Buscar:no thing

妖精の通る道 (The Path Where Fairies Pass) is the debut vinyl release by Reimaki, the duo of Rei Yokoyama (Triggers Flowers, Stakaidan, Lapiz Trio, 新井薬師自警団, and Fujio, Chiko Hige and Rei), and Maki Miura (Tsubamegami, Les Rallizes Dénudés, Shizuka, Fushitsusha, Ohkami No Jikan and Katsurei). The duo has been an understated presence in Tokyo, playing occasional under-the-radar shows and self- releasing a few CD-Rs, but they’ve recently started to break cover, with a recent cassette on UFO Creations, released in support of a late 2024 tour of China. It’s also a welcome reappearance on the scene for both musicians; Miura’s musical history, in particular, is being reevaluated thanks to a recent string of welcome Shizuka reissues.

But the music Reimaki make together is a different thing entirely, much as it shares some psychological and aesthetic interests with both Miura’s and Nokoyama’s other projects. Their sound is split between two main interests – an extension of glacial, deoxygenating psychedelic improvisations, and a deep interest in medieval European music. They’ve also been known to cover compositions by English prog/improv musician Fred Frith. These various elements of the Reimaki aesthetic are all present through 妖精の通る道, from the fragility of the opening “Novel Amor” through to the smeared, hazy textures of the three extended pieces that comprise the album’s flipside.

There’s a beautiful sympathy in these performances, and a generous simplicity, too; you can sense that this music is informed by decades of finding just the right way to say the right thing in the clearest manner possible. Yokoyama and Miura never overstate things; make the statement, play the song, let it hang in the air for a while, and then move on to the next essential expression. The music is unburdened by self- consciousness. Their take on medieval music cuts to the core of melody and melancholy; their psych- improv side is blurred and drifting without ever lapsing into rote generic gestures.

There’s some shared space with other artists who suspend the timeless within the kaleidoscopic possibilities of the psychedelic – Kendra Smith & The Guild of Temporal Adventurers; Emmanuelle Parrenin; Rosina de Peira – and a tangled folksiness that might put listeners in mind of Jan Dukes De Grey, Comus, Current 93, and Tower Recordings. Accompanied by beautiful photography from street photographer Takehiko Nakafuji, who was also personally chosen by Mizutani to document Les Rallizes Dénudés, 妖精の通る道 is a most unique and necessary trip.

Through analog synthesizers and Eurorack modular systems, in “Axis,” Equinoxious establishes an axis between electro and minimal electronics, closely flirting with the harshness of industrial. The pieces unfold under a logic akin to the cybernetics of Norbert Wiener: feedback systems, flows of information, and voltage control intertwine with the experience of the one who operates them; the synthesizer ceases to be a mere tool and becomes an organism that reacts and communicates.

These tracks are inspired by speed, the absurdity of reality, the impossibility of things, imaginaries of dystopia, and protocols of romance, delivered with mechanical frankness and precision.

Recorded between 2023 and 2025, the pieces stand out for their FM synthesis basslines and incisive 808 derived percussion; subtractive synthesis, and 90s samplers dragging staccatos and energetic sequences.

Sometimes the title of an album tells you everything you need to know. Laurence Pike’s Possible Utopias for Jazz Quintet is like that: The music within represents a search for freedom, potentiality—liberatory strategies that transcend the ego and the solitary, atomized figure.

But in this case, the album title is also a red herring, because there is no jazz quintet here—just Pike, his drums, and his machines, not so much an ersatz ensemble as a purely notional one, a thought experiment equipped with drumsticks, circuitry, and the desire to go beyond hardwired limits.

And the results, strictly speaking, aren’t really jazz, though they incorporate the vocabulary of jazz, along with that of ambient, electronica, and post-rock. They are some other thing, cognizant of genre but never beholden to it. Again, we’re talking about a search for freedom here.

The Sydney-based musician has a long history of coloring outside the lines, not just in his solo recordings—including four albums for the Leaf label between 2018 and 2024—but also in the trio Pivot (later PVT); Szun Waves (alongside saxophonist Jack Wyllie and Border Community’s Luke Abbott); Triosk, which recorded an album with Jan Jelinek in 2003; and even post-punk titans Liars, whom he joined in late 2018.

Of his first album for Balmat, Pike says, “My loose concept was: What does music sound like when the expectations of late capitalism are removed from it? How might a jazz musician from an idealised culture of the future, or even another world, utilise musical language when the conventions of style and marketing are no longer a factor in music making?”

That inquiry, he says, connects to his “guiding principle: that the purpose of music is to access something bigger than the individual, and reveal a sense of possibility and freedom in the world to the listener. To create an understanding that the future can be something other than what we imagined or expect, even unconsciously.”

