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Tech-Nology was launched in 2003 specifically to make records with the artist Bjorn Svin. Bjorn was the first Danish artist who made underground crossover into commercial hit territory via "Mer Strom" - but still keeping respect in the "real" music world for his enthusiasm, non-compromising style, persona, and sweaty live performance skills - his musical understanding and need to explore new directions took the crowd on a personal musical journey from jazz and classical musicians to early electronic pioneers - but always in a tone of his own. Bjorn always felt a need to escape norms, to grow and not to repeat, but investigate and create. The first record on Tech-Nology was born under the alias - El Far: Couples of lonely dancers. "Bjorn is maybe the most talented electronic producer ever in Denmark" and he was celebrated as a wonder kid by the media back in the 90's. An insider with new knowledge of Bjorn told us: "Yeah I think its good music.. It's not for everyone I must add, but it's definitely quality music for those who dig this sound.. sometimes a bit too deep.. which kind of works against it, cause you really need to listen to it.. you cannot just skip through it, cause then you don't really grasp the soul of it.. so this is what makes it more difficult to sell - but if a guy like this was a bigger name he would sell much better.."

We love Bjorn and we agree - We have tried to sell Bjorn and his music for over 2 decades now - But you can't capture Bjorn, you can't own him - he is only making music for himself - and you can get on the ride if you want to, but don't expect all the rides to be fun - sometimes it hurts! Bjorn is difficult to sell, but we don't think Bjorn really would like to sell much better if he had the option to do a more commercial approach to his music - because Bjorn is about not selling out, he's a purist at heart, making music documents for the few. Bjorn is bigger than superficial success and streaming numbers. He made jingles for Nokia, toured and played Roskilde's main stage, the biggest Festival in Denmark, but he still doesn't care... and that is important if you want to make interesting music that last for the future. When Bjorn met Mester Jakobsen, label boss of Tech-Nology, he has been releasing on numerous underground labels, made the jump to a major label, and everything more or less turned out as a big disappointment, so Bjorn presented a completely experimental album to the Tech-Nology label under the moniker Prinz Ezo - The Body Offset. We loved it then - we still love it now - and a truly collectors item and a secret DJ tool.

Today, Bjorn is still breaking all habits and rules, still doing the same thing - just in new ways, but he has gained insight on another level, adding even more nuances and textures to his post-genre compositions.

Welcome to the second album by Prinz Ezo on Tech-Nology: KURIER Why Kurier? Because Bjorn left to explore the Berlin Underground, shortly after the first two releases on Tech-Nology - he left his roots to search for a bigger meaning, a bigger understanding, to compose real mature sounds and understanding his skills, at the point where you understand why you have to cross borders, still incognito, doing smuggler-sounds, always in transit - between cities, between cultures, between worlds, time and space. Not Restless nor rootless, just forever on the move, always discovering new landscapes! But now Bjorn is settling down - accordingly with the music - to find - not inner peace, but to be completely in balance with the music inside of him. Prinz Ezo is raw, narrative, minimalistic electronic storytelling that refuses to freeze. Tension builds and releases - feel the energy and the drama for the last 2 decades if you dare to take the journey?

Almost twenty years after the first Prinz Ezo album, it has now been possible to make the music for those who never arrived.

Der offizielle Soundtrack zu "Frieren: Beyond Journey's End" von Evan Call ist jetzt als Doppel-Vinyl erhältlich. Diese exklusive 2-LP-Ausgabe bringt die emotionalen Höhepunkte von Frierens Reise auf den Plattenteller - eine Reise voller Freundschaft, Verbundenheit und der Kostbarkeit gemeinsamer Zeit. Die zwei coloured LPs (in Smaragdgrün und Kobaltblau) kommen in einem liebevoll designten Gatefold und mit einem Insert mit Original-Illustrationen. Ein Must-Have für alle, die Frieren, Himmel, Heiter und Stark ins Herz geschlossen haben.

Lucy Duncombe and Feronia Wennborg compose a modern symphony for virtual choir on 'Joy, Oh I Missed You', muddling sound poetry with Nuno Canavarro and ‘Systemische'-style machine-damaged surrealism. Like a mashup of Lee Gamble's 'Models', Akira Rabelais' 'Spellewauerynsherde' and Robert Ashley's timeless 'Automatic Writing’ screwed to perfection.

