Suche:ly

Twisted and irreverent, The Rabbits combined ear-splitting guitar shrapnel with one of punk’s greatest-ever snot-nosed vocalists. With hints of PIL or Chrome, but beamed in from a parallel dimension and filtered through the warped lens of visionary loner Syoichi Miyazawa. First-ever vinyl release, fully remastered from the band’s original early ’80s cassette releases, and housed in a sturdy tip-on sleeve. Includes a double-sided, printed insert. Edition of 500

Singer-songwriter Syoichi Miyazawa’s tale is a confounding one.

He grew up in a small town in Yamagata Prefecture (in northern Japan), loved Dylan and The Beatles, and had very little exposure to, or interest in, underground music. And yet, shortly after 24-year-old Miyazawa arrived in Tokyo in 1978, he began performing solo shows at tiny clubs in the city, singing and playing guitar. His performances quicky devolved from brisk acoustic jaunts to lengthy, heavy dirges sung in a snot-nosed wail over a blown-out electric guitar detuned to produce a kind of sonic sludge.

At one of his earliest gigs, a mutual friend introduced him to Endo Michiro, who would soon become the legendary front man of Japanese punk icons The Stalin. It turned out Miyazawa and Endo had attended Yamagata University at the same time just a few years earlier, but hadn’t known each other at school. In Tokyo, they became fast friends, moved into the same apartment building, and for years were inseparable. Endo played guitar and drums on Miyazawa’s debut release, the “Christ Was Born in a Stable” flexi disc. But while Endo was social and outgoing, Miyazawa preferred to be alone, avoiding concerts unless he was performing.

Despite these antisocial tendencies, Miyazawa came to despise playing solo. In 1982, an eccentric high school student named Chika introduced herself at one of Miyazawa’s gigs, and Miyazawa asked if she’d play bass. She agreed and drafted two of her friends to play second guitar and drums. The Rabbits were born.

Miyazawa wrote the tunes, and had a clear vision for the group, but struggled to get the sound he wanted from the other members. His second guitarist was more of a fusion player, and Miyazawa took great pains to get him to tone down the shredding. The group quickly went through multiple line-up changes. Frustrated with the sound of their first proper recording (self-released as the “X1(x)” cassette), Miyazawa spent a full year mixing their second cassette, “Winter Songs,” on his own.

The hard work paid off — the sound of “Winter Songs” is striking, and unlike anything the band’s peers produced. There’s liberal use of delay on the vocals, giving the music a psychedelic feel, but the guitars are caustic, cutting through the mix like metal shrapnel. The rhythm section seems on the verge of teetering out of control throughout, an overdriven and pummeling current below abrasive slabs of guitar and vocals. Even at their most aggressive, though, The Rabbits had strong pop sensibilities, complete with cooing backing vocals and the occasional harmonica solo. Miyazawa delivers his borderline nonsensical lyrics with equal amounts of menace and gaiety, consistently riding that fine line as only a natural oddball can. At times, the band sounds like a distant cousin of PiL, Chrome or The Homosexuals, but beamed in from a parallel dimension and filtered through Miyazawa’s warped lens.

Although The Rabbits briskly sold all 500 copies of the "Winter Songs" tape, live audiences at the time seemed dumbfounded by the group, and would stare at them in silence. After two years together, The Rabbits called it quits in 1984.

When asked if any of the many legendary groups (Les Rallizes Desnudes, G.I.S.M., etc.) he shared stages with left an impression, Miyazawa recently revealed that he always left the venue as soon as he finished performing, so he never caught any of the other bands…

All of which is to say —

The Rabbits are one of the great punk bands of the early ’80s, but their leader had no interest in the punk scene and always thought he was making “normal” music. They rubbed shoulders with a slew of notable groups of the era, and their singer was best friends with arguably the most famous Japanese punk of all time, but Miyazawa shunned fraternization and purposefully distanced himself from his peers.

Could this be why so few underground music fans are familiar with the group, even in Japan? Why they seem to have been written out of the official history of Japanese punk? One can never know for sure, but Mesh-Key hopes to remedy this travesty by offering this compilation, the first-ever official LP by The Rabbits, to a new generation of punk and psychedelic music connoisseurs.
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Toronto’s Dan Lee steps out of the spotlight and into the producer’s chair on the new collaborative Lee Paradise LP, Lee Paradise & Co., due October 28 2022 on Telephone Explosion. Lee Paradise & Co. follows 2020’s critically acclaimed The Fink LP, and finds Lee flipping the shadowy nihilism of the project’s previous releases upward into a sort of cybernetic universality. This is Dan Lee in producer mode, veering away from the pursuit of a singular musical direction rooted in personal vision, towards of a process rich in collaboration, emotional expansion and tonal exploration.

