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It's the pair you've all been waiting for! FINALLY!

Alan Tew's Drama Suite Part II. What can we really say? Honestly? We guess the first thing that strikes you is how clean the drums are. Almost impossibly slick but dripping so, so heavy with the neck-snapping funk you'd expect from perhaps the most sought-after library funk set of them all! The cheapest on Discogs is, currently, £1300+. Now's your chance to remedy that. If you know, you know. And we think you know...

"The Rub" is a cool, low-slung heavy-funk roller with relaxed brass and alto flute phrases. Up next, "Money Runner" is another edgy funk glider, its easy-tempo moving in harmony with slinky rhythmic riffs and featuring a seemingly ad-libbed electric piano solo. Strutting along after, "White Elephant Walk" is another laconic, deeply stoned walking theme with electric piano and alto flutes. There follows a couple of brief "walking" links before the brilliantly tense "Master Plan" slowly builds. Expectancy grows to the main theme around a minute in and then a melodic theme builds slightly to the 3 minute mark before floating down gradually and elegantly to its climax. It's utterly fantastic. The smoky, after-hours "Night Watch" is a slow, cool gem featuring alto flutes and synths.

Now we're talking, "The Fence (a)" is just sensational and worth buying this album all on its own. It's likely the reason you're here, anyway. Another impossibly funky, slow and easy tempo with a bass riff to die for, dramatic guitar with gorgeous electric piano and alto flute phrases. It was sampled for "Action Satisfaction" by J5, way way back. "The Fence (b)" is a slower, more deliberate version of the previous heater, but it's no less essential. Indeed, it's absolutely jaw-drooping. Closing out this remarkable side, "Surveillance" is another horizontal masterpiece of relaxed yet dramatic jazz-funk. Vibes ad-lib in centre section and give you an idea of how Roy Ayers making library funk in the mid-late 70s might've sounded. Sensational.

Flip over for "Total Silence", a near-beatless and understated scene-setter featuring neat interplay of guitar and synthesizer themes over bass and hi-hats. The slow "Eyes" follows, a brief gem with subdued electric piano solo and a light climax. The fantastic "Drama Backcloth (1a)" is up next, a repetitive piano and bass refrain with guitar figures over the top. Its creeping crime-funk vibe was pilfered for "Outta Town Shit" by Ghostface Killah in 2006. "Drama Backcloth (1b)" is a short, subdued version without the guitar figure. "Drama Backcloth (2)" features an expectant, background marimba figure over light rhythm whilst the cool "Drama Backcloth (3)" centres around a relaxed riff and the angular "Drama Backcloth (4)" presents eerie progressions with piano interjections. It's decidedly non-rhythmic!

We're then onto 14 (!) different half-minute "Scenechanges", all jazzy and funky, some cool and dramatic, some slow and rhythmic. All ace and groove-fuelled. The aptly-titled "Final Statement" closes proceedings, a slow, pensive theme on guitar joined by cool brass and a solo trumpet to its climax.

As with all of our KPM re-issues, the audio for Drama Suite Part II comes from the original analogue tapes and has been remastered for vinyl by Be With regular Simon Francis. And as usual, the sleeve reproduction duties were handed over to Richard Robinson, the current custodian of KPM’s brand identity. We're not quite sure what else to say about this landmark record, other than, GET IT!

Danny Daze presents a brand new alias for Slacker 85 first solo artist EP - D33 is a long-gestating alter-ego through which the Miami DJ & producer plans to explore a more house-leaning output.

The Operator EP sees the Omnidisc label owner channeling his multi-genre, Miami bass-infused sound into a quartet of stripped-down machine jams tailored for house DJ sets, with the fidgety title track issued in two flavors, the D33 ‘Wet Mix’ and Danny Daze ‘Dry Mix’, while on the B-side the heavy kick and evil bassline of ‘Azuca’ is offset by the hypnotic Jonny From Space collab ‘C’mon’.

“D33 is an alias I’ve had floating around in my head for years. It leans more towards my house music side and allows my head to dig into simpler production of dance music. My D33 production and DJ sets purposely feel a bit more laid back. Now I have the time to give out a crazy amount of hugs in between tracks while DJing… :) ” - Danny Daze aka D33

Repress!

Little Dragon return with a spectacular second album offering in August, a pulsating electro pop epic that Prince would be proud of (only fronted by a beautiful Swedish lady with a sultry voice). A bold and surprising side/two step onwards from their self titled debut, released two years ago to great acclaim especially among specialist circles. Machine Dreams, with its nagging hooks and gloriously infectious tunes, should finally see the band break out into the mainstream.

Recorded in their home city of Gothenburg, Machine Dreams is a gigantic leap on from previous material but still maintains a distinct sound that can only be Little Dragon. Be it Yukimi s warmly inviting vocals, Erik s dextrous drumming, the vast array of synths and bleeps created by Hakan or Frederik s bubbling bass lines, together they don t sound like anything else around right now. The move towards a more electronic sound was a conscious one, as Yukimi explains; The title Machine Dreams seems obvious. These days, humans seem more and more like machines, and as technology evolves, machines feel more human and it becomes fuzzy and beautiful and science fiction-ish. We feel dependent on our machines to create and live, and their sounds reflect us .

Album opener A New breaks us in gently with a single whirring note on the synthesiser, an almost alien sound that gradually morphs into a slow, thumping bassline. Yukimi s vocals flow alongside Hakan s assortment of sound effects interspersed with militaristic drums breaks. A magical opener that sets the scene and seems to sink into itself, taking us with it, until the pace is swiftly ratcheted skywards with Looking Glass , the massive snare, crisp driving beat and experimental synths revealing the band s current penchant for the 80 s. This influence continues apace into stand out track My Step . Utilising a solid drumbeat that nestles next to jagged and playful synthlines, the track breaks down into motorik propulsion with a scuzzy techno bassline that Yukimi works with ease.

