Cerca:more than material intimate ep

After dropping several tracks and performing at select festivals throughout the years, Ólafur Arnalds and Janus Rasmussen dedicated the year 2014 to explore the area in-between Ólafur's more acoustic, piano-based solo work and Janus's synth-heavy electro pop, with their collaborative electronic project Kiasmos.

By focusing solely on their self-titled debut album, Ólafur and Janus have been able to combine and further develop their unique sound aesthetics to complete an album driven by their mutual love for electronic music. Made in Ólafur's newly build studio in Reykjavík, Iceland, a majority of the album was recorded using acoustic instruments next to a variety of synthesisers, drum machines and tape delays. It features a live drummer, string quartet and Ólafur performing on the grand piano, producing an ambient, textured sound, which makes it a perfect home listen and equally danceable record. If you listen closely, you can spot them record the thumb piano, finger snapping and even the sound of the metal grinder of a lighter slowly to replace the usual electronic hi-hat sounds, giving the album a far more intimate and unique atmosphere.

We decided to start almost completely over with this record, so most of the material is written this year with the idea of making a record that can stand as one piece rather than a collection of songs. I am very excited to get a proper record out exploring a different territory than I am used to. I touch a lot on electronic genres in my own music but never have the opportunity to go full out electronic like we do here.' - Ólafur Arnalds

The Kiasmos project has been around since 2007, but because of all our other projects we never really got the time to sit down and write all the tracks we always wanted to. So when we early this year finally found the time to sit down and make a full length album there was so much we wanted to try out. The result surprised us a bit, it's deeper and more emotional than we imagined it to be, but that's the beauty of being able to make an album.' - Janus Rasmussen

Long-term Erased Tapes graphics collaborator Torsten Posselt at Feld Studios in Berlin created the cover artwork. Feld Studios was a natural choice for Kiasmos, seeing he also designed the cover for their Thrown EP, released previously.

Kiasmos is made up of Icelandic BAFTA-winning composer Ólafur Arnalds, known for his unique blend of minimal piano and string compositions with electronic sounds, and Janus Rasmussen from the Faroe Islands, known as the mastermind of the electro-pop outfit Bloodgroup. Based in Reykjavík, Arnalds used to work as a sound engineer, often for Rasmussen's other projects, where the two musicians discovered their common love for minimal, experimental music. They eventually became best friends, often hanging out in their studio, exploring electronic sounds.

Italian producer, musician, DJ, and groove architect Sam Ruffillo drops his long-awaited debut album Tipo Così on Toy Tonics – a sun-drenched, genre-blurring statement that blends classic house with Mediterranean flair, romantic funk, and tongue-in-cheek Italo vibes. Over 11 expertly crafted tracks, Ruffillo delivers a dancefloor-ready, emotionally rich LP that connects deep musicality with irresistible rhythm and light-hearted elegance.

After three acclaimed EPs and collaborations with revered artists such as Barbara Boeing, Kapote, and Fimiani, Ruffillo has firmly cemented himself as a core artist on the Berlin-based label. Known for his unmistakable signature sound — a warm mix of vintage disco, 90s house, and Italian vocals — Sam’s music has garnered widespread DJ support from tastemakers like Gerd Janson, Palms Trax, Seth Troxler, and DJ Tennis, while becoming a staple on Italian airwaves. His infectious summer anthems like Danza Organica and Perfetta Così have soundtracked countless club nights and festivals, creating a loyal following that eagerly awaited this full-length debut.

Tipo Così is the natural culmination of a musical journey that’s both playful and profound — a travel diary written in grooves, synth stabs, and melodies that feel like postcards from a parallel Mediterranean universe. The album expands and deepens Ruffillo’s world into a fully immersive experience: lush emotional chords meet tight syncopated grooves, vintage synth textures collide with irresistibly catchy pop refrains, and the boundary between sincerity and playful irony is exquisitely blurred.

Entirely written, produced, and recorded in Italy, in his beloved hometown of Bologna, the album finds Ruffillo at the helm on keys, drum machines, and production, supported by a talented cast of musicians contributing live bass, guitar, and other organic elements — further enriching his trademark fusion of electronic grooves and natural instrumentation. There’s a tactile warmth in these tracks, a hands-on feel that adds soul and depth to every beat.

This album also marks Ruffillo’s heartfelt return to singing in Italian, with standout tracks like House Tipo Così, Mi Fa Volare, Ancora, and Dentro Di Me, where romantic naïveté meets pulsing club energy in a way that feels both timeless and refreshingly new. The vocal performances add an intimate, human touch to the music, reinforcing the personal stories woven into each song. There’s poetry in the casual, a bittersweet elegance in the way the lyrics float over groove-heavy production.

Having toured extensively across Europe, Australia, Indonesia, New Zealand, and Mexico — with sets at iconic venues like Panorama Bar and festivals such as Sónar Barcelona — Ruffillo has fine-tuned much of this album in front of live audiences. The real-world testing ground infused the record with a dynamic energy and immediacy that only comes from genuine crowd interaction. These songs weren’t just made in the studio — they were lived on dancefloors around the world.

