Buscar:it s thinking

How can the unfamiliar feel so close? Dookuzot, the debut EP of Floid and W92 (aka Woody92), invites listeners to venture into the echochambers of the psyche on their Omen Wapta imprint. Like a salvaged coat of arms, this 8-track release weaves the cryptic motifs of the bloodbrothers into its sonic fabric, blending unease with ease through stealthy rhythms and dissonant harmonies. Neither tempo nor zeitgeist grounds the EP; instead, it conjures a citadel of sound--an intricate fortification of motion and stillness. Cryptic, unnerving, and undeniably strange, Dokuuzot doesn't ask you to move--it compels you. With this debut, Floid and W92 draw you into their world, setting the stage for a vision that is both forward-thinking and enthralling.

Carrying on their longstanding dedication to the seminal output of Merzbow, Urashima returns with what is unquestionably their most ambitious release to date: “Collection 001-010”, a deluxe, 10 LP vinyl box set limited to 299 copies, gathering together the entirety of the project’s first ten releases, originally released in 1981. Encountering the band in its early incarnation of the duo of Masami Akita and Kiyoshi Mizutani, raw, exposed and bristling with energy, foreshadowing numerous trajectories they would follow over the coming years, these astounding full lengths - the majority of which have never been released on vinyl - come housed in a beautifully produced, deluxe wooden box, with each LP in its own individual sleeve reproducing the original artwork, and a LP-sized 32-page book containing reproductions of artworls and collages by Masami Akita, an interview conducted by Jim O'Rourke, and liner notes penned by Lasse Marhaug, Thurston Moore, and Akita himself, amounting to what is unquestionably one of the most historically significant releases we’re likely to encounter in 2025.

Deluxe Edition of 299 copies, remastered from the original analog tapes by Masami Akita, each LP comes in its individual sleeve reproducing the original artwork, also includes a LP-sized 32-page book. ** Since its founding during the late 2000s, the Italian imprint, Urashima, has become a definitive voice in the landscape of noise. Bringing forth beautiful limited edition releases, they’ve sculpted a singular vision of one of the most vibrant and revolutionary bodies of experimental sound to have graced the globe. Among the many projects that they have supported over the decades, there has been an undeniable dedication to the output of the seminal Japanese noise outfit, Merzbow, making a significant amount of the project’s out of print back catalog available across a range of formats. Now they return with what is arguably their most stunning and ambitious release dedicated to the project to date: “Collection 001-010”, gathering the entirety of Merzbow’s first ten releases, largely privately released by the band on cassette across 1981, in a deluxe, 10 LP vinyl box set. Representing what is effectively ground zero in Japanese noise and collectively amounting to some of the most sought after releases ever produced within that movement, Urashima’s truly beautiful collection comes fully remastered by Masami Akita himself from the original tapes, presenting all but a small number in their first ever vinyl pressings, with each LP housed in its own individual sleeve reproducing the original artwork, alongside a LP-sized 32-page book containing reproductions of artworks and collages by Masami Akita, an interview conducted by Jim O'Rourke, and liner notes penned by Lasse Marhaug, Thurston Moore and Akita himself. Towering with energy and groundbreaking creative vision, within the realms of noise and experimental music, releases don’t get more monumental or historically important than this!

Merzbow came roaring onto the Tokyo scene in 1979, and remains, to this day, one of the most prolific and aggressively forward-thinking projects in experimental music. Eventually becoming the solo vehicle for the efforts of Masami Akita, in its earliest incarnation the project was the duo of Akita and Kiyoshi Mizutani, taking their name from German artist Kurt Schwitters' pre-war architectural assemblage, The Cathedral of Erotic Misery or Merzbau, and quickly set out to challenge entrenched notions of what music could be. Embracing technology and the machine, even in its earliest iterations, Merzbow pushed toward new territories of the extreme, arriving at a space of pure, unadulterated sonic onslaught that has continued, for over 40 years, to set the pace for the entire genre of noise, and has remained one of the movement’s most important, definitive voices, continuously laying the groundwork for countless artists who have followed in its wake.

