Suche:in transit

Faitiche welcomes a new artist: Christina Kubisch belongs to the first generation of sound artists. Her practice ranges from performances, concerts, to works with video and visual art, but she is best known for her sound installations and electro-acoustic compositions.

TUNING brings together three pieces by Christina Kubisch from different periods of her oeuvre. What they have in common is the way they transform sound phenomena originally considered “non-music” into compositions.

Jan Jelinek: Gaming in Silence (2024) is the most recent work on this compilation. It’s a collage of electromagnetic waves, voice, and abstract sound textures. How did this combination come about?

Christina Kubisch: Gaming was commissioned as a fixed-media composition for the Sound Dome at ZKM Karlsruhe. Since Resonances: The Electromagnetic Bodies Project (2005), I’ve been making recordings in the old and new server rooms at the ZKM and in their permanent collection of historical computer games. Computer games like Asteroids (Atari, 1979) and Poly-Play (VEB Polytechnik, 1986) have specially generated analogue electromagnetic waves that interest me in particular on account of their density, rhythms and textures. I originally studied painting and to me the work of composition often feels like painting an abstract picture. I alter my source material as little as possible, layering and overlapping until a distinctive sound space emerges. In recent pieces, I sometimes combine magnetic waves with field recordings or live instruments. In Gaming it’s my recording of a Chinese song about silence.

JJ: Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004) is a recording from your Electrical Walks series. Here we should give a brief explanation of one of your best known works: participants in an Electrical Walk move through public spaces wearing prepared headphones that allow them to receive electromagnetic waves from their surroundings – for example from security gates, ATMs or neon signs. They discover a situation that normally is inaudible to the human ear and they can actively shape it by choreographing their movements. I really admire this piece, not least because there’s no clear dividing line between participants and artist. What exactly do we hear in Two persons walking through a street in Madrid (2004)?

CK: With this early work, I wanted to understand what is heard by people participating in an Electrical Walk in the same place but moving in different ways. The Spanish composer Miguel Alvarez-Fernàndez and I set off from opposite ends of a major shopping street in Madrid, met briefly in the middle, and then continued to the end. We both recorded our walks and I then layered them over one another. You might call it a work of electromagnetic conceptualism.

JJ: Diapason (2009 version) is an installation that plays a composition based on sounds from fifteen tuning forks. This setting is audible in the recording: there’s no dramatic arc, no beginning or end – instead, it recalls a piece of aleatoric music focussing on the decay phase. How did you come to make this work and could you tell us something about your compositional method?

CK: Diapason is part of a series of three pieces that deal with “non-instruments” or instruments that no longer exist: electrical mine bells used to send signals to the workers underground; a historical glass harmonica originally used for medicinal purposes; and tuning forks that were used by doctors to test people’s hearing. All of these methods are no longer in use. The sound of the tuning forks, audible only if held close to the ear, was recorded at the electronic studio at Berlin’s Technical University in such a way that even their decay remained audible. The frequencies range between 64 and 2048 Hertz and they can be adjusted at micro-intervals using small movable weights. The sequence and the duration of the pauses are dictated by chance and were not defined in advance. The 2009 version was created for an installation in the historic Holy Cross Church (Korskirken) in Bergen. Visitors could enter and leave the space at any time, deciding for themselves where and for how long they wished to listen to the sounds played back over an array of small loudspeakers placed on the floor of the apse.

Credits:

Gaming in Silence: commission of the ZKM/Hertzlab, Karlsruhe 2023
elektronic sound processing: Tom Thiel
sound engineering and mixing: Eckehard Güther

Diapason: produced at Elektronisches Studio of TU Berlin
rearrangement: Eckehard Güther

Christina Kubisch, published by Edition Christina Kubisch / Random Musick Publishing

image front: Transitionen 2021 by C. Kubisch, sonagrams of electronic waves (courtesy: Galerie Mazzoli Berlin)
image back: Diapason Tuning Fork, property of Folkmar Hein, Photo: Archiv Christina Kubisch

design by Tim Tetzner
mastered by Giuseppe Ielasi
Thanks to Miguel Álvarez-Fernández, Folkmar Hein, Dominik Kautz and Mario Mazzoli

The Definitive Origins of the Chicago Electric Blues. Witness the birth of a legend. This essential collection captures Muddy Waters at the most pivotal moment of his career: the transition from a Mississippi Delta traveler to the "King of Chicago Blues." Muddy Waters was an ambitious young man who saw little future in Mississippi. In 1943, he headed for the bright lights, big city of Chicago, where he soon connected with blues giant Big Bill Broonzy, who began featuring Muddy as an opening act at his club dates. Within a year, Muddy had switched to electric guitar and formed his first blues combo, quickly becoming an established figure on Chicago's club scene. In 1947, Muddy came to the attention of the fledgling Aristocrat Records, just as Leonard Chess-then running a nightclub called the Macomba Lounge-invested in the company. Working frequently with pianist Sunnyland Slim, Muddy recorded a split session with him for Aristocrat in December 1947. This collection begins there: eight Aristocrat 78 rpm releases (sixteen sides), recorded between 1948 and 1950 and presented here in chronological order of release. Just three years later, Leonard and his brother Phil Chess would buy out Aristocrat's remaining partners and rename the label Chess Records-ushering in a new era of Chicago blues that would reverberate around the world. Includes extensive liner notes by Muddy Waters expert Fred Rothwell.

Artist and multi-instrumentalist Flaer embraces the search for quiet miracles on first full-length LP Translations.

In 2023, Realf Heygate - who makes music as Flaer - released his debut mini-album Preludes, composed on his mother’s piano and his childhood cello.Returning to ODDA for his debut full-length album, Heygate is now looking in another direction. A record that embraces transition and movement, Translations is in many ways more internal, less rooted to a single place and reflective of the process of laying new foundations in Cornwall.

Like Preludes, Translations is coloured with found sounds and field recordings, from the starlings which can be heard singing through the open window of his studio, to the brittle recordings of his mother, who was a linguist, learning Spanish on a set of language tapes. In both cases, Heygate embraced the translations and memories inherent to the sounds.

“When I digitised my mother’s tapes, they warped and stuttered in a very similar way to the starling’s song,” he explains. “They had this uncanny rhythm and pulse that I couldn’t quite decode, but was saying something." These decayed transmissions hint at loss, resisting clarity in favour of the ineffable.

Translations is also a record of ambiguities and in-betweens, suggested by the double meaning of the album’s opening track ‘Entre’. At once intricate and expansive, threaded with birdsong and acoustic guitar motifs, this and ‘Starling Descends’ (a reference to Vaughan Williams’ ‘The Lark Ascending’) act as a bridge away from the pastoral themes of Preludes towards a more assertive sound. At times intimate in its textured instrumentation and at others more overtly grand in orchestration, reflecting awider palette of influences.

“Flaer began in many ways when I picked up my mother’s instruments, seeking a form of reconnection. Where words evaded me, they became the tools through which I found a language for grief – and above all, for love.”

Recorded between 2023 and 2025 – what Heygate calls “A gradual process of sowing and harvesting ideas rather than a single intense creative period” - each track follows a rhythm similar to the small maquettes and sculptures he has been working on in his visual practice, whereby structures and melodies form intuitively in moments that are as rare as they are fleeting.

“It's that feeling of searching that I really enjoy,” Heygate continues. “I never know what the destination of the composition is going to be, and I never really find what it is."

Translations is released on limited edition off-white vinyl LP (500 copies worldwide) with one of five signed and numbered handmade risograph prints. It's also available as standard black vinyl LP and digitally.

_NRV011 welcomes Romanian craftsman Firesc for a deep, stripped and deliberate three-track journey built for long blends and late-hour tension.

“Travelling Monk” unfolds across eleven patient minutes — a rolling, meditative groove anchored by subtle low-end pressure and finely detailed percussion. The arrangement breathes, evolves and locks into a steady hypnotic stride designed for extended transitions and heads-down floors.

“Resiclap” tightens the focus. Snapping drums and elastic rhythm work drive the groove forward with crisp minimal precision, balancing restraint with just enough swing to keep things playful.

On remix duties, Andrei Ciubuc reinterprets “Resiclap” with a darker, more driving edge. His version sharpens the rhythmic framework and reinforces the low-end weight, turning it into a focused, late-night weapon without sacrificing the original’s subtlety.

