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Crash is a debut EP of Abel Dalum, aka KennyKrazyWorld. Often appearing on tracklists of many, now breaking through with his highly anticipated 4 piece solo, no-remix EP. Across four movements, KennyKrazyWorld sketches a system in flux: fragments of noise, texture, and space dissolving into one another. As he likes to say himself, "its all about the percussions".

Petrichor opens with the residue of a storm — metallic air, wet circuitry, the pulse of machines breathing beneath the rain and a broken up kick. Like a scene from Blade Runner or a concert hall opening somewhere deep in the megalopolis. The 10-minute track is there to pull in and not let go. Dust follows, bone-dry and disintegrating, rhythm shedding its structure until only motion remains, hooking the listener to lose himself in its enchanting wormhole of evolving percussions and atmospheres.

At its core, the 3rd "backbone" track of the same-named EP, Crash, is already breaking apart: percussive tension folding in on itself, and a memorable voice over to seal the deal. Divergent closes the loop — but doesn't leave the listener with breadcrumbs, rather with a feeling like a party in full effect being closed at 3AM due to some scumbag cops…
Crash is techno as erosion, but also a study of groove and flow — repetition worn into form, emotion distilled through pressure.

Jeffrey Alexander and the Heavy Lidders return with their best album yet, and a UK tour this August. Press by Silver PR
‘’On the alternate timeline where the Meat Puppets inherited the bulk of the Grateful Dead’s tourheads when Jerry Garcia died in 1995, none of this would be necessary, because Jeffrey Alexander and the Heavy Lidders are a household name for evolving their own musical space that overlays dusty folk, cosmic jazz, deep psych, free improv, and even (gasp!) indie rock, building an audience that ranges from open-eared curiosity seekers to deep committed music weirdos that’s also yielded the Heavy Lidders, an infamous sub-cult of concert tapers that you’re already sick of hearing about. A lot of other things are better over on that timeline, too.
But in this consensus reality (and probably the other one, too), Liquid Donnon catches the Lidders at their heaviest, “heavy” in the Lidderverse being far from a monolithic musical idea. There’s heavy like the album-opening “From Loch Raven to Fells Point,” one of several tracks with elegant and gnarled conversational jams featuring the core Lidders lineup of Alexander alongside guitarist Drew Gardner and bassist Jesse Sheppard (both of Elkhorn) and drummer Scott Verrastro. But there’s heavy, too, like “Calliope Walker” and “Tightroping,” featuring Gardner shifted to dream-space vibraphone, the former with saxophonist Tacuma Bradley, the latter with Christina Carter of Texas noise-psych legends Charalambides on veil-crossing wordless vocals, her first collaboration with Alexander in some 20 years.
But then there’s also heavy like the cover photo of Alexander’s late friend and album namesake Donnon, taken at a Dead show at Rich Stadium in Buffalo in 1989, a spirit threading through the songs and weaving unexpectedly into Alexander’s life decades later, emerging especially when Alexander passed through a near-death experience of his own. But, taken together, the different heavies of Liquid Donnon add up into a state of musical grace, where all the Heavy Lidders from all the universes come together as one. Just, like, imagine.
Convened in 2019 on Alexander’s relocation back to his native east coast, the Heavy Lidders are the latest hard-touring expression for the guitarist’s music, joining a vast and tangled discography (and tape list) that includes the beloved long-running west coast Dire Wolves Just Exactly Perfect Sisters Band and, before them, the Iditarod and Black Forest/Black Sea, as well as a bushel of solo play-all-the-instruments projects, a stint with Jackie-O Motherfucker, sessions with Kemialliset Ystävät and Avarus and others, and you’ll have to keep digging for the rest.
And while it’s not hard to find tapers at Lidders gigs (and they encourage you to be one), or to track themes and songs over Alexander’s many live releases, Liquid Donnon makes a new primary text, the original versions of six new pieces for the repertoire. The album closes with a devastating pairing of “Reservoir Drop” into “The Summer Song,” floating into a duo between Alexander’s guitar and Carter’s voice. Catch a half-dozen Lidders shows this summer, and you might not ever catch them playing it like that again, but you just might open the doorway back to that better place." - Jesse Jarnow (writer, WFMU DJ, producer and host of The Good Ol’ Grateful Deadcast)

Tom Gillieron’s It’s Alright arrives on Studio Barnhus in triplicate: one original, two remixes, no weak links. A UK producer with a fierce command of high-pressure club dynamics, leads with a version that comes big, busy and blazing, brimming with glorious noise, swift movement and late-night intent.
Afriqua brings his trademark musicality to the second version, turning the lights up enough to let some melody through, adding bounce, swing and a touch of house warmth, never loosening the grip.
Bona fide UK underground originators Horsepower Productions lower the ceiling again, rebuilding the track for the darkest of basement clubs in the form of a low-slung bruiser with broken edges and proper bass weight.

On her second album, Sawt El Doumouh (The Sound of Tears), Beirut-based Sandy Chamoun summons flickers of light from sadness. Influences from the Arabic tradition of Tarab – one of the first styles Chamoun learnt to sing – and polyphonic Cantu are reinterpreted and reimagined through her voice and electronics, synths from her SANAM and Ghadr bandmate Anthony Sayhoun, and live percussion from Ali Hout.
Marked by its times, the record isn’t what Chamoun had planned. “I wrote the lyrics between October 2023 and September 2025,” she explains. “The plan was to write about nature, since the album’s concept was inspired by Cantu, a tenor Sardinian ritual that celebrates humanity’s victory over nature. I intended to visit several places and regions in Lebanon and write a track for each, but after the genocide and the war in Lebanon, everything changed.”
“I chose the title because many mornings during this period I woke up crying silently. I remember a dark story from school: a teacher yelled at a small boy while he was crying and told him to cry without making any sound. I feel we are still living in that condition in the region — forced to die or suffer without making any noise.”
Sawt El Doumouh is a gorgeous refusal to be silent. It opens with a booming drum. Over keening autotune Chamoun’s pure voice cuts through, burying the despair to illuminate rays of hope. On “Ward W Shok” a shuffling swing gives way to a righteous organ interlude. The title track sees a choir of Chamoun’s vocals lull and lap. Drums arrive and indignation stirs, what’s mournful begins to stride.
Chamoun’s tracks are as beautiful as they are defiant. Why write songs in the face of horror? Perhaps because music can hold onto something better. By turning to song, Chamoun catches the hopeful glints and sparks that persist and strive outside the terror. In SANAM and Ghadr she often borrows lyrics from Arabic writers through the centuries, listening to what their words say in the present while reminding us the world can and has been different to how it is now. Solo she writes her own words, and the way her songs alternately soar and sigh evokes hopeful pluralities and suggestions of other, kinder realities. Even hearing someone cry is a connection to humanity.
It’s a possibility conveyed in the album’s most jubilant moments. “Shahed” is an incandescent dance of percussion and levitating synths. “I wrote it after I saw a photo of a small boy on a horse on the beach in Gaza,” Chamoun recalls. “I imagined a fantasy where the boy lives in the water and watches the terrifying reality on the shore, trying to bring water to put out the fire. Shahed is the witness who lives far from the shore, enjoying the water and trying to help. You can hear this duality: the percussion is desert-like, while the vocals and synths evoke the feeling of water.”
Although it comes from darkness, in Chamoun’s music we can hear faith in something beyond it.

Orange Vinyl 2LP

Farbige Neuauflage des dritten Albums "Revengeseekerz" (2025) der äusserst produktiven und genreübergreifenden Musikerin Jane Remover featuring Danny Brown ("Psychoboost"). Die unbespielte Seite D enthält den Aufdruck REV. Die in New Jersey aufgewachsene und in Chicago lebende Künstlerin vermengt Hyperpop, Dubstep, Noise, Hip-Hop und Alternative zu einem exzessiven Amalgam, das nicht nur die Kritiker begeistert. "Die experimentelle Künstlerin macht im Vergleich zu ihrem vorherigen Album eine komplette Kehrtwende und entfesselt ein Inferno aus rohen Gedanken, das alles – Rap, Pop, Stimme, ihre künstlerische Persönlichkeit – bis zum Zerreissen treibt." - Pitchfork

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'.

Shaped from fragile, emotionally charged piano motifs that distort, disappear and transform into dense, cinematic textures, 'CANALS' is a debut that's finely matured, the result of years of friendship and growth. Italian artist Vanja Sturno and Montréal-based Belgian-Spanish composer Pablo Geeraert (aka Sanea Ima) have worked together extensively on various projects up until now, but 'CANALS' is their first official release as a duo. Having both studied music academically, the pair were eager to work more intuitively, so applied their well-honed set of skills to sound that, instead of fitting into a conceptual box, reflected more personal experiences.

Back in 2023, Geeraert travelled to Rome to support his friend at a difficult time and, during the trip, received some bad news of his own. The complicated feelings unconsciously surged through a series of delicate Ryuichi Sakamoto-inspired piano improvisations and a new project began to coalesce. They didn't realize it at the time, but once the record was finished, Sturno and Geeraert began to understand that the entire process had been a form a joint catharsis - a release of pressure. They were able to function so effortlessly and swiftly because they had already provided the space for each other to resonate emotionally and the music flowed from that point.

So the album's title, while remaining ambiguous, suggests its formation: a sequence of eight interconnected channels that feed a creative whole. On the first segment, Sturno and Geeraert's initial recordings can be perceived most nakedly, the melancholy, Satie-like phrases floating peacefully for a moment before the tranquility is agitated by stormy distortions and swelled into thick waves of harmony. The piano provides the record with its emotional anchor, offering focus and clarity as multi-dimensional noise wells up around it before inevitably dissipating, leaving gentle, unadorned sounds once again.

