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Debut album, duo from Detroit which includes Chris Samuels of Ritual Howls 350 Units of limited cloudy clear/Bronze splatter colored vinyl Electronic, Industrial, Experimental music for Fans of Ritual Howls, Throbbing Gristle, Coil, The Legendary Pink Dots, Drew McDowall, Suicide, Cabaret Voltaire // Mission to the Sun synthesizes ambient, post-industrial landscapes with expansive arrangements and haunting vocals. Comprised of Christopher Samuels (synths, samples, programming) of Ritual Howls and Kirill Slavin (vocals), the Detroit-based duo creates an atmosphere of lamentation for a world left behind. Fragments of industrial noise and hypnotic synths fill Samuels' foreboding, alien terrain, and it's in this vastness that Slavin's voice mourns the drudgery of everyday life and the loss of universal consciousness. The duo's debut album, Cleansed by Fire, takes the listener on a journey home to the inferno of the sun, navigating memories of a life lived, dissolved into time. A wind of desolation opens "Take Me Back," with Slavin mourning for a return home to a distant reality. The song uses repetition to build a somber ambience while maintaining a spaciousness sparsely accented by noise with care and precision. Slavin's lyrics examine the conflict and paradoxes that riddle the human condition with Samuel's instrumentation providing a fitting backdrop. "The Unbroken Sea" illustrates this symbiotic reflection with a propulsive bass line contradicted by ethereal synths that swell and contract, only to be finally engulfed by a pulsating crescendo of rhythmic noise at the end. The dystopian title track "Cleansed by Fire" marches steadily along to a creeping darkwave rhythm. The basic elements of dance music are there, yet the song remains devoid of danceability. Punctuated by lyrics inspired by J.G. Ballard and technological isolation, a glimmer of pop sensibility can be found beneath the haze of the track's potent mood. Mission to the Sun beautifully captures an alien feeling: one ripe with despair and longing, one that doesn't quite belong to this world or time. A slow, satisfying burn, Cleansed by Fire traverses the dystopian past and present, while moving toward the future.

Zwerm is a Belgian-Dutch electric guitar quartet (with a backyard rehearsal shed located in Antwerp) that operates along the borders between styles and traverses traditions that are typically not convergent. Zwerm rhymes Larry Polansky with Nadah El Shazly and are galvanized by the likes of guitars pioneers like The Velvet Underground and Sonic Youth, the microtonal DYI-er Harry Partch, Middle Eastern sonorities and the prog-madness of Kind Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard. ‘Musical adventure’ is not just a hollow cliché for this quartet, but a genuine commitment. Zwerm calls itself a ‘guitar quartet’, but that can be interpreted broadly as well as with a pinch of salt: “If we want to do something on instruments we don’t really master, we’ll just figure out a way to make it work.”
Toon Callier, Johannes Westendorp, Kobe van Cauwenberghe and Bruno Nelissen all met in 2007 while working on a project with Glenn Branca. A new guitar quartet was born and it became clear rather quickly that staying in the strictly contemporary compositions lane was not for this quartet-with-five-to-six-members (an organizational chart is available upon request).
An appetite for new and lasting collaborations has been a constant theme throughout their artistic parcours. The group has shared stages with theatrical producers like Walpurgis and Post uit Hessdalen, dancers such as Ecce and with the musicians Fred Frith, Stephen O’Malley, Shiva Feshareki, Rudy Trouvé, Mauro Pawlowski, Larry Polansky, Eric Thielemans, Yannis Kyriakides, François Sarhan, Serge Verstockt and Stefan Prins. These projects have not always translated into records, but they have been decisive in creating a unique musical approach. In 2015, when Zwerm was asked by De Handelsbeurs to collaborate with Fred Frith, they proceeded to pen a few new musical sketches over which Firth sublimely improvised. In 2018 ‘Badminton in Tehran’ was released, their first record that was made up completely of only the group’s compositions.
“a basket full of buttons here
and if you push the wrong one: fear
and if you push the right one: love
or maybe none of the above”
The route that Zwerm has taken is often defined by the question “What if... ?” - like a dart thrown at a musical map, not quite blindly, but naive enough to lead to unexpected endings.
“What if we play Renaissance pieces written by John Dowland, but instead of playing lutes we play these tunes with a Telecaster – and then jam it through effect pedals and an amplifier?”
“What if we connect one hundred guitar pedals and just leave our guitars at home?”
“What if we record a record with ten different one-page-pieces that we found on the Internet?”
In 2020 our metaphorical dart landed on “What if we tried microtonality?”.
‘Microtonality’ sounds a bit creepy, but actually there is nothing to be afraid of: there are no out-of- tune notes, just alternate notes. On the continents where Western musical theory is less stringently applied, microtonality is the rule, and has become the subject of many deep and thoughtfully written theories. However for Zwerm, this phenomenon occurs in many, often surprisingly lighthearted forms. A dilapidated piano that has settled into a beautiful microtonal tuning of its own accord, enthusiastic choral singing, a guitar whose three strings are tuned a quarter-tone higher, a saz (Turkishquarter-tone lute), a maddening guitar pedal, ...
"the dreams they were convicted for telling only lies reality came after for claiming to be wise what you don’t see is what you get just never light a spark I’m a crow in the dark”
“And… what if we work with a drummer?” Enter Karen Willems - dummer, extraordinaire, and ardent player in groups, projects and collaborations galore. One chance meeting and the deal was done. It was obvious before the start that Willems was the versatile and creative percussionist-in-a-toy-store necessary for this project. And in the studio, to our delight, she demonstrated an easy dexterity when switching quickly from one idea to the next.
At the reins behind the scenes was producer Rudy Trouvé, who – during previous sessions for ‘Badminton in Terhran’, when the classically trained guitarists went completely off the rails, staring deeply and forlornly into their scores, looking for answers – was able to pinpoint the problem and get the wagons rolling in the right direction again. Completing the team were Mark Dedecker (recording)and Joris Calluwaerts (mixing).
The results are in and it’s called ‘ Great Expectations’ – a title that, in several ways, fits perfectly with these strange times.‘Great Expectations’ goes wide! Zwerm is at its best when it can run along the borders between style and across traditions that otherwise would not necessarily intersect. The most straightforward rockers have a proggy tinge while the dreamy psychedelic songs lean more toward Richard Youngs. And if a nice melody dared come to close to becoming a ‘Kit-Katjingle’, then barbs-a-la-Pere-Ubu were trailed, tracked, found and promptly embedded. ‘Heavy Machinery’ sits neatly somewhere between Captain Beefheart and Richard Wagner, and ‘On My Way To Aguno’, set to an Iranian folk song chord progression, grew into a hyper-personal lullaby. Zwerm used the saz (Turkish lute) and the sinter (Moroccan gnawa bass instrument) without falling into pastiche psychedelia, but you can still sense the orient.

