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Dexys are back! 11 years since the release of their last album of original music, the acclaimed One Day I'm Going to Soar, the band return with a stunning new record, The Feminine Divine, out July 28th on 100% Records.

The Feminine Divine’s arrival is heralded by today’s release of the glorious first single ‘I’m Going To Get Free’, soaked in horns and with a heavy dance-hall feel. "The character is optimistically breaking free from internalised trauma, depression and guilt," Kevin Rowland said of the track.

The Feminine Divine is Dexys’ fifth album of original material produced once again by Pete Schwier, along with acclaimed session musician and producer Toby Chapman. After taking some time out to refocus his energy, Kevin Rowland came back to music with a fresh perspective and new-found positivity. A personal, if not strictly autobiographical, record portraying a man whose views have evolved over time. Not just on women, but the whole concept of masculinity he had been raised with: an education and an un-learning that is traced across the arc of The Feminine Divine with dizzying effect.

With two tracks on the album with Goddess in the title in ‘My Goddess Is’ and ‘Goddess Rules’, it’s no surprise Kevin chose to use a painting inspired by Pele, the Hawaiian goddess of fire and volcanoes, for the artwork.

Dipping into the archives for a song he’d originally written in 1991, the album’s opener, ‘The One That Loves You’, is a tough-guy feint before he lifts the curtain on “what I really feel”, as announced by a classic bit of Kevin spoken word that leads into the second track, ‘It’s Alright Kevin (Manhood 2023)’.

The record’s first half is full of music hall-esque swagger, much of it written with original Dexys’ trombonist Big Jim Paterson. The second side of the record is like nothing Dexys have done before. A saucy, synth-heavy cabaret, written in collaboration with Sean Read and Mike Timothy. It’s steamy, fizzing and sultry, at times doom-laden and heavy and at other times raunchy and funky. Quite a heady mix.

Today the band is more of an “organic” assemblage – Kevin, Jim (a non-touring band member), Sean Read and Mike Timothy. “It’s always just natural with me,” says Kevin. “The inspiration comes first, I think about what I can do, what songs I’ve got, then approach the band.” He describes their current lineup as “very much the nucleus, these days.”

With over a billion worldwide streams, three top 10 albums in the UK, two number 1 singles, a Brit Award and a multi-platinum selling album with their sophomore release Too-Rye-Ay (as Dexys Midnight Runners), Dexys are as vital and exciting today as ever. With live shows set to be announced shortly in support of the record, The Feminine Divine marks a new chapter in a book that just keeps getting better and better.

“I’ve been doing this a long time,” says Kevin. “But I feel I’ve got to it now.”

Bill MacKay and Drag City are delirious with pride to announce the discovery of a new territory: Locust Land, a record which seeks to reflect the nerve-shredding consciousness run amok in our world today - and somehow allay it with sound. Bill"s music is a visceral crackling where it meets the air, and Locust Land can"t help but reflect its era more than any other in his discography. It"s been five years since the release of Fountain Fire - but in the interim, Bill has barely stopped moving, collaborating with artists across the spectrum, including cellist Katinka Kleijn, banjo player Nathan Bowles and keyboardist Cooper Crain. He"s also contributed to recordings by Steve Gunn, Ryley Walker, Bill Callahan & Bonnie Prince Billy (Blind Date Party), and Black Duck (on their self-titled record featuring Douglas McCombs and Charles Rumback). Forget five years - how"d he even get Locust Land squeezed out of his temporal lobes? Bill"s sense of music as art is constantly modulating - lifting off from where it is found and naturally migrating to some other place. Sometimes, that"s elsewhere - others, it"s simply to be found deeper inside the starting point. And so, the action of moving on informs the landscape of Locust Land. This manifests in several different ways. A restless energy and urgency is repeatedly felt - in the driving momentum of "Keeping in Time," "Glow Drift," and "When I Was Here" - while a dogged persistence radiates from the tone colors and percussion of "Oh, Pearl." Mating a dirge-like desolation with sparkling guitars, "Radiator" adds darkness and depth. The sense of searching, displacement and longing in vocal tracks "Keeping in Time," "Half of You," and "When I Was Here" speak literally to the tumult of current vibrations. Within the arrangements, there"s also departure from previous norms - in addition to the brilliant guitar work for which he is known, Bill plays a variety of keyboards, from piano to organ to synth, extending his music with the available voicings, while enriching the sound field without abandoning his signature brevity. For fans of his singing, and following in the recent tradition of Fountain Fire as well as his collaboration with Nathan Bowles, Keys, Locust Land expresses with an increased vocal presence - and heightened engagement, with Bill"s words and melodies drawing us closer. Also different: on his previous solo recordings, Bill played every sound. Here, he has invited other illustrious Chicagoans to join him: Sam Wagster (The Father Costume, Mute Duo) plays bass on three songs, two of which feature the percussion playing of Mikel Patrick Avery (Natural Information Society, Jeff Parker, etc.). Additionally, Janet Beveridge Bean (Eleventh Dream Day, Freakwater) adds otherworldly vocal textures to the elegiac "Neil"s Field." Whether played alone or with companions, this music projects the strength of a universal collective. Even with a piece that might earlier have passed for blissful pastorale, Bill displays some declamatory motives. The reverie which opens the album, "Phantasmic Fairy," embodies both transcendent and desperate moods, with Bill"s ineffable slide guitar playing afloat, with organs and synths, in a dream state suffused with a sense of foreboding - a requiem, perhaps for the days of unencumbered bandwidth? On the other side of the album, the strength to continue to hope appears in the lifting melodicism/exoticism of the album-closing title track, leaving the listener with the sense of having achieved a hard-won space - a place of personal contemplation and dissent, one that everyone on the planet deserves to visit every single day on earth. With cover art also by Bill MacKay (the third of his albums on Drag City to feature his work), Locust Land stands as a thoroughly personal statement from Bill to everyone everywhere.

