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“We like all these songs a lot. Dylan's approach to composing and playing involves hybridizing American Primitive, folk, country, soundtrack and avant influences into a unique & powerful alloy. Spinning the record is nothing short of a goddamn trip. Transportational music of the highest order. Get some today.” --Byron Coley “I made the title track a couple years ago at the beginning of summer,” writes Dylan, “I was thinking about how as you get older you have fewer new experiences. That feeling of excitement for summer fades, after it used to be such a big deal as a kid. Those experiences can only be new and vibrant once. The rest of your life can be spent in nostalgia for them. It's a sad thought and maybe not true for everyone, but I suspect it is for most.” The result, No New Summers, is Aycock’s first full length under his own name for almost a decade; it sees him journey through frayed fields of haunted solo-guitar, waves of prairie ambience and hard-won country stillness

Process of Elimination explores sickness as a teacher for anti-capitalist modes of being; a rewilding of the self. The product of an attempt to be indestructible, this sickness has an unknown diagnosis. The only route to determine the indeterminable is via a process of elimination. Eliminate the noise so it may quieten and make space for listening to what whispers underneath, allowing a return to the present moment. Slowness and queerness as technologies, questions as answers and mysticism as a path to healing when science alone does not suffice.

London-based multidisciplinary artist El Hardwick’s sophomore album follows their experience of becoming chronically ill after years of treating their body like a machine. El explains: “After failing to receive a diagnosis, which is only given via a lengthy process of elimination, I instead turned to autonomous modes of healing rooted in mysticism and herbalism; putting aside the need to be defined. My journey towards accepting my disability is told in parallel to my coming-out as trans. I also see my non-binary identity as a process of elimination: I am neither gender, both, in-between. It is through rewilding myself from capitalism and gender normativity that I learn how to connect to my body and the earth; no longer allowing either’s energy to be extracted from. The less I sought answers, language, metrics and analysis, the more peace I found.”

The first solo album from Keith Streng, the legendary guitarist of The Fleshtones, the greatest garage rock band in the world! Featuring 12 tracks that span from psychedelic rock to '70s rock, with a strong garage rock essence. For this special occasion, Keith has invited some prestigious artists to collaborate on the album. Two tracks feature The Limiñanas, with whom he will be sharing the stage as a guest guitarist on all their 2025 tour dates. Several tracks include Peter Buck and Scott McCaughey of R.E.M.. The French scene is also well represented, with the young prodigies Dynamite Shakers on one track and Tony Truant on another. And, of course, longtime collaborators Michael Giblin and Kurt Bloch from his side project The Split Squad. Adding a touch of magic, the Red Chuck Tabernacle Choir brings light to the stunning ballad "More Than Beautiful". Kurt Bloch (Fastbacks / Young Fresh Fellows / Presidents of the USA) also mastered the album. The "most hard-working man" Keith Streng will be on stage in France this June for several dates with his fabulous Fleshtones.

