Buscar:life s question

Welcome to the ancient Disboard where the 10 rules of the game did not yet exist. War consumes the world, splits the heavens, destroys the stars and even threatens the human race. In the midst of this chaos, a young man named Riku tries to lead humanity towards a tomorrow he firmly believes in. One day, in the ruins of an Elven city, he finds Schwi, an "ex-machina" android who wishes to understand the heart of Man. Their meeting will change the course of history...

Music composed by Yoshiaki Fujisawa, arranger and composer. He is a member of the group Franz Maxwell I. He worked on the anime of LoveLive!, Issekai Cheat Magician and GATE.

He knew, through his music, to transport us in the universe at the origin of this "Issekai" to make us feel all the emotion of a meeting between two completely different beings.

In Marking A Boundary With The Turning Point, Ard Bit and Radboud Mens explore the tension between stasis and movement. Operating within the realm of drone and electroacoustic music, they construct a sonic landscape where sustained tones and microscopic events constantly shape and reshape each other. What initially appears static reveals itself to be rich with detail: tiny acoustic shifts breathe life into apparent stillness, inviting focused and attentive listening. The album emerged from a process where sound research, improvisation, and sound design merge. Self-built instruments, the search for timbre and texture, and recordings of the learning process itself form the foundation of these compositions. Rather than following a traditional musical structure, the result is a sonic field in which the minimal continually transforms, depending on the listener's perspective. Ard Bit (Ard Janssen) is a composer, sound artist, and field recordist based in Rotterdam, trained at the Institute of Sonology in The Hague. His work moves between improvisation and system-based composition, exploring the space between ambient, drone, and sound art. Radboud Mens is a sound artist with a decades-long practice grounded in minimalism, acoustic subtlety, and physical resonance. His work focuses on the perception of sound, the materiality of audio, and the creation of spatial listening experiences. Together, they present a layered and handcrafted album that doesn't narrate but questions. Marking A Boundary With The Turning Point is not a boundary, it's an invitation to listen beyond expectation.

LIMITED VINYL COMES IN CARDBOARD SLEEVE WITH BOOKLET!
OSTRANENIE is a collection of digitally manipulated, impressionistic piano miniatures — each named after blockbuster films and TV series. Improvised late at night as a reaction against passive media consumption, these pieces function as both homage and critique, navigating the space between classical impressionism and contemporary digital manipulation. They don’t just deconstruct traditional piano expression; they interrogate the emotional stakes of sound in an era where immersion culture flattens meaning and algorithmic logic erodes agency.

The album’s title references the Russian formalist Viktor Shklovsky’s concept of “ostranenie” (ɐstrɐˈnjenjɪj, estrangement/defamiliarization), a term he introduced in the early 1920s to describe art’s role in resisting the indifference of habitual perception.

“And so, held accountable for nothing, life fades into nothingness. Automation eats away at things, at clothes, at furniture, at our wives, and at our fear of war.”
—Viktor Shklovsky, Theory of Prose (1925)

Shklovsky saw art as a way to break through the anesthetizing effects of routine, stripping away the layers of habit that dull our senses. By making the familiar strange, art reclaims perception from the mechanical and the automatic. His argument wasn’t just a theoretical exercise — it was a response to a world rapidly consumed by industrialization, war machines, and the alienation of a technologically dominated modern life. In this context, he positioned artistic technique as something autonomous, distinct from mere social criticism or psychological reflection. Art seeks to remove “...the crust that the world of things deposits on our senses, with routine’s unending murder of the real.” Ben Ehrenreich on Serena Vitale’s Making Strange (The Nation, 2013)

This tension—between revolutionary/artistic and industrial technologies—defined the 20th century, and it continues to resonate today. The mechanization and automation that fueled the First World War’s devastation, alongside the social and economic turbulence of the 1920s, became central to the era’s self-conception. But just as technology was a source of alienation, it was also positioned as an agent of radical change. As the shock of modernity disrupted the human condition, it also became the driving force behind an ideological utopia — one that ultimately deformed into political totalitarianism — a paradox that remains unresolved.

OSTRANENIE plays within this contradiction. The music shifts seamlessly between an uncanny black MIDI dismantling of traditional piano virtuosity and moments of raw, fragile intimacy. The result is a work that resists automatic anonymity while questioning what it means to create in an era where the technological mediation of sound — and experience itself — is unavoidable: Art in the age of its technological constructedness.

"The meaning of this concept (Space Outside :Space) lies within your answers to these questions. Providing the questions are considered with honesty, the true meaning of what "Space" refers to becomes revealed.
There are no right or wrong answers, just reactions based on your view and angles on the mechanisms of life."

- Millsart aka Jeff Mills


What becomes a person that doesn't dream? What happens when we get all that we ever wanted? Do we know too much? Can we truly justify pessimism?
What are you planning on leaving behind? If given more life, stay the same or change? Life is more about giving or taking? Good fortune is based on what? What's more effective, love or hate? Do we care enough? Are we OK?
Life is mostly about ? Is there a end to this? Knowing that it propels, are we capable of critical thinking? Who is more important then yourself? What is worth dying for?

The Ramones were punks before punk rock was even invented. With their catchy, sing-along tunes, iconic hair styles and outfits, Joey, Dee Dee, Johnny and Tommy rewrote rock history and are now, as part of the first wave of US punk, firmly considered part of the subcultural world heritage. In the DUB-cultural world, on the other hand, their footprint has been pretty slim, particularly if one considers their stomping, three-chord songs, instantly recognizable chants (“Gabba gabba hey!”) and laconic humour. There are a few reggae and Latin versions of their songs online, but never before have the Ramones been honoured with an entire album in early reggae style…until now, bang on time for the band's 50th anniversary in 2024. The label Echo Beach, a bit of a specialist for missions such as these with a string of releases including “Bad Brains in Dub”, “Dubby Stardust”, got together with André Meyer (production, bass) and Manougazou (production, guitar). Both were part of the 2008 Echo Beach New Wave/Dub project DubXanne and were involved in the production and subsequent live shows. Also back in the team is keyboarder and DubXanne mastermind Guido Craveiro, who plays Hammond organ and piano on half of the tracks. The other two additions to the core team are singer and all-round instrumentalist Sebastian Sturm and drummer Raul Pfeffer. Together they homed in on the 11 most iconic Ramones three-minute-singalongs, including "Blitzkrieg Bop", "I Wanna Be Sedated", "Pet Sematary" and "Rock'n'Roll Highschool", and treated them to a reggae make-over. The whole process was kicked off by a slightly off-beat question (reggae music does that to you): What if Joey, Johnny, Tommy and Dee Dee had gotten together not in NYC, but in Kingston? And then stepped up to the mic alongside local singing and deejay greats? In musical terms the answer is surprisingly plausible and the line-up is sensational, even for a label like Echo Beach with its unrivalled connections. From up-and-coming youngsters to living legends, everyone is included, albeit with a focus on the elder statemen and stateswomen: the vast majority of the guests are over 60 and look back on deeply impressive careers! The artists come from Jamaica, the USA, the UK and Germany. All contributed one or two songs, and all of them tackle the songs in pairs with infectiously good humour, transforming legendary punk rock bangers into unpredictable dub tracks. Ramones’ classics such as "Blitzkrieg Bop" with its trademark battle cry "Hey! Ho! Let's Go!", "Sheena Is A Punkrocker" and "The KKK Took My Baby Away" are slowed down and underpinned with roots and rocksteady riddims. It almost goes without saying that the lyrics have been adapted to everyday Jamaican life with a great deal of fun and creativity. And amidst all the icons of early reggae, the Ramones also make an appearance: in the opening track "Pinhead", for example, we learn that the Ramones did actually listen to reggae and had even been planning a reggae album. Features guest vocals from Susan Cadogan, Ranking Joe, Ranking Ann, Prince Alla, Welton Irie, U Brown, Earl Sixteen, Dennis Alcapone and more

Originally released on Ben Chasny's own Pavilion imprint in 2011.

"I was invited by the Incubate Festival and the city of Tilburg to participate in an artist residency where I would explore the region’s unique chapels built for the Virgin Mary. After writing the music for about six months by drawing on memories of the encounters with the chapels and using techniques inspired by Gaston Bachelard’s Poetics Of Reverie, I flew back to Tilburg to perform the music at the Incubate Festival. We recorded the evening and I released the result on my Pavilion label. Each cover was hand painted white on white in the old Pavilion style. I created a stencil and used graphite powder to make the design that is inspired by the sun imagery in Athanasius Kircher diagrams."

