Frequency Response EP marks the second entry on Equal Audio, a Various Artists release embodying the label’s philosophy in its purest form. Varied in mood, unified in simplicity, the record brings together artists with different interpretations while sharing a common focus on reduced arrangements and consistent energy. Pure tools, clear intention, no unnecessary
Shall Not Fade welcomes Pugilist for SNF140 "Maternal".
If you don't already know (and love!) Pugilist's prolific output, you need to get to know! The Naarm/Melbourne based DJ, producer and Rinse resident has released on Martyn's 3024, Melbourne's killer Modern Hypnosis, Silent Era's Of Paradise, Samurai, Rupture, ZamZam, J:Kenzo's Artikal, Sub Basics' Temple of Sound, Whities/AD93, Al Wooton's Trule, Banoffee Pies, Best Intentions and now his own buy on sight Ruff Kutz imprint.
'Maternal' is four blissey dubwise house blurring cuts. Embracing, medicinal, lush & corrective. Vibrations for heads and feet.
'Title track 'Maternal' is deep grooving infectious and honeyed house. Hypnotic, pulsating with head-meltingly warm padwork. 'Bona Fide' sees Pugilist team up with UK duo Mystic State. Drums sidestep with jazz swing while graceful piano and an ensemble of pads are topped with an introspective vocal sample dialing for your subconscious. The B1 'Anomaly' is a stepper - FWD charging drums backed with sub low pulses all brought together by trumpet echoes and woozy melodics. Finally comes 'Marigold', a soulful jungle excursion > early hours business, caressed nostalgic percussion, brushed rhythms, fleeting guitar licks and undulating vibes.
Celebrating the 10th Anniversary of Disclosure's sophomore studio album, Caracal.
This record features an eclectic lineup of vocal collaborations including The Weeknd, Sam Smith, Gregory Porter, Lorde, Jordan Rakei and many more. With a total of five singles, the acclaimed second single, 'Omen' featuring Sam Smith was the highest charting of the singles, peaking at No.13 in the UK charts, and has accumulated almost 1 billion global streams since release. The Lorde featured track 'Magnets' follows closely behind with just under 710 million streams since release. Caracal has sold over 135,000 physical copies worldwide since release and was Grammy nominated for The Best Dance/Electronic Album back in 2016.
The limited edition will be available for the first time on a 2LP Zoetrope, housed in a gatefold die cut sleeve. Each side of the vinyl is inspired by the original album artwork and campaign poster from the time, using the caracal cat and the featured vocalists illustrations to create animated movement across the discs as they spin.
Alex Rex, the project of acclaimed musician and former Trembling Bells bandleader Alex Neilson, is set to release his fourth and final studio album, The National Trust, on March 28th. Written in the wake of the sudden death of his younger brother, Alastair, the album is a poignant reflection on loss, love, and renewal, deeply rooted in the landscape of Carbeth—a cabin community in the Scottish countryside that Alastair called home. For Neilson, the cabin became both a physical and emotional project, a symbol of restoration and reconnection.
"For the first four years after Alastair died, his cabin lay empty and exposed to the remorseless Scottish weather. It came to look like a rotten tooth in a beautiful mouth. Cladding was dropping off its veneer, the ashen baubles of dead wasps nests clung to the rafters, all his possessions were just as he'd left them but eaten by mice, moths and time. Ashtrays still carried the crushed centimetres of his old tab ends. The cabins are so joyfully animated by their host's specific personality and this one looked like a haunted house. Guilt, unrealised hopes and encroaching nature yoked together in a wandering sadness. Combined with the fact that I didn't know the right way round to hold a hammer made the project of its restoration seem hopeless.”
Neilson, however, gradually began chipping away at the task, determined to transform the cabin into something he hoped would resemble “a National Trust site occupied by a psychopath,” with a little help from some friends, including Lavinia Blackwall and Marco Rea.
“They poured love into the cabin and helped restore Alastair's original vision. The project also helped restore my relationship with Lavinia which had fractured after Trembling Bells broke up in 2017. Alongside long-term Rex lieutenant Rory Haye, we applied the same intensity of dedication that we did in renovating the cabin, into creating The National Trust.”
