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On this new album, the trio of Sanem Kalfa, George Dumitriu, and Joachim Badenhorst invites you on a poetic and sonic voyage. While their debut Black Sea Songs (2021) drew from traditional folk melodies, this work is a collection of original compositions and one improvisation, inspired by the rich cultures and emotions surrounding the Black Sea.

The music of this trio is elegant yet adventurous, blending jazz, improvisation, world traditions, and contemporary classical influences. Kalfa's distinctive voice and cello, Dumitriu's versatile viola and guitar, and Badenhorst's expressive clarinet and occasional vocals create a unique, dreamlike atmosphere. From the melancholic dance of "Denizi Özleyenler ?çin" (inspired by Orhan Veli Kan?k) to the hypnotic rhythms of "Intermezzo" and the narrative depth of "Fisherman" and "Black", each track breathes the freedom, longing, and interconnectedness that the Black Sea symbolizes.
This album is not just a collection of songs but a living story of travel, encounter, and belonging-whether evoking the ports of Istanbul, the shores of Bulgaria, or the emotional landscapes that connect us all. Black Sea Songs is a celebration of spontaneity, familiarity, and the universal language of music.

Some recordings herald the future in ways that are impossible to see in real time. Teodros Makonnen With His Organ (ቴዎድሮስ መኮንን ከኦርጋኑ ጋር), by the artist Teodros Makonnen, also known as Teddy Mak, is one of those. Today, electronic sounds, synthesizers, and digital production are taken for granted in Ethiopian music, but in the early 1980s, they were novelties that polarized opinion. Even to this day, the story of Teodros Makonnen’s legacy has never been properly told. He played a decisive role in defining the sound of the digital era of Ethiopian music that emerged in the 1980s and beyond, both as a keyboard player and as a producer, songwriter, performer, and sound designer.

Ethiopian music was at a crossroads in the early 1980s. Much like music in the rest of the world, technology and automation heralded either a quantum leap in musical development or the annihilation of musicianship, depending on who you’d ask. The changes were incremental nonetheless, but with the benefit of hindsight one can clearly see that the changes meant different things in different contexts. Drum machines and electric organs came to replace many hotel bands because, all of a sudden, one musician could control drums, melody, and accompaniment. Teodros was one of the first musicians in Ethiopia to explore the possibilities this opened up.

Teodros’ father, Captain Makonnen Beri, was a chief pilot at Ethiopian Airlines and a music enthusiast at that. This would prove important to his development, as Makonnen brought back a piano from Germany, which would lead to the first steps in Teodros’ long musical career. Captain Makonnen’s work as Head of Flight Operations and as a pilot exposed him to the wider world that was far from commonplace for most Ethiopians. In a house where music captivated the whole family, the piano gave Teodros’ talent an outlet. Not only was a piano at home rare in Ethiopian households, his father also brought an Indian teacher to their home to teach Teodros and his brother, Captain Samuel Makonnen, music theory (solfeggio or ear training) and piano. Teodros and his youngest brother, the late great Dereje, a member of both the legendary Ibex Band and the Ethiopian reggae group Dallol, took up music from that point onward, with Teodros beginning to develop his proficiency at the age of eight. His father encouraged him to practice tirelessly at home, and Teodros later received musical schooling at the German School in Addis Ababa.

His obvious talent led to studies and formal education at the Yared School of Music, followed by continued studies in American jazz at Northern Virginia Community College in Virginia. Teodros cut his teeth professionally in his mid-teens, not only as a keyboardist, but also as an arranger for the Wabi Shebelle and Dahlak bands in the 1970s. He mastered electronic sequencing early, rising to prominence through the midnight recording sessions held during the military curfew. The pressures imposed by the curfew required precise and disciplined recordings, and Teodros delivered just that. This, in turn, led to collaborations with iconic artists such as Mulatu Astatke, Aster Aweke, Menelik Wossenachew, Tilahun Gessesse, Mahmoud Ahmed, and Alemayehu Eshete.

In those days, he sat in as a keyboardist with the Dahlak Band when Dawit Yifru took a hiatus to study in Russia, and also with the Ethiostar Band. He secured a residency at the Wabi Shebelle Hotel with the Shebele Band, together with Zelalem Tadese (drums), later succeeded by Elias Bekele, Mulugeta Hailu (bass), Teferi ‘Bibisha’ Mengesha (guitar), Kumelachew G/Selassie (trumpet), and Teshome Deneke (saxophone). A friendly competition developed between the bands associated with the Ras Hotel (the Ibex Band), Ghion Hotel (the Dahlak Band), and Wabi Shebelle Hotel (the Shebele Band). The music scene at Wabi Shebelle saw teenagers commanding the spotlight in an industry otherwise dominated by musicians of an older generation.

At the Wabi Shebelle Hotel, Teodros met a diplomat from Saudi Arabia and later visited him at his home in Addis Ababa, a meeting that had unexpected musical consequences. The man owned a Yamaha double-deck keyboard. That evening, they recorded Teodros Makonnen With His Organ (ቴዎድሮስ መኮንን ከኦርጋኑ ጋር) in one take. This recording, a cornerstone in the early digital sound of Ethiopian music, came about almost by chance, simply because Teodros got the opportunity. Traditional Ethiopian songs were cast in a wholly electronic style.

Once freed from backing duties, Teodros’ keyboards could explore dreamlike soundscapes that took Ethiopian music in new directions. Even though the cassette contained well-known Ethiopian songs, they were given highly original arrangements, performed on an electric organ with drum machine backing and rhythm patterns that left the listener with suggestive, lingering sounds. “Libesh Kabashen” (also known as “Anchi Bale Game”) and “Odu Gol Golesa” wrap you in the very stuff that dreams are made of.

Originally released on cassette only, this recording exudes a mystique that surpasses even some of the most obscure Ethiopian recordings of the day. It remained more or less unknown outside of Ethiopia until now. Some of the tracks, like “Addis Fikir,” are permeated with an almost naive buoyancy, free-floating sounds that lost contact with the ground the moment they were conceived. Others, like “Meche New Hageren Yemayew” and “Lelitu Alnega Alegn,” carry a moodier, quirkier timbre, with pulsating rhythms in the background. Yet even the darker pieces contain an unmistakable wave, something essentially Ethiopian. If most recordings of Teodros’s contemporaries at the time were teeming with atmosphere, his songs seem instead at home in the stratosphere, almost ethereal. Some of the music here could be filed under “lullabies,” were it not for the recurring, almost brooding feeling that engulfs the listener on the aforementioned tracks. You could easily be forgiven for drifting into a blissful haze as the music washes over you.

Up to the advent of electronic music production, Ethiopia was totally dominated by big bands on the one hand, and small groups on the other. The former were tied to large institutions such as the military, the latter emerged from the entertainment industry, in hotel bars and nightclubs. These groups were commercially driven, and bands ultimately had to foster a mercenary approach to employment, albeit not to the passion for music. In the light of this, Teodros’ musical legacy can be seen in two ways. On the one hand, he is a key player in Ethiopian music from the 1970s onwards, leaving an indelible mark through hundreds of compositions and arrangements, including soundtracks for numerous documentary films and advertisements for different companies. On the other hand, the way he and others employed electronics brought Ethiopian music onto a fork in the road.

The replacement of traditional instruments with electronic equipment was seen as impending doom by some. Others, like Teodros, saw new avenues for performance, production, and creativity. Just as later producers like Abegasu Shiota of Admas, Teodros was a trailblazer who opened paths that it took Ethiopian music as a whole more than a decade to rush into. The hotel scene had already been pushed toward electronic music by financial necessity and cost-cutting. Today’s revived global interest in Ethiopian music from the seventies and eighties, alongside a broader resurgence, has changed the reasons for using digital means of music production. They have become tools for musical dreaming. This is where the dreaming began.

Morikawa Seiichirou, vocals, bass
Yamagiwa Hideki, electric & classical guitar
Takahashi Ikuro, drums & percussion

je prie pour que la goutte ne tombe pas
(I pray that the drop does not fall) is the first international release by Japanese trio Chi To Shizuku. While they have released five albums and a 7” in Japan, their spectral, haunted rock songs haven’t yet reached a much wider audience overseas. With this album, then, a live recording taken at Koenji HIGH, Suginami, Tokyo on 23rd November 2021, the unique, quartz-like character of Chi To Shizuku’s music is writ large, the bleak bliss of their songs carved onto twelve-inch vinyl.
Perhaps the best-known member of Chi To Shizuku, at least for audiences with an ear turned to Japanese psychedelia, is drummer Takahashi Ikuro, known for his membership of almost every group worth a damn from that scene – Fushitsusha, Nagisa Ni Te, Ché-SHIZU, Kousokuya, High Rise, Maher Shalal Hash Baz, LSD March, the list goes on. But the core of Chi To Shizuku’s music is the collaboration between vocalist, bassist and lyricist Morikawa Seiichirou, and guitarist and arranger Yamagiwa Hideki. Morikawa is a member of long-running punk/goth group Z.O.A., and has also played with YBO , Zzzoo, and as collaborator with Takeshi and Atsuo of Boris in A/N; he’s also recently been performing with Mitsuru Tabata. Yamagiwa’s history takes in stints with Katsurei and Cock C’ Nell, and he also recently guested with la scene 裸身.

All this contextual information does relatively little, though, to prepare you for the unique vibration of Chi To Shizuku’s lustrous songs. They shimmer in the same half-light, perhaps, as Shizuka and the quieter moments of LSD March, sharing a similar poise and classicism, and there’s a tenderness and wracked poetry to Morikawa’s voice that reminds of the emotional intensities both of traditional Japanese folk, and of British folk music: on “Musuu No Nemuri No Naka De Kumo Wo Tukamu”, the combination of his singing, backed with gorgeously plangent guitar, reminds of no-one so much as it does The Pentangle or Spriguns Of Tolgus. Chi To Shizuku’s love for the ballad as form gifts their music an archaic, sometimes arcane resonance, and from what you can hear on this album, it’s clear they’re in love with graceful melancholy.

But this is not a folk album, by any means; it just shivers with the same eternal spirit. There are also hints of prog rock, and you can catch some passages of scratchy, distended free rock, on the extended spirit invocation of “Nanhito Hanhito”. je prie pour que la goutte ne tombe pas is an extraordinary album, a melancholy surprise, that reminds dedicated listeners of the seemingly bottomless well of great music to be found via the Japanese underground in its many forms. Perhaps Michel Henritzi says it best, though, in his liner notes, when he writes, “Chi To Shizuku’s music reminds us that our life is a dream that lasts only a season, and that oblivion will follow.”

Recorded at Koenji High Suginami, Tokyo, 23 November 2021
Mix & Mastering: Taku Unami, photography : Noriko Akiyama
Liner notes by Jon Dale Printed by Alan Sherry

»Cosmogonical Ears« is Amosphère's first album for Hallow Ground. Following her contribution to the Swiss label’s »Epiphanies« compilation and her 2021 full-length debut »More Die of Heartbreak« on 33-33, it features three expansive pieces. The Paris-based composer and multidisciplinary artist delves deeper into themes of time, space, cosmology, human perception, and psycho-physical effects, crafting profound sonic meditations. Drawing on a minimalist approach while blending electronic and acoustic elements, Amosphère’s long-form compositions are living, breathing entities whose sonic richness and evocative power unfold gradually over time, putting »Cosmogonical Ears« in direct kinship with previous Hallow Ground releases by artists such as Kali Malone and FUJI|||||||||||TA.

The album opens with its longest piece, »Land of eternal delight,« composed for the Buddha10 exhibition at the Museo d'Arte Orientale in Turin. Written during three years of isolation—a period in which Amosphère explored meditation practices and diverse belief systems—it merges mythology with personal transcendental experiences, reflecting on a challenging time for humanity. »By blending Buddhist philosophy and sculpture with my own meditation practices, I sought to explore a way for people to transcend the boundaries of space and time—not as a believer, but as an observer,« she explains. Featuring handmade ceramic instruments and recorded by Thomas Lefevre, the piece combines Amosphère’s electronic organ with Marc Lochner’s flute contributions, creating a sound that is simultaneously minimalist and expansive.

