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“The hand knows best,” the painter Margaux Williamson says. “A shape produces itself, where I go toward what is intuitive, rather than logical.” The shapely, intuitive songs that comprise Ada Lea's third album, when i paint my masterpiece, are surprising, imagistic, tactile. They stand before us and we feel their brushstrokes. Alexandra Levy holds her guitar against the backdrop of a sea of her paintings on the album cover and it’s tempting to ask: is painting a metaphor here, for music or life? No! As ever, she resists tidy metaphors. She’s a master of this kind of thorny lowercase title that germinates and grows with time. In a real, profound way, music and painting go hand-in-hand as she unveils a new style of subversion and surrealism inspired by her transdisciplinarity.

Levy is a Renaissance woman, and Ada Lea’s albums have been swelling in scope alongside the evolution of her artistic life. Her recent turn toward pedagogy—teaching a songwriting course at Concordia University and co-facilitating a community-based group called The Songwriting Method—weaves another vivid thread into her multifaceted practice. Her debut LP, what we say in private, blurred the lines between interior and performative worlds. Her sophomore record, one hand on the steering wheel the other sewing a garden, featured vignettes centered on Montreal. On this sprawling and ambitious album, written over three years and whittled down from over 200 songs, she asks: what happens when you… pause? How can a life be held suspended in song? The album is a kaleidoscopic exploration of the transformations art can bring: the vision of an uncompromising artist dancing bravely and freely between registers and across mediums.

The album marks a reset—a quiet revolution. After years of relentless international touring, Levy felt an urgent need for community and renewal. Gruelling road schedules with very little support left her wondering: who am I really doing all this for? The system was uncaring and broken, and so it was that she came to envision a new healthy and healing mode of musical genesis. “For me, that looked like resting, extending my creative reach, going back to school, studying painting and poetry,” she explains. “Taking a step away from music as guided by industry expectations. Simplifying things. Getting a job, starting to teach. Engaging with the process rather than the product.” This need for a more deliberate creative renewal was rejected by her existing systems of support, so she began the search for an alternative.

Vines, the solo project of New York-based multi-instrumentalist and composer Cassie Wieland, offers a window into her inner world through expansive swaths of sound. She pieces together a celestial mix of synths, percussion, strings, and vocoded voice, making music that is at once deeply personal and cinematic in scope. This diaristic approach first took shape with her 2023 EP Birthday Party, and is crystallized on her debut LP, I’ll be here. With the sweeping and vulnerable I’ll be here, Vines arrives fully formed as an artist who crafts deeply resonant and open music–the kind that invites listeners in to listen, reflect, and share in the journey of learning through living.

“It was through making music that I was able to meet myself,” Wieland said. “Anything I’m going through or feeling is something that somebody else out there can relate to, and that’s really special to me.”

I’ll be here is both a culmination of years spent creating gossamer soundscapes and an opening to a new journey for Wieland as an artist. The album grew out of her years as a composer and songwriter, and builds on the language she developed on Birthday Party, which transformed the tumultuous feelings of the passing of time into minimalist meditations. It was just a start, though–a prologue, a development of the kind of language and ideas she wanted to express. With I’ll be here, she digs deeper and writes music that feels more sprawling, further solidifying her singular voice.

Wieland’s musical composition process is similar to journaling, lending itself to the music’s honesty. When she writes, she makes room for all the ideas she has; in these sessions, there are no wrong ideas, and she allows the music to be attuned to the experiences she’s having at the time. With I’ll be here, Wieland zeroes in on themes of anxiety, loneliness, navigating human connection, and having to grow up from a young age, ultimately coming to a place of acceptance. And though it began as a journal written in solitude, her collaborators shape the music with her.

Working with friends, in fact, was a crucial part of bringing the record to life. “Everything that was supposed to happen came together so easily because of the people involved,” Wieland said. I’ll be here was co-produced and recorded with Wieland’s longtime collaborator Mike Tierney, a four time Grammy-nominated engineer who has worked with artists across the contemporary classical and experimental scene like minimalist pioneer Steve Reich, LA’s preeminent classical ensemble Wild Up, and various bands on Bang on a Can’s Cantaloupe Music label. Percussionist and composer Adam Holmes and violinist Adrianne Munden-Dixon are two other longtime collaborators who are frequent fixtures of her live show. Holmes plays synths, drums, and banjo; in live settings, his kit is loaded with elements of the songs that are then triggered by MIDI, making the music an interactive, evolving experience. The album’s gentle, filamented edges are colored by Munden-Dixon, whose poignant string melodies elevate Wieland’s introspective compositions, as well as cellist Helen Newby, saxophonists Julian Velasco and Jordan Lulloff, and bassist Pat Swoboda.

Wieland takes an economic approach to writing music, building the swirling and immersive landscapes of Vines through short melodies, lyrics, and phrases. As each element layers and interweaves, they grow into sprawling webs of ghostly sound. Prior to Vines, Wieland composed pieces for other people to play using a minimalist’s sensibility, writing slowly unfolding melodies for instruments like violin and saxophone. In recent years, she sharpened her solo style across a variety of singles and covers which have garnered significant attention on social media for their emotional resonance (“being loved isn't the same as being understood” in particular went massively viral on TikTok in 2024). Birthday Party, her debut as Vines, brought her writing to a much more intimate space, centering on her vocoded voice cloaked in feathery reverb. A series of recent singles, meanwhile, including “I am my home,” showcase the way that Wieland’s music is born from the story of her innermost feelings, extending far beyond just the self.

Though Wieland’s music often deals with dark themes, it unfolds with tender melancholy, the kind that feels like a warm embrace. On “Evicted,” Wieland wonders if she’s getting sick or moving on, if she’s lost or found. Her vocals expand with each lyrical repetition, as the instrumentals slowly encircle and the music’s rhythm grows and bursts into a heart-wrenching, yet radiant wave reminiscent of post-rock bands like Explosions in the Sky. “Tired” follows a similar trajectory, building from a looping, melancholy rhythm and floating lyrics into a solemn resignation. Elsewhere, Wieland takes a more ruminative approach: “Omw” begins with twinkling piano and melancholy strings that gradually transform into an undulating mass. It is a song born out of the warm feeling of reminiscence, the slight return of hope that comes with nostalgia.

With any searching journey, there is also a point of understanding. The title track closes the album with the freedom of acceptance. A marching drum beats steadily beneath Wieland’s open vocals, moving forward, ever onward as it flies into the ether. In Wieland’s delicately textured music, there is room to come into yourself, and learn to love whomever that is. I’ll be here is a special space that can be all your own, one in which to feel what needs to be felt. “This is music for your story,” Wieland said. “I want you to use it how you need it.”

3XL boss and scene hyper-connector Special Guest DJ (aka uon, shy, Caveman LSD) lands on their own label with a debut album of hazed ambient noise and aquatic club anarchitextures, with a patented, heady style bent into new shapes.

For nigh on a decade, Berlin-based American producer, label boss, promoter and DJ Shy has operated at the centre of a scene that's still not fully defined. Their mythical DJ sets, where you're likely to hear precision-tweaked dubstep, dreampop, decelerated rap and dubwise ambient blended into vapour; gives some sense of the vibes at play, and a comb thru their spiderweb of a catalog - as Caveman LSD or uon, as part of Ghostride the Drift, Hoodie, crimeboys, virtualdemonlaxative and Cypher, or as the figurehead of 3XL, Experiences Ltd, xpq? and bblisss labels - further blurs that gist.

They've been caught in the crossfire of Big Ambient, sure, but there's always been something scrappier, sexier and more present going on under the hood. Shy and his network of associates - Huerco, Ulla, Perila, Ben Bondy, Naemi/Exael, Ponteac Streator and Arad Acid, among others - have asserted the interrelatedness of their discrete approaches. So-called "ambient" music doesn't exist in a vacuum, it un-focuses elements that undergird so many more corporeal sounds, and for Shy, their music reflects the druggy, DIY, genre-agnostic ethos of a trans-Atlantic neo-punk underground that exists in some liminal zone between the club, the bedsit and the basement.

Concerned with themes of “anger, sensuality, and dreaming”, the 40 minute roil of ‘Our Fantasy Complex’ frames Special Guest DJ at their most unapologetically oblique and illusive, expanding and contracting between whorls of shoegazing dynamics and extended portions of quasi-speed D&B x dub tech smeared on the mind’s-eye, with a vivid sense of bruised lushness that’s perfused all shy’s work thus far.

Joined by kindred collaborators Ben Bondy, Arad Acid and mu tate, and suspended in agitated bliss by Rashad Becker’s lucid mastering, the results feel out some of 2025’s most considered and distinctive within an amorphous zone that’s become a world unto itself. Ambient music’s fluffier signifiers are swapped out for a sort of sublime tension that, like the sound’s original ‘90s explosion, can be heard to reflect states of altered consciousness - both individual and collective.

Shy's layered, undulating productions are more like the chewed remnants of a thousand mixtapes cooked into a stream-of-consciousness hex. Save for the glistening, zoomed-out parting piece ‘Dream’, it all mostly avoids pretty melodies in favour of a spatio-textural sensuality that wraps us up, sometimes uncomfortably intimately, in shy’s thoughts. That oneiric closer is one of three gritty palate cleansers that swirl around its peaks, where elements of Reese-bass are suspended, writhing below looming atmospheric pressure in ‘How Long Can I Burn?’, emerging charred and flecked with rattled percussion on ‘Yoro (pt I & II)’, as though K-holing thru a blazing summer’s day.

In step with Perila’s notably darker turn of events on her ‘Omnis Festinatio Ex parts Diaboli Est’, album, or the unexpected ferocity of recent Space Afrika live shows, it’s not hard to hear a darkside gravitational pull on this one, where ambient music is no longer just a balm for troubled souls, but also suggestive of humanity’s most frightful odours.

REPRESS

New Delhi-based Peter Cat Recording Co. will release their debut album, ‘Bismillah’ on June 14, 2019 via French independent label Panache Records. Debut UK live shows are soon also to be announced by the band.