Tipo Così is not just a collection of tracks. It’s a philosophy — playful, stylish and unmistakably personal. A modern club album bursting with heartfelt emotion and sophistication. Music for dancers with taste; for lovers of beauty, rhythm, and the little imperfections that make things feel real.

But what exactly is Tipo Così? More than just a phrase, it’s a way of being. It’s about embracing elegance without effort, mixing irony with sincerity, and letting nostalgia slip into the room without taking over the party. It’s Sam Ruffillo’s signature language: relaxed, confident, meticulous yet never rigid — where a chord progression can say as much as a lyric, and every beat carries intention.

The album’s visual identity complements this vision perfectly. The artwork and promotional materials lovingly reference Italian design from the ’80s and ’90s, combining bold graphic elements with playful pop culture nods. This aesthetic mirrors Ruffillo’s music — a fusion of vintage warmth and contemporary freshness, delivered with authenticity and charm.

Sam Ruffillo belongs to a new generation of European artists who are reshaping electronic music by blending past and present, analog and digital, groove and emotion — without nostalgia or pose. His artistic universe is coherent, vibrant, and alive; a rich tapestry of sound, images, and stories that coexist with lightness, precision, and a distinctive voice.

Reflecting on his artistic journey, Sam describes music as a vital, deeply human impulse — a tribal connection to rhythm and body that has driven him since he was a teenager. His creative process balances meticulous planning with room for spontaneity, usually sparked by clear melodic ideas that evolve naturally. Collaborations with close friends, especially vocalists like Ninfa, add warmth and authenticity, exemplified in tracks like “House Tipo Così.” For Sam, music is honest self-expression — crafted for listeners who crave memorable melodies and rhythms imbued with genuine feeling.

While technical perfection is tempting, Sam prioritizes emotion, knowing that what truly resonates is the soul behind the sounds. His long-standing partnership with Toy Tonics has been key in nurturing his vision, offering a blend of creative freedom and professional support. Looking ahead, Sam Ruffillo is excited to broaden his live performances, and release new projects that continue to blend electronic grooves with organic, heartfelt sounds — maintaining the delicate balance between playful irony and sincere emotion that defines Tipo Così.




Kurzversion:
Italian DJ, producer and musician Sam Ruffillo drops his debut album Tipo Così on Toy Tonics - a sunny blend of house, funk, Italo and pop, full of groove and emotion. Written and recorded in Bologna with live instruments and Italian vocals, it’s a playful, elegant journey shaped on dancefloors worldwide. A stylish, sincere club album where nostalgia, irony and rhythm meet in perfect harmony.

- Mi Fa Volare
Road-tested across continents and now finally released, “Mi Fa Volare” channels 90s uplifting euphoria with big breakbeats, lush chords, and Italian vocals built to stick. Somewhere between balearic bliss and piano house nostalgia, it’s a feel-good club weapon made for peak-time moments - already sung back by crowds after just one listen.


- Ancora
“Ancora” is a vibrant hi-NRG track inspired by 80s Italo disco, sung entirely in Italian. It blends driving rhythms with dreamy melodies, capturing the radiant spirit of the decade. This fresh yet nostalgic song delivers euphoric vibes and timeless energy, making it a perfect fit for both dancefloors and reflective listening moments worldwide.


- Dentro Di Me
“Dentro Di Me” channels ‘90s sensuality through a fast-paced, UK house-inspired lens. Entirely in Italian, it’s a bold and contemporary dance track where hypnotic vocals meet high-energy grooves. Blending nostalgic textures with forward-thinking production, the result is a seductive and euphoric trip - equal parts emotional and club-ready.


- Amigo
“Amigo” blends Latin groove, acoustic guitar-driven rhythm, and Mediterranean flair into a warm, magnetic, cross-cultural dance anthem. Sung in Spanish and Italian, it celebrates connection, inclusivity, and the joy of moving together - whether stranger or friend. With its unstoppable rhythm and vibrant energy, it’s a feel-good track with a unifying spirit.


- Ma Sei Fuori
“Ma Sei Fuori” is a tongue-in-cheek dancefloor bomb blending raw house energy with catchy vocal phrases and a nod to classic French touch. Driven by hypnotic vocal lines and a playful attitude, it doesn’t take itself too seriously - while still proving serious club impact. Built for late-night moments, it’s bold, bouncy, and impossible to ignore.

Michael Nau's solo career began with songs crafted and composed in private moments, later to be shared with musical compatriots and reimagined with auxiliary input on records like Michael Nau & The Mighty Thread, Mowing, The Load EP, and Some Twist. These early drafts were stashed away in the vault as Nau strode forward, but after a taxing spring of touring in support of his latest album Less Ready to Go, and recording and self-releasing the stripped-down informal release So On So On, Nau found himself hunkering down at home and rediscovering old gems in his archives. The search yielded a new digital collection of Nau's initial forays into solo work, bundled together as Demo Versions, 2014 to 2017. In their initial incarnations, these songs were less about the end result and more about the discovery. "They're the seed," Nau says of the material. "These recordings are essentially the writing of the songs_ written and recorded at the same time. There's something exciting about them for that reason. It feels magical any time the start of a song arrives, let alone gets `finished.'" These early drafts don't just serve to shed light on the creative process or expose the malleability of Nau's songwriting approach; they often frame the material in an entirely new context. Demo Versions' opening track "The Glass" is a bare-bones affair of acoustic guitar, bass, and vocals_a breezy Sunday morning song that sounds markedly different than the layered lounge-rock approach that later appeared on Mowing. "Light That Ever," with its wall-of-sound production, serves as a climax to Some Twist, but in its infant stage on this collection, it's a beautiful, intimate folk song. Ultimately, all ten songs off Demo Versions, 2014 to 2017 reveal a new side to these fan favorites, with Nau's lush arrangements and unorthodox accompaniments largely absent, and the simple beauty and grace at the heart of the material at front and center.