Upcoming single Feather finds Yukimi s voice at its most detached and blaze, seemingly nonchalant yet magnificently seductive. Backed by Hakan s keyboard atmospherics, the song creates a soundscape reminiscent of Tears For Fears more reflective moods. Gradually layering more vocals, synths, echoes and reverb, it builds to a quietly psychedelic, dreamy cosmic swirl. Runabout brings forth a mini Airto style percussive breakdown at the tail end of yet another Little Dragon pop gem. Swimming bursts forth into vision with stabbing keys and reflective bass alongside yet another wonderful vocal performance from Yukimi who sings of young love and now so many years have past, my memories as clear as glass . The song is over as quickly as it started, flowing into the next miniature masterpiece in the form of Blinking Pigs

The album closes with the stunning track Fortune , which has already caught the attention of none other than DJ Shadow. It s no wonder really, as the textured melodies blend with the drifting percussion, creating a blissful sonic mood. With a smattering of drums and bass and the magic of Yukimi s voice and Hakan s electronic dynamics floating on top, it s the perfect track to end this fascinating journey through Little Dragon s brave new world.

With disparate influences from Depeche Mode to Prince, LCD Soundsystem to James Holden, Dancehall to R&B, Jazz and Soul, Little Dragon take their place among artists who straddle many genres, yet somehow create their own and in doing so create sounds that make time stop (Yukimi). Futuristic yet somehow retro, Machine Dreams sees Little Dragon achieve something timeless; that elusive pop classic.

Meteora - a chain of Greek-Byzantine monasteries was built around the 14th century on top of sandstone rock formations in the fading range of the Pindus Mountains, in the Thessalian lowlands of Greece At an over 600 meters high, some of them were only accessible by rope ladders or winches for hundreds of years. Makiko Hirabayashi learned of this place during a concert tour to Athens and was immediately captivated by its symbolic power: the isolated units which nevertheless exist in a larger context; fragile and floating, but at the same time firmly grounded. The opening title of the new, fifth album of her trio seems to have been perfectly chosen; "Warp", relating to the space above the early monasteries on the rock formations, as well as connecting the album to her previous release Weavers, in which much was woven with warp threads. A high-pitched bass, the subtle use of electronics, like everything else that follows, seem to emerge somehow from outer space. These are seemingly simple structures that only reveal themselves as complex architecture upon repeated listening - meditative and fleeting, but at the same time permanently carved into the rock. Minimalistic piano figures from which melodic fragments emerge, in their very clarity offer ample material for improvisation. With onomatopoeic percussion, an impressionistic and scenic painting is sketched in "Birds Ascending", whereas enthralling rhythms lead the way in "Chestnut Alley" or the sky-racing "Meteor". In between those, you find the improvised miniatures like "The Door" or "Slip", aspherical connections between worlds: imaginary doors, rope ladders or hinges. After the lockdown album Weavers, Makiko Hirabayashi is back in the piano trio setting with Klavs Hovman on bass and the legendary percussionist/ drummer Marilyn Mazur, reclaiming her space and time. Some of the material produced here has been part of their live repertoire for some years and gone through a maturing process, becoming an integral part of the whole album put together in the spirit of Meteora.

Following on from recent works for 12k, The Trilogy Tapes, and Important, Far More Decentralized is a new collection of subtle, enchanting pieces from Tokyo-based sound and visual artist Akhira Sano. Working with electronic, instrumental, and concrete sounds, he crafts immersive assemblages of long overlapping tones and blurred resonance, cut through with textural crunch and hiss. The resonant bell-like tones of opener ‘Kouai’ invite the listener in, calling up the warm sound palette of ambient classics like Hiroshi Yoshimura’s Music for Nine Postcards, but leaving any sense of compositional anchor behind for a free-floating harmonic drift. Woven through this seductive tonal cloud is a wavering stream of white noise and tactile pops, its textural grit threatening to derail the calmly reflective pool of pitched sounds, but never quite doing so. Each of these seven pieces occupies a similarly ruminative harmonic space while possessing its own identity. On ‘Neow’, lush tonal swells form around fragmented samples, touching on the techniques of early 2000s glitch artists like Ekkehard Ehlers. ‘Orbv’ is particularly subtle in its combination of rippling back-masked tonal wash, almost subliminal suggestions of field recordings, and distant traces of raw electronic interference, as if a Toshimaru Nakamura recording is playing through an open window across the road. ‘Margin’ weaves together a skein of wistful slow-motion melodies while untraceable, resonant clinks and ambiguous static washes rise gradually to the surface. In comparison to his recent Phase Contrast for Recollection on 12k, recognisable instrumental sounds are a rarity here, yet a hand-played feeling is present throughout. On ‘Teens’, filtered electric guitar tones reminiscent of the melancholic miniatures of Andrew Chalk float over aqueous burbles, bringing the album to a magisterial close. In the crowded field of contemporary electronic music tending toward ambience, Sano is a distinctive voice. Like his elegant abstract paintings, here seemingly static surfaces of unhurried calm reveal rich interior worlds of subtle activity and gentle chaos. Where much contemporary ambient music aims for an almost stifling cleanliness of tone, Sano breathes life into Far More Decentralized through the acceptance of imperfection, accident, and rough edges. As the artist himself says, ‘In a world where everything can be made perfectly, I think it’s a beautiful and primal act to touch the fragile and imperfect’

Faitiche releases the album Improvisations And Edits, Tokyo 26.09.2001 on vinyl for the first time. For the original 2002 CD on Soup-Disk and Sub Rosa (Audiosphere), Jan Jelinek and the Japanese trio Computer Soup (Satoru Hori – trumpet, Osamu Okubo - toys & electronics, Kei Ikeda - toys & electronics) presented eight tracks all recorded one afternoon in the trio’s living room in Tokyo. They are excerpts from a joint group improvisation that subsequently underwent rudimentary editing, on which Jelinek and Computer Soup worked separately.

Jelinek met the three musicians at his first concert in Japan in 2001, at Tokyo’s Yellow club, where Computer Soup performed as the support act. Delighted by their free improvisation on pocket-sized electronic toys, trumpet and oscillators, he arranged to meet Hori, Okubo and Ikeda a few days later for a session at their apartment. The resulting three-hour recording, made on their living room floor, formed the basis for Improvisations and Edits. A few days later, Jelinek returned to Berlin. Over the following months, they separately chose passages from the recording that were then edited and assembled into an album.

Formed in Tokyo in 1996 as a quintet (including Shusaku Hariya and Daisuke Oishi), Computer Soup began by performing with acoustic instruments on the streets of Shibuya. Ikeda und Okubo soon switched instruments, and from then on the group’s minimalistic but densely woven sound was defined by electronic toys, oscillators and Satoru Hori’s trumpet. Their first album was released in 1997 on the Japanese label Soup Disk. Eight further releases followed.

