Search:our home

chant#11 is the first VA compilation by David August's imprint featuring KMRU, Yu Su, Kareem Lotfy, Hadj Sameer, Sara Berts and more. Including also two new projects by August himself, Aşa (with jazz-noise vocalist Cansu Tanrikulu) and Madrā (with Carnatic vocalist Sushma Soma).

Observing how the world is continuously transforming, an idea of motion comes to mind. Inspired by Plato's concept of movement ("Nothing ever is, everything is becoming"), 99CHANTS has invited artists to create an "imaginary landscape." What does tomorrow sound like?

With creativity an increasing part of our daily lives, we must consider how we navigate the changes this contemporary environment brings. This means thinking through our responsibilities as a label, but also the role of music at this particular moment in time. We believe creativity and looking within our interior worlds can set hope and action in motion. We are curious to further explore music's ability to create gateways to such inspiration. With humility and gratitude, we hope this compilation can be a small contribution to a larger picture.

Since we started 99C in 2018, the safeguarding of the environment has been paramount to our existence. Considering the possibilities of tangible impact, we thoughtfully considered the act of compensation and decided that all proceeds will go directly to the non-profit organisation ONETREEPLANTED. Founded in 2014, OTP works with partners around the globe to plant trees in areas affected by deforestation. With 10 million trees planted as of 2020, biodiversity has been stimulated, jobs have been created, and while multinational conglomerates and energy companies produce the vast majority of global CO2 emissions, areas destroyed in the name of profit can once again flourish with life.

After 6 years and 7 volumes, the Tramp Records crew invites you to join them on yet another enlightening journey into soulful Jazz, Folk and Funk from the 1970s.

This 8th volume contains nineteen Jazz, Soul and Folk nuggets from between the late 1960s and the late 1970s. One of the many highlights is the opening track by Bobby Cole which is most likely one of the finest independently produced vocal jazz recordings ever put on wax. So true. Oscar Brown Jr. and Mark Murphy sends its regards. But that's just the beginning. Praise Poems Vol.8 covers a wide selection of genres, from big band jazz (Helmut Pistor's Big Rock Jazz Band and Germany's own Ladykiller) to psych-pop (Portraits in Sound, Harve and Charee and Allison & Shaffer), from folk-rock (Flash, Garndarf and the incredible Fang Buzbee) to AOR (The Menagerie and Penn Central), completing the set with a handful of melancholic folk beauties, most notably Hans Hass Jr.'s mind-blowing "Welche Farbe hat der Wind".

Very few compilation series' release as many as eight volumes and those that get that far often start to run out of quality music or meander too far from their original artistic direction. That certainly is not the case with the "Praise Poems" series which leaps from strength-to-strength as our team of compilers and researchers continue to unearth lost and often overlooked music from an era long gone. Many of these records were released in small quantities as private pressings or by small regional labels. Obviously, those labels neither had the budget, expertise, nor options to promote their releases in a sweeping way. Therefore the majority of these artists failed to find the wider audience their music so richly deserved.

DOUBLE BLACK LP : 2 x 140 G Black Vinyl , Sleeve & 2 x Heavy Weight Printed Inner with UV Gloss Finish

Legendary electronic music duo Orbital return Early 2023 with new album “Optical Delusion”, the Hartnoll brothers first studio album since 2018’s Monster’s Exist. Recorded in Orbital’s Brighton studio, “Optical Delusion” includes contributions from Sleaford Mods, Penelope Isles, Anna B Savage, The Little Pest, Dina Ipavic, Coppe, and perhaps most surprisingly, The Medieval Baebes.
Earlier this year, Orbital celebrated their storied history with “30 Something” which, unlike other Best Of’s, contains reworks, remakes, remixes and re-imaginings of landmark Orbital tracks including “Chime”, “Belfast”, “Halcyon”, “Satan”, and “The Box”

SHORT BIOG:

“A human being experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest of humanity – a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison…”

You many have seen this quote attributed to Albert Einstein on social media, the archetypal Smartest Guy Ever apparently having an out-of-character religious epiphany. It certainly leapt out at Paul Hartnoll of Orbital who spotted it in Michael Pollan’s 2018 book How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression and Transcendence.

“As soon as I saw ‘optical delusion’ I thought Oh hey, that’s the album title,” says Paul. “It just seemed to say so much about how people construct their own realities, how we see patterns that aren’t there, how we see what we want to see.

“But it’s actually a misquote. He never quite said that. In the German original what he’s really saying is that human experience is as relative as physics. Wouldn’t it be good if we could accept that, and find a kind of universal theory of everything for the human race? Then you look at everything from history to art to your Twitter feed and you think yeah, that’s what we’re all trying to do all of the time…”

Hence ‘Optical Delusion’, the tenth original Orbital album and the latest in a burst of renewed post-pandemic creativity for two brothers who’ve stayed at the top of their game longer than anyone from the post-1988 Class of Acid House.

Now with ‘Optical Delusion’ the Hartnolls dig deeper into the unquiet psyche of our increasingly surreal and disordered world. Sketched out partly during lockdown but fully recorded in the uncertain After Times, the album summons up conflicting emotions and sometimes beguiling images from years when the science fiction doomsdays that the Hartnolls watched on TV as kids finally came true. There are mesmeric tracks with names like ‘The New Abnormal’ and ‘Requiem For The Pre-Apocalypse’ and ‘Day One’. But there are also straight-up bangers and ethereal cosmic dreams, abstract sound wars and deeply human songs of separation and loss.

