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Unlike anything we have heard from her before, Okkyung Lee returns to Shelter Press with "Just Like Any Other Day: Background Music For Your Mundane Activities", a deeply intimate body of recordings at the juncture of ambient music, minimalism, and the baroque, that stands as radical intervention with what experimental music can be, and the place that organisations of sound occupy in our lives. For more than two decades, Okkyung Lee has stood at the forefront of the most radical trajectories of experimental music: a virtuosic cellist and improviser, renowned for her creative rigour and emotive depth. Particularly noteworthy for her range, dexterity, and adaptability, over the last five years Lee's output has revealed unexpected shifts and developments that move far afield from the realms of free improvisation for which she is most well known. 2020's "Yeo - Neun", a heart-wrenching, ambient chamber work - drawing inspiration from the Korean popular music of her youth - was issued by Shelter Press to great critical response, followed closely by "Teum (The Silvery Slit)" - one of a series engrossing electroacoustic works created at Groupe de Recherches Musicales in Paris - on Portraits GRM, and then "Na-Reul" in 2021, regarded by Lee as a closing statement of more than two decades living in New York, which set the precedent of her allowing her emotions to fully occupy the forefront of the music for the first time. Marking her return to Shelter press, "Just Like Any Other Day": Background Music For Your Mundane Activities", encounters Lee upturning the apple cart once again, weaving a profoundly intimate artistic statement on completely unexpected terms. Like its three aforementioned predecessors, "Just Like Any Other Day" belongs to broadening shift in Lee's approach to composing that roughly aligns with her return to her native South Korea, having lived in the United States since her late teens. Infused with a deep reengagement with her own culture and relationship to memory, it is equally a response to those critical challenges and questions provoked by significant life change. Worked on in isolation, and continuously returned to, over the course of four years, the album's nine pieces began with a simple recognition that experimental music is not always what we imagine it to be. It is a practice and a pursuit - a music for which, at its inception, the outcome is unknown - rather than an idiom defined by certain syntaxes, approaches, and qualities of structure and sound. From this departure point, Lee began to inquire after the utility of music itself: what is it for, what does it do, and what place does it (or can it) occupy in our lives? This solitary and durational journey, each composition gradually moving through different phases and evolutions over years, led Lee toward uncharted ground: a music that is not only playful, introspective, and seductive, but also intended to provoke a relationship to experimental music beyond its normative expectations. Rather active or deep listening, it pursues passive listening. Rather than a grand statement, it is discreet. Rather than virtuosity, it embraces the elegant and direct. Even more strikingly, for the first time, the music of "Just Like Any Other Day" encounters Lee leaving the cello entirely behind. Created at home on keyboard, computer, and an inexpensive cassette recorder, "Just Like Any Other Day" presents a remarkable form of ambient music - organisations of sound that become their own environment, to be occupied - intended, as the album's subheading infers, as Background Music For Your Mundane Activities. An expansion of the creative pathways opened by the Korean pop imbued compositions of Yeo - Neun, aspects of electronic process explored by "Teum (The Silvery Slit)", and the emotive foregrounding of "Na-Reul", each of the pieces presented across the two sides of "Just Like Any Other Day" implies something far greater than the limits of its own temporarily: a mood, provocations of memory and place, mirrors for the solitude within which it was made, and palpable emotion lingering just out of grasp. For Lee, each of the album's compositions could be continued or looped for an indeterminate duration: straddling a ground between the minimal and the baroque, enveloping the listener in endless cycles of appreciating, repetitive and rhythmical notes, flirting with the melodic and implying a disembodied imagism that borders on the profound. Remarkably beautiful and direct, Okkyung Lee's "Just Like Any Other Day: Background Music For Your Mundane Activities" - issued by Shelter Press on vinyl - represents a radical reconfiguration of experiential music, stripped to its bare essence in defiance of the widely presumed aesthetic signifiers. Unlike anything we've heard from her before, this immersive body of intimate recordings not only reveals new dimensions of Lee's striking range as an artist, but also of how we might regard and occupy music itself: an ambience to lived and felt like a second skin.

Off The Record (faitiche 39), the new album by French collagist Roméo Poirier, is an amusing romp through the discarded history of recording studios. It contains fourteen miniatures based on accidental recordings of studio talk, revealing things that were never meant for the public: we hear instructions from studio staff, scraps of talk between musicians, or just microphones being adjusted, as well as false notes, false starts: everyone stops. Start again: 1, 2, 3, 4!

Poirier’s approach recalls Accumulation, an artform practiced by Arman, Jean Tinguely and Daniel Spoerri that involved piling up everyday items into assemblages. The objects themselves often remained unaltered, the artistic gesture consisting in the careful curating of a distinctive selection. Poirier’s audio collages explore similar terrain. The fourteen pieces on Off the Record combine more than a thousand found sounds from studio archives into complex miniatures. The audio content of these outtakes is twisted, stretched, cut, reassembled, slowed down and accelerated. Voices cut into a microgroove, from a very old recording, intertwine with digital voices gleaned from YouTube. All of them in dialogue, engaging the listener with the impression of being part of a new music group.

Poirier uses the mundane routine of setting up before the actual recording gets underway to tell a universal story about working in a recording studio. And he manages something few achieve, transforming specialist knowledge into a narrative whose beauty goes far beyond its immediate subject. It speaks to everyone, because the story is told in a musical language that is open and accessible, evoking magical images reminiscent of Oz – a world consisting less of events than of camp hallucinations, captured in grainy black-and-white photographs. En passant, Poirier shows us how the notion of material accumulation can produce great art.

Written and produced by Roméo Poirier, mastered by Stephan Mathieu, photos by Roméo Poirier, graphic design by Tim Tetzner.

"Astral Americana hymns hovering somewhere between the dirt and the stars" Pitchfork

"Mood music for moments of solitude, best experienced without distraction" The Times

"Overwhelmingly effective and ravishingly beautiful" The Wire

American Dust is an ode to the beauty of the American Southwest, where vast desert landscapes hold stories both stark and tender. Eve Adams’ characteristic folk noir weaves a vivid tapestry of love, sacrifice and quiet revelation, conjuring images of dust storms, stray dogs and far off trains.

