Posh End Music boss Fear-E returns with his second album ‘Descent into Ascension (Snapshots of a Mental State)’ this February. Recorded during a period of withdrawal and isolation, the release serves as a diary of a mental state as the producer worked through a period of challenging mental health. Here, he hones in on his primary love of techno bringing in influences of Bangaltar-ish French house and disco and also pays homage to EBM originators Nitzer Ebb.
The first chapter of a new series exploring identity, temporality and the many dialects of contemporary techno. Four tracks, four distinct approaches, yet bound by a shared pursuit of tension, texture and transcendence.
Chronicles Diary introduces its identity with WAYF VOL1, the first entry in a series asking when, not where, this music belongs. The answer comes in four club pieces that favour impact over ornament, tracing tension, texture and a sense of forward movement.
Boyd Schidt & Uvall's "Bullet Train" is tensile 4/4, serrated hats and a tunnelling bassline pulling the room into a tight zone. Commissar Lag's "Battle Rites" ups the pressure, all offline bass and percussive rhythm. MMSS pares things back on "Aion_01," a looping, hypnotic figure that blurs time without dropping energy. Time Traveller (UK) closes with "Stud," glitched and driving, a roughcast groove that breathes between the hits. Four perspectives, one intent: functional, underground Techno that works.
Grace & Raffaella is the first collaborative release by ML and Vittoria Totale. Over nine tracks, the album strikes a deceptively minimalist tone, taking in a ton of musical as well as literary references. An elegy on a journey back to the present, with all the hushed intensity of an informed fever dream, Grace & Raffaella has a magic-realist feel. Its vocal parts serve as loopy self-fulfilling prophecies. Cut off from the sun, the gorge grows darker. Using an electroacoustic sense of spacing, as well as abstracted current-day club influences, with scraps of background noise fading in and out, this album's use and treatment of a snippet-like narrative is its core aesthetic. A digital gleam drenches the spoken bits into instances of subtle surrealism. Like a kitchen sink drama stripped of all deadweight. We are on the edge of relinquishing all control here. Rip up your diary and let go of the language of the old ones. Grace & Raffaella is a seductive slice of modern hyper-pop that defines its own intentions over and over again.
Following a string of acclaimed collaborations, including Agua Dulce with percussionist Laura Robles and Mapambazuko alongside Congolese guitarist Titi Bakorta, Peruvian artist Alejandra Cárdenas (aka Ale Hop) returns with her most personal work to date yet, A Body Like a Home. Marking her first album under her birth name, the project is a sonic memoir exploring the tangled realms of trauma, recovery, and love through autobiographical soundscapes.
A Body Like a Home is the artist at her most exposed. Comprising 13 songs and 15 poems, the album sees her set aside collaborative fusions for solo catharsis, channeling years of turbulence - intergenerational scars left by colonialism, racism, domestic violence, and alcoholism - into a work that oscillates between brutality and tenderness. Cárdenas states: “I grew up under Alberto Fujimori’s dictatorship, when a veil of hopelessness seemed to settle over everything. This is the backdrop of the album. The songs and poems trace the inevitable loop between private wounds - addiction, domestic violence, fractured intimacy - and Peru’s national scars, carved by colonialism. It’s not a straight story or a resolution. Writing and composing became a ritual of digging for meaning, into what’s buried, disguised, or renamed, until the body itself became a living archive.
” At the heart of the album is Cárdenas’s own voice - part witness, part confessor - reciting over layers of electric guitars, electronic textures, the haunting violin of Mexican musician Gibrana Cervantes, and a collage of field recordings, from rainfall, muffled whispers, broken glass, to archival protest footage from Peru. The result is a work that resonates like a diary written in sound.
The first single, "Motherland", is a searing testimony where Cárdenas voice cracks under the weight of history and personal loss. Amid a storm of distorted guitars, she traces the cyclical legacies of colonialism, from state massacres branding Indigenous bodies as “terrorists” to the spiral of addiction as an unavoidable future. The lyrics draw parallels between political and domestic violence: a mother’s drunken knife pressed to her chest, and a motherland where racism is currency. She utters: “sacrifice demands a body.” Yet, amid the wreckage, a willful grip on love and faith persists. Ultimately, A Body Like a Home is a document of transformation. Tracks like "Evangelina" and the title piece "A Body Like a Home" hold space for resilience, spirituality, and love, while "Early Road" and "Going South" thread subtle nods to Peruvian folklore, opening up bright vignettes into a sense of belonging.
The poetry chapbook accompanying A Body Like a Home (five of its pieces are also recited on the album) extends the work, building a parallel architecture. Oscillating between the documentary and the mythic, the intimate and the forensic, the profane and the oniric, these poems practice a theology of the ordinary, where everyday objects - cameras, knives, moth-eaten cotton - are charged withspiritual and historical weight. Here, the body is land, house, battlefield, collective pain, geological territory; and trauma is, in contrast, archival, cellular, ritualistic, inherited. Read alongside the music, the stories refract across two mediums: songs give them breath and poems give them bone.