Duncombe and Wennborg have been chewing over ‘Joy, Oh I Missed You’ for four long years, working their process until they were "queasily intimate" with their arsenal of artificial voice tools. Tracing the history of the technology, from voice synthesisers and chatbots to AI voice analysis tools, the duo experiment relentlessly to develop a digital-age response to IRL extended vocal technique - think François Dufrêne, Yoko Ono or Phew. Less interested in replicating human sounds exactly, they instead test how various tools might cough up their own idiosyncratic tics as they stretch and stutter through attempts to mimic their "fleshware" counterparts.

Duncombe's got prior form here, most recently re-synthesising her voice on the brilliantly oily 'Sunset, She Exclaims' 45 for Modern Love, following a stunner for 12th Isle in 2021. Wennborg brings along experience from her tenure as one half of microsound duo soft tissue, whose 2022 LP 'hi leaves' (Students of Decay) was a haptic treasure. These approaches mesh remarkably well on their first collaborative full-length, with Duncombe's eerie bio-electronic incantations providing the ideal foil for Wennborg's carbonated hardware processes. It's not completely clear where the human voice ends and the zeroes and ones begin on 'Your Lips, Covering Your Teeth', as rolling cyborg syllables tumble over OS-startup womps and surprisingly svelte outcroppings of glassy, synthetic glitches. The music is surprisingly mannered, a sonic reflection of the cover, where a mouth is pixellated until only colour swatches remain. Duncombe and Wennborg trace the gradual erosion of their voices, leaning into the chaos as their various tools veer off into unique patterns of failure.

What sounds like a far-off, ghosted folk rendition (we're reminded of the Icelandic laments that Rabelais chewed up on 'Spellewauerynsherde') is offset by gnarled, bitcrushed machine faults and pneumatic lip smacks on the brilliant 'Residue', and on 'Brushed My Hair', the duo massage the voice until it sounds like a flute. Assembling stutters and barks and sighs into a celestial chorus alongside time-stretched moans, they create a levitational atmosphere on 'Smell It', freezing the energy from bizarre pitch steps to configure a zonked vocal ensemble.

'Joy, Oh I Missed You’ is an album that, like its source material, constantly morphs, testing the boundaries of its concept repeatedly without bubbling over into conceptual goo. In fact, it's remarkably euphonious, even at its most theoretically abrasive; Duncombe and Wennborg wring out uniquely angelic formations through a process of trial and error that packs a surprising, hefty emotional punch.

The writer Max Sebald often pondered over the nature of human memory, specifically, how our thoughts and desires - and their results - overlap and mutate over time. In A Place in the Country, he writes of the significance of what see as “similarities, overlaps and coincidences”. Are they the “delusions” of the self and senses, or manifestations of “an order underlying the chaos of human relationships, ... which lies beyond our comprehension”?

Song of the Night Mists, the new album by post-classical composer Stefan Wesołowski, often feels it draws on Sebald’s premise.

On a simpler plane, the one where the market dictates the neatly ordered information we consume, Song of the Night Mists can be described thus: recorded in the main by Stefan Wesołowski in Gdańsk, both in his studio and in Saint Nicholas' Basilica, the album incorporates acoustic instruments - piano, violin, double bass - and classic synthesizers such as the Roland Jupiter-8, the Soviet Polivoks. A Roland Space Echo RE-150 tape delay was also pressed into service as an instrument. We also hear the basillica’s organ and field recordings from the Tatra Mountains. Other musicians were Maja Miro, who played the flute parts on ‘Glacial Troughs’ and brother Piotr Wesołowski, who played the organ on ‘Wilhelm Tombeau’. Sound engineer was Marcin Nenko, who was also on hand to record the basilica organ parts. The album was mixed in New York by Al Carlson (Oneohtrix Point Never, Jessica Pratt, Zola Jesus, Lady Gaga, and Liturgy) and Rafael Anton Irisarri handled the mastering.

Ostensibly, Song of the Night Mists is the last in a trilogy, following on from albums Liebestod (2013) and Rite of the End (2017). All three deal with existential matters such as love, death, decay and “an ultimate end”; apocalyptic and Promethean in spirit, and betraying very human conceits. The Sebaldian nature of the new record starts to make itself felt when Wesołowski talks of how he used sampling. One element is unexpected, that of sampling himself: “I go back to dozens of my own unused sketches and recordings, treating them as raw material to cut, slow down, reverse, and transform in every possible way.” Memory as sound, to be reemployed by the listener through their own imaginings.

