Buscar:inhuman

Da Taylor Nordberg und Jeramie Kling den Titel der 1992er Massacre-EP "Inhuman Condition" als Namen für ihre neue Band wählten, nachdem sie das Death-Metal-Flaggschiff 2020 verlassen hatten, erscheint es plausibel, dass in den letzten fünf Jahren an diesem bewährten Old-School-Sound festgehalten haben. Das dritte Inhuman-Condition-Album "Mind Trap" ist jedoch mehr als nur Massacre 2.0 und markiert eine Steigerung auf allen Ebenen. Die Tatsache, dass sich das ursprüngliche Trio, das durch den altgedienten Bassisten Terry Butler (zu verschiedenen Zeiten ebenfalls Mitglied von Massacre) vervollständigt wird, bei der Arbeit an neuem Material nie Ziele setzt, hat sich als Segen erwiesen: "Wir haben das Gefühl, dass wir unsere Identität gefunden haben und endlich über die Verbindung zu Massacre hinweg sind", sagt Nordberg. "Beim Schreiben, Aufnehmen, Mischen und so weiter wurde nichts überstürzt. Dieses Album zeichnet sich durch eine gewisse Behaglichkeit aus, hat aber immer noch diese knallharte Kante." Die Songs auf "Mind Trap" sind dem Gitarristen zufolge ein "Kommentar zu der Welt, in der wir leben". "Einige meiner Texte befassen sich mit dem erdrückenden Einfluss der Technologie auf unsere Spezies. Die Platte hat alles - Blut, Eingeweide, Serienmörder, Sci-Fi-Horror, schlechte Menschen." Die Band produzierte das Album vollständig in ihrem eigenen Studio, und das Ergebnis kann sich mehr als hören lassen. "Mind Trap" kommt mit einem weiteren bestechenden Artwork von Dan Goldsworthy (Accept, Alestorm) und zeugt von der besonderen Chemie des produktiven Duos hinter Inhuman Condition.

Introducing Atoll: Unleashing the Unrelenting Power of extreme Metal... Prepare for an auditory assault like never before as extreme metal band Atoll is set to unleash their bone-shattering new double Album "Human Extract/Inhuman Implants." With brutal grooves, guttural vocals, and a relentless onslaught of sonic chaos, Atoll continues to redefine the boundaries of the death metal genre. "Human Extract/Inhuman Implants" is a merciless dive into the darkest depths of the human psyche. Drawing inspiration from the macabre and the unknown, Atoll's latest offering takes listeners on a spine- chilling journey. With hauntingly atmospheric lyrics, the band delves deep into the horrors of this otherworldly experience, creating a musical narrative that will leave fans on the edge of their seats. True to their signature style, Atoll unleashes a sonic tempest upon the listener, combining relentless blast beats, blistering guitars, and soul-crushing basslines. The guttural vocals pierce through the dense wall of sound, delivering a sinister intensity that adds a chilling layer of malevolence to the composition. "Human Extract" showcases the band's exceptional musicianship and their unwavering commitment to pushing the boundaries of extreme metal. Atoll has amassed a loyal following through their relentless live performances and uncompromising dedication to their craft. Their ability to conjure an electrifying atmosphere that grips audiences, coupled with their unmatched stage presence, has earned them a reputation as one of the most formidable forces in the metal scene. With "Human Extract," Atoll proves once again why they are at the forefront of the Extreme metal movement. "We wanted to create a sonic experience that would engulf listeners in an eerie atmosphere, where the boundaries between reality and the unknown blur," says Wade Taylor the band's vocalist. "With 'Human Extract,/Inhuman Implants' we aimed to capture the essence of fear and vulnerability, delivering a musical journey that mirrors the horrors of alien abduction and the horrors of earth and man. It's an intense, cathartic exploration of the human condition." -Atollbone-shattering new Album "Human Extract." With brutal grooves, guttural vocals, and a relentless
onslaught of sonic chaos, Atoll continues to redefine the boundaries of the death metal genre. Beautiful
bloodwork petri dish colored vinyl in gatefold sleeve.