“Walk the dog. Exercise. Make art.’The mind is happy when the body
is.’ Things I can potentially fill my days with if I am stuck at home
for months on end…Then, one day, I hear a frenetic, free drummer
playing in his garage a few blocks from me. And I think ‘interesting’.
I stand outside his garage staring at the wall, like a fool, for a minute,
then decide to leave a note on the car parked there. This is how I ended
up meeting and working with Ted Byrnes. He wasn’t creeped out, and
he ended up sending me a pile of truly spontaneous drums recordings
from the carport to work with. I decided to have every musician
come in one at at time and just take a wild pass at their track over the
drums. None of these people had ever met or played together. I was
the connecting thread. I scratched the surface initially with electric
bass, saxophone, guitars, cuica, synthesizers, flute and effects, but
soon realized I would need heavy hitters to make this place habitable.
“Greg Coates, upright bass expressionist extraordinaire, hacked
through the dense weeds, vines and frayed cabling. He lays the map
out and makes breathing room. Space to swing a cat. Tom Dolas
(keys), my often foil, came in and began tip-toeing through the rubble
and refuse. Dotting the layout with flecks of light, flights of fancy and
potential tangential trajectories. Then the finisher, Brad Caulkins on
horns. As always, Brad came in like grace itself, scanned the floor
for food, and huffed and puffed and blew the house down. He takes a
bruiser situation and lends it some warmth and hospitality, old school.
“After I spent a bit of time mixing and editing this down to a
palatable offering I couldn’t help but think about human consumption.
...Endless Garbage seemed a fitting title. A cacophonous and glorious
sketch of ourselves. For fans of Albert Ayler, ECM records, Gong,
improvisation, sustainability and consumption” —John Dwyer

I’ve known Alex Bleeker my entire life. Well, okay, maybe not since I was born, but there’s no doubt that I’ve shared a fair bit of memories with him over the years. We’ve acted in high school productions of Shakespeare together, gone on late-night diner runs, argued about which Weezer album is the band’s best, and swapped mutual appreciation for the music of Yo La Tengo on car rides careening around the snaky suburbia of our hometown. Just like his Real Estate bandmates Martin Courtney and Julian Lynch, we attended high school in the New Jersey enclave of Ridgewood, a place where sticky summer days yielded cool nights with a glow so nocturnal that you can practically hear the fireflies buzzing off of this sentence alone.

Indie rock—a type of music that can easily be made or listened to in someone’s garage—often dominates teenage suburban preoccupations, and both Alex and I were no exception. You can hear this legacy of listening on his new album Heaven on the Faultline, which departs from his last full-band outing as Alex Bleeker and the Freaks, 2015’s Country Agenda. Whereas that album had a more full-bodied explicitly folk-y feel, Heaven on the Faultline finds Bleeker getting back to his homespun roots over the course of its 13 songs, from the jangly guitar pop of New Jersey heroes the Feelies and YLT’s hushed, acoustic reveries to the open-hearted folk rock that marks so much of the Grateful Dead’s early catalog.

Written and recorded over the last several years, Heaven on the Faultline’s songs were initially recorded straight to GarageBand in Bleeker’s bedroom before receiving further studio refinement in co-producer Phil Hartunian’s Tropico Beauty space in Los Angeles. With contributions from Confusing Mix of Nations’ Josh Da Costa, Cameron Stallones of Sun Araw, singer-songwriter Kacey Johansing, and Parting Lines’ Tim Ramsey, Heaven on the Faultline achieves a warm and intimate feel that defines Bleeker’s mission for the album: “I wanted to capture the moment in which I fell in love with making music to begin with. This is music for myself—me getting back to music for music’s sake.”

