Buscar:hyper on experience

Carved out from between the cracks of life over a 2 year period, Low Flung presents his eighth full length album ‘The Wheel’. Together, the 11 tracks provide a space to process and sit with difficult change. This takes the form of microscopic minimalist landscapes. Presented in both audio and physical form as micro grooves on a 12” vinyl.

At times the sound wanders and walks, other times it remains still, clear and precise. The omni-present artifacts found in ‘The Wheel’ are left to breathe a different life during each listen. Drones act like familiar trails losing their path as space transforms like a breeze over a table of sand. Hyper focused spores evolve around blurred waves of time. Electronic tones are captured flowing to the rhythm of a decaying natural world.

‘The Wheel’ is a patchwork of sonic experiments made using modular synthesis, fixed architecture synthesis, Buchla Music Easel (replica), outboard effects, cassette manipulation techniques, samplers and field recordings taken along the texturally rich and historically questionable eastern coastline of Australia.

The tracks have been composed with a materiality that embraces the acoustics of different listening environments. Much like mood, this means each listening experience is unique due to the natural acoustics of your listening space. The sounds on this album embrace this phenomena, creating a rich, visceral listening experience that slowly scratches away at discrete moments of time

Rather than attempting to traverse new sonic fields of experimentation in ‘The Wheel’, the album touches on the various spaces Danny has explored over the past ten years as an Audio Visual artist. Although technically eighth, it would be more fitting to say this album draws a clear line from ‘Blow Waves (2018)’ to ‘Outside The Circle (2020)’ to become the third and final chapter in the expanded non linear, unintentional landscape series. Serendipitous that each was conceived over 2 year periods of time.

While the key focus is sitting with difficult change, this album is also a celebration of any moment you might find yourself in. Good, bad, easy or hard, this album is an attempt to help with feeling content wherever you are along your path. With each cycle a new context.

The moons of Saturn are the inspiration for this brooding, often soaring and searching odyssey of dark electronica.

The second largest planet in the solar system after Jupiter, and the sixth planet from the sun, Saturn is orbited by 53 confirmed moons, with another 29 that are unnamed and still being studied.

Saturnian is a suite of thirteen choral tracks taking their names from some of Saturn's known moons; Dione, Daphnis, Phoebe, Prometheus, Rhea, Janus, Titan, Enceladus, Tethys, Telesto, Mimas, Hyperion and Iapetus, all named after figures from Greek and Roman mythology, each loaded with their own turbulent back stories. It is the debut release by Holmes + atten Ash, written, recorded and produced remotely in Edinburgh and Bristol by the duo Simon Holmes and Paul Nash.

Their project began during the 2020 lockdown. For Simon, time was spent exploring the Pentland Hills south of Edinburgh. For Paul, the Mendip Hills, south of Bristol. Both would experience the darker side of our human impact on the environment. Simon observed the wilderness as a wasteland, finding discarded, rusting metal littering the Pentland Hills while Paul witnessed the decimation of the ancient woodland of the Mendips' King's Wood due to the destructive tree fungus ash dieback.

These field trips fuelled a desire to navigate not just the landscape, but the duo's emotional place within it. Their collaboration led to a concept album that explores the outer reaches of the solar system, while simultaneously grounding them in a specific place. Looking inwards as much as outwards, theycreated soundscapes based on deeply imagined and felt connections to their surroundings.

After Simon had created a choral piece to accompany Luke Jerram's enormous, world touring artwork Museum of the Moon, Saturnian was a natural progression. When Simon was sent an initial score for the ethereal track Enceladus, composed by Paul in Bristol, he added choral arrangements recorded in Edinburgh. Their shimmering, tense opus continued to evolve from there. Just as the discarded bed springs and abandoned car parts that Simon stumbled upon in the Pentland Hills seemed to him at once "horrible but also oddly beautiful", Saturnian melds together melancholy and levity, fusing moments of dark angst with a celestial calm.

Opening with the glistening, hopeful brightness of Dione, increasingly urgent rhythms give way to digital, otherworldly calls from what might be rainforest creatures chirping into life with robotic squawks and delicate keyboard lines on Phoebe, followed by slowed down, monastic song on Rhea. Tethys is a hypnotic blur of synthesiser and soft chanting, while Rhea is a mysterious, echoing chasm, lifted by melodic, gentle male vocals. Janus has a glowing, effervescent energy, swiftly followed by a sense of tension on Titan, which throbs with driving percussive unease.

The album artwork is a pencil drawing created by Edinburgh artist Simon Kirby. It was made by a robot drawing machine, using custom algorithms that bring to life recordings of the sound of magnetic waves near Saturn's icy moon, Enceladus. The lines in the centre of the drawing are distorted by sound captured by the Cassini spacecraft which studied Saturn for over a decade.