And it all starts with a bang. Lead single ‘Dirty Rat’, an outright Fall-meets-Front-242 class rant with vocals by Sleaford Mods mob orator Jason Williamson, harks right back to the Hartnolls’ days of politicised anarcho-squatpunk. It began as a remix swap (Orbital did the Sleafords’ ‘I Don’t Rate You’) and morphed into a comic, brutal, bass-driven harangue not so much against our rulers but at the petty, mean-spirited, frightened, Mail-reading voters who put them there: the people who are “blaming everyone in hospital/blaming everyone at the bottom of the English Channel/blaming everyone who doesn’t look like a fried animal.”

Also key to the album is opening track ‘Ringa Ringa (The Old Pandemic Folk Song)’ which returns to an Orbital truism, that time always becomes a loop. This chugging, cyclical Orbital groove gives way to an unnerving past-meets-present timeslip fit for ‘Sapphire And Steel’ as goth maenads The Mediaeval Baebes materialise to sing ‘Ring O’Roses’ – the innocent nursery rhyme whose roots are in the Black Death.

“I’ve always liked folk music and mediaeval sounds,” says Paul, himself an occasional Morris dancer. “I had the basis of that track and I wanted to spin it off somehow.” Trawling his archives he stumbled on The Mediaeval Baebes’ version of ‘Ring O’Roses’ “and my hackles just went up. I was like, my God, this is the original pandemic folk song.”

?his being Orbital, there are collaborations galore on the album, the roles once played by Alison Goldfrapp, Lady Leshurr or David Gray now filled by new talents. London singer-songwriter Anna B Savage contributes a compellingly fragile, Anohni-like vocal to ‘Home’, in which nature reclaims the scorched and vacant mega-cities. ‘Day One’ is a pulsing techno track featuring the singer Dina Ipavic. Paul got in touch with her after working on a score for a sculpture show of giant robotic installations by his friend Giles Walker during the pandemic. First Paul cut up his own score and Ipavic’s vocals on the track The Crane, which appears on the deluxe version of the album. Then he thought, Why not work with her for real? The result is school of ‘Belfast’, a bassy dreamscape with vocalised clouds billowing above.

The pensive ‘Are You ?live?’ adds to the Orbital product range of existential questions (‘Are We Here?’, ‘Where Is It Going?’) in collaboration Bella Union signings Penelope Isles, AKA brother and sister act Lily and Jack Wolter. “They’re our studio mates, they work upstairs!” says Paul happily. “And they’ve both got amazing voices.”


But Orbital are Orbital and never far from the dancefloor. “Eventually the more abrasive bits came back into the fold…” ‘You Are The Frequency’, first of two tracks to feature mysterious vocalist The Little Pest, surrounds the listener with warped voices ordering you to the dancefloor (Phil: “we wanted the idea that the music is kind of absorbing you”). And the second, the sinister ‘What A Surprise’, traps you in a paranoid electronic hall of mirrors.

In another nod to Orbital’s resurgent past the cover artwork once again comes from fine art painter John Greenwood, creator of fantastical grotesques for the covers of ‘Snivilisation’, ‘In Sides’ and Orbital’s most recent album, 2018’s ‘Monsters Exist’. Orbital had just had a slick Mark Farrow cover for ‘30 Something’ – this is a return to the overripe and bulbous techno-organic constructions that somehow express Orbital’s own uncontrollably fertile sound.

There are gaps in the future that Orbital are desperate to fill too; there will be tours and festivals and rooms and fields full of people. Those long paralysed months when we had little to look forward to but a Zoom DJ set made Paul and Phil appreciate the things that make life worth living.

2 x Solid White LP, 5mm spine Sleeve UV Gloss Finish, 2x Heavy Weight Printed Inner Sleeve UV Gloss finish, marketing sticker.

Legendary electronic music duo Orbital return Early 2023 with new album “Optical Delusion”, the Hartnoll brothers first studio album since 2018’s Monster’s Exist. Recorded in Orbital’s Brighton studio, “Optical Delusion” includes contributions from Sleaford Mods, Penelope Isles, Anna B Savage, The Little Pest, Dina Ipavic, Coppe, and perhaps most surprisingly, The Medieval Baebes.
Earlier this year, Orbital celebrated their storied history with “30 Something” which, unlike other Best Of’s, contains reworks, remakes, remixes and re-imaginings of landmark Orbital tracks including “Chime”, “Belfast”, “Halcyon”, “Satan”, and “The Box”

SHORT BIOG:

“A human being experiences himself, his thoughts and feelings as something separate from the rest of humanity – a kind of optical delusion of his consciousness. This delusion is a kind of prison for us, restricting us to our personal desires and to affection for a few persons nearest to us. Our task must be to free ourselves from this prison…”

You many have seen this quote attributed to Albert Einstein on social media, the archetypal Smartest Guy Ever apparently having an out-of-character religious epiphany. It certainly leapt out at Paul Hartnoll of Orbital who spotted it in Michael Pollan’s 2018 book How to Change Your Mind: What the New Science of Psychedelics Teaches Us About Consciousness, Dying, Addiction, Depression and Transcendence.