Starting off as a set of mood-focusedinstrumental sketches drafted by Dan on his own, the compositions began coloringthemselves in after he started sending the tracks out to collaborators, asking them to contribute without much in the way of direction or intention. With help from an ensemble cast of artists including Carlyn Bezic (Jane Inc.), Jonathan Pappo (Scott Hardware, No Frills, Ducks Ltd), Scott Hardware, Isla Craig, Victoria Cheong (New Chance), Jay Anderson, Charise Aragoza & Lukas Cheung (Mother Tongues) and Daniel Woodhead (Moon King), nearly every aspect of this album’s creation eventually became open to collaboration, from musical performances, lyric writing, and vocals all the way through to mixing and mastering.

Sonically, the record is still unmistakably Lee Paradise: a widescreen polyrhythmic psychedelia that melts, bubbles, whirrs and klanks; the sound of the human and the machine grooving in accordance towards new futures. The album’s sonic palette is at once synthetic, warm and extraterrestrial. Arpeggiated square wave melodies dance in lockstep with crunching hi-hats, digital bells and chimes fall like crystal rain in stereo above plush pads and gurgling bass figures. Used to finishing the records on his own, Lee mixed this album with Montreal’s Asher Gould-Murtagh and the results are spacious, dusty and dubbed out. “Carnival” sets the scene with it’s stuttering, busted funk groove and ribbons of aqueous vocal harmony from New Chance’s Victoria Cheong. “Raffles”(featuring one of Daniel’s two vocal performances on the record) radiates a mellow optimism in its solar-warped balearic bliss. The album’s final track, “Youngish” is a gliding, melancholic downtempo instrumental thumper saturated in a kaleidoscopic array of lysergic tones. As always, the record anchors itself to the dancefloor with the screwed-down electro of “Cement”, the swinging midnight afterglow of “Leaving” and “CS2X”’s fluttering rave arpeggios.

Lee Paradise & Co. is the sound of an expert producer and sound sculptor conceding to the elusive flows of inspiration, knocking genre conventions askew and hopscotching between a variety of styles, musical identities and sound worlds with absolute panache.

A joint release between Discos Nada & Litoral. One of the first independently released Brazilian records, Alcides Neves’ debut LP ‚Tempo de Fratura’ is reissued for the first time on vinyl, alongside his second release ‚Des (Trambelhar) Ou Não‘.

Hailing from the Brazilian North East, Alcides Neves released his debut album a few years after moving to São Paulo, in 1979. The LP’s release coincided with the emergence of the city’s seminal Vanguarda Paulista movement, which led some researchers to locate Alcides within the movement. As the artist himself affirms; however, he did not fit into any established musical movements, and while it is perhaps possible to identify some influences, it is not possible to consider his music as belonging to a specific lineage either.

Alcides’ singularity and experimental disposition is on full display on his opening album, which revels in its own disformity and lack of external interference, made possible by releasing the LP independently.

The album translates to ‚Time of Fracture‘, a fitting moniker for the context in the final years of the Brazilian military dictatorship. The eleven songs that comprise the album are proof that the album was not named randomly, showcasing a broad range of both experimental and folk influences, while also including lyrics that originally did not get past federal censors.

Carefully remastered by Paulo Torres with updated original artwork, the record is reissued in a gatefold sleeve including a promotional image from the time of release. This LP furthermore includes an insert with a text written by the journalist and researcher Bento Araujo, editor of the bimonthly publication ‚Poeira Zine‘ and author of the ‚Lindo Sonho Delirante‘ series of books.

Ingredient is the elegant collaboration of Toronto poets, composers, producers and dear friends Ian Daniel Kehoe and Luka Kuplowsky. Their self-titled release is an enigmatic electronic avant-pop record attuned to the micro and macro perspectives of the natural world. Ingredient is an album whose lyrics are more poem than lyric, and whose songs exist in a merger of house music, philosophically-minded lyricism and contemporary R&B. One might recall electronic and art-pop luminaries such as Yukihiro Takahashi, The Blue Nile, and Arthur Russell, or connect it to contemporaries like Nite Jewel, Westerman and Blood Orange. A distinct world of dance, of questions, of secrecy and ultimate softness.

Eight years of friendship forges strange telepathy.