The high desert of California is a vast and confounding place. Equally inspiring as it is punishing, it’s a landscape that carries magic in its deep dark nights, holding stories both tender and stark in the coarse layer of dust that settles upon everything. It’s long been a source of inspiration for musicians, writers, and painters, each of them adding to the same current, carried forward over time, through hope and hardship and the passing years.

Somewhere out there in that broad and boundless landscape, Eve Adams has been living her own desert life, quietly writing the follow-up to 2021’s Metal Bird LP. Where that album sang of liminal space, the dream-like turbulence of Hollywood’s golden age, American Dust is far more rooted in traditional storytelling; a eulogy for the American Dream channeled through that sweeping part of the country that holds such power and mystery. Slipping into different and varied costumes throughout its ten songs, it finds Eve not just observing the people around her but stepping into their shoes and peeling back the layers of their quiet lives.

Adams writes from within. A few years ago she moved out there, to “the middle of nowhere”, finding a slowness that didn’t exist in the city, and she knows only too well about the mystical nature of the land and those who live within it. Weaving together themes of grit and romance, American Dust holds its focus on the bittersweet poetry of lives lived in solitude, most notably the women who sustain life at the center of it all. “There’s something very radical about domestic life,” Adams says of this thread. “So many women live their entire lives behind closed doors, completely in the shadows. Within those lives is such sacrifice, devotion, and love. I wanted to honor that: the poetry in the mundane, the longing in the repetition. The way love survives boredom and dust and time.”

Eve is joined on American Dust by Canadian musician Bryce Cloghesy, aka Military Genius of Crack Cloud, who plays throughout and also helped produce the album. Musically bold and vivid, it’s an ambitious and detailed stride forward from what’s come before, the scope of the LP’s narrative reflected in the radiant sweep of the playing. On top of gentle piano and guitar, gorgeous strings drift through the album, lending the songs a woozy sense of romanticism; a collaboration with Gamaliel Traynor (Cello) and Caroline’s Oliver Hamilton (Violin).

For all the drama that’s coiled around these songs, it’s the recurring notion of love and hope fighting against everything that holds true throughout American Dust. Musically it’s lush and vibrant, intimate and cinematic side by side, and always bursting with warmth. But it’s what it holds in its weary bones that elevates it to something truly special, something more than just a collection of songs penned in the heart of the desert. The characters it speaks of, and from, feel shadowed but wholly real, like they’re bursting to share their stories that have remained hidden for years and years and they allow Eve Adams to grow as a songwriter right in front of our eyes.

“The same swirling dust that clung to the covered wagons of my ancestors as they crossed the Great American Desert is the same dust my great-great-grandmother swept off her porch during the Dust Bowl of 1936 in Oklahoma, is the same dust that blows in through the cracks in my windows here in the desert, carrying stories from a time long gone,” Eve says, reflecting on the personal narrative that runs through her new album.

“It’s not just dust—it’s American Dust, the kind that settles into the bones of a family and never leaves. I think about that dust as a symbol of the passage of time. I hope this album will be part of that same current, carrying forward for the next generations of my family to find. I’ve been lucky enough to have journals and poetry from my ancestors that documents their lives during times of pure hope and pure hardship. I’d like to think of this album as a contribution to that family history.”

Limited edition of 1000 copies on dark green vinyl. The gutter-scraped amalgamation of sludge, punk, noise, and bracing wit of Pissed Jeans is back on full display in "No Convenient Apocalypse," a new single release and first material since Why Love Now, the group's acclaimed album of 2017. "No Convenient Apocalypse" was originally recorded for the Cyberpunk 2077 video game soundtrack. The b-side to the physical single is "Bathroom Laughter (Live in Allentown)". Pissed Jeans is currently at work on the follow-up to Why Love Now, an album that took aim at the mundane discomforts of modern life-from fetish webcams to office-supply deliveries. "_ One of our era's best punk bands." - SPIN "Another blast of full-fury guitar rock." - Billboard

Black Hole Superette, the latest album from Aesop Rock, delves into the invisible forces that shape our lives and psyches. It's about the small, often overlooked moments_the everyday experiences that blur the lines between the real and the unreal, waking and sleeping. Aesop's signature gift for transforming the mundane into something dreamlike gives the album a surreal quality, leaving listeners questioning what's truly real as they navigate its vivid, half-remembered imagery. Entirely self-produced, Black Hole Superette is one of Aesop Rock's most technically accomplished works to date. The album's intricate beats and complex structures provide the perfect backdrop for his expansive lyricism, balancing cerebral exploration with emotional depth. From the reflective 'Movie Night' and the eccentric 'Send Help' to the wistful 'Black Plums,' Aesop channels the spirit of a mad scientist, experimenting with sound and concept in ways that defy the ordinary. With a stellar lineup of collaborators that includes Lupe Fiasco, Armand Hammer, Hanni El Khatib, Open Mike Eagle and Homeboy Sandman, Black Hole Superette is dense and kinetic, an album that deftly navigates between complexity and instinct. It's clear this project stands as one of Aesop Rock's most multifaceted and ambitious works yet.

A Colourful Storm proudly presents a remastered first-time vinyl editions of Lone Capture Library's modern-day DIY environmental masterpiece, All Natures Most Mundane Materials. "Environmental"? While this certainly wasn't recorded for dinner party ambience nor was it commissioned by Harrods, it does document a haphazard wander through the English countryside, feeling the air and the earth, detaching oneself from confinement and attempting to make sense of it all. Its protagonist is Rory Salter, London's restless improvisor extraordinaire, who has contributed to dozens of solo and collaborative releases in an ecosystem branched from his Infant Tree private press. Under his alias Malvern Brume, he is responsible for some of the most enchanting sides of contemporary concrète that's graced our ears: dérives revealing beauty and curiosity within London's urban banality. And while we'd argue that Lone Capture Library applies this approach but seeks the peculiar within the pastoral, there also lies a certain hermetic recklessness, with its disruptive details and discarded sonic bric-a-brac.

