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The legacy of wipE′out′′ has transcended time and cemented itself as a true transgenerational phenomenon. Launched in 1995, it didn’t just revolutionise the gaming industry, it created a bridge between the gaming ecosystem and the raver community. Its futuristic aesthetics and forward-thinking sound left a mark not only on mainstream audiences but also on the most demanding corners of the underground.

Decades later, the game’s impact is still alive. The release in 2023 of The Zero Gravity Soundtrack on Lapsus Records proved once again that wipE′out′′’s accompanying audio will go down in history as much more than just an anti-gravity racing game soundtrack.

This is why we decided to go deeper into the slipstream and build the second volume you’re now holding in your hands. Drawn from the original archives of Tim Wright, aka CoLD SToRAGE, this new collection surfaces unreleased cuts, pieces that couldn’t fit on the first edition, and a suite of self-authored ambient reworks that translate pure velocity into wide-screen atmospherics engineered for the long straights, the drone of airbrakes, the blue hour between checkpoints. It also reconnects the circuit, gathering selections and variants tied to later chapters of the saga — wipE′out′′ HD and wipE′out′′ Pure — plus alternative mixes that, until now, only existed in the Sega Saturn dimension of the franchise.

Finally, the material takes a leap into the future in the hands of four remixers especially chosen for this release: Tim Reaper, SHERELLE, Mantra, and NikNak, who collectively forge links between CoLD SToRAGE’s pioneering musical vision, the sound world of the game, and the contemporary breakbeats and drum & bass vanguard.

Expect the DNA you remember — accelerated breaks, trance-vector synths, jungle influences, sub-bass rumbling neatly beneath the craft’s hull, and at times even echoes of classic hardstyle — now revealed with new angles and air. The previously unheard material carries the same aerodynamic design sense that made these tracks feel faster than the track map itself, while the ambient versions open the field of view with melodies hovering at the lip of overdrive. Without a doubt, here you’ll find a strong sense of nostalgia. But this isn’t just nostalgia; it’s also proof that this sound world continues to evolve when you ease off the throttle.

For the faithful — crate-digging ravers, speed-run obsessives, and design nerds — this is an essential expansion pack: compiling rarities, restoring context, and reframing the emotional core of wipE′out′′ for late nights and early mornings alike. Bridging memory and momentum, club and console, rush and afterglow. Strap in.

Detailed tracklist, with annotations by Tim Wright aka CoLD SToRAGE

· Scratch Pad 1: “This track was composed using incomplete tracks that were developed around the time of the first wipE′out′′. It’s so long because it was used for a marathon-length Psygnosis promotional video.”

· Messij Received: “Messij was a firm favourite with wipE′out′′ fans, so it made sense that there’d be more where that came from — this was one of those re-workings.”

· God’s Gift: “I was always very fond of Erasure’s track Love to Hate You with the canned crowd FX sounds. God’s Gift was a tongue-in-cheek reference to how some musicians think they are just that. This was way before I even played live as CoLD SToRAGE.”

· Tentative: “I wasn’t sure about introducing some wacky beats and distorted sounds into one of the tracks, because it was kinda heading away from the other tracks, hence Tentative — but it turned out OK.”

· Canada 2048: “When wipE′out′′ 2048 was launched I decided to re-make Canada as a kind of tribute, but in a slightly new-tech, laid-back way, using Propellerhead Reason and all software synths.”

· Wiped Out: “Based on a few riffs from a MIDI file unused at the time of the original wipE′out′′ game compositions, this featured on my debut album MELT.”

· Body in Motion (Body Plus Mix): “A more trippy interpretation of Body in Motion that featured on non PlayStation versions of the game e.g. Sega Saturn.”

· Onyx (“Dark Side of the Moon”): “Onyx was my sole contribution to wipE′out′′ Pure on the Sony PSP handheld gaming console. This version was something I developed in a darker style, that eventually erupts into a crescendo.”

· Messij Received (WSTWGBE Mix): “Like I say, Messij was a hit with most wipE′out′′ fans, so when I was asked to compose more music for non-PlayStation versions, I adapted this tune into a parallel-universe version for PC and Sega Saturn. By the way, WSTWGBE refers to Who Said This Was Going To Be Easy?”

