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All Demilich demo material plus recordings from 2006 in a snappy double LP package. Compiled together with the band, this is the ultimate Demilich demo compilation. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries.

All Demilich demo material plus recordings from 2006 in a snappy double LP package. Compiled together with the band, this is the ultimate Demilich demo compilation. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries.

Pleaser’s musicality, ethics and community are undeniably punk, but their expression is vast and more personal than it is bound by the confines of any one genre. The band projects the heart-on-sleeve earnestness of early emo, the in-your-face vivaciousness of punk rock and a metal-tinged darkness, as well as infusing both classic rock and modern experimental elements into their own unique aural aesthetic. Songs are both catchy and impenetrable at the same time, with the band appreciating a pop hook just as much as a labyrinthine song structure. Pleaser chews it all up and infuses it with their own noisy but charming melodic rattle.
Double lead vocalists and guitarists Annie Nyvold and Suo Fei, drummer Oliver Nehammer and bassist Olle Bergholzall enjoy omnivorous taste in music, and a pure love for creative expression.
Pleaser’s 2023 debut was acclaimed internationally by media such as Cvltnation, Bandcamp and Maximum RocknRoll. Aligned with the release of their debut album, Pleaser played a wide range of concerts in Denmark, from underground punk shows to well established festivals such as Roskilde Festival, K-Town Hardcore Fest and Metal Magic. This sparked a new wave of attention and airplay on BBC Radio 6 Music, and led them to stages in Scandinavia and Germany.
With their new album more cohesive than ever before, Pleaser persists in experimenting with their catchy, yet aggressive and dynamic sound, heightening listeners’ emotions in the process. The forthcoming full-length presents a series of adventurous new punk songs, fusing their creativity with a new force of excitement and curiosity. This new universe revolves around the journey of self-exploration, liberation from inner darkness, and transcending that darkness to form new pathways.

Neon Pink Vinyl. For their tenth LP in a career spanning more than two decades, Tulsa's Unwed Sailor deliver their heaviest riffs, loudest squalls, and most deeply textured arrangements yet. Cruel Entertainment is a catalogue of contrasts - dissonance and harmony, hardcore crunch and post-rock grandeur, complexity and catchiness - that adds a vibrant new dimension to the second phase of their discography, spanning thus far from 2019's landmark Heavy Age up to the "vivid, starry-eyed psychedelia" (AllMusic) of 2024's Underwater Over There. Opener and lead single, "Rock Candy", roars in with a gale of feedback, pounding drums, and nimble bass, until a latticework of howling guitars ushers us into a more goth-tinged space. It's a characteristically intricate, energetic composition that flows with remarkable ease between its parts, and wastes not a moment of its three minutes. "Monster Collecting" brings a rare combination of melancholic and driving energy, reminiscent of avowed heroes New Order, but ups the ante with a tight, fastpaced rhythm section and litany of guitar lines, until opening up into a cascade of reverberating textures and tenuous sweetness. According to Ford, the title Cruel Entertainment refers to "the hardships of being an artist and musician in the crowded, imbalanced world of social media and streaming," where the completion of a new work demands that the creator also be a promoter, content strategist, and agent, among many other intensifying challenges. Pointedly drawing inspiration from noisier, rowdier bands - including Fugazi, Quicksand, and Cherubs - here they seek a much-needed catharsis in the ongoing fight to keep the creative soul intact. Second side standout, "Monty Donahue", typifies this form of release, as massive, mid-tempo percussion leads a fluid low end theme - inspired by the dual bass assault of Dianogah - and Swatzell's chords burst into shimmering nebulas across a labyrinthine arrangement that's equally loud and beautiful. Title track, "Cruel Entertainment", is a mosaic of sound for which Ford's bass provides the mortar: taut drums list between the channels, washes of guitar stretch to the horizon, and metallic heaviness punctuates the drift. There is a confident immensity here, proving that, although Unwed Sailor have witnessed a wild amount of changes in the music industry, their knack for creating complex, vital, and masterfully produced work remains untouched.

