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Restlessly awakening from the depths of a feverish slumber, doomed heavy metal masters KHEMMIS return to reveal their fourth full length studio album, DECEIVER, arriving via Nuclear Blast Records in November 2021. Six tracks of desolate, soul-awakening heaviness encapsulate a project that has been nearly three years in the making. With a title that reflects the internal struggles that many of us battle in our daily lives, DECEIVER is a ferociously honest and appetizingly raw piece of musical artistry.
The first single LIVING PYRE signifies far more than just the beginning of another musical endeavour for the band; it is a substantial benchmark for emotional struggle and growth. “When it comes to my own mental health, when I’m in a bad place, I can’t access the part of me that creates art. After reaching that understanding of myself, the bulk of this song came out in one sitting. I was feeling stable. I was feeling hopeful–even though so much outside in the world was not exactly inspiring. All of us needed a reason to feel a glimmer of hope,” recounts Hutcherson. With a big, quintessentially KHEMMIS chorus embellished by a swampy sorrow, this song incorporates familiar elements of the band’s sound with a touch of Swedish death metal in its latter half. “The reason that this was the song that came first lyrically was because I was juggling all the things that were happening with the inside and outside world intersecting. All the lyrics for me feel very ‘of the time.’ So much was happening in this world, and they were just my efforts to contend with it,” explains Pendergast. “Like Ben, this was a breakthrough moment for me. Once I got the song out, it allowed me to write other songs for the album. It’s less about the fire metaphor implied by the title than about the fact that in order to escape fire you have to find water. You find the deepest, darkest cavern…you just want to stay there forever. It slowly fills up and you eventually drown.”
HOUSE OF CADMUS was another deeply collaborative writing effort between all three members of KHEMMIS. “I thought the opening riff had this cool almost-swing to it...but evil,” recalls drummer Zach Coleman. “I was drawn to the atmosphere of that first riff, and it felt like it needed to be a song that was dark the whole way through. Ben and I discussed getting some New Orleans-style sounds somewhere on the album, and I think this is where we were able to sneak some in to tie together other aspects of the song.”
“I knew that I wanted the lead guitar line in the second half of the song to tie two very different parts together,” explains Hutcherson, “but the idea was all really abstract until we were in a room together. It wasn't until we jammed out that big funeral/death doom bridge and the slow, sad coda that we found out what we wanted that lead line to be: memorable and emotive. It was a very honest musical moment together.” The writing and recording processes of HOUSE OF CADMUS were so emotionally driven that even producer Dave Otero of Flatline Audio (Cephalic Carnage, Cattle Decapitation, Act Of Defiance) encountered his own deeply personal and intense connection with the song. “With the lyric turn at the end, I was inspired by Dave’s imagery,” says Pendergast. “This idea of a person leaving some important part of themselves behind as they float away and leave the thing they love on the shore. The sound of this song is like a lighthouse beam cutting through the fog in a dark night on the ocean.”
While the lyrical themes of DECEIVER;sorrow, pain, longing for hope, will no doubt be familiar to longtime fans, these six songs display a broader collection of musical influences than on any other KHEMMIS record to date. “It being our 4th album, especially after the transition between the last two albums, it felt really freeing. We felt that we could really do anything on this record,” explains Coleman. “There’s a lot here that we’ve never done before,” adds Pendergast. “In some areas it gets darkly psychedelic. I think we found a cool way to mutate things using transitions that feel really natural. There is a subtle symmetry between the first and last songs which is one of the things that makes listening to the full album a satisfying holistic experience. It builds from almost nothing, becomes very dark, and then you slowly crawl out of that lowest circle of hell.” KHEMMIS’s DECEIVER is a beautiful, musically ambitious journey from beginning to end drenched in impassioned melody and complex, unrestrained variations of sonic savagery adorned with chilling, intensely tragic cover art by frequent collaborator Sam Turner.