Bill MacKay and Drag City are delirious with pride to announce the discovery of a new territory: Locust Land, a record which seeks to reflect the nerve-shredding consciousness run amok in our world today - and somehow allay it with sound. Bill"s music is a visceral crackling where it meets the air, and Locust Land can"t help but reflect its era more than any other in his discography. It"s been five years since the release of Fountain Fire - but in the interim, Bill has barely stopped moving, collaborating with artists across the spectrum, including cellist Katinka Kleijn, banjo player Nathan Bowles and keyboardist Cooper Crain. He"s also contributed to recordings by Steve Gunn, Ryley Walker, Bill Callahan & Bonnie Prince Billy (Blind Date Party), and Black Duck (on their self-titled record featuring Douglas McCombs and Charles Rumback). Forget five years - how"d he even get Locust Land squeezed out of his temporal lobes? Bill"s sense of music as art is constantly modulating - lifting off from where it is found and naturally migrating to some other place. Sometimes, that"s elsewhere - others, it"s simply to be found deeper inside the starting point. And so, the action of moving on informs the landscape of Locust Land. This manifests in several different ways. A restless energy and urgency is repeatedly felt - in the driving momentum of "Keeping in Time," "Glow Drift," and "When I Was Here" - while a dogged persistence radiates from the tone colors and percussion of "Oh, Pearl." Mating a dirge-like desolation with sparkling guitars, "Radiator" adds darkness and depth. The sense of searching, displacement and longing in vocal tracks "Keeping in Time," "Half of You," and "When I Was Here" speak literally to the tumult of current vibrations. Within the arrangements, there"s also departure from previous norms - in addition to the brilliant guitar work for which he is known, Bill plays a variety of keyboards, from piano to organ to synth, extending his music with the available voicings, while enriching the sound field without abandoning his signature brevity. For fans of his singing, and following in the recent tradition of Fountain Fire as well as his collaboration with Nathan Bowles, Keys, Locust Land expresses with an increased vocal presence - and heightened engagement, with Bill"s words and melodies drawing us closer. Also different: on his previous solo recordings, Bill played every sound. Here, he has invited other illustrious Chicagoans to join him: Sam Wagster (The Father Costume, Mute Duo) plays bass on three songs, two of which feature the percussion playing of Mikel Patrick Avery (Natural Information Society, Jeff Parker, etc.). Additionally, Janet Beveridge Bean (Eleventh Dream Day, Freakwater) adds otherworldly vocal textures to the elegiac "Neil"s Field." Whether played alone or with companions, this music projects the strength of a universal collective. Even with a piece that might earlier have passed for blissful pastorale, Bill displays some declamatory motives. The reverie which opens the album, "Phantasmic Fairy," embodies both transcendent and desperate moods, with Bill"s ineffable slide guitar playing afloat, with organs and synths, in a dream state suffused with a sense of foreboding - a requiem, perhaps for the days of unencumbered bandwidth? On the other side of the album, the strength to continue to hope appears in the lifting melodicism/exoticism of the album-closing title track, leaving the listener with the sense of having achieved a hard-won space - a place of personal contemplation and dissent, one that everyone on the planet deserves to visit every single day on earth. With cover art also by Bill MacKay (the third of his albums on Drag City to feature his work), Locust Land stands as a thoroughly personal statement from Bill to everyone everywhere.

Matching his signature melodic futurism with enduring club music structures, Pev brings the Pulse series to a natural conclusion with the Pulse Phase EP. On this third release he underlines the broader approach to tempos and styles he’s taken across this latest period of his output, soon to be coalesced into a new live set.

If there’s been a nostalgic streak detectable amongst the crisp modernism of the Pulse series, it comes through clearer than ever in the looped-up house jack and starry-eyed techno synth hooks of ‘Pulse IX’. ‘Pulse TEN’ pares back for a lean soundsystem workout driven by a strafing arp and fractured drums while ‘Pulse XI’ revisits 90s bleep techno with a deep, dubby intention. ‘Pulse XII’ completes the picture capturing the skeletal pressure of 2-step at its most slender and deadly.

