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Dialog strips back the vocal cuts from their first two DOT releases to their essential rhythmic foundations, offering a fresh perspective on their dubwise electronics. Highlighting the production architecture and opening up new spaces for the music to unfold

L. Jacobs releases his second album, Behind the Great Curve, on the Belgian label Blickwinkel. Featuring contributions from Milan W., Sarah Yu Zeebroek, and Joachim Badenhorst, the follow-up to the surprising debut Enthusiasm was initially composed and recorded in Jacobs’ small attic room and later refined at Milan W.’s Van den Nest Studio, where W. also handled production and mixing.

A line or outline which gradually deviates from being straight for some or all of its length.

Behind the Great Curve explores and celebrates the beauty and universality of the abstract notion above and what we commonly refer to as the curve. Its presence, allegedly, is everywhere. It is a form that appears visually, mathematically, and symbolically — a line that suggests motion, time, expectation, and impermanence.

This album aims to listen to all of this — the poetry, the irony, and the faint background hum of modern life — with quiet curiosity. Within a gently meandering, synthesized landscape, a collection of dreamlike compositions unfolds: delicate melodies, sparse percussion, warm buzzing synths, and fragments of field recordings coexist in carefully measured imperfection. Colorful yet minimal in aesthetic, the album does not seek to explain the curve, but to follow it.

With Variations for Light Waves, Swedish composer Linnéa Talp deepens the focus and intensity that shaped her 2022 debut Arch of Motion. Once again, the breath and hum of the pipe organ form the album’s core, but here she pushes further into deep listening and sonic nuance. Across seven pieces, she lingers on the instrument’s most resonant points, allowing its character to reveal itself slowly and patiently.
Talp’s path to this work has unfolded with similar steadiness. After first emerging with her project Deerest, she shifted toward improvisation and minimal composition, guided by an increasing sensitivity to sound and perception. Careful listening is now central to her practice, informing both her methods and her musical language.
The album was recorded over four years on pipe organs across Sweden, including a small funeral-chapel instrument in Lötsjökapellet—an environment Talp describes as an exceptional space for listening. Several pieces feature Christer Bothén (contrabass clarinet) and Mats Äleklint (trombone), whose playing blends seamlessly into her aerated organ tones. The improvisation “Air On Both Sides,” recorded in 2022 with Bothén, became the project’s starting point, an immersive bath in glowing harmonics. At times she interweaves Buchla recordings, setting electronic breath against acoustic resonance.
Talp’s fascination with quietness and delicacy is balanced by an interest in sonic brittleness. The closing title track gradually dismantles a downward chord progression, drifting into gentle collapse, while the brief opener pushes the organ’s pipes into gasping strain. These moments create a music open to chance, instability, and transformation.
Threads running through the album include an interest in chords, subtle improvisation, light, and memories of coastal landscapes. Talp also connects the work to the “thick white fog” surrounding her daughter’s birth. The result is music that envelopes like mist yet continually reveals new shapes—a world o

‘Bad Wiring’ by Jeffrey Lewis & The Voltage, originally released in 2019 and long ago sold out, is re-released in UK/Europe on Blang Records. Recorded in Nashville by Roger Moutenot (Lou Reed, Yo La Tengo, Sleater-Kinny) the album blends raw lo-fi garage-punk with acoustic interludes. His trademark literate lyrics, moving between the poignant and the hilarious, shift from personal anxieties to existential dread (often in the same song eg, ‘My Girlfriend Doesn't Worry'), record stores ('LPs') and under-appreciated artists ('Exactly What Nobody Wanted'). The album was greeted with widespread acclaim in 2019 with many reviewers declaring it his best yet. Jeffrey Lewis & The Voltage play End Of The Road in September with a UK/Europe tour planned to follow.
Press For Bad Wiring In 2019:
" The “and about our relationship” refrain of ‘My Girlfriend Doesn’t Worry’ will have you replaying the album instantly." grade A- Robert Christgau, Consumer Guide (top albums of the year 2019).
" terrific wordplay." ******* Rob Hughes, Uncut
"Thick with the evergreen anti-folkie's charm." **** Mojo
"Electrifying, again." **** Q Magazine.
"one of the most consistently enjoyable records Lewis has made in his 18-year career." ********- HotPress
"possibly his best studio album yet." **** The Skinny.
"Jeff Lewis sits comfortably with Lou Reed and Leonard Cohen as an exemplary songwriter. Reed always strived for street cool and Cohen’s words were imbued with mysticism and his love of women. Lewis has the courage to open up his heart and lay out all the horrible neurosis, paranoia, and despair that we all fall prey to. Reed the cool, Cohen the mystic and Lewis the honest. A better triumvirate you couldn’t hope for.” Louder Than War.
"There’s a strong suggestion that this is the best album his written to date and after listening to just a handful of songs you’d be hard-pushed to disagree – you’ll also be left wondering why in the hell Lewis is not better known than he is, this album is filled with unforgettable songs that set his songwriting apart from anything else you’re likely to hear today." Folk Radio UK.

Some years ago, Kjell Bjørgeengen and Keith Rowe attempted to convert video signals into sound by setting up Rowe’s pickups next to an old CRT monitor, turning its magnetic field into a sound generator. Rowe further developed the system with David Jones at Alfred University, slimming down the setup using a copper coil, a circuit board, a video input, and a telephone pickup. Jones named it the »Flood Coil«, and it’s that instrument you can see on the album’s front cover and that lies at the core of these recordings, made without any physical live input from the artists themselves. In essence, it’s generative music in its purest form.