Joni Void, the artistic persona of Montréal-based French-British producer Jean Néant (he/them) returns to songcraft on their warmest and most welcoming record yet, where the acclaimed sampledelic sound collagist chills out with an emotionally resonant song cycle tinged by downtempo, lo-fi, avant-pop, and trip-hop. Guests include Haco, Ytamo, Sook-Yin Lee, Pink Navel and N NAO. Every Life Is A Light expands on Void's recent stylistic turn towards more languorous and mellow lo-fi production, foreshadowed by the drifting looseness and ambient bricolage of their preceding experimental sound-art record. This transitional sensibility now shapes more defined song structures and styles, with loops are given time and space to unspool, and rhythms shot through the softer-focus lens of trip-hop and dub. Every Life Is A Light swaps the twitchy insistence of Void's acclaimed early albums for a newfound lightness and suppleness, still imbued with all the restlessness, sonic detailing, and emotional resonance that made their name. The neurotic brokenmachine kinetics of earlier Void, summarized by Sasha Geffen as "drawing despair and wonder from within the vast unfeeling of digital communication" in an 8.0 Pitchfork review, may be chilling out, but Void is becoming an ever better conjurer of hauntological feeling. Every Life Is A Light summons this in a comparatively buoyant, benevolent, head-nodding journey more open to tenderness and modest joys. Perhaps it's the sound of Void at greater peace with themselves and the world, despite the bittersweet cost: even as it channels grief, memorializing comrades and companions recently deceased, this album wants light. Void's raw materials continue to draw heavily from samples (their own Walkman cassette fieldrecordings and songs by others) and from a wide community of musical guests. Vocalists Haco on "Time Zone" and Ytamo on "Cloud Level" help levitate what could be lost tracks from a mid-90s Too Pure Records compilation of skewed-lounge electronica. Canadian musician Sook-Yin Lee sings on lead single "Vertigo," a sinewy 80bpm tape-loop and bassline groove propelled by psychedelically-layered lyrics that eventually turn the song in on itself entirely, like Grace Jones' "Nightclubbing" covered by Animal Collective. One of Void's greatest hip-hop loves is the Ruby Yacht collective; charter member Pink Navel drops some brilliant verses on "Story Board." The album's two minimal tracks, an extended piano loop set to a slow beat and shimmering electronics on "Muffin-A Song For My Cat" and the languid sampled bass riff and breakbeat of "Event Flow," are perhaps most overtly `lofi chill.' Indeed the whole album could be said to sit adjacent to those viral (if not already AI-generated) genre trends, which maybe begs the question on a lot of our minds: can specificity and authenticity of musical materials still be heard, still meaningfully signify substance and difference, still matter? Perhaps a question that fades in comparison to the career break Void could catch by landing on generic streaming playlists. More likely, these tracks remain too off-kilter, too genuinely lo-fi and ineffable, and too disqualified by the status of its peasant rights-holders, to catch the algos. Context remains the poor cousin of content. Meanwhile Void marches on, as a tireless organizer of local music events, bouncing around and often living in DIY venue, depending on the latest apartment eviction. With an ubiquitous polaroid camera in tow, they also document each communal happening with a single shot (and often a blinding flash bulb): a memory and metaphor for lives illuminated preciously, singularly, `imperfectly' in the moment. Dozens of these polaroids adorn the album's back cover and inner sleeve art in grid-like montages, as a fitting analog for the careful construction, grainy intimate materiality, and ephemeral feeling of these songs. Every Life Is A Light is Joni Void's most coherent and congenial record while relinquishing none of their experimentalist acumen as a producer or emotional attunement as a composer. Instead these qualities flourish, on an album that lights a humble flame for the fragile promise of homespun creative collaboration as unalienated labour and therapeutic communion, making an enchantingly idiosyncratic contribution to downtempo sample music along the way. Thanks for listening.

Lili Holland-Fricke and Sean Rogan’s debut album “dear alien” is a constellation of radiant improvised impulses, imagined in lucent fragments of cello, guitar and voice. Spacious, tender and glistening with rich electronic distortion, the record melds a spectrum of processed and natural sound as the artists invite listeners into their dreamlike world of synergetic introspections.

Cultivated through a shared spirit of resourcefulness and play, “dear alien” emerges as an organic meeting place in the compositional output of British-German experimental cellist Lili Holland-Fricke and Manchester-born guitarist and producer Sean Rogan. Having studied their respective instruments at the Royal Northern College of Music, both artists have flourished in eclectic solo and collaborative projects, creating intricate and intimate spheres of sound with a deep appreciation for songwriting and improvisation.