Peter Cat Recording Co. could almost have a question mark on the end of its name. Not least as founder & frontman Suryakant Sawhney refuses to explain where that name really comes from or what it means (perhaps a reference to the Tokyo jazz club owned by Haruki Murakami), but also since the very existence of the band itself raises a raft of questions. When was the last time we fell for an indie rock band for the right reasons? Not because the band in question nostalgically imitate a perceived ‘golden age’ but because they innately embody the fundamentals of such music: fantasy, sincerity and the freedom to make music without rules or career aspi- rations. And when was the last time this kind of band sounded like Sinatra, Barry White, the sweetest doo-wop, humid fanfares and a psychedelic wedding band, all at once? And all of this coming from India?
In truth, the story of Peter Cat Recording Co. was written within the triangle of San Francisco, Delhi and Paris.
In the first of these cities, Sawhney (a native of Delhi) pitched up to study film-making. More distracted by the city’s peaking live scene of the early noughties, this is where he started to make music and to sketch out an idea for the band.“
The people I lived with supported my idea of writing music, they introduced me to great mu-
sic. There used to be a great garage scene in San Francisco, like The Oh Sees also Ty Seagall, Mikal Conin, all those bands. This is a world I had never seen in my entire life. A big inspiration from San Francisco was that you could record yourself. You don’t need to be in a studio and spend a lot of money to make an album. You can do it”.


At the end of the 2000s, Suryakant returned home to New Delhi, and started his band for real, more or less the same band that plays today. “I wasn’t so concerned about will we be performing, will we be the greatest band, will we be trendy. I just wanted to make something that was consequential and important for us, I think. Something which would last, something people could listen to and be like « this is life changing ». It was for the sake of beauty”.


For the first few years and in India alone, this is exactly what Peter Cat Recording Co. did, in total indifference to the rest of the world. This was until young Parisian label Panache stumbled across the band online via Vice’s THUMP subsidiary, stupefied by the band’s cosmic video for seven-minutes-and-counting track, ‘Love De- mons’. And so in spring of 2018, ‘Portrait Of A Time: 2010-2016’ was released on Panache - making the first international release from Peter Cat Recording Co., bizarrely enough, an anthology of re-mastered, hidden gems from the band’s ramshackle back catalogue, previously recorded in Suryakant’s own living room. With Peter Cat’s off-kilter charm hitherto unheard of beyond the fringes of India, the release provided a gateway op-
Whilst the title track found its way onto Tracks Of The Year lists at the Guardian & NME, it was tricky for new PCRC enthusiasts to get a firm grip on the startling push/pull between the immediate, uncanny music this release gathered, and the cultural backdrop of New Delhi at which it was so startlingly at odds.


Opportunity for a wider fanbase to fall in love with their cloud-like, drunken songs for the first time.
If discovering your favourite new band via a ‘Best Of’ feels a curious premise, then ‘Bismillah’ does more than hint towards the promise of Peter Cat Recording Co’s future. Blending gypsy jazz, psychedelic cabaret, space disco, bossa supernova, Bollywood and uneasy listening with kaleidoscopic ease, in many senses, the band’s knack hasn’t altered. Always different, paradoxical, unpredictable yet somehow familiar. The new album opens to the strains of bird chatter, the whisper of a city’s soundscape and the first few notes from an instrument which seem to be calling us to the departure lounge, a fore-shadow of the flight ‘Bismillah’ launches its listener
on. Suryakant sings with the detached, rueful elegance of Sinatra marooned on a desert island, whilst his band create small space-time capsules which navigate their way through genres and eras – including the future – and between nostalgia and eccentricity.


Peter Cat recently trailed ‘Bismillah’ with the release of ‘Floated By’, an appositely titled musing on failure & missed opportunities, punctuated by the fulsome brass section which weaves through so much of the album.


The languid, blue quality to the track is offset by the attendant music video, created with footage shot, implau- sibly enough, at Suryakant’s own marriage ceremony (needless to say, the wedding band hired for the day was of course, Peter Cat Recording Co.) Sawhney dryly notes; “Hopefully it’s not a many-a-times-in-a-lifetime event. You can’t fake that set, those people actually having a good time, being really emotional and intense.” ‘Bismillah’’s colour-drenched album cover also captures Suryakant’s father-in-law making his wedding toast on that same day - a nod back towards the cover of ‘Portrait Of A Time’, itself a black & white image taken at the wedding ceremony of Suryakant’s own father.


A stumbling but gracious collection of songs rooted in a kind of drunken soul music, the melancholy nature of some of the songs on ‘Bismillah’ renders them almost liquid, before they develop into more dance-like shapes. Suryakant’s rangy voice swoops from the falsetto glide of ‘I’m This’ to the beat-up baritone blown along by the warm breeze of ‘Soulless Friends’. The elliptical structure of album opener ‘Where The Money Flows’ also al-
lows for the use of brief bursts of autotune effect on his vocal without feeling incongruous, whilst the desultory lyrics of ‘Heera’ (a Hindi word for diamond) - sharing something with the Morricone school of grand storytelling - have an emotional weight that would impress even coming from a native English speaker. Perhaps the most gleefully unpredictable moment on ‘Bismillah’ comes with the illusory, vocal loops on the intro to ‘Memory Box’, errupting into 8 exhilarating minutes worth of unbridled, string-backed disco joy. A cat might have nine lives, but on ‘Bismillah’ and beyond, Peter Cat Recording Co. are hinting towards an un- knowable multitude of dimensions. Throw them all together, and it equates less to a listening experience and more to an out-of-body experience.


Peter Cat Recording Co. are: Suryakant Sawhney (vocals/guitar/organ), Dhruv Bhola (bass), Kartik S Pillai (organ/guitar/electronics), Rohit Gupta (horns), Karan Singh (drums)

James Holvay is a key figure in the world of Chicago soul, whose songwriting helped shape the sound of the '60s alongside icons like Curtis Mayfield. Known for penning four Top Ten hits for The Buckinghams — including the million-selling US #1 "Kind of a Drag" — Holvay's influence runs deep. His career began on the road with The Chicagoans before co-founding The MOB, one of the first horn-driven rock and soul bands. With releases on legendary labels like Chess, Constellation, and Onederful, Holvay's work captured the heart of the Windy City's rich musical scene. His music has been championed on influential stations like WLS Chicago and earned him spots in the South Dakota Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame and the Lyons Township High School Hall of Fame.

Now, LRK Records proudly presents two new tracks, "Love That Lady" and "Don't Take Your Love", on a limited-edition 45. Drawing from his Chicago soul roots and a Curtis Mayfield-inspired sound, these songs bring that timeless, heartfelt groove to modern listeners. With the growing appetite for vintage soul, this release is essential for collectors, DJs, and fans of classic soul music.

ENG Mamalarky thrive in the in-between, a tri-coastal outfit straddling Atlanta, Austin, and Los Angeles, crafting a sound that feels both meticulously constructed and effortlessly unspooled. Their brand of indie rock is delightfully askew-swirling psych flourishes meet wiry guitar tangents, all anchored by tender, off-kilter hooks that burrow deep. It"s music that invites you into its strange little universe, full of inside jokes and late-night musings turned into melodic gold. Their sophomore effort, Hex Key - marking their Epitaph Records debut-lands in April, with plenty of mileage ahead as they road-test new material. A spring tour includes a run with Hinds and a stop at Treefort Music Fest, where their shape-shifting sonics will no doubt translate into hypnotic, full-bodied chaos. Formed in Austin in 2016, Mamalarky"s lineup has since scattered across time zones, but their chemistry remains unmistakable. Guitarist Livvy Bennett (formerly of Cherry Glazerr), keyboardist Michael Hunter (White Denim), drummer Dylan Hill, and bassist Noor Khan (Faye Webster"s touring bassist) operate like a band that"s spent years finishing each other"s musical sentences. Their songwriting thrives on kinetic interplay-nimble and restless, yet always landing in some deeply satisfying pocket. While indie-pop might be the easiest tag to slap on them, Mamalarky dodge the genre"s more predictable trappings. Instead of settling into breezy melancholy, they embrace complexity-knotty time signatures, rubbery basslines, and melodies that feel like they"re winking at you. It"s heady but never pretentious, the kind of music that rewards repeat listens, each spin revealing a new hidden corner.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

In the midst of recording his 12th album 'Why The Worry', wavering in his resolve to finish what he'd started, Seth Walker came to the realization: "This does not define me; this is not who I am forever; this is just a moment" . "Distance colors compositions over the years and each album is left as merely a reflection of its own period in time." The new album finds Walker reunited with old friends and familiar names. Once again Jano Rix steps behind the boards, co-producing the album with Seth and engineer Brook Sutton. In the producer's fifth outing he's become an invaluable sounding board, the kind that knows what's missing and, just as importantly, what needs to be taken away. Oliver Wood (The Wood Brothers) lends a pen to the title track and Seth's classically trained father Scott adds strings to "I'm Getting Ready," a song penned by Walker's contemporary Michael Kiwanuka. Mostly, though, the record was shepherded into shape by Walker's trio, rounded out by longtime confidants Rhees Williams (Guitar, Piano) and Mark Raudabaugh (Drums). The three let the studio guide them, entering without agenda, set straight by the title's mantra to stop worrying where they'd end up.

Chris Ryan Williams (trumpet & electronics) and Lester St. Louis (cello & electronics) work together as HxH (H by H). Their skills have seen them move smoothly across various situations, constantly carving out new terrain and working in new configurations of musicians at a rapid pace. While worth reading, their biographies capture only a part of their complex rhizome.

HxH started about three years ago. The project is a direct response to all their activity with others and more importantly all their future leaning sonic desires. Their debut album STARK PHENOMENA is both their first studio recording and their first physical release. The album is appropriately set to be released by KMRU on his growing label OFNOT. It’s an ideal introduction to their sound world and their approach.

HxH describe their music as “electroacoustic,” but until recently the presence of Black musicians in this field has been greatly overlooked and largely ignored, making this phrase only partially appropriate. What HxH do really is to always be unpredictable. Every gig is a new soundscape. Sometimes you might hear echoes of Autechre or Robert Hood but then the sound-field will open up into a new terrain all their own. Chris and Lester bring together techniques from across the sound spectrum of electronic music and also draw on their deep backgrounds in Jazz, Improvisation, Classical and Noise scenes to create a sound that is true to them. After all, these two have worked with the likes of Bennie Maupin and the music of Black Fluxus artist Ben Patterson. Their rhizome is deep.