When dealing with historical gestures, there’s an invertible aura surrounding original line-ups and early statements, and rightfully so. It is often within a band’s debut that we catch the purest glimpse of the raw energy and creative ferment that made them what they are. This is certainly the case when regarding the coveted early releases of Merzbow, capturing the emergence of the project in its form as the duo of Masami Akita and Kiyoshi Mizutani as they helped set the blue print from the then emerging movement of Japanese noise. Over the course of its nearly five decades of activity, Merzbow has always been noted for how prolific and ambitious the project is. This was no less the case in the very beginning. While they were active for roughly two years prior, in 1981 alone they issued ten self-released cassettes numerically titled “Collection 001-010”, albums which have both individually and collectively become holy grails in the realms of noise, with only two - “Collection 007” and “Collection 009” - ever receiving vinyl reissues prior to now.

As Lasse Marhaug deftly articulates in the newly commissioned liner notes for “Collection 001-010”, despite having been recorded in different location across a span of time, the sum total of Merzbow’s first ten releases might be best regarded as a single release to be listened to in the same, durational sitting, with the material standing well apart from what most came to expect from Merzbow, while foreshadowing numerous trajectories the project would take over the coming years. Not only do these recordings feature a vast array of instrumentation - tapes, acoustic and electric guitar, violin, drums, voice, recorder, organ, found sounds, clarinet, homemade and prepared instruments, a vast arsenal of effects and electronics, and piano, to only begin to scratch the surface - the majority of which would disappear from the project’s active sources of sound generation over the subsequent years, but there is a slow pacing and raw sense of openness and exposure that reveals strong connections to the avant-garde improvisations of groups like AMM, Musica Elettronica Viva, and Gruppo di Improvvisazione Nuova Consonanza, the psychedelia of groups like Taj Mahal Travellers and Flower Traveling band (both of whom Akita mentions having seen in youth within his interview with Jim O’Rourke), and rock in general - albeit in fully abstracted forms - unspooling as brittle, pointillistic, textural, raw and abrasive forms, that occasionally flirts with unexpected tonal sensibilities. As Marhaug describes it in his excellent liner notes: «Sonically, “Collection” sounds more sparse and stripped. It’s dry sounding, up-front, no reverb, and there’s less heavy low-end grime and thin on the signature frequency sweeps. Viewed in a 1981 context, musically, it’s more akin to what the LAFMS (Los Angeles Free Music Society) pool of artists were doing at that time than what was happening in industrial music... There’s a strong playfulness throughout, like the sound objects are being explored for the first time, without neither restraint nor hurry. Events are allowed to be fully examined before the music moves on, or simply cuts off. To a large degree, the music on “Collection” feels acoustic in nature, although a Electro-Harmonix ring-modulator features prominently throughout.»

Easily described as a rarely encountered revelation into the original and earlier documented studio sound of Merzbow, “Collection 001-010” collectively amounts to an engrossing sonic journey in its own right, while also allowing for important, often overlooked connections drawn from numerous other creative wellsprings, notably free jazz, underground rock, the output of European and Japanese avant-garde music, as well as Dada, Fluxus, and Mail Art, much of which, beyond the illumination made possible by the sounds, Jim O’Rourke’s fantastic interview with Akita, published in the booklet, further explores, offering great insights into the origins of Merzbow and the thinking behind the project, as well as aspects of the earliest days of Japanese noise.

Japanese pianist Yumiko Morioka initially released Resonance, her first and only solo recording, on Akira Ito's ‘Green & Water’ imprint in 1987. Whilst by no means a commercial failure, the album was mostly found in the background of Japanese TV documentaries, maternity clinics and healing shops before drifting into relative obscurity.

By 1994, Morioka had relocated to America and her solo music career had given way to the joys of starting a family and her new life in California. It was, and still is, a shock for her to learn that Resonance had gained the attention of a new audience outside of Japan through blog posts and YouTube album uploads.

After hearing Resonance for the first time ourselves back in early 2017, we tried for months to track Morioka down about a reissue. This news reached her at a particularly trying time in her life following the devastating loss of her home in the 2017 California wildfires.

