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Acclaimed electronic musicians, producers and sound architects Max Cooper and Rob Clouth team up for a new collaborative EP; a dark, playful four-track dive into ambient, breakbeat and techno’s subconscious flow, featuring a standout vocal performance from South London rapper FLOHIO.

Recorded over a series of spontaneous London sessions, “8 Billion Realities” channels years of creative exchange between two of the genre’s most quietly innovative artists and is a result of a decision between the longtime friends to refrain from conceptual overthinking in favour of instinct and joy.

As long-time admirers of each other’s audio/visual work, Cooper and Clouth collaborated in London together after both emerging from intense, idea-heavy album cycles. What followed was a series of exploratory sessions, half-improvised, half-built around half-formed thoughts.

The result is a club-ready EP that feels alive and human: imperfect and hypnotically rich.

“Rob Clouth has been one of my favourite electronic music producers since I first heard his work in 2011,” says Cooper. “His work is more full of ideas and structure than anyone else.” “We were both coming from extensive conceptual studio albums and both in the mood for simplifying things and having some fun with the music, so that’s what we did”.

For Clouth, no stranger to Max Coopers Mesh label having previously released an array of EP’s plus his 2020 debut album “Zero Point” this record marks a new chapter, both creatively and personally.“Something pretty new for me is collaborating,” he says. “You kind of have to when to stop, because if you develop an idea all the way to its endpoint, the other person has nowhere to jump in.”

The first “A Moment Set Aside” began as a break from another idea, a live, unplanned improvisation based around arps and ambience. “The track was written in about as long as it took to play it,” says Cooper. “It was pulled from a 1 hour recording session, more or less as you hear it… the energy and excitement grew as the unplanned moment bore some magic.”

“The lesson being that sometimes it’s helpful to set aside a moment without forcing results, and let the subconscious have something to say.” What followed was darker, heavier. “Asymptote” is detuned techno. Subversive and euphoric in its descent. “We found a sort of brain mangling, half consonant, half wandering detuned techno pulse, which we started chatting about being a sort of pit of spiralling body parts we were falling into,” says Cooper. “It was a lot of fun to work on and let loose with bigger kicks than I usually ever get to unleash.”

Then came “8 Billion Realities”, featuring a standout rap performance from FLOHIO; an emerging figure in the UK grime and rap scene. The track was inspired by conversations about algorithmic echo chambers and hyper-personalised online worlds. Frantic, direct, and South London to the core, FLOHIO brings this tension to life. Her sharp, intense flow cuts through distortion and rhythm, landing the track somewhere between chaos and control instantly making it one of the most striking moments in either artist’s catalogue. “A different reality for all 8 billion of us,” says Cooper. “We weren’t sure if it would work… but there was something about the energy of the percussive idea and the story which felt like it might fit.” “Then FLOHIO had a play with it and straight off the bat absolutely killed it, not just with the lyrics and energy, but the harmonising too, it was a beautiful process.”

The final piece on the EP “Candeleda” originated from Clouth’s solo experiments with a live rig made entirely of vocals and keys, using his self-developed “cheatbox” system. “He put forward a beautiful stumbling melodic sequence which we bounced back and forth adding harmonies and synth layers,” says Cooper. “It rounds off a collection covering some of the breadth of music that we both love.”

The third drop into the Poorly Knit ocean, sees Bruce washed ashore with three silted and barnacled explorations into dub techno, ambient and beyond.

Seizing the microphone for the first time since his sophomore album Not Ready For Love, Bruce weaves a seductive siren song with Golden Water Queen, treading sweet nothings into the bubbling abyss. Sinking further into the deep, The Hand fizzes and froths at the fringes of nothingness, born from the wishing of a softer and more insidious soundtrack to Denis Villeneuve’s Dune. Then finally the waves are parted with DHam’s Jam, bobbing along 8 minutes of bouncing kick and prancing percussion, pulling you with peaceful buoyancy along the dancefloor, into “the zone.”

With a continued emphasis on the importance of physical medium within dance music, the 12” is pressed with eco-friendly “Eco-Mix” reground PVC and sleeved in DIY lino printed sleeves.

“sitting in the terminal at Barcelona airport, health safety warnings echo through empty architecture. feeling slow, and fast, out of sync with rituals and routines. structure and rhythm disintegrate into micro gestures appearing in random order, a daily psychedelia... amid all of the chaos and distraction in the last few years, it’s only through letting go that I've found solid ground to stand on.”

These are some of the experiences and reflections that gave shape to Slipstream, a hallucinatory mini-album by the artist PVAS and the fourth release on Objekt's label, Kapsela. Slipstream is an aural document of PVAS's interior life, conceived not as a grab-bag of DJ-friendly tracks (although it’s clearly inspired by the club) but as a single, delicately crafted artistic statement. The entire record is shrouded in a flickering haze, worn through by smudged breakbeats and wiry drum machines. “Wetland”, with its swampy percussion and crystalline arps, echoes T++ and Kraftwerk. The radiant incandescence of “Gathering Drift” recalls GAS or Monolake's “Hong Kong.” Sampled breakbeats dip and swerve asymmetrically through “Boba” and “Terminal”. Across the record, textures and voices are reshaped by PVAS's homemade algo-software, UMT, which, in PVAS’ own words, “reconstructs one audio file by sampling another, resulting in output that merges their aesthetic qualities, creating rhythm with non-rhythmic sound files and abusing the stereo field.” But the most striking union of technology and poetic self-exploration comes at the end of the record, in the title track, from words murmured through a classic vocoder:



“when i stop framing myself as a boundaried stone

immovable, and powerful, and heavy

when i stop figuring my deepest space as my own

something which i am solely responsible

i surrender, i surrender”



PVAS is Jordan Juras, a Berlin-based artist who grew up outside of Windsor, Ontario. He has released solo EPs on Isla and xpq?, and is half the duo NUG (3XL, West Mineral Ltd.). In addition to developing music software professionally, he has used his UMT software on records by Lyra Pramuk and Dylan Kerr. Slipstream was recorded from 2022 to 2025.

Written and produced by PVAS

Mixed by TJ Hertz

Mastered by Anne Taegert at D&M

Artwork and design by Brodie Kaman

Repress!

200 COPIES ONLY

Nils Frahm has unexpectedly confirmed details of a new collection of solo piano music, his first album since 2022’s three-hour Music For Animals. Day will be released by LEITER on March 1st, 2024, and it will be available on limited edition vinyl as well as via all digital platforms. Recorded in the summer of 2022 in complete solitude and away from his studio at Berlin’s famed Funkhaus complex, it is preceded by a single, ‘Butter Notes’, out on January 19. Day may come as a surprise to those who, over the last decade, have watched Frahm shift slowly away from the piano compositions with which he first made his name in favour of a nonetheless still-distinctive approach that’s considerably more instrumentally complex and intricately arranged. In addition, in 2021, having spent the early part of the pandemic arranging his archives, he released the 80 minute, 23-track Old Friends New Friends, a compilation of previously unreleased piano music intended to enable him to ”start over” with a clean slate. Judging from the extended, ambient nature of Music For Animals, it proved a successful gambit, but Frahm has never been able to resist returning to his first love, and those who enjoyed earlier acclaimed albums like The Bells, Felt and Screws will once again revel in Day’s familiar, personal style. Day, which contains six tracks, three over the six-minute mark, is the first in a pair of albums Frahm has lined up for 2024. In keeping with their nature, however, he won’t be making a song and dance about the release. Instead, he’ll resume his ongoing world tour, which has already included fifteen sold-out dates at Berlin’s Funkhaus as well as a show at Athen’s Acropolis. It will continue with shows all over the world, among them several sold-out dates at London’s Barbican in July 2024, where he previously curated a weekend of music, film and art, Possibly Colliding, in 2016. The album is best enjoyed in the manner in which it was recorded, in the intimacy of a peaceful, cosy room. There are muffled pedal creaks on the cyclical, quietly jazzy ‘You Name It’ and, during the palliative ripples of ‘Butter Notes’’ arpeggios, the sound of dogs barking in the streets outside. The compassionate, hesitant ‘Tuesdays’ and emotionally ambiguous ‘Towards Zero’ linger with the poignant persistence of Harold Budd’s earliest work, while ‘Hands On’ is a sometimes brighter, airier tune that sets its own, deliberate pace, and, as he has on occasions before, ‘Changes’ sees Frahm employing elements of his instrument’s construction in a ‘prepared piano’ fashion. Characterised by its confidential mood, Day confirms that, while Frahm is arguably now best known for elaborate, celebratory concerts calling upon an arsenal of pianos, organs, keyboards, synths, even a glass harmonica, he’s still a prolific master of affecting simplicity, tenderness and romance.

