Suche:inspired

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The Outer Edge is excited to announce the release of an intense and previously undiscovered funk rap / boogie single, featuring two tracks recorded in 1986.

While researching for his book on 80s funk music in Germany, DJ Scientist explored bands from Bavaria that collaborated with GIs. One of these bands is Grand Slam, a group that remains active to this day. The band’s leader, Toby Mayerl, lived near a US Army base in Amberg, where he fell in love with funk after hearing Roger Troutman and Zapp. He soon became part of two groups: Total Control and Grand Slam.

Originally led by guitarist Harry Zawrel, Grand Slam had a “European” funk sound similar to Talking Heads or Level 42. However, in 1985, Mayerl took over the band and merged it with Total Control, a mixed group that included African-American soldiers. From that point on, they shifted towards a heavier funk and soul sound, continuing to work with musicians from the GI community. By late 1986, they had enough material to record their debut album, Make My Day. Although published by the independent label Kerston, the album was only available on cassette, primarily sold at their concerts in early 1987.

DJ Scientist managed to track down an original copy of this ultra-rare tape in the MUZ archive in Nuremberg. "What I heard blew my mind," he said. "The cassette featured seven raw, well-produced funk and soul jams with fantastic arrangements and vocals." As an old-school funk and disco rap collector, he was immediately captivated by the track "Goin' Out," which features GI rapper Calvin E. Flagg. This song evokes the energy of early recorded rap singles from labels like Enjoy or Sugar Hill Records.

On Side B, the second track from the unheard debut album, ‘Don’t Let You Down,’ offers another glimpse of what we've been missing. This uptempo boogie-funk track features lead vocals by Aletha Mcbryde, Calvin E. Flagg, and Oliver Allwardt, along with thrilling synths and a lively brass section - perfect for turning up the volume.
Both tracks have been remastered from the original master tapes, which Toby Mayerl fortunately still had in his archive. The artwork for the release is inspired by original band posters, with the Grand Slam logo taking cues from Bootsy's Rubber Band’s Body Slam! cover from 1982. This limited vinyl pressing is capped at just 350 copies.

Joel Sarakula's new album "Soft Focus" is a mid-career album spanning his many influences and genres including Soft-Rock, Funk and Indie Pop, all brought under the umbrella of his gentle gaze and a 'soft' aesthetic. "Soft Focus" is also the name of a photographic technique born out of a spherical abberation of the lens where the image is a bit blurry and undefined: it's both flattering and forgiving on the subject. It's an apt title. As a lifetime wearer of (vintage) glasses, Sarakula knows a lot about spherical abberations. Perhaps he produced these songs with his glasses off as these are abstract and warm vignettes, never overstaying their welcome and for this reason Sarakula manages to feature twelve new tracks on "Soft Focus".

Highlights include one of the two Shawn Lee produced tracks "I'll Get By Without You", the rockier, iberic beat of "King Of Spain", the soulful affirmation of "Back For Your Love" and the psychedelic-tinged "Bird Of Paradise" and "Microdosing". This is a lovingly crafted album, well polished and it feels like the culmination of Sarakula's adventures in soulful soft-rock and his defining statement in the genre. While comparisons will be made with contemporary projects like Shawn Lee's Young Gun Silver Fox, Drugdealer, Benny Sings and Prep, echoes of soft-rock icons Ned Doheny, Boz Scaggs, Todd Rundgren and Michael Franks also ripple gently through the album.

Imagine if Ray Manzarek was the frontman for the Bee Gees... It's a neat visual introduction to Joel Sarakula, a UK-based Australian artist who writes, produces and sings Soulful Pop, gazing out at a contemporary world through vintage glasses, vintage threads and long blond hair. His music is informed by a rich, 1970s-inspired palette, drawing on soft-rock, funk and disco influences: sunny, uptempo jams for darker times. Self-aware that he looks and occasionally sounds like the love child of Ray Manzarek and the Gibb brothers, his self-deprecating sense of humour is always there just below the fringe.