In the summer of 2020, Ian Daniel Kehoe was entrenched in a new feeling of heaviness; psychosomatic symptoms had started to proliferate; stress made new pores across the body, bending sensitivity into pain. His days were met with confusion, detachment, sleeplessness and pain without causation. Disfigured, he felt that what had been central and centering was blown out to the periphery of things. In a moment of self-preservation he reached out to his dear friend Luka Kuplowsky to make an album together. For Kehoe, it was an instinctual grasp for the anchoring truthfulness of deep friendship and the potential for a dedicated creative collaboration. Kuplowsky’s presence was light, supportful and curious, eager to explore musically the sounds they were mutually drawn to: house music, ambient pop, dub. The duality between Kuplowsky and Kehoe – between the Aflight and the Unmoored – is a portrait of a friendship whose exchanges came easy and produced an outpouring of song. Creation and therapy crisscross. In email correspondence that catalogs their process of collaboration, affection abounds: “feels bare without the Luka Licks”, or “Love you so much”, or “Kinda just overwhelmed with deadliness coming in at all angles.” When their voices first come in together on “Wolf,” that harmony arrives in a dramatic avant-pop sound that is bold and wondrous.

Kuplowsky and Kehoe both arrive at Ingredient as established artists whose works are committed to language’s propensity to provoke and mystify. Kuplowsky’s 2020 album Stardust is an idiosyncratic and otherworldly blend of pop and jazz romanticism grounded by Cohen-esque vocals and a stirring philosophical curiosity. Kehoe’s entrance into the new decade has hatched four records of pop experimentation, most recently 2022’s Yes Very So, a euphoric and bold album of poetic synth-pop and meditative ambient instrumentals. Kuplowsky and Kehoe’s union as Ingredient is a beautiful and unusual chemistry that integrates their distinct approaches while bringing forth a newness: a sound that alternates between cinematic technicolor and dubbed out fogginess; a lyricism that exchanges their lucid and clear poetics for a playful and obtuse verse. The album intuitively taps into the opposing emotional states of Kuplowsky and Kehoe during the conception of the record, contrasting the buoyancy of trumpeting keyboards (“Resurface”), angelic synthesized voices (“Come”), and rolling bass (“Photo”) with the record’s underlying darkness of whirring buzzsaw textures (“Transmission”), whooping sirens (“Wolf”) and murky ambience (“Illumination”). Lyrically, this duality arises in the record’s flux between openness (“Variation”, “Raindrop”) and existential dread (“Wolf”). “Illumination” most clearly crystalizes this opposition, reconciling the verses’ neurotic yearning for enlightenment with the chorus’ liberating doctrine of negation: “no more devotion… no more delusion”. Amidst the gradations of light and dark, Kuplowsky and Kehoe trade indelible, lush melodies as though their voices are made of a substance that melts easily one into the other. The harmony of poetry, sound, and texture cuts through your brain fog like a wet diamond.

Ingredient’s self-titled record was assembled by Kuplowsky and Kehoe over the course of six months in a home studio they frequented daily. Amidst synthesizers and drum machines they composed, re-composed, and workshopped a wide array of music, ultimately focusing on a set of eight songs that lived in a shared musical and philosophical world. Recording days often ended in basketball games at a local court or a rooftop commune over a pot of tulsi tea and a crossword puzzle. Kuplowsky brought in the Blue Cliff Record – the classic anthology of Chan Buddhism – whose inscrutable and sublime insights remained constant throughout the recording process as an activator of reorientation and reflection. While Kehoe was frequently rendered physically immobile by bouts of anxiety, a patience and mutual caring governed the pace of their creation; rest, stretching and meditation became equally important as the act of arrangement. Invited into their intimate circle of composition was Thom Gill, whose heavenly voice uplifts “Variation” and “Raindrop,” and Karen Ng, whose alto sax simmers and dances around the funky strut of “Raindrop.”

The lyrics on Ingredient reflect the persistence of change, the infinite variability of nature where randomness and divergence are no accidents. In Daoism, duality, in the form of Yin and Yang, is not contradictory as it is in Western idealist philosophy, but rather composes the eternal and lived paradox of our changeless-changing universe: changeless because all is change, and changing because the dynamism of the Dao makes each moment transformational. Kuplowsky and Kehoe refract this way of seeing the world, as in Variation: “Variation in the natural world / there it is.” Ingredient is an experience of the manifold ways of saying there it is of the transformational world, and there it is, unfolding. Elsewhere, change and ephemerality is addressed through the record’s preoccupation with non-human perspectives, reorienting the listener to the wolf, the mouse, the emerald frog, the centipede, the bird, the fly in the lamp. The album cover visualizes this fascination with the striking image of a reddish-orange frog atop a defamiliarized landscape of dark green leaves. Mirroring the exploratory process of the record’s collaboration, the frog also signals the amphibian’s natural inclination to leap into boundless potential. Kuplowsky and Kehoe’s lyrics manifest philosopher and ecologist Timothy Morton’s concept of “the mesh,” drawing attention to the “vast, entangled web” of interconnectedness that connects all life forms and interweaving the songwriters’ shared wonder into the Animal’s unknowability. As Luka narrates in the breakdown of the dance-floor ready “Photo,” “the closer we observe things, the further they retreat into abstraction.” In Ingredient’s ecosystem, perception is a reversible fractal where the world’s minutest details mirror the shape of the cosmos.