Much like Saturn and its frozen, rocky moons, this debut album from Holmes + atten Ash is mysterious and beguiling, with a hint of foreboding in the depths of its powerful beauty and epic scale.

Rikers Island is yet another very sought after slice of wax from Q Project, this time with the aid of his long time collaborator, Dj Spinback. This track, with it’s two different versions, will cater to pretty much any jungle raver. The ‘On The Run Mix’ is the darker of the two and today would most definitely be called the ‘VIP Mix’ for sure, but this is from a time where artists and producers where still inventing the music. Then the ‘Dream Mix’ is the more atmospheric version, the one that you would drop when the crowd isn’t as dark or you wanted to lift them back up some, and this track does that perfectly.

Club / DJ Support
Jay Cunning, Billy Bunter, the Fat Controller, Liquid, Hyper On Experience, Glowkid, Slipmatt, Dj Jedi, Dj Luna-C, Dj Brisk, Paul Bradley, Jimni Cricket, Bustin, Jimmy J, Doughboy, Lowercase, Dave Skywalker, Ponder and many others

There is a particular kind of strangeness that arrives on long drives across Europe. Flat light, service stations and fields stretching endlessly past the window. It might look mundane at first glance, but becomes faintly surreal when the tiredness of touring blurs the edges of everything.

That feeling became the quiet engine behind Driving Through Belgium, the debut solo album from Anton Pearson, best known as one of the guitarists in respected post-punk outfit Squid. The title grew from a track that felt like the record’s centrepiece, which itself came from the recurring image of extensive periods on the road across the continent. It is a record shaped in the margins of touring, and finessed in the in-between hours.

Across six pieces, Pearson leans into atmosphere, texture and space. It is ambient in spirit, adjacent to contemporary classical in feeling, but composed less with notes in mind than with sound itself. The compositions rarely began with harmony or melody, with Pearson instead responding to his environment and sounds in real time, placing trust in his instinct.

Although initial inspiration came from the road, the album was recorded in a studio he shares in Brighton, and marks his first fully solo project made in that setting. It gave him access to not only new tools and techniques, but a hitherto un-experienced freedom. Much of the process began experimentally, feeding instruments into unfamiliar chains, pitching loops into unexpected registers and playing with previously unused synthesizers simply to see what they might reveal. Many of the sounds were created out of pure curiosity, wanting to understand a piece of equipment or technology, and then following wherever it led.

The album was built with this experimentation at its core, as Pearson would layer then extract, processing stacks of sound until things blur and confuse. Guitars dissolve into drones, a Pianet Clavinet dances against muddier textures whilst a Korg PS-1000 occasionally cuts through with its glittering top end. On ‘Driving Past the Muscular Cows in Belgium’, a flat, still drone is pushed through valve amps until it growls and tightens with tension, before receding again. Even the trumpet, which Pearson freely admits he is not technically proficient at, is embraced in its naivety, its squeaks left intact rather than corrected. The twin ‘Tintinnabulation’ pieces frame the record with looping, pitched bell like tones, accidental discoveries that became structural anchors. Meanwhile, ‘Teeth to Cut the Grass’ deliberately introduces abrasion, some of the harshest textures on the record, a refusal to become passive background music.


That embrace of imperfection is central. In contrast to the hyper-analytical precision of his band, Pearson was keen to honour first takes. If something felt good, it would stay. The end result is an album that favours looseness, instinct and the energy of creation itself. If Squid thrives on propulsion and tension, Anton Pearson finds his energy in suspension on Driving Through Belgium. It is curious rather than declarative, creating a space where experimentation feels playful again.

London experimental spoken word and electronics duo BAG land on Phantom Limb with mesmerising new album This House is a Body, marrying visceral poetry with exploratory production to achieve beguiling, occasionally screwy and occasionally dreamy sonics.

“This album functions as a floor plan, a house in itself, collecting and containing the ecosystems of multiple rooms,” write BAG - Canadian artist and poet Jody DeSchutter and London producer Daniel Allison. “The roles we play can be defined by the room we are in; and it can be near impossible to tell what room we are in without looking from outside. This album maps out a number of rooms which hold such relations, memories, or experiences and builds them all into a single house, a single body.” Formed from Allison’s headspinning, depth-mining production for synthesis, field recording, and acoustic instrumentation, and DeSchutter’s lysergic and prophetic spoken word, the palette of This House is a Body can turn on a dime from claustrophobia and dread to hyperreal dream sequence, illuminated in sunstreamed glory in places and dripping with basement effluvia in others. Throughout, words, meaning, and imagery all dissolve into an architecture of alternately familiar and unknowable sound.