The unsteady times we live in certainly creep into view on Heaven on the Faultline. The deceptively easygoing “D Plus” was written on the day of President Donald Trump’s inauguration with the cursed event in mind, while the anxiety of climate change hovers just above the lovely guitar loops of “Felty Feel.” “The album is very much about dealing with the anxiety of a sense of impending doom,” Bleeker states while discussing the album’s portentous vibes. “When is the hammer going to fall? How do we go forward in the face of such anxiety and experience the complexity of life?”

Tough questions with few answers, but try not to stress too much. It’s possible to experience such existential doubt while also enjoying the simple pleasures that life has to offer, and that ethos is square at the heart of Heaven on the Faultline. It defines who Alex Bleeker is, too, and is one of many reasons why I’m proud to have known this special person and artist for so long.

Larry Fitzmaurice

‘Dekalb Works’ is the collaborative project of Austin Peru (Vision Fortune) & Daniel Creahan (Sweat Equity / Alien D). Born out of a shared deep sociological interest of dialects and cultural frameworks, and the effects these have on meaning within modes of speech, the pair here delve into the dialects of their own beginnings, mining US/British regional accents and weaving these situational scenes through a textured, intentionally disjointed, hand made soundscape of bass tension and fleeting, glistening melody – adding additional layers of emotion and meaning to everyday observations of language.

‘Duologue’ intends to blur the lines between perceived and constructed reality, occupying a gauzy, dreamlike space shared by the likes of Hype Williams & James Ferraro, where foggy sonars & deep subs provide the backbone to both eccentric and mundane ephemeral flutters of dialect.

‘Duologue’ revels in its variance of linguistic stylings – from the deep US south religious lament of ‘of a’ hovering above an ambience of Zither & Bells, to the doom laden sax skronk and vocal stutter of ‘with’, to the creeping stripped micro dub of ‘only’ which allows the familiar hue of the British news reader and typical West Midlands dialectical moments to clash – aptly documenting of an impending collision.

This is certainly one for heads into all things slow & spacious - for sure there’s a lot to digest and get lost in here across the records quite intentionally intoxicating ark, where touch points and historical nods range from Laraaji’s signature ambience to Ernest Hood’s visionary ‘Neighbourhoods’, filtered through modern outer sound explorers such as John T. Gast, Mark Lecky, and the bass minimalism of SND.

Influenced by a life split between Lima, London, and Twentynine Palms, Peru-born M. Caye Castagnetto’s Leap Second is an intriguingly personal and hard to classify debut album. The album is a thick collage of samples Caye recorded with different artists and musicians, including Beatrice Dillon and the late Aileen Bryant, that spans five years in the making. There is something in Leap Second that tracks the speed of bodies, how they approach and retreat. The ten tracks are speedy and languid, thick ruffles, and dirges. In parts it feels like one’s stumbled upon a forgotten incredible ’70s folk record but that feeling gets broken quickly by clever sleights of hand. Caye’s balladry is angular, time is elastic. Each song is a fresh cape. How dandies really mean it, so masc- that it’s fay, how the only moment is this one and it’s just passed, etcetera.“While it doesn’t really sound like anything else, there are moments that feel like a Latin-flavored Nico, that’s edging its way towards some of the outings of the Sun City Girls. In my opinion it checks all the boxes, by checking none of them.” —Bjorn Copeland, Black Dice “A truly interesting conglomeration of loose inspirations and conjurings. A hard to decipher sound all together which makes it worth every moment...a sprinkling of Catherine Ribeiro, Dr. John, Terje Rypdal and Nico. Far-out sun-soaked odysseys and moon-dappled woodland night creepers...” —John Dwyer

In these dark times of Covid we still have our music. We have the sounds to soothe us, distract and take our minds away from the chaos and uncertainty.
We can't dance like we used to but we can hear and feel. Our release must be found in another way, we must look within. We find solace and grant ourselves space and time in the music.

Sam McQueen (Indio co-producer with John Beltran, Indigo Aera, Delsin Records, Furthur Electronix) presents his debut album Dreams In Sepia for Mojuba sub label a.r.t.less and hits us with a real time soundscape of the moment, an epic-like document of these times. The rhythms are subtle, sometimes broken, the time structures often complex, this is not primarily dance floor orientated music. These sounds are way more cerebral, for the heads. They reflect perfectly the complexities of life we are experiencing in 2020.

The edges are rounded with occasional strolling bass lines and comfy chords. Slabs of keys and spaced out female vocals like a psychedelic journey that scares you at first yet comforts you soon after. Sam McQueen's mediatory sounds give an overwhelming sense of the moment. The music makes you take time out and listen. Its purposeful manner suggests there are more hours in the day, like time slowing down a pause, like the sun slithering slowly behind the horizon. These are sunset sounds for dark back-rooms.