According to the Dao, the path to healing starts by reorienting perception away from the self and toward the self’s subsumption in Totality. For Kehoe, collaborating with Kuplowsky became the reorientation necessary for the self-preservation he was seeking, opening up a shared creative practice to navigate and soften the complexity of his psychological shattering. The album begins with Kuplowsky intoning “colossal faith” which bounces around the stereo field in a cloud of echo, and it is the enormity of “faith” that centers both Kuplowsky and Kehoe’s collaboration and their inquisitiveness in the vast mysteries of our very being. Truth in Ingredient is not an essential nugget, but a bending of the light – it is the equivocal entanglement of how we are in nature as nature, but with a plea or prayer under our breath that marks our felt distance from what we are a part of: “carry me towards the mountains of my birth / returning to the nest / the silence of the earth.”

With I was born by the sea, Richie Culver brings to a close a period of intense introspection and emotional reckoning with a debut album that serves as both an optimistic statement of intent and a final glance back at the painful places it explores. Following recent work with Blackhaine and Pavel Milyakov, I was born by the sea picks up where Culver’s EP for Italian label Superpang, Post Traumatic Fantasy, leaves off, painting an unabashed portrait of contemporary malaise, detailing a life lived behind closed doors, pinned under the crushing weight of austerity, sapped of the strength to do anything other than gaze out to sea and all the grey possibilities it represents. Where Post Traumatic Fantasy saw Culver returning to his hometown of Hull after a period spent entangled in London’s relentless sprawl, his first full length project reaches further back to his formative years working in a caravan factory and going to raves in and among Hull’s outskirts. Unspooling like a fever dream, I was born by the sea is the anxious clutter of a racing mind spoken clearly, a stark reflection on how it feels to have too many ideas and too much time to act on them.

Though unquestionably a snapshot of a time of significant difficulty, Culver reflects on this period with tender empathy and pitch-black humour, stitching together unflinching observations from England’s neglected corners, ‘there’s more mobility scooter repair shops and bookies than there are bookshops,’ and devastating vignettes of everyday struggle, ‘tears on the tin foil’, with surreal depictions of industrial grit, ‘skimming stones in a small pond by the slaughterhouse’. His DIY approach to production stretches the rough sinew that connects these fragments of memory, a process he describes as using a paired back collection of synths and drum machines to the best of his ability, ‘but to the least of their capabilities,’ wringing out visceral sound with self-taught urgency. During the album’s most impressionistic passages it’s as though Culver has transposed past internal turmoil into powerfully resonant noise, the Sisyphean sonics of ‘Create A Lifestyle Around Your Problems’, which evokes in its concrète clatter and MRI machine barrage the sound of making the same mistake again and again, or the stuttered jumble of ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You,’ its garbled vocal modulation and frayed edges of distortion channeling the paranoia of somebody listening to muffled voices through thin plaster, climbing the walls of their bedroom with the curtains closed, a nervous breakdown in stereo.

In counterpoint to this glides the ever-present spirit of the dance floor, which haunts the record from the moment it is invoked in its first few seconds. Opening onto a sea wall of bright synthesis, the stuttering vocals and bass tone chops of ‘Nervous Energy’ dump us directly into post rave ecstasy, the echoing cry of a voice amplified by loudspeaker carrying the loose energy and surge of crowds moving in darkness. The incessant, dead phone line beep of ‘Pigeon Flesh’ builds to a pulse that suddenly swells into an anxious technoid surge, shapeshifting at lysergic speed into head shrinking audio hallucinations, a descent into the void of the present via machine music hypnosis. Even ‘Its Hard To Get To Know You’ summons the ego death drive of hardcore techno within its scorched textures, flickering indiscernibly between attritional noise and frazzled hardware stomp. Paying homage to both the parties of his youth and a countless succession of Sundays spent offering himself up within Berghain’s hallowed architecture, Culver’s experiments in addressing his formative relationship with rave provide an energetic glimpse at where he might take his sound next.

