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Rats on Rafts descend further into the brooding wasteland on their new album ‘Deep Below’, a darker, slower, eroded sound from the Rotterdam band. Highlighting different shades within the monochrome landscape compared to their previous, more colourful albums: they dive deeper into their psyche, questioning our relationships with nature, religion and each other. Echoes of The Cure, Cocteau Twins and Slowdive seem present yet so many different influences make up an album that only they could create. It sees Rats on Rafts coming of age whilst raising their heads from the underground. Forever drifting into new territory, ‘Deep Below’ is certainly their darkest and most cohesive work to date. True to their analogue recording process, the tape machines, reverbs, echoes and vital new ingredients: the Soundcraft 1s mixing desk (Used by Lee Perry) and the eerie sounding Eminent String Ensemble synth all amplify the authentic sounds of the 1980’s without sounding like a relic. ‘Japanese Medicine’ is a haunting minor chord piece driven by debris of icy chiming guitars, galloping drums and waves of lush synths. lyrically it gathers memories of teenage friendship, littered with cigarettes, life-changing records, punctuated with the dark thoughts and the demons they summon up. Though the band have kept the songs relatively slow-paced and sparse, deeper ruminations of mortality and alienation creep through the cracks. ‘Nature Breaks’, the most propulsive song on the record, thematically locks into this notion, as Fagan meditates on human impulse in the face of abject survival, and how those situations often unlock one's true self. You may conclude Rotterdam’s Rats on Rafts relationship with the past is complicated. ‘The Moon Is Big’ (2011) ‘Tape Hiss’ (2015) and ‘Excerpts From Chapter 3’ (2021) are truly gripping analog timestamps of a band refusing to give in to the supposed ‘progress of the world’ instead forging their own way each time. ‘Deep Below’ is Rats on Rafts’ most minimalist work since their 2011 debut. Where the latter album was fuelled by a brash bravado, these recordings meditate on sentiments of doubt, loss, and ageing. “One of the great contemporary European rock bands” Louder Than War

Theresa Stroetges returns to Karaoke Kalk with her second album for the Berlin-based label, her fifth solo full-length with her Golden Diskó Ship project in total. Having released records with the Indian-German band project Hotel Kali as well as Painting, a group dedicated to audio-visual concepts, »Oval Sun Patch« sees her embrace influences from club culture, advanced electronic music, and pop more firmly than ever before. Over the past 15 years, Golden Diskó Ship has served a vessel with which the Berlin-based multi-instrumentalist has traversed a variety of genres and circumnavigated all conventions in the process. With »Oval Sun Patch,« Stroetges again sets sail into unknown waters with what is perhaps her catchiest album so far—beat-driven, playful, atmospheric, and at times thoroughly anthemic. This is the sound of Golden Diskó Ship moving forward.

A life lived in transit, the vastness of bodies of water and the isolation of islands as well as more generally notions of processes and progress have been recurring motives throughout Stroetges’ previous records and also mark »Oval Sun Patch.« In fact, the foundation for the six pieces was laid when she was working abroad and at times close to the sea. The massive three-part album closer »Earth Before The Space Race« was conceived as a multi-channel audio-visual performance piece during a 2021 residency at Zaratan Arte Contemporânea in Lisbon. The others were written in the following year during two other residencies when Stroetges first spent time in Austria at the sound art festival Klangmanifeste in Lindabrunn and then visited Portugal once more for a stay at Goethe-Institut in Lisbon. With the help of Shelley Barradas, who lent her a guitar, and Julia Klein, who helped her setting up a temporary studio in the Goethe-Institut Portugal’s auditorium, she made the preliminary recordings of what would later become this album.

»Oval Sun Patch«, later refined in Berlin and mixed in close collaboration with London-based engineer Hannes Plattmeier, is a direct result of Stroetges having to work with what was available to her at the time of writing and recording. While her distinct guitar playing—evocative yet funky, complex but catchy—once more features heavily and she uses her voice in manifold ways to sometimes harmonise with herself or creating complex canons as counterpoints to her her own lead vocals, the electronic gear she worked with dominates the album both compositionally and sonically. Stroetges’ music has always displayed a passion for club culture and advanced electronic music, but on »Oval Sun Patch« she proves once and for all how well these influences can be integrated into her unconventional approach to songwriting.

However, the punchy beat and Moroder-like bassline that form the backbone of »Dolphins With Soft Helmets,« the throbbing house and techno grooves underneath »Ephemeral Carnivores« and »Well-Oiled Machine« as well as the jittery IDM rhythms of »Google Your New Name« and her nods to trip-hop with »Tiny Island« do not so much follow established formulas as they use them as a starting point for wild experimentation instead. Stroetges juxtaposes complex rhythms with interlocking melodies and rich harmonies in ways that continue to surprise throughout and still leave enough space for the occasional wistful guitar or vocal passage. Nowhere does this approach feel more epic than on the 12 ½ minutes long »Earth Before The Space Race,« which takes its time to unfold, changing its pace and mood throughout.

