Suche:lost in translation

M-high completes the catalog of the rutilance label with an EP composed by 4 tracks cut for the dancefloor. A remix by the talented Paolo Rocco completes this 27th opus.

Soundtrack to the 2003 Academy Award nominated film. Features songs by My Bloody Valentine, Air, and The Jesus and Mary Chain. On Rolling Stone’ s Greatest Soundtracks of All Time list.

There’s no direct English translation for the word “hiraeth”. In the Welsh language, it describes a form of longing for an intangible something, somewhere or someone that no longer exists. Sofie Birch and Antonina Nowacka draw on the concept to guide their second collaborative album, a suite of vulnerable, open-hearted improvisations and reflections that attempt to grasp an image of the past that’s chimeric, dissolving almost as soon as it materializes. The duo’s process follows the same distant beacon; unlike Languoria, their critically acclaimed debut, Hiraeth is, at heart, an acoustic record, informed by in-person improvisations with voices and string instruments that gesture to an era before computers, AI and DAWs. It’s just as lush, but Hiraeth is warmer and more muted than its predecessor.
Nowacka and Birch conceived the album in the wake of a slew of collaborative live concerts, spurred on by serendipitous improvisations and an interest in paring down their setup. Unsound arranged a retreat in Sokołowsko, an idyllic village nestled in the verdant hills of Southern Poland, close to the Czech border. Sokołowsko surrounds a large ruined sanatorium that’s rumored to have inspired Thomas Mann’s 1924 novel The Magic Mountain, and has long been a magnet for artists. The two took the opportunity to rethink their approach completely, arriving with just a guitar, a zither and a portable Nagra reel-to-reel machine. Recording directly to tape, they sketched out ideas with just their voices and instruments, reflecting their surroundings without being distracted or mediated by modern technology.
“We wanted to get away from screens as much as possible,” says Birch, “to bring to the world something vulnerable and honest. Without advance preparation, every day we went out into the open air, finding places to sit, during sunset or the midday sun. We discovered new tunings on our instruments, picked up a melody, and started the machine, playing over
and over till we got a take.” In the autumn, they met again in a Copenhagen studio, sparingly and carefully layering old synths and organs to add more depth without muddying the mix.
Both Nowacka and Birch sing throughout, their voices threading the acoustic instruments and tangling with each other, almost becoming one. But it’s the environment of Sokołowsko, “the birds and the light, even the wind playing against the harps,” that’s woven into the music’s lining. Affected by time spent meditating and in nature, as well as the fact that Birch was pregnant whilst recording, the album feels alive and remarkably present. Even the sound quality of the tape machine gives Hiraeth a tactile, organic quality, as Nowacka puts it, “like being in a warm bath.”

They still have the raw recordings from Sokołowsko on old reels, physical souvenirs of their time spent making music in a “habitat for intuitive songs, a little ecosystem, alive and spirited.” The outmoded gear and remote setting helped the duo disengage from the modern world for a few moments and imagine an existence that’s been lost to time and nominal progress. With digital technology receding into the background, Nowacka and Birch had space to make “intuitive connections with frequencies and people,” as Birch explains. Hiraeth is a testament not to nostalgia, but to the power of kinship.