There’s never a sense of over-familiarity — the exacting angles of the drums and alien hue of the synths maintain Pev’s distinctive sound first and foremost. But this series has also been an opportunity to hear some of his musical DNA more explicitly than before, cast in universal rave motifs propelled by the unrelenting pursuit of new forms for the dance.

Livity Sound is a label set up by Peverelist in 2011 as a vehicle for a raw and exploratory strain of UK techno, rooted in the heritage of UK dance music and sound system culture. It has since become one of the UK's foremost protagonists for cutting edge underground electronic music.

Austere Recordings are back with their 10th release, having always favoured quality over quantity. LAAK feature once again on a 200 limited hand stamped ep, serving up their usual high calibre tracks.

With this new project, their fourth full-length work, Tupperwear completely departs from the "stylish" electronics and trends to delve into a profound exploration of the fundamentals of music.
It involves a quest or even a game through the extrapolation of geometry into various musical parameters, encompassing classical aspects like pitch, timbre, rhythm, intensity, etc., as well as noise, textures, or the implicit mathematics in natural or irrational elements.
Pentagonono delves into cosmology and nature. It is a musical approach without prejudices to basic numerology that unveils the universe, the harmonic scale, the number e, and logarithmic spirals. The golden ratio (phi) and the omnipresent number pi are also explored. Geometric shapes, proportions, and divisions of vibrating elements are transmitted through the air, internalized by humans, and transformed into music.
Following in the footsteps of previous sound explorers from various spatial and temporal origins such as Gamelan music with its infinite polyrhythmic replication, Psychedelia, Serialism, Musique Concrète, Bach, or J Dilla, this album presents itself as a materialization of ideas and concerns that, while already present in the band's musical understanding, are now brought to the forefront as if it were a vital manifesto.

Composed by Jim O’Rourke and pieced together by Jim together with longtime collaborator and trumpeter Eivind Lønning at Jim and Eiko Ishibashi’s home in the Japanese mountains, this engrossing new album blows brass wails and tense fanfares across O'Rourke's manipulated Kyma tapestries for a deep, captivating trip into the aether.

Eivind Lønning has been sharing ideas with O'Rourke for several years: the duo collaborated on music for the Whitney's 'Calder: Hypermobility' exhibition, and Lønning played trumpet on O'Rourke's brilliant 2020 album 'Shutting Down Here'. For this new work, Lønning headed to O'Rourke and EIko Ishibashi's home studio in the Japanese mountains, where he teased unfamiliar, alien textures from his trumpet to open the labyrinthine three-part composition. O'Rourke took the material and subsequently funnelled it through his Kyma system, transforming it into a swirl of sound that hums alongside Lønning's original takes. The album was composed, mixed and mastered by O'Rourke, with everything's based on Lønning's virtuosic performance.

The album begins by cautiously introducing us to its sonic palette: wavering, bird-like horn wails that O'Rourke contorts around quiet synth oscillations and computerised swarms. Lønning's spittle-drenched blasts are given the spotlight, but O'Rourke's manipulations - often gentle and illusory, and sometimes utterly lacerating - lift the sounds into completely new territory. When Lønning begins to turn rhythmic cycles using the trumpet keys, popping with his mouth to compliment its leathery timbre, O'Rourke replies with dense, hallucinatory drones, juxtaposing unstable electronics with Lønning's breathy, sustained notes. All these sounds coalesce into a dizzy vortex, but O'Rourke is careful not to overwhelm the senses, dropping to near silence as the first act transitions into the second. O'Rourke pelts Lønning's vertiginous wails, steadily mutating them into Xenakis-like stabs until they sound like cybernetic strings and icy tones that extract the tension from Lønning's brassy harmonics.

The third act is more screwed, with O'Rourke allowing Lønning's improvisations wail into cathedral-strength reverb, accompanying the sound with glassy penetrations and throbbing subs. Here, Lønning sounds as if he's heralding the arrival of a celestial being, piercing the atmosphere with bright, sustained tones and muted, jazzy flourishes. O'Rourke hangs back, carefully spinning the notes into naturalistic fibres and orchestral drapery, before he allows the electronics to subside completely and the trumpet to echo into the imposing negative space.

'Most, but Potentially All' is a dumbfounding piece that shifts the dial on contemporary experimental music; dizzyingly complex but never showy, it's the kind of record you can spin repeatedly and hear something different each time. As an exploration of the trumpet, it's a unique expression, and as a progression of electro-acoustic compositional techniques, it draws a deep trench in the sand, setting a new standard.