One of the ways that their unique approach manifests is in their merging of both acoustic instruments and electronic instruments in real time. This is something few have managed to do – but their spontaneous leanings work in both complex and accessible ways because of their deep understanding of landscape crafting. You can hear this clearly on the track “Pyrex Vision.” Their approach makes it tempting to compare their music to Sun Ra jamming with Laurel Halo – a comparison that would be only partly accurate.

Chris and Lester note that the sounds on STARK PHENOMENA are “imbued with such hopeful, gracious care; one that is far flung from obsessive carefulness or fuck the world carelessness, but more a caring embrace without the fuzziness of nostalgia.”

They note that when they began working together, they would “always come back to speaking on our concepts of an architecture of the expanse,” noting that their live sets often take on the joyfully noisy task of “dreaming big.” For HxH it was essential that STARK PHENOMENA have a quality that is “almost sculptural.” They consider the album “an object to be viewed from all sides.” This kind of thinking has resulted in them directly engaging with numerous sculptors and artists including Torkwase Dyson. Shape wise HxH’s sound fields work in a parallel to Dyson’s black architectural works.

They also note that the opening cut “BEACH” (the opening and longest track from the album) was “written weeks after our first gig in a studio session donated to us by our dear friend jaimie branch.” And that Pyrex Vision “was continually being edited months after sending our ‘final mixes’ to KMRU.” Their sound sources and samples come from studio sessions, live gigs, durational installations, 3am improvised downloads and more.

KMRU notes: "I think there is an in-between layer on this record. I was first caught by the Pyrex Vision track which organically flows between monologue, subtle field recording, and instrumentation. It's such a beautiful track, evoking deep emotion through simplicity. STARK PHENOMENA effortlessly glides in between imaginative mosaics of sounds — free yet complex — unlocking memories within its layers."

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Oxblood Vinyl

If you’ve followed the global shenanigans of heavier music over the past decades, you know the name Marko Hietala.
And if you don’t, I strongly suggest you go back down the dark rabbit hole and do your homework again. There is no doubt about it: Marko Hietala has been synonymous with quality for more than four decades. Hietala has not only shaped, but also defined the sound of harder rock, as a founding member of the heavy metal band Tarot, as an essential member of the supergroup Sinergy (next to extreme talents such as Alexi Laiho) or as one of the key figures of world’s biggest symphonic metal band Nightwish. Needless to say, his thunderous bass lines and rich vocals have been echoed in the world’s most famous venues, such as Wembley Arena and legendary festivals like Rock in Rio.
However, despite all the achievements, new conquests are coming at a steady pace... Just recently, Marko Hietala has appeared in a starring role in the TV series Vain elämää, which has gathered millions of viewers in Finland.
When it comes to an endlessly talented artist with a strong musical flame in his heart, an eponymous album is always just a matter of time. In the case of Marko Hietala, it took a while, but better late than never: his long-awaited first solo debut, Mustan sydämen rovio, finally arrived to grace the spring of 2019 (later reissued in English as Pyre of the Black Heart) Guess what? Marko Hietala’s musical and lyrical tide has not dried up and the well-received debut is getting the company it deserves. To be released in February 2025, “Roses from the Deep” follows the adventurous path of its predecessor, but perhaps with even greater ambition.
“Sometime in 2017-18, Nightwish took a break – first for about 20 years – and I decided to spend my time working on my first solo album”, I’ve come up with all kinds of ideas over the years, and it was time to get them out of my system. When I set my sight on the album, I didn’t limit myself in any way. If the idea felt good, it was good...” Hietala recalls.

While 1995's Washing Machine LP moniker was a thinly-veiled jab at the corporate aesthetic ("no, you cannot turn Sonic Youth into a household appliance brand", the band even considered changing its name to Washing Machine but settled on the album title instead), their major label relationship was indeed a curious buzzpoint of talk on the street after their intake to DGC in 1990. It wouldn't be fair to say that this state of existence propelled the band to reinforce its independent mindset by releasing a series of opaque-looking, French-language-dipping, highbrow-looking releases on their own that focused on the more abstract improv/compositional side of the band; in all truths they had been heavily steeped in self-releasing spillover material prior to that. But after a pressure pot of the early 90's indoctrination into a new operational mode for the band and its visibility, and the forces around it attempting to shape their direction, it seemed like a good time to create a strong show of radical concept.

The Anagrama EP became the first in a series of the SYR label's Perspective Musicales releases seemingly cementing Sonic Youth's connectivity to an increasing public awareness in experimental composers of the 20th century (French or otherwise). The irony was that many of those original avant composers being rediscovered by the indie audience (Partch, Neuhaus, Reich, Messaien) often found themselves on major labels anyway! So, perhaps this reverse approach was a necessary concept/comment given the music biz climate of the 90's. Regardless of how apples and oranges fell in Xenakian probability/theory, it was clear that both Sonic Youth's stature in progressive music, aided by now unlimited taperoll time thanks to a home base studio downtown established after their Lollapalooza stint, gave the band plenty of trailblazing time for their self examination of untraveled avenues.

"Anagrama" unfolds into nine minutes of delicate textures, starting with thick drone segueing into moments reminiscent of the post-crescendo flutter/comedown of "Marquee Moon's" trail-out; Thurston, Lee and Kim's guitars all circling round each other taking delicate pokes and stabs before drifting into some post-rock rhythmic moves tapered with delicate percussive guidance from Steve Shelley. "Improvisation Ajoutée" reaches further out into dissolve with whirring oscillations, guitars hissing and clanking radiator-style in a short blast format that continues into "Tremens" and a spooked-out landscape of gelatinous notes snaking up slowly. The sparseness of attack is colorful, textures emit and linger, silent spots shine, all flanked by tasteful drumming that provides the thread to all the abstraction. Shelley's approach here is interestingly sideways to any kind of usual rock action, it's tempered, mutant and metronomic simultaneously. The finale track "Mieux: De Corrosion" is a real pedal-palatte showcase. Here, Plutonian guitar wash flanges upwards to buoy a myriad of colorful eruptions of amp-spuzz, chopped up tone blasts and general confusion. Out of the blue, some metallic one-note choogle kicks in and threatens to explode into some Judas Priestly motion, before it all sputters into aural glass showers, clang, and finally a ferocious wave of more flange hiss that crashes down on a dime.

This initial foray into SY's Perspectives Musicales series continued onward with releases featuring other co-conspirators, peaking with the ambitious 2CD Goodbye 20th Century that finally connects the band into full-on interpretations of other composers' pieces (as well as displaying their own new ones). The whole series is not so much an outlet for another "side" of the band, but a run that went hand in hand building new approaches of songcraft onto their own, more overground direction which included Jim O'Rourke (who hopped on during SYR3), adding additional density to A Thousand Leaves and other LPs of his era. Fans of the '86 Spinhead Sessions as well as the recently-exhumed later jams of In/Out/In will take in the sounds of SYR1 with glee.

Unfettered by studio time limitations with their own home base of Echo Canyon, SYR 2 shows Sonic Youth chasing the shadows of predecessor SYR 1 and the series' distinct aesthetic: total exploration of freedom and further discovery. While the cover art evokes European contempo classical releases of yore, Sonic Youth distinctively reinvent their own personal output potential the way those kinds of records revolutionized a previously defined genre. Their ethos of utilizing the roots of the Ramones, Television, VU, Stooges, and No Wave to shape their first decade now find the band in later years bullet-pointing fascination in AMM, MEV, improvised music, free jazz and other outer-limit/organic refractions of traditional rock. While Sonic Youth's spontaneous-creation moments had long been showcased in their recordings, Peel Sessions, and live, SYR 2 sums up the band's state in 1997: rolling lots of tape, fine-tuning ideas and presenting great moments of exciting new directions, allowing deep-listener type fans to gain better insight into their sound process. Add to that the alchemy of Jim O'Rourke's gradual entry into the core band which would soon be fully on display for SYR 3, and this series is an X-ray of evolution, dissection and reconstruction.

Red Vinyl. Since emerging in 2015, Sextile have been a party-provoking force on the LA underground, capable of kicking up a riot with the raw-edged squall of a synth or the sharp-elbowed jerk of a guitar. Sextile are now ready to rage with a serotonin-boosting new album, a new group dynamic, faster BPMs, and an even wilder new direction. Recorded in Yucca Valley, Push bounces and bops at the fringes of hardcore dance music, with the hallmarks of drum & bass, gabber and trance illuminating the record like glowsticks at a `90s Fantazia rave. "Contortion" introduces the album with shadowy vocals from Keehn and a `00s-ready twist of dirty electro bass, setting the tone for the dance-punk rave-up that unfolds across 11 attention-grabbing tracks. There's plenty of historic teen angst and biting social commentary written into the album's vivid tales and misadventures. Balancing storytelling with face- melting synths that turn the tune into an acid trance character study, "No Fun" is penned from the perspective of a teenager trying to flee their town. A punk spirit underscores the album. The clue's in the name with "Crassy Mel," which partly serves as a high-energy dedication to `70s anarcho-punk legends Crass . The track's headbang - ing heft, vocal yelping, and Prodigy -shaped breakbeats accentuate the album's overwhelming sense of fun. Plus, the dreamy ambient wash at the end of the song is the ultimate palate- cleanser. Push was inspired by the kind of pleasure-seeking music fans whose social calendar comprises both the punk show and the rave. Josh Wink, Iggy Pop, Goldie, and early XL Recordings have all been namechecked as influences on Push , and the dancefloor remains a constant pres - ence. Repping their place of origin, "New York" brings these musical touchstones off the page, guiding the album like an acid-soaked lodestar with its grinning nod to "Higher State of Consciousness" and a whirlygig of music-box synths. There are still nods and "hellos" to the caustic post-punk of Sextile's earlier work. Sextile haven't relinquished their punk credentials, they've just given them a smiley-faced revamp.

"Waxwork Records is honored to present the release of the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to George A. Romero’s horror classic, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Written, filmed, and released in 1968 by a rag tag group of Pittsburgh based misfits, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD is an American independent horror film that follows the story of seven people trapped in a rural farmhouse that is besieged by a large and growing group of living dead ghouls. The film is regarded as a cult classic by critics, film scholars, and fans and has garnered critical acclaim. The film has been selected by the Library Of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry and is deemed “culturally, historically, and aesthetically significant”.