For his sixth solo album, Ezéchiel Pailhès returns with a new collection of songs infused by a sunny wandering spirit.
Within each of the twelve songs on SOL is a thread of melancholic happiness that has permeated much of Pailhès’ music and songwriting. He addresses love, the passing of time, hope, lost illusions, fleeting moments of grace, the temptation of forgetting, a need to escape, and desire. All this is
insulated by understated orchestrations that blend acoustic and electronic instrumentation with deft confidence.
The Portuguese and Brazilian concept of saudade—a form of melancholic longing and nostalgia— pervades, thanks in part to Pailhès decision to record the album in Rio de Janiero and to reinterpret some of the finest works of Música Popular Brasileira (MPB). In particular, he revisits a handful of
lesser known classics from the mid-century samba and bossa nova era—originally written or performed by talents including Vinícius de Moraes, João Gilberto, Tom Zé, Dorival Caymmi, João Donato, Os Tincoãs, and Ataulfo Alves.
The shift from Brazilian Portuguese to French and the decision to adapt rather than perform a straightforward cover versions, allows Pailhès to invent a form of prosody and euphony (the musicality and harmonious combination of words) that feels vibrant and unlike anything else in today’s French
chanson landscape.
“Some lyrics are simple translations from Portuguese, in what I’d call an expanded version. For others, I started from a single word or a single phrase and embroidered an entirely new text that carried me elsewhere,” explains Pailhès. “I allowed myself great interpretive freedom, while preserving the humanist dimension of the original songs. I’ve always been deeply moved by the way Brazilians transfigure reality through heightened emotion. I love this visceral and spontaneous country, which always seems to live through emotion. And above all, I love its music both popular and unifying,
bringing together all social classes. In that sense, it’s very political music, but even more so utopian, made by the people and for the people.”
On this new album, however, the French artist was keen to avoid cliché. Each song is therefore built around a carefully balanced interplay between Pailhès’ piano and synthesizers, alongside restrained arrangements of percussion, brass, bass, and cavaquinho (a small four-string plucked guitar). These parts were recorded in Rio de Janeiro with two musicians who regularly perform alongside the legendary Caetano Veloso—Kainã Do Jêje and Alberto Continentino—joined by Thomas Harres, Antônio Neves, Eduardo Neves, and Gabriel Loddo.
Since the 1960s, France and Brazil have shared a long-standing cultural and musical relationship. Some Brazilian artists, most famously Gilberto Gil, took refuge in France during the dictatorship years (1964–1985). But above all, French chanson quickly fell in love with the richness and ingenuity of
bossa nova and samba, translating and reinventing them in the language of Molière. Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, albums and hits by Henri Salvador, Georges Moustaki, Pierre Barouh, Pierre Vassiliu, and Claude Nougaro all drew from the MPB repertoire.
Fifty years later, with SOL, Ezéchiel Pailhès reinvents this rich Franco-Brazilian musical legacy, bringing to it a personality and modernity that stand confidently alongside those of his forbears.

VHF debut and second widely-available LP by Liam, part of a new generation of underground “American primitive” guitar players serving the traditions and smashing them up simultaneously. Prodigal Son is a portrait of an artist on the road, changing fast, recording things as they spring from the fountain. The sound here is raw – grass and dirt instead of pre-fab; homemade/handmade instead of high-tech, etc. There’s a visceral quality and immediacy of culture that’s being lost every day in modern life – Prodigal Son is a chance to grab some of it back. “Palmyra” has Liam on weissenborn-style lap steel, the sound fuzzed out and distorted by the guerilla recording technique. “Salmon Tails Up The River” stretches out to nearly 13 minutes, a dense meditation on 12 string that sustains a dark and heavy mood for the entire duration. On the B side, “Insult to Injury” reverses the mood, with an elegant and unhurried 12 string sequel of deep beauty. Liam’s unexpected take on Loren Conners’ “A Moment at the Door” is a perfect translation of Loren’s reverb-heavy electric drift to unadorned acoustic (and tape hiss) – a frozen moment of absolute grace. Wrapping things up is a take on “Old Country Rock,” with fiddle and banjo, just a brief taste of the barnstorming old-time sound of Liam’s touring trio.

2025 Repress

"Are You in Heaven?" was famously shouted by Roxy DJ Eddy de Clercq to the crowd at one of the very first legendary house parties in Amsterdam. This phrase not only symbolizes an iconic moment that captured the spirit of the era—it’s also the title of one of the three tracks featured here.

In 1991, inspired by the dance music craze that swept across Europe at the time, Arnoud Winkler and Jochem Peteri (who would later become the one-man supergroup Newworldaquarium) produced music that is equal parts euphoric, emotive, vital, and vibrant—youthful in spirit, naive yet clever. A European translation of a US-American art form, born from pure enthusiasm and concentrated passion for a culture that, to this day, continues to resonate universally.
Originally released on Lower East Side Records, the story told here is full of rave symbolism, after-party joy, and literal can-you-feel-it moments: rattling sub-bass, blissful pads, whispering voices, dub techniques, and subconscious peak-time signals.
Complemented by a new edit of Ulysses Horizon by Gerd Janson (alongside a revised version of the original), alongside Flowerdale Beach, and Are You in Heaven?, the music here hasn’t lost a single inch of its charm or allure. A taste of Dutch house deluxe.

