Techno Vinyl New Releases

Celebrating Rekids’ 300th release and 20th anniversary, Detroit legend Robert Hood and Rekids boss Matt Edwards aka Radio Slave collaborate for the first time on the double-A side ‘Radio Hood’.

First appearing on Rekids with iconic remixes of Radio Slave’s ‘Don’t Stop No Sleep’ in 2015, followed by Floorplan remixes of ‘Feel The Same’ in 2017, Hood went on to drop two EPs and the critically acclaimed ‘Mirror Man’ LP between 2020 and 2021. Now, a long-gestated collaboration between the two producers arrives as ‘Radio Hood’ complete with an alternative ‘Version’ mix.

While Radio Slave and Robert Hood are best known for a minimalist approach, ‘Radio Hood’ and ‘Radio Hood’ (Version) flip the script with rich, maximalist textures and sweeping synths. The lead track is spacious, with unmistakable and persistent stabs pulsing from start to finish, whilst Version is an indulgent, nine-minute-fifty-two stunner with sweeping, emotive strings, a subtly growling Reece bassline and serious emotional impact.

Here we go with the another vinyl release of Wicked Records.

Remain Records returns on vinyl with an unparalleled release! In Remain 016 Axel Karakasis, presents - a powerful release that is crafted with his characteristic sound and once more unleashes his skills in the Centrepoint EP.

2025 Repress

TM Shuffle teams up with Konstantin Kost to deliver a pair of deep, meticulously crafted tracks designed to transport the listener. Built on sprawling echoes, immersive reverbs, and subtle vocal textures, the duo weaves an ethereal sonic journey that resonates just as powerfully in the intimacy of your living room as it does on a packed dancefloor. On remix duties, Brenno reworks the original samples into a weightier, club-focused weapon. Stripping back the atmosphere in favor of driving dub house sensibilities, he pairs classic drum machine rhythms with crisp, dry dub aesthetics, allowing listeners to sink completely into the duo's heavy basslines. Following TM Shuffle's stellar remix on our fifth release, we are thrilled to welcome him back alongside Konstantin Kost for a release that demands your full attention.

This is the sound of dream Texas, the cinematic Texas conjured in film and 20th century literary and art myth… big dark blueing horizons swallowing the infinite distance, a lonely poetry of sound, but also a stock taker of the iconoclastic, psychedelic, art rebel side of Texas… the cracked rock music side of Texas, the avant-garde in concrete cracks, the recklessly used, mind expanding drugs Texas, the dripping eastern swamps, the Houston house parties with the sounds of records blasting down the block and becoming musique concrète in the hot summer night.

Chrome Chasm’s debut album Interpreter is ambient, minimal in feel, maximal in texture, beautifully disorienting, vastly spacious— until it isn’t. It's a naturalistic shapeshifter, taking majestic form in the aforementioned elements and then dissolving back to raw genetic material to form anew. Spiritual jazz overtones, pedal steel moans and buzzing, noisy ambient visions are upended by grey-folded psychedelic unveilings. Interpreter’s three expansive tracks present a most detailed performance by its three deft musicians and the outcome often feels like a gorgeous collage in real-time.

Chrome Chasm was formed in 2024 by three of Houston’s brightest underground stars: Mlee Marie (Hearts Of Animals) on alto saxophone, flute and voice (whose long-form experimental sax performances helped inspire the formation of the band), Will Adams (Lower Dens/ Ka-Nives) on pedal steel, synth, percussion and voice, and Tom Carter on guitar. Carter has been casting a long shadow over Texas psychedelia and American underground music for over 3 decades, most notably with the Houston based Charalambides, a powerful creative force of the pre-new weird America era of experimental and avant psychedelic music, and most notably since with his solo guitar magnum opus Long Time Underground (which was deemed among the best experimental albums of 2015 by Pitchfork).