With his new instrumental album Ventas Rumba, the French composer (and singer) returns to his signature instrument, the piano, blending it with warm synth tones. This album represents a "return to his roots ", allowing Ezéchiel Pailhès to reinvent himself in a seamless way while still exploring ballads and ritornellos, halfway between light-heartedness and melancholy. Ezéchiel Pailhès has been meaning to write a solo piano album for as long as he can remember. Hardly surprising, of course, for this academically-trained pianist, brought up on classical music and then studied jazz. Yet, since his 2001 debut with the electro-pop duo Nôze, and his subsequent four albums, the artist had constantly postponed this project that was so close to his heart. Then in 2022, just as he was getting ready to start producing an album of new songs, this long-standing aim finally materialized.
The melodies he wrote seemed to stand on their own naturally, spurring him on to compose this series of fourteen tracks, recorded in sessions split between France and Latvia.
A new piano: the Una Corda
Ezéchiel wanted this project dedicated to the piano to begin a new narrative, to explore new instrumental terrain and new tones, something far removed from the familiar piano he has been playing all his life. He opted for the Una Corda piano, designed by David Klavins, a groundbreaking instrument builder renowned for his distinctive pianos with vertical shapes and frames.

The Una Corda, created in 2014, is an upright piano with a single string per note (unlike three strings on traditional pianos). Enticed by the "crystalline and unique" tones of this instrument, which is hard to find in France, Ezéchiel travelled to Kuldiga, Latvia (where David Klavins set up his workshops and studios), to record the first part of the album. Although the title of the album may initially conjure up images of a distant, sensual dance, the reality is quite different. Ventas Rumba indeed refers to the waterfall and rapids (in Latvian: rumba) of the river Ventas, which runs near this small village in the western part of the country. Ezéchiel chose to blur the lines, as the sound and musicality of the title likely evoke both his short stay in the Baltic country, and also a form of distant exotic imagery perfectly in tune with his own mischievous wit. Tracks as short stories

Back in France, Ezéchiel enhanced the first tracks recorded in Kuldiga with subtle synth tone layers, and added other tracks composed and recorded at his Montreuil studio. The album reflects a deliberate and sensitive orchestration of piano, synth keyboards and digital effects, as he puts it: "playing to erase the differences between the tones of the various instruments", as if each instrument's texture echoed the others. According to Ezéchiel, you can listen to Ventas Rumba as you would leaf through "a collection of short stories", through compositions that rarely exceed three minutes and evoke figures of movement, lightness, curves or modulation, such as "La ligne", "La valse des singes" or "Fly Finger". Others more seriously relate to a kind of spirituality, which quietly infuses such different tracks as "Ferveur", "Éclair" and "Louanges". Ezéchiel adds: “I’m by no means religious, but I like what God has managed to get musicians to achieve (laughs)". "Louanges", for instance, despite its electronic edge, "refers to Olivier Messiaen, a very devout composer who I greatly admire". Other tracks are directly inspired by the classical music he listens to on a daily basis. For example, Chopin's “8th Nocturne” formed the backdrop of “Pianovado”. Likewise, the harmonic structure of Beethoven's “Waldstein Sonata No. 21” inspired “Opus 53”. Aside from these multiple references and inspirations, which quickly recede behind a style that is uniquely his, Ezéchiel Pailhès keeps exploring ideas already found on his first solo albums, this time in an instrumental format, undoubtedly purer, fostering an imaginary world that evokes the shapes and themes of ballads, ritornellos, light-heartedness, passing time, reverie or a universal subdued melancholy.

Church Andrews and Matt Davies weave intricate patterns from Fibonacci sequences on new mini-album, Yucca.

Producer and composer Church Andrews (aka Kirk Barley) and drummer Matt Davies return to explore the outer limits of rhythm on a six-track suite that is at once angular and fluid, natural and systematic. Drawn to the restrictions of working solely with one synth and live drums, the pair found creativity in limitation, developing a compositional dialogue between the sonic timbres of Kirk’s productions and Matt’s percussive practice.

Evoking the primitive yet complex form of the plant from which it takes its name, Yucca features tracks that are built around rhythmic ratios of the Fibonacci sequence. Mirroring spiral patterns exhibited in nature, each track evolves like a cellular structure of its own, from the livewire syntax of ‘Chirp’ and the deconstructed ebb and flow of ‘Ferns’, to the mini-album’s title track, where crisp grooves flit between modulated electronics like fireflies.

“I’ve always been inspired by music that is complex without sounding complex,” Matt explains. He maintains a sense of bounce amid the intricate phrasing and cites drummers Roy Haynes and his grandson Marcus Gilmore as inspirations, alongside sabar drummers from Senegal and Mridangam drumming of South India.

With a shared background in hip-hop and the swung beats of J Dilla and Flying Lotus, Kirk Barley and Matt Davies were also inspired by the minimalism of Terry Riley and the sparse palette of dub techno.

Written and recorded in Lewisham in the spring and summer of 2023, Yucca follows the release of Axis in 2022, with the duo having also performed at festivals such as Rewire and Waking Life, and recorded live sessions for FACT magazine and Worldwide FM.

The third release on Yorkshire-based Odda Recordings, following Kirk Barley’s Marionette and Flaer’s Preludes, Yucca confirms the label’s reputation for championing music on the unstable ground between the organic and the synthetic.

