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Archimboldos have clawed their way out of the starcaves of their primordial past and into the tranquil light of a coral garden on their third full length album, Crusta Arcana, a gumbo stewpot of transcendent electronica suffused with tribal rhythms and liquid ambience. Across a stereo field smeared with tolling bells, post-industrial folk percussion, and tinkling keys, Archimboldos soundtrack a science fictional journey, not into the depths of space, but deep beneath the waves.

In the past the Chilean duo of Nicolás Carcavilla and Felipe Crocco have described their music as “liminal shrimp folk.” Here they continue this strange exploration when they visit the court of the prawns, producing stately electronic chamber orchestrations. Perhaps these are the frequencies used for ritual dream initiation into the mystery schools of drowned Atlantis. Weaving an ancient sacred science, Archimboldos take listeners on a mystic vovage into their singular crustacean mythology, the crusta of their hidden arcana.

Archimbolodos are masters of conjoining cyclonic and centrifugal lines of electricity into spellbinding incantations. These deep-sea transmissions envelope the listener into aquamarine forcefields that are as hallucinatory as they are hypnotic. Navigating these strange fantasias could lead one to getting lost at sea, but the work is buoyed by the somnolent melodies of lonely harpsichords and swelling synth pads whose sustained tones reach towards distant shores. Sailing across a vast expanse of oceanic harmonies and percolating percussion, these pieces are as precise as the hand of a sailor on the rudder, moving with the tide.

Casting their net wide across eight pieces, Archimboldos have made a big catch. From the emotive electronic counterpoint found on “Bursting Armor” to the blocks of seaweed tangled sonic sculpture trawled up from the ocean floor on “Aphelion IX.” Other songs are like samples of biological ambience collected from luminous tide pools: resplendent tones placed into a Petri dish of sound, swirled, cultured and fermented until it undulates with the rhythmic movement of microscopic lifeforms. Alternating between rippling minimalist sonority and pounding, progressive, synth-heavy entrancement, Crusta Arcana charts its own idiosyncratic itinerary of instrumental invention.

All the while light is down streaming from the heavens to pierce the waters, here calm, there choppy. The intrepid musical captains commanding Archimboldos have laid a course for new archipelagos of the imagination, guided by heavenly constellations.

-Justin Patrick Moore, author of The Radio Phonics Laboratory, Telecommunications, Speech Synthesis and the Birth of Electronic Music

Moving between lo-fi experimental songwriting, sparse post-punk textures and intimate recordings; Ukrainian artist Regina Collage’s new album ‘Horizont’ is a personal and honest document of rebuilding a life and creative voice in Bristol. The record holds space for themes of burnout, quiet shame, tenderness and the courage of staying emotionally open when the world feels unstable. Sung entirely in Ukrainian, ‘Horizont’ does not ask the listener to understand every word. Feeling carries the songs forward. Across bedroom recordings and borrowed studios, Regina moves between cloudy dissonance and stark minimal arrangements built around bass, fragments of guitar, and an exposed voice. The recordings hold onto their rough edges. Mistakes remain and imperfection becomes part of the story. “Music for me is about not being scared to be vulnerable,” Regina says. “Almost every song I have is about what it means to be open and emotional. I really do not think it is a weakness. I hope people can listen and feel welcome to take a break and just let their emotions exist.” The album takes its name from the Ukrainian word for “horizon,” that unreachable line where sky meets earth. For Regina, the horizon became a quiet metaphor for living with distance and uncertainty. Inspired by one of her collage artworks showing a figure lying in grass and staring toward that far line, the title track reflects a feeling of moving toward something that never quite comes closer. Even without understanding the lyrics, the song carries a slow sense of longing and suspended arrival. m‘Vpiznavaty’, by contrast, initially feels almost light. Beneath that surface is a candid portrait of burnout and depressive exhaustion. The song looks at those moments when even greeting friends feels overwhelming. It captures the quiet embarrassment of withdrawing from people you care about, and the slow recognition that sometimes stepping away is simply how you survive. Other songs reveal different sides of the same emotional landscape. ‘Weak’ strips everything back to bass, a hint of guitar, and a bare vocal. Written and recorded in a single instinctive session, the track circles around the idea that softness might be its own kind of strength. Repetitive and intentionally unpolished, it quietly sets the tone for the whole record. Running through ‘Horizont’ is the reality of Regina’s life between Ukraine and the UK. Her hometown Kharkiv continues to face attacks, and many of her friends remain on the front line.

Issued on Crystal Clear vinyl is Max Richter’s emotive and minimal score to Damon Lindelof’s TV series about a post-apocalyptic global event where 2%

of the world’s population disappears without explanation. Richter’s approach explores the feelings of the protagonist’s family, the Garveys, through intimate,

small scale music. He tackles this psychological landscape by bringing a ritual quality to the score, while themes of departure and loss are represented by

a sense of sonic decay, relying on the instrumentation of a few sustained tones on pianos, harps and celesta.

Max Richter is a classically trained composer that defies boundaries. Trained at the Royal Academy of Music and finishing his studies under the tutelage

of avant-garde composer Luciano Berio in Florence, Richter’s career has followed many paths. His musical output ranges from ballets

(Wayne MacGregor’s Infra), reinventions of classical works (Vivaldi’s Four Seasons), collaborations with The Future Sound Of London, Roni Size and

Vashti Bunyan to writing scores for film and TV (Waltz With Bashir, Lost and Found, Last Days on Mars) and solo work.

Lummer is the Swedish name for the now protected family of vascular plants (Clubmoss/Lycopodiaceae). Lummer grows slowly and the spores with which it reproduces can take 12—20 years to develop. These spores, known as Nikt in Swedish, were once ground into an extremely flammable light yellow “old woman’s gunpowder” that was used for early theatrical pyrotechnics. Volatile and explosive, Lummernikt requires careful handling.

There is something of the small scale dangerous in Finn Loxbo’s Lummernikt, too. A not-at-all-risk-free traversal at the limits of technique: building, blowing up and working through a band’s worth of harmonic scaffolding. Eight songs on a stage. Dramatic, breath-taking. At the same time the wild, flickering rush of tones spins up a centrifugal force that suspends a certain calm or sitting still at the music’s core.

On Lummernikt, Loxbo’s guitar often sounds more like a concert harp or the West African kora as he shifts a set of melodic fragments and extended lines through rapid-fire arpeggiated permutations with a spontaneous energy that is countered only by his extraordinary touch on the instrument and an undeniable sensitivity to his material’s dynamic potential.

It’s a glorious extension of the chiming chords and experimental preparations heard in his contributions to Magnus Granberg's Skogen (Another Timbre) or via his own ensemble Kommun (Fönstret, Thanatosis) and in striking contrast to the distorted wail he contributes to Anna Högberg Attack’s Ensamseglaren (Fönstret) or his all-in-the-red trio Kyosaku (Corbett vs Dempsey).

It’s now several years ago that Finn sent me the first recording of his new band Kommun and asked if I had suggestions for a label that might want to release it. I played that recording on repeat until I couldn’t shake the idea that I needed to start a label to put it out myself. Lummernikt is the spark that keeps that fire alive.

Spiral code is the second album released on An’archives by the Japanese trio archeus, after 2023’s Kusōzu: Nine Death Stages, and their seventh release altogether. It’s also the most staggering evidence yet of the single-minded pursuit of group-sound explored by Keiko Higuchi (voice, drums, percussion, trombone), Shizuo Uchida (4 strings), and TOMO (hurdy gurdy). For two tracks, “awakening, beyond recurrence” and “where points and lines intersect”, they’re joined by Kiyotaka Moriuchi, an improviser who’s played with the likes of Shoko Numao and Ensemble Shippolly, on percussion and darbuka (a goblet-shaped drum played widely across South East Asia).