Operating on the fringes of pure improv, organised chaos, minimal composition, lo-fi electronics and Italian spaghetti westerns, wide-eyed and with a healthy dose of DIY aesthetics lies the world of Jaan. It’s a poetic & cosmic universe, exploring “discreet music” whilst wandering on the edges of the Cat People soundtrack & Brian Eno’s more experimental output, in which you might yourself find floating, wandering or in the middle of a market place.
Jaan is a collective of one, a deliberately anonymous activistic unit with strong ties to the international art scene. Purposefully bypassing the know-it-all of the the internet & embracing the bygone mystery of dusty old archives and deep-dive searching, remarkably little is known about this project. Jaan is lead by veteran experimental sonic alchemist Jaan; they operate between Greenland, the Middle East and Europe, with frequent associates Lisqa, Mashid & Schneorr N. acting as local hubs for collaboration and exploration.
The purpose of this wilful obscurity: full focus on the actual music, whether live events or on recordings. Which brings us to Baghali, their first for World of Echo. It’s a deeply personal album, much like slowly browsing old family albums filled with vaguely remembered tales, some still very much present, some faded, leaving but a ghost-like reflection of what once was. Baghali was compiled over the course of a year on the road, trapped in snow storms, waiting for cancelled flights and stuck rides. It’s made up of snippets of diary, quick recordings on road sides, abandoned buildings, garden ruins, vast desert and focussed studio sessions, following a collage-like aesthetic and steeped in an exploration of non-lineair storytelling. There’s broken memories, a sense of displacement and an occasional yearning for what can’t be again, clouded in fever and unrest, but there is also hope, wonderment and bright colours seeping through the cracks in the wall. Jaan weaves home-made instruments, old tape loops, broken synths, beat-up reeds, dusty beat boxes and the occasional doom guitar squall into a tapestry of fractured sound, with tracks following their own inherent logic rather than following formats. Sounds crash in and out, field recordings placing the listener firmly in an environment then throwing several perspectives at once onto them, with individual elements - a wandering clarinet, a lone mandoline, a beat out of place yet perfectly in place - slowly walking in and out & doing their thing.
The whole album is alive, breathes, takes a wrong turn, gets lost, somehow finds its way again - effortless and with a unique sense of space and flow.
Baghali is released digitally and on vinyl in an edition of 300 on 3rd October 2025.
Heith's music has always been infused with sacred mystery, striking a delicate balance between lived experience and imagination. On Escape Lounge, his second full-length release for PAN, Heith draws inspiration from contemporary digital spirituality and interpretations of experience that are crossing over from cultural niches into the mainstream - including internetbased conspiracy theories and psychological operations. The album presents a sonic diary recorded across Milan, Berlin, London, and Stockholm, crafting a post-informational folklore while exploring new territories in personal songwriting. The title Escape Lounge, inspired by airport waiting areas, serves as a metaphorical waiting room of the mind. Its hidden passages can lead either to peril and loss or to enlightenment and kaleidoscopic mental landscapes. This liminal space echoes the mysterious realms of Twin Peaks or the viral "Backrooms" phenomenon. Within it, contributing musicians - including frequent collaborators Leonardo Rubboli, Aase Nielsen, and 33 drummer Alexander Iezzi - move like ethereal presences, creating intangible soundscapes that leave traces of post-hypnotic melancholia. Notably, the vocal contributions from Price and James K enhance the otherworldly atmosphere, their multifaceted timbres adding layers of intentional ambiguity. Throughout the album, Heith masterfully blends acoustic instruments, human voices, and digital technology along an uncharted path that references the experimental pop of 90s trip-hop, 2000s indie-folk songwriting, and lush Mediterranean psychedelia. The sounds are meticulously crafted, combining synthesizers with guitar-based compositions in a computational songwriting approach that creates a collage across eras and landscapes. Each track unveils new dimensions of this delicate hallucinogenic narrative, delivering an immersive listening experience. As reality continuously shifts, Escape Lounge emerges as both sanctuary and confinement - a space of momentary connections and endless potential. In 2025, Heith will debut a new live show and audiovisual collaboration titled 'The Talk' with James K and Günseli Yalcinkaya, commissioned and premiering at Sonar Festival, Terraforma, Nuit Sonores, and Reworks.
Black Vinyl[14,24 €]
Welcome back to sublabel Trix Trax, our series dedicated to sharing the Techno side of things.
After a little hiatus Trix Trax is back with a stacked four track VA, Technotations Vol. 1. Blending techno, IDM and breaks this releases showcases some of the many styles and energies the genre has to offer.
Starting off the VA, we have the track ‘Losing’ from Japanese producer MAGPOST. This loopy, hypnotic groover will add a layer of intrigue and mystery to your deep and moody sets!
Next up we have ‘Rise’ from JD Typo who’s debut EP, started off the Trix Trax series. This speedy techno cut will cause mayhem on the dance floors, nourishing souls in its wake with ethereal lush pads and vocal chops that creep in as the track progresses!
On the flip side we have a sobering track from Ukrainian producer Taras Vinnichenko called 24.02.22. Created the day Russia invaded Ukraine, t’s an auditory diary of Taras’ reaction to the unfolding of events. The crunch of the bass and breaks audate the panic and disarray on the ground.