We used to enjoy presenting Chapelier Fou's work using the idea of music in the form of a treasure hunt. However, while the phrase in itself it still just as relevant today, we would never have imagined that it would become such an integral part of one of his albums. Or two of his albums to be perfectly exact - Méridiens and Parallèles. Two records with twelve songs each which answer each other back in the form of anagrams. They are like the two sides of the same planet - similar but simultaneously so different. They need to be discovered one after the other taking the time necessary to travel through the sound territories produced by his imagination. The starting point is a sombre night in Uqbar… Chapelier Fou's opening reference to Borgès was obviously not made by chance. He subsequently confided in us the objective of his diptych, namely to combine reality with fiction to question certainties and our relationships with the imaginary sphere. He has continued with his traditional classical-contemporary electronic approach which, although now known to a wide audience, has the advantage of opening up a whole range of possibilities right up to the infinite scale. Moving away from an "État Nain" (Dwarf State) to take refuge on an asteroid...Throughout Méridiens, each composition can be seen as a universe in itself or a specific landscape with its own temporality. Proof of this is the introduction to the chamber music format composed for and performed by only strings which can only be given the date we want to give it. This is "État Nain" in which violins are played like guitars. In some parts we find the spirit of the Penguin Cafe Orchestra and the idea of cheering up classical instruments and not taking everything too seriously. In other parts, we find something close to a mischievous and childish unplugged grunge anthem that could be from the French series Les Shadoks. This mischievous view of things is shown to full effect in Am Scharchtensee. The introduction shows Chapelier Fou's whole classical universe and mastery of orchestration in which "modular" electronics provide a subtle and discreet backdrop. Then, the record suddenly switches to a surrealist dialogue between these classical sounds and modular synthesizers with the flavour of the German pioneers Kluster/Harmonia to name but one example. Timelessness and imaginary places. La vie de cocagne confirms this choice of total freedom. It's traditional music with old sounds, a kind of forgotten bourrée (old French dance) in which electronic sounds disturb the established order and thus reach another musical dimension. Le méridien du Péricarde followed by Désert de Sonora push this idea of a trompe l'oreille and a hall of mirrors even further. The latter track ends almost like a catchy 80s melody and we can no longer find any logical meaning. We let ourselves be carried away by this profusion of madness and are a little amazed by this mastery of sound, composition and space. It sometimes all seems like a succession of conjuring tricks. Chapelier Fou takes not being serious very seriously indeed. The end song Everest trail is the perfect conclusion, a deadpan track in which the primary aspect of a totally classical melody in all its straightness is underpinned by a permanent exchange of electronic tweets which mocks the main musical posture. This impertinence harks back to Pierre Schaeffer who directed the ORTF's very serious experimental department in another era and allowed the development of Jacques Rouxel's series Les Shadoks thus introducing the general public to the notion of concrete music. This is also perhaps why Louis Warynski's stage name is French – because he has opted to use his French musical heritage. Thus the first singles selected from this album, Constantinople with its groovy and jazzy allure and Le Triangle des Bermudes evoke composers like Michel Magne or Michel Colombier both of whom have totally open minds and consider all music to have the same importance, namely that of sound. In absolutely all the tracks that make up Méridiens, you will find at least one detail - a pattern, melody, sometimes a simple sound - that will draw you back to explore it a little more. And the words are carefully weighed for sure. It's quite simple. This is undoubtedly his most hypnotizing and catchy album. Chapelier Fou has become a complete master of his own universe. He draws the start and finish lines himself and no one can follow him in a field that now belongs to him alone. Composed imaginary spheres, illustrated territories...Music is just as meaningful as the more visual arts. Therefore the artwork of Méridiens had to project each of the twelve tracks considered individually and not just the whole album as such. Chapelier Fou therefore asked his old friend the contemporary artist Corentin Grossman to create twelve windows to represent glimpses of the twelve worlds composed for the record. Windows or mirrors when it comes to that? You can never be sure of anything...Space OK. But what about time? The years go by and sometimes we forget that fact. But a simple glance back is often enough to gently touch the time that has passed. It is over 10 years since his first official record and he has been composing, recording and sharing his music for almost 20 years. 20 years is a long time. It makes some people look old while others fall into reassuring but sterile nostalgia. Chapelier Fou, on the other hand, has released his most ambitious project and tried to take a higher view of his discography that was itself nevertheless irreproachable. Although the journey is over we can see Parallèles universes on the horizon. Chapelier Fou has announced 12 additional tracks which are like echoes of the compositions on Méridiens' and will be released on the album Parallèles next spring. They are neither twins nor opposites – they are instead totally original new compositions which go further in exploring a universe which is already richly abundant.

ALTER- : A REACTION TO THE ALTERMODERNISM IN SOUND ART
For the Automatisme - Alter- album. I am inspired by how the art historian Nicolas Bourriaud defines the Altermodernism. Bourriaud understands the term "Alter" as a way to mean "other". The altermodernism would be another modernity that is different from the avant-garde modernism and post-modernism. More precisely, this is a new paradigm from the XXIe century with alternative ways to motivate artists to be more radical in art by traveling in the physical and digital world, by cutting the frontiers and by creating other time lines. I apply the "alter" subject to time and to landscape and those, to the rhythmic and the ambient glitch music.

1- THE ALBUM HAS A RHYTHMIC SIDE AND A LANDSCAPE SIDE.
1- a : The rhythmic tracks are named Alter-Rate. That means that I offer other types of rhythms by calculating beats with time rate experimentations. The form of the rhytmic tracks, expresses a course, a wandering, which, in the altermodern life, is not just in a standard 4/4 , or just grid based or non-grid based, but it's in a complex hybrid of all of those.

1- b : The ambient tracks are named Alter-Scape. That means that I offer another type of landScapes by a paused temporality and not by a random time or by the time of the nature. Alter-Scape tracks mimic the saturated globalized soundscapes of the XXIe century.

2- THE GLOBALISED AND SATURATED TIME
For Bourriaud, the artists respond to a new globalised perception. They traverse a cultural landscape saturated with signs and create new pathways between multiple formats of expressions and communications1. The Alter- album tracks have saturated rhythms Rates and static ambient soundScapes. The specific context within which we live is the age of globalisation2. In this album, it means that globalised or always evolving rhythm Rates are in constant movements and are also different every time an Alter-Rate track is exported or performed. On the other hand, a globalised landScape is an ambient track with a motionless temporality. In the era of the altermodern, displacement has become a method of depiction3. The movement of the sound in the Alter- album is two sound spaces. The first is the rhythms that make time movement become apparent and the second is an ambient paused or static time that makes possible to feel and to analyze the movement effect of our surroundings.

3- THE CONSTANT TENSION STATE OF ART
For Gilles Deleuze, art is in a constant state of tension, in as much as it oscillates between the poles of chaos and order4. The Alter- album is a tension between chaos and order in rhythmic beat tracks and ambient soundscapes tracks. It is a deterritorialization of the rhythms and the ambiences of today's natural and digital landscapes and it brings them into the computer glitch music format.