Born in Sydney, based in UK and international in outlook Sarakula is a songwriter who has travelled the world in search of his muse, experiencing everything from being a victim of Caribbean carjackings to performing in the remote fishing villages of Norway before finally establishing his career in the UK and Europe. Since then he has released albums such as "Island Time" (2023), "Companionship" (2020), "Love Club" (2018) and "The Imposter" (2015) that have racked up plays on rotation across national UK and European radio and got him noticed in The New York Times, The Independent (UK), The Irish Times, Rolling Stone Germany, El Pais (Spain) and Sydney Morning Herald. It's- been a long road finding his current cult status starting out at the piano from a young age in suburban Sydney, writing and singing songs by the time he was a teenager and onstage by fifteen years old playing jazz standards in his local golf club. "I came from humble beginnings, it's best not to mention" as he sings in his 70s boogie influenced song "I'm Still Winning". Joel Sarakula is a fixture on the festival and club circuit having previously performed at SXSW, Primavera Sound and Glastonbury festivals. Ever the internationalist, he tours with pickup bands sourced from each territory he plays in: a Barcelona band for Spain, a Berlin band for Germany and so forth. This cross-cultural exchange is another echo of the 1970s when world travelling soul and pop artists from the US did the same and guarantees that his live shows remain fresh, exciting and absolutely contemporary.

Tina Edwards "absolutely loving Ensoul and Locked! Big fan of what this band are doing. One of the most original outfits in London Jazz atm."

Jamie Cullum "beautiful music from Ambient Jazz Ensemble"

Presenting the genre defining and much hip hop sampled Ambient Jazz Ensemble. AJE’s Colin Baldry has a highly accomplished career in music writing and producing for iconic labels Motown, RCA, Geffen, Virgin and Capitol Records

London Fields describes London energy, vibe, anticipation; ‘fields' of electricity. The phrase conjours something of my own relationship with London. Having moved away after living & working there for 20 years I’ve recently fallen in love with the city again. I've been walking the streets, rediscovering it’s parks, canals, the architecture, the river; … & experiencing new music in London is always a joy. The 'London Fields’ have recaptured my imagination

Ensoul delivers sparse felt piano before Lynsey Ward releases her inner Kate Bush. Locked inspired initially by Tony Robert-Fleury’s 1891 painting ‘Alix Appearing in Mask’. And then the collaboration with singer songwriter Lynsey Ward an inspiration and a joy which comes across in the music

The Boysnoize Records catalogue contains more than a decade of milestones in the life of Angeleno DJ and producer PILO. His signatures—a focus on sound design, and a digital crunch evocative of hardware rather than software—are present from the very beginning, but the evolution of Pilo’s skill and sophistication is clear as he stretches from electro to experimental to techno and back again in a slowly oscillating gradient. Yet despite his dozen or so releases in just as many years, G.L.A.M. (dropping November 8th, 2024 from BNR) is Pilo’s first proper album. That the record embraces the cyclical nature of time is apropos; the artist’s journey towards self-actualized mastery always ends with a new beginning.



Over the eight tracks of G.L.A.M., Pilo reaches deep into the dream that first ignited the passion that has driven him since. For a chosen few internet-connected American teens in the aughts, the sounds of European electro (and electroclash) trickled down their ethernet cables and instilled a fantasy of exotic, sartorial, sexually-fluid hedonism that felt a world away from the hard-edged masculinity of the hip-hop and skate cultures dominant at home. Pilo opens G.L.A.M. expressing this idealized fantasy with the track “Superstar DJ,” channeling the tongue-in-cheek self-celebritizing of Miss Kitten and The Hacker’s seminal work. “I’m a superstar, come meet me at the bar,” hiss Pilo’s heavily effected vocals, over a bassline of chopped mentasm synths driven by a swift, club-ready rhythm. The fingerprint of 2000’s electro a la International Deejay Gigolo Records is recognizably present, yet Pilo is too adept, too confident in his studio abilities to let his tracks rely on the retro. A great joy of this album is the future-facing richness of its production, always nodding to its spiritual guide of the past, while constantly breaking new sonic ground.