Nach wichtigen Stationen bei Silver Jews und Lambchop hat William Tyler eine Reihe von neugierigen Alben veröffentlicht, die seine ländliche Herkunft und seine Begeisterung für klassische Musik mit seiner Experimentierfreudigkeit und Feldaufnahmen verbinden. Seine produktive Enklave der Instrumentalmusik hat nicht nur neue Klänge hervorgebracht, sondern auch kritische neue Stimmen. Kein anderer amerikanischer Sologitarrist dieses Jahrhunderts hat diese fruchtbare Szene so beeinflusst wie er. Und auf dem brillanten, erfrischenden "Time Indefinite", Tylers erstem Soloalbum seit fünf Jahren, betritt er endlich den immer größer werdenden Raum, den er mit geschaffen hat. Die Gitarre ist der Ausgangspunkt für ein Album, das nicht nur Tyler, sondern auch die Möglichkeiten eines ganzen Bereichs neu überdenken lässt. Ein Strudel aus Lärm und Harmonie, Geistern und Träumen, Angst und Hoffnung - es ist nicht nur eine großartige Gitarrenplatte. Es ist ein atemberaubendes Album eines großen Gitarristen, ein Meisterwerk unserer kollektiv ängstlichen Zeit. Anfang 2020, als die Welt am Rande ungeahnter Unruhen stand, verließ Tyler LA und zog nach Nashville, wo er die meiste Zeit seines Lebens gelebt hatte. Der größte Teil seines Equipments und alle seine Platten blieben zurück, in Erwartung einer vermeintlich schnellen Rückkehr. Das war natürlich nicht der Fall. Während Tyler also mit den Depressionen, den Nerven und den Fragen dieser unendlich angespannten Zeit zu kämpfen hatte, begann er, Ideen mit seinem Telefon und einem Kassettendeck aufzunehmen, wobei er sich mit den Verzerrungen, die diese Geräte mit sich bringen, abfand. Tyler sprach mit Kieran Hebden darüber, eine gemeinsame Platte zu machen, und einige dieser Stücke fühlten sich wie Testfälle an. Als diese Zusammenarbeit in andere Richtungen ging, entdeckte Tyler andere Klänge. Er bat seinen langjährigen Freund, den Produzenten Jake Davis, ihm dabei zu helfen, die Songs zusammenzufügen, und entschied sich dafür, das Rauschen und Wackeln zu akzeptieren und ungewollt eine Platte zu machen, die diese Zeiten und die heutige Zeit widerspiegelt - unruhig, beschädigt, ehrlich. Eine Wippe aus Kampf und Überleben definiert diese Songs, eine Landkarte der Angst und des Glaubens und der Pfade, die sie verbinden. "Dies ist eine Platte über Geisteskrankheiten", wird Tyler ohne Scham sagen, so offen im Leben und in der Sprache, wie er es auf den Aufnahmen ist. "Es ist Musik darüber, den Verstand zu verlieren, aber nicht zu wollen, über den Versuch, zurückzukommen." Das braucht er nicht zu sagen; man spürt es, erkennt es vielleicht aus eigener Erfahrung. Tylers Alben sind ein Nest aus nicht-musikalischen Einflüssen, denn er pendelt zwischen Spiritualität und Philosophie und beschwört die Landschaften der amerikanischen Vorstellungskraft. "Time Indefinite" ist nicht anders, vor allem in der Art und Weise, wie es die sehr persönlichen Filme von Ross McElwee beschwört. Mitte der 80er Jahre begann er, einen Film über Shermans Marsch durch den Süden zu drehen, der sich jedoch zu einer verworrenen Geschichte über Familie, Verlust und das, was wir tun, wenn unsere besten Instinkte sich den schlimmsten Dingen ergeben, die wir uns vorstellen können, entwickelte. Das Album ist eine Anspielung auf diese Idee, auf das unerbittliche Drängen der Zeit und unseren Platz in ihr, unter ihr und neben ihr. Es ist keine große Offenbarung, dass das Leben, das wir führen, die Arbeit prägt, die wir machen, ob wir das nun beabsichtigen oder nicht. In diesen Liedern kann man Tyler hören, wie er laut mit eingehenden Dämonen ringt: Sucht, mittleres Alter, Einsamkeit, Neurosen. Alle unsere Kämpfe sind unterschiedlich, aber wir sind uns darin einig, dass wir sie haben. Dies ist der Soundtrack, den Tyler geschaffen hat.

Nach wichtigen Stationen bei Silver Jews und Lambchop hat William Tyler eine Reihe von neugierigen Alben veröffentlicht, die seine ländliche Herkunft und seine Begeisterung für klassische Musik mit seiner Experimentierfreudigkeit und Feldaufnahmen verbinden. Seine produktive Enklave der Instrumentalmusik hat nicht nur neue Klänge hervorgebracht, sondern auch kritische neue Stimmen. Kein anderer amerikanischer Sologitarrist dieses Jahrhunderts hat diese fruchtbare Szene so beeinflusst wie er. Und auf dem brillanten, erfrischenden "Time Indefinite", Tylers erstem Soloalbum seit fünf Jahren, betritt er endlich den immer größer werdenden Raum, den er mit geschaffen hat. Die Gitarre ist der Ausgangspunkt für ein Album, das nicht nur Tyler, sondern auch die Möglichkeiten eines ganzen Bereichs neu überdenken lässt. Ein Strudel aus Lärm und Harmonie, Geistern und Träumen, Angst und Hoffnung - es ist nicht nur eine großartige Gitarrenplatte. Es ist ein atemberaubendes Album eines großen Gitarristen, ein Meisterwerk unserer kollektiv ängstlichen Zeit. Anfang 2020, als die Welt am Rande ungeahnter Unruhen stand, verließ Tyler LA und zog nach Nashville, wo er die meiste Zeit seines Lebens gelebt hatte. Der größte Teil seines Equipments und alle seine Platten blieben zurück, in Erwartung einer vermeintlich schnellen Rückkehr. Das war natürlich nicht der Fall. Während Tyler also mit den Depressionen, den Nerven und den Fragen dieser unendlich angespannten Zeit zu kämpfen hatte, begann er, Ideen mit seinem Telefon und einem Kassettendeck aufzunehmen, wobei er sich mit den Verzerrungen, die diese Geräte mit sich bringen, abfand. Tyler sprach mit Kieran Hebden darüber, eine gemeinsame Platte zu machen, und einige dieser Stücke fühlten sich wie Testfälle an. Als diese Zusammenarbeit in andere Richtungen ging, entdeckte Tyler andere Klänge. Er bat seinen langjährigen Freund, den Produzenten Jake Davis, ihm dabei zu helfen, die Songs zusammenzufügen, und entschied sich dafür, das Rauschen und Wackeln zu akzeptieren und ungewollt eine Platte zu machen, die diese Zeiten und die heutige Zeit widerspiegelt - unruhig, beschädigt, ehrlich. Eine Wippe aus Kampf und Überleben definiert diese Songs, eine Landkarte der Angst und des Glaubens und der Pfade, die sie verbinden. "Dies ist eine Platte über Geisteskrankheiten", wird Tyler ohne Scham sagen, so offen im Leben und in der Sprache, wie er es auf den Aufnahmen ist. "Es ist Musik darüber, den Verstand zu verlieren, aber nicht zu wollen, über den Versuch, zurückzukommen." Das braucht er nicht zu sagen; man spürt es, erkennt es vielleicht aus eigener Erfahrung. Tylers Alben sind ein Nest aus nicht-musikalischen Einflüssen, denn er pendelt zwischen Spiritualität und Philosophie und beschwört die Landschaften der amerikanischen Vorstellungskraft. "Time Indefinite" ist nicht anders, vor allem in der Art und Weise, wie es die sehr persönlichen Filme von Ross McElwee beschwört. Mitte der 80er Jahre begann er, einen Film über Shermans Marsch durch den Süden zu drehen, der sich jedoch zu einer verworrenen Geschichte über Familie, Verlust und das, was wir tun, wenn unsere besten Instinkte sich den schlimmsten Dingen ergeben, die wir uns vorstellen können, entwickelte. Das Album ist eine Anspielung auf diese Idee, auf das unerbittliche Drängen der Zeit und unseren Platz in ihr, unter ihr und neben ihr. Es ist keine große Offenbarung, dass das Leben, das wir führen, die Arbeit prägt, die wir machen, ob wir das nun beabsichtigen oder nicht. In diesen Liedern kann man Tyler hören, wie er laut mit eingehenden Dämonen ringt: Sucht, mittleres Alter, Einsamkeit, Neurosen. Alle unsere Kämpfe sind unterschiedlich, aber wir sind uns darin einig, dass wir sie haben. Dies ist der Soundtrack, den Tyler geschaffen hat.

