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Meet Dr. Brown, a world-renowned astrophysicist who arrives with a ten-pound bag of gummy bears and a DVD box set of a reality show about competitive dog grooming. Before she loses herself in the flamboyant world of puffed poodles and outrageous hairdos, she organizes the gummies by color...

Judge White, on the other hand, unboxes a newly released LEGO set. But he isn't building a replica of the Supreme Court; he is constructing a bright pink, glitter-covered unicorn palace.

Opera singer Miss Black... growls along at the top of her lungs to Chesney Hawkes' "The One and Only", standing on a chair in a red-and-white striped bikini, using nunchucks as a microphone.

And finally, Mister Red, the MIT professor, known for his ironclad logic and severe demeanor, brings a collection of classic comic books. He isn't interested in modern, gritty superhero stories. His joy comes from the simplistic, colorful tales of superheroes with outlandish names like bqdp and ridiculous powers like the ability to selectively negate gravity for objects weighing exactly 13.37 kilograms (but only when standing in moonlight).

They are all members of a club where the rules are simple: no judgment, no professionalism, and no apologies. They understand that the most infamous guilty pleasures aren't those that are truly bad, but those that remind us that we are all, at our core, just human - finding joy in the simplest, most wonderful things, no matter how silly they may seem.

pdqb and DMX Krew gift you with six minutes of pure, unadulterated pleasure. You'll feel like you're locked inside an 80s mall with your best friend, free to do whatever you want. And you'll never want to leave.

Among the true Keiji Haino devotees, Nijiumu’s Era of Sad Wings (released on P.S.F. in 1993) has always held a special place in the pantheon. Operating for only a few years in the early 90s and apparently only performing a handful of shows, Nijiumu operated at the opposite end of the dynamic spectrum to Haino’s famed power trio Fushitsusha, dwelling in a hushed, meditative realm of mysterious droning sonorities and free-floating melodies that occasionally erupts into violence. Black Truffle is pleased to announce a new double-LP edition of a lesser-known 1994 Nijiumu recording, When I sing, I slip into the microphone. Into that void, I bring comrade “prayers”, then, turning to face the outside, together we explode. Here, Nijiumu is the trio of Haino, Tetuzi Akiyama and the obscure Takashi Matsuoka, the three performing on a wide variety of string, wind and percussion instruments, as well as electric guitar and bass, and Haino’s unmistakeable voice.

Like on the early solo Haino album that shares the group’s name (released on P.S.F. in 1993), the instrumentation swims in reverb (the use of which Akiyama recalls as ‘a kind of point of the band’), often obscuring the instrumental sources. On the short opening piece, a distant reed instrument arcs long buzzing melodies over a bed of cymbals and gongs, like a psychedelic take on Tibetan music. The epic second part, occupying almost 50 minutes, begins as a splayed, near-formless cloud of electric guitar and bass, shadowed by bowed and plucked strings, the three elements working through twisting atonal shapes. At various points in the recording, we hear what seems to be the sounds of musicians moving between instruments, their shuffling and bumps fitting seamlessly into this radically open music. Eventually, what sounds like electric guitar moves closer to the foreground, fixing on a repeated melodic cell around which hover mysterious clouds of long tones and a sporadic shaker. At the half-hour mark, the music begins to build to a violently emotive climax, Haino’s impassioned vocal cries punctuating a lumbering, bass-heavy murk, contrasted at points by what sounds like a tin whistle. Suddenly, the volume drops to a near-whisper, opening the way for the stunning final moments, which touch on the slow-motion balladry of Haino’s classic Affection, here given an eccentric twist by an occasional woodblock hit. The third piece opens with a hazy trio of rumbling bass, bowed strings and abstracted slide guitar, the latter calling to mind some of Akiyama’s later solo work. Eventually joined by Haino’s voice, its fragile, haunted tone might remind the listener of the man in black’s documented love of the madrigals of the murderous Count Gesualdo, before the recording abruptly breaks off mid-note. In this new edition, the Nijiumu trio recording is supplemented by a piece recorded solo by Haino in 1973, a bracing electronic blowout stretching almost half an hour. Using a homemade electronics setup to unleash a barrage of crunching distortion and shuddering harmonic fuzz, it takes its place in the canon of extreme live electronics next to Robert Ashley’s Wolfman and Walter Marchetti’s Osmanthus fragrans, looking forward to extreme noise years before Merzbow. Taken as a whole, these four sides of music are a stunning document of some of the lesser-known waystations of Haino’s singular creative path.