"I'd walked from Swindon to Avebury and back, which is about a 21-mile round trip. I'd been a muppet and did the whole thing down the A4361, which is not a road suitable for walking on - there was a lot of jumping into the hedges to avoid lorries. Turned out, there was a really nice walk across the fields I could have done instead. But maybe that sums it up quite well. Instinctive and very impulsive. The day following, I was at home and recorded it in single takes, improvised and straight to the tape. There was a good deal of significance for me in walking to the stones, passing the Hackpen Horse, being in the landscape and dealing with some brain rot after being stuck in a house, anxious and depressed. There was a sense of freedom and detachment. It was all about the materials of the earth and the body and fucking the brain off for a bit - just wanting to move between places. I dunno, it's all very cliché."

Black Hole Superette, the latest album from Aesop Rock, delves into the invisible forces that shape our lives and psyches. It's about the small, often overlooked moments_the everyday experiences that blur the lines between the real and the unreal, waking and sleeping. Aesop's signature gift for transforming the mundane into something dreamlike gives the album a surreal quality, leaving listeners questioning what's truly real as they navigate its vivid, half-remembered imagery. Entirely self-produced, Black Hole Superette is one of Aesop Rock's most technically accomplished works to date. The album's intricate beats and complex structures provide the perfect backdrop for his expansive lyricism, balancing cerebral exploration with emotional depth. From the reflective 'Movie Night' and the eccentric 'Send Help' to the wistful 'Black Plums,' Aesop channels the spirit of a mad scientist, experimenting with sound and concept in ways that defy the ordinary. With a stellar lineup of collaborators that includes Lupe Fiasco, Armand Hammer, Hanni El Khatib, Open Mike Eagle and Homeboy Sandman, Black Hole Superette is dense and kinetic, an album that deftly navigates between complexity and instinct. It's clear this project stands as one of Aesop Rock's most multifaceted and ambitious works yet.

Swiss saxophonist Gilles Torrent, perhaps known from our recent Spiritual Jazz collection 'A Tribute to 'Trane', leads the way with his new album 'Buleria'; a mesmerizing set of modal jazz pieces that will speak directly to any listener who has felt the other-worldly depths of John Coltrane. The album comprises of Torrent originals and explorations of Coltrane standards. It reaches for something beyond the mundane, and blends complex harmonic structures with raw, improvisational energy.

The Torrent original, 'Danse Tropical', opens the set with a contemplative tone. Led by a sax that pulls the listener through a maze of scales and modes, the rhythm section remains steady, creating a grounding space for exploration.

'Quannassa' drives the energy forward, and the band moves seamlessly through shifting tensions as Torrent's saxophone searches for answers within a pantheon of harmonic structures.

The standout track, "Buleria" is a daring 8-minute piece, with an evolving, meditative flamenco piece that showcases the saxophonist's raw improvisational skill, a spiritual journey that takes us to the windswept plains of Iberia.

The quartet is a faithful tribute to classic modal jazz, with the interplay between piano, bass, and drums feeling natural and organic. They provide a harmonic foundation that encourages the saxophone to glide and soar, pushing into new emotional territory, going from tender and melodic to fiery and free. This interplay gives the album its distinctive feel - while drawing from Coltrane's influence, it's clear the musicians are searching for something new, something personal.

All Demilich demo material plus recordings from 2006 in a snappy double LP package. Compiled together with the band, this is the ultimate Demilich demo compilation. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries.

All Demilich demo material plus recordings from 2006 in a snappy double LP package. Compiled together with the band, this is the ultimate Demilich demo compilation. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries.

This authorised vinyl reissue of the ultimate Finnish death metal cult LP comes with the original cover art and all the lyrics. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries. Demilich was like finding a submerged city, or discovering a new path through the mountains, or even confronting a glowering enemy on the open plain. It brought risk, uncertainty, ambiguity and a sense of sublime beauty back to death metal, pulling it away from the slump in which it treated itself as a hammer and every listener as a nail.

This authorised vinyl reissue of the ultimate Finnish death metal cult LP comes with the original cover art and all the lyrics. In the late days of the early life of death metal in the early nineties, the death metal "community" had strayed from an appreciation of the majestic possibilities of sound, and were making a mundane product instead. They wanted the most "brutal" sound so the largest crowd could hear it, consider themselves "extreme," and go back to work with a hangover. This made the music escape its tiny audience, but killed off exploration as well. In addition, it was defensive and under-confident, feeling its chops lagged behind the rock, blues and jazz genres. Stagnation struck even as the genre accelerated. Enter the dark horse, Demilich. These inventive Finns reintroduced amazement at the possibilities of music. Where most people look at a forest and see wood for sale, a death metal fan after Demilich sees an intricate organism in itself, with the smallest details corresponding to the broadest concepts. The labyrinthine riffs of Demilich corresponded to a worldview that saw the connection between details as a design, and a design as conferring a purpose to life, cycling between birth and death as it spelled out the cryptic intricacies of ancient mysteries. Demilich was like finding a submerged city, or discovering a new path through the mountains, or even confronting a glowering enemy on the open plain. It brought risk, uncertainty, ambiguity and a sense of sublime beauty back to death metal, pulling it away from the slump in which it treated itself as a hammer and every listener as a nail.

Faun Fables, the long-running collaboration between Dawn McCarthy and Nils Frykdahl, have returned with Counterclockwise, the follow-up to 2016"s Born of the Sun. With the longest space between albums in the band"s twenty-seven year history, the nature of time and experience spent raising a family and negotiating life"s changes have much to do with the incredible listening companion Faun Fables have gifted us here. Counterclockwise"s songs and production are the most encompassing, richly lived-in sonic world of their seven full-length albums. From start to finish, it is an exquisitely etched portrait of their aesthetic and worldview: colourfully studded with fine-hewed jewels of song, tinged with the traditional sounds of past and future nations. Their timeless "songtelling" practice is entwined with a holistic view of a life in music - embracing and celebrating the mundane details of home, partnering and family, elevated by a mystical and fantastical perspective. The new discovery here is their creative relationship with time.

Stereogum: »Here’s a cool new musical project that feels both out-there and extremely mundane. In 2022, the great Colorado experimentalist M. Sage teamed up with Lieven Martens (Dolphins into the Future) under the name Sage Martens. Their album, »Riding Fences«, was an ambient classical exercise designed to explore the idea of ›Western‹ music. They’re back this year with another conceptual offering (...)«

»Chamber Music for Lawn Mowers« is the second album by Sage Martens. This time, Matthew Sage (RVNG, Fuubutsushi) and Lieven Martens (Edições CN, Dolphins into the Future) sing the lawn.

