Suche:minimal house

Control Freak is delighted to present Medici Daughter's ‘113’ – an exercise in expansive musical worldbuilding from a uniquely talented & multifaceted artist.

Medici Daughter has been a close CF collaborator since the earliest days of the label. Now, the new album-length continuous piece ‘113’ sees them expanding their musical focus, exploding the constraints of any boundaries set by the titular BPM into a myriad of possibilities.

With a sound palette influenced by dub techno, minimalism & outsider house, the release is anchored in a series of continuously evolving rhythmic motifs, washed out in a sea of hazy texture – engineered for deep home listening & late-night ambient-room sessions.

The digital release of ‘113’ is accompanied by a highly limited run of tapes, presented in a clear case & sealed with a holographic RFID sticker.

For Fans Of: Actress, Huerco S., Loraine James

Here’s the first release of the Hungarian Alliwant Wax limited VINYL series including label owner James Cole’s 2 original tracks beside the remix of one of the scene’s most inspiring and respected producers, Diego Krause and another remix from the Israeli Mike Sharon.

Both original tracks bring back the oldschool deep house wrapped in modern sound. The deep sexy groove, the catchy vox and melody work really well on the dance floor.

Diego Krauses remix operates with his characteristic sound, its minimalistic build-up features dynamic grooves. Mike Sharon’s version is more epic and more emotional using the pads of classic deep house - we’ll love it!


Just like before, HOW003 will be released in a restricted, vinyl-exclusive edition.

DaRand Land, who hails from the post industrial confines of Buffalo, NY was one of the leading figures of Deep4Life, a cult label known for submersible oriented, yet dancefloor-friendly productions. With ambient synth-driven tones and heavy funk basslines being at the center of his sound, DaRand Land’s music often evokes an introspective quality, without losing its groove fundamental. DaRand’s works, which span decades on deep house labels such as Downbeat, Confluence and Pulp have been described as “uncompromising” and has afforded him a passionate following of listeners who seek a more emotive, thought-provoking brand of underground music.
Teaming up once again with Scissors and Thread - the perfect fit for his sound - DaRand Land drops an album full of crafty, trippy house for the heads. Wander Being contains 10 tracks on the double vinyl release with a pair of additional tracks for the digital release. The vibe is deep and sleek, with a rough, bumping edge. The title track sets the tone, a smattering of percussion accompanying a thick, round kick drum and Rhodes chords, giving off a classic Detroit feel. Tracks like Turn to The Music ramp up the energy somewhat, but overall the tracks sit in the sweet spot between dancefloor burners and soulful, jazzy, deep cuts. Noticeable is the space given to each element across the tracks - the hi-hats sparkle, the snare snaps, and the basslines roll and rumble. Add to this the magic melodic flourishes provided by the pads and synths, reminiscent of the late Mike Huckaby in places, made this whole album a thoughtful, joyful experience.
„The genesis for the Wander Being LP”, says DaRand “was a desire to return to the essence of some of my original Deep4Life productions. How was this accomplished? Principally, through the exclusive use of hardware components, minimalist arrangement, and a minds-eye approach to source the musical elements. In particular, the single, The Nature of Reality was written to convey a sense of what it feels like to be in a state of suspended animation. There is a natural tension introduced via the organic, swirling pad progression juxtaposed against endless vocal echoes and the low-end groove of the bassline. Thematically, I wanted to carry this forward through the entirety of the album.
balancing subdued keys and strings with ethereal tones and atmospheres

For our second disc of ‘24, ONO returns to the club with ‘Tek Code’, a brilliant EP from exciting up-and-coming Boorloo artist, Beltrac.

Across five tracks, Beltrac serves up his fresh and considered sound. Spanning dubbed-out minimal rollers that hark back to the sleazy, smoke-infused tech-house of the late '90s and early 2000s. Into exhilarating excursions into frenetic drums and deep bass that display Beltrac’s penchant for rhythm construction and sound design. Setting the tone and tempo for Side B of the disc, Echo Response receives the remix treatment from Eora dub king Command D, who mutates the wonky bass chug of the Side A closer into a hazy after hours dub techno strider.

Combining careful attention to detail and excellent technical production with an undeniable sense of groove, Beltrac delivers a club ready EP that tickles our brain while keeping our body moving. Turn it up loud, this one’s for the late night crew.

