Search:mirror

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

During the pandemic, The Ophelias transformed uncertainty into Spring Grove, their fourth album and most dynamic offering yet. Named after a Cincinnati cemetery, the album blends nostalgia with fresh perspective, reflecting on themes of relationships, identity, and power dynamics. Singer-songwriter Spencer Peppet draws from her OCD diagnosis during the pandemic and the clarity that comes with growing older, resulting in lyrics that explore the cracks and complexities of human connection.

Produced by Julien Baker, who adds lush textures and harmonies, Spring Grove marks a turning point in the band’s evolution. Recorded at Young Avenue Sound in Memphis, the album centers on the core quartet—Peppet, violinist Andrea Gutmann Fuentes, bassist Jo Shaffer, and drummer Mic Adams—with arrangements that balance cinematic intensity and delicacy. Gutmann Fuentes’s violin provides striking countermelodies, while Shaffer’s bass lines, inspired by doom metal, explore melodic depth. Adams’s drumming reflects his first project after transitioning, offering nuanced rhythms that blend power and tenderness.

With one queer and two trans members, the band has moved beyond the reductive label of an “all-girl” group, delving deeply into themes of womanhood and identity. Tracks like “Salome” and “Parade” examine power dynamics and friendship, while nature imagery in songs like “Cumulonimbus” and “Vulture Tree” mirrors lived experience. Across 13 tracks, the album’s cinematic and introspective journey scavenges the past for meaning, ultimately embracing transformation. On the closing track, “Shapes,” Peppet reaches serene acceptance, singing, “I see what’s coming after... a reflection in the water. I am rippling forever.”

Spring Grove captures the band’s evolution, offering a transcendent meditation on self-awareness, identity, and growth, leaving listeners with a sense of profound discovery.

Mit "Glory" veröffentlicht Mike Hadreas aka Perfume Genius sein siebtes Studioalbum. Zusammen mit seinem Partner Alan Wyffels und Produzent Blake Mills ist eine Platte entstanden, die nach außen hin strahlt, in seinen makabren Bildern und seinem aufgewühlten Innern aber das Tor in eine Welt von Entfremdung, Sehnsucht und Verlangen aufmacht. Es ist der Konflikt zwischen dem Außen und dem Innen, der Hadreas beschäftigt, der Widerspruch zwischen einem künstlerischen Leben in der Öffentlichkeit und dem Wunsch nach Isolation. In seinen Charakterskizzen betrachtet der US-Künstler mit der Sorgfalt eines Schriftstellers Szenen von Freundschaft, Verlangen und Intimität durch eine queere Prima, während er sich musikalisch geöffnet und in seinem Songwriting-Prozess mehr Raum für Gruppendynamik gelassen hat: "Es ist auf eine Weise kollaborativ, die es besser macht", so Hadreas, "aber auch beängstigender - es fühlt sich verletzlicher an". Dass Glory dennoch ein zutiefst persönliches Album geworden ist, liegt auch daran, dass Hadreas seine eigenen Ängste vor dem Hintergrund der Entwicklung einer den Zeitgeist durchdringenden, allgemeinen Paranoia reflektiert. Mit seinen fein gesponnenen Tracks wirkt "Glory" beizeiten wie eine Kollektion neuer Standards für queere Romantiker und alte Seelen im Tumult der Gegenwart.

After a 30-year interstellar silence, the enigmatic producer Alien Signal—pioneering alias of Italian electronic composer Alex Silvi—reemerges with Whispers from Distant Suns, a transcendent odyssey that bridges retro-futurism and modern electronica. Hailed as a magnum opus, this album transcends genre boundaries, captivating ambient purists, downtempo aficionados, and even experimental listeners with its hypnotic fusion of analog warmth and digital precision.

Cosmic Tapestry of Sound
Drawing comparisons to Vangelis’ Antarctica and Alpha—but reimagined through a 21stcentury lens—Whispers from Distant Suns marries nostalgic synth textures with cuttingedge production. Silvi’s mastery of melody shines through in tracks like “Stardust
Memories” and “Fragile Eden” where shimmering arpeggios and celestial pads drift over robotic, glitch-infused drum patterns and sparse, meditative percussion. The result is a paradox: a retro-futuristic soundscape that feels simultaneously ancient and alien, familiar yet unexplored.

Listener Testimonials
Fans and critics have flooded forums with praise:

“An auditory revelation! It’s like Vangelis met Jon Hopkins in a nebula—vintage soul with a futuristic heartbeat.”
“The textures are gorgeously cinematic. Closing your eyes, you’re adrift in a Tarkovsky film scored for the Andromeda galaxy.”

The Vinyl Experience
Pressed on heavyweight vinyl, the album’s physical release amplifies its immersive qualities. The gatefold sleeve, adorned with surrealist astrophotography and metallic
foiling, mirrors the music’s cosmic ethos. Side A leans into Balearic serenity, with sundappled grooves and aquatic synth ripples, while Side B delves into darker, more
experimental terrain—think Aphex Twin’s Selected Ambient Works colliding with the organic rhythms of Jon Hopkins.

Maturity in Motion
This album is a testament to Silvi’s evolution. Tracks like “Seeds Of Light” and “Message from Andromeda Galaxy” showcase his refined ear for dynamics, balancing silence and sound with surgical precision. Vintage drum machines spar with glitches, while field recordings of crashing waves and interstellar static blur the line between Earth and cosmos. The closing track, “The Star Charts We Shared” crescendos into a 6-minute ambient requiem, leaving listeners suspended in a state of weightless awe.

Final Transmission
Whispers from Distant Suns is more than an album—it’s a transcendent odyssey. Spanning time, space, and the artist’s own creative evolution, this immersive work invites listeners to lose themselves in its ebb and flow. Designed for moments both intimate and expansive, its balearic-tinged atmospheres resonate equally through dawnlit Mediterranean terraces or the solitary glow of headphones in darkness. These are compositions that pulse, morph, and haunt the air long after the final note fades. A living soundscape meant to accompany life’s quiet revelations and clandestine joys—a soundtrack to your most personal moments, crafted as what the artist calls ‘private dance music.’

Tailored for the Discerning Listener
Whispers from Distant Suns is designed with the true connoisseur in mind. This album is a must-have for:

Vinyl Collectors & Audiophiles: Those who value the warmth and tactile experience of heavyweight, limited edition pressings
Electronic Ambient and Downtempo Fans: Listeners who appreciate immersive soundscapes that merge retro analog charm with modern digital innovation.
Retro-Futurism Enthusiasts: Fans of pioneering artists like Vangelis, Boards of Canada, and early Warp Records who seek music that bridges nostalgic synth textures with futuristic experimentation.
Experimental Music Explorers: Individuals drawn to sonic narratives that invite deep, contemplative listening—perfect for both introspective moments and immersive listening sessions.
This release is not just an album; it’s a curated experience for those who desire music as a multidimensional art form, merging the vintage allure of analog sound with a contemporary, cosmic vision.