Joe Fujinoki centered the compositions of his latest album Glass Torso round the idea of the fragility of the human body. Fujinoki described the narrative thread of the album as that of “holding the shape of a human body as if it might shatter like glass”. The precariousness of the body, the essence of the body as defined by Fujinoki as the torso, and the object relations between the boundaries of dialectical exercises pack themselves into his creative process.

Fujinoki recorded Glass Torso exclusively with analog synthesizers, stumbling in and out of structural loops to find space for accidental discoveries. The ten pieces of recorded material feel somewhere on the edge of typified form, feeling like a vascular system pumping in and out its undulating liquidities. Maybe this is the hollowed space held together by Fujinoki’s notion of the torso where you hear a microscopic world, dubby and generative. Fujinoki is adept at organizing this realm of subtle sound sources, giving proper considerations of shared tonal space. Seemingly, this handling of the precarity of sonic material elucidates Fujinoki’s mature attention to detail.

Ambient music genre tropes often affirm the listeners vessel for escape and dissociation. It provides an intoxicating allure by respite from an overwhelming exterior reality far outside the listeners controls. Here this space becomes apolitical, or its protest vocabulary softer and subtle. Fujinoki does not aim to tackle hyperobject topics on how to course correct the world, but he does something increasingly rarer to come across. On Glass Torso an alternative space is created not as shelter, but as a meditation on negotiation and compromise. This twenty eight minutes of audio lays down a foundation for imagination, for imagining how to negotiate the fragility of the self. Zoomed out, the implications of his negotiative sonics can be a playground for broader reflections on distributive care and attention.

Fujinoki says he feels “alert” to his physicality and placement in the world amidst vast digital cultures creating impositions on him and his surroundings. On Glass Torso he creates a concretized space on a vinyl record, where the virtual and the tangible antagonize one another that create the spectacle of the listening experience. This spectacle is a soft one, a considered one, and an utmost enjoyable one. Fujinoki juggles opposing forces brilliantly, and formulates an exquisite palette of soft passing music so he can also help the listener with the exquisite burden of their own Glass Torso.”

- Nick Klein, January 2026

Isella doesn’t flinch from the horror stitched into the fabric of the feminine experience. Citing writers like Plath Margaret Atwood, and Mona Awad as germinal influences on her lyricism, Isella plunges into the underbelly of expectations of good-girlhood, of valiant womanhood. In her songs she splays out the stakes of it all, plumbing the viscera, unearthing the blood, guts, dirt, and decay lurking beneath. By the time she hit fifteen, Isella’s taste had expanded and grown darker and more mature. Artists like Nine Inch Nails and Tom Waits became a conduit for the kind of raw intensity she’d always been drawn to, and gave her permission to push herself to new depths of expression. This is evidenced on her latest EP; That freedom that Reznor et al. endowed to the songwriter are evidenced on her latest EP; Something is a shell . Isella’s vocals swing from coolly detached to emotional detonation, often in the span of the same song. She brings listeners into a world colored by feminist hyper-realism, challenging listeners to re-define ideas of femininity, and safety; to see that things are not okay.

The Fuga compilation returns to Token with its seventh installment by a fresh batch of artists emphasizing the cryptic sound of the Belgian record label. The V/A displays urgency as its focal point, expanding and contracting its acoustic space throughout to channel instability. With eight contributions, Fuga VII sifts through nail biting arpeggios, frenzied percussion, and obscure ambiance to recalibrate techno's current soundscape.

Opening the compilation is contemporary techno mainstay Rene Wise with his debut contribution to the record label 'Rough Rider'. In this A1, Wise plays to his strengths by blending deep techno influences with hyper-focused rhythmic work. With a hint of tribalism, he conjures up synthwork from far off to whip motion into heavy drum patterns. Following this first track, STIPP and Sandrien take control in presenting 'Corrie', a sequence-forward groover that slides through drum programing to streamline rhythm. A shrill pad comes in at the halfway mark, completely lifting the energy of 'Corrie' to strain the track's obscurity with an ethereal counterweight. The brief passage of these kinds of elements provides a lot of dynamic to what would otherwise be a powerfully straightforward piece. Diving deeper, Red Rooms unveils 'Limited Sensory' as the next chapter of the compilation. Always swift and exact, the German artist continues to push into the ultra immersive with a web of elements that whiz by for a peaktime lock in. Cold in attitude, Red Rooms tunnels through 'Limited Sensory' with quick drumsand far-off percussive hits that rumble through the track. Stepping up afterwards is Lindsey Herbert with 'Oscillations in Space' - an appropriately named recording that experiments with mania as a tool for the dancefloor. Fast and spiraling, Herbert keeps her hands on the arpeggio's filter to contain tension through thunderous reverb transitions, balancing panic with pace. AgainstMe then stretches out the followup with the commanding 'Phase Shift' to double down on weight. Textural intimidation and stomping percussion is given the space it needs to perform on heavy weight sound systems, making it an austere middle point for Fuga. MAL HOMBRE then guides the listener to more elastic sound design in 'Critical Velocity', in a most appropriate Token fashion. Snowballing in intensity halfway through, MAL HOMBRE pushes the cutoff of his melody and programs snare rolls for vintage craze through the second section. Bells clash with ringing hats to fly the track along its course without looking back or letting go. Conor Wall takes control with 'The Strategy' that focuses on pace rather than melody, weaponizing metallic texture for a deep dancefloor experience. The ambiance does a lot of story telling here, marking breaks and riding through drops to provide grit to an already substantial record. This leads us to the final contribution in Fuga VII - 'Ad Libitum'. Here, Porteix emphasizes the conclusion of the compilation with mystery. The synths slither around pulsating rhythm, creating uninterrupted motion throughout the track's entirety. Porteix draws the curtains on an inquisitive note, keeping the suspense high until the next Fuga compilation comes around.