"Change Today? is the third studio album by the American rock band T.S.O.L. (True Sounds Of Liberty), released in 1984. It was the band's first album with singer/guitarist Joe Wood and drummer Mitch Dean, replacing founding members Jack Grisham and Todd Barnes who had left the band in late 1983.

The album was recorded using money loaned to T.S.O.L. by the Dead Kennedys, and found the new incarnation of the band moving away from the Hardcore Punk associations of the original lineup in favor of a traditional Rock and Gothic Rock sound. Over the course of four nights at Mad Dog Studio in Venice, California T.S.O.L. recorded their new songs with recording engineer Stuart Schanwetter and producer Chris Grayson. The album was mastered by Eddy Schreyer. Change Today? is available as a limited numbered edition of 1000 copies on white coloured vinyl and it contains an insert"

The Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam Woldemariam at the creative helm, provided the musical backbone for legends like Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, Mulatu Astatke, and Mahmoud Ahmed, including the iconic album Ere Mela Mela, shaping modern Ethiopian music as we know it today. This 1976 album (Ge’ez Year 1968) played a pivotal role in that legacy and has now resurfaced to set the record straight.

There’s a tendency to talk about the seventies as a golden age of Ethiopian music. There are good reasons for that, and just as good reasons against it. However, the notion of a golden past privileges the role of Western explorers and suggests that the pinnacle of Ethiopia’s musical culture is something only a foreigner can appreciate and unearth. It downplays the complexities of Ethiopia’s culture and history, creating an artificial divide between then and now. And it underestimates the constantly evolving sound that has followed.

The legendary musical outfit The Ibex Band, later metamorphosed into The Roha Band, has played a central role in defining the sound of many of the greatest stars on the music scene of Ethiopia from the mid-seventies onwards–but their golden output has never really waned. The story of the origins of the band that provided the musical backbone for greats such as Aster Aweke, Girma Beyene, Tilahun Gessesse, backing the solo career of group member Mahmoud Ahmed as well as backing Mulatu Astatke and many others has yet to be properly told.

Two misconceptions plague the image of Ethiopian music, one is that the music is pure because it is, by some notion, unexploited, the other is that it is all traditional. To begin with, a combination of political changes between the late sixties and the mid-nineties created an environment where only the most dedicated and skilled musicians struggled on and pursued a musical career against fierce odds. The whole Ibex Band, with Giovanni Rico and Selam “Selamino” Seyoum Woldermarian at the creative helm, are arguably the origo of the vibrant scene in the mid-seventies, and the said pair are foremost responsible for not only navigating the band through troubled times, but also modernizing the 6/8 chickchicka rhythm to a contemporary form. Giovanni laid the rhythmic foundation with heavy looped basslines that reinvented traditional melodies as dance music, and with Selamino’s innovative guitar work they influenced scores of musicians from Abegaz Kibrework Shiota to Henock Temesgen. Even Giovanni’s Fender bass and Selamino’s Gibson guitar inspired younger musicians in their choice of instruments. Not only in choice of instruments but also in sound–even as the digital revolution hit Ethiopian music, a lot of popular music still took its cue from the masters from Ibex and Roha.