A refined, functional release that stays true to the understated aesthetic _NRV is becoming known for — built for selectors who value patience, space and control.

Vivel is Alexander Eldefors’ second release under his own name. Built around eurorack and field recordings, many captured during still moments while traveling to visit family and friends. The album was created during a period of transition. It functions as an anchor in a time of change, representing a sense of home, safety, and stillness.

Alexander Eldefors is a producer, composer, and mixing engineer based in the countryside outside of Stockholm, Sweden. With a background as both a sound engineer and musician, he has spent years recording, mixing and playing in a wide range of bands and solo projects. In 2019, he consciously slowed down and returned to a more intimate and quiet musical expression, leading to the release of his debut album Bergen in 2020 under his own name. Bergen is the Swedish word for mountains and reflects the fact that Alexander grew up in the north of Sweden close to the mountains.

His music is minimalistic, melodic, and embracing, shaped by a deep connection to nature. Natural environments are a constant presence in his work, serving both as inspiration and as a sound source. Alongside this, he is drawn to the raw textures of everyday objects, working with foley sounds and field recordings. His arrangements unfold as organic sound collages, where elements blend freely and imperfections are preserved to maintain a natural, human feel.

Emerging from the vivid chaos of Detroit’s underground, ZelooperZ returns with Dali Ain’t Dead — a surreal yet deeply grounded statement from one of rap’s most singular voices. Following his recent collaborative exploration Dear Psilocybin (with Real Bad Man) — which found him moving through a “stream of psychosis” just before sobriety. (Pitchfork) — ZelooperZ enters this new chapter not simply as the same intricate-flows rapper, but as a rising cult-figure in underground hip-hop who’s forged an identity both enigmatic and quietly unstoppable.

On Dali Ain’t Dead, ZelooperZ channels the spirit of the surreal — the album’s title a nod to the iconic surrealist artist Salvador Dalí — as he reframes his world post-substance, post-chaos, yet still dripping with vivid imagination. Reviews highlight that the album finds him in a more focused mode: one critic writes that “ZelooperZ seems to have adopted a similar outlook to Dalí… embracing sobriety and allowing his art to exist as the psychotropic fuel for his mind.” (Album of the Year) Production (courtesy of Dilip) is inventive and cohesive, blending experimental hip-hop, trap, cloud-rap and drumless textures to mirror Ze’s newly clear-eyed vantage point and trademark eccentricity. (Legends Will Never Die)

Tracks like “Mona Lisa Left Eye” and “Push Me Around” (featuring Zack Fox) carry Z’s jagged humor and restless energy, while deeper cuts like “Shrooms” and “Take Me I’m Drugs” trace his evolving relationship with psychedelia and the legacy of his past. (Legends Will Never Die) In doing so, the record positions itself as the sound of a freak-icon in transition — still wild, still weird, but sharpened, matured, operating with a purpose and increasingly commanding the attention of fans who relish the underground unusual.

ZelooperZ’s trajectory continues to rise. From his roots in the Bruiser Brigade collective in Detroit to the present moment as a cult figure whose every release feels like a mission statement, Dali Ain’t Dead confirms that he’s no longer just the oddball off-to-the-side: he’s the weirdo that others are quietly watching. This album isn’t just for the longtime disciples of his left-field aesthetic — it’s an invitation to anyone curious about hip-hop bending, breaking, and rebuilding itself from the fringes inward.

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

With their third album, Inanimate Objects of the 21st Century, Newcastle’s The Pale White prove once again that there’s no slowing them down. Following the success of their introspective sophomore album The Big Sad, brothers Adam (vocals/guitar) and Jack Hope (drums) return louder, sharper, and more defiant than ever. This third full-length is their most expansive yet: a record that blends the anthemic punch of classic rock with the urgency and edge of modern alternative.The title, Inanimate Objects of the 21st Century, is a nudge to the uncomfortable irony of our time – as technology accelerates, humanity feels increasingly frozen in place. Lead singer Adam Hope says: “Technology is moving, but we are not. Human civilization entered the 21st century wide-eyed and naive with mobile phones that would barely fit in our pockets. Fast forward a few decades and we’re so far from where we were that it almost looks like a bad 80’s sci-fi movie. Back then, that film would be watched in packed-out cinemas after an eagerly anticipated release, but now they stand emptier than they once were, attended mainly as a nostalgic experience in the age of Netflix and doomscrolling.

The birth of AI, algorithms, cryptocurrency, drones, holographic concerts, autonomous cars… we’re living in a strange transitional period which is both fascinating and terrifying in equal measure. We humans have now in fact become the inanimate objects - mannequins.After our softer, melancholic second album ‘The Big Sad’, we felt it was only right to move as fast as our world is moving and release our next within the year. ‘Inanimate Objects of the 21st Century’ is the evil twin, the Yin to The Big Sad’s Yang.”

With „Darkness Is My Crown“, DEFACING GOD present their most personal and intense album to date. The Danish extreme metal visionaries once again fuse blackened death metal, symphonic darkness and occult atmosphere - this time with a strong focus on inner conflict, loss, transformation and resilience. The album stands as an unfiltered reflection of confronting darkness head-on and reshaping it into strength, identity and purpose. „Darkness Is My Crown“ is a powerful artistic statement, defined by authenticity, emotional depth and uncompromising vision, further solidifying DEFACING GOD’s place within the modern extreme metal landscape. The album will be released on March 27, 2026, and was mixed and mastered by Tue Madsen (Heaven Shall Burn, Babymetal, Belphegor …) at Antfarm Studios.

Analog Fingerprints Vol. 0 is a compilation bringing together the early 2000s works of Marco Passarani under his Analog Fingerprints alias, collecting key tracks originally released on Rome’s Plasmek and Pigna labels.

For Numbers, the story starts long before the label itself. In their formative years, digging in Glasgow’s Rubadub, Passarani’s records felt like dispatches from a future city. Releases on his own Nature Records and on labels such as Generator and Interr-Ference Communications were mind blowing: rooted in Detroit techno, Chicago house and electro, yet pushing somewhere new. Much like fellow travellers Autechre, who would remix him in 2001, Passarani’s music balanced machine funk with restless experimentation.

Information was scarce, and you would hear these records first on the dancefloor or at listening stations in shops like Rubadub. Print fanzines like Ear and early web outposts such as Forcefield offered only fragments. But there was a palpable axis forming between Detroit techno and a new European wave of record labels including Skam, Rephlex, Clone, Viewlexx and Nature itself. It was the sound that defined Saturday nights at Rubadub’s ‘69’ parties in Paisley, just outside of Glasgow.

Passarani’s records, in particular, were instrumental in bringing together the future Numbers co-founders. Richard had already booked him pre-Numbers; meanwhile Calum (Spencer) and Jack (Jackmaster), then 16/17 year olds working alternate Saturdays in Rubadub, were so enamoured with the Roman sound that they travelled to Rome for the Bitz Festival in 2003 to seek out Passarani and Lory D at their source.

The first Analog Fingerprints release landed as a 12” on Plasmek in 2001, following the fractured, IDM-leaning 6 Katun material. For Passarani, the project marked a recalibration. A DJ first and foremost, he had moved into production via early computer setups, from a Commodore Amiga through primitive PC audio, Cubase and Logic, later experimenting with Ableton. The IDM scene had offered a playground for trial and error, but there was always a tension between abstraction and the dancefloor. Analog Fingerprints became the bridge: still intelligent, but with more dance than distance. After years of broken beats and complex arrangements, he wanted directness without surrendering identity.

Working closely with Francesco de Bellis and Mario Pierro in the Pigneto district, the trio formed Pigna as a vehicle for reclaiming a more accessible dance sound, deliberately steering away from the minimal wave beginning to dominate Europe. Sessions were fast, instinctive, often stretching late into the night with friends dropping by. It was a studio as social space, production as collective energy.

