Search:hum

DIESECT fearlessly navigates the turbulent realms of both internal struggles and external chaos, refusing to sugarcoat the complexities of life. From humble beginnings as Brisbane locals to their current status as national contenders, DIESECT has garnered over 2 million streams across various platforms all by themselves, showcasing their undeniable appeal to a growing audience. They've toured across the nation selling out their own shows and supporting the likes of Fit For A King (US), ERRA (US), Silent Planet (US), Currents (US), August Burns Red (US), While She Sleeps (UK), Spite (US), To The Grave and more.

How do we listen when we know the human is absent? Neue Deutsche Kunst present a collection of music created for their own films, from Bubblegum Pop (literally - the first track is about Kaugummi), Dada Chanson, sugary Psychedelia, Cartoon Prog, Fake Jazz - documenting a period of Unheimlichkeit in the technological development of humankind. The music was neither composed nor recorded, no soundwaves were moved, no microphones abused. Absurd lyrics speak of non-reality, LSD, violence and revolution in a flowery almost-German non-poetry. Three songs are sung in a non-existing speculative language. It literally is Keine Nichtmusik - or is it?

Born in Casablanca, Oum is a talented songwriter and melodist, whose songs are deeply rooted in the complex rhythms that can be found in Moroccan traditional music. Over the years, she has crafted a unique signature, with songs infused with sensual themes, carried by a voice that is both powerful and warm. While she sometimes borrows from jazz, soul or trance music, Oum defies categorization. Her music is that of a singular, free and universal artist.

A dedicated artist, Oum champions freedom, the rights of women and minorities, as well as an ecological and humanist vision of the world. As a UNAIDS Goodwill Ambassador, she makes her art a space of resistance and sharing, where spirituality and poetry rise as a life force. With Dialddar ("homemade"), Oum takes on a radical approach: composing an album without strings or wind instruments, relying solely on voice and percussion. A choice that constitutes both a technical challenge and an artistic manifesto. The percussions used are mostly handcrafted in Marrakech. Their tuning, sensitive to variations in temperature and humidity, make each recording fragile, vibrant, and unpredictable. It is precisely this organic dimension that Oum wanted to preserve: music that breathes, escapes control, and finds its true expression in the moment. With Dialddar, Oum continues her quest for a universal, rooted, and visionary music that invites a sensitive listening to the world. TER004 - CD comes with a 44 page book.

Volcanic Sun Vinyl, limited to 500 copies. The Berlin-based power trio once more is driving their musical WEDGE in between many different genres: Garage rock turns progressive while psychedelic guitar lines are tripping over hard rocking riffs. Does this work together? Hell yes! For fans of Deep Purple, MC5, Led Zeppelin or Humble Pie this album is a sure shot. You like fuzz guitars? Hammond organ and vocals trough a swirling Leslie cabinet? More cowbell? You got it. But unlike our beloved rock records from around 1971, which we've heard a hundred times before "Like No Tomorrow" has one huge advantage: It's brand new and the 8 tracks, ranging from 3:00 to 9:00 minutes, deliver a fresh, unspent and unmistakably unique taste to the rock'n'roll menu. In the tradition of bands like The Raconteurs, The Hellacopters, Graveyard or Wolfmother, WEDGE are building on that vintage vibe we all know and love but evolve their very own thing and are able to connect it directly to here and now.

The Final album by Music Legend Brian James ( Founder member and songwriter of both The Damned & Lords of the New Church and writer of the first British Punk single New Rose ) who sadly passed away earlier this year.
Brian was awarded The Pioneer award for lifetime achievements by Uk rock magazine Vive Le Rock last year and his song New Rose was voted best punk single of all time this year in the same magazine . Limited pressing on Yellow Vinyl with printed inner sleeves. Cover art by Graham Humphries famous for his horror poster artwork Evil Dead / …as well as designing Lp covers for Brian and Lords of the new church. Guest Vocalists include Dirty Al from the Dirty Strangers and Ramona from the Mo-Dettes
• Reviews in Record Collector , Vive le Rock , R2 & Shindig already confirmed

Back on vinyl for the first time since 2015! New remastered version with alternative cover art. Unlike all DJ Yoda’s artist albums, ‘Breakfast Of Champions’ features the same collaborators on every track effectively putting together a band. The genesis of the project was in Manchester, where the legendary Band On The Wall venue asked him to host an artistic residency. He put a call out for local musicians, did auditions, and selected three rappers. Two were local to Manchester - Truthos Mufasa and Sparkz. They were local legends making up parts of The Mouse Outfit and LVLZ. And the third was Rex Domino from down south, who was a British MC who Yoda thought would gel well with the other guys. They wrote, rehearsed and recorded intensively in Manchester - performed a memorable series of live shows (including an epic Glastonbury show), and Yoda put the finishing touches to the album back in London after the fact. “It was such an enjoyable experience” says Yoda. “Lifelong friendships were made, and most excitingly two of the band members got together (James Breen, drummer, and Claire Northey, violinist) and had two kids! So there are Breakfast of Champions humans out there too!”