By pushing new softwares to their limits, I push at the extreme the software capacity to calculate and to generate sounds. The Alter-Rate tracks are experimentations with time rates and rhythms with the use of probability and artificial intelligence based sequencers. The partition signal starts from a master sequencer that gets into all instruments on a track. Each instrument receives this signal and modulates it with other sequencers that are each programmed differently for every instrument. Finally, all the instruments signals return to a master output that contains a stutter effect. This master channel is sequencing all other channels into one single rhythm. In short, a single rate merges and expands into a vast archipelago of rates and the transformed signal becomes a new single rate. The Alter-Scape tracks are experimentations with midi triggers that give the sensation of a timelessness. Multiple reverb effects are also routed into each other to create soundscapes of continuity. About the type of sounds created in this album, I do experimentations with deep frequency modulation synthesises (FM) on all Alter-Rate and Alter-Scape tracks.

I put a few layers in the tracks to be able to focus on the time space and perception. The tracks are generative and every parameter uses probabilities to be programmed. This is something that was not possible some years ago. The computers are enough powerful to generate that now. I export many times the tracks and i push the computers to their limits by making hard for them to calculate and to generate the tracks with a deep, a pointillist and an extreme software programming. These techniques do different versions every time that I export or perform a track and in my opinion, that opens a fresh and innovative way to do new experimental club music and ambient music. The computer has its own limits too.


Reviews in The Wire, Gonzo, A Closer Listen, Datacide, African Paper, Silent and Sound, and more

« Half of Tiger & Woods on a brillant release for SKYLAX RECORDS » If you ever wondered what it might be like to have a 707 or a Sampler instead of a pacemaker, you could always ask Valerio del Prete aka Delphi, who has been setting dancefloors around the world on fire for years. Delphi has displayed his mastery of acidized arpeggios and deep electronic tropes via an EP on Pigna, before linking up with Roman techno don dada Marco Passarani as the discotech duo Tiger & Woods. Several EPs and two albums of stripped back disco on Editainment and Running Back encapsulate their winning approach – reimagined loops from heady discotheques mixed through the axis of Rome, Chicago and Detroit. In 2016 he released the house/Italo/EBM stomper Blue Tuesday on a split 12” on Tiger & Woods own label T&W Records. For this new release, the brilliant producer (half of tiger & woods we repeat) kicks off the show with the very Italo-discoïde "donuts for dinner", nourished throughout by a monstrous kick and soaring synths. He poses as a worthy heir to the Italian masters of 80s pop who often used the B-side of their songs to experiment with their most adventurous ideas. Zequenz immediately made us think of an imaginary orgy between Ron Hardy and the members of Kraftwerk, this sound is incredibly sharp and would not have denoted on the decks of the legendary DJ. Which leads us straight to the most brawling track on the EP, the aptly named "Ron's lesson" and it is indeed a lesson. This crazy track (obviously dedicated to the legendary chicago DJ) seems to have come straight out of an imaginary session, we must remember how much at that time naivety and therefore distortion (!) Reigned over productions, giving an incredibly raw and edgy side on the dancefloor. Again, this song could have been released 30 years ago. And finally, to come full circle, the very graceful overheat joins the aesthetic of the first track in an elegant and dreamy way. Note that on the label's bandcamp, with the purchase of the vinyl, you can get 3 exclusive bonus tracks (Clutch play, Runinng in place, Sucker). The magic is here, CLEARLY.

Enterprising composer and musician Eddie Suzuki made his own path throughout his lifetime. Born on October 4, 1929, Suzuki worked as a young shoeshiner in 1940s Honolulu, saving enough money to take piano lessons. In high school, he lead a big band orchestra of 16, and sometimes up to 40 members. By the age of 18, he owned a piano shop that pivoted to become Honolulu’s top guitar store.

For Eddie Suzuki, music always came first. In 1973, after performing and composing songs for many years, Eddie Suzuki and his group, New Hawaii, recorded the now impossibly rare album, High Tide.

The LP is “not a rock-out”, local music journalist Wayne Harada ruminated in a 1973 review. “Rather, it’s one man’s vision — and version — of the now Hawaii.” A seasoned mix of psych, Hawaiian, and pop sensibilities, the music on High Tide gave the listener a look into Eddie’s singular vision celebrating the sights and sounds (and spirit) of Hawaii.

Eddie Suzuki’s New Hawaii:
Laurence Harada, guitar
John Schulmeister, bass
Gary Fittro, drums
Nani Kuaiwa, vocals
Eddie Suzuki, vocals, Hammond organ, Arp synthesizer.

"A beautiful album celebrating Hawaii’s warmth and spirit. The personal story here is that I reached out for a license just 1 week too late — Eddie Suzuki had died the week prior to my initial phone call. It took a couple years until I was able to connect with his son and get his permission to reissue Eddie's music." – Roger Bong, Aloha Got Soul

LIMITED CLEAR VINYL

LA based composer/sound designer duoHeliochrysumannounce the release of their visceral, deep and exploratory debut albumWe Become Mist.The album has beenmixed by Ben Frost and mastered by Valgeir Sigurdsson.

Heliochrysumis the world building meeting of Michael Deragon and Daniel Lea
( L A N D, Important Records), in which a collaboration becomes a sculpted journey into new aural and imaginative cosmology.We Become Mistuses analogue and digital processes to mine the depths of industrial and science fictional, psychedelic soundscapes, often cinematic in tone and texture.