The third EP by the adventurous and unstoppable Stefan Schwander that you might already know from one of his other disguises such as Harmonious Thelonious, A Rocket In Dub or Antonelli Electr. - just to name a few. All tracks were virtuously and solely jammed out on Elektron's Monomachine once again.

Deep basslines, ravy bleeps, piano chords and synth melodies are awaiting us and let us reminisce of Jamaica, UK and Chicago while stepping and dancing into tomorrow.

The EP starts off gently with 'Title Track'. The first bleeps, chords, an incisive bassline and we're already grooving. Strings are building the framework while some house piano and a ravy melody let us hum along.

'Sublime' speeds things up with its shuffling, minimalistic beat but the dub bassline holds it down and functions as a resting pole to the vibrancies around. A pristine synthline comes in and supports the meandering chords. Dance off.

On the flipside 'Definition Of ...' sums it up what While My Sequencer Gently Bleeps is all about: a deep bass as bedrock, lively percussion, a little melody, tiptoeing chords. Everything sensitively used, telling a story. Listen on repeat.

kaoru inoue is a japanese veteran producer and dj since late 90’s.

he has been releasing from his own label “seeds and ground” and some other labels like
mule musiq,groovement.

the original release of this album was released in 2013 in only japan.

it’s a very own style mix of world music, field recording, ambient and electronic music.

the album is started by minimal gamelan ambient “malam”,the second track “selva” is minimal afro brazilian house which reminds us early luciano or villalobos.

third track “kamui fuchi” is electric jazz fusion house, fourth track “sphere” is like joan bibiloni in late 80’s.

on b side,”etenraku” is avant-garde tribal break beats,”she was in ecstasies”&”escape dub” are typical his style balearic slow house.

the album is closed with beautiful melancholic new age music “healing force”.

this album is a timeless masterpiece for us.

In the world of electronic dance music, Âme stand apart. Since 2003, the duo of Frank Wiedemann and Kristian Beyer have cut a singular path through techno, house, minimal, ambient and more with their anthemic singles and mixes. But 2018 reveals their finest achievement yet, their debut full-length album Dream House. It both sounds unmistakably like Âme and unlike anything you've ever heard from the duo, an evocative home listening journey enacted after 15 years spent crafting dancefloor weapons.

Wajeed's brilliant Dirt Tech Reck brings some Latin flair to this new 12" from Michele Manzo. 'NiNos Del Mar' is bright and sunny and hella lively from the off with opener 'Liquida' layering up warm, soulful chords and percussive drums with an exotic vocal loop. It's a great mix of organic and synthetic sounds and it radiates warmth and energy for any dance floor. 'Quasi' is a house shuffler with more minimal drums but still a sun-kissed sound thanks to the steamy vocals and tropical percussion which flutters over the relentless groove. Summer may be nearly over, but this one keeps the vibes well and truly alive.

*Includes download code

In the performance of this work, "Plan for Sleep" (1986), created simultaneously with “Every Dog Has His Day” (1985), Yamanaka took on the role of sound operation. The performance begins with a minimal piece where the tones of the electronic organ and striking phrases from the piano and saxophone race forward in syncopation. Following this, various sound fragments drift over a deafening industrial beat reminiscent of machine noises. There are also pieces that transform the typing sounds of a typewriter into rhythm, showcasing a range of experiments inspired by the then-novel sampling technology, beautifully intertwining with the physicality of the performance.

Additionally, influenced significantly by film music, Yamanaka incorporates a rich tapestry of colors through melancholic melodies that evoke various scenes, from secular jazz to other influences. This work constructs a uniquely original and sophisticated worldview that stands out even when surveying the canon of avant-garde performance art from around the globe in the postmodern era.

DUMB TYPE is a multimedia performance art group based in Kyoto that was formed in 1984 and continues to be active at the forefront of the art scene. We are excited to announce the simultaneous release of two cassette book works produced by musician Toru Yamanaka and the late Teiji Furuhashi, a central figure of the group, for works from the early DUMB TYPE Theatre era: "Every Dog Has His Day (recorded in 1985)" and "Plan For Sleep (recorded in 1986)," now available for the first time on vinyl.

Since the founding of DUMB TYPE, Yamanaka has primarily been responsible for music production, while the late Furuhashi played a crucial role in translating Yamanaka’s compositions into stage direction. Their collaboration began with previous groups ORG and R-STILL, and was influenced by the NEW WAVE and progressive rock trends they were pursuing at the time, as well as by artists like Laurie Anderson, Meredith Monk, and Robert Wilson, who fused minimal music and avant-garde performance. Moreover, their bold incorporation of cutting-edge sampling and house music during that era laid the foundation for DUMB TYPE's sound, marking an important intersection in the history of minimalism, ambient music and performance art in Japan.