As with Neilson’s previous albums, the recording process was intentionally unpolished, with songs presented in the studio with no rehearsals and captured in just a few takes. This raw, immediate approach amplifies the emotional weight of the album, which Neilson describes as being at a “personal apex of sour self-reflection, mock misanthropy, and self-exposure.” Longtime collaborators Lavinia Blackwall, Marco Rea, and Rory Haye return, alongside guest musicians like Jill O’Sullivan (Jill Lorean) and Trembling Bells guitarist Mike Hastings, to bring Neilson’s vision to life. The result is a deeply personal and multifaceted work, blending acid wit with haunting introspection.
The songs on The National Trust traverse a wide emotional and thematic range. The title track opens the album with a sharp and confessional edge, exploring love, loathing, and cultural critique with Neilson’s signature wit. “Boss Morris” pays tribute to the all-female Morris dancing troupe that reinvents British folk with vibrant energy, while “Two Kinds of Song” turns self-referential humour into an avalanche of remorse, culminating in the unforgettable chorus: “I’ve got two kinds of song. Which one will it be; one where I hate myself or one where you hate me?” Elsewhere, tracks like “Psychic Rome” draw from the decadence and hysteria of ancient Rome, while “The Coward in the Tower” breaks new ground as the only song Neilson has composed on an instrument before recording.
Throughout the album, Neilson’s lyricism is as vivid as ever, transforming personal tragedy into poignant and often darkly humorous art. Yet, there is a sense of finality to this work. "Songwriting has encouraged me to see the whole world as a resource. The things people say and throw away can be chiselled and polished and plopped into a lyric. It’s the same with building the cabin- scouring the edges of society for pallets, discarded wood, ornaments for the garden. But while song writing brings to life orphaned parts of my personality, the cabin is a synthesis of all my interests – nurturing my emotional health instead of exploiting it. With that in mind, I think this will be my last album as Alex Rex.”
With The National Trust, Neilson closes a significant chapter of his career, blending masterful musicianship with deeply personal storytelling. Known for his collaborations with artists such as Bonnie "Prince" Billy, Shirley Collins, and Current 93, as well as his decade-long tenure leading the psych-folk outfit Trembling Bells, Neilson has long been celebrated for his eclectic and uncompromising vision. This final album serves as a fitting culmination of his journey as Alex Rex, capturing the essence of his artistry while offering a profound exploration of loss, renewal, and the enduring power of love.
At the start of this summer, following a three-year hiatus for Daphni (punctuated only by his first ever collaborative Daphni track ‘Unidos’ alongside Sofia Kourtesis), he dropped ‘Sad Piano House’. The track represented something of a continuation in the Daphni catalogue, its roots growing from Cherry’s ‘Cloudy’ and its subsequent Kelbin remix, something in that song’s makeup having a profound effect when played on dancefloors by Snaith and countless others. ‘Sad Piano House’ deployed more intangibly irresistible bendy piano to equally satisfying effect and continues to achieve similarly rhapsodic dancefloor saturation.
Though a sizeable gap for Daphni releases, between Cherry and Butterfly however of course sits Honey, the latest Caribou album and one that saw the more instantaneous and dancefloor leaning traits of Daphni peaking through the cracks more than ever before. This blurring of the lines leads to an intriguing collaboration in Butterfly’s lead single ‘Waiting So Long (feat. Caribou)’. An unlikely duo - in that both artists are the same man, Dan Snaith - ‘Waiting So Long’ is not so much an identity crisis, ego trip, or the result of a chemical spill in the Snaith laboratory. It’s simply a track that Snaith felt for the first time belongs to both aliases, and might appeal to fans of both. He has never sung on a Daphni track before, and did not set out with the intention to do so this time, and yet this strange billing was born.
