Suche:just cris

'Welcome to Hotel Heaven' is a fresh start for is George van den Broek, a young man with an old soul and the voice to match. His music as Yellow Days fittingly, feels both of his era and completely other: a woozy mixture of soul, blues, psych, and groove leaking through the walls of a jazz lounge that's come unstuck in time. A self-taught multi-instrumentalist, George has never fit into one style or space. Despite George being an old soul — he hates social media, loves vinyl, and collects old cameras — Yellow Days really is a project about youth and modernity: “Hotel Heaven represents fake comfort in all its forms, this whole bullshit idea of luxury where nothing is real,” explains George. “There are so many young people who are living that kind of life. Because of the cost of living crisis, people are spending all they’ve got on a bag of white powder just to make them feel nice. Their jaws are still swinging at four o’clock in the morning, but they’re not saying anything. I wanted to write about these people and everything that is happening right now. This TikTok age where everyone wants to be famous. It’s also a big 360 of my life and career to date. I wanted to get away from everything I’d done before, wash my face and start afresh.” - Yellow Days

Larry June & prolific producer Cardo have joined forces once again to bring you their latest masterpiece: "The Night Shift," a nocturnal adventure that takes you on a ride through the vivid and pulsating streets of Larry's life, as brought to life by Cardo's distinctive production. Larry June, the San Francisco native known for his smooth, laid-back flow and his unwavering commitment to living a healthy and prosperous lifestyle, seamlessly blends his distinctive style with Cardo's signature production, creating a sound that's as crisp and refreshing as a glass of cold-pressed orange juice. "The Night Shift" is the soundtrack to those late-night drives, providing the perfect backdrop for contemplation and cruising. "The Night Shift" is more than just an album; it's a testament to the chemistry between Larry June and Cardo, two artists at the top of their game. This project is a reminder that, in the still of the night, when the city's lights are aglow, and the world is asleep, Larry June and Cardo are hard at work, crafting music that transcends time and place.

Daga Voladora's last album came out in 2016. To alleviate such a long wait, only a couple of celebrated singles. Now, finally, Cristina Plaza (identity gracefully hidden under the Daga Voladora name that was before Gran Aparato Eléctrico and also a quarter of Los Eterno and half of Clovis) releases an album and does it, for the first time, in vinyl format. "Los manantiales" is the title of the happy and long-awaited return of an artist that never completely left.

"Los manantiales" ("The Springs") refers to all those sources from which I drink to make my songs: Stereolab, Broadcast, Galaxie 500, Cate Le Bon... And also some of the flamenco language. Flamenco in my own way, of course," explains Plaza. "Los manantiales" will also bring echoes of acts that the artist has not practiced as much such as Esclarecidos, Vainica Doble, Ana D or Kikí d'Akí. Deep voices for songs with substance.

But there is also that other idea of the spring that gushes forth when it can no longer be contained. "It has taken me so many years to make this album because I had a prejudice related to the previous one "Primer segundo" in which there was a coherence. Not finding that concept or thinking that this or that wasn't Daga Voladora, I couldn't get into it. Until I decided that maybe I didn't have to impose such a rigid direction on myself..."

Sketched in a town bordering Ávila where Plaza decided to get lost in the summer of 2022 and then finished off in a basement in Madrid for several months, the nine songs of "Los manantiales" make up a short album, premeditatedly short ("I don't like the songs to be longer than 2:50") but, above all, varied. Because, as can be sensed in the song Quise ser ( "I wanted to be a fictional hero, an expressionist painter, a promising actress"), here are all the imagined Cristinas and their different lives ("The song Lejos de la multitud is that longing of mine to be a vagabond"), an unmistakable sign that, as the artist confesses, "I am my own spring". And all this joyful dispersion comes from the premise with which Plaza approached the album: "I said to myself: 'Let's play'. I set out to have a good time. Suddenly, I wanted to do a dub track and I came up with Fosforito or a rock song like Lou Reed in the 80s and there was 'Me vi penando'. I wanted a rock record, an experimental record, something like Broadcast, and a musical! I wanted to do a thousand things!"

The result is a playful album, very enjoyable; but above all elegant and extremely precise. In both form and substance. Thus, the melodies are so rounded at first listen; the music would work perfectly on its own, stripped of lyrics that respond to the maxim, so often ignored, that there is really only one way to say things. "I have tried to refine the texts a lot. There are some phrases taken from Steinbeck, other things that emerge in a somewhat magical way. There's also Gary Snyder, Kerouac and his Dharma Bums, echoes of California..."