"Katie Crutchfield, under the name Waxahatchee, made her debut album during a snowstorm in the winter of 2012. She dedicated it “to anyone who had woke up and realized their identity is blurry, has had to clumsily get to know themselves, has hit a bottom, has felt self-deprecating and vagrant, and to anyone who has ridden out a shitstorm.”

She called it American Weekend. She means “American Weekend” in the same wide way that Kurt Cobain means “Teen Spirit,” less social construct than natural phenomenon. This is a lo-fi masterpiece in the league of Lou Barlow and the Softies. We should consider it a descendent of Bruce Springsteen’s Nebraska, or else temper it no lower than Essential Listening."

By now one of our most cherished and respected portuguese songwriters, Maria Reis has been steadily creating a legacy that will undoubtedly endure in the portuguese songwriting canon for years to come. Co-founder of the Lisbon based Cafetra label- collective, Reis spent her teenage years honing her craft, particularly with her co- leading role on Pega Monstro with her sister Júlia Reis, with albums like 'Alfarroba' and 'Casa de Cima' on Upset !the Rhythm and whose indefinite hiatus since 2018 opened the gateway for a prolific solo venture. After a raw debut EP released in 2017 – Maria -, 2019 saw the release of the celebrated 'Chove na Sala, Água nos Olhos', a definitive statement of Reis' almost casual gift of painting vivid and impressionistic portraits of everyday life, conveying all the anger, resignation and melancholic joy of moving on. Two years later, following a string of widely praised live appearances, Reis records the 'Flor da Urtiga' EP with musical production of Noah Lennox aka Panda Bear, a sweeter affair, crossed by a witty irony that tackles such subjects as family, love and toxic masculinity, through layered acoustic guitars, lightweight percussion and joyful harmonies. 'Benefício da Dúvida' from 2022, strips back most of the production to rely on simple but affirmative arrangements assembled with the help of her sister Júlia and longtime collaborator Leonardo Bindilatti.

And now, almost two years on the clock after 'Benefício da Dúvida', Maria Reis returns with a newfound maturity with 'Suspiro...' - Portuguese for sigh. Created in close collaboration with Tomé Silva - a young and versatile musician and producer who's been recently leaving a mark on the portuguese scene - and recorded in the intimacy of the latter's bedroom, 'Suspiro...' doesn't cut ties with that recent past but reflects the learning process embedded in previous ventures in its lyrics and arrangements, towards song's eternity. A projection of different emotional states and physical spaces throughout these years, 'Suspiro...' carries in the apparent simplicity of its title the plurality of meanings found in such a natural act, from anger to being in love, from resignation to resilience. Life in a sigh? We've been further from that.

An attentive and sensitive observer of both intimate and surrounding spaces, Maria Reis continues to explore wordplay in her very personal manner, a poetic act as brutally honest as filled with imagery allusions, enchanting the mundane with lyricism. Touched by a resigned and dreamy melancholy, 'Suspiro...' settles, for the most part, on electric and acoustic guitar lines, simple but expressive rhythms, floating vocal harmonies and a voice almost tangible in the way it conveys memorable hooks without fear of appearing both fragile and tenacious. 'Amor Serpente's low key tragedy turned mantra for life, the blissed pop of 'Estagnação' or 'T-shirt', 'Holofote's flailing rawness, the mesmerizing sparkle of 'Pico', 'Meta Data's electrified energy or the playful keyboards and sound effects of 'Coisas do Passado' composing a lively portrait of reality and expectations where we can all see ourselves reflected in. For Maria, almost a second nature, that through all her honesty, know how and imagination, reaches a new life with 'Suspiro...'.

Although the band is partly known for being the first band that Philip Anselmo (PANTERA, DOWN, NECROPHAGIA) was part of, RAZOR WHITE represents much more than that, especially for aficionados of heavy metal made in the United States. An example of this is the tremendous 1988 cassette ("The Black Demo"), which contains a valuable proof of what late 80's US Metal could offer. But RAZOR WHITE aren't just a page of 80's metal glory.

The 1991 album "Just What The Doctor Ordered" represented the natural next step for many bands at the time: an album with a better production and more mature, only released on CD, being nowadays a highly sought after collectors item.

“A corollary is a statement that follows naturally from another statement”

Presenting Corollary1, the first release in a new remix series flipping cuts from O.M.Theorem’s Lemma projects.

For this one we invited good friends DJ Sotofett and Ossia. Regular conspirators in bacalao and dosa dinners, monthly hangouts at Globus-Tresor and sound system parties in Milano & Bristol. Through appreciation of similar frequencies and shared experiences, friendships grow. It felt natural to invite the two to do remixes for us. One evening we bumped into them on the dancefloor during a live concert by Senegalese percussion outfit Ndagga Rhythm. This was a sign. BAM! The EP came alive.