*Includes download code

The two works which comprise this retrospective release project - "Plan for Sleep” (1984) and "Every Dog Has His Day” (1985) - are collaborations between Yamanaka and Furuhashi which were foundational to the music development of Dumb Type's aural legacy and intermedia innovations at large. Their early stage music possessed a unique charm and innovation, serving as an essential element at the core of their art. Through this project, the legacy of these works is to be re-evaluated, and the essence of the music contributing to the evolution of Dumb Type's sound through this day will be introduced to a new generation.

DUMB TYPE is a multimedia performance art group based in Kyoto that was formed in 1984 and continues to be active at the forefront of the art scene. We are excited to announce the simultaneous release of two cassette book works produced by musician Toru Yamanaka and the late Teiji Furuhashi, a central figure of the group, for works from the early DUMB TYPE Theatre era: "Every Dog Has His Day (recorded in 1985)" and "Plan For Sleep (recorded in 1986)," now available for the first time on vinyl.

Since the founding of DUMB TYPE, Yamanaka has primarily been responsible for music production, while the late Furuhashi played a crucial role in translating Yamanaka’s compositions into stage direction. Their collaboration began with previous groups ORG and R-STILL, and was influenced by the NEW WAVE and progressive rock trends they were pursuing at the time, as well as by artists like Laurie Anderson, Meredith Monk, and Robert Wilson, who fused minimal music and avant-garde performance. Moreover, their bold incorporation of cutting-edge sampling and house music during that era laid the foundation for DUMB TYPE's sound, marking an important intersection in the history of minimalism, ambient music and performance art in Japan.

This self-titled LP marks the fifth release of Scottish artist Murray Collier’s Dip Friso project, his longest running alias and the solitary vanguard of his own Real Landscape imprint. Across the six tracks he delivers another collection of warped percussive loops, heavily manipulated guitar work and psychedelic sound experiments that drift between popular music forms ('I’ll Get to Hiding') and whittled down takes on electric blues and shoegaze ('Another Country’). The former features the instantly recognisable croon of Still House Plants vocalist Jess HK embellishing a backdrop of tape loop alchemy, an inspired pairing given the shared history of Glasgow dwelling. ‘Thin Ayrshire’ (written with Hannan Jones) treads a similar path with Collier’s own beyond-unrecognisable voice featuring, broken suddenly by a brief flash of 12th Isle’s Loris S. Sarid & Innis Chonnel’s ‘Spalted Water Portal’ thanks to a recycled tape spool. ‘A Sorry Business’ takes on avant-jazz inspired puddle skronk, a stunted casio bleep propelling forward guitar dirge and cymbal crashes, whilst Australian minimal wave heroes The Systematics are paid homage via a farewell cover of their track ‘Midnight on Balancing Day’ (here ‘Midnight’).

All in, the album sees the project incorporating more instrumentation and a full use of vocalists, leaning less heavily on gauzy sample collage styles and providing a more introspective look at the hazy, dubwise world Collier has been building for the past half a decade.

Spectral Bounce returns with a groovy and moody set of tracks by Uruguayan tastemaker Molen. 'Future is Gone' explores dark yet glistening corners of minimal tech house, blending distorted basslines, resonant synth leads, and muffled vocals to create a cinematic aesthetic.

Spectral Bounce’s third release continues to solidify the label’s sonic identity while opening avenues for artists to present their unique interpretations and perspectives, and Molen delivers on that promise.

Art by Susanne Janssen
Words by Hervé Kacou

Michael Mayer albums don’t come round too often, which is one of many reasons why his fourth collection, The Floor Is Lava, is a genuine event. It’s been eight years since his last one, the collaborative & released on !K7; its predecessors, Mantasy (2012) and Touch (2004), took their sweet time, too. It’s no real surprise, given the many hats Mayer wears – globetrotting DJ, revered remixer, inveterate collaborator, and boss of both Kompakt and Imara – that his solo productions are relatively sparing. But this also speaks to their quality: Mayer’s name on a record sleeve is a sign of quality, of music that’s both looking to the future and calling back to the past, that balances the imperatives of the dancefloor and the loungeroom, that’s as exploratory as it is functional.

