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140g Black vinyl LP – Printed inner sleeve – Sealed plastic sleeve

In Trux We Pux is an editorial project organized by the Porto based label and collective Favela Discos. Focusing on the city’s thriving experimental and improvised music scene, it sets out to portrait in a series of four volumes some of the characteristic sounds and collaborative practices that have been in development in Porto during the last few years.

In Trux We Pux 02 contains the first of Favela Discos’ collective pieces to be published, and it was chosen to represent a long series of site-specic pieces developed by the collective since its formation. Most of the time these pieces remain lost in time or in the label’s archives.

Desilusão Óptica is an audiovisual piece developed for the festival Serralves em Festa 2017 and was recorded between the concert and rehearsals. The piece is influenced by the book Musicophilia by Oliver Sacks, and tries to explore the notion of auditory hallucination, in this case based on the idea of a phantom sound unconnected to its object.

Starting quietly with a single flute note, Desilusão Óptica slowly grows fuller but more uncomfortable as the pitch rises gradually in a hypnotic effect. The sound we hear is a mix of the sound produced live, its manipulation and repetition, thus the piece exists between the time when it happens, its immediate repetition and ghosts of past sounds.

The flute, delayed and sampled, embodies both the sounds it produces and memories of past sounds, creating a confusion between objecto and sound. The sound is produced by an object but is at the same time separated from it, like in Mulholland Drive when we watch a singer emotionally dedicated to a performance and whose voice keeps on singing even when her body collapses.

Like in Dub Music, the musicians are divided into two groups: those who play, in this case divided by winds, percussion and electric guitars, and the dub master / sound manipulators who launch samples of previous recordings and manipulate the sound that is produced live, through loopers and delay pedals.

Unrestrained by notions of style or genre, there is a distinct air of freedom that permeates Picture Music, the new project from André Bratten. On what is his fifth album, the electronic visionary didn't enter the studio with the notion of making a particular type of record. Conversely, it was viewed as an opportunity to simply create - to let the music take over and guide the journey. Bringing together sparse strings, meditative synths, lingering piano chords and fleeting field recordings, the result is a collection of captivating sonic vignettes - deftly assembled into something profound and endearing. Eschewing the darker, more abrasive elements of most recent LP Silvester, Picture Music features some of Bratten's most accessible and melodic music to date - a shift in outlook no doubt expedited by the isolation of multiple Covid-19 lockdowns. These minimalist compositions ruminate on how the past two years have forced people to reconsider the concept of "normal life", as well as the birth of Bratten's second child - an experience he describes as "like death in reverse". The album title is taken from a compilation on the legendary Sky Records, a label that has been an enduring source of inspiration for Bratten along with that of Klaus Schultze's Innovative Communication. But rather than mimicking the work of these electronic luminaries,Picture Music sees him forge his own path: one that uncovers beauty in the simplicities of everyday life. Norwegian electronic artist André Bratten released his debut album Be A Man You Ant on Prins Thomas' Full Pupp label in 2013. He has since released three albums on Smalltown Supersound, and more recently produced Cracks, the acclaimed project from avant-garde saxophonist Benedik Giske. On June 10th Bratten returns with fifth studio album Picture Music.

24 Songs. A new project from The Wedding Present. A new 7” single every month throughout 2022. 24 Songs sees David Gedge writing with legendary Sleeper guitarist Jon Stewart for the first time, and a more perfect union could not have been predicted. The notion of a monthly 7” single is not new to The Wedding Present, but 24 Songs shows us that even classic concepts can be reinvented. The series also continues the band’s association with photographer Jessica McMillan, who has created stunning images and films as a visual accompaniment to the recordings. Explaining 24 Songs, David Gedge said: “In 1991, The Wedding Present were rehearsing in a studio in Yorkshire when we hit upon an idea that immediately thrilled us all. Our bass player Keith Gregory had been a member of the ‘Sub Pop Singles Club’ - a service that allowed subscribers to receive 7”s released by that Seattle label on a monthly basis. Keith wondered if we, as a band, could attempt a similar thing. In that instant, The Wedding Present’s Hit Parade series was born and, during 1992, we managed to release a brand new 7” single each and every month. “The Hit Parade went on to become something of a significant milestone in the history of the band and it’s a project about which I’m often asked. As its thirtieth anniversary approached, I began to wonder if we should celebrate it in some way. A ‘Hit Parade Part 2’ didn’t feel quite right, though. Then, someone said to me: “Other bands have released music in similar ways but there has been nothing like the Hit Parade.” And they were right! A 7” single a month seems, somehow, very ‘Wedding Present’. So, inspired by that little idea from three decades ago, we’ve embarked on this new project, 24 Songs. “Even though The Wedding Present have never been known for taking the easy route, the idea of recording 24 tracks and releasing them in this way could seem daunting to any band. However, I’ve been inspired by the music that has been written since Jon and Melanie joined the group. The thought of celebrating this exciting new line-up with an exciting new series has motivated us all… and I suppose we also didn’t want any of these songs to be hidden away in the middle of an album!”

