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This self-titled LP marks the fifth release of Scottish artist Murray Collier’s Dip Friso project, his longest running alias and the solitary vanguard of his own Real Landscape imprint. Across the six tracks he delivers another collection of warped percussive loops, heavily manipulated guitar work and psychedelic sound experiments that drift between popular music forms ('I’ll Get to Hiding') and whittled down takes on electric blues and shoegaze ('Another Country’). The former features the instantly recognisable croon of Still House Plants vocalist Jess HK embellishing a backdrop of tape loop alchemy, an inspired pairing given the shared history of Glasgow dwelling. ‘Thin Ayrshire’ (written with Hannan Jones) treads a similar path with Collier’s own beyond-unrecognisable voice featuring, broken suddenly by a brief flash of 12th Isle’s Loris S. Sarid & Innis Chonnel’s ‘Spalted Water Portal’ thanks to a recycled tape spool. ‘A Sorry Business’ takes on avant-jazz inspired puddle skronk, a stunted casio bleep propelling forward guitar dirge and cymbal crashes, whilst Australian minimal wave heroes The Systematics are paid homage via a farewell cover of their track ‘Midnight on Balancing Day’ (here ‘Midnight’).

All in, the album sees the project incorporating more instrumentation and a full use of vocalists, leaning less heavily on gauzy sample collage styles and providing a more introspective look at the hazy, dubwise world Collier has been building for the past half a decade.

On How It Ends (?), slinky melodies snake through nocturnal atmospherics, drawing you into a world built on poetic, painterly lyricism. Night Crickets, a long-distance groove affair that materialized during the drawn-out days of lockdown, has emerged once again to soundtrack our waking dreams.

David J (Bauhaus, Love & Rockets), Victor DeLorenzo (Violent Femmes) and multi-instrumentalist Darwin Meiners spearhead a loose collective of like-minded creative souls whom, through sheer tenacity and a burning desire to collaborate and create, transcend the restrictions of space and time. Audio files shared from Los Angeles to Milwaukee, from London to the San Francisco Bay, and the ghosts of Candlestick Park shimmer through the fog, coalescing in a glorious ‘gesamtkunstwerk’ that draws from the past, the present and the imagined future.

Declaring Bauhaus, Love And Rockets, and Violent Femmes iconic, foundational bands in the history of alternative music would receive little pushback from those in the know. San Francisco born artist Darwin Meiners is a fan of all three. A chance meeting with David J grew into a friendship, and Darwin not only became a bandmate, but his manager. After reaching out to Victor DeLorenzo through e-mail, Darwin met the Violent Femmes drummer after their set at Coachella. Soon, after the three collaborated on Darwin’s 2014 release Souvenir.

As the pandemic took hold, Darwin was looking for a new project to occupy the lock down time and approached Victor, who was keen to proceed and suggested that David join as well. The musical trust established between these three was immediate and Night Crickets were born. Within weeks a global process was initiated between them, the recordings eventually forming the album, A Free Society.

Following that release, inspired by how well – and quickly – they all worked together, the trio kept up their collaboration. “We are each free to discover musical connections that could only exist in an ideal creative setting” explains Victor. “We are very lucky to have three musicians who write, sing and play various instruments in one trio… our egos seem to melt into one when we face musical decisions, so our expeditions are always filled with pure discovery, humor and drive!”

How It Ends (?) was crafted with the same collaborative spirit as A Free Society. Each member contributed contributed unique elements to spur their collective creativity—whether a drum pattern, a lyrical concept, or a musical idea—and together, they expanded these initial sparks into the finished work. True to their approach, much of what you hear was captured in the first take, reflecting a genuine, unfiltered moment.

The music on the How It Ends (?) is a true evolution of the debut album. It is deeper and darker. Having said that, the dark tone is alleviated by a healthy measure of the buoyant, bouncy and melodic. “Much of the new material is very psychedelic and the contrast between this heavy, dark psychedelia and the more uplifting pop elements puts me in mind of The Beatles’ ‘Revolver’ album to some degree,” tells David J. “The recording process for the new album was exactly the same as the first in that we all recorded remotely, taking turns to share files and reacting spontaneously to the previous track, overdubbing then passing on once again until we all felt that the track was done.”

“While we didn’t start with a specific theme, the album emerged as a contemplative exploration of endings” says Darwin. “It touches on the loss of individuals, the shifting of ideas, and the fragility of systems. Beneath this sense of darkness and finality, however, there are threads of beauty and glimpses of hope. We invite you to immerse yourself in the album and experience the journey we’ve embarked upon.”