G.L.A.M. continues with “Girls Rule The World,” its vicious, droning bassline and sticky, titular hook making it the perfect electroclash soundtrack for a revenge plot on an ex-boyfriend. “What you Want” offers an instrumental exercise in “synthesizers are the new guitars,” and Pilo’s FX chops really shine as he warps and distorts his sounds into an undiscovered dimension existing somewhere between both. “Loverboy” enters the more melodic, Legowelt-inspired realm of electro, pushing above and beyond the foundation of analogue minimalism with flourishes of impressive sound design to construct something both climactic and cathartic. Scopa lends her perfect coldwave sprechgesang to titular track “G.L.A.M.,” with Pilo’s vocal processing offering surprises throughout and his FX chains wielded as instruments unto themselves.



On the track “A Slow Thinning Halo,” Pilo might be conjuring the haunting vocal chops and chiptune simplicity of early Crystal Castles, but the whiplash snap of his drums and sizzling production are all his own. “Spend the Night” is G.L.A.M.’s least nostalgic—and most unashamedly pop—offering, with the mic being passed between Sana and DEEVIOUS (previously featured on Pilo and Boys Noize’s 2023 track “Pvssy.”) DEEVIOUS’ sultry singing rides atop the bassline as it hypnotically struts across the floor, while Pilo’s skillful arrangement, deft rhythm programming, and atmospheric control elevate the songcraft into full-spectrum worldbuilding.



As the penultimate track, the contemporaneity of “Spend the Night” serves as transition away from the album’s previous, past-leaning exercises, allowing Pilo to step fully into the future with “One Last Embrace.” The closing track still references aughts sounds, but it borrows so widely and prolifically that Pilo’s reassemblage can only be described as singular. Here, Pilo pushes his engineering into psychoacoustic territory, as the eerie, beautiful melancholy of “One Last Embrace” explodes into a thrashing bassline that warbles like a drowning memory, struggling against the sinking weight of time. Pilo allows it to survive for 16 electrifying, gut-wrenching bars before letting go. In G.L.A.M., as in Pilo’s career, as in life, every ending can only be a new beginning.

For soul-reggae artist Natty, music isn’t just pleasure, it is also a healing power.

The London-raised singer-songwriter has been on a remarkable journey of creative and personal discovery in recent years, moving his partner and children to rural Jamaica to live off-grid and off the land, while delving deep into studies on music’s mental and physiological properties .

The result of this journeying is Natty’s expansive, fourth album, The Divine Trinity.

Across nine tracks he employs his trademark vocal power and uplifting melodies to explore everything from earthy funk grooves to guitar-strummed yearning, emphatic spoken word entreaties and spacious, dubbed-out reggae.

Partnering with his longtime band The Rebelship once more, Natty also expands his reggae-influenced sound through the instrumental frequencies of South Asian tablas, Zimbabwean mbira and wooden flutes. “There’s so much that I’ve never done before in this record,” he explains. “We have a song in 5/4, inspired by my time learning music in Zimbabwe, as well as sound bowls, the song of the crickets from the land we live on in Jamaica and hand drums from all over. Its ancient frequencies combined with classic songwriting, allowing people to tune into the power of music.”

