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For over 25 years, David Madson (aka Odd Nosdam) has been stationed away from the light of the mainstream, diligently working the nightshift. Every so often, we awake to find another of his bleary and beautiful missives slung into the waking world – albums whose assemblages of sampled grooves, atmospheres and voices are unified by a hallucinatory sense of melody, like disparate visions strung together through ribbons of sleep-talk. From his earliest days as a member of the seminal group cLOUDDEAD, through his remixes for artists such as Boards of Canada and Black Moth Super Rainbow, Nosdam has been reporting back from his rounds upon the perimeters of culture and consciousness, forging a musical language all of his own.

On Patrol is the second Odd Nosdam LP to be released on The Notwist’s imprint Alien Transistor – following on from the 2019 album Mirrors – and continues a collaborative history that begun with a 2008 remix of The Notwist song, “Sleep”. It’s a love letter to the vinyl format, produced with the aim of optimizing for a single LP. This objective permeated every aspect of the album’s production, from the duration of each side through to the vinyl mastering (Jessica Thompson) and lacquer-cutting (Dubplates & Mastering, Berlin). As we've come to expect, the album is built almost entirely from found sounds, many of which were taken from obscure and second-hand vinyl gathered during Nosdam’s ceaseless crate-digging escapades. Other sources include field recordings made in 2022 at the Catalonia summer home of artist Salvador Dalí, which are baked into the swirling sci-fi glide of “Here to Know (Adéu Mix)”, and a sumptuous clunking bass line courtesy of Organi’s Mike Walti, which runs like an infinite highway through the fuzzy, sunbaked sprawl of “Deepsimple”.

Odd Nosdam’s work has always swept the entire atmospheric spectrum, from rhythmic vigour to levitational beauty. On Patrol is perhaps his finest assimilation of these extremes. “Sgt. Pepsi” is the perfect case in point: a formidable slow groove capsizes into vinyl crackle after a mere minute, before the song resurrects itself through sweeping strings and vocal harmonies, sliding against each other like the overlain romantic denouements to a dozen Hollywood films from the 1940s. Elsewhere, “Get You In (Belong Mix)” drapes shoegaze guitar over a trundling funk backbeat, straddling the physical world and the outer realms, while hushed voices point toward the song's implied themes of cultural cliques, critical consensus and the plight of the eternal outsider: “Sure, I can get you in... these people are my friends, I’m one of them - I belong.”

This is music that both endures and disappears. Odd Nosdam has always wielded a strange relationship with time, scrambling association with any specific era, weaving together numerous tempos simultaneously. There is no master clock. Each track could happily hold up as an infinite loop, yet Nosdam clearly favours the potency of the gone-too-soon, applying the fadeout just as hypnosis starts to crest. Indeed, the songs are both the product of meticulous long-term construction and spontaneity. While the foundations of On Patrol have come together over several years, the recording process involved channeling vibes through a vintage Roland Space Echo and bouncing song fragments back and forth from hard disk to cassette 8-track, gifting a phased permanence to creative decisions made on the fly – a hat-tip to the production processes of Nosdam's longtime hero, Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry. Like a recurring dream, On Patrol appeals to both the plains of momentary ephemera and the long-established backchannels of the unconscious, equal parts revelation and deja vu.

Text by Jack Chuter
Artwork by Ian Ferguson

Creole Culture is the triumphant return of Dawn Richard’s King Creole era. Steeped in history but with its flag planted firmly in the future, Creole Culture pulls elements from Richard’s heritage as a Black and Native American woman who has spent a lifetime making and engaging with music. Following New Breed (2019) and Second Line (2021), Creole Culture is akin to a panel of a triptych: a fully-realized sonic and narrative universe in which Richard, as King Creole, rebuilds her hometown of New Orleans in her image. She not only honors her city for what it was or what it gave her, but stakes a claim for it as a cradle of global culture now and for all time.


Creole Culture follows two acclaimed avant-garde R&B albums with composer Spencer Zahn — the later of which, 2024’s Quiet in a World Full of Noise, found Richard exorcising the specters of grief and trauma in the wake of her father Frank Richard’s health struggles and the killing of her cousin Cisco. It is a softer take on the brass-soaked swagger of Richard’s previous King Creole efforts, an evolution brought about when she realized she had left a crucial viewpoint out of her exploration of New Orleans: her own. “New Breed was the story of New Orleans through my father’s eyes,” Richard explains. “I used his samples, his music, his cultures, his work with Chocolate Milk, his side of the family. Second Line was my mom — her interludes riddled the album with her depiction of what is meant to be a Creole woman in New Orleans. The masculine and feminine sides of King Creole had expressed themselves through them, but the story felt unfinished, like my version of the story was untold.”
That story is, for lack of a better word, complex: at turns triumphant and tragic, sexy and mournful, braggadocious and contemplative. Creole Culture presents Richard’s New Orleans as a utopian soundscape — an intoxicating blend of R&B, soul, hip-hop, pop, and jazz — that’s survived and thrived despite the dystopian circumstances visited upon it. Richard presents the melange of influence and artifact on Creole Culture with the care of a botanist nurturing new hybrids in a rose garden.


What emerges from that care is at once delightful and unexpected, enlisting a crew of guest stars including Big Freedia, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, Tarriona “Tank” Ball, and Durand Bernarr for features that play against type. Tank’s turn at spoken word verse on “l v r” serves to add dimension to King Creole’s New Orleans, as does Joseph’s undeniable voice on “chuuuurch.” “I’m not normally a features girl,” says Richard, ”but King Creole can’t build a world from scratch without help. What’s beautiful about the features here — which is also true of my band and producers — is they come from people who understand the materials of the world they’re from, they’re people I love, and they’re people who are just extraordinary at what they do. They’re part of the atmosphere of this place. You need them for the record to breathe.”
In the end, that’s what King Creole creates: a space where Dawn Richard can breathe, can be at peace with herself, and let loose with others. From finding love in opening single “enough” to relishing in the Afrocaribbean futurism of “fiesta,” Creole Culture is a tremendous, freeing breath of fresh air. It captures the resolve of a woman and a place who’ve survived the unimaginable and sees the future not as something to be endured, but as something to be created. Dawn Richard has been making that future one album at a time over the course of her career. Creole Culture is her most stunning one yet.

Creole Culture is the triumphant return of Dawn Richard’s King Creole era. Steeped in history but with its flag planted firmly in the future, Creole Culture pulls elements from Richard’s heritage as a Black and Native American woman who has spent a lifetime making and engaging with music. Following New Breed (2019) and Second Line (2021), Creole Culture is akin to a panel of a triptych: a fully-realized sonic and narrative universe in which Richard, as King Creole, rebuilds her hometown of New Orleans in her image. She not only honors her city for what it was or what it gave her, but stakes a claim for it as a cradle of global culture now and for all time.


Creole Culture follows two acclaimed avant-garde R&B albums with composer Spencer Zahn — the later of which, 2024’s Quiet in a World Full of Noise, found Richard exorcising the specters of grief and trauma in the wake of her father Frank Richard’s health struggles and the killing of her cousin Cisco. It is a softer take on the brass-soaked swagger of Richard’s previous King Creole efforts, an evolution brought about when she realized she had left a crucial viewpoint out of her exploration of New Orleans: her own. “New Breed was the story of New Orleans through my father’s eyes,” Richard explains. “I used his samples, his music, his cultures, his work with Chocolate Milk, his side of the family. Second Line was my mom — her interludes riddled the album with her depiction of what is meant to be a Creole woman in New Orleans. The masculine and feminine sides of King Creole had expressed themselves through them, but the story felt unfinished, like my version of the story was untold.”
That story is, for lack of a better word, complex: at turns triumphant and tragic, sexy and mournful, braggadocious and contemplative. Creole Culture presents Richard’s New Orleans as a utopian soundscape — an intoxicating blend of R&B, soul, hip-hop, pop, and jazz — that’s survived and thrived despite the dystopian circumstances visited upon it. Richard presents the melange of influence and artifact on Creole Culture with the care of a botanist nurturing new hybrids in a rose garden.


What emerges from that care is at once delightful and unexpected, enlisting a crew of guest stars including Big Freedia, Anjelika “Jelly” Joseph, Tarriona “Tank” Ball, and Durand Bernarr for features that play against type. Tank’s turn at spoken word verse on “l v r” serves to add dimension to King Creole’s New Orleans, as does Joseph’s undeniable voice on “chuuuurch.” “I’m not normally a features girl,” says Richard, ”but King Creole can’t build a world from scratch without help. What’s beautiful about the features here — which is also true of my band and producers — is they come from people who understand the materials of the world they’re from, they’re people I love, and they’re people who are just extraordinary at what they do. They’re part of the atmosphere of this place. You need them for the record to breathe.”
In the end, that’s what King Creole creates: a space where Dawn Richard can breathe, can be at peace with herself, and let loose with others. From finding love in opening single “enough” to relishing in the Afrocaribbean futurism of “fiesta,” Creole Culture is a tremendous, freeing breath of fresh air. It captures the resolve of a woman and a place who’ve survived the unimaginable and sees the future not as something to be endured, but as something to be created. Dawn Richard has been making that future one album at a time over the course of her career. Creole Culture is her most stunning one yet.

Ten years ago, Horse Jumper of Love released their self-titled debut, one that not only launched their career but also inspired a generation of shoegaze artists to come.


Recorded in a mill space studio by future longtime collaborator Bradford Krieger and first released in 2016 (before a re-issue by Run For Cover in 2017), Horse Jumper of Love introduced listeners to the band’s unique strain of expertly crafted minimalism and haunting lyricism. Tracks like “Orange Peeler” and “Ugly Brunette” capture a gritty melancholy and existentialism that is both youthful and timeless, angst-ridden and sincere. Now, a decade later, Horse Jumper of Love remains a beloved cult classic and a touchstone of the band’s continually developing brand of glacial, grungy indie rock.
This 10 Year Anniversary Deluxe Edition LP features new tri-fold packaging with collaged ephemera from singer and songwriter Dimitri Giannopoulos’ years in Boston while writing the record, a 20-page sewn-in booklet featuring never before seen photos and drawings, and handwritten tablature for the record’s original 9 songs. Disc one includes the original album fully re-mastered, and the brand new second disc features 13 bonus tracks recorded between the years of 2013-2015, mostly by Dimitri at home on a Tascam Portastudio, including single “Heathers (2013)” which was an early version of what would later become “i love you very much forever” and other never before heard demos, b-sides, and alternate versions of the original songs.
The record will also be released for the first time on CD, packaged in a 2-disc swing tray jewel case with a fold out poster.

