On "Chauffeur," The Womack Sisters reflect on the trials and tribulations they each faced while trying to make rent as car service drivers. A HARD-HITTING groove, and impassioned background vocals drive the song as the sisters plea "How many miles do I have to burn... Just to keep my place?"
There are no flowery metaphors here. This song is about the real struggles people face to survive everyday, in this case grappling with the futility of trying to stack meager fares into rent money.
Larry June has built a career on making hard work look effortless, and his album Who Coppin’ stands as a masterclass in smooth, lifestyle-driven West Coast hip-hop. The album delivers a high-grade mix of Bay Area luxury, entrepreneurial motivation, and unbothered charismatic flows. Spanning a laid-back audio palette designed for early-morning juice runs and late-night freeway cruises alike, Uncle Larry balances the discipline of a hustle-first mindset with warm, sun-drenched production anchored by crisp organic instrumentation and heavy-knocking bass.
The album features a tightly curated roster of collaborators who align seamlessly with Larry's signature aesthetic. Spoken-word encouragement from Wallo267 sets an intentional tone on the opener "Go Outside Intro," framing the record around execution and focus. Soulful contributions from Jhené Aiko on "California Dream" and Musiq Soulchild on "Pretty Green Eyes" provide lush R&B textures, while NorCal legend B-Legit and longtime partner DJ.Fresh reinforce June’s deep West Coast roots. Meanwhile, Swizz Beatz injects high-energy bounce into "Flex," offering a vibrant contrast to Larry’s understated, cool-headed cadence.
Behind the boards, top-tier producers like Cardo, Teeko, Beat Butcha, Jay Versace, and June Santana craft a nostalgic yet modern backdrop filled with warm sample flips, smooth G-funk synthesizers, and relaxed soul grooves. The project builds to an emotionally grounded conclusion on "God Got Us (Ain't Too Many)," where June strips away the flexes to offer direct encouragement to his audience, proving once again that consistency, self-belief, and steady progress remain the ultimate luxuries.
Ian Pooley returns with a brand-new collection of original productions, delivering exactly what you'd expect from one of house music's true craftsmen.
Road-tested throughout his recent live shows, these tracks have already proven themselves where it matters most: on the dancefloor. Staying faithful to his unmistakable MPC-driven approach, Ian delivers groove, feel and musical restraint in equal measure. Crisp drums, warm sampling, infectious basslines and subtle arrangements come together in a way that only he can deliver.
No overproduction, no unnecessary breakdowns, no gimmicks-just pure, functional house music built for DJs. Timeless, stripped-back and effortlessly effective, this is another reminder why Ian Pooley remains one of the genre's most respected producers.
The premise of this compilation is simple: music we’d like to hear at the airport.
The idea came after learning that Honolulu’s international airport has been playing AI-generated music over its speakers since November 2025. First reported by Civil Beat, the news has caused frustration and disappointment among residents and visitors, as well as within the local music community.
Everyone knows Hawaii is one of the most musically rich regions in the world — why then is the airport using AI music? 'Music For The Airport' is our response.
Located in the middle of the Pacific at the outskirts of one the most remote cities on the planet, Honolulu’s Daniel K. Inouye International Airport (HNL) is for most people the first place they encounter when they arrive in Hawaii. Warm sun, tropical tradewinds, playful palm trees and majestic mountains welcome every traveler, as do the sounds of birds, familiar music from Hawaiian artists like Aunty Genoa Keawe and Israel Kamakawiwo’ole, and—at least for now—seventeen “island-themed” AI-generated songs.
In late 1977, while sitting in Germany’s Cologne Bonn Airport on a Sunday morning, Brian Eno noticed how terribly uncomfortable he felt hearing the airport’s “muzak” overhead. For a harried, hurried place like the airport where travelers scramble to their gates, stand in long border control lines, and wait impatiently for their luggage at the carousels, music can create more anxiety than calm. Asking himself, "What should we be hearing here?", Eno soon created ‘Ambient 1: Music For Airports’, a sonic remedy aimed at reducing nervousness in public spaces.