The concept of teleportation and how it challenges traditional notions of time and space serves as the foundation for the second piece. »Recent advances in quantum physics suggest that teleportation might be possible through quantum entanglement,« Amosphère notes. »What if science fiction is becoming reality—or has already existed in ancient times?« Drawing inspiration from theories proposed by physicists such as Roger Penrose, Amosphère again worked together with flutist Lochner, this time using her VCS 3 synthesizer. »Teleportation« weaves single notes into intricate, non-linear patterns that defy conventional logic, creating a complex auditory tapestry. The last piece »Black hole in, white hole out« was recorded on Corsica and features Miao Zhao’s bass clarinet drones alongside Amosphère’s church organ. It imagines the possible sound of crossing a black hole while also suggesting the study of its theoretical exit and its potential applications for large-scale time and space travel.

The questions posed by »Cosmogonical Ears« do not yield straightforward answers. Instead, Amosphère’s restrained yet intricately layered compositions require full immersion and concentration from the listener. As expressed by the album’s title—which envisions the birth of a new universe through listening—»Cosmogonical Ears« offers an experimental approach to auditory perception as a tool for seeking truth, freedom, and harmony between the outer world and the inner self.

Geoff Kirkwood (Man Power)

I’dgained some notoriety as a music producer and DJ but I hit a horrible case of writers block around 2018.

The problem I was finding was that I was trying to shoe horn every smart arsed clever dick musical reference I had into the music I was making, but the function of dance music is to make people dance, not to show people who broad your musical references are, so I was making pretty shitty music that landed in the middle and didn’t achieve either aim.

To tackle this I ended up committing to just trying to make the most expressive and wanky experimental stuff I could. I was immersed in club culture at the time so the whole enterprise started as a joke, hence the name “Bed Wetter”. However when I fully submitted to just naked exploration the really unexpected thing that happened was that I found myself unavoidably having to deal with a lot of my own bullshit. That bullshit turned into the “Billy Mill is Dead” album, which was essentially the sound of me excavating my own life and looking at how I felt about where I was from, where I was headed, my family, my history, my region and all of the things i have conflicting feelings about.

It was partially catharsis and also a bit of deprogramming around being able to call myself an artist after being raised to believe that wasn’t an option for me.

I self released Billy Mill is Dead in the months before the pandemic and it found it’s fair share of love in the places I hoped would connect with it, and just the right amount of being ignored by people who I’m pleased didn’t feel it. This all lead to me being emboldened enough to apply for an artist in residence position at a big regional opera house months later in the middle of lockdown.

My feeling was that if my DJ career was potentially over for the remainder of my lifetime then there was no harm in exploring this alternative method of expression to see where it could take me.

I submitted a ridiculously ambitious plan for what I would like to do as a project, and to my absolute shock I was selected for the position.

I was 40 years old and from a scarcity background so I had a potentially unique response to that kind of validation for the first time and what followed next was a process of me just coming back with bigger and more ridiculous ideas just to find out at whatstage they’d tell me to stop.

The thing is, nobody did. I got as far as suggesting writing a full symphony to be performed by an orchestra before my own nerve gave out and I decided that was probably as far as I should push things.

The problem with people giving you permission to do things is that you then need to go out and figure out how to do those things.

The biggest issue for me, beyond raising the money to pay for everything, was how does a person actually write a symphony?

I was introduced to Fiona Brice, a multi instrumentalist and orchestral arranger. She’s also a recording artist who releases on Bella Union. On top of that she’s a violinist who used to be part of the band Placebo and who used to appear regularly playing for other bands on things like Top of the Pops.

Not only was Fiona uniquely placed to not look down on the strange provenance of someone from an Acid House background wanting to write a symphony, but more to the point we really hit it off from day one.

Fiona coached me in the essentials of writing for an Orchestra, and then I went off and wrote the 8 movements.

I’d love to say I laboured for years over this bit, but it took about 2 weeks in total. I’d also love to say what I wrote was a complete symphony, but the version of this which is solely me feels like looking at something without your glasses on. The shape,feel and borders were all there, but the definition was absent. Fiona taught me the broad language of a symphony, but without her it would have lacked all intonation, nuance and detail. Where I had shaped ideas with a hammer, she brought out my meaning with precision using a scalpel.

I think the prodigiously quick turnaround for the music is as much proof of how conceptually and musically aligned Fiona and I are. I know we’re both incredibly proud of what we’ve created.

It took nearly 2 more years to stage the debut performance in what was potentially the most traumatic period of my life which saw me embroiled in an international crisis with my own family and the death of my father, all with the backdrop of COVID.

The work itself is inspired by the working class experience, but it’s also a comment on how we get to decide what we are and how we’re defined, and we get to choose what we do to prove these things.

The original recording was contractually impossible to ever share again, so we re-recorded it in a working men’s club with jobbing (albeit world class) players. In many ways it’s a record that feels like it shouldn’t exist, which is why we’re all so happy that it does.

Shaped in the shadows and sounds of the legendary Topanga Canyon, California. The debut album from Biita Houdei is buoyed by a magic that feels wildly and beautifully untamed; wild-hearted sentiments that are shaped by the world around it, fascinated by the enchantment of it all, and delivered via a collective (harmony layered) voice that understands the complex nature of what it means to be alive in the here and now.

Produced by Haley Heynderickx, 'This Bed Was Made For Me' is a striking collection of stirring, signature folk songs animated by subtle instrumentation and orchestral flourishes. It feels lived in: vocals weave together in a beautiful harmonic dance, seasons shift, sunshine appears and bold psychedelic colours warm the horizon.

In the early stages of making her debut album, Biita Houdei knew two things: that she wanted the recordings to feel distinctly and palpably warm, and that she would sew a unique patch for every song on the album. The first of those things is subjective, though brightness pours in from all corners of This Bed Was Made For Me. The second became a laborious task she undertook throughout the process, the completion of which is testament to the slow process of it all, to the physical commitment and patience required to make a full work of art.

The patches she crafted during the making of This Bed Was Made For Me became a full quilt, one that now adorns the album’s front cover. Beneath it sits a striking collection of Houdei’s stirring, signature folk songs, brought into fruition with the help of fellow songwriter Haley Heynderickx, in her first lead production role, and the album’s producer/engineer Sahil Ansari. It’s also the first release Biita (pronounced “bee-tah”) is releasing under her newly-taken name, one that was gifted to her by her auntie and means "unique" in the Farsi language. “I proudly take this name,” Biita says of the change. “It makes me feel that much closer to my Persian heritage.”

Recorded across ten back-to-back and full days, the album touches on themes of love and heritage, of taking chances, the preciousness of time and the impact we all have on the world around us. A number of the songs were written in Topanga, California, while Biita settled into a new home as wild fires raged, and as she adjusted to a life which no longer held distinct seasonal changes, far from the Ozark Mountain home she felt so attached to. Such themes reveal themselves in a variety of ways across the album’s fourteen songs, that key sense of warmth retained in the bones of the album whether they are stepping into darkness or seeking out light.

The album feels lived in and alive; dust swirls, seasons shift, sunshine appears and is held. Biita calls it ‘psychedelic’ and there is indeed a sense of that in the world building, in the way the bold colours are always shifting. Formed of fourteen songs, and filling nearly forty-five minutes, This Bed Was Made For Me not only builds a whole world for listeners to inhabit but also implores you to stay a while. This was deliberate, indeed it’s Biita’s wish that listeners give the album dedicated time; to learn its shape, to explore it fully, away from the instant grab of playlists and skewed algorithms.

“Many of my favourite albums didn’t reveal themselves instantly to me,” Biita, now based in the Catskill Mountains of New York, explains. “Some did, of course, but I had to work to understand the full scope of the piece as a whole. I encourage people to dive deeper into everything that they choose to consume. It is not my intention to sound pretentious, but instead, I am trying harder to explain the gratitude I have for being able to craft every part of this album— using my hands, my brain, my voice, my visions. To me, it is an all encompassing work of art,” she continues. “Making the quilt was laborious. Taking the cover photo was laborious. No shortcuts, but rather a manual and tangible approach. I am thankful for the time it took.”

Pioneering Ghanaian musician King Ayisobareturns September 4, 2026 with his forthcoming seventh album Pure Confusion, recorded and produced by On-U-Sound’s Adrian Sherwood.

Ayisoba is one of Ghana’s most distinctive musical voices. The world’s foremost player of the kologo - a homemade two-string lute fashioned from a calabash and covered in goatskin - he delivers fiercely political and socially observant songs using three different voices, including the voice of his grandfather that possessed him as a child. Sherwood meanwhile is the pioneering British producer and founder of On-U Sound whose hugely influential career has connected dub, post-punk, industrial, hip hop and experimental music through collaborations with artists including Lee “Scratch” Perry, Mark Stewart, Horace Andy, Sinéad O’Connor, Nine Inch Nails and Depeche Mode.

Ayisoba and Sherwood first collaborated during a BBC Radio 3 Late Junction session at Maida Vale in 2017, organised by Ayisoba’s long-time collaborator Arnold de Boer/Zea of The Ex. The pair immediately connected, and during the pandemic, when Adrian’s long-time African Head Charge collaborator Bonjo Iyabinghi Noah was in Ghana looking for musicians to collaborate with Sherwood suggested Ayisoba, who eventually featured on two tracks on African Head Charge’s 2023 album A Trip To Bolgatanga (Bolgantanga is the region Ayisoba is from). Ayisoba then returned to the UK in late 2024 and travelled to Sherwood’s Ramsgate studio where the pair laid down the songs that would become Pure Confusion: “All the songs were already in my head,” says Ayisoba. “This album is all recorded live, over one afternoon. Adrian only plays live, and I like that. And he works hard - he doesn’t sleep. I woke up in the night and he was still working.”

“In my role producing it, I just let it roll to make a good vibe,” says Sherwood. “We recorded it completely live, did some programming and processing on some tracks, using dub techniques live on the mixing desk and adding some slick touches. We wanted the colours on the album to swing off what Ayisoba was doing, so we invited some friends to participate. Doug Wimbish (Sugar Hill Gang) arrived from America and lent his services playing bass on a couple of tracks; the wonderful Ivan Hussey (Celloman) played bass, keyboards and cello - cello is not really featured on African recordings so we thought it would be really cool to try it. I'd been working with Alex White (Fat White Family/Primal Scream) on my album (The Collapse of Everything) and so he added sax to a few tracks and I brought Alan Glenn down especially - Alan was in Little Axe but also Nine Below Zero and played in the Yardbirds – to add some mouth organ; Mark Bandola added a bit of flavour with his Juno, Ayisoba’s long-time Ghanian collaborator Ayuune Sule added some percussion and vocals and Matt Smith did some programming.”

“King Ayisoba is quite amazing, so unique,” Sherwood continues. “He’s got his own handmade instrument and three different voices - when you’re listening you think it’s three different people. He’s a breath of fresh air, full of love for the music which he wants to share with everybody. Some tracks we kept very straight and others we experimented with - adding dubby psychedelic little touches to trip you out a bit. The added production we did at On-U has given it a shine while still keeping it vibrant, live and spontaneous. I’m really proud of this record”.

On Pure Confusion, Ayisoba documents the anxieties, contradictions and changing social realities of contemporary Ghana. “Land is a problem for everyone,” says Ayisoba of the opening track “Property”. “If you don’t build on your land they will take it away. Plenty corruption in Ghana, plenty confusion. They sell the land to two, three, four people and then everybody fights.”

Elsewhere Ayisoba explores illness, spirituality and social stigma on “Bemba”, warning against hiding sickness out of shame or fear of “bad juju”: “People hide their sickness and the sickness kills them.” “Tewigiloge” reflects on cultural difference and open-mindedness encountered through world travel: “We will tour the whole world and we will see many things we may not like or understand… your eyes will see, but don’t talk - you have to be open-minded.”

