Suche:mappa

Julek ploski’s ‘Give up Channel’ is on mappa. It’s the follow-up to the Poland-based FL Studio demon’s ‘Hotel *’, released via Orange Milk in 2023.

It’s an album that wrestles against a shadow self. It’s about shelter from the hailstorm of unwanted memories and guilt pangs and serrated blades of thought. It’s about clinging on to some semblance of hope, knuckles taut and teeth gritted.

The fragmented drift of opener ‘Naysayer’ flows forward like an anxious daydream, pad eddies and piano plinks anchored by Trapaholics drops and bursts of guaracha drums. It’s a mess of mind: the bleakness of ‘Truth’ is punctuated by gun cocking and bullet spray and sudden jester-like blasts of unhinged, schizo-whimsical melody. An internal war without a clear winner.

Shame snakes through this music like venom through an emaciated body. Blue screenlight in a dark bedroom, pulsating temples, lockjaw. ‘Titanic’ hits like the thrashing resistance of a being built for love grappling against the scalding vengefulness it’s forced to contend with, the song’s abstracted rave synths giving way to warped voices and spiralling derangement. ‘Hollywood’ is a scarred battleground, the martial bludgeoning of a tightly wound hardstyle stomp blistering and shredding a delicate piano-and-string arrangement.

This music is about deep solitude, a meditation on simmering, slow-marinating hatred. But it’s ultimately about prevailing. It doesn’t revel in negativity, it roils and twists and writhes against it. Dots of light in oppressive darkness. Clarity and purpose against chaos and filth. It’s a struggle worth waging.










h I Was #AllAlone Movements V - VIII
[i] Economy [Movements I - IV]

Repress!

Techno, Disco, Italo, Electronics, House, Library, Cosmic and Ambient frequencies - These are the bedrocks of the Midnight Drive ethos and sound. A label shining a light on overlooked or unheralded creations and respectfully reissuing them for the contemporary audience.

A label that respects and understands the connection between these disparate and sometimes forgotten forms of musical expression and celebrates them. Midnight Drive are extremely proud to reintroduce the world to the sublime after-hours, cult downtempo sounds of Belgian duo Pieter Kuyl and Jan Van Den Bergh aka Mappa Mundi.

Mappa Mundi's sole release 'Musaics' was released on Belgium's legendary USA Import label in 1990, riding on the wave of early trance and ambient house sounds and exploring the same sonic terrain and worlds as The Orb, The KLF, Sun Electric and other like minded outfits. A wonderful swirling collage or mosaic of breakbeats, samples and new-age synth stylings, 'Musaics' is indeed a real trip.

A spontaneous late night studio concoction borne of endless takes and experimentation between Kuyl and Van Den Bergh who both display a deep knowledge and a shared love of different sounds from around the world. The end result is a meditative, sprawling journey that touches on many different styles from languid widescreen techno to frantic drum machine driven machine-funk, all while retaining a feeling of post-rave atmospherics and psychedelia.

This is a very special record indeed, and is somewhat of a lost gem from a very fertile and interesting period in sample based music. Undoubtedly the perfect soundtrack to numerous late nights and early mornings to come, remastered and spread across 2 discs for maximum sonic playback.

On alene et, Michaela Turcerová, a Copenhagen-based, Slovakia born musician, takes minutiae — the tiniest scrapes and breathiest hums — and distorts them into sprawling, collaged webs that barely resemble the instrument in its natural state. Each shard, when pieced together, makes a rhythmic, undulating sound born from the subtlest motions.

Alene et marks Turcerová’s debut as a soloist, putting a spotlight on the exploratory approach she has developed on her own and across a variety of collaborations. She has long studied the quiet excavation of her instrument, pulling it apart to find a new vocabulary. To develop this language, she unearths shards of sound from the instrument, muting it or bringing out its scratchiness and grittiness. Primarily working with open-ended scores and improvisation, she is inspired by various percussive music, looking to deep sonic awareness to guide her. As a soloist, her music harkens to the abstracted electronics present across the Editions Mego catalog or the distorted ruminations of Nyege Nyege tapes. And no matter where she goes, she is constantly in the pursuit of the unknown — the hidden elements of music that come to life through experimentation and listening.

