Suche:its not over

Embrace The Abandon is the new project by THE MON, the solo vision of Urlo, vocalist, bassist, and founding member of the Italian heavy-psych veterans Ufomammut.

Structured in two complementary chapters — Songs of Abandon (November 7th, 2025) and Songs of Embrace (March 6th, 2026) — the project tells a journey of duality: loss and surrender on one side, acceptance and rebirth on the other.
The first chapter, Songs of Abandon, is perhaps the most intimate and vulnerable work Urlo has ever created.
Born in a moment of solitude and personal darkness, the album originated from a radical exercise: writing one song a day, for nine consecutive days, using only acoustic guitar and voice.
A collection of stripped-down, emotionally raw ballads. Rooted in acoustic textures and intimate songwriting, these songs explore loss, vulnerability, and the quiet spaces left behind — a personal exorcism of what could have been but never was.
Later, these sketches were shaped into fully realized tracks, with lyrics and subtle layers of sound — not to overwhelm, but to underline the fragile, raw atmosphere that pervades them. The result is a stripped-down, emotionally charged collection that embodies an inner search: the power of music as a tool to face abandonment, to dig into oneself, and ultimately to glimpse the possibility of an embrace.
With Embrace The Abandon, THE MON reaffirms itself as one of the most personal and uncompromising projects.
It is a body of work that fuses vulnerability and strength, speaking directly to the listener with sincerity, leading them through shadow towards light.
An intimate yet powerful sound experience, intertwining the minimalism of acoustic folk with the dark, visionary tension that has always defined Urlo’s artistic path.

Lukah’s unprecedented trajectory shatters new heights with A Lost Language Found, his most thoughtful, sonically-diverse record yet. With the multiplatinum OG Statik Selektah on production duties, Lukah’s by now iconic, razor-sharp pen-game goes toe-to-toe with some of the best. Trading verses with Houston innovator Bun B, Memphis legend 8 Ball, and the larger than life Killer Mike, all parties involved operate at the peak of their skill. The first of what will be multiple collaborations with heavyweight hip-hop producers, this new LP establishes what we already knew in our hearts: Lukah is here to take over.

The stage set to deliver this latest opus is intensely personal: in the heart of his community, Lukah holds court with his trusted fellows at his great grandmother’s house in French Fort, Memphis, a historically black neighborhood long rec-ognized as a stately, proud vision of Black suburbia in a city still healing from deep racial trauma. Recently laid to rest in Elmwood Cemetery, the pain and strength of mourning her influence is present in the deep lyrics of A Lost Lan-guage Found, where Lukah traces not just his own legacy, but that of the linguistically rich and diverse dialects of his people. The cover image depicts the game room of the house, a place that once hosted civil rights leaders and revolu-tionaries, now a monument both to a history of leadership and to its future. For the first time, Lukah himself appears on the album art to mark this significant occasion, flanked by his partners, the symbolic source of knowledge in his hand. Listening to Lukah spit has always been a privilege and a revelation. His artistic power lies in uncovering secrets thru torrents of lucid, poetic rhymes. The listener is invited to share in this bountiful feast. Witness the real god expansion.

The album is available as a limited edition vinyl release of 500 copies in gatefold jacket.

Acclaimed electronic musicians, producers and sound architects Max Cooper and Rob Clouth team up for a new collaborative EP; a dark, playful four-track dive into ambient, breakbeat and techno’s subconscious flow, featuring a standout vocal performance from South London rapper FLOHIO.

Recorded over a series of spontaneous London sessions, “8 Billion Realities” channels years of creative exchange between two of the genre’s most quietly innovative artists and is a result of a decision between the longtime friends to refrain from conceptual overthinking in favour of instinct and joy.

As long-time admirers of each other’s audio/visual work, Cooper and Clouth collaborated in London together after both emerging from intense, idea-heavy album cycles. What followed was a series of exploratory sessions, half-improvised, half-built around half-formed thoughts.

The result is a club-ready EP that feels alive and human: imperfect and hypnotically rich.

“Rob Clouth has been one of my favourite electronic music producers since I first heard his work in 2011,” says Cooper. “His work is more full of ideas and structure than anyone else.” “We were both coming from extensive conceptual studio albums and both in the mood for simplifying things and having some fun with the music, so that’s what we did”.

For Clouth, no stranger to Max Coopers Mesh label having previously released an array of EP’s plus his 2020 debut album “Zero Point” this record marks a new chapter, both creatively and personally.“Something pretty new for me is collaborating,” he says. “You kind of have to when to stop, because if you develop an idea all the way to its endpoint, the other person has nowhere to jump in.”

The first “A Moment Set Aside” began as a break from another idea, a live, unplanned improvisation based around arps and ambience. “The track was written in about as long as it took to play it,” says Cooper. “It was pulled from a 1 hour recording session, more or less as you hear it… the energy and excitement grew as the unplanned moment bore some magic.”

“The lesson being that sometimes it’s helpful to set aside a moment without forcing results, and let the subconscious have something to say.” What followed was darker, heavier. “Asymptote” is detuned techno. Subversive and euphoric in its descent. “We found a sort of brain mangling, half consonant, half wandering detuned techno pulse, which we started chatting about being a sort of pit of spiralling body parts we were falling into,” says Cooper. “It was a lot of fun to work on and let loose with bigger kicks than I usually ever get to unleash.”

