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Never released before. French computer music recorded by Fabrice Luquet and Stéphane Bodin (aka Fa Fane > Delodio) in 1989 when they met in Poitiers (fr) at art school, using only an Amiga 500 computer and a tape recorder machine.

Now, following great acclaim for Volume 1, CTR is proud to unveil another equally eclectic Post-Punk Era Selection Compiled by Jason Boardman ( Before I Die Records) Celebrated Manchester club-night curator & record Label Owner , DJ & digger - supreme.

A second compilation of late 1970s / early 1980s Post-Punk era bedroom & small studio innovations & DIY Inspirations - Featuring more rarely & never heard cuts from that period. Including tracks from the enigmatic Prana, Blank Students, Janet Armstrong & The Native Hipsters ..A rich vein .

Jason Writes Of Volume 2 :
"It was a delightful shock that No Ones Listening Anyway Volume One was so well received - thanks to everyone one who bought & enjoyed it. This led to John asking me to collate Volume Two, so here it is.

This time all the material was recorded & released in the UK between 1978 & 1984.

I was conscious that there was minimal female energy on Volume One so have tried to rectify that here on Volume Two. I have also tried to make it as varied as possible with none hit wonders, oddities, collectables, under the radar B-sides & a couple of previously unreleased on vinyl selections."

White vinyl. Signed Print Edition. When Jack Tatum began work on Life of Pause, his third full-length to date, he had lofty ambitions: Don't just write another album; create another world. One with enough detail and texture and dimension that a listener could step inside, explore, and inhabit it as they see fit. "I desperately wanted for this to be the kind of record that would displace me," he says. "I'm terrified by the idea of being any one thing, or being of any one genre. And whether or not I accomplish that, I know that my only hope of getting there is to constantly reinvent. That reinvention doesn't need to be drastic, but every new record has to have its own identity, and it has to have a separate set of goals from what came before." What came before: a rightfully acclaimed, much beloved display of singular pop craftsmanship. Tatum's dreamy, unexpected 2010 debut, Gemini, was written while he was still a student at Virginia Tech University. Its equally disarming follow-up, 2012's Nocturne, marked the first time he'd been able to bring his bedroom recordings into a studio, to be performed and fully realized with the help of other musicians. There has been a set of wonderfully expansive EPs in between_each hinting at new directions and punctuating previous ideas_but with Life of Pause, Tatum delivers what he describes as his most "honest" and "mature" work yet, an exquisitely arranged and beautifully recorded collection of songs that marry the immediate with the indefinable. "I allowed myself to go down every route I could imagine even if it ended up not working for me," he says. "I owe it to myself to take as many risks as possible. Songs are songs and you have to allow yourself to be open to everything." After a prolonged period of writing and experimentation, recording took place over several weeks in both Los Angeles and Stockholm, with producer Thom Monahan (Devendra Banhart, Beachwood Sparks) helping Tatum in his search for a more natural and organically textured sound. In Sweden, in a studio once owned by ABBA, they enlisted Peter, Bjorn and John drummer John Ericsson and fellow Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra veteran Pelle Jacobsson, to contribute drums and marimba. In California, at Monahan's home, Tatum collaborated with Medicine guitarist Brad Laner and a crew of saxophonists. From the hypnotic polyrhythms of "Reichpop" to the sugary howl of "Japanese Alice" to the hallucinogenic R&B of "A Woman's Wisdom," the result is a complete, fully immersive listening environment. "I just kept things really simple, writing as ideas came to me," he says. "There's definitely a different kind of `self' in the picture this time around. There's no real love lost, it's much more a record of coming to terms and defining what it is that you have_your place, your relationships. I view every record as an opportunity to write better songs. At the end of the day it still sounds like me, just new."

How do losers dance? According to Helmut, almost weightlessly, with soft feet, warm gestures, sometimes alone, sometimes together. Content Creatures, Helmut's fourth album, evokes the pop archetype of the "beautiful loser", who had almost disappeared from view in so-called late capitalism. In a present in which even suffering is often similarly instrumentalised and tailored to clicks like a competitive sport, this album sets a counterpoint: those who listen to it suddenly want to be enchanting losers again, useless and joyfully messing up, losing something beloved, having their hearts broken, giving up a dream, sinking into beauty.
You don't sink alone. Comforting harmonies envelop you, the voices of friends appear, accompany you for a while and then disappear again. Warm grooves, floating synths and delicate guitar lines characterise an indie sound that remains open and breathes.
Self-produced for the first time in his home studio in Neukölln, 'Content Creatures' sounds thoughtful and light at the same time. The album will be released digitally and on vinyl on 10 April 2026 on Berlin-based label St.Vladimir. There are four songs on one side and four songs on the other. The cover is adorned with an exceptionally pretty guinea pig. Helmut shows the special in the seemingly ordinary: a child's pet, the most ordinary of all, is his cover star and headstrong protagonist.

Wie tanzen Verlierer? Wenn man nach Helmut geht, dann fast schwerelos, mit weichen Füßen, warmen Gesten, manchmal allein, manchmal gemeinsam. Content Creatures, Helmuts viertes Album, evoziert den Pop-Archetypus des "beautiful loser", der im sogenannten Spätkapitalismus fast aus dem Blick geraten war. In einer Gegenwart, in der sogar das Leid oft ähnlich durchinstrumentalisiert und auf Klicks getrimmt ist wie ein Leistungssport, setzt dieses Album einen Kontrapunkt: Wer es hört, möchte auf einmal gern wieder ein bezaubernder Verlierer sein, nutzlos und freudvoll abkacken, etwas Geliebtes verlieren, das Herz gebrochen bekommen, einen Traum aufgeben, in Schönheit versinken.
Man versinkt nicht allein. Tröstende Harmonien legen sich um einen, die Stimmen von Freundinnen tauchen auf, begleiten einen ein Stück weit und verschwinden wieder. Warme Grooves, schwebende Synths und feine Gitarrenlinien prägen einen Indie-Sound, der offen bleibt, atmet. Erstmals in seinem Neuköllner Homestudio selbst produziert, klingt "Content Creatures" bedacht und leicht zugleich.
Das Album erscheint digital und auf Vinyl am 10.04.2026 auf dem Berliner Label St.Vladimir. Es hat vier Songs auf der einen und vier Songs auf der anderen Seite. Das Cover ziert ein außergewöhnlich hübsches Meerschweinchen. Helmut zeigt das Besondere im scheinbar Gewöhnlichen: Ein Kinderhaustier, das normalste von allen, ist bei ihm Coverstar und eigensinnige Protagonistin.

How do losers dance? According to Helmut, almost weightlessly, with soft feet, warm gestures, sometimes alone, sometimes together. Content Creatures, Helmut's fourth album, evokes the pop archetype of the "beautiful loser", who had almost disappeared from view in so-called late capitalism. In a present in which even suffering is often similarly instrumentalised and tailored to clicks like a competitive sport, this album sets a counterpoint: those who listen to it suddenly want to be enchanting losers again, useless and joyfully messing up, losing something beloved, having their hearts broken, giving up a dream, sinking into beauty.
You don't sink alone. Comforting harmonies envelop you, the voices of friends appear, accompany you for a while and then disappear again. Warm grooves, floating synths and delicate guitar lines characterise an indie sound that remains open and breathes.
Self-produced for the first time in his home studio in Neukölln, 'Content Creatures' sounds thoughtful and light at the same time. The album will be released digitally and on vinyl on 10 April 2026 on Berlin-based label St.Vladimir. There are four songs on one side and four songs on the other. The cover is adorned with an exceptionally pretty guinea pig. Helmut shows the special in the seemingly ordinary: a child's pet, the most ordinary of all, is his cover star and headstrong protagonist.

Wie tanzen Verlierer? Wenn man nach Helmut geht, dann fast schwerelos, mit weichen Füßen, warmen Gesten, manchmal allein, manchmal gemeinsam. Content Creatures, Helmuts viertes Album, evoziert den Pop-Archetypus des "beautiful loser", der im sogenannten Spätkapitalismus fast aus dem Blick geraten war. In einer Gegenwart, in der sogar das Leid oft ähnlich durchinstrumentalisiert und auf Klicks getrimmt ist wie ein Leistungssport, setzt dieses Album einen Kontrapunkt: Wer es hört, möchte auf einmal gern wieder ein bezaubernder Verlierer sein, nutzlos und freudvoll abkacken, etwas Geliebtes verlieren, das Herz gebrochen bekommen, einen Traum aufgeben, in Schönheit versinken.
Man versinkt nicht allein. Tröstende Harmonien legen sich um einen, die Stimmen von Freundinnen tauchen auf, begleiten einen ein Stück weit und verschwinden wieder. Warme Grooves, schwebende Synths und feine Gitarrenlinien prägen einen Indie-Sound, der offen bleibt, atmet. Erstmals in seinem Neuköllner Homestudio selbst produziert, klingt "Content Creatures" bedacht und leicht zugleich.
Das Album erscheint digital und auf Vinyl am 10.04.2026 auf dem Berliner Label St.Vladimir. Es hat vier Songs auf der einen und vier Songs auf der anderen Seite. Das Cover ziert ein außergewöhnlich hübsches Meerschweinchen. Helmut zeigt das Besondere im scheinbar Gewöhnlichen: Ein Kinderhaustier, das normalste von allen, ist bei ihm Coverstar und eigensinnige Protagonistin.

On and on, the beat goes on. Sound System culture plays a huge part in the history of House music, shaping Mysticisms, its founders and the music it brings into the spotlight. Continuing the dive into that history, in all its forms and permutations, Tranquil Elephantizer’s 1995 classic Zombie Dawn is reissued here in its original form.

A name that has been getting noticed on recent releases for the likes of legendary San Francisco collective Wicked Records and Manchester’s cult Red Laser label, the project has, in fact, been around for several decades.

Morphing out of the late 80s Acid House revolution, members Alexis Worrall, brothers Caspar and Darius Kedros and focal point, David Jenkins aka DJ Shakra came together in the South London melting pot of free parties and DIY anything is possible ethos.

Born of a collaboration between the short-lived Camberwell Butterflies project – featuring Alexis Worrall and DJ Shakra amongst others – and the Kedros’ bothers downtempo/trip hop forbears Slowly. With a shared label, on the ground-breaking Chill Out Records, and Thursday late-night encounters at London’s legendary Megatripolis club, they decided to pool studio resources and Tranquil Elephantizer was born.

Mixing lo-fi 808 heavy analog jams of the Butterflies, with the studio sophistication from the Slowly crew, sparked something new and Zombie Dawn was the first result. Local producer Crispin J Glover dropped by the studio, riding high with his Caucasian Boy project’s hypnotic Northern Lights (featuring DJ Shakra on Roland 303) – recently out on Strictly Rhythm – he offered to remix both Zombie Dawn and the Slowly album cut No Slo Dub for release on his own Matrix label and an underground hit on the London and West Coast 90s party scene was born.