There’s an alternate reality where everyone makes a living wage and the cleanest buses you’ve ever seen arrive every other minute. Where the most intense songs are about confessing your love to a crush at the apple orchard, and where gentle feelings and chaotic energy are inseparable best friends. This is the timeline where Cootie Catcher is right at home. This Toronto based four-piece exudes both vulnerability and unbridled excitement, creating a sound that hypercharges the open-hearted tenderness of twee pop with spiraling synths and giddy electronics. New album Something We All Got is the clearest and most vibrant reading of Cootie Catcher’s vision yet, with songs of sweetness, nervousness, and expectancy that beam out unguarded.
After releasing music made primarily in basement recording environments, Something We All Got is the band’s first flirtation with studio recording. The edges are still sharp, however, with some parts assembled from time-honored lo-fi methods and fun, personally-sourced samples seeping into the production. The sound is explosive and upbeat, with euphoric guitars, bubbly synth lines, speedy drums both played and programmed, and all other manner of sound constantly colliding. Cootie Catcher has three songwriters, Sophia Chavez, Anita Fowl, and Nolan Jakupovski, all of whom have distinctive voices but still manage to overlap in their writing on shared concerns like navigating the lines of romantic and platonic relationships, their city’s social scenes, and struggles in both the microcosmic experience of playing in a band and the zoomed-out challenges of living through late-stage capitalism.
Joy still touches every surface of Something We All Got. “Quarter Note Rock” bounces around the room in a fit of jangling guitar chords, scratched samples, and interplay between breakbeat loops and somersaulting live drums. It’s a blast of positivity even with lyrics about how disappointing it can be to meet your heroes. A smiling electro pop instrumental supports lyrics about having to step painfully away from an almost realized love on “Gingham Dress,” a song that subverts themes of domesticity as a backdrop for the dashed wilt of hopeless devotion.
Cootie Catcher rolls down hills and jumps through flaming hoops throughout Something We All Got without ever dumbing down the visceral emotions that drive these songs. There’s a palpable tension between the band’s exhilarating sonics and the raw, often uneasy sentiments expressed, but it’s an integral part of what makes them unique. Rather than hide behind the kind of calculated vagueness that plagues so much of the indie rock landscape in the time of cursed algorithms, Cootie Catcher runs full-speed toward every confusion and excitement, fearlessly direct and embracing the reality they’re in.

There’s an alternate reality where everyone makes a living wage and the cleanest buses you’ve ever seen arrive every other minute. Where the most intense songs are about confessing your love to a crush at the apple orchard, and where gentle feelings and chaotic energy are inseparable best friends. This is the timeline where Cootie Catcher is right at home. This Toronto based four-piece exudes both vulnerability and unbridled excitement, creating a sound that hypercharges the open-hearted tenderness of twee pop with spiraling synths and giddy electronics. New album Something We All Got is the clearest and most vibrant reading of Cootie Catcher’s vision yet, with songs of sweetness, nervousness, and expectancy that beam out unguarded.
After releasing music made primarily in basement recording environments, Something We All Got is the band’s first flirtation with studio recording. The edges are still sharp, however, with some parts assembled from time-honored lo-fi methods and fun, personally-sourced samples seeping into the production. The sound is explosive and upbeat, with euphoric guitars, bubbly synth lines, speedy drums both played and programmed, and all other manner of sound constantly colliding. Cootie Catcher has three songwriters, Sophia Chavez, Anita Fowl, and Nolan Jakupovski, all of whom have distinctive voices but still manage to overlap in their writing on shared concerns like navigating the lines of romantic and platonic relationships, their city’s social scenes, and struggles in both the microcosmic experience of playing in a band and the zoomed-out challenges of living through late-stage capitalism.
Joy still touches every surface of Something We All Got. “Quarter Note Rock” bounces around the room in a fit of jangling guitar chords, scratched samples, and interplay between breakbeat loops and somersaulting live drums. It’s a blast of positivity even with lyrics about how disappointing it can be to meet your heroes. A smiling electro pop instrumental supports lyrics about having to step painfully away from an almost realized love on “Gingham Dress,” a song that subverts themes of domesticity as a backdrop for the dashed wilt of hopeless devotion.
Cootie Catcher rolls down hills and jumps through flaming hoops throughout Something We All Got without ever dumbing down the visceral emotions that drive these songs. There’s a palpable tension between the band’s exhilarating sonics and the raw, often uneasy sentiments expressed, but it’s an integral part of what makes them unique. Rather than hide behind the kind of calculated vagueness that plagues so much of the indie rock landscape in the time of cursed algorithms, Cootie Catcher runs full-speed toward every confusion and excitement, fearlessly direct and embracing the reality they’re in.