This new pressing features alternative artwork that was never used at the time of the album’s original release.

White Elephant announce their debut album "World Elephant Day", the sound of time, trust and total freedom. A project forged over ten years in Crazy P"s Nottingham studio, blending dancefloor DNA with intimate musicianship. White Elephant began as a no-agenda weekend in Crazy P"s Nottingham studio, where Chris "Hot Toddy" Todd, Jim "Ron Basejam" Baron and Ben "BJ" Smith discovered an effortless musical union. Over the next decade, their collaboration slowly evolved into a debut album shaped by warmth, trust and lived experience rather than deadlines. Blending Crazy P"s dancefloor DNA with tender musicianship, the record moves between glowing disco grooves, 80s-bright sparkling pulses and intimate acoustic moments. It"s reflective without being nostalgic, playful yet deeply human. White Elephant is three friends rediscovering the joy of making music simply because it feels good.

Un-easy listening from »anti-singer« and improviser Sofia Jernberg, a celebration of the voice in its rawest, most malleable form. Jernberg was born in Ethiopia and grew up in Vietnam and Sweden, so one can only imagine these diverse languages opened up a wealth of phonetic possibilities before she entered academia to study jazz and composition. If you dive into her catalogue you’ll clock her startling range – working as a jazz soprano and as an improviser, collaborating with everyone from Stefan Schneider to Mats Gustafsson, as well as appearances on the stage and screen, most notably in Matthew Barney, Erna Ómarsdóttir, and Valdimar Jóhannsson’s »Union of the North«.

On »Voice«, Jernberg provides a ground-level entry point to her work, meticulously running through a litany of unconventional techniques (non-verbal vocalisation, split tones, toneless singing, and distortion) without any effects, just pure batshit sonics designed to show off the voice’s scope as an experimental instrument. On »Mouth Synthesizer« she purses her lips to make ratcheting pops like some analog oscillator, hoarsely mimicking the sort of blustery, Merzbow-coded distortions you might get if you patched a RAT pedal into a broken guitar amp. It isn’t an act of caricature, it’s Jernberg’s way of demonstrating that expensive modular rigs aren’t an essential tool for experimental music, before throwing a side-eye to the field recording industrial complex on »Birds«, transforming her vocal chords into a nightmare aviary. But it’s Jernberg’s startling »multiphonic« experiments that hit hardest. The album opens on »Multiphonic I«, and it’s difficult to tell that you’re listening to a human voice at first – you could just as well be on Colin Stetson’s overblown sax airstreams. Jernberg creates a captivating spiral of crooked, phased tones and hoarse, guttural croaks that she develops over three movements. On »Multiphonic II«, her voice is turned into a storm of pained shrieks, and on the third and final segment, it almost resembles Arve Henriksen or Jon Hassell’s muted brass curlicues. Each track pulls a different musical muscle, whether it’s »One Pitch« with its unsettling yodel-like quivering drones or »Gurgle«, sounding like a close mic-ed recording of a small pot gently simmering.

At the start of this summer, following a three-year hiatus for Daphni (punctuated only by his first ever collaborative Daphni track ‘Unidos’ alongside Sofia Kourtesis), he dropped ‘Sad Piano House’. The track represented something of a continuation in the Daphni catalogue, its roots growing from Cherry’s ‘Cloudy’ and its subsequent Kelbin remix, something in that song’s makeup having a profound effect when played on dancefloors by Snaith and countless others. ‘Sad Piano House’ deployed more intangibly irresistible bendy piano to equally satisfying effect and continues to achieve similarly rhapsodic dancefloor saturation.
Though a sizeable gap for Daphni releases, between Cherry and Butterfly however of course sits Honey, the latest Caribou album and one that saw the more instantaneous and dancefloor leaning traits of Daphni peaking through the cracks more than ever before. This blurring of the lines leads to an intriguing collaboration in Butterfly’s lead single ‘Waiting So Long (feat. Caribou)’. An unlikely duo - in that both artists are the same man, Dan Snaith - ‘Waiting So Long’ is not so much an identity crisis, ego trip, or the result of a chemical spill in the Snaith laboratory. It’s simply a track that Snaith felt for the first time belongs to both aliases, and might appeal to fans of both. He has never sung on a Daphni track before, and did not set out with the intention to do so this time, and yet this strange billing was born.