»Oval Sun Patch« is an album about change. The lyrics describe constant transformations of sceneries, relationships, physical and emotional states as well as the climate throughout its running time. Stroetges in the meanwhile leads the way as a singer, songwriter and producer who lets her music evolve constantly. This is sound, moving forward.

The Gentle Spring are a new group, formed by Michael Hiscock, Emilie Guillaumot and Jérémie Orsel. Michael has an illustrious pop history, having been a founder member of The Field Mice, possibly the most beloved band on Sarah Records in the 1990s. And with The Gentle Spring, it seems that history is repeating itself…

When Michael and his friend Bobby Wratten formed The Field Mice, the two of them very quickly created a set of songs whose emotional honesty, raw guitars and perfect pop melodies pierced the hearts of a generation of indiepop fans, kids who were unmoved by the posturing of mainstream indie, and who didn’t want to spend time in fields dancing at 24-hour raves. The Field Mice were the band who defined the meaning and the spirit of Sarah Records. Defiantly in love with pop, defiantly un-macho, defiantly…sensitive. And now, remarkably, Michael has done it again. With his new musical partner Emilie, The Gentle Spring have created a fresh new iteration of indiepop music. Once again, the songs are unafraid of raw emotions, brutally honest and is still in love with big pop melodies.

They are still….sensitive. But life is seen through a different lens now. There is wisdom, there is experience, and there is the ability to look back at the world with a mixture of regret and joy. These are very adult songs, and the arrangements reflect this. Rich acoustic guitars and Emilie’s haunting keyboard have replaced hectic drum machines and urgent distortion. And there is a third element to this music. Jérémie Orsel’s sophisticated guitar adds textures and melodies that give these songs a real depth, while maintaining an enigmatic distance, never quite overwhelming the vocal line. So things are clearer now.

But feelings are just as strong. The pain of unrequited love that made Field Mice songs so poignant hasn’t gone away. In some ways, the thought of roads not taken is more profound when experienced in retrospect. I Can’t Have You As A Friend entertains this notion, still moved by the allure of a different life, but shuddering with fear at what might have happened. Also still haunted by the past, The Girl Who Ran Away conjures up the ghost of a previous failed relationship, which threatens to undermine happiness in the present. In Severed Hearts, sung by Emilie, there is the stark recognition that some endings really are final: sometimes there can be no reconciliations. But the song cleverly moves on from this: it acknowledges that, even after the worst emotional loss, you have to pick yourself, you will move on. It’s sophisticated and it’s mature – but it will still break your heart. Sugartown is another song that plays this trick on you. It insists that there will always be lightness and shade. It warns you against complacency, but does it so kindly that you feel like you’ve been embraced. When Michael’s and Emilie’s vocals combine in the final chorus, telling us that we don’t live in Sugartown, you know they are right – and yet the sweetness of the singing makes you feel that – just for a moment – you do.the band perform as a trio and have already found a keen audience in France, where they are based. During a short tour of the UK in January, to coincide with this release, British audiences will get their first opportunities to see The Gentle Spring play these new songs live

On (ii), London & Vienna-based duo Bara & Isa present their singular version of devotional music. After meeting at an experimental choir in Café OTO, the duo started collaborating, mostly by exchanging files (initially during the pandemic and now between London and Vienna). (ii) is their debut album which follows a handful of self-released singles and an EP.

Described by the duo as a "sort of document of personal development, and also the struggles of everyday motions", this is music which embraces contradictions. Themes of reflection, acceptance and care sit side by side with notions of spiralling and falling, as Bara & Isa explore the nuances and complexities of quotidian life. Working with a rich sound palette of organ pipes, electric organ, voice notes, field recordings, vocals, harp, chimes, tuning forks, singing bowls, bells and flute, the duo slow-cooked and composed these beautiful songs between 2021 and 2024, mostly by exchanging files. And that's exactly what this music sounds like: a digital call with a loved one, glitching, slowed down, disembodied, yet heartwarming and comforting. Mesmerizing, inviting and bewildering all at once.

“Their music toys with proximity and intimacy, it carries a romanticism which feels forged from a struggle for connection in an isolating world. Tender, precarious folk ballads for a time which struggles to stay in sync.”
Daryl Worthington — The Quietus

“Late Junction 3 airplay”
Jennifer Lucy Allan — BBC Radio 3

“My introduction to “noise” came from a record shop in Lake Worth, Florida ran by a musician named Kenny 5. Kenny had left Detroit sometime in the mid nineties and had begun selling used records and CD’s from the downtown strip of this tiny southern Florida city in a humble shop sandwiched between a deli and a dog grooming business. Kenny previously was on labels like Amphetamine Reptile and timeSTEREO, and the records and videotapes that would be on repeat at his shop were a vast sonic expanse that spoke to the eclecticism of his experience as a touring musician participating and adjacent to American noise culture through the early to late 90’s. In 1998, I was eleven years old and I would order a pizza with him and watch VHS tapes of Japanese noise and deathmatch bootlegs, as well as any other sonic and subcultural rarities that far outstripped my age to comprehend (notably the RRR “Journey Into Pain” compilation and various Vanilla Tapes videos). This widecast net of information formed an introduction to a reality that did not fall deaf on me, but it took many years later for me to reorient the specific freedoms of what this dense and cathartic sound culture had imparted on my life and would continue onward to.

