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For the past 20 years, NO FORMAT! has been cultivating the idea of an artisanal and homemade label, supporting artists who stand out with unexpected projects. Its motto, "You never know in advance what you"ll fall in love with", has guided its direction from the outset. Its high standards on the quality of the sound has become its trademark, while one of the mainstays of its work is the development of collaborations between artists from diverse backgrounds. For its 20th anniversary, a new guard of electronically-inspired artists takes over the NO FORMAT catalog for an original remix album, specially created for the occasion. 10 iconic tracks from the label are reimagined by 10 young, talented, emerging and/or established producers, carefully chosen on each track. While Pan-African trio Toto Bona Lokua"s music is reworked by British-Ghanaian afro-bass pioneer Hagan, South African vocal duo Msaki x Tubatsi is reimagined through a remix by amapiano heavy-weight Vigro Deep. Blick Bassy"s delicate Cameroon folk turns into an afro-club anthem produced by Moonshine collective leading figure Vanyfox ; Haitian-American neo-jazz artist Melanie Charles electrifies "Kouzen" by Haitian Canadian singer-songwriter Mélissa Laveaux ; renowned sound artist Sofie Birch transforms Koki Nakano"s delicate piano into an ambient soundscape. Japanese house pioneer Shinichiro Yokota gives a new spin on electro-jazz collective Asynchrone, which was inspired by Ryuichi Sakamoto"s work. "NO FORMAT! Remixed (2004-2024)" is both a celebration of 20 years of music and creation, bringing this beautiful and curated catalog into a vibrant and festive compilation, and a step towards the label"s next 20 years.

Combining the signature soundscapes of Scorn with tartareous textures, the current album "The Only Place" reaches a psychedelic groove, based on what Harris calls "Pushing an original idea further" with his own shades of light and dark and celestial electricity of what SCORN is. These 10 tracks add elements unheard in Scorn since Evanescense and Gyral - ethereal ambiences and floating, near-melodic-but-not-quite moments, a signature of Harris' abilities to generate feelings in a lost world of his own creation. Mick Harris is one of the world's greatest compositional treasures. Starting his career as the energy dynamo behind the drum kit of the UK's Napalm Death, he made the term Blastbeat a household reference, wrote the band's music on his mother's one string guitar, and joined the Guinness Book of World Records for composing the world's shortest song. In the decades succeeding, he has re-inventedmusic several more times, from the wild abstract jazz of Painkiller with John Zorn and Bill Laswell, to the drowning ambience of his Lull project, all while continuing to build a world that he can truly call his own - the dark post-dub of SCORN. "Reaching 54 this year - this won't stop the challenge, driving me more so now than ever" - says Mick Harris, commenting on the recent phase in his creativity. The pandemic isolation and lockdown pushed the work of the maestro more than anything else could have. In 2021, his output is ever-increasing, releasing the newest collabs with Justin K. Broadrick and the single "Distortion", featuring one of the most outstanding voices of hip-hop - Kool Keith - his closest collaborator, Ohm Resistance founder - Submerged. Commenting on the release of "Distortion", Mick Harris said to mxdwn: "I enjoy collabs - they bring something different to the swim." Working on his own and collaborating with everyone from Sleaford Mods' James Williamson, on the previous SCORN release or with Kool Keith and Submerged on "Distortion", Mick Harris never had problems with putting energy into beats and sound landscapes, combining various surreal elements with three basic elements that always push Harris further, that are extremely crucial for both Mick Harris and SCORN as a project - frustration, anger and anxiety. 2024 vinyl version on orange coloured vinyl!