With alene et, Turcerová presents her singular language on the saxophone to the fullest. To make this music, she placed many microphones close to her instrument, zeroing in to each sound and examining it from multiple different angles. She emphasizes the percussive possibilities of her instrument, puzzle-piecing each note into pulsating webs. Each track highlights a different side of the saxophone — the bristling distortion and amplification of a column of air as it blows through her saxophone’s body, the trickling tapping of the keys as she places her fingers onto them.

At its core, alene et presents Turcerová’s curiosity. The saxophone lives many different lives within her hands, shapeshifting through the uncovering of its possibilities. She shows us how the instrument is an ever-changing entity, a distorted and blown out drone with a thousand shards poking out from inside of it. But more than just a showcase of an individual instrument, alene et feels like a statement of the act of exploration. Turcerová is an excavator, always looking for new worlds hidden within her saxophone, and leaving room for more to come alive with each listen.

Water ripples all around, and echoing sounds stretch out into a shady sub aquatic habitat. Its dark corners slowly burst into view as cresting noises reveal fresh caverns teeming with liquid life. This is Sueños acuáticos, the latest sonic exploration from Lamina, a musical project by French artist, Clarice Calvo-Pinsolle. Built from years of carefully gathered field recordings, the album constructs immersive, detailed soundscapes where watery environments, caves, and forests intertwine with digital manipulations.

Rooted in the myth of the ‘Lamina’, a creature from Basque folklore, the project blends this oral tradition with technology to build a geological myth. The Lamina’s world—a nocturnal ecosystem of water and stone—serves as the foundation for the album’s sound design. Lamina reshapes these natural recordings into something new: stretching, pitching, and layering them to build intricate sound environments that feel simultaneously organic and synthetic. “I transform these sounds much like I would sculpt in ceramics,” explains Calvo-Pinsolle, “by adding, removing material, and imagining landscapes.

Drawing from hydrofeminist and posthuman ideas, particularly those in Astrida Neimanis’ Bodies of Water, the album treats sound like water—shifting, flowing, connecting, and buoying life. Tracks flow into one another without clear boundaries, much like the natural currents they represent. The result is a continuous listening experience, inviting deep focus on texture above melody.

Lamina is exploring the potential of the field recording as a compositional tool. Natural sounds, like trickling water or wind through trees, are processed out of recognition—or cliché. A sense of weightless immersion takes hold as Lamins’a music unfolds, and listeners float freely and choose their own adventure in the Lamina’s home. Less a set of songs than its own evolving environment, Sueños acuáticos (‘Aquatic Dreams’ in English) is a meticulously constructed work in which we can freely float.

The learning process is just as much an act of healing as betterment. The enabling of solutions through sheer willpower and openness to discovery, or a noble mission, never completed. In that spirit, the latest album by Berlin-based Slovak duo Päfgens – comprising Jana Drábeková Kočišová and Filip Drábek – represents a pensive development for the project.

Drifting from their lo-fi shoegaze beginnings, Päfgens drone-infused soundscapes have become increasingly immersive and expressive “framed improvisations,” where spontaneous passages are captured, then revisited with fresh layers upon layers over the course of months, breathing and evolving naturally, mirroring the unpredictability of nature. Songforms have all but melted away, with ethereal guitars and bass nestling up against field-recorded sounds, synth beds, percussion, and singing bowl tones.

The framed improvisation on ‘Aspect of What’ explores love and loss, relishing both the joy and melancholy of paying tribute to Filip’s late ethnologist grandmother, Božena Filová (1926-2020). Her voice opens track 2, ‘Particles’, speaking of the humble desire to “help the people in the rural environment”, and the goal of “uplifting people to better living through education”. The album’s emotionally charged approach to improvisation is suitably uplifting and seemingly made without ego, the couple melting away into the flitting wall of rustling drones and heavenly fuzz. Even at their most serrated (the groaning guitar amp squall underpinning ‘Journey’) or when surrounded by chiming bells, clocks and bowls (‘Around the Clock’), Päfgens is ready to listen, rest, learn, and improve, extracting and nurturing hidden abstract emotion in every piece, plundering something universal and teachable from very personal depths.

