Поиск:oblique

Fleeting configurations of piano, wind, strings, synthetics, and field recordings, inspired by the Greek isles.
Previous albums adored by the likes of The Quietus, Exclaim, Drowned In Sound, etc.
For fans of Angelo Badalamenti & David Lynch soundtracks, Bohren & Der Club Of Gore, and Global Communication.
While on the island of Syros in the Aegean Sea for a film festival performance, Christina Vantzou experienced what she characterized as “a moment of focus”—a specific vision for the sprawl of raw recordings she’d been amassing for her fifth album. Upon relocating to the Cycladic island of Ano Koufonisi, she situated herself outside at a patio table with a laptop and headphones, taking brief breaks to swim, and began the “reductive process” of shaving and shaping the source material into uneasy but lyrical movements, alternately austere and adorned with strange inflections: glottal groaning, cavernous water, glittering eddies of modular synth, languorous silences. Mixing the pieces herself without outsourcing to an engineer compounded the intimacy and autobiographical dimension of the music; she refers to No5 as “almost like a first album.”
Drawing on sessions staged in February 2020, Vantzou’s editing instincts emphasize process and isolation, spotlighting resonance and restraint, liquidity and long tails. Fleeting configurations of piano, wind, strings, synthetics, and field recordings, these are spaces as much as compositions, surreal grottos of shifting light, suffused with a sense of invisible divinity. Although seventeen musicians appear on the record, the proceedings feel minimalist and malleable, sculpted from interstitial moments and oblique synchronicities. The definition of a composer as “one who joins things” is here both plumbed and proven; Vantzou describes No5 as “a letting go,” a place of “soft borders,” unfixed and undefinable.

Futurismo are proud to present a deluxe remastered vinyl package of the classic 1980 album: Red Exposure by the uncompromising Chrome.

Arguably considered the San Francisco bands greatest work, Red Exposure, the fourth album to feature core members Damon Edge

and Helios Creed, was the definitive version of Chrome’s idiosyncratic approach to sound: a projected vision of near future dystopia via an undefinable guise of experimental space rock and punk-tinged alien soundscapes. Here, the band simultaneously draw from the otherworldly noises of their past records, whilst pushing their synthesizers forward into, albeit oblique, pop song structures.


Edge’s vocals are structured more like an instrument than a voice, lyrics painting images of humanities future on the edge of total destruction. As Creed’s guitar work multilayersit’s way into a completely different aural spectrum, beautiful yet violent, slashing against rhythmic pulsations, loops and experimentations, to create a sound that even today feels beyond the here and now. This distillation of the bands repertoire seemed to envision a deconstruction of rock ‘n’ roll, aimed to break past the shell of cliché that it would of course eventually come to inhabit. Which is why despite it’s age Red Exposure remains a record that still sounds like the sonic product of a far off civilisation, making this disk of new wave nihilism vital for fans of Space rock, Krautrock, Throbbing Gristle, Cabaret Voltaire and Suicide.

The deluxe remastered version of this out of print 1980 LP is presented here in ltd edition coloured vinyl. It comes packaged in a chromed mirrorboard sleeve, contains a large screen printed poster printed with neon ink featuring unseen photographs of the band, and a bonus track.

Moiré's rain-streaked and masterful Circuits album dropped this past September. RA's Andrew Ryce stated the eight-track album cast the shadowy producer into "a rarefied air occupied by the only the finest and most influential of ambient techno artists."

Now, in short order, the label returns with a remix EP charting out multiple hubs of oblique dance floor innovation. If there's a sonic motif on the A-side, it's vastly reactive interpretations of the "factory floor" element that inspired techno's pioneers. Matthew Herbert, a pioneering force in his own right, mixes steam engine percussion with the dreamy atmospherics of "Circuit 15" and comes up with eight minutes of cerebral machine funk. Tolouse Low Trax, meanwhile, continues his masterclass in modern motorik on his remix of "Circuit 7," integrating a chiming piano into a fascinating, perfectly-timed 110 BPM rhythm.

The B-side, meanwhile, doubles down on the oneiric nature of the original material. Workshop head and Avenue 66 alumnus Lowtec builds allows "Circuit 04"'s synths to billow into Gas-like immersive layering, sheets of melody are anchored by a restrained beat for an ambient techno track that doesn't tip the scales too far in one direction or the other. Rather, it achieves a perfect balance. Hamburg/Dial mainstay Lawrence closes things out with his version of "Circuit 18," which also concludes the original album. While the original has a wistful, Deckard's dream quality, Lawrence's version is deeply-rooted in the late-night German style; a low-slung bassline will keep dancers deeply rooted while those wistful chords sweep in like the violet before dawn.

'The Arbitrary Dimension of Dreams' is Cate Kennan's oblique exploration of memory, nighttime, and narrative. The resulting 12 compositions are brisk, evocative, and lingering. Kennan's sonic palette is vast yet harmonized, deftly matching spectral synthesizers to hazy lap steel guitars and watery analog effects. Existing in the sparsely occupied world of early melodic electronic music, her songs call to mind the sonic landscape's of Malcolm Cecil, Hans-Joachim Roedelius, and Deux Filles. Each individual track sculpts a setting, constructing an amorphous landscape of surreal musical vignettes. Picture a boat tied to a dock, bobbing with the waves, wisps of fog refusing the complete vision. This is the nebulous space of 'The Arbitrary Dimension of Dreams,' an enveloping, insistent realm that feels both intimately familiar and profoundly otherworldly.

Reflecting upon their new album Different Bridges, Nutrients discovered a
time capsule from the dullest days of the pandemic
The 10 hopeful songs manage to sonically sound as optimistic as their lyrics.
Unbeknownst to the band, they were composing an ode to the way life had once
been. Lyrically, Teeple subconsciously penned love letters to everything he had
taken for granted: parties, air travel, even just meeting new people. The band's
sun-drenched guitars continue to jingle and jangle on Different Bridges, yet this
time around, other ingredients are in the spotlight. Sean McKee's basslines
ecstatically bounce around on the album's title track opener, while Iulia Ciobanu's
ghostly harmonies and tense keys soar on the jazzy, lounge pop bop Nauseous.
Ben Fukuzawa's steady cadence and vivacious fills animate tracks like the spritely
closer, Kool Kat '22. Saxophone by guest Emily Steinwall shimmers alongside the
buoyant congas, bongos, and triangle added by percussionist Juan Carlos
Medrano. Still, guitar work on songs like the wordplay-adorned I and the nostalgic
House Fire Painting sturdily underpin Taylor Teeple and Will Hunter's smooth
songwriting. Compositionally, the band has freshened up forgotten cliches from
'70s soft rock and '80s new wave and incorporated them into a signature sound
listeners first discovered on their self- titled debut. Some of the more oblique
noodling may bring to mind bands like Steely Dan, while certain funk-lite grooves
evoke British pop groups like Orange Juice or Haircut 100. Contemporarily,
Different Bridges would likely find fans in listeners of fellow Canadians TOPS,
Video Age, or even Drugdealer. That optimism was perhaps a bit….well optimistic,
the band now recognizes. But they still believe that keeping a positive mindset is
key to creating music you can be proud of, and living a fulfilling life in general.

Jonathan Fitoussi & Julie Freyri are Model Alpha. 8 years on after their first album Dimensions, Perceptions is the duo's second album and was entirely composed on analog synthesizers.
Model Alpha is inspired by electronic artists such as Kraftwerk, Laurie Spiegel, Manuel Göttsching or early Detroit techno productions. An elegant blend of synthesizers and drum machines including remix by Chloé (Thévenin).

 The Orielles have created their first genuinely
contemporary record - an experimental double
album self-produced in collaboration with producer
Joel Anthony Patchett (King Krule, Tim Burgess).
 In doing so, The Orielles have utilised holistic jazz
practices, oblique 21st Century electronica,
experimental 1960s tape loop methods,
otherworldly Auto-Tuned vocal sounds, the downer
dub of Burial, Sonic Youth’s focus on improvisation
and feedback, and Brian Eno’s legendary Oblique
Strategy cards.

