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Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

Death Is Not The End present a further volume of Arja Kastinen's eerie amalgamations of 110 year old wax cylinders with her own meticulously transcribed takes, this time focussing in on Armas Otto Väisänen's field recordings of kantele player Iivana Mišukka (b. 1861 d.1919).

"Ivana Mišukka (1861–1919) was one of the Karelian kantele players recorded by the folk music researcher Armas Otto Väisänen on wax cylinders in 1916 and 1917. In the early 20th century, the remote areas of Border Karelia were undergoing the final phase of a transformation in musical culture, with the ancient runo song tradition giving way to newer forms of music. This transition is reflected in Mišukka's repertoire and choice of instrument. The ancient small kantele, hollowed out of a single piece of wood, was already rare at the turn of the century. Mišukka's kantele was a new type of instrument with 26 strings, constructed of several parts, but he played it using the traditional plucking technique. Like other Border Karelian kantele players, his repertoire consisted of music rooted in runosong culture, as well as newer dances and songs from the east and west. Most of the recorded material falls into the latter category.

Ivan Bogdanov Mišukka was born out of wedlock in Suursara village, Suistamo, on 1 May 1861. He began playing the kantele at the age of five or six, quickly mastering the instrument. In adulthood, he was considered one of the area's best master players. Mišukka was landless for most of his life and lived in different parts of the Suistamo parish. His first wife, Tekla Markintytär, died in 1897 at the age of 40, and his second wife, Jevdokia Filipintytär Jeminen, died in 1907 at the age of 50. Seven children were born from the first marriage, two of whom died young. The third wife, Maria Ignatintytär Gurnan (Kuurnanen), was a well-known master of lamentations. Together with Maria, Iivana Mišukka worked as a tenant farmer in the village of Suursara. Mišukka suffered from rheumatism, which prevented him from participating in physical work like Maria. This was apparently partly the reason why Iivana Mišukka went to earn extra money by playing the kantele on gig trips. He often had other traditional artists from Suistamo as his travelling companions, such as the runosingers Konstantin Kuokka and Iivana Onoila. Iivana Mišukka died in Leppäsyrjä village, Suistamo, on 18 May 1919 at the age of 58, and his kantele was donated to Teppana Jänis.

Mišukka only used 14 of the 26 strings on his kantele, playing the same tunes either a fourth higher or lower. He tuned his kantele to the major scale using fifths, except for a low seventh scale degree on the upper strings, but not below the fundamental. Since he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all, he could use the major scale both lower and a fourth higher with this tuning. According to Mišukka, the sound of higher, or 'finer', strings is 'more beautiful', while that of lower ones is 'greater'. Among runosingers, the size of the thirds varied, ranging from major to minor to neutral. A similar phenomenon can be observed in kantele tunings, where the third, sixth and seventh scale degrees vary in a comparable way.

During a meeting, Väisänen suggested that Mišukka play the smaller kantele belonging to Konstantin Kuokka. The idea was to bring it closer to the horn to improve the recording quality. However, the kantele was completely out of tune, and now Mišukka tuned it to the Lydian scale (track 18).

Using the old plucking technique, Mišukka placed his right middle finger on the fundamental tone, his right index finger on the second scale degree, his left middle finger on the third scale degree and his left index finger on the fourth scale degree, and his right thumb on the fifth. The thumb also played the notes above the fifth note of the scale. As Mišukka remarked to Väisänen: 'Peigaloll' tuloo enemb ruadoa' (the thumb has to do more work). However, he did not use the seventh note of the scale on the upper strings at all. Below the fundamental note, he played the seventh and sixth notes of the scale with his right middle finger of and the fifth note of the scale with his right ring finger. This fifth scale degree below the fundamental is almost always used as a drone. Sometimes, when the melody required it, Mišukka, like other players, also varied the fingering. He would also occasionally strike the same string with the side of his fingernail after plucking it.

The wax cylinder recordings of Karelian kantele players are kept in the archives of the Finnish Literature Society in Helsinki, Finland. Copies were made of them onto reel-to-reel tapes in both the 1960s and 1980s. The 1960s copies are mono and the 1980s copies are stereo. However, not all kantele recordings from these decades have survived.