Heady ideas, but plug into his stream-of-metaconsciousness flow and you may start to intuit what motivates him. There is a deeply lyrical expression in these pieces—in the ruminative piano of opener “Guardians of Memory,” for example—but also a sense of exploded perspective, of ideas approached from more angles than any one mind could dream up. Of a collectivized consciousness, of mycelial networks branching across tone and rhythm and timbre, of ideas articulated in distributed fashion, nodal points dancing across drum heads.

Pike’s imaginary quintet is hardly without precedent; it’s a continuation of concepts floated across Jan Jelinek’s Loop-Finding-Jazz-Records, Burnt Friedman’s many guises, and much of the recombinant improv of the International Anthem roster, not to mention the far corners of ECM’s catalog in the late 1970s and 1980s, which Pike says have been integral to his development since he was a teenager. Possible Utopias for Jazz Quintet is a point in a continuum, a voice in a conversation, a question with no obvious answer: How can the search for otherness in music manifest something true about ourselves?

For RCR003, we looked to someone carrying the West Coast lineage forward with our first full solo EP from upcoming producer Adam Rose.

“Gravitation of the Past” honors the past while setting its sights on the future.

A quiet drag from somewhere behind, like the past has unfinished business.

A moment suspended Time Ahead & Standby caught between where you’ve been and where you’re headed. Mostly static, then a brief moment where everything clicks. Then the voice shows up.

Familiar enough to trust. Dangerous enough not to.

Out by the still waters of Atitlán, watching the surface hold everything and nothing at once, it becomes clear some things aren’t meant to be solved. Just seen.
You can look, just don’t linger.

What’s left is lighter funked out, a little crooked, still moving.

There is a particular kind of strangeness that arrives on long drives across Europe. Flat light, service stations and fields stretching endlessly past the window. It might look mundane at first glance, but becomes faintly surreal when the tiredness of touring blurs the edges of everything.

That feeling became the quiet engine behind Driving Through Belgium, the debut solo album from Anton Pearson, best known as one of the guitarists in respected post-punk outfit Squid. The title grew from a track that felt like the record’s centrepiece, which itself came from the recurring image of extensive periods on the road across the continent. It is a record shaped in the margins of touring, and finessed in the in-between hours.

Across six pieces, Pearson leans into atmosphere, texture and space. It is ambient in spirit, adjacent to contemporary classical in feeling, but composed less with notes in mind than with sound itself. The compositions rarely began with harmony or melody, with Pearson instead responding to his environment and sounds in real time, placing trust in his instinct.

Although initial inspiration came from the road, the album was recorded in a studio he shares in Brighton, and marks his first fully solo project made in that setting. It gave him access to not only new tools and techniques, but a hitherto un-experienced freedom. Much of the process began experimentally, feeding instruments into unfamiliar chains, pitching loops into unexpected registers and playing with previously unused synthesizers simply to see what they might reveal. Many of the sounds were created out of pure curiosity, wanting to understand a piece of equipment or technology, and then following wherever it led.

The album was built with this experimentation at its core, as Pearson would layer then extract, processing stacks of sound until things blur and confuse. Guitars dissolve into drones, a Pianet Clavinet dances against muddier textures whilst a Korg PS-1000 occasionally cuts through with its glittering top end. On ‘Driving Past the Muscular Cows in Belgium’, a flat, still drone is pushed through valve amps until it growls and tightens with tension, before receding again. Even the trumpet, which Pearson freely admits he is not technically proficient at, is embraced in its naivety, its squeaks left intact rather than corrected. The twin ‘Tintinnabulation’ pieces frame the record with looping, pitched bell like tones, accidental discoveries that became structural anchors. Meanwhile, ‘Teeth to Cut the Grass’ deliberately introduces abrasion, some of the harshest textures on the record, a refusal to become passive background music.


That embrace of imperfection is central. In contrast to the hyper-analytical precision of his band, Pearson was keen to honour first takes. If something felt good, it would stay. The end result is an album that favours looseness, instinct and the energy of creation itself. If Squid thrives on propulsion and tension, Anton Pearson finds his energy in suspension on Driving Through Belgium. It is curious rather than declarative, creating a space where experimentation feels playful again.

Very limited numbers, orders will need to be confirmed.

For his new album, Irreparable Parables, Andrew Wasylyk felt a strong desire to write a set of songs featuring an element hitherto rare in his work: the human voice. Equally strong was the conviction that he did not want to sing them himself.

The Scottish multi-instrumentalist and composer set about assembling a group of guest singers, sending out the songs to wherever they were in the world. The vocals were recorded remotely and then, like migrating birds, winged their way back to Scotland. The result is an album of great beauty which, perhaps preeminently in Wasylyk’s work, expresses the vulnerability and resilience of the human spirit.