Ain’t no stopping him now. Krystal Klear’s streak continues with Automat Kingsland. The recipe remains, perfectly seasoned to taste. The extended menu of four tracks is musical testament to the artist’s life of the last six months. Emphasizing movement at a pace that is hard to hold on to, but embraced nonetheless. Trying to transport that „lost in translation“ (and transit) sense of normal life due to constant motion to a dance floor near you. Euphoric melancholia meets rave romance, shutters open to let happiness crawl in and anxiety turns into excitement through the usual cocktail of tearjerkers and white noise risers. Recorded between Paris, New York, Dublin and London and brought to your city via Running Back. Automatic non stop existential output.

Quadeca got his start on YouTube around ten years ago, posting mostly hip-hop freestyles, mixtapes and more, building a steady following through the years. His 2022 record, I Didn't Mean To Haunt You, was his first major departure from hip-hop, containing folktronica, indie rock, shoegaze and many more genre elements.

DINTE issues another cassette-only mixtape taking in Soviet punk selections, 1985 to 1992, issued in partnership with Philadelphia's World Gone Mad.

Absolute fire this, a mixtape survey of punk, no wave and all sorts of angular post-punk fantasies from the USSR, 1985-1992.

You can go whistle for a tracklist for this one, but trust that it’s all top grade, shot from the hip, frazzled, growling and assymetric as fuck, from stomping jangle to more light-footed, motorilk post-punk to some lost-in-translation Casio dub bubblers and into more bleak gothic realms - and not a dud in sight.

Issued in partnership with Philadelphia's World Gone Mad.

FOLLOW UP TO THE CRITICALLY ACCLAIMED 2023 ALBUM ‘RPB’ (UTR151):

- #4 MOJO FOLK ALBUMS OF THE YEAR+ FOLK ALBUM OF THE MONTH:
“ IT MELTS TRAD TECHNIQUES AND MINECRAFT BURBLE INTO ‘A MASSIVE, MULTI-PLAYER ONLINE DREAM’ . INCOMPREHENSIBLE/IRRESISTIBLE’

‘ME LOST ME’S RPG (UPSET THE RHYTHM) IS AN EXCITING, IMAGINATIVE ALBUM EXPLORING THE LINKS BETWEEN TRADITIONAL INFLUENCES AND ELECTRONICS IN FERTILE WAYS.’ THE GUARDIAN - FOLK ALBUMS OF THE MONTH.

'FROM NEWCASTLE, VIA UPSET THE RHYTHM, JAYNE DENT EXPLORES FOLK ART AND FUTURISM TO SPELLBINDING EFFECT' THE QUIETUS

FULL PAGE REVIEW IN WIRE MAGAZINE:"ME LOST ME'S NEW ALBUM RPG IS FILLED WITH STORIES OF ADVENTURE AND SELF-DISCOVERY IN VERDANT NATURAL LANDSCAPES, SUNG WITH FEELING AND CLARITY"

Me Lost Me - the project of Newcastle-based artist Jayne Dent - delights in experimenting with songwriting, creating a beguiling mix of soaring vocals and atmospheric electronics that playfully push the boundaries of genre.

On Me Lost Me’s fourth full-length, This Material Moment - arriving on Upset the Rhythm on 27th June - she has created an “emotionally raw” album, her most honest and vulnerable yet.

Concerned with physicality, interpretations, and, yes, materiality, This Material Moment is an album akin to rummaging through a box of long-forgotten trinkets. With each song, Me Lost Me extracts something from the box and asks us to consider it from every angle. "This is an album which uses words as a material, a playful tool for experimentation, full of metaphor, abstraction and analogies.” Jayne says, “it has softness and anger, humour, hope and despair, intensity of feeling in all directions expressed as textures, objects, places."