Before you ancients out there turn your heads and scoff at the premise of a twenty-something rock-and-roll goofball calling himself an old-anything, consider this: Mac DeMarco has spent the better part of his time thus far writing, recording, and releasing an album of his own music pretty much every calendar flip. This Old Dog makes for his fifth in just over half a decade_bringing the total to 3 LPs and 2 EPs. According to the DMV, DeMarco is 26. But in working-dog years, ol' Mac here could easily qualify for social security. To stay gold, turns out all he needed was some new tricks. It was a little space_in time, location, and method_that inspired DeMarco while making the record. Moving from his isolated Queens home to a house in Los Angeles helped give the somewhat transient Canada-native a base, and a few more months on his calendar to create did their job as well. Arriving in California with a grip of demos he'd written in New York, he realized after a few months of setting up his new shop_complete with a few new toys_that the gap was giving him perspective (insert tooth joke here). Right off the bat, from the pops and clicks of the CR-78 drum machine and acoustic strums on the album-opening "My Old Man," the synth-drenched beauty of the second track, "This Old Dog," it's clear that DeMarco's bag is filled with new tricks indeed. This Old Dog is rooted more in a synth-base than any of his previous releases, but he is careful not to let that tactic overshadow the other instruments and overall "unplugged" mood of the work: "This is my acoustic album, but it's not really an acoustic album at all. That's just what it feels like, mostly," says DeMarco. Despite the changes considered during the creation of This Old Dog, Mac DeMarco's mid-twenties masterpiece, it's clear that the engine that motors him is in no danger of slowing down.

Inspired by Dua’s own self-discovery, Radical Optimism is an album that taps into the pure joy and happiness of having clarity in situations that once seemed impossible to face. The hard goodbyes and vulnerable beginnings that previously threatened to crush your soul, become milestones as you choose optimism and start to move with grace through the chaos.

Infused with the energy of Dua’s hometown, London, the attitude of the album embodies the rawness, honesty, confidence and freedom of ‘90s Britpop. Radical Optimism transports its listener to a dreamy pop world rich in musicality, lyrically unapologetic and sonically liberating.

The 3x GRAMMY and 7x Brit Award-winning global pop powerhouse worked with a team of core collaborators throughout the project including Caroline Ailin, Danny L. Harle, Tobias Jesso Jr. and Kevin Parker.

This self-titled LP marks the fifth release of Scottish artist Murray Collier’s Dip Friso project, his longest running alias and the solitary vanguard of his own Real Landscape imprint. Across the six tracks he delivers another collection of warped percussive loops, heavily manipulated guitar work and psychedelic sound experiments that drift between popular music forms ('I’ll Get to Hiding') and whittled down takes on electric blues and shoegaze ('Another Country’). The former features the instantly recognisable croon of Still House Plants vocalist Jess HK embellishing a backdrop of tape loop alchemy, an inspired pairing given the shared history of Glasgow dwelling. ‘Thin Ayrshire’ (written with Hannan Jones) treads a similar path with Collier’s own beyond-unrecognisable voice featuring, broken suddenly by a brief flash of 12th Isle’s Loris S. Sarid & Innis Chonnel’s ‘Spalted Water Portal’ thanks to a recycled tape spool. ‘A Sorry Business’ takes on avant-jazz inspired puddle skronk, a stunted casio bleep propelling forward guitar dirge and cymbal crashes, whilst Australian minimal wave heroes The Systematics are paid homage via a farewell cover of their track ‘Midnight on Balancing Day’ (here ‘Midnight’).

All in, the album sees the project incorporating more instrumentation and a full use of vocalists, leaning less heavily on gauzy sample collage styles and providing a more introspective look at the hazy, dubwise world Collier has been building for the past half a decade.

Introducing ‘SONGS ABOUT THE SUN’ by ELWD. The London-based producer, commonly known for his signature sample style blended with live instrumentation, presents six new beats. Inspired by how the sun has always been a constant throughout his life and the nostalgia of a time when life seemed carefree, he unveils a new powerful and vitamin D-infused sound. ‘COSMIC CHAMELEON’ is a house gem that blends Balearic vibes with jazzy instrumentation, making it the perfect song to accompany a sunny, carefree day.

"No Input" is the debut eponymous EP by the electronic duo composed by the Palestinian modular synthesis artist Karim Atari, and the Italian electronic music producer and co-founder of Abu Recordings, boyjayne.

