Search:let s go outside

They Call Us The Lucky Ones is a road-worn portrait of modern Americana — songs about movement, memory, love, and survival, exploring the space between freedom and consequence where highways replace homes and connection becomes the true measure of success. The album tells stories of outsiders and drifters, chosen family and lost friends, broken systems and restless ambition — and the ghosts we carry no matter how far we run. Yet for all its hard-earned perspective, the record carries an undeniable sense of hope: a clarity that comes from a life lived in motion, the humor found along the way, and the simple joy of playing music with people you trust. It’s a record that knows how to have a good time without losing its soul. This collection of ten songs finds Ryan Bingham at his best — where life isn’t always about perfection or redemption, but about connection. Because no matter how far you go, how fast you run, or how loud the music gets, all that matters is the people and stories you carry with you along the way.

They Call Us The Lucky Ones is a road-worn portrait of modern Americana — songs about movement, memory, love, and survival, exploring the space between freedom and consequence where highways replace homes and connection becomes the true measure of success. The album tells stories of outsiders and drifters, chosen family and lost friends, broken systems and restless ambition — and the ghosts we carry no matter how far we run. Yet for all its hard-earned perspective, the record carries an undeniable sense of hope: a clarity that comes from a life lived in motion, the humor found along the way, and the simple joy of playing music with people you trust. It’s a record that knows how to have a good time without losing its soul. This collection of ten songs finds Ryan Bingham at his best — where life isn’t always about perfection or redemption, but about connection. Because no matter how far you go, how fast you run, or how loud the music gets, all that matters is the people and stories you carry with you along the way.

Ronnie Davis is another mighty Jamaican singer, whose talents have been greatly overlooked. His rootsy yet soulful voice have been in demand by many of Jamaica's producers, and have graced their catalogues over the decades, yet outside of the close reggae circles he has remained a closely guarded secret.

Born Ronnie Davis, in 1950 (Savannah La Mar, Jamaica). His singing career began in the 1960's and like many aspiring young singers, the Talent contests taking part around the Island, was his first introduction to the music scene. This led to him joining the vocal group, 'The Tenors'.  Who shortly after his arrival, released their debut 'The Whole World is a Stage'. This was the beginning of a run of Jamaican 7'' releases that did quite well in the domestic marketplace. But Ronnie had set his sights on a solo career,which came to fruition in the early 1970's, with two big hits for him in the guise of 'Won't You Come Home' and 'Stop Yu Loofing'. Running on through to the mid 1970's with such hits as 'Jah Jah Jehovah','Forget Me Now', 'On and On' and 'Babylon Falling'. Building up to the 1976 classic, 'It's Raining'.

Around this time Ronnie's path would cross with Keith Porter and with his childhood friend Roy Smith they would form one of Jamaica's foremost vocal groups 'The Itals'.  A group who would run until the 1990's and evolve into 'Ronnie Davis and Idren'. Ronnie's releases are very sort after among the reggae aficionados and any tune carrying his vocal talents rarely
disappoint. We have compiled some rare roots dubs to many of his finest cuts. Such gems as 'Chasing You', 'What You See is What You Get', his take on the timeless cut 'Tribal War', 'Tell You' and the a fore mentioned smash 'It's Raining'. A version of Gregory Issac's 'Love Overdue' is also present. Ronnie cut an album worth of material with Mr Issac's, testimony surely to Mr Davis's standing in the Reggae community.

Let’s hope that this release spreads the gospel according to Mr R. Davis, a little wider.  A wicked set by one of Jamaica's finest .....

Respect Jah Floyd.

Calibre announces his new album 'Tricklemore Sea', set for release on vinyl and digital on 1st May via Signature Recordings.

A deeply personal and exploratory body of work, the album moves through ambient, shoegaze, electronic, blues and folk, all subtly shaped by the low-end sensibility that has defined his music for decades. It resists easy categorisation, reflecting an ongoing interest in blending bass culture with forms that sit outside it. Following the release of 'They Want You' at the end of 2025, this new project marks a clear shift in tone. Where that record leans into intensity and forward momentum, 'Tricklemore Sea' turns inward, occupying a more introspective space. Featuring entirely his own vocals and production, it carries a more exposed and vulnerable quality.

The album has taken shape gradually, drawing from material written in the years after 'Planet Hearth'. Rather than forming around a fixed concept, it emerges as a collection of pieces connected by tone and instinct. Tracks move between simplicity and abstraction, with piano-led compositions sitting alongside field recordings, improvisations and bass-driven works. Ideas often begin quickly, then evolve over long periods of revisiting and reworking. His voice takes on a more central role throughout, bringing a heightened sense of vulnerability. Lyrics and delivery are often left open, allowing space for interpretation. His process remains fluid and instinctive, with ideas written quickly, revisited over time and combined across different periods.

Moments such as 'Little Blend' carry a quiet melancholia balanced with hope, while 'Free One' reflects on the pressures of contemporary life. The title track considers the scale of human existence within a wider universe, framing individual lives as small but meaningful within something larger. Elsewhere, 'Deflower' and 'Pigeon Luncheon' draw from recordings made in Berlin at the end of lockdown, capturing a sense of movement and return. Older material, including 'Living In Your Head' and 'Hyndsight', is recontextualised and sits naturally alongside newer work. Threads from his wider catalogue remain present. 'Able Son Dub' nods to longstanding reggae influences, while 'Bit Broken Stream' appears here in a downtempo form alongside its drum and bass counterpart from 'They Want You'. Tracks like 'United Pull' and 'Mizzle Mine' lean further into abstraction, using minimal language and space to suggest mood rather than define it.

Over more than 30 years, Calibre has built a catalogue that moves across drum and bass, ambient, dub, techno, house, jazz, soul, blues and folk. His work is marked by restraint, quiet melancholy and a singular approach that continues to evolve. Complete authorship remains central, with all vocals, lyrics and production on both 'They Want You' and 'Tricklemore Sea' created solely by him. This breadth extends into his DJ sets, where he draws heavily from his own catalogue, often performing entirely self-produced material across a wide range of tempos and styles. His ability to move between contexts has seen him play at Boomtown, Houghton and Atonal Berlin, delivering distinct sets while maintaining a clear identity.

