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Eternally Frozen consists of a series of canon based compositions for brass ensemble, percussion and synthesizer by Andrea Belfi. The canon is an ancient compositional technique in which an initial melody is imitated at a specified time interval by one or more parts, creating illusionary never-ending musical journeys.

The work is inspired by the evocative image of the Deprong Mori, a mythological bat with the alleged ability to fly through solid matter by bending atoms by its natural skill of audio echolocation. The myth suggests that one of these bats had been “eternally frozen” in a wall of solid lead in 1952 by the researcher of the Rockefeller University, Donald R. Griffith. This story is exhibited in a display at the Museum of Jurassic Technology in Los Angeles, an institution renowned for both speculative, fantastical reinforcement of mythology and playful and beguiling distortions of mysterious could-be truths.

Both the canon and the “frozen” Deprong Mori are man-made illusory simulations of eternity. Their attempt is to create mirages, where the insinuation of facts is more meaningful than the reality.

After many years of sonic explorations with percussion, drums, and electronics, Belfi is here projecting himself as a composer through the direction of an astonishing brass ensemble in the realization of these canonic works. There are evident echoes of the works of Arthur Russell, Miles Davis, Moondog, William Basinski, and the Italian soundtrack tradition of Ennio Morricone and Egisto Macchi.

Berlin based Millhouse has been bangin' out the tunes for over 20 years, playing in venues across Europe alongside many of the world’s top DJ’s, continuously demonstrating energetic musical dynamics in mixing and producing the machine based techno he’s become so well-known and respected for.
Continuing with the ‘Limited As Fuck’ series of releases, on our fiercely independent techno label based in Scotland, we’re absolutely going to cause outrageous arm waving behaviour on the dance floors with this scandalous techno due to the despicable nature of the notoriety it’s going to make for itself. Full of driving kicks, bass lines and sinister synth stabs, this release will set off a series of events that’ll shock your speakers with outrageous consequences.

WARNING: TUMULTUOUS TECHNO OF SUCH MAGNITUDE CAN ONLY LEAD TO A DANCE FLOOR DISASTER SHOW

Tracks are mixed together.

"In this album, Akira Umeda mixes 42 recordings, dated between 1988 and 2018, which, in a sense, reflect the incredible range of his creative work: from songs, to ambient music; from field recordings to prank calls. The cassette tapes, whose contents make up this double-LP, had been stored in Umeda’s house in São José dos Campos, in São Paulo, Brazil.

Restless, and easily bored, Akira moved seamlessly from one activity to another – he was a little bit of everything (and nothing at all). Such people usually go unnoticed and unrecognized, something which Umeda found perfectly acceptable. Nevertheless, unlike most people, he had no right to see himself in this light – in the light of ephemerality and anonymity –, for in everything he tried his hand at, he inevitably left an impressive and distinctive mark.

The term cruising refers to the practice of seeking and obtaining instant, no-strings-attached sexual gratification with strangers. Akira Umeda was well-acquainted with this term, but his practice of it was not restricted to the aforementioned context. Rather it extended into all spheres of his life and work. A historian by training, he later became a ceramicist, a photographer, a visual artist, a draftsman, a graphic designer, a DJ, a musician, an audio technician, a writer, a researcher... He made forays into a myriad of artistic and academic fields – with a single intention: to achieve a specific objective and promptly exit stage left, as it were."

Back in 2011 when I was tentatively looking for a second release for my fledging record label Clay Pipe Music, I stumbled upon a mysterious MySpace page by a group called ‘Tyneham House’, the page was decorated with artwork by Rena Gardiner (who was unknown to me at that time) and the music was an otherworldly mix of field recordings, Mellotron and acoustic guitar. It turned out that Tyneham was promised to Glen Johnson’s Second Language label, so I offered to do the artwork, and in January 2012 the two labels co-released it on tape and CD in a cardboard box with a handmade booklet of my illustrations.

In 2016 Clay Pipe reissued it on 10” vinyl, in an edition of just 300, which has since become sort after. The new 2023 pressing is on blue and transparent marbled vinyl, with a reverse board cover and inner sleeve, and the booklet of illustrations has been given a complete redesign. Frances Castle 2023

The pastoral, wistful yet ineffably disquieting music of Tyneham House is made by artists who wish to remain anonymous here, save for their eponymous title. The musicians are happy, however, to let it be known that these recordings have been around for some years (many of them complied from old cassettes) and that they take inspiration from the 1960s/’70s/’80s work of the Children’s Film Foundation – a body who really ought to have made a film about this mysterious West Country curio. At least now we have its endlessly poignant soundtrack.