The single features a collaboration between Studio Kosmische from UK and Cloud Canyons from Italy. Side A is a rework by Studio Kosmische of “Under Neon Stars”, a track from Cloud Canyon’s 2023 debut album “Dreaming Of Horses Running In Circles”: by adding a few parts and alchemically blending the original elements of the song - the relentless motorik pulse, the ethereal female vocals, the multilayers of monophonic analogue synths - Studio Kosmische’s version moulds a shrouding and lilting veil on the 9-minutes long original track. Side B features a brand new track, “Black Fruit”, also sprung from the creative dialogue between the two bands and clocking at about 9 minutes side-long. Born as an instrumental piece by Studio Kosmische, “Black Fruit” developed in a full song thanks to the vocal additions by Michelle Cristofori, Laura Storchi and Stella Baraldi (Cloud Canyons’ singers) and a rich yet minimalistic array of instrumental parts by Studio Kosmische’s Dom Keen, who ingeniously shaped the keys harmonies and rhythmic textures around the vocal lines. Accomplished by some subtle electronics treatment by Cloud Canyons’ Nicola Caleffi, “Black Fruit” ideally complements “Under Neon Stars” as a two-sided creature, hanging somewhere between krautrock and electronica.

Ever been hit in the face with a wooden plank stuffed with rusty nails? Me neither, but I imagine the effect would be something like the sensation of having Montreal five-piece Puffer blasted into your eardrums. Put simply, this is the midpoint between hardcore and dirty ol’ rock’n’roll - part Poison Idea going dumpster-diving outside the garages of Melbourne’s punk scene, part Fucked Up playing their X records on a rotary sander. They’re equally at home with a pacy blur of riffs as they are going for a four-to-the-floor stomp; either way, the ragged larynx sits perfectly astride the roar, while the guitars go full Bob Stinson at his too-drunk-to-fuck-up best. You can practically hear the leather jackets creaking between phrases. This is music to move to. So what better place to start with this band than an LP compiling their must-have demo from 2022 and the remarkably excellent self-titled EP that followed in 2023? Originally released by New York’s increasingly-essential hc label Roachleg Records, these two highly digestible bursts of punk’n’roll complement each other perfectly. Whether you get your giddy thrills from the raw-as-hell likes of opener ‘Suffering’, or from the non-more-anthemic, holy-shit-I-need-to-bang-my-skull-against-the-wall double whammy of ‘Sister Marie’ and ‘Hard Way To Go’, you are guaranteed to find something to love here. You could always try hitting yourself with that plank, but you’ll probably find you return to this more often. Drunken Sailor delivers the goods again. Get the fuck involved.

Mermaid Chunky. It's all in a name, sometimes. The danceable, costumed, curiosity rich duo of artists Freya Tate and Moina Moin are as imaginative as they profess. Or, to get more to the point, as we all need them to be. Freya and Moina are two visual artists and musicians from Stroud and South London, places where they importantly found communities (Stroud's SVA and the capital's Total Refreshment Centre) of like minded people just as willing to chase down an idea to its possibly illogical conclusion. And it is in the collective and the idea of participation that Mermaid Chunky really clicks. This is a party, a collective dance, made all the better with more: people, ideas, layers, kick drums, recorders, saxophones, frogs. To wit, the album's first track and first single, "Céilí," named after a traditional Scottish or Irish social gathering and dance, which builds from a simple recorder line into a swelling, warm burst of major chord dance music. Goosebumps or check your pulse. Further down the rabbit hole, "Chaperone" is almost boardwalk electro, like Fischerspooner on a ferris wheel; "Frogsporn" and "Nature Girl" are mucky, trippy dirges filled with stalactites of synth and squelch; "Tiny Gymnast" is a kaleidoscopic waltz into the night. Hold onto your seats, ladies and gentlemen. You might be wondering how we, DFA Records, all the way over in cynical Brooklyn, entered the picture. There was a day a few years ago, sun shining in full Springtime splendor, when James heard something while waiting for a coffee down the street from the office. It sounded simple yet deceptively complex: a dance track, but one where the one - that anchoring first beat in a measure - could be heard a thousand different ways. Frustrated and interested, he Shazamd the song, playing at the shop from an episode of Zakia's Questing show on NTS, and brought it back to the office, where we all listened to it about fifty times. (The song was "Friends," from Mermaid Chunky's VEST EP, released in 2020. It led to an invitation to open for LCD at Brixton Academy in 2022. Mermaid Chunky has also played live alongside The Comet Is Coming, Alabastair Deplume, Snapped Ankles, and many others.) Thus began our search for Mermaid Chunky. A quest it has been and a quest it will always be.

