Suche:myt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Has the American myth finally run its course?

Although he began his career as an artist as a producer, working on the hit ‘Le Code’ in 2017 with Ichon, Myth Syzer and Bonnie Banane, Muddy Monk's work today is far removed from hip-hop and closer to a mutant form of synthetic and romantic variety, sung in French. His debut album, Longue Ride, is a collection of songs about adventure, love, violence and the quest for a good life - themes which, for the young man, are all about overcoming his anxieties. So many subjects that he treats with a mechanical and desperate lyricism often close to that of another fan of powerful two-wheelers whose label was called Les Disques Motors: we're talking about the legendary Christophe.

Twilight of the Gods is the newest Netflix phenomenon from the vision of Zack Snyder. The animation series brings the spectacular world of ancient Norse mythology to life. The series is acompanied by a epic, haunting and beautiful film score created by Hans Zimmer, Omer Benyamin and Steven Doar. This collaboration between renowned composers results in a cinematic masterpiece that perfectly complements Snyder’s visual storytelling. Experience the dramatic power of Twilight of the Gods through this visionary soundtrack, a must-listen for fans of epic film music.

Mysterious, multifaceted collective i Häxa have unveiled their epic self-titled, full length debut; a ground-breaking conceptual double album shaped by a collision of ancient gods and bleeding-edge technology_ Released as four distinct Parts over the course of the year, `i Häxa' now comes together as a singular vision that weaves together genre-defiant soundscapes, abstract cinema and ancient meteorological mythologies from singer-songwriter and visual artist Rebecca Need-Menear (also of electronic alt-rock duo Anavae) and forward-thinking producer Peter Miles (Architects, Dodie, Fizz). i Häxa is a ritualistic dissection of the world as we know it, a forceful separation of the monotony of modernity from the rites and rituals that for centuries formed the foundations for who we are, how we came to be and where we claim to belong. Disjointed fragments of time collide. Two sides, one of logic and one of chaos, seeking unity and balance through an expression of freedom. This is i Häxa. Whilst the album is composed of four distinct movements, each consisting of four distinct tracks themselves; pulling them apart into easily digestible, standalone singles isn't an easy feat and, as is now clear from the project's sprawling cyclic nature, was never the intention. In an age of fast fun and instant gratification, the ties that bind these works together are intended to transcend tracklisting. With aural, visual and lyrical themes freely intertwining, i Häxa is something to be consumed whole; just as it will, in time, consume you. Charting an existential journey to the very depths of what makes us who we are, with every dark corner illuminated in glitched out, discordant glory; i Häxa is a project years in the making that draws simultaneously from rituals for old gods and the modern day deification of data. i Häxa is both heartwarming and horrifying; i Häxa is ancient history and hyper-real; i Häxa is everybody and no one at all. Check out if you like Radiohead, Julie Christmas, Agnes Obel, Bjork, Fever Ray, Massive Attack, Dead Can Dance, Emma Ruth Rundle, Jenny Hval, Cult of Luna, Eivor, Zola Jesus, Marissa Nadler, Soft Moon

Nach ihrem Karrierehighlight "Long Gradus" 2023, der aus der seltenen Gelegenheit entstand, monatelang mit einem Streichquartett zusammenzuarbeiten, bringt Sarah Davachi auf ihrer zehnten Late Music-LP ihre elektroakustischen Studio- und Live-Kammerpraktiken zu einer atemberaubenden Verbindung zusammen: "The Head As Form’d In The Crier’s Choir" basiert auf zwei Werken des altgriechischen Orpheus-Mythos - Rilkes Gedichtsammlung "Sonette An Orpheus" (1922) und Monteverdis frühe Barockoper "l'Orfeo" (1607), bildet mit den Vorgängern "Two Sisters" (2022) und "Antiphonals" (2021) eine 'lose Trilogie' und stellt Davachis bisher ganzheitlichsten Ansatz an Komposition und Aufführung dar. Mit einer reichen Textur, die sich in jedem Stück wellt, es durchdringt und emotionale Höhepunkte erreicht, präsentiert Sarah Davachi auf "The Head As Form’d In The Crier’s Choir" einige ihrer bisher zartesten und ausdrucksstärksten Werke.

