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Power punks, Hot Milk, have announced their second EP, ‘I JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I’M DEAD” via Music For Nations.

It follows the success of the band’s first EP, 2019’s ‘Are You Feeling Alive?’, a fizzy collection of gutsy emo-pop which established them as one of the most exciting new bands in the UK. Their 2019 was a whirlwind year that saw them tour with Foo Fighters, Deaf Havana and You Me At Six, as well as playing some of the UK’s biggest festival stages.

The band were formed in 2018 by vocalist and guitarist duo, Han Mee and Jim Shaw, two friends who met working behind the scenes in the Manchester music scene. Yet they yearned to be in a band themselves. “We got to the point where we were why not? What else have you got to lose?” says Jim. “We thought, we can go for this or we can get to 60 and know we didn’t do right by ourselves.”

Debut EP, ‘Are You Feeling Alive?’, which was penned during a drunken songwriting session, was an effervescent refusal to settle for second best in life. “We’ve both realised that life you don’t get another face,” Han continues. “You get one face and then you’re done, and you will never exist ever again.”

That sense of not letting life slip through your fingers is at the core of Hot Milk’s punk-indebted ethos. And having taken a leap of faith to grasp their platform, the band, completed by bassist Tom Paton and drummer Harry Deller, aren’t about to let it go to waste. “Art is about your interpretation of your own experience,” adds Jim. “The first EP was written five years ago. We’ve grown up and realised who we are and what the world is like right now.”

‘I JUST WANNA KNOW WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I’M DEAD’, which was produced by Jim Shaw, is another vivacious call to arms, rammed with sharp hooks and huge, catchy choruses, to encourage everyone, everywhere, to follow their dreams. But elsewhere, the lyrics are more personal, with the band bottling the anxieties and frustrations of their everyday lives. ‘Woozy’ openly tackles depression, ‘Good Life’ takes on societal corruption and the distribution of wealth, while elsewhere the band address the pursuit of happiness in a modern world.

“These songs are honest,” says Han. “I have nothing to hide. Everyone’s on antidepressants these days. It’s the world we live in, it makes people sad. Capitalism. Is it broken? 100 per cent. I’m angry that the fact that we’re sold a world that actually doesn’t make your inner peace happy. Humans need love and community and a lot of the time, there is no love and the community has dissolved.”

“The anger resides in us at the unfairness of the world,” adds Jim. “Online communities are all about flexing and battling your peers to look or sound a certain way that is better than everyone else. It’s constant and it’s dangerous. You’re teaching kids that to be content, you have to be best. It’s a question again. Are you really living?”

“We’re angry, both politically and existentially in terms of the system we now live in. But also, we’re angry at the fact that we’re sad quite a lot,” continues Han. “But we’re trying to not just sit there and take it. We’re trying to fix it, by building a family through this band.”

Walk into any Hot Milk show and you will feel that sense of community. Through their honest lyrics and inclusive approach, the band say their aim is to create an “aggressively space safe” where fans are empowered to be themselves, “authentically and unapologetically”, as well as opening up a dialogue for people to talk. That will become clear later this year when the band get their chance to air the new material. This summer, they will return to Reading and Leeds Festivals, this time to play the main stage, as well as embarking on a headline UK tour in September. And believe, when the times comes to finally get back into those sweaty pits, these new songs will provide the perfect, life-affirming soundtrack.

“Life is fragile,” says Jim. “You can’t take things with you, but you can make the best memories. That’s the most important thing in life. Your currency is your memory.” “What you can take with you is something that absolutely makes the blood pump round your veins and gives you goosebumps,” agrees Han. “That’s what this band is to us. It’s our passion. That’s what this EP is about.”

Charlie Parr’s album, ‘Last of the Better Days Ahead’, is a collection of
powerful new songs about how one looks back on a life lived, as well as
forward on what’s still to come.
Its spare production foregrounds Parr’s poetic lyricism, his expressive, gritty
voice ringing clear over deft acoustic guitar playing that references folk and
blues motifs in Parr’s own exploratory, idiosyncratic style.
When it comes to what it all means, Parr says it best: “Last of the Better Days
Ahead is a way for me to refer to the times I’m living in. I’m getting on in years,
experiencing a shift in perspective that was once described by my mom as ‘a
time when we turn from gazing into the future to gazing back at the past, as
if we’re adrift in the current, slowly turning around.’ Some songs came from
meditations on the fact that the portion of our brain devoted to memory is also
the portion responsible for imagination, and what that entails for the collected
experiences that we refer to as our lives.
Other songs are cultivated primarily from the imagination, but also contain
memories of what may be a real landscape, or at least one inspired by vivid dreaming. The album represents one full rotation of the boat in which we
are adrift looking ahead for a last look at the better days to come, then being
turned around to see the leading edge of the past as it fades into the foggy
dreamscape of our real and imagined histories.”
“Like John Hartford jamming with St Francis of Assisi, Parr strikes a fine balance between immense generosity toward humanity and barely contained
outrage towards humanity’s tendency towards coldness and conformity.” 8/10
Uncut
“Hypnotic stories of low-key endurance and universal questions, like Raymond
Carver’s fiction set to a louch, crystal-clear soundtrack” **** Mojo

The core tenets of Morgan Wright's music have long tested club music's context; the rituals and customs that define it, and how each of those genres change once removed from their traditional settings.
It's a space Morgan Wright feels at home in; one where he's constantly asking questions of the structure club music resides within, and what it means to create a new space for familiar sounds. And over the course of his debut album, Class Tourist, Morgan has found new ways to elevate those same questions - whether by way of intention, or a pandemic-induced coping mechanism.
In Class Tourist, Morgan again borrows from familiar strains of the subgenres which have come to form his musical identity. This time, he fuses sounds of post-punk, IDM and breakbeat, hopeful they converge to form a bastardised rendition of the latter, with "Australiana" at its core.
It's a sound that was made possible by a change to his songwriting approach, after pivoting from a loop-based production style - one which he has applied to a slew of other projects, for the better part of five years - to one which lends itself to a more standardised, contemporary format.

Moving through the record, Morgan toys with musical tropes of contrast with a calculated refinement unheard throughout his previous work. The coalescence of melodic optimism and bleak, mournful soundscapes feature on Class Tourist again, as you would expect. But this time, contemporary structure - with the exception of a few songs - along with the features of label-mate, Purient, and frequent collaborator, ENDL355, breathe new life, and even a new genre, into Morgan's work.

Though most debuts are the culmination of a lifetime of influences
and experiences, few artists succeed in mapping their musical
journey quite as vividly as Baba Ali has on ‘Memory Device’.
Tracing his Nigerian heritage, an adolescence absorbing No Wave
and the hip-hop on NYC’s Hot 97, time immersed in the techno
scene in Berlin, and the experimental punk spirit of his current
base in London, ‘Memory Device’ is an enthralling introduction to a
musician who resolutely defies pigeonholing.
Written during lockdown and recorded with Al Doyle (LCD
Soundsystem, Hot Chip) in East London, ‘Memory Device’ is both
a dizzyingly inventive exploration of Baba’s complex musical DNA,
and a thought-provoking treatise on the collective angst of modern
existence; a dance record dealing in small ‘p’ politics that,
spiritually, has been three decades in the making.
It was after moving to London that he began writing new music as
a solo artist, with his debut EP, ‘Nomad’, released in 2017. Soon
after he met British guitarist Nik Balchin while they were working
together at a bar in Whitechapel. Nik brought with him an entirely
new set of references, ranging from LCD Soundsystem and the
Pixies to Suicide and Iggy Pop. The new collaboration resulted in
the February 2020 release, ‘This House’, an eclectic four-track
collection fusing funk, blues and soul and featuring production
from Jamie Hince of The Kills. In July the same year the duo
released an unofficial mixtape, ‘Rethinking Sensual Pleasure’,
which they wrote while locked down together at Baba’s parents’
house in New Jersey, having been temporarily stranded in the US
following their New York shows.
Today Baba describes this process of producing a longer body of
work as being akin to “ripping a Band-Aid off,” giving them the
confidence to begin writing their debut. Work on ‘Memory Device’
began shortly afterwards, culminating in the pair recording the
album between November 2020 and February 2021 with Al Doyle,
who was chosen for his vast experience operating at the
intersection between dance and rock music. There’s no question
that Baba is leading by example with ‘Memory Device’.

Though most debuts are the culmination of a lifetime of influences
and experiences, few artists succeed in mapping their musical
journey quite as vividly as Baba Ali has on ‘Memory Device’.
Tracing his Nigerian heritage, an adolescence absorbing No Wave
and the hip-hop on NYC’s Hot 97, time immersed in the techno
scene in Berlin, and the experimental punk spirit of his current
base in London, ‘Memory Device’ is an enthralling introduction to a
musician who resolutely defies pigeonholing.
Written during lockdown and recorded with Al Doyle (LCD
Soundsystem, Hot Chip) in East London, ‘Memory Device’ is both
a dizzyingly inventive exploration of Baba’s complex musical DNA,
and a thought-provoking treatise on the collective angst of modern
existence; a dance record dealing in small ‘p’ politics that,
spiritually, has been three decades in the making.
It was after moving to London that he began writing new music as
a solo artist, with his debut EP, ‘Nomad’, released in 2017. Soon
after he met British guitarist Nik Balchin while they were working
together at a bar in Whitechapel. Nik brought with him an entirely
new set of references, ranging from LCD Soundsystem and the
Pixies to Suicide and Iggy Pop. The new collaboration resulted in
the February 2020 release, ‘This House’, an eclectic four-track
collection fusing funk, blues and soul and featuring production
from Jamie Hince of The Kills. In July the same year the duo
released an unofficial mixtape, ‘Rethinking Sensual Pleasure’,
which they wrote while locked down together at Baba’s parents’
house in New Jersey, having been temporarily stranded in the US
following their New York shows.
Today Baba describes this process of producing a longer body of
work as being akin to “ripping a Band-Aid off,” giving them the
confidence to begin writing their debut. Work on ‘Memory Device’
began shortly afterwards, culminating in the pair recording the
album between November 2020 and February 2021 with Al Doyle,
who was chosen for his vast experience operating at the
intersection between dance and rock music. There’s no question
that Baba is leading by example with ‘Memory Device’.