The third in a series of releases from the Digi Dub archives, Like it Here is a tribute to the poet laureate of Special Brew, the late Iffor Clarkson-Denbigh, who sadly departed us in 2021 to drink in the great park in the stars.

The infectious and futuristic late 90s vocal space dub of the A side finds Iffor waxing lyrically about both the nature of impermanence and the sentient ocean of Solaris over an irresistible bassline and low winding groove. The flip side features a suitably chugging version of the rail riding classic Loveborough Junction and a percussive early 90s acid dub of Heart like a Lion, the original of which dropped on the South East of the Thames collection. None of the tracks are traditional style dubs, but happily exist in the gaps between genres.


Iffor was a well-known multi-instrumentalist and vocalist on the South East London underground scene who lived life to the max without an off switch. He and label owner Lee Berwick truly had a laugh in the studio, producing Purple Boy (the classic ode to drinking in the park), the suitably named Clevor but Stupid album and many other uncategorisable musical wanderings.

“The hope is that Iffor, the dark son of Clenby, is cackling as he cracks another can while looking down on us from the great park in the stars.” Lee Digidub Berwick

The unconscious element to the conscious process.

The practice of dub techno and its tendrils is a fundamental for me, both aesthetically and from an engineering perspective.

I start every recording session with a dub inspired jam, the first piece I ever recorded in 1996 was an effort to recreate Phylyps Trak with only a Korg X3 and an Ibanez PUE5 (borrowed from Gary Howell). It was an awesome introduction to jamming, and the footing stones of noise, delay and saturation were explored with my foot hard on the enthusiasm pedal.

These practice jams are in some sense cathartic, the first step taken again & again, which helps me move forwards each session and additionally helps to 'warm the circuits' both of myself and the machines.

After realising the genius of Basic Channel is akin to the genius of peasant food, using every ingredient with nothing left to waste, (up to and including the oft maligned working noise of the machines themselves), this was a watershed moment for my own subjective progression. No longer tied to just emulation of something inspiring, but taking these learned tools into other areas of music helped to break free from a strong current of influence and also to progress into other areas with the new toolbox.

Dub:

The importance of the dub pioneers should never be understated, in modern music and my own practice. Yet with my initial inspiration being two german dudes issuing extreme techno variants with obscured label designs, who then signposted their listeners to their own inspirations (via their Wackies re-issues or nodded to on their Rhythm & Sound/Burial Mix sub-labels), meant that I started late and travelled backwards.

Learning to notice the live mixing of Mikey Dread or Lee Perry when the faders are bleeding through even when turned down, (echoed in BC's Quadrant Dub), or the brash send effects literally thrown into the mix also taught me that 'rough' mixing can inject a recording with life, uniqueness and the most right wrongness. Looking back Basic Channels very few elements helped me realise that the rules to be understood, are also the best ones to be broken.

Push the mixer into the red.

Amp that noise up from the tape delay cos it sounds sick.

Pseudo side-chain effects cos the kicks are way too loud and the mixer can't sum it nicely.

Spam the send knob into the delay units now, now and now.

Carelessness.

Noise:

Once I wrapped my head around the intrinsic 'noise' element that set those records apart, this became a torchlight into the alt noise movements which I was tentatively exploring at the time, and also is evidently a connection or thread into them.

Whether the Industrial/Post Punk UK scene (This Heat, TG, A Tent, F.E.) or the prolific output of the US Noise scene (Wolf Eyes, Live & Shave in LA, and subsequently following the lineage all the way back to Chrome's Alien Soundtracks), I had finally discovered a connection from techno to this 'free for all' corner of music.

This input from the Noise arena of sound is, in my experience, an all important step for a sonic artist, taking it's roots and extending out from Stockhausen/Pierre Henry and utilised/warped/mangled by thousands of adventurous pioneers ever since, I now see the line separating the high brow and the low brow is actually an artery carrying information from the head to the heart.

Vault is a selection of these jams that precede each of my solo recording sessions, for 30 years I've recorded hundreds of these 'workouts'. They are never intended as serious statements, just moments of naive enjoyment, yet most importantly they are time & space captured as practice.

The objective is always a warm up exercise, but sometimes those exercises turn a different corner, with a certain focus or direction dependent on what random samples are left in my machines from the previous session, instead of conscious choices, these unconscious elements can facilitate those 'positive mistakes' that make a piece of sound retain a different feel or colour and thus become special, or at least special to the creator.

I am quite conscious that the 'record everything' aspect of my ethos has been invaluable in cataloguing and saving these jams, while the attitude of carelessness during this process (after all, it's only a warm up jam) invites more enjoyment than seriousness ever could. Even if you don't feel the piece at the time, record it, because some years later it may well fit, or become relevant in a way you never intended.

-Miles

"The grass is greener_ elsewhere_" Brain Damage told us with their debut album, released in 2002. Yet here, they've reached full maturity. Rarely has a "made in France" dub album strayed so far from the Jamaican model while still harboring, in every detail, so many references and tributes to the inventors of the style (King Tubby / Lee Perry), as well as to many of the key figures in its evolution (Tikiman / Rhythm & Sound, Dub Syndicate, etc.). The recording studio, 7/11 Laboratory, is used here as a true musical instrument. The optimal use of three-dimensional stereo effects will immerse the listener in soundscapes ranging from classic space echoes and Mont Blanc tunnel-style reverberations to crackles, electronic interference, exogenous samples, and other parasitic noises coming straight from Babylon. For this album, continuing in the vein of his previous collaborations with the international dub scene (Zion Train, Alpha & Omega, Disciples, Spectre, Lab°_), Brain Damage traveled to London to record two tracks at Conscious Sounds Studio with Jamaican-born singer Tena Stelin. With the melancholic "Spirit World," one is reminded of the fruitful collaborations between Massive Attack and Horace Andy, while on "Genetic Weapon," the tone becomes more overtly assertive. Two vocal tracks, then, woven into these ten compositions, where the emotional moods and atmospheres will shift with each listen. "Always Greener (On the Other Side)" emerges as the manifesto of music conceived as cinema for the ear...

The Montréal psych-ambient synth-droners return with Sequence Three, their first album in five years and the final instalment in the group's opening trilogy of records that began with Sequence One in 2019. The spectral supergroup co-founded by Stephen Ramsay (Young Galaxy) and Jace Lasek (The Besnard Lakes), usually joined in some capacity by Lasek's Besnard bandmate Olga Goreas, deliver another dose of its trademark longform slowburn jams, forged from restored vintage synths and analogue electronic gear. Lasek and Ramsay don their seasoned producer hats to apply rockist sound design to minimalist tracks, saturated with tube compression, drenched in pink and brown noise, all queasy modulation, sparse beats, and languorous melodic lines. Evoking a humid dawn on a gas giant, these alien drone anthems meld the numinous transcendentalism of Spiritualized and Cluster with the eroded grit of William Basinski and GAS. Light Conductor has been tagged "heavyweight analogue synth nirvana" by Uncut Magazine and praised for its "fabulous, epic, shimmeringly radiant kosmische" by Electronic Sound, among other accolades. Sequence Three consolidates these strengths, while leaning into the darker disquietude that has always been an undercurrent of Light Conductor's aesthetic. Opener "She Glitters The Dust" fades up slow with intertwining detuned synth loops, a languorous lullaby beat dropping at the 3-minute mark, accompanied by insectoid shimmers and a tease of melody that's eventually given free reign over the song's second half. Aptly titled, it's as if a transmission captured within a cosmic dust cloud has provided the raw material for the band to jam on, tease out, and terrestrialize. An echo of that beat sets the tranced pulse for "Omenize", the centerpiece of Side One and the fulfilment of Light Conductor's one-vocal-track-per-album directive. With layered harmonies by Goreas and Lasek, this is the group at its ethereally anthemic best, the devotional floating-in-space bliss attenuated by another gently warped denouement. "Ghost City Radio" closes out Side One with the band's most overtly anxious tune to date, deceptively stolid in its simple bass guitar riff and filter-swept hi-hat: groove stripped to its minimum as the foundation for an extended spokenword sample of a doomsaying prepper/preacher, a sort of homage to that early hallmark of their Godspeed compatriots, done up through the lens of Light Conductor's inimitably destabilized celestial ambience. (Lasek mixed the most recent two GY!BE albums.) Side Two offers up "High In The Orange Air", a beatless, squelching, bubbling ostinato drone and the album's most orthodox ambient kosmische track. This provides the set and setting for 15-minute closer "Supercontinent", which starts off in similar territory but gradually yields to a submerged and reversed techno pulse pumping through coruscated chordal drone, gaining in woozy mesmeric psych intensity over its inexorable hypnagogic trajectory. Sequence Three rounds out a satisfying trio of full-lengths that Light Conductor has released on Constellation, featuring vibrantly minimal geometric cover art designed by label co-founder Ian Ilavsky that integrates the trilogy as a visual series as well. In keeping with the previous two albums in the set, the Deluxe 180gLP includes a 12"x24" art poster. Thanks for listening.

Jason Dungan (aka Blue Lake) and Johan Carøe find beauty in the rhythms
and repetitions of domestic life for collaborative album, 'Routine' - out September 25

Copenhagen-based multi-instrumentalists Jason Dungan and Johan Carøe didn't set out to make an album. Instead, as the title 'Routine' suggests, they found their way there through a process of habitual making and listening, developing an intuitive musical language to reflect the dreamlike meanderings and creative play of life's quiet moments. 'Routine' blends pop orientated sounds, Avant-garde minimalism, folk and new age with the emotive depth of film-score.

Their meeting was not entirely coincidental. Previously in bands such as Squares and Triangles, Jason Dungan has since recorded multiple albums under the moniker Blue Lake, including the lauded 'Sun Arcs', pursuing his passion for self-built percussion and multi-string instruments. Johan Carøe meanwhile is a composer whose film soundtrack work has seen him collaborate with Angelo Badalamenti, Arp, and Sofie Birch, at whose Andersabo residency (curated by Dungan) the pair first met, resulting in the highly praised album 'Repair Techniques' written by Birch and Carøe.