Spirituality runs deeply throughout the album. Ayisoba’s grandfather was a respected spiritual healer whose presence the musician says still guides him today. “The grandparents’ spirits are the ones you can contact,” he explains of the spiritual chant “Nkaase”. “This song talks about the forefathers.” The closing track “Leeda-Mampanga (It’s Not My Strength)” acts as a statement of humility and gratitude: “You have to be humble, even if you have talent. God gives you the power.”

For more than two decades, King Ayisoba has been one of Africa’s most distinctive musical innovators, transforming northern Ghanaian kologo traditions into a bold contemporary sound rooted in hypnotic rhythms, social commentary and spiritual intensity. Since the breakthrough success of 2006’s Modern Ghanaians, Ayisoba has built an international following through acclaimed albums, relentless touring and collaborations with artists including Lee “Scratch” Perry, Orlando Julius and African Head Charge. Performances at Roskilde, WOMAD, Le Guess Who? and the Barbican have further cemented his reputation as a singular live performer and cultural force.

Could it be that the world is finally ready for the tempestuous folk-rock opera that is "All the Leaves are Gone?" In 2004, only the truly informed and forward-thinking heads "got" this mini masterpiece. Critics scratched their heads and usually resorted to comparisons of past artists, like ol Grace Slick and her Great Jefferson Society, Fairport Convention (but which era? SURELY Judy Dyble's early reign?), and at best, Shirley Collins. A few fans attempted to connect the record to even more obscure "freak folk/rock" like Mellow Candle, Fear Itself, or Trees. "All the Leaves are Gone" was made by unique personalities not concerned with influences or copying any bygone era. Surely, some things are in our DNA or even early childhood, as Josephine Foster's roots in opera manifest themselves as much as any other influence in this organic song cycle. Sure, guitarist Brian Goodman may have heard Richard Thompson before, but his alchemical and molten guitar spray is purely his own, in tunings and intervals still not meant for normal humans to understand, mostly because his 2004 guts were poured into every sublime note (I think even Brian himself never even understood how good he was). That fiery emotion is also in every nuance of Foster's songs--like life, there's disquieting, jagged moments of unease, and there's calm both before and after the storm. There are moments of utter gentleness along the journey---because yes, every concept album should be a voyage, and this is one everyone should take. - Steve Krakow.

Remastered limited edition double vinyl with double-sided screenprinted poster-cover (sleeve folds out to be one huge poster). A real collectors item!

When Off Off came out around June 1984, one couldn’t speak of an independent music scene in Portugal. Warm Records’ vague existence didn’t have any impact and Dansa do Som’s inaugural release appeared only in December. 10 years after the revolution, after two IMF interventions, a lot of political instability (not to say turmoil, in the first couple of years) and the natural excesses of a sudden burst of freedom, the Portuguese consumer had more choices but a generally poor standard of living. There was no entrepreneurial culture and serious second thoughts about investing private money in risky ventures.

After many complaints about the whole music scene (institutions, critics and record label executives, popular and classical music alike), something that would continue well beyond the end of the decade, Telectu decided to finance, record, produce, release and sell an album with complete independence from outside structures. Their karmic reward was profit. According to Vítor Rua, Off Off was the only album fully payed by the duo and the only one that really payed off. Not an easy accomplishment for a double LP housed in a large (also double-sided) screenprint with complicated cuts and folds. The artwork was conceived by António Palolo, a friend and multidisciplinary artist. It was based on a collage of heavily saturated and xeroxed polaroids framed in shocking pink and green. Palolo was considered the third member of Telectu, regularly producing slides, video and other visual support for their shows. The inspiration for the type of cover came from GRM’s Gramme series.

Off Off is divided in four distinct sides, each one corresponding to a “theme” or “function” related to Telectu’s manifold artistic interests and interactions. The titles are also gateways to influences and a small portion of Portuguese cultural life:

- Side 1 / “Diagonale” is dedicated to Egídio Álvaro, art critic and gallery director (he opened Diagonale in Paris). Performance art was arguably his main artistic concern over the years, so the music on this side is suggested for use by one or more performers in live or playback situations. The three tracks segue into each other, linked by a synth arpeggio much in the same way as Telectu’s previous “Belzebu” álbum (1983);

- Side 2 / “Anarké” is dedicated to the composer Filipe Pires, one of Jorge Lima Barreto’s recurring invocations when asked about worthwhile contemporary music in Portugal. It is subtitled “concert music”, proposing «a new form of listening». Three tracks also, and these are separated by “clap interludes”, which basically consisted in the following: JLB and VR each had a pair of headphones on, and they clapped their hands according to the rhythm of the music each one was listening. Both musicians were interacting with a different Steve Reich piece: Vítor with “Music for Mallet Instruments”, Jorge with “Six Pianos”. The result is disjointed clapping, an awkwardly deliberate celebration of their own music. Telectu applauded themselves.

- Side 3 / “Cornucópia” is subtitled “music for theatre” and dedicated to Luís Miguel Cintra and Luís Lima Barreto (JLB’s brother), both connected to the Cornucópia theatre company. The side consists of several short pieces previously used as interludes in the Cornucópia staging of “Mariana Espera Casamento” (1983). Field recordings, mood pieces, ambience and a numeric poem (“Soneto Soma 14x”, by E.M. de Melo e Castro) read by João Perry, a quite well-known stage actor. His voice is treated with a flanger effect;

- Side 4 / “Palolo” is “video music”. It’s a one-take mix recorded from cassette sources (Telectu studio experiences) and done live while watching António Palolo’s Om film (1978) projected on the living room wall. It’s a deep, immersive, quasi-mystical 20-minute piece perfectly suiting the meditative, abstract, fluid images created by Palolo by mixing paint and water inside a bathtub. One imagines the Cosmos, hardly suspecting the technique. The film is 90 minutes long, so the music on the LP is of course edited.

The six titles on sides 1 and 2 evoke demons, all of them with conflicting symbolism, since it varies from culture to culture, religion to religion. No explanation is given and Vítor Rua has no idea where this imagery comes from. During virtually the whole stretch of the 1980s, Jorge was the one in charge of titles and concepts, and Vítor didn’t bother too much even reading the liner notes :) In any case, when you synchronize the listening experience with the imagery, a powerful impression emerges, a feeling of being in the presence of these entities while placing yourself inside the sonic narrative.

Off Off is undoubtedly a seminal album in the history of electronic music, as much Heldon as Fripp & Eno, jazz and American minimalism, cosmic out-thereness, mantric miniatures. Telectu at the height of their powers, still very early on, delivering an album-manifesto advocating intermedia art and the fierce independence of Portuguese musicians «from the scum of capitalist music industry monopolies. It’s a path to follow, albeit one that requires enduring hardships and retaliation from music industry gangsters.» Despite a few journalists deemed «capable of being free», the media are «enslaved by the dominant and fascist imbecility of the speculators of light music.» Off Off is addressed to those journalists «and to an audience angry at the cultural misery imposed upon us ..., certain that this music will open new horizons of musical pleasure in the conception of Portuguese avant-garde music, and in the open consciousness of us all. OFF OFF repeats Freedom.»

Those two words are a direct lift from Alberto Arbasino’s 1968 book Off Off, the basis of which is a critical analysis of Theodor Adorno’s and Dwight MacDonald’s ideas concerning the stratification of culture in different levels (high, mid and low) and the pervasiveness of mass culture in the form of a culture industry. In very simplistic terms, and that is precisely the point that inspired Jorge, Arbasino argued that it was possible and desirable to effect a revolution from below, cultivating alternative circuits completely cut-off from what he termed the in-in reality. Telectu’s record was a deliberate demonstration that it could be done, displaying Freedom in the face of all the gatekeepers and other human obstacles.

IMPRESS!VE Collective & BBE Music present: Terry Callier – Live Peace. There was no one quite like Terry Callier, and Live Peace captures the rare magic of his live performances in their most intimate and spiritual form. Recorded live in Leeds in the late 1990s and early 2000s at shows run by Lubi Jovanovich & Gip Dammone of The DIG! Family, this release documents an artist whose music transcended genre, era, and expectation, offering truth, compassion, and deep emotional connection rather than spectacle. Recorded live by renowned sound engineer Martin Dixon at The Yardbird Suite / The Underground in Leeds in 1998 and 2001), these performances feature Terry alongside his hand-picked ‘Family Band’; which included legendary guitarist Jim Mullen, Chris Kibble on keys and famed percussionist Bosco D’Oliveira. Painstakingly restored from the only surviving source using modern AI-assisted audio tools, the aim was never to polish away the grain, but to let Terry’s voice, message, and band shine once more. Sparse, soulful, and profoundly human, the recordings preserve the immediacy of nights where packed rooms fell into pin-drop silence, hanging on every word and note. From the aching beauty of “What Colour Is Love” to the cinematic power of “Lazarus Man,” this album reminds us what a master storyteller and spiritual presence Terry Callier was. Live Peace stands as a powerful reminder of why Terry Callier remains one of music’s most revered and influential voices, whose songs of love, justice, and humanity resonate as strongly now as ever. This project is fully endorsed by Terry's daughter Sunny Callier - and the cover photo and sleeve images are all suitably also previously unseen visual treasures.

From Berlin to Lagos: Jembaa Groove expand their sound on "Be A Lover"

Berlin-based outfit Jembaa Groove return with "Be A Lover", a four-track EP set for full release on 18 September via global soul imprint Agogo Records. Following two critically acclaimed albums and an intensive period of touring across Europe and the US — including a SXSW showcase and a widely acclaimed KEXP session — this latest release marks a new chapter in the band’s trajectory. Built around highlife rhythms and shaped by Afro-jazz and the more organic edges of Afrobeats, "Be A Lover" unfolds with a warm, languid and deeply soulful feel, capturing different strands of today’s multifaceted Afrofusion scene.

Here, the band strips back from a seven-piece ensemble to its two founding members, while at the same time opening outward into a deeply collaborative space. At its centre is a close creative partnership with celebrated Nigerian highlife revivalists The Cavemen., alongside contributions from London-based, Nigerian born soul artist Azekel, Lagos vocalist Tim Lyre, and Malian icon Fatoumata Diawara.

“This record has a different flavour,” says Owusu. “It’s really about collaboration — different feelings, different thoughts, different energies coming together.” While centred around the Lagos contemporary scene, the record is shaped by a wider diasporic network stretching across London, Lagos, Berlin and Amsterdam, cities producer and bass player Yannick Nolting describes as “the pillars where everything that is happening in today’s highlife and Afro-fusion scene.”

Formed in Berlin in 2020, Jembaa Groove began after a chance meeting between bassist, producer and composer Yannick Nolting and percussionist, vocalist and songwriter Eric Owusu. Drawing on their respective musical journeys — Nolting’s years working with Lusophone artists in Lisbon and Owusu’s deep roots in Ghana’s highlife tradition, including work with Pat Thomas and late highlife legend Ebo Taylor — the project quickly took shape: their debut album Susuma established a powerful, poly-rhythmic sound grounded in highlife, jazz and soul, while 2024’s "Ye Ankasa | We Ourselves" expanded that vision through collaborations with artists across Ghana and its diaspora, including UK based Ghanaian singer, rapper, percussionist, and arranger K.O.G and legendary Ghanaian highlife musician Gyedu-Blay Ambolley.

The collaborative spirit continues on "Be A Lover", most of which grew out of a meeting with sibling duo The Cavemen. at Supersonic Jazz Festival in Amsterdam in 2023, leading to a sustained exchange of ideas between Berlin and Lagos. With two acclaimed albums behind them, The Cavemen. have emerged as central figures in both Lagos’ alternative music scene and the wider contemporary highlife revival, bringing the genre to a new generation through a stripped-back, melody-driven sound. “There was some kind of magnetism towards Lagos,” says Nolting; for Owusu, who is Ghanaian but spent much of his life in Nigeria, the connection runs even deeper. “I feel lucky to be able to bring different cultures together and make something really beautiful,” he says. A key part of that process was a close working exchange between Nolting and The Cavemen.’s Kingsley Okorie, who effectively stepped into a co-producing role on three out of four of the tracks.