Her home had recently been razed, destroying all of her possessions, musical equipment, scores and recordings. Morioka was lucky to escape with her life; her quick thinking neighbour raised the alarm in the middle of the night giving her just enough time to escape safely before then tragically watching her home burn to the ground.

In the aftermath, Morioka returned to Japan in an attempt to rebuild her life. She found work writing music for commercial projects and pop acts before recently opening her own chocolate shop in the Jiyugaoka neighbourhood of Tokyo - back where it all began.

‘’Space and time moved at a different speed than now’’ – Yumiko Morioka

A lifelong student of the piano, Morioka was born in Tokyo in 1956. A child prodigy, she took up the instrument under her mother’s tutelage at just three years old and by her teens she had won multiple piano scholarships. Her talent was so obvious that she was invited to train in America, eventually graduating from the San Francisco Conservatory of Music with a piano major during John Adams’ reign as head of composition.

After graduation, Morioka returned to Japan but struggled to find her place musically, working mostly on commercial songwriting assignments. Frustrated, and at times embarrassed by her musical output, she turned to the works of Brian Eno and the surroundings of her coastal home in the Izu Peninsula south of Tokyo for inspiration. It was here that she began to work on the compositions that would eventually become Resonance.

Recorded on a Bösendorfer grand piano, much of Resonance was made in an attempt to soothe her creative soul. Constructed from unwritten improvisations with additional instrumentation added later, Resonance explores the space between notes. As such, it's a record that feels open and inviting, permeated throughout with a sense of confident serenity.

The sparse, delicately played notes are allowed to reverberate and echo through the spaces between themselves, giving each track a feeling of both grandeur and intimacy. Like the great pioneers of classical and ambient music, there's a timelessness to Resonance - a comforting, familiar feeling, as if these melodies have always existed.

Resonance drew influence from the popular environmental music culture prevalent in Japan during the late 80s, but it was also heavily inspired by Western musicians such as the avant-garde Parisian composer Erik Satie. Listening today, it still feels fresh and pertinent; a warm, contemplative reflection of a travelled woman.

Resonance has been lovingly remastered by Séance Centre's Brandon Hocura and given new artwork by Métron Records’ label head Jack Hardwicke.

PHONOLAB is the new collaborative project from Anglo-Italian musician, solo artist and producer Gaudi and experimental electronica composer Eraldo Bernocchi Both fearless creators known for pushing the boundaries of sound for almost four decades, the duo's new album 'Disturbia' is set for release on the 11th April via Subsound Records and features contributions from heavyweights including Gerald Casale (Devo), Flowdan, Bill Laswell and the late Mark Stewart (The Pop Group).

With its eclectic blend of electronic innovation, deep basslines, and cutting- edge sound design, 'Disturbia' challenges and captivates listeners with its bold, genredefying vision, resulting in a deeply immersive and forward-thinking sonic experience. The title of the album was created by late post-punk pioneer and lead singer of The Pop Group, Mark Stewart, who was recording with PHONOLAB, shortly before he died. Some of the disruption and creative defance Stewart embodied can be heard throughout the album including tracks such as the glitchy 'Lapis Lazuli' and album title track, 'Disturbia.' The album acts as a homage to one of the most infuential post

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Chris Ryan Williams (trumpet & electronics) and Lester St. Louis (cello & electronics) work together as HxH (H by H). Their skills have seen them move smoothly across various situations, constantly carving out new terrain and working in new configurations of musicians at a rapid pace. While worth reading, their biographies capture only a part of their complex rhizome.

HxH started about three years ago. The project is a direct response to all their activity with others and more importantly all their future leaning sonic desires. Their debut album STARK PHENOMENA is both their first studio recording and their first physical release. The album is appropriately set to be released by KMRU on his growing label OFNOT. It’s an ideal introduction to their sound world and their approach.

