Suche:make them suffer

Greyscale Records is proud to announce Make Them Suffer's debut album Neverbloom, pressed for the first time on vinyl. Over ten years after it's release, the album still stands up as one of the most respected deathcore releases ever, with songs like Widower and the title track still being fan favourites in the band's set.

Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.

Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.

Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.

Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.

By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.

Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.

Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.

For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.

The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.

Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”

The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.

Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.

Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.

The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.

‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”

The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”

Furniture is British new wave band active between 1979 and 1991, but were far more eclectic than you'd think, incorporating jazz, blues and post-punk sounds as well. They are noted both for their poetic storytelling and high-quality productions as for the numerous setbacks they experienced. These setbacks ultimately prevented them from making their big break, making them a big what-if of the burgeoning English new wave scene.

Although active since the late 70s, their 1986 debut album The Wrong People gave them their commercial breakthrough. It was supported by the single Brilliant Mind which eventually reached #21 on the UK Singles Chart and remains their only entry on it. They followed it up with a re-recording of their 1984 single Love Your Shoes. Although a radio hit, it ultimately failed to chart as not enough copies were pressed to match demand.

The album ultimately suffered from the same fate which means there are not a lot of copies floating around. In recent years it became a cult classic so we thought it would be fitting to reissue it on vinyl for the first time since its initial release in 1986.

The Wrong People is available as a 40th anniversary edition on orange vinyl, and includes an insert with lyrics.

When asked about the founding fathers of German thrash metal, band names such as Kreator, Sodom, and Destruction come to mind. Perhaps even Tankard. The name Living Death is usually not among them. There is a simple reason for this. Similar to the Swiss band Hellhammer, Living Death from Velbert were simply a tad too extreme for most fans and the press. Thorsten “Toto” Bergmann's truly shrill vocals and the poor production of the first two (legendary) albums did not make it easy for the public to adequately assess the band's musical significance. Living Death was founded in 1981 by the two Kelch brothers, Reiner on guitar and Dieter on bass. In the early days, guest drummer Eric sat behind the drums. The line-up was completed by Frank Fricke on second guitar and the aforementioned singer Thorsten “Toto” Bergmann. Living Death recorded their first demo with three tracks in 1981, which earned them a deal with the Belgian label Mausoleum Records. A year later, their debut album “Vengeance of Hell” was released, which actually suffered from its very thin (and treble-heavy) production (in 1985, the record was re-released as a remix – with slightly improved results). However, the below-average production should not obscure the fact that “Vengeance of Hell” offers a few timeless thrash metal classics with “My Victim,” “Heavy Metal Hurricane,” “Hellpike,” and the title track “Vengeance of Hell.” The raw, unpolished sound of Living Death sounds more contemporary than ever today, 30 years after its initial release. This only proves that it took the music world three decades to catch up with Living Death.

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

Nicaraguan-American artist Dagmar Zuniga makes music that feels both intimate and expansive: songs drift like disrupted signals, carried by harmony, tape hiss, and a strong sense of touch. Her debut solo album in filth your mystery is kingdom / far smile peasant in yellow music — written and recorded in New York, Norway, and Athens, Georgia over a period of five years on her longtime companion, the Tascam 424 — was uploaded to Bandcamp and YouTube in January 2025, quickly garnering over two hundred thousand views and the attention of artists such as Mount Eerie, who invited her to tour with them that summer. This year, what was once a jewel of tapped-in algorithms and message boards will meet the world at large, with in filth arriving digitally on March 4, and physically on April 10, via AD 93.

in filth is an atmospheric, devotional collage where one voice multiplies into a chorus of selves, sometimes delicate, sometimes severe; an effect created by Zuniga’s masterful layering of texture and complex harmonies. Synths glitter out like spears of sunlight from beneath clouds of moody, time-distorted guitars, and songs spin about themselves like tightly-wound music boxes, making use of a kind of hypnotic repetition, before melting apart into their components or slipping into the following track.

Zuniga began recording to tape as a teenager, drawn to the physicality of the medium — how a tape recording is fragile, mutable, and alive. Though her ethereal sound may draw easy comparisons to other female pioneers of psychedelic folk, she is influenced just as much by the darker sounds of Syd Barrett and The Fall. Like Barrett, Zuniga is a painter, and she is interested not only in recording music but in creating a full, self-contained artistic universe: she creates her own artwork, merchandise, music videos, and bootleg tapes of new and unfinished music that she exclusively sells at live shows (“If something is not material, it does not exist,” she insists). Her world has not gone unvisited, garnering her a monthly show on NTS Radio ‘World of Pain’, as well as a forthcoming appearance at Rewire Festival in April 2026.

Though Zuniga’s work explores themes of solitude and suffering, the suffering in her songs is not borrowed or displayed; it is held, then opened outward through empathy — an exacting practice of attention that insists on shared ground. Solitude, in her work, is not withdrawal but a starting point for connection. Likewise, over time, her recording process has become increasingly communal, with in filth featuring musicians Hayes Hoey, Austyn Wohlers (Tomato Flower), and Zach Phillips (Fievel Is Glauque). Newer recordings widen the circle even more. For Zuniga, collaboration is a way to “find a place between worlds,” echoing Badiou’s idea of love as a vision refracted through the prism of difference. Meaning emerges there — in the space between voices, between artist and listener. “I hope my music helps people work through difficult experiences,” she says. “The same way it helps me.”

But, in the summer of 2024, a personal tragedy changed everything. Michael and Lou lost their six-year-old granddaughter, Bebe, in the Southport attacks in July that year, and, as much as they tried to carry on and make a My Darling Clementine album, with the weight of so much sadness and grief bearing down on them, it just didn't feel the right thing to do. The tragic events of summer 2024 not only changed the music they were making and the songs they were writing, it also altered their outlook on life. Recognising that everyone's grief is individual even that of a husband and wife Michael and Lou needed to channel their suffering via their own individual creativity and in their own way, rather than in collaboration, so they worked on two solo albums. Michael's "Nothing Can Hurt Me Anymore" is the first of the two to be released.

An album the defies genre, it is simply his instinctive musical reaction to the events of summer 2024. Michael writes "To be honest, it was impossible to write about anything else. It overwhelmed everything. I hope I am now creatively exhausted on the subject, but I think it will affect my writing forever, just as indeed, the loss of Bebe will". It features eleven brand new MWK songs Partly recorded in rural Wales and partly in not so rural Sheffield, "Nothing Can Hurt Me Anymore"was produced by Michael, along with wunderkind Clovis Phillips, and the brilliant Colin Elliot, who also mixed the album.

DOODSESKADER clearly haven’t had enough of redefining boundaries – they’ve only just gotten started. Tim De Gieter and Sigfried Burroughs return on April 3rd, 2026 with their third full-length album, The Change Is Me, a rollercoaster that can only be described as the unstable lovechild between witch house, hip-hop, industrial dream pop, and stadium rock that can’t decide if it wants to watch the world burn or shout from the rooftops that we need to save it. Their combination of grungy 90s melodies with distorted synths, sludgy bass, hard tuned vocals, rapping, singing, and explosions of undiluted rage at the current state of the world leave you wondering just exactly what it was you smoked last night, and if it was too much or not enough. The Change Is Me is an album that grabs you by the arm and asks if you’re ready to go on a grand adventure, then pulls you into its chaos before you can say “yes” or “no.”

Tim and Sigfried aren’t just breaking the boundaries between genres; they’re breaking out of their own Year cycle, a path they had laid out for themselves at the band’s inception in 2020. Up until now, the duo had set out to document their “journey to getting better” through writing one album each year: Year Zero (2020), Year One (2022), and most recently Year Two (2024). After spending eight months throughout 2024 and 2025 writing, recording, producing and mixing Year Three, the band scrapped the finished record entirely. Playing shows while simultaneously navigating the process of mixing Year Three created a sort of disconnect – the people that they were when they wrote that record and the people that playing shows made them become were no longer one and the same. “We’re people with faults and strengths, and we realized we needed to accept it. That’s equal parts bleak and liberating. If you’re so focused on self-improvement, you can’t even applaud yourself for how far you’ve come,” the band explains. “This project is meant to be a document of us and of the human condition, not a self-improvement handbook designed to keep us all stuck on what may or may not have happened to us or because of us in the past.”

DOODSESKADER chose instead to embark anew on a week-long creative journey in Tim’s own Much Luv Studio with one goal in mind: to make an album that captures who they are right now. Finally writing everything together in the same room for the first time in years, the process of bringing "The Change Is Me" to life was captured by Diana Lungu in their latest documentary, "Now I Know You See Me", out December 2nd, 2025.

"The Change Is Me" marks the beginning of DOODSESKADER’s shift into a more positive era, both musically and conceptually. Over the course of the 40-minute record we hear the two friends unite in a fight against a world that grows more and more disappointing, a concept made crystal clear in tracks like “Celebrity Culture Simp Farm,” “It Keeps On Stinging,” and of course the album’s epic closer “Suffering In Technicolor.” While their previous albums saw them trying to outrun their pasts and arrive at a better version of themselves, here the search for some external or internal revelation that will “make them better” is no more. It’s been replaced by the realization that change isn’t something we force: it’s gradual, and more importantly, it’s something that’s already there – we just need to reach out and accept it.

The band’s live appearances over the last several years have been instrumental in shaping their ideology. On stage is where the duo find connection; not only with the audience, but also with each other. Their sold-out release shows at Ancienne Belgique (2022) and VierNulVier (2024) have proven that they are one of Belgium’s must-see acts. Abroad, their energy has translated into a month-long EU/UK tour with French band Alcest in 2024, as well as appearances at festivals such as Roadburn Festival (NL), Eurosonic (NL), Hellfest (FR), Mystic Fest (PL), Jera On Air (NL), ArcTanGent (UK), Fluff Fest (CZ) and more.

"The Change Is Me" is out April 3rd, 2026 on DOODSESKADER’s own label, 45 Records.

Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.

For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.

The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.

Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”

The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.

Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.

Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.

The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.

‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”

The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”

Die japanische Metalcore-Band Crystal Lake wird ihr neuestes Album "The Weight of Sound" über Century Media Records veröffentlichen. Das Quintett ist seit langem ein bekannter Name in der internationalen Metalcore-Szene. Mit Einflüssen sowohl aus dem Metalcore als auch aus dem Hardcore verschmilzt ihr Sound die Intensität beider Genres zu einem einzigartig schweren und mitreißenden Stil, der besonders bei ihren elektrisierenden Live-Auftritten zum Tragen kommt. Während die Band intensiv auf Tour war, wurde das erste Stück ihres neuesten Albums, "BlüdGod" (feat. Taylor Barber), bereits im Mai 2024 veröffentlicht.

Die aus Japan stammende Band hat sich eine globale Fangemeinde aufgebaut, tourt weltweit und gewinnt durch ihre kraftvolle und energiegeladene Musik an Zugkraft. Das Quintett, das seine Musik in englischer Sprache veröffentlicht, hat es geschafft, sich im Laufe der Jahre eine internationale Fangemeinde aufzubauen und seit 2002 insgesamt 6 Alben zu veröffentlichen.

Ihr neuestes Album, "The Weight of Sound'", ist weniger von bestimmten Aspekten inspiriert als vielmehr eine Reflexion über die Reise der Band und ihre Lebensweise im Laufe ihrer Geschichte, wie Gründer YD erzählt: "Bevor ich es realisiert habe, war Crystal Lake 23 Jahre lang aktiv. Die Leute sagen oft: "Die Zeit vergeht wie im Flug", aber die Wahrheit ist, dass wir eine lange Geschichte mit Freunden, Bandkollegen und anderen Musikern aufgebaut haben, die Blut, Schweiß und unzählige Kämpfe geteilt haben, um diese Band aufzubauen. Das ist eine unbestreitbare Tatsache und mein Stolz. Jede Note, die wir spielen, wird zur Harmonie, und diese Harmonie wird zur Musik. Diese Musik gemeinsam mit Kameraden zu spielen, das macht eine Band aus. Und die Musik, die eine Band macht, kann eine neue Kultur hervorbringen. Unser neues Album 'The Weight of Sound' ist ein Spiegelbild dieser Lebensweise."

Das Gefühl von Gemeinschaft und Zusammengehörigkeit spiegelt sich auf dem Album auch in den verschiedenen Beiträgen wider, an denen die Band mitgearbeitet hat - vom Eröffnungstrack "Everback" feat. David Simonich von Signs of The Swarm bis hin zum düsteren, aber verführerischen "Dystopia", bei dem Jesse Leach von Killswitch Engage mitwirkt. Mit "BlüdGod" (feat. Taylor Barber), das ursprünglich im Mai 2024 veröffentlicht wurde, spiegelt das Album eine ziemlich lange Reise und einen langen Entstehungsprozess wider, der das Warten für Fans und neue Hörer gleichermaßen wert war. Gemischt und gemastert von Jeff Dune (Knocked Loose, Make Them Suffer, Currents), enthält "The Weight of Sounds" alle Elemente der Härte und bleibt dabei den rohen Emotionen, die die Band in ihren Texten ausdrückt, treu. Mit insgesamt 11 Tracks wird "The Weight of Sound" von Crystal Lake sicherlich schwer sein - musikalisch und emotional.

“Innovative, hooky and full of depth” - Far Out Magazine

“Songs that lodge into your brain in the opening ten seconds” - Brooklyn Vegan

“Breezy, melodic… a clear ear for a hook” - UNCUT

“Playful and unexpected, emotional but not overstated” - CLUNK

‘Crows’ is the new single from Bristol’s Langkamer and the first to be revealed from their new album ‘No’, which is due for release on 22nd January 2026. Their fourth album in as many years, ‘No’ saw the prolific band taking to the mountains at the invitation of veteran producer Remko Schouten (Pavement, Personal Trainer, Bull). The much loved Bristol band holed up for a week in the wilds of Southern Spain at his brand new Zarzalico studio. Over a week, under the Murcian heat, they laid down the perfectly formed eleven tracks that make up ‘No’.

Since the band’s conception, Langkamer have worked out of anywhere affordable and available, whether it be the basements of renowned venues (‘West Country’, ‘Red Thread Route’, ‘Langzamer’) or secluded cottages (‘The Noon And Midnight Manual’). Over the years, their frenetic pace and quality of writing has earned them fans across the world, plaudits at UK media, and built an ever-growing musical community around them - not least via Breakfast Records - the independent label that is home to Getdown Services - formed by Langkamer’s Dan Anthony and Josh Jarman in 2006 alongside acclaimed singer-songwriter Jasmine 4.T.

To call Langkamer ‘your mid-level indie bands favourite mid-level indie band” sells them short. They have always scraped by on irregular incomes, plagued both by daily financial pressures and the occasional cash sinkhole so well known to any musician in the current impossible climate. Once Schouten offered to host them at his new studio (Zarzalico), they couldn’t refuse. A relentless recording schedule found the group only breaking for the daily long lunch and to occasionally fire an airgun across the hills. If the last half a decade had been a pressure cooker of constant touring and recording, their brief time in the remote Zarzalico could not have been more symbolic. Lead single ‘Crows’ perfectly captures this nervy balance and is a wiry slice of atmospheric proto-punk, drawing from the shadows of the late-70s UK landscapeit also defies these conventions, striking an anthemic chord from beginning to end. From the scaling chromatic guitars at the breakdown, to the final chants of ‘suffer’ and ‘struggle’, there’s a loud desperation and defiance to ‘Crows’ that lends it an unparalleled urgency. As singer/drummer Josh Jarman states:

“Crows is a song about the crazy shapes we contort ourselves into trying to create art in the era of late-stage capitalism. Working a thousand jobs. Writing songs with the left hand while writing emails with the right hand. Your day is already doomed the moment you open your eyes. Everything’s a bad omen.”.