Interpreter’s opening track “The Star,” recorded almost completely live in one room and one take, is a 16-minute manifesto on ‘Dream Noir.’ An astute scholar of cross-genre connectivity and the through-lines of kosmische and spiritual-leaning sonic realms can hear echoes of Cluster, the skronk and beauty of Rahsaan Roland Kirk, and the architectural ambient flow of Harold Budd and Philip Glass in the tidal lapping of distorted guitar, mantra-like saxophone and pedal steel flow. From its deconstructed, pastoral opening moments to its proto-electronic center that crests into a bombastic polytonal climax, Chrome Chasm never neglect narrative arc for experimentation and avant technique. In fact, as a group, they effortlessly control, open, fill and contract space in abeyance to emotional vibration. “The Star,” and indeed the album as a whole, feels more like a communion or extended poem, in direct communication with the listener, than it does a ‘captured experience.’

Across the three longform tracks of Interpreter, Chrome Chasm conducts a masterclass in fusing real time performance energy with an abstract, cut-up master’s reimagining of the literal. They demand the listener meet their music with dream logic and then, like the best dream peddlers, they present a labyrinth to fall into and experience, a place where explanation and conclusion become obsolete, and engagement and immersion become sublime.

A quick scan of the world’s favourite crowdsourced discography reveals that Sonic Youth co-founder Lee Ranaldo was not a total stranger to crackling electric experimentation in the years following his songwriting turns of the 20-teens. Yet »The System«, ingeniously culled and sequenced from Ranaldo’s soundtrack work for Dutch filmmaker Joris Postema’s ›eco-doc‹ of the same name, nonetheless feels like a reawakening. Quietly released in a vastly different (and much more ›filmic‹) form by Doxy Music/Riva Media Records in 2025, this LP reimagines and reconfigures the initial release, including unreleased material written and recorded for the film, to lend it new stature as both a return to drone-improv form and a reunion with introspective Downtown angst.

Given the state of the world, it’s not surprising that the film Ranaldo scores – a documentary on three climate activists bruising their fists on the black iron prison of techno-fascist deathkultur – is a study in despair and futility. But rather than wallowing in navel-gazing doom and gloom, the film documents the unstoppable spirit that has animated human resistance since the time of the Pharaohs.

As it turns out, the gorgeous scope of Lee Ranaldo’s guitar palette is a perfect manifestation of the hope and despair that animates the film. But like other high-water marks in the guitar-centric soundtrack canon – the high plains raga of Bruce Langhorne’s »Hired Hand«, Neil Young’s sparse and ghostly solo transmissions on »Dead Man«, or the monolithic mantras of Popol Vuh’s »Nosferatu« – its devotion to spectral gestures and meditative song forms launches it firmly outside of the OST orbit into a universe fully its own.

It might seem like a long journey from the Lower Manhattan rhythmic grime of the album’s opener »Tajikistan (Nice to Meet You)« (reminiscent of guitar opuses like Robert Quine and Jody Harris’s »Escape«) to the ringing cowboy chords of the final track, but the narrative logic of the LP pulls the listener along as solidly as a pack horse. As the LP unwinds, and collaborators like Jim Jarmusch, cellist Leila Boudreil, Yeah Yeah Yeahs snare shaman Brian Chase, and guitarist Yonatan Gat take their places, new vistas unfurl: the ritualistic thrum of »Berlin Blockade«, the haunted overtone palaces of »Bergelmir«, and the cavernous acoustic strumming of »Instruments of Violence«. It all winds up with the high lonesome standard »Cool Water«, each unhurried note trailing off into long-tail reverb, layers of shifting vocal harmonies pulling everything skyward – a hopeful note in an album where existential dread never lurks too deeply below the surface.

In the end, »The System« functions both as a film score and a hallucinatory (mostly) instrumental guitar record, revealing a sensibility not too often spotted in the 21st century – a liminal space where the song, the jam, and the meditation merge into a blurred whole. »The System«’s expansive fabric, emerging from a collective sound circling around Ranaldo’s signature tones, envelops and ampl amplifies the contributions of its community of creators – the perfect antidote to narcissistic despair. Much like the subjects of the film light the way towards intra-generational resistance, the music of »The System« reveals a path through gathering darkness. The world could be yours if you follow.

