Cerca:less is more

Bisher haben Laurent (Gitarren, Gesang) und Mathieu (Schlagzeug) 9 Alben auf ihrem eigenen Label (F.TheBassPlayer Rercords) veröffentlicht und mehr als 1200 Konzerte in 67 Ländern weltweit gespielt, darunter Festivals wie Fuji Rock (Japan), Pentaport (Südkorea, gleich 3 mal!), Lollapalooza (Brasilien & Chile), Download (UK), Paléo (Schweiz), Oppikopi (Südafrika), Blues Fest (Australien), Shaky Knees (USA) und viele mehr.

"Less Is More is the debut studio album by DJ and record producer Lost Frequencies. The Belgian youngster shook the world with debut single ""Are You With Me"" and soon found himself on top of the world, following up on his worldwide smash with global sensation ""Reality"" and ""Beautiful Life"". Now, he shows the full extent of his potential through his debut album. Harboring a plethora of ridiculously catchy singles alongside the before-mentioned hits, Less Is More shows exactly why Lost Frequencies' signature sound is so widely acclaimed. Easy on the ear, increasingly addictive, and filled with gorgeous, laid-back vibes, the songs on the album allow minds to drift and emotions to flow freely, all made possible through the delicate arrangements and a strong choice of sounds. Lost Frequencies describes the album himself as being ""all about the simplicity of good feelings blending together, bringing a chill, but still energetic vibe."" Less Is More is available as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on gold coloured vinyl. The vinyl package includes an insert with lyrics. "

Less Is More by Lost Frequencies, released 22 March 2024, includes the following tracks: "Beautiful Life", "Reality", "In Too Deep" and more.

This version of Less Is More comes as a 2xLP. This release comes with (a) Insert(s).

The vinyl is pressed as a gold disc. Another vinyl is pressed as a gold disc.

Emerging Irish talent Lukey makes his debut on Hot Creations next month with the three-track Less Is More. Achieving such a feat so early in his career signals a major milestone for the young artist, setting the tone for a highlight year ahead.

The title track kicks off the release, showcasing the Irishman’s signature style with a minimal, four-four led bassline that features a rolling synth throughout. Quick One soon ups the tempo, packed full of dubby undertones and cosmic-leaning synths, before We Will Never Hear brings things to a close. A devilishly danceable piece that features an iconic vocal, expect to hear this across the global club circuit in 2021.

Already an established presence in his home city of Dublin, it’s no surprise Lukey is beginning to take the wider industry by storm. Previous appearances on Play Groove and IWANT Music have solidified his reputation as one of dance music’s breakthrough talents. With two vinyl-only releases dropping on Carpet & Snares this year, as well as plenty of productions in the pipeline, the future is certainly shining bright for Lukey.

Soul Kiss EP by Around7

After more than a decade shaping dancefloors and curating sound, ROOTS steps into a new chapter with the launch of its vinyl imprint: ROOTS LTD, a platform dedicated to exploring the essence of “the sounds of Roots.”

The inaugural release comes courtesy of Gojnea76, delivering a refined four-track EP built with the dancefloor in mind. Drawing on the spirit of ‘90s tech house and memphis rap, the record blends solid basslines, groovy vocal cuts, and rolling pads into a cohesive and timeless journey.

With his unmistakable signature, Gojnea crafts a debut that feels both nostalgic and forward-thinking, a statement piece to mark the beginning of ROOTS LTD.

Bell Gardens combines the musical visions of Kenneth James Gibson (formerly of Furry Things, now recording as
*Bell Gardens' origins began arguably as more of an experiment than the duo's current 'experimental' projects - McBride's drone- and string-laden ambient symphonies, and Gibson's ventures in dub and minimalist techno - as they sought to manifest their mutual reverence for folk, psychedelia and chamber pop in a traditional band structure without cannibalising any particular past genre. Bell Gardens' sound is less reliant on effects and studio trickery than the pairs' independent guises, laying bare as it does vocals and live instruments with emotional sincerity, and presenting songs imbued with an almost pastoral or gospel simplicity and timelessness.
Slow Dawns for Lost Conclusions was again recorded mostly at home studios, but additionally the band made use of a friend's desert cabin in Wonder Valley, California, and it seems this willingness to retreat from the city has lent an expansiveness to the tracks, in particular the spacious, ceremonial 'Silent Prayer' (written in a snowbound mountain cabin in Idyllwild, C.A.) and the crepuscular 'She's Stuck in an Endless Loop of Her Decline' (mapped out under the stars in the desert).
While the addition of strings (contributed by Lauren Chipman of The Rentals and The Section Quartet) and trumpet (Stewart Cole of Edward Sharpe and The Magnetic Zeros) provides a double rainbow of tonal textures throughout, the nine tracks of Slow Dawns for Lost Conclusions are united by an understated elegance belying the newly expanded, communal effort in the studio: each instrument earns its place, nothing is overwrought or conspicuous. Moreover, it is McBride and Gibson's artistry in building stirring soundscapes from the barest of materials in their other guises that lends such assurance and sophistication to these arrangements.
The band is a result of the complimentary cross-pollination of Gibson and McBride's musical tastes - borne from a late-night conversation between the two that grew wings - and it is the universality of the sentiments and their restrained, reflective approach to writing and recording that allows the music to simultaneously straddle the past and the present. The music avoids pastiche, its pedal steel, sleigh bells and harmonies giving a nod to the ghosts of musical genres past, but never overriding or distracting from the emotional content of the sum of its parts.
The album ends with the glorious 'Take Us Away' - one of the first demos Gibson gave McBride when he was on tour with Stars of the Lid - neatly bringing their work to date full circle and exemplifying the band's mindfulness of their own serendipitous beginnings: the dawning of an auspicious, unique musical force.

Bell Gardens - Take Us Away -
Harmonies alert!! Actually, this is rather lovely. Slow-tempo, just the right side of 'twee' and packed full of strings, as if Air and Midlake had been taking balloon trips over the mid-West and sprinkling good-vibes dust across the land. From L.A. and subconsciously plugged into the '60s dream-pop scene, taking in a little bit of Mercury Rev and Brendan Perry en route, stopping off at Pearls Before Swine and Big Star's house for inspiration, before getting stoned with '70s era Brian Eno and Harold Budd.

*COMES IN GATEFOLD 2LP WITH LINER NOTES*

The premise of this compilation is simple: music we’d like to hear at the airport.

The idea came after learning that Honolulu’s international airport has been playing AI-generated music over its speakers since November 2025. First reported by Civil Beat, the news has caused frustration and disappointment among residents and visitors, as well as within the local music community.

Everyone knows Hawaii is one of the most musically rich regions in the world — why then is the airport using AI music? 'Music For The Airport' is our response.

Located in the middle of the Pacific at the outskirts of one the most remote cities on the planet, Honolulu’s Daniel K. Inouye International Airport (HNL) is for most people the first place they encounter when they arrive in Hawaii. Warm sun, tropical tradewinds, playful palm trees and majestic mountains welcome every traveler, as do the sounds of birds, familiar music from Hawaiian artists like Aunty Genoa Keawe and Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, and—at least for now—seventeen “island-themed” AI-generated songs.

In late 1977, while sitting in Germany’s Cologne Bonn Airport on a Sunday morning, Brian Eno noticed how terribly uncomfortable he felt hearing the airport’s “muzak” overhead. For a harried, hurried place like the airport where travelers scramble to their gates, stand in long border control lines, and wait impatiently for their luggage at the carousels, music can create more anxiety than calm. Asking himself, "What should we be hearing here?", Eno soon created ‘Ambient 1: Music For Airports’, a sonic remedy aimed at reducing nervousness in public spaces.

When we heard the news that HNL airport is playing AI-generated “muzak”, we were immediately reminded of Eno’s genre-defying 1978 album. And we were similarly inspired to react. But how? Recreating an ambient masterpiece wasn’t in our wheelhouse. We started digging through our catalog of licensed music which we haven’t yet re-released. We quickly realized this was our chance to highlight some of favorite songs from the so-called CD era: the 1990s and 2000s (with a few exceptions). In less than 20 minutes, we pulled 17 original songs recorded by local artists between 1984 and 2017.

The speed at which this project came together surprised us; reactionary gut instinct often produces swift and lasting results. Ironically, our new compilation likely took less time than it did for the state Department of Transportation to commission its AI songs in question. But even though ‘Music for the Airport’ came together in less than one week, the truth is that this collection of 17 songs is the result of years of hard work, trust, sacrifice, patience, and understanding. Building relationships with and licensing music from artists doesn’t happen overnight, but more importantly: these songs are the result of people pouring their hearts and souls into something they believe in. This music wouldn’t exist today without the artists and their loved ones who supported them along the way.