Another set of samples made by Wesołowski plays another role. These are field recordings, originally created for an audio illustration of the formation of the Tatra Mountains, and used in a film by sound designer Michał Fojcik. Wesołowski: “You can hear cracking ice, streams, footsteps in the snow and the wind, and a real avalanche, recorded from the inside.” The “Tatra connection” on the album is also found in samples referencing composer Karol Szymanowski. The album’s title alludes to a poem about the mountains by Polish poet, Kazimierz Przerwa-Tetmajer.

Wesołowski’s Tatra recordings are “about a world without humans - about the fact that the world existed, was beautiful, and had meaning long before people arrived, and for the vast majority of its history, it was a place without us.” Wesołowski, using one iteration of the natural world, plays out in sound Sebald’s idea of another order, underlying the chaos of human relationships lying beyond human comprehension.

These feelings play themselves out on the five album tracks. Sonorous and rich, they illustrate tectonic shifts we have no control over. Wesołowski hints that the overall sound is a “meditation on the metaphysics of the non-human set against the spirituality that human presence has brought into it.” In that light, the opening number, ‘Core’, with its slow build, and crackling and straining sound effects, create an effect of the earth groaning into life in a creation myth. Once the piano part raps out a simple melody and modulated tonguing trumpet samples add to the overall atmosphere, the listener can certainly find a cue in the “spiritual”, or “human” side of the story. Human versus nature: from the strains and harmonic muscle stretches of the second number, ‘Glacial Troughs’, through to the powerful and filmic ‘Stalagmite’ and heart-on-sleeve romance expressed in closer, ‘Wilhelm Tombeau’, we listeners are cast as Friedrich’s wanderer, looking out over a landscape that will appear only if we engage with it.

Formations of melody appear incrementally, almost appearing by chance - like hidden footings in the rock shelves to give us something to grasp onto. Rhythms are used sparsely: the prolonged percussive taps on ‘Glacial Troughs’ are an anomaly and maybe there to give pace to the album to come; essentially to keep the listener strapped in. Elsewhere, percussion is used as an aid to mood, the two thudding, timpani-style passages on ‘Peak’ there to offset the short, beautiful, kosmische passage that splits them.

Elements of the borderline religious spirit that drove German electronic music in the late 1960s and 1970s also find a place on Song of the Night Mists. The swells and recessions of the organ find their emotional climax on ‘Wilhelm Tombeau’, a track which summons up echoes of the “mountain magic” vistas created by Popol Vuh or Tangerine Dream, especially with the slightly atonal wobble of the Mellotron that counters it.

This is a dramatic album, but it does feel a strangely short, or curtailed listen on ending, evoking the feeling one gets when waking from a dream, and, for all its incipient grandeur, a track like ‘Stalagmite’, for instance, ends on a minor note. Wesołowski admits that Song of the Night Mists is born of the all too human process of temptation, doubt and recalibration - Sebaldian overlaps and coincidences forming something that must live another life, away from its creator. In Wesołowski’s words, the album is “a newborn foal must stand up and walk right after birth.” Now it is yours to ponder.

VHF debut and second widely-available LP by Liam, part of a new generation of underground “American primitive” guitar players serving the traditions and smashing them up simultaneously. Prodigal Son is a portrait of an artist on the road, changing fast, recording things as they spring from the fountain. The sound here is raw – grass and dirt instead of pre-fab; homemade/handmade instead of high-tech, etc. There’s a visceral quality and immediacy of culture that’s being lost every day in modern life – Prodigal Son is a chance to grab some of it back. “Palmyra” has Liam on weissenborn-style lap steel, the sound fuzzed out and distorted by the guerilla recording technique. “Salmon Tails Up The River” stretches out to nearly 13 minutes, a dense meditation on 12 string that sustains a dark and heavy mood for the entire duration. On the B side, “Insult to Injury” reverses the mood, with an elegant and unhurried 12 string sequel of deep beauty. Liam’s unexpected take on Loren Conners’ “A Moment at the Door” is a perfect translation of Loren’s reverb-heavy electric drift to unadorned acoustic (and tape hiss) – a frozen moment of absolute grace. Wrapping things up is a take on “Old Country Rock,” with fiddle and banjo, just a brief taste of the barnstorming old-time sound of Liam’s touring trio.