Water ripples all around, and echoing sounds stretch out into a shady sub aquatic habitat. Its dark corners slowly burst into view as cresting noises reveal fresh caverns teeming with liquid life. This is Sueños acuáticos, the latest sonic exploration from Lamina, a musical project by French artist, Clarice Calvo-Pinsolle. Built from years of carefully gathered field recordings, the album constructs immersive, detailed soundscapes where watery environments, caves, and forests intertwine with digital manipulations.

Rooted in the myth of the ‘Lamina’, a creature from Basque folklore, the project blends this oral tradition with technology to build a geological myth. The Lamina’s world—a nocturnal ecosystem of water and stone—serves as the foundation for the album’s sound design. Lamina reshapes these natural recordings into something new: stretching, pitching, and layering them to build intricate sound environments that feel simultaneously organic and synthetic. “I transform these sounds much like I would sculpt in ceramics,” explains Calvo-Pinsolle, “by adding, removing material, and imagining landscapes.

Drawing from hydrofeminist and posthuman ideas, particularly those in Astrida Neimanis’ Bodies of Water, the album treats sound like water—shifting, flowing, connecting, and buoying life. Tracks flow into one another without clear boundaries, much like the natural currents they represent. The result is a continuous listening experience, inviting deep focus on texture above melody.

Lamina is exploring the potential of the field recording as a compositional tool. Natural sounds, like trickling water or wind through trees, are processed out of recognition—or cliché. A sense of weightless immersion takes hold as Lamins’a music unfolds, and listeners float freely and choose their own adventure in the Lamina’s home. Less a set of songs than its own evolving environment, Sueños acuáticos (‘Aquatic Dreams’ in English) is a meticulously constructed work in which we can freely float.

Jawad Nawfal and Mazen El Sayed, better known by their stage names of MUNMA and EL RASS, met for the first time in Beirut, during the summer of 2011. A common friend told Jawad wonders about an MC who rapped and slammed in the classical Arabic language, as opposed to the vernacular Lebanese dialect. The two musicians met in a small café in Beirut’s Hamra neighborhood, spoke of music, argued about politics, and decided to collaborate at once. They began working on tracks the following day. A month later, they had already produced a dozen sketches, instrumental beds and accapella vocal tracks. These demos eventually landed in the hands of Ziad Nawfal and Fadi Tabbal, who set out to bring to life the duo’s first recorded album. “Kachf el Mahjoub” (the title is from a Sufi master-work penned some 900 years ago) was eventually released as a limited edition of 500 CD’s, during a launch event at then-budding alternative venue Metro al Madina in Hamra, on the 22nd of February 2012. These CDs went out of print in record time, as can be expected, and the album’s mythical status became reinforced over time – El Rass & Munma collaborated sporadically during the next ten years, but never fully grasped the level of musical intensity and explosive tension attained on this first outing. It has been a longstanding dream of ours, here at Ruptured, to produce a vinyl version of this album, and we are thrilled to say this moment has finally come. Artist ALI RAFEI’s original artworks have been painstakingly reproduced, the music has been dutifully remastered for vinyl by CEDRIK FERMONT, and the records were pressed by our friends at Mother Tongue in Verona. We added bonus track "Fi Kala'at Tarablus" to this 10th anniversary reissue for good measure – recorded during the same sessions that yielded “Kachf el Mahjoub”, it appears on the digital version of the album. “Kachf el Mahjoub” is a landmark album in Lebanon’s alternative music scene, and the MENA region’s hiphop and indie scenes writ large. At the time of their collaboration, El Sayed was a prolific writer and musician, at ease with a variety of instruments, notorious for his masterful flow in the classical Arabic language, with lyrics tackling both social and political sensitive subjects; Nawfal has previously released an impressive number of albums and EPs, exploring downtempo electronica and ambient dubstep, for a number of Lebanese and international labels. The collision of the former’s brazen, slammed vocals and the latter’s harsh beats works wonders on “Kachf el Mahjoub”, Munma’s sound-world perfectly fitting El Rass’s agitated discourse, alternating between broken beats, elaborate percussion, and ambient layers of synths. At times reminiscent of mutant hiphop outfit Shabazz Palaces, at others of the collaboration between dubstep producer Kode9 and the late vocalist The SpaceApe, this album is an uncanny meeting of Arabic hip-hop and electronica, an exceptional event in the realm of contemporary Lebanese alternative music.