Wrong Filament embodies Robert Piotrowicz's creation of fictional traditional music - not studied but invented, a utopian and oniric construct that becomes tangible in sound. These imagined traditions act as communal forces of music-making, resisting dominant structures of power.

The album unfolds in six dense compositions built on rhythm, repetition and minimal melodic gestures that draw on archetypal patterns of Eastern European traditions. Entirely synthetic yet strikingly instrumental in character, they develop as autonomous sound events, expanding into multi-part forms that evoke the physicality of ensemble performance - as if played by an imagined community of musicians.

Rather than reconstruction, Piotrowicz invents forged dances - a pre-techno of sorts, where complex meters and dense textures point to a parallel history of collective sound beyond industrial uniformity. They imagine a utopian and fictional genealogy of collective sound: one where industrial modernity yields to more unstable, communal energies.

This is celebratory music with invocatory charge: calls to dance, echoes of ceremony, microtonal melodies shaped by emotional weight, and traces of Eastern ornamentation stretched through synthetic means. Wrong Filament sacralises performance through sound alone, spinning a world where spectres of collective experience vibrate against the limits of rupture and resistance.

These pieces confront the traces of violence inscribed in body and memory, yet also affirm freedom, emancipation and integration. They manifest celebration, identity and resistance while opening a path toward liberation and shared needs that exceed social, private and intimate categories.

‘BORN LIKE THIS.’ is MF DOOM’s last solo album. Featuring Ghostface Killah, Raekwon and seminal American poet and writer Charles Bukowski with beats from J Dilla, Madlib and ol’ Metal Fingers himself. “I’ve been a fan of Bukowski for a while. It was a friend of mine – damn, I forget the n*gga name – from Life Sucks Die, it’s a graffiti magazine but it’s real kinda edgy, out of Minneapolis. They did an interview with me and then me and Andrew Broder was friends ever since then. He said, ‘Your shit reminds me of this dude Bukowski, you gotta read his stuff.’ I was a little apprehensive at first, ‘cos I was like, ‘What kinda weird shit is this?’ Then he gave me a book, The Most Beautiful Woman In Town, and after that I just got into it. “So for this album, to celebrate all us writers, emcees, if you look at it, it’s a lot of words that we say, and we all write those words: if it was written down on a piece of paper it could be a short story or like a good book. So I saw where Andrew was coming from where he sees the similarities. In tribute to Bukowski I said let me get him as a guest appear ance…” DOOM as quoted in HHC. “Whatever caused DOOM to scale back his output and go off the grid, he’s only come back from it sharper, stronger, and more powerful than before.” Pitchfork “DOOM still has the sickest vocabulary, broadest frame of reference, and densest, most quotable rhymes in hip-hop… he has created an album of sublimely half-assed super-genius.” Onion AV Club

WVLT is the newest sonic addition from WNDFRM (Portland-based, Tim Westcott), an album of eight distinct explorations exploring the many facets of experimental IDM.

Tim Westcott’s practice is rooted in an acute, nearly forensic attention to sound. Subtle tones, sculpted drones, and lean percussive gestures, always pursued with a patient ear and obsession with sound design. 

With previous releases on Prologue, Home Normal, and Dragon’s Eye Recordings, and several live performances at Mutek, a new album from Tim is a rare yet welcome occurrence. The conceptual approach for WVLT began in 2021, mixing synths with drum machines and granular processing. Lightly arced structures slip between gates of rhythm, shifting pulses, translucent washes, and disquieting residue. There’s a precision to the hesitation and an insistence in the space between notes, a deft balance of raw improvisation and sculpted quietude.

An exercise in immediacy and response, each track builds and unspools, like form in fleeting motion, driven by the moment’s tonal contrasts, micro‑rhythmic interplay, and slight gestures that alter entire planes of listening. It’s minimal without sparsity, intense without density.