The one exception is opener No Pain No Gain, which features Nigerian-born, East London-based Azekel, whose smooth, R&B-leaning vocal moves through a slow-burning arrangement of bright keys, gently rising horns and atmospheric synths, anchored by Owusu’s organic percussion.

The title track Be A Lover, featuring Afro-fusion Lagos artist Tim Lyre, distills the EP’s central message into its most immediate form. Backed by syncopated percussion and a gently smouldering arrangement, Lyre’s voice moves with a laid-back, melodic ease, delivering a simple refrain: “be a lover, not a fighter.” “It’s a very simple message,” says Nolting, “It’s about showing more love, on a personal level but also more broadly… just show love.” That same sense of warmth runs throughout the record, reflecting its core idea.

On Obi, The Cavemen. take centre stage, with Kingsley Okorie leading through melancholic, plaintive vocals rooted in classic highlife. In contrast, his brother Benjamin James punctuates the track with high-pitched vocal interjections, heightening the emotional tension against a backdrop of slow, restrained instrumentation.

Waka follows with a more melodic, hook-led refrain from Eric Owusu, whose loose, almost conversational delivery creates a striking contrast with Fatoumata Diawara’s unmistakably powerful, raspy vocal. The collaboration grew out of a chance meeting while Owusu was on tour, with ideas exchanged quickly and Diawara returning a finished vocal within days. “We are so proud to have her. It’s a privilege” says Owusu. "Be A Lover" is a record shaped by connections like these — between people, scenes, and cities. “It was partly intention, partly destiny,” says Nolting. “We met these people along the way, and somehow Lagos was meant to come into our path.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Clear Vinyl


Her sound remains vast and yearning, with gut-punch drums pushing through explosions of colored powder; her voice is a chrome-plated sigh, and her agile melodies soar effortlessly. - Pitchfork *BEST NEW MUSIC*
she achieves some serious cinematic grandeur. - Stereogum
Simply too sublimely crafted to ignore. - Consequence of Sound
A catchy ethereal piece of pop - Brooklyn Vegan
Rose's layered, reverb-laden vocals hit like waves of sunlight, warming her lines almost to the point of wordlessness. - Paste Magazine


"Hila. A record about loss. What persists beyond the range of ordinary perception? The place mourning keeps returning to - not quite transcendence, not quite doubt. The edge of what we can see."
Frankie Rose has spent fifteen years building one of the most quietly distinctive bodies of work in American independent music. Bursting out of the shackles of her legacy on 2024's Love As Projection, 2026's Hila builds on the muscular, dance-ready songwriting and transcendent melodies to result on Rose's most exploratory and affecting record of her career. Imbued with yearning melodies and brooding post-punk dynamics, Hila is Frankie Rose at her most impressionistic and expansive.

Self-produced at her home studio featuring collaborations with drummer Justin Welch (Elastica/Lush), Hila was recorded following extensive touring with The Jesus & Mary Chain and Swervedriver. The result is the most confident, searching music Rose has produced; muscular in its production yet emotionally vulnerable in its diffracted neon glow. A record informed by loss and the way grief mutates our senses, it's fitting that Rose channels the nuanced darkness of later Coil, at times the pounding EBM-production of Skinny Puppy and the near-spiritual alien-ness of Cocteau Twins. On Hila, the doors of perception are constantly melting, revealing the porous nature of the seen and unseen. The result is a synesthesia that flips the senses.

If Love As Projection was an outward-looking record looking to embrace the world, Hila brings the dark cosmos into inner space. Rose's love for 80s production and soaring melodies remain, they're cornerstones to her craft after all, but there's something more assured and gothic underneath the massive waves of sound. Opener Olo shimmers into a pulsating, cinematic brooder, Rose's vocal transcending and swan diving between registers in the chorus breakdowns. First single Cant Be Wrong serves as a transition from the optimistic pop of Rose's previous album, introducing a thumping 80s funk rhythm track under the soaring vocal performance. The ebullient Shadow Twin is that song's sibling, recalling major label-era Strawberry Switchblade melancholy mixed with Robin Guthrie's twinkling guitar work.

Hila blossoms darkly from here on in, blowing out into a glacial wide-screen sonic dynamic. On Rainman and the title track the listener is transported to a rain-soaked, nocturnal cityscape ridden with desire, moonlight cutting through blinds, intoxicating chasms without bounds. Rose's use of saxophone and digital synthesis recalls the nightmusic of Hats-era Blue Nile or the more ambient end of Emeralds' catalog. Indeed, in the towering synthetic cello sounds that climb into the mind on Hila, there's a distinct flavour of the instrumentals on Bowie's Low. This is musick to play in the dark, to light the way a little, just enough to trick the senses.
Leading into the strobe-filled haze, single Manifest pounds forward with a massive Industrial 4/4 beat and post-punk/goth musicality, an exercise in unlit ecstasy. For Best Of Times, the liberal saxophone passages feel like a suppressed, 80s Michael Mann soundtrack with Frankie Rose's effortless, melodic vocal performance probing, searching for connection. Navigating through the dry, iced landscape into a rising sun, closer Velvet Refrain flips the melancholy of the preceding passages. With a massive sound dripping with harmony, the clanging guitar and vocal duet feels they're sound-tracking an unexpected happy ending after bouts of darkness."

With Random Constraint Satisfaction Problems, the ever elusive and shape-shifting Thomas Bush offers up a new album of category scrambling song craft. Since earlier solo efforts like Old And Red (2018), Preludes (2022) and The Next 60 Years (2024), Bush—currently based in Malmö—has traced a digressive path that has proven him capable of everything from murky wobbling dirges to uptight head-bopping laments to crystalline synth chords that hang precariously in the air over your new favourite bass line. Like its title, the album's songs/tunes/opportunities for pleasure offer the listener further evidence of a sensibility that is equal parts ambiguity and clarity.

In addition to his solo work, Bush has worked with a range of collaborators in one-off configurations and longer term projects like RAP (with Guy Gormley) and cATHOLIC CHURGH (with Jon Auman). Critical responses to Bush's output have often focused on his predilection for certain folk-ish impulses and instrumentation, but, judging from releases like 2026's guld, his definition of "folk music" seems to have as much to do with A Guy Called Gerald as it does with Shirley Collins or John Martyn.

For all of its diversity, what unites Bush's ever-expanding body of work is its dual commitment to experimentation and a job well done.

“Random Constraint Satisfaction Problems was recorded at Vista Studio 1, Malmö between 2022 and 2025. After creating an account at academia.edu for the purpose of reading a text now forgotten, I began to get emails asking me questions such as ‘Thomas Bush, did you write “Brucellosis and Sacroiliitis: A Common Presentation of an Uncommon Pathogen”?’ or ‘Are you the Thomas Bush who wrote “ATR-dependent phosphorylation of FANCA on serine 1449 after DNA damage is important for FA pathway function”?’, which began to make me wonder if I was, or if not, perhaps I should.

The resulting work is an attempt to find meaning in this, and other chaotic and ambiguous situations through analysis using materials and equipment available to hand. Being sensitive to signs and following them with enthusiasm. Both the source material and evaluation is presented.”

Liam Hayes is an acclaimed American musical artist known for his songwriting and uncompromising approach to making records. He started cassette multitracking while a preteen and made his first real studio recording at twenty one. This started an obsession that ultimately led to his releasing a 7” single (Found A Little Baby/Three Quarters Blind Eyes) on a small US indie label. Those tracks garnered the attention of the UK music press, and on the strength of those songs a career was launched. The follow up was highly anticipated by critics and listeners alike, but rather than playing to expectations he delivered a highly personal album of solo piano/vocal songs (More You Becomes You). Not one to repeat himself, Hayes started off the millennium by serving up the extravagant pop/soul opus (Fed). Both records are now considered to be masterpieces.

Hayes’ songs are recognised for their exquisite melodies, poetic lyrics and distinctive vocals. He’s released seven albums, two singles and a soundtrack, and applies his craftsmanship to a variety of genres from orchestrated pop to stripped down rock. Comparisons to Brian Wilson, Laura Nyro, Carole King, Harry Nilsson, Badfinger (and even Prince) are numerous. His music takes the best of radio and stellar classic pop records of the 60’s and 70’s and brings it into the present.

Along with making records Hayes has appeared on screen performing his music in High Fidelity (directed by Stephen Frears) and A Glimpse Inside the Mind of Charles Swan III(directed by Roman Coppola) which he also wrote the soundtrack for.

In this, their first production for Hayes, are (executive producer) Terrence Washington and (multi-instrumentalist/producer/arranger) Vincent Carlo with additional contributions from Terrence’s father, legendary arranger TOM TOM 2084 (Chi-Lites, Phil Collins, Plush).

His latest album, Dancing Backwards, sees Liam stepping through the shadows in his life and into a new musical day.

“I like to work with a variety of instruments and set ups,” says Mark Van Hoen, sometimes known as Locust or Autocreation but here working under his own name on the excellent Plan For A Miracle, his first physical release of solo music since 2018’s Invisible Threads. ”Sometimes it’s literally in my studio, with all the hardware electronics available. Sometimes the laptop, using software instruments. Some of the tracks on this record were recorded in the desert (Joshua Tree) using a 4-track tape machine and small modular synthesiser set up. Each track was recorded in different location using different instruments, which accounts for the distinction between each piece. It’s also about my own reaction to my environment, and what’s going on in my life at the time.”

The Croydon-born Van Hoen started musical life in the early 1990s, signing for R&S records in 1993 but developing his own, myriad and distinctive style across a range of releases on Touch, Editions Mego and other labels, using a battery of instruments, including analogue synthesizers and taking a number of different approaches to recording, rather than ploughing a single sonic furrow. He has worked on a number of collaborations, including with Nick Holton and Neil Halstead of Slowdive, under the moniker of Black Hearted Brother - their Stars Are Our Home was released in 2013. “I have known Neil Halstead since 1992,” says Van Hoen. “He shared a house with me for a couple of years, and the music I was making and listening to along with clubs I was attending had an influence particularly on Pygmalion, the final Slowdive album on Creation.”

Each track on Plan For A Miracle does indeed sound like a world unto itself, a mini-environment, a weather condition, an ecosystem created for the moment. It’s a collection of tracks recorded over the past few years, released on Bandcamp - despite his apparent absence, Van Hoen works constantly. Opener “Climates”, in its exquisite limpidity, feels like a homage to Brian Eno, one of his most formative influences in his teen years, commencing with Music For Films, which he bought in 1979. “This Is For Them”, feels like a ghostlike throwback to early drum & bass or electronica, reminiscent of his own, earliest outings. “There have been a number of requests from labels to make some more music like my very early releases on R&S,” says Van Hoen. “This is part of ‘letting go’ and realising that there’s nothing less creative about going back to those styles again.”

“Pencil Of Spheres” is something else again, a magnificent, imaginary glass structure, shimmering, refracting, without visible means of suspension, a thing of impossible beauty. “Electric Lights” evokes an abandoned fairground, its lights still pulsating, its music lingering. “The Underpass”, meanwhile, insofar as it reminds of anything at all, is faintly reminiscent of Cluster or Neu’s! West German ambience, the urban mundane rendered magical, the sodium lights, the whitewashed walls. The reverberant, faintly oriental chimes of “Insight” transport us yet again, burgeoning and intensifying.