As of this writing, the DOT states its intention in creating AI-generated songs is to “highlight different aspects of the islands, aviation and the airport” and that “no state funds were used to produce them”. Okay, but at what cost? Technology disrupting the music industry isn’t news to anyone. AI music in public spaces are cost-saving measures, since its users (airports, for example) don’t have to pay the licensing fees typically required, which can be a worthwhile source of revenue for artists. But what happens when a place like HNL airport, which hosts more than 21 million passengers annually, uses music created by machines instead of people to represent Hawaii? The identity of a place beings to erode, diluted by a language learning model’s conceptual summary of what a people and its culture sounds like. To echo Brian Eno: what should we be hearing here? In other words: what should the music of Hawaii sound like?

We believe in the power of music, especially when it comes from the soul. We believe in supporting artists, especially as AI disrupts our lives. We believe that Hawaii must be represented authentically, especially when it comes to song. And of course we believe in vinyl, especially since it was a record from 1978 (Mackey Feary Band’s debut LP) that inspired Aloha Got Soul’s origins in 2010.

We hope you find as much joy in this compilation as we have. Perhaps it’ll soundtrack your next journey to Hawaii. At the very least, we hope some people take a moment to hear these sounds: in your headphones for now‚ maybe someday overhead at the airport in Honolulu.

It's hard to explain an album when one listen is enough. All the more so with MaMaMa: there's no room to stay passive. Listening to his new album, EST, means immersing yourself in an atmosphere that's softly psychedelic, comforting and organic all at once. A dreamy, electronic pop that proves this Strasbourg-at-heart, Paris-by-adoption musician, arranger, singer, songwriter and producer never stops reinventing himself. After changing his name — formerly Petit Prince — and delivering two critically acclaimed albums ("MaMaMa-gnificent." / "Hooks you carry in your head for a long time" / "sumptuous arrangements"), Elliott Diener now offers an even more sincere record. Real songs in French, after two albums where production sometimes took up all the space: "when you make heavily produced music, once you strip away the layers of sound, there's no fruit left underneath. On EST, I don't need makeup for the songs to work," he admits.


That's what this new album is about: the song and the French language first, then the pleasure of sound. An album less concerned with talking about its own making, more inhabited, more embodied, within a contemporary folklore. With this new album, don't expect to be bored: EST is his best record yet.

No pretense


Entirely conceived in his studio in Pantin — a room of his own, at last — imagined as a space free of any daydream, open to every sonic landscape, MaMaMa offers a record that's both hazy and downy soft. Often composed very early in the morning, it has become nostalgic without being dark, melancholic without being sad, with a few lineages showing through: Flavien Berger, Moodoïd, Feu! Chatterton for the taste for words and unease, Mount Kimbie for the approach to sound and rhythm. Unsurprising, given that EST was finalized with the British duo's producer. Live, MaMaMa is preparing a show in the style of Nicolas Jaar or UTO. Hypnotic and immersive.

The most liberating thing is that EST is an album without pretense. With it, we move through perseverance (in Aussi loin qu'il tiendra debout), the small arrangements we make to avoid facing reality (Tout sauf la vérité), and the fragility of bonds we thought were solid (Si bien ensemble). We also touch on lasting conflicts with the people we love (Anywhere You Are, There You Are), misunderstanding (Elle me parle une langue), and the erosion of friendships (S'envoler). EST draws an intimate and redemptive map of human relationships, in a body of work that's both lucid and sensitive — like when he also addresses social masks such as filial love (in Beau garçon, dedicated to his son) or relationships that have become impossible.

"It's really the album that sounds most like me, in terms of sonic landscape," Elliott points out. A record that rises above the noise of an imperfect, shifting world — like us — joyful in its words, liberating in its production. A true gem.

Following hot on the heels of the Frequency Damage EP, DJ Quest returns to Cyberfunk with Squeaks / Snake Style— a two-track release that dives deep into the unmistakable sound that made Quest’s productions stand out during the early 2000s.
Rather than simply recreating the past, both tracks tap directly into the DNA of the original Cyberfunk sound: rolling breakbeats, huge basslines, twisted analogue synths and the kind of distinctive production that became synonymous with DJ Quest at the height of the Bassline Breaks era.
Built around original analogue synth work throughout, Squeaks / Snake Style is a deliberate throwback to the raw, futuristic sound of the early 2000s, produced with the weight and clarity needed for today’s sound systems.
It’s classic Quest, strange noises, big bass, rolling drums and plenty of attitude.

A. Squeaks
Everything DJ Quest became known for rolled into one track. Squeaks is an unapologetic throwback to the classic Quest sound of the early 2000s, driven by heavyweight breaks, deep bass and original analogue synth work throughout.
Twisted electronic squeaks and evolving analogue sounds weave their way around the drums, giving the track that instantly recognisable combination of funk, darkness and futuristic weirdness that characterised so many of Quest’s early productions.
Raw, energetic and built firmly for the dancefloor, Squeaks takes the spirit of the original Bassline Breaks era and brings it straight back onto a modern sound system.
AA. Snake Style
On the flip, Snake Style takes the same analogue-driven approach but moves into deeper rolling territory.
A more hypnotic, heads-down breaks roller, the track develops around a heavyweight bass groove, rolling drums and constantly shifting analogue synth lines. There’s less emphasis on the immediate impact of the A-side and more on building a groove that locks into a DJ set and keeps moving.
Still unmistakably Quest, Snake Style combines the rawness and character of early-2000s breakbeat with modern low-end weight and production, proper rolling Cyberfunk business.
Special Vinyl Edition
Making this release particularly special for collectors, the 12” vinyl comes with an exclusive book showcasing the artwork from some of DJ Quest’s biggest and most memorable releases.
The book looks back through Quest’s extensive catalogue and the visual identity that accompanied the records, bringing together a selection of classic release artwork from across his career plus photo collages of memories made across his journey.
It turns Squeaks / Snake Style into more than just a new DJ Quest 12”, it’s also a celebration of the music, artwork and history surrounding one of the original pioneers of the Bassline Breaks sound.
For long-time followers it offers a piece of Quest history alongside two brand-new productions, while newer listeners get an introduction to the catalogue and imagery behind the sound

The track titles on Post Dub Cities – the new album by Adriano Zanni, photographer, sound artist, and field recordist – evoke the aftermath, that moment when a place continues to exist and live on, but no longer serves anyone. The human element has vanished, whether it happened overnight or through a slow abandonment that lasted for years. The perspective shifts: buildings, homes and palaces reveal a dimension of reality all their own, in which even the ruins give shape to this landscape that endures, transforming into pure presence.

This, after all, is our fate. The fate of us human beings, of our civilisation, of every civilisation: to pass away, to be forgotten, to erect monuments whose significance no one will remember once we are gone.

The opening track Crisopoli transforms the sonic dimension of a city into an echo chamber: a dark, urban dub built from delays and resonances, holding the imprint of what is no longer there — like a bassline that keeps vibrating even after its source has gone silent. What we see is not the presence, but its reverb.

Available from September 11, second excerpt Warosha gives us a minimalist, enveloping, solemn beat, like the symbols on a map that no one can read anymore. Warosha was the district of luxury hotels overlooking the sea in the city of Famagusta. After the island of Cyprus was invaded by the Turkish army, the entire area, emptied of its inhabitants, who had fled south, was fenced off and surrounded by barbed wire. No one has been allowed to enter it since 1974. Now, on these unspoilt beaches, sea turtles have found the perfect place to breed.

Fordlândia, on the other hand, is the symbol of Henry Ford’s failed dream of conquest. An industrial settlement built deep within the Amazon rainforest, several hours’ boat journey from the nearest towns, to gain access to natural rubber for the tyres of his mass-produced cars in Michigan. An extremely costly project, it quickly became a ruinous pipe dream: a town that has been uninhabited for almost a century and has since been reclaimed by nature.

For a long time now, Adriano Zanni has been exploring, through music and photography, the landscape that unfolds before our eyes, as attentive yet silent observers. As if we were absent, a civilisation that has long since vanished: human presence has dissolved, preparing to fade into oblivion. The precise depiction of places through field recordings, and the black-and-white imagery, give rise to apparitions, hallucinations, and memories. The less present we are, the more we seek meaning. We resist abandonment and the indifference of time.

In the ten tracks (plus three bonus tracks) of Post Dub Cities the echoes and reverberations of dub grant us access to an unknown future, as yet untold – in which we are nothing more than a vague memory. The deep sound guides us through a landscape that is familiar yet unknown, unrecognisable. The cold, distant, industrial rhythm resonates within us as if we were the last, all too aware, inhabitant of a now-deserted village.

