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One can hardly imagine the genre-busting, culture-crossing musical magic of Outkast, Prince, Erykah Badu, Rick James, The Roots, or even the early Red Hot Chili Peppers without the influence of R&B pioneer Betty Davis. Her style of raw and revelatory punk-funk defies any notions that women can’t be visionaries in the worlds of rock and pop. In recent years, rappers from Ice Cube to Talib Kweli to Ludacris have rhymed over her intensely strong but sensual music.



There is one testimonial about Betty Davis that is universal: she was a woman ahead of her time. In our contemporary moment, this may not be as self-evident as it was thirty years ago – we live in an age that’s been profoundly changed by flamboyant flaunting of female sexuality: from Parlet to Madonna, Lil Kim to Kelis. Yet, back in 1973 when Betty Davis first showed up in her silver go-go boots, dazzling smile and towering Afro, who could you possibly have compared her to? Marva Whitney had the voice but not the independence. Labelle wouldn’t get sexy with their “Lady Marmalade” for another year while Millie Jackson wasn’t Feelin’ Bitchy until 1977. Even Tina Turner, the most obvious predecessor to Betty’s fierce style wasn’t completely out of Ike’s shadow until later in the decade.



Ms. Davis’s unique story, still sadly mostly unknown, is unlike any other in popular music. Betty wrote the song “Uptown” for the Chambers Brothers before marrying Miles Davis in the late ’60s, influencing him with psychedelic rock, and introducing him to Jimi Hendrix — personally inspiring the classic album Bitches Brew.



But her songwriting ability was way ahead of its time as well. Betty not only wrote every song she ever recorded and produced every album after her first, but the young woman penned the tunes that got The Commodores signed to Motown. The Detroit label soon came calling, pitching a Motown songwriting deal, which Betty turned down. Motown wanted to own everything. Heading to the UK, Marc Bolan of T. Rex urged the creative dynamo to start writing for herself. A common thread throughout Betty’s career would be her unbending Do-It-Yourself ethic, which made her quickly turn down anyone who didn’t fit with the vision. She would eventually say no to Eric Clapton as her album producer, seeing him as too banal.



Her 1974 sophomore album They Say I’m Different features a worthy-of-framing futuristic cover challenging David Bowie’s science fiction funk with real rocking soul-fire, kicked off with the savagely sexual “Shoo-B-Doop and Cop Him” (later sampled by Ice Cube). Her follow up is full of classic cuts like “Don’t Call Her No Tramp” and the hilarious, hard, deep funk of “He Was A Big Freak.”

As the winds of music blow, a wise heart navigates the spiral, finding wisdom in each of its twists and turns.

As the releases of DUBBLACK’s catalogue pile up, the novelty and exploration for new music keeps on thriving.


A brand-new record is approaching, as always available both on a 12” vinyl – limited to 300 copies – and in digital format, featuring the presence of two Masters from the Electronic Music scene: A2 Abd El Monim and Tocchitek.


The two-track EP baptised “Dark Side” includes the gems “Euriale” and “Steno”; two expansive compositions that, also due to their length, masterly observe the task of narrating two complementary stories, each with its distinct moments, yet marked by a strong rhythmic temper. Both tracks are planned to share similar sonic elements: a pulsating 160 bpm kick drum, ghostly pads serving as an inevitable backdrop, and indispensable rhythmic details enriching the whole structure and arrangement.


A2 Abd El Monim, born Alan Abd El Monim, is an Italian-Egyptian artist/composer. He expresses himself through the creation of music ranging from electronic to purely instrumental, and through the interaction between the arts. His poetics opens in a “dark” dimension that considers and interprets the facts through the notion of shadows and darkness but also through penombre. His “dark” vision stands as a filter through which he reads the world and its interactions, therefore using also the notion of light. His music has been performed in Festivals including Musica d’arte (Riccione – Italy), Luci d’Artista (Salerno – Italy), GAMO (Firenze – Italy), Spazio Musica (Cagliari – Italy), On Air – On site (Den Haag -Netherlands), Sound Spaces (Malmö – Sweden), etc.


He composed songs for the solo exhibition “La pelle degli oggetti” and for works Lui&Lei by the artist Giovanni Oberti. In 2020 he undertook a collaboration with the poet Milo De Angelis , putting to music the lyric “A volte , sull’orlo della notte, si rimane sospesi”. He wrote music for several theatre performances by director Emily Tartamelli and has written music for several directors films including Reto Gelshorn, Enea Francia, Paola Piscitelli and Fabio Corbellini. He collaborated with the London based fashion brand B DODI and was invited as an artist to participate in the collective exhibition “Instructions to Light-Keepers” (Milano – Italy). In March 2023, “Periodo Nero”, its interactive and generative installation music and video, was selected for the tribute to Picasso in the city of Florence, will be presented at the Certosa of Florence in September of the same year. In 2017 he won the International Competition of Composizione Silenzio Musica, in 2020 the diploma from President and Artistic Director of Winterreise International Composition Competition Moscow, in 2021 the Call For Scores banned by the Cultural Association Esecutori di Metallo su Carta. A2 Abd El Monim is signed to international label F.M.T Records and Dubblack Records, with which he regularly publishes his electronic music.