The landscapes, the skyscapes rendered on Plan For A Miracle feel unpopulated as a rule - but when he does introduce vocal elements, Van Hoen has a history of doing so to spectacular effect - think of “Real Love” from 1998’s Playing With Time, the seductive intonation of its title recurring throughout like a series of massive holograms, echoing, stuttering, breaking up, surging. Here, there are just the faintest of vocals, barely distinct, disquieting. “There’s been a bit of a game changer in recent times,” explains Van Hoen. “AI software that enables you to extract vocals and instrument parts from virtually any recording. That means sampling individual parts from existing sources is no longer limited to the original mix exposing certain parts soloed. The vocal parts I use are from multiple sources and often pitch shifted altered rhythmically and melodically.“ There’s further vocal chatter on “I Really Do”, proceeding at a faster pace as if giving chase, or being pursued - distant, enigmatic. “The Music”, meanwhile, its beat tolling, lost in its own fog of static, features a curious intonation, like the ghost of a lost Walker Brother.

Sadly, the album’s title is in reference to a personal tragedy on Van Hoen’s part - the loss of his wife. Titles such as “I Won’t Give Up”, which faintly reminds of another Eno masterpiece, Another Green World, in its nautical hurly-bury, or the pastoral strains of “Mrs Who”, heavily clouded with sadness, seem to allude to this. “In fact the record was recorded entirely before she passed away,” says Van Hoen, “most of it before she even became very ill. The title was given to the album when it started to look like she wasn’t going to make it beyond a few months. It was something Osho said - “plan for a miracle” - so it was a statement of hope. Unfortunately it was not to be.” Although the album is non-thematic, non-specific in its atmospheres, sound paintings, elegant structures it most certainly stands as a magnificent monument to Osho’s memory.

-David Stubbs.

In 2001, Shin’ichi Ogawa of Sugar Plant was working for the SAL Disc record label and came up with the idea of doing an E2-E4 tribute album with his friends. This album would come off the back of a Neil Young tribute album which might have seemed odd but these two artists, Neil Young and Ashra (Manuel Göttsching), would be played regularly as equals at after-parties that Shini’ichi would throw at his house. Longtime friend and collaborator, Taro Yoda, noted that the eclecticism of these after-parties were influenced by the variety of parties they were attending at the time, from the legendary Japanese open-air rave party Life Force to Cream at Amnesia in Ibiza. Taro was obsessed with European trance and left-field downtempo while the two members of Sugar Plant were into ’70s soul—especially Marvin Gaye and William DeVaughn and at the same time, they were listening to Phish and the Grateful Dead too. All three of them were of course inspired by the DJ’ing and selections of Larry Levan.

A- Side – Sugar Plant – “Just Be There” – Production began in my home studio. Since I was frequently attending a house party called “Life Force” (with DJ Nick the Record as the resident DJ) at the time, I thought deep house would be the perfect style for a Sugar Plant cover.
I looped a two-chord electric piano track and applied filters using plugins and outboard gear to create a “sound I could listen to forever.” I recorded the bass on guitar and converted it to an analog synth (Doepfer MS-404).

From there, I layered synths improvisationally, listening to the track over and over again to make fine adjustments. I think I worked on it for days, mostly late at night.
I recorded the guitar at the very end of the track. After playing it a few times ad lib without any set plan, I suddenly had the idea to add vocals during the bridge, so I set up a mic in my hallway and recorded them.

I think this track is packed with the emotions I felt when listening to “E2-E4” back then, as well as the vibe I experienced at that party. – Shin’ichi Ogawa

There is a pivotal scene in “August in the Water” (dir. Sōgo Ishii, 1995) where the surface of a pool turns into a stone wall. The water that gave the protagonist's life its meaning becomes a threat. As you fall through this stone wall, you appear in a set of underwater coral-reef corridors, and one of the most beautiful musical themes begins to play: Aquatic Ambience, composed by David Wise for Donkey Kong Country (1994). It's a theme that represents the weightless vibe of your new deep-sea life, where you go about your mundane errands, collecting bananas while driving on a swordfish, or, as HerzMayhem put it: "Poor monkey... always swimming, never going anywhere..."

Synthetic Water Music is the second of three compilations, following Synthetic Bird Music and timed to mappa's 10th anniversary. As with the birds, it gathers friends of the label, artists who have released with mappa or played our shows. Most of the music is new, made to measure for this compilation, much of it from Central and Eastern European hands. Birds and water mix well, so please feel invited to play them together, creating your own environments.

Where the birds were in one flock, water is dispersed across four chapters. You live your life as a droppity drop: vapour in the heavens, condensing in clouds, falling into a swamp, trickling into the deepest sea.

Tlālōcān (Cassette 1, Side A)
A place of eternal spring, of aquatic energy that nourishes everything and allows all things to bloom. Bubbly and splishy-sploshy, it is full of dripping sounds and moist caverns (“Emerald Pool” by Pauline Anna Strom), a landscape filled with living fountains (“Oh, to be a Fountain” by Eva Sajanová) and winding streams that flow through the area, forming part of its organic architecture. It is also a paradise reserved for those whose deaths were water-related, where the aquatic and terrestrial beings live in symbiosis and perspectives shift rapidly, from observing a single droplet (Shakali, Lau Nau) to dew (Feronia Wennborg & Lucy Duncombe) and on to flowing currents (Visible Cloaks) that gradually transform into river music (Ursula K. Le Guin & Todd Barton).

Nephelora (Cassette 1, Side B)
A celestial anti-gravity sound world made of evaporation, steam and the formation of clouds, as if looking at “The Sky At The Bottom of the Well” (by Natalia Beylis) or at “The Cloud That Never Rains” (by Henrique Vaz).

If a cloud never rains,
it is not a cloud at all, but a veil that parches the earth with its gaze.
It generates only its own shadow —
a looming mass of suspended longing,
a sky that hoards but never yields,
a reservoir that swallows every river and returns nothing but echoes.

The water in this world is often invisible but sometimes all the more present, as Bint Mbareh describes it: “Recently been obsessed with invisible waters because I come from a place where you have to imagine the water is there even though you cannot see a river, a sea, usually no rain, so water is in the air, the voice and the imaginal realm, drought is imagined to be negotiable.”

Žaboglach Zha-bo-glahch (Cassette 2, Side A)
A fusion of Scottish lochs and Slovak ponds: a misty, foul-smelling, swampy realm, the kind of place that swallowed Artax from The NeverEnding Story. Stagnant waters full of decay become a blooming habitat for sirens (“thereby losing the weightless delight of being swept along with it” by Adam Badí Donoval) and beings straddling the line between fauna and flora, inventing their own communication systems (“Water-lily phase” by Action Pyramid).

R'lyeh (Cassette 2, Side B)
A brooding sunken city at the bottom of the ocean. It’s a journey to get there. Let this chapter guide you, from the shore down to the depths, to the gates of an unexplored world that is inherently dark, unfathomable, and beyond the limits of human perception: starting with seasickness ("Seasick" by Nikolaienko), passing through a classic Poe-esque maelstrom ("Flurry at the Whirl-pull" by Atte Elias Kantonen), a gateway into the darkness and emptiness of the ocean floor, and finally traversing the city itself (“last waves of 2025” by Jules Reidy).
But what is pulling you to a place like this that only a few explore and even fewer leave? Maybe “the darkness that water can contain, the expanse of things we don't know and that can trigger fear instincts even as we try to rationalise them and think we are in control of the rest of nature” (“supercritical fluids” by Diane Barbé).

Dive in and surface wherever you like. Always swimming, never going anywhere. Just don’t forget to take water breaks.

P.S. Birds, then water, can you guess what comes next? Synthetic Soil Music, an elegy for insects and worms? Synthetic Glaciers, or maybe Pollinators? Which sounds would you miss the most if they disappeared? Or what if the third one never comes at all, and somebody, or something, makes Synthetic mappa Music instead. Don't you worry, with the right training data, it can all be replicated, better than the real thing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

While the sterile “professionalism” of some heavy bands can be like a clinical drone strike, Texas-based Judiciary feels personal. Like close combat with a knife. And it’s all in their chemistry. Judiciary is an amalgamation of four guys raised in the intersection of metal and hardcore—all devoted to pushing their craft further. Across two esteemed LPs, the band has proven their worth as a crucial entity in the crowded heavy music scene by evolving their sound further and further with each release. And now with the band’s latest Stalagmite Angels, due on September 4th via the venerable Closed Casket Activities, Judiciary can further showcase their status as a crucial, one-of-a-kind part of the evolution of hardcore in 2026. Life changes can bring about chaos and seismic shifts, but if Stalagmite Angels is any indication, then it’s all for the better. In the wake of the release of Judiciary’s second LP Flesh + Blood, the band called upon Juan Vazquez to pick up guitar duties, thereby changing the internal framework of the band for good, and unknowingly for the better. It’s this pivot in personnel that resulted in the band’s latest EP. “The goal with this EP was a hard reset, but we also wanted to chill the f— out a bit, have fun, and do something that felt true to the four of us,” recalls drummer Austin Looney. “We wanted time to reconfigure things and let the music come naturally–temper this new mindset that we've adopted post-Flesh + Blood.” Judiciary’s greatest strength lies in their musical singularity. Though Stalagmite Angels represents the collision of influences from across well-worn territories like metallic hardcore, death metal, black metal, d-beat and more, it’s the Lubbock-born band’s approach that makes it distinctly their own. Stalagmite Angels is a wholly new document that resembles a horde of bands ranging from Hatebreed to Carcass to Slayer to Iron Age, yet never aping any single band nor even revealing any single influence. It’s all familiar but none of it is specific. “90s hardcore and hardcore in general is always gonna be our natural inclination, but it manifests with different elements not only from song to song but within each song,” says vocalist Jake Collinson emphatically, who learned guitar specifically to help with writing new material. “Whether that’s Dying Breed or Cannibal Corpse or Crowbar or Machine Head or any number of other influences that any one of us may have, it all manifests in our work, and through our individual and collective lenses. With this EP, we transformed those ideas into the Judiciary approach.” Stalagmite Angels is an EP about anger at the world, belief in yourself, and how harnessing both in the pursuit of growth is necessary to achieve. But furthermore, it’s a concept record that envisions a subterranean world in both a literal and metaphorical sense—where hidden beauty lurks in the shadows (and in the eye of the beholder) and where triumph manifests in the ability to rise from the depths and into the world above.

On her debut album Switchbacks, Nashville-based artist Hannah Cole finds inspiration in the image of the switchbacks – sinuous twists in the road that obscure what's ahead. For a young artist making her way in the music industry, it's a powerful image: we can't really know what's ahead for us but – as Cole has learned – you should honk your horn to tell the world you're coming, and otherwise just enjoy the ride. Melding shoegaze and alternative rock with infectious pop melodies and strains of 90s nostalgia, Switchbacks is a commentary on the pursuit of success and how to protect the pure joy and love that lives at our core.

Across the ten tracks of Switchbacks, Cole swings her gaze at many unsettling aspects of the scramble toward success. Lead single "MMA" explores the ugly side of the music industry through the image of Las Vegas. On the brightly off-kilter "Give," she sings, "I feel like I've become an actor, / A TV pastor / climbing up a topless ladder," explaining that "the pursuit of success can feel like buying lottery tickets all the time for money that you'll never see." "Mechanical Bull" seethes with rage as Cole grapples with being seen as just the "girlfriend" in music settings and not being perceived as an equal to her partner, while on "Pitcher," she's paralysed in the face of wanting to achieve perfection. Later, she shrugs off the need to impress on "100 Bucks," reminding herself that she's enough for the people she loves.

Switchbacks is not only a finely-crafted debut album but also a deeply human artifact, tracing an arc that blazes like a comet to the height of ambition and then leaves you in the shimmer of self-acceptance and contentment. "Success is a moment that comes and goes," Cole concludes, "but I think the joy and experience that comes with making music is something I can take with me forever."