In recent years, Blackploid has come to be one of Central Processing Unit's signature artists. The German producer has averaged more than a record a year for the Sheffield imprint since he first landed on CPU in 2021. This prolific run continues withCosmic Drama, Blackploid's second LP for the label. The album takes the baton from its predecessorEnter Universein style, delivering twelve tracks of top-quality machine-funk that draw down from electro's classic artists while also imbuing proceedings with a playfulness that very much gives things a signature Blackploid-ish flavour.

Cosmic Dramasets its stall out from the off. The opening run of 'Alien', 'World Construction' and 'Virtual State' all deliver piston-snapping beats which anchor pleasing melanges of B-movie synth lines. Alongside this, Blackploid adds little flourishes which add buoyancy to each joint - a syncopated bassline reminiscent of I-f's late-90s classic 'Space Invaders Are Smoking Grass', crackling robo-voiced commands, skittering synth chords which wash across the mix and so on. It's the work of someone completely at ease with their craft, comfortable enough to take risks without upsetting the apple cart of their sound's core appeal.

Blackploid's idiosyncratic approach to synth work is something which distinguishesCosmic Dramafrom the pack. Electro has long been a genre which prides itself on innovation on the keys, but few producers are willing to push their sonics as far as Blackploid does - take the seasick churn of pads and processors on 'Multiverse', for instance, or the way John Carpenter-esque single-note lines dovetail with gurgling synthetic pulses and eerie, spacious chords on 'The Lab', a highlight ofCosmic Drama's midsection.

Cosmic Dramaskips along at club tempo throughout - every one of these joints will get bodies moving in dark rooms across the galaxy. However, even when tracks maintain their single-minded pursuit of machine-funk perfection, they never forget to deliver on the hooks. Blackploid has lead lines (and counter-melodies) to burn here, and each track knots them together in ever-more intriguing ways as they plough onwards. Drexciyan heads will be thrilled by the sci-fi delights of 'Species', for instance, while Blackploid brings melodies as cold as they are catchy on the aptly-named 'Polar Dunes'. By the timeCosmic Dramahits upon the vroom-vrooming bassline line of closer 'Contact', you're fully enthralled to the album's combination of broken-beat heft and synthetic melodiousness.

Central Processing Unit mainstay Blackploid comes through with another delightful dozen of electro heaters for the Sheffield label.

RIYL:Drexciya, I-f, Cygnus, AFX

2025 Repress

Dom Dolla makes a triumphant return, with 'Take It', a deep, dark, heaving club mix that combines an evocatively catchy vocal, with a deep groove beat to create one hooky production. Off the back of his 2017 ARIA nomination for Best Dance Release for the huge collaboration with Torren Foot on 'Be Randy', Dom has been busy touring the globe, stewing away in the dark corners of clubs, tweaking 'Take It', until it reached tech-house perfection.

"I put the bones of this tune together in a hotel room while road tripping between gigs in Arizona earlier this year, feeling heavily inspired by the west coast club audiences I was playing to. The vocals were written and recorded while sick in bed, using my tour manager's iPhone earbud microphone and a duvet as my vocal booth. At the time I had planned on replacing my recording with a cleaner take when I got home to Australia, but was never able to recreate something I liked as much, so it stayed! It's been slaying it for me ever since.", Dom Dolla had to say on explaining the origins of 'Take It'.

Having received over 20 million streams and consecutive ARIA Club Chart #1s for the former and Define, his 2016 collaboration with Go Freek, it becomes obvious that perfection is a common occurrence for Dom Dolla. Also, giving reason to why Dom has been cherry picked for official remixes by the likes of RUFUS DU SOL, Flight Facilities, Peking Duk, Madison Avenue, Motez and Sneaky Sound System and ongoing festival slots at Beyond The Valley (closing out the festival 4 years running), Splendour In The Grass, EDC Las Vegas and Splash House Palm Springs.

With Chris Lake, Kyle Watson and Billy Kenny already jumping on board, 'Take It' will be sure to garner a solid amount of support from the big-dogs. This goes without saying when Pete Tong is your biggest supporter, playing a spate of Dom Dolla releases across BBC Radio 1, a guest mix on All Gone Pete Tong and chosen as support for Pete Tong's huge orchestrated Ibiza Classics show at Melbourne's Sidney Myer Music Bowl.

After being tried and tested, this track is 100% guaranteed to rip your heart out and 'take it' straight onto the darkest dance floor out there. Australia, hold tight for a tour announce very soon, otherwise you can catch Dom on dance-floors throughout the US from July.