Ibex emerged out of the ashes of the sixties group the Soul Echos band, adding Giovanni and Selamino to their ranks and taking their cues from a slew of influences, such as Motown and The Beatles, fused with traditional music. A tighter-knit unit than most bands at the time – Ibex has remained six to seven members throughout their whole career, compared to many bands that were as large as fifteen or sixteen men strong when Ibex set out. Their playing has been viciously focused, economical yet heavy. Just a year before the recording sessions of the album in your hands, Giovanni and Selamino made a contribution to the popular musical lexicon of Ethiopia that was simply defining the popular sound: their arrangement and recording of bandmate Mahmoud Ahmed’s solo effort and real commercial breakthrough tune and eponymous album, Ere Mela Mela, from 1975.

Selamino has never limited himself to being an adroit lead guitarist, but has always been a scholar of history, and as such he has probably contributed as much to modern Ethiopian music with his guitar playing and compositions as with a deepened understanding of modern or contemporary – Zemenawi – Ethiopian music. Selamino’s contributions serve as a metaphor for those of the whole band, at one and the same time creating and defining a new, danceable and updated sound anchored in Giovanni’s bass, whilst also elevating the broader scene through their support for others on the scene and on top of that, increasing the understanding of the music.

There is an understandable desire to romanticize the musical heyday Ibex and Roha were at the forefront of, because so much of the output is sorrowfully hard to come by. Ibex creativity was nothing short of ridiculously fierce compared to many of their Western contemporaries. Based on their sheer recorded output alone they could have usurped the title “hardest working in show business” from James Brown, recording more than 250 albums or 2500 songs in the seventies and eighties. Some only surface as cassettes today, others were never given full LP release, and some are simply impossible to find today. In the light of that, it’s nothing short of a miracle that the recording Stereo Instrumental Music from 1976 (Ge’ez Year 1968) has resurfaced. Unearthed in perfect condition on a chrome cassette, this is musical history comes alive–to set the future straight. Stereo Instrumental Music was recorded in collaboration with Karl-Gustav Lundgren, a Swedish national working for the Radio Voice of the Gospel. It took two sessions at the Ras Hotel ballroom in Addis Ababa. The Ibex Band was the first band in Ethiopia to employ a four-track recorder for their recording (the first available in the country, lent by Karl-Gustav). Later the same week, Giovanni and Selamino realized that, lengthwise, the recorded material fell short of what they wished for, so they recorded four more tracks in one more session on a single-track recorder. The Ras Hotel and Ghion Hotel, where the Ibex Band held musical residencies were to Ethiopia in general and Addis Ababa in particular what Motown was to the USA and Detroit a few years earlier – a hotbed of musical creativity and showmanship.

The most astonishing thing about Ethiopian music of the last half century is how tradition and modernity are intertwined. Because of this feature, it’s kind of hard to tell when there ever was or when we are in a “golden age”. So much of music from the past has been criminally neglected, but because of the hardships in the past, it would be an oversimplification to say that said past was a golden age. Probably, the golden age is what we are approaching, because for the first time both the past and future are accessible, and the monumental contributions from before can lay a firm foundation for a thriving music scene today. The Ibex Band stands firmly in the past, present and the future. That, if anything, is golden.

The detailed history of Stereo Instrumental Music is in many ways unique. To begin with, it couldn’t have been recorded earlier (there were no four-track recorders available) and it really couldn’t have been recorded afterwards either, at least not in the years directly following, because of the toll the musical scene took from the unfavorable political climate that followed when the nascent Derg regime and rival groups tried to assert themselves, the musical equipment lent from The Voice of Gospel Radio simply disappeared from Ethiopia when the radio station folded in 1977. Karl-Gustav Lundgren,
the Swedish foreign national who assisted during the recording, worked with the Ethiopian Evangelical Church Mekane Yesus at the time, recalls how they only had about fifteen minutes to get the microphones in place for the recording as to not alert neither the management at Ras Hotel nor the authorities and most importantly, to complete the recording before the curfew came into effect at midnight. In leaping to the opportunity to use previously unavailable equipment to push their sound forward and improvising to meet the logistical challenges, the Ibex Band displayed the very avant-gardism and adaptability that explains their longevity as a band through the years. The recording of Stereo Instrumental Music is from a given time in history, but it sounds as beyond time.
Much of the energy that burst out of the scene that Stereo Instrumental Music came out of dissipated or got sidetracked during the societal changes Ethiopia went through in the 1970s and 80s. Whilst leaders might have professed to be revolutionary, the work ethic of the Ibex Band can truly be described as that. They never called it quits, but adapted, toured extensively abroad in Africa, Europe, and the Middle East, and found ways to work even in the face of the curfew that curtailed a lot of musical life. They even played major arenas in the nineteen eighties, despite said curfew and restrictions. The whole extent of their legacy has never been told, but their music speaks louder than words, so therefore… tune in to the Ibex Band’s Stereo Instrumental Music.

Ugly is the second album released by the New York alternative metal band Life of Agony. Produced by Steve Thompson, the album signalled a considerable shift from the hardcore and groove metal sounds which defined their 1993 debut album. The band ditched the gang vocals and instead let Keith (now Mina) display his newly developed crooning. Keith's new expressive style sounds more emotive and is perhaps more at heart with the era's alternative bands and it suits UGLY perfectly.