· Canada (Drunken Ausländer Mix): “In early 2018 I released a fresh album called Ch'illout′′, a re-working of many of my wipE′out′′ tracks in an ambient, Sunday-morning vibe style — it was a few years’ work, here and there.”

· Tentative (Woffenfum Mix): “Another chilled re-working of one of my wipE′out′′ tracks, the mix named with a nod to a good friend of mine, Carl Woffenden — someone who I've worked with for many years in the games industry.”

· Messij (Bobbing Boat Mix): “A nice cheesy computer blip-blop start belies its deep and upbeat chilled-out melodic finale.”

· Body in Motion (Timeless Techno Mix): “Another classic track given the chilled-out vibe mix, as featured originally on my Ch'illout′′ album. This one’s a really trippy, deep-space take on the original.”

· DOH-T (AM / FM Mix): “The idea with this chilled-out mix was to imagine all the melodic parts of this varied track being broadcast on terrestrial radio, so each theme drifts in and out through the radio static.”

· ’95 Future Echoes: “Originally developed as a companion album for wipE′out′′ HD, this track actually has its roots in a tiny loop of a song that never progressed to anything special back in the mid-’90s when I was composing for the original game.”

· Turbine: “Also from my wipE′out′′ HD album, it leans heavily into the upbeat, uplifting tunes from the original game, but also steals a bit of vibe and energy from The Prodigy, with those distorted flute sounds.”

· Pencil Neck: “This excerpt from my wipE′out′′ HD album features lots of sounds centre-stage and forward from Propellerhead Reason’s Subtractor virtual synth. I learned to love this more than my JD-800!”

· Messij 2005 (New Science Mix): “Yet another take on the track that still raises a smile, this time through a mix of samples from the original and Propellerhead Reason — the ‘new science’ when compared to an Amiga 1200 running Bars and Pipes.”

Bird or Snake is the second full-length album from Em Spel, whose intricate, flute-driven alt-folk pulses with life, from the driving drums and propulsively patterned guitars of “Poet” (featuring guest Sam Wagster on soaring pedal steel) through the organ and vocal-driven road trip love song of “Fruiting Body,” which features bird songs recorded on a handheld microphone in Maine. Bird or Snake teeters joyfully between art-folk and intimate indie rock, with delightfully dizzying vocal harmonies and songs that veer between rock, ambient, experimental, and folk.

This music sounds like nothing else, but fans of Weyes Blood, PJ Harvey, Kee Avil, Robert Wyatt, Laraaji, Laurie Anderson, and Brian Eno will all find something to love.

The anticipation is there in Elizabeth Stokes’ solo guitar riff under the opening lines of “I’m Not Getting Excited”: a frenetic, driving force daring a packed Auckland Town Hall to do exactly the opposite of what the track title suggests.

As the opener of The Beths’ Auckland, New Zealand, 2020 expands to include the full band, the crowd screeches and bellows. It’s a collective exhalation, in one of the few countries where live music is still possible.

The album title, and film of the same name, deliberately include the date and location, lead guitarist Jonathan Pearce says. “That’s the sensational part of what we actually did.” In a mid-pandemic world, playing to a heaving, enraptured home crowd feels miraculous.

In March 2020, everything seemed on track for another huge year for The Beths. Home after an 18-month northern hemisphere tour, they had just finished recording sophomore album Jump Rope Gazers and were primed for more extensive touring. But within days, New Zealand’s lockdown split the band between three separate houses. All touring was cancelled.

“It was existentially bad,” Stokes says. As well as worrying about economic survival, they lost something crucial to the band’s identity: live performance. “It's a huge part of how we see ourselves... What does it mean, if we can't play live?”

The band found an outlet through live-streaming, returning to the do-it-yourself mentality of their early days to connect with a global audience. The album and film have their genesis in that urge to share the now-rare experience of a live show, as widely as possible.

The fuzzy-round-the-edges live-streams pointed the way aesthetically. Native birds, wonkily crafted by the band from tissue paper and wire, festoon the venue’s cavernous ceiling while house plants soften and disguise the imposing pipes of an organ. The presence of the film crew isn’t disguised: much of the camerawork is handheld; full of fast zooms and pans.