It's an album made, as usual with her, in the most absolute solitude (except for the collaboration of Andrés Arregui on sax and the final mix by Fino Oyonarte). Bareback. "I recorded everything with my computer, with my instruments, my analog keyboards, my rhythm boxes, little noises I make around... I don't make demos. I just do it. In a rough way. What I do do is repeat. The good thing about this method is that many things happen spontaneously and that's where they stay".

An album that, for all of the above, responds to the best notion of caprice. A whimsical whim, signed and finished off by the splendid cover designed by Beatriz Lobo, which feartures a painting ('La chica del King Creole') by the legendary artist Javier de Juan.

In "Los manantiales" there are many possible worlds, as many dreamed ones. Of course, those of Daga Voladora (not in vain, the album opens with a song titled Cristinópolis), but also those of any curious and sensitive listener who, by the way, will find more than one musical wink along the way. You just have to be attentive.

Tyler Pope's latest EP is an absolute belter, and the primary concern these four tracks are asking of you is right up front: Pay Attention to the Bass. And, honestly, with a sense low-end like what's on display here, how could you not? This new release from Pope-a dance veteran who's also known as a full-time member of LCD Soundsystem as well as a collaborator with artists like Hercules & Love Affair and Pantha Du Prince-arrives on his always eclectic Interference Pattern label, an imprint that has previously spanned left-field electronic sounds, noise rock, and avant-R&B. As such, Pay Attention to the Bass is anything but straightforward, with ricocheting rhythms and alluring textures that are as easy to get lost in as they are to move your body to.

Listeners familiar with last year's Make Each Other Happy EP, which embraced dark disco grooves and crisp percussion, will be delighted at the new curveballs on display here: "Why Must I" euphorically merges the propulsive charge of UK funky with delicious piano-house stabs, while "OKay" anchors itself around a rubbery bass line like a lost cut from the Remain In Light sessions. The flip side gets dark and dank with it, as "Close the Door" echoes with spooky clatter and dubby wobbles before sprightly vibes break through-and the closing cut "Where r they Hiding" goes full-on tunnel techno with it, conjuring a mood that recalls the haunted house music of Sandwell District as well as the cold-sweat futuristic visions of jungle. With Pay Attention to the Bass, Pope expands his sound wider than ever, and it just so happens that it's an absolute blast to listen to as well.

Sully returns to Astrophonica for a celestial collaboration with young Manchester based vocalist Salo.

Always one step ahead of the pack, Sully relinquishes the signature crusty Jungle breaks in exchange for crisp and steely, live sounding drums to provide the groove for a stripped back and crushed 808 bassline - a hi-def take on his iconic sound. This minimalist structure gives the foundations and space for Salo’s bittersweet vocals to take the lead with clarity and float off into the glorious twilight. A celestial collaboration that spotlights both artists’ strong points.

Sully totally flips the script with the ‘Not Just a Dub Mix’ by taking Salo’s vocals and giving them the Tubby treatment. The Jungle breaks return and sirens ring out - one for the club Salo, born in Tbilisi, Georgia before moving to Manchester via Glasgow as a child, is a classically trained pianist with all the swagger and charm of Manchester club music. She studied at Glasgow Music Academy and Royal Northern College of Music before working with club legends such as Zed Bias, Chimpo and Bassboy.

This is Sully’s first return to the label since 2020’s seminal, highly requested and repressed Swandive EP. At this point he honestly needs little introduction - he’s become one of the highest selling and most sought after Jungle artists for the best part of a decade and shows no signs of stopping

“But into my miserable brain, always concerned with looking for noon at two o’clock" - Charles Baudelaire (1869)

The Foreign Department is the second album by Astrel K, the solo project helmed by Stockholm-based British ex-pat, Rhys Edwards. Those already familiar with Edwards’ work will likely know him for fronting the cultishly great Ulrika Spacek, and given he operates as the principal songwriter in both projects, much of the same hallmarks of his cathartic, elliptical songwriting are present in Astrel K. Nonetheless, The Foreign Department feels like a rubicon moment of sorts, and the album that Edwards has unconsciously been working towards his entire creative life.

As a title, The Foreign Department offers an instructive guide for the listener, framing a life-in-transition/artist-in-exile document that maps two impromptu moves in twelve months for its songwriter: the first from London in pursuit of a relationship, the second between homes in Stockholm as that decade long relationship then suddenly dissolved. Indeed, diffusion, dissolution and reconstitution feel like appropriate touchstones for its recurring themes. Written amidst the flux of two states, at once isolated from home and then any established emotional anchor, the resulting eleven tracks came to represent a precognitive search for shifting identity and with it forming an unwittingly biographical record. It's commendable and somewhat telling that during this shake up, Edwards somehow landed upon his most realised and original work.