Having spent their formative years in São Paulo Brazil, as a teenager, Lau Ro found themself uprooted from their home. Moving with their family to Europe in search of a better quality of life, their story was like that of many immigrants in the same position. Lau Ro's parents found work in factories and cleaning jobs, for the first few years in the North of Italy and then in Brighton on England's Southern coast. "We never managed to visit back home, so my connection to Brazil became largely made up of childhood memories and my fascination with all the 60s and 70s music I could find from there."

In Brighton, the young non-binary singer and composer would immerse themself amongst the city's vanguard of free-thinking artists and musicians. Lau Ro formed Wax Machine whose prefigurative, psychedelic community provided a glimmer of countercultural hope amid a backdrop of national political decline. From 2020-23, Wax Machine birthed three cult-favourite albums in as many years; indebted in part to their British psychedelic forebears from progressive folk, rock and jazz yore. But the kernel of Lau's Brazilian sound was already beginning to blossom across Wax Machine's releases. Now, taking root deeper still, Lau Ro steps forward with their debut album: Cabana.

Named after the small wood cabin at the bottom of their garden where the album was recorded, Cabana is a deeply personal record of memory, self-discovery and imagination. Melancholy and hope combine across ten tracks of dreamy bossa, ambient folk, fuzzy tropicalia and majestic MPB. The music is swathed in masterful string arrangements and trippy electronics in equal part, while Lau Ro's delicate, yet quietly confident voice takes acerbic aim (in both English and Portuguese) at polluted city life, while dreaming of a utopia, rich with nature and wildlife.