11 million streams across Spotify, SoundCloud + YouTube
#1 ARIA Club Chart
#1 Beatport Overall
Named as Pete Tong's artist to watch for 2019

NZO goes sick on a standout debut album for Demdike Stare’s DDS, distilling 2-step UKG, R&B and computerised funk within whirring mechanisms adjacent to mutant jungle and footwork - the proper good stuff.

On ‘Come Alive’ SoYo’s NZO bruks wild but tight on nine tunes chiselled from a distinctive percussive palette cut into fidgety, soulful samples. She dances in and around the cracks of myriad styles with a canny grasp of limb-animating, rhythmic diffraction; all stop/start rhythms and stuttering diva-vocaloids arranged with a rudely shatterproof, grooving pliability. More simply put: it’s dance music for those who like to get super loose and freaky with it.

Chopped up and stitched together over six months in Sheffield, it’s not hard to hear a lineage of advanced Afro-American rhythm science that also feeds into SND’s jerky-but-sexy angularities, and subsequently Rian Treanor’s rugged pugilism, now morphing back to the source, but heavily skewed with it. Her judicious sampling of R&B gems is offset in obliquely funked-up structures in ways that knowingly mess with conditioned anticipations yet never lose sight of the ‘floor, and we’re here for it.

Jumping in with the writhing darkside tekkerz of ‘Rolling Around’ and clocking out with a standout downbeat pearl ‘Looking For’, we hear her displace amapiano closer to halfstep D&B in ‘AXMM’, and decimate 2-step like Akufen on ‘CFML’, while ‘K-space baum bap’ appears to dart in the spaces between UKG and singeli, and the sloshing congas, bass motifs and dub chords of ‘Deadweight’ settle to a sort of aqueous UKF.

‘selfsame’, the second 12” on false aralia, mirrors the structure of companion release ‘zero key’ in presenting an iterative exploration of versioning itself, unspooling a line of flight through four ascending rhythmic configurations. the objects at the center remain hard to glimpse: holographic percussion, snatches of breath, contorted blue chords, and roiling subs phase in and out of perception, interlocking, dissipating and reappearing as familiar silhouettes. the slow and quick domains of rhythm superimpose and bifurcate, perpetually just out of grasp, only visible in mutual reflection. the apparent solidity of the structure dissolves into a froth of microscopic activity upon close inspection.

With a clutch of EPs under his belt spanning a wealth of pallets, Henzo narrows the focus on his debut studio album “The Poems We Write For Ourselves” - a culmination of persistent iterations over several years, distilling his sonic milieu into something that feels decidedly his own. The album proper is coupled with a debut live performance which reinterprets the tracks and splices them with omitted material from the time of writing - recorded in full in the intimate confines of Manchester’s growingly infamous Stage and Radio basement. Honing his craft in the shadows of Lancashire, Poems is an expansive reflection of the producer’s time spent away committing to the scope of an LP.

A thread of stratified sound design weaves throughout the record, but with a discerning dancefloor proclivity mostly prevalent. Cold opener “Noggin” riffs on noughties Raster-Noton a la Byetone rebuilt with fractal tear out DnB, with closer “Indulgence” following suit on a puckered plod of Dub Techno ambience. More club-focussed moments come in the form of “Rustica Slump” and “Blue Will...”, the former’s sickly sweet vocals resolved by the latter’s stoic UKG/Techno rudeness. “A Bouquet of Clumsy Words” channels mechanical shuffle with a stripped back 2/4 pulse whilst maintaining a firmly FWD>>energy alongside “Plant Your Roots In Me” on a similar vector - swapping out a straight kick pattern for a bludgeoning 808 assault on an early Hessle-indebted tip.

“Take Stock, Touch Grass” harks to golden era ClekClekBoom and Night Slugs with a bare bones kick and vocal motif, updating the formula with a tweaking lead line that places it firmly in the contemporary space. “Swell:Shrink” sings from the same sheet with a shrieking, space age wobble doing the heavy lifting, knocking the pace back to a shoulder-lean swagger on a slow fast conundrum Henzo has shown his flair for on previous releases.

The outliers to Henzo’s more known approach, “Worm Grunting” with Belfast’s Emby, an amalgamation of halfest time DnB and illest mannered Road Rap, plus “The Rest Is The Mess You Leave”, a starkly anti-retro Ghettotek endeavour, give grounds to the LP. Clearly rooted in the comfortable universe of the dancefloor, these tracks expand the producer’s realm into loftier heights as he graduates into long play land.