Six singers appear on the record, represented by six songbirds illustrated on the sleeve by Clay Pipe Music’s Frances Castle. The cuckoo is a nod to Belle and Sebastian’s 2004 single ‘I’m A Cuckoo’, that band’s Stuart Murdoch being the first voice you hear on the new album. When the vocal for ‘Private Symphony #2’ arrived, says Wasylyk, “it was everything that I was looking for and more. But this is Stuart Murdoch. Of course he’s going to make something incredibly beautiful and thoughtful.”

The song lyrics were, for the most part, written by the singers. The music is Wasylyk’s creation. He navigates a sound world that lies somewhere beyond the borders of classical and jazz, ambient and abstract. It is difficult to describe, but easy to understand, which is to say to feel. That is the way Wasylyk’s work is experienced: as a feeling. It takes you back to childhood, perhaps, to feelings of comfort and safety, or to memories of walks at sunrise and sunset, or to the way a shadow falls on a particular field in a particular place at a particular time in your life. This is consoling music. That is why, though pretty, it is not merely pretty. These are songs to shore up the soul.

Wasylyk writes in a room, in his native Dundee, full of “half broken” instruments. He picks these up, plays a little, seeking an idea, a feeling, a door that lies ajar. The musical palette of Irreparable Parables includes brass and woodwind, a six-piece string section, guitar, bass, drums, vibraphone, Mellotron, Fender Rhodes, tape loops, synthesisers and percussion. The strings were arranged by the cellist Pete Harvey, a long-term collaborator.

Among the other guest vocalists are Gruff Rhys of the Super Furry Animals, Saya Ueno from Japan’s Tenniscoats and Peter Brewis from Field Music. Wasylyk himself takes the lead vocal on the title track, though a throat infection and touch of pitch-shifting have altered his singing in a way that even he, having fallen out of love with his own voice, finds acceptable.

The heart of the record can, arguably, be found in two tracks, ‘Love Is A Life That Lasts Forever’ and ‘Spectators In The Absence of God’, sung respectively by Molly Linen and Kathryn Joseph. The former, bright with trumpets, was inspired by the writing of Derek Jarman. “I was feeling deeply upset about the world and wanted to try and write some- thing that was obviously hopeful,” Wasylyk says.

‘Spectators …’ offers an emotional counterpoint. It is an “apocalyptic hymn” that seems to grapple with watching human suffering from afar, too distant to be at physical risk, but experiencing the psychological wounding, and feelings of helplessness, even complicity, that come with constant awareness of other people’s pain. “Kathryn’s a pal, I love her dearly, and she’s a brilliant artist who really feels what she writes,” Wasylyk says. “The cracked tenderness of her voice is spellbinding.”

The album closes with an instrumental piece, ‘Soul Enters The Ocean Sun Climbs Out Of The Sea’, all piano and strings, that offers a sense of resolution and ascension. A good moment, too, for Wasylyk to reflect upon the artistic companionship that he enjoyed while making this record – the songbirds that answered his call: “These humans are incredible at what they do. I’m deeply grateful and feel so lucky. It blows my mind.”

"Carol Maia & Jeremy Gustin’s haunting collaborative album is the result of a long distance partnership during which tracks were traded back and forth across thousands of miles, Jeremy working from his home studio in Brooklyn and Carol from hers in Rio De Janeiro. Later they enlisted support from a number of key players in the Rio scene, Frederico Heliodoro, Paulo Emmery, Ricardo Dias Gomes, and from Brooklyn’s musical community, Will Graefe and Ryan Dugre, to shape this understated masterpiece of sophisticated global pop and quiet experimentalism.
"It's hard to describe what Carol, Jeremy and their guests have achieved on 'it's nice to see a lake in your eyes', a kind of pop music that stands outside of time and is neither Brazilian, American or of any other recognisable place. Maybe it's risen out of the lake they imagined into being? Maybe it's formed like rain in the thousands of miles of air between Rio and New York? Whatever happened was certainly alchemical as you will hear.
"Carol told me her writing on this record was greatly influenced by her reading of Marcelo Ariel's poetry book A água veio do sol, disse o breu so maybe the best thing to do to describe this music is to let you read one of his poems:

A luz do ser é como a água
também veio do Sol
onde todos os planetas querem entrar

Dentro do Sol
O ser é imóvel
como a gratuidade de um êxtase
parecido com a respiração

Fora do Sol
o ser é móvel
Tempo eternidade
e tempo cronológico

The light of being is like water
it also came from the Sun
where all the planets want to enter

Within the Sun
Being is immobile
like the gratuitousness of an ecstasy
similar to breathing

Outside the Sun
Being is mobile
Time eternal
and chronological time

"Jeremy Gustin is an unorthodox drummer, percussionist and songwriter who has toured and recorded with Joan as Policewoman, Iggy Pop, David Byrne, Marc Ribot, Delicate Steve, and Norah Jones. If you follow Hive Mind then you probably know him best from his amazing work on Ricardo Dias Gomes' Muito Sol. Jeremy is also in the experimental pop bands Star Rover and Blurry the Explorer.
"Carol Maia is one of Rio's new generation of singers and musicians currently lighting up the city's vibrant music scene. She also featured heavily on Wolfgang Pérez's album Só Ouço, which was released on Hive Mind in 2025."

