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With his highly accomplished third album If This Is It, DJ Seinfeld (Armand Jakobsson) evolves further into the artist he always set out to be, refining his emotional, club-leaning sound across nostalgic house, UKG, and 2000s-tinged trance.

The 12-track LP — featuring SG Lewis, Confidence Man, TS Graye, Dan Whitlam, ARY, “Norwegian pop witch” Moyka, and Barry Can’t Swim affiliate just lil — explores letting go in a world that can often feel overwhelming.

“A million ideas turned into a few, a few turned into no ideas at all, and no ideas eventually turned into one,” says Jakobsson of the album, which he began the week his acclaimed 2021 record Mirrors was released. “Through writing it, I’ve tried to turn long-held anxieties into acceptance, and I hope listeners can take their own meaning from it.”

With his highly accomplished third album If This Is It, DJ Seinfeld (Armand Jakobsson) evolves further into the artist he always set out to be, refining his emotional, club-leaning sound across nostalgic house, UKG, and 2000s-tinged trance.

The 12-track LP — featuring SG Lewis, Confidence Man, TS Graye, Dan Whitlam, ARY, “Norwegian pop witch” Moyka, and Barry Can’t Swim affiliate just lil — explores letting go in a world that can often feel overwhelming.

“A million ideas turned into a few, a few turned into no ideas at all, and no ideas eventually turned into one,” says Jakobsson of the album, which he began the week his acclaimed 2021 record Mirrors was released. “Through writing it, I’ve tried to turn long-held anxieties into acceptance, and I hope listeners can take their own meaning from it.”

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.

Claudio Mate announces the launch of his new solo imprint, Claudio Mate Records.

As the name suggests, the label serves as a personal platform where Claudio explores his past, present and future works, shaping his sound into a more spiritual and meditative direction.

The imprint will also feature collaborations with friends, artists and creative connections established over the years across the globe, while carrying his typical forward-thinking approach and a distinctive imprint sound trademark.

Over the past two decades, Claudio Mate’s music has received recognition and support within the electronic music scene, from main stage artists while remaining rooted in more underground circles.

Claudio Mate Records marks a new chapter in his artistic journey — a dedicated space where sound becomes introspective, evolving and deeply connected to emotion.

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天 (Ten) CMR - 001
The Japanese kanji 天 (Ten) means “heaven”, “sky”, and the natural order of the universe — something vast, unseen, and beyond human control.

For the Japanese, 天 is more than a symbol: it embodies the connection between humans and the cosmos, the divine order that guides life, and the higher realms where sacred forces reside. In Japanese Buddhism, it refers to celestial realms and higher states of existence; in Shinto, it evokes the sacred heavens of the kami. But TEN is not about reaching heaven.

It's a deep, dub techno journey through shadow and space — obscure, hypnotic, and timeless. Sound that drifts between worlds, suspended in something greater than the sky itself.

The EP also features Atarashii Hi (“a new day”), a classic deep Detroit techno cut in true Claudio Mate style.

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.

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.

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.

"I wanted to travel / Home into somewhere,"Ana Roxanne breathes across an eerie suspended drone on "The Age of Innocence". "I wanted to try / And go very far." These are the first words we hear on Poem 1 and reintroduce an artist who's in a conspicuously different phase of her life than she was when her debut album, Because of a Flower, sprouted nearly six years ago.

Heartbroken and reflective, Roxanne surveys the transformations that followed and displays a new-found boldness. Her voice is naked, vulnerable and alive, no longer shrouded in tape noise or looped and echoed beyond recognition beneath layered electroacoustic textures.

Throughout the course of Poem 1, Roxanne displays her skill as a singer and songwriter in the classic sense, using the limited instrumentation simply to accent her exposed tones. Muted piano phrases and plucked bass notes languidly trail her anguished siren song on "Berceuse in A-flat Minor, Op. 45", making each word count.

On "Keepsake" meanwhile, she sounds as if she's alone in an abandoned bar, stroking the dust off the piano's keys as she inventories her emotional scars. There's a smell of old whisky in the air, but Poem 1 is a remarkably sober album; never wallowing in self pity, Roxanne finds catharsis in the logic of her expressions, twisting out the edges of her memories into surreal, cinematic asides. "Untitled II", the album's pronounced, uninhibited centerpiece, delivers on the Lynchian promise that's been present since her first EP, 2019's ~~~. "

And when she interprets the Robert Schumann's lied "Stille Tränen" on "One Shall Sleep", she turns Justinus Kerner's words into a whispered echo of her own grief, narrating the 19th century poem over syrupy synthesizers and strings. There's a light emerging on the horizon, though; burying her past on the choral standout '"Cover Me", Roxanne shifts the pace and the mood on 'Atonement', lifting her voice into a gentle lilt.

