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The Madlib Invazion Music Library Series Entry #3: Drummer and Producer J-Zone offers his take on The Ultimate Beats, Breaks and Funk. This is the next up in a series of music library releases, with future volumes produced by DJ Muggs, Karriem Riggins and more. The Madlib Invazion Music Library Series was created by Madlib and Egon to give their creative friends a chance to stretch out and indulge in whatever type of music they wanted. This music was created for easy, one-stop clearance in film and television synchronization usage and for sampling. You can also enjoy these albums in the way that many do with the best of the best vintage library catalogs – listen, ponder, repeat.

Obituary's death metal debut album Slowly We Rot was a ground-breaking release at the end of the 1980s. As one of the pioneers of this genre they created a heavy album where everything was monstrous. From their down-tuned guitar riffs, deep growls and moans and distinct tempo changes. The songs are often slowing down to a doomy tempo, a revolutionary thing at the time of release. Slowly We Rot is inspired brilliance, where the meaning of the title is illustrated in the music and lyrics. Overall, you're in for one hell of a package with this album, as this is the true classic from the death metal.

The Floridian death metal band Obituary is one of the most successful death metal bands of all time. With the exception of their 1997-2003 split, they continue to perform live around the world.

Obituary is available as a limited edition of 2000 individually numbered copies on coloured (solid yellow & transparent green mixed) vinyl.

Spinnin' Records, one of the most influential dance music labels, celebrates its 25th anniversary with the Chapter 2 compilation featuring a further selection of iconic hits that have shaped the global electronic music scene.

Since its founding in 1999, Spinnin' has been a trendsetter in electronic dance music (EDM), nurturing superstar artists and groundbreaking tracks across house, future bass, big room, and deep house genres.

This edition of Spinnin' 25 Years...Chapter 2 double vinyl LP collection includes the hits "Lay Low" by Tiësto, "Turn Up The Speakers" by Afrojack & Martin Garrix, "Satisfaction" by David Guetta & Benni Benassi, "Intoxicated" by Martin Solveig & GTA, "Gecko" by Oliver Heldens, "Sex" by Cheat Codes x Kris Kross Amsterdam and 25 more tracks showcasing their signature sound and major contributions to the label.

Spinnin' 25 Years...Chapter 2 is available as a limited edition on blue vinyl. The iconic Spinnin' logo is printed with an uv spot varnish on the gatefold sleeve.

Brazilian duo DEAFKIDS returns with a vital and combustive new album, CICATRIZES DO FUTURO (SCARS OF THE FUTURE).

This nine-track sonic assault forges a path beyond the conventions and boundaries of static musical genres. Here, electronic fury and feverish organic percussion collide with a relentless Latin American punk spirit.

Vinyl is opaque orange with black dot splatter. Limited


PRESS FOR PREVIOUS ALBUM ‘METAPROGRAMACAO’ (NR113)

LEAD REVIEW IN WIRE MAGAZINE: 'BRAZIL'S DEAFKIDS PERFECT AN UNHOLY COLLISION OF DUB, METAL AND PSYCH ON THEIR CACOPHONOUS NEW ALBUM'
'OPENER 'MENTE BICAMERAL' SOUNDS LIKE BAD-TRIP MINISTRY AND THE SEVEN MINUTE CENTREPIECE 'RAIZ NEGATIVA' IS ABSOLUTELY HUGE' 4.5/5 NARC

“ONE OF THE MOST INDIVIDUAL ENDEAVOURS OUR COMMUNITY WILL DELIVER THIS YEAR” ZERO TOLERANCE.

9/10 REVIEW IN LOUDER THAN WAR: “. IT'S NOISY, IT'S INDUSTRIAL, IT'S PUMMELLING AND ULTIMATELY, IT'S COMPLETELY SATISFYING..

Conceptually, the album is a visceral diagnosis of a world intoxicated by its own fictions
of power, tracing the anatomy of a systemic grand deception and exploring its mechanics
of psychological, social, and material domination, the indelible marks imprinted on bodies
and minds and its catastrophic consequences.

It is a journey from the poisoned and addicted collective psyche to the desperate search for an antidote, while the future seems to be already cursed by the very forces that pretend to build it. Yet, for all its thematic weight, CICATRIZES DO FUTURO is hypnotically danceable - physical and ritualistic music that demands body movement as a form of mental cleansing. The album doesn’t just reflect a fractured and violent world — it breathes desire to live and resist through new sonic paths

Lontra is the new project from Brazilian born, Colombian based producer, and musician, Guille Katorzi. The inspiration and influences for this particular project were drawn from diverse sources, including disco, house, Nigerian boogie & afrobeat.

