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Out on Madrid's leading label for braindance, breakcore, acid, and experimental electronics, it marks a fearless new chapter in electronic music. Amidst a sea of mediocrity and plagiarism, I'm Not Here stands as a testament to the uniqueness of the Cornish Braindance scene, which has given rise to some of the greatest producers in electronic dance music. Here, Benjamin James demonstrates that he is the torchbearer of that legacy, delivering anthems for a world spiraling in self-alienation--where identity flickers between screens and silence.

Mister Water Wet returns to Soda Gong with "Things Gone and Things Here Still," an album that radically expands the project’s purview while preserving the homespun warmth and oblique tactility that have long defined Iggy Romeu’s work. Where earlier records tilted toward the dusty swing of sample-based beatcraft or spectral minimalist jazz, here Romeu opens the frame to a more ensemble-minded approach, inviting a stellar cast of supporting musicians, including SG alumni Memotone and K. Freund, into the fold.

The result is an album that feels both broader and more intimate, with live instrumentation such as piano, strings, and reeds woven into MWW’s signature lattice of hand percussion, production sleights, and slippery time signatures. Acoustic and electronic textures bend toward each other like plants angling for the same light: bowed strings blur into vaporous pads, brushed drums scatter under riffing guitars, a horn phrase lingers in the same space as a cracked cassette loop.

A tension between decay and presence - the “things gone” and the “things here still” - runs throughout the record. At times, the music evokes a chamber session refracted through waterlogged tape; at others, it recalls the afterimage of a hip-hop instrumental slowed into an oneiric haze. In the world of MWW, memory functions less as nostalgia and more as a living fabric - mutable and resonant. "Things Gone and Things Here Still" finds Iggy Romeu at his most expansive, offering up a generous record of open spaces and porous boundaries.

Globale Ikone. Rekordbrecherin. Stimmgewaltige Sängerin. Mit "Here For It All" kehrt Mariah Carey zurück. Das mit Spannung erwartete 16. Studioalbum ist ihr erstes full-length Projekt seit "Caution" aus dem Jahr 2018.

Von den Fans als "MC16" gefeiert, ist "Here For It All" ein mutiges, genreübergreifendes Werk, das alle Epochen von Mariah in die Gegenwart holt. Auf elf Tracks präsentiert sie ihr einzigartiges Spektrum als Sängerin, Songwriterin und Produzentin und verbindet Gospel, R&B, Hip-Hop und Pop mit prächtigen Harmonien, pointierten Texten und dem unverkennbaren Flair, das nur Mariah Carey bieten kann.
Angeführt von der erfolgreichen Single "Type Dangerous", die in die Billboard Hot 100 einstieg und die Spitze der Billboard R&B/Hip-Hop Digital Charts erreichte, ist "Here For It All" mehr als nur ein Comeback. Es ist eine Erinnerung an Mariahs Brillanz und ein kraftvolles neues Kapitel einer der gefeiertsten Künstlerinnen der Musikgeschichte.

Human Leather have always been a ferocious live act, unbelievably loud for a 2 piece. Their gigs are often an overwhelming wall of sludge, howls and amphetamine-addled drums, with spectators flying joyously around the pit. Previous recordings did full justice to the impact of the live show; however, the second helping is something else. On Here Comes the Mind, There Goes the Body the sludge is still present, rising, and lapping at your ankles, but there's a new clarity showing off exactly how f*cking good those riffs are. There are ear worm riffs for days, shout along vocals that roar, shriek and reform into a Greek chorus, drums that thump you repeatedly in the chest and then the whole thing vanishes in just under 30 minutes, leaving you bruised, deafened and with Some Questions about your life. Squint your ears a bit and you'll hear the influences of bands like Karp, Torche and Big Business but they're thrown into a much crustier stew. The lyrics span a variety of political issues, not limited to the landed gentry, global warming and consumerist harbingers of doom. Importantly the songs are also not afraid to discuss class issues (unlike many political bands who you suspect have a much sturdier security net). While this could easily feel preachy, every line is delivered with the knowing wink of the underdog and good humour (I am going to smile every time I think of "clod damn" or "QVC Hands" staring up at me from the lyric sheet), and the vibes are as they've always been in difficult times - "we know we're fucked, tonight we mosh, tomorrow we march". And what is the point of a revolution you can't dance to? Speaking of dancing, the final track features an honest-to-god dance beat, acid squelches and disembodied vocal samples, pointing to an alternative universe in which Human Leather are a heavy electroclash band. Here comes the record of the year, bring what is left of your eardrums. You didn't need that body anyway

Nestled away in the UKs quiet, picturesque east coast town of Ipswich, the lads in Basement are conflicted between the comfort of the beautiful familiar and the allure of escape. This duality pervades the band's existence. As frontman Andrew Fisher's gravelly yowl skips and stretches over driving rhythms and poignant guitar melodies, its clear Basement expertly walk the line between the contrasts of heartrending pop and gruff post-hardcore. When working through a slow-burning mid-tempo or pounding out driving punk, Basement has a quiet layer of jagged desperation weaving songs together under the smooth melodic surface. Much like a coming of age, the songs are toiling, torn and bursting at the seams.