The year was 1985. The reformation of Sweet was under way. I had been hanging out with Mick Tucker and we’d talked about putting together a “new” Rock line-up of Sweet after the hiatus of the original band. I had recruited Phil Lanzon on keyboards and Mal McNulty on bass, now we needed the Voice! Paul Mario Day walked in and we looked no further. Paul was the original singer with Iron Maiden and had a stint with the band More before he joined Sweet. Our first dates were in Australia, total sell-outs which boded well for the future. Europe followed suit and 3 sold out nights at the original Marquee Club in London produced a live album, video and DVD. “Live at the Marquee” did well in various charts around the world and Paul’s vocal performance has stood the test of time. There were also tracks recorded at Pacific Studios in London which feature Paul’s incredible vocals. These recordings were meant to be the start of a new phase for Sweet but due to a management dispute only 4 tracks were released. Sadly Paul is no longer with us but the legacy is right here for everyone to appreciate.

The year was 1985. The reformation of Sweet was under way. I had been hanging out with Mick Tucker and we’d talked about putting together a “new” Rock line-up of Sweet after the hiatus of the original band. I had recruited Phil Lanzon on keyboards and Mal McNulty on bass, now we needed the Voice! Paul Mario Day walked in and we looked no further. Paul was the original singer with Iron Maiden and had a stint with the band More before he joined Sweet. Our first dates were in Australia, total sell-outs which boded well for the future. Europe followed suit and 3 sold out nights at the original Marquee Club in London produced a live album, video and DVD. “Live at the Marquee” did well in various charts around the world and Paul’s vocal performance has stood the test of time. There were also tracks recorded at Pacific Studios in London which feature Paul’s incredible vocals. These recordings were meant to be the start of a new phase for Sweet but due to a management dispute only 4 tracks were released. Sadly Paul is no longer with us but the legacy is right here for everyone to appreciate.

The year was 1985. The reformation of Sweet was under way. I had been hanging out with Mick Tucker and we’d talked about putting together a “new” Rock line-up of Sweet after the hiatus of the original band. I had recruited Phil Lanzon on keyboards and Mal McNulty on bass, now we needed the Voice! Paul Mario Day walked in and we looked no further. Paul was the original singer with Iron Maiden and had a stint with the band More before he joined Sweet. Our first dates were in Australia, total sell-outs which boded well for the future. Europe followed suit and 3 sold out nights at the original Marquee Club in London produced a live album, video and DVD. “Live at the Marquee” did well in various charts around the world and Paul’s vocal performance has stood the test of time. There were also tracks recorded at Pacific Studios in London which feature Paul’s incredible vocals. These recordings were meant to be the start of a new phase for Sweet but due to a management dispute only 4 tracks were released. Sadly Paul is no longer with us but the legacy is right here for everyone to appreciate.

The year was 1985. The reformation of Sweet was under way. I had been hanging out with Mick Tucker and we’d talked about putting together a “new” Rock line-up of Sweet after the hiatus of the original band. I had recruited Phil Lanzon on keyboards and Mal McNulty on bass, now we needed the Voice! Paul Mario Day walked in and we looked no further. Paul was the original singer with Iron Maiden and had a stint with the band More before he joined Sweet. Our first dates were in Australia, total sell-outs which boded well for the future. Europe followed suit and 3 sold out nights at the original Marquee Club in London produced a live album, video and DVD. “Live at the Marquee” did well in various charts around the world and Paul’s vocal performance has stood the test of time. There were also tracks recorded at Pacific Studios in London which feature Paul’s incredible vocals. These recordings were meant to be the start of a new phase for Sweet but due to a management dispute only 4 tracks were released. Sadly Paul is no longer with us but the legacy is right here for everyone to appreciate.

The year was 1985. The reformation of Sweet was under way. I had been hanging out with Mick Tucker and we’d talked about putting together a “new” Rock line-up of Sweet after the hiatus of the original band. I had recruited Phil Lanzon on keyboards and Mal McNulty on bass, now we needed the Voice! Paul Mario Day walked in and we looked no further. Paul was the original singer with Iron Maiden and had a stint with the band More before he joined Sweet. Our first dates were in Australia, total sell-outs which boded well for the future. Europe followed suit and 3 sold out nights at the original Marquee Club in London produced a live album, video and DVD. “Live at the Marquee” did well in various charts around the world and Paul’s vocal performance has stood the test of time. There were also tracks recorded at Pacific Studios in London which feature Paul’s incredible vocals. These recordings were meant to be the start of a new phase for Sweet but due to a management dispute only 4 tracks were released. Sadly Paul is no longer with us but the legacy is right here for everyone to appreciate.

Chicken Shack are a British blues rock band founded in 1965 by Stan Webb, Andy Silvester, and Alan Morley, who were later joined by Fleetwood Mac’s Christine McVie, then still known as Christine Perfect. They signed to the legendary British blues label Blue Horizon in 1967.

O.K. Ken? is the band's second studio album from 1969 and reached #9 in the UK Albums Chart. The record was Perfect's last album as a member of Chicken Shack; she would join Fleetwood Mac a year later in July 1970. Her tune "Get Like You Used to Be" from the album became a staple of Fleetwood Mac's live act until 1975.

O.K. Ken? is available with the original UK cover, as a limited edition of 1000 individually numbered copies on red vinyl.