Just under a year after their acclaimed self-titled debut, dreampop duo deary release a brand new six-track EP – Aurelia – via Sonic Cathedral on November 1. It includes the singles ‘The Moth’, ‘Selene’ and ‘The Drift’ and features Slowdive drummer Simon Scott playing on three songs. It will be available on three different vinyl variants, a CD with three bonus tracks and digitally. It’s a stunning record, which displays a new-found maturity in terms of production as well as musically and lyrically. The band – singer Rebecca ‘Dottie’ Cockram and guitarist/producer Ben Easton – have had to grow up in public since the release of their debut single at the start of 2023, supporting legends such as Slowdive and Cranes and TikTok sensations like Wisp along the way. An aurelian is a rare old term for a lepidopterist – someone who studies and collects moths – derived from the Latin aurelia, meaning chrysalis. The perfect title for an EP which is based around the theme of metamorphosis and change. “It leans on the natural world, the human body, the earth and sky as well as human emotion,” says Ben of how the EP represents physical and metaphysical growth. “Change can be daunting but equally exciting, which is something we’ve come to learn.” “While writing the EP, I found a letter I had written to myself when I was 22,” adds Dottie. “I was fresh out of university and had moved back in with my parents as Covid was in full force. I was uninspired and lost and reaching out to my future self for some hope. It was a physical representation of what can happen in a few years; how much can change and how you never know what’s coming next. “I found it interesting that – at the age of 26 – here I was looking back to my younger self for hope or just some comfort in the fact that things will and do move on. It was important to me to bring both of these versions of myself into the new songs.” “Personally, I had noticed a change in myself; a new level of social anxiety, a strange disassociation to things that once brought me joy as well as negative repetitions in my daily life,” reveals Ben. “I began the year sober which allowed me to finish the writing process as a letter of care to my own mental health. There are motifs throughout the EP – for example the riffs in ‘The Moth’ and ‘The Drift’ being reminiscent of each other – which are like musical reflections of these repeated cycles.” It’s musically where the change deary have undergone is most obvious. ‘The Moth’ mixes howling guitars atop a strident breakbeat making it more Curve than Cocteaus; ‘Selene’ is a slow-building wall of noise; ‘The Drift’ combines a perfect pop melody with an incredible sense of urgency. These three singles are balanced by the brief but beautiful ‘Where You Are’ which leads into the Portishead-style trip-hop of ‘Dream Of Me’. The title track has been a staple of their live sets for about a year as ‘Can’t Sleep Tonight’, but its mix of The Cure circa Disintegration and Mezzanine Massive Attack has grown and evolved so much that they renamed it ‘Aurelia’ as the embodiment of the change they have been through. “We’ve allowed deary to naturally grow over the past year, we didn’t want to force it to take a certain shape or sound,” explains Dottie of the duo’s slow and steady approach. “A lot of the last EP was written by sending ideas back and forth over WhatsApp, but this time we were able to sit in the same room and I think that really shows. We know each other a lot better now as we have experienced this journey together and that benefits the writing process as we are more open with each other and can be vulnerable.” “Aurelia definitely feels a lot more collaborative, more personal and more fully realised than the first EP,” concludes Ben. “It feels like a real document of what has been a very important time in both of our lives. Ironically, the band has changed and matured even more since the recording, so we’re both excited to document the next stage

Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld are back with their third album, nearly eight years after "Nerissimo", but time collapses and expands like an accordion. Especially those two stolen years that have disappeared from our accounts without a trace during the pandemic. The new album is titled "Christian & Mauro" and their real names on the header hint to a more personal landscape who allows them to go through elements of the past like "Bisogna Morire", an incredible passacaglia, a dance of death from 1600 that"s been reinvented from a contemporary perspective. Since their musical roots belongs also to the future, another consideration comes after a book by astrophysicist Carlo Rovelli, it opens up for a different look at the universe. It"s not always possible to discover new territories without consenting to lose sight of the shore for quite a good amount of time, so across these new ten songs Teho and Blixa allow themselves various detours playing a large array of instruments, using a mythological keyboard who can play with ciphers, letters, characters, sounds and noises. Using sounds transversely provides the cue to new possibilities to move forward in music. The album has been produced by Teho Teardo, Blixa Bargeld and Boris Wilsdorf both in Roma at Basement Recordings and at andereBaustelle in Berlin. This music joins again the sky between Roma and Berlin and the tour that will follow its release will take place from November 19th right in Roma and will take them all over Europe. Teho and Blixa will tour with Laura Bisceglia on cello and Gabriele Coen on bass clarinet, there will be on stage also a string quartet on each show.

Opaque Mango Colored Vinyl. RIYL: Black Milk, Kendrick Lamar, Kamasi Washington, Mos Def, Blood Orange, Milo, Pharcyde, Blackalicious, Anderson Paak. Richmond, Virginia-based artist McKinley Dixon has always used his music as a tool for healing, exploring, and unpacking the Black experience in order to create stories for others like him. For My Mama And Anyone Who Look Like Her, Dixon's debut album on Spacebomb, is the culmination of a journey where heartbreak and introspection challenged him to adapt new ways of communicating physically and mentally, as well as across time and space. The language accessibility aspect of this project draws right back to communication and connecting," Dixon explains. "I think about the messaging, and how this can be a way for another Black person, someone who looks like me, to listen to this and process the past. Everything I've learned about communication for this album culminates with this bigger question about time. Is time linear when you're still healing and processing? Westerners look at time travel as something to conquer or control - it's a colonizer mindset. That's ignoring how time travel can be done through stories and non-verbal communication, and doesn't acknowledge how close indigenous people are to the land and the connections groups have because they've existed somewhere for so long. Storytelling is time travel, it's taking the listener to that place. Quick time travel. Magic." Never relying solely on beats, Dixon taps into a hybrid of jazz and rap, pulling in an array of piercing strings, soulful horns, percussion, and angelic vocalists throughout the album-plus features by Micah James, Lord Jah-Monte Ogbon, Pink Siifu, and more. Jazz instrumentals add a level of uncertainty, with the sounds and shifts evoking a lot of emotion and vulnerability. It's an energy he describes as "Pre-Kendrick Lamar To Pimp A Butterfly," the era when rap adopted more live instrumentation. The best way to sum up this album is: I was sad, I was mad, and now I'm alive," Dixon explains. "These things I talk about on the record have had harmful and brilliant effects on my timeline, and have forced me to be cognizant of the fact that living is complex. Rap has allowed me the language to communicate, and be someone who can communicate with people from all over. Knowing how far I've come, I think people will find trust in the message I'm sending."