The Crystal Hum is the debut vinyl release by Taiwan-based artist Yuching Huang and her first release for Night School.
A beguiling dreamscape of crackles, spluttering, love-struck Casios presided over by the the spectral vocal and guitar work of Huang, Yuching sings love songs at the end of this world and the beginning of the next. Recorded during a hiatus from her group Aemong (a duo with artist Henrique Uba) in Berlin, these songs elevate Huang’s unique vocal style and grasp of atmospherics. The Crystal Hum deconstructs balladry, Garage, guitar music and reforms it into a
unified ghostly otherworld version of these languages.

The Crystal Hum thrums with buried desire, trails of nocturnal reverb seeping out of apartment windows, diaristic vocal performances and deeply emotive, evocative Western-style strings. Formulated by Yuching Huang after periods of frustration and experimentation, the album is an exercise in minimalism and paring back, with some tracks like JohnJohn featuring little else than an elastic bass, spring reverb trails, an interjecting vocal and swelling, dislocated synths. The effect is spellbinding, the soundtrack to getting lost in the labyrinthine, closed streets of Venice, Taipei, Hong Kong, or mirror versions of them in the imagination.

On opener Fly! Little Black Thing, a subterranean funk bassline roots Huang’s singing, a rudimentary, unreliable beat floundering in whimsy underneath. Demure, dream Dance music, Huang references classic lo fi experimenters Suicide and Arthur Russell as well as Night School label mates The Space Lady and Ela Orleans. In fact, after the release of Aemong’s third album Crimson, Huang credits the direction of The Crystal Hum to being enchanted by The Space Lady’s Greatest Hits,
the landmark lo-fi recording made by Susan Dietrich Schneider in 1990. The new, minimalist approach to her sound world reveals and shrouds in equal measure. On the heart-melter Love, a sultry mid-tempo Casio + bass backing drops into the ether with Huang’s vocal swimming in preternatural void before emerging anew, in awe at the world. Every chord change heralds new perspectives, every guitar flurry swells and drips emotion, nothing is wasted and space billows out from between the grooves.
Huang never reveals more than necessary, making this an in-between love album: the right amount of mystery and darkened mirror shines wanely on The Crystal Hum while remaining fragile and vulnerable in the sweet spots. Turning over in pillowing smoke and night in the dark corners, Huang sings in both Mandarin and English. The songs speak of earthly matters seemingly at the edge of dissipating into nothing. Distorted, beguiling Sambas warble like sweating dancehalls in an imagined Lynchian 60s, as on Thoughts. Closer You, An Illusion warps a classic 60s Girlgroup bassline beloved of the likes of Les Rallizes

Denudes into a slight ballad on the edge of the void, held back by the teary-eyed, wistful and enveloping vocal cooed by Huang. Each song feels like a love song dedicated to the bits between worlds, between beats, the negative space between people where desires, feelings and loss hangs in the air, resolute and unresolved.

Prairiewolf make easy listening music for an age of fracture. They almost do it in spite of themselves. No one can seriously question the head music bona fides of the members of this Colorado-based trio.

Guitarist Stefan Beck has already assembled a formidable discography of jewel-toned guitar zone-outs under his Golden Brown moniker. And keyboardist and guitarist Jeremy Erwin and bassist Tyler Wilcox have both made their reputations as chroniclers of the vast world of out-music. Erwin helms the indispensable Heat Warps blog, a performance-by-performance archive of Miles Davis’s labyrinthine electric period. And Wilcox has been covering the ragged edges of psychedelia and experimental rock at Aquarium Drunkard and other publications, not to mention his own virtual basement for heads, the great bootleg blog Doom and Gloom from the Tomb.

These guys come by it honestly. And yet, given their backgrounds, Prairiewolf’s self-titled debut last spring was remarkably free of face-melters, brown acid blowouts, and ascendant spiritual jazz odysseys. Instead, they dropped a record of beautiful, elegant, low-key cosmic groovers that sounded like the piped-in background music to a resort hotel on Jupiter. It was an unlikely psychedelia, brocaded with mid-twentieth century sonic threading from the hi-fi era: vintage synthesizers, smears of spaghetti western, luxe tropical details, the faint schmaltz of space age pop. Imagine something like a Harmonia residency in the airport lounge. And yet somehow it all worked brilliantly. Prairiewolf became last summer’s cool-down standard. After a year woodshedding around Colorado’s Front Range region, the Prairiewolf boys have fired up their trusty Korg SR-120 drum machine for another outstanding collection of suborbital exotica. The appropriately titled Deep Time operates in its own chronology, unspooling at its unhurried pace. All its incongruous period and stylistic references—the new age pulses, Hawaiian steel, shaggy hippie rambles, lysergic guitar spirals, and orchestral synthesizer flourishes—float atop the album’s own singular temporality. Deep Time makes its own time.