With 'Tricklemore Sea', that identity leans toward stillness, introspection and emotional depth. It is a record that prioritises feeling over definition, holding space for ambiguity while remaining grounded in a strong sense of authorship. Each release carries an element of exposure, a moment of vulnerability in letting the work go. At its core, the album seeks to capture something fleeting but recognisable, a sense of beauty that sits just beyond language.

He describes it simply: "The river inside of me flowing into the sea."

Mutual Rytm spawns new sub-label ‘Versus’ with debut EP from longtime techno associates Regent and Chontane. Continuing to expand its creative world, SHDW’s Mutual Rytm imprint now introduces ‘Versus’ - a new sub- label crafted for creative symbiosis between two artists across one shared release. Opening the series with authority, Regent and Chontane man the debut offering - two close friends and native Berliners who have been shaping techno for more than 15 years. Both long-standing members of the Mutual Rytm family, having released multiple times here before, the pair have always created music informed by life immersed in their local scene. Having both mutually influenced one another over the years, here they present their shared interpretation of techno with individual artistic DNA, forming a unified sound that represents the best of both worlds. Regent goes first, leaning towards functional, anthemic, dance-floor-focused techno. ‘Ephemera’ is tight, minimal but forceful; ‘Slow Burn’ has synth tension rising through the dark, next to glitchy percussion; and ‘Afterglow’ lets in more light, bringing otherworldly synths that hang above the groove and consume your focus. Chontane then explores a more musical and unconventional approach. ‘Plaxaric’ is supple, warm, and deep techno that tunnels into an abyss. ‘Grounding Factor’ is just as economical in design, but with introverted funk and evolving layers of sound. ‘Mental Lab’ spins out into complex rhythms inspired equally by IDM, jungle, and techno. It’s a mental workout as well as a physical one. Both artists add a pair of digital bonus tracks. Regent’s ‘Control Room’ and ‘Rarely Enough’ deliver elevated, hypnotic tools, before Chontane’s ‘Escore’ and ‘Outside In’ bring extroverted drum patterns along with contrasting melodic unease

UILTY RAZORS, BONA FIDE PUNKS.



Writings on the topic that go off in all directions, mind-numbing lectures given by academics, and testimonies, most of them heavily doctored, from those who “lived through that era”: so many people today fantasize about the early days of punk in our country… This blessed moment when no one had yet thought of flaunting a ridiculous green mohawk, taking Sid Vicious as a hero, or – even worse – making the so-called alternative scene both festive and boorish. There was no such thing in 1976 or 1977, when it wasn’t easy to get hold of the first 45s by the Pistols or the Clash. Few people were aware of what was happening on the fringes of the fringes at the time. Malcolm McLaren was virtually unknown, and having short hair made you seem strange. Who knew then that rock music, which had taken a very bad turn since the early 1970s, would once again become an essential element of liberation? That, thanks to short and fast songs, it would once again rediscover that primitive, social side that was so hated by older generations? Who knew that, besides a few loners who read the music press (it was even better if they read it in English) and frequented the right record stores? Many of these formed bands, because it was impossible to do otherwise. We quickly went from listening to the Velvet Underground to trying to play the Stooges’ intros. It’s a somewhat collective story, even though there weren’t many people to start it.
The Guilty Razors were among those who took part in this initial upheaval in Paris. They were far from being the worst. They had something special and even released a single that was well above the national average. They also had enough songs to fill an album, the one you’re holding. In everyone’s opinion, they were definitely not among the punk impostors that followed in their wake. They were, at least, genuine and credible.

Guilty Razors, Parisian punk band (1975-1978). To understand something about their somewhat linear but very energetic sound, we might need to talk about the context in which it was born and, more broadly, recall the boredom (a theme that would become capital in punk songs) coupled with the desire to blow everything off, which were the basis for the formation of bands playing a rejuvenated rock music ; about the passion for a few records by the Kinks or the early Who, by the Stooges, by the Velvet mostly, which set you apart from the crowd.
And of course, we should remember this new wave, which was promoted by a few articles in the specialized press and some cutting-edge record stores, coming from New York or London, whose small but powerful influence could be felt in Paris and in a handful of isolated places in the provinces, lulled to sleep by so many appalling things, from Tangerine Dream to President Giscard d’Estaing...
In 1975-76, French music was, as almost always, in a sorry state ; it was still dominated by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. Local rock music was also rather bleak, apart from Bijou and Little Bob who tried to revive this small scene with poorly sound-engineered gigs played to almost no one.
In the working class suburbs at the time, it was mainly hard rock music played to 11 that helped people forget about their gruelling shifts at the factory. Here and there, on the outskirts of major cities, you still could find a few rockers with sideburns wearing black armbands since the death of Gene Vincent, but it wasn’t a proper mass movement, just a source of real danger to anyone they came across who wasn't like them. In August 1976, a festival unlike any other took place in Mont-de-Marsan – the First European Punk Festival as the poster said – with almost as many people on stage as in the audience. Yet, on that day, a quasi historical event happened, when, under the blazing afternoon sun, a band of unknowns called The Damned made an unprecedented noise in the arena, reminiscent of the chaotic Stooges in their early adolescence. They were the first genuine punk band to perform in our country: from then on, anything was possible, almost anything seemed permissible.