The epitome of a modern artist, Jana Bahrich does most things herself, no matter how painstaking - writing, producing, directing, often hand painting t-shirts the day of shows when the band have run out of merch. This has helped give her band Francis of Delirium a unique identity, with her rock confessionals breathing a new life in to the genre and her paintings creating a striking design aesthetic. Released as she was finishing high school, 2020’s single 'Quit Fucking Around’ was a great introduction and it remains one of her most enduring songs.

Shortly after it’s release, she signed to artist-first indie Dalliance Recordings (Gia Margaret, HighSchool, lilo) and three EPs - All Change (2020), Wading (2021), The Funhouse (2022) and a striking debut album - Lighthouse (2024) - on and Jana has Francis of Delirium flying. While the EP’s fizzed with promise, her debut album Lighthouse landed its punches. Seeking a more vulnerable and open sonic palette, she wove in pop elements to create anthems that celebrated heartbreak and love. Lead singles ‘Real Love’ and ‘First Touch’ were the first tracks she made with an outsider - working with GRAMMY winning producer Catherine Marks (boygenius, The Killers, Wolf Alice) - while the rest of the album was produced by Jana herself and day one collaborator Chris Hewett. The critics were impressed too - “Bahrich’s choruses, almost every one, are lumpin-your-throat gorgeous.” NME; “Jana Bahrich seems too young for this tremendous debut’s ambitious anthems.” Uncut; “A rewarding experience that captures a talented, young artist at the crossroads between adolescence and adulthood." Paste. Live, Francis of Delirium are Jana (guitar and vocals), Jeff Hennico (bass) and Denis Schumacher (drums). Together, their brilliant quiet-loud dynamic and tight interplay only elevate her songs and over the last 5 years, they’ve toured across Europe and North America, playing headline shows, festivals and tours with the likes of Blondshell, Briston Maroney, The Districts, Horsegirl and Soccer Mommy. They’ve also supported The 1975, Alanis Morissette, DIIV and Wolf Alice.

Last summer saw a memorable UK tour with Bôa, the 90s band resurrected by a huge TikTok moment for their track ‘Duvet’. There was a real sense of excitement for these shows with young crowds snaking outside every venue hours before doors and bringing the sort of energy Jana thrives on, she road tested new material to an overwhelmingly positive response, giving her the impetus to go and finish album two. An artist who seeks to connect with her listener on a deeper level, it’s no surprise then that she’s made hope and inner strength central themes on her new album, Run, Run Pure Beauty. Jana says the title track is “an imagining of the world after it has been destroyed by humans and technology. Thrashing against what humans have left behind, ultimately the pure beauty of nature wins out.”

Wanting to bring different perspectives into her songwriting with this record - informed by both her travels and the tumultuous times we find ourselves in - she’s also brought about a progression in her sound with these new songs somehow sounding larger, with undeniable harmonies and more orchestration. Featuring the singles ‘Little Black Dress’ and ‘It’s a Beautiful Life’, Run, Run Pure Beauty serves as an excavation of hope in bleak times. Produced by Jana and Chris, and mixed by Nicolas Vernhes (Deerhunter, Dirty Projectors, Silver Jews, Wild Nothing), its eleven songs of discovery, despair and perseverance ultimately serve as a mirror on its creator and is a brilliant next installment in the Francis of Delirium arc.

Full colour sleeve with rare use of the Italian only movie artwork.

A few years ago I issued the soundtrack to Virgin Witch, the score to an underground 1971
kinky British London / posh stately home horror that seemed more like an excuse to show as
many racy cars and devilish nude scenes as possible. This fleapit film was written by Hazel
Adair - the writer of legendary long-running TV series Crossroads, and her business partner at
the time Ken Walton (yes, the wrestling commentator). Virgin Witch was cheap and successful
enough to allow the whole team another go at the sexploitation game through their newly
formed production company Pyramid Films. Sex Clinic was the quick follow up; I say Sex Clinic,
the initial cinematic title was Clinic Xclusive, which was also called With These Hands, which
was also called La Masseuse Perverse. This film also came out in 1971 and they used the
musical services of Ted Dicks once again. Dicks had originally met Adair in 1960 through a cast
member performing in his first musical, Look Who’s Here.