The last time Noir embarked on a similar creative exorcism was for 2012's Jimmy's Show LP which selected choice cuts from 18 E.P. 's released via straight to fan subscription over as many months. The resulting album is one of his most lauded and beloved by fans, with the vinyl now selling for silly money on Discogs.

Programmes for Cools is Jimmy's Show's spiritual successor, idiosyncratic, other worldly and brimming with timeless melodies. Noir's influences seep through the track list, wrapped with a haunting, dreamlike delivery.

First single 'Out Of Sight' is a Fleetwood Mac meets Selected Ambient Works era Richard D James, four to the floor banger. Already a fan favourite, it propels Side A forward with a somewhat misplaced optimism, much like Neil Young's 'Walk On' starting On the Beach.

Side B is more esoteric, exemplified by 'Fireworks’which includes lyrics and vocals from Marie Claude Dequoy,produced with the wooze of golden era Boards of Canada. Elsewhere, influences as disparate as Stevie Wonder, on the wonky clav funk of 'The Fountain', and Ian Brown 'I think I found it' illustrate Noir's disregard for musical straightjackets (the latter may have the most unapologetic baggy, hypnotic groove since the Mondays' 'Halleluiah').

As the album swells to its conclusion, via the epic Led Zeppelin meets the Warhol clique 'Morning Light’and the heart tugging finale of 'Motorbike’(the first song released from the most recent run of E.P.'s), there is a sense of completion and finality...
‘This is the last Jim Noir album. There are no more Jim Noir albums after this one. This time I'm serious. It's been the hardest I've ever worked on anything. I think I have created my own Be Here Now...Sorry.’
Joking and hyperbole aside, the album has more of an Abbey Road feel, and needs to be experienced in one sitting. If the infamous Davyhulme prankster is to be believed and this is his final outing, then you could wish for a more fitting album. - NM

Inspired by witnessing the broken tension and renewed possibilities of a laptop breaking down at a gig – not to mention the void left behind by the sudden end of a relationship – Pentu’s latest release is a jump-cut menagerie of musical moments. Sewn together into ‘And I Saw My Devil And I Saw My Deep Blue Sea’, these fifteen tracks continue the London-based producer’s active departure from the soundscapes and song structures that dominated their previous writing style. These disparate pieces slice themselves off into sudden silence, or veer into unpredictable sidebars, hopping from hyperactive instrumentals to beautifully deconstructed YouTube samples. Described by Pentu as “emotionally intuitive to write”, this is music by and for the endlessly scrolling modern mind – “navigating the world alongside the splintered, interruptive emotional hyper realities of social media.”

The sudden silences, drones, and interruptions are perhaps less surprising than the guitar-based textures of metal & shoegaze woven into several vital passages by Pentu. The result is a collage that encapsulates the erratic feeling, not only of a relationship’s end, but simply of navigating online mediascapes.”I found myself realising that my phone, the constant interrupter of nothingness and silence, was both a cause of depression (reliving memories, dating apps) and a relief from it (creating new friendships, distractions, also dating apps)”, says Pentu.

Pentu’s attempt to overcome content overload by actively curbing his setup of laptop-guitar--synth does little to reduce the scope of this album’s sonic palette. YouTube vlog samples (from videos with next-to-no views) are an attempt to recontextualise and dramatise material that “would have otherwise been throwaway moments lost in the internet”, adding staccato moments of reality to Pentu’s beautiful and jarring album-length paean to overstimulation.