The instrumentals were and produced in Bogotá with Guille laying down the guitar & bass parts which the songs were built upon. After sending the demos to vocalist Sir Jean (Voilaaa/Sir Jean & NMB Afrobeat Experience), with an invitation to collaborate, he was thrilled to receive a warm response to the songs from Sir Jean and so travelled to France in 2023 to record vocals in the singers' home town of Lyon. Returning to Bogotá, a selection of top brass musicians contributed their blazing horns to the project.

Opening up the EP, "Money, Money" serves up a lively disco beat with percussive Afrobeat highlights, funky guitar licks & Afrobeat inspired horn parts, backed by an irresistibly groovy bassline, setting the scene for Sir Jean's lyrical warning "money cannot buy your soul".

Dropping some of the Afrobeat accents and staying closer to the centre line, "Life Is Movement" is a dancefloor focused track where Katorzi's guitar hook pairs with a restless bassline over which Sir Jean's vocal delivery shines. The flipside begins with a sensuous overture on "Mysterious". A loose Afro-beat & guitar syncopation provides an inviting space for the horn section's refrains and solos. The arrangement allows plenty of room for the listener to become intoxicated by the groove, before Sir Jean opens his heart with the emotive ode to someone we learn of only as..."Mysterious".

Closing out proceedings is a more driving club track. The Lyon & The Hunter... where Sir Jean sings a warning wrapped in metaphors while Lontra throws down a club focused punch that deftly dances between funk, house and afro flavours while the scorching horns set the lot aflame.

The culmination of different inspirations and intonations imbues the project with a vivacity and richness in colour that reflects the multi-cultural assembly of players. Canopy is delighted to welcome the talent of Lontra to the family and are happy to say that this is the first in a number of exciting projects that this artist is serving up

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 strongest Japanese covers of Grover Washington Jr. and Kool & the Gang's representative songs are now available on 7-inch vinyl for the first time!

Side A, "Ja Ashita Ni Sureba?" is a cover of Grover Washington Jr.'s famous soul/R&B song "Just the Two of Us," released in 1980. The song depicts the human weakness of putting off troublesome tasks, with lyrics that play on the ears, and an arrangement that retains the atmosphere of the original song while still being danceable, making it a superb track. Side B features a cover of the legendary funk band Kool & the Gang's 1981 hit "Get Down On It," titled "Netanone." This powerful double-sided single will have you intoxicated by the gap between the cool, danceable sound and the humorous lyrics!

A long-lost Japanese acid folk gem, Niningashi’s 1974 private press debut Heavy Way shimmers with originality, deft song writing and a dream-like groove.

Although he was training as a pharmacist, Kazuhisa Okubo was much more interested in prescribing musical medicine.
A coming-of-age album, Heavy Way captured a turning point in Okubo’s life, and Japanese society more widely as a nostalgia for the pastoral calm of the traditional life, met the cosmopolitan thrill of coffee, sex and cigarettes in the big city.
Intoxicated by Tokyo, driven by a passion for music and surrounded by a thriving acid folk scene, the young student filtered his experiences through a psychedelic cocktail of soulful influences from the US and Japan.
Niningashi was his first band, and Heavy Way was their only album. It was honest and raw, deep and strangely funky, in an off-beat kind of way. Across nine tracks, Okubo and the 6-piece band put their own spin on the new folk sound of Japan, combining witty lyrics with electric guitar-driven solos and crisp, understated grooves.

Melancholy and profound, opening track ‘Ameagari’ feels like a synthesis of Harvest-era Neil Young and Haruomi Hosono’s Happy End. Then there’s the whimsical washboard country sound of ‘Semai Boku No Heyade’; the moody, low-lit charm of ‘Restaurant’; and ‘Hitoribotchi’, a sensitive portrayal of childhood, steeped in memories of rainfall that will resonate with fans of Woo and Mac Demarco.
While Okubo would go on to taste success with psychedelic folk bands Neko and Kaze, the latter of which scored three #1 albums, little is known about his mysterious debut with Niningashi.
Self-released by Okubo in 1974, and featuring album artwork by his brother, it has slowly generated a cult following online, intrigued by its soft and enchanting sound. So few records were ultimately pressed that those remaining have fetched up to £1,500 online.