Musically, this album is a pretty interesting hybrid. The first half of the album opener "Seasons" shows Keith's vocals glide quietly over the top, only to break into higher notes more frequently as the song progresses into the soaring second half. This opening track is a strong introduction to the bands new sound.

The album also features the band's trademark pulverizing riffs as heard in "I Regret", "Damned If I Do" and "Fears", the gang vocals and double-kick drumming has been completely omitted. Songs like "Lost At 22," and "How It Would Be" all feel profound. "Drained" shows the serious hooks and "Let's Pretend" is a ballad written to Keith's mother who died shortly after his birth. The album ends with a rendition of Simple Minds' "Don't You Forget About Me" that arguably kicked off the trend of Roadrunner bands doing novelty covers.

It unquestionably belongs in the collection of anyone who has a love for quality 90s-era alternative rock music. The uglier the better!

H.D. Reliquary is the first eponymous release from Ben Shirken a.k.a. Ex Wiish, and finds him returning home to his own label, 29 Speedway. The songs sparked during sessions with close collaborators - across 11 pieces, artists such as Pavel Milyakov, MIZU, Dorothy Carlos, Kevin Eichenberger and Muein breathe personality into the record. H.D.R. coaxes beauty from a serrated, raw, yet subdued palette drawn from improvised recordings of trumpet, violin, upright bass, cello, and modular synthesis.

The title references the hard drive as a sacred container for relics, contemplating how digitally archived fragments of one’s existence can burn eternally after death. Archives, and in this case recordings, splinter and warp. Some distort what they contain. Some vanish, and others are eternally preserved, immune to deletion. Your information on these digital drives becomes archival shrapnel, the music that survives the remnants of collaboration. Pieces of recordings were fed into a series of proprietary neural networks, generating MIDI information and audio that reacted to on-the-fly soloing, imaginary sessions between players and algorithms invented posthumously (in post).

Shirken will release H.D. Reliquary alongside a sound installation on April 11. Where his prior work was geared towards dissociation, H.D. Reliquary invites us to contemplate how our tools for understanding and containing the world fundamentally alter our relationship with it. He has performed in spaces such as The New Museum, Pioneer Works, Public Records and Nowadays in New York City; Dripping Music And Arts Festival in New Jersey; La Station in Paris; and Cafe Oto in London.

Cold Specks kehrt mit ihrem vierten Album 'Light for the Midnight' zurück.

Nach den Erfolgen ihrer ersten drei Alben 'I Predict a Graceful Expulsion' (2012), 'Neuroplasticity' (2014) und 'Fool's Paradise' (2017) hat Cold Specks (Al Spx) ihren Ruf als einzigartige Stimme der modernen Musik gefestigt. Von ihrer fesselnden Acapella-Performance bei Later... with Jools Holland bis hin zu Kollaborationen mit Moby, Massive Attack und Michael Gira von Swans hat Cold Specks immer wieder Kunstwerke geschaffen, die nachhallen.

Mit 'Light for the Midnight' begibt sie sich auf ihre bisher persönlichste Reise. In seinem Kern ist das Album eine rohe und zutiefst emotionale Reflexion über Ausdauer, Überleben und Transformation. Es ist eine Sammlung von inbrünstigen Balladen und atmosphärischen Popsongs, die Spx' gefühlvolle Stimme in weitläufige Klangwelten kanalisiert.

Das Album entstand in einer herausfordernden Phase in Spx' Leben. Die Arbeit begann 2019 inmitten von Kämpfen mit der psychischen Gesundheit, Erfahrungen, die tief in die Musik eingebettet sind. Doch trotz seiner persönlichen Ursprünge betont Spx seine Universalität: „Ich wollte auf jeden Fall über die letzten Jahre reflektieren, weil sie mich so sehr beeinflusst haben, aber ich wollte auch, dass das Publikum mit diesem Album weggeht. Die Songs gehören ihnen, sobald ich sie veröffentlicht habe.“

Das Album wurde in Toronto und Bristol aufgenommen, wobei Spx zusammen mit Adrian Utley von Portishead und Ali Chant (bekannt für seine Arbeit mit Perfume Genius, Dry Cleaning und Aldous Harding) als Co-Produzent fungierte. Es enthält Streicherarrangements von Owen Pallett (Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey, Sampha) und zusätzliche Beiträge von Graham Walsh von Holy Fuck. Spx arbeitete auch mit einer Reihe von hervorragenden Kollaborateuren zusammen, darunter Chantal Kreviazuk (Drake, Kendrick Lamar), Malcolm Middleton von Arab Strap, Ben Christophers, Ed Harcourt und Jonathan Quarmby.

'Light for the Midnight' zeigt Cold Specks von ihrer verletzlichsten und kraftvollsten Seite, indem sie die Geschichten ihres Kampfes in atemberaubende Kompositionen verwebt, die einen tiefen Eindruck hinterlassen. Es ist ein Album der Hoffnung und der Transformation.