For fans of: Vangelis, Biosphere, Jon Hopkins, early Warp Records.

If every significant artist has an underrated gem in its catalog, then Mirage is that album for Fleetwood Mac. An obvious return to relative simplicity after the dramatic tension of Rumours and experimental ambitions of Tusk, the 1982 album finds the band re-grouping after a brief hiatus and again climbing to the top of the charts. Extremely well-crafted, well-produced, and well-performed, the double-platinum effort distills the group’s hallmark strengths into a filler-free set that never runs short of addictive pop hooks or daft accents.

Sourced from the original analog master tapes, pressed at Fidelity Record Pressing in California, and housed in a Stoughton jacket, Mobile Fidelity’s numbered-edition 180g 45RPM 2LP set presents Mirage in reference sound for the first time. The efforts co-producers/engineers Ken Caillat and Richard Dashut went to capture the splintered albeit formidable band can be heard with stunning accuracy, range, depth, and detail.

Though Rumours understandably gets a permanent spot in the audiophile hall of fame, the smooth, clear, and dynamic sonics on Mirage confirm that the record that stood as Fleetwood Mac’s last effort for five years deserves a place in the same vaunted arena. The presence and imaging of Mick Fleetwood’s percussion alone on this reissue might have you wondering how this slice of soft-rock bliss has gone under-noticed for decades. Other prized aural aspects — separation, definition, impact, tonal balance — are also here in spades.

Like much surrounding Fleetwood Mac in the 1980s, arriving at Mirage was not easy. Caillat searched for studios located outside of Los Angeles on a mission to change up the vibe of the band’s prior recording sessions. Everyone settled on Le Chateau in France, where relations between some members remained icy — and cooperation with the producers strained. Battles with exhaustion, bitterness, and addiction further informed the proceedings at the 18th century complex in the French countryside, where even communal meals were allegedly eaten in silence.

Inevitably, the feelings that co-producer Lindsey Buckingham, Stevie Nicks, Christine McVie, and company harbored — as well as the situations in which they found themselves — drifted into the songwriting. In its rapid ascent to rock-star royalty status, Fleetwood Mac drifted apart, embarked on solo pursuits, and found it was lonely at the top. Emptiness, the illusion of dreams, the longing for love, the want to escape to bygone times of innocence and happiness: Such themes inform a majority of the narratives. Even if the lyrics regularly take a back seat to easygoing arrangements that allow Mirage to come on like a refreshing breeze on a sunny summer afternoon.

Home to three Top 25 singles in the U.S. and having occupied the pole position of the Top 200 album charts for five weeks, Mirage rightfully resonated with the mainstream and attracted listeners on both sides of the pond. And how, via a smart blend of sugary melodies, warm harmonies, interlaced notes, nimble rhythms, taut structures, and passionate vocals. Not to mention the presence of what arguably remains Nicks’ signature song, the biographical “Gypsy,” a meditation on the loss of her close friend Robin Anderson that teems with majesty, mystery, and mysticism — and which gets an assist from Buckingham’s shaded tack piano and richly strummed guitar chords.

Its ranking as an all-time classic aside, that No. 12 hit has plenty of company when it comes to brilliant pop turns on Mirage. On the subject of Nicks, the raspy singer gets a little bit country on “That’s Alright.” Its clip-clopping pace and two-stepping progression complement subtle vocal swells that emerge during the final verse of a tune that is ostensibly about leaving but still conveys forgiveness and grace. And what would a Fleetwood Mac record be without Nicks drawing on the tools of the supernatural — cards, dreams, wolves, and the like — on the twirling “Straight Back.”

Despite the potency of Nicks’ primary contributions, Mirage seemingly unfolds as a tight competition between Buckingham and McVie — and one that ultimately ends in a draw. Buckingham’s salvos include the contagious “Can’t Go Back,” a yearning to time-travel back to the past that’s complete with hall-of-mirrors backing vocals; “Oh Diane,” out-of- left-field ear candy sweetened with hiccupped vocals and salt-and-pepper-shaken grooves; the chiming “Eyes of the World”; and “Empire State,” a delightfully fluttering track whose high-range vocals, lap harp notes, and ringing xylophones hint at the galaxies of sound that would erupt on Tango in the Night.

Then there’s McVie. As elegant, understated, and coolheaded as she’s ever been on record, she pours her heart out on cuts that revolve around her inevitable split with Beach Boy Dennis Wilson. In the process, she punctuates Mirage with a characteristic not always associated with catchy pop music: emotional weight, and the sense of dreaded acceptance in the face of dreams deferred.

“I wish you were here/Holding me tight,” McVie sings over a delicate melody on the album-closing piano ballad “Wish You Were Here.” Though they hoped otherwise, for the members Fleetwood Mac, distance and separation were always close at hand. Believing otherwise, inviting nostalgia, and pretending everything was fine only amounts to a mirage.

The Crystal Hum is the debut vinyl release by Taiwan-based artist Yuching Huang and her first release for Night School.
A beguiling dreamscape of crackles, spluttering, love-struck Casios presided over by the the spectral vocal and guitar work of Huang, Yuching sings love songs at the end of this world and the beginning of the next. Recorded during a hiatus from her group Aemong (a duo with artist Henrique Uba) in Berlin, these songs elevate Huang’s unique vocal style and grasp of atmospherics. The Crystal Hum deconstructs balladry, Garage, guitar music and reforms it into a
unified ghostly otherworld version of these languages.

The Crystal Hum thrums with buried desire, trails of nocturnal reverb seeping out of apartment windows, diaristic vocal performances and deeply emotive, evocative Western-style strings. Formulated by Yuching Huang after periods of frustration and experimentation, the album is an exercise in minimalism and paring back, with some tracks like JohnJohn featuring little else than an elastic bass, spring reverb trails, an interjecting vocal and swelling, dislocated synths. The effect is spellbinding, the soundtrack to getting lost in the labyrinthine, closed streets of Venice, Taipei, Hong Kong, or mirror versions of them in the imagination.

On opener Fly! Little Black Thing, a subterranean funk bassline roots Huang’s singing, a rudimentary, unreliable beat floundering in whimsy underneath. Demure, dream Dance music, Huang references classic lo fi experimenters Suicide and Arthur Russell as well as Night School label mates The Space Lady and Ela Orleans. In fact, after the release of Aemong’s third album Crimson, Huang credits the direction of The Crystal Hum to being enchanted by The Space Lady’s Greatest Hits,
the landmark lo-fi recording made by Susan Dietrich Schneider in 1990. The new, minimalist approach to her sound world reveals and shrouds in equal measure. On the heart-melter Love, a sultry mid-tempo Casio + bass backing drops into the ether with Huang’s vocal swimming in preternatural void before emerging anew, in awe at the world. Every chord change heralds new perspectives, every guitar flurry swells and drips emotion, nothing is wasted and space billows out from between the grooves.
Huang never reveals more than necessary, making this an in-between love album: the right amount of mystery and darkened mirror shines wanely on The Crystal Hum while remaining fragile and vulnerable in the sweet spots. Turning over in pillowing smoke and night in the dark corners, Huang sings in both Mandarin and English. The songs speak of earthly matters seemingly at the edge of dissipating into nothing. Distorted, beguiling Sambas warble like sweating dancehalls in an imagined Lynchian 60s, as on Thoughts. Closer You, An Illusion warps a classic 60s Girlgroup bassline beloved of the likes of Les Rallizes

Denudes into a slight ballad on the edge of the void, held back by the teary-eyed, wistful and enveloping vocal cooed by Huang. Each song feels like a love song dedicated to the bits between worlds, between beats, the negative space between people where desires, feelings and loss hangs in the air, resolute and unresolved.