Filmed and released on a shoestring budget, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD became a smashing success earning over 250 times its budget. The film is a first of its kind and ushered in a new way of writing, directing, and filming horror films. The overused script of romantic, fantastical tales of otherworldly monsters and creatures was completely flipped and tossed aside by visionary George A. Romero. As the film’s writer and director, Romero created a new, obvious threat, and one that is universally recognizable - Our very own neighbors. Due to an unseen force beyond man’s control, the recently deceased arise from the dead in seek of living human victims. These ghouls kill and feast upon the flesh of their victims, and the only way of stopping them is by destroying their brains.

From 2015 to 2018, Waxwork Records worked closely with the remaining members of the independent production company that made NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, Image Ten, to produce a definitive soundtrack album featuring all music from the film. Much of the film’s music was thought to be lost or destroyed but was located in its entirety and faithfully restored and re-mastered for vinyl. This special release of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD features the complete soundtrack, double LP “Black & White Hand Poured” colored vinyl, all new artwork by Robert Sammelin, a booklet featuring never before seen production photos, liner notes by Daniel Kraus (co-author of THE SHAPE OF WATER with Guillermo Del Toro), liner notes by Night Of The Living Dead’s dialogue recorder and sound engineer, Gary Streiner, and deluxe packaging."

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

"We could go so far as to say that it is the human condition to be grotesque, since the human animal is the one that does not fit in, the freak of nature who has no place in the natural order and is capable of re-combining nature's products into hideous new forms." So reckoned Mark Fisher in 'The Weird And The Eerie', which chronicled the means by which the uncanny can enter the everyday. Mwg Drwg, the second album from South Wales psychic seers Obey Cobra, is an album that dwells in exactly this kind of headspace, where the otherworldly meets the kitchen sink. Always a band who've sought out new dimensions to explore via their trademark warped post-punk, electronic and industrial influences, Obey Cobra have crafted surreal new shapes here. Taking influences as diverse as Diane Arbus, David Lynch and Sonic Youth, they balance out heaviosity and grace on the likes of the majestically discordant 'Ten Of Wands' Elsewhere, on the title track, the band sculpt a Jesus Lizard-esque rhythmic pulse, eerie vocal abstraction and the crepuscular downtempo atmosphere of Massive Attack's Mezzanine into a uniquely haunting dreamscape. Mwg Drwg is where the weird and eerie are amplified to intimidating proportions It's where grotesquely and beauty happily cohabit. It's an aural exorcism of William Friedkin proportions that demands your immediate attention.

"Waxwork Records is honored to present the release of the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack to George A. Romero’s horror classic, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD. Written, filmed, and released in 1968 by a rag tag group of Pittsburgh based misfits, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD is an American independent horror film that follows the story of seven people trapped in a rural farmhouse that is besieged by a large and growing group of living dead ghouls. The film is regarded as a cult classic by critics, film scholars, and fans and has garnered critical acclaim. The film has been selected by the Library Of Congress for preservation in the National Film Registry and is deemed “culturally, historically, and aesthetically significant”.

Filmed and released on a shoestring budget, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD became a smashing success earning over 250 times its budget. The film is a first of its kind and ushered in a new way of writing, directing, and filming horror films. The overused script of romantic, fantastical tales of otherworldly monsters and creatures was completely flipped and tossed aside by visionary George A. Romero. As the film’s writer and director, Romero created a new, obvious threat, and one that is universally recognizable - Our very own neighbors. Due to an unseen force beyond man’s control, the recently deceased arise from the dead in seek of living human victims. These ghouls kill and feast upon the flesh of their victims, and the only way of stopping them is by destroying their brains.

From 2015 to 2018, Waxwork Records worked closely with the remaining members of the independent production company that made NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD, Image Ten, to produce a definitive soundtrack album featuring all music from the film. Much of the film’s music was thought to be lost or destroyed but was located in its entirety and faithfully restored and re-mastered for vinyl. This special release of NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD features the complete soundtrack, double LP “Black & White Hand Poured” colored vinyl, all new artwork by Robert Sammelin, a booklet featuring never before seen production photos, liner notes by Daniel Kraus (co-author of THE SHAPE OF WATER with Guillermo Del Toro), liner notes by Night Of The Living Dead’s dialogue recorder and sound engineer, Gary Streiner, and deluxe packaging."

Readers of encyclopedic tomes are obviously familiar with exploding animals – there are numerous reports of torn-apart toads (even in Hamburg, Germany!), actual ants exploding altruistically – but humans that decide to jointly detonate, and with no harm done, that’s rare: Kobe’s own o'summer vacation are unique (and volatile) like that, and they’re back to light the fuse for the second time, presenting 13 more musical quarter sticks that have already blown up venues in Europe and Japan.

“Keep it lean, keep it mean,” they say, and that’s what this band loves to take to the extreme: breakneck concision and collective combustion meet freeform noise punk hazards on o'summer vacation's second (not quite) full-length – as the Kobe-based three-piece’s “Electronic Eye” is set to arrive on October 11, 2024. Following a bunch of trips to Berlin, Munich etc., the Japanese fire starters have found a new home with Alien Transistor, and it’s the perfect launch pad for their latest set of guitarless pyrotechnics. Going right for max q (maximum dynamic pressure), “Electronic Eye” is (unlike those Starships) actually supposed to explode right after lift-off ;)

Even though there have been some line-up changes since the group recorded its sophomore album, the energy caught by producer Shinji Masuko (DMBQ, Boredoms) is still unmatched: a very physical and hard-knocking barrage of mosh-inducing madness that leaves you speechless + inevitably twitching towards the pit. Mastering was done by Masaki Oshima aka Watchman (Melt-Banana).

Opening with sizzling hi-hats and heavy ripples of breathless bass, singer Ami presents a non-sequitur kind of lullaby over the math rock-style interlocutions of “宿痾 (Shuku - A)” – which at 6+ minutes makes up more than a quarter of the album. A shapeshifting frenzy of voice (Ami), unbridled, pedal-powered bassline insanity (Mikkki, formerly Mikiiiii), and hot-blooded drums (Manu, meanwhile replaced by Karry), the album features mosh-inducing blows (previously released “Luna,” “Anti Christ 大体 Super Star”), 30-sec mini noise punk anthems (“竦(shou)”, “Days Go By Fast”), and continues to surf at breakneck pace up and down scales (“@ The”), which often feels like catharsis served with a hammer (“Ultra”). Whereas some tracks are bigger more song-y than others (“Song#2,” that full-throttle “Poodle”), “Vs I” is on time like Tierra Whack (exactly 60 seconds of pick-grinding action), and “Rage” indeed feels like Zack is about to join the party – only to see Ami wipe the floor with pure onomatopoetic fire. Finally, “Aloooooone” and “Humming” (that opening lilt!) are sure going to be live favorites, shifting up and down via hardcore speeds and various break-downs.

Quite hotheaded and terminating things on a high note, o'summer vacation point out that the quick-fire lyrics of their “songs have no meaning. It’s called onomatopoeia in English. Ami, our vocalist, does not like to communicate her thoughts through her music.” Although she considers her contribution “a part of the instrumentation,” they still have strong messages and concerns (unrest, discontent, willingness to shake, wake up, enliven anyone near the audible bomb crater): “That doesn’t mean we don’t have a point of view, but we choose to express ourselves through sound rather than words. Generally, but not exclusively, we are anti-racism, anti-war, gender-free, angry at the companies we work for and their bosses, etc., which are very common sentiments held by so-called rock bands.”

It’s only three ingredients, just like sonic gunpowder: bass, drums, voice – but they tend to explode a few bars into each new track. In a perfect world, there’d be giant colorful clouds of dust gracing the sky over each venue they descend upon.

The monolithically heavy, uniquely mercurial UK quartet Sugar Horse are proud to announce their new album Grand Scheme Of Things, to be released 4th October via Pelagic Records. Darting wildly between dark/light, pain/bliss and sacred/profane, the band originating from Bristol offers a different perspective on Post Metal! On Grand Scheme Of Things, Sugar Horse comment: "This album was intended to be a sideways step. A move away from the kind of thing that is expected of us_ if anything is at all. What I mean by that, is the songs are more direct. They take a much shorter amount of time to "get to the point". We also wanted to make this one noticeably "less Metal". While we love being a bit boneheaded and confrontational, we definitely wanted to explore the more melodic, song-based side of the band's sound. Normally you'd see shortened song structures and more singing and think "Oh these guys are going for gold_.they wanna get on the radio and make millions of bloodstained pounds." Well_you're very much entitled to think that if you wish, but it felt like more of a songwriting challenge than anything else to be honest. We've done the whole drawn out, endless Space Rock thing a good few times now and it would've been easy to rest on those laurels. Do something we're comfortable with. Alas, that is not really the point of this band. We'd much prefer to make it difficult and take the long route."

The monolithically heavy, uniquely mercurial UK quartet Sugar Horse are proud to announce their new album Grand Scheme Of Things, to be released 4th October via Pelagic Records. Darting wildly between dark/light, pain/bliss and sacred/profane, the band originating from Bristol offers a different perspective on Post Metal! On Grand Scheme Of Things, Sugar Horse comment: "This album was intended to be a sideways step. A move away from the kind of thing that is expected of us_ if anything is at all. What I mean by that, is the songs are more direct. They take a much shorter amount of time to "get to the point". We also wanted to make this one noticeably "less Metal". While we love being a bit boneheaded and confrontational, we definitely wanted to explore the more melodic, song-based side of the band's sound. Normally you'd see shortened song structures and more singing and think "Oh these guys are going for gold_.they wanna get on the radio and make millions of bloodstained pounds." Well_you're very much entitled to think that if you wish, but it felt like more of a songwriting challenge than anything else to be honest. We've done the whole drawn out, endless Space Rock thing a good few times now and it would've been easy to rest on those laurels. Do something we're comfortable with. Alas, that is not really the point of this band. We'd much prefer to make it difficult and take the long route."

The 180g vinyl is available in two colors: Classic Black and a Limited Burgundy Edition, with the outer cover hand-colored and numbered (100 copies) by Moo Latte himself.

Mellomaniac, the seventh full-length album by Moo Latte, is different. These 28 compositions, written and recorded in 2021/22, were initially created for Moo's personal use, serving as a life soundtrack during many weeks and months spent away from home while touring with the band. Most of the tracks were recorded in hotel rooms and even backstage areas, fully embracing the lo-fi mindset and philsophy. Comparing to his previous works, this one holds a special significance and it's the most personal of them all.