“In that constant search for balance, Analog Fingerprints was my way of expressing something closer to the classic dance floor. The track 'Tribute' - a tribute to my favourite early Detroit techno track of all time, 'First Bass' by Separate Minds - came after I realised I had almost lost my connection with the dance floor. The simplest step was to take inspiration from early Chicago and Detroit and twist it in our Roman ‘Pigna’ way. My goal was to create more accessible dancefloor tracks by mixing my unconscious Italo roots with my teenage love for that early US sound, ensuring the result was as far as possible from the minimal sound that was starting to dominate everywhere.” - Marco Passarani

Technically, the Analog Fingerprints tracks span a transitional era: Roland TR-909, SH-101 and Alpha Juno hardware met early software experiments. A Novation Drumstation rack stood in for the unattainable TR-808, syncing with TB-303 and TR-606. Yet the true secret weapon was Jeskola Buzz, a tracker-style modular environment that allowed step-by-step parameter control and strange melodic constructions, later exported into the audio sequencer. Even the lead on ‘Tribute’ came from an early PPG Wave-style plugin. It was hybrid thinking at a moment when digital tools still felt unstable but full of possibility for technologists like Passarani.

Behind the music sat Finalfrontier, a loose Roman collective orbiting Nature and Plasmek. Distribution and production were intertwined; importing obscure records into Italy built connections with like-minded outsiders across Europe and the US. Expensive phone bills and fax machines forged an “electronix network” that linked Rome to Clone, Viewlexx, Skam, Rephlex, Rubadub and Detroit’s Underground Resistance. There was a shared sense of survival and resistance, of operating against commercial systems.

Passarani recalls “The first time I found a sheet of paper inside an Underground Resistance 12” with info about upcoming releases... and a huge picture of Spock on the back. Imagine that: you love the music, you love Star Trek, and there’s someone on the other side of the ocean sharing those same values and sounds. It was the perfect match. We even gave our original company the suffix ‘Finalfrontier’: that says it all.”

Feedback in that era arrived physically: distributor faxes, conversations with visiting DJs, the experience of playing abroad and meeting kids who had connected with the records. Glasgow became a key node in a scattered outlier network. Passarani personally brought the first two Nature releases to Fat Cat in London, playing them in-store. Shortly after, a fax arrived from Rubadub in Glasgow requesting copies.

“I still remember that phone buzz and the fax paper slowly sliding out, with someone I didn’t know saying they wanted 75 copies of Nature 001. Or like the time we got a fax from the Rephlex crew just saying, “Hello Nature Records, Keep up the good work.” That was how we knew the message was getting through. It was a fantastic feeling; just one piece of thermal fax paper as an analog notification - the mood for the entire week would change.” - Passarani

The connection to Glasgow has since stretched across generations. As Passarani reflects, links often fracture as scenes renew themselves, but in Glasgow something different happened. New and old mixed seamlessly. There was a visible trust in what came before, and a willingness to carry it forward rather than discard it. Observed from Rome, it was deeply encouraging.

Analog Fingerprints Vol. 0 captures that moment of exchange: Rome to Glasgow, Detroit to Europe, experiment to dancefloor. It documents an artist recalibrating his sound and a network of scenes discovering one another in real time, connected by vinyl, faxes and shared intent.

In 1962, Black Music was making its transition from R&B to soul and the Chicago music industry was exploding, producing thousands of records and dozens of new labels. The two biggest black labels Vee-Jay and Chess led in the creation of the distinctive, smooth, Chicago soul brand with names familiar and not so familiar: the former with Curtis Mayfield and Jerry Butler and the latter with Mitty Collier, Etta James and Billy Stewart. And yet it's the smaller labels that make up the bulk of the Chicago story: Hawk with Geraldine Taylor, Lu-Cee with Roberta, M-Pac with Dorothy Prince and it's here that we explore some of the finest sounds of the era in this collection. Extensive liner notes written by Robert Pruter, author of the acclaimed 'Chicago Soul'. Side One. 1. The Town I Live In - McKinley Mitchell 2. I'm The One Who Loves You - The Impressions 3. Shake A Tail Feather - The Five Du-Tones 4. Mama Didn't Lie - Jan Bradley 5. Make It Easy On Yourself - Jerry Butler 6. Seven Day Fool - Etta James 7. The Blues Don't Like Nobody - Tony Adams 8. I've Got To Get Away From It All - Mitty Collier 9. How Much Longer - Geraldine Taylor 10. I'm On The Prowl - Roberta. Side Two: 1. Fat Boy - Billy Stewart 2. Can't Take No More - Ted Taylor 3. I Don't Want To Suffer - Walter Jackson 4. Open Your Heart - Sugar Pie DeSanto 5. Shook Up Over You - Dee Clark 6. Something's Got A Hold On Me - Etta James 7. Why Not Tonight - Dorothy Prince 8. Delilah - Major Lance 9. Money In My Pocket - Moss Tolbert

Emerging artist Beifer presents his highly anticipated debut album "constant.transition": an eclectic fusion of electronic music with strong influences from dubstep, garage and drum&bass, enriched with captivating jazz elements. This cross-genre work takes listeners on a journey through dark atmospheres and avant-garde soundscapes, brought to life by the artist's complex percussion layers and interesting chord structures.
With great experimentation and a desire to break new ground in electronic music, Beifer has created an album that captures the listener's attention with its unique textures and unconventional soundscapes. Each track is an exploration of musical possibilities, with Beifer masterfully blending a wide variety of genres while creating a cohesive and infectious atmosphere.

The album also features notable collaborations with renowned musicians. Wanja Slavin, Moritz Stahl (Ark Noir/Lyder) and vocalist Enji have collaborated with Beifer to add an additional dynamic and layered dimension to the album. Their unique talents and empathy blend seamlessly with Beifer's vision, opening up new worlds of sound for the listener. Beifer has managed to push the boundaries of electronic music and make an impressive artistic statement with his debut album.

"constant.transition" is the first release on the newly founded tunnel.visions label. Starting as a event-series, the three members of the electronic alternative experimental jazz band Ark Noir have made it their mission to present progressive, contemporary music that includes acoustic and electronic instruments, takes up compositional and improvisational concepts and thus breaks down the boundaries between academic and autodidactic practice.
Over the past year, Ark Noir has featured Beifer several times at concerts and brought the music of "constant.transition" to the stage with live instrumentation. The program was enthusiastically received by the audience.

The new record follows Priddy"s sophomore LP "The Pendulum Swing" which firmly established her as one of the most exciting artists on the contemporary British music scene. Produced by Rob Ellis (PJ Harvey, Anna Calvi, Bat for Lashes), "These Frightening Machines" was written over the course of a year as Priddy made the transition from her 20s to her 30s. The most sonically varied of her career, the songs span a full spectrum of emotions from anger and despair to hope, longing and lust, from reclaiming the voices of women silenced by history, to expressing solidarity and love, to confronting illness, disconnection, the vulnerability and importance of relationships, and the general ache of growing older and not always wiser. They explore what it means to keep going when things fall apart, to hold onto connections in a world that sometimes divides, and to figure out where we fit into the machines and systems we find ourselves a part of.

The new record follows Priddy"s sophomore LP "The Pendulum Swing" which firmly established her as one of the most exciting artists on the contemporary British music scene. Produced by Rob Ellis (PJ Harvey, Anna Calvi, Bat for Lashes), "These Frightening Machines" was written over the course of a year as Priddy made the transition from her 20s to her 30s. The most sonically varied of her career, the songs span a full spectrum of emotions from anger and despair to hope, longing and lust, from reclaiming the voices of women silenced by history, to expressing solidarity and love, to confronting illness, disconnection, the vulnerability and importance of relationships, and the general ache of growing older and not always wiser. They explore what it means to keep going when things fall apart, to hold onto connections in a world that sometimes divides, and to figure out where we fit into the machines and systems we find ourselves a part of.

A compilation of rare and unique songs that blend rock and soul grooves with pop songs sung in the traditional scales of Okinawa, a southern island of Japan. It includes 14 tropical groove tracks from notable artists such as the iconic Yara Families, the pioneer of Okinawan folk rock Shokichi Kina, and Mitsuko Sawamura, who transitioned from Okinawa to American musical films.

Having transitioned between London, Lisbon and back again as a DJ and producer, as well as across the world as the drummer in beloved pop group, Metronomy, Anna Prior remains an essential and independent force in alternative and electronic music culture. The current epicentre of this creativity is undoubtedly Prior’s own label, Beat Palace. Established in 2021, it has showcased the talent and diversity of FLINTA producers carving an esoteric space within alt-pop and electronic music.

Returning to the imprint for the first time since its inception, Anna Prior utilises this vital platform to refine her own craft across the five-track ‘Firefly’ EP, exploring new moods and styles, balancing playfulness with vulnerability, shadow and light. Prior describes ‘Firefly’ as, “a collection of moments - some fleeting and some stubbornly lingering.... Each track came together almost by accident, but now feels to me like they've always belonged together.”