Repress!

Echospace Detroit is the label launched by Rod Modell (Deepchord) and Soultek's Steven Hitchell, two leading lights of the minimal dub techno scene. And as with anything Deepchord, the entire release has an air of mystery to it. Previously, as a near-mythical vinyl pressing with minimal packaging and restricted pressings, everything about Vantage Isle was geared toward the underground, or 'those who know.' However, there's nothing but love of craft driving these grooves, and now a lot more people will finally be able to hear this absolutely brilliant collection of spacial dub wonder on CD. Vantage Isle Sessions consists of a whopping 13 takes of the title track, reworked by Modell and Hitchell in various guises (cv313, Deepchord, Echospace, Spacecho), as well as a guest spot (and first ever remix) from Gerard Hanson (Convextion). Across their 13 versions, Modell and Hitchell manage to take the Deepchord template (analog synths, deep bass, gently throbbing beats, bursts of static and noise, and deep, deep chords) into a surprising variety of directions, akin to looking at the same giant glacier from a helicopter from every angle possible: some are beatless and undulating, some are pulsing and dynamic, some are looking up from under the ice and some are towering overhead. The aforementioned Convextion version is revelatory. It's built on cascading and echoing pieces of the original that are layered like shifting sands, for a distinctly dark and shimmering journey to the bottom of the frozen ocean and back. It's remarkable enough to get all these takes on one basic template to sound somewhat different, given that the source material is really just a skeletal array of sound sheets. Vantage Isle Sessions is for anyone looking for the logical successors to the Basic Channel throne, or just looking for something mellow for those steamy late summer nights. A stone-cold classic of the genre. Don't miss it." -Todd Hutlock, Stylus Magazine/Beatz by the Pound

"Steeped in mystery, Detroit musicians Rod Modell and Mike Schommer (aka Deepchord) are legendary for their hard to find twelve-inch dub techno releases. Their sound is heavily influenced by Berlin dub techno producers like Maurizio, Basic Channel, Chain Reaction, Rhythm & Sound, Blue Train and Pole. While the German sound often has a futuristic metallic edge, Deepchord are known more for the rust and grease, which is part and parcel of those metal parts. Static, analog sounds, deep bass thumps and, of course, deep chords blend in a timeless minimal manner. However, the real gems on this disc are the drifty ambient cuts devoid of beats. This is an excellent album that is on par with the classics from a decade ago!" -Exclaim


"In terms of ambient dub, if Basic Channel is the Father (the source, remote and inaccessible and very powerful) and Pole is the Son (dazzling but ultimately stranded halfway between man and the divine), than Rod Modell’s Deepchord and his Echospace label he run with Steve Hitchell is definitely the Holy Spirit." -Popmatters


"Deepchord’s dub-techno stealthily peels away melody, leaving a bare chassis of beats to ghost-ride down Woodward Avenue. Vantage Isle Sessions, which collects remixes of a 2002 Detroit Electronic Music Festival performance, finds the duo swerving through empty, neon-smeared streets, and recalls Berlin’s Chain Reaction label, minus the anemic minimalism." -XLR8R

"The album scales a magnificent peak in “Spacecho Dub II - Extended Mix” when smeary chords ricochet over a massively deep, bass-heavy pulse, and Hanson's light-speed missile of vaporous propulsion (“Convextion Remix”) is beautiful too.
Long may they run." -Textura

‘Vantage Isle’ is a tremendous achievement that will most likely be held up as a high water mark of the genre for years to come." -Resident Advisor

"My favorite mix is by Convextion (his first remix for another artist). Reedy, distant synth tones sound like a science fiction soundtrack overheard rooms away. An undercurrent of echoes, many difficult to describe, drift in a sonic syrup." -Gridface

"Modell’s music always seems to be in this suspended animation, adrift and afloat in a majestic emptiness." -Dusted Mag

CREDITS:
Written & Produced by Deepchord. Redesigned and Reshaped by Convextion (Gerard Hanson) cv313 (Stephen Hitchell) echospace / spacecho (Rod Modell + Stephen Hitchell)
Additional Mastering, Mixing and Engineering by Ron Murphy @ NSC Mastering, Detroit, USA. Side E/F Remastering and Lacquer cutting by Dietrich @ Complete, NYC, USA. (2018)