'Routine' emerged organically over many years against the backdrop of great personal change. As Carøe said goodbye to his father and welcomed his first child, the pair sent each other fragments of melodies and patterns, working up responses when time allowed to assemble a sonic palette that combined acoustic instrumentation of zither, clarinet, cello, saxophone (among others) with the textures of tape, drum machine and Yamaha DX7 synth. Inspired by the vulnerability and DIY ethos of Arthur Russell's home recordings, the vision of labels like Disques de Crepescule, and the art pop, experimentation inherent to late '70s and early '80s recordings from NYC and Japan alike, Dungan and Carøe conjured new forms for their folk, leftfield pop and avant garde influences from the low-lit living rooms of Copenhagen and rural Sweden. "I'm very interested in the ways in which music and art emerge from our wider experiences as people, workers, parents and in the daydreaming activity of making music," Dungan explains of a process which allowed the duo's individual styles to drift apart and merge together seamlessly. "I think the process was definitely capturing moments in time, but over a long time," Carøe adds. "It was a bit like improvisation, but with time stretched."

The music floats with grace and humility, remaining sophisticated yet acutely introverted.
Whether on 'Clouds', where soft layers of zither and clarinet are moved along by a featherlight bass riff and the hypnotic clip-clop of the primitive groovebox, or the gentle grandeur of cello rising and falling through 'Routine 1', the album reveals itself over 10 instrumental tracks, evoking the ineffable calm that descends when the light changes and the world turns inwards. The act of time passing became a key creative ingredient to the evolution of the album, enriched with the exciting challenge to transform their passing rounds of home recordings via a slow release musical dialogue. Jason found creative moments in the twilight hours to lay down zither, melodica, acoustic guitar to name but few, while Johan utilising "line-in and headphones" would manipulate, stretch and pitch Jason's melodic pathways during newly born naptimes.

Carøe rhythmically plucks and slides the stringed cello instrument, leaving palpable foundations on 'Hymn' and 'Chords', in a treated, stylistic approach akin to Mabe Fratti, while 'Silence' draws to a close with a gospel touch. Dungan's harp-motion zither flourishes reveal more classical connotations on 'Reunion' with inspiration of Bedroom Community's Nico Muhly as organs rise with Moogs, culminating with a climatic choral outro from friend, mezzo-soprano Anna Caroline Olesen.

'Routine' then is their first collaboration, an album of deep and sincere reflection with inviting overtones that gesture with unrushed authenticity. A document of a new-found friendship that opens a window into the most personal of spaces, where the daily practices of music and life exist side-by-side to wondrous effect.

Pressure is the medium of wind players. Wind instruments all sound thanks to pressure differentials, whether that’s the rush of wind over a lip plate or a steady, buzzing exhalation through pursed lips. Ka Baird and Chris Ryan Williams (HxH) are wind players well- schooled in the power of using pressure and movement to amplify the mystery of an invisible force animating a metal tube. They augment their instruments, flute and trumpet respectively, with electronics, sometimes obscuring the acoustic sound source, sometimes making it hyperreal. Flutters of lip and tongue slither over the listener’s ear, and sustained tones become a dense fog, pushing on other kinds of visceral, emotional pressure points.

On Enthalpy, Baird and Williams’ first album as a duo, the energy they conjure feels barely contained, the pressure built up to a breaking point before spilling out in multiple directions at various speeds. They borrow the title from thermodynamics, referring to the total energy of a system based on its pressure and volume. The music flies out in bursts; it seeps and oozes, flows with intention. It is an incredibly rhythmic work without any hint of meter, full of sounds that punctuate with the thud of a dart hitting a bullseye. Williams’ capability to conjure swirling atmospherics, as well as his remarkable ability to pull fragments of melody from the haze, fit puzzle-like into Baird’s exclamations and the eruption of electronics that often dovetail them. The duo draws on tones from nearly the entire range of human hearing, from nimble but bulbous throbs of sub-bass to pinprick flickers of ultra-high end.

The sessions that produced Enthalpy were completely improvised, showcasing a degree of mind-meld that belies each participant’s thrill at approaching the unknown. This isn’t a casual conversation, but an omnidirectional tangle that ties and reties itself into new knots as the album progresses. Williams and Baird have both become ubiquitous presences throughout the New York City experimental music communities, collaborating with innumerable others and learning how their unique approaches work in tandem with similarly expansive thinkers and players. Even in the album’s most spacious moments, there’s a tension between the feeling of being unmoored and yet completely locked in, like the abyss is just one more river to cross. They ford it together before moving on to the next idea in lock step.

For the listener, Enthalpy is often felt in the body as much as it reverberates within the ears. We’re tossed from side to side, made to shoulder the impact of detonating electronics, absorbing these sounds with the feet, gut, and crown. Baird reaches into the back of their throat for guttural growls, and we can almost feel the scratch. As we tread the border of the synthesthetic, it's a reminder of the physical nature of sound, that the space between our ears and the speakers is its own enthalpic system of energy conduction. Move with it, let it move you, and see how it feels.

Modi Bardo, an alumnus of Moonshine Recordings, is another who on the surface appears to be at the nascent era of their sound experiments, but in truth is a longtime explorer of outer realms of Dub.

There is much to mention here which can be uncovered with the correct keywords, but one of the early bright points would be Spacelings and Bassheads, the Detroit-based Psych duo Modi Bardo was half of, who although seemingly limited in the realms of recorded output (with only a compilation appearance each via the Electro visionaries Interdimensional Transmissions and Booty bass / Techno orientated Intuit-Solar) where in fact not-so-limited in the era in the way of public performance, even performing at the renowned Packard Plant renegades in the 90's with UR on occasion.

Forward to now, and Modi Bardo has created something that reaches for unknown territory in Dub. With an establishing A side that is deep and primordial in tone, a' la Challenger Deep and Babe Roots releases, this proves to be merely a fantastic tone setter for the B side, which seems to find a zone where Dub Techno, Half Time, and Autonomic DnB have not quite gleaned yet. Truly a record unlike any other, while somehow being an invaluable tool for DJ's exploring the links between the aforementioned sounds and even Dancehall and Jungle in the mix.

A must for all those chasing the evolution of dub reflective arts, and the adventurous DJ in general.

Stone Music returns with Into the Cosmic Forest, a deep and patient journey into open-air improvisation. The group was founded in 2022 by Tokio Hasegawa, a core member of the legendary Taj Mahal Travellers, and brings together a wide circle of musicians from Japan’s ambient and experimental scenes.

While the name is new, the spirit continues. Stone Music extends the free-form, site-responsive approach that defined Taj Mahal Travellers — music shaped by environment, duration, and collective awareness rather than fixed structure.

Into the Cosmic Forest consists of two long-form pieces, each exceeding 20 minutes, both recorded live outdoors. Side A was captured at Japan’s Off-Tone Festival. It unfolds slowly and organically — layers of voice, strings, electronics, wind instruments, and percussive textures gradually forming a shifting sonic landscape.

Side B was recorded on the grounds of Mithila Museum in the mountains of Niigata, an art space managed by Hasegawa himself. More intimate in atmosphere yet equally immersive, the piece centers on voice and subtle interplay, allowing space and silence to become part of the composition.

What you hear is direct and unpolished: air moving, sound resonating, musicians responding to each other and to their surroundings in real time.

Following tours in India during 2023–24, with performances in national museums and universities, Stone Music continues to explore music as shared space rather than spectacle.

Into the Cosmic Forest invites listeners into that space — unedited, unhurried, and fully alive.

Moving between lo-fi experimental songwriting, sparse post-punk textures and intimate recordings; Ukrainian artist Regina Collage’s new album ‘Horizont’ is a personal and honest document of rebuilding a life and creative voice in Bristol. The record holds space for themes of burnout, quiet shame, tenderness and the courage of staying emotionally open when the world feels unstable. Sung entirely in Ukrainian, ‘Horizont’ does not ask the listener to understand every word. Feeling carries the songs forward. Across bedroom recordings and borrowed studios, Regina moves between cloudy dissonance and stark minimal arrangements built around bass, fragments of guitar, and an exposed voice. The recordings hold onto their rough edges. Mistakes remain and imperfection becomes part of the story. “Music for me is about not being scared to be vulnerable,” Regina says. “Almost every song I have is about what it means to be open and emotional. I really do not think it is a weakness. I hope people can listen and feel welcome to take a break and just let their emotions exist.” The album takes its name from the Ukrainian word for “horizon,” that unreachable line where sky meets earth. For Regina, the horizon became a quiet metaphor for living with distance and uncertainty. Inspired by one of her collage artworks showing a figure lying in grass and staring toward that far line, the title track reflects a feeling of moving toward something that never quite comes closer. Even without understanding the lyrics, the song carries a slow sense of longing and suspended arrival. m‘Vpiznavaty’, by contrast, initially feels almost light. Beneath that surface is a candid portrait of burnout and depressive exhaustion. The song looks at those moments when even greeting friends feels overwhelming. It captures the quiet embarrassment of withdrawing from people you care about, and the slow recognition that sometimes stepping away is simply how you survive. Other songs reveal different sides of the same emotional landscape. ‘Weak’ strips everything back to bass, a hint of guitar, and a bare vocal. Written and recorded in a single instinctive session, the track circles around the idea that softness might be its own kind of strength. Repetitive and intentionally unpolished, it quietly sets the tone for the whole record. Running through ‘Horizont’ is the reality of Regina’s life between Ukraine and the UK. Her hometown Kharkiv continues to face attacks, and many of her friends remain on the front line.

After meeting and working with Janko Nilovic - the extraordinary French library maestro - on a new album, while traveling and performing together around the world for almost 10 years, Igor Zhukovsky & Romeo Miussky - the multi-instrumentalist production duo, and rhythm core of The Soul Surfers - were inspired to make a record of free, spiritual, esoteric sounds which blended together on tape and made Sound Excitement happen.Drawing on their experience as soundtrack composers and using heavyweight Soviet analog equipment, including a few vintage personal instruments belonging to some legends of the Soviet leftfield music scene, Igor & Romeo started experimenting with genre-blending music. The outcome of their recordings are a mixed bag of different moods and genres."It's something similar to a library record or more like a compilation of many different library records on one LP for a good decade if you know what I mean? It's the work which we're really excited about and excited to share with you! ...oh that's hell of a wordplay!"