Lead single ‘True For You’ pulsates with soft euphoria, as Prior weaves softly cascading synths with her own earnest declarations, composing a sensual, sophisticated drama about “letting other people's differing truths sit alongside your own” that nonetheless carries a distinct club energy. In contrast, title track ‘Firefly’, written alongside co-producer Matt Karmil, unfolds as a spoken-word piece, investigating memory, “the tricky mirror that reveals more than it conceals”. Throughout, Prior’s inquisitive, native Yorkshire accent anchors a wide-eyed soundscape that gradually, impressively escalates into the cinematic.

Centerpiece track ‘Silence’ turns this approach inside out, escalating the tempo and revealing a DnB-influenced shade of Prior’s work that is certain to surprise and impress, scattering elegant syllables amongst serious soundsystem pressure as Prior navigates the feeling of being ghosted; by friends, lovers and even her own work. ‘No More Drama’ returns to pop, presenting a bold cover of Mary J. Blige’s classic that inverts the original’s unmatched intensity for a more serene, but no less affecting rendition.

Finally, ‘Beside You’ delivers one last, sublime blend of Prior’s songwriting and sequencing instincts, a simple pop incantation that coaxes dancers into a soft trance while concluding with a reminder from Prior that “amid life’s unanswered calls and fleeting highs, there is always space to feel safe and unjudged.” Concluding this sublime EP, Prior finds new ground to settle into her talents.

World Of Echo announces the reissue of two remastered albums by Japanese guitarist and songwriter Naoki Zushi, 1988’s Paradise, and 2005’s III. Two classics of Japanese psychedelia, both Paradise and III were originally released on Org Records, the imprint of Shinji Shibayama of acid-folk group Nagisa Ni Te, with whom Zushi has guested on second guitar for decades. Both intimate and expansive, rich with revelatory songwriting and blasted, sky-scouring guitar, these reissues return these albums to print for the first time since the 2000s. It’s the first time III has been officially released on vinyl, with an extra, previously unreleased track, “Under The June Moonlight.”

Recorded in Kyoto’s Townhouse Studios in mid 1987 and released in limited-to-500 vinyl pressing in 1988, Paradise emerged from a scene in Kansai, Japan that was embracing the idiosyncracies of 1970s singer-songwriters, the soaring solos of early seventies psychedelia, and the DIY impulse of 1980s post-punk. While Zushi’s musical history stretched back to the early eighties – he was a founding member of Jojo Hiroshige’s noise outfit Hijokaidan – he found his feet with groups like Hallelujahs, whose dream-pop collection Niku O Kuraite Chikai Wo Tateyo was recently reissued by Black Editions, and Idiot O’Clock.

Paradise appeared two years after that Hallelujahs album and share much the same membership – Zushi’s backing band on several of the songs includes Shibayama on drums and Ken-Ichi Takayama (aka Idiot) on electric guitar, though just as often, Zushi plays all the instruments himself. The coordinates here are wide-reaching – you can hear the volume and intensity of Neil Young & Crazy Horse (on “Hallelujah: Left Side” and “Paradise: Midday”), the slow-motion magic of Galaxie 500, the idiosyncratic spirit of The Only Ones, all mixed up with tender guitar miniatures and stumbling garage-psych-pop moves.

Seven years later, after the transitional album Phenomenal Luciferin, Zushi released III. Perhaps his masterpiece, it’s already been bootlegged on vinyl, but this reissue is the real deal. The album was recorded at Studio Nemu over seven years, and sees Zushi backed by Shibayama (bass) and Masako Takeda (drums), his erstwhile bandmates in Nagisa Ni Te. By this stage, Zushi had started to really stretch out, and many of the songs on III swoon languorously, taking their sweet time to say what they need to say. It’s rich with lovely, melancholy songs, in a similar realm to bandmates Nagisa Ni Te, of course, but you can also hear traces of everything from Syd Barrett’s The Madcap Laughs, through seventies private press loner folk, to the slow-burn meanderings of the likes of early Low or Damon & Naomi.

When interviewed by Shibayama in the mid-nineties, Zushi said of Paradise, “it was a sort of collection of songs that had meant something to me up to that point… it was my paradise. I wanted to create paradise.” That’s something Zushi achieves on both of these albums – visionary Japanese psychedelia, en route to paradise. - Jon Dale

On a Sunday in the early 70s in South LA one could asily find themselves experiencing the Pan Afrikan Peoples Arkestra doing what they do for the community, performing incredible music. "Live at Widney High December 26th, 1971" is a previously unreleased PAPA recording. It finds director Horace Tapscott conducting the band at Widney Career Preparatory & Transition Center, a special-education magnet high school in Los Angeles. The band played shows here between 1970 and "72, often sharing the bill with contemporaries John Carter and Bobby Bradford"s group, and at one point the Sun-Ra Arkestra. These weekend shows were free and meant for the surrounding Black community. On this date the PAPA performed a range of compositions from the Ark"s expansive songbook, including arrangements of tunes by Pharoah Sanders and John Coltrane.

Debut by a new string trio of Pelt and Elkhorn veterans with the wild card contributions of Kaily Schenker, creating a new variant of supremely pleasing acoustic-psychedelic-drone-Americana etc. “Lullaby>Summer Field” is an aptly named gentle rise, with Sheppard’s fingerpicked 12 string snaking through waves of elongated fiddle and cello. “Triode>Freedom” follows a darker minor-key ostinato with Gangloff’s keening melody over the top. “Freedom>Universal Blues” starts as a dirge and builds to a transition into the traditional “The Squirrel is a Pretty Thing,” with Kaily Schenker’s droning harmonium and vocal delivering a riveting, epic version of what’s usually cast as a short “kids”/folk-tale song (e.g. Peggy Seeger’s version). Originally this album was released by the band in an instantly sold-out edition of 100 for sale at their shows. This updated version includes a new insert by Kaily, a new cut by John Golden and a thick pressing from Smashed in Chicago.

With Severance, IGLO returns to Figure with a focused yet exploratory EP that reflects his open-ended approach to contemporary techno. The release moves fluidly between restraint and expression, combining functional structures with subtle, unconventional elements that give the tracks a distinct sense of character. Rather than settling into a fixed formula, Severance highlights IGLO's curiosity and willingness to push his sound forward while remaining grounded in precision and control.

Connection opens the release with a restrained, heads-down groove. A firm low-end foundation and sparse percussion lock into a steady momentum, while understated melodic elements add depth without breaking the track's linear drive.
On Kauriraris, the energy tightens. Nervous synth motifs and crisp rhythmic details create a sense of urgency, pushing the track forward through constant micro-variation. It's a lean and effective tool built for sustained pressure.
Flipping the record, Blink Twice moves into darker, denser territory. Murky textures and a weighty groove unfold gradually, building tension through repetition and space. The track thrives on its slow burn, making it well-suited for late-night transitions.
Alive introduces a more open and flowing feel. Warmer tonal elements and a subtle swing soften the edges, while the groove remains firmly anchored and forward-moving.
Digital-only track Forlornly closes the EP with a spacious and introspective mood. Reduced rhythms and airy melodic layers create a calm, drifting atmosphere that rounds off the release with control and restraint.
With Severance, IGLO delivers a tightly structured EP that emphasizes clarity, tension and functionality - a confident addition to the Figure catalogue.

Opal presents its fourth release: Turning Point, Vol. 1, a various artists EP.

The record unfolds as a continuous journey, each track flowing into the next. Energy shifts gradually, guiding the listener through a subtle change of course that is already taking shape. The EP is a curated sequence of evolving perspectives, an introspective mapping of sound in transition. Featuring BOOH, Last Chance, Lourene, Ramez, IDL, and CRL.

Written during a period of geographic and artistic transition, Country Music traces Severin Black’s movement from London to Berlin, unfolding through cycles of isolation and adaptation. Composed on the city’s periphery, the album’s material was continually dismantled and reassembled, reflecting a process of both artistic and personal reconstruction. The album marks a shift in production methodology, moving away from the immediacy of summed live takes toward a more deliberate, stratified multitrack approach. Sparse yet hypnotic, the record distills layers of sound formed by constant relocation, recurrent solitude, and a recalibration of instinct. In many ways, it echoes the experience of exile, not in a political sense but in the quieter, more insidious form of displacement that alters one’s perception of time and self. The music drifts between structure and dissolution, a reflection of existing at the threshold of different spaces—both physically and sonically.

