UK techno lynchpin James Ruskin celebrates 30 years of Blueprint with a remastered edition of his 'Further Design' LP, releasing 4th September 2026. Founded by Ruskin and Richard Polson in 1996, the infl uential label has spent three decades documenting uncompromising techno through releases from the likes of Rommek, Kr!z, Truncate, and many more, with 'Further Design' originally landing in 1998. The anniversary celebrations have already seen Mark Broom revisit seminal Regis recordings on the 'Power Is Neutral' EP, with further releases from Kerrie, Nastia, and more to follow, alongside a merchandise run later this year.
James Ruskin has been a constant presence in techno for over three decades. He defi ned the sound of British techno through his DJ sets, productions, and the releases on his infl uential Blueprint label. His stripped-back, functional, and forward-thinking sound has remained utterly uncompromising, with performances at clubs and festivals around the world while never straying from underground ideals. Substance over trends has always been his MO, through a catalogue spanning Blueprint, Tresor, and numerous collaborations that remain timeless.
The purposeful titles of the tracks on this essential album hint at the minimalist approach to sound. This is bold, linear techno with 'Enter', 'Below', and 'Indirect World' kicking off with rolling low ends and smart sound designs that even now sound futuristic. The likes of 'The Divide' bring spangled synths and crunchy percussive textures that jerk you into motion, while 'Time And Place' is an immersive cosmic odyssey and 'Unknown Destination' melts the mind with liquid synth work that loops around hypotonic rhythms. 'Work' is another perfectly calibrated cut with meticulous percussive placement and the shimmering of bells that dissolve space and time.
It is testament to Ruskin's original vision that 'Further Design' remains as evocative today as it was upon its release, full of otherworldly imagery and grooves that continue to move dance fl oors around the world.
On their third album, FANGS, London collective HMLTD have created an entirely new genre: Götherdammerüng (or ÜberGöth). Predictably unpredictable, it could not be further away from their last outing, 2023 rock opera The Worm. The sixteen-piece orchestra has been traded in for Ableton, the timpani and violins replaced with side-chained four-to-the-floor and rave synths, and the gospel choir swapped for guttural gothic howling and black metal screams. The result is both unique and terrifying: a total reinvention and rehabilitation of the goth genre, through the looking glass of modern electronic and doomscroll-era dance music.
This new beginning was accompanied by a change in personnel, with Theo Spark and Andrei Martynchyk joining the fray alongside original members Henry Spychalski and Duc Peterman. Decamping to a ruined château in the Loire Valley, the quartet became obsessed with vampire lore, and the EBM and goth sound that inspired their early work: Fad Gadget, DAF, Nitzer Ebb, Suicide and Bauhaus. FANGS also points to more contemporary influences like Crystal Castles, German hardcore, 2000s blog-house a la Justice, and 2020s sleazepop.
The world crafted in FANGS is full of cosmic pessimism, glowing horror, imperceptible evil and digital dismemberment, ancient curses and ruined castles, Vampires. But it is also a thoroughly fun, and funny, record, as danceable as it is deep. Born of the club, some tracks would not sound out of place on Brat. Like a Smiths song which sounds happy and carefree until your brain tunes in to the misery of the lyrics, it can be listened to - and enjoyed - on two levels. One can get lost in the throb of bass and ludic synths, or tune into the horror of the lyrics which overlay them.
FANGS attempts to offer up a reflection to a culture that - like a Vampire - has lost its own. The result is something not only thoroughly modern, original, and inventive - but that feels genuinely dangerous and potent. FANGS delights in this ambiguity: simultaneously indicting decadence, decay, and moral rot, while luxuriating in its intoxication by it. Cacophonous sub-bass becomes a chthonic call of the void; seraphic rave synths become the screech of Valkyries; four-to-the-floor becomes a deathly funeral march. Vampire apocalypse.
It’s rare for a hardcore punk band to make four full-length albums, and rarer still for the fourth album to be the band’s masterpiece. Yet Paratiisi, the fourth album from Helsinki punks Kohti Tuhoa, stands as the undeniable coup de grâce of a catalog overflowing with classic hardcore punk. If you’re already a fan, it’ll comfort you to know Paratiisi leans heavily on the strengths Kohti Tuhoa has possessed since their earliest releases: a timeless sound that combines UK82 drive and hooks with dramatic metal flourishes; a captivating vocalist with the perfect balance of grit and clarity, who can both howl like a banshee and carry a tune; and a particularly Finnish way with a driving, medium-fast tempo. But for all the continuities with Kohti Tuhoa’s excellent previous records, Paratiisi almost feels like the work of a new band. The riffs and choruses that anchor the album are impossibly catchy; Paratiisi bulges with huge moments that practically force you to air guitar and sing along (even if you don’t speak a word of Finnish), the band’s peerless chops and the rich and clear recording driving these climaxes to dizzying highs. But while the hooks are memorable, there isn’t a moment on Paratiisi that feels dumbed-down or overly familiar.