- Debut album from the Grammy Award nominated
DJ/Producer Todd Terry who has dominated the
dance floor for three decades
- 1988 reissue of New York dance classic on 180gm
heavyweight black vinyl with printed inner sleeve
- 9 original cuts including samples from Kraftwerk, Art
of Noise and others.
- Hit tracks include 'Weekend' and 'Made By The
Man'

First complete Sonic Youth album is one of Thurston Moore's favorites. Includes live cover of The Stooges' I Wanna Be Your Dog'. Vinyl includes digital download. Originally slated to be a 7' to follow up their self-titled debut, Sonic Youth's Confusion Is Sex blossomed into the band's first album: a brain-bludgeoning, completely fried endeavor of dissonance and disarray, a perfect soundtrack for running from a chain-wielding gang near the SIN Club. This was the sound of 1983 New York City, nothing like the jangly roots of college radio rock starting to formulate in Athens, Georgia. It sounded like no one else on Earth, for that matter. The raw, Wharton Tiers 8-track production is dark, the Kim Gordon- scrawled cover figure art of Thurston Moore is dark, Lee Ranaldo's back cover photo-collage and Catherine Ceresole's crumpled-xeroxed images that adorned the inside are dark. It's an album that moves Sonic Youth forward from their first EP almost by devolving backwards into true ugly, lo-fi primitivity. The bareboned arsenal of junkpile guitars and implementation of alternate tunings was growing, and so were the songs that matched the individual attributes of each instrument: certain ones groan and growl a specific way that the band started to realize itself could become the compositional germ of a song. Herein is the threshold of a new explosion of the band's creativity, replacing the comparatively cleaner buzz of the Sonic Youth EP with guitars that spew fractured, uglier chunks of sound everywhere, held down by menacing minimalist basslines (actually played by Thurston on half of this LP, and for the only time ever on Protect Me You,' Lee) and the brutal-yet-controlled metronomic drumming of Jim Sclavunos, augmented with replacement drummer Bob Bert's notable bashing on Making the Nature Scene' and grotty no-fi live rendition of I Wanna Be Your Dog.' Hearing the crashedwindow intro of Inhuman' and subway-brake screech of The World Looks Red,' you can attest that while Sonic Youth's guitars are not quite yet being utilized in the totally controlled, lyrical fashion seen later on albums like Evol, Daydream Nation et al., they were well aware of the colors and tonalities that were unfolding and the possibilities presented. Also, they were getting a grasp on adding colors to the chaos with tempered, simmering moments like Gordon's Shaking Hell' and Renaldo's chimy, home-taped Lee is Free.' Making the Nature Scene' and The World Looks Red' even toss in glints of hip-hop vocal approach way ahead of its time, albeit through a blender. While its confrontationalism might have put off some critics, time has rewarded Confusion with a truly distinctive air and atmosphere in the Sonic discography, enough to have Moore declare it his fave along with the band's swan-song The Eternal. Brian Turner, WFMU.

Coloured vinyl reissue limited run 500

Released on Green vinyl.

Essential addition to your Doom collection.

A two-tracker rooted in movement and memory.

It’s Girls Night / Long Hair marks a confident next step for the Amsterdam-based, Dutch-Argentinian artist, pushing deeper into darker, more physical territory. Built from warped drum patterns, low-end pressure and distorted, inhuman textures, it leans fully into a percussion-led, club-focused sound.

It’s Girls Night is immediate - fast, raw, and unrelenting.
Long Hair pulls things into a heavier, more ritualistic space - broken rhythms, slower tension, deeper atmosphere.

Shaped by formative nights in places like De School, the EP reflects a direct connection to the dancefloor - where repetition, intensity and immersion take over.

A concise, impactful release and the first in a series with fabric Originals

You blink; eyes crusty. Last night went a little too late again, and as you stumble towards the kitchen you stare at the record player like it’s a cup of coffee. The rest of your life can wait. You stare at the record again and hit the lever and the needle falls.

First up: Gastón Cabrera’s Inhumano, a little relentless and unforgiving, like being thrown in the back of an Aston Martin and driven away. The groove builds to a haunting peak, and you want more. Then the record blurs into Alfalfa’s La Fiebre, which tickles your ears with eerie bells, and builds from bass fundamentals into something more driving. It’s hopeful, but makes you work for it – wading through acid; climbing the hill.

Everything stops. Fuck it. You flip the record, and Marcos Coya’s The Underdog starts off easy, but slips you down a dark path to a pool of churning, hypnotic synths. There’s a strange moment of quiet before the final track. vault. and Isaac Elejalde close with authority on Just Melt: a raw and writhing finale spiked with voices and sirens that will leave you out of breath, somewhere else.

Introducing The Goods. Four tracks; one abduction. Limited to 300 copies – vinyl exclusive, forever.

Its no secret that Samiyam is a certified beathead and appreciated hiphop producer - we have been in touch with him since his self released Rap beats volume 1 CD (or actually since his contribution with FlyLo as Flyamsam on the Beat Dimensions compilation), and later took in further releases on Stones Throw, Brainfeeder, Poo-Bah, All City & Hyperdub . What we did not know is Sam got heavily into Death Metal for the past 5 years and is a big horror movie fan. (check the artwork here !)