Closing off the EP we have a unique groover from US producer Mr. Projectile who recently released an album on Wex sub label, La Luna. This crunchy and jittery cut takes you on a bass heavy, boom-filled journey of speedy techno and IDM!
On the sleeve, Sonia Malpeso delivers another whacky custom design on the front sleeve as well as a beautiful typographic showcase on the back and inner sleeve!
Marbled Vinyl[18,70 €]
Welcome back to sublabel Trix Trax, our series dedicated to sharing the Techno side of things.
After a little hiatus Trix Trax is back with a stacked four track VA, Technotations Vol. 1. Blending techno, IDM and breaks this releases showcases some of the many styles and energies the genre has to offer.
Starting off the VA, we have the track ‘Losing’ from Japanese producer MAGPOST. This loopy, hypnotic groover will add a layer of intrigue and mystery to your deep and moody sets!
Next up we have ‘Rise’ from JD Typo who’s debut EP, started off the Trix Trax series. This speedy techno cut will cause mayhem on the dance floors, nourishing souls in its wake with ethereal lush pads and vocal chops that creep in as the track progresses!
On the flip side we have a sobering track from Ukrainian producer Taras Vinnichenko called 24.02.22. Created the day Russia invaded Ukraine, t’s an auditory diary of Taras’ reaction to the unfolding of events. The crunch of the bass and breaks audate the panic and disarray on the ground.
Closing off the EP we have a unique groover from US producer Mr. Projectile who recently released an album on Wex sub label, La Luna. This crunchy and jittery cut takes you on a bass heavy, boom-filled journey of speedy techno and IDM!
On the sleeve, Sonia Malpeso delivers another whacky custom design on the front sleeve as well as a beautiful typographic showcase on the back and inner sleeve!
Since his Beat Diary debut (a 12xLP box set comprising 365 beats recorded daily over the course of a year), Julian Sartorius has immersed himself in unique and ambitious projects - trekking the path not travelled to arrive at rhythmic life forms through found objects and prepared instruments. Equally as mighty are his two other escapades, the most recent being Locked Grooves - 112 beats cut as endless loops on vinyl spanning 56 dense 1.8 second compositions per side. Preceding that is his auditory hike into the mountains (Hidden Tracks: Basel - Genève), wading through and playing the landscapes around him like a lithophone.
While Julian’s previous releases focus on innovative and conceptual approaches to realizing an album, his new venture on Marionette (titled Mux) is a culmination of all his efforts thus far to mimic a synthesizer and drum machine. This seemingly impossible feat challenges Julian to experiment and develop a musical language that bridges the gap between organic timbres and electronic music. When listening to Mux, one might simply forget that the seemingly electronic sounds are only constructed organically via hand movements. The common thread in all his works thus far is that the drums are treated as resonant bodies - free to flow and form rhythm and harmony in spacetime.
This is Julian’s second outing for the label, the first being (the long out of print) Sulla Pelle with Valentina Magaletti in 2019. Other collaborations include prolific artists such as Matthew Herbert, Sylvie Courvoisier, Gyda Valtysdottir, Dimlite, Shahzad Ismaily and Dan Carey (Speedy Wunderground).
Dorian Concept returns with "Miniatures," a collection of his renowned one-take synthesizer recordings that he’s been known for sharing online since the mid-2000s. “This release was right under my nose” he says. Over the past two decades, Dorian Concept has uploaded videos of himself "fooling around" on various synthesizers and keyboards – long before the rise of short-form content. These signature one- to two-minute performances have sparked countless covers, remixes and reinterpretations by musicians and producers alike. Through this project, Dorian Concept aims to celebrate a long-standing bond with his instruments and honor it in the form of a photo album.
In his own words:
As a kid, every night before bed, I would sit in the same place and draw a comic. I rarely finished them, but I couldn’t go to sleep without having started one. These "Miniatures" and the preceding videos I’ve recorded come from the same place. They’re the expression of a ritual.
Around 2020, I created a compact setup using three devices – a mono synthesizer, an analogue reverb and a looper –which I separated from the rest of the studio. Every day, before I started working, I would improvise on this small setup and at the end of every month, I would record a video and share it with the world. These songs were made in front of you, in a Truman-Show like fashion.
Now they feel like diary-entries that capture the timeline of a deepening relationship, the harvest of limitation and repetition, and the beauty of simplicity.
The cover art is a drawing by the esteemed Austrian artist Leopold Strobl (courtesy of Gallery Gugging), who is known for his distinctive small-format work. The closing track, “An Unopened Letter,” features the genre-defying guitarist and producer Bibio.