On the A-side, we hear two fresh takes on Lemma1-B2. DJ Sotofett with his dub heavy output on Honest Jon's and Sex Tags Amfibia invites Ghanese Afro-Dub drummer Ekowmania for vocals and usual collaborator LNS for keyboard work on his sub-deep club-stepping colourful remix. We bet the infectious vocals will linger in your mind for a long time. Play it LOUD for full sub bass effect! The second interpretation of the same track is from O.M.Theorem. A techy dubstep banger, this one!

On the B side, Bristol and Peng! Sound's Ossia picked his favorite Lemma1-B1 and drove the mixing desk in true Dub-style fashion with a classic riddim that meets an avant garde melody going in and out of the mix. This is a remix that deserves attention, with every listen revealing new layers and details. Even the premasters sounded phat as a greasy hamburger on the German capital’s legendary Super Power Soundsystem! The second interpretation is from O.M.Theorem, rebuilding percussion and bass from Lemma1-A1. Liberating himself from all restrictions the result is a footwork-reminiscent 160 cut, ready for the dance floor.

GRAMMY-award nominated Jordan Rakei is a renowned multi-instrumentalist, vocalist, producer, and songwriter who, over soon-to-be-five studio albums, has been on a wide-ranging journey that explores the outer reaches of his inner psyche, traversing themes of emotional evolution, personal growth and family with unwavering sincerity. Always positioning himself in and amongst the bigger questions in life, he has navigated his musical journey with passion and precision, unveiling something new about himself through his songwriting at every turn. The Loop is by far Rakei’s most cohesive and evolutionary work to date following an impressive career of previous releases, each of which have demonstrated his natural curiosity and capabilities in exploring new sounds.

Repress!

Extending the heritage left from the first chapter of the homonymous collection, Schema Records presents "Freedom Jazz Dance Book II". The concept comes from an idea of Luciano Cantone aiming at offering "New Standards" that can be understood and responsively absorbed by young generations. The title deriving from a composition from Eddie Harris describes precisely the project's essence: the intuition of something overcoming hurdles laid by rigid market rules. From this, the artistic meaning of "Freedom", solid funded in "Jazz", from which spawns subsequently the natural impulse to movement, manifesting in "Dance" in fact. With "swing" setting the right pathway without hesitations, the objective of the project remains capturing younger people inside the magic of Jazz. The only possible way it's organic: by leaving the music to free up the spirit within themselves.

The title of the Lau Nau's 10th album, Aphrilis, derives from the Latin word aperire, meaning "to open." A fitting verb for the month of the year it is closely associated with — April. And while the images of plants and blossoms coming back to colorful life after a long, cold winter feels appropriate when listening to the rich and lustrous bloom of music on Aphrilis, another definition of open feels even more apt. For under the abundance lies the memory of times of austerity, the friction of hard choices, the acceptance that nothing is fixed and the future is unknown. This literal and metaphorical exploration of complexity and contradiction makes Aphrilis a multi-dimensional antidote for our troubled times, one that emphasizes the quiet and communal over noise and spectacle. Laura Naukkarinen, the Finnish artist behind this project, has long kept her mind and spirit open to whatever sounds and creative ideas felt appropriate for the moment. For the past six years that has meant primarily working with modular synthesis — learning how to build modules and releasing acclaimed work centered on its sounds like 5x4 (2023) or Puutarhassa (2022). Running parallel to this work, however, has been a continued exploration of acoustic instruments and group performances with her trio Lau Nau ja Seitsemäs Taivas. Aphrilis arrives then like fresh growth in a creative season cycle. A companion to her brilliant 2017 release Poseidon, the album, says Naukkarinen, "felt like a needed moment to embrace songs with lyrics again." And through the creation of this work, she remained open not only to her own creative muse, but also the input of her chosen collaborators. Each player on Aphrilis — Matti Bye on celesta and synths, Pekko Käppi on jouhikko, Hermanni Yli-Tepsa on violin and contrabass, Topias Tiheäsalo on electric guitar, Samuli Kosminen (Múm) on various instruments — was given free reign to arrange their own parts to accompany Naukkarinen's compositions. Kosminen’s lush fingerprint can also be heard in the mixing and production of the album, as with Poseidon six years ago. The moniker of this project may be taken from Naukkarinen’s own name, but Lau Nau feels more like a band than ever before. The delicacy and softness of the music is reflected in Naukkarinen’s lyrics. Each song is rife with imagery and creatures from the natural world. The spiders in the forest. The animals that keep a young woman company in her refuge in the woods. Wet grass. The feeling of the music is almost tactile, as if listening to the album will leave a bit of dew or sap on your fingers. The theme of this material, says Naukkarinen, runs even deeper. “The songs tell about cracks and changes of direction in different histories: personal, societal, planetary,” she says. “About moments when a yes can become a no and vice versa. The album wants to propose that at the moment of a crisis there is a possibility to influence the histories by our choices.” That may feel like a lot for such a fragile sounding collection of songs to bear. But Aphrilis is an album of surprising strength and resilience