Biomes are little worlds of organic relationships, full of struggles, symbiosis, and sheer obsolete noise. In "De Silenti Natura," Henrique Vaz is meticulously crafting synthetic auditory biomes, sprouting from their own fuzzy logic. Unfolding across two distinct acts, the Brazilian artist interprets and replicates the complex, often ambiguous sounds of (un)natural environments, creating imaginary systems to inhabit over two sides of tape. The soundscape of the first side and title track is entirely algorithmically synthesized, with no samples used, leveraging Supercollider for real-time sound generation. The environment thus built is a flourishing one, seemingly unable to escape its own grandeur as insect-like buzzing and crackles expands into mountain ranges and forests of erupting sonorous drama. The second side introduces 'hydrophone' water synthesizers, submerged in a goldfish bowl to interface with the unfurling waves of electronic chords, creating a unique blend of damp and unwieldy sloshing movements, prismatically scattered into a luscious soundscape, and resembling everything from the bridge of a starship to the echoed drip-drip of stalactites.

Both sides of the album slowly unwrap and uncrinkle, revealing layers of hisses, distant digital choirs, warm enveloping chords, and juddering bleeps. Despite their unwieldy and strange nature, myriad elements convey a familiar sense of environment, flitting between the blossoming of new (manmade) life and the doom and destruction of the (real) world.

As the ringing of bells (fully synthetic; no samples were used) hove into view during the closing movement of side one, a simulacrum cacophony of voices is ushered in. It’s a reminder of the holy nature of sound itself, beamed into our heads intangibly. The flipside’s water ritual, frantically dunking ‘water synthesizers’ to birth swooping melodies and yawning tones, is jabbing at sleeping giants. It’s pushing and pulling the stars in the night sky into place. It’s both a simple act of beautiful creation, and a storm in a teacup.

Budapest’s Alley Catss wants m Helux to serve as both a new station in their work and an homage to the new age-influenced and sample-heavy synthesis of previous albums (such as 2020’s "compassion & paralysis", 2016’s ℶ, or 2021’s "exophage"), and it already feels like a genre unto itself: Absurd Ambient. Inspired by the emptiness and silliness of theatrical sets left empty, devoid of action, still and incomplete, m Helux is an awkward place of bleak humour; poured over and yet frozen.

Produced by Máté Janky over the course of late 2023 through to early 2024, this is an unpredictable collage of hefty symbolic audio mysticism, 90s sampling, dub influences, fractured R&B vocals. It’s nonetheless interspersed with the knowing cheesiness of new agey bells and chimes, at times cut up to cartoonish levels, melding their most laughable and wonderful connotations.

Influenced by the likes of Klein, Alley Catss’ collaging and sampling techniques seek to sonify utopic scholastic visual concepts –poking a dose of fun at them along the way.

These seven tracks shimmer and shake, but never rumble. Alley Catss’ sui generis approach creates a beautiful parody of reference genres. Myriad tropes are desiccated and reworked into an exquisite corpse of blissed out sounds and voices. This is maddening music that’s monstrous and pretty, often all at once.

Michal Vaľko, aka Line Gate makes a return to mappa with his third cassette for the label. Once again the material is deeply minimalist, but shows marked evolutions in the Slovak, Prague-based artist’s unique trajectory. This time comprising two relatively short pieces (compared to the 40- and 60-minute works previously published on mappa), 'Trap' is perhaps Line Gate’s darkest yet.

Whereas previously his works focused on psychoacoustic phenomena, or highlighted the sacredness and timelessness of “the drone”, ‘Trap’ is a personal reflection of the artist’s innermost feelings, and perhaps a mirror that is held up to each listener: disillusionment, hopelessness and apathy have become an ever-present features of the society around us. ‘Trap’ very directly expresses the feelings of being lost, of despair, of wandering and not seeing the end. Vaľko utilises drones and repetitive vocal/instrumental phrases to express the endlessness of these feelings, and his own captivity within them.