The word "amateur" originates from the Latin word "amator," meaning "lover" or "admirer". This Latin term is derived from "amare," which means "to love". The French adopted "amateur" from Latin, and the English then borrowed it from French, initially retaining the sense of someone who loves or is devoted to something. Over time, the English usage of "amateur" also developed a meaning related to a lack of professional skill or experience. How did a word derived from love become a slur? Is love really so defenseless? They say love conquers all, but in reality isn’t love quite ridiculous? It has no intention, no motive, no agenda. How could it possibly prevail? It can’t be bought or sold, or so they say.Its mere existence can't be proven or even measured. What an impossible thing. Trying and failing, time and time again, no wonder cynicism always seems to win. I see “amateurism” as a delighted, even foolish, protest. Protest against everything. Of what’s expected of someone, or expected of someone to desire or strive for. To be elite, to be expert, to be professional, to be a master, to excel and succeed. Where’s the joy in that? I just want to have fun. I want to want. I want to love. And keep doing it, forever. I want to have fun, even when it’s tiring and sometimes even heaven is boring as hell. I want to be bad. I want to do my own thing. “I vant to be alone”. I want to be someone so dedicated to their passion that it starts to seem like there’s something wrong with them. All the way. We can take it all the way, and never get it back. ” - Molly Nilsson Amateur is the 12th studio album by Molly Nilsson. Deep in the teeth of a career that threatens to tip into something resembling a “legacy,” Molly Nilsson celebrates with an album recorded instinctively, quickly and bursting with so many moments of emotional brilliance and clarity it may be her greatest yet. Hers has been a career spent reaching out, perennially powerful in her earnestness, a warrior ridiculously defenceless and armed with a glittering sincerity. Shearing herself of the machinations of the music industry, recording at home, writing direct to the heart. Amateur is a jubilee for losers. A treatise in 13 songs, Amateur states clearly that we should live our life with eternal curiosity, offers us an open hand of comradeship out of the rat race. The songs on the album are both some of the most personal of Nilsson’s career and the most anthemic. First single How Much Is The World asks us to re-evaluate value in the face of a Neo-liberal system squeezing the life out of our loves. Pulsing opener Die Cry Lie satirises the commercialisation of emotion in the form of a shout-along diss-track. With a pounding rhythm track held down by gorgeous chord changes, heartbreaker Valhalla carries the torch for the main themes of the album: never growing up, making mistakes with kindness, moving on. When the drums crash in on the line “It’s going to get better now, you’ll see, going to be much better off without me” there is a world of feeling swirling about in the vocal delivery. One reading of the track might be that it’s a break up song but the subtext is classic Molly Nilsson: by living truthfully, making mistakes, we’re active agents against the myriad oppressions of the world. All The Way takes the theme for a run into the eternal sunset. It’s a manifesto for living fully. “Take it all the way, and never get it back” - it’s the process that’s the important point. The journey not the destination. Big Life, follows on like a part 2: An ode not only to Molly Nilsson’s career of endless gigs, endless connections with people, it’s a massive ode for following your dreams, doing it yourself. Closer The Bitter End is a powerful anthem for friendship, another definition of love infused in Nilsson’s work, A beautifully poignant ode to comradeship til the end, it seems to be the songwriter approaching aging, approaching life’s inevitability with the same vigour and earnestness, the same love of life she enjoyed at the onset of her career. There are moments on Amateur shrouded in reverb, slightly out of focus, forcing the listener to step deeper into the Mollyverse.. Nilsson’s open-armed beseeching to the world permeates every beat, every chord. These are songs exploding with life: the chunky, aggressive bassline on the punker Get A Life can’t hide its massive, catchy chorus. The sweeping Swedish Nightmare might be a tongue-in-cheek self-reference, but at its heart it’s a song about the duality of living life large, what is a dream, what is a nightmare? Molly Nilsson says you can’t have one without the other, and why would you want to? Here’s to making mistakes.

Recital releases The Holy Restaurant, the new full-length album by Derek Baron, and their first solo LP since Curtain (Recital, 2020).

The album is built from years of miniature transcriptions of improvisations, functioning in many ways as a sister to Curtain. Half-thoughts and mistakes are revisited, gilded, and illuminated. The floorboards of the album are laid with piano, organ, string pads, while serrated accruements (distortions, flourishes, and recording interferences) step and drop overhead. The resulting conflux, as Baron notes in the accompanying booklet “becomes the point and the problem to explore.”

The second track “Oven Girls” opens with us galloping on a horse in some video-game meadow on a bed of MIDI strings. Abruptly, a helicopter soars over us and we transition to a latticed guitar and woodwind exploration. The album rolls on in this fashion, juxtaposing musical half-sentences within a museum of sounds rag-picked from history and daily life. Emotional interviews with Midwestern friars who build and sell caskets are set against gothic piano and guitar duets. On “Music in the Casket,” A disorienting and hilariously epic guitar solo erupts. The penultimate titular piece, “The Holy Restaurant,” sets a text written by Baron’s grandfather. A small chorus voices his words, echoing the humanistic storytelling of “Blue” Gene Tyranny’s A Letter From Home. Under sunlit piano progressions, a fleet of smokey trumpets emerges.

Running throughout the album is a series of “traces”: short melodic phrases painted over again and again with different real and MIDI instrumentation. The “luxurious asceticism of doubling” as Baron puts it. They explain, “Part of the allure for me is that the ‘original’ material is itself kind of thin, sketchy, meaningless, maybe calling attention to itself only by way of a felicitous mistake. Hearing, transcribing, and learning what was basically only ever played first on accident becomes the guiding concern.”

The album’s shifting, variegated forms and voices pass quickly; the record feels both comforting and elusive, suitable for any hour of the day.

The Holy Restaurant features guest players Ed Atkins, Lucy Liyou, Quentin Moore, Emily Martin, Dominic Frigo, Jacob Wick, and several of Baron’s family members. It is released in a limited edition vinyl pressing of 200 copies, accompanied by a booklet of effusive program notes by the composer, alongside an assemblage of photographs, scores, and artwork.

Repress 2025

Classic Drexciyan dance floor moment like 'Digital Tsunami' is considered as the signature track of the 'Harnessed the Storm' album. It is accompanied here by three titles that are not present on the 2LP vinyl version of the album.

Originally released in 2002, 'Harnessed the Storm' was conceived as the opening chapter of the legendary seven Storms - a series of seven albums created within a single year and released via several labels under different names.

'Harnessed the Storm' was the sole one in the series credited under the main Drexciya project.