British composer Simon Goff interprets space, both within ourselves and the objects that surround us with Interior Realms - vol.1; a wondrous, contemplative work of electronic chamber music.

The idea first came from the philosophical idea underpinning the book Interior Realms, published by Theatrum Mundi in 2021. In it, a collection of essays reflects upon architecture’s influence on the human spirit. It challenges us to think not only about music as space, but also about how architecture can shape our ideas of composition. It also asks us to think about how space can make us experience music internally differently.

Interior Realms, the album, inhabits this idea and creates a dreamlike, atmospheric arch between its outer and inner parts. Joyous, immense and light-filled compositions sits side by side with the almost pure silence and introspect of its inner core. Goff wanted to create parallel compositional voices, performing them in various locations, each offering its own sonic character, unique spatial sounds, and reverb. Together with his long-time collaborator, Lynn Wright, the album was recorded in the Großer Wasserspeicher, Berlin's oldest water tower, and at the Grunewaldkirche, a location known amongst others from being the birthplace of many great works by artists such as Nils Frahm, Dustin O´Halloran and more. Cellist Anne Müller appears alongside Goff’s violin and viola on several pieces as they improvised and interacted with each other in the resonance of the space.

In addition to his own endeavors, Simon composes primarily for film and has collaborated with Hildur Guðnadóttir, Jóhann Jóhannsson and Peter Broderick among others. His collaborators has left an inspiring mark on him, all while standing firmly on his own feet with grand intention and results as heard on this absolutely brilliant atmospheric work.

For this second EP, Void Control continues to explore the relationship between rhythm, space, and low-frequency energy. Each track is built around movement and atmosphere, combining organic percussion, spacious dub textures, and weighty sub frequencies.

Drawing influence from reggae sound system culture, tribal rhythms, dub techno, and contemporary bass music, the release exists at the intersection of multiple underground traditions. Rather than treating these influences as separate genres, Void Control allows them to interact naturally, creating a cross-pollination of sounds that feels both familiar and forward-thinking.

150 White coloured vinyl, hand stamped and stickered with inlay.

American experimental composer Stephen O’Malley releases Avaeken, two sides of immense, immersive, self-annihilating music via Dais Records.

The record preserves site-specific work: O’Malley installed Avaeken as part of Wish You Were Here, the exhibition by renowned American artist Banks Violette, underscoring the tension between presence and absence, life and loss.

O’Malley and Violette have developed a distinct language of sound, space, and sculpture over the past two decades, reverberating through the walls of world-class institutions from The Guggenheim and Centre Pompidou to prominent galleries such as Maureen Paley in London, Gladstone Gallery in NYC, and Antwerp’s TICK TACK, the brutalist space where Wish You Were Here unfolded in early 2026.

Emerging now as an LP, Avaeken presents power and phenomena: low-frequency vibrations, deep oscillations, and phase cancellations that translate as innately effective in any environment. Violette’s visual expression — the impossibility of locating yourself within the loss of a friend and the broader decay of culture — now fills the LP sleeve and feels inextricable from O’Malley’s sound, both still without resolution.

“Natural harmonic tone coloured by the valves of the amplification is the one desired characteristic,” reads the initial notes.

“At first I asked, why would I write for another guitar player?” he says. “I realized how amazing it is to be a listener on the other side of the music; together we were able to try all these precisions with intonation, harmonics, specific microtonal ideas.”

The quartet performed Avaeken several times before O’Malley joined them for a recording session at Muziekcentrum De Bijloke, a 13th-century former hospital with modern acoustics in Ghent.

Baby You’re A Winner’ is a perfect illustration of the elevated musicality of the album that bears its name. Linking up across the record’s twelve tracks with producer Ali Chant (PJ Harvey, Perfume Genius, Yard Act), Baby You’re A Winner showcases a real levelling up for Grandmas House: more layered and involved than their trio of previous EPs - Grandmas House (2021), Who Am I (2023), Anything For You (2025) - with a greater focus on the use of vocals and harmonies to embolden the meticulously crafted arrangements.

It’s the sound of the quartet - Yasmin Berndt (guitar, vocals), Poppy Dodgson (vocal, drums), Zoë Zinsmeister (bass, vocals) and Polly Jessett (guitar) - bringing a greater sense of nuance and space to their music, while deploying myriad genres to maximum effect. From the righteous, elasticated rock of recent single ‘DOG’ to the syncopated post-punk and brass blasts of ‘Dance’ and on to the chamber folk ambiance of closer ‘Spring’, Baby You’re A Winner is the most authentic, realised portrait of Grandmas House to date.

The songs here navigate a precarious balancing act between sadness and catharsis, ultimately landing in a place of salvation - the product of the band’s tight-knit friendship, this album is their gift to the world, born from a period of grief and hardship but emerging from the other side with profound love and strength. It’s a testament that even when the odds are against you, anyone can be a winner.

Leading Danish contemporary jazz label April Records is proud to present Well, actually..., the third album from Polish acoustic jazz quartet O.N.E. Grounded in the spirit of democracy andcollective improvisation, the album offers a tightly woven set of original compositions that blur the lines between modal jazz lyricism and the raw energy of free improvisation.The band name O.N.E. is a clever double entendre: in Polish, "one" (pronounced oh-neh) means "they" in the feminine plural - an apt nod to the all-female lineup. In English, of course, it signifies unity. Both meanings reflect the band"s egalitarian, leaderless approach and cohesive group sound.Almost three years after the recording of their previous release Entoloma(Audio Cave), the group reunited in December 2024 at Studio S4 in Warsaw to record a fresh set of ten compositions. Spread over two sides, the album captures the continued evolution of a band that thrives on interaction, trust, and shared purpose - even in a society fractured by post-pandemic socio-economic uncertainty and political ambiguity. Featuring contributions from all four members - pianist Kateryna Ziabliuk, saxophonist Monia Muc, bassist Kamila Drabek, and drummer Patrycja Wybranczyk - the recordreflects their commitment to artistic democracy. Each voice is given space, yet the music always feels greater than the sum of its parts. Even on the miniature solo track solo form, the other three players remain present, supportive, and responsive. From Ziabliuk"s percussive piano textures and dreamlike voicings on tracks like Osloand Berio, to Muc"s expressive, woody tone on alto and baritone sax, each piece explores dynamic interplay and shifting emotional landscapes. Drabek"s resonant, grounded bass - by turns lyrical and propulsive - provides a central thread, while Wybranczyk"s drumming fizzes with precision and imagination, as heard on Cipherand the angular closer Sneaking Around.Together, these four distinctive creative forces have developed a shared language built on mutual respect, long-term collaboration, and deep listening. Their concerts across Europe (including Jazzahead, B-Jazz, Umea, and the Edinburgh Jazz & Blues Festival) haveaffirmed their standing as a boundary-pushing group with something new to say.








f SOLO FORM






[f] b2 [SOLO FORM]






[f] b2 | [SOLO FORM]

Sophomore album by Brighton based multi-instrumentalist and vocalist, Marlon Bianco. Concept album with the A-side sticking firmly to terra firma and the flip blasting off into outta space. Psychedelic spacetronics mixed with soulful vocals and soundtrack sounds. Marlon is helped along his journey by his clones including SFJ's Oscar 'Sholto' Robertson, David Bardon (who both also produced it) and a host of other talented musicians: Dante Notar, Jonathan Chung, Laura Gallon and Federico Bersano.







[g] 07: Roboland (SFJ) [feat. SFJ]

A sequel to 2011's communication from our future selves on 'The Spectacle of Light Abductions', this new endeavour by restless netherzone  traveller Spencer Clark envisions a space map towards the other side of human life.

A meditation on the paintings  of Vedran Kopljar, these two side-long pieces, recorded and performed at Kopljar's exhibition at Muhka Museum in Antwerp in 2024, tap into the barren world inhabited by Clark while wandering what he calls the "Abomination Plateaus".

Searching for meaning amidst the landscape, 'Abyssfields' turns Clark's keyboards, sampler and wha pedals into sentient beings, roaming a luminous sound field of low res percussion, glistening keys and mangled voice-like transmissions. Featuring Athens-based John Also Bennet on flute, 'Abomination Plateaus' layered misty pads hover above a recurring driving-pinging loop, unlocking new harmonic spectres throughout each passage, suspended in the light. Always enveloping. 

A master class of shimmering, surrealistic '67 British psychedelia that is widely considered a holy grail of the genre and currently fetches huge prices in the collectors' market. 'Baby Your Phrasing is Bad' boldly rides the surging psychedelic wave that was about to crest in London that summer with swirling fuzz guitar, a spiraling solo, and a hazy, spaced-out vocal.First-ever legit reissue. Caleb Quaye only released one single in the sixties under his own name, but what a record it is! Released on Philips in June 1967, 'Baby Your Phrasing is Bad' boldly rides the surging psychedelic wave that was about to crest in London that summer with swirling fuzz guitar, a spiraling solo, and a hazy, spaced-out vocal. On the other side, 'A Woman of Distinction' is only fractionally less freaky with treated vocals and a short but gracefully-executed guitar solo. Contrary to hearsay, rumors and guesswork, it can be confirmed that Elton John did not play on the session. However, shortly afterwards, this same core lineup, with Caleb producing, recorded an album with Elton, "Regimental Sgt Zippo", a superb psychedelic pop work that remained unreleased until 2021.