– Tom Carter

»Pipe Dreams II & III« presents two new, side-long organ works by Mary Jane Leach, extending the sonic investigations of her 1989 landmark »Pipe Dreams«. Recorded in Ghent and Cologne, the two side-long pieces use shifting stops, resonance and beating tones to turn the pipe organ into a vivid, physical field of sound.

When »Pipe Dreams« was issued on vinyl for the first time by Blume in 2017, it was effectively the first time many of us encountered Mary Jane Leach’s music, finally placing her work in its proper historical context amid the searching Downtown milieu of Julius Eastman, Arthur Russell, Arnold Dreyblatt, Ellen Fullman, Philip Corner, Daniel Goode, and Peter Zummo. Leach collaborated with most of these artists at one point or another, either in Downtown Ensemble or as a guest on their records.

Now »Pipe Dreams II« and »Pipe Dreams III« arrive, recorded in 2023 and 2024 at Miry Concertzaal in Ghent, Belgium, and Kunst-Station Sankt Peter in Cologne, respectively.

»When I was a young child, my family lived next door to a church, where my mother was the organist. I spent many hours lying on the floor of the sanctuary listening to the music, letting the sound of the organ envelop me. I also liked to play the piano loudly with the pedal down, producing clouds of sound, much to my family’s annoyance. These two organ pieces explore some of my earliest musical interests and aesthetics.

In 1989, I lived in a tower attached to St Peter’s Church in Cologne, where I had access to its organ. It had two sets of pipes, front and back, which could create antiphonal effects. I spent countless hours exploring the possibilities of all the permutations of notes, space, and the resulting sound phenomena. I wrote »Pipe Dreams« for that organ. Fast forward to 2023, when I was asked to create a piece for organ for a concert at the Miry Concertzaal in Ghent, Belgium: »Pipe Dreams II«. I had a few days to familiarise myself with the organ, its available stops, and the layout of the console. I choreographed stop changes for a volunteer, as I couldn’t reach them myself. Some amazing sounds began to happen, and at one point the sound was so visceral that I felt as though I were taming a wild beast.

»Pipe Dreams III« was performed in 2024 on the organ that I had spent so much time playing in 1989–90. One big difference, though, was that the console was totally new and computerised. Having access to the organ for only a few hours before the concert, I decided that I did not have enough time to feel comfortable with the console and should not attempt to recreate the piece I had written in 1989. I would instead use the same sequence of stops and perform an improvised piece. I loved the sounds that were being created, and I was having so much fun that at one point I even started to laugh quietly. I began to visualise the beating notes as if they were atoms, opening them up to expose their innards, with the beating, higher-pitched notes — neutrons and protons — shimmering at the top, and the lower notes — the electrons — throbbing away at the bottom. I was playing notes not so much for their pitch value, but for how they affected the notes and sound phenomena already being played. Instead of a time signature, I timed the entries by listening to the beating patterns, waiting for the right moment to enter. And no, I wasn’t hallucinating.«

Mary Jane Leach, 2026

With the stunning Planes In Reverse, Sascha Funke, the Berlin-born producer and DJ, and long-time member of the Kompakt family, releases his first album in almost a decade, since 2017’s Lotos Land. It’s a welcome return for one of the most eloquent and elegant producers in electronic and dance music, someone who’s always been able to say more with less, and the ten tracks here, moving effortlessly between techno, house, minimalism, disco house, and home listening tunes, are all gorgeously sculpted miniatures. With guest appearances from partner Julienne Dessagne (Fantastic Twins), with whom Funke has also worked in Saschienne, there’s something homely and family about it, too; a family of sounds, a home of tone. There’s also something consummate about Planes In Reverse, as though Sascha Funke has perfected the album format. There’s no flab here, no excess – it plays out like a perfectly designed experience, ten tracks, coming in under fifty minutes, an album where every moment matters.