Ricky Razu is one of Belgium's new breeds of rising house producers who come from a vast background of jazz, boogie, hip-hop and disco and through the amalgamation of these various styles, he is quickly making a name for himself.

Ricky's swing is quite unique, he has been putting his own twist and interpretation on the regular house track by joining the dots between yesterday’s golden era classics and today’s club bangers. As one of Houseum's mainstays, he has also built up a solid presence behind the decks, becoming a regular player in the Belgian and international house scene. During the past years, Ricky’s prolific output has also allowed his sounds to propagate all over the globe, which culminated in a worldwide repertoire of gigs from Europe to the US, South America and Asia. The man has also garnered support from the likes of Jeremy Underground, Bellaire and Subjoi, to name a few, and with his new projects in the pipeline, the future is looking bright for him.

Get transported to a parallel dimension with the title track of Ricky Razu’s new EP ‘Cosmic Waves’. This spacey yet club-oriented track blends floaty arpeggios with a dark rumbling bass. But what truly sets "Cosmic Waves" apart is its sharp and distinct lead melody, guaranteed to linger in your head long after the first listen. In Ricky’s known style, the arrangement sounds complete yet never over-loaded, resulting in a track that is effective and easy to love.

Fables of the future fuel the present. Lisel (Eliza Bagg) draws from this tradition on The Vanishing Point, a daring musical odyssey of altered singing, experimental pop, broken melodies, and striking electronics. A culmination of her continual dissemblance of genre, Lisel’s new album is an epic composed of allegorical tales, forming a dystopian storybook of life in the shadow of impending catastrophe. It’s a high-concept work of contemporary pop sounds, hyperpop motifs and tropes. Every song reflects the shared psycho-emotional experience of moving towards unsettling futures and looking beyond these outcomes, to the point where the horizons vanish. Evolving the sonic toolkit she employed on Patterns For Autotuned Voices And Delay (2023), Lisel transforms pop into a canvas for operatic storytelling. Along with making her own work, Bagg is a classical singer working in baroque and contemporary experimental opera, and with her project Lisel, she seeks to develop new, expressive qualities out of ancient vocal techniques from the Baroque and Renaissance periods. Her opera experience has infused her with a desire for a big, cinematic sound and holistic world-building, creating a “total artwork,” and she fits that medium into the form of a solo project. From haunting whispers to soaring melodies, she reaches back towards ancient musical traditions while incorporating futuristic sounds in order to imagine how a possible future might look back at contemporary existence. Dystopic stories melt into pop songs, hammered to ruin. Both through sonics and lyrics, the album recounts urgent narratives as ancient mythological fables, chronicling in operatic density the deepening awareness of the world’s looming, inevitable vanishing point. Photographer Carla Rossi further builds Lisel’s world through a series of photographs that similarly draw on Renaissance and Medieval painting, while placing them aesthetically in a digital realm. In these dramatic, hyper-stylized photos, Lisel takes up classical poses and yields iconographic symbols, further exploring the dissonance in her work as these manufactured “paintings” recall storytelling of the past while depicting images from an imagined future.

***BACK IN STOCK ON ORANGE CREAM VINYL!!!

On Fire is widely recognized as the canonic pinnacle of Galaxie 500's career. The artwork conveys this, with a low-angle shot of the band, looking up towards an amber sky. This record marked the realization of their signature sound. Nowhere is it clearer than on the album opener, "Blue Thunder," the closest a song can come to waves crashing on a beach in song form. Lyrically inconsequential, with a chorus composed entirely of "la"s, the track's power lies in a systematic build and break of intensity that reaches a Spector-like climax. It is the quintessential Galaxie 500 song, encapsulating all that was great about the band. With the Boston trio once again utilizing the bizarre genius of producer Mark Kramer, On Fire sounds like anything but. The guitars are warm blankets enwrapping Dean Wareham's vocals, percolated by the open percussion of Damon Krukowski and anchored by the emotion-laden bass of Naomi Yang. Songs like "Snowstorm," "Strange," and "Decomposing Trees" have an endless quality, without beginnings or ends, but rather frozen somewhere on a spectrum of melancholy. For the first time since its original pressing, On Fire is available again on vinyl. Cut by vinyl ace Kevin Gray from a remaster by Kramer and Alan Douches, the album sounds more vibrant than ever, and Galaxie 500 exists again as one of the most enrapturing and glorious bands to emerge from the underground in the past 25 years.