It makes sense that the four+1 members of Guilty Razors, who initially amplified acoustic guitars with crappy tape recorder microphones, would adopt punk music (pronounced paink in French) naturally and instinctively, since it combines liberating noise with speed of execution and – crucially – a very healthy sense of rebellion (the protesters of May 1968 proclaimed, and it was even a slogan, that they weren’t against old people, but against what had made them grow old. In the mid-1970s, it seemed normal and obvious that old people should now ALSO be targeted!!!).
At the time, the desire to fight back, and break down authority and apathy, was either red or black, often taking the form of leafleting, tumultuous general assemblies in the schoolyard, and massive or shabby demonstrations, most of the time overflowing with an exciting vitality that sometimes turned into fights with the riot police. Indeed, soon after the end of the Vietnam War and following Pinochet’s coup in Chile, all over France, Trotskyist and anarcho-libertarian fervour was firmly entrenched among parts of the educated youth population, who were equally rebellious and troublemakers whenever they had the chance. It should also be noted that when the single "Anarchy in the UK" was first heard, even though not many of us had access to it, both the title and its explosive sound immediately resonated with some of those troublemakers crying out for ANARCHY!!! Meanwhile, the left-wing majority still equated punks with reckless young neo-Nazis. Of course, the widely circulated photos in the mainstream press of Siouxsie Sioux with her swastikas didn’t necessarily help to win over the theorists of the Great Revolution. It took Joe Strummer to introduce The Clash as an anti-racist, anti-fascist and anti-ignorance band for the rejection of old-school revolutionaries to fade a little.

The Lycée Jean-Baptiste Say at Porte d’Auteuil, despite being located in the very posh and very exclusive 16th arrondissement of Paris, didn’t escape these "committed" upheavals, which doubled as the perfect outlet for the less timid members of this generation.
“Back then, politics were fun,” says Tristam Nada, who studied there and went on to become Guilty Razors’ frontman. “Jean-Baptiste was the leftist high-school in the neighbourhood. When the far right guys from the GUD came down there, the Communist League guys from elsewhere helped us fight them off.”
Anything that could challenge authority was fair game and of course, strikes for just about any reason would lead to increasingly frequent truancy (with a definitive farewell to education that would soon follow). Tristam Nada spent his 10th and 11th unfinished grades with José Perez, who had come from Spain, where his father, a janitor, had been sentenced to death by Franco. “José steered my tastes towards solid acts such as The Who. Like most teenagers, I had previously absorbed just about everything that came my way, from Yes to Led Zeppelin to Genesis. I was exploring… And then one day, he told me that he and his brother Carlos wanted to start a rock band.” The Perez brothers already played guitar. “Of course, they were Spanish!”, jokes their singer. “Then, somewhat reluctantly, José took up the bass and we were soon joined by Jano – who called himself Jano Homicid – who took up the rhythm guitar.” Several drummers would later join this core of not easily intimidated young guys who didn’t let adversity get the better of them.

The first rehearsals of the newly named Guilty Razors took place in the bedroom of a Perez aunt. There, the three rookies tried to cover a few standards, songs that often were an integral part of their lives. During a first, short gig, in front of a bewildered audience of tough old-school rockers, they launched into a clunky version of the Velvet Underground's “Heroin”. Challenge or recklessness? A bit of both, probably… And then, step by step, their limited repertoire expanded as they decided to write their own songs, sung in a not always very accurate or academic English, but who cared about proper grammar or the right vocabulary, since what truly mattered was to make the words sound as good as possible while playing very, very fast music? And spitting out those words in a language that left no doubt as to what it conveyed mattered as well.
Trying their hand a the kind of rock music disliked by most of the neighbourhood, making noise, being fiercely provocative: they still belonged to a tiny clique who, at this very moment, had chosen to impose this difference. And there were very few places in France or elsewhere, where one could witness the first stirrings of something that wasn’t a trend yet, let alone a movement.

In the provinces, in late 1976 or early 1977, there couldn’t be more than thirty record stores that were a bit more discerning than average, where you could hear this new kind of short-haired rock music called “punk”. The old clientele, who previously had no problem coming in to buy the latest McCartney or Aerosmith LP, now felt a little less comfortable there…
In Paris, these enlightened places were quite rare and often located nex to what would become the Forum des Halles, a big shopping mall. Between three aging sex workers, a couple of second-hand clothes shops, sellers of hippie paraphernalia and small fashion designers, the good word was loudly spread in two pioneering places – propagators of what was still only a new underground movement. Historically, the first one was the Open Market, a kind of poorly, but tastefully stocked cave. Speakers blasted out the sound of sixties garage bands from the Nuggets compilation (a crucial reference for José Perez) or the badly dressed English kids of Eddie and the Hot Rods. This black-painted den was opened a few years earlier by Marc Zermati, a character who wasn’t always in a sunny disposition, but always quite radical in his (good) choices and his opinions. He founded the independent label Skydog and was one of the promoters of the Mont-de-Marsan punk festivals. Not far from there was Harry Cover, another store more in tune with the new New York scene, which was amply covered in the house fanzine, Rock News (even though it was in it that the photos of the Sex Pistols were first published in France).
It was a favorite hang-out of the Perez brothers and Tristam Nada, as the latter explained. “It’s at Harry Cover’s that we first heard the Pistols and Clash’s 45s, and after that, we decided to start writing our first songs. If they could do it, so could we!”
The sonic shocks that were “Anarchy in the UK”, “White Riot” or the Buzzcocks’s EP, “Spiral Scratch” – which Guilty Razors' sound is reminiscent of – were soon to be amplified by an unparalleled visual shock. In April 1977, right after the release of their first LP, The Clash performed at the Palais des Glaces in Paris, during a punk night organised by Marc Zermati. For many who were there, it was the gig of a lifetime…
Of course, Guilty Razors and Tristam were in the audience: “That concert was fabulous… We Parisian punks were almost all dressed in black and white, with white shirts, skinny leather ties, bikers jackets or light jackets, etc. The Clash, on the other hand, wore colourful clothes. Well, the next day, at the Gibus, you’d spot everyone who had been at this concert, but they weren’t wearing anything black, they were all wearing colours.”