Satya continues its release schedule this November with the Atman EP, a maiden collaboration between label founder YokoO and US talent Atish. The four-tracker continues a standout 2021 for the imprint, which saw its first release land in April of this year.

“Despite having followed seemingly different musical paths over the last couple of years, our passion for ‘moving’ heartfelt music stands at the core and remains aligned. Atish’s initial musical ideas, no matter how much they were transformed, sit at the heart of the EP. They initiated the creative process.” - YokoO.

Proceedings begin with Inner Labyrinth, a gently-building dance cut packed full of ethereal synths and dream-like pads. The title track comes next, manifesting as a similarly celestial number that’s ripe for the early hours, before Words To Say ups the tempo with driving kick-hat combos. Sunrise maestro Sepp rounds off the EP, serving up a stunning remix of the final track that marks itself as a masterclass in stripped-back, minimal house.

France’s YokoO is an esteemed talent in the electronic music scene. Releases on Lee Burridge’s All Day I Dream, as well as his recently-launched Satya imprint, have cemented his reputation for all things deep, emotive and dreamy, whilst performances across all five continents have highlighted him as a truly global artist. Based in New York, Atish has cultivated a devoted following around the world. As co-founder of the Manjumasi record label, he has created an outlet for other artists’ music as well as his own productions and his own work has found a welcome home on prestigious imprints including Anjunadeep, Kindisch, and Stil Vor Talent to name a few.

ERIN Collective is an ensemble of musicians from the Bologna scene born in March 2022 from an idea/project by Gionata Lazzari
shared over time by Valentino Pirino, Filippo Cassani, Andrea Lazzari, Marcello Pala, Federico Magazzeni, Giuseppe Sardina and
Francesco Antico. Their repertoire, inspired by the Afrobeat of the 70s, is composed of original songs written by Pirino/Lazzari and
arranged together with the other members of the group. The style looks to Afrobeat and some of its artists such as Fela Kuti, and
Ebo Taylor, but also focuses on contemporaneity and other artists such as Antibalas, Budos Band, Tony Allen and other sounds from
other areas of Africa. “Alternative Positive”, anticipated by the singles “Kalam Layl” and “Alafia” is their first LP, which follows the
release of the Ep “Same Blood” in 2023 and which marks the meeting between the band and the label Irma Records. The album,
strongly influenced by Afrobeat sounds with funk nuances, contains 8 original songs written by Pirino / Lazzari and arranged together with the other members of the group, three of which are instrumental, 4 sung by the Nigerian artist Devon Miles and one by the
Moroccan artist Reda Zine. The songs on “Alternative Positive” all have a social value: for ERIN Collective, music takes a stand
against inequalities and tries to break down borders and barriers, calling on everyone to commit themselves to rights for peace for
resistance to racism and inequalities of all kinds. All this requires commitment and a choice. Music makes you dance, makes you
smile, raises your spirits, creates bonds. ÈRÍN means smile, laughter in Yoruba language and it is through this attitude that one can
meet the other and that one can defeat fears, borders, cultural differences, hatred and wars. The titles and the meaning of the lyrics
of this debut album recall this horizon.

It’s 2024 and Egyptian-born artist of South Sudanese origin Sam Alfred has had a monstrous 12 months. A new year means stepping in a new zone with new tunes. This is Forward Step.

First is the title track “Forward Step (Journey Mix)”, an epic cow-bell-laden house hammer that blooms into a euphoric flower. Running with a 90’s club flavour, Sam lays airy synths over punchy piano and rave stabs while an all-powerful speech plays out, celebrating the idea that we’re all in control of writing our futures. There’s a bubbling over of excitement on this one as it builds and builds and builds!

Up next is “Care 4 U” – a crunchy drum club roller paired with fuzzy bass tones and a super hooky vocal loop. A section that’s been lodged in our brains from the moment we heard it. Toss in airy pads and a key melody that’s also impossible to forget and this track’s got you hook, line and sinker. In true Sam Alfred style, “Care 4 U” is yet more proof that this lad is a wizard at writing jacked-up club cuts, each full of fizz.