Coming in the original “Saxmental Mix”, alongside Glover’s storming “Nu Dawn Club Mix” Zombie Dawn was a correlation of the past, present and future in one record. The history of British House can be heard in the bumpin’ nature of the beats, the sharp hats encompassed around dub overtones that give it added warmth. The slightly quirky, left field touches of the tracks, set against the then weekly overload of sharp US imports, brought the mix of influences from the Tonka and Sugarlump Sound Systems they had partied and been involved with, on to vinyl, adding touches of jazz keys and disco’s heritage for good measure.

A bedfellow for the emerging UK House sound coming on the likes of Luxury Service (Rob Mello / Zaki Dee), Other (A Man Called Adam / DJ D) and Nuphonic (Faze Action / Idjut Boys), that shaped and defined London clubs and far beyond. Some 30 years later, with a new album on the way, here is debut Tranquil Elephantizer’s release, remastered especially for this reissue, ready to bring that optimistic thinking back.

Tranquil the Mystery.

Born and raised in the birthplace of House Music, Paul Johnson was known for his raw, soulful, and infectious sound, that helped shape Chicago's house scene and inspired generations of DJs worldwide in particular he was a massive inspiration to Daft Punk and the 'French Touch' scene.
Releasing a vast amount of music throughout the 1990s for some of the most consistently underground dance labels including legendary Chicago imprints Cajual, Relief and Dance Mania he finally gained global fame with his 1999 hit “Get Get Down,” a dancefloor anthem that topped charts across Europe. Despite facing physical challenges, including losing both legs in accidents, he remained an unstoppable force in music—touring, producing, and uplifting others with his resilient spirit and signature groove.
Re-pressed for our 35th anniversary, Paul Johnson’s classic 1995 debut album on Peacefrog, Bump Talkin is a timeless showcase of Paul’s signature deep, soulful house sound, blending irresistible peak-time, piano-driven anthems with a playful touch of bouncy Ghetto House energy.
They dont make em like this anymore...
RIP Paul Johnson.

“Released on Joe Boyd’s Hannibal label here was a band rooted in Thompson/Swarbrick Fairport but also a snatch of the Velvet Underground and a sprig of The Byrds. The Eighteenth Day Of May evoked a legendary era, and now they are a justifiably legendary band too.” – KLOF Mag

Beginning life as a trio in London, 2003, the original line-up consisted of Allison Brice (vocals, flute), Richard Olson (acoustic guitar) and Ben Phillipson (guitar, mandolin) before expanding the following year to include the rhythm section of Mark Nicholas (bass) and Karl Sabino (drums, autoharp) and finally Alison Cotton (viola).
This being the mid zeros, the independent music scene in the UK was reluctant to embrace a sun-dazed folk band but this, their sole album, has gradually feathered a bed of affection amongst international folk fans. Twenty years on, the album is now rightfully seen as a trailblazer for the myriad alternative/psych folk bands that emerged in its wake.
Andy Childs who signed the band originally takes up the story. “I first heard their music on a cover mounted CD with the much missed Comes With A Smile magazine and as far as I could tell no-one was making music like this anymore, certainly not with such panache and confidence. To my jaded ears it all sounded so uninhibited - old weird folk songs, Americana, original psych-folk, minimalist drones. Great melodies and all six of them could sing! A joyous, unfettered sound that could in one moment conjure up flashes of The Byrds and then effortlessly the spirit of Velvet Underground would drift through. They even covered a Spacemen 3 song. I loved the fact that they had the aplomb to tackle traditional folk songs like Lady Margaret and Flowers In The Forest and not be afraid to stamp their own identity on them.
Signing them to the Hannibal label was straightforward. If anything the album somehow sounds fresh and undated, even better than it did in the day when perhaps eclecticism was out of synch with the times; its subtleties have become more apparent.”
“Their rendition of Lady Margaret builds to a headswirling crescendo that challenges anyone who claims Shirley Collins, Buffy Sainte-Marie or Trees have recorded the definitive version and the hallucinatory The Waterman’s Song To His Daughter raises an already brilliant album to an unholy level” - IT’S PSYCHEDELIC, BABY Magazine

UILTY RAZORS, BONA FIDE PUNKS.



Writings on the topic that go off in all directions, mind-numbing lectures given by academics, and testimonies, most of them heavily doctored, from those who “lived through that era”: so many people today fantasize about the early days of punk in our country… This blessed moment when no one had yet thought of flaunting a ridiculous green mohawk, taking Sid Vicious as a hero, or – even worse – making the so-called alternative scene both festive and boorish. There was no such thing in 1976 or 1977, when it wasn’t easy to get hold of the first 45s by the Pistols or the Clash. Few people were aware of what was happening on the fringes of the fringes at the time. Malcolm McLaren was virtually unknown, and having short hair made you seem strange. Who knew then that rock music, which had taken a very bad turn since the early 1970s, would once again become an essential element of liberation? That, thanks to short and fast songs, it would once again rediscover that primitive, social side that was so hated by older generations? Who knew that, besides a few loners who read the music press (it was even better if they read it in English) and frequented the right record stores? Many of these formed bands, because it was impossible to do otherwise. We quickly went from listening to the Velvet Underground to trying to play the Stooges’ intros. It’s a somewhat collective story, even though there weren’t many people to start it.
The Guilty Razors were among those who took part in this initial upheaval in Paris. They were far from being the worst. They had something special and even released a single that was well above the national average. They also had enough songs to fill an album, the one you’re holding. In everyone’s opinion, they were definitely not among the punk impostors that followed in their wake. They were, at least, genuine and credible.

Guilty Razors, Parisian punk band (1975-1978). To understand something about their somewhat linear but very energetic sound, we might need to talk about the context in which it was born and, more broadly, recall the boredom (a theme that would become capital in punk songs) coupled with the desire to blow everything off, which were the basis for the formation of bands playing a rejuvenated rock music ; about the passion for a few records by the Kinks or the early Who, by the Stooges, by the Velvet mostly, which set you apart from the crowd.
And of course, we should remember this new wave, which was promoted by a few articles in the specialized press and some cutting-edge record stores, coming from New York or London, whose small but powerful influence could be felt in Paris and in a handful of isolated places in the provinces, lulled to sleep by so many appalling things, from Tangerine Dream to President Giscard d’Estaing...
In 1975-76, French music was, as almost always, in a sorry state ; it was still dominated by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. Local rock music was also rather bleak, apart from Bijou and Little Bob who tried to revive this small scene with poorly sound-engineered gigs played to almost no one.
In the working class suburbs at the time, it was mainly hard rock music played to 11 that helped people forget about their gruelling shifts at the factory. Here and there, on the outskirts of major cities, you still could find a few rockers with sideburns wearing black armbands since the death of Gene Vincent, but it wasn’t a proper mass movement, just a source of real danger to anyone they came across who wasn't like them. In August 1976, a festival unlike any other took place in Mont-de-Marsan – the First European Punk Festival as the poster said – with almost as many people on stage as in the audience. Yet, on that day, a quasi historical event happened, when, under the blazing afternoon sun, a band of unknowns called The Damned made an unprecedented noise in the arena, reminiscent of the chaotic Stooges in their early adolescence. They were the first genuine punk band to perform in our country: from then on, anything was possible, almost anything seemed permissible.

It makes sense that the four+1 members of Guilty Razors, who initially amplified acoustic guitars with crappy tape recorder microphones, would adopt punk music (pronounced paink in French) naturally and instinctively, since it combines liberating noise with speed of execution and – crucially – a very healthy sense of rebellion (the protesters of May 1968 proclaimed, and it was even a slogan, that they weren’t against old people, but against what had made them grow old. In the mid-1970s, it seemed normal and obvious that old people should now ALSO be targeted!!!).
At the time, the desire to fight back, and break down authority and apathy, was either red or black, often taking the form of leafleting, tumultuous general assemblies in the schoolyard, and massive or shabby demonstrations, most of the time overflowing with an exciting vitality that sometimes turned into fights with the riot police. Indeed, soon after the end of the Vietnam War and following Pinochet’s coup in Chile, all over France, Trotskyist and anarcho-libertarian fervour was firmly entrenched among parts of the educated youth population, who were equally rebellious and troublemakers whenever they had the chance. It should also be noted that when the single "Anarchy in the UK" was first heard, even though not many of us had access to it, both the title and its explosive sound immediately resonated with some of those troublemakers crying out for ANARCHY!!! Meanwhile, the left-wing majority still equated punks with reckless young neo-Nazis. Of course, the widely circulated photos in the mainstream press of Siouxsie Sioux with her swastikas didn’t necessarily help to win over the theorists of the Great Revolution. It took Joe Strummer to introduce The Clash as an anti-racist, anti-fascist and anti-ignorance band for the rejection of old-school revolutionaries to fade a little.

The Lycée Jean-Baptiste Say at Porte d’Auteuil, despite being located in the very posh and very exclusive 16th arrondissement of Paris, didn’t escape these "committed" upheavals, which doubled as the perfect outlet for the less timid members of this generation.
“Back then, politics were fun,” says Tristam Nada, who studied there and went on to become Guilty Razors’ frontman. “Jean-Baptiste was the leftist high-school in the neighbourhood. When the far right guys from the GUD came down there, the Communist League guys from elsewhere helped us fight them off.”
Anything that could challenge authority was fair game and of course, strikes for just about any reason would lead to increasingly frequent truancy (with a definitive farewell to education that would soon follow). Tristam Nada spent his 10th and 11th unfinished grades with José Perez, who had come from Spain, where his father, a janitor, had been sentenced to death by Franco. “José steered my tastes towards solid acts such as The Who. Like most teenagers, I had previously absorbed just about everything that came my way, from Yes to Led Zeppelin to Genesis. I was exploring… And then one day, he told me that he and his brother Carlos wanted to start a rock band.” The Perez brothers already played guitar. “Of course, they were Spanish!”, jokes their singer. “Then, somewhat reluctantly, José took up the bass and we were soon joined by Jano – who called himself Jano Homicid – who took up the rhythm guitar.” Several drummers would later join this core of not easily intimidated young guys who didn’t let adversity get the better of them.

The first rehearsals of the newly named Guilty Razors took place in the bedroom of a Perez aunt. There, the three rookies tried to cover a few standards, songs that often were an integral part of their lives. During a first, short gig, in front of a bewildered audience of tough old-school rockers, they launched into a clunky version of the Velvet Underground's “Heroin”. Challenge or recklessness? A bit of both, probably… And then, step by step, their limited repertoire expanded as they decided to write their own songs, sung in a not always very accurate or academic English, but who cared about proper grammar or the right vocabulary, since what truly mattered was to make the words sound as good as possible while playing very, very fast music? And spitting out those words in a language that left no doubt as to what it conveyed mattered as well.
Trying their hand a the kind of rock music disliked by most of the neighbourhood, making noise, being fiercely provocative: they still belonged to a tiny clique who, at this very moment, had chosen to impose this difference. And there were very few places in France or elsewhere, where one could witness the first stirrings of something that wasn’t a trend yet, let alone a movement.