The sound of the kantele is difficult to hear in wax cylinder recordings due to its low volume, and it occasionally becomes completely obscured by noise. During the copying process, the cylinder sometimes rotates unevenly, resulting in breaks or jumps in the music. Additionally, the rotation speed of the cylinder in the copies does not correspond to the performance speed of the original music, which alters the pitch. However, since Väisänen's precise notes are available in the archive, it is possible to deduce the melodies, their speed, and the tuning level of the kantele in the recordings. Of the copies of the original recordings from the 1960s and 1980s, I have selected the one that best met the requirements of this publication and adjusted the speed of the recording to align with Väisänen's notes. To enhance the listening experience, I have replayed the songs, which now partly overlap the old recordings on this release."

— Arja Kastinen

José González has delivered a new album, Against the Dying of the Light, a companion and further meditation on the themes of his critically acclaimed album, Local Valley. Where Local Valley turned inward toward place, language, and personal reflection, this new record widens its gaze, becoming an urgent call to preserve the light of humanity with all its flaws, at a moment when, technology increasingly shapes how we think, feel, and relate to one another.

While José has always embraced technological advancement, he questions the assumption that every new possibility must be pursued to its maximum potential, especially when progress comes at the expense of human flourishing, attention, and empathy.

Keeping in the tradition of folk music as protest, José’s new single — sharing its title with the forthcoming album — urges listeners to resist systems that dehumanize and divide: “Disconnect from every algorithm, every perverse incentive that drags you down. Let’s rebel against the replicators, against the dying of the light. Kill the codes that feed the hate, keep the codes that make you thrive, celebrate the **king fact that we’re alive.”

Across the album, González works within a deliberately minimal framework, pushing his familiar palette to new heights through subtle variation, restraint, and detail. Each song unfolds with its own distinct character, proving how much emotional and musical range can be achieved within self - imposed limitations. Written in English, Swedish, and Spanish, the record reflects his Swedish - Argentine roots and frames its humanist message as a global one rather than a purely personal or political statement.

José González is one of the most quietly influential artists of our generation. The Swedish - Argentine artist has built a singular musical world from hypnotic, minimal guitar work and his unmistakably gentle voice — a sound that has become deeply personal to millions of listeners worldwide. With billions of streams across platforms and hundreds of thousands of physical records sold, González’s songs often act as emotional landmarks. Ask almost anyone, and they can name at least one of his tracks tied to a defining moment in their lives.

6 LPS, DVD, 40 PAGE BOOK, CASSETTE
AND FIGURINE USB DRIVE

Endless Pain
(Swirl vinyl with original artwork & inner sleeve)
Pleasure To Kill
(Splatter vinyl with original artwork & inner sleeve)
Terrible Certainty
(Splatter vinyl with original artwork & inner lyric sleeve)
Extreme Aggression
(Half/half vinyl with original artwork & inner lyric sleeve)
Coma Of Souls
(Splatter vinyl with original artwork & inner lyric sleeve)
Renewal
(Swirl vinyl with original artwork & inner lyric sleeve)
Some Pain Will Last DVD
Containing ‘From The Vault’ mini documentary, plus two previously unreleased audio live concerts and an Andy Sneap remix of Live In East Berlin 1990.

Formed in Essen, Germany in 1984, Kreator are arguably the most influential and successful European thrash metal band ever, like many of their European speed metal brethren, Kreator fused Metallica's thrash innovations with Venom's proto-black metal imagery. Often credited with helping pioneer death metal and black metal by containing several elements of what was to become those genres. The band has achieved worldwide sales of over two million units for combined sales of all their albums, making them one of the best-selling German thrash metal bands of all time. The band’s style has changed several times over the years, from a Venom-inspired speed metal sound, later moving in to thrash metal, and including a period of transitioning from thrash to industrial metal and gothic metal throughout the 1990s. In the early 2000s, Kreator returned to their classic thrash sound, which has continued to the present. Their last studio album ‘Gods Of Violence’ charted top twenty in ten countries, including a number one slot in their home country of Germany.