On Chrystia Cabral's fourth album as SPELLLING, the Bay Area artist transforms her acclaimed avant-pop project into a mirror. Cabral's lyrics for Portrait of My Heart tackle love, intimacy, anxiety, and alienation, trading the allegorical approach of much of her previous work for something pointed into her human heart. The album's thematic forthrightness is echoed in its arrangements, making it the sharpest, most direct SPELLLING album to date. From the dark minimalism of her earliest music to the lavishly orchestrated prog-pop of 2021's The Turning Wheel to this newly energetic expression of her creative spirit, Cabral has proved again and again that SPELLLING can be whatever she needs it to be. The title track, with its propulsive drum groove and anthemic chorus of "I don't belong here," is the most potent embodiment of the album's turn toward emotional directness. Once the main melody emerged, Cabral used the song as a tool to process her anxiety as a performer and opted for a tighter, more rock-oriented composition. This transformation mirrors the album's broader shift toward energy and immediacy, driven by the core band of Wyatt Overson (guitar), Patrick Shelley (drums), and Giulio Xavier Cetto (bass), whose collaboration uncovers new contours of the SPELLLING sound. Cabral still writes and demos in isolation, but presenting the songs for Portrait of My Heart to her bandmates helped her discover their eventual lively, organic forms. So did working with a trio of producers_The Turning Wheel mixing engineer Drew Vandenberg, SZA collaborator Rob Bisel, and Yves Tumor producer Psymun. Key guest contributions further shape the album. Chaz Bear (Toro y Moi) delivers SPELLLING's first duet on "Mount Analogue," Turnstile guitarist Pat McCrory turns Cabral's original piano demo for "Alibi" into the crunchy, riff-y version that appears on the record, while Zulu's Braxton Marcellous gives "Drain" its sludgy heft. These parts aren't just incorporated seamlessly into the album; they feel like an integral part of its universe. Ultimately, though, Portrait of My Heart is nobody's record but Cabral's. She fearlessly draws the curtain back on parts of herself that she's never included in SPELLLING before_her feelings of being an outsider, her overly guarded nature, the way she can throw herself recklessly into intimate relationships and then cool on them just as quickly. "It's very much an open diary of all those sensations," she says.

"Irma Thomas, born Irma Lee and widely celebrated as the Soul Queen of New Orleans, is a Grammy-nominated artist who recorded her first single in 1959. Her second solo album, released in 1966, features the song ""Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand),"" co-written by Randy Newman and country music star Jeannie Seely. The single peaked at #52 at the Billboard Top 100 chart and this iconic track has been featured in multiple episodes of the acclaimed science fiction television series Black Mirror. "

"“We can still hold the line of beauty, form, and beat. No small accomplishment in a world as challenging as this one... hard times require furious dancing. Each of us is proof” Alice Walker, Hard Times Require Furious Dancing

Snapped Ankles have given up trying to make sense of it all. The forest only offers so much protection. Feeding on a diet of fractured narratives, meme culture, viral moments and the very worst of human impulses weighs heavy. The woodwose hold up a mirror to the absurdity of modern life once again. The only sane response is to dance. Make your way to the clearing, gather around the megalith of speakers, drum machines, amps and synthesisers and dance like there’s no tomorrow.

Hard Times Furious Dancing is an invitation to all those lost in the unrelenting noise of the present, to leave it all behind and come together in the forest. Driven by the primitive thrust of their single-oscillator ‘log’ synths, high and low culture collide in a surreal, free flowing narrative - but the rhythm is universal. This is easily the closest Snapped Ankles have come to capturing their rapturous live energy in the studio.

The sound of Hard Times Furious Dancing evolved at Snapped Ankles’ South London ‘Forest Rayve’ club nights in 2024 in response to that age-old primal urge to bring people together and make them move. It’s the first time the woodwose have road tested new material to this extent before committing it to tape since debut album Come Play The Trees, and in doing so have harnessed that feral energy once again. This surreal human/woodwose connection is the very best release from an algorithm that knows you better than you know yourself. Dance it all loose."

Written and recorded in singer-poet Karsyn Henderson, guitarist-banjoist Paul Lecours and percussionist Ryley Klima’s basement alongside bassist Chris Clegg, then mixed and mastered by longtime collaborator Noah Baxter, this self-produced introductory effort from the Montréal four-piece stylishly amalgamates elements from hardcore, punk, shoegaze, sludge, and folk.

Violence is a brazenly poetic homage to small town roots, a mashing of modern Western Canadian hardcore and folk. Extensive in scope, this debut full-length by Truck Violence takes the listener through wide-ranging dynamics, from solemn acoustic ballads to wrathful electric anthems. Deftly fractured rhythms and breakdowns, complex harmonic entanglements, emphatic screams of discontent, are met with hopeful, melodic tracks musing about the steady grip of a tight-knit community.

From somber, deceivingly happy banjo sequences to crashing noise and cries, Violence uses expression as a mirror, looking upon oneself with clarity, aiming to attain a sense of unadulterated truth of the matter. There is little modern music taking an honest look at the Western Canadian countryside, tackling themes such as addiction, abuse and dysfunction.

Truck Violence’s first album does just that, uniquely capturing this involuted setting through a wide lens to both contextualize and emphasize what it means to be overwhelmed, to feel shame, to struggle with self-destructive ways, to thrust oneself into art as an escape.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Playing with a Different Sex was the debut album by seminal post-punk band Au Pairs, released in 1981.

Described retrospectively by AllMusic as ‘one of the great post-punk records’, a review by Record Mirror on its release said the band’s ‘critique of all forms of possession and sexual stereotyping assumes a devastating power’. Themes include sexual politics and the torture of women imprisoned in Northern Ireland during The Troubles of the 1970s, as well as a stunning cover of David Bowie’s ‘Repetition’ about domestic violence. It peaked at No. 33 in the UK, and features the single ‘It's Obvious’, which reached No. 37 on the US Club Play Singles chart. Playing with a Different Sex is available as a numbered limited edition of 750 copies on turquoise coloured vinyl and contains an insert.