“The first three are innocent in a way, because we didn’t have an audience when we were making them,” Oberst says. “But from Lifted on, I was definitely aware of an audience. Lifted was well-received right away, and then everything happened with Wide Awake and Digital Ash.” Those two albums came out simultaneously. And their lead singles – “Take It Easy (Love Nothing),” from the austere, remote Digital Ash, and “Lua,” from the warm, folky Wide Awake – debuted in the top two slots on the Billboard Hot 100. “First Day of My Life,” also from Wide Awake, would later be voted the Number One love song of all time by NPR Music’s reader’s poll. Bright Eyes had officially broken through. It was a heady, exciting time, but also fraught and tense, both because of the band’s careening new fame, and because of the state of the world. When Bright Eyes made their Tonight Show debut in 2006, they chose to perform none of their shiny new hits, instead delivering a searing, harrowing rendition of their caustic anti-Bush anthem, “When The President Talks To God.” These days, Oberst is still amusing himself by messing with the extremes Bright Eyes baked into this era’s releases, extremes that reflected the polar, with-us-or-against-us, fractious feel of the times. The reworked Digital Ash tracks, originally so clean and elegant, are, on the companion EP, full of “harmonica and mandolins – folky vibes,” Oberst says. While the analogue sweetness of the Wide Awake songs have been put through a detached nihilism filter.

More than 25 years after the start of collaboration with Acid Mothers Temple mastermind Makoto Kawabata (including the INUI series and the classic Kawabata/Youngs release) comes the first proper VHF LP by the prolific quintet. One of an occasional series of “minimalism” inspired LPs by the group, “In A Not C” is a not a barely changing drone, but a wild ride with the band in full flight, rushing along in a glorious swirl of psychedelic madness. Like the band’s well-known 2001 version of Terry Riley’s “In C,” the group uses a small cell of repeating sound as a jumping off point and then gradually revs up to maximum velocity. The current AMT lineup has produced a series of fun and unique variants on the band’s longstanding signatures, with the addition of vocalist/guitarist Jyonson Tsu and drummer Satoshima Nani providing a lightness and nimbleness of touch that resets the context of the band’s usual blazing electric guitar and burbling synth. Both sides here build to a multi-layered crescendo, with loops of Tsu’s gentle vocals competing with frenetic drums, whistling electronics, and guitar that alternates trebly feedback and soft arpeggios. Cut by Golden, pressed in Chicago at Smashed, first pressing on clear vinyl.

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

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

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

Tape

When Leon Michels and El Michels Affair released their rst record, Sounding Out The City, in 2005, it was hard to guess what was next for Michels and his then-introduced, now-patented "cinematic soul" sound. Now, four EMA studio albums and scores of tribute and remix projects later - all while producing for some of the biggest names in the industry - Michels has trademarked his sound, with each project taking audiences somewhere new and pushing the boundaries of what he is known for. The man is a river, not a lake and this time he takes his golden touch into the realm of hip-hop laying down a musical bed for one of the greatest to ever rhyme into a microphone: Black Thought of The Roots crew. Releasing on Big Crown Records, the LP is called Glorious Game and it is a remarkable debut partnership in more ways than one. Michels provides his bottom-heavy, soul-tinged production for Black Thought who gives us some of the more personal and transparent verses we've ever heard from him. Michels and Black Thought have been in each other's orbit for a while now. The two first met in the 2000s when Thought was first getting familiar with the contemporary soul scene. "Out of that whole world, Menahan Street Band was probably my favorite," recalling the funk and soul group Michels was a founding member of back in 2007. Fast forward a few years and musicians from that collective - Dave Guy on trumpet and Ian Hendrickson-Smith on sax - are now full time players with The Roots. This connection eventually led Leon and Thought to doing a few fundraising events around NYC and Philly together. "Before long, Black Thought was coming around the studio and would jam with us from time to time," Michels explains. "Then, fast forward to 2020 and COVID lockdowns, he just hit me up out of the blue, wanting me to send him stuff to write to. We both were looking to stay busy" Being that Black Thought is the co-founder and emcee for, hands down, the best live-band group in hip-hop. Michels took a decidedly different approach to this project and instead of sending recorded tracks of live compositions, he pulled out the sampler and sampled himself and some records from his collection. "I'm a big fan of soul music," as if Michels has to remind us. "And part of hip-hop's appeal to me has always been the sample-based production" For Glorious Game, Michels would make wholly composed and recorded soul songs in his studio, sample himself, then chop and/or loop up his sounds and create instrumentals for Black Thought. On some tracks he took a more traditional hip-hop approach, starting from samples of other people's music but then adding live instrumentation on top. But for the most part, it's him reinterpreting his own compositions into something new. The result is an organic feel of loop-based tracks that breathe and uctuate enough for Black Thought to ex on. "What I write about is determined by the equation of the producer's energy and my energy," Black Thought says. "It's about where we meet." So armed with Michels sampled and re-sampled soul cinematics, Black Thought rhymes through personal memories.

“Ruins are the style of our future cities, future cities are themselves ruins.” - Izosaki Arata

A note from Lawrence English: Nostalgia is not an ideology, though in this moment, we could be mistaken for thinking it might be just that. Over the past years, the idea of nostalgia has been filtered through various political and technological lenses and has become a tool used for forgetting, rather than remembering. Instead of embracing histories’ complexities and inconsistencies, this version of nostalgia seeks only singular recollection. This contemporary phenomenon of nostalgia has become a methodology at best, and a weapon at worst, used to erode the past and project forward a collapsed and unimaginably sanitised version of things, places, and ways of being from former times. It’s this projection that sees it playing a mounting role in a social pathology associated with reducing the imagined possibilities of future.

The Rest Is My Ghost is a record that interrogates the manifestations of this reductive futuring and celebrates those that have tried (and failed), and those who continue to push back against decayed and revisionist positions. It’s a record that considers the weaponisation of nostalgia for the purposes of cloaking possible futures.

In recent times, I’ve proposed a term for this weaponised use of nostalgia, something I have called Acid Nostalgia. I offer it as a shorthand to describe the de-contouring of the future through a corrosive fixation on a flatten rendering of the preceding times. It is, in part, a certain type of lazy cultural scripting where tropes of the past are presented in the absolute, as empty pictorials; photocopies without any original from which to draw actual meaning, or useful detail.

Acid Nostalgia describes an increasingly common political projection of nostalgia that exists without any subjective connection to the memory surrounding and contained within it. Like acid poured onto a surface, this use of nostalgia seeks to erodes and smooth out the complexity and texture of lived connection and longing, which has until recently guided contemplations of nostalgia. Acid Nostalgia instead erases the texture of histories and de-contours the past, and in doing so dematerialises the horizon of possibility, which by its very nature marks the beginning point for any (and all) imaginable futures. Acid Nostalgia is a dreamless screen, where uncertainty, restlessness and aspiration are subjected to corrosion, breaking down and neutralising the wellspring of futures which are birthed from within the ambiguously charged, complex and at times chaotic atmospheres of the present.

The Rest Is My Ghost is not however some universal reading of these things and happenings. Rather it draws its breath from a very personal pathway carved through my own fraught experiences of nostalgia and framed through a disparate collage of chance encounters, situations, places and provocations. It takes oblique notes from civic and architectural references such as Japan’s Metabolist movement, Hong Kong’s ‘one line sky’ and Los Angeles’s vanished Sodium Vapour lights. It interpolates texts – factual and fictional – by authors such as Franco Berardi, Kate Crawford, JG Ballard, Katsuhiro Otomo, Mark Fisher and Alexei Yurchak who have each so wonderfully sought to rupture the familiarity of now, and push us towards other ways of imaging ourselves, our surroundings and our very ways of being in this world.

I also owe a debt of thanks to Adam Curtis in helping launch what has become this edition. It was his provocation, in a conversation we shared about an overwhelming and profound sense of uncertainty around being able to predict the immediate future and how to respond to that, which sparked the earliest inklings of this edition.

The Rest Is My Ghost is ultimately a record about the promise of constructions and connections to come, material, social and political. It's a record that accepts the fragility of failure as a source of ultimate potential, and a position from which the deepest freedom of imagination might be sought and summoned forth to conjure even the most unimaginable, (but) possible futures.

BUCHLA MEETS ORCHESTRA IN QUADRAPHONIC SPACE ON CIANI/ORKEST

Suzanne Ciani, Metropole Orkest and Simon Dobson release historic immersive performance in multiple immersive formats including quad vinyl.

Silverlake, CA \\ June 4, 2026 – Electronic music pioneer and five-time Grammy nominee Suzanne Ciani joins the internationally acclaimed Metropole Orkest, conducted by Simon Dobson, for the release of CIANI/ORKEST, a landmark live album composed entirely of new work, created specifically for this unprecedented collaboration.

Recorded at Amsterdam Dance Event (ADE) before a rapt audience, CIANI/ORKEST is not a retrospective. It is a bold, immersive meeting of the Buchla electronic instrument and 50-piece orchestral sound. The result is a sweeping sonic landscape, at once intimate and monumental.

Under the direction of the Metropole Orkest, renowned for its genre-defying collaborations with artists from jazz to contemporary classical - strings shimmer, brass swells and woodwinds echo the organic, fluid qualities that have always defined Ciani’s sound. “This project feels like a homecoming,” says Ciani. “The Buchla was always orchestral to me, an instrument capable of infinite color. Hearing those colors unfold through the Metropole Orkest has been profoundly moving.”

At the heart of CIANI/ORKEST lies Ciani’s lifelong commitment to quadraphonic sound. From her early Buchla performances in the late 1960s to her 2018 release LIVE Quadraphonic, Ciani has treated space as a primary compositional parameter. Working alongside immersive producer KamranV, Ciani continues to explore immersive sound as both artistic and human gesture. Kamran’s decades of work in spatial formats, converge here in service of a singular goal: to let sound behave as it does in the physical world. “For both of us, quad is musical,” Kamran notes. “The way Suzanne works, quadraphonic is nested in — not the technology per se — but the intent you bring to the work.”

The recording stands as a meditation on legacy, evolution, and the enduring dialogue between technology and human expression. The live album captures the electricity of performance, the immediacy of touch plates under Ciani’s hands, the collective of musicians responding in real time, and the audience’s shared immersion in quadraphonic-inspired space.

CIANI/ORKEST is released by Atmospheric/AKP Recordings/CyKiK in multiple double-disc quadraphonic 12” Record packages designed by grammy-nominated designer Rebeka Arce. Each pressing is made regionally to minimize carbon emissions and also contributes to nature via Brian Eno's EarthPercent, the music industry's climate and nature foundation.

The release is encoded using the dublab Quadraphonic Universally Accessible Resource Kit (QUARK). QUARK enables binaural listening via standard 2-channel playback or 4-speaker playback via Involve Audio hardware decoders, vintage Regular Matrix quadraphonic receivers, Dolby Pro-Logic II/Dolby Surround Upmixer (DSU) receivers, or any multi-channel audio interface equipped computer. This album is immersive via all formats: digital download, streaming (Qobuz, Spotify, SoundCloud, Bandcamp), radio broadcast, vinyl and high-resolution Dolby Atmos (Apple Music, Tidal, Amazon HD, IIA), Sony 360RA (Nugs, Amazon HD) and Eclipsa Audio (YouTube).

About Suzanne Ciani
Suzanne Ciani is a composer, pianist, sound designer, and electronic music pioneer whose work spans experimental, new age, classical, and cinematic sound. A five-time Grammy nominee and recipient of the Moog Innovation Award, she continues to perform internationally, captivating audiences with immersive modular synthesis performances.

About Metropole Orkest
Based in the Netherlands, the Metropole Orkest is one of the world’s leading genre-crossing orchestras, known for collaborations with artists including Brian Eno, Herbie Hancock, Snarky Puppy, Jacob Collier, and within contemporary classical and electronic spheres.

Manonmars’ 3rd album sees him at his most amorphous and psychedelic, at points sharper and laser focused, and at others more blurred and impressionistic than his previous records. Many of the core players remain the same, all of the production is once again handled by O$VMV$M (the duo of Neek and Amos Childs of Jabu) while Paulina Korobkiewicz (also of Young Echo) makes a return handling both the album’s cover artwork and contributing a series of diaristic field recordings and voice notes.