With ‘No’ arriving early next year, ‘Crows’ is the perfect introduction to Langkamer, a band that has only taken new bold steps with each release, always hiding a keen experimentalism behind a charming hook. It is also the surest sign yet that they are ready to step up, and take on the road once again vision unclouded.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves.Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl's newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single "Not Hell, Not Heaven" outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. "It's about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim," explains vocalist Kat Moss. "It's trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain't working for me." The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on "Fantasy." "It's incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated," Moss says. "`Fantasy' is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard." The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, "Are We All Angels," asking questions like, "Is this all there is?" and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. "It's about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn't matter how `good' or `bad' you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do," explains Moss, noting that punctuation on "Are We All Angels" has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl's debut, 2021's How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record's sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called "Seeds to Sow," that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. "It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we're fulfilling that," says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023's widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next.Scowl's growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band's scope. "Will would say, `Everything you have here is correct, but it's in the wrong place,'" says Gilbert. Moss adds: "Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses." But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. "Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate," says guitarist Malachi Greene. "At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes."

Ali Farka Touré trekked the world, bringing his beloved Malian music to the masses. Dubbed “the African John Lee Hooker,” one could hear strong connections between the two; both employed a bluesy style of play with gritty textures that elicit calm and fury in equal measure. While the influence of Black blues music prevailed, Touré created a West African blend of 'desert blues' that garnered Grammy awards and widespread reverence. Though he transcended in 2006, Ali’s musical legacy lives on through his son, Vieux aka “the Hendrix of the Sahara,” an accomplished guitarist and champion of Malian music in his own right. On Ali, his collaborative album with Khruangbin, Vieux pays homage to his father by recreating some of his most resonant work, putting new twists on it while maintaining the original’s integrity. The result is a rightful ode to a legend. Ali isn’t just a greatest hits compilation. It’s a lullaby, a remembrance of Ali's life through known highlights and B-sides from his catalog. It is a testament to what happens when creativity is approached through open arms and open hearts. “To me, music is magic, it is spontaneous, it is the energy between people,” Vieux says. “I think Khruangbin understands this very well.” The genesis of the album dates back to 2019, when Khruangbin, coming off their breakthrough album Con Todo el Mundo, was beginning to play to bigger crowds. The record was finished in 2021, as a global pandemic shuttered businesses and forced us to take stock of what Earth was becoming. Indirectly, Ali captures this as a moment of peace within a raging storm, a conversation between past and present without allegiance to suffering. Now, given Khruangbin’s reach as a unit with legions of fans (including the likes of Jay-Z and Paul McCartney), they’re poised to bring Malian music to broader groups of listeners. Ali is a masterful work in which the love surrounding it is just as vital as the music itself, driving it to unforeseen places; Vieux and Khruangbin are spreading the good word to a completely new generation. “I hope it takes them somewhere new, or puts them in a place they haven't felt or heard,” Lee says. “It is about the love of new friendship and making something beautiful together,” Vieux continues. “It is about pouring your love into something old to make it new again. In the end and in a word it is love, that's all.”

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Scowl is a band that sounds exactly like their name implies. Venomous, fierce, antagonistic. A sneer not to be crossed. Over the last five years, the Santa Cruz, California, band has firmly planted their flag in the hardcore scene with their vicious sound and ripping live show, sharing stages around the world with Circle Jerks, Touché Amoré, and Limp Bizkit, and filling slots at prominent festivals like Coachella, Sick New World, and Reading and Leeds. But with their new album, Are We All Angels (Dead Oceans), Scowl is aiming to funnel all that aggression through a more expansive version of themselves. Much of Are We All Angels grapples with Scowl’s newfound place in the hardcore scene, a community which has both embraced the band and made them something of a lightning rod over the past few years. Standout single “Not Hell, Not Heaven” outright rejects the narratives cast onto them by outsiders. “It’s about feeling victimized and being a victim, but not wanting to identify with being a victim,” explains vocalist Kat Moss. “It’s trying to find grace in the fact that I have my power. I live in my reality. You have to deal with whatever you're dealing with, and it ain’t working for me.” The band breaks from a sense of disassociation to seek deeper connections on “Fantasy.” “It’s incredibly challenging to try to balance my love for the scene while also feeling, in some spaces, extremely alienated and hated,” Moss says. “‘Fantasy’ is about feeling like I don't know how to connect with these people anymore, because I have shelled myself away so hard.” The album ends in a philosophical place on the closing, titular track, “Are We All Angels,” asking questions like, “Is this all there is?” and ultimately putting it on the listener to decide. “It’s about the personal struggle between good and evil. It doesn’t matter how ‘good’ or ‘bad’ you are, there are systems that will try to rewrite your narrative no matter what you actually do,” explains Moss, noting that punctuation on “Are We All Angels” has been deliberately omitted in an attempt to leave the statement open-ended. Are We All Angels is the highly anticipated follow-up to Scowl’s debut, 2021’s How Flowers Grow, a 16-minute primal scream over punishing riffs. But amidst the pounding chaos, it was the record’s sonic outlier, a cleaner interlude called “Seeds to Sow,” that, true to its name, planted the seed for what was to come for the band. “It kind of laid out this destiny for us, and I feel like now we’re fulfilling that,” says drummer Cole Gilbert. The band continued to expand their sound on 2023’s widely acclaimed Psychic Dance Routine EP, incorporating more pop hooks and favoring gentler singing over heavy screaming, paving the way for what would come next. Scowl’s growth got a huge boost from producer Will Yip (Turnstile, Title Fight, Code Orange, Balance and Composure), who broadened the band’s scope. “Will would say, ‘Everything you have here is correct, but it’s in the wrong place,’” says Gilbert. Moss adds: “Will really helped restructure a lot of the material. Some songs he tore apart to make more space for the really good hooks and choruses.” But even through this more eclectic approach, Scowl loses none of their edge, and still manages to convey the anger and frustration that lies underneath. They are deeply committed to carrying the ethos of punk and its sense of community. “Hardcore and punk have sculpted how we operate, what we want to do as a band, and how we participate,” says guitarist Malachi Greene. “At our core, we are a punk and a hardcore band, regardless of how the song shifts and changes.

Aunes is a rare solo album from peripatetic Australian cellist-composer-performer Judith Hamann, presenting six pieces recorded across several years and countries. Developing the collage techniques and expanded sound palettes heard on their previous releases, Aunes makes use of synthesizers, organ, voice and location recordings alongside the dazzlingly pure, enveloping tones of Hamann's cello. The record takes its name from an old French unit of measurement for fabric, varying around the country and from material to material. Unlike the platinum metre bar deposited in the National Archives after the Revolution as an immovable standard, an aune of silk differed from an aune of linen: the measure could not be separated from the material. In much the same way, in these six pieces_which Hamann thinks of as `songs'_formal aspects such as tuning, pacing, melodic shape and timbre are not abstractions applied universally to musical material but are inextricable from the instruments and sounds used, even from the places and communities in which the music was made. Audible location sound embeds the music in its place of making, as in the delicate duet for church organ and wordless singing `schloss, night', where shuffles and cluttering in the reverberant church space form a phantom accompaniment, gradually displaced by a uneasy shimmer of wavering tones from half-opened organ stops. `Casa Di Riposo, Gesu' Redentore' documents a walk up a hill to an outdoor mass in Chiusure, layering voices near and far with footsteps, insects and other incidental sounds. Like in the work of Moniek Darge or Luc Ferrari, location recordings are folded on themselves in space and time, their documentary function dislocated to dreamlike effect. On other pieces, it is the emphatic presence of the performing body that grounds the music, whether in the intimate fragility of Hamann's softly sung and hummed vocal tones or the clothing that rustles across a microphone on the opening `by the line'. The idea of a music inextricable from its material conditions is perhaps most strikingly communicated on the album's briefest piece `bruststärke (lung song)', composed from layered whistling recorded while Hamann suffered through an asthma flare up, the results halfway between field recordings of an imaginary aviary and the audiopoems of Henri Chopin. More than any of Hamann's previous solo works, a strong melodic sensibility runs through Aunes, even when, like on `seventeen fabrics of measure', the music hangs together by the merest thread. At other points, Hamann's love of pop music is more obvious: the rich synth harmonies of `by the line' could almost be a melting fragment of a backing track from Hounds of Love. The expansive closing piece `neither from nor toward' exemplifies the highly personal musical language that Hamann has developed in recent years through constant solo performance (and a rigorous discipline of instrumental practice), pairing two overdubbed voices with the boundless depth and harmonic richness of just-intoned cello notes, calling up Ockegham or Linda Caitlin Smith in its elegiac slow motion arcs. Hamann's most personal work yet, Aunes arrives in a striking sleeve reproducing a section of a painting made from sewn pieces of dyed wool by Wilder Alison, a friend and fellow resident at Akademie Schloss Solitude, one of the temporary homes where much of this music was recorded.

En Esch's corrosive new album decimates both standards and dance floors alike.

Anyone familiar with industrial luminary En Esch and his essential work in groups like KMFDM and PIG knows he is no stranger to political statements through his art. Now, on his first LP in eight years, Dance Hall Putsch, Esch decimates your standards and dance floors with vitriol. With carefully-sown and complimenting features from fellow KMFDM alumnus Raymond Watts, Guenter Schulz and Mark Durante, plus Vas Kallas (Hanzel und Gretyl), Mea Fisher and Erica Dilanjian (Lords of Acid), Hope Nicholls (Pigface) and more, Dance Hall Putsch delivers everything an industrial fan could want. From opener "Get Lost," with its categorically punishing industrial-metal riffs to the slicing EBM electronics of "Yum Yum Beauty & The Nasty Thief," it's all here and in no less than four languages throughout. En Esch's signature rasp is often contrasted by the sparkling vocals of his female counterparts, and the album is lush with brutal honesty, humor, and even a bonus En Esch-lullaby.

"I began work on Dance Hall Putsch in the early days of Covid-19. I was trying to create an upbeat, rather positive and very danceable album to leave the pandemic days behind us. Then it happened that a war began near where I live with tens of thousands of civilians killed and wounded so far. Everyone was caught by surprise and it influenced me, especially lyrically. "This current conflict is just 500 miles away from Berlin, and while that does not make it more horrific than other wars, it is very close to home. From living with this 'war next door,' the album turned out much more sinister than originally planned. It became a rather political album that reflects on the senselessness and nastiness of all the current wars around us. It's always the innocent and those who hold no power that suffer the most. Their fate isn't always death, but many times indescribable and long-term suffering. We must not forget them or turn a blind eye. "I’m very pleased that I had the opportunity to collaborate with different and interesting colleagues here. Thanx everybody for your interest in my musical works and for your love and support."

ON SAND COLOUR VINYL FOR FIRST TIME

Post-Punk? Indie-Rock? Post-Hardcore? The Van Pelt walked between all these worlds. Spoken/sung vocals, anthemic pop hooks, fiery guitars and a tightly wound rhythm section made them stand outs of the DIY basement scene they emerged from.
RELATED TO: The Lapse, Native Nod, St Vincent, Blonde Redhead, Enon, Jets to Brazil, Vague Angels.

ABOUT “STEALING FROM OUR FAVORITE THIEVES”:
90s NYC indie heroes The Van Pelt have had a lasting power far greater than so many of the other once bigger bands of that era have had. The sort of interest that has neither waxed nor waned over the decades since they disbanded, yet just mysteriously continues on despite their discography being out of print since the end of the last millennium. So what is it that sets them apart? Too soft to have ran with the AmRep or Touch and Go crowds, not hip enough to have made sense on Matador or Merge, ernest yet not histrionic enough to make it onto the “best emo bands” lists, not weird enough to be on bills with Arto Lindsay and Thurston Moore, etc. In a sense, their outsider status comes not from the wings, but from the dead center eye of the storm. The 90s were happening all around them, they were witnesses thereof, yet they emerged transcendent of it all. You Follow? Maybe it’s worth having a listen to see what I mean.
Barcelona’s La Castanya records is treating us with the first ever rerelease of the two Van Pelt albums to mark the 20th anniversary of Sultans of Sentiment, their benchmark album. They teased us in 2014 that this might be on the docket with the release of Imaginary Third, a collection of singles and unreleased Van Pelt tracks which were originally intended to have been the components of their third album, including the alt-famous “Speeding Train”. Now we’ll finally have access to their entire discography. The first album, Stealing From Our Favorite Thieves is an explosion of anthems belted out as if the war was already lost yet they were hoisting that tattered banner anyhow until there wasn’t a shred to salvage. The momentum coming out of that album had every major label in the States salivating at the possibility of turning them into the next Nirvana. Instead, The Van Pelt followed it up by pulling the van into the garage, leaving the engine running, funneling the exhaust into their lungs, and blissfully deciding to bow out of the race with the epic Sultans of Sentiment. Of course as the story goes, their intended financial flop was the exact opus that jettisoned them into the history books. Buy both albums. You’ll need them both.

Red Vinyl. Remastered by Bob Weston at Chicago Mastering Studio from the original analog master tapes. "Slint formed in 1986 as an outlet and pastime for four friends from Louisville, Kentucky. Their music was strange, wholly their own, sparse and tight. What immediately set them apart was their economy and precision. Slint were that rare band willing to play just one or two notes at a time and sometimes nothing at all. 1989's "Tweez" LP hints at their genius." - Steve Albini (Melody Maker, 1991). From the original bio: It's almost always muddy in the lousy little shanty town by the river. All the children's toys are old and rusty, even the plastic ones. Jimmy and Mel fashioned their own toy out of a live chicken that they stole. A knot was tied around the bird's feet with a shoe lace. The two boys painted their plaything yellow and silver and swung it around like a lasso, screaming gibberish and laughing the whole time. Mel got so excited that he wet himself. So, Jimmy slugged him square in the eye. About five or eight miles south east of the shanty town all the fellows in SLINT were suffering from headaches, except the drummer, who only got them when the others didn't. SLINT is a band from Louisville, Kentucky. tweez was its first recording.

The Wild Classical Music Ensemble is a Belgian experimental rock band formed in 2007 by artists with mental disability within the social-artistic non-profit organisation Wit.h in Kortrijk. Their unique sound is a blend of punk/rock riffs, fanatical rhythms and soaring flutes and fiery synths, over which gravitate multiple, multilingual voices that scratch harshly as much as they comfort. There's something very Belgian about this harshness and noisiness. We often think of compadre Arno, from the TC Matic era. During the Covid crisis, the disabled members of the Wild Classical Music Ensemble were undoubtedly subjected more than others to the harsh conditions of confinement, alone in their rooms. Damien Magnette was still able to visit them with sound equipment. This was one of their all-too-few windows onto the world. Forbidden to meet, let alone play together, the members of Wild were nevertheless able to compose songs in tandem with Damien. The tracks were then sent to musician friends - Fabrice Gilbert, Ava Carrère, Wim Opbrouck, Shht, Arthur Satàn, Nathan Roche and Julien ZLDR - who added their artistic touch. Jean Lamoot and Carl Roosens joined the adventure, one as mixer, the other as video director. It's a result of the conditions under which it was created, this is the band's most highly-produced album, and perhaps its most accessible: frankly rock, with a great deal of freedom in production, and sometimes with a certain pop allure. Jean Lamoot's contribution to the mix had a lot to do with it. In addition, the forced slowdown allowed us to devote much more time and attention to writing the lyrics. Leader Damien Magnette says: "For over a year, we were all confined. But what about when you're a mentally handicapped person? Well, it's very different from you and me... We have the right to choose, the luxury of deciding for ourselves what rules we want to follow or not. We have free will. They don't. This series of confined songs is dedicated to all the people who have gone through this crisis, deprived of their free will. We send them our thoughts, hugs and kisses full of true love! The songs respond to a deep desire to look out for each other in adversity (the so obvious "Comment ça va?" by Johan Geenens and Wim Opbrouck, or "Waarom ben je boos" by Sébastien Faidherbe with Wim Decoene, the latter full of empathy). A sense of loneliness is logically present on the album ("Dat is mijn verdriet" by Linh Pham, a very real, very concrete and particularly touching poem, or "Loneliness", whose text was improvised by Wim), if not an understandable rage ("Je ne veux pas" and "My Frustrations"). It worth noting that on "On reste heureux", Sébastien Faidherbe composed all the parts in one go, with an optimism that stands out from the anger expressed in his other songs. Let's make no mistake: none of this is really over. All these emotions, suffering, pain and hope, speak to us far beyond this grim story of covid.