The shedding of the previously used Nape moniker signaled a decisive sonic transformation, informed by extended time spent in the Pyrenees and a renewed engagement with folkloric material. Severin began playing the clarinet while making this record, and though its presence is minimal, it reveals itself as an interest in acoustic simulation, particularly the digital approximations of classical instruments that emerged within 1990s synthesizer technology. This interrogation of authenticity and mediation parallels the album’s thematic engagement with memory, where recollection functions not as a retrieval of fixed experience but as an iterative process of distortion and reconstruction. The relocation to Berlin reignited an affinity for grime music, evident in the syncopated brass of Pilgrim Wine and the fractured vocal layers of March, while memories of childhood in rural Wales permeate the record’s atmospheric spaces. The album includes contributions from longtime collaborator Vanessa Bedoret and Berlin-based artist Pavel Milyakov (Buttechno).

Country Music situates itself within an unresolved dialogue—between past and speculative futures, between folk lineage and digital fragmentation, between place and its embodied and sonic traces. What emerges is not a fixed statement but a process, an ongoing negotiation between what is left behind and what is brought forward. Words by Chantal Michelle

Mastered by Owen Pratt / Design by Severin Black / Center label image by Nicky Kidd / Back cover text by Alya Kanıbelli

Candiria’s classic album 300 Percent Density reissued on vinyl in February Hailing from Brooklyn, New York, Candiria is one of the precursors of the mathcore genre. Formed in 1992 by vocalist Carley Coma, guitarists Chris Puma and Eric Matthews, and drummer/bassist/keyboardist/trumpeter Kenneth Schalk, the band was part of the second wave of New York hardcore, but subsequently expanded its performance to also play jazz, hip hop and progressive rock. 300 Percent Density is Candiria’s fourth studio album, originally released by Century Media in 2001. Critically praised for its experimental mix of metal, jazz, hip-hop, and hardcore, the album’s intricate arrangements and adventurous sound have made it a classic, stated by fans and critics as the band’s best work to date. The 25-year-old album is available on wax again in February 2026 via Svart Records. “Candiria have always been—and remain—a favorite among the group’s peers, because musicians already possess the vocabulary to understand the intricacy of the band’s arrangements and the tireless care and craft that went into perfecting them. Like the Dillinger Escape Plan and Converge, Candiria pressed hard to break through the monoculture of metal’s awkward transitional years and pave the way for similarly experimental bands.” -Decibel Magazine

Candiria’s classic album 300 Percent Density reissued on vinyl in February Hailing from Brooklyn, New York, Candiria is one of the precursors of the mathcore genre. Formed in 1992 by vocalist Carley Coma, guitarists Chris Puma and Eric Matthews, and drummer/bassist/keyboardist/trumpeter Kenneth Schalk, the band was part of the second wave of New York hardcore, but subsequently expanded its performance to also play jazz, hip hop and progressive rock. 300 Percent Density is Candiria’s fourth studio album, originally released by Century Media in 2001. Critically praised for its experimental mix of metal, jazz, hip-hop, and hardcore, the album’s intricate arrangements and adventurous sound have made it a classic, stated by fans and critics as the band’s best work to date. The 25-year-old album is available on wax again in February 2026 via Svart Records. “Candiria have always been—and remain—a favorite among the group’s peers, because musicians already possess the vocabulary to understand the intricacy of the band’s arrangements and the tireless care and craft that went into perfecting them. Like the Dillinger Escape Plan and Converge, Candiria pressed hard to break through the monoculture of metal’s awkward transitional years and pave the way for similarly experimental bands.” -Decibel Magazine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A house is something that is so deeply temporary, yet it can hold so much energy. How do we carry or leave behind those energies while transitioning into new spaces? How does each space we occupy for some time shape us and how do we tear ourselves away from it and its influence once it’s time to go? These are some of the core questions behind CC Sorensen’s new album for mappa, ‘Phantom Rooms’ – it’s a record about movement, change, transformation, family, juxtapositions… but most of all, home.

CC Sorensen was reflecting a lot on their childhood home in rural Kansas, USA while working on this music. The album could be characterised by a familial, chamber feel and both of CC Sorensen’s brothers, Ryan and Nyal Ruehlen, make an appearance on ‘Phantom Rooms’, among other instrumentalists. Using a wide palette of sounds – CC Sorensen alone in charge of keyboards, software instruments, voice, electronics, percussion, trumpet, guitar and field recordings, in addition to guests on pedal steel, voice, chimes, saxophone and drumset – the American musician crafts music as mysterious as it is inviting. The idea behind it would be almost surrealist – ghostly rooms in houses where we live – if we all didn’t know exactly what CC Sorensen means. Home isn’t something concrete, but it’s also not just an abstract concept. It’s a space beyond space; home in itself is a phantom room we enter. And what enables us to enter is the object of exploration here.

CC Sorensen’s approach is playful – tracks like “Beat Bot” and “Plastic Portals” are almost fun – but also contemplative. They make thoughtful, meandering chamber music intertwined with field recordings and electronics. Reeds, strings and percussion often set the atmosphere – sometimes airy, gentle, at other points more insistent – as the music grapples with departure, instability, deep reflection and imagined future spaces. Especially in the closing “Bexar” there’s a tangible yearning for a stable home, a longing to rekindle and keep ablaze this beautiful familial connection to a physical place. It’s both music that invites to reflect and music that in itself reflects; desires, hopes and dreams.

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

Joe Allotta's solo project (drummer, composer, and singer) was born from his need for freedom of expression after numerous experiences
as a session musician for artists such as Davide Shorty, Johnny Marsiglia, Funk Shui Project, Mario Biondi, Leburn Maddox, Giles Robson,
Amy True, and Imaani (Incognito).
His compositions embody the desire to make jazz, in its various forms and influences, accessible to the widest possible audience without sacrificing the impact of an engaging and captivating live performance.
Joe Allotta blends hip hop, funk, and drum 'n' bass with contemporary jazz, perfectly blending vocals with his performances. He combines
his rhythmic exploration with a sweet and surprising voice, capable of lending further emotional depth to his music.
"Transition" is a musical journey that reflects a life in constant motion, where everything seems fleeting, fast, and fleeting, immersed in the
frenetic rhythms that surround us every day. The title also encompasses a more intimate dimension: the growth of his artistic identity. Joe is
no longer just a drummer and composer, but also a singer. His intense and surprising voice intertwines with his drumming in a continuous
dialogue, opening up new expressive possibilities and adding further depth to his musical language.
The album was produced in the studios of the Sghetto Club in Bologna, where Joe, together with his producer Jacopo Trapani, spent weeks
researching and experimenting: rehearsing, playing, processing and synthesizing sounds, developing and arranging ideas, thanks also to
the collaboration of extraordinary musicians. The result is a work that blends instinct and research, intimacy and openness, movement and
transformation: exactly what Transition aims to convey.
CREDITS
Giuseppe "Joe" Allotta: Compositions, Vocals, Drums, Bass, Keyboards
Jacopo Trapani: Compositions, Recording, Mixing
Chicco Allotta: Piano (Track 1)
Giovanni Galdo: Bass (Track 1)
Riccardo Dalle Vedove: Trombone (Track 1)
Piergiorgio Perrella: Guitar (Tracks 2, 5, 8, 9)
Elijah Lee Last Jacinto: Piano (Track 6)
Matteo Diego Scarcella: Sax (Track 6) Francesco Brini: Master

Tilaye Gebre is one of Ethiopia’s most soulful saxophone giants, with a musical legacy that’s hard to surpass. A founding member of the Equators, later renamed the Dahlak Band, he was a key figure in Ethiopia’s vibrant hotel music scene and a sought-after musician and arranger for artists like Aster Aweke, Mahmoud Ahmed, Tilahun Gessesse, and Muluken Melesse.

Tilaye — still going strong — was at the epicenter of the Ethiopian music scene during one of the most turbulent periods in the country’s history. Tilaye’s musical trajectory, regardless of the forms it has taken over the decades, is simply ceaseless. The road to a musical career spanning six decades started out winding, and the first steps came almost as a fluke.