Third in line comes “Keep It” a relentless hypnotic piece of techno. Outer space synths drone while shuddering percussion rumbles beneath. It’s here where the EP takes a darker turn. The curtain closer and focus track for the EP drop is “Distance” – an acidic house track to seriously lock and load to. Characterised by sharp hi-hats and lively keys, as its name suggests this one goes and goes and goes.

Imaginative re-workings and improvisations by Andrew Tuttle of the late great Michael Chapman's unfinished instrumental album. Sonic explorations that bridge the Southern and Northern Hemisphere via the Caribbean, remote Northumberland and sub-tropical Australia. Navigating calm seas and turbulent waters of ambient corals, new-age pirates, waves of lapping banjos and drifting eroding guitars.
When Michael Chapman passed away in September of 2021, at the age of 80, he did so – as he spent much of his life – as both a pioneer and a legend. A veteran of the British blues/folk/jazz scene, Chapman emerged in 1966 and continued working throughout his life, always pushing the boundaries of his creations while collaborating with a slew of similarly heralded musicians along the way: Bert Jansch, Mick Ronson, Elton John, Thurston Moore, Steve Gunn; to name just a smattering of those he worked alongside over the years.
It's the latter of those – Brooklyn guitarist and songwriter Steve Gunn – who Chapman flourished alongside in recent years, the two collaborating on 50 and True North, two of Chapman’s final and finest records. It was through that friendship that Chapman’s music found Andrew Tuttle, the Brisbane-based multi-instrumentalist who has toured Australia several times alongside Gunn.
In the aftermath of Chapman’s passing, his partner Andru discovered Tuttle’s Fleeting Adventure LP, describing it as “one of the albums that kept me sane during that first brutal winter on my own.” The pair met in Australia shortly after, and before Andru had even made it back home to the north of England, Tuttle had begun working on the recordings she shared with him at that time. Those recordings were part of a project Chapman was working on at the time of his death, called Another Fish – what would have been a companion piece to his previously-released LP, simply called Fish.
Though Chapman had spent time in his local studio playing all the guitars, layering the different sounds and effects, he’d always intended to do much more work on the songs, however fate had its way and he never got to ribbon-bow those ideas and bring the album to its conclusion.
Though there was little intention in terms of how to finalise the project, Tuttle spent valuable time with those recordings. What materialised, eventually - with time, care, and diligent attention - is a two-disc set Another Tide, Another Fish, something both unusual and completely distinctive. The first disc, Another Tide is centred around Tuttle’s own work, which shaped all seven of Michael’s songs and ideas into new songs of their own, and the second disc which simply incorporates the recordings that Michael left behind.
“On all of the tracks I also ‘played along’ on banjo to the originals several times until I learned an approximation,” Tuttle continues. “This ended up resulting in a ‘hybrid’, where some works are easily identifiable to those who know Michael’s originals, and some took that inspiration to head altogether elsewhere. Each of the tracks, even where not obvious, does have at the very least a trace element sample of the original recordings so that it’s a true collaboration.”
What we’re left with is indeed a hybrid: part remix album, part cover album, both a solo work and a collaboration, of sorts. Inspired by Chapman’s original ideas and with new track titles directly referencing the numbered but otherwise untitled source material, Tuttle adds his own flashes of colours throughout, including editing, sampling, MIDI transposing and signal processing that twists these songs into beautiful new shapes. Perhaps Tuttle’s greatest achievement here then is that Another Tide sounds so effortlessly free of all this context.
Whether you know Michael’s, Andrew’s or even Andru’s story or not, these recordings will bristle with enchantment and intrigue, worlds are built, and while some thrive and grow, others fizzle out in a burst of light, such is the way. “It's been a long, long road but we got there and I think it's been more than worth it,” Andru says in the record’s liner notes. “I really hope you think the journey was worth it too.”
Guitars and effects by Michael Chapman recorded by Alex Warnes at Phoenix Studio, Brampton, Cumbria, 2017 Banjo, effects and edits by Andrew Tuttle at Bella Vista, Brisbane / Meanjin, 2023-2024

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements - punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones - are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins - Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk - weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act - with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage - and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