Schneider TM is the multidimensional music project of Dirk Dresselhaus which has been operating since the mid 90's. His latest opus is also his first for release for Editions Mego.

With an extensive catalogue under his belt, one may wonder where this one takes us? The 8 of Space orbits the realm of "pop" more overtly than the project has done for 14 years, residing in the line of works that temporarily ended with "Skoda Mluvit" from 2006. In the age of scattered streaming listening habits The 8 Of Space champions the classic album format with connected tracks that act like chapters adding up to what could be framed as an 'audio-movie'. The 'plot' revolves around a post-dystopian landscape which posits the make up of reality in the future.

The vessel is electronic pop music but one which takes inspiration from the spirit of a multitude of musical forms absorbed into a trans human sound world where biological & technological elements complement each other (We are NOT The Robots!). The music unifies the analog world of acoustic and electric instruments with electronic & digital possibilities that range from heavily processed acoustic & electric guitars and bass, tube organ, analog modular synth units, acoustic drums and percussion, analog & digital drum machines & effect units, hardware and software processing. Experimental & extended musical techniques build a world of musical elements that is sometimes upside down and mirrored. Electric guitar becomes rhythm machine & modular system, voice becomes sound object & synthesizer, effects are used as instruments, acoustic guitars are being modulated by voices etc. Reality and illusion are getting mixed up. One can hear short moments of longer recordings in the tracks which are snapshots of bigger musical pictures that lurk behind what's actually audible. Generative music, audio spirals like clockworks create ever changing musical combinations; thrown-in sounds, polyrhythms & cascades based on the concept of chance attributed to the service of the SONG.

The lyrics are a key component. Holistic, associative poetry acts as interactive trigger points for the mechanisms of existence in times of a paradigm shift that are open to the listeners discretion. Autobiographical elements combine with science fiction and dreams, protagonists shift where the 'I' or 'me' is not necessarily the voice of the artist, nor even the same person. Alongside a more naturalised voice another protagonist appears represented by a processed voice. This character, named iBot, evolved around the start of the millennium and has appeared on some previous Schneider TM recordings. It can be seen as a post-human, or even a trans-human character, a combination of human & technology, uncertain of the future, which lends iBot it's melancholic tone.

In the opening song "Light & Grace" iBot appears in an advanced form of AI, which managed to hack & hijack a commercial space travel program (eg, Virgin Galactic) to invite those rich, who profited most from the destruction of planet earth, for a holiday trip into space to unknowingly fly them directly into the middle of the sun. In this episode it seems to have developed higher ethics than humanity itself with ambition to save the planet with as much of its cooperative life as possible."Light & Grace" serves as an intro / opener for this album to be followed by 7 other tracks featuring different windows of consciousness represented by diverse characters & protagonists.

All the elements on The 8 of Space, the music, sounds, vocals and artwork fit together as a whole, creating a dazzling electro pop future questioning it's own certainty. This is experimental electroacoustic pop music featuring glorious melodies dancing along human/machine voices, each track is a small universe that triggers the physical mind and tickles the subconsciousness.

Today, beloved DJ, producer and songwriter Lauren Flax announces her forthcoming EP, Out Of Reality out August 6 via 2MR. Much of Out Of Reality’s cohesion comes from Flax’s expansive production, using simple elements to craft intricate backdrops for the questions posed by her songs. On the EP’s titular track, Alejandra Deheza (School of Seven Bells)’s crystalline vocals are woven against a delicate tapestry of arpeggiated keys, sparse percussion and haunting cello. Watch “Out of Reality” here.

Detachment isn’t always detrimental; sometimes you have to step outside to get a better view. Lauren Flax knows this - as a DJ, producer and songwriter, her discography is notoriously genre-defiant, consisting of an impressive array of solo tracks, collaborations, and remixes. The most recent of these – her mesmerizing take on Pale Blue’s “Breathe” - saw her experimenting with a new style of writing. “I wanted to explore that sound more,” Flax explains, “more of a synth exploration, textures with less beats.” The pared-down songwriting approach lent itself to thematic considerations as well: she’d been thinking about the repetitive nature of the life cycle - the Indian concept of Samsara - and felt a general disappointment at humanity’s lack of progress. On her new EP Out Of Reality, she washes that disappointment in lush sonic hues, stepping outside the quotidien for a new perspective.

Though its themes span beyond the scope of our current socio-political moment, Out Of Reality feels, right now, like an especially tantalizing proposition. Pandemic-driven escapism has bred a new crop of otherworldly music designed to transport the listener somewhere better. But Flax isn’t interested in escapism for its own sake - there’s still work to be done here on Earth, after all. Instead, through a combination of live instrumentation and ethereal synths, Out Of Reality grants us a respite from the real so we can return to it with a clear head.

Arriving at a time of considerable uncertainty in the world, Son Lux's multi-album 'Tomorrows' is ambitious in scope and intent. Born of an active, intentional approach to shaping sound, the music reminds us of the necessity of questioning assumptions, and of sitting with the tension.

Ryan Lott, Rafiq Bhatia, and Ian Chang train their sights on volatile principles: imbalance, disruption, collision, redefinition. But for all of its instability, Tomorrows’ exploration of breaking points and sustained frictional places is ultimately in service of something rewarding and necessary: the act of questioning, challenging, tearing down and actively rebuilding one’s own identity.

The band remains audibly indebted to iconoclastic artists in soul, hip-hop, and experimental improvisation who themselves carved new paths forward. Distilling these varied influences, Son Lux searches for equilibrium of raw emotional intimacy and meticulous electronic constructions.

- Tomorrows I-III, triple physical album, released previously digitally only
- Featuring the singles “Plans We Made”, Only, Prophecy, Live Another Life and A Different Kind Of Love
- More than 90 minutes music on 3CD and 3LP

On the 11th May 2018 USM will release a vinyl (180 gram) and CD reissue of the Jay-Z's In My Lifetime, Vol. 1' and Vol. 2...Hard Knock Life' on 2LP.
- In My Lifetime, Vol. 1 is the second studio album by American rapper Jay-Z, released on November 4, 1997, by Roc-A-Fella Records and Def Jam Recordings. The majority of the production is handled by Puff Daddy's production team The Hitmen from the Bad Boy label, giving the album a generally glossier sound than its predecessor.
- Vol. 2... Hard Knock Life is the third studio album by American rapper Jay-Z. It went on to become his most commercially successful album, selling over 5 million copies in the United States. Vol. 2... became Jay-Z's first album to debut at #1 on the Billboard 200. The album won Grammy Award for Best Rap Album at the 41st Annual Grammy Awards.

oracle and audioMER. are honoured to announce the release of a new LP; Reading the City with music by oracle, Laszlo Umbreit & Mira Sanders.

In 2019 oracle invited artist Mira Sanders to interact with their practice through her writing. Due to the corona crisis, their shared working time couldn’t happen in the planned way:

“The writing project was originally planned as an exchange while travelling together one week on the Buratinas boat, navigating on the canals and rivers starting from Brussels. Due to the sanitary conditions with the Covid19, the trip together could not be realised or at least was complicated.

Instead of seeing the situation as an obstacle, I saw it as an opportunity to travel with them from afar. Me, living outside the city and them, inside. My question was ‘how, through their voices echoing with the urban spaces, will I imagine the city’s everyday life?’. Because one of the things that oracle’s practice does is to offer ways to perceive and encounter the city and its inhabitants.

For the texts I was inspired by the recordings oracle sent me every day during one week. Besides that, the book Invisible Cities written by Italo Calvino gave me a way of structuring my imagination.” – Mira Sanders

Following this artistic exchange and during a collaboration with sound artist Laszlo Umbreit, the idea of the record Reading the City was born. The existing recordings and the written sci-fi episodes by Mira Sanders functioned as a source of inspiration for the electronic sound composition Places, infiltrated by the original voices and city soundscapes. The recordings of the texts From Afar reflect oracle’s playful and spontaneous way of interacting with their given environment. From Afar is an invitation for the reader to immerse in the city while being in movement. Each track on this side has its own identity or colour, often in relation to what Mira’s text evoked, but this also happened in an empirical way, by trial and error.

Places is a composition in movement, following the idea of interaction with imaginary cities but regularly coming back to a presence of the workshop’s raw documentary sound. While being a carefully edited piece, it tries to keep a certain sense of immediacy and improvisation through semi-random dropping of heterogeneous sound materials in the timeline. Accidents are welcome. The arc drawn by the journey through different “places” is an interpretation of what can happen inside (and outside) when experiencing the oracle practice: being around them, imagining what was felt at different moments in the street, from a distance, preparing the itinerary in the city beforehand, talking about what oracle could be as a record and if it can exist outside the moment it happens.

