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This band, and this album, function as critical missing links that takes one from The Fall to Yard Act, from Television and The Minutemen to Parquet Courts and Sleaford Mods, from punk as a sound to punk purely as an ethos. While any Van Pelt album is a stand alone album, the unique approach they take begs one to enter their world and dig deep in.

RELATED TO: The Lapse, Native Nod, St Vincent, Blonde Redhead, Enon, Jets to Brazil, Vague Angels, Ted Leo and the Pharmacists, American Football, Texas is the Reason.

‘The lines between post-hardcore, indie rock, and emo blurred on the two mid-’90s full-lengths from the Van Pelt.’ Pitchfork

‘New York City’s The Van Pelt are an influential, but too often overlooked indie rock band -- cult favorites for many an emo-inclined crate digger.’ Consequence of Sound

‘...should be mentioned a lot more than they are when you talk about the history of emo.’
Washed Up Emo

Back in the day there was this thing called an A&R guy. They would hang out at small venues looking to throw money at the next big thing. In the early 90s, everyone was looking for the next Nirvana of course. NYC's The Van Pelt had just released an album of anthems called "Stealing From Our Favorite Thieves" that seemed to be just that. The only thing is, they didn't want to sign. Legend has it $2 million was turned down over pierogies and coffee one Monday morning because The Van Pelt didn't want to risk crashing and burning. Instead, they were gunning for a long and stable stride even if that meant they would largely remain out of the public's eye forever.

Lack of willingness to play the game didn't mean people weren't waiting with baited breath for their follow up album though. In 1997 The Van Pelt released "Sultans of Sentiment", an album nearly devoid of the anthems and licks people were expecting. In fact, it's a complete bummer of an album that subjects the listener to the point on life's curve where the hubris of youth gives way to a cresting crashing defeat no kid with heart could ever have seen coming. Seeing as humanity are sick fuckers who revel in the misery of both themselves and others, the popularity of Sultans grew and grew and continues to win new loyal fans even today. It's for this classic album The Van Pelt has never fallen off the radar.

That being said, their swan song "The Speeding Train" was recorded while they were working on their third album. In any other age, in any other way, this song would have been a hit. The Van Pelt broke up mid-recording, released Speeding Train as a single, and the rest of the songs from that session didn't see the light of day until they were released in 2014 as the "Imaginary Third" lp.

Why are we here talking about them today in 2023? Because in preparation for the release of "Imaginary Third" The Van Pelt started playing some reunion shows. Soundchecks revealed to them that this band has a voice that was prematurely muted by their inability to see clearly in the thick of it. Returning to explore just what that is 25 years later has led to this first collection of 9 songs, "Artisans & Merchants". This is not a reunion album. This is vindication for that decision made over pierogies and coffee decades ago. The Van Pelt is a band in it for the long haul, free from whatever trappings the mayflies of trends and markets may bring.

For lovers of The Van Pelt, listening to "Artisans & Merchants" is like hearing the voice of a dear friend you haven't seen in years, a friend you used to share countless beers with over banter that went nowhere other than delivering a solid night. Your friend is older, they've changed. In some ways you're worried for them, looks like they might be teetering on the brink of something. In other ways it's the same old them, a nugget of a soul too unique to ever be altered. It's for those unfamiliar with The Van Pelt though for whom we should be truly jealous. This is a stand alone album, incredible vital song writing in and of itself regardless of the long history this band has. The climax of the single "Image of Health" perhaps describes the beautiful desperation best: "And you never felt more alive / Than when the priest came to read you your rites!"

Cal Tjader Jr. was a key figure in Latin Jazz, blending Latin, African, and Caribbean rhythms. A music prodigy, he influenced the genre profoundly.

Bebo Valdés, born in Cuba in 1918, was a key figure in Afro-Cuban jazz, blending traditional rhythms and collaborating with legends like Nat King Cole.

Ltd Edition!