If you are not aware of the great Ted Dicks, his quick bio reads as follows: born London 1928,
was educated through both grammar and art school and after National Service flirted with both
art and music. He worked with a series of very talented song writers - including Barry Cryer -
finally sparking properly with writer Myles Rudge. Together “Dicks and Rudge” had a hit with
their musical And Another Thing which starred Lionel Blair and Bernard Cribbins. Their talents
were spotted by producer George Martin and they followed this show success up with a series
of truly classic novelty pop chart hits, again with Cribbins - “Hole In The Ground” and “Right Said
Fred”. If you are not aware of the classic A Combination Of Cribbins LP they wrote, go and find
it. It includes “Gossip Calypso”, a triumph of novelty song writing that somehow manages to
squeeze in the lyric “Oxy-aceteline welder”, and is possibly the only song ever to do so. They
wrote further hits (winning an Ivor Novello for “A Windmill In Old Amsterdam”) and were in
constant demand throughout the 1960s and 1970s, working with artists such as Petula Clark,
Matt Munro, Bruce Forsyth, Topol and Kenneth Williams.

By the late 1960s Ted had also penned a handful of instrumental library cues including the
classic “Busy Boy” for the Standard Library company that got picked up as the theme for the
brilliant TV kids fantasy show Catweazle in 1970. It’s a light, kooky, hummable tune that lodged
its way deep in the mind of any child under 12 over the following decade.

When I first got the reels for Sex Clinic I’m not sure what I was sonically expecting - much of
Dicks’ music blends musical hall with jazz and some brilliant novelty - and maybe I was also
imagining a different kind of film to the one that was actually made. Turns out Sex Clinic is more
like a sleazy drama than an erotic adventure - I’ve read reviews that call it “nothing more than a
naked Crossroads”. Even knowing this I had no idea what the music was going to sound like. So
I was thrilled when it was almost the musical opposite of what I imagined. We have here a great,
easy jazz score. Not a proggy, wild or free jazz score, this is lightish, vibes-led, bluesy and really
charming, which gets slightly more lively when the naked pool party sequence kicks off, and
drifts effortlessly into more seductive midnight moods as and when required. And having now
seen the film, musically it’s unusually at odds with the on screen nudity, blackmail and revenge.

But like most of Ted’s work, the music sticks in your mind. Unlike the film. Which I suggest you
try and avoid unless you like watching plump randy middle aged men with terrible hair pursue
women half their age.

TRACKLISTING: There were no notes or titles to any of the cues on the reels. So I have just simply labeled the sides as per the reels that came in:

Somewhere close to Manchester’s ever changing city centre, as the sun fades and peeks through the newest glass facade, you’ll find Shaking Hand. One part in shadow, the other basking in prisms of light as they sketch out their own sonic landscapes in the dusty redbrick mill they call home. One that is just about clinging on from the encroaching developments that surround them.

Against this back-drop where buildings are constantly torn down & built back again, the three piece craft away. Pulling from early post-rock, and 90s US alternative rock, crafting their own brand of Northwest-emo. Assembling something new, yet nostalgic. Looking ahead towards the transforming horizon. Shaking Hand’s music is built on tension and release – quiets that stretch, louds that overwhelm. Repetition that feels both hypnotic and destabilising.

The band’s musical DNA runs through experimental guitar outfits like Women, Slint, Sonic Youth, Pavement, and Ulrika Spacek, balanced with the melodic sensibility of Big Thief and the dynamic intimacy of Yo La Tengo. Their compositions push against structure: sudden jolts of tempo, polyrhythms that almost fall apart, and riffs that unravel into something fragile or ecstatic. Yet, as Ellis notes, there’s an underlying warmth too: “Like walking through an empty city late at night but catching flickers of life in the buildings you pass.”

Early ideas like ‘Night Owl’ and ‘Sundance’ grew out of George’s lockdown “bedroom years,” where new tunings (open E, drop D, and stranger Pavement-inspired set-ups) opened up uncharted textures. Later, in grim rehearsal rooms, the murky epic ‘Cable Ties’ and the hypnotic ‘Mantras’ absorbed the gloom and grit of the band’s surroundings.

The album was recorded with producer David Pye (Wild Beasts, Teenage Fanclub) at Nave Studios in Leeds, housed in a converted church. “The live room was huge and perfect for capturing our sound,” says George. Determined to bottle their onstage energy, the band tracked the foundations live, layering vocals and guitars later. Soviet-era microphones, odd mic placements, and even phone-recorded demos fed into the mix. “You’ve got to watch out for David though,” Freddie laughs. “He made me play four tambourines in one hand, really hurt, man.”

Lyrically, the record drifts between abstraction and lived moments. George’s words often spill out instinctively, words falling into place before their meaning becomes clear. “A lot of the lyrics look like they’re buried in abstraction,” he says, “but when I look back I can see what they were about — whether that’s an emotional response at the time or just an observation of what was happening around me”. There’s contrast at the heart of it all – optimism vs. doubt, the lightness of youth vs. the monotony of work, a city in constant redevelopment vs. the people drifting through it.