Daytime or night, it works. This is the soundtrack for the other room, the deeper sounds not designed to make you dance. This music doesn't get in your face, it creeps up and smacks you on the ass. There are elements of early nineties UK Techno, a warmth and delicateness that pervades a distinct lack of four four dance floor in the beat structures, a softer tone throughout than the harder Detroit techno sounds of the same era but still nods and acknowledgements to the D in the layout and way the sounds present themselves. Think John Beltran, Symbols and Instruments, Black Dog or Kirk DeGiorgio, mid 90s Berlin sounds from Basic Channel / Rhythm & Sound, but in lockdown. Music for today's modern lacking landscape. The sounds often familiar, analogue, the drums, hi hats and snares, shimmer, jazz style. They accentuate and push the rest of the elements around them.
?In a bygone era this would be crudely classed as Chill Out music. In 2020 Covid era its about how it makes you feel as you relax and really listen to it. It is about emotion and empathy, a oneness, a new unknown and a deeper train of thought for the listener. Much like 2020, Sam McQueen lays the pieces round the edge of the jigsaw and lets you fill in the rest.

One year after the landing of his long-awaited eponymous debut album, French producer Zimmer is back with a massive remix package to make the pleasure last, and he’s certainly put on a great spread for the occasion.

Up on duty for this second round of synth-splattered, stargazing goodies, we find none other than Herr Gerd Janson in the saddle for a pair of ‘short' and ‘extended’ dance versions, expert vibist Lauer, Mexican outfit Zombies In Miami, US-based producer Amtrac, with French clique homeboys Kendal and You Man completing the set.

All synths blazing, Gerd Janson gets the ball rolling with a pair of prismatic reworks of ‘Rey’, tailored to take the dancers on a wildly fun and light-hearted space jaunt. No need for an intro, the ’short edit’ goes straight for the audio G-spot and takes no byway to get its point across - pure mellifluous, horizon-widening dancefloor carefreeness on the menu.

Don’t get too easily distracted by its title, the ‘extended version’ is no basement creeper but rather an enhanced summer-flavoured earworm that lays further emphasis on the drums and bass for optimal peak time functionality.

French duo You Man pick up the torch with an equally sturdy and emotional reshape of ‘Wildflowers (ft. Panama)’, nicely contrasting Panama’s suave vocals with thoroughly funk-oozing bass arpeggios that’ll melt any sweatbox down to the ground.

In comes Lauer’s reinterpretation of ‘Mouvement’ - a dynamic late-afternoon weapon meshing the hectic bounce of cascading synths and incendiary bass, hazed-out poolside vibes and pop-indebted melodic motifs. The result is a fast-paced heater primed for extended use from sunset to sunrise with vibrant variations in shades throughout.


A true solar-powered, mystique-imbued affair, Zombies In Miami’s take on ‘Mayans’ propels us in a fascinating continuum of pulsating rhythms, hyper-modern textures and smouldering ritualistic vibrations.

Adding his spin to ’Techno Disco’, rising talent Kendal shoots his shots with deadeye accuracy, luring you into a junglistic intro to better surprise you with his usual tsunami- like deluge of serpentine keyboard chords and epic buildups.

Topping off this variegated sonic journey, Amtrac takes us on a soul-healing trip with his revisit of ‘Make It Happen’ - laying down a particularly tasty downtempo pop jam for you to chill and dream yourself to sleep with, fully enlarged with his trademark streamlined, balmy signature.

FELA Jonathan Loma mix When Spain meets Africa. Musician Jonathan Loma from Spain on the mix with this joyful, innovative rhythm, infused with African sounds and samples. Noticeably, Nigerian legend Fela Kuti can be heard during the latter parts of the track behind the shifting drum patterns which give this record a very catchy beat. Swinging hats and rolling snares keep the beat flowing over a loopy and swirling melody. The unpredictable and spontaneous sounds sliding in and out display creativity from the Spanish producer, but the highlight here is the subtle African background chants. Just wait for the smooth sax to appear.FELA H2H mix contrast to the Jonathan Loma mix and edging things into deeper territories, the Chez Damier and Ben Vedren (Heart 2 Heart) take on the track is a deep and driving dance floor mover. Quite literally talking toyou with an African accent throughout the majority of the track, the locked groove engages the listener and has you wondering if it will ever end. Loud claps, well-placed short and sharp snare rolls, and like that ofthe Loma take; spontaneous sounds creeping in and out are all included over this cleverly layered deep beat

Purple Vinyl

Opening with "Absolut Bond (Sascha Müller My Name Is Acid Mix)" the pairs first collaboration effort weighs in a deep, hypnotic take on spiralling Acid music for strobe-lit underground raves whereas their second conjunctional joint "What I Mean (Great Evening Mix)" brings forth a darker, more pumping and minimalist approach whilst employing a creepy little motif that gets under your skin like the main theme from your favorite horror flic. On the flip we see Sascha Müller going on a double solo tip with "Work My 303", another masterly crafted Acid piece harking back to the finest twisted clubbing moments of the 90s, before the final cut "Generator Man" explores grinding, distorted Broken Techno / Wonky Techno realms, sucking each and every listener into a cold dystopian, post-apocalyptic future within seconds. Get this.

