Buscar:moments

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

The seeds of composer Rafael Anton Irisarri’s latest LP were first planted during his 2016 tour in Italy, months before that Autumn’s unexpected presidential election. The linguistic glitch of an innocuous diner in Milan named “il Mito Americano” – meant as “The American Dream” but translated literally to English as “The American Myth” – sparked a series of ideas, both conceptual and musical.

Amid the chaos of 2020, while exploring the stark world of brutalist architecture and inspired by the false fronts of Potemkin villages, a vision started to take shape: FAÇADISMS. Composed over three years, it’s a late capitalist lament of simmering electric despondency.

Irisarri’s obsession with repeating motifs mirrors the cyclical nature of our tumultuous political history. The album’s eight tracks heave and storm like a tempest being drained of its rage. This is the sound of majestic dissipation, of morning afters, fashioned from a mournful haze with cavernous guitars and granular twilight. A euphony of a receding tide as one sifts through the remnants of what remains: dust, delusion, and memory.

Opening with the somber gauze of “Broken Intensification," FAÇADISMS moves fluidly between moments of absence and abandon. Ashen swaths of electronics billow above smoldering embers of melody, guitar, and scattered streaks of processed strings and voice, as on the rapturous doom of “Control Your Soul's Desire for Freedom,” featuring Julia Kent on cello and Hannah Elizabeth Cox on vocals. "The impoverished peoples of the Americas have known all along that 'freedom' is a cruel illusion crafted by the elites, akin to Potemkin's fake villages designed to impress Catherine the Great," Irisarri indicates. "FAÇADISMS illustrates a twisted inversion where the rulers deceive their subjects with illusions of safety, democracy, and free speech to create a grotesque mirage of control over their own lives.”

Elsewhere, Irisarri leans into passages of hushed oblivion (“Hollow,” “Dispersion of Belief”), while ragged drones rumble and disintegrate into wind-battered ambient wreckage. One has the sense that it’s all too late. The hour of fury has passed. The beauty has come and gone. Irisarri’s muse has become the crack in the façade of the unraveling myth.

The record closes with a climax of grand departure. Co-written with Kenyan sound artist KMRU, “Red Moon Tide” surges from flickering elegy to celestial disquiet, roiling waves of hymnal descent, and bristling noise. The effect is unsettling and unmooring: a soundtrack for the soul leaving the body, only to discover a void. It’s the sound of the center not holding, of shared illusions being dissolved in a tunnel of white light.

The cover photograph captures a profound sense of desolation. Taken in the historic shanty town of La Perla, Puerto Rico, where Irisarri spent his childhood, brutal colonial mysteries are lost to time. A skeletal concrete structure decays against an expansive blue horizon. Only the shadow of its shell ripples on the empty sea.

Has the American myth finally run its course?

Unbound by place or genre, mercurial, experimental pop duo Soft as Snow find freedom to intuitively reflect the disarray of human connection with their intricate, shape-shifting pop production. With each successive release, the duo evolves, unfurling into their own poetic sound, now fully realized on their intimate, third full-length, Metal.wet.

The oft-present trappings of male-female duos are eschewed here as the Berlin-based Oda Starheim and Øystein Monsen contribute equally across a canvas of analogue synthesizers, samplers, live drums, and processed guitars. At once a part of and yet apart from the zeitgeist, their forward-thinking modernity stretches the limits of expectations across Metal.wet's ten insouciant tracks. Fans of Tirzah, Hype Williams, and even Angelo Badalamenti will find much to love in this haunting work peppered with ASMR moments and rough sampling wrapped in high production –– twinkling glasses and sirens in the distance, rhythms and voices up front. The result is synth-driven, noisy, and dripping with laidback, confident sensuality.

Although Starheim's voice begins the album in a whisper, it quickly becomes apparent that the group has jettisoned their previous tendency to bury and distort her vocals. Nested in a bed of thorny electronics and broken rhythms, her multifaceted vocals might bring to mind Kazu Makino of Blonde Redhead or Hope Sandoval fronting Massive Attack. London MC Brother May (Mica Levi, CURL) makes an appearance on the driving and ethereal “Whip,” while Øystein’s own voice appears for the first time in a state of languid background haze.