With a former life stripped away, there emerged an opportunity to reinvent a sense of self through art, now not just as a writer, but a composer also. Developing the confidence to arrange songs in ways he'd previously considered off-limits, while also taking cues from the opulent string and brass arrangements of records like Mercury Rev's Deserters' Songs and Death of A Ladies Man by Leonard Cohen, Edwards enlisted a range of performers to bring to life the mini-symphonies forming in his head. Perhaps it's inevitable that an album written while facing the consequences of being alone would eventually ossify around the process of bringing people together.

For all its troubled origins, The Foreign Department is a remarkably warm sounding collection. Edwards' lyrics are typically knotty and neurotic, dancing around the poetry of quarter-life anxiety, but the music itself is often joyous and even uplifting, the combination expressing that neat duality of melancholic euphoria. Edwards sings variously of crises, "torrid pieces of art", of "houses on fire" and not "having the guts for it", yet these troubling sentiments are framed by seemingly incongruous swelling strings, chirping horns or motorik percussion, creating that sense of pushing forward or floating above, of wrapping your troubles in dreams, a salve for the moments when you get a bit too much for yourself.

Lead single, 'Darkness At Noon', likely captures this all best. Named for the French idiom "midi a quatorze heures", the maddening idea of attempting the impossible for the sake of some greater possibly pointless cause, it directly grapples with the opposing notions of wanting and not wanting, of being here and being there at the same time. The conflicting and impossible self. It’s something Edwards addresses in the song at perhaps his most open, opining, “I know I want to be seen, but I hate most of what comes out of me”. And yet here is, putting it all out in the open and on the line, the dialectics of his enlightenment up on show.

Soft Walls is the solo recording project of Dan Reeves, who has spent his entire adult life kicking around in the dust of the UK's underground music scenes. Cutting his teeth in the South West's post-hardcore scene; centred around Exeter's The Cavern club, before moving to the South East and forming his own record label; Faux Discx, and the propulsive post-punk band: Brighton via London's Cold Pumas. Projects have come and gone over the years, but Reeves' Soft Walls has remained, an outlet for whatever musical whim takes his fancy.

'True Love' is Soft Walls' 4th album. Written and recorded at home, during breaks in work. During the aftermath of you-know-what.

For this album Dan leaned heavily in to his guitar playing, searching for those purest moments of true emotion and connection. Aiming to strike an instant blow. "Emotional guitar music. But not Emo." The result of falling in love with an instrument again and playing for the joy of it, much like he did as a teenager. Just older, wiser(?) and certainly more world-weary / teary-eyed.

Thematically, 'True Love' revels in stating its love for everything that is dear to Reeves. Odes to marriage, romance, unconditional love, parenthood and creativity pierce through the record's down-swings that tackle existential crisis and the feeling of falling in to depression. Each song attempts to encapsulate a vivid feeling, be it positive or negative. It's all part of a life worth living.

Although recorded at home, this album marks a leap in to digital mid-fidelity for Soft Walls, embracing a wider, richer sound beyond the tape hiss of earlier releases. That same spirt is still in the mix, but is presented wide-eyed and caffeinated in to clarity. Elevated by the input of a handful of collaborators contributing to the performances and helping to shape it sonically, 'True Love' ends up being the truest version of Soft Walls committed to (digital) tape thus far.

The cinematic opening track Inthenever starts off as a film >> somewhere on a desolate coast, where everything has already ceased. This is going to be an album with a story and depth, a fearless tour of the barren shores of our days // or is it possibly just a mirage conclusion of their razor-sharp sound brutalism? Tittingur's third album, Epiphany, is here, pounding with waves they had not done before.

It seems as though this dyad has disposed of all the genre confines that had locked them in, and have grasped the sound of new subject matters, for which the moniker of experimental techno is finally too narrow. With utter urgency and candid to their emblematic, thunderous sound, Dominik's and Matus's deafening mallets collide in beats which are now, more than ever, drenched in a mass of palpable gloom and anguish. As though we could touch the rising levels of the oceans, and smell the melting of the glaciers themselves.