This 12' also includes 'Aquatic Cataclysm' which ranks with the most abstract, alien and stark in their catalogue.

Another masterful lesson in futurist dance music from one of its strongest forces.

Tape

Atsuko Hatano is a contemporay classical Viola player who works with electronics to add textures and layers to her sound. Located in Tokyo, Japan, she is a commanding instrumentalist and composer who constructs innovative compositions with strings and layered electronics.
Cells #5 is an orchestral collection and sequel to her previous album Cells #2 which will also be released on cassette via Imprec’s Cassauna label. Cells #5 required three years to complete and the work features the artist’s signature methodology where the instrumental performances are gradually enveloped by multiple layers of a string orchestration.
When not playing solo Atsuko is extremely active recording, collaborating and playing live with Jim O’ Rourke, Eiko Ishibashi, Mocky, Midori Hirano and many more acts.

Atsuko Hatano: Violin, Viola, Cello, Contrabass, Piano (track 1), Xylophone, Oscillator and Chorus

Guest Musicians:
Eiko Ishibashi: Piano, Marimba, Vibraphone
Yuko Ikoma: Accordion
Natsumi Kudo: Horn and flugelhorn
Icchie: Trumpet, Flugelhorn, Piccolo Trumpet
Tatsuhisa Yamamoto: Snare Drum

Composed and Mixed by Atsuko Hatano. Mastered by Jim O’Rourke. Cover by Saskia Griepink.

10th Anniversary Re-Release. Transparent-blaues Vinyl mit Bonewhite Splatter. Limitiert auf 200 Exemplare. Mit Human Nature zeigt die Band Caught a Ghost ihre außergewöhnliche Fähigkeit, Genres miteinander zu verschmelzen und dabei einen ganz eigenen, unverwechselbaren Sound zu schaffen. Das Album ist eine raffinierte Mischung aus Indie, Soul, Electronica und einem Hauch von Retro-Pop - eine musikalische Reise, die sich zwischen kraftvollen Grooves, atmosphärischen Synthesizern und souligen Vibes bewegt. Ein besonderer Höhepunkt des Albums ist die Single "Can't let go", die als Titelsong der erfolgreichen Krimiserie Bosch verwendet wurde. Der Song, der im Vorspann der Serie zu hören ist, fasst die Essenz von Caught a Ghost zusammen: Eine Mischung aus düsterem Soul, pulsierenden Beats und einer kraftvollen, aber gleichzeitig verletzlichen Stimmung. Die Tatsache, dass die Band nun auch Teil eines solch prominenten Projekts ist, unterstreicht nicht nur ihre künstlerische Relevanz, sondern zeigt auch, wie zeitlos und universell ihre Musik mittlerweile geworden ist.

Terry Francis makes his debut on Pariter with a rare and essential reissue from one of the UK Tech House's original pioneers. A cornerstone of the London scene, long time Fabric resident and a driving force behind the early Housey Doingz and Wiggle movements, Terry's influence runs deep in the foundations of underground house music as we know it today.

This release marks the first installment in a short-series with a carefully selected tracks from Terry's archive. Engineered by Wubble-U at the legendary Strange Weather studios and originally released on Eukahouse 25 years ago, these tracks capture the raw energy and spirit of the late 90's London Tech House at its finest. A timeless, sought-after release specially reissued and remastered with an unreleased retake, a vital document from a pivotal era.

One of contemporary ambient’s preeminent figures lands on its leading label, enacting a transition into a new phase of rhythmic noise and tonal shadowplay laced with peculiar sensitivities, wrangling Dilloway-influenced tape noise thru ASMR ambience, fritzed dub techno, layered vocal drone and ritualistic mantras.

Perila steps up solo with a heavily satisfying debut for West Mineral, investigating negative space and states of subconsciousness. The shift in tone feeds forward into arcane realms of resonant dark ambient and dream-pop, harnessed in amorphous structures using dub-as-method. It’s wholly immersive stuff in a way that’s long been Perlia’s calling card, but here more careful in its command of personalised, atmospheric physics from the Coil-esque ‘cheerleader’, thru the deeply smudged and sexy trip hop of ‘lava’, and the oozing, sloshing OOBE-like spectres of ‘give it all’.

The title of the album is a reference to Carl Jung’s phrase "all haste is of the devil” which informs Perila’s writing process here; she slows down in an attempt to feel more and tap into her shadow self. Album opener 'cheerbleeder' is a doomed, tremolo-heavy mass of ghost notes, while the rattling chains and strangulated voices on ‘metal snax' sounds like they belong on a Wolf Eyes tape. 'grain levy tep dusk' strikes closer to recently unearthed industrial plates from Tolerance and Mentocome, with rusted clangs threaded into deflated, half-speed pulses. The album keeps growing from there, shifting and expanding as Perila exhales and absorbs her cognitive blind spots. She credits "trance states" for helping her let go, and we broadly get to experience that on the mantra-like 'thunder me' and the blurry all-vocal highlight 'hold my leg', which sounds like it could have been snatched from Grouper's 'Way Their Crept' sessions.

As with all of Alexandra Zakharenko’s work under various aliases - Aseptic Stir, Baby Bong, Wedontneedwords, Perila - her allure is self-evident to lovers of textured, diffuse electronics, and never more so than on this lip-bitingly potent suite of delicacies and primordial urges, perfectly balancing ancient and techngnostic aspects with an x-amount of seductive strangeness left in the margins.

Big remix package for TOY TONICS'S boss KAPOTE. His song "Mystery" from the last album reworked by HARVEY SUTHERLAND, OPOLOPO, CLOSE COUNTERS with a bonus remix by french house master CASSIUS. Turning Kpaote's New school house anthem into super fresh jazz-funk disco, NYC 1990ies House hit and proto-dance bangers. There is no way there is not one version that every good DJ with an interesting fresh sound can't play.

It's 2025 and Toy Tonics one more time tries to define what are the perfect vibes for the "post-dark-electronic music age". Yes. After 10 years of explosion of hard techno, dark trance and fast race sounds Toy Tonics is trying every month to bring ideas for a more positive, high quality, forward-thinking dance music.

Opolopo: Opolopo brings his legendary touch to "Mystery." With a career spanning decades and a reputation for fusing boogie, funk, and broken beat, his remix promises a soulful journey. An artist who's famously remixed everyone from Gregory Porter to Stevie Wonder, Opolopo's version is pure, unadulterated groove.

Harvey Sutherland: Straight from the heart of Melbourne's electronic underground, Sutherland delivers his signature "Neurotic Funk." The celebrated synthesist and producer, known for his distinctive analog textures and a discography that's earned him ARIA Award nominations, is sure to inject his unique genre-bending energy into the track.

Close Counters: The duo from Melbourne, Close Counters, are set to turn "Mystery" into an electrifying fusion of house, soul, and jazz. Known for their dense synths and infectious energy, they have earned praise from tastemakers like Gilles Peterson and have wowed crowds at festivals like Splendour in the Grass.

Finally, the package features "Berlin Boogie Town" with a new interpretation from Parisian legend Cassius, adding some uplifting French Touch filter vibes.

For the third time, they had been sent to this forsaken land. It was neither east nor west, neither north nor south. They said it had once been a kingdom, somewhere in the heart of the old continent, something they had pieced together from the ruins scattered across jagged hills sprouting here and there from the ground. Everyone else went islands, dived to the seabed, drilled at the poles, and explored waste in the east, but these two were sent here again, as if someone were trying to get rid of them, just to keep them out of the way.

What were they really supposed to find here? They wandered the land, aimless and bored, like the last bird watching from the sky. Sometimes they landed, took samples for the lab, and then caught a nap by the river bend. They avoided the hot fumes of active volcanoes. Compared to those on other planets, these were more like small, whispered fumaroles, but even so, they had to be careful.