The pieces draw once again on the hurdy-gurdy, but also on Vaľko’s processed, sometimes transposed voice. On “Maze I” layers of humming voices and meandering sung melodies form an impenetrable wall of sound, as the voices’ timbres intertwine and overlap, giving rise to fascinating overtones and singular resonances. On “Maze II” Vaľko returns to the earthy sound of the hurdy-gurdy alongside some deep, crooning voices (transposed an octave lower) and embellishes its drones with a performance on glass cups. More than ever, Line Gate's music resonates not just in sonic terms, but also in its deep humanity and social relevance.

The album Symposium Musicum is developed from field recordings, interviews, and observations collected in the villages of Podolínec, Lomnička, Levočské Vrchy, and Kolačkov - all areas of the eastern and north-eastern Slovakia with significant Romani enclaves. The pieces resulting from these interactions encourage the listener to tune in for a delicate negotiation of language, (audible) gesture, and storytelling.

The collaboration with the local participants appears lighthearted and whimsical on the records, but this seeming easiness is clearly a result of devoted fieldwork planning and committed post-production. The curated compositions represent and emphasize not only performative aspects of the acoustic activities but also point attention to seemingly non-productive aspects of creation, such as silence, hesitation, observation, perception, or waiting.

Sound experiment and preservation is not the only goal of the project. Some of the records capturing acoustic activities in peculiar places but also carry an element of social novelty that accompanied their making - according to the locals in Lomnička, the recording visitors were the first non-Romani persons who spent the night in the village.

In many instances, these recordings explore liminal spaces that have lost their original function (a church ruin or an out-of-business grocery store) and became a lively territory for acoustic exploration and playful reciprocity. For instance, in track 7, "Kavka", local children used crackling leaves as percussion devices.

Such moments betray a high level of engagement in the subtle details of the recorded spaces and their social ecologies. According to the creators, their creative processes involve "a social sound practice" as an attitude towards exploring sound in its social setting.

Symposium Musicum leaves behind many aesthetic conventions of sound capture and what is considered "musical", including the usual notions of a linguistic unit, narrative, memoir, and play. Instead, it engages in a self-reflective questioning of the way we listen to the world around us.

This project invites us to experience places outside the divided sociolinguistic provinces, resulting from multigenerational displacement and neglect of the Romani communities from the explored areas. The result is in many ways revelatory and poetically impactful.

Tape



By its very nature, intuition is something of which we easily lose sight. Music however, as both bridge and secret technology, connects the natural, artificial, and the earned. It can act as both a reminder of cultures and people gone, while materialising and alchemising from thin air elements not to be found on any periodic tables, and visions no human can see.

»Pin down the dust« is the first meeting of Nighte - Christina Carter (Charalambides) and Mari Maurice (more eaze) - and it feels both automatic and natural. The collaboration stems from a spontaneous decision by the duo to start playing together weekly. “That's how this music was made,” explains Carter, “with gut feeling as the guiding principle. Mari understands the music I've made on such a deep level that playing with her feels so natural.”

The result of this meeting is inarguably some of the most beautiful music to ever emerge from either Carter or Maurice. The structures are spacious, generous, and gentle, with scraped violin strings and seemingly ancient moans strewn sparingly like falling leaves on a picnic blanket. Having begun life as freeform interplays between the duo recorded live at Maurice’s house, overdubs were later added and the material mixed by Maurice alone into finalised pieces.

Maurice’s varied instrumentation litters the background with distant and oneiric miscellanies, from groaned saxophone phrases and heavenly organ drones to glissandi guitars. Carter’s voice sits in the centre, embodying and channelling (mostly) wordless human ecstasy - and at times unease - amidst the allotment of blossoming sounds. Maurice & Carter’s clairvoyant connection notwithstanding, music always offers a portal back to our buried intuitions. “Pin Down The Dust” is both a tribute and a guide to this spontaneity and instinct, putting aside thought in favour of feeling.