On Death Metal, Sam mentioned 'I started revisiting some old shit and realized I really love it and there's so many cool bands I didn't even know about.. I started making some shit with drums, drum programming, and ideas inspired by some of the stuff I like and realized I should just make an album out of it."

So here it is - 13 beat takes, Metal style - put together by a man whose output is sparse but never dissapoints !

Limited edition US import

Googling “paradise house”, the first results to pop up are an endless list of European b&b’s with whitewashed lime façades, all of them promising “…an unmatched travel experience a few steps from the sea”. Next, a little further down, are the institutional websites of a few select semi-luxury retirement homes (no photos shown, but lots of stock images of smiling nurses with reassuring looks). To find the “paradise house” we’re after, we have to scroll even further down. Much further down.

It feels like yesterday, and at the same time it seems like a million years ago. The Eighties had just ended, and it was still unclear what to expect from the Nineties. Mobile phones that were not the size of a briefcase and did not cost as much as a car? A frightening economic crisis? The guitar-rock revival?! Certainly, the best place to observe that moment of transition was the dancefloor. Truly epochal transformations were happening there. From America, within a short distance one from the other, two revolutionary new musical styles had arrived: the first one sounded a bit like an “on a budget” version of the best Seventies disco-music – Philly sound made with a set of piano-bar keyboards! – the other was even more sparse, futuristic and extraterrestrial. It was a music with a quite distinct “physical” component, which at the same time, to be fully grasped, seemed to call for the knotty theories of certain French post-modern philosophers: Gilles Deleuze, Félix Guattari, Paul Virilio... Both those genres – we would learn shortly after – were born in the black communities of Chicago and Detroit, although listening to those vinyl 12” (often wrapped in generic white covers, and with little indication in the label) you could not easily guess whether behind them there was a black boy from somewhere in the Usa, or a girl from Berlin, or a pale kid from a Cornish coastal town.

Quickly, similar sounds began to show up from all corners of Europe. A thousand variations of the same intuition: leaner, less lean, happier, slightly less intoxicated, more broken, slower, faster, much faster... Boom! From the dancefloors – the London ones at least, whose chronicles we eagerly read every month in the pages of The Face and i-D – came tales of a new generation of clubbers who had completely stopped “dressing up” to go dancing; of hot tempered hooligans bursting into tears and hugging everyone under the strobe lights as the notes of Strings of Life rose up through the fumes of dry ice (certain “smiling” pills were also involved, sure). At this point, however, we must move on to Switzerland.

In Switzerland, in the quiet and diligent town of Lugano, between the 1980s and 1990s there was a club called “Morandi”. Its hot night was on Wednesdays, when the audience also came from Milan, Como, Varese and Zurich. Legend goes that, one night, none less than Prince and Sheila E were spotted hiding among the sofas, on a day-off of the Italian dates of the Nude Tour… The Wednesday resident and superstar was an Italian dj with an exotic name: Don Carlos. The soundtrack he devised was a mixture of Chicago, Detroit, the most progressive R&B and certain forgotten classics of old disco music: practically, what the Paradise Garage in New York might have sounded like had it not closed in 1987. In between, Don Carlos also managed to squeeze in some tracks he had worked on in his studio on Lago Maggiore. One in particular: a track that was rather slow compared to the BPM in fashion at the time, but which was a perfect bridge between house and R&B. The title was Alone: Don Carlos would explain years later that it had to be intended both in the English meaning of “by itself” and like the Italian word meaning “halo”. That wasn’t the only double entendre about the song, anyway. Its own very deep nature was, indeed, double. On the one hand, Alone was built around an angelic keyboard pattern and a romantic piano riff that took you straight to heaven; on the other, it showcased enough electronic squelches (plus a sax part that sounded like it had been dissolved by acid rain) to pigeonhole the tune into the “junk modernity” section, aka the hallmark of all the most innovative sounds of the time: music that sounded like it was hand-crafted from the scraps of glittering overground pop.

No one knows who was the first to call it “paradise house”, nor when it happened. Alternative definitions on the same topic one happened to hear included “ambient house”, “dream house”, “Mediterranean progressive”… but of course none were as good (and alluring) as “paradise house”. What is certain is that such inclination for sounds that were in equal measure angelic and neurotic, romantic and unaffective, quickly became the trademark of the second generation of Italian house. Music that seemed shyly equidistant from all the rhythmic and electronic revolutions that had happened up to that moment (“Music perfectly adept at going nowhere slowly” as noted by English journalist Craig McLean in a legendary field report for Blah Blah Blah magazine). Music that to a inattentive ear might have sounded as anonymous as a snapshot of a random group of passers-by at 10AM in the centre of any major city, but perfectly described the (slow) awakening in the real world after the universal love binge of the so-called Second Summer of Love.