And the familiar instrument is reshaped into a wheezing artificial organ on the animated 'CANALS III', punctuated by percussive, tape-warped pitch fluctuations that seem to bite into its very essence. Gauzy acoustic granulations snowball into a powerful, bass-heavy crescendo on the fourth part, setting the tenor for the album's second half. But after the crushing 'CANALS VI', possibly Sturno and Geeraert's heaviest track, a brief tremolo-heavy vignette that ripples through experimental rock and ambient music's braided history, the duo clear the air with a jazzy diversion, introducing soft woodwind blasts as a palate cleanser before an epic, widescreen finale.

It's an album that's best absorbed as a whole, a vortex of ritualistic, rhythmic repetitions that Sturno and Geeraert appropriately refer to as "spiral listening".

Persistence of Sound releases a new work by Brunhild Ferrari called »L’oreille Voleuse« (The Thieving Ear). The LP features an extraordinary live reinterpretation by Eiko Ishibashi and Jim O’Rourke, recorded in October 2025 in Paris.

»No, without listening at doors, the ear captures noises here and there and unexpected sounds without choice, but remains attentive to the messages of each one picked up over the years. It gathers surprises and impressions, bringing them together in a simple mix. In waking up these ear memories again, which were mostly recorded on magnetic tapes, I am very happy about the collaboration of Eiko Ishibashi and Jim O'Rourke in playing on this mix tape.« Brunhild Ferrari

Eiko Ishibashi is a Japanese composer, singer, and multi-instrumentalist who has developed a unique body of work blending experimental pop, improvisation, and film music. Her work, praised for its expressive intensity and sensitivity to sonic textures, has led her to collaborate with numerous musicians on the international scene, including Jim O'Rourke, with whom she forms a long-standing duo. She is also the composer of several film scores, notably for the films of Ryusuke Hamaguchi (Drive My Car, Evil Does Not Exist), which have helped to bring her work to a wider audience beyond experimental music circles.

Jim O'Rourke is an American composer, producer, and multi-instrumentalist, and has been a major figure in experimental and independent music since the 1990s. His work spans rock, improvised music, electronic music, and contemporary music. A former member of Sonic Youth and a collaborator with Wilco, Gastr del Sol, and Merce Cunningham, he has released numerous solo albums and film scores. Based in Japan since the early 2000s, he continues to pursue a rich and multifaceted musical practice, where formal rigor and freedom of invention coexist.

Persistence of Sound was founded in 2019 by Iain Chambers (Langham Research Centre, Rubbish Music). The label explores the world of electroacoustic music, contemporary global field recordings, and the unclassifiable music spanning these genres.

“One of Berghain’s longest-serving residents, Luke Slater has been defining bleepy, polyrhythmic, industrial-strength techno as Planetary Assault Systems since the mid-nineties. P.A.S albums tend to come together in their own time:

“External signals and signs combine until the recipe feels right, both musically and from being ‘out there’,” Slater adds. “10 years since I released Arc Angel on Ostgut Ton, and it’s a fitting pleasure to combine live show ideas and studio work for the new album, served up with raw energy” That patience runs through his whole Ostgut catalogue; since Temporary Suspension brought its machine-tooled weight and alien feeling to the label in 2009, each P.A.S. release on Ostgut Ton has been its own quest for discovery, from The Messenger’s search for sounds not yet present in club music to Arc Angel’s focus on melody to the deep hypnosis of Plantae.

His new album, Planetary People has the deliberate imagination and depth of a record that took its time, shaped as much by live rooms and crowds as by the studio.

“Into The Night” creates a haunting, dystopic environment of corroded acid saturated in echo, absorbing from the first second. “Labyrinth” breaks into buoyant tribal percussion, modulated chirps trading off over propulsive drums. “Quadrant 10” is clean, delay-drenched techno, buzzing with noise splatters over saturated thuds. “Sermon Of The Light Tides” scrambles metallic bell sequences that distort and evolve throughout, reminiscent of a dial-up modem crossed with a game of Frogger, squelching between percussive bursts and stripped-back kicks. “Brave Cosmo” is tormentingly menacing, eerie synths panning around buried vocal fragments over frantic percussion. “Retina Burn” rolls on fierce, cement-mixer 909 cycles, rave stabs over a ride that locks you in, the whole track stuttering and repeating before stripping back to a bare echoing kick and building itself again. “Thunder Major” barrels on open hats and reverb-drenched claps ricocheting through twisting wreaths of delay, mesmeric and relentless. “Beton Brut” marches juggernaut percussion stamping through hall reverb so vast you can visualise the room, the darkest and most unrelenting track on the record. “No Ninja” crunches in metallic and immediate, a wiry plucked lead threading through glitch with the bass held low and deep, mixed so precisely you can see every layer stacked in your mind’s eye. “Ha Jam” is danceable techno with plenty of funk and a sophisticated looseness, a vocal laugh bouncing off clanging metal blocks and rave stabs. “Lynx” lowpasses its rave stabs and crystalline beeps, chirpy hats ticking, cold metal repeats, old school and mesmeric. “Generation Slip” closes everything out, ominous and churning, skittering percussion and electrical sparks rattling through steel, a freight train barrelling on into oblivion.

Irish drone-doom-folk act One Leg One Eye, the project of founding Lankum member Ian Lynch and veteran noise monger George Brennan, announce their new album, CRONE, out on 1 May on AD 93.

Today the group share the first track on the album, ‘Many are my Names Besides’, on which they are joined by the elemental force that is legendary actor, performer, writer and director Olwen Fouéré (Operating Theatre) contributing vocals.

Olwen Fouéré comments:

“When Ian and George first approached me to work with them, they were already creating the Crone album as a sonic invocation of the ‘sovereignty goddess’, who personifies the land and the legitimacy to rule it, in her darkest and most terrifying form. As we spoke, the triple goddess figure of the Morrigan entered my mind, reinforced by a marked presence of crows every time we met. The Morrigan is essentially a war goddess, frequently appearing as a crow in a battlefield, a death prophet, a guardian of sovereignty, and a very powerful figure in Irish Mythology.

So I invoked her energy as a starting point, using text extracts that Ian sent me from the Ulster Cycle and other sources. The voice recording was done in one day, improvising the source material while the already composed music occupied my psyche through headphones.

Listening back, at this time in our world, I can only wonder at how much blood and war the Crone/ Crow of sovereignty is preparing to unleash now. Watch out.”

CRONE is the second album from Lynch and Brennan, following on from 2022’s slowburn slab of ambient grit, …And Take The Black Worm With Me. Bewildering, psychedelic and ultimately transcendental, the four tracks of One Leg One Eye’s CRONE shapeshift and morph endlessly in a coarse miasma. Traditional song structures and vocal melody are eschewed, instead the trio directly channel energies from the rich seams of mythological significance submerged below the Irish psyche. The anger, rage and beauty of the sovereignty goddess burn a consistent and deliberate line through the album in the form of obscure incantations and dire pronouncements, the gnarled sinews that bind it all together.

Just as the subject matter of the tracks delve deeper into Irish myth and the remote past, the temporal reality of the album reaches back into the bands prehistory, with the majority of it the material being recorded by Lynch and Brennan in 2021 before One Leg One Eye was conceived of as an entity with Brennan working on the CRONE project while Lynch worked on …And Take The Black Worm With Me.

When they were there they saw a lone woman coming to the door of the Hostel, after sunset, and seeking to be let in. As long as a weaver’s beam was each of her two shins, and they were as dark as the back of a stag-beetle. A greyish, wooly mantle she wore. Her lower hair used to reach as far as her knee. Her lips were on one side of her head.

She came and put one of her shoulders against the door-post of the house, casting the evil eye on the king and the youths who surrounded him in the Hostel. He himself addressed her from within.

"Well, O woman," says Conaire, "if thou art a wizard, what seest thou for us?"

"Truly I see for thee," she answers, "that neither fell nor flesh of thine shall escape from the place into which thou hast come, save what birds will bear away in their claws."

"It was not an evil omen we foreboded, O woman," saith he: "it is not thou that always augurs for us. What is thy name, O woman?"

"Calib," she answers.

"That is not much of a name," says Conaire.

"Lo, many are my names besides."

"Which be they?" asks Conaire.

"Easy to say," quoth she. "Samon, Sinand, Seisclend, Sodb, Caill, Coll, Díchóem, Dichiúil, Díthím, Díchuimne, Dichruidne, Dairne, Dáríne, Déruaine, Egem, Agam, Ethamne, Gním, Cluiche, Cethardam, Níth, Némain, Nóennen, Badb, Blosc, Bloár, Huae, óe Aife la Sruth, Mache, Médé, Mod."

On one foot, and holding up one hand, and breathing one breath she sang all that to them from the door of the house.

Show The World What’s Underneath is Super Sometimes staking their flag as a new torchbearer of modern pop-punk. Built with the same sharp instincts that fueled their viral breakout “Spork,” the album blends infectious melodies, emotional honesty, and a fresh perspective on a genre they grew up loving. There’s something here for longtime pop-punk fans and for listeners searching for a new entry point into the scene. Produced by Zach Tuch, who became an essential creative force throughout the process, the record balances edge and experimentation while making every hook, lyric, and moment count. Written and recorded while still in their teens and early twenties, Show The World What’s Underneath is both a love letter to the bands that inspired them and a clear statement of where Super Sometimes is headed next.

