the original in his ‘C2 2023 Mix’ alongside a package of remixes from artists near to the hearts of Detroit and the Planet E fold. Seth Troxler brings a subdued acid tinge to the package, while label regular Ataxia pays homage to the source material with a renewed percussive energy, followed by a soulful rework by Admn.

Whether it be through the 30 year repertoire of his seminal Planet E, his Party / After-Party sound and light installation now on display at Los Angeles’ MOCA, or his continuous work as a champion of Black-led creativity, the Carl Craig mission remains the same: to always rep Detroit and be the realest mutha f***a alive.