From the moment Beck folds his slide guitar, origami-like, into a sound resembling the call of gulls on the tranquil album opener, “Peach Blossom Paradise,” there is a sense of departure from everyday life. The shimmering “Lighthouse” has a similar sunbaked nonchalance, like an afternoon passed day-drinking in a seaside bar. That they named their lush, kaleidoscopic downtempo track “The Meander” pretty much says it all. The ranging, propulsive “Saying Yes to Everything” seems like a nod in the direction of Rose City Band’s brand of wookie krautrock. And the motorik noir of “Demon Cicadas in the Night” also goes hard. Beck and Erwin’s intertwined guitar jam on the eerie album standout “The Cold Curve” evolves into something that sounds like primitive computer music. A genteel bassline from Wilcox on another album highlight, “Revisionist Mystery,” sets the stage for a loopy space jazz turn from guest clarinettist Matt Loewen of Rayonism. The title of post-rock cowboy tune “Another Tomorrow” might refer to the alternative future that so many critics heard in the music of Prairiewolf’s first album. Or it might simply refer to the persistence of time, however deep. Either way,

I’m thankful for the way Prairiewolf make each of their tunes a little oasis or sanctuary, each subsisting according to its own crystalline little logic for a few minutes. It is no simple task to filter out the omnipresent anger and anxiety of everyday life these days. But Prairiewolf are out here making it seem easy.

Brent S. Sirota

Probably in another life David Edren (DSR Lines) was a visionary biologist or chemist. In this new sound adventure, he becomes the narrator of anatomical and cellular symphonies, catharsis of invisible biochemical processes, painting the micro-dimensional flows of the subtle body or imaginary geographies of hidden micro-bodies. Here, his organic electronic music is enriched with new lymphs that also vaguely recall the influences of non-European music, especially Chinese and Japanese music (stick and chimes percussions) in an intimate and twilight dimension, poised between exotic ambient and cinematic suggestions. A miniaturistic description of liquid currents, labyrinthine veins, weaving streams, molecules and particles in multi-orbital dances, muscular chords, drowning bubbles, light waves; all in a confident compositional overview that is absolutely unique and fascinating.

Probably in another life David Edren (DSR Lines) was a visionary biologist or chemist. In this new sound adventure, he becomes the narrator of anatomical and cellular symphonies, catharsis of invisible biochemical processes, painting the micro-dimensional flows of the subtle body or imaginary geographies of hidden micro-bodies. Here, his organic electronic music is enriched with new lymphs that also vaguely recall the influences of non-European music, especially Chinese and Japanese music (stick and chimes percussions) in an intimate and twilight dimension, poised between exotic ambient and cinematic suggestions. A miniaturistic description of liquid currents, labyrinthine veins, weaving streams, molecules and particles in multi-orbital dances, muscular chords, drowning bubbles, light waves; all in a confident compositional overview that is absolutely unique and fascinating.

After navigating the labyrinthine musical chambers of their 2023 modern exotica album 'Palace Of A Thousand Sounds', Reno. Nevada’s Whatitdo Archive Group has returned with their first-ever holiday offering—venturing into the darker side of Christmas folklore with their new ice-cold 45, 'Wild Man'. Drawing inspiration from a global archetypical myth of the same name, Whatitdo Archive Group examines the ancient story of the Wild Man—the hairy, half-human, half-beast that stalks the shadows of humanity’s shared primeval past. The myth of the Wild Man is a folktale that goes by many names: The Yeti of the Himalayas, the Bigfoot of North America, and, of course, Krampus of Eastern Europe—a yuletide beast with a reputation as a child-devouring "Anti-Claus" who now finds himself the subject of Whatitdo’s latest musical exploration.

‘Wild Man’ gives us a glimpse into the band’s newest sonic direction. With a heavy rhythm section carried by Alexander Korostinsky’s driving bass line, the sticky wah-guitar of Mark Sexton’s L-5, and the acrobatic lines of the Wurlitzer electric piano, “Wild Man” revels in the spiritual jazz flavors of Pharoah Sanders and grooves hard like the classic soul-jazz stylings of Ramsey Lewis. Much like the Krampus myth itself, 'Wild Man' is meant to weave an ominous spell over any Christmas cocktail party long after the kids have gone to bed. Hear the warning for yourself in the song’s haunting chant: "You better watch out for your life, when the Wild Man comes in the night".