Mark Barrott’s 2024 album, 'Everything Changes, Nothing Ends', is a profound and deeply personal exploration of life, love, and loss. Released on Anjunadeep Reflections, this album is a follow-up to his critically acclaimed 2023 release, Jōhatsu (蒸発). Unlike his previous works, this album chronicles a more intimate and emotional journey, reflecting the life Mark had with his late wife, and the harrowing experience of her illness and eventual passing. It stands as both a tribute to her memory and a reflection on the profound impact she had on his life and music. Mark has been a constant innovator throughout his nearly four-decade-long career. He’s best known to some as Future Loop Foundation, the alias under which he created ambient drum and bass in the mid-90s. Others know him for his ‘Sketches From an Island’ series, released under his own name, which played a significant role in the revival of the Balearic music scene. He’s also the founder of International Feel, a label that was instrumental in the bespoke vinyl movement of the 2010s and played a role in bringing DJ Harvey back into the spotlight. Barrott’s work has always pushed the boundaries of genre, and 'Everything Changes, Nothing Ends' is no exception. However, this album is perhaps his most personal and emotionally charged work to date. The album’s creation was born out of tragedy. Barrott began writing music for the album during the eleven weeks of his wife’s illness, using it as a form of therapy to cope with the overwhelming grief and loneliness that followed her passing on January 25, 2023. “I actually started writing music most nights throughout this process—it was therapy to mitigate the loneliness of coming back to a cold, dark winter home after spending the day with her at the hospital,” Barrott explains. What began as a way to process his emotions evolved into a project that would ultimately become 'Everything Changes, Nothing Ends'. The album traverses genres, blending orchestral, ambient, and jazz elements to create a rich and varied soundscape. Each track on the album serves as an audio diary, capturing specific moments from the eleven weeks of his wife’s illness. The music oscillates between intense emotional peaks and more soothing, delicate moods, reflecting the rollercoaster of emotions that come with facing such a profound loss. Ultimately, this album is about acceptance and gratitude for what was, not grief for what could have been. It addresses the fundamental issue that confronts all human beings: life and death. ‘Everything Changes, Nothing Ends’ is out on 29th November on Reflections.
“Music is my forever cove,” writes Portland, Oregon’s Luke Wyland of the ideas that give shape to Kuma Cove, his latest album under his own name. Though named after a real place on the Oregon coast, Kuma Cove casts its gaze far beyond the sightseer’s line of vision. Recorded live in the studio and blurring obvious lines between computer-based composition and electro-acoustic instrumentation, it is an album about flow, borders, transitory states, and shelter. Composed of discontinuous ripples and repetitions (“I’m forever searching for a better descriptor than looping, which feels too simple and flattened by overuse,” Wyland says), shaped into richly emotive arcs, and informed by his experience as a person who stutters, it is also an album about identity, self-expression, and the energies that sluice through and across what we perceive as linear time—like floodwaters seeking an exit, like streams running into the sea.
Artist’s Statement:
I made this record while spending significant time in the woods by the Sandy River in Corbett, Oregon,
where I've had my studio for the last five years. It is a diary of spontaneous live recordings edited to highlight the moments of clarity that emerge from long-form improvisations. These compositions express a slowing internal rhythm. An unwinding. A somatic recalibration as I enter middle age. A newly empowered vulnerability.
Here are the internalized cadences of my stutter, flowing freely from my fingers. The musicality of my disfluency is revealed in its frictions, elongations, and foreshortenings. Disruptions in linear time, where the bubbling cadences of my stutter find unexpected pathways, reveal the elasticity of the present moment. This is my idiosyncratic language, shaped and inspired by my disability. Subliminally mirroring internal processes, neural firings, cognitive entanglements...
The title, Kuma Cove, refers to a beloved cove on the coast of Oregon my wife and I return to yearly. There has always been something so magnetic about coves. The way they cradle one from the overwhelming enormity of the ocean beyond, muting a primordial fear. I experience these improvisations as ecosystems I'm able to inhabit for stretches of time, embodying the particular rhythms and sensorial textures within each. Music is my forever cove. Everything you hear is created live in Ableton on a setup I've been honing for 15 years. I celebrate MIDI and computer music as an extension of self and strive to make it as expressive as any analog instrument. I was a visual artist for the first half of my life and quickly adapted those skills to composing and producing on a computer. The transition felt natural within the landscape of DAW's interfaces, especially as a synesthete. Ableton and its community of Max creators continue to surprise me with its expansiveness.
I'm forever searching for a better descriptor than looping, which feels too simple and flattened by overuse. I envision sonic loops as tangled masses of time, three-dimensional knots spinning on tilted axes, or overlapping wreaths refracting out a myriad of colors. My practice is continually refocusing my ear to what is revealed in the repetitions, searching for the fingerprint of each. I find it incredible how technology lets us manipulate time like this. Nothing on this record is quantized or locked to a universal bpm. Experiencing numerous tempos at once feels important. Recordings as mirrors. Freedom from expected (conversational) flow as we hold time for each other.
-Luke Wyland, August 2024
Artist Bio:
Luke Wyland is an interdisciplinary artist, composer, and performer based in Portland, OR (USA). Wyland has been releasing critically acclaimed records for the past 20 years in the groups AU and Methods Body, as LWW, and under his own name, working with such labels as New Amsterdam, Beacon Sound, Balmat, The Leaf Label, and Aagoo Records. As a person who stutters, Wyland’s approach to music is informed by his idiosyncratic relationship with language. Wyland believes deeply in the cathartic power of live performance as a means for collective healing. Through an interdisciplinary art practice that focuses on improvisation, somatic embodiment, bespoke tuning systems, the cadences of disfluent speech, and time manipulation technologies, he’s collaborated with choreographers, high-school choirs, filmmakers, sound designers, and renowned musicians such as John Niekrasz, Holland Andrews, Colin Stetson, and Abraham Gomez-Delgado. He’s also the co-creator of the “It’s A Fucking Miracle” dance class with Tahni Holt.