Between spikes of propulsive energy and grim mood pieces Culver returns to suspended passages of aching, glacial drift, the cold swell of the North Sea, accompanied by some of his heaviest testimonials. The gauzy ebb of ‘Daytime TV,’ its tumbling loops reminiscent of boats bobbing off a distant shore, sees the artist at his most checked out, slumped in front of his television, seven days a week. ‘I used to dream of doing something,’ he admits, ‘anything to get out of this town.’ ‘Love Like An Abscess’ pairs swirling currents of ambient shimmer with violent images of baseball bats lying next to beds and blood-stained mattresses, next to which Culver pleads in a desperate mumble, ‘let our love grow, like a broken abscess.’ Yet it’s with the album’s final word and title track that Culver reveals a glimmer of cautious optimism, a parting gesture of exposition and closure. ‘I knew I had to get away,’ he asserts, ‘so I did and I never looked back.’ What follows builds from a low throb, the flutter of a tiny heartbeat, to a resonant glow, embellished with unfurling synthetic burbles, oil rigs sparkling in the distance, golden light spilling across the sea. In reckoning with the place he had to escape, Richie Culver is now free to look towards the promise of something new, something hopeful.

The East Coast of England is a land living on borrowed time. Time we borrowed from the North Sea, reclaimed a thousand years ago. But now it seems that sea has come to claim it all back. Michael C Coldwell spent three years travelling up and down this rapidly disappearing shoreline, collecting ghost stories, photographing the roads to nowhere, the monumental sound mirrors and pillboxes teetering on the edges of cliffs, making field recordings of the waves and fog signals, and writing mournful electronic music from static caravans. This hauntological project finally culminated in a short essay film entitled Views from Sunk Island - and this new Conflux Coldwell album. More than just a film score, The Phantomatic Coast stretches beyond the original aims of the documentary, to evoke something deeper about our troubled relationship with the sea – the many towns and ships lost beneath the waves, and ancient forgotten lands lying out beyond the windfarms like some Yorkshire Atlantis. Memory and mythology became obvious themes in the work, as did the ruins and remains of the world wars, now slipping beneath shifting sands forever. The Phantomatic Coast will be released via digital platforms and limited edition pressed vinyl in a deluxe gatefold sleeve.

Dynamite Cuts is proud to release this mighty afro funk 7” double by the mighty MATATA band. Both tracks taken from the Mega rare and collectable “Independence” LP. On the A side is “I Feel funky” the perfect club dancer, with its up-tempo groove and catch chorus, win, winner. On the flip is the hidden treasure, and for the first time on 7” vinyl the massive!! “Talkin’ Talkin”, a killer afro funk mid-tempo groove with a great lyric plus an almighty old school drum break, just perfect.

Blue Vinyl

Throughout his productive career, Carl Oesterhelt has proven to be an artist who finds it easy to move between musical genres and concepts. Much of his work has been within classical and chamber music, but he has also scored museum exhibitions and he is sometimes part of The Notwist crew as an angular figure on the Munich scene.

In Umor Rex we have been lucky enough to publish an array of Oesterhelt's universes. In Eleven Pieces for Synthesizer (Umor Rex 2019) we heard his kosmische side, where the connections with Harmonia or Klaus Schulze were amalgamated with ecclesiastical organ pieces and intense semi-automatic rhythms. A deeply melodic, fresh album. Pure syntax of the modern synthesizer. Further, in The Aporias of Futurism (Umor Rex 2021), in collaboration with Andreas Gerth (Driftmachine, Tied & Tickled Trio), Oesterhelt showed what is perhaps his darkest side —a work full of nuances within concrete music and midnight atmospheres. As deep and cerebral an album as it is surprising and catatonic.

Yet it seems that Carl Oesterhelt has another ace up his sleeve. Now he surprises us with The Dualistic Principle, a fantastic album full of weird but charming electronic melodies, rhythms that push the body to movement, sometimes syncopated and abstract, others permanent and fluid. In this work, Oesterhelt invited Johan Simons to give voice to the lyrics. The Dualistic Principle is a sort of rendition of a philosophical review or a nostalgic memory of the glamorous years. There is also underlying humor in the Post / Space-pop / Munich-disc assortment. The Dualistic Principle is the score to an imaginary film of contemporary hedonism.

All music & lyrics by Carl Oesterhelt. Voice by Johan Simons. Additional strings played by the Ensemble für synkretische Musik. Recorded in Munich & Bochum, Germany. Mastered by John Tejada in Sherman Oaks, USA. Artwork by Daniel Castrejón in Mexico City.

While frontman Tom Greenhouse’s off-kilter observations and bizarro anecdotes remain front and centre, this time round the band up their game with a more vigorous sound that keeps pace with Greenhouse’s wholly distinctive lyrical style. Greenhouse continues to revel in telling increasingly surreal short stories, rejoicing in the power of the deadpan one-liner and bedecking his songs with far-flung cultural references. But now the band employ a variety of techniques with improved pro- duction, from the impulsively bashed keyboards and jubilantly repetitive guitar stabs that have be- come their trademark, to flirtations with–heaven forbid!–melody, chord progressions and arrangements which elevate their tried-and-tested blueprint into a more exciting and cohesive whole.