What's Mellomaniac? The wordplay combines "melomania"—defined as an excessive and abnormal attraction to music—with the "mello" vibe that reflects both Moo Latte's personality and the nature of the music itself. The album leans toward a mellow sound, designed more for an intimate, individual listening experience where each spin of the record leads to new discoveries.

Why is this album different? Each of these pieces was created without any predetermined goal, which is why the tracklist is so eclectic—much like Moo Latte's palette of inspirations. These influences stretch back to when he was just four years old, singing in front of others for the first time or listening to his sister practice the violin. These early memories and instincts are blended with more deliberate musical choices, refined over two decades of music education. Each song is dedicated to a person, place, or situation that shaped him both as a musician and as an individual, reflecting the journey he has been on so far.

After six previous albums rooted in beat-making culture, this is the first one that is 95% drumless and free from sampling of any kind. Although the stories in these songs are told without words, Moo Latte incorporates his voice alongside a wide array of instruments, using it more expressively than ever before. The album's sonic quality is both raw and lush. The grit comes from the way it was recorded, using gear and microphones that, while not top-tier, were simply what was available. Everything was mixed in Moo Latte's bedroom and mastered on analog tape, resulting in a personal, intimate, and dynamic listening experience.

The 180g vinyl is available in two colors: Classic Black and a Limited Burgundy Edition, with the outer cover hand-colored and numbered (100 copies) by Moo Latte himself.

Mellomaniac, the seventh full-length album by Moo Latte, is different. These 28 compositions, written and recorded in 2021/22, were initially created for Moo's personal use, serving as a life soundtrack during many weeks and months spent away from home while touring with the band. Most of the tracks were recorded in hotel rooms and even backstage areas, fully embracing the lo-fi mindset and philsophy. Comparing to his previous works, this one holds a special significance and it's the most personal of them all.

What's Mellomaniac? The wordplay combines "melomania"—defined as an excessive and abnormal attraction to music—with the "mello" vibe that reflects both Moo Latte's personality and the nature of the music itself. The album leans toward a mellow sound, designed more for an intimate, individual listening experience where each spin of the record leads to new discoveries.

Why is this album different? Each of these pieces was created without any predetermined goal, which is why the tracklist is so eclectic—much like Moo Latte's palette of inspirations. These influences stretch back to when he was just four years old, singing in front of others for the first time or listening to his sister practice the violin. These early memories and instincts are blended with more deliberate musical choices, refined over two decades of music education. Each song is dedicated to a person, place, or situation that shaped him both as a musician and as an individual, reflecting the journey he has been on so far.

After six previous albums rooted in beat-making culture, this is the first one that is 95% drumless and free from sampling of any kind. Although the stories in these songs are told without words, Moo Latte incorporates his voice alongside a wide array of instruments, using it more expressively than ever before. The album's sonic quality is both raw and lush. The grit comes from the way it was recorded, using gear and microphones that, while not top-tier, were simply what was available. Everything was mixed in Moo Latte's bedroom and mastered on analog tape, resulting in a personal, intimate, and dynamic listening experience.

Rhetoric & Terror is Berlin-based Hemphill’s second album since leaving Liars back in 2016.

No stranger to reinventing his approach towards composition, Rhetoric & Terror feels like we are – perhaps for the first time – opening a doorway into Hemphill’s personal life, to his disparate sonic influences, his wide-ranging journeys through philosophy, and his own reflections on his role as an artist.

Like different thoughts and feelings emerging in a state of meditation, Hemphill invites you to pause on one ‘scene’ for a moment before moving onto the next. There’s space to get lost here – both emotionally and in the colour of the album’s wide-ranging textures.

With his wife Angelika Kaswalder on vocals throughout the album and multi-instrumentalist Morgan Henderson – a longtime friend of Hemphill’s since Henderson’s time in the post- hardcore band The Blood Brothers - adding woodwind, Nonpareils is no longer simply a solo project – and it’s apparent in this openness.

The name of the album – Rhetoric & Terror – describes this split that Hemphill is making from the conceptual nature of his first solo album (2018’s Scented Pictures), and the new direction that he – perhaps – hopes to continue taking. The title comes from a chapter in Giorgio Agamben’s book, “The Man Without Content”, where he describes the concepts of rhetoric and terror to describe two different types of writers: the rhetorician and the terrorist. The terrorist is a misologist who is only into the feeling; the rhetorician is committed to logic and form.

“With Rhetoric & Terror, I wanted to start with emotions and feeling. I was playing with my kids, listening to Cocteau Twins, I have a wonderful partner, and it seemed very contrary to any sort of growth to sequester myself from this life in order to get into character as a musician. Instead, I tried to remove the boundaries between my creative life and my. responsibilities and have it all be one fluid thing. All things at all times, and trust that this will guide my music rather than more intellectual concepts or limitations.”

Despite its catalysts being in philosophy and conceptual art, Hemphill has created an album that’s deeply “emotionally available”. It’s also helped him take a new stance on life that combines his life as a partner and parent in a kind of unity with his role as the artist. It’s plain to hear as a listener – Rhetoric & Terror, despite its intimidating name, is welcoming
and playful, even during its most intense moments.

Tip!

Polido has been fantasizing with the idea of free music throughout his artistic career. Free from restraints, logos, musical genres, but also from this modern obsession with narratives, plans, business plans, algorithms and bubble wrapped ideas for comfort of those of you that can’t breathe without everything making sense.
“Hearing Smoke” has nothing of that. It has been four years since Holuzam released the double album “A Casa e os Cães / Sabor a Terra” and for four years I have been daydreaming about what would come next. This is it, eleven new pieces about the future of the future of music. It is the result of years of study, research and sound consolidation. Sound as matter, mutating, transforming, absorbing all around, a shapeshifting entity connecting with the principles of freedom.

"Polido has been researching Portuguese contemporary composition, its very own sounds and ideas. Its origins, the web of repression, tension and censorship before the April 25th revolution in 1974; secondly, as an afterthought, freedom, equality and a unique sense of community and belonging screaming through the music. He absorbed those states of mind and made an album that listens to the current world and presents globalization as a mental trap.
If the music that inspired him somehow comes from a post-colonial world, “Hearing Smoke” questions how we can create something new in this permanent state of cultural colonization, where new trends or forms of music only thrive if they are accepted by the dominant cultures. The physical world has been transformed, but ideas like “world music” or “ghetto music” still show that dominance, the Strange can only be accepted if it incorporates the rules and codes of that dominant force. What I am saying is that it is hard for Portuguese musicians to present themselves as original. They will never have that credit unless the music relates to something that exists in another

realm. Never for their benefit, but for the power of association. I may sound arrogant here, but Polido is unique, original, one of a kind (all those words, all those redundant synonyms). I knew it four years ago when I got lost in the way “A Casa e os Cães” is assembled and how he makes something memorable out of the most commonplace conversations. “Hearing Smoke” continues the flow and puts us in the centre of these ever evolving masses of sound.
Somehow his music finds you, it starts speaking with you until it asks you to be a part of it. Polido’s beats and harmonics are combined in such a tender way that you mellow out while listening to these beats - thinking of the brilliant “Saque”. Even when he exposes you to something more harsh - “Canto D’Amorte” or the closing moments of the last track “Custa A Crer” - there’s still a cradle effect.
But what keeps me returning to this album is how it seems to transform in my ears. Not every time I listen to it, but while I am listening to it. The sound seems to move, embracing me and controlling my inner thoughts. These start to move along at the same pace, with the same feeling of cloudiness. Nothing new here, the thing is how it feels different from time to time, how the music, because of something that changes or moves, comes as a catharsis/revelation. It drives me nuts how the beats come and go in tracks like “Fogo Firme (Encomendação)” or “The More I Think, The Less I Can Speak“, leaving everything suspended and, simultaneously, relieved. When dramatic - ”Prova De Existência“ - it is sad af and gorgeously epic.

Trap, bass music, dubstep, ambient, hauntology and contemporary music flow side by side here, no pushing around, free of interpretation, and you are free to feel or listen to whatever you want in “Hearing Smoke”. That’s free music for you. Not a hard concept, something for you to enjoy, feel, reflect about. This is what the future will sound like."

André Santos // Holuzam

Coming out on September 6th on Sharptone Records, Sundiver is Boston Manor’s fifth album and one that represents a glimmering dawn for the Blackpool five-piece. Grown from a seedbed of optimism and sobriety, the LP celebrates new beginnings, second chances and rebirth. With two members recently stepping into fatherhood, hope is baked into every note. “Datura came out of these really dark few years over the hangover of the pandemic,” Henry reflects. “I'd been struggling a lot with drinking and not taking care of myself and bad mental health and stuff. We wanted Sundiver to be the next morning of the following day.” He explains that it feels good this time round to write through the lens of positivity. “The themes began to emerge, of rebirth, spring, dawn, sunshine and then other elements just started to fit into that.” It was during the making of Sundiver that Henry found out he was going to be a dad. This album is a significant one for the band. Originally coming out of the emo and pop punk scene, they’ve explored sonics and genres throughout their career, taken risks and achieved more than they could ever had dreamed of. They’ve grown up as Boston Manor – their lives and the world changing around them. They’re now taking stock, at a crossroads of the band they were and the band they could be.
While writing the album, they revisited the bands that shaped them in the late 90s and early 00s. “I was listening to the music I loved when I was a teenager and I just thought, why don't we make music like our favourite bands?”, guitarist Mike Cuniff remembers with a smile. “So we brought our interests to the table that way. Y2K kind of vibe. There are elements of Deftones, there are elements of Portishead in there, some Garbage, The Cardigans.” He laughs and adds NSYNC to the list of inspirations. From this cocktail of classics comes a dynamic and ambitious record, rich with depth, groove and more hooks than Peter Pan’s nightmares. Lyrics that foxtrot from parallel universes to personal growth, vivid dreamscapes to raw grief. Individually they’re single strokes full of meaning and magic. Together they’re a landscape.
Container (out Feb 15th) is the first single and it’s them at their best – impassioned and infectious. “This song is about the stagnancy of life creeping up on you & how that can bring about change.,” Henry explains, citing Ocean Song by US band Daughters as an inspiration.