Bjørgeengen’s video feed is generated by oscillators, then routed into Marhaug’s pedals and then back into the Flood Coil, so any visual shifts alter the sound, and any modification to the sound changes the video. The duo have played this setup live many times, but for this studio version they left the system to do its thing without any intervention for two minutes at a time before moving onto the next idea. They recorded hours and hours using this process and then selected 18 highlights for this album, extracting harsh noise, power electronics, lulling feedback drone, and peculiar rhythmic snippets to show the scope of their technique.

A wall of growling, hi-octane Pulse Demon-style noise opens the set, gradually exposing us to more asymmetric textures, shifting through unstable repetitions that transform Merzbow’s metal-inspired screams into »Aaltopiiri«-era rhythmic noise. It’s remarkable, actually, how much Marhaug and Bjørgeengen can squeeze from the system, chancing on shivering, lower-case chugs and pops, galloping drums, soundsystem subs, and grinding blast beats that sound like Napalm Death’s »Scum« piped through a broken amp stack. It ain’t pretty, but noise/industrial freaks will revel in the fierce delights inside.

UILTY RAZORS, BONA FIDE PUNKS.



Writings on the topic that go off in all directions, mind-numbing lectures given by academics, and testimonies, most of them heavily doctored, from those who “lived through that era”: so many people today fantasize about the early days of punk in our country… This blessed moment when no one had yet thought of flaunting a ridiculous green mohawk, taking Sid Vicious as a hero, or – even worse – making the so-called alternative scene both festive and boorish. There was no such thing in 1976 or 1977, when it wasn’t easy to get hold of the first 45s by the Pistols or the Clash. Few people were aware of what was happening on the fringes of the fringes at the time. Malcolm McLaren was virtually unknown, and having short hair made you seem strange. Who knew then that rock music, which had taken a very bad turn since the early 1970s, would once again become an essential element of liberation? That, thanks to short and fast songs, it would once again rediscover that primitive, social side that was so hated by older generations? Who knew that, besides a few loners who read the music press (it was even better if they read it in English) and frequented the right record stores? Many of these formed bands, because it was impossible to do otherwise. We quickly went from listening to the Velvet Underground to trying to play the Stooges’ intros. It’s a somewhat collective story, even though there weren’t many people to start it.
The Guilty Razors were among those who took part in this initial upheaval in Paris. They were far from being the worst. They had something special and even released a single that was well above the national average. They also had enough songs to fill an album, the one you’re holding. In everyone’s opinion, they were definitely not among the punk impostors that followed in their wake. They were, at least, genuine and credible.

Guilty Razors, Parisian punk band (1975-1978). To understand something about their somewhat linear but very energetic sound, we might need to talk about the context in which it was born and, more broadly, recall the boredom (a theme that would become capital in punk songs) coupled with the desire to blow everything off, which were the basis for the formation of bands playing a rejuvenated rock music ; about the passion for a few records by the Kinks or the early Who, by the Stooges, by the Velvet mostly, which set you apart from the crowd.
And of course, we should remember this new wave, which was promoted by a few articles in the specialized press and some cutting-edge record stores, coming from New York or London, whose small but powerful influence could be felt in Paris and in a handful of isolated places in the provinces, lulled to sleep by so many appalling things, from Tangerine Dream to President Giscard d’Estaing...
In 1975-76, French music was, as almost always, in a sorry state ; it was still dominated by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. Local rock music was also rather bleak, apart from Bijou and Little Bob who tried to revive this small scene with poorly sound-engineered gigs played to almost no one.
In the working class suburbs at the time, it was mainly hard rock music played to 11 that helped people forget about their gruelling shifts at the factory. Here and there, on the outskirts of major cities, you still could find a few rockers with sideburns wearing black armbands since the death of Gene Vincent, but it wasn’t a proper mass movement, just a source of real danger to anyone they came across who wasn't like them. In August 1976, a festival unlike any other took place in Mont-de-Marsan – the First European Punk Festival as the poster said – with almost as many people on stage as in the audience. Yet, on that day, a quasi historical event happened, when, under the blazing afternoon sun, a band of unknowns called The Damned made an unprecedented noise in the arena, reminiscent of the chaotic Stooges in their early adolescence. They were the first genuine punk band to perform in our country: from then on, anything was possible, almost anything seemed permissible.

It makes sense that the four+1 members of Guilty Razors, who initially amplified acoustic guitars with crappy tape recorder microphones, would adopt punk music (pronounced paink in French) naturally and instinctively, since it combines liberating noise with speed of execution and – crucially – a very healthy sense of rebellion (the protesters of May 1968 proclaimed, and it was even a slogan, that they weren’t against old people, but against what had made them grow old. In the mid-1970s, it seemed normal and obvious that old people should now ALSO be targeted!!!).
At the time, the desire to fight back, and break down authority and apathy, was either red or black, often taking the form of leafleting, tumultuous general assemblies in the schoolyard, and massive or shabby demonstrations, most of the time overflowing with an exciting vitality that sometimes turned into fights with the riot police. Indeed, soon after the end of the Vietnam War and following Pinochet’s coup in Chile, all over France, Trotskyist and anarcho-libertarian fervour was firmly entrenched among parts of the educated youth population, who were equally rebellious and troublemakers whenever they had the chance. It should also be noted that when the single "Anarchy in the UK" was first heard, even though not many of us had access to it, both the title and its explosive sound immediately resonated with some of those troublemakers crying out for ANARCHY!!! Meanwhile, the left-wing majority still equated punks with reckless young neo-Nazis. Of course, the widely circulated photos in the mainstream press of Siouxsie Sioux with her swastikas didn’t necessarily help to win over the theorists of the Great Revolution. It took Joe Strummer to introduce The Clash as an anti-racist, anti-fascist and anti-ignorance band for the rejection of old-school revolutionaries to fade a little.