The 20-minute EP features an eclectic mix of acid, electro and downtempo dub techno inspired by the likes of Drexciya, Filmmaker, and E.R.P. With this EP, No Input sought out to make distinctive high-energy tracks for the dance floor. Their approach combines modular synthesis and sample manipulation techniques, creating a sound that is at once reminiscent of classic techno and electro and unpredictable in its novel reinterpretation.

Scored by the legendary Italian film composer Armando Sciascia, Sea Fantasy is a conceptual suite of twelve exotic themes evoking the many moods and dramas of life under the sea. Recorded in 1972 for Sciascia's own Vedette label, the album is a key recording within the micro-genre of Italian underwater library music. A mosaic of evocative modern classical, flamenco textures and a surge of raw analogue synthesizers. Mysterious aquatic music that sits comfortably alongside other Italian Soundtrack and Library recordings including the lush bossa of Daniele Patucchi's Men Of The Sea (CAM) as well as the experimental electronics of Biologia Marina by Amedeo Tommasi & Alessandro Alessandroni (Rhombus). With several cues used for the English-version soundtrack to Harald Reinl's 1976 (Erich von Däniken inspired) mondo-documentary Mysteries Of The Gods, Sea Fantasy is reminiscent of the exotic mood-music scored for Folco Quilici's documentary Oceano composed by Ennio Morricone as well as Luigi Scattina's legendary tropical sexploitation film Il Corpo composed by Piero Umiliani. This new 2019 edition has been newly remastered and expanded with additional liner notes and photos.

Remastered and expanded edition.
Legendary Italian underwater Library recording
Replica vinyl reissue of the rare 1972 LP
Mysterious aquatic mood music

Blue vinyl repress

With a voice of pure gold and a startling sensitivity for heartfelt pop songwriting, on No Reino Dos Afetos (In the Realm of Affections), Berle firmly embraces earnestness, through starry-eyed Brazilian love songs, ambient vignettes, warm, home-cooked beats and gentle strokes of MPB genius.

Maceió, the capital of Brazil’s Alagoas state on its sprawling east-coast, is home to pastel coloured colonial houses, white sand beaches and a brilliant young composer, poet and multi-instrumentalist named Bruno Berle.

With a voice of pure gold and a startling sensitivity for heartfelt pop songwriting, on No Reino Dos Afetos (In the Realm of Affections), Berle firmly embraces earnestness, through starry-eyed Brazilian love songs, ambient vignettes, warm, home-cooked beats and gentle strokes of MPB genius.

“It’s an album that was built from my desire to find beauty”, Berle explains - his simple, graceful words mirroring the graceful simplicity in his music. But amongst the simplicity, the compositions, arrangements and productions on No Reino Dos Afetos tingle with nuance and detail.

On the contemporary R&B inspired lead single “Quero Dizer” - produced by Berle and longtime friend and collaborator Batata Boy - the swirling, lo-fi, kalimba and guitar-fronted beat is turned into a feel-good hit by the ingenuity of Berle’s honey-soaked vocal melody.

Powerfully intimate, “O Nome Do Meu Amor” (My Love’s Name) is a guaranteed tearjerker, with Berle’s stunning voice soaring over gently plucked acoustic guitar and the textural flutter of soft movement, as if we hear him writing the song in the moment.

Drawing upon a close-knit, collaborative scene of Maceió artists and musicians, (of which Berle and Batata Boy are vital members), Berle also recorded some of his friends songs on the album, including João Menezes’ “Até Meu Violao”, the album’s beautifully laid back sunshine soul opener, which has all the charm of early-70s João Donato.

Having cut his teeth in soft-rock group Troco em Bala, and more recently finding himself embedded in both Rio and Sao Paulo’s contemporary music scenes - collaborating with the likes of Ana Frango Eletrico, who took the photo for the album cover - No Reino Dos Afetos is as musically diverse as Bruno himself. It’s hazy indie rock (“É Preciso Ter Amor”), calming ambient and field recording (“Virginia Talk”) as well as Berle’s own take on West African High Life (“Som Nyame”).

Instantly recognisable as a truly special artist, Berle’s character fills every corner of the sound, which is unsurprising considering he played most of the instruments.