Then came “8 Billion Realities”, featuring a standout rap performance from FLOHIO; an emerging figure in the UK grime and rap scene. The track was inspired by conversations about algorithmic echo chambers and hyper-personalised online worlds. Frantic, direct, and South London to the core, FLOHIO brings this tension to life. Her sharp, intense flow cuts through distortion and rhythm, landing the track somewhere between chaos and control instantly making it one of the most striking moments in either artist’s catalogue. “A different reality for all 8 billion of us,” says Cooper. “We weren’t sure if it would work… but there was something about the energy of the percussive idea and the story which felt like it might fit.” “Then FLOHIO had a play with it and straight off the bat absolutely killed it, not just with the lyrics and energy, but the harmonising too, it was a beautiful process.”

The final piece on the EP “Candeleda” originated from Clouth’s solo experiments with a live rig made entirely of vocals and keys, using his self-developed “cheatbox” system. “He put forward a beautiful stumbling melodic sequence which we bounced back and forth adding harmonies and synth layers,” says Cooper. “It rounds off a collection covering some of the breadth of music that we both love.”

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Nils Frahm has unexpectedly confirmed details of a new collection of solo piano music, his first album since 2022’s three-hour Music For Animals. Day will be released by LEITER on March 1st, 2024, and it will be available on limited edition vinyl as well as via all digital platforms. Recorded in the summer of 2022 in complete solitude and away from his studio at Berlin’s famed Funkhaus complex, it is preceded by a single, ‘Butter Notes’, out on January 19. Day may come as a surprise to those who, over the last decade, have watched Frahm shift slowly away from the piano compositions with which he first made his name in favour of a nonetheless still-distinctive approach that’s considerably more instrumentally complex and intricately arranged. In addition, in 2021, having spent the early part of the pandemic arranging his archives, he released the 80 minute, 23-track Old Friends New Friends, a compilation of previously unreleased piano music intended to enable him to ”start over” with a clean slate. Judging from the extended, ambient nature of Music For Animals, it proved a successful gambit, but Frahm has never been able to resist returning to his first love, and those who enjoyed earlier acclaimed albums like The Bells, Felt and Screws will once again revel in Day’s familiar, personal style. Day, which contains six tracks, three over the six-minute mark, is the first in a pair of albums Frahm has lined up for 2024. In keeping with their nature, however, he won’t be making a song and dance about the release. Instead, he’ll resume his ongoing world tour, which has already included fifteen sold-out dates at Berlin’s Funkhaus as well as a show at Athen’s Acropolis. It will continue with shows all over the world, among them several sold-out dates at London’s Barbican in July 2024, where he previously curated a weekend of music, film and art, Possibly Colliding, in 2016. The album is best enjoyed in the manner in which it was recorded, in the intimacy of a peaceful, cosy room. There are muffled pedal creaks on the cyclical, quietly jazzy ‘You Name It’ and, during the palliative ripples of ‘Butter Notes’’ arpeggios, the sound of dogs barking in the streets outside. The compassionate, hesitant ‘Tuesdays’ and emotionally ambiguous ‘Towards Zero’ linger with the poignant persistence of Harold Budd’s earliest work, while ‘Hands On’ is a sometimes brighter, airier tune that sets its own, deliberate pace, and, as he has on occasions before, ‘Changes’ sees Frahm employing elements of his instrument’s construction in a ‘prepared piano’ fashion. Characterised by its confidential mood, Day confirms that, while Frahm is arguably now best known for elaborate, celebratory concerts calling upon an arsenal of pianos, organs, keyboards, synths, even a glass harmonica, he’s still a prolific master of affecting simplicity, tenderness and romance.

The word "amateur" originates from the Latin word "amator," meaning "lover" or "admirer". This Latin term is derived from "amare," which means "to love". The French adopted "amateur" from Latin, and the English then borrowed it from French, initially retaining the sense of someone who loves or is devoted to something. Over time, the English usage of "amateur" also developed a meaning related to a lack of professional skill or experience. How did a word derived from love become a slur? Is love really so defenseless? They say love conquers all, but in reality isn’t love quite ridiculous? It has no intention, no motive, no agenda. How could it possibly prevail? It can’t be bought or sold, or so they say.Its mere existence can't be proven or even measured. What an impossible thing. Trying and failing, time and time again, no wonder cynicism always seems to win. I see “amateurism” as a delighted, even foolish, protest. Protest against everything. Of what’s expected of someone, or expected of someone to desire or strive for. To be elite, to be expert, to be professional, to be a master, to excel and succeed. Where’s the joy in that? I just want to have fun. I want to want. I want to love. And keep doing it, forever. I want to have fun, even when it’s tiring and sometimes even heaven is boring as hell. I want to be bad. I want to do my own thing. “I vant to be alone”. I want to be someone so dedicated to their passion that it starts to seem like there’s something wrong with them. All the way. We can take it all the way, and never get it back. ” - Molly Nilsson Amateur is the 12th studio album by Molly Nilsson. Deep in the teeth of a career that threatens to tip into something resembling a “legacy,” Molly Nilsson celebrates with an album recorded instinctively, quickly and bursting with so many moments of emotional brilliance and clarity it may be her greatest yet. Hers has been a career spent reaching out, perennially powerful in her earnestness, a warrior ridiculously defenceless and armed with a glittering sincerity. Shearing herself of the machinations of the music industry, recording at home, writing direct to the heart. Amateur is a jubilee for losers. A treatise in 13 songs, Amateur states clearly that we should live our life with eternal curiosity, offers us an open hand of comradeship out of the rat race. The songs on the album are both some of the most personal of Nilsson’s career and the most anthemic. First single How Much Is The World asks us to re-evaluate value in the face of a Neo-liberal system squeezing the life out of our loves. Pulsing opener Die Cry Lie satirises the commercialisation of emotion in the form of a shout-along diss-track. With a pounding rhythm track held down by gorgeous chord changes, heartbreaker Valhalla carries the torch for the main themes of the album: never growing up, making mistakes with kindness, moving on. When the drums crash in on the line “It’s going to get better now, you’ll see, going to be much better off without me” there is a world of feeling swirling about in the vocal delivery. One reading of the track might be that it’s a break up song but the subtext is classic Molly Nilsson: by living truthfully, making mistakes, we’re active agents against the myriad oppressions of the world. All The Way takes the theme for a run into the eternal sunset. It’s a manifesto for living fully. “Take it all the way, and never get it back” - it’s the process that’s the important point. The journey not the destination. Big Life, follows on like a part 2: An ode not only to Molly Nilsson’s career of endless gigs, endless connections with people, it’s a massive ode for following your dreams, doing it yourself. Closer The Bitter End is a powerful anthem for friendship, another definition of love infused in Nilsson’s work, A beautifully poignant ode to comradeship til the end, it seems to be the songwriter approaching aging, approaching life’s inevitability with the same vigour and earnestness, the same love of life she enjoyed at the onset of her career. There are moments on Amateur shrouded in reverb, slightly out of focus, forcing the listener to step deeper into the Mollyverse.. Nilsson’s open-armed beseeching to the world permeates every beat, every chord. These are songs exploding with life: the chunky, aggressive bassline on the punker Get A Life can’t hide its massive, catchy chorus. The sweeping Swedish Nightmare might be a tongue-in-cheek self-reference, but at its heart it’s a song about the duality of living life large, what is a dream, what is a nightmare? Molly Nilsson says you can’t have one without the other, and why would you want to? Here’s to making mistakes.