What does this have to do with this selection of choice recordings from the Secret Boyfriend catalog for the enmossed label? For the uninitiated, Secret Boyfriend is the long running moniker of Ryan Martin, North Carolina musician and label proprietor of the Hot Releases imprint. For over a decade from this writing I have watched Secret Boyfriend, and Hot Releases by extension as a curatorial and archival effort, embodying the multiplanal capacity that noise loosely functions from as an umbrella ideology and formalist avenue for sound creation. For anecdotal purposes, from (before) 2006 until roughly 2023 the East Coast of the United States showcased a vibrant network of eclectic regional festivals that saw wide swaths of artists addressing and negotiating the notion of what qualified “noise” from a conceptual and ideological perspective. Some festivals honed in on particularities in aesthetics and tropes, and others had a kind of “catch-all” implementation that allowed for a salvation of the sort of alienated and singular artistry that was amassing throughout these territories. While clear guidelines had been set from regional predecessors as to how noise with a capital “N” should maneuver, Secret Boyfriend is emblematic in the spirit of fluidity that was either implicitly coupled to the notion of the genre, or grew to evolve towards or devolve from.

Within Secret Boyfriend performances, I have seen and admired a mirroring from a ravenous appreciator of this culture at large back towards itself. Typical of a Secret Boyfriend set is an interchangeable narrative arc wherein blistering feedback laden scrap metal improvisations are forayed into naive ambient or “pop” songs, or skipping CDs, or mixer feedback play, or delayed Roland 707 drum workouts all at once and in a unique hegemony. Secret Boyfriend's stylistic mastery of each endeavor is at once an homage to a history of loving listening and enacting, while a brave step into the realm of actualizing the unique fluidity of his own practice. In performance and the action of network engagement, Secret Boyfriend operates a survey of that which he sought to hear and that which he cultivates around his work. His operations are mirrors, and the project (alongside his other peers) is a reflection on the ethos of his time.

Conversely his recording practice narrows in on these moments and allows for a different kind of intimacy or alienation for the non live listener. This record of selected “pop songs” (let's call them that) is particularly poignant at a time when the culture Martin mirrors is at a strange crossroads with itself. The aforementioned festival networks necessarily change and shift. The onlookers become the artists, the artists find new horizons, and the spaces for these cycles fade into locales of a distant memory. It seems, from my perspective, that audiences currently yearn for a more bottlenecked experience, searching for some ontologically vetted manifestation of an idea, of a sound and less for an experience that functions in opposition to our collective banalities. This makes sense in the face of general global catastrophism that plagues us. We need certainty of what something is somewhere, don’t we? Noise as an idea has expanded and contracted to so many iterations of itself it is hard to tell what it even is, and it is particularly difficult to identify in the absence of solid network activations a moment to reflect on its own complexities and nuances. In the face of so much change, I argue that the language of noise culture at large has on one hand become increasingly didactic and predictable, and laughably inclusive and non linear on the other. Probably has always been this way, but now we are in the midst of a moment of extreme access and indexicality, which somehow cauterizes expansion and naivety and chance.

This record highlights the Secret Boyfriend that obscures didacticism by highlighting output that opens up for more challenging catharsis and emotive signal processing. It provides an entry to the materialism of a cultural field full of ecstatic complexity and beautiful inconsistency. In these muted moments Secret Boyfriend has given us over his career we have an argument for evolving languages that further challenge our notions of what is supposed to happen and how it is supposed to be presented. In his more song oriented expansiveness, we can punctuate the ability to think in new modalities. Listening to these recordings reminds me of the polarity of sitting in the record store as a kid and understanding that His Name Is Alive is on 4AD and (gasp!) timeSTEREO. This trite early impression that nothing is really as different as our imaginations might want them to be, and that we can do whatever we want mostly within the creative realms we work through is an important filter to look through Secret Boyfriend as a project and a vessel. If we can achieve abandon and vulnerability through our artistic endeavors, then we have a sound model for, maybe, new potentialities. If that’s too much projection, or just complete liberal bullshit, I am fine with that. Secret Boyfriend's oeuvre at best offers us moments of reprieve to ponder these complexities, or at least a moment to zone out on a drive through North Carolina Highway 54.