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Produziert von Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Mannequin Pussy, etc.), der auch schon an der 2023er "Psychic Dance Routine" EP der Hardcore-Band Scowl aus Santa Cruz mitgewirkt hat, findet man auf "Are We All Angels" die giftige und antagonistische Band, die ihre Aggression durch eine expansivere Version ihrer selbst leitet. Das Album wurde von Rich Costey (Fiona Apple, My Chemical Romance, Vampire Weekend, etc.) gemischt. "Are We All Angels" ist geprägt von Entfremdung, Trauer und Kontrollverlust, und setzt sich größtenteils mit ihrem neu gefundenen Platz in der Hardcore-Szene auseinander, einer Gemeinschaft, die die Band in den letzten Jahren sowohl umarmt als auch zu einer Art Blitzableiter gemacht hat. Auf "Are We All Angels" erkunden Scowl auf Schritt und Tritt ehrgeizige neue Richtungen und verbiegen Genre-Normen. Sängerin Kat Moss macht die am unmittelbarsten erkennbare Entwicklung, indem sie einen strukturierteren und manchmal zarten Ansatz wählt. Sie spielt mit Harmonien und melodischem Feingefühl, das selbst die eingefleischtesten Scowl-Fans überraschen dürfte. Moss nennt eine breite Palette von Einflüssen außerhalb des harten Rock - alles von Billie Eilish bis Radiohead, Car Seat Headrest bis Julien Baker. "Die meisten von uns waren wirklich keine geübten Musiker, als die Band begann", gibt sie zu. "Es war in dieser Hinsicht sehr Germs-esque, wie die erste Hardcore-Band eines Babys, was großartig ist. Jetzt wissen wir vielleicht immer noch nicht, was wir tun, aber wir haben eine bessere Vorstellung davon, was wir tun wollen." Instrumental gibt die Band Einflüsse von Negative Approach, Bad Brains, Hole, Mudhoney, Garbage, Ramones, Pixies, Sonic Youth, Rocket From The Crypt und anderen an. Bassist Bailey Lupo merkt an: "Das Songwriting für die neue Platte war das bisher kollaborativste in der Geschichte von Scowl. Jeder hat so viele Ideen eingebracht, und wir konnten sie alle in Ruhe analysieren und uns Zeit nehmen. Wir haben alle so unterschiedliche Geschmäcker, Einflüsse und Persönlichkeiten, und das kann man auf diesem Album wirklich in jeder Ecke hören." Selbst durch diesen eklektischen Ansatz verlieren Scowl nichts von ihrer Schärfe und schaffen es immer noch, die Wut und Frustration zu vermitteln, die dahinter steckt. Sie sind zutiefst dem Ethos des Punk und seinem Gemeinschaftssinn verpflichtet. "Hardcore und Punk haben uns geprägt, wie wir arbeiten, was wir als Band tun wollen und wie wir uns beteiligen", sagt Greene. "Im Kern sind wir eine Punk- und Hardcore-Band, unabhängig davon, wie sich der Song verändert." Das Album wird von dem bereits veröffentlichten "Special" eröffnet, einen Song mit großer, hymnischer Energie, der die rohe Intensität von Scowl beibehält. Scowl haben sich schnell als einer der dynamischsten und fleißigsten Acts in der Rockszene etabliert und ausgiebig in den USA und international mit Bands wie Limp Bizkit, Destroy Boys, The Bronx, Militarie Gun, Show Me The Body, Zulu, Touche Amore, A Day To Remember, Speed, Sunami und vielen anderen getourt, sowie Festivalauftritte beim Coachella, Reading & Leeds, No Values, Outbreak, Primavera und Sick New World, um nur einige zu nennen, absolviert. Die Band - Malachi Greene (Gitarre), Bailey Lupo (Bass), Cole Gilbert (Schlagzeug), Mikey Bifolco (Gitarre) und Kat Moss (Gesang) - gründete sich 2019 und feierte 2021 mit ihrem Debütalbum "How Flowers Grow" ihren Durchbruch. Seitdem sind sie unaufhaltsam auf dem Vormarsch.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

“On course towards future raucous, beer-soaked headline festival
sets.” - NME
“Screw-you power, relentless motorik rhythms and impressively large
choruses.” - The Guardian
“Unrelenting, gritty energy” - Daily Star
Sprints unearth their frenzied new EP, ‘Manifesto’, out via Nice Swan
Records.
Produced by Daniel Fox of Girl Band - Dublin’s answer to Steve Albini
- the four tracks make for a hard-hitting gloom-punk journey you
can’t miss. Like the Irish guitar acts who have paved the way for
them - Fontaines D.C., Silverbacks and Girl Band - Sprints sound
urgent and vital at every turn.
‘Swimming’ is a confluence of rabble-rousing stadium rock, sleazy
garage rock and Sonic Youth experimentation. Lyrically, there’s a lot
to hang on to too, which is unsurprising given how topical the band
are: ‘Drones’ took on imposter syndrome; ‘Manifesto’ tackled
homophobia.
‘Swimming’ scorns on the increasing lack of opportunity after
following prescribed paths to become society’s idea of a ‘success’.
Sprints singer Karla Chubb explains: “While the homeless crisis
worsens, the city is sinking in debt and everyone can barely keep
their heads above water, you see an article stating that a new €25
million white water rafting centre is being developed after approval
by Dublin City Council. Sometimes you’d just rather drown.”
Sprints have hit a nerve. The velocity of this argument comes from
personal anguish but will chime with a generation. And with such
honesty running through their core it’s no wonder The Guardian,
NME and BBC Radio 1 and 6Music have tipped them for big things.
Tourdates - October 7 Roisin Dubh Galway, 8 Kasbah Limerick, 9 The
Grand Social Dublin, 21 The Waiting Room London, 23 Heartbreakers
Southampton, 26 Sneaky Pete’s Edinburgh, 27 The Attic Glasgow, 28 The
Castle Manchester, 30 The Sunflower Lounge Birmingham, 31 Bootleg Social
Blackpool, November 2 Surf Cafe Newcastle, 3 Sidney & Matilda Sheffield, 6
Mutations Festival Brighton, 7 Festival of Voice Cardiff, 9 The Shipping
Forecast Liverpool, 10 Oporto Leeds.