Holland-Fricke’s transition from the classical world to writing her own material, and later vastly expanding her palette with electronics, first converged with Rogan’s distinctive flair for production in 2022 on her EP “birdsong for breakfast” and single ‘draw on the walls’. Now, the duo present an album envisioned through true ‘50/50’ collaboration during the summer of 2023, written across two intensive weeks of improvising and experimenting at Rogan’s Greenwich home studio. A convergence of the artists’ sounds and influences, the music was fostered by the idea of making an album with ‘no plan’ and their shared recent discovery of Arthur Russell, to whom the final track is dedicated.

“dear alien” assembles eight compositions that emerged naturally as the duo created sketches with cello and pedals, guitar, tape loops and poetic vocal musings, forming songs that explore themes of waiting, circling back around, and glitchy communication. Moments of drifting through pillowy layers of sound contrast with saturated visions of electronic modification, where the record’s glowing instrumental contours are pushed to the extremes.

The plaintive shades of ‘half blue’ and meandering deliberations of ‘slow thing’ are teased by the friction of static signals and a sense of ever-mutating sonic mass – a sensibility most acutely realised in ‘dawning’, where cello-vocoder eruptions grow in magnitude, the absence of sound between them burdened with something sinister and unspoken. As the artists expand on this piece, ‘It’s the sound equivalent of squeezing your eyes shut to shield against the brightness of something you don’t want to see, only to find that each time you open them again the world is not softening but getting more relentlessly overwhelming, to the point of being totally blinding.’

Three tracks with lyrics – ‘at first’, ‘dear alien’ and ‘seem asleep’ – refract the album’s wistful and melancholic colours into poetic imagery and metaphors, ushering in reflections on relationship tensions and someone close feeling unknown, with hints towards wider unsettled feelings about climate change. In the spirit of lyrical improv, ‘seem asleep’ compiles lone lines from Holland-Fricke’s journals into a cut-and-paste collage around hopeful patience or futile lingering – either way conjuring a softness that welcomes the hazy ambience of ‘for a. r.’, the final composition which soundscapes the summer days spent making the album. As the artists describe of this track, ‘The music kind of leads somewhere, but then kind of leads nowhere, and just meanders around where it is, content to just be walking in a circle back to where it started.’

Amputechture Beneath the technical flash, the fury, the fearless creative brinkmanship of the first two Mars Volta albums lay a potent seam of the blues, an existential vexation that powered every twist and turn of Omar and Cedric’s imaginations. That mournful vibe would come to the surface of the group’s third full-length Amputechture, a simmering/blistering set that was unquestionably the group’s darkest yet. There was no overarching theme here, no interlinking concept binding the songs together, though Cedric concedes that, lyrically, the album was influenced “by a lot of stuff I was going through, a really bad break-up and a lot of other crazy stuff, and trying to put that feeling into the record.” But Amputechture – its name another of the late Jeremy Michael Ward’s invented words – was no downbeat bummer. Opener Vicarious Atonement might’ve been a deliciously gloomy, slow-burning thing, capturing Cedric in delirious duet with Omar’s swooning guitar lines, accompanied by squalling saxophone by Adrian Terrazas-Gonzales and dream-frequency fuckery by the group’s new sonic manipulator, former At The Drive- In member Paul Hinojos. But second track Tetragrammaton swiftly set pulses racing, an epic-in-miniature and containing more ideas within its 16 minutes than most bands manage over an entire career, its proggy, complex guitar figures tessellating in infinite configurations and converging as if conforming to mathematical formulae from another reality. The raw material Amputechture was hewn from started life on the road. Omar now travelled with his own mobile recording studio – a little Neve ten-channel tape recorder and an array of microphones – and was able to work on new ideas on tourbuses, in hotel rooms and during soundcheck (and, occasionally, after the show was done). After touring for Frances The Mute was complete, Omar relocated to Amsterdam, staying with his photographer friend Danielle Van Ark and her partner, Nils Post. It’s here that he demoed Amputechture, flying in engineer Jon DeBaun, drummer Jon Theodore and his brother, Chino, to work on these raw sketches. He later returned to Los Angeles, where the album was finally recorded. Omar ceded guitar duties to his dear friend and kindred spirit John Frusciante, instead assuming the role of musical director. “I wanted to hear the sound of the band,” he says. “I thought, I’ll be able to sit at the console, feel the air of the speakers moving, the unified sound of everything, and not feel distant from it. It was fun, but it was also challenging.” Part of Omar’s new method was to teach the musicians their parts only moments before the tapes rolled. “To keep things fresh, and to keep everyone on edge,” he says, before chuckling. “No, not on edge – on their toes. Amputechture would prove The Mars Volta’s most diverse set yet, drawing into the group’s tornado of influences moments of fiery jazz spirituality and esoteric folk introspection, finding space for passages of devastating subtlety and also their most fierce and full-on moments to date. The aforementioned Vicarious Atonement found its meditative mood echoed by Asilos Magdalena, an intimate, acoustic piece that invoked traditional Latin folk music, as Cedric sang in Spanish a sorrowful tale of a lost soul’s quest for sanctuary within a Magdalen Asylum, a refuge set up by the Catholic church for “fallen women”. The shadowy, sinister closer El Ciervo Vulnerado, meanwhile, tapped into the darker side of spiritual jazz to further explore the album’s themes of redemption and religious myth and magick. Elsewhere, the interplay between guitar and clarinet on Viscera Eyes created complex, unsettling counter-melodies, while the coiling, ornate Meccamputechture – Cedric’s wild fusion of sacred texts, occultism and dystopian science fiction – proved a great showcase for Ikey Owens’ swarming, infernal organ runs, in concert with Frusciante’s arcane guitar-play. But it was Day Of The Baphomets that would prove Amputechture’s most ambitious and most defining epic. Cedric’s lyrics tore into the hypocrisy of religious cant and myths of sin and punishment. “I wanted to make a song that was like the movie The Believers, where this cabal stole kids and did some occult shit with them,” he explains. “But I wanted it to be like, ‘What if the people you hire to do jobs you don’t wanna do rise up one day and then pull some shit like that?’ Like it was the guerrilla warfare, them taking over – wouldn’t that be some fucked up shit? And the music just lent itself to that – the big intro, the bass solo, and all of the ruckus that occurs.” That ruckus was some of the most thrilling Mars Volta music yet, as Omar directed his musicians to rumble through fiery modes of wild tribal groove, ransack-the-palaces riot- rock and supreme progressive experimentalism. Amputechture, then, is the sound of The Mars Volta in imperial mode: fearless, insatiable, unstoppable.