Always able to scour magic from both their relationships with their instruments, and their non-idiomatic interplay, on spiral code they’ve widened their net further; the results oscillate from humid and claustrophobic blocks of noise to rivulets of tone coursing across post-volcanic landscapes, and on into simple gestures suspended in arctic space. Spiral code was recorded in a single day, on March 20 th 2025, at a studio in Koenji, Tokyo, the morning session with the original trio, and afternoon and evening session with Moriuchi – the first time archeus have played with a guest musician.

When asked about the music archeus makes together, TOMO is quick to isolate the singular characteristics of their collaboration: “we are trying to explore some new, unknown musical vocabulary every time we play. And what we are trying to achieve from every session is something unique, an interesting chemistry or, I should say, alchemical reaction among the three of us.” You can certainly hear that alchemy in the dynamic arc of their performances, the way they seem to be able to switch on a dime and push the music into unexpected terrain, all while sounding intimately archeus. “We have been playing for many years,” TOMO continues, “so I think that among three of us, we can telepathically sense, feel and understand what each of us is trying to express while we are playing.” It’s telling that guest musician Moriuchi fits so effortlessly into the archeus soundworld, able to hitch a ride on the intimate telepathy of Higuchi, Shizuo and TOMO; “I think he gave us some fresh air to our music,” the latter smiles. But that telepathy extends, even, to the name of the album itself, with all members pointing toward spiral imagery when naming the title track, whether TOMO’s evocation of Kundalini serpent imagery and Caduceus, to the spiral shape of DNA, what TOMO calls “the code of life.” It’s certainly deeply entwined music: spiral code is a helix of sound, a cylindrical coiling of possibility.

After hooking up with Ten’s Gary Hughes for his first three solo albums, and his fellow Hard Rain band-mate Paul Hodson for his fourth, when it came to ‘Spirit of Man’, Bob’s fifth album, the Magnum vocalist worked with the guys from Lost Weekend, along with Vince O’Regan (Escape, Legion, Pulse), who had been Bob’s touring guitarist for many of his solo shows. Vince and Bob also played many acoustic shows, and during this productive period the duo retired to Vince’s studio and recorded acoustic versions of songs covering Bob’s full solo career. The result is 11 songs highlighting the beloved velvet tones of Catley’s vocals and the melodic clarity of O’Regan’s delicate finger picking. No Magnum songs, but then this is purely a record of Bob Catley’s wonderful and highly successful solo career. Artwork and design by award-winning artist Sebastian Kozak (Ten, Crown of Thorns etc).

Josephine Foster’s distinctive instrumentation and balladry coupled with her remarkable soprano brings an otherworldly and ethereal sound to her esoteric sound. “Few artists have crafted a niche for themselves quite like Josephine Foster” The Guardian / “Foster stands alone with a markedly dark enchantment and seems to revel in her own cocktail of nocturnal folk spells” Drowned In Sound..

This is the 12" already immortalized by Gilles Peterson! Dub Souljah, with its classic Roots Reggae/Dub-styled horns and brilliant lead and backing vocals, comes in two versions when Ekowmania meets DJ Sotofett. The first version, in 1970s tradition, is a rocking dancefloor Disco Dub with extended and highlighted percussion parts. Then there's the Ultra Dub – a severely deep and reduced dub where horns and vocals surface only intermittently through constant echoed kicks, minimal hi-hats, and a two-tone bassline. The title track is from Ekowmania's Dr. Afrodub album, produced by Jimi Tenor, but this 12" also includes two non-album cuts: the psychedelic Afro twist of Afrolistic Rock & Roll, and the cosmic Latin-styled Kuusikasi Funk, featuring beautiful saxophone and flute by Jimi Tenor. THIS 12" IS CUT WITH LOUD VOLUME FOR EXCELLENT CLUB USE!

The compositions recorded here are a product of work with computers in synthetic speech, song and vocal sounds and were created between 1972 and 1975. The music was realized on two different computer music systems and takes advantage of, and attempts to extend and explore their features. The system employed to realize speech songs was created at the Bell Telephone Laboratories for research in synthetic speech and speech communication. Since the system was not designed for musical purposes, its limitations were severe and its musical use a great (and often rewarding) challenge. The system used for In Celebration and The Story of Our Lives was designed with the expressed purpose of creating synthetic musical voices, and was therefore much better suited to the task at hand. As with any high technology project, there was extensive collaboration in the production of the works.

The works on this disk are called computer music because the sounds were created numerically in a computer before reaching magnetic tape and loudspeakers. The computer did not compose the music. However, it was only used as a sound synthesis and analysis medium. In order to hear the sounds which are represented in the computer as successions of numbers it was necessary to attach a digital-to-analogue converter to the computer. The converter transformed the succession of numbers into a fluctuating voltage which was recorded directly on to audio tape.

The technique used to create the synthetic voices is called speech synthesis-by-analysis. For this method of speech synthesis, only those words, phrases and sentences which have been spoken into the computer previously (via an analogue-to-digital converter) may be synthesized. First the digitally-recorded speech is analyzed by programs which extract the attributes (parameters) of the speech for short time segments (.01 sec.). From these parameters the speech may be recreated in a form which resembles the original recording very closely. But for musical purposes the parameters are most often altered before synthesis. It is possible, for example, to change the natural pitch contour of the speech into a melodic line or to change the speech speed without altering the natural pitch level.

The variety of musical patterns which may be created from the analytic parameters is limited only by the composer's imagination. Most of the speech sounds on the recording were created by changing the pitch and duration attributes of the original on resynthesis, but for a few, the resonances (the formants) of the speech were altered as well. The voice of the book in The Story of Our Lives was created by replacing the program which simulates the sound of the human vocal cords with one consisting of 64 sine tones glissandoing at different rates. All the textures in which more than one voice is heard were obtained by mixing the synthetic voices together digitally.

Recorded in Los Angeles over the course of a single day at a studio in the Eagle Rock neighborhood, Dois Desertos was produced by Mario Caldato Jr. and emerged without a predetermined plan or schedule. The project took shape during Portuguese musician João Pimenta Gomes' stay in Los Angeles with his family. During that time, through Rodrigo Amarante, João met Mario and Samantha Caldato, as well as musicians Abe Rounds (drums and percussion) and Gabe Noel (bass and cello). From those encounters, the album began to unfold organically.

Working from simple scores—some containing little more than chord progressions—the sessions left plenty of room for improvisation. Every performance was captured live, in a single take, with no overdubs. The mixing process, also carried out live by Mario Caldato Jr., followed the same philosophy: effects and level adjustments were performed in real time and printed directly to the final two-track master.

At the heart of the album's sound is the Cristal Baschet, a rare instrument played by rubbing glass rods with the hands, causing metal resonators to vibrate and produce an ethereal, resonant tone. João describes its sound as "a trace, almost like a shadow." Rather than taking the lead, the instrument serves as a textural foundation, while the bass and cello carry the melodic lines. Some of these melodies are original compositions, while others draw from traditional Portuguese fado, reimagined through an open and exploratory approach.

The album has a dreamlike atmosphere, reflecting the perspective of someone experiencing Los Angeles from the outside—not in a rush to belong, but fully receptive to the city's unique energy. Two films helped shape this imaginary landscape: Model Shop (Jacques Demy, 1969), in which the French filmmaker uses Los Angeles as a pretext to simply observe and inhabit the city, and Thom Andersen's Los Angeles Plays Itself. The result is Dois Desertos, an album that, in João's own words, "could never have been made anywhere else."

With Dois Desertos, João Pimenta Gomes invites listeners into a deeply immersive experience, revealing a more exploratory side of his artistic practice while reinforcing Amor in Sound's commitment to releasing original works that engage with the many languages of contemporary music.