“A tribute to his mercurial, mischievous spirit and pioneering sonic approach” - Uncut 8/10



“Beautifully revisiting 70s styles, each track rides the kind of killer dub basslines Youth started brandishing with Killing Joke 45 years ago when he and Jah Wobble were the UK's heaviest four-string behemoths, cutting their teeth on the subsonic thunder unleashed by Perry on the earliest dub albums” - Record Collector 5/5



“The late dub king's work with Killing Joke bassist Youth has A-team back-up. Sublime” - Daily Mirror



“Heady flashbacks to the mid-70s Black Ark sound” - Mojo/Top 50 albums of 2024

“A tribute to his mercurial, mischievous spirit and pioneering sonic approach” - Uncut 8/10



“Beautifully revisiting 70s styles, each track rides the kind of killer dub basslines Youth started brandishing with Killing Joke 45 years ago when he and Jah Wobble were the UK's heaviest four-string behemoths, cutting their teeth on the subsonic thunder unleashed by Perry on the earliest dub albums” - Record Collector 5/5



“The late dub king's work with Killing Joke bassist Youth has A-team back-up. Sublime” - Daily Mirror



“Heady flashbacks to the mid-70s Black Ark sound” - Mojo/Top 50 albums of 2024

eaturing pieces for tenor saxophone and digital keyboard, and accented by traces of additional instruments, these songs sound a fated exchange mutually effortless and expansive. On »Greyhound Days« Patrick Shiroishi and Piotr Kurek makinespace for each other’s distinct voices as much as their eloquently mirrored gestures, sharing their attraction to intuitive expressions and the simple tenderness of first takes.

Mesmeric, confessional alt-folk with hints of americana - weaving beautiful stories with deep and poignant lyricism and relatable storytelling, creating a sense of familiarity even in the ambiguous, leaving no choice but to feel everything with her. Mann’s debut album,

- Clara Mann’s evocative debut album Rift navigates the fractured environment of the in-between—those liminal spaces exposed between light and dark, growth and remorse, loss and reclamation. It is a record that makes a strong case for hope, those luminescent silver linings in the dark. With Rift, Clara Mann acknowledges the cracks through which both despair and hope can seep. It is a deeply personal record, yet it is universally resonant, holding the mirror up to herself and to the world around her. It is a record that reflects on embracing our fault lines, navigating the ruptures that can erupt from them and moving forwards, in motion, with a renewed sense of self and aliveness. Mann’s debut album, Rift is all of her—her past, her present, her emotions, her experiences—and now, it is for you.

- Influenced by artists like Jacques Brel, Edith Piaf, Judee Sill, and Tom Waits, Mann has a deep love and care for songwriting

- The album was primarily recorded at the 4AD Studios in London, produced and mixed by Fabian Prynn (Martha Skye Murphy, Ex:Re, Fabiana Palladino) who carefully facilitated an imaginative space for Mann to express the playful, strange and real parts of herself

- She has previously toured and collaborated with the likes of Daniel Rossen (Grizzly Bear), Billie Marten, Skullcrusher, Bill Ryder-Jones, Youth Lagoon and Willie J Healey

Because of their mix of hellified gangster shit and progressive compositions, I once jokingly called Clipping "Deathrow Tull." Well, it's not a joke anymore. While Clipping's last few projects have been record-long concepts like classic prog rock, their cyberpunk-infused new album Dead Channel Sky is mixtape-like, a carefully curated collection in which every track is a love letter to a possible present. It sounds crisp and classic at the same time. When something strikes us as retrospective and futuristic at the same time, it's a reminder of how slipshod our present moment truly is. Juxtaposing high-tech, corporate command-and-control systems (the "cyber") with the lo-fi, D.I.Y. underground (the "punk"), cyberpunk proper starts in 1982 and ends in 1999, from Blade Runner to The Matrix. Concurrently, hip-hop matured, went through its Golden Era, then melted into further forms: it went from from Fab 5 Freddy to Public Enemy to Missy Elliott. While other genres flirted with it, hip-hop was fickle and fey. Rap and rock birthed mutant offspring maligned by most, and hip-hop's relations with electronica rarely fared any better. What if someone explicitly merged hip-hop and cyberpunk - those twin suns of the '80s and '90s - into one set and sound? After all, both movements are the result of hacking the haunted leftovers of a war-torn culture that's long since moved on. On Dead Channel Sky, Clipping texture-map the twin histories of hip-hop and cyberpunk onto an alternate present where Rammellzee and Bambaataa are the superheroes of old; where Cybotron and Mantronix are the reigning legends; where Egyptian Lover and Freestyle are debated endlessly, and Ultramag and Public Enemy are the undeniable forefathers; where the lost movements of 1980s and the 1990s are still happening: rave, trip-hop, hip-house, acid house, drum & bass, big beat-the detritus of a different timeline, the survivors of armed audio warfare. Clipping are no strangers to sci-fi: two of their records were nominated for Hugo Awards (one of science fiction's top literary prizes), and a novella spun-off from their music was nominated for a third. On Dead Channel Sky, Clipping's co-conspirators include everyone from the guitarist Nels Cline, to their labelmates Cartel Madras, rapper/actor Tia Nomore, and wordsmith Aesop Rock. Diggs is known for intricate lyrics and rapid-fire rapping, and the tracks that Snipes and Hutson build in the background are no less complex. All of the above serves to give us a glimpse of an adjacent possible present, where hip-hop and cyberpunk are one culture. Binary stars are often perceived as one object when viewed with the naked eye. Like those twin sun systems, it'll take some special equipment and some discerning attention to pull the stars apart on this record. As Diggs barks on the fire-starting "Change the Channel": Everything is very important!

Blasé is a French-American pop artist, composer, arranger, producer, singer and author. Since his childhood and adolescence in New York, he experimented, mixed together 70s rock, electronic music, disco and hiphop, to create a sound that will take him directly to Paris with his first band Haute, with Anna Majidson. A first hit will be born, «Shut Me Down», whose session Colors accumulates more than 30 million views on YouTube.

After this first success, and following numerous collaborations with various artists such as Agoria, DJ Pone, Lala&ce, Niro or Jwles, he found his musical signature and started solo. The UFO Blasé released his first EP «Why Blasé? » in 2023 on Record Makers label, a unique fusion of Chic, The Strokes and Manu Chao.

Blasé releases his first album «BLABLABLA» in 2025, an album that stands as a personal manifesto of his sound obsessions that open almost as many tracks: 15 original titles in search of the groove.

With his educated ears to the radio and charts across the Atlantic, he honors this generous vision of pop that encompasses old-school hip-hop, R&B, jazz, funk, disco and new-wave, and navigates between different styles in the manner of American artists. Some songs are in French while others are in English, featuring singer Anna Majidson, rapper Jwles, and the late American artist Cola Boyy. So we go on «BLABLABLA» from a studio haunted by Quincy Jones to a cellar where he rehearses The Cure of «Boys Don’t Cry».