For many bands, having all their gear stolen would be catastrophic. For Third Ear Band, this unfortunate 1968 incident opened a portal to beneficial change. Leader/percussionist Glen Sweeney viewed the heist as a sign to alter Third Ear Band's approach, and they switched to exclusively using acoustic instruments. With electrified psychedelia in full bloom, Sweeney, Paul Minns (oboe, recorder, whistles, flutes) and Richard Coff (violin, viola) struck out on an individualistic path, blending Indian raga with chamber music – without plugging in.

Third Ear Band's 1969 debut album, Alchemy, established them as a solemn, powerful force in the global underground. On Alchemy, Sweeney laid down a steady pulse on hand drums, while Minns and Coff wove in melismatic patterns on oboe, recorder, violin and viola. This approach carried over to Third Ear Band's self-titled sophomore album, often called Elements due to its track titles being named after the four basic components of medieval European alchemists' doctrines.

On this 1970 LP, Third Ear Band sounded at once ancient and contemporary, yet they turned on the hippies with their epic, trance-inducing jams that suggested secret knowledge of infinity. Although Third Ear Band flourished during the West's countercultural zenith, they were peculiarly estranged from it on a sonic level. Even outré contemporaries such as Comus and Jan Dukes De Grey sounded like pop groups compared to TEB. Having no traditional front person or electric instruments, Third Ear Band forged a singular path that flowered most vividly on Elements.

The long songs here stream forth from their skilled hands, evoking a communal transcendence in sound – a hypnotic swirl that doesn't swing, but rather wafts and undulates with cloistered beauty. TEB's music exists in an eternal now, a perpetual wow. It is an ouroboros of organic textures, seemingly magicked into the air spontaneously, yet possessing a rigor that suggests long hours in the lab. Without electricity, it somehow burrowed deeper into your consciousness.

– Dave Segal (excerpt from the liner notes)

With his honeyed falsetto, Horace Andy has long been considered one of roots reggae's most inimitable voices. His signature tune, "Skylarking," is one of a handful of songs that can be instantly recognized by even the most casual of reggae fans. Making his debut with producer and mentor Phil Pratt at the age of sixteen, Andy's expressive vocal style is immediately distinctive, bearing the soulful influence of American artists Otis Redding and Smokey Robinson as well as fellow countryman Alton Ellis.

1975's Get Wise collects a series of singles produced by Pratt including versions of hits "Money, Money" ("Root Of All Evil") and "Zion Gate" ("I Don't Want To Be Outside"). Recorded between 1972 and 1974, these sides were captured at legendary studios Channel One, Black Ark, Dynamic Sound and Randy's Studio 17 with house engineers Ernest Hoo Kim, Lee Perry, Carlton Lee and Errol Thompson at the helm.

Originally released on Pratt's Sunshot label, the album doubles as a showcase for The Soul Syndicate Band, a typically ad-hoc session group which featured Sly & Robbie, Aston "Family Man" Barrett and Earl "Chinna" Smith, among others.

Get Wise delivers ten tracks of Andy's finest material and should be in the collection of any aficionado of the classic '70s Kingston sound. Liner notes by JR Gonne.

Recorded and mixed at Duke Reid's storied Treasure Isle studio by Duke's nephew, young engineer Errol Brown, Dub Expression collects dubbed up treatments of seminal rockers rhythms crafted for Marcia Griffiths, John Holt, Dennis Brown and more.

Propelled by the drums of Lowell "Sly" Dunbar, the appropriately named Revolutionaries (with their tough and radical sound) were the ideal group to reflect a turbulent period in Jamaican politics. While the band's personnel remained fluid – depending on which players were available and frequently overlapping with other seminal sessions bands such as Joe Gibbs' The Professionals and Bunny "Striker" Lee's The Aggrovators – The Revolutionaries were most known as Channel One's house band in the mid to late '70s.

The decision to top-bill The Revolutionaries, rather than feature an individual artist as was customary at the time, was made by Kingston's most celebrated female producer, Sonia Pottinger who shrewdly determined that The Revolutionaries' name alone would be a can't miss selling point. One only needs to spend a minute with Dub Expression to hear why.

Originally released in 1978 on Pottinger's High Note label, Dub Expression represents the essence of dub in its purest form. An absolute classic. Liner notes by JR Gonne.