Featured on Time Capsule’s era-spanning collection Nippon Acid Folk, Niningashi’s Heavy Way is a deep-cut grail of a vibrant time in Japan’s musical history, where even the pharmacists were making jams.

Volume 1 of this expertly curated project of 90s Italian House - put together by Don Carlos.

If Paradise was half as nice… by Fabio De Luca.

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 Acidboychair music project started in the early noughties as a commentary on what journalist Simon Reynolds would summarise a few years later as Retromania. Initially conceived by Thomas Baldischwyler and Andreas Diefenbach as a performative revival travesty with large-format drum computers and synthesizers reconstructed from cardboard, everything took a surprising turn when DJ Mooner (the man behind the now defunct Munich music label Erkrankung Durch Musique) took an interest in the adventurous audio material produced by Baldischwyler. In 2005, the LP 1987 (EDM1016), produced almost exclusively with long-forgotten software (SoundEdit 16, RB-338, etc.), was released on Mooner's label. As a result of the growing number of bookings, Baldischwyler had to think about improving the performability of his intentionally amateurish productions. Fortunately, the Ableton Live programme became a DAW with a MIDI sequencer and support for VST plug-ins as early as 2004 - and this made it easier for him to execute his intuitive, error-friendly version of acid house. This can be heard on the first two sample-heavy tracks on the A-side of Come Down Easy, which were recorded in 2005 and 2006 respectively at Acidboychair gigs at Hamburg's Golden Pudel Club and Munich's Registratur. The first two tracks on the B-side (produced sometime between 2006 and 2008) were actually supposed to be part of a solo release on the Acido label run by Dynamo Dreesen, but this never materialised. However, the final tracks and the 133.3 BPM lock grooves that follow are the title and central to this catalogue number TBG123: Through ethno-musicologist Arthur Boto Conley, who had already released a one-sided 12 on his label with material from one of Baldischwyler's audio installations, he met Florian Meyer (Don't DJ) and Marc Matter (Spoken Matter), who introduced him to their collaborative project Institut F?r Feinmotorik (IFFM). Baldischwyler's attempt to approach the sound aesthetics of IFFM led to the tape 60 Minutes Of Barely Modified Lock Grooves (TCCC06), recorded in Rome in 2018. A buyer of this tape introduced him to the Detroit collective Pure Rave, which he immediately contacted and introduced to the work of the IFFM. It was important for Baldischwyler to have an analogue update made and so both the Detroiters and IFFM, who now live in Berlin, were given 8 copies of EDM1016's backstock to remix the material in their own way. At their jam in Detroit, Pure Rave opted for the almost identical material that IFFM had also used for a live performance in the Hamburg project space Beek. The dominant jumps in both arrangements come from the track Eightyseven, produced in the early 2000s for the LP 1987, an awkward remix of the Spacemen 3 track Come Down Easy, which is also referred to in the liner notes on the inner sleeve of TBG123. The almost two-decade-old revival idea thus turns into false memory syndrome and runs into a - in keeping with our times - clean-cut (endless) groove. Kassem Mosse (The KM of MM/KM) on Come Down Easy after a first listening session: I think it all works very well as a mix, no matter where you start it carries you further forward back in the loop. if I understand the liner notes correctly, it's about the music's turn from tradition preservation (doing everything right) to ecstatic delusion (not doing everything right when intoxicated). Now that I'm reading again instead of listening, the titles give me a different understanding of the connections; how the skipping belongs together, which playtime is connected. Now I can name my favourites. Thank you for the journey!

Angelo Harmsworth's lands on Warm Winters Ltd. with his newest album titled 'Without Blinking', imbued, as usual, with a kind of gentle de(con)struction. Comprising of two longer compositions and a shorter piece featuring Felisha Ledesma, 'Without Blinking' is music on the verge of collapse, barely held together by its syrupy textures, intoxicated rhythmic gestures and characteristically raw emotionality. It's Harmsworth trying to map the limits of the senses, playing with our perceptions of time, place and sound, creating something hallucinatory, pseudo-slow-motion, yet fundamentally cathartic in its extremes. He describes his approach as "gestural complexity alongside uncomplicated tonality", and recommends listening with your "eyes wide shut" – telling descriptions from an artist who tries to reconcile false dichotomies through intense yet captivating sonics.