You have one pocket of life that you must do whatever you want to inside of. Secret Boyfriend does it affectionately, in a variety of forms, and always with deep sentimentality. These recordings are a wonderful set of songs to begin further investigation from. Thank you Ryan for allowing as many avenues as possible to continue a broad cultural exchange and conversation that intersect and refract while being the kind of artist that is brave enough to not phone in the effort.”

- Nick Klein , May 2024

Jacob Long’s fourth full-length for Kranky began as a notion to reimagine Earthen Sea as a “piano trio,” inspired by a year-long immersion in the ECM label catalog, but the compositions soon grew more complex.

Elements were chopped and resampled, then layered with bass, drums, percussion, and additional keys. The result is a fusion of live band acoustics and downtempo loops, sculpted into nine smoke-and-mirror dubs of fractured jazz, soft-focus noir, and trip-hop dust: Recollection.

Like the title implies, Long’s playing and production share a mood of pensive movement, shuffling and rippling like uncertain memories at strange hours.

From looming fog (“Present Day,” “Neon Ruins”) and shadowy breaks (“Another Space,” “Cloudy Vagueness”) to rosy glows (“Clear Photograph”) and smeared reverie (“White Sky”), Recollection deftly wields its palette of gradient color and subdued states of beauty.

His is a music of reduction and reflection, kinetic but oblique, attuned to the silhouettes of sound.

Out of the murky, mystic world of Komodo Kolektif slides the Gamma Knife.

In the corner of a dank, dark mind, a nebulous notion condenses and solidifies, featureless and blind...and from that Komodo Klay a new kreature is hacked, molded and (mal)formed.

“The foundations of some of these pieces were laid almost a decade ago, others more recently. All of them came into being as sketches intended as Komodo Kolektif tracks to develop but for various reasons this didn't happen. The Seven Heavenly Elements was first presented to the group in 2019 but partly through personal differences in musical taste as well as COVID throwing a spanner in the works it was put aside and never worked on collectively. The two Disciple of the Drum 'dubs' are essentially rhythm tracks using the rhythm and percussion of Disciple Of The Drone, also from 2019, stripping away the drone, the gamelan melody and finally, even the bass line, which was initially intended to be the fundamental driving force of at least one of these dubs. In the end neither of these two tracks became anything like the idea that I had in mind, but that's how creativity works sometimes. The vocal parts in Cantation Dub were added most recently, just a few months ago. Fire Dub is just an exercise in me trying to rein in some insane delays and barely managing. The Ghost of Water is an anomaly because many of the fundamental parts are taken from the same jam session recorded in 2015 that led to Djakarta 3001 from the first EP. If you listen closely you'll hear Graeme Miller on guitar (back when guitar was still featured in our weekly jam sessions). I discovered this unedited hour-long jam session on an older hard drive in late 2023 and decided to fashion something from it until what became Ghost of Water materialised: the heavily delayed saron instruments, the jaw harp, the percussion and so on. What makes the track an anomaly is that it is in some ways both the oldest and newest piece of the five. The Seventh Element takes one of the seven elements of The Seven Heavenly Elements (in this case the Mopho synth tuned to the Indonesian pelog scale and ran through the Boss DE-200's depth modulator) to which I then added some gong parts and field recordings from Bali.

Once complete, I realised with an album's worth of material sitting there which was more “Komodo Kolektif” than anything I would normally produce solo, there came the problem of trying to work out what to do with this distinctly Komodo-esque, non-Komodo material. I came up with the idea of releasing it under the name Komodo Kuts...but a part of me felt I'd be cashing in on the Komodo name so ditched that part entirely...but the kuts remained, which seemed appropriate when used alongside my Gamma Knife moniker (which has a long story of its own...in a nutshell I had a benign brain tumour which only 1 in 10,000 people get and which is most frequently removed with a gamma knife (radiation). In medical parlance the device used in this treatment is often shortened to GK machine. I had been using the DJ name GK Machine, which came from my signature GK Mackinnon, since 1994, in other words long before this diagnosis. In the end I had brain surgery in Spain without use of gamma radiation...but the synchronicity of the name connection fascinated me nevertheless. Sometimes the world works in mysterious ways).

Lastly, now that I've sent these tracks out into the world, I feel somewhat liberated and can move on from this fairly niche and specific sound. The gamelan instruments have been returned to Gamelan Naga Mas, from who we'd borrowed them, and the masks hung up. This does not mean that Graeme Miller and I won't work together again in future...I'm sure we will...it just means we won't be tied to working within the constraints of gamelan, synths, percussion and dub that we became known for. So stay tuned...surely something lurks around the corner” GKM, November 2024

Australian alternative folk duo Hollow Coves' debut album Moments is a collection of warm, introspective songs that reflect the pair's travels across the globe and their deeply felt experiences along the way.