“As soon as I saw ‘optical delusion’ I thought Oh hey, that’s the album title,” says Paul. “It just seemed to say so much about how people construct their own realities, how we see patterns that aren’t there, how we see what we want to see.

“But it’s actually a misquote. He never quite said that. In the German original what he’s really saying is that human experience is as relative as physics. Wouldn’t it be good if we could accept that, and find a kind of universal theory of everything for the human race? Then you look at everything from history to art to your Twitter feed and you think yeah, that’s what we’re all trying to do all of the time…”

Hence ‘Optical Delusion’, the tenth original Orbital album and the latest in a burst of renewed post-pandemic creativity for two brothers who’ve stayed at the top of their game longer than anyone from the post-1988 Class of Acid House.

Now with ‘Optical Delusion’ the Hartnolls dig deeper into the unquiet psyche of our increasingly surreal and disordered world. Sketched out partly during lockdown but fully recorded in the uncertain After Times, the album summons up conflicting emotions and sometimes beguiling images from years when the science fiction doomsdays that the Hartnolls watched on TV as kids finally came true. There are mesmeric tracks with names like ‘The New Abnormal’ and ‘Requiem For The Pre-Apocalypse’ and ‘Day One’. But there are also straight-up bangers and ethereal cosmic dreams, abstract sound wars and deeply human songs of separation and loss.

And it all starts with a bang. Lead single ‘Dirty Rat’, an outright Fall-meets-Front-242 class rant with vocals by Sleaford Mods mob orator Jason Williamson, harks right back to the Hartnolls’ days of politicised anarcho-squatpunk. It began as a remix swap (Orbital did the Sleafords’ ‘I Don’t Rate You’) and morphed into a comic, brutal, bass-driven harangue not so much against our rulers but at the petty, mean-spirited, frightened, Mail-reading voters who put them there: the people who are “blaming everyone in hospital/blaming everyone at the bottom of the English Channel/blaming everyone who doesn’t look like a fried animal.”

Also key to the album is opening track ‘Ringa Ringa (The Old Pandemic Folk Song)’ which returns to an Orbital truism, that time always becomes a loop. This chugging, cyclical Orbital groove gives way to an unnerving past-meets-present timeslip fit for ‘Sapphire And Steel’ as goth maenads The Mediaeval Baebes materialise to sing ‘Ring O’Roses’ – the innocent nursery rhyme whose roots are in the Black Death.

“I’ve always liked folk music and mediaeval sounds,” says Paul, himself an occasional Morris dancer. “I had the basis of that track and I wanted to spin it off somehow.” Trawling his archives he stumbled on The Mediaeval Baebes’ version of ‘Ring O’Roses’ “and my hackles just went up. I was like, my God, this is the original pandemic folk song.”

?his being Orbital, there are collaborations galore on the album, the roles once played by Alison Goldfrapp, Lady Leshurr or David Gray now filled by new talents. London singer-songwriter Anna B Savage contributes a compellingly fragile, Anohni-like vocal to ‘Home’, in which nature reclaims the scorched and vacant mega-cities. ‘Day One’ is a pulsing techno track featuring the singer Dina Ipavic. Paul got in touch with her after working on a score for a sculpture show of giant robotic installations by his friend Giles Walker during the pandemic. First Paul cut up his own score and Ipavic’s vocals on the track The Crane, which appears on the deluxe version of the album. Then he thought, Why not work with her for real? The result is school of ‘Belfast’, a bassy dreamscape with vocalised clouds billowing above.

The pensive ‘Are You ?live?’ adds to the Orbital product range of existential questions (‘Are We Here?’, ‘Where Is It Going?’) in collaboration Bella Union signings Penelope Isles, AKA brother and sister act Lily and Jack Wolter. “They’re our studio mates, they work upstairs!” says Paul happily. “And they’ve both got amazing voices.”


But Orbital are Orbital and never far from the dancefloor. “Eventually the more abrasive bits came back into the fold…” ‘You Are The Frequency’, first of two tracks to feature mysterious vocalist The Little Pest, surrounds the listener with warped voices ordering you to the dancefloor (Phil: “we wanted the idea that the music is kind of absorbing you”). And the second, the sinister ‘What A Surprise’, traps you in a paranoid electronic hall of mirrors.

In another nod to Orbital’s resurgent past the cover artwork once again comes from fine art painter John Greenwood, creator of fantastical grotesques for the covers of ‘Snivilisation’, ‘In Sides’ and Orbital’s most recent album, 2018’s ‘Monsters Exist’. Orbital had just had a slick Mark Farrow cover for ‘30 Something’ – this is a return to the overripe and bulbous techno-organic constructions that somehow express Orbital’s own uncontrollably fertile sound.

There are gaps in the future that Orbital are desperate to fill too; there will be tours and festivals and rooms and fields full of people. Those long paralysed months when we had little to look forward to but a Zoom DJ set made Paul and Phil appreciate the things that make life worth living.