The journey from trauma to healing and understanding inspired Andrew Oda’s beautiful new album: »Back To The Body«. More delicate and plaintive than his previous work, but no less adventurous in its broad palette of synthetic and acoustic sounds, this music is the topography of a descent into the wisdom of the body, “as frightening and unsafe as it may feel” as the composer puts it. A sweet piano, a gently plucked guitar, and a mournful cello sit alongside garbled synth melodies, rustling field recordings, and sweeping cosmic backdrops throughout, a mimic of the counterintuitive harmony of sensations that meet the traumatised body.

Johannes Schebler's musical output is all about establishing a dreamlike territory where sonic settlements can spread at ease. While Grykë Pyje (Johannes Schebler's duo with Jani Hirvonen) presents musical landscapes as open and clear spaces, Baldruin's miniature pieces tend to narrow them down, zooming into domestic sceneries that shift like malleable rooms inside a magic building. These are the quarters where the inhabitants of Schebler's musical world are configured.

Rendered in a tender manner, the tunes in Kleine Freuden (in English: small joys) unfold like a collection of fairy tales and bedtime stories. Fables and lullabies performed in whispering tones seem to carry us through a child's dream where images blend into each other. Compact, yet gauzy and free flowing melodies gather up revealing an ensemble of households where fanciful entities play care freely, leading us along their musical maze. The music is placid, childlike and playful. It wanders around in unwavering estrangement, organizing an unprecedented and intimate space as seen from a bird's eye view.

In the landscape of a bedroom where the night lamp is the sun, we take part in a lively journey, as wonder is warrant and keeper of a warm and pristine environment. Perspective shifts as we rise from bed sheet folds that turn into fragile mountain ranges. We crawl behind furniture and take shelter in secret hideouts while dust falls upon us like a blizzard. Transfiguring notions of scale and time, we are left wondering how long have we been here, wondering if music is the only true measurement of time.

It is to the detriment of our understanding of musicality that we mostly measure it by the capacity to produce, and much less by the capacity to receive some sort of acoustic information or event. The virtuosity of listening, of understanding the sonic situation and its potential, is, however, that which defines one's capacity to interact – with other musicians, with the audience, and with the environment. This could also be taken to mean that an ethical act is implied in the situation of listening – the decision to relate, to be attentive to, to actively position oneself in relation to what is heard.

Rarely is this capacity so thoroughly pronounced and ethically conscious as in the case of Manja Ristić, the Belgrade-born and Royal Academy of Music-schooled musician, composer, sound and multimedia artist (the list could go on), who currently lives on the island of Korčula in the Croatian part of the Adriatic. Ristić’s recent, field recording-based work, is indeed all about attentiveness, most of all towards the environment and the acoustic traces of the endangered ecological layers of her old-new Mediterranean surroundings. With that in mind, it is indeed no wonder that her newest album draws from Milton’s Paradise Lost, which could easily be the anti-slogan of the endangered Croatian coast, eaten up by the pressures of touristification and the usurpation and privatization of once common space. More precisely, the album is inspired by one of the fifty Gustave Doré illustrations of Milton’s epic, Him, fast sleeping, soon he found, In labyrinth of many a round, self-rolled, from which it draws its title. The verses and the scene are from Book IX, and depict the moment Satan inhabits the Serpent, the beginning of his subversion of God’s autocratic rule, as some interpretations would have it.

For Ristić, the actual Paradise she introduces us to is in a state of imbalance – the idyllic soundscapes of her island surroundings overlain with sonic anxiety, such as on the album’s first track, The Flies, with its unrelenting, nervous buzzing evoking the ominous Biblical entity of Beelzebub, or The Lord of the Flies. The next track, Whales, which beautifully utilizes archival whale recordings, could also be taken to establish an intertextual relation to Milton through Melville, whose Moby Dick was strongly influenced by Paradise Lost. The middle track of the album, dedicated to the Croatian-American painter and muralist Maksimilijan Vanka, uses to great, unsettling effect what to my ears sounds like a buried hydrophone, a technique often employed by Ristić in her work, giving us a rough, grinding impression of water beating the pebbles over a high-pitched drone. But perhaps the most ominous, pessimistic image is painted in The Flag Pole, in which the symbol of revolutionary victory (I’m thinking of the Yugoslav modernist Tin Ujević and his proto-avant-garde sonnet Farewell from 1914) becomes a source of terrifying sonic unease, as we are listening to the incessant sound of its rope hitting the metal pole. However, with Dlana Night comes relief – the drones become airier, calmer; there is a distant notion of people, dogs, everyday life, all shrouded in the calming sound of the crickets on the island of Silba. Ristić, ultimately, serves us some hope on this wonderful new album, showing us that something has been lost, but that something can also be gained through the thoughtful attention with which she listens to the world around her.