Like the musical equivalent of semantic drift, Lau Ro's displacement led to the creation of another Brazil. A mythic place in Lau's soul, as they put it, "where the sunshine and joy of my childhood remained untapped." Lau continues: "It's music that might sound as if it came out of a parallel universe Brazil, rather than its modern day landscape. I am nowadays rediscovering Brazil, going back as often as I can and trying to stay connected to these different parts of the world and myself."

~~~From Mississippi and Olvido Records~~~~~~ Steel-string guitar and vocals by the great Giorgos Katsaros, a mythic figure of Greek rembetiko. Our obsession with underground Greek music continues with 10 ultra-rare recordings of heartbreak and vice from rembetiko legend Giorgos Katsaros. Katsaros, who by some accounts lived to be over 100 years old, carried the old songs of Greece to the Diaspora in the United States, bridging centuries of music in one storied lifetime. Born in 1901 on the Greek island of Amorgos, Katsaros' was enchanted with the songs he picked up as a kid in the streets of Piraeus and Athens. Encouraged by his grandfather, an amateur singer, Katsaros developed a style that mirrored his upbringing - centuries-old Asia Minor songs, island rhythms of his homeland, well-known Athenian songs of the time, and anonymous `rebetiko' songs. Katsaros' songbook was vast, but he was most drawn to the street life and music of the manges of early 20th-century Greece: outcasts who dealt with the indignities of an unstable economy and an inauspicious future with the old standbys: wine, hash, and dancing. These ten tracks are remastered from Katsaros's 64 surviving early recordings, many rarely heard since their original release. Hypnotic melodies plucked over repeating thumbed basslines back his deep, mournful voice. Katsaros brought this nostalgic late-night music to smoke-filled rooms of Greek exiles in Chicago, Philly, and New York, where he emigrated in 1917. He continued to travel the country and play until his music was supplanted by more modern styles in the 1950s. He retired to the town of Tarpon Springs, FL, famous for its Greek sponge fishers, til a late-in-life revival brought him back to Greece for a few massive concerts and national accolades in the 1990s. Like many great artists, Katsaros carefully curated his own mythic backstory over the decades. He sometimes claimed he was born in 1888, making him 109 on his passing, and conflicting accounts of his birth and travels circulate to this day. Greek researchers Stavros Kourousis and Konstantinos Kopanitsanos, who also compiled these tracks, contribute groundbreaking new historical research on Katsaros' life. Lyrics, poetically translated by Tony Klein, further fill in the picture. Clean and rare 78s were remastered by Stereophonic. Katsaros has never sounded better than on this LP, pressed on red vinyl, with extensive notes and lyrics.

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?"

Die finnische Modern Metal-Band ARCTIS veröffentlicht ihr selbstbetiteltes Debütalbum Arctis über Napalm Records.
ARCTIS ziehen Inspiration aus der mythischen Natur des Nordens und ihren extremen Jahreszeiten, die sie in futuristisches Szenario übertragen. Einen
ebenso großen Spagat machen sie auf der Soundebene, wenn sie Modern Metal gekonnt mit Pop kombinieren und so ein episches und originelles
Klanguniversum erzeugen. Produziert wurde das Debüt von dem mehrfach mit Platin ausgezeichneten Jimmy Westerlund (Sturm und Drang), gemixt
von Stefan Glaumann (Rammstein) und gemastert von dem zweimal Grammy-nominierten Svante Forsbäck (Rammstein).
Mit dieser geballten Expertise als Rückenwind verspricht Arctis die Szene mit frischem Wind aufzuwirbeln, was sie unmittelbar im Anschluss an die
Veröffentlichung auf den Bühnen Europas beweisen werden. Denn ARCTIS haben die Ehre die legendären Metal Cellisten von Apocalyptica auf ihrer
Tour zu begleiten, was ihren Status als Senkrechtstarter unterstreicht.