Having initially met more than a decade ago at a local community radio station, sometimes doing guest slots on each other’s live, improvised noise shows, Cormac Culkeen and Dave Grenon knew they had a mutual interest in working with sonic textures. They listened to each other’s bands for a handful of years, and in 2017, “made good on a threat” that they’d been making for quite a long time: to start a band. At Cormac’s gentle but clear urging—declaring that they’d gone ahead and booked a space in which to record a video—the two wrote their first song, “Sebaldus,” an ambitious 12-minute trip, which also serves as the fireworks finale to their self-titled debut album. With surges of pathos that smooth out into something more soothing in turn, Cormac goes: “The hunter, you’ve seen him / The archer, his arrows are strong / And hunger, you’ve known her / I know the winter is long.” The track is as much about enduring a Canadian winter as it is about the eponymous 8th century hermit, shot through with sublimated desire. As Cormac put it, Joyful Joyful’s songs are “a little bit outside of time.” But while the lyrics beg close, oblique reading unto themselves, there’s also a distinct sense that they’re only one of many more ways that the duo shapes sound. Cormac, whose voice is like a sea with irregular tides, lights up about an idea in traditional sean-nós Irish music that songs already exist and are out there; it’s up to the singer to become the conduit. This belief in music as something to be channelled, and something more than sound, resonates with the singer’s fundamentalist religious past. To paraphrase: lots of group singing, harmonies, no instrumentation, totally unmediated, no priest, congregational—not choral, not a performance, not about talent, the spirit moves through people. “Of course that informs how I think about singing,” Cormac says. So, when they were exiled from the church because of their queerness, they took the music with them, dislocating it from its dogmatic bounds but not from its transcendent potential. This record might be thought of, then, as a kind of queering of sacred, devotional traditions—or at the very least, a space where all of these things can be held at once. Perhaps perceivable by some as contradictions, these intersecting influences create the conditions for an incredibly singular sound. Dave is steady and exploratory in his handling of this multiplicity, arranging sounds as they’re revealed, corralling them, coaxing them into form. “Because Dave is there,” Cormac says, “I get to sing three times higher, and three times lower, and faster, and backwards, and all of these sounds! That are there. They’re all there.” When asked about early musical memories, Cormac recalled an immediate fascination with harmony: from demanding that the first person they ever heard singing it explain what they were doing, to always (still, to this day) singing in harmony with their twin sister around the house, to being part of a children’s choir that sang soprano in Handel’s Messiah—not realizing until they entered the room with all the other ranges that their learned melody was but one part of the whole. Just as tellingly, Dave reflects on his early attraction to “abstraction and becoming abstract,” describing childhood afternoons messing with microphone and speaker feedback loops, producing long, enduring sounds with almost undetectable variations. In a way unique to the coalescing of these two listeners, notions of harmony are central to their output. Dave samples field recordings, old keyboards and synths, and vocal drones, running the live singing through four or five parallel effects chains, sampling and treating everything again in the moment. “Another way to put it is that Cormac’s voice comes into the board and then comes back out shifted, delayed, and shattered; Cormac and I hear it, live with it, and respond,” Dave says. This work is contingent not only on a deep intuition (neither of them read sheet music) of polyphony and due proportion (something St Thomas Aquinas famously listed as an attribute of beauty) but also on their connection to each other and ability to read subtle cues. Dave says they’d hold each other’s hands while performing if it was more convenient to do so, riffing on something else Cormac mentioned about traditional Irish singing: that someone would always hold the singer’s hand, for fear that without a tether to the ground they might find themselves utterly lost, unsure how to return. Joyful Joyful doesn’t shy away from offering such experiences of departure; they’re willing to unsettle their audiences because they themselves are unsettled. Their shared penchant for spooky, heavy music, and self-described “omnivorous” listening practices equip them with an array of sonic concepts that support this effort; Diamanda Galás, The Rankin Family, Pan Sonic, Pauline Oliveros, Keith Fullerton Whitman, Yma Sumac, and Catholic hymnody were just a few that came up. Observing their audience gives them insight about the effect of each song—something they considered while arranging the album. Its arc is marked by soft, sometimes sudden oscillations between cacophony and euphony, day and night (listen for insects), and from sexual, visceral entanglements to more ephemeral, celestial ones. Front to back, it arouses expansion, unraveling. Of lightning, Vicki Kirby writes: “quite curious initiation rites precede these electrical encounters. An intriguing communication, a sort of stuttering chatter between the ground and the sky, appears to anticipate the actual stroke.” By all accounts, something similar seems to happen at Joyful Joyful shows, between those on the stage and those off it, between what’s earthly and what’s beyond. “A lightning bolt is not a straightforward resolution of the buildup of a charge difference between the earth and a cloud … there is, as it were, some kind of nonlocal communication effected between the two,” writes Karen Barad, extrapolating on Kirby’s thought. Cormac acknowledges that while they and Dave play a role in this mysterious charge that comes about, they’re not solely responsible. However ineffable it may be, it’s undoubtedly a form of communion—and a sensuously shocking one at that