The Lycée Jean-Baptiste Say at Porte d’Auteuil, despite being located in the very posh and very exclusive 16th arrondissement of Paris, didn’t escape these "committed" upheavals, which doubled as the perfect outlet for the less timid members of this generation.
“Back then, politics were fun,” says Tristam Nada, who studied there and went on to become Guilty Razors’ frontman. “Jean-Baptiste was the leftist high-school in the neighbourhood. When the far right guys from the GUD came down there, the Communist League guys from elsewhere helped us fight them off.”
Anything that could challenge authority was fair game and of course, strikes for just about any reason would lead to increasingly frequent truancy (with a definitive farewell to education that would soon follow). Tristam Nada spent his 10th and 11th unfinished grades with José Perez, who had come from Spain, where his father, a janitor, had been sentenced to death by Franco. “José steered my tastes towards solid acts such as The Who. Like most teenagers, I had previously absorbed just about everything that came my way, from Yes to Led Zeppelin to Genesis. I was exploring… And then one day, he told me that he and his brother Carlos wanted to start a rock band.” The Perez brothers already played guitar. “Of course, they were Spanish!”, jokes their singer. “Then, somewhat reluctantly, José took up the bass and we were soon joined by Jano – who called himself Jano Homicid – who took up the rhythm guitar.” Several drummers would later join this core of not easily intimidated young guys who didn’t let adversity get the better of them.

The first rehearsals of the newly named Guilty Razors took place in the bedroom of a Perez aunt. There, the three rookies tried to cover a few standards, songs that often were an integral part of their lives. During a first, short gig, in front of a bewildered audience of tough old-school rockers, they launched into a clunky version of the Velvet Underground's “Heroin”. Challenge or recklessness? A bit of both, probably… And then, step by step, their limited repertoire expanded as they decided to write their own songs, sung in a not always very accurate or academic English, but who cared about proper grammar or the right vocabulary, since what truly mattered was to make the words sound as good as possible while playing very, very fast music? And spitting out those words in a language that left no doubt as to what it conveyed mattered as well.
Trying their hand a the kind of rock music disliked by most of the neighbourhood, making noise, being fiercely provocative: they still belonged to a tiny clique who, at this very moment, had chosen to impose this difference. And there were very few places in France or elsewhere, where one could witness the first stirrings of something that wasn’t a trend yet, let alone a movement.

In the provinces, in late 1976 or early 1977, there couldn’t be more than thirty record stores that were a bit more discerning than average, where you could hear this new kind of short-haired rock music called “punk”. The old clientele, who previously had no problem coming in to buy the latest McCartney or Aerosmith LP, now felt a little less comfortable there…
In Paris, these enlightened places were quite rare and often located nex to what would become the Forum des Halles, a big shopping mall. Between three aging sex workers, a couple of second-hand clothes shops, sellers of hippie paraphernalia and small fashion designers, the good word was loudly spread in two pioneering places – propagators of what was still only a new underground movement. Historically, the first one was the Open Market, a kind of poorly, but tastefully stocked cave. Speakers blasted out the sound of sixties garage bands from the Nuggets compilation (a crucial reference for José Perez) or the badly dressed English kids of Eddie and the Hot Rods. This black-painted den was opened a few years earlier by Marc Zermati, a character who wasn’t always in a sunny disposition, but always quite radical in his (good) choices and his opinions. He founded the independent label Skydog and was one of the promoters of the Mont-de-Marsan punk festivals. Not far from there was Harry Cover, another store more in tune with the new New York scene, which was amply covered in the house fanzine, Rock News (even though it was in it that the photos of the Sex Pistols were first published in France).
It was a favorite hang-out of the Perez brothers and Tristam Nada, as the latter explained. “It’s at Harry Cover’s that we first heard the Pistols and Clash’s 45s, and after that, we decided to start writing our first songs. If they could do it, so could we!”
The sonic shocks that were “Anarchy in the UK”, “White Riot” or the Buzzcocks’s EP, “Spiral Scratch” – which Guilty Razors' sound is reminiscent of – were soon to be amplified by an unparalleled visual shock. In April 1977, right after the release of their first LP, The Clash performed at the Palais des Glaces in Paris, during a punk night organised by Marc Zermati. For many who were there, it was the gig of a lifetime…
Of course, Guilty Razors and Tristam were in the audience: “That concert was fabulous… We Parisian punks were almost all dressed in black and white, with white shirts, skinny leather ties, bikers jackets or light jackets, etc. The Clash, on the other hand, wore colourful clothes. Well, the next day, at the Gibus, you’d spot everyone who had been at this concert, but they weren’t wearing anything black, they were all wearing colours.”

It makes sense to mention the Gibus club, as Guilty Razors often played there (sometimes in front of a hostile audience). It was also the only place in Paris that regularly scheduled new Parisian or Anglo-Saxon acts, such as Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits, and Johnny Thunders who would become a kind of messed-up mascot for the venue. A little later, in 1978, the Rose Bonbon – formerly the Nashville – also attracted nightly owls in search of electric thrills… In 1977, the iconic but not necessarily excellent Asphalt Jungle often played at the Gibus, sometimes sharing the bill with Metal Urbain, the only band whose aura would later transcend the French borders (“I saw them as the French Sex Pistols,” said Geoff Travis, head of their British label Rough Trade). Already established in this small scene, Metal Urbain helped the young and restless Guilty Razors who had just arrived. Guitarist for Metal Urbain Hermann Schwartz remembers it: “They were younger than us, we were a bit like their mentors even if it’s too strong a word… At least they were credible. We thought they were good, and they had good songs which reminded of the Buzzcocks that I liked a lot. But at some point, they started hanging out with the Hells Angels. That’s when we stopped following them.”