Recital releases The Holy Restaurant, the new full-length album by Derek Baron, and their first solo LP since Curtain (Recital, 2020).

The album is built from years of miniature transcriptions of improvisations, functioning in many ways as a sister to Curtain. Half-thoughts and mistakes are revisited, gilded, and illuminated. The floorboards of the album are laid with piano, organ, string pads, while serrated accruements (distortions, flourishes, and recording interferences) step and drop overhead. The resulting conflux, as Baron notes in the accompanying booklet “becomes the point and the problem to explore.”

The second track “Oven Girls” opens with us galloping on a horse in some video-game meadow on a bed of MIDI strings. Abruptly, a helicopter soars over us and we transition to a latticed guitar and woodwind exploration. The album rolls on in this fashion, juxtaposing musical half-sentences within a museum of sounds rag-picked from history and daily life. Emotional interviews with Midwestern friars who build and sell caskets are set against gothic piano and guitar duets. On “Music in the Casket,” A disorienting and hilariously epic guitar solo erupts. The penultimate titular piece, “The Holy Restaurant,” sets a text written by Baron’s grandfather. A small chorus voices his words, echoing the humanistic storytelling of “Blue” Gene Tyranny’s A Letter From Home. Under sunlit piano progressions, a fleet of smokey trumpets emerges.

Running throughout the album is a series of “traces”: short melodic phrases painted over again and again with different real and MIDI instrumentation. The “luxurious asceticism of doubling” as Baron puts it. They explain, “Part of the allure for me is that the ‘original’ material is itself kind of thin, sketchy, meaningless, maybe calling attention to itself only by way of a felicitous mistake. Hearing, transcribing, and learning what was basically only ever played first on accident becomes the guiding concern.”

The album’s shifting, variegated forms and voices pass quickly; the record feels both comforting and elusive, suitable for any hour of the day.

The Holy Restaurant features guest players Ed Atkins, Lucy Liyou, Quentin Moore, Emily Martin, Dominic Frigo, Jacob Wick, and several of Baron’s family members. It is released in a limited edition vinyl pressing of 200 copies, accompanied by a booklet of effusive program notes by the composer, alongside an assemblage of photographs, scores, and artwork.

The Dead 60s seminal self-titled album gets a timely Deluxe edition reissue on Vinyl for its 20th Anniversary, on Deltasonic Records



“Back in the day, punk and dub weren’t just sharing space—they were smashing into each other headfirst. Late '70s Britain was a pressure cooker, and for kids like me, growing up between Brixton’s bass bins and the chaos of King’s Road, that collision was everything. Jamaican sound system culture met punk’s raw spirit in a haze of smoke, sweat, and feedback. It wasn’t about genre—it was about energy. Identity. Defiance. so when The Dead 60s came along, post-Britpop and post-bullshit, it felt like someone had dusted off the blueprint and run it through a battered old tape echo. These weren’t just lads with good taste—they understood the assignment. They took the DNA of two rebel cultures and mutated it into something that could stand tall in the 21st century. Dub-soaked, punk-fuelled, dripping with that Liverpool attitude. I remember first hearing them and thinking—yeah, here we go again. Not in a retro way, but in a real way. Guitars that cut like sirens in the night. Basslines fat and warm, straight out the Channel One playbook. Lyrics that painted the grey corners of Britain like CCTV poetry. It was the sound of youth under pressure. The sound of not fitting in—and not wanting to.

Their debut album dropped in 2005, and it hit like a flare in the dark. “Riot Radio” was a pirate broadcast from the concrete frontlines. “Control This” swaggered with menace and reverb. It was like someone opened a time capsule from the punky-reggae party and rewired it for a new generation.

Now, with this 20th anniversary vinyl reissue—complete with the full dub companion produced by Central Nervous System—we get to hear the bones and blood of it all. The dub versions pull the tracks apart and let the ghosts speak. Reverb, delay, space—it’s not just production, it’s meditation. Revolution slowed down to a heartbeat. It’s music that makes you move and think. What they’ve done here is more than remix a record—they’ve revealed its soul. That’s what dub does when it’s done right. And The Dead 60s, they got that. They weren’t tourists in the culture—they were students of it, shaped by it, and ultimately, contributors to the legacy. Liverpool’s long had a love affair with Jamaican music—you can hear it in the streets if you’re really listening. The Dead 60s tapped into that lineage, but they brought their own thing to the table. Punk's fire. Dub’s depth. Ska’s bounce. All filtered through a Northern lens and blasted out like protest graffiti. This 20th anniversary reissue ain’t about nostalgia. It’s a reminder. A celebration. A call to arms. Music like this doesn’t belong in a museum—it belongs on a system, shaking walls and waking minds. Crate diggers, completists, young punks, old heads—this one's for all of you.