‘The project references movies, cartoons, fictional characters and video games, among other things. The album title is open to interpretation but all of these elements are forms of visual entertainment which have their own unique ability to transcend things like language barriers and cultural divides. The visual element is key because those details bridge the gap on a communicative level.’ - Manonmars

The album blends abstract, blurred braggadocio with more immediate personal details such as on ‘Volcanic Shield’ a posse cut of sorts featuring Bristol improv luminary Dali de Saint Paul and Franco Franco (½ of cyborg rap duo Kinlaw & Franco Franco) - where Mars recalls;

‘Memories of brighter days, happy meal hit the spot
Mum was spinning vinyl playing Super Ape or Pressure Drop
I would spend the weekend with the Turkish mandem on the block
single parent household, mum was studying or on the job
money came and went always was an on and off
made it back from school time to see what’s on the box’


The beat fades away to leave one of Korobkiewicz’s recordings of Mars’ mum talking about her life in London in the 80s, spending her money on reggae records as an ambient chord fades in like an echo of a jungle intro – stretching out as a link between generations of UK music.

The production by and large is brighter and more kinetic than earlier Manonmars records – with O$VMV$M drawing on everything from modern underground rap and drill through to jazz and acid ambient passages.

London is also a central character here, bustling and constantly shifting, either when bleeding in through field recordings, or as an ever-present backdrop in the lyrics;

‘I’m a fusion of Tippa Irie and Topper Harley
Hit the target like the black Atari
I dropped a tab now shit’s A Scanner Darkly
Got the munchies, Imma yam a sarnie
Pour the Wray and Ting like man at Carni
Exit Peckham Rye and turn left, walk past Hannah Barry
Get your (w)raps up like its January’

‘I've always considered London my home, despite spending some time in the South West of England too. My mum had been living in London for 25 years (...) That was a pretty big deal in some ways because it removed us from multicultural society during the period which overlapped with my teenage years. (...) I never got used to how quiet it was in the countryside (...) Bristol was the closest city to where we lived and it was through travelling there and making connections that I became involved in making music and playing gigs.’ - Manonmars

Mars’ practice as a painter (under his given name Jack Martyn Richardson) and photographer also loom heavy over the album, he cites Paul Verhoeven, Abdul Mati Klariwein and H.R Giger as influences – as well as Miles Davis, Drakeo the Ruler and DJ Rashad.

As with much of Richardson’s work the raps at times feel blurred to a point of almost inscrutability, creating a distance between the audience and himself. A process that ties into his visual work and the way he experiences the world as mainly abstract colour without his glasses. He explores this further in an ongoing visual collaboration with Korobkiewicz, ‘Fun and Games’ which serves as a visual archive of one of London's largest and oldest travelling fairgrounds.

‘I was diagnosed with very severe short-sightedness at the age of seven. I remember my early formative years as visually blurred. Some of my photography reflects this experience of partial vision and uncertainty, referencing memory and perception rather than fixed representation.’

Manonmars’ first public outing as a rapper was at a Young Echo radio event, broadcast shambolically from a practice room just off Jamaica street, Bristol in 2011, as much as things have moved on both stylistically and in terms of focus - strong links back to the city remain a key foundation throughout the collaborations and guest appearances.

‘I have no problem with being an outsider looking in. One of the things I enjoy about London is the anonymity (...) it's easy to be a stranger here when so much is happening. I feel like thats more valuable than people may realise.’

LIMITED THIRD PRESS. 300 ONLY CLEAR VINYL WITH RED BLOOD SPLATTER, HOUSED IN A RED AND METALLIC SILVER SLEEVE.

The Swedish underground legends return with a brand new album. Let this reddit user take over …
“Listening to Brainbombs has been one of my weirdest experiences with music. Brainbombs are most definitely a band. I guess at the core they’re a hardcore punk/noise rock hybrid I guess? But… It's so unlike anything I’ve ever heard and I still don’t know if it's good or bad. I saw the edgelord Ed Gein album cover, and it intrigued me, so I listened to their biggest song and it was easily THE WORST thing I had EVER FUCKING HEARD. I shut it off as soon as it got to the vocals. I was shocked by the fact that it had almost a half million streams. But, a few hours later, I clicked on it again and didn’t know why.
Over the past few days, I’ve listened to all of their discography and looped a lot of it. And I don’t even think I like them. The music is abysmal, it's the same single riff and verse repeating for 5 minutes. To make it worse, the vocals are just a guy with a swedish accent awkwardly talking about murder and rape. That sounds awful right? It is awful. But at the same time I want to keep listening? It’s so childishly edgy and obnoxiously repetitive but so.. intriguing? Catchy? I’m not even sure. It's one of if not the weirdest experience I’ve ever had with music and I don’t know how to feel about it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

John Tchicai (1936 – 2012) was one of the most important free improvising saxophonists of the 20th Century: an artist of rare vision and aptitude whose lines soared and stood out even in the most hallowed company, and whose body of work as a leader / composer is among the most singular and distinct within the entire canon of that music. But Tchicai’s importance doesn’t end there. Born in Copenhagen, Denmark, to a Danish mother and a Congolese father, his life and career represent a crucial bridge between the European and American traditions of free jazz. Initially trained on violin as a child, Tchicai shifted his focus to the clarinet and alto saxophone during his mid-teens, and began touring Europe as a professional musician by his early 20s, which landed him at a socialist youth festival in Helsinki, Finland, where he met the trumpeter Bill Dixon and saxophonist Archie Shepp. Impressed by what they heard, Dixon and Shepp encouraged the young saxophonist to move to New York, and in so doing changed the history of jazz forever.

Tchicai’s arrival in New York marks the rare occurrence of a European player joining the intimate circle that was first wave of American free jazz. Following his landing in the city in November of 1962, in addition to regularly sitting in with Don Cherry’s group, Tchicai began playing with Bill Dixon's band alongside Archie Shepp and Roswell Rudd, forming the nucleus of the foundation of the New York Contemporary Five - one of the most important groups of the era - which counted Tchicai, Shepp, Cherry, Don Moore, and J. C. Moses as its members. From the ashes of this group, Tchicai would go on to found the legendary ensemble, New York Art Quartet, with Roswell Rudd, Milford Graves, and Lewis Worrell, as well as working within Albert Ayler's band, recording “New York Eye and Ear Control”, Shepp’s band, recording “Four for Trane”, the ensemble that recorded John Coltrane's “Ascension”, and the Jazz Composer's “Orchestra”.

By the time he decided to return to Denmark in 1966, had Tchicai chosen to record little else, his legacy within the history of music would have been ensured. Incredibly ambitious, his arrival home marked the beginning of an incredible period of activity which saw him radically expanding his creative explorations, which by the end of the decade would include becoming a founding member of Amsterdam's Instant Composers Pool and helping to record John Lennon and Yoko Ono's “Unfinished Music No.2: Life with the Lions”. This, however, was proceeded the formation of a new orchestra, Cadentia Nova Danica, led by Tchicai, dedicated to radical cross-disciplinary exploration. Remaining together between 1966 and 1971, the group and its shifting membership regularly fell into collaboration with artists and composers, notably Musica Elettronica Viva, who existed beyond the realms of jazz, as well as participating within multi-media events that incorporated the visual realms.

Cadentia Nova Danica’s only two LPs - “Cadentia Nova Danica” (Polydor, 1968), and “Afrodisiaca” (MPS, 1969) - are effectively Tchicai recorded efforts as a leader, and are legendary. There’s little mystery, once heard, why the later landed on Thurston Moore’s iconic “Top Ten from the Free Jazz Underground”, published by Grand Royal in 1996. Sadly, despite playing extensively during their five year run, with exception of a CD documenting a performance at Jazzhus Montmartre, in 1966, until now there has been no other publicly available recordings that allow us to capture a glimpse of this astounding band at work. Alga Marghen / Formalibera’s vinyl pressing of a never before released body of recordings, made in Copenhagen between 1969 and 1970, changes that in the most exciting of ways.

Comprising three pieces - “Mc Gub Gub, (I–VIII)”; “Ode to Skt. John”; and “Pladepip” - the material on this stunning LP comes from two specific events. The first, which encompasses the first side, “Mc Gub Gub, (I–VIII)” was recorded by Cadentia Nova Danica - in this instance, Tchicai, Sune Weimar, Theo Rahbek, Christian Kyhl, Niels Holt, Jørgen Thorup, Michael Schou, Morgens Bollerup, Allan Gregersen, Ole Matthiessen, Pierre Dørge, Willy Jaegert, Anthony Barnett, and Jon Finsen - on May 29th, 1969, at the ABC-Theatre in Copenhagen. Penned by Tchicai, the piece is a sprawling, evolutionary composition at the outer reaches of free jazz, rooted in large blocks of colliding tonality and rhythm - a sound only accessible to larger ensembles - that push territories explored by Charles Mingus to previously unimagined heights, threaded by moments of hard blown fire. Writhing like a stormy sea - skronking and devilish - “Mc Gub Gub, (I–VIII)” is a work of profound complexity that singlehandedly illuminates not only Tchicai’s singular vision as a composer, but also the power and uniqueness of Cadentia Nova Danica during the band’s most vital period.

The two pieces - “Ode to Skt. John” and “Pladepip” - taking up the flip side, were recorded on February 21st, 1970, at the Danish Broadcasting Corporation’s Radio House, and are the outcome of Cadentia Nova Danica’s extended residency there between 1969 and 1970. In many ways, these two recordings offer some of the best insights into the broad collaborative approaches that defined the band, in this case encountering them working with Danish experimental composer, Svend Erik Werner, who was among the earliest in his country to embrace stylistic pluralism and the use historical forms within a modern context. “Ode to Skt. John” - based on aspects of Gregorian music - was penned by Werner, incorporating heady improvisation by the members of Cadentia Nova Danica, this time made up by Tchicai, Sune Weimar, Hugh Steinmetz, Theo Rahbek, Christian Kyhl, Michael Schou, Morgens Bollerup, Ole Kühl, Torben Enghoff, Mauritz Tchikai, Kjeld Ipsen, Willy Jaegert, Ole Matthiessen, Ole Thilo, Pierre Dørge, Steffen Andersen, Jon Finse, and Clause Bøje. The piece is a fascinating binary of the composed and improvised, utilising the band’s large scale to introduce a remarkable sound within its slow progressions and furious, driving free moments, in this incredible meeting of worlds.

The album’s final piece, “Pladepip”, is arguably its most historically significant: an entirely singular piece, unlike anything in Tchicai’s recorded canon as his foray into musique concréte. Drawing upon two recordings of full-band improvisations by Cadentia Nova Danica, for its creation Tchicai also gouged the surfaces of 78rpm records in his collection to skip and create repeated phrases and patterns, creating a stunning sound collage of hard angles and abrupt phrase, that creates a striking counterpoint to the band’s flowing improvisations that bookend those passages. The result is an engrossing listen and easily one of the most unique and culturally important gestures in the entire history of musique concréte.

Truly incredible, Alga Marghen / Formalibera’s vinyl pressing of this never before released body of recordings, made by John Tchicai’s Cadentia Nova Danica, in Copenhagen between 1969 and 1970, offers an unprecedented window into one of the most important groups working in Europe during that period, significantly expanding their rare and slim discography to date. Accompanied by extensive exploratory liner notes by veteran jazz writer, Ed Hazell, this is easily one of the most historically important archival releases of the year and is impossible to recommend enough. Absolutely essential on every count.

For any other artist, an album like Asher White’s Love Aggregates might come out of a conscious push to treat no idea as off-limits, to make something bold and new. Jubilant art-funk about cocaine addiction—absolutely. Swooning orchestral pop about Jerry Garcia—why not? Rippling electronic noise, jazzy brushed drums, an elderly motorcyclist with dementia, a profoundly emotional bass solo—put them all in one song. There are threadbare folk tunes, glammed-up power-pop bangers, “Sir Duke” horn charts, Morton Feldman string arrangements, layers of guitar feedback like violins made of liquid chrome. Yes, for another artist, Love Aggregates might be the most adventurous album in their catalog. For Asher White, it’s what passes for settling down.