Did you know a clean-cut lawn is a desire we inherited from the British?

Yes, the British dumped this pleasure into our collective consciousness. Those humorless Victorians who enjoyed having their black pudding on the lawn. They came to this uninspired impression while mis-looking at Italian paintings. Yes indeed, while gazing at these paintings they mistook green lanes for green lawns. Thus it became hip. Every stuffed truffle commanded his gardener to cut the grass.

As a result, this Victorian lust for sterile gardens with pretty green lawns nudged our world into water spillage and pesticide clouds. This new priority produced exhaust clouds and prudish monocultural landscapes. Just by looking at Italian paintings.

As with most of Western history, the practice was exported to America and then turbocharged. By shearing clear the prolific brush of pastures, prairies, forests and glens, biodiversity becomes an aesthetic casualty with long-suffering ecological ripples. An inherited practice narrows the bandwidth of experience.

And so, the childhood habit of humming along in key to the drone of a gas-powered mower while trimming a suburban lawn extrapolates into something expanded — an unanswered question about the harmonics of landscape practices.

M. Sage: Bb clarinet, alto saxophone, sine wave, lawn mowing, processing L. Martens: computer, analog synthesis, digital processing With W. Van Gils: lawn mowing

Lael Neale's minimalist drone pop draws inspiration from the Transcendentalists, the alienation of modern life, and a rich array of musical influences-ranging from Dionne Warwick and John Lennon to primitive American gospel and Spacemen 3. Her expansive new record, Altogether Stranger, due May 2, was written and recorded in the early morning quiet of Los Angeles. Clocking in at just 32 minutes, the 9-song LP covers an unexpected breadth of musical and lyrical terrain-from garage rock nursery rhymes and creation myths to Motorik dance dirges and solitary Omnichord meditations. A brilliant lyricist, Neale has a unique ability to uncover the extraordinary within the mundane, tackling themes of polarity that recur throughout her work-country vs. city, humanity vs. technology, isolation vs. society. This album is her third collaboration with producer Guy Blakeslee who helps expand the tonal palette while staying true to Neale's commitment to the raw immediacy and hand-made intimacy of home recording. Altogether Stranger - a stunning album filled with dreamlike reverie, Neale's crystalline voice, and echoes of the Velvet Underground - was conceived after four years of oscillating between rural solitude and urban chaos. It finds Neale perched at the piano in a hilltop bungalow, looking down on a rare curve of Sunset Blvd. Here, in this daily ritual of writing, singing, and painting-what David Lynch referred to as "the Art Life"-she creates the space for her most adventurous work to date. Born and raised in Virginia's idyllic countryside, Neale brought the high-lonesome sound of her home state with her when she moved to California to pursue music. After years of writing songs on guitar and playing small venues in Los Angeles, she discovered the Omnichord in 2019, which sparked a new creative direction. This led to her 2021 Sub Pop debut album, Acquainted With Night. That album's 2023 follow-up, Star Eaters Delight, deepened the collaboration with Blakeslee, infusing minimalist soundscapes with a heightened electric energy. The album found a devoted audience, and Neale's subsequent tour included sold-out shows in Los Angeles, New York City, London, and Paris, multiple trips across Europe, and a West Coast run supporting kindred spirit Weyes Blood. This marked yet another return to Los Angeles. Indeed, Los Angeles is not just the backdrop of Altogether Stranger but a lead character. The album's accompanying film - created with Neale's faithful Sony Handycam - builds on her ongoing series of videos, telling the story of Neale as an alien in a suit of mirrors stranded on Earth. Wandering through modern-day LA, she finds both absurdity and beauty in our fragile, untenable way of life. Over the long year it took to write Altogether Stranger, Neale vacillated between childlike optimism and existential melancholy. While she may not have been able to reconcile these opposing states, Altogether Stranger represents an ambitious breakthrough for this singular, self-sufficient artist.

Blurring the lines between the mundane and the mystical, ESKA’s latest album, ‘The Ordinary Life of a Magic Woman’, is a profound exploration of motherhood, artistry, and the delicate dance between daily rhythms and creative transcendence. For ESKA, these aren’t opposing forces—they’re inseparable threads in a richly woven life.

“It’s the sound of a first-generation, middle-aged African British woman living in post-everything Southeast London,” ESKA reflects.

After two decades of trailblazing collaborations with world-renowned artists – Moses Sumney, Grace Jones, Radiohead and Baxter Dury, to name a few - along with various accolades - including a Mercury Prize Nomination, ESKA’s new album stands as her most personal and compelling work yet. A self-directed journey, it sees her embracing her ultimate creative partner: herself.

Rooted in her eclectic musical upbringing, ESKA pulls inspiration from the sounds and influences that have defined her journey, breaking free of conventional boundaries. The result is a body of work that defies easy categorisation—bold, dynamic, and unmistakably hers.

Blurring the lines between the mundane and the mystical, ESKA’s latest album, ‘The Ordinary Life of a Magic Woman’, is a profound exploration of motherhood, artistry, and the delicate dance between daily rhythms and creative transcendence. For ESKA, these aren’t opposing forces—they’re inseparable threads in a richly woven life.

“It’s the sound of a first-generation, middle-aged African British woman living in post-everything Southeast London,” ESKA reflects.

After two decades of trailblazing collaborations with world-renowned artists – Moses Sumney, Grace Jones, Radiohead and Baxter Dury, to name a few - along with various accolades - including a Mercury Prize Nomination, ESKA’s new album stands as her most personal and compelling work yet. A self-directed journey, it sees her embracing her ultimate creative partner: herself.

Rooted in her eclectic musical upbringing, ESKA pulls inspiration from the sounds and influences that have defined her journey, breaking free of conventional boundaries. The result is a body of work that defies easy categorisation—bold, dynamic, and unmistakably hers.