Every place – be it an abandoned mining settlement on an island in Svalbard, or a ghost town in Pennsylvania evacuated following an underground fire that has been burning for sixty years at a depth of one hundred metres – leaves questions unanswered, shrouds itself in mystery, and makes us wonder, ceaselessly: what happened here?

In the end, we realise that we don’t really care that much about knowing the details of the disappearance. We can guess them, we’ve seen it happen a thousand times before. Just like in the photos accompanying the album, portraits of ghostly, deserted cities: Belgrade, like Venice, Dublin, Sarajevo, Lisbon, Kraków, Sofia, Naples, Hanoi, Lampedusa, Tehran. Unexpectedly, pleasantly emptied of people, and of their obsessions, struggles, illusions.

Then, suddenly, the crowd returns. Busy, feverish, hardworking. The record ends, the spell is broken. We feel a sense of longing for a future that has not yet come to pass, for a place we were only able to observe because we were not there.

There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.


Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.


At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along

There is a hush most of us only knew as children, the warm drift between familiar household sounds and being carried to bed, a place that belongs to you and to some self you have not met yet. June McDoom’s debut full-length, Follow the Light, lives in that dream space and then keeps walking, slipping out of time and waking somewhere new, barely familiar enough to feel like home yet wholly your own. She came up in a Jamaican household on the edge of the Florida Everglades, an existence built of extended family, communal care, bass and harmonics. Her father, a carpenter and a student of sound, built his own speakers and kept three sound systems going across as many rooms. His low end would rise through her bedroom floor like some wayward cat while she lay above it with folk records, finding harmonies that were new and hers alone. Two musics in one room. Lushness as past and premonition. She found folk on her own, somewhere between the cast recording of The Sound of Music and Simon and Garfunkel, while everyone around her called it sleepy music. She did not mind being the only one. The solitude let her fall for harmony first, before words, before anything else, and harmony is still the thing she reaches for. Generationally speaking, the music was already in the air. Her grandfather, Colin Smith, is a distinguished mento man who played banjo and guitar and built his own rumba boxes, worked to keep Jamaica’s oldest acoustic folk form alive. Mento is the root of all of it: ska, rock steady, reggae, dub and everything after. He is the one who put a guitar in her hands. An inheritance, a gift and a map. Even her name is part of it, though she will tell you she landed on it more by feel than reason. She records as June McDoom, born Alyssa, June being a nickname one of her grandmothers, Joan, went by, a name she thought was cool to carry and simply liked the sound of. An etheric channel that reverberates all the same. A dub all its own.


Made slowly and by hand with her longtime partner Evan Wright, Follow the Light lays the harmony of folk over the rhythm of dub, with Dionne Warwick, Minnie Riperton, Pentangle and the washed guitars of Cocteau Twins haunting its outer edges. Voice and guitar seeking each other out first, then everything else stacked across long days in the studio they keep at home, restraint kept on purpose. The lead single “Without You” is the whole method surfacing, split open and sparkling like a geode in a creek bed. Angelic heroics, and nothing less.


At the heart is family. Her grandmother Aggie, the light behind “Memory,” guiding still. And underneath, the quieter truth the record keeps: none of us are only one person, but a continuum of selves, the ones who shaped us and the ones we have yet to meet. Future you is an ancestor your current self gets to greet. Press play and the same invitation is yours: A few minutes out of time, a place that turns familiar the longer you stay until you surface somewhere new and find it was yours all along

For Louis Johnstone, making music has never been about waiting for the right equipment, the right environment or the right moment. Across more than a decade of work as both Wanda Group and A Large Sheet Of Muscle, the Huddersfield-based musician has built one of British experimental music's most singular bodies of work by embracing whatever happens to be within reach, allowing instinct, improvisation and circumstance to shape the outcome as much as conscious composition.
"'Chinese Benefits' was made over a year ago on an iPhone that had a broken microphone and was on its way out," he explains. "I have made many records after this with clearer sounds. Sharper ideas. That is never the point, though. You work with what you hold in your hands."
Recorded entirely on a failing iPhone 6 that stopped working shortly afterwards, 'Chinese Benefits' isn't a record about damaged technology. It is a record shaped by it. Rather than resisting the limitations of the device, Johnstone allows them to become part of the music itself, where distortion, interference and deteriorating fidelity are inseparable from the recording process.
Across twenty brief but disquieting pieces, corroded spoken word, environmental recordings, abrasive noise and fractured electronics continually emerge and dissolve. Voices drift in and out of range, reverberation stretches everyday sounds beyond recognition, and bursts of white noise interrupt moments of uneasy calm. There are echoes of radio transmissions, field recordings and musique concrète throughout, yet 'Chinese Benefits' never settles comfortably into any one tradition. Instead, it inhabits a space where accident and intention become almost impossible to separate.

That philosophy has long defined Johnstone's work. Through a vast catalogue of self-released recordings on his Umbro G imprint, alongside releases for labels including The Trilogy Tapes, he has consistently favoured immediacy over refinement, embracing imperfection not as an aesthetic but as a practical reality. His recordings are less concerned with perfection than with capturing the conditions in which they were made.
Looking back on 'Chinese Benefits', however, Johnstone's own assessment is characteristically understated.
"Listening back fully, it's quite a nice record actually. Fair enough, I make them and never really listen again TBH. Even better, it was the last Large Sheet Of Muscle record made on that phone with grit and damaged guts."

Like much of his work, 'Chinese Benefits' offers few fixed meanings. Its titles remain cryptic, its voices partially obscured and its structures deliberately unstable. What emerges instead is a deeply personal document of process over perfection, where the limitations of the tools become inseparable from the music they produce, and where the act of making something matters far more than the conditions in which it was made.

Fila Brazillia is the name of the decidedly singular collaboration between Steve Cobby and David McSherry, born in the coastal town of Hull in the UK. Bending—and often outright breaking—more or less every rule in the book, they've been effortlessly blending deep house, downtempo, breaks, ambient, and wry humour, sampling anything they can get their hands on. Their first outing was the 1990 single-sided white label 12" Mermaids, an airy deep house tune featuring a cheeky sample taken from the theme from Robison Crusoe. Since then, they've released a boat load of singles, seven highly regarded full-lengths, and more than 60 remixes for artists such as Radiohead, Busta Rhymes, and Lamb.

Black Market Gardening is their third full-length and marks a creative high-point for the duo. Over nine tracks, Fila Brazillia guides you through hazy, bass-heavy trip hop, cosmic synth lines, brisk breakbeats, funky guitar riffs, and even touch of drum 'n bass (it's the mid-1990s after all...). There's just so much to take in, leaving the listener wondering where the samples end and the live instrumentation begins. Yes, Fila Brazillia's output fits squarely within the chill-out tradition prevalent in the UK at that point in time, but their unmatched creativity and boundless approach to the studio process makes their music truly timeless.

Black Market Gardening is available as a 30th anniversary edition for the first time since 2001.

The “Kisses at Midnight” remix is an explosion of pure energy, designed for those who experience music directly on their skin. The track stands out for its rich sound design of open, sharp, and percussive sounds, capable of filling the room and creating a magnetic atmosphere from the very first seconds—thanks in no small part to the high-quality original sounds that define its sonic texture.

The real driving force of the track is its driving, arpeggiated rhythm: a continuous, hypnotic flow that doesn’t let you go for a single second, sweeping the listener into a non-stop journey from start to finish.

A physical and overwhelming track that hits you straight in the chest, giving no respite to anyone who wants to feel like an active part of the dancefloor.

– INCOGNITO

There are sounds that transcend time, capable of evoking entire worlds without needing any introduction. “Incognito” is exactly that: a visceral and modern tribute to the golden years of Italian progressive techno—an era that rewrote the rules of global clubbing.

The beating heart of the track lies in its hypnotic power. From the very first beats, you are captured by a perfect interplay of tight percussive rhythms and magnetic arpeggios, elements engineered to lock the listener to the groove and never let go. It is a continuous evolution, a sonic flow that destabilizes and fascinates, carrying us on a unique, mental journey.

Angelo Bass is an Italian DJ and producer known for his seamless blend of sophisticated electronica, house, and techno. After rising as a resident for the Push collective, he has graced the decks of top-tier clubs like Cocoricò, Sankeys Ibiza, and Veniceberg Verona. His production footprint is equally strong, featuring the highly supported “Drawn to the Floor EP” (Trend Records), his latest “Raw Luv EP” (Sengiley Wax), and key releases on Less Is More and Blackboard. Currently based in Ibiza, Angelo balances international club gigs with his role as an instructor at Accademia Italiana DJ.