Roadside chapels express the identity of the inhabitants of North Brabant, a Dutch province, bordering on Belgium. Roman Catholicism has been the dominant religion in this southern part of the Netherlands since the eighth century. For about a century and a half this religion was strongly suppressed. Only when the French revolutionaries preached freedom of belief around 1800 could the people of North Brabant exercise their faith again. This was the start of a very strong emancipatory development from which a special form of the Roman Catholic faith arose that fully determined everyday life of the people here. This faith was the determining factor in life and the measure of all things. After the second Vatican Council (1962-1965) the reins of the catholic faith in Brabant were loosened as well. This was the start of a revolutionary process of secularisation. Within a decade hardly anything was left of the almighty influence of the Roman Catholic Church and this situation has lasted up to the present day.

In spite of the almightiness of the official, Vatican ruled, Roman Catholic faith, North Brabant has always and perhaps notoriously fostered an undercurrent of popular belief as well. This is a kind of belief in which elements of the official faith and age-old pre-Christian traditions are combined. Worshipping relics, holding pilgrimages and processions, the use of water from holy wells, popular art, recitations and songs, festivals, rituals, folk traditions, superstition and the like are all examples of popular devotion. These matters have strongly influenced and formed the identity of the present-day population of North Brabant. It is part of their immaterial heritage.

An obvious and still very much visible form of popular devotion are the roadside chapels. In Brabant some 400 can be found, most of which have been devoted to Mary. Chapels are small buildings in which Mary or other saints are worshipped. They can be found within villages or towns or in natural surroundings. Always at the finest spots! The beauty of the environment adds a primary religious or mystical feeling to the visitor. Local people attach great value to their chapels. In spite of the overall secularisation in society they are still at the centre of cultural and social life. Where people in North Brabant can hardly be found in the churches nowadays, this doesn’t mean at all they are no longer religious. On the contrary, religious feelings are perhaps stronger than ever, but now people have to find their own expression of them. That’s why they fall back on the age-old popular belief in which chapels play an important role. We can even witness new forms of popular belief with chapels as their focal point. An example of this is the scattering of ashes of people who have been cremated. Chapels clearly also play a role in the lives of young people. On an average five new chapels are added every year.

I have studied the popular culture and belief and the identity of the inhabitants of North Brabant for over thirty years. I have published over forty books on these subjects. In 2010 I was approached by the organisation of the Incubate Festival in the North Brabant town of Tilburg. Their request was for me to lead the American composer and guitarist Ben Chasny around a number of chapels in the province devoted to Mary. He had been invited to North Brabant to write some new compositions. Ben Chasny then chose to be inspired by these chapels and that’s how we met. I was especially curious how an American would react to something as specific and small as a roadside chapel in North Brabant, since we tend to think here of (people in) America in terms of ‘big-bigger-biggest’. Would an inhabitant of this enormous country with this prevailing culture be able to grasp and respect the identity of some 2.5 million people in North Brabant with their chapels? The answer to this question lies hidden in the compositions he made and that can be listened to on this album. Yes, Ben Chasny has been able to convert the phenomenon of a simple chapel devoted to Mary into music. The physical and the spiritual have found each other. What a beautiful world…just listen! - Paul Spapens

 HOME?' is a heartfelt tribute to what Wretch 32 calls home, exploring the complexities, questions, and deep connections that come with it. The artwork, shot at the heart of his origins the very Tiverton estate where it all began - paints a rich tapestry of the inspiration taken from his Caribbean roots and the Windrush Scandal, encapsulating a raw slice of the Black British experience. Centering on belonging, place and identity as well as themes of love, life and loss, the album features words from his father and uncle who became community activists after the Tottenham Riots.

Annie A, the one-off collaborative project between Félicia Atkinson, Time is Away, Christina Petrie and Maxine Funke, arrives on A Colourful Storm with an inquisitive, exploratory composition evoking questions of inconstancy and reconciliation, vastness and finitude and the sometimes cruel deception of human perception. Who will conduct our dreams if we never wake?

It is a geographically diverse yet like-minded ensemble whose seeds were sown during an A Colourful Storm show in London, where time on stage was shared by Atkinson, Time is Away and Petrie. Atkinson had previously found solace in Time is Away's Ballads (ACOLOUR041), Funke's Seance (ACOLOUR035) and particularly the voice of poet Petrie, whose delivery drifts from a wide-eyed stream of consciousness to crystalline sensory expression. It is the perfect accompaniment to Atkinson's hushed tones, spoken sensitively like a mother to a resting child.

Atkinson's evocative sonic landscapes are formed from keyboard, voice and organic materials collected from life on the dramatic coast of Normandy, as well as field recordings from places far and wide. She breathes life into liminal spaces, the sound of wind, whispers and the distant clatter of rocks conjuring visions of places both beautiful and eerily familiar. Time is Away delicately arranges the field of sounds, their weaving and layering likened to the assembly of an Anni Albers textile. The spirit of Albers guides the piece, Petrie's recounting of her loom and thread a symbol of her endurance, vitality and seeking wonder in intricacies. The piece also features an exclusive concluding track by Maxine Funke, whose meditation on vulnerability confronts and surrenders herself to the enchanting natural world.

"The album was created in this back and forth of snapshots - we made most of the decisions impulsively without much questioning. That takes a lot of trust." — Violeta García & Hora Lunga

"I'll Wait For You In The Car Park", the first full length collaboration between Argentinian cellist, improviser and composer Violeta García and Swiss musician and composer Hora Lunga, is a work of extremes. Drawing from the realities of life on two continents, and embodying moods ranging from stoic desire to violent bursts, the album enciphers so-called ordinary moments from everyday life into an alluring collection of musical scenes. Seemingly inconspicuous moments are condensed into a tale of synchronicity: colliding time zones and seasons, metropolitan rhythms raining down onto a glacier's ice field, exploring places through street view, the serendipity of loitering at a kiosk. As such, "I'll Wait For You In The Car Park" brings documentary film essays to mind that carefully observe the private and everyday occurrences.
Violeta García and Hora Lunga crossed paths by chance in 2023 and began discussing and sharing music shortly afterwards. What started as a loose exchange of ideas, sending back and forth sketches and demos between South America and Europe, grew into several studio sessions in 2024. Being sucked into a "quite extraordinary flow", the two musicians recorded, arranged and intervened on a level playing field, using the studio as a playground to record musical layers and interweave them with field recordings and audio notes gathered over the course of a year. Speaking a kindred musical language, they quickly realized how their ideas clung to each other like two familiar souls, complementing, intertwining and merging. From gauzy and eerie textures, musical miniatures floating through time, howling and screaming strings, to tumbling and thundering basses – the sound of the ordinary shapes a body that vibrates, writhes and breathes.

Violeta García is a cellist, improviser and composer from Buenos Aires, Argentina. Based in Spain, she tours a lot with her band Blanco Teta. She is a performer in many art forms, including free improvisation, contemporary and trans-media experimental repertoire in violoncello and electronics and collaborations with dancers, film makers and visual artists. After years of studying classical and popular music on violoncello and, later, contemporary composition and improvisation, Violeta has developed her own musical voice needed to emerge beyond outside specific genres.

Throughout Swiss composer and musician Hora Lunga's work, the focus lies is on exploring boundaries, both musically and in terms of performance and content. Above all, genre designations lose all meaning, as the music always takes place within a dramaturgically conceived overall framework. In recent years, his projects have ranged from pop music productions to experimental works and sound performances, as well astheatre and film productions. His ensemble WIRREN consists of up to fifteen performers.

Luke Titus is a Chicago-born drummer, songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist known for his remarkable versatility and genre-spanning artistry. With deep roots in jazz and a knack for blending it seamlessly with experimental music, drum & bass, and beyond, Titus has earned a reputation as a world-class drummer and a dynamic force across the national musical landscape. Growing up in Chicago's vibrant music scene, Titus flourished alongside fellow young artists in the early 2010s. His work quickly positioned him as a key figure in the city's jazz, hip-hop, and R&B communities, leading to collaborations that propelled him to national recognition. Continue to follow the thread of Luke Titus' many contributions to jazz and alternative scenes across America, and what emerges is a singular weave between his roots in Chicago, LA and New York communities. From What Was Will Grow A Flower is the second LP from the prolific young songwriter and producer, codifying his many musical leanings into an emergent, nearly clairvoyant statement of musical intent. Blooming and innovative songwriting, effervescent vocal hooks, virtuosic instrumental passages, and meticulously studied production techniques abound. About the album, Titus says "This album is about spirituality and connectivity, both with the universe and the self, as told through my personal journey. It questions reality as a way to deepen one's connection to it. I dedicate this album not only to anyone who has been through hard times, but to anyone who relates to the cyclical nature of the human experience. And more than that, I dedicate this album to my mom." As a producer and songwriter, Titus' fingerprints can be found on numerous acclaimed projects, including Noname's Room 25, Luke Titus & Cisco Swank's Some Things Take Time, Orion Sun's Orion, and Ravyn Lenae's Hypnos. His co-production credits span across a roster of innovative talents like Steve Lacy, Monte Booker, Brian Sanborn, Teo Halm, Phoelix, Cisco Swank, Saba, Kiefer, Elijah Fox, and Itai Shapira. Titus has taken his talents to the global stage, performing at high-profile festivals and venues such as Lollapalooza, Coachella, Pitchfork, Blue Note NYC, North Sea Jazz Fest, Smoking Grooves, Fuji Rock Festival, Blue Note Tokyo, and NYC Winter Jazz Fest, amongst many others.