Soft as Snow create and record across Europe. Defiantly averse to genre, the pair become vessels for their “electronic music pushed to the brink of collapse” (The Wire), previously released by Infinite Machine and Houndstooth. Informed by backgrounds in film and performance art, “there’s a surrealism that comes with watching Soft as Snow in the flesh,” (Vice) as seen at L.E.V. and Lunchmeat Festivals. Collaborations with visual artist Guynoid, designer AGF Hydra, and sculptor Camilla Steinum add depth to the corporeality of their “strange, mesmerising and utterly unforgettable” electronic experimentations. (DJ Mag).

Clear Vinyl, limitiert auf 200 Exemplare. Gestartet vor, beinahe gescheitert während und endlich fertig gestellt nach der Pandemie ist "Für 3 Minuten 11" das dritte Album der Mannheimer Punkband Kaptain Kaizen. Als Hommage an die durchschnittliche Länge eines Pop-Songs steht der Titel sinnbildlich für die Frage nachdem Wozu des eigenen Schaffens, der Kunst des Abschaltens in der heutigen Zeit und dem unvergesslichen Genuss eines vergänglichen Moments. Die zehn Tracks der Platte durchleuchten verschiedene Themen, meist in kritischer Auseinandersetzung mit aktuellen gesellschaftlichen Entwicklungen.

Mac DeMarco, formerly Makeout Videotape, is the anti-thesis to your stereotypical singer-songwriter. Disregarding the seriously somber moments, he replaces them with whimsical and youthful spontaneity, whilst retaining the endearing and subtle commentaries that exude his familiarity. Promptly after leaving his Edmonton garage for Vancouver he embarked on a North American tour accompanying fellow Canadians Japandroids on a grand voyage of enlightenment and alcoholic debauchery. DeMarco's a weird cat cultivating an affinity for occult imagery, nudity and social satire. But his most impressive trait is his undeniable and instinctual ability to compose magical pop jangles, of which he'll likely refer to as "jizz jazz". His dusted jams have garnished him accolades that are as ever-increasing as his song writing abilities; his sound rendering comparisons, but in a nomadic fashion alluding no distinct origin. DeMarco's debut solo EP entitled "Rock And Roll Night Club" will ramble into the great unknown guided by Captured Tracks, DeMarco's inner Elvis a tow.

Recorded in 1962, Hawkins’ quartet featuring Tommy Flanagan (Piano), Major Holley (Bass) and Eddie Locke (Drums) puts forth an easily palatable selection of repertoire, with up-tempo moments like ‘Go Li’l Liza’, and Swingin’ Scotch alongside a trio of ballads including Quincy Jones’ ‘Quintessence’. This Verve By Request title is pressed on 180-gram vinyl at Third Man in Detroit.

Tristan Arp returns to Wisdom Teeth with his sophomore LP: ‘a pool, a portal’ - a vast, multi-dimensional record of pin-drop rhythms, hushed vocals and swirling ambience that maps out a vivid limbic space between the natural and the digital worlds. The LP began life while Tristan was still living in Mexico City, and was subsequently finished in New York. Carrying on from where his acclaimed debut ‘Sculpturegardening’ left off, the record marries hallucinatory modular synths with cello, found sound and spoken word, creating a rich sonic world in which machines mimic nature and acoustic instruments merge with their digital counterparts. Across the record’s narrative arc, listeners are invited to imagine a future world in which nature and machines collaborate to rewild and search for new modes of being. Far from apocalyptic, the artist’s vision is yearning and hopeful - a reflection on how we might evolve to overcome our very human limitations. “Hopefully we can all open a little portal into another world and integrate what we learn into our own”, Tristan offers. True to his word, Tristan shared much of the creative process with his machines, using modular generative processes to create randomised, improvisatory moments that he could collaborate on as artist and observer. Most of the tracks were captured in single takes as live performances and improvisations that were subsequently edited and cut down. Speaking of ‘Life After Humans’ - the record’s beguiling 10-minute centrepiece - Tristan recalls: “I neglected to record multi-track outs, but it was actually super empowering to be left with just a stereo track: I couldn’t mix individual elements even if I wanted to after the recording, but I’m happy I inadvertently limited myself in that way.” Alongside his own voice, the record features a stunning appearance from fast-rising Guatemalan cellist and vocalist, Mabe Fratti. The pair met in Mexico City in 2020, where she helped Tristan to learn cello - an encounter that ultimately went on to inform the recordings that made up ‘Sculpturegardening’. Her appearance on ‘a pool, a portal’ marks a full-circle moment in their creative relationship. The album’s artwork features photography by Zhang An - a photographer based in Nanjing, China. Despite their appearances, these are unmanipulated photos of real-world ice formations. As is the case throughout ‘a pool, a portal’, the lines between the natural and the artificial are playfully indistinct.