Once upoun a time Fat Mike came up with the idea of calling up 101 of the best old and new punk rock band around, have them each record a 30-second long song, then put all the tracks out on one record to make the best punk compilation ever. And guess what, the dream came true. The 101 most famous punk rock bands around doing each a 30 seconds long song Back in print for the first time in ten years! Pressed to Lime Vinyl Features super rare songs (recorded exclusively for this compilation) by Green Day, The Offspring, Blink- 182, Pennywise, Rancid, Less Than Jake, The Vandals, Bad Religion, and more

Emerging from the dark Olympic forests with a new album and a full bag of chanterelles, fish narc's Ben Funkhouser has shifted the damp melancholy characteristic of his earlier work towards the sun. Uncle is at once a cry of resignation ("say uncle!") and a declaration of seniority, a set of observations steeped in the blues of youth, delivered with Westerbergian inclination. Recorded and produced by Alex Farrar, the album's 11 tracks bear the hallmarks of his style: textured rock `n' roll somehow both raw and polished. Neither waxing pathetic nor sugarcoating, fish narc and the band are at peak form on Uncle, strumming out the complexities of aging with the conviction of a group that's fully found its footing in well-crafted rock and powerpop. Uncle KLP313, is a culmination of the punk rock musical work fish narc has done in his native Northwest environs. Says Funkhouser, "I feel like Uncle is the best record I've ever made. The songs grew without changing, the textures are spot on, and Alex [Farrar] and I saw eye to eye about almost everything. The album represents what I want for my band and songwriting and is the touchstone on which all my future work will be based." fish narc is a rocker and producer from the Pacific Northwest, recently relocated to Los Angeles. As a member of GothBoiClique, his innovative guitar playing became iconic of the group and helped shape the style of the movement that they pioneered. As a songwriter, fish narc leans more on influences from SST, K and the diy scene he grew up in. Catch him with a full band for the true intended experience. Previous records include WiLDFiRE in 2020, Camouflage in 2022, fruiting body [KLP295] in 2023 and frog song [KLP298] in 2025. This autumn fish narc will tour the United States with his punk horde.

The duo Jolie Gentiane come to us straight from a wild and unpredictable mountain peak, a perched place far from civilization, where the beauty and cruelty of mother nature reign but harmonize the elements. They walk the high, steep paths, looking down on the chaotic and industrial world. This increasingly smoky world, which, from the top of the mountains, looks metamorphosing dangeroulsy, but would only need a few changes to make it less crazy. Or perhaps infinitely more so. Jolie Gentiane is a skilful concoction of sound and daring. Unclassifiable, impalpable, the contemporary embracing the tradition and the acoustic swinging with the electronics. Autotuned/vocoderized vocals, 4th world, kitsch sax, psychedelic arpeggios, acoustic guitar, techno, it's all there: the story told by Jolie Gentiane on this album is rich and complete. Nature, love, celebration, struggle, work. Yes, even work. Because the energy deployed to create this album was surreal, patient, extremely methodical, and the abnegation of the protagonists has been vertiginous: the cliff of the highest peak is finally climbed. This album is like an ode to the earth, to the respect we owe it, an ode also to music in its purest essence, that which does not confine itself to borders, but shout for federation, dance and uprising.

After years of building around techno, Genex is moving somewhere else.

The shift has been happening for a while. The music is becoming less about the expected function of a techno record and more about groove, movement and the details that make a track feel alive.House has always been part of the picture, but now it takes a much bigger role. Weeks & Weeks EP marks the first release from this new chapter.

It also opens the catalogue of Concrete Soul, a new label built around house and techno with soul. A place for music that can be raw without losing its character, and functional without losing the feeling behind it. Concrete Soul is about the contrast between the hard and the human, the concrete and the soul.

"For those who feel the ground"

Norman Gervais and Charles Bals return after last year’s Transcoastal compilation with their first project for the Italian label Periodica Records and its newly founded imprint, Periodica International.
The concept behind SiRENE 89 is quite particular and took six years to develop. It is presented as the live recording of one long evening, with different bands taking the stage one after another on the terrace of a Mediterranean holiday resort in 1989, inspired by the places Charles and Norm remember from their summer holidays around that time.
The songs were recorded between 1982 and 1993 and gathered from small-time artists, beach-club vagabonds, local micro-labels, library records and privately released tapes. The music moves lightly between mystical ballads, digital samba and loose, sunburnt dance songs, carried by drum machines, not-quite-tuned guitars and college-band voices.
The audience on the terrace remains quietly present throughout, joining the tracks into one continuous, partly improvised set. By the end, it feels less like a compilation and more like a place where you have spent the night, proving that charm can carry further than perfection.

Familiar. Usually reserved for things we think we know. A face, a place, a feeling, a record perhaps. Until, of course, they aren’t quite the same anymore. Or maybe you aren’t.
Jennifer’s debut album lives somewhere around there.
It’s a record about time, which is already a fairly ambitious subject considering nobody seems to have figured that one out yet. More specifically, it’s about what
time does to a person. The old versions, the new versions, and all the ones in between that you only notice when something suddenly brings them back. Someone you
haven’t seen in years. A room you used to know. A certain way the light falls. That sort of thing.

There’s a bit of a doppelgänger situation going on, too. Finding something completely new and somehow recognising it. Meeting yourself again without immediately realising who you’re talking to.
Which can be nice. Or strange. Usually both. The songs on Familiar sit comfortably with that contradiction. Looking backwards without wanting to go back. Missing things without necessarily wanting them
returned. Realising that people who once occupied most of your waking hours can become people whose address you don’t know. Meanwhile, some tiny, seemingly irrelevant detail from fifteen years ago remains perfectly intact.
Memory has its own filing system. Not a particularly sensible one.
Jennifer wrote a series of poems alongside the album. In them, familiarity appears in melting snow, rough coastlines, a kitchen already warm in the morning, somebody’s hands fitting into yours. Elsewhere she wonders about someone she
once knew everything about and now knows nothing about. They could live around the corner. They could live on another continent. They could, technically, be dead. Probably not. But that’s time for you.
Maybe Familiar is less about remembering who you were than realising you never entirely stopped being them. Things get added. Things disappear. Things come back looking slightly different.
And somehow, you recognise them.

Ąnis is a Lithuanian producer and DJ working in the space between broken rhythms and atmospheric weight. His tracks blur the line between club tools and introspective pieces - raw, textured, and unpolished in the best way.

Ąnis’ debut album “I Swear I’m Not Delusional” builds from late-night sketches into fully formed pressure systems. Ambient passages fall into break-driven grooves, each track shifting like a mood swing. It's rooted in tension, repetition, and space - think the grit and movement of early Skee Mask filtered through a more personal, less polished lens. Tracks like “Mountain People” carry warmth without needing to explain themselves, while others feel like they were made at 3am with no lights on. It’s not chasing a scene - just locked into its own pulse. This isn’t background music. It asks you to sit with it - or move to it. Either way, it sticks.

Credits
Original tracks written, produced, arranged and recorded by Jonas Zubavičius in Vilnius. Mastering by Pranas Gudaitis aka audiomastering.lt. Artwork and design by Povilas Baranauskis.

Our debut vinyl EP unites Strange Glide, Kamatchi, and Moxi in a project built around a deliberate progression. The tracklist was crafted to move from bright, solar energy toward darker, more introspective moods. Blending eclectic styles, we focused less on genre and more on emotion—shaping each track to express a distinct atmosphere while contributing to a coherent journey in tone and frequency. This EP is a shared narrative where each artist brings their own identity to a fluid, evolving sound.

Djrum's first release since 2019, the Meaning’s Edge EP is an introduction to a whole new world. For the artist also known as Felix Manuel, it was created in the final stretches of six rather traumatic years work. Having carefully honed his techniques and aesthetics, and learned some hard-won emotional lessons over this time, finally he began to work in a quicker, lighter fashion – and to cleanse his palate a little by bringing in a fresh ingredient: his own flute playing. For listeners, though, it will serve as an appetiser, a way into the delights and complexities of this new phase of his creativity.

It’s a serious work in its own right, mind. The use of flutes – including Bansuri, Shakuhatchi, Western Classical, and synthesised all blending and blurring into one another – gives it a coherence and a sense of airiness that unites the five tracks over half an hour, however divergent their beats get. And as in all his music, Felix’s whole life is in here. Ethnomusicology studies, untold hours of DJing everywhere from the gnarliest squat raves to the most rarefied deep house clubs, explorations of his own neurological and emotional makeup, and the technical finesse of someone who is never not creating music or art, all roll into an experience that’s dazzling, delightful and keeps on giving.