But mythology isn’t abandoned on the B-side. The band takes the traditional English folk melody 'Greensleeves' and reimagines it through the musical lens of Ethio-jazz. Recorded live at the Archive Group Studios, the track exudes a dark, roomy atmosphere, drenched in unease and mystery courtesy of the wandering electric piano dancing above the hypnotic rhythm section and mesmeric groove of the distant Batá drums. This fresh reimagining taps into the ancient, cross-cultural lineage of the "Green Man" myth, a pagan symbol of rebirth and the power of the natural world, further blurring the lines between holiday cheer and the primal, elemental forces enshrined in our collective cultural memory.

After the band’s 'Palace Of A Thousand Sounds' was named 2023’s "Best Library Record" by PopMatters Magazine, their new 'Wild Man' 7” capitalizes on the same creative process that shaped their last record, while now exploring new conceptual territory. By drawing inspiration from archaic global folklore and again utilizing their peculiar recording techniques, W.A.G. has crafted a truly unique holiday offering that unearths the darker, more primal undercurrents of the Christmas tradition. The 'Wild Man' 7" is released as part of the Snowflakes Christmas Singles Club, pressed on snow-white bio-vinyl and limited to 300 copies.

Exquisitely compiled by Discrepant head honcho Gonçalo F. Cardoso from three tapes released earlier this year by the tireless mind-body of Spencer Clark through his own Pacific City Sound Visions, 'This Year In Coconuts Vol. 2' is another revelation into the deeply personal soundworld of this true voyager of both ancient, present and forthcoming times. Coming from a truly singular artist, capable of conveying multiple visions into a labyrinthine-esque mythology all of his own, these seven tracks feel as much part of their original setting as connected pieces from this never ending and puzzling netherworld.

Dedicated to the Temple of Isis in Pompei and opening sides A and B, the two tracks from 'Tempio d'Iside' set up a scenario not far from a dream version of the Temple itself, made from crystal clear synth-lines and levitating ambiences, like drifting into ancient memories from days to come. Making up about half of the compilation, the four tracks from 'Kowloon Spider Temple' drip into a feverish mosaic of Clark's by now trademarked cascading rhythms, unhinged alien-vocal samples, phantasmic textures and sparkling synth harmonies projecting a catchy hypnotic oblivion filled with intrigue. The sole title track from 'From the Caves and Jungles of Apulia' tangentially reports back to some lower-fi recordings of the past, with its murkier sound inducing the feeling of willing confinement within such caves and jungles. A brilliant Year in Coconuts, indeed.
Mastered by Rasha

More than two years after the release of 'Impressões de Outra Ilha', Discrepant's head honcho returns home under his birth name with the appropriately titled 'Exotic Immensity'. Conjured from the seeds of an exhibition of dioramas at Le Bon Accueil in Rennes, this double LP feels quietly epic in scope, a sprawling travelogue through imagined scenarios and what if possibilities. Discarding the more rough around the edges collages of previous works under a myriad of aliases - Discogs it, if you will -, Cardoso's approach here is more meticulously composed, with seamless transitions within his own personal soundworld giving way to this hallucinated landscape of field recordings, subtle electronic tweaks, cascading patterns, queasy ambiences and kösmiche-like synth harmonies.

Perfectly embodied in Evan Crankshaw's cut up poem, filled with occult and sci-fi references such as Agrippa's Book of the Occult, William Blake's Book of Urizen, Dr. Moreau or 50's pop-science books, the music on 'Exotic Immensity' transverses time and cartography in a deeply personal matter, from the cricket-like textures and reverse loops of 'Réplica(s)' until the closing moments with the touching chord progression and mangled voices of 'Pó Nuno'. In-between, the foghorn meets bass clarinet melody of 'Ossos' recalls the unassuming but essential harmonic patterns of Laurence Crane, surrounded by an almost percussive sheet of field recordings that drift into the gliding synth tones of 'Desumanização (I & II)' until tape orchestral swells carry us into the aether. 'Aquário Novo Mundo' brims in an undisplaced cartography, from electronic marimba stabs to synth choirs, the call of the loom to labyrinthine keyboard harmonies and underwater radiance. Are we still here? Somewhere? The muffled looped rhythmic sequence of 'Imagem/Miragem', cut by the glow of cascading synths doesn't offer a reply. Nor does it need to.