HxH describe their music as “electroacoustic,” but until recently the presence of Black musicians in this field has been greatly overlooked and largely ignored, making this phrase only partially appropriate. What HxH do really is to always be unpredictable. Every gig is a new soundscape. Sometimes you might hear echoes of Autechre or Robert Hood but then the sound-field will open up into a new terrain all their own. Chris and Lester bring together techniques from across the sound spectrum of electronic music and also draw on their deep backgrounds in Jazz, Improvisation, Classical and Noise scenes to create a sound that is true to them. After all, these two have worked with the likes of Bennie Maupin and the music of Black Fluxus artist Ben Patterson. Their rhizome is deep.

One of the ways that their unique approach manifests is in their merging of both acoustic instruments and electronic instruments in real time. This is something few have managed to do – but their spontaneous leanings work in both complex and accessible ways because of their deep understanding of landscape crafting. You can hear this clearly on the track “Pyrex Vision.” Their approach makes it tempting to compare their music to Sun Ra jamming with Laurel Halo – a comparison that would be only partly accurate.

Chris and Lester note that the sounds on STARK PHENOMENA are “imbued with such hopeful, gracious care; one that is far flung from obsessive carefulness or fuck the world carelessness, but more a caring embrace without the fuzziness of nostalgia.”

They note that when they began working together, they would “always come back to speaking on our concepts of an architecture of the expanse,” noting that their live sets often take on the joyfully noisy task of “dreaming big.” For HxH it was essential that STARK PHENOMENA have a quality that is “almost sculptural.” They consider the album “an object to be viewed from all sides.” This kind of thinking has resulted in them directly engaging with numerous sculptors and artists including Torkwase Dyson. Shape wise HxH’s sound fields work in a parallel to Dyson’s black architectural works.

They also note that the opening cut “BEACH” (the opening and longest track from the album) was “written weeks after our first gig in a studio session donated to us by our dear friend jaimie branch.” And that Pyrex Vision “was continually being edited months after sending our ‘final mixes’ to KMRU.” Their sound sources and samples come from studio sessions, live gigs, durational installations, 3am improvised downloads and more.

KMRU notes: "I think there is an in-between layer on this record. I was first caught by the Pyrex Vision track which organically flows between monologue, subtle field recording, and instrumentation. It's such a beautiful track, evoking deep emotion through simplicity. STARK PHENOMENA effortlessly glides in between imaginative mosaics of sounds — free yet complex — unlocking memories within its layers."

Marking the fourteenth chapter in the Swinging Flavors series, Beat Machine Records proudly unveils a gripping release by Helsinki-based producer DJ Sofa. Packed with deep, nostalgic energy, this installment delves into the darker side of drum and bass, with a sound inspired by the genre’s golden era of the late 90s and early 2000s.

DJ Sofa, known for their emotive and intricate productions, brings a raw, jungle-infused energy to the forefront. Drawing inspiration from jungle and breakbeat hardcore, their sound reflects a deep connection to the classic UK rave era while maintaining a forward-thinking edge. Known for captivating listeners with rich atmospheres and complex breakbeats, DJ Sofa’s music resonates strongly with audiences far beyond their Finnish roots, particularly within the UK underground scene.

“Drums For The Lost,” the lead track on Swinging Flavors #14, exemplifies this blend. A menacing roller, it marches forward with unwavering determination, offering a guiding light through shadowy soundscapes. With its haunting basslines, intricate percussion, and mysterious atmosphere, the track is a testament to DJ Sofa’s ability to create immersive and emotionally charged music.

The journey doesn’t stop there. Swinging Flavors #14 also features a remix of “Drums For The Lost” by Siu Mata. The Parisian producer reinterprets the track with their signature style, adding pulsating rhythms and hypnotic layers that elevate it to a peak-time dancefloor weapon. Siu Mata’s remix infuses the original with a modern edge, creating a vibrant and dynamic sound that bridges the gap between tradition and innovation.

Swinging Flavors #14 is available in both digital format and as a limited edition 7” vinyl, ensuring it finds its way into the hands of collectors and music lovers alike. DJ Sofa and Siu Mata’s contributions to the Swinging Flavors series underscore Beat Machine Records’ commitment to showcasing the best of underground electronic music. With its bold exploration of drum and bass and an eye on the future, this release is set to captivate audiences worldwide.