Tocchitek is an underground Tekno producer and performer born in Milan, Italy. He started playing live in 2007 as part of the “Approdo Caronte” sound system based in Milan. His first significant appearance as a live performer was at a “Mayday Parade” in 2008 in Milan. In 2009, he joined the “R909 Records” chapters crew based in Milan, bringing his live set to many local club dance floors. Meanwhile, he collaborated and played with many crews around Europe, spreading his music in the free Underground Tekno movement. In 2021, in Milan, he launched “F.M.T Records”.


Simplicity is often the hardest thing to achieve when producing this type of music, primarily designed for uncompromising dance-floors, but the duo successfully channels their message with purity and truthfulness.


The visual aspects of layout and design are once again entrusted to Vittorio Valigi, who puts a greyscale spiral at the center of the cover. A spiral within which one an eye can be glimpsed – the eye of the musical soul of DUBBLACK harmoniously fused with that of A2 Abd El Monim and Tocchitek, who become worthy ambassadors of the Dubblack’s sonic mission.

"Remembering is not the opposite of forgetting," Casey MQ sings at the start of Later that day, the day before, or the day before that, his new LP and Ghostly International debut. It's a phrase fittingly misremembered from something the LA-based, Canadian-born composer came upon as he spiraled into unconscious and subconscious-led writing sessions at the piano. Casey's known for his 2020 breakthrough release babycasey, which gave voice to songs seen through the lens of childhood, various film score work and collaborations with artists such as Oklou (who returns here), Eartheater, and Vagabon. His gifts as a producer and songwriter are rooted in textural world-building and the excavation of personal truth. With Later that day... he questions what is true entirely, understanding our mind's tendency to bend and project onto pictures of the past. Across vivid, baroque pop balladry, Casey MQ reorients his recording project and point of view under the notion that memories are malleable. All the joy, pain, love, and loss housed within remembrance is open to interpretation and deconstruction, which he does deftly, with curiosity and complete artistic freedom. "It's a memory album," Casey puts it simply, winding up for the deeper unpacking, "and it might be a breakup album, too_there are more questions than answers." Engaging his dreams and sitting with sheet music at his newly acquired piano, he looked to new and old inspirations including the works of Claude Debussy, Joni Mitchell, and Joe Hisaishi's beloved Studio Ghibli film scores. "Since I was young, I always wanted to write a piano album." babycasey's studied electronic sound isn't wholly abandoned on Later that day... instead, it comes through like an atmosphere, giving Casey's more spacious, minimal arrangements a distinct luster and sheen. The textures and tones shift from song to song as if mirroring the way our minds constantly recontextualize, remember, and forget. Cathartic opener "Grey Gardens" _ its title derived from a dream abstractly related to the Toronto restaurant, but not the 1975 film, which he cites as another coincidental false memory _ presents the record's plaintive, haunted feeling. "Even if not reading into lyrics, sonically I wanted it to feel like you're being pulled into a universe. Not fantasy or otherworldly per se, something more tangible, of the body and mind," Casey says. "Hearing it back, I realized this track was the key to unlocking it." His tender falsetto hovers above ambient washes and echoed keys, each word falling carefully in the crevices. "Asleep At The Wheel" unfolds on arpeggiated synth before a burst of symphonic color; the synth returns inverted to harmonize with the outro, "I love a car crash, I love a story, I love a memory, I swear it's real..." Casey leans into digital imagination on the warm, introspective "Me I Think I Found It." Subdued, stuttered percussion underscores the singer as he cycles through pixelated imagery _ screenshots, smiles, streetlights _ searching for higher meaning through love. Built on ascendent chord distortions, "Dying Til I'm Born" gives the record one of its boldest pulses of emotion. The back half stretches out; "Is This Only Water" is sparse and foggy, "Baby Voice" is intimate and desperate for something to remain. "Words For Love" grooves on guitar, and "Tennisman9" aches in heartbreak. French musician Marylou Mayniel, aka Oklou, appears as the collection's only guest for the closing duet, "The Make Believe," a bright and buoyant send-off that gives Later that day... both a sense of resolve and cyclical-motion. "We are young, under the sun," they sing together, a parting image brimming with lightness.