So put it on and turn it up. Let the punk edge sharpen your thoughts, and the dub shake your bones ‘cos this isn’t just a reissue - it’s resistance on wax.....”

‘Icon’ is an overused word when it comes to describing singers and musicians, but when it comes to Nina Simone there are few artists that the word describes more accurately. The ‘High Priestess Of Soul’ is surely one of the most iconic singers of the 20th century, and one whose fame and acclaim stretches far beyond conventional black American music circles. 

Nina Simone has featured on Ace and Kent CDs before but this is the first time she’s had one all to herself. “Let It All Out” is the first and only Nina Simone collection to draw repertoire from every label she recorded for between the late 1950s to the late 1970s. 

Not a traditional ‘Best Of’ or ‘Greatest Hits’ package (although the performances included here ARE among her very best, and do include most of her Greatest Hits!) it is a singles collection that presents Nina Simone’s soul and R&B-slanted 45s in chronological order. Invariably they are the definitive versions of the songs, whether she recorded the original versions or not. 

As well as almost all of her American pop and R&B chart hits from 1960 onwards, “Let It All Out” also contains all of Simone’s UK chart hits from the same period – several of which were more successful here than they were back home, including both versions of her biggest British hit ‘Ain’t Got No; I Got Life’, a UK #2 that did not chart at all in the US as was the case with the belated UK Top 5 hit ‘My Baby Just Cares For Me’ which also made no chart impression on its home turf…

Carefully curated and concisely annotated, “Let It All Out” lets the listener in to two dozen of Nina Simone’s most celebrated singles. There have been many compilations of her works since she passed away 20+ years ago, but none that gets to the heart – and soul – of her catalogue in quite so direct a manner as this one does. 

A cornerstone of soulful reggae, Lover’s Rock by Jamaican legend Delroy Wilson bridges his deep roots in ska and rocksteady with the smooth, romantic vibes of the UK’s lovers rock movement. It's a noteworthy entry in the lovers rock canon and a testament to Wilson's versatility. Originally released in 1978 by Burning Sounds, this album captures Wilson’s velvet-toned voice over laid-back riddims and heartfelt lyrics—a perfect entry point for fans of both classic reggae and tender love songs.
A must-have for collectors of golden-era reggae and lovers rock enthusiasts alike. Original UK pressing is increasingly rare and prized for its warm analogue sound and classic artwork.
Recommended if you like: John Holt, Gregory Isaacs, Dennis Brown, Sugar Minott.
Released on 180-gram vinyl including sleeve notes and 2 bonus tracks.

The most inspiring bands are the ones that can create a world around themselves that is about far more than just the music. The artwork, lyrics, sounds and ethos all merge together perfectly to create its own universe, a secret club. The Lovely Eggs are one such band. And against all the odds, 2025 sees them celebrate their 20th anniversary as a band! Stubbornly and heroically independent, The Lovely Eggs have forged their own path and have achieved mainstream success without ever compromising their DIY ethics. Released on their own label Egg Records, with eye watering artwork by Casey Raymond and hand packed in a black plastic bin bag on neon toxic slime green vinyl, this is yet another collectible release from a band who care as much about the art and ideas in their records as they do about the sound. "We had all these spare songs after we released our last album Eggsistentialism and we didn't really know what to do with them," explained Holly. "They just didn't seem to fit in with the vibe of Eggsistentialism but we'd recorded them and wanted to get them out there." "They're kind of a sketchbook of songs," added David. "They're not polished or laboured over but we thought it would be interesting to release them. It's why we called the record Bin Juice. These were songs we had thrown away. But hopefully people like going through bins collecting trash."

Patami isn't a judo mat, an animal defense association or a kind of sausage. Patami is a concept unique to each individual and, above all, unique to singer Stanislas. Patami is a friend to all children. He's at their service, but he's also their king. For the audience, it's whatever they want it to be, as long as it's comforting! Patami is Astéréotypie's third album, an extraordinary musical adventure featuring post- punk, noise and electro sounds. There are also some lovely melodies. Patami will shake your heart with the myths, memories, concepts and rants of the four star MCs: Claire, Stan, Yohann and Aurélien, the greatest songwriters of the moment (a few guests are also expected)! In short, Patami is like nothing you've ever heard before, and what's more, it's a real comfort. Their previous record, Aucun mec ne ressemble à Brad Pitt dans la Drôme, released in the spring of 2022, was warmly received by the public and achieved great critical success. Since then, Astéréotypie has been playing headline shows and festivals all over France. The band's singularity has left its mark. After 10 years of existence, the collective has finally found its audience.

"It may surprise some that, after two decades of silent films, when Alam Ara broke the silence in 1931, it and every South Asian talkie that followed was what we in the West think of as a "musical." Music had been integral to the culture's staged drama going back to the Gupta Dynasty — sometime between the 4 th and 6 th Century CE. Since its inception, South Asian cinema drew heavily from Marathi, Parsi, and Bengali musical theatre and silent film screenings were often accompanied by live music to mimic a live staged experience.

When sound films arrived, actors with serious singing skills became the next wave of stars. Songs were performed live while shooting, with musicians hidden off-camera, to the side or sometimes even in trees. Playback singing — the practice of dubbing a real singer's voice over a lip-syncing actor — didn't become standard until the 1940s.