Daphni music has always been Snaith’s way of hitting directly to the core of the dancefloors he spends so much of his time playing to, and those dancefloors have been steadily expanding as his name grows, with the music following suit. This album however also draws from further back with a definite kinship to the very first Daphni album, the invigorating bag of ideas that was Jiaolong.
Butterfly is a showcase of the wonderful variety and surprising twists and turns that made that album such an exciting new prospect and that still to this day make Snaith such an intriguing DJ. There are more heavy hitters here, tracks that fill those dancefloors better than anyone, like ‘Clap Your Hands’ which picks up the energy of ‘Sad Piano House’ and flips it, exposing the gritty and intoxicating underbelly of Snaith’s hitmaking side, while retaining the playful urgency that runs through all of his work of late. Meanwhile ‘Hang’’s comic-strip horns are unpinned by gleeful force, unrelenting and thrillingly unshakeable. Elsewhere though comes a clutch of other tunes that might creep out somewhere more off the beaten path, a path Snaith has never stopped seeking in amongst his larger billings. ‘Lucky’ is squirmy and elusively intoxicating, ‘Invention’ skitters down meandering, inviting corridors, ‘Talk To Me’ grumbles and broods in the murk, and ‘Miles Smiles’ could roll on endlessly, so confident in its groove. There are no obvious peaks in these tracks or unifying moments, in fact many of them really have no business being on the dancefloor at all, and yet in the right setting, they could be the most fun to be had all night.
One such club is a good microcosm for the ethos of Butterfly as a whole. “Around the time I was finishing up this album I played a long set in a club called Open Ground in Wuppertal, Germany.” Snaith recalls, “It’s kind of, in one sense, the platonic ideal of the kind of club I’d want to play in. Every single decision has been taken, at great expense, with the aim of making the perfect sounding medium sized club room. But on top of it being the perfect acoustic environment it also is run by an amazing collection of people in a way that gives it a sense of community that dance music at its best provides. It is an absolute pleasure to play in that room to a crowd of people who come from all over. Playing in there you feel like you can play anything, and I played works in progress of pretty much every track on this album in my set there. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing a short set at a festival or in a more raw warehouse kind of club where you bang it out and only really functional music works but on record I guess the point of these Daphni records is to keep in mind a more expansive idea of dance music where the parameters are broad and the church is broad. I think that actually, putting really functional stuff next to weirder tracks (both on an album and in a dj set) might be the thing that’s still most interesting to me.”
This is the feeling that’s most palpable on Butterfly, and in every single time you see Snaith DJ. Right from the inception of the Daphni alias - and even before that – the thrill of trying stuff out, pushing at the boundaries has always been there and on Butterfly is present in all its twists and turns. It leaps all over the place and yet it hangs together, never feeling like a grab bag of dancefloor utilities but rather a distillation of all the strings to Snaith’s bow, exhilaratingly human and unified by one singular concept – simple and joyful exploration.
At the start of this summer, following a three-year hiatus for Daphni (punctuated only by his first ever collaborative Daphni track ‘Unidos’ alongside Sofia Kourtesis), he dropped ‘Sad Piano House’. The track represented something of a continuation in the Daphni catalogue, its roots growing from Cherry’s ‘Cloudy’ and its subsequent Kelbin remix, something in that song’s makeup having a profound effect when played on dancefloors by Snaith and countless others. ‘Sad Piano House’ deployed more intangibly irresistible bendy piano to equally satisfying effect and continues to achieve similarly rhapsodic dancefloor saturation.
Though a sizeable gap for Daphni releases, between Cherry and Butterfly however of course sits Honey, the latest Caribou album and one that saw the more instantaneous and dancefloor leaning traits of Daphni peaking through the cracks more than ever before. This blurring of the lines leads to an intriguing collaboration in Butterfly’s lead single ‘Waiting So Long (feat. Caribou)’. An unlikely duo - in that both artists are the same man, Dan Snaith - ‘Waiting So Long’ is not so much an identity crisis, ego trip, or the result of a chemical spill in the Snaith laboratory. It’s simply a track that Snaith felt for the first time belongs to both aliases, and might appeal to fans of both. He has never sung on a Daphni track before, and did not set out with the intention to do so this time, and yet this strange billing was born.