When we heard the news that HNL airport is playing AI-generated “muzak”, we were immediately reminded of Eno’s genre-defying 1978 album. And we were similarly inspired to react. But how? Recreating an ambient masterpiece wasn’t in our wheelhouse. We started digging through our catalog of licensed music which we haven’t yet re-released. We quickly realized this was our chance to highlight some of favorite songs from the so-called CD era: the 1990s and 2000s (with a few exceptions). In less than 20 minutes, we pulled 17 original songs recorded by local artists between 1984 and 2017.
The speed at which this project came together surprised us; reactionary gut instinct often produces swift and lasting results. Ironically, our new compilation likely took less time than it did for the state Department of Transportation to commission its AI songs in question. But even though ‘Music for the Airport’ came together in less than one week, the truth is that this collection of 17 songs is the result of years of hard work, trust, sacrifice, patience, and understanding. Building relationships with and licensing music from artists doesn’t happen overnight, but more importantly: these songs are the result of people pouring their hearts and souls into something they believe in. This music wouldn’t exist today without the artists and their loved ones who supported them along the way.
As of this writing, the DOT states its intention in creating AI-generated songs is to “highlight different aspects of the islands, aviation and the airport” and that “no state funds were used to produce them”. Okay, but at what cost? Technology disrupting the music industry isn’t news to anyone. AI music in public spaces are cost-saving measures, since its users (airports, for example) don’t have to pay the licensing fees typically required, which can be a worthwhile source of revenue for artists. But what happens when a place like HNL airport, which hosts more than 21 million passengers annually, uses music created by machines instead of people to represent Hawaii? The identity of a place beings to erode, diluted by a language learning model’s conceptual summary of what a people and its culture sounds like. To echo Brian Eno: what should we be hearing here? In other words: what should the music of Hawaii sound like?
We believe in the power of music, especially when it comes from the soul. We believe in supporting artists, especially as AI disrupts our lives. We believe that Hawaii must be represented authentically, especially when it comes to song. And of course we believe in vinyl, especially since it was a record from 1978 (Mackey Feary Band’s debut LP) that inspired Aloha Got Soul’s origins in 2010.
We hope you find as much joy in this compilation as we have. Perhaps it’ll soundtrack your next journey to Hawaii. At the very least, we hope some people take a moment to hear these sounds: in your headphones for now‚ maybe someday overhead at the airport in Honolulu.
After the acclaimed Bar Mediterraneo, Massimo Di Lena and Lucio Aquilina return with People Of The Moon, expanding their sound into a space of creative freedom. The “People of the Moon” are not fictional, but a dimension within us all: a deeply personal yet universal force, an alternative mindset that emerges when freed from social constraints.
Under moonlight, the album explores anxieties and aspirations through groove and rhythm, expressed in Neapolitan, Arabic, English, Spanish, and Portuguese. It moves fluidly from Afro-Cuban influences in “Celavì” to Anatolian textures in “Ma Tu Che Bbuò”, blending highlife guitars with Nu Genea’s signature mandolins-new rhythms filtered through an Italian lens.
The first single “Sciallà” (2025) introduced this direction: dance as catharsis, not escape. The title track reflects a quiet resilience-persistent rather than triumphant. “Onenon”, featuring Tom Misch, channels Mediterranean brit-funk, while “Acelera”, with María José Llergo, evokes a flamenco-tinged pursuit of the unattainable.
“Puleza” recalls Nuova Napoli with driving energy and vintage synths, while “Shway Shway”, sung by Celinatique, captures the album’s orbital flow-measured, rich, and rhythmically complex, echoing afrobeat explorations with Tony Allen.
Melody remains central, as in “Carè”. Across ten tracks, falling, flying, and dancing merge in a suspended groove. Gabriel Prado’s “Ondas Do Mar” embodies this pull: a cyclical motion, like the tides—irresistible, transformative, and alive within us.
R.M.F.C. sound like? Let’s stay with the overused descriptors – I think R.M.F.C. is rock music band, more specifically a post-punk band. Indulge me. If you could say anything about post punk it means post-Wire, who were past punk before punk had an opportunity to codify and become everything brilliant and stupid that we’ve spent 40 years unpacking. Wire’s opening Pink Flag jab – Chairs Missing straight – and 154 hook knockout has haunted the mixing desks of ambitious post-punk bands since, and every major city in the western world has at least one Pink Flag band, one Chairs Missing band, one 154 band. Few bands manage to sound like all 3 records, but R.M.F.C. are a Rock Music Fan Club...