From the reviews of Improvisations and Edits, Tokyo 26.09.2001 in 2003:

"The mind-blowing first track Straight Life is perhaps the best example of what the album has to offer. Jelinek's trademark smears and washes occupy the midrange, like ghosted images of Joe Zawinul's electric piano floating quietly in the wind. DSP jazz modes are set against a walking bassline (possibly computer generated) and a gently tooted trumpet complete with Harmon mute, a dead ringer for Miles Davis' Prestige-era ballads. The effect is something like a three-dimensional film, with different realities on each layer; images of what jazz was manage to interact with a real-time demonstration of all it could be."
pitchfork, 2003

"Improvisations and Edits is a warm and mellow Ambient release with beautiful glitch fragments, static noise bursts and real trumpet intersections. However, there are times where it is the exact opposite, mainly effect-laden, overdriven and bouncy with a lack of melodies and focus, so be aware of these specific tracks."
ambientexotica, 2003

"Often deliciously dreamy and hazy, Improvisations and Edits is like listening to an exceptional instrumental jazz performance while half-conscious or under some sort of chemical influence. Computerised blips and bleeps, loops and treatments and murky sonic skips curl up around desolate horn notes and scattered instrumental noises that culminate in elegant music."
exclaim.ca, 2003

In the corner of your vision, there’s a daydream on a mission” says Russell Edling in the beginning of “Park (Rye)”. Humming vibrations crescendo around the words floating inthe air and a listener may visualize a flower growing in fast motion, or a dog running backwards, lava flowing, children jumping rope in the evening sun. Suddenly these visions plumet and new frenetic images appear as drums, percussion, and full accompaniment burst into space. The band has arrived, a theme recurrent in Golden Apples’ new record, Bananasugarfire.

A listener might hear echoes of the Velvet Underground, Stereolab, Stone Roses, Yo La Tengo, but there is more going on than just a studied homage to indie rock’s progenitors. The themes of doubt and bewilderment found on previous albums are still present, but they are thrown into a kaleidoscope with beams of positivity, hope, and optimism.

Sven Torstenson's notorious Drugs is a loopdigga's fever dream, bursting with breaks for days and featuring possibly the most iconic cover of all library music's cult classics. First released in 1980, it's now a hyper-rare and seriously sought-after electronic album full of experimental soundscapes and samples just waiting to be flipped. It's both terrifying and terrifyingly good. So much so, it's been brilliantly sampled by Kendrick Lamar and Chance The Rapper.

The sleeve describes Drugs as containing "the newest dimensions of electronic sounds. Dramatic underscores for all problems of today's life and society, at the border between reality and delusion." That's pretty spot-on. The fast moving "Euphoria" is an incredible, unignorable opener. It's loaded with disorientating effects and really needs to be heard to be believed. It's followed by the gorgeous "Soft Hallucinations", containing quiet, meditative and beautiful sounds - as the title suggests. One listen and you'll want to live in the warm embrace of this beatless, harmonic gem. Sinister squelchy synth stabs don't distract from the sheer beauty of the track's main (gentle) thrust. They only serve to elevate its trippy magic.

Next up, "Sky Move"'s agitated and repetitive rhythm makes it an intense listen but with a broad melody that will appeal to many. "Destroyed Dreams" utilises a muffled church organ and it sounds heavenly to begin with but it gradually invites increasingly distorted elements. Yes, you've had trips like this, we're pretty certain. Mental! Talking of bad trips, never have they sounded so good as "Horror Trip"; this fractured drama-synth just needs some some dusty beats to hold it up - get involved.

"Floating Illusions" almost sounds like a beatless Spiritualized bomb from the early-mid 90s; melodic, synthy, church organ-drenched. The mournful, dramatic "Lost Chance" pulses along on a bed of acidy synths whilst "The Morning After" is the sonic equivalent of the extreme fear and doom experienced in the aftermath of the previous night's carnage. Whilst somewhat uncomfortable listening, again, it's pretty compelling thanks to the myriad effects being expertly utilised. Fascinating. The sprawling, fragmented "Random Thoughts" is described as containing "confused melody phrases" - yeah, pretty much sums this one up.

The B-Side is ushered in by "Heroin" and it's as sketchy as you might think, all mysterious minor chords with a dominating - but not overbearing - bass refrain. Next up, the dream-like synthy fanfare of "Night Trip" climaxes after a few minutes of dramatic, ecclesiastical sounds whilst "Day Trip" layers its melody over a repetitive rhythmic base.

Next up, one of the *REAL* highlights makes itself known. Absolutely not to be missed, "Dealer's Corner" is all shifting tenors from quiet to hectic and back around again. The hectic parts are like a totally synthed-out-the-eyeballs jazz-funk collective wigging out with the latest electronic toys from 1980. This one totally SMOKES.

The dramatic "Sad And Hopeless" is appositely replete with dissonant, minor church-organ chords whilst "Riding Pegasus" uses a creepy ostinato bass melody to create irrational bleepy menace that's ripe for sampling. The penultimate track, "Hopeless Chaos" is another disorientating trip, a bleepy confection of sounds and phrases whilst closer "Goin' Mad" is all electronic percussion with an unpleasant rhthymic feel and irritating melody. Music to annoy your partner with!

Established in Munich in 1965 by Gerard and Rotheide Narholz, Sonoton introduced library music to Germany. Initially intended to cater to the country's new TV market, the library also provided an avenue for Gerhard Narholz's astonishing musical prolificacy, and soon became a haven for a wide range of European composers and musicians. In 1969, Sonoton struck a deal with the British label Berry Music for international publishing rights, exposing its catalog to a worldwide audience; when Berry was bought out by EMI in 1973, Sonoton transitioned into a full-fledged international label, with successes in the library and commercial fields and many innovations to its credit. Now a worldwide operation with hundreds of producers and composers under its employ, Sonoton nonetheless remains an independently run business still helmed by its founders - a remarkable achievement in an era when nearly every other major library has been absorbed by a multinational conglomerate.

The audio for Drugs has been remastered by Be With regular Simon Francis, ensuring this release sounds better than ever. Cicely Balston's expert skills have made sure nothing is lost in the cut whilst the original, iconic sleeve has been restored here at Be With HQ as the finishing touch to this long overdue re-issue.