In fact, the album feels notably ambitious, pulling influences from across punk’s historical and aesthetic breadth and digesting them seamlessly into Kohti Tuhoa’s distinctive sound. The lyrics (don’t worry: English translations are included!) meet the same high bar as the music. They’re direct, assertive, and punk, but they’re also subtle and insightful, whether they’re tackling huge issues like microplastics or sharing a very personal account of a sexual assault and its aftermath. And then there’s Paratiisi’s most unexpected moment, “Eliitin Psykopatia,” a free punk freakout in the tradition of “Why (Reprise)” and “L.A. Blues.” If Kohti Tuhoa’s brief foray into free jazz tries your patience, though, don’t worry, because after three minutes of building tension, they reward you with what is bound to be the best riff of 2026, a clash of chords potent enough to blow holes through walls the world over. Paratiisi is the sound of one hardcore punk’s most exciting bands at the height of their powers.
On their third album, FANGS, London collective HMLTD have created an entirely new genre: Götherdammerüng (or ÜberGöth). Predictably unpredictable, it could not be further away from their last outing, 2023 rock opera The Worm. The sixteen-piece orchestra has been traded in for Ableton, the timpani and violins replaced with side-chained four-to-the-floor and rave synths, and the gospel choir swapped for guttural gothic howling and black metal screams. The result is both unique and terrifying: a total reinvention and rehabilitation of the goth genre, through the looking glass of modern electronic and doomscroll-era dance music.
This new beginning was accompanied by a change in personnel, with Theo Spark and Andrei Martynchyk joining the fray alongside original members Henry Spychalski and Duc Peterman. Decamping to a ruined château in the Loire Valley, the quartet became obsessed with vampire lore, and the EBM and goth sound that inspired their early work: Fad Gadget, DAF, Nitzer Ebb, Suicide and Bauhaus. FANGS also points to more contemporary influences like Crystal Castles, German hardcore, 2000s blog-house a la Justice, and 2020s sleazepop.
The world crafted in FANGS is full of cosmic pessimism, glowing horror, imperceptible evil and digital dismemberment, ancient curses and ruined castles, Vampires. But it is also a thoroughly fun, and funny, record, as danceable as it is deep. Born of the club, some tracks would not sound out of place on Brat. Like a Smiths song which sounds happy and carefree until your brain tunes in to the misery of the lyrics, it can be listened to - and enjoyed - on two levels. One can get lost in the throb of bass and ludic synths, or tune into the horror of the lyrics which overlay them.
FANGS attempts to offer up a reflection to a culture that - like a Vampire - has lost its own. The result is something not only thoroughly modern, original, and inventive - but that feels genuinely dangerous and potent. FANGS delights in this ambiguity: simultaneously indicting decadence, decay, and moral rot, while luxuriating in its intoxication by it. Cacophonous sub-bass becomes a chthonic call of the void; seraphic rave synths become the screech of Valkyries; four-to-the-floor becomes a deathly funeral march. Vampire apocalypse.
By the time Michael Nau completed Popfly, the songs felt less like compositions than companions. Arriving in fragments, notebook lines, and fleeting observations, these pieces kept company for years until taking their final form. The result is one of Nau's most openhearted, expansive records, both homespun and otherworldly at once. Radiant folk melodies, tape-warped textures, and flashes of everyday wonder coexist in perfect balance on Popfly. Nau has never been a songwriter who forces songs into existence. Instead, he follows them, trusting intuition over agenda and allowing songs to gradually reveal themselves. Writing and recording often blur together, with melodies evolving before lyrics are finished and stray recordings forming the basis for new songs. Popfly showcases these creative detours: thoughtful folk songs, sonic experiments, and accidental beauty transformed into fully realized compositions. Many songs began at home, growing in meaning. Since he entered the Vermont studio, Little Jamaica, with longtime friend and collaborator Benny Yurco, many of them had already lived several lives. "Studio recording feels like covering my own songs," Nau says. This idea flows throughout: performances are lived-in, feeling effortless, as if assembling itself. The title track carries a flicker of wonder in its simple observations. "New Slack" moves with the loose confidence of a song content to follow its own path. On "Lost Station Hideaway," soft static and fading signals become something strangely comforting, as if the song itself is being broadcast from somewhere just beyond reach. Family and friendship are deeply woven throughout the record. Nau's children contribute vocals, bringing warmth and spontaneity to the album's communal spirit, with longtime collaborator and wife Whitney McGraw lending her serene voice. The harmonies that drift from them extend the album's central impulse of people gathering to make something beautiful. Across Popfly, loose-limbed folk songs mingle with homespun psych-pop, porchside country-folk, dreamlike atmospherics, and quietly profound observations. The record moves with the ease of conversation among old friends, finding beauty in tiny revelations, strange coincidences, and everyday mysteries. The record is full of transmissions from different moments in Nau's life, stitched together by instinct, affection, and time. Taken together, they form a portrait of a life spent paying close attention to the world and its small miracles.