'Without Blinking' follows Harmsworth's releases on enmossed/Psychic Liberation, Angoisse, Opal Tapes, and Lime Lodge, and continues his ongoing collaboration with Felisha Ledesma.

After over a year spent in a slight creative slump in a crumbling terraced house in Tottenham, Jam Baxter rang his label boss while heavily intoxicated to request they fly him to Bangkok forthwith, to rejoin forces with '...so we ate them whole' producer and engineer, Chemo. After an initial period of understandable hesitancy, the flights were booked and Baxter found himself suddenly regurgitated from the belly of a Jet Airliner into the magical and surreal surroundings of Mansion 38.

Mansion 38 is the name of the apartment block in Bangkok in which Baxter wrote the entire album, all the while going slowly insane on a heady mix of local liquor and multicoloured pharmaceuticals. The album is very much a product of the month he spent there in a dream-like state, becoming a delusional half-man half- goat figure to be admired and feared in equal measure.

Despite not being the wholesome and creative Zen retreat he anticipated and most probably needed, the backdrop of seedy late nights and impulsive tropical hedonism has resulted in some of his most intriguing and honest work to date. Chemo once again provides the haunting and evocative canvas that is all too perfect for Baxter's colourful imagery and dark psychedelic storytelling, blending a huge array of influences into an album that flows seamlessly from start to finish.

With comrades Lee Scott and Trellion flying to Bangkok on a whim to record their contributions and with videos shot in Bangkok, Hanoi and London this is truly an international project born of grand ambition and abject madness.

Mansion 38 is clear proof that after several years and multiple solo and group projects, Jam Baxter is still angrily shoving the boundaries of hip hop and lyricism further outward.

As deep and wonky as it gets, Buffalo bass wizard isded is back with some potent dubstep saucery in the form of Swang EP - the latest release on Truth’s Deep, Dark & Dangerous imprint.

One slurp of the producer’s potion will see you hypnotized and intoxicated in equal measure as the four cuts of the most matured and delectable bass seep through your veins.

Tribal feels, sub-shattering lows and crisp percussion all coalesce to create the perfect conditions to take the step into the unknown crevices of your own mind.

Ready to get swang? We didn’t think so.

Aerials live, dials tuned, Transmission Towers broadcasting. On either side of the river Mersey, transcendental communications are traded back and forth. Two late-night revellers, one firing messages filled with music, the other returning them laced with lyrics. The result, a dopamine hit of oddball machine soul, melded with a highlife, Afrofuturist touch. Wonky and murky yet deeply emotional, Transmission One, is a debut album that also marks the first release on Luke Una’s É Soul Cultura label, encompassing expertly the off-kilter atmosphere the label sets to orbit.

A synthesised landscape with a Northern charm, Transmission Towers marry the musical worlds of two artists that last collaborated over a decade ago. 10 years have passed, lives have been led, but a gravitational pull has placed Mark Kyriacou and Eleanor Mante back in each other’s spheres on opposite sides of the city of Liverpool. Energised with a newfound desire to strip it all back to the sounds that influenced their formative years in the late ‘80s and ‘90s - astral travelling, intoxicated on Motor City techno, Black Dog IDM and mystical Sun Ra.

Mark half Irish, half Greek Cypriot, Eleanor half Nigerian, half Ghanian, the music contained within is an alchemy of those roots and the pivotal acts that buried deep into their minds. A cosmic contrast, part machine-made, part distinctly human. Take the opener ‘UP’, an ESG-channelling, sci-fi punk beatdown or the polychromatic hyperspace anthem ‘Roller Skater 23’.

Transportive throughout, you ride the solar waves, pace and emotion ebbing and flowing. Tracks like ‘Go Slow Heart’ and ‘Cosmic Trigger’ step to a slower beat but hit with a punch. The former, a slo-mo blast of celestial tenderness, the latter an otherworldly, chugged-out lunar excursion, micro-dosing on whacked-out Wah Wah and Eleanor’s ethereal vocals. Beaming love letters to space and back, ‘Sparse’ marries the organic with the artificial, pianos and percussion circling around synth pads and broadcasting bleeps.

Elsewhere, vibrations move faster. ‘Mega’ strikes, fusing sonic tribalism with psychedelic swirls, as ‘Everything’ sweeps you up in its extra-terrestrial new wave grip. Synth stabs and basslines fizzing from every angle.