It’s full of variety, but everything has the unmistakable Funke thumbprint, one that was developed during the late ‘90s / early ‘00s minimal techno and microhouse moment, but which was always open to other ideas and other sounds, too. Planes In Reverse came together quickly for Funke: “Last winter, I had two or three new tracks, which gave me a core feeling: ‘Ah, this could be the direction of something like an album.’ Sometimes it can be very easy that you wrap it up and then it becomes something coherent and solid. This happened within two or three months; it was very fast and direct.” Everything fell into place – the ten tracks revealed themselves, the album sat together as a whole, and the final piece of the puzzle was returning home again to Kompakt, who have supported Sascha Funke from the very start, releasing his first single, “Campus”, back in 1999.

Planes In Reverse opens stealthily with “What You See”, where rhythms percolate and bass prowls while gaseous textures fill the sonic spectrum. It’s also the first appearance of Fantastic Twins on the album; here, she speaks a hypnotic mantra, a prelude to the title track, where Dessagne has a pure pop moment, her voice ecstatic and vibrant. Indeed, Planes In Reverse plays out like thesis and antithesis ending in synthesis, the tracks nestling next to each other even as they shuttle between sounds, genres, perspectives. There are some beautiful moments dropped throughout Planes In Reverse – the heavenly textures that make the title track feel so cloud-bound; the glassy and orbital tones that drop from the skies through the disco house inspired “Karat”; the clamour and clatter of hyper-edited voices shuffling through “Splitter”; or the field recordings of Sascha’s son football training session that drop “Zockers” into a different place and space, slowly giving way to a beautifully paced electro-pop mantra. “In Germany,when the kids play a computer game, or when they play football, we describe it as zocken. They’re the players, they’re the Zockers.“ Funke explains.

Planes In Reverse winds down with the beautiful “Kruso”, where ticklish, loving arpeggios careen around the room, and drift-work chords shimmer and shuttle between your ears. It’s a perfect comedown to an album that feels breathes in and out at an organic pace, nothing above 130 BPM, everything sitting together just so. Indeed, that’s the feeling you take away from Planes In Reverse; it sums up the spirit of Sascha Funke productions perfectly, while also existing beautifully as its own world dreamt unto itself. It’s Sascha Funke down to the very essence. Nothing unnecessary, nothing extraneous: Pure Funke.

Secret Society is catnip for all the cool cat minimal and tech heads scattered across the global underground and here they mark their first decade in the game with a whopping great big triple album V/A comp that celebrates in style. The label works with exciting talents both old and new, and their 20th outing is the first in a new series, Discipline of Time, featuring six sides of beats. Delphie warps space and time with a lithe, bendy, liquid minimal dub tech twister; Marceline taps into airy, dubby space tech on 'Sale Jugando' and Rh Cher's 'Gwen' (Edward Desert version) is a weird late-night ritual with paranoid voices belting in from the edges. Rhadoo closes with a classic Villalobos-era minimal gem that is wonderfully sparse but for warped lines and abstract FX. "Time is one of our most valuable resources, and how we choose to spend it shapes what we create and who we become" says the label. You could do far worse than spending your time listening and/or dancing to this.

Saag is back with his 3rd Modwerks EP, stronger than ever and with a sublime accompanying remix from the very talented, fellow Brazilian Marcal.

Dive into the ultra deep field with the fourth release by Alphawaves.
A0910EP showcases Alphawaves' characteristic ability to fuse the organic and the synthetic into a cohesive, hypnotic whole. Across two tracks, a subtle but insistent surge of energy powers both dancefloors and hi-fidelity systems. Dubby and repetitive yet undeniably playful, a sound that feels both intimate and expansive. A sonic space rooted in past, present, and future, echoing far beyond the moment.

2 classic HMC cuts taken from the 1992 Science Funktion & 1995 Southern Cross EP’s respectively, focussing on HMC’s deeper house style, an essential release for collectors and DJs alike.

Both tracks will cost yo

Intergalactic lazurite alien roses

Electrumos is said to be a lost continent hidden somewhere on Earth. Some believe it lies beneath the surface, others claim it drifts invisibly through the atmosphere or exists between different layers of time. Despite countless attempts, nobody has ever managed to locate it.
On this EP, pdqb becomes the first known traveller to access Electrumos, intercepting and decoding the mysterious electromagnetic transmissions emanating from within.
He transforms these signals into irresistible electro-cognitive frequency patterns.
Featuring remodels by dynArec and DMX Krew, along with artwork by John Armleder.