2026 Repress

Since its inception in 2016, Cornucopia has been a musical project synonymous with creativity and depth. The name itself, rooted in ancient mythology, symbolizes abundance and prosperity. Today, it evokes the same spirit- a metaphorical horn overflowing with ideas and innovation. This ethos emerges in the latest release, the fifth offering from the new label run by Guy J.

The music is a testament to artistic richness and a celebration of sonic exploration.
The release opens with Remember Me, a mellow yet groove-infused track tailor-made for sunset moments by the sea. Built on hypnotic layers, it evolves into an atmospheric journey that blends joy, subtle ecstasy, and vibrant energy. In an age of musical hyperproduction, Remember Me is a reason alone to celebrate Cornucopia's return. Yet,it is only the beginning; the unexpected euphoria unfolds as the release progresses.

Seasoned partygoers often categorize tracks by their vibe-some are designed for the night, while others are for the early hours. The title track, Early Morning, is an ode to the latter, crafted to accompany the most dedicated dancers as they greet the dawn. Driven by uplifting arpeggios, the track radiates unfiltered positivity, eliciting smiles and a deep connection among those on the dance floor. Already road-tested in DJ sets, this euphoric anthem has been hailed as a secret weapon of underground music, delivering pure joy with every beat.

Released by the Early Morning label, it is a fitting finale to this remarkable collection. With its undeniable potential to become a future classic, Cornucopia's latest offering is an experience that lingers long after the final note.

2026 Repress

Flickering in ultraviolet, there is an elusive place where blue pill meets red, ups become downs, and day merges with night. Those liminal spaces where anything is possible is where you’ll find Nightbus and their hypnotic debut album Passenger. Doom, uncertainty, and opportunity lurk in the shadowy corners of their murky existence with stops at disassociation, co-dependency, and addiction before reaching its final destination - a glimmer of hope.

The in-between of Nightbus’ own Gotham lies where Manchester’s city pulse meets Stockport’s outer realm. An audio-visual entity formed among a musical family of friends, freaks, and foes in messy mills and after hours on dancefloors alike, their sound bleeds from tension where collective creative forces are bound together and collide with the fallout of being torn apart. Before even playing a show, their So Young released single ‘Mirrors’ – a knowing nod of respect to some well-known gloomy Northerners - may have made old school indie heads shimmy at shows in Salford’s The White Hotel but also signalled the duo’s knack for offering listeners a Bandersnatch approach to hitchhiking their own personal Nightbus in whatever direction they choose to take. “Everyone can have their moment with our songs; the music is our response to who we are as young people, living in the city full of this energy right now,” they say.

Whilst reverb hefty melodies and dread-filled loops embody isolation from writing at each of their home studio set-ups, magic happens in the ether across 90s trip-hop, indie sleaze and electronica; Jake’s production layers Olive’s pop sentimentality with drums and samples whilst tales of a cast of faceless characters place Olive as puppet master; her severed self’s perspective manipulating their stringed limbs at arm’s length to see how their stories play out when scenes reflecting her own lie close to the bone. “It’s a bit fucked; like having this out of body experience with a made-up movie running through my head,” she says. “As I write I can see they’re all from a similar world, but they allow me to explore different feelings without giving away part of myself.”

Recorded at The Nave in Leeds with producer-engineer Alex Greaves (Heavy Lungs, Working Men’s Club), surprise and danger lies in every crevice. Brooding whispers turn to chants on 6-minute opus ‘Host.’ Improvised when performed live, its immersive shift in tempo leads to hefty dub courtesy of Jake’s pedals. Even then, you won’t know shit’s hit the fan until its mid-point reveal when ominous bass blasts a thunderous soundtrack as its protagonist defiantly walks away after committing the perfect crime. “It makes you wait, and more songs should have sirens,” Olive grins.

Leaning deeper into alter-egos via the video game-psychological horror of a Silent Hill dystopia, the band’s Fight Club moment ‘Angles Mortz’ turns its literal translation of death angles on its head as it reflects upon kink and internalised shame reincarnated as pride. Elsewhere the ice cool ‘Landslide’ is a Requiem for a Dream about the addiction of being in a band; ‘The Void’ explores co-dependency and estranged relationships; and carefully selected samples revive house track ‘Just A Kid’ from the band’s early incarnation. Passenger’s every direction is to face challenges head on. “That is what’s so great about horror; you can see through predictable patterns so when the unexpected occurs it's more realistic and uncomfortable… I want to own the dark stuff!”

As for Passenger’s first single, the pulsating ‘Ascension’ is a spiralling deep dive into death, suicide, and legacy around who or what we leave behind. A noughties club banger by way of NYC beats - ergonomically designed for those who like to stay out a little too often and too late - it throbs like a house party’s partition wall as the literal levelling up undergoes a neon transformation; blue glitching to pink, diffusing the white construct of the Nightbus Matrix. “It really does feel like the end of something and was purposely written that way,” they say, “the ascension is like a firework going off!”