The break-up was mutual, since, Guilty Razors, for their part, were shocked when they saw a fringe element of the audience at Metal Urbain concerts who repeatedly shouted “Sieg Heil” and gave Nazi salutes. These provocations, even still minor (the bulk of the skinhead crowd would later make their presence felt during concerts), weren’t really to the liking of the Perez brothers, whose anti-fascist convictions were firmly rooted. Some things are non-negotiable.
A few months earlier (in July 1978), Guilty Razors had nevertheless opened very successfully for Metal Urbain at the Bus Palladium, a more traditonally old-school rock night-club. But, as was sometimes the case back then, the night turned into a mass brawl when suburban rockers came to “beat up punks”.

Back then, Parisian nights weren’t always sweet and serene.

So, after opening as best as they could for The Jam (their sound having been ruined by the PA system), our local heroes were – once again – met outside by a horde of greasers out to get them. “Thankfully,” says Tristam, “we were with our roadies, motorless bikers who acted as a protective barrier. We were chased in the neighbouring streets and the whole thing ended in front of a bar, with the owner coming out with a rifle…”
Although Tristam and the Perez brothers narrowly escaped various, potentially bloody, incidents, they weren’t completely innocent of wrongdoing either. They still find amusing their mugging of two strangers in the street for example (“We were broke and we simply wanted to buy tickets for the Heartbreakers concert that night,” says Tristam). It so happened that their victims were two key figures in the rock business at the time: radio presenter Alain Manneval and music publisher Philippe Constantin. They filed a complaint and sought monetary compensation, but somehow the band’s manager, the skilful but very controversial Alexis, managed to get the complaint withdrawn and Guilty Razors ended up signing with Constantin with a substantial advance.

They also signed with Polydor and the label released in 1978 their only three-track 45, featuring “I Don't Wanna be A Rich”, “Hurts and Noises” and “Provocate” (songs that exuded perpetual rebellion and an unquenchable desire for “class” confrontation). It was a very good record, but due to a lack of promotion (radio stations didn’t play French artists singing in English), it didn’t sell very well. Only 800 copies were allegedly sold and the rest of the stock was pulped… Initially, the three tracks were to be included on a LP that never came to be, since they were dropped by Polydor (“Let’s say we sometimes caused a ruckus in their offices!” laughs Tristam.) In order to perfect the long-awaited LP, the band recorded demos of other tracks. There was a cover of Pink Floyd's “Lucifer Sam” from the Syd Barrett era – proof of an enduring love for the sixties’ greats –, “Wake Up” a hangover tale and “Bad Heart” about the Baader-Meinhof gang, whose actions had a profound impact on the era and on a generation seeking extreme dissent... On the album you’re now discovering, you can also hear five previously unreleased tracks recorded a bit later during an extended and freezing stay in Madrid, in a makeshift studio with the invaluable help of a drummer also acting as sound engineer. He was both an enthusiastic old hippie and a proper whizz at sound engineering. Here too, certain influences from the fifties and sixties (Link Wray, the Troggs) are more than obvious in the band’s music.

Shortly after a final stormy and rather barbaric (on the audience’s side) “Punk night” at the Olympia in June 1978, Tristam left the band ; his bandmates continued without him for a short while.

But like most pioneering punk bands of the era, Guilty Razors eventually split up for good after three years (besides once in Spain, they’d only played in Paris). The reason for ceasing business activities were more or less the same for everyone: there were no venues outside one’s small circuit to play this kind of rock music, which was still frightening, unknown, or of little interest to most people. The chances of recording an LP were virtually null, since major labels were only signing unoriginal but reassuring sub-Téléphone clones, and the smaller ones were only interested in progressive rock or French chanson for youth clubs. And what about self-production? No one in our small safety-pinned world had thought about it yet. There wasn’t enough money to embark on that sort of venture anyway.

So yes, the early days of punk in France were truly No Future!

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes.

The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process.

Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever.

The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before.


‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms.

Reframed is Vitess’ third album, released on his own label Retro Futura, and marks a new turning point in his artistic journey. Unlike his previous albums — the first fully exploring the Retro aesthetic, the second embodying the Futura — Reframed brings these two worlds together within a single, coherent yet eclectic body of work. The album opens with sounds inspired by 90s progressive music and gradually moves toward more futuristic textures. This album format gives Vitess complete freedom: the freedom to build a full, living musical experience, introducing for the first time a strong instrumental dimension — most notably through the use of live drums — and allowing each track to interact with others, transform, or mirror one another, while maintaining a clear narrative thread that guides the listener throughout.

The title Reframed directly reflects this approach. The album is built around tracks conceived as Recto / Verso, offering a form of double listening experience. On the one hand, electronic, club-oriented and progressive versions, designed for energy and dancefloor movement; on the other hand, more introspective, pop and instrumental counterparts, created for listening and storytelling. Starting from the same musical foundation — a vocal sample, a percussion element, or a melody — Vitess develops two distinct interpretations of the same track, generating contrasting yet deeply connected sonic worlds. This method, central to his creative process, highlights his ability to explore a single detail in depth and let a micro-element lead him toward radically different sonic dimensions, while ensuring coherence and a strong identity across the album.

For Reframed, Vitess also collaborates for the first time with other artists: Stupid Flash, ATOEM, and Lucile, selected for their ability to enrich his universe and push it toward new aesthetics. These collaborations recreate a sense of collective energy reminiscent of his early days playing in bands, while remaining true to the essence of the Vitess project: a primarily solitary approach rooted in exploration, experimentation, and embracing the unexpected paths each idea can take.