Mit ihrem bahnbrechenden Album 'Here in the Pitch' hat sich die in Los Angeles lebende Künstlerin Jessica Pratt als Songwriterin einer neuen Generation etabliert und ist die klare Nachfolgerin von Folk-Ikonen wie Nick Drake und Joni Mitchell sowie von genialen orchestralen Pop-Komponisten wie Brian Wilson und Burt Bacharach. Das unaufdringliche und doch ehrgeizige Album hat bei Kritikern und Fans gleichermaßen Anklang gefunden und brachte ihr bis heute über 15 Millionen Albumstreams ein, wichtige Beiträge in der New York Times und bei Zane Lowe, ausverkaufte Shows von Los Angeles bis London, Kollaborationen mit den Modemarken Chanel, Valentino und Chloé und einen Live-Auftritt in der Late Show mit Stephen Colbert, wo sie ihre herausragende Single „Life Is“ vorstellte. Pratts einzigartige Stimme und ihr Stil erregten auch die Aufmerksamkeit von A$AP Rocky, was zu ihrer brillanten gemeinsamen Single „HIGHJACK“ führte, die im Sommer 2024 veröffentlicht wurde.

Ausgezeichnet als „Best Of The Year so far): Pitchfork, NPR, The New York Times, Paste, Stereogum, Rolling Stone

BRAND NEW STUDIO ALBUM FOR AN ITALIAN PROG-ROCK LEGENDS!

The comeback of the Milanese band Alphataurus can only have the status of a big event among fans of Italian progressive rock, thanks mainly to the indelible mark left several decades ago with their 1973 eponymous masterpiece. After ten years of absence, filled with a long series of live appearances, Alphataurus once again knocks on the doors of prog-rockers with a brand new album, whose long recording process unfortunately ended with the departure of founder guitarist Guido Wassermann.

“2084: Viaggio nel Nulla” (2084: Journey into Nowhere) is a 100% Alphataurus record, starting from its beautiful and futuristic three-panel cover illustrated by the band’s new drummer, recalling the paintings of the magnificent debut album.

In 2007, John Prine & bluegrass legend Mac Wiseman teamed up for a duet album of their favorite country, folk, and gospel songs.

Jonas Munk closes his ambient trilogy with mammoth drone pieces, multi-layered guitars and hymnal krautrock. "Mirror Phase" concludes a trilogy of minimal ambient albums in Munk's (Causa Sui) own name. These eight compositions, based on guitar and synthesizer loops, marks a return to the warmer sounds Munk is often associated with. Sonic structures that slowly and gradually evolves and changes, like cloud formations in the sky. The title track, "Mirror Phase", is Munk's most expansive drone opus so far. It's a carefully arranged piece where sounds that oscillates with the same interval, but at different phases, are continuously added, hence creating shifting patterns throughout the track's nearly 18 minute duration. Elsewhere, in "Transition", multi-layered guitars creates the sonic equivalent of waves gently splashing on the shore. "At a Distance" creates a haunting, and hypnotic, soundscape by using slightly out-of-tune analog synthesizers, summoning the transcendent krautrock of Popol Vuh. And "Rise", as well as the closing track, "Return to Nowhere", recalls the glistening sounds of his Manual releases. "Mirror Phase" might just be Munk's ambient oeuvre reaching its zenith. The CD edition comes with an extra CD with Jonas Munk's 2021 album, "Altered Light", which has previously only been released on digital download and streaming.

Lili Holland-Fricke and Sean Rogan’s debut album “dear alien” is a constellation of radiant improvised impulses, imagined in lucent fragments of cello, guitar and voice. Spacious, tender and glistening with rich electronic distortion, the record melds a spectrum of processed and natural sound as the artists invite listeners into their dreamlike world of synergetic introspections.

Cultivated through a shared spirit of resourcefulness and play, “dear alien” emerges as an organic meeting place in the compositional output of British-German experimental cellist Lili Holland-Fricke and Manchester-born guitarist and producer Sean Rogan. Having studied their respective instruments at the Royal Northern College of Music, both artists have flourished in eclectic solo and collaborative projects, creating intricate and intimate spheres of sound with a deep appreciation for songwriting and improvisation.