Anyone paying attention to underground Australian guitar overdose would relate: the R.M.F.C. Club Hits LP has been the culmination of five years of work, patience and discipline. If you’ve heard these songs live at any of their shows over the past couple of years you’ll understand – the wait is over and the result is exhilarating.
‘Bands like Devo, The Fall, and The Birthday Party have set the way for this type of post-punk rock (all in their own way). Surely, also, the rock scenes of the past fifteen years in Australia have also been influential. Thinking of bands like Royal Headache, Dick Diver, and Eddy Current Suppression Ring, there’s even been a fairly recent tradition of expanding styles of rock and roll (let alone the bigger, famous rock-centered acts). The Sydney based R.M.F.C., and the scene (or friend circle) from which it’s emerging, is carrying a torch of rock music which has the potential of a wider appeal.’ - POST-TRASH
The third and final volume of remixes of 'Come Into My Life' by Nathalie Capello and Rose Lonegran is yet another doozy for lovers of emotive, meaningful deep house. Another bunch of heavyweights step up, starting with Mystic Bill who teases out a steamy-hot lead and builds a vibe around it. UK mainstay Jimpster plays with a dubby and bubbly low end, while Move D finds jazz-funk in the squelchy bass. Last of all, Underground Quality head DJ Jus-Ed steps up with his remix and explores more dusty textures, a slightly unsettling synth vibe and roomy, hypnotic grooves for late-night dancing.
The sun sat high above the desert outside Joshua Tree on October 17, 2024, baking the rocks and shrubbery outside the Farrington Observatory as a small group of invited guests ventured up a steep path towards the telescope. Kyle Simon, the artist and printmaker who founded the Observatory, was standing outside the print studio sat below the towering cylindrical building, greeting friends alongside his wife Sarah and lifelong friend Brian Weitz, the musician widely known as Geologist of Animal Collective. Simon and Weitz had spent the previous day testing and retesting a system that would transform the light of the oncoming full moon captured by the gigantic telescope into a signal that would modulate the control voltage of Weitz’s modular synthesizer. As the sun dipped below the horizon line, the audience gathered on a small wooden patio surrounded by speakers while Weitz readied himself behind the array of patches and knobs. Simon addressed the group, presenting the history of The Sirens, the sonic exploration of the night sky’s mystical and scientific significance about to unfold.
The music conjured under the Hunter’s Moon that night is now documented on this first official release of The Sirens, which was conceived by Simon and Weitz as a recurring performance piece and sound installation. Over a decade ago, Simon began immersing himself in literature on humanity’s sonic relationship to the celestial realm, including Homer’s Odyssey, Plato’s “Spindle of Necessity, ” Kepler’s Harmonices Mundi, and the field of astroseismology. He fitted homemade telescopes with photodiodes and optical sensors to make the images audible, finding latent patterns in the noisy sonic signals he began receiving from the stars. With Weitz, the process expanded as the signal was routed through an analog amplifier and set to modulate the pitch, filter, and other elements of his synthesizer. Together they developed a system of improvisation, with Simon adjusting the telescope to change the intensity of the light based on its relationship with the moon’s position (imagine a theremin player moving their hands in subtle, meaningful motion), and Weitz responding to that input in real time: bending it, amplifying it, or letting it stand on its own. The duo debuted the piece at the Integretron in Joshua Tree in 2018, providing a crucial proof of concept for the performance at Farrington featured here.
The first thing the listener hears on The Sirens is the opening of Farrington Observatory, the cranking of motor and metal. As the lens of the telescope is exposed to the evening air, a wavering drone emerges from the synthesizer, flickering at the margins, the tuning of the oscillators adjusting to the rapidly cooling desert air. The piece progresses and the drone becomes a luminous, spherical constant, bathing the listener in pure tone as Weitz draws out harmonically ambiguous melodies that spiral upwards. Electronics crackle and convulse, coalescing into dense dissonance before widening out into an open octave. Just as the moon orbits the Earth and the stars shift as the planet rotates, so each sonic element appears in flux, interrelationships slowly forming and falling away. Divided into two parts, The Sirens flows as a continuous conversation between the artists and the starlight completing its thousand-year journey across the galaxy.