The concept of the butterfly effect is present on Sundiver – how small actions can lead to big changes. This is no clearer than on their second single, Sliding Doors (out April 5th). It has the golden sound of late 90s Lollapalooza rock – think Smashing Pumpkins - rebooted with crisp 2024 production and a potent heaviness. In the lyrics Henry wonders, what if?, pondering on what could be. The idea that there are infinite versions of you whose lives splinter off in different directions at every decision you make. That there’s another you out there somewhere right now reading this sentence, and another me writing it. “So much is down to chance and circumstance,” Henry says. “You might catch that train and your life totally changes. Or you might miss it and things stay the way they are.”
Heat Me Up (out May 30th) is defiant and victorious, the audio equivalent of quitting your shit job and driving into the hot summer sun with a head full of dreams. “The lyrics are about love and gratitude,” Henry shares. “Another theme on the record is just appreciating what you have. It’s about not taking for granted the things that you've been afforded.”
There was some natural magic in the creation of Sundiver. They worked with their usual producer, Larry Hibbitt, and engineer, Alex O’Donovan, but instead of recording in London again they ended up in the green pastures of Welwyn Garden City. “Because Larry lives out in the countryside now, it was a way different environment and way different experience recording this time,” Mike remembers. “That contributed a lot to the brighter sound of the record.” The daily barbecues they had during their recording sessions imbued the process with harmony – five old friends spending quality time together and making quality music.
However, the album is by no means one-note. Birthing this new world they’ve created wasn’t without it’s pain, and that can be heard in the heavier moments on Sundiver. What Is Taken Will Never Be Lost is the most-stripped back on the album, a slow rock number seasoned with the downtempo Portishead influence. The heartfelt lyrics are Henry’s way of processing the loss of his grandfather, who died in a hospice last year(?). “It was just fucking horrible. It was always cold when I went there and they were always trying to get rid of me. The song title, What Was Taken Can Ever Be Lost, is the idea of his memory fading at the time because of dementia.” Henry goes onto explain that shoeboxes of photographs, diaries and a legacy is what he’s left behind. “He lived a really rich life and it has really impacted me and my father. His legacy is etched into the fabric of history in a very small way.” This song continues the connection between his grandfather and the band, as his painted face is emblazoned on the cover of the very first Boston Manor EP, Driftwood. As well as emotionally heavy themes, there’s heaviness in the music of Sundiver too. The closing song, Oil In My Blood, descends into an intense shoegaze outro with Debbie Gough from Heriot screaming hellfire. It’s in moments like this that the band show us aggression and fury can be as much a part of positive change as quiet introspection. The last lyrics of the song, “It resets and starts again,” leaves us in contemplation as the final chord rings out.
Touring the US, Europe and Japan over the years makes for an impressive CV, but if you know anything about Boston Manor you’ll know that they’re all about their hometown. Their choice to work with Blackpool-based photographer Nick Barkworth is testament to that. They’ve been working with him since the pandemic. “He captures Blackpool in a light that really reflects the weirdness and quirkiness of the town,” Henry says.” He's got a really good way of presenting that.” For the Sundiver cover, Nick photographed a 30ft tall abstract glass sculpture made by the local artist John Ditchfield. A striking and bewitching monolith that’s familiar to them but unusual to most people. “It has such kind of a gravity and power to it,” Henry describes the sculpture which stands in a field just outside of the seaside town. “It reminds me of either an explosion or a star or a supernova. To me it represents new life, power and radiance.” Boston Manor have got a knack for that - connecting the otherworldly and the everyday, the stars and the streets.
They’re a band known for using their music to make bigger statements about society. This time round they’re harnessing the uplifting power of music, and the communion it creates, as an antidote to the daily doom and isolation. “It seems like absolute chaos out there at the moment,” Henry says. “You’ve got Gaza and Israel, you've got Russia, you've got the fact that 40% of the world is going to have an election this year and increasingly most governments are leaning very far to the Right. The internet is dividing everybody, people are getting poorer and more desperate. It's really, really scary.” They considered trying to tackle the weight of it all in their music. “We could’ve written Welcome to the Neighbourhood on steroids, where it's just absolute darkness and misery”. He’s referring to their 2018 concept album that deals with class, inequality and the bleaker side of Blackpool. “But I think it's really important to write something that people can be immersed in and find some sort of solace in. Somewhere they can escape to from the modern day pressures and everything that’s going on. We’re all in this together.”

Circling guitar lines; the rise of fall of delicate bass; deep, breathy horns: sonic elements that exist in a state of slow, perpetual motion, like ideas sprouting from some kind of cognitive compost. With wonder and charm, G. S. Schray's new solo album, Whispered Something Good, evokes a realm of new growth while offering a fitting soundtrack for its exploration, as if tailor made for both the daydreamer and silly adventurer.


We start in the darkness of "Unlit Center" with elliptical phrases of jazz guitar. A conversation between double bass, synthesiser, and piano plays out on "In Tears Twice A Page" before we're ushered into the reflective zone of "Another Haunted Mirror." There is synth mist which trumpet cuts through decisively like a shaft of light from the sun: warm and clear. As the album proceeds, firmer rhythms coalesce. On "Prelude for Probably," clattering drums lock into a triumphant groove with horns. And then, to close, the instrumental art-pop of "Gone in Amber," probing not necessarily towards a final destination but another stop-off, one of distant birdsong and the faintest flicker of synth. Intimate and inviting, the act of listening to Whispered Something Good is akin to digging through an imagination. It's a place of subliminal melodies blooming into rhizomatic musical shapes, stray musings coalescing as bolts of inspiration — change fostering yet more change.

Black Truffle is thrilled to present the first vinyl reissue of David Rosenboom’s unique Future Travel, originally released on the short-lived Detroit label Street Records in 1981 and here presented in an expanded edition with an additional LP of wild, previously unheard live and studio material from the same period.

Future Travel emerged from the confluence of two important streams in Rosenboom’s work at this time. First, his exploration of ‘propositional music’, defined as ‘complete cognitive models of music’ that start from the radical question, ‘What is music?’ In this case, the music belongs to the universe of Rosenboom’s In the Beginning (1978-1981), in which proportional relationships determine the material available to the composer in all musical parameters (harmonic relationships, melodic shapes, rhythmic subdivisions, dynamics, and so on). Second, the work documents a key moment in Rosenboom’s long collaboration with synthesizer pioneer Don Buchla. Having played a role in developing concepts for some of the modules of the Buchla 300 Series Electric Music Box (an innovative analogue modular system controlled by micro-processors), Rosenboom went on to write the software for Buchla’s hybrid analogue-digital keyboard synthesiser, the Touché, the instrument heard most prominently here.

In a way that no purely analogue synthesizer could, the 300 Series and Touché allowed Rosenboom to work with the In the Beginning algorithms in real time, the synthesizers becoming ‘intelligent instruments’ that actively collaborate with the performer. Developing the open structures of the electronic pieces from In the Beginning, Future Travel explored the possibilities of simply ‘playing the system’, recording live at Francis Ford Coppola’s Zoetrope studio in San Francisco. Working from loose sketches, Rosenboom added acoustic instruments to the electronic sounds and, on some pieces, the processed voice of Jacqueline Humbert. Like Rosenboom’s collaboration with Humbert on the abstracted synth-chanson of Daytime Viewing, this music set out deliberately to challenge the ‘stratified and illusorily coagulated identities in the musical culture of the time,’ refusing distinctions between ‘serious’ and popular music. But where Daytime Viewing achieves this in part through genre references, Future Travel is bracingly sui generis, existing in a unique universe where radical formalisation à la Xenakis spontaneously gives rise to expressive jazz harmonies and old-timey folk melodies.

The crystalline quality of many of the Touché sounds gives Future Travel a sparkling, immediately enticing surface, its layers of shifting ostinato patterns pulsating outside conventional meter, rippling like waves on the surface of water. On opener ‘Station Oaxaca’, ping-ponging synth arpeggios and hand percussion accompany a sentimental violin melody, abruptly overtaken by layered keyboard runs, before the entry of tinkling marimba-like sounds reframe the scene as sci-fi Martin Denny exotica. ‘Time Arroyo’ begins as an austere study in staccato synth sounds in multiple overlapping tempi, reminiscent of Ligeti’s famous ‘clock’ rhythmic effects. Before long, it opens up into a melodic passage with the gentle heroism of classic Roedelius, which proves to be only a brief interlude before the layers of rhythmically distinct synthesiser patterns begin to build and accelerate into an increasingly dense cacophony. The wildest twists and turns are saved for the epic closer ‘Nova Wind’, where the arrangement focuses on Rosenboom’s virtuoso piano playing, perfectly embodying the project’s radical disregard of stylistic orthodoxies as he moves from hyperactive pointillistic flurries to a kind of space-age gospel.

At several points throughout the record, the distinctive voice of Jacqueline Humbert is heard reading passages from the text component of In the Beginning, a dialogue between The Double (an embodiment of humanity’s timeless desire to replicate itself in spiritual and technological copies) and two Spirit Characters. Fittingly, as all are conceived as embodiments of a future form of techno-human collective consciousness, distinctions between the three characters are not immediately evident in Humbert’s delivery, just as the music blurs the boundaries between intelligent computing and human spontaneity. Adorned with a striking retro-futurist cover (and here accompanied by extensive new liner notes and archival images), Future Travel is a time capsule of radical imaginings at the birth of our digital age, reminding us of utopian possibilities of which our own present seems so often to fall short.

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

180GM BLACK VINYL : 500 PRESSED WORLDWIDE.