The songs of Jules de Corte are condensed, folky gems with an almost effortless charm. Poised between the intimate and the universal, between lightness and darkness, they touch on religion, love, loss, and the small dramas of everyday life. Yet they resist easy translation. Packed with wordplay, de Corte’s signature alliterations, humor, and local cultural references, the songs inevitably lose something in another language. Still, when a Belgian quartet of improvisers takes them on, joined by American songwriter Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, the songs are reborn rather than merely transposed: literal fidelity gives way to interpretation, and what is lost in words is often gained in spirit.
Even without tracing every change, their overall effect is fascinating. Songs are slowed down, often doubled in length, and filled with unexpected musical intrusions. They gain fuller arrangements and are placed in an entirely new context. Replacing de Corte’s piano with guitar can create a radically different vibe, as in “Mariska.” An added solo can heighten the contrast between childlike perspective and the almost matter- of-fact brutality of “Little Anita.” In “The Stranger,” another use of contrast unsettles the everyday harmony, transforming it with a subtle, disorienting twist.
Ultimately, these performances show that interpretation is not successful simply because it is literal. With the groundwork laid by Linus, Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy further liberated the songs from their original versions. Lyrics and melodies become malleable, shaped by his recognizable cadences, timbre, and personal quirks. Like his collaborators, he allows himself the freedom to bend the material to his own approach. There is no radical break between this performance and his other records. Listeners familiar with the originals may be puzzled at first; for those new to de Corte, it is a wholly different experience.
Does it really matter that the original “Little Jesus, Mighty God” is a 100-second nugget combining playful naivete with biblical fervor? In the hands of these five explorers, the song becomes an intriguing contemplation, with subtle musical shades and a recitation in which every syllable carries a maturity that offers a new perspective. Then there is “The Outsider,” which feels as genuine as any original American folk song. The musicians’ process is more than reinterpretation—it is reimagination, bringing new musical compatibility and emotional depth. Whether that depth was there from the start, waiting to be uncovered, or created in the process is beside the point. What matters is that Linus and Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy have made the essence of these songs their own, paying homage yet dancing to their own tune.
Linus is the Belgian duo of guitarist and banjo player Ruben Machtelinckx and reedist and synthesiser player Thomas Jillings. Across five previous albums — Onland (2014), Linus + Skarbø / Leroux (2015), Felt Like Old language at the crossroads of folk, jazz, minimalism, chamber music and free improvisation. Their music is adventurous, shaped by a particular sensitivity to texture, timbre and the subtle interaction between musicians.
What began as a duo gradually grew into a flexible musical world, bringing Linus together with musicians such as Nils Økland, Ingar Zach, Niels Van Heertum, Øyvind Skarbø and Frederik Leroux. Yet each new constellation has remained recognisably Linus: music in which carefully considered forms leave space for intuition, interaction and the unexpected.
For their sixth album, Linus takes a new step by moving into the world of song and text. Inspired by a shared love for the late Dutch songwriter Jules De Corte, the album is a reimagining of De Corte’s unique repertoire. More than simply interpreting De Corte’s songs, they absorb and reshape them, bringing them into dialogue with their own musical language. In keeping with this open approach, they are joined by celebrated vocalist Bonnie “Prince” Billy. With albums such as 1999’s I See a Darkness appearing on several greatest album lists, Bonnie “Prince” Billy is a cult figure in the alternative folk scene, and his highly intuitive way of singing seamlessly matches the subtle interplay Linus has developed over more than a decade.
Seven years after the haunting resonance of Voids, electronic pioneer Martyn returns to the album format with Music For Existing. Arriving on 15 May 2026, the record is more than a collection of tracks; it is a profound exploration of what it means to remain devoted to a craft in an era of relentless noise.
The album’s announcement is heralded by the lead single "Heavy Sound." The track serves as the perfect bridge between Martyn’s past and present - a masterclass in tension and release that previews the album’s dialogue between the producer, the musicians, and the audience. We live inside a culture that has prioritised and monetised restlessness. The modern apparatus runs on the continuous production of "next," driven by algorithms that value novelty over depth.
Music For Existing serves as a love letter to the communal act of making music - something that is both healing and inherently defiant. For Martyn, a musician often finds solace in musical conversation with others; in the moment we press record, we simply exist together. This record is an invitation to build human infrastructure around what we love, leaning into the fluid nature of community and seeing exactly where the music takes us when we choose to listen.
The album is a sprawling, "off-the-grid" tapestry that echoes Martyn’s profound appreciation for jazz - free, instinctive, and bursting in every sonic direction. This collection features an expansive cast of collaborators, including Duval Timothy, Dan Only, Lucinda Chua, and Mark Cisneros. The record is further elevated by the contributions of jazz talents Mischa Porte and Cees Bruinsma, alongside the evocative words of writer and poet Musa Okwonga.