''Stealth' is certainly an apt title for this disarming collection of crypto-New Age. From its opening, one might be forgiven for assuming that what follows is a tableau of digital disruption, and noise in one of its less offensive iterations.
However, Takao instead presents a rich and detailed tapestry of compositions that take New Age affectations, fashioning them into something far grander. There's a penchant for the nai¨ve, the more garish of digital instruments in the vein of James Ferraro - but importantly, Takao steers away from submitting to gestures themselves nai¨ve or garish, opting instead to focus attention to a more nuanced, delicate style.
Indeed, a more intrinsic tradition to posit 'Stealth' as an inheritor of would be the Impressionism of Debussy, or even Satie, with Takao's approach drawing light and composure from his instruments at their most bare and unadorned. Ever so pleasing and atmospheric, 'Stealth' is remarkably affecting in its subtlety.' (Nico Niquo)

“ko mixtape” is okgiorgio’s personal vision of club culture: a 15-track journey where electronics,
acous c instruments, and samples coexist. Capturing two years of live performances across Italy
and Europe, it embodies the privilege of connec ng with so many people and bringing them
together on the dancefloor. The album is designed to be heard in one breath, much like a DJ set,
and is performed en rely in Italian—driven by the belief that even when traveling the world, it’s
vital to showcase where you come from.
okgiorgio is a musician and producer born in 1996. Based in Bergamo, he is a member of the band
ISIDE and has produced for major Italian ar sts such as Pinguini Ta0ci Nucleari, Loredana Bertè,
Carl Brave, Tancredi, and many others. His solo project—a blend of refined, powerful electronic
textures held together by an uncanny use of vocal manipula on—launched in 2022 with the track
"okokok" and a packed debut live show at the APE event in Milan.
His music has gained significant recogni on abroad. In December 2022, he was named one of
Rockit’s "CBCR" (Ar sts to Watch) for the following year.

Das fünfte Studioalbum von Avenged Sevenfold, "Nightmare", stieg 2010 auf Platz 1 der Billboard 200 Charts und auf Platz 5 der UK OCC Charts ein. Nach dem unerwarteten Tod des Schlagzeugers Jimmy "The Rev" Sullivan ist das Album seinem Andenken gewidmet und spiegelt in seinem Themen Tod und Verzweiflung wider. Mike Portnoy von Dream Theater sprang am Schlagzeug ein, um die Aufnahmen fertigzustellen. Metal Hammer bewertete das Album mit acht von zehn Punkten. Billboard bewertete es mit vier von fünf Punkten und Kerrang! gab dem Album vier von fünf Ks. Das Album gewann die Golden God Awards für den besten Schlagzeuger, den besten Gitarristen und das Album des Jahres. Es wurde für die Kerrang! Awards als bestes Album und beste Single (Nightmare) nominiert und vom Revolver Magazine für Buried Alive zum Song des Jahres 2011 gekürt. "Like their previous outings, the group incorporates a New Wave of British Heavy Metal influence throughout Nightmare while paying tribute to `80s hair metal with guitar god appeal; but playing retroactive music doesn't seem to concern them, as long as they play it more skillfully than their forefathers. The group's influences may be worn on their sleeves, (check out the chugging Metallica "One" breakdown in "Buried Alive," or the Queensrÿche-style power-ballad "Victim"), but there is no denying that they have some of the best chops in the metal world. M. Shadows continually amazes with his vocal acrobatics, the opening riff of "Natural Born Killer" ramps up to an inhuman speed. "Save Me" ends the album as one of their most epic songs to date, in a proper 21 gun salute, as thunderous blasts and guitar divebombs interweave into a heartfeltoutro. It's a fitting tribute for their fallen 28-year-old comrade, and excellent proof of the band's ability." - Für Fans von Metallica, Slipknot, Bullet For My Valentine, NWOBHM, Heavy Hair Metal, Metal

This double LP yellow vinyl 20th anniversary release of G. Love's "Lemonade" celebrates one of his most beloved and successful records. The release accentuates G. Love’s unmistakable blend of blues grit, hip-hop cadence, and sun-kissed songwriting and captured a creative peak that welcomed an all-star cast of collaborators including Jack Johnson, Ben Harper, Marc Broussard, Blackalicious and more. Critics praised its warmth and ease, often calling it one of G. Love’s most effortlessly joyful projects, and fans have carried its songs with them for two decades.