Making Circles of Our Own is the new upcoming sophomore record from Northern Ireland's New Pagans. From the very beginning the Belfast’s indie rock outfit intent was clear: to fuse their collective creative experiences and emit a confidence in both their sound and aesthetic. New Pagans in essence is a movement, challenging issues surrounding relationships, equality and history all wrapped in massive riffs and soaring dynamics shaped into their own brand of alternative, post punk and indie rock — all encompassing on the bands incoming second album ‘Making Circles of Our Own’. With the dawning of 2023 on the horizon, New Pagans have been building off the success of 2020’s debut album ‘The Seed, The Vessel, The Roots and All’ - which helped secure them as winners of ‘Best Live Act’ at the NI Music Prize in 2020 - and emerge invigorated anew. Latest single ‘Better People’ is a stunning blast of positivity that celebrates their ability to pull together, create communities and look after one another. Often outspoken and not shy of protesting the dark themes that infiltrate modern Irish life, singer & lyricist Lyndsey Mcdougall implores us to endeavour to be just as the title suggests. And with this new era comes their staggering second album ‘Making Circles Of Our Own’, which sees the five-piece abandon the chaos of 2020 for a moment in search of hope in the future. Recorded and self-produced at Badlands Studios in the Glens of Antrim in Ireland (the band's HQ) by band members Cahir O'Doherty and Allan McGreevy, New Pagans continue to expand their DIY position. This time around they also invited Sam Petts Davis (Radiohead, Warpaint, Frank Ocean) to mix the songs and the result is an energetic and infectious collection of anthems.

Nach der erfolgreichen "The Stadium Tour" von MÖTLEY
CRÜE mit DEF LEPPARD, bei der sie in diesem Jahr vor
über einer Million Fans in Nordamerika gespielt haben,
kündigt BMG die Veröffentlichung des limitierten Box-Sets
"Crücial Crüe: The Studio Albums 1981-1989" mit den
ersten fünf Platin-Alben von MÖTLEY CRÜE auf farbigem
Vinyl an: "Too Fast For Love" (weiß/schwarz Splatter),
"Shout At The Devil" (gelb/schwarz Splatter), "Theatre Of
Pain" (pink/schwarz Splatter), "Girls, Girls, Girls"
(cyanblau/schwarz Splatter) und "Dr. Feelgood" (Coke
Bottle Green/Oxblood Splatte). Die 5LP Box kommt in
einem edlen schwarzen Schuber

Impatiently returning to the golden age of Ecuadorian musica national, this second round of retrievals is more of a selectors’ affair: less reverent, more free-flowing, with more twists and turns. There is no let-up in musical quality, maintaining the same judicious, heart-piercing balance between emotional desolation and dignified endurance, the same bitter-sweet play between affective excess and musical sublimity.

This time around, the woman steal the show. Laura and Mercedes Suasti were child stars, with an exclusive Radio Quito contract. Unlike nearly all the men here, they lived long and prospered: Mercedes died last year, at the age of 93. Gladys Viera and Olga Gutierrez both came to Ecuador from Argentina. To start, Gladys plugged the scandalous new Monokini swimwear; Olga performed for visiting British royalty in 1962. Olga was glamorous but tough. She would make little of the amputation of one of her legs: ‘I don’t sing with my leg.’ She is accompanied on our opener by quintessentially reeling, sultry musica national: haunted-house organ, twinkling xylophone, Guillermo Rodriguez’ heart-plucking guitar-playing, and lilting, dance-to-keep-from-crying double-bass. ‘Sometimes I think that you will leave me with no memories,’ she sings, ‘that you hold only disappointments in store for me… In the future your love will search me out, full of regret. By then it will be too late, there will be no consolation, only disappointment awaiting you.’

Other highlights include the two contributions of Orquesta Nacional: Ponchito Al Hombro, like an off-the-wall forerunner of the Love Unlimited Orchestra, beamed into the tropics from an unknowable time and space; and the tone poem Atahualpa, a mystical yumbo invoking Quito’s most ancient inhabitants, the Kichwa. Also the tremulous, gypsy-flavoured violin-playing of Raul Emiliani, who arrived in Quito from Italy, suffering PTSD from the Second World War; the inscrutable, sardonic experimentalism of organist Lucho Munoz; and the mooing and whistling of Toro Barroso — school of Lee Perry — in which a muddy bull dashes home to his darling chola, fearless, full of desire.

Lavishly presented, with a full-size, full-colour booklet, with transporting art-work and expert notes. Luminous sound, by way of Abbey Road, D&M and Pallas.