Holland-Fricke’s transition from the classical world to writing her own material, and later vastly expanding her palette with electronics, first converged with Rogan’s distinctive flair for production in 2022 on her EP “birdsong for breakfast” and single ‘draw on the walls’. Now, the duo present an album envisioned through true ‘50/50’ collaboration during the summer of 2023, written across two intensive weeks of improvising and experimenting at Rogan’s Greenwich home studio. A convergence of the artists’ sounds and influences, the music was fostered by the idea of making an album with ‘no plan’ and their shared recent discovery of Arthur Russell, to whom the final track is dedicated.

“dear alien” assembles eight compositions that emerged naturally as the duo created sketches with cello and pedals, guitar, tape loops and poetic vocal musings, forming songs that explore themes of waiting, circling back around, and glitchy communication. Moments of drifting through pillowy layers of sound contrast with saturated visions of electronic modification, where the record’s glowing instrumental contours are pushed to the extremes.

The plaintive shades of ‘half blue’ and meandering deliberations of ‘slow thing’ are teased by the friction of static signals and a sense of ever-mutating sonic mass – a sensibility most acutely realised in ‘dawning’, where cello-vocoder eruptions grow in magnitude, the absence of sound between them burdened with something sinister and unspoken. As the artists expand on this piece, ‘It’s the sound equivalent of squeezing your eyes shut to shield against the brightness of something you don’t want to see, only to find that each time you open them again the world is not softening but getting more relentlessly overwhelming, to the point of being totally blinding.’

Three tracks with lyrics – ‘at first’, ‘dear alien’ and ‘seem asleep’ – refract the album’s wistful and melancholic colours into poetic imagery and metaphors, ushering in reflections on relationship tensions and someone close feeling unknown, with hints towards wider unsettled feelings about climate change. In the spirit of lyrical improv, ‘seem asleep’ compiles lone lines from Holland-Fricke’s journals into a cut-and-paste collage around hopeful patience or futile lingering – either way conjuring a softness that welcomes the hazy ambience of ‘for a. r.’, the final composition which soundscapes the summer days spent making the album. As the artists describe of this track, ‘The music kind of leads somewhere, but then kind of leads nowhere, and just meanders around where it is, content to just be walking in a circle back to where it started.’

Ramkot is a wrecking ball from Ghent, Belgium, playing powerful yet danceable rock music. After two EP’s and building a reputation as one of the most exciting live bands around, the spring of 2023 sees the release of debut album In Between Borderlines, a razor-sharp 25-minute uppercut aiming for both head and hips. They tour extensively, playing a hefty 100 shows in just one year: from steamy venues and sun-drenched festival stages (Pinkpop, Down The Rabbit Hole) to even opening for Metallica in Amsterdam. For their sophomore album, instead of producing it themselves again, Ramkot enlist producer Alain Johannes (QOTSA, Eagles of Death Metal, Them Crooked Vultures), who invites them to the Joshua Tree desert. For three weeks, Ramkot reside in the legendary Rancho De La Luna studio, famous for QOTSA frontman Josh Homme’s The Desert Sessions. ‘We pulled out all the stops, not pushing our foot down on the accelerator all the time, which allows the music to breathe more. There’ll be a couple of softer songs the fans will not be expecting from us.’ But rest assured, every single note still sounds very much like Ramkot. The band will only play a handful of shows this year, including 2000 Trees (UK), Sziget (H), Pukkelpop and Lowlands.

How wild did things get in 1967? So wild that a label (Audio Fidelity) not particularly known for its hipness put out a record with an insert to send away for “psychedelic ornaments” so you, too, could throw an acid party! And the back cover offered “instructions” referencing everybody from Emmett Grogan of the Diggers to Albert Hofmann, the discoverer of LSD. But perhaps the most amazing thing about this album was that, despite its almost comical (though well- informed) attempt to cash in on the psychedelic craze, How to Blow Your Mind and Have a Freak-Out Party wound up being a charming and even entrancing psych-pop gem of a record, albeit one with its requisite share of Eastern-influenced mumbo-jumbo. For its first-ever American vinyl reissue, we’re pressing up just 500 copies in “orange sunshine” vinyl, complete with the insert (you can try sending it in, but don’t get your hopes up). Groovy, man!