With much of the material still fresh, the band was less focused on re-invention than playing “a good, fast rock show”, Pearce says. The tempo is up on crowd favourites “Whatever” and “Future Me Hates Me” (released as a live single on its third anniversary) as both band and audience feed off the mutual energy in the room.

Certain songs have taken on special resonance post-Covid. Pearce has found “Out Of Sight”, a tender rumination on long-distance relationships, hits particularly hard with live audiences.

Album closer “River Run” visibly brings Stokes to tears as a mix of achievement and relief kicks in. “You can finally relax at that point … You play the last note, breathe out a sigh and look up - and you’re in a giant room full of people happy and smiling.”

It’s written in the Agreement Terms. There’s no getting out alive in Life. And yet, mankind keeps striving for eternal life; through art, through power, through cryogenics, through singularity. In that misguided quest against the inevitable, we all fall into the category of lost travellers. No one is exempt. In that understanding, Confucius MC and producer Bastien Keb offer no misgivings about the destination on the somber “Time Will Come”: Time will come for all of us / try to take your time.

Songs For Lost Travellers is a collaborative album by Con and Bastien Keb that merges unexplored pathways between rap, folk, and jazz into a spiritual triumvirate. Each genre is a balancing force within the record. The result is an album unlike either artist have made previously, possibly unlike any record in existence. Songs For Lost Travellers opens with bedtime stories and fairytales. Both “Tell Me Lies” and “Fairytale” present the creature comforts that trick us into forgetting the truth. Con’s first words spoken are “tell me lies ‘til I swear I can’t remember” over Keb’s lo-fi plucking that feels like it was lifted from a handheld recorder capturing a nursery mobile above a crib. Third track “Time Will Come” resets the album after acknowledging on “Fairytale” there’s “no nourishment in half-truths / no sustenance in eating lies.”

Honest and direct, Con and Keb imbue Songs For Lost Travellers with knowledge and truth from their lived experiences. There is grief hidden in the notes, an inherent sadness that is balanced with an awareness that grief is a protest against the social machinery of remaining numb. The record lingers in a meditative state, unafraid of restlessness and embracing solitude, with the expectation that peace is just as imminent as death.

The production contains a complimentary authenticity. Neither Con nor Keb bothered much with the professional studio in making Songs For Lost Travellers. Instead they opted for the raw state of their home recordings and first takes, matching the intimacy of being alone and reflective in their creative energies. Room static on “Tell Me Lies” makes it feel like you’ve entered their apartments. The immediacy continues on “Gutters,” as Keb plays guitar while watching the tele and Con hums along to the vocal melody in search of the proper pocket for his verse. Someone snaps their finger to mark a cue, but the snap never returns to the mix to keep time.

More drawn to Keb’s recent folk recordings on the Songs For Lilla EP than his funk roots circa Dinking In The Shadows of Zizou or the cinematic soul of The Killing of Eugene Peeps, Con leaned into the spacial freedom he heard in Keb’s lo-fi production cobbled from field recordings and voice notes. Both artists placed their families into the tableau. Con wrote “Little Man” for his son, hoping to add a positive contribution to the canon of parental rap songs. Later, his son appears at the end of “Paramount” to deliver a passage from Kahlil Gibran’s The Prophet. Keb secretly recorded his mum playing saxophone and sampled his cousin playing sax as well. The result is a near-drumless album (save for “Toulouse” and light tapping on “It Would Speak”) in which Keb’s raw production (plus a few sessions with Kofi Flexxx) gave Con a liminal zone, unencumbered by beats per minute, to craft melodies that turn his philosophical rhymes into mantras.

Perhaps there’s a message in the presence of family? It would be one of many. Con and Keb’s reflective, somber approach to Songs For Lost Travellers does not wallow in the mire. Music is action and it’s taking them through a portal to the other side of grief. We are welcome to join (which is also in the fine print of the Agreement Terms), but first there’s a password in the final song, a single request to answer: Tell me what you care about.