Director David Lynch once said "I long for a kind of quiet where I can just drift and dream. I always say getting inspiration is like fishing. If you're quiet and sitting there and you have the right bait, you're going to catch a fish eventually. Ideas are sort of like that. You never know when they're going to hit you." Inspired by this quote in both name and spirit, Hollie Kenniff's The Quiet Drift is an ambient gallery of cloudlike synths, seraphic strings, echoing guitars, and other celestial textures guided to cohesion by Hollie's own wordless singing. Though the album certainly creates (and originates from) the kind of space where Lynch's proverbial "fish" can be caught, The Quiet Drift is a fitting title for Hollie's own history, both recent and distant. During the course of the album's creation, Hollie and her family moved cross-country from an island in Washington state, to an island in Maine before ultimately relocating to Canada. "As a child I visited Ontario year-round," she explains in her own words. She continues "More than any other landscape, I think the lake, rivers, and woods there left the most enduring impression on me. The landscape and pace of life of these places will always stay with me." But the reverberant spaces Hollie crafts need no physical headquarters. Instead of conjuring views of nature at the ground level, her sound more readily evokes a top-down perspective, with the distinct features of the land shrinking underfoot as the listener becomes untethered from geography altogether. The Quiet Drift belongs more to the liminal spaces between life and afterlife, memory and fantasy, landscape and dreamscape, than any mappable locale. Describing her formative years, Hollie says "As a dual US/Canadian citizen who spent my childhood in a rural town-- one that I haven't returned to in many years - I have a sense of not entirely belonging anywhere. When I was a teenager my close friends were male musicians, so I was also an outsider to the degree that they were wild and anarchic in a way that I wasn't. I was a quiet book reader and avid music listener who enjoyed being around a creative group. I was also a radio DJ for alternative and punk music throughout high school." In this light, The Quiet Drift attests that creativity is placeless, and calls into question the stereotype of artists as scene-centric city dwellers. Having come of age in the absence of metropolitan sensory overload, Hollie learned to spot the muse in nature, and within herself, instead of the echo chamber of a frenzied peer group. On The Quiet Drift Hollie Kenniff wholly escapes from such pop-culture feedback loops into transcendent, shimmering realms, and she brings the listener along with her. In this age in which we have all been called to reevaluate our relationship to indoor spaces, and seek refuge in the great outdoors, The Quiet Drift provides an apt soundtrack for such rebalancing.

Question everything. Consider your sources. Be wary of ulterior motives, insidious media narratives and even your own unconscious bias. Trust sparingly and try to make smart, informed choices. As the world slides further into ruin, it’s more important than ever to be vigilant and fight back. Luckily, Hacktivist are back to help cut through the noise and bullshit, tooled-up and ready to attack with renewed vigour and reinforced ranks. With Jot Maxi and J. Hurley now sharing the vocal and lyrical load, drummer Rich Hawking and bassist Josh Gurner bringing the beats and rhythms, and guitarist and production don James Hewitt fleshing out the group’s genre-fluid muscle, new album Hyperdialect arrives less like a mission statement and more as a flaming musical Molotov, declaring all-out war. “Hyperdialect isn’t an album for people to just casually listen to,” J insists, “we’ve taken things to the next level, which I didn’t even think was possible. We spit the truth. *We are the truth.*” In 2016, when Hacktivist initially set sights on their enemies with debut album Outside The Box, the world wasn’t fully equipped to heed their warnings and pay attention to its timely rallying cries. They return into a very different one, however – a world that’s sadly now all-too-finely-attuned to the horrors they first forecasted four years ago. “It’s becoming clear that we are on the brink of some type of revolution,” says Jot, with no small dose of conviction or optimism. “Hacktivist are here to bring truth and positivity – the silver lining of a society clouded in poisonous fear. Hacktivist also represents a voice that isn’t afraid of saying what needs to be said. We’re already living in the future. We have the choice to either be shaped by it or to stand up and shape it ourselves. Which path will you take?” It was with those battle lines clearly drawn and ambitions duly set that Hacktivist entered into the creation of Hyperdialect. Starting almost two years ago and developing on the acerbic sonic filth introduced by 2019 singles Reprogram and Dogs Of War, the five-piece felt fired up by their new working dynamic and the collective process involved, with each member actively encouraged to contribute ideas until the best outcome was reached. Unusually, for such a group of bloody-minded insurrectionists, this democratic approach worked wonders – a testament to how much they were all on the same page on these 12 tracks.

Following in the footsteps of the pathbreaking Minna Miteru compilation of Japanese indie music, Morr Music and Alien Transistor have again joined forces to release The Fruit Of Errata, a compilation introducing the world to the intimate DIY pop of yumbo. Led by songwriter, pianist, and occasional vocalist Koji Shibuya, the Japanese band has released four albums since forming in 1998. This compilation draws fifteen songs (eighteen on vinyl) from those albums, and some ancillary releases, to uncover a biographical narrative of yumbo, showing how Shibuya’s songwriting, and the group’s limber, sensitive playing, has developed over the decades. It also places them squarely within a tradition of home-spun but ambitious Japanese pop that takes in Maher Shalal Hash Baz, Tenniscoats, Nagisa Ni Te, Yuzo Iwata, Kazumi Nikaido and more.

yumbo is very much the vision of Shibuya, an amiable iconoclast whose songs seem informed by some of his early listening – there’s the playful seriousness of Maher Shalal Hash Baz’s Tori Kudo here, an avowed long-time hero for Shibuya, but also the flexibility of freely improvised music. You can also hear Shibuya’s fondness for Mayo Thompson and The Red Crayola in both the idiosyncracies of the writing and the egalitarian looseness of the playing. Shibuya also carries those energies into the group’s membership – there are fantastic stories of him having a conversation at a record shop, or overhearing someone speaking, and asking the person in question to join yumbo as one of their various singers. He seems open to chance as a driving force, as a way to make space for unexpected possibilities to blossom.

The great achievement of yumbo and Shibuya, though, is translating all of this into beautiful, unpredictable pop songs. There’s a gorgeous soul-inflected lilt to “A House” that makes it delightfully affecting; the swaying brass on “Storm” propels its melody to a moody, dreamlike conclusion; the nakedness of “The Sweetest Mass” is slightly reminiscent of Carla Bley’s more pop-focused writing, crossed with the classicism of the songs that spilled from the Brill Building in the ‘60s. Throughout, Shibuya renders pop a deeply personal experience; you can hear musings here on friendship, family, intimacy, the complexity of relationships, mortality, and imbalances of power. These musings are also shadowed by real-life events: the effects and impact of the Great East Japan Earthquake of 2011 are captured in songs like “Umbrella People” from Onibi.

Throughout the performances on The Fruit Of Errata, Shibuya and the group play with tenderness; they also often draw on other players to flesh out the music even further, two such guests being the aforementioned Tori Kudo (on “Umbrella People”) and Olympia, Washington’s LAKE (on “The Devil Song”). Community-minded and generous in approach, the writing of Shibuya and the music of yumbo is never less than lovely, and The Fruit Of Errata is a welcome introduction to their world. Open and gentle, confident and generous, these pop songs are filled with charm and spirit.

HIDE are an electronic duo based in Chicago. The pair create dark and heavy sample - based compositions using a combination of self - sourced field recordings and various pop culture and media references. Their music is textured, minimal, and powerful, giving raw vulnerability an opportunity to unfurl. Their work is honest, confrontational, powerful and thought - provoking.

HIDE's third album, Interior Terror further abandons traditional concepts of song structure in favor of splintered rhythms and fevered, immediate release. Expanding on previous themes of autonomy and empowerment, Interior Terror addresses and questions the corporeal and immaterial body in a physical and metaphysical sense. Turning to the dread inside, reflecting on the world around us,

HIDE gives voice to the power of destruction as a c atalyst for hope, and to the collective experiences of those who've come before us as a wellspring of our own power. Raw vocal delivery of mantra - like prose issued forth yields a raging, plaintive wail that lulls, mocks, questions, proclaims and decries. A dearth of collected field recordings give way to more fluid arrangements while retaining a scathing urgency. The result is minimal, spacious, and jarring; a distant knocking grown into the pulse of a hypnotic dirge, drones emerge from shards of decomposed sound, bending, seething their way through your body.

"Do Not Bow down" is a self - directed spell for fire and regeneration. “Nightmare” explodes, unrelenting; conflating time and space to the beat of repeated blows to the head. A reflection on perpetual suffering, generational traumas and the transformative action of release. Title track “Interior Terror” belies a new brand of body horror informed by the systemic enforcement of a contemporary Western gender binary, touching on experiences of dysphoria and disassociation . “Fear” answers the question 'Where do cops come from

HIDE are an electronic duo based in Chicago. The pair create dark and heavy sample - based compositions using a combination of self - sourced field recordings and various pop culture and media references. Their music is textured, minimal, and powerful, giving raw vulnerability an opportunity to unfurl. Their work is honest, confrontational, powerful and thought - provoking.

HIDE's third album, Interior Terror further abandons traditional concepts of song structure in favor of splintered rhythms and fevered, immediate release. Expanding on previous themes of autonomy and empowerment, Interior Terror addresses and questions the corporeal and immaterial body in a physical and metaphysical sense. Turning to the dread inside, reflecting on the world around us,

HIDE gives voice to the power of destruction as a c atalyst for hope, and to the collective experiences of those who've come before us as a wellspring of our own power. Raw vocal delivery of mantra - like prose issued forth yields a raging, plaintive wail that lulls, mocks, questions, proclaims and decries. A dearth of collected field recordings give way to more fluid arrangements while retaining a scathing urgency. The result is minimal, spacious, and jarring; a distant knocking grown into the pulse of a hypnotic dirge, drones emerge from shards of decomposed sound, bending, seething their way through your body.