Daphni music has always been Snaith’s way of hitting directly to the core of the dancefloors he spends so much of his time playing to, and those dancefloors have been steadily expanding as his name grows, with the music following suit. This album however also draws from further back with a definite kinship to the very first Daphni album, the invigorating bag of ideas that was Jiaolong.
Butterfly is a showcase of the wonderful variety and surprising twists and turns that made that album such an exciting new prospect and that still to this day make Snaith such an intriguing DJ. There are more heavy hitters here, tracks that fill those dancefloors better than anyone, like ‘Clap Your Hands’ which picks up the energy of ‘Sad Piano House’ and flips it, exposing the gritty and intoxicating underbelly of Snaith’s hitmaking side, while retaining the playful urgency that runs through all of his work of late. Meanwhile ‘Hang’’s comic-strip horns are unpinned by gleeful force, unrelenting and thrillingly unshakeable. Elsewhere though comes a clutch of other tunes that might creep out somewhere more off the beaten path, a path Snaith has never stopped seeking in amongst his larger billings. ‘Lucky’ is squirmy and elusively intoxicating, ‘Invention’ skitters down meandering, inviting corridors, ‘Talk To Me’ grumbles and broods in the murk, and ‘Miles Smiles’ could roll on endlessly, so confident in its groove. There are no obvious peaks in these tracks or unifying moments, in fact many of them really have no business being on the dancefloor at all, and yet in the right setting, they could be the most fun to be had all night.

One such club is a good microcosm for the ethos of Butterfly as a whole. “Around the time I was finishing up this album I played a long set in a club called Open Ground in Wuppertal, Germany.” Snaith recalls, “It’s kind of, in one sense, the platonic ideal of the kind of club I’d want to play in. Every single decision has been taken, at great expense, with the aim of making the perfect sounding medium sized club room. But on top of it being the perfect acoustic environment it also is run by an amazing collection of people in a way that gives it a sense of community that dance music at its best provides. It is an absolute pleasure to play in that room to a crowd of people who come from all over. Playing in there you feel like you can play anything, and I played works in progress of pretty much every track on this album in my set there. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing a short set at a festival or in a more raw warehouse kind of club where you bang it out and only really functional music works but on record I guess the point of these Daphni records is to keep in mind a more expansive idea of dance music where the parameters are broad and the church is broad. I think that actually, putting really functional stuff next to weirder tracks (both on an album and in a dj set) might be the thing that’s still most interesting to me.”
This is the feeling that’s most palpable on Butterfly, and in every single time you see Snaith DJ. Right from the inception of the Daphni alias - and even before that – the thrill of trying stuff out, pushing at the boundaries has always been there and on Butterfly is present in all its twists and turns. It leaps all over the place and yet it hangs together, never feeling like a grab bag of dancefloor utilities but rather a distillation of all the strings to Snaith’s bow, exhilaratingly human and unified by one singular concept – simple and joyful exploration.

At the start of this summer, following a three-year hiatus for Daphni (punctuated only by his first ever collaborative Daphni track ‘Unidos’ alongside Sofia Kourtesis), he dropped ‘Sad Piano House’. The track represented something of a continuation in the Daphni catalogue, its roots growing from Cherry’s ‘Cloudy’ and its subsequent Kelbin remix, something in that song’s makeup having a profound effect when played on dancefloors by Snaith and countless others. ‘Sad Piano House’ deployed more intangibly irresistible bendy piano to equally satisfying effect and continues to achieve similarly rhapsodic dancefloor saturation.
Though a sizeable gap for Daphni releases, between Cherry and Butterfly however of course sits Honey, the latest Caribou album and one that saw the more instantaneous and dancefloor leaning traits of Daphni peaking through the cracks more than ever before. This blurring of the lines leads to an intriguing collaboration in Butterfly’s lead single ‘Waiting So Long (feat. Caribou)’. An unlikely duo - in that both artists are the same man, Dan Snaith - ‘Waiting So Long’ is not so much an identity crisis, ego trip, or the result of a chemical spill in the Snaith laboratory. It’s simply a track that Snaith felt for the first time belongs to both aliases, and might appeal to fans of both. He has never sung on a Daphni track before, and did not set out with the intention to do so this time, and yet this strange billing was born.