In the provinces, in late 1976 or early 1977, there couldn’t be more than thirty record stores that were a bit more discerning than average, where you could hear this new kind of short-haired rock music called “punk”. The old clientele, who previously had no problem coming in to buy the latest McCartney or Aerosmith LP, now felt a little less comfortable there…
In Paris, these enlightened places were quite rare and often located nex to what would become the Forum des Halles, a big shopping mall. Between three aging sex workers, a couple of second-hand clothes shops, sellers of hippie paraphernalia and small fashion designers, the good word was loudly spread in two pioneering places – propagators of what was still only a new underground movement. Historically, the first one was the Open Market, a kind of poorly, but tastefully stocked cave. Speakers blasted out the sound of sixties garage bands from the Nuggets compilation (a crucial reference for José Perez) or the badly dressed English kids of Eddie and the Hot Rods. This black-painted den was opened a few years earlier by Marc Zermati, a character who wasn’t always in a sunny disposition, but always quite radical in his (good) choices and his opinions. He founded the independent label Skydog and was one of the promoters of the Mont-de-Marsan punk festivals. Not far from there was Harry Cover, another store more in tune with the new New York scene, which was amply covered in the house fanzine, Rock News (even though it was in it that the photos of the Sex Pistols were first published in France).
It was a favorite hang-out of the Perez brothers and Tristam Nada, as the latter explained. “It’s at Harry Cover’s that we first heard the Pistols and Clash’s 45s, and after that, we decided to start writing our first songs. If they could do it, so could we!”
The sonic shocks that were “Anarchy in the UK”, “White Riot” or the Buzzcocks’s EP, “Spiral Scratch” – which Guilty Razors' sound is reminiscent of – were soon to be amplified by an unparalleled visual shock. In April 1977, right after the release of their first LP, The Clash performed at the Palais des Glaces in Paris, during a punk night organised by Marc Zermati. For many who were there, it was the gig of a lifetime…
Of course, Guilty Razors and Tristam were in the audience: “That concert was fabulous… We Parisian punks were almost all dressed in black and white, with white shirts, skinny leather ties, bikers jackets or light jackets, etc. The Clash, on the other hand, wore colourful clothes. Well, the next day, at the Gibus, you’d spot everyone who had been at this concert, but they weren’t wearing anything black, they were all wearing colours.”

It makes sense to mention the Gibus club, as Guilty Razors often played there (sometimes in front of a hostile audience). It was also the only place in Paris that regularly scheduled new Parisian or Anglo-Saxon acts, such as Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits, and Johnny Thunders who would become a kind of messed-up mascot for the venue. A little later, in 1978, the Rose Bonbon – formerly the Nashville – also attracted nightly owls in search of electric thrills… In 1977, the iconic but not necessarily excellent Asphalt Jungle often played at the Gibus, sometimes sharing the bill with Metal Urbain, the only band whose aura would later transcend the French borders (“I saw them as the French Sex Pistols,” said Geoff Travis, head of their British label Rough Trade). Already established in this small scene, Metal Urbain helped the young and restless Guilty Razors who had just arrived. Guitarist for Metal Urbain Hermann Schwartz remembers it: “They were younger than us, we were a bit like their mentors even if it’s too strong a word… At least they were credible. We thought they were good, and they had good songs which reminded of the Buzzcocks that I liked a lot. But at some point, they started hanging out with the Hells Angels. That’s when we stopped following them.”

The break-up was mutual, since, Guilty Razors, for their part, were shocked when they saw a fringe element of the audience at Metal Urbain concerts who repeatedly shouted “Sieg Heil” and gave Nazi salutes. These provocations, even still minor (the bulk of the skinhead crowd would later make their presence felt during concerts), weren’t really to the liking of the Perez brothers, whose anti-fascist convictions were firmly rooted. Some things are non-negotiable.
A few months earlier (in July 1978), Guilty Razors had nevertheless opened very successfully for Metal Urbain at the Bus Palladium, a more traditonally old-school rock night-club. But, as was sometimes the case back then, the night turned into a mass brawl when suburban rockers came to “beat up punks”.

Back then, Parisian nights weren’t always sweet and serene.

So, after opening as best as they could for The Jam (their sound having been ruined by the PA system), our local heroes were – once again – met outside by a horde of greasers out to get them. “Thankfully,” says Tristam, “we were with our roadies, motorless bikers who acted as a protective barrier. We were chased in the neighbouring streets and the whole thing ended in front of a bar, with the owner coming out with a rifle…”
Although Tristam and the Perez brothers narrowly escaped various, potentially bloody, incidents, they weren’t completely innocent of wrongdoing either. They still find amusing their mugging of two strangers in the street for example (“We were broke and we simply wanted to buy tickets for the Heartbreakers concert that night,” says Tristam). It so happened that their victims were two key figures in the rock business at the time: radio presenter Alain Manneval and music publisher Philippe Constantin. They filed a complaint and sought monetary compensation, but somehow the band’s manager, the skilful but very controversial Alexis, managed to get the complaint withdrawn and Guilty Razors ended up signing with Constantin with a substantial advance.

They also signed with Polydor and the label released in 1978 their only three-track 45, featuring “I Don't Wanna be A Rich”, “Hurts and Noises” and “Provocate” (songs that exuded perpetual rebellion and an unquenchable desire for “class” confrontation). It was a very good record, but due to a lack of promotion (radio stations didn’t play French artists singing in English), it didn’t sell very well. Only 800 copies were allegedly sold and the rest of the stock was pulped… Initially, the three tracks were to be included on a LP that never came to be, since they were dropped by Polydor (“Let’s say we sometimes caused a ruckus in their offices!” laughs Tristam.) In order to perfect the long-awaited LP, the band recorded demos of other tracks. There was a cover of Pink Floyd's “Lucifer Sam” from the Syd Barrett era – proof of an enduring love for the sixties’ greats –, “Wake Up” a hangover tale and “Bad Heart” about the Baader-Meinhof gang, whose actions had a profound impact on the era and on a generation seeking extreme dissent... On the album you’re now discovering, you can also hear five previously unreleased tracks recorded a bit later during an extended and freezing stay in Madrid, in a makeshift studio with the invaluable help of a drummer also acting as sound engineer. He was both an enthusiastic old hippie and a proper whizz at sound engineering. Here too, certain influences from the fifties and sixties (Link Wray, the Troggs) are more than obvious in the band’s music.

Shortly after a final stormy and rather barbaric (on the audience’s side) “Punk night” at the Olympia in June 1978, Tristam left the band ; his bandmates continued without him for a short while.

But like most pioneering punk bands of the era, Guilty Razors eventually split up for good after three years (besides once in Spain, they’d only played in Paris). The reason for ceasing business activities were more or less the same for everyone: there were no venues outside one’s small circuit to play this kind of rock music, which was still frightening, unknown, or of little interest to most people. The chances of recording an LP were virtually null, since major labels were only signing unoriginal but reassuring sub-Téléphone clones, and the smaller ones were only interested in progressive rock or French chanson for youth clubs. And what about self-production? No one in our small safety-pinned world had thought about it yet. There wasn’t enough money to embark on that sort of venture anyway.

So yes, the early days of punk in France were truly No Future!

Opsin- the new collaborative alias of longtime friends and producers Keydell and Kincaid - announce their debut LP on wax, Through The Wall, from London-based record label Hypnic Jerks.

Artist Info:

Opsin is the debut project between artists Keydell (Liam Keydell Myers-Cook) and Kincaid (Joe Arthur). The Pair have previously released on the following labels: Well Street Records, Banoffee Pies, Redstone Press & Bliss Print.

Both have extensive work in sound design and collaborated on the soundtrack for Mithridate at London Fashion Week 2024. Kincaid also produced the soundtrack for Alexander Whitley's Anti-Body Ballet.

Release Info:

The album is named after the birthplace of its creation. Sharing files between bedroom walls during COVID-19. Keydell's meticulous Ableton-based resampling of found audio and modular synth racks, and Kincaid's Reaktor-driven synthesis in Logic.

Draws on a wide spectrum of electronic influences the album infuses elements of rave, techno, industrial and ambient sounds, whilst never quite landing in any specific genre.

Second release from London label Hypnic Jerks on 4 sides of 180 gram vinyl, in a gatefold sleeve designed by Jacob Wise and mastered by Rashad Becker.

A followup from their first release - Toumba's debut physical release 'Rosefinch', which saw later releases from Hessle Audio and Nervous Horizon.

Teasing dread atmospheres and zooming in on microscopic details that bring every beat in every bar to life, Seb Uncles returns to Samurai Music with another deep dive into his exquisitely crafted, cinematic progression of the drum & bass tradition.

Even a cursory glance at the Eusebeia back catalogue tells you Uncles is an artist committed to the storytelling promise of breakbeat culture. His work has been heavily tipped towards albums since he first broke through around 2015, and across more than 10 long-players he's cultivated a strong line in moody, evocative jungle and drum & bass more concerned with world-building and subtle detail rather than aggression and intensity.

Following up on his 2023 LP for Samurai, X, on Undertones Uncles applies his signature meditative tones to a broad expanse. There's a consistent sound palette that leans on the warm snarl of monosynth low end and aqueous pads, delicately edited breaks and crisply sculpted synth percussion, but Uncles moves with dexterity around different tempos and structures within this considered sound world. The overarching notion is one of things lurking beneath the surface - a comfortably open theme to be approached and understood from any number of angles. It certainly chimes with the upfront detail and brooding tension that gives the Eusebeia sound such depth.

There are moments of direct drum pressure, such as fierce opener 'Undertones' with its diced-up breaks and icy chords, the boisterous jungle dread of 'Uncover' and chasmic roller 'Root Out', but on the likes of 'Beneath The Surface' and 'Out In The Open' it's the mellow elements that take precedence over the deft drum science. The motion is persistent and nuanced, but it's achieved without deferring to default dancefloor tropes.

'Emergence' marks a pointed shift towards a delicate strain of techno that maintains the album's sound at a mid-paced pulse, focusing on synth shapes and textures to achieve propulsion with only the lightest of drum parts. Alongside the energetic intrigue of Uncles' sonic choices, the melodic make-up of the track is a compelling showcase for his emotionally ambiguous approach, both rousing and chilling in the same curious chord shapes.

From the half-time prowl of 'Lifting The Veil' to the creeping textures and haunted phrasing of 'Brought To Light', Undertones is another stunning exercise in widescreen jungle. It flows naturally from the rich body of work Uncles has cultivated over the past 10 years while carving out its own unique pocket - a reminder if you needed one of the profound sound bedded into the Eusebeia project.

Marie-Pierre Rixain and David Fenech form an unexpected and captivating duo, pushing the boundaries of alternative music. Together, they embark on an unclassifiable sonic journey, blending industrial downtempo, steady kicks, cold percussion, field recordings, and electric guitar feedback. Their music, often dark, carries flashes of warmth inspired by British dub—like an imaginary collaboration between The Bug and This Heat. At times, it echoes the world of La Perversita by Hector Zazou & Co.