The album artwork is taken from unused plans for the 1970s redevelopment of Los Angeles by architect Ray Kappe, entitled ‘People Movers’. Hypothetical buildings for real people, it feels a complement to the band’s own constructions. One thing’s for sure, Shaking Hand’s debut is built to last.

Guided By Voices’ last album Thick Rich And Delicious (October 2025) was lauded by NPR’s All Things Considered and picked #1 on Magnet Magazine’s Best Albums Of 2025. The single “We Outlast Them All” from this latest, Crawlspace Of The Pantheon, is an anthemic victory lap on album #44 from the indie rock stalwarts. Robert Pollard told Rolling Stone: “ ‘We Outlast Them All’ could be our ‘We Are The Champions’ but it’s not necessarily about us.

It’s about anyone who perseveres over a long period of time.” On Crawlspace Of The Pantheon: “I worked much more diligently on this set of lyrics. I chiseled away at lines and sections and phrasings...I wanted them to have an overall emotionally conceptual feel. At times it feels somewhat autobiographical.” Guided By Voices will not be on tour in 2026. Pollard recently told Magnet: “Why would we stop playing live and make these kinds of records? I don’t know. We do what we wanna do.” “Pollard is the greatest rock lyricist of all time.” —Dennis Cooper

2023 Backstock

New album of one of the biggest Reggae/Dub french soundsystem starring MacGyver, Rooty Step & Pupajim (who worked with Alpha Steppa, Biga Ranx, High Tone, Mungo's Hi-Fi ...).

Since their inception at start of the 2000s, Stand High Patrol have rocked sound systems to their own riddim, assimilating and re-purposing the codes of the genre in their own unique style. From tiny bars in Brittany to huge festival stages, on independent radio or across national airwaves, the crew have quietly trod their own path, never compromising their core value of independence. Connoisseurs have long recognised Stand High’s credentials both as a dub group and a leading sound system, but they stand out from the crowd because of their ability to deliver the unexpected, whether live or on record. Their ability to draw such a diverse audience is testament to this atypical approach to making music.

In 2020, almost 20 years since their humble beginnings, the collective presents their fifth album, “Our Own Way”. As with their first two albums “Midnight Walkers” and “Matter Of Scale”, now considered as classics in their genre, this new opus asserts itself as the latest representation of the crew’s versatile approach to crafting sound. Their music, a blend of its own known as “Dubadub”, has always borrowed influences from multiple sources, and over the course of their career their roots in dub and reggae have intertwined with hip-hop, jazz, new wave, trip-hop and numerous other genres. The ‘Dubadub Musketeers’ have never ceased experimenting, forever seeking to increase the sonic territory they cover, day after day. Both live and recorded, they’ve made it a point of honour to never offer up the same thing twice. Any resemblance that “Our Own Way” might bear to those first two albums is a consequence of this obvious creative continuity, rather than of going “back to basics”.

In contrast to the last two Stand High Patrol records, the hip-hop inspired “The Shift”, or the Bristol indebted “Summer On Mars”, “Our Own Way” doesn’t have a unifying concept or theme. Rather than being limited to a single aesthetic, the LP pays respect to the entire canon of Jamaican music, all unified under Stand High’s inimitable production values. With the wealth of experience gained during the recording of their last two records, the collective decided to aim for a freer project, letting themselves be guided by their own music and their own instincts. The end result is a musical portrait of what Stand High Patrol is in the present moment.

The tracks that make up the new LP burst out of the studio, each born out of unbridled, impulsive creativity. Previously unheard compositions and specially re-tooled dub plates have been assembled into a tracklist that shifts and moves like a classic Dubadub Musketeer live set. Each step of the process has been refined by years of practice : composition, effects, and the final mix. Throughout “On Our Way”, the brutal dub stepper, though still a favourite for sound system sessions, is noticeable by its absence. Instead, it’s the full weight of the crew’s reggae heritage that’s expressed in the mix. It's not just the depth and weight of each tune that strikes the listener, but also the spaces heard between the notes that grab and hold their attention.. The sense of a trip, whether musical, internal or geographic, is omnipresent throughout the LP, linking each track to those before and after. “Our Own Way” finds Stand High Patrol exploring as usual, yet also narrating their journey as they’ve rarely done before.

Chins For Lefty is the debut album and first recording by Gichard, a new duo chronicling the absurdities of end-stage capitalism and mouldering social rituals from their vantage point in Glasgow, Scotland. Recorded primarily in the band’s home studio straight to tape, Chins For Lefty combines gorgeous, ramshackle melody, DIY kosmische punk, drum machine + synth and, in vocalist/lyricist Lisa Jones, an absurdist commentator on the human condition as it navigates the anxieties of the modern world. Instrumentalist Chas Lalli’s swirling music accompaniment stitches an evocative mix of musical styles, the ragged wind beneath the lyrics’ wings.