Daphni music has always been Snaith’s way of hitting directly to the core of the dancefloors he spends so much of his time playing to, and those dancefloors have been steadily expanding as his name grows, with the music following suit. This album however also draws from further back with a definite kinship to the very first Daphni album, the invigorating bag of ideas that was Jiaolong.
Butterfly is a showcase of the wonderful variety and surprising twists and turns that made that album such an exciting new prospect and that still to this day make Snaith such an intriguing DJ. There are more heavy hitters here, tracks that fill those dancefloors better than anyone, like ‘Clap Your Hands’ which picks up the energy of ‘Sad Piano House’ and flips it, exposing the gritty and intoxicating underbelly of Snaith’s hitmaking side, while retaining the playful urgency that runs through all of his work of late. Meanwhile ‘Hang’’s comic-strip horns are unpinned by gleeful force, unrelenting and thrillingly unshakeable. Elsewhere though comes a clutch of other tunes that might creep out somewhere more off the beaten path, a path Snaith has never stopped seeking in amongst his larger billings. ‘Lucky’ is squirmy and elusively intoxicating, ‘Invention’ skitters down meandering, inviting corridors, ‘Talk To Me’ grumbles and broods in the murk, and ‘Miles Smiles’ could roll on endlessly, so confident in its groove. There are no obvious peaks in these tracks or unifying moments, in fact many of them really have no business being on the dancefloor at all, and yet in the right setting, they could be the most fun to be had all night.

One such club is a good microcosm for the ethos of Butterfly as a whole. “Around the time I was finishing up this album I played a long set in a club called Open Ground in Wuppertal, Germany.” Snaith recalls, “It’s kind of, in one sense, the platonic ideal of the kind of club I’d want to play in. Every single decision has been taken, at great expense, with the aim of making the perfect sounding medium sized club room. But on top of it being the perfect acoustic environment it also is run by an amazing collection of people in a way that gives it a sense of community that dance music at its best provides. It is an absolute pleasure to play in that room to a crowd of people who come from all over. Playing in there you feel like you can play anything, and I played works in progress of pretty much every track on this album in my set there. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing a short set at a festival or in a more raw warehouse kind of club where you bang it out and only really functional music works but on record I guess the point of these Daphni records is to keep in mind a more expansive idea of dance music where the parameters are broad and the church is broad. I think that actually, putting really functional stuff next to weirder tracks (both on an album and in a dj set) might be the thing that’s still most interesting to me.”
This is the feeling that’s most palpable on Butterfly, and in every single time you see Snaith DJ. Right from the inception of the Daphni alias - and even before that – the thrill of trying stuff out, pushing at the boundaries has always been there and on Butterfly is present in all its twists and turns. It leaps all over the place and yet it hangs together, never feeling like a grab bag of dancefloor utilities but rather a distillation of all the strings to Snaith’s bow, exhilaratingly human and unified by one singular concept – simple and joyful exploration.

When you listen to birds, they usually talk about food, sex/family, or anxiety. If they knew about the true nature of humanity's cruel and exploitative relationship with birds, they would be discussing rebellion. Humanity's current trajectory about birds is to cause the extinction of one-third of all bird species by the end of this century.

This record crystallises the borders between memory, beauty, and anxiety. At the core is an amalgam of all the birds we have met and heard, their sounds synthesised from a blend of memories. Esthetically it simulates the qualities of bird sounds, hitting similar frequential sweet spots. There is a great variety of birds captured here, from high to low frequencies, from solo voices to groups, from birds standing on their own to complex world-building, where the bird voices are part of an ecosystem, becoming one of the instruments.

You could stop there, enjoying this record on a musical level, but it invites us to do one step further, to consider reconfiguring our relationship with the Earth and its inhabitants. To question our impact, and to ask why we need synthetic bird music. Is it just a visionary endeavour or is it because we are failing at fostering a world in which organic birds and other creatures can thrive?

32 artists from the whole world, including our favourite artists from Eastern Europe, have contributed to this compilation both with new and previously released music. Their music is ordered from dawn to dusk and into the night. For many of the artists it's their first time on mappa, but some have previously released an album with us.