Bristol duo Pume Orenge unspool a world of spectral electronica from cassette loops and instrumental improvisation on their debut album Angel By Milo for Odda Recordings.

It is a world that opens draped in ferric hiss. A fog of sound, dense and yet not quite there, catching the light in strange shades and ambient drifts. Looping and receding, looping and receding, as pucks of static burst like faraway fireworks on a cold winter’s night. Sound sources obscured, ambiguous, not quite what they seem.

Angel By Milo takes its lead from the analogue process and textures by which it was made. Percussive and melodic loops were established, manipulated and responded to with instrumental improvisation, in a give-and-take with the materiality of the medium.

Across these seven intricately developed tracks, the sound fluctuates between the cinematic and the introspective, at times melancholy, at others verging on a kind of restrained anger, before the calm sets in once more. It is music for the small hours, awash with the grainy stuff of memory.

Embedded within Bristol’s independent scene, Pume Orenge’s quiet debut also speaks to the duo’s shared roots in the area, and like many of Odda’s previous releases, contains a sensitivity to place and atmosphere, even when these are no more than implied.

Angel By Milo builds on the DIY ethos of Pume Orenge's 2023 self-titled debut EP, whose tracks were recorded live in single takes, now honing a more intentional, purposeful approach to music making. It is one in which layers of meaning are allowed to reveal themselves, a way of composing that makes a virtue of its labour and the chance occurrences that can arise in the process.

This is music in praise of shadows. Of the things we can’t quite see, the feelings we can’t quite grasp. Heard through the haze, or maybe not at all.

There's a tendency in metal to mistake aggression for honesty, volume for depth. To confuse the performance of darkness with its actual weight. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest, the new album from San Francisco-based post-black metal band Bosse-de-Nage, sidesteps this entirely. It’s the group’s most fully realized work yet, precisely because it refuses to be pinned down.

Bosse-de-Nage have been working with The Flenser for over fifteen years. They were one of the first bands the label ever partnered with and have the longest active relationship in the label's history. But unlike most bands who build momentum through constant touring and visibility, Bosse-de-Nage has largely existed apart from the music world's usual machinery. They've evolved on their own terms, in relative isolation, allowing the work to develop without outside pressure or influence. What began rooted in black metal anonymity has mutated into something that actively defies categorization. The aggression is still there, but it's no longer the point. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest finds the band treating emotions like physical objects, feelings with spatial properties. “No Such Place"" describes a space that can't exist but does anyway, somewhere between thought and location. ""Immortality Project"" examines infinite possibility not as promise but as problem, endless options collapsing under their own weight. These songs don't use metaphor to describe emotion. They make emotion into something you could theoretically touch.
Tracked by Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Oathbreaker) at Atomic Garden East and mixed and mastered by Richard Chowenhill of Agriculture, Hidden Fires Burn Hottest was years in development, with some tracks beginning in 2018.

The long writing process offered time that most records don't get. Time to live with ideas, revise endlessly, to let structures settle. For the first time, lyricist Bryan Manning wrote everything in advance, creating a surplus to pull from rather than working under deadline pressure. The difference shows.
Coming off Further Still, an album built on constraint and economy, Bosse-de-Nage sought the opposite: sprawl, strangeness, fewer rules. Space for ideas to develop without rushing them. Dynamics that move through quiet as much as noise. Presence earned through atmosphere instead of volume. The record even includes ""Mementos,"" which might be considered the first love song the band has ever written.

Nothing here coheres into a theme. These are pieces pulled from low moments and private feelings made public through sound. The band has never been interested in positivity, in music that resolves cleanly or offers comfort. But bleakness doesn't mean humorlessness. There's something darkly funny running through much of it, even when it shouldn't be.
Hidden Fires Burn Hottest doesn't explain itself. It just insists: what you feel is as real as what you can see."