2x12"

Parisian label Another Moon are pleased to announce the imminent release of the second collaborative album by Scott Monteith aka Deadbeat and Paul St Hilaire aka Tikiman entitled 4 Quarters of Love and Modern Lash. When asked about about the album's motivations and production process, Monteith had the following to say: “I first heard Paul's voice back in 1996 when I stumbled upon the first Burial Mix 10 inch in a local shop, and it would be no exaggeration to say it has echoed in my mind ever since. We began working together in 2008, and it's fair to say the experience of performing and learning from him has left an indelible mark on my artistic process and my outlook on life in general. He is possessed of a truly electrifying spirit. I’ve had a folder on my hard drive called “For Tiki” for 14 years now, for those more often than not late night studio moments when I stumble upon a rhythmic or musical phrase and hear that unmistakable voice bubbling up in my mind. When that folder fills up with enough of those little magic moments I know it's time to call him, though strangely enough, he more often than not ends up calling me around those times. Such is his deep universal awareness.” “I wrote the initial sketches for what would eventually become this new album over the course of last year to a large extent as a way of trying to process what I perceived as a creeping darkness and sickness in both my own life and the world in general that desperately needed exorcising. When I received his initial responses I nearly fell off my chair. It goes without saying that Paul is a lyricist and poet second to none, and anyone familiar with his enormous body of work can attest to that. And yet, there was something in these latest pieces that hammered the proverbial nail clean through the wood. They perfectly captured this sense of rising tension, of a world that was getting almost psychedelically weirder and darker by the day, and both held a mirror up to this and offered some much needed release. Little did we know, nor could we possibly have imagined, that by the time the record actually hit the shelves, things would get exponentially weirder and darker still.” “It is my great hope that at some point in the coming months we will be able to get back on the road and share these new pieces with people in a live setting, as performing with Tiki is truly one of my greatest joys, and I think it’s where the fire in our work together truly burns brightest. In the meantime, it is my great hope that these 4 long form meditations might provide a little solace for people in their isolation, be it quietly, eyes closed lying on the coach, or cranked up, full on raving in their living rooms.”

Kajunga is proud to release unheard material from the wise and honorable Heckadecimal. “Critters” is a collection of 5 unique hardware built tracks that scurry from moody and contemplative to charged and frantic.

“Bat Silk Stunt” starts the record off with resonant acid bass lines creeping through a rich forest of analog drums. “D’etre” shifts the tone into a pool of moody progressions, dissonant sequences, and syncopated grooves. Living up to it’s namesake, “Acid Tenders” provides an exciting exploration of unbridled 303 energy. “Digital Foam” picks up the pace with frantic and squiggly textures that skitter about as a deranged synth-line takes command. “The Luminous Flesh of Giants” rounds out the journey with a 4/4 crawl through wistful melodies and iridescent chords.



Heckadecimal has been a fixture of the Minneapolis DIY electronic music scene since Time Untold, or around the turn of the century. He’s been an unwavering force and advocate for sonic experimentation, known for his energetic live sets of pure machine fun, from bouncy electro to breaky techno and acidic wiggles galore.

Heckadecimal has released on Great Circles, Electric Music Foundation, and his own label, Always Human Tapes, co-run with Ryan Wurst and TML. Past projects and collaborations include: The Worm, Two Human, noface, Clavin Klein, Joshua Michaels & Allen Smithee. Recently he’s dropped hours of live material via Bandcamp spanning 8 releases. He’s thinking of learning how to DJ

After years of searching for the elusive sensation of heart-rending beauty, Avondlicht releases his debut album on 3 April, 2020 on all digital platforms. The LP will be out on 8/4.

Hyperromance is the culmination of an emotional and geographical journey, as Belgian producer Matthias Dziwak sought to find and examine idealised moments of true romance within the less-than-romantic reality of existence.

Having already achieved a great deal with his initial run of EPs for labels like PIAS, Fog Mountain and Unit Delta Plus, Antwerp-based Dziwak became obsessed with the concept of Hyperromance – “a moment or idea so heavily romanticised that it seems impossible to be really experienced.” The melancholic feeling it sparked in his heart set him off on a journey through Argentina, Chile and Uruguay, via a month-long stay in Amsterdam and finally to settling for six months in Portugal. Throughout this time he made field recordings and began writing pieces that would feed into the finished album. Along the way he found a full spectrum of moments that allowed him to view the world in a truly romantic way, from the majesty of the Andean mountains and the snow falling on the Amsterdamse Grachten to encountering love in Lisbon. At other times he found himself lost, adrift and heartbroken, pulled back to Earth, as is the cyclical nature of the human experience.

Musically, Hyperromance’s grapple with day-to-day reality and rose-tinted fantasy is embodied through the contrast between organic instrumentation and high-definition electronics. Dziwak began writing his songs as simple piano pieces, which then transferred to a staple of synths and sound processing as they became more wholly defined. Sonically, the sound sweeps from modern classical and bombastic electronica to evocative ambient, even touching on jungle and techno along the way. Rather than being defined by genre associations though, Hyperromance is shaped by the swooning beauty of its composition, as the music pulls you in and out of richly rendered moments of joy and pain following Dziwak on his personal journey of truth and beauty. With visceral life experiences woven into the fabric of the record, Hyperromance is expressive on the most intimate level. It’s a record that dazzles with searing bright wonderment and casts creeping shadows as the time passes – a journey as nuanced as life itself, elevated by romance and grounded by reality, beautifully told by Avondlicht.