Where would a painter paint if it were not on a white canvas? Where would a composer compose if it were not on the stave and the spaces in between the lines? How would a musician play his instrument if there were no melodies composed, written down, painted for him to follow?

The magic of art needs a frame, a somewhat solid container to hold the freedom that can only be found once we integrate some form of structure. And that also holds in every other area of life. We all need a frame, a structure, a rhythm, or else, we fall apart. This human form needs the body, and yet it transcends the limitations of the body - through art.

Consistency being one of them seems oftentimes less tangible, for it resides more in the act of doing, and showing up for the practice, for devoting energy and presence. Strangely, if we consistently show up for our practice, regardless of its form, the solid frame of the hour we devote to playing the instrument, learning a language, doing the sport, sitting silently for that meditation: It feels different every single time. It feels new every single time.

The repetitive consistency in being present again and again allows for nothing short of magic to happen. Magic feeds consistency. Consistency feeds magic. Consistency sets a foundation that strengthens over time. It allows us to slowly but surely develop any kind of skill, to find and hence to embody expertise. On the fertile grounds of such a solid foundation, creativity fosters, and innovation blossoms.

Establishing consistent rituals and routines can bring a sense of comfort and safety into every-day-life. For routine beholds repetition and its frame enables our experience within to change. In the familiar, we dare to explore, maybe even experiment, merely because a part of us remembers we depart from, and always return to, a safe space. We do not get lost. We do not fall apart. As we practice, again and again, we build resilience in overcoming obstacles or literally persevering through challenging situations and stretches of time.

While consistency gifts steadiness and stability, its overdose risks to result in what may appear as uniformity. It feels like constantly - consistently - dancing on the fine line of freedom within a structure. Life is filled with unexpected twists and turns, adjustments need to be made to accommodate change and avoid rigidity. By striking a balance between consistency and flexibility, we can create harmony in our lives, just like a beautiful melody that flows smoothly from one note to the next.

Within the magical waves of music, skills are needed, too. Consistency is key to show up and do the work. It frames the freedom of magic that resides beyond and only beyond effort. Learning to play an instrument, learning to sing, does never happen within the blink of the eye. It takes time. Time to show up for the practice, to do precisely that: practice. Again and again, every single time, again and again. Precision feeds perfection that falls apart inside the structure of a song, a line, a rhythm, dissolving into magic.

Consistency in practicing, in composing and sharing music with the world regardless of the form allows any musician to refine his style, to carve out his uniqueness. For any artistic expression is, after all: Unique. And this uniqueness is born inside the vessel of any structure, over and over again. Sharing music in the form of new releases and public performances nourishes the bond between artist and audience. And for that to unfold, both parties need to show up - while the underlying beat of this never-ending practice is presence fuelled by consistency.

The Zeros is a pioneer punk rock band formed in 1976 in Chula Vista, California. Comparisons with The Ramones are often made when describing the energetic and fierce guitar driven sound of the group. The first singles recorded by the band instantly catapulted The Zeros into a top draw on the local scene and have become legendary. Unfortunately, the band never cut an album during these days. Their debut single was released in 1977 on Greg Shaw's very own Bomp! Records. It included 'Don't Push Me Around' and 'Wimp', two of the greatest punk rock songs of all time, both written by Javier Escovedo. It was followed by another single in 1978, "Wild Weekend" and a third one in 1980, "They Say That (Everything's Alright)". This release compiles all their early singles, some rare tracks (including the previously unreleased 'Left to Right') and songs taken from a 1978 live show. Munste is thrilled to reissue this essential '80s power pop gem as part of a series of releases celebrating Bomp! 50th anniversary.