The sixth vinyl release from Goodbye Royalty, titled "No Script," is a vivid embodiment of multifaceted creativity. The album is filled with conceptual experiments that reflect the artist's years of experience. The genre palette, ranging from minimalism to Electro-Breaks, will surprise both seasoned diggers and casual audiophiles, offering a unique musical journey. The title track "No Script" is infused with an atmosphere of universality and depth. Acusmouse creates a ritualistic immersion, a whirlwind that draws the listener into the depths of consciousness. The contours of percussive spaces are repeatedly revealed from new angles. Music becomes more than just a collection of sounds; it transforms into a genuine experience that leaves a mark on the soul. "Alfa" by Interpolarm embodies mysterious and simultaneously mystical imagery, where the main strength lies in harmony and balance between rational canvases. The fresh dance form and recognizable sound of the duo provide a better perspective on their evolution from early Minimal Techno with Acid House to romantic Micro House, where the collective liberates itself from heavy energies. On the B side, Information Ghetto takes the lead. Through an equal blend of psychedelia and humor, the artist creates a cohesive concept for fans of broken rhythm based on two tracks. The formula is simple: a mix of trip-hop, electro, and breaks, analog synthesizers, and soft bass that brings dusty mechanisms of the eternal engine to life. The graphic design has been developed by the unique artistic collective Recycle group. Vinyl owners can expect a true surprise-a secret message that can be revealed by focusing a smartphone camera at the main image of the apple. This serves as an additional portal into the world of the future. Just install the Recycle Group APP on your device beforehand.

Black Truffle is pleased to announce Melopea, presenting two new pieces highlighting the incredible voice of Amelia Cuni (1958-2024), the great Italian singer, based in Berlin in later life, whose mastery of the classical Indian dhrupad developed in parallel with a commitment to contemporary experimental approaches. After two stunning archival releases documenting traditional dhrupad performances in India in the 1990s (BT079 and BT092), the two side-long pieces here embody the freedom with which Cuni explored new contexts and settings for her singing.

Both make use of a long recording of Cuni singing the pentatonic Raag Bhoop (or Bhopali) made in 2012 by her partner Werner Durand in Berlin. ‘Melopea’ began from Cuni and Durand’s superimposition of this recording with violinist Silvia Tarozzi and cellist Deborah Walker’s performance of Éliane Radigue’s ‘Occam River II’. Inspired by the beauty of this chance encounter (and other experiments with non-synchronous collaboration during the pandemic years), Tarozzi and Walker recorded independently, without hearing Cuni’s voice but ‘having her present in memory’. Tarozzi and Walker’s bowed strings places Cuni’s magisterial performance in a new context, emphasising, as Radigue commented upon hearing the initial layering of her piece with Cuni’s voice, a shared ‘searching toward the partials, overtones, these natural constituents of acoustical sounds in their richness’. Beginning with whispered bowed harmonics, the violin and cello swap the stability of dhrupad’s traditional tanpura drone for a slowly evolving, uneasy web of harmonic interactions recalling some of Harley Gaber’s work, sometimes sitting on dissonances for long periods or allowing changing interference patterns to come to the fore. Primarily focusing on her lower register, Cuni’s performance demonstrates her mastery of microtonal pitch subtleties, elegant sweeping glissandi and meditatively unhurried pacing.

The continuation of the same recording by Cuni forms the foundation of ‘Bhoop-Murchana’, with Anthea Caddy on cello and Werner Durand on soprano saxophone. In contrast to the randomised layering of the first piece, here Durand and Caddy have carefully selected pitches based on the raag Cuni sings, using the ‘Murchana’ form, which uses the constituent notes of the raag as tonics of new raags, retaining the same interval structure. Both players who have developed tones of striking depth and harmonic purity on their instruments, Caddy and Durand’s patient long tones are simultaneously rigorously grounded in the physical properties of sound and possessed of an immaterial, floating quality. Combined with Cuni’s voice and, near the piece’s end, her contributions on hammered and plucked tanpura, the effect borders on miraculous. To surrender to this music is like slipping into an onsen pool, feeling the instantaneous release of every tension. Accompanied by liner notes from Durand, Tarozzi and Walker, Melopea is both a moving tribute to the profound art of Amelia Cuni and, for the uninitiated, a perfect introduction to it.

Sound Metaphors 23 is back with more output from the pioneering free-party clan & scourge of the establishment, Spiral Tribe - this time with a reissue Stormcore 3 from 1996. This record comes from the mind of 69db aka Sebastian Vaughan, the improvising electronic musician who joined Spiral Tribe after their infamous ’91 New Year's Eve party at the then-abandoned Camden Roundhouse. We have here three powerful cuts of uncompromising hardcore freetekno - coming in north of 180bpm but structured on complex rhythmic patterns so this music is at once punishing yet also meditative, penetrating deep within the micro dimensions of these newly explored sonic paradigms.