HARTHBALL are an avant/noise/rock wrecking ball of a band from Nanaimo, Canada. Rooted in total improvisation, free expression, and a deeply psychedelic sensibility, EarthBall operate on pure instinct.
They hurtle onwards in a combustion of spontaneous composition, shooting from the hip, as they fall out of the sky ablaze. The group encompasses Isabel Ford (vocals, bass), John Brennan (drums, percussion), Jeremy Van Wyke (vocals, guitar, trumpet), Kellan Maclaughlin (guitar, talkbox), and Liam Murphy (saxophone). Each member brings a rich and varied musical history, with past and present projects including Shearing Pinx, Plan Your Future, Kamikaze Nurse, Eschatons, and Psychedelic Dirt. Collectively and individually, they have collaborated with artists such as Deerhoof, Raven Chacon, Chris Corsano, and William Hooker, deepening the band’s exploratory reach and collective language.
Since forming in 2021, EarthBall have released six cassettes and three fervently received LPs on Upset The Rhythm, including November’s widely acclaimed Outside Over There. Their latest release, Actual Earth Music - Volume 3 & 4, follows the first instalment in the series and captures two mind-quaking highlights from last winter’s European tour. This is EarthBall plunging to full fathom five, transforming into something rich and strange - channeling the fleeting moment as it fractures, erupts, and dissolves into the unknown.
Side A captures a thumping performance at Cave12 in Geneva. Frazzled from a white-knuckle alpine descent, the group settles into a hypnotic sprawl, stretching time and form across a colossal 53-minute set (with the first 22 minutes presented on the LP; the full performance appears on the CD edition). The Cave12 recording is a study in tension and release; ruminative, volatile, and barely contained. Drums stumble and surge, saxophone howls cut through the air, and Ford and Van Wyke’s voices briefly pull together the circle twice, before the tumult lapses into a spinning maelstrom.
Side B meanwhile presents a scorched excerpt from EarthBall’s crushing performance at Le Guess Who? Festival. As Van Wyke reflects: “Having the most excellent Dwarfs of East Agouza play before us only heightened our intention to bring the noise. Listening back, the thing that strikes me most is how we truly were operating in the ever-elusive but always sought-after ‘group mind’. Ninety-degree changes are super tight. Izzy and I are finishing each other’s sentences. Liam’s horn is cradling our outer and inner space. Kellan’s talk box rains down like the voice of a reawakened spirit, and all this havoc is safely stowed in the rumbling ox-cart of John’s solid drumming”.
Actual Earth Music - Volume 3 & 4 marks another ascent in EarthBall’s ever-expanding, totemic discography, an ecstatic storm of raw immediacy and unfiltered expression.

Somewhere between the after-hours haze and the first flicker of sunrise, Nebraska re-emerges - this time with a twist in the signal. Long respected for his deep-cut sensibilities and dancefloor intuition, Ali Gibbs returns to Delusions Of Grandeur not just as Nebraska, but with a handover to his new alias: Dubl Drat. The Alter Alter Ego EP plays like a transmission from both sides of his creative psyche - one rooted in warm, groove-led house and disco mutations, the other drifting deeper into dubbed-out, heady abstraction.

The A-side opens with Alter Alter Ego in its Nebraska OG Mix form - a crunchy, funked-up mid-tempo burner. Chopped Rhodes solos flicker in and out of the mix while a rolling bassline locks into a low-slung groove - equal parts party-starter and late-night dancefloor hypnosis. Next, The Teckel Track slides the tempo down into a proper slo-mo four-on-the-floor bumpy groove. Fat stabs punch through layers of glitchy FX while a melodic bassline snakes underneath, forming a hazy, infectious earworm tailor-made for those early-night mood-setting sessions. Closing the A-side, Olive (Dubl Drat Dub) signals a shift. Here, Gibbs leans fully into his Dubl Drat persona, dissolving structure into a blissed-out dub excursion.

Chopped breaks scatter across the stereo field, chiming melodies echo into the distance, and granulated percussion parts build a dense, immersive landscape - one to get lost in rather than dance through. Flipping over we have Alter Alter Ego (Dubl Drat Remix) which reconfigures the title track into a stripped-back boogie workout. The groove is leaner but no less potent, driven by a killer bassline and punctuated with signature Rhodes licks - pure, understated club pressure. Finally, Olive (Nebraska Version) offers a gentle comedown. This alternate take softens the edges, introducing additional guitar textures that drift into Balearic territory. It’s nostalgic, introspective, and quietly expansive - a closing chapter that lingers long after the last note fades. The Alter Alter Ego EP isn’t just a new release - it’s a dual-state exploration, a conversation between rhythm and space, between Nebraska and Dubl Drat, and marks the last ever Nebraska release as Ali closes the chapter and the alias for the final time.

The mighty Channel One Studios,Kingston, Jamaica, has its place set in Reggae's Musical History.Its distinctive sound the studio created on opening its doors in 1972 to its closure in the early 1980's made it the Producers, Singers and Musicians studio of choice during this furtive period. Achieving that vibe and clarity, separated it from the other Kingston establishments.

Run by the Hookim Family's four sons, Jo Jo the eldest followed by Paulie, Ernest and Kenneth. Their father originally came from China and married a Chinese Jamaican lady and settled in the St Andrews district before moving to Kingston Town itself. The family business was built on jukeboxes and one armed bandit machines in and around Kingston. A lucrative venture until the gaming laws changed in 1970, outlawing the gaming machines. So the music side of the business would have to be expanded. So it was decided to open a studio to make the music to supply their already established Jukebox enterprise. The four brothers opened Channel One Recording Studios in 1972 at 29 Maxfield Avenue, Kingston 13. Initially as we stated the purpose of the studio was for the brothers use only, but this would soon change when the various Producers all looking for that Channel One sound came asking for studio time.

The brothers had used the services of Bill Garnet a renowned and well respected technical engineer on setting up the studio. They spent a lot of time laying out the space to get the right acoustics and picking the right quipment. They went with a four track API desk and the best quality microphones such as Neuman, Sony and AKG, vital in obtaining the quality sound and track separation that would prove so worthwhile after the music was recorded to give the best flexibility on the final mix downs. Jo Jo would take over the production duties after the initial hiring of Syd Bucknor a producer who had worked closely with Coxonne Dodds Studio 1 stable. The first release on the Channel One label would be 'Don't Give Up The Fight' by Stranger Cole and Gladstone 'Gladdy' Anderson.The initial two thousand run being swallowed up by their Jukebox interests and so the steady flow of hits would run up to the brake through hit of 1975 'Right Time' by  the Mighty Diamonds.

1977 saw Jo Jo extending his stays in New York to a semipermanent status, returning mainly to oversee recording sessions and then taking the results back to America for worldwide distribution. His brother Paulies senseless killing in that year also added to Jo Jo's decision to spend more time with his Hit Bound Manufacturing set up in New York. The Channel One studio would be upgraded in 1979 to sixteen tracks and although Jo Jo and Ernest still covered the mixing and engineering duties Kenneth would now supervise sessions. An often untold part of Channel Ones history is the involvement of Producer Niney The Observer. The mid to late 1970's were heavy times both musically and politically and Maxfield Avenue was in the heart of this crossfire. Some artists and musicians were weary of using the establishment especially when sessions ended late at night and exiting the studio at these times could be somewhat dangerous. But Niney’s fearlessness seen him over running and in many cases running the all night sessions with his trusted set of musicians loosely called The Soul Syndicate. Having the run of the mighty Channel One studio's allowed Niney to build up and work on a stockpile of rhythms that he still has yet to unleash on the world. We have been lucky to select a bunch of material from Niney's vaults for this release. Some great unreleased rhythms and some different cuts to some tracks you might already know. Niney's work with Dennis Brown and his own distinctive heavy roots style productions have been documented and indeed his work on Channel Ones Yellowman releases stand tall also. We hope this fine set of Niney Productions set inside the hollowed walls of Channel One will sit beside them as they so richly deserve.

The Flaming Sideburns' debut album remastered 25th anniversary edition out in June via Svart Records In the beginning of the new Millennium, The Flaming Sideburns were getting ready to record our first proper album. First we rented Ismo Alanko’s old rehearsal room in Otaniemi, Espoo, and turned it into a recording facility. Old analog tape recorders, vintage microphones, a Space Echo unit, and other top equipment were brought in directly from Berlin, Germany by the album’s producer, Jürgen Hendlmeier. As producer Jürgen Hendlmeier recalls the final steps of the sessions: “Fact is, when we mastered the record at Seawolf Studios we had no real idea what to do with this equipment. We just wanted to make it louder and louder – that was all we wanted. We wanted to go to twelve instead of eleven.” When Hallelujah Rock’n’Rollah was first released, it did not sound as “natural” as it had originally been planned to be – but the album was a huge success for the band nevertheless. For this remastered edition, Hendlmeier dug deep enough to finally find the files containing all the original mixes. The album’s producer then remastered the album himself, and the end result is far more convincing. Compared to the original version—which is already very good—the album now feels as if it has been completely remixed for the better. As a bonus, on the original album some of the songs were edited shorter, but now all of them appear in their original length. -Eduardo Martinez

The Flaming Sideburns' debut album remastered 25th anniversary edition out in June via Svart Records In the beginning of the new Millennium, The Flaming Sideburns were getting ready to record our first proper album. First we rented Ismo Alanko’s old rehearsal room in Otaniemi, Espoo, and turned it into a recording facility. Old analog tape recorders, vintage microphones, a Space Echo unit, and other top equipment were brought in directly from Berlin, Germany by the album’s producer, Jürgen Hendlmeier. As producer Jürgen Hendlmeier recalls the final steps of the sessions: “Fact is, when we mastered the record at Seawolf Studios we had no real idea what to do with this equipment. We just wanted to make it louder and louder – that was all we wanted. We wanted to go to twelve instead of eleven.” When Hallelujah Rock’n’Rollah was first released, it did not sound as “natural” as it had originally been planned to be – but the album was a huge success for the band nevertheless. For this remastered edition, Hendlmeier dug deep enough to finally find the files containing all the original mixes. The album’s producer then remastered the album himself, and the end result is far more convincing. Compared to the original version—which is already very good—the album now feels as if it has been completely remixed for the better. As a bonus, on the original album some of the songs were edited shorter, but now all of them appear in their original length. -Eduardo Martinez

Every so often in music, we come across voices that achieve a certain timelessness, so naturally do they encapsulate both past and present. Laure Briard is one of these voices, retro in form but contemporary at heart, spanning a career rich in aesthetic twists and turns, never without her signature magic, a special kind of eternal filter. Her first album, Révélation (2015), reveals her yé-yé influences, a testament to her love for ‘60s French pop music. Her second studio album, Sur la piste de danse (2016), follows in this vein and finds Laure accompanied as always by her long-time bandmates who share an affinity for warm, catchy arrangements that never lose their appeal. Her tour of Brazil marks a turning point in her career, introducing her to the local indie scene and thus launching her collaboration with the band Boogarins, as well as inspiring the release of multiple EPs composed and performed in Portuguese. Today, her music is embellished by touches of bossa nova and a folk sensibility, boasting increasingly intricate arrangements, as exemplified by her 2019 release, Un peu plus d'amour s'il vous plaît. Several years later, the Californian desert captures the musician’s imagination with Ne pas trop rester bleue, a poignant musical journey inspired by the rich history of Western legends and the role they play in shaping our collective consciousness.