Thrill Jockey Records is proud to present Into This Juvenile Apocalypse Our Golden Blood to Pour Let Us Never, the third collaborative album by Japanese free music provocateur Keiji Haino and expressionist metal trio SUMAC. Into This Juvenile Apocalypse finds the quartet navigating the push-and-pull of creative interplay with bolder strides and stronger chemistry. Recorded on May 21, 2019 at the Astoria Hotel on Vancouver BC"s notorious East Hastings Street as a one-off performance during a short North American tour for Haino, the six compositions comprising Into This Juvenile Apocalypse showcase a musical unit bouncing unfiltered ideas off of one another, mining a trove of textures and timbres from their armory to buoy and bolster these living and breathing pieces. Like so many albums documenting free music, the thrill here is in the tight rope walk, the wavering moments of uncertainty and the ecstatic moments of shared brilliance. Japan"s fearless multi-instrumentalist and cultural provocateur Keiji Haino has made a career out of his free-form musical improvisations and diverse collaborations. Whether deconstructing American blues, to a few rogue notes hanging across chasms of empty space in his solo endeavors, sparring with the nebulous fringes of psychedelia in Fushitsusha, or teaming up with musicians like Faust, Boris, Jim O"Rourke, Stephen O"Malley, John Zorn, and Peter Brötzmann for fleeting aural experiments. Haino"s work is never pre-planned or structured, but rather a completely spontaneous exploration of chemistry, texture, and dynamics. SUMAC"s tenure is much younger than Haino"s, though guitarist-vocalist Aaron Turner has covered a similarly large swath of musical territory across numerous projects and collaborations. From the sedated drones of recent projects with Daniel Menche and William Fowler Collins, to the modern compositions of Mamiffer and all the way back to the restless evolutions of post-metal stalwarts ISIS. With his cohorts Nick Yacyshyn (Baptists, Erosion) on drums and Brian Cook (Russian Circles) on bass, Turner has dissolved the rigid forms of heavy music, searching for a balance between disciplined precision and unhinged musical barbarism, crafting music that vacillates between meticulously detailed instrumentation and uninhibited forays into oblique abstraction.

Thrill Jockey Records is proud to present Into This Juvenile Apocalypse Our Golden Blood to Pour Let Us Never, the third collaborative album by Japanese free music provocateur Keiji Haino and expressionist metal trio SUMAC. Into This Juvenile Apocalypse finds the quartet navigating the push-and-pull of creative interplay with bolder strides and stronger chemistry. Recorded on May 21, 2019 at the Astoria Hotel on Vancouver BC"s notorious East Hastings Street as a one-off performance during a short North American tour for Haino, the six compositions comprising Into This Juvenile Apocalypse showcase a musical unit bouncing unfiltered ideas off of one another, mining a trove of textures and timbres from their armory to buoy and bolster these living and breathing pieces. Like so many albums documenting free music, the thrill here is in the tight rope walk, the wavering moments of uncertainty and the ecstatic moments of shared brilliance. Japan"s fearless multi-instrumentalist and cultural provocateur Keiji Haino has made a career out of his free-form musical improvisations and diverse collaborations. Whether deconstructing American blues, to a few rogue notes hanging across chasms of empty space in his solo endeavors, sparring with the nebulous fringes of psychedelia in Fushitsusha, or teaming up with musicians like Faust, Boris, Jim O"Rourke, Stephen O"Malley, John Zorn, and Peter Brötzmann for fleeting aural experiments. Haino"s work is never pre-planned or structured, but rather a completely spontaneous exploration of chemistry, texture, and dynamics. SUMAC"s tenure is much younger than Haino"s, though guitarist-vocalist Aaron Turner has covered a similarly large swath of musical territory across numerous projects and collaborations. From the sedated drones of recent projects with Daniel Menche and William Fowler Collins, to the modern compositions of Mamiffer and all the way back to the restless evolutions of post-metal stalwarts ISIS. With his cohorts Nick Yacyshyn (Baptists, Erosion) on drums and Brian Cook (Russian Circles) on bass, Turner has dissolved the rigid forms of heavy music, searching for a balance between disciplined precision and unhinged musical barbarism, crafting music that vacillates between meticulously detailed instrumentation and uninhibited forays into oblique abstraction.

With a discography held in such high esteem amongst fans of conceptual French pop and soundtrack composition, the likelihood of finding an unturned stone amongst maestro Jean-Claude Vannier’s fertile psychedelic rockery falls somewhere between slim and skeletal. Even the most intrepid explorers of the most fearless and fastidious nature should naturally expect to encounter one or two shadowy characters when braving the oblique corners of the Vannier vault, but few lost souls cast a darker silhouette than the cinematic obscurity known only as La Bête Noire (The Black Beast).

Lost and presumed missing for decades the soundtrack tapes to this lesser-known 1983 French thriller (featuring a cast culled from films such as Alphaville, The Modern Couple and Sweet Movie) captures the revered composer and arranger of Serge Gainsbourg’s Histoire De Melody Nelson embarking on a darker exploration of free jazz, frenzied batucadas and cyclic carousel psychedelia. Counting key players of the French jazz scene within its ranks, The Insolitudes group comprises a crack team of Palm/Futura/Actuel/Saravah regulars such as saxophonist Philippe Mate´ (Acting Trio/Mate´-Vallancien/Tacet) alongside drummer Bernard Labat (Mad Ducks) and legendary Arpadys/Voyage rhythm masters Marc Chantereau and Pierre-Alain Dahan (Brutus Drums) all of whom alongside Michel Zanlonghi (Ensemble De Percussion De Paris) make up this thunderous, tumultuous, four-headed rhythm machine bridging an authentic gap between The Jef Gilson Groups and France’s signature “cosmic” revolution. Naturally these previously unheard compositions are spearheaded by lead pianist and composer Vannier and for devotee’s of his 1972 concept album L’Enfant Assassin Des Mouche there is much to admire and cross-reference herein.

Having been the most loyal and long-running guardians of Jean-Claude’s monster archive over the past two decades Finders Keepers Records are proud to present this first catch of newfound vintage Vannier discoveries on this limited and unlikely free jazz 45 single (which should find a perfect home between coveted Euro jazz 7”s by Krzysztof Komeda, Franc¸ois Tusques and Brussels Art Quintet). Almost 15 years since Finders Keepers once liberated the

Quandary is a work of electronic music that wants to balance between opposites - nature and technology, human agency and artificial thinking, ritual and machinery. That’s how quandaries emerge, as an impossible choice between two extremes. But music isn’t binary thinking and allows the exploration of obscure connections. Underground, a growing mycelium intersects and communicates with a fiber optic backbone: on the surface, the curtains open, and the quandary may begin to dissolve.

Produced in Berlin between 2019 and 2021, the album originates from open jams, which were then deconstructed through heavy editing - and finally recomposed, sometimes challenging the original spirit.

Bob Meanza's oblique approach to music production encompasses the creative textures of guitarist Alex Baboian, and is enriched by the vocal appearances of Bianca Guitton. A small orchestra of three that already implies roots in Germany, Italy, USA, Armenia and France - each musician carrying him/herself the «quandary» of having at least two homes. But again, this unexpected network can bring precious fruits to the surface.

Over the past decade, the mysterious, London-based artist Moiré has perfected a syrupy, addictive brand of dance music via labels like Actress's Werk Discs and illustrious imprints like Ghostly and Rush Hour. For most of this period, Moiré seemed pramarily concerned in creating alternative universe club tracks. The beats were hypnotic, if wonky. The pads were deep before they were refracted through an oblique filter. In a discography bearing a surfeit of leftfield high points, Circuits, Moiré's latest album for the Berlin-based Avenue 66 (Lowtec, John Frusciante, Joey Anderson) is a massive creative leap that fully breaks with the strictures of a "conventional" dance music.

While there are still nods to the low-slung, slow house style Moiré's perfected in the past ("Circuit 1"), as well as the looming shadow of hardcore ("Circuit 8), Moiré's style now billows into a liminal, cinematic zone that recalls the canonical SAW albums, BOC or even Seefeel's enduring, genre-free experiments. Rhythms come and go at all tempos, from Hauntological four-on-the-floor to flickering downtempo and ambient house approximations. But the emphasis lies with the melodies. From the queasy orchestral style of "Circuits 1" to the glacial, "end credits"-style synths that close out the album, these motifs bear an uncanny familiarity, as though they always existed. You recognize them, not from a previous listen, but rather, some half-remembered dream, or, perhaps, a previous lifetime.