Spanish duo JNJS return with a new vinyl on Pirka Records, titled Feeling Positive. Staying true to their micro house roots, the record blends detailed percussion, rolling low-end, and immersive atmospheres across four tracks. On the A-side, the title cut Feeling Positive radiates groove and optimism, while Shuri layers subtle rhythms with playful textures. The B-side shifts into deeper territory, with Start to Feel unfolding through liquid grooves and Jozani closing the release in hypnotic, late-night style. A refined and versatile 12", Feeling Positive captures JNJS’s minimal aesthetic and Pirka’s forward-thinking vision—crafted for selectors, collectors, and micro house enthusiasts alike.

Montreal duo Flabbergast—aka Guillaume Coutu Dumont and Vincent Lemieux—return to Circus Company, the label where it all began with their debut EP in 2015. Now seasoned veterans of leftfield club experimentation, they deliver Weirdo Active, a two-track vinyl release that distills their signature
blend of groove, absurdity, and refined weirdness.
On the A-side, “Timecrowave” is a swung, syncopated burner built around fragmented drum programming, warbled synth textures, and subtly detuned atmospheres. It's a tool that thrives in the inbetween moments of a set—unpredictable yet fluid.
On the B-side “Serpentoute,” a slinky groove laced with dubwise processing and modular squelch, maintaining tension through micro-edits and playful FX. Perfect for after-hours transitions or more openminded floors.
Following standout releases on Yoyaku, Copier/Coller, and Chapelle XVI, Flabbergast continue to offer up dance music that’s deeply heady, subtly unhinged, and always full of intent. A finely sculpted dose of dancefloor surrealism—just the way Flabbergast likes it.

2025 Repress

For the second installment of its renewed imprint, Fuse's own in-house resident and one of Belgium's proudest exports Phara takes the reins for a deep dive into thick percussion and vibrant club landscapes. 'The Wall' puts current dance music under a microscope with a brush of truly vintage spontaneity, merging techno's confrontational nature with house's harmonic genuineness. This duality is reflected through Phara's own relationship with his home base Fuse and the complementary contrast between its two rooms.

The EP's title track serves as a hypnotic introduction for the A1, imposing a bass-heavy rhythm and a persistently oscillating synthline. A dense production full of energy, 'The Wall' inspires intrigue throughout its duration, revealing its true intentions through a capable sound system. Sharing the first side of the press is 'Blaes 208', a name that Fuse club goers will likely recognise, that guides the listener from effect into embrace. With lush keys echoing past a comforting drum sequence fit for a close-eyed dancefloor experience, Phara's impactful tendencies meet his affinity for the melodic through a blissful six minutes of crowd to selector connection. Switching sides, a return to a cold cold aesthetic is quickly apparent through 'Hush Now 206'. A pummeling, saturated bass competes with a kick of equal effect, rolling through a storm of metallic stabs. Mastering the message of urgency, Phara presents a lightshow of resonating percussive work, defining his space just to cut right through it. To close out with a lasting impression, the producer mutes the acoustics of his work through razor-sharp sound design dotting along playful snares, a duality reminiscent of the dynamism of Detroit electro. 'Motion Steps', referring to the stairs that ascend from Fuse's main room to its more left-field counterpart, captures the atmosphere of the almost shimmering music that can be expected to be played there; a place where Phara and many others have been known to explore the extremities of their music. He swiftly throws in melodic elements to recontextualize an otherwise pressing composition, and after three chapters of considerable weight, he concludes his record with infectious groove that flaunts technical ability.

In the final month of 2024, Meitei arrived in Beppu, a city long steeped in vapor, myth, and mineral memory. Invited to create onsen ambient music commemorating Beppu’s 100th anniversary, he immersed himself in the city’s geothermal psychogeography, where sound rises from the ground and time clings to mist.

Known for his Lost Japan (Shitsu-nihon) works, which channel forgotten eras into flickering auditory relics, Meitei took residence in the warehouse of Yamada Bessou, a century-old inn perched by the bay. Over two weeks, he listened intently to steam, to stone, to the atmosphere itself. The resulting work, Sen’nyū, traces the inner spirit of onsen culture. Like water finding its path, the music emerged with quiet inevitability, shaped by Meitei’s synesthetic sensibility and deep attunement to place.