There's a tendency in metal to mistake aggression for honesty, volume for depth. To confuse the performance of darkness with its actual weight. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest, the new album from San Francisco-based post-black metal band Bosse-de-Nage, sidesteps this entirely. It’s the group’s most fully realized work yet, precisely because it refuses to be pinned down.

Bosse-de-Nage have been working with The Flenser for over fifteen years. They were one of the first bands the label ever partnered with and have the longest active relationship in the label's history. But unlike most bands who build momentum through constant touring and visibility, Bosse-de-Nage has largely existed apart from the music world's usual machinery. They've evolved on their own terms, in relative isolation, allowing the work to develop without outside pressure or influence. What began rooted in black metal anonymity has mutated into something that actively defies categorization. The aggression is still there, but it's no longer the point. Hidden Fires Burn Hottest finds the band treating emotions like physical objects, feelings with spatial properties. “No Such Place"" describes a space that can't exist but does anyway, somewhere between thought and location. ""Immortality Project"" examines infinite possibility not as promise but as problem, endless options collapsing under their own weight. These songs don't use metaphor to describe emotion. They make emotion into something you could theoretically touch.
Tracked by Jack Shirley (Deafheaven, Oathbreaker) at Atomic Garden East and mixed and mastered by Richard Chowenhill of Agriculture, Hidden Fires Burn Hottest was years in development, with some tracks beginning in 2018.

The long writing process offered time that most records don't get. Time to live with ideas, revise endlessly, to let structures settle. For the first time, lyricist Bryan Manning wrote everything in advance, creating a surplus to pull from rather than working under deadline pressure. The difference shows.
Coming off Further Still, an album built on constraint and economy, Bosse-de-Nage sought the opposite: sprawl, strangeness, fewer rules. Space for ideas to develop without rushing them. Dynamics that move through quiet as much as noise. Presence earned through atmosphere instead of volume. The record even includes ""Mementos,"" which might be considered the first love song the band has ever written.

Nothing here coheres into a theme. These are pieces pulled from low moments and private feelings made public through sound. The band has never been interested in positivity, in music that resolves cleanly or offers comfort. But bleakness doesn't mean humorlessness. There's something darkly funny running through much of it, even when it shouldn't be.
Hidden Fires Burn Hottest doesn't explain itself. It just insists: what you feel is as real as what you can see."

Their debut album, Why Trains Crash was released in June of that year to rave reviews. In 2023 they released their follow-up LP, A Company Sleeve, solidifying their reputation with critics and fans alike for all- killer/ no- filler indie rock. Their third LP, Never Felt Bitter, will be released on March 27, 2026. The music on Never Felt Bitter -- the quartet's first release for Chicago- based Forge Again Records--is the result of playing together on hundreds of nights in innumerable bars and clubs across Southern California and beyond. Over the years the band has honed a fearsome melding of pop melodicism and raw physicality. Their knack for crafting catchy anthems for outsiders and underdogs has made them one of the most respected underground bands in L.A.

An album with reflection, resilience, journey, and elemental connections at its core, Hollow Chapters is a collection of original songs written and performed by the Marsh Family - Dad (Ben, 49), Mum (Danielle, 48), sons Alfie (19) and Tom (18), and daughters Ella (16) and Tess (14). Recently featured in The Observer, the multiinstrumentalist family group of six from Kent have a significant international online following passionate about their mix of folk- pop harmonies, uplifting messages, authentic imperfections, and sense of connection and heart. Hollow Chapters ranges across genres (from acoustic protest songs to funk and reggae rock), but has a vintage organic style, rooted in natural analogies, ideas of journey and lifecycle, and epic and inspirational themes. It promises to move people emotionally, whether through ballads about departed loved ones or stirring tracks designed to forge collective action and hope. The songs tell stories using the different voices of family members, drawing inspiration from poetry, landscape, and artefacts.