Their debut album, Insane Ghosts, due out in spring 2025 on the Parisian label Hublotone, was recorded in 2024 in the intimate privacy of the bedroom. Mixed by David Fenech, it also benefits from the participation of Alexandre Berly (La Mverte) on the track ‘Toi en Moi’, adding a sub and experimental touch. The mastering was handled by the legendary Noel Summerville, whose sonic signature graces iconic albums by The Clash, My Bloody Valentine, Kraftwerk, Aphex Twin, and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds.



The album cover features a striking work by French photographer and filmmaker Antoine d’Agata (Magnum Photos). His poetic and abstract image adds another layer to Insane Ghosts, a project already shaping up to be a must-have for fans of introspective, dark and cold music. Like if Lost in Highway from David Lynch had a new soundtrack.

QUEENDOM is an album that marks a new era for the project while staying true to the essence of Minuit Machine. Produced under the SYNTH RELIGION label, this opus immerses us in Amandine's introspective realm, oscillating between darkness and light, between doubt and self-conquest. While retaining the emotional DNA of previous productions, QUEENDOM stands out with a more pop-oriented touch, featuring tracks where Amandine sings in French for the first time.

The first single, "HOLD ME," is a powerful pop anthem addressed to the queer community, celebrating the freedom to be oneself and breaking free from societal and patriarchal norms. This track is a true empowerment statement, with striking electro beats supporting a strong message of emancipation and pride.

"Créatures," a collaboration between RAUMM and Minuit Machine, is a modern fairy tale—a timeless love story that could take place in any era. This salvific love, rarely seen today, embodies a poignant depth and beauty.

Continuing the journey, "Cent Fois"—a French-written track—takes us into a techno-pop universe with nostalgic yet hopeful undertones. This song perfectly reflects Minuit Machine's evolution toward a more radiant approach while staying faithful to its dark heritage.

"Party People," on the other hand, is a return to roots with dark wave/italo sounds. This hypnotic and haunting track questions identity in an increasingly robotic society, where individuals are forced to conform to imposed norms. This exploration of the individual versus the collective lies at the core of Minuit Machine's DNA.

"Mes Souvenirs," created in collaboration with Rebeka Warrior, dives intimately into the memories of Amandine and Rebeka. Together, they reveal fragments of their past—precious and vibrant memories that resonate through powerful and melancholic electro sounds.

Finally, the eponymous track "Queendom" invites us to plunge into the depths of Amandine's world—a universe that is both tormented and icy, yet resilient. Supported by a slow and captivating rhythm, this track is designed to grip and haunt the listener, like an incantation.

QUEENDOM is a bold and hybrid work where each track reflects a pursuit of sincerity and artistic reinvention while maintaining the ability to express emotions through rhythms that are both danceable and introspective. The album showcases Minuit Machine's artistic maturity, establishing itself as a must-listen in the darkwave and electronic pop scene.

Amandine entrusted the artistic direction of this album to Manon Dupeyrat, a brilliant young artist who crafted a bespoke universe perfectly aligned with the produced tracks. The album cover, both intimate and anachronistic, invites listeners into Amandine's private world through her bedroom, revealing what she wishes to share.

An imperial phase Actress commits a lushly amorphous installation piece made for the Berliner Festspiele to vinyl, rendering a post-industrial symphony full of iridescent shifts in gyring, OOBE-like spatial coordinates landing somewhere between nutopian ambient, kankyō ongaku and sawn-off bass science.

‘Grey Interiors’ was made in collaboration with Actual Objects and is an absorbing animation and navigation of those post-human ideals that have prompted Darren J. Cunningham to his best work across the preceding two decades. In its hypnagogic symphony of the elements, he short-circuits distinctions of classical music’s metric freedoms and the hyperspatial sensuality of concrète/electro-acoustic and ambient musics with an artistic license that has come to distinguish his work in the contemporary field, and arguably identified him as this generation’s most vital electronic abstractionist.

The first half of the album is bewitchingly airless, materialised in a twinkling vacuum. Naturalistic environmental recordings and a half-heard piano swirl around nauseous airlock whooshes and eerie bass drones. It's all pulverised to a powdery, shimmering residue; if Actress's music is defined by its character and texture - that sweet spot between the bedroom and the soundsystem - then this one advances the narrative without losing its backbone. And like a lot of his best work, it comes into its own on the back of zonked eyelids, conjuring a play of shifting geometric patterns within its imaginary physics and nuanced narration of ephemeral melodic phrasing and vaporous textures.

At about the halfway point, that dissociated piano finds its groove, coalescing into a jerky drum machine rhythm popping like bubbles in the stifling atmosphere. We can draw some intersecting lines here thru electronic music lore - traces of vintage AE, Push Button Objects, UR - but Actress always leaves an indelible fingerprint on anything he touches. Even when he's rubbing against the gallery-industrial complex, he manages to fill a stagnant space with electricity and wit; look at the title itself: is it a reference to the "landscape beyond man" as the installation's press release might have us believe, or the institutions themselves?

Benny Howell (aka DJ Subaru) is a UK based producer, DJ and overall promoter of good times who's undoubtedly propelling a new generation of music appreciation with an honourable respect for the earlier beginnings of club culture. Benny Howell might also be the pioneer of a new post-Brexit Eurodance genre, with "Surrender", a catchy Pop oriented production with strong influences from Italodisco and HiNRG, written and produced entirely from scratch with best friend Bella Quirin who co-wrote the lyrics after a break up with her ex. Innocent and charming lyrics over 120's BPM drum machine and a simple melody that you'll be humming in the back of your mind for days to come. Equipped with a Yamaha TX81Z, a few guitar pedals and a makeshift bedroom studio, "Surrender" is the product of a dear friendship between the two music lovers, as per Benny's recount: "Bella came and sung on the track in my bedroom during one of the gaps between Covid lockdowns after I asked her at the pub if she knew any singers and said me of course, and we went from just friends to best friends."
The remix on the B-side by Castro takes a darker turn into what almost sounds like a Techno version with heavy dubbed out effects taking the "Surrender" theme through an unhinged Ketamine flanger vortex. Full cover artwork and mastered at Manmade mastering in Berlin.

I Talk To Water, the fifth album for Kompakt by Danish producer Kölsch, is the artist’s most personal statement yet. While all the trademarks that make his music so popular and powerful are still present – lush, melodic techno; swooping, trance-like figures; sensuous, shivery texturology – I Talk To Water is also a deep and intimate rapprochement with family and history, a beautiful, finely detailed document of loss and memory, and a tracing of the long, unbroken thread of grief that runs through our lives once we’ve lost those we loved.

The emotional core of I Talk To Water, then, is a cache of recordings by Kölsch’s father, Patrick Reilly, who passed away in 2003 from brain cancer. With time rendered elastic by the pandemic and its associated lockdowns, its sudden, alienating shifts in everyday living, Kölsch found himself reflecting on his father’s passing and ongoing spiritual presence, thinking about how best to memorialise such a significant figure in his own life. Those recordings opened a gateway, of sorts, for Kölsch to move through – a way to bring past and present together and entwine them in a sensitive, poetic manner.

Kölsch’s father was a musician – “touring in the sixties and seventies, in the Middle East especially, he was doing the whole hippy trail, playing guitar, and wrote some songs over the years,” he recalls. “But all in all, he decided to focus on family rather than pursue a musical career.” Reilly kept playing and writing music over the years, though Kölsch hadn’t listened to the material for some time: “I’d never had the guts to listen to it, because I just felt too fragile listening to his voice. It’s such a tough thing to go through.”

During the pandemic, though, Kölsch listened through the fragmented body of work that his father had produced over the years. “I decided I’m gonna finally release my dad’s music twenty years after his passing,” he reflects. “This whole album is about the process of loss, and for me it’s been one of my main driving forces in my musical life, the whole emotional aspect of whatever I’ve done has been based in that feeling that he’s not there anymore.”

Recordings of Reilly appear on three songs across I Talk To Water. His guitars drift pensively across “Grape”, offering a lush thread of melody that Kölsch wraps with clicking, driftwood rhythms and droning, melancholy bass. “Tell Me” is a lovely three-minute art song, a sadly beautiful reflection, minimally adorned with gentle keys and a muted pulse. And on the closing “It Ends Where It Began”, Kölsch lets his father’s acoustic guitar take centre stage for a lament that’s unexpectedly folksy, a guitar soli dream, which Reilly originally recorded in 1996. “He actually recorded it for my first album that never came out,” Kölsch reveals, “and I had it sitting around forever. That is purely him.”

These three imagined collaborations between father and son are poised and delicate. But their relationship also marks the gorgeous music Kölsch has made across the rest of I Talk To Water, from the itchy yet lush “Pet Sound” (titled in tribute to one of Reilly’s favourite albums), the flickering synths and yearning vocal samples that slide through “Khenpo”, the ecstatic shuddering that marks “Only Get Better”, or “Implant”’s slow-motion pans and subtle reveals.

There’s also the title song, where Kölsch is joined by guest Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros), singing a mantra for internal reflection: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrell’s appearance brings another timbre, another spirit to the album, aligning neatly with his recent interest in electronic music. “He was completely taken by this idea of talking to water,” Kölsch says, thinking about the ways we collectively lean towards the natural world as a comfort and a listener, a guide through mourning, a way to map out the terrain of the heart. This mapping is something that Kölsch has proven remarkably adept at through the years; dance music for both body and mind, but also both for the here-and-now, and for the hereafter.

“I Talk To Water”, das fünfte Album des dänischen Produzenten Kölsch für Kompakt, ist zweifellos das persönlichste Statement des Künstlers bislang. Während alle Markenzeichen, die seine Musik so beliebt und kraftvoll machen, immer noch präsent sind – üppige, melodische Techno-Tracks; schwebende, tranceartige Elemente; sinnliche, fiebrige Texturen – ist “I Talk To Water” auch eine tiefe und intime Annäherung an Familie und Geschichte. Es ist ein wunderschönes, fein ausgearbeitetes Dokument des Verlusts und der Erinnerung, und es verfolgt den langen, ungebrochenen Faden der Trauer, der durch unser Leben läuft, sobald wir diejenigen verloren haben, die wir liebten.

Der emotionale Kern von “I Talk To Water” besteht aus Aufnahmen von Kölschs Vater, Patrick Reilly, der 2003 an Hirnkrebs verstarb. Durch die Pandemie und ihre damit verbundenen Lockdowns, die plötzlichen, entfremdenden Veränderungen im Alltag, fand Kölsch sich in Gedanken an den Tod seines Vaters und seine fortwährende spirituelle Präsenz wieder. Er überlegte, wie er eine so bedeutende Figur in seinem eigenen Leben am besten verewigen könnte. Diese Aufnahmen öffneten ihm sozusagen ein Portal, um Vergangenheit und Gegenwart miteinander zu verbinden und sie auf sensible und poetische Weise zu verweben.