Wyland has toured nationally and internationally and performed at the Whitney Museum, Ecstatic Music Festival, Issue Project Room, PICA’s Time-Based Arts Festival, End of the Road Festival, and Les Nuits Botanique, among others.
Admittedly, I'm not a great salesperson when it comes to running our little label. I do my best not to give into hyperbole or build something up too intensely if someone has not heard a new artist yet. I prefer to simply present the music and let the listener decide how they feel about it. However, we live in an age when the "story" put together by publicists, labels, and managers are often the driving force of an artist's ascension into the zeitgeist. And for me, that's always felt rather artificial, even when the narrative is genuine. But every once in a while, a project comes along that takes on a life of its own. And I can say without a doubt that the growth of Pale Jay's reach since we first started working with him has little to do with conjured narratives or clever marketing, but more to do with how the music makes the listener feel. It's that simple. In fact, Jay is so enigmatic and without a narrative that the mere absence of a story has become the story. Who is he? Where is he from? What's next? Some questions are better left unanswered in my opinion, my friend. Including the question, "Why does this music make me feel so much?" You're better off just sitting back, disconnecting, and letting Low End Love Songs by Pale Jay wrap you up. Enjoy and spread the good word. - Terry Cole
"Low End Love Songs", more so than previous releases, is a diary in form of song. I knew I just had to wait for the songs to be ready to be picked, like ripe fruit from a tree. Each tune encapsulates a distinct moment in my life, with music serving as my means of processing complex and sometimes conflicting emotions. In this album, I depart from loop-based song structures towards more intricate and lush compositions. Latin influences permeate the music, adding new layers of rhythms and textures to my soul-music roots. - Pale Jay
Admittedly, I'm not a great salesperson when it comes to running our little label. I do my best not to give into hyperbole or build something up too intensely if someone has not heard a new artist yet. I prefer to simply present the music and let the listener decide how they feel about it. However, we live in an age when the "story" put together by publicists, labels, and managers are often the driving force of an artist's ascension into the zeitgeist. And for me, that's always felt rather artificial, even when the narrative is genuine. But every once in a while, a project comes along that takes on a life of its own. And I can say without a doubt that the growth of Pale Jay's reach since we first started working with him has little to do with conjured narratives or clever marketing, but more to do with how the music makes the listener feel. It's that simple. In fact, Jay is so enigmatic and without a narrative that the mere absence of a story has become the story. Who is he? Where is he from? What's next? Some questions are better left unanswered in my opinion, my friend. Including the question, "Why does this music make me feel so much?" You're better off just sitting back, disconnecting, and letting Low End Love Songs by Pale Jay wrap you up. Enjoy and spread the good word. - Terry Cole
"Low End Love Songs", more so than previous releases, is a diary in form of song. I knew I just had to wait for the songs to be ready to be picked, like ripe fruit from a tree. Each tune encapsulates a distinct moment in my life, with music serving as my means of processing complex and sometimes conflicting emotions. In this album, I depart from loop-based song structures towards more intricate and lush compositions. Latin influences permeate the music, adding new layers of rhythms and textures to my soul-music roots. - Pale Jay
The Circus is a place of lights and colors, but also of shadows, even darkness. Admittedly, it delights children and makes adults laugh. But you only need one rainy autumn evening near a circus tent and the smell of fodder to think of the sadness of the clowns, the endless training of the animals and the freaks who are hidden in some caravan... cinema, the essence of the circus – movement, light, danger and burlesque – will have been admirably rendered in Notes on the circus by Jonas Mekas (1966), one of the inventors of the filmed diary. With Cirque, Michèle Bokanowski does similar work, entirely dedicated to spinning, in the musical field.
She distinguished herself in particular in the composition of musique concrète, among others Tabou and Trois chambres d'inquiétudes, after having studied with Pierre Schaeffer and Éliane Radigue. The latter, great lady of drone and minimalism, fell under the spell of Cirque and wrote the booklet for the piece as a poem.
The piece, divided into five movements, is based on the handling and editing of recordings captured within one or more circuses (this is not specified and is of no importance) between 1988 and 1993. The initial allegro reveals the gallop of a horse joined gradually by other images. The idea of the circular space of the circus tent is immediatly and magnificently rendered and will be constantly recalled by an insistent use of the loop technique. Children's laughter, applause and drum rolls are thus sheared, repeated before being brutally interrupted. Accordion interludes and the distortion of sounds create a dreamlike atmosphere. This beautiful nightmare reminds us, to quote Éliane Radigue, the "Magic of childhood still living in the heart of man even beyond its abrupt end."
Words by Alexandre Galand, from the book “Field Recording – L’usage sonore du monde en 100 albums” (ed. Le mot et le reste, 2012)
Major member of the french musique concrète scene, Michèle Bokanowski was born on August 9, 1943 in Cannes, FR, to a musician mother and a writer father. She now lives and works in Paris.