"Remembering is not the opposite of forgetting," Casey MQ sings at the start of Later that day, the day before, or the day before that, his new LP and Ghostly International debut. It's a phrase fittingly misremembered from something the LA-based, Canadian-born composer came upon as he spiraled into unconscious and subconscious-led writing sessions at the piano. Casey's known for his 2020 breakthrough release babycasey, which gave voice to songs seen through the lens of childhood, various film score work and collaborations with artists such as Oklou (who returns here), Eartheater, and Vagabon. His gifts as a producer and songwriter are rooted in textural world-building and the excavation of personal truth. With Later that day... he questions what is true entirely, understanding our mind's tendency to bend and project onto pictures of the past. Across vivid, baroque pop balladry, Casey MQ reorients his recording project and point of view under the notion that memories are malleable. All the joy, pain, love, and loss housed within remembrance is open to interpretation and deconstruction, which he does deftly, with curiosity and complete artistic freedom. "It's a memory album," Casey puts it simply, winding up for the deeper unpacking, "and it might be a breakup album, too_there are more questions than answers." Engaging his dreams and sitting with sheet music at his newly acquired piano, he looked to new and old inspirations including the works of Claude Debussy, Joni Mitchell, and Joe Hisaishi's beloved Studio Ghibli film scores. "Since I was young, I always wanted to write a piano album." babycasey's studied electronic sound isn't wholly abandoned on Later that day... instead, it comes through like an atmosphere, giving Casey's more spacious, minimal arrangements a distinct luster and sheen. The textures and tones shift from song to song as if mirroring the way our minds constantly recontextualize, remember, and forget. Cathartic opener "Grey Gardens" _ its title derived from a dream abstractly related to the Toronto restaurant, but not the 1975 film, which he cites as another coincidental false memory _ presents the record's plaintive, haunted feeling. "Even if not reading into lyrics, sonically I wanted it to feel like you're being pulled into a universe. Not fantasy or otherworldly per se, something more tangible, of the body and mind," Casey says. "Hearing it back, I realized this track was the key to unlocking it." His tender falsetto hovers above ambient washes and echoed keys, each word falling carefully in the crevices. "Asleep At The Wheel" unfolds on arpeggiated synth before a burst of symphonic color; the synth returns inverted to harmonize with the outro, "I love a car crash, I love a story, I love a memory, I swear it's real..." Casey leans into digital imagination on the warm, introspective "Me I Think I Found It." Subdued, stuttered percussion underscores the singer as he cycles through pixelated imagery _ screenshots, smiles, streetlights _ searching for higher meaning through love. Built on ascendent chord distortions, "Dying Til I'm Born" gives the record one of its boldest pulses of emotion. The back half stretches out; "Is This Only Water" is sparse and foggy, "Baby Voice" is intimate and desperate for something to remain. "Words For Love" grooves on guitar, and "Tennisman9" aches in heartbreak. French musician Marylou Mayniel, aka Oklou, appears as the collection's only guest for the closing duet, "The Make Believe," a bright and buoyant send-off that gives Later that day... both a sense of resolve and cyclical-motion. "We are young, under the sun," they sing together, a parting image brimming with lightness.

Luther Vandross was more than just a great singer. An elegant and warmhearted New Yorker who became one of popular music's most beloved performers, from his solo breakthrough in the early '80s to his untimely death in 2005, Vandross was a vocalist whose understanding of singing as an art form was so profound, he changed notions of what it could be. On March 23, 1977, Vandross's album 'This Close to You', with his group Luther, enchanted listeners with soulful tunes and deep lyrics, further cementing his status in the music industry. This is a x12 trk, standard Black LP vinyl & CD. Marketing activity.

"Det Foranderlige Instrument" music for 24 Yamaha DX-7 synthesizers by Danish composer, musician and teacher Anders P Jensen. Departing from its iconic 80s pop sound, Anders P Jensen breathes new life into the DX-7, leveraging complex instrument preparations inspired by musical luminaries like Harry Partch and Björk, resulting in mesmerizing electronic symphony across 12 movements, where the instrument evolves autonomously, challenging conventional notions of composition. Besides Anders P Jensen on synthesizers, the album also features Zhang Yu on guzheng. "Study No. 11" is composed by Conlon Nancarrow, here arranged for the DX-7s. "Det Foranderlige Instrument" which translates as "The Ever Changing Instrument" is Anders P Jensen second release on Escho.

“Not a lot of people talk about the true origins of bluegrass music,” says Swamp Dogg, “but it came from Black people. The banjo, the washtub, all that stuff started with African Americans. We were playing it before it even had a name.” Blackgrass, Swamp Dogg’s remarkable new album, is no history lesson, though. Produced by Ryan Olson (Bon Iver, Poliça) andrecorded with an all-star band including Noam Pikelny, Sierra Hull, Jerry Douglas, Chris Scruggs, Billy Contreras, and Kenny Vaughan, the collection is a riotous blend of past and present, mixing the sacred and the profane in typical Swamp Dogg fashion as it blurs the lines between folk, roots, country, blues, and soul. The tracklist is an eclectic one—brand new originals and vintage Swamp Dogg classics sit side by side with reimaginings of ’70s R&B hits and timeless ’50s pop tunes—but the performances are thoroughly cohesive, filtering everything through a progressive Appalachian lens that nods to tradition without ever being bound by it. Special guests like Margo Price, Jenny Lewis, Justin Vernon, and The Cactus Blossoms all add to the excitement here, but it’s ultimately the 81-year-old Swamp Dogg’s delivery—sly and playful and full of genuine joy and ache—that steals the show. The result is a record that’s as reverent as it is raunchy, a collection that challenges conventional notions of genre and race while at the same time celebrating the music that helped make Swamp Dogg the beloved iconoclast he’s known as today.