Emerging from the shadows and plumes of smoke, Chicago, IL ensemble HUNTSMEN are set to make their return in 2024 with their third album, The Dry Land, set to be released via Prosthetic Records on June 7. On their first full-length in four years, HUNTSMEN’s The Dry Land traverses the liminal space between the living and the dead by lifting the veil of the abyss itself. Born of suffering and hardship, The Dry Land unifies the dark and light that resides in all of us through allegories of purgatorial strife and human spirit. Following the release of their sophomore full-length, Mandala of Fear, in 2020 and The Dying Pines EP in 2022 HUNTSMEN’s intervening years between studio albums were marked with devastatingly contrasting highs and lows. Whilst their body of studio work continued to garner acclaim from fans and critics alike, chronic illness would become a recurring uphill battle for the ensemble. As these jarring mixed fortunes reached their apex towards the end of 2022, the band reached towards each other outside of their craft as old friends. Taking stock of four years of tribulations led to a reevaluation of what it is to be creatives and, in turn, ushered in a collective rebirth. Writing sessions saw a number of artistic firsts for HUNTSMEN, most notably with the first full collaborative inclusion of vocalist Aimee Bueno-Knipe. The creative process soon saw HUNTSMEN adding more black metal influences into their Americana and folk tinged doom, evidenced most overtly on tracks such as This, Our Gospel and lead single In Time, All Things. Elsewhere, HUNTSMEN’s knack for finely crafted and richly layered melodies offer moments of resplendence on the slow burning Lean Times and closer The Herbsight. Mirroring the circumstances and environment that led to its creation, The Dry Land’s pacing is one rooted in the art of rise and fall dynamics both musically and lyrically. Tales of escaping religious violence, malevolent apparitions and death incarnate all play key roles throughout the album’s narrative thread. HUNTSMEN treat each tale as both exorcism and exaltation, adding a pervasively unsettling quality to The Dry Land that is sure to stick long after the runtime is over. The Dry Land was recorded and mixed by Pete Grossmann at Bricktop Studios before being placed in the hands of Brad Boatright for mastering, with the resulting sound adding a towering grandiosity to the album whilst simultaneously highlighting HUNTSMEN’s newfound corrosive qualities. The Dry Land’s striking cover art was created by Derek Setzer, depicting an immolating dancer in high contrast black and white amongst rusted gold. Through the fire, HUNTSMEN find themselves reborn on The Dry Land.

In one sense, it’s easy for artists—songwriters, specifically—to express their feelings in their work. After all, that’s what the lyrics are for! But it’s much harder to convey emotional energy in how you play, slash at the guitar, and the structure of the music itself. That’s precisely why Girl and Girl’s Sub Pop debut, Call A Doctor, feels like such a vital, electrifying shock to the senses. Not since the early work of Car Seat Headrest or Conor Oberst’s widescreen emotional brutality as Bright Eyes has indie rock managed to come across as this intimate and grandiose, as the Australian quartet led by Kai James lay a lifetime’s worth of woes—mental health, the human race’s planned obsolescence if you’ve been living on this cursed rock you know what we’re getting at—across a canvas of indie rock that feels both timeless and in-the-moment.

An audacious and aggressively tuneful blast of a record, Call A Doctor is an unforgettable first bow from Girl and Girl, whose origins lie in James and guitarist Jayden Williams jamming in his mother’s garage in the afternoon after school. One afternoon, James’ Aunty Liss headed down to their practice space after walking her dog and asked if she could sit in on drums. “It sounded really great,” James recalls. “We begged her to stay, and she said, ‘I’ll stay until you find another drummer.’ We wore her down, and she eventually became a permanent member.”

After bassist Fraser Bell joined to round things out, Girl and Girl hit the road and began to make a name for themselves beyond the Australian bush, eventually signing to Sub Pop off the strength of word of mouth. Call A Doctor came together quickly soon after, largely recorded in marathon sessions in a two-story industrial complex over the course of two weeks. “That added to the intensity of the album,” James says about the frenzied creative process overseen by producer Burke Reid. “I can hear the stress in the record, which is good because that’s what it’s about—being tense, tied up, and in your own head.”

Call A Doctor’s eleven songs—spanning sweeping guitar epics and wry acoustic shuffles to spiky punk maneuvers and the type of raw, adoringly unvarnished indie-pop associated with legendary PacNW label K Records—are literally plucked from James’ personal history, as he reworked older recordings with newer lyrics reflecting his past struggles as well as new anxieties that emerged prior to the album’s recording. “I’ve struggled with mental health for a lot of my life,” he explains, “and I went through a particularly difficult patch when we were making the album; the band had started to get some attention, and I felt an enormous amount of pressure to live up to it.”

Far from the sound of collapsing under pressure, Call A Doctor finds James and Co. stepping up with their entire collective chest. This is a record that’s so out-and-out alive that you nearly feel like you’re in the same room with Girl and Girl as you listen to it; lead single “Hello” practically bursts through the speakers, amplified by Aunty Liss’ unbelievable stickhandling duties. “‘Hello’ is all about romanticizing your own misery. Letting those deep, dark, dirty thoughts take over. Understanding that even if you could pull yourself out, you wouldn’t because the constant stress and worry is far too familiar and comfortable.”

“Mother” pogos on a spiky groove that’s reminiscent of the geographically close New Zealanders who make up the legendary Flying Nun label, while “Oh Boy” draws from the Shins’ own jangly sound, injected with James’ wonderfully nervy vocals. Then there’s Call A Doctor’s sorta-centerpiece “Maple Jean and the Anthropocene,” a five-minute epic offering a new perspective on climate change and the notion of what it means, in a personal sense, to suffer: “I live in the bushland, and I was driving home one night and hit and killed a wallaby with my car,” James recalls while discussing the song’s lyrical inspiration. “My first thought was, ‘What is the universe trying to tell me?’ No remorse, no guilt, just total self-centeredness. Which was like, Woah, you fucking psychopath! This wallaby wasn’t put on this earth to send you a message. That’s what the song is about, our egocentric species - thinking you’re the main character and that everything that happens is somehow about you.”

“This record is about an individual who’s too far in their head, trying to get out,” James continues while discussing Call A Doctor’s overall outlook—specifically the snapshot it offers of its creator. But even though this record deals with uneasy topics we all know well from within ourselves, it’s important to emphasize how teeming with life Girl and Girl’s music is. There’s a brazen, bold sense of humor to this stuff, an undeniable brightness to the darkness that makes it impossible not to be drawn in as a listener. Feeling down never sounded so goddamn good.

Technical death metal troupe Cognitive are back with Abhorrence, their fifth full length album and a tremendously worthy successor to 2021’s Malevolent Thoughts of a Hastened Extinction. This is the New Jersey powerhouse quintet at its brutal best – unrelenting riffs leave the listener stunned, while a wave of thoughtful, devastating lyrics washes over. The album is a turbulent, draining but ultimately fulfilling experience. Cognitive started work on Abhorrence while touring Malevolent Thoughts of a Hastened Extinction, sending tracks back and forth to each other while trekking from one intense gig to another. This promises to be a big year for Cognitive, as they take Abhorrence on the road and bring more people into their vile new world. 13 years after the release of their debut EP, the band’s fifth full-lengther sees them continue to make giant strides forward while retaining the elements of their past efforts that got them this far. Abhorrence may provide therapeutic commentary about how messed up the world currently is, but also, ironically, provides a breath of fresh air. We’re all in this together, so catch Cognitive on the road this year.

Technical death metal troupe Cognitive are back with Abhorrence, their fifth full length album and a tremendously worthy successor to 2021’s Malevolent Thoughts of a Hastened Extinction. This is the New Jersey powerhouse quintet at its brutal best – unrelenting riffs leave the listener stunned, while a wave of thoughtful, devastating lyrics washes over. The album is a turbulent, draining but ultimately fulfilling experience. Cognitive started work on Abhorrence while touring Malevolent Thoughts of a Hastened Extinction, sending tracks back and forth to each other while trekking from one intense gig to another. This promises to be a big year for Cognitive, as they take Abhorrence on the road and bring more people into their vile new world. 13 years after the release of their debut EP, the band’s fifth full-lengther sees them continue to make giant strides forward while retaining the elements of their past efforts that got them this far. Abhorrence may provide therapeutic commentary about how messed up the world currently is, but also, ironically, provides a breath of fresh air. We’re all in this together, so catch Cognitive on the road this year.

Necrot continue their ascent to the forefront of American aural extremity, pushing the boundaries of style and continuing to recast metal in their image. Founded by bassist, vocalist and principal songwriter Luca Indrio and drummer Chad Gailey in 2011 – guitarist Sonny Reinhardt joined the next year – the Oakland, California, trio offer Lifeless Birth (in continued collaboration with Tankcrimes) as a culmination of their to-date efforts to encapsulate and push forward the deathly stylings of 2020’s Mortal and their 2017 debut, Blood Offerings. It’s not about giving up a ferocity that’s helped make them a household name among the converted. Instead, Necrot use that same, by-now-characteristic intensity as the backdrop for an expanded songwriting palette. They’ve always been a band who stood out. The maturity they show on Lifeless Birth confirms that’s been the plan all along. It is a vision of what metal can be and do in 2024, tearing down old barriers and keeping those traditional elements that make it stronger. Recorded with Grammy-winning producer Greg Wilkinson (who has helmed all three Necrot albums) and mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege, Lifeless Birth pivots fluidly between technical intricacy, progressive poise and all-out brutality. Scouring lead work will have thrash heads nodding knowingly, and an overarching groove reaches out across the metal microgenres with a righteous call to worship. Its songs are memorable and varied, unpretentious but able to rear up with statelier violence. At the same time, “Drill the Skull,” “Cut the Cord,” “The Curse” and others prove that just because a song is beating you into the ground doesn’t mean it can’t also be forward-thinking. Or catchy. After having their Mortal tour plans scuttled owing to the covid pandemic, family health issues that led Luca, who became a US citizen in 2016 and currently lives in Mexico, to return to Italy for a time canceled what would have been their first tour post-plague. Still, despite this and Chad suffering a broken back, requiring multiple surgeries and intense physical therapy to be able to drum again, period, Luca being struck with Bell’s Palsy the night before he was originally due to fly to the studio to record, and Sonny requiring multiple surgeries on his hands in the months since they finished, Necrot charge forward with material distinguished in its real-world point of view and willingness to look beyond extreme metal tropes in lyrics, the melodies of its guitar solos, and unbridled audience engagement. For a collection of songs that feel so much written for the stage, it should be no surprise tours early in 2024 and summer festivals are to be announced. Mortal (2020, Tankcrimes) was #2 on Billboard's Top New Artist chart, #30 on the Top Current Albums chart, #4 on the Current Hard Music, and #10 on the Heatseeker Albums chart for week of release. Necrot have toured in North America, Europe, Australia and Japan, and shared the stage with Cannibal Corpse, Immolation, The Black Dahlia Murder, Suffocation, Morbid Angel, and hundreds of others. Expect no letup as Lifeless Birth brings Necrot all the more to their own place among metal’s superlatively aggressive proliferators. – JJ Koczan

Ondrej Zajac doesn't practice. Neither does he play his guitar with as little as a hint of striking technical prowess. Despite this, he makes music with the confidence of a master instrumentalist who doesn't let their chops get in the way. This is because Ondrej Zajac understands that the point of playing an instrument is to transcend it.

Such principles have been the source of pride for the idioms of experimental and free music, but these suffer from the chronic peddling of artistic narcissism. Ondrej Zajac works in the confines of these genres, but impressively avoids all their pitfalls. His music is almost pure content, as straight as a line, and so immediate and so fucking honest it leaves you wondering.

I Will Be Forgotten offers plenty of opportunities for such wondering, regardless of whether the composition is sixteen minutes or sixty seconds long. The structure of the whole thing, the appreciation of all properties of sound without indulgence in any of them, the playfulness and composure beyond it all, not even the beautiful sonic grain of the guitar itself, none of this does dwarf the most remarkable accomplishment of this record // its utter artistic integrity.

Recorded live at Divadlo 29 in Pardubice and co-produced and mixed by Václav Šafka, I Will Be Forgotten is the second solo release by Ondrej Zajac (Banausoi, Data Koroptev) and the 19th release by the sincere label Weltschmerzen.

Harm’s Way is Duck Ltd.’s most intuitive and organic album yet, the result of keen observation, self-possessed songwriting, and a collaborative spirit. Building on the successes of their previous releases, the deeply relatable album displays a band operating at a nuanced, lyrical and musical best.

Ducks Ltd. make inviting and frenetic guitar pop for when life feels overwhelming. While the band’s songs are ostensibly breezy, a palpable anxiety boils underneath that communicates something deeper about everyday existence. On their latest album Harm’s Way, the Toronto duo of Tom McGreevy and Evan Lewis hones in on interpersonal and societal collapses, urban decay, and the near-impossibility of keeping a level head when everything around you seems to be falling apart.

“They’re songs about struggling,” says singer and lyricist McGreevy (who also plays bass and rhythm guitar). “About watching people I care for suffer, and trying to figure out how to be there for them. And about the strain of living in the world when it feels like it's ready to collapse.” 

Even with its often dark subject matter, Harm’s Way is Ducks Ltd.’s most vividly rendered and collaborative collection yet. It’s an undeniable evolution for the band, not just in how these songs soar, but in their entire writing and recording processes. Composed on tour while supporting acts like Nation of Language, Illuminati Hotties, and Archers of Loaf, the album displays the band’s finely tuned songcraft and well-earned, road-tested confidence. “When we got signed, we had played maybe five or six shows ever. After last year, it’s in the hundreds. That experience can change your perception of your own music and songwriting,” says McGreevy. “In the past when we got stuck on a song we had a tendency to look at our favourite records to see how they tackled it. But now, instead of asking ‘what would Orange Juice do?’, we’d ask, ‘what would we do?’.” Lewis adds, “We have this really great thing where every decision with the band is filtered through both of us. Here especially, we really figured out how to make something that truly sounds like us.”

The band, fortified by this strong sense of sonic identity and a self-assurance in their new material—and in contrast to their critically acclaimed 2021 debut Modern Fiction and 2019 EP Get Bleak, both self-recorded and self-produced in a Toronto basement—wanted to bring Harm’s Way to life in a new city, with an outside producer, and with some of their favourite musicians. “We realised that so many of our favourite bands who are making guitar music right now are from Chicago,” says McGreevy. Working with producer Dave Vettraino (Dehd, Deeper, Lala Lala), they enlisted a marquee cast of Windy City collaborators to round out the tracks on Harm’s Way, including: Finom’s Macie Stewart (violin, string arrangements); Ratboys’ Marcus Nuccio (drums on most tracks); Dehd’s Jason Balla (who helped arrange the backing vocals, to which he also contributed); and backing vocals from Julia Steiner (Ratboys), Nathan O’Dell (Dummy), Margaret McCarthy (Moontype), Rui De Magalhaes (Lawn), and Lindsey-Paige McCloy (Patio). The band’s touring drummer, Jonathan Pappo, and bassist Julia Wittman also appear on the LP.