Luke Titus is a Chicago-born drummer, songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist known for his remarkable versatility and genre-spanning artistry. With deep roots in jazz and a knack for blending it seamlessly with experimental music, drum & bass, and beyond, Titus has earned a reputation as a world-class drummer and a dynamic force across the national musical landscape. Growing up in Chicago's vibrant music scene, Titus flourished alongside fellow young artists in the early 2010s. His work quickly positioned him as a key figure in the city's jazz, hip-hop, and R&B communities, leading to collaborations that propelled him to national recognition. Continue to follow the thread of Luke Titus' many contributions to jazz and alternative scenes across America, and what emerges is a singular weave between his roots in Chicago, LA and New York communities. From What Was Will Grow A Flower is the second LP from the prolific young songwriter and producer, codifying his many musical leanings into an emergent, nearly clairvoyant statement of musical intent. Blooming and innovative songwriting, effervescent vocal hooks, virtuosic instrumental passages, and meticulously studied production techniques abound. About the album, Titus says "This album is about spirituality and connectivity, both with the universe and the self, as told through my personal journey. It questions reality as a way to deepen one's connection to it. I dedicate this album not only to anyone who has been through hard times, but to anyone who relates to the cyclical nature of the human experience. And more than that, I dedicate this album to my mom." As a producer and songwriter, Titus' fingerprints can be found on numerous acclaimed projects, including Noname's Room 25, Luke Titus & Cisco Swank's Some Things Take Time, Orion Sun's Orion, and Ravyn Lenae's Hypnos. His co-production credits span across a roster of innovative talents like Steve Lacy, Monte Booker, Brian Sanborn, Teo Halm, Phoelix, Cisco Swank, Saba, Kiefer, Elijah Fox, and Itai Shapira. Titus has taken his talents to the global stage, performing at high-profile festivals and venues such as Lollapalooza, Coachella, Pitchfork, Blue Note NYC, North Sea Jazz Fest, Smoking Grooves, Fuji Rock Festival, Blue Note Tokyo, and NYC Winter Jazz Fest, amongst many others.

Luke Titus is a Chicago-born drummer, songwriter, producer, and multi-instrumentalist known for his remarkable versatility and genre-spanning artistry. With deep roots in jazz and a knack for blending it seamlessly with experimental music, drum & bass, and beyond, Titus has earned a reputation as a world-class drummer and a dynamic force across the national musical landscape. Growing up in Chicago's vibrant music scene, Titus flourished alongside fellow young artists in the early 2010s. His work quickly positioned him as a key figure in the city's jazz, hip-hop, and R&B communities, leading to collaborations that propelled him to national recognition. Continue to follow the thread of Luke Titus' many contributions to jazz and alternative scenes across America, and what emerges is a singular weave between his roots in Chicago, LA and New York communities. From What Was Will Grow A Flower is the second LP from the prolific young songwriter and producer, codifying his many musical leanings into an emergent, nearly clairvoyant statement of musical intent. Blooming and innovative songwriting, effervescent vocal hooks, virtuosic instrumental passages, and meticulously studied production techniques abound. About the album, Titus says "This album is about spirituality and connectivity, both with the universe and the self, as told through my personal journey. It questions reality as a way to deepen one's connection to it. I dedicate this album not only to anyone who has been through hard times, but to anyone who relates to the cyclical nature of the human experience. And more than that, I dedicate this album to my mom." As a producer and songwriter, Titus' fingerprints can be found on numerous acclaimed projects, including Noname's Room 25, Luke Titus & Cisco Swank's Some Things Take Time, Orion Sun's Orion, and Ravyn Lenae's Hypnos. His co-production credits span across a roster of innovative talents like Steve Lacy, Monte Booker, Brian Sanborn, Teo Halm, Phoelix, Cisco Swank, Saba, Kiefer, Elijah Fox, and Itai Shapira. Titus has taken his talents to the global stage, performing at high-profile festivals and venues such as Lollapalooza, Coachella, Pitchfork, Blue Note NYC, North Sea Jazz Fest, Smoking Grooves, Fuji Rock Festival, Blue Note Tokyo, and NYC Winter Jazz Fest, amongst many others.

For a project which made its debut in 2024 with next to no fanfare nor hype, rush2theUnknown managed to capture the attention and the imagination of a number of notable DJs across genres, tempos and timezones in their debut year. From legendary chillers Kruder & Dorfmeister picking up on the more Japanese VGM influenced side of their music, techno DJs like Courtesy, Anastassia Kristensen and Nastia drawn towards their more celestial-tinged breakbeat offerings and key support coming in from many trailblazers past and present of the genres that shaped the duo thirty years back. Support from artists and DJs around the world saw rush2theUnknown's music aired across Kool FM, Rinse FM, NTS, BBC Radio One, and thanks to impassioned support from punky-reggae icon Don Letts, multiple spins on the Rebel Dreads legendary BBC Radio 6 show.

With the foundation laid rush2theUnknown return to Diskotopia with the "Yugawara" EP.

Early support for the Yugawara EP has already seen responses from and tracks from the EP played by DJs like Machinedrum, DJ Flight, Addison Groove, dBridge, Gyrofield, Joakim, I:Cube, Courtesy, Cici, Sakura Tsuruta and more in clubs and on radio like NTS, Kool FM, Rinse FM and BBC Radio One, and BBC 6 Music.

Born from a journey out of Tokyo to the seaside town of Yugawara in the northeastern end of Izu Peninsula, the EP channels the energy, spirit and mathematically impossible coincidences that seem to come with each adventure the duo has in that part of Japan. Each morning the duo would leave their makeshift studio and wander across the hills of Yugawara. Be it a random encounter, a conversation or mental picture sparked by the visual scenery before them, new tracks came to life each day. As with their Diskotopia debut, each EP is a mix of the myriad influences the duo have accumulated since their teenage years living on outer ends of the Pacific Ocean.

From the technicolour aqua-jungle of "View From Fuua" which bursts with Logical Progression era Good Looking Records exo-planet optimism, through to the EPs closer, "Zuio-ji" a track that owes as much of a debt to the ancient Japanese court music of gagaku, as it does the 1960s soundtrack work of composer Toru Takemitsu and the jidaigeki infused breakbeat experiments of a mid 90s Rupert Parkes. Shades, tones and hues plucked from CD-ROM era "Visual Scenes" 80s CM Music and the techno-animism of synth-heavy anime soundtracks can be found on the EPs more VGM-leaning excursions "光のトンネル" and "夜明けの真鶴岬" whereas tracks like "Physical Reality" continue the question posed on their debut:What would a breakbeat tradition look and sound like, had it been forged a billion light years away?

Heidi Montag first came to prominence as a reality television personality on MTV’s “The Hills,” but the multifaceted entertainer has always credited music as her first love. Her debut album, Superficial, on which Montag worked with notable talents including L.P., Cathy Dennis, Stacy Barthe, Steve Morales, and Dave Pensado, has become a cult classic. A remix of “More Is More,” produced by Dave Audé, peaked at number 27 on Billboard’s dance charts. Montag’s one and only public performance of “Body Language” — at the 2009 Miss Universe pageant — was watched by a billion people worldwide. Hailed as “ahead of its time,” Superficial’s initial release faltered due to both promotional issues and Montag’s status as a reality star. The album has since gained praise for its pure pop sounds, which were influenced by Britney Spears and Janet Jackson, as well as for its message of empowerment. In 2018, Life&Style pronounced the album “criminally underrated.” In 2023, the Superficial track “I’ll Do It” became one of the top trending sounds on TikTok, garnering more than a billion streams and poising Montag for a musical comeback. Her most recent re-releases of the tracks “Bad Boy” and “Touch Me” have been celebrated by fans, who all have one question: “What’s next?” First time on CD and Vinyl and now in-stores!