Jade Hairpins waste no time fulfilling their second album's titular demand. From its harmony-drenched opening note to its baroque-anthemic conclusion, Get Me the Good Stuff is positively loaded with musical ideas, an absurdist buffet of sound and aesthetic that comes with one hell of a floorshow as the Hairpins stack those ideas higher and higher, almost daring them to crash to the floor. Instead, those elements_punksploitation, power pop, baggy, funk, and Italo disco are just some touchstones_are not only held aloft, they defy gravity and convention. These pyrotechnics are, in true Jade Hairpins fashion, something of a sleight of hand. While the music swaggers and gallops, Get Me the Good Stuff grapples with anxiety and self-doubt, obfuscating pain and alienation with sparkling wit and some straight-up ravers. Get Me the Good Stuff opens with one of those, "Let It Be Me," in which Jonah Falco shouts lyrics about being alone with one's shortcomings against guitars, synths, and harmonized vocals that are on the verge of closing in. The song is just over 90 seconds long, hitting with the gnarled-barb ferocity of punk and the gleeful insanity of theatrical art rock. It is, in other words, overwhelming. Or it would be if Jade Hairpins_Jonah Falco and Mike Haliechuk_weren't remarkably nimble in their ability to bring unity to sounds by placing them in competition against each other. When those sounds are adjacent, like the glam and disco that saturate "Drifting Superstition," the thrill of those universes colliding in the heat of an absolutely filthy clavichord line turns its lyrics, about the habit of solving personal problems by ignoring them, into a winner's anthem on the order of Bowie or Hot Chocolate. Get Me the Good Stuff arcs towards unequivocal joy as Falco, Jade Hairpins' primary lyricist, breaks these cycles and attempts to run away with his dreams. The arc is roughly analogous to how the album came to fruition. Four years removed from Harmony Avenue, an album of material that proved too strong to be contained within the narrative universe of Fucked Up's Dose Your Dreams, Jade Hairpins have gelled as a live act_with Tamsin M. Leach and Jack Goldstein centering them on stage_and planted their flag in the UK punk scene in which Falco has embedded himself. Working out new material live, Falco noticed that crowds were digging into his unfinished lyrics, and the album tightened around the anxieties of being in the spotlight, of being worthy of attention. At times, those songs are eager to please, like the album's title track in which a winking self-deprecation rubs up against the self-congratulatory bombast of Freddie Mercury, Falco simultaneously turning heads as a shooting star and a burning car. Elsewhere, as in "Better Here Than in Love," Jade Hairpins pitch themselves towards creating gorgeous soundscapes that exist nowhere else, channeling postpunk through the glimmering haze of '80s Japanese electronic music. Theatrical and personal, absurd and true-to-life, playful and serious, Get Me the Good Stuff is album of tremendous personal and artistic growth that signposts towards dozens of potential futures to come. It's not only worth the attention, it continuously rewards it.

Tip!

Polido has been fantasizing with the idea of free music throughout his artistic career. Free from restraints, logos, musical genres, but also from this modern obsession with narratives, plans, business plans, algorithms and bubble wrapped ideas for comfort of those of you that can’t breathe without everything making sense.
“Hearing Smoke” has nothing of that. It has been four years since Holuzam released the double album “A Casa e os Cães / Sabor a Terra” and for four years I have been daydreaming about what would come next. This is it, eleven new pieces about the future of the future of music. It is the result of years of study, research and sound consolidation. Sound as matter, mutating, transforming, absorbing all around, a shapeshifting entity connecting with the principles of freedom.

"Polido has been researching Portuguese contemporary composition, its very own sounds and ideas. Its origins, the web of repression, tension and censorship before the April 25th revolution in 1974; secondly, as an afterthought, freedom, equality and a unique sense of community and belonging screaming through the music. He absorbed those states of mind and made an album that listens to the current world and presents globalization as a mental trap.
If the music that inspired him somehow comes from a post-colonial world, “Hearing Smoke” questions how we can create something new in this permanent state of cultural colonization, where new trends or forms of music only thrive if they are accepted by the dominant cultures. The physical world has been transformed, but ideas like “world music” or “ghetto music” still show that dominance, the Strange can only be accepted if it incorporates the rules and codes of that dominant force. What I am saying is that it is hard for Portuguese musicians to present themselves as original. They will never have that credit unless the music relates to something that exists in another