With wheels in motion, Nightbus has become a movement surpassing sonic realms. Between shows from Porto to Brighton taking in The Great Escape, Rotterdam’s Left Of The Dial and Paris’ Supersonic; DJing; remixing; guesting (BDRMM’s Microtonic album); and even enlisting talented like-minds to craft a 3-part queer coming-of-age music video series which ties in with a new ‘hyperpop’ phase in the evolution of their popular Nightbus Soundsystem club night, heads are now being turned from sports brands to high-end fashion designers. “There are things we can’t reveal just yet,” tells Olive, “but we’re excited about the direction this beast we’ve created is heading.” As the album philosophises and asks one ultimate question; what does it truly mean to be ‘Passenger’? Nightbus may not claim to offer a definitive answer, but it might make you feel a bit better about those demons.

A critique and embrace of self-destruction, esoteric vanity and inevitable ruin. The molten-red LP on Riot Season Records plunges deep into an abuse of distortion, existential doom and primal Stooges-like chaos. LA’s Acid Punk Power Trio returns to its mark 1 line up, now wielding a second addition in twin-drum assault
OVER-GAIN OPTIMAL DEATH are :Jasso : Guitar/ Vocals, Luna : Bass, Backhaus + TJ : Twin Drums
Jasso (guitar/vocals) is seemingly out for blood on this 4 track studio album, leading a violent dive into the abyss, Japanese Underground fury meets Hendrix’s wreckage, fuzz-drenched wah freak-outs compete against raw punk vocals caught in an endless slap back delay…
OVER-GAIN OPTIMAL DEATH are an Acid Punk power trio formed in 2008 hailing from Los Angeles, and now currently hiding out somewhere in the South of France.
Fronted by guitarist/ vocalist Jasso (Psychedelic Speed Freaks, Antarcticans), they push a special niche product of blown-out extreme psychedelic noise rock. Their sound is enveloped in a total nihilist
"No Hope" atmosphere of heavy lyrics and distortion, mating intoxicating pulsing repetition, hyperactive improvisations and out of body guitar solos.
Resurrecting US 60s punk and acid-riffage from the likes of Blue Cheer, the Stooges, MC5 and live Hendrix Experience, OVER-GAIN OPTIMAL DEATH also draws greatly on the in-the-red sound aesthetic and high energy of the Speed Freak Underground and Hardcore scene of 80s/90s Japan.

Last summer, after living across the country from each other for several years, the four members of Anamanaguchi decided to try something new. Their label Polyvinyl had rescued the famed American Football house from potential destruction, so the band took the opportunity to move in and write together. Over the course of a month, Anamanaguchi – pioneers of hyper-melodic 8-bit rock, whose extraordinary ascent has led them to topping charts with virtual pop star Hatsune Miku and scoring Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: The Game and Netflix’s Scott Pilgrim Takes Off – flipped their typically meticulous digital process on its head. Anyway, the result, is the most personal record of their career. And it's a rock record for the ages.

Recorded straight to tape by Grammy-winning rock producer Dave Fridmann (The Flaming Lips, MGMT, Sleater-Kinney), Anyway united the members around live instruments and lyrics sung by everybody in the band. As Anamanaguchi has always been an instrumental band, the decision to sing suddenly confronted them with the question of what the band’s voice would ultimately be. They explore this newfound power in every song, making it their most emotionally resonant work yet.

Anyway captures a band creatively and personally energized by the experience of four best friends reviving their connection in a disconnected world. On “Rage (Kitchen Sink),” the band confront loneliness and boredom, two epidemics of the digital age that seem to be humanity’s only common bond. The power-pop ballad “Darcie” finds inspiration in small gestures from a local unsung hero, who brightens their lives and allows unforeseen amounts of fun to happen. Taut and dynamic, “Buckwild” is a rock sing-along that serves as the album’s genesis story: a band making an effort to do something new, while accepting the risks that may bring.

USA, Anamanaguchi’s critically-acclaimed second album and debut for Polyvinyl, anticipated a crucial cultural shift in moving from escapist, nostalgic fantasy to a more introspective exploration of digital identity. Described by Pitchfork as the band’s “most emotionally grounded record,” USA laid the foundation for the openness and honesty that defines Anyway. Where USA made sense of life online, their third album Anywayventures into the world outside the front door.

3XL boss and scene hyper-connector Special Guest DJ (aka uon, shy, Caveman LSD) lands on their own label with a debut album of hazed ambient noise and aquatic club anarchitextures, with a patented, heady style bent into new shapes.