With the release of This Material Moment Me Lost Me puts into practice the automatic writing techniques she developed during a workshop with Julia Holter, and in the process has spun her music in different directions that draws on poetry, psalms and using mesostic poems and phonetic translations to generate words. “Despite the chance-based writing strategies throughout, it feels like the most emotionally raw album I've ever made,” she says, likening the process to a Rorschah test which revealed things to her she wasn’t expecting to express. “I wanted to hide in stories, but I saw things plainly when I tried to write.” Having finished the writing process, Jayne realised that she had an unexpectedly personal album on her hands, into which her feelings of burnout and overwhelm had crept unconsciously. “Several of the songs for me express a kind of inner conflict, where you’re trying to keep hope and desire and beauty and art near to your heart, to live a meaningful life, but finding that increasingly hard to hold onto in a world that’s so fucked up.”

Whilst Jayne Dent’s music as Me Lost Me has previously presented time stretching back and forwards in opposition (noticeably on 2023’s album RPG), on This Material Moment she does away with linearity altogether, evoking rather than narrating, and presenting feelings, happenings and moods with no clear beginning or end point - “like experiencing a vista, trying to capture a moment that is unfolding all at once”. Instead, each track on This Material Moment exists entirely in media res, adjacent to past and future, and instead sprawling across the endless now.

This Material Moment was written and arranged solo, but played with a core band of John Pope on electric/double bass, Faye MacCalman on clarinet, and now with the addition of Ewan Mackenzie (Dextro/Pigs x7) on drums - bringing in live drums and electric bass for the first time. The album was recorded by Sam Grant at Blank Studios in Newcastle, who also worked on RPG.

"Amazing! Like stumbling on a treasure-trove of unheard Charlie Patton and Blind Willie McTell 78s, but imbued with the spirit of Mahlathini and Ladysmith." Joe Boyd

'But for this compilation of rescued songs masterfully restored from rare 78 rpm shellacs, few could imagine the diversely beautiful roots of Zulu Guitar Music emerging during the period 1950 – 1965. Story-tellers and master musicians appropriate outlaw personae, re-purpose country and western, Hawaiian and other styles, to stretch and challenge our notion of “the Zulu guitar”.

Twenty-five songs (18 on vinyl) plunge us into the depths of the migrant experience. Translations in the liner notes offer us glimpses of pugnacity, melancholy and heartache, all coloured by the paternalism that circumscribed the singers’ apartheid-dominated lives.

The early *mbaqanga* undertow in many of the songs subverts the wanderlust of Country and Western music into a fugitivity burdened by nostalgia. Something irretrievable has been lost, prompting a blending of ideas and cultures to make sense through thankless acts of musical divination. Inadvertently they have been thrust into the role of the antihero, where outwitting competition for lovers is as important as evading the Black Jacks (apartheid’s municipal cops) and their informants.

Considering the politically repressive period that this music emerges from, we can surmise that the specificity in the storytelling went a long way towards evading censure. But even when words are absent, there is a narrative arc suggested by the musical expression.

With most of the master tapes wilfully destroyed or lost, modern transcription and restoration techniques from the original shellac discs present the original sound most likely more clearly than ever heard before.'

Produced for reissue by Chris Albertyn and Matt Temple at Matsuli Music and Siemon Allen at Flatinternational.
Artwork design by Siemon Allen.
Liner note and translations by Kwanele Sosibo.
Audio restoration and lacquers by Frank Merritt at The Carvery and pressed at Pallas, Germany.
Original 78rpm recordings sourced from the collections of Chris Albertyn at Matsuli Music, and Siemon Allen at the Flatinternational Archive.

Florilegium, the debut album from songwriter Uwade, winds through genre, through death, break-ups, friendship, and failure. Here, she wanted to honor as much of herself as she could — her family and Nigerian heritage, her scholarly tendencies, her background in choirs, the literature that moves her, the melodies of artists like Fela Kuti, Yebba, and Julian Casablancas of the Strokes, who inspired her to start writing songs at the inception of her music-making. Cerebral and curious, each musical moment feels tactile, deliberate, and thoughtful — but also fresh, like something just discovered. A shimmering anthology that finds sweetness and light in sorrow, an amalgamation of disparate influences and recording sessions seamlessly fitting together through her expressive, expansive voice.