Camelot, the legendary seat of King Arthur's court in Early Middle Ages Britain, was probably not a real place. A corruption of the name of a real Romano-Briton city, the word "Camelot" accumulated symbolic, mythic resonances over centuries, until achieving its present usage as a near-synonym of "utopia." In the mid-20th century alone, Camelot inspired an explosion of representations and appropriations, among them the violent, affectless Arthurian court of Robert Bresson's 1974 film Lancelot du Lac and the absurdist iteration of Monty Python's 1975 Holy Grail, both of which feature armored knights erupting into fountains of blood; the mystical Welsh world of novelist John Cowper Powys's profoundly weird 1951 novel Porius, with its Roman cults, wizards and witches, and wanton giants; and the nationalist nostalgia of President John F. Kennedy's White House. Unsurprisingly there are fewer Camelots in more recent memory. Camelot, Canadian songwriter Jennifer Castle's extraordinary, moving 2024 chronicle of the artist in early middle age, charts a realer, more rooted, and more metaphorical place than the fabled Camelot of the Early Middle Ages (or its myriad depictions), but it too is a space more psychic than physical. In Castle's Camelot, the fantastic interpenetrates the mundane, and the Grail, if there is one, distills everyday experience into art and art into faith, subliming terrestrial concerns into sublime celestial prayers to Mother Nature, and to the unfolding process of perfecting imperfection in one's own nature. Co-produced by Jennifer and longtime collaborator Jeff McMurrich, her seventh record is at once her most monumental and unguarded to date, demonstrating a mastery of rendering her verse and melodies alike with crisply poignant economy. For all their pointedly plainspoken lyrical detail and exhilarating full-band musical flourishes, these songs sound inevitable, eternal as morning devotions. "Back in Camelot," she sings on the lilting, vulnerable title track, "I really learned a lot / circles in the crops and / sky-high geometry." The album opens with a candid admission of sleeping "in the unfinished basement," an embarrassing joke that comes true. But the dreamer is redeemed by dreaming, setting sail in her airborne bed above "sirens and desert deities." If she questions her own agency_whether she is "wishing stones were standing" or just "pissing in the wind"_it does not diminish the ineffable existential jolt of such signs and wonders. This abiding tension between belief and doubt, magic and pragmatism, self and other, sacred and profane, and even, arguably, paganism and monotheism, suffuses these ten songs, which limn an interior landscape shot through with sunstriped shadows of "multi-felt dimensions" both mystical and quotidian. The epic scale and transport of "Camelot," with its swooning strings, gives way dramatically to "Some Friends," an acoustic-guitar-and-vocals meditation in miniature on Janus-faced friends and the lunar and solar temperatures of their promises_"bright and beaming verses" versus hot curses_which recalls her minimalist last album, 2020's achingly intimate Monarch Season. (In a symmetrical sequencing gesture, the penultimate track, the incantatory "Earthsong," bookends the central six with a similarly spare solo performance and coiled chord progression, this time an ambiguous appeal to _ a wounded lover? a wounded saint? our wounded planet?) Those whom "Trust" accuses of treacherous oaths spit through "gilded and golden tooth"_cynics, critics, hypocrites, gurus, scientists, doctors, lovers, government, the so-called entertainment industry_sow uncertainty that can infect the artist, as in "Louis": "What's that dance / and can it be done? What's that song / and can it be sung?" Answering affirmatively are "Lucky #8," an irrepressible ode to dancing as a bulwark against the "tidal pools of pain" and the "theory of collapse," and "Full Moon in Leo," which finds the narrator dancing around the house with a broom, wearing nothing but her underwear and "big hair." But the central question remains: who can we trust, and at what cost faith, in art or angels or otherwise? Castle's confidence in her collaborators is the cornerstone of Camelot. Carl Didur (piano and keys), Evan Cartwright (drums and percussion), and steadfast sideman Mike Smith (bass) comprise a rhythm section of exquisite delicacy and depth. This fundamental trio anchors the airiness of regular backing vocalists Victoria Cheong and Isla Craig and frames the guitars of Castle, McMurrich, and Paul Mortimer (and on "Lucky #8," special guest Cass McCombs). Reprising his decennial role on Castle's beloved 2014 Pink City, Owen Pallett arranged the strings for Estonia's FAMES Skopje Studio Orchestra. On the ravishing country-soul ballad "Blowing Kisses"_Pallett's crowning achievement here, which can be heard in its entirety in the penultimate episode of the third season of FX's The Bear_Jennifer contemplates time and presence, love and prayer_and how songwriting and poetry both manifest and limit all four dimensions: "No words to fumble with / I'm not a beggar to language any longer." Such rare moments of speechlessness_"I'm so fucking honoured," she bluntly proclaims_suggest a state "only a god could come up with." (If Camelot affirms Castle as one of the great song-poets of her generation, she is not immune to the despairing linguistic beggary that plagues all writers.) Camelot evinces a thoroughgoing faith not only in the natural world_including human bodies, which can, miraculously, dance and swim and bleed and embrace and birth_but also in our interpretations of and interventions in it: the "charts and diagrams" of "Lucky #8," a daydreamt billboard on Fairfax Ave. in LA in "Full Moon in Leo," the bloody invocations of the organ-stained "Mary Miracle," and all manner of water worship, rivers in particular. (Notably, Jennifer has worked as a farmer and a doula.) The album ends with "Fractal Canyon"'s repeated, exalted insistence that she's "not alone here." But where is here? The word "utopia" itself constitutes a pun, indicating in its ambiguous first syllable both the Greek "eutopia," or "good-place"_the facet most remembered today_and "outopia," or "no-place," a negative, impossible geography of the mind. Utopia, like its metonym Camelot, is imaginary. Or as fellow Canadian songwriter Neil Young once sang, "Everyone knows this is nowhere." "Can you see how I'd be tempted," Castle asks out of nowhere, held in the mystery, "to pretend I'm not alone and let the memory bend?"