If Hawalat sounds like a world tour that’s because it essentially is. “As much as Marzipan is a picture of Lebanon from the inside, Hawalat kind of picks up from where Marzipan finished but more looking to the outside, the diaspora, to the notion of exile.” Megarbane says he is interested in the connections between the global and the domestic, the mundane and the cosmic, and wanted to create space for non-linear progression.

Hawalat is based on the idea of hawala, informal money transfers that you can make to certain countries impacted by a lack of currency or unstable political and economic contexts. His use of the term on this album is not a financial one, Megarbane explains, but a nod to notions of creative exchange between “places, persons, generations.” It is the first time Megarbane called on other musicians in this way to inform his sound, including a collaboration with Sven Wunder on the song Helia featuring strings by the Stockholm Studio Orchestra.

The album opens with first single Hanadi, a punchy Somali-inspired track with warm non-lexical vocals and saxophone. It immediately pivots to the Dreams of an Insomniac, which balances soft, effortless vocals and keys with urgent violin intrusions. Al Dollarji feels like Megarbane’s bread and butter, that is Mediterranean sounds with intricate strings, while Al Bahriye takes this staple and introduces hip hop inflections. The result is a rich 17 track album that effortlessly blends genres and styles.

Including 8 page, 12" sized booklet with unseen photos and liner notes by Armani Syed.

Alternative Tentacles Records is thrilled to announce the first-ever vinyl release of two long-awaited tracks, previously available only in digital format. This highly anticipated split 7" features Jello Biafra & The Guantanamo School of Medicine and The November 3, with two explosive songs: "Blunder Blubber" and "IFAR." "Blunder Blubber," originally released as a digital single to mark Rush Limbaugh's passing and was recorded during the TEA PARTY REVENGE PORN recording sessions, highlights everything iconic about Jello Biafra & The Guantanamo School of Medicine. The song critiques the rise of right-wing extremism, tracing its roots back to Rush Limbaugh's influence and the repeal of the Fairness Doctrine under President Reagan in 1987—a policy change that allowed one-sided political commentary on public airwaves. Biafra argues that this set the stage for the toxic media landscape, fueling figures like Limbaugh and the current wave of ""MAGA"" rhetoric. Reflecting on the political climate, Biafra notes, "I wrote the song back when Clinton was president, seeing the writing on the wall. I was hoping never to use it, but we had no choice but to update and perform it now." On the flip side, The November 3 delivers "IFAR," a fiery debut track that first dropped during the 2020 Republican National Convention. Blending punk rock energy with raw political outrage, lead vocalist Billie O' Rights unleashes a bold, biting rant, backed by Tom Pain’s searing guitars. Pat Triotte and Justice Ferrall add their creative touches to this electrifying anthem, capturing the chaotic spirit of the times. "IFAR," is a raucous, tongue-in-cheek commentary on partisan divides, clocking in at just two minutes of catchy, irreverent fun. Interestingly, the song was reportedly conceived during a mundane moment: Pat Triotte was baking blueberry muffins one Saturday afternoon when the idea hit, and within hours, the track was recorded— and the muffins were supposedly amazing. Despite the humorous and often provocative tone of both songs, the core message of this release is clear: a call to action to vote. With this limited 7" vinyl, Alternative Tentacles Records urges everyone to make their voices heard in the 2024 election and beyond! Don't forget to VOTE!

Sub Pop and Pissed Jeans mark 15 years of King of Jeans, Pissed Jeans' thunderous third album, with a fresh clear-vinyl pressing, limited to 1,000 copies. If 2005's Shallow was Pissed Jeans coping with moving out of their parents' homes, and 2007's Hope for Men their initial reaction to the mechanical lifestyle of a wage-earner, King of Jeans is their formal and uneasy acceptance of adulthood, by way of one hell of a rock record. Working with renowned producer Alex Newport (who holds a Fudge Tunnel pedigree and has worked with such luminaries as At the Drive-In, The Locust and Sepultura), Pissed Jeans have pushed further into the raw, minimal core of heavy rock music with King of Jeans. Masters of the mundane, beasts of the banal, high priests of the humdrum: these four, white, male high school graduates hardly look further than their own appendages for artistic inspiration, content to execute their own brand of brash and heavy punk music in the Joe Carducci-approved standard rock formation of guitar, bass, drums and vocals. From simple minds and simple fabrics comes this King of Jeans. And there can be only one.

Danish instrumental collective ALAWARI was founded in 2016, and rapidly garnered a name for themselves on the European jazz scene for their explosive live performances, going on to win Denmark s Young Jazz competition in the same year. A contrast to their eponymous 2022 debut - a cacophonous musical reflection of revolution - their upcoming release is an exploration of spirituality, transformation, and the totality of the human experience. Leviathan oscillates between symphonic grandeur and intimate vulnerability, with moments so delicate that every breath can be felt. In this way, the sextet aims to demonstrate that the path to the divine is found through collective unity unity-a shared experience that transcends the individual. From lamenting melodies on a solo trumpet eventually accompanied by a dense, ominous synth, to hypnotic patterns on a percussive close close-mic d saxophone, to thunderous rhythm section grooves with searing horn harmonies, ALAWARIs innovative and dynamic arrangements offer something brand new and unexpected around every corner. Despite being a six piece, the ensembles sound feels comparable to that of an orchestra or big band, combining through through-composed classical classical-influenced orchestration, intricate interlocking parts, lush waves of texture and a warm, raw, intimate production style to craft a larger larger-thanthan-life listening experience. Leviathan embarks on a profound journey, capturing the divine and spiritual forces that permeate the arts. The album serves as a vessel vessel-slowly navigating like a majestic ship or a steadfast train, embarking on a peaceful yet powerful crusade. It invites listeners to traverse a landscape of sorrow and joy, pain and exaltation, silence and intensity. Through this journey, ALAWARI aims to reveal the primordial truth: that the spirit precedes all, and that the mundane backdrop of everyday life can be transformed and painted anew, if carried by the right vessel.

Kumio Kurachi is a Japanese singer-songwriter who has been active since the 1980's.