Matthew Herbert setzt seine Soundtrack-Produktionsreihe mit der Musik für den britischen Horrorfilm "Starve Acre" des Regisseurs Daniel Kokotajlo mit Matt Smith und Morfydd Clark in den Hauptrollen fort, der im September 2024 erscheinen soll - eine düstere Untersuchung von Trauer, Glauben und Übernatürlichem, die stark auf Folklore und Mythologie zurückgreift. Der OST folgt auf Arbeiten für Independentfilme wie "The Wonder", "The Cave" oder den Oscar-nominierten "A Fantastic Woman" und ist eine minimalistische Übung in Spannung und Zerbrechlichkeit, die geduldige Instrumentierungsfäden mit atmosphärischem Sounddesign verbindet – romantische Wogen der Orchestrierung gegen drohenden Druck im unteren Frequenzbereich und körperlose, unnatürliche Stimmen, die die bösartigen Kräfte darstellen, die im gesamten Film angedeutet werden. Er enthält zusätzlich zwei Versionen von "Let Me In", einer Interpretation des englischen Volksliedes "It Hails, It Rains, It Snows, It Blows" aus dem frühen 20. Jahrhundert, gesungen von Matt Smith und gespielt vom Folk-Elektronica-Duo Crewdson & Cevanne (Hugh Jones & Cevanne Horrocks-Hopayian) - ein bezauberndes Finale für die allgegenwärtige Düsterkeit der weiteren Partitur.

Kenner von Richard Swift wissen, dass sein Katalog umfangreich und phantasievoll ist, vollgepackt mit ebenso vielen ausgefeilten, eiskalten Klassikern wie verrückten Ein-Take-Experimenten. Diese Kleinode kommen in allen Formen und Größen, und während das den Eingefleischten nichts ausmacht, ist der Einstieg in die Musik von Swift für den Neuling schwierig: Wo soll man anfangen? Was kommt in die engere Wahl? Wie viele Crooner? Wie viele wilde Lieder? Vor diesem Hintergrund präsentiert Secretly Canadian "4 Hits & A Miss - The Essential Richard Swift", einen bescheidenen Versuch, die siebenundvierzig Minuten und vierzehn Songs zusammenzutragen, die die Uneingeweihten einführen können. Wenn Sie Richard Swift nicht kennen, lassen Sie sich von dem unvergleichlichen Kevin Morby aufklären: "Es gibt einen alten Pfadfindermythos, von dem ich als Kind gehört habe, dass man eine Kapelle bauen kann, wenn man die richtige Person mitten in den Wald setzt, bewaffnet nur mit einem Schweizer Taschenmesser. Wenn ich an diesen Mythos zurückdenke, denke ich an Richard Swift, der, wenn man ihn mitten im Wald mit einem 10-Dollar-Radio-Shack-Mikrofon absetzte, irgendwie ein Studio bauen konnte und in diesem Studio eine Kapelle des Klangs errichtete. Tatsächlich hat er genau das in seinem eigenen National Freedom Studio mitten in den Wäldern von Oregon getan, in einer Stadt namens Cottage Grove, wo er unzählige Stunden seiner eigenen Musik und der anderer Leute aufgenommen hat. Diese Kapellen des Klangs werden - und ich habe es bereits erlebt - kommende Generationen in Ehrfurcht versetzen und inspirieren, so wie es die Steinkapellen im frühen Europa tun. Beide lassen die Menschen verblüfft zurück und fragen sich: Wie konnte etwas so Massives und Schönes mit so minimalen und archaischen Mitteln gebaut werden - und in Richards Fall so schnell? Nach ihrem Tod scheinen die meisten Künstler endgültig zu ruhen, ihre Kataloge ruhen für immer neben ihnen. Aber Richard scheint aus dem Jenseits rastlos zu sein, und die Arbeit, die er hier unten auf der Erde begonnen hat, geht weiter. Sein letztes Album, The Hex, wurde nur wenige Monate nach seinem frühen Tod im Jahr 2018 veröffentlicht, und jetzt haben wir mit 4 Hits and A Miss eine Sammlung seiner beliebtesten Songs sowie einen neuen, noch nie zuvor gehörten Track "Common Law", aufgenommen um 2012. Ob Gelegenheitsfan oder Swift-Purist, 4 Hits & A Miss ist entweder ein perfekter Startpunkt oder ein Ziel für uns eingefleischte Fans, um wieder einmal etwas Neues zu finden, das uns beeindruckt und inspiriert. Wie ein versteckter Raum in seiner bereits beeindruckenden Kapelle gibt es immer etwas Neues von unserem geliebten Freund und Helden, dem verstorbenen großen Richard Swift, zu entdecken." Viel Spaß!

. 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

Strange Power!, the fifth record from Durham, NC-based songwriter and poet Anne Malin Ringwalt, emerges from the darkest waters of the self into a world remade. Releasing in conjunction with her second book of poetry, What Floods (Inside the Castle, Oct. 2024), Strange Power! overflows with Ringwalt's teeming and sensuous personal symbolry: glowing lilacs and gentle queens, dolphins wild and girls who grew up brave _ T.S. Eliot sung by Cat Power, backed by Mount Eerie. She sings: "I rose up from water." Ringwalt writes and performs with the authority of a lifetime spent harnessing the alchemy of storytelling; her belief in the power of words to heal and transform is palpable in each achingly- delivered lyric. Made amidst profound inner and outer change, Strange Power! also sees Ringwalt taking up the role of self-producer for the first time, mirroring and supporting the record's Orphic quest by gathering contributions from a coterie of friends wielding an electric range of American