High Roller Records, reissue 2025, 180g black vinyl, ltd 250, 425gsm heavy cardboard cover, insert printed on uncoated paper

Pioneering electronic harpist Lara Somogyi and award-winning pianist/composer Jean-Michel Blais present their new album, désert. The album emerged from a serendipitous encounter at Lara’s remote studio amidst the serene expanse of Joshua Tree. Entirely improvised, it captures the natural, organic interaction between the two artists, reflecting both their intuitive musical connection and the true essence of the moment in which they recorded it. Inspired by the passage from dawn to dusk, their improvisation distilled into eleven tracks – mirroring a journey from illumination to obscurity, from simplicity to intricacy, and from strangers to kindred spirits. Melodies convey transcendence and harmonies channel synchronicity – weaving an unforeseen, timeless narrative.

Best known as a founder member of Submotion Orchestra, as well as
Matthew Halsall's pianist for many years & lately keyboardist for Portico
Quartet, Taz Modi now returns with his long-awaited second solo album - the
haunting and elegant 'Involuntary Memories' on Sehnsucht Records
Recorded across the country on a number of different pianos, the album builds upon
the eclectic nature of his debut 'Reclaimed Goods' by aiming to bring as wide a range
of expression into post-classical piano music as possible, whilst also melding subtle
electronic influences

Brandneue Auflage auf brauenm Doppelvinyl: Mac Millers zweites Album "Watching Movies With The Sound Off" aus 2013 mit den Singles "S.D.S.", "Watching Movies" und "Goosebumpz", das auf #3 der Billboad 200-Charts einstieg und auch in Deutschland die Top 50 knackte.

Brian Auger’s Streetnoise, recorded in 1969 with Julie Driscoll and The Trinity, stands as a landmark of late 1960s eclecticism, where the boundaries of jazz, rock, folk, and soul blur into a cohesive, genre-defying masterpiece.

Auger was moving The Trinity on from their R&B, jazz beginnings and for Streetnoise, together with Driscoll, delivered a record that channelled their mutually progressive vision. Julie's haunting vocal performances were the perfect counterpoint to Auger’s innovative instrumentation, creating a sound that was both avant-garde yet deeply soulful. “We aimed to challenge expectations, ” Auger recalls. “Every track was a canvas to experiment and push the envelope.”

The album’s gatefold sleeve design, created by Ralph Steadman, inspired by William Hogarth's 18th-century satirical etchings, was as groundbreaking as its music. This was not just a cover, it was a bold statement about art and society, perfectly mirroring the music’s blend of historical reverence and forward-thinking innovation.

Musically, Streetnoise is a kaleidoscope of styles including jazz and R&B, fusion, folk, rock and gospel flourishes. "Ellis Island, " and “Finally Found You Out” are both intense instrumentals that embody the intense fusion of jazz and rock the group was known for. "Indian Rope Man" is one of the standout tracks. A cover of Richie Havens' original, that inspired The Charlatans ‘Indian Rope’ and All Blues, a bold reinterpretation of Miles Davis’ iconic Kind of Blue masterpiece, on which Driscoll's vocal performance may be the highlight. "Flesh Failures (Let the Sunshine In)" is a hauntingly beautiful cover of the finale from the musical Hair. Auger's own compositions from the opening instrumental 'Tropic Of Capricorn', to the introspective solo piano and vocal Looking In The Eye Of The World' display Brian's multiple talents.

Celebrated for its fearless creativity across all 16 tracks, the album is testament to Brian Auger and Julie Driscoll’s visionary artistry. It remains a must-listen for anyone exploring the dynamic intersections of jazz, rock, and soul. The album’s reputation has only grown with time, cementing its legacy as a cornerstone of experimental music.

Streetnoise; A wholly unique album from an equally unique group

Repress!

In the latest of a series of albums that have mirrored the exceptional story of the band itself, Cornershop return with a new album ‘England Is A Garden’ on March 6th 2020 on Ample Play Records. It is an album that strides in an upbeat fashion, to deliver a full listening experience, bringing songs of experience, empire, protest and humour, steeped in the way only Tjinder Singh would come with. Listen to a first taste of the album now, ‘No Rock: Save In Roll’, that is to say that there is not one without the other, that rock, for all its focus on death is the saviour of life. The anvil here is music itself, and a celebration of Tjinder’s birth place - The Black Country, which also gave birth to heavy metal that has gone on to influence the world to dirty rock, whether the streets are lined with pylons or palm trees, the Black Country has allowed us to see things differently. So the sound here goes back to Englands’ Midlands with two thumbs up to the feeling of hearing heavy metal from the back of a stage, as we all ride on and await the female backing vocals of our song to come in.

Music to Watch Seeds Grow By continues its series of plant-inspired soundscapes with new work from Pittsburgh-based sound artist Davis Galvin. This composition focuses on the Delphinium Elatum, capturing the quiet drama of this striking perennial through carefully constructed ambient textures.

Where their previous work explored the complex electronic territories of the outer technoid reaches, here Galvin turns their attention to the subtle processes of plant growth. The piece unfolds gradually, much like the Delphinium's own journey from seed to flowering plant. Gentle drones and atmospheric elements mirror the plant's various growth stages, from its initial emergence to its ascent to heights of up to two metres. You heard it here first.

The music creates an environment for contemplation, designed specifically for the moments of sowing and tending to these magnificent plants. Galvin's approach, as with all things they turn their ear to, emphasises patience and attention to detail, qualities essential to both gardening and deep listening.

ARCHITECTS are back and charging forward in the heavy rock world with their latest sonic masterpiece, The Sky, The Earth & All Between. After two relentless years on the road-featuring massive European summer tours with Metallica and top billing at festival stages across Europe, (Rock Am Ring, Rock Im Park, Hellfest, Download, Graspop, Full Force to name a few and headlining Bloodstock) - the band has returned to the studio to deliver their most powerful collection of songs yet. With the creative force of Jordan Fish (Bring Me The Horizon) behind the boards, Architects have captured the explosive energy of their live performances while elevating their signature melodic edge. This album reflects the perfect blend of raw intensity, emotional depth, and innovative production. Already making waves, singles like "Curse" and "Seeing Red" have drawn rave reviews from all major metal press worldwide. "Seeing Red" the "anthem powerhouse" landed because of global success in the top 10 of charts worldwide-amassing over 45 million streams along the way. The Sky, The Earth & All Between builds on the momentum of their 2022 album, the classic symptoms of a broken spirit, which stormed to the top of the UK Rock and Metal Charts. With this new release, Architects are once again set to push the boundaries of modern heavy music, cementing their status as one of the most exciting and essential bands of our time.