Fourth R.A.N.D. Muzik x Echocentric Records collaboration release is an album by DC Salas.

DC Salas' second album, To The Places I Call(ed) Home, is a deeply personal exploration of memories, grief, and the concept of home, blending house, progressive, new beat, acid, goa, and trance.

Crafted over two years in his Brussels studio and on the road, the album served as a healing process following personal losses and reconnects Salas with his father's Peruvian roots. It features collaborations with Curses and Moroccan artist Zaatar, and each track reflects moments that shape his life while honoring fragments of his past.

Despite its themes of loss, the album radiates positivity with bright dancefloor moments and new beginnings.

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?"

With his 9th album, Housemeister invites you on a fascinating journey through electronic music. This work combines influences from techno, electro, synthesizer music, melodic house and synthpop, and shows the artists diversity and creativity. Driving rhythms, optimistic sounds, life-affirming vibes and less nervousness than in previous releases make this album more mature and an incomparable listening experience. The album captivates with its varied mix of different styles that magically come together in harmony. Beautiful melodies that stay in the ear and a successful balance of slow and fast tracks make it a work that constantly reveals new facets. A particular highlight of the album is the track Love is a Killer, in which Joy Tyson provides goosebump moments with her incredible voice. This alternative synthpop song is an emotional highlight and shows Housemeisters ability to create deep and moving music. This album is a must-have for all electronic music lovers and a versatile companion for any playlist. Whether in the club, on the radio or in a personal playlist, Housemeisters new album will set dance floors ablaze and hearts melting. And like always, the artwork is made by Housemeister himself.

1965’s Dialogue was the debut by vibraphonist Bobby Hutcherson who had already proven himself a versatile sideman on albums from Idle Moments to Out To Lunch. Dialogue showcased his more adventurous leanings with a sextet featuring Freddie Hubbard, Sam Rivers, Andrew Hill, Richard Davis & Joe Chambers. This stereo Tone Poet Vinyl Edition was produced by Joe Harley, mastered by Kevin Gray from the original analog master tapes, pressed on 180g vinyl at RTI, and packaged in a deluxe gatefold tip-on jacket.

based songwriter Henrik Appel returns with third album Shadows. Ranging from freewheeling garage rock to intimate moments, and adding touches of jazz, Shadows is inspired by the likes of Bob Dylan’s Blond on Blonde and The Fall’s Hex Enduction Hour and another step of his continued evolution as a songwriter and artist.

For as long as he’s been a solo artist, Henrik Appel has been in a constant state of evolution. His first album, 2018’s Burning Bodies, was a meticulous construction project, one that came togeth-er over a five-year period and that saw him chronicle, with searing honesty, the slow death of a relationship, with its nine songs written according to a stringent set of self-imposed rules, intend-ed to keep the songwriting minimalist and bare-bones in nature.

His 2021 follow-up, Humanity, represented a remarkable progression of its own. It was born out of a break-up of a different kind, this time with his former bandmates in Stockholm outfit Lion’s Den; piecing together aspects of the vision he’d had in mind for the band’s never-realised second al-bum, he built from them his own sophomore LP, one that took the classic feel of Burning Bodies and imbued it with adventurous new influences, as he began to carve out a genuinely singular sound.