'Exotic Immensity' exists on the perpetual outside. Blessed be Cardoso for showing us a way in.

Sumer Is Icumen In is Quentin Thirionet's (Dhavali Giri, Pairi Daeza) debut album. Still, his musical escapades are vast and varied, based almost entirely on improvisation and live recordings, of which he occasionally distributes tapes without further information. Elusive to categorization and identification, unwilling to fix his musical activity under a stable pseudonym, his projects have ranged from gypsy jazz guitar swings, French traditional songs from Auvergne, and various experimental collaborations. Increasingly closer to electronic instrumentation, he crafted what Belgian label KRAAK presents here as Maibaum, his first ever solo output. As the title goes, this may be a maypole on which his multicolored sonic visions spring about.

Former rope access worker and currently a farmer of organic greens, Thirionet lives up to these lines of work as a musician. He assembles precisely what seems like a subtle balance between high manmade structures and soft fertilized soils; a high voltage pylon placed in a biotic landscape. It's all an even blend, spontaneous and steady, but this contraption comes from profound considerations. "I chose these tracks among many others," says Quentin, "because I heard the melodies all the time in my mind, and because I cried while playing them without really understanding why."
Armed with nothing more than a blackbox, a sequencer, a freeze pedal, and a tape player, Thirionet orchestrates a vivid rite of polished futures. At times reminiscent of Hans-Joachim Roedelius' enveloping arrangements, Maibaum's ambiances rely on mild repetitive patterns subsequently textured by prickling sprouts, mechanic dislocations and revamps that stoke and brighten the stirring motions. Jim O'Rourke's I'm Happy and I'm Singing comes to mind in terms of its detailed and prismatic nature, but Sumer Is Incumen In has its particular narrative. It's a tale of regeneration, of spring's delicate procedures and allure, a celebration of gracious and fortunate junctions between nature and machinery.

The album unfolds like a massive engine being made flesh to drift along the ether of a sultry land. The terrain turns pleasant and fertile in the title track; the colors and melodies of May start to unravel. Chromatic columns rise and define the scenery's depth of field breeding a synesthetic stream between crystal lights and warbling organisms. Grande Albero Buono Magico Uoma's brisk kaleidoscopic arpeggios sound like scanning a tree's litmus foliage. Then Ciguri takes us back to the foggy swamp of the beginning but is suddenly lit by an insect’s labyrinthine roundabout. The Jeweled Grid is a poem Quanta Qualia's lustrous metallic voice recites as a report of the album's phenomena. "Shiny revelations jump out. Pearls of thought flicker about." Images from within that distill to swirl around among us. The thicket dissolves as the album concludes calmly in Le Concept De Chien N'aboie Pas. Swaying under sieved solar light, leaves and branches tingle until the winds grow weak. All the warm creatures gathered along the way, and all those who danced around the maypole's splendid equilibrium now withdraw, folding up small to foster rebirth once again.

José Badía Berner

Heavener', the fourth album 2023 by the Port Neches, Texas, metalcore band Invent Animate. The release follows their most recent single 'Elysium', which earned praise from RockSound "an atmospheric and pain-staking piece of modern metalcore brute force", Wall of Sound, and Heavy Mag. Their 2021 EP 'The Sun Sleeps, As If It Never Was' 2M+ streams earned praise from HM Magazine "a powerful discourse on the ricochet effect of trauma and addiction", Wall of Sound "dark in nature yet beautifully honest", and Blunt Magazine. 2020 full-length 'Greyview' has 10M+ streams. Additional praise from Kill Your Stereo, Frontview Magazine, Chaospin, Distorted Sound. Released independently via Australia's leading heavy music label UNFD.

Panoram makes soundtracks for daydreams gone sideways. Picture the scene: an afternoon nap with the television on, quietly, in the corner; snatches of conversation drift in through the open window. Wandering, half-formed thoughts take unexpected detours; before you know it, there’s a movie playing out against closed lids, the colors bright, the characters unfamiliar. Accidental rhythms, incidental melodies, imitations of life, messages in code.