This is his 11th solo album and only the second to be released outside of Japan following ‘Sound of Turning Earth’ (2018) on bison. Though his songs are written and performed primarily on guitar, “Open Today” is a return to Kurachi’s full, multi-instrumental recording style - featuring drums, bass, strings, keys and Kurachi’s rich, distinctive vocals in multiple voicings. Incredibly, all instrumental performances and arrangements were performed and recorded by Kurachi himself - marking a brilliant return to the fully fleshed out visionary world we fell in love with on Supermarket Chitose (Enban, 2006). The super fine detail and dense landscapes of ‘Open Today’ should come as no surprise really - Kurachi is an illustrator by trade and it bleeds right through to his music. Even to the non-native speaker Kurachi’s vocals hold centre stage - at times enormous and thundering over urgent guitar and toms, then switching to softly spoken words amongst keys. Frequently Kurachi multiplies, whether multitracking himself or summoning voices for the characters he writes from sightings on train platforms or supermarkets. His lyrics - translated to English for both formats - are more like poetry, and though written about the mundane they quickly become surreal, bringing the quality of dreams into the everyday. The hours spent on buses, trains or walking home towards a cheap flat - familiar to us all - are catalysts for microcosms of detail.

Again, we shouldn’t be surprised - Kurachi is well known in Japan for winning the national championship of NHK's "Poetry Boxing" in 2002, which also might explain his amazing Discogs photo. Poet, illustrator, multi-instrumentalist - Kurachi is thought of by many as a genius. He’s worked with Jim O’Rourke, Tori Kudo, Eiko Ishibashi and Taku Unami (who did the mastering on this LP). There are lines to be drawn between Kurachi and Kazuki Tomokawa or Kan Mikami, but also Francis Plagne and Fairport Convention.

Ultimately though there is nothing else like it - it’s a brand of strange songcraft that’s totally captivating.

Pittsburgh’s feral punks Snarling Dogs return to bite the hand that feeds them with their debut self-titled LP Snarling Dogs.

This unhinged offering kicks out 11 revved-up, slobbering 77-esque punk tracks that will have wasted, spikey punks diving into the pit never to return. Songs like “Nothing Left” are charged and chock full of hits sounding like a demented mix of Raw Power era Stooges with the speed and aggression of The Damned or The Dead Boys. The record expands from there with songs like “Hour at a Time”- a locked in dirgy, psychedelic stroll through crime ridden city streets. From there songs like “Enemy” rip through the void with manic energy- fast, raw and visceral almost stepping into early hardcore territory.

While the record has these intense dynamic shifts, Snarling Dogs glue it all together with their cohesive live rock n roll energy.

Snarling Dogs is the perfect escape from the mundanity of life. Chug that 40 oz on your lunch break, smoke that entire pack of cigs, and take a piss on your boss’s car.

There are two dogs in you. Now it's time to set the Snarling Dog free.

Matt Gilmour's latest album, "Business As Usual," marks a bold evolution in his sound and lyrical depth. With a blend of introspective lyrics and catchy melodies, the album explores themes of resilience, personal growth, and the complexities of modern life.

The project opens with the infectious lead single, setting a dynamic tone that resonates throughout. Gilmour's signature blend of genres—from rock to pop and elements of electronic—creates a diverse soundscape that captures the listener's attention. Each track delves into various facets of daily life, reflecting both the mundane and the extraordinary.

Collaborating with a range of talented musicians and producers, Gilmour infuses fresh energy into his work, resulting in a polished yet authentic feel. Standout tracks showcase his ability to balance heartfelt ballads with upbeat anthems, all while maintaining a cohesive narrative.

"Business As Usual" is not just an album; it’s a journey through the everyday hustle, reminding us that even amidst routine, there’s beauty to be found. With this release, Matt Gilmour solidifies his place as a compelling voice in contemporary music, ready to resonate with fans old and new.

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

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

Golden-era of kinked, acid-hued, analogue, harmonic song writing sits at the heart of The Eggmen Whoooooo!’s first, mind-bending, full-length album. Two-decades of meandering musicality fans the embers of cult Welsh legends, El Goodo, glowing beneath Benedict Frye’s latest bakeries of sound.

Whisking effervescence and colour into the flat glass of soda of mundane middle age, the
former El Goodo pace-setter has gathered a band of five other, talented souls and asks the jittery cut of sparking psych to lead the charge as the band’s debut album, ‘Fuzzy Eggs, Please’ is announced for release on Fri 25 October 2024.

Almost a full two decades since El Goodo rose to an elevated position amongst discerning
music-lovers as consorts to, support act beneath and studio collaborators with Super Furry
Animals, and a full four years since the final act of the departed band (their last, acclaimed
studio album, Zombie) a tapestry of distinctly and brilliantly odd songs scrambles from the
heart of the Welsh hills. Transplanted into the chest cavity of a new, stage-ready six-headed creature, what awakes is a new beast of valve amp and feedback-fuelled splendour.

All ten songs, recorded in mountainous seclusion in Carmarthenshire with producer,
Thighpaulsandra (Spiritualized, Tim Burgess), have clustered in strange harmony on The
Eggmen Whoooooo!’s very first, perfectly imperfect album.

Formed in a lightning strike of inspiration by prolific, remote South Wales-based keeper of
various musical flames, Benedict E Frye, The Eggmen Whoooooo! finds members of
kindred, Welsh musical spirits, El Goodo, Los Blancos and Trecco Beis, joining hands and
overloading studio plug sockets in a display of unchallenged creative hubris. With nobody to please but themselves, the six-piece’s indulgence in sounds straddles sun-licked Californian harmonies and the torn-sneakered snottiness of New York punk making for thrilling sonic schizophrenia with only their own record collections occasionally poached.

Schwerpunkt Süden und Austria! Anna Buchegger bringt
frischen Wind in die österreichische Volksmusik - kühn und
selbstbestimmt. In ihrer Musik verbindet sie ausgewählte
traditionelle Elemente mit zeitgenössischen Strömungen und
erschafft einen Dialog, der die Werte von gestern und die
Dringlichkeiten von heute miteinander verknüpft. Kein Blatt
vor den Mund nehmen! – Ihre Texte spiegeln die raue Realität
wider, verpackt im dialektalen Sprachklang der Salzburger
Mundart und eingebettet im zeitlosen Bandsound der 70erJahre. Kurz gesagt: musikalisches Brückenbauen zwischen
Tradition und Innovation.