While the acoustic textures and improvisational spirit of this record may feel like a departure, they represent a homecoming. Jazz has always been ingrained in Martyn’s work; even in his most stripped-back club tracks, the DNA of swing, syncopation, and free-form structure was always present, if not always visible.
Music For Existing marks the beginning of an exciting journey that will continue from the studio to the stage, celebrating the radical act of existing in the moment.
Underoath reinvents the balance between chaos and harmony with each successive release. Their compositions, conjured from creative tension, become iconoclastic anthems. Even when the band almost combusts, the crackling energy coalesces into something deeply resonant for millions.
Each time they have a chance to do something safe, Underoath challenges themselves instead, with integrity and attitude. Their pair of gold albums and three Grammy nominations stand in stark defiance of the idea of commercial compromise. The Underoath catalog weaponizes noise, aggression, and ambiance as skillfully as melody.
This year the band celebrates 20 years of their album Define The Great Line. Coming on the heels of 2004’s They’re Only Chasing Safety, Define The Great Line saw Underoath pivoting towards a more aggressive sound. The record’s unconventional – and, at times, jarring – intensity served as a stark contrast to the pop-leaning trends that were taking over heavy music at the time.
Featuring fan favorites like “Writing On The Walls”, “In Regards To Myself”, and “You’re Ever So Inviting”, Define The Great Line defied expectations when it debuted at No. 2 on the Billboard 200. It is widely regarded as one of the definitive heavy records of the early 2000s, solidifying Underoath’s legacy as one most influential bands of the genre.
The heart of their sound, which delivers naked vulnerability with thrilling force and cinematic lushness, can be heard in generations of bands who’ve pursued their trailblazing spirit. But Underoath refuses to sit still. Walking an artistic tightrope between immersive access and isolationist otherness, Underoath owns the space between huge choruses and forward-thinking heaviness, both on record and onstage.
‘Unfindable Ring', out October 23 on Bayonet Records, is an adventurer’s epic. The arc of the journey, like any good Spirited Away or Neverending Story, lands its wide-traveled protagonist right back at home before bedtime. Grumpy, like many great hero tricksters before him, has always been a project of juxtaposition: upbeat radio-ready hits whose buoyant, goofy hooks belie the dark thoughts they describe. Much of this, Schmitt acknowledges, owes its due to the matter-of-fact morbidity of the trans experience in America. It’s from these experiences—personal, romantic, political, and existential—that the tale of ‘Unfindable Ring’ unfolds.
Ambition and play have always defined the Grumpy sound. Late last year, the Fader praised their “demented, hooky” EP, “Piebald,” whose innovative fuzz-pop confections earned them coverage in NPR and the New York Times. Stereogum heralded them as “wonderfully weird,” and Paste designated them “the best of what’s next.”” Through boisterous collaborations with the likes of Sidney Gish and Claire Rousay, they’ve effortlessly ingratiated themselves with the titans of DIY, and, more recently, Schmitt has become an unlikely favored collaborator of chart-topping country giant Zach Bryan, who named his new record––which prominently features Schmitt’s harmonies–– conspicuously, ‘With Heaven On Top.’
In Grumpy, Heaven Schmitt is joined by Anya Good, Ellie Long (Kid Lake), Austin Arnold, Diego Clare (D.A. Crimson), and Lane Rodgers, who each contribute to every step of the process—engineering and recording, mixing, drafting artwork, producing, and making music videos. A kind of interdisciplinary thieves’ guild, the project, while once Schmitt’s solo eponym, is a labor of communal love.
“We are living these happy lives, and there are people we come across who don’t know us at all who want us to die,” Schmitt, explains. Often the visibility of the joy itself is what prompts the vitriol––“I’m so happy I could die,” Schmitt belts over and over on the chorus (a familiar figure of speech, sure, but one which, upon any scrutiny, shows Schmitt’s hand in the macabre.) A middle finger to fate, Good started asking, “What are you going to do with your One Beautiful Life?” Grumpy is going to keep playing, touring, searching, finding.
Donato Basile AKA DJ Plant Texture always wants his music to tell a story, and with his debut EP on Tresor Records, entitled Life, he’s now trying to tell the biggest story there is. According to the artist, “Life is about the fear of growing up”; both the anxiety itself and acknowledging and moving past it.
This narrative seems to have struck a chord with those who have heard the track, “People want to reflect themselves in the music; something personal. Lots of people have been in touch after hearing it; I guess they feel something melancholic in it. Personally, I imagine the track is like the life of a person; going from being born through childhood and youth and onwards, so perhaps they hear this?”