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

An extremely prolific artist, whose work encompasses composition, opera, theatre, radio plays, film or performance, Ergo Phizmiz returns in due time to the Discrepant fold long after his 'Two Quartets' and 'Disco Carousel' - under his given DW Robertson name - albums. A purveyor of the Creative Commons rights, Phizmiz has been deploying much of his work on the ever expanding Free Music Archive directed by WFMU since the early 2000's, creating a sprawling and defiant body of work that defies given and stale notions of sound hierarchies, history and copyright through a process that comprises collage, sampling, reappropriation, songwriting, covers and pretty much any available media with a playful and thoughtful approach.
For this new Discrepant entry, Phizmiz goes back in time to push into the future a number of pieces recorded more than two decades ago creating this perpetual motion outside a linear chronologic progression. Anticipating by almost 20 years the memefication of ASMR videos, 'Selected Ambient & ASMR Works 2001-2003' - itself a pun on the AFX classics - embraces the ambient tag not at its functional face value, but instead as a means to the "evocation of imaginary spaces, and correspondingly the invention of their sonic environments". Collecting recordings from a myriad of instruments - violin, xylophone, banjo, kora, found percussion and so on...-, shortwave radio and field recordings to create loops with different lengths that play with and/or against themselves continuously in a process "(dis)conjunction" not far removed from Feldman's 'Why Patterns?' or hip-hop's sampledelia. A free-floating temporal space that collapses the flashing images of Angelfire pages unto Web 2.0 sense of displacement.

First Word Records areproud to present a new double-AA sided collaboration from K S R and Konny Kon (Children of Zeus) - 'Part of the Plan / Faded from the Jump', available on 7" vinyl and digital.

Two of Manchester's finest r&b ambassadors, the duo team up for two tracks displaying very different styles of soul music.

'Part of the Plan' has a timeless classic feel, nodding back to the likes of Stax and Atlantic, akin to the contemporary sound of Daptone artists like Jalen Ngonda or Thee Sacred Souls. Waves crash on the dock of the bay, with [ K S R ]'s soulful tones and Konny's laidback production (accompanied by Son of Zeus, Tyler Daley on the backing vox).

'Faded from the Jump' is another three and a half minutes of bliss, taking on a sound that's more signature to the duo's previous work, individually and collectively, sitting somewhere between future r&b, neo-soul and classic Manny street soul. [ K S R ] again takes the lead on this smoothed-out cut, with Konny behind the boards on production.

[ K S R ] hails from Moss Side and has been steadily building a strong rep for himself over the past few years with a slew of releases, including an EP and several singles via First Word. He was named "R&B act to watch" by Complex, and hand-picked by Mahalia to perform an event she curated personally at London's Jazz Cafe. He's toured with artists including Pip Millet, Etta Bond, Mica Miller & The Mouse Outfit, and also collaborated with various d&b artists, such as Zero T, Lenzman, Searchlight and Makoto. Music aside, [ K S R ] has also been creative ambassador for New Balance, Foot Locker, Nike, Size? and Manchester United.

Konny Kon is best known for being one half of hip hop soul duo, Children of Zeus. With performances for Colors and Soulection, and support from peers Jazzy Jeff, Jazzie B, Loose Ends & countless others, Children of Zeus have released two highly-acclaimed albums and two EPs on Worldwide Award winning-label, First Word. Additionally to writing, performing and producing, Konny is a formidable DJ, hosting a popular monthly show on NTS Radio, and performing at numerous events; most recently supporting Mercury Award-winner's Ezra Collective at every date on their European tour, culminating in a show with Children of Zeus at Wembley Arena, London.

Both artists have had wide support across the board from numerous tastemakers, including 1Xtra, BBC Radio 1, BBC 6 Music, Rinse, Represent, Unity, Mixmag, Notion, Hypebeast and tons more. The duo have previously collaborated on 'All on You' (from the CoZ album 'Travel Light') and single 'CGWY' (from [ K S R ]'s EP 'Peace + Harmony').

This single showcases the vocals of [ K S R ] and the production of Konny Kon to a degree that exudes pure quality and class, exemplifying the power of modern British soul music.

'Part of the Plan / Faded from the Jump' is released on 7" vinyl and digital, 22nd November 2024.

Two-Piers präsentiert die nächste Killer-Compilation: "Weird Scenes From The Hangout (Psychedelic & Freakbeat Dancefloor Anthems 1967-1982)", kuratiert von Richard Norris (The Grid, Beyond The Wizard's Sleeve, The Time And Space Machine) und zentriert um seine Liverpooler Clubnacht "The Hangout" in den 1980ern. Dort brachten er und weitere DJs bewusstseinsverändernden Wahnsinn aus Psychedelia und Freakbeat auf die Tanzfläche. Herausragende Songs wie "The Left Banke - I've Got Something On My Mind", "The Turtles - Buzzsaw" oder "Can - Outside Your Door" wurden zu echten Hangout-Hymnen. Man widmete der eher trendy Ausbeute der Spät-Sechziger ebenso viel Zeit wie angesagten Acts, solange der Groove auf dem Dancefloor funktionierte. Das Hangout kam und ging im Nu, aber sein Erbe, psychedelische Fußstampfer auf die Fläche zu bringen, lebt weiter, gemeinsam mit der Liebe zu allem, was mit Beat und Freak zu tun hat.
** Exclusive tracks to Vinyl Format

After Denzel’s debut EP ‘Techniques 4 Life’ last year, the quest for finding those approaches continues. The Helsinki night owl draws from a range of influences here on his sophmore EP ‘Glorified Intake’, taking things into a murkier territory than his previous, made during a transitional period of his life between two cities, H & B.