Opener Musicians is the perfect embodiment of this conscious development. Here, Greenhouse re- counts a sarcastic tale of half-truths that see him galavanting around town trying to put a band to- gether. Sonically, it begins with a caustic callback to the group’s first EP Crap Cardboard Pet and its über-minimalist aesthetic. But by the end of the song a joyous festival of afrobeat-inspired in- struments including samba whistles, bongos and saxophones are added to the mix as the front- man, ironically, fails in his mission to recruit more players.

With Get Unjaded, the band have somehow conjured something close to pop, without abandoning the repetition and wit that’s relished by their early fans. I Lost My Head also adopts a jangle-pop sheen with a luscious synth melody, as the frontman ditches the spoken-word for a surly croon (his first known attempt at actual singing!) that provides a welcome breather from the onslaught of dense recantations that are the band’s bread-and-butter.

While the lyrics here are still often humorous and political, Greenhouse has also notably expanded his interests on this album to include a new host of topics. The influence of extraterrestrials, for ex- ample, infiltrates the subject matter frequently. On The UFOs, the mysterious protagonist Blinkus Booth’s isolationist lifestyle is apparently interrupted by the spectres of otherworldly visitors, while closer The Neoprene Ravine feels like an extract from a deep space rock opera. Here, jaunty and angular instruments pile-on as we are fed images of an interstellar Spinal Tap, the titular fictional band “The Neoprene Ravine” who are “the alien equivalent of the Velvet Underground” and include an alien Lou Reed yelping “too busy sucking on my little green ding dong!”.

Meanwhile, Hard Rock Potato is propelled by a vortex of keys and synths, a real noise-pop gem comprised of real guitar chords (!) and rock-orientated riffs. Here the stream-of-consciousness lyrics take shots at the sinister financial industry, and include one of the many top-tier one-liners on the album: “It’s not gambling if you’re wearing a tie (even if you’ve got no trousers on)”.

On Sod’s Toastie, The Cool Greenhouse have pushed their distinctive flavour of post-punk to the point of perfection – their incongruous riffs, alchemical instrumental chemistry, and irreverent spo- ken-word vocals are a delight throughout. Sod’s Toastie is hilarious at times, and at others just hilariously good – a not-so-difficult second album.

Following the success of Aesop Rock's most recent solo album, Spirit World Field Guide, he returns to deliver the instrumental version of those interdimensional adventures. Aesop has long been celebrated for his talents as a lyricist, but he has continually grown and evolved as a producer as well. While the original Spirit World Field Guide was packed with insightful chapters of firsthand know-how into the terrain, wildlife, and social customs of our parallel universe, the Spirit World Field Guide Instrumentals not only set the tone but also provide the roadmap for you to take your own journey. Welcome to the Spirit World. Explore with intention. "He's never before been such a commanding presence behind the boards. The beats here are the best of his career, full of torque and life." - Pitchfork "The strongest collection of beats he's ever produced." - Passion of the Weiss Official instrumentals from Aesop Rock's critically acclaimed album, Spirit World Field Guide, available for the first time. Album produced entirely by Aesop Rock, except for "Sleeper Car" produced by Hanni El Khatib. Additional album instrumentation provided by Grimace Federation and Hanni El Khatib Vinyl packaging includes 12" matte gatefold jacket, printed record sleeves, and one each of transparent cloudy effect green/blue double-vinyl, plus free digital download card. Album artwork illustrated by renowned artist Justin "Coro" Kaufman

The Netherland’s De Ambassade have dropped the ‘De’ and are now known as Ambassade. Optimo Music is extremely happy to be working with them and will be releasing their second album in 2023. Ahead of that is this glorious 2 track 12” featuring music that took our breath away when we first heard it. Both tracks are exclusive to this release.

We asked Ambassade to tell us a bit about the tracks…

“These 2 songs were born after a collaboration with Naama Freedman. She’s an artist from Amsterdam and former member of Ambassade. She brought a couple sketches to the studio and we came out with these 2 songs.

The lyrics on ‘Young Birds’ come from an old traditional English folk song from around 1903. It has been re-arranged a couple times throughout the years by multiple artists. The song reflects our development in sound and arrangement with extended synthesiser parts, less conventional song-writing. Also, us singing in English is a new path.

The pulsing song ‘Palette’ is a perfect combination of sequence and extended legato vocal parts. It creates a tense atmosphere which builds up to the very end.”

Limited Clear Green Vinyl! Bobby Oroza and Cold Diamond & Mink treat us to the instrumental version of their latest album Get On The Otherside. Bobby Oroza put his desire for the profound on wax with his sophomore album Get On The Otherside. Musically, he updated the formula we were introduced to on the first record. But lyrically, songs are bravely rooted in the more complicated, ubiquitous inner tangles of life like self-examination and coming to terms with the vastness of the human experience. This limited edition pressing is a chance to enjoy the musicianship and production prowess of the crew without the lyrics giving it a whole other level if vibe to take in.