Upchuck are experiencing a moment. The Atlanta punk collective just came off multiple tour runs with their good friend Faye Webster. Their Ty Segall-produced second album Bite The Hand That Feeds, with all its buzzsaw guitars and high-speed rippers and headbanging sludge, arrived in October. Later this year, they’ll make appearances at multiple festivals including Coachella. In the midst of relentlessly barreling ahead, the band and their label Famous Class are taking a beat to revisit how they got here. After working with Segall on Bite the Hand That Feeds, the band floated the notion that they wished they could hear what their collaborator could do with the songs on their 2022 debut album Sense Yourself. Holed up in his studio over Christmas with COVID and nothing else to do, Ty Segall began toying with Sense Yourself, sifting through folders of unlabeled stems to find the best guitar parts, emboldening the drum sound, and bringing greater clarity to KT’s vocals, all while bolstering the urgency of the band’s overall attack. With Segall’s new mix, Upchuck’s intense and righteous debut now impossibly overflows with even more fuzz and fury. In Segall, they found a kindred spirit whose studio approach made sense for just how hard they wanted this music to hit. “When we first went to record with Ty for Bite the Hand That Feeds, Mikey and I walked into the guitar room and Ty said, ‘Don’t touch the EQs.’ We looked at the amp and everything was on 10 except the master volume,” Hoff said. Previously, the band had been encouraged to capture the unvarnished sound of the studio. They’d toured with Segall’s band Fuzz, so everybody had the same goal while recording together: Capture the electricity of their intense live set. The band’s shows have a reputation for coming unglued, and there’s no greater document of that than Sense Yourself’s iconic album artwork. With no text, it’s a candid photo of a moment from a show shot on film without editing: blood streaked across KT’s face as they shout into the mic. In the middle of their EP release show, KT was in the pit as a fan started crowd surfing inside a shopping cart. A loose piece of metal near a wheel caught the singer right near the eyebrow and blood was everywhere, an instant piece of iconography snapped by probably every camera phone in the room. When Hoff revisits the message of this first album and Upchuck’s first songs, he thinks back to the year before the band even started when he and KT were hanging out. “We were sitting around talking for eight hours like ‘fuck, that's fucked up, that's fucked up.’” Upchuck became a vehicle for these five people to process how fucked up everything it is—to digest these formative hours-long conversations and put them to bludgeoning, intense rock music. The music is also fun as hell, and that’s part of the point. “There's a lot we need to do as people and a lot of things we need to fix in society but also like come on man like have your fun, wild out, have your drink,” KT says. “But be on your shit at the same time. Check your folk.”

In one sense, it’s easy for artists—songwriters, specifically—to express their feelings in their work. After all, that’s what the lyrics are for! But it’s much harder to convey emotional energy in how you play, slash at the guitar, and the structure of the music itself. That’s precisely why Girl and Girl’s Sub Pop debut, Call A Doctor, feels like such a vital, electrifying shock to the senses. Not since the early work of Car Seat Headrest or Conor Oberst’s widescreen emotional brutality as Bright Eyes has indie rock managed to come across as this intimate and grandiose, as the Australian quartet led by Kai James lay a lifetime’s worth of woes—mental health, the human race’s planned obsolescence if you’ve been living on this cursed rock you know what we’re getting at—across a canvas of indie rock that feels both timeless and in-the-moment.

An audacious and aggressively tuneful blast of a record, Call A Doctor is an unforgettable first bow from Girl and Girl, whose origins lie in James and guitarist Jayden Williams jamming in his mother’s garage in the afternoon after school. One afternoon, James’ Aunty Liss headed down to their practice space after walking her dog and asked if she could sit in on drums. “It sounded really great,” James recalls. “We begged her to stay, and she said, ‘I’ll stay until you find another drummer.’ We wore her down, and she eventually became a permanent member.”

After bassist Fraser Bell joined to round things out, Girl and Girl hit the road and began to make a name for themselves beyond the Australian bush, eventually signing to Sub Pop off the strength of word of mouth. Call A Doctor came together quickly soon after, largely recorded in marathon sessions in a two-story industrial complex over the course of two weeks. “That added to the intensity of the album,” James says about the frenzied creative process overseen by producer Burke Reid. “I can hear the stress in the record, which is good because that’s what it’s about—being tense, tied up, and in your own head.”

Call A Doctor’s eleven songs—spanning sweeping guitar epics and wry acoustic shuffles to spiky punk maneuvers and the type of raw, adoringly unvarnished indie-pop associated with legendary PacNW label K Records—are literally plucked from James’ personal history, as he reworked older recordings with newer lyrics reflecting his past struggles as well as new anxieties that emerged prior to the album’s recording. “I’ve struggled with mental health for a lot of my life,” he explains, “and I went through a particularly difficult patch when we were making the album; the band had started to get some attention, and I felt an enormous amount of pressure to live up to it.”