Ducks Ltd. are a band that already thrives on skirting the edges of buoyant jangle pop and driving power pop, and the duo credits these collaborators with helping to push their sound even further. “Historically our process has been really tightly controlled and insular. On this record, we worked with people who we trusted with a pretty wide range of musical backgrounds and they had approaches and ideas that helped open up the record's sonic palette,” explains McGreevy. “Jason thinks about backing vocals in a totally different way than I do and is super intuitive with melodic ideas. Julia and Margaret have a really deeo understanding of harmony. Macie and Dave were comfortable with the idea of improvising string parts which took some of those layers in some surprising directions. Dave also has an amazing ability to create atmosphere on a recording, and encouraged us to use a bunch of different techniques, tones, and processes to achieve that.”

Harm’s Way’s lush, melodic swagger is clear from the first notes of opener “Hollowed Out.” A song about living with decline (inspired by a Toronto sinkhole), its bright, indelible catchiness serves in contrast to its lyrical unease. Anchored by Lewis’ shimmering electric guitar, “The Main Thing” laments growing apart from a person whose views you once shared while managing to toss in references to both the unglamorous lives of middle relief baseball pitchers and the occult. Other songs split the difference between country and krautrock, like the rollicking “Train Full of Gasoline,” which uses the 2013 Lac-Mégantic rail disaster in Quebec as a metaphor for self-destructive patterns. Meanwhile, “Deleted Scenes” mourns the absence of someone no longer in your life (even if for very good reasons) and recalls The Cure at their most direct, and closer “Heavy Bag” employs enveloping, mournful strings to evoke a sense of how misery frequently loves company.

Story Of Collapsed Dimention unfold in 4 tracks multi-genres musical accompaniment and 12 frame comics, as artwork. The EP symbolizes a journey of personal transformation, the courage to confront the unknown and fight against circumstances and suffering. In order to become something new, we need to give up what we are now.

The tracks span across various styles, including funky house with a live-band feel, featuring infectious rhythms and vibrant instrumentation. There is a breakbeat track infused with a groovy bassline seized from NBA Live 95 on Sega Genesis, accompanied by turntablism hard drops and scratchy sounds that add an edgy and gritty vibe.

B-side explores psychedelic frequency modulations of polyharmonic intertwined with jungle-oriented breaks, creating a mesmerizing fusion of intricate melodies and rhythmic complexity. Finally, the EP concludes with an electro banger that has been accidentally reinvented with its captivating energy and a profound message.

Overall, the EP showcases a diverse and dynamic musical journey through these genres, offering a rich and immersive listening experience or valuable universal DJ-tool.

The artwork features hand-drawn comics by the talented artist Larisa Shalyapina, script and production by CDA.

The unique texture, blurriness, and overall quality of the illustration are meticulously preserved through a process of manual assembly and duplication, resulting in a visually captivating and tactile experience.

Used gear: Roland MC-808, Roland MC-505, Moog Subphatty, Waldorf Wave XT, MAM33, Volca FM, Volca Bass, Tascam Midistudio 644, Jomox t-resonator II, Boss Digital Delay, Teletron SAQ-206B Amp, KME Sound GBA 80 Bassbox, Culture vulture distortion, Distress compressors. DAW Ableton.

conceptualization:

Tracks are written during frequent relocations, capturing experienced moments and raw emotions. As the physical changes in our living environment are comparable to the collisions and evolving paths within the domain of knowledge reflected in the trials of spiritual awakening.

In Berlin, a city of expats, it has a special relevance to people who came here to find themselves. It also resonates with those who have been brought here by circumstances.

Record id released with all Ukrainian brothers and sisters in heart.

While we find comfort in our safe spaces, it is inevitable that some stress will eventually provoke us to take action. We may long for that period of comfort and feel a sense of anger or sadness for what once was. Once the truth is revealed, much like the unveiling of light, there is no turning back — a path to enlightenment shall be accepted.

Within the EP, each track serves as a chapter for this path.

A1

First track encapsulates escapism by chasing a feel-good sense in the run from responsibilities into fantasy-land. In the moment of careless life in careless time, where the future is sacrificed in the name of immediate pleasure.

A2

Robotboy incorporates a superficial state of mind with a reactive personality rooted in a narcissistic ego, dishonestly denying the righteous path. Subconscious struggle from hedonistic lifestyle with no relief.

B1

A deeply intimate and personal, embodied introspective sentiment kept hidden from the world, revealing when we’re alone and usually stifled with distraction and entertainment. Nostalgic feeling of loss follows us during the abandonment of a beloved place. Overwhelming weight of regret in presents.

B2

Taking action of the first step makes us unstoppable and disclosure of knowledge leads to destruction of the illusory world. Finding out the truth, same as seeing the light, excludes the retreat into darkness. As comprehension is the way to enlightenment.

Wrestling Music is Kean Kavanagh's most intriguing work to date, illustrating his vulnerabilities and contextualising his journey from hopelessness to vindication. Speaking on the EP, Kean explains that, “In May 2022 I suffered a vocal injury which meant that for the majority of the last year, I haven’t been able to sing or record. While I’ve been working on a lot of different music and writing a lot of songs, it has been heartbreaking and depressing at times to not be able to realise their full potential and to sing them how I hear them. On the 1st of May 2023, I wrote and recorded “The Magic” at home in Portlaoise and it helped me to embrace whatever the last year was and point me in a direction to go towards. It felt important to me and I didn’t want to just sit on it, so I gathered some instrumentals I had and worked quickly to create this EP, the Wrestling Music EP, as a timestamp of this period of my life and the loops of arrogance, introversion and acceptance that I’ve been spinning.”

Co-founder, producer and A&R of Irish Label Soft Boy Records, Kean Kavanagh is a story-teller with a strong imagination who set out his stall as both a singer-songwriter and world creator in 2020, with the release of his acclaimed project Dog Person. In what turned out to be a big year for him, 2020 also saw Kean make an appearance on the Everything Is Recorded project FRIDAY FOREVER, (curated by Richard Russell of XL Recordings) alongside Aitch, Flohio, Maria Somerville, Ghostface Killah and others, aligning himself with a tastemaker and a hotly tipped selection of musical peers.

“Praying to god whether or not I believe there is one” - PH

Petra Hermanova and Unguarded announce In Death’s Eyes (UGD-009), the debut solo LP under the artist’s own name. This LP features nine tracks utilizing folk and sacred musical technique and instrumentation which drift between song and heavy distorted drones. In a disciplined display of beauty, pain, and astute musicianship, Hermanova brings forth a notable accomplishment of an album. In Death’s Eyes confronts death from start to finish with a rare fervor that leaves one feeling it was utterly necessary for Hermanova to produce - to survive. The transcendent impulse, or the influence of religious music, bears heavily on Hermanova’s compositions in her choir arrangements, but is most apparent in her use of pipe organ, opening the record on Black Glass. Having written organ parts for a significant portion of the record, she sought out the renowned organist Denny Wilke to record with her in the Merseburg Cathedral. Captivated by Wilke's profound skill as a player and knowledge of the Ladegast organ, Hermanova invited him to collaborate on Two Deaths where he delivers an impressive improvisation. While religious music offers spiritual solace from grief, folk speaks to the human and earthly as told by the individual, be they songs of suffering or joy, sin or salvation. To Hermanova, the clean promise of liturgical music is not enough to alleviate the blunt pain of grief. Contrasting the spiritual is the voice of the individual sufferer - the folk musician. For Hermanova, the autoharp embodies this contrast. The autoharp, a familiar sound in Appalachian folk music since its mass production in the late 1800’s, is an affordable instrument designed for the unskilled player. It is the antithesis of the organ which is costly, gargantuan, reserved for skilled players, and quite literally a part of the church. Through In Death’s Eyes the sounds of transcendence blend with the worldly, the tension between them poignantly expressing Hermanova’s struggle for spiritual resolution against the reality of death and loss. Like Hermanova’s lyrics, the artwork, conceptualized by Enes Güç and Evelyn Bencicova, is riddled with symbolism and allusion. We find Hermanova on the cover, digitally rendered. Reclining like an anatomical Venus, her vital organs are exposed, suggesting she is denied a transcendent death and is instead immaculately human. Bearing a sickle, her legs are metallic like armor, both symbols of protection. We see here in this image, as we hear in the nine tracks of IDE, the metaphoric state of someone ravaged by loss, choosing to tear herself open in an attempt to heal. - Reece Cox Petra Hermanova is a musician and visual artist based in Berlin. In 2018, Hermanova began working with the autoharp, which has since become the central pillar of her musical practice. Drawing inspiration from folk, medieval drone, and contemporary textural expressions, as well as Appalachian autoharp music, she creates emotionally driven arrangements accompanied by vocals. In her lyrics, she speaks to the fragility and tenderness of the human condition, religious conceptions of death, and introspective landscapes through narrative and symbolism. Hermanova debuted live at the Berliner Festspiele event The Sun Machine is Coming Down, performed at Trauma Bar und Kino accompanied with her choir, and recently took part in Sorour Darabi’s durational performance From the Throat to the Dawn. Her debut solo album, In Death’s Eyes, is set for release in 2023 on the art platform and label Unguarded. The album, where she wrote for the autoharp, pipe organ, solo voice and choir, features the acclaimed organist Denny Wilke playing the 19th century Ladegast organ of the Merseburg Cathedral. She has toured internationally with previous projects, including extensive sound and visual collaborations with Jon Eirik Boska (Hydropsyche) as well as with her award-winning band Fiordmoss. She was recently announced as a SHAPE+ platform artist.

“Vivian was a talented singer-songwriter who never realised his full potential. Leroy Smart’s popular ‘Pride and Ambition’ was written by Vivian, but he was not even credited on the record. When I decided to make reggae recordings of my poetry, it was Vivian who showed me how to go about it. He played bass on my first three albums, Dread Beat An Blood, Forces of Victory and Bass Culture.

I introduced him to Virgin Records and he recorded his first album, Bad Weathers, which was released in 1978. When I moved to Island Records, I also secured a deal for him to record an album with them. Two singles were released by Island but the album, which I had helped to produce, was never put out. Vivian never got the break he deserved in the music business.” – Linton Kwesi Johnson

Colin McCann didn't pick up a guitar for nearly ten years. The Northern-California-based songwriter, previously performing under Long Dog Bird, had been creating music with longtime friend and collaborator Brian Gossman for much of their adult lives with early-00s Baltimore-based band Wilderness. So what would cause such a stagnant period? And how could McCann find his way back to the joy that music had once so easily conjured? The answer was to go back to the very beginning, where the kinetic forces that urged McCann to make music in the first place could emerge once again. But first, he had to make space in his internal world; a kind of silence where he could hear the exhale of his past, and the blossoming of a new song. That blossoming would soon become the first songs for McCann's latest project Vulture Feather. The band's debut album Liminal Fields exists on an intangible plane: a crack in the concrete, a gauze between worlds. For as long as McCann can recall, he's been using music as a vehicle to try and connect with an underlying, indescribable nature that only the sonic world seems to be able to reach. "There's a feeling of ecstasy that comes when one merges with music," he says. "It's what calls us all back again and again to listen, to sing, and to play." McCann had been striving to reach this outlying environment throughout his career, often stretching in ways that eventually came to negatively impact his life, and his health. The wake up call came when McCann suffered a near-death experience, eerily predicted by a friend through a dream she had had almost a year earlier. Newly awoken to the beauty of being alive, McCann strove to slow down, to listen to the inherent nature in all living things, and to rediscover our mutual connectivity. He stopped playing and listening to music, and instead soaked himself in the cacophony of silence. Then without any epiphany or grand catalyst, something urged McCann to pick up a guitar again. Ideas flowed more naturally than ever, and he soon realized that the liminal space he had been searching for was there all along--he only had to listen. McCann tentatively reached out to Gossman to collaborate and the friends found themselves once again jamming together, in an off-grid quonset hut where they now practice. "It was like no time had passed," McCann says. "That feeling of ecstatic joy, of forgetting your own name, came flooding back." They were soon joined by another old friend, Eric Fiscus, who completed Vulture Feather on drums.

"ARCHETYPES COLLIDE demand repeated listening, mixing everything from Linkin Park and Bring Me The Horizon to The Chainsmokers, and Stranger Things-style retro synths, into a unique musical identity. A collection of singles and EPs drew a devoted fanbase and the attention of Oshie Bichar, bassist for Beartooth. Bichar enlisted his management, and the pair took Archetypes Collide under their wing. Soon after, SiriusXM's Octane got behind songs like ""Your Misery,"" ""Becoming What I Hate,"" and ""Above It All."" The band appeared on major festivals like Aftershock, Louder Than Life, and Welcome To Rockville, toured with genre giants The Amity Affliction, and crafted an ambitious self-titled debut album for Fearless Records. Archetypes Collide spent several weeks in the first part of 2022 making their inaugural full-length, with a super team surrounding them to execute their vision. Bichar produced alongside Nick Ingram (Dayseeker, Convictions, Hawthorne Heights) at Capital House Studio in Ohio. Additional production came from Jon Eberhard (Skillet, I Prevail, Until I Wake); The Plot In You frontman Landon Tewers lent a creative hand as well. The resulting album, mixed by Jeff Dunne (Ice Nine Kills, Wage War, Make Them Suffer), captures the vibrant spirit of the 2010s-era Warped Tour with a postmodern edge. It's a diverse but singular mission statement, brimming with authenticity and hope. ARCHETYPES COLLIDE aren't bound by preconceived notions or limitations. As single Kyle Pastor explains simply: ""Why not take every shot, in every direction, under the umbrella of hard rock and metal? "

‘’Ace Todmorden label makes a significant discovery on its own doorstep: a superb cache of ‘loner folk’ songs recorded in the early-70s by Hebden Bridge’s answer to Nick Drake’’ UNCUT PLAYLIST

"This is music that can confidently hold its own with pioneers such as Davey Graham, Michael Chapman, Bert Jansch and Jackson C Frank, as influenced by jazz, blues and steel guitar as any of the old songbook classics from ancient Albion.” Benjamin Myers
"Defiantly Northern and out of this world" Folk Radio

Anti-counter culture loner folk from a teenage attic in the heart of rural Northern hippiedom.
Today the valley town of Hebden Bridge in West Yorkshire is world-renowned as something of a bohemian backwater. It wasn’t like this back in the late 1960s and the early 1970s, when a disparate selection of radicals, drop-outs, heads, musicians, artists and writers started to be attracted to the Calder Valley. Local lad and future poet laureate Ted Hughes called the area “the fouled nest of industrialisation”.
Over time, those seeds of radicalism and collectivism ensured Hebden Bridge evolved into a place where people could be themselves and all shades of individual oddness not only tolerated but actively encouraged. But back at the turn of the dreary 1970s it remained a monochrome world defined by its unforgiving surrounding landscapes, where the old gritstone over-dwellings were stained with soot and rain lashed down for weeks.
It was here that Trevor Beales, who was born in 1953, grew up, and from where he drew musical and lyrical inspiration.
Perhaps it was this dual nationality heritage, unusual in the valley’s largely white working class population at the time, that gave the teenager Trevor Beale’s music an outsider’s perspective. The discovery of Bob Dylan, Django Reinhardt, The Byrds and James Taylor at a young age, lead to him picking up a guitar at the age of ten, and he was soon writing his own originals and performing them at local (though often remote) folk clubs and pubs.
Recorded in the attic of the family home at Ivy Bank in Charlestown on the verdant wooded slopes at the edge of Hebden Bridge between 1971 and 1974, these early recordings are collected here for the first time and mark Trevor Beales long-overdue solo debut.
In these songs is a suffer-no-fools sense of realism that is defiantly Northern, yet also expresses a worldliness that belies Beales’ young years, whilst also showcasing an inherent storyteller’s ear for narrative. Here is a postcard from the past at that crucial musical period of transition, when the idealistic exponents of the 1960s emerged into an austere new decade that was to be shaped by strikes, rising unemployment and economic upheaval.
Two aspects of this music make it remarkable: Beales’ natural ability showcases a sophisticated guitar-picking style that was leagues ahead of many of his (older, more recognised) contemporaries. This is music that can confidently hold its own with pioneers such as Davey Graham, Michael Chapman, Dave Evans, Bert Jansch and Jackson C Frank, as influenced by jazz, blues and steel guitar as any of the old songbook classics from ancient Albion.
Secondly, his lyrics are a far cry from either the naïve bedroom scribblings of a teenager who has barely left his upland home, nor do they fall foul of the type of lazy cliches and sub-Tolkien imagery that was still in abundance in the early 1970s. Most remarkably the earliest songs here were laid down less than a year after he left school (an unearthed report written by his headteacher on July 3rd 1970 noted he had “a considerable ability and interest in music”, though his education ended abruptly when he simply walked out of a science lesson one sunny day while at sixth form, never to return).
Trevor’s music is grounded in reality – his reality. ‘Then I’ll Take You Home’, for example, considers the Guru Marajai, who encouraged his acolytes to give over their worldly possessions, yet who drove a Rolls Royce and lived like a playboy. Unsurprisingly, this latest in a long line of spiritual charlatans found several followers in Hebden Bridge, and Beales casts a disdainful eye over the growing popularity for such false prophets.
With its ancient narratives and propensity for myth-making, folk has certainly produced it’s fair share of cult figures who have enjoyed rediscovery or career resurgence and with this debut compilation of home recordings, rescued from cassette tapes, Trevor Beales might just be the latest addition. Certainly he was the real deal.
Crucially, Beales' music is never jaded or cynical, but instead possesses a poet’s ear, a strong sense of self and some sound critical faculties. And much of it recorded at an age when he could neither vote nor order a pint of heavy.
Trevor Beales died suddenly and unexpectedly on March 29th 1987, aged 33. He left behind Christine and their young child Lydia.