Equipped with a microphone, he wandered Beppu’s sacred sites: Takegawara Onsen, Bouzu Jigoku, Hebin-yu, and the private baths of Yamada Bessou. There, he captured the breath of the springs, bubbling mud, hissing vents, wind against bamboo, and the murmurs of daily visitors. These field recordings became the sonic bedrock of Sen’nyū, an act of deep listening that attempts to render even the rising mist and shifting heat into sound.

Unfolding as a single, continuous piece, Sen’nyū drifts like fog through sulfur and stone. It traverses the veiled madness of Bouzu Jigoku, the spectral resonance of Yamada Bessou’s inner bath, and the hushed voices of Takegawara Onsen. It is a gesture of quiet reverence, for water’s patience, the land’s memory, and the hands that have bathed here for generations.

Where Meitei’s earlier works conveyed his personal impression of a fading Japan, Sen’nyū is grounded in tactile presence, music not imagined but encountered. Here, his practice moves closer to the spirit of kankyō ongaku, environmental music born from place, shaped by it, and inseparable from it.

As part of the project, Meitei conceived a two-day public sound installation inside Takegawara Onsen, culminating in a live performance. Bathers soaked in mineral-rich waters while submerged in sound, an embodied ritual of place, body, and listening.

Sen’nyū marks Meitei’s first full-length work centered entirely on onsen and opens a new chapter of his Lost Japan project under the expanded title 失日本百景 (One Hundred Lost Views of Japan), a series exploring extant sites of longing still quietly breathing within contemporary life. The album will be accompanied by Meitei’s first photo book, a visual document of his time in Beppu. A new layer is added to the world he has, until now, built only through sound.

Sen’nyū continues Meitei’s devotion to Japan as subject, while opening new terrain: both ritual and remembrance, an immersion into the mineral soul of Beppu.

The KNOW was an early 80's electronic duo, comprised of brothers Garry and Neil Todd from Stoneydelph, Tamworth (near Birmingham), UK. After playing in a conventional rock group and having to deal with the issues of too many cooks spoiling the broth, they decided to stay a two piece while the affordability of synthesisers and drum machines came in handy to replace additional human band members – shall we say for the better in the end?!

Regarding the name, Neil says: “Garry and I came up with this name in relation to the saying, oh you know he’s in “The Know” you know.“ The KNOW released only two tracks “Times Change“ and “Knights of Pleasure“ on a 7“ single in 1982, which is ultra rare now (only being sold once on Discogs for almost €300). Neil used Korg Micro Preset M-500, Moog Liberation, Roland Jupiter-8 synthesisers, and a Roland CR-8000 drum machine to create these two minimal synth pop anthems.

The original masters have been lost over the years, but the recordings have been carefully digitized from vinyl and meticulously restored and remastered and sound better than ever before. Additionally, five cover versions have been added by no less than minimal electronic synth pop heroes BLIPBLOP, doing both tracks, the THE SILICON SCIENTIST adding his dreamy synth pop melancholia signature sound, FLASHBACKS (aka Echo West, Silent Signals) with his icy cold yet playful minimal electronics, and TWINS NATALIA featuring KRIISTAL ANN delivering a rather faithful to the original yet up-to-date version while adding lots of new bits like a choir, vocoder, and one of Dave Hewson's unique synth solos.

All of this is pure and classy 80s electronic synth pop bliss!

Hypnotic minimal grooves and leftfield rhythms with a sharp sense of detail. Kholida delivers the second release on the newly launched Taka Taka label with the Suli Da Skheuli EP - a sleek fusion of micro house, tech house, and broken beats. Trippy textures, subtle swing, and groove-driven experimentation define this standout 4-tracker. A strong follow-up for the label, pushing its identity deeper into the underground and spotlighting an artist with a clear sonic vision.

Breidenbach returns with its third vinyl release, a four-track V.A. titled Nothing Can Go Wrong — a confident outing from the Heidelberg-based imprint, built around minimal house aesthetics, dub accents, and deeply hypnotic cuts. Uniting artists from Japan, Germany, and Sweden, the EP brings together three distinct voices aligned by a shared sense of groove, texture, and restraint.