On The Floor Is Lava, Mayer seems to be taking the temperature of both the music that surrounds him (past and present), and the ides of the industry he works within. There’s that iconic album title, for a start. “The album’s mindset,” he says, reflecting on those four words together. For Mayer, it’s partly a critique of the way the industry boxes in both producer and listener, focuses them on genre, on market, on the next new thing: “Being a free minded spirit that transcends genres has become an uphill battle.” A battle worth fighting, though, and with The Floor Is Lava, the result is an album that’s varied, quixotic, idiosyncratic, charming, and deeply, addictively listenable.

Throughout, Mayer finds thrills in exploration and juxtaposition, allowing unexpected things to blossom and giving them their life, their platform, throwing the listener exciting curveballs: “It’s a DJ album by a DJ that’s easily bored.” Either easily bored, or endlessly curious, The Floor Is Lava is rich with ideas. It opens with “The Problem”, which looks back to look forward, embracing the rickety way early house productions threw samples together with gleeful abandon. Mayer mentions Pal Joey, and the scene around Rockers Hi-Fi and their Different Drummer imprint, as reference points, and you can hear that freewheeling spirit throughout.

It’s followed by “Vagus”, a slinky, sensual minimal house number that Mayer describes as his “musical catnip”. The flow of these two opening cuts defines the dynamic of The Floor Is Lava, defining the dialectical drive at its core: thesis and antithesis leads to synthesis, but with a welcome prickliness that means you’re always excited, always engaged. It’s also productive in the way it derives energy from rubbing genres and sounds against each other, in unexpected ways, for maximum musical frisson. There’s psychedelic techno on “Feuerstuhl”, more minimal techno with “Ardor” (Mayer mentions ‘Immer 1’ era 90s minimal as inspiration), slippery, Shepard-tone breakbeat through “Sycophant”, a lovely, lush vocal turn on the poppy “The Solution”.

The album closes with the melancholy “Süßer Schlaf”, where Mayer sets a poem by Goethe to one of his most haunted, moving pieces of music yet, in abstract tribute to a lost friend. It’s one of the most affecting moments on The Floor Is Lava. There’s also an update on 2020’s wild Brainwave Technology EP, with the surrealist glitter-stomp of “Brainwave 2.0” (check out those handclaps!),where Mayer’s thinking about the socio-political precipice of the now: “I’m reading with great interest about this whole complex of how humanity is about to cross so many lines and the implications that the resulting financial and educational inequality will bring.”

That’s The Floor Is Lava: then and now, brainwaves and nerve structures, problems and solutions, genres on fire; the real, the unreal, and the surreal. An album for the easily bored and the endlessly curious. Mayer has the last word, telling us all you need to know about the album’s spirit: “Burning for the cause, being zealous, being addicted to the heat of the night, the exuberant powers of music.”

Michael Mayer veröffentlicht nicht oft Alben, was einer von vielen Gründen ist, warum ‘The Floor Is Lava’ ein echtes Ereignis ist. Es sind acht Jahre vergangen seit seinem letzten Werk, dem Kollaborationsalbum &, das auf !K7 erschien; seine Vorgänger, Mantasy (2012) und Touch (2004), ließen ebenfalls auf sich warten. Es überrascht nicht wirklich, da Mayer viele Rollen gleichzeitig erfüllt – weltreisender DJ, vielbeschäftigter Remixer, unermüdlicher Kollaborateur und Chef von sowohl Kompakt als auch Imara – weshalb seine Solo-Produktionen eher sparsam ausfallen. Doch das spricht auch für deren Qualität: Ein Album mit Mayers Namen auf dem Cover steht für Qualität, für Musik, die sowohl in die Zukunft blickt als auch auf die Vergangenheit verweist, die das Gleichgewicht zwischen den Anforderungen des Dancefloors und des Wohnzimmers hält, die genauso erforschend wie funktional ist.

Auf The Floor Is Lava scheint Mayer sowohl die Musik um ihn herum (vergangen und gegenwärtig) als auch die Strömungen der Branche, in der er arbeitet, zu reflektieren. Da wäre zunächst der ikonische Albumtitel. „Die Grundhaltung des Albums“, sagt er, drückt sich in diesen vier Worte aus. Für Mayer ist es teilweise eine Kritik daran, wie die Industrie sowohl Produzenten als auch Hörer in Schubladen steckt, sie auf Genres, auf den Markt und auf das nächste große Ding fokussiert: „Ein freier Geist zu sein, der Genres überschreitet, ist zu einem steinigen Weg geworden.“ Ein Kampf, der sich jedoch lohnt, und mit The Floor Is Lava ist das Ergebnis ein Album, das vielfältig, eigenwillig, charmant und tiefsinnig, aber auch süchtig machend ist.