Biography by Blake Gillespie
credits

For fans of Mount Kimbie, Damon Albarn, Beach House, King Krule. London based singer-songwriter Rollo Doherty releases his debut EP on Lewis Recordings. Frontman for the indie guitar band ISLAND, his solo work is a radical departure from what fans would previously have known him for. As the title suggests, Rollo began this new DIY project from the tranquility of his own home and drew inspiration from the many small, subtle occurrences happening just on the other side of his bedroom window. 90’s Hip-Hop, Movie Soundtracks and Shoegaze are just a few of several influences explored across this diverse piece of work. ‘Out of My Window’ features some scratching from the infamous DJ Yoda as well as crossing the pond, landing in the hands of Brooklyn based duo The Still Brothers, who provided new life through their brilliant analogue production and arrangements alongside the expertise of producer Mike Hill (Arlo Parks, ISLAND) at Lemontree Studios, L.A. The circle became complete when by chance the LA mastering legends Becker Mastering (Doja Cat, Tyler The Creator, Harry Styles) happened upon the unreleased music when mixing engineer Mike visited their studio and asked to hear his latest work. The EP’s duration serves as a metaphor for a single day, as it spans over approximately the duration of 24 minutes, each representing an hour of the day. Ambient soundscapes are heard in-between each track, all moments captured at corresponding parts of the day on Rollo’s handheld microphone which he poises from his window.

The anticipation is there in Elizabeth Stokes’ solo guitar riff under the opening lines of “I’m Not Getting Excited”: a frenetic, driving force daring a packed Auckland Town Hall to do exactly the opposite of what the track title suggests.

As the opener of The Beths’ Auckland, New Zealand, 2020 expands to include the full band, the crowd screeches and bellows. It’s a collective exhalation, in one of the few countries where live music is still possible.

The album title, and film of the same name, deliberately include the date and location, lead guitarist Jonathan Pearce says. “That’s the sensational part of what we actually did.” In a mid-pandemic world, playing to a heaving, enraptured home crowd feels miraculous.

In March 2020, everything seemed on track for another huge year for The Beths. Home after an 18-month northern hemisphere tour, they had just finished recording sophomore album Jump Rope Gazers and were primed for more extensive touring. But within days, New Zealand’s lockdown split the band between three separate houses. All touring was cancelled.

“It was existentially bad,” Stokes says. As well as worrying about economic survival, they lost something crucial to the band’s identity: live performance. “It's a huge part of how we see ourselves... What does it mean, if we can't play live?”

The band found an outlet through live-streaming, returning to the do-it-yourself mentality of their early days to connect with a global audience. The album and film have their genesis in that urge to share the now-rare experience of a live show, as widely as possible.

The fuzzy-round-the-edges live-streams pointed the way aesthetically. Native birds, wonkily crafted by the band from tissue paper and wire, festoon the venue’s cavernous ceiling while house plants soften and disguise the imposing pipes of an organ. The presence of the film crew isn’t disguised: much of the camerawork is handheld; full of fast zooms and pans.

With much of the material still fresh, the band was less focused on re-invention than playing “a good, fast rock show”, Pearce says. The tempo is up on crowd favourites “Whatever” and “Future Me Hates Me” (released as a live single on its third anniversary) as both band and audience feed off the mutual energy in the room.

Certain songs have taken on special resonance post-Covid. Pearce has found “Out Of Sight”, a tender rumination on long-distance relationships, hits particularly hard with live audiences.

Album closer “River Run” visibly brings Stokes to tears as a mix of achievement and relief kicks in. “You can finally relax at that point … You play the last note, breathe out a sigh and look up - and you’re in a giant room full of people happy and smiling.”

For the last five years, Los Angeles-based musician Noah Weinman has been Runnner, and for much of those five years, Runnner has been working. Working on his 2021 collection album, Always Repeating; working as a producer on the Skullcrusher records; and, of course, working towards his debut full-length, Like Dying Stars, We're Reaching Out. From LA to Ohio and the Northeast and back, he's been deep in the craft of sound. This is music made at home, using anything and everything: cell phones and handheld tape recorders, the hum of an a/c unit, voicemails from friends. Rubbing cardboard together, stretching acoustic sounds out to near liquid, or stacking delay pedals at random to scramble the smoothness of a song can make something known into something unknown –


something ordinary into something cosmic. These are songs where the edges have been left deliberately rough because perfection invites predictability, and imperfection imbalances, and those imbalances ask the listener to listen again, and again.