The Sirens belongs primarily to a lineage beyond music: of sea captains navigating by looking skyward, of astrophysicists studying the formation of the Milky Way, of the modern myths of werewolves, of the stories embedded in constellations. As Simon writes in the album’s extensive liner notes, “These stories and explorations reveal a collective yearning to become conscious of our connection to the universe, our deep-seated desire to understand how we fit into it all.” This music underscores the history of the night sky as the place where poetry and science find common ground, where exploration hinges on the imagination. Driven by curiosity and ingenuity, Weitz and Simon look up and wonder.
A glorious night of no particular significance, Totally, the new album by Baba Stiltz. Recorded in Helsinki in studio with a drummer and overdubs committed in 5 days. Ballroom- sink songs of loss, grief, long drives on the I-5, centralized acquisitions, and corrective conditioning towards the prolonged effects of computerized lifestyles.
Every song looks you straight in the eyes, crooked and veering towards a light fixture off the side of the mirror. Ambivalence and assertions track us, down some gauzy networked afternoon. Relatively, perfectly, three dimensional. Proportions as they appear to us from outer intuition. Sometimes meaning is evoked through pure nothingness. Concealed and nothing known. We have no need for any paradise informed by anything beyond what is directly in front of us.
Stone repetition thwarts the possibility of control and surrenders itself to understanding. Who are we, and what are we trying to understand? To understand being universally greater than being understood. There are soap operas everywhere for those with eyes to see. You don’t have to look as hard as we currently look. The dramatic is everywhere, we breathe it unintentionally, then we come to hate it. Haptic, embodied facts of a tedious life lodged in the jowls of history. Everything under the
sky being the best bedlam has to offer. Your family, your relationships, your memory. As you eat a burger you are reminded of every sharp protrusion and corner under the florescent lights, the same lights you see when you’re born, and although unconfirmed, when you die.
Some of these songs were written years ago, some recently. The bookshelf and television set come into full view. Women/men come and go. Stars and poseurs collapse under their alienated contradictions, the search for truth yields to continued gradients of probability (collapse). Spatial order maintains itself through perceptional feeling. Silence, singing along to Roger Miller, people entering and leaving, figures hovering over you in your dreams and waking hours. Cool and fun, Totally
It's hard to explain an album when one listen is enough. All the more so with MaMaMa: there's no room to stay passive. Listening to his new album, EST, means immersing yourself in an atmosphere that's softly psychedelic, comforting and organic all at once. A dreamy, electronic pop that proves this Strasbourg-at-heart, Paris-by-adoption musician, arranger, singer, songwriter and producer never stops reinventing himself. After changing his name — formerly Petit Prince — and delivering two critically acclaimed albums ("MaMaMa-gnificent." / "Hooks you carry in your head for a long time" / "sumptuous arrangements"), Elliott Diener now offers an even more sincere record. Real songs in French, after two albums where production sometimes took up all the space: "when you make heavily produced music, once you strip away the layers of sound, there's no fruit left underneath. On EST, I don't need makeup for the songs to work," he admits.
That's what this new album is about: the song and the French language first, then the pleasure of sound. An album less concerned with talking about its own making, more inhabited, more embodied, within a contemporary folklore. With this new album, don't expect to be bored: EST is his best record yet.
No pretense
Entirely conceived in his studio in Pantin — a room of his own, at last — imagined as a space free of any daydream, open to every sonic landscape, MaMaMa offers a record that's both hazy and downy soft. Often composed very early in the morning, it has become nostalgic without being dark, melancholic without being sad, with a few lineages showing through: Flavien Berger, Moodoïd, Feu! Chatterton for the taste for words and unease, Mount Kimbie for the approach to sound and rhythm. Unsurprising, given that EST was finalized with the British duo's producer. Live, MaMaMa is preparing a show in the style of Nicolas Jaar or UTO. Hypnotic and immersive.
The most liberating thing is that EST is an album without pretense. With it, we move through perseverance (in Aussi loin qu'il tiendra debout), the small arrangements we make to avoid facing reality (Tout sauf la vérité), and the fragility of bonds we thought were solid (Si bien ensemble). We also touch on lasting conflicts with the people we love (Anywhere You Are, There You Are), misunderstanding (Elle me parle une langue), and the erosion of friendships (S'envoler). EST draws an intimate and redemptive map of human relationships, in a body of work that's both lucid and sensitive — like when he also addresses social masks such as filial love (in Beau garçon, dedicated to his son) or relationships that have become impossible.