Since forming in 1999, Suishou No Fune (A Ship Of Crystal), the vehicle for long-term musical collaborators Pirako Kurenai (guitar, voice) and Kageo (guitar), have been one of the most compelling groups in the Japanese underground. Their long, languorous songs are devastating in their simplicity, as though the gently sung ballads of the Velvet Underground’s third album were re-scored by the legendary Japanese free-rock gang, Les Rallizes Denudes. Their new album, 風は春、空は虹、愛は波間に隠れている (The wind is spring -. There is a rainbow in the sky - Love is hiding in the waves.), documents a live performance from May 2021, at Silver Elephant, where the duo are joined by Matsuedo Hideo on bass, and Mark Anderson (Greymouth, Mysteries Of Love) on drums.
The duo of Pirako Kurenai and Kageo have come a long way since their early performances and self-released CD-Rs – in the intervening decades, they’ve released albums on P.S.F., Holy Mountain, Important, Archive, 8mm and Essence, amongst others, each album another manifestation of the duo’s ever-changing same. You can hear them patiently toiling over these beauteous songs, with their choral melodies and lush waves of tonology, Kageo’s guitar radiating bejewelled chimes and dense passages of texture, pulling the songs into a black hole of quietude and sadness. And as Kurenai once told journalist Phil Kaberry, “Suishou No Fune’s songs, sounds and words are often born from heartrending feelings like sadness and pain”.
The wind is spring. There is a rainbow in the sky. Love is hiding in the waves begins with the deep blues of “Cherry”, a drawn-out drift-song that pivots on a most elegant two-chord mantra, as Kurenai sings, siren-like, amidst the sheets of noise Kageo peels from six strings. There’s something painterly about the duo’s playing here, and indeed, Kageo was a painter and Kurenai was a doll maker and watercolour painter when they met in the late ‘90s. On the flip side, a spare, spaced-out improvisation, “A Rainbow Is Floating”, acts as a prelude to “Endless Descent”, one of Suishou No Fune’s most remarkable songs, where a mesmeric guitar line endlessly coils and twines around the flicker and toll of Kurenai’s hypnotic one-chord strum. It’s a bruised, quietly desperate ending to an album that has an achroamatic air, as though the songs were transmitting to a cabal of lost spirits.

Black vinyl, in 3 colour variations of silkscreened jacket with obi in black or kraft, with inserts and a postcard Liner notes by Jon Dale Printed by Alan Sherry

Introducing a super charged split LP featuring the talents of Cameron Stallones aka Sun Araw and Spencer Clark’s duo with Jan Andersen, Tarzana.
What originally started as an Aquapelago inspired residency in the summer of 2021 quickly developed into its own thing. Truth be told, both artists always surfed their own personal waves of musical freedom, so Aquapelagos Vol.2 album became AQUA X, a split offshoot work featuring rehashed Tarzana compositions on one side and a live presentation form Cameron’s residency in the island of Tenerife around Keroxen festival’s 13th Edition. With two artists very dear to us this split LP picks up perfectly on the aquapelagic concept and twists inside out into worlds high and below creating a further testament to both’s artists oeuvres. Here’s an extract of Professor Haywards original liner notes regarding the music:
‘’The tracks on this album reflect the geo-cultural position of Californian-based musicians, Cameron Stallones, (who records here under the Sun Araw moniker), and Spencer Clark and Jan Andersen’s (performing as Tarzana) with oceanic atmospheres and structures of feeling.
Sun Araw’s dedication to producing subtle, flowing, psychotropic compositions can be read as an attunement to the oceanic sublime. Recorded within the disused Keroxen tank in Santa Cruz harbour in Tenerife, The Canary Suite is an extended piece that features a mix of electronic pulses, short synthesizer fragments and distorted guitar bursts. The textures are relatively sparse throughout, with a linear emotional contour sustained by an ongoing melodic play within a defined band of possibilities before settling into a calmer, soothing and floating mood, like an aural floatation tank.
Tarzana’s tracks artfully blend simple synthesizer tones, vocal exhortations, and an assortment of treated instrument sounds to create a pulsing, wandering and restless music. Short rhythmic ostinato fragments push and pull against bold blown pipes and horns while subtle darker colours and shades intermittently move through the soundscape to intensify the mood. This is busy and dense music but with an orderly flow and internal sense of motion that sweeps up the listener in its wake, like a sailing ship propelled through tropical seas.’’

Moments of eternity: the first plucks at the strings, a bass note cementing the drift into place a little more than a minute in. The organ drones, iterating unrelivable ancient history, a chiming note of the church. Guitars strings, climbing that stairway to heaven. Gossamer-light when viewed from a distance; up close, the gears grind with a visceral physicality. With BCMC, Cooper Crain and Bill MacKay unite to create Foreign Smokes: provocalogues, equal parts avant-garde noir and fire-and-icy jams to recall bright shades and warm stretches of infinity drawn through the buzzy overdrive of this side of life"s strange and sunny days. Cooper"s organ and synths and Bill"s guitar draw songs from spontaneous statements and elegiac scraps, floating closer, then farther, and closer again to the sounds of the other. Starting with a melody, as set of progressions or even as little as a scale or just a key, gives room for either one of "em to take the lead, depending on where they are or are going at any given time. The reigning motif most often seems to be, to melt and wind around each other"s sound, part of a singular undulation, handed back and forth, a slowly emerging trip up into and through an ideal of exuberance.

“It was a rainy day at the recycling centre in Leitrim. There, amongst the tangle of discarded kettles and broken-down toasters, I first laid eyes on her…” A few years after her stand-out contribution to our ‘Wacker That’ compilation and following a bunch of purple patch releases for Nyahh Records, TakuRoko, Fort Evil Fruit and Eiderdown Records, Natalia Beylis graces Touch Sensitive with a true landmark album for the label – ‘Mermaids. Recorded both at home in Leitrim and at neighbour Mat Warren’s studio (Studio Moo Moo – a converted cow shed), ‘Mermaids’ was inspired by two salvaged items: a CRB Elettronica Ancona - Model: Diamond 708 E electric keyboard from the local tip and a photo taken by her father found in a pile of old family scraps. Smuggled home in the back of the van and ridded of the nine purple crayons lodged inside, the keyboard sounded perfect to Natalia; “The sounds that come from her when I play always move me like water; swimming in rivers and floating in the murk beneath the surface.” The striking image which would become the cover art features Natalia’s mother and two friends during a dip in the ocean. We see three women hanging out on a large rock – their bad-ass hairdos and poses perfectly framed and saturated in sepia. “There are complete siren vibes coming from the rock. Three women, three girls, three witches, three mermaids. I wish I was one of them. Or friends with them.’ After testing compositions and recordings for months on the rescued keys, the discovery of her father’s image formed the final work: “A confluence of the sounds and the image charged through me, and the album began to flicker into being.” Much like the push and pull of the River Shannon, Natalia’s own local swimming spot, ‘Mermaids’ flow is both organic but unstoppable. Anchored around the album’s hypnotic 17-minute title track, we are fully immersed within this subaquatic suite from the first splash. Alongside the keyboard’s glistening tone, field recordings from Natalia’s expansive archive bring us back up for air; taking stops to check in with the chittering chickens and ducks of Athlone. In keeping with her back catalogue and extensive body of work, ‘Mermaids’ exists within its own imagined universe. This is truly singular work that continues to underline Natalia as one of the finest underground artists of her time. We wholeheartedly encourage you to take a forty-minute sonic dip into a deep, murky, watery world of her own creation.