Across 17 fragmentary, sketch-like tracks, Panoram carves a labyrinthine path in which nothing is what it seems: a fantasy world of breathy vox pads, faux guitar, detuned synths, bursts of flute and orchestral percussion, and even the occasional cheeky cartoon sample. It’s chillout music with a chilly edge, ambient with a darkly ironic undertone. (The briefest glance at your news outlet of choice should be enough to confirm that the title—Great Times—ought to be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism.)

Panoram has been making music under his principal alias for more than a decade now, releasing albums on labels like Firecracker, Running Back, and his own Wandering Eye. (He has also performed and recorded with Amen Dunes, and has co-production credits on Amen Dunes’ forthcoming Sub Pop album Death Jokes.) Panoram’s output has ranged widely, taking in abstract pop, classical composition, twisted takes on library music, and cyborg funk. One record of “bio-acoustic transmissions” came with a cannabis leaf pressed in clear wax; his 2021 album Pianosequenza Vol. 1 gathers his experiments on the Yamaha Disklavier. But Great Times offers the truest picture yet of a project that has never been easy to pin down.

Loath to overshare details about his personal life, Panoram instead lets the music do the talking, using his cryptic tracks to express the slipperiest sorts of ideas—the thoughts that take root where anxiety, distraction, and the most fleeting traces of grace commingle. Panoram’s approach flies in the face of contemporary ambient orthodoxy, with its emphasis on immersion and uplift. Great Times expresses something thornier, more difficult to translate, yet also more tantalizing to contend with. Its 17 tracks offer a chance to get lost—and an invitation to remain in the maze as long as you like.

It’s time to embark on the next chapter of extra-terrestrial worldbuilding - the second instalment of Seismic Records is here. Stepping in is sonic explorer Pyramid of Knowledge a.k.a. K.O.P 32. Based in Seoul but born and raised in France, the Beyond The Bridge label head is blending his Tekno roots with an introspective approach to music, carving out a trademark sound led by pensive rhythms and psychedelic atmospheres. With fierce precision and spellbinding force - you’re invited to explore the unknown depths of your psyche as you enter the state of ‘Fusion’. In all its ominous grace, the journey takes off with ‘CFU’. A kaleidoscope-esque acid ritual is guided by subtle yet uptempo kicks, lifting us into the first phase of the cleansing. Followed by ‘Xer’, where an ancient chant introduces the next dimension of consciousness-expansion. The progression of energy tells us that the higher powers have bigger plans for us - a phase that is entered on the B-side. ‘TV’ surges in tempo and raises blood pressure with an annihilating paradox of the calm and the chaotic. For those who managed to withstand all phases of the occult test, reconciliation is near as ‘Yrots’ strikes down with a mind-warping drum workout for the body and soul. Enter the heart of a psychedelic odyssey and swirl into the labyrinthine pathways of your ego as you enter the Fusion by K.O.P. 32.

Akio Niitsu's first album, "I/O(i?o)" released in 1978, was produced in a homemade studio that had been converted from a storeroom in his home, and he spent three years doing everything from composition to engineering by himself, using overdubbed guitar recordings. 's first analog re-release has been decided.

As a guitar multi-recording album, the idea was realized six years earlier than the album "E2-E4" released in 1984 by Manuel Göttsching, the central figure of "Ash La Tempel", but it was too early. A hidden experimental/ambient gem!

The paradoxical sound that makes you feel as if you are lost deep in a labyrinthine forest, combined with Tadanori Yokoo's artwork, is a piece that allows you to enjoy Akio Niitsu's worldview with your ears and eyes.

Composed by Jim O’Rourke and pieced together by Jim together with longtime collaborator and trumpeter Eivind Lønning at Jim and Eiko Ishibashi’s home in the Japanese mountains, this engrossing new album blows brass wails and tense fanfares across O'Rourke's manipulated Kyma tapestries for a deep, captivating trip into the aether.