Pokey LaFarge's 7th studio solo album, In the Blossom of Their Shade,
showcases the positivity of coming out of the darkness and into the light
When the 2020 global pandemic hit, LaFarge's rigorous work ethic powered him
through the potentially challenging creative period. As days became a couple
months, songs blossomed from embryonic ideas into full- formed ones and he
was ready to move on, which typified his mindset as a working artist. With this
record LaFarge captures the thematic notion of being the perfect summer
afternoon soundtrack...the type of music you want to listen to while having a
cocktail with your significant other. It makes sense musically as well - LaFarge
intentionally crafted songs that created space and have melodies that can glide
throughout a composition that's a far cry from the swing and blues-infused songs
of his earlier work. LaFarge is an artist who refuses to rest on his laurels and
compromise. He's always motivated and ready to create. With In the Blossom of
Their Shade the album is one of LaFarge's strongest and most mature efforts to
date.

The glacial distillation of Pan•American aka Mark Nelson’s “romantic minimalism” achieves unique fruition on his latest Kranky collection, The Patience Fader.

A suite of solo guitar instrumentals accented with lap steel, harmonica, and twilit atmospherics, the strings smear and sparkle in elegant, windswept swells, a guitar mode once described by Brian Eno as “Duane Eddy playing Erik Satie.” These are elegies as much as songs, lulling and lilting in private currents of beauty and bereavement. Nelson speaks of the notion of “lighthouse music,” radiance cast from a stable vantage point, sending “a signal to help others through rocks and dangerous currents.”
Composed during the highly isolated summer of 2020, the pieces took shape as meditations on “roots and mourning, trying to connect with those deep hidden rivers that lead to a greater communality.” There’s something ageless, scarred, and American about this music, both displaced and devotional, the ghost of rust belts and dust bowls looming in a horizon of deepening dusk.

But the continuous stream wouldn't provide sufficient answers for long. Observing rudimentary structures sewer sender became tantalized with a vision of reverbation fromlower vaults of confinement. Waves reminiscent of solid concrete yet deeply seated below the ocean surface form and merges with the narrow surroundings.
Manitou takes the first step by setting a clear form for something deep seated. Proceedingextends the notion of martinous inaugural appointment Procedure' with a take on industrial
drums reverbing from the depths. Never (Anthem) takes the first part of the EP to fruition with stripped anthemic stabs and alarms to a strict and cleanly distorted beat. Jargonsolidifies concrete solid with enigmatic percussions over jaunty kick patterns. I have lost again focuson a dramatic narrative with hypnotic vocal stabs rolling over an intense kickand climatic builds. Needlessness frames the entire release combining both the concrete solid and the deep sea seated with again a take on martinous inaugural release Needless, leaving the frail thematic stab subdued by syncopated kicklike percussion and soaring
hihats to create a toollike appearance.