Shangri-LA-DEE-DA shows off Stone Temple Pilots ability to synthesize and celebrate a vast array of musical influences into a wholly original and genre bending album. The 5th studio record from the classic STP lineup, originally released in 2001, was recorded in a Malibu Beach House. Originally slated to be a double album, it was re-imagined as a 1-LP, and features 13 tracks that bring listeners on a genre-defiant anthology of tales of Hollywood excess and more mundane moments of awe in life including new fatherhood.

Originally released in 1996 under the Nattefall monnicker, and first re-issued in 1997 as Mundanus Imperium, now Soulseller Records proudly presents the underground melodic black metal material taken from the original Nattefall DAT tape including bonus track and with never before seen pictures.

Originally released in 1996 under the Nattefall monnicker, and first re-issued in 1997 as Mundanus Imperium, now Soulseller Records proudly presents the underground melodic black metal material taken from the original Nattefall DAT tape including bonus track and with never before seen pictures.

Suicide Squeeze is thrilled to deliver a reissue of Interloper, the 2020 album from Holy Wave. Interloper sees Holy Wave adding new layers to their lush and mesmerizing songwriting style. Written about the duality between life at home and life on the road, it sees the band expanding on its most esoteric and thought-provoking themes. "I'm Not Living in the Past Anymore" is a mantra about breaking the cycle of the mundane, and "Escapism" is a dream-like meditation. "Interloper" serves as the centerpiece for this self-expanding record, asking, what happens when the world beneath your feet changes so much that you feel like a stranger in your own shoes? The band turns inward to blissed-out moments on album opener "Schmetterling," the saccharine haze of "R&B," and the freak-out catharsis of live favorite "Buddhist Pete." With Interloper Holy Wave weaves together a contemplative tapestry that can serve as a road map for the diffident, a soundtrack to self-realization, or simply an invitation to escape.

Through deep rhythmical mediations, Midge Thompson's first EP emerges on his own imprint Dance Protocol, crafted with the intent to enthrall the dance floor. The A-side unveils a relentless intensity, with sub-bass lines echoing the lost era of raves, each beat a testament to a harsher reality. Conversely, the B-side invites a party atmosphere, its bubbling bassline and dynamic drums offering an escape from the mundane. First you must open your mind then your body.

Limited Gray Marble Vinyl. This vinyl edition includes two EPs, one on each side: 'By the Ash Tree' and 'Upstream Dream', originally recorded and released in 2020 and 2021 respectively. To connect these compositions, Matt Kidd (Slow Meadow) composed new segues/crossfades from song to song, allowing the pieces to be experienced in one cohesive and harmonious flow. From Marc Weidenbaum's 'Disquiet' review: "Slow Meadow's new album, 'By the Ash Tree', opens with cascades of delays and proceeds through three tracks of reflective piano". The title track of 'By the Ash Tree' is one of Slow Meadow's most popular and enduring compositions. 'Upstream Dream' was composed around the time of 2019's Happy Occident. Soft electronics, bearing otherworldly tones and, at times, a sense of playful mischief, subtly shift expectations and bring discovery and wonder at every turn. It bookends a period of creative output that introduced Kidd's vision of calming and meditative ambient music. With a foundation of piano, string orchestration, and an ever-evolving electronic palette, Slow Meadow traverses the borders of neoclassical and minimalist electronics and delivers a deeply personal and transportive experience that speaks directly to the ebbs and flows and mundanity and marvels of life.

Days of Shaking continues M G's exploration into the kitchen sink dramas of modern suburbia but behind these songs of frustrated opportunities and the mundane realities of day to day modern living is a world of rumour and mystery, urban myths and the magical thinking we all use to bring shape to our lives, expectations and hopes Like a modern day book of wonders, the songs of Days of Shaking hint at UFO sightings, potential cave gods and visitations of the dead in dreams, all adding to the rich texture of people's wants and needs but ultimately our belief in hope. This balance is seen in the title track and album opener where the protagonist wonders whether he has witnessed a UFO but ends more prosaically with, "Where is the party tonight?/To stand by a tiki bar with Christmas lights/I want something I can't find/ we drive around dark tenements searching". Similarly the heroic fishing photos of 'City Map' poke at deeper yearnings: "is it true you can wake up somewhere new/ just shrug it off and transform?". Often referred to as the artist's artist M G has been a much sought after collaborator in the folk and Americana scenes, having significant tenures in the Simone Felice Group, The Duke and the King, Emily Portman's Coracle Band, Blue Rose Code, The Owl Service & Jon Boden's Remnant Kings.

Days of Shaking continues M G's exploration into the kitchen sink dramas of modern suburbia but behind these songs of frustrated opportunities and the mundane realities of day to day modern living is a world of rumour and mystery, urban myths and the magical thinking we all use to bring shape to our lives, expectations and hopes Like a modern day book of wonders, the songs of Days of Shaking hint at UFO sightings, potential cave gods and visitations of the dead in dreams, all adding to the rich texture of people's wants and needs but ultimately our belief in hope. This balance is seen in the title track and album opener where the protagonist wonders whether he has witnessed a UFO but ends more prosaically with, "Where is the party tonight?/To stand by a tiki bar with Christmas lights/I want something I can't find/ we drive around dark tenements searching". Similarly the heroic fishing photos of 'City Map' poke at deeper yearnings: "is it true you can wake up somewhere new/ just shrug it off and transform?". Often referred to as the artist's artist M G has been a much sought after collaborator in the folk and Americana scenes, having significant tenures in the Simone Felice Group, The Duke and the King, Emily Portman's Coracle Band, Blue Rose Code, The Owl Service & Jon Boden's Remnant Kings.

On the top floor of RG Scotts in Margate you'll find an assortment of tables _ tables that became field recordings, then programmed scatter rhythms, and eventually the foundations of the new solo album from Mike Lindsay: supershapes (volume 1). It's the first instalment in a series of records from the Mercury Prize-winning producer and mixing engineer (who's also the co-founder of UK acid folktronica band Tunng, and one half of electronic alt-psych duo LUMP, with Laura Marling), a series that explores "the miraculous in the mundane". Volume 1 looks widely at "everyday domestic objects, especially tables, coffee table books, and the daily rituals that shape us, heavily focusing on the majestic in the domestic". The album is a kind of table in its own right: those who sit round it include Anna B Savage and many other musicians and artists _ a sense of collaboration that has run through all of Lindsay's work.