Caroline Says' haunting new album, The Lucky One, is a poignant exploration of how the ghosts of past relationships linger, sometimes holding more sway over our hearts and minds than our current connections. We revisit these ghosts through evocative landscapes of our memories - hometown bars, road trips, and late-night swims. Through a series of fractured and persistent memories these songs capture the bittersweet realization that the past, though imperfect, can sometimes be a more comforting and meaningful companion than the present. Opening track, "The Lucky One," confronts death's role in shaping our memories head-on, as it ponders the way death freezes a person in time, forcing us to confront the complexities of grief and its lasting impact on our relationship with the one we lost. Other tracks delve into the complexities of relationships that naturally grow apart as life takes us in different directions. For example, "Faded and Golden" reflects on the bittersweet nature of reunions with old friends, where the idealized memories of youth can clash with the realities of the present. Then, "Actors" takes this a step further, acknowledging the influence of perception and desire in friendships, and the idea that in many ways "all friendships are imaginary friendships," as it confronts the disappointment of inauthentic connections, and the facades we sometimes put on in relationships. "Roses" began when Caroline was looking through her grandma's collection of commemorative Kentucky Derby glasses, each one etched with the name of a winner. The song delves into the story of "Sunday Silence," the horse that won the year Caroline was born. Researching the horse's journey from near-Triple Crown glory to retirement in Japan sparked a metaphor - a pressured being (the horse) desperately trying to please but ultimately disappointing. The owners eventually selling the horse becomes a relatable symbol of unmet expectations, and the sting of falling short despite our best efforts. Album closer, "Something Good," revisits Caroline's Alabama childhood. Lost on a recent trip to Birmingham, unable to find the familiar path to a riverside hangout, the experience becomes a powerful metaphor; we can't always retrace the paths in our memories, but those memories, however unreliable, continue to shape us. In the end, The Lucky One celebrates this enduring power, acknowledging how past relationships and experiences, even those lost to the haze of time, continue to inform the stories we tell ourselves, and the way we navigate the present.

Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water, the self-titled debut from the duo of trumpeter Will Evans and guitarist, synthesist, producer and multi-instrumentalist Theo Trump, arrives like a vault revelation. It feels like a decades-old yet newly unearthed masterwork of gorgeous ambient improvisation, the sort of thing scholars live to research and shepherd into deluxe reissue.

The patient, crystalline chords that swell and resonate like a series of confessions; the textured brass murmurs that suggest a ’60s or ’70s Fire Music master at their most poignant. Provocative found-sound experiments threading arcane religious recordings through dystopian soundscapes. Ear-shattering free-noise tumult. Where and when did this music come from? Who are these voices?

As it turns out, Forgetting You Is Like Breathing Water springs from an engrossing human story, though it isn’t necessarily the one you’d expect. This work of stunning maturity is in fact an entrance by two little-known explorers in their early 20s, who grew up together in Virginia, in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It documents one of those perfect, sparkling moments in post-adolescence when big decisions and responsibilities are right around the corner, but for a spell, two young artists are able to create among the comforts and nostalgia of their shared past.

It also represents a reunion of sorts, as Evans and Trump connected as toddlers, became inseparable as boys, then pursued independent lives and creative paths as young adults. “Theo is my oldest friend,” Evans says, “and I feel like that’s what this band is — us meeting right in the middle of our interests.”

Now, having conjured this magic, they’ve detached once again: Evans, whose other works include the indie/avant-jazz unit Angelica X, is currently based in New York City. Trump recently moved to England, where he’d participated in his family’s theatre company, to go to school and further his solo ambient project. “This album didn’t start out as something super ambitious,” Evans explains. “It was more just an excuse to spend time together again and make music.”

***

In conversation, Evans and Trump are a delight, especially for cynics who might think that Gen-Z is only capable of doomscrolling. They come across as kindly young intellectuals who grew up using the internet as it was intended, for exposure to ideas and art across genres and generations. Trump points to indie-folk and the oracular post-rock of late Talk Talk, Bark Psychosis and Gastr del Sol. Pressed for his guitar heroes, he cites Bill Orcutt, Mary Halvorson and Marc Ribot, and mentions his devotion to alt-country. Heyday electro-industrial stuff like Skinny Puppy and Nine Inch Nails also meant a lot to him.

Evans is equally intrepid, though his background has a greater jazz focus. Ambrose Akinmusire, among today’s most thoughtfully commanding trumpeters, is a favorite. As for the soulful murmur he offers throughout Forgetting You, Pharoah Sanders’ wistful and lyrical contributions to Floating Points’ work is a touchstone.

The two grew up down the street from each other in the northern Piedmont town of Batesville, Virginia. Their families were friends, holidays were celebrated together and they became the most loyal of pals. As children they had a pretend band.

Then life unfolded, they attended different schools and their paths diverged. Evans discovered John Coltrane and became a jazz obsessive, as Trump found punk and hardcore and later began making ambient music. As a dedicated jazz trumpeter, Evans studied formally and widely; Trump was an autodidact, teaching himself guitar and absorbing synthesis and production techniques. The late teens and very early 20s brought moves away from home and back to home, as well as plenty of listening and learning. The Covid pandemic meant an opportunity to reconnect on long walks. Through it all, together and apart, they remained reverent of each other.

By early 2023, they found themselves living again among the Blue Ridge Mountains. In the evening, after giving trumpet lessons in Charlottesville, Evans would make the eerily beautiful trek “over the mountain” to Trump’s home in Staunton, Virginia. They’d talk and eat and begin to improvise, deep into the night. Evans played trumpet and sometimes drums. (Given the wee-hours recording schedule, the neighbors didn’t appreciate the latter.) Trump plugged a rickety, junk-store Telecaster-style guitar into a cheap solid-state amp and explored open tunings; he also layered on lap steel, electric bass, synths and electronics.

They locked in and relished each other’s gifts. In Trump, those include patience and intentionality and sonic decision-making; for Evans, a distinctive trumpet sound that both musicians think of as a singer’s voice. “Will’s playing is so thoughtful and well placed,” Trump says. “My goal from a producer’s mindset is that the trumpet will occupy the space that vocals would take.”

Often, they got lost in the best way. “The thing I look for most when I’m playing is that feeling of disappearing into what you’re doing,” Evans says. “Usually when that happens, the music is good.”