Music lover since adolescence, it was relatively late, at the age of 22, that Michèle Bokanowski decided to study composition. Reading In Search of a Concrete Music by Pierre Schaeffer was decisive. After classical training on harmony, she met Michel Puig, a student of René Leibowitz, who taught her writing and analysis based on the Treatise of Schönberg. In September 1970 she began a two-year internship in the ORTF Research Department under the direction of Pierre Schaeffer. She takes part in the same time in a research group on sound synthesis, studies musical computing at the Faculty of Vincennes and electronic music with Éliane Radigue.
Her main works are intended for concert: Pour un pianiste, Trois chambres d’inquiétude, Tabou, Phone Variations, Cirque, L’étoile Absinthe, Chant d’Ombre, Enfance, Rhapsodia, Cadence, Elsewhere. She has also composed for theater (with Catherine Dasté), dance (with choreographers Hideyuki Yano, Marceline Lartigue, Bernardo Montet) and cinema: music for the short films of Patrick Bokanowski and his two feature films L'Ange ( 1982) and A Solar Dream (2016).
Minor Science—aka UK-born, Berlin-based musician Angus Finlayson—makes his Balmat debut with Absent Friends Vol. III, the third installment in a shape-shifting series across a variety of formats and platforms. And with it, he pushes forward his vision of ambient music as neither static vista or merely mood-setting atmosphere, but rather a dynamic matrix of textures, sensations, and even rhythms.
The first two Absent Friends—a 2014 set for Blowing Up the Workshop, and a 2017 cassette and web player for Whities (now AD93)—were hybrid affairs, part DJ mix and part collage, mostly featuring music made by other people. Then, in 2020-21, Finlayson developed the project into a live show of his own material. Armed with hundreds of bespoke stems created in his studio—idiosyncratic FX chains, feedback loops through cheap rack gear, heavily post-processed field recordings, found voices, etc.—he would improvise on four CDJs, mixer, FX, and live synths, extending techniques he learned as a club DJ into a live context, accompanied by visuals by Stockholm-based artist Paul Witherden.
Absent Friends Vol. III is an album of studio versions of the music developed for the live show. But in Minor Science’s world, even a category as simple as “studio versions” is slightly opaque. “Most of these tracks weren’t ‘composed’ in the studio,” Finlayson explains: “The sounds started out as stems and source material for the live show, and might not have been intended to go together—but then through performance, they settled into shapes that worked. I then recreated those performances in the studio.” That organic process of ideation and realization might help explain the unusual coherence of the album, in which sounds and textures flow seamlessly from one to the next, sometimes seeming to stand still, and sometimes looping back. There are virtually no melodies, few recognizable motifs or riffs, yet the eight-track album nevertheless moves with a distinctive logic and a determined sense of purpose, from the frozen-in-time shimmer of the opening “Introduction” through the early cuts’ studies of space and light; from the seemingly autobiographical “Summer Diary” through the rushing trance (yes, trance) arpeggios of “Contingency” and on to the dulcet denouement of the closing “Gather Your Party (Dispersed Mix).”
Charbel Haber is Lebanese musician, performer, visual artist and composer from Beirut. His work has seen him collaborate with artists from a wide range of disciplines - film, video art, visual art, theatre, dance - both in Lebanon and abroad.
As a solo artist and as a member of post-punk band Scrambled Eggs, he has composed music for directors Khalil Joreige and Joana Hadjithomas, Ghassan Salhab, Mohamad Malas, video artists Lamia Joreige and Akram Zaatari, Maqamat dance company and playwrights Rabih Mroueh and Lina Saneh, to name but a few. His prolific and collaborative career includes free improv group Johnny Kafta Anti-Vegetarian Orchestra, psychedelic Arabic music ensembles Malayeen and Orchestra Omar, cold wave band The Bunny Tylers and minimal ambient duo Good Luck In Death. He is the founder of Those Kids Must Choke and co-founder of Johnny Kafta's Kids Menu - two experimental record labels - and he has recorded and collaborated with notable artists from the fields of free rock and improv such as Oiseaux-Tempête, Radwan Moumneh, Tarek Atoui, Jean Francois Pauvros, The Ex, Michael Zerang, Mats Gustafson, Eddie Prevost, Xavier Charles and Tony Buck.
And once again, here I am telling you to go look for the truth and its beauty in the words of dead poets, in the little tales of ravaged cities, in aborted dreams, in the melancholy of the ruins of tomorrow, in meaningless plastic totems, in the enigmatic end of restless fools.
I'll be here long after you all disappear.
These are the first and last sentences from Charbel Haber's latest offering, A Common Misunderstanding of the Speed of Light: a multi-media musing on the chronic and the chronological, the subversive nature of time. This combination of a record and book observes the slow passing of life and the illusion of retrogradation in his every day. Simply by documenting - via image, text and tune - Haber assigns value to everything that is cast in amber by this project. There's an acceptance and appreciation of the destitution he witnesses, it is an homage given in overlapping forms.
ACMOTSOL has two parts. The book, hardcover in an embossed orange, features photographs and texts taken from Haber's personal digital diary spanning from 2020 to the start of 2022. Broken into six chapters - named for the six tracks on the record - the entries are an artist's log of sorts during a peculiar period of global hyper stagnation and navigating the aftermath of the Beirut explosions. The 96 pages highlight Haber's interest in decay, negative space and the temporality of the human condition. Instead of presenting the images and texts as they were originally paired online, they're reordered and recontextualized in the book. New connections are formed, as tenuous and fleeting as the content they surround. The images interrupt the texts in many instances, forcing pauses and inviting distraction.