A chance meeting in Mexico City set Points of Inaccessibility into motion. When Ibero-American composer Rafael Anton Irisarri crossed paths with Dutch media artist Jaco Schilp at MUTEK in 2024, a conversation about how technology shapes perception revealed an unexpected common ground. Schilp invited Irisarri to a spring 2025 residency at Uncloud, the Utrecht-based collective he co-founded, where Irisarri's sound began to take form amid an environment shaped by Schilp’s visual research.

The Uncloud studio was located inside the former Pieter Baan Centre, a forensic psychiatric prison where suspects of violent crimes were once confined. Its long history of silence and containment shaped the atmosphere in which the project developed. Within this setting, Irisarri coaxed long bowed-guitar tones through a network of pedals and looping systems. The raw gestures thickened into a vaporous and architectural field of sound. Schilp processed the material through a custom point-cloud software patch that produced images in continuous flux. The visuals flickered, dissolved and reformed like memories that resist coherence, functioning as a digital Rorschach that reflected the observer’s own perception.

Amid these spectral echoes, the project evolved into an examination of how the past persists within present signals. Memory endures as residue and interference, continually shaping perception even when its source has faded.

Schilp’s visual process required a continuous stream of sound in real time. Irisarri improvised throughout the residency, generating material that allowed the visuals to develop in parallel. Once back in his New York studio, he began shaping the recordings by carving pathways through the improvisations and mapping selected passages into MIDI. This process allowed him to build outward from the bowed-guitar material with minimal overdubs, adding Prophet 5 textures, Moog bass and strings that expanded the harmonic field while keeping the original performances at the center. To refine the structure, Abul Mogard provided editorial input, working with Irisarri’s stems to guide transitions and strengthen the overall pacing. The material, originally created under conditions of immediacy and constraint, evolved into a fully realized work through careful revision, patience and sustained reworking.

The title engages the geographic concept of the Poles of Inaccessibility, locations defined solely by their distance from all surrounding points. Irisarri adapts this idea to the conditions of digital life, where new forms of inaccessibility arise through the informational enclosures that structure perception. What appears to be a fully connected network often produces a deeper kind of separation, one shaped by the filtering logic of the systems that mediate experience. In this sense, the digital sphere mirrors its geographic counterpart. We inhabit spaces saturated with signals, yet the possibility of genuine contact becomes increasingly remote.

At its core, Points of Inaccessibility considers what can be understood as the new rituals of capitalist realism. Irisarri uses the term digital shamanism to describe the forms of simulated connection that organize contemporary life. These systems promise comfort through algorithms, influencers and AI interlocutors, yet they often reproduce the same conditions that generate loneliness in the first place. What appears as connection becomes the echo of connection, a sequence of gestures that imitate solidarity while withholding it. Like the geographic poles, these rituals are defined by distance. They pull us into environments where everything is illuminated, yet meaningful proximity becomes increasingly rare. In this sense, the work approaches a hauntology of the present, a reflection on futures that have stalled and intimacies that have been thinned by the algorithmic infrastructures that surround us.

This thematic tension unfolds across the album’s four movements. Faded Ghosts of Clouds introduces the work with textures that rise and dissipate in slow cycles, creating an atmosphere that resists clear definition. Breaking the Unison occupies a pivotal position in the sequence and focuses on the moment when the individual and the system fall out of alignment. Its shifting patterns trace the scattering of signals that once suggested connection, revealing the instability at the heart of contemporary perception. Signals from a Distant Afterglow forms the center of the album and features vocals by Karen Vogt, whose presence enters the sound field like a fragile transmission shaped by distance and delay. The closing piece, Memory Strands, follows motifs that appear, recede and briefly intersect before returning to quiet. Across these movements, the album outlines a landscape in which emergence and disappearance continually inform one another.

Listening to Points of Inaccessibility is an encounter with a sound field that is constantly in flux. Elements surface briefly, shift position and recede, creating a sense of motion that resists stable interpretation. The music moves between closeness and vastness, carrying traces of memory while withholding a clear point of resolution.

The album’s visual identity completes the project’s conceptual arc. In Mexico City, where Irisarri and Schilp first met, Daniel Castrejón transformed stills from Schilp’s point-cloud visuals into the cover image. The final artwork captures a single suspended frame of the digital material, a moment extracted from a field that is normally in constant motion. Its surface recalls the texture and abstraction found in the work of Catalan artist Antoni Tàpies, where material presence and erasure coexist within the same plane.