By the same token, they didn’t pursue free improvisation as an ethic, or as a pure process. Their goal was something closer to spontaneous composition. “We were trying to make good songs,” Evans says simply. Later, Trump did brilliant post-production work, expanding a modest setup into an enthralling soundworld. Under his judicious editorship, music that was wholly improvised sounds at times like a carefully composed new-music commission.

The results speak for themselves. “A Happy Death” summons up a swath of American desolation through the viewfinder of Wim Wenders. “Flesh of Lost Summers” and “Partings” are highlights from an essential ECM LP that never was. “A Collapse of Horses” infuses those seminal post-rock influences with the plod of doom metal or slowcore. The album’s final track, “The Mountains Are a Dream That Calls to Me,” was in fact the first thing the duo recorded, as an evocation of those twilit drives across the Blue Ridge Mountains. “Looking back at what we chose to name the songs,” Evans says, “and some of the sounds and how they make me feel, there is an air of impermanence and loss to this album.”

“I’m excited for everything that’s to come,” he adds, “but I recently thought, ‘Damn — that’s not going to happen again.’ It was a privilege for us to have that time together.”

Atlanta native Stefan Ringer steps up for a solo release on Bristol’s Black Acre, tracing a lineage of sonic references into an unmissable four-track EP. From radiant, soulful house to wonky machine funk, Soulflow is a distillation of cultural and personal narratives, tracing the evolution of his sound over a number of years. As an influential force in Atlanta’s dance music community - and with a strong connection to the sounds of Detroit - Stefan’s music reflects a genuine love for the underground. He held a residency at the legendary Sound Table with Ash Lauryn until its closure, runs the beloved monthly party Kudzu, and has spent years committed to his craft as a producer, DJ, promoter, and label manager. Tying the threads between an ever-expanding pool of sounds, his approach to production looks beyond the restraints of formal genre, and instead towards community, offering new sonic frameworks for others to soundtrack their own personal journeys. Black Acre has, since its inception in 2007, focused on strains of electronic music that mutate across different styles, and as such, Soulflow touches on a number of subcultural moments. As the name suggests, the title track is an uplifting, 101 groove of stripped back soul, driven by Stefan’s vocal treatments. ‘What’s Your Sign’ heads into hazier territory for an angular cut of minimal hypnotism. Taking a trip further into Stefan’s musical heritage with a nod to mid-2000s dubstep, ‘Cleanse’ is a half-time stepper adorned with glistening keys and improvised melodies that flawlessly embodies the cross-pollinated spirit of the genre, continuing the lineage of what occurred before with a sincere appreciation. Rounding things off is ‘Body Know’ - born from an experiment with a bass guitar and beat-boxed percussion - that fuses echoed vocals with a driving, analogue funk. Soulflow offers an honest portrayal of Stefan’s musical story, honing in on its past to build an expansive vision of its future. As he summarises succinctly: ‘This collection offers a glimpse into my journey thus far, with the anticipation of more to come.

Modern progressive rock band DILEMMA presents its third full length album, ‘The Purpose Paradox’. This concept album, spanning over 60 minutes, is released on CD, double LP and via all streaming platforms, and distributed internationally by Butler Records, a division of V2 Records.

It features 9 brand new tracks ranging in length from 4 to nearly 16 minutes. The sound showcases a broader side of DILEMMA — louder, faster, more technical, more progressive. With new frontman Jermain van der Bogt (Wudstik), the vocals have become rawer and more varied. Almost six years after the previous record ‘Random Acts of Liberation’ the band sounds reborn.

Like its predecessor, ‘The Purpose Paradox’ was produced by drummer Collin Leijenaar, who, together with the famed music wizard Rich Mouser (The Mouse House, LA), was also responsible for the mix and mastering. Thanks to their unmatched ears, the result is an audio experience that DILEMMA has worked on with great pride over the past years.

As said, ‘The Purpose Paradox’ was written and produced like a concept album. Because let’s face it, you’re either a progressive rock band or you’re not. But seriously: the story of ‘The Purpose Paradox’ revolves around a man named Neon. Someone like us in the here and now. During his quest for connection and fulfilment, he finds support from an unconventional guide named Electra. She points out to him that sometimes the things we look for are the things that found us first. Will Neon’s heart glow again when he discovers the outer light? Or does the greed of the corporate machine known as The Hand succeed in extinguishing his inner fire? Can Neon’s secrets be deleted? And will he, in the end, arrive in the comfort zone of allies in the raw, rainy city he once left behind?

Sasu Ripatti presents the fourth volume in his "Dancefloor Classics" series with five 10" releases coming throughout 2023. Music for imaginary dancefloors, released on Ripatti's own label "Rajaton".

”Look up, into the light” she said, while the camera shutter clicked. ”Like this? Does it look holy?” His neck felt stiff. Her reply: ”Yes, just like that. What do you mean holy? Like religious? ”No, more like trying to look very far, somewhere beyond what we can see.” ”Okay, stand still, I’m going to come close to you now. The light hits your face great.” click, click, click.

He noticed her fingernails. They were not polished. Natural. Even somewhat rugged, as if something wore out the fingers slightly. What had these hands held besides the camera? What made the edges of her fingernails drift off?

He thought it’s weird to look straight into the camera. The photographer had closed her left eye, the one not looking into the lens. Then it opened, she looked up, perusing the surroundings, then she closed her eye again, then looked up, closed, looking up, very quickly. It all seemed very professional. Maybe she calculated the light, making sure it’s close to perfect. ”What will these photos look like?” – the thought popped into his head briefly. It was liberating to think it wouldn’t matter.