Tommy McCook was not only a founding member of the legendary Jamaican Ska group The Skatalites, but also a brilliant musical arranger. His informed understanding of Jazz, R&B and in fact most music styles would always add another layer to any song put his way. This made him the go to guy for most of the Jamaican producers, who would use his arrangement skills to pepper up their latest tunes.

Tommy McCook, (b1927, Havana, Cuba) came to Jamaica with his mother from Cuba aged 11 and entered renowned Alpha Boys School for underprivileged children, a school that placed great emphasis on musical tuition. At the tender of 14, such was his talent he has left to join Eric Deans Orchestra and took on stints with other bands led by Don Hinchman and Roy Coburn. All the bands played in the Swing and Jazz style of the times. He relocated to the Bahamas in 1954 where he further developed his Jazz technique and upon his return to Jamaica in 1962 began working Coxsone Dodd’s Studio One and became involved in the development of Ska. His knowledge of Jazz, R& B and Jamaican musical forms helped set the tone for the group of musicians he was working with and would name the Skatalites. The group, consisting of Don Drummond (Trombone), Roland Alphonso (Tenor Saxophone), Jackie Mitoo (Piano), Lloyd Brevett (Bass), Lloyd Knibbs (Drums), alongside Tommy himself on Tenor Saxophone. The group would back all the major Ska vocalists pf the day and would also go on to cut a catalogue of instrumental music. The Skatalites split up in 1965 and Tommy McCook moved over to work with Duke Reid’s Treasure Isle Studios where he formed The Supersonics. A set of musicians under his guidance that consisted of Lynn Tait and Ernest Ranglin (Guitar), Neville Hinds and Winston Wright (Organ), Gladstone “Gladdy” Anderson (Piano), Hugh Malcolm and Arkland “Drumbago” Parks (Drums), Clifton “Jackie” Jackson (Bass), and Tommy and Hernon Marquis (Saxophone). The more laid back sounds from 1966-1968 would be given the name Rocksteady of which again McCook was at the forefront. The top producers like Bunny Lee would use the musicianship of Tommy McCook and his arrangement skills to enhance this new sound.

We have compiled a great selection of rhythms that featured McCook blowing over tracks stripped of their vocals and replaced with some fantastic lead lines played by Tommy and some of his fellow horns men.
We hope you agree like we do that they do this in fine style.

Time Heals Everything is the fifth studio album from Blu and Exile, a duo that first connected in 2007 and has spent nearly two decades refining a chemistry that continues to evolve. The ten-track LP follows 2024’s Love (the) Ominous World and leans deeper into their core strengths: soul-forward production, incisive writing, and left-field choices that feel instinctive rather than experimental.
The album opens with “Soul Unusual,” a mission statement that builds on the lineage of “Soul Provider” and “Soul Amazing,” reframed through Blu’s present-day perspective. “The word special comes to mind,” Blu explains. “This is my perspective of those songs now.” Exile adds that the record went through multiple iterations before landing in its final form. “Once I changed the beat, it really came together for me, and his words hit differently,” he says, setting the tone for a project rooted in refinement and intention.
“Crumbs” pairs Blu with Rome Streetz and ICECOLDBISHOP on a golden era-inspired backdrop, taking aim at the ‘crumbs’ people are expected to accept from corrupt systems of power. The track underscores one of the album’s central themes: clarity through experience, and the perspective that comes with time.
Time Heals Everything finds Blu and Exile honoring their foundation while continuing to push forward, proving once again that soul and risk-taking can coexist without compromise. “We took a different approach with the direction while still staying true to the culture our music has built with our fan base,” Blu says. In 2026, that culture remains alive, evolving, and resonant as ever.

A Project dealing with the relative length of time at a record label and the effect of adding another zero. To explore this passage of time and all those memories, we’ve commissioned remixes of key tracks from the LEX catalog by artists we love and admire. The album features contributions from Danger Mouse & Jemini, Fly Anakin & Pink Siifu, Eyedress, Golden Rules featuring Yasiin Bey and Freddie Gibbs, Neon Neon feat. Cate Le Bon, alongside Kaleida, Belief, Nevermen, Prince Po and MF DOOM. With remixes that reinterpret the tracks by Boards of Canada, Kevin Shields of My Bloody Valentine, DJ Premier, Prefuse 73, Madlib, Stereolab, Warpaint, King Krule, Chad Hugo and Thom Yorke. The limited edition physical release is presented in a rigid slipcase, with the vinyl housed in a triple sleeve gatefold, and accompanied by a large format board book, with both featuring artwork by Commission Studios. The records are pressed on 180g heavyweight vinyl, with the D-Side finished with a bespoke etched design.

The most beautiful thing we’ve ever released?

It is virtually impossible to describe with mere words how emotionally powerful this work of art is. Just listen. Listen, listen, listen...

A blissed-out 80-minute epic, Hatchback's Phaser For The Ocean, Chorus For The Moon is his magnum opus, a sprawling masterwork that encompasses ambient, new age and environmental music to wondrous effect. Moving, hypnotic and deeply meditative, it's FFO Mike Brooks, Deuter, Klaus Weiss, Innovative Communication, Harmonia, Cluster, Ashra's New Age of Earth, Stomu Yamashta, Haruka Nakamura, Yoshimura, Hosono, the works.

A record truly deserving of the deluxe Be With treatment, the vinyl was specially cut at Abbey Road Studios whilst the original stunning artwork has been pleasingly expanded. Now, an eye-catching holographic-foil layer moon is set against the original tones, wrapped up in a sumptuous double-gatefold jacket.

Soaked in Californian consciousness and limited to a run of just 500 copies for the world, this release is a treasured balm like no other for these troubled times.

Hatchback is the atmospheric, melodious ambient alias of California-based artist Samuel Milton Grawe. Sam creates music that sings of the Cosmos, full of deep resonant tones, glistening arpeggios, lush pads and harmonic motifs.

"When I first was getting into the creative side of music making in my teens, I was heavily influenced by concept albums like Quadrophenia and The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway, as well as epic pieces that took up an entire side of a record: Pink Floyd’s Echoes, Yes’ Close To The Edge, Klaus Schulze’s Nowhere Now Here, Miles Davis' Shhh/Peaceful and He Loved Him Madly. In the extreme, these ideas coalesced in double albums where each side of each record is occupied by a single title - Yes’ Tales From Topographic Oceans and Tangerine Dream’s Zeit being primary examples. When I returned to making music after moving back to Northern California in 2020, the first piece I recorded landed around the 20-minute mark, and the idea of creating three other long pieces to realize a full album felt like a natural - if indulgent - goal. From there, each new piece followed sequentially. Four songs. My fourth album." - Sam Grawe

Phaser For The Ocean Chorus For The Moon is a pure expression, informed by a lifetime of deep listening unbound by algorithms or AI. These are songs for the sunrise and the sunset - and every colour in between.

Kitsune No Yomeiri, which translates to the fox’s wedding, is an endearing expression used to describe sunshowers. Dawson returned home from a recent tour of Japan with a collection of field recordings documenting the spring rain he encountered throughout his travels. These curious sounds, stretching from peaceful shrines to clattering city streets, underpin the material.

Dawson also credits the wonderful folks he met on that tour with profoundly shaping the direction of the album. After each show he found himself immersed in inspiring conversations about the guitar. Through navigating the language barrier, he discovered he was communicating with an immense sincerity that he would ordinarily avoid at all costs. “I’ve always just made records at home in a vortex, but this time it felt like those conversations were there with me in the studio.”

Musically the album has a slight western slant. It’s not country, but it does see Dawson lean softly into his prairie past. Constellations of stray notes and rusted tones form nostalgic melodies, like chance encounters between old friends. Dawson allows phrases and gestures to repeat across the record, resulting in a collection that’s more akin to turning the pages of a novel than a series of vignettes vying for attention.