Eivind Lønning has been sharing ideas with O'Rourke for several years: the duo collaborated on music for the Whitney's 'Calder: Hypermobility' exhibition, and Lønning played trumpet on O'Rourke's brilliant 2020 album 'Shutting Down Here'. For this new work, Lønning headed to O'Rourke and EIko Ishibashi's home studio in the Japanese mountains, where he teased unfamiliar, alien textures from his trumpet to open the labyrinthine three-part composition. O'Rourke took the material and subsequently funnelled it through his Kyma system, transforming it into a swirl of sound that hums alongside Lønning's original takes. The album was composed, mixed and mastered by O'Rourke, with everything's based on Lønning's virtuosic performance.

The album begins by cautiously introducing us to its sonic palette: wavering, bird-like horn wails that O'Rourke contorts around quiet synth oscillations and computerised swarms. Lønning's spittle-drenched blasts are given the spotlight, but O'Rourke's manipulations - often gentle and illusory, and sometimes utterly lacerating - lift the sounds into completely new territory. When Lønning begins to turn rhythmic cycles using the trumpet keys, popping with his mouth to compliment its leathery timbre, O'Rourke replies with dense, hallucinatory drones, juxtaposing unstable electronics with Lønning's breathy, sustained notes. All these sounds coalesce into a dizzy vortex, but O'Rourke is careful not to overwhelm the senses, dropping to near silence as the first act transitions into the second. O'Rourke pelts Lønning's vertiginous wails, steadily mutating them into Xenakis-like stabs until they sound like cybernetic strings and icy tones that extract the tension from Lønning's brassy harmonics.

The third act is more screwed, with O'Rourke allowing Lønning's improvisations wail into cathedral-strength reverb, accompanying the sound with glassy penetrations and throbbing subs. Here, Lønning sounds as if he's heralding the arrival of a celestial being, piercing the atmosphere with bright, sustained tones and muted, jazzy flourishes. O'Rourke hangs back, carefully spinning the notes into naturalistic fibres and orchestral drapery, before he allows the electronics to subside completely and the trumpet to echo into the imposing negative space.

'Most, but Potentially All' is a dumbfounding piece that shifts the dial on contemporary experimental music; dizzyingly complex but never showy, it's the kind of record you can spin repeatedly and hear something different each time. As an exploration of the trumpet, it's a unique expression, and as a progression of electro-acoustic compositional techniques, it draws a deep trench in the sand, setting a new standard.

Luka Aron is a German musician and composer of electroacoustic and minimalist music based between Stockholm and Berlin. 'XV XXVII III XXI IX: Variations & Coda' is his debut vinyl release. Apart from his solo work, he is also a member of the trio Minua (signed to Nils Frahm's LEITER label) and the dream gaze band Roomer. His work was previously described as "thick, impasto layers of slow-moving sound that completely command your attention" in The Guardian.

'XV XXVII III XXI IX: Variations & Coda' is a four-part suite for an acoustic ensemble (bass clarinet, contrabass, euphonium, foghorn organ, harpsichord, serpent, shō, and trumpet) and analog as well digital synthesis. The result is an album of spiralling compositions which navigate labyrinthine structures of multiple closely related overtones and layers of heavy distortion based on Aron's research and observations of the physiology of hearing through minute listening tests. On the album, the composer collaborates with a number of notable musicians: Mattias Hållsten and Santos Silva (both members of the late CC Hennix' Kamigaku ensemble), just intonation contrabassist Vilhelm Bromander, or Amina Hocine, among others. The release was mastered by Stephan Mathieu at Schwebung Mastering.

HYPERWIDE LUSTRE is Orchestroll’s debut record, a mini-LP released on Montreal’s GARMO – a highly curious and deeply devolved collection of music produced and performed for a run of live club sets by the duo.

Jester-like, this is music that laughs at you: because it’s funny, because it’s not; because you did too much, because you did too little. Because you’re too loud; too quiet. Wrapped in the exquisite production chops of Richard-Robitaille and Osborne-Lanthier, Hyperwide Lustre is quasi-sarcastic and fully irreverent, a shimmering hybrid of spectral dance music and avant classical; psychedelic, cinematic, fluid, and yet bejeweled with a crushing opulence. Lovelorn synths and haunted, clattering, percussion rolls through these halls. Will you follow them to their source? Or turn away?

Like a slow labyrinthine descent into ever-less-familiar passages, Orchestroll have crafted an album that feels genuinely puzzling and new. A warm welcome into a strange world. Two puppetmasters who lost control of their puppets long ago. The keyboard whispers, but the mouse decides the tale.