Thus, the biggest stars of the 1930s were also the greatest singers, with some, like Govindrao Tembe and Pankaj Mullick, excelling as both composers and vocalists. None, however, were more beloved than K.L. Saigal, whose emotional, untrained crooning captivated audiences across the subcontinent. Saigal's voice inspired a young Lata Mangeshkar, who vowed to become India's greatest filmi singer to win his heart. Sadly, Saigal grew increasingly addicted to alcohol, unable to perform without it, and passed away at age 42, seven months before the Partition. Lata never married.

This collection features some of the earliest songs from South Asian cinema, sourced from CDs and LPs found in Jackson Heights, Queens, Coney Island Avenue in Brooklyn, Lexington Avenue in Manhattan, and Oak Tree Road in Iselin, New Jersey — areas home to vibrant immigrant communities. South Asian immigration to New York and New Jersey surged after the 1965 Immigration and Nationality Act, which lifted non-European quotas. By the 1990s and 2000s, the region's Indian, Pakistani, and Bangladeshi media outlets flourished, especially in Jackson Heights, where such stores outnumbered the total number of regular record shops throughout the five boroughs.

The nascent period of sound film featured a limited palette of musical styles, predominantly Marathi Bhagveet, like the Ghazal, but with greater flexibility of subject matter and rhythm, and Rabindra Sangeet, the approximately 2,000 songs and poems composed by Bengali Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore. But there was some evolution as well, with the success of South Asian cinema's first woman composer, the classically trained Saraswati Devi, and the introduction of Western instruments including the piano and Hawaiian guitar.

While much of the music was dark and brooding, perhaps exemplified best by Devika Rani's interpretation of Saraswati Devi's "Udi Hawa Mein" from 1936's Achhut Kannya (Untouchable Maiden), there were moments of brightness, such as R.C. Boral's "Lachhmi Murat Daras Dikhaye" sung by Kanan Devi in Street Singer, an otherwise thoroughly depressing film from 1938 that cemented Devi's and co-star K.L. Saigal's superstardom.

This selection was chosen to emphasise a range of expressivity, instrumentation and style achieved even within the decade's relatively limited scope, setting the listener up for the relative explosion of possibility in the 1940s, to be covered in the next installment of this series."

Four cuts of unapologetic, immediate Jungle that capture Tim Reaper’s frantic energy and Fracture’s deadly sonics — a perfect balance of aggression and detail. No holds barred, examined with a fine-tooth comb. Precision Pandemonium. Alongside the music, the collaboration extends to artwork, with each label’s iconic logo reimagined in the other’s style. This visual partnership spans the 12” label and sleeve design, as well as an extensive range of streetwear merch.

Fracture says:

I’ve known Ed for over 15 years, going back to the forum days of Subvert Central and Dogs On Acid. Even then, his approach to Jungle was authentic and compulsive. He’s stayed on that path with unwavering focus, never chasing trends—just pure, raw Jungle. What he’s built with Future Retro London is so desperately needed in this day and age: a space where music and community come first, shining a light on artists and DJs often overlooked by mainstream channels that favour gimmicks. His passion for Jungle is infectious, and I’ve always wanted to work with him so doing a full label collaboration feels completely right. Working with Ed is a real eye opener - he’s so full of ideas and the speed at which he can generate patterns is scary. Watching him fly around his laptop, chopping breaks and writing basslines is like watching a Grandmaster play speed chess—always on, never off. Shout out Tim Reaper each and every. An incredible DJ as well.

Tim Reaper says:

I think this is probably the longest ever I've spent on any release for Future Retro London, clocking in at just over 3 years of back & forth between me & Fracture in the making of this. There's a lot of backstory behind this project, so excuse my ramblings below.

The story starts with me hearing Sully playing a tune by Fracture called "Booyaka Style" which I really liked and thought would be great to release. I reached out to Fracture about it and found out later that he already made plans to include it on an album project (0860) that he was working on at the time which later came out on his label Astrophonica. He asked if I would be up for sending him any tunes to be considered for release on Astrophonica, but in response to this, I suggested a joint label project that both of us would have tunes on & he seemed keen to do it.
Few months later, I got back in touch to ask if he had done any tracks for this release but he was still busy with other things and instead sent me a track he had been working on, with the suggestion of us collaborating on it. We finished a track together that we both liked & felt as if it was a good starting point for the release. We then got a few more collabs done with a fair bit of back & forth, but upon reflection, he felt as if they could be a lot better than what they currently were and so, the release started to change in format a bit. Fracture suggested that we should meet up in his studio and work on some tunes together in person, with the aim of getting a few bits done over a bunch of sessions and getting it all sorted out in a much quicker timeline. Thankfully, this actually worked, we managed to get some collabs done that both of us are very happy with (even managing to sample a recording of Blackeye from a set from a Future Retro London event!)

Thanks to Fracture for his co-operation & perseverance with this release, helping to see it through to the end & not allowing it to be anything less than the best possible version of itself, thanks to Mark at Sequence for his role in helping with the logistics/manufacture of this release, thanks to Utile for assisting on the design on this release and most importantly, a very special thanks to all the obstacles along the way that I faced in the making of this release, which helped me appreciate getting to this point so much more than I ever could have!

Los Angeles-based duo LUCKYANDLOVE are back with their third album, evoking a new sense of art school originality, following their critically acclaimed “Transitions” album. The duo defines 'Humaura' as the atmosphere that emanates from the feelings of the human spirit void of technological control.