When Drop Nineteens disbanded in the mid-'90s, singer Greg Ackell decided he would never make music again. He wouldn't noodle around on a guitar in his basement. He wouldn't get a group of friends together just to jam. He was done with music entirely. Following the release of the shoegaze masterpiece Delaware in 1992, and the intricate experimentations on National Coma in 1993, the group disbanded. They shared stages with Radiohead, Hole, Blur, PJ Harvey and Smashing Pumpkins. They went from being teenagers in Boston to mid-twenty-somethings with a few MTV videos, a couple BBC sessions and numerous festival appearances under their belt. So when Drop Nineteens ceased to be, Ackell felt content. He had the rest of his life in front of him to figure out what he wanted to do. Music was a closed chapter.That was until 2021, when a friend from the band's early days got Greg on the phone to suggest making some music together, just to see how it felt. Instead of shutting it down like he had been doing over the years, he decided to entertain the prospect. For the first time in nearly 30 years, he picked up a guitar with intent. He immediately called up Steve Zimmerman, the band's bassist and fellow guitarist, and the two got writing. It felt effortless for Ackell, like he never stopped writing music. "We were off to the races," he says, "But also the question came up: what does a Drop Nineteens song sound like today?" Enter Hard Light, the band's stunning third record. It's the band's proverbial follow up to Delaware, a modern Drop Nineteens record that is completely singular in its sound and vision. The first task making Hard Light was, of course, getting the rest of the band back together. Drop Nineteens is an inherently collaborative project. Ackell writes the lyrics, and he works with band members Steve Zimmerman, Paula Kelley, Motohiro Yasue, and Peter Koeplin to create the sonic world. The record came together over the course of a year, recording at a patchwork of studios all around the country: Boston, Brooklyn, San Francisco, Los Angeles. When Kelley and Ackell first heard their vocals recorded together on the opus album closer "T", the chemistry was undeniable. Making music together felt natural, fluid, exciting.Hard Light is a romantic record in the literary sense. Beauty from longing; longing from beauty. You put the album on and want to be clad in a velvet dress sprawled across a fainting couch. You want to be holding someone's hand while you sit back in the tall grass. The guitars are expansive and expressive as ever. Ackell and Kelley's vocals are cool, crystalline, and luminous. "Gal" comes on like a dream. The vocals pour in when you least expect them, once in the middle, where Ackell delivers one of the strangest (and best) lyrics on the record, "And there were snakes/with cats at the wheel." Hard Light's first single, "Scapa Flow" is triumphant and an excellent example of what a modern day Drop Nineteens song sounds like. The guitars glide cloud-like, floor toms shuffle and rumble in the background, searching. Ackell and Kelley's vocals are as toned as they are bound. Hard Light is every bit the ride that Delaware was, diverse in its sounds, with surprises at every turn. Drop Nineteens have brought clarity and cool in 2023 to the genre they helped create. A portrait of a band 30 years later, as talented and dedicated to their craft as ever. To put it more bluntly, they're at the top of their game.

In a world increasingly shaped by disposable content, Chat Pile answer with something defiantly real and organic, a mentality that permeates Who Loves The Sun, their third full-length record. Since the band’s formation just over six years ago, the Oklahoma City-based quartet Chat Pile has grown from a scrappy passion project into one of the defining heavy acts to emerge from the 2020s underground. Ray B. (vocals), L. Manhole (guitar), Stin (bass), and Cap’n Ron (drums) create a crushing, crass, and cathartic take on noise rock that captures a raw, undeniably human essence in an age marked by technological overreach and the cold state of society. Nothing about Who Loves The Sun feels synthetic.

Whereas their debut album God’s Country depicted a particularly American flavor of dread, and the follow up Cool World showed a cruel planet defined by global systemic violence, Who Loves The Sun peels the skin back on how collective indifference defines this new century. Spanning imagery of coastlines devouring cities, dead-end jobs, and submission to data-driven inauthenticity, the album dissects the apathy-bloated state of 21st-century existence as a slow-motion apocalypse. As with much of Chat Pile’s work, Oklahoma City itself looms over the album like a character, its sprawling isolation, economic contradictions, and underlying sense of decay embedded in the fabric of the record. The perfect allegory for the thematic essence of Who Loves The Sun is the photo embossed on the record’s cover, where Devon Tower, a glassy, largely vacant monolith, looms high above the Oklahoma City skyline while a burnt-out home or storefront envelops the foreground. The album remains lyrically and sonically confrontational, but Chat Pile approached the songwriting with hooks in mind, drawing on melodic tones of pre-2000s indie rock, alt-rock, and new wave. From the blood-soaked vocal passages of “Christabel ’26” to the eerie trip-hop pulse of “Same Rules,” Who Loves The Sun is deeply human despite its allusions to a dying, divided .

In a world increasingly shaped by disposable content, Chat Pile answer with something defiantly real and organic, a mentality that permeates Who Loves The Sun, their third full-length record. Since the band’s formation just over six years ago, the Oklahoma City-based quartet Chat Pile has grown from a scrappy passion project into one of the defining heavy acts to emerge from the 2020s underground. Ray B. (vocals), L. Manhole (guitar), Stin (bass), and Cap’n Ron (drums) create a crushing, crass, and cathartic take on noise rock that captures a raw, undeniably human essence in an age marked by technological overreach and the cold state of society. Nothing about Who Loves The Sun feels synthetic.

Whereas their debut album God’s Country depicted a particularly American flavor of dread, and the follow up Cool World showed a cruel planet defined by global systemic violence, Who Loves The Sun peels the skin back on how collective indifference defines this new century. Spanning imagery of coastlines devouring cities, dead-end jobs, and submission to data-driven inauthenticity, the album dissects the apathy-bloated state of 21st-century existence as a slow-motion apocalypse. As with much of Chat Pile’s work, Oklahoma City itself looms over the album like a character, its sprawling isolation, economic contradictions, and underlying sense of decay embedded in the fabric of the record. The perfect allegory for the thematic essence of Who Loves The Sun is the photo embossed on the record’s cover, where Devon Tower, a glassy, largely vacant monolith, looms high above the Oklahoma City skyline while a burnt-out home or storefront envelops the foreground. The album remains lyrically and sonically confrontational, but Chat Pile approached the songwriting with hooks in mind, drawing on melodic tones of pre-2000s indie rock, alt-rock, and new wave. From the blood-soaked vocal passages of “Christabel ’26” to the eerie trip-hop pulse of “Same Rules,” Who Loves The Sun is deeply human despite its allusions to a dying, divided .

In a world increasingly shaped by disposable content, Chat Pile answer with something defiantly real and organic, a mentality that permeates Who Loves The Sun, their third full-length record. Since the band’s formation just over six years ago, the Oklahoma City-based quartet Chat Pile has grown from a scrappy passion project into one of the defining heavy acts to emerge from the 2020s underground. Ray B. (vocals), L. Manhole (guitar), Stin (bass), and Cap’n Ron (drums) create a crushing, crass, and cathartic take on noise rock that captures a raw, undeniably human essence in an age marked by technological overreach and the cold state of society. Nothing about Who Loves The Sun feels synthetic.

Whereas their debut album God’s Country depicted a particularly American flavor of dread, and the follow up Cool World showed a cruel planet defined by global systemic violence, Who Loves The Sun peels the skin back on how collective indifference defines this new century. Spanning imagery of coastlines devouring cities, dead-end jobs, and submission to data-driven inauthenticity, the album dissects the apathy-bloated state of 21st-century existence as a slow-motion apocalypse. As with much of Chat Pile’s work, Oklahoma City itself looms over the album like a character, its sprawling isolation, economic contradictions, and underlying sense of decay embedded in the fabric of the record. The perfect allegory for the thematic essence of Who Loves The Sun is the photo embossed on the record’s cover, where Devon Tower, a glassy, largely vacant monolith, looms high above the Oklahoma City skyline while a burnt-out home or storefront envelops the foreground. The album remains lyrically and sonically confrontational, but Chat Pile approached the songwriting with hooks in mind, drawing on melodic tones of pre-2000s indie rock, alt-rock, and new wave. From the blood-soaked vocal passages of “Christabel ’26” to the eerie trip-hop pulse of “Same Rules,” Who Loves The Sun is deeply human despite its allusions to a dying, divided .