Der Titel von PERCHTAs zweitem Album "D'Muata" heißt aus dem österreichischen Dialekt von Frontfrau Frau Percht ins Deutsche übertragen "Die Mutter". Der Name ist Programm, denn die Sängerin und ihre Band haben im Kontext ihres folkloristisch geprägten Black Metal ein feministisches Manifest geschaffen. Das Feminine in all seinen Facetten fristet in diesem Genre meist ein Nischendasein - und das, obwohl es ein untrennbarer Bestandteil sowohl des Menschen als auch der natürlichen Welt auf diesem Planeten ist. PERCHTA haben sich 2017 im Jahr ihrer Gründung in Tirol, Österreich nach einer von der älteren Forschung rekonstruierten heidnischen Göttin benannt. Von Anfang an beabsichtigte Frau Percht mit ihrer Musik regionale Traditionen zu bewahren und zu verjüngen. Drei Jahre später erschien das Debütalbum "Ufång" (2020), mit dem sich PERCHTA schnell einen Ruf als höchst individualistische und einzigartige Band erwarben. Dazu gehört, dass die Texte von "Ufång" in der Tiroler Mundart intoniert werden. Dies geschieht mit einem extremen, durch Mark und Bein gehenden Gesang, der in einen Sturm aus Gitarren-Tremolos und ritualistisch interpretierter Folklore eingebettet ist. Nach der globalen Zwangspause machten PERCHTA auch durch ihre faszinierenden Live-Auftritte auf sich aufmerksam. Durch die Konzerte trat der Charakter als Band stärker hervor. Jetzt kehren die schwarze Hexe der Tiroler Berge und ihre Gesellen mit einem magischen neuen Album zurück, das PERCHTA auch zurück auf die Bühne bringen wird!

Plasma Color Vinyl. 'The way Bloomsday's Iris James Garrison writes songs feels like somewhere between a mirror and a memory. Spacious, full-bodied folk songs, they are an ode to things that are good no matter how small; they sometimes feel like the ghost of a Mary Oliver poem. Bloomsday's new record, 'Heart of the Artichoke', is a relic of unfettered creativity and community. They recount the miracles of the mundane, the memories that become sacred, an ode to all that is holy: nightswimming, songs plucked from the ether, the ways friendship can endure. Like earlier Bloomsday songs, the work here is threaded with warmth; it's simmering, crisp and deeply human, an encapsulation of the present moment. Recorded across 10 days in June 2023 in upstate New York at duo Babehoven's studio and co-produced by Babehoven's Ryan Albert, with mixing by Henry Stoehr of Slow Pulp. The record was built out with a wideranging group of collaborators, including inventive drumming from Andrew Stevens (Lomelda, Hovvdy), Alex Harwood, Richard Orofino, Babehoven's Maya Bon, Hannah Pruzinsky (h.pruz, Sister.), and Chris Daley. It was an insulated and collaborative experience: all family dinners on the back porch, bonfires, feeling a full sense of joy, of friendship, of purity in the artistic self. Collaboration is an integral part of Bloomsday's musical process. Garrison is malleable in the studio, their songwriting generous and spacious. But in listening to the record, there's a sense that Garrison leaves room for the players, for the listener; for songs to find the shapes they're meant to take. Garrison's role as maestro is crucial, singular - it's a collaborative, exploratory spirit harnessed by Garrison's intuition, and by an honest commitment to carve out creative space for play, to delve into what's known - or pushing past that, into unknown. "The ghosts of the past still come up and haunt me," Garrison says, "but I sit in what I have and see it. All of these songs are about loved ones, about personal struggles with getting out of my head and being present." Heart of the Artichoke was written from a healed, matured place - written in a moment of safety from chaos. It's a prayer for the present, an appreciation of tenderness and what happens once we give ourselves the space to really see, and really feel - becoming free and whole - an ode to the way healing allows us to bloom.

'The way Bloomsday's Iris James Garrison writes songs feels like somewhere between a mirror and a memory. Spacious, full-bodied folk songs, they are an ode to things that are good no matter how small; they sometimes feel like the ghost of a Mary Oliver poem. Bloomsday's new record, 'Heart of the Artichoke', is a relic of unfettered creativity and community. They recount the miracles of the mundane, the memories that become sacred, an ode to all that is holy: nightswimming, songs plucked from the ether, the ways friendship can endure. Like earlier Bloomsday songs, the work here is threaded with warmth; it's simmering, crisp and deeply human, an encapsulation of the present moment. Recorded across 10 days in June 2023 in upstate New York at duo Babehoven's studio and co-produced by Babehoven's Ryan Albert, with mixing by Henry Stoehr of Slow Pulp. The record was built out with a wideranging group of collaborators, including inventive drumming from Andrew Stevens (Lomelda, Hovvdy), Alex Harwood, Richard Orofino, Babehoven's Maya Bon, Hannah Pruzinsky (h.pruz, Sister.), and Chris Daley. It was an insulated and collaborative experience: all family dinners on the back porch, bonfires, feeling a full sense of joy, of friendship, of purity in the artistic self. Collaboration is an integral part of Bloomsday's musical process. Garrison is malleable in the studio, their songwriting generous and spacious. But in listening to the record, there's a sense that Garrison leaves room for the players, for the listener; for songs to find the shapes they're meant to take. Garrison's role as maestro is crucial, singular - it's a collaborative, exploratory spirit harnessed by Garrison's intuition, and by an honest commitment to carve out creative space for play, to delve into what's known - or pushing past that, into unknown. "The ghosts of the past still come up and haunt me," Garrison says, "but I sit in what I have and see it. All of these songs are about loved ones, about personal struggles with getting out of my head and being present." Heart of the Artichoke was written from a healed, matured place - written in a moment of safety from chaos. It's a prayer for the present, an appreciation of tenderness and what happens once we give ourselves the space to really see, and really feel - becoming free and whole - an ode to the way healing allows us to bloom.