Daphni music has always been Snaith’s way of hitting directly to the core of the dancefloors he spends so much of his time playing to, and those dancefloors have been steadily expanding as his name grows, with the music following suit. This album however also draws from further back with a definite kinship to the very first Daphni album, the invigorating bag of ideas that was Jiaolong.
Butterfly is a showcase of the wonderful variety and surprising twists and turns that made that album such an exciting new prospect and that still to this day make Snaith such an intriguing DJ. There are more heavy hitters here, tracks that fill those dancefloors better than anyone, like ‘Clap Your Hands’ which picks up the energy of ‘Sad Piano House’ and flips it, exposing the gritty and intoxicating underbelly of Snaith’s hitmaking side, while retaining the playful urgency that runs through all of his work of late. Meanwhile ‘Hang’’s comic-strip horns are unpinned by gleeful force, unrelenting and thrillingly unshakeable. Elsewhere though comes a clutch of other tunes that might creep out somewhere more off the beaten path, a path Snaith has never stopped seeking in amongst his larger billings. ‘Lucky’ is squirmy and elusively intoxicating, ‘Invention’ skitters down meandering, inviting corridors, ‘Talk To Me’ grumbles and broods in the murk, and ‘Miles Smiles’ could roll on endlessly, so confident in its groove. There are no obvious peaks in these tracks or unifying moments, in fact many of them really have no business being on the dancefloor at all, and yet in the right setting, they could be the most fun to be had all night.
One such club is a good microcosm for the ethos of Butterfly as a whole. “Around the time I was finishing up this album I played a long set in a club called Open Ground in Wuppertal, Germany.” Snaith recalls, “It’s kind of, in one sense, the platonic ideal of the kind of club I’d want to play in. Every single decision has been taken, at great expense, with the aim of making the perfect sounding medium sized club room. But on top of it being the perfect acoustic environment it also is run by an amazing collection of people in a way that gives it a sense of community that dance music at its best provides. It is an absolute pleasure to play in that room to a crowd of people who come from all over. Playing in there you feel like you can play anything, and I played works in progress of pretty much every track on this album in my set there. Don’t get me wrong, I love playing a short set at a festival or in a more raw warehouse kind of club where you bang it out and only really functional music works but on record I guess the point of these Daphni records is to keep in mind a more expansive idea of dance music where the parameters are broad and the church is broad. I think that actually, putting really functional stuff next to weirder tracks (both on an album and in a dj set) might be the thing that’s still most interesting to me.”
This is the feeling that’s most palpable on Butterfly, and in every single time you see Snaith DJ. Right from the inception of the Daphni alias - and even before that – the thrill of trying stuff out, pushing at the boundaries has always been there and on Butterfly is present in all its twists and turns. It leaps all over the place and yet it hangs together, never feeling like a grab bag of dancefloor utilities but rather a distillation of all the strings to Snaith’s bow, exhilaratingly human and unified by one singular concept – simple and joyful exploration.
Mess Esque are a duo featuring music and instruments by Mick Turner
and words and voice by Helen Franzmann. Their self-titled album is a
beguiling travelogue of restless, somnambulant wanderings.
Perhaps best known as one of the Dirty Three, Mick’s been playing
guitar and making music with many collaborators for forty years. He’s
loved his paintings too but revered especially for his solo music - since
1997, Drag City have released four of his albums, plus an EP and an
album of the Tren Brothers (Mick with percussionist and fellow Dirty
Three-ite, Jim White) and two EPs featuring Mick as the Marquis de Tren
with Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy.
Mick’s last record was 2013’s ‘Don’t Tell the Driver’, a work that found
him departing from his traditional hermetic instrumental template by
employing a rhythm section and brass charts and even collaborating with
a vocalist. After all the purely instrumental music he’s made with Dirty
Three and solo, a singer is now part of the sound he’s hearing in his
head these days; while demoing new material, he realized that he was
again writing music that needed lyrics - and for that matter, someone
other than himself to sing them. But who? In 2019, he was introduced to
Helen through a mutual friend who’d produced her last album. Under the
name Mckisko, Helen has released three albums over the past 12 years,
working and touring with a range of Australian musicians along the way.
