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The open skies of Ochre's new album, Oversail, replace the dense canopies of his last, Understory back in 2020. This time, UK-born, Netherlands-based talent Christopher Leary trades rhythmic intricacy for something more exposed and reflective on a record that unfolds in measured steps, with each passage revealing fragile melodies set against sparse, shifting frameworks. There's a tactile quality to the sound design, hardware elements clicking and sighing like ageing machinery still in motion. Tracks feel suspended and the focus is on slow revelation across the quietly affecting 'Casadastra', airy beauty of 'Meristem' and hopeful synth sequencing of 'Canthropa.'

With our 12th anniversary approaching, we invited Dutch artist Human Space Machine, who delivered Perception Field, a five track EP built around the idea that perception is never fixed.
Across a wide tempo range, the record explores how the same material can shift depending on focus and context. Foreground and background exchange roles. Subtle textures and negative space shape the impact as much as the main rhythmic elements. Perception Field approaches club music as something fluid and responsive, where meaning forms through the act of listening itself. It’s an impressive showcase from an artist that shows once again he’s capable of merging layers of his excellent sound design with deeper feelings.

Guests is the home recording project of Jessica Higgins and Matthew Walkerdine. Vaguely named as such to avoid any problems with the poster if they pull out of a gig (which has only happened once, about a year and half before any songs were actually written to be fair) but also to capture a sense of reverse hospitality. That is, arriving at your door with a bottle of good wine (can’t turn up empty handed) or a fist full of savoury or sweet snacks (time of day dependant); oversharing at the afters (and then passing out on your couch); reading to your toddler while you make their lunch or put everything back where it was meant to go (only to get torn apart again). So, something about what happens when private worlds meet each other, making or having been made a space for. But at times, it’s a different kind of intimacy, a temporal or material one, like the feeling of crisp fresh sheets, and abundant and soft, body-part appropriate towels in a hotel in a city you’ve been to before and love to go back to.

Their debut record, “I wish I was special”, was variously described as “a collage of concrète experiments and outerzone pop gestures, music that sounds as if it’s been written from the depths of a dream”; “music for people who love music but also hate it too”; “something like chasing ghosts or befriending a wild animal”; “pulling apart nervous sensations with haphazard ease and requisite humour”; and “a melody of refusal, of being all-in (…) finding the exact right WRONG sound to express the discontent”. Common Domestic Bird continues in this vein, layering synthesiser, keyboards and samples over rudimentary drum rhythms and field recordings, which are in turn sung or spoken with to create nine new songs.

Written and recorded between autumn 2024 and summer 2025 in Reading, Berkshire, the music has matured since its last outing, in a way, leaning less into collage and more toward structured composition and melodic depth, yet retains a healthy dose of indeterminacy and off-kilter rhythms for the forever-amateur. The songs on Common Domestic Bird hint at some “about”-ness through a series of discrete vignettes which sound a bit like architecture or end of year lists, gossip or over-thinking subjectivity, like disappearances and impressions, the support structure of the spine, letters and signs offs, things you could really do without and where they should go, hoping you’ll see something that isn’t there, pretences and performance. At times they feel kind of funny, others kind of sad or a bit angry and annoyed, a bit like you really.

Certain paths necessitate and call for one singular long sequence in order to arrive at a fully formed conversation or reasoning. Nothing seems to broadcast it more clearly than the trajectory Brussels based Italo-Vietnamese artist Nguyễn Zen Mỹ embarked on during the last decade as Radio Hito.

After a string of highly cherished and sought out tape releases, Radio Hito’s new album ‘L’uso e gli attributi del cuore’, co-released by Maple Death & Meakusma, unfolds with devastating
clarity, a profound balance of depth, minimalism and emotional grounding. A ten-sequence song cycle for voice and MIDI soundfonts adapted from the 2021 book by French poet Claude
Royet-Journoud.

Written and recorded between January 2023 and August 2025, the cycle evolved through nearly 80 live performances from Galicia to Kazakhstan before arriving at its recorded form. Set to an Italian libretto adapted from Royet-Journoud’s text ‘L'usage et les attributs du cœur’ (POL, 2021), the work revisits the tradition of the 19th-century Lied — art song built on existing poetry— transposed into a radically economical contemporary setting: voice and Casio CTK workstations.

"I was interested by this incompleteness CRJ mentions - by the ‘suspension’ of meaning questioning readability and intelligibility. I ‘resisted’ to CRJ’s texts since I met him and got to know his work. … It seems to me that when playing the songs, I submit an object to be completed by the audience."

Radio Hito’s distinctive approach to setting poetry to music — spare arrangements, strophic repetition, and a voice suspended between recital, fm transmission and canzone — creates a language of its own, reaching new heights on ‘L’uso e gli attributi del cuore’, songs that are formally rigorous, emotionally restrained, and shaped by the discipline of sustained live performance, interlocking into a coherent cycle.