On the A-side, Sasaki Hiroaki opens with "Groove Keep Practice", a warm, rolling Deep House track laced with sensual female vocal snippets and dubby pads. Subtle delays, spaced-out beats, and a fluid rhythm create the perfect recipe for dancefloor hypnosis. FilOu follows with two cuts: "Stampede" on A2 is crisp and crunchy, driven by a syncopated, funk-leaning bassline and surrounded by micro-glitches, sampled stabs, and airy textures that keep things moving. On the flip, "Astral" expands the palette with similar percussive tightness, but the basslines hit deeper, growling through the arrangement with attitude — hypnotic, consistent, and built for long blends. Chris Llopis closes the V.A. with "Aetherial Haze", a bright and melodic entry full of FM-style synths, scattered vocal snippets, and dubby echoes. It’s the most playful moment of the EP, but still rooted in the heady minimalism that runs through the entire release.

With Nothing Can Go Wrong, Breidenbach continues to define its space — thoughtful, functional records built for DJs who know that less is often more.

raum…musik welcomes Italian producer Santos for his debut on the label with Human Factor EP — a versatile four-tracker blending tech house, deep house, minimal, and acid, crafted with the finesse of someone two decades deep in the game.

The EP opens with “Some We Are,” a deep acid house track driven by a steady groove, bubbling 303s, and teasing vocal snippets. Atmospheric pads and warm chords emerge as the track evolves, balancing dancefloor function with rich detail.
“Paragonal” shifts gears with sampled breaks and emotional synth stabs layered over a 4x4 pulse. Hazy vocals and spacey effects give it a bright, euphoric edge while keeping it floor-ready.

On the B-side, “Done Everyday” leans into swing-heavy deep house territory. Shuffled hats, micro-programmed percussion, and a solid sub-bass glue everything together — minimal house with punch and precision.
“Kink In Me” closes the record with a more experimental mood. Sparse and hypnotic at first, it patiently unfolds into a deep, quirky, and rhythmically rich groover of jazzy chords and dubby textures.

With Human Factor EP, Santos delivers a polished and dynamic record that speaks to seasoned diggers and fast-moving dance floors alike. raum…musik continues its tradition of top-shelf, club-focused curation with this timeless release.

DJ Support: Midland, Craig Richards, Vladimir Ivkovic, Benji B, Emerald, Cici, Darwin, Jossy Mitsu, I JORDAN, Daria Kolosova, Alienata, Carl Craig, Paula Tape, OK Williams, Hammer, Kassian

Kilig Unveils New Era with Air In The Dark / Back To Sofa Surfing

Elusive leftfield electronica producer Kilig emerges from the shadows to unveil a new era on Cross Country with Air In The Dark and Back To Sofa Surfing—two tracks that signal a matured, exploratory sound, balancing introspective ambience with subtle rhythmic propulsion.

In a celebration of London’s enduring spirit of community, experimentation, and unity - fabric resident Bobby. and FOLD’s own Voicedrone join forces to rework Air In The Dark. Bobby. crafts an epic, psilocybin-inspired reinterpretation; Voicedrone - a hard-hitting high BPM electro reinterpretation; and cult favourite RAMZi offering a warm, deep ambient cut.

Back To Sofa Surfing receives its own forward-facing treatment from Manami and Dufraine — two voices at the cutting edge of London’s bass and electro underground. Hailing from a shared studio space , the remixes are infused with raw dub, bass, acid, and electro infused energy.

Lucy Duncombe and Feronia Wennborg compose a modern symphony for virtual choir on 'Joy, Oh I Missed You', muddling sound poetry with Nuno Canavarro and ‘Systemische'-style machine-damaged surrealism. Like a mashup of Lee Gamble's 'Models', Akira Rabelais' 'Spellewauerynsherde' and Robert Ashley's timeless 'Automatic Writing’ screwed to perfection.

Duncombe and Wennborg have been chewing over ‘Joy, Oh I Missed You’ for four long years, working their process until they were "queasily intimate" with their arsenal of artificial voice tools. Tracing the history of the technology, from voice synthesisers and chatbots to AI voice analysis tools, the duo experiment relentlessly to develop a digital-age response to IRL extended vocal technique - think François Dufrêne, Yoko Ono or Phew. Less interested in replicating human sounds exactly, they instead test how various tools might cough up their own idiosyncratic tics as they stretch and stutter through attempts to mimic their "fleshware" counterparts.