The work of each of these powerfully creative & exceptionally perceptive individuals - poet and scholar Fred Moten and jazz bassist Brandon Lopez - concerns itself with how one might navigate the ascending reign of longinstitutionalised madness while simultaneously keeping humanity and sanity intact The synergistic mesh of these two voices in Duo is here presented on record for the frst time, following two acclaimed works on the Reading Group label in trio with Gerald Cleaver. Inimitable poet, cultural theorist, author, 2020 MacArthur Fellow, Fred Moten creates new conceptual spaces that accommodate emergent forms of Black cultural production, aesthetics, and social life. Moten is a professor of performance studies and comparative literature at New York University concerned with social movement, aesthetic experiment, and Black study. He is also a United States Artists Rockefeller Fellow and was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Puerto Rican- American bassist Brandon Lopez is the son of a gravedigger who himself put time in doing the same, developing muscles that serve him well in his thorough command of the upright bass. On moving to NYC, Lopez made himself indispensable within numerous realms of creative music. As the Cleveland Review of Books noted, "This is virtuosity as vocabulary, a total command of texture, subtlety, and a depth that can be reached into."

On their previous work in trio with Gerald Cleaver:

"Best Jazz Albums of 2022: Moten is after nothing less than a full interrogation of the ways Black systems of knowledge have been strip-mined and cast aside, and yet have regrown." - New York Times

"8.0 - A conceptually rich, politically weighty album that asks timeless questions without over-explaining...breathlessly complex" - Pitchfork

Fred Moten: texts, voice
Brandon Lopez: bass

Following up their critically-acclaimed 2024 LP Avoude (5 stars and 'Top of the World' on Songlines, Bandcamp top pick, Le Monde, BBC Radio, Pop Matters and more), Sol Power Sound is proud to present a blistering EP of remixes from the thrilling psychedelic West African outfit, Dogo du Togo & the Alagaa Beat Band.

Combining iconic traditional Togolese rhythms and melodies, Dogo du Togo’s sound is anchored in the country’s often overlooked, but extraordinary rich cultural history, reflecting the local Vodun religion and traditions that permeate everyday life in Togo.

For the remixes, Sol Power Sound enlisted a cast of renowned producers to rework the scorching originals into deeper club-friendly burners.

Captain Planet leads off the A side with a modern and percussive African house groove that will get any room with a pulse up and jumping

Sol Power All-Stars ask the question 'what if Prince joined Dogo du Togo in 1983?' and answer with a blistering dance funk track laced with synths, arpeggios, and Moog.

Rounding out the A-side is Detroit legend John Beltran, who transports Dogo and crew to Bahia for an Afro-Brazilian balearic heat rock. Perfect for your next sunset soiree.

Blair French, another Detroit icon, leads off the B-side with a deep and organic house groove that works equally well day, night, or early morning.

Sol Power All-Stars reappear again on side b with their mid tempo groovy Afrobeats flip of Von Na Agbeto, the one track that was not featured on Dogo’s LP.

Finally, DC mystery man Glenn Echo gets loose and trippy on the boards with a psychedelic digi dub (in 12/8!) that rattles your chest and puts your being directly into the echo chamber.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

180g black vinyl - limited to 200 numbered copies.

"What is my heart now"is the debut solo album by Ziemowit Klimek, known so far from bands such as Immortal Onion, Hania Rani, and Magda Kuraś Quintet. It is a cycle of five improvised compositions – "What," "Is," "My," "Heart," and "Now" – unified by a unique artistic concept, with each piece created in collaboration with a different musician.

The creative process for each of the five duets began with a conversation between Ziemowit, the guest artist, and the video team. Deconstructing the title word into its fundamental elements through questions like "What does 'What' mean? What emotions and associations does this word evoke in us? How can we capture its essence in sound and image?" became the starting point for artistic exploration.

To preserve the authenticity of the material as much as possible, both sound and image were recorded live, with no cuts or post-production editing. Equally important was the choice of spaces that corresponded to the meaning of each title word. Instead of sterile studios, the recordings took place in a variety of unique locations – "Heart" was captured in Ziemowit's most personal space, his bedroom, while "Now" was recorded inside a car during a dynamic drive, where the physical forces acting on the musicians significantly influenced their decisions while playing.

The album resonates with dialogue – not only musical but also emotional and intellectual. It is a meeting of individualities who, for Ziemowit, are not only inspirations as artists but also significant people in his life."What is my heart now"is an album about defining one's identity and capturing the moment, created in an atmosphere of honesty and trust. Ultimately, the question arises: is it even possible to definitively answer the question posed in the album's title?

"What Is My Heart Now"

Ziemowit Klimek (Double bass, Bass, Piano, Moog)

feat.

Krzysztof Hadrych - Guitar

Michał Jan Ciesielski - Saxophon, Volca

Hania Rani - Piano

Mikołaj Kostka - Violin

Jacek Prościński - Drums

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Who is Beatrice? Who is Melissa? Could they be one and the same?

This is the question at the heart of Secret, the duo’s debut album—or at least, that’s what the music seems to suggest. If sound is an extension of ourselves, it can also become a character we shape. The main character of Secret isn’t visible to the human eye, and yet they give off an androgynous and timeless energy, rooted in multiple languages and spaces. As the album unfolds, we sense the fusion of two distinct energies combined into a single, composite being. This constantly shifting, blurred identity comes to life in the album’s profusion of genres: club music, ambient, chanson, trip-hop, UK garage, and tech house. The tracks stretch and contract, following the trajectory of a dual voice.

Behind Secret lies a mélange of perspectives. Beatrice M., a Franco-British artist at the head of the label Bait, curates an innovative blend of syncopated UK club styles (mostly dubstep) and trancy techno grooves. Melissa Weikart, a French-American songwriter trained in classical piano with a deep passion for jazz, makes intimate avant-pop songs that embody her unique, hybrid approach to music-making. The diverse musical collaborations in Secret reinforce a dynamic that is central to both of their artistic journeys from the start, and these collaborations melt seamlessly into the album’s overall aesthetic. Despite a confluence of influences, the implied development of this obscure, extraterrestrial main character grounds us in a refreshing coherence. Secret is rich in variety and style, but above all, it diffuses a calm and serene atmosphere. Even when the BPM speeds up, we are carried along, suspended in Beatrice Melissa’s uncanny world.

Now on album number seven , Metronomy has continued where many of their 2000s ‘cool’ band peers have dropped off along the way. Small World is a return to simple pleasures, nature, an embracing in part of more pared down, songwriterly sonics (some moments wouldn’t sound amiss on a Wilco release), all while asking broader existential questions: which feels at least somewhat rooted in the period of time during which it was made – 2020. For all that Mount seems to think he has made a comparatively sombre record, much of Small World still pulses with the zesty, tongue-in-cheek joie de vivre you’d expect of a Metronomy record.

So sure, things are different now Joe Mount is getting older and what’s on his mind is changing, but that doesn’t mark a change in quality for Metronomy. An immaculate set of tracks, Joe Mount’s ability as a songwriter and arranger shines through on Small World, evergreen. Metronomy might be growing up, but they’re not afraid to still have fun with it all. Through the tumultuous ebb and flow of the years, Metronomy continues to endure and make great pop music – and, really, that’s all that we could ask for.