What emerges is a work that examines the tension between technological systems and human presence. Points of Inaccessibility asks whether connection is still possible within environments shaped by mediation and delay, or whether we have become isolated points within the very networks that promise proximity. What possibilities for relation persist within environments organized by algorithms and interruption? And how are we meant to understand presence when so much of it is constructed at a distance?

Points of Inaccessibility will be released on BioVinyl on February 6, 2026, with audiovisual performances planned throughout 2026.

Mastered by Stephan Mathieu
Artwork by Jaco Schilp
Design and layout by Daniel Castrejón
Artist photo by Iulia Alexandra Magheru.

Water can retain or wash away memory; flowing or freezing. It gives life and shapes earth, while frozen imprints of an ancient past are waiting to melt – back into sound or fluid motion, or simply to dissipate and disappear. For their split release, Yoichi Kamimura and Olli Aarni offer two distinct reinterpretations of a performance recorded live at the Temppeliaukio Kirkko – a church in Helsinki built directly into solid rock and bathed in natural light – meditating on glacial landscapes and water cycles, using shared field recordings that bifurcate into two sonic visions of “ice journey”.

Yoichi Kamimura’s extensive recordings formed the bedrock of the original performance, notably from time spent on Suomenlinna Island just outside Helsinki in 2021, aiming to capture the remnants of the glacial movements that formed the area’s geology. Elsewhere, the voices of ringed seals, underground waterways of Kyoto, and icy rivers in Lapland from Kamimura’s library float in as well. “The small, charming, and gentle islands floating in the Baltic Sea—some with little cottages and restaurants—reminded me of the drifting ice in the Sea of Okhotsk between Japan and Russia,” describes Kamimura. Fragments of a Christmas choir creep in too, recorded at the church on Suomenlinna Island. Titled Kōri no ryokō , Kaimimura’s reinterpretation of the performance emphasises a shared future across all icy sea regions of the world: thawing ancient memories and the threat of disappearing entirely.

On Jäämatkailu, Olli Aarni presents his own expansive reworking of the same source material, heavily processed alongside his own field recordings from Vantaanjoki river and Suontee lake in Finland. “I was thinking about the processes of erosion, water carving rock, the prehistoric glaciers over the landscape in my own environment,” explains Aarni. The soundscape hums with both intimate details and macrocosmic flow, and a submersible bass rumble hinting at an iceberg far below the tip, morphing at time scales beyond human comprehension.

Side A is composed by Yoichi Kamimura using field recordings of drift ice (Shiretoko, Hokkaido, 2019–2022), the Lake Biwa Canal (Kyoto, 2020), the Therme Vals baths (Vals, 2017), spring water (a fountain next to Saint Benedict Chapel, 2017), a Christmas choir (Suomenlinna Church, Helsinki, 2021), ice in the Juutuanjoki River (Inari, 2021), and recordings from Yoichi’s and Olli’s concert (Temppeliaukion kirkko, Helsinki, 2021), KORG iPolysix, and KORG minilogue xd.

Side B is composed by Olli Aarni using the aforementioned sounds + field recordings of the river Vantaanjoki and the lake Suontee, sampled sounds, and a computer.

Allowing yourself to find meaning or beauty in the mundane is an act of generosity, Whether it’s seeing a smiling face in an electrical outlet socket, or discerning cosmic design amidst the forest floor detritus, it comes from a place of kindness to yourself and senses – and openness to hidden spirit of the world. These tracks came together during a period of intense personal change for adaa, rooted in a fruitful reflection on the connections between spirit and body, “feeling my flesh so I can feel and understand my spirit,” as adaa puts it. The sense of a crossover and clash of multiple connected realities – on-screens, on-line, on-earth, off-world, after-life – unites adaa’s multifaceted productions.

Ostensibly an assemblage of found sounds. scribbled thoughts and poems from diaries, and musial snippets, the album's scattered production reflects adaa’s own many mirror worlds. Field recording sit behind most tracks, alongside VST synths, guitars, and a variety of voices, from adaa’s own mangled vox to EVP samples taken from YouTube (recorded sounds believed to be spirits or paranormal activity), all processed to varying degrees.