"I begin our sixth album by exploring melodies that take me to the boundaries of my voice. I write myself into my highest highs and lowest lows. There is a precariousness in the outer limits of my range that demands vulnerability. As our demos take shape, I realize this will be our first album without any belting, the first time I can’t force my way through the notes," recalls Tennis' Alania Moore. "In the studio, Patrick compresses the shit out of my mic and I sing with the gentleness of breathing. In that softness, lyrics take shape. We want to write a big album—something suited for radio, but our songs don’t follow conventional pop structures. Instead of choruses with universal themes, I write with a specificity that is new to me, narrowing in on the smallest details of our lives. The more we try to broaden our scope, the more we turn inward." "We name the album Pollen. It is about small things with big consequences: a particle, a moment, a choice. It is me in a fragile state; sometimes inhabited freely, sometimes reacted against. It is striving to remain in a moment without slipping into dread. It is about the way I can be undone by a very small thing." Tennis is Alaina Moore and Patrick Riley. Pollen is their sixth album. The two met in the philosophy department at the University of Colorado in 2008 after dropping out of their respective music programs. In the years after graduating, they got involved in Denver’s DIY music scene. Through house shows, they were connected with Underwater Peoples and Firetalk. The band went blog-viral nearly overnight, landing them a record deal with Fat Possum and then Communion Records, but with shifting labels and new interests, Tennis chose an alternate path for their band and career. In 2016, Moore and Riley formed the label Mutually Detrimental and began self-releasing. Their newfound freedom allowed them to return to their sailboat to write their next full-length, this time in the Sea of Cortez. Yours Conditionally, released in 2017, became their most commercially successful album–charting at #4 on Billboard’s Independent list and in the top 100 highest selling vinyl releases that year. They played Coachella and opened for artists like The National, Father John Misty and The Shins–proving their DIY roots as a cornerstone to their sound and narrative. Their follow up Swimmer (2020), was recorded in their home studio with Moore and Riley producing and engineering. The pair brought their long-time touring member Steve Voss in for the second time to drum on record. The singles, Need Your Love and Runner, were Tennis’ most successful releases to date.

This land runs through Katherine Paul’s blood. And it called to her. In dreams she saw the river, her ancestors, and her home. When the land calls, you listen. And KP found herself far from her ancestral lands during a time of collective trauma, when the world was wounded and in need of healing. In 2020 she made the journey from Portland back to the Skagit River, back to the cedar
trees that stand tall and shrouded in fog, back to the tide flats and the mountains, back to Swinomish.

It is a powerful thing to return to our ancestral lands and often times the journey is not easy. Like the salmon through the currents, like the tide as it crawls to shore this is a story of return. It is the call and response. It is the outstretched arms of the people who came before, welcoming her home. The Land, The Water, The Sky is a celebration of lineage and strength. Even in its deepest moments of loneliness and grief, of frustration over a world wrought with colonial violence and pain, the songs remind us that if we slow down, if we listen to the waves and the wind through the trees, we will remember to breathe.

There is a throughline of story in every song, a remembrance of knowledge and teachings, a gratitude of wisdom passed down and carried. There is a reimagining of Sedna who was offered to the sea, and a beautiful rumination on sacrifice and humanity, and what it means to hold the stories that work to teach us something.

Chord progressions born out of moments of sadness and solitude transform into the islands that sit blue along the horizon. The Salish Sea curves along her homelands, and when the singer is close to this water she is reminded of her grandmother, how she looked out at these same islands, and she’s held by spirit and memory.

The Land, The Water, The Sky rises and falls, in darkness and in light, but even in its most melancholy moments it is never despairing. That is the beauty of returning home. When you stand on ancestral lands it is impossible to be alone. You feel the arms and hands that hold you up, unwilling to let you fall into sorrow or abandonment. In her songs Katherine Paul has channeled that feeling of being held. In every note she has written a love letter to indigenous strength and healing.

There is a joy present here, a fierce blissfulness that comes with walking the trails along the river, feeling the sand and th stones beneath her feet. It is the pride and the certainty that comes with knowing her ancestors walked along the same land, dipped their hands into the water, and ran their fingertips along the same bark of cedar trees.

This is a story of hope, as it details the joy of returning. Katherine Paul’s journey home wasn’t made alone, and the songs are crowded with loved ones and relatives, like a really good party. And as the songs walk us through the land it is important we hover over the images and the beauty, the moments that mark this album as site specific. The power of this land is woven throughout, telling the story of narrow waterways, brush strokes, salmon stinta, and above all healing.

Let it take you. Move through the story and see the land through her eyes, because it is a gift, a welcomed sʔabadəb.*

*The word “gift” in Lushootseed, the language of the Coast Salish people“

Ever dream you're in a spaceship on a never-ending journey to an unknowable destination? That's how Nyles Lannon often thought of life in the early part of the pandemic, when time seemed to stand still, before the vaccines or even knowing when there might be any. But whether that spaceship is a desolate prison or a vessel for escaping to a better world depends on how you use it. With literally nowhere to go, the Film School guitarist and his then-12-year-old son Skye, on drums and modular synths, would jam most evenings in Nyles's home studio, just to have something to focus their minds on and counter the tedium of "remote learning." What started out as a way to keep his talented kid busy became a means to process the anxiety and disorientation of that strange, scary stretch of time. The result is Vanishing, a ten-song album of moody melodies, new wave beats, droney rock, and even an electrogroove instrumental interlude, by the father-son project they named Nyte Skye.

The emotional toll of lockdown, our collective grief, the literal darkness that engulfed the sky thanks to devastating wildfires brought on by climate crisis—these are heavy subjects, but the songs also convey how we managed to keep each other sane, and inspired, through it all. Film School devotees will find plenty to love; so will fans of the Police (Stewart Copeland being one of Skye's major

influences), the Cure, Spiritualized, and Elliott Smith. The album's opener, "Dream State (I'm Vanishing)," is a wistful synth-driven indie gem about disappearing into an alternate universe where worries don't exist. "Doing Time," with its massive washes of 12-string guitar and sophisticated syncopated beat, is a shoegazey meditation on holding onto a child's sanguine outlook in the face of adversity. If dream pop track "Take Me Up Again" is the album's bounciest, its counterpoint is "Faded," whose bittersweet melody and gentle rhythm bely themes of physical and emotional frailty.