Grady Steele (Formant Soundsystem) debuts on FELT with the tender spectre of Nausea, poignant patterns captured through the dusk-hued window pane.

Co-founder of the Formant Soundsystem, a travelling rig that’s powered forward-thinking dances in London and Paris, Grady Steele has championed both experimental and club music at the cutting edge. Concurrently to this, he debuted his own productions back in 2024 for Archaic Vaults. Uniquely intimate, his music shone lowkey and warm with an assured glow. It’s no surprise then to find his inimitable sounds land neatly on Fergus Jones’ FELT imprint.

Nausea extends across seven movements, narrating sentimental parallels of familiarity. Grady posits concentrated pangs of post-rave nostalgia with rich melodic sustenance, a vivid introspection tempered with field recordings and live instrumentation. Strummed guitars and aching pads move purposefully with the suspended pace, an immersive beatless vista from its opening quiet moments through to the guttural noise-laden finale. It’s a brief, beautiful collection from Grady Steele and another string to FELT’s unpredictable bow.

Written, recorded and produced by Grady Steele

Mastered by Miles Whittaker

Cover photo by Alex Kurunis

British punk trio GRADE 2 return swinging with Talk About It, their third and most blisteringly realized album, out on Tim Armstrong"s storied Hellcat Records. It"s an 11-track surge that fuses classic punk"s bare-knuckle conviction with the disillusionment, identity crises, and quiet rage of Gen-Z-delivered by three Isle of Wight lifers who"ve been sharpening their edge since they fifirst bashed out covers at 14. Jack Chatfifield, Jacob Hull, and Sid Ryan have spent thirteen years turning raw instinct into a signature roar, and Talk About It captures them at full velocity. Their blistering track, "Cut Throat," distills their ethos: fifierce guitars, punishing rhythm, and a narra-tive of clawing forward while the world seems hellbent on pulling you under. "It"s about a world that takes more than it gives," the band says-and that tension becomes fuel, a rallying cry for anyone navigating a landscape that feels colder by the day. With Talk About It, GRADE 2 don"t just revive punk"s urgency-they embody it.

British punk trio GRADE 2 return swinging with Talk About It, their third and most blisteringly realized album, out on Tim Armstrong"s storied Hellcat Records. It"s an 11-track surge that fuses classic punk"s bare-knuckle conviction with the disillusionment, identity crises, and quiet rage of Gen-Z-delivered by three Isle of Wight lifers who"ve been sharpening their edge since they fifirst bashed out covers at 14. Jack Chatfifield, Jacob Hull, and Sid Ryan have spent thirteen years turning raw instinct into a signature roar, and Talk About It captures them at full velocity. Their blistering track, "Cut Throat," distills their ethos: fifierce guitars, punishing rhythm, and a narra-tive of clawing forward while the world seems hellbent on pulling you under. "It"s about a world that takes more than it gives," the band says-and that tension becomes fuel, a rallying cry for anyone navigating a landscape that feels colder by the day. With Talk About It, GRADE 2 don"t just revive punk"s urgency-they embody it.

Stacey Kent is an American jazz singer in the mould of the greats, with a legion of fans, a host of honors and awards including a Grammy nomination, album sales in excess of 2 million and more than one billion streams, and Platinum, Double-Gold and Gold-selling albums that have reached a series of chart-topping positions.

Stacey, a comparative literature graduate with a passion for music, travelled to Europe to further her studies after receiving her degree from Sarah Lawrence College in NY. Through a series of twists of fate, she found herself in London where she enrolled in a graduate music program at the Guildhall School of Music and Drama, where she met her future husband and musical partner, Jim Tomlinson.

Kent's musical journey began with childhood piano lessons. A keen ear and true voice lead her to search out opportunities to express her love of music. However, nothing suggested the shift from the academic path to the one that propelled her to international recognition as one of the foremost jazz singers of her generation. With a catalogue of 13 studio albums, including the Platinum selling, Grammy-nominated Breakfast On The Morning Tram (Blue Note/EMI 2007) and an impressive list of collaborations, Stacey has graced the stages of nearly 60 countries over the course of her career.

Her worldwide fan base is testimony to her ability to express the emotional heart of her songs with delicately nuanced interpretations that transcend borders and defy categorization. Her unique multi-lingual repertoire includes standards, chanson, Bossa Nova, and originals written by Jim Tomlinson, her saxophonist/producer/composer/arranger husband in collaboration with the Nobel Prize-winning author, Kazuo Ishiguro with whom they have worked since 2006. She has also recorded with Brazilian legends, Marcos Valle, Roberto Menescal and Danilo Caymmi, and the celebrated French string quartet, the Quatuor Ébène.

Stacey's last studio album, Summer Me, Winter Me, was released in November 2023 on Naïve Records. A collection of fans' requests from her as yet unrecorded concert repertoire, Summer Me, Winter Me entered the French jazz charts at number 1 and has quickly established itself as a new highlight in her discography. She now returns with A Time For Love.

DOODSESKADER clearly haven’t had enough of redefining boundaries – they’ve only just gotten started. Tim De Gieter and Sigfried Burroughs return on April 3rd, 2026 with their third full-length album, The Change Is Me, a rollercoaster that can only be described as the unstable lovechild between witch house, hip-hop, industrial dream pop, and stadium rock that can’t decide if it wants to watch the world burn or shout from the rooftops that we need to save it. Their combination of grungy 90s melodies with distorted synths, sludgy bass, hard tuned vocals, rapping, singing, and explosions of undiluted rage at the current state of the world leave you wondering just exactly what it was you smoked last night, and if it was too much or not enough. The Change Is Me is an album that grabs you by the arm and asks if you’re ready to go on a grand adventure, then pulls you into its chaos before you can say “yes” or “no.”