Far from the sound of collapsing under pressure, Call A Doctor finds James and Co. stepping up with their entire collective chest. This is a record that’s so out-and-out alive that you nearly feel like you’re in the same room with Girl and Girl as you listen to it; lead single “Hello” practically bursts through the speakers, amplified by Aunty Liss’ unbelievable stickhandling duties. “‘Hello’ is all about romanticizing your own misery. Letting those deep, dark, dirty thoughts take over. Understanding that even if you could pull yourself out, you wouldn’t because the constant stress and worry is far too familiar and comfortable.”

“Mother” pogos on a spiky groove that’s reminiscent of the geographically close New Zealanders who make up the legendary Flying Nun label, while “Oh Boy” draws from the Shins’ own jangly sound, injected with James’ wonderfully nervy vocals. Then there’s Call A Doctor’s sorta-centerpiece “Maple Jean and the Anthropocene,” a five-minute epic offering a new perspective on climate change and the notion of what it means, in a personal sense, to suffer: “I live in the bushland, and I was driving home one night and hit and killed a wallaby with my car,” James recalls while discussing the song’s lyrical inspiration. “My first thought was, ‘What is the universe trying to tell me?’ No remorse, no guilt, just total self-centeredness. Which was like, Woah, you fucking psychopath! This wallaby wasn’t put on this earth to send you a message. That’s what the song is about, our egocentric species - thinking you’re the main character and that everything that happens is somehow about you.”

“This record is about an individual who’s too far in their head, trying to get out,” James continues while discussing Call A Doctor’s overall outlook—specifically the snapshot it offers of its creator. But even though this record deals with uneasy topics we all know well from within ourselves, it’s important to emphasize how teeming with life Girl and Girl’s music is. There’s a brazen, bold sense of humor to this stuff, an undeniable brightness to the darkness that makes it impossible not to be drawn in as a listener. Feeling down never sounded so goddamn good.

Containing the hits that were only deemed misses by the critics that condemned Oi! as some kind of subcultural fad that favoured football and violence way above the bloody good tunes that should by rights occupy the higher rank, 4 Skins, The Unreleased Radio & Studio Sessions encapsulates that energy at its finest. From formidable swarms of police brutality and political injustice, the underlying (and unyielding) socio-political messages experienced from the streets that resonated with every estranged clockwork skinhead of the day are bound to be ticked on every track. After the atmospheric crash of One Law for Them, dropped in amongst the Radio and blistering Bumper Sessions with Evil sitting squarely in its unpolished centre is the ska-inflected gallop of Seems To Me, an unreleased tune reinforcing the notion that there was more to Oi! than meets the laces.

2x7"
Not so long ago Marlena Shaw was a forgotten figure. The talented vocalist had made several LPs for respected labels such as Cadet and Blue Note, and she'd performed regularly throughout the '60s and '70s. But she hardly had what you might call diva status. Falling into the unfortunate category that slips uneasily between soul and jazz, she was accepted - but not especially admired - by aficionados of either genre. Then came the '90s, and an open-minded enthusiasm for soul and jazz - and more importantly - everything in between - soon changed that. Marlena Shaw became an icon, and the diva status soon blossomed amongst her new-found soul-jazz fans.

Respect is a word that means much to any singer. The artist who stands up in the bright lights before an audience that has handed over their hard-earned cash has only their physical presence and naked voice to rely on. There is no hiding when you're on stage, you're the focus of attention and everybody is gawping at you. The singer yearns to communicate and entertain, and in return not only asks for appreciation and acceptance, but respect. To this end Marlena Shaw has endured decades of singing in the shadows, and she has only recently finally found her niche.

On Disc One we have 'California Soul', probably the most enduring and well-known of her many songs, but just a few seconds listening will tell you that it is much more than that. It's already a classic amongst those who have already seen the light and have danced and swayed to its timeless swing. Upon hearing it all lovers of soul, jazz – or any other kind of good music - will feel an aural glow as warm as the Californian sun. The song 'Liberation Conversation' on the flip was only ever available on her highly revered 1969 LP 'The Spice of Life'. This is where the 'Blues ain't nothing but a good woman gone bad' launches into an irresistible, relentless uptempo funk groove.

Disc Two showcases 'Wade in the Water', an ancient song rumoured to have been developed and popularised by slaves in the American south. The message is to pass on the notion that by fleeing in a bid for freedom through streams and rivers, the scent that bloodhounds use to follow their victims will be obscured. Marlena's version has long been a favourite dancefloor filler since its 45-only release back in 1966.

'Woman of the Ghetto' is one of her best-known songs and ends the set on the other side. The opening number from 'The Spice of Life', it's since been recognised for the classic it is, and as such has been afforded anthemic status. We release the original 45 version here, as used to promote the LP back in the day.

This special 2x7" product from Jazzman is dedicated to the memory of Marlena Shaw, b. 22 September 1939, d. 19 January 2024.

ACxDC—full name Antichrist Demoncore—are anything but subtle. So to make sure that their message is heard loud and clear, they take things a step further, smashing these ambiguous, sophisticated, and abstract notions into a pulp and shoving them down throats. What’s left are sharp, caustic, and unabashedly vicious bits of truth and poisonous tongue-in-cheek propelled by bursts of powerviolence, metallized hardcore, and grindcore. Over the seventeen short songs, the music closely follows these themes.