Ultimately, not only did working on Vanishing help the duo cope with a uniquely challenging situation, but just being stuck at home helped stoke their creativity. "Music was the only thing I did during the pandemic, besides online school," Skye says. "It gave us all this time we didn't have before to make the album." For Nyles—knowing they might never have that kind of time again—to be able to put out a record with his son is, simply, "a dream come true."

Vanishing was written, recorded, and produced by Nyles Lannon and Skye Lannon and mixed by Dan Long, with additional contributions from Zach Rogue (Rogue Wave), Nichole Kreglow (backup vocals), lyricist Neil Rodenmeyer (Lupa Rosa), and Ian McDonald (FUTRVST).

Originally released on Axis records! This story takes place around the year 3216, in which space travel is something completely contemporary. Humanity is going too far in pushing Mother Nature's boundaries, and now the planet is in danger. Only one person is capable of saving Earth from destruction. Our protagonist travels to other planets to see if there is anything that can aid him in calling the downfall of our home world to a halt. The fragments on this disc are actually snapshots, made in between traveling, amid the rushing realization that a resolution to save the planet must be found. Quickly. DJ Surgeles has a longstanding professional relationship with Detroit legend Jeff Mills. Connected through music, DJ Surgeles learned the insides and tricks of Jeff. Many conversations and meetings over the years led to this new concept, The Escape Velocity. DJ Surgeles has also collaborated exclusively with Jeff Mills on the concepts Something in The Sky and STRMRKD, and produced a special Axis Records 10 year anniversary release, The Bells: DJ Mix back in 2007. I wanna thank Jeff Mills for making this album happen.

Gotts Street Park are a proud bunch of throwbacks. The Leeds-based trio - Josh Crocker (bass, production), Tom Henry (keys) and Joe Harris (guitar) - met through various music studies and friendship networks. Individually their tastes are diverse: from North Indian classical to experimental jazz, soul to alternative hip hop but their vision is united: “The idea of doing things live in one room has always been important,” remarks Josh. “That’s how they used to do it. Our identity evolved from that.”

The inception of the collective goes back to around 2012. There have been minor line up tweaks - they currently record with a rotating list of drummers - but the philosophy has stayed the same: an ongoing pursuit to capture the raw, unparalleled vibe that comes from recording music together, usually as one take, sometimes to analogue tape.

That approach is a deliberate call back to the methods made famous by legendary studios like Sun and Stax in Memphis, or FAME and Muscle Shoals in Alabama and their in-house bands. That’s why for years, GSP set up their own studio in a shared house in a tough (but, crucially, affordable) corner of west Leeds, Armley. Gotts Park (historically the home of industrialist Benjamin Gott) was close by - the group’s name was a nod to their local geography but also the fact it sounded like an area plucked straight out of some of their favourite East Coast hip hop releases.

Their work was quickly noticed, and it was from that base where they began working with an eye catching list of collaborators: Rejjie Snow, Kali Uchis, Cosima, Yellow Days, Chester Watson, Greentea Peng and Benny Mails. Tom also played keys in Mabel’s band. Early on, while performing as a band for hire for those artists, they were simultaneously honing their own sound; a deliberately retro “heavy, saturated” atmosphere that married the languid vibe of traditional soul with the pin sharp clarity of contemporary hip hop. Old leanings, sure, but upcycled with their own modern twist. “We’re constantly trying to build a catalogue,” says Tom. “Writing new stuff and sending it out to people.” That’s why after the release of their debut EP, ‘Volume One’, in 2017 the invitations kept coming; most notably from Brits Rising Star award winner Celeste, with whom they recorded two tracks on her debut EP ‘Lately’.

‘Volume Two’ once again features an impressive raft of vocalists - all female - from established names to fresh talent. This time, musically, the overall tone is lighter; less gritty, more optimistic. “It’s definitely not as gloomy,” says Josh. “Still though, there is this kind of dark, mysterious thing that we do a lot that works,” he continues. “Like the song we’ve done with Grand Pax, for example - it’s got that kind of witchy darkness to it. I think if you do a really straight male soul voice, it can be a bit cheesy and sound like you’ve heard it a million times before.”

Their collaborations might be some of the freshest of 2020 but make no mistake: Gotts Street Park are out there looking to create something timeless.

The pandemic affected each of us in different ways. From colossal stars to complete unknowns, it up-ended our lives, and demolished our expectations.

Take Lil Skies. The Philly talent found himself back in his home city, completing a journey that began in pace on his 2017 mixtape ‘Life Of A Dark Rose’. Re-connecting with his roots – his moniker is a nod to his father, while 2019 debut album ‘Shelby’ named after his mother – he’s delivered some of his most potent, open material to date.

‘Unbothered’ is a tight, focussed return – a snappy 14 tracks, is exudes a sense of purpose, retaining the swagger of his debut while upping the word play. It’s an inward journey, one exemplified by those early viral singles ‘OK’ and ‘Havin’ My Way’ but it’s also lit up by some special guests.