Tajemnica is a transgression—too gentle for dancing, too euphoric for standing still. Sparse, scarce, and subtle, the new album by Polish performance artist, musician, and poet Wojciech Kosma, aka spalarnia, eagerly explores modern dance genres, experimental production, and nostalgic electronics to surrender to what is truest—essential song forms, melodies, harmonic and rhythmic basics, the most resonant feelings.

Sung in spalarnia’s trademark soft, low, almost tactile voice, the eight hypnotic songs tell stories of closeness and love, and their favored companions—pain and heartbreak. In “Bliżej” he sings “I love not loving you / I want to be a part of you.” And in “Jedyna”—the album's single—he states: “You are the only one / there is no other me / only the one for whom you are the only one.”

Contrary to the meaning of its Polish title (Tajemnica translates to “secret”), the album that moves between ghostly ambient pop, languid R’n’B, and Eastern European folk doesn’t reveal anything outright—the music only points to where the secrets might lie. One can choose whether to hear them or not.

After their last album six years ago, "Primal Forms," the new album by Phantom Horse, finally arrives. The German duo of Ulf Schütte and Niklas Dommaschk have long established a reputation for expertly crafted, hypnotically slow-burning electronic music, and we do not hesitate to say that "Primal Forms" stands among the epitomes of their discography.

The sequencing of "Primal Forms" cannot be underestimated. It is an album in the classic sense. It demands to be listened to in its entirety, which also points to a closer affinity with Krautrock. Likewise, a touch of dub is perceptible, wafting around the songs, which, as usual, bear clandestine titles. It is not unreasonable to see in these compact compositions a clear statement against multitasking.

Phantom Horse are not trumpeters of dystopia. They present themselves resolutely, almost stoically, turned away from the world. This turning away is clearly a statement that can be contemplated in the Mariana Trench as well as in comet belts. In any case, it is best experienced in a space without any human beings. This does not mean that grumpy hermits are tinkering with synths behind closed shutters, armed with wooden walking sticks. This is still open minded music with a connection to current developments. The approach itself is what is audible, and with it, Phantom Horse proves once again that their main connection to time is timelessness.

In an age of all-encompassing distraction on every sensory, thematic, and semantic level, Phantom Horse explores the possibilities of reduction, searching for simplified melodic arcs without resorting to the vocabulary of classical minimalism. The overall impression is more electronic; the slowly shifting, polyrhythmic compositions repeatedly lead to a peculiar danceability. However, these are perhaps the dances of mechanical birds, undeterred by anything.

Written and produced in Hamburg, Nijmegen and Ojén by Niklas Dommaschk & Ulf Schütte
Mastering by Rafael Anton Irisarri at Black Knoll
Artwork by Daniel Castrejón

There comes a point in every bands life when originality stops being a virtue and honesty takes the wheel. On their 11th long-playing record: Forgeries (72-84)-(16)- return to the impulse that first dragged them into loud rooms and bad ideas: the urge to steal what we love and make it semi-unrecognizable through devotion. We have partnered with Heavy Psych Sounds Records to release a collection of covers that function less as homage and more as a possession to be given away. The artworkrendered by the ever-amazing Maraldcompletes the ritualiconicunsettlingand unafraid. Weve always believed that a great cover is not mimicry but revelation. Its finding a song that's already lived inside you since youth and letting it crawl outbruised and changed. From the early 90s onward-(16)- have treated covers as translations rather than as replicasacts of tribute and emulationfiltered through distortionfatigueand lived experience. These are songs that taught us how to standhow to falland how to keep going. In our collective headthis album exists because these songs demanded it. Because they screamed copy meand we listened. In the endForgeries (72-84) stands as both a thank you note and a thefta reminder that all music worth a damn is borrowedbrokenand passed on between friends. The selections on Forgeries 72-84 span eras and attitudesunified not by genre but by necessity. Each track is a document of obsessionof influence absorbed and re-expressed without permission.

There comes a point in every bands life when originality stops being a virtue and honesty takes the wheel. On their 11th long-playing record: Forgeries (72-84)-(16)- return to the impulse that first dragged them into loud rooms and bad ideas: the urge to steal what we love and make it semi-unrecognizable through devotion. We have partnered with Heavy Psych Sounds Records to release a collection of covers that function less as homage and more as a possession to be given away. The artworkrendered by the ever-amazing Maraldcompletes the ritualiconicunsettlingand unafraid. Weve always believed that a great cover is not mimicry but revelation. Its finding a song that's already lived inside you since youth and letting it crawl outbruised and changed. From the early 90s onward-(16)- have treated covers as translations rather than as replicasacts of tribute and emulationfiltered through distortionfatigueand lived experience. These are songs that taught us how to standhow to falland how to keep going. In our collective headthis album exists because these songs demanded it. Because they screamed copy meand we listened. In the endForgeries (72-84) stands as both a thank you note and a thefta reminder that all music worth a damn is borrowedbrokenand passed on between friends. The selections on Forgeries 72-84 span eras and attitudesunified not by genre but by necessity. Each track is a document of obsessionof influence absorbed and re-expressed without permission.