Just the opening track ‘Codex’ alone touches on OG dubstep, Aphex Twin-like braindance, post-classical exploration, movie themes and more. The gentle tones and melodies that rise up out of it perfectly conjure Felix’s running theme of a protective bubble that provides a sense of safety and tranquillity even as the beats and acid gurgles and spurts all around it conjure up the slings and arrows of life’s difficulties.

The tone set, the EP moves through ultra-rarefied glass-like percussion in an almost ambient setting, hints of grime’s counterintuitive patterns, and even more hectic patterns influenced by Tanzania’s hyperspeed singeli style of dance music – but always with that perfect balance of chaos and control, unpredictability and protection. It rewards playing and replaying endlessly, it’s a profound and often joyous experience… and it’s only just the beginning. This is the return of a master craftsperson more focused than ever on his vision and vocation and ready to blow your mind all over again.

Mastered and cut on 140g black vinyl by legendary mastering engineer Matt Colton at Metropolis Studios, London. Pressed at optimal media, Germany.

ICE CASTLES, Larry Heard's downtempo ambient, deep house masterpiece available on vinyl again. After nearly three decades out of print, Larry Heard's Ice Castles is finally getting the reissue people have been asking for. Originally released in 1995 (as Sceneries Not Songs - Volume Tu), Ice Castles stands out as one of the most overlooked, but essential records in deep house and downtempo. A hazy, RnB, jazz-inflected suite of tracks from the genre's original architect. Forming a blueprint for his release in the decades to come. From the shimmering ''Crystal Fantasy'' to the aching title track, this is Heard at his most intimate: less dancefloor, more personal. Now, for the first time since 1998, it's back on vinyl. Remastered and expanded to a full double LP with all tracks.

Yesca is back on Shall Not Fade with ‘Paint on Walls’ 12” EP.

2024’s Yesca EP on SNF - “Mood Loops” - set a high bar, so when we say this record is something special you should take note. Of course if you already know Yesca’s music or have had the pleasure of a Yesca DJ set then you will have already this queued up.

Sweet Spot: Ben Sims, Deetron, Oliver Ho, Vince Watson, Grain (Artwork’s Techno alias). Planet-E, Primate Recordings, Paul Mac & Stimulus Recordings found the sweet spot.

According to the OED the first use of the phrase “Sweet Spot” was in 1976 in reference to tennis rackets and golf swings. It’s where everything hits just right. And that’s what this EP does, hits just right. What strikes me is how descriptive the phrase ‘Sweet Spot’ is. Given enough swings and some luck we all know what it feels like to hit the sweet spot in some regard. Finding the sweet spot regularly though takes time and skill. But being able to hit the sweet spot by design every time, well that’s something different. That’s what makes the greats great.

For us at SNF there’s a consensus that in the lineage of electronic music there have been many moments where artists & labels converged on a sweet spot. One such sweet spot for us is in Techno
around 2003 when at the tail end of Hardgroove tempos began to slow and a groovier more refined tech house infused goodness appeared in the racks from a group of killer techno labels & artists (some mentioned above) that moment before the fuller emergence of the 2nd wave of Tech House in the mid 00’s.

That sound, while often emulated, never quite hit the same for us at least – until Yesca came along. His music has everything that we love about that sweet spot. Raw driving groove, rolling basslines and hip shaking percussion. What’s different on ‘Paint on Walls’ is that Yesca stepped on - he had already found the sweet spot on 2024’s Mood Loop EP - now his sound (or swing) is natural. Repeatable, refined and seemingly effortless. To revisit the tennis and golf analogy, this is the start of a Grand Slam run from an artist ready to etch their name in dance music history. Tiger..... Serena......Yesca.

Run the Tracks:
‘How I Do It (They Wonder)’ - A masterclass in less is more, and a serious DJ tool. Full of groove - slow it down and it will light the touchpaper in a house set - speed it up and you’ve got techno weaponry. Forget gatekeeping, this will make you feel like you just found a 2004 techno white label from the likes of Grain or Ben Sims.

‘I Desire’ - House music that I reckon Deetron would be proud of... Blissed out machine funk, whispered vocals, slick jazzy chords and dubbed out techno stabs are all grounded by Yesca’s impeccable, loopy drum programming. The best tunes always end too soon.

‘Domination’ - The ever rising bass, err, dominates this track and this track will dominate on many a dancefloor, but Yesca's knack for dubbed out swinging synth lines has to get a shout out here too. He turns what would be melodic elements into what feels like part of the percussion. Double Threat. Hands Up and Heads Down business.

‘Paint on Walls’ - It would be a tough call to say Yesca’s saved the best til last with the EP’s eponymous track given what’s come before, but Paint On Walls works all the highlights from the rest of the EP into a latin techno/house infused anthem. Skittering percussion, a hint of Detroit goodness and a deep deep rolling bassline and THAT vocal. In every way hopeful yet resistant, and that is what techno is all about.

At this point, the vast swathes of unreleased Muslimgauze material Bryn Jones left behind when he passed away over 25 years ago are as legendary as any of his work. And sure enough, there's still some being unearthed today.

The fourth entry in a 7" single series is taken from one of Jones' customary completely unlabelled DATs, which he sent to labels seemingly as fast as he finished them.

A new series of singles collecting one of Bryn Jones’ innumerable DAT tapes that would show up at the labels he worked with sans any identifying marks.

Side A layers multiple voices (a background, faraway wail that either is or is akin to a muezzin, and a flatly declaimed two-word phrase that periodically halts proceedings) over his classic, slightly brick-walled hand percussion for a strangely meditative experience, as Jones phases elements in and out, more or less prominently in the mix. Side B however, open in a surprisingly dreamy place for Muslimgauze, with a looped ascending synth pad and beautiful sampled singing only gradually acquiring percussive accompaniment. As with the other side, Jones is content to let these elements interact and swap spaces in the mix for the duration, trusting in the sturdiness of his chosen components to carry the listener through.

Season Two continues with its fifth edition - a shift south this time, from KiF's English hedgerows to the island of Lutruwita, Tasmania, and the work of Soda Lite.

A gooseberry plant took root in the sand between the bricks of Alex's back patio - nutrient-deficient leaves and all - and fruited regardless. That's most of the appeal: "I'm drawn to species that survive in the interstices of human industrialisation." The husk itself carries the same idea, shielding the berry until it's ready to be let go.

Past Soda Lite records - Earthbound, Aqua Solar Cura, Vale & Stone - built outward from field recordings first. Here that flipped: you can't field-record a plant, only the noise around it, so only two tracks (Vibrant Matter and An Sí Gaoithe) carry field sound at all. The rest came from narrowing to a single species instead of the wider non-human world, and "trying to create and replicate sound and energy on the level of the plant and its perceptive world."

Two more things worth knowing. ‘Bryn Celli Ddu’ takes its name from a Neolithic burial chamber in Wales, aligned so the summer solstice sunlight reaches its back wall - the sun turning up again as its own recurring character. And ‘An Sí Gaoithe (Return)’ is a reworking of a Vale & Stone title, old fragments reprocessed into something new - "a bit like composting."

Soda Lite is the recording project of Alex Last, a gardener and composer working from Lutruwita on unceded Palawa land. Their music moves through field recordings gathered directly from the island's own biomes - coastline, forest, alkaline lake bed - alongside slow, warbling synth work, built less as backdrop than as document: proof of a specific place, at a specific time, being listened to closely. Past records have taken their titles and themes from geology and land relationships as often as botany - Aqua Solar Cura, Earthbound, Vale & Stone - so a plant with its own mineral-adjacent etymology (soda, found in dried alkaline lakebeds; lite, from the Greek for stone) suits the pairing.

Hazy, unhurried ambient escape Hidden Hour feels less like an album and more like a collection of small, deliberate pauses from Los Angeles-based Cynthia Bernard. The 18 tracks add up to an album exactly an hour long, and each one is tied to a specific place, be that a bridge, a mountaintop in Los Padres, a friend's tea hut in Mendocino, and you can hear that groundedness in every choice, from glockenspiel to piccolo guitar to lap steel. Collaborations with Liom and Dimming blend in seamlessly to Marine Eyes' first solo release on her own label, Cloud Collecting, and it carries the mark of someone able to soundtrack stillness with real beauty.

Acclaimed, Swedish composer, producer and live artist Sebastian Mullaert, and Georgian electronic artist Tamarma (Tamara Davitashvili), are set to release the deeply personal and genre-fluid album ‘Holds the Sky’ on the 25th September via Awesome Soundwave, the label curated by Christopher Coe and Carl Cox.