Taking their cue from a shared palette of sounds, textures and rhythms,Heliochrysumcreate a unifying score that is at once improvisatory and sonically certain.We Become Mist is nothing short of the progression from a souterrain awakening to the terraformed sound of a new world coming into existence.

These tracks overlay analog sound sources, digital hard wrought processing and visual sound design, constantly morphing and turning on their own searching torque. Mixed by Ben Frost and mastered by Valgeir Sigurdsson, the accumulation of sheer vision and depth is transportative, if not outright mind wrenching. In between this melding of the analogue and digital was mixed another element: the album istinged with psilocybin technology. As a listener you can hear as you move through a psychedelic passage, like out of a state of lockdown into one of alien otherworldliness.

The piano, industrial crescendo of ˜We Remain Beneath is evidence of this, sounds modified into careful, lush arrangements. A Future Unfolds sounds like a burnished unfurling, a resplendent distortion bringing to mind some epic revelation while tracks such as ˜Infinite Dark or ˜Pre Dawn bristle with chrome pulses that burn with alarm and dulcet drama.

Just as they did with their palette of sounds,Heliochrysumtaps into a wide range of emotions from hope to devastation, growth and contagion.

The name Heliochrysum evokes the Latin for sunflower but also a healing tincture: in the overlaid orchestration and distorted lightness, the roiling, life-giving pour of the sun can be heard. Simplicity washed with emotional intensity, the remembered dreams of far-off, science-fictive discoveries.

Over the course of the decade, Meatbodies’ Chad Ubovich has been
a perennial candidate for MVP of West Coast’s fertile rock scene. The
LA native could be seen peeling off guitar solos in Mikal Cronin’s
backing band, supplying the Sabbath-sized low end for Ty Segall and
Charlie Moothart as the bassist for Fuzz, and, of course, fronting his
own Meatbodies. Today the recently dormant experimental noise /
freak-rock outfit has announced their return with 333—a corrosive
stew of guitar scuzz, raw acoustic rave-ups, and primitive
electronics that charts Ubovich’s journey from drug-induced darkness
to clear-eyed sobriety. 333 simultaneously reflects on how the world
he re-entered was still pretty messed up—if not more so. “These lyrics
are dark, but I think these are things that a lot of people are feeling
and going through” he says. “Here in America, we’re watching the
fall of U.S. capitalism, and 333 is a cartoonish representation of that
decline.”
In mid to late 2019, the band—Ubovich and drummer Dylan
Fujioka—had a new album in the can, ready to be mixed. But
when COVID hit, like so many other artists, they put their release
on hold as they rode out the pandemic’s first wave. During that idle
time, Ubovich discovered a cache of demos that he and Fujioka had
recorded in a bedroom back in the summer of 2018, and he really liked
what he heard. In contrast to Meatbodies’ typical full-band attack, it
was deliriously disordered. “It sounded gross, like a scary Magical
Mystery Tour,” he recalls proudly. After subjecting them to some
mixing-board freakery, Ubovich fast-tracked the songs into becoming
this third release of theirs, 333. It proves Meatbodies have greatly
expanded their palette, opening new portals to explore. And for an
album that wasn’t supposed to exist, 333 is the ultimate testament to
Meatbodies’ renewed vitality.

By way of some cosmic miracle, only one Total Hell pops up
when the band moniker is searched on Discogs. And that would
be the band responsible for the five-song blast of heavy metal
sounds at hand. Now active for about two years plus change
and exported from the very metal and punk fertile New Orleans,
Total Hell is DD Deth (aka Drew Owen—Sick Thoughts
wheelman, Trampoline Team etc) on drums / vocals, Henry
Hell (John Henry of Static Static, Heavy Lids) on bass / vocals,
and guitarists Jason “Panzer” Craft (Persuaders, Tirefire) and
Michael Maniac (Michael He-man of Trampoline Team).
If self-deprecation is beyond the listener’s processing skills,
then please know that as self-described purveyors of the “New
Wave of Shitty Heavy Metal”, Total Hell’s big-boy debut is
not “shitty” in any manner whatsoever. These four recordings
(“Desecrate”, “Clones From Hell”, “Violator”, and “Disfigured”)
are melodic monstrosities that hit with a wall-to-wall, floorto-
ceiling hugeness, while doing so in an economical manner.
There will be no mistaking this for Broken Bones screeching out
of an iPhone inside the vegan squat. On the flip, this is no Bob
Rock joint. DD Deth elaborates: “Recorded on a Tascam 8-track
cassette live at home (aka “The Parkway”) by Michael He-Man
and the process was a nightmare. Original tape crapped out on us
back in early 2020 so we had to redo the whole thing. Intros and
interludes were done last minute by me with the cheapest midi
keyboard on the net.” Well, color Goner Records impressed.
One might get momentarily lost in the cavernous drums that
introduce opener “Desecrate”, but soon the buzzsaw-riff-wall
will crush one into a smudge on the bathroom floor. Without
rocking some safety goggles and diving headfirst down a
terminology rabbithole, this is punk jumping into the sack
with metal and leaving black boots on the bedroom floor rather
than white hightops. Xmas came early for fans of Anti-Cimex,
Celtic Frost, pre-shit Discharge, Motörhead, Blitz, Midnight,
Venom, Broken Bones and...one gets the picture.