OHYUNG aka Lia Ouyang Rusli describes their new album as “my trans self and my former self in conversation, from both perspectives.” The record represents their lengthy, complicated, but crucial journey between lives, strewn with both doubt and excitement. It is an ecstatic, pop-oriented shift in direction from an artist primarily known for noise, experimental hip-hop, and ambient music, but carried with sleek confidence, maturity, and a silvery, hallucinogenic shimmer that reveals Rusli’s experimental background. It is, writes Rusli, “sometimes written from a dark place and other times from a place of happiness.” Throughout, darkness and light rise and fall in layers of phased strings, trip-hop drum production, and earworming vocal lines.

Also a film score composer, Rusli’s songwriting craft is meticulous and nuanced. You Are Always On My Mind was, perhaps surprisingly, formed primarily from processed “generic string loops” found in online sample packs - a strange and wilfully jarring reminder that what seems to be is not always what is. Recontextualised, these string loops enshadow the simplicity of their origins and reveal a grace and purposefulness perhaps not even imagined by their authors, subtly drawing out euphoria and tension in equal balance.

Rusli also writes of the influence of rave culture central to their transition, and of the record’s production and theme. “It’s a declaration of love for raves and the dark hazy rooms that helped me to be free and true with myself— seeing other people who are so free and beautiful and thinking that one day that can be me— that’s me in the future.” But there is also a fear and unease present. Key moment “no good” explores “the worst version of myself as a trans person, feeding doubt to my pre-transition self” with its core lyric anyone can see / I’m no good for you, delivered over a relentless beat, swooning strings, and glistening synthesis.

Later, “i swear that i could die rn” renders a Spectreish Motown beat lamenting and lush with breathy synths and knife-edge melodies that eventually yield a hazy, gliding string section, created again from mutated, spliced, and transitioned royalty-free sample packs. The track is about “seeing my beautiful friends at raves and feeling at home appreciating the harsh noises of hardcore techno and acid. Feeling that I could die at this moment and be happy.”

Raúl Monsalve y Los Forajidos welcome listeners to a new day with SOL, their groundbreaking second album for Olindo Records. Venezuelan rhythms and traditional songs blend with spiritual jazz, psychedelic funk, and Afrobeat, delivering an exhilarating, boundary-pushing experience.
Led by Venezuelan bassist Raúl Monsalve, the group gained international acclaim with Bichos (2020), praised for its Afrobeat influences from legends like Fela Kuti and Orlando Julius, alongside Afro-Venezuelan rhythms. Featuring Luzmira Zerpa (Family Atlantica) and Betsayda Machado, the album earned praise from The Wire, Songlines, Gilles Peterson, and others, with airplay on BBC 6 Music, NTS, and Worldwide FM. This success brought performances at Super Sonic Jazz Festival and Shambala Festival.
SOL marks a leap forward for Los Forajidos, evolving from a studio project into a cohesive ensemble. Monsalve, now contributing bass, vocals, and percussion, is joined by vocalist Lya Bonilla, keyboardist Edgar Bonilla, flautist/guitarist Nando Guerrero, saxophonist Andrés Vela, drummer Mario Orsinet, and percussionist Yves Prud’homme.
The album features contributions from producer Nick Woodmansey (Emanative), singer Carlos Talez, mixing by Malcolm Catto (The Heliocentrics), percussionist Gustavo Ovalles, and Congolese guitarist Kiala Nzavotunga.
Drawing from Venezuelan traditions while embracing modern influences like George Clinton, Herbie Hancock’s Mwandishi, Jeff Parker, and Nyege Nyege Tapes, SOL bridges cultural heritage and forward-thinking artistry.