Having used an MPC since the early 2000s, Basile feels an intuitive connection to the hardware he uses, and so the creative process is very spontaneous: “I know where everything is so the music is made immediately. I make everything in the first ten minutes; after that if it’s not right then I just abandon it and start something else.” This immediacy, and familiarity with his equipment is apparent on the A-side, where Basile’s previous life as a drummer comes to the fore and tracks like Cycles and Ripetivo display his native understanding of groove but also how to stir things up - the three A-side tracks find classic techno rhythms seemingly falling apart only to snap back into place even stronger. The B-side finds Donato exploring more of his melodic side with WTT and the aforementioned title track showing Plant Texture’s love of breakbeat and classic techno.
The three digital bonus tracks continue this exploration of melody and syncopated beats - The EXP Days echos the wistful feeling of Life, as Basile meditates on the times spent at EXP, his record shop in Bari, which functioned as a meeting place for electronic producers in the area.
Australian electronic icon What So Not redefined the boundaries of bass music in 2016 with the seminal Divide & Conquer EP—and now, this moment in dance music history finally gets the treatment it deserves. Celebrating 10 years, this vinyl pressing unleashes the EP’s signature mix of relentless bass and massive, soaring melodies like you’ve never heard them before.
Featuring the timeless sonic architecture of tracks like the explosive title track ‘Divide & Conquer’ and the unforgettable ‘Trust.’ Packed with iconic collaborations with Kimbra, George Maple, BURNS and GANZ, every track on this record holds up as a masterpiece. Drop the needle and re-experience the boundary-pushing energy that established What So Not as a global trailblazer.
After almost twenty years of releasing music, Sven Tasnadi finds himself circling back to some of the sounds that first drew him into house music. Explorer was written at home following a longer break from producing and after moving out of his studio, a change of setting that coincided with a shift in priorities. "The tracks on this EP came together at home after a longer break from music and after I moved out of my studio," he explains. "Musically they are very deep and minimal, at times almost meditative. They were inspired by a new chapter in my life as well as my never-ending love and connection to artists like Lawrence from Smallville and Frank & Tony from Scissor and Thread."
That sense of returning to something runs through the whole record. For much of Tasnadi's career, producing and DJing were closely connected, with many releases naturally shaped by the club. Things have changed. "DJing is no longer my main focus, so I can dedicate myself to these deep and minimal sounds again, free from pressure or expectations," he says. "In a way, after almost twenty years of releasing music, things have come full circle for me."
"Atlas (Chapter 1)" and "Atlas (Chapter 2)" grew from the same initial idea but followed separate paths during production. Chapter 2 came first, while Chapter 1 emerged later from a variation Tasnadi discovered while the track was still essentially a loop. "I was still looking for the right theme for the original idea when another version suddenly opened up," he recalls. He saved that variation for later so he could stay focused on the first version. When he returned to it, the two had developed distinct enough identities to stand independently. Their shared DNA is still audible in the restrained rhythms, slowly shifting details and the way small changes carry much of the movement.
The title track moves further into dub techno, another longstanding passion for Tasnadi. "Explorer is almost a classic dub techno track," he says. "Subtle movements within a constantly repeating pattern create a particular atmosphere. It feels like the track could just keep going forever." It is a patient approach to repetition that he connects to artists such as Moritz von Oswald and his friend Daniel Stefanik.
"Megasektor", one of the first tracks Tasnadi made at home with a new equipment setup, brings the EP into deep house territory. "To me it's almost classic deep house, or at least how I define deep house for myself." Warm, compact and gently propulsive, it provides a natural closing point for a record that is ultimately less about changing direction than reconnecting with an instinct that has always been there.
Explorer captures Tasnadi at a point where making music has become more personal again. The four tracks come from following ideas for their own sake and from rediscovering the deeper, more minimal sounds that have stayed with him throughout his career.
For their eagerly awaited third album, the Parisian trio Howlin' Jaws have teamed up with Swedish producer Kalle Gustafsson Jerneholm (bassist with The Soundtrack Of Our Lives and producer for Foals, The Hives, Jose Gonzalez and Junip) and have taken a major step forward, affirmingthe universal appeal of their explosive yet elegant psych-rock. This new album, Living The Dream, crystallises just about everything we'd ever dreamt of hearing from Howlin' Jaws. Here, more than ever, their dreams take the form of unifying choruses, transforming grief ("Troubled Mind") or separation ("Do What You Gonna Do", "So Sorry") into genuine bursts of hope. Rich in texture (with the Omnichord and Mellotron featuring on the spellbinding "Miss You" and the twilight-tinged "Up On The Roof" respectively) and in wit (led by the biting "Living The Dream"), the eleven-track album is equally diverse in its range of influences. Disco looms large on "Terminal Buzz", country creeps in on "Sunset Laundromat", whilst the fiery "Maximum Speed" is a joyful reminder of King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard's trippy flights of fancy. The trio are stunning when they're in full swing, but just as impressive when they slow the tempo down. Behind its layers of cosmic keyboards, "Time Has Come" immediately sets the scene and subtly invites introspection. Like an echo at the end of the journey, "That Kind of Pain" rubs shoulders with the stars of the French Touch (the Air school), letting the strings of the Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra burst forth amidst its melancholic swells. All in all, whether he simmers his albums like an omelette or a beef bourguignon, Howlin' Jaws proves he's never short of imagination.