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.

Everything eventually turns to dust. Everyone knows this, but few want to acknowledge that our time on this mortal coil is fleeting, preferring to remain in stasis, in hopes that "the end" will pass them by. Chicago trio FACS (guitarist Brian Case, bassist Alianna Kalaba & drummer Noah Leger) have been perfecting their brand of intense, cathartic post-punk over the course of four ever-evolving albums, beginning with 2017's "Negative Houses" thru 2021's landmark "Present Tense', which saw the trio dig deep into the gaping maw of a black hole & pulling back whatever debris they could grasp onto. Their newest "Still Life In Decay" comes as an addendum to the last album - a "post-event review" if you will. "Still Life In Decay" starts with a squall of white noise before collapsing into the band already locked into "Constellation"s lumbering groove, with Case's guitar a ghostly presence, appearing & disappearing in washes of gauzy feedback throughout the track. FACS have never been more locked in as a unit, and "Still Life In Decay" is a decidedly more focused effort. The apocalyptic chaos that defined their previous album "Present Tense" is waved away in favor of an examination of events with cumbrous clarity. FACS are a heavy band, but they don't necessarily FEEL like one (see side two's "Still Life", where Case's fluttering, melodic guitar lines are buoyed by the insistent, underlying pulse of the bass & drums). As a rhythm section, Kalaba & Leger dance & twist around each other like a double helix, forming the DNA of what makes FACS special. Collectively they approach rhythm from outside the groove as opposed to inside it, creating a lattice where Case weaves guitar lines like creeping vines, which makes the moments on "Still Life In Decay" where the band DOES lock in even more powerful. When the guitar punctures the lock-step swing of "When You Say", it hits like a hammer. Case utilizes his lyrics like a person suffering from anterograde amnesia; repeating phrases & holding onto old memories in a desperate attempt to avoid the slide into oblivion. Freeform poetic missives touching on themes of resignation, cynicism, class warfare, and a search for identity & meaning in a crumbling society; A primal desire to hold onto anything in a post-pandemic barrage of sensory overload. The album is a decidedly local affair; recorded once again at Chicago's famed Electrical Audio by renowned engineer Sanford Parker & mixed at his Hypercube Studio in Chicago's Ravenswood neighborhood & mastered by Matthew Barnhart at Chicago Mastering Service.

Naglfar have an high quality of their recordings, this is the fifth album by those Swedes, and are here again be able to keep up to their high recording standards of the previous albums and if their music would still reek of hatred, evil and suffering. Naglfar is one of those bands that can effortlessly mix raw energy of black metal that we know from their first albums with the elements of melodic death metal introduced in their later releases. This mix makes their songs memorable to a point that you can recognize them from the first riffs. Traditionally of course, intensity mixes with atmospheric slower parts, melodic touches intertwine with ultra fast brutality, and in all that, solos, parts of keyboards or piano are thrown into as if into a twister of sickening sound. Musically, the whole band shows us solid compositional skills, supported by technical instrumentality and respectable experience. Christopher Olivius spits out wicked lyrics, he sang with such passion and malice, that vocals added an extra level of brutality, vocals are very strong and solid. Harvest is an inspired, interesting and originally diverse piece of work. This album comes out in deluxe gatefold edition on vinyl,

To confuse parts for the whole is inevitable with Palm. Drummer Hugo Stanley, bassist Gerasimos Livitsanos and guitarists/vocalists/high school sweethearts Eve Alpert and Kasra Kurt started making music together as teenagers, and spent much of their twenties in the kind of proximity unusual for adults, outside of touring bands and the International Space Station. For a number of years the band consumed the lives of its members to a point of exhaustion: “To be honest I think we got a little burnt out. There were times where it wasn’t clear if we’d make another record,” says Alpert. It was only after multiple freak injuries followed by a pandemic, forced a pause - from touring but also from writing, rehearsing, even seeing each other- that the four were able to regroup and see a way forward again.

On their latest effort, Nicks and Grazes, Palm embrace discordance to dazzling effect. “We wanted to reconcile two potentially opposing aesthetics,” Kurt says. “To capture the spontaneous, free energy of our live shows while integrating elements from the traditionally gridded palette of electronic music.” In order to avoid what Kurt refers to as “Palm goes electro,” the musicians spent years educating themselves on the ins and outs of production by learning Ableton while also experimenting with “the percussive, textural, and gestural potential” of their instruments. To this end, the band continued the age-old tradition of instrument-preparation, augmenting guitars with drumsticks, metal rods and, at the suggestion of Charles Bullen (This Heat, Lifetones), coiling rubber-coated gardening wire around the strings. The unruliness of the prepared guitar on songs like “Mirror Mirror” and “Eager Copy” contrasts with the steadfast reproducibility of the album’s electronic elements.

While Palm cite Japanese pop music, dub, and footwork as influences on this album’s sonic palette, they found themselves returning time and again to the artists who inspired them to start the group over a decade ago. “When we were first starting out as a band, we bonded over an appreciation of heavy, aggressive, noisy music,” Alpert reflects. “We wrote parts that were just straight-up metal.” Kurt adds, “I found myself rediscovering and re–falling in love with the visceral, jagged quality of guitars in the music of Glenn Branca, The Fall, Beefheart, and Sonic Youth, all important early Palm influences.” Returning to the fundamentals gave Palm a strong foundation upon which they could experiment freely, resulting in their most ambitious and revelatory album to date.

To confuse parts for the whole is inevitable with Palm. Drummer Hugo Stanley, bassist Gerasimos Livitsanos and guitarists/vocalists/high school sweethearts Eve Alpert and Kasra Kurt started making music together as teenagers, and spent much of their twenties in the kind of proximity unusual for adults, outside of touring bands and the International Space Station. For a number of years the band consumed the lives of its members to a point of exhaustion: “To be honest I think we got a little burnt out. There were times where it wasn’t clear if we’d make another record,” says Alpert. It was only after multiple freak injuries followed by a pandemic, forced a pause - from touring but also from writing, rehearsing, even seeing each other- that the four were able to regroup and see a way forward again.



On their latest effort, Nicks and Grazes, Palm embrace discordance to dazzling effect. “We wanted to reconcile two potentially opposing aesthetics,” Kurt says. “To capture the spontaneous, free energy of our live shows while integrating elements from the traditionally gridded palette of electronic music.” In order to avoid what Kurt refers to as “Palm goes electro,” the musicians spent years educating themselves on the ins and outs of production by learning Ableton while also experimenting with “the percussive, textural, and gestural potential” of their instruments. To this end, the band continued the age-old tradition of instrument-preparation, augmenting guitars with drumsticks, metal rods and, at the suggestion of Charles Bullen (This Heat, Lifetones), coiling rubber-coated gardening wire around the strings. The unruliness of the prepared guitar on songs like “Mirror Mirror” and “Eager Copy” contrasts with the steadfast reproducibility of the album’s electronic elements.



While Palm cite Japanese pop music, dub, and footwork as influences on this album’s sonic palette, they found themselves returning time and again to the artists who inspired them to start the group over a decade ago. “When we were first starting out as a band, we bonded over an appreciation of heavy, aggressive, noisy music,” Alpert reflects. “We wrote parts that were just straight-up metal.” Kurt adds, “I found myself rediscovering and re–falling in love with the visceral, jagged quality of guitars in the music of Glenn Branca, The Fall, Beefheart, and Sonic Youth, all important early Palm influences.” Returning to the fundamentals gave Palm a strong foundation upon which they could experiment freely, resulting in their most ambitious and revelatory album to date.

Some people choose the pages of a diary to spill their innermost feelings
and recount their trials and tribulations - Instead, Chayse Porter has a
palace - It's this metaphorical place where I can go to express myself and
feel safe, he explains
It's this place where you can get all your secrets out in the open and feel at home.
But rather than luxuriate in his regal mental abode, Porter's latest for Earth
Libraries takes listeners on a grand tour, revealing the nooks and crannies of his
heart and mind.Recording on vintage gear and working with producer Brad Timko
redoubles that sense of intimacy, imbuing every take with a bronzy finish. € I've
always really appreciated records that opt for analog, so this one is all just raw
performance, straight to tape, € Porter says. € It gives me time to sit with each
part of the composition, to live more within the song. €
As the album rolls ever forward to its conclusion, the rough edges of the pain and
suffering have softened, and Porter has come to a sense of hopefulness. "It was
very tumultuous to put this album together and express myself openly in this way,
but at the end of the album I'm reassuring myself that there's an opportunity for
growth both personally and interpersonally, having gone through this challenging
time and coming out the other side, € Porter says. At the end of the long and
fascinating tour of Chay's Palace, Porter makes the listener feel the warmth at its
core that he himself has found.
Tracks: Purpling Dawn / Jet Lag / Nobody Wants You (More Than Me) / Penny /
Heat Lamp / Theme from Chay's Palace / Palace Doors / Pacific Inn / Purpling
Dawn Pt. 2 / Blue Star / Yoshi

Ali Farka Touré trekked the world, bringing his beloved Malian music to the masses. Dubbed "the African John Lee Hooker," one could hear strong connections between the two; both employed a bluesy style of play with gritty textures that elicit calm and fury in equal measure. While the influence of Black blues music prevailed, Touré created a West African blend of 'desert blues' that garnered Grammy awards and widespread reverence. Though he transcended in 2006, Ali's musical legacy lives on through his son, Vieux aka "the Hendrix of the Sahara," an accomplished guitarist and champion of Malian music in his own right. On Ali, his collaborative album with Khruangbin, Vieux pays homage to his father by recreating some of his most resonant work, putting new twists on it while maintaining the original's integrity. The result is a rightful ode to a legend. Ali isn't just a greatest hits compilation. It's a lullaby, a remembrance of Ali's life through known highlights and B-sides from his catalog. It is a testament to what happens when creativity is approached through open arms and open hearts. "To me, music is magic, it is spontaneous, it is the energy between people," Vieux says. "I think Khruangbin understands this very well." The genesis of the album dates back to 2019, when Khruangbin, coming off their breakthrough album Con Todo el Mundo, was beginning to playto bigger crowds. The record was finished in 2021, as a global pandemic shuttered businesses and forced us to take stock of what Earth was becoming. Indirectly, Ali captures this as a moment of peace within a raging storm, a conversation between past and present without allegiance to suffering. Now, given Khruangbin's reach as a unit with legions of fans (including the likes of Jay-Z and Paul McCartney), they're poised to bring Malian music to broader groups of listeners. Ali is a masterful work in which the love surrounding it is just as vital as the music itself, driving it to unforeseen places; Vieux and Khruangbin are spreading the good word to a completely new generation. "I hope it takes them somewhere new, or puts them in a place they haven't felt or heard," Lee says. "It is about the love of new friendship and making something beautiful together," Vieux continues. "It is about pouring your love into something old to make it new again. In the end and in a word it is love, that's all."

Ali Farka Touré trekked the world, bringing his beloved Malian music to the masses. Dubbed "the African John Lee Hooker," one could hear strong connections between the two; both employed a bluesy style of play with gritty textures that elicit calm and fury in equal measure. While the influence of Black blues music prevailed, Touré created a West African blend of 'desert blues' that garnered Grammy awards and widespread reverence. Though he transcended in 2006, Ali's musical legacy lives on through his son, Vieux aka "the Hendrix of the Sahara," an accomplished guitarist and champion of Malian music in his own right. On Ali, his collaborative album with Khruangbin, Vieux pays homage to his father by recreating some of his most resonant work, putting new twists on it while maintaining the original's integrity. The result is a rightful ode to a legend. Ali isn't just a greatest hits compilation. It's a lullaby, a remembrance of Ali's life through known highlights and B-sides from his catalog. It is a testament to what happens when creativity is approached through open arms and open hearts. "To me, music is magic, it is spontaneous, it is the energy between people," Vieux says. "I think Khruangbin understands this very well." The genesis of the album dates back to 2019, when Khruangbin, coming off their breakthrough album Con Todo el Mundo, was beginning to playto bigger crowds. The record was finished in 2021, as a global pandemic shuttered businesses and forced us to take stock of what Earth was becoming. Indirectly, Ali captures this as a moment of peace within a raging storm, a conversation between past and present without allegiance to suffering. Now, given Khruangbin's reach as a unit with legions of fans (including the likes of Jay-Z and Paul McCartney), they're poised to bring Malian music to broader groups of listeners. Ali is a masterful work in which the love surrounding it is just as vital as the music itself, driving it to unforeseen places; Vieux and Khruangbin are spreading the good word to a completely new generation. "I hope it takes them somewhere new, or puts them in a place they haven't felt or heard," Lee says. "It is about the love of new friendship and making something beautiful together," Vieux continues. "It is about pouring your love into something old to make it new again. In the end and in a word it is love, that's all."