Joni Void, the artistic persona of Montréal-based French-British producer Jean Néant (he/them) returns to songcraft on their warmest and most welcoming record yet, where the acclaimed sampledelic sound collagist chills out with an emotionally resonant song cycle tinged by downtempo, lo-fi, avant-pop, and trip-hop. Guests include Haco, Ytamo, Sook-Yin Lee, Pink Navel and N NAO. Every Life Is A Light expands on Void's recent stylistic turn towards more languorous and mellow lo-fi production, foreshadowed by the drifting looseness and ambient bricolage of their preceding experimental sound-art record. This transitional sensibility now shapes more defined song structures and styles, with loops are given time and space to unspool, and rhythms shot through the softer-focus lens of trip-hop and dub. Every Life Is A Light swaps the twitchy insistence of Void's acclaimed early albums for a newfound lightness and suppleness, still imbued with all the restlessness, sonic detailing, and emotional resonance that made their name. The neurotic brokenmachine kinetics of earlier Void, summarized by Sasha Geffen as "drawing despair and wonder from within the vast unfeeling of digital communication" in an 8.0 Pitchfork review, may be chilling out, but Void is becoming an ever better conjurer of hauntological feeling. Every Life Is A Light summons this in a comparatively buoyant, benevolent, head-nodding journey more open to tenderness and modest joys. Perhaps it's the sound of Void at greater peace with themselves and the world, despite the bittersweet cost: even as it channels grief, memorializing comrades and companions recently deceased, this album wants light. Void's raw materials continue to draw heavily from samples (their own Walkman cassette fieldrecordings and songs by others) and from a wide community of musical guests. Vocalists Haco on "Time Zone" and Ytamo on "Cloud Level" help levitate what could be lost tracks from a mid-90s Too Pure Records compilation of skewed-lounge electronica. Canadian musician Sook-Yin Lee sings on lead single "Vertigo," a sinewy 80bpm tape-loop and bassline groove propelled by psychedelically-layered lyrics that eventually turn the song in on itself entirely, like Grace Jones' "Nightclubbing" covered by Animal Collective. One of Void's greatest hip-hop loves is the Ruby Yacht collective; charter member Pink Navel drops some brilliant verses on "Story Board." The album's two minimal tracks, an extended piano loop set to a slow beat and shimmering electronics on "Muffin-A Song For My Cat" and the languid sampled bass riff and breakbeat of "Event Flow," are perhaps most overtly `lofi chill.' Indeed the whole album could be said to sit adjacent to those viral (if not already AI-generated) genre trends, which maybe begs the question on a lot of our minds: can specificity and authenticity of musical materials still be heard, still meaningfully signify substance and difference, still matter? Perhaps a question that fades in comparison to the career break Void could catch by landing on generic streaming playlists. More likely, these tracks remain too off-kilter, too genuinely lo-fi and ineffable, and too disqualified by the status of its peasant rights-holders, to catch the algos. Context remains the poor cousin of content. Meanwhile Void marches on, as a tireless organizer of local music events, bouncing around and often living in DIY venue, depending on the latest apartment eviction. With an ubiquitous polaroid camera in tow, they also document each communal happening with a single shot (and often a blinding flash bulb): a memory and metaphor for lives illuminated preciously, singularly, `imperfectly' in the moment. Dozens of these polaroids adorn the album's back cover and inner sleeve art in grid-like montages, as a fitting analog for the careful construction, grainy intimate materiality, and ephemeral feeling of these songs. Every Life Is A Light is Joni Void's most coherent and congenial record while relinquishing none of their experimentalist acumen as a producer or emotional attunement as a composer. Instead these qualities flourish, on an album that lights a humble flame for the fragile promise of homespun creative collaboration as unalienated labour and therapeutic communion, making an enchantingly idiosyncratic contribution to downtempo sample music along the way. Thanks for listening.

Demonstrating the poignant power of experience + human connection + innate musicality + operating in the present moment, Jeff Mills' Spiral Deluxe collective unveil their second album - The Love Pretender. Driven by the free expression and creativity of improvised performance, Spiral Deluxe is an electronic jazz fusion project comprised electronic music visionary Jeff, along with legendary keyboardist Gerald Mitchell (Underground Resistance/ Los Hermanos), Japanese rocker Yumiko Ohno (Buffalo Daughter/Cornelius) on Moog synthesizer and the Japanese bassist, adopted New Yorker, Kenji "Jino" Hino - son of Terumasa Hino, the world famous jazz trumpeter. Together, the four key players formed a band centred around completely improvised journeys through sound.

During their unrestrained performances, what Jeff describes as sonic "conversations" arose between the musicians, as they each contributed to full-length live shows, and studio sessions. Within the boundless parameters of freeform spontaneity, they developed an unspoken understanding of one another, finding balance and poise within the unplanned performances. The resulting recordings have been used for three releases so far: Two EPs, Kobe Session (2016) and Tathata (2017), and their debut album Voodoo Magic in 2018. With The Love Pretender, we're presented with another stunning collection of "tracks" extracted from one long improv session.

With each musician proficient in their specialism and, of course, an all-out music lover, the communication between the group members became almost telepathic. Very little preparation was needed, and their performances flowed naturally and organically. This can be heard, and felt, throughout The Love Pretender. Tracks like 'The Soloist' evolve effortlessly, each new shift subtly influenced by one of the musicians nudging the conversation into a different phase, and the rest responding accordingly, or vice versa. It's music that embodies the true nature of mindfulness and letting go of fear. In their unstructured, liberated cocoon the artists thrive and create musical moments that have, fortunately, been captured for us all to immerse ourselves in. Jazzy notes fill the air, combined with electronic bass, synthesised beats, sparkling keys and an all-round warm and welcoming atmosphere, with the slight edge you can only get from improvised performance.

Sylvain Luc's posthumous appearance on the album is of significance too. The French guitarist died in March 2024 at the age of 59. His natural flair adds another dimension to the album, bringing a touch of that laid back 1980s American California Coast feeling to tracks such as 'Society's Man'. These contributions to the LP, recorded separately, add character - a final sprinkling of humanity to complement the aliveness and presence of this body of work. Three other musicians also added their creative energy to the project. They were; TOKU, a Japanese jazz musician who specialises in wind instruments, especially the cornet, trumpet and flugel horn. And there's Masa Shimizu, who also has wide-ranging with the guitar, as well as being a producer.

Themes on the album include the optimism one can have by simply trusting the process and trusting that everything will work out in the end. By playing together in the way they do, Spiral Deluxe place their trust in the mystery of what will happen next. Getting comfortable with not knowing is key to a sense of peace with regard to the future and this energy is vital to their collective musical output. By embracing the notion of the unknown, you become an eternal optimist, living in the moment, rather than projecting into the future. This cultivates excitement, an antidote to anxiety.

Meanwhile, the title alludes to the shifts and changes that have occurred in today's society, whereby it's possible to achieve success through pretending. The superficiality, and falsehood, that can often be presented via social media, can lead to questions about what's real and what's not. From AI to the fake personas that populate the dominant platforms, The Love Pretender speaks to a process that is symbolic of the time we're living in. Behaviour that has become acceptable in today's world, which may not have been as welcomed a few decades ago. But this is part of the cycle of life...

Jeff's intention with this music is to present it in high-fidelity, to be listened to over and over and over again. In post-recording he worked for hours to ensure the audio quality was as high as it could be. The goal is to create music that people can live with their entire lives, from his solo work to these masterful improvisations. Music that comes to life, music that has a voice we can replicate with our own vocals. Expressive, unstructured, and alive...

With The Love Pretender Jeff Mills continues his mission to experiment with music outside the bounds of what is typically expected. It's freeing, enlivening, vibrant and uniquely human. As ever, Jeff's visionary outlook and bold approach to musical performance and recording has produced a body of work that epitomises his often revolutionary capabilities. There's no pretending here, just pure unadulterated sonic transmissions from a wonderfully daring, inspiring and optimistic ensemble...

Cornelia Murr’s newest album, Run To The Center, began with a question: What do I want? The answer is everything, and it’s never felt more urgent.

On her first LP in six years, Run To The Center, on 22TWENTY, the London-born singer-songwriter delivers her most expansive, confident work yet. Across 10 hypnotic pop songs, Murr crafts a portrait of a woman in her thirties, standing triumphantly in uncertainty and asking life’s essential questions: How do you fit everything you want into a life? How can you want so much and still manage to live?

Run To The Center, which Murr will tour internationally, is her first release since the 2022 EP Corridor and her first LP since her 2018 debut Lake Tear of the Clouds, produced by Jim James of My Morning Jacket. Murr had long wanted to make another LP, but economic and global forces kept getting in the way. Finally, in the spring of 2023, Murr started working with producer Luke Temple (Adrienne Lenker, Hand Habits), adding to her roster of impressive collaborators. Temple, an old friend, helped Murr realize a sweeping album of her most tender, spectral pop yet.

The songs on Run To The Center reflect Murr’s need to explore desire and time. Some are new, born from spontaneous collaboration, while others had lingered in her mind for years. The album’s production, with muscular drums and buoyant synths, is more expansive than her previous work, swirling with a sparse futurism as Murr embraces life’s uncertainties.

Murr wrote much of the album while hunkering down in Red Cloud, Nebraska, restoring an old house. In this unexpected place, she found her center. The result is an album that explores big questions with beauty and humor, as Murr stands fully in her power.

2026 Repress

MOLA's music is the unadorned antithesis to a rosy world. She celebrates herself to death, pulls you into her inner chaos and does without the usual romanticising transfiguration of the merciless disorientation that catches up with you on the way home after the last cigarette.

MOLA knows better than anyone that she is a border commuter - and she has never made a secret of it. Perhaps it was fate that the course of events abandoned her shortly after her birth in Erba, Italy, in Germany's most austere metropolis. In Munich, where flying free and falling free are a little more complicated than in the cesspit of Berlin, where one would naturally place Isabella Streifeneder and her music if one didn't know better.