The first track HKI 13 is an ode to roots. The track is held together by a swerving astral arpeggio combined with chants from a village dance off and stabs that liken to that one Balearic house anthem… The Sun is well on its way below.

Nightrun reduces things to a darker core, howling into the night, embodying a state rather than telling a story. Time goes by, how is it already tomorrow? An after hours tune with a bassline for a hook. Doesn’t get much sleazier than that. Getting down, getting low.
On the flipside, we’ve made it to the beginning of the end, phased out the doubts and gathered up the strength to go on — things are looking brighter. A voice inside your head — trust only yourself.

Finally on the last stretch, light has subsided and darkness has landed once again. We’ve thrown out any notion of what, where and who. Those things don’t matter anymore: we’ve perfected “the state”. It’s go time.

Dischi Fantom’s Sussurra Luce series, blurring the boundaries between text, music and voice, returns with their fifth instalment, an expanded version of Hanne Lippard’s “Talk Shop”. Sculpting a fascinating bridge between radically experimental sound practice, conceptual art, and sound poetry, across its two sides the Berlin based multidisciplinary artist taps an almost dada sensibility, delivering a suite of poems and texts where singular words and sentences are looped and repeated creating a sensory experience of the efficiency and stress found in our private as well as public life.

Roughly a year ago, we had the pleasure of exploring the first two releases from Dischi Fantom’s emerging Sussurra Luce series, Ginevra Bompiani, Caterina Barbieri, and Tomoko Sauvage’s “Il Calore Animale” and Francesco Cavaliere’s “Zoomachia Disc 1”. An extension of the Milan based cultural platform Fantom’s broad and diverse activities (exhibitions, installations, performances, etc.) across numerous artistic disciplines, the series, curated by Francesco Cavaliere and Massimo Torrigiani, delves into the “science of imagination”, working with contemporary authors to explore and blur the boundaries between text, music and voice. Now the brilliant series returns with its latest entry, the Berlin based multidisciplinary artist Hanne Lippard’s “Talk Shop”. Released in a limited edition of 200 copies and coming with an LP-sized booklet, it combines orality and textuality with the idea of loop and repetition to explore the notion of time, and it’s a stunning gesture of performative poetics that plums a startling range of subjects through its sonorous forms.

Working across the fields of text, vocal performance, sound installation, printed objects and sculpture, for more than a decade Hanne Lippard has deployed language as the raw material for her work. Working within a practice that rests at the juncture of the spoken and written word, drawing upon content appropriated from the public sphere (found text) intertwined with her own words, Lippard’s work investigates how the rise in digital communication and mediation reprograms our relationship to language, presenting the subsequent fragility of language - its flaws, oddities, and potential for misinterpretation - and its attempts to convey meaning and sense.

“Talk Shop”, the fifth instalment of Dischi Fantom’s Sussurra Luce series and Lippard’s third recorded release - building upon the ground of 2020's “Work”, issued by Collapsing Market, and 2021's “PigeonPostParis”, released by Boomkat Editions - began as a live performance. Combining orality and textuality with the idea of loop and repetition to explore the notion of time, its relationship with the world of work today, and its personification through the experience of the human body - anonymity as the spearhead of the digital economy - the conceptual underpinnings of the piece depart from the notion that the human voice has become commodified by the ubiquitous nature of contemporary productivity, and intertwined with the mechanics of capital - the voices of satnavs, smart speakers and voicemail systems - while the written word has become increasingly anonymous online.

Addressing vocal anonymity as a spearhead of the digital economy, Lippard’s “Talk Shop” - regarded by the artist as “a compilation of poems and texts where singular words and sentences are looped and repeated creating a sensory experience of the efficiency and stress found in our private as well as public life” - taps an almost dada sensibility through its unexpected layers of meanings drawn from a maximalized approach to the potential of the human voice, creating an engrossing and challenging listen from the first sounding to the last, that continues to reveal itself and unfold with every return.

Sculpting a fascinating bridge between radically experimental sound practice, conceptual art, and sound poetry, it culminates as one of the most strikingly singular creative gestures we’re likely to encounter this year. Highly recommended and not to be missed.