Working with alacrity, Lil Skies built ‘Unbothered’ from a series of freestyles, yet every element on the album feels exact, placed with real precision. Using a mere three features – a trilogy that boasts Wiz Khalifa, Lil Durk, and Jodeci – the emphasis is placed on his vocals, on his ability to utilise the voice as an instrument.

‘Trust Nobody’ hinges on fragile paranoia, while ‘Riot’ bristles with a palpable sense of rage. An attempt to channel the repressed – and often extreme – emotions of the past 12 months, ‘Unbothered’ pitches a cool facade against a depth of feeling that often threatens to explode – just check out ‘Think Deep Don’t Sink’ for a mission statement.

Working within clear definitions, ‘Unbothered’ feels more distilled than Lil Skies’ previous work, the sound of someone choosing to work with what they know. Lyrically it’s marked by pain and redemption, lingering on messages of perseverance, and renewal. He may claim to be ‘Unbothered’, but the marks of the pandemic are there for all to see on a brave, at times powerful, new album

The impact Belfast born duo Bicep have had on Irish music is unmeasurable, capturing the hearts and minds of the next-gen with their future-facing sonics. The pairing started their FMB label in 2012, going on to support a plethora of Irish artists in the process, from Cromby and Hammer to Brassica and Brame & Hamo.

The label's latest record comes from yet another Irish artist. Swoose, a name that should be familiar to any Irish electronic lover, began his career handing out flyers for legendary club Stiff Kitten. From here Swoose went on to become a resident of Shine and AVA Festival, and has released a string of killer records on Shall Not Fade and Lost Palms. Now residing in London, his record on FMB brings the OG Belfast dance music community back together for a fittingly euphoric release.

Title track ‘Breathe’ produces poignant undertones and contemplative thought, meditative breaks channeling the producer's fascination with wild flora and fauna. The track's interior begins to distort our sense of time and self, liquid textures forming over celestial harmonies like psilocybin. ‘Hyphae’ takes a 4/4 approach, while keeping the EP’s emotional personality present. Its pulsating bassline is balanced by far-reaching syths and dancing hi-hats, resting in a unified space of motion and colour.

Rotterdam via Belfast based artist Kessler has been on the tip of everyone's tongue since the return of clubbing. He has released music on Sherelle’s BEAUTIFUL black and LGBTQ+ label and his debut Shall Not Fade release was one of the most celebrated EPs of 2021. Kesslers knackt to create beautiful, other-wordly soundscapes that are both functional and edge on the side of melancholy are unmatched. His flip of title track ‘Breathe’ swaps gentler tones for his signature UK-sound inspired drums and crowd-evaporating atmospherics. The arrangements gentle ebb and flow, maintaining that signature blend of pace and etherealness.

Toronto’s Peach is on hand for the second remix – ‘Hyphae – a stripped-back early-morning groover that mixes psychedelia with flexible percussion. The track gives off a subtly uplifting vibe that blends heads-down club with minimal, punchy aesthetic. Just when you thought it was time to go home too...

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape_at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire's new album Every Acre grapples with those themes_themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming_claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage_permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In "New View," McEntire cites poets "Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds"_fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire's voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: "Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me_I'll take more of you." Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, "Shadows" develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss_reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how "to make room." How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, "Rows of Clover" is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a "steadfast hound." The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers-esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being "down on your knees, clawing at the garden"_the only explicit mention of a person in the song. "It ain't the easy kind of healing," sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing ta;kes time, time takes time_truths that linger painfully. "Dovetail" is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire's gentle, trembling vibrato_harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner_calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions_such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia_that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre ex - plores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life_both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

Orange Viny

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape_at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire's new album Every Acre grapples with those themes_themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming_claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage_permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In "New View," McEntire cites poets "Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds"_fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire's voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: "Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me_I'll take more of you." Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, "Shadows" develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss_reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how "to make room." How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, "Rows of Clover" is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a "steadfast hound." The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers-esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being "down on your knees, clawing at the garden"_the only explicit mention of a person in the song. "It ain't the easy kind of healing," sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing ta;kes time, time takes time_truths that linger painfully. "Dovetail" is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire's gentle, trembling vibrato_harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner_calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions_such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia_that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre ex - plores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life_both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