Bruno Silva, operating here under his restless Serpente alias, returns with Visita do Fogo — a sharp, stripped-back and incendiary counterpoint to the drifting, dream-jazz abstractions of Dias da Aranha. If that record floated like smoke, this one crackles and snaps like dry wood.

Visita do Fogo finds Silva stepping back into the heat of his beat-driven origins, embracing a raw, forward-leaning approach that feels closer to his live detonation than a studio construction. The record is built on stark materials — drum fragments, percussive jolts, scorched-earth loops — all manipulated with his unmistakable “screw” instincts: micro-cuts, sudden pivots, rhythmic false floors and the sense that the track might turn itself inside-out at any moment.
Rather than smoothing edges or leaning into atmospherics, Serpente doubles down on urgency. Each piece moves through the record with a chop-and-go physicality, a kind of ritual propulsion that never settles into comfort. Silva’s rhythmic language remains entirely his own: crooked but precise, feral yet meticulous, rooted in dance structures but constantly mutating away from them.

Visita do Fogo is less a sequel to Dias da Aranha than a flare shot into the same night sky — brighter, hotter, and designed to leave afterimages. It captures an artist burning forward, shedding everything unnecessary, trusting the flame.

"Saint Cloud" von Katie Crutchfield alias Waxahatchee ist das fünfte Album der Indie-Songschreiberin und wurde im Sommer 2019 auf der texanischen Sonic Ranch in Tornillo und Long Pond in Stuyvesant, NY, aufgenommen und von Brad Cook (Bon Iver, Big Red Machine) produziert. Mit unerschütterlicher Ehrlichkeit unterzieht sich Crutchfield auf "Saint Cloud" einer offenen Selbstprüfung. Das Album entstand nach Crutchfields Entschluss Alkohol und Drogen hinter sich zu lassen, entsprechend widmet sie sich lyrisch dem Thema Sucht. Das schlägt sich auch klanglich in einer klareren und traditionelleren Ausrichtung des Albums nieder: "I think all of my records are turbulent and emotional, but this one feels like it has a little dose of enlightenment. It feels a little more calm and less reckless." gibt die Musikerin zu Protokoll. Auch musikalisch beschreitet Crutchfield neues Terrain, während die letzten beiden gefeierten Alben "Out In The Storm" (2017) und "Ivy Tripp" (2015) noch von lärmenden Gitarren bestimmt waren, streift "Saint Cloud" diese Wall of Sound Schicht für Schicht ab, um Platz für Crutchfields Stimme und Texte zu schaffen. Das Ergebnis ist ein Album geworden, das von klassischen Americana-Sounds durchwoben ist, aber mit einem modernen Touch. Auf "Saint Cloud" präsentiert sich Crutchfield erneut als eine der talentiertesten Geschichtenerzählerinnen der Gegenwart und sitzt so selbstsicher im Songwriter-Sattel wie noch nie zuvor.

Over half a century after it set them on the path to superstardom, Queen’s regal second album, Queen II, has been remixed and remastered.

Arguably the heaviest Queen album, Queen II was originally released in 1974 and widely heralded as their first true masterpiece. With Brian May and Roger Taylor as executive producers, the album has been stunningly mixed by the team of Justin Shirley-Smith, Joshua J Macrae and Kris Fredriksson.

Moo is the first wide release on my new label MUP! When I decided to make a new record, it only seemed right to go back to what brings me the most joy, which is, Rock & Roll music. I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA. I stopped caring if there were mistakes. There’s not enough mistakes. I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice. I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit. I wish it sounded even worse. Rock & Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED. All in all, MOO is a full circle moment. A return to form. A return to rock. A return to Vermont. A return to myself. Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.