Although the duo first collaborated in their previous group Dragged Up, their disparate musical and artistic backgrounds make for an alluring mix in Gichard. Lalli has spent the last 20 years in the Glasgow underground, most notably in the noise rock group VOM, while Lisa Jones’s practice was in poetry and spoken word. Beginning as co vocalist in her previous band, in Gichard her lyrics are centre stage; the vision concocted alongside Lalli amounts to a total world-build.

Chins For Lefty scans almost like a novel, with each track elucidating a skewed universe that bears only some resemblance to the one you and I partake in. Like all works of fiction Gichard’s songs are rooted in reality and the lived experiences of its authors, but here characters are exaggerated, social mores and habits are pulled apart to reveal their inherent alienness. Universal emotions are laid bare, the bright light of anxious examination searching out every hairline fracture in our relationships. Distorted and cracked, the mirror that Gichard hold up to our world is also pretty damn funny.

Opener Cholesterol Test launches an expansive, cosmic guitar and synth intro that belies the Tascam-tape recorder it was recorded onto, like a Chromatics cut substituting anxiety for overt sexuality. Here Jones intones an apology to a non-responsive recipient, in the medium of a long voice note forensically deconstructing an interaction from the night before. Over punk guitars and shuffling, lo-fi drum machine splutters, the narrator in Asking The Apes “prefers things to people” before being taken hostage in the city zoo to confess an obsession which consumes the protagonist, ending with the immortal two liner “I sleep in a cocoon of old newspapers at the end of your street / And I think I have been fired from my job,” On album standout Posthumous Hologram, the narrator is faced with a human simulacra, in this case an undead pop star; the face of the encroaching technological singularity. Yes, it does requests, it can do My Way in 200 different language options. But what are the implications? While you’re left pondering, the alternating deadpan verse delivery and undeniably catchy chorus keep you company.

By the time Break Up With Johnny Dogbirth rattles into view, the band are satirising a suburban inanity blown up to cartoon proportions, soundtracked with a drawled musicality that recalls Rowland S. Howard’s post-Birthday Party balladeering. This approach is furthered on Human Resources: over an angular guitar+bass track, Jones’s short story recalls Dry Cleaning’s erudite lyrical post punk. On Soft Face, Lalli’s guitar and drum machine are swathed in echo and delay, as Jones dissects dating rituals with a west of Scotland drollness. Hamming It Up brings a porcine perspective in a short story that begins with the line “I was breastfeeding discreetly in the service station. She didn’t mind.” What follows is a passage punctured with canned laughter and a narrative involving tribute acts, modern farming techniques.

Brilliant first single Your Private Hell closes the album, the closest the group get to earnest perhaps, filtered through a surreal central Scottishness. While Your Private Hell might seem like a sardonic take down of romance, perhaps it’s the very distillation of love in all its awkwardness, selflessness and weirdness. Here there’s a distinctive Glasgow-ness to this doomed romance: the protagonist falls for an outsider, offers them cheap jarred hot dogs and carbolic soap (the infamous, excoriating soap dished out in schools and government buildings throughout Scotland), offers to cover up a murder, stalks them in the all-night Spar. It’s a short story of intrigue, murder and the irresistible pull of self-sacrifice to share in someone else’s suffering. If that’s not love, what is it? You can see this vision mapped out in black and white on their video for 'Your Private Hell'.

'Honesty Flowers' is the fourth studio album from Italian multi-instrumentalist Alessio Ferarri under the Upupayāma moniker. An epic double album set due for release May 29th 2026 on Fuzz Club, 'Honesty Flowers' finds Upupayāma's ever mind-blowing brew of organic psychedelic rock meets global grooves at its most percussive, lively and distorted. Equally hedonistic and heady, it courses through rhythmic funk grooves, doubled-down scorched fuzz riffing, winding motorik jams, tranquil drones and pastoral acid-folk across its seventy minute run time. A six-piece band live, where things take a more ever-evolving improvisation-based approach (see their recent 'Live At Fuzz Club Festival '25' LP), on the recordings Ferarri writes, plays and records everything himself – guitars, keys, flute, sitar, and an arsenal of percussion all feature. Never not working on new music, Ferarri started laying down these new tracks in his home barn studio in a small mountain village overlooking the city of Parma before its 2024 predecessor 'Mount Elephant' even hit the racks. The result was mixed by Chris Smith at Kluster Sounds (Kikagaku Moyo, Wax Machine) and mastered by Joseph Carra (King Gizzard, Babe Rainbow, ORB) On the new record, Ferarri says: "Honesty Flowers was born from listening to lots of funk music from all over the world, lots and lots of African music, and from listening to myself as I spent whole nights playing all kinds of percussion instruments. I would fall into a sort of trance and play the same rhythm for hours on congas or on a djembe. It's an album that was born above all from the beauty of being able to narrate the unknown and recognise yourself in it, which could translate into telling stories and bringing them to life.