Demos of Transmission Towers music surfaced on Luke Una’s radar, making him stop in his tracks. Something magical was emerging, perfectly aligned with the E Soul guardian’s tastes. Guidance followed, quickly turning into conversations about Transmission One becoming the first release on Luke’s own label.

Escapist and futurist yet grounded and relatable. Transmission One is synthesis meets sentiment with a deep, spine-tingling soul at its core.

Returning to Intrepid Skin after her brilliant debut EP, and following on from a string of acclaimed releases since then, Berlin-based producer, DJ, and label owner Valerie Ace presents four new cuts of powerful hard dance and techno. Strass and Stress is out 1st March as both vinyl and digital.

With a background in organising DIY raves and a commitment to community-led efforts in electronic music, Valerie carefully fuses references from a range of genres into a singular, contemporary take on techno. Guided by an instinctive ear for experimental, groove-driven frameworks, her strain of dance music is hard-edged but mischievous, playful but heartfelt.

Diving straight into the peak hours, opening track 'Taking a Risk' is a swirl of hard kicks, frantic alarms and distorted leads; a statement of intent for what is to follow. Hot on its heels is the aptly-titled 'Slay'- a marching roller with double drops of acid, warped sonics and echoing glitches. Plunging into a hazier zone, 'Anxious not Afraid' takes an intoxicated spin on psytrance, building a vast acoustic space with equal parts tension and release. Closing off the EP, 'How To Fit In' jumps back onto the floor with an unrelenting spiral of
industrial-leaning hard drum chaos.

Strass and Stress is an all gas no brakes package of four crucial cuts from a producer on top of her game.

Long time Leng recording artists 40 Thieves are back with one of their most notable singles to date – a surprise collaboration with two NYC disco originals, storied vocalist Cinnamon Jones and multiinstrumentalist/producer Gary Davis.

San Francisco outfit 40 Thieves has been serving up cosmic, dubbed-out and otherworldly contemporary disco treats since the mid 2000s, and have been part of the Leng family since 2011. The crew, headed up by Layne Fox, Jay Williams and Corey Black, have released countless killer cuts on the label, as well as an expansive
debut album, 2014’s The Sky Is Yours.

They’ve worked with other artists before, but nobody at the same legendary level as Cinnamon Jones and Gary
Davis. The latter cut his teeth as a musician working with iconic disco producers Patrick Adams and Peter Brown at their P&P Records stable, before becoming a producer and artist in his own right writing and arranging the disco classic ‘Got To Get Your Love’ performed by Clyde Alexander & Sanction.

Jones, meanwhile, has enjoyed a hugely successful career both in her native New York (as Joyce Jones, an original member of First Choice) and on the West Coast, where she not only became an in-demand performer, but also snagged a role in the Supremes biopic Dream Girls.

‘The Gift’ is one of Jones’ most cherished solo songs – a joyful celebration of a new day dawning that has long been popular in her live sets. With input and instrumentation from Davis and a fantastic delivery of her own lyrics by Jones, 40 Thieves has successfully re-framed the track as a sunrise-ready future Bay Area free party
favourite; a dubbed-out, suitably cosmic creation that’s presented in three potent versions.

Leading the charge, and stretched across side A of the vinyl version is the band’s ’Disco Mix’ which boasts a fully realised instrumental arrangement and extensive use of passages from Jones’ vocals. Not all the lyrics are present as the Bay Area band has chosen to focus on selected lines that most neatly fit their musical vision and
celebrate the joys of dancing at sunrise. There are more spaced-out keyboard solos, sharper guitars (smothered in effects in true 40 Thieves fashion) and sound design that’s as immersive as it is heady and intoxicated.

On the flip is the ‘Disco Dub’. A bona-fide dub disco chugger rich in relentless synth-bass, addictive guitar licks, echo-laden vocal snippets, sparkling nu-disco electronics, tactile, deep house style electric piano stabs and cosmic effects aplenty, it’s a track tailor-made for slowly shuffling while the sun peeps over the horizon.

To complete an inspired package, 40 Thieves have also included a killer DJ tool: a ‘Beats’ take that wraps energy packed percussion hits, trippy electronic noises, trailing dub delays and sparse melodies around a metronomic drum machine beat. It’s a wavy, groovy and pleasingly mind-altering way to conclude one of 40 Thieves’ most magical EPs to date.