Im gesamten Album findet Mayer Freude an der Erforschung und Gegenüberstellung von Stilen, lässt unerwartete Dinge erblühen und gibt ihnen Raum, überrascht den Hörer mit spannenden Wendungen: „Es ist ein DJ-Album von einem DJ, der sich schnell langweilt.“ Entweder langweilt er sich schnell oder er ist unendlich neugierig – The Floor Is Lava ist reich an Ideen. Es beginnt mit „The Problem“, das in die Vergangenheit blickt, um nach vorne zu schauen, und die wilde Art, wie frühe House-Produktionen Samples mit fröhlicher Unbekümmertheit zusammenwarfen, aufgreift. Mayer nennt Pal Joey und die Szene um Rockers Hi-Fi und ihr Label Different Drummer als Referenzpunkte, und dieser freie Geist zieht sich durch das gesamte Album.

Es folgt „Vagus“, eine sinnliche Minimal-House-Nummer, die Mayer als seine „musikalische Katzenminze“ beschreibt. Der Fluss dieser beiden Eröffnungstracks definiert die Dynamik von The Floor Is Lava und den dialektischen Antrieb im Kern: These und Antithese führen zu einer Synthese, jedoch mit einer willkommenen Schärfe, die dafür sorgt, dass man immer aufgeregt und engagiert bleibt. Zudem gewinnt das Album Energie, indem es Genres und Klänge auf unerwartete Weise aneinanderreibt, um maximalen musikalischen Nervenkitzel zu erzeugen. Es gibt psychedelischen Techno in „Feuerstuhl“, mehr Minimal Techno mit „Ardor“ (Mayer erwähnt ‘Immer’ Ära Minimal als Bezugspunkt), gleitenden Shepard-Ton-Breakbeat in „Sycophant“ und einen lieblichen, üppigen Vocal-Auftritt im poppigen „The Solution“.

Das Album schließt mit dem melancholischen „Süßer Schlaf“, in dem Mayer ein Gedicht von Goethe vertont und eine seiner bisher eindringlichsten und bewegendsten musikalischen Kompositionen schafft, als abstrakten Tribut an eine verschiedene Freundin. Es ist einer der ergreifendsten Momente auf The Floor Is Lava. Ebenfalls gibt es ein Update der wilden Brainwave Technology-EP von 2020, mit dem surrealistischen Glitzer-Stampfer „Brainwave 2.0“ (hör dir diese Handclaps an!), in dem Mayer über den sozio-politischen Abgrund der Gegenwart nachdenkt: „Ich lese mit großem Interesse über diesen ganzen Komplex, wie die Menschheit dabei ist, so viele Grenzen zu überschreiten und welche Auswirkungen die daraus resultierende finanzielle und bildungstechnische Ungleichheit haben wird.“

Das ist The Floor Is Lava: Damals und heute, Gehirnwellen und Nervengeflechte, Probleme und Lösungen, brennende Genres; das Reale, das Unreale und das Surreale. Ein Album für die schnell Gelangweilten und die unendlich Neugierigen. Mayer hat das letzte Wort und sagt uns alles, was wir über den Geist des Albums wissen müssen: „Brennen für die Sache, leidenschaftlich sein, süchtig nach der Hitze der Nacht, den überschwänglichen Kräften der Musik.“