For nigh on a decade, Berlin-based American producer, label boss, promoter and DJ Shy has operated at the centre of a scene that's still not fully defined. Their mythical DJ sets, where you're likely to hear precision-tweaked dubstep, dreampop, decelerated rap and dubwise ambient blended into vapour; gives some sense of the vibes at play, and a comb thru their spiderweb of a catalog - as Caveman LSD or uon, as part of Ghostride the Drift, Hoodie, crimeboys, virtualdemonlaxative and Cypher, or as the figurehead of 3XL, Experiences Ltd, xpq? and bblisss labels - further blurs that gist.

They've been caught in the crossfire of Big Ambient, sure, but there's always been something scrappier, sexier and more present going on under the hood. Shy and his network of associates - Huerco, Ulla, Perila, Ben Bondy, Naemi/Exael, Ponteac Streator and Arad Acid, among others - have asserted the interrelatedness of their discrete approaches. So-called "ambient" music doesn't exist in a vacuum, it un-focuses elements that undergird so many more corporeal sounds, and for Shy, their music reflects the druggy, DIY, genre-agnostic ethos of a trans-Atlantic neo-punk underground that exists in some liminal zone between the club, the bedsit and the basement.

Concerned with themes of “anger, sensuality, and dreaming”, the 40 minute roil of ‘Our Fantasy Complex’ frames Special Guest DJ at their most unapologetically oblique and illusive, expanding and contracting between whorls of shoegazing dynamics and extended portions of quasi-speed D&B x dub tech smeared on the mind’s-eye, with a vivid sense of bruised lushness that’s perfused all shy’s work thus far.

Joined by kindred collaborators Ben Bondy, Arad Acid and mu tate, and suspended in agitated bliss by Rashad Becker’s lucid mastering, the results feel out some of 2025’s most considered and distinctive within an amorphous zone that’s become a world unto itself. Ambient music’s fluffier signifiers are swapped out for a sort of sublime tension that, like the sound’s original ‘90s explosion, can be heard to reflect states of altered consciousness - both individual and collective.

Shy's layered, undulating productions are more like the chewed remnants of a thousand mixtapes cooked into a stream-of-consciousness hex. Save for the glistening, zoomed-out parting piece ‘Dream’, it all mostly avoids pretty melodies in favour of a spatio-textural sensuality that wraps us up, sometimes uncomfortably intimately, in shy’s thoughts. That oneiric closer is one of three gritty palate cleansers that swirl around its peaks, where elements of Reese-bass are suspended, writhing below looming atmospheric pressure in ‘How Long Can I Burn?’, emerging charred and flecked with rattled percussion on ‘Yoro (pt I & II)’, as though K-holing thru a blazing summer’s day.

In step with Perila’s notably darker turn of events on her ‘Omnis Festinatio Ex parts Diaboli Est’, album, or the unexpected ferocity of recent Space Afrika live shows, it’s not hard to hear a darkside gravitational pull on this one, where ambient music is no longer just a balm for troubled souls, but also suggestive of humanity’s most frightful odours.

Chicago-based composer/producer Joey Meland makes music under the moniker Cocojoey. Treating genre conventions and ostensible barriers between disparate musical vocabularies like playthings to gleefully smash and reshape at will, Meland channels decades of experience as a polymathic professional musician adept in styles like metal, jazz, synthpop, and experimental sound design into their infinitely combinatory compositions. STARS, their first album on Hausu Mountain, follows the self-released COCOJOEY’S WORLD with a spellbinding burst of heart-on-sleeve self-expression. The album finds Cocojoey indulging their most adventurous impulses in production and technical instrumental performance, launching into a constantly morphing program that contrasts day-glo earworm hooks against cathartic moments of screaming intensity. Cocojoey’s music exudes warmth and finger-wagging mischief as it exhumes the depths of their psyche with the pure-hearted goal of making their audience smile — when those listening find a chance to breathe within the ecstatic overstimulation.

The album’s tightly constructed song cycle blasts the listener with moment after moment of novel juxtaposition, both in terms of genre and emotional energy, that keep us reeling in a state of delirious whiplash. Warp-speed piano solos over bossa nova-inflected chord progressions segue into detonations of death metal that front-load Meland’s ferocious screaming vocals and meticulously programmed double-kick drum patterns. A strain of iridescent prog emerges in the sheer overload of notes and ideas, as drum n’ bass breaks collide with labyrinthine multi-time signature keyboard lines and bright flashes of clean vocals. Despite whatever contrasting styles might hit within any given Cocojoey song, Meland returns again and again to the upheaval and release provided by extreme metal — though that idiom lands with joyful exuberance, an abrasive yet heartwarming flavor whose positive energy carries through even to those who might not encounter screams and hyper-technical drum breakdowns in their typical listening regimen.