Runhild Gammelsæter and Lasse Marhaug are two Norwegian musicians/sound artists. Both started in the early 1990s music underground and have worked in many constellations with a wide range of collaborators.

Despite knowing each other for a long time, Gammelsæter and Marhaug’s first collaborative work was the “Quantum Entanglement” LP in 2014. The album ignited a collective spark that both wanted to pursue further. Still, other commitments got in the way, and the project lay dormant until Stephen O’Malley, and Greg Anderson invited them to open for Sunn O))) for a special gig in the St. James Church of Culture in Oslo in the autumn of 2019. The two gathered for a long series of rehearsals, and after the successful performance, it was clear that it was time to start working on new compositions and recordings. That process initiated in late 2019 and continued to early 2021, encompassing before and after the world went through the lockdown. The result of this long development to be heard accumulated upon their new album “Higgs Boson” on Ideologic Organ Music.

Throughout the profound process of creating “Higgs Boson”, Gammelsæter and Marhaug drew inspiration from various subjects and artists. For Marhaug, it was concepts informed by the structuralist experimental cinema of Japanese directors Takashi Ito and Toshio Matsumoto, futurist worlds of French comic book artists Philippe Druillet and Jean Moebius Giraud, landscape photography of Fay Godwin, Kåre Kivijärvi, and Tamiko Nishimura, amongst others.

It became a metaphysical juxtaposition involving Gammelsaeter’s research and lyrical ideas based on several seemingly unrelated principles. A process of association inspired by “the Glass Bead Game” by Herman Hesse. The discovery of the Higgs Boson as a confirmation of the physical universe. The work of Ernst Schrödinger on the uncertainty principle. The four forces of physics. The Force. Helplessness under armed forces - as the war sailors in World War II. The influence of magic as expressed in tarot.

Gammelsæter experiments with a boundary involving the thresholds amongst various states of focus and legibility by forensic experimentation with techniques such as exclusive expression of consonants, syllabic repetition, retrograde text vocalisations and multi-lingual layering. Her vocal inspirational sources include Sidsel Endresen, Diamanda Galas, Natacha Atlas, the choral works of Rachmaninov, and the bands Carcass and Grave.

Two worlds coming together, making the music special. Mixing hard facts with science fiction helps create a kaleidoscopic cross point between the complex realities of the past and a possible future.

“Quantum Entanglement” featured two long-form pieces centred around a prepared piano and layered voice, while “Higgs Boson” developed a much more elaborate and ambitious compositional work. Across eight parts, the two artists brought a broad palette of instrumentation and sound. Electronic and acoustic, objects and field recordings, and pipe organ define the structures of which the centre is Gammelsæter’s magnificent voice. She has become known for her legendary voice, with her vast and unique range of inflective techniques and affective colour through her 30 years creating music. In the mix, Lasse approached the instrumental elements like landscapes, then Runhild’s vocals as characters that inhabit those worlds. Often, Gammelsæter multiple characters fused with the landscape. Make them occupy space, sometimes blend into it, sometimes dominate it. Constructing and setting visual guidelines helps set focus and open possibilities.

As an album, “Higgs Boson” is direct and focused, drawing on song structures. Within these tracks are vast strata of sound, an immersive multi-dimensional depth of music. Creating a feeling of depth while working with a flat two-channel stereo format - and how dimensions of texture and distortion can help develop the illusion of a space. The album structure is a story-like arc, a malleable subjective path, set as the album traverses oblique and suggestive areas, opening the concepts for the listener to unpack as they like.

– exclusive consultation with Gammelsæter & Marhaug, edited by Stephen O’Malley, June 2022

Jacob Long’s third Earthen Sea outing for Kranky, Ghost Poems, further refines his fragile, fractured palette into fluttering arrhythmias of dust, percussion, and yearning.
Composed during the first wave of lockdowns in New York, the pieces took shape patiently from samples of piano, texture, and domestic sounds (sink splashing, room tone, clinking objects), filtered through live FX to imbue them with an intuitive, immaterial feel. Wisps of melody splinter, shimmer, and refract, like light on water; pulses accrue and dissipate, as if mapping shifting sands. Throughout, there’s a sense of matter made animate, of absences felt.
Long cites notions of “the studio as a dub instrument” and the melancholy of “7th chords on a fake Rhodes patch” as central elements in his process, transforming raw materials into rare thresholds of symbiosis and hypnosis. This is music for night skies in hollowed out cities, for views across rivers towards unknown shores: restless, placeless, and profound.
track listing:1. Shiny Nowhere 2. Stolen Time 3. Felt Absence 4. Oblique Ruins 5. Snowy Water 6. Rough Air 7. Slate Horizon 8. Ochre Sky 9. Fossil Painting 10. Deep Sky
press quotes for previous album Grass and Trees:
“Jacob Long’s vaporous, lo-fi ambient tracks feel like snapshots of stillness made of moving parts.” Pitchfork
“As light as a warm breeze on skin, Earthen Sea’s latest album for Kranky showcases Jacob Long’s natural sensitivity for low-key, enchanting electronic sound craft.” Boomkat
“It’s exciting to hear such a significant change in his sound without sacrificing a personal touch and sonic character.” Igloo

Cabaret Voltaire co-founder Stephen Mallinder's second solo outing for Dais further distills his signature fusion of minimal synth, oblique wordplay, and "wonky disco" into a riveting rhythm suite ripe for our Age of Escalation: Tick Tick Tick. Channeling the temporal malaise of lockdown through a lusher palette of modular electronics and stereo strings, the songs embrace ambiguity and plasticity, loose systems of percolating circuitry and airless funk. Recorded across a handful of sessions at Meme Tune Studios in Cornwall with frequent collaborator Benge (aka Ben Edwards), Mallinder cites no guiding aesthetic premise for the collection beyond "cowbell on every track, and entirely no reverb." From the first coiled cybernetic groove of opener "Contact," the album's spatial dynamics are disorienting and asymmetrical, alternately cold and sensual, opiated and claustrophobic. But, throughout, "rhythm is the default, the bedrock, the building block-even the melodies are rhythmic." Across 40-plus years of electronic musicianship, Mallinder's sense of timing and tempo has honed into a rare tier of mastery, limber and fluid but knotted with strange frictions. Shades of Detroit technoid industrial ("ringdropp," "Shock To The Body") crossfade into now avy punk-funk ("Guernica Gallery," "Galaxy," "The Trial"), bad trip IDM ("Wasteland"), and jittery vapor house ("Hush"), at the threshold of modes both familiar and foreign. Lyrically the record is equally evasive, rich with allusions and associative linguistics, surveying liquid notions of societal noise, ecological ruin, art world pretension, and the trials of daily life. But the lack of fixed meaning remains Mallinder's main muse: "Music should draw you in; lyrics should make you think. Most interpretation is misinterpretation." This is music of countdowns and comedowns, fleeting pleasures and opaque futures, observing the great decline while dancing on its ashes. Flux is deathless and forever; the rest, illusion: "I will be a constant figure / Flickering a moving picture / Turning in your head forever / Split apart but held together."

Cabaret Voltaire co-founder Stephen Mallinder's second solo outing for Dais further distills his signature fusion of minimal synth, oblique wordplay, and "wonky disco" into a riveting rhythm suite ripe for our Age of Escalation: Tick Tick Tick. Channeling the temporal malaise of lockdown through a lusher palette of modular electronics and stereo strings, the songs embrace ambiguity and plasticity, loose systems of percolating circuitry and airless funk. Recorded across a handful of sessions at Meme Tune Studios in Cornwall with frequent collaborator Benge (aka Ben Edwards), Mallinder cites no guiding aesthetic premise for the collection beyond "cowbell on every track, and entirely no reverb." From the first coiled cybernetic groove of opener "Contact," the album's spatial dynamics are disorienting and asymmetrical, alternately cold and sensual, opiated and claustrophobic. But, throughout, "rhythm is the default, the bedrock, the building block-even the melodies are rhythmic." Across 40-plus years of electronic musicianship, Mallinder's sense of timing and tempo has honed into a rare tier of mastery, limber and fluid but knotted with strange frictions. Shades of Detroit technoid industrial ("ringdropp," "Shock To The Body") crossfade into now avy punk-funk ("Guernica Gallery," "Galaxy," "The Trial"), bad trip IDM ("Wasteland"), and jittery vapor house ("Hush"), at the threshold of modes both familiar and foreign. Lyrically the record is equally evasive, rich with allusions and associative linguistics, surveying liquid notions of societal noise, ecological ruin, art world pretension, and the trials of daily life. But the lack of fixed meaning remains Mallinder's main muse: "Music should draw you in; lyrics should make you think. Most interpretation is misinterpretation." This is music of countdowns and comedowns, fleeting pleasures and opaque futures, observing the great decline while dancing on its ashes. Flux is deathless and forever; the rest, illusion: "I will be a constant figure / Flickering a moving picture / Turning in your head forever / Split apart but held together."