Furthermore, Billy Mahonie now have their own label, Whistling Sam Projects, an almost sold-out London launch show at The Lexington on May 4th, and they are confirmed to play Portals Festival Saturday May 25th in East London. After nearly quarter of a century, Billy Mahonie are very much back.
Formed in the first wave of British post-rock alongside the likes of Mogwai in the late 90s, John Peel favourites Billy Mahonie are set to return with the first new music from their original line-up in some twenty-four years. Whilst their debut album ‘The Big Dig’, released in 1999 on Too Pure Records, is considered a classic of the post rock genre, Billy Mahonie always crafted their intricate music with memorable hooks and melodies and performed it with energy and gusto. Theirs was not an aimless, meandering sound, instead the songs and attitude were rooted in punk rock, and still are. Billy Mahonie put the rock into post-rock.
Set for release this coming May 24th via Whistling Sam Projects, ‘Field Of Heads’ sees the band returning with their classic original line-up of Gavin Baker (guitar), Howard Monk (drums), Hywell Dinsdale (bass and guitar) and Kevin Penney (bass and guitar). Whilst this line-up has been semi active for a few years, no new material came to fruition. After their last gig in 2017, however, the band decided it was time to get back into the studio, but with two members living abroad new challenges were faced, but ideas were shared, old ones were resurrected and finally in October of 2019, Billy Mahonie were back in the studio.
Recorded over two long weekends on either side of the Covid 19 lockdowns, the band tracked at The Church studios, owned by their former collaborator and front of house engineer Paul Epworth, with senior engineer Luke Pickering at the controls, allowing ‘Field Of Heads’ to quickly take shape.
New single ‘Kaiju’ gives the music world the first taste of ‘Field Of Heads’ and right from the off, it’s classic Billy Mahonie. Immediately bursting into life with the energy and melody that is so unique to their sound, Howard’s driving drums thrust the music ahead as the guitars and synths weave their way around them. Intricate and shifting, but never at the expense of a tune that sticks in your head.
“This one came from a chord progression myself and Gav first tried out jamming in 2010,” explains drummer Howard. “Needless to say, when Hywell and Kev got their hands on it, it became something no-one ever envisaged. Kev's great title is, of course, the Japanese name for the subgenre of monster-based science fiction. A frenetic riff opens the song and for a counter guitar part only two options remain, play in the minimal gaps or find an overarching theme. We chose both. Kaiju films influence the additional Synths, echoes of those early Japanese movie themes. Some people we have played this to in advance have suggested this track is one we should lead with, as it is kind of where we left off. We agree. It rocks pretty hard. And is a bit funky too. What’s not to like?!”
 
Furthermore, Billy Mahonie now have their own label, Whistling Sam Projects, set up for global distribution through SRD, an almost sold-out London launch show at The Lexington on May 4th, and they are confirmed to play Portals Festival Saturday May 25th in East London. After nearly quarter of a century, Billy Mahonie are very much back.

BANGER MAKE MY BODY SHAKE MAKE THE SPEAKERS SHAKE

It was two and a half years ago when a conversation took place between Sal Carmona and Dj Producer Jovonn Armstrong; talks of which planted a seed in Sal Carmona's ear, which years later would manifest what was once a dream into a reality. No stranger, nor a newcomer in the world of dance music, Sal's experience in the club scene goes way back to the days when his sisters, to whom he credits for helping shape the person he is today, took him to Dave Mancuso's The Loft. An experience that he recalls being nothing short of magical. It was a spiritual encounter that immediately took over thus steering him towards the direction of clubs such as The Paradise Garage, Bentley's, Underground, Red Parrot, Latin Quarters, Roseland, Studio 54, just to name a few. Years later, Sal decided to take on the role, of which he became quite successful at, of promoting his own events in New York City; throwing regular parties at venues such as Park Circle & USA roller skating rinks, Red Parrot, The Palladium, The Copacabana and many others, soon becoming one of the premier go to promoters in NYC. Taking a long and well-deserved hiatus from the club scene, in 2012 Sal decided to make his return back to what he loves. It was around this time that he began thinking what it would be like to venture into creating his very own record label. Envisioning his first release being a bona fide House Music Album, one that would include some of his favorite producers. Not one to let dreams drift into the ether, while recollecting on that conversation with Jovan way back, Sal set out to make that vision manifest into a reality and thus emerged this dope compilation titled Banger "Make My Body Shake" "Make the Speakers Shake"

A great idea which brings together an interesting mix that includes highly sought out and respected veteran producers in the scene, such as Timmy Regisford, Ron Trent, Dj Jovonn, and Joe Claussell. Alongside with up and coming DJ producers who are garnering their own adulation of fans, in the likes of Vick Lavender, Mark Francis, Conway Kasey, and DJ Punch. With valuable directional contributions from friend Joe Claussell, this, to say the least, has become far more than just a seriously dope compilation that consists of a unique coming together of serious dance music. More than the aforementioned, Sal Carmona has manifested a dream into a game changing music scripture that is one of a kind, especially in this day and age where it seems where things are thrown together hoping for something to stick. On the contrary, this is well planned and thought out dopeness at A higher level consisting of all new house music that hasn't been brought together like this in a very long time and probably not for a while afterwards.

180GM BLACK VINYL : 500 PRESSED WORLDWIDE.

Furthermore, Billy Mahonie now have their own label, Whistling Sam Projects, an almost sold-out London launch show at The Lexington on May 4th, and they are confirmed to play Portals Festival Saturday May 25th in East London. After nearly quarter of a century, Billy Mahonie are very much back.
Formed in the first wave of British post-rock alongside the likes of Mogwai in the late 90s, John Peel favourites Billy Mahonie are set to return with the first new music from their original line-up in some twenty-four years. Whilst their debut album ‘The Big Dig’, released in 1999 on Too Pure Records, is considered a classic of the post rock genre, Billy Mahonie always crafted their intricate music with memorable hooks and melodies and performed it with energy and gusto. Theirs was not an aimless, meandering sound, instead the songs and attitude were rooted in punk rock, and still are. Billy Mahonie put the rock into post-rock.
Set for release this coming May 24th via Whistling Sam Projects, ‘Field Of Heads’ sees the band returning with their classic original line-up of Gavin Baker (guitar), Howard Monk (drums), Hywell Dinsdale (bass and guitar) and Kevin Penney (bass and guitar). Whilst this line-up has been semi active for a few years, no new material came to fruition. After their last gig in 2017, however, the band decided it was time to get back into the studio, but with two members living abroad new challenges were faced, but ideas were shared, old ones were resurrected and finally in October of 2019, Billy Mahonie were back in the studio.
Recorded over two long weekends on either side of the Covid 19 lockdowns, the band tracked at The Church studios, owned by their former collaborator and front of house engineer Paul Epworth, with senior engineer Luke Pickering at the controls, allowing ‘Field Of Heads’ to quickly take shape.
New single ‘Kaiju’ gives the music world the first taste of ‘Field Of Heads’ and right from the off, it’s classic Billy Mahonie. Immediately bursting into life with the energy and melody that is so unique to their sound, Howard’s driving drums thrust the music ahead as the guitars and synths weave their way around them. Intricate and shifting, but never at the expense of a tune that sticks in your head.
“This one came from a chord progression myself and Gav first tried out jamming in 2010,” explains drummer Howard. “Needless to say, when Hywell and Kev got their hands on it, it became something no-one ever envisaged. Kev's great title is, of course, the Japanese name for the subgenre of monster-based science fiction. A frenetic riff opens the song and for a counter guitar part only two options remain, play in the minimal gaps or find an overarching theme. We chose both. Kaiju films influence the additional Synths, echoes of those early Japanese movie themes. Some people we have played this to in advance have suggested this track is one we should lead with, as it is kind of where we left off. We agree. It rocks pretty hard. And is a bit funky too. What’s not to like?!”
 
Furthermore, Billy Mahonie now have their own label, Whistling Sam Projects, set up for global distribution through SRD, an almost sold-out London launch show at The Lexington on May 4th, and they are confirmed to play Portals Festival Saturday May 25th in East London. After nearly quarter of a century, Billy Mahonie are very much back.

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.

London-based four-piece Adult Jazz announce their first full-length album in a decade, So Sorry So Slow, out 26 April 2024 via Spare Thought. Alongside the announcement comes lovesick new single ‘Suffer One’ featuring Owen Pallett, a cautious excavation of self and sexuality, clambering across a gorgeously shapeshifting, filmic five-minutes.

Containing some of the band’s most abrasive but gentle, beautiful and melismatic work to date, So Sorry So Slow has many defining characteristics: romance, panic, devotion and remorse, threaded together by an intentionally laser-focused love. It’s deeply personal, bruised and candid in its expressions of tenderness, and deeply pained in its concurrent reflections of ecological regret. Across its hour-long runtime, a delicate, frenetic energy and glacial heaviness coexist, the band pitting those paces against one another. In their richly experimental timbre, dancing strings and fluttering falsettos prang against a bed of brass drones like a wounded bird.

“We started writing in 2017 and began recording in 2018,” says vocalist Harry Burgess. “We genuinely thought it might be finished in 2018! But things kept developing and, having resolutely not struck while the iron was hot, there was no real external push to rush things after that, so we just kept letting things shift and unfold until it felt right. Listening back to my voice notes it’s nice to notice that there are fragments of ideas from the whole period 2017-2023 which have shaped the record.”

Recorded in bursts at studios across London and in the band members’ flats, at Konk, on the Isle of Wight and in Sussex, So Sorry is unambiguous in its evolution. Sonically, there are sparks of the arrhythmic brightness that afforded the band’s critically acclaimed debut album Gist Is its cult adoration, for fans of Arthur Russell and Meredith Monk, but with a blossoming, melancholic darkness often overhead. Piano sprees and luscious string sections appear like low-hanging stars on a night-time drive, whilst plunging vocal distortions and humming brass loops resurrect heavy limbs in a bad dream.

“I usually have objects as kind of totems for ideas,” explains Burgess. “The album initially started out to do with performance… the totem was a head mic, one of the subtle skin-tone ones, discreet on the forehead of a West End star. A number of the first songs in their original forms were almost musical theatre piano ballads. I think that was really a device to write about my life as the ‘main character’ (pre internet-speak reframing): regrets about romance, relationships - unsustainable relationships with the self and others.”

“However, once we started writing, the ideas about unsustainable personal relationships, loving unevenly and heartbreak conflated with a more expressly ecological regret. Like contending with big feelings of loss, endings, beauty, desolation, and with how much joy the earth contains in it. Feeling so much gratitude bound up in waves of sadness. Maybe witnessing a slow-motion goodbye to all that, or its last gasps. I love the earth and the life it supports so much. I love how ecosystems fit together - even the brutal stuff. It may be basic to say, but now is the time to be laser focused on that love. I was thinking about human centrality on earth, us as the ‘main character’, the way that is served by faith and romanticism, and the subsequent disingenuous understandings of our position in the ecosystem, as only stewards somehow, rather than subjects. The totems at this point: a herald’s horn, lorry inner tubes, archaeological tools. I guess from doom, industry, history respectively.”