"Every night we've been listening to RATTLE. They have a stark yet deep trance percussion vibe that is both holistic and rocking." Thurston Moore
“Quietly dramatic and loudly intimate.” The Quietus
“Two drum sets. Two voices. One great idea.” MOJO
Rattle are Katharine Eira Brown and Theresa Wrigley, they formed in 2011 after meeting on the live circuit whilst both playing in other bands. Katharine was a guitarist who had recently started playing drums in the band Kogumaza, whilst Theresa was the drummer in Nottingham band Fists. They’ve since released two long-players, 2016’s self-titled debut album Rattle (Upset The Rhythm / I Own You) and 2018’s Sequence (Upset The Rhythm) to much critical acclaim in the music press, and with James Acaster discussing the debut on his BBC Sounds podcast Perfect Sounds!
Rattle have honed the four songs that make up ‘Encircle’ by playing them live over the last few years, adapting and stretching them into endlessly inventive new shapes, playing with the concept of time and expectation. ‘Encircle’ was recorded at Foel Studios, Wales, produced and mixed by Mark Jasper, and mastered at Liminal Audio by Shaun Crook. The stunningly colourful artwork was created by Martha Glazzard, who was also responsible for Rattle’s other mesmeric covers.
‘All Burning’ opens the album, a live favourite of cyclical tumbling and evolving wordplay. ‘All Burning’ was built up gradually layer by layer with Theresa’s cumulative snare work and Katherine’s urgent calls for action: “hold your doctor, hold your daughter, hold your horses”. If ‘All Burning’ represents fire, then it’s accompanying 12-minute long track on Side 1, ‘Argot’, is informed by the air. ‘Argot’ is a song about uncertainty, with Katherine singing wordlessly across the majority of the track. “I prefer to sing wordlessly often because it feels a bit more expressive and universal” asserts Katherine. The track feels truly epic with a satisfying release that comes with the eventual introduction of the bass drum and snappy hi-hat section.

Side 2 also pairs a shorter song with a long-form composition. ‘Ritual’ is worked up from a simple snare drum pattern which becomes more and more overlapped into an elliptical form of waltz. Katherine considers ‘Ritual’ as “very earthy song - lots of low lying mist on the ground swirling around and the drums coming together to summon something”! ‘Ritual’ was inspired by a visit to the ruins of Boleskine House so multi-dimensional themes and occult practice loom large. ‘Your Move’ is a step-up gear change with the band wanting it to feel like the tape had suddenly started to spin faster, urging movement, venturing action. Clocking in at over 15 minutes, ‘Your Move’, is mesmeric and boundless, hypnotic in its minimalism of doubled-drums and almost tribal vocal cycles.
With ‘Encircle’ Rattle have grown again, these songs are alive with elemental power. They build-up and disintegrate, existing in two places at once, embracing the nuance, tracing the circle’s edge. These are modes of song as pure gesture and eternal imagination, refined in mirrors after midnight.
Rattle has performed at The Barbican, London and toured the UK with Animal Collective and Thurston Moore Group and Europe with The Julie Ruin and Protomartyr, and performed with Hot Snakes, Bill Orcutt Quartetand Codeine.

"Every night we've been listening to RATTLE. They have a stark yet deep trance percussion vibe that is both holistic and rocking." Thurston Moore
“Quietly dramatic and loudly intimate.” The Quietus
“Two drum sets. Two voices. One great idea.” MOJO
Rattle are Katharine Eira Brown and Theresa Wrigley, they formed in 2011 after meeting on the live circuit whilst both playing in other bands. Katharine was a guitarist who had recently started playing drums in the band Kogumaza, whilst Theresa was the drummer in Nottingham band Fists. They’ve since released two long-players, 2016’s self-titled debut album Rattle (Upset The Rhythm / I Own You) and 2018’s Sequence (Upset The Rhythm) to much critical acclaim in the music press, and with James Acaster discussing the debut on his BBC Sounds podcast Perfect Sounds!
Rattle have honed the four songs that make up ‘Encircle’ by playing them live over the last few years, adapting and stretching them into endlessly inventive new shapes, playing with the concept of time and expectation. ‘Encircle’ was recorded at Foel Studios, Wales, produced and mixed by Mark Jasper, and mastered at Liminal Audio by Shaun Crook. The stunningly colourful artwork was created by Martha Glazzard, who was also responsible for Rattle’s other mesmeric covers.
‘All Burning’ opens the album, a live favourite of cyclical tumbling and evolving wordplay. ‘All Burning’ was built up gradually layer by layer with Theresa’s cumulative snare work and Katherine’s urgent calls for action: “hold your doctor, hold your daughter, hold your horses”. If ‘All Burning’ represents fire, then it’s accompanying 12-minute long track on Side 1, ‘Argot’, is informed by the air. ‘Argot’ is a song about uncertainty, with Katherine singing wordlessly across the majority of the track. “I prefer to sing wordlessly often because it feels a bit more expressive and universal” asserts Katherine. The track feels truly epic with a satisfying release that comes with the eventual introduction of the bass drum and snappy hi-hat section.

Side 2 also pairs a shorter song with a long-form composition. ‘Ritual’ is worked up from a simple snare drum pattern which becomes more and more overlapped into an elliptical form of waltz. Katherine considers ‘Ritual’ as “very earthy song - lots of low lying mist on the ground swirling around and the drums coming together to summon something”! ‘Ritual’ was inspired by a visit to the ruins of Boleskine House so multi-dimensional themes and occult practice loom large. ‘Your Move’ is a step-up gear change with the band wanting it to feel like the tape had suddenly started to spin faster, urging movement, venturing action. Clocking in at over 15 minutes, ‘Your Move’, is mesmeric and boundless, hypnotic in its minimalism of doubled-drums and almost tribal vocal cycles.
With ‘Encircle’ Rattle have grown again, these songs are alive with elemental power. They build-up and disintegrate, existing in two places at once, embracing the nuance, tracing the circle’s edge. These are modes of song as pure gesture and eternal imagination, refined in mirrors after midnight.
Rattle has performed at The Barbican, London and toured the UK with Animal Collective and Thurston Moore Group and Europe with The Julie Ruin and Protomartyr, and performed with Hot Snakes, Bill Orcutt Quartetand Codeine.

Mannequin Records proudly presents the debut release from Children Of The Night, a dynamic duo whose music is rooted in cinematic soundscapes. The project brings together Mexican techno producer Alejandro Barba, also known as Dellarge, and French documentary/film producer Pierre Labret, forging a distinctive creative partnership. Their collaboration masterfully combines dark, atmospheric elements with driving electronic rhythms, drawing heavily from the worlds of classic horror and psychological thrillers. The result is a collection of soundscapes that are as eerie as they are captivating, creating an immersive and haunting listening experience.



This album stands as an unconventional horror soundtrack for a film that never came to be—a tribute to the legendary Spanish filmmaker Jess Franco, known for his prolific work in the exploitation and horror genres. Born out of the quiet chaos of the pandemic, this project was originally intended to accompany a slasher film that was halted due to financial constraints. Despite the film’s cancellation, the duo pressed forward, turning the unfinished narrative into an imaginative auditory experience. The soundtrack will serve not only as a homage to Franco but also as a nod to Juan Mendez, better known by his alias Silent Servant, whose dark, minimalist electronic productions have left a deep mark on the underground music scene.