REMASTERED

Grönland Records announce a revised, remastered reissue of “Sleepwalkers” by DAVID SYLVIAN. Available as a gatefold 2LP with exclusive art print and as a gatefold digipack CD, this new edition also features the previously unreleased track “Modern Interiors”.

in the 00s, DAVID SYLVIAN produced two of his strongest and most solitary statements, BLEMISH and MANAFON. but those records don’t tell the whole story. during that the same period, SYLVIAN created an alternate body of work: a series of collaborations and side projects with leading talents of pop and improv, electronic and contemporary classical music. the best of these recordings are gathered here on SLEEPWALKERS, meticulously sequenced and remixed: the fruits of one-off meetings and lifelong partnerships, they jump from bliss to intrigue, romance to sensuality, as arch experiments lead into the lushest pop.

the single ‘world citizen – i won’t be disappointed,’ written with RYUICHI SAKAMOTO, is a sublime example, with an impeccable melody and lyric warmed by SYLVIAN’S gorgeous tenor. SYLVIAN has worked with SAKAMOTO for close to three decades. by contrast, on ‘pure genius,’ a collaboration with CHRIS VRENNA aka tweaker, he sounds like he’s walked into a heist flick, singing the part of a delusional, dangerous bedroom genius. as sylvian explains, tracks like this ‘give me a chance to write in a way that’s completely non-personal, playful. it’s an exercise of some kind, working within the parameters of a given assignment.’

intrigue of a different kind drives ‘sugarfuel,’ with music by JEAN-PHILIPPE VERDIN, aka READYMADE FC. the lyrics offered ‘an opportunity to grapple with a more overt sexual theme than anything i’d previously attempted, as suggested by a vocal sample in the original track provided, a threateningly insistent ‘i’m on your side.’ so i took that as my point of entry and ran with it. i would love to write more on this subject should i find the right context. you’re always aware of walking a thin line exploring sexuality with language alone. the failings of the great and the good are strewn all around.’

NINE HORSES’ ‘wonderful world’ strolls in on a black tie bassline and the echoing coos of swedish chanteuse STINA NORDENSTAM, whose high chirps brush hands with SYLVIAN’S lead; there’s the blistering ‘money for all’ by FRIEDMAN and SYLVIAN, an oblique response to the fallout of 9/11 and the war on iraq. this is followed by the last known recording of SYLVIAN’S singing voice in over a decade, ‘do you know me now?’, a live studio recording later augmented by JAN BANG, EIVIND AARSET and ERIK HONORÉ. it’s certainly a title that’s become more relevant over time as SYLVIAN, in the latter stages of his career, repeatedly comes face to face with a new generation of admirers fixated on the life and times of the band formed by his younger self. SYLVIAN is one of only a handful of musicians to have successfully moved on from overt pop beginnings into a domain all his own but is consistently plagued by the misguided desires or expectations of some unfamiliar with his evolution to do a u-turn, pick up where he left off in the late 90s. although this compilation, as well as his writing for NINE HORSES, adequately shows SYLVIAN’S traditional love of melody is
intact, that it’s consistently remained part of his output, there’s no denying his focus has shifted, evolved.
the refusal to embrace complacency, the need to cover new ground ‘as older generations of popular musicians have a moral duty to explore despite, or because of, the greater possibility of failure’ will, i believe, lead to a reassessment of his later work that embraces a sightly more complex relationship with what we’re referring to as ‘melodic’, accompanied by an exploration of improvisation without dogma or beholden to any ‘givens’ for which he’s not infrequently been castigated. for SYLVIAN, there are no such boundaries. it’s obvious that different facets of his work co-exist without conflict but not necessarily for the majority of his audience. again, this places SYLVIAN in the odd, rare, unenviable(?) position of moving forwards leaving many in his devoted audience behind as, should he decide to return to music, it’s unlikely he’ll be aiming to placate an audience in love with work that preceded the 00s. in fact we’ve no idea where new work, should it surface, may lead.

SLEEPWALKERS also spotlights the innovators who contributed to MANAFON and BLEMISH. CHRISTIAN FENNESZ hangs a crackling, shimmering curtain behind the vocal on ‘transit,’ matching his signature mass of sui generis sounds to sylvian’s stately performance. and the title track began with an instrumental handed to SYLVIAN by MARTIN BRANDLMAYR of POLWECHSEL, soon after the first recording session for MANAFON. spite crackles in the gaps between the percussion, and onkyo artists TOSHIMARU NAKAMURA and SACHIKO M set the stage for the scathing lyrics in the chorus.

it cuts close to the bone and so do the two spoken word cuts, ‘angel’ and ‘thermal,’ produced by SAMADHISOUND recording artists JAN BANG and ERIK HONORÉ (and featuring ARVE HENRIKSEN on trumpet). SYLVIAN describes the latter work as a ‘love poem’ to his daughter. ‘‘thermal’ reflects on a period when our time in sonoma, ca was coming to an end. we’d stayed in temporary accommodation which had lulled us into a false sense of security. we had pear, apple, lemon, and figs trees growing in the yard. a small but exotic paradise. a cocoon. but the cracks were beginning to show in the relationship between ex-wife INGRID CHAVEZ and i which is where i think this underlying sense of anxiety, which runs throughout the poem, is derived from, coupled with the need to provide physical and spiritual stability to the children, the youngest of whom was just under two at the time. the poem is addressed to her. our world was dissipating, coming apart at the seams, but we were an island unto ourselves.’

‘five lines’ marked the start of a new partnership with acclaimed young composer DAI FUJIKURA, who at the time of recording was also working on remixes of MANAFON for what became DIED IN THE WOOL. the string quartet was performed by the celebrated ICE ENSEMBLE and written for SYLVIAN, who FUJIKURA cites as an early influence. says SYLVIAN, ‘the composition moves through numerous changes in time signature but as i had no knowledge of what these were i just relied on my gut instinct, and responded, as i always do, with what felt right to me, composing an entirely new melody in the process. some months later i was working in a studio in london and dai dropped by. i rather tentatively asked if he’d like to hear a rough mix of the song as it stood, painfully aware that my contribution might make no sense to him at all but, to my relief he loved the result.’

there’s one further new addition to this collection, the first official release of a track composed in response to the tsunami in fukushma, ‘modern interiors’, featuring SYLVIAN once again in collaboration with BANG and AARSET.

like 2000s EVERYTHING AND NOTHING, SLEEPWALKERS is a retrospective of a particular decade when SYLVIAN was free of major label interference and could follow his own instincts without having to explaining himself – but it’s also an eye-opening complement to his solo releases. as SYLVIAN explains, ‘some collaborations seem to be a one-off exchange but you can never be too certain of that fact. others have been long term. in this respect, RYUICHI comes to mind. there’s others with whom you hope to continue working as you feel you’ve barely scratched the surface. other times offers come out of the blue, welcome, inspired. regardless, it’s wonderfully explorative to have so many possibilities to juggle with. each collaboration seems timely. it’s as if there’s a rightness to the exchange at a given moment in time.’

in the meantime, we hope you enjoy the work presented here, personally selected, remixed and sequenced and entirely remastered. these are the orphans, abused, estranged, exotic, migrating from diverse corners of the globe, brought together under one roof which they're learning to share despite their differences.