He might be vocalist in bands such as Brighton-based progressive act Diagonal and psychedelic outfit Baron, but when it comes to his solo work Alex Crispin has typically worked in more wordless fields. Last year the songwriter, vocalist and producer released a triptych of ambient albums, consisting of two older albums in 'Idle Worship' and 'Open Submission', as well as new meditative work in 'Resubmergency'. On his new self-titled album, however, Crispin re-emerges from the cavernous soundscapes to – for the first time – put his vocal and song writing stamp on a record under his own name. “I personally find it easier to create more guarded, moody music, but I was at a point where I wanted to embrace a more universal, intimate and open side to what I might say” Crispin says. “Over time I’d got over certain blocks or preoccupations and so wanted to create something accessible and open hearted, which became a big driver for this record.” Pointedly self-titled to reflect the newfound confidence in his song writing away from the collective of a band, the album’s nine tracks are a warm embrace amidst troubled times. Musically there’s nods to everything from tropicalia and Brazilian MPB, to 80’s dusk pop balladeers The Blue Nile and Paul Simon’s explorations into African music. Lyrically aware of the snowballing turbulence that surrounds us, Crispin in reaction tries to see hope and looks around at the relationships and connections in his life that provide him strength. He opens 'Invisible (To Us)' with the words “Before the world did end, there was just one moment when, everybody thought there might be time, to look around again, to laugh to cry to sing.” Elsewhere, 'Listen & Learn' strikes at the heart of other underlying themes of the record, of the rarity of people opening up, taking on new ideas and allowing change. It’s accompanied with a rich, maximal sound palette of flute and sax that play around each other as Crispin’s vocal chips in with gentle encouragement. “One of the main markers on the album that I was aware of from the start, was to let myself express joy and positivity in the music” he says. “I have come to greatly prize the power of accessibility and universality over artistic 'coolness or trend', much in the same way that so often for me, the greatest pieces of art humans make nowadays are things like Pixar movies, with their combination of undeniable human talent and craft, alongside genuinely moving and accessible themes.” Indeed, there is a cinematic feel to much of Crispin’s own music, something brought over from his ambient creations – although his self-titled album possesses a panorama all of its own. Something like 'When I Reach The Ocean' has a hazy, pastoral feel to it like something out of the Canterbury Folk scene; there’s space between the notes though, which in turn pushes the track out to a greater expanse than the comparatively soft-edged and modest sound palette used to create it. Similarly, the likes of 'Effert' revel in the space afforded to them - in the case of the aforementioned in particular, Crispin lets his voice take a back seat and creates an open wash of sound that he allows the guitar to probe and explore within. “In making any music I am definitely conscious of trying to put in only what is effective” Crispin says. “It is so easy to clutter tracks without realising it, just having the ability to add stuff can just become addictive as it’s so easy to do with recording setups now.” The album started coming together at the end of 2020, with Crispin getting most of the songs to a concrete state, before starting recording in May 2021 with Diagonal bandmates Luke Foster (drums) and Daniel Pomlett (Bass), who put down rhythm tracks. Jazz saxophonist Rob Milne then added parts which would become the glue that held the whole organic aesthetic of the album together. There’s no doubt that lockdown played a part in proceedings, with a kind of forced focus resulting in a need for joyful expression. However, Crispin and his partner also suffered a bereavement which led to her travelling for large periods of time. “It was a very intense and difficult time and I think some of the intensity of emotion of that situation coupled with being alone must have inevitably contributed to the work itself” he says. It's perhaps why when even in moments of sheer happiness, such as the 'Sabu’s' breezily euphoric opener, Crispin ponders: “No-one really cares beyond this moment, and even when it's here, it's never here”. It’s the first of several bittersweet moments on the record that give the album its weight. On this new LP, Crispin recognises that sadness doesn’t mean throwing out hope, and that even in moments of joy there’s still a path ahead of you to take.

Minru is the project of Caroline Blomqvist, a Swedish musician based in Berlin. Woven from light and shadow, the interplay of her folk and indie-rock blend appears from a personal space of finding life after death. On her debut LP »Liminality« she paints melody in soft tones, whispering secrets to navigate feelings of loss.

Built around winding layers of acoustic guitar, piano, and strings, Minru is a surprisingly uplifting and stirring testament to Blomqvist’s own suffering from the passing of someone close to her. Returning to Berlin from Sweden feelings of grief, confusion, and pain travelled with her, and these emotions prompted the journey both of and within the album, heard as a dreamlike actualisation of wandering lost between them. "I read that Carl Jung used the word "»Liminality«” to describe the psychological process of transitioning. I instantly felt seen; it reflected my own experience and the feelings I carried whilst making the album – a sense of the old certainties being gone, but the new not being quite there yet,” she says.

Defined as "the threshold separating one space from another" »Liminality« moves between feeling the ground beneath your feet fall away, fighting through the darkness and the doubt, and the emerging shades of hope and light as you painstakingly make peace with mortality and find yourself as a person again. "I am happy to have encapsulated this moment of time in sound," Blomqvist says, "it will always be there as a memory."

Flourishing from a preferred position of solitude, »Liminality« sees Blomqvist’s vision radiate with intensity from her home-based studio in Neukölln - a small, 2-room apartment with squeaky old wooden floors. Capturing the intimacy of the space, she recorded vocals and synth on gear partly borrowed from friends (to swiftly reunite it with its owners), and the songs flow with a stream of consciousness as feelings become entwined with melody. Time-restraint drew the process to a natural close, preventing Blomqvist from losing herself to experimentation. “Maybe I would have been stuck in »Liminality«, trying out sounds forever,” she suggests of the way ‘Into the well’s instrumental swims into a warm stream of synth pads. "It’s the cosiest moment on the album,” she says, “Cosy is a feeling I always strive for in life."

Finished and self-produced at a Berlin-Lichtenberg recording studio alongside musical friends (Povel Widestrand, Tobias Blessing, Sunniva Lilian Shaw Of-Tordarroch, Marlene Becher and Liv Solveig Wagner), the result is beautifully detailed and rich like the folk of her Swedish roots. First picking up a guitar as a kid and becoming obsessed with it, she would skip school to spend extra hours mastering the instrument, grappling to perfect the ‘Stairway to Heaven’ intro. “As a child I was fascinated by my dad’s acoustic guitars around the house and would hit the strings to make them sound,” she recalls. After attending music high school in Gothenburg and playing in bands during her teens, Blomqvist later moved to Germany. As well as enjoying walks at Tempelhofer Feld and coffee at Leuchtstoff café, she performed with Tuvaband, Adna, and Tara Nome Doyle and played in Berlin venues Loophole and Schokoladen, where music became her world. With the passing of time she felt a growing urge to find an outlet for her own songs; Minru was the answer along with her first »Yearnings« EP.

Now writing whenever she returns to Sweden, within the calm and stillness of her family’s mountainside cabin, her skilfully constructed arrangements summon the comforting atmosphere of home. “I hope listeners will feel inspired to slow down a bit, create, draw, cook something. Just be in the moment that is now.” »Liminality« is the kind of record that rewards attention. Give this album your time, it will give you its soul.

nothing,nowhere. commented on the new album detailing, “TRAUMA FACTORY is an accumulation of songs written during a confusing time. it is about accepting the present and following your true north through the pain and suffering of human life. I wanted to make an album that was truly genreless and inspire others to challenge themselves artistically. I believe the most inspiring art is unpredictable and unrestrictive. to me that’s what TRAUMA FACTORY is.”

Over the course of 15 tracks, TRAUMA FACTORY cuts deep and finds nothing,nowhere. once again emerging from darkness, shedding external expectation, and moving forward into the glow of pure creation. Whether it be the anesthetized beats and intoxicating lull of “love or chemistry,” the cold piano-laden longing of “crave,” or the emotional immediacy of “upside down,” nothing,nowhere. paints from a wide palette of pain.

nothing,nowhere. is the musical endeavor of Vermont songwriter, singer and guitarist Joe Mulherin. For Mulherin, nothing,nowhere. is about a connection. It’s one he finds with fans around the world, who gather to see him play on tour and to listen to his songs online. It’s that connection that urges the singer to place his fears aside and step onstage each night to share his art. He sees the potential to help, to make a change, however small it may be and that is why he brings his music out of the Vermont wildness.

The Nonesuch debut of Hurray for the Riff Raff (aka Alynda Segarra), LIFE ON EARTH, is a departure for the Bronx-born, New Orleans-based singer/songwriter. Its eleven new “nature punk” tracks on the theme of survival are music for a world in flux – songs about thriving, not just surviving, while disaster is happening. Hurray for the Riff Raff tours North America this spring, beginning March 19 in Atlanta and continuing through April 20 in Nashville, with stops in Austin, Chicago, Los Angeles, and New York, among others. International tour dates will be announced shortly.

For her eighth full-length album, Segarra (they/she) drew inspiration from The Clash, Beverly Glenn-Copeland, Bad Bunny, and the author of Emergent Strategy, adrienne maree brown. Recorded during the pandemic, Life on Earth was produced by Brad Cook (Waxahatchee, Bon Iver, Kevin Morby).

Life on Earth’s first single, ‘RHODODENDRON’, is about “finding rebellion in plant life. Being called by the natural world and seeing the life that surrounds you in a way you never have. A mind expansion. A psychedelic trip. A spiritual breakthrough. Learning to adapt, and being open to the wisdom of your landscape. Being called to fix things in your own backyard, your own community,” says Segarra.

Of the ‘Rhododendron’ video, which was directed by New Orleans-based artist Lucia Honey, Segarra says: “It is really far out and fun. I got this bodysuit that just looks like the inside of the human body. It looks like you’re skinless. It’s in a scene where I’m playing to an audience of plants. Just really absurd, but I put that suit on and I was like man, this feels really good. It feels like, ‘This is who I am. Let’s just take the skin off.’

“It reminds me a little bit of Kids in the Hall,” they continue. “With this ‘Rhododendron’ shoot, something clicked in me where I was like, ‘All I have to do is be myself.’ I had been thinking that I had to be something bigger than myself. I felt like I was just never quite making the mark and then something clicked where I was like, ‘I just gotta be me. I could do that. I could show up and be me. And if people don’t like it, then I don’t know what to fucking tell them.’ It was like a brain shift of, ‘Oh, this can be fun. It doesn’t have to be suffering.’ With so many videos and photo shoots before, it really felt like suffering. I felt so uncomfortable being perceived. I didn’t know who I was.”

Honey adds: “We wanted to create something surreal, playful, and saturated that indulged heavily in the aesthetic of the early ‘90s. Alynda and I had many overlapping visual and philosophical references which sparked the initial collaboration. We wanted to make this video an homage to Gregg Araki’s Teenage Apocalypse trilogy but as a nature documentary crossover. I came across Araki’s work as a queer teenager, and he’s always been a big inspiration. Sex, blood, punk rock, camp, etc.

“We live in a moment where the future is bleaker and more unknown than ever, so there becomes a deep comfort in nostalgia and reliving the past. Through our talks, I realised Alynda’s new album touches on many of these same subjects, but perhaps in reverse; running from a past that is always haunting you. Shifting into a more refined self/identity through confronting one’s trauma and baggage. It was easy to reach collaborative synergy for this video project because we’re both interested in tackling similar issues.”

Alynda Segarra was born and raised in the Bronx, which they left at the age of seventeen, running away from everything and everyone they knew, hopping freight trains or hitchhiking across the country in the company of a band of street urchins. Segarra moved to New Orleans in 2007 and formed two bands: Dead Man’s Street Orchestra and Hurray for the Riff Raff. In 2015, Segarra decamped to Nashville, then to New York, to make her most recent album, 2016’s critically praised The Navigator, an ambitious and fully realized concept album that was her quest to reclaim her Puerto Rican identity. Segarra’s previous records as Hurray for the Riff Raff are Crossing the Rubicon (EP, 2007), It Don’t Mean I Don’t Love You (2008), Young Blood Blues (2010), Hurray for the Riff Raff (2011), Look Out Mama (2012), My Dearest Darkest Neighbor (2013), and Small Town Heroes (2014).

Blue light. No heat. A glacial wall of denser-than-dense sound. Dallas Texas’ FROZEN SOUL lives up to their name as the sound of death metal at its most cold and classic. Riff after slow, grinding riff, there’s no mistaking the themes of isolation and suffering that permeate the quintet’s massive sonic missives. “The feeling I’m getting from playing in FROZEN SOUL is powerful in a way I wasn’t getting from other bands I’ve played in before”, says frontman Chad Green. “The sound. The lyrics. Even the logo itself has a harshness to it that just feels powerful and cold. Add to that the depression of dealing with real life and the venomous people that can inhabit it and the vibe of the band just makes sense.”
FROZEN SOUL’s brand of straightforward, in-your-face death metal is a gasp of fresh air in a genre that’s stretched the very limits of technicality. Fully formed in 2018, the quintet has rapidly made a name for itself and churned the underground with a sound that evokes the old school sound of bands like Obituary, Mortician and Bolt Thrower. That reverence for death metal’s roots was apparent from Frozen Soul’s initial four-song Encased In Ice demo (which includes a cover of Mortician’s “Witch’s Coven”) that was released in early 2019 on California’s cave dwelling, knuckle dragging, Maggot Stomp Records.

Mystery Jets announce that their sixth studio album ‘A Billion Heartbeats’ will be released on 27th September on Caroline International. The band also release ‘Screwdriver’, the first single to be taken from the album.

Screwdriver is an uncompromising look at the rise of the rebranded alt-right in the UK, built around a powerfully positive message: "Fight them with love / then the world will be ours".

Lead singer Blaine Harrison says of the song, “Screwdriver is about the mechanics of intolerance. Looking back at times of economic instability in history, we see how easily deep chasms grow in society and the population seeks change wherever it is most convincingly promised. Conflict arises as cultures and belief systems clash, unwilling to accept one another’s place in society, because we are fed the rhetoric that our neighbours are those responsible for our problems: then inevitably nationalism once more raises its ugly head above the parapet. But whereas political agendas fuel divisiveness, music unites and reminds us of all that we have in common. The message of Screwdriver is not a pessimistic one - because perhaps faced with confrontation we can find understanding, and even maybe learn how to listen to, and love one another.”

Each room of the house in the video is a metaphor for the different sections of society in the UK. It wraps around the narrative of the song, that in order to overcome adversity, you have to “Fight Them With Love”. The visual showcases the song’s inherent message, clashing aggressiveness with tenderness, and culminates in showing after anger, we can always come together through love.
All great albums start from a unique perspective. But try a window on the Strand, in an abandoned office block, overlooking the kind of political upheaval London hasn’t seen in a generation. Blaine Harrison was living as a property guardian right around the corner from Trafalgar Square when he found himself witness to an entire year of protests. Every weekend from January 2017 on, people were marching for a different cause: "In the space of six months it was Black Lives Matter, the huge ‘Our NHS’ march, Unite for Europe," he recalls. "Then the solidarity sleep-out organised by Help Refugees, where we slept in Whitehall for the night... The protestors would wake me up in the morning. I’d just walk down and join in.”

Over the course of that year, Mystery Jets' sixth long-player, A Billion Heartbeats, was born. "This album wasn’t about making pointed opinions,” says Blaine. “It was about being a mirror for what’s going on, reflecting back the way people are feeling.” By turns tender and fierce, abstract and full of classic rock energy, A Billion Heartbeats achieves a balance of passion, fear and hope. Amid the colourful cavalcade of rich harmonies, heavy guitars and rallying cries, the album’s essential message - about personal responsibility, and the power in becoming engaged. In a sense, it's not just their "state of the nation” record but their “state of a generation” record too.

We increasingly hear from musicians that music should be an escape these days - that there’s enough suffering in the world, enough misery on the news, without writings songs about it too. A Billion Heartbeats makes all that sound like a bit of a cop-out. These are songs of protest that get the heart racing in joy; high on hope, and serious in their message. Proof, basically, that music speaks louder than words.

Veteran NYC based Scottish electronic musician Drew McDowall's latest work is his loftiest, most liturgical, and least industrial outing to date —and potentially the apex of his recent discography.Named after an ancient Greek word for votive offering, Agalmaexudes a hooded, devotional aura, creaking and keeling under vast rafters of stone, stained glass, and shredded wires. It's a music of majesty and mystery but also modernity, McDowall's refined modular system shape-shifting strings, piano, pipe organ, and choral masses into disorienting synthetic mirages of the sacred. He cites the intersection of “joy, terror, and the elegiac” as a centering inspiration –or, phrased more bluntly, “that 'what the fuck is going on' feeling.”