Bob Balch here. This second SLOWER record "Rage And Ruin" consists of Amy Tung-Barrysmith (Year Of The Cobra) on vocals and bass, Esben Willems (Monolord) on drums and myself Bob Balch (Fu Manchu, Big Scenic Nowhere/Yawning Balch) on guitar. When we started this album the original intention was to cover SLAYER's EP "Haunting The Chapel" in its entirety. We started with "Chemical Warfare" then went on to "Haunting The Chapel" but once we got to "Captor Of Sin" we realized that tune didn't want to be slowed down at all. So we started writing our own songs and I'm glad we did. The result is "Rage And Ruin." Two sides with Slayer songs in the middle bookended by SLOWER originals. We are super proud of this record and can't wait for you to hear it!! Mixed and Mastered by the very talented Esben Willems. Recorded at our individual studios.

Neon orange vinyl, limited to 300 copies. Bob Balch here. This second SLOWER record "Rage And Ruin" consists of Amy Tung-Barrysmith (Year Of The Cobra) on vocals and bass, Esben Willems (Monolord) on drums and myself Bob Balch (Fu Manchu, Big Scenic Nowhere/Yawning Balch) on guitar. When we started this album the original intention was to cover SLAYER's EP "Haunting The Chapel" in its entirety. We started with "Chemical Warfare" then went on to "Haunting The Chapel" but once we got to "Captor Of Sin" we realized that tune didn't want to be slowed down at all. So we started writing our own songs and I'm glad we did. The result is "Rage And Ruin." Two sides with Slayer songs in the middle bookended by SLOWER originals. We are super proud of this record and can't wait for you to hear it!! Mixed and Mastered by the very talented Esben Willems. Recorded at our individual studios.

Saxophonist and musical omnivore Benjamin Herman has been one of Holland’s most productive musicians of his generation for over three decades. Aside from thousands of gigs, Benjamin has released over 50 albums as a solo artist and as frontman of his groove-orientated ensemble New Cool Collective. His wonderfully diverse musical output includes straight-ahead jazz, Gypsy jazz, punk jazz, film scores, Afrobeat, Latin music and postmodern interpretations of pieces by Dutch composer Misha Mengelberg, as well as collaborations with vocalists, poets, pop stars, hip-hop artists, and instrumentalists from all over the world. The common thread is his quest for a recognizable, personal sound on the alto saxophone. As usual, his latest album finds him exploring new territory.

With his Bughouse project, he fulfills his long-standing desire to blend his old loves of punk and jazz. The latest Bughouse album, "Bughouse: The ERUS / ARC Sessions”, displays the versatility of Benjamin Herman's Bughouse, covering a wide range of styles from jazz-punk to noise, free jazz, and beyond.