For their eagerly awaited third album, the Parisian trio Howlin' Jaws have teamed up with Swedish producer Kalle Gustafsson Jerneholm (bassist with The Soundtrack Of Our Lives and producer for Foals, The Hives, Jose Gonzalez and Junip) and have taken a major step forward, affirmingthe universal appeal of their explosive yet elegant psych-rock. This new album, Living The Dream, crystallises just about everything we'd ever dreamt of hearing from Howlin' Jaws. Here, more than ever, their dreams take the form of unifying choruses, transforming grief ("Troubled Mind") or separation ("Do What You Gonna Do", "So Sorry") into genuine bursts of hope. Rich in texture (with the Omnichord and Mellotron featuring on the spellbinding "Miss You" and the twilight-tinged "Up On The Roof" respectively) and in wit (led by the biting "Living The Dream"), the eleven-track album is equally diverse in its range of influences. Disco looms large on "Terminal Buzz", country creeps in on "Sunset Laundromat", whilst the fiery "Maximum Speed" is a joyful reminder of King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard's trippy flights of fancy. The trio are stunning when they're in full swing, but just as impressive when they slow the tempo down. Behind its layers of cosmic keyboards, "Time Has Come" immediately sets the scene and subtly invites introspection. Like an echo at the end of the journey, "That Kind of Pain" rubs shoulders with the stars of the French Touch (the Air school), letting the strings of the Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra burst forth amidst its melancholic swells. All in all, whether he simmers his albums like an omelette or a beef bourguignon, Howlin' Jaws proves he's never short of imagination.
Golden Seconds has arrived — a brand-new Disco label brought to you by Johannes Albert. In the 1990s, Disco House records became dancefloor anthems, drawing on the nostalgia of disco's golden era while incorporating modern production techniques like sampling. Pioneered by influential producers like JohNick or DJ Sneak, Disco House revitalized the uplifting spirit of Disco while infusing it with the infectious rhythms of House Music. A young Johannes became addicted to this happy music in a heartbeat. Fast forward two decades, and he’s crafted his own updated take on the genre, guided by one simple philosophy:
"Sometimes all it takes to make a room go bang is a beat and a sample."
Golden Seconds Vol. II opens the vaults again and delivers a selection of tracks straight from the stash — timeless grooves, dancefloor heat, and that unmistakable disco glow.
Sexy cover included.
IRST ALBUM IN 10 YEARS.
TOURING WITH TROPICAL FUCK STORM IN NOVEMBER (DATES BELOW).
PRODUCED BY DAN LUSCOMBE (THE DRONES) WHO IS ALSO PART OF THE LIVE BAND.
PREVIOUS ALBUMS ON HARDLY ART/SUB POP AND REMOTE CONTROL.
VERY LIMITED BLACK VINYL AND INDIES ONLY PINK VINYL . NON-RETURNABLE.
‘Jarrod Quarrell, creator of Lost Animal, is one of the most underrated songwriters in Australia and one of our all-time favourites. He creates poetic expressions. His work is very interesting in a highly original way and richly emotional. The songs reveal themselves more over many listens and always feel fresh. His powerful, beautiful, transformative, and unforgettable songs possess the vast depth of the human spirit.’ - GIMMIE GIMMIE GIMMIE ZINE
‘Quarrell has developed a collaged techne that embodies a heart-on-sleeve attitude. Lush melodic delays wash with an influx of lyrics that pierce with uncanny imagery and diction.’ - VICE
It’s not every day you hear about a new Lost Animal album. In fact, it’s been ten years between drinks. The debut Ex Tropical (Hardly Art/Sub Pop) was released in 2011, and followed by You Yang (Remote Control) in 2016. So what happened, and where’s frontman/mastermind Jarrod Quarrell been for the last ten years?
From the horse's mouth, “I don't give a fuck about productivity”. A humbling reply. It confirms Quarrell's MO: here’s an artist as a non-conformist. And when he does see fit to bless us with his unique vision of what music can sound like, it has the ability to completely charm and disarm. Amongst a sea of rock bands, LA is essentially a solo act. Simply put; LA is JQ. But on the other hand, amongst an ocean of solo acts, LA possesses the grandiosity of a full band, punk in spirit, but without being fast, or heavy.