The first album on ohne kommerziellen Wert comes from label co-founder Stute. After several appearances with hard-hitting club material on the OHNE EP series, Stute’s debute LP “Petra” demonstrates a beyond-genre approach that shows a different and more introverted side of the Hamburg-based producer. Far from being a collection of stand-alone gems that have accumulated over the years, the 12 stages of “Petra” sound like they were formed in a single cast. It is a personal and intimate journey through a unique man-machine mindset that has been manifested in music and sound.

Stute isn’t new to the game, but he has been producing under the radar for far too long. He started DJing and producing more than 20 years ago and found himself progressively drawn to different genres like Hip Hop, Breakbeat, Drum & Bass and Techno. And all of those experiences culminate in “Petra”, where Stute maneuvers his production skills through a wide range of styles and tempi somewhere between leftfield and rave. Urgent techno coldness, promising downtempo dystopia, restless acid dreams, floating breakbeat pleasure or hopeful leftfield romance – every track represents a different phase of a long-time companionship with music and making music, resulting in “Petra” being filled with conflict and drama as well as bliss and belonging.

Like all of Stute’s releases, his first LP is shaped by a very high level of production paired with a rare sensitivity for harmonies and arrangements. Every sound is made from scratch with analogue equipment – heavy dragging beats surrounded by glistening synths and bleeps built on a pure love for music and hardware. “Petra” sounds unlikely complete: nothing is missing, nothing is overdone. Nevertheless… or maybe because of that, the 12 arrangements offer you enough space to conjure up images of distant worlds or let you turn inwards to dive deep into your inner self.

2023 Repress
Moon in Earthlight describes the phenomenon one can see in the first few days after a New Moon, when the slim crescent of the moon is completed into a full circle by a faint light that is not lit by sunlight but by the light reflected from Earth. It is also the apt title for the first album from an artist whose first love was astronomy. After 6 EPs over the course of 5 years, Wolfgang Tillmans now releases his first album, Moon in Earthlight, a singularly plural 53-minute piece comprised of 19 tracks.
Opening with more that connects us than divides us, 'Celloloop / More That Connects Us', a looped cello sets out a discursive path for a bright keyed melody to flirt with while the sounds of the organ and synthesizer build their supporting roles, all along a bouncing four-to-the-floor beat punctuated with bright electronic chimes and the rhythmic tempo of a shaker. The invitation is hard to resist as a yearning voice opens up to let us know he's left his "place in security." And, "you're shining … All the way down to this glittering place … you're shining." Where voices and laughter are then overheard in the background of another field recording sounding water dripping from a 'Rain Gutter' later caught by the soft, warm rhythmic bounce between two synth notes on 'Fourth Floor' where chime-like and percussive timbres resonate from the metal tine keys of the kalimba creating a meditative acuity, which Tillmans peppers with arpeggiated synth riffs.
A composition of multiplicities, Tillmans' album debut is a collage of sounds, field recordings, words, studio jam sessions and live recordings, voice, soundscapes, and instrumentation scored with audible space to breathe along the way. Keeping pace, the first 'Kardio Loop' is a vocal callisthenics contemplating 'the possibility of a happy life' and/or the propositional properties of its semantic constructions backed by the recording of a heartbeat from a cardiogram. This movement is gradually accompanied by a set of orchestral synth pads that build to a crescendo before the soft, twirling melody of 'Stonerella' carries us along a carousel-like melodic, pop, instrumental timed in the percussive clapping of pebbles.
Not knowing where one leaves off and the other begins is part of this album's enigma, as we move in and out of these aural spaces choreographed with the slightest, open hand, where we can float through 'Don't Kill It by Naming It' before dancing along 'Insanely Alive' all the while contemplating the inherent, fragile complexities of language and being.
This enigma also stems from the raw vulnerability of Tillmans' voice. Whether lyrically playful or introspective, it is always giving: intimately unfolding as in the surprising take on Simon & Garfunkel's 'El Condor Pasa' or shapeshifting in 'Can't Escape into Space' or fully naked as raw material expression in 'Kantine' and 'Ocean Walk'.
Whether it's Tillmans voice or voices overheard, a field recording or a pop synth melody, these sounds defy track listings, audibly held together as one of many in an aural space that becomes a reflective cycle that develops over the course of the album. The accumulative effect of which (reminiscent of the artist's installations), drives the singularity of each of the album's elements into a complete, unconsolidated whole. Like a phenomenon that marks time, Moon in Earthlight is the shadow and the reflection, fifty-three minutes in time.