They felt as if they had stepped into a scene from a movie they had once glimpsed. A mad and exhausted conqueror screamed and wildly flailed his arms on a ridiculous wooden raft in the middle of a raging river. It was somewhere in the south of this planet, deep in the jungle. There were many movies made on this planet, but only fragments of the reels survived, and this one quickly became iconic.

When a trumpet sounded in the distance and flooded the land with a booming murmur, when all the fumaroles hissed together, and when wind rolled in, covering the land in heavy fog, both of them knew the third expedition would not be like the previous ones.

At that moment, Kult Masek and Petr Vrba were flying over the land that was once called České středohoří.

Downwards present Alexander Tucker in metamorphosis from psych folk to techgnostic bard, aided by notable guests – Justin K Broadrick, Regis, Phew, Karl D’Silva, JJOWDY, and Elvin Brandhi – in a quest for disordered convention and new thrills. One up to Tucker’s outings for Alter and The Tapeworm, and spiritual successor to his »Nonexistant« trio on Downwards, »Clear Vortex Chamber« is an enigmatic take on the brownfield edgelands where the eldritch intersects electronic heck. Decades of work spread between hardcore punk, psych rock, folk, and drone — including work with Stephen O’Malley (Ginnungap) and Neil Campbell (Astral Social Club, ESP Kinetic) — feed forward into this album’s unsteady machine rhythms and cranky junkyard atonalities, where Tucker panel-beats aspects of his previous sound with a newfound industrial thrust and cyber-punky lust that suits him dead well.

A crafty example of how to mutate without losing sight of yourself, the album’s eight parts feel like a cyborg patching itself into modernity. On opener »Udug« Tucker’s signature falsetto peals from a A Scanner Darkly-style scramble suit of stereo-strobing electronics, setting a melodramatic, neo-gothic tension that riddles the album thru the knotted, fractured industrial dancehall bullishness of »Mallets« with Yeah You’s feral gob Elvin Brandhi, via a pair of standout »Fedbck« parts with Tucker’s personal idol, Justin K Broadrick (Godflesh, Jesu, and the rest), featuring the Brum deity’s claw-handed riffs and howl on the first, and smeared with Karl D’Silva’s brass in its noctilucent second part.

Regis also proves a staunch foil for the album’s most robust, club-ready cut »Zona«, hammered out from buzzing metallic drums and monotone bass drones, and pitting his severed vox against Tucker’s own androgynous harmonies to recall aspects of The Ephemeron Loop via British Murder Boys, whilst scene legend, Can and Ryuichi Sakamoto spar Phew (aka Aunt Sally) ideally tempers the flow in a relatively soothing »Sansu«, sharing more cyber-romantic, recombinant sentiments with the channelling of Robert Wyatt gone Funk Bruxaria on »Folded«.

Tell me something that makes a difference’ demands Gaia Weiss in Tenashee’s debut single. Something that immerses crisp melody into stodgy bass, collides warm dub with icy sound design, all the while slowly expanding like a supernova. ‘Tell me something’ takes the sounds and styles of the past and places them in a gravity-free future, while evoking an ethereal and precise atmosphere.
Gaia Weiss is an actress - not a singer by trade - and summons Charlotte Gainsbourg & Brigitte Bardot to deliver the spoken words as a fractured monologue, guiding us through splintered visions, and detuned chord progressions, in pursuit of the seemingly unattainable; ‘something that can make a difference’.
With this six-chapter journey on the newborn Street Cinema label, Tenashee (DJ Tennis and Ashee, Manfredi Romano and Joseph Ashworth) have crafted and refined - like two artisans from another era - a unique creation: a creature that reconnects electronic music with complexity and richness, fully aware of hyper-contemporaneity, yet capable of resisting surrender to it.
“Blink To Check It’s Real” featuring artist Campbell King - poet and beautiful soul - immediately immerses us in an electronic reality check, with 90s-inspired tweaking and glitching, all woven together with a poem from Campbell that contrasts the dizzying intensity of lust and connection with the comfort of being able to ‘loosen their grip’ and ‘make it safe.’
In ‘I Can See Now,’ Aurelia Ray (the stage name of pop-music-writing powerhouse Caitlin Stubbs) evokes a sense of serenity, pure love, and trust within a refined, spacious piece of minimalist electronica. “Blindsided” is a journey through pure, airy abstraction, a dance floor companion to the glacial trip-hop instrumental “Cold Logic”.
Finally, in “Memories,” the last track in the setlist but actually the first song the duo worked on, conceived and developed five years ago in 2020, the voice of Chinese German artist Mona Yim transports us to a place that is both emotionally introspective and intense, balancing on the edge between desire and reality.
“You should know where I go when I dream,” she states.
Over the course of five years, through exchanges, writing sessions, and fine-tuning in Paris, London, Saint Martin, and Ibiza, the world evolved, but Tenashee’s musical mission remained unchanged. The mini-album reflects the musical backgrounds of its two creators, their unique sensitivity to the present, and their desire to challenge each other with sharp, emotional, yet weightless styles and sounds. It is no longer just DJ Tennis; the successful DJ touring worldwide, organising events, and founding influential labels like Life & Death; nor only Joseph Ashworth with his scientific approach and creativity as a
producer and writer in the competitive world of pop; nor Ashee, with his releases on Circoloco and Aus Music. No, Tenashee is something more.
It is a duet searching for a thread that connects electronic music—past, present, and future—through experimentation, craft, and artistry. The moment has truly arrived for Tenashee to ‘tell us something.’

In between the folds of ceremony and commonality lies a perennial spring of musical expression.

A statement along the time continuum, or a testament to the resilient resourcefulness embedded in that truth, forms the philosophical approach of this album – the first outing of Dídac.
Studying an extensive archive of instruments, artifacts, and field recordings at the Musée d’ethnographie de Genève—a space steeped in folkloric gesture – Dídac encountered a cosmos of liturgical music and folk song. Anchored in reverance for tradition and transformation alike, this album navigates the old-world Mediterranean lore through a post-modern ambient lens, threading drone, gentle rhythm, electroacoustic textures and the crude tactility of archival material into one woven tapestry.

Under the guidance of Dr. Madeleine Leclair, Dídac was invited to work within one of the world’s most extensive ethno- musicological archives—L’AIMP. In the saturated basements and tape-lined backrooms of the museum, he submerged himself in the sounds of ritual and rural life: wax cylinders from the Eastern Mediterranean, tapes of liturgical hymn, the worn edges of communal song.
In a makeshift studio on the fourth floor of the museum, he sifted through the hours of material he collected, gradually discovering that the archive was no static source – It did not dictate; rather, it served as a companion—offering not answers, but questions. Not a beaten track, but a cluster of sonic clues and riddles. Samples do appear occasionally, tenderly interwoven into the dialogue of the songs. In Dídac’s self-titled debut, the past is not worn as ornament or kitsch; it is listened to and responded to. The museum, its archives, and the visit to Geneva became a foundational culisse of sorts, igniting a myriad of rough cuts and improvisational outtakes.
Dídac, or Diego Ocejo Muñoz, was born in Madrid in 1994 to a family of both Catalan and Castilian origin.

Brought up in a religious household, the influence of the Catholic Church innately shaped the social fabric, schooling and daily life. This lingering dominance led the adolescent Diego into a path of rejection of everything sacramental, promptly resorting to subversion in the shape of grafitti, skateboarding and underground music. Only later in life, after a rigorous venture as an acid and electro producer, the Church re-emerged before him in new light, invoking a deep fascination for its mysticism, iconography and choral tradition.