Not to add to the deluge of artistic clichés brought on by the Global Event Which Shall Not Be Named, but spending more or less a year in the house offers plenty of time for reflection, reevaluation, and revision. Though there was a lot to process already in those months, it was an opportune time to try and get your shit together, whatever that may mean for you. For Jakob Armstrong—in addition to many other things like the rest of us—part of it meant fine- tuning a collection of songs first recorded in late 2019. A prolonged process leading to five of the seven songs on Get Yourself a Friend retooled into their better-than-even final form. Jakob Armstrong—youngest son of Green Day frontman Billie Joe—began playing guitar at seven years old and honed his craft privately until about sixteen, playing in bands in and around Oakland after meeting friends with like-minded tastes in music. Soon enough, with the memories of Ultraman action figures fighting in his mind, he and a group of friends he cultivated from those years playing around and pouring over records, formed Ultra Q (its name inspired by an Ultraman prequel series). Opening double-shot “Pupkin” and “It’s Permanent” soar to the heights of Ultra Q’s powers in much different ways; the former a black-clad romp through a rainy graveyard, the former pushing straight to the clouds with its soaring chorus. “Straight Jacket” veers pleasantly close to the jangle-pop of the Go-Betweens. “Bowman” features guitars like cats getting into a scratch-fight while an astoundingly metronomic drumbeat is played live rather than punched out on a beat pad. Closing the EP is its title track, an affecting end credits anthem full of nostalgia and a twinge of regret. As a whole, Get Yourself a Friend marks the synthesis of a songwriter’s vision and his band’s ability, forged through an invisible existential threat and an ever-changing world, eager to show what they’ve found while we were all inside

The anticipation is there in Elizabeth Stokes’ solo guitar riff under the opening lines of “I’m Not Getting Excited”: a frenetic, driving force daring a packed Auckland Town Hall to do exactly the opposite of what the track title suggests.

As the opener of The Beths’ Auckland, New Zealand, 2020 expands to include the full band, the crowd screeches and bellows. It’s a collective exhalation, in one of the few countries where live music is still possible.

The album title, and film of the same name, deliberately include the date and location, lead guitarist Jonathan Pearce says. “That’s the sensational part of what we actually did.” In a mid-pandemic world, playing to a heaving, enraptured home crowd feels miraculous.

In March 2020, everything seemed on track for another huge year for The Beths. Home after an 18-month northern hemisphere tour, they had just finished recording sophomore album Jump Rope Gazers and were primed for more extensive touring. But within days, New Zealand’s lockdown split the band between three separate houses. All touring was cancelled.

“It was existentially bad,” Stokes says. As well as worrying about economic survival, they lost something crucial to the band’s identity: live performance. “It's a huge part of how we see ourselves... What does it mean, if we can't play live?”

The band found an outlet through live-streaming, returning to the do-it-yourself mentality of their early days to connect with a global audience. The album and film have their genesis in that urge to share the now-rare experience of a live show, as widely as possible.

The fuzzy-round-the-edges live-streams pointed the way aesthetically. Native birds, wonkily crafted by the band from tissue paper and wire, festoon the venue’s cavernous ceiling while house plants soften and disguise the imposing pipes of an organ. The presence of the film crew isn’t disguised: much of the camerawork is handheld; full of fast zooms and pans.

With much of the material still fresh, the band was less focused on re-invention than playing “a good, fast rock show”, Pearce says. The tempo is up on crowd favourites “Whatever” and “Future Me Hates Me” (released as a live single on its third anniversary) as both band and audience feed off the mutual energy in the room.

Certain songs have taken on special resonance post-Covid. Pearce has found “Out Of Sight”, a tender rumination on long-distance relationships, hits particularly hard with live audiences.

Album closer “River Run” visibly brings Stokes to tears as a mix of achievement and relief kicks in. “You can finally relax at that point … You play the last note, breathe out a sigh and look up - and you’re in a giant room full of people happy and smiling.”