Spanning ambient, experimental and alternative electronic forms, alongside a set of dancefloor-oriented reworks that expand the project’s sonic spectrum, at its core, the album is the result of an unusual artistic convergence that traces back to 2020. Tamarma entered Mullaert’s successful In Bloom mentorship programme on a scholarship, and over a year-long deep exploration of album creation, her work revealed a rare clarity and emotional depth.

One piece in particular became the catalyst. Developed further through Mullaert’s 4 step studio process, it unfolded into a full length album collaboration. What began as a single composition has since grown into an album that documents an organic and intuitive exchange between two distinct artistic voices.

The result is less a collection of tracks than a continuous unfolding; a dialogue shaped by trust, listening and shared curiosity. Rather than aiming for a fixed genre position, the album operates as a living process: a meeting point between tradition and experimentation, between voice and synthesis, between two artists allowing something larger to emerge through their collaboration.

With compositions such as the chiming ‘Being Colours’ and hypnotic ‘Holds The Sky,’ Mullaert and Tamarma have created a body of work that resists easy categorization. The album moves through intimate, meditative passages and more rhythmically driven moments, always anchored in a sense of presence and emotional immediacy. The flickering beats of ‘Winnow’ and ambient manifestations of ‘Lost In Dimension’ and ‘Field of Us’ add a sense of tranquillity, stillness and convergence.

Tamarma’s voice carries both a personal and cultural depth throughout the album, while remaining fluid and responsive to the moment. The result is a sound that feels both intimate and spatial, where voice, texture and atmosphere are closely connected. Her Georgian musical heritage combined with Mullaert’s open-ended electronic exploration, allows something beautiful to emerge, shaped by listening, space and a sense of something larger than either artist alone.

Widely celebrated in the electronic music community, Mullaert has spent the last three decades moving beyond the boundaries of electronic music, from shaping the sound of cult duo Minilogue to creating the fully improvised global platform, Circle of Live, which has seen him perform and collaborate with artists such as Mathew Jonson, Âme, Amp Fiddler, Aurora Halal, Speedy J, Sam Barker, Dorisburg, Move D, Sleep D, Kuniyuki, Pantha du Prince, Leafar Legov, Wayne Snow, Laurence Guy, VRIL, Neel and Erika.

Initially making a name for himself in the world of techno, his performances have moved fluidly between environments, from underground spaces including Berghain’s Panorama Bar to festivals around the world, and venues including the Barbican, London, where he has appeared alongside artists including Joep Beving, Laura Misch and JakoJako. Platforms such as ARTE have featured his performances, placing his work within a broader European cultural context, while support from Resident Advisor and Boiler Room reflect his continued presence within the core of electronic music culture. He has received a Swedish Grammy and the P3 Guld award from Swedish National Radio.

His 2020 album ‘Natthall,’ developed in collaboration with Tonhalle Orchestra Zürich and performed with Subchamber Ensemble, saw Mullaert enter the world of contemporary composition, and merged electronics with chamber music and improvisation. The album was later named among the top post classical releases of the year by BBC Music Magazine.

A new documentary film by Ableton, set for release this summer, captures Mullaert’s Circle of Live project through a performance at Brighton Dome in the UK, featuring Mullaert and electronic artists Clark and Rival Consoles. The film offers a rare insight into the inner workings of collective improvisation at a high artistic level, further cementing Mullaert’s role as a leading voice in contemporary live electronic practice.

Tamara's background is rooted in the landscapes and traditions of Georgia. Raised near the Caucasus Mountains, classically trained in piano and shaped by years as a jazz vocalist, her work carries traces of Georgian polyphonic singing and a strong connection to nature and place. Her transition into electronic music is not stylistic but transformational; a recontextualisation of heritage into new sonic forms.

‘Holds The Sky’ will be available on vinyl and digitally on the 25th September via Awesome Soundwave. The digital release includes three exclusive album track reworks from Mullaert.

The Disco Express presents Best of 2026 - a deluxe, special edition 12" pink vinyl celebrating six of our favourite records from another landmark year on the label.

Showcasing the breadth of The Disco Express sound, the compilation journeys through funk-fuelled disco, jackin’ house, soulful grooves and peak-time dancefloor energy, bringing together some of the standout moments from our 2026 catalogue.

Featuring music from Make It Disco, Bustin’ Loose, MGR Mike, Ayce & Spirit of House, LEFTI, La Felix and more, Best of 2026 captures a label continuing to push forward while staying firmly rooted in the spirit of disco.

From the feel-good vocal energy of “What You Gonna Say” and the funk-driven swagger of “Less Struggle, More Hustle”, through to the 70's inspired “The Movers”, the soulful lift of “Stronger” and the irresistible drum rhythms of “Muchacho” and “Run It Up”, this is music made first and foremost for the dancefloor.

The music featured on Best of 2026 has already picked up support from some of the world’s most respected selectors, including Roger Sanchez, Danny Rampling, Marco Carola, Jamie Jones, Joseph Capriati, Paco Osuna, Claptone, Danny Krivit, Sam Divine and Arthur Baker, alongside many more.

Pressed on limited edition pink vinyl, Best of 2026 is a snapshot of The Disco Express in full motion.

Original disco for 21st century dance floors.

And this train ain't slowing down anytime soon…

Blume presents two pieces composed in 1970 by the American pianist and composer David Tudor (1926-1996), one of electronic music's most important pioneers, for the Pepsi-Cola Pavilion, a unique artist-designed and programmed space for Expo '70 in Osaka, Japan, created by Experiments in Art and Technology (E.A.T.). Pepsibird and Anima Pepsi deploy electronic technology as a means to experience sound in ways that are anything but matter of fact, rendering liberated environments within and through which one might democratically express and commune. Viewed through the lens of what was, is, and might have been, they offer the tools for time travel: an unmediated encounter with radical, optimistic ideas that gave way to the complex cultural landscape of our time.

Initially trained on organ and then piano, Tudor emerged as a leading figure within New York's musical vanguard after his groundbreaking 1950 performance of Stefan Wolpe's Battle Piece and the American premiere of Pierre Boulez's Second Sonata. Within less than a year he had joined the Merce Cunningham Dance Company as its accompanist, a role he kept until his death, and began one of his most lasting creative relationships with John Cage, who would state that his entire output between 1951 and the end of the 1960s was written with Tudor in mind. Christian Wolff, Earle Brown, Morton Feldman, Sylvano Bussotti, Mauricio Kagel, and Karlheinz Stockhausen all wrote works for him during the 1950s and '60s. Through indeterminacy and chance-based methods, Tudor was noted for radically intervening with the works he played, often making them entirely his own, and it was this same singularity of vision that led him to gradually abandon the piano in favor of electronic process, through which he began working as a composer in his own right.

His engagement with electronics dates to the early 1950s and Cage's Project for Music for Magnetic Tape. By the following decade the pair had moved to live electronics, with Tudor rendering works like Cartridge Music and Variations II through contact microphones and complex systems of feedback and amplification. Before modular synthesizers existed, he designed and built his own electronics, often with engineers from Bell Laboratories, producing dozens of unique instruments and processing tools that helped lay the groundwork for the technological needs embraced by most electronic musicians ever since. A clear marker of his emergence as a composer came in 1966 with 9 Evenings: Theatre and Engineering, where he premiered Bandoneon! (a combine), turning the cavernous performance space into a feedback instrument and a total environment. The event led directly to the founding of E.A.T. the following year by the engineers Billy Klüver and Fred Waldhauer, alongside Robert Rauschenberg and Robert Whitman.

Among the most ambitious of E.A.T.'s projects was the Pepsi-Cola Pavilion, for which Tudor composed four pieces between March and April 1970: Pepsibird, Anima Pepsi, Pepscillator, and Microphone. Together with Forrest "Frosty" Myers, Robert Whitman, the sculptor and filmmaker Robert Breer, and the architect John Pearce, he was tasked with the design and function of the building: a 120-foot diameter steel and polyvinyl dome, shrouded in mist and fog and lit in the evenings by a square of intense blue-white xenon light. Tudor worked with Gordon Mumma and Fred Waldhauer on a unique sound system capable of processing and variable distribution through 37 speakers, controlled both by automated means and by the performer, and with Lowell Cross on a sound-activated laser deflection system inside the pavilion's mirrored performance hall.