Kicks & Hugs, a multi-disciplinary platform established in 2017 to hold space for like-minded creators, now launches its own label showcasing emerging sonic spheres that reach beyond momentary hype and trends alike. Based in Berlin, the foundation of Kicks & Hugs lies at intersectional crossroads of music and art, with their first record establishing a definite attitude towards contemporary artistry. Kicks & Hugs celebrates an immersive spectrum of talent across different mediums and promotes ideas composed of color to challenge a steady current of long exhausted black & white patterns within the realm of electronic music. The debut EP available on black & limited edition colored marble vinyl assorts a kinetic flow of ideas produced by a seemingly divergent roster. Completely ecstatic & exhilarating maze of rhythm by The Lone Flanger, additionally reworked with Varg2TM versus contrasting yet innovative dancefloor mechanics by Bertrand., ending with a hypnotic mix by Dasha Rush, the record is an absorbing material of dynamics that subtly surprise and leave nothing but an ambitious statement for what’s yet to come. KH01 is dedicated to a musical shape-shifter, a paramount figure, ephemeral talent & a dear friend – Andrew Smith. To end in his own words, Keep It Fungki. The Lone Flanger was an audio-visual project from the artist Jasen Loveland also known as Andrew Smith (1980-2021). Dedicated to exploring the intersection of music and visual arts in the expanded dimension, the work of TLF picked up where Loveland’s eponymous acid-based project left off, aspiring for a kind of transcendence that takes the listener beyond the previously known concepts to experiments with the possibility of creating a resonant bridge between frequencies, worlds and dimensions. The work of TLF questions, obfuscates and complexifies notions of rhythm, melody and musical genre… even our ability to rely on our senses for accurate information about the work in question Varg2TM also known as Jonas Rönnberg casts a cryptic shadow from the North over contemporary aesthetics, continuing to create in his largely collaborative and always thrilling approach. Tempering a caustic rhythmic sensibility with a pneumatic palette for high definition synthesis, his unique embrace of risk tests the reliability of the forms he works in as well as the genre borders he surveys. Bertrand.’s work as a producer incorporates a wide spectrum of influences and aims to create beyond the common means of electronic dance music. Bertrand.’s restless nature and desire for technical perfection bleed into his productions of bass-heavy futuristic soundscapes often juxtaposed with playfully intense dancefloor fundamentals. Dasha Rush constructs a rather wide assortment of electronic music and arts projects. She sees the genre as a starting place, not a destination. Rush brings up a mixture of rather rare electronic experimentation more akin to the brief movement of underground music. Credits: Mastering and mastercut by Andreas LUPO Lubich at Loop-O Cover artwork by Fredrik Altinell Graphic Design by Marta Braga Inner label artwork by Tommy Dwane Vocals by Kawala Bravo

The second LP by California rock n roll unit SPICE expands their palette of damaged anthems and addiction poetics with a more bristling, visceral sound, distilled from years in the trenches of bands, break-ups, and breakdowns. Singer Ross Farrar explains their chemistry succinctly: "We all got in a room and this is what came out." Viv is named for a precursor project of bassist Cody Sullivan and violinist Victoria Skudlarek, but also alludes to broader notions of vividness, sonic, visual, and otherwise. Engineered by Jack Shirley and mixed/mastered by Sam Pura in Oakland, the mix achieves that rare balance of every element being elevated but distinct, with voices, strings, and drums each given space to blaze parallel paths. Opener "Recovery" captures SPICE at their stormy, weathered best, booming drums and East Bay riffs skidding out in a rockslide of rapture, regret, and bruised melody ("You sacrifice perfect days to laugh through the night / you have to get out of bed / and it's hard / and it's hard / it's so hard to admit"), peaking in Ian Simpson's poignant single-note vibrato guitar solo; Farrar agrees: "The guitar says what we cannot." Other tracks embrace the group's shredded pop potential ("Any Day Now," "Dining Out," "Live Scene") and their speedway ripper mode ("Threnody"), with detours into oblique instrumentals ("Melody Drive") and orchestral balladeering ("Ashes In The Birdbath"). But what unites and ignites these songs across different energies and arrangements is their specific sense of emotion. Rawness refined into reckonings, approaching truth, born of cold mornings, bad luck, and too many wrong turns. Waking up where you're not supposed to be, living a life you don't recognize. The album ends with no end to its narrative, still fighting, still slipping. Farrar calls "Climbing Down The Ladder" a "relapse song - telling people you're okay but you're still fucking up." Heartbeat drums march under heartbroken guitars in an elegant downward spiral of defeat, delusion, and desperate hope, dreamed more than believed: "I said it was the last time / but I was up so high / 100 miles / 1000 miles / no me in sight / I saw into the next life / I wasn't dead / I felt so vivid in the next life."