”What’s that song playing?” he asked. ”Wait a sec, Ol’ Dirty Bastard?” she replied. ”Oh yeah, right. But the sample?” ”Hey, could you look up again, like that. No, lower.”

New directions: ”Look out from the window, turn left.” ”My left or yours?” ”Yours, I always try to think from the direction of my model.” How professional! This is a good shoot, so natural. Should I worry about how the photos look like? No, I don’t want to. His thoughts bounced around. What would the story be like? It’s a big newspaper, everyone will read it. Maybe someone drinks coffee and eats a stroopwafel while they do it. Will they place the waffle on top of the mug for a brief while, so that it gets hot and the syrup melts a little? Then it feels wet, and you can bend the cookie.

She broke his train of thought off midway through: ”Now turn right, but look left, and slightly up, but don’t turn your face right.” ”Umm, like this? Sounds like a set of pilates instructions.” she laughed ”You do pilates?” ”Yeah, it’s hard sometimes. Have you tried?” ”No”, she said. ”I’m not good for sports that are done in groups.” ”Yeah, but in pilates you can just be inside your mind, drowning in your private thoughts.”

”What are you thinking in pilates?” she asked, taking more photos. ”Well, mostly just which way is right. And which left.” click, click.

Q&A with Sasu Ripatti:

1) Tell us something about the EP series ”Dancefloor Classics”, what’s the idea and what can we expect?

I’ve been slowly writing these sort of dance music pieces and finally curated them together for a conceptual release. I like to create music for a dancefloor that exists only in my imagination and doesn’t try to suck up to the standardized reality.

2) Your vinyl format is 10” which is quite special (as opposed to LP / 12”). Why did you choose it?

It’s my favourite format, absolutely. The size is perfect, and you can make it sound really good @ 45 rpm. And you still can make great artwork.

3) You seem interested in sampling/repurposing, what does it mean to you as an artist to approach something already existing from a new angle? How does the source material inform you about the approach to take?

I guess i could flip it around and just say I’ve outgrown synths or electronic sounds to a great extend, and having gotten rid off all my synths already good while ago I’ve used samples as my main source material a lot. It’s obvious on this series that i’ve sampled existing music, but I also sample instruments and things in the studio and resample my own library that I have built over the years, it’s quite large. To me the end result matters, not so much how I get there. Once I have something on my keyboard and play around, it’s all an instrument, though with sampling other music it becomes a really interesting and complex one as you’re possibly playing rhythm, but also harmonic content and maybe hooks or whatever, all at once.
I never sample premeditadedly, like listening to records and looking for that mindblowing 3 sec part. I just throw the cards in the air and see what lands where, just full intuition and hopefully zero mind involved, playing tons of stuff, trying things, just recording hours of stuff. Then comes the interesting part to listen to hours of mostly crazy stuff and finding that mindblowing 3 sec part.

4) What is your relationship with the dancefloor (conceptually and/or in experiences / as a performer)?

Very complicated. I have never really felt comfortable on a dancefloor but have always wanted to. There’s something in club music, in theory, that really speaks to me. It has never really materialized for me – speaking mainly from a performer’s point of view who goes to check on a dancefloor for a moment after a concert. I never have DJ’d or felt much interest towards it. But again, I love the idea and concept of DJing. As well as producing music for imaginary DJs. Lately, as in the past 10+ years, I haven’t even performed in any sort of club spaces. So my relationship to the dancefloor is quite removed and reduced, but there’s quite a bit of passion and interest left.

All tracks composed and produced by Sasu Ripatti.
Artwork & photography by Marc Hohmann.
Mastering by Stephan Mathieu for Schwebung Mastering.
Vinyl cut by SST Brueggemann.
Publishing by WARP Music Ltd.

From Cape Town to Cairo, and now to fans, stages and screens around the world, PJ Morton shares his newest album, fully made in the motherland. Cape Town to Cairo is a collection of songs that he created in 30 days throughout 4 countries in Africa — South Africa, Nigeria, Ghana and Egypt. Described as the best trip of his life, this transformative journey began as just the seed of an idea last fall, but instantly grew into his most sonically-sprawling and immediately-inspired record to date. With no music, lyrics or preconceptions, he stepped foot onto the continent with two thoughts: a wild dream to write and record his next LP in less than a month, and a mission to immerse himself in as many different cultures, stories and communities as he could.

Surrounded by featured collaborators like Fireboy DML, Mádé Kuti, Asa, Ndabo Zulu, and Soweto Spiritual Singers, as well as additional producers including P.Priime and The Cavemen., his own live band and local musicians, PJ Morton used music as his common language. Always his greatest way of communicating, he expressed his feelings and experiences of Africa through songs he and others were forming together on the spot, side-by-side in different studios, cities and towns for the very first time. None of the tracks were written before he arrived or after he left, and the arrangements showcase both the countries’ native genres as well as the innate, stylistic instincts that have made Morton a 5x GRAMMY-winner and 20x GRAMMY-nominee, whether it be his soul, R&B and gospel roots, or the pop prowess he has further honed as a member of Maroon 5.

“When you’ve been in music as long as I have, you’re constantly looking for inspiration,” says PJ Morton. “And you’re looking for the things that made you want to do it in the first place. I’ve made albums every type of way you can think, so I wanted to try something I hadn’t done before. As a Black American who had never been to South or West Africa, I knew there was something there waiting for me. So I put a little pressure on myself to make a full record in a month, but I also said, ‘If I’m gonna go to Africa, I want to see Africa.’ We made music, but we also formed connections. We made new friends, and this is just the start.”