Hanne Lippard (Milton Keynes, 1984) explores the social forms that govern discourse. Her artistic practice, which mainly takes the form of reading and sound installations, investigates the voice as an instrument of emancipation and alienation in times of hyper-connectivity. By mixing personal thoughts and appropriating texts from advertising, slogans and newspaper articles, the text becomes a mix of private and public that regains inventiveness and authorship through the use of the voice, becoming a body of its own. Her recent artistic research has focused on the use of the female body as a container of sounds, on the conscious and unconscious automation of speech and language.

12” paddling pool blue vinyl, is an edition of 500. CD Digifile. Following the runaway success of their critically acclaimed 2021 second album Contender, the question for fast-rising London four-piece Fightmilk was always going to be “what next?” With a tight indie-pop sound that defined their early recordings, the answer was obvious to a band who seem hellbent on the notion of evolve or die… The band originally formed in 2015 in a Brixton pub garden by Lily and Alex, who had both, separately, just been dumped and thought being in an angry punk band would cheer them up. Then they found Nick and Healey to hold the rhythm down and make them sound good. With three albums under their belt, they’ve perfected their chaotic, melodic brand of joy and rage-filled pop with full-throated yelling and sparkling guitar riffs as their trademark. They’ve graduated from angsty whippersnappers in their mid-twenties to overgrown teenage 30-somethings with mild ongoing back and shoulder pain. Their previous 2 albums Not With That Attitude (2018) & Contender (2021) marked them out as an ambitious and rising prospect, and now on their forthcoming new album No Souvenirs the band eschew their former Britpop ties and edge further into DIY punk and heavier rock influences to reveal a leaner, meaner, more abrasive side to their cathartic lo-fi anthems. Whilst collectively diving into their passion for Jimmy Eat World, frontwoman Lily Rae made a conscious decision to strengthen her “big loud yell” with influence from Alicia Bognanno (Bully), Nat Foster (Press Club), and Missy Dabice (Mannequin Pussy). “My voice is the biggest it’s ever been and I’m constantly thrilled when people are surprised at how loud I am, considering I’m so small in stature,” she grins. “Lyrically I always look to Bruce Springsteen for inspiration but I also really enjoyed the angsty candour of Sour by Olivia Rodrigo, and Kacey Musgraves’ impeccable one-liners.” There are a few genre experiments on the record—Yo La Tengo in ‘Paddling Pool’, ‘Canines’ is part The Strokes and part Neu!, and ‘Back From Tour’ was heavily influenced by long term friends Johnny Foreigner. “You could probably make a case for ‘Inferno’ having a bit of Counting Crows to it, but we were never writing to emulate,” explains guitarist Alex. “The references and touchstones just happened along the way. As far as we’re concerned, they just sound like Fightmilk - and that’s a really nice place to be nearly a decade in.” “That said, we’ve also been REALLY picky with the songs that made it onto the album - there’s probably an-other album’s worth of songs that didn’t feel right, even if we loved them. We got really good at finding the “magic thing” in each song that made it work.” Spilling over with candid lyrics about death, doomed love, and dog bites, framed by endless punk energy and the kind of full-throated riff-rock that sounds just at home in a giant stadium as it does in a sticky-floored toilet bar, No Souvenirs is a triumphant return from the band, who are equally enthused by the album. “I only realised after we put the songs together how personal to me this album was,” explains Lily. “Not just because I’m writing about extremely specific sitcom episodes in my life (getting fired from bridesmaid duty, being bitten on the arse by a dog, being relentlessly asked when I’m going to have kids), but because whilst we were making it, I turned 30. It’s a significant age for women, especially in music, because aside from being something called a ‘geriatric millennial’, there’s an unspoken rule that there’s a cut-off point for you to have ‘made it’ and after that you have to settle down and be normal.” For Lily, writing for the album also aligned with the 10th anniversary of the death of a close friend, with the resulting track ‘No Souvenirs’ lending its title to the album as a whole. “It had taken me that long to write about it in a way I felt ok with. But I realised that I couldn’t have written it before,” she explains. “I needed that distance, and that maturity, to be able to articulate those feelings. It feels to me now like the album is about scorched earth, moving on, taking nothing with you for the next ‘thing’ - and realising that getting older is a privilege.” Bringing a huge amount of energy and joy with them whenever and wherever they hit a stage, interacting with the audience is a vital part of the Fightmilk live experience. “Without people singing and dancing at us we wouldn’t have gigs at all, so we want everyone to get involved!” says Lily of the band’s future tour plans

Beeinflusst von DC-Punk und der Politik, die Dischord, TeenBeat und die Riot Grrrl-Revolution inspirierten, stürzten Tsunami aus Arlington, Virginia in die 90er Jahre mit Witz, Verzerrung und einem scharfzüngigen feministischen Geist. Diese Box mit fünf LPs enthält Songs von elf Singles, 4-Track-Demos, die Alben "Deep End" von 1993, "The Heart's Tremolo" von 1994 sowie die allererste Vinyl-Pressung des gefeierten "A Brilliant Mistake" von 1997. Aus dem Kofferarchiv ihres eigenen Labels Simple Machines Records schöpfend, sind Tsunamis Ambitionen - von Kellerkonzerten bis hin zur zweiten Bühne des Lollapalooza - in Essays, Fotos und Ephemera festgehalten, die diesen Teil der DIY-Geschichte der alternativen Musikrevolution belegen.