Rather than illustrating the poem, Radio Hito approaches it as a space of suspension. Royet-Journoud described poetry as a “profession of ignorance” where meaning remains incomplete; these songs extend that trembling state, allowing repetition, digital timbre, and restraint to hold the text open.

Often misread as minimal synth or romantic chanson, Radio Hito’s practice is rooted instead in the lineage of the art song and song cycle: open structures, close attention to language, and a live performance economy that pushes the voice at the heart of the stage. The choice of accessible keyboard workstations — light, portable, and embedded in contemporary popular culture — replaces the historical piano.

Radio Hito creates fantastical, mirage-like songs, intimate yet elusive. Her music is forlorn chanson for the digital age; bringing her haunting and beautiful vocalisations into conversation with MIDI soundfonts and humble-yet-deep casio compositions. Music that strides for simplicity, yet lands miraculously within an entire new universe, a uniqueness achieved from like-minded spirits such as Ghedalia Tazartès, Savina Yannatou & Lena Platonos, Dorothy Carter, cycles that trickle down into estuaries.

“Radio Hito's set is superb. Sitting on the altar steps with a synth, her fabulously expressive vocals colour sparse, pensive compositions.” The Wire

Even in these most turbulent of times, dub musician and fatigued onlooker Elijah Minnelli remains an inexplicable stalwart on the lower rungs of the Breadminster County Council.

His latest record ‘Clams As A Main Meal’ continues his astute siphoning of council funds, this time with help from the Breadminster Board of Abstinence. As a further mark of respect, the original head of the Board, Dr. K'houldoux, graces the cover art in his infamous ‘Looming Moon of Desire’ guise.*

As fine a backdrop as any for Minneli’s off-brand dub experiments, and ‘Clams...’ is the truest representation of his varied wheelhouse yet...

We find vocal appearances from dub goliath Dennis Bovell and Welsh-language singer Carwyn Ellis. A pair of tracks which build on 2024’s acclaimed ‘Perpetual Musket’, a collection of folk songs reworked alongside reggae vocalists, released by FatCat Records. It garnered glowing reviews, with nods from The Guardian and The Quietus concluding with prominent appearances on their respective yearly round-up lists.

Elsewhere, the album finds Minnelli in a more experimental mode, all wheezing contraptions and cockeyed bass, creaking with the weight of creation, a satisfying tactility laid seam-side up.

As well as ‘Perpetual Musket’, the new album follows years of sold out 7" singles, handmade and self-released. Online, the tracks have amassed global streams numbering in the millions. His tracks have found play across an eclectic range of radio mixes and dance floors, most notably the likes of Andrew Weatherall, Batu, Optimo and Zakia Sewell (BBC6Music).

It is perhaps worth mentioning that this everbuilding interest in his work is at great odds with the growing suspicions amongst his fellow townsfolk, who see his Breadminster County Council Music Initiative as nothing more than an empty cash-grab.

Further Reading on the Breadminster Board of Abstinence

In the late 70s, Breadminster was awash with the last vestiges of the hippy era. Though the flared silhouette of the lower leg remained, the utopian ideals that had once flowed merrily around the youth's shaded ankles had begun to wane. LSD and free love had led to a sharp spike in population and a generation of children raised by air-headed psychonauts unprepared for the bleary-eyed strictures of parenthood.

Aware of the crisis, the County Council entrusted Dr. Paulinque K'houldoux to spearhead a pushback, and it was his pro-abstinence movement - a mixture of education initiatives and radical renutrition campaigns - that came to impact Breadminster's census deep into the new millennium.

Being a pseudo-archipelago Breadminster has fundamentally limited resources, however deep-seated ties to distant coastal villages meant that oysters were a regular part of the local diet. K'houldoux pinpointed this as a factor in the town's overpopulation, and believed that simply replacing these with clams (a “lesser mollusk”) would help lower the erotic urges of the people. It was his “anti-aphrodesia” movement that first championed the idea of “Clams As A Main Meal,” and the slogan “Consider Abstinence” carried the message yet further.

The Breadminster Board of Abstinence soon became involved in all cultural happenings in the area, with K'houldoux MCing at prominent festivals and performances, sometimes dressed as the “Looming Moon of Desire” - an idea of his relating to the tide, seafood, menstrual cycles, and his privately held celestial predilections.

It was in 1981 that it was revealed Dr. K'houldoux had never fully qualified as a doctor and was seeking exile in Breadminster due to a series of botched bracelet heists in which he had previously been involved. K'houldoux was subsequently extradited to Basingstoke, where he served 3 of a 12-year sentence, owing to the lunar-oriented prisoner health campaigns he helped implement.

It has been a strange twist of bureaucratic fate that the Breadminster Board of Abstinence has never stopped receiving public funding, despite its lack of clear utility. And while its roots are tied to a rose-tinted past, the Board continues to sponsor cultural events and projects to this day.