Vines, the solo project of New York-based multi-instrumentalist and composer Cassie Wieland, offers a window into her inner world through expansive swaths of sound. She pieces together a celestial mix of synths, percussion, strings, and vocoded voice, making music that is at once deeply personal and cinematic in scope. This diaristic approach first took shape with her 2023 EP Birthday Party, and is crystallized on her debut LP, I’ll be here. With the sweeping and vulnerable I’ll be here, Vines arrives fully formed as an artist who crafts deeply resonant and open music–the kind that invites listeners in to listen, reflect, and share in the journey of learning through living.

“It was through making music that I was able to meet myself,” Wieland said. “Anything I’m going through or feeling is something that somebody else out there can relate to, and that’s really special to me.”

I’ll be here is both a culmination of years spent creating gossamer soundscapes and an opening to a new journey for Wieland as an artist. The album grew out of her years as a composer and songwriter, and builds on the language she developed on Birthday Party, which transformed the tumultuous feelings of the passing of time into minimalist meditations. It was just a start, though–a prologue, a development of the kind of language and ideas she wanted to express. With I’ll be here, she digs deeper and writes music that feels more sprawling, further solidifying her singular voice.

Wieland’s musical composition process is similar to journaling, lending itself to the music’s honesty. When she writes, she makes room for all the ideas she has; in these sessions, there are no wrong ideas, and she allows the music to be attuned to the experiences she’s having at the time. With I’ll be here, Wieland zeroes in on themes of anxiety, loneliness, navigating human connection, and having to grow up from a young age, ultimately coming to a place of acceptance. And though it began as a journal written in solitude, her collaborators shape the music with her.

Working with friends, in fact, was a crucial part of bringing the record to life. “Everything that was supposed to happen came together so easily because of the people involved,” Wieland said. I’ll be here was co-produced and recorded with Wieland’s longtime collaborator Mike Tierney, a four time Grammy-nominated engineer who has worked with artists across the contemporary classical and experimental scene like minimalist pioneer Steve Reich, LA’s preeminent classical ensemble Wild Up, and various bands on Bang on a Can’s Cantaloupe Music label. Percussionist and composer Adam Holmes and violinist Adrianne Munden-Dixon are two other longtime collaborators who are frequent fixtures of her live show. Holmes plays synths, drums, and banjo; in live settings, his kit is loaded with elements of the songs that are then triggered by MIDI, making the music an interactive, evolving experience. The album’s gentle, filamented edges are colored by Munden-Dixon, whose poignant string melodies elevate Wieland’s introspective compositions, as well as cellist Helen Newby, saxophonists Julian Velasco and Jordan Lulloff, and bassist Pat Swoboda.

Wieland takes an economic approach to writing music, building the swirling and immersive landscapes of Vines through short melodies, lyrics, and phrases. As each element layers and interweaves, they grow into sprawling webs of ghostly sound. Prior to Vines, Wieland composed pieces for other people to play using a minimalist’s sensibility, writing slowly unfolding melodies for instruments like violin and saxophone. In recent years, she sharpened her solo style across a variety of singles and covers which have garnered significant attention on social media for their emotional resonance (“being loved isn't the same as being understood” in particular went massively viral on TikTok in 2024). Birthday Party, her debut as Vines, brought her writing to a much more intimate space, centering on her vocoded voice cloaked in feathery reverb. A series of recent singles, meanwhile, including “I am my home,” showcase the way that Wieland’s music is born from the story of her innermost feelings, extending far beyond just the self.

Though Wieland’s music often deals with dark themes, it unfolds with tender melancholy, the kind that feels like a warm embrace. On “Evicted,” Wieland wonders if she’s getting sick or moving on, if she’s lost or found. Her vocals expand with each lyrical repetition, as the instrumentals slowly encircle and the music’s rhythm grows and bursts into a heart-wrenching, yet radiant wave reminiscent of post-rock bands like Explosions in the Sky. “Tired” follows a similar trajectory, building from a looping, melancholy rhythm and floating lyrics into a solemn resignation. Elsewhere, Wieland takes a more ruminative approach: “Omw” begins with twinkling piano and melancholy strings that gradually transform into an undulating mass. It is a song born out of the warm feeling of reminiscence, the slight return of hope that comes with nostalgia.

With any searching journey, there is also a point of understanding. The title track closes the album with the freedom of acceptance. A marching drum beats steadily beneath Wieland’s open vocals, moving forward, ever onward as it flies into the ether. In Wieland’s delicately textured music, there is room to come into yourself, and learn to love whomever that is. I’ll be here is a special space that can be all your own, one in which to feel what needs to be felt. “This is music for your story,” Wieland said. “I want you to use it how you need it.”