In one way or another, the music of Tittingur has always been about nature, its fierce essence, and its stark contrast with the post-era that we have found ourselves living in. However, whereas before, it was the sound of old, weather-stained concrete, and the pounding of abandoned, overgrown buildings, now it is, unavoidably, their most direct and honest return to nature landscapes, and to human, age-old traditions, referenced in the Slovak folk motives, recordings and found sounds.

On Epiphany, Tittingur's sound becomes yet more abstract, in a sound world that is ambiguous but also unified, and works on its own. The duality of nature and technology, of inland human folklore and the trenches of deepest oceans, invite us to come closer and observe the volatile obliteration taking place. Can we even attempt to re-assess our position with nature, or is this whole experiment doomed to fail?

Unsurprisingly, in the echoes, all the ingredients of the classic Tittingur sound are still present, distilled into new forms >> the ever-present over-saturation, the exaggerated, maximalist approach and megalomania >> the sound of impending climate change, doom, and near-apocalyptic visions, the scent of borovička mixed with the wild North Sea, the agony of contemporary urban life, and the adventure of wilderness: ferocious synths, monumental beats, aggressive basslines and crumbling noise-scapes built of a found-sound, music concréte-like, collagist approach.

At moments, it seems the means have changed. Just until you realise that the sentences of this story are spoken in a new language. If you dive deep enough, and listen to the essence that the music of Tittingur articulates, it's surprisingly easy to understand >> although the notions and emotions are difficult to put into words. The profound narrative of Epiphany is that of an endless inner struggle of society, anxiety, crises, and ambiguously easy // difficult solutions in the post-modern global chaos. It is the calm before a storm. It is the storm. Is it the calm. It is all of it, in itself. credits

It’s a family affair. One formed almost thirty years ago, back in the mid-nineties, when the pair joined seminal French jazz combo Olympic Grammofon. For twenty-four years they have worked together as Bumcello, each complementing the other, echoing polar opposites. The Boom in Bumcello is none other than Cyril Atef, incisive drummer, relentlessly pushing beats towards new horizons. The Cello is Vincent Ségal, cellist without blinkers and extraordinary musical alchemist. Since 1999, these two die-hard music fans, coming together for mercurial results, have released one record after the other whilst conquering the hearts of their live audiences, old regulars as well as new recruits. We have all been seduced by the way their music leapfrogs categories - these two experts are much more interested in kindred spirits than pigeonholing, and this very spirit is celebrated on more than one track of this ninth record, whose concept is original to say the least.

Everything began with an idea by Cyril Atef - a soundtrack based upon drawings penned by Marin, Vincent’s son, architect and visual artist. The musicians involved then coached their reaction to these images on a score, and the pair were charged with collating and adjusting the results. These thirteen ink drawings, in a heroic fantasy vein, constituted a matrix which was then to serve as a guide, like a roadmap through a singular and multi-faceted labyrinth. The key to this sonic fresco is in Bumcello’s image – an eclectic aesthetic twinned with a great sense of contrast. Herein lies the trademark of this entity animated by the gift of musical ubiquity, gorged on scales and rhythms, capable of a slap as much as a gentle caress. From classical music to electronics, from improvised music to sophisti-pop, everything is allowed with no preconceived ideas. They can even reclaim the traditions of others, all the better to propel them towards new horizons - this is how the very history of music has always panned out.

If you listen between the lines and look at the details, more than one piece bears witness to the moments and individuals that have impacted the criss-crossing lives of Vincent and Cyril. The track Crash is the perfect excuse to create a Jamaican-style jam with New York inflections, and we can see, in capital letters, the name Hilaire Penda, playing alongside Bumcello at the Apollo Theater in the associated drawing. This bass player from Cameroon, who died on 5th November 2018, was more than just a friend for the two Frenchmen. He was one of the family. Similarly, they give a nod to another Cameroonian, and another departed friend - singer of rock band les Têtes brûlées, Zanzibar, through the vocals of fellow countryman Zanzi. The ghost of Rémi Kolpa Kopul, emblematic voice of Radio Nova, haunts the margins of Spark Av, in a vocal sample with a smattering of effects. As for I Remember Tim, it directly honours the memory of Timothy Jerome Parker, aka The Gift Of Gab, another friend who left us in 2021. Tim is depicted in a drawing with the docks of Oakland in the background, and it’s his alter ego within Blackalicious, Chief Xcel, who remotely added his signature to the track, notably by adding the words of Lateef The Truthspeaker to brass and woodwind sounds.