Tim and Sigfried aren’t just breaking the boundaries between genres; they’re breaking out of their own Year cycle, a path they had laid out for themselves at the band’s inception in 2020. Up until now, the duo had set out to document their “journey to getting better” through writing one album each year: Year Zero (2020), Year One (2022), and most recently Year Two (2024). After spending eight months throughout 2024 and 2025 writing, recording, producing and mixing Year Three, the band scrapped the finished record entirely. Playing shows while simultaneously navigating the process of mixing Year Three created a sort of disconnect – the people that they were when they wrote that record and the people that playing shows made them become were no longer one and the same. “We’re people with faults and strengths, and we realized we needed to accept it. That’s equal parts bleak and liberating. If you’re so focused on self-improvement, you can’t even applaud yourself for how far you’ve come,” the band explains. “This project is meant to be a document of us and of the human condition, not a self-improvement handbook designed to keep us all stuck on what may or may not have happened to us or because of us in the past.”

DOODSESKADER chose instead to embark anew on a week-long creative journey in Tim’s own Much Luv Studio with one goal in mind: to make an album that captures who they are right now. Finally writing everything together in the same room for the first time in years, the process of bringing "The Change Is Me" to life was captured by Diana Lungu in their latest documentary, "Now I Know You See Me", out December 2nd, 2025.

"The Change Is Me" marks the beginning of DOODSESKADER’s shift into a more positive era, both musically and conceptually. Over the course of the 40-minute record we hear the two friends unite in a fight against a world that grows more and more disappointing, a concept made crystal clear in tracks like “Celebrity Culture Simp Farm,” “It Keeps On Stinging,” and of course the album’s epic closer “Suffering In Technicolor.” While their previous albums saw them trying to outrun their pasts and arrive at a better version of themselves, here the search for some external or internal revelation that will “make them better” is no more. It’s been replaced by the realization that change isn’t something we force: it’s gradual, and more importantly, it’s something that’s already there – we just need to reach out and accept it.

The band’s live appearances over the last several years have been instrumental in shaping their ideology. On stage is where the duo find connection; not only with the audience, but also with each other. Their sold-out release shows at Ancienne Belgique (2022) and VierNulVier (2024) have proven that they are one of Belgium’s must-see acts. Abroad, their energy has translated into a month-long EU/UK tour with French band Alcest in 2024, as well as appearances at festivals such as Roadburn Festival (NL), Eurosonic (NL), Hellfest (FR), Mystic Fest (PL), Jera On Air (NL), ArcTanGent (UK), Fluff Fest (CZ) and more.

"The Change Is Me" is out April 3rd, 2026 on DOODSESKADER’s own label, 45 Records.

WRWTFWW Records is very happy to announce the release of Interwoven, the deeply moving collaborative album from Ken-ichiro Isoda and aus (Yasuhiko Fukuzono) — now available on limited edition transparent sea green colored vinyl LP housed in a heavyweight sleeve with selective-varnish 3D print, as well as in digipack CD and digital formats.
Recorded between Hachijo Island and Tokyo, Interwoven distills two visionary voices of Japanese ambient and electronic music into a single breath of feather-light and quietly luminous meditative sound.

Isoda is a revered figure of New-age and environmental music whose work on Oscilation Circuit – Série Réflexion 1 (originally released on famed label Sound Process) has long attained mythic status. He composes, notably with harp and wind instruments, produces contemporary music and video game scores, and crafts his very own brand of ambient music from the volcanic island of Hachijo-jima. Tokyo-based electronic composer and synth master aus is known for tender, melody-driven soundscapes. From the two artists comes a dialogue suspended between land and sea, bridging the generation gap and the physical distance between them.

What began as a series of sketches — impressions of water, islands, and shifting light — gradually evolved into an exchange without explanation, a correspondence of sound that dissolved boundaries. In that anonymity, both artists discovered an uncommon freedom: a place where each could move lightly and intuitively, without expectation. The music drifts with a gentle, intuitive grace: lingering piano, soft cinematic synths, and field recordings that unfold like whispered recollections, while flute and saxophone lines pass through like occasional breezes — a human presence felt as warmth more than form.

Interwoven is music for those who cherish stillness and the delicate beauty of the everyday. It’s music for admirers of Satoshi Ashikawa, Midori Takada, Satsuki Shibano, Hiroshi Yoshimura, Takashi Kokubo, Brian Eno, and all who seek a quiet refuge in sound.

In Joe Meek's last months, he produced some of his best, hard-edged mod and proto-psychedelic records - like this one. But still he clung on to the name of the Tornados, like a touchstone, reminding him of his greatest success with the 1962 hit single ‘Telstar’.

This Tornados in 1966 was very different to the original line-up, based around an entirely different group called the Saxons, and had an entirely different sound. ‘No More You And Me’ has blistering guitar lines, and an intense soulful vocal; it's a British popsike monster that drives along like the Eyes or Wimple Winch. On the flip, ‘You Always Did What You Wanted’ is British blue-eyed soul, a terrific beat ballad with hypnotic swirling piano.

Both point to directions Meek could have headed in had he lived, and are A-grade 60s beat. It's the first time on vinyl for both tracks. And it's another brace of dancefloor-friendly tracks from Bob Stanley's Measured Mile label.

As collaborative projects often do, 33 has in time found a more fixed form, a kind of structure that turned it from a loose collection of collaborators gravitating around founders Bill John Bultheel and Alexander Iezzi into something resembling more of a traditional band. Not that there is anything conventional in their creative process tho, nor in the music itself… Nontheless Tripolar - their second album and first for Haunter - seems to take them closer to song territory than ever before.