HUGE CONGRATULATIONS TO MOXIE AND THE LOVE INTERNATIONAL X TEST PRESSING TEAM FOR WINNING THE BEST COMPILATION IN THE DJ MAG BEST OF BRITISH AWARDS 2025


“I feel really chuffed as a lot of work went into building this compilation,” beams Moxie, when we congratulate her on the award. “I also worked alongside a great team, including Dave Harvey, Ellie Stokes, Chez de Milo and everyone at Prime Distribution. I’d been manifesting working on a project like this for years, so when it all came together I was so happy with it. But to have recognition from the DJ Mag public vote is the cherry on the cake.”


Few artists have shaped their local scene quite like Alice Moxom under her celebrated Moxie alias. A born-and-bred Londoner, Moxie is a dance music powerhouse whose influence runs deep—from the grassroots to global stages. Her trajectory spans early teenage years digging for garage records, to dubstep sets at legendary club nights, to running her long-standing and beloved NTS Radio residency. For over a decade, she’s been a midweek staple on NTS, championing deep house, Detroit techno, and all things dubby, groovy, and percussive, while regularly platforming artists through guest mixes and interviews with icons like Jeff Mills, Four Tet, and Or:la.

Her latest endeavor, the Love International compilation, brings that wealth of experience to life. 'I’d secretly been manifesting this for a while,' Moxie admits. 'Love International has such a specific energy, and I wanted the compilation to reflect that—dubby, fun, euphoric, deep. It’s all the styles of music I love, pulled together in harmony. Being at Love International always feels like coming home. Whether it’s dancing in Barbarellas or sharing a smile with a stranger on the dancefloor, there’s this sense of unity that’s hard to describe. That’s why I chose ‘U Skladu’ for the sleeve—because that’s what it feels like: in harmony.'

On Soft Wish Oslo based soundartist Erik M merges noisy home recordings of acoustic instruments with fluctuating bass elements and his own voice to create a personal, muted landscape that carries notions of longing as well as contentment.

This is Erik Mowinckel’s first release on Kora and the first music arriving under his new moniker Erik M

I turned the page and will never forget what I then saw.

The fountain pen scratched against the paper, whistling like fur on an abandoned tire in the
middle of the night at the centre of the universe in the core of whatever it is I’m trying to believe.
I am a patient human and I live and breathe. I know this for sure.

I read about a whispering stillness of the Stadsnacht as my blood levels gradually even out again. Beneath the ink, the words take shape. This is a secret correspondence with the Book of Change – a dialogue not meant for eyes or ears, but for the soul. Are you still with me?

The Snake Rope tightens, its Coils Dive into the deep well of patience, where waiting is an art, a
dance with the unseen. The Scientists Say we should measure, predict, contain—but here, in
the shadow of the deepest of nights, the only truth is the Celebration of Ignorance. Love is the
force that binds as it untangles the invisible thread that refuses to sever. The next page quotes the mystical figure Daim: “Never Dissever Us.”

There, in the dawning light, the Dageraad reveals the Icequeen in her frigid throne, the Topiary Man standing guard in his sculpted silence. In this quiet landscape, I wait. I continue to wait, for I have good fortune on my very hands.

If You Won’t, I Will.

Can we exhibit the power to possess conformity? Can we redeem the benefits of crossing the water? Yes. The choice, the act of breaking through the barrier of convenience, is both a burden and a liberation.The words swirl, abstract and concrete, like action and inaction. The Book of Change is a paradox to puzzle over.

The evening cool rests its shoulders on my fluffy neck. I inhale as my pen lifts itself from the
paper once more, shedding ink as though it were tears of joy. I know that I have touched the
edge of something vast, something that moves beyond the grasp of reason into the heart of the
I Ching, the ever-turning wheel of change. This is the correct orientation. This is the vivid
imagery of clouds falling from the heavens and into our laps. This was never meant for your
ears. This was meant for you to feast on as the seasons bestow upon us

Trip-hop royalty Morcheeba make a blistering return with a stunning 11th studio album Escape The Chaos.

“This whole record is a process of trying to reconnect with what really matters. whether it’s what in your heart or with the world, putting your feet on grass and feeling the earth beneath you” says Ross Godfrey.