These are the only additions to Bumcello’s original nucleus, all the better to create a genuine musical concoction where Vincent Taurelle is in charge of production and mixing sessions recorded live and direct. He is also invited for a twinkle on the keys (piano, synths, Wurlitzer, organ), on a handful of tracks. Already at the commands of previous opus Monster Talk, always taking care over the slightest detail, the one that makes all the difference, this pianist is now also part of the family. “Everything he brings is perfect, whether added though slight touches or through very important choices”, say the two members of a combo which today, appears to us under the guise of a trio, adding an extra dimension to a far-reaching mix, in the image of the veiled or more explicit tributes making up the cornerstones of this release.

Booker, a drawing where we see the musicians enter a club, honours James Booker, great pianist from New Orleans who has always fascinated Vincent, in a genre that is off-beat and gender defying. Her Story was created by Cyril in support of the Iranian women’s movement. Aysyen Kampe evokes, even in the original drawing, a tradition that remains impactful for Bumcello – Haitian mysticism, and Ouï Khouïette Ouï conjures up the beats of the Allaoui, a war dance from Western Algeria, one they have taken part in in the past with the help of Cheikha Rabia. They deliver a metal version, original and surprising, especially as Marin Ségal’s drawing features the Nicholas Brothers, those iconic dancers of the 30s jazz scene!

Resolutely hard to pin down, Bumcello’s beats can initially take on the structure of disjointed house, though Sangre begins like a film soundtrack, “in a Mexican style” adds Vincent, who was at the origin of this track. A delicate alap on the cello can open up onto afrobeat rhythms, a well-pitched voice can enchant, like on the amazing The City Has Eyes which has everything of a hummable pop hit. Emblematic of this manner of encompassing all music without being exclusive, Le Grand Sommeil, a direct reference to the Howard Hawks movie inspired by Raymond Chandler, a precursor of David Lynch, begins nice and smooth but ends on a wild tempo, on a drum’n’bass tip, as in the good old days of Cithéa, when this Party story began in the other century.

Warehouse find!

With '100% Dope' we find Central Processing Unit bringing up their hundredth catalogue number, and you'd struggle to find a more fitting artist to ring in a century of releases for the label than Cygnus. The one born Phillip Washington has been with CPU since the very beginning, his 2012 LP 'Newmark Phase' representing the first record ever released on the imprint. That album's combination of textured techno and grizzly Drexciyan electro set the tone for CPU perfectly, and it's no surprise that Cygnus has returned to the Sheffield imprint several times down the years.

While '100% Dope' is an expert demonstration of what Cygnus and CPU do, this EP also shows just how much both artist and label have grown over the past nine years. At its heart '100% Dope' is a set of prime machine-funk from a master of the form, but these are also some of the most daring and innovative tracks that Cygnus has ever produced.

Take opening cut 'Bad RGB Controller'. In the undulating synth lines we have a ghost of grime as well as Drexciyan drive, and as such the track reminds one as much of Mr. Mitch or Last Japan as it does, say, Dopplereffekt. Furthermore, 'Bad RGB Controller' shifts gear around the halfway mark into a highwire electronica mode which has the wit and spark of prime Bogdan Raczynski. Entries like 'Float Back To The Surface' are similarly unpredictable. There's some lovely industrial techno bite to this one - the snare drum will echo in your head long after the party's died down - but Cygnus periodically pulls out the rug from underneath us with passages of impressionistic texture that almost border on sound art.

'Float Back To The Surface' is one of a trio of vocoder-led jams here. On 'Throwing Shade' we hear I-F and Egyptian Lover, with Cygnus' vocals clattering around like pronouncements from some funked-out robot overlord atop hissing-piston drums. Then there's the enticingly-titled 'CPU Records'. 'CPU Records' delivers all the crisp electro snap we've come to expect from a record emblazoned with that signature black-and-white artwork, yet this thing is also widescreen and cinematic in ways that demonstrate the maturation of the Cygnus sound. With a wicked vocoder vocal that celebrates the label's many achievements, 'CPU Records' is a victory lap tune if ever we've heard one.

Central Processing Unit keep it 100 on for this new EP. '100% Dope' by Cygnus is CPU's 100th catalogue number, and the Texan producer delivers on the promise of the record's title with a collection of brilliantly unique electro joints.