While the music was mostly produced either in adaa’s studio in Providence, Rhode Island, or in bed, the field recordings bring the outside world in. The result of walks in the woods, hum of roads and highways, hiss of beaches, warmth of walks with friends and past lovers “around the East Coast”. It sits behind tracks like ‘sight’ where a lilting piano lin bobs atop a pond of rustling and distant whistles. Is that birdsong? Or ghosts? Saccharine hyperpop arpeggiation crossfades sharply into noise guitar squall. Angelic demon voices yawn into a hefty crescendo. Pure drones duet with gales of undefinable field sounds.

“Sometimes I feel like a seed in frosted soil,” says adaa. “If i choose to be optimistic.”

To decay is also to transform. Rusting metal is the visible traces of passing time, as the oxidation process accumulates dampness in our atmosphere and imprints it as unpredictable patterns onto hard iron and steel. Working in construction for a year now, Kensho Nakamura sees rust all the time, clambering up ageing chunks of material. Normally discarded as waste, Nakamura began discerning beauty in the phenomenon, organically spiralling around and consuming some of the very hardest of manufacturing stuffs into unique new forms.

‘Electric Rust’ continues the conceptual electronic composition mode of Nakamura’s previous works with a series of fractured musical dioramas. These scurrying notes, sparse hums, and quivering bleeps explore the topics of rust and the accumulation of time. The music ticks like a clock, drips like a tap, and manifests unknowable inorganic shapes. Recognisable musical snippets of bells, pianos, or murmured voices are buried inside counterintuitive synthetic rhythms and tension.

On ‘wet air’ piano notes tinkle and pipes gargle, digital detritus tap dances and arpeggios stumble. On ‘unique faces’, idle marimbas and malfunctioning animalistic squeaks flounder. This is music from the promethean space between being forgotten and being conceived. ‘Electric Rust’ is a topography of a world of rust, where corroding structures evolve into new — and beautiful — patterns of life.

After following Luke Blair's work for approaching two decades from his 2007 debut as Lukid on Actress' Werk Discs, we're humbled to present a new album on Death Is Not The End. Following relatively hot on the heels of 2023's Tilt (his first in 11 years, not counting his work with Jackson Bailey under the Rezzett guise) Underloop brings Blair's innate knack for building loops and sound structures further to the surface, while allowing his ear for emotional expression to be dialled up a notch. Those fortunate enough to be familiar with Lukid's work as a DJ will be aware of how distinct his ability is to seamlessly disappear into loop-based abstraction and back again seemingly without blinking, and often Underloop feels much like a collection of the sludgey interludes and foggy sketches that underpin his sets. Blending apparently ramshackle melodies and textures and pulling them together into an undeniable whole, Blair's tendency for pairing the simple and the indescribable with an understated vigour is fully on show here.

Written and produced by Luke Blair. Mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi.

Mutable Ground is an album created through an exchange of recordings between Anna and Yannis. The project is rooted in the idea of sudden shifts in current events and the ever-growing emotions tied to loss, change, and tension. Each track title is inspired by unstable phenomena and objects, reflecting the potential for unexpected movement and the transitions of both nature and humanity. Repetitive, chaotic drum patterns, vocals that echo sounds of wounded or lost animals, hollow soundscapes reveal a sonic world where creation and destruction coexist—where people dance around fires, caught between fragility and resilience.

Ushering in a new era, Berlin based, New Zealand heavy psych duo Earth Tongue lower the castle gates on their third album Dungeon Vision, a trove of fuzz-drenched anthems produced by garage rock luminary Ty Segall in Los Angeles. Guitarist Gussie Larkin and drummer Ezra Simons spent the Berlin winter of 2025 refining the album’s twelve tracks in their self-described “windowless cave” rehearsal space, crafting a record that channels both isolation and the duo’s live intensity. With the songs finally taking shape and a studio deadline looming, they flew to Los Angeles to turn their hard-won ideas into the real thing. Once there, the band and Ty captured lightning in a bottle, recording and mixing Dungeon Vision in just ten days at Altamira Sound. Tracked live to tape, Dungeon Vision pulses with human energy, fuzz guitars, bone-battering drums, and hauntingly tuneful vocals. Ty Segall’s influence is all over the record with Ty choosing the best takes based on feel rather than technical perfection. The “king of fuzzy guitar tones” pushed the duo to find new sonic textures while championing their raw chemistry. “Ty’s been a big driving force,” says Ezra. “We supported him in New Zealand back in 2023, and he’s backed us ever since even bringing us on tour through Europe and the UK in 2024.” Since their emergence in 2016, Earth Tongue’s world-building, visuals, and relentless touring have earned them global attention and a cult-like following. Their 2024 album Great Haunting, also released on In The Red Records, received a Taite Music Prize nomination and saw them win Best Group at the 2025 Aotearoa Music Awards. They’ve toured extensively, sharing stages with the likes of Queens of the Stone Age, IDLES, Acid King, Brant Bjork and Kikagaku Moyo. With Dungeon Vision, Earth Tongue deliver their most immersive work yet, a richly human, fuzz-soaked journey that bottles the magic of their live show and cements their reputation as one of the most exciting psych rock acts on the planet.