It makes sense to mention the Gibus club, as Guilty Razors often played there (sometimes in front of a hostile audience). It was also the only place in Paris that regularly scheduled new Parisian or Anglo-Saxon acts, such as Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits, and Johnny Thunders who would become a kind of messed-up mascot for the venue. A little later, in 1978, the Rose Bonbon – formerly the Nashville – also attracted nightly owls in search of electric thrills… In 1977, the iconic but not necessarily excellent Asphalt Jungle often played at the Gibus, sometimes sharing the bill with Metal Urbain, the only band whose aura would later transcend the French borders (“I saw them as the French Sex Pistols,” said Geoff Travis, head of their British label Rough Trade). Already established in this small scene, Metal Urbain helped the young and restless Guilty Razors who had just arrived. Guitarist for Metal Urbain Hermann Schwartz remembers it: “They were younger than us, we were a bit like their mentors even if it’s too strong a word… At least they were credible. We thought they were good, and they had good songs which reminded of the Buzzcocks that I liked a lot. But at some point, they started hanging out with the Hells Angels. That’s when we stopped following them.”

The break-up was mutual, since, Guilty Razors, for their part, were shocked when they saw a fringe element of the audience at Metal Urbain concerts who repeatedly shouted “Sieg Heil” and gave Nazi salutes. These provocations, even still minor (the bulk of the skinhead crowd would later make their presence felt during concerts), weren’t really to the liking of the Perez brothers, whose anti-fascist convictions were firmly rooted. Some things are non-negotiable.
A few months earlier (in July 1978), Guilty Razors had nevertheless opened very successfully for Metal Urbain at the Bus Palladium, a more traditonally old-school rock night-club. But, as was sometimes the case back then, the night turned into a mass brawl when suburban rockers came to “beat up punks”.

Back then, Parisian nights weren’t always sweet and serene.

So, after opening as best as they could for The Jam (their sound having been ruined by the PA system), our local heroes were – once again – met outside by a horde of greasers out to get them. “Thankfully,” says Tristam, “we were with our roadies, motorless bikers who acted as a protective barrier. We were chased in the neighbouring streets and the whole thing ended in front of a bar, with the owner coming out with a rifle…”
Although Tristam and the Perez brothers narrowly escaped various, potentially bloody, incidents, they weren’t completely innocent of wrongdoing either. They still find amusing their mugging of two strangers in the street for example (“We were broke and we simply wanted to buy tickets for the Heartbreakers concert that night,” says Tristam). It so happened that their victims were two key figures in the rock business at the time: radio presenter Alain Manneval and music publisher Philippe Constantin. They filed a complaint and sought monetary compensation, but somehow the band’s manager, the skilful but very controversial Alexis, managed to get the complaint withdrawn and Guilty Razors ended up signing with Constantin with a substantial advance.

They also signed with Polydor and the label released in 1978 their only three-track 45, featuring “I Don't Wanna be A Rich”, “Hurts and Noises” and “Provocate” (songs that exuded perpetual rebellion and an unquenchable desire for “class” confrontation). It was a very good record, but due to a lack of promotion (radio stations didn’t play French artists singing in English), it didn’t sell very well. Only 800 copies were allegedly sold and the rest of the stock was pulped… Initially, the three tracks were to be included on a LP that never came to be, since they were dropped by Polydor (“Let’s say we sometimes caused a ruckus in their offices!” laughs Tristam.) In order to perfect the long-awaited LP, the band recorded demos of other tracks. There was a cover of Pink Floyd's “Lucifer Sam” from the Syd Barrett era – proof of an enduring love for the sixties’ greats –, “Wake Up” a hangover tale and “Bad Heart” about the Baader-Meinhof gang, whose actions had a profound impact on the era and on a generation seeking extreme dissent... On the album you’re now discovering, you can also hear five previously unreleased tracks recorded a bit later during an extended and freezing stay in Madrid, in a makeshift studio with the invaluable help of a drummer also acting as sound engineer. He was both an enthusiastic old hippie and a proper whizz at sound engineering. Here too, certain influences from the fifties and sixties (Link Wray, the Troggs) are more than obvious in the band’s music.

Shortly after a final stormy and rather barbaric (on the audience’s side) “Punk night” at the Olympia in June 1978, Tristam left the band ; his bandmates continued without him for a short while.

But like most pioneering punk bands of the era, Guilty Razors eventually split up for good after three years (besides once in Spain, they’d only played in Paris). The reason for ceasing business activities were more or less the same for everyone: there were no venues outside one’s small circuit to play this kind of rock music, which was still frightening, unknown, or of little interest to most people. The chances of recording an LP were virtually null, since major labels were only signing unoriginal but reassuring sub-Téléphone clones, and the smaller ones were only interested in progressive rock or French chanson for youth clubs. And what about self-production? No one in our small safety-pinned world had thought about it yet. There wasn’t enough money to embark on that sort of venture anyway.

So yes, the early days of punk in France were truly No Future!

Bristol experimental band SUGAR HORSE are delighted to announce that their third album, Not A Sound In Heaven, will be released on 10th April 2026 via Fat Dracula Records.

To celebrate the news, the band are sharing the bruising lead single ‘Secret Speech’, available to stream on all good digital service providers from 12th February 2026.

Also announced today are a run of April 2026 UK album headline tour dates and an appearance at StrangeForms Festival 2026, with tickets on sale now (see below for full listings).

“We are fortunate enough to live in what is generally known as ‘The West’,” says front man Ash Tubb of the lyrical themes behind the new track. “I say fortunate with gritted teeth, because I know—as I’m sure the reader knows—that living in the West isn’t always rosy. The vast majority of people struggle everyday to feed, clothe and house themselves. Let alone receive adequate healthcare, schooling and workers’ rights.”

“We are, however, where all the world’s wealth is hoarded. We are at the centre of Empire. The people outside of this empire—those of the Global South—have had their resources extracted and their populations exploited by our own governments, with very little given back in return. This won’t go on forever. It will inevitably end, as all great empires do.”

“We in The West have a choice to make in the meantime; either help create a new, fairer world, or let the greed of our ruling classes become the undoing of all of us.”

The first glimpse of new material from the quartet, ‘Secret Speech’ starts as Not A Sound In Heaven means to go on—a politically-charged wrecking ball of a song that smashes its way through the often unbelievable chaos and brutality of the 21st century with vitriolic malice.