"Do Not Bow down" is a self - directed spell for fire and regeneration. “Nightmare” explodes, unrelenting; conflating time and space to the beat of repeated blows to the head. A reflection on perpetual suffering, generational traumas and the transformative action of release. Title track “Interior Terror” belies a new brand of body horror informed by the systemic enforcement of a contemporary Western gender binary, touching on experiences of dysphoria and disassociation . “Fear” answers the question 'Where do cops come from

** 12” LP edition of 300 copies with cover artwork and booklet featuring illustrations by Ettore Tripodi ** In September 2019 Alessandro Bosetti was invited by fellow composer and curator Riccardo La Foresta to create a new work for a newly created ensemble as part of a residency program hosted by Centro Musica in Modena, Italy. The very first encounter took place on Skype – kind of a prediction of the forthcoming physically distanced pandemic times. The first, straight-to-the-point question Bosetti posed to each musician was to tell him the history of their life. The materials collected in the interviews subsequently underwent a process of anonymization, selection and cut-up in order to create the imaginary autobiography of Didone, a genderless character on whom Bosetti composed a combinatory poem in 84 aphorisms, six of which have been translated into music. The ensemble consists of extremely different musical profiles: the contemporary soprano Giulia Zaniboni, minimalist banjo and acoustic guitar player Glauco Salvo, and four musicians with a jazz background such as guitarist Luca Perciballi, drummers Andrea Grillini and Simone Sferruzza, and saxophonist Dan Kinzelman (also part of Hobby Horse trio and long-time collaborator of Enrico Rava). Some of the stylistic features of Bosetti’s project Trophies (along with Kenta Nagai and Tony Buck) can be detected here and there. Persistent repetitions, mesmerizing sonic masses and extended, oblique melodic lines are here led by the clear and precise voice of soprano Giulia Zaniboni.



The voice is at the heart of this work: the textual fragments of the autobiographies are filtered through Zaniboni’s contemporary vocality, while informing the instrumental writing as well. Themes and textures unveil traces of words or sentences; fragments of biographies are embedded in the intricate instrumental dialogue between the two drummers. A final layer was added by Ettore Tripodi, a unique and out-of-time visual artist who imagined Didone in a series of illustrations accompanying the poem. "Didone" is a work about the reconfiguration and recombination of identities, where every specific sense of belonging melts into an indistinct swarming of possibilities.



Alessandro Bosetti is a Marseille-based composer and sound artist with a particular interest in the musicality of language and in the voice, conceived as an autonomous object and an instrument of expression. His works enact a dialogue between language, voice and sound within complex tonal and formal constructions, often crossed by oblique irony. He builds surprising devices, often linked to the radio medium and to a tireless reflection on the relationships between music and language, questioning aesthetic categories and listening postures.



His work has been shown in reference venues such as the GRM / Présences Electronique festival in Paris, Roulette and The Stone in New York, Café OTO in London, the Liquid Architecture Festival in Melbourne and Sydney, the Serralves Museum in Porto and the San Francisco Electronic Music Festival. His music is released by labels such as Errant Bodies Press, Holidays Records, Rossbin, Sedimental, Unsounds, Monotype, Weird Ear Records.

Soul/Disco/Funk single here for the first time ever on vinyl!
The independent label Six Nine Records Ltd. UK, based in Newcastle upon Nekita's diverse musical journey has taken her through chorus groups, musical theater, Hartt School of Music, Gospel in church, and mentoring and performing with many independent artists.
“Won’t Stop Loving You” is a beautiful mid-tempo track and “Best Shot” a brilliant mover, both with lyrics which matter, both blessed with the divine voice of Nekita Waller and both on vinyl for the first time!
Tyne, proudly presents Nekita Waller and her first release on the label!
There was never a question that music would be a part of Nekita Waller's life. From her stage debut as a child at the famous Apollo Theater in Harlem, to singing the American national anthem to thousands of spectators at professional sporting events as an adult, music defines Nekita's life.
Definitely not to be missed as it is a limited UK press with small hole
and full colour printed picture cover!

black vinyl in mirrorboard gatefold jacket with die-cut! Much like the New Orleans-born artist who created it, Second Line is an unapologetic genre bender that pushes boundaries, expands possibilities, and shatters expectations. It's more than just an album: Second Line is a cohesive sensory experience that questions traditional ideas of sound, production, and visual aesthetics as they relate to music. Its interlocking parts tell an epic story about the quest for artistic expression, with Dawn describing her project as "a movement to bring pioneering Black women in electronic music to the forefront." She elaborates: "You never see women appreciated as producers and artists alike _ especially Black women in the electronic space. The time is now for us to start recognizing their talent, not only in electronic music but in all genres. I wanna be the reason why a young Black girl from the South can be whoever she wants to be musically, visually, and artistically." Second Line cuts to the chase with its opening suite of dancefloor bangers, immediately displaying Dawn's mastery of layered production and melodic hooks. Second Line treats Louisiana Creole culture, New Orleans bounce, and Southern Swag as elemental, allowing Dawn to weave in and out of house, footwork, R&B, and more. As she says, "I am the genre." The story of Second Line centers on Dawn's persona King Creole, assassin of stereotypes, a Black girl from the South at a crossroads in her artistic career. To move forward, she decides to look back, but where previous album New Breed took influence from her father, Second Line is illuminated by Dawn's mother. Her proud repeated proclamation of "I'm a Creole Girl" introduces the ecstatic dancehall pop of "Jacuzzi," and later, on the cinematic album centerpiece "Mornin | Streetlights," she answers Dawn's question of how many times she has been in love. Intimate conversations like this between the two are interlaced throughout Second Line, giving credence to how the protagonist came to be, and direction to build a lane forward. It's no surprise that King Creole's story parallels Dawn Richard's. As a founding member of Danity Kane, and later with Diddy's Dirty Money, Dawn was able to explore the ins and outs of commercial pop music. As a solo artist, she opted to selfrelease her music. Over the span of five critically acclaimed full-length albums, Dawn has made the message clear that she will not bow down or bend to industry norms. All the while, she's built her resume with enough extracurriculars to make your head spin: Cheerleader for the New Orleans Hornets? Check. Animator for Adult Swim? Check. Owner-operator of a vegan pop-up food truck? Check. Martial arts expert? Check! Second Line embodies the heritage of soul music and the roots of New Orleans, all surrounded by the influences of electronic futurism. "The definition of a Second Line in New Orleans is a celebration of someone's homecoming," says Dawn. "In death and in life, we celebrate the impact of a person's legacy through dance and music. I'm celebrating the death of old views in the industry. The death of boxes and limits. I'm celebrating the homecoming of the Future. The homecoming to the new wave of artists. The emergence of all the King Creoles to come." Dawn Richard is bold, confident, purposeful, and a King throughout Second Line. Are you ready to dance?

Negativland’s mirror image sequel to last year’s True False, The World Will Decide turns the focus away from the very human inability to accurately define reality, and towards the technologies being built to do a better job at it. But if sorting true from false seemed like a full time job back when all one had to keep track of was one’s own mind, life alongside the machines built to connect everyone only seems to multiply the uncertainties. On The World Will Decide, those uncertainties are made almost deliriously danceable: a netweb of densely sampled voices melting speech back down into music and back again, into what everyone can agree are the real questions—did that firefly really land on your finger? Would you like to be arrested? Does this app connect you to people, or replace them? Is this post an example of inauthentic behavior? Do people have to die? Or, as one of the many sampled voices on this work assures the listener: we can really feel like we’re here.

Compilation of all the recordings by this legendary punk band prior to their LPs: the sessions for their single 'Mucha Policía', taken for the first time in 27 years from the original tapes, which has unearthed two studio recordings unissued until now; plus rehearsals, demos and live recordings. Completely remastered. A furious, noholds-barred sonic account of a period of immense changes for Spain and the Basque Country. The origins of the most important Spanish punk group, regarded as one of the essential bands of the genre all over the Spanish speaking world.It was a time when the walls were teeming with socio-political proclamations, where the hammer and sickle - alongside the illegal Ikurriña (the flag of the Basque Country) - were the most widely used symbols. A time of general strikes and protests on the streets that often ended in an ugly manner. A time also of smoky joints, where huge speakers played loud rock and there were dreams of strawberry fields. In Santurtzi, on the left bank of the Nervión estuary, a unique band was born: ESKORBUTO. Iosu Expósito and Jualma Suarez lived in working class neighbourhoods that had grown fast. Both Kabiezes and Mamariga were, in the 50s, mainly rural areas of Santurtzi. In the 60s, industrialization and rampant development transformed them into urban areas without any investment in urbanism. Some elements for the alchemy led to the explosion: intelligent young guys who were nevertheless incapable of adhering to school discipline, a country in full swing towards freedom after 40 years of dictatorship. It was a context very familiar with the turbulence of the "Basque conflict", with neighbours seduced by the "armed fight" and the "liberation of Euskal Herria", with the question of "identity" constantly present, traumatic episodes of killings, tortures and imprisonments .One day at the end of the 70s they decided to start a band. The first period of Eskorbuto's life, before the damage done by the needle became noticeable, was incredibly fruitful. They soon found a rehearsal space, thanks to their first drummer ("Gu"), and there the first songs were born: 'Enterrado vivo', 'Busco en la basura', 'Éste es el porvenir', 'Mucha policía, poca diversión'. It was a period of line-up changes. Iñaki Laiseka played bass for them, and that role was also taken by "Seni" and "Garlopa", two precursors of "left bank" punk. Later on they found Paco Galán, who also came from a similar neighbourhood to theirs (Repélega, in Portugalete). Paco always was the necessary engine, the piece around which the rest revolved, which guaranteed continuity. His drumming also added an apparently chaotic element to the already unbridled guitar melodies and visionary texts, halfway between dirty realism and Edgar Allan Poe's nightmares. These recordings are taken from those early times of excitement and vertigo, of journeys to Madrid under a train's seat and endless trips up and down the left bank looking for "someone that I've heard is selling an amp". Now the Reina Sofía Museum exhibits their "Impuesto Revolucionario" LP and there's no Spanish speaking country without legions of fans.