instruments. Violins, vibraphones, drum machines, electric guitars dappled with spring reverb, wind-blown shells, and a host of other numinous sounds form an unfurling and shadowy world which was then carefully honed during the mixing process (shepherded by Michael Cormier-O'Leary and Lucas Knapp) _ settling the final record in an eerie meridian between spareness and verdancy. The result is a beguiling and darkly blooming realm: the sound of a personal cosmos being remade, piece by piece. Ringwalt is at the height of her spirit as both songwriter-poet and singer, her willowy voice by turns conjuring and keening as she reckons with her deep past and the stories told since. Opening track "The Pines" sets the stage for a record of truly life-long scope: "I was a child, now I hold her / I was asleep for many years." Some songs, like the gorgeous "North Carolina" and "The Saint," were written as early as 2013 but, Ringwalt says, "insisted upon being remembered" as the record took shape; in its final form, they serve as inciting moments of self-discovery before the journey to come. "The Visionary" recalls one of Ringwalt's earliest musical breakthroughs _ her re-rendering of an Emily Brontë poem into a song at age 15 _ and, she says, "`cites' the melody of that song in the context of this new one _ a holding of the past and present and every layer in between/beyond, in utter solitude _ a solitude that reflects certain aspects of abandon as a child and an adult..." This unusually lengthy time-scale lends Strange Power! a deeply moving sense of narrative fullness. Stretches of the record _ particularly the "Judgment Day" ? "River" ? "Lilac Bloom" trifecta that form the black heart of Side 1 _ may recall familiar wanderings of personal underworlds such as Mount Eerie's Lost Wisdom Pt. 2 or Neil Young's Ditch Trilogy. Yet this hollowed landscape is in turn exorcized by the a capella "I Know," in which Ringwalt sings "I won't be gutted by you / For giving and trying to heal / I won't be gutted, I am not a fool / I deserve a love that is new" before the song concludes with a piano passage that recalls hymnal music _ suggesting a faith in life itself to offer new beginnings. Side 2 features some of Ringwalt's most powerfully introspective writing to date, as the songwriter casts off myth after myth in her search for personal transformation. By the final song, "Stories," the energy that has been gathering all throughout the record breaks loose as Ringwalt reflects: "I wrote so many stories, not knowing what the end was." But at this stage in the journey, we know there is no such thing as an ending; if the healing process is never complete, the storyteller's strange power is what finally offers liberation.

Als Gaerea aus dem pandemischen Limbo auftauchten, brachte die maskierte Band eine Vision von Black Metal auf die Bühne, die sich nicht von Mythen oder heidnischem Glauben leiten ließ - sondern von einer Läuterung der Gefühle. Die Welt nahm diese Vision schnell an und folgte ihnen auf Festivals, u.a. Hellfest, bis hin zu gut besuchten Touren durch China und die USA.

Mit "Coma" sind Gaerea nicht mehr nur Black Metal. Obwohl ihr viertes Album wieder von ihrem Vertrauten Miguel Tereso produziert wurde, erweitert es ihren charakteristischen Sound, indem es ihn in zwei scheinbar entgegengesetzte Richtungen führt. Es gibt mehr Momente von intensiver Schönheit, aber sie verstärken nur die darauf folgende Brutalität.
"World Ablaze" läutet diese neue Ära von Gearea ein, indem es eine konventionellere Songstruktur über feurigem Tremolo-Picking aufbaut. "Hope Shatters" stellt selbst die höchsten Fan-Erwartungen auf den Kopf: nachdem der Song unter seiner rasenden Schwere zusammenbricht, hängt die Melodie gefährlich in der Luft, wie ein schwankender Kronleuchter, bevor sie von hämmernden Bässen und erschütternden Blastbeats zertrümmert wird.

"I've known faces within me", schreit der Sänger nach einem langsamen und düsteren Gitarrensolo, bevor "Unknown" in eine messerscharfe Hook einrastet. “I transform with every passing moment”.

Mit "Coma" setzen sich Gaerea endgültig an die Spitze des extremen Metal!

FFO: Orbit Culture, Zeal & Ardor, Bad Omens

Als Gaerea aus dem pandemischen Limbo auftauchten, brachte die maskierte Band eine Vision von Black Metal auf die Bühne, die sich nicht von Mythen oder heidnischem Glauben leiten ließ - sondern von einer Läuterung der Gefühle. Die Welt nahm diese Vision schnell an und folgte ihnen auf Festivals, u.a. Hellfest, bis hin zu gut besuchten Touren durch China und die USA.