Kölschs Vater war Musiker – “er tourte in den sechziger und siebziger Jahren, vor allem im Nahen Osten, auf dem Hippie Trail, spielte Gitarre und schrieb im Laufe der Jahre einige Songs”, erinnert sich Kölsch. “Aber alles in allem entschied er sich, sich auf die Familie zu konzentrieren, anstatt eine musikalische Karriere zu verfolgen.” Reilly spielte und schrieb jedoch im Laufe der Jahre weiterhin Musik, obwohl Kölsch das Material lange Zeit nicht angehört hatte: “Ich hatte nie den Mut, es anzuhören, weil ich mich einfach zu zerbrechlich fühlte, seine Stimme anzuhören. Es ist so schwer, das durchzustehen.”

Während der Pandemie hörte sich Kölsch jedoch durch das fragmentierte Werk, das sein Vater im Laufe der Jahre produziert hatte. “Ich beschloss, die Musik meines Vaters zwanzig Jahre nach seinem Tod endlich zu veröffentlichen”, reflektiert er. “Dieses ganze Album handelt von dem Verlustprozess, welcher für mich generell eine der Hauptantriebskräfte in meinem musikalischen Leben ist. Der ganze emotionale Aspekt von dem, was ich getan habe, basierte auf dem Gefühl, dass er nicht mehr da ist.”

Auf “I Talk To Water” sind Aufnahmen von Reilly in drei Songs zu hören. Seine Gitarren ziehen nachdenklich durch “Grape”, bieten einen üppigen Melodiefaden, den Kölsch mit klickenden, treibenden Rhythmen und dröhnendem, melancholischem Bass umwickelt. “Tell Me” ist ein schönes dreiminütiges Kunstlied, eine traurig-schöne Reflexion, minimal geschmückt mit sanften Tasten und einem gedämpften Puls. Und auf dem Abschlusstrack “It Ends Where It Began” lässt Kölsch die akustische Gitarre seines Vaters im Mittelpunkt stehen, ein überraschend folkiger Klagegesang, den Reilly ursprünglich 1996 aufgenommen hatte. “Er hat es tatsächlich für mein erstes Album aufgenommen, das nie veröffentlicht wurde”, enthüllt Kölsch, “und ich hatte es ewig liegen.”

Diese drei erdachten Kollaborationen zwischen Vater und Sohn sind ausgewogen und zart. Aber ihre Beziehung prägt auch die wunderschöne Musik, die Kölsch im Rest von “I Talk To Water” geschaffen hat, angefangen bei dem nervösen, aber üppigen “Pet Sound” (benannt als Hommage an eines von Reillys Lieblingsalben), den flimmernden Synthesizern und sehnsüchtigen Vocal-Samples in “Khenpo”, den ekstatischen Erschütterungen in “Only Get Better” oder den langsamen Schwenks und subtilen Enthüllungen in “Implant”.

Es gibt auch den Titelsong, in dem Kölsch von Gast Perry Farrell (Jane’s Addiction, Porno For Pyros) begleitet wird, der ein Mantra für die innere Reflexion singt: “I talk to water / Searching for myself / Looking for answers / Oceans of you.” Farrells Auftritt bringt eine weitere Klangfarbe, einen weiteren Geist in das Album, der gut zu seinem jüngsten Interesse an elektronischer Musik passt. “Er war völlig fasziniert von der Idee, mit Wasser zu sprechen”, sagt Kölsch und denkt darüber nach, wie wir kollektiv zur Natur als Trost, Zuhörer, Führer durch die Trauer neigen, um die Gelände des Herzens zu kartieren. Diese Kartierung ist etwas, in dem Kölsch im Laufe der Jahre erstaunlich geschickt war; Tanzmusik für Körper und Geist, sowohl für das Hier und Jetzt, als auch für das Leben danach.

GRAILS don’t mince words. Awesomely communicative but entirely instrumental, this dynamic band’s violin, guitars, piano, and drums collide with sober melodies and massive emotion. At alternate moments, Grails can sound vaguely classical, Eastern European, Irish, like the lost tapes of Pauline Oliveros, and, you know, rock. They’re not really like anything else on the Neurot roster, but they’ve got something in common with all the Neurot bands: a commitment to intense music that forges new paths and, yeah, communicates in the most real way possible.
Grails have their fair share of ambient noise - shivery violins, a trickle of a high-hat, the amplified scrape of a guitar string - but their music is based on strong, narrative melodies that resonate in the heart. At times it sounds delicate, but they never cower; Grails ROAR, even when they’re being quiet.
The Burden of Hope is the debut LP, following a pair of self-released, eponymous ep’s in 2000 and 2002. The LP is the culmination of a year’s worth of recordings, including a reinterpretation of Sun City Girls’ classic “Space Prophet Dogon.”
Grails are gathered in Portland, Oregon from Baltimore, Little Rock, Louisville, Chapel Hill, and Reno. As an ensemble, their respective backgrounds in hardcore, classical, folk, and rock blend seamlessly. Formed in late 2000 to execute live the bedroom recordings of guitarist Alex Hall, the once-tentatively-assembled group found unexpected success with both audiences and local press. Originally formed under the moniker Laurel Canyon, the name of the group was changed to Grails to coincide with the release of The Burden

2x180g vinyl plus download code!
We are very happy to present our first album on Ilian Tape. At the beginning of 2014 we moved our two separate bedroom studios into one and soon after started working on the album. All the tracks were made in about 6 months in our new Ilian Tape Space Studio in Munich. The time felt right to focus on this adventure, but without any pressure. Therefore the process became very natural and we felt free to go wherever the vibe led us. Our intention was to create a very personal and honest sound without any limitations or guidelines. It's a reflection of all the years we've been growing up, working, traveling and playing together and it means a lot to us. But enough said music is not supposed to be described with words, so sit back, close your eyes, light one up and turn up the speakers!

“My auntie asked me what’s my path?” spits Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon on his de but from the celebrated Lex Records. The lyric relatably references the cross roads he’s at in his current life, especially as someone right on the cusp of rap stardom. “Recently I’ve been thinking more and more about what comes next in my life,” the artist reveals.


It’s fair to say Ogbon’s Lex LP features less of the sh*t-talking court jester of old. Instead, there’s more of an imperfect man re-examining past mistakes so he can avoid any future forks in the road. There’s a particular focus on over coming heartbreak, inspiring Ogbon to admit he’s haunted by an ex so badly he now needs to call up the Ghostbusters for assistance.


Since emerging in the late 2010s, Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon has consistently lit up America’s underground rap scene and this is thanks to a refreshingly honest writing style. Amid the exquisitely wavy strings of 2021’s The Missing Link / The Sneaky Link, for example, he rapped: “Everyone thinks they’re play er, until their bitch doesn’t come home.” Biting and snappy, the nasally vocals carry the playful verve of comedian Richard Pryor bravely excavating personal Demons to solicit giggles.


All this brash, wry Redman-inspired storytelling continues on the new pro ject. Its first single is titled I’m Signed to Lex, Now I’m Up – a name that mirrors what a big moment releasing a project on the label that once housed MF DOOM represents for Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon’s legacy. “I’m really driven by being able to level up and give my family more financial freedom,” he hopes.
And, if auntie asked what his path was right now, what exactly would the rap per say? Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon concludes: “Auntie: this rapping thing feels like it’s finally about to pay off!”

What's the first thing you think of when someone mentions Thee Oh Sees? Probably their riot-sparking live show, right? Visions of a guitar-chewing, melody-maiming John Dwyer careening across your cranium, rounded out by a wild-eyed wrecking crew that drives every last hook home like it's a nail in the coffin of what you thought it meant to make 21st-century rock 'n' roll? Yeah, that sounds about right. But it misses a more important point-how impossible Thee Oh Sees have been to pin down since Dwyer launched the project in the late '90s as a solo break from such sorely missed underground bands as Pink and Brown and Coachwhips. (While Dwyer still records songs on his own, Thee Oh Sees is now a five-piece featuring keyboardist / singer Brigid Dawson, guitarist Petey Dammit, drummer Mike Shoun and multi-instrumentalist / singer Lars Finberg.) That restlessness extends to everything from the towering, thirteen-minute title track of 2010's Warm Smile LP to the mercurial moods of 2008's The Master's Bedroom Is Worth Spending a Night In. Now, Thee Oh Sees chase the home-brewed symphonies of Castlemania with the scrappy, high-wire hooks of Carrion Crawler / The Dream. Originally envisioned as two EPs, it was cut live to tape in less than a week at Chris Woodhouse's Sacramento studio in June, reflecting the battering-ram bent of the band's live show better than any bootleg ever could. "As I'm sure most would agree," explains Dwyer, "Castlemania was more of a vocal tirade. This one's meant to pummel and throb." That it does, whether one blasts the slow, speaker-bruising build of "The Dream," the sunburnt organs and dovetailing guitars of "Crack in Your Eye" or the interstellar instrumental "Chem-Farmer," a perfect example of what happens when one takes a well-oiled machine-a gang of rabid road warriors, really-and adds a second, groove-locked drum set to the mix. To listen is to realize that Dwyer's music is as manic as the underground comic inclinations of his artwork; colorful and confusing in a way that's more than welcome. It's downright refreshing, like a slap in the face at 5:00 in the morning. Or, as Dwyer puts it, "You have to leave a mark somehow."

Yuvi Havkin aka Rejoicer returns with an exceptional collaborative album, California Space Craft. On this aptly titled record, he joins forces with seasoned LA bass polymath Sam Wilkes — known for his inspired studio work with Sam Gendel and his dynamic live performances alongside Louis Cole and KNOWER — and drummer Tamir Barzilay, completing the LA-connected trifecta alongside a select handful of key featured guests. The idea for California Space Craft was born out of a series of inspired live sessions in Los Angeles between 2019 and 2022, notably at Listen to Music Outside in the Daylight Under a Tree, where the trio’s natural chemistry first began to bloom. The resulting recordings encompass a wide variety of inspired sound stylings, as one would expect from any of these accomplished artists on their own; however, the sum is truly greater than the parts here, with the fluidity of their freeform improvisations over a dedicated three-day recording session feeling remarkably focused as a cohesive whole. Opening track “Traveling Light” sets the LP’s tone with equal parts Sly & Robbie-style, space echo– drenched rhythms and the cozy kosmische, guitar-led feel of early-2000s genre-fluid explorers like Tortoise. As we continue on to “Ritual in G#,” we are reminded that this is indeed a unique and timeless sonic space the trio has created, as Havkin’s crisp Rhodes chords anchor an ever-evolving psychedelic sound bed. The soaring trumpet of Avishai Cohen adorns the Afrobeat-indebted “Lion Water,” with Barzilay laying down a proper Allen-esque groove, while “Further (with you),” featuring Nitai Hershkovits on keys, offers a defining look at the titular concept of the album — with pure Cali feels coalescing effortlessly into sciNew Release Information fi narrative modes and a proper dose of Rejoicer futurism. Elsewhere, “Her Hair in the Air” shines with fresh polyrhythmic intention, illustrating the balanced bond between the three collaborators at their conversational peak, and the brisk synth strokes of “Early Porpoises,” alongside LP closer “Oceanic Friends” — again ideally named — double as a grand, in-stereo ride into the blissful Pacific sunset horizon. California Space Craft embodies the power of open, collective intention and musical kinship, offering memorable, uplifting moments and an aural glimpse of hope, warmth, and loving melodious calm in an otherwise quite chaotic time for humanity.