Recorded mostly as a live-jam, august 2019, Il Sogno di Carmen is the result of a solitary producer meeting a nomad musician, Viscardi & Alano Santo. A brand new friendship. From there, the duo leads us to a spontaneous and fragile vacation story that yet manages to frame, with a sometimes mischievous accuracy, the current Genevan musical spirit : experimental, sincere, hybrid and hot. “I have no idea where this will lead us. But I have a definite feeling it will be a place both
wonderful and strange. Deep into summer, most definitely. The season of torrid bodies, of slowed down movements ; where melancholy creeps in the form of light and inconstant paragraphs, italian-style. Dragged around in hedonistic reunions, spiritual vagrancies and the soothing coolness of the Rhone river, Carmen is smooth and frivolous. She loosens up. Nothing is important. It can wait. Him too, you mainly. Geneva in the tropics, Bongo Joe on
the terrace, stolen emerald glances & air-conditioned airports. That's it. A wonderful and insignifiant story”.

Tyyni is the third album by Finnish-born sound artist and musician Cucina Povera aka Maria Rossi. The second album recorded using a more studio-based scenario – as opposed to last year’s Zoom, a collection of in-situ, spontaneous recordings – Tyyni feels like a slowly unfurling mediation on the clash between nature and mechanical living, a rumination on the complexities of modern life that begin to unveil more about the inner landscape of the artist as it progresses. A Finnish word referring to still, serene weather, the title belies a new note of turmoil in Cucina Povera’s soundworld. Tyyni represents a more detailed focus on the sculpting of sounds that curl around Rossi’s hymnal vocal performances. It’s a more adventurous work than Rossi’s previous output that goes further into noise elements and vocal abstraction while maintaining the balance and ecclesiastical ecstasy of her debut Hilja.

While tension at the core of Cucina Povera is always prevalent, previously it was organic sounds that were used to counterpoint Rossi’s singing but on Tyyni these are often replaced with aggressive synths and distortion, profane clashes with the seemingly sacred hymns. Whether close mic’d and intoning in a loop or in full flight, Maria Rossi’s voice remains in the foreground, set here against a more synthetic backdrop. This development builds new worlds for Cucina Povera, a digital environment which brings in a sense of the alien for Rossi’s vocal to duel. The effect is often dazzling. On Salvia Salvatrix, an ode to the medicinal plant used to ward off evil spirits, Rossi’s invocation is encircled by a distorted synth sound tearing at the fabric of the composition. It’s an inspired juxtaposition, leaving the listener to appreciate both sounds as separate and as a duet. Anarkian kuvajainen embraces a sense of chaos, an accidental transmitting mobile phone’s pulse is swept up gently with looped synth swells as Rossi’s prayer-like vocal rhythmically teases the composition into loops that embrace and then drift apart. Teerenpeli flirts with a minimal beat rendered by sampler and processed, layered field recordings of capercaillies, while Side A ends with one of Rossi’s most beautiful, simple tracks yet recorded. Varjokuvatanssi is an a cappela recording built on top of a wordless glossolalia, a shadowy interplay which foregrounds the solo vocal.

Pölytön nurkka is the most melodic song yet recorded by Cucina Povera. While it still maintains an off-the-cuff performance style, the synthesized chimes and 4/4 beat are smothered by a distorted synthesizer which almost replicates the bravado of an electric guitar feedbacking into the night. Rossi’s subject matter talks of trying to start anew, getting rid of extraneous material, perhaps still feeling powerless to affect positive change. On Haaksirikkoutunut, the protagonist vocal is lost, a vessel rudderless on the ocean, buffeted by waves metaphorical or real, digital, atonal chords gurgling and splashing against the bow, a storm forever brewing on the horizon. Saniaiset recalls Coil in its eldritch, nocturnal tone and digital-bell like synth, Rossi’s half-spoken/half-sung voice attaining a creepy tone before flipping into flight. Album closer Jolkottelureitti uses an escalating, sequenced synth that splinters into both abrasive tones and harmonising chords creating a kosmische effect, reminding the listener of Kluster or synth-era Popol Vuh, all the while elevated by Rossi’s searching vocalising.

For an artist with such a singularly unique musical language, Cucina Povera is continually teasing new strands and emotive tones from an evolving palette. Most importantly, Tyyni appears to be pulling back the veil to uncover an artist finding a synergy between her own emotional inner world and practice. As such, on her third album, Maria Rossi has found a third way between abstraction and extraneous emotion, personal experience turned inside out to reveal more about the listener.