Her music has been described as numinous and transformative. Her
most recent album, ‘Southerly’, saw her moving into a more expansive
sound which led to an openness and excitement around further
collaboration.
Helen’s words are carefully observed, her phrasing responding intuitively
to Mick’s looping guitar figures with vocal repetitions of her own. Starting
with a feeling or a voicing, there are often no words - both players are
searching on their own paths. Then suddenly they have arrived and are
passing the emerging meaning back and forth, the rising intensity
forming a kind of undertow that pulls the listener deeper into their world.
Often, Helen would record her vocals in the middle of the night, seeking
that 2am flow, a moment of greatest isolation through which to trace her
melodie with fragility and strength. This crystallizes Mess Esque’s
intention: riding the sleepy drift through the blurred edges of the day…
time-traveling to that moment beyond stasis where sense and no sense
coincide and share space and time and energy. Viewing from afar the
immense peace of this planet when its ghost world of spirits below - the
madness of crowds, people sliding past each other faraway in the night -
are quieted at last.
With Spam Vol.2, KVR - Niels Broos, Dries Laheye & Lander Gyselinck - delivers its second statement.
Recorded in a beautiful studio tucked beneath a bridge in Rotterdam, the album distills a week of free improvisation into vivid, shape-shifting pieces. A beautiful chaos of bass guitars, synths stacked on clavs, drums and machines to get lost in, in between coincidence and intention. Jungle rhythms, elastic time, open structures and organic textures come together in a lively sound that feels playful as well as restless and deeply intuitive.
KVR is Niels Broos (Jameszoo, Binkbeats) on keys, Dries Laheye (STUFF., Selah Sue) on bass and Lander Gyselinck (STUFF., Lander & Adriaan, BeraadGeslagen) on drums.
For fans of Thundercat, Hudson Mohawke, The Comet Is Coming, Jameszoo, etc.
i am so thrilled to share the film for my concert cornucopia with you . this has been a long journey with hundreds of people helping out . i am so beyond enormously grateful to every single one of them .
i feel the modern concert film is a matriarchially friendly construct , welcomed in the current climate . where female musicians can share their worlds uncorrupted . in cornucopia , i was joined by musical director and multi instrumentalist bergur þórisson , percussionist manu delago , flute septet Viibra , harpist katie buckley and the hamrahlid choir .
i spent last decade working with 360-degree sound and visual software in virtual reality and animation, creating Biophilia and later Vulnicura as a VR album . i was deeply inspired by the idea of a fully-immersive experience spreading Utopia and Fossora into fully surround speakers . my intention was to bring what we had created for 21st-century VR into a 19th-century theatre - taking it from the headset to the stage .
this vision was realised with 27 moving curtains that captured projections on different textures and LED screens , creating a digitally animated show : a "modern lanterna magica" for live music . i also wanted to feature bespoke instruments: a magnetic harp , an aluphone , a circular flute , and a reverb chamber , specially built with an audio architect to enhance the most intimate version of a performance—in a personal chapel .