How do you capture the machinations of the geo-political industrial war machine—and all the horrors that go with it—in the studio, without seeming trite or crass? That’s the question that Sugar Horse have posed themselves on their forthcoming third album Not A Sound In Heaven, and they must surely be one of the only bands in existence capable of delivering on just that premise with both musical substance and cutting philosophical insight.

“Ever since I was born I can remember visions of war, famine, and death being beamed directly into my living room via the magic of television,” says Tubb of the record. “These visions were accompanied by newsreader narratives designed to either humanise or dehumanise the people involved. We humanise our government’s allies and dehumanise their enemies. This is taken as common sense, or even wisdom to some degree. People watch the news and accept it as fact, simple and true.”

“As a person gets older they move in one of three different directions with this acceptance of reality; They embrace what they’re being told, they fall into a kind of trust free nihilism or they learn that there are deeper narratives at play.”

“Not A Sound In Heaven is an aged acceptance of the latter. An acceptance of sitting at the centre of a global empire of both military and economic dimensions. An acceptance that the stories we’re told as a nation, or what’s generally in the zeitgeist, isn’t necessarily reality itself.”

“How does a person cope with the weight—and, frankly, the guilt—of a society that perpetuates such distinct inequalities? A society that thinks a bit of killing abroad is fine, as long as it improves the lives of people at home. You can see why so many choose to embrace it. Hell, nihilism seems pretty sensible. Once a person decides upon pursuing a degree of truth however, things get a bit depressing. Beyond depressing...maddening.”

“This album explores this kind of breezy, frivolous subject matter in a manner that will no doubt be uplifting to the listener and massively financially rewarding for the artist.”

The new album follows on from their standalone AA single ‘What’s Your ETA? Let’s Have A Tear Up’/‘Would You Like Me To Be The Cat?’ which was released late last year as a surprise double drop.

So… what are we actually supposed to tell you about HCL? Honestly, it’s a pretty nice story. A collaboration the way it’s meant to be.

HCL stands for Horkheimer, Consti aka Zeitstill, and Delenz — not hydrochloric acid, but liquid music. One shared idea of sound, without a fully mastered plan. Most of the tracks were born during long studio sessions — long nights, extended jams, ideas taking shape naturally. No big concept, just working it out together and seeing where things go (or not).

After the first two HCL tracks found their way onto various samplers — including the 25 Years of Live at Robert Johnson compilation and Freeride Millennium’s own Queer Base Vol. 2 — it felt like the right moment to take the next step and release the first pattern. Not as a conclusion, but more as a checkpoint. This is far from the end. There are more patterns, more sessions, more ideas already waiting to be published.

Describing the genre is, as always, not that easy. It drifts somewhere between techno and all the other things orbiting around it. Purely electronic music, rooted in the club, but not obsessed with functionality. In a way, it reminds us of the early 2000s — deep, slightly twisted, hypnotic, driving but never aggressive. Music that takes its time, creates space, and pulls you in rather than pushing you forward.

For moments that are meant to last — tracks you don’t want to hear mixed out. For getting lost on the dancefloor, for forgetting the noise and madness outside for a while, for drifting into yourself and letting time fly. Honest club music, built for immersion.

Enjoy the music. Enjoy yourself. Love.

Yours, HCL

Best known as the frontman of the influential indie rock trio Dinosaur Jr., J Mascis has also been a solo artist, producer, and film composer. Getting his start as a founding member of the hardcore band Deep Wound, Dinosaur Jr. was founded in 1984 and the group emerged among the most highly regarded alternative rock. By introducing volume and attack in his songs Mascis shed the strict limitations of early 1980’s hardcore, becoming an influence on the burgeoning grunge movement. Mascis’ body of work continues to inspire a generation of guitar players and songwriters today.


In 1997, Dinosaur Jr. disbanded and Mascis released More Light, his first recording under the moniker J Mascis + The Fog. Members and collaborators of The Fog have included Mike Watt (Minutemen / fIREHOSE), Ron Asheton (The Stooges), Robert Pollard (Guided By Voices), Kevin Shields (My Bloody Valentine), Dave Schools (Hard Working Americans / Widespread Panic) and Kyle Spence (Harvey Milk).

2026 Repress

Whether in the studio or the club, Daphni has always been a pursuit where Dan Snaith lets the music find its own path. With Cherry this is more evident than ever, this sense of the tracks as objects with life and desires outside of Snaith’s control has now become a driving force in their creation. "There isn't anything obvious that unifies it or makes it hang together" Snaith says, "I think it was good that it was made without worrying about any of that. I just made it."
Recorded over a prolonged period, Snaith let the music go where it wanted to go. It wasn’t until he put everything he’d been tinkering with together that he realised what he had. "It's weird that when the tracks were put in what felt like the right order it took on a new coherence" he says, "where it pings quickly from one idea to the next and, at least for me, hangs together in way that feels unified. Maybe because it's hard to avoid the musical fingerprints I leave on the music I make, whether I want to or not."
The component parts have this same sense of independence, the essence of Daphni always present over music that is more free-wheeling than it’s ever been, almost escaping Snaith's grasp as it tumbles and spirals. "As is often the case when you're working quickly and intuitively, new pieces of equipment played a part" he says.
New gear and ways of working meant Snaith was able to sit at the centre of the music but let things get away from him a bit more as equipment began to make its own decisions before reeling it back in to suit his purposes, or as he puts it "getting the snake to eat its own tail".

Limited to 250 copies !

The Deadheads had never had much luck with spaceships. Their first mission had ended in a catastrophic engine failure, leaving them adrift in deep space for weeks. This time, their craft was hardly more reassuring. A hodgepodge of outdated technology and shoddy repairs made it more of a floating death trap than a reliable cruiser. As they began their descent toward the strange planet, the hull creaked and rattled, sending a wave of dread through the crew.

"Hold on," Matt's voice crackled over the intercom, without much conviction, as if he himself doubted they would make it out alive. Outside, a thick, grayish atmosphere swirled ominously, while the planet's gravity became far stronger than anticipated.