Sem is the first album by Victor Negri under his own name, after a decade making music as Arubu Avua. Released via Stray Signals (Berlin) in partnership with Mutum (Portugal/Brazil), the album was composed between late 2023 and early 2025 during a prolonged period of compounded grief and relocation, and is built upon layers of guitar in irregular loops, alongside samples, experimental electronics, and field recordings.

Begun in Lisbon and finished in Campinas, Brazil, Sem (meaning “without”) deals with loss by juxtaposing new material with unfinished recordings from previous years. As the process unfolded, catharsis emerged as much through editing as through raw expression. The album became a symbolic attempt to glue together fragments and memories from a world that ceased to exist, in order to move forward.

Across its eight tracks, some pieces gradually unfold while others crumble or explode into distortion and feedback, while some seem almost suspended, as if unsure of the next steps. There is a loose trajectory from disorientation and collapse (“Voçoroca”) through astonished frustration (“Não”) and numb acceptance (“Obrigado”), toward a fragile optimism on the closing tracks “Os cacos” and “Boa continuação.” Negri’s first fully instrumental album, Sem contains no vocals at all. That absence emerged gradually after fruitless attempts at songwriting during the period; overwhelm and speechlessness ultimately prevailed. The result leaves room for ambiguity, wandering, and the unfamiliar.

Victor Negri is a Brazilian musician and songwriter. Previously known as Arubu Avua, he makes music framed by noise, feedback, irregular loops, and field recordings.

Genre Is Death is an uncompromising noise duo made up of Ty V (guitar, vox) and Tayler Lee (bass, vox). Their sound is abrasive yet melodic, using heavy distortion, dissonant riffs, and reverberating vocals to create a wave of boldly hypnotic noise. The duo have been compared to the likes of Sonic Youth and Teenage Jesus and the Jerks, yet have managed to create a sound that is distinctly their own, avoiding mimicking the zeitgeist of decades before. Beyond the integrity of their music, Tayler’s intimidating glare, or Ty’s staggering gait, the duo share something truly inimitable— the overwhelming feeling that their music is a byproduct of the high esteem they hold of each other. The duo moved to NYC in August of 2023 looking for something more than their mundane suburban lifestyle of day drinking and playing doom metal in friends' basements…their move to NYC coupled with their desire to express something, anything, led to the inception of Genre is Death. The pair hit the ground running, playing anywhere and everywhere they could… however, it was only after a chance encounter with 80s noise forerunners Live Skull that the pair was introduced to the strange underbelly of NYC noise and began playing regular gigs with The Art Gray Noizz Quintet and Lydia Lunch. In 2025 the pair played New Colossus Festival, toured with Gogol Bordello, embarked on their first East Coast tour, and played gigs with Cherubs, Bush Tetras, and Jon Spencer. Their upcoming record was recorded with legendary sound engineer Martin Bisi (Sonic Youth, Swans).

Budapest-based concept label, Blue Sun is launching their new line of vinyl focused releases, aimed primarily on DJs and collectors: the Blue Series. A counterpart to the Orange Series launched last year that showcases a more upbeat side of the label, the new collection presents a darker, more experimental, and introspective musical vision.

The first release in the Blue Series is a six-track EP by Budapest based multimedia artist, Virág Réti. Choosing her legal name as her artist persona (“Flower of the Meadow" in Hungarian) also with the track titles capturing the folk names of local fauna, Peremidő evokes the artist's innate connection to nature as a place of refuge from the noise of Eastern European urban life.

The EP’s motifs point back to early memories of sitting by a river, simply observing time flowing by. The arc of the songs follow the passage of a day, beginning with the hesitant sounds of early morning, gradually moving on toward more defined, rhythm-driven forms. As the airy textures slowly give way to structure and percussion comes to the forefront, the sense of direction becomes clearer, letting moments of gentle disorder and unexpected sounds to surface.

Virág previously appeared on the label’s Blue Sun VA II compilation with her track Bíbic. Since launching her ambient music project in the fall of 2024, she has become one of the promising newcomers in the Hungarian experimental electronic music scene. Her debut EP, Minden Ami Megmaradt (All That Remains), was released last November as the final offering of temporary nites label (2023–2025). She is also the founder and organizer of the Budapest-based experimental electronic event series Still Places.

With multiple bass players (at one point eight of them) and an array of rubber masks that give both children and adults sleepless nights, somehow, against all the odds, Evil Blizzard are set to release their fifth studio album of nightmare inducing noise and visuals. Titled, the new album sees Evil Blizzard pushing the boundaries further afield from their early sound of 'multiple bass psych', seeing elements of dub, krautrock and goth to provide a much more Post Punk vibe than previous work. Reference points were 'Metal Box', 'Ritual De Lo Habitual', Can and Discharge (whose singer JJ joins the band on the track 'Wake The Dead In Bedlam') as well as the omnipresent Hawkwind, Stooges and Sabbath vibes. By far the band's most stylistically varied and challenging album and yet their most cohesive body of work since their critically acclaimed second album 'Everybody Come To Church'. As well as their trademark 'multi bass onslaught', this album sees sequencing, sampling and even the use of string instruments made from bone.

Recorded between September and November 2025 at Rock Hard Studios, Blackpool, improvised sessions were edited down into more 'song' structures, then reworked into the final pieces. "Recording this was the hardest work we've done," claims Filthydirty. "Previously, we'd just turn up, turn up louder, press record and sieve through the debris and call it 'an album'. On this album we only had two, maybe three tracks that were finished when we went in, and the rest were worked out in reverse; ploughing through improvisations and jams and seeing what actually had any bones or gristle to work with. “Consequently, we had the time and focus to reappraise what we'd done in the past, highlight what we'd done right and realise where perhaps self-indulgence or lack of focus were overlooked instead of time or budget restraints, he continues. “The result is an album that reflects all our record collections. Lyrically it's been impossible to not absorb the chaos and anger transmitting on every news channel recently, and while we'd never write specifically about a certain issue or matter, the shitshow that is the 2020's definitely made its mark or our thinking.

A century-old grand piano, a secluded house surrounded by the greenery of Brittany, no internet connection, and a reel-to-reel recorder.L'Écho de Bretagne, the new EP by Niklas Paschburg, set for release from fall 2025 via Nettwerk Music Group, is a solo piano record as essential as it is intense. An album made of silences, space, slowness. A music that doesn't chase impact, but truth.

the album release is march 26th - 2026.

If his previous work, Mexican Alps (2025), marked the first time the German composer and producer created an ambient-electronic album without his instrument of choice, the piano, L'Écho de Bretagne emerges as a direct response to that absence. "It was exactly the lack of piano that brought about the need for this new record, which instead puts that instrument, so vital to me, at the very center, stripping everything else away," Niklas explains.

Born in 1994, Paschburg has shaped over the years a musical path deeply connected to travel, nature, and introspection. From his debutTuur Mang Welten(2016) toOceanic(2018),Svalbard(2020),Panta Rhei(2023), and the aforementionedMexican Alps— alongside soundtracks, remixes, and collaborations with artists like RY X, Hania Rani, Ásgeir, and Bryan Senti — his sound bridges neoclassical, electronic, ambient, and pop-driven composition.

WithL'Écho de Bretagne, the Hamburg-born, Berlin-based musician continues his exploration by seeking solitude in nature, much like he did onSvalbard, but this time with an even more radical choice: disconnecting completely from the internet, and switching off both computer and smartphone for a while, in order to fully immerse himself in his new music. "I rented an old cottage in Paimpol, Brittany, where I knew there was a grand piano," he recounts. "When I got there, I discovered that not only was the piano more than a hundred years old, but it was also of an unknown brand, never restored, and quite difficult to play. But that gave it a unique character, and I didn't give up. Sure, it was an instrument left to its own fate, I couldn't play anything too fast. But how fascinating was that? I'm convinced that setting limits, instead of giving yourself total freedom when composing, can become an extraordinary source of inspiration."

As for the decision to temporarily detach from a life that demands we stay constantly connected, Niklas describes it as both a creative and human experiment. "I had my laptop and phone with me, just in case, but I kept them turned off. That choice made me wantL'Écho de Bretagneto be a fully analog work, even in how it was recorded." A way of clearing the mind. "I don't think I've ever been as calm as I was during those days in Paimpol. Even though I was working on a very specific project and didn't have much time, that period was more relaxing than any vacation."

Not that it was free of hiccups. "I'd borrowed a reel-to-reel recorder small enough to travel with me, but after recording a session on the piano, I realized it wasn't working properly, the sound was distorted, full of crackles. I got worried, because I wasn't near any big city where I could find a technician. Luckily, I figured out the problem was the old tape reels I had brought along. That was the only time I had to go online, to order new ones. But it was just for a moment. I shut everything off again right after." At that point, Niklas was waiting for the new tapes to arrive. He found out, completely by chance, from a local UPS courier that they had been delivered to a nearby village. "Since my phone was off, I couldn't track the shipment. So one day I asked this delivery guy, who didn't know anything about it. But from that point on, we'd see each other daily and talk… That's what being disconnected also means: reconnecting with people around you, even strangers. It was thanks to that courier that I found out where the tapes had ended up. And he even helped me get them back, writing directions for me on a scrap of paper."