Built around recordings by the acclaimed pedal steel player Henry Senior, the album's six hypnotic and enveloping tracks are supplemented with piano, strings, synths and field recordings performed by Wallis.

The making of the album took an unplanned route. During the winter 2021 lockdown, Wallis began work on an album of more conventional songs, sending several to Henry Senior (Danny & The Champions Of The World, Honey Harper) to record pedal steel parts remotely. Though subsequently deciding to shelve the album, he realised that Senior's pedal steel outlines of the songs formed the basis of something completely different.

The result is an immersive, meticulously crafted album that recalls the ambient pedal steel work of Chuck Johnson and Daniel Lanois mixed with the ethereal post- classical instrumentation of Stars Of The Lid and the field recording work of Claire Rousay.

In Huge Gesturing Loops' is Wallis' fourth release in as many years. The album's title comes from a poem by Philip Larkin. The artwork was put together by designer Luke Jarvis based on the 1930s swimming pool on Marshall Street in Soho, where Wallis swam regularly while working on the album.

DeForrest Brown Jr., the writer and producer behind Speaker Music, describes Techxodus as "abstracting Blackness through information overload". On the album he explores the intersection of tech, Blackness and resistance via music taken from his archived live shows, which are then edited, ordered and reassembled in the studio. The main line of inquiry that feeds into Techxodus is Drexciya, whose myths have informed much recent afrofuturist creativity. DeForrest researches and reimagines the artifacts and stories of Drexciya with new maps, ideas and music, particularly reflecting on the 'Seven Storms', seven albums that came out in quick succession around the death of Drexciya member James Stinson, which seemed to herald Drexciyans in the attack mode. The artwork by Abu Qadim Haqq, who also created artwork for Drexciya, links the work too, with Deforrest re-orienting charts and timelines familiar from Drexciyan mythology, working up clues to all possible environments where Drexciyans could survive, from the depths of the Atlantic, to oceanic islands or even outer space. Like Sun-Ra, another touchstone of Afrofuturist music, it might be that the Drexciyans wanted to leave the planet they hated. With these elements, DeForrest creates a soundtrack for an alternate history, a sort of sci-fi sonic fiction which threads together the sonic warfare and mythos of the Drexciyan records with ideas and references to Ishmael Reed's 'Mumbo Jumbo', which tracks the story of 'Jes Grew', an audio virus, back to the coastal black cities of Alabama and the American South. Musically the album is as intense as its inspirations. DeForrest skilfully hand-plays rhythms which amalgamate trap and jazz drumming, but feel at times like orca-song as they pulse through the thick waves of digital sound. Equally the music evokes the ocean, with deep cold drones, or as if it's floating through time like in 'Holosonic Rebellion' which mixes in recordings of African Warriors. Sometimes there is an energetic turbulence as on 'Jes Grew', where punched-in passages of jazz brass bounce against DeForrest's drums to create a weird disassembled jazz. Towards the end the album begins to feel like a spaceship taking off, the rushes of ascending noise and distortion, distant Southern Gospel Vocals feel like music that's leaving earth. Listen to it without the references or feed your imagination; this is a powerful and immersive original work from one of electronic music's most unique creators.

ORKA is a duo comprising Francine Perry from London and Jens L. Thomsen from the Faroe Islands. They crossed paths in the vibrant club scene of London, an immersive world that had a profound impact on their creative journey. ORKA's music draws inspiration from the Hardcore Continuum and UK sound system culture, blending it with elements of minimal techno, progressive electro, and ambient music, resulting in a diverse range of stylistic influences. Now ORKA emerges with their long-awaited new album. Once again, they greet us with their distinct blend of earthy tones and a bold, adventurous spirit, taking us to a realm bursting with neon-lit hues, pulsating club beats, and an abundance of sensory stimulation. Aptly named "All At Once," the album title provides a clue to the auditory and sensory experience that awaits the listener in this immersive record. ORKA has continuously evolved as a project over many years and iterations, embracing fluidity and a relentless quest for fresh sonic amalgamations. Their journey has been marked by a gradual refinement, stripping away layers to reach the core essentials. This transformative process has unfolded over the years, reaching from their site-specific, cowshed sampling and band-based expedition in "Livandi oyða" (2007) to the bold, innovative exploration of minimalist techno in "Vað" (2016). However, their latest release, "All At Once," signifies yet another remarkable leap forward in their artistic evolution. The seeds of this artistic progression were already planted in previous releases like the <13 EP (2017) and the hard-hitting techno single "Juno" (2018). However, it is with the arrival of the album "All At Once" that ORKA's vision fully blossoms, unveiling a vivid and expansive sonic landscape. This latest offering presents a glorious and vibrant tapestry, showcasing a maximalist approach to techno that pulsates with energy coupled with their signature meticulous attention to sound design, reflecting a deep awareness and intentionality in their creative process. If this album was to be thought of as a place, it would be a shimmering, futuristic, buzzing kind of city with vibrating night-time drizzle from above and endless glowing lights in the distance. Several of the tracks are built around cut-up vocal samples that are divided from their semiotic meanings and reconfigured as loops, and thus mined for their timbral and percussive qualities. Recurring collaborators South London duo LV (Hyperdub, Keysound, Brownswood) are featured on a handful of these tracks, mixing in their complex cocktail of grime and bliss. The result is a sort of queer erotic dance-floor mysticism, and the closest to a full-blown dance record that ORKA have ever made. There must be a club in that shimmering futurist city of the night.. and it is a collective, inclusive and alluring place. There is no need to fear any dancefloor exhaustion by listening to this album though, as there are also moments of floating cyber beauty and pure enveloping warmth to be found among its tracks. As always, following the artistic journey of ORKA is a joyous experience, filled with unexpected twists and turns that keep us captivated.