Mit "Coma" sind Gaerea nicht mehr nur Black Metal. Obwohl ihr viertes Album wieder von ihrem Vertrauten Miguel Tereso produziert wurde, erweitert es ihren charakteristischen Sound, indem es ihn in zwei scheinbar entgegengesetzte Richtungen führt. Es gibt mehr Momente von intensiver Schönheit, aber sie verstärken nur die darauf folgende Brutalität.
"World Ablaze" läutet diese neue Ära von Gearea ein, indem es eine konventionellere Songstruktur über feurigem Tremolo-Picking aufbaut. "Hope Shatters" stellt selbst die höchsten Fan-Erwartungen auf den Kopf: nachdem der Song unter seiner rasenden Schwere zusammenbricht, hängt die Melodie gefährlich in der Luft, wie ein schwankender Kronleuchter, bevor sie von hämmernden Bässen und erschütternden Blastbeats zertrümmert wird.

"I've known faces within me", schreit der Sänger nach einem langsamen und düsteren Gitarrensolo, bevor "Unknown" in eine messerscharfe Hook einrastet. “I transform with every passing moment”.

Mit "Coma" setzen sich Gaerea endgültig an die Spitze des extremen Metal!

FFO: Orbit Culture, Zeal & Ardor, Bad Omens

Als Gaerea aus dem pandemischen Limbo auftauchten, brachte die maskierte Band eine Vision von Black Metal auf die Bühne, die sich nicht von Mythen oder heidnischem Glauben leiten ließ - sondern von einer Läuterung der Gefühle. Die Welt nahm diese Vision schnell an und folgte ihnen auf Festivals, u.a. Hellfest, bis hin zu gut besuchten Touren durch China und die USA.

Mit "Coma" sind Gaerea nicht mehr nur Black Metal. Obwohl ihr viertes Album wieder von ihrem Vertrauten Miguel Tereso produziert wurde, erweitert es ihren charakteristischen Sound, indem es ihn in zwei scheinbar entgegengesetzte Richtungen führt. Es gibt mehr Momente von intensiver Schönheit, aber sie verstärken nur die darauf folgende Brutalität.
"World Ablaze" läutet diese neue Ära von Gearea ein, indem es eine konventionellere Songstruktur über feurigem Tremolo-Picking aufbaut. "Hope Shatters" stellt selbst die höchsten Fan-Erwartungen auf den Kopf: nachdem der Song unter seiner rasenden Schwere zusammenbricht, hängt die Melodie gefährlich in der Luft, wie ein schwankender Kronleuchter, bevor sie von hämmernden Bässen und erschütternden Blastbeats zertrümmert wird.

"I've known faces within me", schreit der Sänger nach einem langsamen und düsteren Gitarrensolo, bevor "Unknown" in eine messerscharfe Hook einrastet. “I transform with every passing moment”.

Mit "Coma" setzen sich Gaerea endgültig an die Spitze des extremen Metal!

FFO: Orbit Culture, Zeal & Ardor, Bad Omens

Atlas plays out like a half-remembered Greek epic of avant-pop proportions, piecing together earthy woodwinds, old-school synths, and shifting rhythmic patterns that enhance Jacob"s myth-inspired spoken word and bilingual vocals, delivered in Dutch and English.

Teho Teardo & Blixa Bargeld are back with their third album, nearly eight years after "Nerissimo", but time collapses and expands like an accordion. Especially those two stolen years that have disappeared from our accounts without a trace during the pandemic. The new album is titled "Christian & Mauro" and their real names on the header hint to a more personal landscape who allows them to go through elements of the past like "Bisogna Morire", an incredible passacaglia, a dance of death from 1600 that"s been reinvented from a contemporary perspective. Since their musical roots belongs also to the future, another consideration comes after a book by astrophysicist Carlo Rovelli, it opens up for a different look at the universe. It"s not always possible to discover new territories without consenting to lose sight of the shore for quite a good amount of time, so across these new ten songs Teho and Blixa allow themselves various detours playing a large array of instruments, using a mythological keyboard who can play with ciphers, letters, characters, sounds and noises. Using sounds transversely provides the cue to new possibilities to move forward in music. The album has been produced by Teho Teardo, Blixa Bargeld and Boris Wilsdorf both in Roma at Basement Recordings and at andereBaustelle in Berlin. This music joins again the sky between Roma and Berlin and the tour that will follow its release will take place from November 19th right in Roma and will take them all over Europe. Teho and Blixa will tour with Laura Bisceglia on cello and Gabriele Coen on bass clarinet, there will be on stage also a string quartet on each show.