"It's really the album that sounds most like me, in terms of sonic landscape," Elliott points out. A record that rises above the noise of an imperfect, shifting world — like us — joyful in its words, liberating in its production. A true gem.
In a blizzard of crushed breaks and dissonant tones, Shelley Parker lands on Sneaker Social Club with her third album, Screed. Taking a forensic approach to noise sculpture and harmonic interference, the UK-based artist maintains a fringe perspective on the legacy of hardcore-derived dance music, extrapolating the renegade spirit of the earliest innovators into unexplored zones where sound art and sound systems collide.
Parker's path through the underground has been informed by her art school background, equally at home in the parallel world of galleries, installations and institutions as she is in the club. This dualistic dimension to her practice charges her music with an outsider spirit that manifests across 10 striking new productions on Screed. Focusing on the sound over an umbrella concept, it's an album that rejects comfortable, functional formulae in favour of original expression.
There are plenty of forthright structures for DJs and dancers to lock onto, from the militaristic techno thrust and tightly clipped breakbeat loop of 'Relentless' to the splayed boom bap guiding the giddy string sequences of 'Stargazer Lily'. The insistent pulse of 'April' meanwhile offers only the faintest of paths to navigate dense thickets of jerky, swinging static and metallic clamour. 'Georgian Wire' closes the record out on dissembled drum licks with a brittle patina - a scooped out closer with the skeletal remains of a rave dialect that's second nature to someone with as much skin in the game as Parker.
In amongst those tracks lies a wide-ranging tapestry of rhythmic, textural and emotional approaches, from head-knocking beatdowns to billowing clouds of dub techno, angular stabs and industrial smudges. On Screed, Parker proves herself to be peerless and purposeful in her quest to find new forms within the well-worn canon of hardcore and rave.
The fifth album from Saint Abdullah & Eomac began as a poem and became a record that refuses to stay in one place. The title arrived in a cab in Paris. Mohammad Mehrabani read it aloud from a list of options. Ian McDonnell said: that's interesting, what does that mean? The answer, it turned out, was the album. Their fifth album When The Sandbox Has No Edge is rooted in hip hop, but its cast tells you how far it travels. Abbas Zahedi, Richie Culver, and Armand Hammer contribute vocals and poetry. Lester St. Louis brings cello. Che Chen of 75 Dollar Bill brings guitar. The producer and sound designer Seraphim contributed textures and sound designs throughout. Samples run deep, from records pulled from charity shops to market stalls on road trips across the UK. Raw fragments were shaped into fully formed compositions, structuring the chaos without flattening it. The sandbox, rendered without an edge.
With her fifth solo studio album, Half An Owl And A Full Moon Rising, landing on Dekmantel Records, Steffi harnesses the energy of the dancefloor for a powerful, uplifting ride into the core of what makes this culture so transformative. From her years as a dedicated raver in the late 80s, through to her global tours, prolific production and ceaseless love for music in its many forms, Steffi's innate understanding of the dancefloor informs this new body of work. Key to all of this is the joy of the club experience: the high energy and the vibrational field that's created when the DJ, their musical selections and the dancers align on the same wavelength. The "Feel Factor" as she calls it. Even the title is a reference: half an owl meaning half a pill.
Each track is imbued with pure, unfiltered club energy. Steffi's approach with her albums is to start from scratch, working up and out from a core idea rather than compiling music from an existing collection, and Half An Owl And A Full Moon Rising is comprised of eight cuts, whittled down from over 40. Opening with 'The Rolling Wave', the album immediately transports the listener into a world of emotionally and physically moving soundscapes. Across all eight tracks Steffi weaves together potent drum programming with ethereal pads, strings, heartrending melodies and straight up grooves: honest, no fluff productions that are designed for a very specific purpose. Listening to cuts like 'Sweeping Leaps', you can hear echoes of the huge variety of house and techno Steffi has absorbed. The title track wraps you up in its scintillating rhythms and heady strings, while, midway through, 'Acoustics Of Space' fires on all cylinders with its dynamic tempo, relentless drums and euphoric pad work.