In Voyage Mental, Laure Briard draws upon an inner energy unearthed during a new stage in her life, where the thrill of spontaneous adventure is not accessible in quite the same way. The result is a collection of sophisticated, introspective songs, narrating a young mother’s quest for balance in the face of routine. The album, nostalgic but always tethered to the present moment, is also the fruit of her collaboration with Gaëtan Nonchalant, a talented musician known for coaxing poetry out of the mundane. The two of them co-wrote and recorded five tracks at Studio Nocturne, accompanied by her long-time sidekick Pieuvre, aka Vincent Guyot, Léo Blomov, Pierre-Louis Vizioz, and Hedi Bensalem. The gentle pop opener “Rocking Chair” sways steadily to the rhythm of dynamic drums, followed by “Train,” a ballad that extends an invitation to set sail and daydream alone. The folk escapade continues with “Golden Sun,” a duet featuring the 1960s cult American musician F.J. McMahon, who Laure contacted via the internet on a whim. “Golden Sun” is an unlikely encounter between two generations and two cultures, giving new life to an old forgotten demo on the other side of the Atlantic. And while Laure sings of wide open spaces, cowboys, and sunsets sinking into the sea, we feel the city surrounding her in “Miroir,” a song composed by Hedi Bensalem that laments the suffocation of living in a crowded metropolis where the sky is a distant gray smudge. This pressing need for air, this search for rest and total disconnection, is one of the album's central themes. It may also explain the ever-present sense of nostalgia that pervades the songs, a welcome respite in our current era of doomscrolling and darkness. Along the way, Laure soothes us with melancholy guitar, delivers poetry set to scattered piano notes, and takes us by the hand during lively, uptempo passages. We climb onto her wings, never straying too far from the ground, soaring joyfully above her moods.

妖精の通る道 (The Path Where Fairies Pass) is the debut vinyl release by Reimaki, the duo of Rei Yokoyama (Triggers Flowers, Stakaidan, Lapiz Trio, 新井薬師自警団, and Fujio, Chiko Hige and Rei), and Maki Miura (Tsubamegami, Les Rallizes Dénudés, Shizuka, Fushitsusha, Ohkami No Jikan and Katsurei). The duo has been an understated presence in Tokyo, playing occasional under-the-radar shows and self- releasing a few CD-Rs, but they’ve recently started to break cover, with a recent cassette on UFO Creations, released in support of a late 2024 tour of China. It’s also a welcome reappearance on the scene for both musicians; Miura’s musical history, in particular, is being reevaluated thanks to a recent string of welcome Shizuka reissues.

But the music Reimaki make together is a different thing entirely, much as it shares some psychological and aesthetic interests with both Miura’s and Nokoyama’s other projects. Their sound is split between two main interests – an extension of glacial, deoxygenating psychedelic improvisations, and a deep interest in medieval European music. They’ve also been known to cover compositions by English prog/improv musician Fred Frith. These various elements of the Reimaki aesthetic are all present through 妖精の通る道, from the fragility of the opening “Novel Amor” through to the smeared, hazy textures of the three extended pieces that comprise the album’s flipside.

There’s a beautiful sympathy in these performances, and a generous simplicity, too; you can sense that this music is informed by decades of finding just the right way to say the right thing in the clearest manner possible. Yokoyama and Miura never overstate things; make the statement, play the song, let it hang in the air for a while, and then move on to the next essential expression. The music is unburdened by self- consciousness. Their take on medieval music cuts to the core of melody and melancholy; their psych- improv side is blurred and drifting without ever lapsing into rote generic gestures.

There’s some shared space with other artists who suspend the timeless within the kaleidoscopic possibilities of the psychedelic – Kendra Smith & The Guild of Temporal Adventurers; Emmanuelle Parrenin; Rosina de Peira – and a tangled folksiness that might put listeners in mind of Jan Dukes De Grey, Comus, Current 93, and Tower Recordings. Accompanied by beautiful photography from street photographer Takehiko Nakafuji, who was also personally chosen by Mizutani to document Les Rallizes Dénudés, 妖精の通る道 is a most unique and necessary trip.

Maybe it was inevitable that Vilhelm Bromander and Fredrik Rasten would find each other. A symbiotic musical alliance of suggestive combinatory magic that stretches back to the interstitial two day space that separates their dates of birth and manifests here as the movement between ‘perfect’ or ‘just’ intonation and the ragged, psychoactive energy of the slippages from and towards that togetherness that render otherwise simple patterns or generally understood repetitions as wildly other and alive.

Astral Twins shares ‘twin’ works by each composer. The patiently unfolding real time retuning of Fredrik Rasten’s guitars on the a-side’s Sojourns and Vilhelm Bromander’s quickened steps and spry looping melodies on the flip’s Partially Dancing.

Both artists have history of going deep into the aesthetic and acoustic impact of intonation (how you think about what is ‘in tune’). Where their first LP (...for some reason that escapes us, 2019, Differ Records) shared a gorgeous set of sustained tone colour fields, this time they lean more explicitly into the folk music traditions of Scandinavia and further afield, whilst echoing the zoned minimalist atmosphere of Arthur Russell’s classic Instrumentals.

Recorded up close and in real time at Fylkingen’s soon-to-be-abandoned temporary location in Stockholm’s southern suburb of Bredäng, Astral Twins sings with the possibility that one plus one can equal more than two.

Fredrik Rasten:
 Sojourns explores the live retuning of guitar and double bass in a sequence of just intonation harmonies. A guitar ostinato runs throughout the piece where the retuning becomes an integral part of the composition. The slow pace reveals every detail in the transition from one harmonic arpeggio to another — how interfering waves emerge and disappear as the tonal interactions settle in electric clarity. The double bass shadows the guitar's process and comments with occasional pizzicato tones and register jumps, at times providing a low foundation for the sound and sometimes soaring together with the guitar. This is music that is deeply listening; experimental and at the same time humbly inviting many kinds of being with sound.

Vilhelm Bromander: 
As the title suggests, this song has a partially dancing character. The title also has a double meaning with reference to the partials and harmonics that dance together. The basic idea was to write music in just intonation that instead of being drone-based is reminiscent of a lightly dancing folk music, where the joyous feeling of just being in the music — “musicking" — is allowed to lead the way.

The double bass plays repeated overtone double stops in an open harmonic progression with subtle modulations that is inspired in equal parts by Steve Lacy's persistent repetition of phrases as east-asian khaen music. The guitars and mandolin have a freer role, with plucked retuned strings that enhance the bass's modulations and provide forward movement. The music invites to both melodic and spectral listening, suddenly halting so that other focal points can reveal themselves. For example, a chord sequence suddenly transitions to a more spectral part where Fredrik is playing a bowed guitar with a chain, several plucking guitars, voices, and pitch pipes. I wanted to make something ‘orchestral’ with just two people and no overdubs: a dance of overtones and open resonant strings, where we seamlessly take turns standing in the foreground.

Just as you were getting your head straight coming off the 21st Trip … Brown Acid dose # 22 drops, continuing to fry your mind in a revolving trap-door Twilight Zone alternate world of early hard rock… populated by real life characters so far out they can look like a cheesy wedding band but sound like Blue Cheer! Uncanny! This music comes at you from many angles. Teens in a garage colliding with booze, drugs and girls for the first time, lounge lizard hustlers with snazzy stage clothes and fuzz boxes… gnarly backwoods troublemakers meet blow dried glam rock wannabes here, seamlessly clobbering your head with sound rather than each other! An electric post-psychedelic bar brawl for your mind awaits, unfasten your seat belt, crank it up and fly! Sounds Synonymous "Babylon" out of Flint, Michigan 1969 rip the devastating Blue Cheer classic a new one, immediately swarming you with organ swells and distortion before collapsing into a tuff funk groove, a psychedelic James Brown vibe shot through with dirty howling fuzz guitar, vocals nailing the messed up but confident relaxed sneering attitude of the original Cheer eruption. The Bumps "Shining" from Seattle 1969 resides right at the transition of ‘60s psych into early prog, well constructed, no diluting things artsy fartsy style, a compelling heavy riff, spacious vocal harmony hook floating above a turbulent take on getting your shit together and shining like a star. Fat chance, but you can dream, the band did and their dreams kick ass across time to right now or you wouldn’t be here.

Coulda been a hit back then, definitely a hit now. Riverside "Farmer" explodes out of Austin, Texas 1974, economical but brilliantly structured riffs and power chords, intense dynamic tension/release, fantastic screaming leads over shifting angles of attack during the middle break… it’s all here with a detached confidence in the vocal that swaggers back in time to the late ‘60s in its proto-heavy psych adjacent assault. Cincinnati Joe & Mad Lydia "Get It Together" for real in Cincinnati, Ohio 1970. The song says everything you need to know: “You may think that you’re the very best, miles and miles ahead of the rest, but be sure when you’re put to the test you get it together!” These words are deployed in a manner similar to Peter Green’s “Oh Well”, intermittently stated between killer gnarly guitar and gushy organ attacks. Bar band heaven and hell rolled up into one big ball, the vocals get all the way out there! Straight Up "Fire" takes the monster 1968 Crazy World Of Arthur Brown hit into faithfully executed but surreally minimalist territory, Minneapolis, Minnesota 1974. Genius version of a key song that presciently cuts to the chase regarding Brown Acid’s incinerations of psychedelic idealism, you’re gonna burn, burn, burn… as that moment climaxes you can gawk at their preposterous flashy lounge band stage outfits and realize side one must end because everything is totally scorched into eternity. Scrap Iron "Poopsie" is a primitive two chord stomper with spiraling fuzz and organ riffs, singer marking his territory caveman style. “Poopsie, you’re my woman” he commands, but gets weirdly insecure she’ll blow him off at the altar by the end of each verse. Snarly wah-wah ices this toxic cake out of Carteret, New Jersey 1973. Focused delivery so single-mindedly crude it creates an inescapable instant brain-worm. Lady "Live Show Tigers" is amongst the most potently life affirming trash rockers you’ll ever hear, one outrageously triumphant but fiercely sloppy anthem about living it up like a star, strutting the stage glammed up New York Dolls drag style but with a Dictators sense of humor. Tasty slightly off kilter guitar leads all through, going serendipitously berserk on the fade. Picture disc single out of L.A. 1980. Fantastic fun rock star rock at a very raw local street level where any time is party time.