High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before. Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me. It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before. Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me. It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

High Vis were formed in 2016 from the ashes of some of the UK's best hardcore bands. Gild-toothed frontman Graham Sayle's anguished lyrics about life in working class Britain were familiar to fans of Tremors' full-throttle thrash, but alongside his former bandmate Edward `Ski' Harper and veterans of Dirty Money, DiE and The Smear, High Vis sought to transform that energy and intensity into something entirely new.Like scene-mates Chubby and the Gang did by pulling in unlikely source material from classic doo-wop or Micromoon have by combining everything from psychedelia and metal into their high potency mix, High Vis' 2019 debut album, No Sense No Feeling showed the band were never going to be constrained by any sense of genre rules or regulations. Its claustrophobic rattle bore traces of Joy Division, Bauhaus, Crisis, The Cure and Gang Of Four lurking in the shadows. 2020's synth-driven EP, Society Exists, was further evidence of the band's restless creative MO.High Vis' second album Blending sees them open their viewfinder wider than ever before. Alongside longstanding favourites such as Fugazi and Echo and The Bunnymen; Ride and even Flock Of Seagulls were shared reference points as the band worked on the album together.From the anthemic sweep of opener "Talk For Hours", through the title track's psychedelic swirl and "Fever Dream"'s baggy groove, it sees High Vis' sound blossoming into something with an unlimited richness. The hazy drift of "Shame" or the melodic jangle of "Trauma Bonds" may take them until uncharted waters, but they still have all the power and bite that made No Sense No Feeling so remarkable.Lyrically, the album represents another leap forward too. Talking frankly about poverty, class politics, and the challenges of everyday life, Sayle's lyrics have always addressed the downtrodden and discarded communities across Britain slipping below the waterline. This time around, Sayle's lost not of that social consciousness, but he's looked at himself and his own emotional landscape, and in the process created something that feels more universal, that reaches a hand-out to people and ultimately gives a message of hope."To me, the lyrics are less selfish," reflects Sayle. "In the past, I couldn't see past whatever was going on with me. It's about accepting things and being open to conversations and learning to talk to people rather than just thinking that we're all doomed."The song "Talk for Hours" is a prime example of that. Born out of an afternoon meeting up with an old group of mates "repeating the same thing and not actually learning anything about each other" it offers to actually break the cycle and to listen and speak frankly about shared feelings and experiences. "Trauma Bonds", meanwhile, traces the broken lines of those living in lost communities, but ultimately realises that despite our shared scars, there's still hope to move on to a better future."The message of the album is you're not who you're told you are," Sayle summarises. "You're not your class background. Whatever it is, you're not that. Don't resign yourself to thinking you can't be this and you can't be that."It's a vitally important message right now, and one that could be the motto for not only Blending, but for High Vis themselves.

Following up his anthemic late-summer burner, Hope, Credit 00 returns to Pinkman to deliver the album Midnightlife Crisis. Hopping between genres whilst remaining resolutely coherent, the twelve-track double LP is a showcase of the Rat Life boss' many influences. From the driving, mesmeric techno of Music Is A Spiritual Thing to the sci-fi electro on Bouncing Bell and Love Warrior's downtempo, half-time shuffle, the collection of tracks is broad and varied yet simultaneously unified by belonging to the club. Whether it's warm-up material, peaktime rollers or afterhours sludge for tired legs and scrambled heads, there's something for every scenario on Midnightlife Crisis. And with recurring themes of melancholy and anxiety throughout, the album perhaps reflects that all too familiar period for every club enthusiast when the years are ticking by and the lights are coming on. "I just hope there's hope", sings the voice on the album's lead single, before reminding us that the dancefloor's sweet release is often the best remedy to these negative thoughts - "I see you shaking on the floor, that gives me hope, gives me hope."

On Side A, smile your way through two songs by The Teacher Haters — in fact, we challenge you to get through these tracks without smiling. Even the name of the band invokes a chuckle as it suggests what these guys are about — and that’s the P-A-R-T-Y. Straight out of the 60s comes a group that could have been played with Sam The Sham & The Pharaohs back in the day. These whimsical works are deceptively deep as they take us to a time when garage punk fused with R&B.

Big Pig Alley is uncomplicated, and that’s what makes it great — it sounds like a bunch of college guys having a good time, writing lyrics on the spot: “If you’re lookin’ for romance, take a train, take a plane...or a raft to France.” The guys have something other than romance on their minds as they chug along on acoustic guitar and trash can drums (and possibly other things). What really makes the track, though, is the witchy background voice — the performance is loose enough, while the witch is doing his own thing entirely.