Spain in general and Catalonia in particular, has long served as a crossroads of the eastern–western Mediterranean continuum, with many of its cultures sharing aspects of way of life and ceremony. At the MEG, Diego found himself puzzled with this realization, resulting in a sonic amalgamation that reaches farther away from the rugged mountains of Catalonia than you might perceive at first encounter.

The deeply embedded memory of rite and public ceremony, religious hymn and landscape—sieved through the undercurrent of personal re-emergence, forms the emotional topography of this album. The record does not trace this landscape; it inhabits it. Its repetitive mysticism and ambient, wide-eyed gaze could possibly evoke (perhaps redundant) comparisons to artists such as Dimitris Petsetakis, or Popol Vuh’s late 70’s cinema scores.
The delicate lines between the sacred and the secular – between memory and re-invention – serve as a cipher to understanding this album in its entirety. Titles like Malpàs Mines or Pantocrator’s Portal Outro nudge toward a folkloric and devotional bedrock—places where labor and spirituality coexist, where names preserve both dust and veneration.

Nevertheless, this is far from mere nostalgia. It is a reclamation — singing alongside the spirits of the past, nurturing what still hums beneath the soil. It is an intimate reflection on tradition, rebellion, adolescence, ceremony and fantasy – a pastoral contemplation on what once was and what is to be.

Zonate presents its fifth release, The Roots EP, uniting four tracks from three exciting new voices in the scene. The A1 comes from Guzman with Final Point - a grooving electro cut that builds patiently before unleashing a roaring drop in the second half. Bassy Bee follows with Will Not Hurt You - dark and evolving, driven by growling low-ends and self- recorded vocals. The flip side is all Gaston Cabrera. On B1, Persiguiendo Pesadillas is propelled by a defining arp that touches into prog-trance territory. Closing with B2, A La Luz De Las Velas, Cabrera returns to his South American–infused sound - hypnotic, driving techno / prog.

Unearthed from the tropical pressure of Paraguay’s underground scene. Solo EP debut from Notorious Club Condesa resident: Chavi — Unreleased Data, out now on Pampanam Records. Club-approved and heat-tested, with early support from global selectors. Composed and arranged in Asuncion. Mastered by Analogcut.

Following the success of Highly Refined Pirates' forward-thinking guitar gymnastics and Menos El Oso's groundbreaking glitch rock, Seattle's premier pop revisionists Minus The Bear dug into some of rock music's most ostentatious years for inspiration for their 2007 album, Planet of Ice. The title alone conjures images of Yes's Relayer album art, and the influence of the elder statesmen's symphonic scope can be felt throughout Planet of Ice's lush and intricate arrangements. You can also hear the band channel the ominous instrumental interplay of Lamb-era Genesis on "Dr. L'Ling", the deceptively savvy musicianship and pristine production of Steely Dan on "White Mystery", and the tightrope walk between ethereal space and pre-metal riffage of Pink Floyd's "Echoes" on "Lotus". Not that Minus The Bear completely abandoned their earlier style_elements of Menos El Oso's sample-driven technique can be heard on the lead single "Knights". But the heart of the song ultimately belongs to the haunting Fripp-esque guitar lines spliced between verses. After being out of print on record since 2010, Suicide Squeeze is proud to reintroduce Planet of Ice's creative marriage of classic motifs and modern musical wizardry with a vinyl remaster courtesy of Bernie Grundman.

The Dead 60s seminal self-titled album gets a timely Deluxe edition reissue on Vinyl for its 20th Anniversary, on Deltasonic Records



“Back in the day, punk and dub weren’t just sharing space—they were smashing into each other headfirst. Late '70s Britain was a pressure cooker, and for kids like me, growing up between Brixton’s bass bins and the chaos of King’s Road, that collision was everything. Jamaican sound system culture met punk’s raw spirit in a haze of smoke, sweat, and feedback. It wasn’t about genre—it was about energy. Identity. Defiance. so when The Dead 60s came along, post-Britpop and post-bullshit, it felt like someone had dusted off the blueprint and run it through a battered old tape echo. These weren’t just lads with good taste—they understood the assignment. They took the DNA of two rebel cultures and mutated it into something that could stand tall in the 21st century. Dub-soaked, punk-fuelled, dripping with that Liverpool attitude. I remember first hearing them and thinking—yeah, here we go again. Not in a retro way, but in a real way. Guitars that cut like sirens in the night. Basslines fat and warm, straight out the Channel One playbook. Lyrics that painted the grey corners of Britain like CCTV poetry. It was the sound of youth under pressure. The sound of not fitting in—and not wanting to.

Their debut album dropped in 2005, and it hit like a flare in the dark. “Riot Radio” was a pirate broadcast from the concrete frontlines. “Control This” swaggered with menace and reverb. It was like someone opened a time capsule from the punky-reggae party and rewired it for a new generation.

Now, with this 20th anniversary vinyl reissue—complete with the full dub companion produced by Central Nervous System—we get to hear the bones and blood of it all. The dub versions pull the tracks apart and let the ghosts speak. Reverb, delay, space—it’s not just production, it’s meditation. Revolution slowed down to a heartbeat. It’s music that makes you move and think. What they’ve done here is more than remix a record—they’ve revealed its soul. That’s what dub does when it’s done right. And The Dead 60s, they got that. They weren’t tourists in the culture—they were students of it, shaped by it, and ultimately, contributors to the legacy. Liverpool’s long had a love affair with Jamaican music—you can hear it in the streets if you’re really listening. The Dead 60s tapped into that lineage, but they brought their own thing to the table. Punk's fire. Dub’s depth. Ska’s bounce. All filtered through a Northern lens and blasted out like protest graffiti. This 20th anniversary reissue ain’t about nostalgia. It’s a reminder. A celebration. A call to arms. Music like this doesn’t belong in a museum—it belongs on a system, shaking walls and waking minds. Crate diggers, completists, young punks, old heads—this one's for all of you.

So put it on and turn it up. Let the punk edge sharpen your thoughts, and the dub shake your bones ‘cos this isn’t just a reissue - it’s resistance on wax.....”

‘Icon’ is an overused word when it comes to describing singers and musicians, but when it comes to Nina Simone there are few artists that the word describes more accurately. The ‘High Priestess Of Soul’ is surely one of the most iconic singers of the 20th century, and one whose fame and acclaim stretches far beyond conventional black American music circles. 

Nina Simone has featured on Ace and Kent CDs before but this is the first time she’s had one all to herself. “Let It All Out” is the first and only Nina Simone collection to draw repertoire from every label she recorded for between the late 1950s to the late 1970s. 

Not a traditional ‘Best Of’ or ‘Greatest Hits’ package (although the performances included here ARE among her very best, and do include most of her Greatest Hits!) it is a singles collection that presents Nina Simone’s soul and R&B-slanted 45s in chronological order. Invariably they are the definitive versions of the songs, whether she recorded the original versions or not. 

As well as almost all of her American pop and R&B chart hits from 1960 onwards, “Let It All Out” also contains all of Simone’s UK chart hits from the same period – several of which were more successful here than they were back home, including both versions of her biggest British hit ‘Ain’t Got No; I Got Life’, a UK #2 that did not chart at all in the US as was the case with the belated UK Top 5 hit ‘My Baby Just Cares For Me’ which also made no chart impression on its home turf…

Carefully curated and concisely annotated, “Let It All Out” lets the listener in to two dozen of Nina Simone’s most celebrated singles. There have been many compilations of her works since she passed away 20+ years ago, but none that gets to the heart – and soul – of her catalogue in quite so direct a manner as this one does. 