Killer Frog "Hard Times" on Masochist Records from Chicago, Illinois 1972 takes less than two minutes, an action packed James Gang style bar band rocker with a bit of punky sneer in the face of misfortune. These guys never even heard of flower power. They are killer frogs. Good Humore "Killer" does kill in stripped down hard rock trio style, Warren, Michigan 1976. No frills guitar, bass and drums groove tight, snaky primordial riff, snarly licks. “She’s a killer of a woman, knows just what she’s doing…” The singer knows she’s a femme-fatale roadhouse predator but she’s so hot the inevitable wreckage seems a bargain. Ride it out like the extended jam on the fade knowing she’ll be back for more! Sarawest "Space Rider" winds up the 22nd Trip lost in a twisted two chord space adventure from the point of view of an alien visiting our planet seeking knowledge but finding out we are stupidly destroying ourselves, so he gotta split sneering back at us like we wasted his time “I got no time for loving… I wanna be a space rider, space rider”. Toronto, Canada 1974, a vibe lurking in some strange but funny void between late ‘60s outsider garage psychedelic rock complete with reverb-y acid guitar leads and late ‘70s retro-futuristic D.I.Y wisecracking from inner space… taking the piss out of outer space!

Just as you were getting your head straight coming off the 21st Trip … Brown Acid dose # 22 drops, continuing to fry your mind in a revolving trap-door Twilight Zone alternate world of early hard rock… populated by real life characters so far out they can look like a cheesy wedding band but sound like Blue Cheer! Uncanny! This music comes at you from many angles. Teens in a garage colliding with booze, drugs and girls for the first time, lounge lizard hustlers with snazzy stage clothes and fuzz boxes… gnarly backwoods troublemakers meet blow dried glam rock wannabes here, seamlessly clobbering your head with sound rather than each other! An electric post-psychedelic bar brawl for your mind awaits, unfasten your seat belt, crank it up and fly! Sounds Synonymous "Babylon" out of Flint, Michigan 1969 rip the devastating Blue Cheer classic a new one, immediately swarming you with organ swells and distortion before collapsing into a tuff funk groove, a psychedelic James Brown vibe shot through with dirty howling fuzz guitar, vocals nailing the messed up but confident relaxed sneering attitude of the original Cheer eruption. The Bumps "Shining" from Seattle 1969 resides right at the transition of ‘60s psych into early prog, well constructed, no diluting things artsy fartsy style, a compelling heavy riff, spacious vocal harmony hook floating above a turbulent take on getting your shit together and shining like a star. Fat chance, but you can dream, the band did and their dreams kick ass across time to right now or you wouldn’t be here.

Coulda been a hit back then, definitely a hit now. Riverside "Farmer" explodes out of Austin, Texas 1974, economical but brilliantly structured riffs and power chords, intense dynamic tension/release, fantastic screaming leads over shifting angles of attack during the middle break… it’s all here with a detached confidence in the vocal that swaggers back in time to the late ‘60s in its proto-heavy psych adjacent assault. Cincinnati Joe & Mad Lydia "Get It Together" for real in Cincinnati, Ohio 1970. The song says everything you need to know: “You may think that you’re the very best, miles and miles ahead of the rest, but be sure when you’re put to the test you get it together!” These words are deployed in a manner similar to Peter Green’s “Oh Well”, intermittently stated between killer gnarly guitar and gushy organ attacks. Bar band heaven and hell rolled up into one big ball, the vocals get all the way out there! Straight Up "Fire" takes the monster 1968 Crazy World Of Arthur Brown hit into faithfully executed but surreally minimalist territory, Minneapolis, Minnesota 1974. Genius version of a key song that presciently cuts to the chase regarding Brown Acid’s incinerations of psychedelic idealism, you’re gonna burn, burn, burn… as that moment climaxes you can gawk at their preposterous flashy lounge band stage outfits and realize side one must end because everything is totally scorched into eternity. Scrap Iron "Poopsie" is a primitive two chord stomper with spiraling fuzz and organ riffs, singer marking his territory caveman style. “Poopsie, you’re my woman” he commands, but gets weirdly insecure she’ll blow him off at the altar by the end of each verse. Snarly wah-wah ices this toxic cake out of Carteret, New Jersey 1973. Focused delivery so single-mindedly crude it creates an inescapable instant brain-worm. Lady "Live Show Tigers" is amongst the most potently life affirming trash rockers you’ll ever hear, one outrageously triumphant but fiercely sloppy anthem about living it up like a star, strutting the stage glammed up New York Dolls drag style but with a Dictators sense of humor. Tasty slightly off kilter guitar leads all through, going serendipitously berserk on the fade. Picture disc single out of L.A. 1980. Fantastic fun rock star rock at a very raw local street level where any time is party time.

Killer Frog "Hard Times" on Masochist Records from Chicago, Illinois 1972 takes less than two minutes, an action packed James Gang style bar band rocker with a bit of punky sneer in the face of misfortune. These guys never even heard of flower power. They are killer frogs. Good Humore "Killer" does kill in stripped down hard rock trio style, Warren, Michigan 1976. No frills guitar, bass and drums groove tight, snaky primordial riff, snarly licks. “She’s a killer of a woman, knows just what she’s doing…” The singer knows she’s a femme-fatale roadhouse predator but she’s so hot the inevitable wreckage seems a bargain. Ride it out like the extended jam on the fade knowing she’ll be back for more! Sarawest "Space Rider" winds up the 22nd Trip lost in a twisted two chord space adventure from the point of view of an alien visiting our planet seeking knowledge but finding out we are stupidly destroying ourselves, so he gotta split sneering back at us like we wasted his time “I got no time for loving… I wanna be a space rider, space rider”. Toronto, Canada 1974, a vibe lurking in some strange but funny void between late ‘60s outsider garage psychedelic rock complete with reverb-y acid guitar leads and late ‘70s retro-futuristic D.I.Y wisecracking from inner space… taking the piss out of outer space!

Aspen is very proud to introduce ‘Non Sonett’ by the Christian Wallumrød Ensemble. This ensemble is a pioneering Norwegian chamber group whose work on ECM and Hubro has redefined the boundaries between jazz, contemporary composition and folk music.Across seven albums, the ensemble has developed a highly distinctive l anguage built on restraint, timbral nuance and collective interplay, placing it among the most influential European ensembles of the 21st century.

Bringing together some of the finest musicians in Norway, the ensemble draws on a rare collective sensitivity, where each player contributes to a deeply integrated and texturally rich sound world.

With Non Sonett, the Christian Wallumrød Ensemble opens a new chapter that grows directly out of recent years of work in more solitary and cross-disciplinary contexts. In this period, Wallumrød has developed material for solo performance as well as for dance, allowing ideas to take shape in more fluid and exploratory formats. Some of this material now finds its way into the ensemble, where it is met by the possibilities offered by instrumentation, collective playing, and the distinct voices of the musicians. At the same time, older pieces—originating in entirely different settings— re-emerge here in new forms, reshaped by the ensemble context.

A defining aspect of Non Sonett is the way many of the pieces function less as fully determined compositions and more as open frameworks: starting points, suggestions, or “springboards” for music. These structures invite response rather than prescribe outcome, relying on the ensemble’s inherent sensitivity and capacity to realize and transform the material in performance. The result is music that feels both precise and fluid, shaped in equal measure by composition and by the interpretative presence of the players.

Central to this album is a continued deepening of Wallumrød’s long-standing interest in ambiguity and in dissolving boundaries between different musical elements and expressive worlds. By placing contrasting materials and associations side by side—sometimes subtly, sometimes more overtly—the music opens up spaces where meanings remain fluid and interconnected. On Non Sonett, this approach is taken a step further, allowing these juxtapositions to play an even more active role in shaping the music’s character and flow.

This approach connects closely with the ensemble’s broader artistic trajectory. Over time, the Christian Wallumrød Ensemble has developed a language that is immediately recognizable—marked by reduction, clarity and a deep attention to sonic detail. While each release has its own character, the underlying aesthetic remains consistent: a focus on the inner life of sound itself. Rather than foregrounding gesture or virtuosity, the music draws the listener toward the smallest elements, where meaning emerges gradually through texture, spacing and timbre.

The listening experience becomes one of concentration and proximity, where each sound carries weight, and the accumulation of detail forms a larger whole. References may be sensed—to early polyphonic music, Norwegian folk traditions, or more recent experimental practices—but these are absorbed into a singular musical language that resists categorization.

As with the ensemble’s recent work, Non Sonett also continues the integration of electronics as a fundamental part of the sound world. Each musician engages with electronic elements alongside their acoustic instruments, creating a layered and dynamic sonic environment. At times, this leads into extended, exploratory passages reminiscent of analogue musique concrète; at others, electronics operate almost imperceptibly, subtly altering and extending the acoustic textures in real time.

Aspen is very proud to introduce ‘Non Sonett’ by the Christian Wallumrød Ensemble. This ensemble is a pioneering Norwegian chamber group whose work on ECM and Hubro has redefined the boundaries between jazz, contemporary composition and folk music.Across seven albums, the ensemble has developed a highly distinctive l anguage built on restraint, timbral nuance and collective interplay, placing it among the most influential European ensembles of the 21st century.

Bringing together some of the finest musicians in Norway, the ensemble draws on a rare collective sensitivity, where each player contributes to a deeply integrated and texturally rich sound world.

With Non Sonett, the Christian Wallumrød Ensemble opens a new chapter that grows directly out of recent years of work in more solitary and cross-disciplinary contexts. In this period, Wallumrød has developed material for solo performance as well as for dance, allowing ideas to take shape in more fluid and exploratory formats. Some of this material now finds its way into the ensemble, where it is met by the possibilities offered by instrumentation, collective playing, and the distinct voices of the musicians. At the same time, older pieces—originating in entirely different settings— re-emerge here in new forms, reshaped by the ensemble context.

A defining aspect of Non Sonett is the way many of the pieces function less as fully determined compositions and more as open frameworks: starting points, suggestions, or “springboards” for music. These structures invite response rather than prescribe outcome, relying on the ensemble’s inherent sensitivity and capacity to realize and transform the material in performance. The result is music that feels both precise and fluid, shaped in equal measure by composition and by the interpretative presence of the players.