ESSENCE adds, "This trip is not just a physical move, it's a spiritual return…The soul of Africa pulses through every note he plays and every word he sings,” and VIBE adds that “the multi-faceted artist is fully embracing a new phase in his life.” Cape Town to Cairo marks PJ Morton’s first album since 2022’s Watch The Sun, which featured collaborations with Stevie Wonder, Nas, JoJo, Wale, Jill Scott, Alex Isley and more. Since then, Morton has become the first Black composer to write an original song for a Disney attraction, having just finished making the music for Tiana's Bayou Adventure, opening on June 28th, 2024 at Disney World and Fall 2024 at Disneyland. He also won his latest GRAMMY earlier this year, worked with Samara Joy on “Why I’m Here” for Regina King’s Netflix film Shirley, and landed a cover of his song “Don’t Let Go” as the soundtrack to Apple’s iPhone 15 commercial.

PJ Morton recently returned from headlining his debut shows in Asia, New Zealand and Australia, and announced an extensive Cape Town to Cairo Tour for North America summer and fall 2024. Following iconic performances at New Orleans Jazz Fest, The Kennedy Center, Roots Picnic and Newport Jazz Fest, Morton will embark on a run of more than 25 dates across the country, including New York City’s Beacon Theatre, Chicago’s Chicago Theatre, Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium, Los Angeles’ The Wiltern, and dozens of others.

On the heels of his headline tour and Maroon 5’s Las Vegas residency, PJ Morton will publish a life-spanning new book titled Saturday Night, Sunday Morning. The memoir sees him recounting and reflecting upon a trailblazing path that continues to defy expectations and straddle the tensions of music and faith, race and culture, expression and identity. As the son of two pastors and gospel artists, Morton grew up grounded by the sound of the Church, but soon found himself drawn to R&B, pop and soul, writing songs that the industry, his family and community struggled to understand. In the face of mounting pressure, rejection and constant miscategorization, he committed himself to a steadfast path of independence: making music on his own terms, launching his own record label, joining one of the biggest bands in the world while staying true to his New Orleans roots. The risks he took paid off, and through his transformation from preacher's kid to the busiest man in showbiz – performing everywhere from his local congregation to the Super Bowl, collaborating with everyone from his father to Stevie Wonder, Erykah Badu, Jon Batiste and Lil Wayne – he hopes to encourage readers and listeners to overcome obstacles as they seek their dreams.

On March 24, 2023 Rob Mazurek assembled his endlessly psychedelic and explorative large ensemble Exploding Star Orchestra under the dome of Chicago’s Adler Planetarium to perform material from their recently released album Lightning Dreamers along with a number of new pieces.

A digital projection flashed an ever-changing stream of vividly colored, abstract shapes derived from Mazurek’s paintings and animations over the audience’s heads, while the Orchestra, which on this night numbered eight musicians besides its leader, transformed the stylistically disparate pieces from Lightning Dreamers into an enveloping maelstrom. Electric pianists Angelica Sanchez and Craig Taborn pushed layers of plush texture back and forth over the intricate, tripartite grooves of bassist Ingebrigt Håker Flaten and two drummers, Chad Taylor and Gerald Cleaver. Mazurek’s trumpets and wordless cries, Tomeka Reid’s cello and Nicole Mitchell’s flute and voice periodically surfaced out of the flow, issuing sharp, energetic statements, while Damon Locks’ proclamations flickered in and out of the mix like an erratic signal from some interstellar radio announcer. Together, they reimagined the brooding sound of Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew as a force for transcendent uplift.

At one point, Mitchell put down her flute, spoke into Mazurek’s ear and pointed up to toward the dome. As he looked up, his own horn came down, and for a moment, the two of them gazed with undisguised awe at the spectacle that the Orchestra had unleashed. In a time when so many forces conspire to bring people down, this concert was an invitation to look up and out past the horizon.