White is 25 years old and has been making records—writing, recording, producing, and playing almost everything herself—for over a decade. She’d released two dozen of them on Bandcamp before catching the indie-rock industry’s attention with 2024’s Home Constellation Study and last year’s 8 Tips for Full Catastrophe Living. The latter album’s dizzy eclecticism and formidable craft landed her on Rolling Stone’s Future 25 list with the likes of xaviersobased and Oklou, along with a slew of other accolades. That came as something of a surprise to White, who didn’t craft the chaotic 8 Tips with a breakthrough in mind. Love Aggregates feels like a chance, for one of the most thrilling musical talents of her generation, at a more deliberate introduction.

She wrote and recorded her new album while her previous one was gathering
momentum, tinkering in the DIY recording studio where she always works, acutely conscious now that people would be listening to whatever she came up with. At around the same time, her years-long romantic relationship ended in a flurry of betrayal and addiction, her first experience of devastating heartbreak. Even so, Love Aggregates is not a bitter album about wallowing or seething, but instead making use of those impulses as raw materials in work that transcends the specificity of its origins, fashioning them into something surprising and new.

Die späten 1990er Jahre waren eine fruchtbare Zeit in der amerikanischen Elektronik- Underground-Szene. Eine wachsende Zahl von Künstlern, verteilt über das ganze Land, beteiligte sich an der jüngsten Runde eines jahrzehntelangen transatlantischen musikalischen Dialogs. An der Schnittstelle von Hip-Hop, Elektronik und Soul versuchten diese Künstler, ihren eigenen Weg zu gehen. Im September 2001 schlossen sich Telefon Tel Aviv aus New Orleans, die Highschool-Freunde Joshua Eustis und der verstorbene Charles Cooper, schlossen sich diesem Dialog mit ihrem Debütalbum ,Fahrenheit Fair Enough" an, das bei Hefty Records erschien. Als Herzensprojekt war ,Fahrenheit" ein Versuch des Duos, ,etwas Sinnvolles beizutragen ", sagt Eustis heute, ,etwas eindeutig Amerikanisches und irgendwie auch Südstaatliches." Zum fünfzehnten Jahrestag der Veröffentlichung bringt Ghostly International ,Fahrenheit Fair Enough mit einer Vinyl-Ausgabe und zusätzlichem digitalem Bonusmaterial neu auf. Als sie Ende der 1990er Jahre in New Orleans lebten, standen Eustis und Cooper im Bann zweier musikalischer Strömungen: amerikanischer Klassiker - New Orleans' Bounce, Detroits Techno, Chicagos House - und britischer Electronica - Autechre, Aphex Twin, Jega. Aufgenommen im Laufe eines Jahres in Eustis' Kindheitszimmer im Stadtteil Riverbend in New Orleans, lotete ,Fahrenheit" das Potenzial amerikanischer elektronischer Musik in einer Zeit der Hoffnung aus. Die Tracks sollten ,sich ständig weiterentwickelnde Skulpturen" sein. Fasziniert von IDM, wollten die beiden ,etwas Schwung hineinbringen , es ein wenig lockerer gestalten, es aber auch hyperromantisch klingen lassen." Eustis und Cooper hatten sich ursprünglich eine ,harte Club-Platte" vorgestellt, doch stattdessen wurde ,Fahrenheit" von Fans und Kritikern, die seine stilistischen Wurzeln falsch interpretierten, als zartes Stück Electronica wahrgenommen. Die Musik klingt im Jahr 2016 umso relevanter, da der Weg, den Eustis und Cooper damals anstrebten, heute Realität ist. Und weil heute jeder darauf hört, was der Süden zu sagen hat." ,Wir wollten einfach nur sehen, ob wir es hinbekommen", erinnert sich Eustis. ,Wir wussten es nicht. Unser Ziel war es, etwas zu schaffen, auf das wir stolz sein konnten." Zum 25-jährigen Jubiläum dieser bahnbrechenden Elektronik-LP, einem Meilenstein der amerikanischen Elektronikmusik, erscheint eine Deluxe-Obi- Edition als Doppel-Vinyl in einer neuen Watercolor- Variante. Joshua Eustis und der verstorbene Charlie Cooper schufen einen Klassiker, der an der Schnittstelle von IDM, Experimental- und Bass-Musik ansiedelt und eine neue Generation von Künstlern (Loraine James, Kelly Moran u. a.) beeinflusste. Das Album kehrt nun endlich für eine neue Generation zurück.

With her new album Trespasser, Grace Potter introduces a beautifully unruly cast of characters who step into forbidden spaces with absolute abandon. As the spiritual sequel to 2023’s Mother Road, the four-time Grammy nominee’s seventh studio LP continues the kaleidoscopic storyline shaped by her many road trips from her Topanga Canyon home to her part-time residence in her native Vermont (a journey she’s made eight times in the last five years, usually on her own). But while Mother Road was born from a desperate need for solace in the midst of emotional freefall, Trespasser reveals an artist firmly anchored in her singular vision.

The latest chapter in a career marked by endless transformation and elite recognition—including sharing stages with rock & roll icons like the Rolling Stones & Robert Plant and earning praise from legends like Bob Dylan and Bonnie Raitt—Trespasser ultimately lights the way toward a more unbound and expansive means of moving through the world. Produced by her husband and frequent collaborator Eric Valentine (Queens of the Stone Age, Weezer, Slash) and recorded in a cross-country journey beginning at her home in Topanga with Benmont Tench, continuing in Nashville with Mother Road session players (members of Cage the Elephant, Kings of Leon, and Train), and completed in Vermont with members of her longtime live band, the album echoes its origins with a wayward sound that spans from stripped-bare soul to cosmic country to hellraising rock & roll—all while orbiting Potter’s force- of-nature voice and lavishly imagined storytelling. “We’ve always been taught that the trespassers are the bad guys, but to me it’s not about reckless rebellion,” says Potter. “It’s about exploring, physically and mentally and emotionally, and being willing to step outside the narratives we’ve accepted. Because in my experience, the places we’re told not to go are exactly the ones that show us who we really are.”

With her new album Trespasser, Grace Potter introduces a beautifully unruly cast of characters who step into forbidden spaces with absolute abandon. As the spiritual sequel to 2023’s Mother Road, the four-time Grammy nominee’s seventh studio LP continues the kaleidoscopic storyline shaped by her many road trips from her Topanga Canyon home to her part-time residence in her native Vermont (a journey she’s made eight times in the last five years, usually on her own).

But while Mother Road was born from a desperate need for solace in the midst of emotional freefall, Trespasser reveals an artist firmly anchored in her singular vision. The latest chapter in a career marked by endless transformation and elite recognition—including sharing stages with rock & roll icons like the Rolling Stones & Robert Plant and earning praise from legends like Bob Dylan and Bonnie Raitt—Trespasser ultimately lights the way toward a more unbound and expansive means of moving through the world. Produced by her husband and frequent collaborator Eric Valentine (Queens of the Stone Age, Weezer, Slash) and recorded in a cross-country journey beginning at her home in Topanga with Benmont Tench, continuing in Nashville with Mother Road session players (members of Cage the Elephant, Kings of Leon, and Train), and completed in Vermont with members of her longtime live band, the album echoes its origins with a wayward sound that spans from stripped-bare soul to cosmic country to hellraising rock & roll—all while orbiting Potter’s force- of-nature voice and lavishly imagined storytelling. “We’ve always been taught that the trespassers are the bad guys, but to me it’s not about reckless rebellion,” says Potter. “It’s about exploring, physically and mentally and emotionally, and being willing to step outside the narratives we’ve accepted. Because in my experience, the places we’re told not to go are exactly the ones that show us who we really are.”

On Squirrel Flower's new album, Say a Prayer to the Gods of Getting Going, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, Ella Williams, delivers her most transcendent and instantly classic record to date. It's an album full of hope and beauty, with themes of staying in constant motion, electric love, and knowing when to leave, but also when to stick around. After touring in support of 2023's Tomorrow's Fire, Williams remained on the road, following instinct over itinerary_passing through Gary, Indiana; Los Angeles; Putney, Vermont; Silver City, New Mexico; and Hudson, New York. Each stop became a site of creative renewal. She ended up recording the album at two locations: a makeshift studio in rural Wisconsin, and at Drop of Sun in Asheville, NC, featuring friends and collaborators such as Dimitri Giannpolous (Horse Jumper of Love), Sofia Jensen (Free Range), Clay Frankel (Twin Peaks, Hazel City), and many others along the way. Standouts like "Reelin" and "Highway Woman" showcase the push and pull of life as a musician; the constant need for embarking on a hero's journey in search of reflection and freedom. Others like "Not Me" and "Cleveland" are classic Squirrel Flower, but with a sharper and more concentrated writing style paired with some of Williams' strongest vocal delivery of her career. Mixed and co-produced by Alex Farrar (MJ Lenderman, Wednesday), Say a Prayer to the Gods of Getting Going is the sound of cosmic rebirth, looking behind to illuminate what's ahead. "Pack your life and your guitar," Williams sings on "Highway Woman." "You can change it as you go. You do not plan on dying." In addition to her seemingly nonstop DISABLED touring across North America and Europe, Squirrel Flower has been featured in outlets such as Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, The NY Times, Paste, and many others, as well as performances at NPR's Tiny Desk & KEXP. Williams' music has been streamed millions of times around the globe, proving her to be an undeniable force as a songwriter. FOR FANS OF Indigo De Souza, Soccer Mommy, Katy Kirby, Julia Jacklin, Tomberlin, Hand Habits, Phoebe Bridgers, Waxahatchee, PJ Harvey, Grouper, Chelsea Wolfe, Moses Sumney, Cat Power, Liz Phair, Alex G, Mazzy Star, Julie Byrne, Big Thief.

On Squirrel Flower's new album, Say a Prayer to the Gods of Getting Going, songwriter and multi-instrumentalist, Ella Williams, delivers her most transcendent and instantly classic record to date. It's an album full of hope and beauty, with themes of staying in constant motion, electric love, and knowing when to leave, but also when to stick around. After touring in support of 2023's Tomorrow's Fire, Williams remained on the road, following instinct over itinerary_passing through Gary, Indiana; Los Angeles; Putney, Vermont; Silver City, New Mexico; and Hudson, New York. Each stop became a site of creative renewal. She ended up recording the album at two locations: a makeshift studio in rural Wisconsin, and at Drop of Sun in Asheville, NC, featuring friends and collaborators such as Dimitri Giannpolous (Horse Jumper of Love), Sofia Jensen (Free Range), Clay Frankel (Twin Peaks, Hazel City), and many others along the way. Standouts like "Reelin" and "Highway Woman" showcase the push and pull of life as a musician; the constant need for embarking on a hero's journey in search of reflection and freedom. Others like "Not Me" and "Cleveland" are classic Squirrel Flower, but with a sharper and more concentrated writing style paired with some of Williams' strongest vocal delivery of her career. Mixed and co-produced by Alex Farrar (MJ Lenderman, Wednesday), Say a Prayer to the Gods of Getting Going is the sound of cosmic rebirth, looking behind to illuminate what's ahead. "Pack your life and your guitar," Williams sings on "Highway Woman." "You can change it as you go. You do not plan on dying." In addition to her seemingly nonstop DISABLED touring across North America and Europe, Squirrel Flower has been featured in outlets such as Pitchfork, Rolling Stone, The NY Times, Paste, and many others, as well as performances at NPR's Tiny Desk & KEXP. Williams' music has been streamed millions of times around the globe, proving her to be an undeniable force as a songwriter. FOR FANS OF Indigo De Souza, Soccer Mommy, Katy Kirby, Julia Jacklin, Tomberlin, Hand Habits, Phoebe Bridgers, Waxahatchee, PJ Harvey, Grouper, Chelsea Wolfe, Moses Sumney, Cat Power, Liz Phair, Alex G, Mazzy Star, Julie Byrne, Big Thief.