A.R. Kive collates the three most astonishing works from that most miraculous of duos - A.R. Kane - comprising the ‘Up Home’ EP from 1988 that signified the band’s dawning realisation of their own powers and possibilities, their legendary debut LP ‘sixty nine’ (1988) and its kaleidoscopic, prophetic double-LP follow up ‘i’ (1989).

In founder-member Rudy Tambala’s new remastering, the music on these pivotal transmissions from the birth of dream pop, have been reinvigorated and re-infused with a new power, a new depth and intimacy, a new height and immensity. Vivid, timeless and yet always timely whenever they’re recalled, these records still force any listener to realise that despite the habits of retrospective myth-making and the
safe neutering effects of ‘genre’, thirty years have in no way dimmed how resistant and dissident to critical habits of categorisation A.R. Kane always were. Never quite ‘avant-pop’ or ‘shoegaze’ or ‘post-rock’ or any of those sobriquets designed to file and categorise, A.R. Kive is a reminder that those genres had to be coined, had to be invented precisely to contain the astonishing sound of A.R. Kane, because
previous formulations couldn’t come close to their sui generis sound and suggestiveness. This is music that pointed towards futures which a whole generation of artists and sonic explorers would map out. Now beautifully repackaged, remastered and fleshed out with extensive sleeve notes and accompanying materials, ‘A.R. Kive’ reveals that 35 years on it’s still a struggle to defuse the revolutionary and inspirational possibility of A.R. Kane’s music.

A.R. Kane were formed in 1986 by Rudy Tambala and Alex Ayuli, two second-generation immigrants who grew up together in Stratford, East London. From the off the pair were outsiders in the culturally mixed (cockney/Irish/West Indian/Asian) milieu of the East End, with Alex and Rudy’s folks first generation immigrants from Nigeria and Malawi, respectively. The two of them quickly developed and fostered an innate and near-telepathic mutual understanding forged in musical, literary and artistic exploration. Like a lot of second-generation immigrants, they were ferocious autodidacts in all kinds of areas, especially around music and literature. Diving deep into the music of afro-futurist luminaries such as Sun Ra, Miles Davis, Lee Perry and
Hendrix, as well as devouring the explorations of lysergic noise and feedback from contemporaries like Sonic Youth and Butthole Surfers, they also thoroughly immersed themselves in the alternate literary realities of sci-fi and ancient history (the fascination with the arcane that gave the band their name), all to feed their voracious cultural thirsts and intellectual curiosity.

It was seeing the Cocteau Twins performing on Channel 4 show the Tube that spurred A.R. Kane into being - “They had no drummer. They used tapes and technology and Liz Fraser looked completely otherworldly with those big eyes. And the noise coming out of Robin’s guitar! That was the ‘Fuck! We could do that! We could express ourselves like that!’ moment”, recalls Tambala - and through a mix of
confidence, chutzpah, ad hoc almost-mythical live shows and sheer innocent will the duo debuted with the astonishing ‘When You’re Sad’ single for One Little Indian in 1986. Immediately dubbed a ‘black Jesus & Mary Chain’ by a press unsure of WHERE to put a black band clearly immersed in feedback and noise, what was immediately apparent for listeners was just how much more was going on here - a
tapping of dub’s stealth and guile, a resonant umbilicus back to fusion and jazz, the music less a conjuration of past highs than a re-summoning of lost spirits.
The run of singles and EPs that followed picked up increasingly rapt reviews in the press, but it was the ‘Up Home EP’ released in 1988 on their new home, Rough Trade that really suggested something immense was about to break. Simon Reynolds noted the EP was: Their most concentrated slab of iridescent awesomeness and a true pinnacle of an era that abounded with astounding landmarks of guitar-reinvention, A.R. Kane at their most elixir-like.

If anything, the remastered ‘Up Home’ that forms the first part of ‘A.R. Kive’ is even more dazzling, even more startling than it was when it first emerged, and listening now you again wonder not just about how many bands christened ‘shoegaze’ tried to emulate it, but how all of them fell so far short of its lambent, pellucid wonder. This remains intrinsically experimental music but with none of the frowning orthodoxy those words imply. A.R. Kane, thanks to that second generation auto-didacticism were always supremely aware about the interstices of music and magic, but at the same time gloriously free in the way they explored that connection within their own sound, fascinated always with the creation of ‘perfect mistakes’ and the possibilities inherent in informed play.

‘sixty nine’ the group’s debut LP that emerged in 1988 had
critics and listeners struggling to fit language around A.R. Kane’s sound. As a title it was telling - the year of ‘Bitches Brew’, the year of ‘In A Silent Way’, the erotic möbius between two lovers - and as originally coined by the band themselves, ‘dream pop’ (before it became a free-floating signifier of vague import) was entirely apposite for the music A.R. Kane were making. Crafted in a dark small basement studio in which Tambala recalls the duo had “complete freedom - We wanted to go as far out as we could, and in doing so we discovered the point where it stops being music”. There was an irresistibly dreamy, somnambulant, sensual and almost surreal flow to ‘sixty nine’s sound, but also real darkness/dankness, the ruptures of the primordial and the reverberations of the subconscious, within the grooves of remarkable songs like ‘Dizzy’ and ‘Crazy Blue’. Alex’s plangent vocals floated and surged amidst exquisite peals of refracted feedback but crucially there was BASS here, lugubrious and funky and full of dread, sonic pleasure and sonic disturbance crushed together to make music with a center so deep it felt subcutaneous, music constructed from both the accidental and the deliberate, generous enough to dance with both serendipity and chaos. ‘sixty nine’ remains - especially in this remastered iteration - ravishing, revolutionary.