throughout this tale, there is a subplot woven in : a second story of an avatar—a modern marionette who alchemically mutates , from puppet to puppet , from the injury of a heart wound to a fully healed state . i hope you enjoy it . warmness , björk
A pandemic album of songs of heartbreak, virality, and dead rats, which Wood called "goodbye cruel world: the musical." The revealing chamber pop/folk album "In Case I Make it" (ICIMI), which Will Wood playfully dubbed "Goodbye Cruel World: The Musical," turned out to be a surprisingly strong followup to his chaotic and sardonic previous release, "The Normal Album." While divisive among some fans due to its gentler sounds and more traditional vocal stylings than most of his last work, ICIMI attracted new, older audiences and showed a more personal side that provided a new context to his discography. Widely considered to be some of his most powerfully emotional work, both the harshly introspective and humorous songwriting, as well as its unique delivery, are still distinctly Will Wood in their experimental nature and uncompromising unwillingness to conform to the expectations of both die-hard fans and audiences at large. In 2021, the underground singer-songwriter was suddenly the subject of unexpected online attention, which, in tandem with mental health struggles, inspired him to put out a "musical suicide note," intended to express parts of his artistic and personal identity that had gone largely unseen by a fanbase he felt misunderstood. Leading the album with intentionally algorithm-unfriendly singles and putting an eight-minute love ballad as the second track on the LP, Wood aggressively redefined himself as being more than just a handful of wacky, unwitting viral pops. Ironically, the surprise viral success of the deep cut "The Main Character," a relentless satire of online culture, drew attention to the album and its second biggest hit, the angst-ridden yet danceable "Against the Kitchen Floor." However, the immense orchestration and vulnerable writing have kept audiences coming back. Songs like "Euthanasia" and "Tomcat Disposables" have developed reputations as tearjerkers, and songs like "Cicada Days" and "White Noise" have become fan anthems in the years since.
If art is to be exhibited, then Ulrika Spacek will ensure that their art is collective; that even as the world becomes inhospitable to community, their intentions are an act of resistance.
Whether it is Oysterland, the self-curated night the band have been Hosting for over ten years to platform artists of other disciplines in live music spaces, or Total Refreshment Centre, the East London studio Syd runs which connects the dots between the jazz scene and like-minded experimental artists of the capital and beyond, or their creative bleed as musicians and producers over the years with the likes of Crack Cloud, caroline, DIIV, Holy Wave and Slowdive, the band’s existence is inseparable from their community.
In a hyper-individual world, the band’s fourth album, ‘EXPO’, offers an antidote. It’s there, in the shared dream logic of the music, the off-kilter melodies, jagged guitars and cirrus cloud atmospherics. It’s there, in all the things that are said and unsaid between them; there in the writing, producing and mixing processes they share in. And even as each of their parts Moves toward a unified vision, it’s never more keenly felt than in the bigger Picture to which Ulrika Spacek belong.
Though their well-established foundations are in the art-rock world - and though they are inspired by electronic elements more than ever - Ulrika Spacek are interested in the glitch that exists between the two. Their Music reckons with human warmth and digital isolation, equal parts welcoming and altogether alienating. “Our music has always been a collage - a bit patchwork, sonically - but what makes this album a landmark for us is that we went one step further and made our own sample bank,” explains singer / guitarist Rhys. They create their own doppelgängers in a world of almostreal, where the band appear as if in a hall of mirrors. Digital drums are sampled layered upon real drums, and the effect is almost like birth in reverse - pulled from the ether and returned back to the tangible world.
“There’s a lot that can be said about writing when there is no aim, there is a freedom and a purity in it which opens a door to more music, and in this case, it set a mood for a new album, one that would be colder, darker and one that would embrace electronics and new instrumentation in a new terrain,” the band share. “The album’s greater theme is isolation and alienation in an online world where it seems everybody around you is constantly exhibiting themselves, living in public wanting to be seen and heard. The age of ‘individuality’ is lonely, it’s a room of concave mirrors, and with this in mind, we set upon making our most collective effort; ‘It’s back to strength in numbers, count in fives.”
For fans of Radiohead, Moin, DIIV, Astrel K, Slowdive.
LP presented on Crystal Clear vinyl.
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
Gatzara Records presents its second vinyl single.
This record is a tribute to Jackie Mittoo, a key figure in the development of reggae, ska, and rocksteady. Known for his work at Studio One and his role as keyboardist for The Skatalites, Mittoo left a profound mark on Jamaican music with his melodic style and rhythmic approach to the keyboards.
The track is built on a classic reggae foundation produced by Sergio Caño, with a restrained rhythm and simple structure. The focus is on the organ, played by Joan Sobrevals, who carries the main line with a sober, respectful sound clearly influenced by Mittoo's school. Without seeking to imitate, the performance takes characteristic elements of his style — melodic phrasing, spaced chords, marked beats — to shape a coherent piece that remains faithful to the style.