‘as many of you will already be aware, despite relatively continuous work on solo albums, i’ve maintained strong ties with a number of musicians throughout my life in one context or another. on this new collection, let’s call it SLEEPWALKERS 2.0, a selection of collaborative work produced over the period encompassing blemish through to manafon, i’ve included compositions by nine horses as well as more fleeting flirtations and one-offs. neglected offspring. represented also is long term friend and writing partner, RYUICHI SAKAMOTO, as well as more recent but potentially equally productive partnerships such as CHRISTIAN FENNESZ, ARVE HENRIKSEN and contemporary classical composer DAI FUJIKURA.
i hope you enjoy the work presented here, personally selected, remixed and sequenced and entirely remastered. these are the orphans, abused, estranged, exotic, migrating from diverse corners of the globe, brought together under one roof which they're learning to share despite their differences.

we contain multitudes. we’re nothing if not contradictory.’

DAVID SYLVIAN, 2010

(consistency is contrary to nature, contrary to life: aldous huxley)

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

While Bauhaus have been waiting to continue their reunion shows, founding member David J has been trawling through his archive of tapes and diaries from the early 80s in coll;aboration with sound sculptor Tim Newman to present two volumes of unique spoken word and songs, including a vocal contribution from Black Francis of The Pixies and guitar overdubs by Warren Defever of His Name Is Alive and Adrian Utley of Portishead. Sleeve notes by Andrew Brroksbank of the Bauhaus Archive.

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."

- First vinyl reissue, available on LP for the first time in 20 years - Completely remastered audio and restored artwork - Side D lunar vinyl etching art // After leaving London in 1999 for the sleepy seaside retiree town of Weston-super-Mare, Coil co-founders John Balance and Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson set up shop in a palatial eight-bedroom estate to pursue the outer reaches of the group's heightening cabalistic chemistry. Among the staggering string of late-era masterpieces they produced is lunar opus Musick To Play In The Dark, widely hailed as an artistic zenith upon its release. The sessions that birthed it were in fact so fruitful that a second LP took shape during the creation of the first one. Aided by the recent addition of Welsh multi-instrumentalist engineer Thighpaulsandra, Coil mined further into the recesses of surrealist eldritch electronica Balance termed "moon music" - post-industrial spellcasting at the axis of narcotic and nocturnal energies. Musick To Play In The Dark² spans a full witching hour of bad acid sound design, synthesizer voyaging, opiated balladry, Luciferian glitch, and subliminal hymnals, alternately ominous, oracular, and absurd. Scottish gothic icon Rose McDowall guests on vocals for two tracks but otherwise the album is a hermetic affair, tapping into the group's limitless insular synergy. Opener "Something" is stark and incantational, a spoken word experiment for windswept voids. "Tiny Golden Books" unspools an aerial whirlpool of cosmic synth, both whispery and widescreen. "Ether" is an exercise in funeral procession piano and intoxicated wordplay ("It's either ether or the other"), while "Where Are You?" and "Batwings - A Liminal Hymn" lurk like liturgical murmurings heard on one's death bed, framed in granular FX and flickering candlelight. As a whole the collection skews more muted and remote than its predecessor, as if having grown accustomed to the nether regions of these darkening seances. But music box hallucination "Paranoid Inlay" captures the group's oblique comedic side, always glimmering beneath: over a warped, wobbly beat Balance intones an opaque narrative of serenity, Saint Peter, and suicidal vegetables, accompanied by spiraling harpsichord and stuttering squelches of electronics. "It seems concussion suits you," he repeats twice, like a macabre pickup line, before dictating a dear diary entry about risks and failures, finally concluding with as close to a self-portrait as Coil ever came: "On a clear day I can see forever / that the underworld is my oyster."

- First vinyl reissue, available on LP for the first time in 20 years - Completely remastered audio and restored artwork - Side D lunar vinyl etching art // After leaving London in 1999 for the sleepy seaside retiree town of Weston-super-Mare, Coil co-founders John Balance and Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson set up shop in a palatial eight-bedroom estate to pursue the outer reaches of the group's heightening cabalistic chemistry. Among the staggering string of late-era masterpieces they produced is lunar opus Musick To Play In The Dark, widely hailed as an artistic zenith upon its release. The sessions that birthed it were in fact so fruitful that a second LP took shape during the creation of the first one. Aided by the recent addition of Welsh multi-instrumentalist engineer Thighpaulsandra, Coil mined further into the recesses of surrealist eldritch electronica Balance termed "moon music" - post-industrial spellcasting at the axis of narcotic and nocturnal energies. Musick To Play In The Dark² spans a full witching hour of bad acid sound design, synthesizer voyaging, opiated balladry, Luciferian glitch, and subliminal hymnals, alternately ominous, oracular, and absurd. Scottish gothic icon Rose McDowall guests on vocals for two tracks but otherwise the album is a hermetic affair, tapping into the group's limitless insular synergy. Opener "Something" is stark and incantational, a spoken word experiment for windswept voids. "Tiny Golden Books" unspools an aerial whirlpool of cosmic synth, both whispery and widescreen. "Ether" is an exercise in funeral procession piano and intoxicated wordplay ("It's either ether or the other"), while "Where Are You?" and "Batwings - A Liminal Hymn" lurk like liturgical murmurings heard on one's death bed, framed in granular FX and flickering candlelight. As a whole the collection skews more muted and remote than its predecessor, as if having grown accustomed to the nether regions of these darkening seances. But music box hallucination "Paranoid Inlay" captures the group's oblique comedic side, always glimmering beneath: over a warped, wobbly beat Balance intones an opaque narrative of serenity, Saint Peter, and suicidal vegetables, accompanied by spiraling harpsichord and stuttering squelches of electronics. "It seems concussion suits you," he repeats twice, like a macabre pickup line, before dictating a dear diary entry about risks and failures, finally concluding with as close to a self-portrait as Coil ever came: "On a clear day I can see forever / that the underworld is my oyster."

- First vinyl reissue, available on LP for the first time in 20 years - Completely remastered audio and restored artwork - Side D lunar vinyl etching art // After leaving London in 1999 for the sleepy seaside retiree town of Weston-super-Mare, Coil co-founders John Balance and Peter "Sleazy" Christopherson set up shop in a palatial eight-bedroom estate to pursue the outer reaches of the group's heightening cabalistic chemistry. Among the staggering string of late-era masterpieces they produced is lunar opus Musick To Play In The Dark, widely hailed as an artistic zenith upon its release. The sessions that birthed it were in fact so fruitful that a second LP took shape during the creation of the first one. Aided by the recent addition of Welsh multi-instrumentalist engineer Thighpaulsandra, Coil mined further into the recesses of surrealist eldritch electronica Balance termed "moon music" - post-industrial spellcasting at the axis of narcotic and nocturnal energies. Musick To Play In The Dark² spans a full witching hour of bad acid sound design, synthesizer voyaging, opiated balladry, Luciferian glitch, and subliminal hymnals, alternately ominous, oracular, and absurd. Scottish gothic icon Rose McDowall guests on vocals for two tracks but otherwise the album is a hermetic affair, tapping into the group's limitless insular synergy. Opener "Something" is stark and incantational, a spoken word experiment for windswept voids. "Tiny Golden Books" unspools an aerial whirlpool of cosmic synth, both whispery and widescreen. "Ether" is an exercise in funeral procession piano and intoxicated wordplay ("It's either ether or the other"), while "Where Are You?" and "Batwings - A Liminal Hymn" lurk like liturgical murmurings heard on one's death bed, framed in granular FX and flickering candlelight. As a whole the collection skews more muted and remote than its predecessor, as if having grown accustomed to the nether regions of these darkening seances. But music box hallucination "Paranoid Inlay" captures the group's oblique comedic side, always glimmering beneath: over a warped, wobbly beat Balance intones an opaque narrative of serenity, Saint Peter, and suicidal vegetables, accompanied by spiraling harpsichord and stuttering squelches of electronics. "It seems concussion suits you," he repeats twice, like a macabre pickup line, before dictating a dear diary entry about risks and failures, finally concluding with as close to a self-portrait as Coil ever came: "On a clear day I can see forever / that the underworld is my oyster."