At the center of the book is a sudden burst of orange pages, with stylized pluckings of the text framing a QR-code that grants access to the record. With the brilliant orange covers and matching innards, pregnant with the music at the core, it's almost as if these central pages act as a way to turn the book inside out. There, the book's purpose is altered, fixated on a mirror image of itself. It forms a self-completing arc for the project, a loop.
ACMOTSO's second half is that mirrored album. Six tracks totalling just under 52 minutes. The music could be a continuation of his solo albums Of Palm Trees and Decompositions (2016) and It Ended Up Being a Good Day Mr. Allende (2012), an exploration into the expansiveness of seemingly simple loops of a lilting guitar. Careful electronic effects add dimensions or reground the listener. There's a swelling of sound, the illusion of the push of space before it retracts back into itself or fades into the distance. Much like the images and texts the music complements, the songs challenge the purity of cycles. Endings are beginnings, beginnings are endings or is everything just the middle? Haber is quietly and elegantly grappling with the troublesome act of place-making. In music, in words and in visual storytelling.
ACMOTSOL is a work that can be calming or disorienting, depending on what is requested of it. Similar to the way loops and cycles can signify both meditation and mania. The tendrils of Haber's past - his home of Beirut, fictional and real characters encountered, authors read, films watched, composers listened, walks taken - knit themselves together for a presentation of our immediate present. An evidence of a happening. A considered project of time.
All photographs, texts and music by Charbel Haber. Album mixed by Radwan Ghazi Moumneh. Design by Maziyar Pahlevan. Printed by Albe De Coker in Belgium.
This dual-part project will be released on XX XXX 2022 on 'Other People.'
Description by Nereya Otieno.
Synth legend Suzanne Ciani, Demdike Stare’s Sean Canty & Finders Keepers’ Andy Votel come together on this killer hour-long 2014 synapse popper of a collaboration pooling the occasional group’s esoteric collage-based approach into a remarkably foreboding session pregnant with a dread that’s never quite resolved. Think Vladimir Ussachevsky, Todd Dockstader, Spectre and Company Flow melted thru the Deutsch-Italo industrial DIY tape era and funneled thru an almost impenetrable fog of Ann Arbor basement noizze.
Hustling some of Neotantrik’s most amorphous gestures, ’241014’ is a four-segment movement of reduced Buchla treatments, destroyed vinyl loops and scraping foley suspense; like a cosmic dream diary layered into a collage of drones and clatters. Little in Ciani’s extensive catalogue has hinted at what’s on display here; the joyful lullaby-pop of “Seven Waves” or metallic alien soundscraping of “Flowers of Evil” are only hinted at. She instead paints new sonic vistas, allowing space for her collaborators to make themselves known; Votel’s chiming toy autoharp and Bubul Tarang (a Punjab string instrument) add a distinctive flavor, while Canty’s grimy drones and noise-soaked textures drizzle pitch-black molasses into the cracks and crevices. Together, the effect is a bit like hearing Philip Jeck improvising over Popol Vuh’s peerless Moog-led debut “Affenstunde” or Demdike Stare knocking out impromptu reworks of Tangerine Dream’s abstrakt early run.
Perhaps unusually, the trio have still never set foot in a studio together, exclusively maintaining their practice in-the-moment and on stage when schedules intersect. So it’s all the more remarkable that their improvisations naturally find a democracy of role and such a heightened level of intuition, beautifully converging their thoughts to mutual, open-ended conclusions that leaves billowing room for interpretation. In a most classic sense, it’s like the sensation of sleep paralysis or dream/nightmare ambiguity, with a level of suggestiveness that’s disorienting from end to end.
For the first time the recordings are now available in high fidelity (there was a tape version a couple of years back) - now remastered by Rashad Becker to better represent the otherworldly scope of their actions on stage, from the NWW-like queues and drone of ‘Scanned Accents’ and keening silhouette of ‘Second Action,’ to new sections of subaquatic Porter Ricks-like murk in ‘Anti-Contraction’ and the levitating webs of synth and tactile, sampled textures in ‘Last Canción.’ Tape music and synth music have long shared a passionate embrace, and here turntablism coolly slides in on the action. Canty and Votel’s background in beat tape assembly and crate digging pays off: they’re keenly experimental creators but bring an unfussy sense of rhythm and performance that’s miles beyond any facile repetition of a nostalgia for vintage glory. Combined with Ciani’s delicate Buchla work - it’s a unique proposition.
Klein's offbeat singular vision continues to defy classification. Her acclaimed, self-released records – Lagata, Only and CC – along with Tommy for Hyperdub and her theatre musical Care, have allowed glimpses into Klein's uniquely spirally perspective on vocal abstraction, disarming experimentalism and pop culture wonderment. Yet these chapters have also served as masks to conceal the artist's own personal crises of self-belief, misrepresentation and belonging.