„My recording techniques all boil down to one thing – intuition. I do not use expensive or highly sensitive equipment nor do I employ special techniques. On the contrary, I believe that the information regarding a space or an object can be recorded well enough on an average device. My personal guideline when recording sound is the positioning of myself as the listening medium, active and with the intention of establishing a connection that is sometimes intellectual, sometimes conceptual, and sometimes phenomenological.” - Manja Ristić, in an interview for Kulturpunkt.hr

Following the release of Collision and Coalescence, Slovakian label mappa commits to the duo Grykë Pyje, releasing their third LP "Squirlich Stroll". Maintaining the fabled tone of their debut on the label, Jani Hirvonen (Uton) and Johannes Schebler (Baldruin) dig deeper into the sonic vein of myth and fabric of yonder. The music in "Squirlich Stroll" unravels as a yarn brought back from a wild voyage.

On uncharted areas of medieval maps where potential dangers were thought to exist, the inscription "Here be dragons" was used to warn as much as to tempt explorers willing to cross limits. Myth awaited them as a blank page of dormant territory, yet also to be proved unlike and reinvented. In such pliable borders, wonder had the favorable conditions to blend experience and imagination, crafting creatures with an eye instead of a bellybutton, arms instead of ears and ears instead of fingers, hypnotizing spirals where a mouth should have been. These chimeras, though fictitious, allowed explorers to express their delusions along with their fears. "Here be dreams", we hear nightmares. Here be mushrooms the size of pyramids that sing lullabies for mountains. Here be talking roads that lead to volcanoes throats and spit you back to flight. Here be art of bending trees into braided bridges like in Meghalaya, and the time gap between seed and living ruins.

Let that be the compass, the astrolabe. Yet, the music in Squirlich Stroll comes with these journeys already embraced, unraveling as a story told by wanderers visiting town, nourishing fantasy. The sonic language and diction employed here are crystal clear. Sounds are sharp and pure. Growls, howls, shrieks, tingles, rattles, moans, excretions and even hymns sung by landscape and creatures alike do not run over each other. There is no chaos, but ambience, cohabitation. The duo masters dramaturgy, providing every voice with focused turns and character, guarding their parley with caution and care, convoking them mainly through soothing synth melodies that enable an analgesic, sedative mood. Clusters of sounds gathered are articulated through the album with the inherent luminosity and required stability to accomplish what peaks in, as the title of the final track reads, a new dawn.

I first discovered khroniky – Ukranian folk songs – in the Highlands of Scotland. I was watching a screening of Bajka, a mesmerising documentary made by the filmmaker Lucia Nimcová and sound artist Sholto Dobie. I knew nothing about these ballads beforehand, but I was fascinated by these odd, beautiful songs, especially the easy way in which they mixed misery and levity, where gentle melodies blend with tales of dark violence. The folk songs describe hardship, murder, torture, death in gulags, heavy drinking, outsmarting men, love affairs. But they’re often very funny too – many of the songs make fun of marriage, and there’s an amazing subcategory of khroniky songs called potka (vagina) songs.

The khroniky have never been properly documented because they were considered too crude, or contained lyrics that were problematic, politically. When Ukrainian folk songs have been archived in the past, it’s normally a sanitised, more polite version of the ones that Lucia remembers from her childhood. Lucia grew up on the other side of the Ukrainian border in Slovakia. She is part of the Rusyn (Ruthenian) minority ethnic group found in the borderlands of Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, Ukraine and Poland. Rusyn is a centuries-old Slavic language, looked down upon as a poor, uneducated dialect by the neighbouring Ukraine and Slovakia. It was forbidden to talk about Rusyn culture at Nimcova’s primary school, but the khroniky stayed in her memories.