Now, three years on from Humanity, Appel has made another ambitious left turn. Neither of his first two albums were made in complete isolation; on both, he enlisted the production services of Stockholm underground legend Martin ‘Konie’ Ehrencrona, and also collaborated on his lyrics with his partner, Emma Lind. Now, on this thrilling reinvention of a third record, Appel has turned away from perfectionism, placing chief importance instead on making a raw, human record.

Arbes’ long-awaited debut album, "Counterways", exists on the cusp between the ethereal and the more attention-seeking concerns of pop. The record invites listeners into an unusual sonic world of atmospheric depth. Comparisons can be drawn to New York post-punk of a more colourful bent, running Blondie all the way through to Gang Gang Dance. The album's dream-pop dimension brings to mind Cocteau Twins, while its grittier, art-rock moments, coloured with ambience feels akin to Deerhunter. Glimmering flashes of psychedelia channels the likes of Melody's Echo Chamber.

The ten track album explores romantic dreaming and the struggle to (not) understand and to be understood. It memorialises glimmers of connection, discontentment and longing. Front woman Jess Zanoni’s soulful, oracular voice is anchored by the earthbound brambles of prickly guitar and brushstroke percussion, where all is tethered to a surface of unearthly detail and resonance. Written and recorded over a five year period (2017-2022), Arbes eke out every possible ounce of emotionality from their songs. Not to sedate, but to guide listeners somewhere unexpected, at the song or album's conclusion.

Pedals is the second studio album from post-hardcore band Rival Schools, released 10 years after their debut record United by Fate was first released. Pedals was recorded by the entire original cast, whom were seen as a tremendous influence within the post-hardcore movement. Where United by Fate was an album often ready to burst at the seams with energy, Pedals shows a more matured and controlled feel, even somewhat experimental at moments with bass tones and frequent use of acoustic guitars and distortion effects. Much like the 2022 reissue of Rival School's first LP, this reissue features packaging updates curated specifically by the band to create the definitive version of this record. The album's artwork has been updated with new gatefold packaging and a slip-case cover along with an updated set of lyrics and liner notes. In addition to all ten original tracks, the second disc of this edition includes three b-sides and four live tracks.

"”A Retrospective” covers 21 tracks of the finest moments of Pink Martini. This Best of embodies everything that makes the 12-piece little orchestra from Oregon so adored from the pop of “Hey Eugene” to a version of ""Mas Que Nada"" featuring the revered Japanese singer Saori Yuki, and the haunting ""Que Sera Sera"" to a unique version of “Moon River” with Gus Van Sant on vocals.
This special collection is a Ltd Book edition featuring deluxe booklet and 40 polaroid Reproductions taken by bandleader, Thomas Lauderdale."

The acclaimed trio of Mikkel Ploug, Sissel Vera Pettersen, and Joachim Badenhorst is set to release their fourth studio album, Lento, on November 1, 2024, through the Klein label. Following their celebrated albums 'Equilibrium', 'Walking Voices', and 'Liquid Light', this new release further cements the group’s position as an innovative voice in contemporary music.

Lento offers an evocative blend of jazz, folk/world, classical, minimalism, and avant-garde influences, crafted through a dynamic mixture of free improvisation and original compositions. The trio’s unique synergy is evident in every track, pushing the boundaries of genre while maintaining an intimate and expressive core.