What does it mean to be a traveler in a fixed place? An adventurer in
domestic space? A troubadour in a confined microcosm, or a
constellation of microcosms—that is, a microcosmos? These are the
questions Nashville musician, songwriter, and published poet Lou Turner
(aka Lauren Turner, Styrofoam Winos) was reflecting on as she wrote her
luminous third solo album, Microcosmos
She says of the cosmic country record, "Musically, these songs are mostly in the
country/folk vein of the 70s songwriter but lyrically they're challenging some of
those tropes or totally subverting them altogether, talking about commitment and
love—the small microcosmic things that make up the fabric of everything."
With her warm and welcoming voice and nylon- stringed acoustic guitar
foregrounded over sparse yet playful arrangements, Microcosmos is a meditation
on what it means to privilege cultivation over consumption and to ponder larger
realities from within the shell of the fixed reality of a home. The reward is the
adventure to be found in stillness and observation, the discovery of the
otherworldly in earthly matter, the revelations of groundedness. Turner generously
offers up these wonders to the listener, sharing hers, and inviting us to find our
own.

Ultramarine & Anna Domino meet again for a reworking of their collaborative track '$10 Heel'.

The song originally appeared on the Ultramarine album Signals Into Space (Les Disques du Crépuscule, 2019). $10 Rework replaces the urgent, jittery rhythm of the original with a straighter House backbone and then proceeds to disassemble the structure with a pair of freestyle, hands-on-the-desk, on-the-fly dub mixes.

Anna Domino's stream-of-consciousness lyrics tell the impressionistic tale of post-club after-hours chaos in Times Square, NYC circa 1979. Anna raps off studio equipment brand names like passing neon signs glimpsed in a blur through a taxi cab window.

Iain Ballamy wields his saxophone like a graffiti artist with a spray can; scrawling and skronking across the canvas. Ric Elsworth lurks in a side alley, unraveling a trash can monologue of wild flamming bongos.

Ultramarine is the UK duo of Ian Cooper & Paul Hammond. Formed in 1989, their albums include Every Man and Woman is a Star (Rough Trade, 1991), United Kingdoms (w/ Robert Wyatt) (Blanco Y Negro, 1993) and Signals Into Space (w/ Anna Domino) (Les Disques du Crépuscule, 2019).

Anna Domino is an American musician based in LA and NY, best known for her classic run of releases on Belgian label Les Disques du Crépuscule in the 1980s and '90s.

Iain Ballamy is a composer and saxophonist; a member of the Loose Tubes collective in the 1980s and more recently with several albums to his name on ECM.

Ric Elsworth is UK-based percussionist and vibraphone player.

Cosmopolitanism is creeping into the bedroom studios of producers worldwide. Romanski is another agent evolving transcultural hybrids, which blend from retained folkways to modern aged club grooves. A mixture of electronic beats in a rigid machine order and handmade organic moments woven together to form an eclectic sound. With a bit of drama, the hamburg based dj & producer Romanski, invites you on a diverse journey with his unique vision of club music. Balearic groove patterns accompanied by repetitive bongo motives & dimmed synth themes flow along the 4 tracks (2 of them featured on 7" vinyl) of this EP. The title track "Karma Calling" is a passionate homage to Mulatu Astatke, "Tagh Tagh" is surrounded by an iranian children’s song, "Gaugin" features a tahitian vocoder line about the french painter and on "Ants" Romanski reflects on lyrics that came to him when resident at a sanatorium years ago. Romanski is using his custom sound range & tools to express his downbeat grooves in this well balanced release. Hide below or turn around the umbrella with devotion and delight.

High Roller Records, reissue 2022, black vinyl, ltd 500, 425gsm heavy cardboard cover, lyric sheet, poster, mastered for vinyl by Patrick W. Engel/ Temple of Disharmony

Extremely limited edition 7” vinyl pressing of Red Rum Club’s infectious new singles Vanilla and The River.

After recently kicking up a dusty, desert-pop storm on their US tour, Liverpool’s funk-infused, brass-driven rock sextet are offering their new wave of American fans a chance to take home a slice of Scouse swagger in the form of a super limited two-track 7” record.

Armed with unapologetically catchy melodies and oozing with an instantly likeable charm, the band have captured the true essence of their personalities on these two new singles. ‘Vanilla’ takes a vicious side-swipe at mundanity and provides the perfect antidote to “vannilla” living with its infectious hook, vibrant brass melody and brooding vocal delivery. Meanwhile, unreleased track ‘The River’ sees the band delve into their emotive side and produce an uplifting and heartwarming song that radiates a feel-good party atmosphere that will make you forget all your troubles in an instant.