The final part of this ‘A.R. Kive’ contains 1989’s astonishing double-LP ‘i’ which followed up on ‘sixty nine’s promise and saw the duo fully unleash their experimental pop sensibilities over 26 tracks, plunging the A.R. Kane sound into a dazzlingly kaleidoscopic vision of pop experiment and play. Suffused with new digital technologies and combining searingly sweet and danceable pop with perhaps the duo’s strangest and boundary-pushing compositions, the album did exactly what a great double-set should do - indulge the artists sprawling pursuit of their own imaginations but always with a concision and an ear for those moments where pop both transcends and toys with the listeners expectations. Jason Ankeny has noted that “In retrospect, ‘i’ now seems like a crystal ball prophesying virtually every major musical development of the 1990s; from the shimmering techno of ‘A Love from Outer Space’ to the liquid dub of ‘What’s All This Then?’, from the alien drone-pop of ‘Conundrum’ to the sinister shoegazer miasma of ‘Supervixens’ — it’s all here, an underground road map for countless bands to follow.” Perhaps the most overwhelmingly all-encompassing transmission from A.R. Kane, ‘i’ bookended a three year period in which the duo had made some of the most prophetic and revelatory music of the entire decade.

After ‘i’ the duo’s output became more sporadic with Tambala and Ayuli moving in different directions both geographically and musically, with only 1994’s ‘New Clear Child’ a crystalline re-fraction of future and past echoes of jazz, folk and soul, before the duo went their separate ways. Since then, A.R. Kane’s music has endured, not thanks to the usual sepia’d false memories that seem to maintain interest in so much of the musical past, but because those who hear A.R. Kane music and are changed irrevocably, have to share that universe which A.R. Kane opened up, with anyone else who will listen. Far more than other lauded documents of the late 80s it still sounds astonishingly fresh, astonishingly livid and vivid and necessary and NOW.

For their fourth album, »Bear In Town«, indie avant-pop supergroup Spirit Fest made a virtue of distance, with group members split across Europe, and recording sessions taking place after a brief 2021 tour of Europe. It’s an object lesson in perseverance and commitment, as the music here is some of Spirit Fest’s most moving yet. The six songs on this album illuminate different aspects of the transnational quintet’s character – lovely, heart-rending pop songs; melancholy chants; the joys of simple repetition – with the group’s guitar pop tended by gentle flourishes of piano and electronics.

Some of those flourishes were spirited onto »Bear In Town« across the waves, with Mat Fowler (Bons, Jam Money) contributing from Britain, while the body of the music was recorded in a small apartment studio in Munich by the other members of Spirit Fest: Saya and Ueno (Tenniscoats), Markus Acher (The Notwist) and Cico Beck (Joasinho, Aloa Input). »Bear In Town« is concise and powerful, the infectious joy of the spirit communicated, beautifully, by melodies that balance the heartfelt with the melancholy. Reflecting on those sessions, Acher says, »I think the album captures how well we played together at that time.« It’s all the more impressive given this material was put down live in the studio, with a few vocal overdubs. The depth of feeling at the core of Spirit Fest’s music is evident from the opening notes of »Bear In Town«.

»Kou-Kou Land«, the first song on the album, recalls several earlier Tenniscoats songs, like »Baibaba Bimba«, in the way the musicians weave gentle complexity around a simple, repeated chant; the stop-start structure of »Kou-Kou Land« builds anticipation, while Saya’s simple melody is lovely, delivered in an absent-minded hum that’s deeply affecting. »Lost & Found« revolves around a delightful descending chord change that breaks up the swaying, folksy verses, gorgeous electronic whirrs and purring winds floating through the song. The following »In Our House« possesses such sweet sadness, it’s one of Spirit Fest’s most moving songs yet.

»Like A Plane« repurposes a song that Markus Acher originally wrote and recorded for his solo EP of the same title, released on a 2022 10-inch single on Morr Music. The original was a gentle, introverted lament, but the version on »Bear In Town« has a widescreen tenderness, its melancholy framed by raindrop piano. The album concludes with two moments of playful splendour, the bossa-inflected »Hill Blo«, and the driving title track, both led by Saya, who is in stunning voice on this album; on »Bear In Town«, her awestruck wonder perfectly captures the sense of possibility in the song’s capacious chords. Like the rest of the album, it’s full of kindness, rich with psych-pop splendour… a balm for troubled times.

Boy Harsher, Portishead, Thom Yorke, Radiohead, Beak>, ERAAS, SUUNS. Over the past seven years, Public Memory's distinctive use of analog synthesizers, electronic beats mixed with organic percussion, lo-fi sound design, and gritty ambience has created a singularly eerie and shadowy world. The first seconds of Public Memory's new record, Elegiac Beat, thrust us immediately into that world. We are in media res, with a feeling of sudden movement from a sensible point A to B. Given some time however, we realize that there is something askew–a bit of brightness here, some shadows pushed aside, some jazz and funk amongst the dub and Krautrock. This is an unfamiliar, ambiguous mood that pushes Public Memory towards new ground. We still drift past the clouded lights and hollowed out buildings of previous albums, but with an occasional bounce in our step now, a bit of golden haze around the edges. First single "Savage Grin" cements this clearly. The track has a jazzy, trip-hop flavor, albeit filtered through Public Memory's narcotic, hazy lens. We could be in a hotel lounge in the alps somewhere on holiday, or out of time in a majestic, sparkling ballroom. But we still have the feeling of being haunted, or perhaps even hunted in some way. This feeling intensifies and comes to a head towards the ever-darkening end of the track, leading directly into "Afterimage", in which someone almost imperceptibly sings "I hear them coming" in a twisted, auto-tuned flail. Second single "7 Floor" begins with flanged drums and damaged synthesizer stabs, evoking a kind of apparition floating towards us in the mist. As the track moves on there is, similarly to "Savage Grin", a contrast in feeling between a cold exterior roaming and an interior, warmer, human place. This time however, we move from the colder to the warmer as the synths from the track's beginning make way for a Rhodes-style organ and backing string synth, infusing an unexpected sense of peace. But like "Savage Grin", the track moves to its end through an in-between place beyond the haze. Faded and distant synthesizers meld with voices–human, or perhaps otherwise–that beckon us, or perhaps warn us. We can't be sure which. Third single "Far End Of The Courtyard" brings us closest to classic Public Memory territory with hip-hop beats, chopped and screwed samples, lo-fi ambience, and ghostly electric pianos complementing the vocals. There is darkness, perhaps more here than in the previous two singles, but with a crucial moment of uplifting lightness so subtle it may be missed upon first listen. As an inverse to both "Savage Grin" and "7 Floor" we end with brightness, the jazzier side of the record pushed to the forefront as the track fades away on that golden haze. In the end though, the haze may be just that: a vapor, a mist, a slight dusting of some other world on top of the degraded one Public Memory so effectively portrays. Elegiac Beat is between two places, and as it straddles the line between the two, we are uncertain if the light it brings shines directly from the sun, or if it is dimly reflected through that majestic ballroom world. For fans of 1990s Bristol trip hop, coldwave, and Thom Yorke's The Eraser

Rare Jazz-Funk album from 1978 by Headhunters founder.
Featuring an all-star line-up including Herbie Hancock.
Originally released in 1978 on Tobisha EMI Japan.
First vinyl reissue outside of Japan released in collab w/Totown Records. Comes with double side insert.