Scott Walker, PJ Harvey, Coil, Matmos, Autechre & Pan Daijing. 180g LP with inner, 12”x24”poster + DL card. The Debut Full-Length By Montréal Producer Kee Avil, The Project Led By Avant/Improv Guitarist Vicky Mettler, Also Known As A Member Of Sam Shalabi’s Land Of Kush And As Co-Founder Of Concrete Sound Montréal. Advance Single “See, My Shadow” Premiered By Mary Ann Hobbs On BBC6 And Picked Up By Music & Riots, Backseat Mafia, Aural Aggravation, Etc In Dec 2021. Kee Avil, a project led by Montréal producer and guitarist Vicky Mettler: a singular expression of fractured dream logic concretized in chiselled postpunk guitar, sinuous low-end electronics, a panoply of organic and digital samples creating alternately twitchy and propulsive rhythm, and the anxious intimacy of her finely wrought lyricism and vocals. Bound by an outstanding production sensibility throughout, Crease unfolds one oblique earworm hook after another, with compositional innovation anchored to an inscrutable and compelling voice across 10 songs of tremendous and imaginative sonic detail. Kee Avil brings a contemporary electroacoustic sensibility to bear on traditions and conventions of pop, postpunk, electronic and sound-art songwriting, where touchstones range from Scott Walker and Coil to Fiona Apple, (early) PJ Harvey and (later) Juana Molina to Eartheater, Pan Daijing and Smerz; or Grouper produced by Autechre. Her unconventional alloys also conjure the guitar-inflected deconstructions of Gastr del Sol and the crystalline micro-worlds of Bjork, Matmos and Rashad Becker. Crease is one of those debut records that excites a wide range of peerless references precisely because it's so compelling in its own idiosyncratic authority, originality and execution. Each song on Crease is its own sculpture, meticulously assembled to resemble disassembly: “each of these worlds was built without consideration for the other; it felt impossible to me, once I would enter the atmosphere of a song, to try to start another until that idea was finished.” The album nonetheless unfolds in impressive holistic integration through a palette of textures and techniques deployed in recurring but continually refracted ways. Alongside her superb austere guitar work stitched into electro-industrial, dark-ambient and minimal-techno soundworlds, it’s her voice and lyrics confidential, hermetic, implacable that provide the galvanizing, always captivating through-line. Her more compositional, exacting, (de)constructed musical identity was first unveiled with the self-titled Kee Avil EP (Black Bough Records) and further honed by pre-pandemic tours sharing stages with Pere Ubu, Marc Ribot and Bill Orcut among others. Woodshedding since then, Crease presents a quantum leap in Kee Avil's exploration of studio-based experimentation, arrangement and production, signaling the arrival of a brilliantly genre-melding, refined and assiduous new voice in avant-garde songcraft.

Hypernatural, comprises of Dan Whitford, better known as one of the pillars of Melbourne heavyweights Cut Copy, Mirko Vogel, the engineer extraordinaire who has recorded for Modular and Room40, and Mike Gamwell, also known as Knightlife, who’s racked up several releases on Cut Copy’s own Cutters Records. You could say their roots are in Melbourne, Australia, but it seems unfair to pinpoint the trio to any specific location.

That’s because their sound lies somewhere deep in misty forests, or half-remembered dreams and subconscious wells of ancestral emotion. The transformative power of these 7 tracks was no accident however. The music was pieced together during two trips - one to the remote Swedish coast and another to the Scottish highlands. The three producers used a set of guidelines that allowed each of them to compose and arrange tracks separately yet collectively, like a connected Oblique Strategy. They took inspiration from the stark beauty of their natural surroundings, which had a huge effect on the music they were making.

The resulting tracks inhabit a world of their own, full of shimmering arpeggios and drifting pads, taut drums and sound effects. The opening track Longboat cruises into view with white noise washes and galley master rhythms, conjuring Old Norse battleships and a sense of sailing the open sea, destination unknown. The single Stormfront is a depth-charged deep house burner, bristling with atmospheric energy and rolling like thunder. With its cascading synth arpeggios and weighty drops, it swells like moody clouds on the horizon and releases tension like the first rain of a summer storm.

Hypernatural particularly succeeds in its world-building, and there’s a cohesion to the tracks despite their many differences in tempo and style. Spirit Walk joins marimbas with modular pulses, as well as slide guitar and snappy shakers, to bring out some Ry Cooder swagger. Unknown Caller taps into the phone line at the speed of 5G, sending breakbeats down the wire on a cold calling mission to recruit ravers for the next after hours. But there are also tracks nodding to blissed-out comedowns and daydreams. Both Changing Tides and New Dawn slow down time to an introspective moment, a catch of the breath, the witness to a beautiful moment. Album closer Valley harks back to classic rave-era ambient, an avalanche of optimism down a majestic mountainside.

Hypernatural evokes panoramic vistas and serene countryside, and you could certainly imagine it soundtracking a hike along coastal hills, or a field at a festival. But it also resides beyond the pastoral, finding a home in airport departure lounges and autobahn service stations, until it eventually settles down inside us - even without the headphones on.

Stormfront
Hypernatural’s single Stormfront is a depth-charged house-tempo burner, bristling with atmospheric energy and rolling like thunder. With its cascading synth arpeggios, raindance incantation and weighty drops, it swells like moody clouds on the horizon, and releases tension like the first rain of a summer storm.

Lennert Jacobs' music is an echo of his imagination, inevitably reflecting and reinforcing a natural philosophy of enlightenment. L. Jacobs employs modern and classical instruments to enhance and distill a spirit of humanity through his aesthetic currency of sound.
Surveying his debut album ‘Enthusiasm’ and its instinctive impulses delivers a sublime sonic experience. Specifics of musical styles fade obliquely in service of resonance on a deeper level—sound speaking on a universal language with innately humorous wonkiness whirling you into a state of pure delight.

Kaleidoscopic keyboards shape a celebration of freedom and spontaneity. With warped beats, the songs clatter in crafted structures to create obscure alternative atmospheres. ‘Enthusiasm’ is a sonic lens that lands right from the first moment you hear it, a showcase of musical talent and intuitive expression.

Lennert Jacobs does an excellent job of investing and producing mainly instrumental compositions which manage to touch on a wide variety of emotions over the course of their unfolding. The works on ‘Enthusiasm’ are synthetic creatures, living and growing autonomously. The duality of the composer is on full holistic display: the lighter side—relaxing, ethereal, and dreamy, and the darker—disturbing and uncanny. This is a sonic transportation and cerebral massage. Stick a needle in it to activate.

East Coast minimal wave institution Xeno & Oaklander’s seventh full-length further distills their iconic noir synth pop into a streamlined suite of gleaming, graceful retrofuturism. Inspired by ideas of synesthesia, scent, star worship, and obsolescent technologies, the duo of Liz Wendelbo and Sean McBride began conceiving the blueprint of Vi/deo while sequestered at their Southern Connecticut home studio during the pandemic. The context of isolation, streaming, and remote dreaming seeped into their chemistry, manifesting as both homage to and meditation on a certain cinematic strain of technicolor fantasy: the screen as stage, distance disguised as intimacy, where tragedy and glamor crossfade into one.



Opening with the precision synthetic melancholy of “Infinite Sadness,” the album marks a peak fluidity between the pair’s fusion of analog electronics and poetic melody, both refined and oblique, classic but contemporary. Wendelbo modeled her singing on “a young boy in a choir,” alternately holding notes and whispering them, with the lyrics clear, the voice elevated. McBride’s synthesizers serve as the perfect counterpart, tiered and polished, threading fluorescent architectures of a lost audio-visual age. Theirs is a... more

Tape

Marc Romboy presents his upcoming album "Voyage de la planète' his first solo full-length production in over eight years. Released on his newly launched Hyperharmonic label, Voyage de la Plantète signifies an exciting new chapter for Marc as he experiments with his sound - pushing the boundaries between classical and electronic music to create both an emotional and atmospheric experience.
The first impression of this new sound can be heard on album opener forerunner 10" "Monde futuriste" (February 17th 2017) which blends together beautiful strings and soft flittering synths. "Jules Verne" named after the French science fiction writer, combines echoing arpeggios and a subtle woodwind harmony to create a cosmic soundscape. Whilst "Atome de danse", "Symphonie oblique" and "La machine du temps" use elegant strings to further enhance an unearthly effect, title track "Voyage de la planète" mixes the two mediums together with fluttering synths and somber strings before "La lune et l'étolie" builds introduces the bustling sound of the piano to create an upbeat melody.
Whilst there is a strong classical influence, there are tracks on the album that reference Marc's electronic background. This can be heard in

"L'univers étrange", which has an ambient sound, whilst pitched-down chords take "L'universe parallèle" to a dark and moody space.
"Phénix" is a bass-driven track, layered with crashing synths, taking the journey to a high before the celestial experience draws to a close on an uplifting note with "Nocturne" a laid-back soothing track that exudes optimism and wonderment.
Inspired by a concert with the Dortmund Philharmonic Orchestra where he performed Claude Debussy works in a contemporary way, "Voyage de la planète' signifies the start of a new chapter for Marc Romboy. Combining the strange, fascinating sounds of electronic music with the sublime beauty of classical music to create an extraordinary sonic experience for the listener.