Not much has been written written about the conceptual hardcore band inspired by and named after a 9th century antisocial loner monk-poet of China’s Tang dynasty. Han-shan the band existed from 1991 to ‘93 in California. Their lyrics covered themes of solitude, mystery, poverty, and discord, directly inspired by the verses of the titular poet. Han-shan’s music was psychopathic, with blood-curdling vocals, and messy but powerful, in the vein of Void, Siege or Septic Death. The band played to the absolute limits of their physical ability and then some, with a sound that complemented their West Coast contemporaries—bands like Heroin, Mohinder, Second Story Window, Antioch Arrow and Angel Hair. Recorded in San Diego by Matt Anderson in late 1993 and originally released posthumously in early 1994 on the tiny Soledad record label, Hans-shan’s eight song seven inch EP came packaged in a manila envelope, each one hand-printed with a woodcut block and roller, with the art and insert referencing both the poet and Tang dynasty China. LG Records has carefully reproduced this cover art and returned to the original multitrack tape. Tim Green has remixed the recording at Louder Studios for a significantly more powerful, and yes, LOUDER, 12” 45rpm release. Members of Han-shan had previously been in Suckerpunch, Brain Tourniquet, End of the Line, and John Henry West; and went on to play in Behead The Prophet NLSL, Solid Gold, Drunk Horse, Astral, Tight Bro’s from Way Back When, Sex/Vid, Very Paranoia, Low Plateau and Nudity. For fans of fast, out of control hardcore with a raw emotional edge. And saxophone.

Colombian artist Kabinett brings a soul and harmonic proposal in the many forms of alternative disco and house through embellished productions and DJ sets finding himself every time as medium for all possibilities.

Involved in music from an early age through classical music, while being exposed and inspired by his older brothers in the many forms of what electronic music was developing, Nicolás, his given name, knew that his future and purpose was only going to be around what matters him the most, music. After learning different instruments in the early years and through a mix of self-education and formal education in contemporary music and music production, as well his first steps as a DJ, at age 20 he was ready to get involved in Colombia's capital electronic music scene as curator, DJ, label owner and music producer.

Founder of vinyl house label Nómada Records next to established artist such as Felipe Gordon & Joint4nine, his mentors, Kabinett have been fed enough to developed a full curation career working for Kaputt Club, El Coq & W Hotels, and more recently Casa Cruxada where he has helped to develop an identity for each which as of today has only enriched the local scene.

More recently as head of Kaputt.wav, his new label, which is now house of artist such as Curses, Iñigo Vontier, Theus Mago, Dombrance, Damon Jee, among many more, promises to keep growing and develope music overseas.
As of his personal artist career, have count on releases in labels such as Glitterbox, Midnight Riot Records, Partyfine, Platino Records, Duro, Playground, Sonido Moderna and more recently in Prins Thomas own label, Intersnajonal which will release his third solo EP in summer 2024.
With a deep understanding and experience on the music scene and a strong influence on dance genres, Kabinett and his music transcends the listeners souls and dive deep into a conscious dance.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

P3RF3CT STRANG3RS is a collaboration between Mexican DJ/producer PAURRO and NY vocalist STEVEN KLAVIER. Featuring remixes from TAMA SUMO & LAKUTI, and MIDLAND, "RUN AWAY!" is inspired by 90s house classics & club divas, driven by a passion for melodic rhythms, organic beats, and silky smooth flow. From Brooklyn’s TOUCAN SOUNDS.

Paul Kelly"s latest album, "Fever Longing Still", his first of new original material since 2018"s "Nature", delivers 12 additions to his superb catalogue of love songs spanning more than 40 years. "Hello Melancholy, Hello Joy", as one of the new songs says. The album"s title comes from a line in Sonnet 147 by Shakespeare, whose writing has thrilled and inspired Kelly ever since schooldays. With love as the topic, Kelly finds a way to keep replenishing the creative well. Even if it can take some time for a song to surface.