Daga Voladora's last album came out in 2016. To alleviate such a long wait, only a couple of celebrated singles. Now, finally, Cristina Plaza (identity gracefully hidden under the Daga Voladora name that was before Gran Aparato Eléctrico and also a quarter of Los Eterno and half of Clovis) releases an album and does it, for the first time, in vinyl format. "Los manantiales" is the title of the happy and long-awaited return of an artist that never completely left.

"Los manantiales" ("The Springs") refers to all those sources from which I drink to make my songs: Stereolab, Broadcast, Galaxie 500, Cate Le Bon... And also some of the flamenco language. Flamenco in my own way, of course," explains Plaza. "Los manantiales" will also bring echoes of acts that the artist has not practiced as much such as Esclarecidos, Vainica Doble, Ana D or Kikí d'Akí. Deep voices for songs with substance.

But there is also that other idea of the spring that gushes forth when it can no longer be contained. "It has taken me so many years to make this album because I had a prejudice related to the previous one "Primer segundo" in which there was a coherence. Not finding that concept or thinking that this or that wasn't Daga Voladora, I couldn't get into it. Until I decided that maybe I didn't have to impose such a rigid direction on myself..."

Sketched in a town bordering Ávila where Plaza decided to get lost in the summer of 2022 and then finished off in a basement in Madrid for several months, the nine songs of "Los manantiales" make up a short album, premeditatedly short ("I don't like the songs to be longer than 2:50") but, above all, varied. Because, as can be sensed in the song Quise ser ( "I wanted to be a fictional hero, an expressionist painter, a promising actress"), here are all the imagined Cristinas and their different lives ("The song Lejos de la multitud is that longing of mine to be a vagabond"), an unmistakable sign that, as the artist confesses, "I am my own spring". And all this joyful dispersion comes from the premise with which Plaza approached the album: "I said to myself: 'Let's play'. I set out to have a good time. Suddenly, I wanted to do a dub track and I came up with Fosforito or a rock song like Lou Reed in the 80s and there was 'Me vi penando'. I wanted a rock record, an experimental record, something like Broadcast, and a musical! I wanted to do a thousand things!"

The result is a playful album, very enjoyable; but above all elegant and extremely precise. In both form and substance. Thus, the melodies are so rounded at first listen; the music would work perfectly on its own, stripped of lyrics that respond to the maxim, so often ignored, that there is really only one way to say things. "I have tried to refine the texts a lot. There are some phrases taken from Steinbeck, other things that emerge in a somewhat magical way. There's also Gary Snyder, Kerouac and his Dharma Bums, echoes of California..."

It's an album made, as usual with her, in the most absolute solitude (except for the collaboration of Andrés Arregui on sax and the final mix by Fino Oyonarte). Bareback. "I recorded everything with my computer, with my instruments, my analog keyboards, my rhythm boxes, little noises I make around... I don't make demos. I just do it. In a rough way. What I do do is repeat. The good thing about this method is that many things happen spontaneously and that's where they stay".

An album that, for all of the above, responds to the best notion of caprice. A whimsical whim, signed and finished off by the splendid cover designed by Beatriz Lobo, which feartures a painting ('La chica del King Creole') by the legendary artist Javier de Juan.

In "Los manantiales" there are many possible worlds, as many dreamed ones. Of course, those of Daga Voladora (not in vain, the album opens with a song titled Cristinópolis), but also those of any curious and sensitive listener who, by the way, will find more than one musical wink along the way. You just have to be attentive.

Earth, Our Planet?”: A call for environmental awareness. This time, Pedro Vian - the founder of Modern Obscure Music - presents his fourth solo album (following his 2020 release, "Ibillorca"). Due for release in spring 2024, "Earth, Our Planet?" promises to immerse us in a moving odyssey, crossing the boundaries of musical genres to provoke an urgent meditation on the protection of our planet. On this occasion Vian has composed the album influenced by the myth of the eternal return, the compositions are long and repetitive, generating states of pure trance.
Pedro Vian, singular for his fusion of genres and styles, ventures into even more complex territories in "Earth, Our Planet?". From the first listen, it is evident that this work treads the line of convention and breaks the boundaries of electronic and experimental music with artistic dexterity. The album weaves together texture, hypnotic rhythms and melody. Each track reveals his distinctive ability to create immersive landscapes, guiding the listener into deep emotional introspection. This is not just music; it is a transformative experience.
The beauty of this album lies not only in the musical vision. The album features high-calibre collaborations that add layers of creativity and elegance. Trumpeter Pierre Bastien, whose early productions left an indelible mark on Aphex Twin's Reflex label, infuses "A Day in Rotterdam" with a unique emotional resonance. Violinist, Asia, renowned for her avant-garde approach and ability to conjure unique landscapes, elevates the album's opening tracks "Urobóros" and "Les Tambours Subterraniens". Their skill and sensitivity intertwine perfectly with Vian's artistic vision. In addition, Italian producer Daniele Mana, with whom Pedro Vian collaborated closely on his previous album "Cascades", known for his experimental approach and talent for creating extraterrestrial atmospheres also contributes to "Les Tambours Subterraniens". His artistic perspective adds more complexity and texture to the piece, pushing the boundaries of contemporary electronic music. There is also a collaboration with Raül Refree, an artist with whom Vian worked with last year, presenting “Font De la Vera Pau”, an album that The Guardian defined as "a wonderful piece of electroacoustic music, a captivating mix of strings and analogue synth drones which sometimes flirts with Alice Coltrane-ish spiritual jazz". With "Earth, Our Planet?", Pedro Vian not only offers up some of his best work to date, but it is also a call to reflect on our relationship with the natural world. As a part of a planet where environmental awareness is more crucial than ever, he urges us to protect and preserve our world as an extension of ourselves. This extensive work is a statement, Vian addresses the notion that too often we prioritise immediate needs over the well-being of the planet. It highlights the fact that we often consider the Earth as a possession when, in reality, we are but a part of it.