The witch returns on the second track on Side 1 in the up-tempo, dance-ready Cut Loose. No obscure artistry here — these guys tell you exactly what the song is for in the title. In fact, just in case you missed it, they state their thesis in the opening lines: “I wanna shake all night, I wanna do it right, I wanna dance, dance, dance with you…” All of their collegiate effort is put toward getting you to move your hips in this groovy, rockabilly-flavored mix.

Let's talk about Side B...

We Got A Thing is up first — a crossover soul dancer that invites you to sing along with an infectious, call-and-response chorus. It pairs nicely with The Teacher Haters as fun, simple party music from the 60s — though this time from a female perspective.

Things go deeper with Guys Today. As the name suggests, the content is about the enduring tension between the sexes and the heartbreak it can lead to. It’s a deep soul beat ballad in the vein of Betty Wright or Helene Smith. A grand opening is followed by a clear, crisp female vocal that brings the singer’s lament into focus. The band is tight, and it all comes together to portray a woman who has made up her mind and is offering a warning about guys today: I know you love your man, but I know they will hurt you in every way they can.

At first glance, these artists seem to share only a few things in common — party-themed music conceived in the 60s with an R&B flavor. But between sides A and B, it feels like these groups are talking to each other — perhaps different perspectives of the same party. Perhaps the party itself and then the fallout. The result is a balanced EP release that feels whole and satisfying. We hope you feel the same as we proudly present these found recordings as an exclusive 12” on 180 gram vinyl. Please enjoy.

Svart Records are proud to present the vinyl debut of the album '8 Convulsions' (1994) by Crisis (NYC, USA) "I am really glad that Svart are re-releasing 8 Convulsions, so more people can rediscover this wonderful and intriguing heavy music." Michel 'Away' Langevin, Voivod Remastered and repackaged with the vinyl format in mind, the package comes with a large booklet full of lyrics and exclusive photos. This is the first time an album from the NYC cult band's oeuvre is pressed on vinyl. There will also be a CD edition of the remaster. Hailing from the mean streets of NYC in the year 1993, Crisis was a band that defied classification from the very start. During a time when heavy music was dominated by a mostly male presence, founders Afzaal Deen and original drummer Fred Waring envisioned a female-fronted band to run against the grain and destroy expectations. Seeking out a singer with a singular sound and presence, and found their match in groundbreaking vocalist and avant-visual artist Karyn Crisis. Soon after, a newspaper ad for a bass player was answered by Gia Chuan Wang and the original unit was formed. During their first rehearsal, Karyn became so enmeshed and driven by the music that she inadvertently destroyed a microphone stand and threw herself to the floor in an outpouring of unmitigated expression. This was barely a hint at the intensity she would soon bring to the stage and studio. Karyn’s guttural growls and angelic melodic notes meshed perfectly with the mixture of grinding guitar, pounding rhythm and deep bass tones. The underground music scene would now begin to experience the dynamic intensity of this burgeoning powerhouse band in full force. Crisis signed to Too Damn Hype records and released their debut album '8 Convulsions', now being reissued to mark its 30th anniversary. In a time where inclusivity is more crucial than ever, Crisis remains a band as diverse and distinct as the city from which they originally hailed. “The United Nations of Rock” as they’ve been called, continue to break boundaries and crush antiquated archetypes with their unprecedented sound and vision. "One of the most captivating bands I’ve ever experienced in New York City in the early 90s. They had a very unique sound where you couldn’t categorize them though they had elements of metal, punk with a very dark experimental approach, which gave them their unique sound. Just raw and relentless energy." Roy Mayorga, Ministry/Soulfly/Nausea etc 8 Convulsions is available on Svart exclusive blue/red marble vinyl, limited transparent yellow vinyl, classic black vinyl, and CD. Release date October 20th.