An extract from: Eugeniq Schooner's article in Sydney Parishioner: “Clams, Breadminster and Countercultural Abstinence Trends” (2008)

Hiriketiya is a small, enclosed bay on Sri Lanka's southern coast, where jungle leans toward the water and the days unfold without urgency.
Passing through in early 2025 on the way to Europe, Alex Albrecht spent a week here at MOND's artist residency, allowing the rhythms of the place to quietly shape the work that followed.
During the residency, Albrecht recorded and exchanged ideas with Sri Lankan musicians Dhyan Basho on sitar, Dinelka Liyanage on electronics, Uvindu Perera on double bass and Pasindu Herath on saxophone.
Their performances appear throughout the album, sampled and re-contextualised, influencing its melodic language, pacing and emotional tone.

Much of the music was shaped directly by its surroundings. Field recordings were gathered across Hiriketiya, and instruments were played wherever it felt necessary. This included rocks beside the ocean where waves set irregular rhythms, tall grasslands where wind and insects blend into the recordings, and open decks overlooking the sea. 'Round Table' captures this approach most clearly. Recorded while sitting together overlooking the ocean, a large steel table in front of the group gradually became part of the composition, used instinctively as an unplanned percussive element.

Not everything could be captured. Some of the most meaningful moments occurred before recording was possible. Those sounds exist only in memory, and the album is shaped in part by an attempt to hold onto their feelings.

Rather than documenting the residency in a linear way, the album gathers fragments, recordings, electronic sketches and field sounds, assembling them into a continuous listening experience shaped by place and recollection. MOND owners Jess and Renato foster an environment that supports artists without directing them, creating space for focus, trust and connection.

The result is a record shaped by Hiriketiya's enclosed bay, dense vegetation, heat and night air. Music formed through listening, restraint, missed recordings and the sensation of being temporarily held by a place.

2026 Repress

On Left At Sunset, Tornado Wallace taps into those fragile, glowing moments after a long night in the club, when the lights come up just enough, the bass softens, and the first hint of morning slips through the windows. Time feels suspended.
The lead track Asahi Ga Yondeiru (“the morning sun is calling”) captures that feeling perfectly. Built around Courtney Bailey’s gentle vocal, it drifts somewhere between late-night house and early morning reflection. It is not about the peak. It is about what comes after it. That quiet euphoria when you realize the night gave you something you will carry back into the real world. The rest of the EP stays in that same emotional zone: warm, slightly melancholic, but full of light. These are tracks for the very last dance, when the floor is half-empty, hearts are wide open, and every sound feels a little more meaningful. Not an ending, really. Just the beginning of whatever comes next.

'We Fell In Turn' is the solo debut from Brooklyn-based trombonist, composer, and quartet leader Kalia Vandever. Vandever, who plays with Harry Styles and Japanese Breakfast, “sculpts her trombone’s golden tones into dazzling compositions” (Pitchfork), writing music that tends to “dip you into a feeling or a pattern or a breathing speed, and keep you there” (The New York Times). In 2022, Vandever released Regrowth, an album that “features the ecstatic, brilliant melodies that have become Vandever’s signature sound” (Bandcamp). This spring, Vandever brings contemplative reflection to We Fell in Turn, a brave and understated work from an ascending voice in American jazz.

Recorded over three days in upstate New York, 'We Fell In Turn' is improvisational — a stark palate of solo trombone, voice, effects, and little more. “My solo process has always been heavily rooted in improvisation,” says Vandever. “I wanted the process to feel similar to the way I perform. Lee Meadvin, who engineered and produced the album, had a heavy hand in the creative process as well. He would dictate prompts before I started improvising and those pieces ended up shaping a lot of the imagery that comes up throughout the record.”

Connecting the dots between Jeff Parker’s 'Forfolks', and early releases from Grouper, 'We Fell In Turn' is a study of space and patience, embracing vulnerability in its sparse adornment. At times, the album is reminiscent of Patrick Shiroishi’s 'Hidemi', both in its familial inspiration and solo instrument study, while sharing the ineffable feel of William Basinski’s 'The Disintegration Loops' — the traces of her trombone folding in on themselves in an organic loop. Emotionally generous throughout, Vandever acts as a torchbearer for jazz’s historical yearning for connection.

On 'We Fell in Turn' Vandever draws inspiration from childhood memories — events that shaped her approach to love, community, and partnership, and her maternal homeland of Hawaii. “We were exploring childhood memories, earliest experiences with disappointment and pain, and my Hawaiian roots,” says Vandever. “We Fell In Turn came after I titled the track "We Wept In Turn". Both come from the intangible feeling of waking up from vivid dreams, particularly the experience of falling right before waking up or waking up in tears.”