S urrounded by the DIY-scene around their own self-founded recording label new basement, plainhead tries to introduce an ethos uncommon to the local music landscape in their hometown Munich (DE) and interacts between the boundaries of experimental rock and pop.

You Are More Than A Thousand Words‘ is a romantic gesture dedicated to the stars and the people we hold close to our hearts, a subtle mix of chamber pop, experimental acoustic indie and 00s indietronics.
(FFO: Phil Elverum, The Notwist, The American Analog Set)

8-page lyric / drawing booklet, glossy poster, download card (inc. mp3s), white inner paper bags, sticker on cover.

After 7 strange years of relative silence, and 13 years of being a band, Dog Chocolate have returned with ‘So Inspired, So Done In’. Their fourth album is their most focused, cohesive and song-y yet. They still sound like a bin full of wasps, but now the bin has double-cream or a Viennetta or something at the bottom. While many of the 16 songs on here barely make it past the 3-minute mark, each one is bursting with all the textures and colours of an office cupboard: full of old sweets, fluorescent markers, and multiple ways to fix paper together.

Thematically, a lot of ground is covered, with songs tackling subject matter as diverse as overheard conversations, healing fungal toenails, the Rogerian concept of the Actualising Tendency, bronze age living conditions, dreaming songs into being and human-plant relations. Work (and anti-work) is a recurring theme, as is artistic inspiration and burnout. Dog Chocolate revel in the mundane and incidental, to explore bigger, existential questions. Recorded and mixed by POZI’s Toby Burroughs and mastered by Sofia Lopes, ‘So Inspired, So Done In’ charts a long and confusing period in the band’s collective life, marked by major life changes, losses and shifts, colouring the band’s trademark frantic, daft and anxious energy with a contemplative glaze. Dog Chocolate continue to investigate their internal and external landscapes with playful curiosity, frustration, silliness and empathy.

Pre/history of the band: In the early 2000’s Andrew (vocals), Rob (guitar, vocals) and Matthew (guitar, vocals) played together as teenagers in South-East London-based maximalist, costumed surrealist punk band Yeborobo. They met drummer Jonathan playing with his instrument-swapping masked band Limn at art space Utrophia in Deptford. Later, when both bands had split, Dog Chocolate formed with a shared desire to make a band that was simpler than their theatrical past: small amps and light guitars, no more than 2 drums at any one time, a keyboard no longer than a ruler and a shared ethos… “it’s about giving a shit, but at the same time not giving a shit, but not ‘whatever’, not giving up never!”. The band floated the term “pencilcase punk” to describe their jumbled, colourful, dense and instant music.

Dog Chocolate built on this early scrappiness, bedding into their sound over several albums. Their first “Or” (2014) was a split with Ravioli Me Away, soon followed by “Snack Fans” (2016) and “Moody Balloon Baby” (2018). Along the way they played gigs with bands as wide ranging as Deerhoof, No Age, Dry Cleaning, Palm, Daniel Wakeford, Shopping and Pozi.

With a tendency to converse with each other both lyrically and musically cultivated over many years, the members of Dog Chocolate bounce off each other, respectfully disagree, try to make each other laugh and share some of their most vulnerable feelings with each other. ‘So Inspired, So Done In’ is their own unique offering during these unsteady times: a language of friendship translated into songs.

Das vierte Album und Sub Pop-Debüt von Lala Lala, alias Lillie West, ist ein kraftvoller, warmer und mit Ohrwürmern gespickter Indie-Pop-Kracher für Fans von Jay Som, Porches, Dehd, Angel Olsen und Alex G. Lillie West hat ihre Musik immer aus dem Bedürfnis heraus gemacht, ständig in Bewegung zu sein. Als sie aber kürzlich den Wunsch verspürte, sich niederzulassen, hat sie gemerkt, dass Beständigkeit Kreativität fördern kann. Diese Entwicklung ist der Antrieb für einen Großteil ihres neuen Albums "Heaven 2". Viele Jahre lang lebte West in Chicago, wo sie Lala Lala als Teil der Indie-Szene der Stadt etablierte und mehrere Alben auf Hardly Art veröffentlichte. Diese Alben, "The Lamb" und "I Want the Door to Open", waren kraftvolle Statements einer neugierigen Künstlerin: eingängige Gitarren-Pop-Songs über das Feststecken in den Höhen und Tiefen des Lebens, den Kampf, nüchtern zu bleiben, die Stadt zu verlassen, sein Leben in die Luft zu jagen. West verließ Chicago, um nach mehr zu suchen, und schrieb dabei ihr neues Album "Heaven 2". Auf ihrer Reise landete sie in New Mexico, wo sie in Taos fernab der Zivilisation lebte. "Es war sehr herausfordernd, eiskalt und voller giftiger Tiere. Aber es ist immer noch der schönste und magischste Ort, an dem ich je gewesen bin, und ich träume ständig davon", sagt West. Anschließend zog sie nach Island, wo sie zwei Jahre lang mit Unterbrechungen lebte, wobei sie die Unterbrechungen in London verbrachte, wo sie aufgewachsen war. Schließlich kam sie nach Reykjavik, wo sie sich in der Musikszene einlebte und ein Instrumentalalbum ("If I Were A Real Man I Would Be Able To Break The Neck Of A Suffering Bird") veröffentlichte, bevor sie nach Los Angeles ging, wo sie sich verliebte und sich niederließ. L.A. ist ein guter Ort zum Leben, schon allein deshalb, weil, wie West sagt: "Wo auch immer du hingehst, dort bist du. Ich wünschte, es gäbe eine coolere Art, das auszudrücken." Zum Glück gibt es die: Dieses Thema, überall Schönheit und Erfüllung zu finden, zieht sich durch "Heaven 2". In ,Even Mountains Erode" singt West: , "There are symbols and signs, you're missing your life". West ermutigt sich selbst und uns, langsamer zu werden. Innezuhalten und den Duft der Blumen zu genießen. West hat das Album zusammen mit Melina Duterte von Jay Som produziert, die mit ihrer kraftvollen Stimme einen starken Kontrast zu Wests warmem, rundem Gesang bildet. Die Beziehung zwischen den beiden war telepathisch, und das Ergebnis ist ein mutiges und selbstbewusstes Album. Duterte und West spielten fast alle Instrumente des Albums selbst, mit ein paar wichtigen Gästen wie Sen Morimoto am Saxophon im Eröffnungstrack "Car Anymore" und einer Bridge, die Aaron Maine von Porches für den Titeltrack ,Heaven 2" geschrieben hat. Bei "Catharsis" geht es nicht nur um den Schmerz, sondern auch um die Befreiung, die man erlebt, wenn man sich davon befreit. Und so gibt es auch Momente kühner Freude auf dem Album. "Arrow", das Samples der französischen Electro-Pop-Band La Femme enthält, ist schnell, und seine Schnelligkeit und Freude fühlen sich an, als würde man auf etwas zulaufen und nicht davonlaufen. "None of this was supposed to happen", singt West. Aber es ist passiert. "Es ist so eine grundlegende spirituelle Sache", sagt West, ,Widerstand ist die Wurzel allen Leidens, und ich dachte, ich könnte den Verlauf meines Lebens bestimmen." Natürlich konnte sie das, wie alle anderen auch, nicht. Wohin man auch geht, man ist immer da.

Loaded with tension and anchored by bold textural and stylistic contrasts, Sam Slater’s third solo full-length finds the British sound artist, composer, and engineer grappling with his creative contradictions head-on.

Having spent a life time in bands and producing records, Sam transitioned somewhat by accident through his work with Johan Johansson into working as a composer on high profile projects such as his collaboration with Hildur Guðnadóttir on the Grammy Award-winning Joker and Chernobyl, and with Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Mstyslav Chernov on the soundtrack to the lauded 2000 Meters to Andriivka. Having a vast set of interests and influences is an asset when helping realise a directors vision for a soundtrack, but one's own musical voice can end up being constrained. In Lunng, Slater has gone back to his wildly divergent range of influences and rather than shy away from the extremes, he's used them to create a singular vision.

Take the opening track “Heatsick”: Slater imagines an extravagant fusion of 2000s drone metal and vintage British brass, welding ear-splitting overdriven drones and blown-out choral vocals to stirring trombone swells from veteran player Hilary Jeffery. On paper, it’s hard to imagine—but Slater’s intentionality conducts these polarizing elements into a surreal blur of sonic extremes, with the guitars’ relative harshness softened by Jeffery’s eerily nostalgic colliery echoes.

His last solo album, I do not wish to be known as a Vandal (Bedroom Community, 2022), showcased this breadth by assembling a team of collaborators including Sam Dunscombe and Yair Elazar Glotman. On this record he’s linking up with acclaimed multi-instrumentalist Maria W. Horn, idiosyncratic sax virtuoso Bendik Giske, versatile percussionist Adam Betts, and the aforementioned Jeffery, Slater ushers these players toward a lattice of calculated confutations.

Working to explore the tension between the divergent practices of his collaborators—Lunng was meant to be challenging. On “Praya”, Giske’s familiar overblown horn phrases are almost vaporized, vanishing among Slater’s weightless synths and Horn’s chillingly hoarse vocals. There are traces of Horn’s Funeral Folk project, but Slater shifts the emphasis, letting her voice brush past the other elements like a hallucination.

Slater’s use of extremes isn’t just in the micro; dynamics drive the album’s overall flow. “Praya” sets the stage for the record’s heaviest, most prickly moment: “Passengers”. Here, Horn’s voice cracks, rasps, and gurgles over serrated synths and Betts’ ritualistic drums. Slater turns an industrial symphony into a folk opera—dark, dramatic, and strangely beautiful—etched with Giske’s fluttering phrases.

But the mood soon shifts. Slater careens toward chaos, unleashing double-time rhythms and piercing textures familiar to anyone with a soft spot for classic black metal. These grotesque incongruities are deliberate; Slater surveys years of musical conflict and leans in, using dissent as fuel to build kinetic energy.

The weight of sentimentality bears down on “Black Metal Rewind (Night Drive Astra, 2006)”, melting teenage memories into hypnagogic ambience—shoegaze dreams whirled with angelic choral delusions. On “Death by Nostalgia, 1688”, he ventures further into polarizing territory, distorting AutoTuned voices with cryptic strings and medieval tonalities, unsettling any stable sense of past or present.