If naming is a form of claiming, of being claimed, how is one tethered to both the physical landscape that surrounds us, as well as our own internal emotional landscape at times calm, at times turbulent, and ever changing? H.C. McEntire’s new album Every Acre grapples with those themes that encompass grief, loss, and links to land and loved ones. And naming claiming land, claiming self, being claimed by ancestry and heritage permeates the hauntingly beautiful landscape that is this poignant collection of songs. The songs straddle the line between music and poetry. In “New View,” McEntire cites poets “Day, Ada, and Laux, Berry, and Olds” fixtures in the world of writing, whose works are beacons of light over bleak horizons. The beginning of the song is backed by soft guitar plucks that fall on the downbeat and spangle like stars, and, throughout, guitar, bass, and drums swell together gently, mimicking ebbing and flowing tides under the moon. McEntire’s voice (at once tender and fierce) intones the truth of both giving and taking, releasing and claiming: “Bend me, break me, split me right in two. Mend me, make me I’ll take more of you.” Permeated by heartbeat-like drums, “Shadows” develops quiet ruminations on surrender and loss reminiscing, moving on. This ponderous, dreamlike song asks the question of how “to make room.” How does one make room, for self and for renewal and surrender, when it is so difficult to leave what you know behind? Playing with slivers of descending chromatics, along with the occasional downward-stepping bass, here McEntire yearns for home, and for nesting. Perhaps one of the more grief-stricken songs, “Rows of Clover” is a lamentation, one that touches on the loss of a “steadfast hound.” The lone piano in the beginning of the song is rhythmically hymn-like. The stark verse arrangement gradually leads to a chorus that reads like a moody exhale, swollen with lush guitar strums and a Bill Withers–esque understated soul groove. But what stands out the most is an image of being “down on your knees, clawing at the garden” the only explicit mention of a person in the song. “It ain’t the easy kind of healing,” sings McEntire, seemingly from further and further away as her voice echoes; and healing takes time, time takes time truths that linger painfully. “Dovetail” is a song that tells of various women. The song moves back and forth between solo piano and the addition of bass and drums under vocals. McEntire’s gentle, trembling vibrato harmonized in thirds in a celebratory manner calls to mind a rejoicing psalm and shines through these images, leaving the listener cuttingly fraught with emotions such as wonder, sadness, nostalgia that can only arise with these juxtapositions. Gracious (and graceful) with its lilting melodies and lush harmonies, Every Acre explores the acres of our physical and emotional homes. These songs are reaching for the kind of home that we all seek: one where we can rest and lay down (or tuck away) our burdens of loss. And maybe, moving through every acre of a world that often tries to tear our sense of identity and heritage down, McEntire sheds light on what it is to be human in this life both stingy and gracious, both hurtful and kind.

Observatories is the collaborative music project by Ian Hawgood and Craig Tattersall. This is their second opus together after their first release "Flowers Bloom, Butterflies Come" on IIKKI in March 2021.

Born in the United Kingdom, Ian Hawgood spent most of his adult life living in Japan, Italy and Poland. Currently he calls Peacehaven (on the south coast, near Brighton) his home. Since 2009, he’s well-known with his work as the curator of the Home Normal label. He makes music using an array of reel-to-reel and tape machines in his studio by the sea, where he also master works for many labels and artists alike. You could often catch him on the coast with his faithful Nagra recorder, hydrophone and field microphones. These days his focus of music is on decayed ambient works using old synths and reels mostly, alongside his childhood piano.

Craig Tattersall is a former member of The Remote Viewer and Famous Boyfriend bandmate Andrew Johnson. Tattersall's music can be found these days more often under his alias The Humble Bee; as a founder member of The Boats; and in his collaborative works with the likes of Bill Seaman in The Seaman And The Tattered Sail. He has run the wonderful label Cotton Goods from 2008 to 2015 and since 2009 he has recorded 15 solo albums on his moniker The Humble Bee and almost the same under his name on some collaborations.

Limited Loser edition on dark green vinyl. There are times in our life when we feel magic in the air. When new love arrives, or we find ourselves lost in a moment of creation with others who share our vision. A sense that: this is who I want to be. This is what I want to share. It's a fleeting feeling and one that Kyle Thomas, the singer-songwriter who records and performs as King Tuff, found himself longing for in the spring of 2020. But knowing he couldn't simply recreate this time in his life at will, Thomas-who hails from Brattleboro, Vermont-set out to write a love letter to those cherished moments of inspiration and to the small town that formed him. The one where he first nurtured his songwriting impulses, bouncing ideas off other like-minded artists. The kind of place where the changing of the seasons always delivered a sense of perspective and fresh artistic inspiration. Where he felt a deeper connection with nature and sense of community that had once been so close at hand. And so, Thomas seized upon his memories, creating what he calls "an album about love and nature and youth." The result is Smalltown Stardust, a spiritual, tender and ultimately joyous record that might come as a shock to those with only a passing knowledge of the artist's back catalog. On Smalltown Stardust, Thomas takes us on his journey to a place where past and present collide, where he can be a dreamer in love with all that he sees. References to his Brattleboro upbringing abound, but at the core of Smalltown Stardust is Thomas's desire to commune with nature on a spiritual level. Images of the natural world, from blizzards to green mountains to cloudy days, fill the songs. "I consider nature to be my religion," he explains, and Smalltown Stardust is nothing if not a spiritual exploration. While so much of Smalltown Stardust invokes idealized traces and places of Thomas's past, the album's recording process made his communal vision a reality. Thomas's Los Angeles home in 2020 formed a micro-scene of sorts, with housemates Meg Duffy (Hand Habits) and Sasami Ashworth recording their own heralded albums (2021's Fun House and 2022's Squeeze, respectively) at the same time. A shared spirit dominated an era spent largely on the premises, with Thomas serving as engineer and contributor to both records, and Ashworth working as co-producer on Smalltown Stardust. Ashworth's contributions are vital to the album: she co-wrote a majority of the record and contributed vocals, arrangements, and instrumentation to each song. In the end, Smalltown Stardust is not merely a nostalgia trip. Thomas not only conjured a special time in his life, he found new inspiration, surrounded by collaborators and a sense of love and wonder for nature. If the first King Tuff record was content to merely state Thomas was no longer dead, Smalltown Stardust is a paean to what that life means. A statement of belief and a hymnal to the magic still to behold all around us.