In a world increasingly shaped by disposable content, Chat Pile answer with something defiantly real and organic, a mentality that permeates Who Loves The Sun, their third full-length record. Since the band’s formation just over six years ago, the Oklahoma City-based quartet Chat Pile has grown from a scrappy passion project into one of the defining heavy acts to emerge from the 2020s underground. Ray B. (vocals), L. Manhole (guitar), Stin (bass), and Cap’n Ron (drums) create a crushing, crass, and cathartic take on noise rock that captures a raw, undeniably human essence in an age marked by technological overreach and the cold state of society. Nothing about Who Loves The Sun feels synthetic.

Whereas their debut album God’s Country depicted a particularly American flavor of dread, and the follow up Cool World showed a cruel planet defined by global systemic violence, Who Loves The Sun peels the skin back on how collective indifference defines this new century. Spanning imagery of coastlines devouring cities, dead-end jobs, and submission to data-driven inauthenticity, the album dissects the apathy-bloated state of 21st-century existence as a slow-motion apocalypse. As with much of Chat Pile’s work, Oklahoma City itself looms over the album like a character, its sprawling isolation, economic contradictions, and underlying sense of decay embedded in the fabric of the record. The perfect allegory for the thematic essence of Who Loves The Sun is the photo embossed on the record’s cover, where Devon Tower, a glassy, largely vacant monolith, looms high above the Oklahoma City skyline while a burnt-out home or storefront envelops the foreground. The album remains lyrically and sonically confrontational, but Chat Pile approached the songwriting with hooks in mind, drawing on melodic tones of pre-2000s indie rock, alt-rock, and new wave. From the blood-soaked vocal passages of “Christabel ’26” to the eerie trip-hop pulse of “Same Rules,” Who Loves The Sun is deeply human despite its allusions to a dying, divided .

Glasgow’s Hot Towel are a DJ & production duo, community dance party organiser and now record label reimagining the balearic spirit far from its original context and sunnier climes.

This debut EP contains 4 dance floor focused tracks tested and developed on the Hot Towel dance floor and beyond. Produced over the last 4 years in grey and rainy Glasgow these 4 tracks reinterpret the joy of warmth, connection and world building in dance music.

Warm in Your Office is a feet on the floor, head in the clouds, bouncing 90’s piano house inspired track with warm driving bass, punchy gated snare, percussion samples and a surprising nostalgic drop for fans of late 90’s and early 00’s Serie A.

The lo-fi beatbox rhythm of Low Pressure in Paradise features a melodic, rumbling bassline, vintage synth string stabs and a warm melancholic synth pad swell reminiscent of the day after the night before, or the thunderous ambience of an oncoming storm and the reflection that brings. Think warm orange and magenta sunset overcast with heavy mauve clouds and possibly a hangover from one too many negronis.

A sunbaked synth flute melody shimmers like heat haze in the latin / balearic inspired beach bar romp Last Minute Staycation. Cowbell and syncopated piano move the hips, while romantic synth strings pine for that magical other world away from the mundane. A shift in tone midway evokes the peril of a balearic dream turned nightmare, capped off with timbale and a shredding electric guitar solo serving Lambada meets Zappa.

Endless Cosmic Procession is a downtempo balearic builder that chugs along with minimal effort. Tuned percussion drives the groove, with bass and synth punctuations that reverberate into space and swirl with delay. A rising arpeggiator gently brings melody to complete the harmonic space of the track that rounds off the EP with a contemplative dance floor moment.

New Japanese Ambient Electronica from Tokyo

Composing primarily with the piano, Kotaro Maruyama creates music for a variety of visual media, including commercials and short films. Influenced by the composer Toru Takemitsu, he places importance on the “silence” and "ambience" of sound, aiming to create works where the music quietly depicts a scene.

Kotaro Maruyama's first solo album, "Vapor Curve," is constructed entirely from the sound source of the OP-Z digital synthesizer. Notably, he avoids the concept of harmony for a single tone, instead pursuing a unique "woven harmony" created by intricately layering multiple independent melodies. Using only the OP-Z, and recording everything in a single take without using a computer, Kotaro Maruyama's "Vapor Curve" is distinguished by its uncompromising production style. The minimalist melodies that are layered to create an ambient soundscape, along with the incidental noise that gives an organic texture to the inorganic electronic sound, showcase the raw appeal of sound that is imperfect."

Originally scheduled for release September 2025, this album faced delays due to a series of errors involving the distributor, pressing plant, and cutting engineer. However, earlier this year, Personal Affair teamed up with a new distributor, Rubadub, who introduced them new pressing plant, allowing them to restart the entire pressing process from scratch. Emerging from Tokyo via Glasgow, this release is now ready to deliver a fresh sound to the world."

Bypass EP brings label friend Connor Wall to Stelus, his deepest body of work yet, pushing further into the core of his signature palette than anything before. The A-side sets a tone and holds it. 'Bypass' opens with melancholic ambience, patient and unhurried, establishing the mood that carries the release. 'Listen to Me Talk' follows with something stranger, crafted for late hours and darker moments. 'Maple Lok' closes the A-side as a slow burner, a long gurgling lead hook winding through textural restraint. The B-side opens at the release's peak. 'Infotrut' brings warm, powerful low end paired with swampy overtones, earning the spotlight without asking for it. 'Ocean Brain' closes in full turbine hypnosis, completing the picture and confirming the depth of Connor's sound. Depth has no shortcut.

The compositions recorded here are a product of work with computers in synthetic speech, song and vocal sounds and were created between 1972 and 1975. The music was realized on two different computer music systems and takes advantage of, and attempts to extend and explore their features. The system employed to realize speech songs was created at the Bell Telephone Laboratories for research in synthetic speech and speech communication. Since the system was not designed for musical purposes, its limitations were severe and its musical use a great (and often rewarding) challenge. The system used for In Celebration and The Story of Our Lives was designed with the expressed purpose of creating synthetic musical voices, and was therefore much better suited to the task at hand. As with any high technology project, there was extensive collaboration in the production of the works.

The works on this disk are called computer music because the sounds were created numerically in a computer before reaching magnetic tape and loudspeakers. The computer did not compose the music. However, it was only used as a sound synthesis and analysis medium. In order to hear the sounds which are represented in the computer as successions of numbers it was necessary to attach a digital-to-analogue converter to the computer. The converter transformed the succession of numbers into a fluctuating voltage which was recorded directly on to audio tape.

The technique used to create the synthetic voices is called speech synthesis-by-analysis. For this method of speech synthesis, only those words, phrases and sentences which have been spoken into the computer previously (via an analogue-to-digital converter) may be synthesized. First the digitally-recorded speech is analyzed by programs which extract the attributes (parameters) of the speech for short time segments (.01 sec.). From these parameters the speech may be recreated in a form which resembles the original recording very closely. But for musical purposes the parameters are most often altered before synthesis. It is possible, for example, to change the natural pitch contour of the speech into a melodic line or to change the speech speed without altering the natural pitch level.

The variety of musical patterns which may be created from the analytic parameters is limited only by the composer's imagination. Most of the speech sounds on the recording were created by changing the pitch and duration attributes of the original on resynthesis, but for a few, the resonances (the formants) of the speech were altered as well. The voice of the book in The Story of Our Lives was created by replacing the program which simulates the sound of the human vocal cords with one consisting of 64 sine tones glissandoing at different rates. All the textures in which more than one voice is heard were obtained by mixing the synthetic voices together digitally.