But there's another element that makes this new EP unique.L'Écho de Bretagnewas recorded entirely live; its tracks are all improvised, complete with their imperfections. This approach leads to a sound that is pure, profoundly organic, and deeply authentic, intentionally preserved to give the listener the feeling of a live performance happening in their own living room. The touch of fingers on the keys, the breath of the wood, the tension of the vibrating string, all become part of the music. There is no construction, only expression. "Even now, when I listen back to it, I feel that moment I gave myself to step away from everything: from reality, from words, from noise." The result is a collection of suspended melodies and atmospheres, reflecting a state of the soul. A refuge from the rush of time. A pause from the world.

2026 Repress in generic white sleeve!

It's been quite a wait for new &ME material here on Keinemusik. But these two new cuts, adding to our catalogue number KM046, sure have been worth waiting for. The EP starts with „The Rapture Pt.II“ and as the title already suggests, it coherently takes up where his last original material had left us, in a stirred state of sweet, harmony-kissed affection. Known as a virtuoso of sound-details, &ME lives up to that reputation, implementing fine synth-elements and temperately rattling percussions, all conjoined by shimmering layers and, of course, an ultimately heart-melting Piano improvisation that at some point will play along to the rhythm of its synthetic brother to a finale that will leave no crowd untouched.

"Solaris" on the flipside adds indeed a futuristic note to the arrangement, opening up with a broken beat and propelling claps. A cut that, as much as its predecessor, is relying on flow and organic shifts rather than forced and peaktime formatted gimmickry, adding a synth arpeggio, white noise, vocal chants and
harmonies in a rather subtle way. Nevertheless, it unfolds a compelling strength to heat the dancefloor gradually through its playtime.

After making their mark as a hugely successful band with a #1-charting album - 2023’s Blackout, From Ashes To New are set to release their highly anticipated follow-up, Reflections. The band returns with their high-energy fusion of rap, nu metal, electronic, and alternative rock. Reflections has 12 tracks and will be available Digital, CD and different colored vinyl variants.

Longtime friend of the label Eraserhead returns after over a decade away from producing music due to his surreal MS Paint work as 'Jim'll Paint It' becoming an unexpected cultural phenomenon. With his debut full-length, 'Violence', Eraserhead presents a truly eclectic electronic LP featuring collaborations with established producers such as Om Unit, Enduser, and Brain Rays, as well as the vocal talents of Nadia Rose, Beans (of Antipop Consortium), and Cadence Weapon. An album held together by theme and tone rather than style or tempo, 'Violence' is the culmination of a bitter wave of inspiration, initially conceived in the wake of a personal tragedy that quickly grew into a broader polemic about the state of the world.

Originally linking up with Love Love in its breakcore netlabel infancy with his refined, breaks-heavy breakcore/gabba, Eraserhead's flair for tight, intricate productions was evident in his finely tuned tracks of controlled chaos. This time around, his work is a darker, more expansive evolution of his sound, with the scale upsized and the stylistic scope massively broadened, remaining unfaithful to any single genre, but with firm nods to Breakcore, Grime, Drum & Bass, Techno, Rave, Dubstep, and Footwork, all chewed up with a hard industrial edge and cinematically framed by a backdrop of apocalyptic synths.

Opening with the cold tech-noir of 'Shining Brainless Beacon' to set the tone, the album quickly locks in with the blistering spoken-word headrush of 'Hurricane With Teeth' alongside rapper Beans, before Om Unit lends his expertise on the sharp groove and clinical bass blasts of 'Operation Hardtack'. The album shifts and morphs constantly throughout the runtime, moving from the raw and urgent acid techno of 'Crowd Control' to the crunching military march of the Gore Tech collaboration 'No More Worlds' and the tribal sci-fi footwork of the Brain Rays collaboration 'Night Visions'. 'Monolith' provides a final burst of catharsis, channelling Underworld by way of Nine Inch Nails, complete with writhing screams from Amée Chanter of sludge-punk-noise-rock duo Human Leather, before the heart of the album is laid bare with the painfully bleak closing dirge of 'Animal'. In its final moments, 'Violence' leaves the listener suspended between devastation and awe - an unflinching portrait of an uncaring world.

The history of house and disco music is full of gospel soul singers creating anthemic bangers for the dance floor. Annie and the Caldwells, a family band from West Point, Mississippi, are the latest to join their ranks.

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This collection — featuring remixes from musclecars, Kornél Kovács, Alexis Taylor (of Hot Chip), and disco icons Nicky Siano and Justin Strauss — follows the release of the Caldwells’ wildly acclaimed debut Can’t Lose My (Soul) Luaka Bop, Spring 2025. Hailed as “a masterpiece” by The Guardian (★★★★★), and one of the best albums of the year by The Times, MOJO, UNCUT, and The Economist, Can’t Lose My (Soul) found fans all over the world — like Sir Elton John, who called their album “A great, great record that I insist you go out and buy.”

“I was blown away when I first heard the original version of ‘Wrong’,” says Kornel Kovács, whose remix of “Wrong” appears on this white label. “Deborah’s voice floored me, as well as the background singers. One of the greatest vocal performances I’ve heard, let alone worked with. The result is a club-ready take that’s become a highlight in my recent DJ sets.”

Producers Brandon Weems and Craig Handfield (of musclecars) had a similar experience when they heard the family for the first time: “We quickly fell in love with the groovy bassline and the choir vocals,” said Craig. “We thought it’d be fitting to put our own spin on it, while paying homage to those jive brothers from Tulsa. The uplifting keys paired with the punch of the drums, rounded out with that organ…this one is sure to bring a joyful noise!”

Annie Caldwell and her family have since performed in more than twenty countries on four continents, and recently made a star turn on the UK's preeminent music program Later... with Jools Holland. They’re hitting the road again in 2026. Watch this space.





c Wrong You Dropped a Bomb - Extended Wooden Dance Floor Mix (A Nicky Siano Production) 6:48

Carlos Giffoni reconnects with Thurston Moore for two sides of loose-limbed axe noise, oscillator worship and hard-phased, Spacemen 3-style feedback.

Giffoni’s been on a roll recently. Since the No Fun founder returned to the scene with »Vain¡, a genius set of synth mutations that appeared in iDEAL back in 2018, he’s been slowly ramping up the activity, dropping the celestial »Dream Walker« on Stephen O’Malley’s Ideologic Organ in 2024 and following it with »Pendulum«, a bumper compendium of collaborations, just a few weeks back. For those who remember Giffoni’s first trip round the block, he was always able to hold his own chopping it up in person, not just by mail.

Just scrub through his early catalog and you’ll see collabs with Nels Cline and Chris Corsano, Merzbow, Jim O’Rourke and Lasse Marhaug, and of course, Thurston Moore. The two rekindle their thing on »IGUANA’« picking up where 2001’s fabled »4 Guitars Live« performance left off. Here, Giffoni straddles a tabletop synth and FX while Moore attacks his signature Jazzmaster with a drumstick and a screwdriver – vibes fully intact.

Moore is on blistering form, sounding as if he’s taken a step back to refresh his approach since the early ‘00s when he could be spotted moonlighting on any number of basement-adjacent noise sides. Sawing at his strings and turning the guitar into a shrieking resonator, he leaves only faint vapours of the classic Sonic Youth sound as opiating accents on his animalistic wails and rumbles. On the opening half, his whammy – assisted shreds are balanced out by Giffoni’s off-world whirrs and airlocked vibrations, building a dense wall of noise towards an unexpectedly elegiac conclusion. At some point, Giffoni’s rasping churr transforms into a simmering shudder and Moore’s into hymnal drones – squint a bit and you could almost call it pretty.

Of course, they ramp things up on the flip, dissolving the melancholia with smokey white noise and twangy, post-Derek Bailey chimes that Giffoni accompanies with aggy oscillations. Like every great taped noise set, the recording quality is crucial - »IGUANA« was captured from the pit by Guillermo Hernandez Avendano, the dad of Lia Miranda who provides the cover photo. It’s that kinda show.

UILTY RAZORS, BONA FIDE PUNKS.



Writings on the topic that go off in all directions, mind-numbing lectures given by academics, and testimonies, most of them heavily doctored, from those who “lived through that era”: so many people today fantasize about the early days of punk in our country… This blessed moment when no one had yet thought of flaunting a ridiculous green mohawk, taking Sid Vicious as a hero, or – even worse – making the so-called alternative scene both festive and boorish. There was no such thing in 1976 or 1977, when it wasn’t easy to get hold of the first 45s by the Pistols or the Clash. Few people were aware of what was happening on the fringes of the fringes at the time. Malcolm McLaren was virtually unknown, and having short hair made you seem strange. Who knew then that rock music, which had taken a very bad turn since the early 1970s, would once again become an essential element of liberation? That, thanks to short and fast songs, it would once again rediscover that primitive, social side that was so hated by older generations? Who knew that, besides a few loners who read the music press (it was even better if they read it in English) and frequented the right record stores? Many of these formed bands, because it was impossible to do otherwise. We quickly went from listening to the Velvet Underground to trying to play the Stooges’ intros. It’s a somewhat collective story, even though there weren’t many people to start it.
The Guilty Razors were among those who took part in this initial upheaval in Paris. They were far from being the worst. They had something special and even released a single that was well above the national average. They also had enough songs to fill an album, the one you’re holding. In everyone’s opinion, they were definitely not among the punk impostors that followed in their wake. They were, at least, genuine and credible.