Trumpeter, rapper and sonic wanderer Pan Amsterdam has carved out one of the most distinctive voices operating at the intersection of jazz and hip-hop today.
Pan Amsterdam is a musical enigma wrapped in an enduring riddle. His creator is a jazz musician from Houston who’s found fame working with Detroit punk rock God, Iggy Pop, and British indie royalty, Metronomy, and now makes shapeshifting, adventurous hip hop out of the music’s spiritual home, New York.
He’s an irreverent character born out of frustration and named after a misunderstanding, yet one who’s on the verge of releasing his fifth album of truth-slaying, genre-crossing rhymes and beats. The result is a catalogue that feels both deeply rooted in Black American musical tradition and completely untethered by convention.
Pan Amsterdam returns with ‘Panarama’, his fourth full length album and a bold reassertion of his hip hop identity, released via Def Pressé. Created by Houston-born, New York-based musician and composer Leron Thomas, the record finds Pan Amsterdam embracing the harder edges of his sound while continuing to blur the lines between jazz improvisation, abstract rap, punk attitude, and experimental production
Written as a response to contemporary life and the endless cycle of information, conflict and distraction that defines modern culture, ‘Panarama’ unfolds as a stream of consciousness journey through hyper-normalised realities. Across sixteen tracks, Thomas navigates social commentary, personal reflection, absurdist humour, and cultural critique, delivering his observations with the same spontaneity and freedom that have become central to the Pan Amsterdam project
Lead single ‘Szechuan Beef’, produced by acclaimed collaborator 1FS, serves as one of the album’s defining statements. Built around Thomas’ signature free-flowing delivery, the track explores the overwhelming nature of contemporary life, where domestic conflict, social division, entertainment scandals and political discourse become flattened into a constant stream of content.
In Thomas’ own words: “My stream of consciousness style comes quite naturally to me due to the conditioning of scroll down culture where everything, no matter how minor or extreme, is hyper normalised.”
Elsewhere, the track ‘Vanilla Ice’ was written in response to widely publicised ICE killings and the speed at which tragedy is absorbed and forgotten within online culture. Thomas channels the anxiety and emotional disorientation of endlessly consuming information, allowing his thoughts to unfold in real time as social commentary collides with everyday digital noise. The result is both deeply personal and sharply observational, reflecting the fragmented reality of modern life. Other album highlights include the cinematic, Interpol-esque opener - ‘Old Friend’ complete with shimmering guitar lines and an far-reaching introspective, no-filter vocal as Thomas teams up with Nick Zinner (Yeah Yeah Yeahs) and Brad Truax (Interpol) across multiple tracks, often the production traverses left-field indie territory, but always maintaining Pan Amsterdam’s unique musical identity throughout. For the hip hop purists and beats lovers there are plenty of riches to discover from the clever nostalgic sample flips of ‘Cutlery’, the sleepy lofi of ‘Shuriken’ and the wonky LA beat scene / early Flying Lotus era beats of ‘Drunken Noodles’ - all boasting quick witted lyricism. ‘Deep Fried Shiney Things’ explores early electro and industrial sonics while album finisher is an upbeat new wave / indie band cut which sees Thomas take a break from rapping, but of course never letting up on the sharp observations nonetheless
While his previous record explored more alternative territory, ‘Panarama’ marks a deliberate return to rap, as Pan Amsterdam explains:
“I just wanted to do a rap album again.I enjoyed making my last album, but I felt like rapping again. I like to have the freedom to move in between musical worlds that suit the current state I’m in. Frequency accommodating frequency.”
This philosophy runs throughout the album. Tracks move effortlessly between jazz-inflected arrangements, experimental beats, punk energy and underground hip hop aesthetics, allowing ideas to evolve organically rather than conforming to traditional structures. Thomas describes himself as an improviser first and foremost: “I think like an improvisor. That’s how my albums pretty much move. It’s improvisation.”
Featuring additional contributions from Spice Programmers, AnOtter and Mr. Shn, ‘Panarama’ presents a wide-ranging cast of collaborators while remaining firmly rooted in Thomas’ singular creative vision. The record embraces contradiction, humour and unpredictability, capturing fleeting thoughts and observations with the same freedom and spontaneity that define jazz improvisation itself.