Blending raw analog synth sounds with driving punctuated percussion and punchy analogue bass, LUCKYANDLOVE’s music is shaped by the embers of Siouxsie and The Banshees and Bauhaus, resonant spectres carry over from synth-laden galaxies, where the needle hits the vinyl groove and Doc Martens marched to basement dance floors.

LUCKYANDLOVE is the raw sonic experiment of Loren Luck and April Love, whose music transcends genres. Their live analogue synth beats, Moog instrumentation and beautiful, harmonic vocals trigger an immediate download of fuzzy sunset synthgaze, blue-black neon darkwave, and tigerprint electro punk.

“‘Humaura’ is an action-packed, cinematic, entertaining and soulful electro-dance record full of fresh air and wide-open roads where there is more freedom to party, to be in nature, and to be our wild selves,” says April Love.

Fusing together pulsating molten kicks, abrasive fuzz-laden analog synths and sensual vocals, the anti-tech angst anthem ‘I Am Human’ is a call to take back our lives, underlining the need to reconnect with being Human before it’s too late. ‘Lonely at Night’ is a "last call" bar track about the desperate, frantic desire for human connection, building from a haunting sense of isolation to a fast-paced, climactic reunion with a crush. Elsewhere, this album features enchanting lyrics rooted in emotions from melancholy and sorrowful glom to a state of blissful trance.

This album was recorded, mixed and mastered for digital release by Grammy award-winning engineer Be Hussey (Modern English, Twin Tribes, Boy Harsher) at Balboa Studio and Catwater for the digital music, and mastered for vinyl and lathe-cut by Grammy-nominated engineer Nicholas Townsend (Weezer, Grimes) at Townsend Mastering.

Their 'Lucky + Love' and 'Transitions' albums having earning them a global fan following, US and UK tours, multiple tracks featured in the indie hit film 'Tiger Within' (Ed Asner's final performance), and wide acclaim, noting their “soulful, synthesized sound" (LA Weekly), “spectral synths and dazed-dreamy feeling” (Big Takeover Magazine), not to mention their "uncompromising and inventive sonic experiment” (The Spill Magazine) and sound that “oscillates between the asphalt synth streets & interstellar outer realms” (Impose Magazine).

LUCKYANDLOVE’s visceral, dark electro-pop appeal continues to stretch through time and space. Praise for the album’s lead track ‘I am Human’ have poured in from over a dozen countries. ‘Humaura’ promises to cement the duo’s reputation as one of America’s most vivacious electronic / synthwave acts, positioning them firmly within the lineage of artists like Phantogram, Ladytron, The Soft Moon, Twin Tribes and ACTORS.


‘Humaura’ Press:

“...In contrast to its synth-laden darkwave and electropunk sound, the song presents lyrical themes of championing the human spirit and emotions over the technological void" ~ Regen Magazine

“Moog textures and distorted synth tones weaving together like electric currents. An industrial edge that carries a dreamy undercurrent, nodding to darkwave, punk rock and post-punk influences without sounding dated" ~ Myth of Rock

"Every second and note is a meld of lava-esque incitement and beguiling melodic fixation and a breath to unpredictability and stirring fuzz hued uniqueness… a thrilling encounter" ~ The Ringmaster Review

"Layers fall into place and give rise to soaring vocals. The beautiful timbre of her voice sits over the landscapes of sound and reveal poignant lines that hit home." ~ Sound Read Six

Punk pioneer/Eater main-man, Andy Blade's 7th solo album and follow up to 2024's critically acclaimed & heavily rotated, Sparks bros endorsed "Being Alive Is Fun". It is imbued with the usual left-of-centre Blade-ism's & themes: star maps, UFO's & a slightly twisted nod to tragic 70's heroine Karen Carpenter. You get what you deserve with Blade, and with Tiny Specks you are rewarded with a rich code to decipher at your leisure. Most of all, however, it is all about the quality of his songwriting. Opening track 'Karen Is The Drummer' (featuring Blade's regular singing collaborator - PseudoPomp's Katerina Sharkova) seems unsettlingly self-explanatory, but all does not seem well in the Carpenter M.O.R world - 'It's just her & her brother & her folks indifference to that girl'. Occasional Dinosaur Jr vocalist Tiffany Anders gives 'I'm Not Myself' a poppy but eerie nuance. PollyPikPocketz's Myura Amara pops up on the short but very sweet 'About That'. Matilda Scotland, Quick Romance's uber-cool punky-chanteuse - adds her Gen Z aura to the summery 'I Like It When You're Happy'. Former Generation X guitarist Bob 'Derwood' Andrews, with whom Blade has worked with consistently of late, once again features heavily on 'Tiny Specks'_ Like with Katerina Sharkova's voice, Derwood guitar lines interweave with Blade's honeyed vocal as though they made for each other. 'This Place' is another key track, capturing the claustrophobic-genocidal mood of what has been taking place in Gaza/Palestine for over two years now, and counting. 'This is not so much a protest song as it is the noise in my head'. If John Lydon is the Widow Twanky of Punk, and Billy Idol, its Elvis, then Andy Blade must surely be the Sinatra of Punk.

OOOOH! by Alex Bad Baby Lukashevsky with Cocoa Corner (2025)

Celebrated veteran of Toronto’s music scene, known for his boundary-pushing approach to folk and avant-garde music, twists rock music into strange and brilliant new shapes with the help of young jazz players, U.S. Girls, and his own immensely talented son.



OOOOH! is hard on the outside and soft on the inside. Made in the spirit of unity,
humanity, and poetry — disobediently renouncing the glory of personal triumph for the
generosity of an honest experiment. On the last track of the album you’ll hear “Or do you only ever never want to make a single enemy? / That’s not freedom or humility / It’s nothing, honestly.” Oooh, that's a bad baby!