Difficult as it may be to imagine, there was a time when Sun City Girls did not exist. Prior to the Bishop brothers teaming up with drummer/shaman Charlie Gocher to form SCG's classic trio lineup, there were various ad-hoc assemblages of local Phoenix-area freaks and weirdos – groups which existed only long enough to play a single gig, open mic or house party before disbanding without a trace. Hatched from this milieu was Paris 1942, a short-lived band formed by guitarist Jesse Srogoncik that included Alan Bishop, Richard Bishop and former Velvet Underground drummer Maureen Tucker.

Paris 1942 would play only four shows in as many months, but between April and August of 1982, the band would gather several times a week in Tucker's living room, where the group feverishly wrote and rehearsed with a kind of quotidian discipline. While P42 didn't release anything during their brief tenure, a 7" EP and LP (both self-titled) surreptitiously surfaced on the Majora label in the mid to late '90s. Until now, those two titles – as well as an appearance on Placebo's Amuck comp in late '82 – would be the only documented evidence that this improbable, serendipitous and magnificent band ever existed.

While those expecting P42's music to sound like a tantalizing combination of Sun City Girls' iconoclastic hoodoo havoc and the Velvets' primal drug-chug certainly won't be disappointed, Paris 1942 more often than not transcends even these nearly impossible expectations. Srogoncik's songs, in particular, are a revelation, displaying as much in common with the exuberant raunch of The Gun Club and the chapbook punk of Peter Laughner as they do any of the more obvious touchstones.

The group's foresight to document and capture this meeting of musical minds – a meeting as unlikely as it was short-lived – provides a missing link between the Velvets and the Voidoids, between the Dead Boys and the Dead C, between ESP-Disk' and DNA. Far more than a historical curiosity, Paris 1942 provides a fresh perspective on an embryonic and sadly vanishing US underground. It is music that blinks at the past and anticipates a thousand possible futures.

– James Toth (excerpt from the liner notes)

Turbostaat - Role Model für eine ganze Generation deutschsprachiger Post-Punk-Bands - feiert das 25-jährige Bandbestehen mit der Wiederveröffentlichung ihres Katalogs über das bandeigene Label 18Null9. 'Schwan', ursprünglich 2003 veröffentlicht, erscheint auf 180g schwerem Vinyl mit großem Textheft im Orginal-Artwork.

- Ltd LP: (180g, inkl. Textheft im 7" Format)

Arriving two years after the first chapter, Absurd Matter 2 isn’t just a sequel, it’s an evolution, redrawing the boundaries established by its acclaimed predecessor. The Berlin-based Italian producer tempers his confrontational sonics with rare moments of introspection, shifting seamlessly between blown-out noise, warped hip-hop, mutant club experimentation, and weightless ambience. Textures disintegrate and reassemble, rhythms flex and crumble, and every detail balances on the edge of fantasy. It’s a poetic, layered response to Nino Pedone’s changing physical reality: the gradual hearing loss and perceptual renegotiation triggered by Ménière’s disease, which struck him in 2022. At first, the experience felt like betrayal, a brutal disconnection from the very sense that had shaped his life. But over time, the disorientation turned into a strange kind of focus. The silence between sounds became as expressive as the sounds themselves.
The first Absurd Matter was a visceral reaction to trauma; the second is more reflective – an ambiguous chronicle of sensory recalibration. Pedone doesn’t represent his altered inner reality through extremes, but through depth, zooming in on illusory distortions, tense rhythmic fluctuations, and fragmented sonics. Dense, immersive, and mystical, the album mirrors Pedone’s evolving relationship with perception itself.
Tinnitus-like feedback wails and noir-ish strings introduce “Repeater”, making it immediately clear that Pedone is painting a more delicately finessed image this time around. Fleshed out by raps from cult MCs billy woods and E L U C I D, the track is marked by subtle, sophisticated contrasts: the blurred, inverted rhythms that couch Armand Hammer’s haunted back-and-forth, and the glitchy interference that offsets the lavish orchestral phrases. Backwoodz associate Fatboi Sharif lends his Lynchian drawl to “Bandage Chipped Wings”, grounding Pedone’s lysergic rhythmic distortions with syrupy, horror-inspired couplets. Pedone also invites discomfort into “Crash Landing”, with droning, metallic tones that contradict South Central rapper ICECOLDBISHOP’s elastic flow. “Bitch, I don't give a fuck about anybody,” he squawks over Pedone’s incongruous rasping textures and time-warped beats, “cash out at any party.” Working alongside London’s Loraine James on production, Pedone reunites with Moor Mother on “I Saw The Light”, blending James’ soft-focus atmospherics with soundsystem-damaging, overdriven bass hits and rusted percussive snips. Moor Mother’s assertive words hover over the wreckage, tightening Pedone’s themes of overstimulation and altered awareness as they stutter and veer off course, vanishing into the backdrop.
Contrasting his more pensive experiments, Pedone’s dancefloor deviations are more concentrated on Absurd Matter 2 than ever before. He torches a stuttering dembow structure on “X”, obfuscating the rhythm’s familiar energy with disturbing audio hallucinations. On “Splintered”, he reunites with Kenyan prodigy Slikback, mangling neon-lit trance arpeggios with dissociated trap rhythms. He sharpens his skills to a fine point on “Oblivion Step”, observing 2- step through a lens of distortion and personal abstraction, shaking blipping synth leads over neck-snapping drums and counteracting the momentum with airless sci-fi soundscapes.
Perhaps the album’s most surprising moment arrives with “Viel”, which features vocals from Los Angeles-based composer Kaitlyn Aurelia Smith. Together, Pedone and Smith chance upon their notion of dub techno, fogging synth stabs and ghostly vocal traces into eerie harmonic distortions. On some level, it’s almost pop music, a far cry from the bleak dissonance of Absurd Matter and a hopeful way to reframe turbulence as transformation. Absurd Matter 2 doesn’t simply document a process; it enacts one. It doesn’t offer clarity; it invites disorientation. It’s not a map of the labyrinth, but a foghorn piercing the darkness.