Guilty Razors, Parisian punk band (1975-1978). To understand something about their somewhat linear but very energetic sound, we might need to talk about the context in which it was born and, more broadly, recall the boredom (a theme that would become capital in punk songs) coupled with the desire to blow everything off, which were the basis for the formation of bands playing a rejuvenated rock music ; about the passion for a few records by the Kinks or the early Who, by the Stooges, by the Velvet mostly, which set you apart from the crowd.
And of course, we should remember this new wave, which was promoted by a few articles in the specialized press and some cutting-edge record stores, coming from New York or London, whose small but powerful influence could be felt in Paris and in a handful of isolated places in the provinces, lulled to sleep by so many appalling things, from Tangerine Dream to President Giscard d’Estaing...
In 1975-76, French music was, as almost always, in a sorry state ; it was still dominated by Johnny Hallyday and Sylvie Vartan. Local rock music was also rather bleak, apart from Bijou and Little Bob who tried to revive this small scene with poorly sound-engineered gigs played to almost no one.
In the working class suburbs at the time, it was mainly hard rock music played to 11 that helped people forget about their gruelling shifts at the factory. Here and there, on the outskirts of major cities, you still could find a few rockers with sideburns wearing black armbands since the death of Gene Vincent, but it wasn’t a proper mass movement, just a source of real danger to anyone they came across who wasn't like them. In August 1976, a festival unlike any other took place in Mont-de-Marsan – the First European Punk Festival as the poster said – with almost as many people on stage as in the audience. Yet, on that day, a quasi historical event happened, when, under the blazing afternoon sun, a band of unknowns called The Damned made an unprecedented noise in the arena, reminiscent of the chaotic Stooges in their early adolescence. They were the first genuine punk band to perform in our country: from then on, anything was possible, almost anything seemed permissible.

It makes sense that the four+1 members of Guilty Razors, who initially amplified acoustic guitars with crappy tape recorder microphones, would adopt punk music (pronounced paink in French) naturally and instinctively, since it combines liberating noise with speed of execution and – crucially – a very healthy sense of rebellion (the protesters of May 1968 proclaimed, and it was even a slogan, that they weren’t against old people, but against what had made them grow old. In the mid-1970s, it seemed normal and obvious that old people should now ALSO be targeted!!!).
At the time, the desire to fight back, and break down authority and apathy, was either red or black, often taking the form of leafleting, tumultuous general assemblies in the schoolyard, and massive or shabby demonstrations, most of the time overflowing with an exciting vitality that sometimes turned into fights with the riot police. Indeed, soon after the end of the Vietnam War and following Pinochet’s coup in Chile, all over France, Trotskyist and anarcho-libertarian fervour was firmly entrenched among parts of the educated youth population, who were equally rebellious and troublemakers whenever they had the chance. It should also be noted that when the single "Anarchy in the UK" was first heard, even though not many of us had access to it, both the title and its explosive sound immediately resonated with some of those troublemakers crying out for ANARCHY!!! Meanwhile, the left-wing majority still equated punks with reckless young neo-Nazis. Of course, the widely circulated photos in the mainstream press of Siouxsie Sioux with her swastikas didn’t necessarily help to win over the theorists of the Great Revolution. It took Joe Strummer to introduce The Clash as an anti-racist, anti-fascist and anti-ignorance band for the rejection of old-school revolutionaries to fade a little.

The Lycée Jean-Baptiste Say at Porte d’Auteuil, despite being located in the very posh and very exclusive 16th arrondissement of Paris, didn’t escape these "committed" upheavals, which doubled as the perfect outlet for the less timid members of this generation.
“Back then, politics were fun,” says Tristam Nada, who studied there and went on to become Guilty Razors’ frontman. “Jean-Baptiste was the leftist high-school in the neighbourhood. When the far right guys from the GUD came down there, the Communist League guys from elsewhere helped us fight them off.”
Anything that could challenge authority was fair game and of course, strikes for just about any reason would lead to increasingly frequent truancy (with a definitive farewell to education that would soon follow). Tristam Nada spent his 10th and 11th unfinished grades with José Perez, who had come from Spain, where his father, a janitor, had been sentenced to death by Franco. “José steered my tastes towards solid acts such as The Who. Like most teenagers, I had previously absorbed just about everything that came my way, from Yes to Led Zeppelin to Genesis. I was exploring… And then one day, he told me that he and his brother Carlos wanted to start a rock band.” The Perez brothers already played guitar. “Of course, they were Spanish!”, jokes their singer. “Then, somewhat reluctantly, José took up the bass and we were soon joined by Jano – who called himself Jano Homicid – who took up the rhythm guitar.” Several drummers would later join this core of not easily intimidated young guys who didn’t let adversity get the better of them.

The first rehearsals of the newly named Guilty Razors took place in the bedroom of a Perez aunt. There, the three rookies tried to cover a few standards, songs that often were an integral part of their lives. During a first, short gig, in front of a bewildered audience of tough old-school rockers, they launched into a clunky version of the Velvet Underground's “Heroin”. Challenge or recklessness? A bit of both, probably… And then, step by step, their limited repertoire expanded as they decided to write their own songs, sung in a not always very accurate or academic English, but who cared about proper grammar or the right vocabulary, since what truly mattered was to make the words sound as good as possible while playing very, very fast music? And spitting out those words in a language that left no doubt as to what it conveyed mattered as well.
Trying their hand a the kind of rock music disliked by most of the neighbourhood, making noise, being fiercely provocative: they still belonged to a tiny clique who, at this very moment, had chosen to impose this difference. And there were very few places in France or elsewhere, where one could witness the first stirrings of something that wasn’t a trend yet, let alone a movement.

In the provinces, in late 1976 or early 1977, there couldn’t be more than thirty record stores that were a bit more discerning than average, where you could hear this new kind of short-haired rock music called “punk”. The old clientele, who previously had no problem coming in to buy the latest McCartney or Aerosmith LP, now felt a little less comfortable there…
In Paris, these enlightened places were quite rare and often located nex to what would become the Forum des Halles, a big shopping mall. Between three aging sex workers, a couple of second-hand clothes shops, sellers of hippie paraphernalia and small fashion designers, the good word was loudly spread in two pioneering places – propagators of what was still only a new underground movement. Historically, the first one was the Open Market, a kind of poorly, but tastefully stocked cave. Speakers blasted out the sound of sixties garage bands from the Nuggets compilation (a crucial reference for José Perez) or the badly dressed English kids of Eddie and the Hot Rods. This black-painted den was opened a few years earlier by Marc Zermati, a character who wasn’t always in a sunny disposition, but always quite radical in his (good) choices and his opinions. He founded the independent label Skydog and was one of the promoters of the Mont-de-Marsan punk festivals. Not far from there was Harry Cover, another store more in tune with the new New York scene, which was amply covered in the house fanzine, Rock News (even though it was in it that the photos of the Sex Pistols were first published in France).
It was a favorite hang-out of the Perez brothers and Tristam Nada, as the latter explained. “It’s at Harry Cover’s that we first heard the Pistols and Clash’s 45s, and after that, we decided to start writing our first songs. If they could do it, so could we!”
The sonic shocks that were “Anarchy in the UK”, “White Riot” or the Buzzcocks’s EP, “Spiral Scratch” – which Guilty Razors' sound is reminiscent of – were soon to be amplified by an unparalleled visual shock. In April 1977, right after the release of their first LP, The Clash performed at the Palais des Glaces in Paris, during a punk night organised by Marc Zermati. For many who were there, it was the gig of a lifetime…
Of course, Guilty Razors and Tristam were in the audience: “That concert was fabulous… We Parisian punks were almost all dressed in black and white, with white shirts, skinny leather ties, bikers jackets or light jackets, etc. The Clash, on the other hand, wore colourful clothes. Well, the next day, at the Gibus, you’d spot everyone who had been at this concert, but they weren’t wearing anything black, they were all wearing colours.”

It makes sense to mention the Gibus club, as Guilty Razors often played there (sometimes in front of a hostile audience). It was also the only place in Paris that regularly scheduled new Parisian or Anglo-Saxon acts, such as Generation X, Siouxsie and the Banshees, the Slits, and Johnny Thunders who would become a kind of messed-up mascot for the venue. A little later, in 1978, the Rose Bonbon – formerly the Nashville – also attracted nightly owls in search of electric thrills… In 1977, the iconic but not necessarily excellent Asphalt Jungle often played at the Gibus, sometimes sharing the bill with Metal Urbain, the only band whose aura would later transcend the French borders (“I saw them as the French Sex Pistols,” said Geoff Travis, head of their British label Rough Trade). Already established in this small scene, Metal Urbain helped the young and restless Guilty Razors who had just arrived. Guitarist for Metal Urbain Hermann Schwartz remembers it: “They were younger than us, we were a bit like their mentors even if it’s too strong a word… At least they were credible. We thought they were good, and they had good songs which reminded of the Buzzcocks that I liked a lot. But at some point, they started hanging out with the Hells Angels. That’s when we stopped following them.”

The break-up was mutual, since, Guilty Razors, for their part, were shocked when they saw a fringe element of the audience at Metal Urbain concerts who repeatedly shouted “Sieg Heil” and gave Nazi salutes. These provocations, even still minor (the bulk of the skinhead crowd would later make their presence felt during concerts), weren’t really to the liking of the Perez brothers, whose anti-fascist convictions were firmly rooted. Some things are non-negotiable.
A few months earlier (in July 1978), Guilty Razors had nevertheless opened very successfully for Metal Urbain at the Bus Palladium, a more traditonally old-school rock night-club. But, as was sometimes the case back then, the night turned into a mass brawl when suburban rockers came to “beat up punks”.

Back then, Parisian nights weren’t always sweet and serene.