A celebrated Toronto songwriter and performer, Alex Lukashevsky has always been disobedient. Which simply means, nothing is off the table when he’s looking for his
poetic voice; when trying to find the realest I of the teller. As he sings on the lead track “that musician that’s dead” The musician is radical/ it’s the world that’s demented/ listening with their eyes, the music looks dented/ they’re over-represented.
OOOOH! was recorded in January 2024 at Sound Department in Toronto, engineered by Patrick Lefler (ROY), mixed by Grammy-nominated producer Matt Smith. All the songs were tracked live off the floor in two days, with one extra day for recording vocals, to keep the recording fully alive and breathing. As leader of Deep Dark United, as a solo performer, and a sideman in Brodie Wests’ Eucalyptus and Luka Kuplowsky’s Ryokan Band, Alex has been an outsized influence on the Toronto music scene that spawned acts like Broken Social Scene and Owen Pallett. (Pallett, who has toured with Lukashevsky, went so far as to record an entire album’s worth of Alex’s songs, backed
by a full orchestra.)

Lukashevsky has approached each of his albums and projects as something completely new, using only the musical boundaries he creates with each song. Even when he
has recorded songs with nothing but his voice and his own acoustic guitar accompaniment, the results are never “stripped down” or “back to basics,”
Gong! How do you get to heaven / have fun! have fun!
It’s cool to approach music as a game of “spot the influence”; Burt Bacharach-meets-Black Flag; Lana Del Rey-meets-LCD Soundsystem etc. Glorified mash-ups are promising because of their conversational nature. But they can turn us into hyperboreans; blowing cold air beyond ourselves while doing what we can to remain warm. To devise a game or a narrative is to have a winner and a loser, but we all know that just as you win/ so you lose. And does anything really change? Alex Lukashevsky and Cocoa Corner are more at ease drawing blind contours or playing an old game like consequences. They let things add up without knowing particularly how. Cognition is recognition.

Lukashevsky, in addition to writing all the songs, plays guitar and sings on OOOOH!, doing both in ways that are soulful and spikey at the same time. Joining him on guitar and vocals is his oldest child, Charlie Lukashevsky, who, at 23, is already a talented performer and songwriter in his own right. Cocoa Corner also includes Aidan McConnell, an in-demand drummer and composer, Jack Johnston, a jazz bassist and Barry Harris acolyte, and percussionist Evan Cartwright (The Weather Station, U.S. Girls, Cola, Tasseomancy), who plays steel pan and marching drum.

Working with his son and with other younger musicians is central to the album’s
unpredictable aesthetic. It reinvigorated the sound in unexpected ways. Lukashevsky says, “I had to reconsider my own instincts. I had to deal with being 99 years old.”
In addition to these performers, the album includes a tasty contribution from Meg
Remy, the visionary musician and producer who is the leader of the critically acclaimed
project U.S. Girls. Remy duets with Lukashevsky on the imagistic and sprawling album
closer “things keep happening.”
About that album title: OOOOH! is taken straight from “that musician that’s dead” an
arch and unhinged comment on the exertion required to navigate a lifetime of music making.
Lukashevsky’s delivery of that one emotive word is a kind of cultural posture, but also a
hundred percent primitive expression. The impact is never less than visceral. His vocal
delivery ranges through rich baritone blues to keening falsettos to a kind of sprechstimme that periodically steps out from the music to grab the listener’s shirt. He
doesn’t sound too nice, but he is sincere. When life gives you lemons lament.
For OOOOH! his first official full-length album since 2012’s Too Late Blues, (a collection of knotty-yet-effervescent tunes built upon the enchantingly serpentine harmonies of Lukashevsky and his vocal collaborators, Felicity Williams (Bahamas, Bernice) and Daniela Gesundheit (Snowblink, HYDRA)), Alex has once again broken apart and rebuilt his own approach to music. Or rather (because that sounds too over-determined), he
has allowed his music to build itself into strange new shapes that only fleetingly and
coincidentally, but happily, resemble anything that might be called rock and roll. There is some editorializing within the song’s lyrics— Lukashevsky even cheekily contributes to the “spot the influence” game with the line “Muddy Waters, Rite of Spring!” a funny preemptive strike against anyone already reaching for some variation of avant-blues to describe what the song is up to here. In fact there are many names checked on this record (literally and in spirit); they are the lily pads that trace the path of this expression! Palestrina, Peter Pears and Benjamin Brittain, Andrés Segovia, Stravinsky, Lotte Lenya, Alice Coltrane, Skip James, Chuck Berry, D’Gary, Betty Carter, Mukhtiyar Ali, Chuck D, Yoko Ono, Hailu Mergia, David Bowie, Jane Siberry. rhythm is a skeleton mansion / haunted by melody / feckless prodigy / the world is under a spell / cast by some demon angel / Practice day and night / Try as hard as hell / no one can sing that well Musicians are often worried by the way in which they are prepared to fail rather
than how they would like to succeed; it’s such a deep concern that it tempers their creativity and shackles their process. Current cultural proclivities, tend to comfort a certain kind of artistic failure and abnegate another kind. How many testimonials, full of heartfelt care and investment, have you heard for Taylor Swift, and yet a craftsman like Chris Weisman is often dismissed easily as though he’s doing something anti-social. what’s throwing itself in my ears and my eyes / arrogant devil ad hominem christ.
The music you will hear on this recording veers off in multiple directions at once,
and features a rock and roll spirit with a divergent heart. This is no sclerotic clomp of the Average Rock Song, but in fact a flood of humanity in all its darkness and moodiness and unpredictability. If most performers make songs that are like sports cars or pickup trucks to drive around, Lukashevsky has built something more akin to a rowboat in a tree: it’s weird and beautiful.