Through this exploration into her heritage, Vandever also found guidance. “In Hawaiian mythology, ‘aumākua are known as ancestral spiritual guides that manifest in different forms, whether physical or intangible,” says Vandever. “My ‘aumākua visits me in my dreams, usually with a reassuring hug or a reminder of my past. Memories and early experiences seem to escape me, but find their way back in dreams.” And now they’ve found their way into 'We Fell in Turn', Kalia Vandever’s stunning solo debut.

"K8A a.k.a. Kaethe Hostetter is a New York–based violinist. composer, and bandleader, whose work grew out of eleven years living and collaborating in Ethiopia. As a founding member of Debo Band and QWANQWA, Hostetter has been performing Ethiopian music for over two decades, and her solo debut, Woradj Alle, builds on this legacy by reimagining Ethiopian songs through live-looped violin and electronics.
"The album unfolds as a hypnotic, ritual-like performance that expands the instrument into an immersive sonic landscape, that refracts Ethiopian classics through dub, psych rock, and avant improvisation. It is not fusion, but transmission - music that blurs memory, place, and time.
"This collection of musical vignettes is based on my time in Ethiopia, the place I called home for 11 years", Kaethe explains. "The phrase 'Woradj Alle' is one of the first colloquial expressions I learned upon arriving in Addis Ababa, used on public transportation, simply meaning 'let me off right around here'. In choosing this name, I invite you to join me on the rickety minibus journey through my time in Ethiopia, and step off 'the bus' into scenarios, atmospheres, and soundscapes that describe moments I experienced, people I met, and other lasting impressions, striking and mundane."

Collecting Orders For 2025 Repress

Backing it up can mean so many things. According to the urban dictionary, it means to carry on drinking the next day in spite of a rather large one the night before. According to Apple, it means to take your I-phone and attach it to an I-pad or Apple Mac - and copy the information to the cloud. Or the device. But in music.....what we mean is basically this....."Damn......that was a big hit......how the hell are they going to emulate that success on the next one."And it's hard for so many reasons. Was it luck Timing That one in a million sample With all the pressure, soon the artist can start second guessing themselves........and that's when backing it up becomes a real problem.But not for our boy PURPLE DISCO MACHINE. If BODY FUNK, his last outing on CLUB SWEAT, wasn't one of THE biggest songs of last year, from Ibiza to Miami and back again.....played by every single DJ under the sun, from BLACK MADONNA to JAMIE JONES to your mama......then I'm not sitting at my lap top writing this shpeel....which I'm very sure I am. AND I'm going to back myself (see what I did there) - and say that DISHED (MALE STRIPPER) is the best way to back up a hit ever. With another hit. Doesn't sound the same....doesn't worry about what the last one did...just does what it does.....which to be honest - is GO OFF!!!! It builds and builds and builds and......In the same way that BODY FUNK masterly made the sum of 2 disco songs bigger than their parts had ever been, this time PDM takes some Italo Disco from MAN TO MAN MEET MAN PARRISH's MALE STRIPPER and mashes it with the aptly named ELLIS D's DISHAPELLA to create a 12/10. Back it up PDM - you are a legend!!!!

The record is largely sung in Scots language, one of Scotland’s three official languages along with Gaelic and English. “Scots gives me a way of expressing myself which is connected directly with the landscapes I love. It brings the songs alive and it is a fascinating language. The name of the record is in Scots - Forefowk means the people who came before, or ancestors. When we say ‘mind me,’ we can mean a few things- remind, remember, watch over or care for me. The record explores how tradition needs to be constantly reconnected with, built upon, looked after, and shared.”
Quinie sings with a style inspired by Scottish Traveller singers. “I began singing unaccompanied Scots Song in 2015 after hearing Scots Traveller singer Sheila Stewart on the radio. Initially I felt like I shouldn't sing these songs because I'm not a Traveller, and I saw people around me doing that in a way that made me uncomfortable. But on the other hand this music made sense to me and I felt driven to learn. Over the years I have met Traveller friends who taught me that settled people sharing these songs could contribute to raising awareness. Scottish Travellers are marginalised and discriminated against in modern Scotland, despite being custodians of so many of our important traditions. So I started to perform them and tell this story. From there I built on my repertoire and started writing my own songs”.
To develop this record, Quinie travelled across Argyll with her horse. They went on a pilgrimage of sorts through the ancient landscapes of the West of Scotland to explore the interconnected relationships between people, ancestors, animals, and place. The album’s vinyl release is accompanied by a book and film, documenting this unusual research process.
Forefowk, Mind Me was recorded in August 2024 at The Big Shed in Highland Perthshire with support from Creative Scotland. Quinie is accompanied by an ensemble of musicians: Ailbhe Nic Oireachtaigh (viola), Oliver Pitt (duduk, bouzouki, percussion), Harry Górski-Brown (small pipes, violin), and Stevie Jones (double bass, recording, and mixing). Each of these artists brings their own distinctive voice, bridging contemporary experimental practice with worlds of traditional and early music.