realm. Never for their benefit, but for the power of association. I may sound arrogant here, but Polido is unique, original, one of a kind (all those words, all those redundant synonyms). I knew it four years ago when I got lost in the way “A Casa e os Cães” is assembled and how he makes something memorable out of the most commonplace conversations. “Hearing Smoke” continues the flow and puts us in the centre of these ever evolving masses of sound.
Somehow his music finds you, it starts speaking with you until it asks you to be a part of it. Polido’s beats and harmonics are combined in such a tender way that you mellow out while listening to these beats - thinking of the brilliant “Saque”. Even when he exposes you to something more harsh - “Canto D’Amorte” or the closing moments of the last track “Custa A Crer” - there’s still a cradle effect.
But what keeps me returning to this album is how it seems to transform in my ears. Not every time I listen to it, but while I am listening to it. The sound seems to move, embracing me and controlling my inner thoughts. These start to move along at the same pace, with the same feeling of cloudiness. Nothing new here, the thing is how it feels different from time to time, how the music, because of something that changes or moves, comes as a catharsis/revelation. It drives me nuts how the beats come and go in tracks like “Fogo Firme (Encomendação)” or “The More I Think, The Less I Can Speak“, leaving everything suspended and, simultaneously, relieved. When dramatic - ”Prova De Existência“ - it is sad af and gorgeously epic.

Trap, bass music, dubstep, ambient, hauntology and contemporary music flow side by side here, no pushing around, free of interpretation, and you are free to feel or listen to whatever you want in “Hearing Smoke”. That’s free music for you. Not a hard concept, something for you to enjoy, feel, reflect about. This is what the future will sound like."

André Santos // Holuzam

WE ARE WINTER'S BLUE AND RADIANT CHILDREN (WAWBARC) is the new quartet of Mat Ball (BIG|BRAVE), Efrim Manuel Menuck (Godspeed You! Black Emperor, Thee Silver Mt. Zion), and Jonathan Downs and Patch (both Ada). On "NO MORE APOCALYPSE FATHER" they present six modal lullabies drenched in seared distortion, slathered across striding electronic pulses. Ball and Menuck began creating music in and for the bleakest moments of Montréal winters: "We're honoring that idea of winter, when you come inside and your house is warm, a place that only exists because of how cold it is outside," says Menuck. They later recruited Downs and Patch to flesh out their initial ideas. Menuck met them in 2015 when recording Ada's final album at Montréal's Hotel2Tango _ where they reconvened to make this record. "NO MORE APOCALYPSE FATHER" is an album about witnessing bleakness from a place of safety. Carrying newfound descriptive depth, thanks to the quartet's open-ended songs freeing him from writing in meter, Menuck likens his lyrics to photorealism. On opener `Rats and Roses' he sings of an unnamed city struck by an unknown cataclysm, but the details are local: specifically, his neighbors inadvertently poisoning birds when tackling a rat infestation. It's backed by blown out synths and guitars reaching a soaring crescendo. "Seeing things from a distance and not being able to intervene happens a lot on the record," Menuck explains. "If you're a feeling and thinking person, that's just part of the human condition. We watch horror unfolding from afar, unable to do anything concrete to change it." A powerless witness, able to describe but not intervene. `Dangling Blanket From A Balcony (White Phosphorous)' references Michael Jackson holding his child over a hotel balcony in 2002_the bizarre media spectacle still lodged in Menuck's psyche. This and the album's closing track also elegize white phosphorous, a technology of war designed to light up battlefields but capable of inflicting horrific burns on those it touches. Illumination and horror in one, here underpinning scenes picturesque and terrifying. "The last song `(Goodnight) White Phosphorous' is deliberately like a lullaby," says Menuck. "Written from the viewpoint of watching white phosphorous falling outside your window." Scorched and tarnished and laden with harrowing imagery, "NO MORE APOCALYPSE FATHER" is also a record bathed in light: the bewilderment of hopeful spirits witnessing despair, watching a blizzard of distress unfold outside from a place of relative shelter and comfort. You could call that emotional ambivalence, maybe numbness. But those words are too passive for the weight of conflicted feeling resonating through the album. "I never know how I feel on an overcast day when the sun is still bright despite the grayness and the light is very flat. The colours become more saturated, and you see a single flower, say a morning glory, whose colour is so vibrant beneath the gray, I don't know if that's a lovely sensation or a terrible sensation. It's both," says Menuck.