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

. For Fans Of: The Weather Station, Weyes Blood, Adrianne Lenker, Phoebe Bridgers, Joan Shelley, Lana Del Rey, Cass McCombs, Angel Olsen & Neil Young. Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur’s court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word “Camelot” accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of “utopia.” In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson’s 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python’s 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armoured knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys’s profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy’s White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle’s extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle’s Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one’s own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. “Back in Camelot,” she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, “I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry.” The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping “in the unfinished basement,” an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above “sirens and desert deities.” If she questions her own agency whether she is “wishing stones were standing” or just “pissing in the wind” it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of “multi-felt dimensions” both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of “Camelot,” with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to “Some Friends,” an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises—“bright and beaming verses” versus hot curses which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020’s achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory “Earthsong,” bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to … a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?). Those whom “Trust” accuses of treacherous oaths spit through “gilded and golden tooth” cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in “Louis”: “What’s that dance / and can it be done? What’s that song / and can it be sung?” Answering affirmatively are “Lucky #8,” an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the “tidal pools of pain” and the “theory of collapse,” and “Full Moon in Leo,” which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and “big hair.” But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle’s confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on “Lucky #8,” special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle’s beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia’s FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad “Blowing Kisses” Pallett’s crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX’s The Bear Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: “No words to fumble with / I’m not a beggar to language any longer.” Such rare moments of speechlessness “I’m so fucking honoured,” she bluntly proclaims suggest a state “only a god could come up with.” (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the “charts and diagrams” of “Lucky #8,” a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in “Full Moon in Leo,” the bloody invocations of the organ-stained “Mary Miracle,” and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with “Fractal Canyon”s repeated, exalted insistence that she’s “not alone here.” But where is here? The word “utopia” itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek “eutopia,” or “good-place” the facet most remembered today and “outopia,” or “no-place,” a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary

2024 Repress

Alleviated Records is proud to present the new Mr. Fingers EP. After many years of the moniker being dormant and a long journey trying to get back into a creative mindset, we have a new offering. First up, "Outer Acid" delivers up a Minimal-Space-Acid flavor. Next, "Qwazars" continues the Space motif with a Minimal-Tech touch. "Nodyahed" moves toward a Dark Club Bounce with a dash of Tribal flavor. "Aether" offers up a more late-night Ambient-Space-House flavor. Hope you enjoy these selections at the club and at home for a long time to come. Musically Yours...

Belgian saxophonist, composer, and producer Mattias De Craene (Nordmann, MDCIII) announces a new solo album, ‘A House Where I Dream,’ on VIERNULVIER Records. On his second album, he delivers a highly personal and healing journey, presented as an alternative soundtrack to the 1973 cult film ‘The Holy Mountain.’

The record will be released on October 11 on vinyl LP and through all digital platforms.

"The Holy Mountain" is a surreal Mexican film from 1973 directed, written, and produced by Alejandro Jodorowsky, who also stars in the film. The film holds a prominent place in avant-garde cinema and explores themes such as spirituality, mysticism, and the quest for enlightenment. It is in this vein that ‘A House Where I Dream’ is crafted.

“My mind and soul - and thus my music - come home to this motion picture” - Mattias De Craene

The album will be presented live with the film on October 16 at Videodroom during Film Fest Gent.

ABOUT THE ALBUM
With hypnotic tape loops, grainy textures, and mesmerizing saxophone, Mattias De Craene creates possible worlds that herald a spiritual transformation. From the Scottish Highlands and desolate mountains to the deepest recesses of the soul, this music has the power to create cinematic landscapes that transcend time and space. The sound of these 8 tracks is closely related to the minimalist compositions of Terry Riley, but the work of contemporary artists like KMRU or William Basinski is also drawn from the same material.

Above all, this album is a deeply personal journey and unintentionally serves as a metaphor for De Craene's ascent of his own mountain. For the Videodroom festival by Arts Center VIERNULVIER, the saxophonist began working on a new soundtrack for the film ‘The Holy Mountain’ in 2023, but his body and mind abruptly called him to a halt, forcing him to take a professional break. However, this project never left him, leading to an honest and raw quest to find himself as both a person and an artist, with Jodorowsky as a companion de route and music as an anchor. It initiated a long process of dismantling, searching, healing and back again. The album not only provides a sanctuary for dreaming to all who listen, but for its creator it also serves as both an outcry of despair and a source of comfort during challenging times.

All the tracks on 'A House Where I Dream' share an unfiltered grain of life, as one can almost feel the damp breath of the saxophone blowing.

The album opens with the three-part strong 'Transcention,' where the hypnotic interplay between soprano sax and lo-fi tape loops leads to higher realms of the mind and soul.
Alternating between deep frequencies and farout folk modalities, this mantra-like triptych acquires an alchemical character and ultimately transcends time and space.

In the ethereal 'Away,' one can peer into an abyss of resonance while a saturated tenor sax lends guidance in the spirit of Terry Riley's productions. 'You and Me' also bathes in a similar atmosphere, albeit in the vein of healing 90s ambient as granular sax tones converge with celestial chants. 'Gazing Upwards Towards The Sky,' offers different shades of blue as a slumbering tenor sax is juxtaposed to swift sax patterns. On 'A Stranger That Moved Me,' beauty lands in a soft and subtle manner, while the closing track 'Shepherd's Glow' drifts like a mountain wind flaring up at the darkest hour of the night.