Somewhere close to Manchester’s ever changing city centre, as the sun fades and peeks through the newest glass facade, you’ll find Shaking Hand. One part in shadow, the other basking in prisms of light as they sketch out their own sonic landscapes in the dusty redbrick mill they call home. One that is just about clinging on from the encroaching developments that surround them.

Against this back-drop where buildings are constantly torn down & built back again, the three piece craft away. Pulling from early post-rock, and 90s US alternative rock, crafting their own brand of Northwest-emo. Assembling something new, yet nostalgic. Looking ahead towards the transforming horizon. Shaking Hand’s music is built on tension and release – quiets that stretch, louds that overwhelm. Repetition that feels both hypnotic and destabilising.

The band’s musical DNA runs through experimental guitar outfits like Women, Slint, Sonic Youth, Pavement, and Ulrika Spacek, balanced with the melodic sensibility of Big Thief and the dynamic intimacy of Yo La Tengo. Their compositions push against structure: sudden jolts of tempo, polyrhythms that almost fall apart, and riffs that unravel into something fragile or ecstatic. Yet, as Ellis notes, there’s an underlying warmth too: “Like walking through an empty city late at night but catching flickers of life in the buildings you pass.”

Early ideas like ‘Night Owl’ and ‘Sundance’ grew out of George’s lockdown “bedroom years,” where new tunings (open E, drop D, and stranger Pavement-inspired set-ups) opened up uncharted textures. Later, in grim rehearsal rooms, the murky epic ‘Cable Ties’ and the hypnotic ‘Mantras’ absorbed the gloom and grit of the band’s surroundings.

The album was recorded with producer David Pye (Wild Beasts, Teenage Fanclub) at Nave Studios in Leeds, housed in a converted church. “The live room was huge and perfect for capturing our sound,” says George. Determined to bottle their onstage energy, the band tracked the foundations live, layering vocals and guitars later. Soviet-era microphones, odd mic placements, and even phone-recorded demos fed into the mix. “You’ve got to watch out for David though,” Freddie laughs. “He made me play four tambourines in one hand, really hurt, man.”

Lyrically, the record drifts between abstraction and lived moments. George’s words often spill out instinctively, words falling into place before their meaning becomes clear. “A lot of the lyrics look like they’re buried in abstraction,” he says, “but when I look back I can see what they were about — whether that’s an emotional response at the time or just an observation of what was happening around me”. There’s contrast at the heart of it all – optimism vs. doubt, the lightness of youth vs. the monotony of work, a city in constant redevelopment vs. the people drifting through it.

The album artwork is taken from unused plans for the 1970s redevelopment of Los Angeles by architect Ray Kappe, entitled ‘People Movers’. Hypothetical buildings for real people, it feels a complement to the band’s own constructions. One thing’s for sure, Shaking Hand’s debut is built to last.

After years of dormancy, Stilove4music is back with a brand-new 12” from label boss Jerome Derradji — the 52nd release since the label’s creation in 2005. You know the drill: Midwest disco floor bangers made strictly for discerning DJs.

Titled “Do or Don’t”, the EP delivers three essential joints:

“Disco Don’t” is a fast-paced, floor-destroying monster built for peak-time damage.

“Jazz Do” shifts gears into a mellower, psychedelic jazz disco zone, featuring Jerome on live piano, Fender Rhodes, and Korg DV800, with additional programming for good measure.

Closing things out is “Never”, a lovely, groove-heavy floor filler bursting with Brazilian love — again elevated with extra programming from Jerome.

All tracks were produced by Jerome Derradji at the Hirsch Society For Togetherness in Chicago circa 2025.

This isn’t a compilation—it’s a vinyl conversation between cities, generations, and musical bloodlines. This inaugural release embodies the spirit of collaboration, community, and cross-generational artistry that defines each artist’s deep musical legacy.

A statement on wax bringing together Glenn Underground, Coflo, Jon Dixon, Kevin Reynolds and sillygirlcarmen, this four-song project documents the shared language of five Artists through deep house, jazz roots, and forward-looking soul. Though these artists have shared DJ booths and dance floors around the world, this release marks a rare moment where their creative voices intertwine on wax. Each track stands on its own, but together they form a continuum—past, present, and future etched into wax. Pressed with intention and made for real systems, this release exists for the heads, the selectors, and anyone who still believes vinyl is where the story lives. Meant to be played—not archived. The kind of tracks that feel alive in the room and grow every time you hear them.

‘Ease’ EP tracks:
Glenn Underground ‘Dive (Into The Deep)’; the Chicago legend & Strictly Jaz Unit co-founder combines deep house, freeform jazz & soul, here in a jazz-infused, laid-back, hypnotic melange of house beat, synth chord riff, rippling arps, with a whisper of disco in the bassline and 80’s electro in the high, singing strings.