Felix Laband’s The Soft White Hand is the masterwork of an artist who expresses himself through musical and artistic collage acting together to reinterpret his sources and to express significant elements of his own personal story.

Released by Munich-based Compost Records, the 14-track album is Laband’s first full-length offering since the critically acclaimed Deaf Safari in 2015. It is heralded by the single “Derek and Me”, and is being pressed on vinyl for distribution globally.

In The Soft White Hand Laband works with source materials that will be familiar to those who know his previous four records – Thin Shoes in June (2001), 4/4 Down the Stairs (2002), Dark Days Exit (2005) and especially Deaf Safari which reached deep into the South Africa scene and its political culture to inspire its vocal and music sampling. However, the disengagement he felt from his homeland during his latest album’s creation – an abiding sense of untethered-ness to place and space, exquisitely rendered in tracks like “Death of a Migrant” – is perceptible in Laband’s desire to illuminate instead aspects of his own life.

“For this album, my source material became almost autobiographical as opposed to African statements I’ve worked with previously,” says the artist. “I have sampled a lot from documentaries from the 80s crack epidemic in impoverished African American communities and believe my work speaks unapologetically for the lost and marginalised, for those who are the forgotten casualties of the war on drugs. In the past, I have had my issues with substance abuse, and I know first-hand about the nightmares and fears, what it feels like to be isolated and abandoned.”

Few artists have managed to air these intimate aspects of their life so luminously as Laband does in tracks like “5 Seconds Ago”, “They Call Me Shorty” and in the strange and meditative “Dreams of Loneliness”. “I’ve been building this weird, autobiographical story using other people talking. It’s kind of humorous but it is also sad and beautiful,” says Laband.

Yet, as in all of Laband’s recorded output, the delineations between emotions are never starkly drawn and The Soft White Hand is also shot through with beauty. Nature appears in recordings made in his garden in the intimate early morning hours, whether as in the calls of the Hadada Ibis and other birdsong in “Prelude” or of the vertical-tail-cocking bird in “Derek and Me”. The last is a wonderful track with Derek Gripper, the South African experimental classical guitarist of international renown, whose 2020 song “Fanta and Felix” imagines a meeting between Fanta Sacko and Laband.

Laband’s eloquence in reinterpreting classical composers such as Beethoven in “We Know Major Tom’s a Junkie” is another thrilling aspect of the new record. “I’ve been properly exploring classical music on this album,” explains Laband, “taking melodies from classical compositions and reinterpreting them”. A fresh quality comes to his work through this sonic adventuring: the tender manipulation of the mundaneness of the computer’s AI voice to reimagine and reinvent iconic lyrics and melodies in strange and unexpected configurations.

The Soft White Hand is Laband’s most cohesive body of work to date. Yet it remains, in its sheer artistic scope, impossible to describe fully. Darkness abuts the gossamer light. A song that summons the sunrise and all the hope of a new day could also be about the final dipping down of the sun that portends a troubled night ahead. Interludes are invitations to expand outwards or shift inwards. Mistakes and “weird fuckups” in the sound are cherished as convincing statements against what Laband calls the “grossness” of perfect sound in modern music.

For this world-leading electronic artist, the boundaries are unfixed. He is inspired by the German Dada artist, Hannah Höch, who memorably declared: “I wish to blur the firm boundaries which we self-certain people tend to delineate around all we can achieve.” His music consequently reflects a primal artistic impulse that is also visible in Laband’s considerable visual art output as seen recently in several solo exhibitions such as that held in the No End Gallery in Johannesburg in 2019 and in the works he produced during his 2018 Nirox Foundation Artists Residency. “My music is always about collage, as is my art,’’ he affirms. “Everything I do is collage. It is a medium I find very interesting because you are taking history and distorting it and changing its meaning and turning it upside down and back to front.” In her book Recollections of My Non-Existence, Rebecca Solnit calls collage “literally a border art”; it is “an art of what happens when two things confront each other or spill onto each other”.