DJ Support: Danny Krivit, Craig Charles (BBC Radio 6 Music), Hallex M, Jazzanova, Delite Radio, Mi Soul, Pointblank, Totally Wired Radio, XFM, Radio Solar, Tony Minvielle, Simon Phillips, Chris Phillips (Jazz FM), KCRW DJs, Ian Friday, Aroop Roy, Samantha Badd (Café Del Mar), Mr. V, Simon Harrison (Basic Soul), Greame Park, Mike Fossati, Timo Mass, Deli G, Servino (Horse Meat Disco), Hyenah.

‘Badly Written Songs’ is, of course, a tongue-in-cheek title. It comprises a carefully structured and well-produced array of songwriting, topped and tailed with live instrumentation, commanding vocal performances and high-end production: the result of years of sound engineering and music production experience. Since the last album, Ross Hillard has continually honed his skills whilst earnestly crafting this sophomore long player. As well as developing a range of audio plugins, Ross also manages recording sessions at his own Paddocks Recording Studios: huge live spaces boast cutting-edge technology, integrated with distinguished analogue kit. The studio is complemented by a collection of prized microphones, together with a fully-restored vintage Raindirk mixing desk.

The opening track and first single from this album is the positively-anthemic gem entitled ‘Good Morning Sunshine’. It tells a forward-looking story promoting the merits of getting back into the driving seat of life. It’s propelled further by superb jazz-inspired drums and live horns that build up to an exhilarating crescendo. Featuring the vocal talents of Sophia Marshall, the story she paints is supported by a wonderful, darkly humorous cartoon video. An animated cadaver hilariously acts out her notions of positive living.
Other tracks also destined for a single release include: ‘Loving You’. It’s a song written around love lost. A bouncing house composition lays the foundations for Sophia Marshall's beautiful vocal that narrates the many facets to be found in loving another person. ‘Better’ again echoes jazz-inspired drums behind Sophia's vocals, drawing attention to how so many people are lost on their devices, missing out on the awesome world around them. A catchy chorus chants the notion behind this song, i.e., that you ‘could be better!’ This single is also supported by another fantastic video featuring the same comical, deceased character introduced through the ‘Good Morning Sunshine’ video.

Guests are Jessica Higgins and Matthew Walkerdine of Glasgow, UK, both formerly of the bands Vital Idles and Mordwaffe. They have been closely tied with DIY music, art and publishing for over a decade. Using (amateur) electronics, singing, speaking and field recording they make songs which blend the rhythms of popular music and contemporary approaches to collage, sampling, improvisation and repetition. As inspired by film and art as they are the legacies of twee underground and avant garde experimentalism, their loose, domestically twinged compositions explore feelings, atmospheres and moments which are hard to articulate and the quite literal notion of being a “guest”.

“I wish I was special” is their debut record, and with it a chance taken to explore terrain not previously covered by their other groups. The ideology of DIY practice appears integral to these eleven compositions, side-stepping virtuosity in favour of instinct and impression, unafraid to press unknown buttons and walk head first into mistake, finding inspiration where convention might not otherwise allow one to tread. The results are confoundingly fresh, sharp-of-mind, and unusually intimate. There’s an obvious intelligence at play here, and no little humour of course, but crucially there’s also a sense of the personal, a first-thought/best-thought (auto)didacticism that celebrates shared understanding and implicit trust. What, ultimately, we might view as the fearlessness in radically being yourself around another. It’s an approach that draws some comparison with the private musings of Flaming Tunes, Idea Fire Company’s domestic electronics, or perhaps even Annea Lockwood’s framing of emotional connection within avant garde structures. More so, Guests represent a compelling continuation of DIY post-punk experimentation that values intuition over prowess, and with it guides the listener into unexpected spaces that somehow comfort as much as they challenge.




d Arrangements, as in Making Them [VIDEO]

First vinyl issue for this 2023 release with bonus track not available on CD.
Nine majestic electro-acoustic threshold devotionals.
**ELECTRONIC SOUND - review (issue 98) “While there are shades and texture in the journey from glowing opener “Cyan” to the glowering conclusion of “Magenta”, they’re so subtle that they make ‘Colours of Air’ the musical equivalent of Rothko’s paintings - monotone at first glance, but with intriguing depths if you’re prepared to search for them.”