The collaboration between renowned drummer Jim White and acclaimed guitarist Marisa Anderson is a natural union of two of the most intuitive players and listeners working in music. Jim White is known for his groundbreaking trio, Dirty Three, as well as duo, Xylouris White. His list of collaborations is vast and include artists such as Nick Cave, Bill Callahan, Cat Power, Marnie Stern and Warren Ellis. Jim just released his debut solo album, All Hits: Memories. Marisa Anderson, known primarily for her solo work, in demand collaborator who has worked with Tashi Dorji, Sharon Van Etten, Yasmine Williams and Michael Hurley. She has released records with William Tyler and Tara Jane O"neal. White and Anderson are each highly sought after collaborators in no small part because of their mastery, versatility and highly expressive playing. Their sophomore album, Swallowtail, finds the duo completely attuned to each other, fluidly moving as wind and water. They avoid preconceived movements, instead focusing on their musical conversation. As Anderson puts it: "The ideas aren"t the music, they are the pathway into the musical possibilities." Their skillful interplay creates an effervescence throughout the album. The ebb and flow to the duo"s motions bring a sense of serenity and ease to spontaneous transitions, each swell and retraction sounding as free as it does inevitable. White and Anderson"s preternatural alchemy as a duo allows each fleeting gesture to feel featherlight and stirring while maintaining an inquisitive spirit. Their music is an enchanting and illuminating.

The collaboration between renowned drummer Jim White and acclaimed guitarist Marisa Anderson is a natural union of two of the most intuitive players and listeners working in music. Jim White is known for his groundbreaking trio, Dirty Three, as well as duo, Xylouris White. His list of collaborations is vast and include artists such as Nick Cave, Bill Callahan, Cat Power, Marnie Stern and Warren Ellis. Jim just released his debut solo album, All Hits: Memories. Marisa Anderson, known primarily for her solo work, in demand collaborator who has worked with Tashi Dorji, Sharon Van Etten, Yasmine Williams and Michael Hurley. She has released records with William Tyler and Tara Jane O"neal. White and Anderson are each highly sought after collaborators in no small part because of their mastery, versatility and highly expressive playing. Their sophomore album, Swallowtail, finds the duo completely attuned to each other, fluidly moving as wind and water. They avoid preconceived movements, instead focusing on their musical conversation. As Anderson puts it: "The ideas aren"t the music, they are the pathway into the musical possibilities." Their skillful interplay creates an effervescence throughout the album. The ebb and flow to the duo"s motions bring a sense of serenity and ease to spontaneous transitions, each swell and retraction sounding as free as it does inevitable. White and Anderson"s preternatural alchemy as a duo allows each fleeting gesture to feel featherlight and stirring while maintaining an inquisitive spirit. Their music is an enchanting and illuminating.

Originally released on tape by SicSic in 2014, Aprilnacht commemorates a decade of music from Brannten Schnüre and marked the spring in a tetralogy of albums about the four seasons when it came out. Back then the Würzburg-based project consisted solely of Christian Schoppik, who later welcomed Katie Rich to take over the vocals. He used to perform as Agnes Beil, but dropped the name when, while making this album realized his music was becoming "much gentler and more fragile". Aprilnacht already captured the particular musical ideas that Schoppik would thoroughly keep exploring, delving deeper and deeper into the use and manipulation of samplers from sources so diverging as to wander between the five continents to post-war German family television and cult cinema. Heir of the ritualistic intensity of Coil, of the intricate sampler assemblies of Ghédalia Tazartès', and of the dusty, dismal old ballads from around the world, Brannten Schnüre manages to make these paths cross in a territory that is as inherent as it is uncanny; sieged by the past and intimate as a hearth. An organic approach to folk, ambient, and sound collage, where ethereal yet thoroughly textured pieces coalesce in enthralling, delicate, and innermost musical rituals.

The album cover paintings reveal the temper: dreary old towns where shadows come to dim the slow passage of crepuscular colors, a soft area of reanimation where wind and light come close and foresee the night of spring. Aprilnacht was inspired by the stories of German philosopher and writer Friedrich Alfred Schmid Noerr, whose work exhaustively examines the conflict between paganism and Christianity, safeguarding myth in a way that Schoppik describes as boldly modern, humorous and unpredictable in its variations of the Germanic folklore motifs. "I wanted to do the same with the music," he states, and the music here could as well be suitable for a night when household deities welcome wandering will-o'-the-wisps, water nymphs, and gyrovagues to discuss Perchta's leadership of The Wild Hunt, but this album is not a folk tale, it's not an elegy to worlds already gone, hidden in years; it's an intersection of routes that open mysteriously before our ears like a congregation of vapors. Aprilnacht is a gathering of voices; "There are too many children, and none of them keeps quiet," reads the last verse of «Requiem für eine Ringelnatter.»