An 18-month writing process led to her new album Lifetime. It's an unexpectedly literal body of work which Klein compares to "giving someone your diary." Lifetime embraces the inevitable cycles of existence, phasing through moments of brutality, vulnerability, estrangement and unexpected fortitude. Lifetime embraces the inevitable cycles of existence, phasing through moments of brutality, vulnerability, estrangement and unexpected fortitude. Every sound in Lifetime is intentional, every influence—from 'King of Gospel Music' composer James Cleveland, to early 18th century tonalities in the b side, the work of 'race film' pioneer Spencer Williams, the residue of the religious experience is deeply personal. The 12 songs of the album are pieced together like a puzzle; seamless transitions connect each of its compositions in a reverse chronology, while every chord from every song is echoed someplace else.
What's been hinted at in Klein's live performances is now realised in full for Lifetime. Less vocal work allows her to be even more expressive, and in eschewing a tendency towards brief, truncated sketches, each song serves as its own long conversational piece, committed to realities of a lived experience. The artist who once grappled with self-doubt has set about breaking the cycle of insecurity for others like her, while mindfully chipping away at the conventions of classical music.
Like its artwork, Lifetime addresses intersecting life cycles: the inner and outer selves, hypermodernity versus history, living nightmares and dream states, while seeking the light and darkness in both. Part 1 opens with unmistakable Klein flourishes on the title track. Gusty pads, anxious, frayed-edge static arcs, and craters of deep negative space, all of which melt down to the clean slate of "Claim It," which is a tribute to embracing one's own blessings. "Listen And See As They Take" and "Silent" form their own microcosm, as the sound of crackling kindling burns backwards into imposing structures of distorted strings and disembodied marching drums, before returning to heat and ash again. "For What Worth", in collaboration with sound artist and saxophonist Matana Roberts, explores the kinship between two artists whose shared exploration of lineage leads them both toward uncharacteristically sweet clarity.
Part 2 is further steeped in black expressive styles of the past. "Enough is enough" links the Lifetime narrative to the broader diasporic black experience, inhabiting every chamber of a harmonica with ghostly notes of the present and past, as fragmented gospel chords reflect spiritual bonds between self and the divine. "We Are Almost There" begins the journey with nothing but the looped structures of multitude of voices. The drums and dischord of "Never Will I Disobey" wordlessly create the conditions for "Honour," a near 10-minute composition where crossed boundaries and crossed wires are exposed in real time, and sharp expressions of hurtfulness, accountability and corrupted expectations are rendered beautiful in representational form, via sustained synth tones which hum, jab and flit in natural disharmony. The interlude "Camelot Is Coming" draws on the choir tradition to prelude the spoken word recounts the cycles of trauma and death that form "99." Lifetime closes with the dystopian swirl of "Protect My Blood" a composition which details an excruciating rift, before blooming into serenity as it draws to a close.
Klein's Lifetime is laid bare, from the end to the beginning, and cycled over again. From her place within her family, to their place within her, to viewing the fragility of culture through the lens of memory. It's a lifetime, an embodiment of young livelihood, and an end as much it is a beginning.
Juan Ramos opens his debut album with The Problem With Ambiguity and Finding Space—speaking to a societal confusion, a fragmented sense of self, and a pull toward many (often unwelcoming) directions—this turmoil in which he’s spent considerable time, sees him invest grave efforts to express the inexpressible. Changing Hands is a time capsule of that dark period in his life, an overtly honest musical diary which puts his emotional coming-of-age on full display, hoping to reach kindred listeners. While his previous output for the ESP Institute used a certain level of complication to push limits on the dancefloor, this immersive work cuts deep in to a frayed psyche, dismantling our preconceptions of Juan and plunging listeners deep into a stew of jarring textures, incomplete phrases, and circus-like abstractions of pop culture. There is a nonchalant and unhurried experimentation that accumulates over the album’s first half—disconnected and anxiety-riddled personality traits constitute various musical roles, sporadically converging in fleeting moments of optimism although never fully climbing out from the abyss—and yet amidst this chaos there is a watershed moment in which the artist successfully gleans a golden morsel of hope from his emotional junkyard, guiding us across the threshold into the album’s second half while diligently protecting the glow of this rock bottom treasure. Juan begins to reveal his inner b-boy—a distorted view on golden-age Hip Hop roots, an affinity for muddy break-beats, sultry loops and metaphoric interludes—the crown prince of a newly-found safe space. It’s as if he had us searching on all fours for a misplaced joint, but now that it’s finally lit, he assures us that everything’s going to be alright.
Into the Light is launching a parallel and limited series with contemporary material from both Greek and international artists. First stop is the album 'Postclub Prism' by the German producer Cass. offering ten gorgeous ambient pieces about light and romance.
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Since 2012, Niklas Rehme-Schlüter aka Cass. has released albums of varying styles, from the rather organic and loop based ambient pieces on 'Loops & Farewell Sketches' and the 'Red Atlantic' EP on Throne of Blood in 2017, influenced by 80's pop sonics, to the more balearic and percussive recordings on 'The Sound of Glades' together with Wolf Müller in 2016. On his new record 'Postclub Prism' Cass. explores his affinity to calm and atmospheric ambient music at the threshold to the reverberant sound of club music.