MOJO - ★★★★ review in the Underground column (March issue) “Loscil and English’s manipulations drift closer to the ambient techno of Gas.”

UNCUT - 8/10 review (March issue) “Subtle complex, and not always pacifying…’Magenta’s extraplanetary grace is tempered by unresolved tension for distinctly uneasy listening.”
The union of composers Lawrence English and loscil aka Scott Morgan is seamless, sublime, and long overdue.
Born of a conversation centered on the notion of “rich sources” as a forge for electronic music, Colours Of Air is a collection of recordings of a century old pipe organ housed at the historic Old Museum in Brisbane, Australia, which were then processed, transformed, and elevated into eight majestic electro-acoustic threshold devotionals. The timbre of the instrument and spatial fluctuations of room tone infuse the music with a subdued, sacred feel, like vaulted light in a nave of stained glass. They describe the album as “an iterative project, a reduction and eventual expansion,” sifting the swells and drones of the organ for every shivering shade of radiance.
The tracks are named for the hue each piece suggests – from the gauzy levitational miasma of “Yellow” to the pulsing melancholic mirage of “Violet” to the seething twilit sandstorm of “Magenta.” Morgan and English are both adept at conjuring moods of muted grandeur, like landscapes veiled in dusk, still looming and luminous.

The 8-member strong brass band from the windy streets of Amsterdam are back with their fifth studio effort reflecting on their over a decade-long career of bringing the best that instrumental brass music has to offer. With their newest album, they claim their righteous throne as stalwarts of the new European wave of brass bands making waves on the continent.

Containing 9 tracks of top-notch quality brass music from a collective of musicians, friends, and renegades that pursue a quest of innovating of what we know instrumental brass music to be. Gallowstreet is considered a reference point for the (future) sound of European brass bands that mix a multitude of styles into a new sound, whilst simultaneously (re)anchoring the notion of brass bands in its counter-cultural and communal roots. Distinct from its American counterpart, whilst paying homage to the legacy

Northwest & Nebulous is Liverpool-based musician Luce Mawdsley’s sixth studio release, a lush and accomplished instrumental album suffused with radiant and fluid possibilities, where expansively cinematic instrumentals conjure queer cowboy landscapes via the Northern English coastline. The album is a world-building piece of work, pulling from folk, Americana and soundtrack influences, fusing their romantic and exploratory energies to signal the beginning of a new journey for composer, with an open invitation for listeners to come along for the ride. The album was recorded and mixed by Luce Mawdsley in the Grade II listed Scandinavian Church in Liverpool, with a core chamber trio of Luce on guitar, organ and percussion, Nicholas Branton on clarinets, and Rachel Nicholas on viola. A self-taught musician, Mawdsley has released a host of both solo and collaborative albums (Mésange, Cavalier Song), and in 2023 started Pure O records, an independent record label dedicated to the nurture of queer and curious music based in the Northwest of England. “Wordlessly fashions heady, droney atmospheres that could soundtrack a film where a man walks through a monochrome desert” - The Quietus “The spindly guitars and knotty progressions of ‘Insect Fire Dance’ and ‘Heathen’ explore an unprissy English prog with soil under its fingernails” - 8/10 UNCUT "A triumph of imagination – a wide-eyed stare at the skies, in love with sound and possibility." - **** The Skinny “It’s not a stretch to suggest that no one is making music like Mawdsley. While the Liverpool visionary’s 2020 release, Vulgar Displays of Affection (Maple Death Records), was something likened to splintered bones passing through a meat grinder, Mawdsley’s Luke Two is far removed, solidifying the notions of an artist leaping from one sound world” - Sun 13 “Hallucinatory echoes of Alejandro Jodorowsky’s dream-realism symbolic El Topo share room with otherworldly portals and the all-too real depressive, bleak traps of a run-down, unloved English seaside town.” Monolith Cocktail

Halle Weissensee (or Weißensee if you wish) starts where Sascha Funke’s last Ep for Running Back stopped. Mesmerizing house and techno music that interweaves classic forms with modern means and looks through the lenses of nostalgia with an open mind.
The Halle was a former engine plant in Berlin that got converted into a rave areal for the now legendary Mayday raves and one of the birthplaces and leading spots of the nineties. Coincidentally and unknowingly, 1993’s winter edition was attended by Funke and Gerd Janson and a conversation about it spawned this record. Don’t be mislead: this is not a retro rave fest, but an ode to the esprit of the times, the possibilities if an envisioned future and maybe most of all an afterglow. While Reality (sounding like a Relief record if the label would have been a topic at Bauhaus university) and the warped bleepiness of Halle Weissensee itself come closest to the actual sound aesthetic of that very night, Fantasy invokes the language of contemplative deep house from vintage New York, while Puzzle evokes a notion of what the same thing could be with the prefix progressive instead. Reality often falls short behind fantasy, but once in a while both complement each other very well.