SPICE singer Ross Farrar speaks of the band’s ambition to forge a sort of aesthetic patois: a mode of expression as strikingly regional as it is recognizable. Last year’s self-titled debut, released in the depths of the pandemic, fully achieved this goal, distilling decades of North Bay punk and post-hardcore into an urgent, artful set of emotive unrest. Their latest single, A Better Treatment b/w Everyone Gets In, further refines the group’s singular mix of weathered melody and abrasive poetics, equal parts bracing, bruised, and cryptic.

“A Better Treatment” began as a song about a friend who died but through the turmoil of collaboration transformed into something more macroscopic and opaque, blurring the boundary between hopeful and defeated (“I thought loving someone would cure my self-hatred”). Bass and drums build against walls of guitar while the violin threads its own melancholy within the noise; Farrar is blunt about the intention: “The violin is an instrument of death you know.”



“Everyone Gets In” is both poppier and more pained, an anthem for angst aging into the reverie of regret: “We lose our strength / along the way / we lose each other / the funeral sways.” The tempo sways too, gradually slowing to an anxious crawl before finally revving back into a storm of shimmering guitar and splashing drums, fighting against the dying of the light. It’s music of raw truths and
rejected pedestals, storied but unswerving, a revolt against the great regress: “and my / my time is spent / adoring seasons / that I / I never should’ve.”

SPICE singer Ross Farrar speaks of the band’s ambition to forge a sort of aesthetic patois: a mode of expression as strikingly regional as it is recognizable. Last year’s self-titled debut, released in the depths of the pandemic, fully achieved this goal, distilling decades of North Bay punk and post-hardcore into an urgent, artful set of emotive unrest. Their latest single, A Better Treatment b/w Everyone Gets In, further refines the group’s singular mix of weathered melody and abrasive poetics, equal parts bracing, bruised, and cryptic.

“A Better Treatment” began as a song about a friend who died but through the turmoil of collaboration transformed into something more macroscopic and opaque, blurring the boundary between hopeful and defeated (“I thought loving someone would cure my self-hatred”). Bass and drums build against walls of guitar while the violin threads its own melancholy within the noise; Farrar is blunt about the intention: “The violin is an instrument of death you know.”



“Everyone Gets In” is both poppier and more pained, an anthem for angst aging into the reverie of regret: “We lose our strength / along the way / we lose each other / the funeral sways.” The tempo sways too, gradually slowing to an anxious crawl before finally revving back into a storm of shimmering guitar and splashing drums, fighting against the dying of the light. It’s music of raw truths and
rejected pedestals, storied but unswerving, a revolt against the great regress: “and my / my time is spent / adoring seasons / that I / I never should’ve.”

Have we ever needed great storytellers so badly? Voices to snap us out of our collective grey funk, to pull us out of our narrow, hemmed-in worlds and to lighten our days and enlighten us with their perspectives, Immersing us in their worldview and history. People who can make us laugh, cry, gasp or nod sagely, to see our world anew and not feel so alone. We need stories, vignettes, new windows to look out of, and narrators to help those new visions make sense.

In short, we need Scott Lavene. Born and raised in Essex, but a man of the world who has wandered far and wide, Lavene’s a storyteller who can capture all the madness, joy and frustration of life while singing about worms writhing in the ground. Lavene’s been in bands since his teens, but only really located the voice that makes his new album Milk City Sweethearts so remarkable – that combination of wry observation, humble wisdom, unguarded vulnerability and unpredictable humour – in a music workshop for alcoholics and addicts, long after he’d bid farewell to childhood dreams of pop stardom, and the ghosts and demons that accompany those dreams.

He released an album as Big Top Heartbreak, 2016’s Deadbeat Ballads, and followed it with his first album under his own name, 2019’s droll and marvellous Broke. “I was signed to a little label in Bristol, but then they went skint,” he remembers. This time, however, the disappointment didn’t shake his confidence or his resolve. “I started writing prose, like ‘flash fiction’, and I’ve begun a novel,” he says. “And I’ve started some creative writing workshops for people who’ve come out of my situation.”

Amid all this activity, the songs that became Milk City Sweethearts began to take shape. Lavene noticed the border between his prose and his songwriting beginning to become porous, and the album feels like a clutch of excellent short stories set to music. Without a label, he recorded the album at home, and assembled it in a week in his mum’s garage during lockdown’s heavy manners. It’s a warm, witty, charismatic record with a dark heart at the centre, Lavene sounding dislocated and therefore able to write his everyday stories with a left-handed brilliance and blunt honesty that keeps them so fresh, like classic Kinks, or David Bowie if he’d never had to go to space to feel otherworldly. His songs are talking blues, set to loose and minimal and excellent art-rock with a pop sensibility, the honk of Roxy sax and the guttural weird-funk of Ian Dury’s Blockheads haunting their grooves.

Have we ever needed great storytellers so badly? Voices to snap us out of our collective grey funk, to pull us out of our narrow, hemmed-in worlds and to lighten our days and enlighten us with their perspectives, Immersing us in their worldview and history. People who can make us laugh, cry, gasp or nod sagely, to see our world anew and not feel so alone. We need stories, vignettes, new windows to look out of, and narrators to help those new visions make sense.

In short, we need Scott Lavene. Born and raised in Essex, but a man of the world who has wandered far and wide, Lavene’s a storyteller who can capture all the madness, joy and frustration of life while singing about worms writhing in the ground. Lavene’s been in bands since his teens, but only really located the voice that makes his new album Milk City Sweethearts so remarkable – that combination of wry observation, humble wisdom, unguarded vulnerability and unpredictable humour – in a music workshop for alcoholics and addicts, long after he’d bid farewell to childhood dreams of pop stardom, and the ghosts and demons that accompany those dreams.