The small village of Tyneham, on the beautiful Isle of Purbeck, in Dorset, was once a thriving little community – that is until the British Government requisitioned it for training manoeuvres and other ‘strategic purposes’ in the run up to WWII. This was supposed to be a temporary measure, but the area remained in military possession long after hostilities had ceased, causing distress among former inhabitants, many of whom were farmed out to prefabs in nearby Wareham and Swanage.

Tyneham was characterised by its red telephone box, a tiny parade of shops – Post Office Row – and a grand country pile which stood about half a mile away from the village: Tyneham House. The army removed the building’s oak panelling and ornate decorative details and promptly set about using it for target practice. So great was the shame expressed locally about the damage inflicted upon one of Dorset’s grandest houses that the powers that be decided to grow a copse around the remains of the structure to give the impression that it was no longer there. Despite this, a substantial part of the structure remains intact, including its Saxon hall.

Land access around Tyneham was opened up in the 1970s, but admission to the house remains strictly verboten. Those who’ve been found around the premises, especially anyone wielding a camera, have felt the full weight of military trespass law. Tyneham today is regarded as a nature reserve by some – as a national embarrassment by others. It’s still a political hot potato, in Dorset at least.

The new Hunter Complex album Airports and Ports arrives today Friday 2 September 2022 on Burning Witches Records and features contributions from Aquiles Navarro (trumpet, Irreversible Entanglements), new age legend Kat Epple (flute, Emerald Web), Alexander Hawkins (piano, Louis Moholo-Moholo), Justin Sweatt (aka Xander Harris, guitar) and Coen Oscar Polack (field recordings). Airports and Ports is the follow-up to the critically acclaimed synth albums Dead Calm and Zero Degrees (Burning Witches, 2020) and Open Sea (Death Waltz, 2019) and takes a new direction with influences from new age, ethereal jazz and krautrock.The gorgeous artwork was created by Luke Insect.For Airports and Ports,

Lars Meijer of Hunter Complex invited musicians from all around the globe to contribute to the album.Meijer: ‘I wanted to know what they would come up with, what new sounds and styles they would bring to my music. My previous album Dead Calm and Zero Degrees came out at the beginning of the Covid crisis in March 2020. I didn’t create music for months, it felt like time stood still. I missed the energy I got from being around people, from seeing concerts, from traveling. Those musicians gave that back to me and inspired me to create and discover new grounds.

Acclaimed Stirling-based group Constant Follower, led by Stephen McAll, and renowned folk guitarist Scott William Urquhart have today announced their forthcoming collaborative album, ‘Even Days Dissolve’, which will be released on 14 April 2023.

The album follows on from Constant Follower’s lauded debut long-player ‘Neither Is, Nor Ever Was’, which was released in 2021 and nominated for the 2022 Scottish Album of the Year (SAY) Award.

‘Even Days Dissolve’ is an enchanting, deeply absorbing, and meditative album, the product of a musical affinity between two thoughtful and uniquely talented Scottish songwriters and musicians.

The songs that make up ‘‘Even Days Dissolve’ were inspired by ‘the grand old man of Scottish poetry’, Norman MacCaig (1910-1996), whose work is characterised by its gentle humour, precise observation and love for the natural world, which forms another key theme for the album.

MacCaig’s poetry holds great significance to McAll, as it formed a major source of comfort and support to him during a long period of recovery following a violent and unprovoked attack that left him with catastrophic head injuries, partially paralysed and unable to write or play guitar.

‘Even Days Dissolve’ is McAll’s nod of respect to McCaig, and the great man’s unmistakable words and inimitable voice feature on two of the tracks - single ‘Wildlife Cameraman’, and ‘Comes A Silence (Basking Shark)’ – sensitively set over the backdrop of beautiful and exquisitely crafted songs.

Scott William Urquhart’s masterful acoustic guitar playing is a stunning centrepiece of the album, imbuing the songs with a moving sense of atmosphere, and sounding at once both elegant and robust. Urquhart’s unassuming yet compelling vocals also feature throughout ‘Even Days Dissolve’.

Speaking about ‘‘Even Days Dissolve’, Stephen McAll said: “The magic in music for me is all about collaboration. Finding people who inspire me to make better music, then working with them and creating something between us that’s better than what either of us could have made alone. It’s been an honour to work so closely with Scott William Urquhart on this album. He’s someone whom I’ve admired for some time - unquestionably up there with the best acoustic guitarists at the moment in Scotland, and such a beautiful writer of songs.

“Bringing two of these songs together with the voice of our beloved Norman MacCaig has been a real highlight of this project. His poetry was introduced to me by my high school teacher Mrs Tatarkowski, and it was the first prose I was able to read and understand when I was recovering from a traumatic head injury. So his work holds a deep space in my heart. I don’t think any poet or songwriter has matched his ability to capture the space and wonder of the natural beauty of Scotland.”