The second LP by California rock n roll unit SPICE expands their palette of damaged anthems and addiction poetics with a more bristling, visceral sound, distilled from years in the trenches of bands, break-ups, and breakdowns. Singer Ross Farrar explains their chemistry succinctly: "We all got in a room and this is what came out." Viv is named for a precursor project of bassist Cody Sullivan and violinist Victoria Skudlarek, but also alludes to broader notions of vividness, sonic, visual, and otherwise. Engineered by Jack Shirley and mixed/mastered by Sam Pura in Oakland, the mix achieves that rare balance of every element being elevated but distinct, with voices, strings, and drums each given space to blaze parallel paths. Opener "Recovery" captures SPICE at their stormy, weathered best, booming drums and East Bay riffs skidding out in a rockslide of rapture, regret, and bruised melody ("You sacrifice perfect days to laugh through the night / you have to get out of bed / and it's hard / and it's hard / it's so hard to admit"), peaking in Ian Simpson's poignant single-note vibrato guitar solo; Farrar agrees: "The guitar says what we cannot." Other tracks embrace the group's shredded pop potential ("Any Day Now," "Dining Out," "Live Scene") and their speedway ripper mode ("Threnody"), with detours into oblique instrumentals ("Melody Drive") and orchestral balladeering ("Ashes In The Birdbath"). But what unites and ignites these songs across different energies and arrangements is their specific sense of emotion. Rawness refined into reckonings, approaching truth, born of cold mornings, bad luck, and too many wrong turns. Waking up where you're not supposed to be, living a life you don't recognize. The album ends with no end to its narrative, still fighting, still slipping. Farrar calls "Climbing Down The Ladder" a "relapse song - telling people you're okay but you're still fucking up." Heartbeat drums march under heartbroken guitars in an elegant downward spiral of defeat, delusion, and desperate hope, dreamed more than believed: "I said it was the last time / but I was up so high / 100 miles / 1000 miles / no me in sight / I saw into the next life / I wasn't dead / I felt so vivid in the next life."

24 Songs. A new project from The Wedding Present. A new 7” single every month throughout 2022. 24 Songs sees David Gedge writing with legendary Sleeper guitarist Jon Stewart for the first time, and a more perfect union could not have been predicted. The notion of a monthly 7” single is not new to The Wedding Present, but 24 Songs shows us that even classic concepts can be reinvented. The series also continues the band’s association with photographer Jessica McMillan, who has created stunning images and films as a visual accompaniment to the recordings. Explaining 24 Songs, David Gedge said: “In 1991, The Wedding Present were rehearsing in a studio in Yorkshire when we hit upon an idea that immediately thrilled us all. Our bass player Keith Gregory had been a member of the ‘Sub Pop Singles Club’ - a service that allowed subscribers to receive 7”s released by that Seattle label on a monthly basis. Keith wondered if we, as a band, could attempt a similar thing. In that instant, The Wedding Present’s Hit Parade series was born and, during 1992, we managed to release a brand new 7” single each and every month. “The Hit Parade went on to become something of a significant milestone in the history of the band and it’s a project about which I’m often asked. As its thirtieth anniversary approached, I began to wonder if we should celebrate it in some way. A ‘Hit Parade Part 2’ didn’t feel quite right, though. Then, someone said to me: “Other bands have released music in similar ways but there has been nothing like the Hit Parade.” And they were right! A 7” single a month seems, somehow, very ‘Wedding Present’. So, inspired by that little idea from three decades ago, we’ve embarked on this new project, 24 Songs. “Even though The Wedding Present have never been known for taking the easy route, the idea of recording 24 tracks and releasing them in this way could seem daunting to any band. However, I’ve been inspired by the music that has been written since Jon and Melanie joined the group. The thought of celebrating this exciting new line-up with an exciting new series has motivated us all… and I suppose we also didn’t want any of these songs to be hidden away in the middle of an album!”