With the Dahlak Band, Tilaye had managed to secure a musical residency at the legendary Ghion Hotel, where they honed their skills and developed their musical expression to unparalleled levels. From the late sixties onwards, Dahlak Band lit up Addis Ababa with a mixture of James Brown and Wilson Pickett tunes, rhythm and blues, soul, funk, and the sound of the disco era — mixed with modern Ethiopian styles — serving up majestic concoctions with full-range instrumentation, featuring trumpet, keyboard, saxophone, bass, drums, and guitar. Through their hotel sessions, Tilaye developed further as an arranger, arranging fellow band member Muluken Melesse’s first solo album, Muluken Melesse with the Dahlak Band (Kaifa Records – LPKF 39), recorded during the turbulent years of 1975–1976, following the fall of Haile Selassie. Everything was in flux in this transitional period, but a constant was how Tilaye stood in the spotlight. On that record, there’s a loose vibe to the soundscape that lets Tilaye’s skills shine, while all the other musical contributions coalesce into a slowly cooking atmosphere where the groove at times fluctuates into psychedelic territory, making the music stand out from most contemporaries.

Most of their recorded output came from one-take live cassette recordings at the Ghion, or from music shops at that time — one microphone at the front, hit record: no EQ, no reverb, just some delay. Some of the Dahlak Band’s releases featured Tilaye as frontman, such as Tilaye’s Saxophone with the Dahlak Band from the late 1970s — typical of a rare groove on the Ethiopian scene — with excursions into reggae territory, including the band’s characteristic sound featuring Tilaye Gebre (tenor and alto saxophone), Dawit Yifru (organ), David Kassa (electric guitar), Shimelis Beyene (trumpet), Moges Habte (tenor saxophone), Abera Feyissa (bass guitar), Tesfaye Tessema (drums), and Muluken Melesse (cowbell). The Dahlak Band’s output was so prodigious that they simply couldn’t be pigeonholed.

No saxophonist in Ethiopia influenced the sound of popular music more than Tilaye in the 1970s, yet his recordings have been hard to come by for ages, which has meant that newcomers to the scene have gems to uncover in retrospect. Arguably, Tilaye shifted gears when he relocated to the U.S. to such an extent that his musicianship became even more renowned, accompanying the greatest of his contemporaries internationally. Tilaye is one of Ethiopia’s all-time greats, with a musical legacy — both as musician and arranger — that’s hard to surpass. It’s a wonder to be able to enjoy a recording like this half a century later.

FUSE11 - Rosati - Divina Nostalgia

For Fuse Imprint's eleventh release and the first of 2026, Rosati unveils 'Divina Nostalgia', an ode to vibrancy in dance music through four truly euphoric tracks. The Italian artist focuses on the enduring power of vintage production with a much-needed spotlight on techno's optimistic underbelly, resulting in a sound that is both charismatic and electrifying.

'Division' sets the tone of the EP with playful percussion and bright synth work that unravels as the track progresses. Rosati utilizes the full character of the 909 for the flair that drives the record: rides, claps, and open hi-hats thunder through the arrangement in celebration of each transition. The artist then zeros in on 'Echoes', tightening the energy with an unflinchingly analog bassline and lush pads that round out the harsher edges of the percussion. This serves as a more linear approach for immediate effect; where the track favors minimalism, it provides maximum impact.

Gradually turning up the energy, 'Orbital' jumps through toms and filtered chord stabs to emphasize the record's extroverted nature. The synths dazzle along the rolling drums for a track that possesses house's temperament but techno's insistence. Finally, the title track 'Divina Nostalgia' concludes the EP in a moment of pure release. If you wondered where jazz comes into the picture, just ask Rosati. Organs, Rhodes, swing, and sustained tension slice through to a victorious finish line that highlights dance music's command of the present moment.

Ascension marks the Manjumasi debut of Brazilian producer Canavezzi, distilling the label’s trademark quirky sophistication through a distinctly South American lens. The EP drifts between deep house, dub-soaked textures, micro-details and tech-driven grooves, always subtle, never obvious.
Across the record, Canavezzi works in tiny movements: flickers of percussion, vapor-trail chords and basslines that feel less “written” and more sculpted over time. Nothing shouts, everything glows. It’s the kind of sound that sneaks into a warm-up set and is still echoing in your head when the lights come on.
True to the San Francisco imprint’s ethos of deep, complex, melodic grooves with a playful twist, Ascension is built for dancers and listeners alike, equally at home on a smoky after-hours floor, a rooftop at sunrise or late-night headphones.
A thoughtful slice of contemporary house from Brasil to Manjumasi, Ascension is less about peak-time fireworks and more about that slow, undeniable lift: a steady climb into its own hypnotic orbit.

Força Maior combines the vital saxophone explorations of Pedro Alves Sousa with the infinitely subtle electronic processing of Pedro Tavares. Sousa (aka Má Estrela) is known for manipulating his woodwind through guitar pedalboards & amplifiers, creating far-from-ordinary sonics rooted in unceasing curiosity. For his part, Tavares (aka funcionário) conjoins video & sound work to create space for the pensive wanderings where memory and imagination interlace.

The album Morte Lilás was recorded over a week in June 2023 in Pedro Alves Sousa's family farm, located in the village of Ferreirim, near Lamego, in Portugal. The partly abandoned farm served as the residency, studio, and inspiration for the album: it is a 400-year-old granite farm that belonged to a member of the "40 conspirators"—a group that led the revolution for Portugal's independence from Spain in the 17th century.

Morte Lilás is a remarkable album of committed meditation. Each day on the farm was a recording day for the two Pedros: Sousa on sax & electronics, Tavares on sampler & processing. Apart from slight sonic incursions from the surrounds—the birds on 'Quinta à tarde'—and the sporadic use of sine tones, the source sounds all start from the saxophone. It is then processed both by Sousa & Tavares. The album unfolds as a saxophonic tapestry that breathes with quiet intensity. Each piece invites close listening, revealing fine gestures and tonal shifts that shape a contemplative, ambient space. Força Maior move with calm precision.

The album opens with the unhurried overture 'Quinta à Tarde' a Portuguese pun on Eno's Thursday Afternoon that announces the textures at play. Sousa's breathy entrance is paired with a soft, delicately shifting, backdrop. As the track progresses, time seems to stretch. The arrangement resists urgency, favouring subtle evolution over dramatic turns. Pensive layers shift & drift, creating a sense of suspended motion that brings the listener into the environs of Morte Lilás. 'Quinta à Tarde' is a long-form fade, shifting emphasis from Sousa to Tavares.

'Cubos' continues the gauzy feel, but with a more up-tempo tilt. Rhythmic clicks & pings setup a swung time for the sax to interpose melodic lines that are fed back & bent with cascading delays. Força Maior in distilled form.

Força Maior is in top form on the title track 'Morte Lilás', a sprawling centrepiece that showcases their command of atmosphere & emotional pacing. By turning up the reverberation & leaning into a continuous format, they dissolve the gap between hypnotic trance & articulate reverie. Then, a moment of stillness. The track pauses, not abruptly but like a tide pulling back, revealing the contours beneath. What follows is a return to the album's more relaxed architecture: understated rhythms, softened textures, and a sense of spaciousness that opens space for reflection. It is a transition that feels organic, as if the song itself needed to exhale before settling back into its contemplative groove.

'Menta' is another short-form miniature of the band's signature contours: beautiful loops of air pressure gradients that carry an emotive weight & light.

The album closes with 'Cascata do Inferno'. The title suggests violence, but the music whispers instead—an atmospheric cascade of breath & tone that emerges in slow, deliberate waves. Short melodic cycles are matched by shimmering electronic chords. It's a piece that rewards patience, draws the listener in to drift downstream, eyes closed, into the serene turbulence of its current.