Until Now, Jilala has been a much sought-after phantom in relation to their better-known musical and spiritual contemporaries, The Master Musicians of Jajouka. Culled from three and a half hours of 1965 recordings by writers/artists/poets Brion Gysin and Paul Bowles, the first batch of Jilala recordings were released on a 1965 LP that was scarce even upon its initial release. The second batch of Recordings, which this LP has drawn from, came in the form of a CD by Baraka Foundation in 1998, which is also now long out of print. The Jilala brotherhood -- like the better-known Jajouka culture -- has pre-Islamic roots in Sufi mysticism that span across northern Africa from Morocco to India. Jilala shares the kinds of small, portable instruments historically favored by nomadic cultures. Even among the more ardent aficianados of "world music" these recordings have seldom been heard. In the original liner notes Ira Cohen provides a breakdown of the Jilala ensemble: "The instruments used are the shebaba, a long transversal cane flute, which leads the way; the bendir, a handheld drum resembling a tambourine without cymbals; and the karkabat which is a double castanet made of metal. On this record there are usually three flutes, six drums and one pair of castanets." In conjunction with the qraqaba -- an iron analog to the wooden castanets featured heavily in the Flamenco music of the Roma people that also flourished over the centuries mere miles to the north in southern Spain. These bendir drums provide a range very similar to that covered in contemporary popular music by the bass drum, snare, and cymbals that make up standard drum kit. The Trance-inducing grooves were major influences on such bands as Led Zeppelin, Agitation Free, Can and the Rolling Stones. The collective rhythms are often reminiscent early hip hop. oFirst time these tracks appear on vinyl - Pressed on 180 Gram Black Vinyl o Recorded by Brion Gysin & Paul Bowles in Morocco 1965 o Limited Edition of 300 Copies - DMM: Direct Metal Mastering o New Liner Notes by Peter Wetherbee o Contains insert of original liner notes from 1965 Jilala LP o Long out of print in any format for over 20 years.

Limited hand written label 7" is for Indie stores only. On the heels of his debut LP, "How Do I Talk To My Brother?", Ben ventured to the west coast and was welcomed with open arms by fans of his sweet and uplifting soul music. The A-side, a cover "That's The Way It Goes by the Harptones, was recorded on a handheld cassette while performing live at a radio station. The B-side was recorded in Brooklyn upon returning from the tour and thus christening their newly renovated recording studio. So enjoy this unique little 45!
Also Available From Ben Pirani: How Do I Talk To My Brother? LP/CD, Art School Girl 7”, Light Of My Life 7”.

We’ve got something a bit different from usual for our next release: Meeting of Waters by Josiah Steinbrick.

Back in 2017 the unassuming Los Angeles-based multi-instrumentalist and producer released his first collection of solo pieces and we’ve been listening to it compulsively since then. Given that its initial release was only in North America, both on cassette with Leaving records and in an extremely limited vinyl self-release via BANANA editions, we felt that this meticulously crafted, essential work righteously deserved to get a proper spin in Europe too!

The album is composed of what you could call nine sculptural environments, each a mixture of organic sketches and improvisations, recorded rapidly and more or less free of any processing. Each piece is based on up to five simple elements - electronic and/or (tonal) percussions - used to create subtle evolving patterns and harmonies. The sounds explore the wilderness of jazz in a concrete setting, devotional in nature, creating a timeless cartography.

Known for a broad swath of genre-obliterating club tracks on crucial labels including Critical, Exit, and 50Weapons, Sam Binga approached us earlier this year with a radically different kind of project, a collaboration with Welfare, true junglist and label boss at D&B bastion Rua Sound. The result of their team-up is Conamara Fieldworks. Its unique inspiration and patient process are best described by the duo themselves:

"In early November 2016, we set off through the bleakness of an Irish November into the wilderness that is Conamara, County Galway, Ireland, with about half an idea of what we wanted to do. Our friend Laney had been kind enough to allow us the use of a 300 year old cottage overlooking the sea, itself belonging to her family through generations which she was bit by bit restoring to its former glory. The isolation was perfect - very little in the way of creature comforts, no network coverage, but plenty of turf for the stove and Guinness for the belly.

Our routine for the next few days consisted of trudging the length of the rugged coastline in search of interesting sounds we could potentially process into usable elements for some kind of dub/dub techno-inspired composition...This took us inside tidal caves and abandoned ruins, across sheep fields, up and down mountains and winding country lanes, in and out of the odd pub, under upturned boats and (carefully) across huge washes of seaweed-covered shoreline. Using our handheld recorder (shouts Danny Scrilla for the lend) we assembled a palette of varied noises, constantly battling with the peaking and distortion created by the incessant Atlantic gusts.