Like a book club - only with albums.A simple, but beautiful concept

MJ McArthy (Zoey Van Goey) asked a small group of his pals to gather at The Laurieston – that mystical voodoo Glasgow boozer…that adored bar that defies all reason and logic – and they would talk about a record, track by track, and see what happens.They didn't know each other. There were theatre people:, Playwrite Douglas Maxwell, Isobel McArthur (actress and writer, the genius behind smash hit Pride and Prejudice Sort Of) and Cathy Forde (acclaimed YA novelist and playwright) and Rhona NicDhughaill who works for Gaelic arts company Theatre Gu Leor, as well as being an old band buddy of MJ's from their student days. Peter Geoghegan, award- winning firebrand political journalist and writer of the wonderful Democracy For Sale was there. And lastly - and slightly freaking them out on that very first night - were two actual Delgados: Emma Pollock and Paul
Savage.

And then…MJ had songs. MJ always has songs. And he started to wonder if this particular group of humans could, as well as talk about an album, make an album? For the musicians I don't suppose that was a particularly weird notion, but for the rest of the band it was quite a leap. However, MJ was adamant…let Album



Club become ALBUM CLUB. The Band!

Toro y Moi’s seventh studio album, ‘MAHAL’, is the boldest and most fascinating journey yet
from musical mastermind Chaz Bear. The record spans genre and sound - encompassing the
shaggy psychedelic rock of the 1960s and ‘70s, and the airy sounds of 1990s mod-post-rock -
taking listeners on an auditory expedition, as if they’re riding in the back of Bear’s Filipino
jeepney that adorns the album’s cover. But ‘MAHAL’ is also an unmistakably Toro y Moi
experience, calling back to previous works while charting a new path forward in a way that only
Bear can do.
 ‘MAHAL’ is the latest in an accomplished career for Bear, who’s undoubtedly one of the
decade’s most influential musicians. Since the release of the electronic pop landmark ‘Causers
of This’ in 2009, subsequent records as Toro y Moi have repeatedly shifted the idea of what his
sound can be. But there’s little in Bear’s catalogue that will prepare you for the deep-groove
excursions on ‘MAHAL’, his most eclectic record to date.
 The second the album begins we’re immediately transported into the passenger seat, jeep
sounds and all, ready for the ride Chaz and company have concocted for us. Seeds of some of
‘MAHAL’s 13 songs date back to the more explicitly rock-oriented ‘What For?’ from 2015.
 ‘MAHAL’ was mostly completed last year in Bear’s Oakland studio with the involvement of a
host of collaborators, Sofie Royer and Unknown Mortal Orchestra’s Ruban Neilson to Neon
Indian’s Alan Palomo and the Mattson 2.
 “I wanted to make a record that featured more musicians on it than any other record of mine,”
he explains. “To have them live on that record feels grounded, bringing a communal
perspective to the table.” As a result, ‘MAHAL’ is lush and surprising at every turn, from the
cool-handed ‘The Loop’, which recalls Sly and the Family Stone, to the elastic psych rock of
‘Foreplay’ and the dizzying Mulatu Astatke-recalling of ‘Last Year’.
 Lyrically, the album zooms in on generational concerns, picking up where the ‘Outer Peace’
standout ‘Freelance’ effectively left off. Bear seems to be surveying the ways in which we
connect with technology, media, each other, and what disappears as a result. Cuts like the
squishy ‘Postman’ and ‘Magazine’ take a deep dive into our relationship with media in a
changing digital world. “It’s interesting to see how we adapt to this new age. We’re so
connected, but we’re still missing out on things,” Bear ruminates while discussing the album’s
themes.
 It’s not all introspection. Bear cools things down near the album’s end with the Mattson 2-
featuring ‘Millennium’, a laid-back jam with tricky guitar licks about ringing in new times even
when everything else seems upside down. “It’s about enjoying the new year, even when it’s
been shitty,” Bear explains. “There’s nothing else to do.”
 Finding a sense of joy in the face of adversity is embedded in ‘MAHAL’s DNA, right down to the
jeepney that literally and figuratively brings the music out into the community. “We know that
touring is messed up for now, and large gatherings are a fluke,” he explains. “It’s about the
notion of us going out to the people and bringing the record to them.” And with the wide-open
atmosphere of ‘MAHAL’, Toro y Moi stands to connect with more listeners than ever before.