He released an album as Big Top Heartbreak, 2016’s Deadbeat Ballads, and followed it with his first album under his own name, 2019’s droll and marvellous Broke. “I was signed to a little label in Bristol, but then they went skint,” he remembers. This time, however, the disappointment didn’t shake his confidence or his resolve. “I started writing prose, like ‘flash fiction’, and I’ve begun a novel,” he says. “And I’ve started some creative writing workshops for people who’ve come out of my situation.”

Amid all this activity, the songs that became Milk City Sweethearts began to take shape. Lavene noticed the border between his prose and his songwriting beginning to become porous, and the album feels like a clutch of excellent short stories set to music. Without a label, he recorded the album at home, and assembled it in a week in his mum’s garage during lockdown’s heavy manners. It’s a warm, witty, charismatic record with a dark heart at the centre, Lavene sounding dislocated and therefore able to write his everyday stories with a left-handed brilliance and blunt honesty that keeps them so fresh, like classic Kinks, or David Bowie if he’d never had to go to space to feel otherworldly. His songs are talking blues, set to loose and minimal and excellent art-rock with a pop sensibility, the honk of Roxy sax and the guttural weird-funk of Ian Dury’s Blockheads haunting their grooves.

Flashes of light rarely burn for long. Bush Tetras exploded into
New York in 1979 and flamed out just a few years later. Yet
somehow this lightning-quick band have risen from their own
ashes again and again for four decades. The spark that ignited
Bush Tetras tapped into a deep grid of power, fuelled by
guitarist Pat Place, singer Cynthia Sley and drummer Dee Pop.
 That chemistry is palpable on ‘Rhythm and Paranoia: The Best
of Bush Tetras’, which features 30 tracks across 2CDs in a 4-
panel digipack / 29 songs across 3LPs pressed onto 180gram
vinyl in a rigid lift-off box with lift ribbon, remastered by Carl
Saff, plus a 40-page (2CD) / 46-page (3LP) book with neverbefore-seen photos, an original essay on the band by Marc
Masters and micro essays by Sonic Youth’s Thurston Moore,
R&B legend Nona Hendryx, The Clash’s Topper Headon and
more.
 From the band’s earliest recordings to their current, vital-asever incarnation, ‘Rhythm and Paranoia’ - for the first time ever
- showcases their unique, influential and body-shaking meld of
rock, punk, funk, reggae and more in one cohesive, immersive
and meticulously constructed box set.
 “Coupled with ‘Too Many Creeps’’ dancey arrangement, Sley’s
monotonous tone signaled that within the Tetras’ newly staked
safe space, misogyny wasn’t a threat: it was just a boring,
predictable damper on the party. Like the rest of their peers, this
band was over it.” - Pitchfork (The History of Feminist Punk in
33 Songs)
 “The Bush Tetras are a national treasure” - VICE
 “Renowned at the dawn of the eighties for pairing the disjoined
guitar skronk of the inaccessible No Wave scene with
irrepressible, funk-infused rhythms, the Bush Tetras were
remarkably influential without ever really receiving their due” -
The New Yorker
 “Bush Tetras bridge the gap between the Ramones and Sonic
Youth.” - NY Post





[e] 5 Cold Turkey [Live in London]










[p] 16 Mr. Lovesong [Alternate Version]













[xd] 30 Run Run Run [Live in San Francisco]

Muscle Shoals singer-songwriter Dylan LeBlanc releases his new EP,
‘Pastimes’, a self-produced collection of covers of songs from Glen
Campbell, Bob Dylan, the Rolling Stones, Led Zeppelin, Buffalo
Springfield and JJ Cale that inspired him to create his own acclaimed altcountry sound.
 ‘Pastimes’ is released on orange coloured vinyl.
 LeBlanc shared his thoughts about his cover of Led Zeppelin’s ‘Going to
California’: “When I was 15 years old I got my first paying gig at a local
coffee shop called Juri’s,” says LeBlanc. “I remembered this girl that sat
behind me in class and I bonded over Led Zeppelin ‘IV’. I remember I
had gotten a Led Zeppelin box set that year for Christmas, and her
favorite song was ‘Going to California’. I rushed home to learn that song
for her and spent hours in my room at my grandmother’s house where I
lived at the time so I could play it for her and impress her. This song will
always hold a special place in my heart. I love this record and this era of
music that I think will always remain untouchable forever and always.”
 Each song was chosen for its deeply personal impact: JJ Cale’s
‘Sensitive Kind’ takes LeBlanc back to the smoky dive bars his father
would bring him along to as a child. Buffalo Springfield’s ‘Expecting to
Fly’ reminds him of teenage joyrides, speeding through the country and
listening to music to escape life’s harsh realities. He learned the art of
storytelling through songs with the Rolling Stones’ haunting ‘Play With
Fire’ and Bob Dylan’s ‘Blind Willie McTell’ - a track that he compares to
reading a Southern Gothic Faulkner novel. And Glen Campbell’s ‘Gentle
on My Mind’ is a song he remembers from his early childhood, when his
grandfather, also a guitarist, would throw parties where friends would
gather to drink and sing and forget their troubles.
 ‘Pastimes’ was recorded at Fame Recording Studios in Muscle Shoals,
live and with as few takes as possible in order to capture a sense of
authenticity. Says LeBlanc, “I feel like music is nothing more than a
spiritual endeavour to widen the horizons and heighten the senses of the
things inside of everyone that sometimes feel unreachable.”
 Dylan LeBlanc has spent the last decade releasing four acclaimed
albums, winning praise for his arresting alt-country style, collaborating
with the likes of Emmylou Harris and Brittany Howard, and sharing
stages with heavyweights like Bruce Springsteen and Lucinda Williams.
 “One of modern country’s most interesting voices, in both senses of the
term.” - Uncut
 “Sublime voice and evocative songwriting.” - Nashville Scene