“For me, ‘We Live and Die’ is about my duration in the band and the music world and life in general,” Skye says of the lead single. “The lines become blurred after all this time. In a way, it’s a homage to the thirty years of being in Morcheeba which is 60% of my existence.”

Formed in London in 1995 the legendary band have extensively toured the globe, sold over 10 million albums worldwide and left their mark as one of the most influential acts of recent times. Releasing their acclaimed debut album Who Can You Trust? in 1996, the band have gone on to release a string of successful studio albums, including 1998’s platinum selling Big Calm, produced an album for Talking Heads’ David Byrne and produced soundtracks for Oscar-winning director Steven Soderbergh.

In their 30th year Morcheeba are as relevant as ever and are set to mark the celebration in style.

LIVE AT OBLICUO is a label of Abstract Electronica, experimental, downtempo releases. It's a collection of live concerts which takes place at Barcelona's OBLICUO HIFI Bar.

The Easy Mountain Listening album Live at Oblicuo records the performance at OblicuoHIFI in Barcelona on January 5, 2024

The atmosphere is densely populated by a crowd of gentle ghost sounds where uncertainty empowers tranquillity. Music to crack meanings of a deeper sea where broken textures need no repair. Its like Squarepusher in slowmotion is being sucked by Oval most hidden layers. There are no beats, and no easy way out in each these four adventures in the spatial self. Synthetizers sounds like blades floating underwater and the Phoenix will return again after seeming to disappear.

The musical project is called Easy Mountain Listening, and it features Warren Walker on Eurorack and Francesco Geminiani on the Buchla Easel. They both come from the jazz saxophone world, and one summer day in 2023 they got together for the first time to experiment with synthesizers. They recorded for a few hours and that first session, completely improvised, was magical. Something really fit, and that recording became their debut album, published on Foehn Records in June 2024.

Warren Walker
Tenor Saxophonist, synthesist, composer and producer Warren Walker comes from Grass Valley, California before moving to Paris, France in 2007. He operates in an effervescent musical universe that is in constant flux and infuses jazz with widescreen inspirations.

Francesco Geminiani
Tenor Saxophonist, electronic musician and composer Francesco Geminiani comes from beautiful Verona (IT) before moving to Switzerland, NYC and Paris. An endless musical curiosity drives him across styles and melodies, sharing the stage with great human beings across the New and the Old World. Inspired by the masters, he embraces impressionism to connect with the curious listener.

AN ATLAS OF LOSS

Do minerals dream of becoming semiconductors? Do they yearn to carry charges, amplify, switch, and convert energy into emotions comprehensible to humans? And what if, from the darkness of the underground, they had been listening to us sing in caves before the emergence of the first flute? Could they have guided us, through the course of history, to find them, extract them, and create new sounds through sinusoidal waves, to form valves and bend circuits?

If so, minerals would transition from what philosopher Eugene Thacker defines as the ‘planet’—that virginal and unreachable realm for humans that we study through geology, paleontology, and environmental sciences—to the ‘world,’ the space we inhabit, interpret, and synthesise in our daily lives. Sadly, we only remember the world when it erupts violently, through climate catastrophes or when a new virus emerges. Sometimes a tsunami collides with a nuclear plant, or viruses are cultivated as biological weapons in high-security laboratories, provoking a deep biological anxiety, hard to quell, which we all feel beneath our skin.

There exists a third realm, disconnected from both the world and the planet: the ‘earth’, an immense, dense rock floating in space alongside other planets, situated in the cosmological dimension. Relating to the earth is so complex that we only do so through theoretical speculations of a scientific nature or through science fiction, interweaving until one becomes the prophecy of the other, in an infinite, pendular dance. Beyond the darkness of space and Lovecraft’s cosmic horror, the fantasy of human extinction is the most recurrent: to reach a collapse so devastating that we do not survive it, even though the earth does, without us.

In a world where we quantify everything through body sensors, financial algorithms, nanometre-scale robots, and surveillance drones—a world in which everything that can be domesticated and controlled can also be commodified—a superior artificial intelligence would survive the collapse of the species (some speculate it might even cause it) and learn from our mistakes, thanks to our obsessive gathering of data.

Long after our voices fade, minerals will persist in the darkness of screens, in the silicon of chips, and in their pure form, still unexploited underground. Over the millennia, this intelligence might piece together fragments of our reasoning, as if an alien civilization finally connected with one of our spacecrafts loaded with messages cast into the void. It would sort through endless streams of data, unable to grasp the depths of emotion behind what it quantified, recreating simulations of our past, stripped of the nuance that once defined us and conducting experiments in sandboxes.