“Fuck, we’re gonna burn at the entrance!” M yelled, his hands flailing on the console as sparks flew from the control panel. The ship’s sensors were completely jammed, and the navigation system flickered intermittently, like a dying light. Below, the planet’s surface was a tangle of lava rivers and jagged rock formations, the kind of place no sane person would ever land. But the Deadheads had never pretended to be. They lived in a state of constant emergency.

As the descent intensified, the alarms blared. On the bridge, the screens lit up with red warnings and flashing messages: "SYSTEM ERROR," "UNSTABLE TRAJECTORY," "SUIVITY SYSTEM COMPROMISED." The lines of code scrolled by too quickly to be read, while a mechanical voice repeated relentlessly: "Imminent impact. Structural integrity at twenty percent."

The once pristine shell of the vessel began to disintegrate, with shards of metal breaking away and disappearing into the atmosphere.

With a final, piercing screech, the ship crashed onto the planet's surface, sending up a cloud of dust and debris. The crew was violently thrown from their seats, stunned but barely alive. They struggled to their feet amidst the wreckage, the ship reduced to a charred shell around them.

"Well," M said, wiping the dirt off his suit with a grimace, "at least the air is breathable." Matt scanned the hostile expanse stretching before them and smiled slightly. "Perfect. Let's hope we have better luck with the planet than with our ships."

With that, the Deadheads gathered their equipment and headed into the unknown, while the remains of their ship slowly sank into the unstable soil of the planet.

Lillian King's debut album In Your Long Shadow is out October 24th. It is about letting the wind in, Lake Michigan in the winter, and the silence of a long summer evening. And really it's about the grief of losing her dad, Neil King Jr. When her dad died in September 2024, grief permeated every facet of Lillian's life. The loss is felt in everything, but especially when doing the things her dad loved the most -- the simple everyday good things that make life worth living: cooking, walking the longer way to work, swimming in cold water. In the throes of grief it feels impossible to find anything that doesn't just make you sadder, but when Lillian did find those things, she grabbed onto them. Soon it was clear that the best coping mechanisms weren't gin and tonics, but talking to her mom and sister as much as possible, and producing an album. The album arrangement came together in a couple of weeks as Lillian brought bandmates and friends Robert Salazar and Nick DePrey new and old songs to build on. Robert played the drums, while Nick played keys (with a smattering of bass and guitar). The process was collaborative and intimate, and only got better when Jack Henry (producer of albums by Friko and Free Range) joined to record and mix it. Some of the songs on this album are years old, including "Underwater", which Lillian wrote one late night in Montreal a decade ago. However, most came together in the months approaching recording."Dragging Dirt" was written just a week before getting into the studio. Despite the bummer material, the recording process was spontaneous and light hearted. The song "Echo" came together unexpectedly during a break between songs. In the midst of recording In Your Long Shadow, Lillian had concerns about making a "grief album." Her sister Frances, as usual, had the right advice: "Every album from now on is going to be a grief album." In Your Long Shadow is about loss as much as it is about living with it. Take it outside on a walk.

Sometimes artistic genius can be hiding in plain sight. Innovators and sonic pioneers that are stalwarts of the 140 dubstep scene can be taken for granted with just how damn good they are.

With DDD favourite Abstrakt Sonance’s second LP on the label ‘Nature of Things’, he is taking his organic fuelled, harmonically intuitive, bass driven madness to new heights.

With his signature blend of primitive percussion, scattered chops and savage sub frequencies - Abstrakt’s record is an 11 track tour-de-force of production mastery, impish tendency and true artistic expression.

To single out particular tunes on the album seems a fallacious exercise, given the strength in-depth of the sequence of work - with guest appearances scattered in from producers Wraz., Coltcuts and Outsider, alongside the stunning vocals of Sahala and bars from the godson of grime, Saskilla.

Let us just tell you that each one will have you flying through the jungle like tarzan on speed, with enough adrenaline to fend off any silverback gorilla and emotional guile to lead a troop of chimpanzees.

Existential musings over the Nature of Things can be confusing at best - but with Abstrakt Sonance it equates to sonic and visual clarity.

Careful though, he could still pop you with the Snipa.

Limited black vinyl. One pressing only. 700 copies worldwide. NON-RETURNABLE.

Full colour sleeve with unseen pics of Ron Geesin in his studio with Marianne Faithful, who was
supposed to provide the spooky voices but was so (allegedly) smashed out on various drugs she had no voice.

Wow! So you’re telling me Ron Geesin made this kooky electro jazzy score to a really unusual
British folk horror weirdy film that is also sometimes called Madhouse Mansion or Asylum of
Blood?

So what we have here is a unique and unreleased British horror score like no other - because
Ron Geesin made it and also because he used trad ideas and modern sonic developments at the
same time. So it’s bonkers. Half the pressing will go immediately to the Trunk mailing list, the
last 300 for the rest of the world. Be quick…

Coke Bottle Clear vinyl. Jun 25, 2021 (EST) CD MRG755cd 673855075525 $6.00 Jun 25, 2021 (EST) LP - Black MRG755lp 673855075518 $11.00 Dec 02, 2022 (EST) LP - Coke Bottle Clear MRG755lp-dlx-C1 673855075556 $12.50 TOTAL Quietly Blowing It was written and arranged by Taylor in his home studio_his 8' x 10' sanctuary packed floor to ceiling with books, records, and old guitars_as he watched the chaotic world spin outside his window. "Writing became a daily routine," he explains, "and that was a ballast for me. Having spent so much time on the road over the past ten years, where writing consistently with any kind of flow can be tricky, it felt refreshing. And being in my studio, which is both isolated from and totally connected to the life of my family, felt appropriate for these songs." Between March and June, Taylor wrote and recorded upwards of two dozen songs_in most cases playing all of the instruments himself_before winnowing the collection down and bringing them to the Hiss band. In July, the group of musicians, with Taylor in the production seat, went into Overdub Lane in Durham, NC, for a week, where they recorded Quietly Blowing It as an organic unit honed to a fine edge from their years together on the road. "We all needed to be making that music together," he recalls. "We've all spent so many years traveling all over the world, but in that moment, it felt cathartic to be recording those particular songs with each other in our own small hometown."