Both pieces are an advanced form of musique concrète: libraries of tape recordings, live mixed and processed through the pavilion's sound console and distributed through 8 channels of stationary and rotating patterns designated by Tudor's instructions (small circle, great circle, large rhomboid, spiral, small triangles, small ovals). Pepsibird is focused upon a physical interiority, its source tapes being recordings of the brain wave activity of humans and animals: cat's eye, nerve firing, bats, EKG, alpha waves, a modified nightjar. Recorded in situ in 1970 and mixed down to stereo, it retains a striking sense of the space and ambience that Tudor achieved in performance. For more than eighteen minutes he merges subtle textures and pulses, at times resembling birdsong, within a blanket of vast, resonant ambience of subaquatic density, foreshadowing the relationship to the natural world of later works like Rainforest IV (1973).

Anima Pepsi is centered on the exterior: field recordings that Tudor made of animal and insect sounds (mosquitoes in a jar, a fly on flypaper, a wasp chewing, a beetle walking) and a mix of human and animal sounds that he called the "funny tape". Where Pepsibird deploys interior sounds in ways that allude to the natural world, Anima Pepsi pushes the sounds of nature and humanity toward the otherworldly through the clear presence of electronic sounds and processing, moulding detailed, pointillistic patterns of abstract sonority into gauzy blankets of ambience and space.

The collaboration did not last: less than a month after the opening, Pepsi withdrew its support, fired E.A.T., and disregarded Tudor's tapes, which according to accounts had to be smuggled out by staff, playing its own soundtrack in the pavilion for the rest of the Expo. Heard today, Pepsibird and Anima Pepsi anticipate many territories of later electroacoustic practice, from field recording to live processing, while the terms on which they were made, radically unpredictable, indeterminate, and experimental to the core, reconfigure what we've come to expect from electronic process, making one wonder if the past was ahead. Issued by Blume in a highly limited vinyl edition of 300 copies on red vinyl, with a 20-page LP-size booklet containing You Nakai's essay and newly commissioned liner notes by Bradford Bailey.

With his last three records all landing within a calendar year (2024-25), enigmatic Swedish producer Civilistjävel! (aka Tomas Bodén) is on a hot streak of releases, his singular vision increasingly ambitious and expansive. There are few artists working at this level so consistently right now, reinventing, revising and continually developing their language. Following on from 2025’s radically re-worked ‘Versions’ (of Mayssa Jallad’s ‘Marjaa…’), Bodén returns to break further fresh ground with his new album, ‘Älvgång’. Featuring contributions from Soccer Committee, Carrier and guest (aka Jabu’s Jasmine Butt), ‘Älvgång’ foregrounds a more brittle and insistent rhythm-based sound, whilst comprising his most broad-ranging collection of material to date.


‘Älvgång’ grew out of a series of sketches made from late ‘24 and throughout the whole of ‘25 at Stockholm’s renowned EMS Studios, which gave Boden free rein to its extensive collection of vintage analogue equipment and rare modular synthesizers such as the Serge and Buchla systems. As a loose framework of tracks began to take shape, so did a reflection of sorts, on family and foundations, underpinned or influenced by sounds that drifted into Tomas consciousness around this time - ancient Swedish pastoral music, Georgian lithurgical chants, gongs, chimes. An idea settled into place, a dedication to his Grandfather, as the earlier release Fyra Platser (tr. ‘Four Places’) was to his Grandmother. Älvgång is grounded with the sense of time and place of an old family photograph, with the tracks over each side bearing one of two names that are more or less the same location - Strinne was the old name for a this loose collection of villages. These days it is more commonly known as Bjärtrå. Metaphorically speaking, the river runs through both.


Civilistjävel! conjures so many adjectives and descriptors, ‘glacial’ and ‘ambient’ frequently among them - but while not altogether untrue, such terms belie the tension and drama so often present in Tomas’ music. Listening to ‘Älvgång’ is not a passive experience. The eight tracks here feel like a patchwork of memories that bathe in the same ethereal, otherworldly glow of Tarkovsky’s polaroids’.


The machine pulses that dominate this landscape are reigned in and tempered by a human hand; lithe, untethered coils, breathing in and out. ‘Strinne Ett’ sets out with purpose, sensing awe and wonder through the murk, but as the final tone unfurls like a question mark, another chapter begins, unfolding/building like a Tarjei Vesaas novel. These lyrical, abstract miniatures combine to reveal a wider context, fragile humanity standing alone against nature.


Guest appearances on Civilistjävel! records have become a regular occurrence (including recent collaborations with Mayssa Jallad, Laila Sakini, Cucina Povera, Thomas Bush, Eldon + Withdrawn), but are used sparingly and with increasing precision. On ‘Strinne Tre’ Mariska Baars’ (Soccer Committee) voice feels like a balm, a clearing. But as her simple, three-word incantation drifts further into fog, the meaning changes, and her words seem to curdle. Carrier’s beats widen the parameters on ‘Strinne Fyra’, a skittering promise that builds tension then refuses to release it; all false starts, Photek gongs, and trinkling modulars. Jabu’s Jasmine Butt pulls all the threads together for the final track, Thomas Tallis’ ghost walking over offset machine impulses, that work against their own symmetry.


Side two begins inquisitively, scanning bleached, alien surroundings, its sparse pads recalling Aphex Twin’s ‘Selected Ambient works Vol 2’. 'Bjärtrå Två’ picks up the baton from ' Strinne Fyra’ with a ruptured Simmons SDS200 analogue drum synth set free from its shackles, the rhythm eventually slotting into the spaces that were hiding in plain sight. What follows seems like an epiphany; ‘Bjärtrå Tre’ is achingly beautiful, a euphoric, winding ascent that leads to devotional plainsong. ‘Bjärtrå Fyra‘s final unheralded shift feels both tragic and haunting.

After almost twenty years of releasing music, Sven Tasnadi finds himself circling back to some of the sounds that first drew him into house music. Explorer was written at home following a longer break from producing and after moving out of his studio, a change of setting that coincided with a shift in priorities. "The tracks on this EP came together at home after a longer break from music and after I moved out of my studio," he explains. "Musically they are very deep and minimal, at times almost meditative. They were inspired by a new chapter in my life as well as my never-ending love and connection to artists like Lawrence from Smallville and Frank & Tony from Scissor and Thread."
That sense of returning to something runs through the whole record. For much of Tasnadi's career, producing and DJing were closely connected, with many releases naturally shaped by the club. Things have changed. "DJing is no longer my main focus, so I can dedicate myself to these deep and minimal sounds again, free from pressure or expectations," he says. "In a way, after almost twenty years of releasing music, things have come full circle for me."
"Atlas (Chapter 1)" and "Atlas (Chapter 2)" grew from the same initial idea but followed separate paths during production. Chapter 2 came first, while Chapter 1 emerged later from a variation Tasnadi discovered while the track was still essentially a loop. "I was still looking for the right theme for the original idea when another version suddenly opened up," he recalls. He saved that variation for later so he could stay focused on the first version. When he returned to it, the two had developed distinct enough identities to stand independently. Their shared DNA is still audible in the restrained rhythms, slowly shifting details and the way small changes carry much of the movement.
The title track moves further into dub techno, another longstanding passion for Tasnadi. "Explorer is almost a classic dub techno track," he says. "Subtle movements within a constantly repeating pattern create a particular atmosphere. It feels like the track could just keep going forever." It is a patient approach to repetition that he connects to artists such as Moritz von Oswald and his friend Daniel Stefanik.
"Megasektor", one of the first tracks Tasnadi made at home with a new equipment setup, brings the EP into deep house territory. "To me it's almost classic deep house, or at least how I define deep house for myself." Warm, compact and gently propulsive, it provides a natural closing point for a record that is ultimately less about changing direction than reconnecting with an instinct that has always been there.
Explorer captures Tasnadi at a point where making music has become more personal again. The four tracks come from following ideas for their own sake and from rediscovering the deeper, more minimal sounds that have stayed with him throughout his career.

Melissa Weikart and her piano have proceeded through life in step, from her early classical


training to the experimental practice that defines her work today, a blending of sounds and forms that has never been so clear—and so fully realized—as on her new album, Contact. Across twelve shifting and evocative tracks that examine the connective tissue binding us to ourselves and others, the Franco-American musician’s voice and piano navigate personal and emotional terrain with clarity and nuance, forging a rich dialogue between artist and instrument, artist and self, and artist and listener.


Winner of the 2022 Nancy Jazz Pulsations emerging artist award and the instrumentalist prize at the 2023 La Défense National Jazz Competition, Weikart has released two EPs and an album as a solo artist, and one EP and an album—Surprise and Secret—with her electronic duo Beatrice Melissa. A student of jazz and ’70s folk-pop, and a keen lover of improvisation since her time at the New England Conservatory in Boston, Weikart has always conjured the confessional candor of the singer- songwriter in her music, even as she dispenses her lyrics across rich, shifting, dreamlike tableaux.