Dellarge and Labret’s creative process is shaped by an eclectic array of inspirations, pulling from both literature and cinema. They’ve cited films such as Franco’s "Paroxismus," "Gritos," and "Faceless" as vital to their sonic direction, as well as the eerie black-and-white imagery of F.W. Murnau's "Nosferatu." Additionally, the duo draws on the disturbing psychological tension of Stephen King’s "Carrie" and "Misery," and the surreal dystopian world of Stanislaw Lem's "Congreso de Futurología." The giallo horror aesthetics of Dario Argento's "Deep Red" also serve as a significant influence, merging surreal visuals with nerve-racking, visceral soundtracks—elements mirrored in Dellarge and Labret's own compositions.



The LP is not only rich with atmospheric storytelling but also boasts a range of remarkable remixes by prominent artists in the electronic music scene. Contributions from Alessandro Adriani, David Carretta, Legowelt, and Broken English Club inject new life into the original tracks, offering reinterpretations that span from industrial techno to Italo disco, further enhancing the project’s depth and versatility. Each remix complements the overarching horror theme while adding a modern, avant-garde twist to the duo’s work.



This debut album promises to be more than just a musical release—it's a vivid exploration of the horror genre through sound, creating a sensory experience that brings forgotten films, unrealized visions, and nightmarish stories to life through music. As the lines between fiction and reality blur, Dellarge and Labret invite listeners into a world where the echoes of lost films can finally be heard.

ARCHITECTS are back and charging forward in the heavy rock world with their latest sonic masterpiece, The Sky, The Earth & All Between. After two relentless years on the road-featuring massive European summer tours with Metallica and top billing at festival stages across Europe, (Rock Am Ring, Rock Im Park, Hellfest, Download, Graspop, Full Force to name a few and headlining Bloodstock) - the band has returned to the studio to deliver their most powerful collection of songs yet. With the creative force of Jordan Fish (Bring Me The Horizon) behind the boards, Architects have captured the explosive energy of their live performances while elevating their signature melodic edge. This album reflects the perfect blend of raw intensity, emotional depth, and innovative production. Already making waves, singles like "Curse" and "Seeing Red" have drawn rave reviews from all major metal press worldwide. "Seeing Red" the "anthem powerhouse" landed because of global success in the top 10 of charts worldwide-amassing over 45 million streams along the way. The Sky, The Earth & All Between builds on the momentum of their 2022 album, the classic symptoms of a broken spirit, which stormed to the top of the UK Rock and Metal Charts. With this new release, Architects are once again set to push the boundaries of modern heavy music, cementing their status as one of the most exciting and essential bands of our time.

The Complete Film Music Composed by Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe - 2xLP 180 Gram Colored Vinyl - Old-Style Tip-On Gatefold Jackets with Satin Coating and a Built-In Booklet Page - Composer Liner Notes - 12 Page Art Gallery Exhibit Catalogue // In partnership with Universal Pictures, Metro Goldwyn Mayer (MGM) and Monkeypaw Productions, Waxwork Records is thrilled to present CANDYMAN Original Motion Picture Soundtrack by Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe. Directed by Nia DaCosta (next year's The Marvels) from a screenplay by Oscarr winner Jordan Peele, Win Rosenfeld and DaCosta, Candyman, currently in theaters nationwide, is a fresh take on the blood-chilling urban legend and a contemporary incarnation of the 1992 cult horror classic. About Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe: Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe (b.1975) is an artist, curator and composer who works primarily with, but not limited to, voice and modular synthesizer for sound in the realm of spontaneous music. Along with analog video synthesis works, he has brought forth an A/V proposal that has been a focus of live performance and installation / exhibition. The marriage of synthesis and the voice has allowed for a heightened physicality in the way of ecstatic music, both in a live setting and recorded. The sensitivity of analogue modular synthesis echoes the organic nature of vocal expression, which in this case is meant to put forth a trancelike state. Lowe's works on paper tend towards human relations to the natural/magical world and the repetition of motifs. The deluxe 2xLP vinyl release features 180-gram colored vinyl, old-style tip-on gatefold jackets with satin coating and a built-in booklet page, liner notes by composer Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe, a 12-page art gallery exhibition catalogue, artwork by Sherwin Ovid and Julian Williams and puppetry art by Manual Cinema.

Wrekmeister Harmonies, the duo of JR Robinson and Esther Shaw, are sonic shape shifters with expansive ideas. From special performances to collaborations the band have worked with David Yow (Jesus Lizard) Ryley Walker, Ken Vandermark, Bruce Lamont, Mark Solotroff, Sanford Parker, Jamie Fennely (Mind Over Mirrors), The Body, Mary Lattimore, Olivia Block, Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu), Chris Brokaw, Fred Lonberg-Holm and Thor Harris (Swans). Inspired by artists such as Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, and Lou Reed, the duo approach each album as a new sonic adventure. Flowers in the Spring was born of deep, careful listening as much as composing. It explores music as a meditative practice with a focus on microtonal shifts and intersectional overtones. Robinson explains: "It"s the subtle movements within and without, the fine threads of sound, loud or quiet, interior or exterior that become valuable." Limiting himself to just four mixer channels on each piece; precisely layering guitar and electronics, intently listening and manipulating either the intensity or the duration of each loop to yield unexpected interactions, moments of beauty as well as dissonance. "Flowers in Spring" emerges from fizzing distortion, hewing monolithic slabs of drone from the rock face while electronics push through fissures. "Fuck the Pigs" uses layers of noise as it metaphorically shifts into the depths of winter, arctic winds howling while the guitar scars like frost across a windowpane. In contrast "A Shepherd Stares Into the Sun" is pure light and heat, overwhelming in its sheer celestial enormity. "Flowers Variation" was born of nature"s microscopic subterranean movements in its primordial gloom and buzzing synth pads. Each track holds multitudes of micro sonic details coming together to form the album"s expansive ecosystem.