**LP FORMAT IS VERY LIMITED - PLEASE BE AWARE THAT UNFORTUNATELY THERE MAY BE CUTS TO ORDERS**

For Los Angeles' The Black Queen, the depths of isolation and loss have always functioned as a gateway to being born anew. Much has transpired since the band released their cold, cutting debut album Fever Daydream (a record that Revolver described as 'a haunting exploration of the darker side of pop music'). But throughout it all, the trio of Greg Puciato (former frontman of the now-defunct The Dillinger Escape Plan), Joshua Eustis (of Telefon Tel Aviv, Puscifer, and Nine Inch Nails), and Steven Alexander (a tech member for Nine Inch Nails, Ke$ha, and A Perfect Circle) have emerged as triumphant and intense as ever, documenting their journey via the synth-streaked industrial anthems of their sophomore release, Infinite Games.Formed in 2011 after a chance meeting between Puciato and Eustis backstage at a Dillinger show in which they both realized they were huge fansof each other's work, The Black Queen became a labor of love for its members to explore sounds and emotions that they couldn't quite fit into their full-time projects. Injecting a pained, twilit edge into slick new-wave tracks as fit for the dance floor as they are for some imagined dystopian skyline, the trio have managed to channel their scattered, eclectic influences into a surprisingly cohesive vision. 'We've got a pretty weird cross section,' Puciato says of the band's musical chemistry. 'We can go out for food and listen to Power Trip on the way there, then Baltimore club music on the way back, and then talk about how killer Maxwell's Embrya album was, and then get sidetracked and talk about the Celeste video game soundtrack, then all have to be quiet so that we can grab a voice recording of some weird sounding radio interference. It's all over the place and unusually far reaching,and there's a lot of passion for discovery.'After releasing their 2016 debut album Fever Daydream to critical acclaim however, the trio underwent several major upheavals that cast the project in a completely new light. Puciato's main project The Dillinger Escape Plan disbanded. Chris Cornell of Soundgarden killed himself while Puciato was on tour with him. Eustis put out music under his beloved Telefon Tel Aviv monikerfor the first time since his former bandmate Charles Cooper died in 2009. Thetrio's storage space was robbed. Puciato suffered a relapse into crippling anxiety and paranoia. Once again, in the face of tragedy, The Black Queen had to rebuild everything from the ground up.The first step was acquiring a new studio space, which immensely helped the band get back into the rhythm of freely collaborating with one another, and experimenting with sounds for as long (and as loud) as they wanted. The resulting album, Infinite Games, marks a massive leap forward for The Black Queen. Not only are the band's icy R&B instincts more sharply pronounced; they've also rendered their morbid electronics in more lush detail than ever before, filling out the corners of their songs with chilling ambient passages
that create a wide-screen backdrop for Puciato's eerie, tortured vocals. 'I think this album is actually hookier, but more insidious in that it reveals itself over time,' Puciato says about Infinite Games. His choice of words says something about the album's creeping, pitch-black approach to pop music.With this release, the group have also announced a new undertaking in the form of their new label, Federal Prisoner. Resisting the more marketing-centricapproach that feels standard at this point for the record label game, the goal of Federal Prisoner is to provide an outlet for projects that emerge naturally from The Black Queen's own creative endeavors and collaborations with otherartists. In a way, Federal Prisoner solidifies TBQ's commitment to creating music on their own terms, following the same organic sense of inspiration that led them to forming in the first place. As Puciato puts it, 'It's just an expression of passion and individualism in a way that opens more doors for us to create and to own what we create with minimal compromise. It's as much an act of refusal as it is a statement of intent.'Infinite Games, the second album from experimental Los Angeles synth-pop trio The Black Queen, comes out on September 28th

Gigantic producer/DJ from Scotland, Creep Woland, lands back on the Astral Black heli-pad with his 'Chamberlain' EP. Four blistering breaks-led, club ready, jungle tracks intended as an ode to the rolling bass and rainy days that raised him. Picking up near enough where his Close Reading debut left off, Chamberlain sees a more refined and honed execution of the hard hitting electronica Woland has become known for.

Informed by the experience of playing to dance-floors, as well as educational journeys down to London for radio sets, these new tracks are fine tuned and bass heavy - perfect for existential club experiences or the driving of sports vehicles. The subdued intrigue of EP opener 'Imposter Syndrome' sets the mystical and reflective tone of the record, while down the line junglist anthems 'Medieval Draw' and '0800-Falkirk Triangle' call for slow motion gun finger. Written at a time of personal hardship and mastery of oneself, the hopeful promise of closer 'Lord Chamberlain' acts as a sonic representation of the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel of this particular time in Woland's life.

Recently, Chamberlain EP's 'Imposter Syndrome' has been receiving early radio support from Rinse FM's Jossy Mitsu & Impey on NTS, whilst his debut release Close Reading received radio support from the likes of Josey Rebelle (in her award-winning Essential Mix), Om-Unit and JD. Reid as well as critical acclaim from FACT, CLASH & Hyponik. In addition to its various accolades, Close Reading also lead to Woland being handpicked by Lanark Artefax as the opening act for his 'Enter The Gateway' performance, and has since performed alongside the likes of Om-Unit, Proc Fiskal, DJ Storm and more.

Deliberately breaking all the rules Mr. Hornby once famously outlined regarding the creation of homemade (tape) compilations, Saroos’ members indeed had the term “mixtape” on their minds while working on their latest full-length – albeit in the hip-hop sense: a sonic snack box, interconnected shots from the hip, something that just came together and immediately felt right.

Whereas hip-hop folks nowadays often use the vacuous term “project” in order to steer clear of the ontological debate caused by the almost synonymous use of album/mixtape, Florian Zimmer, Christoph Brandner, and Max Punktezahl, otherwise busy with The Notwist, Driftmachine & Lali Puna, stick to the classics: their new 16-track project “OLU” (Off Label Use) is, officially, still an album. But it’s wild and vibrant like a mixtape, interwoven like its cover: a seamless burst of ideas, impulsively combined to form a split-screen snapshot of recent moments and momentums.