Donato Basile AKA DJ Plant Texture always wants his music to tell a story, and with his debut EP on Tresor Records, entitled Life, he’s now trying to tell the biggest story there is. According to the artist, “Life is about the fear of growing up”; both the anxiety itself and acknowledging and moving past it.
This narrative seems to have struck a chord with those who have heard the track, “People want to reflect themselves in the music; something personal. Lots of people have been in touch after hearing it; I guess they feel something melancholic in it. Personally, I imagine the track is like the life of a person; going from being born through childhood and youth and onwards, so perhaps they hear this?”
Having used an MPC since the early 2000s, Basile feels an intuitive connection to the hardware he uses, and so the creative process is very spontaneous: “I know where everything is so the music is made immediately. I make everything in the first ten minutes; after that if it’s not right then I just abandon it and start something else.” This immediacy, and familiarity with his equipment is apparent on the A-side, where Basile’s previous life as a drummer comes to the fore and tracks like Cycles and Ripetivo display his native understanding of groove but also how to stir things up - the three A-side tracks find classic techno rhythms seemingly falling apart only to snap back into place even stronger. The B-side finds Donato exploring more of his melodic side with WTT and the aforementioned title track showing Plant Texture’s love of breakbeat and classic techno.
The three digital bonus tracks continue this exploration of melody and syncopated beats - The EXP Days echos the wistful feeling of Life, as Basile meditates on the times spent at EXP, his record shop in Bari, which functioned as a meeting place for electronic producers in the area.

Hüma Utku returns to Editions Mego with her new album. The title Dracones makes reference to the mediaeval latin term "Hic sunt dracones" (Here be dragons), marking the unexplored, dangerous places on world maps, expressing the fear of chaos, the unexpected and the unknown.

This new work by the Istanbul sound artist is a sonic journal of an expedition into uncharted territory, one which occupies self and domesticity. Inspired by Utku’s experience of matrescence, Dracones explores the themes of familial demonology, metamorphosis and homecoming as well as human relationship to the experience of love woven layers of euphoria, alienation and consumption.

Musically, Dracones traverses a wide array of sonic tools whereby industrial sounds are imbedded with certain psychological angles, this is an album where, all matter meshes into a sly snapshot of the human experience with a tension and release exposure occurring frequently with dark corners opening up to bright layers of electronic experimentation.

The haunting opening track ‘A World Between Worlds’ tackles pregnancy, of which Utku was experiencing when making this record. The emotional, physical, spiritual and mental experience of this journey is all documented here.. This track features the ‘Lyraei’, an electromagnetic string instrument and modern interpretation of the ancient lyre, that was built and played by Mihalis Shammas. ‘Comfort of The Shadows’ moves from within to without, what was once hidden is now exposed. Utku’s ability to conjure the visual in the sonic is at the forefront as howling electronics give a distinct impression of movement. ‘A Familial Curse’ presents a desire to break the cycle of generational trauma with a creeping sense of dread that rolls into an industrial rhythm prior to landing in a beautiful place represented with shimmering guitar tones. ‘Here be Dragons’ is a rich and dark evocation, a spooked surrender to the themes of the record whereby Utku’s wildly distorted voice beckons all manner of phantasmagoria over cello and recordings of her ultrasound. ‘Care in Consume’ engages in further sonic exploration as a means of conjuring ‘matriphagy’, with its unique psychic energy coursing through electronic veins. ‘A House within a House’ could also be read as a body within a body as the pulse of ultrasound audio rattle amongst a cage of thudding rhythms and swirling electronics, one also ending in optimism as an exquisite melody is born from the prior fire. The striking journey ends with the more soothing ‘Ayaz’a’, a track embracing love and all the hardships that a period of fundamental metamorphosis brings, this is a heartfelt dedication to her son and concludes an album draped in life, experience, joy and pain.

Dracones is a deeply visual journey through inner and outer worlds, a space where symbolic evocation is supreme and passive listening is not an option.

All tracks composed,performed and recorded by Hüma Utku
Buchla 100, vocals, cello, electric guitar performed by Hüma Utku
‘’A World Between Worlds’’ features the ‘Lyraei’ built, played and recorded by Mihalis Shammas
Buchla 100 recorded in EMS Stockholm 2022-2023

Mixed by Enyang Urbiks
Mastered by Heba Kadry, NYC
Cover Artwork by Marco Ciceri
Design by Tina Frank