2023 Repress

Robag Wruhme, working on the material. On the very same piece. And performing two different movements. First, thinking in category Album: who will hear it where? also: mood, position, length. Second, thinking in category Maxisingle: a spinning-tool for the club – another form of another functionality: accelerating the rhythm, lowering the harmonicmelodious, still preserving the nature of the song. And each version should make you HOT for the other!
Nata Alma, a voice loses itself in the infinite, a car brakes, a horse whinnies, the sun scorches relentless. Further, further on, towards the flickering, stoically. Water, flames on the horizon, Fata Morgana, a mirage. »And you might say, we've got no place to go?« - okay? no notokay at all!: Shuffle!
Nata Alma, melancholic Eight-minute-forty. A love song, a wave good-bye: »And you might say, that you need me no more?« sings Sidsel Endresen alongside Bugge Wesseltoft's swells and ebb-aways – metal never sounded so longing; a buzzing swing, a siren call from afar.
Robag Wruhme takes a seat at the organ and plays minor bass notes. He gets up, leaves the room and lays down a dry rock of funk: wooden kick on wooden snare, tight-cut voices, driving hi-hats and shakers, gated synth danglers and percussion loops. Relentless, stoically. »And you might say, that it's over?« – relentless, maybe, but that's how he creates the Further: keep going! dance it off! a new day rising!
And right here. Flip it and keep on moving: Venq Tolep. A summer meadow, grass-stains, a gentle breeze, an early smell of hay. Venq Tolep. Endorphins tickle under the skin. A
percussive spectacle, dance of the insects. Hopping around in flat shoes, the beat is phat and reverberated by a cluster of trees. Stabs on the e-piano set in, picturing the euphoric moment when Loving-feelings walk hand-in-hand with a Hint of Melancholy.
Robag Wruhme, Nata Alma and Venq Tolep - music for dance floors, inside and outside, music for the summer, day and night, and for convertibles on the way there.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

My Boy, the third solo record from New Zealand singer/ songwriter Marlon Williams, announces an artist emerging anew. Gone is the solemn, country-indebted crooner with the velvet voice - in his place comes a playful, shapeshifting creature. Following the release of his second album, 2018's Make Way For Love, Williams' toured the world, playing major festivals and collaborating with Lorde, Yo-Yo Ma and Florence Welch. He also forged a fledgling acting career with roles in films The True History of the Kelly Gang and Netflix series Sweet Tooth, as well as a cameo in Oscar winning film A Star Is Born. My Boy parlays this flush of worldly experience into a vivid record as spirited and kinetic as the unfolding life of its performer. "I've always explored different character elements in my music," says Williams. "And the more I get into acting, the more tricks I'm learning about representation and presentation. To get braver and bolder with exploring shifting contexts and new ways of doing things." As the pandemic paused global travel, Williams found himself at home in New Zealand, reconnecting with family and friends. Soon new demos and lyrical themes emerged: of self-identity and escapism; tribalism and a gnarled family tree; and ruminations on the role of masculinity and mateship. Co-produced with Tom Healy and recorded at Roundhead Studios in New Zealand, My Boy finds Williams' leading a new band through a set of genre-hopping tunes: from the cheery sway of `My Boy' and chugging `80s noir sheen of `Thinking Of Nina', to the charging synth of `River Rival', and the sultry pop jam `Don't Go Back.' All this sonic and emotional whiplash is intentional, and ultimately My Boy sees Williams having fun, even while interrogating the behaviors of himself and those around him.

My Boy, the third solo record from New Zealand singer/ songwriter Marlon Williams, announces an artist emerging anew. Gone is the solemn, country-indebted crooner with the velvet voice - in his place comes a playful, shapeshifting creature. Following the release of his second album, 2018's Make Way For Love, Williams' toured the world, playing major festivals and collaborating with Lorde, Yo-Yo Ma and Florence Welch. He also forged a fledgling acting career with roles in films The True History of the Kelly Gang and Netflix series Sweet Tooth, as well as a cameo in Oscar winning film A Star Is Born. My Boy parlays this flush of worldly experience into a vivid record as spirited and kinetic as the unfolding life of its performer. "I've always explored different character elements in my music," says Williams. "And the more I get into acting, the more tricks I'm learning about representation and presentation. To get braver and bolder with exploring shifting contexts and new ways of doing things." As the pandemic paused global travel, Williams found himself at home in New Zealand, reconnecting with family and friends. Soon new demos and lyrical themes emerged: of self-identity and escapism; tribalism and a gnarled family tree; and ruminations on the role of masculinity and mateship. Co-produced with Tom Healy and recorded at Roundhead Studios in New Zealand, My Boy finds Williams' leading a new band through a set of genre-hopping tunes: from the cheery sway of `My Boy' and chugging `80s noir sheen of `Thinking Of Nina', to the charging synth of `River Rival', and the sultry pop jam `Don't Go Back.' All this sonic and emotional whiplash is intentional, and ultimately My Boy sees Williams having fun, even while interrogating the behaviors of himself and those around him.