With The Soft White Hand, Laband is confirming his singular ability to achieve this in both art and music, melting the divisions between the two creative disciplines until they become one. He is also affirming his belief that an album of music should be more than a collection of unrelated tracks, but should unfold a fully integrated, cohesive story as in the song cycles of the great classical composers. In doing so, he claims his position as one of the most significant artists working today.

Artist Statement – Felix Laband – August 2022

When the Khmer Rouge took their captives for processing, they identified their class enemies by looking at their hands. If they were sunburned, rough and calloused, they were those of a peasant, a proletarian to be spared. But if they were soft and white, then they were those of a city-dweller, an intellectual or bourgeois, an adversary to be liquidated.

In calling this album The Soft White Hand, I was reflecting on the Cambodian genocide and how it resonates in contemporary South Africa. The apartheid era is over, and gone with it is white political domination. Yet economic and social privilege is still held in soft white hands. But those who grasp it know just how tenuous is their hold, how it singles them out, and my music reflects their subconscious fears, the stress and guilt of clinging on to what others envy and desire.

The soft white hand of the title suggests to me a further image, one that relates to all of postcolonial Africa. In my mind’s eye, I see the soft, duplicitous handshake of the smooth representatives of the superpowers making deals and promising gifts that benefit only them, and not their African dupes.
Yet, soaring above the wailing of sirens sampled from the first day of the invasion of Ukraine, my music is also about love gained and passion lost. It is about the tender caress of a soft white hand that conducts you into a place of dreams to be enfolded by nocturnal melodies.

Independent record label YGAM presents "Les Bergers du Galetas", Magnétisme Animal's debut EP, in which they share their intimate view of society. 

Formed by brg and Catartsis, the French duo invites the listeners to dive into a journey through the density of the modern metropolis. In a time of materialistic fetishism, where superficial occurrences and capitalism rule, the 4-track EP acts in opposition to these current matters. However, rather than trying to create a contrasting sonic landscape, Magnétisme Animal use sounds recorded in their environment to elaborate pieces that bear the heavy and frenetic industrial atmosphere of our urban sceneries. All sorts of clanging metal, steam discharge, electromagnetic static noise, train rails frictions, sirens and distant traffic, are combined with breathing, footsteps and vocal humming to create an oddly industrial as much as organic soundscape. The EP starts with a noise track that recalls some of the compositional processes of musique concrète, to then slowly drifts towards rhythmically oriented pieces. "Être c’est être coincé", with its ponderous bass and distortion work, appears as a peculiar blending of noise and techno, while "L’Enthousiasme des statues" displays a more traditional and dance floor approach to rhythm and drums, but still leaves space for an uncanny sound decor to unfold. The project ends with "La Toute-Toute", a repetitive ambient track filled with subtle sounds, where one can wander as spoken words underline a sense of melancholy. "Les Bergers du Galetas" is an unsettling industrial tapestry, a strange study of noises, that depicts the contemporary frenzy of the artists’ environments they referred to as the urban jungle. A landscape where one is a witness of the disparity of human conditions, where mind and body coexist with difficulty, where one is subject to conformism, where one is lost in the smog while carried by the masses through the cemented maze.

When Kompakt came across Amsterdam-based Harm Coolen and Merijn Schotte Albers aka WEVAL back in 2014, we were blown away when we heard their slow-burning, darkly emotive tracks.