“Now I would say the record is about gripping. Totems being: crampons, rope, drips, desalination equipment, accruing various survival tech. I think gripping sums up both of the threads. There’s the emotionally correct clinging to the earth that is the substrate of everything we value, or the delusional clinging to our imagined dominant position. But also the practical, technological aspects of creating a sustainable relationship, of remaining here. Then I think of romance again.”

So Sorry So Slow comes out 26th April 2024 on Spare Thought, mixed by Fabian Prynn at 4AD Studios and mastered by Alex Wharton at Abbey Road.

Adult Jazz is Harry Burgess, Tim Slater, Steven Wells and Tom Howe.

Holland, Dozier and Holland are arguably the greatest songwriters ever. More prolific than Lennon and McCartney, they shaped “the Sound of Young America” and propelled the Motown sound in the mid-1960s into a creative stratosphere unmatched by any other independent music label. Their trademark catchy teenage love songs were delivered energetically by previously unknown Detroit groups like The Supremes, the Four Tops, Martha & the Vandellas & Marvin Gaye. Although synonymous with Berry Gordy’s Motown, it was their departure from Motown after a stand-off strike in 1967 and a brutal legal battle that led them to run their own group of labels, Invictus, Hot Wax and Music Merchant. This compilation is a definitive look at this period in history, exploring how H-D-H, under a new guise ‘The Creative Corporation’, drove the next generation of soul music in a myriad of different ways, towards funk, underground disco and jazz. Featuring 55 tracks, this collection documents HDH’s creativity and growth over this seminal 8 year period. During this time the trio developed new artists to rival Motown’s success such as Chairman Of The Board, Freda Payne, Honey Cone, Glass House, Flaming Ember, 8th Day, Laura Lee & Eloise Laws. The collection is complete with a detailed depiction of this period in history by award winning author Stuart Cosgrove who wrote the Soul Trilogy, a series of books on soul music and social change - Detroit 67: the Year That Changed Soul, Memphis 68: The Tragedy of Southern Soul which won the Penderyn Prize, as Music Book of the Year in 2018, and Harlem 69: the Future of Soul. Stuart’s notes detail the relationship with Motown in the final days, the immediate fall out after the trio left Motown and the creation of the new labels Hot Wax, Invictus & Music Merchant

After 20 years of living on the road in different places, Six Organs of Admittance had returned home to Humboldt County - a far country, to some, but still part of the world through which creatures of all kinds are moving through and contributing to. And some of them are human. Alone together - forming connection and exchange out of thought and expression - no different from the people on the other side of the Redwood Curtain. It was there, where Six Organs had long ago emerged, in the name of everything cycling, of circles that spiral concentrically and remain unbroken, the new music was conceived. In moments, it was as if the future had somehow wrapped around 360 degrees; elsewhere, the systems and patterns inside the writing and recording only became evident later - like a recognition that cumulus and nimbus clouds which passed through the sky the day before contained familiar shapes. Informing the songs accordingly as he went, Ben picked up on modes both musical and lyrical, threading backward through the time of Six Organs of Admittance. Almost marinating in it as a way of life. Working on the music and the vocals, then spending some time with them while stepping away from them. Walking the dog and coming back to them Time is Glass is made of that kind of time. Alone time. Recorded in the visceral environs of home, Time is Glass is sharply focused, even as misty impressionist mountains float through the background. Sweet and spiny, "The Mission" sings its purpose, before turning abruptly to the orchestral rumble of "Hephaestus": rural industrial psychedelia, ecosystem goth, synths arcing to lift a helplessly earthbound community into the firmament above. Winding almost imperceptibly back into song with "Slip Away", the time of the record becomes clear, moves fluidly, relaxed but aware, from event to event. People and things coming around again. The intuit, passing through wormholes and time, sounding deep then dissolving into the universal. The acoustic sounds ringing, layered suddenly, then clear again. Explosions of a new kind of distortion. Ecstatic melodies. Communing. The space of a day. The space of a season. Time is Glass, and Six Organs of Admittance is here and will be here, again.

Recorded by award-winning mastering engineer Kevin Gray's record label, Anthony Wilson's Hackensack West is Cohearent Records' follow-up to Kirsten Edkins' Shapes & Sound album. Produced by Joe Harley and recorded all-analogue/all-tube at Gray's studio, Cohearent Recording, the AAA vinyl release is pressed on 180-gram vinyl at RTI and housed in a deluxe tip-on gatefold jacket.

From the liner notes:

The week before these sessions in the summer of 2023, I sat down each morning with the goal of composing one new song by day's end. I knew I'd soon be in the room with my dear friends Gerald Clayton, John Clayton, and Jeff Hamilton, three musicians whom I trust the most, and with whom I've played the most over the last couple of decades. I tried to imagine themes that would feel natural to us, the kinds of songs we could simply dive into without much thinking. When we headed to Kevin Gray's studio to record, I brought seven new songs along with me. Five are included on this album.

"Daido" is dedicated to Japanese photographer Daido Moriyama, who became known in the late 1960s for his grainy, sometimes blurry, high-contrast black and white images made throughout Japan. I love his pictures taken on the streets of various Tokyo neighbourhoods such as Shinjuku. His portrait of a menacing stray dong, from his series "A Hunter," is the kind of picture that, seen just once, is unforgettable. These days Daido is still out on the street making pictures, at the ripe young age of 85.

"Verdesse" has a sinuous, chorinho-like melody and rhythmic feel. The tune seems to weave and bob playfully in a space of brightness the way a grapevine seems to curl towards the sunlight. So I named it after a wine grape native to the pre-Alpine region of Isère, near Grenoble in eastern France, that makes a particularly delicious and drinkable white wine.

I wrote "Sunday," well...on Sunday. It unfolds slowly, like a good Sunday does when there's nothing to do, you can sleep in, you've got your person beside you, and you just relax into the day.

"The Lands" is dedicated to a family very dear to my heart: that of tenor saxophonist Harold Land. My mother met Harold when they were both teenagers growing up in San Diego, California. The two of them became lifelong friends, and a little later, Harold enjoyed a fruitful musical association and close friendship with my father, Gerald Wilson. Harold, his lovely wife Lydia, and their son Harold Jr. were extended family for us; they looked after me with love and care. Some of my first gigs ever as a young guitarist were with Harold's incredible band that included Oscar Brashear, Billy Higgins, Richard Reid, and Harold Land Jr.

I've loved Todd Rundgren's "Marlene" since I first heard it on his epic double-album Something/Anything. With its tender, well-contoured melody buoyed by a few special harmonic surprises, it almost seems like something from the pen of Burt Bacharach. It tells such a complete musical story. Rundgren's recorded version has a beautiful endlessly repeating tag. So we played the melody simply, and used the tag as a small staging area for a bit of improvising.

Hackensack West is our alias for engineer Kevin Gray's studio Cohearent Recording, a place inspired by Rudy Van Gelder's first studio in Hackensack, New Jersey. Located inside Van Gelder's parents' home, the musicians played in the living room! It was there, in 1954, that Thelonious Monk recorded his classic tune "Hackensack," a "contrafact" melody over the chord changes to the Gershwins' "Oh, Lady Be Good!" In contrafact-like fashion, my own bebop-spirited melody "Hackensack West" seems to nod toward the changes of a few recognizable standards, without corresponding to any particular one.

From the cold corners of the Canadian soil, Illect's Newselph returns with some fiery furnace baked heat in the form of a remix album. On If It Ain't Broke, Remix It, Newselph carries on tradition in the spirit of Hip Hop legends like Pete Rock, Erick Sermon and Buckwild in the sacred art of remixing and refixing. Like the boom baptists before him, Newselph's ear hears transmissions reserved for angels and dolphins. He takes tracks that in their original incarnations are perfectly fine, banging even, and gets all up in the inner workings of said slaps to create something entirely different. For his latest release, he mines his backyard and reworks ten tracks from his Illect labelmates. The lead single, Those Were The Days, features the UK's Kinetik and BREIS. Newselph turns breezy into bluesy, and the track morphs into a makeshift teleportation device to a simpler time when fat laces, arcade games and handwritten letters reigned supreme. The Flowers remix features Jurny Big and Brand Nubian's most recognisable voice, Sadat X. The two emcees come together to the world and the roles they play within it. Newselph's push-and-pull guitar groove would fit perfectly as the backdrop for a campfire convo filled with nostalgic stories and witty anecdotes. Things get deeper than Atlantis on Matters Of Man, where Newselph again links up with his man, Sareem Poems, and one-third of the Ugly Heroes crew, Chris Orrick. Serving up a healthy slice of adult contemporary musings, the two rhyme writers break down this thing called life with the kind of knowledge, wisdom and understanding that would make King Solomon chill. Like watery clay in the hands of Sam Wheat and Molly Jensen, Newselph scrapes and shapes a rubbery bassline, dreamy droplets of keys and pensive melodies into a reassuring ode of optimism. Other guest appearances on the album include Sivion, Sojourn, MidCentury Modern, Ozay Moore, Dre Murray, DJ Because and many more. Like the classic TV show The Wire, all the pieces matter, and the sum of parts come together seamlessly to form something more meaningful.








[h] 9. Matters of Man (Remix) [

Back again for the first time in a few years, note price increase. Unfettered by studio time limitations with their own home base of Echo Canyon, SYR 2 shows Sonic Youth chasing the shadows of predecessor SYR 1 and the series' distinct aesthetic: total exploration of freedom and further discovery. While the cover art evokes European contempo classical releases of yore, Sonic Youth distinctively reinvent their own personal output potential the way those kinds of records revolutionized a previously defined genre. Their ethos of utilizing the roots of the Ramones, Television, VU, Stooges, and No Wave to shape their first decade now find the band in later years bullet-pointing fascination in AMM, MEV, improvised music, free jazz and other outer-limit/organic refractions of traditional rock. While Sonic Youth's spontaneous-creation moments had long been showcased in their recordings, Peel Sessions, and live, SYR 2 sums up the band's state in 1997: rolling lots of tape, fine-tuning ideas and presenting great moments of exciting new directions, allowing deep-listener type fans to gain better insight into their sound process. Add to that the alchemy of Jim O'Rourke's gradual entry into the core band which would soon be fully on display for SYR 3, and this series is an X-ray of evolution, dissection and reconstruction