Sensuality drips over the music to celebrate both the voluptuousness and tragic quality of nature; "It's raining on me, urine from your flowers," Schoppik sings in «Urin deiner Blüten» and later on, faced with a snake's erotic features, as if he wanted to be embraced by it: "Your quick, sharp tongue and your warm venom; that's what the pond is missing." Orality is where this profusion of contents thrives. When the voices get closer and condense, the words reveal the saliva employed to pronounce them; we feel the mouth and the tongue, but when breath envelops them in sorrow and softens their edges, they sound distant, diffused in the atmosphere, letting go of the body that held them. These two vocal facets oscillate permanently and interact naturally with the fertile assembly of samplers and instruments that develop throughout the album, which condense and disperse impersonating each other, interweaving to search for a specific syntax. Tangled whisperings of enigmatic phrases, timid voices that stick out to check the scene but hide away quickly, shivering trance chants and monastic ambiances, distant screams and clamors in between chaos and warfare swirl until bursting into subtle songs where even Mother Mary comes forth softly. Soothed by foggy atmospheres and crackling punctuations, these voices shape a vulnerable crowd, an occasion of fragility. Along this swarm of songs thrown into thin air, accordions sound like heavy-breathing lungs; clarinets sigh like curtains shaking; violin solos wander around like bees; Gjallarhorns cries distend like fleeing cattle; glockenspiels evoke remote music boxes and inherited toys; backward emanations emerge like slender waves retreating. On the banks of stretching loops and ember textures is where the songs slowly nest, collecting the words to find their tone.

A poem by Jorge Teillier says, "To talk with the dead you have to choose words that they recognize as easily as their hands recognized the fur of their dogs in the dark. To talk with the dead you have to know how to wait: they are fearful like the first steps of a child. But if we are patient one day they will answer us with a flame that suddenly revives in the fireplace." This may be Brannten Schnüre's main purpose: To find the voice to speak to those of whom we were a vision. Not in mourning, but acknowledging the obscure and volatile nature of spring's regenerative force, searching for the treasure of balance, as evidenced in the lyrics of «Requiem für ein Schwalbennest,» "Its nest was destroyed so many times before it was finished, and despite that, the shallow builds as if it is infatuated." The same idea is here in the words of Schmid Noerr, who made poetry an act of resistance to the horror of Nazism; "Since having seen the ability of a brilliant spirit to die, with a calm mouth that everyone saw, health is true again and we affirm it, even if rivers of blood flow." And as we call for the dusk's kindness, waiting to return home and eat with our kin by the stove, our ears become used to the games of the night. We feel like we're rowing on wetlands, while the "moon musick" keeps us vigilant against the slightest movement of water or sweet moan because eeriness here is imperative for survival. Do not succumb to the insipid howl of death, for nothing may last but mutability. You see, the rock has moved a little during the night; the rest is just wind fleeing from the void.

Glasgow’s Somewhere Press return with their inaugural vinyl release, a new album from Madelyn Byrd aka Slowfoam. Mining the seam between ecology and technology, Byrd offsets syrupy, dissociated electronics with sparse acoustic instrumentation and expressive field recordings.

The polyrhythmic pulse of the natural world surges through Byrd’s productions, and though the sounds are mostly electronic and strictly metered, a landscape teeming with insects, birds, and wildlife fills the horizon. We’re languidly ushered through the gates on the opening 'Enlightened Smudge on the Machine', juxtaposing glassy tones with flute (from Berlin-based sound artist Diane Barbé) and skittering percussion that could have been lifted straight off Björk’s 'Vespertine'. "No traffic, under the stem," a stoic voice muses while sounds dissolve into waterlogged ambience. There are hints of vintage West Coast new age music, but Byrds' over-arching theme is one of a contemporary digital reality slowly harmonising with its distant, bucolic past.

Field recordist Pablo Diserens provides some of the album's most arcane material, handing over environmental recordings of sulphur pools, Arctic terns and glacial streams. The lengthy 'Divine Morpho, Shimmering' deploys a swarm of insects, forming a looped, uneven rhythm that counters Byrd's pulsing electronics. Choral stems mesh with uncanny strings, blurring the line that separates artificial from organic sound sources. Byrd uses mutation and reconstruction as a form of "speculative melting" to bring us closer to utopia. On 'Like Phantom Memories In The Slinking Storm’, one of the album's most levitational moments, they tease twangy harp-lyre plucks into dubbed-out smudges, eventually given a reprise on 'Grief Rituals' where the same riffs are stretched into slower phrases, queered against giddy, xenharmonic drones.

Bird calls and tremulous exotica mark the brilliant 'Fragrant Dusking', and ‘Soft Body Virisdescence' takes us to a gurgling, kaleidoscopic climax, with electronic processes thrust into the foreground. 'Of Data & Delight' distills all the album’s sonic elements into a sort of delirious fever dream, using pitched animal calls to signal sensuality. It's not ambient, exactly, even if it shares space with the 3XL crew's sludgy eroticism, and it's not wholeheartedly electro-acoustic either. The record exists at a place of convergence, as one era wrestles with a new dawn, and real life glimpses high fantasy.