The production maintains a minimalist aesthetic, without overloading, leaving space for each instrument to breathe and fulfil its function. The result is a serene, mid-tempo piece that invites you to listen carefully, without virtuosity, but with a clear intention: to pay tribute to a great musician who defined a sound, an era, a style.
Thank you, Jackie!
“’Death & Connection’ is a body of work born from the absence of the people who no longer hold space in our lives”, comments the band. “This record was created from a necessity to express and soothe our deepest losses; however, that was never the intention — we simply set out to make an album we wanted to hear.” With “Death & Connection”, Shields invite the audience to experience the next evolution of their sound – mature, refined and fearless. Throughout the band’s career Shields toured with bands such as Ice Nine Kills, Born Of Osiris, Chelsea Grin, Veil Of Maya, Escape the Fate or Loathe.
Barry Walker Jr. is a pedal steel player and guitarist whose roots in Americana, Country and Folk traditions influence his melding of minimalism, ambient and spiritual music. The Portland-based instrumentalist is also a member of the Rose City Band, known for his gorgeous phrasing and deft interplay with guitarist Ripley Johnson. On Paleo Sol, Walker demonstrates his singular voice as a pedal steel player and composer. Evoking the American western ranges and basins, the album embodies a longer, geologic view of time that patiently marvels at the ripples of change throughout lifetimes and ages. Walker is joined on Paleo Sol by drummer Rob Smith (Rhytion, Pigeons) and bassist and Mouth Painter bandmate Jason Willmon (Fruited Planes). Paleo Sol"s tranquil landscapes glide, built on warm finger-picked guitar figures and pedal steel swells coupled with deft percussion and bass touches by Smith and Willmon respectively. The trio plays with exceptional fluidity either completing each others phrasing or working together to build momentum. Smith notes: "The drums are not keeping time as much as evidencing its elasticity, mixing into the other instruments, changing phase states." Every gesture on the album is rich with intention, moving with grace and playing with timbre and time.
Continued Sound is proud to present The Shadow by Ojiji.
In 1979, Rupert “Ojiji” Harvey put out one of the most distinctly original albums of a generation. Combining progressive jazz-fusion arrangements with soul, funk, and reggae from his native Jamaica, Ojiji’s The Shadow is an album only he could create.
Ojiji, along with his brother Carl, were performing in nightclubs before they were old enough to legally enter. At just 15, Ojiji was tapped by reggae keyboard legend Jackie Mittoo to join his band The Cougars. Not long after, the Harvey brothers teamed up with other Cougars members to form the funk band Crack of Dawn. This union proved to be groundbreaking, not just in the soul/funk genre, but for Canadian music as a whole. In 1975, they were signed to a major label, Columbia Records, the first Black Canadian band in history to do so. Tracks like “It’s Alright” and “Keep the Faith” still echo in the halls of Canadian funk history.
Personal and industry differences caused Crack of Dawn to break up in 1977, and a young Rupert Harvey was without a band for the first time. However, the creative mind never rests. Outside of the band, Ojiji had been writing and composing his own personal songs since age 17. These songs were a fusion of the sounds and styles he’d soaked up during his time with his musical mentors mixed with new emerging musical influences he was hearing every day.
With the help of his brother Carl and some Crack of Dawn bandmates, he began recording his debut solo album The Shadow. The band's tightness heard in the intricate arrangements are a testament to their interwoven musicianship at the time. Many tracks were recorded in only one-take. Each song in The Shadow’s eclectic glory paints a picture of a young man's singular lived experience through music. Regaling us with where he’s been. Inviting us to where he’s going.
Waiting is the essence of travel. Patience is its own reward.
Two people. A Telecaster guitar with a few effect pedals. A drum machine. An audio interface is connected to a laptop. The ingredients are simple yet effective.