The (progressive) graduation of multi-instrumentalist Cem Dukkha and vocalist/clarinet player Ivan Cheng from collaborators to full-time members has brought 33 to a more refined awareness of their possibilities as a creative unit, although their compositional process has retained a high level of spontaneity and musical madness. Tripolar was in fact assembled by editing hours of improvisation that Bultheel, Iezzi and Dukkah recorded with no specific endgame in mind. The sessions saw them exchange a variety of acoustic, electronic and electric musical instruments: percussions, guitars, strings, piano, hurdy gurdy, synthesizers and even CDJs as a tool of live sampling manipulation.

By molding the pieces into what they are now, the band managed to concoct some beautiful vignettes of contradictory mental and emotional states, as sonically playful as a renaissance fair happening within a broken timestream. Cheng’s lyrical and vocal contributions helped them coalesce even further into proper songs, adding a melodic presence that’s at once seductive and uncanny. But vocal duties are often ceded to guests, namely Danish pop-neoclassicist Astrid Sonne, Kenyan metal guru Lord Spikeheart, Irish goth raconteur Olan Monk and Japanese body-poet Golin.The amount of different sounds arranged into each of the tracks produces a unique sense of awe and bewilderment, a testament to the incredible talent and craft the musicians have employed into putting together such a broad range of influences and approaches into a coherent and extremely effective musical journey.

An equally erratic thematic thread seems to run through all the tracks, one ultimately preoccupied with mental health and its ramifications. Without turning the project into a concept album, 33 and their collaborators have sprinkled it with references to personality disorders and mental conditions that are all too relevant to the contemporary age, reflecting on the lineage of human inner life. A wide display of lyrical and musical tools is employed to explore these themes, ranging from Sonne’s expressionist depiction of ADHD in the opener, to Cheng’s queer-themed reinvention of an Irish murder ballad in closing track ‘Babymusicc’. Tracing lateral trajectories for introspection, Tripolar is not only highly captivating, but it ultimately sounds esoteric in the best possible way: progressively revealing layer after layer of incredible aural magic, its true meaning living in the form and in its manic scope of energies.

In many ways, OLDE OUTLIER rise from the legacy of Australia’s late Innsmouth — a cult band whose 2014 debut Consumed by Elder Sign endures as an underground classic. The connection is more than symbolic: guitarist Askew, vocalist Appleton, and bassist Greenbank all passed through Innsmouth’s ranks, while Beau Dyer now leads this new incarnation after years spent shaping the sound of Innsmouth and the earlier project Grenade.

From Shallow Lives to Shallow Graves marks OLDE OUTLIER’s recorded debut, a four-track, thirty-five-minute descent into their own cavernous realm. While faint echoes of Innsmouth’s inspirations — Armoured Angel and early Samael — linger, the band draw from a broader and far more obscure constellation. Shades of Amon Goeth, Martyrium, Head of the Demon, and Florida’s Equinox collide with the spectral drift of Ophthalamia and early Katatonia and Tiamat, all eroded and blackened into something untraceable.

Despite these depths, OLDE OUTLIER avoid any sense of technical indulgence. Their sound carries a rough, deliberate simplicity — a raw and smoky power that pushes each of the four long tracks forward with unhurried certainty. The songwriting unfolds through patient repetition and subtle shifts, allowing motifs to seep into place and gradually hypnotise. Appleton’s low gutturals bring a grim, expressive edge reminiscent of early Septic Flesh or Thou Art Lord, while the more open, lead-driven riffing imparts a distinctly archaic heavy metal aura that separates this band from their origins.

At many moments, that union of grit and atmosphere surpasses even Innsmouth’s achievements. Accented by well-placed clean and chorused guitar lines, From Shallow Lives to Shallow Graves becomes an immersive and strangely timeless work — a glimpse into an ancient, dimly lit world where OLDE OUTLIER feel less like a new formation and more like something unearthed from a forgotten past.

Daniel Steinberg debuts on Rekids the Berlin-based Arms & Legs boss drops the ‘Free Living’ EP

Berlin-based producer and DJ Daniel Steinberg lands on Rekids for the fi rst time with the ‘Free Living’ EP, 13th March 2026. Active for over two decades and emerging at the height of the stripped-back, funkier end of minimal house, Steinberg has built a reputation for pairing infectious hooks with tightly programmed grooves, and has ploughed his path via his label, Arms & Legs Records, as well as labels like NuGroove, Front Room, and Southern Fried.

The title track of Daniel Steinberg’s ‘Free Living’ EP sets the tone with slow-slung, dusty House pressure, where restraint and subtlety shape a deep, immersive groove. Blues-tinged vocal fragments sit low in the mix alongside understated trumpet motifs and tender chords, forming a warm-up cut that gradually raises the energy. ‘Concrete Master’ shifts gear entirely, delivering raw, in-your-face house driven by sleazy rap snippets and snarling hits, built for peak-time impact. ‘Seven Sense’ follows with turbo-charged momentum, pairing vamping piano lines with gospel-leaning vocal stabs for hands-in-the-air release, before ‘Perfect Catch’ closes the EP with loopy chords, chopped grooves, and a playful, party-starting sensibility, delivered with characteristic precision. Founded in 2006, Radio Slave’s Rekids expanded with the techno-focused Rekids Special Projects in 2017 and its latest sublabel, REK’D, in 2024. With Matt Edwards as sole A&R, Rekids continues to champion emerging and established artists alike, remaining a trusted home for house and related sounds, with recent releases from DJ Minx, Echonomist, Tal Fussman, and more.