In this record Slater focuses on pure energy, color, and mood. Lunng distills years of listening into a bracing brew—boiling each sound down to its essence, then serving it with unflinching intent.

John Twells, 2025

"Melodic, dreamy bedroom pop with a nostalgic sheen" is how Tom Davies, creator of brand new dream-pop artist Flopsy's dream, describes this charming little album.
Some of you may know him as GeoWizard; the mad British adventurer/YouTuber who travels in straight lines, but here you get to see or indeed hear a completely different side to him - one that sings in soft, tuneful tones reminiscent of Damon Albarn or Ray Davies, builds ethereal, layered harmonies that wouldn't sound out of place on a Fleet Foxes track, and crafts gorgeous guitar and synth parts that could easily have come straight out of John Frusciante or Kevin Parker's handbook.
Written in a young Davies's bedroom between the years of 2008 and 2014, the songs themselves are far from brand new, but with the help of his good friend and writing partner Liam Rhodes (with whom he played in Birmingham Psychedelic outfit "Kinds of light"), Davies has brought these sentimental tracks to life whilst keeping them bang in line with their original vision.
The result is an album that doesn't really fit into any specific genre, in fact you could argue it's just regular old generic pop, but there's an innocence and a playfulness in there that disarms the listener and transports them to a simpler time when melody ruled supreme.

“My auntie asked me what’s my path?” spits Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon on his debut from the celebrated Lex Records. The lyric relatably references the cross roads he’s at in his current life, especially as someone right on the cusp of rap stardom. “Recently I’ve been thinking more and more about what comes next in my life,” the artist reveals.


It’s fair to say Ogbon’s Lex LP features less of the sh*t-talking court jester of old. Instead, there’s more of an imperfect man re-examining past mistakes so he can avoid any future forks in the road. There’s a particular focus on overcoming heartbreak, inspiring Ogbon to admit he’s haunted by an ex so badly he now needs to call up the Ghostbusters for assistance.

Since emerging in the late 2010s, Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon has consistently lit up America’s underground rap scene and this is thanks to a refreshingly honest writing style. Amid the exquisitely wavy strings of 2021’s The Missing Link / The Sneaky Link, for example, he rapped: “Everyone thinks they’re player, until their bitch doesn’t come home.” Biting and snappy, the nasally vocals carry the playful verve of comedian Richard Pryor bravely excavating personal Demons to solicit giggles.

All this brash, wry Redman-inspired storytelling continues on the new project. Its first single is titled I’m Signed to Lex, Now I’m Up – a name that mirrors what a big moment releasing a project on the label that once housed MF DOOM represents for Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon’s legacy. “I’m really driven by being able to level up and give my family more financial freedom,” he hopes.
And, if auntie asked what his path was right now, what exactly would the rapper say? Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon concludes: “Auntie: this rapping thing feels like it’s finally about to pay off!”

Waiting is the essence of travel. Patience is its own reward.

Two people. A Telecaster guitar with a few effect pedals. A drum machine. An audio interface is connected to a laptop. The ingredients are simple yet effective.

But any suggestion of four-track cassette machines and vintage bedsit productions is quickly dispelled by digital dubbiness and refined arrangements. A tail of reversed echos. The crystalline flourish of octave-pitched delays. Riddled hi-hats tickle and taunt. A bass drum asserts its space.

Winkler's guitar patterns have a fragmented, almost haphazard connotation. Searching in a shimmer of reverb. Until the beat, the framework, sets in to reveal structure. Intentionality. Reihse's programmed rhythms go just to the point of a groove, holding the moment of tension, knowingly delaying the gratification. Beats that have scratchy patina anda subtly playful edge; their crispness stands in contrast to the contemplative drift of the guitar. Is it a trance? Or a dance? Yes.

There are some apparent references here: a good portion of Les Disques du Crépuscule, some kraut-esque electronica, even a smidgen of Morricone / Spaghetti Western, blending into a kind of Musique Noir – yet these serve as a set of orientational coordinates, rather than quotations.

This is so far the most assured release by Periode, perhaps eschewing some of the naiveté that was wilfully cultivated in earlier output – there is no cheeky cover version this time. And no singing either. The nine pieces have the quality of a series, a variation on a mood, or a subset of moods. What emerges is an inviting swagger in the face of bleakness. There is a profound melancholy, but it is not the darker kind, and does not exclude humour.

First impressions may suggest that this is purely nocturnal music. Yet it equally evokes the harsh sunlight and baking summer heat. Or a rainy day. And transportation: the music suggests the motion of travel, even if that travel only happens within the mind. And waiting. Waiting while doing nothing much. Because that's all you can do. (Alexander Paulick)

The Swedish underground legends return with a brand new album. Let this reddit user take over …
“Listening to Brainbombs has been one of my weirdest experiences with music. Brainbombs are most definitely a band. I guess at the core they’re a hardcore punk/noise rock hybrid I guess? But… It's so unlike anything I’ve ever heard and I still don’t know if it's good or bad. I saw the edgelord Ed Gein album cover, and it intrigued me, so I listened to their biggest song and it was easily THE WORST thing I had EVER FUCKING HEARD. I shut it off as soon as it got to the vocals. I was shocked by the fact that it had almost a half million streams. But, a few hours later, I clicked on it again and didn’t know why.
Over the past few days, I’ve listened to all of their discography and looped a lot of it. And I don’t even think I like them. The music is abysmal, it's the same single riff and verse repeating for 5 minutes. To make it worse, the vocals are just a guy with a swedish accent awkwardly talking about murder and rape. That sounds awful right? It is awful. But at the same time I want to keep listening? It’s so childishly edgy and obnoxiously repetitive but so.. intriguing? Catchy? I’m not even sure. It's one of if not the weirdest experience I’ve ever had with music and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

Mathew takes inspiration from the weirdness of Aldous Harding and Amen Dunes while embracing the songcraft of greats like Neil Young and Jeff Buckley. Due for release on 3rd October 2025 via Tip Top Recordings (Mandrake Handshake, Japanese Television, Pearl & The Oysters), EP 'Full Weight' is a six track offering of emotionally driven, lyrically agile, eccentrically produced indie- rock. Released on limited edition (300) heavyweight white coloured vinyl.

Mathew's journey began with a childhood guitar and quietly grew into a private archive of hundreds of songs, never meant for anyone but himself. After stints with local outfits The Velotones and Violet May, he broke away to carve out his own space, one where every note and word belonged to him. Stepping into the studio with friends and trusted collaborators, he found the freedom and confidence to let the world in. The result is 'Full Weight', a bold new chapter in Mathew's musical story. '5:32' is the natural way to introduce Mathew's gloriously unique voice and songwriting, evoking Sheffield's musical royalty such as Richard Hawley.

As the single artwork depicts, '5:32' was conceived by Mathew "in bed, during COVID, eating cereal and taking my meds. As Thom Yorke once said, 'no one is really a solo artist'". The surging, cathartic anthem 'Weight Of Love' is about a simple case of unrequited love. Mathew says, "In my case, it's a story of my dad leaving. The cover artwork is of me and my brother around the age he left" . Further tracks like 'Lady Luck' lean into a slowburning groove of shimmer and snarl, while the fully exposed 'Creature Of Comfort' is built on skeletal instrumentation. 'Full Weight' captures the duality of refusing to choose between fragility and force. It's music that aches, bleeds, and ultimately triumphs: a testament to the strength in showing your cracks. Mathew J Hall celebrates the EP with a live show on 24th October at Hallamshire Hotel, Sheffield.

A key label on the Berlin scene since the 1990s, Muller Records—famed for a deep and chunky club sound from artists like Dave DK, Claude Young and The Hacker—is back with a new EP from Beroshima feat Rummy Sharma with remixes from Namito and Pascal Hetzel. Beroshima, of course, is the production work of label Frank Muller sometimes accompanied by ethereal electronic music specialist Ulrich Schnauss. After more than twenty years together they have amassed a fine body of work that includes five albums and more than a hundred Eps!

Always mixing up acid, techno and tribal into something fresh, the Beroshima sound has its own unique signature.... For this latest single Muller steps up solo to produce another gem. The stellar Delhibelly is a slick and muscular cut that bubbles away on a bed of warming bass.... Smeared pads add soul and snares flap about like tin foil in a breeze. It's a futuristic cut that will always pack a punch in any context. The Techno Mix is just as soulful but is quicker and more expansive so as to carry dancers away on an uplifting groove. Namito is a Green Horn Records producer from Iran but based in Berlin. He is another veteran who is as relevant as ever and his mix slows things down to a deep, inviting roller with jazzy perc, absorbing synths and kinetic kicks driving things along in style. Finally Pascal Hetzel, fresh from his super CYRK release with Sierra Sam, completes this sterling great package.

His classy remix is another rounded affair full of warm synths and bass that is sure to keep energy and emotional levels high in any set. Once again here Muller Records have concocted a club ready record that both DJs and dancers will love.

Recital releases The Holy Restaurant, the new full-length album by Derek Baron, and their first solo LP since Curtain (Recital, 2020).

The album is built from years of miniature transcriptions of improvisations, functioning in many ways as a sister to Curtain. Half-thoughts and mistakes are revisited, gilded, and illuminated. The floorboards of the album are laid with piano, organ, string pads, while serrated accruements (distortions, flourishes, and recording interferences) step and drop overhead. The resulting conflux, as Baron notes in the accompanying booklet “becomes the point and the problem to explore.”

The second track “Oven Girls” opens with us galloping on a horse in some video-game meadow on a bed of MIDI strings. Abruptly, a helicopter soars over us and we transition to a latticed guitar and woodwind exploration. The album rolls on in this fashion, juxtaposing musical half-sentences within a museum of sounds rag-picked from history and daily life. Emotional interviews with Midwestern friars who build and sell caskets are set against gothic piano and guitar duets. On “Music in the Casket,” A disorienting and hilariously epic guitar solo erupts. The penultimate titular piece, “The Holy Restaurant,” sets a text written by Baron’s grandfather. A small chorus voices his words, echoing the humanistic storytelling of “Blue” Gene Tyranny’s A Letter From Home. Under sunlit piano progressions, a fleet of smokey trumpets emerges.

Running throughout the album is a series of “traces”: short melodic phrases painted over again and again with different real and MIDI instrumentation. The “luxurious asceticism of doubling” as Baron puts it. They explain, “Part of the allure for me is that the ‘original’ material is itself kind of thin, sketchy, meaningless, maybe calling attention to itself only by way of a felicitous mistake. Hearing, transcribing, and learning what was basically only ever played first on accident becomes the guiding concern.”

The album’s shifting, variegated forms and voices pass quickly; the record feels both comforting and elusive, suitable for any hour of the day.