A stellar collaboration between composer Michael Cashmore (Current 93) and vocalist Marc Almond of Soft Cell fame. Two complementary creative sensibilities in intimate interlock; supreme compositional and vocal talents fusing to make uniquely dramatic musical and vocal interpretations of searing beauty and insight. Specifically, this suite of songs feature the heightened lyricism of a stunning array of cult poets, both contemporary and of yesteryear. 'Feasting With Panthers' is a stellar collaboration between composer Michael Cashmore (Current 93) and vocalist Marc Almond of Soft Cell fame, in the nearest thematic echo and nod, in the latter's vast back catalogue, to the darker gothic influences of his celebrated Marc And The Mambas period and his acclaimed 'L'Absinthe' and 'Jacques' twisted chanson solo albums. This album's defining aesthetic is the setting of outsider poems to music. Poems by Count Eric Stenbock plus unique lyrical translations - by celebrated poet Jeremy Reed - of works by Jean Genet, Jean Cocteau, Arthur Rimbaud, Paul Verlaine, as well as Reed's own poetry. The emphasis throughout is on 'decadent' poems of thwarted love, ill-fated romance, self-destruction and death: many poems are woven with homo-eroticism, laced with opium dreamstates and all are accompanied by Michael Cashmore's haunting and melancholic music that lends the verses a deft yearning for beauty and a bittersweet, melancholic longing for lost innocence and youth. Originally released in 2011 and long since deleted, 'Feasting With Panthers' is now restored to back catalogue availability as a double vinyl album - it's first ever vinyl edition - with a variant of the original album artwork and two printed, full colour inner sleeves complete with lyrics and pictures and featuring four bonus tracks. The album was recorded over several years by the artists sending music files back and forth by e-mail and post; the artists never once recording together in the studio. Berlin based Michael Cashmore worked at home composing the music, playing all of the instruments and adding Marc's vocals from files recorded in London. The resulting album is a glorious union of sensual talents, both in voice and music, complementing the intriguing and evocative poetic texts. The project began after Current 93's David Tibet gave Marc a book of poems by the Baltic German poet Count Stanislaus Eric Stenbock. Marc was instantly attracted to the dark eroticism and the melancholic yearning of the verse and, so, contacted Michael Cashmore, whom he had previously worked with on Current 93's reading of 'Idumea'. He felt Michael would have the right understanding of the verse with his intricate, beautiful musical compositions. From this, the project developed to include many of Marc's favourite poems by some of his favourite 'outsider' poets with common thematic ground.

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

Less than a year after Botanical Illustration takes patience and Skill EP, Giovanni Natalini aka CO-PILOT, comes back on Simona Faraone’s label, New Interplanetary Melodies, with the Green Machine album, which is its natural prosecution: inside it we also find the three tracks previously published by the same label in audio cassette format only (NIM001- MC).

Green Machine is a concept album, which takes up and develops the ecological issues already treated by the artist in his previous work, namely the increasingly tricky dichotomy between nature and machine and the harmful impact of humans on it.

The A side opens with the already published Botanical Illustration takes patience and Skill (A1), an 8 minutes suite in which the powerful Live drum breaks are perfectly combined with synths and vocal samples, transporting us to the tops of exotic mountains, to continue with the ecstatic Himawari (A2) that sounds like a “desert session” made on Mount Fuji, for a result of pure musical mysticism and finally, Mother Love Nature pt.1 (A3), a track that takes us back to more familiar territories, winking at the most experimental British trip hop of recent memory and Mother Love Nature pt.2 (A4) characterized by a background of modular synths and nature sounds effects that precede Giovanni’s powerful drums, underlining once again this perfect fusion of organic and synthesized sounds.

Side B opens with the psychedelic choruses of Dancing Like Fela (B1) supported by synthetic arpeggios and a frenetic drumline sounds like a breakbeat. Continuing along this side, we come to the unsettling use of vocal samples on the beautiful Halo (B2), the ethereal and danceable art-pop of Lost You - In Translation - (B3) to conclude with the evocative Playing the Zurna in Ulan Bator (B4), a track with a pressing rhythm and elegant arrangements that once again underlines Giovanni Natalini’s mastery in mixing sounds and suggestions that are apparently far away but that always find the right place.

Green Machine sounds like a valid attempt to finally find a “solid” balance between humans and nature, but it also demonstrates how the continuous mixing of sounds is the most effective way to escape from the homologation that is increasingly widespread in contemporary society.