In the words of Hamlin Garland....I remember a hundred lovely lakes, and recall the fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees. The trail has strung upon it, as upon a thread of silk, opalescent dawns and saffron sunsets. It has given me blessed release from care and worry and the troubled thinking of our modern day. It has been a return to the primitive and the peaceful. Whenever the pressure of our complex city life thins my blood and benumbs my brain, I seek relief in the trail; and when I hear the Coyote wailing to the yellow dawn, my cares fall from me - I am happy. Coyote wail away all your troubles. Their dub sensibilities to the fore and supported by ambient textures and chunky bounding percussive rhythms.Another unique listening experience from the IIB overlords

Brian Auger’s Streetnoise, recorded in 1969 with Julie Driscoll and The Trinity, stands as a landmark of late 1960s eclecticism, where the boundaries of jazz, rock, folk, and soul blur into a cohesive, genre-defying masterpiece.

Auger was moving The Trinity on from their R&B, jazz beginnings and for Streetnoise, together with Driscoll, delivered a record that channelled their mutually progressive vision. Julie's haunting vocal performances were the perfect counterpoint to Auger’s innovative instrumentation, creating a sound that was both avant-garde yet deeply soulful. “We aimed to challenge expectations, ” Auger recalls. “Every track was a canvas to experiment and push the envelope.”

The album’s gatefold sleeve design, created by Ralph Steadman, inspired by William Hogarth's 18th-century satirical etchings, was as groundbreaking as its music. This was not just a cover, it was a bold statement about art and society, perfectly mirroring the music’s blend of historical reverence and forward-thinking innovation.

Musically, Streetnoise is a kaleidoscope of styles including jazz and R&B, fusion, folk, rock and gospel flourishes. "Ellis Island, " and “Finally Found You Out” are both intense instrumentals that embody the intense fusion of jazz and rock the group was known for. "Indian Rope Man" is one of the standout tracks. A cover of Richie Havens' original, that inspired The Charlatans ‘Indian Rope’ and All Blues, a bold reinterpretation of Miles Davis’ iconic Kind of Blue masterpiece, on which Driscoll's vocal performance may be the highlight. "Flesh Failures (Let the Sunshine In)" is a hauntingly beautiful cover of the finale from the musical Hair. Auger's own compositions from the opening instrumental 'Tropic Of Capricorn', to the introspective solo piano and vocal Looking In The Eye Of The World' display Brian's multiple talents.

Celebrated for its fearless creativity across all 16 tracks, the album is testament to Brian Auger and Julie Driscoll’s visionary artistry. It remains a must-listen for anyone exploring the dynamic intersections of jazz, rock, and soul. The album’s reputation has only grown with time, cementing its legacy as a cornerstone of experimental music.

Streetnoise; A wholly unique album from an equally unique group

Following his contribution to FUSE’s Various Artist release last summer with the standout ‘Life’s A Bleep’, Melbourne-born, Berlin-based DJ/producer Reflex Blue returns to Enzo Siragusa’s renowned imprint with his first full EP on the label, ‘Fragments’.

His fusion of deep, sub-heavy house, heavily influenced by turn-of-the-90s UK tech house and forward-thinking electronic spheres, has welcomed releases on labels such as Limousine Dream, Kalahari Oyster Cult, and Craigie Knowes, while making appearances at the likes of Slapfunk, S.A.S.H. and more.