On Chastity’s upcoming, self-titled fourth record, Williams decided to write a fully non-fiction work. Out Friday, September 13 2024 on Deathwish (US), Dine Alone (Canada), and Big Scary Monsters (UK/E) ‘Chastity’ is a 13-track record about the things that have always run through the band’s records—struggle, death, despair, redemption, darkness, and light—but this time, the songs ascend to new depths of intensity and desperation, new heights of resolution and power. “It’s really about the first nosedive that I did as a young person,” says Williams. “It’s a record about struggle, about the missing years. It’s also a thank you to some people in my life.” The record hurtles through melodic hardcore, shoegaze, and emo, all magnificently and enormously rendered thanks to slick work from John Paul Peters (Propagandhi, Comeback Kid), who engineered and mixed the record. Chastity’s first three full-length records—2018’s Death Lust, 2019’s Home Made Satan, and 2022’s Suffer Summer—formed a trilogy that defined a 4-year arc of the band’s contribution to outsider music. Each record was informed by Williams’ life, but each was also conceptual and interpretive, refracting his experiences through a level of remove. On the self-titled record there’s a beautiful and affirming ending to it’s closer, centered on the band’s first and enduring idea: life is less shitty if we live it together.

returning, dream’ is the second album from Paradise Cinema – the‘Fourth World’ inspired project led by multi-instrumentalist Jack Wyllie (Portico Quartet/Szun Waves). While Wyllie’s other projects move between tightknit electronica, widescreen minimalism and improvised ambient sounds, ‘returning, dream’ contains nods to Jon Hassell, Terry Riley, Don Cherry and Midori Takada as well as more contemporary electronic, ambient and non-western music and even draws inspiration from physics and science fiction.

The first, eponymous, Paradise Cinema record, released in 2020, was recorded in Dakar (Wyllie lived in Senegal for a while in the late 2010s) and featured the dense rhythms of Mbalax music combining with Wyllie’s textural saxophone and synth playing, but here he takes a step into the unknown:

The music is no longer built primarily around the rumbling
propulsiveness of Mbalax, but takes its inspiration from the Many-Worlds Interpretation of quantum mechanics, which suggests that there are many different worlds that branch off from our own. Wyllie explains: “It is an imagining of what music could be like in a different time and space, ancient and futuristic from everywhere and nowhere at once. I was listening to a lot of physics podcasts when I created this record. I loved the many-worlds interpretation of quantum mechanics; about the multiple paths we are taking each time a quantum decision is taken. The different worlds then splitting off like branches on a tree. I could imagine different histories and worlds and multiple versions of myself, others and even other societies existing. In this album I’ve dug into these ideas andattempted to make music that would come from those different spaces, trying to poke my finger through to the other selves and stories. Effectively a form of composed science fiction, the music is an idea of what might be occurring or have occurred on a branch of the tree in a different world. But I like to think the tracks might actually have been composed somewhere or sometime.”

Created in London by Jack Wyllie with additional recordings from Dakar and Sydney, ‘returning, dream’ blends sounds that do not typically live together. It features Khadim Mbaye (sabar drums) and Tons Sambe (tama drums) who provide the dense Sengalese rhythms, plus Szun Waves colleague Laurence Pike, also on drums.

"With their third full-length, Washington, D.C.’s Bad Moves have expanded their founding artistic identity — a candy-coated guitar-pop shell surrounding a bitter lyrical core — by refracting their ideas through a new set of musical forms that weaponize repetition. On the new Wearing Out the Refrain, recorded once again with producer Joe Reinhart (Hop Along, Algernon Cadwallader), Bad Moves propose that the flip side of the delirious harmony of the basement show singalong is the volatile, accusatory antiphony of a community divided by strain, shouting the same desperate hook back and forth at one another.