In the age of streaming platforms and social media, stimulation is easy to come by. Real pleasure, however_the kind that feeds our soul rather than draining it_is in shockingly short supply. The second LP by THUS LOVE is full of that kind of nourishing euphoria. It swoons, shakes, and swaggers with a combination of grit and sensuality that's been hard to locate in music lately. It's called, fittingly, All Pleasure. The album came out of a period of dizzying growth and transformation for the group. When they began work on it, vocalist/guitarist Echo Mars and drummer Lu Racine were still reeling from the runaway success of their 2022 debut Memorial_a set of lush, elegant post-punk that brought praise from The FADER, the NME, and the Guardian_along with processing the departure of the founding bassist. With All Pleasure, the band re-formed with new bassist Ally Juleen and guitarist/keyboardist Shane Blank. The group convened in a barn in the woods that Mars had transformed into a recording studio, and kept one rule at the forefront: "If it's not joyful, don't do it." What emerged from that mission is a stunningly gorgeous album, full of big, arcing melodies and a range of kinky stylistic twists that will surprise listeners who know the group just for Memorial's chorus-drenched 80s-style psychedelia. "Birthday Song" gives grungy glam rock with a transcendent hook that underlines Echo's lyrical tribute to communal joy. "Get Stable" transmutes existential panic into sharp-angled punk pop. The anthemic title track is something like the album's mission statement, paying tribute to the power of joyful creation. Mixed by Matthew Hall and Rich Costey and mastered by Bob Weston, All Pleasure was recorded as live as possible, capturing the sheer infectious ecstasy that comes from sharing space together and making a divine racket. Put on All Pleasure, tap into the energy that THUS LOVE is putting out, and you just might find an escape.

“Home” is not always a literal place. Sometimes, “home” represents inner peace and simply learning to hold space for yourself. This is where Vacations lead singer and guitarist Campbell Burns has arrived as he and bandmates Jake Johnson, Nate Delizzotti, and Joseph Van Lier release their third LP, No Place Like Home. “I had this loose concept of No Place Like Home being an Americana-influenced album,” Campbell says of the album’s sonic inspirations. “I wanted to incorporate more pianos, acoustic guitars, Nashville tuning, and country-inspired lap steel, but then also bringing in drum machines and synths and finding a mix between the two.” Produced by Campbell and John Velasquez (Zella Day, Broods), No Place Like Home comprises 10 shimmering tracks brimming with indie-pop hooks and just a touch of bittersweet sensitivity. The new project follows an intense period of transformation for Campbell, who was forced to cancel all touring commitments due to COVID restrictions and subsequently came down with a severe bout of writer’s block. After seeking therapy, he was eventually diagnosed with Pure OCD, a subtype of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. “Pure OCD is more mental compulsions rather than physical compulsions,” Campbell explains. “If I have an intrusive thought, I'm giving that thought belief and power over myself.” As the world began to open up, so did Campbell’s vibrant creative spirit. Vacations hit the road for the first time in two years, selling out The Fonda in LA and playing Austin City Limits Festival in Austin, experiences that partially inform No Place Like Home. First single and album opener “Next Exit” sparkles with danceable synth riffs and Campbell’s aching falsetto, all while setting the overall tone for what’s to come. “‘Next Exit’ is about living in this monotonous cycle,” Campbell reveals. “You realize that you need an out. You need to — metaphorically and literally — take the next exit out in order to break out of that cycle.” The singer mines his Pure OCD diagnosis on the pondering “Over You,” which thematically picks up where “Next Exit” drops off. Campbell remarks on how “it almost has this ownership over my thoughts and actions to the point where I'm stuck in these loops and rituals that are a direct result of having OCD.” On the Americana-inspired “Midwest,” which seamlessly blends pop electronics, drum machine, and ‘80s synth with poignant lap steel tones, the song remarks on the comedic nature of repeatedly entering into romantic relationships prior to going on tour — only to have them fizzle out upon returning. As the band releases No Place Like Home, Campbell is ironically just fine with not putting down physical roots just yet having recently made the move to LA for exploration, expanding “I needed to get overseas if I wanted to keep progressing — from a career standpoint, but also on a personal level.” The greater priority lies within building that sense of comfort within himself. In the meantime, millions of fans around the world are making a permanent home with Vacations.