THE TWO CLASSIC EARLY SINGLES ORIGINALLY ON THE BLACK EYES LABEL. RE-PRESSED AND REISSUED ON RED AND BLACK SPLATTER VINYL. PLUS FIVE 1982 DEMOS FROM THE LEGENDARY PETE BURNS FRONTED BAND. CAPTURING DEAD OR ALIVE’S MUTATION FROM PROTO- GOTHIC ROCK BAND TO HI-NRG POP SUPERSTARS.

Having been ‘discovered’ working in Liverpool’s Probe Records during the punk rock explosion of the late 1970s, Pete Burns found himself fronting his own band, Nightmares In Wax who mutated into the more familiar Dead Or Alive, eventually bringing Pete into the UK pop mainstream, and a star was born.

Bringing together two-self-released 1982 singles and a collection of early versions of HiNRG tracks which would eventually find their way onto the band’s debut album, ‘Let Them Drag My Soul Away’ showcases the blossoming of one of the 80s pop scene’s most colourful characters.

Repressed on suitably atmospheric red and black vinyl and housed in a cover photograph by Dead Or Alive’s then manager Francesco Mellina, ‘Let Them Drag My Soul Away’ presents a last glimpse at a pre-stardom Pete, and a long overdue back story accompaniment for fans and collectors alike.

Love Is A Flame In The Dark is the debut album by experimental songwriter Karl D’Silva. A raw labour of love, a towering spire of twisted steel, tenderness and becoming, it’s a body of songs that belies the virtuoso talents of an artist whose reputation has been built on collaborating with various avant garde underground luminaries. Self-recorded at home in Rotherham and pulsing with the conviction of a true believer, these songs burst out of their self-consciousness to meet life head on, bristling with energy, 10 glimpses of the human spirit in the darkness.
Recorded throughout 2021 - 2023 and mixed in Leeds with engineer Ross Halden, D’Silva has constructed a Pop language for himself. Mutated songs that owe a small debt to the post-Industrial music of Cabaret Voltaire, Nine Inch Nails and Coil, they’re nonetheless powered by a vigorous tenderness, earnestness and D’Silva’s knack for melody. Each song is meticulously sound-designed, using synthesised sounds created from scratch married with D’Silva’s virtuoso playing on saxophone and guitar. The songs on Love Is A Flame In The Dark are unabashed, earnest love letters to living, requiems for a world fading away and small gestures of solidarity in the face of entropy.
Until now, D’Silva’s fingerprints could be found on live dates with Thurston Moore, Oren Ambarchi, Hardcore pioneers Siege and Rian Treanor as well as recordings by previous groups Trumpets Of Death and Drunk In Hell. Primarily associated with the alto saxophone in his improvisation work, Love Is A Flame In The Dark features a dizzying array of instrumentation, all played by D’Silva. D’Silva’s current membership of the group Vanishing may be a good touchstone for the dense, sonically thrilling world-building on the album but the most
striking instrument, perhaps, is D’Silva’s voice. With a soulful, rasping timbre resulting from prolonged intubation as a new-born, his vocal is both fearless and tender. On the soaring, electronic body mover Wild Kiss, thundering percussion is in service to Karl’s voice full of desire, arching up into a flayed falsetto. It’s a trick repeated on Flowers Start To Cry, where it’s deployed against the backdrop of layers of ripping alto and thudding drum programming that recall Nine Inch Nails’ visceral production, if they were covering a Prince hit. These songs capture the essence of 2024’s Karl D’Silva music; pure physicality
breaking down to reveal a shining, compassionate vulnerability.
The full breadth of Karl D’Silva’s instrumental prowess is in evidence from the off. On The Outside imagines blooming out of personal apocalypse with a soundscape of synth, saxophone worthy of any late 60s Free Jazz blower and crushing sound design. Entropy is planet-sized synth pop, Nowhere Left To Run uses midi-string orchestration to tell a story of light emerging from the dark. It’s a theme picked up
throughout the album: The Butcher is a political parable, the narrator holding power to account with grotesque, brutal imagery. It’s on a track
like Real Life that the true message emerges, however. D’Silva is peering through the layers of artifice, struggle and the fog of daily
living to find a life full of energy, connection and light. Each song here is a route into this light, out of the darkness.