LP Black Vinyl, DL card. ‘Until We Fossilize’ is the debut album from Marta Del Grandi, an eclectic singer songwriter from Italy. This is an award-winning jazz vocalist set in new territory, crossing borders of genre and style from West Coast ‘60s to ambient exotica, from plaintive Lynchian etherealism to dramatic Morricone scores. Marta gathers influences from near and far to create a unique genre-splicing style who’s now travelling her own unique and unchartered path. Newly signed to Fire Records, this debut is an unravelling of time and distance; a breathtaking journey from mainland Europe to the Far East and back again, delivered as an eerie, soundtrack by a captivating vocalist. A self-produced gem; filled with lush strings and electronic ambience and an eclectic vocal that transcends boundaries. Lead single ‘Amethyst’ takes inspiration by the myth of Amethyst, filled with Greek mythology, touching the wildest manifestation of imagination, it’s the story of a woman who frees herself from the expectations imposed on her by patriarchy. Composed with Indian drummer Tarun Balani, Marta sounds like Sandy Denny backed by Eno on Gamelan with a nod to Sun Ra. ‘Until We Fossilize’ is a lyrically aware set of dramas littered with life-affirming couplets over gorgeous, dramatic turns. “It’s modern and ancestral at the same time.”

For the first time a Black vinyl pressing of the sold out LP of the latest Chills album. Latest studio album from the Dunedin (NZ) songsmiths helmed by the enigmatic Martin Phillipps with artwork by Trees’ David Costa. Dunedin’s finest, The Chills release their seventh studio album ‘Scatterbrain’, a glorious self-examination of Martin Phillipps’ songwriting hot (ish) on the heels of the hugely successful ‘Snowbound’ (2018) and the critically-acclaimed movie ‘The Chills: The Triumph And Tragedy Of Martin Phillipps’ a year later. “It’s about artistic integrity, self-realisation, self-acceptance and a reflection on mortality.” The Guardian…. Now in 2021, Phillipps is now taking stock of things – everything. Yes, everything. The result is this triumphant new Chills’ album ‘Scatterbrain’, a thought-provoking and evocative take from a man who has lived through good times and bad. A mature and honest reflection on life, destiny and the fate of our times delivered in beautiful melodies with Phillipps’ trademarked incisive turn of phrase. Viewed from the perspective of a man understanding his age and indeed his own mortality, the new album takes a mature look at matters arising with a side order of perspective. ‘Scatterbrain’ is a life passing before your ears as uncertainty increases and fake news rumbles on; during which aliens invade, Phillipps scales the walls beyond abandon as he probes the minutiae of worlds within worlds and the hourglass fills. A landmark album from one of the great modern song writers, it’s pure pop music for the new normal and we can’t wait to see how it ends…“This is what a living legend looks and sounds like” Rolling Stone // “An architect of New Zealand’s fabled Dunedin sound” Pitchfork

Ten years after its release, the reissue of this fabulous Matt Elliott record seemed essential to us since it was eagerly expected! It is undoubtedly the most dramatic sequel to the songs trilogy being outstanding for its darkness, from which he has progressively turned away. The Songs Trilogy is over, A new chapter entitled 'The Broken Man' is about to open and is the most delicate of Elliott's albums to date. The angry noise has all but abated, making way for more fragile melodies and a more subtle approach to intensity to immerse the listener. Ideally listened to in total darkness to discover the hope hidden deep within the guitars, voice, choirs, bells, ethereal trumpets, the howl of the dog beneath the skin, in the sincerity of the music. Inspired by the ghosts of European folk music, the voice often resigned but always expressive. Always finding new ways of working, Elliott collaborated with Katia Labeque who interpreted an improvisation of his that became the backbone of one of the central epic pieces on this album 'If Anyone Ever Tells Me That it is Better to Have Loved and Lost Than to Have Never Loved At All I Will Stab Them in the Face'. 'Dust Flesh and Bones', another of the epic pieces on this album, is perhaps Elliott's most beautiful and moving work to date, simple in it's form but emotionally profound. 'The Pain that's Yet to Come' hints at a new almost psychedelic era to come. 'The Broken Man' is an album to be discovered gradually over many listens, and with each one a new depth is surrendered until one can appreciate the panorama in it's entirety. Each track is an invitation to explore one mans analysis of his own descent reflecting the frustrations and sadness that touch us all at some point. Mixed by Yann Tiersen this album is a bridge between the more acoustic work of 'Songs' and the more electronic, ethereal work of Third Eye Foundation. It is finely balanced in the centre of Matt's musical universe.