While most ensembles are driven by personalities, the Necks are powered by an idea. A very large and simple idea - which now seems completely obvious…. but only because the Necks thought of it and made it work. Now their pleasure (and ours) is sequentially to re-imagine and explore that idea – the prime directive of which seems to be to be that each unfolding step and every passing detail of any performance be allowed to evolve organically out of the musical conditions established at its moment of departure. In other words, we are in the territory of chaos and catastrophe theory; of hurricanes and butterfly wings… And, since one can never step twice into the same river, each beginning has led to wildly unpredictable and variant outcomes; and imperceptibly: you never hear the changes until somehow they have already happened. “We end up, Lloyd Swanton writes, ‘in a very different place from whatever our initial notion … had been.” In the case of Vertigo, we are dropped straight into an almost Feldmanesque musical universe, in which sounds - seemingly disconnected - are already there; creating space rather than inhabiting it. Then, without trying, they mutate. Not mechanically and not according to any pre-determined process - because it’s always clear that what we hear is being played by human beings; that it’s music. A special kind of music that is not pushy or demanding or demonstrative, but rather co-operative, spatial, ambiguous. A music that leaves room for its listeners.

Throughout his relatively short career to date, Groovence’s boss man Moonee (real name François Lefevre) has delivered some top shelves tracks in the passed years , appearances like his debut track on Groovence last year « Faith & Sorrow » and an official remix for Sweely’s banger « Gotta Keep On » in 2020. His music brilliantly blend contemporary house with dusty sampled house, the whole magnified by his MPC workflow and his own savory and taste on music sampling. « Wabi-sabi »is above all an aesthetic and spiritual concept that celebrates the imperfection of things. Focused on the notion of beauty and the passage of time, this first EP is dedicated to his love for mixed-up soul infused grooves and « out of the grid » beats & sounds.

This album doesn't blurt it out: There is no loud "Ta-Dah!", no exclamation mark. "The ghost that carried us away" flatters in a rather unobtrusive way. However, it has encircled you after the third song at the latest. Fragile hymns of nonchalant casualness, created by the 24-year-old Sindri Már Sigfússon. Guitars, piano, his almost bashful and yet so present voice. "Nature, mortality, love", these are the topics of his debut album. Even the one who listens only briefly, is able to make them out within the sounds. "Do you remember how the things look when you were young."

Reykjavik again. Iceland, the musical heartland. On top of that, there is a violinist with her voice in the clouds: Gudbjörg Hlin Gudmundsdóttir (violine, vocals, harmonica). There further are musicians Sindri shared his hometown and his passion: Orn (guitar, lapsteel) who forms together with Sindri and Gudbjörg the inner triangle of Seabear. Or Eiki, Orvar, Gudni and Dóri. One plays the flugelhorn, the slide-guitar or upright-bass. One belong to the live line-up of Sigur Rós (Eiki). Another is part of the sensational múm (Orvar). Some are stage members of Benni Hemm Hemm's Band - the other Icelandic artist on morr music. Sindri Már Sigfusson has invited them into his small studio, placed them in front of the only microphone, let them think about his musical thoughts. He likes the notion and the feeling of LoFi, Sindri says. Only for the recording of the drums three microphones were used. The result is reminiscent of the reduced stereo recordings of the 1960ies.

Libraries is the most direct promise that pop music is able to make. Tiny and gigantic, unobtrusive and exciting at the same time. A song like a blink into the most beautiful sunrise. A tumbling piano, swinging drums. Melodies, melancholy: "My little bird flew away from me". Or "hands remember", the singing being close to one's ear. "The voice of an old friend", a murmur, two violins. There is later "summer bird diamond", birds twitter to the accords of an old banjo, a glockenspiel. It is almost a radio play, chamber folk. And "seashell" at last, a pocket symphony, arranged around jumping drums. Sufjan Stevens would have done it in a very similar way.

Am 15. April erscheint der offizielle Soundtrack zur Doku ”The Velvet Underground: A Documentary Film
By Todd Haynes“ auf Vinyl.