Bad Moves’ tag-team vocals, which forgo centering anyone one member, also let the traditionally confessional “I” become the “we” of a community, or generation. Witness the ambitious climate change metaphor of “Eviction Party,” which understands the union of sugary pop and genuine angst embodied by 1960s girl-group songcraft, and uses it to expand a personal story to planetary scale. “It’s my eviction, I’ll cry if I want to” Bad Moves shouts, channeling the dawning millennial midlife crisis. The personal may be political, but what if both feel weighed down and trapped in circular, inescapable ruts?"

"Electric Taal Band was a project that came out of the Covid pandemic, a necessity to work alone and some happenstance. I had stumbled on a box of Punjabi records for sale at Bollywood Music Center on Gerrard St. East in Little India -- a store where I had been buying hindi film records for years. I wasn't too familiar with Punjabi music beyond UK Bhangra, took a chance and loved the records; over some time I bought every Punjabi record in the store. I studied the records and bought a tumbi from Kala Kendar, a shop next to the music store that sold instruments. I learned the tumbi from Youtube videos and copying the sounds on the records.

Over time I acquired both a vintage Radel Talometer and electronic Tanpura locally via classifieds and experimented with integrating their sounds into the recordings as well. The basic idea was to take these machines designed for practice, which had their own incredible sound due to technological limitations and apply them to Indian music. Everything I had heard of these machines in recordings and videos only used them in an abstract electronic context. The main intent was and still is to use these sounds in collaboration with South Asian musicians and vocalists in the Toronto area, but this album came from both casual exploration and experimentation with the tools, as well as an inability to collaborate in-person due to pandemic restrictions at the time."

"Kal Marks have never made a record as personal as Wasteland Baby. Though Carl Shane, the band’s vocalist-guitarist, has made a career off of exploring blunt, uncomfortable truths through song, with Wasteland Baby, he steered Kal Marks toward something utterly new. Shane looked inward to stare down a fear that had long plagued him: What would it look like to have a child in a world that looks like this? “The album was driven by the fears I’m having about being a father,” says Shane. “The initial spark was this fear, and I thought that maybe if I could express it, I could overcome it.”

What started out with this simple premise slowly grew into a sprawling, borderline-concept record. It’s no surprise, then, that Kal Marks went deeper and darker than ever before when writing Wasteland Baby. Though, in order to reach that final product, it required the band—bassist-vocalist John Russell, drummer Adam Berkowitz, and guitarist-vocalist Christina Puerto, who is also Shane’s partner—to interrogate every decision they made with exacting detail. ”We were really all on the same page in that we wanted to make something really, really special and that was going to require us putting a lot of ego aside and just trying to serve the songs as best as possible.”

“In an ideal world, Kal Marks will go on forever. But it may be the end of a chapter for a while. I don’t want it to be the end, but there was an element running through the album that maybe could be the end,” says Shane. No matter what the future holds, Wasteland Baby is an emphatic reminder to brush off the things that keep you from truly living and venture into the unknown."

LA-based singer-songwriter Lily Kershaw returns with Pain & More, her new concept album that is a collection of exquisitely heartbreaking, proof-of-life ruminations about existing behind a pall of melancholia. Collectively, they feel like a lifetime of repression, suddenly liberated. Central to Lily’s narratives is the idea that others will probably relate to, or benefit from, her pain. Humbled yet highly melodic, the facetiously named Pain & More is an emotionally tactile album that confronts the many incarnations of the prolonged, persistent depression that has shrouded Lily’s life for decades. It may be her third full-length, but it’s her defining moment -- a vivid, if sometimes uncomfortable, whirl of the angst and hope.Lily released her debut album Midnight In The Garden in 2013, featuring break-out single “As It Seems.” The album scored millions of streams and critical acclaim, and in the following years she landed multiple syncs on shows like Criminal Minds, Grey’s Anatomy, Finding Carter, Ted Lasso and more. She followed it up her 2018 EP Lost Angeles and her 2021 sophomore album Arcadia, which received acclaim from Nylon, American Songwriter, Vulture, Earmilk, Refinery29, CNN and more. Along the way, Lily cut her teeth on tours alongside Radical Face, Mason Jennings, The Weepies, and Joshua Radin, to name a few, and today has amassed more than 80 million streams.