As Nathan Fake rises from the nocturnal subterranea and rave catharsis of his previous records, on Evaporator, he resurfaces into the domain of daylight, bringing a tangible sense of air rushing against your face, of big skies, and endless landscapes. The idea of pop accessibility that trickled into 2023’s Crystal Vision is refracted here through the prism of sweeping ambient, deep electronica, and trance uplift. Evaporator is Fake’s idea of “airy daytime music”, with each track a different barometer reading across the album’s varying atmospheres, which range from vibrant sunbursts, bracing rainscapes, and fine mists of clement melodics. “It’s not overtly confrontational electronic club music,” states Fake. “It’s quite pleasant, it’s accessible. As I was progressing through making the tracklist, I called it a daytime album. It doesn’t feel like an afterparty album.” For the past decade Fake has been gingerly introducing collaborations with heroes and friends alike into his lone, idiosyncratic working process. Border Community alumni Dextro AKA Ewan Mackenzie transmutes his ferocious drumming for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs into the blurred choral thump of ‘Baltasound’. ‘Orbiting Meadows’, meanwhile, is his second collaboration with Clark, an eerily idyllic duet where microtonal 18EDO piano clangs slowly twirl around wailing pads. Evaporator marks the junction point of old technology and ever fresh creativity for Nathan. The trusty “dinosaur” age software, particularly Cubase VST5, that has powered two decades of music is rarely updated. “I used to sort of feel a bit ashamed of using such old software, and then I kind of had an epiphany – that’s just how I work”, comments Fake. “That’s just how I play. I’m very fond of these old tools, and I get the most joy out of them, but now I’ve incorporated new technology too.” When an artist accumulates so much synergy with their instrument, music making becomes instinctual. By Fake’s account, much of Evaporator just fell into place. The album title arrived randomly in his head (“it felt completely perfect. Airy.”), ideas looped and developed until things locked into place and just felt right. ‘The Ice House’ is a fleeting glimpse of the sonic world he taps into in this creative state, its glassy FM synths built around a counterpoint between rough-hewn crystalline arpeggios and sparse yet gravitas-bearing bass. “That riff I just wrote out on the keyboard, I just played it forever and ever and ever. The original track ended up being really short. Here you go, and it’s gone!” These unplanned channellings of sound call forth records from Fake’s past while he looks ahead, perhaps getting at the very essence of his musicianship. The opener ‘Aiwa’ (“the breeziest,” he muses) reminds of the introspection that characterised Providence, excited by the fire and grit of Steam Days’ textural experiments, its chunky slams and clatters surging into a flood of harmonic buzzing as they reach out for old wisdom. ‘Hypercube’ stampedes in a similar chronological confluence, infusing an incessant synth line reminiscent of the golden age of rave with the crackling, ecstatic energy of modern festival anthems. Like the vaporisation of liquid to particles, everything that Evaporator presents has a mutant desire to be amorphous. Sounds rarely settle; the irradiated garage beat of ‘Bialystok’ is pitched downwards to driving, rebounding effect, while ‘You’ll Find a Way’ warps static into shivering energy, cinematic synth strings building anticipation into a gradual gush of chords. This translates into a more expansive stereo field than Fake has explored before. ‘Slow Yamaha’ saves the wildest, most kinetic transformations for last with a cornucopia of crispy melodies and fried drums; a sibilance of cymbals on the left, a susurrus of shakers on the right, and kaleidoscopic lasers pulsing and fizzing all around. Evaporation culminating in pure excited atoms. In a world where music has increasingly become background content, making albums remains lifeblood for Fake: “It makes me realise how long; twenty years is ages! It’s weird to see how much the world has changed. Release day back then you did fuck all, now you spend all day on socials. When I grew up the people who made the electronic music I was into were quite mysterious, and the artwork was very abstract. There was a massive distance between you and that music, and that was a key part of it, really. Now it helps to be an extrovert, and I'm just not, but the album marks the first time my face has graced the cover art. I’ve never wanted to do this before, I'm very shy, and generally I don’t like being seen,” he professes. “But, twenty years in, I supposed I could try something new. I'm very lucky that I'm somehow surviving in this world, where the media world favours extroverts and interesting looking people. It’s not my world but somehow I’m still in it.” Evaporator continues to prove Nathan’s necessary presence, with some of his most engaging, varied, and magical music yet.

»Low Tide, Hi Grypus!« is the new live-iteration of JC Leisure as JC Leisure Group. Documenting an encounter and a communication between human improvisers and atlantic grey seals. The record presents responsive improvisation as a form of cross-species collaboration.

The project began on Porthdinllaen, Wales, where Leisure recorded seal vocalisations from a local colony at low tide. Back in their Liverpool studio, Leisure developed a performance system that translates human musical gestures – pitch, timbre, rhythm, density, presence - into triggers for these seal expressions. The resulting system is dual-active, as in it simultaneously acts and is acted upon in the horizontal instance. It creates a new-music non-linear threshold that cannot be replicated.

»Low Tide, Hi Grypus!« was recorded live at 1210 Berlin and captures one instance of this concept. Local improvisers were invited to encounter the performance system. Recorded in one take, pedal-steel, woodwinds, strings, piano, organ, and electronics gradually learn to listen and respond to the marine voices. This interspecific group moves from intimate duets (that's human, seal) into full ensemble works (humans, seals) over the course of one night.

Rather than treating field recordings as static material, the extensive seal archive functions as an active collaborator: shaping form, pacing, and interaction in real-time. Now that’s marine biology meets human communication!

JC Leisure has previously released work on Sun Ark, Warm Winters Ltd, Not Not Fun and collaboratively with Dialect as Raft of Trash. He has composed a radio play commissioned and broadcast by BBC Radio.