Now, with ‘Fragments’, he takes his sonic explorations to FUSE once more, delivering a high-energy selection primed for dancefloor impact. ‘Ruff City Dub’ brings heavyweight low-ends, shimmering textures, and UKG touches to kick things off , setting the tone for the EP’s dynamic and versatile feel. ‘Tightening The Screw’ follows with crisp drum programming and hypnotic, off-kilter synth work, offering a clever balance of wonk and precision. On the B-side, ‘Love 2 Rhythm’ oozes funk and fluidity with its rolling percussion, soulful vocals and rubbery bass licks, while ‘Freakin’ In The Neighbourhood’ merges influences from rave, electro and more with a modern, high-energy twist for a no-nonsense, late hours hitter.

Muireann Bradley is a young blues, ragtime, roots and folk guitarist and singer based in Ballybofey in County Donegal Ireland. “This is my first album. Most of these tunes were originally recorded by the great blues men and women who were making records from the 1920s and 1930s right up in some cases to the early 1970s. I have also found inspiration for the renditions recorded here in the playing of some of the musicians who began recording this music in the 1960s and later, and who in some cases learned at the feet of the greats. Many of these guitarists played pivotal roles in the 1960s blues revival and subsequent “rediscovery” of many of the greats of country blues. I grew up steeped in these old blues in the hills overlooking the valley of the River Finn just outside the town of Ballybofey in County Donegal. My father would play this music constantly at home and wherever we went in the car and talk about it endlessly whether anyone was listening or not, telling stories about the lives of these musicians as if they were legend, mythology or the evening news. My father could of course play all this stuff on guitar, I remember watching him when I was very young and thinking “I want to be able to do that”. When I was nine he agreed to teach me and bought me my first little travel guitar. I worked hard to learn how to play but as time wore on I seemed to have less and less time to practice as I became more and more invested in the combat sports I was regularly training and competing in. Then in March 2020 the first Covid lockdowns happened and all contact sports were shut down. I was lost for a while but soon found my way back to the guitar. I was now listening, playing and practicing with a new intensity and focus. In a very serious moment, I wrote out a list of tunes I was going to learn. The first tune on that list was Blind Blake’s “Police Dog Blues”. I’m not sure now how long it took to get that arrangement together but when it was ready we videoed me performing it and posted it on YouTube. It ended up getting a lot of attention, I remember my parents being quite shocked and soon after that Josh Rosenthal got in touch… and here we are! Each individual track on this album was recorded live in the studio and represents one entire take with me singing and backing myself up on guitar simultaneously. Most are either first or second takes. Nothing has been added or taken away, no overdubs or modern recording tricks of any kind have been used at all so at least in some respects this album has been recorded in the same way as those classics of the 1920s and 1930s

Repressed Blood Red Vinyl of NECK DEEP's sencond full lenght proper, originally from 2015. Kerrang!: "Life's Not Out To Get You" is a must-listen for any fan of pop-punk." #31 Greatest Pop-Punk Albums of All Time - Alternative Press: "Neck Deep have solidified their position as one of the leading bands in the new wave of pop-punk. Top 10 Essential Records of 2015" - - NME: "Neck Deep have produced an album that is both anthemic and emotionally resonant." - Rock Sound: "Neck Deep have delivered their most mature and accomplished album to date." #3 on Rock Sounds Top 50 of 2015 Following "Wishful Thinking," with their second studio album, "Life's Not Out To Get You", Neck Deep, released what is easily one of their most career defining albums and one of the largest albums in the pop-punk genre. - Featuring fan favorite songs: "December," "Can't Kick Up the Roots," & "Serpents" - DIY wrote the "full-length feels both quintessential and refreshing, a modern classic_The hooks are glorious, the bounce is addictive and it's a little rough around the edges for good measure." In the little over a decade since Neck Deep formed in the Barlow brothers' spare room in Wrexham, Wales, a lot has changed. From the scrappy, naively hopeful beginnings that define the starting of so many teenage bands, the pop-punks have gone on to be one of British Rock music's most successful global exports in recent memory: top 5 records in both the US and UK, global touring, viral hits and over a billion plays, just some of the fruits of ten years spent mastering their craft. - For Fans Of | Blink-182, Green Day, & State Champs