So, after opening as best as they could for The Jam (their sound having been ruined by the PA system), our local heroes were – once again – met outside by a horde of greasers out to get them. “Thankfully,” says Tristam, “we were with our roadies, motorless bikers who acted as a protective barrier. We were chased in the neighbouring streets and the whole thing ended in front of a bar, with the owner coming out with a rifle…”
Although Tristam and the Perez brothers narrowly escaped various, potentially bloody, incidents, they weren’t completely innocent of wrongdoing either. They still find amusing their mugging of two strangers in the street for example (“We were broke and we simply wanted to buy tickets for the Heartbreakers concert that night,” says Tristam). It so happened that their victims were two key figures in the rock business at the time: radio presenter Alain Manneval and music publisher Philippe Constantin. They filed a complaint and sought monetary compensation, but somehow the band’s manager, the skilful but very controversial Alexis, managed to get the complaint withdrawn and Guilty Razors ended up signing with Constantin with a substantial advance.

They also signed with Polydor and the label released in 1978 their only three-track 45, featuring “I Don't Wanna be A Rich”, “Hurts and Noises” and “Provocate” (songs that exuded perpetual rebellion and an unquenchable desire for “class” confrontation). It was a very good record, but due to a lack of promotion (radio stations didn’t play French artists singing in English), it didn’t sell very well. Only 800 copies were allegedly sold and the rest of the stock was pulped… Initially, the three tracks were to be included on a LP that never came to be, since they were dropped by Polydor (“Let’s say we sometimes caused a ruckus in their offices!” laughs Tristam.) In order to perfect the long-awaited LP, the band recorded demos of other tracks. There was a cover of Pink Floyd's “Lucifer Sam” from the Syd Barrett era – proof of an enduring love for the sixties’ greats –, “Wake Up” a hangover tale and “Bad Heart” about the Baader-Meinhof gang, whose actions had a profound impact on the era and on a generation seeking extreme dissent... On the album you’re now discovering, you can also hear five previously unreleased tracks recorded a bit later during an extended and freezing stay in Madrid, in a makeshift studio with the invaluable help of a drummer also acting as sound engineer. He was both an enthusiastic old hippie and a proper whizz at sound engineering. Here too, certain influences from the fifties and sixties (Link Wray, the Troggs) are more than obvious in the band’s music.

Shortly after a final stormy and rather barbaric (on the audience’s side) “Punk night” at the Olympia in June 1978, Tristam left the band ; his bandmates continued without him for a short while.

But like most pioneering punk bands of the era, Guilty Razors eventually split up for good after three years (besides once in Spain, they’d only played in Paris). The reason for ceasing business activities were more or less the same for everyone: there were no venues outside one’s small circuit to play this kind of rock music, which was still frightening, unknown, or of little interest to most people. The chances of recording an LP were virtually null, since major labels were only signing unoriginal but reassuring sub-Téléphone clones, and the smaller ones were only interested in progressive rock or French chanson for youth clubs. And what about self-production? No one in our small safety-pinned world had thought about it yet. There wasn’t enough money to embark on that sort of venture anyway.

So yes, the early days of punk in France were truly No Future!

Some years ago, Kjell Bjørgeengen and Keith Rowe attempted to convert video signals into sound by setting up Rowe’s pickups next to an old CRT monitor, turning its magnetic field into a sound generator. Rowe further developed the system with David Jones at Alfred University, slimming down the setup using a copper coil, a circuit board, a video input, and a telephone pickup. Jones named it the »Flood Coil«, and it’s that instrument you can see on the album’s front cover and that lies at the core of these recordings, made without any physical live input from the artists themselves. In essence, it’s generative music in its purest form.

Bjørgeengen’s video feed is generated by oscillators, then routed into Marhaug’s pedals and then back into the Flood Coil, so any visual shifts alter the sound, and any modification to the sound changes the video. The duo have played this setup live many times, but for this studio version they left the system to do its thing without any intervention for two minutes at a time before moving onto the next idea. They recorded hours and hours using this process and then selected 18 highlights for this album, extracting harsh noise, power electronics, lulling feedback drone, and peculiar rhythmic snippets to show the scope of their technique.

A wall of growling, hi-octane Pulse Demon-style noise opens the set, gradually exposing us to more asymmetric textures, shifting through unstable repetitions that transform Merzbow’s metal-inspired screams into »Aaltopiiri«-era rhythmic noise. It’s remarkable, actually, how much Marhaug and Bjørgeengen can squeeze from the system, chancing on shivering, lower-case chugs and pops, galloping drums, soundsystem subs, and grinding blast beats that sound like Napalm Death’s »Scum« piped through a broken amp stack. It ain’t pretty, but noise/industrial freaks will revel in the fierce delights inside.

Mango Glow Edition. Das experimentelle Berliner Trio ZAHN kehrt mit seinem bislang elektrisierendsten Werk zurück. Eine üppige Fusion aus Schwere, Elektronik und halluzinatorischen Farben. Monolithische Grooves treffen auf synthetischen Schimmer. PURPUR strahlt Spannung und Gefahr aus und pulsiert mit Tiefe und Dichte. Bekannt für ihren intensiven, treibenden Sound, der den unerbittlichen Marsch einer Welt am Abgrund widerspiegelt, vertieft das Trio ZAHN - Chris Breuer, Nic Stockmann und Felix Gebhard - seine klangliche Erkundung mit einem Album, das gleichzeitig elektronischer und rockiger ist als seine gefeierten Vorgänger. Purpur orientiert sich am lebhaften Cover des Albums - einer Explosion aus Trauben und Beeren, die seinen üppigen, farbenfrohen Sound widerspiegelt. Das Album verbindet kraftvolle Genres zu etwas Frischem und Elektrisierendem: schwere Fundamente treffen auf reichhaltige elektronische Texturen und schaffen Schichten aus Farbe, Komplexität und einem Hauch von halluzinatorischer Süße. Erneut in Gyhum mit dem Toningenieur Peter Voigtmann (ex-The Ocean, Death By Gong, Heads.) aufgenommen, tritt Purpur in die Fußstapfen der bisherigen Werke der Band, markiert aber auch einen mutigen Sprung nach vorne. Gastbeiträge von Fabian Bremer (Radare, AUA) und Kjetil Nernes (Årabrot) vertiefen das Gefühl der Unruhe und Faszination des Albums, während Magnus Lindberg (Cult of Luna) mit seinem Mix und Mastering dem Album die Tiefe eines unterirdischen Pulses verleiht - knackig, schwer und lebendig mit mikroskopischen Details. Während ,Adria" eine lebhafte Flucht durch Krautrock, Dark Jazz, Noise Rock und Post-Punk bot, zieht ,Purpur" die Zuhörer in eine dichtere, komplexere und eng verwobene Klanglandschaft. Das dritte Album der Band ist ein berauschender Wirbel aus synthetischem Puls und physischer Schwere - ein Album, das sich eher wie fermentiert als wie komponiert anfühlt.

The earliest foundations of the Detroit Harmony group ‘The Gaslight’ came when future lead singer Oliver “Butch” Cheatham via an introduction by his sister Jackie joined a group known as ‘The Young Sirs’ who recorded, “There’s Something The Matter (With Your Heart/African Love” for Magic City during 1969. The group included Oliver’s future brother -in-law Allen Cocker (Jackie’s future husband).

Oliver and Allen went on to form a new vocal quartet with Curtis “Kippy” Anderson and Michael Eatmon. Under the group name of ‘The Gaslight’ they signed to Uptight Productions Incorporated, a local production company founded by local businessmen Marvin Figgins and Arnold Wright. The Gaslight were the only vocal harmony group signed to Uptight Productions and as such, it was they who made the most recordings across two label imprints Grand Junction and Black Rock. The Gaslight’s first single “I Can’t Tell A Lie/Here’s Missing You” was released on Grand Junction (GJ1001) in 1970, For the groups second single Figgin’s placed them under the guidance of legendary producer/songwriter, the late George McGregor under whom they recording “Drifting Away/If You See Her” Grand Junction (GJ1002) released in 1971 For their next release Figgin’s switched the group to his Black Rock label to record “Out Of My Hand/I’m Only A Man” Black Rock (2002) under the pseudonym of Butch & The Newport’s With “Butch” being Oliver’s nickname. A later, second release of “I’m Only A Man” but with a different flip side “I’m Gonna Get You” came out on Grand Junction (GJ1100) in 1973 with the performing artist credits reverting back to ‘The Gaslight’.

Upon leaving Uptight Production’s the group found a new home when George McCregor took them to a new fledgling label T.E.A.I (an abbreviation for “Tellin’ Everybody About It”) owned by ‘The Dramatics’ Road Manager Charles Underwood. ‘The Gaslight’s’ first and only release for T.E.A.I, was the mellifluous 1975 double sider “Just Because Of You/It’s Just Like Magic”. Underwood had precured a working relationship with Polydor Records who picked the release up for national distribution three months later. As good as the record was due to poor promotion it failed to make any notable noise and eventually sank with the group soon after breaking up.

During Soul Junction’s later dealings with the late Oliver Cheatham, respected UK Collector Andy Rix mentioned he owned a three track acetate containing the two mentioned T.E.A.I/Polydor tracks plus a third unissued dance track “Hard Times” which through a licensing deal with Charles Underwood Soul Junction now present to you on a three track 45, released under its full title “Hard Times Are Coming, Hard Times Are Here” backed with a previously unissued mix of “Just Because Of You” alongside the issued 45 version of “It’s Just Like Magic”.