Their debut EP 'Half Age' on Atomnation featured painfully intimate and surprisingly kinetic electronic chamber pop that convinced us they were a perfect fit in Kompakt's family. Following two widely acclaimed EPs for Kompakt and playing numerous festivals including DGTL, Reeperbahn, Iceland Airwaves and Piknic Electronik, we now see the two tackle their self-titled debut full-length WEVAL. What you have before you is not a mere collection of tracks, but a complete listening experience with organic flow, emotional heft and a narrative thread.
Smitten with WEVAL's uniquely personal and catchy approach to producing dark electronic music, it didn't take much to win us over... and so came WEVAL's acclaimed 2014 label debut EASIER EP (KOMPAKT 318), followed by the bold and beautiful 2015 offering IT'LL BE JUST FINE / GROW UP (KOMPAKT 344) which saw the two soundsmiths digging deeper into the granularities of electronic funk than ever before. However, Harm and Merijn's music - while astonishingly fully-formed even in its earliest stages - always seemed destined for more, a bigger format, more space to explore the nooks and crannies of their rapidly evolving sound cosmos. Simply put, they needed to think about an album and their beloved living room studio wasn't cutting it anymore.
An old school building became WEVAL's new home, repurposed to house small creative businesses - but in the summer of 2015, it was abandoned most of the time, with everybody out in the sun while our heroes turned the building's attic into a sweet spot to make some noise, have 24-hour access and lose track of time. And apart from a sketchy tenant being evicted, the occasional soccer game with friends and live gigs across Europe, there really was no interruption to the focussed vibe. It's not like they were looking for distraction anyway: "working on the album all by ourselves in this bloody hot attic was all we had on our mind", the artists admit. And they decided that their album shouldn't sound too clean: "We try to find the beauty in imperfection. It makes things sound more human".
Weval draw their inspirations from no single genre of music but a cumulation of music that inspires them. The results present an astonishingly coherent vision - cuts like the dramatic THE BATTLE, bass growler I DON'T NEED IT or the trippy epic MADNESS share the same DNA of zestful nostalgia, a knack for immersive sound-sculpting and that certain kink in the groove. They also feed on deeply personal experiences and moods, as exemplified by the haunting electronic ballad YOU'RE MINE, the carefully layered, polaroid-tinted JUST IN CASE or the beautifully voiced closer YEARS TO BUILD. And sometimes, it's just an old, out-of-tune piano that stands in the hallway: "Whenever I'd pass by it, I couldn't resist playing it", says Merijn, "so Harm decided to start recording and it became an integral part of YOU MADE IT (PART I)". No doubt about it: this is WEVAL's most powerful and organic material yet - which means a lot, considering the amount of skill already on display in their small, but weighty portfolio.
(de) Als sich 2014 in Amsterdam Kompakts Wege mit denen von Harm Coolen und Merijn Schotte Albers aka WEVAL kreuzten, waren wir sofort Feuer und Flamme für ihre schwelenden, emotional aufgeladenen Tracks. Ihre Debüt-EP "Half Age" auf Atomnation präsentierte intimen und überraschend kinetischen, elektronischen Kammer-Pop, der wie angegossen zu Kompakt zu passen schien. Nach zwei vielbeachteten EPs auf dem Label und einer Reihe von Festvialgigs (inklusive DGTL, Reeperbahn Festival, Iceland Airwaves und Piknic Electronik) nehmen Weval nun mit dem gleichnamigen Release ihr erstes Album in Angriff. Und legen dabei nicht einfach nur eine Ansammlung von Tracks vor, sondern kreieren eine komplette Hörerfahrung mit organischem Flow, emotionalem Gewicht und einm roten Faden.
Angetan vom einzigartig persönlichen und mitreissend düsteren Klang WEVALs brauchte es nicht viel um uns zu überzeugen... und so kam es 2014 zum gefeierten Labeldebüt EASIER EP (KOMPAKT 318), gefolgt vom kühnen und wunderschönen 2015er Release IT'LL BE JUST FINE / GROW UP (KOMPAKT 344), für das die beiden Soundtüftler tiefer denn je in die Granularitäten des elektronischen Funks abtauchten. Nichtsdestotrotz - und obwohl sie schon von Anfang an ausgereift klang - schien die Musik von Harm und Merijn auf dem 12"-Format stets bestimmt für mehr: mehr Freiraum um auch die äussersten Winkel ihres rapide expandierenden Soundkosmos zu erkunden. Sie mussten schlichtweg zum Langspielformat wechseln, und ihr heissgeliebtes Wohnzimmerstudio konnte da nicht mehr mithalten.
Ein altes Schulgebäude wurde schliesslich WEVALs neues Zuhause, umfunktioniert für kleine Kreativunternehmen - doch im heissen Sommer 2015 stand es zumeist leer, da alle draussen in der Sonne badeten, während unsere Helden im Schweisse ihres Angesichts das Kellergeschoss in ein lärmfestes Aufnahmestudio verwandelten. Mit Studiozugang rund um die Uhr liess es sich bestens die Zeit vergessen. Und abgesehen von der Räumung eines zwielichtigen Nebenmieters, dem gelegentlichen Fussballspiel mit Freunden und natürlich Live-Gigs in ganz Europa, gab es auch keine Ablenkungen vom hochkonzentrierten Kreativfluss. Ablenkungen, die das Duo ohnehin nicht suchte: "ganz allein in diesem verdammt heissen Keller am Album arbeiten war alles, was wir im Sinn hatten", geben die Künstler zu. Und sie entschieden sich, dass ihr Album nicht zu sauber klingen sollte: "Wir versuchen die Schönheit im Makel zu finden. Es lässt die Dinge einfach menschlicher wirken."
Weval beziehen ihre Inspiration nicht aus einem einzelnen musikalischen Genre, sondern eher aus einer Akkumulation von Musik, die sie inspiriert. Die Ergebnisse zeichnet eine beeindruckend kohärente Vision aus - Aufnahmen wie das dramatische THE BATTLE, der Bassknurrer I DON'T NEED IT oder die Trip-Saga MADNESS teilen diesselbe DNA aus schwungvoller Nostalgie, einer Schwäche für immersive Klangschnitzerei und einer gewissen Delle im Groove. Sie nähren sich auch aus zutiefst persönlichen Erfahrungen und Stimmungen, wie zum Beispiel bei der eindringlichen elektronischen Ballade YOU'RE MINE, dem vorsichtig geschichteten, polaroid-gefärbten JUST IN CASE oder dem wunderschön gesungenen Schlussakt YEARS TO BUILD. Und manchmal ist es nur ein altes, verstimmtes Klavier, das im Flur herumsteht: "Immer wenn ich dran vorbei lief, musste ich darauf herumklimpern", erklärt Merijn, "also wurde es ein zentraler Bestandteil von YOU MADE IT (PART I)". Kein Zweifel: dies ist WEVAL's stärkstes und organischstes Material bisher - was durchaus was bedeutet, wenn man das Talent bedenkt welches bereits in schmalen, doch gewichtigen Portfolio der Band steckt.