As a career collaborator himself, with stints in Coil, Psychic TV, and countless other shorter-lived partnerships, it's telling that McDowall chose this project to gather such an impressive spectrum of peers. Italian synthesist Caterina Barbieri, American drone organist Kali Malone, prolific multi-instrumentalistRobert Aiki Aubrey Lowe, operatic Humanbeast vocalist Maralie Armstrong-Rial, Saudi producer MSYLMA, and warped futurist beat-makers Bashar Suleiman and Elvin Brandhi cameo across the album's 42 minutes, contouring McDowall's nuanced negative spaces with shudders, shadows, and shivering flickers of serenity. Each of them shines in their spotlight, elevating these elusive alchemical states into surreal revelations of texture and transcendence.



McDowall's original working title for the record is revealing: Ritual Music.He speaks of his creative practice in ceremonial terms, negating binaries by seeking the middle path to anuminousequilibrium that erases the distinction between the inner and outer worlds.These compositions feel similarly processional and intuitive, at the crossroads of holiness and hallucination, the sacred vertigo of yawning naves rising into untouchable night skies. It's a vision of industrial music as enigma and invocation, cryptic hymnals of shroudedbeautysummoned in catacombs and crumbling cathedrals.



Despite its depths, Agalmais also an album of immediacy and emotion. Celestial laments of and for times of unrest and suffering. McDowall characterizes his initial intention for this music as an to attempt to convey experiences he felt incapable of putting into words: “To try and approach sublimity, or at least acknowledge it in some way.”Agalmamore than acknowledges the ineffable –it embodies it.

Ubuntu Music is excited to announce the signing of Skeltr for the worldwide release of their album, ‘Dorje’. Skeltr began as a late night, post-gig session between Sam Healey (keys) and Craig Hanson (drums) in the dusty old cotton mills of Manchester. Forging a shared connection inspired by Post-bop and Modern groove, the pair developed a tightly knit, highly musical duo. Their first UK gig in 2017 at the Manchester Jazz Festival saw the duo sell all of their physical records of their debut release in one day. Within a few months of this auspicious start, the lads found themselves supporting L.A sensation KNOWER on UK tour, appearing on JazzFM, Worldwide FM, listed as ‘ones to watch’ in Jazzwise Magazine as well as performing across European jazz festivals, including Reykjavik Jazz Festival, InJazz, Rotterdam and the famous Osloscene Club in Norway. A tragic accident saw hard times fall upon the Duo as Sam suffered a serious hand injury. However, after operations and months of rehabilitation, Sam was able to return to his saxophone and continue playing music again. Having had chance to compose during rehab, the Duo immediately hit the studio and recorded their second album, named after Sam’s new-born son, Dorje. A nucleus of Saxophone and Drums set to scapes of synths, vocals and guest features, Skeltr's second album, 'Dorje', combines heartfelt statements of sensitive, illuminating, incensed improvisation which stem from ardent and fluent melodies. Craig ondrums is as much an expressive protagonist of the music as he is a foundation with deep roots, leading to intricate interplay between the Duo. Themes include understanding the nature of happiness, self-examination and acceptance in aquest to achieve a positive mental state. Ultimately, ‘Dorje’ seeks to provide the listener with a space in which to explore their own relativities with guidance, inspiration and accompaniment. Sam describes the project, saying, “What a wonderful experience it has been to create this album. We look forward to spreading the music far and wide with positive intentions. The sounds are crafted with a passionate energy in our hearts and I hope otherswill be able to feel and hear that.” Concerning Skeltr’s new relationship with Ubuntu Music, Healey continues, “It has been a three-year journey to bring this album to fruition and we’re so happy to have met Martin (Hummel) and Ubuntu Music as the album was coming to completion. This auspicious timing makes the new relationship all the more rewarding. The Ubuntu Music team’s knowledge, experience and phenomenal work ethic are vastly inspiring and will help Skeltr to reach a much wider audience across the world. We look forward to a close relationship with theLabel as we strive to bring great musical offerings to many people.” Martin Hummel, Director of Ubuntu Music, said, “These guys have breath-taking talent. I first came in touch with Sam on New Year’s Day (probably not the best day to do so) and told him what I thought of their music. It’s deep. It’s spiritual. And it shakes your senses, inside out and to your very core. Sam is meticulous in everything he does, and you can hear this in the recording. If you want to feed your soul with the best musical vibes, check this out.”

Veteran NYC based Scottish electronic musician Drew McDowall's latest work is his loftiest, most liturgical, and least industrial outing to date —and potentially the apex of his recent discography.Named after an ancient Greek word for votive offering, Agalmaexudes a hooded, devotional aura, creaking and keeling under vast rafters of stone, stained glass, and shredded wires. It's a music of majesty and mystery but also modernity, McDowall's refined modular system shape-shifting strings, piano, pipe organ, and choral masses into disorienting synthetic mirages of the sacred. He cites the intersection of “joy, terror, and the elegiac” as a centering inspiration –or, phrased more bluntly, “that 'what the fuck is going on' feeling.”



As a career collaborator himself, with stints in Coil, Psychic TV, and countless other shorter-lived partnerships, it's telling that McDowall chose this project to gather such an impressive spectrum of peers. Italian synthesist Caterina Barbieri, American drone organist Kali Malone, prolific multi-instrumentalistRobert Aiki Aubrey Lowe, operatic Humanbeast vocalist Maralie Armstrong-Rial, Saudi producer MSYLMA, and warped futurist beat-makers Bashar Suleiman and Elvin Brandhi cameo across the album's 42 minutes, contouring McDowall's nuanced negative spaces with shudders, shadows, and shivering flickers of serenity. Each of them shines in their spotlight, elevating these elusive alchemical states into surreal revelations of texture and transcendence.



McDowall's original working title for the record is revealing: Ritual Music.He speaks of his creative practice in ceremonial terms, negating binaries by seeking the middle path to anuminousequilibrium that erases the distinction between the inner and outer worlds.These compositions feel similarly processional and intuitive, at the crossroads of holiness and hallucination, the sacred vertigo of yawning naves rising into untouchable night skies. It's a vision of industrial music as enigma and invocation, cryptic hymnals of shroudedbeautysummoned in catacombs and crumbling cathedrals.



Despite its depths, Agalmais also an album of immediacy and emotion. Celestial laments of and for times of unrest and suffering. McDowall characterizes his initial intention for this music as an to attempt to convey experiences he felt incapable of putting into words: “To try and approach sublimity, or at least acknowledge it in some way.”Agalmamore than acknowledges the ineffable –it embodies it.

The Bees are a textbook case of the chew and spit cycle that was the late 80’s South African music industry. Although their unknown story is likely unique, it is just as likely that it is no different to that of many other young artists who dreamed of getting their music heard at the time.

By 1988, the independent record label was no longer as uncommon as it had been at the beginning of the decade. As the 80s went on, more seasoned A&R reps and Producers that had gained experience and connections from their work under major labels would be trying to cash in on a market they helped create. Without the need of big rooms or expensive recording equipment, the digital advancements allowed many Producers to open or work in smaller studios and promote unknown artists under their own imprints. They would then have their catalogs marketed and distributed by the same major labels they had been working for just years prior. This would open up the possibility of a new era of stars as potential talent no longer had to be pitched to major labels in hopes of them taking a chance on a new signee over their already established artists. With the market growing and a struggle to keep up with the demand for new sounds this agreement would allow the major labels to put new emerging artists or groups on their catalog with little investment and high reward if it happened to be a hit.

ON Records was just one of the independent players at the time. Ronnie Robot had just signed the unlikely trio The Bees in hopes of adding a hit group to his label roster that consisted of solo acts. Despite the debut’s fresh house inspired sound, it failed to catch on was outsold by the bubblegum disco the label was known for. Over the years unsold back stock and promos would build up with the distributor. Luckily this allowed sealed copies from the label’s catalog to survive into the 90s when the distributor’s stock was unloaded and picked up by legendary Johannesburg jazz shop Kohinoor. Here sealed copies of the Bees first attempt sat under appreciated for over 20 years before becoming a hot title after they started circulating online and became club staples. This is how the first album of an unknown group with no success was able to become a collectors item and earn a reissue over 25 years later.

With their first record behind them The Bees were ready move forward and get back into the studio. A suggestion from producers had the trio change camps and go work with the newly formed Creative Sound Recordings, the label that promised “Music for the Future” and ended up being an essential studio in the early years of Kwaito. They would work with producer Chris Ghelakis and guitarist George Vardas, while a young Marvin Moses sat behind the desk. Musically the sophomore album was as good as a follow up as you could get. Building on the first album, Mashonisa delivers catchy melodies backed by heavy drum programming that would score points with any Pantsula. The Black Box inspired “ Never Give Up” was one of two tracks chosen to be pressed as the promo for the album, hoping to trick listeners with their catchy version of the hit( A year later the label would release their first volume of Black Box covers sang by neo soul diva BB, it would be a great seller). The label printed up an unknown amount of these in a last attempt to push the release in Shabeens and on Radio. The cheaper route of flooding the market with promo copies would only pay off 25 years later when unplayed copies started being rediscovered and had survived the years in a quantity that original run of the full album could not. Once again it was clear that with no mainstream appeal, the quality of the music on its own was not enough to garner any success at the time. The album flopped worse than their first and failed to make it past it’s initial run, making it one of the harder titles to get from the CSR catalog.

Mashonisa would be the last attempt from the Bees. They would disappear from the scene as quickly as they appeared. Of the three members it is only known that lead Singer Solomon Phiri continued in music fronting a wave dance group before he mysteriously vanished in 1993, never to be heard from again. Through a combination of luck and circumstance the group, which is unknown in South Africa to even the most plugged in musicians, producers and radio hosts of the time, managed to finally get some of the recognition they deserved 30 years later. Unfortunately this small blip of fame would happen with none of the band members present to give their side of the story, or even aware of how their two albums became popular enough to be printed on different continents in a new millennia. The Bees suffered the same fate as countless other artists of the time, who thanks to emerging independent labels and willing producers were given an opportunity to have a short career, only to be replaced by the meat grinder of the music industry when they failed to produce a hit.

It goes without saying that the global metal scene would not be the same without Sepultura. For 35 years now, the Brazilian icons are not only a band revered worldwide; they have been, are and forever will be at the very forefront of Thrash Metal, trailblazing ever since they released their long-since legendary debut album “Morbid Visions” in 1986.
While quickly establishing themselves as leaders of the second wave of Thrash already in the late eighties, to this day they never came even close to stagnation. “Quadra”, their mighty new undertaking, is proof of a will unbroken, a thirst unquenched and a quality so staggeringly high it’s a wonder this band doesn’t implode. Now three albums deep into what may very well be their strongest incarnation yet – uniting the talents of old-school members Andreas Kisser (guitars, vocals) and Paulo Xisto Pinto Jr. (bass), vocal force of nature Derrick Leon Green (vocals) and drummer Eloy Casagrande – Sepultura are an unleashed power to be reckoned with, uniting bucketloads of experience and youthful vigour in a totally revived way.
“On ‘Quadra’, we felt the urge to revisit that old thrash feeling of ‘Beneath the Remains’ or ‘Arise“,’ only seen through the eyes of today,” Andreas Kisser utters the magic words. “Add to that the tribal percussion, the orchestral elements, the choirs, the melodies and the clean vocals and you get a thorough run-through of our entire career, backed by a very contemporary approach.” Fuelled by an energy almost uncanny for a band that has been active for so long, Sepultura storm through a contemporary thrash monument, backed by sublime melodies, a very eerie atmosphere and a fiendishly high level of technicality. Kisser is appreciating these compliments, still maintaining his very down to earth approach. “We don’t heed the past and we don’t try to be preoccupied by the future too much,” he shrugs. “We’re in the now, trying every day to make Sepultura a little bit better. That’s what keeping us strong.”
And that’s what they have been doing for the last 30+ years. Album after album, tour after tour, no gap in between records longer than three years. “Music is all we do,” Kisser states matter-of-factly. “If it wouldn’t be for Sepultura,” he laughs, “I would be a sad and lonely guy. Sepultura is what we are.” And “Quadra” is living testimony to that. The old Sepultura echo through the very fibre of the songs in all its raw and morbid splendour, but yet it’s the present, the experienced and refined beast that is Sepultura in 2020 that’s blasting out thrash metal anthems for a fucked-up age.
With now 15 albums under their belts, Sepultura are the work horses of the metal world, always ready to attack. In many ways, “Quadra” broadens the vision the Brazilian thrash troopers had on “Machine Messiah” (2017), again relying on the impeccable talent of Swedish producing giant Jens Bogren and his Fascination Street Studios. “He is so full of passion, it’s unbelievable, man,” Kisser raves. “He’s really there, he really cares about the projects he’s doing. For Sepultura, he’s like the fifth member of the band. The chemistry was so amazing, 99 percent of what we were trying do to actually worked. That was insane!” Even after more than 30 years at the forefront of international thrash, guitarist Kisser sounds positively baffled by working with Bogren. “We felt like we were in our rehearsal room.”
Bringing together a monumental grandeur and a wild, untamed ferocity, Sepultura stepped up their game musically – and conceptually as well. “We were possessed by the number four, by the numerology of it”, Kisser starts to explain. “I divided the album into four parts as if we were doing a double vinyl. Side one is the pure and raw thrash side. Side two brings in the rhythms and percussion from our ‘Roots’ era. Three is getting a bit experimental and four brings forth the melodies and the acoustic guitars.” With John North’s book “Quadrivium” as a further source of inspiration, Sepultura dive deep into a mystical world full of hidden meanings. “You have four seasons and twelve month in a year just to pick one example. A lot of stuff in our culture is divided like that.”
Plus, Quadra also is the Portuguese word for ‘sport court’ that by definition is a limited area of land, with regulatory demarcations, where according to a set of rules the game takes place,” he adds. “We all come from different Quadras. The countries, all nations with their borders and traditions; culture, religions, laws, education and a set of rules where life takes place.” In the Quadra of thrash, however, we all are the same. And we bow our heads in unison to the mighty leader that is Sepultura.

When acclaimed South African musician Guy Buttery first sought out Dr. Kanada Narahari in late 2016, it was as his patient.

“It was a dark time.” Buttery recalls, “I had been bedridden for months and had been suffering from debilitating bouts of fatigue which no diagnosis or medication could help me get to the bottom of. When I first met Kanada, I was at the stage where even picking up my guitar to make music had become a joyless and taxing exercise.”

As Buttery’s searched for a cure, a family member recommended he see Kanada an Ayurvedic doctor who had relocated to South Africa from India and set up a practice in Durban. It was during this consultation, that the musician first experienced how Narahari infused the healing properties of Indian Classical music into his practice. Rather than treating him with a smorgasbord of pharmaceuticals, Narahari played his sitar and set Buttery on a strict daily diet of Raga’s to fast track his recovery.

Buttery was not only struck by his doctor’s musical talents but by the powerful healing properties inherent in his sitar compositions. When he left Narahari’s doctors room that afternoon, he asserts he was feeling decidedly clearer, lighter and stronger.

“Diving into Kanada’s music was definitely one of the reasons I'm still here today.” he admits. “The consistent tonal centre at the heart of Indian Classical Music, literally became my support pillar over this period. A central core of sorts in which to fall back on, strengthen and discover.”

Narahari as it turned out, was not only a prominent music therapist (and one of the only Ayurvedic doctors practicing in South Africa) but like Buttery, a highly accomplished musician with a devoted following back in his homeland.