Central to this album is a continued deepening of Wallumrød’s long-standing interest in ambiguity and in dissolving boundaries between different musical elements and expressive worlds. By placing contrasting materials and associations side by side—sometimes subtly, sometimes more overtly—the music opens up spaces where meanings remain fluid and interconnected. On Non Sonett, this approach is taken a step further, allowing these juxtapositions to play an even more active role in shaping the music’s character and flow.

This approach connects closely with the ensemble’s broader artistic trajectory. Over time, the Christian Wallumrød Ensemble has developed a language that is immediately recognizable—marked by reduction, clarity and a deep attention to sonic detail. While each release has its own character, the underlying aesthetic remains consistent: a focus on the inner life of sound itself. Rather than foregrounding gesture or virtuosity, the music draws the listener toward the smallest elements, where meaning emerges gradually through texture, spacing and timbre.

The listening experience becomes one of concentration and proximity, where each sound carries weight, and the accumulation of detail forms a larger whole. References may be sensed—to early polyphonic music, Norwegian folk traditions, or more recent experimental practices—but these are absorbed into a singular musical language that resists categorization.

As with the ensemble’s recent work, Non Sonett also continues the integration of electronics as a fundamental part of the sound world. Each musician engages with electronic elements alongside their acoustic instruments, creating a layered and dynamic sonic environment. At times, this leads into extended, exploratory passages reminiscent of analogue musique concrète; at others, electronics operate almost imperceptibly, subtly altering and extending the acoustic textures in real time.

In recent years, Midge Ure has spent his time playing live and not has time to fully immerse himself in the studios creating music To that end A Man of Two Worlds is his first album of new material in 12 years. Well worth the wait, the album is a formidable collection of outstanding music, divided into two clear parts.

The first half, World One: Music, consists of eight instrumental pieces, while the second half, World Two: Songs, features eight vocal songs. This concept was partly inspired by the time Midge spent during lockdown listening to instrumental music whilst presenting THE SPACE on Scala Radio. Hearing music that rarely finds a home on mainstream radio, he set about making something without lyrics, where the melodies had to speak for themselves. The eight vocal songs which form the second part of the album, came to Midge as the world reopened. A more divided world, in many ways a much harder and less empathetic one. Sharing an atmosphere with the preceding instrumentals, these songs are incredibly sparse and meditative, and whilst they are subtle, with some songs dealing with the frailty of the human condition, underlying many songs reflect Midge's concerns for the discord infecting world today.

40 Thieves have been part of the Leng family since 2011 during which time they have released many quality singles and EPs as well as their sole full-length album, 2014’s epic The Sky Is Yours. Even so, double A-side ‘Love Is’/’Let Me Show You’ still marks their first release on Leng for almost three years.

In keeping with their signature sound, ‘Love Is’ is trippy, hallucinatory and gently mind-altering, with psychedelic guitar sounds, echoing percussion, and a heady lead vocal courtesy of crew member and Alona, all of which rides a chunky dub disco bassline and chugging mid-tempo beats. Richard Sen, a DJ and producer known for his love of dubbed-out sonics and pulsating grooves, delivers a typically spaced-out and otherworldly rework. Rooting his revision to the dancefloor via an undulating electronic bassline that throbs away restlessly throughout, Sen stretches out the track and emphasises its more trippy elements before introducing dreamier chords and heady vocals with a brilliant interpretation.

On ‘Let Me Show You’, 40 Thieves step things up to deep house tempo while remaining firmly rooted in 21st century San Francisco nu-disco with rich, dubby bass guitar, tactile piano chords, futurist synths and knowing nods to Patrick Cowley productions of the late 1970s and early ‘80s. The track is presented in two forms: the superb ‘Vocal Mix’, where Alona’s vocal rises above the groove and intoxicating electronics, and a genuinely radical and out-there dancefloor focused ‘Dub’. Pushing the track’s wilder and more out-there elements to the max via stripped-back arrangements and a smorgasbord of effects, 40 Thieves re-wire the cut as a heads-down psychedelic disco chugger topped off with wonderfully loved-up chords.

Bleaching Agent and Miles J Paralysis are two artists who operate steadily in their own lane. They collide on this release to deliver two contrasting originals, each handed to the other to be reimagined.

Both based alongside us in West Yorkshire, we are thrilled to present this shared vision in the form of the first Dream Space 12”.

Bleaching Agent’s Hollis captures the spirit of the bleeps & bass forged in the industrial north of years gone by, elevated with lush harmonies and slick vocal work. One that’s fit for late-night floors and hazy summer evenings alike.

Miles J Paralysis takes Hollis into a different space, chopping the melody into an infectious and hypnotic flow. All melded together with his signature dub-tinged, grooving percussive work.

On side two, Miles drags us into deep territory with Inhibited Orgy. Further exploring the otherworldly sound of his Paralysis moniker, that many of you will now be familiar with after a breakout year.

Bleaching Agent closes off the record with his own take, stoking the energy levels to create a stomping, anthemic chugger that is sure to ignite any dance floor.

Limited to 150 copies.

Bristol's Tara Clerkin Trio return to World of Echo and the EP format for a five song collection of quixotic, emotional redolence. But do not mistake their absence for inertia. If their musical output has been a little sparse during those in-between years, limited to a few solo ventures and an astonishing ten minute long piece as a trio, their time has otherwise been richly spent: continuous writing and recording, extensive live performances across Europe and Japan, a cultivation of local and more far-flung artistic connections (musical and otherwise), and a monthly NTS show that, through the voice of others, speaks most obviously to their own unorthodox interests. It's the conflux of that winding activity that leads indirectly to On The Turning Ground, 26 minutes of probing, thoughtful composition that draws from no one specific source. Their inspirations might be centreless, but the trio still possess a very obvious anchor in the form of their hometown. Bristol stands as a city of multitudes, heterogenous and vibrant in such a way as to allow it to renew and remake time and again. Tara Clerkin Trio drink from that same well, duly reflecting a rich musical heritage built on fwd-facing electronic subcultures and experimental urges.

As such, On The Turning Ground finds them subject to their own subtle internal evolution, the pervasive sense that you've caught them mid-bloom, on their way to becoming but never anything but themselves. The two instrumental pieces that bookend the EP stand as a perfect case in point, displaying an increasing mastery of compositional space. Pensive and restrained, 'Brigstow' and 'Once Around' both emanate an interstitial quality that's not so much after- as in-between-hours, miniature dub-folk symphonies held together by the kind of tacit understanding that remains the preserve of only the closest of family units. If those two tracks are shaped by a sense of shifting temporality, then the three vocal-led pieces that comprise the record's core feel like a gentle ossifying of aesthetic into something approaching their own unique form of avant-pop. 'Pop' is, of course, a broadly subjective concept, but there's no avoiding the overt sparkling melodicism of songs like 'Marble Walls' and 'The Turning Ground', undeniable re-directions of that late 90s impulse to bend pop sensibilities into off-centre terrain, to render the familiar new again. This is what Tara Clerkin Trio do, gently pulling the ground from under your feet, turning you to face something you'd not quite seen before. To view the world as they do: sideways, sometimes, all of the time.

Portland-based krautrock band Motrik formed in 2013, its four members united by a pledge to modernize their beloved genre. Sharing a passion for pioneers like Can, Kraftwerk, and Trad Gras Och Stenar, the group has demonstrated its ability to deliver over a series of EPs and albums, most recently 2020's acclaimed Artificial Head. As they continue to experiment by incorporating additional influences ranging from funk and jazz to psych and prog Motrik's third full-length, a double LP titled MOON: The Cosmic Electrics of MOTRIK, is a further continuation in the story of an historic genre befitting of the album's cosmic artwork.

Motrik boldly takes full advantage of the space that four sides of vinyl allow on this latest offering. The middle of the album features two long suites that feel typical of the groups dynamic live performances, which frequently feature fog cannons, lasers, and other prop homages to Kraftwerk and company. The 13-minute "Stabilize" emerges from a haze of synth pulses and guitar tones, settling into a steady NEU!-like chug that swells and recedes like an ecstatic wave. On "Space Elevator", the motorik drive from which the band take their name evolves into an insinuating and sensual disco-like throb before the perfect proggy comedown in the final minute.

Born in Douarnenez, at the far edge of Brittany (France), Komodor has quickly established itself as one of the most vibrant names in the French rock landscape. Their high-energy rock, fueled by fuzz, sweat, and vocal harmonies woven in the spirit of MC5 and T. Rex, immediately drew attention: Rolling Stone, Rock & Folk, Libération and Rock Hard Germany all praised the fiery impact of their debut album Nasty Habits (which sold over 2,000 vinyl copies). Since then, the quintet has mostly lived on the road: a long European tour, followed by the larger-than-life saga of Komodrag & The Mounodor, carrying them to stages such as Hellfest, Les Vieilles Charrues, and the Francofolies de La Rochelle, among many others.

Their second album, Time & Space, reveals a band in full metamorphosis. Without abandoning the explosive force that defines them, Komodor widens its scope: volcanic riffs, more sinuous grooves, mist-laden harmonies, psychedelic flashes… The energy is still wild, but more inhabited, more liberated, almost ceremonial at times. The record opens with two telling bursts: Bliss & Joy, a libertarian charge with the feel of a manifesto, and Soul Tricker, a rock incantation where trance overtakes sheer electric assault. Two sides of the same coin, pulled taut between urgency and enchantment.

On stage, Komodor remains a true shockwave, forged across European festivals (Freak Valley, Motocultor, Fête du Bruit, and more) and now awaited at the legendary Desertfest London. Their music feels made for such spaces: a visceral, flesh-and-amp kind of rock, drawing from the seventies’ heritage to speak even more vividly to the present. A band moving forward at full volume, without nostalgia or calculation, carried by a simple conviction: as long as the amps are hot, rock can still burn.

In short: Komodor is the band of friends from Douarnenez bringing pencil-and-paper rock into the streaming age while preserving its analog soul (with the album mastered at the legendary Miraval Studios), the smell of warm tubes, the grain of vinyl. With this second album, they hit harder, truer, and more vividly than ever.
Time & Space stands as a “must-have French rock record”, a tangible piece worth cherishing in any collection.