The Holy Restaurant features guest players Ed Atkins, Lucy Liyou, Quentin Moore, Emily Martin, Dominic Frigo, Jacob Wick, and several of Baron’s family members. It is released in a limited edition vinyl pressing of 200 copies, accompanied by a booklet of effusive program notes by the composer, alongside an assemblage of photographs, scores, and artwork.

"Clouds In The Sky They Will Always Be There For Me", das vierte Album von Porridge Radio, wurde Anfang 2024 in Somerset vom langjährigen Big Thief- und Laura Marling-Tontechniker Dom Monks aufgenommen und ist ein Moment des Erwachsenwerdens, inspiriert von Burnout, der Musikindustrie, Herzschmerz und der zunehmenden Vertiefung der Bandleaderin Dana Margolin in ihr eigenes Handwerk als Künstlerin. Margolins rücksichtsloser, sich selbst hinterfragender Schreibstil wird auf dem gesamten Album durch die bisher ergreifendste Musik der Band ergänzt, die sich geduldig aufbaut und tragisch intensiv ist. "Alle Songs begannen als Gedichte, ich wollte mich selbst herausfordern", sagt Dana Margolin über das Werk, aus dem "Clouds In The Sky They Will Always Be There For Me" wurde. "In einem Song kann sich der Autor immer hinter den Tricks der Musik und altbekannten Techniken wie Wiederholungen verstecken. In einem Gedicht hingegen sind es nur Worte und das war's." "Vieles auf diesem Album handelt von einer frenetischen und verzweifelten Art von Liebe, es geht um den völligen Verlust meines Selbstbewusstseins in einer Beziehung und um den tiefen Rest von Unsicherheit und Schmerz, der eine neue Beziehung trübte." Lieder, die als Liebeslieder geschrieben wurden - wie "In A Dream I'm A Painting" - bekamen neue Bedeutungen, als Margolin die Lieder mit einer neuen Distanz betrachtete. "Es gab eine Menge Liebe und Verwirrung, alles durchsetzt mit Erschöpfung und Schmerz." Die Clouds-Sessions fanden in Frome statt, als der Winter zu Beginn des Jahres 2024 in den Frühling überging. "Es gab ein paar Zusammenbrüche", grinst Dana, eine faire Einschätzung der Aufnahme solch intimer und persönlicher Songs, "nach einigen Takes brach ich einfach auf dem Boden zusammen, so aufgebracht war ich." Es wurde ein Umfeld geschaffen, in dem Dana sich ausdrücken konnte und in dem sie gefördert wurde. "Wir hatten jeden Abend diese großen gemeinsamen Mahlzeiten", sagt sie, "es fühlte sich sehr eng und fürsorglich und warm und besonders an. Unser kleines Haus lag auf einem großen Hügel, ein Fluss floss hindurch, es war groß und hell und schön", erinnert sich Dana. Das Studio selbst war hell - voller strahlendem natürlichem Licht aus den großen Fenstern, ein Segen für Musiker, die an die abgeschottete Welt der meisten Aufnahmestudios gewöhnt sind, und zum ersten Mal konnten alle im selben Raum wie der Produzent aufnehmen. "Es fühlt sich an, als hätten wir zum ersten Mal etwas gemacht", erklärt sie und freut sich hörbar über das Album, "es hat etwas von unserer Freundschaft eingefangen und von der Art und Weise, wie wir gelernt haben, zusammen zu spielen. Ich liebe die Songs, ich liebe es, sie zu spielen, sie sind nicht alt geworden und es fühlt sich an, als wäre es etwas Besonderes." Eine Pause. "Es hat mich so viel gelehrt. Deinem Bauchgefühl zu folgen, auf deine Freunde und ihre Loyalität zu vertrauen, darauf zu vertrauen, dass du mit Leuten richtig kämpfen kannst. So will ich leben, so will ich Platten machen, denn Platten machen ist mein Leben, denn meine Arbeit ist mein Spiel, mein Job ist mein Leben. Alles ist in dieser Sache miteinander verbunden, und es gibt Wege darin, die mich nicht umbringen."

Es gab eine Zeit - nennen wir sie Saturn-Rückkehr, nennen wir sie die frühen 90er Jahre, nennen wir sie den letzten Atemzug, bevor das Internet alles verschlang - als wir von den Zero Boys uns plötzlich einer ganz anderen Art von Feuer gegenüberstanden. Wir waren aus unserer Hardcore-Haut herausgewachsen - nicht aus Ablehnung, sondern aus einer Weiterentwicklung heraus. Wir waren unruhig. Songs kamen nicht mehr in Ausbrüchen purer Geschwindigkeit; sie verdrehten sich, dehnten sich aus, stellten Fragen. Struktur war nicht mehr der Feind. Wir ließen die Songs atmen, und im Gegenzug erzählten sie uns Dinge, die wir nicht erwartet hatten. Die hier versammelten Songs aus ,Make It Stop" (1991) und ,The Heimlich Maneuver" (1992) fangen diesen Moment ein. Diese beiden Alben, die innerhalb eines Jahres entstanden sind, sind Dokumente einer Zeit, in der wir unserem Instinkt folgten - die Grenzen unseres eigenen Sounds ausloteten und persönliche spirituelle Erkundungen durch den Fuzz und die Wut hindurchflochten. Es war nicht religiös. Es war eine Suche. Der Versuch, das Selbst im Lärm der Welt zu finden. Der Versuch, ehrlich über Verwirrung, Widerstand und die Teile von uns selbst zu sprechen, die nicht so einfach in Slogans oder Genres passen. Damals wussten wir, dass wir uns veränderten, aber wir wussten nicht, in welche Richtung. Jetzt, Jahrzehnte später, offenbart das Zurückhören etwas Klareres. Diese Songs - textlich, musikalisch, emotional - fühlen sich heute dringlicher an als damals. Die politischen Aussagen sind gut gealtert, was sowohl ein Triumph als auch eine Tragödie ist. Was wir in einem Moment kreativer Verbrennung geschrieben haben, klingt jetzt wie Warnsignale - über Institutionen, über Gewalt, über das stille Bedürfnis nach Sinn unter all dem. Also ja, ,Playback is Hell". Aber nicht die Hölle der Qualen. Die Hölle des Feuers. Die Hölle der Transformation. Die Hitze der Erinnerung und Bedeutung, die plötzlich wieder aufsteigt. Danke fürs Zuhören - damals, heute und in Zukunft. - Paul Mahern, 2025

"Dunya", der Titel von Mustafas meisterhaft ausgearbeitetem und atemberaubend zärtlichem Album, bedeutet aus dem Arabischen übersetzt so viel wie "die Welt mit all ihren Fehlern". Ein hochtrabendes Thema für einen jungen Songwriter, aber wie bei jedem Thema, das im Mittelpunkt der Arbeit des sudanesisch-kanadischen Künstlers steht - von religiöser Hingabe bis zu Kindheitstraumata, von Bandengewalt bis zu romantischer Intimität - nähert er sich durch eine persönliche Sichtweise. Er mischt Genres und Stimmungen, verwebt romanhafte Details in einprägsame Folksongs und hat ein Album geschaffen, das sich wie eine Reihe persönlicher Durchbrüche anfühlt, die einer nach dem anderen eintreffen. Was zuerst an Mustafas Musik auffällt, ist seine Art zu schreiben: ein einfacher, durchdringender Ton, der jede Geschichte so roh und ernsthaft wirken lässt wie die Worte eines Liebesliedes. Mit seinem leisen Vortrag, der seine Umgebung zum Schweigen bringen kann, entwickelte sich Mustafa schnell vom Wunderkind, das in seiner Heimatstadt Toronto Gedichte rezitierte, zu einer Kraft, die hinter den Liedern steht und Popsongs schreibt. Auf "Dunya" ist er zu einem eigenständigen Autoren gereift. "Ich versuche, das gewöhnliche Leben im Ghetto zu bewahren und zu feiern", beschreibt Mustafa seine lyrische Inspiration. Die Songs, in denen er sein Aufwachsen und seinen weiteren Lebensweg beschreibt, sind gleichermaßen entwaffnend in ihrer Einfachheit und vielschichtig in ihrer emotionalen Bandbreite. Durch die Zusammenarbeit mit Aaron Dessner, Rosalía, Clairo, Nicolas Jaar und anderen sowie Mustafas langjährigem kreativen Partner Simon Hessmann offenbart die Musik eine selbstbewusste, unverwechselbare Stimme, die noch nie so massenkompatibel geklungen hat.

Rivet’s new album for Editions Mego is an uplifting and joyous affair coming in the wake of tragedy and disenchantment. It is yet another rebirth from an artist willing to take a step back and reprise the current situation he is in. Mika Hallbäck has a long credible history in the Swedish underground. First recognised for his industrial techno works under the Grovskopa moniker he worked privately on more experimental works that eventually came out as On Feather and Wire, an album released on Editions Mego in 2020. After much acclaim for this bold new direction that blended electronic abstraction, pop and industrial forms into a heavy synthetic trip two tragedies struck. One was the passing of label boss Peter Rehberg and then the passing of his dog Lilo, who was as close as a companion one could have. These events led to the release of the more unsettling follow up L+P-2 (Lilo and Pita minus two) on Midnight Shift Records in 2023. Peck Glamour sees Rivet return to the reawakened Editions Mego with an album of optimism inspired by reconciliation with loss and further explorations of new mental/sonic realms.

Hallbäck defines his approach as not being married to any particular machine, instrument, process or genre. However he holds a particular affinity to sampling, of which, he says, provides the dirt and grit amongst what would otherwise be pristine, generic machine music. The contemporary crate digging method of scouring obscure download music bogs for unique sounds was his preferred research practice.

Peck Glamour is an album full of tracks brimming with the excitement of exploration. It's the results of a mind informed by punk, industrial, techno, dancefloor, disappointment, trauma and rebirth. Here the synthetic and authentic is viewed simply as the same means of human rationale and expression.

The opening, ‘Catch Up to Light’, sets the scene with ecstatic and odd fluorescent vocals sliding amongst crystalline likembe whilst synths swirl amongst the external festivities. ‘Orbiting Empty Cocoon’ is somewhat a homage to the alien sound worlds of The Orb, one which takes the listener deeper into a mind melting array of teased potential as visual elements are executed in a mask of audio wizardry and euphoric staccato rhythms, the later being a nod to Singeli music. ‘Patitur Butcher’ is more dance frontal utilising the Ghatam drum and a YouTube rip of a Chinese language lesson. ‘Plastic Bag Putain’ was made during the beginning of Russia's invasion of Ukraine and should be clear of its intent. ‘All that Heaven Allows’ is a marimba cover of an imaginary Love Parade anthem. 'Kyrie Geire’ potentially briefly fills the void left by the demise of Coil. The entire trip of Peck Glamour is sewn up with ‘We left before we came’ whereby extraneous recordings of double bass player Gregory Vartian-Foss (tuning/strumming/moving the bass) are superimposed with local field recordings to create a gorgeous bed of sounds acting as an exciting exit music to this sharp collection of cinematic ear excursions.