For a brief but unforgettable season, in Italy “paradise house” was the official soundtrack of interminable weekends spent inside the car, darting from one club to another, cutting the peninsula from North to centre, from East to West coast in pursuit of the latest after-hours disco, trading kilometres per hour with beats per minute: practically, a new New Year’s Eve every Friday and Saturday night. This too was no small transformation, as well as a shock for an adult Italy that was encountering for the first time – thanks to its sons and daughters – the wild side of industrial modernity. The clubbers of the so-called “fuoriorario” scene were the balls gone mad in the pinball machine most feared by newspapers, magazines and TV pundits. What they did each and every weekend, apart from going crazy to the sound of the current white labels, was linking distant geographical points and non-places (thank you Marc Augé!) – old dance halls, farmhouses and business centres – transformed for one night into house music heaven. As Marco D’Eramo wrote in his 1995 essay on Chicago, Il maiale e il grattacielo: “Four-wheeled capitalism distorts our age-old image of the city, it allows the suburbs to be connected to each other, whereas before they were connected only by the centre (…) It makes possible a metropolitan area without a metropolis, without a city centre, without downtown. The periphery is no longer a periphery of any centre, but is self-centred”.

“Paradise house” perfectly understood all of this and turned it into a sort of cyber-blues that didn’t even need words, and unexpectedly brought back a drop of melancholic (post?)-humanity within a world that by then – as we would wholly realise in the decades to come – was fully inhuman and heartless. A world where we were all alone, and surrounded by a sinister yellowish halo, like a neon at the end of its life cycle. But, for one night at least, happy."

The machinic rapture of Van Boom’s debut album, ‘Prosthetics’, firmly planted the Kuwaiti artist in the underground of critical producers that stoke grisly and inhuman themes. Set against the backdrop of the Gulf Region, these themes remain exceptionally nefarious. His latest release, the ‘NUBORNE’ EP, mounts wider explorations of the eviscerating sonic grounds that he began to depict with his first long-playing document.

Gestured with the EP’s title, ‘NUBORNE’ stakes its significance on regeneration and permutation, clearly relishing in the aftermath of ‘Prosthetics’. Across four tracks, Van Boom crafts precisely to forge a set of works that are attached to their live performance state. It’s here that the EP is at home, for this is where unknowns come into play, this is where distortion leads to novel structures. Featuring collaborations with whiterose, Safety Trance, and Evita Manji, ‘NUBORNE’ is rendered evermore atypical. Accompanying the shift in design, there’s an unnerving ambience that’s given free reign across the EP, too. Snapshots of solitude prick the focal points amongst rhythmic tics, as if these shards deform the tracks in real time. With sheer relentless momentum, Van Boom seizes a new path wielding his familiar forces.

Maverick UK producer Kevin Richard Martin (Zonal / Techno Animal / King Midas Sound) joins Relapse for the release of his devastating new double album Machine, his first solo instrumental record as THE BUG.

Machine started life as a series of self-released "floor weapons" (to use Martin’s description), landing in installments between 2023 and 2024 on the Bandcamp page of Martin’s own PRESSURE label. And now - always his intention - Martin has collated a single, powerful, unified statement from those EPs. The album detonates apocalyptic dread-tech mutations of crushing intensity, fusing a unique new strain of futuristic dub with deadly deep electronics and killer bass riffs worthy of the heaviest metal. It is, writes Martin, “ice cold and dystopian.” It celebrates “atmospheric pressure, and the joy of full body assaults, via oversized sound systems in undersized club rooms.” Machine also represents the latest metamorphosis of the "Macro Dub Infection" philosophy Martin germinated with the groundbreaking series of compilations he began curating for Virgin Records as early as the mid 90’s.

From Pasha With Love (love in times of war)

Pasha is a soldier on the front line, fighting those who till the day before were friends from the town next door, probably fighting his
own brothers-in-law, Natasha’s brothers, his great love, mother of his children in a senseless war if only wars had a meaning …

In the evening when the madness slows down.. Pasha takes his cell phone and talks about the horrors and the desperation but also the
infinite gratitude he feels for having had her as a gift in his life. His texts always end with "From Pasha with Love"

The atrocities, pain and the inhumanity he experiences every day, every hour, are alleviated in the pauses between one explosion and
another by his most intimate memories... Natasha's laughter as they chased each other in the sunflower fields in their first summer
together, his Yes! to her at the altar, her kisses first thing every morning.

While he runs surrounded by the screaming of the wounded and the whistling of bullets in the woods, in every moment that could be
the last, he searches for that tree where at their first date they carved that little heart with the words ..
Pasha & Nasha-Timele.