Temporarily reduced to intimacy, then escalating into iconic 80s "Purpel Rain" pathos, MOLA illustrates the emotional chaos that the inner dialogue of left and right brain triggers in her. Unconventional pop music that bundles the nonchalance of great soul anthems, the grace of the Italo-disco of the eighties and the ingenuousness of lascivious hip-hop bangers instead of trying to sound modern by force.

MOLA celebrates defeat, exposes life lies, criticises adulthood, documents radical mood swings. She balances along the abyss in her ball gown, jokes about things you don't joke about, praises and curses intoxication and love - "Vino Bianco no longer tastes like dolce vita, it only tastes like losing".

You can now see MOLA supporting Fatoni, Roy Bianco & the Abbrunzati Boys, Mayberg and Kaffkiez in a flurry of strobe lights after sold-out "nothing breaks me" shows in Munich, Cologne, Berlin & Hamburg. In addition to a festival season that couldn't have been more beautiful, they finally have a big tour of their own coming up for their next album, which will see the light of day in September.

After more than 40 festivals "Snow in Summer" on well-known stages like Lollapalooza Berlin, Rocken am Brocken, Puls Open Air, but also as support for Udo Lindenberg at the Hermann-Hesse-Festival, "Life is Beautiful", the darned second record, sounds almost cynical, ironic or simply naive? In the end, it doesn't matter, because when you are overcome by this spontaneous feeling that is far removed from any rationality, you don't ask any questions. It tastes like the melancholy of a summer in its last breaths, like the last drink of an uncompromisingly insane night.

There is sweating, pogoing and feeling together. Even where it hurts.
You are not just an onlooker or a silent spectator, but part of this empowering feeling of "we".

All the shades of green. Plants. Water. The absolute necessities of life. Music, too, is an absolute necessity. To capture both color and sound in a bottle to put atop a piano like a houseplant. A clock. A fern. Synesthesia. This music is meant for that. To close your eyes and see green. To drown in the color of piano. A melancholic covey that pulls hard on the heart strings musically and lyrically, brushed over with a plethora of improvisation in smooth watercolors.

With Tim Hill’s new trajectory, we are offered a fresh neuron sprawl, branching beyond lyrics in interrupted pieces of sound. He takes our reptilian brains and welds them to our unborn futures, placing us inside of his droplet. Here, we're forced to reflect out, something singular multiplies, nature brings her face in, something shifts, our speed changes, the Self refracts and what's left jumps on sustained lines that eventually arch into meditation milk. It becomes a karmic cleanse of the amygdala, a launch from normal feeling life. Tim takes the risk, committing to diving deeper into his own bottomless pool of art, gifting us with sensory treats that dilate our old perimeters. It's sky as theatre, handing out everything but answers to questions. And where do we go? Where starlight mingles. Where minds never land.

A seasoned musician in all forms, Tim Hill has toured the world as a keyboardist, guitarist, saxophonist, and drummer, with a long time stint with LA group the Allah Las, and well known acts such as Nick Waterhouse, Curtis Harding, PAINT, and others.

Loyle Carner will release his highly anticipated sophomore record, 'Not Waving, But Drowning' on 19 April via AMF Records.

'Not Waving, But Drowning' follows Loyle's BRIT (Best Male, Best Newcomer) and Mercury Prize nominated, top 20 debut 'Yesterday's Gone'. The bedrock of honest and raw sentimentality that you heard on 'Yesterday's Gone' left an inextinguishable mark on music in general and UK Hip Hop in particular, standing out as an ageless, bulletproof debut.

'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's new album, gives yet more evidence - as if it were needed - of his razor-sharp flow and his unique storytelling ability. Yes, he can rap, but he allies that with the sensitivity of a poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, 'a woman from the skies', and he's moving out.

It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator.

Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Yotam Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. 'Ottolenghi' the first single from the album was featured on the BBC Radio 1 B-list, BBC 6 Music A-list and has already been streamed over 5 million times.

Loyle refers to real life for everything, the title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving, But Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend Rebel Kleff after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead.

Loyle also has his own personal black consciousness movement. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). With no real emotional ties to his biological father, but a deep connection with a deceased step-father, where does a young child turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain on 'Looking Back'.

An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Kwes, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place.
Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or a society that lets so many down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. Loyle's 2019 Spring tour - which includes London's Roundhouse - sold out within 20 minutes of being on sale.

Not Waving, But Drowning



A rapper that raps about family is hard to find. The boys in the 'hood' tend not to be that interested in how much a 'brother' loves his mother, or how much he misses his dad, or even how much he misses his best friend. The boys in the 'hood' tend to be obsessed with the size of their cars, girls, bank accounts, and other personal 'possessions'. Loyle Carner's Mercury and BRIT Prize nominated debut 'Yesterday's Gone' (Released 2017), made it clear that he wasn't that kind of rapper. In fact, every time I talk to him about his work we talk about the world, and we tended to confuse ourselves by calling his work rap, poems, or songs, sometimes in the same sentence. They are in truth all of these things.



Here's some poetry.



Honestly I need them.

I hate them but I grieve them

I think I've finally found the reason

Trust

Like the fire needs the air.

I won't burn unless you're there.





'Not Waving, But Drowning', Loyle's forthcoming new album, gives us yet more evidence, (if it were needed), that he still has what rappers call, flow, but he hasn't lost any of his story telling qualities. Yes, the boy can rap, but a rapper with the sensitivity of a true poet, the observational skills of a novelist, and warmth of your best friend. The album opens with 'Dear Jean', a letter to his mother in which he's telling her that he has found the love of his life, (a woman from the skies), and he's moving out. He really loves the woman from the skies, but he still loves his mum, and so he reassures her that there is no competition, and tells her that 'She's not behind me or behind you, but beside we and beside two', his words. Or to put it another way, moving out without moving out. My words.



It goes without saying that Loyle's music is hard to categorise, but what is even more impressive is that for someone who grew up listening to Mos Def, Biggie Smalls, Roots Manuva, and Wu Tang Clan, he doesn't sound like any of them. Although he might from time to time give lyrical nods to them, he's no imitator. He says finding his own voice was something he always found easy. Although young, (in terms of a musical career), he has confidence in his own words and his own voice, and has never been tempted to sound like he's been hanging out in the USA, or rolling in 'Grime' on the mean streets of East London. And so when it comes to the creative process he doesn't simply find a beat to jump on and ride. Beats are important, but they are tenderly layered with samples, keyboards, or live drums, all imaginatively assembled for the laying on of words. Some tracks start with the idea, some with poetry, and some with a verse from a singer or some other melodic inspiration, but there is no formula.



Here's some poetry.



Don't hold any memories of us

Rather hold you everyday until the memories are dust

Yo we only caught the train

Cos you know I hate the bus





A prolific reader, who has dyslexia is hard to find. Add ADHD (Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) to that and life should become even more difficult. To deal with your difficulties you devise coping strategies, which can differ from person to person. Loyle loves cooking. There are two tracks on this album named after chefs. The British-Israeli chef Ottolenghi, and the now deceased Italian chef Antonio Carluccio. Loyle describes himself as 'weird' because he is happy to read a cookbook as if he was reading a novel or a book of poetry. He has opened a cookery school for young adults not just because he loves food and wants to make more of it, but because it is one of the few things that can focus the ADHD mind. And when it comes to his other love, football, his approach is the same. Focus. He wanted to be a striker he says, up front scoring goals, but found his best position was in midfield because he was able to focus, check options, and see passes ahead of time, providing passes for other players just when they needed them. He says, 'You don't grow out of ADHD, you grow into it.' Loyle is also working with Levi's® on their music project where he is mentoring young musicians over a six month period, culminating at Liverpool Sound City festival.



More poetry.



When the going is tough

I wait till it falls on deaf ears

Hearsay

Without the boundaries of love



He also said, 'Ask most people and they will say that they love their mothers, but most are not going to rap about her'. On his first album Loyle's mum Jean wrote about the 'scribble of a boy' that growing up would take things apart to see how they worked. On this album she speaks with pride about a man who has found his place in the world.



Yes, poetry.



I'm still looking for the answers

Trying to find the right questions

Still waiting for my fathers

But can't break them in to sections



This poetry is serious. Loyle has his own personal black consciousness movement. He told me that he always felt safe at home, and being the darkest one in the family never meant a thing, but then when he had to face the outside world he felt hostility. It shook him up. Now he had to start asking questions, but what were the questions. This is serious. When he refers to his 'fathers' in the verse above taken from the track 'Looking Back' he really is referring to two fathers. His biological father, a black man who he knows, but knows very little of, and his step father, a poet and musician who happens to be a white man but died a sudden unexpected death from epilepsy (SUDEP). So to whom would a young black (or mixed race) kid turn He succinctly captures many of the great, unspoken, cultural and historical paradoxes of multicultural Britain when he says, 'My great grandfather could of owned my other one.' We are a people descended from enslaved people on one hand, and enslavers on the other, something we are still struggling to come to terms with, and this can be apparent in one family. A big book could have told you that, but here we get it in one line on the track, Looking Back.