Born in a small village along the Western Ghats in Karnataka, India, Narahari, at the age of nine, had enrolled to study Carnatic classical vocal and developed an interest in Hindustani Classical music with a particular passion for the sitar. While Buttery had secured his reputation as one of South Africa’s musical treasures, a multi-instrumentalist who commands sold-out performances both locally and internationally and more recently had been awarded the prestigious 2018 Standard Bank Young Artist for Music.
From this consultation, a friendship developed between the two musicians with Buttery soon inviting Narahari to join him in his studio. But it wasn’t all plain sailing in the beginning. While Buttery and Narahari’s sensibilities were very much aligned, there were a range of cultural and musical influences, nuances and inflections that first needed to be navigated and understood.
“I suppose we had to find a common ground.” Buttery says, before adding, “Which in the end turned out to be pretty "uncommon ground" for the both of us.”
It was after a few intensive sessions together that something exhilarating began to emerge. What began as a few idle improvisations soon evolved into feverish and lengthier jams. Whenever time permitted, the musicians would meet, descending deeper into the emerging sounds, while reimagining the realms that existed between their African and Indian heritages.
Over the next few months, the duo would rack up over fifteen hours of recordings in studio, and it was up to Buttery to shape the material into an album which they collectively titled Nāḍī, which Narahari translates from the Sanskrit as "The Channel" or "An Internal River".

During this period, Narahari bestowed upon Buttery, the moniker Guruji while Guy would refer to him, in affectionate return, as Panditji. Each time the musicians would meet, the studio space would be cleared by an impromptu ritual, with Guruji burning African Imphepho while Panditji would chant a Sanskrit mantra dusting Indian Agarbatti clouds over their instruments.

Once the room had been made hazy with this aromatic alchemy (with the ancestors welcomed in) the musicians would pick up their instruments and plunge into shimmering tides of sound. Reflecting on these sessions, Narahari recalls the immense creative freedom he felt throughout: “Guy and I tried to wander as much as possible, without any speculative, preoccupied ideologies or limitations. Love remained at the forefront of our journey together.”

“Those evenings we spent together in the studio” adds Buttery, “felt incredibly rich with purpose and a profound sense of freedom. While improvising, anything could happen and mostly did.”

On a first listen, the tracks on Nāḍī emerge as salty, humid invocations to the inscrutable depths and misty myths of the Indian ocean-- that vast body of water that stretches between, and laps the shorelines, of the artists’ respective homelands.

When asked to describe the sound him and Narahari refined, Buttery prefers to relay a series of evocative images.

“For me” he explains, “Nāḍī is a lighthouse, a beacon that resides at the bottom of the ocean.” As Buttery envisions it, “what once offered light to guide ships to safety, has been submerged and re-purposed by marine life as a coral-reef temple. Similarly, this sunken lighthouse exists as a concealed cenotaph, memorializing the ancient sea-routes and passages that once connected the two distant lands.”

On paper this may sound obscure but listening to the songs, it serves as an apt metaphor.

Across each meditative movement, listeners are able to relive the journey, immersing themselves in a series of incantations, replete with high dynamics, delicate African-Indian inflections and virtuoso string playing of an entirely new order. Further complimenting the fusion of musical dialects are a range of guest artists including Shane Cooper on bass, Thandi Ntuli on vocals, Chris Letcher on organ, Ronan Skillen on tabla and percussion and Julian Redpath on guitar, synth and backing vocals.

Now like the submerged lighthouse, the recordings stand as a monument, a marker and snapshot of this fortuitous meeting, a tribute to the healing gifts of Guruji and Panditji in performance. It’s a process that already, both musicians look back on with reverence and nostalgia.

Buttery ruminates in closing, that when he first met Kanada his illness correlated with the biggest drought South Africa had experienced in many years “…for whatever reason, whenever we would connect and make music together, the sky would tend to open. Even if it was just a few drops. This went on for months, until finally the drought dissipated and my health had been restored.”

By the time the heavens did open across the East Coast, a deep friendship had been forged and with it abundant musical offerings poured down. A treasured sample of which we able to share in every time we press play and immerse ourselves in the sacrosanct musical universe that is Nāḍī.

In Sudan, the political and cultural are inseparable. In 1989, a coup brought a hardline religious government to power. Music was violently condemned. Many musicians and artists were persecuted, tortured, forced to flee into exile — and even murdered, ending one of the most beloved music eras in all of Africa and largely denying Sudan's gifted instrumentalists, singers, and poets, from strutting their creative heritage on the global stage.

What came before in a special era that protected and promoted the arts was one of the richest music scenes anywhere in the world. Although Sudanese styles are endlessly diverse, this compilation celebrates the golden sound of the capital, Khartoum. Each chapter of the cosmopolitan city's tumultuous musical story is covered through 16 tracks: from the hypnotic violin and accordion-driven orchestral music of the 1970s that captured the ears and hearts of Africa and the Arabic-speaking world, to the synthesizer and drum machine music of the 1980s, and the music produced in exile in the 1990s. The deep kicks of tum tum and Nubian rhythms keep the sound infectious.

Sudan of old had music everywhere: roving sound systems and ubiquitous bands and orchestras kept Khartoum's sharply dressed youth on their feet. Live music was integral to cultural life, producing a catalog of concert recordings. In small arenas and large outdoor venues, musical royalty of the day built Khartoum's reputation as ground zero for innovation and technique that inspired a continent.

Musicians in Ethiopia and Somalia frequently point to Sudan's biggest golden era stars as idols. Mention Mohammed Wardi — a legendary Sudanese singer and activist akin to Fela Kuti in stature and impact in his music and politics — and they often look to the heavens. A popular story is of one man from Mali who walked for three months across the Sahel to Sudan because the father of the woman he wanted to marry would only allow it if he got him a signed cassette from Wardi himself. Saied Khalifa is said to be the one of the few singers to make Ethiopian emperor Haile Selassie smile.

Such is the stature of Sudanese singers and the reputation of Sudanese music, particularly in the "Sudanic Belt," a cultural zone that stretches from Djibouti all the way west to Mauritania, covering much of the Sahara and the Sahel, lands where Sudanese artists are household names and Sudanese poems are regularly used as lyrics until today to produce the latest hits. Sudanese cassettes often sold more in Cameroon and Nigeria than at home.

But years of anti-music sentiment have made recordings in Sudan difficult to source. Ostinato's team traveled to Ethiopia, Somalia, Djibouti, and Egypt in search of the timeless cultural artifacts that hold the story of one of Africa's most mesmerizing cultures. That these cassette tape and vinyl recordings were mainly found in Sudan's neighbors is a testament to Sudanese music's widespread appeal.

With our Sudanese partner and co-compiler Tamador Sheikh Eldin Gibreel, a once famous poet and actress in '70s Khartoum, Ostinato's fifth album, following our Grammy-nominated "Sweet As Broken Dates," revives the enchanting harmonies, haunting melodies, and relentless rhythms of Sudan's brightest years, fully restored, remastered and packaged luxuriously in a triple LP gatefold and double CD bookcase to match the regal repute of Sudanese music.
A 20,000-word liner note booklet gives voice to the singers silenced by an oppressive regime.

Take a sail down the Blue and White Nile as they pass through Khartoum, carrying with them an ancient history and a never-ending stream of poems and songs. It takes two Niles to sing a melody.

On The 50th Anniversary Of The Band's Inception At An Event In Harlem, Ny To Commemorate Malcolm X's Birthday On 19 May 1968, Influential Spoken Word Artists, Poets And Commentators The Last Poets Are Set To Make A Glorious And Relevant Return With Their First Album In Over 20 Years, 'understand What Black Is'.

Produced By Ben Lamdin (nostaglia 77) And Brighton Legend Prince Fatty, Whose Speciality Is Traditional Reggae And Dub Production's, 'understand What Black Is' Is A Ten-track Album Which Speaks Of A Revolutionary Struggle Defined By Both Race And Identity, That Has Never Sounded More Relevant. Released On Studio Rockers, There Will Also Be An Accompanying Single Featuring Remixes Of The Title Track "understand What Black Is" By Mala (south London Collective Digital Mystikz) And Uk Dance Music Innovators Dego And Kaidi.

Since The Initial Line-up Of Dahveed Nelson, Gylan Kain And Felipe Luciano Formed In East Harlem's Marcus Garvey Park, The Last Poets Have Produced Under Various Guises Over The Subsequent Years. However, It Was Their Seminal Output, Namely 1970's 'the Last Poets' Under Both Umar Bin Hassan And Abiodun Oyewole That Secured Their Legacy, Becoming One Of The Most Important Influences In Early Hip Hop.

Throughout The Last 20 Years, The Band Have Remained Largely On Hiatus. But Their Influence Could Still Be Felt With Their Tracks Being Sampled By The Notorious B.i.g, Nwa, A Tribe Called Quest, Dr.dre And Snoop Dogg. Umar Has Recorded Various Solo Albums And Featured On Common And Kanye West's Grammy Nominated 'the Corner'. Abiodun Appeared On The Red Hot Organization's Album, Stolen Moments Which Was Named "album Of The Year" By Time. He Also Conducts Weekly Open House Poetry Readings, Where He Constructively Critiques Upcoming Poets, Helping To Nurture Them. He Has Also Conducted Classes At Columbia University, Where He Teaches Creative Writing.

The Inauguration Of Donald Trump As Us President In 2016 Inspired Hassan And Oyewole To Resurrect The Group To Create A Brand New Record, Modern And Edgy, And Deeply Relevant And Reflective Of Our Times.

Tracks On 'understand What Black Is' Include 'how Many Bullets', Which Bridles With Defiance As Oyewole Works Through A Litany Of Injustices Suffered By Black People In The Us: " You've Tried

To Blow My Brains Out With Bigotry, Chopped Off My Wings, So I Couldn't Fly Free, And Dared Me To Be Me, Took My Drum, Broke My Hands, Yanked My Roots Right Up Out Of The Land, And Riddled My Soul With Jesus" 'what I Want To See' Describes A Utopia - A Refuge From Hurt And Those Who'd Make "our Vision Blurred, And Our Faith Obscure", Whilst The Title Track 'understand What Black Is' Aims To Transcend Ethnicity: "understand What Black Is....it's The Source From Which All Things Come...black Is A Hero, Not A Villain."

The Album Even Takes Reference From Prince's 2003 Album Of Instrumentals, 'news', Which Hassan Drew Comparisons From With His Own Childhood Experiences: "that Poem Took Me About A Year To Write....i Just Kept Writing And Writing But Not Getting Too Far And Then I Heard That Album And The Musicianship Was Amazing. I Was Left Wondering If It Was Jazz, Classical, Rock Or Maybe Something New But All Those Images That I Write About Came To Me From Listening To That Album. I Loved Prince In That Movie Purple Rain Because My Father Was A Talented Musician But He Was Into Brutalising Mama At Times And In The Movie There's A Jerome And My Name Is Jerome, So It Was Like He Was Telling My Life Story As Well."

The Album Acts As A Body Of Work Between Individual Members Each Speaking Of Their Own Personal Journeys, But Feeding Into The Much Larger Narrative Of Struggle And Oppression, Alongside A Fervent Hunger For Social Change. These Are Struggles And Tests Of Personal Resolve That Have Directly Shaped And Moulded The Bands' Unique Sound Over The Course Of An Impressive 50 Years, And Their Powerful And Influential Commentary Remains As Relevant As Ever.

Speedy Ortiz is proud to announce their sophomore album, Foil Deer, which will be released via Carpark Records on April 20th.

'Major Arcana' released in 2013 won them glowing reviews , features and several UK tours (highlights below):

- 4 PAGE NME FEATURE

- 9/10 LEAD REVIEW IN NME: 'One of the reasons 'Major Arcana' works so well is because it's addictive and fun. The guitars and bass sound incredible, like the last Deerhunter album without the Yankee Doodle Dandy'

8/10 Drowned In Sound : ' Speedy Ortiz are way too euphoric and glorious to suffer for their artfulness. Stripping away the frills, at heart Major Arcana is a mournful treasure that asks to be celebrated.'

*NME RADAR FEATURE: 'What's miraculous, though, is that Major Arcana doesn't sound at all self-pitying; it's torrid Slint-meets-Pavement rattle bolsters Sadie's relished words so that yelling along is an exercise in gleefully exorcising your own demons'

8.4 ON PITCHFORK: : 'There's the squalling, guitar-on-guitar carnage of Archers of Loaf, the grungy mysticism of Helium (Dupuis lifted the title Major Arcana from a book she was reading on black magic), and of course the deadpan wit of vintage Liz Phair ('I was never the witch that you made me to be,' Dupuis tells a burnt-out old flame on 'Plough', 'Still you picked a virgin over me').

Standard LP is gatefold, single black LP with chapbook, plus digital download card.
Deluxe LP Is as above but with metallic gold coloured vinyl, and sticker.(200 ONLY FOR UK)
CD comes in digipak with a folded poster approximating the chapbook in the LP.

Speedy Ortiz said they would get the flowers themselves. What a lark! What a plunge!

When considering Massachusetts' Speedy Ortiz, that line from Virginia Woolf comes to mind. Not only for the obvious echoes to DIY, a form and function that's characterized the band's nascency, but in the proto-feminist undertones driving much of their sophomore album, Foil Deer. "I'm not bossy, I'm the boss," Sadie Dupuis sings on "Raising the Skate," invoking in spirit one half of the Carter-Knowles clan and echoing the other's wordplay. And wordplay makes sense, considering Dupuis-the band's songwriter, guitarist, and frontwoman-spent the band's first few years teaching writing at UMass Amherst. She's drawn to the dense complexity of Pynchon, the dreamlike geometry of Bolaño, the confounded yearning of Plath-all attributes you could easily apply to the band's 2013 debut Major Arcana, which fans and press alike have invested with a sense of purpose and merit uncommon in contemporary guitar rock.

The group, including Mike Falcone on drums, Darl Ferm on bass, and new addition Devin McKnight of Grass is Green on guitar, have spent the last year on an almost endless cross-continental touring jag, tagging along with the likes of The Breeders, Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks, and Thurston Moore. That shift into full-time musicianship brought with it an attendant reordering of priorities when it came to songwriting, and the band members' lives in general. They would get the damn flowers themselves.

Dupuis wrote much of Foil Deer at her mother's home in the Connecticut woods, where the songwriter imposed a self-regulated exile and physical cleansing of sorts, finding that many of the songs came to her while running or swimming alone. "I gave up wasting mental energy on people who didn't have my back," she says. "Listening to our old records, I get the sense I was putting myself in horrible situations just to write sad songs. This music isn't coming from a dark place, and without slipping into self-empowerment jargon, it feels stronger." Many of the songs deal with a similar sense of starting over, editing out the unnecessary drama. "Boys be sensitive and girls be, be aggressive," she sings on "Mister Difficult."

And while their debut album was recorded on the fly, Speedy Ortiz spent almost a month in the studio on Foil Deer. Falcone's drums are taut, mechanistic; Ferm's bass ranges from the aggressive rattle of an AmRep classic to smoother, hip-hop inspired lines. McKnight, meanwhile, lends spacier, textural riffs to complement Dupuis' wiry, melody-driven guitar style. "The demos for our songs have always had tons of small details and production experimentation, but we never had any money to pay for more than a couple days in the studio, so the songs came out very live-sounding and guitar heavy," Dupuis says. It was recorded and mixed at Brooklyn's Rare Book Room with Nicolas Vernhes (Silver Jews, Enon, Deerhunter), with the record mastered by Emily Lazar (Sia, Haim, Beauty Pill), lending a more polished sound and a pop sensibility that will stand out to existing fans and new converts alike. For all the lyrical complexity and guitar-based excursions Speedy Ortiz have built their reputation on to this point, Foil Deer has a sense of light-footed fun. What's the point of doing things yourself if you're not going to enjoy the trip

Standard LP is gatefold, single black LP with chapbook, plus digital download card.
CD comes in digipak with a folded poster approximating the chapbook in the LP.