“I remember weddings when I was young,” says Lucia, who now lives in Addis Abeba, Ethiopia. “At the end of the night, when everyone was drunk and the young couple would go around their guests, people would sing in Rusyn. There was singing and dancing, and songs about being in prison or falling in love. I picked up the lyrics and sometimes my mum would make my sister and I sing them for people we met on the train. I was about five or six but the lyrics still come back when I sing to my kids.”

Determined that these rich, nuanced, unique songs shouldn’t be forgotten, she decided to record them. Over two years, Lucia, joined by experimental musician Sholto Dobie, visited Rusyn villages high in the Carpathian mountains to rediscover the songs and make the documentary. It was at the beginning of war breaking out in Ukraine in 2014.

“The Rusyn community is a very closed one,” explains Lucia. “Sometimes we’d have to wait several days to hear someone sing; we had to earn their trust before they shared something very personal to them. We’d stay up ‘til 5am at a wedding, then go straight to a morning baptism, or collect haystacks with the villagers, hoping they’d sing while they were working.”

DILO is named after an important independent Ukrainian daily newspaper that was shut down when the Red Army entered Lviv in 1939. The four long tracks on DILO blur field recordings with song; an unpolished, privileged glimpse into a private world. We hear dogs barking and insects buzzing in the summer heat, then a blast of hurdy gurdy or violin will drift in, or a plaintive song soars softly over the rural background noise, with casually harrowing lyrics about a cuckoo, “lifeless in a world of misery”, as translated in the album’s booklet.

For both Lucia and Sholto, it was important not to tamper too much with what they heard. “When you think about ethnography,” Lucia explains, “you have to have a lot of time, love and respect to document it with sensitivity.”

“The songs all have their own atmosphere and intimacy from the spaces they were recorded in and it was important to maintain these particularities and move with them,” adds Sholto, who now lives in Vilnius, Lithuania. “They guide and sometimes interrupt a journey between interiors – domestic spaces; in kitchens, by the fire – and exteriors; marketplaces, cow sheds. We used contact microphones to record metal bridges and fences, and we spent one afternoon recording a wool processing machine, the details of the rattling and tuning wheels are the ground layer for the third track.”

Lucia took rough notes and diary entries during the recording process, which are now shared in the booklet alongside a selection of lyrics, loosely translated, but revealing the depth and astonishing beauty that sometimes lies in the language of these folk songs.

The feel of the album is intimate, flipping between laughter, where a woman sings about selling her pussy to buy a cow in one track, then shifts to a raw, painful truth; an adult son asks his mother why his dad won’t be back for dinner, as he’s gone to war.

Since Lucia and Sholto began working together in 2014, they have shared the audio recordings on radio and film and shown photos in gallery spaces, making sure these special, smutty, poignant songs don’t get lost. This new record and booklet joins that same continuum, another glorious fruit from the same rare tree.

Turning their gaze to the buoyant culture of wyrd, modernist German folk music, Quindi welcome a spectacularly idiosyncratic offering from Johannes Schebler, aka Baldruin. Bewildering narrative twists, high drama and intricate delicacy make Mosaike der Imagination an engrossing listen from the outset, as baroque atmospheres and tumbledown drums intertwine with tactile string plucks and needlepoint synthesis in an authoritative bridging of ancient and hypermodern sonic sensibilities.
Schebler's catalogue as Baldruin is extensive, reaching back to the late 00s and covering a lot of ground through cassette albums on respected underground labels like SicSic, A Giant Fern and Lullabies For Insomniacs. Meanwhile, his work has been recognised as part of a broader movement of experimental electronic music in Germany taking inspiration from folk traditions, as documented on last year's essential Bureau B compilation, Gespensterland. Beyond his solo work, Schebler also works with Jani Hirvonen as Grykë Pyje (mappa), and both collaborate with Paul Wilson as Yayoba (Not Not Fun). Christian Schoppik of leading dark folk project Brannten Schnüre joins him as Freundliche Kreisel (STROOM). It's a tangled, fascinating and evocative sound world which Mosaike der Imagination offers a compelling window into.
No two tracks on the album follow the same pattern or palette, whether gliding through the Giallo synth undulations and post rock tonal arcs of 'Stimme des Wegelagerers' or spelling out miasmic incantations through flickering flames on 'Aus dem Feuer, aus dem Licht'. 'Hinein, hinaus, hinüber' revolves around meditative drum mantras and cascading melodic phrasing, densely layered and evolving with purpose. 'Gemeinsam hindurch' flicks between swooping strings and pizzicato plucks in a purely romantic expression of orchestration, 'Mit verbundenen Augen' is a bewildering choral voice study and 'Im Sternstrom' revels in ecstatic synth arpeggios. Nothing can be predicted except the vibrancy and clarity of Schebler's vision.
It's a vision which extends to the front cover artwork for Mosaike der Imagination — a glorious tapestry created by Finnish artist Jan Anderzén, with a responding design and layout from Schebler adorning the rear sleeve.
Stepping to the side of the cosy daydream reveries that inhabit much of the Quindi output, Mosaike der Imagination indulges the label's penchant for sophistication in a freakily fascinating new framework from the heart of an exciting movement in experimental folk music.