Re-appropriating the term “Off Label Use” – which actually means: using prescription drugs in ways that aren’t mentioned on the instruction leaflet – in their own “off-label” way, Saroos never sounded more loose-limbed and elastic. Whereas the trio’s earlier releases were rather conceptual and homogenous, “OLU” indeed has a more loose, spur-of-the-moment feel, a spontaneous force at its core. Checking the weighty sci-fi inspirations at the door, they use that Bomb Shelter-type of freedom to reinvent themselves at every turn, chasing sounds that happened to emerge in the group’s triangular energy field.

Kicking it off “with a killer, to grab attention” (Hornby/Cusack, after all), the massive reverb-stumblin’ adjustment between beats and bass of opening track “Quarantaine” cross-fades smoothly into “Humdrum Rolloff,” an early hint at the group’s off-label practices: the underwater creepers floating around here were really voices (mostly). From majestically built oriental sound-pieces (“Looney Suite Serenade”), synth-based “End House Mario” and a triptych of speaker-boxxxing gas lamp experimentations entitled “Cord Burn 1-3,” Saroos have rarely sounded this playful and unrestricted: there’s a new energy at work that welds all the different sonic playing fields together to create one continuous 40 minute mix.

For the B-side descent, “Tatsu Jam,” at less than 4 minutes still the longest cut, billows over the kind of sizzling hi-hats you’d expect to hear on real trap tapes from Hotlanta. A prelude to a bunch of quicker-paced instrumentals (“Scratch Pets”, “24h Love Gumbo”) and ambient sun showers, until the next “Plateau” (Mo’Wax vibes!) brings the beats to the fore once again (“Tomorrow’s Kudos”), and the ultimate “Whirligig” sounds like a mix of Oktoberfest 2020 and Johnston’s “Casper The Friendly Ghost” coming apart at the seams.
Whatever you wanna call it – album, LP, mixtape, project, who cares? –, it’s definitely a double A-side tour-de-force.

When Elena Colombi launched the Osàre! Editions label in the autumn of 2019, she explained that the label would become home to bold, daring, future-facing music rooted in experimentation and free-spirited musical abandon. These are all descriptions that could apply to the label’s latest release, a retrospective album of little-known works by Greek musician and producer Thanasis Zlatanos.

Many will not have heard of Zlatanos, or Nekropolis, the band he fronted alongside dear friend and regular collaborator Trygve Mathiesen, yet the music he made during the 1980s was otherworldly, intergalactic and undoubtedly alluring. These songs and instrumentals made extensive use of analogue synthesizers and lo-fi drum machines, as well as Zlatanos’s trusted Gibson Les Paul guitar and his own distinctive voice.

Stylistically, the musician and producer refused to settle on a specific sound, preferring instead to create inspired, often mind-altering pieces that join the dots between wave music, skewed leftfield pop, ambient, prototype electronic and Madedonian folk music. Operating for much of the period from a crumbling house earmarked for demolition, Zlatanos kept up a daily music-making vigil that resulted in a vast vault of music, most of which has remained unissued since the 1980s.

The breadth of and width of Zlatanos’s distinctive approach is laid bare on Retrospective, a compilation album prepared by Colombi and the artist himself that draws on tracks from his numerous albums, those by Nekropolis – whose sophomore set “The New Europeans” was banned in Norway – and his epic archive of previously unheard material.

The artist’s singular but wide-ranging musical vision is free for all to see across the 13 tracks stretched across the vinyl version of the album (digital buyers also get a further four superb cuts). It veers attractively from the ghostly, traditional-meets-futuristic new age electronica of “The Crystal Sight (Excerpt)” and the doom-laden coldwave throb of “Master Chameleon”, to the undulating, soft-touch creepiness of “Surreal Moment”, the Vocoder-laden operatic poignancy of “The New Barbarians” and the squally guitar solos and effects-laden electronics of “The Light”.

Words from the artist___:
"I live in the Internet. Visits from outer space make me compose. I breathe here. I am the master chameleon, the psychedelic clown. I am not here anymore, neither in the picture, nor the reflection. Our bed is a boat that takes us tomorrow without us.

Here is an album of dreams and digital emotions. Analogue recordings made with a Prophet, a Moog Rogue, a tape recorder and a Gibson Les Paul guitar.

As far as I can remember I have always been in a recording studio. I listen to, understand and live my life through songs and music. I have worked alone and with friends such as Trygve Mathiesen. Although I am a guitarist, I continue to work with synthesizers on music that blends elements of Macedonian folk music, recordings from the streets and embryonic electronic sounds.

Some of my albums have been critically acclaimed, others banned by radio stations. For years I worked on endless recording sessions in a crumbling house that should have been torn down. The music on this retrospective compilation was recorded at various points between 1982 and the present day. Some of the compositions first appeared on previous albums, while others have never been released before. They were sat on tapes waiting for a saviour. Now that saviour has arrived and they can be free.

For further proof of Zlatanos’s unique sonic approach, check the startling contrast between the bass-laden slacker pop headiness of “No Expectations” and the spacey ambience of “The Dead Don’t Remember”. Considered together, the selected pieces and those elsewhere on Retrospective forms a snapshot of a genuinely unique and visionary musician, composer and producer. It’s a celebration of someone whose work has previously been overlooked."