A musical enigma wrapped in an enduring riddle, Pan Amsterdam has built a reputation as one of contemporary music’s true outsiders. The project emerged from frustration, experimentation and artistic freedom, with Thomas drawing equally from his background as a jazz musician and his collaborations with artists including Iggy Pop and Metronomy. Operating from New York while carrying the spirit of Houston’s musical heritage, Pan Amsterdam has developed a distinctive voice that sits comfortably between avant-garde jazz, underground hip hop and experimental music.
Reuniting with Def Pressé for ‘Panarama’, Thomas explores what he describes as the more hardcore side of his artistic identity:
“They let me do anything and everything I wanna do so long as it’s on audio, and I need that freedom. What may verbally be perceived as vulgar to one group of people may be very thoughtful and a poignant description of the times that we’re presently in, so I’m glad that I’m part of a label home that understands that.”
Hopsydian are an Italian pop-metalcore outfit from Milan, formed in 2024, combining alluring and sacral atmospheres with modern metalcore power, alt-metal edge, and post-hardcore urgency.
Built on cinematic tension and explosive dynamics, their sound fuses dark, ritualistic undertones with sleek contemporary production and massive, chant-ready choruses
where beauty and brutality collide in equal measure.
The band was formed by vocalist Myles Idolo alongside guitarists Loris Ronchi and Nikolay Deliyski, later completed by bassist Roberto Vezi. The drummer remains anonymous. Their name--Hopsydian--comes from Hope and Obsidian, a ""magic rock"" symbolizing resilience, shadow, and rebirth, perfectly reflecting the duality at the heart of their music.
Hopsydian revolve around worship, love, obsession, sin, and the temptation of becoming God--balancing the holiness of gold with the black of transgression. Hopsydian balance modern heaviness with cinematic elegance--where intimate melodies and shimmering textures collide with crushing riffs and commanding rhythm sections. Their songs move like a ceremony: building atmosphere, sharpening emotion, and detonating into choruses designed to be shouted back from the crowd. Hopsydian explore the most dangerous forms of faith:
worship, love, obsession, sin, and the seduction of becoming God. Their narratives live in extremes:
desire framed as devotion, temptation disguised as salvation, and beauty that burns at the edges. It's an aesthetic of contrast: the holiness of gold set against the darkness that it can't fully conquer.
Benjamin Wilson from band Caskets helped the band develop their album artistic direction
Despite having released only six songs, Hopsydian have already proven their live impact. In 2025, they debuted on the Slam Dunk Italy main stage, sharing the bill with names such as LANDMVRKS, A Day To Remember, and Caskets, before going on to support Caskets in Milan shortly after. Momentum is building fast--and with a fanbase already demanding the next step, Hopsydian are poised to turn their growing catalogue into what it's meant to become: a fully-fledged era, and the tour that brings it to life.
Familiar. Usually reserved for things we think we know. A face, a place, a feeling, a record perhaps. Until, of course, they aren’t quite the same anymore. Or maybe you aren’t.
Jennifer’s debut album lives somewhere around there.
It’s a record about time, which is already a fairly ambitious subject considering nobody seems to have figured that one out yet. More specifically, it’s about what
time does to a person. The old versions, the new versions, and all the ones in between that you only notice when something suddenly brings them back. Someone you
haven’t seen in years. A room you used to know. A certain way the light falls. That sort of thing.
There’s a bit of a doppelgänger situation going on, too. Finding something completely new and somehow recognising it. Meeting yourself again without immediately realising who you’re talking to.
Which can be nice. Or strange. Usually both. The songs on Familiar sit comfortably with that contradiction. Looking backwards without wanting to go back. Missing things without necessarily wanting them
returned. Realising that people who once occupied most of your waking hours can become people whose address you don’t know. Meanwhile, some tiny, seemingly irrelevant detail from fifteen years ago remains perfectly intact.
Memory has its own filing system. Not a particularly sensible one.
Jennifer wrote a series of poems alongside the album. In them, familiarity appears in melting snow, rough coastlines, a kitchen already warm in the morning, somebody’s hands fitting into yours. Elsewhere she wonders about someone she
once knew everything about and now knows nothing about. They could live around the corner. They could live on another continent. They could, technically, be dead. Probably not. But that’s time for you.