In Walter Benjamin’s seminal essay “Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, he posits that the aura of art objects is destroyed by the ability to photographically reproduce them. When you had to make a pilgrimage to a work it remained elusive, charged, ever distant; but when you can easily see a reproduction, such aura dissipates. What Benjamin did not anticipate is that in the age of AI and the frictionless fount of digital content, we have imbued mechanical and analog means of media production with aura. Film cameras from the last 100 years are in high demand (the point and shoot Olympus Mju I featured in Wim Wenders film Perfect Days still sells for $200), vinyl sales continue to grow year by year, 35mm and 70mm film screenings have become aura-drenched events people travel across country for, and as to the world of vintage and analog synthesizers, when a friend asked for the price on the Yamaha CS-80 synth used on Toto’s “Africa”, the answer was a cool $60,000.

Despite the ability to simulate almost any synthesizer on a computer, the original physical units retain their mystique. Perhaps this lies in the physical process, many of these synths are temperamental and difficult to fully utilize, and the effort and ingenuity can be felt in ways that will always be absent from easy digital simulacra. Perhaps there is an aura in their imperfection, as Brian Eno wrote: “Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit - all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided.” Some may call this nostalgia, but such sonic imperfections are the sounds of humans interacting with the physical world, and it is understandable to feel a pang of emotion and attachment in a time of exponential alienation.

Marche 22 was recorded over a week at the Museo Del Synth Marchigiano in Macerata, Italy. The museum is filled with rare and obscure synths (especially CRB, GEM & Elka) as well as salvaged materials from a nearby shuttered Farfisa organ factory, including MARS, an unfinished realtime audio processing application developed by IRIS - similar to the now well known MAX/MSP. Kyle Dixon and Michael Stein play a suite of pieces that encompasses the last sixty years of synthesizer music—there are nods to Cluster, Tangerine Dream, Jean Michel Jarre, and Morton Subotnick. Dixon and Stein are like jazz masters playing the American songbook with their own riffs and quotations. What shines through in these varied works that are sometimes rhythmic, sometimes melancholic, and sometimes both, is a soul, a spirit, an emotion vibrating through the tones like the charge of coming rain or the thrum of a distant train on the tracks. - Neil Fauerso

American experimental composer Stephen O’Malley releases Avaeken, two sides of immense, immersive, self-annihilating music via Dais Records.

The record preserves site-specific work: O’Malley installed Avaeken as part of Wish You Were Here, the exhibition by renowned American artist Banks Violette, underscoring the tension between presence and absence, life and loss.

O’Malley and Violette have developed a distinct language of sound, space, and sculpture over the past two decades, reverberating through the walls of world-class institutions from The Guggenheim and Centre Pompidou to prominent galleries such as Maureen Paley in London, Gladstone Gallery in NYC, and Antwerp’s TICK TACK, the brutalist space where Wish You Were Here unfolded in early 2026.

Emerging now as an LP, Avaeken presents power and phenomena: low-frequency vibrations, deep oscillations, and phase cancellations that translate as innately effective in any environment. Violette’s visual expression — the impossibility of locating yourself within the loss of a friend and the broader decay of culture — now fills the LP sleeve and feels inextricable from O’Malley’s sound, both still without resolution.

“Natural harmonic tone coloured by the valves of the amplification is the one desired characteristic,” reads the initial notes.

“At first I asked, why would I write for another guitar player?” he says. “I realized how amazing it is to be a listener on the other side of the music; together we were able to try all these precisions with intonation, harmonics, specific microtonal ideas.”

The quartet performed Avaeken several times before O’Malley joined them for a recording session at Muziekcentrum De Bijloke, a 13th-century former hospital with modern acoustics in Ghent.

What is Buck? Buck is a state of mind, a way of life, a demeanor that gets you through the good times and the bad. If you ask Brainstory, It is also the energy that permeates their debut album. Kevin, Tony, and Eric are a trio of brothers bounded by blood, fate, and a small town with nothing to do. Their story begins in the long lost lands of the San Bernardino Valley, in the twilight zone known as Rialto, California: An arid wasteland of boredom and empty lots. Through punk rock and skateboarding they found temporary liberation from the local monotony. However, it wouldn't be long before a hunger for more led them to explore musical realms beyond that of the hardcore punk they admired. After stints at music school and steady disappointment trying to navigate their local jazz scene they moved to Los Angeles and Brainstory was born. Through a introduction from Chicano Batman's bassist, Brainstory caught the ears of Big Crown head honchos Danny Akalepse and Leon Michels. Shortly thereafter they were on their way to Queens, to record at The Legendary Diamond Mine with Michels at the helm. An instant chemistry yielded 10 songs in 10 days and now Brainstory has gifted the world with one hell of an introduction to all things Buck. Highlights include the sublime slow burner, "Dead End" which was the A-side to their first 45 on Big Crown that sold out in a matter of days. With Kevin's sublime falsetto floating atop Tony and Eric's unflappable and unmistakable backbeat, this tune has become a favorite with the ballad heads, the low-riders, and the slowie collectors. "Breathe" showcases another side of their sound taking a page out of the Shuggie Otis playbook and flipping the script with some stoned out west coast swag. Kev and Tony's father, Big Tone, an accomplished performer himself, steps in on "Peter Pan" to sing lead vocals over a chorus of friends and family. Bassist extraordinaire, Tony, takes over lead vocal duties on "Sorry", a smoked out, G Funk groove that is just waiting to be sampled. These guys have come a long way from their self released EPs and opening tours with Chicano Batman. Their musical growth is undeniable, and taking their California sunshine vibes and mixing them with Michels' NYC aesthetic has proven to be an amazing combination. It's a debut record that pulls influences from so many genres seamlessly it's hard to nail down. Call it Funk, call it Rock, call it Soul, but over here at Big Crown HQ, we've decided to call it BUCK.

Big Crown Records is proud to present the debut full length offering from Les Imprimés, Rêverie. The stirring and ethereal sounds of Les Imprimés have been making fans of anyone who hears them since their first 7" single hit the speakers. Morten Martens is the man behind the band. Born, raised, and working in Kristiansand, Norway, he keeps a low prole while making his heart felt, highly infectious, and unique music. This album is a long time coming for Martens and it is sure to make him a name to be reckoned with. The first thing you notice listening to Les Imprimés is the high level of musician-ship. Martens plays nearly every instrument on the recordings and handles the production and arranging. He has been making records for decades, winning a Spellemann Award (aka, the Norwegian Grammy) in 2006 for producing a HipHop album as well as getting nominations across three other genres. While awards and accolades speak to the level of his talent, this new album really shows who he is an artist on his own terms. Moving away from being a hired gun on the touring scene naturally led him to start doing more studio work. Slowly collecting gear and getting more experi-ence behind the boards he built his own studio on the island of Odderoya and was making a living playing with and recording other people's music. As the story goes, after those sessions would end he would work on his own project into the wee hours of the night. From these late night sessions, Les Imprimés was born and Rêverie began to take shape. However, "it wasn't until COVID, when things locked down, that I was really able to nd the time to focus on Les Imprimés" Morten says about creating and leading his own solo project. "It was a scary time. But I knew I had to do something with it." He took the sum of his inuences, combined them with his own vibe and got busy writing the music, playing the instruments, and singing the songs. "It's soul music, but I don't exactly have the soul voice," Morten explains humbly. "But I do it my own way, in a way that's mine. "It is his sound, his fingerprint, his sensibility, that makes his music hard to put in a box. The album showcases both Martens' range and his ability to make a cohesive album. The lead single "Falling Away" starts with a raw drum break and turns into a lushly arranged tune that paints the picture of love when it slips away. On "Still Here" he professes his resilience through life's twists and turns over a thundering track that puts a new spin on the B side ballad genre. Songs like "You" and "Our Love" mix tones from 60s and 70s Soul with arrangement nods to Doo Wop records while Martens' lyrics and delivery leave you singing the melodies long after they finish. "Love & Flowers" finds Martens in a moment of clarity with a song that ts the niche sub genre of happy break up tunes, the four on the floor track will move the dancefloor or while the message will resonate with anyone who put too much effort into the wrong situation in their lives. However, it is songs like "Muse" and "Chess" that really encapsulate the uniqueness of Les Imprimés as they push the boundaries of genre, one a profession of love for music and the other a cover of an electronic record respectively. Martens' lyrics, emotion, and delivery truly make the whole thing come together and stand out from any of his peers. There's an infectiousness and a pop sensibility in the writing that is done with the utmost class and taste giving Les Imprimés the rare quality of immediate attraction that only deepens the more you listen.