The trio comprises of the Norwegian vocalist and saxophonist Sissel Vera Pettersen, a multifaceted artist known for her collaborations with Chick Corea and Marilyn Mazur, Her contributions to Lento showcase her versatility, moving seamlessly between voice and saxophone with a fluidity that anchors the group’s explorative sound.
On guitar is Danish virtuoso Mikkel Ploug, who is renowned for his work with saxophonist Mark Turner and composer Bent Sørensen, Ploug's playing on Lento is both intricate and expansive. Completing the trio is the Belgian reed player Joachim Badenhorst, whose talents on the clarinet have earned him a spot in Downbeat Magazine’s "Rising Star" polls. Badenhorst is known for his work with Han Bennink Tony Malaby’s, Kris Davis and his own projects Carate Urio Orchestra and Zero Years Kid.
Having garnered praise from critics and fans alike for their previous albums, the trio continues to evolve and captivate. Lento is a testament to their ability to fuse disparate musical elements into a coherent, deeply moving whole. Expect meditative passages, explosive bursts of improvisation, and moments of pure musical dialogue that transcend traditional boundaries.

. 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

Discovered while working as a publishing assistant at Mute Records, Nerina Pallot signed to Polydor Records and released her first album in 2001. The release of her critically acclaimed second album, Fires, drew comparisons with Joni Mitchell, Fiona Apple and Tori Amos, and spawned hit singles Everybody's Gone To War and Sophia, plus Brit Award and Ivor Novello nominations.

Now two decades into her career, Pallot's rich and varied back catalogue suggests an artist determined to carve her own path. She has lent her distinctive vocals to songs like Circus from Amazon's Modern Love and her version of Love Will Tear Us Apart on BBC/RTE's Normal People.

The creation of her latest album, A Psalm for Emily Salvi, is a deeply personal endeavour. Born from an unexpected connection, the record is both a love letter to those who have supported her over the years and a tribute to the power of music in the face of adversity. One day, Pallot received a message from a woman named Emily (not her real name), who shared how Pallot's music had been a lifeline during her darkest moments. That message became the catalyst for the album, a reminder of the importance of perseverance, connection, and vulnerability. Recorded in London and featuring a stellar cast of British musicians from the jazz and soul scene, it is an album of light and dark and steeped in the classic singer-songwriter tradition.

2024 Repress

Errol and Alex Rita’s Touching Bass are proud to present Soon Come; a landmark compilation celebrating the talents of their now intercontinental musical community and an introduction to the wide-spanning sound and feeling of their growing label. 22 original tracks spread across double 12” vinyl and split between 'day' and 'night' moods, creating exciting connections between music for both the home and the eclectic sounds of their much-loved dancefloor.

Over the past six years, Touching Bass have steadily established themselves as one of London’s most important musical incubators. More than just a club night, concert series, NTS Radio mainstay and a label, Touching Bass has become something of a movement: a community meeting grounds for music lovers and some of the most exciting contemporary music-makers both in the capital and beyond.

The tracklist is a reflection of that, curated by TB’s Errol, Alex Rita and Sammseed over the course of two years. Among the list of contributors are Chicago/New York’s keiyaA, Stones Throw’s DJ Harrison, Ben Hauke, Ego Ella May, recent WARP signee Nala Sinephro, Melo-Zed, Hiatus Kaiyote’s Clever Austin and many more (see below for tracklist). Artwork for the project comes from Alex Rita, combining moments caught at Touching Bass’ own gatherings over the years.

Since launching properly in 2019, Touching Bass has quickly established itself as one of the UK’s most exciting new labels. The young imprint has championed critically respected and refreshingly innovative works with little genre restriction, receiving recognition from both musical and cultural bil. From the electrifying grooves of Danish trio, Athletic Progression, to the modern classical of South London’s CKTRL (featuring Duval Timothy).

Along the way, Errol and Alex have also been tapped up for collaborations/ commissions with some of the world’s most forward-thinking creatives and institutions; from the world-renowned White Cube gallery for Frieze Week 2021 and fashion designers Nicholas Daley and Azura Lovisa to film music supervision for Ronan McKenzie and Joy Yamasungie’s WATA and multi-award winning director, Jenn Nkiru’s (Beyonce, Kamasi Washington, Neneh Cherry) Black To Techno, the experimental documentary which premiered at Frieze Los Angeles and was nominated for ‘Best Short’ at the IDA Awards.

For newcomers, Soon Come acts as a vital introduction to the label’s wide-spanning DNA. For those already acquainted, it’s a glimpse at its exciting future.