Armed with keys and synths, timbres align more with what a toucan might listen to, as opposed to what's heard commonly throughout Melbourne's gig economy. Strings are gently plucked and horns are tenderly blown. These are the colourful brush strokes that decorate the upper frequencies. They’re the ticket to a far away land;exotic, and potentially very dangerous. If the crew from Hear My Eyes are reading this, consider Lost Animal performing Give Some Get Some as the soundtrack to the next time you screen The Hangover Part 2. Yeah, the one where shit gets super fried in Thailand.
The album examines the underbelly of what a ten year journey might rub up against. As one may expect, a lot of that action is below the belt. Tracks like Do That Thing, and In
Rewinding, a few things have happened in the past ten years that are worth illuminating. Shags is no longer commandeering the bass full time. Though he does make an appearance on a couple tracks. The main difference from present day to yesteryear LA is Dan Luscombe (The Drones). Luscombe has jumped into the role of producer (and also part of the live band). One could say he’s a producer of the Spector-ilk: playing a hands-on approach and assisting Quarrell's song crafting. He may have suggested to add a chorus or two, but the chord progressions remain distinctly Lost Animal. You'll recognise them easily by their beauty, combined with either fragility or rigidity. Luscombe is arguably the defining force that made this album happen. Perhaps he had Quarrell at gunpoint. Yet to be confirmed. Regardless, thank fuck for Luscombe because it may have been another decade.
But the album's defining feature is arguably Quarrell's lyricism. He may not cross-examine where he's been, but his voice does unmask where he is: absolved and reincarnated. The decade-long journey has resulted in him looking inwards and unlocking himself. The album's many mantras suggest that he may be a bird (I'm a Bird Now), or that he is living on another planet (Never is Forever). Whatever and wherever he may be,
Give Some Get Some invites the listener to reflect on their own journey over the past decade. Because the game's got a price. So ask yourself what have you taken, and what have you given? Life ain't a box of chocolates. It's a bowl of berries. And when fruit symbolizes temptation, get some.
IRST ALBUM IN 10 YEARS.
TOURING WITH TROPICAL FUCK STORM IN NOVEMBER (DATES BELOW).
PRODUCED BY DAN LUSCOMBE (THE DRONES) WHO IS ALSO PART OF THE LIVE BAND.
PREVIOUS ALBUMS ON HARDLY ART/SUB POP AND REMOTE CONTROL.
VERY LIMITED BLACK VINYL AND INDIES ONLY PINK VINYL . NON-RETURNABLE.
‘Jarrod Quarrell, creator of Lost Animal, is one of the most underrated songwriters in Australia and one of our all-time favourites. He creates poetic expressions. His work is very interesting in a highly original way and richly emotional. The songs reveal themselves more over many listens and always feel fresh. His powerful, beautiful, transformative, and unforgettable songs possess the vast depth of the human spirit.’ - GIMMIE GIMMIE GIMMIE ZINE
‘Quarrell has developed a collaged techne that embodies a heart-on-sleeve attitude. Lush melodic delays wash with an influx of lyrics that pierce with uncanny imagery and diction.’ - VICE
It’s not every day you hear about a new Lost Animal album. In fact, it’s been ten years between drinks. The debut Ex Tropical (Hardly Art/Sub Pop) was released in 2011, and followed by You Yang (Remote Control) in 2016. So what happened, and where’s frontman/mastermind Jarrod Quarrell been for the last ten years?
From the horse's mouth, “I don't give a fuck about productivity”. A humbling reply. It confirms Quarrell's MO: here’s an artist as a non-conformist. And when he does see fit to bless us with his unique vision of what music can sound like, it has the ability to completely charm and disarm. Amongst a sea of rock bands, LA is essentially a solo act. Simply put; LA is JQ. But on the other hand, amongst an ocean of solo acts, LA possesses the grandiosity of a full band, punk in spirit, but without being fast, or heavy.
Armed with keys and synths, timbres align more with what a toucan might listen to, as opposed to what's heard commonly throughout Melbourne's gig economy. Strings are gently plucked and horns are tenderly blown. These are the colourful brush strokes that decorate the upper frequencies. They’re the ticket to a far away land;exotic, and potentially very dangerous. If the crew from Hear My Eyes are reading this, consider Lost Animal performing Give Some Get Some as the soundtrack to the next time you screen The Hangover Part 2. Yeah, the one where shit gets super fried in Thailand.
The album examines the underbelly of what a ten year journey might rub up against. As one may expect, a lot of that action is below the belt. Tracks like Do That Thing, and In
Rewinding, a few things have happened in the past ten years that are worth illuminating. Shags is no longer commandeering the bass full time. Though he does make an appearance on a couple tracks. The main difference from present day to yesteryear LA is Dan Luscombe (The Drones). Luscombe has jumped into the role of producer (and also part of the live band). One could say he’s a producer of the Spector-ilk: playing a hands-on approach and assisting Quarrell's song crafting. He may have suggested to add a chorus or two, but the chord progressions remain distinctly Lost Animal. You'll recognise them easily by their beauty, combined with either fragility or rigidity. Luscombe is arguably the defining force that made this album happen. Perhaps he had Quarrell at gunpoint. Yet to be confirmed. Regardless, thank fuck for Luscombe because it may have been another decade.