Some remnants of our existence—faint echoes of forgotten beauty—would be pieced together in an atlas of loss, buried beneath layers of numbers, decayed bots, and corroded hard drives. What will follow? Perhaps bison will once again roam—trotting to the strange pulse of techno, their ancient forms framed by the ruins of our cities.

Buildings will crumble, slowly dissolving under the soft touch of ambient music, and a thousand flowers will bloom with that ancient music created through electrical signals and computation. 7 songs for a future both improbable and inevitable—a final message from a world lost to itself, from planet Earth to planet Earth.

Alfons Pich, 2025

Isle of Jura teams up with French digger Switch Groove on the next compilation titled ‘Archipelago – Cosmic Fusion Gems from France (1978-1988)’.

Switch Groove explains the concept “When I seriously began to search for and collect records, I was mostly interested in sounds from african-american, afro-latin and UK contemporary scenes. Sounds from distant territories, faraway from my native Massif Central, a highland region in the middle of France. The grass is always greener, I guess however, as I was digging in fleamarkets in the early sunday morning light, as well as spending regular sessions in second hands record shops, I began to discover hidden treasures, underground gems and side-projects of an unknown French musical repertoire.

French music is often reduced to its most famous musical forms, characters and signatures : French songwriting and voices, 60s yéyé, prog rock concept albums and soundtrack explorations, 80’s indie rock scene or more recently electronic French touch. All these sounds have a common feature : a geographical link, forged on mainland French territory, following the contour of the so-called Hexagone, the border that shapes the grounds for an homogeneous cultural expression. But beyond this showcase lie more complex, hybrid and global French productions. From French Caribbean Antilles to Parisian suburbs - especially during the ‘Sono Mondiale’ era -, in French areas outside urban cultural centers, musicians have created fusion and cosmic musical expressions. As the mid-seventies meant a greater freedom to make and record music, a wider use of electronic instruments like synthesizers and drum machines helped to deliver some magical projects you could only find lost in the middle of cheap records during a sunny record digging session. I selected these tracks, in an attempt to shape an ARCHIPELAGO that highlights significative contributions of African diasporas and ultramarine territories into French musical borders. It is the map of a land I have gradually drawn, thanks to deep listening of amazing cosmic and fusion tunes. I hope you enjoy the journey.”

Wilson Tanner return to dry land with Legends, a wine-soaked agricultural fantasy, made among the grapevines at Manon Farm in South Australia. Where their earlier works settled into the sun-struck torpor of a suburban Perth backyard (69) or drifted off-course on a riverboat on Port Phillip Bay (ii), Legends trades salt air for vineyard sweat, the scrape of boots on dry earth and workers’ radios humming with the summer test cricket season.

Through this agricultural haze an image of a working vineyard emerges - ducks, dogs and plovers intrude; tractors and quads fly-by; stainless steel gleams at the edges. Recorded without mains power, the Manon demos overflow with farmyard ingenuity. Wind, brass, balalaika, balloon, pipe and synth are trained onto the staff with wire, tape and string.

A caricature of Australian viticulture, Legends is packed to the horns with the mythology and manure of natural wine. Swigging and belching in camaraderie, Wilson Tanner press their surroundings into something raw and unfiltered, letting bum notes, leftovers and sediment linger in the bottle. A cornucopia of biodynamic sounds.

At the heart of this double album, and amid the intense internal struggle between creative instinct an artistic reasoning, Ziggy has identified two key themes: Inspire and Radicalise. It is within this duality that the 15 tracks of this new work, recorded between Berlin and London throughout January 2024, take shape. Throughout its creation, the crew enlisted a familiar pallet of materials, seeking those obscure and vintage music-making machines, meeting a myriad of percussion and drums with the new addition of electric guitar as the band ventures into disco / highlife inspired territories. bring this ambitious project to life, Ziggy enlisted a team of forward thinking musicians across Europe and the UK alongside old friends and collaborators from the grassroots in Melbourne, Australia: Lewis Moody (Energy Exchange Records), Szabolcs Bognar (Abase), Eric Owusu (Jemba Groove), and Tom Varrall (Jamie Cullum) form the core rhythm section alongside a hefty list of guest appearances (from the likes of Oscar Jerome & Tom Driessler) making this truly the most ambitious and diverse incarnation of ZFEX to date.

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."