The artwork is created by Gent-based artist Sam Timmerman, who portrays the world of 'A House Where I Dream' with playful repetition and mystique.

The sea has long been central to Japanese culture, symbolizing both sustenance and spiritual depth. Charles A.D.'s Deep Diver draws inspiration from this, channeling the ancient traditions of diving and fishing into his music. Historically, the sea has influenced everything from Shinto rituals to the livelihoods of coastal communities. In Deep Diver, this reverence flows through aquatic soundscapes, where rhythmic waves of 90s house and Detroit techno meet Japanese minimal production techniques, New Age and Pacific Jazz. Like the tides, the album ebbs and flows, creating a serene yet dynamic homage to the timeless connection between Japan and the sea.
The opening track 'Deep Diver' plunges into the depths, its abstract sound design capturing the sensation of deep-sea propulsion. Rhythmic bubbles pulse gently alongside slow-moving chords, creating an otherworldly atmosphere. The textures are lush yet restrained, setting a tranquil stage that pulls the listener into a submerged world. 'Underwater Ruins' builds on this aquatic theme, introducing rhythmic layers and bass-heavy notes reminiscent of mid-90s Japanese ambient techno. The smooth, melodic flow nods to pioneers like Mr.YT and Susumu Yokota, while subtly incorporating the Detroit techno influence through soulful, deep basslines.
The track feels like a fusion of ambient and techno, balancing serene tones with a rolling groove, emblematic of Japanese techno soul. As the album progresses into 'Bubble Ring', it becomes clear that Charles A.D. is a master of minimalism. The production is timeless, leaning
on analog techniques where echo-drenched chords and carefully layered soundscapes take on an addictive, hypnotic quality. The simplicity of the composition is deceptive, as each element carries weight, drawing the listener deeper into the rhythm and space between the notes.
'Merperson' is where organic rhythms truly come into play. Charles A.D. gently evolves the patterns, allowing each percussive hit to flow naturally into the next. Soothing melodies emerge from within the track’s structure, eventually reaching an emotional peak without ever feeling forced. The organic nature of the arrangement creates an effortless progression that feels deeply connected to the natural movement of water.Starting the second half with 'Deep Exploration', the theme of underwater excursions becomes even more pronounced. Light, steady drumming anchors the track, allowing the melodic layers
to develop gradually. It unfolds with a calm, measured pace, before ending softly, almost as if the sounds are drifting off into the oceanic depths. 'Diffuse Reflection' stands out as the most dub house-influenced on the album, with rolling rhythms and hypnotic elements reminiscent of Maurizio's deep, pulsing sound. Yet here, the production feels submerged, with aquatic effects swirling around the rhythmic core, blending dub house with a fluid, oceanic touch. 'Traitors' delves even deeper into dub-inspired territory. Deep, resonant bass hits combine with wooden drums, while static-like sounds evoke the image of a radio tuning through static to find clarity.
Chords shimmer briefly before fading back into the liquid depths, evoking the ebb and flow of the tide. The final track on Deep Diver 'Levitation', is a fitting conclusion, as the rhythms merge and overlap like waves gently lapping the shore. The minimalistic arrangement allows each element to blend effortlessly into the next, creating a sense of unity and closure. The sounds move with the gentle grace of water, ending the album in a way that feels both complete and
open-ended, like the infinite motion of the sea.

Showcase A delivers a refined collection of four stylish tracks, each crafted by a different artist, yet unified by their high-quality production and distinctiveness.

Opening with Fedo's 'Tunisian Rex', it immediately strikes you with a sophisticated fusion of house and techno. The track's smooth, polished sound is anchored by a key bassline, effortlessly guiding the listener through its very enjoyable flow. Following this, Andrey Djackonda & Ovil bring a lively energy with 'Lui Lui'. This song blends upbeat house vibes with playful jazz elements, creating an atmosphere of fun and positive spirit that's impossible to resist. On the second side, Legit Trip's 'Skripi Daddy' introduces a deeper, more minimal groove. The track's busy tech rhythm is skillfully layered with just enough room to then include a melody to elevate it further. Closing the album, Firesc's 'Left Or Right' offers a techy sound infused with eastern samples. The track's bouncy bassline and snapping percussion give it a unique, vibrant character that leaves a lasting impression.