Luca Yupanqui was not yet born when she recorded her debut album. The music on the aptly titled Sounds of the Unborn is the expression of life in its cosmic state _ pre-mind, pre-speculation, pre-influence, and pre-human. It is the first album created by a person while they were still inside the womb, the expression of a soul that hasn't yet seen the light of day nor taken a single breath of air. It is a message that comes from a different realm, a sublayer of our existence. Sounds of the Unborn was made with biosonic MIDI technology, which translated Luca's in utero movements into sound. With the help of her parents, Psychic Ills bassist Elizabeth Hart and Lee Scratch Perry collaborator Iván Diaz Mathé, Luca's prenatal essence was captured in audio. They designed a ritual, a kind of joint meditation for the three of them, with the MIDI devices hooked to Elizabeth's stomach, transcribing its vibrations into Iván's synthesizers. They let the free-form meditations flow without much interference, just falling deeper into trance and feeling the unity. After five hour-long sessions, the shape of an album began to emerge. Elizabeth and Iván then edited and mixed the results of the sessions, respecting the sounds as they were produced, trying to intervene as little as possible, allowing Luca's message to exist in its raw form. This cosmic soul summoning created new sounds, striking into uncharted territory for Elizabeth and Iván as musicians. A new language was being created, a new form of communication. It was a music without intellect or intentionality behind it, with no preconception or attempt to create any specific sound or melody. Every note on Sounds of the Unborn occurred naturally. It is human nature to wonder what life is like inside another human being's consciousness. How does it feel? What does it sound like? All these questions became stronger and more important to Elizabeth and Iván while they were waiting for Luca to come into the world. At a certain point the questions turned into, What would she say if she could speak? How would she react to the outer world? And ultimately, What kind of music would she play if she was able to? This album is an attempt to answer those questions. RIYL: Brian Eno, Mort Garson, Kaitlyn Aurelia-Smith

Luca Yupanqui was not yet born when she recorded her debut album. The music on the aptly titled Sounds of the Unborn is the expression of life in its cosmic state _ pre-mind, pre-speculation, pre-influence, and pre-human. It is the first album created by a person while they were still inside the womb, the expression of a soul that hasn't yet seen the light of day nor taken a single breath of air. It is a message that comes from a different realm, a sublayer of our existence. Sounds of the Unborn was made with biosonic MIDI technology, which translated Luca's in utero movements into sound. With the help of her parents, Psychic Ills bassist Elizabeth Hart and Lee Scratch Perry collaborator Iván Diaz Mathé, Luca's prenatal essence was captured in audio. They designed a ritual, a kind of joint meditation for the three of them, with the MIDI devices hooked to Elizabeth's stomach, transcribing its vibrations into Iván's synthesizers. They let the free-form meditations flow without much interference, just falling deeper into trance and feeling the unity. After five hour-long sessions, the shape of an album began to emerge. Elizabeth and Iván then edited and mixed the results of the sessions, respecting the sounds as they were produced, trying to intervene as little as possible, allowing Luca's message to exist in its raw form. This cosmic soul summoning created new sounds, striking into uncharted territory for Elizabeth and Iván as musicians. A new language was being created, a new form of communication. It was a music without intellect or intentionality behind it, with no preconception or attempt to create any specific sound or melody. Every note on Sounds of the Unborn occurred naturally. It is human nature to wonder what life is like inside another human being's consciousness. How does it feel? What does it sound like? All these questions became stronger and more important to Elizabeth and Iván while they were waiting for Luca to come into the world. At a certain point the questions turned into, What would she say if she could speak? How would she react to the outer world? And ultimately, What kind of music would she play if she was able to? This album is an attempt to answer those questions. RIYL: Brian Eno, Mort Garson, Kaitlyn Aurelia-Smith

Hailing from Los Angeles, Jimmy Tamborello has been a key figure in refining what today is considered electronica for over 20 years. "The Seas Trees See" is the first of two Dntel albums to be released in 2021 by Morr Music in collaboration with Les Albums Claus: a free-floating and rather loose stroke of musical genius, giving ambience a whole new meaningful context. It combines crackles and hiss with deep, yet modest, synths and poignant, yet elegant, vocals and lyrics. "Away", its counterpart album, will follow later in 2021. It will showcase Dntel’s unapologetic love for pop music from a long-gone era, presenting yet another aspect of his multi-faceted personality. Dntel has always covered many musical grounds – from the pop-infused hits on "Life Is Full Of Possibilities" (Plug Research, 2001) to his much more abstract works on "Aimlessness" (Pampa Records, 2012), "Human Voice” (Leaving Records, 2014), and his electronics for The Postal Service (Sub Pop). Whatever his style – Tamborello has retained his very own musical voice.

When it comes to producing music, it can be a good idea to get away from the studio and find a more relaxed environment. Inspiration does not necessarily require huge bass bins. Fewer pieces of gear make it easier to really focus on ideas first and let them be. After recording "Hate In My Heart" – his most recent album, released in 2018 – this way, Tamborello continued working in that fashion, mainly jamming and getting ideas together for upcoming live shows. One of the first results of this creative process was the opening track of "The Seas Trees See" – a cover version of "The Lilac and the Apple", originally recorded by Californian folk singer Kate Wolf in 1977. Tamborello turns the acapella song into a vocoder-like extravaganza. Working with the original recording, the track perfectly sets the tone for what "The Seas Trees See" turns out to be – a quiet yet mesmerizing journey through sound and emotion, bringing together his very own sound design, disguised samples and an incredible feel for moods and atmospheres.

"I thought a lot about making an album that you would find in a thrift store", Tamborello remembers. Something "like a mysterious collection of sketches that leaves a lot unanswered. It doesn’t beg for attention or have any big moments." Despite its perfect and gentle flow, it is worth digging deeper, to surrender oneself to all the painstakingly placed details. Whether the beautiful and haunting piano work on "Movie Tears" or the almost sidechained-sounding "Yoga App" – every aspect of this album has been beautifully crafted, often bringing one of life’s biggest questions to the table: What if? What would have happened if Tamborello would have done this on that track or that on this track? It is good that he did not. Small things add up to something great, diverse and riveting.

The subtlety of his latest endeavor is fascinating. It opens up a new world, in which small musical sketches mean at least as much as perfectly produced pop anthems – if not more.

Armellodie Records is proud to present 'whence, the', the new album from Thirty Pounds of Bone aka, Johny Lamb. 'whence, the' is the sixth full-length album by Thirty Pounds of Bone and the third in a series of records that play deliberately with the affordances and problems of studio recording. 2015's 'The Taxidermist' was awash with huge, constructed ensemble pieces, 2019's critically-acclaimed, 'Still Every Year They Went' was recorded live, at sea, on a commercial fishing boat, and this last takes Johny Lamb's fascination with analogue synths further than before using Eurorack modular synths as the bedrock for each song. The result of working in this way is of course, that many of the parts on the record are all but impossible to recreate; the nature of the patches being built in the moment, captured, and undocumented. This time around Johny has focused on the tiny details of sadness, largely inspired by the events of 'A Story of Long' where the central moment of the song is observing a close friend pouring his husband a glass of water in a hospice, just some few hours before his death. This was an intimacy and time that Johny did not expect to be a part of (the album is dedicated to the couple in question). But this stirred a way of thinking about how huge events are often typified or defined by very small gestures or happenings, and each of the tracks here comes from that place. Be it the existential crisis brought on by stripping wallpaper in 'Woodchip', how a single day might signify the end of a long relationship ('A Note to Myself'), or the miniature resignations to compromise we make in professional life which eventually overwhelm our very identity ('The Cynical Start to a Jaded Career #1'). Johny's lyricism and composition remain oblique but touching, and these songs of little moments of sadness, regret and grief are built to remain small. They are paradoxically content in their sorrow and should perhaps be kept as companions to similar feelings. "Organic and immediate. Music you can touch with your fingertips" The Irish Times // "Talent to appeal far more than only folk fans alone" Record Collector // "Exquisite index of gin-soaked desolation.... Lamb sings like a man unable to see beyond keeping a stiff upper lip to the end of the song. Even if he manages it, you might not." Mojo

Dream Violence, Michael Beach’s fourth full-length, is an epic album that explores the duality of the human condition. Or, as Beach himself puts it, the album is about “human futility, passion, desire, anger, frustration, and the struggle to maintain hope in a somewhat hopeless time.” Dream Violence, then, addresses the existential crisis of being an artist in 2020.

Known for his work touring with the Australian guitar pop band Thigh Master and the late, brilliantly eccentric Israeli guitarist Charlie Megira, currently the focus of a number of reissues by the Numero Group, Beach is the architect of a sound that is both well-built and ramshackle, straightforward and indeterminably complex, out of the norm yet familiar in all the best ways.

Dream Violence unfolds like a revelation, filled with sonic tumbleweeds that reference Neil Young’s On the Beach, Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska, the Velvet Underground’s Loaded, and the Go Betweens’ Before Hollywood. Influences ranging from the enigmatic outlier Megira to Glenn Branca to the Oblivians are combined to create a new, exhilarating sound, part of the path that Beach has been on since 2008’s Blood Courses. A veteran of year-end indie rock round ups beginning with Golden Theft in 2013 and continuing with Gravity/Repulsion, released in 2017, Beach distills the best of those early albums and adds sharpened intent.