Loyle refers to real life for everything. The album is peppered with captured moments that he records on his phone. These moments can range from conversations with taxi drivers, to capturing the moment when England scores a goal in the world cup. The title of 'Yesterday's Gone' came from a song of his step father, the title of his new album 'Not Waving but Drowning' comes from a poem by his grandfather, which in turn came from a Stevie Smith poem. What you hear on the track 'Krispy' is real. He is pouring his heart out to his best friend after their relationship went downhill, he invites him on the track to say his piece but he doesn't turn up, so we get a flugel solo instead. Yes people, this is real.



An album like this is hard to find. It is for those who like their Hip Hop to have soul, and their soul to have spirit, this is an album for those who have, (I'm sorry, I'm going to say it), emotional intelligence. This is because it works on so many levels, but it is reflecting the personality of its creator. There are a host of collaborators here, Jorja Smith, Rebel Kleff, Kiko Bun, Jordan Rakei, Sampha, Tom Misch and more, but none are overpowering. They blend righteously into place. Loyle is not bitter with people who have let him down, or the society that has let him down, but the combination of anger and love he has gives his voice the perfect blend of strength and vulnerability. This might be a coming of age album, but it's also a coming of ageless album. His first album worked, and this second album is a continuation of that work. Not creating a form, but being formless, as someone like Bruce Lee once said.

And here's some poetry from mum.



We talked long in to the darkest hours

Until we saw the burnished sky

And our eyes stung

As our words blurred and became thoughts

As we were silenced by the dawn

We clung to each other like sailors in a storm

Denison Witmer returns with a new collection of ten vibrant and pensive folk-pop songs recorded and produced by Sufjan Stevens, his long-time friend and collaborator. Anything At All finds Denison in a suitably reflective mood, mining sublime revelation from an ordinary, domesticated life. Topics like bird watching, carpentry, houseplants, and hiking offer insights into bigger, existential questions about life, death, meaning, and purpose. What are we doing with the precious time we have left on this earth? Whether it's spent making clocks, gathering berries, planting trees, or putting the kids to bed at night, these songs suggest that a life lived with thoughtfulness and care can lead to deeper joy and fulfillment. Recorded sporadically over a period of two years, Anything At All was primarily created at Sufjan's Catskills studio during the pandemic, with additional sessions recorded by Andy Park, in Seattle, WA. Contributors include Stevens and Park as well as Sam Evian, Hannah Cohen, Sean Lane, and Keenan O'Meara, amongst others. The album's musical aesthetic marries Denison's folksy, Mennonite vibe with Sufjan's signature bells and whistles: lush strings and woodwinds, women's choir, and an occasional jazzy saxophone weave their way around Denison's matter-of-fact vocals and acoustic guitar. These are simple folk songs with bursts of awe and wonder.

The world became another since the release of »Decadent yet Depraved« and Belief Defect’s reflection of it: now darker, political, honest – end times in Cinemascope. When the duo reunited in the studio after the 2 year fracture COVID inflicted on reality, the album that had been on pause all this time seemed insufficient against whatever life had morphed into, while humanity hid from itself. Finishing an album coherent to the present moment took prolonged studio shut-ins that proved to be as cathartic as the struggle sessions of the cultural revolution must have been. »Desire and Discontent« unfolds like a parable, structured by subsonic frequencies that give arrangements a solid gravity, dissonant chord progressions resulting in coherent movements, punctuated by human-like voices over slow, suspenseful melodies that come into being without the listener’s awareness. Contributing to the album with machine-like precision drumming is Merlin Ettore, vocals from Anna Gartner and the artwork of Juan Mendez (Silent Servant).

Pink Vinyl. Enter Now Brightness feels different for Nadia. It is an album, she says, of departure and questioning, that has reminded her how songwriting can be "the most useful thing to do with pain and joy and thoughts and feelings and anger." That through music we can find great change. "I'm so much better off now that it exists,"she says. "Now feels like a new time." On this record, Reid moves ever further from her earlier folk inclinations, establishing a sound that is distinctly her own. Enter Now Brightness is a record of poise and great beauty, the sound of a cellular shift, of pain giving way to tenderness and joy. It takes its title from a passage in a book Reid was reading from a line that seemed to call out to her from the page: `Brightness entered the study.' "It was the image of opening the curtain, or turning the light on, or of standing in the wings of a theatre and waiting to go on stage. It's the idea of life beginning now."

Rats on Rafts descend further into the brooding wasteland on their new album ‘Deep Below’, a darker, slower, eroded sound from the Rotterdam band. Highlighting different shades within the monochrome landscape compared to their previous, more colourful albums: they dive deeper into their psyche, questioning our relationships with nature, religion and each other. Echoes of The Cure, Cocteau Twins and Slowdive seem present yet so many different influences make up an album that only they could create. It sees Rats on Rafts coming of age whilst raising their heads from the underground. Forever drifting into new territory, ‘Deep Below’ is certainly their darkest and most cohesive work to date. True to their analogue recording process, the tape machines, reverbs, echoes and vital new ingredients: the Soundcraft 1s mixing desk (Used by Lee Perry) and the eerie sounding Eminent String Ensemble synth all amplify the authentic sounds of the 1980’s without sounding like a relic. ‘Japanese Medicine’ is a haunting minor chord piece driven by debris of icy chiming guitars, galloping drums and waves of lush synths. lyrically it gathers memories of teenage friendship, littered with cigarettes, life-changing records, punctuated with the dark thoughts and the demons they summon up. Though the band have kept the songs relatively slow-paced and sparse, deeper ruminations of mortality and alienation creep through the cracks. ‘Nature Breaks’, the most propulsive song on the record, thematically locks into this notion, as Fagan meditates on human impulse in the face of abject survival, and how those situations often unlock one's true self. You may conclude Rotterdam’s Rats on Rafts relationship with the past is complicated. ‘The Moon Is Big’ (2011) ‘Tape Hiss’ (2015) and ‘Excerpts From Chapter 3’ (2021) are truly gripping analog timestamps of a band refusing to give in to the supposed ‘progress of the world’ instead forging their own way each time. ‘Deep Below’ is Rats on Rafts’ most minimalist work since their 2011 debut. Where the latter album was fuelled by a brash bravado, these recordings meditate on sentiments of doubt, loss, and ageing. “One of the great contemporary European rock bands” Louder Than War

Enter Now Brightness feels different for Nadia. It is an album, she says, of departure and questioning, that has reminded her how songwriting can be “the most useful thing to do with pain and joy and thoughts and feelings and anger.” That through music we can find great change. “I’m so much better off now that it exists,” she says. “Now feels like a new time.” On this record, Reid moves ever further from her earlier folk inclinations, establishing a sound that is distinctly her own. Enter Now Brightness is a record of poise and great beauty, the sound of a cellular shift, of pain giving way to tenderness and joy. It takes its title from a passage in a book Reid was reading from a line that seemed to call out to her from the page: ‘Brightness entered the study.’ “It was the image of opening the curtain, or turning the light on, or of standing in the wings of a theatre and waiting to go on stage. It’s the idea of life beginning now.” "Nadia embraces a full-bodied sound halfway between Haim’s sophisticated pop sparkle and Sharon Van Etten’s full-throated songcraft" - The Guardian

Having thrived throughout the underground realms for the last ten years, Question built a respectable body of work displaying a sound meeting constant progression, a vision sharpened and perfected with each output. Six years following the debut full-length recording, the Mexican quintet unleashes “Reflections of the Void”, a grand tome of sheer Death Metal might in eight tracks that take Question’s sonic traits and overall concept to a whole new level of magnitude. In perfect unison with the majestic Shoggoth Kinetics artwork that adorns the album’s cover, “Reflections of the Void” stands apart and invites the listener to a pathway beyond the horizon, a detailed journey on life and death and yonder. Such carefully threaded concept meets its aural accomplice as Question carries a cloud of impending doom, a dense and arrestive atmosphere on brilliantly crafted songs that drink from the fountain of the past yet blistering in its very own with a striking sense of dynamics which assuredly puts the group in the major leagues of Death Metal mastery. Obscure, threatening riffs blaze through the first moments of the record, trading somber licks and faster belligerent attacks, yet never failing to enter a redundant path, for a tempo change or a dissonant endeavor spells unexpectedly and takes the listener on an intense rollercoaster. Fiercely crafted, the pulsing bass impulses and organic drumming patterns exhale as the pounding heart of “Reflections of the Void”. Technical, precise, enter a scorching performance in taste and dexterity, never sounding dull or plastic but shining for its soulful presence, side by side with the dazzling production, utterly potent and vibrant, taking the defying arrangements to greater extents. In and above this sonic frenzy, a vociferated voice grunts the illusions of our existence with a resonating dark tone spawned directly from the imposing void. As this opus resumes into the boundless vacuum, we are left with a sense of distress and awe. Question crafted a work for the ages, one which with every listening reveals a further dimension, a hidden mystery, just like the classics in the unholy pantheon to which this opus will surely belong someday.