Dave Huismans (ex_libris, A Made Up Sound) presents In Transit, a self-titled LP of arresting downtempo vignettes, with origins dating back to over a decade ago.

Renowned for some of this century’s most notorious rhythmic advances, the work of Dave Huismans (fka A Made Up Sound and 2562) continues to provide a blueprint for new generations of innovation-obsessives. After a long hiatus from releasing original material, he returned in 2025 with two beloved EP’s as ex_libris. Now he returns to FELT as In Transit, following up on his remix of Civilistjävel! from 2023.

Borrowing its name from the closing dialogue of a novel by Dutch author Hella S. Haasse, In Transit was written in just two weeks in the summer of 2013 on a Korg ESX sampler. Since then, he has patiently refined its constituent parts.

Over the course of 38 minutes across six tracks, In Transit maps out an absorbing vista. The music shimmers with a celestial quality, underpinned by rhythmic stamina and creeping intensity. Tangential to Huismans’ previous work, the beats here are decentred and further scattered, acting as buoys to the constantly evolving and intricate narratives of layered textures.

In Transit marks a fascinating new addition to Huismans’ sprawling catalogue, a truly remarkable racket to be crafted with such humble means, finding a suitable context within FELT’s continued venture into parallel sounds.

Written, produced and mixed by Dave Huismans

Mastered by Miles Whittaker

Photos by Dave Huismans

A reissue of a cassette that was originally released on Uramado in 2020, this is the first time this live session appears on vinyl. The performance, featuring Kudo on piano and 3C123 on clarinet, was recorded on October 18, 2009, at the Uramado venue in Shinjuku. A beautiful and quixotic forty-minute set, that reconnects both Kudo and 3C123 with various musical histories, including those of classical composition and free improvisation.

The performance documented on Tori Kudo & 3C123 is a curious one. While they both appear to slip into improvised ruminations at times, for the most part, Kudo performs pieces by Erik Satie on the piano, over which 3C123 teases an excoriating stream of improvisation from the clarinet. His playing here is wild in its poetry: sometimes lushly nestly alongside Satie’s melodies, elsewhere loosing Ayler-esque squalls from the instrument, it’s a bravura performance that is matched, in an indirect manner, by the poise and pacing of Kudo’s generous, fluent recital.

When asked about the thinking behind the performance documented here, Kudo explains by describing the historical juxtaposition of Satie with Takehisa Kosugi’s improvised violin as “an essence of the Japanese art of collective improvisation.” The playing here, as within Japanese collective improvisation, is about sitting ‘alongside’ each other, not necessarily in direct (or even indirect) reference, but rather sharing the space; “just being there together,” Kudo says, and letting go of the need for performers to engage in interplay.

Tori Kudo & 3C123 is certainly part of that tradition, and this is where its curious poetry resides; in that ‘third space’ that sits in between, but not directly connecting, the two performers. Kudo makes an analogy with Fluxus, which is appropriate. But you can also hear their shared history here, somehow, as Kudo and 3C123 have known each other since the eighties, when they shared a house in Kunitachi City, Tokyo. Their musical paths have been multiple – Kudo, of course, best known perhaps for his Maher Shalal Hash Baz ensemble; 3C123 as a member of Vedda Music Workshop, and with other Japanese musicians like Koichiro Watanabe.

Shadows fold into colour. Memory dissolves into noise. You brush up against the walls of the mind. Touch is soft as breath. On ‘B side’, Areliz Ramos follows her work’s current into its more “fantastic and elusive… and even romantic” side; a place where fantasy loosens the bolts of reality and memory, and emotion is alluringly refracted into musical collages and loose-strung compositions. Across the album, voices drift in and out of an intimate space, while pensive guitar lines stumble and bloom like scribbled unresolved notes in a diary. Beneath its icy, often chaotic surface, ‘B side’ radiates a deep sense of joy and fragility. Ramos sketches out an entire world by free association, collaging notions and echoing quiet thoughts into deeply honest snapshots of daydreams.

Areliz Ramos is a Peruvian producer living in London, recognized for an evocative palette weaving lo-fi and downtempo threads into dreamlike, abstract emo narratives. While her debut ‘Frío’ (Where to Now?), orbited around homesickness and estrangement, ‘B side’ embraces imperfection, incorporating her guitar (named "Frank"), pedals, synthesizers, and her own vocal textures for the first time, privileging emotional immediacy over technical precision. The creative process behind this album reflects a conscious decision to let go, loosen control, let intuition lead, and engage her own ‘B’ side.

Rather than constructing a safe haven from hardship, Ramos offers a cracked mirror, staring right at it, embracing that vulnerability. The gentle and beautiful ‘B side’ explores fleeting satisfaction, or the elusive comfort sitting just out of sight.

Skin/Glove is the second LP by Belgian musician Mathieu Serruys, following the release of his B.A.A.D.M. debut On Germaine Dulac back in 2014. Compiled over the course of a fortnight, the record features material recorded over the past five years: creaks of ice buckling under heat, thick hums like nauseating headaches, plumes of evaporated organ hymns, frostbitten crackles of dying tape loops. These disparate sources are unified by the pervasive corrosion of pain and time, which presses into the surface of every sonic object. Melodies splinter under the strain of being pulled apart; drones tremble under the gathering gravity of fatigue; dissonances flicker like candles on the brink of extinguishment. Yet despite the emotional density of the material itself, the process of composition provides a route toward comprehending how these sounds and experiences are connected. Skin/Glove reads as a constellatory map of adversity and grief, beautifully coalesced through the cathartic distance of retrospect, haunted by the sibilant whispers of distinct memories in dialogue, latticed by lesions that fatefully and poignantly intersect.