Celebrating the 30th Anniversary of Jennifer Warnes' Pop Classic on Crystal Clear Green Vinyl!
All-Tube Mastering by Chris Bellman at Bernie Grundman Mastering from the Original Master Analog Tapes on 180 Gram Vinyl!
One-Time Pressing of 3,000 Individually Numbered Copies!
New Inner Sleeve and LP Labels!
Pressed at RTI!

Impex Records is celebrating the 30th Anniversary of The Hunter with a one-time, individually-numbered pressing of 3,000 in crystal clear green vinyl! Jennifer Warnes’ acclaimed follow-up to Famous Blue Raincoat features a Grammy-nominated recording by Elliot Scheiner and all-tube mastering by Chris Bellman at Bernie Grundman Mastering using Jennifer’s personal original analogue master tapes.

‘The Hunter’ was released five years after her breakthrough with ‘Famous Blue Raincoat’. A TOP 100 LP when first released in 1992, The Hunter’s audiophile credibility is best summed up by Elliot Scheiner’s Grammy-nominated recording and mix. It contains the charting single “Rock You Gently,” a sonically dense yet expansive cover of The Waterboy’s classic “The Whole of the Moon,” a soulful Jennifer Warnes/Leonard Cohen composition “Way Down Deep,” Todd Rundgren’s “Pretending to Care” and even a Donald Fagen tune (“Big Noise, New York”). She owns every tune here, backed by a-list session players who ground the songs with solid and unobtrusive authority, letting Jennifer’s peerless interpretive skills bring the soul of every lyric to the forefront. Ms. Warnes uses her voice to serve the lyrics, allowing the song to return the favour.

“The follow-up to Warnes’ FBR offers crisp percussion cues, solid bass throughout – but especially during “Way Down Deep” – and a surprise chamber quartet on the title track” – Neil Gader, TAS Guide to Audiophile Demo Disc

Arista (now Sony/BMG) never released The Hunter on vinyl in the U.S. A regular-weight LP floated around Europe for a while but is not noted for exceptional sound or quiet vinyl.

“Remastered by Chris Bellman at Bernie Grundman Mastering, the sonics are luscious. Warnes has always had an audiophile’s ear and was hands-on with this effort–one of the last from now-defunct Cisco Records. It soars effortlessly, restoring warmth and delicacy and easily besting the earth-bound but otherwise excellent CD. It’s an example of both an artist in full charge of her powers, and analogue art its very best.” – Greg Cahill, The Absolute Sound

Longtime friend of the label Eraserhead returns after over a decade away from producing music due to his surreal MS Paint work as 'Jim'll Paint It' becoming an unexpected cultural phenomenon. With his debut full-length, 'Violence', Eraserhead presents a truly eclectic electronic LP featuring collaborations with established producers such as Om Unit, Enduser, and Brain Rays, as well as the vocal talents of Nadia Rose, Beans (of Antipop Consortium), and Cadence Weapon. An album held together by theme and tone rather than style or tempo, 'Violence' is the culmination of a bitter wave of inspiration, initially conceived in the wake of a personal tragedy that quickly grew into a broader polemic about the state of the world.

Originally linking up with Love Love in its breakcore netlabel infancy with his refined, breaks-heavy breakcore/gabba, Eraserhead's flair for tight, intricate productions was evident in his finely tuned tracks of controlled chaos. This time around, his work is a darker, more expansive evolution of his sound, with the scale upsized and the stylistic scope massively broadened, remaining unfaithful to any single genre, but with firm nods to Breakcore, Grime, Drum & Bass, Techno, Rave, Dubstep, and Footwork, all chewed up with a hard industrial edge and cinematically framed by a backdrop of apocalyptic synths.

Opening with the cold tech-noir of 'Shining Brainless Beacon' to set the tone, the album quickly locks in with the blistering spoken-word headrush of 'Hurricane With Teeth' alongside rapper Beans, before Om Unit lends his expertise on the sharp groove and clinical bass blasts of 'Operation Hardtack'. The album shifts and morphs constantly throughout the runtime, moving from the raw and urgent acid techno of 'Crowd Control' to the crunching military march of the Gore Tech collaboration 'No More Worlds' and the tribal sci-fi footwork of the Brain Rays collaboration 'Night Visions'. 'Monolith' provides a final burst of catharsis, channelling Underworld by way of Nine Inch Nails, complete with writhing screams from Amée Chanter of sludge-punk-noise-rock duo Human Leather, before the heart of the album is laid bare with the painfully bleak closing dirge of 'Animal'. In its final moments, 'Violence' leaves the listener suspended between devastation and awe - an unflinching portrait of an uncaring world.

Talulah’s Tape is the debut offering from magnetic Midwest-jangle collective Good Flying Birds. Across a patchwork mixtape of stripped-down home recordings that span the independent-guitar spectrum, the band delivers colorful, intricate pop songs perched between the immediacy of DIY punk and the intimate sweetness of twee. Breakbeats, memes, and noise glue everything together, making the album feel as chronically online as it is timeless.

Originally released on cassette in January 2025 by Midwest-punk legend Martin Meyers’s Rotten Apple label, the tape sold more than 300 copies in under a month and quickly became an out-of-print and coveted item. Meyers called it “certified catnip for popheads.” Now, with a refined track list and a fresh master from Greg Obis, Talulah’s Tape returns on LP and CD via Carpark and Smoking Room in October 2025.

While production and approach vary, a through-line of sensitive self-contemplation rests on bright, scrappy guitars and hyperactive melodic bass. Opener “Down on Me” rides a buoyant bass line while jangling guitars frame reflections on overcoming trauma: “I see you in the mirror every time I cry / I hear your voice every time I try.” Next, the guitars trade twinkling counter-melodies on “I Care for You,” pairing sugary, lovestruck lyrics with effervescent strums: “You catch me when I fall / You build me up so tall.”

The rosy grin occasionally twists into a wicked smirk. “Dynamic” warns, “You used to paint the face, but now you’re just the clown,” while “Glass” asks, “Is it lonely at the top when everyone follows the trend, and you hold the pen?” Both tracks brim with sparkling guitar interplay. By the closing, nearly five-minute “Last Straw,” Good Flying Birds stand far beyond conventional indie-pop or 4-track punk, unveiling a roller-coaster of unpredictable changes, vocal harmonies, and instrumental cross-talk.

Altogether, Talulah’s Tape is a pastel-yellow, candy-coated shell filled with thoughtful juxtapositions and melodic experiments. Standing on the same ground as idiosyncratic songwriters like Connie Converse and Daniel Johnston, Good Flying Birds find sweetness in sadness, tear stains on a colorful flower-print couch. Simultaneously, it’s packed with the scratchy guitars and vibrant rhythms of Scottish guitar groups like The Pastels, Orange Juice, and Josef K. It’s a tremendous opening statement from a band just getting started.

A meteorite and a lost EP from an experimental electronic talent escape their grim fate: remain unknown to human civilization forever.

Around 2015, Gareth Smyth (aka Lumigraph) produced two tracks before uploading them on his Soundcloud page under the name “Canyon Diablo”, a tribute to a meteorite that crashed in Arizona 49,000 years ago. Amazed, the future co-founder of M+M Disques barely had time to download them onto his hard drive before they were deleted... until today.

Behind the extraterrestrial sounds of this 2-tracker, Lumigraph seems to want to establish communication with planet earth using its own means. In the dubby “Flamingo Drive”, he patiently builds up his sluggish groove before bringing in a reassuring and catchy bassline. On the B-side, the avant-garde “America Song” combines industrial rhythms, drone guitar, and Pierre Henry-ish noises.

* fine art printed insert + PVC sleeve

Limited edition – A side brings a noisy Industrial fucked up noise music while B side goes Speedcore Hardcore radical and in a musical way... Big one !

Transmitting from deep in the Finnish underground, Nazar sends out a signal of mysterious, synthetic auras and shadowy, skittering sequences. From smoky outsider techno to rainy-day electro abstraction, the label’s emphasis is on expression and intrigue as each release reaches across the energetic spectrum of moody machine music.

The first release on Nazar presents a cast of protagonists from the Helsinki scene who share precisely the kind of nocturnal tendencies the label is seeking out. Seasoned duo General Electrix open up the A side with ‘Redshifter’, a silken web of 606-powered electro and warmly haunted synth work that nods to the early years of Autechre. Making an early step out into the public domain, Asyx follows up swiftly with the exquisitely detailed machine funk of ‘kVelorum ‘, where a vivid tapestry of noise, squelch and bleep techno gets smartly woven between airy pad tones and a rock-solid rhythm section.

On the B side, Helsinki mainstay Kaiunta brings a dramatic flourish to mid tempo creeper ‘Phantasm’, matching a densely packed rumble of live drums with sweeps of nervy atmospherics and a murky inversion of the classic gated trance lead. 53X rounds out the Nazar mission towards broad BPMs and fresh ideas with a crunchy swerve towards sample-heavy downtempo laced with a generous dose of psychedelics and angular noise.

NAZAR001 is the kind of record that yields surprises and slots into unexpected moments depending on when and where the needle drops, providing versatile moments for adventurous selectors and continuing the fine tradition of outsider electro and techno from Finland.

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

Both lyrically & musically, 'VOiD' reflects a disillusionment with a world increasingly defined by division, ideological rigidity & the loss of nuance. The album documents a conscious withdrawal from the noise - a retreat into a personal void. "Metal as well as Rock, from the head as well from the heart" - Classic Rock DE Much of 'VOiD' is driven by frustration with the binary nature of modern discourse, where context & intent are routinely discarded in favour of winning arguments. The record rejects that environment entirely, choosing introspection over confrontation & exploring Darran Charles' (lyricist & vocals) balancing of misanthropy with optimism & isolation with connection.