“Reflections of the Void” is released under the banner of Chaos Records.

On December 6, 2024, Randomer will return with a new EP titled MTY-012: Everything Happens for No Reason, released via Anetha’s label, Mama Told Ya.

After a reflective hiatus, the UK prodigy is highly anticipated and ready to deliver meaningful music. The EP features five emotionally charged tracks—four produced by Randomer and one co-produced by Randomer and Anetha. Presented on a single vinyl, the release conveys a deeper message: life’s unpredictability can be embraced, reminding us that we can find our way even in chaos and randomness.

Torn between the meaningful and the meaningless, Randomer channeled his time into crafting music shaped by his extensive study of melodies, subconsciously

seeking to bring harmony to the world. The result is a cathartic journey across five tracks, each evoking a broad spectrum of emotions and inviting listeners to explore the depth of their feelings. Drawing from the music that deeply influenced him, Randomer traverses various genres and moods, seamlessly blending techno, trance, techstep, and sacred choral music in a perpetual act of personal reinvention.

Let the choir sing I Saw the World Melt (A1) right before my eyes, and let the people chant my melancholic melody. Nervous Breakdown. Lost in the riffs with dis ting from London, DHM Jam (A2) fuels me with adrenaline, I’m flying through memories, urged to move on. Yet, I’m still trapped : the clock shows Home Invasion (A3)—better start running. We will survive. But where’s my harmony? I Can’t Believe (B1) it. Why me? Why us? In this trance state of mind, I have so many questions, but those voices on the other side won’t answer. We’re doomed anyway, so why not plug in like the Two Perfect Machines (B2) we are, until the end.

For this new EP, Australian visual artist Nic Hamilton has been commissioned to create a poignant artwork alongside two melting teasers for MTY-012. As always, the design is expertly crafted by Diplomatie Studio, while the mastering is entrusted to Six Bit Deep, ensuring a polished and immersive listening experience.

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

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

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

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

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

Brent S. Sirota

Mischievous festa punk meets astral steppas, kalaedoscopic free ambient meets harsh noise, scattered amen breaks with IDM and free jazz trumpets meets the earthly plod of digidub. It can only be Felinto from Sao Paulo.
UTOPIA MILHÃO honors the life forces that allow us to transform the darkness where dreams reside. The album brings a new moment of intimacy for Felinto's musical expression flowing through dirty, raw, dense and brilliant dub fractals, ready to transform unexpectedly into a new shape then another, and another, and another... featuring collaborations with magical people: Sarine (Deafkids), Douglas Leal (Deafkids), Guizado (Afrobombas), Sandra X, Paula Rebellato (Rakta), Lorena Hollander, Yao Bobby, Kiko Dinucci, Paulo Papaleo, Cint Murphy, Rodrigo Lima.
Felinto is a political agitator and musician at the heart of the São Paulo underground - a movement that confronts the various effects of the capitalist system of racial, sexual, ,,,,, and 22222 lawand material oppression.

His provocations range from yoga for children and parenting studies (SACYOGA), theatre (PROJETO CRIOULOS and PROJETO JAMES BALDWIN), web series highlighting the black presence in electronic music in São Paulo (MODULAÇÃO PRETA), reflective groups on gender violence and masculinities, occupation of public spaces for political art q(Coletivo Sistema Negro), artistic curatorship (Residência SOMSOCOSMOS) and studies with sound as a tool in conflict mediation practices. Felinto composes for film, theatre and immersive installations such as MEGACITIES presented at the National Gallery of Victoria, Canada in 2023.

He is currently researching - as part of a masters project in clinical psychology - the collectivised dream realities of black people. A field of action that contemporary anthropology, psychoanalysis and psychology call ONIROPOLITICA.

His interest in affinity groups, autonomous networks of micro-political articulation and penal abolitionism led him to the questions: what do black people dream about within the permanent context of civil war and state violence (like the one in Brazil)? How does this experience create dreams and how does the dream affect the construction of identities beyond the boundaries established by the capitalist unconscious?

The Invisible Road: Original Recordings, 1985–1990 compiles an unheard, previously unreleased body of recordings by Sussan Deyhim and Richard Horowitz, dissidents from diametric backgrounds who met during the heady days of Downtown New York in the 1980s. This collection reveals the creative and life partners’ radical shared vision of avant-garde pop in all of its boundary pushing freedom, combining Deyhim’s singular approach to vocalization, Horowitz’s invention of new musical languages, and touchstones of traditional music from around the world, creating a new music that ultimately retains a voice entirely its own. Despite their difference in backgrounds and respective journeys, at the time of their meeting in the early 1980s in New York City, Sussan Deyhim and Richard Horowitz were both products of the search for freedom and understanding (and resultant awakenings) that swept the globe and helped culturally define the late 1960s and 70s. Deyhim, born and raised in Tehran, spent her teens dancing with Iran’s Pars National Ballet company, performing weekly on Iranian national television, and travelling her home country studying with master folk musicians and dancers, before relocating to Belgium and joining Maurice Béjart’s prestigious Béjart Ballet of the 20th Century. Horowitz, born and raised in Buffalo, New York, had spent much of the decade before abroad, first departing for Paris under the shadows of the Vietnam War, where he studied piano, Eastern philosophy, and became entrenched the city’s free jazz scene, playing with the likes of Steve Lacy, Anthony Braxton, and Alan Silva, before embarking south to Morocco where his friendship with Paul Bowles helped cultivate a deep passion for the country’s musical traditions and a shift in his musical practice.



The pair met by chance sometime in 1981 at Noise New York, a small studio on West 34th Street founded by the musician and recording engineer, Frank Eaton, as a utopian creative laboratory that beckoned artists and bands like Arthur Russell, Christian Marclay, Liquid Liquid and Butthole Surfers into its orbit. Both artists had recently relocated to the city, Horowitz having recently released his debut album, Oblique Sequences (Solo Nai Improvisations), on the legendary Paris based imprint Shandar, and fallen in with members of New York avant-garde like La Monte Young, Jon Hassell, David Byrne, and Brian Eno, and Deyhim having begun to more actively incorporate singing into her practice, notably recording a vocal score for choreography she was doing at La MaMa Experimental Theatre.



Initially bonding over a cassette tape of field recordings made by Paul Bowles that had been given to mutual friend and writer Brian Cullman (seeking answers for Ornette Coleman’s question “what is the sound of sound”), their earliest collaboration was documented on Horowitz’s 1981 album, Eros In Arabia, with Deyhim contributing vocals to the track “Queen Of Saba.” Over the coming years, their deep connection would routinely gravitate them into the studio, culminating in the body of recordings that would appear on their 1986 album for Crammed Discs, Desert Equations: Azax Attra. Unknown to nearly all but the artists, laying in wait over the decades on numerous multi-track and stereo reels, DAT tapes, and reference cassettes, were a vast array of recordings made by Deyhim and Horowitz bookending Desert Equations. The 13 pieces represented on The Invisible Road: Original Recordings, 1985–1990 were recorded largely between Noise New York and Daylight Studio in Brussels, during a period that Deyhim describes the partnership between herself and Horowitz’s as seeking a music “free of any specific cultural reference, with a personal musical signature,” blossoming into a body of sonority that embraced the energy of contemporary boundary pushing pop and the avant garde, filtered through their mutual love and study of various musical traditions from across the globe and deep engagement with the ideas and tactics of experimental music.



Undeniably rooted in Horowitz’s study of the North Africa ney and the music of the Berber and Gnawa cultures during his time in Morocco, Deyhim’s deep engagement with the folk traditions of Iran, and the couple’s immersion in the interconnected Downtown underground music scenes, each piece on The Invisible Road offers its own vision creative and cultural hybridity. Deyhim sings in both English and Farsi, as well as a composite tongue that she developed by drawing upon numerous indigenous vocal techniques from around the world, intuitively responding to Horowitz’s simultaneous sound syntax forming and combining a wide range synthetic and acoustic instrumentation, and experimental tape techniques, within a visionary series of free-standing expressions.