Paul Jackson (born in Oakland, California in 1947) needs little introduction. Paul began playing bass at the age of nine and was considered by many of his teachers to be a musical prodigy. Jackson was known as a “Musician’s Musician” and shaped a sound that launched a new direction in contemporary music: the so-called ‘Pulse Playing’, a trademark sound of close-meshed funk grooves combined with sensational rhythms. With this innovative approach, he influenced entire generations of jazz and funk musicians to come. Paul’s compositions were sampled by big acts from the likes of Prince, TLC, Mobb Deep and NWA…just to name a few.

Paul Jackson was a founding member of the Headhunters under Herbie Hancock (THE group responsible for their ground-breaking fusion and jazz-funk compositions that took the world by storm in the 70’s). The solid union between Hancock and Jackson has been especially evident in the many international tours they have made together…not to mention that he participated on most of the Headhunters albums and Herbie’s solo albums.

Paul has also worked as a producer and as a studio/live musician alongside acts such as Santana, Sonny Rollins and The Pointer Sisters. He was a frequent guest performer at renowned international festivals such as the Montreux and Newport events. Jackson’s composing has not gone without recognition and was nominated for Grammy Awards in 1974, 1975 and 1976. Like other highly talented, creatively motivated engineers of music, Paul has expanded his career to other mediums such as playing on blockbuster movie soundtracks such as “Death wish” and “Dirty Harry”.

Paul Jackson also wrote five solo albums worth listening to – including the monster of an album that is known as “Black Octopus” which is considered to be a kind of lost Headhunters album.

His debut album “Black Octopus” saw the light of day in 1978 and is a total piece of art filled with abstract sticky funky grooves, floating electric piano playing, strong thumping bass lines, raw heavy drums and amazing vocal acrobatics (Jackson himself takes vocals in 3 out of 5 songs, and his soulful singing voice strikes an emotional chord that does not go unnoticed).

On “Black Octopus” you’ll also find some of the best all-star musicians from the likes of Alphonse Mouzon (Roy Ayers, Betty Davis, Azar Lawrence)…and last but not least fellow Headhunters Bennie Maupin and Herbie Hancock himself.

With “Black Octopus” Paul Jackson wrote the book on how a jazz-funk-fusion album should sound like. The fact that the album was only distributed in Japan at the time (Jackson resided in Tokyo since the late 70’s, where he passed away in 2021) continues to increase its reputation as an album that is VERY hard to find. This is a must-have gem…not only for fans of jazz, funk and rare grooves, but also for DJs and collectors around the globe.

Selected Songs 1997-2003 compiles some of the finest moments in the recording history of Hydroplane, the Melbourne-based indie-pop three-piece that operated alongside The Cat’s Miaow through the second half of the nineties. It’s the third release in what feels, now, like a loosely planned series by World Of Echo, documenting the music made by this group of friends in Melbourne sharehouses (The Cat’s Miaow’s Songs ’94-’98, 2022), or in the case of The Shapiros (Gone By Fall, 2023), while traversing the International Pop Underground.

Hydroplane would be familiar to anyone already following these breadcrumb trails – Andrew Withycombe, Bart Cummings and Kerrie Bolton were the group’s core, all members of The Cat’s Miaow. With Cat’s Miaow drummer Cameron Smith itinerant, having moved to London, the trio used this opportunity to expand their music. It’s a subtle, but important shift. If The Cat’s Miaow was about the perfect, minimalist, two-minute pop song, Hydroplane’s music was far more open-ended, embracing the loops and drones, sampled house-y shuffle beats, the burbling of a Roland Jupiter-4 synth, all of which the trio joined, effortlessly, to their endless capacity for moving, elegant melodicism.

They may have only planned to release one seven-inch single, but the sound Hydroplane created was so bewitching, so compelling, that the project’s lifespan ran for around half a decade, and they ended up releasing three albums, including a self-titled debut recently reissued by Efficient Space, and seven singles. There are all kinds of compelling things happening in the music compiled here – the hazy repetition of the gentler side of Krautrock is in here, somewhere, which also suggests Stereolab at their most intimate and disarmed; the gently drifting guitars, gauzy and oneiric, set the songs adrift and floating, each one lost in its own imagined, distracted world. Songs like “The Love You Bring” set indistinct tonal floats across dance rhythms, in a way not quite heard since My Bloody Valentine’s “Instrumental” – but with the added gift of Bolton’s gorgeous voice.

This loose coalition with dance music, and the quiet experimentalism at the heart of Hydroplane, also gestures towards peers like Hood, Acetate Zero and Other People’s Children, and releases on renegade labels like Wurlitzer Jukebox and Enraptured. Like those groups and labels, The Cat’s Miaow were reconciling independent pop music’s past – sweet melody and melancholy, chiming and droning guitars – with the futures promised by DIY electronics and nascent digitalia, the interface of indie and IDM that led to some of the underground’s most blissful, texturally swoonsome music. All that is here, but also, the poise of the melodies is pure Cat’s Miaow, though, with Bolton’s voice sailing, pacifically, over some of the most pared-down, gorgeous music made during their decade.

It was a time, too, when such music could make waves – “We Crossed The Atlantic”, one of their early singles, was picked up by John Peel, who played it repeatedly on his legendary radio show, the song reaching #13 on his 1997 Festive 50. That the song itself was a cover of a tune by 1960s Australian beatnik-pop-poet Pip Proud felt even more perfect – a group of outsiders paying tribute to another outsider, played on the radio one of the few broadcasters brave and human enough to take a chance on this music. But it was a time where everything was up for grabs, and genres were flowing into each other: folk songs went drone; indie re-discovered noise; ambient pop floated, again, out onto the dancefloor. And while they may have been sequestered away in Melbourne, Australia, Hydroplane felt core to that scene, a quietly driving force.

Compiling material from across their brief but mercurial career, this double album perfectly captures the magic and mystery of Hydroplane’s dreamlike, perfect pop songs.