Predatory Void returns with their third record, an EP titled `Atoned in Metamorphosis`, a concentrated statement of intent that compresses the band's restless energy into four precise movements. The music negotiates extremes: patient, reverb-saturated passages give way to sudden, metallic eruptions; subterranean basslines provide narrative weight beneath volatile guitar textures, vocals growl, wail and lament as drums alternate between measured architecture and volcanic release. The result is an austere, immersive sound that is both incandescent and violently sharp. Conceptually the EP takes on the ugly shadow of the unconscious and cathartically wrestles the demon onto canvas. Calling on elements from sludge, doom and black metal, as well as the unrelenting energies of hardcore and contrasting slower, haunted atmospheres, Predatory Void's signature sound is as volatile and piercing as ever. Concise, tight compositions that hook you in melody and then rage in filthy agony. The music can be confrontational, but it is never gratuitous_force is deployed to clarify rather than to overwhelm as emotional depth is at all times the compass. The production aesthetic prioritises fidelity to performance: takes are preserved for their immediacy, dynamics remain uncompromised, and the mix privileges contrast so that quiet moments carry as much dramaturgical weight as full-band climaxes. `Atoned in Metamorphosis` consolidates Predatory Void's forward motion and stakes a claim for a sound that prizes architectural heft and textural nuance in equal measure. Listeners should expect an immediate physical response in what is undeniably an ardent expression, and enjoy the reward of cumulative detail, for the EP dares you to listen closely: to feel transitions as processes, and to accept tension as a pathway to release. Predatory Void invites engagement, not escape, and demands to be met on its own terms, boldly. RIYL Hexis * CELESTE * Wallowing * LLNN * Downfall of Gaia * Witching

Predatory Void returns with their third record, an EP titled `Atoned in Metamorphosis`, a concentrated statement of intent that compresses the band's restless energy into four precise movements. The music negotiates extremes: patient, reverb-saturated passages give way to sudden, metallic eruptions; subterranean basslines provide narrative weight beneath volatile guitar textures, vocals growl, wail and lament as drums alternate between measured architecture and volcanic release. The result is an austere, immersive sound that is both incandescent and violently sharp. Conceptually the EP takes on the ugly shadow of the unconscious and cathartically wrestles the demon onto canvas. Calling on elements from sludge, doom and black metal, as well as the unrelenting energies of hardcore and contrasting slower, haunted atmospheres, Predatory Void's signature sound is as volatile and piercing as ever. Concise, tight compositions that hook you in melody and then rage in filthy agony. The music can be confrontational, but it is never gratuitous_force is deployed to clarify rather than to overwhelm as emotional depth is at all times the compass. The production aesthetic prioritises fidelity to performance: takes are preserved for their immediacy, dynamics remain uncompromised, and the mix privileges contrast so that quiet moments carry as much dramaturgical weight as full-band climaxes. `Atoned in Metamorphosis` consolidates Predatory Void's forward motion and stakes a claim for a sound that prizes architectural heft and textural nuance in equal measure. Listeners should expect an immediate physical response in what is undeniably an ardent expression, and enjoy the reward of cumulative detail, for the EP dares you to listen closely: to feel transitions as processes, and to accept tension as a pathway to release. Predatory Void invites engagement, not escape, and demands to be met on its own terms, boldly. RIYL Hexis * CELESTE * Wallowing * LLNN * Downfall of Gaia * Witching

Here comes a special project with the late great Milton Henry, recorded in New York for Black Redemption a few months before his transition. Two rootikal rddims by Birmingstrong’s King Stanley set the tone and provide a perfect backing to Milton Henry’s poetic voice. ‘My Story, My Song’ back to back with ‘Lake Of Fire’, each with a dub version, ready for your stereo… his works, words and voice will live on forever more!

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

Una interpretación de Soinuarenbidea II debería partir de esta premisa: todo es posible, nada es aleatorio, y en sí mismo es un imposible de aleatoriedades. El escenario planteado explora la idea de realidad aumentada desde una percepción sonora, ambiental y colectiva. La obra transita hacia adelante y hacia atrás recreando experiencias extintas de porvenir incierto, tratando de facilitar un fin pacificador. Cada pieza sonora se crea, se despliega, se repliega y se destruye, en una torsión permanente de toda la realidad que hace posible cada fragmento musical, cada identidad acústica, cada espacio sonoro. Lo onírico, la ficción, y el viaje están continuamente presentes, y es en el transitar de cada fragmento donde se produce el diálogo de la exposición musical. Los elementos de esta ficción se recrean continuamente, en un continuum donde se entrelazan y se van contorsionando a medida que crecen o decrecen con cada fragmento de síntesis concreta. Los temas explícitamente musicales son el magma que conduce a dar voluptuosidad al disco, siendo la piel un contexto o límite que en sí mismo fluctúa indefinidamente en texturas y configuraciones posibles. Y la urdimbre del silencio es la síntesis que está continuamente presente y que trata de cohesionar los fragmentos en continua colisión expresiva. Las grabaciones de campo proporcionan el material sonoro concreto, y como un fractal sonoro cada una de ellas ofrece diferentes grados de interpretación que a su vez conduce a nuevos fragmentos y nuevas creaciones. Así que se puede pensar que esta es una síntesis de una posible realidad, pero interpretable en infinidad de maneras. Un movimiento y una estaticidad implícitas que generan estructuras y dinámicas acústicas. Lo que se escucha no es real, pero en sí mismo forma parte de la realidad, creando un escenario expectante. Lo cinematográfico, plástico y teatral, danzante y dinámico cobra importancia en este juego, porque se trata de contar una historia, una experiencia recreada desde los puntos de vista del arte visual. Es a su vez hilo conductor y entretenimiento, discurso político y puro divertimento. Es desde este espacio de convivencia artística que tiene sentido la totalidad y justifica el formato sonoro planteado. La contradicción de la obra es patente en el formato, y es a su vez el planteamiento de una accidentalidad en el devenir vital. Contenedor de Ruido recoge todas estas contradicciones y las manifiesta en la obra Soinuarenbidea II. Es una historia sonora, es un cuento acústico. Es un fragmento de vitalidad en imágenes audibles. Es una invitación a la reflexión, a la crítica, al disfrute, a la meditación, a la celebración. Y sobre todo es esperanzadora apreciación de la realidad como algo maleable que confeccionamos colectivamente, que requiere de una paciente observación y la participación colectiva global, en un mundo finito pleno de diversidades y del que ignoramos prácticamente todo, al que deberíamos volver con respeto y devoción.

Soinuarenbidea II-ren interpretazio batek premisa honetatik abiatu beharko luke: dena da posible, ezer ez da ausazkoa, eta, berez, ausazkotasun ezinezko bat da. Planteatutako agertokiak errealitate areagotuaren ideia aztertzen du, soinu-, ingurumen- eta talde-pertzepzio batetik abiatuta. Lanak aurrera eta atzera egiten du, etorkizun zalantzagarriko esperientzia desagertuak birsortuz eta helburu baketsua lortzen saiatuz. Soinu-pieza bakoitza sortu, hedatu, tolestu eta suntsitu egiten da, musika-zati bakoitza, identitate akustiko bakoitza eta soinu-espazio bakoitza ahalbidetzen dituen errealitate osoaren etengabeko bihurdura batean. Onirikoa, fikzioa eta bidaia etengabe daude presente, eta pasarte bakoitzaren joan-etorrian gertatzen da musika-erakusketaren elkarrizketa. Fikzio honen elementuak etengabe birsortzen dira, continuum batean, non sintesi zati zehatz bakoitzarekin hazi edo txikitu ahala elkar lotzen eta bihurritzen diren. Esplizituki musikalak diren gaiak diskoari atsegintasuna ematera eramaten duen magma dira, azala testuingurua edo muga izanik, testura eta konfigurazio posibleetan mugarik gabe aldatzen dena. Eta isiltasunaren irazkia etengabe presente dagoen sintesia da, zatiak etengabeko adierazpen-talkan kohesionatzen saiatzen dena. Landa-grabazioek soinu-material zehatza ematen dute, eta soinu-fraktal batek bezala, horietako bakoitzak interpretazio-maila desberdinak eskaintzen ditu, eta horrek, aldi berean, zati eta sorkuntza berrietara eramaten du. Beraz, pentsa daiteke errealitate posible baten sintesia dela, baina hamaika modutan interpreta daitekeena. Egitura eta dinamika akustikoak sortzen dituzten mugimendu eta estatikotasun inplizitu bat. Entzuten dena ez da erreala, baina, berez, errealitatearen parte da, eta agertoki espektakularra sortzen du. Zinematografikoak, plastikoak eta antzerkikoak, dantzariak eta dinamikoak garrantzia hartzen dute joko honetan, ikusizko artearen ikuspegitik birsortutako istorio bat, esperientzia bat, kontatzea baita helburua. Aldi berean, hari gidaria eta entretenimendua da, diskurtso politikoa eta dibertimendu hutsa. Elkarbizitzarako espazio artistiko honetatik osotasunak zentzua du eta planteatutako soinu-formatua justifikatzen du. Obraren kontraesana nabarmena da formatuan, eta, aldi berean, bizi-bilakaeran istripu-tasa bat planteatzea da. Zarata-edukiontziak kontraesan horiek guztiak jasotzen ditu eta Soinuarenbidea II obran adierazten ditu. Soinu istorio bat da, ipuin akustiko bat. Bizitasun zati bat da, irudi entzungarrietan. Hausnarketarako, kritikarako, gozamenerako, meditaziorako eta ospakizunerako gonbidapena da. Eta, batez ere, itxaropentsua da errealitatea modu kolektiboan egiten dugun gauza xaflakor gisa hautematea, behaketa pazientea eta partaidetza kolektibo globala eskatzen dituena, dibertsitatez betetako mundu mugatu batean, ia guztia kontuan hartzen ez duguna, eta errespetuz eta debozioz itzuli beharko genukeena.