On Contact, written and arranged entirely by Weikart (aside from “New angles”), she pushes her sound further than ever before. The album is animated by a pressing need for connection, observing what brings us together and what drives us apart, and the life-saving revelations that emerge along the way. The album’s opener, “Crash,” is a dreamy telephone-hour ode, a message in a bottle, to connections new and old. On the wistful “Mesurer le vent,” Weikart conjures Debussy or Ravel, layering contrasting sounds like an Impressionist painting. The title track begins as a showcase of Weikart’s frank lyricism, a splice-reel of missed connections and wasted time, then glides into a hazy, euphoric galaxy of pleas, circling around her thesis—“I wanted to make contact”—that ushers us into “The Intersection,” a song that recalls her the beginning of her career, when it was just Weikart and her keys. “Appétit.e” is built around a sample of her down-the-hall neighbor’s drumming—another subtle, affecting gesture toward proximity and connection—while pulsating synths reminiscent of Air lend the track an unsteady atmosphere. On the Carpenters-inspired “Expectations,” Weikart muses on the relationship patterns, universal and specific, that have always been a hallmark of her songwriting.

The psychedelic “L’amour de construit” is a slow-motion fall down the rabbit hole, as Weikart
considers the way her own emotions are captured and commodified by the confining ways we think about love. The interlude—“L’amour pt. 2”—finds her near the end of that trip, shouting into the void as a last-ditch effort to rescue herself from the fall. The drums near the end of the interlude warn us that there may be no cushion for, until she is saved, again, by the power of revelation, on the confident, resilient “Not Right”—on which a show-stopping, frenetic conversation between singer and piano is gracefully interrupted by a rush of transcendent strings, lifting her back up.

On solid ground anew, “New angles,” featuring Manu Delta, creates a percussion-less groove that relies on experimental synth sounds. The 11-o’clock stunner “Catching up”—composed in a church—meets the singer in a state of ecstatic confession, bringing her to the formative memory that propels “Bicycle,” the album’s closer. Younger, more wide-eyed, she reflects on her move from Boston to Strasbourg, those early days, when Weikart had no other companion than that loyal hunk of scrap metal that took her to the shores of her own soul. She seems to suggest, on “Bicycle,” that a backward-glance is not always troublesome, not always anxiety-producing, but can be grounding: a reminder of where we come from, so that we can keep moving forward.

Stoked to announce the debut record by Faulsk on Ruff Kutz!

Sometimes life can feel cyclical and having the first solo release on the label by someone other than myself had to be the right choice, it just so happened to be the producer from Tāmaki Makaurau / Auckland, which is where I started my lifelong obsession with Electronic music.

Shortly after playing a gig together at Whakamana in late 2024, we started exchanging tunes and I immediately wanted to put a release together with the first track he sent.. The release also features 2 collaborative tracks with myself and consists of 4 deep psychedelic grooves across the tempo ranges, built with the sound system in mind. This is an outrageous debut EP, and I am stoked to have it on Ruff Kutz!

Whilst having a low social media profile and only a few tracks released into the wild, Faulsk seems to have carved out a honed in sonic identity. Mixing Techno and Dub production techniques whilst still having swagger and depth that appeals to the bass heads. Expect expertly crafted soundscapes, interesting loopy grooves, lush evolving pads/stabs and low end wizardry. Genre - Faulsk, just how we like it.

Galvanize was the first track to build the EP with a relentless 4x4 groove, perfectly balanced low end and washy atmospherics, the track gradually evolves to show that less is more sometimes - with it's use of stripped back restraint and negative space to create energetic mood shifts.

On the A2, the first collaboration track Exhalation slows the tempo to 100 BPM for some kind of bass mutation straight from the underworld. This one taps into the tense atmospherics of Galvanize whilst cranking up the intensity with evolving drones and razor sharp percussion to sit amongst the dense soundscape.

The title track on the flip, is a 9 min roll out, reminiscent of early Forest Drive West. The subtle modulation and dubbing on musical parts draws you in and is a nice juxtaposition to the crunching percussion, militant groove and precise low end. Chugging away at 115 BPM, this is a versatile track to inject some kinetic energy into your local underwater dancehall.

Closing out on the B2 we have another collaboration. Upping the tempo to the mid 120s, Retrospect sinks deeper into hypnotism with polyrhythmic grooves and an unresolving feel which creates steady momentum, coupled with lush and evolving synth work which take the track into serenity. Regulate your sound system.

One for the heads!

Nicola Conte & Gianluca Petrella’s 2021 brilliant collaborative jazz dance album People Need People channelled a vision of togetherness and used the universal language of music to elevate our spirit during these trying times. This vision can’t be more relevant today and the album’s legacy is kept alive with the same spirit of collaboration that distinguished the project.

“Inner Light” - featuring Raashan Ahmad on vocals - is the first song from the album chosen for a series of reinterpretations of the project that will be released throughout 2022. Joaquin Joe Claussell needs no introduction, the Body & Soul founder and Sacred Rhythm label honcho is a true legend and purveyor of spirituality – a cosmic messenger that brings us two versions of “Inner Light”; his work here is not to be solely intended as a remix but, as the title suggests, delivers two new proper versions of the original song.

This EP is the first in a trilogy of 12” releases that will also feature further reinterpretations of tracks taken from the “People Need People” album, by none less than Anthony Nicholson, DJ Spinna and Tall Black Guy!

You know the pattern: someone calls their album "Balearic," and you immediately expect chill-out terraces, pan-flute samples, and the umpteenth return of the Café del Mar sunset. Devi G. refuses this reflex almost maliciously. The title is a trick—an invitation to disappointment for those hoping for postcard exoticism. What is actually being negotiated here is erosion, but that of the body itself: the abrasion one inflicts upon oneself in the excess of the night, when partying turns into wear and tear, and a rush becomes a graze that only becomes visible in the morning. No backdrop, then, but a wound one has voluntarily acquired.

Instead of the usual Ibiza xylophones, Devi G. digs into the rift between idyll and wear. The result reads like a séance—less José Padilla, more as if Kevin Martin had re-recorded a Manuel Göttsching record on a dying four-track deck. The target area lies somewhere between the waterlogged ambient sketches of Huerco S. and the faded dub-afterglow of Actress, but Devi G. remains consistently on his own, grainier frequency.

Balearic Abrasions (title track) opens without haste, demanding almost without impatience: no motif, no rhythmic handhold, just a slowly tilting balance between warm texture and rough surface. The grain never feels forced—it is not a lo-fi costume, but an integral part of the statics themselves. Where other ambient producers strive for perfection, Devi G. consciously seeks the breaking point. Rhythm remains a tool, never an ambition. Those expecting quick resolution will be disappointed; those willing to listen will receive a depth effect that is rarely this vivid.

Exit Through Thee Gift Shop tips into harder territory: dub-techno reduction meets industrial edge, carried by a stoic kick drum that knows no mercy. Metallic textures slice through the sub-bass, while repetitive chords hypnotize like a defective loop. Central to this is a rare Terence McKenna recording, which functions less as spoken-word ornamentation and more as a disruptive spirit between memory and media archaeology. The title—Banksy reference included—turns this into a biting punchline: radical electronic abstraction positioned against the hyper-commercialized art world.

Morning Depth pushes the claustrophobia further, somewhere between post-industrial and deep-sea dub. The track refuses any peak-time logic, preferring to disintegrate into itself, subcutaneously, methodically. At the end, a casual, almost banal vocal sample (“i defiantly prefer chocolate”) breaks into the cool machinery—a small, profane fissure that makes the coldness of the rest of the piece all the more apparent.

Desiré Algorithmic is the album's most calculated moment: a stoic, repetitive bassline as a foundation, topped with fragile melody fragments that flash like glitches in faulty code. The title reads like a promise from nightlife—a figure that suggests much and delivers nothing, because behind the façade there is simply nothing, only simulation. The track carries exactly this principle: promise without substance, desire without body, just rendering. Only in the final third does a melancholic saxophone break into the sterile structure—organic, imperfect, and for that very reason more credible than everything before it. It is the moment in which the real briefly flashes through the surface of the dummy before it closes again.

All-inclusive Residue concludes the album as sedimentation rather than dramaturgy: dub-techno remnants, industrial patina, salty ambient surfaces that settle rather than compose. The refusal of consumption as a sonic principle—brittle, stubborn, with a gravity that lingers long after.

Verdict: Balearic Abrasions is not easy listening with a sea view, but an exercise in patience and friction. The restraint with which Devi G. avoids climaxes will frustrate some—for everyone else, that is exactly where the record's strength lies. No sunset. Rather, what remains on the rocks afterward.