"Chainsaw Man" ist unbestritten einer der erfolgreichsten aktuellen Animes. Basierend auf der gleichnamigen Mangareihe von Tatsuki Fujimoto wird er vom legendären Studio Mappa (Attack on Titan, Jujutsu Kaiser) animiert. Die Geschichte erzählt vom Teufelsjäger Denji, der zu seinem Todeszeitpunkt einen Vertrag mit seinem treuen Gefährten, dem Kettensägenteufel Pochita, schließt. Von dem Tag an ist er "Chainsaw Man".Der Soundtrack stammt von Kensuke Ushio (A Silent Voice, Devilman Crybaby), der dieses Album als eine musikalische Hommage an die turbulente Welt von Chainsaw Man konzipiert. Die Musik-Highlights wurden auf zwei Platten gepresst, die mit einem leuchtenden Rot und schwarzem Splatter-Muster beeindrucken - ein Abbild von Blut und Finsternis in Denjis unerbittlichen Kämpfen.

"but as the centuries passed, the constellations drifted slowly eastwards"

Mike Harding, Mark Van Hoen and invited guests - …a hauntingly strange and mysterious immersion into a crackling entropy of phantom radio transmissions, squalls of static, choruses of insects, and creepily digitized voices.

drøne have released 3 albums on pomperipossa records and "the long song" is therefore volume 4 in the series... (drøne also self-released "mappa mundi" on their own label on compact disc in 2017.)

choir voices - galya bisengalieva, bana haffar, ipek gorgun, alex hoàng,

bethan kellough, anna von hausswolff & jana winderen

“Pour les gens supercool.” This slick tagline caused a commotion among Belgian electronic music fans in 1985 as a jingle in Liaisons Dangereuses, the infamous radio show on local station S.I.S. Antwerpen. Hosted by Paul Ward and DJ Sven Van Hees and playing an exhilarating mix of EBM, house, new beat, acid house, Detroit techno, synthpop and more, the transmit was without a doubt trendsetting, presenting music on the radio that before was only to be witnessed in dark clubs or underground record stores. Listeners needed to make an effort though, since the S.I.S. waves only reached about 10km out of the city center. But a network of copied tape recordings and a fast growing bunch of fans - some of which even driving their cars to parking lots inside the broadcast area to hear the show - created a buzz that would easily exceed the limits of the transmission signal.

In 1989 Ward and Van Hees formed their own band named after the radio show, but to avoid confusion with the eponymous German new wave band, they signed their records with Liaison D or Liaisons D. Assisted by Jan Van Den Bergh (Mappa Mundi, Kumulus, Buzz), Marcos Salon (Outlander), Frank De Wulf (B-Sides, World Party II) and J.P. Ruelle, Liaisons D released a solid string of EP’s and the album “Submerged In Sound” on USA Import Records between 1989 and 1992. We are extremely proud to present four tracks from the album here as a brand new EP, a must-have for fans of their unapologetically rough and ravy sound, testimony of a unique era in Belgium’s electronic music history.