Moo is the first wide release on my new label MUP! When I decided to make a new record, it only seemed right to go back to what brings me the most joy, which is, Rock & Roll music. I got my Tascam 388 fixed, the same tape machine I had used to record my first album, King Tuff Was Dead. It had been sitting in my parent’s house in Vermont for the past 14 years, but I had finally dragged it out to LA. I stopped caring if there were mistakes. There’s not enough mistakes. I played my old, blue, Gibson SG, Jazijoo, and she spewed mangled electrified gold. For once, I sang and I didn’t hate my voice. I played the drums badly and bounced them in mono to one track and it sounded like glorious shit. I wish it sounded even worse. Rock & Roll is the music of rodents and bugs. It should sound like it crept from a decrepit trashcan or a crypt or a toilet. It is not chill or vibey, autotuned or on the grid. It is not perfect, which is why it’s perfect. And I don’t care if it’s dead or alive, cool or uncool: when I hear it, and when I play it, as a chubby and balding 43 year old punk weirdo, I FEEL ENERGIZED. All in all, MOO is a full circle moment. A return to form. A return to rock. A return to Vermont. A return to myself. Reconnecting the dots. Restarting the engine. Plugging in the stack. Finally letting King Tuff be King. Fucking. Tuff.

For our first EP and 12", we're joined by Italian sound artist and long-time Goodness friend Yraki for 5 tracks of sonic hypnosis on a bass-heavy theme: ‘Tendril’ is meditative future-techno meticulously constructed through an experimental, high-poly lens.

Detailed, tactile sound design with deep, hypnotic momentum, it shapeshifts between stripped-back bass pressure and elastic, experimental flow in one costant, evolving, unravelling thread.

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The shadowed interstice between root and circuit, Tendrils creep through soil and signal alike, tracing patterns unseen, carrying memory and mutation. Time folds in layers of sediment and data; decay becomes growth, fracture becomes connection.

Tendrils are the pulse of the unseen, a meditation on growth, entropy, and the uncanny geometry of becoming.

Undun is the story of a man, Redford Stevens, dying in reverse, rewinding from the moment he became a statistic and hitting the points in his life where he's at his most self-aware. That he's a criminal who got caught up in the familiar street-hustle trappings that the modern media's documented countless times is a pivotal detail-- it's hit at an angle that seems to emphasize the futile inevitability of it all. His life could be any number of misdirected narratives that ends with a toe tag, and what details listeners learn about him are hazy, buried under archetypal turns of fate and decisive struggles. That this protagonist is a fictionalized composite of a handful of real people, filtered through a matter-of-fact narrative that splits character ambivalence with journalistic impartiality, only makes his lack of direction and the failure of any real closure stand out even more. "Lotta niggas go to prison," Dice Raw states on "Tip the Scale", "how many come out Malcolm X?"

So the Roots' latest album isn't a sprawling, rise-and-fall crime story, not a condemnation or a veneration of a man living outside the law, not a bullet-riddled grand guignol heavy on explicit details of soldiers getting cut down. It's a character study of a man whose existential crisis ends only with his death-- a death gone largely unspecified, the glamor and tragedy washed over with a doomed resignation. That's a hard thing to pull off, even for a band as given to deep-thinking concepts as the Roots are. And when your main lyrical catalyst is Black Thought-- a man more given to allusions than direct statements-- it's likely that it'll take a while for the full scope of Undun to really sink in.

If and when it does, it might strike listeners as a bit skeletal: omit the mood-setting instrumental bookends, including a brief, four-part orchestral suite that builds off Sufjan Stevens' "Redford (For Yia-Yia and Pappou)", and you've got maybe a half hour's worth of material. By ?uestlove's accounts, writing Redford's story introduced the headaches and challenges that come with scriptwriting into their songwriting, and what's left on Undun is the end result of frequent revisions and rewrites that attempt to reconcile character, theme, and continuity. If it comes at the expense of nuance, it's not always obvious: There's an easy-to-trace narrative line from Redford's acceptance of his fate ("Sleep") to his acknowledgement of how close it's approaching ("Make My"), back through declarations of aggravated toughness ("One Time"), and celebratory fatalism ("Kool On"), along ups and downs that juxtapose motivation ("Stomp") and helplessness ("Lighthouse"). When the vocal portion of the album ends with two of the bleakest sets of verses in the Roots discography, peaking with the estrangement of "I Remember" and the desperation of "Tip the Scale", Undun reveals itself as a story where a man's actual death isn't quite as tragic as the circumstances that pushed him to it.