Mit "Hoarse" legten 16 Horsepower 2000 ein Live-Album der Extraklasse vor. Die elf Songs, aufgenommen 1998 in Denver und Paris, zeigen die Band auf der Höhe ihres Schaffens, mehr noch, die hier zu hörenden Versionen der Songs ihrer Studioklassiker "Low Estate" und "Sackloth"n"Ashes" sind nahe der Perfektion. Was für eine Kraft, was für eine Wucht! Von dem von David Eugene Edwards" Akkordeon dominierten Intro des Openers "American Wheeze" braucht es keine zwei Minuten, bis die Band die Hölle losbrechen lässt. 16 Horsepower waren anno 1998 eine Maschine, die alles niederwalzte - nicht brutal, aber immer gewaltig. Dabei blieben sie stets filigran, beherrschten auch die leisen Töne (man höre nur "Bad Moon Risin""!) in gleicher Souveränität wie das volle Brett. Neben dem CCR-Cover gibt es Gun Clubs "Fire Spirit" sowie ein fulminante Version von Joy Divisions "Day Of The Lords". Wer die Band jemals live erlebt hat, weiß um die Magie solcher Momente.

Die Compilation vereint ikonische Tracks aus Tarantinos gesamtem filmischen Werk: von Pulp Fiction über Kill Bill bis Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Mit dabei sind musikalische Größen wie Dick Dale, Johnny Cash, Joe Tex, The Coasters, The 5.6.7.8"s, Dee Clark, Keith Mansfield und viele mehr. Tarantino Sounds entführt in eine Welt aus Surf-Rock, Soul, Rockabilly und Retro-Vibes - genau wie Tarantino sie liebt und inszeniert.

Underground Hip Hop vets, Dillon & Paten Locke aroused appetites with their 2016 standout release, 'Food Chain', the follow-up to 2009's cult classic, 'Studies in Hunger' and prequel to 2025's 'Rations'. The flagship release of their fledgling label, FULL PLATE, 'Food Chain' opened many doors (and ears) for the Atlanta, GA /Jacksonville, FL based crew, setting the table for their sprawling catalog today.
Produced entirely by Paten Locke (the Boston-bred triple threat who cut his teeth with Mr. Lif, Akrobatik, Edan and his groups: Asamov + The Smile Rays), Food Chain's recipe starts with rugged chops of impossibly rare samples from Paten's world-renowned vinyl collection. Once that's simmering, just add Dillon's razor sharp rhymes; ranging from aggressively self-sure to deeply self-reflective, then finish with their signature seasoning - comedic relief! Food Chain also boasts an impressive list of guest features including Count Bass D, Homeboy Sandman, Supa Dave West, J-Live, Von Pea of Tanya Morgan, Phill Most Chill, Boog Brown, Malkovich, Tone Tank and their FULL PLATE FAM, Willie Evans Jr. Too many chefs? We say, 'Let 'em cook!!'
Now 10 years later this critically acclaimed album receives the treatment it deserves: a proper double LP pressing of the album in its entirety - including a lost bonus intro + bespoke poster insert. 2016's pressing was an abridged single LP that was missing songs, interludes & skits in order to fit the time limits of the format. With the 2xLP, you finally get to enjoy the full album, they way it was meant to be heard. What makes this 10th Anniversary reissue even heavier is that Paten Locke passed in 2019 and never got to see the full impact of his work, so this release doubles as a delicious celebration of Paten's lifelong creative pursuits & accomplishments.

Elevator Music is the collaborative album from Newport’s own Lord Sko and acclaimed producer Statik Selektah — a smooth, soul-heavy project rooted in classic East Coast hip-hop tradition. With Statik’s signature dusty drums and soulful sample chops setting the tone, Sko delivers sharp storytelling, effortless flows, and downtown NYC swagger across ten standout tracks.

The album features appearances from Dave East, B-Real, Smoke DZA, Ab-Soul, and more, adding extra depth to an already cohesive listen. From introspective cuts like “Better Days” to smoky late-night anthems like “Northern Lights,” Elevator Music captures the feeling of timeless New York rap with a fresh new perspective.

offerings is a new project from Bruno Silva (Ondness, Serpente) and Gonçalo F. Cardoso (Lagoss, Prophetas, Hannibal Chew III).

Born from a shared obsession with the peripheral—rain puddles, empty city spaces and the flickering crawl of late-night credits—the album occupies a stalled threshold; a space that refuses to resolve into a clear image. It does not strive for the "new" nor the "old"; it exists in a state of suspension, like end credits that refuse to roll, fixed in a permanent noumenal state.

Composed through a frantic exchange of files during the stormy winter of 2026, End Credits Noumena functions as a document of inner domestic spaces. It captures a floating, jam-like camaraderie between two artists with shared fixations and divergent sound palettes. The result is gritty and acetic — a series of random, eerie transmissions that remain strangely inviting. These are offerings, left over for whoever chooses to claim them.

Robag Wruhme is the solo alias of Gabor Schablitzki, a quietly singular voice in minimal and house music since the early 2000s. His sound is built on precision without ever feeling rigid. Instead of chasing big moments, he lets tracks unfold through subtle movement and carefully balanced tension, always evolving but never rushing.

That same approach runs through this EP. It's about letting momentum emerge naturally, allowing each element to settle into place while the energy continues to build.

Across four tracks, Robag creates a world where rhythm and atmosphere constantly shape one another. The arrangements are rich with detail, yet nothing competes for attention. Even in the densest passages, every sound feels deliberate.

OLAHNI opens patiently, with ghostly textures and hypnotic vocal fragments setting the tone before the bassline slowly comes into focus. The arrangement keeps evolving, with subtle details drifting in and out as the groove steadily deepens.
IFTHAH takes things into darker territory, driven by a heavy rolling bassline and a looping motif that never quite loosens its grip, adding weight without disrupting the flow.

On FUMAXOHN, the groove remains tight while the mood shifts. A warm harmonic layer gradually emerges as the vocals dissolve into texture, drawing the track towards something more melancholic.
PENTHO closes the EP in its most direct form. Stripped back and driving, it lands with quiet confidence, bringing the journey to a close while holding onto the hypnotic tension that defines the record.

It's been a pleasure bringing this EP together, and we're excited to finally share it with you. We hope these four tracks draw you into Robag's world as much as they have us.

Hatchback is the alias of Samuel Milton Grawe. Sam creates music that sings of the Cosmos, full of deep resonant tones, glistening arpeggios, lush pads and harmonic motifs. ‘Phaser For The Ocean, Chorus For The Moon’ is his magnum opus, a sprawling masterwork that encompasses ambient, new age and environmental music to wondrous effect. Soaked in Californian consciousness, the album is a balm like no other for these troubled times.