Hey!Tonal was the first album by Hey!Tonal, a project helmed by the
guitarists, multi-instrumentalists and sound designers Mitch Cheney
(Rumah Sakit, Sweep the Leg Johnny) and Alan Mills (Chiisai-oto).
Released in 2009 French label Africantape on CD only it has now been remastered by Carl Saff and pressed to vinyl for the first time. 2LP white vinyl, gatefold sleeve with poster and aluminium outer sleeve.
Cheney initially conceived it as a project to be named “Drummers’ Perspectives”, and that working title sums up its ethos. He became inspired to write
melodies based on the drumbeat being the starting point of the composition.
A fortunate meeting with Alan Mills meant collaborator was now involved with
this rhythmic and melodic building blocks.
The basic concept for their compositional process stemmed from Cheney’s experience with television editing.
They manipulated all the catalogued sounds as if they were visual elements.
The result of this unusual approach is a striking record, full of delicate incongruities hidden in the music; happy accidents were meticulously given purpose
during mixing, malleable drums and guitars intertwined with a myriad of improvised and shaped sounds.
The overall impression is of some oblique explanation to an unsolved mystery
and should be manna from heaven to anyone who dug the first Battles EP’s.

Contemporary and historical Porest recordings channelled from behind the somnambulistic event horizon. The now sound... The bleak oblique. The minimal and the maximal. Filmic chamber drones, meditative radio massage and forged spiritual violence bury pop ephemera into the swirling murk of de facto instrumental nihilism and orchestral context-free drama.
Side A: A harmful journey into sickness and despair. You get sick and die.
Side B: You are healed. You stand erect and live forever.
Layered field and radio recordings back electro-acoustic experiments via electric saz, strings, balypso, reeds & synths. Big drones, small ensembles and mood-anthems recorded by Porest and friends between 1995 and 2020 in West Oakland, Germany, Sumatra, Syria, Hanoi and London.

Cult jazz soundtrack to supernatural Soho
strangler epic ‘Der Wurger Vom Tower’ by Swiss
electronic pioneer Bruno Spoerri that has been
locked away since 1966.
 Translated as ‘The Strangler In The Tower’, this
lesser-known thriller possibly stretched the
imaginations of cinematic crime buffs beyond the
genre’s parameters before disappearing into
obscurity.
 Liberated from Bruno Spoerri’s meticulous master
tape vault this, his first-ever feature-length
soundtrack commission, can finally take its place
alongside other recently resuscitated oblique jazz
scores by the likes of Basil Kirchin, Krzysztof
Komeda (Cul-De-Sac), Roger Webb and Jonny
Scott.
 The real sacred jewel in Bruno Spoerri’s crown as
the leader and pioneer of Switzerland’s electronic
underground (not to mention sample source
amongst rap royalty) and a mysterious monarchial
figure in European jazz and music technology

Manchester UK's Space Afrika make music of what they term "overlapping moments" - oblique mosaics of dialogue, rhythm, texture, and shadow, half-heard through a bus window on a rainy night. Honest Labour, the group's first full-length since 2020's landmark hybtwibt? (have you been through what i've been through?) mixtape, expands the project's palette with classical strings, shimmering guitar, and visionary vocal cameos, leaning further into their enigmatic fusion of ambient unrest and cosmic downtempo. It's a sound both fogged and fragmented, at the axis of song craft and sound design, born from and for the yearning solitudes of life under lockdown. The album title is tiered, alluding to a legendary patriarch from co-founder Joshua Inyang's Nigerian family tree (who was lovingly called "Honest Labour" for his loyalty and resilience) as well as the nature of self-designated work, such as Space Afrika's music - a "labor of love" in its truest sense. With fellow co-founder Joshua Reid recently relocated to Berlin, the pair began sharing files last fall, piecing together poetic vignettes of looping haze and found sound, inspired by the notion of "records that leave an impression, and help the listener deal with their life." As the isolation of Covid compounded with the worsening winter, the songs skewed increasingly introspective and emotive, reflecting a mood of dissipating futures and the infinite nocturnal unknown. The artists cite two core motivations for Honest Labour: to transcend the sum of their influences, and "to show what we're capable of." Both ambitions are entirely realized. The collection's 19 tracks flow with a synergy and sophistication as rare as they are radical, untethered to the dusty dub-techno templates of Space Afrika's early years. These are interstitial anthems, expressionistic and open-ended, delirious but deliberate, attuned to the drift and dreamstate of the present moment: "Ultimately this is an homage to U.K. energy, and an album about love and loss."

Manchester UK's Space Afrika make music of what they term "overlapping moments" - oblique mosaics of dialogue, rhythm, texture, and shadow, half-heard through a bus window on a rainy night. Honest Labour, the group's first full-length since 2020's landmark hybtwibt? (have you been through what i've been through?) mixtape, expands the project's palette with classical strings, shimmering guitar, and visionary vocal cameos, leaning further into their enigmatic fusion of ambient unrest and cosmic downtempo. It's a sound both fogged and fragmented, at the axis of song craft and sound design, born from and for the yearning solitudes of life under lockdown. The album title is tiered, alluding to a legendary patriarch from co-founder Joshua Inyang's Nigerian family tree (who was lovingly called "Honest Labour" for his loyalty and resilience) as well as the nature of self-designated work, such as Space Afrika's music - a "labor of love" in its truest sense. With fellow co-founder Joshua Reid recently relocated to Berlin, the pair began sharing files last fall, piecing together poetic vignettes of looping haze and found sound, inspired by the notion of "records that leave an impression, and help the listener deal with their life." As the isolation of Covid compounded with the worsening winter, the songs skewed increasingly introspective and emotive, reflecting a mood of dissipating futures and the infinite nocturnal unknown. The artists cite two core motivations for Honest Labour: to transcend the sum of their influences, and "to show what we're capable of." Both ambitions are entirely realized. The collection's 19 tracks flow with a synergy and sophistication as rare as they are radical, untethered to the dusty dub-techno templates of Space Afrika's early years. These are interstitial anthems, expressionistic and open-ended, delirious but deliberate, attuned to the drift and dreamstate of the present moment: "Ultimately this is an homage to U.K. energy, and an album about love and loss."

REISSUE - from original press release: For three decades the reclusive Revolutionary Army of The Infant Jesus (RAIJ) have confounded musical classification and studiously declined every invitation to explain their unique form of musical and artistic experimentation. Initially the Liverpool outfit built their reputation on their extraordinary immersive multi-media performances combining multiple layers of visual imagery, elements of ritual, enigmatic samples, field recordings and mesmeric live music. Their cult status was further reinforced with the release of the now much sought-after two studio albums The Gift of Tears (1987) and Mirror (1990) and two EP collections, Liturgie Pour La Fin Du Temps (1992) and Paradis (1995). After an 18-year hiatus the appearance of a new RAIJ album, and the apparent relaxation of their strict vow of silence, are generating predictable excitement and expectancy. Beauty Will Save the World does not disappoint. RAIJ's intoxicating mix of ethereal beauty, dazzling soundscapes and oblique mystery reach new levels of intensity and subtlety. The album title - a quote from Russian novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky - is one of the many literary, cinematic and spiritual references underpinning RAIJ's unexpected comeback. Founder members Paul Boyce, Jon Egan and Les Hampson, joined by a fresh wave of collaborators, have crafted an album of unique beauty and originality. Prolonged silence seems to have deepened rather than dimmed their creative impulse. As ever it is the breadth of musical genres, cultural references, borrowings and retrieved sounds that define the RAIJ aesthetic, but there is also a more consistently meditative and melodic strain that underpins the album's integrity and purpose. In a rare insight into the RAIJ's creative method, Jon Egan explains: "Although our work takes elements and inspiration from many disparate sources we have never viewed it as deconstruction. We are looking for the thread that connects every manifestation of beauty, however fragile, transitory and seemingly accidental. " In addition to the album release on Occultation, RAIJ's second coming also includes a live performance at this year's Greenbelt Festival and the re-release on vinyl of The Gift of Tears by California-based label Feral Sounds. "There is renewed interest and appreciation of our music and that's great", said Leslie Hampson. "We have never tried to cultivate obscurity or anonymity, we simply wanted to avoid having to explain and justify a creative process that isn't necessarily premeditated. Isn't it enough to listen to and experience it?"