But the album's defining feature is arguably Quarrell's lyricism. He may not cross-examine where he's been, but his voice does unmask where he is: absolved and reincarnated. The decade-long journey has resulted in him looking inwards and unlocking himself. The album's many mantras suggest that he may be a bird (I'm a Bird Now), or that he is living on another planet (Never is Forever). Whatever and wherever he may be,
Give Some Get Some invites the listener to reflect on their own journey over the past decade. Because the game's got a price. So ask yourself what have you taken, and what have you given? Life ain't a box of chocolates. It's a bowl of berries. And when fruit symbolizes temptation, get some.
Elastica’s iconic self-titled debut album is set to be reissued by Rough Trade Records on 2 October in a new edition boasting rarities and b-sides.
Striking their own, distinct path in March 1995, Elastica proved uniquely fresh-sounding as the London four-piece delivered on the reputation they had built up gigging around the capital beyond in the months ahead its release.
Home to the likes of Line Up, Waking Up and Connection, singles at once timeless yet in the moment, Elastica’s debut captured the fraying emotions, hazy experience and burning energy of life, love and after-hours adventure.
Absorbing atmospheres and attitudes of their post-punk and new wave forbears, Justine Frischmann (vocals, guitar), Annie Holland (bass), Donna Matthews (guitar, vocals) and Justin Welch (drums) poured their own identities into the album’s 15 tracks which balancing youthful swagger, with sage-like observation and a knowing cool that made Elastica and their debut effortlessly timeless.
JUDDER announces the second installment of its vinyl series, bringing together a diverse selection of artists united by their passion for experimental bass music. This time, the record is fully focused on a raw, soundsystem-driven aesthetic. On Side A, French producer Amor Satyr—known for effortlessly navigating between dembow, breakbeat, and techno—ventures into dubstep territory for the first time. On 'Over', he translates his signature style onto the genre’s foundations while retaining the distinctive energy that defines his sound. The record continues with a collaborative effort from Thematic and Nattah. ‘Aurora Pulse' is a cold, restrained piece of leftfield bass at 130 BPM, where a sharp, syncopated subline forms the backbone of the groove, pulsing like the heartbeat of a northern metropolis. Opening Side B, Dawn RAzor and Mani Festo deliver 'Awared', a track where techno and breakbeat converge through layered sound design and spring-loaded drum fills. As it unfolds, the composition gradually draws the listener into a hypnotic journey, dissolving familiar genre boundaries along the way. The release closes with ‘Lockjaw'—a true soundsystem slow-burner from Kahter and Mercy System. Broken tribal rhythms and a constantly evolving arrangement keep the listener suspended in a state of mounting tension, one that intensifies with every new detail introduced. Tracklist: A1 Amor Satyr — Over A2 Thematic & Nattah — Aurora Pulse B1 Dawn RAzor & Mani Festo — Awared B2 Kahter & Mercy System — Lockjaw
Phenomena begins with two artistic voices that seem to speak different languages. Barcelona-based producer R-010 (Lucas Rojo) approaches composition through rhythm, space and electronic transformation; Madrid-born vocalist and multidisciplinary artist Venerandi through texture, breath and the expressive possibilities of the human voice. By the time the album reaches its final moments, that distinction has quietly disappeared.
Rather than functioning as a meeting point between two individual practices, Phenomena gradually
becomes a third language—one that belongs to neither artist alone. Voice no longer sits above the music
but moves inside it, dissolving into layers of synthesis, percussion and guitar until performance itself
becomes another malleable sound source. Likewise, electronic production never behaves as a fixed
environment; it constantly adapts, absorbs and responds, allowing acoustic gestures and digital
manipulation to reshape one another in real time.
This continuous transformation defines the record more than any particular genre ever could. Echoes of trip hop, bass music, psychedelia and experimental electronics drift across its surface, yet they are never
presented as stylistic markers. Instead, they appear as temporary states within an ecosystem that remains
in constant motion, where dense rhythmic passages collapse into suspended atmospheres and moments
of stillness carry as much weight as those driven by pulse.
The presence of Matteo Caro (guitar and percussion), Pablo Gorostiaga (guitar) and Alessio Rodolico
(percussion) further expands this dialogue. Their contributions are not decorative additions but structural
ones, gradually dissolving the distinction between composition, improvisation and production. Instruments
emerge, mutate and disappear inside the same sonic fabric, making it increasingly difficult to distinguish
what was performed from what was transformed.
With Phenomena, Lapsus Records presents a work that feels less interested in crossing genres than in
questioning the borders between artistic identities themselves. The album never asks the listener to decide
where the human ends and the machine begins. Instead, it quietly suggests that, after enough careful
listening, the question itself may no longer matter.