An interpretation of Soinuarenbidea II should start from this premise: everything is possible, nothing is random, and in itself is an impossible randomness. The proposed scenario explores the idea of ​​augmented reality from a sonic, environmental, and collective perception. The work moves back and forth, recreating extinct experiences of an uncertain future, seeking to facilitate a peaceful end. Each sound piece is created, unfolds, retreats, and is destroyed, in a permanent twisting of all reality that makes each musical fragment, each acoustic identity, each sonic space possible. The dreamlike, the fictional, and the journey are continually present, and it is in the transit of each fragment that the dialogue of the musical exposition takes place. The elements of this fiction are continually recreated, in a continuum where they intertwine and contort as they grow or diminish with each fragment of concrete synthesis. The explicitly musical themes are the magma that leads to the work's voluptuousness, the skin being a context or boundary that in itself fluctuates indefinitely in possible textures and configurations. And the warp of silence is the synthesis that is continually present and seeks to unite the fragments in a continuous expressive collision. The field recordings provide the concrete sound material, and like a sonic fractal, each one offers different degrees of interpretation that in turn lead to new fragments and new creations. So one can think of this as a synthesis of a possible reality, but interpretable in an infinite number of ways. An implicit movement and staticity that generate acoustic structures and dynamics. What is heard is not real, but in itself is part of reality, creating an expectant scenario. The cinematic, plastic and theatrical, dance and dynamic aspects take on importance in this game, because it is about telling a story, an experience recreated from the perspective of visual art. It is at once a common thread and entertainment, political discourse and pure entertainment. It is from this space of artistic coexistence that the whole makes sense and justifies the proposed sound format. The contradiction of the work is evident in its format, and it is, in turn, the presentation of an accidentality in the course of life. Noise Container gathers all these contradictions and manifests them in the work Soinuarenbidea II. It is a sound story, an acoustic tale. It is a fragment of vitality in audible images. It is an invitation to reflection, to critique, to enjoyment, to meditation, to celebration. And above all, it is a hopeful appreciation of reality as something malleable that we collectively craft, requiring patient observation and global collective participation, in a finite world full of diversity and of which we know practically nothing, to which we should return with respect and devotion.

Paisajes sonoros, diseño sonoro, drones y música grabada, realizada y arreglada para Contenedor de Ruido por David Aranaz. Coro: Basandere Ahotsak. Producido y mezclado por David Aranaz. Mástering: Estanis Elorza. Fotografía: David Aranaz. Texto: David Aranaz. Traducción: Saioa Aranaz Oreja. Trabajo y Diseño artístico: Cristina Martinez. Edición: Contenedor de Ruido Producciones y Sarbide Music. Distribución: Contenedor de Ruido.

Contenedor de Ruido agradece el apoyo en la realización de Soinuarenbidea II al coro Basandere Ahotsak y en especial a Eva Orbara Goicoa.

Soinuarenbidea II está dedicado al pueblo palestino.

Paisajes y objetos Sonoros, samplers y otras músicas transformadas para Soinuarenbidea II
Burlada: Paseos sonoros matinales por Merindad de Sangüesa, Calle Mayor, Capuchinas, Parque Uranga y varias iglesias y plazas. Pasajes del cotidiano: basura de papel, cristal y plástico.
Pamplona: Cementerio de San José. CEIP Sanduzelai /// Quinto Real: Fábrica de Armas, Puerto de Urkiaga y alrededores. Suite del silencio, bosques en movimiento /// Fábrica de armas de Orbaiceta: regatas, biosques, paseo sonoro hasta regata /// Belate: Puerto de Belate y alrededores. Vacas en pradera junto a las turberas /// Bardenas Reales: Suite de guitarra y Suite del silencio, estepa desértica /// Austria: Tranvías de Graz y Viena. Muchedumbre del metro de Viena.
Voces cinematográficas de: Matanza en Texas, Robocop, Espíritu Sagrado, Solo los Amantes Sobreviven, Voces de Gaza, Yojimbo, Terciopelo Azul, Los 7 Magníficos.
La pista A2 está dedicada a la memoria de David Lynch.
La pista B4 está dedicada a Eva Orbara Goicoa.
Pista A4: Contiene interpretaciones de piano de Three Piano Pieces Op.11 de Arnold Schoenberg.
Pista A5: Es una interpretación expandida con síntesis FM del Concerto Op. 24 - Etwas lebhaft - de Anton Webern.
Pista A7: Contiene la canción Besarkatu ninduzun (Letra de Josune López y música de Josu Elberdin) en interpretación de Basandere Ahotsak en la iglesia de Burutain bajo la tormenta.
Pista B2: Contiene la canción Recuerdos de la Alhambra (Fernando Tárrega) en interpretación torsionada de David Aranaz Sarasa.
Pista B14: Contiene la canción Agur María (Letra y Música de Estíbaliz Robles “Estitxu” y arreglo exclusivo de Alfonso Ortiz para Basandere Ahotsak) en interpretación de Basandere Ahotsak.

Equipamiento para Soinuarenbidea II.
Micros de condensador SE7, configuración XY y ORTF; Micros de cinta ORTIZ LUTHIER configuración XY y Blumlein; Grabadoras MARANTZ y ZOOM; Sintetizadores y samplers Elektron MONOMACHINE SPS-1, MACHINEDRUM SFX6 y MODEL:SAMPLES. Dave Smith MOPHO. Torso Electronics S-4. Sintetizador Modular 333 DIY; Guitarra clásica ALHAMBRA 6P; Esculturas Sonoras tipo Baschet, cristal y metales; Mesa Soundcraft FX16ii; Interface de Audio RME Babyface Pro FS; DAW Logic Pro; Procesamiento de modelado analógico con Acústica Audio, Waves, Softube, Brainworx, Sonible, Analog Obsesion, Tokio Dawn. Metering de Logic y RME DigiCheck . Amplificación Hafler PRO2400. Monitorización BW DM602 S3. Mezcla digital; Mastering híbrido.

Hello Spiral returns to the same North London block, the same triangulated geometry of balconies and courtyard, but with a shift of orientation. His previous record looked outward from the eighth floor, these four new recordings move inside, into the building’s arteries. Joe explores the hallways of the complex where he has lived and listened for years, using the same tool as before, an iPhone and its voice memo app. The recordings were made in situ, each exactly eleven minutes, captured without ceremony.

The hallways feel different. Less private, less scenic, more neutral. They are the connective tissue between hundreds of domestic units, a space of transit rather than rest. The carpet absorbs certain frequencies. The fire doors catch and release pockets of air. The lights hum. Elevators drone in soft cycles of arrival and departure. These are the institutional sounds of shared living, yet once recorded they begin to behave strangely. A kind of internal weather appears.

As with the previous album, Joe remains attentive to what is often overlooked, irrelevant or discarded. The hallways, with their scuffs and signage, their coded access and polite functionalism, provide an unexpectedly rich field. The ambience is not shaped by storms or scaffolding, not by birds or street spill. Instead the material is the building’s own breath, its mechanical rhythms, the low frequency traces of neighbours, the occasional shuffle of footsteps that pass but do not return.

Joe talks about this record as a possible middle chapter in a trilogy. If so, it sits between the exposed openness of the balcony and whatever comes next. A hinge point. These recordings continue Joe’s long practice of defamiliarization, sharpening attention to the unnoticed while withholding narrative. They invite repeated listening, not for revelation, but for the subtle shifts that occur when a familiar space is treated as an instrument.