Wrekmeister Harmonies, the duo of JR Robinson and Esther Shaw, are sonic shape shifters with expansive ideas. From special performances to collaborations the band have worked with David Yow (Jesus Lizard) Ryley Walker, Ken Vandermark, Bruce Lamont, Mark Solotroff, Sanford Parker, Jamie Fennely (Mind Over Mirrors), The Body, Mary Lattimore, Olivia Block, Jamie Stewart (Xiu Xiu), Chris Brokaw, Fred Lonberg-Holm and Thor Harris (Swans). Inspired by artists such as Glenn Branca, Rhys Chatham, and Lou Reed, the duo approach each album as a new sonic adventure. Flowers in the Spring was born of deep, careful listening as much as composing. It explores music as a meditative practice with a focus on microtonal shifts and intersectional overtones. Robinson explains: "It"s the subtle movements within and without, the fine threads of sound, loud or quiet, interior or exterior that become valuable." Limiting himself to just four mixer channels on each piece; precisely layering guitar and electronics, intently listening and manipulating either the intensity or the duration of each loop to yield unexpected interactions, moments of beauty as well as dissonance. "Flowers in Spring" emerges from fizzing distortion, hewing monolithic slabs of drone from the rock face while electronics push through fissures. "Fuck the Pigs" uses layers of noise as it metaphorically shifts into the depths of winter, arctic winds howling while the guitar scars like frost across a windowpane. In contrast "A Shepherd Stares Into the Sun" is pure light and heat, overwhelming in its sheer celestial enormity. "Flowers Variation" was born of nature"s microscopic subterranean movements in its primordial gloom and buzzing synth pads. Each track holds multitudes of micro sonic details coming together to form the album"s expansive ecosystem.

Prolific Norwegian trumpeter and ECM veteran Arve Henriksen returns with Estonian guitarist/composer Robert Jürjendal in tow, matching his idiosyncratic shakuhachi-style melodic condensations with Jürjendal's glassy electro-acoustic soundscapes and sonorous percussion.

Henriksen releases a lot but is remarkably reliable; his playing is so versatile that hearing it dematerialise into different ensembles and individual methodologies is always a treat. Jürjendal is a veteran guitarist, but doesn't approach his instrument from a purely classical standpoint, taking a Fripp-inspired path towards texture, processing and looping his sounds until they're barely recognisable. The duo share a similar love for Hassell's Fourth World ambience, and here inject new life into that mood.

Jürjendal's percussion is impressive: he offsets cascades of oddly-tuned electronics on 'Tuonela' with booming, ritualistic tom hits that punctuate Henriksen's melancholy phrases; and on the brilliant 'Ancient Bells', plays a set of gongs and gamelan-style instruments, creating swirling hammered tonal clusters that quiver beneath Henriksen's echoed-out, spirited improvisations. It's not always that corporeal, either; on 'A Remarkable Flow', he loops guitar phrases, creating gentle vibrations that rumble in the background while he mirrors Henriksen's pitchy zig-zags with high-pitched oscillator vamps.

Even on the peaceable 'Miraculous Lake', discreet kalimba loops set a celestial tempo that anchors the duo's gaseous soundscapes. And although they veer towards end-credits loveliness on the Göttsching-influenced 'Reunion Hymn', it’s balanced by the album's darker passages, like 'Rebirth' and 'Another Me'. On the latter, Henriksen's trumpet is transformed into a voice-like warble, while Jürjendal replies with glacial E-bowed drones that resonate creepily alongside his lysergic FM pads.

Tradition shapes your work. For saxophonist and bandleader Shabaka Hutchings, that's something he's long understood. After years spent in the orbit of London's jazz circuit, he examines and reimagines his influences with a dexterity that's unique. Drawing out the vision underlying his new album, he says, I see energy as being a form of wisdom to be passed down through the ages.'

Unpicking the album's title, he continues, "When we study the music, the lives, the words of our master musicians we obtain a glimpse of that artist's essential energy source. This is the core vitality of the individual which leads them to utilise the musical specifics of their chosen genre in a way that mirrors their inner source of power. This is an intuited wisdom that's handed to us from the legacies of our elders.

The album is a document of sessions combining Hutchings with a group of South African jazz musicians he's long admired. His connection to the group was Mandla Mlangeni (bandleader of the Amandla Freedom Ensemble), whom he'd flown there to play with over the past few years. Recorded across just one day, the group drew on their South African lineage - heroes like Zim Ngquwana and Bheki Mseleku - to bring their own slant to the American jazz lineage which is reconfigured in Hutchings' compositions themselves.

Going beyond the jazz greats Hutchings cites, influences are drawn from plenty of other sources: Caribbean calypso, central African song structures and Southern African Nguni music all play a part. Bringing together those ideas with the contributions of his bandmates is, he explains, crucial to what he sees in the role of an album artist. Even though I wrote all the music, for me, the leader of the project isn't the person who writes all the music but the one who has a vision for how certain musical elements will be combined."

A regular sight on stages around London and beyond, playing - and often leading - groups like The Comet Is Coming, Sons of Kemet and Melt Yourself Down, he's part of a generation whose idea of jazz is pointedly unrefined. That's to say, Wisdom of the Elders comes from an artist interested in the indefinable gaps more than fitting into boxes.

Max Richter, der gefeierte Komponist, der dafür bekannt ist, traditionelle Orchestrierung nahtlos mit modernen elektronischen Elementen zu verbinden, bereitet sich darauf vor, sein mit Spannung erwartetes Album
zu veröffentlichen. Dieses Album markiert eine bedeutende Entwicklung in Richters musikalischem Werdegang, da er sich intensiver mit Themen wie Optimismus und der Polarität des Lebens und menschlicher
Emotionen auseinandersetzt, begleitet von einer tieferen Erkundung elektronischer Klänge und Feldaufnahmen.
Mit seiner jahrzehntelangen Karriere und prägenden Projekten wie SLEEP oder Vivaldi Recomposed kann
Max Richters Einfluss auf Musik und Kultur gar nicht hoch genug eingeschätzt werden. Seine unvergleichliche Fähigkeit, tiefgreifende menschliche Erfahrungen in musikalische Kompositionen zu übersetzen, hat
ihm weltweit eine treue Anhängerschaft eingebracht.
Seither begeisterte Max Richter weltweit ein Millionenpublikum und berührte damit nicht nur bewährte
Kenner, sondern auch völlig neue Generationen von Hörern, sei es in Filmen wie Ad Astra, oder Serien, wie
zuletzt in den Netflix-Erfolgsformaten Bridgerton oder The Crown.

Celebrating over ten years in the game, Seth Troxler and The Martinez Brothers' carefully cultivated Tuskegee Music imprint returns with a deeply rooted collaboration between West Coast-based talents Late Delivery and BL SUEDE. Reinterpreting a club classic from Sheila E. and Prince, blending soul, deep tech house and freestyle influences at 130 bpm, ‘Glam Life’ lives up to the prosperous vibe of its title.

Originally from Washington D.C. and New Orleans respectively, Late Delivery have been refining their shared love of house culture since meeting in 2008. Collaborating with Inglewood, CA raised producer and vocalist BL SUEDE, this ode to a iconic time in Black music culture is imbued with the same sense of musicality, with BL’s fluid vocals in a heavenly posture amid joyous horns and irresistible percussion.”

Kenny Glasgow’s smooth, restrained take presents a champagne room mirror perspective on this particular ‘Glamorous Life’, with the former Art Department man and US rave scene lifer tapping directly into sensual, minimal pleasure. Afriqua meanwhile takes BL SUEDE's versatile vocals in a bright, diverse direction, conjuring fresh elements from an archive of breaks and bubbling basslines, landing between modern Amapiano and vintage EBM.