Following their two previous releases, the group--led by the charismatic vocalist Ms. Kennedy and her brilliant musical partner Ondre J (known as Gregory Porter's longtime Hammond organist) - presents a work that fuses funk, soul, and jazz with gripping pop songs and heartfelt ballads, all driven by groove, depth, and Ms. Kennedy's unmistakable voice. The album will be released on CD and LP via Leopard Records. Born from genuine conversations, spontaneous ideas, and a desire to move people through authenticity, 'Humanity' was recorded in the band's Brooklyn home base. The album tells stories of joy and sorrow, self- doubt and self- love, loneliness and connection.

With 'Humanity', Kennedy Administration deliver a record that feels like a soul party, an embrace, and an existential reflection all at once. It's music for overthinkers, outsiders, smartphone scrollers, dancers, and anyone who wants to feel a little less alone. Highlights include Mark Lettieri's (Snarky Puppy) fiery guitar solo and a moving duet with US gospel singer Doobie Powell. Having herself overcome a period of homelessness during the pandemic and rediscovered her voice through music, Ms. Kennedy turns this album into a profoundly personal yet universal statement.

“In a concert, I show something with a beginning, a middle and an end. But, there is no end. Of course, there is no end. Because I am the music, and I am still here.” - Sophie Agnel

‘Learning’ - Sophie Agnel’s first solo LP, feels like the dark, physical inversion of her excellent ‘Song’ which came out on Relative Pitch earlier this year. Sinking her unique sound into vinyl for the first time, the LP arrives as Agnel recovers from a brain tumour - a shocking discovery that will require Agnel to start again with the piano. It’s a terrifying prospect, but Agnel has been here before, having reorientated herself almost entirely away from her early classical training over the last 4 decades of her work.

‘When I was young I had very good ears, oriole absolute. Then later I began to make strange sounds with my piano, to do different kinds of music. I was more interested in the sounds than the melody, for example. I remember once I sat down in a shop to try to read the scores of Schubert and there was a light emitting a very strong bzzzzzzz. And I couldn't listen to my oriole internal - I couldn't read the score. I was entirely subjugated by the sound of the light. And I understood that something had changed. Ten years before I could read and not hear the light. Now I understood that my ears were completely different. I was more open to the sounds of life.”

Born in Paris in the 60’s and playing her parents piano as soon as she could stand up, Agnel quickly grew tired of the classical world. What frustrated her was the strange disconnect between the frame of the piano and its keyboard - a weird boundary that seemed to form some hushed code of etiquette. “The first thing I put inside the piano was a plastic goblet. I’d seen a few pianists do it: Fred Van Hove, for example, put rubber balls inside his. But what didn’t appeal to me was that there seemed to be no link between the pianos outside and inside.”If you see Agnel play now, the body of her piano is littered with fish tins, ping pong balls, wooden blocks - not that you’d recognize their sounds. Having absorbed the language of the European avant-garde, Agnel is known for pulling the piano’s interior outside of itself by tipping her handbag into it. But these ‘strange sounds’ don’t just come from Cage - they also share the poetic force of Cecil Taylor and ‘Learning’ demonstrates that Agnel’s work on the piano's keyboard is just as important as what she’s littered on its strings. The record lets loose her ability to unleash a formidable sound mass and then rope it back to one single, clarifying note. With one hand, Agnel plays 88 tuned drums and on the other an enormous guitar - with the LP rotating through oncoming trains, and blues harmonica and feedback. It’s single minded stuff, borne out of a dedication to a wholly personal language of gesture, accumulation and deft reduction. “Maybe when I’m 80 I will not need anything,” Agnel says in a recent film made at her home. “I will do the same but with one note, and one finger. Maybe it's enough.”

‘Learning’ arrives in a reverse board sleeve designed by Jereon Wille. Recorded live at Cafe OTO by Billy Steiger on 6th June 2023 and 4th June 2024. Mixed by James Dunn and Benjamin Pagier. Side B edited by Benjamin Pagier. Mastered and cut by Loop-O. Front photograph by Aimé Agnel. Typography and layout by Jeroen Wille.