Dream Violence works beautifully as a start-to-finish album. There are magnificent stand-alone moments: “Spring,” a raggedly building ballad that perfectly captures the ennui attached to new beginnings; “De Facto Blues,” a born-to-lose anthem that, says Beach, “is the sound of people totally at their wits end;” “Curtain of Night,” a simultaneously derelict and bright tribute to the late Megira, which sounds like it could’ve been cut at Muscle Shoals Sound Studio after the Rolling Stones wrapped up sessions for Sticky Fingers; and the delicately vulnerable “You Found Me Out,” which evokes equal parts Lou Reed and Joni Mitchell. On the latter, the lyrics “You found me out, on a ship at sea, you pulled me in, made a wreck of me,” encapsulate “the aimless of a modern world view in a future without hope and the draw/dependence of love in those times,” Beach explains.

Through music, Beach strives to convey both passion and compassion, energy and action. “My hope is that something gets communicated that makes people think outside of themselves or their surroundings,” he says. “To ask questions, and consider the effects of their decisions. To communicate some essential part of the human spirit that understands intuitively how to feel connected to each other rather than divide, exploit, separate, ignore, and all the other heinous shit we have the ability to do with each other.”

Recorded on two continents, Dream Violence documents Beach’s move from Oakland, California to Melbourne, Australia as he navigated a new music scene, plenty of bureaucratic red tape, and, ultimately, citizenship. Parts of the album were recorded and mixed at Tiny Telephone Recording in Oakland, at the end of a 2019 tour with Kelley Stoltz producing. Other tracks were recorded at Beach’s new home in Melbourne, where he could be “relaxed and sloppy in all the right ways,” and partially remixed at Phaedra Studios.

At the Memphis-based Goner label, Beach joins an increasingly unique roster of international musicians that reaches far beyond garage or indie rock to encompass artists like gospel singer Rev. John Wilkins, Kentucky rockers Archaeas, New Orleans iconoclasts Quintron and Miss Pussycat, and no-wavers Optic Sink.

Anohni has shared an emotive cover of Gloria Gaynor's 1978 classic 'I WIll Survive'. The track was a staple of her early live shows and opens with a graceful string arrangement by Maxim Moston, paired with piano performed by Anohni. Prior to the track being widely available on streaming platforms, Anohni shared a video incorporating live footage alongside messages dedicated to groups and causes that Anohni has long been an activist and advocate for. During the clip, Anohni dedicates the song to "the sacred gay people"; "all endangered Black trans lives"; "those in the US who die from medical neglect"; "the coral reefs of the world, now rotting"; "all those awaiting execution in US death chambers"; "Black lives tortured and stolen by American cops" and more. The messages reflect Anohni's longer values and work as an artist, trans activist, environmentalist and advocate for social justice. Alongside the release is a statement from Anohni, on the track being the subject of a licensing offer she turned down due to the platform in question hosting misleading pro-Trump ads. Further on the track, Anohni explains: "It was the first song I ever sang in nightclubs in NYC when I was 20 years old. I sang it hundreds of times. In those days I sang it thinking of Marsha P. Johnson and the underground queer community struggling to survive in the face of AIDS. Now it seems to me like an anthem for the future of life on earth." 'I Will Survive' follows a brace of releases from Anohni this year: most recently 'R.N.C 2020', a track inspired by the Republican National Convention which took place in August and the dread Anohni felt while watching it. Prior to that, Anohni released a 7" consisting of two covers, one of Bob Dylan's 'It's All Over Now, Baby Blue' with a b-side of Nina Simone's 'Be My Husband'.

A guitarry hybrid of AZITA’s edgy rock / soul / R&B sound. Grooving good times, acerbic exchanges overheard in the street, shifts in community, the losses you will carry always, dark recesses late at night that echo with a wonder you've never felt before. Life.
All instruments played by AZITA; the wackest, most AZITA-harmonious sounding pop album yet.
For those who find the passage of time a one-way process of attrition, here’s good news for you. In the eight years since AZITA’s last long-player her fevered brain has barely rested and the proof is a new album of unbounded physical and mental activity, music and entertainment, entitled ‘Glen Echo’.
The worlds of the previous AZITAs have left their unmistakable essence. Her singular conception of pop music - the idiosyncratic songs, singing and playing that have graced seven acclaimed releases - is in verdant recurrence on ‘Glen Echo’, blossoming anew, cutting sharply in the spirit and image of her everevolving, always questioning style.
Writing and arranging on keyboards since the time of her solo debut, AZITA focused on guitars for this set of songs. Not simply for swagger or a fresh approach to soloing but as part of a way to elide expected singer-songwriter tropes, to democratically populate the sound-stage in equal partnership instead.
This is a key aspect of the ‘Glen Echo’ sound, one that determined another new choice - AZITA playing everything on the album herself.
Previous long-players ‘Enantiodromia’, ‘Life On the Fly’ and ‘How Will You?’ were achieved via close work with players and engineers who took the compositions from the demo to a finished form. Invariably though, something would get lost in the transmigration somewhere. With ‘Glen Echo’, AZITA comes through fully, jaggedly, most vividly, owning her intention entirely in the dialogue of singing and playing her rock and rhythm and blues.
The lyric sheet is riddled with language that circles, through the many moments of life, aspects of the passage of time, the pre-empted dreams and strangeness of the present and the way we invent an idealized past in response to the changes, guiding the narrative... where? It’s all banded together by AZITA’s wit, equal parts droll and dire, her dispassionate view of fates and outcomes for all of us here together on the planet, textured with unique, cinematic details and sudden dives into a deeply felt, utterly OG sense of soul.
In ‘Glen Echo’ are a multitude of sounds - all the moments in a life: the good time grooves, acerbic exchanges in the street, shifts in community and generosity, moments of loss you know you will carry forever, reflection upon unknown futures and pasts, the dark recesses late at night that echo with a wonder you’ve never felt before. You name it, AZITA’s got some sweet and sour theme music for it.

I’ve known Alex Bleeker my entire life. Well, okay, maybe not since I was born, but there’s no doubt that I’ve shared a fair bit of memories with him over the years. We’ve acted in high school productions of Shakespeare together, gone on late-night diner runs, argued about which Weezer album is the band’s best, and swapped mutual appreciation for the music of Yo La Tengo on car rides careening around the snaky suburbia of our hometown. Just like his Real Estate bandmates Martin Courtney and Julian Lynch, we attended high school in the New Jersey enclave of Ridgewood, a place where sticky summer days yielded cool nights with a glow so nocturnal that you can practically hear the fireflies buzzing off of this sentence alone.

Indie rock—a type of music that can easily be made or listened to in someone’s garage—often dominates teenage suburban preoccupations, and both Alex and I were no exception. You can hear this legacy of listening on his new album Heaven on the Faultline, which departs from his last full-band outing as Alex Bleeker and the Freaks, 2015’s Country Agenda. Whereas that album had a more full-bodied explicitly folk-y feel, Heaven on the Faultline finds Bleeker getting back to his homespun roots over the course of its 13 songs, from the jangly guitar pop of New Jersey heroes the Feelies and YLT’s hushed, acoustic reveries to the open-hearted folk rock that marks so much of the Grateful Dead’s early catalog.

Written and recorded over the last several years, Heaven on the Faultline’s songs were initially recorded straight to GarageBand in Bleeker’s bedroom before receiving further studio refinement in co-producer Phil Hartunian’s Tropico Beauty space in Los Angeles. With contributions from Confusing Mix of Nations’ Josh Da Costa, Cameron Stallones of Sun Araw, singer-songwriter Kacey Johansing, and Parting Lines’ Tim Ramsey, Heaven on the Faultline achieves a warm and intimate feel that defines Bleeker’s mission for the album: “I wanted to capture the moment in which I fell in love with making music to begin with. This is music for myself—me getting back to music for music’s sake.”

The unsteady times we live in certainly creep into view on Heaven on the Faultline. The deceptively easygoing “D Plus” was written on the day of President Donald Trump’s inauguration with the cursed event in mind, while the anxiety of climate change hovers just above the lovely guitar loops of “Felty Feel.” “The album is very much about dealing with the anxiety of a sense of impending doom,” Bleeker states while discussing the album’s portentous vibes. “When is the hammer going to fall? How do we go forward in the face of such anxiety and experience the complexity of life?”

Tough questions with few answers, but try not to stress too much. It’s possible to experience such existential doubt while also enjoying the simple pleasures that life has to offer, and that ethos is square at the heart of Heaven on the Faultline. It defines who Alex Bleeker is, too, and is one of many reasons why I’m proud to have known this special person and artist for so long.

Larry Fitzmaurice

Clock, featuring two extraordinary songs written and performed by Arden herself. A vinyl-only edition of 250 copies, with fold-out poster and insert containing sleevenotes by Jack Bond, Sam Dunn, Charlotte Procter and Sebastian Saville. Arden and Bond’s collaborative career gave Britain some of the most extraordinary films it ever produced. Their filmography is woefully short - but it’s full to the brim of incredible, daring ideas and completely unfettered imagination. It’s packed, too, with pain and a disconcerting honesty about the human condition; challenging commonly-held ideas about madness and positing ideas which are far less easy to categorise or control. Anti-Clock, their final work together - Arden took her own life three years after its release - is a complex, contemplative piece, and Arden’s apparently comforting delivery of her self-penned songs and the see-saw flow of Mihai Dragutescu’s delicate instrumentation act only as a means to lure us in; to begin the de-programming. In Arden's book You Don’t Know What You Want, Do You?, the basis for the network of ideas at play in Anti-Clock – the motif of the rat is used as a metaphor for the rational mind. The lyrics to ‘Sleepwalking’ (living in a daze, wandering in a maze) also conjure up images of lab rats, of unthinking beings adhering to rules and systems, never questioning what is beyond what they think they know to be true. At the close of Anti-Clock, the central character, Sapha, simply says, ‘It has been my whole life's will to decode this puzzle, as though inside the answer to this equation was the insurance of that peace of mind that had eluded me. But there is no puzzle. And the mind is never peaceful. And dawn’s already here as the stars appear.’