Coflo x sillygirlcarmen ‘Never Forget (That Feelin’)’; East Bay CA-based Coflo combines Hawaiian & Portugese roots with a global reach. A collaborative skipping house beat, pattering percussion & melodic jazz synth piano embrace sillygirlcarmen’s soulful voice and heartfelt lyrics. This collaboration marks a merging of emotional storytelling and percussive sophistication.

Jon Dixon ‘Saturday At Northland’; Detroit’s modern jazz & techno fusionist, rooted in long study and prestigious performance of classical & jazz piano both in orchestral and electronic contexts, employs his keyboard virtuosity in a thrilling wave of melodic piano improvisation & complex lively percussion, combining sheer craft with spiritual heft.

Kevin Reynolds ‘I Got Music’; from an Irish/US Detroit family, producer/live artist Reynolds blends techno, jazz, soul, from influences as diverse as 90s underground techno, Kraftwerk & John Coltrane, and roles/performances in multiple prestigious venues & positions. Here, a stealthy beat & Kraftwerk-evoking robotic electro synth theme are joined by a dual vocal used as a riff, while clusters of piano chords flower into jazz motifs.

Following the success of the first vinyl release from the Moroccan label Sotor Records, featuring Zadig, Perc & Oscar Mulero, Sotor writes a new chapter in its discography with its second vinyl release. Meaning "lines" in Arabic, Sotor reflects its commitment to championing the diversity of the techno genre.
The label's ninth release, "Processing Range," is a musical ode to the lines of space-time. With four original tracks from the Portuguese producer, Sotor invites you on a techno journey between mental tension and physical release.
The album opens with DJ Dextro's "Controle," which delivers a massive, sharp rhythm, dystopian synths, and a true immersion into a techno black hole.
The journey continues with the second track on side A. This time, DJ Dextro unleashes an uncompromising version of "Blue Dot," achieving a precarious balance while showcasing his signature percussive style. The Portuguese artist delivers the perfect track to unleash a crowd.
On the B-side, DJ Dextro offers us the eponymous track, "Processing Range." We're quickly drawn into an allegory of this decadent modern world where humanity is rushing towards its own destruction. Expect dusty techno rhythms and that sumptuous synth that sounds like the end of times. Probably a future classic!
And you'll finish on a gentler but no less dynamic note from DJ Dextro. He concludes the EP with "31 Atlas," which will leave you weightless with its galloping bassline and abyssal synth.

Leinenbezogene, foliengeprägte Tip-on-Gatefold-Hülle mit 24-seitigem Comicbuch im LP-Format.

The 3rd collaborative album between Les Claypool (Primus) & Sean Lennon (the previous sold over 150,000 combined) is an elaborate concept record reflecting on morality, the warnings of A.I., and the slippery slope of optimization without empathy. Told across 14 songs - which ooze with classic psychedelic / progressive rock stylings - and the accompanying comic book by Rich Ragsdale, The Great Parrot-Ox and The Golden Egg of Empathy is a peak for both The Claypool-Lennon Delirium and rock music at large.

Wasteland is a record that is unafraid to plunge into the darkness of the modern world and embrace the weirder, edgier and more unnerving moments that come from doing so. It is an album that captures all the enormity of life from the micro to the macro, zooming in on the personal as well reflecting on broader societal issues.

“Wasteland is about the idea of a place once known or familiar that is now broken down and unrecognisable,” says Ghedi. “It’s about exploring the process of watching someone’s surroundings and environment collapse.” And within that you have a lot going on. “It also explores death, personal loss, grief, mental health and how the natural world provides solace and meaning for that loss and how these worlds blur into one another.”
Ghedi has always been an artist that in many ways perfectly encompasses folk music in its purest form but he is also someone that frequently pushes the boundaries of that label and no more so is that apparent than on this record. As like previous albums, such as 2018’s A Hymn for Ancient Land and 2021’s In the Furrows of Common Place, Ghedi uses traditional folk songs as a means to explore contemporary issues via modern and experimentally-leaning music. “With the traditional material on this album I wanted to find songs with content that resonated with me,” says Ghedi. “But also that were based roughly around the north of England.” This is a central underlying theme to the album for Ghedi. The feelings of loss, erosion, and degradation are often most pronounced in working class communities and this was something he wanted to weave in. “It was important to voice and choose material that represented or expressed issues that correlated with things going on around me.”

However, as remarkable as some of the traditional material is, some of the most arresting work on the album is Ghedi’s entirely original compositions. Lead single ‘Wasteland’ is a stunning piece of work that while rooted in an environment being corrupted and broken – “there’s violence on these hills” Ghedi sorrowfully sings, before claiming this is no longer somewhere that can be called home – it is also a stirringly beautiful composition that soars and glides as it opens up, as sweeping strings swoop and in and out of Ghedi’s twangy electric guitar.