"Magical Thinking", Faraos drittes Studioalbum, entfaltet sich als vielschichtige Reise durch Verlust, Sehnsucht und Verwandlung. In Anlehnung an den Titel und den Geist von Joan Didions "The Year of Magical Thinking" bewegt es sich durch das stille Terrain zwischen Verleugnung und Akzeptanz - wo Trauer nicht gelöst, sondern getragen wird. Es sind Songs über Wiederaufbau und Widerstandsfähigkeit, geprägt von Themen wie Trauer, Mutterschaft und den wesentlichen Ritualen, die uns aufrecht halten, wenn die Klarheit schwindet. Das Album wurde zwischen Oslo und Berlin aufgenommen und pulsiert mit dem Flair des R&B der 90er Jahre, dem Glanz der 80er-Disco und der kontemplativen Schwungkraft des spirituellen Jazz - allesamt verankert durch Faraos intime Vocals und komplexe Arrangements. Vom ersten Schimmern von ,Waiting for You", wo Herzschmerz in Pailletten gekleidet ist und ein Groove an Robyn und Chaka Khan erinnert, lädt uns das Album in eine Welt ein, in der Sehnsucht zum Leuchten gebracht wird. In ,Spiritual Garden", benannt nach einer flüchtigen Textzeile von Janet Jackson, schafft Farao eine feuchte, narkotische R&B-Träumerei. Percussion im Stil von Timbaland und seidige Basslines umhüllen die unerwarteten Texturen ihrer Zither und beschwören eine Meditation über Verlassenheit und die fragile Rückeroberung des Selbstwertgefühls herauf. Wenn ,Dreamy Ride" einsetzt - wo Aaliyahs Coolness auf Dorothy Ashbys kosmische Harfe trifft -, gleitet das Album in nächtliche Bewegungen, eine R&B-Fantasie für nächtliche Autofahrten um 2 Uhr morgens, wobei ihre Zither sich wie ein Leitstern durch den Mix webt. Der verspielte Synth-Jam ,Hey Ladies" und eine kühne Neuinterpretation von Brandys ,Full Moon" lockern die Stimmung in der Mitte des Albums auf. Ersterer ist eine freche, einminütige Hommage an Destiny's Child, letzterer eine nächtliche Elegie, die einen geliebten Klassiker in tiefe Bässe und schimmernde Synthesizer hüllt. Dann kommt ,Xiang Xiang", ein intimes Intermezzo, das um eine geflüsterte Stimme einer Freundin herum aufgebaut ist und uns an die realen Bindungen erinnert, die Faraos üppiges Klanguniversum erden. Im Zentrum des Albums steht der Titeltrack ,Magical Thinking", der direkt auf Didions Memoiren Bezug nimmt. Hier zeichnen pulsierende Synthesizer und schwebende Vocals die verschwommene Grenze zwischen Präsenz und Dissoziation nach. Es folgt ,Endelig" (,endlich" auf Norwegisch), ein tiefes Ausatmen - ein minimalistisches, spirituelles Jazz-Intermezzo, das die Illusion einer Auflösung vermittelt. Farao tut sich dann mit dem Ambient-Pionier Laraaji für ,Voice Continues" zusammen, einer weitläufigen, von der Vierten Welt inspirierten Meditation, in der Zither, mehrschichtige Vocals und Synth-Texturen einen Klangteppich bilden, der die Spuren mütterlicher Liebe über Generationen hinweg nachzeichnet. ,Tschüssi" (ein luftiger deutscher Abschiedsgruß) wird zum Gefäß für etwas weit Schwerwiegenderes: ein Abschied, durchzogen von sich wiederholenden Erinnerungen und emotionaler Desorientierung, aufgebaut um ein gespenstisches Fragment aus Faraos Track ,Marry Me". Das Album schließt mit ,Sleep It O" zu einer verschwommenen, gnädigen Note, einem Wiegenlied für die Überwältigten - eine letzte Erlaubnis, sich auszuruhen, loszulassen, sich einfach hinzulegen. Keine Verheißung der Heilung, sondern eine mitfühlende Pause in einem Album, das von Sehnsucht und Illusion geprägt ist. RIYL: Erika de Casier, Tirzah, Sade, Kelela, Qendresa, Caroline Polachek, Solange

In einer Welt, die von zwei Monden umkreist wird, tanzen die Mondphasen im Gleichklang und beeinflussen die Gezeiten. Unter diesen Lichtamuletten liegt die Landschaft, in der SAINTSENECAs neues Album ,Highwallow & Supermoon Songs" entstanden ist. Zac Little wirkt an der Oberfläche subtil, aber die Kunstfertigkeit in jeder seiner Phrasen ist fast überwältigend. HIGHWALLLOW & SUPERMOON SONGS findet seine Stimme in ihrer elastischsten Form, reitet auf den Hügeln seiner Heimat, schwirrt vorbei wie eine Libelle und legt sich dann ruhig wie ein alter Hofhund.

Jessika Kenney ist Sängerin, Komponistin, Autorin, Klangkünstlerin und Lehrerin, deren Engagement für Improvisation, Poesie und Klangforschung eine einzigartige Perspektive hervorgebracht hat. Ihre Erkundungen von Klang, Raum und der Metaphysik des Klangs wurden in vielen Kontexten und an vielen Orten präsentiert, darunter in der Seattle Public Library, im Nottingham Contemporary und im Benton Museum. Zu ihren Kollaborationen und Projekten gehören eine umfangreiche Diskografie mit Eyvind Kang, das letzte aufgezeichnete Vokalwerk von Alvin Lucier, Auftritte mit Melati Suryodarmo, die Komposition der Vokalmusik für A24s Midsommar und die Chorleitung für SUNN O)))'s Monoliths and Dimensions. Jessika Kenney, bekannt für ihren einzigartigen Umgang mit der Stimme, hat in den letzten zwei Jahrzehnten neue Klangwelten geschaffen, die auf intensiven Studien, rituellen Praktiken und einer ungezähmten Ausdruckskraft beruhen. Von ihren gefeierten Kollaborationen mit Eyvind Kang bis zu ihrer Vokalkomposition für A24s ,Midsommar" bewegen sich Kenneys Arbeiten an der Schnittstelle zwischen dem Heiligen, dem Klangvollen und dem Unsichtbaren. Auf Uranian Void wendet sich Kenney nach innen und spürt den Konturen von Erinnerung, Resonanz und Wahrnehmung nach. Mit verschwommenen Sinuswellen, Hydrofonaufnahmen, einem Ghazal von Hafez und Originaltexten ist das Album eine Meditation über Liminalität, in der Schimmer und Schatten gleichermaßen vibrieren. Kenneys Stimme webt sich durch alles hindurch: manchmal flüsternd, manchmal strahlend , immer präzise. ,Dieses Album ist eine Übung in Transparenz innerhalb der Dunkelheit", erklärt Kenney. ,Es geht darum, offen zu bleiben für Zweifel , für Nachhall, für das, was jenseits unserer Wahrnehmung liegt." ,Uranian Void" wurde von Randall Dunn (SU NN O))), Kali Malone, Annea Lockwood) produziert und aufgenommen, dessen charakteristische räumliche Details und Tiefe dem Album seine immersive Klangarchitektur verleihen. Jeder Ton, jeder Atemzug und jede Resonanz wird mit Intimität und Dimension wiedergegeben und verstärkt Kenneys Erforschung von Präsenz und Abwesenheit. Fragmente, die während Besuchen in Spokane, ihrem Elternhaus, aufgenommen wurden, bilden die Grundlage des Albums. Im Studio transformiert, werden diese zu beschwörenden Vierzeilern - leise, aber eindringlich - die den subtilen Puls von Ort, Zeit und Körper offenbaren. Echos der Vergangenheit verschmelzen mit der Gegenwart , als ob die Wände selbst sich erinnern und mitschwingen würden. Uranian Void ist Musik für Schwellenbereiche - eine Einladung, sich mit dem Unsichtbaren und Kaum hörbar. Mit dieser kraftvollen und poetischen Aussage bestätigt sich Kenney als eine der visionärsten Vokalistinnen der Gegenwart.

A Place In My Memory Is All I Have To Claim is the new album by Australian atmospheric pop trio Hydroplane, the storied 'offshoot' formed by three quarters of independent pop group, The Cat's Miaow. On this, their first music after two decades plus of radio silence, Andrew Withycombe, Kerrie Bolton and Bart Cummings return to the gentle, close-quarters musical world they shared around the turn of the century.

Recorded during 2024 in Melbourne and Ballarat, A Place In My Memory… picks up the thread Hydroplane set down with its precursor, 2001's The Sound Of Changing Places, though you can hear echoes of their other releases, too, with Withycombe noting a through-line from the group's 1998 "Failed Adventure" single. There's little quite like A Place In My Memory…, then or now, though. Maybe you can draw some connections between Hydroplane and their sister group, The Cat's Miaow, while fellow travellers might include Empress, The Ah Club, and further back, Young Marble Giants, Veronique Vincent (the muffled, ticking drum machine also makes me think of Robin Gibb's Robin's Reign).