White vinyl, gatefold cover, silver stamped, spotgloss-printed On Epiphanies, the first-ever "concept-compilation" to be released by Hallow Ground, artists such as Maria W Horn, FUJI||||||||||TA, Lawrence English, Siavash Amini and Norman Westberg, who all have previously released music on the Swiss label, were commissioned to pursue a non-rational creative process in approaching the phenomenon of epiphany through sound. In very different ways, all of the compositions on the compilation draw on the unique emotional powers of certain acoustic instruments, obfuscating the borders between physicality and abstraction. The results, whether long-form, short vignettes, profane and concrete sounds or spiritual and abstract pieces, perfectly encapsulate what Hallow Ground as a label has stood for since its inception in the year 2013: challenging not only conventional notions of what music is supposed to sound like but also the listeners' perception through the power of sound. On Epiphanies, Hallow Ground also welcomes artists including Magda Drozd, Akira Sileas and Valentina Magaletti to make their first ever contributions to the label. For those who greet this compilation with open ears and minds, these 81 minutes will deliver on its title.

Having been previously released digitally and on CD back in 2009. We decided RSD 2022 was a great opportunity to release this seminal album on Red Transparent vinyl for the first time.

‘Don’t You Remember The Future’ is the debut artist album from Jamie Jones, peering into the coming apocalypse with a body-shaking, teeth-grinding, tripped out fusion of sound on Crosstown Rebels.

There are some talents that remain inconspicuous and then there are some you can’t ignore. Jamie Jones is the latter, quickly rising to superstar status in underground dance circles over recent years. Releases on Crosstown Rebels Hot Creations, Defected, Cocoon, Get Physical and BPitch have catapulted him to become a cult figure and he is widely admired for his true originality. From his debut single ‘Amazon’, to his albums' anthem ‘Summertime’, his unique sound has won him worldwide audiences and this album has been widely anticipated as one to change the face of current house music.

With ‘Don’t You Remember The Future’ Jamie Jones delivers an album of “intergalactic techno house, where old school prince meets cybertron.” A seamlessly blended up-tempo mix filled with eerie and energetic moments. Featuring ten brand new tracks from Jamie Jones, alongside this years dance floor anthem ‘Summertime’ and the current ‘Galactic Space Bar’ - which features the vocals of Egyptian Lover - the album’s twelve tracks are stitched together in an entangled web of beats and bleeps, available digitally as separate edits.

Cosmic cuts such as ‘Mars’ and ‘Deep In The Ghetto’ create a new dimension through soaring synths and idiosyncratic samples while the sonic dance floor weapons ‘Half Human’ and ‘This Is How’ release the lethal disco master within Jamie Jones. The jacking, peak time moments of ‘Summertime’ and ‘Sand Dunes’ produce a current take on the early acid house sound and each step of this peculiar story solidifies the strange notion of being within an undiscovered time and place. ‘Don’t You Remember The Future’ features the guest vocals of a variety of musical souls, checking off some of Jones’ remote influences and revealing the greater versatility of this skillful artist. Norwegian oddball duo Ost & Kjex feature on the anthem, ‘Summertime’.

The seductively charged ‘Absolute Zero’ unmasks the talent of London based DJ, producer and vocalist Alison Mars (AKA Alison Marks), resulting in a beautifully epic and mysterious after hours track, and the toxic ‘Galactic Space Bar’ features live vocals from one of the creators of the electro scene, The Egyptian Lover, an old hero to Jamie Jones through early rap cuts like ‘Egypt, Egypt’ and ‘I Need a Freak .’ ‘Don’t You Remember The Future’ vinyl release is the album that brought the future into the present."

Limited to 100 copies!

For the second release on Subject To Restrictions Discs’ White Series, Los Pashminas from Fribourg deliver a four-track sound experience for dance floors.

The complexity of the human experience has led to many theories, which tried to explain the emotional activity of our everyday experiences. In the ’60s Paul MacLean formulated the ‘Triune Brain’ model. This theory proposes a very simplistic organisation of our brain, which would be too easy to accept since the very notion of ‘change’ is difficult to give credence to. The wiring between our primary and emotional behaviour is much more complex and subject to plasticity and transformations. What if the very essence of music could follow the same path? Maybe music could take conscience of its own environment and develop its own wave, independently from the human will.

This EP is an essay in which symbolic samples are organising themselves into the genesis of a new form of conscience, a result of a survival-mode experience that pushes the music itself to create its new form. This sound journey was created during the 2020 Pandemic.