Generally speaking, albums are created over the course of a few weeks, months, or years. However when it comes to Airplane Mode, not only has it spanned the latter, but its DNA was formed across two continents, a multitude of significant life changes, and an overall renaming of the projects title.

What started as a collaboration effort morphed in to a sonic space that Tall Black Guy used to highlight questions many of us frequently ask, but struggle to answer; Why am I here? Am I enough? What makes me happy? How do I move forward? What does real love feel like? Although the answers may be different for us all, Airplane Mode sets the path that the listeners use to reach their own conclusion.

In closing, rarely does 40 minutes capture the essence of so many different facades of an artist’s process, and personal transition. As intimate as the album may be, Tall Black Guy leaves room for people to shape their own interpretation by what they bring to the listening experience. Airplane Mode demands your complete consideration, and is intended to be consumed without skips, or interruptions. In other words, sit back, relax, and put your mind in….Airplane Mode!

For a band that resists repeating itself, picking up lessons from a decade prior is the strange route Cloud Nothings took to create their most fully-realized album. Their new record, The Shadow I Remember, marks eleven years of touring, a return to early songwriting practices, and revisiting the studio where they first recorded together.

In a way not previously captured, this album expertly combines the group’s pummeling, aggressive approach with singer-songwriter Dylan Baldi’s extraordinary talent for perfect pop. To document this newly realized maturity, the group returned to producer Steve Albini and his Electrical Audio studios in Chicago, where the band famously destroyed its initial reputation as a bedroom solo project with the release of 2012 album Attack on Memory.

Another throwback was Baldi’s return to constant songwriting à la the early solo days, which led to the nearly 30 demos that became the 11 songs on The Shadow I Remember. Instead of sticking to a tried-but-true formula, his songwriting stretched out while digging deeper into his melodic talents. “I felt like I was locked in a character,” Baldi says of becoming a reliable supplier of heavy, hook-filled rock songs. “I felt like I was playing a role and not myself. I really didn’t like that role.” More frequent writing led to the freedom in form heard on The Shadow I Remember. What he can’t do alone is get loud and play noisily, which is exactly what happened when the entire band— bassist TJ Duke, guitarist Chris Brown, and drummer Jayson Gerycz—convened.

The band had more fun in the studio than they’ve had in years, playing in their signature, pulverizing way, while also trying new things. The absurdly catchy “Nothing Without You” includes a first for the band: Macie Stewart of Ohmme contributes guest vocals. Elsewhere, celebrated electronic composer Brett Naucke adds subtle synthesizer parts.

The songs are kept trim, mostly around the three-minute mark, while being gleefully overstuffed. Almost every musical part turns into at least two parts, with guitar and drums opening up and the bass switching gears. “That’s the goal—I want the three-minute song to be an epic,” Baldi says. “That’s the short version of the long-ass jam.”

Lyrically, Baldi delivers an aching exploration of tortured existence, punishing self-doubt, and the familiar pangs of oppressive mystery. “Am I something?” Baldi screams on the song of the same name. “Does anybody living out there really need me?” It’s a heartbreaking admission of existential confusion, delivered hoarsely, with an instantly relatable melody.

“Is this the end/ of the life I've known?” he asks on lead single and album opener “Oslo.” “Am I older now/ or am I just another age?” Despite the questioning lyrics, the band plays with more assurance and joy than ever before. The Shadow I Remember announces Cloud Nothings’ second decade and it sounds like a new beginning.

For a band that resists repeating itself, picking up lessons from a decade prior is the strange route Cloud Nothings took to create their most fully-realized album. Their new record, The Shadow I Remember, marks eleven years of touring, a return to early songwriting practices, and revisiting the studio where they first recorded together.

In a way not previously captured, this album expertly combines the group’s pummeling, aggressive approach with singer-songwriter Dylan Baldi’s extraordinary talent for perfect pop. To document this newly realized maturity, the group returned to producer Steve Albini and his Electrical Audio studios in Chicago, where the band famously destroyed its initial reputation as a bedroom solo project with the release of 2012 album Attack on Memory.

Another throwback was Baldi’s return to constant songwriting à la the early solo days, which led to the nearly 30 demos that became the 11 songs on The Shadow I Remember. Instead of sticking to a tried-but-true formula, his songwriting stretched out while digging deeper into his melodic talents. “I felt like I was locked in a character,” Baldi says of becoming a reliable supplier of heavy, hook-filled rock songs. “I felt like I was playing a role and not myself. I really didn’t like that role.” More frequent writing led to the freedom in form heard on The Shadow I Remember. What he can’t do alone is get loud and play noisily, which is exactly what happened when the entire band— bassist TJ Duke, guitarist Chris Brown, and drummer Jayson Gerycz—convened.

The band had more fun in the studio than they’ve had in years, playing in their signature, pulverizing way, while also trying new things. The absurdly catchy “Nothing Without You” includes a first for the band: Macie Stewart of Ohmme contributes guest vocals. Elsewhere, celebrated electronic composer Brett Naucke adds subtle synthesizer parts.

The songs are kept trim, mostly around the three-minute mark, while being gleefully overstuffed. Almost every musical part turns into at least two parts, with guitar and drums opening up and the bass switching gears. “That’s the goal—I want the three-minute song to be an epic,” Baldi says. “That’s the short version of the long-ass jam.”

Lyrically, Baldi delivers an aching exploration of tortured existence, punishing self-doubt, and the familiar pangs of oppressive mystery. “Am I something?” Baldi screams on the song of the same name. “Does anybody living out there really need me?” It’s a heartbreaking admission of existential confusion, delivered hoarsely, with an instantly relatable melody.

“Is this the end/ of the life I've known?” he asks on lead single and album opener “Oslo.” “Am I older now/ or am I just another age?” Despite the questioning lyrics, the band plays with more assurance and joy than ever before. The Shadow I Remember announces Cloud Nothings’ second decade and it sounds like a new beginning.

Enter, ANGST a series of musical ‘essays on the ephemeral being’ by Portuguese pianist and composer Tiago Sousa.

After 2015’s Um Piano nas Barricadas (Discrepant, CREP23) Sousa expands his compositional chops by writing and performing along with a trio made of clarinet, percussion and vibraphone adding a magical realism aura to the music.

It was fate that the releasing of these compositions would arrive in one of the most troubled passages of recent memory, just as a new decade begins. If it was already established that anguish is one of the hallmarks haunting our modern era, these last few years expose this existential feeling with even greater urgency.

The album that Tiago now presents, part angst part nostalgic escapism addresses this very modern concern as well as other themes dear to the so-called existentialist thinkers such as Heidegger, Camus or Kierkegaard, who among others, seek to directly challenge the Being with various concepts such as Repetition, Temporality, Interiority, Despair…

Throughout the 8 themes here presented, a delicate attempt is made to sketch a phenomenological cartography through its content and form, loosely describing the feeling of being launched into the wide world and the discovery of one self. In other words, the artist’s aim here is to convey the growing pains that the whole question about the meaning of life throws at us.

In an approach that is difficult to catalogue, the album tries to avoid genres and crystallizations in which music presents itself as a vehicle to express the ineffable and the incommunicable, expressing instead a magical world of wonder and enchantment.

When Claud Mintz's mother finally heard the 13 songs on her kid's magnetic first album, Super Monster, she asked a concerned question: Just how many people had her 21-year-old dated? From beginning to end, these sparkling pop tunes capture the assorted stages of a relationship's delight and dejection_the giddy sensation of a first kiss during the beaming "Overnight," the heartsick longing of a pending rejection during the yearning "Jordan," the reluctant call for a requisite breakup during the smoldering "Ana." Claud, though, replied that these songs detailed the phases of only two or three relationships, simply written during them or at various points after they were over. The debut release on Phoebe Bridgers' Saddest Factory Records, Super Monster is a vertiginous but joyous coming-of-age reckoning with such young love. Claud sees relationships as games of endless wonder, intrigue, and second-guesses, a roller-coaster thrilling you even when it's terrifying. If "Gold" turns the tension and indecision of a bad match into an undeniable bit of lithe disco, "That's Mr. Bitch To You" uses a spurt of righteous indignation to fuse a little soul and emo into one breathless hook. Super Monster is like a compulsive compilation that Claud culled from a lifetime of musical enthusiasms_the arcing alt-rock of '90s airwaves, the rapturous pop of '00s chart-toppers, the diligent genre-hopping of modern online life. Claud emerges as the chameleonic mastermind of this mélange, channeling all of love's emotions into songs so sharp they make even the hardest times feel fun. Perhaps you are in the throes of one of these romantic moments yourself right now, resentful of a frustrating paramour like Claud during "Pepsi" or indulging in lust like "In or In Between." Or maybe these songs recall those wild days and tough situations. Incisive, instant, and addictive Super Monster works on either level_to remind us of love's wild ups and downs or to help us deal with them in real time. In that way, Mom, these songs are about dating, well, everyone.