Introducing a brand new label of mutant, fusioneering styles from the pulsating brain that rules from the centre of the Firecracker constellation.

The maiden voyage by Healing Force Project traverses further and deeper into the wormhole that was first explored in his Gravitational Lensing EP on Firecracker.

A full panoply of bubbling, semi-submerged, electro-acoustic abstraction, lysergic drones and oblique, polymetric time signatures recalling the work of Italian avant-jazz outfit Gruppo d’Improvvisazione while simultaneously picking up distant echoes from 'Pangaea' era Miles Davis, 23 Skidoo, Source Direct, Squarepusher, The Heliocentrics, This Heat and Mosquitoes.

'Fizz-cracking drum machines and sparring breakbeats knitted with eyes-shut chord progressions and a seemingly mystic sampler that spits pure magick vibes'.

This is electrified, psychozoic jazz fusion for tomorrow's unlocked vortices!

** 12” LP edition of 300 copies with cover artwork and booklet featuring illustrations by Ettore Tripodi ** In September 2019 Alessandro Bosetti was invited by fellow composer and curator Riccardo La Foresta to create a new work for a newly created ensemble as part of a residency program hosted by Centro Musica in Modena, Italy. The very first encounter took place on Skype – kind of a prediction of the forthcoming physically distanced pandemic times. The first, straight-to-the-point question Bosetti posed to each musician was to tell him the history of their life. The materials collected in the interviews subsequently underwent a process of anonymization, selection and cut-up in order to create the imaginary autobiography of Didone, a genderless character on whom Bosetti composed a combinatory poem in 84 aphorisms, six of which have been translated into music. The ensemble consists of extremely different musical profiles: the contemporary soprano Giulia Zaniboni, minimalist banjo and acoustic guitar player Glauco Salvo, and four musicians with a jazz background such as guitarist Luca Perciballi, drummers Andrea Grillini and Simone Sferruzza, and saxophonist Dan Kinzelman (also part of Hobby Horse trio and long-time collaborator of Enrico Rava). Some of the stylistic features of Bosetti’s project Trophies (along with Kenta Nagai and Tony Buck) can be detected here and there. Persistent repetitions, mesmerizing sonic masses and extended, oblique melodic lines are here led by the clear and precise voice of soprano Giulia Zaniboni.



The voice is at the heart of this work: the textual fragments of the autobiographies are filtered through Zaniboni’s contemporary vocality, while informing the instrumental writing as well. Themes and textures unveil traces of words or sentences; fragments of biographies are embedded in the intricate instrumental dialogue between the two drummers. A final layer was added by Ettore Tripodi, a unique and out-of-time visual artist who imagined Didone in a series of illustrations accompanying the poem. "Didone" is a work about the reconfiguration and recombination of identities, where every specific sense of belonging melts into an indistinct swarming of possibilities.



Alessandro Bosetti is a Marseille-based composer and sound artist with a particular interest in the musicality of language and in the voice, conceived as an autonomous object and an instrument of expression. His works enact a dialogue between language, voice and sound within complex tonal and formal constructions, often crossed by oblique irony. He builds surprising devices, often linked to the radio medium and to a tireless reflection on the relationships between music and language, questioning aesthetic categories and listening postures.



His work has been shown in reference venues such as the GRM / Présences Electronique festival in Paris, Roulette and The Stone in New York, Café OTO in London, the Liquid Architecture Festival in Melbourne and Sydney, the Serralves Museum in Porto and the San Francisco Electronic Music Festival. His music is released by labels such as Errant Bodies Press, Holidays Records, Rossbin, Sedimental, Unsounds, Monotype, Weird Ear Records.

Jonathan Fitoussi is a French composer that explores an electronic music versed in futuristic tones that evokes the vision of the future as it was perceived in the 60s or 70s, mixed with the perception of a unique, utopic world, yet to be reached, yet to be build.

After his last album Plein Soleil on the label, he offers here a limited run of 300 copies for his new release, contained in a transparent sleeve with postcard.

"Rayons" illustrates Les Rayons (Sarus), 2016, a sculpture by Xavier Veilhan. "Silences" illustrates Music for Mutant Stage 8 (2017) a film by Xavier Veilhan with Marie-Agnès Gillot & Dimitri Chamblas. On B side, you'll find an laser engraved original drawing by Xavier Veilhan called "Volume".

Armellodie Records is proud to present 'whence, the', the new album from Thirty Pounds of Bone aka, Johny Lamb. 'whence, the' is the sixth full-length album by Thirty Pounds of Bone and the third in a series of records that play deliberately with the affordances and problems of studio recording. 2015's 'The Taxidermist' was awash with huge, constructed ensemble pieces, 2019's critically-acclaimed, 'Still Every Year They Went' was recorded live, at sea, on a commercial fishing boat, and this last takes Johny Lamb's fascination with analogue synths further than before using Eurorack modular synths as the bedrock for each song. The result of working in this way is of course, that many of the parts on the record are all but impossible to recreate; the nature of the patches being built in the moment, captured, and undocumented. This time around Johny has focused on the tiny details of sadness, largely inspired by the events of 'A Story of Long' where the central moment of the song is observing a close friend pouring his husband a glass of water in a hospice, just some few hours before his death. This was an intimacy and time that Johny did not expect to be a part of (the album is dedicated to the couple in question). But this stirred a way of thinking about how huge events are often typified or defined by very small gestures or happenings, and each of the tracks here comes from that place. Be it the existential crisis brought on by stripping wallpaper in 'Woodchip', how a single day might signify the end of a long relationship ('A Note to Myself'), or the miniature resignations to compromise we make in professional life which eventually overwhelm our very identity ('The Cynical Start to a Jaded Career #1'). Johny's lyricism and composition remain oblique but touching, and these songs of little moments of sadness, regret and grief are built to remain small. They are paradoxically content in their sorrow and should perhaps be kept as companions to similar feelings. "Organic and immediate. Music you can touch with your fingertips" The Irish Times // "Talent to appeal far more than only folk fans alone" Record Collector // "Exquisite index of gin-soaked desolation.... Lamb sings like a man unable to see beyond keeping a stiff upper lip to the end of the song. Even if he manages it, you might not." Mojo

Multidimensional duo Divide and Dissolve release their third full length studio album ‘Gas Lit’ on Invada Records, produced by Ruban Neilson of Unknown Mortal Orchestra.
Divide and Dissolve members Takiaya Reed (saxophone, guitar, live effects) and Sylvie Nehill (drums, live effects) create instrumental music that is both heavy and beautiful, classically influenced yet thrillingly contemporary and powerfully expressive and communicative. Their music has the ability to speak without words and utilises frequencies to interact with the naturally occurring resonance.
The CD is presented as a digipack.
The vinyl is pressed on 180g Transparent Red vinyl and comes housed in a heavyweight spined sleeve with printed insert and digital download card.
‘We Are Really Worried About You’ presents a formidable saxophone sound giving way to a surge of crushing percussion and heavy guitar riffs. ‘Denial’ is a potent blend of Takiaya’s ominous and unsettling sax that blows wide open into riff city for almost eight glorious minutes. Both tracks encapsulate the message behind the music: to undermine and destroy the white supremacist colonial frameworks and to fight for indigenous sovereignty, black and indigenous liberation, water, earth and indigenous land given back.
For fans of James Baldwin, Osa Atoe, Adrienne Davies, the ocean and freshwater, breath/breathing, Toni Morrison, Octavia Butler, Afro futurism, indigenous futurism, indigenous sovereignty, slavery abolition, resistance, the forest, bodies of water, being submerged, the railroad and Ai Ogawa.