REISSUED!!! Received an 8.1 rating from Pitchfork. "Sadly, many will hear Chris Corsano & Bill Orcutt's latest LP, Made Out of Sound, as 'not-jazz,' though it would be more aptly described as 'not-not-jazz.' In a better world, it would warrant above-the-fold reviews in Downbeat, or an appearance on David Sanborn's late-night show (if someone would only give it back to him). More likely, we can hope for a haiku review on Byron Coley's Twitter timeline to sufficiently connect the various improvised terrains trodden by this long-time duo—but if you've been able to listen past the overmodulated icepick fidelity of Harry Pussy, it should surprise you not an iota that Orcutt's style is rooted as much in the fractal melodies of Trane and Taylor as it is in Delta syrup or Tin Pan Alley glitz. As for Corsano, well, it may seem daft to call this particular record 'jazz' (because duh, it has a drummer), but to me Corsano is beyond jazz, almost beyond music, his ambidextrous, octopoid technique grappling many stylistic levers and spraying a torrent of light from every direction. Corsano's ferocity has elevated many 'mere' improv records to transcendence, but here he's crafted his polyrhythms within more narrative channels, bringing to mind his 'mannered' playing in the lamented Flower-Corsano duo. It's not 'groove' playing precisely, but it follows many grooves simultaneously, much like Orcutt's own melodic musings—which is why they're so naturally lock-in-key here. Which maybe makes it all the more surprising that Made Out of Sound was in fact recorded in different rooms on different coasts at different times, and stitched together by Orcutt on his desktop. Corsano recorded the drums in Ithaca, NY, and (as Orcutt states), 'I didn't edit them at all. I overdubbed two guitar tracks, panned left/right. I'd listen to the drums a couple times, pick a tuning, then improvise a part, thinking of the first track as backing and the second as the 'lead', though those are pretty fluid terms. I was watching the waveforms as I was recording, so I could see when a crescendo was coming or when to bring it down.' Fluidity ties the tracks together. With a little more groove and a little less around-the-beat maneuvering, one could almost hear the boiling harmonic layers as Miles-oid in 'Man Carrying Thing,' but with new-found Sharrockian modalities, Corsano accentuating the tumbling nature of the falling notes. The Sharrock vein continues with 'How to Cook a Wolf,' its Blind Willie-esque melodic simplicity and repetition extrapolated 360-style in a repetitive descending riff that falls into Cippolina-isms (by way of Verlaine ) until the end crashes upon the shore. Much like Orcutt's last solo album, Odds Against Tomorrow, there's a gentler, almost pastoral flow to some tracks ('Some Tennessee Jar,' 'A Port in Air,' 'Thirteen Ways of Looking') that calls to mind the mixolydian swamplands of Lonnie Liston Smith—but unlike Odds , other tracks ('The Thing Itself') smash that same lyricism into overdriven, multi-dimensional melodic clumps that push several vector envelopes at once in an Interstellar Space vein. With the help of Corsano, Orcutt has managed to slither even further out of the noise/improv pigeonhole lazy listeners/writers keep trying to shove him into. Looking at the back cover of Made Out of Sound , we should not see Orcutt hurling a guitar into the air with post-punk bravado, Corsano toiling behind him in the engine room—we should witness an instrument levitating from his hands, rising on invisible major-key tendrils of melody, fired by percussion, spiraling into an invisible event horizon..."—Tom Carter

Malcolm Pardon (Roll The Dice) is back into the fold for his second solo album, "The Abyss". The album, which will be released on Leaf, is a meditation on the taboos that surround mortality in our culture, looking past the bleak or macabre to observe death as a multi-layered, lifelong acquaintance. It"s also highly melodic and very beautiful. Malcolm has enlisted some remarkable creative talent around the project, including photographer Chris Shonting, designer Peter Ström and film-maker Oskar Wrangö.

Malcolm Pardon (Roll The Dice) is back into the fold for his second solo album, "The Abyss". The album, which will be released on Leaf, is a meditation on the taboos that surround mortality in our culture, looking past the bleak or macabre to observe death as a multi-layered, lifelong acquaintance. It"s also highly melodic and very beautiful. Malcolm has enlisted some remarkable creative talent around the project, including photographer Chris Shonting, designer Peter Ström and film-maker Oskar Wrangö.

Satan’s history is storied, their albums and incendiary live shows, iconic. The Newcastle, England-bred lineup may quip that their career has been “44 years of prolonged mayhem with a 20-year lunch break”—forming in 1980, eventually pausing before reuniting in 2011—but circa 2024 finds the band thriving, writing, recording, and touring at the top of their game. Proof positive is their seventh studio album, and third for Metal Blade, Songs in Crimson. If 2022’s Earth Infernal album was brutal, up-tempo and with loud guitars, guitarist Russ Tippins calls Songs in Crimson “concise. It’s more to the point and gets there quicker. One of the reasons behind the title Songs in Crimson is that this record is very ‘song’ focused. There’s more punch this time around. Each chorus speaks for itself.” An eminently relatable song is “Era (The Day Will Come).” “There is nobody on this planet who is not familiar with the feeling of loss. When you get to the age we are at in this band, it becomes a weekly occurrence. If there is a message in the lyrics, it is pretty much ‘do not take anything for granted.’ Especially people. You just don’t know what is around the corner that you can’t see coming.” Satan’s chemistry, honed by years of collaboration, brotherhood and love, is unbreakable. “We played at a metal festival where the headlining band had zero original members,” Tippins says. “I cannot get my head around that, though I admire their bravery. We are the genuine article.” To be clear: “We did not reunite just to trade on past glory,” he concludes. “If you want nostalgia, this is not the band for you. We look only ahead and always will.”

Satan’s history is storied, their albums and incendiary live shows, iconic. The Newcastle, England-bred lineup may quip that their career has been “44 years of prolonged mayhem with a 20-year lunch break”—forming in 1980, eventually pausing before reuniting in 2011—but circa 2024 finds the band thriving, writing, recording, and touring at the top of their game. Proof positive is their seventh studio album, and third for Metal Blade, Songs in Crimson. If 2022’s Earth Infernal album was brutal, up-tempo and with loud guitars, guitarist Russ Tippins calls Songs in Crimson “concise. It’s more to the point and gets there quicker. One of the reasons behind the title Songs in Crimson is that this record is very ‘song’ focused. There’s more punch this time around. Each chorus speaks for itself.” An eminently relatable song is “Era (The Day Will Come).” “There is nobody on this planet who is not familiar with the feeling of loss. When you get to the age we are at in this band, it becomes a weekly occurrence. If there is a message in the lyrics, it is pretty much ‘do not take anything for granted.’ Especially people. You just don’t know what is around the corner that you can’t see coming.” Satan’s chemistry, honed by years of collaboration, brotherhood and love, is unbreakable. “We played at a metal festival where the headlining band had zero original members,” Tippins says. “I cannot get my head around that, though I admire their bravery. We are the genuine article.” To be clear: “We did not reunite just to trade on past glory,” he concludes. “If you want nostalgia, this is not the band for you. We look only ahead and always will.”