It's tempting to think that you have all the answers, screaming your gospel every day with certainty and anger. Life isn't quite like that though, and the debut album from London four-piece TV Priest instead embraces the beautiful and terrifying unknowns that exist personally, politically, and culturally. Posing as many questions as it answers, Uppers is a thunderous opening statement that continues the UK's recent resurgence of grubby, furious post-punk music. It says something very different though - something completely its own. Four childhood friends who made music together as teenagers before drifting apart and then, somewhat inevitably, back together late in 2019, TV Priest was borne out of a need to create together once again, and brings with it a wealth of experience and exhaustion picked up in the band's years of pursuing 'real life' and 'real jobs', something those teenagers never had. Last November, the band - vocalist Charlie Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, bass and keys player Nic Smith and drummer Ed Kelland - played their first show, to a smattering of friends in what they describe as an "industrial freezer" in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. "It was like the pub in Peep Show with a washing machine just in the middle_" Charlie laughs, remembering how they dodged Star Wars memorabilia and deep fat fryers while making their first statement as a band. Unsurprisingly, there isn't a precedent for launching a band during a global pandemic, but among the general sense of anxiety and unease pervading everything at the moment, TV Priest's entrance in April with the release of debut single "House Of York" - a searing examination of the Monarchy set over wiry post-punk and fronted by a Mark E. Smith-like mouthpiece - served as a breath of fresh air among the chaos, its anger and confusion making some kind of twisted sense to the nation's fried brains. It's the same continued global sense of anxiety that will greet the release of Uppers, and it's an album that has a lot to say right now. Taking musical cues from post-punk stalwarts The Fall and Protomartyr as well as the mechanical, pulsating grooves of krautrock, it's a record that moves with an untamed energy. Over the top of this rumbling musical machine is vocalist Charlie, a cuttingly funny, angry, confused, real frontman. Uppers sees TV Priest explicitly and outwardly trying to avoid narrowmindedness. Uppers sees TV Priest taking musical and personal risks, reaching outside of themselves and trying to make sense of this increasingly messy world. It's a band and a record that couldn't arrive at a more perfect time.

-LTD. LOSER EDITION-

This LIMITED LOSER INDIES edition is on GREY MARBLED Vinyl! It's tempting to think that you have all the answers, screaming your gospel every day with certainty and anger. Life isn't quite like that though, and the debut album from London four-piece TV Priest instead embraces the beautiful and terrifying unknowns that exist personally, politically, and culturally. Posing as many questions as it answers, Uppers is a thunderous opening statement that continues the UK's recent resurgence of grubby, furious post-punk music. It says something very different though - something completely its own. Four childhood friends who made music together as teenagers before drifting apart and then, somewhat inevitably, back together late in 2019, TV Priest was borne out of a need to create together once again, and brings with it a wealth of experience and exhaustion picked up in the band's years of pursuing 'real life' and 'real jobs', something those teenagers never had. Last November, the band - vocalist Charlie Drinkwater, guitarist Alex Sprogis, bass and keys player Nic Smith and drummer Ed Kelland - played their first show, to a smattering of friends in what they describe as an "industrial freezer" in the warehouse district of Hackney Wick. "It was like the pub in Peep Show with a washing machine just in the middle_" Charlie laughs, remembering how they dodged Star Wars memorabilia and deep fat fryers while making their first statement as a band. Unsurprisingly, there isn't a precedent for launching a band during a global pandemic, but among the general sense of anxiety and unease pervading everything at the moment, TV Priest's entrance in April with the release of debut single "House Of York" - a searing examination of the Monarchy set over wiry post-punk and fronted by a Mark E. Smith-like mouthpiece - served as a breath of fresh air among the chaos, its anger and confusion making some kind of twisted sense to the nation's fried brains. It's the same continued global sense of anxiety that will greet the release of Uppers, and it's an album that has a lot to say right now. Taking musical cues from post-punk stalwarts The Fall and Protomartyr as well as the mechanical, pulsating grooves of krautrock, it's a record that moves with an untamed energy. Over the top of this rumbling musical machine is vocalist Charlie, a cuttingly funny, angry, confused, real frontman. Uppers sees TV Priest explicitly and outwardly trying to avoid narrowmindedness. Uppers sees TV Priest taking musical and personal risks, reaching outside of themselves and trying to make sense of this increasingly messy world. It's a band and a record that couldn't arrive at a more perfect time.

“You’re trouble” is an avant-garde electronic pop album about questioning and locating a sense of self in a disorienting, breaking environment of dissolving certainity which grows increasingly chaotic, about dysmorphic dissatisfaction, becoming disillusioned and alienated. It seeks to juxtapose beauty, serenity and vigour with instability, ugliness, chaos and crisis, expressing itself fluidly without genre or otherwise boundaries. A kind of sinister, anxious but still forward-pushing and at times positive and hot-blooded empowering energy can be felt that wants to urge the listener not to give up but to try and take courage and take control of the troubles and fears in their life. The tone is sometimes reflective, sometimes confronting. The album navigates fairly abstract musical territory, cathartic abrasiveness, heavy and unrelenting sounds of post-club music and noise fused with stretches of pop music, never settling down or resting for long, constantly breaking up and re-assembling itself. Between chaos and form, it’s finding relief in imperfection and the in-between. As such the music is ambivalent and is equal parts some kind of crisis club music as well as introspective reflection.
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Perhaps best known as the upside-down, guitar-wielding frontman of psych-legends The Entrance Band, and solo albums released under the ENTRANCE moniker, notably 2004's country blues epic Wandering Stranger (Fat Possum) , 2006's self-released cult classic, Prayer of Death ( which led to the formation of The Entrance Band) , and most recently 2017's Book of Changes (Thrill Jockey), Blakeslee has typically used his own name to release his most experimental and confounding records. Postcards From The Edge is no exception. Nearly two decades into a lifer's voyage of shapeshifting through shadowy realms of the American underground, Guy Blakeslee, poses these and other conundrums on his dramatic new album, Postcards From The Edge (Entrance Records). Recorded in New Orleans at the house studio of Preservation Hall Jazz Band, with former Sonic Ranch engineer and producer, Enrique Tena Padilla (Oh Sees, Wand), and featuring appearances from singers Lael Neale, Hale May, Rachel Fannan, and drummer Derek James of The Entrance Band, Postcards From The Edge is electrified by the spirit of sonic experimentation, and the fervent desire to chart a map into unknown territory. Across the record's seven tracks, Blakeslee's questing lyrics teem with stormy emotion, his plaintive voice finding succour in richly-textured melodies that soar over lushly-produced soundscapes, always on the verge of collapse. A wandering soul who has spent the better part of his musical life on the road, Blakeslee, a Baltimore native and LA transplant currently residing in the wilds of Virginia, has supported the likes of Spiritualized, Beach House, Cat Power, Mazzy Star, Interpol, and Father John Misty to name a few. "Seven tracks of questioning, tremulous, occasionally beautiful gospel-psych" - Uncut Magazine

South London-based band Soothsayers are set to release their ninth studio album 'We Are Many'. Held together by heavy basslines, solid grooves, and socially and politically charged lyrics; the album takes the listener into different sonic spaces with elements of dub, Afrobeat, improvisational jazz and electronica.

The initial steps in recording 'We Are Many' came in January 2019 when the band's founders - saxophonist Idris Rahman and trumpeter Robin Hopcraft - set out on a journey to Brazil. With executive production in the Sao Paulo studio by renowned music journalist and author David Katz, they hooked up with bass player and producer Victor Rice who they'd met sharing the bill at Freedom Sounds festival in Cologne, Germany a year earlier. Victor organised a session in Studio Traquitana, home of acclaimed Brazilian band Bixiga 70, and invited a selection of local musicians. Percussionist and singer Ligia Kamara contributed lyrics and melodies written in the studio, and drummer Bruno Buarque, guitarist Joao Erbetta and bassist Victor provided some solid, personality-driven input. Fresh and vital, what came out was a fascinating blend of Soothsayers' dub and Afrobeat mixed with distinctly Brazilian inflections.

After arriving back in the UK, Idris and Robin set about creating the remainder of the album in a different, yet complimentary way, and called on the services of Wu-Lu and Kwake at their The Room studio in South London. Things started to take shape very quickly, Wu-Lu and Kwake combining Soothsayers' music with electronic elements, while also referencing elements of the current UK jazz scene.

When lockdown hit in March 2020, there was still a lot of work to do in order to complete a full album and Robin and Idris set about working on tracks with their musicians remotely. Having time to consider the album as a whole, they found strong connections between the music recorded in Brazil and the tracks recorded in London and they set about fusing and combining these elements further into a satisfying whole.

UK based Sengalese singer Modou Toure was enlisted to guest on one track while percussionists Satin Singh and Maurizio Ravalico were engaged to help affirm a sound-world where Brazilian flavours, such as the low-end Surdo drum, were combined with sounds more readily associated with reggae and Afrobeat.

Soothsayers' three part vocal harmony is a defining factor in this album. With strong references to the vocal styles of reggae legends such as The Gladiators, Mighty Diamonds, Heptones, and Abyssinnians; it has benefited from the long-standing friendship between Robin, Idris and Julia Biel. Lyrics, melodies and harmonies were presented, discussed, explored and recorded at Idris' and Julia's home studio in Streatham in a relaxed and positive way, with concepts from social and political commentary turned into powerful songs.

Themes cover political observations of Trump and beyond alongside Brazil's president Bolsanaro (Rat Race), speaking out against increasing levels of violence from the Brazilian government towards its native and indigenous people (Love And Unity) and keeping hopeful despite the impending horrors of a no-deal Brexit (We Won't Lose Hope).

Elsewhere they discuss striving to create space for meditation and reflection against the background noise of 24/7 news and social media (Move In Silence), the daily grind (No Sacrifice) and workers' rights (Slave), while highlighting those that fall through the cracks in society and end up without a permanent address, what led to this and how close we all are from this happening (One Step Away).

'We Are Many' represents a positive and uplifting statement in the face of challenging times - the overriding force, power and positivity of the music to continue forward, pushing the boundaries of musical concepts into the future.

"Whilst heavy questions of life and death and the future of our species surround us all, music is a guide that can help us perceive the challenges in a different way - a guide that can help us towards a deep inner peace. If we listen, music can help light the way. We hope you will listen, and we hope you will experience the joy, meditative power and beauty in the connection of different musical cultures that was experienced in the creation of this album."