"Their blend of indie-rock & alternative metal has emotion & depth" - Buzz Magazine The writing process for 'VOiD' was exacting & often punishing, with songs repeatedly reworked in pursuit of emotional impact. Long- standing collaborators Tom Price & Gavin Bushell play a vital role throughout, while the introduction of new bassist Francis George - the band's first line-up change in twelve years - brings a subtle but important shift in the overall feel of the rhythm section.

Detroit's Big Strick for his 7 Days Entertainment label has assembled of collection of Motor City leaning sounds from local and international artists here across four vital sides of wax. Generation Next opens with taught, pinging kicks and tinny melodies on deep house gem 'Senza Via D'Uscita' then Flabaire from Paris brings more bleeping sci-fi synths to a churning and dubbed out low end. Big Strick himself layers in electrically charged, fizzing synths and ticking hi-hats to his raw and gritty 'Bang My Shit' and Ron Cook ups the pace with the blissed out bumps of heady hymn, 'Again And Again.' Pegasvs from London also stands out with his great drum programming on '808 Jazz'.

Chalybeate documents a month long stay by Tokyo based producer aus in Ikaho, one of Japan's most established Onsen (hot spring) towns, during autumn 2024.

Working from field-recordings captured inside multiple ryokan baths, aus synthesized the subterranean movement of the onsen's with local details: the bubbling of source water, the hoozuki lantern plants and wind chimes placed at each inn, and the surrounding insects and birds. Rather than portraying Ikaho as a landscape, the recordings trace the town's respiration.

The material was first presented on site as an installation unfolding across eight different baths, where visitors listened while soaking in roten-buro (open air hot baths). The project drew wide attention for proposing listening as a bodily act, inseparable from heat, moisture, and duration.

Chalybeate re constructs that installation as an album. The recordings were left to sit for a year within Ikaho's air and humidity, allowing the sound itself to slowly change. The title refers to Ikaho's iron rich mineral water, known as "Golden Water," which oxidizes upon contact with air and leaves rust colored traces in its baths. Following this process, the album's sound was repeatedly re submerged and re worked, gradually absorbing a corroded texture.

Tape hiss, gentle distortion, and subtle fluctuations rise quietly, like steam.
What remains is not documentation but residue.

Mixing was handed over to Manchester based producer The Humble Bee by Craig Tattersall, known for his work with The Boats and The Remote Viewer, after aus exhausted himself traversing Ikaho's steep stone steps. The exchange mirrors the work itself: from bathtub to hot spring, from sound to something that surrounds the body.

Woodwind like tape noise and the movement of water dissolve into one another.
The music does not arrive all at once. It settles slowly, as if lowering into warm water.

Death Is Not The End reissue Mark Vernon's sought-after 2013 collection Sounds of a Modern Hospital on vinyl & cassette formats.

Whilst every effort has been made to record the subject in as great a degree of isolation as possible, the sound recordings you will hear on this record were made in a real working hospital and not under controlled conditions. Therefore, on occasion, you may hear some unavoidable background noise, conversations and other extraneous sounds.

All recordings were made by Mark Vernon at Forth Valley Royal Hospital, Larbert, Stirling Community Hospital and Falkirk Community Hospital between 2011 and 2013.

"In The Big Room" enthält Aufnahmen von Peter Gabriel und seiner Band, die am 23. November 2003 live im Big Room der Real World Studios aufgenommen wurden.

Dieses intime Konzert war für Mitglieder von Peter Gabriels Full Moon Club und fand während einer kurzen Reihe von Live-Shows im November 2003 statt, zu denen auch ein Auftritt für die britische Wohltätigkeitsorganisation Children in Need im Cyfarthfa Castle in Merthyr Tydfil, eine Show im Brighton Centre und das Nelson Mandela 46664 Concert in Kapstadt gehörten.

Das 14 Songs umfassende Set enthält Material, sowohl aus der "Growing Up" Live-Tournee von 2002/2003 – Gabriels erster Tournee seit 10 Jahren, die mit der Veröffentlichung seines Albums "UP" einherging – als auch aus der anschließenden "Still Growing Up" Live-Tour, die sich über einen Großteil des Jahres 2004 erstreckte. Besonders bemerkenswerte Ergänzungen zum "Growing Up" Live-Set sind "Burn You Up, Burn You Down", "Games Without Frontiers" und "The Tower That At People".

Lange bevor er jemals ein Studio von innen sah, war Sam Snitchy auf der Straße unterwegs und schrie unter dem Namen Maniporno Gedichte - roh, furchtlos und im Einklang mit dem Chaos um ihn herum. Dann begann er, diesen Lärm in Platten zu verwandeln - zuerst als Melker, später als Sam Snitchy. Im April 2026 erscheint nun das dritte Snitchy-Album bei Voodoo Rhythm Records - ein weiterer Schritt auf diesem Weg, tiefer hinein in den Lärm, den Puls, die Verwirrung, mit der alles begann. Das neue Album ist ein klanglicher Exorzismus, aufgenommen mit Marco Fuorigioco, der Bass, Synthesizer und Gitarren verzerrt und das Tonband zerreißt, Philipp Schlotter (Me&Mobi, Music Against Airports) der den Raum mit geisterhaften Synthesizer- Halluzinationen erfüllt, und Domi Chansorn (Sophie Hunger, Knackeboul, Fai Baba, Bonaparte, Marie Krüttli, Béatrice Graf) der die Drums wie einstürzende Türme hämmert. Gemeinsam zerren sie dich durch psychedelische Punkwut, verschmelzen mit den Schatten dunkler Waves, mutieren zu Industrial Noise und Dub-Nebel, verwandeln sich in einen verzerrten Techno-Puls, bis du nicht mehr unterscheiden kannst, wo das eine aufhört und das andere anfängt - alles nährt das Feuer. Und über diesem Sturm spuckt Sam Snitchy seine Worte wie zerbrochene Spiegel - verzerrte und selbstreflexive Geschichten über Menschen, die in ihren eigenen Widersprüchen gefangen sind, über leere Routinen und bedeutungslose Lebensstile, die als Erfolg getarnt sind, über den absurden Tanz zwischen Ekstase und Verzweiflung. Die Texte erklären nicht - sie verstören. Sie halten dir ein zerbrochenes Glas vor und zwingen dich, dich selbst anzusehen, bis du nicht mehr weißt, ob du lachen oder schreien sollst. In VVR's own words: "Sam Snitchy transforms chaos into sound. Once a street poet known as Maniporno, he now blends punk energy with techno pulse, industrial grit, dub tension, and psychedelic garage haze. It's raw and hypnotic _ words like broken glass, beats like heartbeat and collapse spring to mind."

B. Chamber (Stratum A), by B. Close, is the first full length solo release by Los Angeles-based multi-disciplinary artist Brian Close. The first of two volumes assembled from some thirteen hours of music produced by Close while residing in Connecticut from 2021-2025, B. Chamber (Stratum A) offers a vivid, fractal afterimage of a prolific, specific time and space in the artist’s oeuvre.

After leaving New York City early in the pandemic to a farmhouse in the countryside with dedicated spaces for multiple sound stations, Close developed an intensive daily practice of melding with the machines. The vast, pastoral backdrop of rural CT provided inspiration and contrast for his ongoing investigations into dynamic, poly-rhythmic electronic music. The sounds on B. Chamber (Stratum A) range from the machine-modeling of acoustic instruments and natural environments to the utterly unhuman, spinning on the axis between crystalline, pointillist precision and shifty blown-cone distortion. Close’s atypical interpretations of rhythm, noise and other undefined musics land in a hybrid zone of their own.

Throughout B. Chamber (Stratum A), Close’s productions are in perpetual motion. Foxtrot’s shifting hi-hats and disembodied voices rise like cicadas propelled by glitching machines and tangled rhythms, Many Drive draws momentum from dubby stabs and twinkling atmospherics. Character Community’s nimble, drifting snares and erratic static are uplifted by swelling synths, and Mpan’s modular mining forgoes drums but is no less propulsive for it. Acre Voices’ seasick pads and deft drum patterns tap an energizing nerve, and closer 5D Bow’s ambush of pummeling machine gun fire spirals into the tryptamine palace and emerges completely rinsed and refreshed.

Equally powerful in the club as in the outdoors, in the headphones eyes closed or on the move, B. Chamber (Stratum A) grants an immersive temporary trip on B. Close’s unique wavelength, with Stratum B to complete the picture in the summer of 2026.

RIYL - Mark Fell, muay thai, Vladislav Delay, gaming, Errorsmith, modular synthesizer.

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Brian Close (b. 1979, NYC) uses the cold logic of mathematics to trigger states of total sensory displacement. Close co-founded multiple AV studios to explore the "hypnotic"—a ritualistic practice of motional-graphism and improvisational sound. His work is a study in synesthesia and the architecture of trance, using geometric precision to dissolve the sense of time. It is a digital-visceral experience built on heavy logic, designed for large-scale immersion and timelessness.

Close is one half of Georgia who have released records on Palto Flats, Firecracker Recordings, Meakusma, Youth, OOH-Sounds and EM Records, and have a long-running residency on NTS.

B. Chamber was written, produced and mixed by Brian Close.
Mastered by Rashad Becker.
Artwork by Brian Close.