Never afraid to wear their hearts on their sleeve, Red Rum Club have distilled the rock and roll flair, endearing lyrical honesty and hip-shaking musical energy of their wide-ranging discography into two tracks that epitomise them as a band. After releasing three albums in as many years, the group have truly refined their unique sound, combining the authentic grit of their native northern England with an eclectic, groove-laden funk sensibility and this exclusive new 7” is the perfect way to sample that concoction in its truest form.

ROOMER is the name of the latest Berlin music sensation. Call it slowcore, shoegaze, dream pop, noise- or indie rock. Whatever way you like! The band's influences are definitely an eclectic lot. Just like with all good bands. But their sound is now! ROOMER are consisting of well-known Berlin scene musicians* who only now start to appear as ROOMER: Ronja Schößler, Ludwig Wandinger, Luca Pusch and Arne Braun. The birth of the band, however, goes back to a session at Kunsthalle Below about a year ago "We recorded a few songs on our own with some equipment that was lying around there and then recorded a few overdubs at home in Berlin," says Ronja Schößler laconically about the founding myth of ROOMER. On this EP they sound like a band that has been playing together for many years and knows exactly where they want to go with their music. ROOMER proves once again that a circle of friends making music is b asically unbeatable as a band formation.

Texas born, Swindon bred, South Londoner Rainn Byrns is no stranger to the independent music press having enjoyed coverage in The Line Of Best Fit, DIY Mag, Dork, So Young, Hard of Hearing and The Guardian for his recent singles and Country Living EP. With the build up to his debut album New In Town, BBC 6Music’s Steve Lamacq, Amazing Radio and Radio X’s new music guru John Kennedy have all been playing tracks from it (+ John Kennedy has invited Rainn on to his X-Posure show for a session and interview during the week of release). Rainn’s innate talent for writing from the heart with total honesty shines bright on the album through a collection of indie lo-fi future classics, jam-packed with melodies and a tasteful bedroom-pop sensibility. Tinges of Americana, inspired by his early years growing up in Texas can be heard throughout, and combined with Rainn’s on the nose lyrical delivery, make this an exciting debut long player from an artist brimming with talent and potential. Further support from 6Music, Radio X & Amazing Radio

Bubbling up from the psychedelic tar pits of L.A., Frankie and the Witch Fingers have been a constant source of primordial groove for the better part of the last decade. Formed and incubated in Bloomington, IN before moving west to scrap with Los Angeles’ garage rock rabble, the band evolved from cavern-clawed echo merchants to architects of prog-infected psych epics that evoke a shift in reality. After a stretch on Chicago/LA flagship Permanent Records the band landed at yet another fabled enclave of garage and psychedelia - Brooklyn’s Greenway Records, now working in tandem with psych powerhouse LEVITATION and their label The Reverberation Appreciation Society, the groups latest effort is dually supported by a RAS / Greenway co-release. After years of searching for the specific alchemy that would tear open the cosmos, they found the formula with the addition of Shaughnessy Starr on drums in the summer of 2018. They began a new cycle and tripped into tip-on double gatefold territory, flesh-ing out their lysergic impulses into a monolith of sound that closes in from all sides. The band reached new levels of grandiosity and utilized every minute to manifest their psych-soul Sabbath in four dimensions, spilling psychic blood on a populace ready and eagerly waiting. Yet, as expansive, inventive, and immersive as any studio album might be, the band is born for the stage. As their live prowess caught the ears of some legends in their own right, the band practically lived on the road last year with stints opening for Oh Sees, Cheap Trick and ZZ Top. Along the way the constant pulpit of the stage would form ZAM into a transformative experience while plotting their next permutation of space and time. That transformation, Monsters Eating People Eating Monsters... (repeated infinitely,) rises like a Phoenix from the road tar, van exhaust, and ozone crackle of amps in heat. Once off the road it was recorded in just five blistering days. Though, while the tour may have hammered the album into shape and brought about a wind of change, those changes stretched to the band itself as well. In the wake of the tour the band’s longtime bassist Alex Bulli made his exit, with the majority of bass parts on the album being written and played by multi-instrumental magician Josh Menashe with occasional pitch in from songwriter Dylan Sizemore. Stripped to their core the band has created their most ambitious work to date, an album that takes the turbulence of ZAM and crafts it into a beast more insidious and singular than anything in their catalog. Moving forward, the band has taken on new blood. Completing their lineup, Nikki Pickle (of Death Valley Girls) will join them working the new album out roadside on bass. A new horizon of Frankie and the Witch Fingers draws near and we’re all set to follow them into the unknown.