There are records with empathy, records which are your friends and then there's the others... There might be little difference between them, a certain "je ne sais quoi", an "almost nothing but still something" which makes the difference between almost pointless and vital records. Despite, or rather thanks to his cynical despair, Matt Elliott's music never holds up a moralizing mirror to us - on the contrary, it creates a compassionate dialogue with listeners like the rhythm of two steps that synchronize to become as one. In 2016, Matt Elliot brought out his seventh solo album The Calm Before whose obscure title is neither exactly threatening nor comforting... the calm before what? Before the storm for sure but maybe also before the great record, the immediate classic we felt might be coming for a long time in the dual discography of the Bristol-born artist working under his own name and his electronic alias Third Eye Foundation. The elegant details and perspectives of Little Lost Soul (2000) already hinted at the upcoming masterpiece from the English singer-songwriter. The Mess We Made (2003) was Matt Elliott's first solo album and portrayed a universe in a kind of flight towards Balkan horizons made up of visceral despair. With the Songs trilogy, he put aside the electronic side of his work to continue working with a minimalist, stark and lucid style of writing. The Broken Man (2012) was full of tears and long laments sometimes carried by Katia Labèque's piano on a record which painted new shades of grey. On this record Matt began working with the producer, arranger and multi-instrumentalist David Chalmin (La Terre Invisible) who has kept on collaborating with the Bristol-born singer since then. Their partnership continued on Only Myocardial Infection Can Break Your Heart (2013) and The Calm Before (2016). Stéphane Grégoire is the head of the Ici D'Ailleurs label which has accompanied Matt Elliott since 2005 and perhaps he describes this album the best: "This new record by Matt is without a doubt his best album to date, a record that takes him into another dimension where he fully asserts himself as a songwriter and singer of the calibre of artists like Bill Callahan, Leonard Cohen or Johnny Cash." Matt Elliott's other records all seemed like empathic links between each other. Farewell To All We Know is an instant classic based on the sensitive piano and superb arrangements of David Chalmin, the sensitive cello of Gaspar Claus, the subtle bass of Jeff Hallam (who has also played with Dominique A and John Parish). There is a clear form of alchemy in all of this and still we find Matt Elliott's usual atmospheres and scenery, the same Eastern European folk music, long songs that take time to settle over time. Everything is the same but also is transfigured. By making his music stark and purifying and redefining the subject matter, Matt Elliott's work became so much more delicate. However this work is never frail nor really turned in on himself and thus becomes like a vital tune that vibrates and unfolds. The opening song Farewell To All We Know seems torn between the fear of what tomorrow may bring, inevitability and hope for the future in a permanent and progressive dramatic tension expressed by his Spanish guitar, the impressionist style piano and Matt's voice teetering on the edge of whispers. A funereal tribute to endless twilights and the dawns we all dream of seeing. There are touches of Leonard Cohen from Songs from a Room or Thanks For The Dance in The Day After That with Gaspar Claus's counterpoint cello. There is no spirit of resignation in Matt Elliott's work - life's path has to be followed against all odds. We have to follow the river's flow to reach the immense ocean and its infinite freedom. The haunted instrumental Guidance Is Internal harks back to the atmospheres of Howling Songs (2008) with its guitar parts full of scansions and muted threats. The music is transcendental but never seems afraid of the risk of falling. This is also what Bye Now tells us with its quasi-obsolete simplicity and sunburst melancholy reminiscent of the work of Luiz Bonfá, Bill Evans on Peace Piece or laidback crooners of the 50s. In Farewell To All We Know, Matt Elliott incessantly alternates between the dual desires to face up to the world or to protect himself from it. Hating The Player, Hating The Game is a lucid statement about the dullness of our daily lives sometimes, our right to get out of the game and no longer want to be part of it. Matt Elliott is tender but spares no one, particularly himself. Aboulia speaks of the tiredness of living and of looming death while Crisis Apparition says that there is always a time for reconstruction after chaos. This is like initially wearying wandering in the ruins of Aleppo with the slow dilution of the melody into a hallucinated drone. However the smell of great fires always fades and the earth always regenerates. Matt Elliott seems to suggest that the survival instinct is stronger than any cold winds could ever be. Matt Elliott never sings of certainties and prefers possibilities. Possibly the worst is over? Maybe... Maybe the storm has passed and devastated everything, now we just have to rebuild and live again. Farewell To All We Know shows us the distance that still needs to be walked and he walks next to you - right next to you, he is the friend who doesn't spare you the truth like all true friends really do.

Following March’s 9696 Dream mixtape and July’s Flex Time EP, this new album sees 96 Back shine the spotlight on his own vocals for the first time, at points (such as on lead single ‘9 To Find 6’) operating fully in the realms of experimental pop. At other times, such as on ‘Teach Me Tenderness’ and ‘Feel Hard’, 96 Back stretches and processes his vocals to almost breaking point, while album closer ‘Melt You’ sees him duet with past collaborator Iceboy Violet, ending Love Letters on a sombre but romantic note. That’s not to say Love Letters is fully removed from the dancefloor, however: tracks like ‘Don’t Die’ and ‘Love Compact’ are precision-tooled for the club, while the likes of ‘Felzin’ and ‘Vibrant Colours’ continue to explore the intricate but emotive electronics that 96 Back has been so successful with in the past. More varied and vivid than any of 96 Back’s releases to date, Love Letters feels like a coming of age moment. It casts its net incredibly wide at points, and it’s an album full of ambition, but it meets every challenge it sets itself — as affecting in its quieter, tender moments as during its dramatic peaks. In 96 Back’s words: “This is a record I feel like I’ve been trying to write for years, it feels like the most accurate body of work to match the ideas in my mind. Trying to project a lot of the records I hold very dear to me through this lens, interpreting how they sound to me and merging them with ideas of finding the drama and excitement in the full spectrum of emotions on the tip of my tongue, that’s what ended up being Love Letters, Nine Through Six.”