When I first was getting into the creative side of music making in my teens, I was heavily influenced by concept albums like ‘Quadrophenia’ and ‘The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway’, as well as epic pieces that took up an entire side of a record: Pink Floyd’s ‘Echoes’, Yes’ ‘Close To The Edge’, Klaus Schulze’s ‘Nowhere Now Here’, Miles Davis' ‘Shhh/Peaceful’ and ‘He Loved Him Madly’. In the extreme, these ideas coalesced in double albums where each side of each record is occupied by a single title - Yes’ ‘Tales From Topographic Oceans’, and Tangerine Dream’s ‘Zeit’ being primary examples. When I returned to making music after moving back to Northern California in 2020, the first piece I recorded landed around the 20-minute mark, and the idea of creating three other long pieces to realize a full album felt like a natural - if indulgent - goal. From there, each new piece followed sequentially. Four songs. My fourth album. - Sam Grawe

‘Phaser For The Ocean Chorus For The Moon’ is a pure expression, informed by a lifetime of deep listening unbound by algorithms or AI.
These are songs for the sunrise and the sunset - and every colour in between.

a 01. And The Walls Became The World All Around [18:53]
[b] 02. Phaser For The Ocean, Chorus For The Moon [21:48]
[c] 03. Other Desert Cities [20:19]
[d] 04. Friendship Fountain [18.33]

¡Hola amigos! ¡Dieciséis guarniciones de chile picante, peyote loco y tequila helado! ¡Hermoso!
If there's one thing I'm good at it's finding records. It doesn't matter where in the world I am, I find records, the best records, the rarest records. And always in Mint condition. I have a knack for it. One place I like to hunt for records is South of the Border, in Mexico. You can find great records there, way out in those pequeños pueblos del desierto. Another great thing you can find is cactus.
Mexico is famous for cactus. You got your Ariocarpus, your Turbinicarpus, your Mammillaria. You got cactus of all kinds, big and small. Little ones like Eplithelantha, psychedelic ones like the peyote Lophophora, and rare ones like Aztekium. But my favourite is Mammillaria humboldtii. Now this one is very hard to find. The villagers over in Hidalgo know where it is, and they go high up in the mountains to look for it.

Now these guys, they take their time. But when they come down from those mountains, they bring back the most beautiful specimens. I really mean it, they're beautiful. They're like clumps of fluffy white golf balls, and they have these cute little pink flowers. Beautiful I tell ya. I pay precio alto for a good specimen of Mammillaria humboldtii.

BOOH opens the record with a slow subterranean rumble before the machine locks in with full force. Welding Groove is a dense and relentless techno tool, built on a heavy low-end foundation and punctuated by sharp breaks that release tension only to snap back harder. A floor-ready opener that sets the tone for what follows.

Powder wastes no time. The groove hits from the first bar, driving forward with precision and urgency through a series of tightly chopped breaks before the bass reclaims the floor. Physical, direct, and built for the peak hours.

BOOH flips the record with Spectrum, the most patient track of the four. A long, layered intro slowly stacks elements one by one before the groove finally takes over and holds its ground without letting up. Wide and immersive, it carries the energy of a long set deep into the night.

Jackson Poliakov is the most unpredictable of the bunch. Opening with a wide, full-spectrum groove, it shifts midway into darker, more hypnotic territory before a final break brings everything back for the closing stretch. Two faces in one track, and the perfect way to close this chapter.

Michaela Turcerová’s compositions unfold in slow motion. The saxophonist and composer’s glacial music zeroes in on the granularities of each note as it rings, soaking in every subtle shift in texture and pitch.

Šumum exemplifies this patient approach to writing music, branching out from themes of loss and togetherness into an intricate tapestry of introspective sound. These four pieces invite deep collaboration between performers, who together shape the music through the shared process of listening and interpreting Turcerová’s relatively open scores. And while these works often grow from long, stretched-out tones, they also foreground forward direction: no note stays in one place, no melody is without action. Instead, Šumum chronicles how the tiniest shifts can lead to major transformation.

Šumum builds from Turcerová’s longheld interests in place and minimalism. Many of the composer’s works explore perception: how a room can shape the music we hear, and how repetition alters a melody. Like the music of Éliane Radigue, Šumum embraces the rainbow of colors that appear when close listening with the wave-like flow of looped melodic and rhythmic patterns. All the album’s pieces observe the subtle changes that happen as music grows.

Group communication yields the constant evolution that defines Šumum. The album feels like a conversation, with each instrumentalist swapping phrases or trading places when the moment feels right. “Straty” builds from a series of strongly accented drones that appear as quickly as they fade away; underneath them is a perpetual rhythm that drives the color of each long held note, from melancholy into radiance and back again. With “Vlny,” pitch eventually disappears, leaving a delicate rhythm, and with “Masy,” a matrix of brassy tones link together and eventually burst. No matter where the music goes, one thing remains true: Šumum invites close listening, and in the process, reveals the beauty of continual motion.

After the wild Afro-jazz fusion of Trancedance (reissued as BT118) and the meditative solo Christer Bothén Donso n’goni (BT133), legendary Swedish multi-instrumentalist Christer Bothén returns to Black Truffle as part of a dream quartet completed by the three members of Ghosted: Oren Ambarchi (guitar), Johan Berthling (bass) and Andreas Werliin (drums). Recorded at a rustic studio built by Werliin and Hans Fredriksson in the sylvan surrounds of Hamburgsund, Sweden across a few days in September 2023, Serpentine offers up four generous slices of hypnotic repetition and shimmering resonance, cut through with wild bursts of Bothén’s bass clarinet.

The depth and ease of the quartet’s rapport is evident from the first moments of the opening title-track. Berthling’s resonant upright bass locks into a head-nodding ostinato that makes sensitive use of a prominent end-of-phrase rest, opening spaces through which Werliin’s continually shifting statements of the pulse shine through. Having worked together in various groups for many years, Berthling and Werliin are masters at playing subtle games of difference and repetition, creating a driving rhythmic flow animated by perpetually changing details: here, you can never step in the same groove twice. Weaving through it all is Ambarchi’s now-signature Leslie-cabinet guitar tone, sounding out long chords at times strikingly close to a Hammond, while also creating intricate cross-rhythms through the play of his tremolo modulations against the bass and drums. When Bothén enters five minutes in, the growl of his bass clarinet at first works deep in the collective brew, carving off brief staccato phrases and twisting them into fragmented melodies. As he moves into the instrument’s higher registers, Bothén’s playing becomes wilder, twinning with Ambarchi’s guitar in shimmering arcs like a 21st century update of the Garbarek-Rypdal pairing immortalised on Sart.

Each of the four pieces explore different possibilities of a shared language. On ‘Antigorite’, another hypnotic bass riff emerges gradually from an atmospheric haze, eventually developing into a frenetic rhythmic workout propelled by Werliin’s cowbell. Berthling sits out for ‘Lizardite’, while Bothén moves from bass clarinet to the Donso n’goni, the sacred Wassoulou hunter’s harp he has studied for half a century; the resulting performance streamlines the approach heard on other tracks into pure modal propulsion, sparkling with harp-like arpeggios from Ambarchi’s guitar. On the closing ‘Chrysotile’, the bottom drops out, leaving a swampy, churning mass of wavering organ-like chords, roaming bass runs, and distant toms, over which Bothén floats bass clarinet figures by turns bluesy and abstract, the whole thing landing somewhere between classic ECM and the most blasted freeform moments of early Amon Düül II. Bearing a delicate calligraphic abstraction by Bothén on its cover and beautiful documentation of the recording sessions on its inner sleeve, Serpentine is a powerful reminder of the magic that can happen when inventive musicians just get together and play.

Sometimes an album title arrives like a voice from across time. For Johanna Samuels, Sorry, Kid began as a message to her younger self, part apology and part recognition. Gathering songs written as far back as 2007 alongside newer work, the album bridges nearly two decades of lived experience.

The record holds 70s tones without leaning on them, drawing from a lineage of melody and restraint while staying fully alive in its own time. It feels lived in, steady, and quietly powerful, like something finally understood without needing to be explained. The result is intimate and fully realized, songs that began as questions now settling into something like resolution.