Svart Records are proud to present the vinyl debut of the album '8 Convulsions' (1994) by Crisis (NYC, USA) "I am really glad that Svart are re-releasing 8 Convulsions, so more people can rediscover this wonderful and intriguing heavy music." Michel 'Away' Langevin, Voivod Remastered and repackaged with the vinyl format in mind, the package comes with a large booklet full of lyrics and exclusive photos. This is the first time an album from the NYC cult band's oeuvre is pressed on vinyl. There will also be a CD edition of the remaster. Hailing from the mean streets of NYC in the year 1993, Crisis was a band that defied classification from the very start. During a time when heavy music was dominated by a mostly male presence, founders Afzaal Deen and original drummer Fred Waring envisioned a female-fronted band to run against the grain and destroy expectations. Seeking out a singer with a singular sound and presence, and found their match in groundbreaking vocalist and avant-visual artist Karyn Crisis. Soon after, a newspaper ad for a bass player was answered by Gia Chuan Wang and the original unit was formed. During their first rehearsal, Karyn became so enmeshed and driven by the music that she inadvertently destroyed a microphone stand and threw herself to the floor in an outpouring of unmitigated expression. This was barely a hint at the intensity she would soon bring to the stage and studio. Karyn’s guttural growls and angelic melodic notes meshed perfectly with the mixture of grinding guitar, pounding rhythm and deep bass tones. The underground music scene would now begin to experience the dynamic intensity of this burgeoning powerhouse band in full force. Crisis signed to Too Damn Hype records and released their debut album '8 Convulsions', now being reissued to mark its 30th anniversary. In a time where inclusivity is more crucial than ever, Crisis remains a band as diverse and distinct as the city from which they originally hailed. “The United Nations of Rock” as they’ve been called, continue to break boundaries and crush antiquated archetypes with their unprecedented sound and vision. "One of the most captivating bands I’ve ever experienced in New York City in the early 90s. They had a very unique sound where you couldn’t categorize them though they had elements of metal, punk with a very dark experimental approach, which gave them their unique sound. Just raw and relentless energy." Roy Mayorga, Ministry/Soulfly/Nausea etc 8 Convulsions is available on Svart exclusive blue/red marble vinyl, limited transparent yellow vinyl, classic black vinyl, and CD. Release date October 20th.

Flora Yin Wong’s ravishing interiority finds lucid expression on an absorbing second album for Modern Love, manifesting her instrumental storytelling in a syncretic bind of supernatural themes with hyperrealist, concrète sound design.

Through ten parts, Flora crystallises the ennui that followed an uncanny, disorienting trip to East and Southeast Asia. “On an unexpected stopover in Hong Kong after five years away, my friends took me to a Bazi reader one night - something I was curious about, but much of a ritual for them - ” Flora recalls. “My father told me that when I was born, he had obtained an auspicious reading that since stayed like a guiding talisman with me. It was almost past midnight but people were still lined up, rather shaken and visibly upset, to see the old man. He had kind eyes and asked me why I was there and I said I was at a crossroads. He asked me my time and date of birth, and told me to pick one of his four little white canary birds as a vessel for divination.”

This was the final stretch of an ultimately aimless few months across the continent, including a 20 year overdue return with her father to his adoptive family in his hometown Kuala Lumpur - for many reasons, ended up as a strange and uncanny trip. She spent solitude in a haunted house during the quiet snowfall of Kyoto, where she might have offended some spirit... and nights in mountain temples with South Korean monks, and an equally strange feeling return to the Island of the Gods.

“It culminated in what felt like a final disillusionment with Asia - sudden deaths and a breakdown in beliefs - somewhere I never really have or will be able to connect with. The process of the reading summoned a final blow to my gut - an overwhelming sense of rootlessness, and understanding that all there is is emptiness and entropy. No birth-divined protection, just a measurement of the night sky based off nothing and everything.”

Heavy with a sense of nightmarish dissociation and grief, Flora read about Giuseppe Tartini’s ‘Violin Sonata in G Minor’, aka the Devil’s Trill Sonata, a notoriously tricky c.18th composition which attempted to transcribe music heard in a dream, which the composer felt he could never fully bring into reality. It’s this soporific motif that binds and underpins ’Cold Reading’, finding Flora chasing the dragon of fleeting fantasy through passages of etched melancholy, pinched with hypnagogic jerks that linger in the memory.

From her use of the ‘Devil’s Trill’ Sonata in ‘All My Dreams are Nightmares’ through evocations of subtropical humidity in the Bryn Jones-esque, resonant hand-played percussion of ‘Konna’ and ‘Banjar’, to a breathtaking dreampop denouement ‘Nectar Dripping’ and the Enya-like lush of ‘Beautiful Crisis’, Flora blooms her ideas with an openended ambiguity so often missing from so called Ambient music, ushering the listener into a soundworld that disturbs and displaces, just as much as it calms.

This live concert was recorded during Supertramp's "Crime Of The Century" tour in London's Hammersmith Odeon, on March 9, 1975. It's featuring the entire "Crime of the Century" album and also some tracks from the then still-to-be-recorded "Crisis? What Crisis?" album.

This live concert was recorded during Supertramp's "Crime Of The Century" tour in London's Hammersmith Odeon, on March 9, 1975. It's featuring the entire "Crime of the Century" album and also some tracks from the then still-to-be-recorded "Crisis? What Crisis?" album.