Each evening, following some intense huddling around the stove and vital Irish home cuisine and stout, we'd examine and dissect what we had collected that day, sometimes discovering the most interesting material firmly planted in the background of the soundscapes. A certain amount of (but not too much) processing later we had the bones of a few short loops of each sound which made some kind of musical sense when played alongside each other.

Binga suggested staying true to the craft and keeping the rawness to the foreground by attempting to develop the loops into full compositions via live desk mixing, arrangement and effects. We said our goodbyes to Conamara and a month or two later said our hellos to the Dubkasm shedio. Following a crash course from the dynamic duo, we set to work for the day, learning as we went along and enjoying to the full the unpredictability, intuition and sheer vibes a dubbing session can bring, particularly in a studio kitted out with some fine analogue gear which undoubtedly helped us to keep that damp, saturated feeling that Conamara had sown."

The resulting collection of music speaks for itself, and does so in its own language. It is meditative, deeply textural, and richly saturated, with awesome sound design, generous bass weight, and dubwise finesse. Referencing ambient, concrete, and dub techno while never letting any genre dictate its path, Conamara Fieldworks is a deeply rewarding and intensely involving listen. A restrained yet transporting remix from the one Ossia completes the set.

Written, performed and produced by Thomas Moen Hermansen @M57 Studios Asker Jan-Sept 2016

Published by Smalltown Supermusic/Sony ATV Scandinavia

Mastered by Schnittstelle , Photos by Ragnhild Fors, Design by Metric Design

After the slightly more conceptual "Principe del Norte"album, "5" takes two steps forward and one step back
collecting a batch of tracks that was recorded right after it's preceder and in tandem with the recent "Square One"album with Bjørn Torske.
A "freedom"album of sorts, beyond the slightly misleading album opener "Here comes the band" there's a variety in these tracks tracing inspiration from 35 years (unhealthy)obsession with all things "good music" played enthusiastically.
"5" also marks the launch of my new label "Prins Thomas Musikk".

A run through the tracks with a couple of hints to titles and inspiration:

"Here comes the band"
A planned album of a fake band consisiting of me only was ditched. This is their only entry...
Very loosely inspired by "Bandwagonesque"era Teenage Fanclub

"Villajoyosa"
Melodic ideas hummed into a handheld recorded and specific notes about instrumentation scribbled down while on holiday in Villajoyosa in Spain turned into this little ditty when back in slightly colder Norway.

"Bronchi Beat"
Made in bed during a rough patch of bronchitis. Heavily influenced by prescription cough medicine.
Orbe from Madrid made a dizzy techno version which comes out soon enough...

""
I find great inspiration in working on new ideas while travelling the skies. Partly inspired by a detour into the soundtrack of my early teens (Paul Hardcastle, Warp 9, Maze, Mtume...)this particular one was started on a bumpy flight home from Athens and later finished in my tiny M57 Studio(R.I.P.)

"Æ"
Another bronchitis-ridden idea. Slow and low is the tempo. Beat originally inspired by Brian Briggs "AEO", melodies beamed in from Wally Badarou.
"Æ"is the norwegian pronounciation of the A in Acid refering to the 303 screeches going through the "song"

"Ø"
By the title you might think I'm running out of ideas. Not sure what happened here and why...

"Lunga Strada"
The track that took me the longest to complete hence the "long road".
Personal favourites The Pilotwings from Lyon sent over 2 ridiculously good and fun remixes which will
be released on a separate 10"

"London til Lisboa"
Another idea made on a plane when I should have tried to catch some sleep.
Direction steered by Plaid and Pat Metheny. Thank you for the inspiration

"Å"
Initially the final track AND then: scrapped idea for the alphabet soup of "Principe del Norte".
Later evolved into what we have here. Comes with a really nice remix by Pional on a separate 12"

"Venter på Torske"
The final recorded addition to the album. Made while waiting for Bjørn Torske to reply on a text message...

"Aske Hermansen"
In all seriousness, this is probably as soppy as it gets with me.
Tears into my computer keyboard, made on the road missing my wife and kids.