Singer/Songwriter Joshua Ray Walker’s made a name for himself with poignant, human portraits of flawed, fascinating characters. Now, on his latest album, Ain’t Dead Yet, Walker’s telling a more personal story – his own. “Human beings are super multi-faceted, and part of the reason I wrote about characters in the first place was because I could explore things about myself that I didn't feel comfortable exploring if I were to admit that it was really about me,” Walker says. “All my songs are about parts of me, I just didn't try to stick them on another fictional character this time.” Beneath the album’s flippant title resides some of Walker’s heaviest storytelling yet. Three years ago, when he started writing Ain’t Dead Yet (his sixth studio album, to be released May 29 via Thirty Tigers/East Dallas Records), Walker hadn’t yet received the cancer diagnosis that rearranged and threatened his life (he currently has a clean bill of health). But that year was still uncommonly fraught with mental, physical, and career stresses. Pulling the songs out of the can to finalize them for the album – including re-writing and re-working almost all the songs – Walker, who was then undergoing and recovering from cancer treatment, was surprised by their prescience.

BABY BLUE COLOUR VINYL

The Beths occupy a warm, energetic sonic space between joyful hooks, sun-soaked harmonies, and acerbic lyrics. Their debut album Future Me Hates Me, forthcoming on Carpark Records, delivers an astonishment of roadtrip-ready pleasures, each song hitting your ears with an exhilarating endorphin rush like the first time you heard Slanted and Enchanted or 'Cannonball.'

Front and center on these ten infectious tracks is lead singer and primary songwriter Elizabeth Stokes. Stokes has previously worked in other genres within Auckland's rich and varied music scene, recently playing in a folk outfit, but it was in exploring the angst-ridden sounds of her youth that she found her place. 'Fronting this kind of band was a new experience for me,' says Stokes. 'I never thought I had the right voice for it.'

From the irresistible title track to future singles 'Happy Unhappy' and 'You Wouldn't Like Me,' Stokes commands a vocal range that spans from the brash confidence of Joan Jett to the disarming vulnerability of Jenny Lewis. Further honeying Future Me Hates Me's dark lyrics that explore complex topics like being newly alone and the self-defeating anticipation of impending regret, ecstatic vocal harmonies bubble up like in the greatest pop and R+B of the '60s, while inverting the trope of the 'sad dude singer accompanied by a homogenous girl-sound.'

All four members of The Beths studied jazz at university, resulting in a toolkit of deft instrumental chops and tricked-out arrangements that operate on a level rarely found in guitar-pop. Beths guitarist and studio guru Jonathan Pearce (whose other acts as producer include recent Captured Tracks signing Wax Chattels) brings it all home with an approach that's equal parts seasoned perfectionist and D.I.Y.

'There's a lot of sad sincerity in the lyrics,' she continues, 'that relies on the music having a light heart and sense of humor to keep it from being too earnest.' Channeling their stew of personal-canon heroes while drawing inspiration from contemporaries like Alvvays and Courtney Barnett, The Beths serve up deeply emotional lyrics packaged within heavenly sounds that delight in probing the limits of the pop form. 'That's another New Zealand thing,' Stokes concludes with a laugh. 'We're putting our hearts on our sleeves—and then apologizing for it.'

Forever's spirit is high and tight, its sinews rumbling with communal joy as Glyders' power-trio formation, in it "for life", grooves deep into their own thing. Shuffling the deck with road-tested jams and a couple immaculate old-school tunes, Forever hits with the energy of a first album - which it kinda is, now that founders Joshua Condon and Eliza Weber have met their true other, the relentless traps-man Joe Seger. Forever starts now!

When Hot Mulligan took to social media to declare themselves #1 Hot New Band, it would have been easy to write off the terminally online emo quartet’s proclamation as yet another irreverent entry into their bag of tricks.

But it turns out Hot Mulligan have a way of manifesting things into existence, whether it’s name-dropping Michelle Branch and Mark Hoppus in song titles and netting responses from both (only one got the joke) or, true to their word, becoming synonymous with the newest waves of pop-punk and emo – err, post-emo, the genre Hot Mully have claimed responsibility for inventing. (Go ahead and fact-check it; they’ll wait.)

When Hot Mulligan took to social media to declare themselves #1 Hot New Band, it would have been easy to write off the terminally online emo quartet’s proclamation as yet another irreverent entry into their bag of tricks.

But it turns out Hot Mulligan have a way of manifesting things into existence, whether it’s name-dropping Michelle Branch and Mark Hoppus in song titles and netting responses from both (only one got the joke) or, true to their word, becoming synonymous with the newest waves of pop-punk and emo – err, post-emo, the genre Hot Mully have claimed responsibility for inventing. (Go ahead and fact-check it; they’ll wait.)