RENO, the debut album from Red Leather, is a scorched-earth confession wrapped in the swagger of classic rock and the soul of Americana. Written in the aftermath of addiction, heartbreak, and self-reckoning, it’s an unflinching look at what it means to burn your life down and start over. Across its 14 tracks, Red Leather howls through desert nights and neon cityscapes, blending grit and grace in equal measure. Songs like “Deathwish,” “Burn in Hell,” and “The Only Time It Rains in Hollywood” are raw, cinematic, and deeply human—each one a snapshot of pain, defiance, and redemption. Equal parts road trip and resurrection, RENO cements Red Leather as one of the most compelling new voices in modern rock. 1xLP, Single Pocket Jacket, Pressed on Translucent Red Vinyl

APORIAMOR noun 1. The death of love’s contradiction.
| “Embody APORIAMOR”

Etymology
aporia-: an irresolvable internal contradiction or logical disjunction in a text, argument, or theory. from Greek aporos ‘impassable’, from a- ‘without’ + poros ‘passage’
-amor: love. Sentimiento intenso del ser humano que, partiendo de su propia insuficiencia, necesita y busca el encuentro y unión con otro ser. Del latín amor.
-mor: latin for death.

APORIAMOR explores the affective ontological and organic processes of love and lust in the turmoil of an urban existence, through the female lens. It expresses the process of strengthening through heartbreak in its various forms.

With her debut EP The Art of the Concrete, elsas knew that by giving that name to a record which was ironically expansive and experimental, she would be calling for a distilled and clearer path further down the line. This is what she’s been incorporating into the sonic world of this new EP, APORIAMOR, signifying the birth of a more matured and distilled version of herself as an artist.

With APORIAMOR (“the death of love’s contradiction”) elsas conveys a personal process of healing in the romantic space. Through different experiences of heartbreak, elsas builds a language - a coping mechanism attached to its subsequent artistic expression – that isn’t founded on hardness or a closing-off, but instead, on a playful but profound reckoning, and learning of self-worth.

APORIAMOR embraces the complexities of being a lover-girl: of moving through life with an open heart. It celebrates the clarity, sweet hindsight, and detachment that come from processing emotion. APORIAMOR is both an affirmation and a release.

elsas makes canonical blends with a forward boundary-bending vision. Her sound in this record is naturally referential of both her Mediterranean heritage and UK alternative music — intrinsic parts of her lived experience. She has had the opportunity to collaborate with artists she deeply admires, each exchange enriching her creative world.

The experience of working hand-in-hand with Sampha for the last 3 years and ongoingly has been a core of her evolution as an artist. She has also collaborated in many forms with artists like Florence + the Machine, Little Simz, Jordan Rakei, Jockstrap, Obongjayar, Black Country New Road, Genevieve Artadi (KNOWER) and Duval Timothy. Additionally, her ongoing work with the Idrîsî Ensemble, of which she is a core member, continues to inform her artistic depth.

The making of this largely self-produced record unfolded over four years — “it’s a well-kneaded dough,” she says. These songs evolved through exposure to multiple environments: from early writing sessions in her childhood home in the Spanish countryside, to stages across the U.S. while on tour supporting Sampha.

Experimentation and modulation are an intrinsic part of elsas’ method, conceiving songs as organisms that respond to their surroundings. Collaborators on this collection of songs include Shrink, Will Lister, Gabriel Gifford, Ethan P. Flynn and more. The record was mixed by David Wrench (a long-time supporter of elsas’) and Nathan Boddy, and mastered by Matt Colton.

With APORIAMOR, elsas creates a visual world from the fabulation of the past, as an act of playful historical revisionism in which she embeds herself as both subject and storyteller. The songs function like an archive of her experiences across various years, each one unearthed and presented as some sort of archaeological artifact. Through this body of work, elsas begins to conceptualize herself as a legacy artist: one who honors the archive of her own becoming while emerging as a distinct and resonant voice in today’s musical landscape.