GATEFOLD DOUBLE VINYL WITH SPOT UV FRONT COVER

Following the skewed-unself-help-brilliance of ‘Sus Dog’ (which marked his first full foray into songs, abetted by Thom Yorke), and its companion piece ‘Cave Dog’, Chris Clark returns to the dancefloor’s simple, but no less affecting pleasures, with ‘Steep Stims’.
“I found it hard to pull away from listening to this record, hard to stop making it, I had to remove myself from the Stims and stop enjoying it at some point. The album feels like nature to me. I love it when electronic music feels more naturalistic than acoustic music, more potent, that’s the devil’s trick, the promise of electronic music.” comments Chris.
“I used an old synth - the Virus on all of the tracks. I used it at Mess in Melbourne - run by my friend Robin Fox - I loved it so much I had to buy one when I got back to the UK, it took a while to find. They’re a bit clunky to program but make some of my most favourite sounds.”
‘Steep Stims’ marks a back-to-basics approach, invoking the early years of gung-ho creativity enforced by limitations in technology at the time. “Most of the tracks on this album capture the spirit of making music on old samplers, which don’t have much memory time”, explains Clark. “It reminds me of making ‘Clarence Park’, my first album, where I would have to finish tunes in the session, as they would be saved on floppy disks and I couldn’t easily go between tracks. This new record is just a few synths and a few choice sounds; the writing is the important thing.”
Made quickly, ‘Steep Stims’ reflects the immediate rave energy of his live show, but that’s not to say it’s basic floor fodder, as it’s rife with personality, synth magic, and knack for melody. Although swift and impressionistically captured rather than laboured over, it’s still formidably deft, with plenty of oddball weirdness lurking beneath the dancefloor.
Soft, orange, scorched, brutal, the opening track ‘Gift and Wound’ captures the classic dance music dread / awe / euphoria combo perfectly, before ‘Infinite Roller’ merges sparkly-minimalism with snarling bass and soft sines, which turn more dense and metallic as it progresses.
The melancholic smoke belch of ‘No Pills U’ gives strong classic vibrations, which is belied by its creation, made in just 20 minutes. “I love working quickly sometimes”, comments Clark. “Inspiration hits, rough and ready. It’s off the cuff but also screams ‘don’t gild the lily with nonsense, keep it simple keep it clean’”. Segueing into its elder brother, the piece becomes bigger and beatier on ‘Janus Modal’, where it permutates for over 7 minutes of fluttering, beatific club majesty.
At ‘18EDO Bailiff’ you inexplicably find yourself at a clearing, things have suddenly got much quieter. You enter a decrepit and eerie old house, and as you move through its unsettling interior, you arrive at ‘Globecore Flats’. A real piano tuned to 18 notes per octave gives the pair of tracks a haunted, olde worlde feel, which promptly gets eaten by a huge tech step tearout monster, birthing a strange but exotic beast.
The white hot ‘Blowtorch Thimble’ is all hooktasm-rave-hyper-amen-energy, whilst acidic flute leaps around like Ian Anderson on pingers throughout the catchily simple jump-up lurch of ‘Civilians’.
“‘In Patient’s Day Out’ is like some sort of Morricone-does-kraut-rock-with-drum-machines, but that’s probably just in my head” says Clark. “I made several versions of this then went with the early mix but cranked through some choice outboard because it just had something.”
Drumless, yet still full of exhilarating-big-trance-drama, ‘Who Booed The Goose’ flashes by in stroboscopic fast forward, then ‘5 Millionth Cave Painting’ gives a palate cleanser, letting “the virus with its delicious broken, luxurious reverb have a moment”, before ‘Negation Loop’ swoops down in all its glory, with Clark’s tweaked vocals leading deconstructed trance breakdowns, tape edits and brutal noisebursts.
An antidote to the bombast of its predecessor is ‘Micro Lyf’, which closes the set on a poignant note, of sorts. Muted staccato gives way to field recordings “that gradually put it in this outside space; alien in a meadow somewhere nameless. It feels like a sinkhole. The record kinda swallows itself up and then is gone”, ends Chris.

“sitting in the terminal at Barcelona airport, health safety warnings echo through empty architecture. feeling slow, and fast, out of sync with rituals and routines. structure and rhythm disintegrate into micro gestures appearing in random order, a daily psychedelia... amid all of the chaos and distraction in the last few years, it’s only through letting go that I've found solid ground to stand on.”

These are some of the experiences and reflections that gave shape to Slipstream, a hallucinatory mini-album by the artist PVAS and the fourth release on Objekt's label, Kapsela. Slipstream is an aural document of PVAS's interior life, conceived not as a grab-bag of DJ-friendly tracks (although it’s clearly inspired by the club) but as a single, delicately crafted artistic statement. The entire record is shrouded in a flickering haze, worn through by smudged breakbeats and wiry drum machines. “Wetland”, with its swampy percussion and crystalline arps, echoes T++ and Kraftwerk. The radiant incandescence of “Gathering Drift” recalls GAS or Monolake's “Hong Kong.” Sampled breakbeats dip and swerve asymmetrically through “Boba” and “Terminal”. Across the record, textures and voices are reshaped by PVAS's homemade algo-software, UMT, which, in PVAS’ own words, “reconstructs one audio file by sampling another, resulting in output that merges their aesthetic qualities, creating rhythm with non-rhythmic sound files and abusing the stereo field.” But the most striking union of technology and poetic self-exploration comes at the end of the record, in the title track, from words murmured through a classic vocoder:



“when i stop framing myself as a boundaried stone

immovable, and powerful, and heavy

when i stop figuring my deepest space as my own

something which i am solely responsible

i surrender, i surrender”



PVAS is Jordan Juras, a Berlin-based artist who grew up outside of Windsor, Ontario. He has released solo EPs on Isla and xpq?, and is half the duo NUG (3XL, West Mineral Ltd.). In addition to developing music software professionally, he has used his UMT software on records by Lyra Pramuk and Dylan Kerr. Slipstream was recorded from 2022 to 2025.

Written and produced by PVAS

Mixed by TJ Hertz

Mastered by Anne Taegert at D&M

Artwork and design by Brodie Kaman

Debut album by Cindy is aptly called I'm Cindy. Produced by Kai Hugo a.k.a. Palmbomen II. Vinyl comes with a 20-page handmade booklet, an individually signed and kissed handkerchief of Cindy (some of them even have her teardrops on them) and a huge fold-out poster! Who exactly is Cindy? If producer Kai Hugo used oblique strategies it would be this question that's been central to his past four years of musical output. First appearing on his 2015 LP Palmbomen II as the titular subject of the track Cindy Savalas, her life has become intertwined with the producer's. "Following that release, I made a music video for Cindy Savalas, where Cindy came to life through the portrayal by Blue LoLan,' Hugo explains. 'I really felt a connection with this character and went deeper into developing who she was and the world she lived in. The result was the creation of the LP Memories Of Cindy, where my goal was to reveal more about Carmel Vista, the town Cindy lived in. Afterwards, I imagined Cindy having her own 'lost' album, as if she had once released a record that was kind of forgotten.' I'm Cindy is altogether different though. It sits at an uncommonly explored intersection between Italo disco and shoegaze - Cocteau Twins and Slowdive are mentioned as influences and you can hear that in the blurred textures and hazy synths of the 13 tracks here. But Hugo also revels in a chance to use his self-created character as a conduit to explore his love of both mainstream pop and its more skewed forms. In many ways the record is as much LoL?n's. It was she who gave the character her voice - initially across 27 tracks recorded with the producer - but her own connection to Cindy runs deeper than that. 'It makes me really nostalgic thinking about everything Cindy went through, she and I have similar feelings' says the vocalist. 'Cindy is a mix of me and Kai so when I listen to the album I feel like I'm half entering Kai's head and half in mine, with a whole bunch of deep emotions, purity and loneliness that just makes me want to dance and cuddle with all my cats in a disco forest somewhere outside of Carmel Vista.'