There's also an umbilical to the bedroom-crafted electronica doing the rounds in the late nineties and early noughties. Hydroplane hint at this through their approach to songwriting, which often builds creatively around loops as structural devices. Through all this, the trio achieve an effortless, organic weightlessness across these nine lovely songs. Many feature Bolton's clear singing voice, drifting along, while guitars, keyboards, drum machines and loops tickertape away. The constituent parts fit together, but they also have a curiously detached quality - think of abstract cloud formations sharing the same sky.

Hydroplane and The Cat's Miaow often dealt in emotional ambiguity and uncertainty, and the uncertainty of the nostalgic. This was always one of the most appealing facets of their music, and A Place In My Memory… is thus named perfectly. I couldn't dream up a better title for the album and its reflections on history, lived experience, and the inevitable tangle between these two phenomena. These reflections variously address such concerns as human cruelty, flight, space travel, adventurism and spiritualism. There's also "To the Lighthouse", not a direct reference to the Virginia Woolf book, but a great title, nonetheless. (They've always had excellent titles, often borrowed, for songs and albums.)

A beautiful collection of drowsy, sleepy pop, humble and quiet, but resolute in its craft, A Place In My Memory Is All I Have To Claim is dream work in practice; a lovely reintroduction. Welcome back, then.

Friend Of A Phantom is the third studio album by the Danish progressive metal band Vola, released under Mascot Label Group. This highly anticipated album showcases Vola's signature blend of intricate rhythms, soaring melodies, and thought-provoking lyrics.

With tracks like "Straight Lines" and "These Black Claws," Friend Of A Phantom takes listeners on a musical journey that seamlessly combines heavy riffs with electronic elements, creating a dynamic sound that is both captivating and innovative.

Vola's musicianship shines through in every song, from the complex drum patterns to the mesmerizing guitar solos. The band's ability to craft intricate arrangements while maintaining a strong sense of melody sets them apart in the progressive metal scene.

The production quality of Friend Of A Phantom is top-notch, allowing each instrument to shine through while still blending together to create a cohesive and immersive listening experience. The album's rich textures and layers reveal new details with each listen, making it a rewarding choice for fans of progressive music.

Overall, Friend Of A Phantom is a must-have for any music lover looking for an album that pushes boundaries and challenges traditional genre conventions. Vola's unique sound and innovative approach make this album a standout release in their discography.

In the late 1970s and early 1980s, South Shields, England's politically motivated punk band, The Angelic Upstarts, saw considerable chart success. Jimmy Pursey of Sham 69 produced their debut album, Teenage Warning (1979), which peaked at No. 29 on the UK Albums Chart and featured singles like "I'm An Upstart" (No. 31) and Teenage Warning (No. 29).
Their third album, 2,000,000 Voices (1981), reached No. 32, while their second, We Gotta Get Out of This Place (1980), peaked at No. 54. Angelic Upstarts Live (1981), a live album, did well as well, peaking at number 27.
Two of the Angelic Upstarts' singles made it into the Top 40, and seven of their singles made it into the UK Top 75. Their early work was marked by sociopolitical critique and unadulterated intensity.
‘Live at The Basins Nightclub’ recorded in 1987 represents a unique summary of that undertaking as well as capturing a rare snapshot of the Upstarts during one of the less well-documented periods of their history. Incl. Sleeve notes from Dick Porter.

A cornerstone of soulful reggae, Lover’s Rock by Jamaican legend Delroy Wilson bridges his deep roots in ska and rocksteady with the smooth, romantic vibes of the UK’s lovers rock movement. It's a noteworthy entry in the lovers rock canon and a testament to Wilson's versatility. Originally released in 1978 by Burning Sounds, this album captures Wilson’s velvet-toned voice over laid-back riddims and heartfelt lyrics—a perfect entry point for fans of both classic reggae and tender love songs.
A must-have for collectors of golden-era reggae and lovers rock enthusiasts alike. Original UK pressing is increasingly rare and prized for its warm analogue sound and classic artwork.
Recommended if you like: John Holt, Gregory Isaacs, Dennis Brown, Sugar Minott.
Released on 180-gram vinyl including sleeve notes and 2 bonus tracks.

Peace and love in late 60s America did not come without parallel feelings of fear and confusion about the social situation – specifically about Vietnam. “Safe In My Garden” is the latest Ace compilation in an acclaimed series compiled by Bob Stanley – it’s a companion piece to the much-praised “State Of The Union (The American Dream In Crisis 1967 – 1973)” Ace CDCHD 1533/XXQLP2 057 2018).

The music on “Safe In My Garden” is harmony-laden, beautifully produced soft rock. Sunshine pop, even - a melodic, innovative style of American music that grew in the mid-60s out of the folk and surf scenes, exemplified by the Beach Boys and the Mamas and Papas. You will hear orchestral arrangements, and soft boy-girl vocals. But it wasn’t made in isolation from what was going on in the outside world. There are clouds and minor chords, plenty of melancholy in those harmonies.

“Safe In My Garden” includes songs of escape (Mark Eric’s ‘Move With The Dawn’, the Groop’s ‘A Famous Myth’), loss (the Eighth Day’s ‘How Can I Stop Loving You’, the New Colony Six’s ‘Prairie Grey’), dreamscapes (Tommy James and the Shondells’ ‘She’, Nancy Priddy’s ‘Christina’s World’), rebirth (Smokey and his Sister’s ‘Creators Of Rain’), a simpler world (the Free Design’s ‘My Brother Woody’) and a philosophically sounder future (Chad & Jeremy’s ‘The Ark’, Best of Friends’ ‘Summer Sound’).

It contains some surprisingly dark messages paired with beautiful melodies, as well as songs of hope. Thousands of young musicians in cities, suburbs and small towns across the States from the mid to late 60s spent their mornings hiding from the mailman, dreading the draft. This is the Sound of Young America in the late 60s, keeping its fingers crossed.

Two years before the legendary trumpeter mysteriously fell from the window of a Dutch hotel, he delivered this high-level live performance on a stage in Bologna, Italy, in 1985.

Accompanied by Philippe Catherine on guitar and Jean-Louis Rassinfosse on double bass, Baker drew on his natural charm, that utterly disarming magnetism which made him deeply moving, even when decline was looming. Baker carried within him that inner fracture, that haunting depth that rendered every note fragile. Released for the first time as a double 180 gram vinyl LP with HD vinyl mastering

Lénok’s 'Langue of Tongue' is a descent. An unhinged pinballing down a realm of incomprehension and lunacy, a darkly psychedelic ego-death-spiral into a world of pure, deranged disquiet. It is, and this cannot be emphasised enough, a truly fucked up place. It comes complete with clearly marked borders delineated by its opening and closing tracks '(Entrance' and 'Exit)’. The message is clear: this is less album than zone.

There's no comfort to be found here. It’s like the inner monologue of some insectile, cyborgian abomination, something unfeeling and hostile, something that could only thrive in a mirror world that perverts light and sullies warmth. It's a netherworld: tracks jut out and stab like cold, craggy wastelandscapes, tangled meshworks of alienic transmissions bleed out into deformed knots of gurgling white noise, lacerations of sound roil and heave and claw as if imprisoned within oppressive waveforms.

‘Tongue’ is marked by a kind of wackiness, a demented slapstick that renders its darkness all the more sinister. Voices wail and taunt like schizophrenic spirits trapped between torment and cackling ecstasy. Tracks giggle and skitter as if populated by grinning, snaggletoothed shadows.

‘Langue of Tongue’ is recommended for the curious and advanced listener. This is music for whatever the opposite of escapism is — it’s REAL twisted. But sometimes morbid fascination takes hold. Sometimes you lift the rock, because you can’t help it, and you observe the squirming mess of life it plays host to. What you experience may not be pleasant, but you might just struggle to tear yourself away.