Maybe Familiar is less about remembering who you were than realising you never entirely stopped being them. Things get added. Things disappear. Things come back looking slightly different.
And somehow, you recognise them.
Kito Jempere has spent more than two decades building a universe of his own, with releases on Mule Musiq, DFA and other influential labels, alongside remixes from Ewan Pearson and others. With Other People’s Aesthetics, that universe finally opens outward. After years of protecting his own musical language, Kito lets the outside world in—embracing the sounds, artists and scenes that have shaped him, from house and techno to Aphex Twin, Warp, Ninja Tune and Omar-S. The result is a personal universe merging with the world beyond it. The album opens with “Change For Now,” a collaboration with longtime friend Lipelis (L.I.E.S., Public Possession, Running Back), marking a friendship that has grown over the past decade. “Teaser,” originally released on Mule Musiq, returns in a new album “Dub” version, with fewer vocals and a stronger garage-house feel—a direct statement of love for David Lynch. “OPA” looks back to Kito’s original half-jazz, half-drum’n’bass sound and the Uniquetunes era of the early 2000s, alongside the music he absorbed from CDs by Amon Tobin, Squarepusher, Skalpel and The Cinematic Orchestra. “Listens To Selected Ambient Works Once” is a direct homage to Aphex Twin, given a Warehouse-style treatment for bigger dancefloors. “I’m Not A Doctor, Either,” featuring mishinuki—previously heard on Green Monster in its Moloko homage—builds towards an epic, euphoric string finale. “Kobayashi Porcelain” closes the record by combining memories of Usual Suspects with Moby-like atmosphere and an Omar-S-type beat. The release of Other People’s Aesthetics will be followed by a Japan tour in December 2026 and Kito Jempere’s ongoing residency at Honeycomb Hi-Fi in Dubai. Early support from: Ata, Reznik, Horse Meat Disco, Vladimir Ivkovic, Tim Sweeney, Max Pask, Rich Thair of Red Snapper, Ame, Ellen Allien, Benji B, John Tejada, The Blessed Madonna, Hard Ton
A landmark in Detroit deep house, Forevernevermore is Moodymann’s second full-length album on Peacefrog Records. This 2000 release sees Kenny Dixon Jr. at his most soulful and experimental, blending dusty samples, live instrumentation, and hypnotic grooves into a deeply personal sonic collage. Drawing from his earlier KDJ releases, the album reimagines rare cuts into a cohesive, emotionally rich journey through love, loss, and the spirit of the Motor City. Essential for fans of deep, narrative-driven house music.
Smokey 2LP with limited edition Obi Stip to celebrate the 35-year anniversary
The threeway combo you never knew you needed. Sam Binga, Machinedrum and Cesco built the raw bones of these tunes across a single morning in LA, overlooking MacArthur Park, in an intense session that saw them throwing live Bingerian vocals, raw Brazilian shrimp-sellers and tweaked-out Acid lines into the melting pot.
Further sessions between Highland Park and Stokes Croft saw these bare bones jams get fleshed out into the four genre-bending tracks that make up the Niche Flex EP, all of which have been tested out in clubs and festivals across the world, and which land this September via Binga's Pineapple Records imprint, on both vinyl and digital formats.
While obviously handy in the studio, Team MACESGA (as nobody calls them) also can operate a DJ booth to a reasonably high standard, as witnessed at the raucous Pineapple Takeover at the Beatport HQ in LA, and are available to showcase their Transatlantic Threesome at a Quality Music Venue or Devious Fetish Spot near you.
"Broken Home"tells the story of an escape that doesn"t really lead anywhere. The song depicts leaving a dysfunctional home hoping to find something better,only to end up in a worldthat feels just as chaotic and empty. The journey takes on a surreal tone, filled with striking, symbolic images: glittering but hollow figures, cheap messiahs, plastic saints-signs of a society that builds superficial, interchangeable idols. Surrounded by a hyperconnected crowd, there"s still a deep sense of isolation running through everything. The city itself feels saturated with excess, addiction, and illusion, where even moments of "cleanliness" or redemption seem fake, as if something as simple as rain could wash everything away. At its core, the song explores alienation and disillusionment, suggesting that escaping your past doesn"t mean much if the world you run into is just as broken.