But any suggestion of four-track cassette machines and vintage bedsit productions is quickly dispelled by digital dubbiness and refined arrangements. A tail of reversed echos. The crystalline flourish of octave-pitched delays. Riddled hi-hats tickle and taunt. A bass drum asserts its space.
Winkler's guitar patterns have a fragmented, almost haphazard connotation. Searching in a shimmer of reverb. Until the beat, the framework, sets in to reveal structure. Intentionality. Reihse's programmed rhythms go just to the point of a groove, holding the moment of tension, knowingly delaying the gratification. Beats that have scratchy patina anda subtly playful edge; their crispness stands in contrast to the contemplative drift of the guitar. Is it a trance? Or a dance? Yes.
There are some apparent references here: a good portion of Les Disques du Crépuscule, some kraut-esque electronica, even a smidgen of Morricone / Spaghetti Western, blending into a kind of Musique Noir – yet these serve as a set of orientational coordinates, rather than quotations.
This is so far the most assured release by Periode, perhaps eschewing some of the naiveté that was wilfully cultivated in earlier output – there is no cheeky cover version this time. And no singing either. The nine pieces have the quality of a series, a variation on a mood, or a subset of moods. What emerges is an inviting swagger in the face of bleakness. There is a profound melancholy, but it is not the darker kind, and does not exclude humour.
First impressions may suggest that this is purely nocturnal music. Yet it equally evokes the harsh sunlight and baking summer heat. Or a rainy day. And transportation: the music suggests the motion of travel, even if that travel only happens within the mind. And waiting. Waiting while doing nothing much. Because that's all you can do. (Alexander Paulick)
Berlin-based Swiss vocalist Lucia Cadotsch returns with her celebrated Speak Low trio for their second album, released by We Jazz Records on 27 Nov. "Speak Low II" features Cadotsch on voice, Otis Sandsjö on tenor saxophone and Petter Eldh on double bass, and introduces guest artists Kit Downes on hammond organ and Lucy Railton on cello. "Speak Low II" picks up where their genre-bending and forward-looking debut album left off, introducing new shades into the band's sound and also diving even deeper into the songs they tackle. What makes Speak Low special is their approach to really get to the heart of each composition with seemingly minimal means, yet generating a sound which is both instantly recognisable and remarkably impactful.
"Speak Low II" comes almost five years after the band's lauded debut, and proves the depth of the band's approach right from the start. At the core of the trio's operation is an openness to their love of the music and to their surrounding scene(s). The album comes across as a unified collection of songs made truly theirs and found through listening to records and spending time with their musician friends, often on the road. The highly evolved band sound and the equality of the musicians shines through on the Speak Low sound, as the group uses their 100+ performances together as a vehicle for the development of their music.
"The first album was filled with pretty famous songs, but that was actually not at all intentional" explains Cadotsch. "Those were just my favourite songs of the previous 10 years and we started working on making them ours, musically. We were playing around with concepts for the second album, but soon realised that we just needed to find the right songs and adapt them organically, which comes through in how we interact with the songs and each other. This time around, we wanted to dig deeper and made finished arrangements of around 20 tracks, half of which we ditched in the process. The ones that made the cut have been through a lot and they just felt right for us."
In a way, the Speak Low approach could be described as archaeological. Three music lovers connecting with songs found at various sources, readily throwing away any ideas that don't seem natural to them, and hanging on tight to the ones that do.
Turns out there is a concept to "Speak Low II". It's the band itself, their shared musical development and their love of music.
"Speak Low II" will be available on We Jazz Records on vinyl (PURPLE and BLACK editions), CD and digitally. The vinyl versions come with a heavy duty tip-on sleeve and a printed inner sleeve. CD in digisleeve with no breaking plastic parts.
Tashi"s latest punk anthems: electric guitar improvisations to brutally impact us with... gentle lyricism and introspective depth! In a time of extraordinary institutional inhumanity, seeing the faces of the many deprived, what is there to feel but exhaustion? What to want but silence? Tashi seeks it all out actively, with intention. Hard truths absorbed, he enjoins power to reconstitute as spirit, to disseminate to everyone outside the walls.