The Belgian vibraphonist Guy Cabay has played with Toots Thielemans, Philip Caherine or Raoul Faisant. Composer, arranger, musicologist and singer, he also wrote and recorded two extraordinary albums in Liege Walloon. Tricatel is happy to make them available at last, 46 years after their publication.

"Gravity kills us. Perhaps that is the meaning of Adam's Fall. We are condemned to be Newton's apple, not the balloon carried away by the wind. But it happens nevertheless that, by the grace of music in particular, we escape gravity, that time escapes time, that another breath inflates our lungs, so much lighter than the one that usually suffocates us.

We don't take light music seriously, and that's good. Only serious music deserves to be treated so badly. Guy Cabay's music flows from a purer source and speaks to us in a more tender voice. One can obviously describe it as one labels export product. Origin: Belgium. Ingredients: jazz, bossa nova, tropicalism, song - proportions may vary. Calorific value: none.

Non-perishable product. But this would say as much about what this music really is as if, in. order to evoke what the foggy blue of a Norman sky inspires, one were to take note of the variations in the percentage of humidity in the atmosphere at Etretat and make a learned presentation on the laws of refraction.

Guy Cabay did pass through Brazil and still lives there a little, a Brazil that is not the one ofcartographers or travel agencies, a Brazil that is as real as the Far West in which Fenimore Cooper's child readers lived, as blurred and limpid as a dream. It is not the Amazon thatflows through this Brazil, but the Ourthe, a tributary of the Meuse, which makes it morefamiliar, stranger and even more poetic.

To let oneself be bathed in this melancholichappiness, to let oneself be carried by this river is sweet, as sweet as the fluid consonants of the Walloon language, this 'd' which becomes 'dj' in his mouth, as in Portuguese, by the way. To know how to create melodies that hold on a note like Jobim's samba, like a fildeferist above a waterfall of chords, is not given to everyone. It is a gift. Knowing how to lace others on dozens of points, as on Tot a-fet rote cou d'zeur cou d'zos, a poignant encounter between Randy Newman and Robert Wyatt, is another. These are not the only ones that the fairies offered to Guy Cabay and that, by an almost miracle, he offers us again today. Hearts up."

Bertrand Burgalat

"We entered the shadowy mouth of a new space, descending into a realm that precedes the underworld, the arcane, far from our time. We met beasts that gave us lessons about their language which we started learning without grammar."


'The animal world is a constant in the work of Milan improvisational duo Rosso Polare. If Cani Lenti was guided by the diaphanous birdsong integrated into their sparkling mix of folklore, ambiences and occasional humming, on Bocca D’ombra the themes go darker, textures are harder to pin down and the animal presence takes on new connotations.

Instead of an anonymous, patchworked outdoors we enter a cavernous space that invokes the collective unconscious with bestial and funereal undertones, as the animals take on the role of the psychopomps, ancient guides through the shadow realm.

The album is influenced by Timothy Morton’s Dark Ecology, a thinker who sees the constant exchange between the human and natural world as an ongoing dialogue, the two influencing each other, in a series of reverberating loops. This looping is also reflected in their compositions, where improvisations with traditional instruments like electric and acoustic guitars, monophonic synths, horns or flutes meet natural noise-making tools like branches, rocks or nuts that amount to lugubrious, often dissonant textures. Bocca D’ombra is built on a series of whispers, breaths, panting and rustling, creating a feeling of closeness sometimes verging on the claustrophobic, ingeniously set against sounds evoking space – fireworks crackling, crows echoing, church bells reverberating, indistinct cries from a children’s playground.

Distance and repetition are deeply ingrained in their own understanding of sound and their surroundings, becoming the building blocks of their practice. Just like Gregory Bateson in the ‘70s, the duo believes in a more romantic approach to ecology, seeking a porous border between self and environment, human and animal, internal monologue and external ambient hum.

If earlier releases were noisier and denser, Bocca D’ombra is tight and focused - every sound and melody is given room to breathe and develop on its own, enhancing the haunting, otherworldly aspect of the music. The result is heady, intoxicating mix which sublimates chaos into sparkling compositions of contemporary animism.'

Returning to Lisbon’s Light Channel Recordings, DJ Silver mines the rich seam of techno’s late-century flourishing into diverse forms – from stern 4/4 to reflective electro to gorgeous, cinematic ambient. ‘P World’ takes (and merits) the whole A-side: what starts as an unadorned piano solo unfurls into a mélange of sunburnt synth washes and hazy arpeggios, as if Detroit Escalator Co. went to the beach for a day. On the B, ‘Cell’ takes us on a nostalgic flight through Incunabula-era electro, here with a remarkable melodic lead line, while ‘Future Domination’ sheds the introspection and drops us straight into the ritual pressure of a packed techno floor. It’s a timely reminder that, even during a time of confinement, music can transport us to far-flung places.