The decision to incorporate more fuller sounds, such as electric guitar and huge drums, results in a notable shift and evolution in tone for Ghedi. “The lyrical content needed something more band-driven and loud to deliver them,” he explains. “Incorporating the electric guitar in my songwriting was also a big part of opening the sound up, using drop tunings pushed me to use my voice in a wider range, which forced me to use falsetto a lot which I haven’t previously done before. That then opened the sound up and gave me creative ideas for bigger arrangements and to sonically really push things.”

What Ghedi has done in creating his masterpiece is construct a remarkable space where deeply intimate and personal feelings coexist with reflections on environment, place and society, while also interweaving historical context via traditional songs. Wasteland is as much of a world to explore and exist in as much as it is an album, with Ghedi carving out his distinctly unique sonic language and voice to explore that singular environment.

Wasteland is a record that is unafraid to plunge into the darkness of the modern world and embrace the weirder, edgier and more unnerving moments that come from doing so. It is an album that captures all the enormity of life from the micro to the macro, zooming in on the personal as well reflecting on broader societal issues.

“Wasteland is about the idea of a place once known or familiar that is now broken down and unrecognisable,” says Ghedi. “It’s about exploring the process of watching someone’s surroundings and environment collapse.” And within that you have a lot going on. “It also explores death, personal loss, grief, mental health and how the natural world provides solace and meaning for that loss and how these worlds blur into one another.”
Ghedi has always been an artist that in many ways perfectly encompasses folk music in its purest form but he is also someone that frequently pushes the boundaries of that label and no more so is that apparent than on this record. As like previous albums, such as 2018’s A Hymn for Ancient Land and 2021’s In the Furrows of Common Place, Ghedi uses traditional folk songs as a means to explore contemporary issues via modern and experimentally-leaning music. “With the traditional material on this album I wanted to find songs with content that resonated with me,” says Ghedi. “But also that were based roughly around the north of England.” This is a central underlying theme to the album for Ghedi. The feelings of loss, erosion, and degradation are often most pronounced in working class communities and this was something he wanted to weave in. “It was important to voice and choose material that represented or expressed issues that correlated with things going on around me.”

However, as remarkable as some of the traditional material is, some of the most arresting work on the album is Ghedi’s entirely original compositions. Lead single ‘Wasteland’ is a stunning piece of work that while rooted in an environment being corrupted and broken – “there’s violence on these hills” Ghedi sorrowfully sings, before claiming this is no longer somewhere that can be called home – it is also a stirringly beautiful composition that soars and glides as it opens up, as sweeping strings swoop and in and out of Ghedi’s twangy electric guitar.

The decision to incorporate more fuller sounds, such as electric guitar and huge drums, results in a notable shift and evolution in tone for Ghedi. “The lyrical content needed something more band-driven and loud to deliver them,” he explains. “Incorporating the electric guitar in my songwriting was also a big part of opening the sound up, using drop tunings pushed me to use my voice in a wider range, which forced me to use falsetto a lot which I haven’t previously done before. That then opened the sound up and gave me creative ideas for bigger arrangements and to sonically really push things.”

What Ghedi has done in creating his masterpiece is construct a remarkable space where deeply intimate and personal feelings coexist with reflections on environment, place and society, while also interweaving historical context via traditional songs. Wasteland is as much of a world to explore and exist in as much as it is an album, with Ghedi carving out his distinctly unique sonic language and voice to explore that singular environment.

Drawing inspiration from the novel Neuromancer, Drew Id’s cosmic new single launches us deep in to the solar system.

Interstellar Dub started as an experiment in minimal dub techno, but was eventually overwhelmed by dirty spring reverbs and phasing hi-hat delays. A heavyweight rhythm and a hypnotic bass form the foundation, while extra-terrestrial melodies and synthetic skanks add spice and colour to this off-world stepper.

On the meditative Aphid Steppa, dreamy guitar and melodica licks interplay with snarling synths and a percussion based rhythm, propelled along by a solid bassline, before finally giving way to a deep space outro.

The Meanjin / Brisbane based producer first came to prominence as guitarist for reggae band Kingfisha, but has slowly been building a profile for his dubwise productions, inspired by the UK steppers scene and Australia's outdoor bass culture, with releases on Culture Dub, Dubmission and Sub Channels.