Beeinflusst von DC-Punk und der Politik, die Dischord, TeenBeat und die Riot Grrrl-Revolution inspirierten, stürzten Tsunami aus Arlington, Virginia in die 90er Jahre mit Witz, Verzerrung und einem scharfzüngigen feministischen Geist. Diese Box mit fünf LPs enthält Songs von elf Singles, 4-Track-Demos, die Alben "Deep End" von 1993, "The Heart's Tremolo" von 1994 sowie die allererste Vinyl-Pressung des gefeierten "A Brilliant Mistake" von 1997. Aus dem Kofferarchiv ihres eigenen Labels Simple Machines Records schöpfend, sind Tsunamis Ambitionen - von Kellerkonzerten bis hin zur zweiten Bühne des Lollapalooza - in Essays, Fotos und Ephemera festgehalten, die diesen Teil der DIY-Geschichte der alternativen Musikrevolution belegen.

“Christmas is constant,” says Ben Folds. “Allowing you to take stock of what’s different, to understand who you are and all the ways you’ve grown and changed.” That notion lies at the heart of Folds’ brilliantly titled new holiday collection, Sleigher. Built on an eclectic mix of originals and reimagined classics, the album examines thepassage of time through the lens of Christmas, reflecting on memory, loss, and longing as it explores the variety of ways the yuletide season marks the chapters of our lives. The songs are playful here, full of humor and cheer, but they’re also laced with an inescapable sense of melancholy, a looming darkness that always seems to hover around the periphery of those late December nights. Folds’ performances, meanwhile, flirt with the standards while stretching the boundaries of tradition, at times offering up flashes of Vince Guaraldi and Burt Bacharach while still remaining true to Folds’ singularly virtuosic brand of off-kilter indie pop. The result is not so much a Ben Folds Christmas record as it is a Ben Folds record set at Christmas, a meditation on the inexorable turning of the calendar and our ever changing selves as observed at the most wonderful—and challenging—time of the year.

"Back in print, on purple nebula vinyl!

While the exuberance and joy of Stovall dealt with vocalist/guitarist Nathan Hardy’s wide-eyed wonder at a world previously obscured by a strict religious upbringing and his time as a Mormon missionary – songs of innocence, if you will – Much Love details the aftermath once that awestruck amazement has been dampened by the harsh realities of life.

These, then, are songs of experience, the sound of growing pains (with the emphasis very much on the pain), on the trials and tribulations that come after the euphoria of freedom. That’s not to say that the first album was devoid of drama, because it was full of it, but the ten tracks that make up Much Love certainly traverse darker, more unstable territory by confronting the very existence and notion of life as Hardy once knew it.

Recorded and produced, like Stovall, by Travis Hill, Much Love is a more abrasive, rawer set of songs than its predecessor, more The Devil And God Are Raging Inside Me than Deja Entendu. Yes, Microwave are very much still recognizable as the same band, but at the same time these songs are a conscious evolution of their sound."

Crypt of the Wizard is proud to present Necro Soft - Don't Test the Unmaker's Patience on vinyl and digital formats. What if the devil recorded a record? Would it scream for attention as loud as it could, with all knobs turned to 10? Would it be just another relentless wall of noise vying for your shortened attention, only to be forgotten while the next hot thing is being released, but this time, once again, promising a more raw and extreme experience than previously imagined? Seems unlikely. Satan is a subtle seducer. Luring and waiting are his tactics. His is the insidious rhythm that runs down your leg, causing your foot to tap while your lying lips are still saying, "This isn’t really my kind of thing." All sequins and satin, laughter and fun, while whispering in your ear about his plans for the final destruction of the infinite universe so quietly, you forget to stop enjoying yourself. Necro Soft’s debut LP Don't Test the Unmaker's Patience is crafted from this very notion. Rising from Copenhagen’s unrelentingly creative Mayhem scene with connections to bands such as Ryg Din Sidste Bøn and Gabestok, you already know you’re in for something special. With the devil at the helm and influenced as much by contemporary black metal as by the UK big beat scene of the 1990s, bands such as The Prodigy are seldom listed as having an impact on underground metal records, but here we are! A shimmering wash of drum machine rhythms and perpetual pop production designed to ensnare listeners with its irresistible beats while subtly corrupting their souls. Listening to Necro Soft is akin to entering some kind of damned Heavy Metal disco, high as a kite, and fixating on the glittering mirror ball in the ceiling before noticing that the floor is sticky with blood.