Duncombe's got prior form here, most recently re-synthesising her voice on the brilliantly oily 'Sunset, She Exclaims' 45 for Modern Love, following a stunner for 12th Isle in 2021. Wennborg brings along experience from her tenure as one half of microsound duo soft tissue, whose 2022 LP 'hi leaves' (Students of Decay) was a haptic treasure. These approaches mesh remarkably well on their first collaborative full-length, with Duncombe's eerie bio-electronic incantations providing the ideal foil for Wennborg's carbonated hardware processes. It's not completely clear where the human voice ends and the zeroes and ones begin on 'Your Lips, Covering Your Teeth', as rolling cyborg syllables tumble over OS-startup womps and surprisingly svelte outcroppings of glassy, synthetic glitches. The music is surprisingly mannered, a sonic reflection of the cover, where a mouth is pixellated until only colour swatches remain. Duncombe and Wennborg trace the gradual erosion of their voices, leaning into the chaos as their various tools veer off into unique patterns of failure.

What sounds like a far-off, ghosted folk rendition (we're reminded of the Icelandic laments that Rabelais chewed up on 'Spellewauerynsherde') is offset by gnarled, bitcrushed machine faults and pneumatic lip smacks on the brilliant 'Residue', and on 'Brushed My Hair', the duo massage the voice until it sounds like a flute. Assembling stutters and barks and sighs into a celestial chorus alongside time-stretched moans, they create a levitational atmosphere on 'Smell It', freezing the energy from bizarre pitch steps to configure a zonked vocal ensemble.

'Joy, Oh I Missed You’ is an album that, like its source material, constantly morphs, testing the boundaries of its concept repeatedly without bubbling over into conceptual goo. In fact, it's remarkably euphonious, even at its most theoretically abrasive; Duncombe and Wennborg wring out uniquely angelic formations through a process of trial and error that packs a surprising, hefty emotional punch.

Back in 1999, nestled in a cramped box room in his parents’ house in Cambridge, George Aretakis, one half of the newly-formed “I Like It” label (ili records) was on a sonic mission. Fresh from releasing their debut 12" All Alone by Hal, he dove headfirst into the world of self-engineering — no acoustic treatment, a sketchy Yamaha sound card, and a PC with a mind of its own.

What came out of that chaos is a collection of raw, imaginative tracks that blend hardware glitches with human quirks. Computer Rage was born from a technical meltdown — literal computer voices, warped vocals, coughing, and all. Its sibling, the Silicon Circus Mix, takes that same glitchy DNA and pushes it even further into bizarro territory.

Then there's Space You Know — a groovy slow-burner driven by a sticky bassline and the haunting vocal of Katie Jeans (courtesy of friends at Tummy Touch), chopped and recontextualized into something beautifully strange.

Rounding it out is Environ Mental, a moment of playful spontaneity made in a single night. Early morning birdsong, passing cars, and absurd vocalizations collide in a whimsical microcosm of lo-fi joy.

This release is a love letter to the unfiltered creativity of early bedroom production — messy, noisy, and bursting with heart. A must-have artifact for fans of DIY electronica and late '90s experimental house.

For the first time on vinyl a collection of tracks by Cortex, Alain Neffe (Bene Gesserit,Insane Music) experimental spoken-word project originally released on tape in 1984.

Cortex was never intended to be a conventional musical project.
From the very beginning it was centered around free live performances. These encounters were stripped down and highly visual: Alain Neffe constructed a trapezoidal fluorescent white screen lit by black light.

The narrator—la récitante—was only illuminated in the face, while the rest of the stage remained in complete darkness.
This created a ghostly effect where the audience could see only her glowing face and dark silhouette. She was a beautiful young woman, with a striking presence, and beside her, Alain Neffe played synthesizer and created sonic effects.
The aim of Cortex was to deliver a minimalist and emotional experience, one centered on text and the voice of the narrator.

Most of the tracks that exist today were recorded informally during rehearsals, using two microphones placed in front of Marshall amps, captured directly to cassette.
La récitante could choose a text from a collection of hundreds. Then, the music was improvised in real time around her voice. That process, simple, direct, and instinctive produced a body of work that’s rough around the edges, but full of presence. It’s not polished, but that’s the point.

Cortex was focused entirely on the connection between voice and sound.

Limited to 300 copies