Oceanine, Jolanda Moletta’s third album and her first for Beacon Sound, is a powerful and ethereal statement of artistic community. Expanding on her previous work, each track represents a collaboration with a different female vocalist, with the foundational elements being generated entirely by her own voice. By turns haunting, enchanting, and inspiring, you won’t want to come up for air once you’ve been pulled under. Representing a
musical practice that is distinctly feminist, this is an album with a longer view in mind, to an age when the altars were to goddesses and women were centered as powerful beings representing the earth’s cycles of regeneration and renewal. Oceanine then, in all its beauty, can be viewed as an album of survival. It is deeply transportive, accessing something that lies within all of us. As the late, great Lithuanian folklorist and archaeologist Marija Gimbutas noted, “We must refocus our collective memory. The necessity for this has never been greater as we discover that the path of 'progress' is extinguishing the very conditions for life on earth.”

Jolanda Moletta is a multimedia artist and one-woman electronic choir. She creates wordless compositions through extended vocal techniques, integrating wearable-controlled live processing, alongside symbolic visuals. Moletta considers her performances to be a collective ritual and creates her Sonic & Visual Spells following the cycles of nature and the moon. Jolanda's 2022 critically acclaimed album Nine Spells was released on the Ambientologist label, followed by Night Caves on Whitelabrecs in 2025. Moletta’s artistic practice is a radical and spiritual journey through sound art, ritual, and the symbolic archaeology of the feminine.

Oceanine is inspired by sirens, water nymphs, and the timeless call of the sea. At its core lies Jolanda’s deep, lifelong connection to the Mediterranean Sea and to the ancient and modern myths and folklore that have emerged from its waters. Growing up by the Mar Ligure, Jolanda was surrounded by stories carried by salt, wind, and waves: legends of sirens, echoes of ancient voices, and the sea as both origin and oracle. This intimate relationship with the Mediterranean is not merely a backdrop, but a living source that shapes Oceanine’s emotional, symbolic, and sonic world.

Each track features a different female vocalist, creating a rich tapestry of voices, styles, and perspectives. This artistic choice not only broadens the album’s sonic palette, but also deepens its narrative core: celebrating the power, beauty, and mystique of feminine energy through myth, history, and sound.

The entire album is built exclusively from the human voice, processed and layered, yet always remaining voice, and nothing else. For each piece, Jolanda invited every vocalist involved to contribute a raw stem: a short, unedited melodic fragment of just a few seconds, inspired by the album’s themes. These intimate vocal seeds became the foundation of each track: the guest artists’ voices appear as brief, melodic stems, while the entire surrounding “orchestral” fabric is created solely from Jolanda’s own layered and processed voice. In this way, Jolanda’s voice becomes the Ocean itself, embracing, absorbing, and carrying the sirens’ calls within a vast, immersive soundscape. Every song is a unique expression of the feminine experience, revealing its depth, complexity, and emotional range, echoing the call of the sea and the many faces of the siren archetype.

The figure of the siren has transformed across centuries. In myths of Ancient Greece and Rome, sirens were hybrid beings, part woman, part bird, whose irresistible songs lured sailors to their doom. During the Middle Ages, the image shifted toward the half-woman, half-fish figure, often associated with temptation and danger. Historically, the voice of women has often been feared. Sirens were considered harbingers of misfortune not simply because they seduced or destroyed, but because they were powerful liminal beings.

In Ancient Greek, sirens functioned as psychopomps: figures who existed between worlds and guided souls, especially between life and death. Their songs were believed to carry forbidden knowledge, including prophetic insight and the ability to reveal truths about fate and the future. The danger of the sirens lay in what they revealed: knowledge that humans were not meant, or ready, to hear.

Oceanine confronts this legacy head-on. The voices heard throughout the album are not merely beautiful: they are dark and luminous, wild and enchanting, magical, soothing, dreamy, and at times fractured or distorted. They whisper, lament, beckon, and enchant. Like sirens, they skim the surface of the water and sink into its depths, hovering on the edge between tenderness and danger, vulnerability and power. They rise toward the sky, dissolve into mist, and return as echoes charged with raw, elemental emotion: voices that seduce, warn, mourn, and remember. They refuse to be reduced to decoration.

Alongside the album’s release in May, Oceanine will also unfold as a visual and performative work through a short art film. The film includes a live session recorded inside a sea cave facing the Mar Ligure, the very coastline where Jolanda spent her childhood, dreaming of sirens and listening to the sea as if it were speaking directly to her. This site-specific performance reconnects the music to its place of origin, allowing the voice to resonate within stone, water, and air, and transforming the cave into both a sanctuary and a threshold between myth and reality.

What if the sirens’ songs were considered dangerous because they carried another truth, an ancient truth long forgotten?

Oceanine embraces the idea that we are still deeply woven into myth. Though we may see ourselves as rational and modern beings, our world is saturated with ancient symbols and archetypes, often distorted, simplified, or stripped of their original meaning. And if those symbols are allowed to shift, if the mirror once held by the siren becomes an invitation to look beyond appearances and into what has been obscured, then we may finally uncover a deeper truth and reclaim the voice that was always ours.

Oceanine is not just an album. It is a reclamation, a spell, and a call from the depths.