Compiled onto one vinyl album for the first time, Landlocked (Numbers, 2026) presents Hallucinator’s 1999 debut album originally released under Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald’s label Chain Reaction. Writing much surrounding the culture of what would be later considered ‘Dub Techno’ and its’ primary distribution center, Hard Wax, leads one down roads of shifting primary sources and decades old overheard smoke break recollections. Maybe brevity primes the listener to the paralinguistic to approach the sound on its terms; focusing on how things are uttered and not what.

This theory will remain unconfirmed. Hallucinator original press release left us with three or so gestures to consider over the years since:

“A new act on CHAIN REACTION”s distinct productional thesis. HALLUCINATOR are 3 people from he UK/London and this their first release ever- that’s all what the artists want to let us know…. This record is dedidacted to the memory of Stephen Lawrence!”

The first gesture is one of personnel. Since ’99, we’ve gotten to learn a bit more about the artists behind the Hallucinator project. All London-based, all writers, composers, and sound-designers— Anna Piva, Edward George, Trevor Mathison. These three seem to flow between parameters as aesthetic tactic and tacit structure to the work itself. For example, other collaborative shapes have come from this lineup including Flow Motion (Piva, George and Mathison) as well as the now defunct Black Audio Film Collective of which George and Mathison are founding members.

The second gesture is in the second line of the previous press release, “distinct productional thesis.” Much of Landlocked’s affect and sequencing seems to suggest an emotional study of entropy at the level of sediment. Rhythms play with space and capacity through polyvalence. The production chose subtractive vertigo, often switching and bringing back in elements that vanished from the track 6 minutes ago. Dubbing out so much of a track, one begins to associate sound akin to memories held in the experience of running your hand across a concrete block as a child. Felt (re)memberance in lieu of narrative tale. Using textures that flicker between colour and percussion, Hallucinator’s 12-tracker of loudspeaker perception music might be a mediation on the psychic wake of the Cold War. Intermittent strata of ambience and groove convects an active margin rifting event underneath a scorched geology of power in Western Europe. Again, this is all grapevine hearsay.

But it’s silence that voices the third gesture. The album’s sparse application of the written word touches on the ennui paradox of being landlocked on an island. Stuck. Trapped in the psychosis of occidental hypercentricism. A looping silence of Black British tragedy: “to the memory of Stephen Lawrence”. 18 year-old Lawrence was stabbed to death at a bus stop in southeast London by six white men in 1993. The rift of grief and implicit reiteration of modern subordination left by this hate act went legally silent for almost two decades until Lawrence’s killers were ultimately sentenced to virtually life in jail in 2012. Only six years removed at the time of Hallucinator’s initial invocation of rememory, the mind-numbing accretion of what Black Studies Professor Denise Ferreira da Silva might call “unpayable debt”, finds demonic ground across Landlocked, forming an aural sense of what continues to be refused.

The album ventures through spaces of overactive non-happenings: ‘Red Angel’’s factory floor dub flashes between smokestack and jungle visions, or the halfway mark’s stilted breath of ‘Dusk’ lending its mood to the sort of sedated dreams built from daily life under colony rule for instance. That linked rhythm links us back to our linked fates across Black and Brown folk is real, thus the syncopated signals through this work behave on the level of transnational radiotelegraphy, sounding out its windswept tension of a body negotiating a meat-grinder schema of linear production and wage for others to know that unspeakable thing can be broadcast in every drum tongue.

As the silence continues to reverb, we return to the sort of meaning-making that cannot be told but felt. Soothing to some, disturbing to others. Landlocked, a Rorschach test for a crumbled empire.

D. Diggler joins the Kontakt family with two smoked-out dub techno cuts, drifting through hazy chords, submerged delays and weighty low-end motion. On remix duties, Per Hammar turns in a deep and hypnotic remix, true to the sound of his release on Dirty Hands and Sushitech. Limited coloured vinyl.

Enter the Circle. Begin the Ritual.